Summary: Somewhere, in the Appalachian Mountains, the outbreak has left you stuck in your grandmother's cabin, trying to keep her and yourself alive. There's plenty of food, water, and words of wisdom from your elder, but her declining health and your anxiety of infected or raiders keep you up at night.
Joel and Tommy, working their way from Texas to make it to Boston, stumble across your hideaway.
Overall Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! SMUT, angst, PTSD and trauma discussed, do you hate me or love me vibes, death discussions, grief, loss. Each chapter to have its own disclaimers.
A/N: Hi! Um....this idea has been rolling around in my head and I've been slowly putting it onto page. A work in progress, no determined outline or number of chapters yet...An attempt to be as close as possible to what eventually comes in The Last of Us, but with some minor changes of what we assume likely happened with Joel and Tommy prior to Boston/Fireflies/Jackson etc.
Please support by commenting, sending me thoughts, and reblogging. I appreciate every single one of you!
Warnings: outbreak, mentions of death, mentions of looming family death, some....kissing
A/N: haha....what do you mean it's middle of november? I'm so sorry for the delay, but I've been thinking about this in between all my studying for my licensing exams and everything else happening with me!!!! I hope you all enjoy
Taglist: I'll try to be consistent about this but please let me know if I missed anyone!! @brittmb115 , @ashleyfilm , @juliebb1 , @umadirectioner
The routine you've fallen into over the past couple of weeks has been odd.
You wake up to the smell of coffee, weaker and weaker by the day as Gran begins to ration it. You know sooner or later, that it will run out, and so you choose to stop having an indulgent cup in the morning. You leave it for the brothers.
The brothers who, every day, rise and take care of the cabin, your grandmother, and, in turn, you as well. You've mostly let them, understanding how it eases your Gran's mind, having more than just you to keep watch.
Tommy is the kindest to the two of you, offering smiles of reassurance and giving his thoughts when he thinks it will keep you all safer. He suggested rebuilding the fence he and Joel had seen when they came up here, adding some defenses to it in case the infected find their way here. Now that there were more hands, it was something that seemed plausible.
Joel, on the other hand, you couldn't understand.
He was mean and harsh when the sun rose. Staring at you with what you think is disdain, eyes flicking away from you as he picks at his nails with his knife or huffs as he gets up to help Tommy with the fence. He speaks quietly to Gran, nodding to what she says and helping her to stand as a southern gentleman should.
But not with you.
No, Joel avoids you when the sun has come over the mountain and into the yard. If you're helping or passing by, he will avert his gaze when you go to look in his direction.
It isn't until nighttime that he relaxes. And you wonder if it is because he knows you're still suspicious of him, staying up to make sure he is completing the watch as he should, or if the cover of night allows him to stop frowning at you.
You notice how his brow relaxes, eyes flicking to you more freely and less away. The darkness allows his muscles to relax, shake away the tension, and look at you more freely. You wonder briefly if he is admiring you in the light of the moon, but you're quick to throw that out of your mind. As far as you're concerned, Joel hates you.
He speaks to you tonight. "You don't have to stay up with me, you know."
"I know." You sit in your spot, near him. On the couch, facing the wall that supports a TV no longer in use, no power to turn on or a signal to make it worth it if there was. The chill of winter has fully fallen over your side of the mountain, needing to wrap a blanket fully around you and covering your toes instead of just in your lap.
He pauses for a while, eyes trailing around your face. "I know you're tired." It's quiet, but clear enough for you to nod.
"Who isn't?"
He chuckles. "True enough."
You curl your lips into your mouth, trying to keep moisture on them as wind whistles through the opening, the gun propped to face the outside world. You and Joel typically sit in quiet, mumbling a few things here and there, but tonight, you're feeling brave. "Tell me something about you."
He immediately begins to shake his head. "No, I don't think so."
"Anything." It's breathless, how the single word falls out of your mouth and your head tilted in his direction. Anything for a distraction is what you think you're asking.
Joel's shaking head stops, a sigh escaping his own lips as he turns to you and watches. You're still, faux relaxed against the couch with your head pressed against the back cushion as you wait for a response. He stays quiet for a while, looking back out the window to the driveway and beyond after you don't wilt under his gaze. He's not sure what exactly he should say; his favorite color, or his favorite season, but all of that doesn't feel like what you're asking. Eventually, he says, "I miss my daughter."
You hold your breath, stopping yourself from asking questions. How old is she? Does she look like you? Where is she? Did she die? Instead, you wait, watching his face harden again as thoughts pass over his eyes.
"If I sleep too long, all I can think about is her."
Your heart immediately begins to ache, melting the hardness and anger you have held toward Joel since he got here. It all seems to click into place, his ways, his attitude. Without meaning to, you feel pity for him; losing someone like that makes your heart hurt, and unintentionally, you turn your attention toward your grandmother's bedroom door. "I'm sorry." It's all you can say, really. You don't think you can say anything else that would even be remotely helpful.
He doesn't respond further, his eyes staying on the window in front of him.
You continue the night in quiet, not bothering to look for his eyes before you head to bed early.
Joel is confused.
After you went to bed that night, he was able to take a breath, tears seeping from his eyes at his outward admittance; something he hadn't done since the day after Sarah died. He had been honest with himself that day, holding a gun to his head with his vision blurred and attempting to take his own life.
And he had been numb ever since, traveling with his brother to get away from Texas, away from his daughter's spirit that he was now sure haunted him. Every time he closed his eyes, she was there, looking up at him from his arms as life left her body.
None of that is confusing for him, though.
No, what currently boggles his mind is you.
The next morning, when your grandmother woke, you focused all your attention on her. You made the coffee and let her rest at the table. You nodded at Tommy when he stood up from his shift on watch. You wouldn't even dare to glance in Joel's direction.
Joel is used to having to look away from you. He's always watching, overly curious about how his mind goes quiet when you are within sight. But he has always had to look away, because you can feel him watching. But not now; now he is free to watch openly, and he's keenly aware that he hasn't had to look away at all. So much so, that he thinks your Gran and Tommy notice how he won't stop looking.
Joel doesn't want you to avoid him. Tommy's comment from a few weeks ago suddenly comes to mind as he stands in the yard overlooking the newly built fence. You're always giving her the evil eye, brother. Of course, she's suspicious of you. Maybe you weren't just suspicious, but frightened, and after last night, lost your willingness to meet his eye.
Terrified of what a man without his child might do.
And Joel can't stand having you think this way.
He doesn't know why he can't; he just suddenly can't. The change in routine, after everything had changed for him over and over and over again, you not looking at him seemed to be the final straw.
When he knows Tommy is speaking with Gran, and you are shoveling snow off the well cover, he goes to you.
It's awkward how he stops practically at your feet after charging over. You do glance at him, aware of his presence and giving little acknowledgement. He doesn't have much time to think of something subtle. "Why are you avoiding me?" It spills out of him, like a teenager in school, and he winces at the sound of his own voice.
You turn fully to him, stopping your shoveling and shaking your head. A bit confused yourself, you look around and behind Joel as if making sure of the same thing he was concerned about before answering. "I'm not avoiding you, Joel."
He scoffs, looking back toward the house as you had, only seeing the top of the ridge, and tries to roll his shoulders to relax. "You are."
It's your turn to scoff, resting your arm on a balanced shovel and frowning at him. At least you're looking. "What are you on about?"
Joel feels too vulnerable, out in the open like this. Even though there is no one around for miles, and Tommy is far enough away that he would hear him coming, Joel can't stand it.
Somehow, his hand is around your arm and pulling you toward the shed. You struggle a bit, whispering quickly and harshly for him to let you go, but his body refuses to let you go. The door swings open in his other hand, and he's quick to crowd you in the confines of the weathered wood. The only light in the shed creeps in from the outside, and it gives him a chance to breathe. "You're avoiding me—"
"I'm not avoiding you; we literally live in the same house." You interrupt, shoving his hand off your arm. He rests it on the wall behind you instead of pulling it back to his own side.
"You won't look at me." Joel clarifies, tilting his head down to get a better look at you in the shade of the shed. The electricity was never run to the shed to begin with, not that it would have mattered at this time, and the dirt floor compacted with use lets Joel take a deeper breath.
Your eyes, even in the darkness, stay locked on his now. "I'm giving you space, Joel." More quiet now, your fingers fidgeting in front of you just in Joel's periphery. "You told me about your daughter, and I didn't want to say anything wrong…" You lag, shaking your head, "and you've never liked me anyway. I didn't think it mattered."
"That's not true." Immediately falls out of his mouth, his fingers curling into his fist against the wood as he feels your breath against his chin and neck. He knows how close he is, and suddenly doesn't care.
He needs you to look at him, even if it is with suspicion or disgust, because it is the only thing keeping him present. Without your eyes on him, he feels as if he might be drowning.
The crack of a smile, your lips barely lifting as you take another deep breath. "That's how you act—"
He interrupts you this time, shaking his head and leaning in until his mouth is pressed against yours. His eyes forced shut, lips stiff and stilted, no breathing now. Time freezes even though he knows this isn't what he wanted something like this to be like. His mind goes blank, happily empty, and he feels relieved. When he pulls away, his eyes have blown wide, shaking his head in confusion. "I need you for distraction."
"Distraction?" Your own pupils are blown, confused, and unsure, but Joel notices how you haven't pushed him away; how you're not running back up to the house to pretend it didn't happen.
"I can't think about her." He admits, eyes welling with tears, and as he blinks them away, he's bringing his hands back to your arms and squeezing you to try and make you understand. "You're the only thing in three months that has gotten me to not think about how she—"
"Stop." You hold your hand up, closing your eyes and attempting to create space between the two of you.
And everything is crashing down around Joel. He's fucked up, big time, and he knows it. He's going to have to tell Tommy that they need to leave, that they will have to deal with the snow and the cold on their own. "I'm…sorry. I shouldn't have—"
"Joel," You breathe out, pressing your hand firmly against his chest, but not to push him away. A connection, warm and solid, that makes his panic pause. "I can…be your distraction. If that is what you need."
You feel your legs wobbling as you step out of the shed first, your hands sliding into your pockets and turning around to Joel, holding out the shovel to you. He looks into your eyes, holding steady as you reach out and take the shovel from him. He gives the slightest nod before you turn away from him and go back to the well.
Scraping away the rest of the snow off the cover, you try to think rationally. Why did I just agree to being his distraction? It wasn't even a request; he was apologizing and backing out of what he had just offered to you on a silver platter, and you jumped at the chance to be close to Joel.
To be touched again, you think. You're not sure that it's Joel, specifically that you're needing, whereas if it had been Tommy, you think you would have agreed as well. It had been so long since you had any type of interaction that wasn't based solely on survival. And how long would those interactions continue?
The end of the shovel scrape, scrape, scrapes against the wood, the squeak of pressing too hard into the old piece of lumber makes you wince. Joel needs a distraction, and so do you, as far as you're concerned.
"Supper!" You hear Tommy yell from the front door of the cabin, waving his arm as you lift your head to see that it has started to get dark. You huff heavily, stepping slowly up the hill and wondering briefly where Joel had gone until you come face to face with him, setting the table. "Ice pretty thick out there?" Tommy drawls, giving you a smile.
You nod, shucking off your coat and glancing at Gran, sitting at the table in her chair. She's lifting a spoon of stew to her mouth without much of a care in the world. "Yeah. Don't want it to be too difficult to open the lid if it continues to ice over."
Both brothers grunt in agreement, setting a bowl in front of an empty chair for you. You're sitting next to Gran, offering her a squeeze on her shoulder before settling into your own seat, to find that Joel is sitting across from you.
And this is normal. This isn't any different than any other day that Joel and Tommy have been here, except for the fact that Joel has now pressed his mouth to yours in want.
You wonder briefly what had pushed him to do that, if it was actually you not looking at him all day. There's no way that he will take the lead again, surely? He needed to be heard, but from what you've learned about Joel, you don't think he will let that happen again, if he can help it.
Tommy begins to speak, asking Gran a question that starts a dialogue between them, but you're not able to listen. Fully engrossed in your own bowl of stew and thoughts of Joel, that when you look up to see Joel is already looking at you, and not pulling his gaze away, you're suddenly happy that you didn't have a mouth full, because you are almost positive you would have choked.
Shutting Gran's door behind you, the candle blown out and everything inside the cabin matching the outside in darkness, you step into the living room to see Joel already set up.
Sitting in his chair, legs spread wide, and the window open a crack with the barrel of the gun sticking out at the end. Your eyes travel over his figure, bent to take off his boot, you glance over to the couch where folded blankets are already set, and pillows freshly fluffed.
You think of mentioning it to him, maybe teasing him as you would have to your boyfriend before the outbreak, but you decide against it. You spread out one blanket, wrapping up the other around your legs and leaning your head into the pillows he had set out for you. When he leans up, done with untying and setting his boots to the side, he gives you a smirk before setting his back against the spokes of the chair.
"Not as cold, as other nights." He offers, looking over at you for a moment before looking back to the yard in front of him.
"No, pretty mild, all things considered." You nod, turning your own body to look out the window and scan the yard yourself. It's relatively cleaned up, the fence looking secure and manageable, and the grass beginning to accumulate a frost.
When you go to turn your head back to Joel, he's already looking at you. His eyes are glued to your skin, eyes trailing down your neck and back up as you look directly at him. You hear your heart beat louder, harder against your ribs, blinking slowly as he swallows.
It looks strained, trying to figure out what to say next, or holding back something, until he clears it. "What I did earlier," he trails off, eyebrows furrowing in concentration.
Until you step in. "It's fine, Joel, really."
"No," he lifts his finger that is resting on the butt of the gun, tapping it lightly. "What I did earlier isn't how I would want something like that to be."
You rock back slightly, confused. You turn your head away, looking to the framed picture that sits behind the couch. Your grandmother and grandfather, sitting and smiling at the camera on the steps of the very cabin you sit in; not a care in the world beyond what is happening in that moment.
"I shouldn't have done that without asking you first, anyway." He mumbles out, and you feel the brush of his fingers against your cheek, making you turn back to him. "Is this something you would want? With everything that's happening?"
With everything happening with Gran, he means. He's not referring to the outbreak, or to the fact that you're stuck in a cabin with him, but with your grandmother. You know that's what he means, because next he says, "She's going downhill, you see that, right?"
You want to pull away, you really do.
But your jaw clenches and you shut your eyes to try and deny what he's saying.
"It wouldn’t matter if they were here to steal or to kill me because I'm about at the end of my life anyway."
It's like everyone but you was willing to admit it.
You swallow as bravely as you can manage before letting your eyes open back to the dark room, to the hand warm on your cheek, and to the dark brown eyes worriedly looking at you. "I know it."
Joel pauses, not moving anything except for the brush of his thumb. He opens and closes his mouth, trying to find words to say back but comes up short.
Instead, you lean toward him. "I think we both need distractions." It's quiet, hushed and under the cover of night, but you can still see how he gasps softly, his eyes flicking down to your lips.
He swallows, "I'd like to redo what I attempted earlier."
You tilt your head, holding back a smile and saying, "I'd like that."
This time, when Joel leans in, his lips are softer against yours. He's attentive, letting his fingers roam to the back of your head and hold you firm against him, but moves slowly against you. He opens his mouth willingly, waiting for you to make the first move, grunting when you do.
Your blanket has fallen, and you're only aware of it because Joel's other hand comes up your arm and down again, squeezing you like his life depends on it.
But yours depends on this too.
"Shh," You hear him say against your throat, moving his mouth down to bare skin that he can reach from his chair. You think you must have made a noise unintentionally, smiling and holding back a laugh, before he brings his attention back up to your face.
He pauses for a moment, smirking. "Much better."
When he leans back in and presses his mouth to yours again, you think back to the last time you'd kissed someone like this. And when no recollection comes back quickly enough, you let it go, because if this is what a distraction feels like, then maybe this will be good for you, too.
This list is specifically for the story “Mi Luz”, a Javier Peña x reader story
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In Chronological Order
You and Javi are coworkers at the embassy and Javi can’t help but have pet names for you. You have no idea that he is practically in love with you. Smut indicated with * original 5 parts indicated with –>
chapter warnings etc: NOT CANON JOEL MILLER, Violence, questioning, swearing, flirting (I’m scandalized), pet names including Eminem references and nicknames but not to be associated with the appearance of reader. NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: Only 7 days into July and it is already kicking my ass! I should be back on track soon, but who even knows lol. This series will eventually have smut, but probably not for a few chapters. I love respectful comments and questions, so feel free to ask those or to comment it on this post! Thank you <3
Joel shot you purely because he missed AJ. Anger coursed through him at how quickly he escaped, you in front of him, protecting AJ. But now a puddle of sweat is starting to form in your collarbone, your skin turning a shade of gray he’s never quite seen before, and you’re still trying to be smart with him. If he was younger he would have thought you were flirting, but he’s too experienced now to know that it’s just a game to save your life.
His eyes flicked down to where he injured you, a slight improvement noticeable, but he didn’t think it was this slow. His mind reels back to the television from last night, and those Organization commercials trilling in his head. What did they all say about you? Healed in just 30 seconds! She can save anyone!
What a load of shit that was.
You are shifting in and out of consciousness, slung over Joel’s shoulder with carelessness that makes your chest ache. You want to lift your head, to let the blood rush out of your skull, and to give some relief, but it’s too much effort to even try. Every time you rouse enough to remember, you can feel your leg stitching itself together, the pain causing you to clench your fingers around his shirt before falling back over the depths of unconsciousness.
When you wake fully, you find yourself staring at rusted beams and swinging lights. A light breeze passes over your face, cold and slightly damp as you attempt to lift your head. Your neck is stiff as you tilt your head to the right and left, trying to take in your surroundings before taking note of the black boots planted on the ground by the wall.
You let your eyes glance up and over at Joel, his posture relaxed as he faces mostly away from you. He stares at monitors along one whole wall, clicking away and shifting his head back and forth over what looks to be an empty alleyway, an abandoned building, Main Street and Hero Road crossways. The couch you were laying on is soft below you, a blanket folded neatly on the arm of it by your feet. Your head swivels to a dining table just behind Joel, the chairs all faintly facing the same way he is, a kitchenette to the right with an open door that leads to a bathroom, and another two doors to the left.
No windows or easily accessible doors that were in plain sight. Your heart rate increases uncontrollably as you frantically look around to see if you missed an exit. You’re in the midst of convincing yourself that everything is fine, there of course is a way out of here, when Joel turns to face you.
Joel is rubbing at his neck before giving a flash of a smirk. “Ah, you’re awake.”
“H-How…” You stumble through the word, moving your eyes down to the floor and looking around again. You’re still laying down, completely paralyzed in fear that you hope is hidden, clearing your throat to try and snap yourself out of it. You lean up, sitting straight and facing him fully on the couch to feign relaxation, but you aren’t convinced you could do it well enough to trick Joel.
He watches you fidget, his own fingers tapping against the desk he sat at before his eyes snap to you. “Don’t worry, Marianne won’t know you failed on the job.”
Your eyes shoot up to his, frozen in place. You had seen his photo from when he worked for the organization under Marianne. Most of him hadn’t changed-graying of the hair, maybe, but his eyes that bore into yours looked the same as they did in his photo. His history with the Organization in the archives was limited to him leaving it, but you didn’t know much else. “I-I…I wasn’t thinking about Marianne.” You stumble, wincing at your own voice.
Joel chuckles, looking back toward his screens. “I’m going to ask you some questions in exchange for keeping your little mistake on the low. And I won’t kill you–how does that sound?”
“I didn’t make a mistake!” Your voice catches, standing up and glancing at the door to the left. Fuck this guy, you don’t need him telling you about failure when all you did was get in the way. You shuffle slightly, watching as Joel seems to not care. You miss how his legs slowly move under the desk to better situate himself to stand.
He scoffs. “Oh what, you fainted straight into my arms then? You know, if you wanted my attention you didn’t have to go to such extremes, Slim.” A smile creeps onto his face again, waiting for your reaction.
It was your turn to scoff, watching him stand to face you fully, the smile now spread across his face as if he’s won a prize. “You hauled me here, I didn’t faint.”
“You were just pretending so I would hold you longer? Bold move. Especially since I could just…” He takes a bounding step toward you, his breath felt on your face as his hand comes up to his neck and makes a slow slicing motion. “Slit your throat right now for faking it.” He practically purrs, stepping closer to you and watching you tense up. “Just a couple questions, little hero.”
You swallow roughly, back pressed against the door behind you, praying that maybe it would open into the fresh air and you could sprint away. When it doesn’t, you rake your eyes up, his black cargo pants fitted to him, shirt untucked now without the armor he’s known for. His arms tan and freckled, biceps bulging out of the sleeves–
Joel clears his throat, heat spreading through your cheeks as he catches you looking at him. “One thing at a time. You work with AJ, right?”
You nod, swallowing harshly and grinding your teeth to stop your jaw from wobbling uncontrollably. You had never been interrogated like this before, not in training with The Organization or otherwise.
“And how long has that been, sweetie?” He asks gruffly, leaning one hand next to your head to cage one side of you.
Your breath picks up, attempting to shove at his arm before he brackets you back in. Your cage is getting smaller and smaller. “Why?”
“Just answer the question.” He growls back, hand twitching at his side. You keep your eyes on him, daring him to reach for you. Anger flares in his eyes when you don’t immediately answer, pupils blown wide as a hand comes up around your neck and squeezes. Thankfully, you still don’t flinch. “I don’t like AJ. He plays for the crowd and has dirty secrets.” He spits out.
You furrow your brow, shaking your head with the little room he’s given you. You strain your voice to speak through his tightening hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about–”
A brief release of his hand to come back more firmly, a dull thud of the back of your head against the door. “Yes, you do. If you are partnered with AJ then you’ve seen what he does. Did Marianne partner you together to teach you a lesson? To help him? What?” His hand tightens around your windpipe, anger boiling to the surface of his skin and painting him a deep red. He’s ready to tear you to shreds in the flip of a switch, and you close your eyes to prepare yourself for what you assume is inevitable.
He will choke you until you pass out and die, he will kill you, he will–
Joel’s hand releases almost fully around your neck, still loosely touching you to keep you in place. When you open your eyes he is staring back at you waiting patiently.
A deep breath in. “Less than 6 months I have worked with AJ.”
He continues to stare at you, tilting his head and grinding his teeth a bit more until finally his fingers uncurl from your neck, smirking with a brief chuckle. “So quick to give in, huh?”
You’re stunned, shaking your head to snap out of whatever downward spiral you were thinking yourself into and refocus. “Shut the fuck up.”
Another small laugh leaves his lips as he pops one hip out, leaning on his arm that rests by your head again. “How many times has AJ left you to the wolves like he did when I took you?”
Your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, a flash of blood coating your tongue from how hard you’re trying to keep it together. He’s testing you. “Why do you want to know?”
His hand is quick to come back up, pushing the hair that has fallen out of place over your shoulder, twirling a strand around his finger. It’s tempting to lean into it, subconsciously wanting to feel someone touching you, but you keep still. “Sounds like to me he does it a lot.”
You don’t respond, knowing you’ll only give yourself away. His eyes flick up to yours, another smirk gracing his face. His gaze flicks down to the ripped super suit you’ve designed, fingers drifting away from your hair and to the bare skin visible there. “I thought this was supposed to repair itself?”
When Joel looks back up to you expectantly, his question still unanswered, you cough. “It…can.”
He squints, examining you. “It can? Why hasn’t it, then?”
Silence.
His finger, dirty and bruised makes you gasp as he touches the exposed skin. Still tender from the shot he took at you earlier, you wince uncontrollably. “I thought it was supposed to regenerate your health too.”
You swat his hand away, taking the opportunity to push at his bum shoulder you know you’ve hurt before and step away from his grasp. “It does, you asshole. I’m working out the kinks.”
“You are?” He questions, not angry or eager to get you back in his grasp. “I thought they put you in that thing.”
“No, it’s my suit.” You can’t help but defend yourself, your design, the hard work you’ve put in.
“Then why isn’t it working?” He asks casually, stepping back over to his desk and sitting down with a grunt. He eyes you expectantly, rubbing at his shoulder before leaning back with a sigh.
“I don’t know!” You yell, immediately regretting it. You weren’t supposed to show emotion. You sigh heavily, looking at him for another moment and then deciding to just say-he was likely going to kill you anyways. “The Organization has better resources while I try to figure out why it’s not doing what it’s supposed to do, and I think I’m getting somewhere with it but if I keep going how I am with people shooting me,” You glare at him, his gaze on you unfazed. “Then I won’t have a chance to fix this issue.”
He lifts his chin in understanding, mulling over the information. “And that issue is?”
“That it regenerates slower each time I have a fatal injury. There’s something wrong with the wires, or how it is done and I don’t know why yet.” You spit out, feeling exhausted suddenly. You lean against the door again, it cool against your back.
“What are you going to do then?” He asks, leaning back in his chair further than before and raising his hands over his head.
You look around, standing straight with your hands on your hips and shake your head. “Well, it looks like an interrogation until death, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”
He blows air out of his mouth quickly, a soft scoff in your direction. “Just answer my other questions and I’ll let you go.”
You wait patiently, staring at him as he taps his fingers against his desk again. He pauses for only a moment before continuing. “Has AJ ever done anything that has concerned you?”
“No.” You immediately answer, relaxing the muscles of your face to not react further.
“Has he ever made a pass at you?” Joel questions again, waiting.
“No.” Again, immediate answer. You cringe inwardly at what you think he is going to ask.
“Has Marianne ever asked you to watch after him?” He sighs, picking up a pencil and beginning to scribble on to a pad of paper by his keyboard. He now seems uninterested, not convinced.
You pause long enough that he glances at you again, his eyebrows raised in question. “I…no I don’t think so.”
“What has she said, exactly, in regards of him?” He pushes, turning back to his pad of paper.
You think for a moment, looking back on to your first few days with The Organization. A tour, the glitz and glam of the behind the scenes and how you could improve your work on your supersuit. Smiles from other superheroes, AJ shaking your hand and saying he looks forward to working with you.
A shuffling into Marianne’s office and sitting in front of her desk, eager to be of service. Marianne’s stern face gave way to a soft smile before saying, “Keep him in check, show him your good attitude but stay firm. Be a good hero for me, alright?”
You repeat as such to Joel, shutting your eyes at the memory. You know you’ve been missing something, and you thought you were doing a good job at keeping AJ “in check”, whatever that meant. He didn’t like working with others, that much was obvious based on how he would leave scenes of crimes and not tell you the details afterwards. But things were getting better–
Joel stands, taking a couple steps over to where you are and looking down upon you. Frozen for a few moments, eyes flicking back and forth between yours before taking a deep breath and nodding. “That’s all I needed. I hope to never see you again, Slim.”
Defiant, you cross your arms and frown at him. “What is that supposed to me–” Your sentence was cut short, Joel’s hand coming up and impacting your face in such a way that all you see is stars and a slow tunnel into full black. The only thing you remember are those damned boots he’s wearing, and that smile growing on his face again.
Javier Peña x fem!reader x Frankie Morales crossover
An old saying; the most direct route of travel.
Working your way up from the bottom while in Florida seemed like a walk in the park compared to moving to Columbia to help the US catch the Cali Cartel. Your boss, Javier Peña, sets you on a mission he’s trying to keep under the radar to catch Gabriel Lorea to see who on his team is screwing him over, and maybe to get a little cash on the side for his troubles.
While you’re trying to infiltrate Lorea’s home in the jungle, fronting as a working girl for his security guards to gain more information, Frankie Morales hides in the trees with the rest of his group, desperate for the money hiding in the walls. He thinks he can use you to his advantage.
Overall Chapter Warnings and Disclaimers: 18+ only. I am not responsible for what you read on the internet. You have been warned! Locations and descriptions of places may be inaccurate in comparison to each story (Narcos and Triple Frontier). Timelines are obviously different between the two stories, so we are going to meet in the middle and say we are in the early 2000s. These are not necessarily canon characters in regard to how they act, how they treat people, and their current relationships. Frankie has no daughter or girlfriend/wife, mean!Frankie, mean!Javier, violence, dubcon, smut, anger, fighting, PTSD, and other mature themes.
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500 followers fic rec list
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chapter warnings etc: NOT CANON JOEL MILLER, swearing, mentions of SA (in much more detail please be mindful), violence, fighting, knocking out pet names including Eminem references and nicknames but not to be associated with the appearance of reader. NO USE OF Y/N.
A/N: There are only a couple more chapters, and I promise smut will be in them! But for now, enjoy. I love respectful comments and questions, so feel free to ask those or to comment it on this post! Thank you <3
There’s something about free falling. The weightlessness, the way your stomach clenches in a panic as gravity takes you closer to the impending doom of the ground. It’s not relaxing by any means, but when you’re able to turn your body and propel yourself up and against the force of what would inevitably kill a person, the adrenaline rush absolutely consumes you.
You remember when you first learned how to fly, showing off to your friends by jumping off the tallest point of the playground equipment, how your mother had screeched at you from across the park. You had frightened yourself, how quickly you were able to turn it around and make the whole playground clap at your trick. You had been silent when your mom pulled you away from the wood chips, scolding you for doing something so reckless.
Sometimes when you found yourself flying, you couldn’t help but remember your mom and how terrified she always was, no matter how much you would reassure her once you had practiced thoroughly. But now, as you’re freefalling off of this building after Joel’s push, the only thing that comes to mind is, “Fuck you, Joel.”
You’re able to propel yourself in the opposite direction, pushing against gravity and straining your body upright. Your stomach unclenches as you catch your breath, floating at the second level windows and peering in to the empty warehouse.
When you look back up to where you were pushed off, Joel’s fingers are curled over the ledge and his eyes on you. His hair is ruffling in the wind, a tilt of his head and a small smirk makes you think that he is possibly impressed.
You wish briefly to have the ability to shoot lasers out of your eyes instead of fly; that would be more useful right now. Joel’s smirk stays stuck on his face as he shrugs at you, disappearing behind the brick again. “Miller!” You shout, launching yourself up and over the ledge, landing heavily and puffing air through your nose to slow down your heart rate.
He’s disappeared again, into the shadows that you are now forcing your eyes to adjust to try to find him. The camera at the corner of your vision turns away from you, and you land light footed into the shadow. “Where the fuck–”
“Shhh, Slim.” His calloused hand wraps around your mouth, pulling you tight to his front as he drags you backwards. His thumb expertly has pushed your jaw up, preventing you from baring your teeth at him and sinking them into his hand. Instead, you claw at his arm, reeling your elbow back into his solid torso to only hear a quiet grunt. You get a couple hits in before he jolts your backward in warning, leaning his lips down to your ear. “They’re going to kill you.” He seethes through gritted teeth.
Confusion courses through you, stunning you enough that Joel is able to manipulate how you move and drag you back farther into the darkness behind the roof access doorway. His head is on a swivel, breath low and quiet as he assesses and searches around before pushing open the roof access door with the heel of his boot.
He lets the door shut, stopping it with his back so that it closes silently before leading you down the stairs. Joel lifts his palm from your face slowly, hovering above your face for a moment before muttering for you to follow.
There is little option, his hand wrapped now around your upper arm and pulling you through the building. His grip is firm but not bruising, but any thought of pulling away from him is out of the question, unless you want to put yourself in a precarious positon.
You glance around, shocked that the interior of the building is so quiet when you had thought this was where everyone would be after the fight, including Marianne watching the monitors. But you both stride past the monitors, still rolling with AJ fighting on the screens, and she’s not there. She’s not anywhere in this building. “What is going on?”
“Later.” He’s short with you, pushing open the front door similar to how he opened the roof access, his body now facing you. His face is tense, eyeing you quickly before changing his grip to slide his fingers around the back of your neck. You shiver, stepping through the opening first and barely looking around before he has to leaned against the side of the building.
Bushes are pulling at your suit, his body covering yours and pressed firmly to your front as he keeps you in shadow. The sound of footsteps makes your hearing prick, attempting to move your head to look. His hand tightens, the flex of his fingers adjusting your neck to be back straight and looking at him. “Don’t move.” It’s quiet, his breath sliding down your cheek and neck and you feel your scalp prickle. You try to hold back the way your body shivers at the sensation, but his knowing smirk makes you scowl.
He’s not looking at you as he does this, head turned and smug to look behind him. Your subconscious is screaming at you to fight him; a lift of the knee or a punch to the kidney would be enough to bring attention to the two of you, for you to flee and find AJ. You should be trying to figure out why he’s here and where Marianne is, but your body refuses to move. Instead, your hand that is resting against him to hold you upright sinks into the fabric around his torso, soaking up the heat from his skin.
You try to release your grip, but he shoves himself closer, now unable to move and your face resting against his collarbone. The faint smell of sweat and clean laundry fills your nose, and you hold back the urge to inhale deeply.
After a few minutes of silence and no more footsteps can be heard, Joel turns his head to look down at you. His smirk is still present, and you wonder what he is thinking before he clicks his tongue and begins to fully smile. “I have to knock you out.”
It’s almost a coo, the tone of his voice soft and his facial expression not matching his words. You shake your head minutely, confusion flooding your system as your blood runs cold. “You can’t know where my hideout is, sweetie.”
You begin to stiffen, your grip on his shirt restraining him from pulling too far away from you. His arm is reeling back as you begin to struggle away from him, suddenly aware enough to try and give yourself distance. You hold up your hand, pleading with him. “No, I’ll just leave–”
Too late.
Joel is so tired.
His body ached; he twisted his neck one too many times without a stretch, his legs felt shaky as he sat down in his chair at the monitors, and his palm stung with where he had to knock you out again.
He was tired of dragging you around, unconscious and somehow even more difficult to move around when you weren’t arguing with him. He was tired of Marianne and AJ’s bullshit, setting up things to try and harm you and others in their path.
But most of all, he was tired of being right; truely. How had he known that AJ and Marianne would do this? Or was it just a coincidence?
He’s just so tired.
He had watched Marianne slink away, his eyes over the ledge of the roof on the front door as she peered out before walking quickly to her car. A smirk on her face as she sat in the drivers seat and revved the engine, not even getting a second glance from those on the roof.
Except him.
He had watched AJ turn his head to you, watching as you moved to defeat the stuntman, looking to the cameramen and nodding for the one closest to him to leave. Joel thought that maybe that was his chance; he could kill him then and walk away before you knew.
But no. You had to step around to where he was hiding to take a breath, to lure AJ in the general direction to where Joel would have to fight both of you. You had to get in the way. You had to be in the middle of it all, had to ask him why he was there.
So he had to knock you out and get you the hell out of there.
The look that AJ gave you told Joel all he needed to know. He was going to hurt you.
Joel turns his head again to look at you, laying on this bed he rarely ever sleeps in, the look on AJ’s face replaying in his mind over and over again. No matter how hard he tries, he can’t get it out of his head.
It struck such a nerve with him that he knew he had to get you out of there, even if you were kicking and screaming. Joel chastised himself, knowing full well that he didn’t even know you. Maybe you were in on AJ’s plan; maybe you both knew that Joel would be there, and you were here to get in the middle.
Instead of dwelling on the thought, Joel let his head pan back to his monitors and turned up the volume to the news station. Julianne, his least favor anchor, had your picture plastered on the screen.
“Hero turned villain, Joel Miller, grabs our city’s newest hero and we are just going to stand by? Someone needs to do something! Our footage shows a battle between the two, but we have no word from our sources in the Organization at this time as to what exactly happened. Whas Joel behind this whole operation? What will AJ do?”
Joel is quick to turn it off, the anger inside of him bubbling up to the surface that he might start throwing things around and wake you up, and it was too soon for that. He takes a deep, cleansing breath before opening his eyes again.
His vision flicks to the clock on the wall, reading the time to be well past 3AM, and sighs heavily. Maybe he can shut his eyes for just a few moments, and disappear into the bliss of unconsciousness. He slowly turns his head back to the ajar door to the bedroom and decides that yes, he can just take a quick nap.
Joel is rudely awoken by the sound of door handles jiggling softly, curses under your breath and the sound of your feet padding around on his concrete floors. You do your best to silently walk around to every door, trying to open them and failing each time. His eyes slowly peel open, tracking you for another moment before he watches your shoulders slump in defeat. “What are you doing?” It’s gruff, groggy from a nap that he doesn’t know how long it lasted, and he goes to clear his throat.
You jump at the sound of his voice, shutting your eyes in a wince as if pretending to not see him as you turn slowly. “Nothing.”
He groans, stretching his arms above his head before sitting up fully, tilting his head to crack his neck and sign. He watches as you shuffle around, looking awkwardly toward the door and back to him. The embarrassment is clear on your face as he pushes his tongue into his cheek to stop from laughing. “Sleep well?”
“No.” You practically stomp your foot, and he has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop the smile from growing much farther than it has. Your fingers reach up to your hair that has fallen out of a braid, pulling your digits through the strands before heavily sitting down on the couch on one wall. He watches your chest rise and fall with a deep breath, taking his own as you ask, “Why am I here, again?”
When he doesn’t answer immediately, you lean farther back into the couch. The embarrassment from you getting caught is leaking over to him, painting his cheeks red as he clears his throat again, shaking his head. He wonders if he should keep you in the dark, and just let you figure it out on your own; let you go back to AJ and Marianne, and find out for yourself.
But his stomach roils at the thought. He can’t do that to you.
“There is no such thing as heroes.” He announces, standing up and crossing his arms in front of his chest. He suddenly feels too antsy to sit still, and wants to pace around his table as you sit comfortably. Around and around the table, his fingers skimming the top briefly before come up to the back of his neck and kneading the muscles there. “Last night, I didn’t know you would be there, but was given intel about a plot put on by AJ and Marianne.”
“A plot?” Creases between your eyebrows begin to form, shaking your head in confusion.
“They were planning to kill someone, based on what I gathered.”
“We were doing a shoot for the media, since our last one went bad because of you. Marianne wants to keep AJ and I in the spotlight.” You say quietly, picking at your fingernails.
“Do you know why I left The Organization?” He asks suddenly, stopping at one end of the table and leaning his weight on to his hand resting there.
You take a deep breath, leaning back on the couch and letting the fabric absorb your heat. “I was told you didn’t agree with their methods, and started to enact revenge.”
Joel snorts, now feeling fury run through his bones. “Yeah, you could call it methods.”
You wait patiently, watch Joel become slowly unwound, running a hand through his hair and pulling at the gray streaks by his ears. You could get lost watching him, until he speaks again.
“AJ hurts people.” Joel grinds, refusing to meet your eye line. “The last time I spoke to him, he…”
“You fucking bastard.” Joel growled, knife to AJ’s throat. The trickle of blood ran down the side of his neck on Joel's pinky, warm and unsettling.
“Don’t be like that man–”
“You fucking touched her? And then you killed her?” Joel questioned, anger running high as he pushed deeper at his throat.
AJ’s smile shined brightly, and Joel knew it would haunt him in his sleep. “That’s the thrill of being super Miller–we get to do what we please. Fuck whores and kill them.”
Joel shakes himself from the memory enough to glance up at you. You’re just watching him, calmly resting your head back, eyes tracking him as he fidgets, fingers absentmindly picking at your skin.
He turns to his computer, leaning down to the file cabinet and opening the bottom drawer. He pulls it out fully, each file filled and organized in a particular order. Some would even say he was a neat freak, based on this file cabinet alone, but the file at the back told a different story.
He slides the file out from the back, thicker than all the rest labeled the year that he left The Organization. Gently he places it on the table in front of one of the chairs, glancing up to see your eyebrows rise in interest.
Joel flips it open to the middle, pictures stapled to each side, reports and notes paperclipped behind them and taps three times on AJ’s name that appears over and over again. “Read this.”
He watches you when you stand, his nerves spiking in his blood as you sit down at the table with your hands in your lap and stare down at the open file. His eyes flick back and forth between your face and the file until your hand comes up to flips a page, your fingers shaking.
You’re unaware of Joel’s eyes on you, because all you can see is blood.
You continue to flip through each individual sheet of paper, and dark, blurry photos take up most of your mind. There’s writings on the back of each one in blue ink of a shaky hand, but it’s becoming more and more clear what is there. Evidence of what AJ had done.
August 20th, 10:46 pm
I found AJ around the corner of our stakeout with a woman that only had the chance to run because I distracted him. My wrist is sprained, my nose is broken, but at least she got away.
January 1st, 1:03 am
I went to Marianne last night and she won’t listen to me.
Time slows to a practical halt while you flip through the file, the blue ink being brought over to lined paper and jotting down everything that Joel witnessed. The detail has you cringing, feeling sick to your stomach and having to look away more than once. Eventually, you have to look at the table so that your world stops moving as you wonder aloud, “What did Marianne say? When you went to her?”
“She didn’t care.” His voice is small, breathless, worried.
You let your eyes come up to him from the table and blink heavily. The gruesomness in front of you almost doesn’t compare to the way his eyes are shimmering with discomfort and the memories that must be flowing through him. from the gruesome in front of you to look at him, his eyes shimmering with memories and discomfort. “What?”
“She didn’t care. I showed her this exact file, and she told me to either suck it up or get out.” He spits, reaching across the table and shutting the papers back into their manilla folder and carefully sliding it back into place. He keeps his back to you, hunched over as if he is hiding in the shadow. “I’ve been branded a villain because I don’t think he should be able to get away with that.”
“That doesn’t make any sense.” You say mostly to yourself, but still loud enough for Joel to hear. You cross your arms, looking into the corner and away from Joel to think about what you just read.
You’ve never had encounters like this with AJ. But were they going there? Had you missed his advances and mistook them as trying to intimidate you?
Joel turns his head to you for a moment before breathing, “I know, but I am going to make him pay.”
You school your expression to remain neutral, and shiver running through your body. You’re waiting for him to say more, wanting him to say more than he is going to get revenge, but when he doesn’t you clear your throat. “I still don’t understand how I play a role in this.”
Joel’s eyes meet yours again, the deep brown stare melting you to feel his pain that seems to be churning inside of him. “He looked at you like how he looked at her.” He points to the file now safely put away, bringing his finger back up to you again. “And, I panicked. I couldn’t witness that again.”
Your eyes widen, shocked at the information. Joel had protected you? You had been convinced that he hated you, and was only using you for his gain, but something in how his voice shook made you second guess yourself. “You think he would have done something? To me?”
“He would have tried.” He grumbles, shaking his head. He takes a deep breath, cracking his neck and sighing. “You should know what he is before you go running back to him and Marianne.”
“I’m not going to do that.” You spit out, standing up and walking around the small room. You look around, eyes tracing over his security cameras, the monitors, how each part of the room is arranged neatly and precisely. You shake your head, blinking slowly. “I can’t, now.”
You don’t expect what comes out of Joel’s mouth next, his face blank and his hands clenched by his side he says, “You can help me, if you want.”
The tension in the air builds, bitter on your tongue as your mouth opens to breathe deeply. You should leave. You should run back to your small town where your mother has left her house for you, the deed sitting on the table in the front room. You should run back and assume your old name again, where no one even knows you’re part of The Organization. You should start over, and let the past six months go, and forget about Marianne, about AJ, about Joel fucking Miller.
But if you do that, you’re leaving Joel to do this on his own. To bring down AJ and Marianne as he’s been trying to for years with no success. You leaving open the oppertunity for AJ to hurt someone else, partner or not.
And you can’t let that happen.
A deep breath, and closing of your eyes so that you don’t see his reaction. “I’ll stay.” You whisper, missing the way Joel’s eyes widen, and that sudden gust of air fills his lungs before he smiles.
chapter summary: Anna and Santiago after Benny's fight
rating: 18+ (no minors please) Explicit
word count: ~870 words
warnings etc: mature language used, but nothing graphic, nightmares mentioned, PTSD hinted at.
A/N: Happy Tuesday! These drabbles will be short in nature, but give some further context to the story that I think is important. Let's look further into Anna's thoughts and what she knows from Santiago, shall we? As a side note, I do not know how many more parts there are to Something Else, and I am currently a little stuck in regards as to what I think should happen next. I have things planned, but in what order and timeline-wise, I need time to think about it! Let me know what you think :)
The drive back from Benny’s fight was quiet. Santiago reached for Anna’s hand on multiple occasions, but she was zoned out, far away in her mind as she thought about you. She wondered what signs she had missed about Brad, about why you didn’t tell her it wasn’t actually okay; why you let it slide when she came back from the bathroom all those years ago with lipstick smeared across her jaw.
God, you even helped her clean it up as you told her “He’s just a frat boy, no foul.” when she saw that look on your face that you were hurt. How could you just brush it off like that? She would have gone ballistic if–
“Earth to Annie.” Santi says quietly, pulling up to his apartment and parking a few spots down. “What’s going on, honey?”
Anna takes a deep breath, turning her attention to Santiago. His eyes are sad, a small smile on his face trying to cover it. “Nothing, Santi. I’m just trying to think through some things.” She plasters on her own smile, reaching for his cheek and cradling his face. “What’s going on with you? You and Frankie are typically buddied up and tonight you guys were…” She trails off, tilting her head back and forth.
Santiago looks back forward, cutting the engine and leaning his head back. “He’s upset with me. I…you remember that trip? To South America, I have to go on soon?” Anna nods, picking at the ends of her fingers. “Well, I invited all of the guys. Kinda…finish what we started, type of trip. And Frankie…Frankie has struggled to get back to normal life and-I think I shouldn’t have suggested it anymore.”
Anna stays stoic, watching Santiago fight with his own thoughts before asking, “What business needs to be finished there?”
Santiago turns to her, leather under him creaking with the change. “I don’t want to scare you.” He states, looking down at the middle console.
Anna frowns, reaching for Santiago’s hand. They had talked about his time in the military, and his time in Colombia specifically early on in their relationship. Santiago had confided in her about trying to help Colombia’s police on multiple occasions and had found comfort in her ability to just hold him, tell him he was past it, and let them continue on. “Do you have good intentions?” She questions quietly, something Santiago had heard before.
It had stunned him the first time he heard her say that, sitting on his couch with her arms crossed only a week into them thinking about being serious. He had mentioned that Will was looking for someone to settle down with, and asking her if she had any friends they could set up together. Anna had gotten serious, wanting to know if Santiago’s friends were really what he described them as.
Now, she asks the same question about his own motives. “I…” He doesn’t know how much to tell her, even after months of her proving time and time again that she can handle it. She took everything he threw at her with ease, pointing out the flaws that he missed and comforting him after. “I want us all to be taken care of, and us going back will do that.”
“Is that a given? No errors possible?” She questions, watching him. “Do you know why Frankie is so against it?”
Santiago sits back, looking at his front door. “He said he doesn’t want to kill people again, but it wouldn’t entail that.”
Anna hears the silent “this time” and internally screams. She feels panic course through her veins. “Do you think it is worth your friendship with him to push his boundaries?”
She stunned him again, into total silence. He shakes his head, tears pricking his eyes. “No, of course not.” He turns to her, a small smile on her lips as she lets him think through it. “Will wants to; he said he’s ready as long as Ben and Francisco are ready, but…I don’t know.”
Anna doesn’t know that this includes millions of dollars in the Andes Mountains with a helicopter and guns to protect themselves. Anna doesn’t know that a week down there can turn into a month if something goes wrong. She’s only partly aware of how Santiago beat himself up for how the mission went based on his nightmares, yelling out for “Redfly,” and “Hold steady, Fish,” before sitting up in bed and wrapping himself around her, shivering and giving her small morsels of information from that mission.
“We were ghosts, no one knew we were there.”
“Redfly was too quick to the trigger, and it got him killed.”
“There were too many kids. Why were they giving guns to kids?”
“Give him time, Santi.” Anna sighs, rubbing his arm. “He just got into a relationship, and he will think it over. If it’s really a good idea, and there are good intentions, then he will do it. He trusts you.”
Santi swallows harshly, watching Anna pick up her purse from the floorboard. “What has got you in your head, bebita?”
Anna opens the door, looking at him through the opening and shaking her head. She might start crying if she focuses on it too long. “I fucked up years ago, and I’m only just now being told about it.”
