#and then ellie. unconscious but alive

[skoulsons]

hey.

anyway.

[bodybaggage]

Shadows in Gotham

---

Gotham’s twilight sky was a patchwork of purples and reds, a fading canvas that gave way to the inky blackness of night. The city was alive with the usual sounds of distant sirens, honking horns, and the underlying hum of danger that never quite left its streets. For Danny Fenton, now in his early twenties, Gotham was supposed to be a fresh start—a place to lay low and raise his unconventional family.

His daughter, Danielle, Ellie, as she preferred—skipped ahead on the cracked sidewalk, her energy boundless despite the long day. She looked about ten years old, though she was technically more of a clone than a traditional daughter. She had Danny’s black hair but with an unruly curl to it, and her bright blue eyes sparkled with a mischievous light. Beside Danny, holding his hand, was a boy who looked no older than eight. His hair was tousled, and his expression was a strange mix of innocence and the haunting wisdom of someone far older. This was Dan, Danny’s de-aged evil future self, a living, breathing reminder of what could go wrong if they weren’t careful.

The trio moved through the narrow streets, Danny’s senses on high alert as they made their way back to the modest apartment they now called home. He had retired from the life of a ghostly vigilante, focusing instead on keeping his small family safe and hidden from the relentless pursuit of the Guys in White (GIW). To the world, they were just another struggling family in Gotham. But beneath the surface, their existence was anything but ordinary.

“Can we get pizza tonight?” Ellie asked, her voice full of hope as she glanced back at Danny.

“Pizza sounds good,” Danny replied with a smile. “But it’s Gotham, so let’s hope the delivery guy makes it to our place in one piece.”

Ellie giggled, and even Dan let out a rare smile, though it was fleeting. The moment of normalcy was interrupted by the sound of a scuffle up ahead. Danny’s instincts kicked in as he pulled his kids closer, eyes narrowing at the scene unfolding just around the corner.

A man, clearly desperate, was trying to rob a woman at gunpoint. The woman’s purse dangled from his shaky hand, and fear was etched across her face. Danny knew he should keep moving, that getting involved could blow their cover, but he couldn’t just walk away.

“Stay here,” Danny whispered to Ellie and Dan, his voice firm.

Before he could intervene, a shadowy figure dropped from the rooftops, landing silently behind the mugger. The man didn’t stand a chance as a blur of red and black moved with lethal precision. Within seconds, the mugger was disarmed and unconscious on the pavement.

Red Hood stood over the man, his stance relaxed but ready, as if this was just another routine night in Gotham. He turned to the woman, who quickly grabbed her purse and bolted, muttering her thanks. It was only then that Red Hood noticed Danny and the kids standing just a few feet away, watching the scene unfold.

Danny tensed as the vigilante’s eyes—hidden behind that crimson helmet—seemed to study them. He instinctively placed a hand on each of his kids’ shoulders, ready to flee if things went south.

“You alright?” Red Hood asked, his voice rough but not unkind. He seemed to soften at the sight of the kids, his posture relaxing ever so slightly.

“Yeah, we’re fine,” Danny replied, his tone cautious. “Just heading home.”

Red Hood’s gaze flicked between Danny and the children, and Danny could almost feel the wheels turning behind that mask. This was Gotham, after all, a city full of dark secrets. A young man, barely an adult, with two small kids in tow—it wasn’t hard to jump to conclusions.

“You live around here?” Red Hood pressed, the curiosity in his voice making Danny’s stomach tighten.

“Not far,” Danny answered, hoping to end the conversation quickly. “Just trying to keep my family safe.”

Red Hood nodded slowly, as if weighing his next words. “Gotham’s not exactly the best place to raise kids, especially if you’re... alone.”

Danny’s jaw clenched, recognizing the underlying question. “We manage.”

Before Red Hood could probe further, Ellie stepped forward, her usual boldness taking over. “He’s the best dad ever! And we don’t need any help, mister.”

Red Hood chuckled softly, the sound almost disarming. “I’m sure he is, kid. But just in case, you should know there are people around here who can help... if you ever need it.”

Danny forced a tight smile, grateful for Ellie’s fierce loyalty but wary of the attention they’d attracted. “Thanks, but we’re good.”

Red Hood seemed to accept this, though the suspicion in his stance didn’t entirely fade. “Take care of yourself,” he said finally, before turning and vanishing into the shadows as quickly as he’d appeared.

Danny let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. The encounter had been brief, but he knew it wouldn’t be the last. The Bat Family had eyes everywhere, and their curiosity was piqued.

“Let’s get home,” Danny murmured, guiding Ellie and Dan down the street with renewed urgency.

They reached their apartment without further incident, the familiar creak of the stairs a welcome sound. Once inside, Danny locked the door and sagged against it, the weight of their precarious situation pressing down on him.

Ellie flopped onto the worn couch, her earlier bravado replaced with concern. “Are we in trouble, Dad?”

Danny ruffled her hair affectionately. “No, Ellie. We’re just... being careful. That’s all.”

Dan sat quietly at the kitchen table, his eyes distant as he processed the night’s events. “He was one of the Bats, wasn’t he?”

Danny nodded, joining Dan at the table. “Yeah, Red Hood. He’s... complicated. But we should be alright if we keep a low profile.”

The night passed uneventfully, but the encounter with Red Hood lingered in Danny’s mind. He knew that living in Gotham meant constant vigilance, but the thought of the Bat Family watching them added a new layer of stress.

---

Meanwhile, across town, the Bat Family gathered in the Batcave, the massive space filled with the glow of computer screens and the quiet hum of machinery.

“Interesting case tonight,” Red Hood—Jason Todd—began as he removed his helmet, revealing the slightly tousled dark hair underneath. “Ran into a guy with two kids. They seemed... out of place.”

“Out of place in Gotham?” Dick Grayson, quipped from where he was perched on the edge of the Batcomputer’s console. “That’s pretty much everyone.”

Jason shot him a look. “Not like that. The guy was young, barely in his twenties. The kids were ten and eight, maybe. And something about them just... felt off.”

Bruce Wayne, Batman, looked up from the screen, his expression unreadable. “Off how?”

Jason hesitated, searching for the right words. “I don’t know. There’s something he’s not saying. And those kids—they’re attached to him, but it’s like they’re all trying to stay under the radar.”

Damian Wayne, the current Robin, scoffed. “Plenty of people try to stay out of sight in this city. It’s not our problem unless they break the law.”

“Yeah, but...” Jason trailed off, running a hand through his hair. “There’s a chance that guy’s a victim. The way the girl talked about him, it was like she was protecting him.”

Bruce’s eyes narrowed. “Do you think the children are in danger?”

Jason frowned, shaking his head. “Not from him. I think they’re all running from something.”

Silence settled over the Batcave as they considered the implications. Bruce stood, his presence commanding as ever. “Keep an eye on them. Gotham has a way of uncovering secrets, and we can’t afford to overlook anything.”

---

Back at the apartment, Danny lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The shadows played tricks in the dim light, reminding him of the life he left behind. He had taken on more than just the role of a father—he had become a protector, a shield against the darkness that sought to consume them.

But Gotham was relentless, and he knew their time in the shadows was running out.

---

🧌

[amythenortherner]

I saw someone else talking about this but this scene is so important because she’s getting all the rage out for everyone she’s ever lost, everyone who’s tried her, everything she’s been through. And what we forget as well is she doesn’t know Joel’s alive at this point. As far as Ellie’s concerned, she left Joel unconscious in the basement with a large group of men after him. She’s hopeful, as she always is, but those stabs are for Joel too, who in her eyes, may or may not be alive.

[blitany]

moments between Ellie and Joel that simultaneously broke me and healed me: ep. 8 edition

so much of Ellie is trying to be like Joel because he needs her (and she needs him but right now the closest she can get is imitating him) - from how she handles the rifle to how she talks to David and James. she’s always been brave and mouthy but she’s so clearly trying to imitate Joel now with the fake-deep voice and the insults/instructions (Buddy Boy? i’ll put one right between your eyes? the instinctive lie? it’s all so Joel)

all the times David refers to Joel as her father or her dad and she doesn’t correct him but that’s a lie she can’t bring herself to say on her own because that one’s too close to home, to close to what she wants to be true but is terrified to admit because she doesn’t think Joel sees her as his daughter

when Ellie lays beside Joel in the basement, partly trying to keep him warm, but partly for comfort, and Joel unconsciously turns his head towards her in his sleep, leaning into her like her presence is just as much medicine to him as the penicillin 

Joel isn’t even healed yet but a switch flips in him because he knows Ellie needs him. the Joel we see next is darker, this Joel is the one Maria does’t trust and Tommy doesn’t understand, because he’s not about to lose a daughter again!!

“you don’t need a father” but she does, she does so badly and all she can think about is getting back to him

David’s whole speech about how she’s just like him so clearly unnerves Ellie because she’s not like David, if she’s like anyone she’s like Joel who she’s been trying so hard to be this episode. Joel is who she needs, Joel is who she takes after, and this man is nothing like Joel

the “violent heart” moment being such a parallel between Joel and David, highlighting how they’re nothing alike (Joel’s heart isn’t violent, it’s broken, but he doesn’t take and hurt for himself, he does whatever it takes to protect the people who need him) and by extension how David and Ellie are nothing alike and i could make a whole post about this moment alone and how utterly wrong David is here

how Joel grabs her backpack in the slaughterhouse because he knows she’s still out there and he’s not giving up hope on her just like he never gave up on Tommy - she’s family now, she’s his family now and he’s gonna get her back whatever it takes, and when he does she’s gonna need her backpack.

the way Joel goes to her when he spots her without thinking twice because it’s his girl and he’s just so relieved to see she’s alive... but the moment she starts screaming he knows something bad happened and his whole demeanor changes to focus on what Ellie needs in this moment

the absolute softness of how he says “Look,” says it’s me and I’m here and I got here as soon as I could and you’re safe, you’re safe with me 

Ellie lets herself hug him for the first time ever and they just melt into each other as he holds her tight like they both need after the last three episodes

“I got you baby girl.” the first time he’s called her something soft, something affectionate, something he used to call Sarah. his girl, his baby girl, his daughter.

“I got you,” he repeats, “I got you.” as much to reassure her as to reassure himself. he closes his eyes and holds her tighter because yes, he got her. he got there in time. he’s got her and he’s not letting her go. 

[entitled-fangirl]

Two idiots in love. (P9)

Joel Miller x anemic!reader

Summary: The reader is determined to care for Ellie and Joel as he recovers. She meets a seemingly kind man named David, and she struggles with whether to trust him or not.

Masterlist

Part 1 and 10

Author's note: God forbid I ever get straight to the point.

...........................................................

Y/N let out a gasp at Joel's bruising grip on her wrist. 

Maybe she should've warned the man before applying that much pressure to the wound.

But she was panicking, and didn't know what to do with herself.

The strings of hardly heard curses that came from Joel's mouth were like angelic sounds to the woman. 

It meant he was still alive.

And that was enough for her. 

The basement of an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere was not exactly the place Y/N wanted to be, but they needed to give Joel time to heal. 

And she was more than willing to do anything for him.

For her Joel.

"Come on, come on, Joel. You gotta help me." She muttered under her breath to him.

He barely tilted his head up to her, "Leave."

Ellie looked over the woman's shoulder, "Shut up, Joel."

"And take the gun."

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Ellie screamed.

He reached out and grabbed Y/N's collar. With what strength he had left, he pulled her close to his face, "You go north. You go to Tommy."

She shook her head at him hurriedly, only making the man panic further. "S..sweet girl, please."

"You… you just let me stay. How am I supposed to just leave you?"

"Go. GO!" And he pushed her shoulder, making her stumble back onto the floor.

Ellie was frustrated, and went outside to give herself time to breathe.

Y/N moved back towards Joel, letting her fingers gently brush his messy curls from his face, "Honey, I'm not going anywhere. I'm gonna… stay as long as I need to. Until you're ready to go again."

The gently prodding of her fingers in his hair was whisking him to sleep.

But she needed to hear his voice more before she let him finally succumb, "Joel…?"

She barely heard his replied hum.

"What um… you said you had left a note for me? Well… I was just thinking about it… What did it say?"

"You…" he swallowed, struggling to talk, "You read it when… when you get back to Jackson…"

She shook her head again, "I'm not going. I told you that."

His lips pulled into a very small smile, "You're so pretty. So… so beautiful…"

She watched his eyes close and his body finally relax as he fell asleep.

She let out a sigh, pulling Joel's jacket over his body to give him warmth.

…

Ellie let out a small cry as she tried to give Joel water.

He was still passed out cold, and she had resorted to dripping water from her fingers onto his lips in hopes that he'd take it.

Y/N walked by the sight with a sigh, before leaning down behind the girl, "You're doing alright, baby."

And she kissed Ellie on the top of the head.

Ellie couldn't remember the last time someone did that.

Or even ANY time somebody had done that for her.

"I'm gonna go out… try to hunt." Y/N said. "We're gonna need something if we stay here. Think you can hold down the fort for me, El?"

Ellie nodded. "I can do that."

She smiled, "Good. I'll be back in a few hours. Hopefully with dinner. I won't lie to you, though. I'm not as good of a shot as Joel."

Only then did Ellie finally smile. "Just… promise you'll come back?"

"Don't worry. I'm not gonna leave you, baby."

And Y/N kissed the unconscious Joel on the forehead before heading upstairs.

…

God, Y/N forgot how much she hated the cold.

Especially knowing that Joel wouldn't be able  to warm her up when she got back like he always used to.

But as luck would have it, a beautiful deer was only 20 yards from her.

She smiled, and knelt down to crouch with the gun. 

She remembered Joel's words.

Slow and steady. Gently. 

Gunshot.

Right in its head.

But as luck would have it, someone was ready to take it back with them instead.

…

David sighed, "What do you think?"

James shrugged, "Seems fine to me."

"Alright. Well, let's get it now. I reckon that whoever shot it is not far off."

David kneeled down to grab the deer.

And hear the click of a handgun against his head.

"Don't. Move."

Y/N faked bravery with her words and actions, but inside, she was terrified. 

"Drop your fucking rifles."

The men did so, and Y/N let David stand.

The two men turned around to face her.

They could see the quick rise and fall of her chest even through her heavy coat. The panic in her eyes.

"You're quite a hunter." David reasoned. "We didn't even hear you coming."

"Where the hell did you come from?" She retaliated. 

"We're not here to hurt you." David reasoned again, "Let us have 10 seconds of your time."

"Just answer the goddamn question!" 

"I'm David, this is my friend James. We're from a larger group: women, children, and we're all very, very hungry…"

"Weird," Y/N lied. "I'm from a large group, too. But, I don't steal others' game." 

"Well, even so," David tried again, "ya can't drag this back on your own."

"I can fucking try."

The man sighed, "We're not asking for charity. We can trade you for some of the deer. We have… well, what do you need?"

Y/N was actually considering his offer. Her gun lowered just barely. "…Medicine?"

She didn't notice the way James' jaw clenched.

"We do," David nodded, "Back in our village. You're welcome to follow us."

"I'm not stupid," she scoffed. "You stay with me." She nodded towards James, "He can go get it and come back. Half the deer."

David nodded, "What kind of medicine?"

She let out a shuddered breathe, watching it show in the cold air, "Uh… penicillin? For infections?"

"Alright." He turned to James, "Go talk to Howard. Bring back two bottles and a syringe. It's not code. Do as I say."

Y/N let the barrel of the gun follow James as he stepped away.

"Now, step away from the rifle."

David did so immediately. "Whose gun is that? Your husbands?"

Y/N let out a scoff. She picked up David's rifle and slung it over to shoulder along with Joel's. 

"None of your fucking business."

"Is he sick? Is that why you're out here instead of him?"

Y/N just shook her head and his antics. 

"Well, look. It's a four-mile round trip back to our settlement. It's gonna be a while before James gets back. I have some oil and matches in my pack. We could.. uh… take shelter. Start a fire."

She pursed her lips. 

The man seemed sincere.

"Alright. But you drag the deer."

…

"So, what's your name?"

Y/N scrunched up her nose as she looked down to her gun that rested on the floor near her crossed legs.

"It's hard to trust strangers. I know," David nodded. "But, I honestly mean you no harm."

She was cursing herself for her big fucking heart.

David seems to notice her internal battle. "For what it's worth, there's room for you in our group."

She shook her head, "I'm not interested in your… hunger club or whatever."

"I'm just a man tryna take care of the people who rely on me. Like… whoever is sick that's relying on you now."

"So, you're their leader?"

"Wasn't my choice. It was theirs. But… yeah."

"What… what do you mean?"

"Well, I'm a preacher. It's not a cult thing… just standard Bible stuff."

Her eyebrows furrowed, "After all this, you still believe in that?"

He smiled, "I actually started believing after the world ended."

A hint of a smile rested on the woman's face. "Interesting. Well, I'm sorry to have crossed paths with you like this. Maybe in another life, I would've joined your group. But I have my own."

David nods, "Well, I believe everything happens for a reason."

She scoffed slightly.

"It's true!" He laughed. "It does. I can prove it to you!"

She laughed, "Alright. Shoot."

"Well, we didn't expect this winter to be so harsh. Hard to find game. So, I sent four of our people to a nearby town to scavenge what they could. And… only three of them came back."

Oh fuck.

She tried to keep her face from showing any emotion.

"Turns out," David continued, "He was murdered by this crazy man. And get this: That crazy man was traveling with a little family. A wife and a girl."

Y/N leaned back, letting her hand slowly wander back to her gun on the floor.

"See?" David smiled. "Everything happens for a reason. James, lower the gun."

Her body went into flight mode, jumping up and pointing her handgun at James. But his rifle was already aimed at her.

"She's the one that killed Alec, isn't she?" James asked.

"She didn't kill anybody," David smiled. "Lower the gun."

James hesitantly did so.

Y/N felt like she was suffocating.

"Did you being the medicine?" David asked.

James nodded, "I did, but-"

"-Give it to her."

He held the medicine out, and Y/N slowly approached him and took it.

She then began to back away, deciding to go without the deer.

"I know you're not with a group," David said. "You won't survive long. I can protect you."

She shook her head. "I don't need your help. We're fine on our own."

Then, she took off in a sprint.

…

"Ellie? ELLIE!" Y/N screamed as she ran into the house.

Ellie immediately ran up the stairs to the woman, pulling her into a hug. "Did you get it?"

She shook her head, "No… I… I'm sorry. But, I got something for Joel." She pulled out the penicillin.

"What is that?"

Y/N smiled widely, "It's medicine. I got him medicine."

…

The next day, Y/N had volunteered to go out to scoop snow for Joel.

She was trying to not freak out Ellie about what had happened the previous day.

Which meant she didn't tell Ellie about it at all, and volunteered for anything that was outside of the house.

So, when a few of David's men showed up in the neighborhood, she was thankful that she was the one out there instead of her girl.

"Stay alert," David said, "If this man's not already dead, he's dangerous."

"And the girl and the woman?"

"We bring them back with us."

James sighed, "I don't mean to question your sense of mercy, David. We can let them go. But, we bring them back with us, they're just more mouths to feed."

"If we leave them out here, they'll die."

"Yeah," James retaliated, "Well, maybe that's God's will."

David turned to look at James, but didn't say a word.

…

"Ellie. Joel." Y/N whispered when she finally made it back to the house.

"What the fuck is happening?" Ellie worried.

"You need to stay here. Stay quiet. There are… fuck… there are men outside. I have to go." 

Y/N kneeled by Joel's head, taking it in her hands, "Wake up. Joel, honey, wake up."

She smiled as his eyelids barely opened to reveal his dark eyes.

"There are men that are coming, okay? I'm gonna lead them away from you two but if anybody makes it down here, you…" she looks up at Ellie in exasperation. "…you gotta fucking kill them. Don't… don't hesitate."

She stood, "And don't let Joel sleep."

She wanted to hold Ellie and tell her it would be okay.

She wanted to kiss Joel again and feel his warm breath on her face.

She wanted a lot of things.

But wants weren't allowed anymore.

She hurried upstairs. 

…

She knew she couldn't fight them.

And she couldn't outrun them.

Maybe she would just have to surrender herself to save them.

Then Ellie and Joel could find her. 

Or they could die in the cold.

Better than dying at the hands of these men.

She wandered down a few street, as far as she could to keep them from looking in the house that Joel slept in.

She had to fake confusion.

Her plan was in action.

When the man rounded the corner, she pretended to be tying her horse to a tree.

And she feigned surprise when she heard the clicking of their guns.

She turned around with a worried expression, "oh, shit." She murmured. "…David?"

He smiled, "You know, I never caught your name."

"Why do you want it so bad?"

He shrugged, "I just… like ya or something. You have this… way about you. You draw people in."

She shook her head, "Well… I guess you came in time."

He tilted his head in confusion, "In time… for what?"

She had to pinch herself to make the tears come, "They… they're dead."

David's face turned to one of remorse, "Oh, sweetheart. I'm sorry. That can't be an easy feeling. A now childless widow. But don't worry." He smiled at her as he approached, "We'll take care of you."

"David…?" James asked.

He turned to look over his shoulder, "What's one more mouth, James?"

But when David turned back to Y/N, she punched him as hard as she could in his jaw.

And she ran.

It threw the men off, and they weren't sure what to do.

But as they ran after her, David's voice traveled through the cold air, "ALIVE!"

It was harder to run in the snow than she thought.

But those thoughts stopped when she hit a brick wall.

James.

He grabbed her throat, cutting off her air supply.

She gasped under his grip until her face started to lose color.

Now real tears were falling from her eyes.

Especially when she felt her body give way.

David made his way over to the unconscious body. He picked her up gently before turning to the men. "You want vengeance? Go door to door. Find him. Deliver it."

And the preacher began to walk back to camp with Joel's most delicate and precious possession in his arms.

...............................................................

Tags: @lover-of-books-and-tea, @pedropascalfan221, @lottieellz101, @bambisweethearts, @hiroikegawa, @elliaze, @littleshadow17, @n7cje

[yourlocalcorviddad]

Saw a post about Danny calling Dani his little Comet, this one, and then I had an idea to and mix it with a favourite Hozier song, Work Song. Feel free to add or whatever if it strikes you!

-

"Ah, shh, shh little Comet, it's ok, I've got you."

The attempt at keeping his voice steady didn't really work, but he was sure he was keeping a good hold on his emotions at least, since Ellie was calming down in his hold. It didn't mean he wasn't panicking inside at the situation but he was managing. He only had to make it a few more weeks before the others could come, then everything would be safe.

He got her settled in his bed, sleeping and calm now. He had a crib for her, and Jordan too eventually, but he couldn't really stand the thought of them to far. So bed it was.

Both clone and future self had been deaged due to the damage taken, done at Frostbite's direction to heal and better stabilise both. Jordan's injuries had come in defence of both him and Ellie, and, like a weird mirror, Ellie's from defending him and the injured Jordan when he was to weakened from injuries to fight. Ellie had just been deaged from it Dan, who he decided was going to be called Jordan too give himself some separateness, was reverted to his core. In an effort to protect and give him time to heal, he has him inside himself, next to his own core. He'd been warned it meant that Dan would likely take on more of being like his child than his future self, but he just wanted him alive, not like he didn't have the risk of it anyway, at least this time it was under his control.

There was no hope of returning to his dimension, it had been clear at that point, but they had been trying to free all the ghosts they could and get all liminal people and their family rounded up to safety before the GIW got to them. Danny, as the heir prince-until he was of age for the throne at 100-was sent ahead to bridge trust with another dimension, this one in fact, to see it they could bring their people, his people, there.

Clockwork and the Ancients and Observants worked with his parents and the others from town, and other liminality touched people, to get everyone into the ghost zone, which he had leaned also got called the Infinite Realms, safely and cut off that dimension from it.

Apparently that's what most magical creatures had done to that one anyway, long ago. He'd even met the descendents of the witches that had been hunted by, and thus placed the curse on, his family back when Amity was a village.

They'd lifted the, severely weakened by then but still present, curse after apologies were made and explanations done. It was a relief, even though it is likely what had even held him tethered to life enough to become a halfa at all, but he felt more at ease now without it.

All in all, it led him to where he was now though. A new world, a new set of rules, similar but still so different, and two kids that were essentially his.

The sudden crash outside his window on the alley side had him rushing over, ready to defend as best he could, still healing from the injuries in the last fight with the GIW, in case it was a villain attacking.

Only to pause at the sight of the, now likely unconscious, blue and black clad vigilante in the dumpster below.

"Fuck... Well can't leave him, who knows who'd find him there."

It took a bit of work, and mild use of his weak but still present powers, but he got him up stairs and into his apartment onto the, comfortable if he said so himself, couch.

Once there, he checked him over for injuries, careful not to take the domino off and keeping him as clothed as possible, but tending to his wounds as best possible. Doing so, he realised the other was probably only about 20-21, close to his age at least. It made him wonder how long the other had been a hero, and made a thought to ask later.

For now he settled in to make some food -that hopefully wouldn't accidentally come alive again-and keep an eye on his daughter and the hero.

[urcursebreaker]

burning body waiting. (ellie williams x fem!reader)

read chapter 1 here | wattpad

warnings for this chapter— graphic gore/mentioned death, trauma, sexual content, thigh riding, oral (f!reader receiving), fingering (f!reader receiving), a bit of angst. | word count: 10.4k

chapter 2: a lesson in grief

Ellie

Two fucking days.

It's been two fucking days, and you're still here, an incessant thorn lodged in her fucking side.

She intended to lead you to your belongings and part ways without as much as a departing word; which was a display of kindness she didn't feel internally in itself. She could've just left you in that deteriorating garage with nothing but the gaping wound in your thigh and the mud-stained shirt on your back and let you crawl your way back to your gun.

Could've just left you in the forest to rot away in a puddle of your own blood.

But she fucking didn't. And she's really fucking pissed off about it.

When she killed those Seraphites it was purely for her own twisted gain; cleansing the already corrupted earth of those vile, cultish fucks was her honor. They were simply obstacles between her and the few sparing miles stretching to Lakehill. She never meant to be your Knight in shining fucking armor.

You would've been a perfect distraction for her to slip away unnoticed. While the Seraphites were preoccupied with tearing the trailer park to pieces to locate you, she could've saved her ammo, preserved her strength, darted right on by without them having even known she was invading their territory.

But then she heard your scream of pure, undiluted terror ricochet through the woods.

Admittedly, and only a little regretfully, she was going to disregard it. It wasn't her fight. She wasn't the dumbass who had walked directly into an open field of untouched goods.

But then she fucking saw you.

Running clumsily but lightening-quick down the hill, arms waving wildly, raw panic contorting your face, tears streaming down your mud-slicked cheeks.

Her heart had twinged at the sight. At the thought of your naïveté; how you likely celebrated the discovery of unopened canned foods and partially stabilized lodging and dusty comics and working tools. How you likely let yourself feel a flicker of hope, happiness, at the vast supplies.

She didn't feel sorry for the random woman who'd fallen victim to her hope; she resonated with the scared little girl that glinted in said woman's eyes.

You were lucky that little girl within you was still alive at all.

Maybe it's fucking weird or whatever, but there was a part of her that felt obligated to protect that tiny shred of innocence she saw. Like it was something she owed to her younger self.

Now, she assesses you thoughtfully from over her shoulder, her grip loose but present on her switchblade.

You wrestle the weight of your shotgun and overflowing backpack, face sweat-slicken and scrunched in extortion, eyes trained hazardously on the rocky hill, concentrated on not toppling over. Your hair is unbound and tousled, coiling from the humidity, damp from earlier's rain.

She thinks of you the other morning, in the pond. Water beading down your soft face, darkening your murky hair. Your tanktop transparent and clinging to every crevice and curve of your body. Your nipples puckering against the thin, sheer fabric. Spurting breaths unconsciously fleeing your wet, slightly agape mouth, lips shining with spit and oily water, eyes fluttering.

Something in her tightens and coils at the thought, before methodically unraveling and spreading through her limbs. She shivers, discreetly flexing her fingers, redirecting her attention forward and picking up her pace.

"How much further?" You groan breathlessly, shrugging up the strap of your gun. "My calves burn."

And just like that, the carnal fucking thoughts dissipate. She screws her eyes tightly shut, expelling a deep breath. "Not too much longer. Gonna make it?" She shoots in bland amusement over her shoulder.

You groan again, tipping your head back, letting the guttural sound echo through the swaying trees. "Where are we even going again?"

"There's a hospital up here." She responds vaguely, gesturing idly ahead with her inked-up hand.

"The hospitals were the first places to be raided, you know that, right?" You breathe conspiratorially, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.

"Obviously I fucking know that," she grits out defensively, and you chuckle at the spearing look she stabs at you. "But it's been rehabilitated like six fucking times, so, who really fucking knows what's there."

The truth is, she couldn't give less of a single shit about medicine or injections or the sealed away cure to fucking cancer. Lakehill Seattle Hospital is one of the Washington Liberation Front's many bases. Even if Abby isn't there, one of her fucking cronies might be; and if it's empty, there will be plenty of signs carelessly thrown around that will lead her straight to where they've scurried off to.

She's killed one of them; and there were however many left standing between her and Abby left to go.

She wants her blood. She wants it to stain her hands, wants to taste it in the crevices of her teeth. She wants to take it slow; disable her with a shot to the leg. Pin her to the wall as she writhes and gripes in pain, pleading for mercy, spewing meaningless apologies. Take a club to her head over, and over, and over again, until her face is an unidentifiable, sinking pile of mush.

Just like she did to Joel.

There's only one thing she wants more than to beat her to a pulp, watch the light vanish from her eyes.

She wants to teach her a lesson. A lesson in grief. Let her feel how it feels to lose someone. Many, many someones.

To lose everything.

She wouldn't stop until the Liberation was up in flames at the match she struck. Until every member that weaved the group together was untethered from its seams. Until every mark they made on this stupid fucking earth was erased, deconstructed.

She was going to find, and she was going to kill, every last one of them.

But she had to get you out of the way first. She couldn't get you involved, couldn't drag you down her relentless warpath. She wasn't totally uncivilized; it was just a matter of deviating from you.

Your lingering presence went unspoken; she didn't comment on your overstay, and you didn't elaborate on why you're still here, a persistent jab in her fucking back. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to discard you, to tell you to fuck off.

It's not that she had any doubt you could hold your own; if you were trekking Seattle alone save for the company of your blind brother, you must possess an air of endurance, have a useful arsenal of skills. Surviving alone is one thing. Protecting yourself and someone else is another.

Joel did it. And the both of them narrowly evaded death with every day they confronted the outside world.

You must be pretty fucking awesome to have made it this far— that is if you were telling the truth.

"You said you were from Ohio, right?" Ellie questioned bleakly, modestly. She wanted to inquire without blatantly prying. You'd kept your personal information under lock and key, clearly only divulging what you'd thought was necessary to appease her. She could respect that.

"Uhuh," you hum absently, licking the sweat off your upper lip, patting your forehead dry with your blemished sleeve. "Like a year ago."

The rest of her interrogation falls short when they crest the hill they'd been ascending, the expired cities lamented, desolate barrenness greeting them unbiddenly. Dark clouds loom in a dreary overcast, shadowing the crumbling, half-toppled buildings. The sparse buildings that do stand are garnished in overgrowth, shriveled vines and coils of cordyceps spattering up their walls. Runners grunt down below, aimlessly roaming the clearing. Ellie soaks it in critically, already internally noting points to avoid, the best trails to take.

"Wow, cool view, huh?" You blurt boisterously, a bright grin plastered to your lips. You dangle your forearm over Ellie's shoulder, leaning your full weight into her, your panting fettering her ear. She tenses, slicing you a glare, before averting her gaze back to the unlively city.

The sun peaks shyly through the clouds, illuminating your beaming expression. You take it all in with plain interest, eyes devouring the sight before you. "I've never seen Seattle from up here," you muse in amazement, marveling at what Ellie deemed unflattering scenery.

Lakehill gleams like a beacon under the sunlight, the mirror panels radiating a sharp glare. "There," Ellie points to it obscurely, taking a couple calculated steps down the hill. Toward the growling, twitching infected. "We should make it by nightfall."

Your eyes flicker from hers, and the steep, impending hill. Your lip curls idly in disgust. Ellie shifts her weight, sinking into the soil, eyeing you closely. She unwaveringly extends her hand, not removing her gaze from yours, hoping she's translating reassurance through her eyes and not the impatience she feels churning inside.

You eye her hand uncertainly, the hesitation ripe and blooming on your face. After a moment of consideration you take it, reluctantly eloping your hand with hers, your eyes still cautiously trained on her.

You're extremely expressive; every emotion paints your face when you feel it. Ellie didn't need to know you long to know this about you. She liked it. Liked being able to tell if you're lying. Liked knowing something she said made you fight your amusement...

Ellie realizes she'd been staring at you, immobile, unblinking, and rapidly shakes her head. She gives your hand a reflexive squeeze before clearing her throat and swiveling away. She says nothing as she attentively maneuvers you behind her, steering you around upended rocks, guiding you over dry-rotting logs.

Your pant leg catches on a suspended branch and you squeak, stumbling forward, your grip tightening on Ellie's hand. She skitters forward, instinctively throwing her arm out in front of you, barring you from tumbling down the hill.

"Careful." She drawls quietly, studying you as you breathe alertedly, your hand imprisoning hers in a vice grip. Her eyes loiter on you for only a second before she's resuming her strides down the winding hill, proceeding carefully, overly conscious of the crevices of your palm, fused with hers.

She tries not to focus on the tangible thrumming of your pulse against her wrist, or the sweat lapping between your conjoined hands. She tries to focus on not tripping, and hurling you both into the midst of wandering, fiending infected.

But the way you keep crushing her hand with each unbalanced stride is slightly distracting. She swears there was a time where your thumb brushed over her knuckles, and whether intentionally or not, she found her heart rate skyrocketing at the delicate caress.

What a fucking loser.

One girl touches her for a split second and she nearly explodes. Doesn't help that the girl is pretty.

Like really fucking stupidly pretty.

Acting right is hard enough when all she has the energy to entertain is the hatred festering in her heart. Acting right when a pretty girl is holding her hand and trailing her like a lost, grateful puppy is another kind of self-control entirely.

You release her suddenly, snapping her out of her stupor. She watches as you twist away with a grunt; drilling a blade through the gnarly, decomposing eye socket of a runner. "He snuck up on us," you breathe harshly, eyebrows furrowed with disdain, as you gyrate the knife slowly, penetrating the writhing cluster of cordyceps sprouting from its gaping hole for an eye.

Ellie watched blankly as it crumpled to the ground with a series of disgruntled chokes. Inwardly, she's horrified that she'd allowed her thoughts to drift so far she'd missed an attack.

"Motherfucker," she snarls furiously, the anger more at herself and less at the mindless infected, shredding your knife out of its deformed head and shoving it back into your hand.

She storms down the remainder of the hill, not even glancing back to confirm you're following, her face scathing with humility, her bones tingling with irritation.

She could hear Joel now; don't ever let your guard down. Luck is what's kept you alive all this time, and it's gonna run out.

If he were here she'd tell him luck wasn't the reason she was still standing.

It was him.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

You

You examine the tray of untouched medical tools in fascination, picking up a scalpel and turning it over, admiring its polished shine. "Looks like there is some stuff here," you admit half-heartedly, glancing at Ellie.

She hovers in the corner of the vacated operation room, her shotgun loaded and braced by both of her hands. She nods curtly, noncommittally, her eyes darting over the expansive wall of glass.

She'd been adjacent to silent your entire downtown journey. After the incident on the hill, she acknowledged you a total of three times; each time being a swift, cursory sweep of her gaze after an encounter with infected, just to ensure you weren't bitten or injured, before whipping back around and continuing her dedicated avoidance of you.

Her shoulders are high-strung, a crisp clarity steadfast in her eyes. You're halfway through your clearance of the first floor, and this is what she's done; loomed in the corner and observed. She looked like she was waiting for something to leap unexpectedly from the shadows and rip the gun out of her grasp.

Though it was blatant she was uneasy, you didn't dare question her apprehension. You had a feeling that if you called attention to her current state, she'd snap.

She seems fragile; not like a piece of pristine, hand-painted porcelain, but like a bomb without its pin, waiting to erupt.

"Ellie?" You drawl tentatively, and she jolts, flicking her anxious gaze to you. "Do you wanna split up to cover more ground? Come together with what we find?" You offer meekly, teetering a line of safety and coaxing her out of her mood-spell.

She blinks. "You look around. I'm gonna clear the rest of the building. I saw some spores outside, so there's probably some fucking infected in here somewhere."

Out of fear of how she'll react if you insinuate that she requires your aid, you don't offer to accompany her, even though you should. Especially if the enormous, pulsating spores you saw winding up the exterior of the building were any indication of what lurked within. "Sure," you chirp with forced invigoration, flashing her a tight, agreeing smile. "Be careful!"

She files out of the rusted double-doors without another word, as if she were a Venus fly trap, waiting for its prey before snapping open its haunches.

You frown warily as you watch her go, one foot ready to stride after her, the other rooted in place.

Of course you choose to stay. You've already taken many risks just by following her all the way out here. You won't risk making her regret letting you.

For the past long, laborious hours of enduring Ellie's quiet, simmering rage, regret for staying has muddled your thoughts.

It's just that after the ambush at the trailer park, you felt strangely wronged. Like it was staged, put on just to test you. Seraphite's do not stray far from their bases; meaning you'd directly trespassed on one. You find it difficult to believe that Abby was sending you into enemy territory unknowingly, and the thought of her blindsiding you makes the already minimal contents in your stomach churn.

The trust you harbored for the WLF was already  precarious; though they were hospitable enough to give you a place to stay and a sliver of their rations, it wasn't without forfeit. You'd confiscated your dignity to comply to their orders, to slave away at their command. They tripled your watch shifts and withdrew your bathing privileges if you failed to report something you saw. You'd jeopardized your safety, obliging when they sent you out on detrimental, useless expeditions to check an already cleared garage on the outskirts of camp. Just to cement your place in their uncompromising group.

Zander, your brother, seems to have immersed himself into the group seamlessly. He besotted Owen and Abby within two days of your arrival; by the end of week one he was already cozying up with them in their tent, indulging in their classified stash of whiskey, their rowdy, boisterous laughter blaring throughout the late hours of the night.

At 3a.m. he'd routinely fumble into the tent and plummet to the rumpled sleeping bag next to you, his breath reeking of alcohol, his slurring words too loud as he bid them goodnight. Every time, you let him believe you miraculously slept through the noise, before swiveling over and shooting him a slicing glare he couldn't see.

"Could you be any louder?" You'd say, overselling the mild irritation you felt at his intrusion to compensate for the fact he couldn't see the disapproving frown blossoming on your lips.

"Could you be any boring-er?" He'd singsong back, fidgeting with his socks, peeling them off and tossing them to the corner. "You could join us, you know. Get to know them a bit. They're pretty cool."

And every time you'd decline. Not because you're a tedious prude who loathes social interaction.

Because the one time you did intend to join them, you were clearly not welcome.

When you benignly chipped into the conversation, or forcefully chuckled at their admittedly unfunny jokes, they would exchange covert looks. Sometimes, you'd catch Abby's eyes analyzing your face, her expression hard, her mouth twisted as she watched you throw back the whiskey that she offered you, unprompted.

You were thankful for the shelter, the semblance of protection, but you were not going to feign companionship with people who were consistently questioning your usefulness, contemplating your personality, debating if you were someone they wanted to accept into their inner circle. Which seemed to be made up of every single one of them except for you.

By facing their challenge and putting yourself through their warped initiation process, you stupidly hoped you'd return, that they would gain a newfound respect for you, shower you in approval, and finally perceive you as the soldier you have the full capacity to be.

Yet, you narrowly made it out alive. If it weren't for Ellie, the cruel but kind stranger, you would be dead. Do you even have the right to wish for their respect? Their acceptance? Did you even have the right to grapple for belonging in the conditions of this world?

For now, it's comforting enough to know that at least your brother has found his place among them; to know he's cared for beyond just existing as an open mouth to feed, beyond being a liability that drains their resources and has yet to prove serviceable.

He's their friend. You're his desperate, too-eager-to-be-liked little sister, laughing at all the wrong times and budding in when you aren't addressed.

So here you are, all these conflicting thoughts warring for dominance in your mind: you want to go back to where you know it's moderately safe, by your brothers side, where there's food and an assured place to rest your head.

But you also want to plunge further down this uncharted path. Want to follow the freckled stranger through the thick of the dejecting forest, see where her blinding determination will take you. Let her lead you through the sad, true state of the world.

It was time to sate your unquenchable curiosity; time to find the belonging you'd been seeking. Time to find a place like home.

Though you doubt you'll find it with the hellbent girl, she'd already taught you things you'd never known, shown you places you'd never seen: she may not be the most reliable companion, but you discovered something new with each hour you trudged by her side.

And that was better than repeating the cycle of unspoken scorn back at camp. At least for now.

A deafening gunshot ricochets through the sky; reverberating through the building, rumbling the floor, disrupting the stillness of the vacant hospital. You pause where you were rummaging through a squeaky laboratory cabinet, fear seizing your heart. You stagger clumsily up to your feet and rush to the closed door, peaking out through the sliver of zagged glass.

Ellie had been gone for over an hour. Time had slipped like refined silk through your fingers; she should've been back by now, and you should've noticed earlier. What if the Seraphites had sniffed out your trail and followed you here?

Anxiety creeps in, lodging icily in your chest, fizzing like half-melted frost. You should be there, fending them off alongside her. What if she dies, or gets bit, and you have no way of getting back to your brother?

Flashes of her, doused in crimson and death glinting iniquitously in her wan eyes, easily, remorselessly moving through the motions of murder after murder, filter through your mind. Quickly dissolving any apprehension and concern you had for her.

You had an eery suspicion she wasn't on the receiving end of that gunshot.

A slight smile subconsciously tugs at your lips as you pocket the vial of mystery liquid you found and withdraw your blade, hazardously peeling the door open, the hinges screeching even at your deliberate slowness. You wince at the splitting noise, glancing down both ends of the long, empty hallway.

Another gunshot rents the muggy afternoon air, followed shortly by another. You can't precisely pinpoint the distance of the sound, but it must not be far, for a bird perched on the glass-littered windowsill flocks away with a loud, disgruntled chirp.

You sheathe your knife and instead scoop up your shotgun from where you'd leaned it on the wall, doing another cautionary sweep of the floor you were on. As expected, it was free of any infected or Seraphites.

You're about to do a second clearing of the abandoned surgery room when the main double doors to the floor boom open thunderously, sending you reeling back, fumbling to aim your gun at the intrusion.

Ellie hovers there, chest heaving with her strained breaths, her eyebrows furrowed as she surveys you with faint recognition in her eyes.

"Jesus, Ellie!" You curse through barred teeth, glowering, dropping your aim to the tarnished concrete floor. "You scared the shit out of me!"

She sniffles, blinking lethargically, smearing the faint spatter of blood off her gleaming forehead. "Sorry," she mumbles noncommittally, smoothly sliding her blood-tainted crowbar into her backpack from over her shoulder.

"You okay? Was that gunshots I heard?" You press unapologetically, taking a couple hesitant half-steps toward her, your eyebrows crinkled in concern as you analyze her from head to toe. She's unharmed, save for a variety of new bruises budding on her face.

"Yeah. A couple infected," she states vaguely, sniffling sharply, hurriedly rushing by. The gust of her forceful strides feathers the hair out of your face, and you stumble over your feet as you march after her.

"Only a few? That's good." You pry bleakly, airily, her impressive muscles straining against her shirt. Her dusty, dark-washed jeans accentuate her legs and ass as she strides with purpose toward the rows of deteriorating rooms.

You swallow harshly and avert your straying attention upward, her loosening half-bun bouncing with her movements. "Yeah," she replies absently.

Silence.

After a moment she clears her throat, coming to an abrupt stop; you nearly collide into her back, gripping her waist to stabilize yourself.

"Sorry!" You squeak, nervously snapping your hand away, the pads of your fingers tingling from where they'd touched her. Your cheeks heat coyly as she flashes you a haughty, knowing smirk.

"The rooms upstairs are in decent condition. There's beds and stuff. We should settle there for the night." She says, her head canted to examine the view from one of the expansive, glassless windows, the dewy sun gradually dipping below the horizon.

"Sounds good to me," you chime, offering a meek smile, watching the sunlight enhance the streams of deep, pacific-blue splitting through her crystalline irises.

Her eyes steadily settle back on you. You have to physically resist the urge to bawk at her acute, engrossing stare, your smile strengthening sheepishly.

She visibly suppresses the careful smile blooming on her own lips, her mouth twitching, before she gulps and swivels back around, declaring a simple, "Get all your shit and meet me upstairs."

You stick your tongue out at her back and oblige.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

The twinkling stars glisten beyond the grimy window emphatically, brightly. The moon's a beaming cuticle crescent, hanging low, the caverns and craters glaringly illuminated by its intense glow. The hollow, desolate buildings sit eerily across the idle city, creaking stridently with the breeze.

Back at the farmhouse in Ohio— the one with the peeling, floral, yellow-wallpapered walls and splintered mahogany stairs; your childhood home— your mother used to creep into you and your brothers shared room, sandwich herself between your already cloistered bodies on the dingy mattress, and envelop each of you with a tattooed arm.

In which both of you would groggily nestle in close, already hanging onto every word about to flea from her lips.

Every night, she'd tell you about the world before it was upturned; before the pandemic swept in.

But specifically, she'd always veer back to the sky. How much it changed since death waged a war over the earth and ultimately claimed a brutal victory.

Her voice direct and soft, she always pointed lazily out the window and lulled wistfully, "See the stars? How close they feel? How bright they are?" and when you'd both nod wearily against the gentle thrumming of her heart, she'd say, "That's the one thing I like better than I did before. Before, the city lights were so bright, you could barely make out the stars through the pollution. Now, they look like they're in reach."

She'd ruefully, dreamily extend her fingers, urging you to mime her, and trace the shapes of the stars, you and Zander following suit, chuckling.

"And having you guys," she'd add swiftly, rubbing maternal, alleviating circles into your arms, glancing at each of you with a doting smile. "If the world hadn't ended, I wouldn't have met your daddy, Zan. Then I wouldn't have you or your sister." She'd smile solemnly at the thought and peck each of you on the cheek before squirming out from under you and sneaking off the bed, where you were already dozing off.

There was always a bright, gentle smile plastered to her lips as she reminisced on the luxuries and simple complexities of life back then. You and Zander couldn't help but smile, too, at the thought of what life could've been like.

After, she'd study your sleeping faces before inching out of the room and down the boisterous, exposing stairs and outside. To where your dad was keeping watch. Your dad was always outside, stationed on the porch, shotgun propped against his leg, whiskey in his bandaged hand. She'd curl up on his lap and kiss his face numb, fall asleep there as he scanned for any wandering infected or worse; heartless scavengers.

His hand was always bandaged. Always.

Zander told you once that before you were ever born, and shortly after his mothers death, him and your dad were trekking through an overgrown ice rank when a clicker sprung on him unexpectedly— and shredded a thick, gnarly chunk out of his hand, tendons and all.

He said he'd seen it all happen with his very eyes; saw the venom of the bite fissure and bubble against his blood, saw it solidify into the scars on his skin.

But he never got sick.

Ever.

You assume it was just another drunken lie, a story he'd fabricated, a creativity he'd inherited from your mom.

Especially after he got infected on a raid; went rabid and frothing at the mouth, growling pleadingly for your mother just to shoot him.

But she'd been bitten too.

And instead of pulling the trigger, they'd ripped each others throats out, ate down to the bone, clawed one another into unsalvageable, gory pieces. They'd devoured each other. So violently and grotesquely that neither of them even fully turned; the cordyceps withered and died before they could even officially transition, because there was scarcely a scrap left for them to feed on.

A small part of you found solace in the notion that they were dead, as opposed to walking deadly among the living. You felt at peace knowing that if there's an afterlife, they were there together.

Zander didn't share that sentiment.

He was the one who found them. Jumbled, tethered shreds of chewed flesh, heaps of bones, two rotting, skinless heads. He'd only been able to identify the remains because of the torn layer of your mothers tattooed skin and the detached, scarred hand of your father.

He returned to the camp you had set up, where you were perched impatiently by the dimming fire, encompassed by two young men and a little boy your parents fostered on the expedition through Illinois. The men laughed raucously, stirring their canned beans. The little boy repeatedly kicked up a half-deflated soccer ball; the constant thud of his knee against the ball grating your nerves.

The look of pure devastation and horror in Zander's eyes will eternally be seared into your brain; will forever brand your thoughts, claim your nightmares. He didn't have to say anything; couldn't say anything, his jaw clenched so tight, he fractured a tooth and his gums started bleeding.

You were only fifteen at the time. He'd strolled right past your heaving, seizing frame, where you'd fell onto the ground and unleashed blood-curdling screams, until you vomited all over the frost-tipped grass. The men rushed over to you, hollering, shaking you fervently, the little boy hovering a safe distance back in tactile fear, ball weakly tucked under his arm.

None of them checked on Zander, who'd sealed himself off in your shared tent. To this day you curse them for that; even though rationally, they were clearly terrified, bewildered by your outburst, having not witnessed what passed between you and your brother.

It wasn't until a deep, petrifying scream of fatal agony split through the smoke-hazed sky, that the men released you and dashed for his tent.

You were lucky enough not to see the outcome of your parents brutal death.

But the luck must've ran out. It must've thought it let you off too easy.

For when they hurriedly unzipped the tent, you had an unobstructed view of what knelt inside; Zander, two blades protruding from the holes where his eyes used to be, gallons of blood pouring down his cheeks, drenching his shirt a red so deep it was nearly black.

The world went silent, a high-pitched ringing cleaving your skull. No noise escaped his open, blubbering mouth, where he projected chunky bits of blood and flim. The little boy rightfully scampered off, and you never did end up finding him.

There's a featherlight knock on the door to your chosen room and you're thrown from the trenches of your harrowing memories. You blink harshly, hot tears slithering down your cheeks, as you tighten your grasp on Baby the blue bear.

It was Zander's old baby bear; a faded, graying blue bear, missing a beaded eye, the ears crinkled and sullied from drool. The droopy stomach stitched and partially hollow from all the stuffing it's lost over the past twenty years.

He'd passed it down to you for your sixth birthday, claiming that he, twelve years old, was a man, and it was time for who was once named 'Barney' the blue bear to belong to someone who could love him. He'd seen how you'd enviously pined after Barney, the way you'd watched curiously as he tucked Barney into bed next to him at night. Most mornings, Zander would wake to you snuggling the blue bear. You never had a childhood object of your own to latch onto as you slept.

You always only had your brother.

He let you rename him to make him your own, and you chose Baby. That was always how your mom and dad addressed you; never by your name, and it filled you with immense joy. You thought it would make him happy, too.

For Zander's birthday a few years ago, you tried to gift Baby the blue bear back to him as a playful joke, as he was turning twenty-one and you thought he would find humor in marking adulthood with his old childhood friend.

Instead, he'd ran his fingers over the fraying bear, felt the groove of its missing eye, and slammed him to the ground, storming away without another word.

You're embarrassed to admit you waste substantial bag space to store the blue bear. But it's times like these, where you're separated from Zander and far from safety as you know it, that you're glad you kept him around.

Ellie says your name. Cautiously, like you'd call a stray cat, unsure if it will lunge an attack or roll over and bear you its belly.

You jolt, whipping around, finding her lingering a few feet away, her hand extended as if she were reaching to touch you. Her eyes dart to the bear clutched frightfully to your chest and back to your tear-slicked face.

"Is that a teddy bear?" She cocks a brow, her tone jesting and nonjudgemental despite the disbelieving look on her face.

You sniffle and aggressively swivel away, scowling at her in the reflection of the window. "It's my brothers," you say defensively, embracing him in your lap, resting him on your crossed legs.

"How old is your brother again?" She muses, the mild humor growing in her tone as you glare daggers at her. "Right. Anyways," she expels a huffy laugh, tossing her hands up in surrender as your glower sharpens.

She continues, unaffected by your irritated stare. "I found a heater in my room. There was a generator downstairs, I'm gonna try to kick that shit on. I was gonna ask you if you could stand by the heater and tell me if it works while I pump it."

You wipe the snot off the tip of your nose, humming and nodding softly in agreement, hopping off the disjointed hospital bed, your socks thumping into the concrete. You lay Baby down on top of the debris-flaked sheet and trail after Ellie, as she'd already whisked out of the room before you'd even responded.

"I'll run down there real quick, just yell if anything happens, okay?" She instructs swiftly, and you nod, slipping into the room next to yours, where she was staying.

The room was impressively put together compared to the others; a pair of white sheers dangled from the crooked overhead railing. There was no mobile hospital bed, just a full-sized mattress strewn across the middle of the floor. A rusted, transportable heater resting on the rubble of a broken nightstand.

You waltz over and plug the knotted cord into the collapsing outlet, bouncing on your heels as you watch it sit there, unmoving. You decide to move it off the debris, tugging it off the splintered wood, grunting at the unexpected heaviness.

A few minutes pass before a frail fluorescent light flickers on from the hallway; followed by the sputtering of the heater, before an orange light flashes on and a wave of dusty heat gutters out, blasting you in the face.

"Oh! Oh, Ellie, it's working!" You shriek in surprise and triumph, jumping up and down giddily, clapping your cold hands in delight. You scamper to the door and scream out, "It's working!"

You cough and bat the swirling plumes of dust out of the air, squinting and smiling to yourself. Ellie rushes in, a hint of relief blooming on her face. "I saw the lights come on," she informs breathily, saddling up beside you, warming her chapped hands in front of the musty heater.

You mimic her, reaching out your hands, turning them over, making sure the heat reaches every crevice. "This room is in pretty good shape," you tell her, examining the dull, cracked painting of a golden pathos mounted to the wall, the old box television face down on a pallet of wood. It looks like it was likely rehabilitated but shortly abandoned.

"Yeah," she huffs, a weak display of laughter, wriggling her tense fingers. "I'll take the other room, so you can have the heat."

"How chivalrous," you giggle, rolling your eyes humorously. She flushes at the joke, her cheeks rosy beneath the smattering of freckles. "You aren't trading me, dummy. We'll share the room."

"Are you sure?" She blurts quickly, her eyebrows elevated in befuddlement.

You provide her a warm smile. "Of course. If that's okay with you...?"

"Yes!" she exclaims brazenly, clearing her throat in mortification at the volume and urgency in which she agreed. "I meant, yeah. Cool."

You chuckle openly at her humiliation. "I've always wanted to have a sleepover!" You babble in exhilaration, hoping to quell her discomfort.

"Yay," she deadpans, monotone, though there's still that particle of a smile as she watches you skip out of the room, heading back to collect your belongings.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

It takes an hour of cleaning up before the two of you are ready to settle for the night. She swept shards of glass off the floor, depositing them out the window, letting them rain down in a series of echoing shatters. You wandered the dimly-illuminated hall and collected the cleanest blanket you could find, beating the sheet against the air, dust and drywall flaking off.

You and Ellie worked together to drape it over the mattress, deigning to lay atop of it as not to touch the drying blood blemishing it. She wordlessly claims the right side, the side nearest the window, as she stands by it and begins to undress.

She shucks off her collared, unbuttoned shirt, unveiling her filthy, once white tanktop. You catch yourself staring intently as she releases her hair of the bun, short, choppy brown waves of hair flowing down the length of her neck. She kicks off her grubby, tearing Converse' and turns to face you.

Her eyes flit over yours for only a millisecond before you're dropping your gaze, clumsily peeling off your jacket and heedlessly tossing it to the floor by your boots.

Ellie reclines on the mattress, crossing her ankles, resting her head on one arm, closing her eyes briefly. You leave her to rest as you crouch down and pillage through your backpack, extracting Baby from where you'd shamefully shoved him back inside after getting caught cradling him.

You twist back around, jolting when you catch Ellie staring down at you from the length of her nose. You languidly, hesitantly, crawl across the mattress, training your eyes on hers as you plop down on the empty spot next to her.

You immediately realize how small the bed is.

Your sides are essentially conjoined; forearms brushing with each breath, legs resting up against one another, as both of you lay there in silence. Neither of you try to sleep. You analyze the ceiling, the pipes and wires suspended from the exposed plywood. Holding your breath each time she incidentally grazes you, warmth flaring in your belly at the whisper of a caress.

You feel a puddle of sweat accumulate against your back, grease your forehead, dampen your skin. You're not sure if it's from the heater or the awareness of her body flush with yours that's making you hot.

You squirm in discomfort, stretching a leg off the mattress, unbuttoning your jeans. Ellie's head snaps over at the movement skittishly, as if jarred by you moving as opposed to only bristling.

You angle your head to face her, smiling sleepily as you leisurely undo each button. "S'it okay if I take these off?"

She swallows. Watches your hand undo the final button, before dipping into the waistband, lifting your ass off the mattress and slowly wriggling them down. Her fingers twitch at her side, tickling your thigh— you shudder, nibbling your bottom lip in concentration at the ghost of her touch, staring into her eyes, the intimacy of your nearness emboldening you.

"Go ahead," she blurts suddenly, chagrinly, fully flipping over onto her side and away from you.

You kick your wrinkled jeans onto the floor, rolling over to face her back, your breaths fanning the nape of her neck. Her shoulders and back heave with each forced, deliberate breath. You count the tiny moles pocking her neck and revealed shoulder, fearing that you had misread the unspoken.

You'd seen how she's been looking at you.

Every time you demanded yourself to extract your attention off of her, you could feel her penetrative eyes in your periphery, could feel them roving you over in a thorough, self-serving inspection. Meticulously eyeing you up and down, as if committing your image to memory, retaining the curves of your body and the makings of your features.

Like the other morning in the pond, when she took you in with torturous precision, the sensation of her carving eyes branding you in phantom proprietary marks. You could still feel the heat of her stare in all the places she'd touched you with her eyes.

She devoured the sight of you like a predator observes it's prey; ravenous but patient. Thirsting for blood, but fiending for the hunt.

There was definitely attraction on your end. She's the scariest but most beautiful thing you've ever seen; a treasure trove beaming with riches and thrumming with traps. She's like an avalanche, the snow is iridescent and glittering under the sun but it's also hurtling at you at a deadly pace.

You thought the attraction was reciprocated from the impact you had on her just by teasingly flirting; she'd flush and awkwardly spin away to shield the embarrassment creeping onto her face. Maybe it was just making her uncomfortable, not flustered.

Your eyes begin burning with exhaustion, the fatigue causing your eyes to droop, your galloping heart rate steadying— when Ellie's voice cuts raggedly through the silence.

"What about your brother?"

"Hm?" You question drearily, shifting, your lips nearly pressed to her shoulder. "What about him?"

"Isn't he expecting you?"

"Huh?" You bleat, flinching when she whips back around, tucking her arms beneath her head as she studies your face. There's only a few, precarious inches separating you.

"You said you were traveling with your brother," she utters, glancing down at Baby, compressed between your sweat-sleeked bodies, your only true barrier.

At that, she lifts him off the mattress, admiring him plainly, before setting him down above your heads and imperceptibly inching her hips closer.

"Yeah," you reply, fumbling for the lie you'd construed, taking it by the ends and tying it into an intricate bow. It's difficult to focus when you're only inches apart, her even breaths tickling your lips, her eyes attentive and abutting. "We have a camp. Not too far from that old house. He's not expecting me to come back for another few days. I told him I'd be gone awhile."

"Mm. He must still be worried about you, hm?" Her voice is husky and low as she drawls the words tiredly, blinking at you slowly, your lashes nearly chafing.

"Maybe. Or he can sense that I'm in good hands," you mutter teasingly, flashing her a coy smile when she seems to liven up at the insinuation.

"Yeah?" She murmurs, eyes flickering over your face, evaluating for any sincerity.

Your heart threatens to burst out of your chest at her nearness, her raspy voice. You nod timidly and hum a simpering, "mhm."

She pensively wets her lips and your eyes absently trail the movement of her tongue. You feel yourself gravitating closer to her, your bare thigh hiked up against the rough surface of her jeans, your pelvis aligned with her thigh, your lips a breathscape apart.

"Ellie?" You whisper gently.

She smiles grimly. Your name drawls from her lips in a deep, devastatingly soft rumble, the pads of her cold, calloused fingers dubiously coming up to brush your cheek. "You're so pretty."

A light, delicate gasp bursts unexpectedly out of you at her cool touch, your eyes fluttering shut. The praise sends a shiver up your spine. Her thumb unfurls to trace the shape of your lip.

"Look at me," she mumbles, and you obey, the unannounced authority in her gentle command sending your eyes snapping back open.

Her pupils are dilated, darkness infiltrating her tantalizing eyes. She runs her rough fingers contemplatively down the curve of your bottom lip, dragging it out in fascination.

You blindly part your lips for her access, humming in delight when she takes the right of passage, easing her thumb past your welcoming lips.

She inhales sharply as you draw your tongue across the crease of her thumb, sealing your lips around her knuckle.

"Jesus fucking christ," she breathes in awe, her fingers firmly clasping your chin as she indulgently thrusts her thumb in and out, watching it disappear into your plush mouth.

Her free hand slithers up the hem of your cami. Following the dip of your waist. Diligently gliding down and spanning over the curve of your hip, roaming to your backside. She cups your ass, suddenly steering you closer, the force behind her claiming touch igniting a deep-rooted flame of desire within you.

Your responding whimper is muffled against her thumb, and she chuckles darkly, slipping it out. A lecherous string of saliva bridges from your lips to her thumb. She considers it for a moment before taking it into her mouth, sucking it clean of your spit, her cheeks hollowed and eyes lust-filled as she gazed back at you.

"Ellie," you repeat gutturally, her name departing from your lips in a desperate whimper as she torments you with her slothful, patient movements.

She removes her thumb from her mouth with a potent pop. "Come here," she directs, greedily snatching your face into her hands, hungrily slamming her lips into yours.

The kiss was addictively electrifying. Lightening seared through your body in lascivious bolts, kindling warmly in your belly, as you feathered your fingers through her auburn hair in a fruitless attempt of fusing her into you. You match the dire intensity of her lips, duplicate it, eagerly inviting her tongue into your wanting mouth.

You carefully ascend off the mattress, sitting up, your lips never detaching, hands never abandoning one another; roving each other fervently, as if the other will evaporate if not constantly palpable in each others hands.

You lift a leg and straddle one of her thighs, cautiously hovering over her, not wanting to bombard her; though your pussy was pulsating, reflexively bucking in the air, craving pressure. Ellie must sense this, for she viciously seizes your hips and forces you to fully bear your weight down, a groan of pleasure rumbling from her lips, vibrating against yours.

You mewl, gently sinking your teeth into her bottom lip, nibbling sensually, before drawing it out. She huffs in surprise, arching off the bed to follow your lips, one arm propping her up, the other gleaning up your waist, holding you in place, her tattoo stark against your pliant skin.

She begins grinding her knee up and you squeak out a stunned moan, your lips unlocking from hers in a carnally sticky pop as you throw your head back at the delicious sensation of her jeans against your wet pussy. "Fuck," you pant out, giggling, planting your trembling hands on her flexing shoulders. "That feels so good."

She grips your hips assertively, guiding you into a grinding rhythm against her thigh, another whimper fleeing you from the friction.

"Yeah?" she mutters, and you nod robustly, crashing your slick forehead into hers, breathing into her open mouth.

"Yeah," you reply airily, shortening your jumbled response with another kiss to her lips.

The sensation was blissful and new; you were inexperienced save for the few times you'd played with yourself when you got a rare spout of privacy, and the time you jerked off a man you were traveling with when you were sixteen.

You'd never felt anything like this before; the way your skin erupts with goosebumps in the wake of her touch, the way your lips tingle with desire, the puddle pooling in your panties at the unfamiliar, pleasurable pressure building in your clit.

You instinctively increase your pace at the mounting pleasure, bucking your hips wildly, sloppily, threading your fingers through her hair and deepening the kiss. She delicately pulls away, sweeping her veiny hands up the length of your bare back, hiking your shirt up.

You pause and wordlessly lift your arms. She smiles roguishly, masterfully peeling it over your head, the static tousling your hair. She tosses it to the side without regard, her mouth agape as she admired your puckered nipples.

"Fuck," she seethes in disbelief, grounding the curse through gritted teeth, winding her hands up your stomach to ardently palm them in her hands. You moan as her thumbs tweak your hardened nipples, massaging expertly, another labored "fuck" exiting her watering mouth as she stares intently at your exposed breasts.

"You like that?" You taunt with a dreary, blissful smile, resuming your thrusts against her thigh as she nods, quickly engulfing an arm around your waist and pulling herself up to level her mouth with one of your breasts.

She peers up at you questioningly from beneath stern eyebrows, her eyes captivating and tainted with need. You nod feverishly, the exhilaration and desperation for her holding you hostage, held at gunpoint by your ripened desire.

She wastes no time latching her lips around your aching nipple, the feeling of her hot tongue sending you arching back, a raw, animalistic sound shredding from you. "Ellie, please," you breathe, unsure of precisely what you're begging for. More? More of her. More of her tongue. More of her hands?

Yes. All of the above.

"What do you want?" Ellie demands, one of your tits in her hand, the other slick with her saliva as she vigorously kisses up your sternum, nipping at your collarbone, dragging her tongue up your throat, your sweat relinquishing bitterly on her tongue.

You cradle her head, stroking her hair, angling your neck to allow her better access as she plants ticklish kisses along your pulse. "You. I want you," you plead gratingly.

You can't believe this is happening. That the girl who'd killed dozens without remorse or pause was the same girl touching you now, with bloodstained hands.

And you can't believe that you loved it.

She must share your disbelief, for she pulls away soberly, her eyes glowing with lucidity, clearer than before, when lust-muddled. They flicker between yours searchingly. "Are you sure?"

You graze your knuckles down her face in a smooth caress, looking down at her. "Yes," you assure with a loose smile, basking in the way she closes her eyes in comfort at your gentle touch.

She lingers like this, eyes shut, cheek resting in your hand, her breaths labored. Long enough for you to start worrying that she regrets what the two of you had started to do.

Those creeping fears slither back to their enclosures when she grips your thighs, suavely flipping you over and onto your back, your legs spreading around her waist, your thighs in her arms.

You hiccup on your breath at the swift, abrasive motion. Her hands clasped around your thighs; your legs bared for her, revealing to her the damp spot blossoming on your panties.

"Is this for me?" She teases, running a finger over the top of your panties, the featherlight touch making you squirm. "That's a good girl."

You nod sheepishly, your cheeks heating in humiliation as she snickers and slowly, promisingly, tugs them down, heedlessly shucking them over her shoulder.

"You're so fucking wet for me," she states quietly, prying your legs apart further, examining your pussy, soaked and constricting at the wicked gleam of satisfaction on her face. "I need to taste you."

Holy fuck.

All you can do is nod passionately in agreement, your heart drumming so thunderously, it's nearly twinging in agony, your pussy screaming to be appeased.

She inches back, hoisting your legs over her shoulders in the process, lowering herself down to meet your cunt. She's kneeling on the ground now, at the foot of the mattress, her breaths fanning detrimentally over your slick cunt, the faint contact making your legs snap shut— or try to.

Ellie grunts in disapproval, wedging your thighs back apart, eyeing her feast, hunger dwindling in her eyes, as if she didn't know she was starving before she had the meal laid out before her.

She uses her fingers to part your wet lips before diving in, licking a thick stripe along your entrance, gathering your juices and dragging her tongue to your pulsating clit. You unleash a heinous, strangled moan at the sensation, as she prods and suckles your bundle of nerves.

You uncontrollably writhe into the strokes of her tongue, chasing the escalating pleasure, the tension in your body coiling as she sucks and slurps with exuberance, devouring you.

She hums richly, smoothing her hand over your stomach, forcing your hips onto the bed. She thrusts her tongue into your entrance, maneuvering around your clit, swirling it along your folds, not leaving an inch of you untouched. You shakily rake your fingers through her hair, your breaths coming out in disjointed bursts, face twisting in pure pleasure.

You didn't know how it could get any better than this.

Until her finger prods your slick entrance, massaging it gently, her lips unabashedly sucking your clit as she delicately eases her finger into you, your tight walls stretching and expanding to welcome her.

"Oh my god!" You yelp at the invasion, pain and pleasure coinciding, as she leisurely inched her full index finger into you, curling it inside. You moan wantonly as it plucks a sensitive spot within you, your hips bucking up primally on command.

"Just like that," she declares, her words muffled by your pussy, nearly incoherent beneath the sound of her tongue lapping up your juices, her finger disappearing into your cunt. "Just like that, baby. Fuck my fingers."

At that, she slowly slips in a second one, the pleasure overshadowing the pain, now, as you squint down at the sight of her, burrowed between your thighs, ravenously licking and sucking, her tattooed arm dripping in your juices as she curls her digits in and out of you skillfully.

Her method of hunting seems to bleed into other aspects of her life; she's relentless with her prey, doing what needs to be done, whether it be to kill them or to make them come undone.

You can feel yourself begin to unravel at the seams; your body convulsing with your impending orgasm, teetering so close to the edge you're already halfway dangling off. "I- I think I'm—" you cry out, straining off the bed, clamping your thighs around her head. "I'm gonna—"

She removes her lips and fingers from you altogether. You whimper in protest, desperately shifting your hips into the air, begging for contact, your now fading high lost.

Ellie's lips gleam with your juices as she grins depravedly. "Not yet."

You frown somberly, even as she ascends to her knees between your legs, hovering over you, her mussed brown hair draping across her cruelly amused face. She plants a hand on the side of your head, fiddling with the button of her jeans, leaning in to press another kiss to your pouting lips— when a high-pitched scream shreds through the otherwise quiet air.

Ellie efficiently clasps her slippery hand over your mouth before you can bleat out the noise of befuddlement at the tip of your tongue. Her head is snapped toward the barricaded door, body eerily still, even her previously labored breathing completely silent.

She meets your wide, apprehensive eyes with a steady stare. "Shh," she says softly, as she hesitantly peels her hand off of your mouth.

She creeps off of the mattress stealthily, crouching, as she half-hazardously drapes the sheet over your bare figure. She shrugs on her stained collared shirt over her damp tanktop, tugging on one of her converse. You scramble to assist her, rapidly tying her shoe as she slipped on the other one.

Once you were finished, you fumbled for your top and panties, hugging the sheet to your chest, that paralyzing scream an ice bucket dousing the fire of your arousel. Now all you felt was dread, and faintly foolish, like you were senseless for actually believing for one second that you could just... let go. Forget about the horrors.

You're gracelessly yanking on your top when Ellie halts you with a hand, giving your shoulder a brisk squeeze. "You stay here. I'll go check it out." She's donning her baggy, brown leather coat, backpack already slung over her shoulder, loaded shotgun in hand.

"No. I'm coming with you." You scoff in objection, tugging on your underwear, crawling toward your backpack.

She strokes her palm across the bend of your protruding ass. "Come on. Please just stay here, alright?" She announces exasperatedly, defeatedly, shrugging a lame shoulder when you toss her an agitated look.

"Why? Why can't I come with you?" You demand, brows furrowed, as you stumble to your feet weakly— your thighs wet and quavering— and shove your feet inelegantly through your jeans.

"Stop— stop." She grips your wrist belligerently, growling the order, her earnest face looming close to yours.

"I don't want you to go alone!" you plead skittishly, anxiously chewing your lip, gesturing animatedly with your hands.

Ellie straightens at your admission, clearing her throat, pink blooming on her cheeks. As if her lips weren't still shimmering vulgarly with your juices; as if she hadn't just nearly eaten your pussy to climax. Her hair disheveled from where your fingers had clawed through it.

"You should keep watch from the window. That scream likely just drew all sorts of shit from the dark. Make sure nothing gets in this building, okay?" She instructs calmly, her scarred lip twitching as she glances toward the door, which you'd blockaded with a dresser. "I'll go check out the noise and come right back."

You consider intensively before grudgingly agreeing with a nod. "Fine," you remark sharply, strutting over to the dresser, where she stumbles after you in surprise of your compliance. You know she just wants to get away from you. Again.

This time, there's more substance to it, more of a sting. The last time she'd rushed away from you you'd taken it less personally; it was alcohol on a paper-cut, as opposed to alcohol on a gaping wound.

You avoid her gaze as you take the left side of the dresser, her taking the right, shoving it away from the door with a loud shrill against the scuffed floor.

You walk away mutely once it's done, wriggling your jeans back up as you pursue your own gun, buttoning them hastily and scooping it up, striding over the mattress and toward the window. You unlatch the expansive glass and aggressively slide it open, requiring more strength due to the rust.

The frigid breeze cascades through the window, your tousled hair billowing with the wind, cheeks instantly tingling at the chill. You prop your forearms on the mucky windowsill, gun in hand, the stars glimmering vibrantly. The air cooling your sweaty skin.

You can sense Ellie's lingering presence in the room, her shifts from side to side creaking the floorboards. You disregard her, closing your eyes, embracing the fresh air, the rustle of the vines coursing up the outer brick of the building.

She eventually clears her throat. "I'll be right back," she announces, reaching for the doorknob, her gaze still burning through your back.

"Okay."

She falters. In the reflection of the glass, her mouth flounders open and closed, something akin to guilt contorting her face. "Be careful," she chooses to say, the door screeching as she shoves it open, glancing at you conclusively from over her shoulder.

"Bye." You respond blandly, not breaking your concentration from the sky.

"Seal the door back up behind me." She demands while departing, not sparing a glance.

Once the door hisses and seals shut, you allow yourself to sink to the ground, your stomach churning with unease. Both because you feared the source of that scream, and because Ellie had just made you feel things you never could've imagined. And now that you've been shown a glimpse of your primal side, you don't know if you'll ever be able to revert back.

You only hover at the window for a few minutes before sealing it back up, retiring your gun back to its original position. You muster all your might to push the dresser back in front of the door.

Once done, you slink back into bed, the room chilled enough now that even with the heater you can comfortably slip underneath the sheet without overheating. You brace your sleep-heavy head on your arms and face the door, waiting for Ellie to return.

Or at least that was the original plan. You don't know how it happened; the exhaustion must've outweighed your concern, for you passed out shortly after laying down, the abyss of sleep consuming you.

You startle awake the next morning, lurching up with a jolt. The sun streams gently through the sheer, white drapes, particles of dust glistening in the dense air.

The first thing you notice is the lack of Ellie.

Her backpack is gone. The heater is off. The dresser is pressed up against the wall; the door ajar. A morning bird chirps from the receptionist desk outside the room.

You swivel to face her side of the bed in alarm, as if you'd magically just missed her laying there, only for it to be empty.

Except it's not totally empty.

The blue bear lays in her stead, carefully splayed across her spot, his fading blue skin clear-cut against the patch of dried blood soiling the mattress.

[myboipracticallyimagines]

No Remorse - Joel Miller x Reader

Joel would never apologize for the lengths he went to to protect his girls. That didn't stop his nightmares.

Every night before he went to sleep, he ensured his rifle was just to the right of the bed, well within his reach. He slept facing the doorway, with himself closest to it. The bedroom the two of you inhabited was on the first floor, closest to the entrance of the house. Ellie's was on the second floor - it was safer that way. Even though he made sure each firefly who wanted her brain were dead, he could never be too sure. She was his daughter, and he would tear the world apart to protect her.

He would tear it apart once more to save you. Joel's world shattered when he saw you under those two men. Ellie was able to free herself from David, but you weren't so lucky. The two captors easily overpowered you, caring not about the screams that filled the smoky air. They didn't relent until Joel put a bullet in their brains. He should have tortured them, he often confessed. Made them suffer just a fraction of the way they'd made you. But in the moment, all he cared about was getting you to safety.

Joel could never do more damage to this world than it had already done to his girls.

That might've been what made his decision so easy. You were nowhere to be found and Ellie was about to be killed. The decision to save her was the same as the decision to inhale. That was his Ellie on the table, his Ellie. That was the girl who told stupid puns and was far too inquisitive for her own good. That was the girl who never had someone to fight for her. Until now.

They had left you on the street, unconscious and alone. Joel had already loaded Ellie into the back of the sedan, so he took a moment to scan you for injuries. Other than the mark on your head from the butt of their gun, you were fine. Joel swore nothing like that would ever happen to his girls again. You were going to Tommy's, and nothing would stand in his way of getting you there.

You and Ellie woke at around the same time. It took everything in the man not to stop the car and sob. Somehow, you had all made it. Scarred and bloodied and bruised, but alive. Joel didn't tell either of you the truth about that day until much later. It was heartbreaking, but one look into Ellie's eyes and you knew you would have done the same thing. She was a child, and her life was more valuable than the world.

It took longer to convince Ellie of that fact. She locked herself away for weeks. You did your best to comfort her, but she needed time. One day she finally emerged, eyes still blotchy. She entered into your bedroom and crawled in between the two of you, as she did on particularly dreadful nights. "I wouldn't let them kill you either," she had sniffled, before getting wrapped in the tightest hug she'd ever received.

So on the nights when Joel was riddled with nightmares and plagued with the faces that were no more, he simply held on tighter to you and remembered that no one would hurt his girls ever again.

[elliespuns]

A lot of people think that Joel did a bad thing by saving Ellie, saying he was selfish and disrespectful toward her because all she ever wanted was to save the world and he was selfish enough to deny her that wish. Well, that's one thing.

The other thing is that no one told Ellie what they were planning to do with her. No one told her that she was going to die. They literally had her there, alive and well. They had to talk to her at some point after saving her from drowning. It's obvious she must have been conscious before the surgery because if they hadn't saved her when they found her with Joel, she would have died on the spot. And yet they still said nothing to her. They didn't inform her. And the worst thing is, they didn't intend to. She was a poor, uninformed child that they only wanted to take advantage of. For the greater good, yes. But at what cost?

Taking her life without giving her some time to think it through first? Without letting her decide, when was the right time to do this, or when was the last time she could annoy Joel with her silly jokes or read her favorite comic? Without letting her experience things for the last time before taking her life? Without letting her say goodbye.

This is exactly the reason why I sympathize with Joel, because he might have disrespected Ellie's wish, but he did that out of pure love, and I honestly think that if Ellie had been talked through what they were planning to do with her and her brain, she would have hesitated or needed time to think about it at least. I even believe that, more likely, she wouldn't have done it in the end if having to die was the only option.

And I know. Ellie was mad at Joel because she got to find out in the form of a harsh truth that was the result of lies that came from the only person she has ever loved so deeply. Of course, she was going to be mad and disappointed. But I honestly think that if she knew right from the start what the Fireflies wanted to do to her, everything would be so different.

I often think about what it would be like if Joel wasn't unconscious and if Marlene was just straight with Ellie at the time, and both Ellie and Joel got to hear the doctor say that for the vaccine to be made, Ellie was going to have to die. Joel would probably snap in front of the doctor and Ellie, like, "No, no fucking way! You're not doing this. You want to kill this kid, you gotta kill me first." and Ellie would witness, for the first time, just how much that man cares about her, and THIS - this would be the moment of her realizing that her life actually does matter. Matter to Joel. So the decision she would have to make about whether to die or not would be a lot harder for her.

Because up until this point, Ellie has only lived with the burden of survivor guilt and felt like she had no one except for herself and her selfless need to help others. So, eventually dying for a cure that would save the world would seem to her like a good thing to do.

But if she knew that someone already cared about her this much, especially if this someone would be Joel—someone who has been a father figure to her ever since they crossed paths—she wouldn't have done it. Which, of course, she didn't realize back when she found out the truth at 17. All she felt at that time was just betrayal. It hurt her so much that she couldn't see past it.

But it was a few years later, when she and Joel spoke on his porch, that she finally understood just how much he had already cared about her back then and finally saw it through his eyes.

That man has only ever had one purpose in his life. To keep this baby girl safe and to make her happy.

[cowgurrrl]

Day After Tomorrow

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader

Summary: “Lover, hunter, friend and enemy/ You will always be every one of these.” — Love and War by Fleurie aka winter part ii [3.0k]

Warnings: (probably) incorrect wound care, mentions of deceased loved ones (what's new), mother-daughter arguing although neither of them realizes that's what it is, Chekov's gun if you squint real hard

It's been days, and Joel hasn't moved from his spot. You and Ellie come up with your own watch schedule to keep each other safe and make sure Joel doesn't die in the middle of the night. You stay up throughout the night and let her take over once the sun rises in the morning, but you don't sleep. Every time you lay down next to Joel's mattress, all you can do is count his breaths and watch his sleeping form. The only time you've actually been able to sleep was when Ellie suggested laying next to him instead of on the floor to keep warm. You've seen her do it, and if he cares, he doesn't make it clear. If anything, he subconsciously leans into her. Still, you're hesitant until you curl up next to him and feel his beating heart under your hand. You fall asleep counting the contractions of his heart and silently pray that it doesn't stop before you can wake up.

You've only left a few times to raid the other houses in the neighborhood, tearing rooms apart and looking for first aid kits or leftover antibiotics. The closest thing you find is a smattering of codeine left in someone's medicine cabinet and some more towels. Anything else that might've been valuable has been picked over or lost to the elements. You find an extra blanket in one house and throw it at Ellie when you return. "Told ya I'd find something," you tease as you take off your backpack, the forced lilt in your voice enough to make her smile. You have to fight Joel to get the opiate into his system, but the bubbling pain caused by his stitches seems to outweigh sobriety. You want to make a joke that you think NA would make an exception for this, but he's unconscious again by the time you think of it.

You catch the symptoms of an infection before Ellie can. The skin around his stitches is inflamed and red, and he's spiked a fever in the last few hours. When you check his pulse, it's fast and irregular, and he's shaking under the blankets. You contemplate taking out the sutures, but it's too early. If you take them out, he could start bleeding again, and his body might not have enough strength left to clot. You sigh and scrub a hand down your face as you weigh your options.

"Is he gonna die?" Ellie asks suddenly, breaking the eerie silence filling the basement, and you tear your eyes away from Joel to look at her. It's only been a week, but Ellie looks like she's aged three years since you've been down here. Her cheeks have hollowed, and the bags under her eyes are so dark they're almost purple.

"He has an infection. His body might be able to fight it, but I don't know." 

"Is there anything you can do?" 

"Without medicine? Not really," you admit. "I can… make him as comfortable as possible with the rest of the painkillers. I can change the towels and give him food and water, but that's really it." I can let him die with some dignity, you think. It's better than the other situations you've been in where you thought he was gonna die. What would you tell Tommy? He was protecting you and Ellie. He fought to stay alive. He wanted you to move on. He'd be a hero. Tommy would make sure of it. The idea turns sour the second you think of it. You don't want a hero. You don't want his name sung to the skies or cemented in marble for generations to gawk at. You want him to stay alive.

"What are we gonna do? If, y'know…" Ellie trails off, and you look away from her.

"We keep going."

"But-"

"It's what he was trying to tell me to do when he got stabbed. He wouldn't want us to stay here, and you know it." You stop the argumentative tone in her voice before it can fully develop, and she huffs in annoyance. 

"So we're just gonna act like nothing happened if he dies? Like he wasn't even here?" You ignore her to mess with the blankets covering him and wait for her to try and open up negotiations so you can turn them down. "Do you love him?" She asks instead. You cringe, but she's firm and determined as she watches you process the question. 

"He's my partner," you say. "My family."

"That's not what I meant," she says.

"I don't know what you're looking for."

"What did Tess say to you when you were alone with her the last time?" She asks, and your heart jumps. She's out of line. She knows she is, but she keeps going. "Joel doesn't know, does he? Because it hurts, and when you love someone, you don't want to tell them things that will hurt them. Right?" You clench your jaw and shake your head. "I'm not fucking stupid. I see the way you guys look at each other. I hear what you guys talk about when you think I'm asleep. I know he's mostly grumpy, but not all the time. Not with you. I-"

"Ellie," you snap, cutting her off. "It doesn't matter what you see or what's there. I'm not… I can't." Words fail you as they often do when talking about Joel. "He's not mine to love. Not in that way. So, it doesn't matter what I feel, and it especially won't matter if he's dead." Ellie is silent as the words hang in the air between you two. You've thought the same thing many times over the years, but this is the first time you've vocalized it. He was always Tess's. In your mind, he still is. If either of them ever asked you to step down or leave, you would've done it without hesitation because he was never meant to be yours. 

"When I got bit the first time, I was with someone I loved," Ellie says. You look at her and catch her ripping at her nail beds to avoid your gaze. She takes a deep breath and shifts uncomfortably before she continues. "Her name was Riley. She joined the Fireflies, and they were gonna send her to a different QZ. Atlanta, I think. She wanted us to have one last night so we snuck out to the mall," she shakes her head and takes a deep breath. "We got into a fight about her leaving. I was just so scared to be alone, and then… she decided she was gonna stay for me. She hated the FEDRA school, and I was scared to be out in the QZ, but we were gonna figure something out together." She looks like she wants to say more but can't bring herself to. You're able to put the pieces together.

"Have you heard me tell Joel about someone named Adam?" You ask, and she nods shyly. It's weird bringing up Adam to her. They each feel like they belong to different lifetimes. "Adam was kinda like my Riley. He helped with Jane, went on runs with me, lived with me, everything," you say. "He was my best friend." 

"Did he get bit, too?" She asks, and you nod.

"I stayed with him until the end. I think I felt like I owed it to him— like I wanted him to know I loved him enough to bear the weight of watching him die," you dig your fingernails into your palm and shake your head. "I stayed with him until the end and then let him go on his own terms like he wanted. If it comes down to it, I'll do the same for Joel." 

"Are you scared of losing him?" She asks. You swallow thickly and nod.

"Every day." 

"Me, too," she admits. "I'm sorry about Adam." She says, and just like that, whatever barriers left between you two are gone. Suddenly, you're not the adult, and she's not the child. You're two girls forced to become women too young and carry the weight of what that means for the rest of time. You're equals.

"I'm sorry about Riley." You say. You think the conversation will end there, and you let yourself crawl under the covers with Joel as the sun slowly inches over the horizon. Before you can close your eyes, Ellie fiddles with the rifle nervously, making metal click, and you look at her.

"Does it ever get easier?" She asks. "Loving someone who's not alive anymore?" You stare at the ceiling, your eyes fluttering shut at the question, and your hand finds Joel's.

"I wish I knew," you say. "Does he know? About Riley?"

"No," she sighs. "He's not really one for sentimental conversations." You laugh despite the situation. It's delirious, and you really shouldn't be doing it, but you can't stop it. For more than ten years, you've known Joel, and never has a truer statement about him been said. The hysterics hit Ellie, too, and you two giggle on the floor together. When Joel shifts in his sleep, you both go quiet but start laughing again a few moments later when it's clear he's not stirring. 

"He's gonna fucking kill us if we wake him up." She says breathlessly, and, for some reason, you start laughing harder.

"He doesn't even know what day it is. You think he's gonna know how to kill us?" You snort, and that sends Ellie over the edge. Your stomach hurts, and you can't catch your breath, and it feels so good. When was the last time you laughed this hard? Over a card game and a few drinks with Joel and Tess? Dancing in the kitchen with Adam and Jane? Or further back? In some long-forgotten memory lost to your pre-kid days? It's impossible to know for sure. 

The only thing you feel sure of is the ache in your ribs and the smile on your face when you finally quiet down and lay down next to Joel, his hand squeezing yours either in reflex or love. 

You wake up to Ellie calling your name frantically, and you're up before she can even finish descending the stairs. The sun is high in the sky, and light is pouring in through a little window. It has to be, at least, mid-afternoon. When did she leave the house? How long have you been asleep? Is she hurt? 

"I got medicine!" She shouts as she runs to you. Her cheeks are red from the cold, and she's tracking snow into the basement, but she's not bleeding. It takes you another second to scan her features for any injuries before you can even process her words. "I got medicine. I don't know if it's the right kind, but I got it." She hands you the vials with shaky hands, and you glance between her and the bottles. The label says it's penicillin. It could fight the infection bubbling under the surface of his stitches. Kill the bacteria and save his life as long as he's not allergic to it. As long as it is what it says it is. 

"You were supposed to wake me up for second watch." You scold because you don't know what else to say.

"Is it the right kind? Will it help?" She asks. You take another second before cursing under your breath and going to Joel's bedside, shaking him awake.

"Joel, I need you to nod or shake your head for me. Can you do that?" You ask, and he nods. "Are you allergic to penicillin?" He shakes his head but looks confused. There's a 50/50 chance he didn't understand your question or know if he's allergic to it. You lift his shirt to check his stitches to find the skin more inflamed and angry than the last time you checked. He's gonna die if you don't do something soon. You sigh before turning back to Ellie. "Give me the syringe." 

She does with shaky hands, and you carefully measure and fill the entire syringe with the antibiotic. You don't know what the correct dosage is supposed to be, but you figure too much is better than not enough. You hold his shirt out of the way as you inject the medicine into his muscle, praying that it is medicine and not something mismarked. You watch him once the syringe is empty and wait for him to start foaming at the mouth or coughing up blood, but he doesn't. Carefully, you put the needle down and check his vitals, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

His heart rate and breathing are steady, and his pupils respond when you lift his eyelids. It'll take days for you to see any improvement, but just the knowledge that the antibiotics are working below the surface to save his life is enough to calm you down. The snow still in Ellie's hair does the opposite.

"Where did you go?" You ask, your voice hoarse from fear, and she tenses up.

"Hunting." She supplies a little too quickly, and you stare at her.

"How did you find medicine?" You ask, and you watch her scramble for answers. "Tell me the truth."

"There was this man from a town nearby-"

"Jesus fucking Christ." You cut her off and bury your head in your hands.

"I did everything you taught me! I didn't tell him my name, where I was coming from, or anything!"

"Did he see which way you left?" 

"I don't know. I don't think so. He seemed nice!" She defends.

"Yeah, they always seem nice." You sigh.

"How about 'thank you, Ellie'? 'I know it must've been scary, but you saved him.' Anything?"

"You could've gotten yourself killed. You could've led them here. We can't move him yet. So, what am I supposed to do if they show up here? Huh?" You snap. You hate being so harsh with her, but she needs to understand how dangerous that is. "Do you remember what Joel said about fires? Why we don't always light them?"

"Yes, but-"

"Why don't we light fires, Ellie?"

"I-"

"Ellie Williams." 

"Because people could see and rob us." She says, and you shake your head. 

"Trust me, robbing us would be the last thing on their minds," you clench your jaw and take a deep breath. "I appreciate you finding medicine and coming back, I do. You probably just saved his life, and I'm sure we'll both spend the rest of our lives trying to thank you for that, but it was also really fucking stupid. I trusted you to stay up and take a watch shift because you wanted to be treated like an adult. So, I'm gonna treat you like an adult now," you say. She opens her mouth to say something, but you put your hand up to stop her. "You're off the watch schedule, and you're not allowed to even look at the rifle unless it's an emergency or I can trust you again. You don't leave this house again without me knowing. You don't walk, talk, eat, sleep, or even breathe without me knowing. Do you understand?" 

"That's not fair!" She protests, and the last thread of patience you have snaps.

"I can't lose another kid!" The words leave you before you can reign them in, and you both go silent, staring at each other. This is all new. You've never had a kid who got to this age. She's never had a parent. Neither of you can fully fill the void for the other, but somehow, it feels like it's happened. "It will kill me, okay? Him," you gesture behind you at Joel. "It would hurt like hell, but I could find a way to survive. I've done it before, and I could do it again. But you... if anything ever happened to you, I would never forgive myself. So, just, please-" Ellie, throwing her arms around you, cuts you off, and you freeze. It only takes a second for your brain to catch up with your body, and you hug her back, squeezing her tight. 

She's taller than Jane, her head fitting perfectly under your chin, and you can't stop yourself from smoothing her hair down. She doesn't flinch or jump away from your touch. You take that as a good sign. It occurs to you that accidentally claiming her as yours was never in the plans. You were supposed to get her to the Fireflies in Boston with Joel and Tess, and when that didn't work out, she was cargo. Just a burden to deliver to someone else. You were supposed to leave her, get paid, and lick your wounds the whole way back to the East Coast. What now? You can't just leave her with them. You can't just turn your back on her. You can't pretend she didn't exist. You're fucked. You wonder if Joel's had the same thought.

"Okay," she says into your chest. "I won't leave again. I understand." 

"Thank you." You whisper, and she nods. You leave it at that, not wanting to incite another argument or worse— admitting something else you weren't ready to admit to a fourteen-year-old. She hands you the rifle without protest and lies down next to Joel, falling asleep faster than you've seen before, and you let your shoulders drop as you watch them. 

You can't recall a time Joel looked so relaxed in his sleep, and it could be the penicillin or the codeine, but you like to think it's Ellie. You have to believe it's her. If you survive this, you decide, you'll do everything possible to give her a better future. You can't guarantee tomorrow, but you want to try. 

"I love you," you say into the air. You know they can't hear you. That deafness might be the only reason you say it. "I think you know I do. I just… wanted to say it out loud at least once. I'm sorry it took me so long." You're quiet after that admission, listening for footsteps, hooves, or something else that might come and threaten their lives. If you listen hard enough, you think you can hear the snow hitting the ground, rabbits digging underground tunnels, and Adam's clumsy feet jumping up and down.

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha @cosmoscoffeee @shyminnie07 @beezusvreeland @eddiemunsonsbedroom @harriedandharassed @doodlebob-mp3 (I made an executive decision on tagging lol if you only want to be tagged in one thing, lmk and I’ll do my best to remember!)

[factual-fantasy]

First...

HOWS TUNA BEEN DOING? AND ELLIE? AND LOUIS? WAAAAAAH THEYRE SO PRECIOUS TO MEEEEEEE

Second...

OUUUUUUUUGH I LOVE ELLIE SO MUUUUUUCHHHHH

I think I misunderstood her a bit there. She isn't the best with body language, and has bitch resting face. People would be "I think the doesn't like me at all", only to realize after getting to know her a bit that she does, in fact, like you, she just express it differently. She cooks fou you your favorite meal when your down, if you need to be alone but not alone she offers her kitchen as a safe place, when you shove a flower to your mouth she looks at you wondering "why didn't you asked for a snack if you were this hungry?". She's a lovely cookie and I love her so much. She's just... hard to read, that's all. I wonder if there's someone at the crew that has the ability of traducting her body language to the others, like when she just stares at your soul with empty eyes, that person would say: "she thinks your fighting technique is neat :D" and she'll nod like "yes, that".

Third...

I NEED to know WHAT HAPPENED HERE

I know you probably drew it to show Cuttlefish cool ability, but

HE LOOKS SO SCARED WHAT HAPPENED THERE

I know he doesn't trust Cuttlefish that much, and maybe seeing her make herself gigantic didn't help him to trust her more, at least in the moment. Probably he's seeing her do that for the first time and that's why he so scared. "I didn't knew she could do that, is she hiding more to us? What if she's hiding worse things?" Would Tuna think those things? That's if his neurons manage to make the thought of course.

But thats not what this is about, what the hell happened to Spidercrab?! He looks out of combat, Cuttlefish is protecting him like this because this is an extreme situation, and Tuna just... he isn't looking at Spidercrab to see the wounds, he's looking at her with something in between of confusion and fear (be it because of her or because of Spidercrab or both). I think is a nice detail that the "what the hell Cuttlefish" is stronger than the "Spidercrab are you OK or are you dead?" In his mind, at least for the seconds this image lasts, he probably dismiss it shortly and actually atends to their unconscious medic.

Spidercrab looks like he took a bad hit or a particularly bad injury, and looks that he's been face on the floor since. Tuna has just arrived at his side, kneeled and the something huge appears at his side. He freezes and looks, only to see a... gigantic... Cuttlefish... somehow... his tiny Algae brain isn't understanding. He doesn't understands it, so he fears it because what else would he do? Oh! He has better things to do! She'll take care of that cookie, he should take care of Spidercrab and get him so safety if he can be moved! It's too dangerous!

Maybe this image takes place after he's cheked if Spidercrab is alive and breathing and he gives himself this moment of contemplating in fear whatever this secretive cremated is doing.

Idk, I love this little things you probably didn't think of much while doing <3

AND FINALLY

How's the relationship between Pinwheel and Tuna? They're both troubled youths from what you've said, right? Do they come from the same place? Do they bond or they're rivals on who has the less braicells (Tuna does, no doubt)?

And... that's it for now, I LOOOOVE your characters and WILL ask about them everytime I can ;] <3

XDD It's good to read from you again! Louis, Tuna and Ellie are all doing great I'm sure! As for your comment/questions..

Yeah, Ellie is just a bit stone faced. That's all! But I imagine that most of the crew is able to read her to some extent. But out of all the crew, I imagine that Seafoam and Octo are the very best at reading her. Mostly because they've known her for so long. But also because Seafoam is good at reading Octo! Who is pretty stone faced himself.. and Octo can read Ellie because he has lot of the same body language as her! XDD

As for the Cuttlefish drawing, you're right about it being just a random scenario to show off Cuttle's power. But while I'm thinking about it..

I imagine that the crew must have been on an island of somekind. Since it's rare that any of the crew gets hurt like that when they're all together on the ship..

Maybe they were looking for treasure? Or supplies? Who knows.. but I know most of the crew got separated, and attacked by... Some cookies.? <XD

The point in the end though, is Spidercrab isn't really a fighter. So when faced with an opponent, he got taken down.. probaaably by getting hit in the chest or gut-

Cuttlefish wouldn't usually use this ability, as it goes against her preferred fighting style.. so she must have felt backed into a corner. With her friend down, and her cover already blown. She just panicked and used it as a last resort.

I think you're right about Tuna. He's already pretty sceptical about Cuttlefish, so having her suddenly whip out this ability he didn't know she had would be something for sure.. though I think this would oddly build more trust with her.

I pictured her defeating this baddie and then shrinking back down. She turns and has a genuine look of worry and stress on her face, rushing over to check on Tuna and Spidercrab. The fact that she has such a power but has never used it to fight back against the crew or intimidate anyone.. it kinda gives him a different view of Cuttlefish. But then again, hidden ability, what else is she capable of? Sus?? It's a double sided coin- <XDD

Lastly, Tuna and Pinwheel! I picture them coming from similar places but turning out to be very different people.

I think of Tuna as coming from a bad place where he was hurt but other people. Which caused him to be very resistant to authority and just people in general. Though he is slowly able to take his walls down and feel comfortable around the crew.

Pinwheel however came from a place where she was greatly traumatized, but it wasn't because of one person or people. More like a sunken ship disaster or a tsunami situation. Something where she longed for the comfort and guidance of other people.

And that's exactly what she found with Seafoam and his crew. She soaked up their generosity and kindness like a sponge. She especially found comfort in Seafoam's gentle personality. She quickly grew past her trauma and now is almost as jolly and energetic as Louis!

When it comes to them interacting..? Hmm.. I can see Tuna being a real jerk and making it hard for Pinwheel to really get to know who he truly is.. whenever Pinwheel tried to have fun or goof around, Tuna would always resist it. They probably didn't interact much at first..

..Now as time went on and Tuna lightened up? I'm sure they grew much closer. Pinwheel and Tuna actually have similar energy and like a lot of the same things. I can see Pinwheel and him getting into trouble, talking about life and pigging out on Ellie's cooking together. They'd be best friends! :}}}

Anyways, thank you again for the interest in my critters and for the ask! They're always so fun to read! :}} ✨💞✨

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Only Just A Dream - Joel Miller X Female Reader

Title: Only Just A Dream

Joel Miller X Female Reader

Additional Characters: Fireflies (Mentioned), Marlene (Mentioned), Ellie (Mentioned), Joel's ex-wife (Mentioned), Sarah, and Tommy

WC: 2,730

Warnings: The Last Of Us canon violence mentioned, blood mentioned, death mentioned, murder hinted at, main character death mentioned, Reader is called 'mom', slight mention of a panic attack, slightly suggestive, slight angst, teasing, taunting, nightmares mentioned, movie references mentioned, a slight stray from the original TLOU timeline/storyline, and fluff

Holding the unconscious Ellie in his arms, Joel stumbled his way out of the hospital, making his way to his truck. The bodies of the fireflies and Marlene were far behind him as he sacrificed the cure for Ellie's life. He already lost one daughter, he didn't want to lose another. Not again. He didn’t care how much blood was on his hands. Setting Ellie in the truck, Joel hastily got the car started before driving off back to Wyoming.

It wasn't long until Ellie woke up. She then asked about what had happened, and Joel lied; he had to. He told her, no matter how hard it was to lie to the young girl, he told her that they couldn’t make a cure. It was silent in the truck, Joel's mind racing as Ellie began drowning in survivor's guilt. Suddenly, Ellie called out his name as something flashed across the road, causing Joel to slam on the brakes; ultimately hitting his head on the steering wheel, knocking himself out.

"Joel..."

Joel groaned, the voice felt so far away.

"Joel!"

Joel felt himself frown, he hadn't heard the voice in a long time.

Jolting upright, Joel’s eyes opened wide as his heart hammered loudly in his chest. As his eyes adjusted, he immediately became confused. As he looked around the room that he was in, he registered it to be his old bedroom in Austin. Something, to him, he hadn’t seen in twenty years. The room was dark, except for the sun peaking through the blinds of the window, sprinkling the bed in a soft glow of warm yellow.

Joel began to panic, the more and more he looked around. Running a hand through his dark curls, he ignored the sticky sweat upon his forehead and brow, his dark chocolate eyes flicking across the room as his fingers brushed against the soft fabric of the tan-striped blankets and grey sheets of his bed, trying to ground himself. He spotted the same frames that held the pictures of his family and past vacations. The same furniture, the small armchair in the corner by the bookshelf. And even the blankets draped across his lap were all the same.

Has it all been a dream? One terrible, evil dream? No infected, no death, no Fireflies, no raiders... And no Ellie. Joel felt a pain in his chest as he let out a big, shaky exhale through his mouth. Ellie… She was gone. She was never real. Shutting his eyes tight, Joel raised his hands, raking them through his hair; pulling on some of the strands enough to make his scalp burn, as though doing so would make everything clear. Looking over at his bedside table, he hesitantly opened the top drawer, revealing his watch. Picking it up, Joel held it in his hands. The face of the watch wasn't shattered, no, it was fixed, ticking softly; its glass face glinting in the sunlight. His mind went straight to Sarah. If it was all a dream, then was his daughter still alive?

With furrowed eyebrows, Joel heightened his hearing, hearing the sound of a pan being set on the stove and humming. Your humming. Frantically pushing the blankets off of him, Joel almost tripped as he ran to the bedroom door, grabbed the handle, and pulled it open; the air from the swift movement fanning his face briefly. Instantly his nose was bombarded by the smell of bacon and eggs. His heart began to race as he pushed himself out of his bedroom and down the hall. Practically barreling down the stairs, he quickly made his way to the kitchen where the smell of bacon and eggs only grew stronger. 

Turning the corner into the kitchen, he saw you standing with your back facing him. He felt his world slow to a stop as he watched you. Your body turned to the oven, bending over to check the bacon inside before checking on the pancakes cooking on the stove. Dressed in one of his gray t-shirts and a pair of shorts, you hummed along to a favorite song of yours as you flipped the pancakes from time to time; occasionally poking the pancake with the tip of the spatula to check if it was done and ready to be flipped. Joel felt like his heart was going to explode, not sure how much longer he could keep it together. He wanted nothing more than to run over to you and pull you close, but he restrained himself, remembering the horrible things that happened in that dream of his that sickened him to his core.

He could remember you dying in his arms, blood splattered all over your pale face, your breathing growing weaker and weaker as your hand dropped from his cheek, leaving a bloody trail down his face. Your eyes, your soul left you, and with your soul, you took Joel’s. The infected, Sarah's death, his baby girl..., everything. That dream made him question everything. Was this a dream? Or was this his reality?

You suddenly stopped humming, looking over your shoulder to see who had come into the kitchen. When you noticed it was Joel, you smiled warmly. You turned and faced him completely, your smile slowly slipping from your face when you noticed Joel's expression. 

"Joel, honey, are you alright?" You asked as the man in question shuffled further into the room. "I tried calling you down for breakfast, but I guess that tea really knocked you out." You began, quickly turning off the stove burner and walking over to your Joel.

He swallowed thickly as his dark eyebrows lowered, "Tea?" Joel questioned, his voice thick as you nodded, gesturing with the nod of your head to the counter where a small, green box of tea resided next to the sugar tin.

"Yeah, we thought trying this new tea would help with the nightmares you've been having. Did it help you at all?" You then asked before continuing with the slightest tilt of your head, "When I turned around, you looked like you had seen a ghost."

Joel felt a wave of relief wash over him as he abruptly pulled you into his arms, "Oh, thank God." He muttered, burying his face into your neck as he hugged you tightly to him, one hand around your waist and the other cupping the back of your head.

It was all a dream, he remembered now. Clearly. He remembered he had been having nightmares for the past month, some with him as a southern spy with a lasso and others where he was stuck on a mysterious planet in space. He had been trying a new tea to hopefully calm those nightmares and odd dreams. Instead, it seemed the tea only made them worse. The nightmare, the infected, was just a creation of his mind, nothing more. This reality, this reality was real and he couldn't believe it. You were right here, in his arms, healthy and whole and alive. He didn't know what to do with that information, it was a lot for him to take in at once. 

He tightened his arms around you, letting out a heavy sigh as you kissed his temple. "Are you alright? What was it this time?" You asked softly, rubbing circles against his upper arms, the warmth from your hands and body finally grounding him, soothing and calming him.

Shaking his head, Joel pulled away, his dark eyes scanning every inch of your beautiful face. "No, it was bad.” He glanced at the tea box on the counter before he let himself smile after what felt like ages, "I don't think that tea works at all."

You just smiled understandingly up at him, raising your hand to brush your fingers against his cheek, his scruff tickling your fingertips, "Do you want to talk about it?" You offered. Joel hesitated, but then gave you a weak smile in return as he shook his head slightly. "You don't have to if you don't want to." You spoke up softly, "But if you ever do, I'll be here." 

Your words made Joel's heart swell with such adoration, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek, "Thank you, sweetheart." He whispered, brushing his fingers against your soft skin before he let out a deep sigh, "Gosh, you're a sight for sore eyes." You giggled lightly before Joel swooped down and pressed his lips to yours. 

You immediately wrapped your arms around his neck, your fingers running through the hair on the nape of his neck, humming softly. Joel's free hand slowly wrapped around your waist, his large, warm hand pressed firmly against your lower back as he pulled you even closer to him. You felt your heart beat madly against your ribcage as you broke away from his kiss. Breathing heavily, you both pressed your foreheads together for a few moments, the tips of your noses touching.

"Wow," You let out a shaky chuckle, opening your eyes to gaze into Joel's, "You just transported me back to our wedding day." You joked with a giggle as Joel's lips curled into an amused grin before he dipped his face back down, pressing multiple kisses onto your cheeks, forehead, and nose as you let out a laugh. "Joel! What has gotten into you?" You laughed breathlessly as he slowly kissed down your jaw, his lips moving downwards towards your neck. You weren’t complaining though, smiling softly, you placed your own hands against the small of his back, feeling his muscles tense up underneath your touch before quickly relaxing.

"I'm sorry..." Joel apologized sheepishly against your throat, you could feel a small, sheepish smile on his lips. "I'm jus’ happy to see you." He breathed deeply against your neck, nuzzling against it before leaning back up and resting his forehead against yours again.

You only hummed, gently brushing your nose against his as you closed your eyes, a content smile on your face. 

"Ew," A new voice spoke up, swiftly gaining Joel's and your attention, looking over Joel spotted Sarah at the bottom of the stairs, holding onto the strap of her JanSport backpack; all dressed and ready for school. She stared at the two of you, a small look of disgust on her face before she sped past Joel and grabbed a plate for a pancake, bacon, and eggs. “I hope you two aren’t spoiling your breakfast.” She taunted as Joel felt like his world stopped a second time, an overwhelming feeling rushing through him as he slipped out of your arms and made his way to his daughter. Weaving around the small dining room table, Joel wrapped his arms around Sarah, who paused her eating to glance up at her father. "Uh, Dad..?" Sarah said as her brows rose in concern as she looked between you and Joel, not sure what was happening; only for you to give the young teen a shrug.

Releasing his grip, Joel took a step back as he cleared his throat, "Did you, uh, get your homework done?" He asked, and Sarah only shook her head with a smile, taking another bite of her bacon and eggs.

Finishing her food, Sarah made her way to the fridge, grabbing some orange juice and a glass from the cupboard. Pouring a glass, she held it out for Joel. Taking the glass from his daughter, he looked at the glass and glanced back up at her, only for the teen to give him a knowing look. "Vitamin D." She replied simply.

Joel couldn't help but smile, taking a sip of the orange juice before you weave in between the two, heading back to the stove, checking briefly on the pancake you had left on the pan. "Alright, you two. Sarah, baby, you don't want to be late for school."

She nodded, giving you a smile, "Yeah, thanks, mom," She spoke, before drinking the rest of her own drink. Sarah began to call you 'mom' only recently and it always made you smile when she did.

You then turned back to Joel, "And, Joel, honey, you don't want to be late for your new job."

"Yeah, Joel," Tommy's voice rang out as he entered the room, not even bothering to grab a plate as he grabbed a piece of bacon from off the cookie tray and stuffed it in his mouth, "We got a call yesterday, remember?" Tommy reminded his older brother before stuffing his mouth with more food making you glare playfully at the younger Miller, handing him a plate and fork to eat with.

"Oh, yeah," Joel began, finishing the orange juice as quickly as he could, "I forgot ‘bout that."

Tommy stared at his brother with a frown, observing him, "You seem a bit out a whack this mornin'."

"He does, doesn't he?" Sarah smirked, before placing her now dirty plate in the sink and grabbing her bag from off the floor. Making her way to the front door, Sarah placed her hand on the door handle before turning towards the direction of the kitchen, "Oh, yeah, I'm heading to the mall after school with my friends. I'll be back before dinner!" She called out before heading out the door.

Joel let out a sigh as Tommy left the room to get ready for the day. You turned to lean against the counter, crossing your arms. "Do you need help getting ready or something?" You asked teasing, raising an eyebrow as Joel mimicked you. "Don't tell me that whole story about you wearing diapers was true?"

Joel almost choked on his own saliva, "Sarah told you that?" He asked incredulously and you grinned at him as he shook his head with a laugh, "Of course she told you that."

"She tells me everything, Joel." You rolled your eyes with a smirk, only for Joel to nod in agreement.

"Yeah, you are her mother." He said softly, making your cheeks heat up as you smiled down at the floor briefly. It always elated you whenever Sarah called you 'mom' or when Joel mentioned how much of one you were to her. Joel rarely spoke of his ex-wife, only that the marriage didn't last too long. But you were glad to be there for the two of them. They deserved someone to care about them. And Joel deserved so much more than life offered him, he needed that someone to love him. And you were more than willing to love, care, and support him until the end of time. 

Letting out a breathy chuckle, you looked up at Joel shyly, "My, my, Mr. Miller. Got me in a blushing mess today."

Joel walked back over to you, placing his palms flat against the countertop as he stared into your eyes, intentionally trapping you between the counter and himself. With a small smirk on his face, he leaned down and captured your lips in a soft kiss, nearly taking your breath away with how sweet and gentle he was being. Pulling away, you blinked your eyes open once you regained control over yourself again, "Only for you, Mrs. Miller." Joel breathed against your lips before pressing another sweet kiss against your forehead, causing you to close your eyes again in bliss, savoring each moment.

The two of you stood there for what felt like forever until suddenly Tommy burst into the kitchen, causing you and Joel to pull apart quickly. "Joel, come on. I know how much you enjoy loving on your wife, but we really can’t be late." He softly scolded, as Joel rolled his eyes.

You raised your hand to press the tip of your finger softly against the tip of his nose, "Yeah," You muttered, gaining his attention once more. "You don't want to be late, and I don't want to be the reason you lose this call." Joel let out a sigh, pulling away from you as he began to make his way out of the kitchen, jumping slightly when he felt a tap on his rear. Turning around, his cheeks slightly flushed and brown eyes wide, you gave him a wink, "Payback."

Joel let out a small huff, unable to stop a smile from spreading across his face as he turned back around. Grabbing his phone off the counter, he grabbed his jacket from the end of the couch, following Tommy out the door.

[expendablesilvershards]

"hiya, the names silver, nice to meetcha. Welcome to my blog, I run it from within the hadal blacksite. I'm... Kinda in trouble from the people running it."

"this place is dangerous, harsh, bloody, and messy, but also peaceful if you know where to look, I'm here to help others if I can, and stay alive, here's my file, keep in mind Their pretty biased over there."

"stay safe by the way, would love to chat!"

(text version below with ooc stuff incase you can't read this)

the rogue

EXR-PR9, known as codename: rogue , real name: ⬛⬛⬛⬛⬛ ⬛⬛⬛⬛, is a rogue expendable from the operations to recover crystals and data from the hadal blacksite

Age:20

A 5,10 male human with silver hair, fair skin, blue eyes, and a slim figure, seen armed and dangerous, wearing a Altered diving suit, with dark colours and casual clothes over it, along with a pair of goggles

apon arriving at the hadal black site EXR-PR9 cut the PDG out of his suit, using a makeshift knife, after which the other expendables in the group attempted to detain him to the submarine resulting in him knocking them unconscious before leaving, the team has not been heard from since, assumed to be killed

Through data in the blacksite cameras and more, we have gathered that EXR-PR9 has become well-equipped, to the point where EXR-PR9 could theoretically survive indefinitely. It is beloved that EXR-PR9 is working with Sebastian solace, who has denied all allegations of working with the rogue.

although well-armed, EXR-PR9 is not dangerous and is unlikely to attack unless provoked, or met with blacksite officials, and is non-threating to expendables

a normal human, EXR-PR9 should be treated with respect, and avoided if you have had a bad interaction with them before, they seem willing to help expendables, as shown in past expeditions, but meeting EXR-PR9 is done at your own risk

If possible, killing this rogue would be advised, however, due to the dangerous nature of EXR-PR9 it's considered a high risk operation

If these documents are shown to unauthorized personnel, you'll be put up for demotion, and any cover-up fees will be sent to your relatives.

Ooc:

Hiya guys! Welcome to the blog! Fun pressure Roblox RP blog for EXR-PR9

sexuality:pan

inventory:

silvers knife

Chocolate bar

glock

Railgun

Rope

Protein chocolate bar

Dr.pepper

Medkit

Flash beacon

Flashlight

Base description

Allies:

@redfacility

Friends

Eyefestastion ( @ask-eyefestation )

Tarot/expendable94 : ( @thepressurepblog )

Ellie? ( @ellie-expendable-1 )

Enemys:

Blacksite officials

Collector: ( @thepressurepblog )

@h3ad-quarters

dating:

Rules:

No NSFW

No hate please

That's it!

Enjoy!

[iris0-0]

Imagine Bad Ending Ellie….

Warnings: death, blood?, angst, I’m sad.

✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿✿

Imagine!Ellie: Who despite injured after her final battle with Abby started her journey home. Wanting only her potato and Dina.

Imagine!Ellie: Picturing the farmhouse, *her home* the only one she’s ever had besides Joel. She’s trying so hard to get home.

Imagine!Ellie: Who’s weak, frail, injured and bleeding using all her strength to get to Dina and JJ.

Imagine!Ellie:Who knows how injured she is but won’t take a break despite being that.

Imagine!Ellie: Gets confronted by a group of hunters who try and steal from her. They take her food, she’s too weak. She hates that she’s too weak.

Imagine!Ellie: The hunters aren’t done there. They try to take the trinkets Ellie saved for Dina and JJ. But she won’t let them.

“Please don’t take them”. She’s too weak. Shes resorted to pleading. On the forest ground turning the leaves crimson as she tries to fight against them but to no avail.

They hold her down take her shit despite her pleas. They punch, kick, and stab before leaving her there unconscious.

Imagine!Ellie: Who wakes up, dizzy and foggy. The only thing in her mind is Dina and JJ. She needs to get to the farmhouse.

Imagine!Ellie: knows her injuries will kill her. Slowing bleeding out she crawls to the farmhouse, tears falling but she can’t even tell at this point.

Imagine!Ellie: Who was scared that when she left she would never see Dina and JJ again, so she has to get back.

Imagine!Ellie: Barely arrives at the farmhouse alive, almost smiling at the thought she made it to them, except she’s too tired l.

Imagine!Ellie:Who’s body drops after she opens the door, only to find nobody’s home.

Imagine!Ellie:Screaming in agony. Why did she leave in the first place.

Imagine!Ellie: Dying alone, bleeding out in. The farmhouse, her last moments longing for Dina and JJ.

Imagine!Dina: who hears the news and goes back to the farmhouse and sobs by Ellie’s dead body. Barely recognize-able as all Ellie’s strength was used to get back home. Why did she leave in the first place?

Inspired by:

[millsheat]

i need to talk about something. when the soldiers were escorting joel out of hospital, you could see that he was slowly coming to terms with the fact that he’s losing ellie and will never going to see her again.

but then it hit.

he was there again, twenty one years ago he was in the same position, only this time, he could make a difference.

the whole sequence, when you looked at joel — he was dead in the eyes. absolutely no remorse for the firefly soldies, his job was clear. he was determined to get his daughter and there was absolutely nothing or no one that could stop him. even the soldier who surrended, joel didn’t even think about sparing him, he shot him dead on the spot.

this is exactly what neil and craig talked about. it’s so rare and so special in a way — to get a new chance at life in this world, especially when it comes to love. but this love, parental love more specifically, can be also increredibly dangerous in terms of how far are you willing to go for that person. which this episode had proven from beginning to the end.

joel killed the doctor, he killed marlene — the only connection ellie had to her mother. he killed just about anyone who got in the way. he lied to ellie, took her out of there while still unconscious and in a sense, sacrificed ellie’s survivor guilt.

though his intentions might have been pure and though his love for ellie was strong and i’m sure that any parent would do the same in his shoes, it does not take away the fact that it was a selfish decision in way. i’m not going to talk about whether the cure would have been possible, it was never about that. it was about ellie’s guilt, ellie’s pain and her need to justify those who died on the way to get her there and joel knew it. he knew it in the hospital and he knew it in jackson where she made a confession.

he also knew that ellie didn’t believe him. she didn’t know what went down but she knew he lied to her. and, again, i thought of what kathleen had said: “you think the whole world revolves around her? that she’s worth everything?”

she was worth everything, for joel. does that make it right? no. joel knew what he did in that moment. he knew that he was risking everything, including his relationship with ellie. but for him, it was worth it. keeping ellie alive was worth the whole world. and even his own life.

[dilf-din]

If I Scream (Will You Hear Me?)

The Last of Us — Joel and Ellie

Also on AO3

WC: 2750

Warnings: episode 8 alternate ending, violence, torture, heavy themes of grief and death

Author’s note: this is my take on a buried alive prompt. I love writing for these characters, and the new pics we got today only reminded me of how much they mean to me. Enjoy (with caution)! 🫶🏼

And shoutout to my wonderful friend who graciously donated this title. I am nothing without you @ellies-little-gun

Ellie had done a lot of things wrong in her life. Spit in the face of a lot of authority figures, flipped the bird at one too many instructors, thrown punches with a few of her peers. It only made sense that it would all catch up with her at some point.

She had always believed in karma, some sort of cosmic reckoning, but being caged by a man who was threatening to eat her was not in the realm of possibilities for her when she agreed to cross the country with Joel.

She tried to make sense of her surroundings through her fuzzy head. The late afternoon light pouring in through the high windows was making her eyes hurt and her temples pound. If the sun was close to setting, maybe she was facing West? No, North? Not that it mattered even if she could figure it out anyway. She was unconscious the whole way there.

Ellie tried to remember what Joel had taught her about finding her way, but it only made her head throb worse, aching into the arch of her nose that was definitely broken.

She tried to ignore the rotting meat smell coming from the drain in the floor across the room from her. She was nauseous enough as it was.

With no projectiles, no way to pick the lock, and the exit so far away, she was, for lack of a better word, fucked. All she could do at this point was raise hell for them in her last moments. Kick and scratch and bite and scream, anything the piss them off one more time.

She was satisfied with that being her fate. They had made it so far, especially since Kansas City. She and Joel had beaten a lot of odds. Ellie only hoped he would go in his sleep, quickly and without a rush of pain or fear.

The creak of the door hinges shattered her fragile train of thought as panic once again overtook her body. Desperately, she pressed herself against the back wall of the cage to avoid the reach of the two men as they slithered across the cold floor to her.

“No! No! No! Get off me!” she shrieked, shifting her weight wildly and to no avail as the two large men carried her effortlessly to the long table and slammed her down on it.

Ellie struggled against their firm hold, doing anything she could to land a kick or an elbow to one of her assailants.

“Wait, wait!”

“Shut up!” the tall brunette spat at her, his cheeks flushed from the struggle.

“Wait, wait, wait wait! Don’t do it! Please don’t do it!”

At this point the red haired man had pulled a cleaver off the wall and swung at her, lodging it in the table next to her head.

“You had your chance,” David warned gravely. A sick look of satisfaction in his eyes.

“I’m infected! I’m infected,” she blurted out, and the struggling stopped.

“And now so are you,” she gestured to the fresh bite mark on the man’s hand with blood spilling from the punctures.

“Roll up my sleeve. Look at it. Look at it!” she pleaded wildly.

They proceeded to loosen their hold on her and yank the sleeve of her sweater up revealing the gnarled scar.

The two men exchanged glances, having a silent conversation.

“What did you say? Everything happens for a reason, right?” she goaded.

“David,” the dark haired man said with a warning tone.

“No. No, she would’ve turned by now. This isn’t real,” he reasoned through the muddled evidence in front of him.

“It looks pretty fuckin’ real to me!”

Ellie saw her chance. In one motion, she grabbed the cleaver and pulled it free, swinging it at the dark haired man. He stumbled backward, catching himself against the wall for balance, where the cleaver connected with his wrist and cut his hand clean off.

David had already rounded the head of the table and wrapped a wiry arm around her neck, covering her nose and mouth with a tattered, grey cloth.

Ellie tried not to breathe in, but as her eyes began to flutter within seconds as a sickly sweet smell overcame her.

Before her vision went completely black, she heard David murmur against her earlobe, “We have ways of dealing with cunts like you.”

__

Silver Lake. Ellie.

Those were the only two thoughts Joel was able to conjure as he limped through the snow and cold. He moved forward fueled only by rage and desperation, trying to focus on anything but the pain shooting through his aching body. Blood was still weeping out of his crudely stitched up wound from the exertion of the afternoon. Sweat dotted his forehead, though the temperatures were well below freezing. Each step and stretch of his tired frame made his abdomen scream in fiery pain, but he would be damned if he let another kid die on his watch.

He didn’t give a shit if he lived through today as long as he knew Ellie was safe and on her way back to Tommy.

He pushed on.

__

Quiet. Darkness.

Two things Ellie expected to greet her in the afterlife. She always hoped it would be peaceful, that it would feel like waking up in the middle of the night and knowing someone you loved was just around the corner, a second away from racing to you if you called out their name.

Riley’s name was fully formed in the back of her throat, ready to pierce the nothingness around her like the Big Bang, but she just as quickly swallowed it back down to her core, feeling selfish for even thinking of it as a possibility.

The rest of her senses started to dial back in, and she realized she smelled earth. Her arms tentatively stretched out beside her, and wood brushed her fingertips, causing her to retract her hands quickly. She pressed her palms upward and was met with more solid wood. Panic and realization collided in her mind, and she swallowed thickly.

Those motherfuckers buried me alive.

Another scream bubbled beneath her surface, years of compounded rage barely kept under wraps.

She didn’t know much about how quickly her air would run out down here. If she didn’t die from lack of oxygen, the cold would get her next, and if not the cold, starvation. No matter which way she looked at it, her end would be a miserable one. Maybe she should’ve just let them decapitate her instead of running her mouth. Just like everyone had always told her, her inability to shut the fuck up would leave her in a bodybag one day.

There was nothing she could do but contemplate her life choices and hate her own guts for getting herself into this situation.

She hoped Joel was at peace.

Maybe she could see him again soon and apologize for everything. They would certainly end up in the same place when everything was said and done.

The wood beneath her was cold. She was already shivering, the sound of her teeth chattering cut through the silence cocooning her.

Even though there was no one there to see her, she still felt ashamed when she started to cry. She cried for every casualty that had amassed from her curse of immunity. She cried for Riley, for Tess, for Sam and Henry. She cried for Joel and for Sarah. She cried for Tommy who would surely miss his brother. And lastly, she cried for herself. She cried for the fact that no one would miss her, that her absence wouldn’t touch a single soul left on this earth. Every bit of bullshit she had been through was for nothing. Her life had been a constant cycle of pain, of loss and blood and emptiness.

The hot tears tracking down her cheeks were a welcome reprieve from the bone piercing chill that would surely carry her into death.

Ellie cried herself into exhaustion, and hoped that when she woke up this time, she really would be dead.

__

Joel circled wide through the woods to hopefully come up on the periphery of the town. He still didn’t have a very good idea what he was working with, how many people would be there, how many would be armed. A steely determination set in his gut as he tried to limp as quietly as he could through the cover of the trees. Snow crunched rhythmically with each calculated step.

Several minutes passed without any person exiting the set of doors he had focused on, and he took his shot to half sprint across the open air.

The door gave without much external pressure, one of the only good things about the passage of time and lack of upkeep: corrosion.

Joel quickly shut the door and found himself in near total darkness. He fumbled around in search of his flashlight, and used the weak beam to illuminate the unfamiliar space. A shelf in the entrance caught his eye, and he crouched to rummage through the piles of parcels wrapped in smooth brown paper. The bottom shelf had something that pulled his eyes downward, something round and purple with dulled markings. A lump rose in his throat as he turned over the small monster keychain hanging from Ellie’s green pack.

Maybe he was already too late.

He pulled her pack from the shelf and swung it over his shoulder. She would be glad to have it when they got out of this shithole.

Joel rounded the corner shining his light lazily to see if he could find any sort of clue as to who these people were. What he wasn’t expecting to see were decapitated bodies, flayed and strung up like they were waiting for their turn in the smoker.

He almost dry heaved at the thought, his empty stomach turned in on itself. Quickly retreating, he made his way back to the door he came in. The thin window let in a minimal amount of grey light. He peered out before pulling the creaky door open, but stopped suddenly, his hand tightly gripping the handle.

Two men were emerging from the woods carrying a shovel and speaking in hushed tones. The taller of the two was covered in a significant amount of blood and was sporting a sour grimace.

Joel swallowed tightly as his eyes tracked them around the corner of the building. Something in his gut told him he didn’t have time to waste. His jaw set hard as he yanked the door open and stepped back into the cold.

A thin trail of blood atop the snow easily led him to the men as he stalked around the back of the complex staring through the scope of his rifle.

They were shucking off outer layers and hanging up the shovel in a small tool shed, both backs turned towards him.

“Where is she?” he barked, pressing the nose of his rifle against the back of taller man’s neck.

“You know we have people looking for you,” the shorter man said in a calm voice.

“Answer me,” Joel spat.

“May I turn around?” the shorter man continued.

Joel lowered his rifle and fired a shot into the tall man’s ankle.

He howled in pain as his knees buckled. When he reached for his mangled foot reflexively, Joel noticed that his right hand had been recently cut off. It had been wrapped with a poorly constructed tourniquet. A small moment of pride flashed through his mind as he knew that had to be Ellie.

“Jesus Christ, David, just tell him,” the man sobbed. There was almost no color remaining in his face. No flush from the cold or the walk. He wouldn’t last long, Joel reasoned.

David turned to face him. Ice blue eyes, red hair, and a diplomatic look on his face.

“You’re very hard to kill, stranger.”

Joel’s jaw was hard set, rifle pointed bluntly against the man’s chest.

“Your buddies were easy to kill,” Joel said flatly.

David tried to maintain a poker face, but Joel could see the first crack in his facade.

With a shake of his head, “You’re not in charge here, not any more. Now, I’m gonna ask one more time. Where is she?”

David stared at him blankly, seeming to take pleasure in playing the long game.

“She’s in the cemetery. In the woods. Take the path down for about half a mile,” his partner groaned out.

Joel’s eyes flickered to the other man momentarily and decided he had no reason to lie in this moment.

The second his eyes left the man on the left, David started rummaging in his coat for his pistol.

Joel angled the barrel down slightly, and blasted him in the hand, drawing a howl from the red haired man.

“Son of a bitch!” he wailed, but his screaming slowly devolved into laughter.

Joel crouched down to look him in the eye, grabbing his chin firmly and angling it to look him dead on.

“Something funny I’m missin’?”

“I just hope you can dig fast,” he gave a twisted smile, tears welling in his beady eyes.

Fuck.

Joel didn’t have ammo to waste, but he didn’t consider this a waste.

He stood back up and shot him dead in the forehead. His wiry frame crumpled instantly, and Joel turned to grab the shovel.

“Wait! Wait,” the other man cried through the pain.

Joel turned once more.

“Please just kill me,” he pleaded, “Please.”

For some reason, Joel found mercy in his heart, and fired one more round into the man’s head.

The path through the woods wasn’t clearly marked, save for the sporadic trail of blood that had no doubt fallen from the other man’s hand, or, lack thereof.

Joel pushed himself as fast as his body would allow, knowing he didn’t have forever to get to her, and that anyone could’ve started trailing him, drawn to the scene by the gunfire.

His head was spinning by the time he reached the small round clearing where he saw what he assumed were crudely marked headstones. A quick scan of the ground, and his eyes landed on the only fresh patch of dirt. Within seconds, his coat and their packs were in a pile next to a headstone marked S.M. He tried to bury the thought of her in his mind as he pushed the shovel into the earth with his heel, surprised to find it very loosely packed.

Another wave of horror overcame him. They were planning on coming back for her.

He had no way of knowing how long he had been at this, save the sun’s position in the sky, getting closer to sinking as he pleaded to be done. His wound was blinding him with pain as he dug, slinging dirt over his shoulder and to the edge of the hole.

One more push, and he jumped back as his shovel struck a loose bone.

He paused and scraped his boot across the ground, feeling wood. He crouched down and frantically ran his fingers through the cold dirt looking for the edge of the coffin. He found two latches on the righthand side, and quickly loosened the locks before standing to the side to pull it open.

Joel held his breath. He had buried a little girl once before. He never expected to dig one up.

As the thin door swung open, Ellie lunged forward, swinging a crude piece of wood she had ripped from the side board.

She shrieked weakly and wildly.

Joel caught her arm tenderly, deflecting the makeshift weapon she had clutched in her bloody hand.

“No! Get off me! Get off!” she sobbed as she tried so struggle out of his grip.

“It’s me,” Joel cooed softly.

“Get-“

“It’s me,” he cupped her face, and she stilled at the touch.

Her big brown eyes bore into his as she experienced the relief of safety for the first time in days.

She continued to gasp in big lungfuls of clean air as she sobbed. He has never seen her look so afraid.

“Hey, look. It’s me. It’s me. It’s okay.”

“He, they,” she stuttered, unable to find the words, and burying herself in his embrace.

Joel’s hand came up firmly behind her neck, pulling her into his warmth as she trembled.

Truthfully, he had never been more thankful to see another person alive.

“It’s okay. It’s okay, baby girl. I got you.”

His own eyes closed as he felt his own fear and panic finally melt away.

“I got you.”