#Firefly’s Summer Challenge | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

oonajaeadira · 1 year

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Leave Off Your Wandering pt. 2: Summer

Fandom: The Last of Us (TV)/ Joel Miller

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Reader: Adult female. Old enough to have been an adult on Outbreak Day. Wyoming born and bred. Sheep farmer, easy-going but confident and self-sufficient. Likes to sing, not a great cook. Childhood friend of Maria. No other physical descriptors; no use of y/n.

Rating: T for now

Warnings: Hunting and skinning squirrels. Chemical burns to skin. Piercing injury. Joel being a dick in a moment of self-preservation. Ellie's still a swear-mouth. Everybody makes some mistakes.

Summary: You solve a problem for Ellie and Joel really doesn't take it well.

A/N: Set after season 1 and then diverges. Does not acknowledge the existence of further plot/seasons, although I claim the right to steal ideas and bits of cannon from the second game if I want to for plot reasons later.

Listen. I know those warnings up there seem like a bit much, but I promise you all of that is in passing, in service to the plot, and not described in detail. (With the exception Ellie's cussing. That will persist indefinitely.) This is stupid fluffy.

Your gut reaction is to fetch your gun and point it at Ellie’s head.

But the girl is calm.

And the bites are healed.

“Wanna shoot me, don’t you,” she challenges with a mismatched set of cocky mouth and world weary eyes. “This one happened before I met Joel. And this one the day after. This is why he took me to the Fireflies. He told me not to tell anyone. That’s why I freaked out.”

Earlier in the day you’d gone looking for Ellie, hoping to show her the honeybee hive you’d discovered at the edge of the meadow. She’d been bathing in the stream, stripped down to nothing. She’d shrieked when she saw you coming near and you’d laughed and kept your eyes averted, understanding the self-consciousness of teenagers, about to tell her to come and find you when she was done.

And then she roared.

“GET THE HELL AWAY FROM ME! GO!”

It had been a punch to the heart if not a slap to the face, which you were certain by her tone you would have received had you been close enough.

Saying nothing, and simply obeying her wish, you’d turned and gone back to the Roost. Ellie stayed away so long that her hair was completely dry and her nose was sunburned when she finally joined you.

Every footfall had been an apology on the ladder. And every slow creak along the porch was following an olive branch to the broken down sofa you perched on to keep watch over the north meadow.

Taking a reticent seat beside you, she’d rolled up her sleeve. “I’m sorry I yelled. I didn’t want you to see it. It’s kind of a life and death thing.”

“Obviously,” you answer, shellshocked. “Reaction warranted.” Dropping her arm to her lap and reaching up to pull down her cuff, you stop her, holding out a waiting hand. “Can I?”

Suddenly doe-eyed and struck by your acceptance, she nods and lays her forearm in your palm.

There’s instinctual revulsion at first, but it melts to wonder as you get a closer look at the scars. There’s nothing of skin breakage, no mycelium running underneath, nothing reaching for you through holes as there would be if you were having one of your nightmares.

Immunity. Statistically speaking, it had to exist, but she’s the first you’ve ever seen or heard of.

“I wondered why you’d choose to wear long sleeves in this heat. I see now. Joel was smart to tell you to keep it covered. This’ll get you killed faster than infection, that’s for sure.” The tendons in her arm flex involuntarily when you run your fingers over the marks. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tickle.” She relaxes as you release her. This time she doesn’t move to cover the skin. “Out in the open with Joel, I can imagine why you were bit the second time. How’d you come by it the first time?”

“Messing around with a friend where I wasn’t supposed to.”

Ah. By the pull at her brow and the same laws of statistics, you’d hazard to guess that friend didn’t make it. Probably another kid like her. Tragic.

“I see. And that’s why you were being smuggled. That’s why they wanted you. Well, what did the Fireflies make of you?”

She clearly catches the way you slather contempt onto the name of the terrorist organization, but answers your question. “They wanted to make a cure from my blood. They had me on the operating table but raiders attacked the hospital and killed everyone while I was under. So I guess we missed our chance.”

A quiet minute passes as you watch her tracing her thumb over the scar, lost in thought, brow twisted, recounting the ordeal of that day. Something doesn’t sit right with her about it.

And neither does it sit right with you.

Doctors don’t put a person on an operating table just to draw blood.

And you’ve heard stories of what Joel’s capable of.

You’ve witnessed just how protective he is over this little girl.

Her reverie dissolves when you lay a gentle hand on her shoulder. “While I’m sorry they never got the chance to find the possibilities, I understand enough about research medicine to know that the likelihood of their finding a cure from just one person is almost impossible. So while they might have been able to study your blood, they most likely wouldn’t be able to get enough of it or keep it stable long enough to find any answers.”

“How do you know that?”

Over the next hour as the sun sinks in the sky and she soaks up your history, you tell her about your sister. How you and her and Maria were a tight-knit team growing up, how in love with Maria she was, how you were certain they were going to get married one day.

Then you tell her how Maria went off to law school and your sister got sick, that the cancer was rare and the treatment was long and expensive, so your parents had opted for research to fray some costs and keep the ranch.

In the end, there were no answers, not without more donors of her ilk.

Your parents took a loan against the ranch, knowing full well they would lose it, but everyone agreed it was worth it for whatever time it would buy her.

And then Jakarta fell. And the world went to hell.

A few of the elderly residents of the Jackson basin came to hole up on the ranch and most of Willa’s family and tribal branch moved over from their land to form a protective new family group. It worked for a few years. It was safe. It was a thriving little commune.

And then the Fireflies came.

“There were Fireflies out here too?”

“Oh yeah, they were in every QZ, spreading their lies and chaos through the telegram towers, recruiting poor young suckers wherever they took root and getting them all killed. You tangled with them and I’d say you’re lucky you’re alive.”

Ellie frowns down at her arm again. “What did they do when they came here?”

Another story then. Now you explain with a little less nostalgia how the Fireflies came to use your ranch as a base. Trucks coming and going at all hours. Gunshots in the night. Catching the attention of roving packs of raiders. People got hurt. People died.

There was one day when two Fireflies went out foraging mushrooms with old Ms. Celia. They brought her body back on a makeshift sled. Just keeled over, they said.

Funny how the same thing happened the week before with old Ms. Margie. What a coincidence that it was happening when the food supplies were running low.

But the last blow came when the ranch was attacked by raiders a third time. There was a plan in place to create a distraction, draw their attention away from the ranch. The Fireflies knew your sister was sick and designated she do the job. They put a gun to your head when you protested.

It’s okay, she’d said, I don’t have much left to lose. If I’m going out, at least the people I love will be safe.

It was a shit plan.

A lot of people died that day. Most of them were raiders, thanks to Willa and her tribe. Some of them were Fireflies thanks to you and your shotgun.

“So did you win?”

“No. The barriers were still broken. And the ranch was burned to the ground.”

The evening sky is a mix of purples and gold now, the flocks of birds swooping over the meadow are starting to vie for their meal of mosquitos and gnats with an increasing number of bats. Ellie watches one in particular as it swoops up and over the roof of the Roost.

“What about your parents?”

“They burned with the ranch.”

She nods solemnly, without horror, the attitude of a child that’s seen too much.

“And your sister died too then?”

"She got away at first. Found her in the woods a week later with a bite like yours, but she was long gone by then. One of Willa’s brothers did the shooting.”

Another quiet nod. “What was your sister’s name?” she asks as an evening bird calls.

It was bound to come up.

“Eleanor. We called her Ell. Ellie, when she was little.” When you can see the unearned guilt building in her face you bump her shoulder playfully. “It was almost twenty years ago. I hold onto the good memories. She was sweet and kind to everyone she met, never backsassed our parents, never disobeyed. So basically nothing like you at all.” You laugh when she shoots you an annoyed look. “Not that she was an angel though! She had her fire; you didn’t want to get on her bad side. And she was whip smart. That’s where the two of you meet I think.”

“Sounds like you lost everything at once.”

“I did,” a fact you aknowledge as you stretch and get up, heading back into the cabin to light the lantern. “But Willa helped me through. And then Jackson got its walls up and Maria found her way home and I had family again.” Once the lantern flickers to life, you grab your bag and start pawing through it. “You keep going for family.”

“That’s what Joel says.”

“Huh. You know what? I believe you. Here,” pulling a tank top out of your pack you toss it at her and it smacks her in the face. “While you’re out here you can wear that and not die of heat stroke in those knit tops. But when you’re out in the sun, put something over your shoulders or use the tsuga paste. Your skin hasn’t seen sun in a while and the last thing I need to do is bring you back cooked like a Christmas goose and have Joel all up in my ass about it.”

“That actually sounds like a good thing for both of you, if you ask me.”

“Watch it.”

“What? I didn’t say anything! Look at the time! We should be spinning wool! How I love spinning wool. Whoopee!”

“Like I said. Nothing like my sister. You little shit.”

________

“Meadowlark to patrol.”

“This is patrol.”

“Starling and I are on the southeast side of the meadow near the chokecherry copse and we’ve found a honeybee hive. I’m going to tie red flags to the surrounding trees. You wanna put the word out that some of these cherries are ready to go and get someone suited out here to scope out this hive?”

“This will make four hives now.”

“I know. We’re getting lucky this year.”

“Will do, Meadowlark. We’ll radio in before we cross borders.”

“Copy. Out.”

On the way back to the Roost you and Ellie stop to greet a group of sheep lazing in the grass, sitting down and sharing cherries with them from a basket between the two of you.

“They can eat these?” she asks.

“Sure. They can pretty much eat whatever we do. Chokecherries are fine. Just don’t give ‘em the leaves or stems. Those are poisonous.”

This means taking the time to pull cherries away from the branches until there’s a handful to feed the sheep. Normally you’d be fending them off during this, they’d be insistent and impatient, but the heat of the day has them lazy and languid.

It’s also working on Ellie as she yawns, stretching her white arms plastered in pine and sunflower paste for protection, her scar marring her otherwise unburned forearm.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” you hand her another branch to start shucking. “Willa does tattoos. She could cover that for you.”

Ellie hesitates. “Maybe.”

“What. You don’t want a tattoo? I thought you might like that. It would be pretty badass. We could cover it with a starling or something….”

“I guess.” You wait for her excuse. It’s a decent one. “I just…It would mean Willa would know too. Joel told me not to tell anyone. I don’t think I should.”

“I understand. That’s kinda why I suggested Willa. The woman’s a vault.” But Ellie’s fingers stop picking berries, as if she doesn’t know what to do or what to say. “Oh. I see. You don’t want Joel to know you told anyone. Even me.”

She nods.

She changes the subject then–something about him wanting to keep her safe, even teaching her to use a shotgun to protect herself–but your mind keeps working on the problem.

It’s only when you make it back to the ladder at the Roost, one foot frozen on the bottom rung, that you find the answer.

“What’s wrong?” she asks from behind you.

Under the posts of the Roost is a load of firewood. And under that wood….

“Ellie…if there was another way to get rid of your scar, would you?”

“What. You gonna give me some kinda bird tattoo yourself? Is it gonna look like a blob or–”

“I mean, do you want it gone at all?”

She pulls herself out of her slouched position to her full height. “I mean…yeah…I think a tattoo is actually a great idea I just…”

“What if Willa didn’t have to know? What if she thought she was covering up something else?” Pulling a few armfulls of wood away from the side of the pile, you uncover a wide plank of wood, once a handsome cedar coffee table top, now a sunken excuse for a forest cellar door. Prying the wood out of its depression, you reveal an earthen pit housing a couple of shovels, a couple pairs of oilskin mittens, and a covered earthen pot.

“This,” you point to the pot, “is lye. We keep it out here in case one of the sheep dies from infection or illness. It’s important to bury the sheep to keep it away from the flock. But even if you bury a carcass, bear and coyotes will come sniffing around and dig it up. We discourage that with this. Lye breaks down organic matter. That’s why we have gloves in here. It burns skin.”

Ellie frowns into the pit, understanding slowly dawning until she asks with a gasp, “Does it hurt?”

“Hells yes it does. It’s a burn, Ellie. It hurts like a son of a bitch, there’s no way I’d lie about that. But it will twist the features of that scar. You’ll never have to dodge suspicion again.”

“Mother. Fucker,” her whisper shakes, but she eyes the pot in steady fascination.

“You know what?” You throw the tabletop back down over the hole, “I saw a whole lot of squirrels around those chokecherries and they’re actually good eating if you get a few of them and throw ‘em in a pot with some potatoes and onion and garlic…. Too bad their skins are too small to be useful. But we can’t just leave ‘em lying around, you know. So if you and I were to go out and get a few and make a stew, and say I was to show you how the lye works with the leavings… well, something might happen.” The girl looks you dead in the eye, her jaw dropping open a little in disbelief. “What do you say? You wanna go out and do some target practice? Get some squirrel for dinner?”

A switch flips in Ellie’s spine and her eyes spark cold and bright, two supernovas in a smiling galaxy.

“Fuck yes. I’ll get the rifle.”

________

“Good shot!” you cheer as a third squirrel drops from a branch and you share a high five. “Wonder who taught you that! Damn, girl! Three for three. Tonight, we feast.”

“So, when are we doing this?” Ellie smiles as you walk back to the Roost, the barrel of the rifle slung over one shoulder, a string of fuzzy dinner swinging from the other.

“Tomorrow morning. Willa will be coming in at noon and that should give us some time to get a good burn in before she arrives. It should be fine, but if anything goes wrong, she can help and that makes me feel better about it. Ellie…. You sure you trust me with this?”

“I can’t die from it, right?”

“No, but you might want to. It’s sure as hell not gonna be pleasant.”

“Lady, I spent half a year walking across the country with Joel. I’m a master at dealing with unpleasant.” By now the sheep are familiar with the sound of Ellie’s laughter and a few perk up on your way past to follow you lazily back to the Roost. “But, like, I don’t understand why we have to go through all this with the squirrels. Don’t get me wrong, I like the target practice and all…”

You take the squirrels from her and set up a makeshift butcher’s block on a stump left waist high specifically for this purpose. “I don’t want to lie to Joel when he freaks out about you getting hurt. We had squirrels. We disposed of the leavings. You got burned with the lye. Truth truth truth.”

“You think he’ll be mad at you?”

“Oh, I’m already counting that into the equation. I know you seem to think he’s fond of me, but not all the evidence leads up to that. You know how to clean a squirrel?”

“Sure do,” she grins as she trades the rifle for your boot knife and, taking the first rodent in hand, she works it skillfully, tongue sticking out the corner of her mouth, skinning the critter in one go. “Thanks, little buddy. You were cute, but you’ll be gooooooood eating.”

“You’re a hell of a kid.”

“Yeah, well, guess who taught me this?” she says as she morbidly slices through another one, making dramatic death noises as she goes. “Why do you think he doesn’t like you? Joel’s stupid about you. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“Jesus, Ellie.” With a sigh and a shake of the head, you indulge her question and your own immature angst. “Well, for starters, I can tell he doesn’t think much of some of my conversation.”

“What do you mean?” Another skin lands at her feet.

“He just…doesn’t answer questions sometimes. Ignores comments. Doesn’t like to join in on the joke.”

“This is a big one,” she grunts, tugging at the final squirrel. “What side are you standing on when he ignores you?”

“Huh?”

“Where are you standing when you talk to Joel? He’s deaf in his right ear.”

You blink.

And suddenly a hell of a lot of things make a hell of a lot of sense.

That one time you complimented his shirt and he said nothing, you were on his right.

That one time you poked fun at his scowl. On his right.

You cracked that joke, offered a piece of pie, told him everything would be alright.

Right. Right. Right.

“I…didn’t know that,” you stammer stupidly, flinching when Ellie hands your knife back and heads for the ladder.

“Yeah, that was obvious. I’m gonna go get a bowl.” You’re still in shock as she starts climbing. “Don’t expect him to get down on one knee when he asks you to marry him; he’s got shitty knees too. He’s happy to complain about it if you ask him. Make sure it’s in his left ear.”

________

“Okay, look at me, Ellie. Breathe.”

She nods, her eyes burning with determination over the shirt you’ve tied around her nose and mouth to protect her from inhaling the mix.

As you sit in the grass a few meters from the stream with her arm resting in your mittened hands, you lay the lye-laden cloth over the scar and enclose it with pressure.

Her breath comes heavily. Bravely. Then you hear it change as the lye begins to work.

“Shit. It itches,” she hisses. “Shit. Shit shit fuck fuck ow it’s getting worse–”

“You want me to stop?”

“No shit fuck I can do this I got this shiiiiiiiiiit!”

“I won’t let you go too long but you let me know if you need–”

“I’m fine! FUCK!”

It’s when she screams that you know it’s enough and releasing her, you order, drill sergeant style, “Go! Go! Go! Fifteen minutes! Don’t look at it!”

Ellie bolts into the ice cold stream, sneakers and all, gasping as the water washes the cloth away from her. “Shit. I thought it would feel better. It doesn’t!”

“Does it feel worse?”

“No, it just fucking burns!”

A sigh of relief. “Well, that’s good. Just… just let it rinse. Do you feel woozy at all?”

She just shakes her head, looking down through the water. “It’s getting red. And puffy.”

“No broken skin?”

“No.”

“Good. It’ll probably blister up some.”

Ellie might not be feeling woozy, but you sure are. Was it a reckless idea? Probably. Will it actually work? Hopefully. Do you feel bad that she’s gonna be in pain for a while? Fuck yes. But then you remember when she put on your tank top and just … laid in the grass and smiled. Even if she never wore short sleeves again, at least nobody was going to make a fast decision with a gun to her skull.

You really should have checked with Joel though. No matter what Ellie wants, you know full well it wasn’t your call to make.

Another problem for another day.

“Everything okay down there?” Willa’s black braids glint in the sun as she walks down from the Roost.

“Ellie had a run in with the lye,” you call back.

“Yeah, I see you were composting. I filled in the hole.” She hardly even stops when she reaches you, simply pulls off her boots and heads straight into the water. “Let’s see. Oh yeah. That’s a burn alright.”

As Willa inspects Ellie’s submerged arm, the girl looks up and smiles at you, giving you a wet thumbs up. “Hurts like a motherfucker!"

“I’ll bet,” the woman hums dryly. “That’s going to swell up and scar pretty bad. Why don’t you sit and let the water do its work. Meadowlark and I will go pack your things and I’ll grab the gauze in the first aid kit.”

Willa doesn’t ask questions as you pack up, just the regular routine of information trade off. You tell her that you’ve marked a few sheep with blue dye to keep an eye on for injuries or dehydration. And she lets you know what’s going on in town, including the fact that there’s gonna be a wedding with a reception at the food hall over the weekend.

“Really? Who?”

“Bear and Missy Tippet.”

“Your uncle??? Willa, I can stay; don’t you wanna be there?”

She laughs. “Hell no I do not. You know exactly how I feel about Missy Tippet; same as you. I’d rather be out here. Perfect timing. They’ve been keeping each other warm on and off for years now. Maybe this will finally keep her on. As much as I hate to picture that,” she shivers.

Willa’s such an even-keeled soul and it’s not just anyone she’ll shit talk in front of. “Well, your secret’s safe with me. If it is a secret that is.”

“What’s a secret?” Ellie interrupts as she pulls herself up to the balcony from the ladder with one hand.

Willa takes a little time to show her the correct way to bandage the burn–not too tight–while you pack the horses, as well as instructing you where to find her stash of willow bark if Ellie needs it for the pain.

But something tells you that Eliie’s gonna tough it out. Though she holds her arm gingerly as she rides, fisting the reigns in her left hand, the girl grins all the way back to Jackson like she’s just pulled off the heist of the century.

________

Jackson is busy when you ride through the gates midday, folks passing by on their way to visit, deliver, build. Purpose in Jackson is taken seriously, as is leisure, and both are on display as you pass by the rustic main drag, in many different ways frozen in time–log storefronts and Mickey Mouse tshirts, leather-saddled livestock and Japanese fans.

You spot Joel waiting at the stables before he sees you, distracted by none other than Missy Tippet. Getting herself married or not, the stunning woman is a glutton for attention and a class A flirt, and she’s not the only one in town whose head turned the minute Joel took up residence.

Not that you can blame her, with him in that tight grey tshirt, busting a carpenter’s arms out of its sleeves and contouring it with sweat…. By the dust on his face, he’s been working today. Probably took a break to wait for–

“Ellie. Hey! You decided to come home.”

“Yup,” she says, throwing him the reins to distract him while she gingerly dismounts. “I shot three squirrels!”

You avoid Joel’s questioning glance as you slide down from your own mare and lead her into a stall. “Go on, you two, I’ll stable up. Nice to see you, Cinnamon Roll.”

But they’re already on their way, an engaged chattering, laughing questions and energetic answers…and your teasing goes unheard. Ah. Wrong ear, you realize.

Missy smirks; condescends.“Cinnamon roll, huh? Good try, I guess.”

You don’t rise to her bait. “Just giving him sass. He’s obviously not a fan. You gonna help me with these saddles or keep slobbering all over the men that aren’t your fiancee what come on by?”

Okay. Maybe a little rising.

________

It’s your ritual, first thing back from the meadow. The Roost holds a special place in your heart, but the one thing it can’t deliver is a shower. Great gods of earth and sky, let there be thanks that warm water’s still a thing, even in summer.

You’re still dripping, one head tilted to the side as you drain the last of the water out one ear, when there’s a knock at the front door downstairs.

Well, let’s see. There aren’t that many people who know you’re back yet and Ellie’s come home with a bandage on her arm. It’s easy to guess who’s knocking. Okay. Let’s get this over with.

When you answer the door wrapped in nothing but a towel, it obviously wasn’t what Joel was expecting, and if he walked over here with any ire, it instantly freezes and shatters like a bubble on the tundra when he takes in all the skin on display.

“You’ll excuse me if I don’t invite you in for snacks at the moment.”

Deflated, he simply rams his hands in his pockets, squinting. “You wanna tell me about Ellie’s arm?”

“I had planned on it at a time when I wasn’t wet and naked, but sure.” When he throws his hands up in defeat and turns to leave, you stop him, catching at his sleeve and stretching the fabric so it snaps back against his arm. “Hey. Wait. Yes. I was going to tell you.” As you cross your arms over the towel and lean on the door frame, he does much the same on the other side, averting his eyes and trying not to fidget. And failing. “It happened this morning. She shot some squirrels and we dressed ‘em for dinner last night and buried the bones and pelts. Gotta lye ‘em or animals come digging. I thought she could handle it. Looks like we both got burned, so to speak.” His face is stony. Unamused. You continue. “Willa looked at it this morning, we got it a good rinse. I’m gonna go by her place later and grab some willow bark and show Ellie how to compress.” He shakes his head at his boots. “Hey. She’ll be fine, Joel.”

“I don’t want her getting hurt out there.”

“And I do? It’s a chemical burn, not a clicker bite. She’ll learn from it. Kids can’t be put in glass cages.” It’s here that you pretend not to see the flash in his eye at the mention of bites, meanwhile noticing a bad scrape on his forearm. Seeing your opening, you reach out to draw a finger over it. “Jesus, Joel. Look at this. This. See? We all have occupational hazards. Come on.”

With a sigh you turn and pad into the kitchen to your first aid drawer, taking a chance that pays off--you’re surprised to hear him actually following. It takes a minute to dress the wound and you’re not ginger about it–water, apple cider vinegar, gauze. It’s a quiet minute though, one you thought you could power through, and maybe you could have, if you were in anything more than a towel…or couldn’t hear him breathing…or feel it on your skin. Trying to play it cool and get a vibe check on him, you look up only to catch his eye shifting away from your bare shoulder back to your work on his arm.

It’s time to break the silence, but you don’t feel the need to be on the defense anymore.

“We don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around, you know. Don’t let this stuff fester, okay, cinnamon roll? You and that daredevil kid are a matching pair, you know that?”

He only grunts, half rolling his eyes at you, jaw set, voice at a soft compromise. “Yeah, well, I don’t want her going back out there until she’s healed up. Limited use of both arms is a good path to more accidents.”

“Fair. You win. Summer’s pretty slow anyway. I could use the quiet.” Laying it on thick, you tie up the ends of the gauze before releasing him back into the wilds. “Warm sun, buzz of bees. Sweet smell of grass and lupines. Meadow’s a good place for afternoon naps. Easier to do without an apprentice yapping my ear off.”

He nods thoughtfully at this--your words showing their effect--and slowly turns and heads for the door.

And you smile knowingly as you watch him go.

“You know,” you call out just before he closes the door behind him, “door’s open at the Roost. You can always come out there with her if you’re so concerned. That is, if you don’t mind sleeping on a broke-down sofa on the porch.”

Without looking back, he pauses briefly in the patch of summer glare. Then he silently steps out and pulls the door shut, leaving only the click of the latch and the sunlight through the leaded glass.

Well. That certainly could have gone much worse.

________

At least you’re wearing more clothes when it finally does go worse.

“What happened here, squirt?” Tommy taps his fork on Ellie’s bandage at family dinner.

And Ellie answers with a light jab to his arm. “Ow, you dick! That hurts!”

“Ellie–” a scold in stereo from both you and Joel.

As her teacher, the admonishment was instinctual. But in current context, it may have been a breach of place. The table goes silent as Joel’s head snaps in your direction and everyone else’s eyes bounce between you two, utterly amused. There’s a moment when you’re afraid he might just continue to glare, but then he cracks half a smile, shakes his head, and goes back to shoveling a spoonful of potatoes into his mouth.

It’s a reaction that lets you know Joel’s forgiven you, back to allowing you to be a rearing force in Ellie’s life.

“Meadowlark let me do some target practice and I shot some squirrels for dinner. Had to bury the skin and bones with lye and I got burned. Oops.”

“Oh my god,” Maria chews. “Are you okay?”

Ellie gives her a precocious smile and follows it with sarcastic condescension. “Yes, I’m going to live. As long as some people let it heal and stop hitting me with sharp things because they think they’re funny and they’re not.”

Tommy sticks his tongue out at Ellie and Maria laughs at them both before getting up to go fetch another jar of pickles from the pantry, holding her growing belly and waving off her husband's attempts to help.

“Rabbit’s better eating,” Tommy points out, returning to the subject at hand.

Ellie pops a stringbean into her mouth, clearly in a good mood. “But their hides are useful. Don’t have to bury them.”

The moment after she says this is like a lightning flash, and your reaction matches hers as you both freeze, realizing what she’s just accidentally said.

“Squirrels are faster, smaller, better target practice,” you say, clearing your throat, trying to act casual.

Tommy shrugs and nods, agreeing, oblivious, going to town on his ear of corn.

But Joel’s gone still, staring you down across the table, then casts a glance at Ellie…and her arm.

Shit.

Tommy and Maria are blissfully unaware of Joel’s turn for the quiet during the rest of the meal, not that he’d been very talkative to begin with. But the hesitant glances and shy smiles are gone now, replaced with a restrained patience and a few calculating glances.

It’s Maria’s turn to wash and Tommy’s to dry and yours to clear the table. But with every trip into the kitchen, you glance through the window over the sink into the yard where Joel and Ellie are having a spirited conversation under the tree at the far end.

'Spirited conversation' might be too polite a term. More like a one-sided lecture. Soon enough you have the table wiped down and you’re making a bee-line out the back door while Tommy and Maria argue about the best technique for drying a glass.

“That is not okay,” Joel hisses, trying to keep his voice low, giving Ellie’s shoulder a rough shake. “What if something went wrong? Huh? You could have burned down to the bone!”

“Joel, Joel, hey,” you whisper as you come to complete the triad. “Don’t. She confided in me. It was my idea.”

Nostrils flaring, lips pressed together, head wagging, he glares. “Of all the reckless, stupid….”

“I wanted to!” Ellie pleads, and you shut her down.

“That’s true, but Joel’s right and I knew it. I shouldn’t have–”

“If you tell anyone–” he warns, his eyes going full retribution against you--a hot coil ready to spring--and it petrifies you, takes you by the heart and squeezes.

“She won’t! Joel!”

“She’d better not.”

It’s a tense moment, one that surprises you. Scares you. In the months you’ve known him, Joel’s been a quiet and withdrawn creature, opening up in increments as you’ve done your best to build your trust, taming him slowly week after week, hoping for nothing more than having him someday eating out of your palm, pushing his cheek into your hand for gentle reassurance…

But in one fell swoop you’re back at the starting line–beyond the starting line. The papa bear in him is showing, bearing its teeth, and you’ve spent too much time among sheep, forgetting the valuable lesson that wild animals can never truly be tamed.

“I will burn this place to the ground if you ever hurt another hair on her head.” The quiet threat is feral and stinging and steals your breath before it’s over.

The things he’s capable of...those things are here and now and he could do them all to you before you had the chance to run.

The way he looks at you pulls the heat from the earth.

Before you can break from your paralysis, they’re gone, Joel pushing Ellie out of the yard toward home.

The stars are coming out. If there are crickets, you don’t hear them. Every sense seems to have shifted into neutral. Except breathing. That comes back with a hunger.

“Joel and Ellie take off?” Tommy calls from the window.

“Yeahhhh,” you call back without turning. “Tired. The heat. Think I might head home too.”

“Take a jar of these pickles. We have too many and Maria can't stomach them right now. I’ve got pickles coming out my damn ears.”

“Okay. Thanks, T. Pickles. Will do."

________

The following few days are...confusing. You should go out and grab some supplies on the main street, but actually fear running into Joel or Ellie. It’s stupid, and it makes you angry; it’s not that you’re afraid of him, it’s just…

You’re disappointed in yourself. Because everything’s upset now. Sure, you wanted to get close to them, but you overstepped, put Ellie in danger, made Joel feel unsafe. Everyone should feel safe in Jackson. Everyone should feel safe in the meadow. And you took that away from him.

Joel.

Why him? What about him do you need to have so badly? Why do you feel the need to fix him? To give him that safety?

Because Joel and Ellie so badly need a home. And you have an excess of home within you.

And little else.

You’ve never been lonely before. Why now?

Something about them….just fits.

Or so you thought. Or may have thought. Before you ruined it.

It’s better to just sit home and knit. Winter will be here soon enough and people need sweaters, dammit. You have a job to do.

But you can’t stay hidden away forever, especially not when there’s a wedding in the community.

________

“Bear, Missy, you’ve said your vows in front of all of us here tonight. We are all witness to your commitment. All in agreement, say aye!”

“AYE!”

“And those of you who want to spoil this good time, say nay!”

Bear’s brother pipes up from the side of the mess hall. “Nay!”

“Shut up, you asshole,” Bear laughs.

“Perfection is tempting devils!” his brother teases.

“Let ‘em come,” Bear shouts. “I’ll tear ‘em all down for my lady love, the prettiest girl in Jackson!” There’s applause and laughter as he kisses his new bride and the mood shifts as he roars, “Drinking and dancing!!!”

“Ugh. Good thing Willa isn’t here to see this. She’d be so annoyed.” Maria yells in your ear over the din as you huddle around your favorite table at the back of the hall. “I thought Missy would never settle down.”

“Bear must earn his name in the sack,” you crack back at her, and she clinks her glass against yours in agreement.

Tommy and Joel sit across the table from you, facing away toward the front. But when Tommy turns to join in the conversation, Joel remains facing out to the crowd, watching as tables are pushed to the side to make a dance floor, quietly pulling sips from a frothy cider.

He’s still pissed at you.

“Where’s Ellie?” you ask Tommy, not even attempting to address the wall of Joel-shaped ice.

“Over beyond, with the other big kids.”

You don’t turn to look, but Joel does after hearing the comment, before turning back to watch the crowd.

A band strikes up. Friends stop by and chat. Some of Tommy and Joel’s work friends come and take over the table–the boys all getting loud and rowdy–so you and Maria escape to the edge of the dance floor, beverages in hand, dancing–but not really–in place.

“What’s going on?” Maria finally asks over the music and the general glee.

“Hmm?”

“You two keep watching each other, but you’re not talking. What’s going on.”

You can’t keep from glancing over at the table…again. You weren’t aware of him taking any interest in you though.

“We had an argument the other day. I think I fucked things up.”

She pulls a face, comically surprised. “I would have guessed the other way around, but okay. You push him too hard or something?”

“Something like that.”

Glancing back over her shoulder at Joel and then back at you, Maria gives you her lawyer face. “He’ll come around. Tommy says he’s the last person to apologize for anything and if he does, you know it means a big deal. But if you’re willing to extend the olive branch first, that can go a long way.”

“Well, maybe not tonight,” you sigh, stealing a glance, watching as he drains his glass. “He’s had a few.”

But you can’t even convince yourself, handing your drink to Maria as Joel sets down his glass, slaps the table and pushes himself up, leaning forward to wish his buddies a good night. You follow him out of the mess hall like some lovestruck teenager strung out on a last hope.

“Joel. Joel!” Catching up with him halfway down the block, the light and noise from the party still follows as you get out in front of him. “Joel, stop. I have to apologize to you. Please let me.”

Though he’s backlit, you can still make out his tired glare. “Don’t. It’s not necessary.”

“Of course it is. Ellie’s important to you. You're her guardian. It wasn’t my call to make. I’m sorry.”

He waits a moment before throwing you an irritated prompt. “But?”

“But? I don’t know. She was hot in that long sleeve shirt and she showed me her arm–I can’t imagine what she went through. I just felt for her. But I did have a gut reaction when she showed me, Joel. Anyone would, but most wouldn’t hesitate for long. And those bites could get her killed. All I wanted was for her to be free from that. To be a kid. I’d say I wasn’t thinking, but...I was, Joel. Fuck was I thinking. I was thinking about her just being a kid and not getting killed.”

“Is that all?”

“Yeah, I guess. Except… I really don’t want you to punish her for my decision. She loves it out there. She thrives. And if you don’t trust me, my offer stands. Come with us. See for yourself.”

A huffed laugh. “Yeah? Do I get a callsign then?”

Your fatal flaw is jumping to the joke and the playful tease too soon, as you do now, anticipating his forgiveness. “Of course you do, grey fox.”

And that’s when he reaches out, pulls you close with strong hands.

Which would be exhilarating, if it wasn’t too close. And if his breath didn’t smell of cider.

“Why don’t you just take what you want,” he growls, quietly, coldly, jaw set, lips hardly moving.

It’s not fear that pings up your spine–now that you’ve had a taste of his anger and gotten over the initial shock from the other night, you know Joel won’t hurt you, not here, not as part of your found family, he knows better–

It’s bitter disappointment.

“What?”

His grip tightens, digs in. “It’s obvious what you want. Just go ahead. We’re both fucking lonely enough and I’m too old for games.”

He’s right here with you in the dark, his breath on your lips, your fingers twisting into the shoulders of his tshirt…but it’s wrong. It’s so wrong. And it’s hurting.

So you slowly push off his chest.

And the light from the mess hall hits your face again; something there causes his shoulders to drop, causes him to let you go.

A cheer rises up from the celebration that you’ve left behind, that you don’t feel like returning to, but neither can you be alone right now, so it’s likely your only choice.

“I’m not playing games, Joel. I never was. I like you. A lot. Both you and Ellie. I just didn’t want to spook you. But...I also don’t want someone who doesn’t want me. So…maybe I read you wrong. Or maybe we need different things.”

“What do you need?” It almost falls out of him, uncontrolled, unemotional, a gathering of facts.

And your answer comes the same way, surprising you as you’re sure his own question surprised himself.

“A home.”

It’s a quiet night, perfectly warm. You’re sure if you went home right now, the fireflies–the good kind–would be out in the back yard.

Instead, you give him a shellshocked nod–of finality, of punctuation–and follow your feet back toward the light, toward happiness and love that you can’t share at the moment. And you don’t look back.

________

When you don’t show up for family dinner that week, Maria comes knocking the next day.

Knocks, yes, but does not wait for an answer. In sisterly fashion, she makes straight for your wool room and sits calmly on the edge on the daybed there, staring at you as you mend a hole in a sweater.

“Missed you at our table last night.”

“I know.”

It doesn’t matter how hard she stares, you continue to avoid it and concentrate on the work in your hands.

“That was an invitation for you to explain.”

“I’m aware.”

“Girl–”

“I’m not getting along with Joel right now. Ellie has…this thing on her arm that she doesn’t want anyone to know about. You notice how she would wear long sleeves even in the heat? I felt bad for her. So I… suggested…the lye.”

This doesn't faze her. “It was on purpose. And Joel found out. I see.” Leaning back into the pillows with a pregnant grunt, she swings her feet up onto the daybed. “Is hiding helping? You know we all know where you live, right?”

“Are you really putting your muddy shoes on my quilt?”

“So you’re just going to avoid him.”

You squint at the binding. “I’m gonna have to raid the commissary for some better glasses. My eyesight’s getting out of hand.”

“You’re going to avoid us. Me and Tommy and Ellie.”

Letting out a huge sigh, you concede to her tenacity because she won’t stop until she gets what she wants. “For now.” When her tongue clicks, you finally look up. “Listen. I apologized and he’s still mad. I agree with you that he’ll get over it, but he hasn’t yet, and that means I haven’t either. And I’m not as good at turning on my bitch face as that one is.”

“So we shouldn’t expect you next week either.”

“Nope,” you pout, tackling the sweater again with focused frustration. “I traded with Goldie. Going out a week early.”

“You’re running away.”

“I’m stressed out and I need to not be here, yes!” You admit, throwing down the knitting. “What is the big deal? I don’t have to get along with everyone in Jackson! You don’t!”

You understand that flat look from her, known it since you were kids. She’s counting to 10, giving you the chance to calm down so one of you can speak the truth and speak it calmly.

“But you want to get along with Joel.”

Of course she was going to say that. Because it’s what you’re thinking and not wanting to say out loud and she can read you like a book.

“Yeah. I really do. You know I do.”

“Okay,” she says, pushing herself up with effort and crossing the room to kiss her fingers and press–nay, slap–them to your forehead before heading out. “Go on and go to your happy place. Go calm down in your little clubhouse. I was just worried about you is all. Brought you leftovers. They’re on the counter.”

“Thanks. You’re too good to me. As always. Love you.”

“I know. As always. Love you too.”

________

At the end of the week you’re up early, your pack and rations slung over your back, pistol on one hip, making your way to the stables while the town’s still quiet, before anyone can notice you going. Your boots crunch on the dirt road in lieu of the birdsong from those lazy bitches not even up yet, the dawnlight casting Jackson in blues and blacks, like a new-world mid-era Picasso.

The problem is, you know all of these blues and blacks, all these shapes and shadows. There’s a new one this morning, something leaning up against the stable door.

And it’s shaped like a fourteen year old girl with a couple of bags.

As you approach, Ellie tips away from the wall, standing upright, waiting until you come to a stop in front of her.

“Joel said I could go with you.”

“It’s a week early.”

“Yep.”

It’s too early in the morning for exasperated sighs, but here you are. “Maria or Tommy?”

“Tommy.”

“Figures. Big fucking mouth.”

“Yep.”

She waits patiently for it to sink in.

Once it does, you pull the walkie off your belt.

“Meadowlark to Chickadee. ETA 30, towing a Starling in behind me.”

________

“So what did you say to him to get him to change his mind?” Ellie takes your fishing rod so you can pull off your boots and roll up your pants.

“Me? I figured it was you said something.” Wading out into the stream at this little ripple point is harder than it looks. The rocks are sharper here, full of crannys that are equally as good for fish to hide in as they are to turn an ankle. It doesn’t help that the setting sun is throwing shadows that make it harder to determine what’s what. “I haven’t talked to him in weeks. Not since Bear’s wedding. Keep that line taut.”

“According to Maria, you haven’t talked to anyone lately.”

“I had knitting to do,” a dismissal as you follow the line out into the current. “There are hardly any weeds out here; what did this dang hook snag on? A rock?”

“Well, he finally admitted that masking the scar was a good thing. I told him I want to get a tattoo over it. He said no.”

You laugh, tugging at the line, teetering on a flatter stone. “Of course he did. But that’s a good thing. Tattoo’s a permanent mark. Good to have an excuse to think long and hard about what you’d want. Willa’s great with nature stuff. She could probably do you a bird or a tree or something.”

“I was thinking maybe the moon. Or like, a machete.”

“Of course you were. Oh, oh... hang on, I think I’ve found it.” Reaching down under one of the rocks, you follow the fishing line, but it doesn’t seem to have an end. “Well, where the hell?”

“Uhhhhh,” Ellie points to the water at your feet. “I think it found you.”

A fine red ribbon of blood floats away on the current and you follow it upstream to your foot. More specifically, the inner part of your big toe. “Well shit. Did I just catch my own damn self?”

“Catch of the day!” Ellie laughs. “I bet you fry up real tough. Does it hurt?”

“Didn’t even feel it, water’s too cold. Get your knife and cut the line so I don’t get all tangled.”

Once you’re back on shore and take stock, it’s obvious some tools are needed. “Run and get me the wire cutting pliers, the vinegar jug, and the first aid kit, will you?”

Ellie’s off like a shot on youthful legs, making short work of the errand while you keep your foot in the stream and tend to her line. But once she’s back and opens the kit, her face twists into a frown. “Aren’t there supposed to be bandages in here?”

“What?” Snipping the hook in two you slide it out the easy way as Ellie watches in morbid fascination. “There’s not?”

“Nope. Plenty of cleanser and some needle and thread, but no bandages.”

“Shit. I suppose we never restocked it after Willa set you up. Well, I’ll just have to bleed into my sock for the time being and find something up at the Roost.” Ellie moves to help you, but you hold a hand up and go for the walkie. “Hey. Meadowlark to Goldie.”

The walkie comes to life, garbled, full of noise.

“Goldie? Meadowlark to Goldfinch.”

A couple of seconds pass. “Sorry, Goldfinch here. Was in the tavern and there’s an arm wrestling competition in there. Lots of yelling.”

“Really? Who’s winning?”

“Right now it’s Bear. What’s up?”

“Oh, I never restocked the first aid kit after Ellie’s mishap and we’re needing clean bandages. Can you send some along on patrol tomorrow?”

“Sure. Everything alright out there?”

“Yeah, I just stepped on a fishhook.”

“Well, why the hell did you do that?”

“You know, the usual. Shits and giggles.”

“You do you. Don’t ever change. I’ll send some supplies along.”

“Thanks. Put a wager down on Bear for me. Meadowlark out.”

“Will do. Goldfinch gone.”

“Alright, kid,” you groan, hanging onto her shoulder and pulling yourself up, “Bring in your line and let’s take what we got and get a supper going.”

________

The next day, you drop a few old carrots over the balcony railing. “Ellie! Take these with you! You’ll tame that skittish one sooner or later; keep trying!”

The girl scoops up the veggies and trudges out through the pasture, heavy not with the task of doing the rounds by herself but due to the heat. At least she can wear short sleeves now, even if the bandage gets questions. But you suspect she enjoys the clout and attention she gets out of the burn.

Thank goodness she’s here. Your injury gets angry when you walk. So Ellie's tasked with the rounds and taking stock while you elevate the foot and get caught up on some spinning.

Not that there’s any hurry to do so. As you lean on your arms against the balcony railing a little breeze kicks up. Content for the moment, you let it bring you a little coolness, a little movement, the rising and falling music of this year’s batch of cicadas. The meadow's pretty this summer, all purples and reds, festooned with lupine and Indian paintbrush and the air at the Roost smelling like the pines that grow around it.

“Patrol to Meadowlark.”

Damn. You left the walkie on the table inside. Guess the decision’s been made for you to get your ass moving. That’ll be a delivery coming in and you hobble on over to answer.

"Patrol here. You there, Meadowlark?"

“Sorry. Meadowlark here.”

“Sending Joel Miller in with supplies at the north gate.”

That’s…not what you expected. But…wow. Really? Has your heart stopped, or is it just going really fast?

“Put him on the walkie.”

Who cares what you’re heart’s doing, your face is gonna cramp from the smile.

“Hey. It’s me,” he answers, gentle, penitent.

“Me who.”

“Joel.”

So he's olive branching first. Well, he'll have to earn it.

“Yeah, about that, we have procedures around here. Callsign or bust, sir.”

You can almost hear his eyes rolling, but it sounds like he’s up for the challenge.

“Seriously.”

“Sure.”

“Jesus. This is…Grey Fox. Coming in at the north gate. Happy?”

“I will be. Meadowlark out.”

Tottering gingerly back out to the balcony, you land heavily on the old green broke-down sofa. There’s no need to bring the rifle. Even if he was being pursued by a pack of raging clickers, Joel is certain to carry a gun, and certain to use it confidently.

A few slow minutes tick by in the sun and a cicada buzzes in from nowhere to attach itself to one of the balcony supports. The big bug breathes for a minute, its iridescent wings still twitching with the effort of hoisting that bulky little body.

And then, in your eyeline just past the cicada, there’s movement.

Joel coming out of the north woods.

He’s on foot. Green plaid and jeans wading through the flowered fields. With his shirtsleeves rolled up on purpose to let those brown arms and big hands of his swing. With not just the one, but two rifles on his back? Isn’t that a bit overkill?

Wait. One of them’s not a rifle. It’s…a guitar.

Well. Someone’s planned to make himself at home.

Your smile earns more real estate.

Good.

Soon he’s close enough for you to make out his grey curls shifting in the breeze. Then he disappears under the Roost, only to transform into the sound of heavy footfalls on the ladder.

Propping your chin on your forearms crossed over the back of the sofa, you watch through the front windows as he steps into the room and takes it in with a carpenter’s eye. He stops in silent appreciation, gaze scrolling the woodwork, the joints, posts, slope of the peak. The woodstove catches his notice and he taps the tile beneath it with his boot, his interest trailing up the pipe, squinting at the trap around the exhaust. His bottom lip pushes up in approval and he nods, surveying the windows now…and stops when he sees you.

“Hey there, Cinnamon Roll. Welcome to the Roost.”

A half-hidden smile. Without a word, he untangles himself out of his gear, digging through his knapsack and retrieving a box before coming out onto the balcony and making his way over to you. Swiping a hand through the air, he motions for you to move your knee so he can sit beside you, then pulls your foot up into his lap and takes a look over your makeshift bandage–the sleeve of an old blouse–before starting to unwrap it.

It hurts. But you let him.

"Who told you I needed a first aid kit?"

"Was at the tavern when Goldie got the call. Heard it myself. Where’s Ellie?”

“She’s making the rounds. Just left before you came in."

He grunts an acknowledgement, focusing on your toe, moving it so he can assess the wound a little better. A little wince; he can tell it hurts. Grabbing a tiny bottle of cleansing agent and a fresh bandage, he gets to work.

“Just so you know,” he grumbles, “we don’t have a lot of antibiotics just sitting around. You shouldn’t let this stuff fester.”

He must see your smirk from the corner of his eye. He matches it with his own.

“You using my words against me now, Dr. Miller?”

“Not at all. Just passing on some valuable knowledge that was gifted to me.”

He works quietly, carefully wrapping the toe, then your foot, splinting it in a way that should make it easier to walk on. Obviously not the first time he’s cared for a wound. He must have seen a lot out there in his wilder days.

“This one was truly an accident. For real this time,” you attest.

But his smile burns off to the stone underneath.

His sincerity precedes him. “I’m sorry.”

An apology. From Joel Miller. For what? Not trusting you? Keeping Ellie away? Speaking to you the way he did? You assume it’s all of the above. But it isn’t necessary to ask for clarification; you only want to put the missteps behind you and get on with leaning on each other.

“You’re staying, right?”

He nods once to you, then to the sofa. “This where I’m sleeping?”

“I mean, if you want one of our beds, that’s fine, you’ll just have to fight us for it. In which case, you might as well give up now.”

“No, it’s okay. It’ll be like sleeping under the stars.” He stares out at the mountains over the meadow, watching the shadow of a cloud roll over it, your foot warm between his hands, a thumb absently rubbing at the bandage. “This is nice out here. Quiet. I’m not used to it. But it’s good.”

“Yeah, I’ll admit I do better with some wide open spaces. And fewer people to share it with.”

Two lines form above the bridge of his nose. “Ellie told me about your ranch. Your family. I’m sorry to hear it.”

“It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t worth being sorry.”

He's got you there. “Everyone’s lost something. Someone. Several someones. The whole world’s a little sorry. But I appreciate it. It means we’re all in it together, those of us left." You make a study of him, his solemn nod, the way the sun glints off his watch. “I’m glad you took me up on my invitation, Joel. It’ll be nice having you here, being out here together.”

And then he turns to you, making his own study of you, as if watching your clouds roll away too.

“I agree.”

________

“Now, the E7 is the same as the E, you just pick up that third finger. Good. Now let’s do a three-four, E7, A, E.”

As the sun starts to set, your eyes have had enough of the spindle for one day and you’re cleaning up while Joel and Ellie muck around with his guitar out on the balcony. She’s a quick study, even if some of the chords are more difficult than others for her small hands, and it’s obvious he’s been working with her on it for a while.

Using a walking stick that Joel made from a pine branch–stripping the bark and wrapping one end with duct tape for a sliverless handle–you put together a little plate of berries and cheese, sling a thermos full of sun tea under your arm, and head out to the balcony.

“That's it. Thumb, wrist, wrist,” Joel coaches Ellie in a waltz strum as you hand off the treats to him and take a spot at the railing for one last survey of the meadow before the twilight goes. “That’s good. Keep that up, just like that. Hey there, songbird,” he drawls at you, “you know any Hank Williams?”

Rather than turn to him with a smile, you give it to the meadow, but let him hear it in your voice. “Do I? My dad grew up in Montana in the 50s and 60s. What do you think I was raised on?”

“Well go on then. You should know this one.”

Now that you’re truly listening and realize the chords he’s been working her through, you certainly do.

Ellie must have told him how you like to sing out here. So you do.

“Hear that lonesome whippoorwill, He sounds too blue to fly. The midnight train is whining low, I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Joel encourages Ellie to keep going, and to add a B7 in at the end. “Go on,” he prompts to you when you turn around, smiling blithely as his two girls make him a pretty song to listen to.

“I've never seen a night so long When time goes crawling by. The moon just went behind the clouds To hide its face and cry.

“Did you ever see a robin weep When leaves begin to die? That means he's lost the will to live; I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

“The next verse is the last one, so play her out on some single rising notes and hit the final chord.”

Ellie bites her bottom lip and nods, taking the cue, but she doesn’t need to look at her hands anymore as she’s getting the hang of it, and instead smiles as you take on her favorite subject.

“The silence of a falling star Lights up a purple sky, And as I wonder where you are… I'm so lonesome I could cry.”

Her outro could use a little work, but it suffices and you give her due applause. “How are those fingers doing?”

She takes stock of her hands. “Look. Calluses.”

“You’ve got some work to do before you can call those welts calluses,” Joel teases.

“Well, I think she’s earned a treat. I didn’t bring those out here for you to hoard ‘em.”

Ellie balances the guitar against the arm rest and Joel hands over the plate, stealing a cherry and popping it into his mouth. Bringing her feet up, Ellie rests the plate on her knees and settles against Joel’s shoulder, smiling, content, proud of her progress, eating her reward and watching the night come on.

It’s such an intimate father-daughter scene that you’re about to go indoors and let them enjoy the view together. But then Joel moves his foot slightly as if to block your path. Catches your eye. Drapes his free arm over the back of the sofa and glances pointedly at his free shoulder, then back at you with a jerk of his head as if to say, You too, get in here, this one’s yours.

You do not have to be told twice.

Settling in with a long sigh, you don’t pay much attention as Ellie starts recounting everything she knows and doesn’t know about the first moon landing. You’re more interested in the way your cheek fits into Joel’s shoulder, and how his arm lays heavy and warm over yours, how his chest rumbles when he answers Ellie’s questions and laughs at her sass. How the shadows spill over the butte and pull through everything until they are everything.

And you notice how the moonlight reflects off the plate in Ellie’s hand, off the tuning keys of the guitar…and yet…it’s missing in one place it should be.

Joel’s wrists are bare.

Joel is laughing. And his wrists are bare.

________

Picking up his watch where it’s been living on the little table all week, you pack it into Joel’s knapsack on the last morning before heading out.

“Goldie’ll be here soon. You see Joel come back from the rounds yet?”

Ellie shakes her head as she’s packing her bag. “Nope. Went out an hour or two ago. You want me to go get him?”

Taking his bag and your own to the balcony, you throw them over the side to the forest floor below. “I’ll go. Been on my ass all week. I could use the walk.” You hand her the walkie on the way out, trusting her to take the incoming hail.

Fastest way to find someone on rounds is to walk the opposite direction, so you head south to the stream.

You don’t have to go far.

A group of sheep have gathered in the grass halfway between the Roost and the water, lazing peacefully as if gathered for a little tea party, and you can guess what they’re all discussing.

There, in the middle of their protective huddle, is the man you’ve been waiting for all this time; shoes off, one arm slung above his head, asleep in the sun and the warm, fragrant grass, as if he grabbed your description of the meadow and ran with it, needing the nap of a lifetime.

At first you keep your distance, not wanting to startle him. But then you realize that it might take more than your approach and a couple soft bleats from a lamb to wake him.

Especially with his good ear turned to the ground like that.

Safe. Warm. Content.

Goldie will be coming soon, but you’ll be able to see her from here. No need to wake him yet.

There’s time enough to just sit and shade his face from the sun, watch the steady rise and fall of his hand on his belly, and whisper a little prayer of thanks to the earth and wind and sky–hell, even to the sheep–that Joel and Ellie found their way to Jackson.

And that you found your way to them.

Good. Everyone's got a good reason to keep going then.

________

Lyrics from "I'm So Lonesome I Could Cry" by Hank Williams

PREVIOUS: SPRING

NEXT: AUTUMN

MASTERLIST

SERIES MASTERLIST

(artwork by @stealyourblorbos)

#leave off your wandering #tlou fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x meadowlark

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late-to-the-party-81 · 1 year

Text

Power Play - Chapter 1

AN: And here is Week 5 of HBS and the start of a new multi-chapter fic, this one a Bucky x Reader story, cos I like to give you all some variety. This also strays into Soft!Dark! Territory, cos, you know… Mob! Bucky. Thanks @buckybarnesevents for the inspo.

I’ve chosen the prompt When I first met you... Electricity

Beta’d by @buckysbarne

Dividers by @firefly-graphics and banner by me. Pictures of Seb courtesy of https://sebastian-stan.com/

Master list | Hot Bucky Summer Master list

Summary: Waking up in a mobster’s house the morning after the night before was not how this was supposed to go…

Relationship: Mob! Bucky x Undercover Agent! Reader

WC: 2.3k

CW: Kidnap, Manipulation, Soft!Dark! Bucky, Alcohol consumption, Reader briefly believes Bucky will force her against her will (use of R word once), kissing, Russian Pet names as mangled by Google translate (all variations of sweetheart/darling except Pchelka, which is explained.)

Your head was foggy and your mouth grainy as you opened your eyes, blinking against the harshness of the late morning sun coming through the window.

“Good morning, Pchelka.” Strong fingers gripping your chin and pinching your jaw harshly, brought you out of your stupor, and you looked up at the owner of the gravelly voice.

“Did you sleep well? I slept like a log. I’m going to say that it was because of the connection we made last night.” He chuckled darkly. “Did you feel it, sladkiy? The electricity when I first took your hand in mine? Because I did.” His body shivered at the memory, and you felt a fission of fear travel down your spine.

His eyes were blue - cool and chilling - and you wished you were looking at them under different circumstances. Wished you were here with him under different circumstances, because although he was your enemy, you weren’t blind.

James Buchanan ‘Bucky’ Barnes. Revered head of the New York Mob, and so sinfully handsome it was no wonder that men and women swooned at his feet.

“Are you going to answer me, Pchelka?”

His brow was arched, amusement still playing at his lips. Challenging you to defy him.

“I’m not your ‘little bee’. And I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He let your face go with a snort that told you that he knew you were lying. Because you were. How could you not have felt it, when your slim hand had been completely engulfed by his when you’d been introduced? When he’d raised your hand, gently turning it to press a kiss to the fluttering vein in your wrist.

You should have known then that you were fucked. Should have called the whole thing off and got out of there.

But no. You’d decided that you had to stay - had to pull your big girl pants up, get a hold of yourself and prove to everyone else that you were capable of carrying out this mission. You wondered if your colleagues, your fellow agents, were trying to actually rescue you, or were they laughing at your ineptitude?

Barnes crossed to the far side of the room, a classic dark wood office with floor-to-ceiling bookcases filled with leather-bound tomes. Turkish wool rugs covered the wooden floor that matched all of the furniture. He picked up a decanter, poured a hefty measure of amber liquid into a matching tumbler and brought it up to his lips. You didn’t even realise that you were watching him that intently until he smirked.

He walked back over to you, power and grace showing with every move of his body. He sank into a crouch before you, dipped his finger into the alcohol and then painted it over your lips. Instinctually you licked it away, and the whisky burned on your tongue.

“They think you’re dead, by the way.” That got your attention, making you halt with your mouth part open, tongue tip still midway through catching the errant drops he’d applied. His finger returned to the glass, then back to your lips once again as you sat, stock still.

A sudden anger burned through you, and you tried to leap to your feet, but you hadn’t counted on the bonds that tied you to the chair. You struggled against them, hands curling into fists and feet ineffectually kicking as you let out a wail of frustration.

“Tsk tsk.” Barnes admonished you for your reaction as he stood and backed up to rest against the edge of his, no doubt antique, desk. “And here I was thinking you’d be more grateful. If you’d continued in that job you’d have died of boredom, milyy. Just think. I’ve actually saved you.” He took another sip of his drink, observing you and you wanted to shrink under his gaze - you had to look a mess.

Your evening gown, which had looked stunning on you when you’d gotten ready for this op, was now torn and filthy. Your nail polish was chipped, a couple of the nails torn, and no doubt your makeup was smeared across your face. Somewhere along the line, you’d lost your shoes, or had they been taken from you? Admittedly a lot of it was a blur and you’d also been unconscious for some time, only waking up once you were here, tied to this chair, a smirking Barnes looking down on you.

Conversely, he looked so put together it should be illegal. Last night he’d smouldered in a dinner suit, but this morning he exuded power and danger. His shirt was black, with two opened buttons, showing off the silver rope chain around his neck. His suit jacket and pants were also black but covered with a wide pinstriped check. He had a large signet ring on the pinky of his left hand, and silver and black onyx ring on the adjacent ring finger, and it was hard to take your eyes off them. His pants were tight across his crotch, leaving little to the imagination, and he’d finished off his outfit with a pair of patent black boots and a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses, perched on his head. In a nutshell, he was sex personified and you needed to get your head back in the game before you did something you’d regret.

“You’re deluded, you know that?”

“Focused, Pchelka. Not deluded. I didn’t get where I am now without knowing what I wanted and taking it. And I want you. I think you want me too.”

It was your turn to snort, and you didn’t bother to hide your derision. “In your dreams!”

He was back in front of you in an instant, his beringed fingers curling into the leather chair back, his face millimetres from your own.

“I don’t think I imagined how you trembled when you were in my arms, lyubimyy. When I led you around the dance floor and you felt as though you were made to fit in my embrace. I don’t think I imagined how you sighed and leaned against me as I spoke soft words in your ears.”

Heat burned your cheeks and you tried for some bravado.

“All an act, I assure you. As you know, you were my mark.”

His mouth broke into a feral grin and, for the first time, you were worried. Worried about what he had in store for you… and worried that you might like it.

“You keep telling yourself that. I don’t think you’ll be able to maintain that lie when you’re screaming my name later.”

“I didn’t know your name was Rapist.”

He moved one hand from the back of the chair to rest at the base of your throat, fingers applying just enough pressure to remind you who was in control here.

“Don’t insult both of us, Pchelka. When I take you, you will welcome it. Want it. You will be begging me to make you mine. And I think it will happen sooner than you think.” His voice was a hypnotic whisper, and you could feel yourself spiralling, enchanted by the power that he exuded from every pore, so when he kissed you, you were unprepared.

Barnes used the thumb of the hand he had around your neck to tip your chin up. His pink, sinful lips demanded entry efficiently and you were powerless to resist. His mouth explored yours, tongues tangling, and when he teasingly broke the kiss you were horrified to find that you were whimpering.

Your captor just continued to smile, animalistic and condescending.

“Electric, as I said. You betray yourself without even meaning too. It’s a good thing that I’m a nice man, and I’m not torturing you for information. You wouldn’t last five minutes.”

Feelings of anger, shame and embarrassment rose within you. He was right, god damn it. You weren’t cut out for this work. You knew it. He knew it. The people you worked with knew it. Backroom paper shuffling was where you excelled, but there was no way you could’ve turned down the opportunity for undercover work, because success would have meant a level of recognition and respect that you could never have hoped, to gain otherwise, even if the op was a classic, and somewhat demeaning, honey-trap.

You closed your eyes and willed the tears not to fall.

“Please, Mr Barnes. Just let me go. I don’t know anything. Nothing has happened here that can’t be forgotten.”

“Call me Bucky, lyubimaya. And I don’t want to let you go, or forget you. Stay here with me. Leave those narrow-minded idiots you work for. I would treat you with the respect you deserve. And you wouldn’t just be on my arm and in my bed, you would be by my side. You have useful skills that shouldn’t be wasted.”

Your eyes snapped back open and looked at him in surprise and confusion. “What do you mean?”

Barnes - Bucky - ran the knuckles of his left hand down your cheek, the coldness of his rings a balm to your heated flesh. Tattoos peeked out from under his sleeve, twisting and winding down his skin, and onto his fingers. Vines and flowers and thorns. Letters of the Cyrillic alphabet.

“You think that I would bring you here, to the seat of my power if I didn’t already know every… little… thing… about you? I know what your role was before you started this ill-advised op. I know where you lived. I know what cereal you like for breakfast and what your regular coffee order is. You’re always flitting too and fro, concentrating on work. Busy as a bee.”

You weren’t sure why you weren’t shocked, but you asked him all the same. “There’s a mole inside my unit?”

“Of course, Pchelka. There’s always a mole. Always someone who is more than willing to trade loyalty for power and money, or someone who is so desperate that they can be easily persuaded. Desperate people do desperate things, and tell themselves they aren’t really the bad ones, it’s just their circumstances.”

Both his hands had now settled on your waist, the size of them making you feel smaller than you often thought of yourself. Bucky himself was still on his knees, between your bound, spread legs, his torso virtually pressed against your inner thighs. You absently noticed that the knife you’d placed in a thigh holder was missing. No doubt Bucky or his men had found it almost straight away once you’d been rendered unconscious. You hoped it had been the man in front of you - the idea of being touched in such an intimate place by someone other than him was abhorrent. A part of you wondered why you didn’t think that him touching you was also horrifying.

“And which one do you think I am? Disloyal or desperate?” You arched your brow, trying to ignore the way his fingers were branding you through the satin of your dress.

“You, milyy, are a secret third thing. You are an intelligent woman, who makes decisions based on all the information available. It’s not disloyalty if you’ve been betrayed first. It’s also not desperation that would make you join me if I have no pressure point - no sick aunt, no cousin in debt to a loan shark, that sort of thing. If you joined me it would be because you wanted to. Because you saw the merits of such an action.”

You had to admit, his offer was tempting. You hated your job and you hated your co-workers. It was still a ‘boy’s club’ and all the inclusion and diversity training in the world couldn’t counteract the toxic masculinity that the job attracted. You hated that, despite putting up with this job for so many years, you were still living in a crappy apartment with too long a commute to work.. You hated that, despite the fact you never even got around to taking your PTO, you also weren’t making any decent deposits into your savings account. Okay, you weren’t quite living paycheck to paycheck, but you were by no means where you thought you’d be by now.

The long hours also meant little time to socialise, and the friends you’d once had, had all dropped away one by one as you’d cancelled one social engagement after another. This also meant that your love life was, as the song goes, DOA, and after a while, all the toys in the world failed to satisfy. Which also meant that the feeling of soft, expensive wool, encasing a warm, hard body, rubbing against your inner thighs was upsetting your equilibrium quite a bit.

Then, as if he knew exactly what he was doing to you, his face dipped closer again, his breath, tinged with whisky, fanning over you.

“Imagine how it would feel, Pchelka. The power. The pleasure. You’d want for nothing. Every need would be met. Every whim indulged.”

It was your turn to shiver and as your eyes fluttered closed again you heard him chuckle.

“You want it, don’t you. You want me and everything I can give you. It’s okay to want those things. I want things as well. I want you, lyubimyy. I’ve waited a long time for a Queen.”

“You don’t know me…” Your denial was whispered, and even you didn’t believe what you’d said.

“But I do. I know exactly what you need...”

His lips captured yours once more, but this time you didn’t even pretend not to respond. You drank him in as though he would quench your thirst and you only remembered your bonds again when your body strained against them. Your knees managed to dig into his waist though, and you felt him smile against your lips.

His hands slid from your waist, to one wrist and then the other, freeing them. You threw your arms around his neck, not even trying to get away. In any case, your ankles were still bound.

Your fingers brushed over the short hair on the sides and back of his head, the strands prickling your skin. His own hands were now cupping your face as he continued to kiss you, and you knew what was going to happen. You were falling under his spell.

Chapter 2

Tag list: @jobean12-blog @bucky-bucky-bucky-bucky @tuiccim @sidepartskinnyjeans @flordeamatista @bodeckersdiamonddoll @goldylions @luxeavenger @wheezy-stucky @doasyoudesireandlive @chemtrails-club @seitmai @peaches1958 @pono-pura-vida @writing-for-marvel

#hot bucky summer #bucky barnes x fem!reader #bucky barnes x female reader #mob!bucky x reader #mob!bucky #late writes

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nekoannie-chan · 1 year

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Tristes memorias del verano parte II

Pareja: Steve Rogers X Rumlow!Lectora.

Palabras: 1019 palabras.

Sinopsis: En el cumpleaños de T/N, los recuerdos aparecen.

Advertencias: Angst.

N/A: En este fic Rumlow no es HYDRA, tampoco la Lectora lo es, así que ambos son Vengadores, la Guerra Civil nunca sucedió, pero el Chasquido si sucedió.

Parte I aquí.

Si te gusto por favor vota, comenta y rebloguea.

No doy ningún permiso para que mis fics sean publicados en otra plataforma o idioma (yo traduzco mi propio trabajo) o el uso de mis gráficos (mis separadores de texto también están incluidos), los cuales hice exclusivamente para mis fics, por favor respeta mi trabajo y no lo robes. Aquí en la plataforma hay personas que hacen separadores de texto para que cualquiera los pueda usar, los míos no son públicos, por favor busca los de dichas personas. La única excepción serían los regalos que he hecho ya que ahora pertenecen a alguien más. Si encuentras alguno de mis trabajos en una plataforma diferente y no es alguna de mis cuentas, por favor avísame. Los reblogs y comentarios están bien.

DISCLAIMER: Los personajes de Marvel no me pertenecen (desafortunadamente), exceptuando por los personajes originales y la historia.

Anótate en mi taglist aquí.

Otros lugares donde publico: Ao3, Wattpad, ffnet, TikTok, Instagram, Twitter.

Tags: @sinceimetyou @black23 @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad @azulatodoryuga

2023

La esperanza estaba floreciendo en Brock, al final podría recuperar a su hermana. Por otro lado, Steve estaba nervioso, pronto podría volver a ver a su amada. No iba a ser fácil pero estaban dispuestos a pagar cualquier precio con tal de recuperarte.

2015

—Vamos Steve, camina más rápido —dijiste, jalando un poco su brazo para que se apurara.

—Espera… —él pidió, se suponía que iba a ser un día especial.

—Mm, olvidé que eres un anciano —dijiste un poco decepcionada, deteniéndote.

—¡Oye!

Sonreíste, tomaste una parte de la falda de tu vestido rojo, a Steve le encantaba que usaras ese vestido, comenzaste a correr, tomándolo por sorpresa y él corrió tras ti, sin detenerte seguiste subiendo la colina, aunque no era exageradamente alta, conocías muy bien el lugar, desde tu niñez lo visitabas, te detuviste cuando llegaste a la cima.

—Al fin llegamos, este es mi lugar favorito, los atardeceres son hermosos —comentaste cuando notaste que Steve ya te había alcanzado.

—No, no lo creo…

—Ni siquiera lo has visto… —volteaste un poco molesta, estabas segura de que él nunca había estado en ese lugar.

—Lo sé porque tú eres la más hermosa del mundo —respondió abrazándote— ¿Te casarías conmigo? —te susurró al oído a la vez que sacaba la cajita con el anillo de compromiso.

2023

Cada mañana, durante las siguientes semanas, Steve no dejaba de ver el calendario, contaba los días que faltaban para volver a verla; además, una parte de él no dejaba de recordar lo que había pasado el verano anterior al Chasquido, ya que fue cuando se comprometieron; la boda hubiera sido años antes si no hubiera pasado lo que ocurrió.

A veces reía al recordar el día que le propuso matrimonio, nunca antes había estado tan asustado como cuando Brock se enteró del compromiso, ni cuando le pusieron el suero sintió tanto miedo, por un momento creyó que su cuñado lo asesinaría (probablemente deseaba hacerlo, pero seguramente se contuvo por ti), ni siquiera recordaba que le había dicho —amenazado— Brock, sin embargo, a Steve le parecía haber escuchado algo relacionado con su cabeza y su escudo si no hacía a ti feliz o si alguna vez te hacía daño.

Tragó saliva con dificultad cuando una pregunta en específico apareció en su cabeza, ¿qué le iba a decir cuando le preguntaras por lo que había pasado?, había estado cinco años sin ti, aunque aún tenía un poco de tiempo para pensarlo, esperaba que aún quisieras seguir casada con él.

Steve tenía en sus manos los anillos de matrimonio, el día del Chasquido habías olvidado ponerte el tuyo porque tuvieron que salir de prisa, tampoco podía olvidar la sensación el primer día que regresó y tú no estabas.

La casa nunca había estado tan silenciosa y triste, nada era lo mismo sin ti, la primera noche lloró. Ambos sabían que siempre había un riesgo de que algo saliera mal en una misión o incluso… incluso perder al otro.

No obstante, al menos Steve nunca llegó a creer que realmente podría pasar, él siempre intentaba protegerte, aún sentía culpa por no poder haber hecho algo y evitar que desapreciaras.

Steve se sentía nervioso, su corazón latía muy rápido, después de tanto tiempo iba a verte, todo debía de salir bien, aunque le parecía un poco extraño que todo fuera tan fácil, tenía un extraño presentimiento.

Pero lo olvidó en cuanto te vio, corrió hacia ti y te abrazó tan fuerte que tuviste que detenerlo para evitar que siguiera apachurrándote.

—¿Qué pasó? No recuerdo haber llegado a…

De forma inesperada fueron separados, la batalla apenas comenzaba.

Después de que vencieran a Thanos corriste hacia Steve, comenzaste a revisar sus heridas, no parecían tan graves gracias al suero, no obstante, comenzabas a tener varias preguntas, principalmente en qué año estaban, notabas un poco diferente a Steve de cómo lo recordabas, Brock también se veía más viejo.

Mientras ellos te relataban lo ocurrido, más preguntas tenías, pero no te atrevías a hacerlas, tal vez cuando Steve y tú estuvieran solos las harías.

—Tiene mucho de que platicar, los dejó solos —Brock dijo saliendo de la habitación.

—¿A dónde fuiste? ¿Dónde estuviste todo este tiempo? —Steve interrogó.

—Oscuridad —respondiste.

—¿Oscuridad?

—Sentí calor y hormigueo en mis extremidades y luego todo se volvió oscuro; después, ustedes estaban, así que no sé qué ocurrió —continuaste.

Steve se relajó, al menos no parecía que hubieras sufrido o estado en peligro, sino más bien en una especie de limbo, tal vez inconsciente.

—Supongo que debes de tener muchas preguntas —Steve comentó.

—Yo… pues…

—Hazlas, sé que no quisiste hacerlas frente a tu hermano, pero estamos solos.

—Ustedes dicen que fueron al pasado, y bueno, pues…

—No tienes por qué preocuparte, lo único que me interesaba era conseguir de alguna u otra manera las gemas para traerte de vuelta, es lo único que me importaba —Steve contestó, él sabía cuál era tu pregunta.

—Steve, ¿qué hiciste en todo este tiempo? ¿Hay alguien más? —sentiste como se hacía un nudo en tu garganta al terminar la última pregunta, podrías comprender si había otra persona, a final de cuentas habían pasado cinco años y no sabían si alguna vez podrían arreglar lo que pasó.

—Buscar la forma de arreglar todo lo que pasó, debí de haber hecho algo más para evitarlo, para no… perderte, buscamos muchas maneras hasta que finalmente, de forma inesperada Scott llegó con la solución…

—¿Scott? ¿Cómo?

—Él no desapareció, sino que se quedó atrapado en… bueno no entendí bien lo que nos explicó, pero, pues, funcionó. Y respecto a tu otra pregunta, nunca podría haber alguien más, siempre has sido tú —continuó y tomó tu mano.

Sonreíste, no podías creer que te había esperado todo ese tiempo, aunque tú hubieses hecho lo mismo, ahora sabías que ni la muerte los iba a separar.

—¿Qué haremos ahora? Debemos de recuperar todo el tiempo que no pudimos estar juntos.

—¿Qué te parece irnos de segunda luna de miel? No creo que nos necesiten por aquí en algún tiempo —Steve propuso.

—Tenemos mucho tiempo por recuperar —respondiste y lo besaste.

#Firefly’s Summer Challenge #navy and roo’s sleepover #summerbreakchallange #summerbreakwritingchallange #steve rogers x rumlow lectora

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buckets-and-trees · 1 year

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Buck's Eleven

Title: Buck's Eleven Fandom: MCU Characters/Pairings: Bucky and Steve with mentions of Bucky x ex!wife Reader Word Count: 1.6k

Summary: Going into a job this big, you have to take the house or know the house will hunt you down and swallow you into its belly. Vegas is unforgiving. Good thing they're the best at what they do.

Content/Concept Warnings: Thief/Con Artist AU, smoking, 1960s elements, references to sexual acts

Notes: CONQUERING FOUR EVENTS/CHALLENGES, which is my crowning moment this summer:

@buckybarnesevents WEEK FIVE of Hot Bucky Summer: "When I First Met You..."

Sixth square of @buckybarnesbingo U4: "AU: Historical"Playing Games"

Featuring Lemonade and a Road trip for @the-slumberparty's June Challenge

AND MY FOURTH AND FINAL SQUARE for Connect4 Alternate June-iverse: C4 "Thief/Con Artist" (and including an Alpine sighting so I can collect my TOE BEANS)

This is an MCU homage to Ocean's Eleven drawing direct inspiration from the 1960 and 2001 films. The 2001 has been one of my favorite heist movies since it came out, and I had never seen the 1960s original until this week, but once I started watching it, my jaw dropped with excitement over how ripe it was to adapt for a Bucky (and Steve) AU because in the original, it's 15 years after WWII and the crew is a reassembled group of guys who were in the army together!

I borrowed some dialogue beats directly from the 2001 film, and those are in bold italics.

Story graphic by me, story dividers by @firefly-graphics, reblog graphic by @vase-of-lilies

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” Bucky takes a seat in the chair across from the penitentiary’s release board and settles his hands casually in his lap.

The man in the center taps his cigarette in the ash tray before returning it to his lips. “Please state your name for the record.”

“James Buchanan Barnes.”

“Thank you. Mr. Barnes, you’re meeting with this board today to answer a few questions so we can determine whether or not you intend to break the law again.”

Bucky nods. Contrition. Congeniality. A touch of charisma, but nothing too memorable. That’s what he must serve up.

“This is your first conviction, but you have been implicated in a long list of other cases for confidence schemes and frauds. Is this a fair and accurate record?”

Bucky glances at the doll off to the side at a small table of her own, clicking away impressively at a typewriter.

“I expect your records to be nothing but accurate, though – as you said – I’ve been implicated but never charged.”

“Mr. Barnes, what we’re trying to find out is: was there a reason you committed this crime, or was there simply a reason you got caught this time?”

“My wife left me. I was upset. I fell into a self-destructive pattern.”

Exactly what he knows they would like to hear.

“If released, is it likely you would fall into a similar pattern?”

Bucky cocks his head almost imperceptibly. “She already left me once; I don’t think she’d do it again just for kicks.”

“Fellas, you know I’d do almost anything for ya, but not… not this,” Banner looks between them, rubbing the back of his neck.

Steve smiles warmly, the smile he knows tricks his friends and his marks into whatever he needs. “Why waste all the little tricks that the army taught us just because it’s sort of peaceful now?”

The din of the night club around them – games of cards, dames performing on stage, drinks being served up all around – gives them all the privacy they need to hold a sensitive conversation around the table, just the three of them.

“We’re trained men,” Bucky adds.

“I know. I know you are, and we always did good work.”

“Better with you on the crew, you keep us careful.”

“You remember a little operation called Stacks back on the Sokovian front?” Steve asks.

“Do I! Eleven of us in and out under the cloaking of the trees at night with more Axis piles of cash than was decent for either side to have stockpiled away.”

“We should have buried it,” Bucky says.

“Speaking of money, you’re going to need an enormous amount of backing to pull this off in Vegas. The city’s not a sleepy little town tucked away near the mountains and off the grid of the main occupation, it’s got a million neon lights glowing on it every night.”

“Fury, easy.”

“None of us are gonna be as easy as you think. You’ll need the best electrician around, and Tony’s out.”

“Got religion?” Bucky asks.

“Naw, he and Pepper have got a kid now.”

Bucky looks to Steve, but he seems unconcerned. “Morgan – she’s cute.” Steve looks back to Banner. “I think he’ll do it.”

Banner shakes his head, but grins. “Pepper’s already unhappy he’s back in the game on the fluffy jobs, but if you think you can convince him… You get Fury and you get Tony, I’ll play ball with you.”

“You can’t do it. It’s impossible. I made it impossible. I invented casino security. When I first met you boys, you were bright young cocky upstarts. Now you’re bright and cocky – and just lucky that most of the time you’re not too cocky. Now I like you boys, but it can’t be done.”

“You know what? You’re probably right.”

“Eyes were too big for our stomachs.”

“You would know better than anyone.”

“Sure, sure. I just don’t want to see you boys behind bars, especially since you’re fresh out, Barnes.”

“Well, we appreciate the lemonade all the same,” Steve says, setting down his now empty glass.

“It’s hand pressed every morning down at the river market.”

“And thank you for taking care of Alpine while I was away,” Bucky scratches the the head of his white cat, who hasn’t stopped purring since being reunited. He scoops her up to his chest, and he and Steve stand to leave.

“It was good to see you, Nick,” Steve says.

“Give Maria your addresses on the way out, she’s got me a good source on Cuban cigars, I’ll send each of you a box.”

Bucky nods. “That’s sure nice of you.”

They turn and start to walk across the terrace toward the patio doors.

Fury looks after them. He sighs. “Tell me the marks.”

They slowly turn back, appearing to casually answer, but knowing this will bring him in.

“The… Sahara–“

“–Sahara, the Riviera, and the Dunes,” Bucky finishes.

“Hold on.” Fury stands. “Those are Pierce’s places. What do you two got against Pierce?”

“Pierce is the king on top of the mountain right now, nothing more than that.”

“I still owe him for how he got me with Project Insight,” Steve adds, “but I could get him back some other way. The golden opportunity to knock over his casinos on the fight night of the year, Thor vs. Starlord in a few weeks? That’s just destiny giving me the gift to make it sweeter that it’ll be his money.”

“And, Rogers, you’re okay with this knowing full well who the dame rumored to be attached to his son’s arm?”

“Yep,” Steve says without hesitation. “It’s not about her. Pierce is the king on the top of the mountain right now, we just want to topple him over. I still owe him for Project Insight. Besides, Buck’s not stupid enough to make this about a dame who divorced him, and like you said it’s only a rumor that she’s his doll.”

Fury turns his stare to Bucky. He shrugs. “She’s made it pretty clear with the divorce papers.”

He studies him for a moment, then seems satisfied.

“And you’re just going to go on your little road trip across the country recruiting your team?”

“Who doesn’t love a summer road trip?” Bucky asks, a full grin on his face.

“Sam’s already in Sin City, picked out a nice house for us to set up and lay low in Henderson.”

“Henderson’s nice and sleepy. Banner will be there by the end of the week, and we just came from seeing Tony.”

“You should swing through Salt Lake City, look in on the Maximov Twins, they’re pulling off some impressive stuff among the locals there.”

“I’ll put them on the list.”

Steve leans up against the side of the convertible while Bucky starts to pump the gas.

“Sam’s not eager about the kid.”

“I know he’s not,” Bucky smirks. “But he’s our grease man. There’s a reason they’re calling him the Spider Boy Wonder now. Besides, he was a kid before I went in, it’s been four years, he’s not a kid anymore.”

“He’s impressive.”

Steve lets silence fall for a beat.

“Tell me it’s not about her. Tell me you are not stupid enough to make this about her.”

Frankly Bucky is shocked and impressed that it took Steve thirty minutes to press him about you now that he knows.

“It’s not about her, it’s about five million cool a piece.”

Steve looks dubious. “Because when we say ‘till the end of the line…’”

“It’s not about her, she just happens to be there, but I’m not ignoring that fact – we’re just going to use it to our advantage because she’ll be a blind spot for him.”

“Because she was a blind spot for you?”

“No, she was never that.” She was fireworks, electricity, what kept him sharp when he was on his game, before he got caught and sulked behind bars.

Steve sighs and his face softens. “I know. Just promise me we don’t do anything stupid.”

"No, nothing stupid. Too much riding on this. Heist of our lives."

As they pulled out onto the street, car aimed for the interstate, Bucky wouldn't spend the duration of the road trip thinking about you, but you would cross his mind frequently, as you always had.

With the miles ahead of them, the memories of you could distract him in peace. Thoughts of when he first met you. Thoughts of sneaking into rooftop parties and pools at places like Fury’s like you two had done when you were both too broke to get in any other way. Thoughts of his hand disappearing under your skirt and up to tease the delicious heat between your thighs. Thoughts of your head falling back and exposing your throat to him. Thoughts of your head falling forward to rest against his. Thoughts of you gasping beneath him as he thrust inside you. Thoughts of you wrapped up in his arms, leaning against his chest as you watched the sun set on your little balcony of that third-floor apartment in the city. Thoughts of the soft mornings and late nights in the bed you had shared together until you didn’t. Thoughts he fights both to hold onto and forget.

But you were unforgettable. You were his. You had to be his again. He's waited for just the right angle to set you in his sights again, and he knows he can get you as sure as he knows they will walk away with over fifty million and without a trace.

Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

#bucky barnes au #navy and roo's sleepover #buckybarnesbingo2023 #bbb2023 #hotbuckysummer2023 #alternate juneiverse 2023 #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes and steve rogers #oceans eleven au #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #alpine the cat #aspen wrote something #connect4au #female reader

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theetherealbloom · 7 months

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UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 9 (Epilogue)

Chapter 9 (Epilogue): There’s Some Kind Of Heaven Just Around The Corner

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 2k

A/N: After many months of not writing, I present to you the epilogue of S1 for TLOU. Thank you for sticking by me with my silly little stories, I can never express how grateful I am to have you all. I’m horrified and excited at the thought of S2, maybe the reader could change the important ending… who knows. Stay safe everyone <3

Song: Intermission by Sleeping At Last

Previous Chapter -> Season 2 | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD 2023

SILVER LAKE, COLORADO TO SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH – A FEW WEEKS LATER…

The cool breeze of the evening brushes against your face as you sit on the porch of the farmhouse, strumming the strings of the guitar Joel now treasures. The people of Jackson have embraced you warmly, welcoming you back into their community. The topic of the Fireflies remains unspoken, a shared understanding between you and Joel. It lingers in the background, a memory that only surfaces when necessary.

Life in Jackson has brought a sense of normalcy, a semblance of the life you had before the chaos consumed the world. But this time, it's different. This time, you feel like you belong, like you are loved. The little family you've formed with Joel and Ellie has found solace within the walls of this farmhouse. As the seasons pass by, a routine settles in, and the farmhouse pulses with life, as if it has its own heartbeat.

The bugs begin to retreat once again, signaling the transition from summer to autumn. You find yourself on the porch, the guitar resting gently on your lap. It was a gift for Joel, a token of appreciation and love, but it also earned you a playful scolding. Joel made it clear that you should never leave Jackson without informing him first. It was a testament to his protectiveness, a reminder of the bond that has grown between you.

At this moment, the world seems so simple. The rush of blood through your veins transports you back to your youth, when fear and uncertainty were distant notions. Seventeen again, you find yourself unafraid of death, daring to dream once more. The curve of the valley before you holds a profound meaning. Happiness emanates from within as you gaze at the serene surroundings.

As the words echo in your mind, they bring a smile to your face. Joel's voice resounds in your memory, "I'll never let you go." Those five words hold a depth of emotion, a promise that transcends the hardships you've endured. In this tranquil moment, you realize that you have found a home, a place where love and safety intertwine. You are content, knowing that Joel is by your side, ready to face whatever challenges may come.

The future may hold uncertainties, but for now, you bask in the stillness, cherishing the connection that binds you and Joel together. The world may be broken, but within the embrace of this farmhouse, you have found solace, love, and a renewed sense of purpose. And as you continue to strum the guitar, the notes reverberate through the air, carrying the harmony of your newfound happiness into the world.

Lost in the nostalgic melody, you find yourself humming a tune that holds a special place in your heart. The tranquility of the moment is interrupted by the gentle reminder that you're wearing one of Joel's shirts, two sizes too big. It's a simple gesture, a symbol of the closeness you share, but it also serves as a reminder that nothing is certain in this world. Doubts linger, even as you begin to feel at home.

The passing year has been arduous, and its weight lingers in your mind. The slow progress makes you question if you're truly moving forward. Trust is a scarce commodity, earned by only a select few. The scars etched upon your bodies, remnants of battles fought in your youth, serve as a constant reminder of the dangers that persist. And yet, the revelation of a collapsing sun and rising seas, of crumbling buildings, brought about a new understanding of the fragility of existence.

As you continue strumming and humming, Joel stands by the door, captivated by the beauty that radiates from you. The sun begins its descent on the southern horizon, casting a warm glow on the scene. Unable to resist any longer, Joel quietly approaches, his footsteps barely audible. He wraps his arms around your waist, his presence causing you to giggle. His lips press against the side of your neck, the scruff of his chin tickling your skin.

"Joel!" you playfully chide, a mixture of surprise and delight in your voice. He responds with a hum, his voice filled with affection, "My sweet Birdie..."

You quickly place the guitar on the side, and in that tender moment, you realize that despite the uncertainties and doubts that surround you, you have found a sanctuary in each other. Joel's embrace offers a sense of security, a refuge from the storms that rage outside. You feel a rush of gratitude for the love you've found amidst the chaos, and a renewed determination to protect what you hold dear.

Basking in the warmth of Joel's affection, you turn your head to meet his gaze, curiosity tugging at your thoughts. "How was the patrol today?" you inquire, wanting to know about the world beyond the safety of Jackson's walls.

Joel plants gentle kisses on the side of your head, your cheek, and finally on your lips, his love conveyed through each tender touch. His gaze locks with yours, his southern accent subtly peeking through as he responds, "Today was good, darlin'. Nothin' for your pretty head to worry about."

A sense of relief washes over you, knowing that for at least one day, the dangers that loom outside haven't posed a threat. But your thoughts naturally drift to Ellie, the young woman who has become an integral part of your lives. You can't help but bring her up, knowing that Joel's bond with her is unbreakable.

"What about Ellie? How's she doing?" you ask, genuine concern lacing your words. Ellie's resilience and determination have become a source of inspiration, even amidst the darkest of times.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of Joel's lips as he replies, his voice filled with fondness, "Ellie's holdin' up. Been keepin' busy, learnin' new skills, and takin' care of herself. She's got that fire in her, just like you."

The mention of Ellie's fiery spirit brings a wave of admiration. You can't help but feel proud of her growth, of the strength she embodies. In this broken world, the relationships you've forged hold immense importance, anchoring you to hope and reminding you of the enduring power of love.

Nestling closer to Joel, you rest your head against his chest, the steady beat of his heart a soothing lullaby. "I'm glad she's finding her way," you murmur softly, your voice filled with genuine affection. "We're lucky to have her in our lives."

Joel's arms tighten around you, his voice brimming with tenderness as he responds, "Ain't that the truth, darlin'. We're blessed to have each other, and no matter what comes our way, we'll face it together."

Feeling a surge of love for Joel, you lift your head from his chest to meet his gaze. The twinkle in his eyes tells a story of unwavering devotion, and a mischievous grin plays upon his lips. You can't help but become enveloped in his warmth, finding solace in his presence.

"I don't tell you enough, Joel," you begin, your voice filled with sincerity, "but you mean the world to me. I love you.”

Joel's expression softens, his gaze locked with yours. He brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet purposeful. "You know, darlin'," he replies, his voice slightly husky, "you mean the world to me too. There ain't a day that goes by where I don't thank my lucky stars for bringin' you into my life."

The vulnerability in Joel's words tugs at your heartstrings, and you lean in, pressing a tender kiss against his lips. It's a gentle affirmation of the love that binds you together, a silent promise of forever.

As you pull back, a playful glimmer dances in Joel's eyes. "You know," he says, a mischievous grin spreading across his face, "I reckon I'm the luckiest man alive. Not only do I have the most beautiful person by my side, but I've also got a hell of a good kisser."

His words elicit a giggle from you, the sound filling the air with pure joy. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you whisper, "Flattery will get you everywhere, Mr. Miller."

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence, relishing the closeness and the unspoken language of love that flows between you. With each passing moment, the world outside fades into insignificance, leaving only the warmth and tenderness of this intimate connection.

A gentle breeze rustles the leaves overhead, the delicate dance of foliage creating a symphony of nature. Your fingers entwined with Joel's, each touch a testament to the warmth and tenderness that envelops you in this serene moment.

In the ambient glow of the evening, the air pulses with an almost tangible affection. The space between you and Joel becomes a canvas painted with an unspoken promise that transcends the limitations of words. In the delicate interplay of shared vulnerabilities and profound love, you find a sanctuary where the concept of time fades, replaced by the eternal embrace of this connection.

In this fleeting instance, bathed in the gentle twilight, you take solace in the richness of your conversation. Despite the shadows that loom from past events and the uncertainties that await, the presence of Joel beside you becomes a steadfast beacon, guiding you through the dimly lit corridors of life.

The embrace continues, a dance of shared whispers and laughter, a rhythmic exchange that weaves together the tapestry of your lives. Amidst the harshness of the world, the cocoon of your love becomes a refuge, a source of strength, and a testament to the formidable power of unity.

Yet, beneath the surface of this idyllic scene, a quiet ache persists, a shadow that lingers in the corners of your consciousness. There are nights when Joel lies peacefully asleep beside you, unaware of the storm that rages within your mind. In those quiet hours, memories materialize, hazy and elusive, casting a spectral glow on the canvas of your thoughts.

You can see him on the porch, the soft strains of a guitar accompanying the melancholic melody of your recollections. The air is charged with the bittersweet echoes of a past that refuses to be forgotten. There are nights when tears silently trace the contours of your face, the weight of remembered endings pressing upon your heart.

Joel, the silent guardian at your side, remains oblivious to the tempest within. His presence is a comfort, but the specter of a different ending, an alternate narrative, leaves you restless in the quiet hours of the night. The story, once written in ink, now seems to bleed into the realm of what-ifs and what-could-have-beens.

And so, in the embrace of the night, you grapple with the dichotomy of love and loss, finding solace in the tangible warmth of Joel's presence, even as the ghosts of untold stories linger in the shadows.

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe@missdragon-1 @ponyboys-sunsets @ipadkidsworld @otternanamilolo @issybee0611 @technicallysassyfox @cupcakemachete @manuchyy @darkened-writer @andyrazzledazzle @glossythor @virtueassassin @witchy-jadda @imonmykneessir @norr1e @mando-bix @thicficbich1 @adoringanakin @lalla-04p @reallysparklychaos @hollywoodmariposa @mando-bix @lunatic1012 @davosmymaster

#joel miller x reader #etherealupdates #joel miller x female reader #joel miller masterlist #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller tlou #joel miller series #joel the last of us #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fic rec

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luvmarigold · 2 years

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keep it hush (college!peter parker x fem!reader)

Summary: You find yourself crossing a line with Peter that you never intended to cross.

Pairings: fwb!peter x reader

WC: 1,086

WARNINGS: fluff, two idiots in love, mutual pining, slight angst (?)

important note: this fic has NOT been stolen! i, the original writer, am reposting this on my new blog as my previous blog (spiderl0rd) was wrongfully deleted. as always, reblogs and comments are appreciated! this is a part of @mermaidxatxheart ‘s Hot Writer Summer Challenge! this fic is based off of the song “Toothbrush” by DNCE. divider by @firefly-graphics

You were in heaven. At least it felt like you were.

Lying there with your head on Peter’s chest, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your back, legs tangled up in the warm sheets, you were the most comfortable you’ve ever been. Perhaps too comfortable.

You and Peter met during your freshman year. He and his friend, Ned, lived in the dorm directly across the hall from you. After learning that you were both from Queens, you became instant friends. It wasn’t until the Spring semester that you noticed something between you. A spark.

A lingering glance here. A flirty comment there. You both finally decided to give in to temptation and try your hand at being friends with benefits.

That was six months ago and against your better judgment, you felt yourself falling for him. Hard. You swore to yourself that for the sake of your friendship, you wouldn’t let yourself get attached. However, your heart had other plans.

You glance out of the window to see the sun setting, realizing your time with Peter has come to an end. You let out a sigh before moving to climb out of bed. Before your feet are able to touch the ground, you feel a gentle hand wrap around your wrist.

“Wait, you’re leaving already? It’s barely even 8 o’clock.” He says with a nearly imperceptible pout on his lips.

You let out a light chuckle, “I just figured I’d start heading back. I’ve been here all day. You’re probably getting sick of me by now.”

“Don’t say that. I could never get sick of you. I love every minute I spend with you.” He says with a slight frown.

You pause and look at him – really look at him. He’s dead serious. You attempt to laugh it off, ignoring the feeling building in the pit of your stomach. You ruffle his already messy curls before finally climbing out of bed, “Aw, thanks, Parker. I love spending time with you too.”

There is a moment of silence as he takes you in. Eyes follow you around the room as you free yourself from his t-shirt, changing back into your own clothes.

“Hey, Y/N?”

You hum, urging him to continue.

“Y’know you’re always welcome to stay over if you’d like…right?”

You stop in your tracks and look at him, searching his eyes for any indication that he’s joking. Your search turns up empty.

You just sigh and shake your head. “C’mon Pete, we’ve talked about this. You know the rules.”

“It’s just…you’re always in such a rush to leave after we hook up. I don’t want you to feel like you have to do that, that’s all.”

“I appreciate that. Trust me, I do. I just don’t think it’s appropriate.”

“What do you mean? You’ve slept over dozens of times. What’s one more?” He says crawling over to the edge of the bed to be closer to you.

“Yeah but that was before we started doing this.” You say gesturing between the two of you.

“It’s just one night. It’s not a big deal.”

You frown, “Maybe not to you, but it is to me.”

A look of confusion flashes across his features. “What do you mean?”

“I mean that cuddling and spending time together after sex crosses a boundary that we both agreed we wouldn’t cross. We both agreed that we need to give each other space in order for this to work. Otherwise, it’ll start to feel like we’re more than just benefitting if you know what I mean.”

A long, uncomfortable silence hangs in the air as you go back to gathering your belongings. You almost forgot that Peter was in the room before he quietly spoke up again.

“…But would that be so bad, though?”

“Peter-” “Please. Let me finish.”

You nod sitting back down next to him on the mattress.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know it’s against the rules or whatever but I can’t help the fact that every time I see you walk out that door, you take a little piece of my heart with you. Every night we spend together just plays on repeat in my head, over and over, until I get the chance to see you again. Being around you is all I want to do, Y/N.”

You feel your heart rate pick up and your breath quicken. This is the moment you’ve been dreaming of since you first came to terms with the fact that you had feelings for Peter. So, why are you not over the moon about his confession?

Avoiding his gaze, you turn away from him, shaking your head. “We’re friends Pete. I would never jeopardize that.”

“Well can’t we at least try? Look at me, sweetheart.” You reluctantly let your eyes meet his as he grabs your hands, sandwiching them between his own. “I say to hell with the rules. I’d break every rule in the book if it meant we got to be together. I’m not saying we have to end up in a relationship if that’s not what you want. All I’m asking is that we have a proper go at it and see if we can make things work. I’m tired of moving around in secrecy. I want to take you out on a real date. I want to fall asleep next to you. I want to be able to show you off because that’s what you deserve, Y/N. Let me be the one to give that to you.”

Your brain is screaming at you to say “no, absolutely not” but your heart is screaming louder and it’s telling you that this may be worth the risk.

“If I agree to this, keyword: if, would you agree to take things slow?”

“Of course, whatever you want! Maybe you can start leaving a change of clothes here? I can empty out one of my drawers for you if you’d like. I can even get you an extra toothbrush or something that you can keep in my bathroom. That way, you don’t have to leave super early to go back to your place. Oh! How about we-” You cut off his rambling by grabbing his face between your hands.

“Parker!”

A deep red washes over his features, throwing you a sheepish grin. “…Yeah?”

“I’d be honored to leave a toothbrush at your place, you goof.”

Those are the last words you’re able to say before he pounces on you, smothering your face with kisses. “You won’t regret this, Y/N. I promise.”

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ethereal27cereal · 2 years

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Cocoa and Cream - Eddie Munson x Plus Size Reader

summary: When a big snowstorm hits town, you and your neighbor Eddie find yourselves shoveling nearly 3 feet of snow off your shared driveway. And the only way to warm up is with a good cup of hot cocoa. Based on the prompt: “You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate? Are you a serial killer or something?” from the lovely @thefreakandthehair Spicy Six Holiday Fic Challenge.

warnings: not really any, this is just fluff with some pining and Eddie thinking he is a creep.

genre: neighbors to lovers, fluff

word count: 4K

author’s note: Hiya friends, I hope you all like this one, it was a super cute prompt and I loved writing it. Thank you to @kissmecaiti for all of your amazing support and for your adorable last line suggestion. Any comments and feedback are always so appreciated 💕 page divider from @firefly-graphics

Peeking out of the frosted window, you breathe a sigh to see the snow is finally starting to taper off, if only for a brief moment. Long enough to get out and shovel. Again. You have cleared the front porch and walkway twice, wanting to stay on top of the relentless piles of snow. If you don’t start to make a dent in shoveling away the snow on the driveway, it is going to be at least a week before you’re able to get your car out safely. Living alone has its perks, but being the one who has to shovel in what is shaping up to be the biggest snowstorm of the year is definitely not one of them.

You peer out of the curtains again, debating if you are just going to clear the steadily creeping drifts from the front porch or truly try to tackle the driveway. It is a shared driveway, connecting your single car garage and condo to the mirrored copy of your mysteriously handsome neighbor’s condo and garage. He moved in six months ago and introduced himself as Eddie, immediately captivating you with his soft curls and crooked grin, but you’d not gotten much more out of him since then. He’d given a little wave when you both managed to pull into the drive at the same time, a mumbled apology when returning a package of yours that had accidentally been delivered to him, and baffled ‘thank you’ when you showed up on his doorstep with a plate of warm chocolate chip cookies to show your thanks. Each time he’d always been friendly, albeit a bit shy.

Despite the shyness, Eddie has really been the ideal neighbor. Devastatingly good looking, well that’s not really an important part of the good neighbor criteria, but it certainly helps. He doesn’t have raucous parties every weekend and doesn’t block the driveway all the time like the previous occupant had. The only thing you can possibly find fault with is the late night guitar practice, but that somehow only adds to his intrigue rather than truly being an annoyance.

Once during the sweltering heat of the summer, you'd summoned up the nerve to ask him about his guitar playing, catching him unaware as he absently strummed his acoustic on his front porch. Nerves bubbled in your belly when his smoldering brown eyes flickered over you warily, staring at each other for a moment too long in the glaring sunshine. Bitten chapped lips offered a swift apology for keeping you up late with his playing, and without so much as another glance, he had disappeared into the darkness of his condo, muttering something about the damn heat before you had a chance to stop him.

All the brief exchanges only leave you wanting to know more about him, maybe spend some time with him and perhaps it could lead to something more than just friendly neighbors. But that also might just be wishful thinking and too many romance novels about meet cutes and falling in love with the boy next door. Besides, you’re pretty certain he does not share the same sentiment, seeing as he is barely able to speak to you for more than a minute without finding an excuse to flee. Maybe you just aren’t his type, thick and curvy isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, or maybe he’s just a recluse, but either way, it is boiling down to the facts that his momentary neighborly niceties will most likely not be extending to shoveling nearly three feet of snow off your side of the driveway.

Running out of time with the snow steadily starting to pick back up again, you abandon your fleeting fantasies, deciding it’s now or never and begin to bundle up in your snow clothes. Wrapped up so tightly that only your eyes peek out, you brace yourself against the chill of the wind and step out onto the front porch, tendrils of frost flicking into your lungs and stealing your breath away. The world sounds muffled and softened under its thick blanket of white, the snow falling to the ground lazily with an inaudible sigh, faint crunching under your foot as you trudge out into the winter wonderland.

Armed with your shovel, you clear a path on the porch and walkway within minutes and move on to the larger task at hand. As you round the corner to the front of the house, you spot him, a flickering figure of darkness almost engulfed by stark white. He’s dressed entirely too sparingly for the chill in the air, what looks like alternating layers of denim and leather jackets covering his top half and a pair of very wet looking black jeans clinging to his sturdy thighs. A black beanie pushes down his wild curls, tendrils clinging to his pink cheeks as he looks up from his work when he hears you slowly approaching. After a gloved wave and a smile to your neighbor, Eddie, you start on clearing the heaps of snow that surround your garage door.

Eddie had hoped he would finish shoveling the whole driveway before you came out, but he’s been at it for what feels like hours and is only just now starting to see a dent. The cold is starting to set into his knees, his toes already numb despite the layers of wool socks he had put on before shoving his feet into the thrifted snow boots that are one size too large. His eyes automatically drift over to stare at you, smiling to see you look a whole lot warmer than he feels. You’re bundled up in a puffy purple jacket, shining eyes just barely visible between your thick knit scarf and black beanie that is almost identical to his except for the pom pom bouncing on top. Eddie’s chest tightens, and though he’d like to blame it on the cold, he’s more than certain it’s because he can’t breathe when you’re around.

He knows shoveling all the snow away isn’t the grandest of gestures, but he hopes in a least a little way it does something to make you happy. Just enough of a kindness so he can see your smile before getting too nervous and retreating to the safety of his home before he’s once again plagued by never ending thoughts of you. He’s tried his hardest to be polite and neighborly, fearing if he is anything more it would be verging on creepy, and he’s not looking to start up the same rumors or stereotypes that had been his ceaseless burden to carry in Hawkins.

New town, fresh start where no one knew the name Eddie Munson or cared about his past. He told himself he would be best off if he simply kept to himself, easier not to scare off people when there isn’t anyone close enough to scare off. And at first it was easy. He went to work and came home, collapsing on the couch in front of the TV, chugging a few beers before passing out. Then he’d repeat it all over again, day after day. Until you.

With a persistent smile and an intoxicatingly sweet sundress, you had cornered him by the mailboxes about a month after he moved in. You’d repeated his name when he introduced himself, and the sound of his own stupid name lilting off your tongue should not have made him weak in the knees, but it did. And it still does. Everyday since, he finds himself hoping for more and more little moments with you, feeling butterflies from even the briefest of glances or a fleeting smile you offer his way. He’s ashamed at how many summer nights he lingered out on the front porch to see if you would wander up after your evening walk and talk to him about his guitar playing again, or about anything really. He endlessly agonizes over any reasonable excuse to talk to you before always deciding against it, not wanting to come off as too pushy or forward.

Eddie is sure that if you knew any of this you would cringe. Who wants to live next door to the freak?, he reminds himself over and over while trying not to cling to the crumbs of your neighborly kindnesses. But the truth is, he’s got it bad. Eddie has a crush on you, the girl next door, and he’d shovel six feet of snow if it meant that you didn’t have to.

Snow begins to blur his vision as the thoughts fade and he quickly realizes the blizzard is coming on in full force again. The path he’s cleared in the snow is rapidly being covered again, though not nearly as deep as it was to start, and he groans at the thought of having more snow to shovel before this storm is finished. Defeated, he looks from where he is standing at the end of the driveway to where you’re struggling against the mountainous drifts, looking even more thoroughly defeated than he feels.. You fling a pile of snow off the end of your shovel, only to have the wind whip most of it back into your face. The wind rages again, nearly taking Eddie off his feet and he decides the window of clear shoveling weather has abruptly come to an end.

“You should get back inside, it’s getting pretty bad. I will finish shoveling when the storm dies down again,” Eddie shouts over to you, his voice straining to project into the chill air.

Your pom pom hat bobbles as you turn your head to look at him. You can make out the faint movement of his lips, but the wind swallows all sounds.

“What?” you holler back, setting your shovel down and bracing against another gust. He repeats himself, but you still can’t catch a single word. Frustrated by the distance and your inability to hear, you begin to trudge through the knee deep snow to get to him. Puffy snow pants and unsteady footing do you no favors, and after trekking only a few steps closer, you find yourself face down in a heap of snow. Freezing cold and full of embarrassment.

In a moment of heroic panic, Eddie leaps over snow drifts and crouches by your side, concern streaked across his frigid features. Frosted wetness seeps into the thin denim of his jeans and chills him to the bone, but his only thoughts are on you and if you are alright.

“Shit are you okay?” he worries and pulls you out of the drift by your arms. Your face is dusted with snow, delicate snowflakes clinging to your eyelashes as you flutter them open to look at him. Eddie’s breath catches in his throat, unable to blame it on the frigid air as you cling to his arms and try to steady yourself to a standing position. Nothing seems to be injured, but Eddie scans you up and down just to be sure.

“Ugh, yeah. I mean, my pride is not, but I’m not hurt or anything. Just cold,” you reply with a shiver, leaning into him to savor the feeling of him supporting your weight for just a moment longer and expecting him to let go. But he doesn’t. His arm wraps around your waist, sheltering you against the wind as he guides you towards your front door.

“Let’s get you inside. This wind is brutal, and you look absolutely freezing.” His breath blows warm against your cheek when he whispers directly into your ear, not letting the storm consume his words again.

Once safely inside, Eddie releases his hold on you suddenly, cold wind sucking the air from your lungs and the strain of shoveling leaving you weaker in the knees than expected and you unceremoniously plop down on the floor.

“Woah! Are you sure you’re okay there, Y/N?” Eddie drops to his knees next to you, his ungloved hand wavering in a dangerous debate of whether or not to touch you again. You stare at him blankly, only able to dwell on how this is the first time you think he’s ever said your name. It sounds sweet, like sticky warm honey dripping from his lips and warming you from the inside out despite the nagging chill that has taken up residence under your skin.

“Y/N?” Eddie repeats again, even more dulcet in its refrain, but the perplexed look of concern on his face forces your reply.

“Yes, sorry, I’m fine. Just more exhausted than I thought I was,” you respond, aiming to give a reassuring smile that you’re pretty sure comes out as a grimace. In an effort to get more comfortable and regulate your body temperature, you begin shedding layers, chucking off your hat and gloves then unzipping your jacket and tossing it beside you. Letting out a huff you get to your feet, Eddie’s hand offering gentle support at your elbow so you don’t slip and fall on the wet floor.

Without much thought for your company, you kick off your snow boots and begin to wiggle out of your snow pants. It’s an action that leaves Eddie flustered and turning away with pink cheeks and his heart beating wildly, trying not to stare at the swell of your thighs and hips when you’re fully revealed in a pair of skin hugging long johns and a turtleneck that is leaving far too little up to his imagination.

“I, uhh, well, if you’re alright I should probably go,” Eddie coughs and looks down at his feet.

“No, no, please stay. I can make some hot chocolate. As a thank you. For shoveling and for rescuing me from the snow,” you laugh, a contagiously joyful sound and Eddie cannot say no.

— -

After offering Eddie an old pair of sweatpants to change into since his jeans are soaked, he settles in at the tiny kitchen table, looking stiff and uncomfortably shy while you busy yourself at the stove with heating the chocolate and sugar mixture. You try to fill the silence with small talk, asking about his job at the local auto shop and sharing little things here and there about your interests. He opens up slowly, offering up some tidbits of information, and becoming increasingly animated when he talks about his love of metal music and reading fantasy novels. He confesses that he is relatively new in town, so he doesn’t really do much in his free time besides read and play guitar.

Eddie clams up when you ask about where he moved here from, a tight lipped response telling you it’s best to drop it and move on to something else, but he circles back.

“Sorry, I’m being such a dick. You’re just trying to be nice and ask questions, and I’m being an asshole. I’m sorry,” Eddie apologizes, tugging a strand of frizzy curls in front of his lips as he speaks.

“It’s alright, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I’m just glad you’re saying more than one or two words to me. I feel like I’ve been the annoying neighbor getting in your business all the time,” you reply with an unsure smile. He regards you softly for a moment, eyebrows knitting together in thought as he weighs his words.

“You’ve not been annoying at all. I’m just not used to the friendly neighbor kind of thing, I guess. I’m just kind of used to people pretending I don’t exist. But it’s nice. You’re nice. I mean, yeah,” Eddie rambles, ending with a huff and a wince at his own pitiful words. You don’t reply, but offer a thoughtful hmm as you carefully pour the milk into the pan of boiling chocolate and begin to stir.

“Well I think you’re nice too. Hot chocolate is almost ready. I can also whip up some whipped cream for the top if you’d like,” you suggest, trying not to bubble over at the simplest of compliments that he thinks you’re nice.

“You don’t have to do that if it’s too much trouble. I’m good with just marshmallows,” Eddie waves his hand with his words, thinking nothing of his request.

“Oh, um, sorry, I don’t have any marshmallows. I don’t ever put them in my hot chocolate,” you apologize and can tell immediately that your response has absolutely dumbfounded Eddie, his face contorting with confusion as he stares blankly at you.

“What? You don’t put marshmallows in your hot chocolate?”

“Well, I don’t really like them,” you shrug absently, turning to stir the warming hot chocolate and then back to face him again.

“Hold on a minute, back up. You don’t like marshmallows and you don’t put them in your hot chocolate…are you a serial killer or something?” Eddie jests with a laugh, and you shrug again. “Who doesn’t like marshmallows? They are delicious. And then you pop them on some hot chocolate and you have the best winter time drink there is.” With each word, Eddie is becoming more animated, sitting up in his chair and speaking with his hands. A smile creeping across his face as he tries to prove this ever so important point to you.

“They’re just too sweet. And they ruin perfectly good hot chocolate by forming that weird gelatinous goop layer on top when they don’t melt all the way. Whipped cream is the only appropriate topping for hot chocolate,” you retort with a smirk. You swing open the fridge and grab out the carton of heavy whipping cream, wiggling it in his direction before going on. “And homemade whipped cream is by far the superior hot chocolate topping compared to any Kraft Jet-Puffed bullshit.”

“I did not know that I was living right next door to such a staunch marshmallow hater. I can’t believe I was going to shovel your whole side of the driveway. I’m not even sure if I can accept this hot chocolate as a token of your thanks anymore,” he shakes his head with another hearty laugh and acts as if he’s going to stand up to leave before locking eyes with you and offering a devilish grin.

“Hey now, if this isn’t the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had, then I will shovel both sides of the driveway,” you promise with an earnest look that makes his heart swell.

“That seems like an unfair deal to make seeing as there is no possible way you can win without marshmallows,” Eddie remarks playfully.

“Fine, if tasting my extra special cream isn’t enough for you, then I will just have to find some other way to thank you properly.” You wink and giggle, delighting in the look of shock on his boyish features before plugging in the hand mixer and settling the metal beaters into the bowl of heavy cream, sugar, and vanilla.

Eddie’s cheeks flush red, fading softly to rosy pink as he clears his throat, inaudible over the hum of the mixer. He isn’t sure if you intended or meant anything by the salacious sounding offer, but he’d be lying if thoughts of you in that way hadn’t crossed his mind at least once or twice, or more, over the last six months. And the thought that you might want him in a similar way sends his brain reeling. His eyes are fixed to the soft sway and wiggle of your ample hips as you continue mixing, staring far longer than just a friendly neighbor should. Eddie is certain he is dangerously close to losing any last ounce of cool he has when you turn off the mixer and dip your finger into the cream, your plump lips closing around the digit and sucking it clean with a wet popping sound.

He lets out a ragged breath and chooses to focus on the frayed holes forming in the faded fabric of the borrowed sweatpants, poking his finger against his thigh to concentrate on something other than you. Eddie wills himself to calm the fuck down, she’s just being kind and neighborly. Just because she has a perfect ass and the most kissable lips you’ve ever seen, doesn’t mean you are getting any. Don’t be creepy. Eddie chides to himself, hoping that more deep breaths will steady his fluttering heart and stifle the throbbing feeling in the pit of his stomach that is threatening to spread south.

He can't, however, tune out the sweetly satisfied hum you make after adding another dash of vanilla and tasting the whipped cream again, the sound reverberating in his ears like a song he never wants to forget.

“Perfect!” You declare proudly, releasing your finger from your lips and turning to smile at Eddie. “Do you like a lot or a little whipped cream?”

“Ermm, I will let you decide,” he responds quietly, unable to meet your eyes as if you might be able to see all the thoughts racing through his head.

“A lot it is then,” you plop a generous dollop of cream on top of the steaming chocolatey drink and bring it over to him with a smile. He thanks you shyly and takes a timid first sip, trying to avoid getting the whipped cream up his nose.

“Okay, I’m just going to say that you are objectively wrong about marshmallows, but holy shit, this is the best hot chocolate I have ever had,” Eddie admits, finally meeting your eyes as you sit down at the small table and pull your chair close to his, knees bumping his under the table.

“And the whipped cream?”

“It’s delicious. I will agree that homemade whipped cream is a top tier hot chocolate topping, and yours is really fucking good,” his voice drops lower as he emphasizes each word, sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

“Better than marshmallows?” you tease and take a sip of your own hot chocolate, letting the hot drink warm your belly.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself there, sweetheart,” Eddie chuckles and takes another drink. He is less careful this time and pulls the mug away from his face to reveal his lips and nose covered in whipped cream. He looks at you playfully, knowing full well that he looks like a whipped cream covered fool, but he can’t be bothered to care at the moment.

“You’ve got a little…,” you giggle and tap your nose at him. Eddie’s chocolate colored eyes are filled with a devious mirth as he dips his finger into his whipped cream and boops a dollop of it onto your nose with a laugh.

“Now we match.”

“Not quite.” You smile and stare at his soft creamy lips, stomach doing flips as you lean forward, placing a tentative hand on his shaking knee. Your lips press into his in fluttering delicate whipped creamed kiss, stealing the breath from your lungs and all the thoughts from your head. He freezes for a moment, heart beating faster as your gentle kiss slowly warms him head to toe until he feels like he’s on fire. Your lips are sweet and soft against his, cocoa and cream lingering on his tongue as he loses himself deeper in the kiss. You pull away slowly, peppering whispered kisses against his lips and finally on his nose to get up the last of the whipped cream.

Eddie’s eyes meet yours, dripping caramel and full of reverent wonder before he kisses away the remnants of whipped cream from your face.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” Eddie admits with a nervous laugh, his hands weaving together with yours as you scoot your chair closer to his.

“I have too. And I told you I would find a way to fully thank you if my whipped cream didn’t fully live up to your insane marshmallow expectations.” A giggle ripples from your chest as the air finally returns to your lungs, not realizing you’d been holding your breath until now. Eddie laughs along with you, smiling so hard his cheeks hurt.

“So, uh, if that’s the thank you had in mind for just for shoveling the driveway, what do I get if I mow the whole lawn?” he wiggles his eyebrows playfully, testing his luck because surely this must all be some frost bitten fantasy he has conjured up in his head. But, sure enough, you squeeze his hand and grin back at him, a teasing fire in your eyes that even the heaviest of blizzards can’t put out.

“Guess you’ll have to stay till spring and find out.”

Tags of some people who might be interested: @boomhauer @wtf-lindsay @a-time-for-wolvess @b-irock @beep-beep-sherlock @wroteclassicaly @littledemondani @chickpeadumpsterfire @aftermidnightwriting @seidenbros

#lexswinterficchallenge #eddie munson #eddie munson x plus size reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie x plus size reader #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie x y/n #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fan fic #joseph quinn #joe quinn

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

Text

Fair Grounds for Love

Pairing: Joel Miller x reader (Cowboy AU)

Word Count: 1,772

Summary: Joel takes you to your first real state fair

Author’s Note: This is for @the-slumberparty June Writing Challenge and my item is lemonade and my setting is festival/fair as well as a Summer Bingo Event and Choose your own AU box. I also did one with Biker!Joel and since my friends are super supportive and kind I decided to do Cowboy!Joel too because both are the best! Thank you to Navy and Roo for hosting and thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️ All dividers by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: lots of fun and fluff and sweetness, it gets flirty at the end ;)

This photo below was taken by Iglesias Mas for Strange Way of Life 😍

Joel Miller Masterlist

Joel insists on picking you up for your date to the state fair, ever the gentleman and loving any excuse to spend more time together.

He knocks and waits, his smile growing when he hears you start to unlock the door.

You open it just enough to say, “close your eyes, Cowboy.”

He takes a step back and pulls his hat off then puts it over his face.

When you step out you rest your hand on his arm. “Okay.”

He takes his hat down and it tumbles from his fingers as he focuses on you, his gaze sweeping from your head to your toes.

“My god,” he says.

You grin and bend down to grab his hat before standing and placing it back on his head.

“Does that mean you like it?” you ask, tone cheeky.

You step closer and press yourself against him. “You look pretty good too…if you can stop drooling and close your mouth.”

He pulls you closer. “You are the sexiest, most beautiful woman I have ever seen darlin’.”

His arms circle around your waist and he kisses you hello, the sweet gesture quickly turning heated as his hands smooth along your curves and he drags your hips into his.

When he releases you he let’s out a sigh, kissing you one more time, quickly, before taking your hand and walking you to his truck.

“If we don’t leave now I’m gonna march you right back into the house and we’ll never make it to the fair.”

You giggle and hop into the truck when he opens the door. The ride is short and it almost takes you as long to find parking.

“Wow,” you whisper as you enter the fairgrounds, “I’ve never been to anything like this before.”

You look around at all the rides, tents and booths, a vibrant array of colors and sounds, and try to take it all in.

“Let’s go have some fun darlin’.”

You nod excitedly and keep hold of his hand as you wander toward some of the booths, stopping at the first game you see.

Joel tips his hat back and gives you a wink before he takes the toy rifle and gets into position to shoot the target.

You try not to giggle when he leaves just a shred of black on the star-shaped target, failing to win you a big stuffed toy and grumbling something about poor mechanics.

“I thought all you cowboys knew how to shoot!” you tease.

“Gimme something with a decent lever action and I’ll shoot the feathers off a duck’s butt at five hundred feet! This thing…”

He looks at the old and rusty toy. “Sucks!”

“Yeah…yeah,” you continue to tease. “And that poor duck!”

You make a pouty face and he smirks, taking your chin between his fingers and pulling you in for a kiss.

“Don’t worry darlin’,” he murmurs against your lips. “It’s just an expression.”

He slips his hand into his back pocket and hands the guy working at the game booth another dollar.

“One more try.”

You keep still, watching the target intently as Joel readies himself and starts to shoot.

With a squeal you throw yourself into his arms. “You did it!”

“Just needed to warm up,” he says with a triumphant grin.

You tap your chin as you try to pick out your new toy. “I’d like the stuffed dog please, the brown and white one.”

The guy at the game booth pulls it down and hands it to you with a smile.

You squeeze the dog to your chest and smile over it at Joel.

He reaches for your hand and you take it.

“Can we go on a ride now?” you ask, tugging on his arm.

“Sure darlin’.”

You spot the Viking swing ride; it’s squealing and creaking motor making Joel grimace as you approach.

“This has gotta be older than me,” he jokes.

“I’m scared but I want to go on!” you tell him.

Pressing yourself into his side the entire time you’re waiting on the line you finally move up to take your seats, suddenly unsure if you want to hold onto the railing or Joel.

“I apologize in advance if I scream really loud and squeeze the life out of you.”

He presses his lips together to stifle a laugh and you narrow your eyes playfully, startling when the ride jerks forward. Without a second through you wrap both your arms around his bicep and smash yourself against his side.

Now you feel his laughter and you would scold him except the ride starts getting into full swing and the only thing you can do is scream with terrified glee.

He tucks his hat away so it doesn’t blow off his head and gives you a reassuring squeeze.

When you step off the ride you lean into Joel’s side to steady yourself.

“Did ya have fun?” he asks.

“Yes!” you squeak. “Everything is a little wobbly though.”

“I got ya darlin’,” he says softly, tucking you under his arm. Let’s get something sweet.”

He leads you over to the food area and you look around the bustling fairgrounds, trying to decide what to get. The air is filled with the aroma of various foods, each one tantalizing and you finally choose something, deciding first to have lemonade.

“The booth is a lemon,” you giggle as you wait on the line. “It’s so cute!”

“Wait ‘til you get a taste darlin’.”

You take a moment to peruse the menu, and your mouth waters with anticipation as you read the enticing choices. Classic lemonade, freshly squeezed and tangy, is available for those seeking a traditional experience. But there's also a selection of tempting twists on the classic, such as strawberry lemonade.

Taking Joel’s advice you go for a classic lemonade, your eyes widening when the vendor hands you a cup so large you can barely close your fingers around it.

Joel takes it from you, the cup looking like a regular size in his large hands.

“Here,” he says, holding the straw up to your lips.

The cool, tangy sweetness dances on your taste buds, instantly refreshing and invigorating. The combination of tart lemons, the subtle hint of sweetness, and the chill of the ice soothes your senses on this warm day, making you feel rejuvenated.

“It’s sooooo good. Oh my god.”

You take a second long sip before he does the same.

“Shit,” he agrees with a chuckle. “I’m almost forgot how good this is.”

You reach for another drink but he swipes the cup away and instead plants his lips on yours.

“Mmm,” he hums. “Sorry darlin’…just need some extra sugar.”

He adjusts his hat and winks.

“Where are we going now?”

You’re back in Joel’s pick-up, resting against his shoulder, your stomach full and your feet tired.

“It’s a surprise.”

He pulls off the road and into a small clearing, stopping the truck at the edge of a cliff.

Before he opens his door he holds up his finger, signaling for you to wait, and jumps out, running around the truck to help you.

“We’re so high up!” you say, peering near the edge. “It’s so beautiful!”

The cliff offers a panoramic view, stretching far and wide. Below, the vast expanse of the earth unfolds, revealing a tapestry of rolling hills, meandering rivers and lush greenery.

While you’re admiring the view he lowers the tailgate and sets down a blanket in the truck bed.

“Come ‘ere darlin’,” he says, placing his hands on your hips to help you hop up.

Once you’re comfortable and resting in his arms he threads his fingers through yours, idly rubbing his thumb across your knuckles.

The sun, now hovering low on the horizon, casts long, dramatic shadows that dance across the landscape. The golden light bathes everything in a soft glow and the distant mountains are silhouetted against the radiant sky.

You stare out at the breathtaking scenery, but every time your eyes slide to Joel he’s looking at you.

Slowly he brings your hand to his lips, kissing your fingertips before releasing them and curling his arm around your waist to tuck you against his chest.

You push his hat off his head and run your hand through his hair then dance your fingers across his jaw and over his beard.

He closes his eyes and hums, leaning into your touch. His hand moves from your waist and he slips it under your top, rubbing softly and slowly, making the heat in your body build.

Your hand drops to the collar of his shirt then slides inside the open buttons, his skin warm and smooth. You move lower, popping open the next button, then lower to the next, revealing more of his skin.

“Darlin’” he murmurs, his lips pressing to your neck, lightly nibbling until they meet the shell of your ear.

With a shiver you hook your thigh over his, the thick muscle settling between your legs and creating the perfect friction as you shift against him.

He reaches forward with his thumb and sweeps it across your lips, leaning in to kiss you. At first it’s tender and soft but when his name falls from your lips, desperation in every syllable, he rolls over and covers your body with his, deepening the kiss until you’re a panting mess beneath him.

When he pulls away for air he rests his forehead to yours and squeezes his eyes shut.

“Fuck woman,” he groans as he pushes himself up and slides out of the back.

He extends his hand toward you. “Get in the truck. I’m taking you home.”

You crawl closer and grab the front of his shirt, dragging him back to you and chasing his lips.

“Nope. I can’t wait.”

“Darlin’,” he says softly, but it’s gritty with restraint. “I’m taking you home to bed like a proper fucking gentleman.”

Your hands slide up his chest and wrap around his neck so you can bring his mouth back to yours.

“Right now, I don’t want a proper gentleman,” you whisper along his lips. “I want you, Cowboy, fucking me in the bed of your truck, under the sunset.”

You slip from his grasp and lie back on the blanket invitingly. He sucks in a curse and stares, taking you in, the golden setting sunlight catching like little sparks across your skin, lighting you up like an angel.

With purposeful movements he charges back into the bed of the truck.

“You’re gonna miss one hell of spectacular sunset darlin’,” he simpers as he settles over you. “But I promise I’ll make up for it.”

@sstan-hoe @laineyreads @justkinsey @beccablogsthings @pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren

#joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #cowboy!joel miller #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x y/n #cowboy!joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #navy and roo's sleepover #SmutHubSummerCamp23

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tightjeansjavi · 1 year

Text

Burning in a Hopeless Dream

Boston QZ: Part 15

“They See Right Through Me”

Joel Miller x f!o/c

A/N: thank you for your patience as I took the time to write this for y’all. This was not only the longest chapter I have written, this was also the hardest, and emotionally challenging one thus far. I am extremely proud of how this has turned out. Thank you for reading ♡

Summary: Save who you can save Joel.

~word count: 11.7k~

Warnings: age gap (o/c is in her early 30’s Joel is in his 50’s) established relationship, angst, dark! Joel, mean! Joel. You’re gonna hate him by the end of this chapter! Joel, canon typical violence, death of a major character, trauma, arguments, gaslighting, PTSD, anger, rage, heart break, triggering themes that may be disturbing for some viewers. Please proceed with caution and read the warnings. (+18) minors dni !

Songs for this chapter:

“The Archer” By Taylor Swift

“You Are My Sunshine” by The Civil Wars

“Godspeed” By Frank Ocean

“Same Old Same Old” by The Civil Wars

“take a moment to breathe” by normal the kid

“My Cell” The Lumineers

“Paper Houses” by Niall Horan

“Wait” by M83

“Save Yourself” by KALEO

“It’ll All Work Out” by Phoebe Bridgers

Summer, 2023 : 5 Miles outside the QZ

“From this point forward, the three of us have to actively remember that Ellie is just a kid.” You spoke, sitting along an old crate in the abandoned building you, Joel, and Tess had found to take cover from the storm. Ellie was asleep, in the middle of the room. She used her backpack as a pillow, under a bed of moss.

Joel scoffed alongside you. His hand was still bloodied and bruised up. The thin skin of his knuckles were torn, shredded, and you were doing your best to clean out any debris embedded in the flesh. “She ain’t just a kid. She’s fuckin’ cargo to us.” He gritted out. He could feel the muscles, and tendons in his hand twitching. He had definitely broken it from the amount of times his fist made contact with the FEDRA soldiers face.

“Does she fucking look like cargo to you Joel? That’s a kid who’s life just got drastically turned upside down in a matter of hours. All she’s clearly known is Marlene, and the fireflies, and now 3 strangers.” You shook your head, refusing to make eye contact with him as you swiped a bit of 20 year old disinfectant along his knuckles, eliciting a hiss from between his lips.

“She is cargo. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you don’t let your emotions get in the fucking way. You forgetting what we’re doin’ this for? We’re doin’ this for Tommy, Gwen. We get the battery, the truck, everything Marlene promised us, and we go and find my brother. That’s the plan and it ain’t changin’ darlin’.”

“You know, if I had just met you two, I’d think you were an old married couple by the way you fuckin’ bicker together.” Tess whispered, amusement in her tone.

Joel rolled his eyes immediately in response. “Yeah?” He scoffed. “Well, we sure as hell ain’t an old married couple.”

“No, but you’re actin’ like one. At this rate, I’d put a ring on her finger sooner, rather than later Texas.”

“You see an every kiss begins with Kay or jade jewelers, or whatever the fuck around here? Cause I sure as hell ain’t seein’ any. Not to mention, that ain’t our style. Marriage? That’s hilarious Tess. Really fuckin’ funny.”

It wasn’t that Joel thought there was anything bad about marriage. It was more-so the fact the that he hadn’t had thoughts about marriage in over 20 fucking years. Besides, putting a ring on your finger seemed way too cliche. Totally not yours, or his style.

“I think I’d actually commit murder if he even attempted to put a ring on my finger.” You chimed in, your eyes were still focused on tending to Joel’s hand.

“That’s exactly 100% why you’re Joel’s girl.”

“Damn right she is.” He agreed.

“You’re both seriously beyond insufferable right now. Just wanted to let you know.” You mumbled under your breath with a small grin tugging on your lips.

A bright flash of lighting, followed by a loud crack of thunder, ended the lighthearted banter.

“Have you thought of the possibility that maybe Marlene is lying about the truck, and weapons that she promised us? Look, I have my reasons to not trust Marlene, but I really think we need to think about this from a logical standpoint. If the case ends up being there’s no truck, or weapons, we can’t just leave Ellie to fend for herself.”

Joel was ripping his hand from your grasp when you had attempted to bandage his knuckles up. He had given you a stone cold look, one that sent an unpleasant chill down your spine.

“Marlene seemed too fuckin’ desperate to make up a lie like that darlin’. Besides, Tess and I have known Marlene far longer than you have. If she says there’s a truck and weapons waiting at the state house, she ain’t lyin’ about that. The only reason you have to not trust her is because she’s a fuckin’ firefly.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as you tucked your first aid kit back into your backpack and stood up. “Yeah? Well if you remember correctly, she’s the reason why I got fucking thrown into lockup. Her and the rest of the fireflies are the reason behind that. You just want me to go along and trust her? She’s never even fucking liked me Joel.” His gaze fell upon your face as you shrugged off your jacket and gently placed it over Ellie’s curled up sleeping form just a few feet away.

“You were just in the wrong place at the wrong time Gwen. Shit fuckin’ happens. You don’t wanna trust Marlene? Go on right ahead and see where that gets you. You’ll be eating your words the second we drop this kid off and get our reward.”

You scoffed under your breath as you sank down against the wall, far away from him now with your arms crossed over your chest. “Yeah, okay Joel. Can you stop being a fucking asshole?”

“Stop saying stupid fuckin’ shit and then I won’t have a reason to be an asshole darlin’”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek, tasting copper along your tongue. You missed the moments where Joel was attentive to you, and your feelings. Where he was tender, gentle, soft with your heart. You missed that side of him desperately.

Ellie, unbeknownst to the three of you, was wide awake and listening to the entire conversation as it ensued. The second you placed your jacket over her, she felt an immediate trust for you. Especially for the fact that you emphasized that she was just a kid. She was wary of the other two you traveled with. Especially Joel. He seemed like one mean motherfucker.

Joel had taken the first watch of the night while you and Tess slept. Except, you couldn’t sleep at all. Despite how mean your partner was to you earlier, you couldn’t give him the cold shoulder forever.

He had turned his head towards you in the slightest when he could hear your boots scraping against the pavement as you stood up. He let out a soft sigh when you sank down beside him, pulling your knees up to your chest.

“Why aren’t you sleepin’ honey?” His tone was much softer now, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

“I don’t sleep most nights anymore Joel.”

He frowned at this and finally looked over at you, turning his body so he was facing you. His good hand was still firmly grasped around the machine gun strapped across his shoulder.

“You wanna talk about it? I’m all ears for you darlin’” he rasped.

“There’s nothing to talk about Joel. This has been going on for months. I’ve come to accept that a decent night's rest is not something attainable for me anymore. I’m on edge constantly, and for good reason.” You had your chin tucked into your shoulder as you looked over at him. The rain wasn’t as heavy anymore but there were still low rumbles of thunder in the distance.

Joel took a deep inhale through his nose, his nostrils flaring slightly as he breathed out, feeling the tension in his shoulders dissipate.

“C’mere. You ain’t have a reason to be on edge when I’m right here. Okay? Look, I know these last few months have not been ideal. Shits been handed to us left and right. I don’t want you thinkin’ that I don’t care either, alright? You know I do.” He slipped the rifle off of his shoulder before he was reaching for you, gently wrapping his good hand around your forearm, coaxing you closer.

“I know you care, Joel. I know that you’re just stressed over Tommy, and now this whole situation. I just…I got so fucking comfortable when we were just..happy. You remember that?” You didn’t fight him as he gently pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly to his chest, resting his chin along the top of your head. His arms were secured around your middle, your back pressed firmly to his chest.

“We both knew that wasn’t going to last forever baby. Those were the best moments. I ain’t forgotten them. M’sorry for the way I’ve snapped at you. I don’t know how to deal with how I’ve been feelin’ about Tommy. I know that’s not an excuse to treat ya that way. I don’t wanna lose you too..”

“We could have stayed with Bill and Frank y’know. There were so many houses and we could have had a comfortable life there. I know it sounds silly, how can anyone live comfortably in an apocalypse? Somehow Bill and Frank have. They’ve pretty much gone and done the impossible. Listen, I know you don’t mean what you’ve said. Does it hurt me? Absolutely. You’d have to do something unforgivable to lose me Joel. So please don’t go speaking like that.” You placed your hands over his, as you gently brought his damaged hand up to your lips, lightly pressing a kiss to the broken skin on his knuckles.

“Maybe we can have that one day, sweet girl. Just the two of us, okay? We’ll find a home somewhere to call ours. Maybe a couple horses, a nice big yard? A library for all your books..a decent mattress, with pillows that aren’t moth eaten. A nice big kitchen where we can cook together. We’ll have Bill, Frank, Tess, and Bea over every weekend for dinner. I’ll make sweet love to you every fuckin’ night. Doesn’t that sound wonderful baby? We’ll have that one day, I promise you. It’s just not in the cards for us right now, but that’s okay. You wanna know why? Cause no matter what, I got you, and you got me. Kay? No matter what happens.” He whispered against your hair, his eyes closed as he pictured a domestic lifestyle with you by his side. He wanted that so fucking badly with you. He could nearly taste it.

You were left feeling stunned in his arms. Joel’s confession was well thought out, tender, filled to the brim with all the little details. You could tell by his deliverance that this was not something he came up with on a whim. No, your Joel had thought about the possibility of having a normal life with you for a long long time. “No matter what happens, I got you, you got me. Always.” You whispered.

Joel tightened his grip around you slightly. He didn’t care about the throbbing pain from his freshly broken hand, or the impending reality that your lives had drastically changed in a matter of hours. He just wanted to make sure you got a decent night of sleep finally.

So, he sang. Just above a whisper, the same lullaby you had sung to him the night that his nightmares nearly consumed him.

“You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me happy when skies are gray. You’ll never know dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take my sunshine away. Please don’t take my sunshine away…”

You were fast asleep by the time he whispered out the last word. He held you all night long, listening intently for any sounds that could be of a threat. Even when it was Tess’s turn to take watch, he didn’t wake her either. His gun was nearby, ready to grab if needed. His eyes stayed trained on the sleeping teenager just a few feet away. Ellie, who he viewed as just being cargo to transport.

By morning's impending approach, the storm had since passed on. The sky was painted in an array of pink, red, and orange hues. Although a sight to behold, a red sky at dawn was never a good sign. The old saying goes, red sky at night, sailors delight. Red sky at morning, sailors warning.

The four of you had no inclination to predict that this was Tess’s last day walking in the living realm. Predicting the weather was something just about anyone could do. Predicting the moment someone would take their last dying breath? That was a feat impossible.

Ellie had slowly awoken to the sun's warm rays peeking through the cracks in the abandoned building. A golden butterfly fluttered above her sleeping form as her eyes slowly opened. She was still in a sleepy state as she slowly sat up, taking in her surroundings before she heard a loud creaking sound behind her.

She was greeted by a stern look from both Joel, and Tess. He was holding his assault rifle between his hands. The barrel of the gun pointed at the ground. The look he was giving the teenager was menacing enough as it was. The only kind face Ellie could find in the small space was yours.

“Morning…” she spoke, hesitation laced in her tone.

Just as she began to slowly rise from the mossy floor, Joel had lifted the gun in her direction, causing the teenager's eyes to go wide and you kicked his chair with your boot from where you stood behind him. “Joel..” you warned. He could feel your eyes glaring into the back of his skull, disapprovingly.

“If you say that she’s just a kid one more fuckin’ time.” He snapped back, keeping his gun trained on Ellie.

“Do I look like I’m infected? Seriously, can you not point that thing at me man? What, are you actually gonna shoot me?”

“Just might. Now, show us your arm. Slow. If you make any—”

“Sudden movements you’ll shoot. Yeah, I think I fucking got that part.” Ellie quipped back. She slowly lifted the sleeve of her hoodie revealing her 3 week old bite mark in the sunlight. From where the 3 of you were, it was pretty obvious this was not a fresh bite in the slightest.

“Yeah, it’s not getting any worse, is it? I’m not infected. This thing is 3 weeks old and I haven’t turned into one of those..things.”

Joel slowly lowered his gun before he slowly looked over at Tess before he let his gaze slightly drift up to you. “What the hell was Marlene doin’ with an infected kid in the first place?”

“I’m not infected. She found me after I was bitten and before you ask, no. She didn’t shoot me. She locked me up in that shit hole and had her guys test me every fucking day. They chained me to a pipe and made me recite my name and other shit back to them to see if my personality had changed. It clearly didn’t.”

“Did your shit attitude come before, or after you were bitten?” Joel asked.

You kicked the foot of his chair again, this time a little harder.

You could tell the teenager fought hard to not roll her eyes at him. “Y’know the thing I think really impressed them was the fact that I didn’t turn into a fucking monster.”

When the three of you didn’t respond, Ellie slowly rose to her feet and Joel’s gun followed. “Really man? I thought we were done with that shit. Can I just go pee now? I’ve been holding it for a while.”

Tess had grabbed an old magazine on the floor and tossed it over to the teenager. “Go ahead. You can find a nice spot back there.”

Ellie caught the magazine before she started to walk towards the back room to do her business. “There’s not gonna be anything bad in here?”

“Just you.”

Once Ellie was out of sight, you nearly wanted to rip Joel’s gun from his hands but refrained as you crossed your arms over your chest with a sigh. “She made it through the fuckin’ night, Joel. I think you can cut it out with pointing the gun at her. She’s clearly not a threat to any of us.”

“It doesn’t fuckin’ matter. It’s gonna happen sooner or later. Maybe her body just has a late response to the cordyceps. She can’t be trusted. I told you this was a bad fuckin’ idea to begin with and now that we know she’s infected, you still think we’re gonna follow through with this?”

“You saw her arm, Joel. If she was infected it would have looked completely different. We’ve seen what infected bite marks look like and she is not one of them.”

“Yeah well I ain’t about to go and take that chance. We’re close enough to the wall. We can sneak her back into the QZ and we’ll just find a different way to get the battery. I ain’t hauling an infected kid around with us.”

“We take her back to the QZ and they’re gonna kill her. FEDRA see’s that bite mark and she’s through. You really wanna have a kid's blood on your hands like that?”

“Do you hear yourself right now Gwen? You’re actin’ like this kid has some fuckin’ life ahead of her or somethin’. We take her back to the QZ and get the battery a different way.”

“What happened to fiercely believing in the fact that Marlene is gonna have a whole truck and weapons waiting for us if we bring her to the state house? You’re just gonna go and abandon that?”

“You should be jumping for joy over the fact that we’re finally fuckin’ agreeing on somethin’ for once. An infected kid is not worth the possibility of that truck, or the weapons we were promised.”

“I’m with Gwen on this one.” Tess finally spoke as Joel whipped his around suddenly to look at her, narrowing his eyes.

“You’re what?”

“You heard me Texas. I don’t think I need to repeat it.” She spoke without looking at him just as Ellie had returned. “You hungry kid? You can share some of ours.”

“Thanks. Marlene sent me with my own.” Ellie spoke as she sank down into the moss, pulling out what appeared to be a chicken sandwich from her backpack.

“Is that chicken?” You asked, feeling your mouth water at the sight of something besides the dried, tasteless jerky the three of you were eating.

“Yep. Marlene said they get it from smugglers..guess not you guys.” She smirked a little as she took a bite of her sandwich.

Tess was already up and out of her chair and Joel had tried to stop her but she pushed him away. “Why are you so important to Marlene? Hm? Don’t even think about lyin’ to me kid. If you do, we’ll take you back to the QZ.”

“Well..you take me back and you don’t get your battery.” Ellie responded.

“Ohh. So you got a good set of ears on you huh? Well, then I’m sure you heard that he wants to shoot you then right?”

Ellie no longer possessed a smirk on her face as she slowly looked up at Joel’s displeased face. “So then why hasn’t he shot me already? If what you’re saying is true.”

“Trying to change the subject isn’t gonna do you any good either. So I’m gonna talk to you like an adult, alright? Joel and I aren’t good people. We’re doin’ this for us because apparently you’re worth somethin’ to Marlene, whatever that may be. So if I were you, I’d drop the smart ass attitude because his patience? It’s wearing mighty thin. I suggest you answer my question. Why are you so important to Marlene?”

“What about her? Is she not a good person either?” Ellie spoke, gesturing her head towards you.

“Gwen? Let’s just say..she’s better than the two of us but not by much. Sweet face, sure. Knows how to wield a knife like it’s the fuckin’ back of her hand.”

“That’s badass.”

“Answer her question, Ellie. It’s alright.” You spoke softly, earning a disapproving look from your lover.

“Okay..well, Marlene told me not to tell anyone and here I am telling the three of you..” she sighed, rubbing her hand over her face. “There’s a Firefly base camp somewhere out west with doctors. They’re working on a cure.”

“Oh of course they are. Yeah, sure I’ll believe it. This ain’t the fuckin’ first time we’ve heard about a possible cure. It’s all horse shit.” Joel muttered under his breath.

“So whatever happened to me is—”

“The key to finding the vaccine. That’s what they all fuckin’ say and guess what? They’ve tried to find a cure numerous times and ain’t nothin’ worked. It’s the same goddamn thing every single—”

Ellie rose to her feet in a fury, staring at Joel head on. “Fuck you, man. I didn’t ask for this.”

“You and me fuckin’ both. We’re wastin’ daylight the more time we spend talkin’ on this nonsense. I’m done. Pack your shit up and let’s go. We’re takin’ you back to the QZ.”

Tess let out a sigh, running her fingers through her hair. “Let’s just finish this Joel. We get what we want regardless. We take her back, and we risk all 4 of us getting shot. I don’t know about you, but I still have some life worth livin.’”

Joel clenched his jaw tightly, breathing in deeply through his nose. This was not a good idea. However, we was now outnumbered by two. “If she so much as fuckin’ twitches—”

He was cut off by the obnoxious sounds of Ellie portraying a clicker. Making the snarling clicking sounds as she contorted her limbs at an uncomfortable angle.

“Ellie don’t.” You warned her.

She rubbed the back of her neck, clearing her throat as she nodded, “okay..”

The 4 of you gathered up your things to head out and just as Joel was lifting his rifle from the ground, slinging the strap over his shoulder, Ellie asked if she too could have a gun.

“Can I have a gun?”

“Absolutely fuckin’ not. Not a chance in hell.” Was Joel’s immediate response.

“Okay, Jesus fuck. Fine. I’ll just throw a fuckin’ sandwich at them or something.” She muttered under her breath as she threw her backpack strap over her shoulder.

As the 4 of you stepped out into the warm sunlight, you watched as Ellie looked around the ruined city in amazement. Buildings half fallen over, taken hostage by thick vines and moss. There were giant craters, the size of small moons, where the government had sent bombs to slow down the rate of the infected.

Joel had come to a halt in front of the impassable wreckage blocking a quick path to the State House. “Long way or short way?”

“It’s the long way or the ‘we’re fuckin’ dead way.’” Tess added.

“Long way it is then. We’ll have to go check from the hotel first. See if the coast is clear. C’mon.” You were leading the way now, while Ellie walked alongside you, Tess in the middle, and Joel in the back.

You and Ellie engaged in small talk. You genuinely wanted the kid to feel somewhat comfortable with this entire situation and Ellie seemingly appreciated your efforts. She told you how she had gotten bit and you had to admit, this kid was pretty ballsy for her age. “Well, I mean, you got some balls on you, sister, that’s for fucking sure.”

“Thanks.” She had a grin creeping up on her face.

“Soo..no one is gonna come looking for you right? Mom, dad?..boyfriend?..”

“Uhhh well, I’m an orphan and nope.”

You could feel Joel’s eyes on the back of your skull as he walked behind you, shaking his head at your efforts to befriend this cargo.

“See, everyone told me the big open city was gonna be crazy! Infected runnin’ around everywhere. Are we even gonna see any? Cause I’ve heard there’s like super-infected that explode fungus spores on you! Is that not true?”

“Shit, I hope not. Those sound fuckin’ terrifying.” You said with a small grin.

“Okay, what about the ones that have their heads split open and can see in the dark like bats?”

“You mean clickers? Yeah, there’s lots of those. They’re the most common type that we’ve come across. Not the hardest to kill, but they use echolocation—” you were cut off by the sound of a loud, distant animalistic yell coming from deep within the fallen city.

On instinct, Joel was close to your side, looking around as you waited for another yell to follow. The only sound you could hear was a crow perched on a tree nearby.

“Let’s keep movin’” Joel spoke as he gave you a gentle nudge forward.

As you approached the hotel, Ellie had her own set of questions for you as she kicked at the stray rubble beneath her red, worn sneakers.

“So is he like..your boyfriend or somethin’?”

“My boyfriend? Well, no. Not exactly. I wouldn’t call him that if I’m being honest.”

“But you’re like together, right? I think that part is pretty obvious.”

“Yeah, we are. Just don’t think he’d particularly enjoy me calling him my boyfriend. It’s not really his taste.”

“Well, no offense to you, he doesn’t seem like the boyfriend type anyway.”

This elicited a light laugh to slip past your lips as you covered it by coughing into the sleeve of your jacket. “Oh, you’re right on the money with that one, kid. He is far from the boyfriend type.”

“But he’s like your partner then?..Your person?”

“Yeah, something along those lines. I wouldn’t go as far to put us into a box, y’know?”

“I understand..what about Tess? Does she have anyone?”

“Back in the QZ she does. She has a girlfriend named Beatrix.”

“Wicked.”

“You two done chit chattin’ up there?” Joel spoke, distaste evident in his tone.

“Yeah, we’re just makin’ the time pass is all.”

“Oh yeah? Well ain’t that fuckin’ nice for you two.” He scoffed as he walked ahead of you, stopping at the foot of the stairs looking into the overflowing of water into the once hotel lobby.

“Is he always this grumpy?” Ellie leaned over and whispered to you.

“Oh, this isn’t even the worst that you’ve seen of it, kid. Trust me.”

The 4 of you started to trudge through the green, murky water to get to the other side of the lobby. Ellie being the kid that she was, wandered off to the side when she saw what used to be the front desk and pressed on the bell a few times as she leaned over the counter. “Ding! Ding! Yes, sir. I would like your finest suite, please.” “Yes, ma’am. Would you like me to take your luggage?”

“You’re a weird kid.” Joel watched her with a quizzical expression etched on his weathered features.

“You’re a weird kid.” Ellie sarcastically responded back, nearly sticking her tongue out at him as she pushed the luggage trolley forward.

A very deceased human Skeleton slipped out from behind the trolley and scared the living daylights out of the teen. Much to yours, and Ellie’s surprise, Joel was at her side immediately, gun raised in the direction of the apparent threat.

She’s just cargo, my ass. Was the first thought that came to your mind.

Joel had offered Ellie his hand as he helped her up but as soon as their hands touched, he was ripping his away from her grasp, staring down at it momentarily with a hard expression on his face. Perhaps it was from the fact that his hand was still freshly broken. Or there was a possibility he was shocked that he even allowed himself to touch someone who was ‘infected.’

After climbing 10 flights of stairs, you were met with another obstacle that was definitely not present the last time you had come through this way. “What the fuck man. This definitely wasn’t here last time, was it?” You asked, bent over slightly as you were catching your breath.

“No, it sure as hell wasn’t. Maybe we can try one of the doors?” Tess walked past you, trying the two doors with no luck.

“Damn. Well, maybe we can go climb through it and work our way around?”

“It’s worth a shot.”

Joel had pushed Ellie to the side then, before giving you a boost up over the rubble before you helped Tess over the side, grasping her forearms as you pulled her up.

“Just be careful, alright?” He spoke as he slowly sat down on an abandoned suitcase across from Ellie.

“Yeah yeah. We’ll be fine, cowboy. Just keep an eye on the kid.” You peeked your head out from a gap in the rubble and gave him a reassuring nod, and a subtle wink.

Ellie sat across from him, flipping her switchblade and catching it by the handle each time.

“That’s a nice knife you got there. Where’d you learn to do that?” Joel asked.

“The circus.” Ellie deadpanned.

Joel let out a deep sigh, looking off to the side as he tried to figure out why he even bothered to make small talk with a teenager.

“Where are you from?” Ellie asked.

“Texas.” He gruffly responded.

“What about Tess and Gwen?”

“Detroit. It’s in Michigan and Gwen is from Chicago.”

“I go to school, smart ass. I know where Detroit is. Chicago has that giant fucking bean, right? Always wanted to see it.”

“Yeah, I’m sure she’ll tell you all about it. She’s obsessed with it. No fuckin’ clue why.”

“Uh huh. So you two like a—” Ellie already knew the answer, thanks to you. She was just slightly curious to see what Joel would respond with.

“Pass.”

“Oh well cause she told me you guys were—”

“Pass.”

“How’d you end up in Boston?”

“Pass.”

“So what am I supposed to do? Talk to a fuckin’ brick wall? Fuck. She was right, you are grumpy all the time.”

“She what? God dammit Gwen.” He growled lowly under his breath. “No more questions about me, alright? That’s enough.”

“Alright, grumpy. How long do infected live?”

Joel whipped his head back around towards her, narrowing his eyes before he chuckled, “Oh, I thought you went to school.”

“Yeah, well..it’s a really shitty one.”

“Some of ‘em last about a month or two. There’s others that have been walkin’ around ‘bout 20 years.”

“Yeah? You ever kill one?”

Joel nearly scoffed at this question, almost offended that this kid even assumed that he hadn’t killed any.

“Yeah, I have killed lots of ‘em.”

“Was it hard killing them?..like, knowing they were people once? Has it ever bothered you?..”

Joel was slightly taken aback by her question. He often did forget that the infected used to be everyday people he would see on the street. Sometimes he would be forced to face humanity, and realize that he was in a sense, killing people. He wasn’t a total monster like many would have assumed him to be. He just wasn’t the most open with sharing personal details about himself.

“Sometimes. It’s easy to forget that they were once people when they’re comin’ at you with one goal in mind; to turn you into one of ‘em. So you gotta decide if it’s gonna be you, or them. You think I survived this long without havin’ to kill?” He sighed as he leaned back against the wall. “I ain’t exactly proud of it, but it’s what you gotta do to survive. It's always either gonna be you, or them.”

“What about that guy last night?”

Just as Joel was going to respond, he could hear rustling just outside the door and he was up in a flash with his gun aimed at the door.

“You can put the gun down, cowboy. It’s just us. Relax.” You spoke through the door as you pushed it open, revealing you and Tess on the other side. From the looks on your faces alone, Joel could tell that something was definitely wrong.

“What now? Did you guys see something?”

“Yeah, and you’re not gonna like it. Not one bit I’m afraid.” You confirmed.

“Fuckin’ fantastic.” He grumbled as he gently nudged past you and Tess followed by Ellie.

Shortly after, the 4 of you were standing over the ledge of the hotel, looking down at a shrieking hoard of infected, writhing on the ground below. You were standing alongside Joel, noticing that he was nervously fidgeting with his fingers and picking at the skin around his cuticles. You gently grabbed his hand, interlocking your fingers together as you gave his hand a light, reassuring squeeze.

“The last time we were here, there weren’t nearly this many of them. Most of them were still deep inside the buildings. Guess enough people came wanderin’ through looking for the QZ. They found themselves seeking shelter..went inside the buildings and that’s how they get more of the fuckin’ city bit by bit, year after year.” Tess stated, glancing over at you and Joel momentarily before looking at Ellie.

“What’re we gonna do?” You spoke quietly to him, gently stroking your thumb across the outside of his hand, leaning in close to his tall frame.

“We’re gonna have to go through the museum. We ain’t have another choice darlin.’”

“That was nearly a suicide mission the last time we went through..remember?”

“Yeah, but there’s a chance whatever is left of ‘em is dead by now. If it gets dicey, we split and figure out another way, alright? Right now, this is our only option and I ain’t lookin’ forward to it either.” he pressed a quick kiss to your forehead, just a smidge of affection that it seemed like you both needed.

“They’re connected in more ways than you know. The fungus also grows underground. Long fibers, like wires. They’re all entwined under the surface and if you step on a patch of cordyceps in one place, you can awake a dozen infected somewhere else. They know where you are and it’s only a matter of minutes before they find you. You’re not immune from being ripped apart, kid.” Tess explained.

Ellie was fully listening, soaking up all the information that Tess was providing her. The situation at hand was becoming all too real for her 14 year old self.

“We have to go through the museum. It’s the short-way and not the most ideal, nor the safest, but we ain’t have much of a choice.” Joel spoke up, letting go of your hand as he stepped forward.

“I had a really bad feelin’ you were gonna come to that conclusion Texas.” Tess spoke with a sigh.

Ellie’s eyes nearly bugged out of her skull when she saw the amount of fungus tendrils stretched across the expanse of the outside structure of the museum. The colors were faded, not nearly as vibrant as freshly infected. Despite their obvious expiration, the building still looked ominous and uninviting.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me. We seriously have to go through there? You sure there’s not another way man? This is screaming ‘DANGER’ like c’mon, aren’t the lights flashing in your brain right now too? Cause mine are like fuckin’ sirens.”

Joel ignored the teen as he bent down, inspecting one of the thick strands of fungus. He used the butt of his gun to stab at it to check and see if it was in fact dead. “It’s bone dry. Good chance that they’re all finally fuckin’ dead in there.” He was already pulling his flashlight out from his bag while you and Tess were pulling out your guns.

“I have a spare hand y’know.” Ellie stated the obvious.

“Congratulations.” Joel responded.

He was the first to enter the museum, rifle at the ready. When he deemed it was safe enough to enter, he turned his head towards the opening of the door and gave you a quick nod to follow.

Once the 4 of you were inside the museum, Ellie’s pupils had blown out when she saw just how much fungus coated the walls, floors, and pretty much any inanimate object. It was everywhere.

Joel was still extremely cautious where he stepped, shining his flashlight along the fungus infested floor. It appeared that the once living infected, were all deceased by now. That was until Ellie stumbled upon a fresh kill and let out a surprised, “oh shit!”

Joel was immediately stepping around her, gun raised and his face immediately fell as he looked over at you and Tess. So, maybe they weren’t all dead after all. Or maybe this guy was attacked outside the museum and just found himself to be in an unlucky situation.

The three of you began to talk in a hushed whisper over the situation. Ellie could barely decipher what was being said from how low your voices were but she caught onto the bit of the conversation regarding ‘not hearing them’ what the hell were they going on about? What were they listening for? As far as she was concerned, the museum was deathly silent.

“I don’t hear anything. Who, or what would you hear?” Ellie had suddenly asked. Joel’s response was to raise his hand off his gun, giving her a warning look to shut the fuck up with his eyes alone.

“Did an infected person do that? Cause I was attacked by one and it sure as hell didn’t do that. Dude is all torn up. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She whispered.

“Okay, from this point forward, we are silent. Not quiet. Silent.” He emphasized heavy on the silent part as he looked sternly at Ellie. He held no concern over you and Tess being silent but this kid was already becoming a nuisance in his eyes. “You got that? Not one single fuckin’ sound. This isn’t funny business, kid. This is the real fuckin’ world.” He harshly whispered.

“What—”

“No. No questions. Just do what I say, alright? You wanna live to see another day, don’t you? Exactly. That’s what I thought.” He whispered as he lowered his gun and took a few silent steps to the side, locking eyes with you for a moment. Your Joel never usually showed fear. He was able to encase it well behind his hardened features. A furrow of his brow, the quirk of his upper lip, all used as decoys. Even in the low lighting, you could see his face etched with fear. Just as fast as it appeared, it was gone again, hidden behind the vast ridges of his weathered skin.

Joel had taken the lead while you silently stepped behind him, keeping your finger hovering over the trigger of your gun, ready to react if need be. You glanced back at Ellie and gave her a reassuring nod to follow you while Tess walked behind her. Despite how quiet you all were being, the old floor boards were creaking with every step your boots took.

The stairway was absolutely covered with now bone dry fungus. You couldn’t even see where the next step started from how dense the fungus was. It creeped up the walls, over paintings and the railings of the staircase. You watched Joel’s footing as he carefully stepped over a mound of once living infected. You couldn’t even make out their faces as the fungus had completely morphed them to be unidentifiable.

The sickening crunch of a once human hand beneath Ellie’s shoe had Joel whipping around, shining his flashlight that was attached to the rifle at the teenager. He gave her one long look before he turned away from her and continued to head up the stairs.

A few more steps up and Joel was at the opening of the doorway, slowly pushing it open as you waited for his silent cue. Just as he had given it to you with a slight nod of his head, some of the building's structure began to collapse and crumble as you, Tess, and Ellie stumbled inside before the debris could crush the three of you.

Joel was reaching down grasping the kids arm as he quickly helped her up from the dusty floor while you helped Tess up.

Then there was a loud screech, one that you had heard far too many times. It still sent deep chills down your spine.

click click click click

Ellie was slowly backing towards a wall, her eyes wide with fear as she tried to steady her nervous breaths.

Out from the shadows, illuminated by the steady, bright beam of Joel’s flashlight was a clicker. Its head was completely split open by the cordyceps. The brain cavern was taken over by the fungus. Thick, putrid and brightly colored. Clickers could not see, as they were blinded by the fungus, but they could hear, and they could hear very well.

Its body contorted at an uncomfortable angle as it clicked and snarled.

Another screech was heard;two clickers.

Joel was already quickly nudging you against the glass case. His face constricted painfully in your view. This was not an ideal situation to be in. Not one fucking bit.

Ellie was in his direct eyesight and he quickly mouthed to her, “they can’t see, but they can hear.”

The clicker let out a loud, bone chilling growl from the other side of the glass case. You found yourself squeezing your eyes shut momentarily, holding your gun firmly against your chest.

Don’t make a sound. Don’t move. Don’t make a sound. Don’t move.

Joel had slowly brought his pointer finger to his lips, keeping his eyes locked on Ellie to keep her calm.

You could feel the teenager's anxiety, and fear rising with every second and you silently pleaded with her to stay strong.

Joel had turned his head slightly as the clicker stumbled around the side of the glass display case. It was so close you could nearly feel its putrid breath on your skin.

Ellie had let a sharp breath slip past her lips and it was loud enough for the clicker to hear her.

It all happened in a flash as the clicker turned around and screeched loudly before it lunged. Joel had gotten a few shots into its body from where he stood, but it wasn’t nearly enough to inflict any serious damage. “RUN!” he yelled as the other clicker appeared from the shadows. You shot at it once before grabbing Ellie’s arm firmly in your grasp.

Tess had taken a couple more shots before she followed behind you. The three of you ran around the corner, hearts racing and blood fiercely pumping. The clicker was hot on your tail and gaining on you quickly. In one quick movement, you shoved Ellie to the ground, ordering her to crawl to safety.

You and Tess turned to shoot again, but neither of you had time to aim and wasting bullets was the last thing you wanted to do.

You both could hear a loud crash from the other side of the room and Joel’s heavy boots before everything went silent again.

click click click click

Joel had taken cover behind another glass cabinet as he quickly unloaded and reloaded his small pistol. His senses were on overdrive when he heard the low clicks approaching. His eyes squeezed shut momentarily, thinking that his cover was blown.

The clicker had let out a low snarl before it stalked in the other direction and he could barely make out Ellie’s crouched form behind the tarnished glass.

His footsteps were quiet, calculated and precise as he moved from his hiding spot and crouched beside Ellie. He had no other choice but to get her out of this situation. It was almost as if in those crucial moments, his protective nature had completely taken over. He was going to get this kid out of here, unscathed if it was the last thing he ever did.

Him and Ellie silently communicated with their eyes alone. One tilt of his head and she was quietly moving along the side of the glass case, following his lead. Just when he thought they were in the clear, something had crunched beneath his boot. It was stray shards of glass. His blood ran cold at the crunching sound. Neither him, nor Ellie had time to react as the clicker lunged over the glass case and threw itself on them.

You could hear Joel’s grunts and Ellie’s terrified screams from where you stood behind a nearby wall. You were going to have to act fast if you were to save them both.

bang bang bang

Joel had pumped the clicker with lead, causing it to stumble backwards, allowing him and Ellie to scramble to their feet.

You peeked around the corner, taking aim at the clicker's head before you pulled the trigger and sent it stumbling to the ground. Even after its body hit the floor with a sickening thud, Joel pulled his own trigger a few more times till it was no longer moving.

The second clicker came charging out of the blue, but didn’t make it far as Tess had thrown an ax at its neck, and you finished it off with a bullet to the head.

Once the apparent threat was deceased, everyone let out a shaky breath. From where you were standing, you could tell Tess was injured from the way she was avoiding putting too much weight on one foot. “You alright?”

“Just a twisted ankle, I’ll live. Don’t worry.” She responded.

“Fuck me.” Ellie exclaimed as she lifted up the sleeve of her hoodie and revealed a fresh bleeding bite mark along her forearm. “I mean, if it was gonna happen to one of us..”

You were at her side then and gently tugged her sleeve down. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

Tess’s final and only request

You sat alongside on the roof, pulling out a roll of duct tape from your bag as she pulled off her boot. You wasted no time to start to wrap her foot with the tape. “Just a sprained ankle you said? Nothin’ else?” You asked, looking up at the older woman momentarily.

“Yeah, just a sprained ankle Gwen. I’ll be fine.” Tess looked at you as if she was studying your features. As if she was storing your image deep inside her brain so that she wouldn’t forget you, or your face.

Joel had given the kid a piece of cloth to wrap her arm before he was crouching down on the other side of Tess. “You can walk, right? Ain’t need any help?”

She looked at him the same way she had just looked at you. She wanted to keep your memories up to the very last second. “I’m fine, Texas. Really. Go on and make sure she doesn’t accidentally kill herself or somethin.’”

He gave her a small nod before he stood back up. “Yeah, I know. It looks scary and all but it really ain’t that bad.”

Ellie turned around briefly to look at him before she responded, “no. That was scary. This is wood.” Before she stepped across the thin planks to the otherside.

You gave Tess’s arm a light squeeze before you followed after the kid, glancing back at them momentarily before you crossed over the narrow planks of wood.

“What if the first bite didn’t take? What if the second one does? We’re in way over our fuckin’ heads with this Tess. We all could have fuckin’ died back there and—” Joel was cut off by Tess snapping back at him.

“How ‘bout you just take the good news? Can you please just do that for once? None of us are dead. We’re gonna finish what we started Joel.”

He looked at her briefly, trying to decipher what had ticked her off so easily before he let out a sigh and grabbed his rifle from where it laid on the discolored roof tiles and slung it back over his shoulder.

I failed them. I failed them both. I failed Bea. Tess silently thought to herself as she pulled her knees up to her chest, taking in a few shaky breaths.

Joel crossed over the planks and stood alongside Ellie.

“Is it everything you hoped for?” He asked.

“Jury’s still out.”

“But, man, you can’t deny that view.” Ellie concluded.

You were reloading your gun off to the side, glancing over your shoulder to see Tess approaching. Her demeanor alone was a sure signal that something was off. You just couldn’t figure out what exactly had happened back there. It was going to drive you up a wall, not knowing. You were sure of it.

“C’mon, let’s get there before it’s dark. We’re wasting daylight. Let’s go.” Tess gritted out between her teeth as she was already climbing down the old steel ladder. Her erratic movements threw you off guard completely.

You stopped alongside Joel, brushing your hand across the outside of his bicep before you followed Tess and Ellie down the ladder.

Joel waited a few moments in silence as he glanced down at his broken watch strapped around his wrist before he grabbed the side of the ladder and climbed down.

They’re gonna hate me.

They’ll see right through me.

What will Bea think?

Will she think me to be dead?

I let her down too.

She’ll never know what has become of me.

I won’t turn into a monster.

I won’t become one of them.

Tess was leading the way to the state house. Her footsteps were uncharacteristically fast. She seemed on edge, nervous, sporadic.

The 4 of you were crouched behind a long abandoned car outside of the state house. There was a large military grade truck parked outside. However, there were no signs of weapons, or the fireflies.

“Where the fuck are they? Marlene said they would be here. She fuckin’ promised us.” Tess whispered.

“Everyone just stay here. Alright? Somethin’ ain’t right here.” Joel whispered back before he crept from behind the car to investigate. Once he approached the truck, the 3 of you took a bated breath as he opened the door, aiming the barrel of his gun at the inside of the truck. He was met with blood stained seats but no fireflies.

The side of the open truck door was spattered with blood dripping down the dull metal.

Something definitely was not right here.

Joel had glanced back at you and Tess, shaking his head slightly to signal that it wasn’t safe just yet as he crept around the back of the truck slowly. He took a deep, visible breath as he opened up the two heavy steel doors and was met with no signs of any passengers inhabiting the vehicle.

“What the fuck is goin’ on Joel?” Tess asked as she walked towards him, brushing off your hand along your arm.

“The fuck did I just say about stayin’ back? It ain’t safe! Why didn’t you wait for my–”

“They went inside.” Ellie confirmed from where she was standing. There was a trail of blood leading up the gravel steps to the state house. This definitely was not a good sign at all.

Tess was already heading up the steps in a fury. From where you stood, you could see her hands trembling. “Come on!”

“Tess just wait a fuckin’ minute! By the looks of it, the fireflies are dead and we ain’t gettin’ our battery!” Joel yelled at her to stop.

“Come on!” She was insistent with her tone.

You, Joel, and Ellie had no choice but to follow Tess into the state house. Once inside, you were all met with the bodies of the deceased fireflies, all in a circle in the room. Their crimson blood spilled out along the tiles, staining them in a dark red.

“I mean, there’s gotta be a fuckin’ radio or somethin’ right? Help me look for one!” Tess spoke in a rushed tone as she frantically started looking through the deceased fireflies supplies, knocking over items onto the tile below, creating all sorts of noise.

“Tess? What the fuck is going on with you?” There was an edge to your tone as you came up alongside the older woman. “Maybe Joel was right..maybe we should go back to the QZ and regroup.”

“Fuck that. We’ve made it this far, and now you want to turn back? No. Help me find a radio, Gwen! There’s gotta be one around here. There has to be!”

Joel had noticed that one of the deceased fireflies had clearly been bit as he used his boot to tilt its head to the side.

“Tess, what the fuck are you doin’?” He asked while he watched her rummage around in a fury.

“Where did Marlene say she was taking you? Ellie! Where did she fuckin’ say she was taking you?” Tess ignored Joel as she walked over to the teen and you instinctively stepped in front of Ellie.

“Uhh..I don’t know. All she told me is that she was taking me west but she didn't say where exactly.”

“Just west? Fuck. Okay. She didn’t tell you anythin’ else?” Tess wasn’t even looking at you. Her eyes were frantically searching the expanse of the room. “Well, I mean, one of them’s gotta have a map on them, right? Joel? Gwen? Can you fuckin’ help me?! Stop just standin’ around!” She snapped as she started searching for anything she could find on the deceased bodies.

“No! Tess..it’s over. We are goin’ home, alright? We are way over our heads, bit off more than we can chew. We’ll go back to the QZ and–”

“That’s not my fucking home!” Tess snapped. “I’m stayin.”

“What the hell do you mean you’re stayin’? What the hell has gotten into you?! You’re actin’ fuckin’ weird! Why won’t you even look at us?!” Joel spoke exasperatedly.

Your blood suddenly ran cold. You figured out why Tess’s behavior was so sporadic and uncharacteristic for her just as Ellie had figured it out too.

“Fuck. She’s infected.” Ellie spoke softly, the realization washing over her.

Joel looked at Tess then and felt his world suddenly begin to cave in, all at once. Just before he could open his mouth to speak, you were stepping in front of him, feeling your heart pounding out of your chest.

“No. Tell me it's not true, Tess. Fucking tell me its not true!” You pleaded with her, as Joel was already protectively pulling you back behind him.

“Show me. Show me your fuckin’ arm Tess.” He demanded and when she took a step towards him, he immediately took one back. He did his best to ignore the pained look that struck across Tess’s features.

Tess let out a sigh as she drew her hand up to the collar of her jacket and pulled the fabric back to reveal the fresh bite mark along the base of her neck, along her collar bone. You could see the veins of the fungus growing up her neck already. There was only a matter of time before she would be completely gone.

“Oops, right?” She said with a pained laugh, tears threatening to spill over.

You pushed Joel out of the way once more, you weren’t afraid of Tess. She wasn’t a monster. She was still human. She was still breathing, pumping blood through her veins. “You can’t fuckin’ die. You can’t! Tess…what about Bea? You–” Your own tears had threatened to spill over as you shakily grasped the collar of Tess’s jacket between your fingers. “This wasn’t supposed to happen to you!”

You could feel Joel grabbing your forearm, trying to yank you back. “Let me the fuck go!” You snapped, ripping your arm from his firm grasp.

Tess was hugging you, nearly knocking the air from your lungs. You could feel her entire body trembling as she held you. “You fuckin’ listen to me okay? I haven’t got much time. You protect him, okay? Please protect him Gwen. He’s going to need you more than ever now. No matter what happens, no matter what he says, please don’t leave him. Keep him safe. Please.” She whispered, squeezing you tightly.

“Tess, I–”

“Promise me Gwen. Promise me you’ll be there for him”

“I promise.” You whispered.

“Tell Bea that I love her, and I'm sorry.”

Tess released you from her grip and frantically pushed you away as she stumbled back.

She addressed Joel directly now, balling her hands into fists, to ease the trembling. “Ellie. Take your bandage off.” She asked with a shaky breath, walking over to the teen as she grabbed her forearm in a firm grip.

“This is real. Joel, she’s fucking real. Look at her arm!” She let go of Ellie’s arm and brought it down to her side. Her forearm was twitching, trembling as the cordyceps were quickly invading her nervous system.

“You get her to Bill and Franks. You load up on ammo, and you take her out West. You find Tommy and the fireflies.”

“No.”

“There is no time to fuckin’ argue with me! You take her to Bill and Franks. I’ve never asked anything of you Joel. Never asked you to feel a certain way about me.”

He went to open his mouth but she immediately cut him off.

“No. You shut the fuck up and listen to me ‘cause I don’t have time. This is your chance to do some fuckin’ good for once. To make up for all the fucked up shit we did. You keep her alive. You keep her safe. You hear me? You set everything right.”

“Tess, No. I can’t fuckin’ do that.”

“Yes you fuckin’ can Joel. Please say yes, Joel, please fucking say yes.” She pleaded with him, a stray tear rolling down her cheek .

“Oh fuck!” Ellie yelled as one of the presumed deceased bodies snarled, clawing at the ground.

Joel wasted no time to pull his gun out, aiming it at the infected and pulled the trigger, sending a bullet straight to its head as it collapsed down to the mossy floor.

fuck fuck fuck.

The tendrils of the cordycep fungus rose up between the deceased fingers, and it dawned upon you that the infected were more connected than you could possibly understand. The fungus was weaved intricately below the surface, webbed together in a firm structure.

You could hear the approaching snarls from outside the wooden doors.

They were coming.

Tess was already moving around you, using the butt end of Joel’s rifle to open up the large barrels of gasoline, spilling the flammable liquid onto the tile. She was working off pure adrenaline as she knocked over each barrel. She tossed a box filled with grenades onto the floor.

The realization that Joel was losing another person who was so important, so close to his heart, was crashing down on him. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears. His eyes and mind went blank as Tess approached him. “Joel…save who you can save.” She whispered her final plea to him. These were her last words spoken in the walking, living realm.

Joel understood, as he searched her eyes. He seared her memory into the deep cavern of his brain. He would never forget her and he refused to let her down.

In a flash he had grabbed Ellie’s arm in his one hand and yours in the other, immediately yanking both of you away from the immediate danger.

“No! We’re not leaving her! We can’t! Get off me, you fucker!” Ellie yelled as she clawed at him, trying to pull her arm from his grasp.

You stumbled after him, frantically looking over your shoulder at Tess for the very last time. She gave you a small smile, followed by a reassuring nod before her face was obstructed from your view as Joel pulled you and Ellie outside, to safety.

All you hoped for was that Tess went peacefully. That she didn’t die in fear. You hoped that she died with memories of you, Joel, and Bea. Tess deserved that. She deserved to die peacefully, painlessly. You loved her to her very last moments.

Moments after Joel pulled you and Ellie outside, there was a loud explosion of breaking glass, and bright flames. The sound had Joel throwing his body over you and Ellie protectively. You could hear the distant screams of the infected suffering in the hot flames, and billowing smoke. You hoped to god that Tess wasn’t one of those blood curdling screams.

Joel immediately had his gun raised, ready to shoot down any stray infected. There were none. They were all dead. Tess had sacrificed herself for your lives. She gave you a fighting chance and you’d never forget her bravery.

You brought your arm around Ellie’s shaken up frame, giving her a firm squeeze. You kept her close as you turned her body away from the destruction and death.

Joel had already walked away as he could feel tears begin to prick in the corner of his eyes. He quickly blinked them away as he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

The three of you were dead silent as you walked into the nearby woods. Your mind felt numb, and your heart was raw. Tess had so much more life ahead of her to live. She had friends, a lover, and a purpose. She was smart, witty, and brave. She fought for those she loved, till her dying breath.

Joel was crouched down alongside the river, far away from you and Ellie. He was reaching into the clear stream, picking up rocks below the surface and gently stacking them upon one another. He was creating a cairn in her memory. A silent memorial for her short life. He thought of her as he placed each stone on top of one another.

I’m sorry. I should have done more. I should have been quicker. I should have protected you. I let you down. I failed you.

Your approach towards Joel was hesitant. You had no idea how he was going to react to your attempt to comfort him. You knew he didn’t handle loss, of any kind, well. You refused to let him suffer alone. He had his moment where he could mourn in peace. You wouldn’t take that moment from him. He deserved it. You both did. Despite this, your heart pulled you towards him. You had to make sure he was okay. You needed each other more than ever now. Tess’s words echoed in your mind with each step you took. “No matter what happens, no matter what he says, please don’t leave him. Keep him safe. Please.”

Joel could hear your footsteps slowly approach. His back immediately tensed up at the sound of your boots crunching under stray twigs. His heart yearned for your touch, your comfort. His mind was scrambled. It screamed for him to shut you out. This was your fault, after all. You insisted they take the kid from the get-go. In his eyes, and his fragile mind, Tess was dead because of you.

He squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the warm expanse of your palm press between his shoulder blades. His breath trembled as he fought hard to not lean into your touch.

“Don’t fuckin’ touch me.” He hissed lowly, keeping himself facing the stream.

“Joel, Please..Don’t—”

“Don’t what? It’s your fuckin’ fault that Tess is dead.” He harshly whispered, clenching his jaw tightly as he let his toxic thoughts slip through his broken, cracked lips.

His words felt like a thousand knives stabbing you in the heart over, and over again. You took a shaky inhale, remembering Tess’s final request to you.

“You don’t mean that. You don’t mean that Joel. You’re upset..let me–”

He whipped around to face you, his eyes narrowed into slits as he rose to his feet, towering over you. “I fuckin’ mean every goddamn word. You insisted from the get-go that we take this fuckin’ kid. I told you it was a bad idea. See what happens when you try to be the fuckin’ hero, Gwen?”

You took a step back from him, feeling your own tears threatening to spill over. “Stop. Please fucking stop! I am not at fault for Tess’s death! Neither of us could have predicted this to happen Joel!”

“I fuckin’ told you that we should just take her back to the QZ! What do you do instead? You fight against me, tooth and fuckin’ nail! Every goddamn fuckin’ time. Why couldn’t you have just listened to me for once in your goddamn life!” He spat, taking two heavy steps towards you.

“Because Ellie is just a fuckin’ kid! She’s just a kid that is now OUR responsibility! Tess agreed that we shouldn’t take her back to the QZ! She agreed with me, Joel!”

He scoffed, shaking his head as he let out a deep chuckle.

“Do you fuckin’ hear yourself right now?! Fuckin’ take some accountability for your fuckin’ actions! Tess is dead because of you! Bea is never going to see her again, because you wanted to fuckin’ save this kid, this cargo! How does it feel, huh? Are you fuckin’ happy with yourself Gwen? Do you feel fuckin’ good inside right now baby?! TELL ME HOW IT FUCKIN’ FEELS!”

Joel’s booming voice rattled your skull, and pierced your heart. You physically felt yourself cowering away from him, shrinking in on yourself.

Ellie had heard Joel’s yell from where she was sitting against a nearby tree. She was up and running to your aid immediately. You watched as the teen shoved at Joel with her hands, pushing him back with rage filled in her tear brimmed eyes.

“Hey! Leave her alone, you fucker! Leave her alone! It’s not her fucking fault! LEAVE HER ALONE!” Ellie yelled as she shoved his chest as hard as she could.

Joel was grabbing the teens wrists in his calloused palms, immediately shoving her away.

“You fuckin’ stay out of this kid! This ain’t your fuckin’ business!” He felt his pulse drop when he heard the familiar click of your gun perched firmly between your shaking hands. The barrel was shakily aimed at him.

“LEAVE HER OUT OF THIS JOEL. YOU WANNA LET YOUR ANGER OUT ON ME? FINE. LEAVE ELLIE OUT OF THIS!” You yelled, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“You gonna fuckin’ shoot me?”

“If you lay your hands on her again, I won’t hesitate.”

“You’re breakin’ my fuckin’ heart baby.”He seethed between his gritted teeth.

“Gwen..” Ellie pleaded with you.

“It’s okay, kid. I will handle this, okay? Please just...just go sit down. Please.” You whispered, giving the teen a reassuring nod that everything would be okay. Joel would never hurt you. He would never dare.

Ellie looked between you, and the brooding man before she reluctantly nodded, walking away.

Your gun was still aimed at your lover as your tears continued to fall. “How fucking dare you speak to me like this Joel. What the fuck is wrong with you?!? How dare you speak to Ellie like that! She has done NOTHING to you, Joel!”

He took a few menacing steps towards you, feeling the barrel of your gun pressed firmly against the cavern of his chest. Your lower lip was trembling, your eyes glassy with tears as you looked up at him.

“You gonna pull that fuckin’ trigger baby? You gonna pump me full of lead?”

“You know I can’t Joel. You know I fuckin’ can’t.” You whispered shakily.

“Just like you can’t fuckin’ admit that you’re the reason Tess is dead. Can’t own up to your fuckin’ actions to save your life.”

“Please stop Joel. Please. I’m begging you to please fucking stop. You’re hurting me. You’re fucking hurting me!” You yelled. Your tone was raw, heartbroken, beaten.

“Who are you fuckin’ shedding those tears for, huh?! You shedding those tears for Tess? She hated you! You know she fuckin’ hated you with every fibre in her fuckin’ being! You don’t get to cry for her! She meant NOTHING to you. Don’t stand there and act like she did! You don’t get to weep and feel sorry for YOURSELF!”

The barrel of your gun was pushing so deep into his chest now. Surely there would be a bruise of some sort forming but it was clear he didn’t give a fuck about that. Not even in the slightest. He felt his heart screaming at him to stop but it was too late. The words were spoken and they were etched deep into your own heart. Joel had gone and done the unforgivable.

“Fuck You. You don’t get to stand there and tell me how I'm allowed to feel Joel! She was my fucking FRIEND too! We had our differences, and we overcame them! I fucking loved her and YOU don’t get to take that away from me! YOU DON’T HAVE THE POWER TO TELL ME HOW I CAN AND CAN’T FEEL!”

Joel’s breaths were coming out in heavy puffs, fanning your face as you watched his nostrils flare, and his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Deep down, he knew this wasn’t an argument to win. He was just devastated that he lost someone so close to him. He never learned how to handle loss well, his old habits, and toxic feelings welcomed him in with soft whispers, and warm touches.

This was not your Joel.

“Gwen…” He whispered.

“No. Fuck you. You don’t get to say all that, speak to me that way, and take it all back. You don’t get to fuckin’ do that Joel.”

“Baby, I’m sorry I didn’t–”

“NO.”

“Gwen. You know I didn’t mean it..I lashed out, but I didn’t mean any of it! I got you, you got me, Always. Remember? I’m so sorry I–”

As soon as he was reaching out for you, you harshly pushed him away, pressing the barrel of the gun further into his chest.

“You’ll never fucking touch me again Joel. Never.” You whispered.

You removed the barrel of the gun from his chest, pointing it upwards towards the sky, before you pulled the trigger.

The deafening sound of the bullet being released and cracking through the cool air had him flinching.

You wanted him to know that you could have pulled the trigger on him. You loved that man too much to hurt him. You could never.

“Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t you dare come near me.” You seethed, tucking your gun back into the holster around your waist before you turned on your heel, and walked away from him.

Joel was left standing near the rivers edge, watching as you walked far, far away from him.

‘Cause do I love you..Oh, I do..and I'm going to ‘til I'm gone…’

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