coraex

[coraex]

Omega and Wrecker are eating their Mantell Mix

Omega- "hey Tick, if you want some updog we have extra"

Tech- "what do you mean? what's updog?"

Wrecker- "ECHO GET IN HERE I TOLD YOU WE COULD MAKE HIM SAY IT!!!"

[coraex]

[coraex]

[coraex]

first burn | tlou jesse pt. 4

pt. 1 pt. 2 and pt. 3

summary: seattle is at boiling point and the revenge you sought after strikes you at your core

pairing: tlou!jesse x fem!reader

word count: 5.9k

content: angry jesse, arguing, tension between jesse and reader. kissing, tlou gore, blood and self loathing to its finest. dialogue taken directly from the game cause FUCK what jesse said in the finale. reader dgaf about abby during THAT moment iykyk. character death 🙂‍↕️ guns and pure heartbreak sprinkled with survivors guilt

a/n: here we go fellas!! the last instalment of first burn. thank u for reading and supporting, ur feedback on each chap is so appreciated!! love u forever jesse lemme do a fix it fic for u <3 also, just to add, reader is not incapable or stupid by any means but seattle is WILD and the team just don’t have time for that

taglist: @beelee-cotton @lostbee20 @pupupwa @ilovetoomanymen @derangeddementor3 @keseqna @blackravena @cxcilla @hsangel64 @tillywasneverhere @peachyxlynch @toesucker59 @antlcrqueen - tysm for reading 🫶

“I don’t think killing them will bring the peace Ellie thinks it will.”

Jesse’s words played on thick, a scratched recorded in your mind as boots pummelled into the muddy sludge, your ankle pulsating with pain with every determined stride you took. You followed close behind Jesse and Dina, the female cradled into his chest and she went in and out of consciousness.

The events that had occurred were not the restoration of peace you had glorified on the back of Zombie on your way to Seattle. Severely humbled, you were taught that sheer confidence on a daydreamed scenario, did not equate to the capability you needed to even survive a day in the city. Nose broken, you knew it would leave a scar, to remind you that your decision was wholeheartedly based on naivety and this was your sudden karma.

Joel Miller was still dead. And, he would remain in the ground, swallowed by nature even after you left Seattle. The Miller brother, rough around the edges but a warmth to those that grew close to him, wouldn’t resurrect you to shower you in gratitude for your selflessness. No. As you thought about it, you would presume it would be the opposite; because you had been selfish.

Head pounded from exhaustion, you hated the way your stomach churned at the thought. The end goal was to do right by Joel Miller, but, you hadn’t. In fact, not a single Wolf suffered at your hands for his death.

Jesse glanced over his shoulder at you to ensure you had remained close in the marathon back to the theatre. Your eyes met for a brief moment, a raw emotion flickered across your face: you were scared. Eyes tracked back in front of him, you huffed out a breath, throat scorched from the excessive running and lack of water amidst the chaos. You were close, you knew by the buildings even in the darkened night, heavy clouds weighed above to signal a change in severe weather.

You rounded the corner and there it was, your base. Jesse slowed down and ordered you to open the door so he could slip Dina in with ease. Adhering to his instruction, you grunted at the weight of the theatre door, Jesse and Dina concealed; you followed a close second.

“Here.” You went to drag a chaise lounge, your muscles weak, and Jesse pushed past you to place Dina down gently. You stared at her, paled and soaked in her own sweat, blood and vomit smeared across her face. She looked as if she could die and that panicked you, “Jesse—”

“—Sit the fuck down and stay quiet.” Jesse bit and you flinched. He gently tapped at Dina’s face which reawakened her into the reality of the searing pain in her knee. Jesse was quick to press his forearm against her chest as she sat up, “Alright, this is going to hurt.” He rummaged in his backpack and Dina panted with a whine.

“No. It already fucking hurts.” Her hand reached out for yours and you hesitantly stepped from behind Jesse who ushered you with annoyance. Dina stared down at her leg as Jesse fumbled with supplies, “Jesse, I can’t die. You can’t let me die—”

“—Yeah, I know.”

“No. You don’t.” She began to cry.

You felt helpless. Her head swayed as Jesse continued to explain that he couldn’t pull the arrow out without tearing an artery. He’d have to push it. They bickered and you stood, silent as told, throat clenched with nausea at the sight of Dina’s open wound.

“Dina, shut up.” Jesse snapped and Dina fell silent in her protests, her clammy hand squeezed yours. Jesse took a breath, “I’ve got you, Dina. Alright? I’ve got you.” He began to pour at the arrow in her knee with alcohol and Dina threw her head back in hot pain. “Here. Have some of this. It’s going to help. Have some.”

You stared at Dina when she gritted her teeth. You wondered if it was an appropriate time for her to tell him she was growing his child in her womb. It would be a little unorthodox, but high levels of stress made your mind askew.

“I said no.” She spat.

OK. So, she wouldn’t tell him.

Your hand braced against hers as if you were entered into an arm wrestle, your body bent at the waist to offer some support as Jesse forced the arrow through her leg. She let out a wail that sent goosebumps up your arm, her body slumped as she fell unconscious, her breathing laboured. You felt her pulse for a moment. Still alive.

Kneeling down next to Jesse, you watched his hands make quick work to unravel the gauze. There had been many times he had returned home, wounds a plenty from his patrol and you would tend to them with warm kisses and tender touch. It was something you had become good at, because you always wanted to be there for Jesse in the rarity of his weakened moments.

Your fingertips went to grab the gauze from Jesse, allow him to take a break. In turn, he pulled away sharply, haphazardly wrapping it around Dina’s bleeding leg.

“Barricade the entries.” Jesse muttered to you. His words hit a wall in front of your face and his patience grew thin, your name liked venom on the tip of his tongue. “I said, go barricade the doors.”

It took almost two hours as you limped around all possible entries into the theatre, once Dina was dabbed with a damp cloth to take her temperature down, Jesse joined efforts with you, taking the larger furniture that you struggled to push and doing the job himself.

You were walking — limping — on eggshells around him. Jesse hadn’t been a male that expressed a need to make you nervous in his presence, but, the way he stormed around the room made you wince; worried that one flicker of a match and he would blow up in your face. Your hands wrung as you watched him pace back and forth with heavy items, a grunt escaped his lips as the sofa dropped against the cabinets to create a barricade. Hands brushed against each other, he turned to look at you.

You felt small. Pinned under his bitter gaze.

His finger pointed to your ankle, “Let me take a look.” You looked down at the mess of your ankle and shook your head which made Jesse sigh. You were always so fucking stubborn. “Please.”

It wasn’t hard to give into Jesse. You loved him. Backside against the tabletop, Jesse knelt at your feet, his hand delicately taking your busted ankle into his grasp to inspect it. Perhaps, you thought, he was looking for a bite mark so he had a reason to shoot you in the head.

He was angry after all.

“Why did you lie to me?” There it was. The burning question you were waiting for. His tone was monotonous as he prodded at your wound.

You flinched, “I would call it an evasion of truth. I didn’t specifically relay to you that I wasn’t going to Seattle.” You paused as he met your eyes, “So, if we are going by technicalities—”

“—Do you have to do that?”

“What?”

Jesse pulled more gauze out.

“A sarcastic retort.” He mumbled, “You’re being dismissive of the situation.”

He was right. You blew hot air through your lips, “I—Sure. I thought you knew how I felt about the outcome of the Council vote. Part of me expected you to put the pieces of the puzzle together. I was always going to go.”

“Oh, I knew.” Jesse paused and let out a soft chuckle — a slip up on his act.

“You knew?” You tried to calculate how many times you had been blatantly obvious about your intentions with Seattle before you left. “Then. . . Why didn’t you stop me?”

“Because. I believed that you loved me enough to not lie about entering a war-torn city on horseback with three weeks worth of one-to-one combat.” He felt himself become angered in bringing up what hurt him the most, “You should’ve waited. I would’ve come. You knew that.”

Actually, you didn’t. That part shocked you.

You blinked, “Jesse. You were adamant on your stance that the Council voted to stay put in Jackson.” Ankle smeared in agony as Jesse continued to wrap it up, “How the fuck would I have known you would go against your own word?”

Immediately, you regretted what you had threw back at him. His fingers stopped tending to your ankle, his posture straightened as his lips pulled into a thin line. Even when crouched before you, it felt as if Jesse towered over you with his face thunderous.

Your heart stammered. The formidable fear that you were losing him struck you down the middle. The conversation was sprung upon you, and after escaping death by a fraction, your brain hadn’t been in the function to comprehend the emotional maturity it required to mend the fractures of your relationship.

You were losing Jesse before your very eyes.

“I had to say that, so you wouldn’t go do something rash. I couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt, or worse in Seattle.” Jesse felt himself become emotional at the forefront, “And yet, you still fucking did it. You’re still hurt, because you chose to leave, and that responsibility weighs heavy on my shoulders. You know why? Because, it’s evident that my love was not enough for you to stay. This is now my problem.”

“Jesse. I do love you.”

“Then why did you leave?” He raised his voice, “A fucking note to say goodbye. What kind of boyfriend am I, if I can’t even protect you?”

“Did it ever cross your mind that I don’t need you to protect me, Jesse? I’m capable of looking after myself.” You crossed your arms defensively before Jesse took a moment to stand, a patronising laugh escaped his lips and you frowned, “What is suddenly funny?”

He pointed to your grazed chin and broken nose, “Look at your capability.” He then dropped his finger to your busted ankle, “It’s gotten you far in your little escapade to Seattle.”

An insult forming on your tongue, Jesse was saved by the pounding of a fist against the door closest to your bodies. Immediately, Jesse put himself between you and the door, his gun dropped from his shoulder and aimed in front of him with ease.

“Jesse, Dina—!” And your name followed.

“What’s the name of your horse?” Jesse kept the gun aimed even in the obvious state that Ellie Williams was on the other side.

Ellie called, “Shimmer. I’m alone.” There was a pause, “Open the fucking door!”

Jesse dropped his aim and took a couple of strides to the door, shoving the sofa propped up against cabinets to allow himself to open the door for Ellie. She stumbled in, eyes wild, slick with mud — and by the looks of it, not her own blood. She was frantic in her movements, scanning the area to locate the one person that was above the rest.

“Where is she?”

“Dina?” You asked stupidly and Ellie threw you a look, “She’s OK. She’s in the Dressing Room—”

Jesse interjected, “—Where were you?” Ellie ignored his query and shoved past you toward the location of Dina, “Ellie!”

After Ellie had disappeared to tend to Dina, you had slumped against your own rucksack on the floor. Uncomfortable, but it would suffice. Your nose had it’s own pulse, alongside your ankle as you attempted to slip into an unconscious state. Irritated, you turned onto your side, shoulder cracking in the process as your eyes narrowed to Jesse, who had fallen asleep sitting up — gun propped up against his shoulder.

He would be enraged, but there wasn’t an appropriate requirement to shake him from his slumber. Instead, you pushed off of the floor, your backpack dragged alongside you as you dropped next to his sleeping frame. Your own gun laid next to your thigh, you took it upon yourself to override Jesse’s night watch for his own sanity. You were aware of the motive behind the whole group’s presence in Seattle, and as a qualified leader, you knew Jesse would be first pick when it came down to Ellie’s choice of person.

You would help where you could.

The sun began to rise, a red sky warned before it darkened to grey, the swell of the clouds burst and rainfall came heavy. Your own eyes began to drop from your own lack of sleep, just as Jesse began to stir next to you.

He groaned, neck rolled from falling asleep with his chin tucked into his chest. Eyes bleary, he blinked the sleep away, head shifting in a panic before his stare settled on you.

You offered him a shy smile, testing the waters. His frown grew where his patience lacked, and he stood with an immediate cause. His chest puffed, “Don’t ever do that again for me. If I fall asleep, wake me up for my watch.”

“Yes, sir.” You saluted him mockingly and he stalked off to find Ellie in the Dressing Room.

Without a turn to sleep, you threw yourself into distractions. Busied with drying off Ellie’s weapons for her next rendezvous with Joel’s killers, you sat hunched on the floor where Jesse had left you, scrubbing at bullets whilst you muttered under your breath about the tedious task. You were silently demoted and it began to frustrate you. Ellie and Jesse spoke amongst themselves just far enough out of reach of your hearing abilities, hushed tones as they mapped out logical moves; something you wouldn’t be apart of.

You were capable to a degree. However, the past twenty-four hours had shred the confidence that Ellie — let alone Jesse — had in you. There were no second chances, but you were determined to prove yourself in little actions such as becoming Ellie’s drying rack for her weapons.

As you placed another bullet down, alarmed at the sheer volume that Ellie had on her person, Jesse slumped down next to you. His shoulder bumped yours as you dropped the damp rag in your hand. You were busy — or, acting as if you were — so your eyes didn’t trail up to look at his face. You had no right to be mad at him, you were the one who left everything behind on a lie whilst the sun met the horizon.

Busying himself by mirroring you, Jesse stood his gun between his legs and began to polish the sides. From your peripheral, you could see he wasn’t really cleaning his gun from the minor flaws such as splattered mud. If your conversation hours prior hadn’t escalated, you might’ve thrown a sarcastic remark his way, a laugh shared to follow. You had been in this situation before, after an argument, Jesse would find closeness with you and perform a mundane task to grab your attention.

If Jesse didn’t have the words to cut the chord on the tension, he’d act out until resolved enough to talk.

He feigned a spit against the rag, and you let yourself stare with petulance. Jesse paused his motions to look back at you with an innocence, his head turned to look behind him before returning his eyes back to you.

“Stop it.” You warned.

“Stop what, exactly?” He queried, “I’m just cleaning my gun.”

You scoffed, “You’re pretending.” Palms against the floor, you leant your weight into your arms, “If you want to talk to me, Jesse, you can just say that instead of pretending to spit in a rag to clean the mud off of your gun. Which — by the way — hasn’t budged since you started.”

“Hm.” Jesse tucked the cloth into his pocket, “Ellie and I will be heading out soon to find Tommy.”

“OK. I’ll get ready—”

“—That wasn’t an invitation. You’re staying here with Dina.” He gestured with his head to the resting girl, “You’d be one hell of a liability. With or without a ruined ankle.”

His remark scathed you, “You don’t have to be so mean.”

“OK.” Jesse agreed, a small smirk noticeable on his face, “I love you. And I want you safe. So, please stay within the confines of the theatre with Dina.”

“You still love me?” It had your chest aching. His casualness caught you off guard, nonplussed by such nonchalance over a confession you had assumed was buried six feet beneath dirt; decayed and soon forgotten.

Jesse stood as Ellie threw a nod to signal their departure. He slung his gun back round his shoulder, “Unfortunately, for me. Yes. You’re not off the hook, but I’d be a liar — just like you — to say I didn’t love you anymore.” A lopsided smile exchanged the smirk, “You made a mistake. Everyone makes them.”

“Here.” Unsure of how to follow his confessional up, you slipped one of the only remaining food packs into Jesse’s hand which he took willingly. “Break a leg food. Or—Or be safe food. Whatever one works in the moment.”

Jesse flipped the pack in his hand, “Did you steal this from Patrol?”

“OK. Now you’re beginning to split hairs for the sake of splitting—”

Jesse cut you off. Large palm to the back of your head, he pulled you in and pressed a firm kiss to your lips. You let your hands clasp his forearms before you slipped them around his neck, bending backwards slightly so he could chase your lips.

His warmth consumed you whole. Your chest pressed against his, hearts threaded back together after being so carelessly torn apart, suddenly the dying world around you seized to exist. It was only Jesse and you. Privileged to survive together, and that is the only thing that mattered to you. Because, once your hands were washed clean from the death of the W.L.F. members who took Joel Miller’s life, your life had to continue; and you decided you needed Jesse to be apart of that.

Once pulled back, Jesse pressed his forehead against yours. His eyes shut for a moment to digest that he may be saying goodbye. Seattle had slowly unfolded to be a bigger situation than any of you could have anticipated, and leaving the walls of your base meant that you may never return.

You were a little shocked by Jesse to say the least. One eye peeled open, you had to make sure that he wasn’t kissing you out of spite.

Fingertips traced every feature on his face, as if you were memorising it all for the final time.

“I love you too, Jesse.” You whispered and with that, Jesse pulled away, the jaws of emptiness snapped around your ankles and dragged you away from him. Arms wrapped around your own torso, you watched Jesse and Ellie slip out of the theatre into the war in Seattle.

The silence was overwhelming, your head turned to see Dina return to the couch to prop her wounded leg up. An unspoken wedge had formed between the pair of you, even when you clutched at her hand as the arrow was pushed through the flesh of her leg. The looming shadow of the conversation you needed to have with her, peering at you from every corner of your dreams. She was pregnant with Jesse’s baby. It should have been the least of your worries considering the circumstances that had unfolded; but it still clawed at your mind all the same.

You sat at the edge of the couch. Hands neatly placed into your lap as you stared out into the emptiness of the room. Dina watched you for a moment, amusement crossed her features until you met her gaze — suddenly your odd behaviour wasn’t particularly funny anymore.

She spoke your name, “What’s wrong?”

Part of her knew. Where you lacked in intelligence to survival, you made up for in piecing things together. You had been attentive to Dina since your arrival in the theatre, but she could notice the distance, the barricaded wall put before your words. Eyes empty, a frown on your face when you handed the ginger biscuit before framing yourself with a faux smile.

It was only a matter of time before the question cropped up. You were straight to the point throughout your blossoming friendship, Dina knew you wouldn’t beat around the bush to salvage her feelings.

You sighed to her question. A stomachache from nerves from trying to approach the subject with the right tone.

“Dina—” You started, a look thrown her way that made her chest constrict, “You’re pregnant with Jesse’s baby. Aren’t you?”

She nodded. She couldn’t lie.

“Can you give specifics of how far along you are?” Oh. Dina thought. You were prodding at a dead carcass. You squeezed one eye shut, “I’ll try stay calm, you know.”

Dina smoothed the hairs at her forehead, “We weren’t together, when you two became a thing. If that’s what you’re getting at. I—I don’t know how far long I am, but, it’ll be further than when you and Jesse started seeing each other.”

“Right.” You nodded, not wholly convinced.

Dina repeated your name, her hand reached for yours for sincerity, “Jesse was—is crazy about you. The moment you entered Jackson, we all knew our situation was over because he looked at you as if you hung the stars before ever fucking speaking to you.” She laughed at the memory, “I remember he practiced what he was going to say to you on Ellie, of all fucking people.”

“That would’ve been a sight.” You laughed with Dina momentarily, it quick to die on your tongue, “I’m sorry. For accusing you.”

“Hey. I would too.” Dina said, “You were pretty nice about it.”

“I should learn not to be.” You joked a little. The fleeting moment of normalcy struck your core and your face dropped the act. Satisfied with the outcome, you chose not to linger, “I’m just going to check on Zombie. I’m surprised he hasn’t eaten one of us whilst we slept.”

You didn’t wait for Dina’s answer. Leaving her to rest, you got up from the couch and strolled to the room where Zombie had been kept. He had grown irritated, hooves stomping at the carpeted floor, head shaking in disdain as you neared him with one of the last apples from your rationed pack from Jackson.

Palm flat out with the apple shown as a prize for Zombie, the Appaloosa huffed before taking the fruit from your hand; turning his back on you to eat it alone.

“You know, just because you can’t see me, doesn’t mean I can’t see you, Zombie.” You patted his stomach and he turned away again, earning a chuckle from your lips, “Zombie. It is not my fault you’re cooped up in here like a caged animal. . . In fact, it is my fault, but we’ll be out of here soon.”

Zombie whinnied and you nodded, “Trust me. I want to be out of Seattle, just as much as you.”

Spending a couple of hours in Zombie’s presence — surprisingly — finding him calming as you managed to scoop up the horseshit and throw it out the door, unnoticed. The hay was becoming limited, but there was enough to see him through another night. And, it felt as though things were coming to a head in Seattle, so you had confidence you would all be returning to Jackson by the next morning.

Water collected from the rainfall, you poured it into a spare bucket you had found for Zombie, disbelieving that you were retracing your days work from Jackson in a theatre in Seattle whilst the patrol members went on their trails.

“This is such fucking bullshit.” You had grown angry as you slammed the pale of water down for the horse. Your hands thrown out in frustration, “I should be out there, don’t you think? I might’ve been a major help finding Tommy.”

Zombie snorted.

“Traitor.” Just as you crossed your arms, the thunder cracked and muffled banging came from the doors where you had left Dina. You sprung into action, swearing when you rolled over your bad ankle as you ran to meet Dina who had begun limping toward to the door, “Woah—Do you know who it is?”

“It’s them.” You felt goosebumps rise and Dina continued, “Our group.”

Quicker together, you managed to lean against the sofa long enough so Dina could let the group in. Hit with the sideways rainfall, you turned your face to the side to prevent being hit directly in the face. Jesse and Tommy Miller filtered through, soaked to the bone and faces stoic, Jesse quick to press his forearm to the sofa you wobbled to keep upright. The question on your tongue, where the fuck is Ellie? died when the very person trudged in, her soul miles away as she stared blankly upon entry.

Jesse met your curiosity over Ellie’s behaviour with a shake of his head. Wet tendrils dangled in front of his face, but you knew his eyes were telling you not to poke the bear.

Dina followed Ellie into the Dressing Room and you were left with Jesse and Tommy who peeled their wet clothes from their bodies, immediately jumping into speaking of tactics against the stage, whilst you organised their weapons for drying.

Once handling a couple of rounds, you took a break, head titled from the seats as you watched the backs of Tommy Miller and Jesse pointing at the map they had sprawled out. Boots kicked off of the chair in front, you made it down to them where they were quick to quieten down in your presence.

That irked you.

“Don’t stop just because I’m here.” You insisted, face warmed under Tommy Miller’s watchful eye.

He looked like he was trying to recognise you.

His fingers snapped together, “You’re that girl banned from Patrol.” Fucking perfect. Tommy nodded to his revelation as Jesse’s shoulders began to shake with humour, “Yeah. The late one. How’d you end up gettin’ here?”

“She came by herself.” Jesse spoke for you, a hand massaged your shoulder, “A valiant knight with little experience.”

You swatted at his hand, “I have experience. I just got unlucky.”

“You tell yourself that.” Jesse tugged your earlobe in subtle affection, Tommy crossed his arms watching in amusement. Jesse added, “We’re going home.”

As the reply of excitement left your mouth, Ellie opened the doors from the stage, her face paled but her emotions collected. She looked to the three of you before catching the map at Tommy and Jesse’s elbows. She knelt down, before swinging her legs over the edge of the stage, a decent bruise noticeable across her cheek.

Without further questioning, Tommy and Jesse launched into talking shop with Ellie.

“Hey—” Tommy halted their plans, “They got what they deserved.” You were none the wiser but able to piece things together as Ellie responded, Tommy quick to reply about her quip on — presumably — Abby Anderson’s survival, “Yeah. . . Is that OK?”

All eyes went to Ellie.

She sighed, “It’s going to have to be.”

That was the confirmation Tommy Miller was heeding. Ellie Williams, albeit plagued by the obsession of Abby Anderson’s desired death, would settle for retiring to Jackson, Wyoming. This granted the passage for the four of you to retrieve your belongings and escape the jaws of Seattle unscathed further by the war that settled in it’s belly.

Without Ellie’s reinforcement of the plan. You had feared you may have been stuck in time until the deed was done.

“What you should be worried about is what Maria’s gonna do to you when we get home.” Jesse rubbed at your back, insinuating that Tommy Miller was in for a rough welcoming from his wife.

Tommy straightened, “We’ve been through worse. However, I was passing through some ritzy section of town. Came across this necklace.” He elaborated, “Sparkles a lot. I think it’s real gold.”

“You think it’s real gold?” You asked.

Tommy nodded, “It’s real gold.” Jesse was quick to ask to see it and Tommy pushed himself off of the stage, hand to his lower back, “I know what real gold looks like.”

“If it’s legit, can we say it’s from all of us?”

“Ha!” Tommy teased, “You find your own damn bribes.”

He stalked off up to the back of the theatre, leaving you alone with Jesse and Ellie.

Jesse took a moment before he turned his attention to Ellie, “How are you doing?” He asked and Ellie was quick to retaliate with a falsified answer. Jesse side-eyed you, “Ellie.”

She looked to her feet, a tick of silence, “Thanks for coming back for me.”

“My friends problems are my problem.” Jesse shrugged at Ellie, his hand smoothed against your hip to tug you into his side. His lips pressed to your temple before he nudged your side to look up at him. Ellie grunted in disgust when he pulled you in for a tender kiss. Unspoken promises of love that would continue on your return to Jackson. Things would be OK.

“You’re such a sap.” Ellie mocked.

“Alright. How about, my friends can’t get out of their own damn way.” Jesse teased and pinched your hip, “That includes you.” Followed up with your name for a direct call out.

Ellie let herself laugh softly, “That’s better.”

The moment was peaceful. Your return home was on the precipice, too engulfed in the agony to leave Seattle behind to add to the two friend’s conversation.

As tactile as he could be, Jesse rubbed at your neck, the moment of bliss soon disrupted by a cluttered noise toward the direction that Tommy had exited in. Hand dropped from your neck, all three bodies turned to the noise before a muffled grunt — no mistaking it to be Tommy’s — sent alarm bells through you. Ellie jumped down from the stage, muttering a ‘Shit’ in passing as she yanked her gun from her holster.

Unable to sit by and allow them to see the commotion through, you copied Ellie and Jesse’s movements. Your gun tucked into the waistband, haphazardly pulled, safety clicked off as you followed them closely up the aisle and to the doors that concealed Tommy.

Both Jesse and Ellie swung the wooden doors open with ease, you were just a hair away from Jesse as he held out his gun to shoot the threat. A gunshot rang through the air, and your feet tripped over the sudden slump of his body. You hissed as your cheek burnt across the carpet, eyes scrunched as you looked back to check on Jesse — he was never one to trip with such precision in his every move.

Blood poured from the exposed bullet wound, Jesse laid dead and within seconds you scrambled to him, your hands shaking at his broad shoulders. Ellie called out his name in the softest tone you had managed to hear through the ringing of your ears.

"Stand up!" A female voice ordered when the tears began to blind your vision, hands to Jesse's face, nail beds painted in his blood. "Hands in the air, or I shoot this one too!"

Tommy Miller laid flat against the floor, his dignity clutching on by a thread in his weakened position against Abby Anderson. You remained knelt with Jesse's body, your fingers pressed to his neck pleading for a pick up on a pulse.

        In response to your disobedience, Abby shot at you and a perfect hit embedded into your shoulder, your vision white from the hot searing pain. Ellie yelled for your protection when you let out a wail from the unprecedented agony Abby had inflicted on you.

        On a high from adrenaline, the bullet in your shoulder proved to be a pain lessened by the sight of Jesse drained of colour. His hair began to saturate with his thick blood, your fingertips stroked through the strands, spit dropped from your mouth onto his flannel, as your body shuddered out a sob.

        The outside noise drowned out.

        Abby seemingly decided to spare you.

        Now, it was just you and Jesse. The last of the strength you could muster, you had half pulled him onto your lap, his head lolled and you wretched. The wound on his cheek gaped and exposed flesh beneath the skin surface, your fingers avoided tracing across it.

        Every decision made by you had a Butterfly Effect that gifted people with death. From what you had presumed, your three strikes had earned Joel Miller a death sentence. And now, as Jesse stilled, eyes glazed over, the fourth — and unexpected — strike scraped across you.

Jesse came on horseback to Seattle with the intention of bring his friends back, bringing you back to Jackson wrapped up in his safety. Now, as he laid deceased upon your lap, eyes wide to the atrocities, Jesse would never return to his position in Jackson and his last moments consumed by fear that his promise wasn’t followed through.

Stomach churned with devastation and guilt, you leant your forehead against Jesse’s and immediately recoiled. You couldn’t feel him anymore. Slowly, as his own blood pooled beneath him, Jesse was becoming a shell of who he once was and the one person amidst the blistering chaos that was brought by the Virus, that could make you feel something again.

Your head rolled back, unable to catch a breath, hands slick with the blood of your boyfriend, you let your eyelids close — unable to process the commotion happening within the room. For, nothing else mattered, your brain rewired from the fixation of avenging a man named Joel Miller, to assuring that Jesse’s body was retrieved and taken back to his home, Jackson, Wyoming, to receive the upmost respect of a burial and a headstone that read of his leadership qualities, and the type of person that made falling in love easier than falling asleep.

Finding the energy to peel your eyelids open, you took one deep breath before the butt of a gun was brutally smacked against your temple; body slumped next to Jesse’s, your clothes saturated in his blood, your hand still laid onto his body.

You would find the capability to somehow survive this attack. For Jesse; you would return home to Jackson.

[coraex]

first burn | tlou jesse pt. 3

pt. 1 pt. 2 ft don’t be tardy

summary: reunited with dina and ellie, you proceed in seattle to find joel’s killers

pairing: tlou!jesse x fem!reader

word count: 3.6k

content: awkward tension between reader and dina (not hateful), mentions of pregnancy, vomiting, the usual tlou gore, a lot of dialogue which I’ve cut, blood, reader cannot catch a break and gets a bit fucked up, and the cold shoulder from a certain somebody

a/n: how do we all feel after the finale? i would say i’m still in stage denial over jesse 🙂‍↕️ again: inaccuracies etc etc i have a lot of brain fog, try do my research to stay true to the storyline but yeesh sometimes i just do my own thing. i rushed the end cause omg get to the point

taglist: @beelee-cotton @lostbee20 @pupupwa @ilovetoomanymen @derangeddementor3 @keseqna @blackravena @cxcilla @hsangel64 - tysm for reading! also @tillywasneverhere surprise ITS TODAY

You had learnt the names of the tight-knit group that enforced the torture on Joel Miller and pinned down Ellie Williams to make her watch her father figure in his final moments. Ellie had spent the last of her energy explaining each one from both her and Dina's memory, even when warped in a high stress situation.

You had listened intently, splitting a bag of dried fruit as if it were dessert with Ellie — Dina politely declined with the colour drained from her face. In all honesty, you felt a little helpless at sea, you were being kept afloat just by the skin of your teeth but you were starting to think you were beyond out of your own depth. Ellie had been clearly cherrypicking her details and it struck that perhaps you had entered something you didn't fully comprehend.

        The next morning, it weighed on your chest whilst you readied your bag, Ellie taking the time to inspect the building amenities in daylight. Dina had been sat fiddling with the radio, enough static to make your head split, as she mapped out potential W.L.F. locations through triangulations; a talent that was beyond your assistance.

        Beaded with sweat, Dina looked as if she were keeping vomit at bay whilst you sat a few feet away against a pillar, mindlessly rolling your head back and forth. If you hadn't had stumbled into their conversation, Dina was the shining example of a human intentionally hiding an infected bite from the rest of her team members.

        You dusted off your trousers when you stood and decided to not punish her further, mumbling that you would be tending to Zombie if he hadn't eaten through the interior of the building to escape — the muffled wretch from Dina not going amiss when you left the room.

        Astounded that Zombie remained in the same spot you had left him, grazing on the hay you had packed whilst he laid on the hard floor to relax. His movements halted, ear flicked backward to listen to the sudden movement before he stood to the grand height of himself.

        "It's just me." Even after Jesse and you had spent overtime to tame the Appaloosa, there were fleeting moments of dread that he would drag you by the ankle with his teeth. Taking a step closer, Zombie let out a disgruntled huff, "Yeah—I know. We're getting out of here soon. I thought Shimmer would've been here to keep you company, I'm sorry."

Hard pat to his stomach, you began to stare absentmindedly. Jesse's words at the forefront of your mind, when he explained that the revenge Ellie sought out for Joel's killers wouldn't bring the peace she thought it would. There was no sudden change of heart, it was a complex situation, however, you were starting to think Jesse had something of an intellectual thought there.

Silent moments were beginning to be filled with repentance. You carried the guilt in your ribs. A pain that struck the softness between your ribcage when you inhaled to pin a reminder that you betrayed Jesse to salvage your own inner demons painted in your own failure that led you to believe that you had ultimately caused Joel Miller's death.

But, that wasn't correct. Ellie had slipped up on that.

They wanted Joel dead. That was the catch you had missed when you packed up your life in Jackson, Wyoming and abandoned Jesse in the sheets of your shared bed. The outcome still remained the same. The meat of the information about what the W.L.F. had against Joel Miller, had been cut out by Ellie, but you still wanted to pick them of; they took a community member from your ranks.

"Hey." Ellie called from behind you, the niggling thought of taking Zombie back to Jackson diminished. Ellie added, "Dina has found our chance. . . Zombie stays here.”

        Located down a stretch of buildings swarmed with W.L.F soldiers, the night sky had been your only blanket of discreetness as the three of you minimised yourselves the best you could under the rotating searchlight that brandished an obnoxious ray of white light across the landscape.

Ellie and Dina weaved through the terrain with the skills picked up on whilst drafted on Patrol. You — on the other hand — were a bit clunky, feet tripped over untied laces, chin scraped against the wet concrete and your mouth forming a string of apologies as Ellie yanked you up with a couple of insults clipping you round the ear.

It was hard to concentrate. You hadn't been on many patrol routes where imminent threat was prominent. Part of you harboured the knowledge that as he was in a leadership role, Jesse had organised your patrol routes to be the mundane, simpler ones because he knew you weren't as skilled of a fighter amongst the rest of the patrolmen. Without experience, you were rendering to be a deadweight on Ellie and Dina's limbs.

You would try your best. For Joel.

With a little help, all three of you managed to enter the desired building from Dina's triangulations without being picked up from the soldiers patrolling the area. You dropped to your backside, the palm of your hand pressed against the graze on your chin as your eyes squeezed shut to suppress the throb.

Dina bent at the waist and brought up stomach acid, the yellow bile hitting the edge of your boots.

"You should eat." You managed a whisper.

A wipe to her mouth, Dina swallowed, "I'm not hungry."

Your baby is. Is what you wanted to say out of irritancy and retaliation. Although, only knowing snippets of information, you'd like to think yourself more mature than stooping to a level of pettiness.

Hand rummaged through the contents of your bag, you plucked a ginger biscuit that you had salvaged from a building whilst Dina and Ellie tracked through the worn streets of Seattle ahead of you. From what you had scoured in a pregnancy book one night out of pure curiosity, you had recalled seeing that ginger biscuits helped with sickness levels throughout pregnancy, and more importantly the first trimester — if your calculations were right.

You extended your hand to Dina who looked ominously at the biscuit pinched between your fingers.

"It helps with sickness." You noted, not missing the shot of panic in Dina's face. You gestured for her to take it before settling back against the wall. A softened smile on your face when Dina headed your advice and nibbled at the biscuit.

Ellie came into view, her gaze locked onto the biscuit in Dina’s hand, “Where’d you get that?”

“No sign of infected then?” Dina retaliated and stuffed the biscuit into her jacket pocket.

Ellie shrugged, “Haunted, but empty.” She crouched and pulled at her earlobe as Dina followed it up with a lighthearted joke, “Look, I’m not saying there won’t be infected somewhere in there. In fact, there’s no fucking way this entire place is empty.”

“But, not a horde. Right?” You needed reassurance before you entered the belly of the building.

“We’re not underground, and the Wolves are right next door with their vehicles and lights. A horde isn’t going to ignore that shit.” You felt the drop in your shoulders in relief from the tension they were holding. Zoned out as Dina went into the probability of a few stragglers that could be easily swept out with their experience. Her serious tone caught your attention back, “Hey. If it gets bad, and we have to make a choice between shooting and running. We run.”

“Last resort. Got it.” Ellie agreed, not missing the way Dina’s stare lingered on her, “Oh. So you think no matter what happens, I’m just going to start firing?”

You nodded as Dina verbalised her confirmation of the same.

It was a little awkward. Palpable tension between the two women and you were stuck in the middle. Choosing not to listen into their conversation, you fiddled with your gun and blocked out their voices — something that came easy to you when you didn’t think you should hear it.

“Here we go.” You all stood after a moment more, minimal weaponry as you crept through the door in single file.

You fleshed out in the room, Dina and Ellie close by but a few metres apart from where you were crouched. Ellie shone her torch to the hollow room, all eyes peered from above the pallets as the shape of a human form twitched beneath the shadows and out of sight. The sound of more than a few stragglers piqued your worry that you were outnumbered.

Back against a pallet, your ears rang when you dropped back down from catching a glimpse under torchlight of an infected member, proven to be agile as it dipped from the exposure of Ellie's light. Dread began to pull at your feet, your chest constricted when you watched Dina and Ellie talk quietly amongst themselves adjacent to where you were.

Fingers grappled at the knife unsheathed in your hand, the palm of your hand ached from how hard you grasped the weapon. Whilst the attack on Jackson had left its prominent scars, something felt entirely off centre in the warehouse and you hadn't been prepared for the possibility of coming into contact with alternate infected to the ones you had encountered before.

Dina caught you with a vigorous wave, the pair of them gesticulate to explain the plan with little survival rate. You shook your head and Ellie nodded out of frustration, dismissive to your panic.

You didn't have time to sit and stew.

Ellie made that crystal clear by the grit of her teeth.

Death chapped at your door, Ellie and Dina braced for a quick kiss before their plan unfolded. Grappled by your bicep, Dina hauled you from your position and you almost lost your footing from the sheer force of her pull. Gunshots pierced your ear and you flinched, head ducked and one eye squeezed shut as you felt a hand snatch your ankle and the rug was pulled from underneath you.

Immediately winded, you heaved out a hoarse breath. The bridge of your nose split wide open, hot blood poured into the crevices of your teeth whilst your fingernails clawed at the smooth surface. The infected had you, intelligent in it’s movements, it had basked in the — ironically — lateness of your motion against Ellie’s who was fighting off a pack of them solo. Divided from the group that sought after Ellie, you were uncomplicated to attack.

A scream of your name ripped from Dina’s mouth, the silence swarmed in gunshots and merciful yells. You had managed to link your arms around a column that held the warehouse up, your boot coming into contact with the infected’s jaw but not enough to keep it at bay.

Your flight or fight mode had activated and it was a little blurred between the lines. Death wasn’t an option for you, there was a point to prove to the community of Jackson and more importantly, Jesse — if you ever saw him again. You refused to be reduced to a headstone, name carved into it with shame. There was little experience, but you would fight blindly if it meant you could return to Jackson by the skin of your teeth.

On the other hand, as you flipped from belly to back, the infected that had cleverly picked you out, clambered back on top of you and the closeness made you almost wish for a quick and painless ending. Your mouth pinned shut as you fought against it’s desperation, fingertips brushed the knife you had prematurely slotted back into it’s place against your thigh when Dina had dragged you up. The world was muffled, Ellie had taken a handful of infected down alone, her rage seeping from every orifice of her body, she refused to die before Abby Anderson met her fate.

Channeling the energy that Ellie had, you yanked at your knife, the tip plunged into the infected’s head and it squealed like a pig. You took advantage of the recoil in it’s grasp, flipping yourself over to straddle it before plunging your knife into every exposed, rotten flesh you could find. Vision black, the body beneath you slumped and you had little time to recover before another one caught you in its sights.

A fraction of a hair away, head turned to see the close proximity of the second infected before it hit the column next to you from the force of a bullet lodging into its temple. You got whiplash from how quick you snapped your head round from where the gunshot grazed your ear.

Jesse — your Jesse — came into the remainder of your vision, gun held close, he pulled the trigger with ease and picked off the final stretch of infected that swarmed Ellie like moths to a flame. She laid under a heap, her head upright when Jesse’s silhouette came close and you wondered if he would shoot her there and then. There was no plausible way that Ellie Williams had survived a no bite situation.

His hand stretched out to pull her up and Dina slid onto her knees next to you, hands to your shoulders as she checked you over. The brunette was a distant memory, eyes locked onto Jesse’s frame as he spoke concisely to Ellie about the potential of being bitten.

Waterline brimmed with tears, Jesse becoming nothing but an outline of a person, you shamelessly began to shake, lips pulled into a frown when Dina hugged you tightly.

“I want to go home.” You sobbed.

“I know.” Dina was soft in her tone, a thumb brushed against your shoulder. She spent a moment longer embracing you before she stood up to Ellie’s defence, “She didn’t get bit. She’s OK, they didn’t bite her—Jesse. I swear.”

       Hesitant to believe in the impossible, Jesse turned his attention to your crumpled frame on the concrete. Your ankle torn, chest heaving to gather a breath whilst your nose clogged from the blood that had begun to dry up. You looked anything but someone who had confidently packed up in the night to fight alongside Ellie in Seattle.

He was knelt next to you in an instant. His thumb and forefinger pressed at your chin to angle your face upward to inspect the damage on your nose. His touch felt like a bruise, a sore reminder that bloomed in bluish tones that you left him on a lie.

His face close, but you could feel the miles between you. The pinch of his brow gave you an ounce of hope that he still cared deep down as you knew Jesse wasn’t bounding over to you to give you a welcoming kiss. Your mouth eliciting a hiss as he pressed his hand close to your shredded ankle.

“Can you stand?”

You joked. You shouldn’t have. A reference to your easy love.

“I think you might have to drag me.”

Jesse recoiled. His closeness retracted and you felt yourself drown under the cold water he had just thrown over you in his response. You were wrong for the reference, an intimate moment that you had no privilege to speak on anymore. Deserving in the reaction he gifted you, but you weren’t made of stone; your heart struck in a pain you hadn’t felt before.

“We’ve got to go.” Jesse informed as Ellie pulled you from your spot on the ground — not missing his subtle glance from his peripheral to you.

No questions asked, the three of you — shaken but able to heed order — followed Jesse to the exit of the building. Ankle burned with the pressure you were forcing on it, you tried your best to maintain the same pace as the rest of the group as the sound of other people echoed through the area.

There was no time to wallow in self-pity over Jesse’s rejection. Your entitlement was flawed but you pushed it down and kept focussed on the movement of your feet; doing everything and more to not roll over your bad ankle and become a liability in the escape.

Lights shone onto your bodies, alerting the soldiers nearby. Two men came into view, guns held at the ready — a shrill yell coming from your throat — before Jesse managed to hit them both accurately so their bodies dropped into the mud. His hand subconsciously came to your back as he ushered you through the gates behind Ellie and Dina.

“I’ve got you.” He spoke out when you fumbled, his large hand quick to grab your waist to keep you afloat. He repeated, “I’ve got you, c’mon.” He called to the front, “The park, we can lose them in there!”

The darkness of the park would be an advantage. The thick brush a camouflage met with the lack of light that seeped through the planted area. The W.L.F. soldiers were hot on your tail but as soon as the Jackson group passed the threshold into the park, their tracks stopped with quick yells to their team members that they don’t step foot in that territory.

Jesse had already left your side, his gun propped up to wage a war against a handful of soldiers but soon, lowered his weapon in confusion at their reluctance.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Ellie whispered.

“Great. More infected.” Dina added.

You were exhausted. The idea of an influx of additional infected wasn’t on the cards for you.

Jesse responded, “Maybe. We can’t go back that way—” He looked through you, “Come on.”

Jesse scoped the foliage with his gun raised, Ellie and Dina followed directly behind and you just a little further back. He hadn't looked your way once, putting that down to the high alert you were all on from being chased down into the wooded area by the W.L.F.

Ellie was speaking incoherently to him, but you knew she was pleading her case of the original trio managing to handle the situation albeit a sticky one. As a matter of fact, if Jesse hadn't shown, you were sure Ellie would have succumb to a gruesome death, or turned. You had been astounded she had narrowly missed being bitten from the group of Infected.

"Does it look like I wanna fuckin' talk to you right now?" Jesse's voice snapped you into reality. His venom aimed at Ellie whilst his eyes locked onto you.

Please forgive me. You wavered in your step, mouth pulled into a pitiful frown at how your boyfriend was looking at you. He seemed to be seething from inside out, forehead slick with sweat, you swore you could see the prominent vein in his neck pulse from the adrenaline and pure unadulterated anger.

It would have to suffice for now. There were no amendments to be made in the middle of a Seattle park. The W.L.F. had surrounded the outskirts presumably, and your focus had to maintain on the survival rate of all four of you now. It was a little odd that they hadn't followed you in and taken you for the capture, outnumbered by a handful and enough weapons to pick off what Infected resided within the thick verdure.

As you continued forward with Ellie scolded from the reprimand Jesse had inflicted, you too were scoping the area for signs of Infected, and or, a safe exit concealed from the W.L.F.

"No, no, no!" Another voice made all four of you jump with immediate fright. The contrast of the silence compared to the shrill pleading made the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. He continued to plead and you soon calculated that he wasn't fighting a horde of Infected. Nobody pleaded their life from the dead.

The leaves of the bushes nearby glowed amber, all four breaths held from the sight of a gang holding burning wood, eyes all to the man they had tied up, a noose dropped around his neck and tightened.

“I know what Isaac is planning. I can help you.” He pleaded.

Your hand instinctively found Jesse's as you watched the Wolf yanked to where his bare feet couldn't touch the grounds beneath him. A bucket was kicked underneath him for balance, your heart in your mouth, a foreboding scene playing out in front of you. Jesse, too, alarmed by the scene, allowed himself to put his hurt aside, quick to comfort you with a soft squeeze.

His lips went to the curve of your ear, "Don't watch." Even he didn't know what was about to unfold, but he refused to allow you to suffer the nightmares to follow.

Eyes squeezed shut, your nose throbbed from the pressure, blood seeped from your nostril whilst you attempted to block out the outside noise. The muffled begging filtered through into your ears that you had stuffed with your index fingers to reduce the noise tenfold. Unable to resist, you peered an eye open to see the entrails dangling from the Wolf’s stomach to the tips of his feet. Mouth flung open, you looked to Jesse as a whistle cracked through the silence.

The sound of flesh being hit made all four of you look to where the noise landed.

An arrow embedded into Dina’s knee, the blood seeped from her jeans as panic laced through her shuddered breaths. You went to say her name, Jesse quick to clamp a hand round your mouth as he and Ellie began to talk on strategical escapes with minimal casualties within the group.

Ellie was immediate as she pounced into action to deter the group away from your spot, Jesse bundling Dina up into his arms as she threw her head back in agony. Hands met the wet dirt beneath you, you pushed off of it to race after Jesse and Dina. The sight of the deceased male hung in the trees etched into your vision, projectile vomit poured from your throat as you ran.

You wanted nothing more than to go back to Jackson.

[coraex]

first burn | tlou jesse pt. 2

pt. 1

summary: you made it to seattle after going against the council’s verdict on avenging joel miller

pairing: tlou!jesse x fem!reader.

word count: 2.6k

contents: violence, blood, death and description of corpses. pregnancy (not the reader), swearing, reader is consumed by guilt from every angle and minimal jesse — he’s not in this chapter which is a warning itself

a/n: pt 2!! this is literally a boring filler. there will be a pt. 3 after the finale and yk what happens 😤 again inaccuracies and i’m just doing my own thing for my plot just don’t look too hard into the theatre situation ;)

gif credit: @sobadbad

Seattle was in sight.

        You had left the scene of Jackson Hole, Wyoming, when the sun met the horizon. You kissed Jesse the fondest of farewells and thanked your lucky stars he hadn't stirred from the pressure of your lips against his. Surprisingly, there weren't any early morning dwellers loitering on your route to the gate that wasn't manned as often and you managed to slip through with ease; Zombie almost giving your position away as he hoofed the gate with rage as you pulled it open.

        Ellie, and Dina now, had made their exit at three in the morning. Your sleep was minimal, so you met them at the gate to bid them good luck — a smirk on your features as Dina stared you down to prevent any jokes that would come from your mouth about them sharing a horse.

        She hadn't explicitly told you. But you had your suspicions.

        It had been a relatively smooth ride from Jackson to Seattle, scenic with trees and sounds you of nature you wouldn't often hear in Jackson. For a moment, there was a stillness in your thoughts as you inhaled the fresher air as Zombie plodded along the dirt path.

        Then, you saw them.

        Paled, rigor mortis in effect as they laid amongst the fallen leaves with eyes open to the horrors they had endured. You clenched the reigns, not daring to leave the height of Zombie as you slowly passed a rotting corpse face down. Rifle slipped off of your shoulder, you held it close to your chest with your finger on the trigger in case of any surprises.

        It couldn't have been Ellie and Dina, you thought. Ellie had a violence about her, but they would've have been able to clear them outnumbered.

        It had been some time since you had encountered unfamiliar faces, your cushioned life within Jackson sometimes had you forgetting there was a whole world beyond the walls. Your brows furrowed, the clean scar on their face, it made you think what sort of history was behind them. Now, you wouldn't know, but there was a sense of uncertainty of why they were killed, left to rot in the open as flies picked at their flesh.

Your nose tucked into the crease of your elbow, the stench of death poisoned your senses as you kicked for Zombie to put some distance between you and the dead. The sign for the direction to Seattle embedded in wood, you wretched as you took the path, your eyes flitted over your shoulder to take one last impulsive look at the man face down in the dirt. They deserved a burial, whoever they were, but you were one only person. And you had an ulterior motive.

The sun had begun to dip, when you had arrived in Seattle.

        Skyscrapers above the skyline, collapsed buildings covered in nature that retook what humanity once stole from it. It looked like an idyllic utopia for someone with little knowledge as to what would unfold within the streets between Ellie, Dina, you and the W.L.F.

        You wouldn't rest until blood was shed in return for Joel Miller's brutal death.

        Zombie, the Appaloosa that you had eventually grown fond over, hoofed at the dried ground, muscles tensing from the flies that landed on his fur. You leant down and patted his neck, heels gently pressing into his sides to signal for him to walk on.

        It felt a little unnerving, entering Seattle under the light of the sun, not a single shed of protection aside from your gun. This was far from the patrols in Jackson, and until you found Ellie and Dina; you were riding this out on your own.

        You had experience. Trained by Jesse to build up stamina in a one-to-one combat if it ever came down to it. Stomach turning as you thought about his reaction to finding the little shack you lived in empty, a note of apology left on the table for him because he would ransack the Commune to find you.

        Maybe you'd have to fight him if he followed you to Seattle. You didn't doubt it.

        On high alert, Zombie walked through the city nonchalantly whilst you scanned each building for any sign of life — or death. You were sure that if the W.L.F. held Seattle, they would've cleared out as much infected as possible; leaving you an easy pathway if you didn't run into each other.

        Ellie and Dina promised to leave subtle breadcrumbs, hard to predict what path they would've taken in such a large city, but it was clear that kindred spirits think alike. A keen eye for trinkets, a small wooden sculpture of a lion, unfinished, sat upon a windowsill of a run down shop.

        It piqued your interest, Zombie's reigns pulled as you guided him toward it. Swinging your leg over, you jumped down from the height of the Appaloosa, eyes narrowed as you looked at the chicken scratch carved into the base the lion sat upon.

        STRENGTH. J.M.

        "That's a breadcrumb if I've ever seen one, Zomb." You mumbled and showed the horse the woodwork, his lips lifting to take it into his mouth before taking a step back — irritated it wasn't an apple. You rolled your eyes, hand in satchel and pulled an apple for him, "These are rationed whilst in Seattle. Pick your times to eat 'em."

        He took it with ease and you turned the lion in your hands, a sense of sadness cooly washed over from head to toe. It must've been one of Joel's unfinished projects that Ellie had snatched up. He had spoken briefly about his hobby to you whilst on a morning patrol, passionate about the skill and you seemed to take interest in his conversation.

        At one of the Potlucks, he brought an owl he had worked on to show you. You praised his talent and he genuinely smiled.

        And Jackson voted no for a man like Joel Miller.

        Quick to shove it into the space in your satchel, you peered into the shop's broken windows, to see it empty. You were sure if Dina and Ellie had resided there, you would've caught a glimpse of them by now.

        You'd have to keep your search going.

        Jumping back onto Zombie, you gathered the reigns in your hand and thumbed the strap of your gun over your shoulder. It was eerily quiet, nothing quite serene like the Jackson Commune where imminent threat would be met with a carefully executed plan with gunfire tenfold. At any given moment, your months of training would be used in a real world scenario and you could only have hope that your fight or flight chose fight.

        There were minimal breadcrumbs in sight, a light scatter of obvious signs that Ellie and Dina had passed through and you were certain that calling to them on the radio channel would stream an influx of W.L.F. in your direction. By time you reached a theatre that, if clear of infected or W.L.F, it would be a moderate resting place whilst the dark sky loomed overhead.

        "I know you hate confined spaces," You argued with Zombie as he pulled at the leather reigns in your hand, his body recoiled from the sight of you guiding him into a building. You huffed, teeth chattering from the cold rain, and when you pulled out an apple, the horse stopped pulling altogether. "Yeah. That's what I thought. Get inside, you greedy beast."

        Head poked through the door, you peered into a wide open space. You had entered to the back of the theatre, presuming it was the backstage of the building and the — once was — entertainment was further inside.

        Lightening hit close and illuminated the room from the blown out windows for a brief moment. Your skin crawled, no evident threat or silhouette exposed by the striking light outside, you slipped in with Zombie in tow. The horse chortled and you jumped, throwing a finger to your mouth as if it would comprehend the imminent threat brought by noise.

        Reigns dropped, you fed the apple to Zombie as a reward for his bravery to obedience before you slipped your gun from your holster, sweeping the area as you stepped through quietly. Heart stammered, you were quick to remind yourself of the attack on Jackson. The horde pulling the walls down, desperate to eliminate any human that crossed their path. You could remember the split of the face, the fungi that flourished from their heads, mouths ripping at the flesh of the unfortunate souls.

Your nightmares fuelled by the devastation they had left in their wake.

You took a moment to realise that Jesse would have eased your built up tension, hand to the back of your neck as he encouraged you to put your foot forward first. Take control of the situation. Because, in the end, he would have your back; something he promised when your lips connected, souls bound together between the bedsheets.

Lip wobbled, you initially felt silly. Sweeping a potentially threatened area whilst you blubbered over your boyfriend back in Jackson. You were — and always had been — a bigger definition than just your relationship to Jesse. However, it didn't stop the tears silently shed as you cleared the backrooms of the theatre. The fullness tears that brimmed your waterline soon shrivelled at the fright of muffled voices toward the front of the building.

Shit. You ducked as if they had sights on you.

If it were the W.L.F. it didn't matter what one-to-one combat skills you had earned over the months of endless training, you would be outnumbered and shot dead. Your head turned back to the door you had shuffled quietly through, thoughts of hiking back up on Zombie and making a quick escape before a bullet met the softness of your brain.

         In trepidation of your own death, your boots cemented into the plush of the blood red carpet, your eyes widened, forefinger holding the lightest of pressures against the trigger. You could definitely pick off one of the soldiers, if you were quicker than them.

        Their voices grew louder and there was a change in the thickened tension of the air that suffocated your lungs.

        It was fucking Ellie and Dina.

        You almost collapsed to your knees to thank the skies above for the turn of luck on your end. Gun holstered, excitement threaded in your veins, a smile — considering the circumstances  — broke out onto your face as you watched the silhouettes dance against the frosted windows on the doors.

        Cold hands went to push at the swing doors.

        "I think I'm pregnant."

        You gawked, your movements faltering.

        Dropped to the ground to hide yourself, you could make out Dina's muffled voice as you pressed your good hearing ear flush against the cold wood of the door that concealed you. Your forehead creased from your concern, you took a moment to digest her words.

"What?" Ellie sounded perplexed.

"Don't worry, it's not yours." Dina joked, the silence felt cold.

Realisation hit you as Ellie began to outwardly panic, her somewhat contained anger explicit toward Dina and her news. Back leant against the door, your ears rang at the conclusion you had equated: Dina was pregnant with Jesse's kid.

There was a morally grey area between the overlap of yours and Jesse's relationship and his and Dina's. It had been on the tip of your tongue whenever all three of you were in the same spot, to ask them what exactly they were because the nights spent at Jesse's became increasingly guilt ridden when you often stayed awake thinking about how Dina would lay in the exact same spot as you.

Of course, Jesse was quick to assure that his and Dina's flakey situation was over long before you had sealed the stamp on the commitment of your relationship. Dina showed no sign of alarm when Jesse kissed you in front of her for the first time — in fact she grinned. That didn't seem to wave a red flag in your direction, but now you weren't so sure.

Dina was pregnant.

You desperately gulped away the cotton feeling in your mouth, a hand swept down your face as you retained selective information — imagination running wild. It would simply have to be pushed to the back of your mind as you reunited with Ellie and Dina on your escapade. After all, if it hadn't been for your eavesdropping, you may have never found out.

Door opened, Dina jumped from the couch and cocked her gun in your direction. Luckily, the trigger wasn't pulled with your hands up in a meek surrender. Angsty, Dina squeezed her eyes shut momentarily before attempting a rather feeble smile.

You were sure you were the last person she wanted to see right now.

"Hey." She let out a hearty sigh, her eyes drifting to where Ellie had stormed off and then back to you.

Impulsive, but you flickered your gaze to her stomach that she held subconsciously, it was brief and you thought she may have caught it but her face showed otherwise. Comedic timing wouldn't work in your favour with the tension so palpable in the air. Offering a sarcastic congratulatory hug could be viewed as tone deaf.

Dina was still a valued friend. You just weren't sure if she was fucking your boyfriend on their joined Patrol days.

"Where is Ellie?" You feigned naivety.

"Oh—She went to secure this place. . . Have you been here this whole time?" Yes. You shook your head along to your lie, and Dina looked as if she could've jumped to the skies from relief. She added, "I'm glad you're here."

"Me too." You swung your rucksack off of your shoulder and dropped it to the ground, "I heard some commotion close by. I wasn't sure if it was between the W.L.F. and the others, or if it were you two. Although, they're pretty open on their radio channels, so, it was easy to figure out."

Dina laughed softly, "Yeah—"

You spared her a look, "Is everything OK, Dina?" She jumped at your question, as if you had pointed the barrel of your gun at her chest. It was quick to vanish from her face as she swallowed the hardened lump in her throat with a hesitant nod. You wouldn't prod, but you added, "Alright. You can speak to me, if you need to. This mission isn't lighthearted. It will take its toll."

        Dina looked as if she had mulled a debate over in her head against herself. You were relatively talented at picking up on body language, fast enough to watch her fingernails pin into the flesh of her palm; knuckles white from withholding herself and her secret.

        Her lips quivered and the atmosphere changed. Oh. She was really going to tell you.

        "Dina—!" Ellie's familiar tone snapped through the air and you watched as Dina recoiled from opening up. Feet thundered, the brunette came into view, green eyes met yours as she heaved a breath, "Holy shit. How the fuck did you get here?"

        "Through one of the entrances at the back." You shrugged.

        Hands placed on her hips, Ellie nodded, "Fuck—I seen Zombie and thought the worst. He tried to fucking bite me, by the way."

        You threw a peanut you had saved from a food pack into your mouth, "What can I say? He craves human flesh. Are you OK?"

        "Huh?" Ellie furrowed her brow, "Oh—Yeah." She glanced at Dina, "Peachy. We're setting up shop here tonight, gather some intel and then head out when we know the basis of our next moves to find Abby. Or at least one of them."

Abby.

You hadn’t heard the name of one of Joel’s killers until that moment and Ellie picked up on your change in expression.

“I’ll explain everything to you.”

taglist:

@beelee-cotton @lostbee20 @pupupwa @ilovetoomanymen - tysm for reading!

[coraex]

first burn | tlou jesse pt. 1

read pt. 2 & pt. 3 summary: you go against the council’s verdict on avenging joel miller

pairing: tlou!jesse x fem!reader from don’t be tardy!

word count: 3.5k

trigger warnings: angst. swearing, kissing, character death, loss, reader suffers from survivors guilt thinking joel’s death was random, violence, blood.

a/n: not proofread! oh shit. here we go again! i enjoy writing for jesse rn hehe. this is sort of in sequence with don’t be tardy but it can be a stand alone as well tbh. following the show just cause i feel like it lmao xo

gif credit: @pedgito

Joel Miller was dead. 

It seemed that Jesse had been accurate in his mild threat about the two more warnings in tow if you were late to patrol again. He was just as serious as Maria Miller when she brought you in, Tommy Miller sat shoulder to shoulder with her as she listed your flaws back to you in black and white. Tardiness didn't slide with the Jackson Commune and you were quick to be reminded when Maria Miller stripped you of your right to the morning patrol and every patrol there after.

The patrol that Joel Miller willingly took your spot from you.

You had meant to be out on horseback with either Dina or Jesse, or even Ellie if she hadn't selected one of the two. There had been a resurge in the Infected, numbers climbing at an alarming rate that was perceived as a threat for the Jackson Community.

It was meant to be you, but you had been delegated and in turn, had to sit through a meeting of the town to raise the red flag in the unlikely chances that the walls of haven Jackson would be breached and those fit for a fight would see it through.

Little time to mope over your reprimand by Maria Miller, the horde came as if Jackson were their home. The bells rang and shouts were heard from above whilst you were knee deep in shovelling manure for the crops. There was little preparation internally, as you hadn't believed such an outrageous idea to come true before your eyes, but the Infected soon showed you that Tommy Miller's forewarning rang true.

A gun shoved into your chest, you found a space above ground where you could pick them off.

It was a valiant fight, the Main Street of Jackson in ruins, a parade of dead littered the length of it — some of it your own people and others that had shredded the wall as if it were paper thin.

After providing what help you could to restore the dignity of the town residents by wrapping them in the linen cloth provided by the medical clinic, you had returned to your house to wash the scent of death off of your skin. A rifle left by the shower, you scrubbed at yourself until you were raw, tears brimming your eyes once the adrenaline of the fight against the dead had relinquished. You couldn't bear to close your eyes when the low pressured shower ran its meagre water over your face; scared to leave yourself vulnerable for the taking.

And then, Jesse came.

You had just turned the faucet off, when he crept in, boots surprisingly quiet but you supposed that was something he was good at. You had jumped with a squeal, hands flying to your rifle — Jesse getting to it before you could blow his brains out — your heart beating tenfold. There was no hint of sarcastic humour in the air, and you believed that to be due to his findings on the attack whilst he was on Patrol. And then, he told you about Joel Miller.

Sitting on it for awhile, you took what you could of the information and attempted to digest it. It would get lodged in your throat, eyes wide as you stared at your wall whilst Jesse took his turn to scrub his hands raw of Joel's blood.

        It could have been you.

       A senseless murder, a torturous one from Jesse's description to what he found at the abandoned Mansion. He had to pry Ellie Williams off Joel's body long enough to be able to wrap him up; no easy feat when a girl had just lost, essentially her father.

        You blinked at the wall. If you had left for Patrol with Dina, that would have been you.

That thought remained at the back of your mind, a persistent niggle that etched so deep within the crevices of your brain, that it consumed you whole for three months. It clawed it's way to the forefront of your mind when you attended Joel's funeral — with the profound absence of Ellie — and as you watched the dirt scatter across his casket, there was an unquenchable thirst to make things right. That you wouldn’t rest until you had embedded at least one bullet in his killer's heads, as he was a man that was there at the wrong place at the wrong time.

Because of you.

You had managed to avoid therapy over it, your mask plausible enough that Gail Lynden had passed you with flying colours because, in theory, you weren't there to suffer from the trauma; or that's what she had discussed over a weak cup of tea and biscuits.

That didn’t mean that it wasn’t there. You were just better at hiding it than others.

Like Ellie.

After she had returned to the Jackson society, there was a newfound sense of anger you saw in her as she casually walked through Main Street on a mission. You thought about greeting her, maybe pushing for an awkward hug, but then you saw her face and knew best to steer clear until she came to you.

There wasn’t the closeness between the pair of you compared to her friendships with Jesse and Dina, however, you knew that you offered a refresher in unbiased opinions, often validating how she felt when the others attempted to stomp out her fire for the sake of peace.

“She’s brought an offer to the Council.” Jesse mumbled in the dark after you saw Ellie storming about that morning. You peeled your eyes open from the sleep that just evaded you and Jesse sighed, “She wants to go to Seattle — where those people who killed Joel are stationed — and, well, avenge him.”

Oh. That piqued your interest.

You turned to face Jesse, his hand absentmindedly trailing his fingers across your bicep to raise goosebumps from his touch.

“That. . . Would be good. Right?” You tested the waters, “They deserve it.”

Jesse remained silent — like he was listening to your heart pick up in its beating — before he continued, “Not everything needs to be followed up with violence. Joel is gone, I don’t think killing them will bring the peace Ellie thinks it will.”

“Hm.” You responded blankly.

“The Council Meeting will be held tomorrow. I gave her some advice tonight and I hope she doesn’t go rogue.” Jesse closed his eyes, “That would definitely turn the vote against her.”

You turned on your back as Jesse’s soft snores told you he fell asleep on the thought. Forefinger tapping against your stomach as you processed the information Jesse had just given you. This was the first you were hearing of a base where you could locate the killers, sometimes dating Jesse came with further perks such as releasing privy council information prior to the rest of Jackson knowing.

Head splitting from adrenaline, you found it hard to raise the sleep pressure up enough to fall back asleep.

This was the opportunity you had been waiting on.

—

        "The council voted no." Jesse stated firmly.

        You followed him, "Jesse—I know you love rules and regulations. But, this is about Joel. That's practically Ellie's dad, you saw what they did to him." The image haunted him, actually. "They deserve the violence Ellie has for them. He was like an uncle to you—"

        Jesse flipped round, "—Don't tell me what Joel was to me. I looked up to him, but I won't go against the council verdict."

        The pair of you stared each other down. A blip of regret shone in your eyes for overstepping the personal subject with Jesse. It mattered to you just as much as it mattered to him, even when your closeness with Joel Miller extended as much as brief conversations and checkovers to make sure you were OK after Patrol.

        There was a sense of disdain in the air after the town had gathered to debate on sending a handful of subjects to Seattle to claim back Joel Miller's dignity from the hands that defiled that with an obscene torture. Ellie had spoken concisely, her thoughts scattered on wrinkled paper to ensure her love for Joel was clear enough without being clouded with anger.

        Once the outcome of the Council vote was a strong no, two yes votes against it, Jesse's eyes went to you when you shook your head with disappointment.

        Joel Miller was part of the community they had so desperately built to be safe in.

        People from the outside were changing that.

        Now, you were following Jesse like a lost dog, an attempt at convincing him to throw caution to the wind and pack up for Seattle anyway. Ellie was doing it, with or without Jackson's permission, that of it you were sure.

        "Can you at least just think about it?" You pushed the boat out to him one more time and it returned with a roll of the eyes and a huff. "OK. I won't bring it up again. Beating a dead horse."

        Jesse pulled his lips into a thin line, bending to press a kiss to your lips that spoke as a silent apology. An olive branch to say he wasn't mad, but this was the only way. He cared for Joel Miller, but, if the Jackson Commune saw fit to stay put and not create a war between those who tortured him to death; then he had his hands tied.

Accepting the kiss, a little deflated which Jesse picked up on, you smiled meekly. Don't worry, I still love you, the smile said to wash his insecurities away.

"I'm going to the Mess Hall for lunch. Are you coming?" Jesse placed his hand against your neck, thumb under your jawline. You nodded, a soft smile on his face as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders, "C'mon."

You were in line next to Jesse, trays slid across the countertop as you craned your neck to see food offered up as the afternoon menu. The produce was dire, a collective of sodden vegetables and dried out chicken. Though, you shouldn't complain, you were safe and relatively happy. The mildly grim lunch serving would be forgiven.

The Mess Hall was busy after the Council Meeting, a lot of residents sat talking of the very topic over their meals. Your eyes scanned the room whilst you waited for Jesse to spoon some food onto your plate. Ellie was at the opposite side, crestfallen and shoulders hunched as she stabbed the broccoli on her plate.

Whatever relationship Ellie and Joel had toward the end of his life was haunting that kid. You could see it, the way the corners of her mouth were downward, eyes glazed over when she tried to maintain a tough composure. It made you feel sorry for her; not that you would verbalise that.

"Hey—" You looked to Jesse as he grabbed a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice for your tray. "Go find a seat. I'm going to speak to Ellie." You thumbed in her direction.

Jesse followed your gesture, his face contorting into concern, "Don't bring up Seattle."

"I won't." You lied, "I'm just going to talk."

"OK." You felt bad that Jesse believed such a little white lie that could grow arms and legs if poked enough. Both trays in his hand, he turned on his heel and sought out a bench for you both to sit at whilst you headed toward Ellie.

She lifted her head instinctively to the presence of another body close. Ellie wasn't entirely a welcoming character, but you had been acquainted enough that she trusted you, and liked you enough to let you sit and chat with her when you felt like it. You slid into the bench across from her, hands tucked beneath your backside as you both stared at her half-eaten food on the ceramic plate.

"I won't be kissing the chef for this lunch." Your joke landed flat but Ellie was polite enough to smile weakly. There was no time like the present, you supposed, "I have a feeling you're going to head to Seattle, with or without Jackson backing you."

Ellie scowled, "Jesse sent you to talk me down?"

"No. Actually—He doesn't think you'll do it alone. He has a lot of faith in the voting system and following orders." You shrugged, "Just me. I get it, you want to seek revenge for Joel and I'm sorry that the Council didn't believe in that."

"Yeah—Well, they're just scared."

You contemplated agreement, "Maybe. . . But, I do think you should go." This had Ellie stare at you, "Not on a whim. A thorough plan would help your cause, but that may take time—it's already been three months. I have enough medical aid for three days, a couple of food packs I kept after Patrol."

"Are you going to come with me?" Ellie straightened her posture. She liked what she was hearing from you.

Eyes glanced over your shoulder to see Jesse grimacing at the food pocketed in his cheek, he was people watching whilst he waited for you. Your heart clenched, an iron vice encasing it because you knew that your decision would be an ultimate betrayal for Jesse.

Your decision felt like a breakup.

"I may be a couple of hours behind." You informed, saturated in guilt. "Just leave breadcrumbs in Seattle, if you can."

Standing from the bench, Ellie and you shared a single nod of consensus to the plan, your leg lifting to step over the bench and make headway to Jesse. You falsely beamed at your boyfriend, palms clammy as you wiped them on your jeans — seeking refuge beneath his arm as he pulled you in.

Single kiss pressed to your temple, you stared over to Ellie who was staring right back at you. There was a sudden level of respect radiating from her, knowing the sacrifice you were willing to make to assist in avenging Joel Miller. Everybody was aware that Jesse softened around you, his sternness for routine slipped with time when it came to you.

You were about to leave a devastation in your wake. A relationship built on trust and deep affection withered away once Jesse notices your absence in the Jackson Commune.

—

        "What were you speaking to Ellie about?" Jesse's question came quick, as if he had been biting it back when you ate lunch. You had returned to the stables with him to wash the riding equestrian equipment.

         You hid your panic, "Oh—About the Council Meeting to be honest with you." You weren't lying, but you would alter the truth. "I just wanted to make sure she was OK after the verdict."

        "She's pissed, I know that." Jesse kissed his teeth, "I was a little worried that she'd storm out and just head for Seattle herself."

        "Could you blame her if she did?" If you could've bit your tongue off you would've. Albeit, too late, you still stared at Jesse, hoping he'd agree with your stance. "I mean, Joel meant a great deal to her—"

        Jesse interjected impatiently, "—We've already spoke about this."

        "Yeah, Jesse, I know. But—"

        "—But nothing." Jesse snapped, "Do you not trust the Council's guidance on this? It's a bad idea to head to Seattle just so we can score a tally against the people who killed Joel. We can leave it at that."

        You were getting irritated.

        "Jesse," You spoke firmly, "I'm allowed to have an opinion, just as much as you're allowed one."

        "Your opinion is encouraging the destruction that would follow if Ellie left for Seattle." Jesse was picking a route for this argument and sticking to it. "You listened to Maria after you fucked up your spot on Patrol, why can't you listen to me about this?"

        Silence was met between the ambient horse sounds. You stared at Jesse, a little stung by his choice of words and a little too stubborn to take it with a pinch of salt considering the heightened tensions. He didn't seem to falter in his facade, eyes not leaving yours as he continued to wipe down a saddle, your own sponge slamming into the pail of lukewarm water before storming out of the stables.

—

Later that night, a mere hours later, you had mulled over the bad taste that Jesse had left in your mouth. He had given a hard truth, but your pride was astounding in its presence that you refused to even attempt the walk of shame back to the stables to apologise for your half of the argument.

Plus, you had turn your full attention to devise a plan on getting to Seattle and reuniting with Ellie on her quest for retribution.

Headstrong on completing a logical route where the survival rate was high, you had mapped out your steps, equated out the rations to days spent away from Jackson, and limited you baggage to a rucksack and the clothes on your back. Similar to how the Jackson Patrolmen found you en route to their safe haven.

You had set aside your stash of food packs for Ellie, divided between you both but you'd snoop around the Mess Hall at dinner, for any leftovers you could salvage for the journey. Ellie had advised she would be leaving through the night for minimal disruption to her plan, and an invitation was handed your way which you politely declined.

        You wanted to say goodbye to Jesse.

        As you stuffed the remainder of the food packs for Ellie into your bag, your front door opened to reveal Jesse clad in a black button shirt and jeans, and a face of that screamed timid grovelling.

        He loved you so deeply that he was known to swallow his own pride, reflect on his words, and be the first to step over the line to apologise whenever you argued. Regardless of his opinion, he knew you were too obstinate to be the first to break the tension. He balanced you out, just as you did with him.

        Bag zipped nonchalantly to hide any urgency to hide the food packs, you folded your arms, bag kicked by your heel under the bench as you stared at him in your doorway.

        Jesse smiled, "Put your bottom lip away."

        You raised your brows.

        "It was a joke. Are we not in joke territory right now?" Jesse raised his hands a little to imitate a minor surrender as he stepped toward you, "I can be serious. Let me see—" He peeled your arms away from your chest, taking your softer hands in his and pulled them around his waist before peppering your face with kisses, "—I'm sorry for being a jackass."

        "You weren't being a jackass." You mumbled as he squashed your cheeks together, pressing a kiss to your pouted lips, "You were right about me fucking up Patrol."

        Jesse nodded, "Yes, I was." He kissed softly you again, "But, I didn't need to bring it up."

        It made you feel sad. The pit in your stomach flourishing as he tenderly tended to you, each kiss a reminder that you would be the one to break his heart, and if you made it back to Jackson alive, you would have to live everyday with that regret as you knew your relationship would be dead the moment you left the walls that brought such security.

        That's if they ever let you back in.

Selfishly, you chose to indulge in the moment with Jesse. There had been an idea, a small faint scheme that preyed on the argument in the stables, adding fuel to the fire to make it billow above the tree lines. It would've made it an easier hurdle to get over when you turned your back on Jackson, but his attentiveness had seized you from head to toe.

Leant into his touch, you let Jesse kiss down your neck to his favourite spot, your collarbone, where he nipped at it. You scoffed in turn and shoved him gently, not able to keep your own smile of forgiveness at bay.

You hoped he would do the same.

"Is everything OK?" Jesse could work out your head better than you. You hated it sometimes.

As he reached to smooth the furrow of your brows, you replied, "Yeah. I'm just tired."

"Let's go to bed then." Jesse walked past you confidently and headed toward your bedroom, halting when he didn't feel your presence behind him. You wiped at the quick tears that had fallen before he turned, replacing them with a false smile which Jesse noticed but didn't comment. He'd ask in the morning. Holding out the palm of his hand to you, he spoke, "You coming, or do I have to drag you?"

"I think you might have to drag me." You joked, the lump in your throat sizeable but you managed to swallow it.

Two strides, Jesse had made it back to you and threw you over his shoulder with ease, his hand coming to your backside for a teasing smack as you laughed genuinely.

Seattle would be your downfall.

[coraex]

only Ezra Bridger could and would come up to you holding a SITH HOLOCRON full of TERRIBLE and EVIL sith knowledge looking like a proud PUPPY DOG 🔺💥🐶😊

[coraex]

just take him

i can’t help but see the double meaning in ellie’s words. i feel like it’s probably obvious. literally, she’s telling abby to take lev.

but she also has flashbacks to joel right before she lets go of abby and stops drowning her. him playing the guitar on the porch. the last time she saw him before watching him die.

so when she says “just take him”, i also hear “just take joel”. she’s done fighting, she’s done with this whole revenge plot, she knows that killing abby isn’t going to bring joel back, she’s known it the whole time but she’s hit rock bottom now.

just take him. he’s gone and he isn’t coming back. you won.

[coraex]

SABRINA CARPENTER via TikTok (September 12, 2024)

[coraex]

SABRINA CARPENTER 67th Annual Grammy Awards

[coraex]

SABRINA CARPENTER SNL 50 Closing

[coraex]

SABRINA CARPENTER for Prada Beauty

[coraex]

Afficher davantage

[coraex]

Up too early | Robbie Reyes x GN!Reader | fluff

"Morning, Robbie." You grin from behind your coffee mug, watching the drowsy male walk through the kitchen of his house. "Mhm." He just groans in response. He drags himself to sit in the other chair facing you and then lays his head down in his arms on the table.

"Did you go ghost too hard last night?" "Yeah..." He says lowly, not bothering to complain about the name you've adopted when he went out with the Rider.

"Oh, my poor baby. At what time did you get back home?" "Uh, around 4..." "Oh, pretty early-" "AM." Your eyes at his words. She looks back at the kitchen clock: 7 AM. "Hell no, you're going back to bed." "Can't. I'm already awake." he says as he sits up and stretches out. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"Excuse me? No. You're heading back to bed. Come on." You say as you stand up and plant yourself in front of his seat. You stretch your arms out, silently coaxing him to come with you. Robbie looks you up and down but obliges. He walks reluctantly to his bedroom and lies on his bed.

Despite his small protests of not being able to fall back asleep, he can feel his eyelids falling closed. He just snuggles closer to his pillow, letting himself sink into the mattress, and letting the sheets protect him from the slight breeze.

You smile fondly at the sight of your boyfriend being all drowsy and sleepy, looking at his calm and sated state. You turn the a/c back on and whisper lovingly, "Sleep tight, hothead." before closing the door to the bedroom behind you.

[coraex]

Safe With Me

Pairing: Robbie Reyes x f!reader

Word Count: 10,700+ (you voted and wanted a longer one shot!)

Rating: Mature - 18+ ONLY!

Warnings: Just like ao3, “creator chooses not to use warnings.” If you click Keep Reading, that means you agree that you’re the age to handle mature themes. Also by clicking Keep Reading, you understand warnings may not be complete in order to avoid spoilers for the story. 

Notes: Listen, I have it bad for Gabriel Luna. Bad. As in no coming back. And I saw some gifs of him as Robbie (the first role I saw him in), I've been rewatching his episodes of Agents of Shield, and I had to write something. Thanks to @mermaidxatxheart for giving me an idea that, in typical me fashion, went completely off the rail and became an actual story and not just smut. 

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**Reader is not described

Main Masterlist

Robbie Reyes Masterlist

Bold Italics are the Rider internally speaking to Robbie

Robbie never thought he’d be here, a driver to some rich guy’s daughter. He could feel the Rider, how beneath him the Rider felt that playing chauffeur was. But it was because of the Rider that Robbie was here, trying to get solid information on her dad, to prove he was the secret bad guy…and to bring vengeance.

When he agreed to be a driver for the family, he thought he’d be driving around the man himself, but when his daughter stepped out of the house, Robbie’s eyes went wide and he was momentarily speechless. He hadn’t seen anyone this gorgeous in…well, ever. She walked with confidence to the car and when he tried to open the door for her, she gave him a small smile and stepped around him, eyes roaming over the car. 

“1969 Dodge Charger…you’ve made some modifications?” 

She knows about cars? 

When he doesn’t answer right away, she stops, hand hovering over the hood and looks up at him, her eyebrows raised as she waits for an answer.

“Yeah, uh..yes.”

She nods, glancing back down at the flawless finish. “May I?”

Robbie never lets anyone touch his car. No one. 

“Don’t scratch her.”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

Her fingers lightly brush against the black paint, the car seemingly humming under her touch. Robbie shifts where he stands, like he can almost feel her fingers brush against his own skin. 

“She’s remarkable. And you’re sure you’re fine with driving me around in her?” Her eyes meet his again and he swallows hard. He'd thought the request to be driven in a car like his was odd, but he assumed Mr. Rich Asshole was a car guy. He never anticipated that it was his daughter. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

She shifts a little, smiling as she glances back down at the car before moving around it to get inside the door Robbie had opened. She pauses before sitting and looks at him, so close he swears he can feel her breath on his face.

“If you change your mind, let me know. I’d hate to put this car in any danger.”

Robbie chuckles to himself as he closes the door behind her. If only she knew how much danger his car got into on a weekly basis.

Over the next few weeks, he takes her various places on a pretty consistent schedule, mostly shopping, occasionally meeting up with some friends, a random night club or two. Robbie finds her fascinating. He assumed that she would be pompous, like most rich people, that she would look down on others and treat them like shit. But she doesn’t. And the more he watches her, the more he sees how her smiles to her friends don’t reach her eyes, how she never wears the clothes she buys, the little sigh that escapes her lips before she steps out and into the club, her dress just barely covering her.  

One day, Robbie was elbow deep in a broken engine when his phone rang, the one that he used only for his chauffeur job. He wipes his hands on his coveralls and pulls the phone out, surprised to see her name lighting up the screen. She never needs him on Mondays.

“This is Robbie.”

“Hi, Mr. Reyes. I’m sorry to call you on your day off, but..would you be willing to take me into town?”

He looks back at the engine, disassembled, pieces scattered all around, and she takes his hesitance as a no.

“You know what? I’m sorry, Mr. Reyes. I shouldn’t ask you on your day off. I..I’ll just-”

“No, no. It’s ok. I can come get you. Are you at home?”

“Yeah. When can you get here?”

Robbie glances up at the clock on the wall. “45 minutes?”

She’s quiet for a moment. “Ok. I’ll see you then.”

Robbie stares at the phone for a moment before cleaning up and changing, wiping the grease from his face and hands. Why had she called? She seemed a little off. 

He got there in 20 minutes with a little help from the Rider.

When he pulls up, she’s there, walking quickly to his car. Robbie jumps out and starts to walk around to get her door but she waves him off. “It’s ok. I got it.” He nods, watching her walk to the car, hunched in on herself, arms crossed and hiding behind sunglasses. She gets in and closes the door, buckling her seat belt. 

“Where to?”

“I don’t care, just drive.”

Robbie starts up the car, revving the engine a little because he knew she liked that. The corner of her mouth ticks up slightly into the beginning of a smile and he relaxes slightly, still worried about her. 

“My dad hates that sound.”

It’s the first time she’s mentioned her dad, has said anything to him outside of polite conversation and chats about the car. 

“I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

She reaches out and touches his arm, lightly squeezing him. “No, please don’t stop.” Robbie stops the car as the gates open slowly and he turns to look at her, trying to see through her sunglasses. 

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Neva.”

Robbie’s eyebrows pinch together. “Neva?”

She nods, taking a breath. “It’s what my nanny called me. She was Russian. She said it meant snowy, or something like that. I was born during a bad snowstorm,” She clarifies and Robbie nods. Neva removes her hand from his arm and starts to pick at her nails, placing them in her lap. “She was the only one who really cared for me. No one else calls me that name. Probably because nobody cares.”

Robbie is speechless. He has no idea what to say, but he wants her to know that she can open up to him. Maybe she’ll tell him more about her dad, but it’s more than that now. It’s…wait, does he care about her?

“I’m sorry you have shitty parents.”

She laughs then, her head tilting back with the force of it, and Robbie vows to make her laugh as often as he can. As her laughter fades, she takes off her glasses and wipes at her eyes with the back of her hand. 

“You’re a riot, Mr. Reyes. Thanks for making me laugh.”

He smiles at her. “Is…is there anything I can do for you?”

She stares at him a long time and he hopes she can’t see the warmth in his cheeks that was definitely not from the Rider. 

“I doubt you can help, but thank you.”

“Are you sure? I’m pretty resourceful.”

She smiles sadly. “I doubt any of your resources could change who my father is.” Robbie opens his mouth to respond when she shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything. You don’t want to hear about my problems… so, do you have a sister or brother or girlfriend or…or someone?”

He studies her for a moment, amazed at how she instantly schooled her demeanor into a completely different emotion, as if whatever the shit was with her dad never happened. 

“I have a brother.”

“Just a brother? No girlfriend? Sister! I meant sister.”

He glances away from her, hiding his smirk at her slip up by pretending to look out the window before he turns. “Nah, just Gabe.”

“Gabe. How old is he?”

“High school.”

“Ah. The fun years, or whatever everyone says.”

“What, you didn’t like high school?”

She shakes her head. “Hated it. Everyone was so fake and I just didn’t fit in. Ok, well I mean I made friends but not anyone I’d actually consider a real friend. Just kids of people my dad has connections with or wants connections with.”

“Your dad would use you for that?”

She grows quiet, staring out of the window. “He does.”

Robbie stops at the red light and angles his body towards her. “Hey, you sure you’re ok-”

“Does Gabe need anything for school?”

Robbie stares at her, her eyes pleading for him to take the change of subject. He’d follow her lead this time, but he tucks that information about her dad in the back of his mind. Something wasn’t sitting right with him about it. 

“Don’t worry about it. We’re good.”

“That’s not what I asked. Is there something he’s into?”

“He used to be really into soccer before…”

“Before?”

Robbie took a deep breath. “Before the accident…Now he’s in a wheelchair.”

She squeezes his arm again and it makes his whole body feel like a livewire. “I’m so sorry to hear that, Mr. Reyes. Do you guys need anything? What about any medical bills?”

“We’re fine, thanks.”

She takes her hand away like he had slapped her. “I’m just trying to help.”

He stops at another red light, putting on his turn signal. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just…everyone always wants to pity us. But we’re doing fine.”

“I never said you weren’t. I just..have the means to help. If you’ll let me?”

“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“Good thing you didn’t then. Now, what sorts of clothes does he like?”

Robbie could tell she was being genuine, not like most people with money who fake it just to use it as a tax write off or a photo op. So they spend the next several minutes talking about Gabe, Robbie telling her some fun stories from their youth as she directs him to a shopping district. He pulls up to an empty spot and parks, getting out of the car and opening Neva’s door. She gets out and smoothes down her pants as Robbie starts to head back to the driver’s seat. 

“Where are you going?”

“I’m going to wait for you like I always do.”

“Oh no. You’re coming with me.” She links her arm through his and Robbie tries to slow down his beating heart, certain that she can hear it through his chest. “I need you, Mr. Reyes.”

“Yeah?” Shit, he shouldn’t have let that slip out. She didn’t mean she needed him, but she needed his opinion. 

She squeezes his arm with hers in response, turning her head to look at him, her face inches from his. He swallows hard as his eyes switch between hers, his heartbeat pounding loudly in his ears. Her eyes flick down to his lips, his breath catching in his throat as she leans towards him ever so slightly.

“Ah, mademoiselle!” The store owner had come outside, no doubt spotting Neva, who frequents his shop. Robbie’s blood boils at the interruption but perhaps it was for the best. He’d almost forgotten that the reason he’s even driving her around is to get more information on her dad. 

“Alexandre. How nice to see you.”

Alexandre leans in to kiss her cheek and Robbie feels her grip on his arm tighten slightly. 

“What brings you in today?”

“I need some gifts for a friend of mine.” Neva launches into a description of Gabe that is so spot on for not ever meeting him or seeing a picture of him that Robbie is taken aback. Once inside, Robbie tries to extricate himself from her but she holds on tight, pulling him to some racks of clothes that Alexandre was pointing out, pulling things from the racks and tossing them at another clerk, who was frantically trying to hold everything. Once they had it all laid out, Neva turns to Robbie, gesturing at the clothes all nicely folded. 

“How’s this? Is there anything he wouldn’t like?”

He can feel Alexandre’s eyes on him, like he knows he doesn’t belong in her world, like Robbie doesn’t already know that. He shakes his head. “I can’t take this.”

“Oh. Is it the wrong size? Or color?”

“No, it’s just…it’s too much.”

“Oh. Does he need another dresser?”

“No that’s not-”

“Mr. Reyes, you told me it was his birthday and I’m insisting on buying him some things. He’s been working hard in school and deserves a reward for all of his hard work. Now, is there anything else he needs?”

Her eyebrows are raised in question: why did she say it was Gabe's birthday? He doesn’t have time to think about that and he knows she won’t accept him declining her offer. “No. No this is more than enough.”

She smiles at him, one that reaches her eyes. “Good. Alexandre?” He’s there in an instant. “Ring me up. Charge my father’s card.”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

She takes him to lunch next, insisting that she pays as this was supposed to be his day off. They go to some fancy restaurant with food that Robbie can’t pronounce, with portions that are way too small for the price, but they tasted great. Not homemade meals from his abuela great, but not bad. 

He pulls up to the front of the house, putting the car in park before grabbing the handle, when Neva touches his arm again. 

“Thank you for today, Mr. Reyes.”

He hesitates a moment before placing his gloved hand over hers, meeting her gaze. “You can call me anytime, Neva.” She smiles at him, squeezing his arm before turning, allowing Robbie time to open her door just in case her dad was watching. He can still feel her hand on his arm, how it felt to link her arm in his, how her laugh sounded, the way he made her smile, like it was only for him. 

Damn, Robbie. You got it bad.

—----

“How did you find this?” Robbie stares at the car part in the box he’s holding in disbelief. “I’ve been looking for this for years!”

Neva smiles and waves her hand nonchalantly. “I know a guy.”

“No, you don’t understand. This is impossible to find.”

“Obvioulsy not as you’re holding it.”

Robbie looks up at her, a smile sliding into place. “I don’t..this is too much, I..”

Neva pretends to gasp, placing her hand on her chest. “Was I just graced a smile from Mr. Reyes?” Robbie can almost feel his ears turning pink, a little extra heat in his cheeks and looks back down into the box. Neva leans in a little closer to him. “I’ll have to do this more often if it means I get to see that smile.”

Robbie looks up, his eyes meeting hers. She’s close to him now. If he just leaned in a little further, he could press his lips to hers, feel how soft they -

“Do you want to put it in now?” Her eyebrows raise, but not before she glances down at his lips again. 

“What?”

Neva nods her head towards the box. “The part.”

Robbie shakes his head, pushing aside the images of pressing her against the side of the car, her leg wrapping around him as they embrace. “Uh…yeah. But after work-”

“I have nothing to do today. Can we go now? I’d love to watch you install it. If that’s ok with you?”

I’d let you do whatever you want.

Robbie tries to hold back the smile he feels coming on, but he can’t. “Hell yeah. Oh, I mean-”

Neva waves her hand. “I don’t give a fuck about bad language. Also, that’s two smiles I got from you. I’m definitely spoiling you more often.”

Robbie pulls into Canelo’s Auto and Body, driving up to one of the empty bays. He hops out and starts looking for tools, gathering what he needs. 

“Are you allowed to do that?” 

Robbie turns to see Neva standing outside of the car, watching him open and close toolboxes. He realizes then that he’s never mentioned also being a mechanic.

“Yeah. I work here too.”

Her eyes go wide and she nods. “That actually makes so much sense now!”

“What does?”

She gestures around. “The cars. How you’re able to keep her-” she points to the Charger “-so pristine.”

“Yeah. It’s a good place. Owned by good people. I don’t know where we’d be without them,” Robbie returns to the drawers, finding the last tool he needed and closes the drawer. When he turns back around, he freezes, watching Neva remove her outershirt, standing there in a skin tight camisole that hugs her in all the right ways, framing her chest perfectly as she pulls her hair back off of her face. Once her hair is secured, she pats her head a little, making sure she didn’t forget any loose strands. She jumps a little when she sees Robbie staring.

“Sorry! It’s just hot out and-am I making you uncomfortable?”

“What? Uh no. No, you’re, uh..fine.”

Her smile makes his body tingle and he has a short, internal conversation with the Rider, telling him to calm his shit. Robbie sets up his tools, putting the car up on jacks. When he finally lifts the hood, he hears a soft moan from Neva as she steps around, her eyes fixed on the engine. 

“Did you do all this work yourself?” She asks, standing so close to him that their arms lightly brush against each other and Robbie desperately wishes he wasn’t wearing sleeves.

“Y-yeah. I had to rebuild her, basically. The car was my uncle’s but he doesn’t need it now.”

She glances up at him. "I'm sorry for your loss."

Robbie chuckles. "Don't be. He's in prison."

"Oh,” She looks down, nervous, at a loss for words. “…well I'm not sure how to respond to that. I'm sorry?" She lifts her head and he can feel her eyes on him. 

Robbie turns his head slightly to look at her. "It is what it is." He wasn't about to go into his personal business with her. Not when she's standing so close, smelling like her shampoo of strawberries and coconut. He can’t help it, his eyes flicking down to her soft lips, dragging back up her face to see hers tracing a similar path on his own. He brings a hand to her face, gently cradling her cheek as he slowly leans towards her, feeling her fingers lightly tug at his shirt to pull him closer. Her eyes close-

“Robbie! I didn’t expect to see yo- oh.”

Robbie and Neva spring apart as a man in coveralls walks in, rubbing a dirty oil rag across his matching hands. 

“Hey Canelo. I just came in to install this piece.” Robbie gestures towards the box and Canelo glances inside, whistling in awe.

“Holy shit. Where did you find it?”

“I didn’t. She did.” Robbie nods his head towards Neva, who shrugs.

Canelo looks between them both, a smile tugging at his lips. “Robbie, do you really think your date wants to see you work on a car?”

“Oh we’re not-”

“We aren’t-”, they both speak at the same time and Canelo chuckles. 

“Actually, I asked him to bring me. I love this car.” Canelo looks at Neva in surprise.

“Oh yeah?” He proceeds to give her a mini quiz, which she aces. 

“Robbie, don’t let this one go. She’s a keeper.”

“No, we’re not-”

Canelo waves his hand. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever you say.” He leaves, tossing you a wink before heading back into the office. Neva steps back from the car, giving Robbie space to work. He sighs, internally cursing his boss for interrupting that kiss. It would’ve been a kiss, right?

When he drops her off later, after taking the car for a much enjoyed ride, she touches his arm to stop him from getting out and opening her door. 

“I think we should talk about what happened. Or, almost happened.”

She regrets the kiss doesn’t she? Almost kiss? We are from different worlds. 

Robbie waves his hand, determined to get in front of this so he doesn’t show how her letting him down hurts. “It’s ok. Nothing happened so…”

Her face changes, a flash of disappointment before she expertly schools it. “Very well then. If that’s what you want. I’ll see you tomorrow, Mr. Reyes.” And she opens the door, closing it a little harder than normal behind her. Robbie watches her walk away, feeling like he fucked up big time.

That’s because you did fuck up.

—----

For the next few weeks, Neva is polite, a coolness settling over their interactions after his rejection. He didn’t want to reject her, he wanted to kiss her until she couldn’t breathe, begging him for more. But she was the one who was going to stop things so why should he feel guilty?

She didn’t tell you that, you idiot. You made it up.

She asks him to drive her to a party one night, offering to pay him extra since it was after his regular hours. He agreed, of course he agreed. He felt guilty and kept trying to talk to her, but couldn’t find the words.

Don’t forget why you’re really here.

When he pulls up she’s walking out of the house, a snug, black dress that rouches on the sides, a slit going up nearly to her hip, and a neckline that plunges, perfectly framing her chest. She has on black heels and clutches a small black purse that is more for looks than practicality. Suddenly, Robbie couldn’t breathe, watching her walk towards the car, the dress sliding across her skin but never revealing more than it should. She makes it halfway before the Rider snaps him out of it and he jumps out, walking quickly to the other side to open the door. She gets in the car without really looking at him, smoothing down her hair as he closes the door. When they start to drive off, she sighs, setting the small clutch in her lap and leaning her face against her fist as her elbow rests on the door. When the gate is opening, Robbie chances a look at her. She looks phenomenal, but her expression doesn’t match. Her color is a little off, the sparkle in her eyes not really there. 

“Are you ok?”

“Mmm?” Neva turns her head to look at him. 

“You don’t look good. I mean, y-you-you look..just…but I mean, your face doesn’t…” What the fuck dude?

Luckily for him, she smiles slightly, a small chuckle escaping her. “You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

His cheeks warm, his ears tinging a slight shade of pink as he stammers on. “I just… I meant that you don’t look into this.”

“This?”

“The party.”

She leans back on her fist. “Oh. Yeah. I’m not really.”

“Then why go?”

She sighs. “Because my dad commands I make an appearance.”

“You don’t have to go, you know.”

She doesn’t look at him, her eyes gazing off at a point in the distance. “I’ve been through worse. I can survive a party.”

He’s quiet for a moment. What did she mean she’s been through worse? “Well if you change your mind, you know how to find me.”

He drops her off, watching her walk into the building that’s crammed with people, loud music blaring and lights flashing everywhere. He drives around the corner, parking just off property so as not to interfere with the valet and waits. He had a feeling. And sure enough, about an hour later she texts him to come get her. They pull out of the drive up and he puts on his blinker at the next light. 

“How was the party?”

“Ugh. I couldn’t take it anymore. Everyone in this world is so damn fake. And they all seem to want my attention,” she huffs.

“Home then?”

“No way. Are you hungry, Mr. Reyes?”

“I could eat.”

She perks up, sitting a little straighter in her seat. “Great! Take me to your favorite place.”

Robbie chuckles. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”

“Well I like you so I’m sure I will.”

His stomach leaps into his throat. So he didn’t fuck everything up then. “It’s…not your type of place.”

She turns her head, her eyes studying him as he keeps his on the road. “Have you learned nothing about me, Mr. Reyes? Now drive.”

He smirks. “Yes, ma’am.”

He drives across town to his neighborhood, pulling up to park in front of a diner. Neva looks around. “This is it?”

“Told you you wouldn’t like it.”

“I didn’t say that. I’m just surprised your favorite is diner food.”

“And what would you know about diner food?”

“Oh ha-ha. I have eaten at a diner before.”

“Uh huh. How much did a burger cost?”

She punches his arm, fighting the smile that wants to come out. “Shut up.”

He opens the door for her, offering his arm when she goes to get out and she takes it, linking them together. 

“Ok so, this isn’t my favorite place. But that one is closed and this is my number 2.”

“You know how to make a girl feel special.”

“Hey, I don’t take just anyone to Bertha’s. They have the best burger in town.” He feels her hold him closer and at first he thinks it’s for the neighborhood, but one mental smack from the Rider and he sees that she’s cold. Taking off his formal jacket, he settles it across her shoulders and she cuddles into it. Robbie swears he sees her smelling it out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t say anything. 

As they eat, she opens up more, their flow settling back into how things were. Little flirtations, her hand brushing his, her foot accidentally bumping into his leg over and over, her moaning when she tries the burger. Ok, that last one was just the way Robbie heard it but it counted. In his head, anyway. On their way out, she notices the graffiti on the side of the building next door. She stops, pulling him back by their linked arms to look at it. 

“That’s the Ghost Rider,” Robbie explains.

“Who?”

He launches into a generic explanation about the local legend of The Ghost Rider, how he has a flaming skull for a head and seeks vengeance on those who have done wrong. 

“And by vengeance you mean he kills them?”

He stiffens slightly. “Yeah.”

“Hhmm…”

“Most people think he’s a murderer.”

“No. I like him. We need justice where there is none.”

Robbie is speechless. No one has ever looked at the Rider like that, at him like that. And she doesn’t even know they’re connected. 

I like her, Robbie. Hold onto this one.

You just like her because she said she liked you.

They finish making their way around the back of the diner to the car, and Robbie leans over to open the door for Neva when she pulls him, facing her back to the car. 

“Thank you so much for tonight. This is the most fun I’ve had since…well, probably ever.”

“Nah, it was my pleasure.”

She smiles at him, her eyes bright and inviting, making his skin prickle like a live wire. His body is growing warmer, and not from the Rider. She’s so close, her scent of strawberries and coconut filling his nose as she leans closer, her eyes darting down to his lips. He leans too and their foreheads meet, both of them breathing heavily as they stand there, the air around them crackling with tension. 

“Robbie,” she says it quietly, but it’s all he needs. 

Robbie’s hands come up to cup her cheeks, turning her head up to him as he presses his lips to hers, feeling her sigh, her body relaxing into him. He glides his tongue across her lips and she parts them instantly, silently begging him for more. His lips never leave hers as he puts a hand out, walking her backwards into the side of the car. Her fingers twist in his shirt, pulling him closer before she slides them around his broad back, trying to grip him anywhere she can. He drops his hand to the back of her knee and lifts it on his hip, her gasp breaking their kiss. He takes advantage of this, turning her head to the side and kissing the side of her neck, sucking on a spot just below her ear. She moans and Robbie gasps against her neck, feeling her skin pimple under his lips. 

But then she’s pushing him back and Robbie stumbles, his eyebrows furrowing together. Did he misread the situation? No, she wanted this as much as him… His brain goes fuzzy as he watches her walk around the car, gently setting her ass against the hood as she looks at him, her eyes wide and dark with want, her eyebrow arched, begging him to come closer. 

He’s there in less than 2 steps, hands cupping her face again as he brings his lips to hers, feeling warmth fan out from where they touch. His hands slide down her, taking in every curve of her body before he grips her ass, moaning slightly into her mouth before lifting her to set her on the hood of the car, her legs automatically opening and wrapping around him, trying to bring him closer. He leans her down, her back against the hood of the car as he continues to kiss her, lips soft and needy. Her fingers fumble at his belt line and he finally snaps out of it. Robbie pulls back and grips her wrist, looking down at her. 

“I…this is not…I don’t want our first time to be like this.” 

A smile crinkles up her eyes and Robbie feels it in his bones. “You’ve thought about us before? Our first time?”

“Oh, I think about you all the time, chica. I want the space and time to take you apart.”

She whimpers, his pants feeling a little tighter at the sound. “Fuck, Robbie. I want that too but right now, I don’t care about where we are. I want you. I need you.” Her eyebrows pinch up in question, fully leaving it up to him.

He smiles. “I can’t say no to you.”

He lays his body against hers, sliding his hand up her bare thigh while propping himself up with the other, his elbow leaning against the hood. He doesn’t kiss her, choosing to watch her expressions as his hand ghosts across her cool skin, disappearing under her mini dress. He ghosts his fingers across her underwear, chuckling when she jolts at his touch. Her fingers grip his forearms, nails trying to dig through the sleeve of his shirt as he draws light circles over her clothed cunt, her breathing coming out in ragged gasps. 

“Please,” she begs, voice barely above a whisper. Gently, he dips his finger under her pantyline, sliding it down her wet pussy, tracing light circles at her clit. “Oh!” She gasps, trying to hold back her sounds because they are in a parking lot. Robbie had completely forgotten their pretty public display. His hand stills and she huffs, her lip coming out in a pout. 

“Are you sure, chica? We’re pretty out here.”

“I don’t give a fuck. I need to feel you inside me, Robbbie,” She blinks up at him with a fire, not too different from the one he feels blazing behind his own gaze. “I won’t break.”

“Fuck, you’re gonna kill me, Neva.”

Robbie sits back, fingers deftly opening his belt and pants just enough to pull himself out, groaning as his hard cock springs free. His skin is warm and he swallows hard, trying to get himself to cool down a bit. But then he sees her, moving her panties aside for him and, while he can’t see too clearly due to the lack of proper light, he can see that she’s fucking gorgeous, somewhere he will have to explore when he has the space to. Lining himself up, he looks down at her and pushes in, clamping a hand over her mouth when she lets out a high pitched, loud, moan, and it’s all he can do to not join her as she envelopes him, her heat wrapping around him perfectly, like she had been waiting just for him. When he bottoms out he waits, hips joined close together as she catches her breath. She looks up at him, pleasure radiating out from just her gaze alone, a gives him a nod. He pulls his hips back and slowly slides in again, groaning at the feel of her as he slots his hips against hers. He adds in an extra deep thrust and she cries out, trying to swallow her own moans as Robbie hones in on that spot, thrusting deep and hard against her. Neva starts to slide up the hood of the car, her dress doing nothing to hold her in place. Her fingers grip his sleeves, trying desperately to find something to hold her in place as Robbie continues to thrust into her. 

He’s about to stop, give her a moment to grab something when her hand shoots out, gripping the raised engine of his Charger. Instantly his skin heats, feeling like he’s about to catch fire at the sight of her digging her fingers into the metal, her other hand gripping his as he pushes it to the side of her head, knuckles clanking against the dark metal. His body is tingling and he shakes his head to clear it when he feels her raise her legs higher, digging her heels into his ass and lower back, trying to get him deeper. 

He growls, pressing a hard kiss to her lips before pulling out, grabbing her ankles and sliding her down the hood, her gasp turning to whimpers as he grabs her hips and flips her, pushing her chest down against the cool metal of the Charger. He pushes into her quickly, feeling himself warm instantly as he speeds his hips up, thrusting extra hard when he’s fully inside of her. Neva’s hands scramble across the car, looking for something to hold onto and she finds the engine again, using it to help her push back against him, bringing him slightly deeper than before. His skin is ablaze, his thoughts racing, mixing with the Riders as he fucks her, warning him mentally to back off, unsure how long he’d be able to keep him at bay when he’s worked up like this. 

Then she pulses around him, his name tumbling from her lips over and over as she cums, squeezing him tightly, trying to keep him inside of her. He feels his balls tighten, his skin starting to lightly glow and he grunts, cumming hard as his hips jut into her soft ass, his hands squeezing her hips to keep her in place. He keeps his eyes closed, feeling his release wash over him as he simultaneously tries to fight back the Rider, who does eventually back down. Robbie looks down at Neva, her back heaving as she tries to catch her breath. Still seated snuggly inside, he leans over and pushes the hair from her cheek, moving in to kiss her there. Instead, she turns her head more, finding his lips with her own, as if she were trying to keep him there a little longer. The kiss breaks and Robbie pulls out with a grunt, tucking himself back into his pants.

“I don’t know if I have anything to clean you up-”

She chuckles, cutting off his sentence. Sitting up, she sways and Robbie catches her, pulling her close. 

“Don’t worry. I don’t mind feeling you between my thighs.”

His ears are hot, silently begging the Rider to stay put. “I plan on spending a lot of time between your thighs.”

“Ugh how are you so fucking hot?” She pulls him down to her, her nails scraping against the back of his head, his arms wrapping around her. 

“You’re so warm,” she sighs, cuddling into him. 

“I run hot.”

“Yeah you do.”

Robbie drives her back home, but not before she tells him to pull over, hopping into his lap and riding him until they’re both screaming the others name. 

—----

The next few weeks are spent tucking themselves away from prying eyes, Robbie practically living between her legs, pulling every sound he can from her. It becomes a little easier to keep the Rider at bay while he’s buried inside of her, but he’s not sure if he can always hold him back, which terrifies him. Neva doesn’t know about the Rider, about his secret. Would she even accept him?

It’s his night off, Neva having some sort of engagement to go to, a car sent to pick her up. Robbie slides a bowl of mac and cheese across the table to Gabe, who picks at it with his fork. 

“What?” Robbie asks, a mouthful of mac and cheese.

“It’s nothing.”

“You too good for mac and cheese now?” He smirks, but drops it once he sees Gabe not smiling.

“Gabe?”

“It’s just…you always put hot dogs in it before.”

Robbie smiles softly, schooling his face as he stands up, grabbing his brother’s bowl. “Alright, your majesty. Would you like them cut in cubes or circles?”

Gabe punches him in the arm. “You’re an ass.”

—-

Robbie jolts awake, his phone ringing loudly as is vibrates on his nightstand. Rubbing his eyes, he quickly glances at the time - 1am. No good calls come this late. He feels the color drain from his face when he realizes it’s his work phone, the one that Neva calls. He picks up, hoping that it was just her letting him know she made it home ok. She had promised to do that.

“Hey, chica.”

She takes a moment to answer and Robbie straightens up, sensing something is wrong.

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” her voice is barely above a whisper, harsh and rough, not sounding at all like the whispers she presses into his ear when he’s buried inside of her. His phone pings but he ignores it.

“Where are-”

The phone clicks off, but not before he heard a yell from her, a terrified yell, a pleading yell. He glances down at the phone and sees she had dropped her location, a red dot pulsing up at him from the map. He grabs his jacket, jumping into the Charger, feeling the fire blaze in him.

If anything has happened to her, we will get justice.

“You got that right,” His eyebrows furrow together in anger, his foot pressing into the gas as he makes his way across town in record time. He pulls up to the gate of a large estate, the guard taking his time coming over to him. Robbie tells him he’s here for Neva and the guard lets him in, the gate sliding shut behind him. He pulls right up to the front door, his car angled for a quick getaway if needed. His skin is on fire as he opens the door, striding over to the front door, raising his fist to knock when he hears her scream, pleading with someone to stop. Without thinking he kicks open the door, taking several large steps inside towards her voice and the sound of something hard making contact with her skin, a scream coming out every time it slaps against her. When he enters the room he sees her on the floor, blood smeared across her as her body curls in on itself, shielding her face with one hand, the other outstretched towards the man towering above her, riding crop raised above him, begging him to stop. Robbie’s skin lights up, eyes turning to fire as his skin melts away, the Rider pushing his way out.

—-

Neva, Earlier That Night:

“You will attend the gala with Mr. Fortier and attend his party after.”

I nod, familiar with this game having been forced to play it my entire life. My dad says me attending these things with these men, powerful men as he says, helps his business endeavors, which in turn helps the family. That I need to do what I have to for the good of the family. 

Of course, he’s not the one to have to endure them.

Showing up, being glorified arm candy clutching to the sleeve of some powerful man or his son, having to discreetly slap away their unwanted touches without upsetting them, having people ogle you like you were just another pretty face, like you were just a piece of furniture, really wears on you. But what else can I do?

I never liked going to these events, showing up with these people, but especially now that I have Robbie, albeit secretly because there’s no way my father would approve of me being with “the help”. I despise them. I begged my father not to go but he wouldn’t hear of it, slapping me across the face when I initially said no. I dabbed on a little extra concealer to hide the redness from his palm and painted on a smile for Mr. Fortier. 

The evening progressed as they usually do. A gala meant a beautiful gown, one that was worth more than most people make in a year, hand holding onto the arm of the man of the evening, Mr. Fortier, as he smirks, loving the attention he gets showing up with me on his arm. His hand rests on my thigh under the table at dinner and it turns my stomach. He starts to squeeze, his nails digging into my skin slightly, so I discreetly place my hand over his, squeezing it back like I wanted to hold hands, choking back the bile that threatens to spew from my mouth as he gives me a smile. 

We dance, his hand sliding a little too low for my comfort so I ask him to spin me, just to get away from his touch for a moment. The money for whatever charity this gala was sponsoring was made, everyone cheering like they made their donations to actually help the charity and not just for the tax write-off. I scan the room, seeing many faces that I know my father has done business with behind closed doors, illegal things that I’m not supposed to know about but I’m too smart to not realize that my dad is not a good man. 

Mr. Fortier asks me into his house after the gala for drinks and I initially decline, wanting to get home and scrub this night from my body, but when he persists, I remember my father telling me I will attend his after party. So I accept, a fake smile on my lips as he takes my hand, leading me inside. Once he has me in the living room I sit at his request, watching him walk to to his drink cart, offering to make me a drink. I decline the offer, saying I had too much already and he shrugs, raising the glass to his lips. It’s when he’s drinking that it starts to sink in - the silence of the house, the lack of movement even from staff, nothing to indicate an after party. I don’t even remember him telling other people there’s one at his house. 

I feel the color start to drain from my face as I realize what might happen next. It’s happened before, my father delighted with the extra money he earned from me. I didn’t realize it at the time, certain that the men had actually cared for me as I did them, so it hurt even more when I realized they’d done it for money or whatever deal my father promised them. They were my age and we were young, I was naive, believing in love and falling for slick words and touches I’d never had before. When I found out, I confronted my dad, who initially denied everything. I wanted to believe he was telling the truth, that he wasn’t putting on a show by telling these men to fuck off. But several months later, I would see them leaving the house, shaking hands with my father. 

I’d confided in my nanny, who held me close and told me that something similar had happened to her, except it hadn’t been her choice like it was mine. But then she told me about a secret herb to put in their drink, basically to knock them out, and then I could set the narrative. I graciously took the herb and it had been successful. Whenever anyone got too handsy, I’d offer to make them a drink, lacing the liquid with a dash of the tasteless herb, feeling a little too triumphant when they slumped over just a minute later. 

But this time, it’s too late. He’s already had a drink, placing the glass back down on his cart as he makes his way back around the couch to me. If he senses that I’m on to him he doesn’t let on, and he may not. Oscar winning actors have nothing on me. He sits next to me on the couch, leaning back and putting his arm along the backside of the couch. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” he asks, his eyebrows raised. 

I nod. “Of course. It’s always nice to have a fun time and raise money for charity.”

“That’s what I like about this particular gala. The money actually goes to the cause and not someone’s pocket.” 

An asshole with a conscience? That’s a first.

“Are you sure you don’t want a drink?”

“No, thank you, Mr. Fortier.” I glance at the clock on the wall, ornate filigray design set into the darkened wood. “Oh - it’s actually getting late. I need to be getting home.” I go to stand but he puts a hand out in front of me, preventing me from standing.

“You don’t have to go so soon, do you?”

I swallow down the scream that’s been echoing around my head and try to put on my best apologetic look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Fortier, but I do.” I go to stand, but his hand doesn’t move. 

“How will you get home?”

“I’ll call a car.”

“Don’t be silly. I’ll have one of mine drive you home. Give me a moment to call them.”

I nod, not comforted by his words. It’s the way he’s looking at me that’s making me feel icky, like I want to run from the house and not stop until I’m home. Or at Robbie’s. Do I even know where he lives?

“Please have a car ready for our guest…Thank you.” He hangs up the phone and I throw him a hopefully convincing smile. 

“Thank you, Mr. Fortier, for a fun night. I’m glad the fundraiser met its goal.” I move to stand when his hand tightens around my wrist, his ring digging into my skin. 

“Your father promised me your time after the gala. To do what I want.”

I look at him, trying to swallow down my fear and channel all of my confidence into my gaze. “Please let me go, Mr. Fortier.”

“I will get what I want.”

“Mr-”

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes across the quiet room, my cheek stinging with the contact as my head whips to the side. My hand instinctively comes up to my cheek, cupping it as I turn to look at him, his grip somehow tighter. 

“Please, Mr. Fortier, I don’t want-”

He shakes his head. “No, you stupid girl. I don’t want to have sex with you. I have other…desires that I need to release.”

I swallow hard, not really sure what he means, but trying to take solace in the fact that he’s not wanting to take me. 

“What -” My whole body is wrenched forward, face slamming against the hardwood floors as he throws me to the ground. He kicks me once, hard, and I nearly vomit, his dark chuckling getting louder as he squats next to me.

“Like I said, I have no interest in having sex with you. But putting marks on something so beautiful?” His finger graises my cheek and I flinch. “Well, that’s the fun we’re going to have tonight.” 

Pain. That’s all I know for what feels like forever, my skin splitting open open over and over, bones never quite breaking but on the verge of, hair being pulled from my scalp. He meant what he said. He never touches me sexually, never makes any indication of wanting that. I can feel myself in danger of blacking out, desperately trying to cling to consciousness despite my body wanting to shut down to ease the pain. After he throws me to the floor again, my body sliding across the floor, I hear him leave the room, telling me stay put. I lay there, feeling the cold floor slick with some of my blood, my brain screaming at me to run while I have the moment, but I know I wouldn’t make it far, and that it would be worse for me if I attempted it. Something digs into my side and I realize it’s my clutch, having fallen from the couch when I was initially thrown. Wincing at the pain, I grab it, sliding it across the floor to my head. I fish out my phone, keeping one eye on the open door as I blink at the screen, unable to make out any numbers. Luckily, I only need one. Pressing the speed dial slot 1, I wait, praying to whomever is listening that Robbie is awake. 

“Hey, chica.” 

I nearly break down at his voice, a light shining through the darkness I’ve been pulled in. 

“Nev-”

“Please come get me,” I choke out, trying to be quiet but clear. I drop my location to him when I hear Mr. Fortier’s footsteps coming back into the room. 

“Where are-”

He grabs my ankle and I scream, eyes going wide as I see the riding crop held in his other hand, pleading with him to just let me go. I’m not sure how much time passes but in the back of my mind I hear him, the Charger, unmistakeable in its sound, pulling up to the house. Mr. Fortier doesn’t seem to notice, too involved in whatever sick pleasure he’s gaining from this as he raises the crop to me again and again. I cover my face, raising my arm out weakly to try and stop him, begging him to stop. 

And I feel him, Robbie, barging into the room, the last thing I see before passing out is his eyes, full of fire, blazing orange as he shifts, heat enveloping the room, somehow comforting me as I black out. 

—----

Neva:

I remember waking once since that night, very briefly, bright lights shining down into my face while gloved hands and a person in a white coat moves around me, poking and touching my skin where Mr. Fortier had left his mark. I remember my pulse speeding up and then he’s there, Robbie, holding my hand and pushing hair back from my face, telling me he’s got me, that I’m safe. Then I black out again. 

My eyelids flutter open and at first, I’m certain I’ve gone blind. But then my eyes adjust and I realize that I’m in a room, a bedroom, and that it must be night because the room is nearly pitch black, a quiet nightlight plugged in on the other side of the room, making just enough light to see the floor. As my brain catches up to me, I start to make out shadowy shapes from around the room, a taller one that must be a dresser, a smaller one that most likely held books or a tv. I’m in a bedroom, not a hospital room, and certainly not my own room. 

I slowly flex my fingers, making a fist and opening them back up against the sheets and I notice the weight next to me. Slowly, my head pounding slightly, I turn to look and see Robbie next to me, his eyes closed and lips slightly parted, a quiet snore emanating from him. God, he’s beautiful. The man I trust most in this world. Actually, the person I trust most-

Wait. Did his head turn into a flaming skull? Was he Ghost Rider? That had to be a pain hallucination. Right?

He jolts awake, his eyes finding mine and, seeing that I’m awake, he sits up, shaking his head quickly to rid it of sleep.

“Hey, chica. How are you feeling?”

“Ok, I think.” My throat is raw and then he’s holding up a glass of water, a bendy straw sticking out of the top and holding it to my lips. 

“Small sips, ok?” I do as he says, the water helping to abate the raw feeling.

“How long?”

“Just a couple of days. I took you to a guy I know to get you checked out after you begged me not to bring you to a hospital.”

That explains the bright lights and white coat. 

“He said you’ll be fine, that nothing was broken but you’re severely bruised, several cuts needing stitches, and that you’ll be sore for a bit. I do have some pain meds here if you need them.”

“Did…did anyone look for me?” I say this already knowing the answer.

“I…no. Well, you got a text a day or so ago, but I didn’t look.” He leans back and grabs my phone off the nightstand, handing it to me. I unlock it, navigating to the text app and, sure enough, there’s the text from my dad.

Dad: You earned us an extra 7%. A job well done.

I roll my eyes, trying to swallow back the anger and bile in my throat as I hand Robbie back the phone. His eyes glance down at the screen where I’ve left the text up, his eyes almost glowing orange as his brow furrows together in anger. 

“What the fuck?” He asks, looking up at me. 

I try to sit up but my body screams at me, forcing me to stay put. He takes my hand, rubbing little circles into the back of it with his thumb. “It’s ok, Neva. Just stay put.”

I nod, taking a deep breath. And then I tell him everything, how my father treated me my entire life, how I was forced to wine and dine these men or their sons, how I was able to fight most of them off with herbs given to me by my nanny, how twice it had come to more than business and how stupid I was for believing those men, even though they claimed to love me still after I found out, but the trust had been broken. How I missed the chance tonight to give the herb to Mr. Fortier, how I’ve been hurt before but never like this. I don’t look at him when I tell him, but his hand never moves from mine, squeezing it harder with every detail I give him. By the end, I’m surprised to find tears on my face, Robbie reaching up to swipe them away for me. 

“So I’m not surprised no one is looking for me. My dad always sends an update text like this, that what I’ve done for the family was worth it. 7% though? If my dad saw me, he’d negotiate for at least 8%.” It was meant to be funny, trying to lighten the tension, but Robbie didn’t laugh. Or smile.

“Your dad is a bad man.”

I nod. “I’ve known that for quite a while, Robbie.”

“Why didn’t you leave the family then?”

That’s a loaded question. “I guess it was easier to stay. I was raised to do this, Robbie. By the time I’d realized how fucked up it was, my dad’s reach was far. I had no one, aside from my nanny whom he sent back to Russia. I trusted no one, resigned to my fate. And then…you. From day one you made me, no make me feel safe. Like someone cares about me, that I won’t just fade into nothing. You’re my hero, Robbie.” I finally chance a glance up at him, expecting a smile or something, but instead, I’m met with a guilty look, an undeserving expression on his face and he doesn’t look at me. 

“Robbie?”

“I’m not a hero.”

I squeeze his hand. “You are. You literally saved my life that night.”

He shakes his head. “That wasn’t me.”

I scoff. “It was you who walked through the door, saw me, and it was you who pulled me from that…wait was the house on fire?”

He’s quiet for a few minutes and I give him the space he needs. He shifts next to me, making sure I can see his eyes. 

“I have to tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone. Not even my brother, ok?”

I try to move again, but my body retaliates, pain radiating out from where I moved. “I promise. You can tell me anything.”

“Just…know that I feel safe with you, that it’s you who saved me. I don’t deserve it. Don’t argue, just listen, ok?” He takes a deep breath. “I’m Ghost Rider. Well, he is in me.”

“...the guy with the flaming skull head, right?”

“That’s him.”

I let out a small laugh of relief and his eyebrows pinch together. “Why are you laughing?”

“No, it’s just…I saw you...well him? Right before I passed out and I thought for sure I was going crazy, that maybe I’d hit my head too hard. God, this is a relief!”

He studies me for several long moments. “I wasn’t expecting this reaction, you sure you’re ok?���

“I feel much better now that I know my brain isn’t severely addled.”

“I tell you that I turn into a murderous being with a flaming skull for a head and your reaction is ‘oh thank God I’m not crazy’?” The corners of his mouth tick up and then he’s full on smiling. “You’re loca, Neva.”

“Maybe. But you said he’s in you? I don’t understand. Are you not an inhuman then?”

Robbie watches me for a moment and then shakes his head. He launches into an explanation, about how he was out car racing when the Fifth Street Locos attacked his car, on a hit for his uncle, how Gabe, who had simply caught him leaving the house late at night and Robbie convinced him to come along, had a bullet lodged in his spine which means he’d never walk again. How he himself was flung from the Charger, body riddled with bullets, when a voice offered him revenge and he accepted, his body reanimating and healing. How he did seek vengeance, taking out not just that gang but other people too, the Rider coming out to burn them alive, that he only took out those who deserved it. That he did burn down Mr. Fortier’s house, after taking care of him himself, to make it look like an accident. 

“When I walked in and I saw him standing over you, I just lost it. The Rider too. That’s what you saw.”

I squeeze his hand harder, placing his palm on my chest. “Is that why you’re always warm?”

“Pretty much.”

“I stand by what I said before. You’re not a murderer, Robbie. You don’t kill innocent people. They deserve what they’ve gotten, I’m sure…Is it… could I talk to him?”

Robbie raises his eyebrows. “You wanna talk to him?”

“I just want to thank him personally for his part in saving me? If that’s ok.”

He watches me for a long time, like he’s having an internal conversation with himself and it dawns on me, he probably is. Just with the Rider.

“Ok.”

Robbie stands up, taking a step back from the bed, his bed, his eyes on mine. And then they’re blazing orange, like fire itself, his skin peeling back as the skull emerges, embers and flames raising from that face that holds my heart. The Rider stands there, lighting up the room as he turns his face down to me, flames licking out from where his eyes should be. 

“Thank you.”

He nods, a single nod before the flames were being extinguished, skin growing back piece by piece and then Robbie’s back, immediately coming to my side, hesitating in taking my hand.

“You ok, Neva?”

I nod. “Better, now that I get to see your face.” I grunt through a little pain to bring my hand to his cheek, fingers touching the spots where I know his freckles lay. Those freckles that are the death of me. 

“You’re after my dad, aren’t you?” It slips out, this thought I’d had once he told me about the Rider. And honestly, it all makes sense. He never seemed the chauffeur type. I just thought I had been lucky to find the one random, hot man driving one of my dream cars that actually wanted to drive people around in it. 

“Nev-”

“It’s ok. I know he’s my father, technically, but he’s never been my dad.”

“Will we be ok?” Even though the room is dark, I can see his eyes, wide and worried, eyebrows pinched together. I manage to slide my hand up to that spot, trying to smooth away that pinch with my fingers. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

He visibly relaxes, sliding himself next to me and gently wrapping himself around me, his nose nuzzling in my hair as he inhales, all while I’m inhaling him where my face is against his broad chest. 

“Can you just…wait until I’m better?”

“Did you want to see him?”

“What? Oh no. I just want Nurse Robbie to take care of me.”

He chuckles and my head bounces slightly with it, the rumbling there lulling me back to sleep.

“Nurse Robbie is on duty.”

—----

3 months later…

Her dad was gone, the Rider had left his mark that day. Her mom had fled the country, taking every asset she could, seemingly leaving Neva with nothing. But of course, Neva was smarter than that, tucking money away for literally years, always using her dad’s credit when she needed something. She had more than enough to live comfortably the rest of her life, not filthy rich like before, but more than comfortable, eventually wearing down Robbie with her pleas of “just let me spoil you and your brother”. She’d gotten them a new place in a good part of town, pulling strings to get Gabe into a really nice school that would look great on his college applications. 

When Robbie insisted he stay at Canelo’s in order to stay in the know about what was happening, in case the Rider needed to come out, she followed him, surprising Canelo himself with her extensive knowledge of cars. Her presence attracted new customers, much to the delight of Canelo. 

But today was a slow day and her target was Robbie. 

“Would you just hand me the wrench already?” Robbie smiles, his hand outstretched as Neva clutches the wrench to her chest, an impish smirk on her face as she shakes her head.

“Come and get it.”

He chuckles, standing with a slight grunt as his muscles stretch. “Oh you wanna play, chica?” Robbie

He lunges towards her, hands outstretched, smile on his face and she squeals, trying to run with the wrench but it’s shape making it awkward. She drops it and slows momentarily, thinking Robbie would stop but then he’s there, covering her mouth as she squeals again, smiling into his gloved hand as he pushes her into the office, locking the door behind him before giving her his own version of teasing, her fingers twisting through his hair, his name a quiet chant on her lips, and Robbie knows there is nowhere he’d rather be. 

—----

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