#VERSE. ( tlou. )

[apollyonsdarksecrets]

The Suppressants

Alpha!Joel Miller X Omega!Afab!Reader

Summary: What do you do when you run out of heat suppressants? You turn to the only person who can possibly get you more medication; even if it means airing your biggest secret. But when Joel doesn’t have what you need you must travel together to meet another dealer. Surely you’ll get more medicine score your heat starts… right?

Warnings: post-apocalyptic world. A/B/O alternative universe, (A/B/O dynamics including: Scenting, Marking, Knotting, Heats) age gap (Reader is 26, Joel is late 40s), reader has been on suppressant most of her life, Joel teaches reader about guns, parental lost (not depicted on page), future smut, he falls first, angst(?), let me know if I missed anything for this part!

A/N: what? Who? Apollyon didn’t disappear off the face of the earth after all?! Yes, hello, I live! I’ve been working on 7 different WIPs and this is the first one I finally finished!!! 🤣 All I can think about is a nice, warm, rough Alpha Joel lately and so here you go!

Part One, Part two vvv (tumbler is acting so weird with this story and not letting me link the parts together!))

https://www.tumblr.com/apollyonsdarksecrets/766831444801863680/the-suppressants-alpha-joel-miller-x

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Staring at the scratched orange bottle in your hands you suck in an uneven breath.

Eleven little green pills rattle in their plastic container, signifying that your time to find help has dwindled down to a little over a week.

You closer your eyes, tapping the bottle against your forehead as you come to your forced conclusion. You know what you have to do, you know that there is no longer another option. No one else to turn to.

It’s the panic seizing your heart that makes it feel impossible to ask.

The secret you harbored, that these little pills kept under control, would have to come to light, if rumors hadn’t already spread. The thought alone makes your empty stomach lurch with nausea.

You hadn’t been neglectful. No. You had tried desperately to find more medication before time ran out. You had gone to six different shady dealers. Six different people who all worked for the same boss.

It was inevitable he would find out one way or the other. Maybe it would be best coming from you.

Steeling yourself, you hold your breath, forcing your brain to focus on the slow burn building in your lungs, until you are no longer trembling. Only then do you let loose a deep sigh.

You go for the brown messenger bag you keep by the door, slinging it on the kitchen counter before stuffing the main pocket with ration cards. the slips of paper crinkle loudly, taunting you even, as if they know they came from selling your furniture. As if they knew you had to stoop so low that all you have to your name is a mattress and torn up blankets.

Next is a thick brick of bakers chocolate, a gift from your elderly neighbor after you had fixed her small space heater. You examine the brick, no expiration or best by date can be found before you shove it into the side pouch. All you can hope for is that it isn’t too far gone.

You frown, the bag still half empty, and you glance around your kitchen to see if there is anything else to be added. To make what you are about to ask for a bit more reasonable. Coming up empty handed you snatch the bag and leave.

Your destination is only two floors above you, and you wonder if he can sense something is coming his way, as you start down the hall, like the crackle of a close storm in the air.

The nauseous feeling grows stronger as you recite the scripture you’ve created in your mind of what to say. But your legs feel as though you’ve been shackled with heavy balls and chains, making your feet drag over the dirty, curling carpet of the hall.

It would be a lie if you said you hadn’t thought of turning tail and hiding. Of slinking off to some hidden, far away place where hopefully none of your problems would attract consequences. The only thing that is stopping you is the thought of your mother.

You can practically see the shame that would have dimmed her blue eyes, the curl of her lip as she realized her daughter was nothing more than a coward.

Less of an Omega and more of a pussy-cat.

You take the stairs up, up, up, slowly; hand gripping the railing so hard your skin is white across your knuckles. You rationalize your predicament in the back of your mind, arguing that you never thought you would live to see the day your medication would run out. That every day you survived after the loss of your mother was a gift, having been so cruelly hindered by your own biology. Having to depend of medication just to survive the only true horror of the world ending. Humans.

Too soon you are ascending the next set of steps, finding yourself standing in front of a faded green door, the imprint of the long missing metal numbers your only indication you are at the right place.

That you are at his door.

The man on the other side is the only reason you had made it thus far, you should feel confident that he will help, that he would accept the truth without faulting you or your mother for never trusting him enough to bare it. But then again…

You stare at the door, your chest tightening, turning your breath into shallow pants. Your limbs suddenly feel numb, the tips of your fingers tingling and it spreads through your palms and up your arms. Trying to swallow against your dry throat you lift your knuckles to the door, forcing your body to go through with the motion. The wood sounds hallow under the weight of your fist, your eyes growing marginally larger, as if you hadn’t full expected to make contact.

Before you can decide to turn and run, or stay rooted to your spot, the choice is made for you.

Joel Miller, with his ever watchful gaze and scowling features, is suddenly towering over you from what feels like the top of the door frame. His deep brown eyes lighten, the pinch between his brow softening as he realizes who’s at his door. Checking the hallway his rigid posture relaxes, leaning his shoulder into the frame. “What brings ya here, darlin’?”

Unexpected tears well up in your eyes at the innocent question, and you’re helpless to stop them as they roll down your cheeks. Before you know it you’re sobbing, throwing your hands into the air with defeat as you try and fail to form words around the constricting sobs.

Joel’s eyes go wide, a chorus of emotions pelting him at your sudden display of emotion. Having known you for so long to be a level headed woman, every warning bell is going off for Joel as he stiffens, reaching for you. “Woah, woah, honey what is the-“

You shake your head, cutting him off as you push past into his apartment. You sling your bag around to your front, fighting with the buckles. Joel shuts the door quickly with another backwards glance, watching bewildered as you struggle with your shaking hands.

“I-I have all of this, and I know-know that this is how people pay you.” You manage to get out, flipping your bag over and dumping the cards onto the table. His eyebrows shoot to his curling hairline, watching the different colored slips spill across the wood, some floating to the floor. You struggle with something else in your bag, yanking and tugging and he steps forward to possibly offer you help when you snap. “God damnit!” Finally ripping the chocolate free, you slam it down, the brick cracking in half audibly. “Chocolate… everyone loves chocolate… I just…” When you turn to look at him with such wild, desperate eyes Joel can only think that the worst has happened. “I need your help.”

Joel steps closer, his hands raised like your some skittish animal ready to dart. “Darlin’. Let’s calm down, you know you ain’t gotta do all of this. Just tell me what it is you need.” And he’s right, you’ve never had to pay him for anything, an agreement made when your mom and Joel worked together all those years ago.

Her knowledge of pharmaceuticals mixed with his innate abilities to smuggle any kind of contraband into the QZ made them the best business partners. Your mother had given him her knowledge willingly as long as he agreed to her terms; use what you can to help those around you, and should anything happen to her, watch over her only daughter.

A fresh wave of pained tears rush forward, letting Joel close the distance between you. He grips your shoulders, rubbing soothing circles into your tense muscles as you wrap your arms around yourself, trying to hold onto any semblance of your dignity. “It’s bad… That… That’s why I brought all of this.”

His heart starts to thunder in his chest, your words spiking his own anxiety. ‘Please don’t be pregnant. Please don’t be-‘

“I need heat suppressants. I only have eleven left before I run out completely.”

Joel pulls back like you had suddenly slapped him, shock and denial playing across his features. “You… What?” He doesn’t mean to sound so harsh, running a hand through his greying hair when you flinch. You don’t answer him, instead turning your eyes to the dirt stricken floor below your feet. Joel paces away, turning back to inspect you, his eyes tracing over your smaller figure. He’d known your mother was an Omega, but seeing as you had given off no smell or any signs he chalked it up to you having struck gold and been born a Beta. Never once did it cross his mind that you were on suppressants.

Passing a hand over his face, he turns away, afraid to witness the devastation about to wreck your face. “I don’t have any.”

Your insides lurch, the nausea from earlier hitting you like a punch to the gut, making you grip the back of a kitchen chair. “What?” You squeak, face turning pale as you stare at the side of Joel’s face. “Joel, please… Please I have all of this, there has to be someone! If I go into heat every Alpha in the QZ will be after me like I’m- I’m some kind of prize!” And in a sick, demented way, you’re telling the truth.

Omega numbers were already dropping before the start of the outbreak, causing Alpha’s who couldn’t control their instincts to become possessive, and unruly. That same reason is why there are so few Omegas to count now, most new Alphas becoming rogue with the need to mate, leaving those of us left in constant fear.

“Please,” You whisper brokenly, pressing your hands to your chest. “Everyone said you were who I needed to go to. There has to be something.”

Joel cusses under his breath, turning to look at you and the sight alone is enough to break his heart, hearing you plead is only driving a stake through it. “Look… It’s a bit of a long shot but there is someone I know. It may take me a few days to get in touch with him but if he does have any suppressants it’ll be about a weeks journey.”

“You… You mean leave the QZ?” You haven’t stepped foot outside of these metal walls since you were brought here as a young teenager, nearly 13 years ago. The thought alone is enough to make you want to back out, throw in the towel and hide somewhere where no one can find you. Joel sees your hesitation and splays his hands.

“Yes, but you know I’ve been out there hundreds of times now. I know this route like the back of my hand. If you don’t come with me there will be no way for you to get the medication in time for your…” Joel trails off, a soft rosy color surfacing on his tan cheeks. “You’re gonna have to come with me.”

You glance away, gnawing on your lower lip. With a curt nod you agree, knowing that there isn’t another choice.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It takes two agonizing days before Joel is showing up at your door, telling you he’s heard from a Beta named Mark; the dealer you’ll be meeting with. With Joel is a well worn map, the paper soft under your fingers as Joel shows you exactly the route he and you will be taking to the next town just north of here. You listen to him intensely as you both lean against the kitchen counter, mentally noting everything he tells you as he explains what dangers you could potentially face.

Next is for him to show you what needs to be packed. Joel notices the furniture and other necessities your apartment lacks as he goes through your cupboards and then your clothes, all of it explaining how you had secured so many ration cards.

After Joel is sure you’re packed to the extent that you can carry, he takes the next few hours before night fall to teach you the ends and outs of the pistol you’ll be carrying. He shows you how to dismantle it, then how to build it back, explaining each part in detail as you watch in fascination how nimbly his large hands move over the small parts. Once everything is in place, he spins the unloaded gun around, holding out the handle.

Though you’ve been around enforcers the majority of your life, you knew very little about guns. Your mother had kept you away from the more violent parts of the QZ, her high statues ensuring you had more mundane jobs on your rolls. All of that being said the first thing that comes to mind when you think pistols is the only movie you had in your apartment. You spin around, pointing the barrel at the little white refrigerator with one hand cocked sideways. The same way you’d seen Samuel L. Jackson’s character do in the movie Pulp Fiction.

“What the fuck do you think you are doing?” Joel snaps incredulously, stepping up behind you.

“What? I’ve only seen Pulp Fiction, this is how they do it.” You argue back, dropping your arm to your side as you turn to look up at Joel.

He glares down at you before he steps closer, his chest pressing against your back. “You ain’t no Sam Jackson, woman, now pay attention.” His hand grips your wrist and he guides you to bring the gun back up. You try to pay attention, you truly do, as he instructs you on where to place your palms on the hilt, how your fingers should over lap the others and squeeze; but the heat radiating off of his body makes it nearly impossible. Joel curls around you slightly to get to your level, holding your hands steady between his own, and everywhere that his skin touches yours sends electricity crackling across every nerve.

If he feels even a fraction of what you do, he hides it well as you turn your head to look. You trace the outline of his face, the small sun spots across his Castilian nose, down to the frown of his lips; completely forgetting what he is showing you. His eyes flicker to yours, hardened with concentration , “You never put yer finger on the trigger unless you are absolutely certain yer ready to shoot.” His voice is rough and firm, searching your eyes as you dip your head in agreement. “Good girl. Now, pay attention.”

It’s easier said than done as his hands correct your shoulders, his boot nudging your feet apart to widen your stance, or when he finally steeps away how you can feel his gaze burning into your flesh. You try to hold the gun steady, aiming down the sights at the litter of ABC magnets that adorn your fridge but your arms begin to shake from the weight.

“This feels wrong.”

“You’ll get use to it.” Joel mutters with a shrug as you hand the gun over. “When we get far enough away we’ll find an area where we wont draw too much attention to ourselves, and you can practice.”

You nod, fallowing Joel’s lead as he takes a seat on the once grey carpet, watching how he loads the magazine. You pick at a stray thread on your jeans, watching how his fingers move. After a few moments of silence you shift around. “Thank you… for doing all of this.”

Joel sighs through his nose, looking over at you, trying to peek at your down turned face. “I just wish you’d a come to me sooner.” You rest your cheek on your knee, eyebrows pinching in the center. “You use to come to me for a lot, I know this is well… Different, but it don’t change the fact that it’s just me.”

“It’s just,” You suck in a deep breath, “I’ve been asking around for a few months now… It was just the thought of coming to you directly was… embarrassing? I thought that if you knew I was an Omega you would start to treat me differently… I don’t want that.” You pull the strings free before rolling it into a little ball and flicking it somewhere across the room.

Joel is silent for a moment, rolling a bullet back and forth across his palm. “Sure it ain’t got something to do with me being an Alpha?” The question is weighted, and even though you don’t say anything he can see the blush spreading across your cheeks. He stretches his leg out, nudging your calf with the toe of his boot. “Hey. It’s alright. I understand, I ain’t blind to how things are now. I wont treat you no differently than I have before, darlin’. Swear it.”

You glance up at him, the smallest of smiles playing across his lips as you stare at each other in the dim light of your living room. You nod once.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It had been extremely unnerving how easily the two of you had slipped from between the metal walls under the blanket of a starless sky. How the patrolling officers didn’t so much as catch a glimpse of your slinking forms as you dashed across the bare field for the crop of trees. Even though your body is riddled with anxiety, you can’t help but marvel at life outside of the city. You can take your first full breath of air, no longer chocking under the overpowering stench of human and trash.

When you both slow in a clearing you are able to look up and see the blue-black sky beginning to change colors as dawn crept in. There’s no haze, no smog, or dust. Just the sun painting the leaves in beautiful shades of golds, purples, and reds. You close your eyes, letting the light warm your face as you take it all in, your shoulders relaxing, your chest no longer feeling taught.

And Joel is there, watching you from a short distance away as your skin is cast in a thousand shades of morning. You’re glowing, and for a brief moment Joel wonders how you would have thrived in a normal world; a better world.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” Your voice floats across the space between you, soft so as not to disturb the birds waking. He startles slightly, knowing he’s been caught staring at you and he adverts his eyes to the sky. He’s seen it a million times, his mind and body roughened by the losses he’s endured; the brunt of the world chipping away at him. He knows the dangers, the risks, the things that lurk just out of sight; but… as he stares at the sky, then back to you, the amazement playing across your face…

“Yeah… it sure is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

“Now, just squeeze the trigger.”

You suck in a deep breath, arms tensing as you exhale, flinching when you pull the trigger. The pistol kicks back, jarring your joints and sending pain through your wrists. The bullet wizzes well off to the side of the can set on the old wooden post.

Your lips tug down, turning to look at Joel so he can correct where you went wrong. He smiles at the pout you throw his way, pulling away from the tree he has been leaning against.

“Good try. Let’s give it another go. This time keep your wrists locked, you need to hold through the kick. You need to get use to the sound and the feel of it, otherwise you’re gonna flinch and miss each time.”

You follow his instructions, digging your heels into the earth as you aim. The soup can catches the light, almost mocking you as you squeeze the trigger once more and miss.

“It doesn’t feel right.” You complain, switching the safety off and shoving the gun back into the holster on your hip. Joel scoffs and you roll your eyes, lifting your empty hand and pretending to shoot the same way Jules does in the movie.

Joel laughs, scooping his bag and riffle off the ground. “I’m telling you, ya ain’t gonna shoot nothing like that. Will only manage to break your wrist.”

“And what if I do?” You snip, turning to face him your glare unmatched to his own.

“You won’t.” He replies more firmly, crossing his arms over his chest as you step closer, raising your chin in defiance.

“What if I do though? Huh?” You poke his arm, a smile growing as you see the frustration rising in his face.

“Fine. You get something like that and you get to say a one liner. Alright?”

He has to look away as your grin grows to an infectious smile. “Deal.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

Over the next several days you both trek through deserted roads and isolated woods, slowly working your way towards the safe house. The trip was filled with things you never imagined, trees growing straight through the road, houses and building over run with ivy vines with critters living amongst them. Even though the cause of it all was so horrendous you couldn’t help but marvel at the beauty of it all.

Though you were moving slower than Joel was use to, he felt like it was worth it, watching how you came to life. You asked every question that popped into your head without hesitation, and he found himself enjoying answering you, recalling how the world used to work. It didn’t occur to him how easy he would find it, opening up to you, talking about this or that. He just knew that he hadn’t found peace like this in a long time with another person.

The sun is peaking high over the tree tops, making it easy to see all around in the sparsely wooded area you have stopped at for lunch. You’re lying on your stomach, head resting on your folded arm as you swish your hand through a small creek, watching how the water swirls around your palm and passes through your fingers. It’s cold and soothing, your thoughts racing away, wondering what it must be like to swim in lakes, or see the ocean for the first time. Feats you’re sure you will never accomplish, but dreams you can have as you close your eyes.

Joel can’t force himself to look away from you, you’ve captivated him completely. He knows he should stop it, kill the thought before it leads him down a path he can’t change. But it’s instinctual, every Omega brings it out in an Alpha. That sense of home. Maybe it was because he’d never spent much time with you over the years, your mother keeping you away.

But the longer Joel was around you, watching, listening, talking. He could feel it, the calmness that even a drug couldn’t smoother, of an Omegas presence…

Coughing slightly he stands from the stump he’s been perched on, “We need to get moving if we want to make it before night fall.” When you turn to look at him over your shoulder he curses wildly in his mind. Your face is soft and your eyes warm as you nod, and he knows he’s doomed.

*~*~*~*~*~*

The light, joyful feeling you had through most of your trip abandons you entirely the moment the small town comes into view. A deep sense of wrong and sorrow settles into your bones as you step foot onto the streets, surrounded by haggard, foreboding buildings that remind you of monsters from old story books; ready to spring at any moment.

Riffle in hand, Joel shifts entirely before your eyes. His shoulders are tight, head on a swivel as he surveys the surrounding areas. Each step is thought out three moves ahead, a practice skill you admire as you follow behind, covering him from the back. You carry the pistol just how he has shown you, finger resting away from the trigger, your grip firm on the handle. But you wonder what good it will do should something, or someone, appear.

Fear and anxiety is a sticky concoction making it impossible to do anything but breath as you travel farther into the heart of the city.

A few more desolate streets over and Joel abruptly stops, holding his hand out for you to do the same. Your heart kicks into double time, your gaze frantically shifting from one spot to the next trying to see what he does as he draws his riffle up, looking through the scope.

You wait, body tensing preparing to hear his gun go off, before he lowers it once more. “Alright. Ya see that blue building over there?”

You look down the street and nod at the simple one story home, smaller than the rest of the houses on this street. “Teal, but yes.”

Joel gives you a sideways look that heats your cheeks. “Well the teal house is it. It’s supposed to be locked up, but that doesn’t mean a thing. You will follow me and do exactly as I do, stay quiet, and keep your eyes open. Do I make myself clear?”

Joel holds your stare as you nod, your throat working as you swallow. “Yes, okay.”

Making it across the street on quick feet Joel ascends the steps of the dilapidated white porch as you scan the streets. A moment later Joel is back, a small silver key in hand. He leads you around the house, making sure each window and the back door are firmly locked and boarded over before heading back to the front door. Once standing in a deserted living room Joel instructs you to stay by the door as he ventures deeper into the small house, his foot steps nearly indecipherable as you wait tersely, your fingers shaking around your gun.

You visibly relax when he comes out of the hallway, gun slung over his shoulder. You drop your pack to the floor, sitting down hard beside it with a sigh. “How long do you think it will be until Mark gets here?”

“Mmm… Hard to say, probably in the morning. He’s got a day longer trip than we had. How many pills ya got?” Joel leans against the window seal, squinting through the slats of wood as the sun sets in the horizon.

“Uh, just one more after tonight.” No matter how good natured you’d been there is still anxiety festering in your blood, bespite being at the halfway mark there is still so much that can go wrong from here. “Did he… did he say how much he was bringing?”

“‘Bout three months worth.”

You know that it is probably all he could get his hands on, but the dread of having to do this all over again weighs heavily on your chest.

“What did he ask for them?” You glance at your pack where the ration cards are all shoved into the side pocket, knowing that it can’t nearly be enough.

“I’ve got a gun I don’t use.” Joel comes over, groaning as he sits down next to you, happily taking the water bottle you offer.

“That… That is kind of a lot though… isn’t it?” Guilt eats away at you and Joel can hear it in your voice. He catches your eye, and there’s something in the depths of his that makes a warmth spread through your veins, soothing your worries, if only slightly.

“Ain’t too much for you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

The sounds of birds echo through the empty living room with the first break of dawn, the light filling the space casting everything in its amber glow. You shuffle in your sleeping bag, groaning softly at the slight ache in your hip. The floor was unforgiving, and you wondered how Joel faired through the night.

Joel.

Your eyes fly open and you jolt up right. The room smells of dust and mildew, underneath it all the faintest smell of Joel’s scent. It should be stronger. Why isn’t it stronger? Your heart begins to thunder as you scramble out of your bag, panic setting into your bones. Where could he be? What happened to him?

You grab for your bag, ripping the zipper open to grab your gun when suddenly the front door opens. You nearly scream, falling back on your ass only to find Joel standing in the door way. Three dead rabbits clutched in one hand, his riffle slung over his back.

“You okay?” He steps in, closing and locking the door as you gape up at him.

“Where did you go? Why didn’t you tell me?” You demand as he walks over to the small fireplace, tossing the rabbits onto the floor with a wet thud.

Joel’s eyebrows knit together, a slight smirk playing on his lips as he turns away, placing his gun against the wall. “I woke you up, said I was going for food and you answered me, darlin’.”

Heat creeps up the back of your neck, your ears turning red as you stutter. “What?”

He turns, his smile growing and growing as he folds his arms across his chest. “You said, ‘Alright. Be safe.’ Ain’t my fault you fell back to sleep.” Sheepishly you glance away, taking a deep breath before you answer. Not only has Joel brought in the smell of the dirt and earth, the smell of drying blood and wet fur; but his sent encompasses it all. It soothes your panic, settles your racing heart beat and your shoulders slouch as your muscles relax.

“I’m sorry… Maybe next time make sure I’m really awake before you walk out…”

His boots thump against the floor as he walks over, he leans down, ruffling your hair with a big hand. “You worried about me, honey?” The heat leeches its way into your cheeks, embarrassed and feeling silly about the entire thing, you shrug. Joel chuckles, straightening up as he shucks off his jacket and throws it onto his sleeping bag.

“Come on now. I’ll teach you how to skin a critter while we wait. Sound good?”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

For all of my other stories, please refer to:

The Complete Collection: Apollyons Master List

XOXO

[stormsandskies]

im collecting girl dad characters like they’re pokémon cards

look at the fathers (i know spencer isn’t a father but shhhh)

[whatonearthbro]

bitches be like nO i DoNt hAvE a TyPe

meanwhile all they men looking like

[new-hyperfixation-every-month]

(SPOILERS FOR TLOU + CHARACTER DEATH)

tlou x tsv doodles wahoo

going back to my roots and drawing my most self indulgent au yet

[silassquare]

Sunshine & Rain!Verse

Platonic!Tommy Miller & Reader

(with some Joel & Reader sprinkled in, too)

a collection of one-shots all centered in the same universe

~ pre-outbreak ~ 80s ~ f!reader is best friends with Tommy Miller ~ reader and Tommy are in high school ~ Joel is an adult and Tommy is living with him ~ no romance, no smut

*-*-*-*

The Key (mostly Joel & Reader)

Description: Joel comes home to find not Tommy- but you crashing on his couch

[urdisappointmentsmovieblog]

Grumpy loners adopting random children trope >>>

[gcdwilling]

at some point in the night, the bed shifted beneath her and feeling it only pulled her awake just enough. it was when delicate fingers reach out to find an empty space beside her that deep brown eyes blink open and search around, seeing a figure standing by the window. "hey—" voice low and still laced with sleep, she's out of bed and walking up behind him in a matter of seconds. he's had another nightmare and she can see it in the tension along his back. "why didn't you wake me up?" / @khaleesiie ♡︎

[khaleesiie]

honeyed hues are focused on the steady rhytmn of the brush against the horse's coat, the gentle back and forth motion enough to to quiet the noise in her head, if only for a little while. shed'd been so distracted that she didn't hear him approach. " oh, hi — sorry, i didn't see you there, " her hand faltered for a second before she glanced over her shoulder, focusing on the familiar figure that stood just outside the stall, arms resting against the wooden divider. / @gcdwilling ♥ 1/2

[consultingzoologist]

WIP Wednesday 🍄

I was tagged by @adhdprincess (thanks! And loved your snippet)

I do have a few WIPs on the go but I finished my "Joel gets bit and Ellie shares her immunity but they're not totally human anymore" (Strange Highs and Strange Lows (thats how my love goes)) fic last week which I'm really proud of because finishing stuff is hard! Writing in a different style is hard! So I'm going to share a bit of that 😊

(I was also proud to get it out before S2 E2 for plot reasons that will become obvious)

Here's a snippet from when the Drama kicks off:

(I'm now mulling over sequels as we speak)

Tagging: @justwantedaccess @stumbling-away @deervsheadlights @roselees @ameerawrites @bumblepony @jessthebaker @renegadeknight

And whoever else would like to share!

[fightfcrged]

@giraffeiisms / continued from [x]

Ellie was no stranger to taking hits, hell in the past she would have bragged that she could take them like a man, but a lead pipe to the head multiple times was a time that she could admit defeat. At least this time, despite the blood running down her face, she had only chipped her tooth. "You know what Joel? That sounds awesome." She mumbled, eyes remaining closed to fight the swimming room. "You got him right? Like I'm not gonna open my eyes to your ass stabbed... right?" The worry was obvious in her voice, but all she could do was keep her lunch down.

"Yeah -- I got him." That was .... something of an understatement. That same said lead pipe dropped with a dull thunk onto the floor next to what was left of the guy's head; calling the sight reminiscent of a poorly attempt at one of those junior high 'drop the egg off the roof' experiments was being ... generous. Joel twisted his fingers against the dark cloth of his jeans in an attempt to get the worst of the blood and bits off of his hands as he closed the distance to where Ellie was collapsed on the floor.

"Guess it's a good thing you're so thick headed, huh, kiddo?" It was an attempt at humor that he didn't feel, guilt and anxiety twisting in his chest as he tried to get a better look at the source of the blood winding down her face. "He get you anywhere else?" Sliding his pack off his shoulders, he pulled one of the clean rags from the side pouch, dabbing carefully at the blood on her face before easing it up to press against her temple.

[sadiestarrs]

PIXELS have me weak in my knees

[seethesunny]

What is a tlou 2. What sequel. I'm living here in my own world.

[justaprankhan]

@immunityfcrged asked for this

Truth was, no part of Hannah wanted to die. If she had, if she had been tempted even just a little, she knew she would have been murdered about twelve near-death experiences ago, or maybe even at the very beginning. She was no martyr, no nothing, but when she saw Ellie get grabbed through the fence, she got up from where she had been thrown while fighting the clicker, and ran to slam her gloved hand into the Infected's face. She had no weapon, no time: it was all she could do, and Hannah felt the way she hit the Infected's teeth; but she couldn't stop, and she put her whole body into shoving him away with a cry of anger, cutting her arm against the broken wood as she came through and rammed his head against the rock wall. Once, twice, as many times as needed to kill it. Not the first time rage took over.

She dropped to sit on the ground, her leg as always hurting after too much exertion, and pulled the leather glove from her hand to see the damage: the indentation on her palm was obvious but, shockingly, no blood. "Not... not bitten," she tried to catch her breath, lifting her hand for Ellie to see. "Holy... Oh, that was close..."

[silassquare]

The Key

Platonic!Joel Miller & F!Reader

(with of course some BestFriend!Tommy, too)

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: None

Tags: pre-outbreak, fluff, reader and Tommy are 16, Joel's 21, the wee tiniest bit of angst

A/N: The obsession I have with pre-outbreak tlou content needs to be studied. They have me thirty-six years of freedom and damned if I'm not taking it. Also childhood friends my beloved

part of my Sunshine & Rain!Verse

*-*-*-*

Description: Joel comes home to find not Tommy- but you crashing on his couch

The jangle of keys rouse you from a doze, but you make no move to sit up from the couch as the door opens. The cushions are too soft, your boy too melted into the fabric.

“Fuck ‘re you doing here?

Joel sounds… just as annoyed as he always does. He does sound a little extra shocked, though, which you’re going to count as a win. You pry an arm from over your eyes, letting it flop to the floor.

“Enjoying this nice ass couch you got,” you reply.

Across the room, Joel drops his wallet and keys onto the entryway table and toes off his shoes. He also sighs- loudly. Like you decided to turn all the lights on and leave all the taps running instead of taking a slight nap on his couch.

“This ain’t a house for wayward teens,” Joel grumbles.

“You let Tommy live here.” you counter.

Joel laughs- well, lets out an amused huff, more like, because he’s an asshole and won’t admit you’re funny. “Ain’t a house for wayward girls, then.”

Offended, you sit up in a flash. “Now that’s just sexist. Would you really prefer Tommy’s pot-smoking boys over me?”

You get an eye roll in response. Just an eye roll, no comeback. Which in Joel speak essentially means he knows you’re right. You fall back into the couch again, this time against the squishy back cushions. “That’s what I thought, Mr. Miller.”

That gets you a glare. Joel hates that.

“I told you to stop calling me that,” he says, proving your point. You give him your best innocent, teenage girl smile. As if you’ve ever called him that because of proper manners.

“How the hell did ya get a key, anyway?” Joel asks, standing in the middle of the living room.

You shrug. “I stole it from Tommy.”

For a moment Joel just stares at you. He opens his mouth once, closes it again. You wait for him to say something- to tell you off for it, maybe- but he doesn’t say anything. He just shakes his head, walking past you into the kitchen.

You watch him go, fingers tensing around the edge of the couch cushion. You didn’t think Joel would be mad. Tommy and you had been friends for a couple years now, and he’d been inviting you over for nearly that whole time. You’d gotten pretty familiar with Joel.

But… you guess you might’ve crossed the line with this one. Sneaking in here on your own. Joel wasn’t your brother. It’s one thing for Tommy to bring you over without any warning- it’s another for you to just show up. He seemed like he was joking when he came inside, but Joel could also be a hard man to read.

And you’d just been fucking sarcastic back.

Your fingers twitch, refusing to relax. A not so great feeling starts to drip in your gut. You really liked being friends with Tommy, but maybe you’ve gotten a little too comfortable in the Millers’ lives. It was just nicer over here. Your parents never gave a shit about where you went, but they barely cared any more when you were home.

Fuck. You’d fucked this up, hadn’t you?

You were dragged out of your thoughts when something nudged your leg. Looking up, you were met with Joel. He held out a soda in your direction, another one already cracked open in his other hand.

“C’mon,” Joel says. He nods his head to the side. “I gotta project I could use some help on, and wayward teens are usually put to work, right?”

Eyes wide in surprise- which makes you cheeks threaten to burn because you know Joel can see it- you take the offered drink. He doesn’t seem mad.

When Joel turns on his heel, you get up and follow. You take a sip of the soda, cold and sugary and very obviously the shitty off-brand. Hopefully, it will help you wake up some- the nap you’d just taken didn’t do much to stave off the tiredness weighing you down.

Joel stops in the cramped bathroom, setting his own soda down on the back of the toilet. You do the same, on the edge of the sink. Frowning, Joel points at the tiny washer and dryer tucked into the room.

“Both of these’ve miraculously managed to throw themselves off balance at the same time. So, of course, they’re now refusing to run. Normally,” Joel continues to explain, “it’s an easy fix- just a matter of adjusting the feet on the bottom.

“All fine and dandy ‘cept for the fact that when you buy the shitty pair from some coworker’s neighbor, it turns out they come without half the feet. Which leaves us with this.”

Joel gestures again, this time to the top of the dryer. You notice it has a handful of mismatched scrap wood spread across the top.

“Damn thing is gonna take more than two hands. I was gonna wail til Tommy got home, but the sooner I get this fixed the better and I’ve no idea when he’ll be home. You mind?”

You shake your head, stepping closer. Really, all Joel needs is someone to tilt the machines back as he wedges the wood scraps underneath. You are almost positive he could’ve done this himself- that he wasn’t actually going to wait for Tommy to get home.

But Joel also isn’t kicking you out. If anything, he’s sort of giving you a reason to stay. Under the guise of helping him. It feels like some unspoken assurance.

It doesn’t take long to balance the washer and dryer. At some point Joel pulls a level out of fucking nowhere, so you have a real gauge over an approximate assumption. It feels like a little bit of overkill, but what the hell do you know-

Afterwards, you follow Joel out of the bathroom and into the kitchen. It’s only just now getting close to six o’clock. According to Tommy, most nights Joel gets home a hell of a lot later than he did today. You hesitate for a moment by the table. You’d hoped that Tommy would be back by now, so you had a better excuse to linger.

Joel opens the fridge, but he turns to look at you over his shoulder before grabbing anything. “I didn’t think to ask- Tommy didn’t tell you when he’d be back by chance, did he?”

You shake your head- you don’t even know where he is. Which definitely means he is off doing something he’s not supposed to be doing. Tommy always tells you otherwise. Based off Joel’s expression, he’s thinking the same thing.

“No us waitin’ on him, then,” he says and starts pulling a few items out of the fridge. Then the cabinets, and then he’s turning on the stove.

“I should probably head back home,” you say, rocking back on your feet. You’d rather be here.

“If you want,” Joel agrees, “but I’ll be making plenty extra to leave for Tommy if you wanna stay. Maybe you bein’ here for dinner will encourage him to start being back in time.”

You chuckle. “Trying to encourage Tommy to do anything he doesn’t think was his idea is a fool’s errand.”

Joel lets out another one of those amused huffs. “Even so, at least he listens to you half the time. That’s twice the amount he ever listens to me.” A moment of silence lapses before Joel speaks again. “But if you’re gonna stay, go ahead and work on your homework while dinner’s cooking.”

“Who says I didn’t already finish it all?” you counter.

For that, you get fixed with a bored look and a raised brow. “The couch- which still has an impression of your lazy ass from how long you were laying there.”

You groan, but move to grab your backpack from the living room. While you’re in there you peer around, and the couch does not have a single impression of yours thank-you-very-much. Still, you drop into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and unzip your bag.

At least Joel’s willing to talk to you while you work.

*-*-*-*

Tommy strolls in as you and Joel are cleaning your plates. He makes a clatter as he comes through- dropping his backpack, kicking off his shoes. There is only the faint smell of weed coming off him when he enters the kitchen, though, so it could be worse.

“Hey, Joel,” he says, making a beeline for the stove where his dinner is being kept warm.

He doesn’t notice you until he spins to sit at the table, hands full with the plate Joel handed him on instinct. Tommy catches your eye, looks away, and then stumbles with how hard his head snaps back up towards you.

“You-” he drops into a seat. “You stole my fucking key, didn’t you?”

Trying to hold back your shit-eating grin proves to be an impossible task. The affronted look on Tommy’s face is just too good. A snarky remark is burning on your tongue, but Joel beats you to it.

“Serves you right for not keeping track of your things, dumbass,” he says, tipping Tommy to the side by a palm on his head.

With all the grace of a smug, older brother, Joel ducks out of the way when Tommy tries to retaliate. He does laugh then- something from deep inside his chest. And you realize you’ve only ever heard Tommy make Joel laugh like that.

Once Joel leaves the room, Tommy stabs his fork in your direction. Swallowing around the largest bite you’ve ever seen someone take, he speaks. “You are not allowed to team up with my brother. That is not how this-” he aggressively gestures back and forth between the both of you “-works.”

Rolling your eyes, you lean on the table. The heels of you palms press into the wood. “If you’d gotten home at any point before dinner, I wouldn’t have to. You left me no choice.”

Tommy makes an offended noise through yet another mouthful of food. You just grin as you bend to pick up your backpack. It’s nearly eight now- you really should be getting home. Tommy calls out to you while you’re slipping on your shoes.

“You ain’t even gonna hang out before you leave?”

Straightening, you look across the room at him. “I’ve been hanging out dude- You’re the one that missed it.

It’s worth it just for another glimpse of that offended expression. You hear Tommy groan behind you as you open up the front door.

“Thanks for the dinner, Joel!” you exclaim, raising your voice to carry down the hall.

It’s only a second before a voice calls back, “Any time, kiddo.”

A content feeling settles in your chest after you close the door. The sun lingers on the horizon. You like being at the Millers’ house- Tommy and Joel are fun. Even just being there, taking a nap on their couch, was nice. Your house is just fucking boring. And Joel really didn’t seem to care that you just showed up. Tommy’s ego might explode if you tell him, but… you’re lucky to have him.

It’s not until you get home, all the way into your bedroom without seeing a single soul, that you realize you never gave back Tommy’s key. And neither of them ever asked.

*-*-*-*

requested tags: @umadirectioner

[roos4lm4]

okay so what would you guys think if i wrote a spider verse ellie x reader except it’s lightly based on the into the spider verse movies…….?

it’s not the exact same as the movies (obviously) but it shares similarities

for example; both reader and ellie are spider-man, reader is in ellie’s universe, ellie is somewhat like miles morales

the thing that separates it from the movies is that reader is apart of the spider society and something is up with ellie’s universe so reader visits and blah blah blah

is this is a hit i’ll post more about it, this was just a small explanation of what it would be if people want more of it, yk??

[gcdwilling]

the moment he walked past the fabric tent doors of the medical area, her gaze landed on him and he saw the worry on her features. like he was there because he was hurt. like he did the one thing he told her he wouldn't do. "it's fine." a shake of his head was all he offered with hands digging deep into his pockets seeing the papers she had been looking over. probably something that had to do with her last patient. "i just got back with him and didn't feel like following after him to see isaac, so i thought i'd stop here instead." / @khaleesiie ♡︎