#disarm fic

[writingsofmax]

Disarm pt. 20

Words: 2.6K

Summary: Edward comes home and gets a little treat

Tags: SMUT, blowjob, deep throat, descriptions of violence

warnings: SMUT, minors do not interact, descriptions of violence.

Chapter 20- Betrayed Desires

Y/N heard the front door opening and practically tripped over herself going to greet Eddie. He stepped through the door looking like his usual self. There was no heavy green army jacket, military boots, thick leather mask or gloves. Instead, he was wearing a black pea coat that was covered in a light dusting of snow. The snowflakes also coated the top of his head and clung to the messy hair that framed his face. The slopes of his cheeks and the tip of his nose were tinted pink from the cold, making his already boyish features more rosy. He looked like an average, albeit cold, citizen of Gotham. Cute and inviting, even. It was hard to imagine that he had tortured someone so publically and brutally just a few hours ago.  I wonder if he’s dead yet, Y/N couldn’t help but ponder as she approached her boyfriend. 

He couldn’t see her just yet because his glasses were fogged up from the cold, but she wrapped her arms around him anyway.

“Hi baby,” Edward breathed into her hair, immediately melting into her embrace. Having him physically there brought on a sudden pang of guilt.

“I’m sorry..” Y/N groaned, “I never meant to cause you trouble,” she mumbled into the front of his cold jacket– it smelled like fresh snow. “Or have anything like this happen..”

“Don’t be sorry. If anything, I’m glad you did it.”

Edward shrugged off his coat, laying it on the top of the couch.

“That asshole had it coming,” he grumbled darkly as he wiped the fog from his glasses off on his shirt. After placing his glasses back on his face he looked at her brightly.

“The way you took care of him too! You really let him have it!” Eddie giggled, his eyes shining with adoration.

“I’m so proud of you! The way you duct taped him to the chair was a thing of beauty!”

Eddie gushing over her made her feel antsy, “It really wasn’t,” she stammered, “I was just panicked.”

Eddie’s hands cupped her face, the chill in them sinking into her skin as he tilted her head to meet his gaze, “You’re a natural sweetie! You truly are so remarkable. My perfect angel.”

The way Edward seemed so at ease about the whole situation helped calm down her own nerves about it. However, dark curiosity about the situation continued to poke at the edges of her brain and she couldn’t help but ask, “Did um… Did..” 

Edward tilted his head as she worked on phrasing her question more delicately. She was still unsure of how to talk about these matters. “Is um…” she stopped again while Edward watched her expectantly, “Is he dead yet?” Edward’s face lit up at that question, “Oh! He died hours ago! By the time I uploaded the video he had been dead for awhile,” he explained, cheerfully. “It was an easy clean up too because I put a tarp under him to catch any of the…..fall out..” Y/N felt her stomach begin to churn while listening to him, “And it wasn’t even hard to keep him tied up because he wasn’t much of a gym rat it seemed,” he continued, giggling at his own joke. “Really the hardest thing was cleaning the cage..and getting the rats out of course. But I was able to throw him down on the tarp and just wrap it up and..” He trailed off after looking at Y/N’s face. She had been trying to hide the growing nausea but must not have been doing a very good job of it. “Sorry,” he mumbled sheepishly. “But really– you have nothing to worry about, I–I took care of everything,” he assured her, his eyes large and earnest. He fell backwards onto the couch, his long legs sprawled out over the arms. Y/N giggled as he pouted and reached out his arms to her into which she folded herself immediately. His lips and nose were still cold as she felt them against hers. She ran her fingers through his hair, pulling back only to press more kisses all over his face. Edward hummed in appreciation, wrapping his arms around her. She moved down, resting her head on his chest, her face crooked into his neck as she cuddled him. His heart pounded under her ear, its rhythm fast yet comforting. He absent-mindedly traced his fingers over her back as they settled into the couch together. His hands moved to her waist, and gently rested there, but she felt his grip tightening. Glancing up at his face, he didn’t seem to be aware of it. His gaze was fixated on the ceiling as his leg bounced underneath her in an on-going tremor. As the grip on her waist was reaching near-painful levels, she asked, “Eddie? Are you okay?” “Mm..?” “Are you alright?” she repeated. Edward’s eyes had that familiar glaze over them and she could tell he was chewing on the inside of his cheek. It was a beat before he answered, as if her words had to catch up with his brain, “Yeah baby.. I think I just need a minute to calm down.” 

“Calm down?” “Y- Yeah.. I have a hard time…. Coming down after,” he mumbled, peering down at her from under his glasses before returning his gaze to the ceiling. He seemed embarrassed, not wanting to explain further or look at her. 

Poor Eddie. He worked so hard at keeping her safe and taking care of her. Even now when he was clearly on edge he took the time to make sure she was comfortable first. When really it should be him that gets to relax. 

Eddie was staring at the ceiling, his pupils blown wide, hands trembling as he continued to hold her. He just killed someone for ME, when he already does so much.

“Would you like it if I helped you calm down?” she ventured, trailing her fingers up his arm. Edward shuffled under her and propped himself up on his elbows, giving her a curious look, his eyes dark and focused solely on her, “What do you have in mind?” 

She felt butterflies in her stomach at his question, but her resolve was only shaken for a second once she had gotten his full attention. Shifting upwards, she straddled his thighs, bending slightly to unbutton his pants. 

To her delight she felt he was already hard. 

“I could.. take care of you,” she suggested, her hands hovering over his waistband. Edward stiffened at her advances, sitting up so suddenly she almost fell off of him. 

“I-It’s alright! You don’t um… you d-don’t have to do that,” Edward choked out, his face and ears a bright pink.

“I know I don’t have to, I want to,” she answered, hopping off of him to kneel at his feet, “I want to make you feel as good as you’re always making me feel.”

Edward looked like a deer in headlights. Cute. “I um… I…um…Are you sure?” 

His eyes were so wide under his glasses, equal parts nervous and excited. She didn’t plan on keeping him waiting for long, and was going to take extra special care of him. 

“Of course.” 

She kneeled down between his legs, and pulled his pants down, revealing his underwear. She heard Eddie’s breath hitch as she grabbed the top of his waistband. 

Pulling it down slowly, his cock sprang forth, and Eddie stifled his groan by covering his mouth with his hand. It seemed painfully stiff and was already leaking, twitching in the open air. She peered up at him and his face was flushed, his other fist white knuckle gripping the couch. When she put her hand on his cock, it was throbbing and hot to the touch. Edward moaned just at her touching it briefly. 

“You are really wound up..” she mused before rubbing it gently, and laying a gentle kiss on the tip. 

Edward was unable to answer, his body tense, and head pressed back onto the couch cushions. 

She ran her tongue over the underside of it, the warm velvet feeling of his skin brushing against her tongue. There was a slightly salty taste as she took the head into her mouth, running her hand down to the base of it. 

“Oh…. fuck,” she heard him whimper, his hips shuddering at her touch. 

She started slowly, running her tongue messily over his length, easing him into it. Looking up at him every once in a while to gauge his reaction. His eyes were fluttering shut, lips parted slightly as he gasped at her movements. He looks so pretty like this, he always looks pretty. She took him in her mouth fully, moving down until she could feel him at the back of her throat.

Even though he was completely filling her mouth, she wasn’t to the base yet. This might be a challenge, she realized, but Eddie deserved it. Using her hand she stroked him as she sucked, moving farther down each time, working in a nice rhythm, as his breathing quickened. His glasses were starting to slip off his face from sweat, which she assumed meant she was doing an alright job. 

Eddie’s hands moved from the couch into her hair at that, pulling at it in a way that drove her wild. The Riddler’s hands in my hair… the Riddler using my mouth for pleasure, the thought was enough to spark a flame within her. All she could think of now was him and how badly she wanted to be good for him in this moment. To relieve him of this tension that was built up inside of him. To be his good girl. 

He whimpered as he bucked his hips forward, and suddenly he pressed down on her head, pushing her all the way to the hilt. Tears pricked her eyes and she gagged as his cock was pushed deep into her throat. Holding her in place, Eddie went harder and faster into her mouth, fucking her throat. 

She coughed and gagged, gripping Edward’s thighs tightly. 

Just as suddenly as he started he released her and she jerked backward, taking a deep breath of air, tears and saliva dripping down her face. 

“I’m—  I’m so so sorry baby! I didn’t mean to, are you alright, can you breathe, is….” 

Edward’s frantic words faded out in the background as she coughed some more and caught her breath again.

“It's okay Eddie, I actually like it,” she admitted, looking up at him coyly. For once Eddie was speechless, his eyes glazing over beneath his lenses as he let out a shaky, “Oh.” “Now relax,” she hummed as she wrapped her lips around his cock again. Squeezing her thighs together trying to ignore the growing heat in her core from his rough treatment, she took him all the way to the base again. The weight of his cock pressed down on her tongue and filled her mouth deliciously. She held herself there, drool dripping down onto her thighs while she felt his cock twitch in her throat. 

That’s it, just like that, she thought as Edward started moving once again, his fingers tangling themselves in her hair as he started to control the pace. 

Edward worked so hard for her, had even killed for her, the least she could do was deep throat the man.

His thrusts became more erratic and she could tell he was getting closer. Her hand stroked what wasn’t in her mouth and she moaned, as her hunger for him grew. That only served to egg him on further as he gripped her hair and sheathed himself in her fully. There was nowhere for her to move, fully enclosed with his legs on either side of her, his hand holding her in place. She was completely at his mercy as he used her. Completely his. 

With a final thrust he released into her mouth, his hand tightening in her hair as he came. She swallowed what he had given her, pleased with his reaction. Letting go of her hair, Edward slumped back on the couch, panting heavily. 

“I’m going to go wash my face real quick,” she announced, a small smirk on her lips.  

Edward nodded, “Uh-huh,” was his breathless reply. 

In the bathroom, she splashed water onto her face, washing away the smeared makeup and tears. Coming back out into the living room, Edward was curled up on the couch, looking much more relaxed, his eyelids heavy. 

My turn can wait, she thought. She grabbed a blanket from the chair and gently laid it over him, tucking him in. He snuggled down into it immediately with a small smile. 

“Thank you..” 

“No problem Eddie, I’m gonna make us some tea okay?”  

“Mm-hm” came his reply from under the blanket. 

Y/N switched on the TV for him to watch and laid the remote within reach for him before going to the kitchen. By the time she came back out with two mugs of tea, Eddie was sleeping, remote forgotten at his side. 

Oh good. She was relieved that he had calmed down enough to get some much needed rest. He worked so hard all the time, and she had only added to it. He looked peaceful sleeping there, and she hoped his dreams were peaceful as well. Sitting quietly on the arm of the couch above his head, she reached down and rubbed his back in small circles. 

It was a great feeling knowing that she could take care of him too.

Next

[pentapoda]

Well, i am writing fic again. Because i can apparently spend years lurking in mxtx proximal fandoms (shen yuan i love u), then a full year watching vox machina and then critical role campaign 1 and campaign 2, devouring all the caleb fic i can find and still not feel the energy to participate in the fandom. then be like no, no, this silly blue man and very serious tiny man with his violence ballet, this is where i have something to contribute (read, "someone did the au where the coinflip went the other way, right, right? huh i guess not, haha wouldn't it be funny if--")

???

Anyway it has been one month, i have written 25k, probably 15k to go, there is a Google slides doc with a diagram of the silken squall (its a giant kite, btw) and a map of the continent of marquet with to-scale color-coded annotations of each group's location and distance traveled by day, i have rolled stats for dorians parents (sorry dadvernwind, please have some extra guards, you need them), i made a ppt chart comparing parentvernwinds to the party's stats (y axis: win hearts [wis+cha], x axis: win fights [str + dex + con], bubble size: hit points) , i have a spreadsheet with the silken squall's land use and wealth distribution, ashton wants to know why he's so stressed when he's not even in the main pairing (jokes on him though he got to talk to dorian's mom twice and she threw out my arranged marriage subplot, look she says to me there's a marriageable young genasi right here who knows how to protect his own, they bonded over protective violence guys, ashton didn't notice), bell's hells sucked so bad at Orym's resurrection ritual i thought he might actually just stay dead, i had to go back and just let fearne lie,i gave the squall griffins to solve a travel-speed issue and now dorian's bitchy neglected griffin is the star of the last third of this fic, Imogen has emerged from the wings to live the horse girl movie she always wanted, and orym and dorian have not yet shared a scene together but i swear its happening soon

haven't written complete fic (not just a story set up) or anything longer than 10k since jan 2016 so.... this is good... tentatively optimistic here...

in conclusion:

(fcg isn't on there because the fic has bigger parts for orym, dorian, ashton, & fearne, but then i added laudna & imogen to make dorian's dad look better. ...it didn't work. XD)

[samarecharm]

Gotta make a list of personas each thief loves the most. They gotta have favorites; you just know Ryuji lost his fucking mind seeing Hell Biker for the first time

[newbiealliance]

when will the osc realize that basing a horror au around a character's mental health problems is really weird. like i promise you making paper a murderer based on the fact that he has DID isnt innovative or unique youre just parroting years of stigma and Really Shitty and Bad horror tropes that get mentally ill people killed

[kaelleid]

Izzy Hands Fic Recs (March 1-30th)

My favorite of the Izzy fics that I read between March 1-30th 2023. See other recs here.

all used and beaten up by shatteredhourglass (Ed/Izzy)

Nah. He isn’t moving. If he goes outside, then he has to deal with the crew. (Not to mention Stede, who’s still trying to apologise to him.)

Gallows' Humor by mossydreamz (Ed/Izzy)

When Izzy gets caught up in a raid on a pub, he's twenty-eight and fucking hates the king. He struggles and spits all the way up to the gallows, giving them hell, cursing and screaming like a mad man. Edward, watching hidden from the crowd, has never loved him more.

Atonement by Sir_Bear (Ed/Izzy)

“They mentioned something called matelotage?” Stede says, more question than statement.

same boy you've always known by givemebaretrees (Izzy & Ed)

Izzy gets turned into his teenage self by a witch, after telling Fang to grow up. What's the crew to do?

misjudged your limit by pan_thesilea (Izzy & Ed)

Ask anyone, Izzy doesn't cry. But he does cry, a lot. Just not in front of anyone. Until now.

Oh Captain, My Captain by Cracked_Chalice (Ed & Stede & Izzy)

The one where Izzy is a werewolf and it's hardly an issue. Until it is.

Disarmed by Madame_Isabel (Jim/Izzy)

Trapped on the Revenge with an increasingly unstable Ed, Jim and Izzy bond by fighting each other. Then it gets complicated.

Until The Stars Fall Down by FrazzledWriter (Jim & Izzy)

The most unlikely crew member comes to help in Jim's hour of need. Why did it have to be Izzy fucking Hands?

[applesandbannas747]

Wait, I'm confused... do you like the Fence novels or no? Because your first review sounded positive and happy with the fun humor, and then every other thing I've seen from you about them is most pointing out the (very prominent, very not-good) flaws with them.

fair question! I had a Journey with the Fence novels and it was hellish. First, please keep in mind that I am unhealthily fixated on Fence and that does impact things all along the way.

When Striking Distance was announced, I was as excited as anyone, though wary because Pacat was handing it off to someone else to write. Still, I was hopeful--and more hopeful after reading In Other Lands because, despite the disturbing sexism that squicked me tf out, I really enjoyed that book! And so I was very eager to get my hands on Striking Distance. So I went on an absolute quest to get an ARC...and I did! It took a lot of dead ends and desperate tries, but remember that I'm insane. So I got my hands on an advanced copy by emailing the editor assigned to the book (who has since left the position). And as is custom with ARCs, he asked me to send my review when it went live.

Reading Striking Distance was such an experience dude. I wanted to love it as much as I loved the comics--remember that at this point, we only had up to issue 12 and the characterization therein. I love the OG 12 issues, and they'll always hold more sway in my understanding of the characters, but when reading SD, it was very clear that I'd read the entire comic completely fucking wrong. Remember my unhealthy obsession? Yeah. Trying to come to terms with Fence being something so opposite of everything I really loved about it and the fact that my reading of it was so wrong was really hard--like mental breakdowns level of hard. I wish I was joking. But I tried to force myself to love the reality of Fence anyway, despite kind of hating the novel, which I absolutely would not admit to myself because disliking any part of Fence felt like SUCH a betrayal to it, and I really really really didn't want to hate the characters I'd spent so much time bringing to life in my mind, because selfishly I didn't want to have to divorce my idea of the characters from canon, I just wanted to be able to love the canon characters and add onto them a little the way I'd been able to with the comics up until that point. So especially right after reading Striking Distance, I was insistent on liking it, and even as I slowly started to acknowledge that there were parts of it that made me want to scratch off my skin they made me so uncomfortable (see: the steak scene), I was really hell-bent on understating my dislike/criticism of it.

So when I went to write my review for Striking Distance to send to the really nice editor who sent me the ARC, I didn't want to betray Fence, I hadn't really processed my issues with it (and was--and honestly still am to an extent--worried that I was just being an entitled baby because my stupid fanfictions/interpretations were so fucking wrong), I didn't want to upset or hurt the feelings of the man who did me this HUGE favor, and because I wanted a chance to get an early copy of a possible sequel (because hating the novels didn't lesson my Need for early access to them. i know I'm unwell about fence jdhfa), I pulled out all the nicest thoughts I had about Striking Distance, exaggerated them and stretched them and sugar-coated everything else to provide a review that was nice and non-hostile.

Obviously, the longer I sat with Striking Distance and processed some things about it and about me, the more I started picking apart all the aspects that I hated and found I was able to produce reasons for each piece I disliked and was also able to pinpoint in the OG comics where I got all the pieces of the stories and characters I loved. So I did have to divorce my idea of Fence from canon if I wanted to keep loving Fence. And when I decided to keep loving Fence for all the reasons I used to instead of feel sick looking at/thinking about the franchise and characters, I was sort of free of the things holding me back from speaking about the things I didn't like, and so I started to analyze and essay and post about the novels and my untangled, truthful thoughts about them.

So I don't like the novels--there are maybe 3-4 things total that passed the vibe-check for me in both novels. I never liked the novels, and I lied about liking Striking Distance...but I was lying to myself about that one as much as anyone. And I haven't changed that review because, at the time, that was where my feelings were about it. So up it stays.

Here’s my fun little list of some of the places I've explained my dislike of the novels if you're curious, but yeah these are the real thoughts, the SD review was a carefully crafted lie <3

My full review of Disarmed

Autism representation in Seiji

Seiji in general

Eugene

Eugesse as a concept in Disarmed

Eugesse interactions in Disarmed

Nick's bisexuality

Coach Williams and sexual harassment

[lover-of-mine]

I think I accidentally made Eddie demi in the wayf fic. I made him demi in the sex fic. I love this particular version of these idiots.

[angelsdean]

dean’s a smashing pumpkins fan btw 

[happygirl2oo2]

Hey, sorry for the slight delay but happy Fence Secret Santa @harvard-said-no 🎁 Surprise, I was your Santa again this year (yes we're that small of a community lol) 💗

Summary: Another Winter break / Christmas at Kings Row but this time, Harvard and Aiden are (finally) a couple. How will they celebrate their first holiday officially together? Un(yet)known to Harvard though, Aiden's got a plan in mind :)

[Click here to check the 2020 and 2021 Haiden fics I wrote for Fence Secret Santa in the previous years]

[bouncydragon]

Have another snippet! I swear I will post the fic, one day... Hopefully this year...

"Rise and shine, big brother!" Ada yelled. Well, it sounded like she was yelling anyway. "Fuck off," he grumbled. His head felt like it was about to explode. That would be bloody inconvenient, wouldn't it? "Come on, Tom, get off the fucking floor." "Noo," he answered, not sure if he slurred from sleep or from being hungover. Probably both. "The floor understands me."

[writingsofmax]

Disarm pt. 23

Words: 1.8 K

Summary: Y/N finds herself in trouble and Edward goes to save her. Warnings: gun violence, shooting in a public place, general canon-typical violence, puking, graphic depictions of illness

Tags: angst, violence, kidnappin Author's note: self conscious about this chapter because I am not an action writer but I did my best. writing this was like pulling teeth. sorry for the long wait everyone. ALSO as always, a very special thank you to @e-moneyyy for helping me with some of the writing in this chapter!!!!! i would die without her

ALSO: this is the penultimate chapter of disarm so Thankyou to everyone who’s been reading this

Chapter 23- Bullet With Butterfly Wings

“She has medical problems with her heart.”

Y/N was nauseous. Her heart thumped erratically in her chest and her head pounded as she opened her eyes. She couldn’t get a read on her surroundings as each shape and object in the room bled into the next. It registered that people were talking but she could only make out some of what they were saying. “You gave her what!? Oh Jesus Christ, you—” the words fuzzed out again as she struggled to gain her bearings,”--she might die before he even gets here.” Another man answered, but she was unable to understand it. She realized dully after a moment that she couldn’t move, her ankles were tied and her arms were restricted behind her back. She was seated against the wall of a large room, the bricks cold against her back.

She coughed and slumped down on the floor, drool running in rivulets out of her mouth. I’m gonna puke. “You alright, sweetheart?” A voice asked. She couldn’t bring herself to answer and just watched from the ground as a pair of clean, black leather shoes approached her. They stopped a foot away from her face, before the person wearing them crouched down. I’m gonna die here. “Come on.” The voice said, as hands grabbed her shoulders and propped her back up against the wall, “Up you go.” As her vision came back into focus, she looked at his face. Carmine Falcone. This is bad. Another voice from across the room asked, “Are you sure that this guy that’s coming is… safe? What if he tries something?” I’m gonna die here.  Falcone stopped inspecting her for a second to turn and answer, “I’m certain we’ll lose a few men, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.” 

“I’m sorry about all of this unpleasantness,” Falcone apologized, turning his attention back to her, “Here. Let’s get you out of these ropes, huh?” He said, slowly untying her restraints. “Get that circulation going a little better.” 

She just nodded dumbly at him, unable to move or talk. Waves of nausea ripped through her as her body shook. Even with her ankles untied, there was no way she could stand. She realized as he undid the ties on her arms, that she could barely move those either. 

I’m gonna die here. Another man approached Falcone, handing him a blanket, which he then laid on top of Y/N. “Lose a few men?” The man asked. “Well he is an emotionally unstable guy.” Falcone replied. She wondered if it would be better to just give up completely. She could just ask Falcone to kill her. Like most Gothamites, she knew how gangs operated and knew that Falcone had no intention of letting her leave alive. She took a deep heaving breath, but oxygen wasn’t making it to her lungs. Move. Get up. She tried, but her limbs had turned to stone. This useless body. Always letting me down. 

She was going to die here and her life hadn’t meant much of anything. She had spent years feeling like she was dead already. Life was something everyone else got to have, but not her. Her days were filled with pain and fatigue, spending days in bed, and being a burden for everyone else to worry about. That could be over if she just let it. A wave of nausea ripped through her then, causing her to empty the contents of her stomach onto the concrete floor. Shit. 

The group of men considered her for a moment, while Falcone snapped his fingers at them.

“Clean that up before he gets here.” 

He…? She wondered as one of the men came over with a rag. He gets here…Oh… She winced as she tried to focus her eyes, but the room kept spinning. Eddie… he means Eddie..

Edward. She wanted him to come— to be able to see him one last time before the end, but then he would die too. Falcone would kill him. Falcone must have figured it out…She cursed herself. She had known this was going to end badly from the beginning, but hadn’t put a stop to any of it. Too late now. She wasn’t going to try to run, she was far too weak for that anyway. Besides, what chance would she have against a mob boss and his goons? Her entire body ached. She laid down on the concrete, pulling the blanket under her head just to rest her eyes. It won’t be long now. Won’t be long at all until he kills me. Strangely, she felt relieved at that. There wasn’t much to miss in her life, she had been alone and at odds with the world these last couple of years. Well maybe not alone. Eddie had been there towards the end. But what had she done except worry him every day? He didn’t need to live his life caring for her. Thinking of his face caused her pain. 

I am not the bright and beautiful girl you say I am, Eddie. She didn’t want to continue being a millstone around his neck. 

In fact, he was probably going to die now because of her. Just another person caught in the black hole of her life. And still, she wanted to see him. Before Eddie, everything had been so lifeless. She had been living the same day every day, but then she ran into him that night. On that night, she had thought she was going to die, but for some reason she had chosen to live. She fought for her life by running away even when it felt like her lungs were gonna give out. And that choice she had made, the choice to stay alive, led her to Edward. Eddie opening the car door, the street lights reflecting off of his glasses. Eddie’s hands that had not touched her yet, but would, on the steering wheel. Before they had known each other. How her life had changed since then.  So are you gonna die here? A little voice inside of her asked. Or are you gonna get up?Is your life over? Are you gonna die here? Moments with Edward flitted through her mind. Curled up on the couch with him on a lazy weekend afternoon, Eddie reading to her in bed.  Getting food at the diner with him when she was feeling well enough to. Autumn walks through the park with their hands intertwined. That electric feeling at the estate sale when he had grabbed her hand for the first time, but not the last. 

Is your life over? Are you gonna die here?  Memories of kissing him, touching him. The long conversations they would have about anything. They were small things, maybe even silly things to most people, but to her it was a life. 

Is your life over?

She couldn’t go for a walk with him whenever she wanted. She couldn’t even be a person that got out of bed every day. She hated those things about herself. She wanted to be normal. But even though she wasn’t, her life had started to become enjoyable again despite it. It was the little things that made her heart rebel against the thought of not seeing him again. Are little things enough to make a life out of? 

Are you going to die here?

Isn’t that all anyone’s life is? A collection of moments big and small that you create meaning from? Get up. Falcone hadn’t left her tied up. The two other men had left. It was just her and him in the room. He had a gun at his side.  Get up. 

—————?————— Edward was outside of the iceberg lounge right on time.

He knocked on the large metal door covered in graffiti and stickers and it swung open. 

“Password?” A large man asked, having to yell over the sound of the deafening music coming from within the club.   Edward laughed, “I have a question for you, actually!”

The man behind the door wasn’t amused, “Just give me the password or stay outside.”

He looked Edward up and down, taking in the coat and mask, “Freak.” he added.

Edward, who could care less about his comments, continued, “Here’s the question!” he chirped, “Who stole my girlfriend and has a hole in their head?”

“Um–”

BANG. A gunshot rang out startling those in the back of the club, closest to the doors.

“YOU, silly!” Edward exclaimed as the doorman dropped dead on the ground. Patrons were yelling and scrambling away from the door. Not everyone in the club had seen or heard because the music was deafening. However, he knew that as those in the back continued to scream, panic, and push forward against the crowd to get away, it would become chaos. He was going to use that to his advantage.

He slipped in between waves of the crowd as he made it to the stairway at the side of the cavernous room. The music reverberated through his bones and the overwhelming rainbow lights washed over him continuously, but he didn’t care.

Looking up the stairs, he saw the elevator that would take him to where she was being held. In the back of his mind he noticed that the screams from the bottom floor were getting louder, as more people discovered the body. Taking up his attention currently was a gang member standing at the top of the stairs.

For a brief moment the two of them locked eyes before Edward reached into his coat pocket. 

BANG Reaching the top of the stairs, Edward stepped over his body as more people fled.

Elevator. People were pushing past him now, as he made his way up the stairs. As he reached the top of the landing he focused on the elevator doors only a few steps away. As he approached, the doors slid open with three more men waiting inside.

BANG BANG BANG

As he stepped inside the elevator he noticed with irritation that the doors wouldn’t close fully. With a sigh, he kicked the offending body out of the way, letting the other two bodies ride the elevator with him. He was almost to where she was.

He reloaded his gun as he traveled up to the top floor, muttering to himself, “The man who invented it doesn’t want it for himself, The man who bought it doesn’t need it for himself, The man who needs it, doesn’t know it when he needs it, what am I?”

He held his gun at the doors, ready to kill anyone who was standing there, and sure enough, two more men were there, but he was ready.

Stepping over their bodies a few moments later, he giggled, “The answer is a COFFIN!” he exclaimed, kicking one of them, “COME ON, the answer is so EASY!” he laughed as he advanced down the hallway.

BANGHe stiffened at the sound of a gunshot from the room at the end of the hallway.

No. I’m not too late, I’m–He ran down the hallway, bursting through the doors, gun ready and–

“Eddie…?”

He was greeted by her shaky voice, and there she was. In one piece. She was holding a gun with both hands, her entire body shaking.

At her feet Falcone lay dead.

[saviourkingslut]

god this series is pretty enjoyable but it's also reminding me of one of my biggest pet peeves with the mcu which is that american (and now also wakandan) elite troops just think they can drop anywhere in the world, kill a bunch of people, destroy a bunch of monumental buildings and call it a day. when cap america says the dora milaje 'have no jurisdiction here' and ayo is like 'the dora milaje have jurisdiction wherever they find themselves to be' actually none of y'all have jurisdiction because you are. in latvia. or whatever is left of it post thanos i don't keep track. i realise that this was the entire point of civil war but like nothing has changed

[smutstationchoochoo]

Desperate

COD Men x FemReader

Hear me out: a sex pollen fic where reader isn’t affected but he is and he is gone.

Word count: ~3.6k

A/N: It’s just the poorly written sex pollen drabble of my dreams, it’s fuck or die lads. Insert your favorite COD man here. Please forgive me for any spelling/grammar mistakes and my complete lack of knowledge regarding military things, all I know is that these men are hot and I love them.

Warnings: sex pollen, unprotected PIV (wrap it up), overstimulation, dubious consent (consent is sexy folks)

Banner credit: @cafekitsune

You all had been briefed at 0200. The flight to Berlin left at 0300 where the team would be infiltrating a terrorist hideout, a suspected manufacturing site for a new chemical agent. You were told that as long as you didn’t ingest it, you would be fine.

The fact that it had been made airborne was not in the fucking briefing.

The team had been split into pairs, you and he took the North side of the suspected warehouse. The size of it should have tipped you all off. Everything was running smoothly until 3 combatants had come from the door at the end of the corridor. He called for cover and ran ahead. You dropped two before he even got a stride in. The other he disarmed in seconds and then with a deafening crack, both men slammed through a door and into the resulting room. A brief struggle then silence. You heard him start to call the ok, his voice in the comm sounding clearer than earlier, then a noise, a pop, and the sound of air. You froze, watching a gas spill from the open door and dissipate immediately. Just when you started moving again, a growling, “Don’t,” tore through the comm. Then, the sound of ripping Velcro and something hard (his helmet you realized with a sickening drop) hitting the concrete floor echoed out to you. Soft murmurs that grew into angry outbursts of fuck fuck fuck transformed into one that became a groan of what sounded like complete and utter pain. You didn’t even have to think, the severity of the situation settled in. “It’s a gas,” you barked into the comms, “Northside hit, need medevac in 30, going dark.” You waited for confirmation, seconds after getting it and receiving news that the warehouse was almost cleared, you went to find him.

You knew what it did, you all did. Jokes had been made, smirks shared, but you all knew how bad it was. You weren’t even close to prepared. He was sitting against the far wall or rather pressed into it using it to keep his now shaking frame upright, gear strewn around the room, combatant on your immediate left with a mask (his mask, the masks you all were wearing just in fucking case) gripped in a dead hand, an empty canister mockingly sitting in the middle of the room. 

You gripped the combatant by his legs and dragged him to the hall, before slamming the door shut upon reentry and grabbing a near chair to jam the door. You immediately began stripping yourself of your outer tactical gear until you both matched in only your boots, pants, and base shirts and then you turned your attention to him. Now kneeling by his side you took him in, looking for any other injuries noting nothing serious. That almost made you laugh with relief until you saw the front of his pants and him frantically palming the growing outline. You swallowed and quickly looked at his face shocked back to the reality of the current situation. The usually stoic, always larger than life, incredibly strong man in front of you was reduced to tears dripping from his now blown and hazy eyes, falling down flushed cheeks and landing on the front of his shirt that clung to his hyperventilating chest. You knew he had been shot, stabbed often, and left for dead a time or two, but this…

Shiny and new neurotoxin, you remembered the brief, attacks the nervous system, causing the mark to feel intense arousal and as if they have been lit on fire, specially formulated not only to cause pain but a complete and utter breakdown of will as victims often experience hallucinations and loss of self. If left in the system, it raises the core temperature until convulsions set in, and then heart attack occurs. Do not touch it.

No one had to ask how it was worked out of the system. Then again, they all believed they were too smart to touch the shit. Couldn’t do much about breathing it in when your mask was ripped from your face though.

  Your hand pressed to his slick forehead now radiating heat, and feeling as if it could burn you like an open flame. At the touch of your blessedly cool hand, he hissed a low fuck through his gritted teeth, keening into your touch. You swallowed, hand tilting his cheek to look up at you when you asked, “Can I help?”  His hair was sticking up at all angles from the helmet being hastily pulled from his head, and he looked up at you and gave one weak nod, “Please.”

Upon looking at the desperation pooling in those dark eyes (those eyes you often were caught staring at) any small reservations evaporated from your body under his burning gaze. You swiftly reached out, mercifully helping him escape from the now too-tight pants, the bite of his zipper. The moment your skin brushed against the head of him he was bucking up against it. You had to reach the other hand out to steady yourself against his shoulder, another touch that jutted his hips and had him twitching into your grip.

“Is- is this helping?” you croaked out, struggling to swallow, struggling to contain the wave of arousal that was threatening to course through you. He nodded, chin slack against his chest as he watched your hand work against him, moving up and down against the veins seemingly trying to break through his skin. No thoughts went through his mind other than the knowledge that you were jerking him off and that it felt so good that he could cry in relief. But then something shuddered within him, something loud and fast like a wildfire, burning just as much, and hot thick ropes of cum spilled over your hand. He couldn’t even cry out, it happened so fast. His breath was coming out in loud pants, when a new thought, the thought that he had just come in maybe thirty seconds flashed through his mind but it was quickly replaced with the horrible realization that the feeling of being on fire wasn’t going away. It was getting worse, out of control, containment measures failed. At this, he let out a sob as his hips moved of their own volition into your still soothing grip. It wasn’t enough, he knew, you knew, it wasn’t enough.

 You stood, and he whimpered at the loss of your touch but all sound stopped in his throat when he watched you decisively unzip your pants and pull them down to your ankles underwear included, kicking off a boot, and one pant leg. When you straddled his lap he desperately pulled you down onto him, your exposed core grinding down where he wanted you, where he fucking needed you, that’s when he began to talk. Begging you to help him, saying that he’s sorry over and over, that he needs your help, incoherent babbling from a breaking mind, please it hurts so bad, I-I don’t, I can’t- fuck, I need you... All cool, calm, collectedness burnt to fucking ash. Just a man reduced to pure longing and want. A longing and want that might be what was threatening to kill him, not the toxin, just the build up over the days, weeks, months he had been around you threatening to crush him. He almost wants to die, this was never how it was supposed to be. He wanted it to be good for you, you deserve that, you deserve better, he could have given you better-

But now what was he? A heaving chest under a sweat soaked shirt beneath eyes that watch you like some feral animal. Hands wanting to claw at the clothing now so heavy, hot, and itchy against his burning skin, but instead were gripping onto your hips like it’s going to save him from burning to a crisp. The broken moans tearing their way from his throat when you line up his painfully hard cock to your entrance makes you throb, and then his choking cry as you slide down on him punches the air from your chest.

“Does this feel ok?” you panted out after a moment, struggling, trying not to drown in the pleasure of him stretching you, filling you. He couldn’t form the words, couldn’t even nod. His forehead falling to your shoulder in utter relief, mouth dropped open as he repeats your name over and over like an apology, a thanks, a goddamned prayer. How all he can do is sit there on the floor of some warehouse, back against a wall, the only thing resembling his usual strength is that ironclad hold he has on your hips as he helps you drag yourself up, then, accompanied by the tortuously obscene sounds of your wetness, back down. Brokenly pleading with you not to stop, don’t stop, fuck p-please don’t stop. You feel like molten heaven against his cock, your moans like angels (or devils, he’s too far gone to care at this point) singing through the blood rushing in his ears. One of your hands again steadies yourself on his shoulder, the other steadying him, an anchor point, with your achingly gentle hold on the nape of his damp neck (so gentle that it breaks his fucking heart, he wanted to give you more, you deserved more) as you ride him. Your hips rock once more, twice more, before his body seizes up with electricity that ricochets up his spinal cord and reverberates through his skull. His fingers dig into the soft skin of your hips, teeth grinding and eyes slamming shut, as he releases inside of you with a shattered cry. The sound of you gasping, now clutching, raking your fingers into him, has his hips continuing their rutting up into you, pushing his cum as deep as he can within your walls.

He stills for 10 seconds at most, panting breaths thunderous between you two, before pulling you into his chest, his hips slamming up into you, hard and hot as if he didn’t just fuck you until he could see every neuron firing behind his eyes. His hot open mouth finds your shocked one in a perfectly surprised “o,” more apologies pushing from his lungs and into yours between loud wet kisses as he listens (is blessed with thank you God) to you beginning to come apart. You couldn’t help it, as you ground down into his thrusts, even though you knew the threatening climax was going to be terrifying. Your breathing was ragged now as well, the air becoming harder and harder to drag into your lungs in between you cursing and moaning, and then- fucking hell- you’re at the precipice. Before you can even utter a syllable you are being flung over the edge. The pleasure rips through you, waves breaking against the rocky shore, with such intensity that it hurts, causing you to dig your nails into his skin, and bright spots to dance behind your closed eyes while the distant feeling of wetness registers from between you two. He explodes again with a gasp, feels you clench around him like a vice, his name, his real name, forcing its way from inside you and into his mouth with every pulse and it tastes so so good that he can’t stop, he never wants to stop, just filling you up until it drips from you, filling you with him because you’re his, his. Even when you both whimper and shudder with overstimulation, his arms shaking in their grip around you, he can only press his forehead to yours, rolling it desperately, as he begs for your forgiveness. I can’t stop, it won’t stop, I’ll make it good, please next time I’ll make it good.

“It is good,” you whisper to him with hitched breath from each thrust, trying to reassure him, “It’s ok, it’s ok.” You don’t know if he can hear you, his eyes are wild and don’t seem to even register that you are actually on top of him, that he’s inside of you, that he has made you yell out his name over and over and over. You don’t think he even knows what he is saying. Next time.

 His own voice comes to him from somewhere far away, through the flames licking at his mind, please- fuckin’ hell please, just a little more- I just need one more, I need you, please don’t stop, I don’t want to stop nearly unrecognizable as he comes inside you again and again and again.

It isn’t until the medevac came and he was sedated that what just happened began to sink in. For a week, a fucking week, he’s in critical condition. No one talks about it, at least not in the way you all did before this. You saved him, you’re told. You don’t want to think about it, if you think about it then you think about how good it felt, how fucked it is that it felt good, and how everything is gone. If you think about all he said, you’d overthink, give meaning where there was none. He probably won’t be able to look at you anymore. You went to see him that first day. You sat next to him for mere minutes before bolting, the fear of him waking up and looking at you with disgust, telling you to get out in that icy voice you knew so well, sent you running straight to the mats to train until you wanted to scream. That’s all you did now, and that was where you decided you would stay until you died. That is until someone came and found you, told you he was awake, and that he had asked for you. The whole walk to the infirmary had adrenaline coursing through you, you wanted to run, to fight, to freeze right there in the hall and never move another fucking muscle. The thought of losing him, him being there but not wanting to be near you anymore made you feel sick. It had been so long, so long of repressing those feelings that flared in your chest when he smiled at you during sparring, the feeling of him seated next to you on a flight, his eyes catching yours just so you could stay with him. Well, you thought with dripping ire, that had literally and figuratively been fucked now hadn’t it?  

You knocked, heard his gruff voice, and entered. You stopped dead in your tracks three steps into the room after mistakenly looking up and finding him staring at you from where he sat on the edge of the bed, already dressed, looking like he was about to head out on another call. You were desperately trying not to shake but your hands gave you away. You could take on a man twice your size without batting an eye but this?- you were terrified.

The moment you walked into the room, all his time that morning when he first woke thinking about what he would say to you, how he could face you, was knocked from his mind. You had saved his life. He never wanted that. He wanted to give it to you, it was yours after all. He didn’t know when it had become yours, every single part of him, but if he had to wager a guess it was the moment he found you in his life. And it might all be ruined.

The memories had started coming to him immediately after waking up, almost more clear and real now than in the moment.  It jolted him awake so hard that the attending ran into the room for fear that his hammering heart had in fact given out. Once his breathing had calmed a little, he tried to sift through the fog. His recall of the smell of you, the arousal dripping from between your legs, mixed with your sweat and the familiar scent of your grapefruit and ginger shampoo, nearly pulled a groan from his chest. The soft touch of your hands, cool and strong against the fire that spread through his blood, had brought him back. The feeling of you breaking, the soft whines, the way you said his name… the things he had said, he couldn’t just shut the fuck up could he?

He had to bring his hands up to cover his eyes, willing the images to go away, just for a moment, please, he just needed some time, if only he had time- next time. Next time, he had told you. A desperate promise, a reassurance, trying to tell you that it wasn’t just the chemical coursing through him, it wasn’t just his hijacked nervous system. Did she know? Did she understand? That’s when he asked for you, without thinking, just wanting to see you, to explain. He had never been good with words unless it was biting sarcasm across comms or coolly delivering ultimatums in an interrogation. Then he remembered, the thing that sent his heart barreling through his chest for the second time, the machine next to him screaming. It is good, you had said, it’s ok, it’s ok, you had whispered.  

He ripped the monitors off his chest, ignoring the doctor's protestations, found the clothes that had been brought in for him and got dressed. Now that you were standing here before him he was unsure. You looked scared, and he could count on one hand all the times he had seen you in such a state.

His staring was unnerving, more unnerving than if he had shouted, yelled, grabbed you, anything but this, this was fucking torture. You had to leave, just get off base, go somewhere, anywhere but here- the sudden sound of your name shook you from the reverie. The tone had your eyes finding his immediately.

He stayed seated, scared that if he stood, if he made his way to you, you would run, and you both knew that you were much quicker than him. If you ran, if you left, he would never catch up.  Only when his knuckles began to ache did he realize how tightly he was gripping the edge of the mattress in an effort to keep himself there. It was hard to look at you and not remember the way you had looked when you pressed your hand to his forehead, when you had thrown your head back in pleasure, when you had grabbed his face when he was too exhausted to continue but thankfully no longer felt like he was burning alive. It was hard to remember and not stride across the room and hold you. He took a breath and forced his shoulders to relax in a way that he had done so many times before.

“I-,” he started, his voice cutting through the room, his normal voice, the one you recognized as him and it set you slightly at ease from sheer familiarity, “I’m so sorry.” Now he had to turn his eyes downcast.

“What?” Your response, the shock in your voice, forced him to look at you again. Your hands itched at your sides, confusion rippling across your face.

His eyes narrowed, he knew you so well. Always blaming yourself. “I’m sorry,” he repeated, “I’m sorry that happened, I’m sorry you were put in that position,” the word choice made him nearly cringe. He continued, “I never-I didn’t want it to happen that way.”

Your brain jolted, standing there in shocked silence, his words thundering through your ears accompanied by the pleading of next time.

He pressed on, desperately trying, “I know you, you’re going to think this was your fault. It wasn’t. There was nothing either of us could do, thank you for your, uh, help. Just- fuck, please just say some-,”

Shock still swept through you, the words escaped your mouth before you could think, “Did you mean it?” You figured by the way he leaned back that he knew what you were talking about. Then he held out a hand, palm up, an offering. Before you knew it, you had crossed the room, putting your hand in his and letting it gently pull you between his legs. His giant frame meant even sitting on the gurney that his gaze was level with yours, and those eyes searched your own when one word sounded through the room.

“Yes.”

This word broke you. One fucking word, one word that answered every glance between you two, every smile shared, a word you brokenly whispered into the night when you had a hand between your legs thinking about him knowing you shouldn’t. You hadn’t cried all week, but now the giant tears rolling down your cheeks felt like a release. When his free hand, warm and rough, swiped them away you couldn’t help leaning into it, just as he had done. All tension, all fear, dissipated from the room. That hand continued to just below your ear, cupping your neck, and gently pulling you forward to press his head against yours, eyes shutting, just resting there against each other in the moment.

“What the fuck are we gonna do?” you sighed.

You could feel the smirk that you knew was slipping across his mouth.

“Well, I did say next time.”

This time when you rode him with the small bed creaking beneath the movements, he stopped you any time you tried to speed up (it was your turn to beg and plead), keeping you at a languid torturous pace. That way the bastard had all the time in the world to whisper into your mouth, letting you taste each word, all the things he would do to you next time and all the times after that.

Thank you so much for reading, please let me know what you think! :)

[princemick]

OKAY DONE

[newbiealliance]

im reading a fanfic from like 2008 and im like halfway thru it and one of the characters randomly began singing a linkin park song which i feel is a testament to how old this fic is

[josephquinnswhore]

disarmed - joel miller x female reader.

Summary: you’ve been travelling with Joel for months, harbouring feelings for one another. Tommy helps the two of them realise how they feel.

Word Count: 5.6k

Warnings: mutual pining, fluff, mentioned a few times that joel is still grieving Sarah, jealousy, possession, age gap. Joel is in his forties and reader mid-twenties. Post outbreak fic. Reader had some dirty thoughts about joel.

Note: I’ve been awol for three months. Hello friends!! @katiexpunk Part two > testament to you.

"Ain’t gonna give up on me are ya?"

Joel calls out, checking over his shoulder to see if you're still behind him. You two have been travelling for hours, with the crunch of your boots against the snow that began to fall on the previous evening—the first official day of winter. They needed to reach Jackson before a mound of snow covered the area, or otherwise they would never know how long they would be there in this endless stretch of open space. With the possibilities of being stuck in a snowstorm, it dawned on them; the pressure to get to their destination.

Joel's crooked, uneven, scowling facade did nothing to keep you out or to halt your innate desire to preserve yourself by desperately attempting to make a connection with him, but for some reason, you had managed to accomplish what no one else could.

Make him feel affection, which of course, came with the pure unbridled fear at the thought of something happening to you. A fear he had not felt since..

“Not long to go now,” he murmurs, trying not to think about his past, his voice softening as he waits for you to catch up, he can see you are making the effort to keep up, your legs picking up their stride in an attempt to match his pace. Even so, at this rate they wouldn’t make it to Jackson before nightfall.

The weary look you give does nothing to comfort him either, internally, he cant stop any thought about you, wanting to know what you were thinking, what you were feeling, other than the pure exhaustion he could feel radiating from your pained expression and lame movements.

They were nearly at Jackson, to Tommy, after months of travelling and struggling for food, fighting against raiders and infected, Joel had made it his personal mission to keep you safe, to get you to Jackson. They had to make it today, before the sun fell, they were struggling for rations, between them, they had a can of baked beans left, two decades old and barely edible, it's clear to Joel that you’re losing hope.

“I know, not long, right?” You manage to reply after a few moments of thinking to yourself. The two of you had been surviving on scraps for weeks, you couldn't remember what it was like to eat a proper meal. For your stomach not to grumble and ache in hunger.

“When we get to Jackson they’ll have a bed for us, a real bed, probably a proper shower too, an’ food. Somethin’ for us to look forward to.” He glances your way, attempting to lift your spirits.

A crack of a smile stretches your lips, thinking about hot water, a real warm meal. “I don't remember the last time I had a real shower.”

“You’ll be able to finally wash that grease out of your hair too,” he mutters under his breath with a cheeky grin. He could only wonder how bad the two of them must smell at this point. Hes probably grown accustomed to the smell of his own putrid stench. A mix of grease, gunpowder, blood, dirt and body odour. You never complained though.

“Like you can talk, the stench coming from you is foul, old man.” A playful jest comes from you, one that makes joel smile, before feigning offence, he brings his hand to his chest as he scoffs. “Like you're any better.”

His lips turn into a genuine smile as the two of them share a light hearted moment, something that feels like it had been weeks since had happened – he can't help but admit to himself that.. it feels nice. That he enjoys seeing this side of you, that he could be the one to make you happy.

The playful smile on your face slowly slips into the same tight line it had been for weeks on end. The monotonous expression Joel had become so accustomed to.

“Whats on your mind? Somethin’ botherin’ you?” Joel asked, sensing that something was off with you.

“Hm? Oh, no I'm good, just get stuck in my head sometimes I guess.” You manage to excuse yourself.

He knew very well what that was like, he himself spent a lot of time stuck in his head, they were more alike than he had anticipated. “That’s alright, I understand.” He reassures her.

You can't help the way you feel something for him, noting the way his hazel eyes always softened when he looked at you, his voice soft. But the constant fear nagged you, about the age gap, he was in his forties, and you only in your mid twenties. Did he see you as a kid? Did he see you as a woman?

Joel always tried to remind himself that you weren't a little girl, even with the evident age gap between the two, he still saw you as a capable, beautiful woman. He couldn't deny the way he felt when he was the one to make you laugh, those beautiful eyes of yours and how expressive they were. He couldn't deny he felt something for you, which puzzled him, it was a feeling he thought he would never experience.

The snow begins to fall heavier, and with how long they had to go to Jackson, Joel knew it would be best if they stopped for the night, to try and find some shelter for them, for her. As if an otherworldly god hears their thoughts, a small cabin comes into the near distance. You hope wordlessly that Joel would offer to stop for the evening. If not, begrudgingly for a few hours, at least.

He motions for you to follow him, in the direction of the cabin. “That looks like a safe place to camp for the night, whaddya think?” To Joel, this was an easy decision, he was tired of seeing you shiver when you camped outside, clutching to the sleeping bag for a sliver of warmth, the thin material never did much to sooth your chattering teeth. He doesn't want you sleeping outside ever again, if he had any say over the matter.

“You think it’s safe?” Your eyes scan the area, it looks abandoned.

Joel nods as he cracks open the door, scowling as the door creaks open loudly. He leads the way inside the empty cabin, he does a quick scan of the place before he steps inside, out of the snow. Its a fraction warmer inside, something you can appreciate as you close the door behind you.

“Stay close.” He whispers, keeping an eye out, the cabin was clear after searching for a few minutes, it’s a small area, a broken lounge in the same living space as the kitchen. The floorboards in the corner are starting to rot due to a leak in the roof, some of the snow falling through to the inside of the cabin. “Looks like we're all good in here, I’ll look around and see what I can find, we’ll sleep here for the evenin’.”

You shrug off the heavy pack that had been clinging in the same sore spot for hours on end, shoulders aching dully as you roll them, reaching your hands back to massage the sore spots. Your fingers are cold and stiff as you unclip your sleeping bag from your pack, setting it up in the small kitchen area, away from the corner that has a small leak in the roof.

“This place ain't so bad, better than most places we been sleepin’.” Before Joel can relax, he eyes a bookcase, it's large enough to cover the front door, with one push it topples over, with a grunt, the bookshelf falls securely over the front door, keeping them safe inside.

You look around a little in the kitchen, seeing some old trinkets covered in a thick layer of dust, a windchime, it creates a beautiful twinkle as your fingers caress the cold material, clanging against each other. Going through the draws, you have a look at a faded image, picking it up to inspect it, your heart drops, the image depicts a young family, two parents and a small baby, all smiling into the camera, in this very kitchen where you stood now.

You can’t help but wonder how long ago they resided here. If they were still alive.

“Must’ve been a family’s cabin…” His eyes glance at the photo as he leans down to rummage through the cupboards, finding a few cans of veggies that had been left behind, he sets it down on the bench next to you. “We made out pretty good on food this time. Are you hungry?”

Shakily, you return the photo back to where you found it. “Yeah, sure. Thanks.”

“You okay?” He asks, sensing the uneasiness in your voice. He grabs the tin cans of food and skillfully pops the lids open with his knife, handing a can of food to her. He nods towards their sleeping bags and they both sit down on the floor, he can't ignore the ache in his back and knees as he stretches his legs out on the floor. He tried not to think about it, sitting here with you on the hardwood floors eating out of a two decade old can of veggies was nothing worth complaining about, compared to the hell you two had endured over the months.

They were together at least. They made it this far.

“Yeah, I guess. Just doesn't get easier, you know? Thinking about it. They had a baby.” Hesitantly, you start eating with Joel, who seems silent.

He eventually nods in agreement. “Not everyone makes it.” He speaks quietly, even after all this time, he still mourns, he's been reminded of his loss time and time again, the image of the family was no exception.

They eat in silence, and you set the empty can beside your sleeping bag, sighing as you snuggle into the little warmth it provides. “Try and get some rest, we’ll head out at first light.”

“Goodnight Joel.”

He watches you settle, a small grunt escapes him as he keeps his rifle close, he leans against the wall. “Goodnight darlin’.”

“I'm sorry about your daughter Joel.” You whisper, before sparing him a glance and rolling over away from him. Joel watched you, the words pierce him, memories of his daughter haunt him, but he can't blame you. “Yeah, me too.” He mutters under his breath.

Joel stays awake, he's too restless to sleep at the thought of Sarah, losing her, relieving the pain and anguish of twenty years without her. Yet, the pain was as palpable as it was the night it happened.

The sun rises, and Joel rolls his sleeping bag, clipping it onto his pack. He notices you stirring awake. “Mornin’.” He grumbles tiredly. He stretches his neck, a loud crunch fills the air. “We should get goin’. I want to get to Jackson before midday.” He groaned as he stood, his knees clicking into place, worn and aching, the cold didn't help.

You wipe the sleep from your eye and pack the sleeping bag up quickly, not wanting to make Joel wait, he seemed pretty restless. Joel shoves the bookshelf off the door, opening it and takes a weary step outside into the daylight. He couldn't wait to see Tommy, he couldn't stop thinking about a shower, and a decent meal. They had been surviving in the wilderness for so long, Joel wasn't sure what he would do being back in civilization.

You pause in the doorway, watching Joel walk outside, his worn boots crunching in the fresh snow. “Just.. just wait a sec.” You wearily call out to him, looking back inside the cabin.

“What is it?” Joel asked, stopping in his tracks, turning to look back at you, a confused look on his face. You take a few quickened steps back into the cabin, pulling the drawer out to find the photograph of the family, before rushing outside to meet Joel. “Someone should remember them.”

Joel looks between you and the cabin, wondering what on earth you were doing. “Whaddya mean?” He asked, his voice gruff and full of confusion. He stands there for what felt like forever, watching as you return with the faded photograph in your hand. He stared at you for a moment, his expression unreadable.

You shove the photograph into the back pocket of your jeans. “Ready to go?”

Joel looks at you, a serious expression on his weathered face. “Yeah.” He motions for you to continue walking, he tries to push behind the thought of the family as they walk from the cabin. For some reason, there was a warmth in his chest, at your actions, something so miniscule could show the kind of person you were. Perhaps not all hope was lost with someone so compassionate like you left in the world.

It was relatively quiet between the two of you for the rest of the trip, only a few miles, the snowfall had come to a halt overnight, so the snow wasn't much of an obstacle, being so far away from any town, there were near to no infected, nor other people.

Finally, ahead, there it was. They had finally made it to Jackson, to Tommy.

“Shit. This is Jackson?” You ask in wonder, taking in the heavily fortified walls, the men patrolling on the walls with rifles. A haven.

“Sure as hell looks like it.” Joel felt himself finally relax, for the first time in months, even if only for a moment, they had made it. “C’mon, we can get inside before the snow starts comin’ down again.” He picks up his pace towards the gate.

“Are you sure they'll let us in?” You knew Tommy was here, but the anxiety of being turned away was palpable. Joel glances back, reassuring you with a small smile. “Dont worry darlin’, Tommy knows we’re comin’.”

The gates open, and the hinges whine in protest.

“Joel, you ugly bastard is it really you?” A southern voice calls out, as the gate opens, and you watch as a man embraces Joel, similar in looks, if anything, less grey hair. “The hell took you so long?” The man asked, a joyous tone in his voice as he embraced Joel.

“Yeah, were not easy but we made it.” Joel huffed out a laugh. Tommy waves his hand, a brief gesture for the pair to follow him inside. Tommy looks over Joel’s shoulder as they walk. “Who’s this?”

You stand behind Joel, a meek smile on your lips as you introduce yourself. Tommy smirks at Joel. Joel's face reddened, his younger brother’s stare made him heat up.

“Just get us set up Tommy.” Joel muttered, avoiding the amused gaze from his brother. Tommy’s wolfish grin doesn't slip. “Sure thing, follow me.”

The odd interaction does not go missed as you watch the pair, following them to a house that Tommy had organised specifically for Joel. Tommy lets them into the house to look around and Joel speaks up. “We've been out in the wild for a long while, and we're happy to finally be able to settle down for a bit.” Joel explains, looking at Tommy.

“I can imagine. Well, i'll leave ya alone to settle in for now. Were havin’ a get together later tonight at the hall, you should come. It’ll be good for you to spend some time away from each other for a bit.” Tommy jests.

You look between the two men, confused. “So where am I going to be staying?” You knew that Joel would probably want to be away from you, now that he had done his part in bringing you here safely.

Joel's head snapped in your direction and he stared at you for a moment. “With me.” He said, a little too quickly. “You'll be staying with me, here.” Joel’s eyes dart back to Tommy as if he was warning him against some smart arsed response. He looked a little embarrassed.

It didn't take an idiot to notice the glance you and Joel shared. Tommy smiled ear to ear as he watched the interaction between you two. “Alright.. Well you two can get settled here. Holler at me if you need anything, alright?”

As Joel nods, Tommy steps outside the house, leaving the pair alone again. Setting your pack down, you admire the house. “Nice place..”

Joel hums, nodding in agreement, setting his pack down next to your own. “Its alot nicer than where we've been campin’. And there's electricity.” Looking at the light Tommy had flickered on when he walked in.

“You mean we can shower?” Joel grins in amusement at your sudden excitement. “Hot water and all princess, why don't you go on and have the first shower?” The bathroom itself was simple, but it felt surreal to have electricity and running water.

“Are you sure?” Joel nods, “I can wait, its all yours.”

Joel closes the bathroom door behind you, and explores the bedroom, ruffling through the closet as he decides what to wear to this stupid get together tonight.

The hot water feels incredible, soothing the aches in your body, as you lather the vanilla scented soap, spreading the suds to wash the grime off your body. The colour of the water that runs down the drain is appalling, dark brown from grease and dirt. The shampoo is fruity, and a divine smelling scent you hadn't ever smelt in your lifetime. Lathering the clear concoction, you take your time to scrub the grease and disgusting things that stick to your strands of hair and scalp.

Its almost painful to shut the water off, but you know that Joel deserves to experience the hot water too, stepping out, you run your hand over the fogged up mirror, and hardly recognise yourself.

You slip on the clothes that had been provided for you, dark wash jeans and a long sleeved, tight fitting brown shirt. It accentuates your body shape wonderfully.

You look like a brand new woman as you emerge into the bedroom seeing Joel sitting on the edge of the bed. “Hey.”

Joel looks up at you, his eyes widening as he takes in your form. You were even more beautiful than before, you looked radiant. He quickly stood, clearing his throat and he tried to keep his composure. “Hey darlin’.” He manages to utter out, his voice a little low.

Your cheeks warm under his intense gaze, hazel eyes roaming your body. “You gonna have a shower before we go?”

Joel glances down at himself, he now looked completely filthy compared to her, realisation sinking in.

“Y-yeah I think I will.. I can wash up in a minute.” As he looks back up at you, he notices your lingering gaze on him.

Were you checking him out too?

The tension is broken as Joel walks to the bathroom, taking his turn for the shower. Your mind wonders as the water runs, wondering what Joel looks like under all those clothes, if the hairs on his chest travel all the way down his torso, wondering if his tanned skin is the same delicious colour all over. A soft groan echos through the bathroom, gartering your attention, ears perking at the wonderfully intimate noise.

Something inside of you tingles in excitement at the thought, it's a hard thought to squash as you put your boots on. Joel's hair was damp, slicked back, the greying strands on his temple looked lighter than ever. The green and red flannel shirt hugged his torso and arms snugly, the jeans looked a size too small, clinging to his thick muscular thighs. His hazel eyes stared down at you as you looked him over, admiring him, he cant quite read the expression on your face.

Now it was your turn to play it cool, clearing your throat. “Ready to go?” Joel was still trying to come out of his haze as he stared at you, still trying to process the way you were checking him out. “Y-yeah…” He muttered, rubbing his jaw. “Yeah, let's.. Let's go..”

The hall is set up nicely, small bulbs hang from the ceiling emit a full yellow hue, there's an old record player, with vinyls underneath the bench it’s set up on, the melody of an old song echos through the hall as they walk in together, they gain some looks, from people dancing, young and old. Joel is brought into another hug by Tommy as he greets them. “Hey, look at you!” Tommy grinned. “You clean up nice.”

You silently agree, Joel looked as handsome as ever.

Joel's face runs hot as he hears Tommy’s tease, turning a rosy pink across his cheeks. He quickly brushed it off, rubbing the back of his neck as he attempted to maintain his composure. “Shut it, Tommy…” Joel muttered. Tommy grinned as he watched his brother's reaction, his eyes then shifting to you. “And you… look beautiful tonight.”

Joel watches your reaction to his brother's compliment, seeing you squirm a little. “Thanks Tommy. So… what exactly is this?”

Tommys grin remained as he motioned for you both to follow. “It's a get together, we do them to blow off a little bit of steam every once in a while, you know how it is.” Joel grunts in annoyance, not enthralled by the idea of being social, nor in the judgemental gaze of the community folk.

Your eyes follow the couples as they dance to the music. A sense of yearning overcomes you, wishing it were you and Joel dancing so intimately. It's something Tommy notices.

“What, you want to dance, girl?” He asked, a mischievous grin on his lips. Joel's eyes widened as he tried to get his attention. “Tommy…” He muttered in warning, his voice a low grumble.

You didn't decline tommys suggestion. “You offerin’?” Perhaps, if anything, you would be lucky enough to make Joel jealous.

Tommy nods, taking you by the hand as he drags you to the makeshift dance floor, away from Joel. “Of course.”

Joel could feel the annoyance bubbling up inside him. He wouldn't admit that he was starting to become jealous at the sight of his brother dancing with you.

You and Tommy dance, occasionally sneaking glances at Joel, who still looked unimpressed by the situation. Tommy laughs whenever he sees Joel’s scowling face, enjoying winding his brother up. Tommy took his turn to tease you. “So… what's it like travelling with my grumpy ass brother?”

“He's not grumpy with me.” You answer simply. This, Tommy raises a brow at. “Oh really?” He glanced over her shoulder at his brother, who was now glowering at the pair. “Looks real grumpy to me..” He teased, letting out a small chuckle.

“Only cause you're pickin’ on him.” You counter.

“You're probably right.” It wasn't uncommon for Tommy to tease his older brother like this, the more he saw how annoyed Joel was becoming, the more he wanted to keep this up.

“I like him, alot.” You murmur between the two of you. Tommy’s teasing expression dies down, shifting to an expression of empathy. He was quiet in thought for a moment before he spoke. “I can tell…” he glances at joel. “He's got it bad for you too.”

“Thats a lie if I’ve ever heard it, Tommy Miller.” You scoff.

Tommy’s brows furrowed a little as he scoffs as your disbelief.”You can't seriously tell me you're that naive, it's obvious he likes you, girl.” Joel's gaze darkens, eyes fixated on them from across the hall.

“He doesn’t like me.”

“Have you seen the look on his face? He's got this…” Tommy gestured to his own face. “...stupid look on his face since we've been dancin’. And he's lookin’ like hes seconds away from murderin’ me.”

You shrug. “He's just protective of me.”

“And how do you two interact?” Tommy asked. “Like, he dont seem too fond of me touchin’ you.” Joel's eyes flicker down to the way his younger brother's hand held your waist.

“I’m guessin’ you got some kind of plan, then, to prove me wrong?”

Tommy’s face lit up when you say this. “What do you think, girl? Are you up for it?”

A groan leaves your lips. “What’re you thinkin’?”

Tommy smirks, gently and suddenly twirls you, bringing you flush to his chest, the action makes Joel scowl. “We’re gonna piss him off just enough for him to come over. Sound good?”

You don’t miss Joel's reaction, maybe it did mean something..

“Okay, let's see what you got.”

Tommy grins, he pulls you close to him, dipping his head down to your ear, whispering. “You tell me if he gets too annoyed for yer likin’... I don’t wanna cross no boundaries.”

Tommy is an impressive dancer, you admit, and as nice as it is to be spun around the dance floor, your mind wonders what it would be like to dance with Joel, how he would hold you, where he would place his hands, how firm his grip would be.

Tommy dips you, making sure to keep a tight grip around your waist, and his body as close to yours as he could manage without dropping you, Tommy leans in, his nose close to yours. “Bit dramatic don't you think?” You mutter, eyeing tommy. There was a chance Joel would kill Tommy for this, and Tommy leans in, as if he was intent on kissing you.

That was it for Joel, he reached his breaking point, watching as his younger brother's actions grew more bold and more suggestive. As soon as he saw how close you two were, how intimate that moment looked, he pushed his way through the dancefloor, barging people that were dancing to get to them. Tommy’s plan seemed to work, getting the reactive reaction out of Joel, your eyes widened as Tommy straightens you up, the older Miller brother approached them.

“Now you've done it.” You mumble.

“Oh no, what have I done?” Tommy teases. Before he could say anything else.. Joel yanks Tommy’s shoulder, separating him from you.

Joel lets out a low growl, pushing Tommy further away from you. “What’re you tryna pull, Tommy?”

“Whoa, whoa.” Tommy protests, shrugging his shoulder out of Joel's grasp. “I’m not pullin’ nothin’. I was dancin’ with the girl, is that a crime?” Joel grits his teeth together, trying to stop himself from punching his own brother.

“He wasn't doing anything Joel.” You murmur softly, trying to calm the man down, but it seems to only agitate Joel that you seemed to defend Tommy’s actions.

His nostrils flare as he looks at you. “You're takin’ his side then?”

“Hey, come on, it ain't like that.”

His irritation grows, did you really think this was okay? That this was just friendly dancing? “You really think he was just dancin’?” He mocked.

Your brows furrow as you sense Joel’s rising irritation towards you, this wasn’t how this was supposed to go. “Yes, that's exactly what I think.”

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, crossing his arms in front of his chest, this was not going the way he wanted. “He was all up on you and you think this is innocent? You’re more naive than I thought.” He sneers, a low grumble leaving his lips.

It hurts, hearing Joel talk to you like this, and you shove past them before he can see the tears welling in your eyes. Tommy stops Joel from chasing after you.

Joel lets out an annoyed huff, turning to look at him. “Get outta the way, Tommy.”

“She likes you, Joel.” Tommy said, his hand not leaving his older brother's chest, needing him to listen.

Joel rolls his eyes, not believing that statement for a moment. “No, she doesn’t. She was just humouring you.” He tries to push past Tommy again.

“It was my idea joel. I thought if I turned up the heat a little you'd show her you're sweet on her.”

“...what?” Joel's face flushed pink hearing that. “You.. you were just trying to…” When he realised that this little stunt was all an attempt to show that they liked each other, it surprised him, was it so obvious?

“You know I wouldn't dream of makin’ a move on yer girl. Go on now, get her and tell her how you feel before she runs off on ya.”

Joel stares at his brother for a moment as his words sank in. Once it did, he nodded, understanding now that this was an attempt to try and make Joel admit his feelings for you. He didn't say another word as he turned out of the hall, rushing back to the home where he knew you would be.

You felt humiliated by the entire thing, by Joel being angry at you, he had never looked at you with that look of unbridled anger. It was always directed towards other people, the ones that had tried to hurt you. Never you.

Joel’s footsteps are heavy, easily recognisable to you. As he makes his way to you, where you’re packing your things into your pack, tears streaming down your swollen cheeks.

He calls your name, and you don’t respond, shoving things angrily into your pack, you know he’s at the bedroom door, watching you.

His heart sinks as he watches you, he steps closer to you, reaching his hand out to touch your shoulder, in an attempt to stop you. “Stop.” He muttered softly. “Stop packin’ yer things.”

When you don’t listen, Joel takes the pack from your hand and tosses it across the room, your possessions all spilling out into the wooden floor. “What the hell is your problem?” You snap.

“Would you just stop it?” He exclaims, frustration evident in his tone. He grabs your arm, firmly enough to garner your attention. Spinning you to look at him. “Why are you doin’ this?”

“You humiliated me!” You quip, voice trembling.

He exhaled, the warmth of his breath fans on your cheeks. “Listen..” he muttered. “Whatever you thought happened, it was the complete opposite. Tommy told me the whole plan, he was.. tryin’ to make me admit somethin’ to myself.. to you.”

Your cheeks warm as you realise Tommy snitched. “..oh.”

His large hands reach out to cup your face, turning your face upright, so your gaze would meet his own. “I care about you a lot…” he spoke after a moment, his expression softening. “I know I’m not real good at showin’ it, but I really..”

“I really do like you, darlin’.”

You sputter a response. “Tommy.. was right?”

Joel nods, his expression growing bashful as he tries to hide his embarrassment with a small snort. “Yeah.. stupid bastard was right.” He runs a hand through his hair, trying not to stumble over his words. “Have done since I saved ya all them months ago.” He confessed.

His hand runs through his hair again, something you’ve picked up as an anxious tick of his. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

It was a question Joel hadn’t really thought of himself, until now. “It’s hard for me to be vulnerable..” he admits. “I’m just… not really like that.”

It certainly wasn’t the first time he had trouble opening up about his feelings, but he wanted you to understand that he wanted to try, with you.

“Especially with.. the way the world is now.. I thought I shouldn’t get myself tied up in somethin’ that could just get me hurt later.”

The words that went unspoken, you understood. He was afraid of losing you. And suddenly, her eyes softened. “What changed? Seein’ me with Tommy?”

It was an embarrassing truth, one that he had to face. “Yeah..” he agreed, glancing away from you a moment. “It felt like someone was just punchin’ me in the guts. Seein’ you dancin’ with him I felt..” he groans. “Jealous.”

Unintentionally, you bat your lashes at him. “I was so convinced you wouldn’t like me, I made such a fool of myself.”

His brows scrunch together as he realises how his actions made you feel. He gently takes your face in his large hands, his thumb rubs your cheek in a soothing motion.

“Hey, you didn’t do any of that…” he murmured. “If anything I shoulda told ya ages ago.”

With his reassurance, you wrap your arms around his midsection, fisting the soft material of his flannel on his back. He doesn’t resist, although he relaxes from his tense stance, bringing his own arms around you. “How about we start over an’ I’ll do this proper?”

Your eyes widen, looking up at him. “Proper?”

He couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto his lips, your words make his heart flutter. “Y’know.. with you as my girl…” he murmurs nervously. “If.. if you’d like that?”

“I would like that.” You accept without hesitation, your voice soft as Joel leans his chin on your head, his thumb caressing your cheek.

“Don’t ever try an’ run off again. I’ll hog tie ya to the bed if I have ta.” A soft laugh leaves your lips at his threat, and you raise a brow.

“That right? Maybe I’ll take off one day, just to test you.” Joel’s eyebrows raise, a daring look in his eyes, arms tightening around you as he lifts you off the ground effortlessly, tossing you onto the plush bed.

“Yer mine now sweetheart, ain’t letting you go, ever.” He murmurs against your neck, hovering over you, pressing a small kiss to the soft skin of your temple.

“Mine till the day I die.” He growled possessively, the tender touch was a concise movement, one that contradicted his possession.

Somehow, you had disarmed him. And from now on, Joel wasn’t going to fight it.