#i finally found one who would and he opened me up and said the infected tissue had spread so much farther than the scan showed

[deforest]

im so tired. im so so so so so so tired. i will never be at peace in fact

i just

i cannot believe this is legal for a medical professional to do to any human being. blown away that there is a not-insignificant number of ppl out there ready to die on the hill of telling us this ISNT elective mutilation

[mypoisonedvine]

𝘄𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗽𝗲𝗻𝘀 𝗶𝗻 𝗯𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗻 | joel miller x reader x emmett

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | the last thing you wanted to do was make emmett jealous, or question your loyalty to him; but as it turns out, he may be a little more supportive than you expected when he catches you looking at joel miller.

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁 | 7.1k

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 | smut - 18+ only (threesome, established relationship, sharing/hotwife kink, daddy kink, oral m and f receiving, anal and DP, creampie, light choking, overstimulation/multiple orgasms, some very gentle/mild degradation, tons and tons of praise), implied age gap (not specified, obviously reader is an adult), takes place in the last of us universe but pretty much porn without plot lol so don't overthink it

In the last year of traveling with Emmett, you’d mostly avoided the QZs.  He said that the people there were cheats and liars at best— and that’s to say nothing of the corrupt military leaders that actually ran the place.  However, desperation puts people into positions they never expected to be. 

After all, you would’ve never imagined being with a man like him, though in this case you meant it in a good way— that you never thought someone as brave and resourceful as him would want somebody like you.

But, that said, you made yourself useful when you could.  The best thing you could offer was your medical knowledge, and you were always the one tending to Emmett after injuries or illness.  Still, he promised that he loved you for who you were, not what you could do for him.  He was shockingly gentle, and passionate, especially for someone who had been forced to be rather ruthless to survive in this new world.

So, while you had been avoiding the quarantined areas and sticking to abandoned strips of forest and city, a lack of food out there forced you to venture to Boston— or, what was left of it.

Fortunately, you'd found more hospitality here than you expected.  Maybe it was just pity— and wanting some more of that ammo Emmett had sold him— but a man named Joel Miller had given you a place to stay and helped you earn some rations here so you could finally eat.  He reminded you of Emmett in some ways: stoic, hardworking, and generous beneath that hardened exterior.  But Emmett had become much more sensitive and open with you in your time together, and Joel was all but a stranger.  Sometimes he was so stern that he almost seemed irritated with you, but he kept letting you and Emmett stay, so he must not have been too annoyed by you.

And, you helped him how you could— like when he was in yours and Emmett’s room, sitting in the chair and talking to Emmett about something to do with tomorrow’s open jobs, and you noticed a cut across his palm.

“I-I can help with that,” you offered softly, motioning to the injury.  “Do you want me to bandage it for you?”

“It’s not that bad,” Joel shook his head.

“It’s easier to clean it now than worry about an infection later,” you reminded him.

Though he seemed a little tense, glancing at Emmett for a moment, he relented with a nod.  You smiled lightly as you stepped forward and knelt by Joel’s feet, picking up his hand and examining the cut.

Once you figured what it needed, you quickly hopped up to rifle through your bag, bringing back a disinfectant wipe and a roll of gauze.  Holding his hand open— and feeling a little flustered from touching his warm, rough skin— you carefully wiped up the cut.  “Does it hurt at all?” you asked him.

“Not too bad,” he replied lowly.

“You should see Emmett when I’ve gotta wrap him up,” you giggled, “he always acts like what I’m doing hurts more than when he actually got the injury in the first place.”

“Hey,” Emmett warned you in a stern voice, but you smiled up at Joel who returned with a small smirk.

“Alright, all better,” you hummed as you finished bandaging Joel.  “Let me know if it’s hurting you too much, that’s a bad sign.  Don’t just ignore it and act tough, okay?”

Joel seemed a little uncomfortable— if not sort of amused by— taking orders from you, but he nodded.  “I’ll let y’all get to bed now,” he decided as he stood up.  “Sleep well.  Lot of work to be done in the morning.”

“G’night,” Emmett offered him with a nod.

You felt a little strange, him standing up fully while you were still on your knees on the floor.  “Goodnight, Joel,” you said, your voice sounding sweeter and girlier than you intended.  Your face felt warm— you worried Emmett had noticed the change in your voice, too, but would he think much of it if he had?  

Thankfully, he didn’t say anything about it that night, simply pulling you close when you got into bed, burying his face in your neck.

But the next night, that was a different story.  You weren’t actually going to sleep yet, even though it was late enough for it— he’d already changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants, while you were still in your dress, but he’d laid back on top of the sheets and patted the bed, silently asking you to join him.  You smiled and obeyed, of course, leaving the lamp on as you slipped in by his side.

Emmett held you gently, rubbing your back as you laid your head on his chest.  “You’re not too tired, are you?” he asked quietly.

For what? you wondered, but just shook your head instead.

“We can stay up a little longer,” he decided.  “Didn’t get a chance to hold you all day.”

“Yeah,” you sighed wistfully, nuzzling in more as you squeezed his torso a bit.

“Or talk to you much,” he continued.

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?” you asked, looking up at him from your head’s happy place on his shoulder.

“Just something I noticed,” Emmett replied, looking back at you sweetly as he brushed your hair aside with his fingers.  "I think you've got a crush on Joel."

You froze, face getting warm in an instant.  "I-I only want you, Emmett, I swear— you know I would never—"

"Shh, shh," he soothed as he chuckled a little, "it's okay, baby.  I'm not angry with you… you're not doin' anything wrong."

"Really?" you asked nervously, and he nodded.  "I thought you might be jealous…"

He shook his head and laughed a little.

"I-I just think he's handsome," you explained, "and sort of nice— but that's really it!"

"It's alright, baby," he purred, "cause you know something?  I was talking to him earlier today, and he wants you too."

Your sat up and your eyes went wide as you tried to imagine that conversation.  You could hardly believe that that was true, let alone that Joel has admitted it to Emmett… or had Joel approached Emmett about it, asking for a night with you?  Oh god, your head already hurt trying to wrap itself around this…

"I know how hard it is to keep a naughty little thing like you satisfied," Emmett explained with a smirk, sitting up with you and speaking softly beside your ear.  “I'm willing to bring in a little… outside help."

Just then, the door opened slowly and Joel stepped inside.  You watched him, totally unsure how to feel, as he shut the door behind himself, and then his eyes met yours.

"C'mere," Emmett offered to Joel, patting the bed beside you two.  "No need to be shy, Miller."

You watched as Joel took a seat on the bed, and you looked at Emmett as you lowered your voice.  "You don't have to do this for me," you promised him softly.  "You know I love you— I only need you—"

"It's okay," he soothed as he pet your face.  "I told you, I'm not angry.  I want you to do this."

"You… want me to?"

"If you want it," Emmett replied.

You shivered as Joel leaned forward a bit, reaching out to gently rub up and down your leg.  "What do you think, princess?" he asked softly.  "Don't worry, you're not gonna hurt my feelings if you say you don't wanna—"

"I want to," you admitted quickly, afraid to lose your courage if you waited any longer to say it.

Both men smiled at you as you looked back and forth between them; Joel's warm brown eyes against Emmett's steely blue ones… they were so similar, and so opposite, in so many impossible ways.

Without saying anything, Joel suddenly lifted your chin and guided you into a kiss.

You felt strange kissing someone other than Emmett, something you hadn't done in quite some time.  Joel's lips weren't as soft as Emmett's, and his kiss wasn't as gentle; he moved his hand to the back of your neck to hold you close, gently pressing his tongue into your mouth.  It wasn't too aggressive or anything, but it was certainly quite forward.  Emmett's hands were still on you, gently rubbing your back, and you reached back to find and hold one just as your other arm wrapped around Joel's broad shoulders.

Joel made you gasp by breaking away to kiss at your neck instead; you squeezed Emmett's hand slightly.  "Fuck, she sounds so pretty," Joel noticed when you moaned at his teeth teasing your pulse.

"Yeah," Emmett agreed.  "She can get loud, too, so let's just hope she doesn't wake anybody up…"

Joel pulled your hand away from Emmett's and guided it to the bulge in his jeans; you sighed as you felt it, a hot feeling stirring in your chest.  "See how you got me all worked up already?" he scolded you playfully.  "C'mon and take it out for me."

Your hands were shaking more than you realized when you brought them to unfasten his belt… it felt new, and exhilarating, and a little scary as well, to be with someone new after so long.  But you remembered when it was new with Emmett and it felt like this, exciting and weird and wonderful all at the same time.  But you'd known Emmett longer before anything happened between you— you'd only met Joel a few days ago.

Joel exhaled sharply through his nose when you reached into his boxers and wrapped your fingers around his erection.  It was so hot to the touch, you were worried your fingers felt cold to him, but he didn't seem to mind much.  You shuddered as you released it from the fabric, your mouth falling slack and your hand instinctively beginning to stroke it gently.

Joel's cock wasn't as long as Emmett's, but it was thicker, with a slight curve to one side.  Regardless of exactly what it looked like, you were just amazed to see and stroke another cock but Emmett's— it had been so long, and you hadn't been with all too many people before Emmett anyways.

"Show him what you can do, baby," Emmett encouraged in a low voice, and you nodded as you leaned down to capture Joel's cock between your lips. 

He hummed as you licked and sucked the tip, swirling your tongue over the head.  But he groaned aloud when you dipped lower and took as much as you could into your mouth, letting the tip of his cock bump into the back of your throat.

Then you set your pace, hollowing your cheeks and slowly moving up and down on his length.  Your jaw ached slightly already and you'd only just started.

You felt Joel's hand on the back of your head, not pushing you down but just guiding you in your movements.

"Mm," Joel praised with a grunt.  "Your girl's got a sweet fuckin' mouth, Emmett…"

"Yeah," he agreed, "and she loves using it— gets her so wet, feel it."

You whimpered slightly as Joel reached back over you and pulled up your dress, slipping a hand inside your panties.  His fingers curled through your lips, even toying with your swollen clit for a moment, and you moaned around the thick cock in your mouth.

"Damn," Joel chuckled, "she's soaked."

You broke away from Joel and turned around, looking at Emmett expectantly as you sat on the bed.  "Can I suck you too?  Please?"

Joel chuckled a little as Emmett nodded, letting you pull his pajama pants down as his hard cock bounced free.  It was nice to get back to what you knew for a moment, and you didn't hesitate at all to take hold of him and lick a long stripe up his shaft.

Joel took the opportunity while you were facing away from him to toss up your dress and pull your panties down; he purred at the way the fabric stuck to your pussy, peeling off slowly with all the wetness there.  "Fuckin' gorgeous," Joel groaned as he got a good look at it.  

Two thick fingers rubbed over your clit until your toes curled; putting your head down in Emmett's lap to suck him sort of forced your hips up, nearly at eye-level with Joel, and feeling him explore you so gently made you feel exposed in the best way.

He slid one finger into your hole, just one, and you clenched down on him.  "Damn," Joel groaned.  "I don't know how you find the energy to do anything but fill this pretty little pussy of hers, Emmett."

But Emmett wasn't really paying attention to him— he was watching you with heavy eyes and a slack mouth, petting your hair as you bobbed your head on his cock.

"Just like that," Emmett praised you quietly.  When you moaned around him in response, it turned into a muffled cry as Joel suddenly took his finger out of you and replaced it with his tongue.  His hands held your ass and kept you spread wide for him, burying his face in your pussy and tasting everything his tongue could reach… which was a lot.  Your whole body quivered when he licked a long stripe up from the base of your clit all the way up, higher and higher, even running over that hole as you shuddered.  

Your moans vibrated through Emmett's cock and his hand in your hair tightened into a fist and tugged on you a bit.  "Fuck," Joel moaned against your soaking folds, "tastes even better than it looks."

"Feels even better than it tastes," Emmett promised with a smile, though he snarled as he pulled your head off of him by your hair and guided you into a rough, dominating kiss.  He all but threw you back towards Joel, and you were sort of dazed and moving on instinct as Joel turned you around to face him.

But as you leaned down to suck Joel's cock again, he stopped you with a hand around your neck.  "Taste yourself first," he ordered before he kissed you, diving his tongue right into your open mouth as you whined at the tangy flavor of your arousal coating his lips.  

He pulled you back from the kiss with a growl, holding your hair and examining your face— you must have looked fucked out already, panting through your mouth and looking at him as you waited for your next instruction.

“Was she always this desperate?” Joel asked Emmett, though he was still looking at you. “Or did you train her?”

“A little of column A, a little of column B,” Emmett replied with a light chuckle.

He shoved your head back down into his lap, guiding his cock to your waiting lips and groaning when you swallowed it down.  “Good fucking girl,” he praised.  “So fuckin’ dirty— damn, that tongue…”

You gagged harder on Joel’s cock when you felt Emmett toying with your clit, teasing you with slow and delicate circles that made your toes curl.  “Wanna fuck her?” Emmett asked Joel simply; your hole pulsed in anticipation.  The way they talked over you, like you weren’t even there, was sort of irritating: but it made you so desperate, and you couldn’t even figure out why.

Joel just laughed.  “Are you kidding?” he wondered.

It was Emmett’s hand that pulled you off of Joel’s cock, but Joel grabbed your neck— not too tightly, just enough to make you let a whimper out of your open mouth— and flared his nostrils as he stared closely at your face.

“Get on your hands and knees for me,” he ordered firmly, and you nodded right away.  They both let you go and you took the position, feeling a little shy again suddenly— like you had any right to be shy now.  You faced Emmett, your hands on either side of his lap as he sat up on the bed, and he reached up to hold your face as you heard Joel get up and kneel behind you.

He teased you by running the head through your folds a few times, your lip catching between your teeth as the tip bumped against your swollen clit.  Emmett studied your face closely, watching your mouth go slack and your brows knit together as Joel pushed just barely inside you.

And then you cried out, far too loud, because he shoved the rest of the way in at once.  "Shit," Joel hissed, "fuckin' tight little thing.  Fuck."

You could feel his gaze on your hole, no doubt watching himself split you open so wide, when his hands spread your ass open again for a better view.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy,” Joel awarded it with a sigh.  “Fuck, feel how good you fuckin’ take that?  Feel how easy this big cock slides right into ya?  Such a sweet little girl…”

Easy was one way to describe it— and yes, you were wet enough that he hardly had any resistance— but it felt like too much to really be easy.  You fluttered your eyes open, not even noticing that you’d shut them, and found Emmett’s gaze still on you.  How was it possible that he was looking at you with so much pride in his eyes?  You bit your lip and returned his stare, whimpering each time Joel thrusted roughly into you.  

"How's it feel, baby?" Emmett asked you as he gently stroked your cheek.

You choked a little, not sure you could find the words for it.  "Different," you managed to blurt out, and both men chuckled a little.

"Yeah, bet it is different," Joel agreed, "don't think I'm gonna be as sweet with'ya as your old man here usually is."

Well, fair enough: Joel wasn't in love with you, so why should he treat you the same?  Actually, your thighs shook a little as you thought about that… Joel just wanted to use you, fuck you like a toy and toss you back to Emmett when he was done.  It should've been demeaning, but it made your back arch a little deeper.

"Yeah, fuck," Joel praised, "she likes that.  Wants me to fuck her harder, I can tell."

“Then do it,” Emmett instructed him.

Joel gripped your hips tightly and slammed into you, making you choke on your own cry.  “F-fuck—” you stammered, suddenly gripping Emmett’s shoulders for stability.

“God,” Joel choked behind you; you could feel the bandage you’d given him as his hands held onto your hips, keeping you steady so he could pump into you as hard and fast as he liked.

You whined and dropped your head on Emmett’s shoulder, hearing him gently soothe you as each thrust rocked you forward into him.  “Takin’ it so well,” he praised softly, “that’s my girl…”

Emmett started to push your dress down your arms and chest, exposing your tits for his big hands to rub slowly; Joel reached around and felt them too— and four hands on you felt like more than you could keep track of.  A hand running up your thighs, squeezing your ass, teasing your tits, even wrapping around your throat and threatening to tighten… you were overwhelmed, in the best way.

"God, she's so perfect," Joel breathed.  "Can't believe you let me borrow her."

"Just don't come inside her," Emmett instructed, "that's just for me."

"Fuck, I don't mind," Joel grunted, "think I'll like painting that pretty face…"

“She swallows, too,” Emmett smiled, “if you like that.”

“Like it?  Fuck,” Joel laughed, “that’s fucking hot.”

“E-Emmett,” you whimpered in protest, “I never… I’ve never done that for anybody but you…”

“Well, it’s not so different for anybody else,” Emmett assured you with a chuckle.  “You’ll swallow his come if I tell you to, won’tcha?”

You bit your lip and nodded.

“Good girl.”

That was all you really wanted— to be good for him.  And you felt your chest fill with pride knowing he was happy with you now, even if you’d never expected this to make him happy.  He could be very protective of you, and you assumed he would never want another man to lay a hand on you— he’d killed men for less, actually.  But you realized that there was a massive difference: those men had threatened to hurt you, had scared you, had tried to take you from him.  Joel was the first man other than Emmett that you’d trusted, let alone shown any interest in.  Emmett was too busy fighting off creeps to mention that he didn’t actually mind good guys getting a chance with you, apparently.

Joel kneaded a handful of your ass roughly, and you whimpered when you felt one of his fingertips start to rub gently against your other hole.  “What about this hole?” he asked with a groan.  “This just for you, too?”

Emmett grinned a bit.  “She’s only done that a few times… what do you think, baby, wanna let Joel try your ass?”

It was already quite an ordeal to get Emmett to fit in there, and you whined just imagining Joel trying to fit that thick cock in your ass— “Oh my god, she just got so fucking wet,” Joel noticed.  Clearly, imagining it was having some effect on you.  “Think she wants it— don’t ya, sweet girl?”

Though your cheeks burned with shame, you nodded, and both men chuckled darkly.  “Warm her up first,” Emmett suggested.

“Of course,” Joel agreed, “wouldn’t wanna break your toy.”

You moaned just from him saying that, before he’d even started to gently press his finger inside you.  He spit right down onto it as he slid the digit inside, making you clench around him— both ways.  He hummed lowly, twisting and curling the finger into you, still fucking your pussy (though slower than before, thank god).

You gasped as a second finger carefully slid in, almost pushing you too far and making you wince slightly— but Emmett soothed you and kissed the side of your face, rubbing your back to help keep you relaxed.  “You can take it,” Emmett promised, “be my good girl, okay?  Let him get you ready.”

You nodded and clung tighter to Emmett, moaning when Joel twisted his fingers around and even curled them a bit inside you.  “Not too much, is it?” Joel wondered when you whined loudly.

“No, she’s tougher than she looks,” Emmett answered— you sort of thought that question was for you, but you were too desperate to answer properly anyways.

Joel could pump those fingers in and out of you now, picking up the pace slightly to match the way he thrust his cock into your cunt, but when he tried to spread them a little wider he didn’t have much luck.  “Still too tight, I think,” Joel noticed with a laugh.  “Y’sure she can get stretched out enough for it?”

“Yeah,” Emmett promised, “I can help, hold on—”

He brought two fingers to your open mouth; you sucked on them instinctively, shutting your eyes and moving your head forward to swallow them as deep as you could.  What Joel said before suddenly made sense— he really did have you trained.

You bobbed and suckled on Emmett’s long fingers, hearing him whisper his praises to you before he suddenly pulled them out— your open mouth chased after them for a second, and Joel seemed to notice with a small, condescending laugh— and reached over your back, pushing the slick fingers into your hole right beside Joel’s.

“Fuck!” you yelped at the feeling, legs shaking as you realized you’d never been this full: a cock and four fingers, it was more than you’d ever imagined.

Joel groaned a little, picking up the pace of his thrusts into your pussy again, and you did your best to breathe steady as those fingers pumped in and out of you.  You couldn’t deny the way it turned you on— none of you could, you could hear it as Joel fucked you slowly.  “She’s fuckin’ dripping, Emmett,” Joel noticed with a sigh, “she really likes this little ass played with, huh?”

Emmett laughed and nodded in agreement.  “She likes doing what she’s told,” he clarified.

“Such a good little slut,” Joel praised, and you whimpered before Emmett kissed you again.

They continued that way until you worried you’d start begging for a cock in your ass if they made you wait anymore— thankfully, they didn’t make you embarrass yourself like that, Emmett felt with his fingers and saw in your eyes that you were ready.  Pulling his fingers out of you, he glanced at Joel behind you: “Go ahead,” he offered simply.

Joel’s fingers left your ass, too, and you felt empty there but different— when his cock slipped from your cunt, you gasped a little at having nothing inside you for the first time in a while, and you glanced back at him.  “Yeah,” Joel encouraged, “keep lookin’ back at me while I put my cock in your ass.”

You felt a little awkward doing that, but you did it anyways, biting your lip as he met your gaze and lined up his thick head with your stretched ass.  He was still soaked from being in your pussy, and your ass was pretty much dripping with spit now, so he didn’t have too much trouble pushing into your puckered hole— but it was still tight, and you still winced (but kept your eyes on him, of course).

Even with all that prep, you shuddered and whined as Joel slowly slid into your ass— he savored every inch, licking his lips and groaning as he stretched you wider and wider.  He seemed to just get thicker, even at the very base of him, and your eyes rolled back when he was seated in you all the way.  And then he punched his hips just that little bit more, apparently intent on burying himself in you as far as humanly possible; you gasped and hugged Emmett tighter, turning your head towards him again but shutting your eyes tight from the sting of the stretch.  

“God fucking damn,” Joel moaned, digging his fingers into the skin of your hips, clearly trying to control himself.  “Fuck, Emmett, you’ve really got yourself such a perfect little fucktoy— where’d you find her?”

Emmett smiled wide, stroking your hair and looking at your face— painted with filthy pleasure— tenderly.  “She found me,” he answered.  “Still got no fuckin’ idea how I got so lucky.”

Joel started to move, making you tighten your hands into weak fists, and set a careful pace that gave you some time to adjust… even if not quite as much as you would’ve wanted.

A sudden, sharp thrust nearly knocked you forward— thankfully Emmett was there to catch you— and you moaned loudly.  Emmett laid down slightly, letting you lay on top of him and hide your face in his chest.  “That’s my girl,” he praised quietly.

As Joel’s movements sped up a little more, he sighed, seeming to find a comfortable pace (for him, at least) as you forced yourself not to tense up: it didn’t hurt, but it was certainly an intense feeling, especially when you felt Joel’s heavy balls slap against your dripping pussy.

"This'll be better than coming on your face," Joel grinned.  "Filling up this tight ass, fuck, you're so dirty, baby…"

You felt someone move your hips down a bit, changing the angle of it all, but you were too lost in it to even know who it was.  Emmett kissed your neck, teeth teasing your pulse, and you whined— you would beg him to bite you and leave a mark that everyone could see, if you could speak at all right now.

Your legs ended up straddling Emmett’s lap, and you gasped when you felt his cock press against your pussy— you'd been too distracted to even notice him taking it out— and he cooed at you sweetly.  "You can take both, right?" he asked quietly.  "You've always got room for me, don't you?"

Though you were still intimidated by the idea, you nodded as you bit your lip.

"That's my girl," Emmett praised, grabbing your hips and pulling you down onto his cock.

You almost screamed at the feeling of being so full, digging your fingers into Emmett’s shoulders.  He looked up at you with eager eyes, watching you struggle to take them both— but you eventually relaxed enough to sink down and fit them both to the hilt.

“Good fucking girl,” Joel praised with a groan, holding on tight to your hips as he started to move again slowly— as for Emmett, his hands moved from your waist to your head to guide you into a sloppy, needy kiss.

Your moans were loud yet weak, your shaky hands clutching at Emmett desperately as they both pumped into you.  Joel seemed almost overwhelmed by it, too, leaning down over you, growling and biting at your neck and shoulder. 

“F-fuck, dunno how long I can last like this,” Joel admitted, “so fucking tight…”

You jumped slightly when one of Joel's rough hands reached around your hips and slid down to your clit, rubbing at the bud until you jerked back from the sudden intense sensation.

"Just wanna feel you come first, princess," he explained with a purr.

“A-ah, fuck,” you whimpered, shaking all over as you tried to process all that you were feeling.  They moved you around how they wanted you, and at some point Emmett was sitting up and holding you in his lap while Joel kept thrusting into your ass from behind while holding your shoulder— how were you supposed to keep track of all the anatomy of this, while you had two big cocks stretching you open and Joel’s rough, experienced fingers on your clit.

Emmett moaned against your skin as he kept sucking on your neck, meanwhile Joel was speaking gruffly by your ear, sending chills up your spine.  “Can you come, princess?” he asked darkly.  “‘Round both our cocks?”

“Yes,” you admitted in a gasp, “fuck— Emmett, can I come?”

He smiled against your neck; “Of course, babydoll,” he breathed.  “Let’s show Joel how much you love bein’ fucked like a whore.”

You wrapped your arms around Emmett’s neck, dropping your head limply back on Joel’s shoulder as the feeling washed over you: you tightened up everywhere, inside and out, and they both groaned as they watched you give in to ecstasy.  You weren’t even sure whose hands were where anymore, but they were everywhere, and even through your exhaustion you felt desperation guide your hips to move on their own— chasing an even higher pleasure.

“Fuck,” Joel grunted as he watched you go, his own thrusts getting faster and rougher.  “Fuck, that’s so cute.”

You didn’t expect him to describe you like that in a time like this, and you whimpered as your walls flexed again.  You could tell Joel was getting a little desperate himself, that bandaged hand giving your clit a break and holding your hip tightly instead.  “Come in her ass, Joel,” Emmett ordered with a sigh, staring at your face with heavy eyes, “she’s ready.”

He did it pretty much instantly, groaning lowly and tossing his head back with a sharp breath in through his teeth; you felt him flexing, and it stretched your tighter hole even just that much more.  You whined softly at the feeling, hearing distantly little praises from Emmett, and finally Joel finished and pulled out of you with a little hiss.

It was less of a relief than you expected— your ass was still stretched and sore, and Emmett was still so deep inside you… and then, a moment later, you felt that hot trickle out of your used hole.  You felt filthy with Joel’s come running out of you like that, tickling your inner thigh as it dribbled down— but the way Emmett was looking at you seemed to remove any sense of shame you had left.

"God, look how beautiful you are," Emmett grunted as he guided you to move faster in his lap, "men just can't help it with you, can they?  Bet every guy in this town wants you, bet they're all thinking about having you to themselves— but you're mine, huh?  My girl?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "yes, I'm yours— all yours, Emmett, always—"

"Gonna show Joel whose girl you are," Emmett promised with a growl.  "Gonna get this pussy nice and full how you like it."

"Yes," you said again, a needy groan this time— the tip of his cock was hitting so deep inside you that you could hardly breathe, yet you only wanted more.  "Yes, please, please— come in me, daddy."

"Damn," Joel laughed, "she is dirty."

Emmett grinned.  "Only gets that way when she's real desperate.  Needs her daddy's come so bad…"

“Please,” you begged shakily, feeling him pull you closer and start to buck his hips up into you faster; he was breathing roughly, quickly, and you knew that he was getting close, but he had a habit of holding back until he absolutely couldn’t take it anymore just so he could watch you like this for as long as possible.  

Apparently unsatisfied with the speed and control he could reach with you on top of him, Emmett pushed you back down onto the bed, holding your legs and fucking you hard and fast— you cried out, arching your back as his hands slid up to hold your waist.

You gasped loudly when Joel unexpectedly leaned down and sucked on one of your tits; your back arched even further towards it, and you heard him moan against your skin as his tongue circled the hardened bud.  Emmett's mouth suddenly found the other one, without his pace slowing down at all, and you could've screamed right then.  You hadn't realized how sensitive they would be, and never in your life had you had both sucked on at once— it was so overwhelming, it was making jolts of white hot pleasure burst inside you, and fuck Emmett’s cock was filling you just right, hitting that perfect spot—

"I'm coming," you sobbed, "f-fuck, daddy, I'm coming—"

Emmett groaned loudly, his mouth falling slack around your breast as hot breaths fanned your skin.  You felt him starting to flex inside you, and you moaned louder knowing he was filling you so deep.  His grunts were in time with his deep, hard thrusts into you, and you went numb and tingly all over as the orgasm seemed to drain everything out of you.

Finally, he slowed to a stop, moving up to kiss you slow and sweet— both of you breathing heavily against each other, your shaky fingers reaching up to hold his face and run through his hair.

He broke away and sat up with a sigh; you wanted to kiss him longer, but you were too exhausted to even complain, simply relaxing against the bed and almost wincing when he pulled out of your sore cunt.

Emmett sat back and tugged your limp form up a bit, cradling you as he held your back to his chest.  “Oh, look at that,” he whispered just beside your ear, reaching down to rub your thigh, “all’a my come running out of you… both holes nice and full just how you need… so fuckin’ pretty, baby, my pretty little girl…”

You just whimpered sleepily, soaking in the warmth of Emmett’s embrace.

"Why don't you taste her now, Joel?" Emmett suddenly offered him with a smirk.  

Before you could process that idea, Emmett was holding your legs open while Joel dived down between them.  You whimpered as Joel licked up through your folds, your whole body getting hot at the thought of Joel tasting you and Emmett.  He really didn't mind doing that with another man's come?  The idea that he might just be that insatiable for you…

He suddenly latched on to your clit and sucked hard, making you yelp and buck your hips— but Joel and Emmett were both holding onto you tight, keeping you steady as your body shook uncontrollably.

"Oh, that's it's," Emmett praised, "let him taste you, baby— let Joel lick that pretty pussy, okay?"

"F-fuck— s'really sensitive—" you choked out.

Emmett held you tighter, both hands groping your breasts and his fingertips gently toying with your nipples.  “Bein’ so good for me,” he praised in a low, rough voice.  “So fuckin’ pretty when you’re getting your pussy ate, babydoll— never get to appreciate it ‘cause I’m too busy doin’ it.  But you look so fuckin’ cute like this…”

Your back arched, pushing your shoulders against Emmett's chest as he held you, and he trailed gentle kisses along your shoulder and up your neck. 

"Gonna come, huh?" he noticed, pinching your nipples harder until you whined.  "It's okay, baby, let Joel make you come.  Just one more and you can rest…"

“C-can’t,” you choked, “can’t come anymore—”

“Shh, you can,” Emmett promised.  “You can show Joel how good you are for me, huh?  You can come when I tell you to.”

“Fuck,” you sobbed, grabbing onto Emmett’s hand tightly— though your other hand gripped a handful of Joel’s salt-and-pepper hair, making him look up at you with those dark brown eyes…

“Mhm, you can do it,” Emmett continued, squeezing your hand in encouragement.  “Put your tongue inside her, Joel.”

You shuddered and quaked when Joel obeyed, the most filthy sounds filling the room while Joel lapped and sucked at your leaking pussy.  Emmett’s hand— the one you weren’t holding onto for dear life— groped your tits roughly, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you buck your hips against Joel’s face, but Joel still had that iron-tight grip on your hips to keep you where he needed you.

Joel was moaning lowly against your skin, focusing his tongue attention back on your clit— from teasing little circles around it to hard, rough licks right over it.  This time, when he went back to sucking on the nub harder than ever, you knew you couldn’t hold it back anymore.  “Fuck, Joel!” you screamed, making him groan darkly again.  “I’m gonna come!”

Emmett dragged his teeth over the shell of your ear, laughing softly yet wickedly.  “You’re sayin’ his name now?” he noticed.  “You’re not coming for him, baby, you’re coming for me.  Because I told you to.  Yes?”

“Yes, yes,” you promised, chanting it mindlessly.  “Yours, Emmett— fuck, I’m yours, you know I am.  Only yours.”

His hand moved from your breast to your face, turning it far enough to look at him— those eyes were boring into you, and you whimpered with your lip between your teeth as you hoped you hadn’t disappointed him.  “Say it again,” he demanded.

“Yours,” you repeated as you looked into his eyes— even though your imminent orgasm made it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.  “I’m yours, daddy.”

He grabbed your jaw and kissed you hard, his tongue keeping your mouth wide open; he swallowed every moan as you came, moaning himself like he could taste your pleasure in the kiss, holding your hand tighter than ever. 

Joel kept eating you out even when your whole body was shaking, even when your weak little hand was trying to push his head away— he only stopped when Emmett’s hand joined yours, just one touch and Joel lifted his head and sighed.

Emmett guided your hand back up to his face, and you held it (with what little strength you had) as you kept kissing him… though the kiss changed, it went from rough and hungry to soft and slow and gentle.

He stopped kissing you just enough to speak, his thumb petting your cheek so you would open your eyes.  “You did so good for me, babydoll,” he cooed under his breath.

Knowing you had finally done everything he wanted, you melted limply into Emmett’s arms, who chuckled a little at your exhaustion.  

“Looks like you really wore her out, Miller.”

“You did, too,” Joel returned.  “Besides, at that age, I’m guessin’ she’ll be raring to go again by the end of the hour.”

Emmett snorted.  “I can get her begging in five minutes,” he countered.

“Please— m’too tired,” you whimpered, cuddling up tighter against Emmett— but his hand was already snaking up your thigh, teasing further between your legs.

“Too tired, huh?” he taunted quietly, petting closer to your sore pussy until your legs spread naturally to let him touch where he wanted.  “Good girl.”

Two fingers delicately teased you, circling around your clit but never quit reaching it— until you were rocking your hips up to try to find some attention in the right spot.

When he did touch your clit, ever so gently, you shivered and mumbled his name; your eyes still closed, you hid your face in his neck and began to shamelessly rock against his fingers.  He teased your opening, making it apparent how wet you still were, but never dipped inside no matter how hard you tried to tempt him to.

“Please,” you whispered, too desperate to feel guilty for it at all, “Emmett, I need—”

“Jesus,” Joel laughed, “didn’t take long at all, did it?”

“Nope,” Emmett agreed.

“So fuckin’ needy,” Joel groaned.

“Yep,” Emmett responded simply again.  “Tell us what you need, babydoll…”

“I…I need…” you mumbled, face getting warm.  “Need to be full…”

“With what?” Joel pressed.

“Um…” you stalled, nervous to admit it but knowing they wouldn’t rest until you did.  “With a… a cock.”

Emmett snorted.  “Any cock?” he wondered.

“W-well, I figured one of you two—”

They both laughed a little, and you felt silly but your walls tightened against themselves.  “We’re not young like you, sweetpea— it’s not that easy,” Joel explained.  “Gonna need a little more patience…”

“But— but you got me all worked up!” you whined.  “You did that on purpose…”

“Yeah,” Emmett admitted with a purr, “yeah, baby, I did that on purpose.”

You pouted a bit.  “You’re mean sometimes…”

“Mhm,” he agreed with a soft laugh, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Joel.  “How long will it take you to get hard again?”

“Not that long,” Joel answered, “if she puts that mouth to good use.”

Emmett helped you sit up, patting your back encouragingly.  “Go ahead, baby, you know what to do…”

As you crawled towards where Joel knelt on the bed, still totally dazed and exhausted, you realized that tonight was far from over— and that tonight may not be all that Emmett had in store for you.

[teatoptony]

𝐂𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐈𝐝𝐢𝐨𝐭𝐬 - p.j

summary; who knew life threatening situations made you reevaluate your love life?

pairing; percy jackson x demigod!fem!reader

word count; 7.5k

warning(s); mild mentions of injury, spoilers for ttc

a/n; i'm guessing you meant the titan's curse? i changed a few things, but i hope this was what you had in mind. if not, feel free to send another request :)

the ending is schist. sorry.

You were on a dark hillside, shrouded in fog. Wisps of haze stuck and clung to your hair and clothes like cat hair, refusing to come off even when you tried to brush it away. Up above, you couldn't see the sky—just a close, heavy darkness, as if you were in a cave. From every direction, the same amount of pressure pushed down on you, like you were hundreds of miles below sea level. The place felt more like a deep-sea cavern than anything.

You felt like you were suffocating.

Thorn was long gone, you could tell. The smell of his disgusting cologne was nowhere to be found. A good thing, you supposed, as it really was rather horrible. On the down side, though, that meant you were completely stranded alone in the middle of nowhere.

"Thorn!" You called. Your own voice made your head pound. Raising a hand up to the back of your head with much more effort than you would like to admit, you felt something warm and sticky matting your hair. You grimaced. "Where are you? Why did you bring me here?"

You waited a minute or two before deciding that you were, in fact, on your own. Standing up only to drop back down, you hissed as you clutched your leg. Looking down at your calf, you gagged. Where one of Thorn's spikes had nicked you, the skin around the cut had turned a greenish-purplish colour, the cut itself scabbing over in a yellow-brown-black mess. He'd said his poison only causes pain; infections were a whole different problem.

You struggled up the hill, trying to reach the top. Maybe you'd be able to see if anything was around here from up high, though you doubted there would be anything for miles around. As you climbed, you vaguely noticed old, broken Greek columns of black marble scattered around, as though something had blasted a huge building to ruins.

Climbing over a section of broken wall, you finally made it to the crest of the hill. What you saw made your heart drop into your shoes.

On the rocky ground lay a boy with messy black hair and a tattered orange Camp Half-Blood shirt. He was crumpled like a soda can, and he seemed to be in pain. The blackness seemed to be thicker around him, the fog swirling hungrily. Squinting your eyes, you could see his eyes screwed shut with the effort of.. well, you couldn't quite tell. Whatever it was, it seemed horrible.

"Percy?" You whispered in shock, making your way toward him. As you walked closer, the air grew thicker and thicker, almost buzzing with electricity and the smell of ozone.

Percy's eyes cracked open when he heard your voice. Then they were wide with panic and relief.

"Y/N!" He called. "Help me! Please!"

You ran forward until you were no more than a few inches away from where he was standing—well, 'standing' is a strong word.. 'trying extremely hard not to be flattened into a Percy pancake' would be more accurate, now that you properly saw the state he was in. His hands were propped up next to his shoulders in an odd manner, like he was trying to hold up something massive and invisible.

Panic jolted into your brain as you registered his words. You reached out to touch his face.. then stopped at the last minute. He looked off; you couldn't tell why. Icy little needles prickled at the back of your neck, sending chills down your spine.

"Please, it's killing me." He said again. You took a step back.

"What happened?" You asked warily. Seeing Percy like this broke your heart, but something just felt wrong.

"They left me here," Percy groaned. You could've sworn his eyes looked almost yellow as he squeezed them shut again. He seemed to be struggling against some invisible curse, as though the fog were squeezing him to death.

Studying him closely again, you shook your head. You were just about to take another couple steps back when Percy's knees buckled. He yelped in surprise and almost toppled, but regained his balance in the last second. His face paled.

In the scarce light, Thalia's pine tree glimmered a soft green hue on one of the beads on his camp necklace. There was no Golden Fleece hanging from its branches.

The darkness above him began to crumble, like a cavern roof in an earthquake. Huge chunks of black rock began falling. You rushed in just as a crack appeared, and the whole ceiling dropped. You held it somehow—tons of rock. You kept it from collapsing on you and Percy just with your own strength. It was impossible. You shouldn't have been able to do that.

Just as the debris stopped falling, Percy rolled free, gasping. "Thanks." He managed. You clenched your jaw to steel yourself.

"Don't just lay there," you groaned.

Percy caught his breath. His face was covered in sweat and grime. He rose unsteadily.

Then, he flickered. Literally. His whole image flickered like the flame of a candle. You would've just brushed it off as something your brain made up from being put in such a stressful situation, but then it happened again. And again. Eventually, Percy flickered away..

..and Luke stood in his place.

"I knew I could count on you." He said, a crooked smirk twisting his face. He reached for his Camp Half-Blood necklace, and you realized there were glowing green runes etched onto every one of the six beads. Magic. Of course.

"Castellan." You spat, almost forgetting about the crushing weight on your shoulders as white-hot anger made your blood boil. "You prick."

"Nice to see you haven't changed," Luke said. He began to walk away as the trembling blackness threatened to pulverize you.

"Help. Me." You gritted your teeth. The words tasted bitter on your tongue. You knew it was no use; you were grasping at straws. But holding up literal tons of rock can make you do weird things.

"Oh, don't worry," Luke said. "Your help is on the way. It's all part of the plan. In the meantime, try not to die."

The ceiling of darkness began to crumble again, pushing you against the ground.

—

It's amazing how one perceives time when holding literal tons of stone.

At first, every second goes by agonizingly slow. Just when you think you're getting used to the weight, the ceiling cracks some more, piling more rocks on top of you until you're nearly squished like a bug. Once that cycle repeats a dozen or so times, you realize that a couple hours have passed, judging by the members of Kronos's army chatting amongst themselves while they stride by. You'd never been more relieved to hear dracanae making dinner plans.

Luke had said your 'help' was coming. You didn't know what poor soul was going to be trapped here next, but you couldn't help but hope they arrived quickly. As much as you didn't want anyone other than Luke to bear this weight, you were certain you'd die if they didn't. Maybe you could take turns once they arrived.

You were tired. Your legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment. Your bones felt like they were on fire.

In front of you, a throne of black marble had been strategically placed in the shadows so that whoever was sitting on it wasn't really visible unless you got really close. Ugh, villains and their ambiance. It oddly resembled the chair from that one Lincoln statue, albeit a bit smaller in size. Fortunately, you were far enough away from it that you didn't have to look at the ugly face of whoever was on the throne.

Your eyes had been screwed shut for a while when you heard the clanking of chains drawing near. The sound scraped to a stop a couple feet in front of you. You peeled open your eyes to see what was about to go down.

A small girl with auburn hair was shoved forward by a meaty hand. She had chains of celestial bronze binding her hands and feet like some medieval prisoner. Her silvery dress was torn and tattered. Her face and arms were cut in several places, and she was bleeding ichor, the golden blood of the gods.

A goddess?

"How is our mortal guest?" A male voice boomed. Its force made the ground and the boulders on your shoulders vibrate. Your head pounded in protest. You'd compare it to a bass guitar, but that would be offensive to bass guitars.

Luke emerged from the shadows. He ran and knelt beside you, then looked back at the unseen man. "She's fading. We must hurry." You vaguely wished you could bite his hand off.

Hey, he's in range, just under the rocks.

You were tempted to just drop everything and let it crush everyone to death. You decided against it, only because of the goddess in chains. There was no way she'd be able to escape.

"You heard the boy," said the man in the shadows. "Decide!"

Shut up, you thought irritably. The world buzzed with every word he spoke, and you were not a fan of that.

The girl's eyes flashed with anger. You supposed she must have been either a minor goddess or extremely drained, because she didn't seem able to just will the chains to explode or make herself disappear. Maybe the chains prevented her, or some magic about this dark, horrible place.

The goddess looked at you, and her expression changed to concern and outrage. "How dare you torture a maiden like this!"

Maiden? You mused. The ceiling piled more boulders on you, and you almost crumpled, barely regaining your balance in time. Must be Artemis. You decided, groaning weakly. From what you recalled, Artemis was the protector of women. Besides, silver.

"She will die soon," Luke said. "You can save her."

Like you'd care.

"Free my hands," Artemis said.

Don't be stupid, you caught yourself thinking. You thanked the fact that the gods couldn't read minds. Well, most of them, anyway.

Luke strided over to her. He brought out his sword, Backbiter, and broke the goddess's handcuffs in one swift strike. You promised yourself you'd use the damn thing to stick him in the stomach if you ever got the chance.

Artemis ran over to you and took the burden from your shoulders. You collapsed on the ground like a pile of bones. You felt your spine creak as the pressure was taken off of it, and your limbs wouldn't stop trembling. You bit the inside of your cheek to stop the bile from rising, but even that took so much effort.

The man in the shadows chuckled. "You are as predictable as you were easy to beat, Artemis." Oh, hey, you were right.

"You surprised me," Artemis said, straining under her burden. "It will not happen again."

"Indeed it will not," the man said. "Now you are out of the way for good! I knew you could not resist helping a young maiden. That is, after all, your specialty, my dear."

Your breathing grew more and more ragged with each word the man spoke. You felt something hot trickle down the back of your neck, leaving chills in its wake. Recalling your head wound from earlier, you grimaced. Had it not patched itself up? How much blood had you lost? Thinking about it made you dizzy.

Artemis groaned. "You know nothing of mercy, you swine."

"On that," the man said, "we can agree. Luke, you may kill the girl now."

Oh, you complete piece of–

Luke hesitated. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet. "She–she may yet be useful, sir.. Further bait."

"Bah! You truly believe that?"

"Yes, General. They will come for her. I'm sure."

The man considered. "Then the dracaenae can guard her here. Assuming she does not die from her injuries, you may keep her alive until winter solstice. After that, if our sacrifice goes as planned, her life will be meaningless. The lives of all mortals will be meaningless."

Luke gathered up your listless body and carried you away from the goddess. You would have stabbed him, but you weren't in any state to do much more than breathe, and even that was a bit of a struggle.

"You will never find the monster you seek," Artemis said. "Your plan will fail."

"How little you know, my young goddess," the man in the shadows said. "Even now, your darling attendants begin their quest to find you. They shall play directly into my hands. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have a long journey to make. We must greet your Hunters and make sure their quest is… challenging."

A sudden surge of annoyance flooded your brain. It was always like this, wasn't it? The 'bad guy' knew everything while your friends had to wander, dealing with every freakshow that sprung up on the way. It wasn't fair.

The man's laughter echoed in the darkness, shaking the ground until it seemed the whole cavern ceiling would collapse. You suddenly sympathized with how Zeus must have felt when Athena was banging on his skull, demanding to be let out. It felt like you had a goddess trapped up there. You wished someone would take an axe to it. Not like anyone here would have much aversion to that.

Luke took you a little while away from where Artemis was. Among the ruins, there was a semi-intact room with about two or three walls, depending on how tall you considered a wall to be. He placed you with your back against one of them. You glared at him from where you sat.

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped.

"Rot in Tartarus." You replied. Surprisingly, your voice worked. It sounded like metal against metal, but it worked.

Luke rolled his eyes. Then, his expression softened, just a little. "The gods are using you," he said bitterly. You rolled your eyes. Not this again. "Do you honestly think they care what happens to you?"

"I don't give a flying fuck what the gods care about," you said. Luke raised an eyebrow at your choice of words. "I care about my friends. I care about my life. You know, all the things you used to have before you stabbed us in the back and ran away."

With a bit of effort, you turned your head and spat on the ground. "Coward." You muttered, your hand wiping your face to get rid of all the grime. It didn't do much other than smudge it, really. "Couldn't even face us after your little stunt."

You could tell he was just itching to draw his sword from the way his hand twitched. You smirked. He was just too easy to rile up.

"I could kill you, here and now." He threatened. Geez, his villain talk needed some work.

"Go for it." You said, turning your head to look him in the eye again. Seeing the scar under his right, you cursed whatever dragon had caused it for not taking out his entire eyeball. Luke's expression changed from anger to irritation as he took a step back.

"I don't have to deal with you right now.." He muttered, turning away and walking off. Half a dozen dracanae came up from behind you, four of them taking positions on your left, right, and center while the other two continuously slithered in circles around you.

"Turn tail and run," you jeered. It was quiet, but it was enough to make him hear you, from the looks of it. His posture stiffened as the words left your tongue, making him seem rather huffy as he marched out of sight.

When the top of Luke's head disappeared, you felt all the strength leave your body. Your need to poke and prod at him had been the only reason you'd even been able to talk, you were sure. Your eyelids felt heavier than the cave ceiling. It wouldn't hurt to just close them for a moment or two..

You slept like the dead.

—

Surprisingly, it wasn't all that long until Percy came around, simply because the days blended into one. The sun never rose here, which meant your biological clock was the only thing that told you what time it could possibly be. The dracanae assigned to be your guards—three batches of six, from what you could tell by some of their features—weren't really the chattiest of their kind.

Your head wound had turned crusty and gross during the time you were kept here. Your calf wasn't in much better condition. You were shivering most of the time, cold sweat drenching your clothes and making them feel uncomfortable and disgusting to be in. The world spun without any prompts now.

You were messing with your roughly once-a-day rations when Luke came to grab you. It was the first time you'd seen him since he left you here. He looked paler and weaker than the first time you'd seen him here, and that was impressive considering he had just gotten out of getting crushed to death back then. Even in your condition, you had no doubt you could have taken him if the guards weren't here. Maybe if you had your weapon...

Despite that, he had a smug smirk on his face that you would've loved to slap off.

"Get up," he ordered. You pointed at your tray.

"I'm not done with my slop." You replied. In truth, you'd never touch the stuff, maybe taking one or two glops out of it just to keep yourself alive before lobbing the rest at your guards.

Luke snapped his fingers at the dracanae. Two of them slid over to either side of you and harshly lifted you up by each of your arms. You let out a disgruntled groan. The slop you'd just choked down threatened to make a reappearance as everything turned blurry and twisty. You tried not to sway on your feet.

"I said, get. Up." He sneered. You made a face at him in return.

"Fine." You snapped. You pulled your arms out of the snake women's grasp, only for Luke to cuff your hands behind your back. You opened your mouth to complain, but he stuffed a gag in it. You felt like you were about to hurl. The thing tasted like sandpaper and mouldy gym socks.

He dragged you alongside him, walking—well, limping, in your case—downhill and circling the lower points before climbing his way back up. There, he joined half a dozen dracaenae bearing the golden sarcophagus of Kronos and a hulking man in a brown silk suit. You supposed this was the one who'd been sitting on the throne when Artemis was brought in. You waited for your vision to clear a bit before taking note of his appearance.

His skin was light brown, and his dark hair was slicked back in a (in your opinion) rather wet-dog-like fashion. He had a regal expression; a cold, proud look in his grey eyes, like a CEO who ran one of those huge companies that were responsible for the ice caps melting.

"My lady!" Someone cried at the top of the hill. The Hulk-man gestured with his hand for his forces to follow him up the hill. Ugh, villains and their grand entrances, too.

Luke pushed you forward as he unsheathed Backbiter. Once you reached the crest of the hill, he pointed the blade at your neck.

From here, you could see a small group of people who were definitely not a part of Kronos's army. There was Percy, Thalia, and another girl who was kneeling at Artemis's side. You grimaced. None of them looked like they were in much of a shape to fight. Especially the new girl—you could see the dark colour of blood soaking through her silvery clothes. The getup looked somewhat familiar.. where had you seen that before? Her skin, which you assumed under better circumstances would be a coppery brown, was slowly being bleached.

"Stop! It is a trap. You must leave now." Artemis groaned. Her voice was strained. She was drenched in sweat. The ceiling threatened to pile more rocks on her as one or two new cracks appeared.

Despite the goddess's warning, the girl tugged stubbornly at her chains. Of course, they didn't budge. You could see she was trembling, but whether that was from the blood loss or from crying, you weren't too sure. She really needed a medic.

"Ah, how touching." Hulk-man said.

Points for a moderate opening line, I guess.

The three turned around. Percy and Thalia raised their weapons as New Girl opted to position herself between Artemis and Hulk-man. Ah, must be a Hunter. You'd seen the pamphlet Annabeth had.

Your eyes met Percy's as he scanned the crowd. When he took in what was going on, the look of anger that took over his features was like nothing you'd seen before on him. The boy looked just about ready to commit war crimes.

As touching as that was, all you wanted was for him to get the hell out of here. Hulk-man, as much as calling him that made him sound ridiculous, wasn't one to be taken lightly, you could tell.

"Luke," Thalia snarled. "Let her go."

Luke smiled thinly. "That is the General's decision, Thalia. But it's good to see you again." He said. Thalia looked like she was ready to murder him, which she probably was. Honestly, same.

Thalia spat at him. The gag stifled your laugh. Luke rolled his eyes and pressed the blade of his sword harder against your throat. You tried not to wince as it cut shallowly through your skin. You could just see Percy's grip tightening on Riptide.

Hulk-man—'The General', whatever—chuckled. "So much for old friends. And you, Zoë. It's been a long time. How is my little traitor? I will enjoy killing you."

New Girl—whom you could only assume was Zoë—clenched her jaw. Her face was pale, and she didn't look like she was in a much better condition than Luke, which was saying something. Huh, she and the General looked kinda similar..

"Do not respond," Artemis groaned. "Do not challenge him."

"Wait a second," Percy said. "You're Atlas?"

Ah. Oh. Wait—what?

The General glanced at him. "So, even the stupidest of heroes can finally figure something out. Yes, I am Atlas, the general of the Titans and terror of the gods. Congratulations. I will kill you presently, as soon as I deal with this wretched girl."

"You're not going to hurt Zoë." Percy said. "I won't let you."

The General sneered. "You have no right to interfere, little hero. This is a family matter."

Percy frowned. "A family matter?"

"Yes," Zoë said bleakly. "Atlas is my father."

Percy's eyes flickered between Zoë and Atlas, taking in the new information. It was easy to see the family resemblance, even if one of them was an evil titan overlord and another was a Hunter of Artemis. His frown deepened as he made the same connections.

"Let Artemis go," Zoë demanded. She struggled to her feet, the look in her eyes so close yet so different from Atlas's.

Atlas walked closer to the chained goddess. "Perhaps you'd like to take the sky for her, then? Be my guest."

No, no, no, no, no. You thought. Look at the state you're in. You'll die.

Zoë opened her mouth to speak, but Artemis said, "No! Do not offer, Zoë! I forbid you."

Atlas smirked. He knelt next to Artemis and tried to touch her face, but the goddess bit at him, almost taking off his fingers. Pity, if only he were slower.

"Hoo-hoo," Atlas chuckled. "You see, daughter? Lady Artemis likes her new job. I think I will have all the Olympians take turns carrying my burden, once Lord Kronos rules again, and this is the center of our palace. It will teach those weaklings some humility."

Percy looked at you. Your eyes flickered between his and Zoë's bow. In situations like these, your philosophy was simple: first move, first kill. Whoever took the first shot was going to result the first casualty, and you hoped your friends were smart enough to know that by now.

Atlas was in a somewhat vulnerable position. If Zoë fired now, he'd have to take a second to stand. You bet it would take Luke by surprise, too. After all, if she was Atlas's daughter, she must be thousands of years old, with that much experience.

Take. A. Shot.

Percy just stood there, staring at you. His eyes lingered on the top of your head. Thalia muttered something to him that you didn't quite catch. Geez, was the wound really that bad? Could he even see it from there?

As if on cue, you stumbled, suddenly feeling like you were standing on a surfing board. You hissed weakly as the movement made Luke's sword slip across your neck. A trickle of blood slowly made its way down to your shirt.

"I don't understand," Percy said. His voice was slightly forced. "Why can't Artemis just let go of the sky?"

Atlas laughed. Ugh, shut up. The sound made your head pound even more than before. "How little you understand, young one. This is the point where the sky and the earth first met, where Ouranos and Gaia first brought forth their mighty children, the Titans. The sky still yearns to embrace the earth. Someone must hold it at bay, or else it would crush down upon this place, instantly flattening the mountain and everything within a hundred leagues. Once you have taken the burden, there is no escape." Atlas smiled. "Unless someone else takes it from you."

He approached Percy and Thalia, studying them. His back was turned to Zoë. Take a shot. "So these are the best heroes of the age, eh? Not much of a challenge."

"Fight us," he said. "And let's see."

"Have the gods taught you nothing? An immortal does not fight a mere mortal directly. It is beneath our dignity. I will have Luke crush you instead."

Luke looks like he'd fall over if you looked at him too hard, you thought. Then you internally groaned at yourself for being held hostage by him in that state. Ugh, being helpless felt gross.

"So you're another coward," Percy said.

Atlas stiffened. You were sure he would've punched Percy straight in the head if he wasn't so prideful. With difficulty, he turned his attention to Thalia.

"As for you, daughter of Zeus, it seems Luke was wrong about you." He said smoothly, although you could hear the clear irritation in his voice.

"I wasn't wrong," Luke managed. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see that he somehow looked even worse than he did just a couple moments ago. Beads of sweat made their way down his forehead (ew), and he spoke every word as if it were painful. You thanked whatever was the reason for his pain. "Thalia, you can still join us. Call the Ophiotaurus. It will come to you. Look!"

He waved his hand, and next to Thalia, a pool of water appeared: a pond ringed in black marble, big enough for a small seal. Percy took one look at it, then stared for a few moments like he was in a trance. He then shook his head a little and looked back at you with a rather stupid, blank look on his face. He looked like he'd broken his brain by thinking too hard, an expression you knew all too well from sitting next to him in English Lit.

"Thalia, call the Ophiotaurus," Luke persisted. "And you will be more powerful than the gods."

"Luke…" Her voice was full of pain. "What happened to you?"

"Don't you remember all those times we talked? All those times we cursed the gods? Our fathers have done nothing for us. They have no right to rule the world!"

Like the Titans were going to be any better. Could he not see that he'd be dead as soon as Kronos rose to the throne?

Thalia shook her head. "Free Y/N. Let her go."

"If you join me," Luke promised, "it can be like old times. Annabeth will see our side eventually. The three of us together. Fighting for a better world. Please, Thalia, if you don't agree…"

His voice faltered. "It's my last chance. He will use the other way if you don't agree. Please."

Okay, so maybe he did realize his life was in danger here. You weren't sure what he meant, but the fear in his voice sounded real enough. For one reason or another, his life depended on Thalia's joining his cause. You, for one, couldn't bring yourself to care about him after everything he'd done. You were afraid Thalia might, though.

"Do not, Thalia," Zoë warned. "We must fight them."

Luke waved his hand again, and a fire appeared. A bronze brazier, just like the one at camp. A sacrificial flame.

"Thalia," Percy said. "No."

You held your breath. Whatever they were talking about, it was clear you were out of the loop. But one thing was for sure—Luke, and by extension Kronos, desperately wanted Thalia to summon this Ophiotaurus thing, which meant you had to hope desperately that she wouldn't.

Behind you, a quiet, high-pitched humming noise grew louder as the air grew warmer. You saw a golden light cast on the boulders, presumably from Kronos's sarcophagus. As it did, you saw images in the mist all around you: black marble walls rising, the ruins becoming whole, a terrible and beautiful palace rising around you, made of fear and shadow.

"We will raise Mount Othrys right here," Luke promised, in a voice so strained it was hardly his. "Once more, it will be stronger and greater than Olympus. Look, Thalia. We are not weak."

Debatable.

He pointed toward the ocean, and Percy's expression turned into one of slight horror. With the whole being held at swordpoint and all, you couldn't look at whatever it was he was so afraid of, but it must have been horrible if it scared Percy like that.

"This is only a taste of what is to come," Luke said. "Soon we will be ready to storm Camp Half-Blood. And after that, Olympus itself. All we need is your help."

For a terrible moment, Thalia hesitated. She gazed at Luke, her eyes full of pain, as if the only thing she wanted in the world was to believe him. Then she leveled her spear. "You aren't Luke. I don't know you anymore."

"Yes, you do, Thalia," he pleaded. "Please. Don't make me… Don't make him destroy you."

Percy looked back at you. You nodded slightly, hoping he'd get the message already. He then looked to Thalia and Zoë, as if he were steeling himself for the fight to come.

"Now," he said.

Together, they charged.

Thalia went straight for Luke. The hideous face of Medusa glared at you as she ran, making you stand frozen in fear. Behind you, you heard panicked hissing and a loud thump as the dracanae ran away.

Despite his sickly appearance, Luke was still quick with his sword. He snarled like a wild animal and counterattacked. When his sword, Backbiter, met Thalia's shield, a ball of lightning erupted between them, frying the air with yellow tendrils of power.

As Backbiter left your throat, you did the least heroic thing you could think of.

You ran.

Tucking yourself behind a large boulder, you tried to wait out the battle. In your current state, you'd be a liability rather than an asset. From this new position, you could see wave after wave of monsters marching from the Princess Andromeda and up the mountain.

You hated that you could do nothing but hope that your friends would make it out alive. Preferably before the army reached the top.

"Die, little hero," Atlas said. You had a feeling he was talking about Percy. Your heart dropped a hundred miles below.

Screw this. You had to do something. Now.

Finding a jagged spot in the boulder you were hiding behind, you maneuvered yourself into a position where you could somehow strike your hands downward and theoretically break your cuffs on the rock. Assuming they weren't made of celestial bronze, that is. After about three tries and one painful miscalculation, the chain finally broke, and you ripped the gag from your mouth, spitting to get rid of the taste.

When you peered around the boulder, the fight was complete mayhem. There was Atlas in full battle armor, jabbing with his javelin, laughing insanely as he fought. And a blur of silver—Artemis?

She had two wicked hunting knives, each as long as her arm, and she slashed wildly at the Titan, dodging and leaping with unbelievable grace. She seemed to change form as she maneuvered. She was a tiger, a gazelle, a bear, a falcon. Or perhaps that was just your fevered brain.

Zoë shot arrows at her father, aiming for the chinks in his armor. He roared in pain each time one found its mark, but they affected him like bee stings. He just got madder and kept fighting.

Wait, if Artemis was out fighting...

Who was holding the sky?

Where was Percy?

Looking over to the dreaded spot, you saw Percy trying not to get crushed under the weight of the sky. His eyes were screwed shut, concentrating on anything and everything but the burden on his shoulders. Right before your eyes, you could've sworn a lock of his hair was turning grey.

Oh, hell no.

Not really thinking, you streaked across the battlefield with surprising speed. Rolling under arrows and narrowly avoiding Atlas's javeline once, you reached Percy, who was about to pass out. You rolled under the boulders—which you now saw were actually dark, heavy clouds—and braced yourself on your good leg, kneeling down. Reaching up with your hands, you took the sky once again.

Every cell in your body screamed in protest. The pounding in your head was worse than what Zeus felt in Athena's origin story; you were sure of it. You felt like the vertebrae in your spine were being welded together by a blowtorch.

Fortunately, though, two people holding the sky was evidently easier than doing it alone.

"What the–" You vaguely heard Percy say. He was cut off by a blood-curdling scream. You managed to open your eyes and saw Zoë leap between her father and Artemis, shooting an arrow straight into the Titan's forehead, where it lodged like a unicorn's horn. Atlas bellowed in rage. He swept aside his daughter with the back of his hand, sending her flying into the black rocks.

"Zoë!" Percy shouted. He looked frantically between you and the direction she flew. As much as he wanted to go help her, he didn't try to move, afraid you wouldn't be able to handle the full burden of the sky.

The cold weight of dread settled in your stomach. Zoë didn't get back up.

Then Atlas turned on Artemis with a look of triumph on his face.

Artemis seemed to be wounded. She didn't get up.

"The first blood in a new war," Atlas gloated. And he stabbed downward.

Just then, a voice spoke in your head. Get ready, Artemis told you. You realized she was leading Atlas closer to where you knelt. With great difficulty, you turned your head to meet Percy's eyes. You could tell Artemis had told him the same thing.

"Go." You said, your voice strained. You tried to tell him the goddess's plan, but your voice wouldn't work anymore, so instead you looked frantically between Atlas and the sky. Percy hesitated for a split second before ducking and rolling out from under the clouds.

As fast as thought, Artemis grabbed Atlas's javelin shaft. It hit the earth right next to her and she pulled backward, using the javelin like a lever, kicking the Titan Lord and sending him flying over her.

You saw him coming down on top of you, and you loosened your grip on the sky. And as Atlas slammed into you, you didn't try to hold on. You let yourself be pushed out of the way and rolled for all you were worth.

The weight of the sky dropped onto Atlas's back, almost smashing him flat until he managed to get to his knees, struggling to get out from under the crushing weight of the sky. But it was too late.

"Noooooo!" He bellowed so hard it shook the mountain. "Not again!"

Atlas was trapped under his old burden.

As for you, you didn't try to stand. Odd as it was, you could feel no part of your body and every single atom at the same time. You felt like you were literally burning up. Your head felt like someone was taking a dull axe to it over, and over, and over. Your leg felt like it was poisoned all over again.

After that, you don't remember much else. Hard to when you're unconscious.

—

Things were kinda hazy after that. You faintly remember waking up on a marble floor, a good-looking guy with a perfect tan and gold curls leaning over you. You thought it was Will, but this guy looked a lot older, and more golden, somehow.

"There you go, kid," he said, smiling widely at someone next to you. His teeth were so white, you were surprised it didn't make your head hurt worse. Wait.. did it even hurt at all? "God of medicine, at your service."

"Thanks." You heard Percy's voice mutter. He sounded relieved, but there was a bit of a point to his tone. Golden Guy—Apollo, you assumed—smirked knowingly and stood up, teleporting out of sight.

"Now for the Ophiotaurus," a voice said. Maybe Artemis. You fell asleep before you could hear much more of the conversation.

—

The next time you woke up, it lasted a lot longer. The familiar scent of the infirmary prompted you to open your eyes. When you did, the sight made you let out a breathless laugh. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, casting warm sunlight in patterns across the white sheets of the bed. On the windowsill, a small collection of potted plants sprouted soft green shoots.

When you tried to move your hand, you found that a slight weight held it down. Someone took a sharp breath, and their fingers tightened around your hand.

"Oh, you're awake." Percy said. You sat up. His face looked a mess. A couple scars here and there and some bruises (all covered in some sort of balm), plus dark circles like he hadn't had a proper sleep in days. His shoulders sagged as he scanned yours. "Thank the gods."

You must have looked confused, because he straightened up and started explaining everything that had happened at the mountain, then at Olympus. Mr. Chase was, surprisingly, not that bad. Something about Artemis's Santa Claus sleigh. Zoë had passed on. Apparently, you were an expert pegasus rider in your sleep. Golden Guy was, in fact, Apollo—though Percy seemed a bit miffed when you called him that—and was the one who had healed you before you came back to Camp. Will had still insisted you stayed in the infirmary for a day or two so that he could check on you to make sure you were alright.

"You really had me scared, you know?" He said, his cheeks growing red. "You were so dumb, taking the sky when you were like that. I had it."

"Yeah, sure you did, Ariel." You snorted. Then you squinted at him. "Your hair's grey," you informed.

"So's yours," Percy rolled his eyes. "Dude, I was scared you were gonna die on me, and the first thing you say is that my hair's grey?"

"Well it is," you simply said. He let out an exasperated sigh, and you put a finger on his forehead to push his head up. "You didn't have anything to worry about. Not gonna get rid of me that easily, Jackson."

He laughed, but then trailed off. He fiddled with your fingers a bit. You felt your ears grow warm as you realized he was still holding your hand.

"Seriously though... I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if you were gone because I let you take all of it. The sky."

"Yeah, well, I'm still here." You said softly. He smiled a little.

He took a breath, then paused, as if deciding whether or not to say what he was thinking out loud. "You know why I was so scared?"

"Because you thought your best friend was about to die?"

"No." He said. Then he quickly backtracked, "well, yeah, but not just that. I was scared that I wouldn't be able to tell you..."

He took another breath.

"I like you. Like, like-like you. A lot, actually."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Wait, what?" You asked, dumbfounded. Your face flushed as his sea green eyes met yours, suddenly very interested in the linen sheets of your cot.

"I've been in love with you since we were kids," Percy chuckled. "I used to make my mom pick out my clothes when we went to your place so that I'd look good."

If your face wasn't red before, it certainly was now. You grabbed Percy's hand in yours a little tighter and laughed. "You know, I used to make you watch all those Disney movies so that you'd kinda get the hint that I liked you," you mused. Percy perked up. "All the girl-gets-the-guy stuff. Now I kinda figure, I should've made you play Barbie and Ken with me instead."

"What, make me Ken?"

"Nah. You'd be Barbie." You laughed at his expression. He huffed as if he found the idea nuts. "I'd be Ken. We'd be married, maybe have a horse."

"A horse?"

"Hey, I lost all the tiny Barbie puppies!"

"Well," he chuckled. You could've sworn his eyes sparkled. "In that case, you'll be happy to know, since we were kids, I planned to marry you someday."

"Oh yeah?" He hummed in confirmation. "What did it look like?"

"I dunno. Like the first thing that pops up when you type 'wedding' on Google."

"Wow. Way to be generic, Perce." You deadpanned. He punched your arm lightly.

"Hey, I was like six!" He said defensively.

A light quiet settled over the two of you as you looked down, avoiding Percy's expectant stare and fiddling with his fingers instead. He had that stupid grin on his face, which you'd come to adore over the years you'd known him.

"So..what now?" You asked, slowly lifting your gaze to meet his. His face flushed, and this time, it was he who turned away. He muttered something under his breath—a prayer?—and looked back at you. He looked like he wanted to run away.

"D'you want to go to the fireworks with me? Like, as a date?" He asked. You giggled.

"That's like, six months away." You laughed. He shrugged.

"Yeah. I need six months to get ready, obviously." He said, rolling his eyes.

"Yeah, obviously. My bad." You held back your laughter long enough to accept. "I'd love to go with you."

Percy was just about to say more when Will burst out of the 'doctor's office'. The boy stood up so suddenly that he almost knocked his chair over. Will walked over and shooed Percy away.

"Yeah, yeah, we all like each other. Can you please let me work now?" He said, and Percy's ears burned bright red. He muttered a quick see you later and practically ran out of the infirmary.

"We thought he'd never tell you," Will commented, checking the back of your head.

"We?"

"Uh, probably, what, half the camp? Maybe more," he said absentmindedly. Giving you a once-over, he nodded to himself in satisfaction. "Dad did a good job on you."

He gave you the go-ahead a minute or two later. As you walked out the door, you saw Percy talking animatedly to Annabeth near the volleyball court, his back towards you. The blonde had an amused smile on her face, and when she noticed you, she put her hands on Percy's shoulders and spun him around. Catching your eye, the boy gave you a small wave and a smile. You waved back, a grin of your own on your lips.

With his slight blush and bright eyes, it was hard to believe a doomsday prophecy was in his hands.

The end of the world never felt so far away.

[punkshort]

look what we've become - ch.8

Chapter Summary: Your POV from captivity. You learn some interesting information about the Fireflies and run into an unexpected person from your past.

Chapter Warnings: language, graphic depictions of violence, blood, torture, one teeny tiny 'daddy' reference (couldn't help myself, more of a nod to the fandom than anything), infected, reader gets roughed up, description of injuries and pain

WC: 4.7K

Series Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

"You said take the girl, so I took the girl!"

"I meant the fucking kid, not her!"

You stifled a groan, your eyes still shut tight, unable to handle the brightness from the overhead lighting. Your head was spinning, and if you moved too much, your stomach heaved, so you laid as still as possible, hoping and praying whatever was going to happen would happen quickly.

The smell didn't help, either. You had no idea where you were, but your cheek was pressed up against a cool, tile floor and the entire room smelled like rot. You heard a muffled, rhythmic thumping against a wall in the corner of the room. It felt damp and humid, like maybe you were in a cabin or a basement. And you definitely were not alone. Once you woke from whatever drug they had slipped into your neck, you did your best to still appear asleep, hoping that maybe you could find out some helpful information while your captors still thought you couldn't hear them.

The two voices continued to argue - a man and a woman - about the mix-up. Ellie. They were after Ellie, not you. That frightened you even more.

How long has it been since you've been taken? Hours? A day?

Joel would have made them leave. He wouldn't have kept her there after he realized what happened. If not to protect her, he would have moved to try to find you. As much as you didn't want him to come looking for you, to put Ellie in harm's way, you knew he would. You had no idea how many people were part of this group that took you, but it was definitely too many for Joel to handle on his own. And he wouldn't waste time going back to Jackson for help.

You needed to get out of there before Joel got himself killed trying to find you.

The voices continued to talk, the volume increasing, the words becoming clearer. They were getting closer to where you were tied up on the floor. Why did the one voice sound vaguely familiar? Did you know these people?

"We sent another crew out to fix your fuck up," the woman said, her shoes squeaking on the tile. "You better hope they find her, or it's your ass."

"Yes, ma'am," the man's voice said weakly.

"I know you're awake," the woman's voice said icily. Part of you wanted to remain still and call her bluff, but her boot was too close to your already tender head, and you didn't want to risk another hit. You allowed one eye to crack open, the light like an icepick in your brain. You brought your hands up to shield your eyes as you struggled to sit upright with your wrists and ankles tied together.

When you finally sat up, you leaned your head back with a sigh, trying to get your bearings and calm your churning stomach before forcing both eyes open to look at your captor for the first time.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," you croaked, surprised at how rough your own voice sounded.

Amy laughed and jumped up on a gurney behind her, swinging her legs back and forth over the edge, the motion making you nauseous the longer you watched.

Amy. Joel's ex-fiancée and the woman who helped lead the group of animals who took you both in long before you found Jackson, under the guise of it being a safe community but failing to mention that community ran on a very primitive form of currency.

"Yeah, thought you'd be happy to see me," she said with a chuckle, flicking her dirty blonde hair over her shoulder.

"Elated," you said dryly, sliding your eyes back closed.

"If it makes you feel any better, I wasn't exactly thrilled to see you, either."

"That does make me feel better, thank you," you snapped, opening your eyes again to glare at her.

"You do realize I hold the key to your release, right? Maybe treat me with a little respect," Amy said, the fake smile slipping from her face.

"You and I both know I'm not getting out of here," you replied, but she shook her head.

"Not necessarily. If we can't find the girl, you're our contingency plan."

You narrowed your eyes, the rage beginning to burn deep in your chest. Knowing you would regret it, you asked the question anyway.

"What do you mean?"

Amy smirked as she slid down from the gurney and bent down to look you in the eye.

"What I mean is, he would do anything to get you back. Including giving up the kid."

Something in you snapped. You lunged forward, swinging your head and smashing it directly into her nose. You heard the distinctive crunch right as the blood began to pour out of both nostrils. She stumbled back in shock, clutching her face while she howled in pain. Even though your head felt like it was splitting in two, you grinned. Worth it.

Once the pain subsided, she dropped her hands, her face smeared with dark red blood, her nose turning purple and swollen, clearly broken.

"You fucking bitch," she muttered. She took one step forward and swung her leg back, the toe of her boot coming in direct contact with your cheek. You squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to make a single noise indicating you were in any pain, not giving her the satisfaction. But the blood that was pooling in your mouth told a different story.

Amy laughed as she watched you spit blood on the tile next to you.

"You're gonna regret that," she said, walking backwards towards the door. "Your people really had us chasing you all over the goddamn place, even lost a few friends. I got some guys outside who would love to break a few of your bones for all that."

As the door slammed shut, you finally allowed yourself to take a shaky breath in and look around. Even though you were alone, you still heard the thumping coming from the corner of the room. You leaned forward, trying to see what was causing the noise, but all you saw was a small room with a stainless steel door sealed shut. There were gurneys everywhere, some of them broken, some not. Between you and the door there were six flat, stainless steel tables in front of what looked like refrigerators. Chancing a look up at the lights, you noticed some appeared to be the type you might see in a dentist's office or an operating room. Then it dawned on you.

You were in a morgue.

You couldn't be sure how much time had passed. You lost consciousness a few times. Amy wasn't kidding. The men she employed were pissed, and they took it out on you with every punch and kick. Each time you woke up, you felt a new pain somewhere in your body. A new broken bone or a new cut. Eventually, Amy returned, and even in your wrecked state, you still found a sliver of pleasure seeing her nose taped up and the dark bruise blooming under each of her eyes.

"Had enough yet?" she asked with a smirk. You snarled in response and spit more blood on the ground.

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me where Joel and the girl are," she said, holding her hands out to her sides like it was obvious.

"I have no idea," you said truthfully, struggling to sit up.

"Okay, why don't you tell me where home is, and we can start there?" she offered, and you laughed.

"You should just go ahead and kill me if that's what you want," you told her, glaring at her with one eye, the other swollen shut already.

"Don't think we won't," she said, tilting her head to the side as she regarded you silently for a moment, her thoughts clearly drifting to something else.

"What?" you asked her through gritted teeth.

"Don't you think he's a little old for you?" she finally asked, her eyes raking up and down your body. You knew it would always boil down to this. You knew she could never see past your relationship with Joel. What he was willing to do for you, what he has done for you, what she lost and would never have.

"What, do you have daddy issues or something?" she asked with a scoff.

You smirked as more blood trickled down your chin, the cut on your lip refusing to heal.

"Sometimes he likes it when I call him daddy, if that's what you mean," you told her. The face she made was worth the kick to the head. You giggled and coughed, the pain and the smell and the insanity of everything happening finally hitting home.

"He's gonna kill you, you know," you said with a grin, leaning up against the cool tile wall. "Even if you kill me. Especially if you kill me, he will find you, and he will kill you."

Amy was smirking at you, but you saw the look in her eye. It was fast, but you caught it. She knew you were right.

"We'll see," she said, backing up so she could lift herself up on one of the stainless steel tables. She watched you for a moment, blood trickling out of every wound, bruises deepening in color with each passing minute. You were pretty sure your arm and a couple ribs were broken and you most definitely had a concussion, but you refused to show any weakness. You glared at her from your spot on the ground, waiting for whatever was going to happen next.

"Do you know what we do here?" she asked you. The question took you off guard.

"Other than torture people? No."

She laughed at that.

"We're trying to make a fucking vaccine," she told you, like she expected you to be grateful. You already figured that much out, but you didn't say so.

"How's that going for you?" you asked, voice dripping with sarcasm.

"It would be a lot fucking better if we had that goddamn girl," she told you. Her emotions were getting the best of her. You could hear it with every word, and it put you even more at ease. They were desperate.

"Oh, yeah?" you said. "That's a shame."

"Do you have any idea how many people sacrificed themselves for this cause?" she asked, her brows furrowed. You shrugged.

"Enlighten me."

"Countless," she said, jutting her chin towards the room in the corner. You looked over at the closed door. The thumping was fainter when you were alone, but now that Amy was talking, the noise started up again.

"There's a lot of people who are immune, you know," she began, and you felt your muscles tense. "So many of them gave their lives to help us find a cure. We are so close. Our doctor just needs one more, and that kid is the answer." You began to put the pieces together, and the noise in the corner was starting to make sense. You felt your stomach roll.

"Sounds like a really shitty doctor if they let so many people die," you told her, and she scoffed.

"He's brilliant. You have no idea how difficult it is to extract DNA in this type of setting, and - I don't even know why I'm bothering," she said, shaking her head. "The point is, that girl could save us all."

"You said it yourself. There's a lot of people who are immune," you mumbled. You could feel yourself fading but you fought to stay awake. "Find someone else."

"Fuck that," she said, jumping down from the table and crouching in front of you. "Where is she?"

"Even if I knew, I wouldn't tell you," you whispered, your good eye sliding shut.

"Don't you dare pass out!" she shrieked, slapping you across the face. The adrenaline perked you up for a few seconds, but the blood loss ultimately won, and you slipped back into darkness.

You woke up to the sound of gunfire coming from the floors above you. The noise was faint, but it was distinctive. Pop, pop, pop. How long were you out for this time? Was it nighttime? There were no windows, you had no semblance of time other than the hunger that gnawed at your insides as more hours passed without food or water.

You blinked and looked around, confirming you were still alone before trying to sit up. The blood loss was too much, your head was pounding, and your side felt like you had been hit by a bus. Slumping back down, you took a few deep breaths before trying again. The gunshots were getting closer, and your adrenaline was spiking, giving you the little boost you needed to force yourself up. You looked down, trying to assess the damage to your body. Your upper thigh had a big, weeping gash, probably the culprit for the majority of your blood loss. Your one eye was still swollen but you could crack it open just a bit now if you really had to. Your cheekbone felt like it might be broken, and a few ribs were definitely broken, but at least your knees and ankles were good. If you could cut the ties, you could run. Or stumble.

As the gunfire got closer, the thumping against the door in the corner of the room got louder. There was no doubt in your mind at this point that they kept infected in there, and you just hoped you weren't still tied up if they got out.

Your brain was foggy, you were having a hard time staying focused, but the panic began to set in. Why was there gunfire? What was happening? Then a hazy thought drifted by in the back of your mind. Joel?

There was no way he could have found you this fast. He wouldn't have put the pieces together. You barely could keep up with what was happening. But then the door handle jiggled and a small form snuck into the room quietly and you thought you must have been dying. Surely, you were hallucinating, your brain short circuiting as it began to shut down, because there was no possible way Ellie was actually crouching in front of you, repeating your name urgently as she tugged on your restraints to no avail.

"Shit, hold on," you heard her mutter, setting the familiar looking hunting rifle on the floor next to her so she could fish her switchblade out of her pocket. Yes, you were most definitely hallucinating. Joel wouldn't have given her his rifle. Unless...

"Is he dead?" you rasped, finally finding your voice. Ellie paused with her switchblade hovering over your ankles and frowned at you.

"Joel? No," she said, shaking her head as she began to saw on the restraints, freeing your legs and then moving to your wrists.

"What's..." you tried again, but you could feel yourself fading and all you could hear was that fucking thumping in the corner of the room and the gunfire down the hall.

"We're getting you out of here," she said, tucking her shoulder underneath your arm and hoisting you up with a grunt. You muffled a cry at the pain shooting down your side, blood gushing down your leg again now that you were moving.

"Oh, fuck," she whispered, leading you over to a gurney so you could steady yourself before she dug into her pack for an old shirt. She bent down and wrapped it around your thigh as tight as she could, wincing as she double knotted it before she stood back up.

"Can you move?" she asked, her eyes wide with panic. You nodded, but you weren't sure. If Ellie had the rifle, where was Joel?

As if an answer to your question, Joel burst into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, frantically looking around before pulling a table over to barricade it. You must have looked worse than you thought because when he finally turned around to look at you for the first time, his face crumpled for a moment before he quickly collected himself and rushed over.

"What'd they do to you?" he murmured in your ear as his arms came up to wrap around your middle. You winced and leaned back, your hand coming up to your ribs to tenderly cover the spot he just squeezed.

"Fuck, I'm sorry," he whispered, his eyes raking down your body, trying to take stock of your injuries.

"It's okay," you said. His eyes flicked to the corner of the room where the noise was reaching a fever pitch.

"Oh, shit," Ellie muttered, her attention also pulled to the locked door.

"We gotta get you outta here," Joel said, seemingly making the connection much quicker than you did. "Can you walk?"

"I think so, but I can't go fast," you said, bending over and holding yourself up with your arms braced on the gurney. For the first time, you noticed the blood. He was covered in it. Splashed up his jeans and boots and all over his hands, some even sprayed on his neck.

"That's fine," he said as he began to push the table away from the door. The noises from the locked room got even louder as the table legs screeching on the tile floor.

"There's too many of them, Joel. We can't-"

"Yeah, we can," he said, cutting you off. He was turning to look at you, still in disbelief while he opened the door, not paying attention as someone pushed their way in, knocking him to the ground with the stock of a rifle.

He fell with a groan, his hands coming up to clutch the side of his face as Amy quickly locked the door behind her. She aimed her rifle at Joel's chest, and he dropped his hands to the side, staring up at her like he was seeing a ghost.

"What the fuck?" he whispered, and she smirked.

"Nice to see you, too, baby," she snarled, her nose still taped and her eyes still black.

"Who's she?" Ellie asked under her breath at your side, but you just shook your head. Amy glanced up and let out a shaky laugh when she saw Ellie.

"After everything you did, Joel, you still lost," she said. You looked between them, confused and barely holding onto consciousness. What did that mean?

"What the hell happened to you?" Joel asked her, his voice laced in disgust.

"I got with the fucking program, Joel! That's what!" she yelled at him before taking a step back, the rifle still aimed at his chest.

The door handle began to rattle violently with all the yelling. You could see it being pushed open a crack from the other side, then hands wrapping around the edge of the door until the lock broke and it finally swung open.

Joel scrambled to his feet and grabbed his revolver from his side while Ellie shouldered the hunting rifle as infected came pouring out, their screams making you wince.

Gunshots rang out, a few infected fell, but Amy's gun jammed and a runner knocked her down. She rolled off to the side and kicked it in the chest, sending it flying backwards right into Ellie, the gun falling from her hands.

You picked up Joel's rifle as quickly as you could in your weakened state, but right as you took aim at the infected's head, you watched its teeth clamp down around her arm. You both screamed, Ellie in pain, you in fear as you lodged a bullet right into the back of the runner's skull, its body falling limply to the side. You dropped the gun to the ground, too exhausted and weak to hold it anymore. Ellie scrambled up and swiped frantically at her arm, watching as the blood trickled out.

"Are you okay?" you asked, reaching out to her. She nodded and looked up at you, her eyes suddenly going wide.

"Look out!"

You ducked just in time to avoid getting hit in the back of the skull with Amy's rifle. She fell forward on her hands and knees, then scrambled to grab Ellie's ankle, yanking her down and pulling her against her chest.

You vaguely heard Joel's gun still firing behind you, taking down infected, when you watched Amy's arm wrap around Ellie's throat, her face going red while she gasped for air. You didn't even think, you just reacted. Ignoring the pain, you surged forward and pounced on top of her, yanking her arm off of Ellie's neck with every ounce of strength you had. Ellie rolled to the side, kneeling and coughing with her hand gingerly touching her red skin while your fingers gripped Amy's neck. She clawed at your hands, panic filling her eyes as she looked up at you helplessly. You put all your weight into it, squeezing with all your might and praying you didn't pass out before ending this once and for all.

In one last ditch effort, Amy dug her thumb deep into your wounded thigh, making you cry out and loosen your grip. She tossed you off of her and you collapsed next to Ellie with a loud thud. Forcing herself to her feet, Ellie stood over you protectively, her switchblade held shakily in her hand as blood trickled slowly down her arm and dripped onto the tile floor next to your head.

The room finally seemed quieter. You chanced a look towards Joel. He was standing on the other side of the room, surrounded by dead infected and panting for air. When he turned to the three of you, you finally noticed the huge gash on the side of his head from where Amy hit him. His blood dripped down his neck and below his collar, his shirt absorbing the dark red drops.

Amy grabbed the rifle you abandoned and swung around, aiming it at the pair of you as she walked backwards. Joel kept his revolver trained on her as he slowly made his way over to your side of the room.

"You just ruined all our chances at having a fucking life again, Joel," Amy seethed, her eyes boring into his.

"Should've thought about that before you took what's mine," he grumbled angrily, standing next to you now. You curled into a ball on the floor, the pain too much to handle.

"If you'd have just brought us the girl in the fucking first place, none of this would have happened and we wouldn't have touched her," Amy retorted, jutting her chin in your direction.

"The hell's so special about the kid?" Joel asked, but before she could answer, a telltale click, click, click echoed in the room, and you all froze. Your one good eye popped open as you watched a clicker stumble from the room in the corner, snapping its teeth and swiping mindlessly at the empty space in front of it.

Joel glanced down at your state, knowing he wouldn't be able to pick you up and get out of there in time. Ellie gripped her knife tightly as she watched the clicker get further into the room.

You could see the look in Amy's eye. She was glancing around frantically, trying to figure out a way to use this to her advantage. But lucky for you all, you thought of it first.

Carefully, you reached out in front of you, your fingers picking up the bullet casing on the floor from when you shot the runner. Before you had time to overthink it, you tossed the casing to the other side of the room, the metal clinking right between her feet.

The clicker turned towards her and shrieked, its arms flailing wildly. Amy panicked and backed up, but her sneakers squeaked on the tile and that was all the clicker needed. You watched as its hands gripped her shoulders to hold her steady while its mouth ripped violently into her neck. Blood gushed everywhere, puddling on the floor and causing her to lose her footing. Her screams reverberated in the room. You covered your ears, trying to muffle the sound until her screaming eventually stopped.

While the clicker was still distracted, Joel snuck up quietly behind it and lodged a bullet in its head, and the room finally filled with silence again.

Joel turned around as Ellie was helping you back on your feet. He noticed the blood dripping down her arm and his body stiffened.

"You were bit," he said, staring at the blood seeping through her shirt. Ellie looked down at it and then looked back up at him, shaking her head and backing away slowly.

"N-no, it's fine, really-"

Joel held up his gun, pain flickering across his face.

"Joel, don't," you said, but he shook his head.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. She's bit, we can't-"

"Put the gun down, Joel, and listen to me," you told him, taking a few shaky steps to the side so you stood between him and Ellie.

His arm immediately dropped when you blocked his shot, and he looked at you with despair in his eyes.

"There's nothin' we can do, I'm sorry kid, but -"

"She's immune, Joel!" you yelled, cutting him off again. He froze, stunned, as his eyes flicked back and forth between yours and Ellie's.

"What?" he finally whispered.

"It's true," Ellie said from behind you, then she pulled up her sleeve and showed him her old bite. "Got it a couple months ago. See? It's all healed."

Joel stumbled back a bit, catching himself on the edge of a table as he tried to follow what was happening.

"Wh- how?"

"I don't know, some people just... are," she said, her gaze dropping to the floor.

"It's why they wanted her so badly. They were trying to use her as a guinea pig to make a vaccine," you added.

"You knew?" Joel asked, looking at you with hurt in his eyes. You nodded, your lip trembling.

"Listen, I would love to tell you everything I know, but can we do it in the fucking car?" Ellie asked, growing impatient. You could tell Joel was still struggling with this new revelation, but he knew you were in desperate need of medical care.

"You so much as twitch -" Joel said, storming over to her now and letting himself trail off.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. Can we go now?"

If you weren't in so much pain, you might have laughed at how cavalier she was about the whole thing.

Joel found a beat up looking wheelchair and helped you into it. He instructed Ellie to push you while he led the way down the hall. He picked up an assault rifle from one of the dead bodies as he made his way to the elevator. You glanced around at the carnage as you waited for the doors to open, then looked up at him by your side.

"Did you do all of this alone?"

He looked down at you, his eyes lingering on your one open eye for a moment before nodding curtly. As you filed onto the elevator, you tried to examine him for any injuries, but aside from the hit to his head and a few minor scratches and bruises to his knuckles, he appeared fine.

The doors opened up on the main level and you gasped. If you thought the basement level was bad, it was nothing compared to the main level. Ellie pushed your wheelchair through the blood on the floor, her footsteps and the wheels leaving imprints as you went. Joel went up ahead to push some bodies out of the way and make a clear path for you to get to the front door.

"Truck's right out front," he said.

"Joel, how did you... do this?" you asked, still hardly believing what you were seeing.

"What'dya mean?" he asked, his hand on the front door, ready to push it open. You looked up at him and swallowed the lump in your throat, unable to comprehend what you were seeing. He let his hand drop to his side so he could kneel in front of you and pinch your chin between his fingers, giving you a gentle kiss.

"I did what I had to do to get you back."

Tag List @nana90azevedo @ninaminaromina @untamedheart81 @taz-97 @nastiasnow @amyispxnk @plz-be-solo @iloveramensm @caitlynsixxx @anoverwhelmingdin @harriedandharassed @jessthebaker @txtattoostark @merz-8 @sarahhxx03 @oscarissac2099 @motherjoel @silas-222 @b3l1nd5 @rocket-raccoon-silvie @missladym1981 @angie2274 @maried01

[lunarduty]

Hi!!can you do tension with gaz???

𝙎𝙈𝙊𝙆𝙀𝙔 𝙀𝙔𝙀𝙎, 𝘼𝙍𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝙁𝙀𝙀𝙇𝙄𝙉𝙂 𝙂𝙊𝙊𝘿?

☾ reader tends to kyle's wounds, and seems to be the only one worried. | [ TENSION ] one muse is patching up the other’s injuries which leads to intense eye contact,  lingering touches and them finally crashing their lips against each other’s. KYLE 'GAZ' GARRICK X F!READER TAGS | f!reader, slight smut WC | 1,127 x

“you know, you’re going to get a scar if you don’t take care of this properly.”

“what? don’t like men with scars?”

in spite of kyle’s attempt to break your composure, a smile did not appear in the wake of his dumb comment. a VALIANT move, on your part - he usually found little effort in getting you to smile. said it would your best feature, and that would only get you to smile more. but knowing that he wasn’t changing the bandages as often as the doctor said, you were able to fight it off.

“not when they’re easily preventable,” you fire back, eyes glancing up to chance a glare. kyle chose the perfect time to give a sheepish tilt of his head to match the SWEET look in his dark eyes - he really couldn’t turn the tactical side of him off. “you could get an infection, you know. price is already looking for a reason to keep you behind on the next mission.”

kyle gives a slight shrug with one shoulder, as to not disrupt your work. “he won’t need to. i heal fast.”

“god, you’re frustrating.”

“and you love it.”

“i love when i don’t have to worry about you getting some weird fucking infection. who knows what you could have picked up in that god-forsaken jungle.” and just for that reason, you give the wound on his arm one final drag of the alcohol wipe to ensure it really was clean. absently, a finger gently caresses the skin around it, as if trying to soothe any pain that the cleaning process might be causing kyle. as much as he can annoy you sometimes, he’s been in enough pain.

a smile is pulling on his lips when you look up, sparing him a glance before turning to retrieve the bandages. “careful, love. i might start to think you care.” he’s teasing, of course. if kyle’s at ease and feels in control, he’s got quite the smart mouth on him - but right now, you wish he wouldn’t. 

“of course i care.” yeah, maybe the words come out HARSHER than you wanted. maybe when you turn back, bandages in hand, you meet kyle’s soft gaze with a hard one. maybe you were entitled to it after he just brushes off his safety so casually. “if the roles were reversed, you’d be just as worried.”

he blinks in surprise at your sudden barrage, and to his credit, seems genuinely remorseful. kyle wasn’t like soap or ghost or even price - you loved all of them, but it seemed their reckless ways were rubbing off on him. getting him to play down his injuries more than he should.

or maybe you were just overreacting. the wound itself wasn’t even that bad. he’s had much worse. so why were you being SO HARD on him?

kyle doesn’t respond, and you silently open the bandage to wrap his arm. without seeing his face, you can’t tell what he’s thinking or feeling. maybe you don’t want to look up and risk seeing something close to frustration or annoyance or even contempt. maybe he thought you were coddling him. maybe you were. maybe…

just as you finished wrapping his arm, right before you tied it off, kyle’s hand covered both of yours. stopping your movements, yet you resist the urge to look up. “i’m sorry, okay? i didn’t know you felt so strongly about this. and you’re right - if you were hurt, i’d be just the same. maybe even worse, since i love you more.”

despite yourself, a snort comes up at his words. light and teasing, even when he’s serious. maybe it’s what you needed. “not possible. i love you more.” finally, your eyes slide up to find his. kyle was watching you, dark eyes STEADY but soft. the sight of them made you feel better about saying what was on your mind. “i guess… i don’t know, it made me start to think about things.”

“like what?”

“like…if you never came back one day? today it was a gash on your arm, but tomorrow, something way worse. something you can’t just walk off.”

“that’s not going to happen, understand?” his hand gripped yours tight, and kyle leans forward to keep your focus on him - ALIVE and breathing and warm. your eyes fall down to his lips. “i’ll always come back.”

you scoff again, not nearly as amused as last time. “you can’t promise that, kyle.”

“i am. right now. so stop making yourself sick with all that nonsense. it’s not something you have to worry about.”

you want to keep arguing. want to point out the growing probability that his luck will run out someday. how many old men come from his line of work? you aren’t given the opportunity to - not when kyle moves his grip to your wrist, yanking you closer and leaving little choice but to swing a leg over his lap. thankfully, he keeps his injured arm still - even if it rests right around your waist, more than strong enough to keep you from escaping.

“you need to rest…”

he smiles, and it’s dazzling and warm and you can’t help but reflect it. “but love, i’ve got something else that hurts. need to kiss it to make it better.”

your hands settle on his shoulders, and when kyle is as solid and warm as he is, it’s hard to recall the last time you had real alone time like this. long before the mission, at least. back on base, after you finished paperwork, and he lured you into his room under the false pretense of having a talk. kyle was the only one talking - it’s hard to speak when he’s three fingers deep in you.

and that simple, DISTANT memory resurfaces like a flash of lightning. you exhale shakily, fingertips curling gently into the rough cotton of his regulation shirt. “let me guess - your lips?” right now, you were fully willing to play into kyle’s dumb game. before he could even answer, you close the gap. lips molding together, muffling your involuntary moan from the simple feel of them. chests pressed close, hips gently rocking because this was the day after an op, and sore muscles love to get in the way of a good reunion.

kyle’s tongue follows the line of your bottom lip, a smile pulling on his own as he breaks the kiss with a pant. his hand squeezes your hip - solid and eager - and you wondered why you were ever so scared about a gash on his arm when he obviously lost none of his strength. 

a low groan comes from his throat. your mouth drops down to taste it. “well, i was going to say my cock, but we can start at my lips.”

[moonlight-prose]

HURT

➝ 05. MIDNIGHT DOVE

a/n: i never thought it would take a year to finally work up the courage to finish this. i swear it's been marinating in my mind for months. life got in the way as it always does, and well shit happens, but i am gradually attempting to return to this world. if you're new here, welcome. if you're someone who has been here since the beginning, then thank you for sticking my horrible productivity out. i swear i won't disappear again. hopefully.

dedicated to: @themarcusmoreno for being an absolute badass fighter as of late. i hope you know how proud i am of you babes and how much i adore you. a special thanks to @sunflowersteves who has been a MASSIVE supporter of this story. i love you babes! and to @soulores who has listened to me ramble about this fic for hours in the hopes inspo would strike again. te amo te amo te amo!!!

summary: joel never made opening himself up to the prospect of love easy, but when it came to you...it felt like taking a breath of fresh air for the first time in years.

word count: 14k+ (i'm fucking insane)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, cussing, fluff, joel attempting to be romantic, ptsd, grief, deep talks (joel opens up), joel finally telling the truth, p in v sex, choking kind of, roughness, biting lots of biting (both kinds hahaha), tad bit of violence, the dangers of falling in love.

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER | SERIES MASTERLIST

It was easy to forget how damaged you were in the midst of his affection. An effortless act to allow yourself a chance to heal as you gave yourself over to him. For brief moments, you weren’t the person who had gone through years of pain, suffered through grief so potent you could taste it. You were the person who could sink into his hold, lose yourself in his touch, and simply exist.

With Joel there was no pain, no reminders of what you didn’t have—what you could never get back—because he took all that away. He gave you the one thing you didn’t know you were searching for. Yourself. In whispered words beneath the midnight sky, you found the reflection you’d been so afraid to look at. You saw the person who had been torn apart by the brutality of this world, by the prospect of death you could no longer run from.

He pieced you back together with his hands, attempting to rid you of all those cracks and crevices where pain seeped out from.

And in doing so, he saved you.

“You used to be a contractor right?” you asked, trying not to huff and puff as you trailed after him through the woods.

Briefly you thought you caught the sight of tall buildings in the distance, but played it off as the sun messing with your eyes again. A few days ago the truck broke down, ruining the quick pace of travel you had gotten used to. Which left you both with one option. Walking until your feet were numb and bloody. You hadn’t missed the energy this took, suddenly yearning for trains and planes—anyway to get to Boston as quickly as possible.

Except you didn’t hate it entirely. The bonus was being able to spend more time with him in secluded areas. You liked studying him by firelight, talking with him underneath the stars. Joel was the one who kept you going in spite of the agonizing effort this took. Thankfully the moments you did run into any infected were brief and quick—simply another crack in the bubble you’d built around yourselves.

Something had shifted between the two of you. Changed the tides of your futures and gave you insight into what might be possible once you got to Boston. You saw hints of a life that you might not have seen before. A future with him. You only hoped that he was seeing the same picture you were.

“Mhm,” he hummed, pausing to let you catch up, his hand reaching for yours.

“Impressive,” you said with a smile, pressing your chin on his shoulder as he leaned against a tree. Giving the both of you a small breather before you started up again.

“It paid the bills.”

“Well yeah. But it’s also a cool job. Getting to build things.”

He grinned, his eyes tracing the shapes and contours of your face. “I guess it was.”

“What made you want to be a contractor?” You caught the way he paused at your question, his eyes unable to meet yours for a brief moment. Joel thought he was able to hide his pain so well, behind an impenetrable mask he never removed. But you saw it.

You were the only one who split it down the middle; revealing the man beneath for your eyes to see.

“Uh,” he mumbled. “It was good work. Kept me stable.”

“Joel? Did I say something?”

He shook his head. “We should keep going,” he said, pressing a light kiss to your temple, his lips lingering a bit longer than usual.

Any other person would play that off as Joel being Joel. Yet you felt the tremor in his chest when he took in a breath. You saw the way he placed another brick in his never-ending wall. One that he didn’t want you to break. Frowning slightly, you walked beside him, glancing to see if he would finally revert back to the man from moments ago, but he was lost to the ravages of his mind.

You knew it would take awhile for him to come back to you. So, you waited. You lost yourself in your own thoughts, watching the birds fly through the trees, the sun peeking through the branches and bathing you in warmth. Thankfully the cold was starting to fade with each passing day. Giving way to the weather you liked most. You wanted to ask Joel where you were—which state you crossed into—but he was still gone.

Reliving the moment he hadn’t told you about yet.

You stopped when the forest gave way to a road and finally caught sight of what was in the distance. Only to realize…the sun hadn’t been playing tricks on you.

Skyscrapers stood tall against the sky, the cityscape so famous and iconic you could pick it out from memory. It was ruined from the past, some buildings had fallen from the decay, but you felt your heart flutter nonetheless. New York City. You’d been traveling through the state this whole time and never knew. Your younger self ached in the back of your mind; the one place you had been striving to get to, now arriving too late.

Yet still…you were there. Staring at what could have been your future once upon a time.

“We’re in New York,” you said, your voice tinged in disbelief. 

Joel seemed to have been brought back by your stunned reaction, his lips pulling up into a small smirk. “Thought you would have liked to take this way.”

You whirled around to face him, your eyes wide with surprise. “But what about infected? Won’t they be—”

“They bombed most of the city when the infection hit. Took out the worst parts first.” He pointed to the direction of where you assumed the Empire State building once stood. “No one has been here for nearly a decade. They tried to have a QZ on the outskirts at one point I think.”

“And how did that go?” Although you already knew the answer. Simply another repeat of every major city in this country.

He sighed. “They wound up bombing that too.”

“So we’re going around?” you asked, knowing that the only safe possibility was skirting the edges of the city. But a part of you hoped that for once you and Joel could pretend to be normal humans again.

People who at one point in their lives…might have taken a trip to New York City.

“Well…” His hesitation caught your attention. “We’re gonna go around as much as we can, but there’s somethin’ there that still survived all this. So if we’re careful. Then it should be alright.”

You felt the breath catch in your chest. A sliver of hope flickering warm and bright through your body. “And if it’s not…alright?”

“Then we handle it,” he replied, his hand shifting to cup your cheek, thumb running along your skin. “Like we always do.” Those words alone nearly made those three words slip free from your mouth. “What do you say Boston,” he murmured, his head dipping down—lips brushing along yours. “Wanna take a trip to New York with me?”

There were infected everywhere you went, never being able to escape them entirely. That alone weighed your answer towards it being positive. Still you were wary about what could happen. What could go wrong in the midst of your happiness? It seemed that life never changed when things were already awful. The worst only hit when you were finally at peace, content with what you had.

You should have said no, should have told him it wasn’t safe, but his brown eyes held a hopeful glint in them. A look that you recognized. For the first time, the both of you were finally starting to heal from the horrid effects of this life. It was a tragedy that would never be written down. A play not yet finished.

Which ultimately made the decision for you.

How did you want things to end? With a smile on your face, spending time with the man you loved? Or alone.

“Lead the way Texas,” you said softly, dropping your forehead to his chest, feeling him kiss your head softly before he pulled away.

The trip to get into the city would take a day or two, which meant that you had to set up camp for the night. At least until the sun rose enough to guide you. Venturing back into the forest with him, you felt the lightness in your heart spread down throughout your body. A sensation that you longed to hold onto.

You couldn’t recall the last time you’d been this happy; the feeling almost effortless amidst the pain and destruction of your past. It nearly overflowed, spilling out into the area around you filled with never ending darkness. Joel’s footsteps were heavy against the fallen leaves. As if he was no longer afraid to make noise. Now that the path was clear, his head focused on one direction, you by his side.

Things had shifted drastically since that night. Since you watched a piece of his walls crash to the ground. Giving you a chance to finally see the man he had once been. The Joel you had only met in fragments—memories you weren’t a part of.

A past that you’d never fully know.

“This is as good a place as any,” he said, dropping the bag off his shoulders and onto the ground beside a tree.

“Should I gather wood?” you asked, following his movements—the routine burned into your mind.

He shook his head. “Not tonight. We’re too close to the city.”

“You don’t think people are insane enough to live there, do you?”

The silence he offered was enough of an answer. Even though you were both far enough away from any signs of life, it still wasn’t safe to assume you were entirely free. You could see Joel grappling with the decision to even go down there, but you knew which side would win the war in the end. One side told him to avoid the place altogether, to keep trekking on until you reached the QZ in Boston. But the other whispered something different.

It beckoned him closer, promising something sweet, a reprieve from the terrors of life that continued to plague both of you. Whatever still remained in that city was enough for him to choose the latter.

“I’ll keep first watch,” he murmured, settling with his back to a tree, rifle placed across his thighs.

“Joel.”

He shook his head. “You need to sleep.”

“So do you,” you replied, in the hopes that he’d relent to you as he had before.

The dark lines beneath his eyes grew with every passing day and you wondered what kept him from sleep. Was it nightmares? The prospect of death around every corner? They were things that were enough to send terror running sharply down your spine, but as long as you’d known Joel he seemed to simply take those things in stride. Refusing to give life the satisfaction of watching him crumble beneath the strain.

Yet now he looked half dead; tired of fighting an infinite battle of fear.

“Come here,” you said softly, hand gripping onto his.

“Darlin’—”

“If you don’t sleep then, so help me Joel I will stay up with you.”

The threat held enough truth in it to spur him into action. You would stay up with him until dawn crested over the city, until you could no longer keep your eyes open. Joel had stamina you didn’t possess. Not anymore. So, he allowed you to guide him forward, his head resting on his pack, rifle placed between your bodies. A safety measure in case the night turned for the worst.

“Shut your eyes,” you murmured, seeing the tension in his body melt away the second your hand pressed to his chest.

He huffed—ever the stubborn man who saved your life—but relented without a fight, his eyes fluttering shut quickly followed by a long exhale. The stars were brighter than you’d seen them; the light pollution of the city, no longer a problem the sky had to combat. So, you shifted, rested your head on his shoulder and watched the stars twinkle in a night sky free from the shackles of humanity.

“You’re supposed to sleep too,” he grumbled, his hand coming up to cover yours, thumb running along your wrist.

“I am.” You smiled at his audible snort.

Silence enveloped the two of you, but it never felt off putting in his presence. In fact you began to welcome it, because with Joel there was always more than just words. His thumb continued to go across your skin, creating a soothing rhythm that lulled you into a docile state. If you shut your eyes and focused on the beat of his heart—the rise and fall of his chest with each breath—you might be able to fall asleep. Except your mind still ran, still on high alert in case of something going wrong.

“Hey,” he mumbled, his head turning slightly until his nose brushed against yours.

“Hm?” You felt your heart skip at the sight of his eyes opening again, the deep brown hue pulling you in.

“What’s goin’ on in there?” he whispered. Joel didn’t need to go into specifics to know what he meant by that. You seemed to pick it up just by the inflection of his words—the tone he used when he spoke. This was no different.

You sighed, wishing more than anything that you could strip your shoulders of the weight they carried. “Nothing. I’m just…it’s nothing.”

“It ain’t nothin’.”

“I’m just…scared,” you said, finally showing a sliver of the truth. He hummed, attempting to show that he understood where you were coming from. “What happens when we get to Boston?”

Because that’s where that gnawing feeling stemmed from. It wasn’t your fear of death, or the terror you felt whenever you thought of Joel dying. No, you were scared of what the future held—what came when this trip finally came to an end. You didn’t want to let him go after everything you’d endured together. For the first time you felt like you found the one thing anyone could hope for in life. A partnership.

He sighed. “We keep going.”

“Together?” There you were laying your hope in front of him, wanting him to give you the answer you longed for.

“Yes,” he replied, watching a smile cross your face—his heart beating a bit faster at the sight. It lit him up on the inside. As if someone injected him with a heaping dose of pure sunlight, claiming it would fix all his broken pieces. Save him from hell.

For a moment you simply watched him, seeing an array of emotions flicker through his eyes. You wanted the night to remain endless. For you and Joel to stay there until the stars burned out above—a safe place with no responsibilities. No fear of death. But you knew eventually you would have to get up and follow him into the city. Boston remained right at the very tips of your fingers, yet getting there felt like a million miles away.

“Joel?” you breathed, bringing him out of his mind and back to the present day.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me something.” You clutched his hand in yours, enjoying the warmth that emanated from his skin. “Anything.”

He turned away, looking up at the sky as he processed your words. And you waited patiently. You found that you’d wait for him no matter how long it took, because it was him and to you…he was everything. He was worth fighting for, worth staying put for. He let out a shaky breath, his grip tightening on your palm until pain sparked in your wrist. You didn’t dare pull away though, too captured by the vulnerability that began to show on his face.

For the first time, he was the glass you couldn’t break.

“I had a daughter,” he said softly, still watching how the stars flickered above rather than the way your face went slack with shock. “Sarah.”

Your breath caught in your throat, eyes falling to the broken watch on his wrist as tears began to fall from your eyes. That night when you asked about it—watched him close up right before your very eyes—suddenly made sense. Why he never took it off, why it was the most precious thing to him.

It was from her.

“She was…well she is the best damn thing in my life.” He shut his eyes, his eyes stinging with the tears that couldn’t fall. You didn’t dare interrupt him. Joel was baring the part he’d hidden long ago—offering it to you in the hopes that you’d take care of it. “Had the prettiest smile and the best—” He took in a breath. “The best fuckin’ laugh you’d ever heard. Made everyone else laugh.”

You smiled, feeling your tears fall onto his shirt. “She sounds amazing.”

“She is,” he rasped, his hand pulling yours up higher on his chest until you could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath your fingers. “On the night of the outbreak. We were tryin’ to get out. But something…” His voice broke, eyes squeezing even tighter. “I couldn’t—and she—”

“Oh Joel,” you whispered, your eyes falling shut as his pain seeped into your heart. It made your whole body scream out and for a moment you wondered how his heart never stopped beating. How had he survived such anguish? How was he still here?

You bit back the sob that threatened to spill free and buried your face into his shoulder, clutching onto his hand to show that you were here. That he could give you this pain to hold and you’d bear it for him for however long he needed. His face turned, a shaky breath leaving his lips as he let the words hang in the air. What more needed to be said? When he had just ripped down the last of his walls.

“I’m so sorry.” The words were a breath on his cheek and you knew they wouldn’t take away any amount of grief. You knew they were simply a band-aid to the gaping wound that would never heal.

He didn’t reply; you didn’t expect him to. So you allowed the silence to fill the air between you, covering you like a comforting blanket. Hiding you from the world until the sun came up. Joel pulled you closer until you practically lay atop his chest, the steady thud of his broken heart echoing beneath your ear. The world had taken so much from him—turned him hopeless—you just never knew the extent of it.

Staring into the darkness of the trees you heard him begin to snore softly, his body now lax beneath you. Except you didn’t move. You remained in the same spot, watching as the world turned a bit darker. The hope seeped out of your body bit by bit now that you understood how much Joel carried—how much he endured.

“I love you,” you breathed, pressing a kiss over his heart, finally shutting your eyes and giving into the soft embrace of sleep.

You woke up to find him gone, his jacket placed strategically over your body to keep you protected from the early morning cold. What you wouldn’t give for a fire to combat the chill that began to seep into your skin. Sitting up slowly, you attempted to catch sight of him through the trees—hoping that he had wandered a bit. But you were left alone with just your pack and his extra gun.

Scenarios began to run through your mind, panic settling in your veins, but you fought against it. You’d been here before. Alone while Joel went off to do who knows what. You knew he would come back—that was a given—but you couldn’t stop the worry from eating at you.

You watched your breath collect in the air as you moved, gathering pieces of wood and rocks to build a fire for a short amount of time. If you were moving today it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to warm up and gain some strength through food. If Joel wasn’t back within the hour you would go out hunting. He’d been generous enough to leave you with a few bullets still in the chamber of his gun.

Which meant he had full intentions of coming back.

The fire sparked quicker than you expected, catching on the brush you packed around the wood and sending heat up towards your face. You couldn’t burn it for long, in case people caught sight of the smoke. Which meant you had to relish in the heat for as long as possible—the stiffness in your body dissipating the longer you sat there.

You watched the orange glow flicker across the wood, consuming it entirely and found you couldn’t tear your eyes away. The sight was familiar—as if you could feel it against your skin with every passing day. Life burned through you with swift brutality and for that mere moment you wondered if it would hurt if you fully sunk into it. Allowed it to destroy you as the flame did the wood that now sat cracked into two pieces—the charred bark falling onto the ground.

A rustling echoed behind you, making you reach for the gun, but the sight of Joel’s graying hair peeking through the woods sent relief flooding through your body. He carried a rabbit in one hand, clutching onto the rifle with the other, and you felt yourself relax just a bit more. Body sinking back into the spot you’d made, legs crossed and hands hovering over the flames.

“Breakfast?” he asked, crouching beside you.

“Don’t mind if I do.” You grinned, pressing your chin against his shoulder briefly, soaking up the warmth of his body.

You couldn’t see his face, but you could feel the smile being pressed against your temple. His lips a soft brush across your skin. If time was kind, you’d be able to stay there. Sitting in the comfort of his presence—the worry that plagued you now pushed to the very back of your mind. It was rare to feel this okay in the comfort of someone else, but Joel made it easy. You wanted to thank him for simply being here, but the words were stuck in your head. Unable to be released.

“How long until we go?” you asked, watching as he cooked the animal over the flames, your stomach clenching painfully.

“Soon as we’re done here.”

The trip into the city wasn’t by any means safe. In fact you were certain it was the most dangerous thing you would attempt in your journey to the Boston QZ. For so long you’d played it safe, but Joel had plans and you would follow his lead wherever he went.

Perhaps it was ridiculous to say you loved him now. In a world where the small hints of anything good were smothered before they could bloom into something more. Except you couldn’t deny what your heart knew was true—what it had been holding onto for months. You loved him. Possibly more than you could ever love someone, and that’s what scared you. Sent a sick feeling into your stomach, your heart twisting violently in your chest at the thought.

Traveling through the city was lethal—a death sentence—but you soon realized it wasn’t the most dangerous thing you could do.

Falling in love in a world intent on destruction was the true risk. Because whether you liked it or not, your entire life could come crashing down in an instant if you lost the man beside you.

Joel was your oxygen. The sole reason you were still alive. You couldn’t lose him.

You both ate in silence, an act that had become sacred to you as time went on. Just a small piece of normalcy that remained—something to remember your old lives by. While you couldn’t necessarily sit at a table and savor the meal. Both of you were content with this. A small amount of peace before chaos ensued once more.

The city called to you—beckoned you closer—and you had to be careful not to give in. There was an unspoken rule in all the traveling you’d had with one another. Joel was the leader in this situation and you were to follow what he said; after all he was simply trying to keep the both of you alive. So you did just that. You waited for him to finish eating and explain exactly how this was going to go down.

“You know…” You picked at the grass beneath you. “I’ve been thinking about what comes next.”

His eyes raised to meet your gaze—the once hardened stare now softened to something you now knew to be familiar. A look he only carried when he was around you. You felt something tug at your chest, warm and inviting.

“I want a home,” you said softly, twirling a dandelion between your fingers. “If that’s a possibility.”

The corners of his lips pulled upwards and you nearly missed the sight. But once you caught it…you couldn’t look away. Joel smiling was a rarity—this you knew to be a hard fact—but when he did the world lit up around him. His smile felt safe. As if he kept every ounce of love given to him in that single look.

“Could be a possibility,” he replied, shifting to where his arm was behind you—his weight leaning on it. “Got a place in mind?”

Heat bloomed beneath your cheeks, small petals of the dandelion flying off. “Nothing too fancy. Big enough for us and…well…it has to be just right.”

Perhaps your mind was playing a trick on you, creating fantastical sights that felt too good to be true, but Joel's smile deepened. A soft light entered his eyes for a brief moment, effectively stealing the breath right from your lungs. He was so beautiful when he smiled. As if he was gifted with it from the gods themselves—his own secret power at the end of the day.

"A house huh."

You nodded, still stunned in place as his smile remained intact. "I miss having a home."

Five words. That's all it took for light to be extinguished like a flame being put out. Sorrow seeped back into his face, his smile faltered, and you felt the world shift beneath your feet. Whatever you said triggered something in his mind. It dragged the memory to the front and forced him to watch with no escape. You know...because you'd been in his place before; you had been a victim to the horror of your own life, privy to the movie that never had an end.

The difference was with Joel you could do nothing but watch.

There was no pulling him out of it, no distracting him, because the memory had already started. So you sat in silence, waiting for it to run its course. Until Joel returned back to you. His smile was gone, face grim once more, and grief stained his soul. But you'd take him any way he was. You'd take him damaged and ruined beyond repair, as he would with you.

"We should get moving soon," he said, voice lower than before, eyes glassy with tears that would never fall.

You let out a breath as your heart sank deeper in your chest. "I'll put out the fire."

He didn't question you or even try to stop you. He simply let you do what you thought was best. Gathering his jacket and gun, he helped you to your feet, the furrow between his brows now set back in place. For a moment...he looked younger than his actual age. A man from the past peeked out, but nothing stayed the same for long.

Nothing good ever stuck.

"Once we get to the edge of the city we'll be out in the open for anyone to see." He slung his pack over his shoulder, handing you a knife to stick in your pocket as an extra precaution for what was to come. "You know I only have one rule darlin'."

Now felt like the perfect time to make a joke—to bring back his smile—but the serious tone of his voice lingered in the air. A reminder that you may be able to take care of yourself on your own, but traveling with Joel now meant you had his life to worry about too.

That alone was something you couldn't risk.

"Follow your lead."

He nodded. "We should be alright, but just in case stick close."

"I will." The idea that you'd stray far from him was ridiculous and he knew it, but the words had to be said. For his own peace of mind.

Somewhere in the middle of the trees there remained an old hiking path. A memoriam of the years that came before, and yet you couldn't picture tourists taking this road. Not even their footprints would survive twenty years of nature. No, this small but distinct path was carved by people traveling towards Boston. You liked to imagine that they made it eventually; that their lives went on in the QZ without issue. But reality always held a harsher reflection than you expected.

Twigs snapped beneath your boots as you trailed beside Joel, eyes set on what remained of the city skyline. Proof that humanity once lived on this planet.

"They'll be deeper inside the city lines," Joel said, dragging your attention away from the ruin. "It's likely there ain't been people for years. But we can’t be sure."

"No reason for activity then?"

He sighed, squinting his eyes against the blaring sunlight. "I'm not sayin' there'll be less. But we might not encounter them much if we’re lucky."

A small amount of relief spread through your chest, pushing against the constant fear that ate at your heart. Devouring it as if you were the meal it had been waiting for. A delicacy of the human body.

"Better than nothing."

He made a noise of agreement, taking the lead and heading deeper into the woods. Eventually they would become sparse, giving the both of you less coverage, until they disappeared altogether. Two decades was plenty of time for nature to reclaim parts of the city, but the cement and stone still remained. A permanent fixture of what used to be in front of you.

The city that used to never sleep, now forced to rest forever.

In the distance you swore you could hear the now familiar screech that haunted your dreams. But it was too far out for you to make out. So you followed Joel, the sun beating down on both of you even through the trees. Sweat stuck to the back of your neck, your fingers slippery on the trigger of your gun. And you both walked in silence—focused on your surroundings. Too anxious to even allow yourselves to whisper.

Yet with Joel it never felt like you were losing time.

How could you? When he was giving back what you lost.

No one else would do this. No one would bother to make sure that you got a chance to visit the city you dreamed about, the place where your future was supposed to be. But he would.

Joel would have given you the sun if you asked him to—if only to see you smile.

Your words from last night continued to rise to the surface, placing themselves on the tip of your tongue, and begging you to open your mouth. Yet as much as you wanted to stand atop the tallest building in the city and shout it from the top of your lungs, you knew you couldn't.

Those words remained hidden in your chest like a wound that could never truly heal. A gaping hole that forced you to bleed out each time you acknowledged its presence.

The sad part was that Joel wasn't the one to rip it open. He was simply someone who managed to stir it awake. He brought it to life with just one look. You started bleeding years ago with loss after loss, until eventually...you stopped trying to close it up with cheap booze and an even cheaper version of what you ached for.

What you needed to sustain you.

"You never told me," Joel said abruptly, shutting down those thoughts within seconds. "About your life."

You smiled despite the effort and lack of breath. "There's not much to tell."

"I doubt that darlin'." He fell into step with you, his hand brushing across yours gently, but even you knew holding hands wasn't a luxury you could afford right now. Not when you'd have to run at a moment's notice. "What was college like?"

Scoffing, you adjusted the strap of your pack. "Parties, hangovers, and lots of coffee."

"Sounds 'bout right."

"Why Joel Miller. Don't tell me you went to college."

He leaned into you, his shoulder hitting yours with enough force to throw you slightly off course. "I didn't. My brother Tommy did. Well...he enrolled."

"Ah yes. The infamous Miller," you joked, grabbing onto his arm to steady yourself.

He snorted, wrapping it around your waist instead. "I wouldn't call him that."

"Then tell me about him."

His eyes met yours, grief still pressing against the light that once was there, but you could see something else linger below. A sense of joy that only came when talking about his younger sibling. A relief that he had family still alive, still around for him to worry about. You knew the fear remained that one day...he might not have that person to worry about, that the world would remain just as cruel as before.

That thought hit you harder than you would have liked—the face of your own brother flashing in your mind. You couldn't save him. Shit, you barely even knew if he was still alive or dead. And that in itself was a different type of grief; a horror you wouldn't wish on anyone.

Least of all Joel.

"He was in the army."

A fallen tree came into view, blocking the path. Joel climbed over it first, grunting as he jumped down, his feet slamming hard when he landed. He took your hand as you went next, helping you go softer than him, checking with a glance to make sure you hadn't snagged yourself on the split wood.

You recall your own brother enlisting, although your mother used to claim you were too young to remember the day he left. But you could make out the hazy images of tear filled goodbyes and hugs that lasted longer than normal. He joined to find purpose. You understood that now.

"Nearly gave our parents a heart attack when he came home with the news." Joel huffed, his hand still clasped tightly around yours. "But Tommy was eighteen. And damn stubborn."

You tried to picture the other Miller as you did when Joel first mentioned him, yet still came up blank. They must look alike. Maybe the same nose, or jaw. No matter how hard you tried though, you could see nothing but a faceless man—a blank slate to the one Joel spoke of so fondly.

"He's younger than you?"

Joel nodded. "By a few years."

The thought of Joel trying to be a good role model for his brother made you smile. You wondered if they ever got into trouble together, if there were stories he might tell you one day when you finally found a safe place to live.

"So...he was the troublemaker of the family."

His gaze slid over to you, eyebrow arching slightly in faux surprise. "I wouldn't say that."

You grinned. “Let me guess…” Joel’s hand tightened around yours. “You were the responsible brother.”

“I had to be.”

“He sounds fun. Maybe I should have met him first.” Glancing to your side, you didn’t see as his face darkened. A look of something wild crossed his face, the painful grip on your hand bringing you back as he yanked you forward. “Joel—”

Unexpected. That is what you continued to feel each time Joel kissed you. Unexpected in his action, unexpected in the feelings he buried beneath the rubble of his heart. You felt yourself stumble into his chest, his lips sliding against your roughly, as he gave into that wild unknown sensation.

A hunger that consumed him quickly. Larger than anything he’d known before.

He exhaled, pulling away with reluctance, and you nearly moved forward to take back that fleeting euphoria. His thumb and forefinger pinching your chin lightly kept you in place. Until you opened your eyes—catching his gaze. Want burned in his iris—turning the deep brown a shade of black—but something darker peeked out, a possessive glint. A promise that you were his.

“Trust me darlin’,” he murmured, lips pulling up into a small grin. Your stomach fluttered rapidly at the sight of his eyes sliding down to your lips—his tongue running along his bottom lip. You wanted it in your mouth. “You’ve got the better brother.”

That remained clear the second you met him. But the tease still lingered in the air. A hint of irritation plucked at Joel’s heart as he thought about you and Tommy instead. If there’s one thing he knew it was this: Tommy would make you laugh as often as possible. He wouldn’t quit until he saw joy overtake the grief on your face. But something told him you needed more than humor.

Even as you looked at him like that—eyes soft and hazy with need—he still felt the innate need to prove himself. To show that he was it for you; that no matter what happened next, Joel was going to be yours.

His face darkened and you longed to peel away the layers of murkiness that hid his true feelings.

But that was the thing about Joel. He’d never show you outright what he kept beneath the surface—not unless he was telling you himself.

His hand took yours again, a small kiss pressed to your temple as he started walking. Towards a future so tangible you could almost feel it between your fingertips. How it ebbed and flowed despite the endless mountain ridges you were yet to traverse.

There was no telling where it dropped off. Where this future finally settled, but regardless of what happened, you’d remain. You would choose Joel over and over again, even if this path led to your death. As long as he was safe—as long as he survived. To you Joel was the only thing you could save—having given up on yourself years ago.

You were two broken souls, but given the chance, you’d piece him back together.

You could see that the path veered back towards the forest, probably to some old forgotten campgrounds. A part of you nearly asked him to head that way, but you stopped before you started. The realization dawned on you quicker than you would have liked. How many people never made it home? How many lost parts of humanity still remained in a place meant solely for joy?

A cold unsettling feeling burrowed its way into your stomach, nausea rising quickly to the surface. Everywhere you looked, death stared back with an empty gaze.

A promise already embedded too deep to remove.

This is how it was always meant to go. This is where it would always lead to.

Joel couldn’t see the terror stricken expression across your face. You were in too deep to ask him for a rescue anyways. So you simply remained. Entrenched in the thick darkness. Yet your feet still moved, your body still complied. He led you closer and closer to the outskirts of the city. And where you expected fear to arise, you found nothing but numbness.

An echo of pain that called out to you. How could you fear what you already knew? The infected were no longer the embodiment of your worst horror come to life.

No, that title now belonged to the man holding your hand so gently in his. Squeezing every few minutes in an act of unconscious reassurance. His fate, his life, it all twisted together until you could barely catch your breath.

He turned to glance at you over his shoulder, his lips curving into a soft smile, the lines around his eyes deeper than before. You nearly gasped as you were yanked out of the darkness, warm air brushing across your face. For those few seconds you felt the sunlight against your face. The worries melted away and this is what you were left with.

Pure broken love.

“Tired?” he asked, oblivious to the way you were drowning.

You grinned, moving closer. “Not really.”

“We got a few more hours.”

Perfect.

You didn’t say it aloud, but you could see the sentiment was reflected back in his eyes. He wanted this as much as you. Where the world only existed in time spent alone. Where nothing could harm you here in your infinite haven with him.

Returning his smile, you squeezed his hand softly, doing what you could to burn the feel of his calloused skin into your mind. Whether it took a few hours or a few days, you didn’t mind. As long as it was with him.

Silence.

That’s all you heard throughout a city once plagued by noise. Where thousands of people used to live—creating the hustle and bustle of the city that used to never rest, now an echoey hollowness remained. At last…the city was asleep. And you hated it.

Life should spill out of every crack and crevice of this place, but there was nothing. You felt as if you should grieve for what once was, but no emotions rose to the surface. Instead you were faced with a bottomless pit of something that once existed.

Joel’s hand was replaced with your weapons, his gun clutched tightly in his own grip. You remained on the outskirts, but that didn’t mean you were safe. If anything you were in more danger this out in the open. There should have been something by now. Yet it seemed that fate had a different idea altogether.

In a way, you were beyond thankful, but uncertainty still remained. A reminder that this would only last for so long. Fate offered what it could, and you took without a second thought. There would never be another chance like this—never another moment of peace.

Sweat stuck to the back of your neck as you walked, eyes scanning the area like clockwork. Joel was a few paces ahead, his body tense, finger on the trigger in case of the worst. You hoped it would never come. Neither of you spoke for fear that whatever remained in the abandoned buildings could hear you. The air was sticky with heat and you felt your body begin to dry out the longer the both of you traveled.

“We can rest up ahead,” he called over his shoulder as if your thoughts were projected to him.

“Do you know where we’re going?”

It’s not that you didn’t trust him—you did—but wandering in the city felt like a risk you shouldn’t be taking more than a trip of enjoyment.

“I’ve got an idea.”

You scoffed. “That’s helpful.”

“Don’t tell me you don’t trust me now Boston,” he drawled with a halfway grin across his face.

“It’s kind of late for that…Texas.”

“No shit.”

You did your best to hold back the laugh that bubbled to the surface, but there was no use. You couldn’t stop it now. Joel looked surprised for a split second, his lips parting into a wide smile, until he began to laugh with you. Deep and rough and perfectly Joel.

This. This is what you ached for most. Joy—no matter how small—in a time where the concept no longer existed. If you could bring that to each other even as you fought to survive then you’d be okay.

In the near distance you could see it, a small section of benches surrounded by nothing but overgrown bushes, flower patches, and trees that would have never been allowed to grow that tall. A sense of elation filled your chest at the sight of a park. So out in the open, so mundane in a city quickly being overtaken by nature. Ivy trailed up the buildings as if that alone kept the ruins together, but you’d never seen something so beautiful.

“I got some food left over,” he muttered, rummaging in his pack as you took a seat on a bench covered by vines. “Nothin’ much, but it’ll work till we dig up somethin’ else.”

You took it gratefully, taking in the area with wonder as you caught every small piece that might show a hint of the past. Shop signs were broken off, rubble scattered through the streets, and abandoned cars were lined up like barriers to the inside of buildings. Perhaps people had come through here before, trapping the infected inside as they made their way through the city quickly.

“Do you remember what it was like?”

He threw a quick glance over his shoulder, catching sight of the coffee shop sign you were fixated on—half of it gone and broken on the asphalt. Everything here had been destroyed over the years. Taken, ripped a part, and left to rot. Yet the cracks in the streets where plants grew told Joel that life still found a way to flourish. Even as darkness and cruelty became the figurehead of humanity.

“Loud,” he said, biting into the dusty granola bar.

You smiled, shifting to make room for him as he joined you on the bench. “So I’ve heard. The city that never sleeps. I guess it was named that for a reason.”

“People were crammed into every corner.” He pointed up to a building in the distance. Surprisingly it hadn’t collapsed yet. “I stayed there. Fourth floor.”

“Hotel?”

He nodded. “Expensive as shit.”

“That tracks.”

“But I had fun.” He grinned, eyes distant as if replaying moments of his past, reliving what it was like to be in this city at the height of its prime. “Tommy wanted to move here. After the army.”

“Did you…want to go with him?”

Joel huffed, eyes falling to his hands as he broke apart the granola bar—anxiety bleeding off his body and seeping into yours. “No. That life was his. Not mine.”

Counting in your head, you tried to calculate at what age Joel might have been when Tommy came home. What might have happened in his life. Until the conversation from earlier came back to you like a fist to your face. Sarah. You tried to picture him as a young dad, raising a little girl, and suddenly the gap between your years and his felt like a chasm you shouldn’t cross.

A split in the ground so deep you could see right down to the center of the Earth.

“And to think,” you replied, resting your chin on his shoulder. “I could have met you here.”

His laugh was shadowed by pain—grief he’d never let you see in its entirety. “You wouldn’t have gone for me.”

“That’s not true.”

“What with you bein’ a fancy museum worker?” He turned, his nose brushing against yours. “Gettin’ you to look twice at me would have taken some effort.”

You smiled, stealing a kiss. “You’re wrong. I’d have asked you out in an instant if I saw you. Maybe…in a bar.” His laugh was soft, raspy as if he’d been shouting for hours. “Or a park.”

“Yeah?” You wanted to keep his smile. “How would it go?”

“Well…” Pulling back, you pressed a finger to your chin, eyebrows pulling together as you pretended to lose yourself in thought. “I’d begin the conversation, because you’re not much of a talker.” He pinched your side, drawing out a laugh.

“And you’d say?”

Forcing your face into a stoic expression, you grasped his shoulders. “Excuse me sir. Are you a fan of country music?”

He snorted, his body shaking as he broke between your palms. Laughing so hard he nearly dropped his granola bar on the floor. If you closed your eyes, you could imagine the sounds of the city in the background. The echo of what could have been reverberating to you through the years.

This would be it. The moment you knew you were head over heels for the man sitting beside you.

This is where you’d start to plan a future.

“And you’d say…of course, I’m from Texas darlin’.” You did your best to morph your voice into his, but couldn’t get through it without smiling.

Joel cupped your chin, tugging your lips close enough to feel them brush across his—your heart now beating an unsteady rhythm in your chest. “Of course.”

“And I’d say…that’s funny. I’m from Boston.” Sadness seeped into your heart when he looked at you like that—as if you were the only person to exist on this planet. His hope. His lifeline. “And the rest is history.”

He pressed his lips against yours, stealing a kiss soft enough to crack off another splinter of your heart. “I like that version of history.”

“Me too,” you breathed, biting down hard on your bottom lip to keep the sting of tears at bay.

You could feel the pain in your feet begin to shoot through your lower back. Traveling steadily with each step. From what you could tell, the sun was dipping into mid afternoon, still early in the day, but late enough to cause worry. Staying in the city past nightfall didn’t bode well for either of you. Yet somehow…you were traveling deeper into the maze of fallen buildings and broken roads.

“Joel—”

He stopped in the middle of the road, his back straight and shoulders tense. You braced yourself for the worst, hands grabbing tightly onto the weapon clutched to your chest. A small chirp of birds sounded in the distance, animals echoing their sentiments back to the broken world around them. Yet nothing sounded dangerous enough to cause worry.

“What is it?”

Glancing back at you, he threw you a cautionary smile, head tilting as if to say join me. 

So you followed his instruction. Stepping around the cracks in the street to stand close, facing him as he looked at something behind you.

“We’re here.”

Confusion lined your face, worry filtering through your chest. “Where’s…here?”

“Turn around.”

His hands grasped your shoulders, shifting you until you were staring at the building he was. And for a moment you nearly laughed; claimed it was a good joke walking you nowhere. Only for your eyes to catch sight of the cracked and broken steps before you. Weeds grew between what still remained and the front was blown to shit, but you’d recognize this building even with your eyes closed.

The final destination in the path of your old future.

“The Met?” you whispered, eyes wide in awe at the sight of such a grand building torn to bits.

He pressed his lips to your ear. “Thought you might want to see it in person this time.”

Those three words you uttered last night, barely spoken at all, suddenly felt too small to describe the depth of what you felt. You didn’t just love Joel. You would die for him. You’d take any pain he harbored and carry it as your own. And you’d do all this…because he’d do the exact same for you. Love felt too little in the grand scheme of things.

How could you simply love someone who would bring you the future and lay it at your feet?

“Is it safe?” Your voice was barely above a whisper, tinged by awe.

“Probably not.”

“So we could die?”

“There’s a good chance.”

You smiled, tangling his hand in yours. “I think it’s worth it.”

“Yeah.” He squeezed your palm softly. “I do too.”

Carefully he led you up the steps. A walk that felt surreal after years of dreaming this exact moment. You knew one day you’d get here. Whether that was with a degree and a resume in your hand, or holding the hand of a man who saved you. You didn’t care, because finally…there you stood.

Ivy crawled up the sides of the building, the doors were no longer attached, and you felt as if you were walking into a different universe. The entrance that you’d seen in brochures and pictures somehow looked prettier this way; slowly being captured by the hands of nature. As she shifted the land of humans to her point of view.

The almost crystalline marble shone differently in the direct sunlight. Glancing up you caught sight of the hole in the ceiling. This building must have been affected by the bombing.

“I remember this part,” he said suddenly, an awestruck expression painted across his face. He looked like a young man again, taking his first visit to this grand old museum.

“This is called The Great Hall. And it was Richard Morris Hunt that was the architect on the project. One hundred years ago. Well give or take a few years.”

A stream of words left your mouth without a single thought. Explanations of the different parts that once existed, the historical references for how they were built. And for a moment you felt nineteen again. Fresh out of an art history class; the knowledge once again at the forefront of your mind.

All the while Joel watched with a glint in his eyes, silent to what you had to say, yet focused entirely on you. The museum wasn’t important to him. Hell he barely gave a shit about what used to be here. But something changed in your demeanor as you spoke about art and the history attached to it. You bloomed before his very eyes.

You came alive.

“I wonder if a few of the paintings are still around,” you murmured, eyes averting to one side of the room. “Could we…”

He nodded, readying his gun. “We can try.”

You expected this place to be crawling with infected. At least a few here and there, yet nothing but silence greeted you with each new room you entered. It became unnerving after a while. As if fate was waiting to drop the other shoe, tearing apart something already special.

Hesitation lingered in each step you took, fear crawling along your nerves like a spider, until you entered a room filled with paintings torn apart. Once upon a time it was a gallery, yet now the delicate pieces of history were nothing but a reminder of what happened.

Tucked away on a side wall, you found a painting still hanging. A small crack went through the top corner of the glass covering it, but as a whole the piece remained pristine enough to make out.

“You know that one?” he asked, following your quick pace through the room.

“Allegory of the Planets and Continents.”

“Allegory huh?”

You nodded. “Painted by Tiepolo in…1752.”

“I can’t say I’ve heard of him.”

“He did a lot of allegorical pieces.” You tilted your head, eyes tracing the intricate details that were nearly lost to time. Joel did the same. “I remember seeing this in a class presentation.”

He hummed, his gaze finding its way back to you. “And what does it mean?”

“A number of things really.” You pointed to the center. “That’s Apollo. And those are the gods as a representation of the planets. Mars, Jupiter, Venus. You know.”

“And them?”

You sighed. “Humanity.” His hand found its way towards yours, fingers twining together as you stood there. Alone in a museum together. “They’re waiting for Apollo to take to the skies and bring about the sun.”

“Seems like a lot of work for a God.”

The smile that crossed your face made Joel’s chest tighten. “I guess it was. Although it’s strange. Back then people were waiting for the sun and now…well now we wait for death.”

Pain flared in his heart quickly and without warning. But he did his best to force it down, steadying himself in your hold. Oh how he wished he could tell you the truth. About the past he had yet to accept as his own. About the bullet that never met its mark—the hand that remained unsteady even now.

“We should go soon,” you said, pulling him out of his own mind, and he nearly thanked you. “The sun will be going down eventually.”

He nodded. “Go out the way we came.”

It hurt to say goodbye to a building you’d never been in before. But that’s not where the pain stemmed from. You’d said goodbye to the prospect of what if a long time ago. You had to. This was from losing such a precious moment with Joel—a memory you’d hold onto for as long as you could. For that time…you were simply two people wandering the halls of a museum together. Finally on a date after so long traveling.

Maybe if you had met years before in a bar or in a park. You wouldn’t have to say goodbye.

The sunlight felt different back on the steps, brighter, crueler. As if Apollo was mocking you for such a small hope, such a small dream come to life. Yet even now you couldn’t blame him.

You headed back the way you came through the city. But your feet were weary, your body drooped with each step, and eventually you’d collapse on the asphalt just as the buildings once did. Joel could tell with each look he threw your way, checking to make sure you were in fact following him. He wouldn’t have put it past you to remain in that building.

To make a home with history.

“We can’t sleep here,” he said, pausing to let you catch your breath.

“I know. My feet just…”

He nodded solemnly, squinting against the sunlight. “Wait here.”

“Joel?”

There was no time to question his actions, because you were out of breath as it was, and he was moving further away quicker than you expected. Standing there in the middle of the street wasting sunlight turned your insides with every second that passed. Your eyes caught sight of him turning a corner before he vanished entirely from your sight. And you held onto the thin shred of sanity you had left in your body.

You trusted Joel. A fact truer than anything you’d known in your life.

So you waited, watched your surrounding areas, and held your breath. 

If you weren’t so unnerved by the silence, you might have found it enjoyable. Some peace before the two of you went in search of a QZ that may no longer be there. That thought never occurred to you—traveling with Joel kept you distracted enough to where you didn’t focus on the important things. The question that now picked at your heart.

What were you supposed to do if the QZ wasn’t there? Where would you go?

Blind faith is all that kept you going, but that never seemed to be enough. In the end you were left with nothing but disappointment. You’d run all out of faith when it came to the fates. The still healing wound on your side was proof enough of that.

The echo of dried leaves cracking beneath feet signaled to you that Joel must have returned. Whatever he was looking for must have been a bust. The smile on your face and tease right on the tip of your tongue died in moments as you turned. A rock falling to your stomach, filling you with dread.

Dried blood caked down the side of their face. A deep red now a rust brown; a stark contrast to the green moss that covered their torn clothes.

Every time you saw one you felt the punch to your gut grow stronger. As if lead embedded itself in your flesh. Again. Your breath came in short, eyes stuck staring at what was once a person. They stumbled forward, body twitching with every stunted shift. And you wanted to scream. Shout for Joel, but your mouth sealed itself shut, your body rooted to the ground beneath you.

The whole time you were aching for life to return to this city, you forgot. Life already existed here. Mangled and rotting and steeped in death.

But life nonetheless.

They turned, eyes glassy and empty, but somewhere in the depth of them they recognized that you were alive. Your heart pounded against your chest, louder than their fucking screech. It pierced right through your skin, a slice to the already existing wound.

You clutched Joel’s gun, finger sliding along the trigger. It was easy enough to pull, to set the bullet flying towards its mark. And you should have pulled it, should have watched as they dropped, but like an idiot…you hesitated.

Why the fuck did you hesitate?

A pause of silence filled the space, echoing louder than any gun could have, before time slowed before your very eyes. How fucking stupid of you. To think you’d be safe. They clocked your shift back, head twitching, before that horrifying click you’d come to hate echoed in your ears. You were dead the second they started to run, limbs flying and body thrashing, as if the control stemmed to one part.

One sole purpose.

Infect.

“Fuck!” you shouted, ignoring the ache in your feet as you sprinted in the direction Joel disappeared to. If you were lucky he was still there.

Yet life had a way of proving to you that luck had nothing to do with why you remained alive.

“Joel!” You gasped for breath, doing what you could to ignore how they sped up behind you, their screech somehow louder as it echoed off the buildings around you. “Joel!”

If you could get the upper hand you could put a bullet in their skull, but your thought process happened too late. Glancing over your shoulder, you were blinded by their body launching at you. Toppling you to the ground as they scratched for your face, any part of you they could sink their teeth into. You don’t remember screaming, or even calling Joel’s name. You simply fought. You tugged on the loose thread of pure fucking rage that called your name—screamed for you to do survive.

“You piece of shit!” you yelled, managing to hold them off with your forearm, your fingers grappling for the knife attached to your side. “You fucking animal!”

“Boston!”

Yanking it out, you nearly cried in relief as you jammed it into their neck, shoving it in deep enough to hear a crunch as it met bone. Satisfaction pulled at your chest. You didn’t stop there. Dragging it out, you sliced through their shoulder, their throat, any part of them you could reach. Until you were no better than the monster that now lay above you. Lifeless.

Hands came out of nowhere, grasping onto their corpse and shoving it off you. You nearly took a swing at the person above you, the red fury blinding you to anything that could have existed nearby. The feral piece of your heart—the survivor—had been set in motion and they called for blood.

Joel’s hands yanked the knife out of your clutch, his voice calling your name, and for a moment you felt lost to the depths of your own fury. You would have killed him if he wasn’t fast enough to dodge that knife.

“Boston!” He pressed you to the ground, his body sitting on your waist, hands keeping your wrists together. “Baby it’s me.”

The breath in your lungs escaped in a sharp gasp, your body stilling within seconds. Only a few times in your life had you succumbed to that raw emotion that scratched and clawed at your chest. Some days you claimed it kept you alive. Others you ignored its existence in the hopes that it would disappear for good. It was the darkness you refused to see—the one thing you wouldn’t accept about yourself.

“You’re okay,” he mumbled, releasing the hold he had on your hands in order to cup your face. “It’s dead. It’s gone. You killed it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “Why…did you leave?”

Leaning forward he pressed his forehead to yours, his breath hot across your chin. “I’m sorry darlin’. I keep doin’ that.”

Inhaling his breath, you did what you could to regulate your heart. “And I keep nearly dying.”

He grinned, pressing a kiss to the corner of your lips. “Nearly. Not if I got a say in the matter.”

Dirt covered your back as he helped you to your feet, and before you could shake it off, he brushed his hands along your body. Patting it off as best he could. The act shouldn’t have brought tears to your eyes, it shouldn’t have even been noteworthy. But the tenderness behind his touch reminded you what you could have lost.

“I want an explanation,” you said, your voice thick with tears. Thankfully he chose to ignore it.

“I found somethin’.” He pointed to a shop that held no sign, no indication that it was anything before this. “You might like it.”

You struggled to put the knife back in its place—still wary and on edge. “This better be good Texas. I didn’t almost die for nothing.”

Joel didn’t respond, but you caught the flash of something crossing his face. Dark enough to cause worry. And you wanted to ask, to prod and poke at what he was keeping to himself, but the way his fingers tightened on his gun told you enough. He didn’t like to think of you that way. Dead on the ground in a city that he brought you to. A trip that was meant to be filled with joy.

“Follow me,” he stated, pushing open that already broken door.

You half expected to see a shop, something frivolous from the past, but the sight of a garage nearly stopped you in your tracks. A dusty brown cover cloaked something in the middle, but the shape was familiar enough to light up your chest. A car. Joel tugged at the cover, kicking up dirt and whatever else lay atop, but you couldn’t care less.

It’s once beautiful dark red color looked aged with however long it had been here. Never one to know cars, you simply knew that it was expensive—a thing that would have cost the entirety of your tuition at one point.

“How…” you breathed.

“Saw the logo on the window,” he replied. “I figured it was a hardware store until I came in.”

“Does it work?”

He shrugged. “Probably not.”

You deflated slightly. “Can we…fix it?”

The sun was going down faster than you would have liked and Joel knew it. He could see how you were both losing time the longer you were there. But the prospect of having an escape kept him on the edge. His grim expression made the choice for you as you moved to pop the hood. Your bag, now discarded on the floor by his feet.

“I don’t know much about cars—”

“Lucky you got me.”

“Don’t tell me. You’re a contractor who knows cars?”

Joel huffed. “Someone had to help my brother fix up his shitty truck.”

The words were good enough for you as he moved you out of the way, ducking down to peer at the engine. His shirt tugged up his back as he leant forward, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat. If it were any other time and the prospect of this car working didn’t depend on life or death, you would have sat back and admired him.

But the edge from earlier still ran through your veins, adrenaline the only thing that kept you upright and stable. Joel worked silently, cursing under his breath every now and then. Only speaking to ask for certain tools. And you watched the sun begin to dip lower. Suddenly you found yourself regretting never taking auto shop in high school. Choosing wood shop over it in a heartbeat.

“Turn her over,” he said, wiping the sweat away from his neck. You felt warmth pool in your stomach at the sight.

Jamming the screwdriver into the ignition, you turned it slowly, hope cresting at the top of your chest. Only for the sputter of an engine to die out in seconds.

“Shit,” he muttered, glancing back at the work he’d put in. “The battery ain’t dead yet and I fixed everythin’ else. Try again for me darlin’.”

You repeated the motion, pressing down on the gas pedal, clutching the wheel in your hand. Whether it was you attempting to force life into the car, or sheer fucking luck, you’d never know. But the echo of the engine roaring to life flooded you with enough relief you fell back into the seat with a smile.

“Joel?”

He looked up, a smile of pride across his lips. “Yeah baby?”

“Let’s get the fuck out of New York.”

Nodding, he tossed your bag into the backseat as you let him slide into the driver's seat. “I like the sound of that.”

The calm of the forest welcomed the both of you with open arms. As if promising the rest you ached for desperately. Miles and miles of trees—of different shades of green and brown—were softly illuminated by the sun steadily dipping in the sky. In an hour or less night would be upon the world and this day, no matter how special, would have to come to an end.

You tried not to think about it; the idea of having to say goodbye to something you’d cherish. What would keep you going if Joel and you were to ever part. What you wouldn’t do to keep the sun in the sky for a while longer. Give up a few years of your own life, of the future you planned with hope filled eyes and empty hearts.

If staying here—in this moment—was an option, you wouldn’t hesitate to jump at the chance.

Joel slammed the trunk of the car shut, a small box of cans he found buried in the back of the garage, clutched in his hands. Despite the prospect of all this eventually ending, you caught the hint of a smile on his lips. Barely there, yet bright enough to light up your heart like a match being struck.

You found yourself smiling back—heart hammering loudly in your chest.

“We’ve got…” He raised a can covered in dents and coated in a thick layer of dust. “‘M gonna assume it’s soup.”

“Lovely,” you laughed, your face twisting up in disgust as he tossed it to you.

The dust was sticky beneath your fingers, as if something had spilled across it years ago. You figured it was best not to question more than necessary. Settling on the ground, you plunged your knife into the cover, taking a hesitant whiff of something probably expired past saving. Much to your surprise though, a pungent scent of tomatoes greeted you.

“Raviolis,” you exclaimed, delight scrawled across your face.

You wished you could have seen Joel’s eyes go soft, seen the way he practically melted at the expression of joy you wore. Joel Miller remained hard as stone to the rest of the world, but in moments like this, when peace was prominent and life gave way to something other than pain. He allowed himself to feel. For a bit…he was the man he might have been a decade ago.

“Good enough for me.”

Prying the lid off, you watched as he set up stones for a small enough pit. You were far enough in the forest that it would take people several hours to get to you. Far enough away from civilization of any kind. What remained in the city, the bits and pieces left behind, would never be enough to build what used to exist. Like it or not…that part of the world had come to a close.

The chapter sealed and signed off with enough blood to keep it shut forever.

“Thank you,” you said softly as he struck a match from the small box you kept in your pack. “For today.”

He grinned, glancing down at his hands that fiddled with a stick. “Was nothin’ really. You wanted to see the city and we were heading this way—”

“Joel.” Cupping his face, you shifted his shining brown eyes until they were upon your face. Gazing at you with a look he’d never shown you before. “You gave me a day I’ll never forget.” He chuckled, grasping onto your waist gently. “Thank you.”

Those two words didn’t seem like enough to get your message across. You wanted to do the same for him. To give him something he’d remember, but nothing felt enough.

He pulled you closer. “Would have been better if you didn’t get attacked.”

“Well…” You looped your arm around his neck. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose you.”

Something shifted in the air between you the second he led you up those cracked and broken museum steps. The front of the building had been blown clean off by bombs, but you’d recognize it anywhere. The place where your future once led to. A home in your heart for so long. A dream not yet come to life. Joel took care to lead, to put himself in harm's way to keep you safe. But it was more than that.

He gave you time to look.

To take back a part of your past you never got to have.

An act that he’d never be able to do. He couldn’t go back, couldn’t take anything from his past that hadn’t already been destroyed. The watch on his wrist was all he’d keep. But you…he could give this to you. He could heal something in your heart you didn’t even realize was broken.

“I’d do it again,” he murmured, lips sliding along the inside of your wrist, nose pressed to your palm.

Your heart ached for him; body burned for him. And in the lowlight of the sun, you found your hope in him. It glimmered softly, barely within reach, but Joel had kept it for you all this time. He made sure to protect what you couldn’t—what you had given up.

“Kiss me,” you whispered, catching his quickly darkening gaze. “Please.”

The crackle of the flames couldn’t hide his small groan of pleasure as his lips met yours. What he intended to be soft, reverent in a way he’d never been before, shifted rapidly. His hand slid up your body, fingers wrapped gently around your throat to keep you in place. To help him devour you a bit deeper. That alone sent a flutter to rush through your entire body, your fingers digging into his wrist, silently begging for him to press down tighter.

To cut off the air he exhaled into your lungs.

“You got no idea—” He sucked in a breath when your lips met his throat, teeth nipping at the salty skin. Red bloomed beneath the surface as you went, small marks and bruises to prove that he wasn’t dreaming. That this trip was real—that you were real.

He growled, fingers tightening around your throat to pull your lips back to his, a rough breath exhaled into your open mouth. “No idea what you do to me darlin’.”

Sticky warm wet heat spilled into your stomach, flooding your already damp panties. The can was forgotten on the edge of the pit, his touch far more enticing than a few meager pieces of food. If you could survive on one thing alone, you’d want it to be him. You would train your body to sustain itself on his touch, his tongue sliding along yours, his fingers digging into your skin.

He’d become your oxygen, your reason for living.

“I-I do.” You gasped as his teeth dug into your throat, hands quickly stripping you of your flannel. Helping him, you yanked at your shirt, discarding it to the side. Nothing mattered but the feel of his tongue tracing along your skin—the hot mix of his touch and spit made you dizzy. “You do the same to me.”

A soft grunt was muffled into your chest, his hips rising up to grind against something. To gain what little friction he could.

In the midst of kissing him, he managed to drag you into his lap, your knees pressed to the forest floor on either side of his hips. Your body, as close as you could get with clothes in the way. You could feel the heavy press of him against your thigh and clenched around nothing. The needy emptiness that slammed into your body was nearly too much, but you held onto what little fragments of sanity still remained.

You clung to the bits of yourself he wished to consume, knowing the consequences of what might come afterwards.

But how could you give a fuck about consequences when his touch lit you up like the fire to your left? How could you care about anything else? When his lips wrapped around your peaked nipple and sucked at it as if you were his source of life.

His hands slid up your back, skin hot wherever he touched, as he pulled you down into his lap a bit more. Enough to feel the familiar press of his cock straining against his jeans. The sun was nearly gone now, light bleeding through the branches of the trees, and you let the warmth consume you. You relished in its burning caress as he worshiped your skin with his mouth, his hands that had spilled blood for you.

“Need to be—” He bit off with a sharp moan as you rolled your hips down, giving him the pressure he needed. “Fuck keep doin’ that.”

You were desperate for him and you weren’t afraid to admit it to yourself. The infatuation bordered on obsession, but if you were to say that about him he’d finally have to admit the same to you. He’d have to crack open his chest, bleed through your fingers like sand, and allow you to dig your way to his heart. As if you were conducting an autopsy on his body—picking a part each dark piece that he was ashamed to hold onto.

“Touch me,” you whined, digging your fingers into his hair as he dug his into your hips. A burning bruising touch that left you needy.

He grinned, pulling at the button of your pants. “I am touchin’ you darlin’.”

“You—fuck, fuck, fuck—” His fingers slid through your slick, finding their way to the parts of you he’d memorized in such a short time. Your clit practically throbbed beneath his touch, body shuddering as he circled it with enough pressure to electrify your nerves. “Yes.”

“That’s what you want?” The question was irrelevant. He knew this better than you, but that wasn’t what he was asking.

Is this enough? This quick fuck beside a fire as you both hid the real reason. Was his touch, his kiss, enough to show the truth?

Was he enough?

You choked out a soft yes, your lips finding his in a sloppy spit slicked kiss, and his fingers became insistent in their determination to watch you break. Joel had become addicted to the sight. His very own guilty pleasure—yet how could he feel guilty about something so angelic? How could he repent for a sin that he’d give up everything for? What was the point of worshiping at an altar when heaven existed between your thighs?

Eventually his fingers wouldn’t be enough. For either of you. But he was focused on one thing, feeling your pussy spill along his palm. He sunk two fingers into you knuckle deep and smiled as your head fell back, a throaty moan echoing off the trees. You grinded against his hand, fingers tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. And this was enough.

“Prettiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he murmured, hand still placed around your throat. His cock leaked as it constricted with your swallow and images of what he’d look like in your mouth flashed in his mind.

“M-More—” You gasped, your clit dragging along the heel of his calloused palm.

But you had begged for something else and Joel was never one to deny you. He ripped at your pants as you did the same with his, your lips messy and rough against his. You swallowed his moan the second your cold hand wrapped around his throbbing cock—precum sliding down your palm as he did his best not to finish there and then. He was so fucking wound up that this would be over before it began.

Neither of you cared.

“You’ve gotta know,” he rasped, gripping onto your bare hip as you hovered directly over his cock. Your pussy practically dripped onto him.

“Know what?” you sighed, sliding him through your slick.

He squeezed his eyes shut to the sight of you. The shine of firelight and sunlight played against your skin and Joel felt his body tighten painfully. The view alone nearly made you double over in pleasure, your breaths coming in short gasps as he fought to finish on the front of your pussy.

“That I—” He gasped as you began to sink down onto him, encasing him that sticky heat he’d begun to think was the cause of his demise. He’d never be able to live without this. Without getting to carve his way into your body. “Fuck darlin’.”

You grinned, cupping his chin and pulling his attention back. “I’ll go slow.”

“You don’t have to take it easy on me.”

“Seems like I might.”

A rumble started in the base of his chest, lips curving up as he caught your mouth in a searing kiss you felt down to your toes. The grip on your throat tightened as you began to move slowly, letting him pull out of you slow enough to cause madness to rise in your chest. Like a burn you refused to let go of. Joel had other ideas. He yanked you down with enough force to drag out a high pitched cry from your chest, your mouth falling open in a silent scream when he set his own pace.

Quick and fast and filthy enough to sign your name on hell’s roster. He wanted to fuck himself into your body so deep he was buried there. Wanted to paint your insides until you were leaking him all morning. He wanted to etch himself into your soul.

Permanent and without shame.

“C’mon darlin’.” His teeth dug into your jaw, pain slicing through the pleasure deliciously. “Let me hear ya.”

You curled into him, meeting him thrust for thrust as he pounded up into you. “‘S good,” you gasped, coherency going right out the window.

He grinned, tugging at your throat. “You can do better than that.”

Words faintly entered your mind before disappearing seconds later as he tilted your hips slightly. You scratched at his chest when his cock struck right where you needed him. Right where your mouth began to form words you fought so hard to keep at bay. Words that revealed too much, gave a window into your heart, and if you had the capability you’d shut your fucking mouth. But it was far too late for that.

“You like that?” he groaned, teeth digging into his plush bottom lip as he kept the angle. The veins on his neck were strained, begging for you lick at them, and you dipped down to distract yourself from the words.

The one thing that seemed to catch his attention.

“What was that?”

You whined, wrapped an arm around his neck as you dragged your hips along the coarse hair at the base of his cock. “Nothing,” you mumbled, sucking at his neck.

Only for him to pull you off by your throat, his lips hovering over yours. “What’d you say?”

“I—” You clung to him, begging for the truth to sink back into your chest. But he was staring at you with dark eyes and a parted mouth begging for you to kiss it. He looked at you as if you were ethereal and for that small moment, you believed it. “I love you.”

He sucked in a sharp breath, his hips stuttering in their movement. You watched his eyes go wide, understanding finally dawning across his features, and you prepared yourself for the worst. You waited for him to reject you. The words never came. He pulled you into a kiss, tongue sliding along yours, as he sped up his thrusts. Grunting into your mouth with each one—his body taut and begging for release.

“Yeah?” he panted into your mouth. You nodded, feeling the burn of pleasure begin to flash white behind your shut eyes.

“So much,” you sobbed, tears spilling down your cheeks. Something pulled tight in your stomach, building with each stunted move of his body against yours. You needed it, would beg on your knees for it, and Joel was right there with you.

His dark gaze met yours as he finally released your throat in favor of finding your clit. “Say it again.”

Heat rocketed up your spine as you locked down around his cock, his fingers insistent and rough. “I love you!” you cried, trembling in his hold. Those three words you’d been so afraid to say out loud finally spilled free over and over and over again. Until you couldn’t hear them anymore over the loud rush in your ears.

He slammed his hips up one last time, lips finding yours in a bruising kiss, and found his own peak. Spilling into you with a moan, his arms wrapping around your waist to keep you pressed up close. You wondered if he feared you’d vanish before his very eyes.

“I love you,” he sighed, his forehead pressed to yours, eyes shut to your own wide gaze.

The words didn’t register at first, simply flying directly over your head. Yet as silence wrapped around your entwined bodies, sunlight disappearing over the last of the trees, you finally understood. No orgasm could match the absolute bliss that filled your body at the echo of his voice forming those words. Of their soft cadence. He was hesitant to look at you, to face what could finally break him, but your hands cupping his face drew him out of his own mind.

“Say it again,” you whispered, smiling so bright your cheeks ached. “Please.”

Before you could bask in their beauty, he was pulling away. Digging into his pack that lay behind him. You wanted to stop him, bring him back to this current moment, but the glint of something gold caused you to freeze. The breath once again caught in your chest.

For the first time you saw Joel grow nervous. Almost bashful as he lifted his hand and allowed a small green jewel on a gold chain to dangle between the both of you. The last of the sunlight glinted off the emerald and for some reason it reminded you of him. How it shone in those rare moments when light caught it just right. Yet held a darkness to it, a hidden truth yet to be revealed.

“I love you,” he said, pressing the necklace into your palms. “I always will darlin’.”

Tears dripped onto his hands as you clutched the dainty piece of jewelry to your chest. “Oh Joel.”

“It’s not a ring—”

You silenced him with a tear filled kiss, salt spilling across his tongue. He did what he could to wipe them away, but like it or not there seemed to be no end in sight. Not when your heart finally latched onto all those broken pieces you thought were lost. Joel did the one thing you never thought possible. He healed you.

“It’s enough.” You smiled into his kiss, the necklace digging into your palm—carving its shape into your skin. “You’re enough.”

You could see it now. The path your future led to. Not a building, or a job, or even a home. The end of your path—your grand plan—would always and forever lead to him.

[hausbabylon]

treacherous

Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Word count: 6,994

A/N: Hey! I received an anonymous request, but I accidentally deleted the draft where I directly responded it. The request said pretty much what says in the synopsis. Thanks to whoever sent it, made me happy <3! I hope you like it.

A/N II: Also, it’s 3:27 AM and I wrote this half asleep whilst listening Red TV three times in a row.

Warnings: Unspecified legal age gap (Natasha is older), mention of guns, manipulation, intrafamiliar abuse, trust issues.

Natasha Romanoff struggled with trust issues due to past relationships. Her fear of being hurt overshadowed any chance to open herself up to the possibility of a relationship. That was, of course, until she met you.

Hydra was a group of evil masterminds with a mission to take over the world, employing advanced technology and weapons to achieve said objective.

It hurt you too much to even think about the fact that you were part of it all, for ever since you were incredibly young, you were the victim of experiments and ruthless training to basically turn you into another of their deadly weapons.

You were just a little one, desperate to get your adoptive father's approval, and deep down, you still were, despite the fact that you were a young adult now. However, no matter how hard you tried, he always seemed disappointed in you, and you were willing to do anything to make him proud.

That's what you thought, of course, until you couldn't take it anymore. So much spilled blood, uncountable innocent lives lost, all in the name of greed and evil. You switched sides, and betrayed the organization you once called home.

You didn't know how many hours you spent hiding in one of the lockers from the Hydra facility that was attacked by the Avengers, while you listened to the tragedy happen outside this cold little compartment. You were supposed to be the main counter-attacker, and you were expected to kill at least one of them in order for the others to back off for a few months.

However, it was too much. As you fought them, the dilemma you found yourself in was too much to bear; you wanted to make your adoptive father proud, but you also wanted them to win because you repudiated every aspect that made up the twisted organization which you were unfortunately a part of.

So, as you walked down the corridors to attack one of them, you simply stopped dead in your tracks and went to hide instead. Until you heard nothing, only a silence that was somehow deafening, while intrigue kept eating you out - had good won over evil again?

When you kicked the door of the locker so you could get out, the first sight you encountered was the Black Widow, who got startled when she saw you and immediately pointed a gun at you. Your first instinct was to raise your arms.

Your face was streaked with tears, for you had sobbed desperately, fearing what your father would do when he found out you had failed this mission, but you were also drowning in shame for your actions.

And you didn't need to say anything, Natasha knew everything as soon as she saw you in that disconsolate and defeated state. You didn't want to do any of this, you desperately wanted to be good.

The Avengers welcomed you with open arms, and as you stood beside them, fighting for what was right, you finally felt you were part of a family, where your efforts were seen and appreciated, something you never felt with Hydra.

"I know these brutal injuries are a little bit of a scratch for you, but..."

"But it worries you when I go on missions that involve more than big men fighting me," Natasha finished the sentence before you could, a huge grin plastered from ear to ear.

You just chuckled, as you carefully worked to heal those terrible wounds on her face, product of a more complex mission than usual.

"Come on! Who knows if that creature that hurt you might give you some disease from the outer-space microbes it had in its claws. It could get infected and you could start a new pandemic, you know?" You half-joked.ñ

Natasha let out a loud laugh, that could be perhaps be heard all over facility.

"Well, look on the bright side, maybe I'll get to be the one to name it," she chuckled, and she flinched subsequently, her wounds hurt due to her smiling-facial expression.

"Silly!" You playfully nudged her shoulder with your fist, as you kept smiling enormously. "Jokes aside, please promise me you'll keep those wounds clean. You'll apply this," you showed her a small container of antiseptic soap, "And after that, you must apply this as well," you showed her a spray of alcohol.

She never told you this at first, but she appreciated enormously that you cared for her in this way, and that, on top of that, you were always willing to look after her as if she wasn't used to risking her life in all sorts of places.

The older woman nodded and laughed a little. "Of course, I'll make sure to clean the wounds and apply those, it's not too bad really. Don't worry yourself, okay?" She smiled kindly and warmly at you.

"Perfect... I'll let you off, then," you replied, with a grin. "Go get some rest, and I'll see you again when..." you paused. "I'll see you again," you affirmed this time.

You didn't know when you would see her again.

You had a very simple mission, so simple that you didn't need to go out and take risks as you normally did. You just needed to find information, leak some documents, hack into certain bases, and you could do it all from the comfort of the Avengers Tower. You were almost done when Natasha returned from her mission with the rest of the Avengers, and you insisted in helping her with all those wounds she had in her face, which again, were not something new for any of you, but still... you hated to see her even in the slightest discomfort. And just like on the other times, she refused to receive your help, but eventually gave in.

Outside of coincidences like these and the missions you had together, you didn't convive with her. And you missed her more than you could admit.

It was a strange feeling. You both got along well... excellent, to tell the truth, and you liked each other's company. However, that was no different than your relationship with the other Avengers, even so, Natasha Romanoff was the only one whose presence you longed more than usual whenever you were apart.

"Sure, I'll see you again," she nodded, as she rose from the seat she was in, and patted your shoulder affectionately.

This was always the way goodbyes were, and you couldn't lie, it hurt a little bit to realize that you didn't have a relationship with her outside of work. That was to be expected, many years of knowing her teammates didn't compare to a couple of months of knowing you, but you had to start somewhere, right?

That day, Natasha did as you told her and rested in her room of the Tower, and you, on the other hand, returned to the solitude of your apartment, watched a few episodes of your favorite series and waited to be summoned again on another occasion.

Said occasion was about a week later, and amidst the catastrophe that ensued, the taste of victory for having done well never ceased to leave you with a feeling of accomplishment.

It was even better than the others, since it was a mission against the organization you had unwillingly dedicated your life to serving. And this time, you were on the right side.

Your eyes watered a little. And Natasha didn't say it at first either, but she was the first to notice it because she used to watch you more than she would like to admit.

"Oh, sweetheart, what's wrong?" She asked you, turning to you with a concerned expression on her face. "Don't tell me you regretted joining us, because I'm going to hit you," she joked, and there you realized that was a habit of hers, for the purpose of lightening the mood.

And she succeeded, because you laughed, "Quite the opposite. I'm so happy to find myself on this side and to be able to make up even a little bit for all the bad I did," you confessed.

She let out a little 'Awww' and proceeded to hug you.

It felt like... like home. And maybe your home wasn't the kindest to you, so it was more like you found a new place where you could feel warm and comfortable.

It felt like a shelter from the world's harshness, and that you were at last somewhere you belonged. The embrace was gentle and firm at the same time, somehow it was a combination that could go well altogether, and it was as if every little thing that had ever hurt you was washed away by the love in that hug.

She stayed that way for as long as you needed. And later, at the Avengers Tower, everyone asked you if you were all right, and when they made sure you were calmer, they left to their respective rooms, but not before giving you words of affirmation telling you how valuable you were and what a priceless job you had done on the mission.

And after that little moment of closeness you had with Natasha, two days passed when you saw her again.

You were not specifically summoned for a mission, rather, Tony Stark needed your help to develop a new artificial intelligence prototype that would assist Peter Parker. The only difference was that Tony wanted her to ask him about his feelings and get concerned for his well-being, almost like a therapist or a mother would.

There had been maybe four or five opportunities where you had the pleasure of demonstrating your mental abilities, which were numerous.

Of course at Hydra they weren't going to raise you to be physically astute, they needed to train you mentally as well, and sure as hell they did. Because, maybe it would take Tony Stark more than four or five tasks to trust someone, but you completed them so efficiently, that very little was enough for him to be impressed and take you into consideration for this field as well.

About seven hours had passed, where you were discussing and employing the famous "trial and error", when Natasha came to interrupt. Tony wasn't too happy about it, but you were delighted.

"It turned out like shit," she concluded. She had a little dirt on her suit and her face was scarred with small injuries, but these weren't man-made, they were more like falls. "The target had already left the base by the time we got there, and took everything. All we did was kill the guards for nothing, no objective."

Tony took a deep breath, leaning back in his seat. For him, if there was anything worse than interruptions, it was interruptions for bad news.

"That's the third time in a row they've had us looking like idiots playing Tag," he snorted. "We'll figure out what to do. We did what we could."

Natasha was not at all pleased with his answer, as she wanted an immediate solution, and for her, the worst thing that could happen was to fail in something as simple as attacking a Hydra base.

"That's it?" She exclaimed, and at Tony's lack of response, she let out a groan and with giant strides, she left the room.

You ran after her, caring very little if she yelled at you to leave her alone. You wanted to at least make an attempt to be there for her.

"Nat!" You called out to her. "Nat, come on!"

She stopped, and turned to look at you, "What do you want?"

Now thar you were close to her, you noticed how fresh the small wounds on her face looked, and you would soon set out to help her with that, but the support she needed the most was the emotional kind.

"There's this place near Willow Lake," you laughed at her mild surprise. "I know, it's a bit far from here, but we can grab a bite to eat, take a walk down to the lake afterwards... you don't have to talk if you don't want to, I just want to offer you this little method of escape that has helped me in my darkest days."

There was no power on earth that would make her turn down such an offer, not only because this would be the first time she would be spending time with you outside of missions and work, but because it really sounded like a plan that would help her tremendously in all that stress she was going through.

After Natasha took a shower and changed, she went to find you in the room where you were working with Tony, who gave you a grateful smile before you left.

The drive there was long, and neither of you said much more than small talk, but it was extremely comfortable at the same time, with Taylor Swift's music playing on the car's speakers.

With this alone, she seemed more relaxed as she remained in the passenger seat. It was clear that the unsuccessful mission was eating her mind, but by having a moment to think about it, she gradually lightened up. She was very grateful that you gave her space and didn't try to distract her.

As soon as you guys got out of the car, the first thing you could feel was how pure the air was in that area, and how uncrowded it was compared to the noisy city. With that alone, Natasha understood why you brought her there, it was a peaceful and perfect place to think.

"Do you like it?" You asked, and if the redhead hadn't been too invested taking in her surroundings, she would have noticed that you were in turn, completely dumbfounded watching her..

"I love it," she nodded, with a huge smile, and proceeded to close her eyes and take a deep breath to enjoy the air.

When you entered the small cafe, you ordered a panini and a soda, and encouraged Natasha to order whatever she wanted, it would be your treat. Neither of you had eaten and it was already four in the afternoon, so you couldn't wait for the food to arrive.

You didn't ask her anything about it, and you didn't bring the subject up, you just waited patiently for her to speak first. And she did so about five minutes after she ordered.

"I feel better already," she said. "Maybe Tony's approach wasn't the best, but he's right, we'll find a way, in the meantime, we did what we could."

You smiled.

"We'll find a way to come out of this victoriously. Believe me when I tell you that they no longer have any threats and all they have left is to run. We'll find a way to corner them," you encouraged her, almost sensing firsthand how frustrated she might have felt earlier.

She nodded in agreement, "We have to come up with a plan," she replied. "I've already given a lot of thought to it, and I think right now, what I want to do is enjoy this moment with you, because, you do realize this is our first outing together?"

You did realize, and you couldn't begin to express how much you looked forward to this moment. While the conversations during missions or at the Tower were enough for you to grow fond of each other, there was always work involved.

"You're right. I wouldn't have wanted to wait this long, but I understand you're busy, and, I wasn't sure if you were in the mood to go out during your rest time."

She chuckled at the comment, "Oh, no! I like going out. And look, maybe I am busy, but you might just be worth dropping everything for... you know, once in a while!"

You reacted with a small and subtle giggle, feeling even more charmed and flattered by her.

"I must say, it's an honor to potentially be worth dropping everything for, even once in a while," you responded lightheartedly.

The food arrived just in time, and you both exchanged a look of acknowledgement at how good it looked.

"Well, bon appétit," she smiled, and didn't wait five seconds to start devouring her lunch.

You both ate in silence, very focused on enjoying the food as it was already too late after the regular lunch hour. You were starving.

When you finished your meal, you talked about banal topics to get to know each other better, such as favorite books, movies and series, hobbies, the music you enjoyed the most and whether you preferred summer or winter. It was a nice chat, where you both found a lot of common ground and were introduced to new possibilities, because let's say you left that restaurant with at least twenty songs to listen to, ten books to read and five movies and series to check out.

It was until you left the restaurant and walked to the lake that the conversation deepened. She asked you about your past, and although you didn't spill those details so easily, you ended up telling her even more than your closest friends knew. Natasha was just that kind of person.

And when Natasha shared her story with you, that was the most painful, deepest and perhaps most precious aspect that you shared — that intrinsic feeling that impelled you to abandon all evil sown in your hearts.

You were so immersed in conversation, that it seemed like in five minutes the sky went dark when in reality it had been about three hours straight.

From then on, whenever your free times coincided, you made the most of it. You made it a regular part of your lives, would always make plans for upcoming meet-ups and, naturally, your relationship slowly started to grow and deepen over time as a result.

You started to appreciate the little details that shaped Natasha, from her stunning smile to her sweet laugh, from her thoughtful glances to her kind words. It was like a flame had been lit inside of you, eventually growing into a roaring blaze that could not be tamed. You were slowly and deeply falling in love with her, there was no denying it anymore.

"Nat, I'm so sorry for what I'm about to do, but you leave me no choice," you said, as soon as you pulled a +4 card as a last resource. Your only cards remaining were two red ones and of course you would decide said color as the next.

Natasha let out a gasp of surprise, and shook her head.

"How could you?" She exclaimed, and with much indignation, took the four cards.

"I choose red," you stated, very indifferent to her reaction.

She checked the cards she had taken, and the red card she placed, was one that would prevent you from your turn, and then, she placed a red one with a number on it.

With a victorious smile, you shouted "UNO" as you placed the second to last card you had left. And to your bad luck, Natasha didn't have one of the same color, but she did have a blue one with the same number.

"Excuse me, you were saying?" She replied, in a mocking tone.

It was your turn to gasp in surprise.

"Natalia, you monster!" You exclaimed. "My devious scheme has been disrupted, and I have been bested. I expected this from everyone, but you?" You said in an over-dramatic tone, placing your hands on your chest, as if you had been stabbed.

You two were cross-legged playing UNO on Natasha's bed, having watched a couple of movies and ordered food. You had been playing for maybe an hour and a half now, and this last round was no different than the previous ones, since you were always looking for ways to trick and betray each other in this little game. Until, Natasha finally won.

"Ahhh! This was a tough one!" You commented, collecting the cards from the pile and sorting them. As you were doing this, you noticed something under Natasha's leg, sticking out slightly. "But of course, it was honest play, wasn't it? It would be a shame if you cheated."

She snorted, "Yes, honesty first and foremost, I agree," she acted innocent. You did your best to hold your laughter.

"Hey, since you're closer, would you mind getting up and handing me my phone?" You pointed to your phone, which was charging in her bedside table.

"You get up, lazy!" She teased, making you gasp in surprise.

"Well, I may be lazy, but I'm no cheater!" You exclaimed, pointing to the card under her leg.

"Oh, whaaaaat?! How did this even get here?!" She said, making her voice a little higher pitched and feigning surprise.

You couldn't help it and laughed loudly.

"Oh, come on, Nat!" You answered. "We're resuming this game, now!"

Luckily, you caught on to her trick before you rearranged the cards, and you hadn't yet touched hers and yours.

"Give me that card," you ordered her, and at that, she didn't let you have it and kept moving the card just out of your reach.

You suddenly realized you've leaned forward to try and grab at the card, and you accidentally ended up on top of her, with her lying on her back underneath you.

The world around you faded into the background, leaving only the two of you exchanging a few shy looks and smiles, acknowledging the position you were in, feeling a little nervous and uncertain about it.

The pounding of your heart was racing a million beats per second, its rhythm matching the rapid pace of your thoughts. Your cheeks flushed with warmth whilst you embraced the profound effect she had on you.

And after a while, you summoned all your courage and made the first move. You leaned in, closing the distance between you and Natasha. In that intimate moment, your lips gently met hers, softly and tenderly.

However, the thrill of the moment was replaced with confusion and disappointment when Natasha pulled away.

"I can't," her words hung in the air.

You reluctantly drew back, giving her the space she needed, and you searched her eyes, longing to find the reason behind her hesitance, but all you could see was a glimpse of regret and shame.

It was as if she carried a secret, a secret that prevented her from fully embracing the moment, despite the chemistry you thought there was between you both. Or maybe you got lost in translation, maybe she simply didn’t share your feelings.

"I'm sorry," you apologized, your voice breaking. "I didn't mean to overstep. I misunderstood."

"Please, just go," Natasha's expression remained resolute.

Her words felt like a cold-hearted stab in your chest, leaving you at a loss for what to say or do. Nevertheless, you decided to respect her boundaries, honoring her wish to be left alone.

With a heavy heart, you nodded, gathering your things. Subsequently, you whispered another "I’m sorry" as you started to walk away.

The taste of that stolen kiss lingered on your lips for a long time, as a reminder of the brief, tantalizing ephemeral glance of something that could have been.

In the meantime, you only hoped that someday, the circumstances would align, allowing both of you to talk it out and move on.

That happened when you were contacted for another mission. With the help of the advanced technology and scientific knowledge that the Tower counted with, everyone contributed to analyze the data collected.

Each member expressed their concerns, ideas and proposals for the next step to take. Natasha, in particular, treated you with incredible disdain and professionalism, leaving everyone around you surprised. It was as if she created a barrier between you both, as if she barely recognized your presence now. There was no trace of shame or shyness on her face, unlike you, who struggled to even hold eye contact with her.

Finally, the meeting concluded. As the team prepared to disperse, the opportunity to talk to Natasha presented itself. The others began to head out, leaving the two of you alone in the room. This was the moment you had been waiting for.

"Nat, can we talk?" You gently drew her attention as she evaluated the information presented in the screens.

She turned to look at you, and then nodded. It was a small gesture, but it gave you the reassurance you needed to proceed.

"I… just want to apologize," you began. "For what happened before, for misunderstanding and crossing a line that should’ve never been. I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

Her gaze softened, and she sighed, "It's not entirely your fault," she reassured you. "I should have been clearer. It's just… I have a lot of conflicts in my mind, it’s complicated."

You nodded, understanding that there was more to her story than you were told, "I want you to know that I treasure our connection, whatever it may be," you confessed, your sincerity present in every single world. "And if there's anything you're willing to share, I'm here to listen."

There was a brief pause as Natasha contemplated her response, but as the minutes passed, she felt more and more comfortable with sharing her past experiences with relationships, and how they caused her to struggle with trust issues.

"Nat, I’m going to be honest, I can't erase the mistakes of others, but I swear to you, I'm not here for just a fleeting encounter. And I’m willing to earn your trust, if you give me the opportunity."

"It's hard for me to believe that," she admitted. "But at the same time, there's something about you that makes me want to give you that opportunity, despite my reservations. It’s complicated, as I said."

In that precious moment, your feelings swirled together - joy, relief, and gratitude. You had been given a chance, an opportunity to show Natasha that your love for her could prevail over the scars of the past.

Ever since, every date you planned with her was a thoughtful gesture, meticulously adapted to her preferences as you were eager to give your best to create cherished memories. From intimate dinners at her favorite restaurants to adventurous outings exploring new places, your attention to the small details that made her happy did not go unnoticed, because she appreciated the genuine effort you put into making her feel seen and loved. She also appreciated that you never pressed her for more than she was ready to give.

You provided a safe space where she could open up at her own pace. Naturally, time went on, and Natasha began to let her guard down in your presence.

Until, one —ironically— rainy night, your phone buzzed discreetly. You glanced down and read the words from your adoptive father, that were capable of disturbing your peace within seconds…

"I hope our deal still stands, and that you didn't actually move to the Avengers' side."

Unbeknownst to you, Natasha could perfectly read the message, her expression shifting from serenity to one of concern and anger. In an instant, the world seemed to hold its breath.

Time slowed as Natasha's eyes found yours, and the depth of her pain and distrust pierced through every fiber of your being. The delicate thread of trust that had been formed between you threatened to break under the weight of betrayal.

"What is this, (Y/N)?" She asked as her voice trembled. "Have you been playing both sides all along?!"

Before you could even respond, Natasha's eyes glazed over and she proceeded to rise abruptly from her seat to leave the restaurant where you were having dinner. Little did you care and you placed a hundred dollar bill that would cover both of your consumption plus a generous tip.

Afterwards, you ran out of the place to follow her. The first thing you felt was an overwhelming cold and the rain soaking you.

"Nat, please believe me," you pleaded. "I never wanted any of this. My loyalty lies with you and the Avengers."

"Yes, yes. I've heard that story a thousand times, and I didn't like the ending," she replied.

"Nat...—"

"I don't want to hear you!" She shouted suddenly, startling you. "You expect me to believe your empty words? I thought you were different, but I see now that you're just like everyone… no, you’re worst, way worst."

The rain that drenched you seemed insignificant compared to the icy chill that her words settled within you, making the ache in your chest unbereable.

"No, Nat, please," you begged desperately, your voice being interrupted by occasional sobs. "Let’s get inside and talk, I’ll explain you everything. I love you."

She shuddered as if your words had hurt her even more. The pain in her eyes reflected the storm that ravaged her soul.

"Love? Is that what you call it?" Her voice exuded bitterness as she lashed out, determined to protect herself from further pain. "You have a funny way of showing it. Actions speak louder than empty declarations."

Her words crushed you completely, as the rain mixed with your tears.

As Natasha turned, her silhouette blurred by the rain, you eventually felt too weak to even be standing, and you kneeled in the pavement, feeling your entire body twist in pain and regret.

"Natasha, my love, please don't leave," you sobbed. "Nat… don’t leave,” you whispered this time.

But she was gone, swallowed up by the darkness and the pouring rain. And you were right where she left you drenched and devastated, unable to understand how everything could fall apart so quickly.

Your mission as an infiltrator within the Avengers was the following: to steal a valuable possession and to disrupt their missions, weakening their defenses and providing Hydra a strategic advantage.

You proposed to your adoptive father the tip of the iceberg of your original plan. You told him you would deceive everyone, in order to gain their trust and position yourself as Hydra's eyes within the mighty Avengers' Tower.

However, your true motives remained hidden. Little did he know that you yearned for a chance to redeem yourself from the shadows of your past. You genuinely wanted to make a connection with the Avengers, to join their ranks and fight for the greater good.

At first, you walked a tightrope, subtly sabotaging the Avengers' efforts against Hydra to maintain your adoptive father's trust, so he would not proceed against you or your teammates. But as time went on, you stopped even doing that, and instead, made excuses to prevent suspicion that you didn't align with Hydra's twisted ideals. And that message he sent you during your date with Natasha couldn't have been more inopportune.

Days turned into weeks, and the weight of loneliness suffocated any hint of hope that remained, because as expected, you heard nothing from Natasha, or any of the Avengers for that matter. All those friendships, laughs, trust… shattered into a thousand pieces by a message that didn't represent you at all.

You even began to consider packing your belongings and escape to another country to start from scratch. Your stupid choices held you captive, and the desire to break free consumed you.

In the midst of this overwhelming despair, you received a message from your adoptive father.

"Fine, if that’s how you want to play, then so be it. If you don't bring something valuable to us TODAY, she will suffer. We have her."

The message cut through your being like a searing blade, slashing through the delicate fabric of your soul. There was no hiding what you have done, and a life was held hostage, a life intertwined with your own.

As if the threat wasn't enough, he continued…

"Also, if you call the Avengers, we'll know, and she'll die painfully before they even get there. Steal something like I raised you to do. No tricks this time."

You felt the air rushing out from your lungs, as fear gripped your heart mercilessly. The mere thought of your beloved enduring torment struck you with agony, and there was no doubt that you would protect her at all costs.

In the midst of your despair, a plan began to take shape. You would infiltrate into the Avengers' Tower and steal the highly advanced AI system you and Tony initially designed for Peter Parker.

It seemed like the perfect key to Natasha’s safety, and to meet your adoptive father’s demands. Hydra's capabilities would be significantly amplified with it.

Your exile also translated into losing access to everything you used to come and go. In consequence, using your years of training, reflected through skills and expertise, you successfully manipulated the electronic locks and bypassed the intricate security measures.

Finally, you stood before the AI, and with a steady hand, you carefully detached the system, making sure not to leave a trace of your presence. The stolen AI system nestled securely in your possession, and therefore, Natasha would be safe and sound in no time.

You headed to the place you were ordered to, and it was conveniently apart from the city, being a former abandoned factory.

You knew that Natasha was extremely dangerous and strong, therefore you couldn't stop thinking of the position she must have been in so that they managed to get her with no problem.

Once there, you took the suitcase containing AI Karen's chip and made your way towards the meeting point. You noticed that there were about ten guards guarding the area, and one of them checked if you didn't have a weapon.

As soon as the door slightly opened, you kicked it hard and entered the place.

You saw Natasha immobilized with smart handcuffs restraining on her wrists and ankles, but when you ran towards her, you were stopped by the man you most repudiated on the face of this earth.

"Hey, easy," he said mockingly. "Let's talk business."

Your eyes glazed over, as you felt your heart ache at the sight in front of you. There was nothing you wanted more than to hug her and reassure her that you would do everything in your power to save her. But in order to accomplish that, you had to obey what was being asked of you.

"This is what I got," you began after letting out a long sigh. "It is similar to the artificial intelligence that Tony Stark has in his suit, and I participated in its development," you continued. "It has various databases and security protocols that would facilitate the acquisition of classified information, allowing Hydra to infiltrate sensitive networks and manipulate events to suit its agenda. It can also analyze patterns, anticipate trends, and adjust strategies accordingly. It would make an incredible asset for global domination."

After giving him a quick demonstration, your adoptive father smiled wickedly and patted your shoulder.

"Oh, I'm so proud of you," he exclaimed, and perhaps your self of many years ago would have rejoiced at those words, but now that you knew the price you had to pay to hear those words, you realize that they are not worth all the suffering, and never were.

"Let Natasha Romanoff go, father," you commanded with your jaw clenched.

His laughter echoed through the dimly lit factory. His eyes bore into yours, devoid of any warmth or compassion, as he reveled in his victory.

"Let her go," he scoffed, his voice filled with disdain. "Why would I release her when I finally have you exactly where I want you?"

A surge of anger coursed through you, fueling a fire that burned fiercely within your chest.

"No," you declared firmly. "You should know by now that Natasha means more to me than any twisted ideology you spew."

Your adoptive father's eyes burned with fury. In that moment, you realized that your defiance had destroyed his illusion of control.

"After everything I have done for you? Don't you see? This is your purpose, your destiny!" He countered.

"That’s your purpose for me, as your puppet," you corrected. "My purpose is not to spread chaos and destruction. It's to protect the people I love and make amends for the wrongs I've done. And guess what? That’s what I’m doing."

"Ah, so the great (Y/N) has grown soft and weak in the arms of Natasha. I knew allowing emotions into your heart would be your downfall," he sneered, with an air of disappointment. "You were meant to be a weapon in our hands, an asset for the future of this organization," he added.

"… and I would rather be 'soft' in the eyes of Hydra than hardened and devoid of humanity like you," you stated. "I may have been created by Hydra, but I am not defined by them. I choose my own path, and it's one that leads away from your darkness."

He took a deep breath, characteristic of when he already lost his patience. You knew it so well, and it never failed to frighten you.

He stepped closer, his menacing presence closing in around you, "I raised you to be better, so you have one last chance," he hissed, handing you a gun. "You end Natasha Romanoff's life, or I will do it myself. And trust me, my methods are far more agonizing than a quick death."

You trembled, feeling your heart suffocating, your mind finding its way of reminding you of the laughter you shared, the tender moments, the unbreakable bond between you and Natasha. But at the same time, you knew what your adoptive father was capable of, and it filled you with dread.

There were no other options, no escape from the cruel fate that awaited her if you refused. With tears welling in your eyes, you whispered your surrender. "Fine. I'll do it."

When Natasha heard the words escape your trembling lips, her eyes widened in disbelief, and her features contorted in a mixture of shock and heartbreak.

The knot in your stomach tightened, constricting your breath and making it difficult to think clearly. Your palms grew clammy, sweat trickling down your forehead as your heart pounded in your chest.

You cautiously approached Natasha. Every step felt like an eternity, the deafening thud echoing in your ears. When you were close enough, you saw the beads of sweat glistening on her forehead, her muscles straining against the unyielding bonds that sought to confine her. It was a testament to her resilience, her unyielding spirit that refused to be broken.

In the end, this was you, a deadly weapon raised to make these kinds of actions. What was one more kill? Your entire life had been shaped by the manipulations and training of your adoptive father, molding you into a merciless instrument of his will and the will of the company he worked for.

You raised the gun, as the metal felt cold and unforgiving in your sweaty hands. And then, as if guided by an invisible force, your finger began to tighten around the trigger.

You made the last choice, the choice that would determine the path of your future and, ultimately, save both yourself and Natasha. There was no other way out.

With a determination that burned bright within you, you aimed at your objective. So, when your finger curled around the trigger, a deafening shotgun erupted in the room, shattering the suffocating silence.

In that instant, your adoptive father's body crumpled to the ground, unconscious and defeated. His presence, once so menacing and dominant, now lay broken, a mere shadow of the authority he once commanded.

Natasha's body jerked in a sudden startle when she heard the shotgun, and her eyes clenched shut, as if shielding herself from the inevitable horror that awaited her. Every muscle in her body tensed, bracing for the impact, but then, a familiar voice made itself present.

"Open your eyes, darling, it's over," you uttered, your voice trembling with the shock of what had just transpired.

Slowly, Natasha's eyes fluttered open. The room came into focus, and as her gaze fell upon you, the realization of what you did hit her immediately.

You then reached for the small monitor that was in your adoptive father’s pocket and unlocked the restraints that held Natasha captive. She carefully removed the tape on her mouth.

Her eyes glistened with shed tears as she threw herself into your arms, her body trembling against yours. The resentment and doubt she once had towards you seemed to dissolve in that moment whilst she held onto you as if her life depended on it.

"I thought I lost you," she whispered, her voice choked with tears and vulnerability.

You held her tightly, your own emotions spilling all over, "I'm here, Nat. This is me. This has always been me."

Her lips trembled, and she pressed them against yours, and in that single, stolen moment, the world around you ceased to exist. Time stood still as your lips met, fueled by a yearning that transcended mere physical desire. It was a fusion of souls, a merging of two hearts that had endured unimaginable pain and now reveled in the sweet taste of redemption.

"I love you," she whispered between kisses.

"I love you too," you murmured, and how unmatched was the feeling of being able to say it when there was no hint of uncertainty on the other side. "And as long as you allow me, I will do my best to keep showing it to you."

After securing the AI and taking down all the guards that prowled the place, you both emerged from the abandoned factory. Although the scars of the event would forever mark your souls, you knew that you had emerged stronger than ever.

Together, you would forge a new path, rewriting the narratives that had threatened to tear you apart, and embracing the love that had always been destined to bring you back together.

This was the accomplished mission that you both were most proud of. Especially because, in addition to having shared years of experiences, adventures, and everlasting memories, it was only a matter of time before you also shared the "Romanoff" last name.

[thelovelylolly]

Joel Miller/Tommy Miller x Reader where she finds an old Sphynx (hairless ugly thing lol, but so affectionate) cat and carries him in her hoodie to keep him warm. Joel wonders why she's being shifty/what she's hiding. And isn't impressed when she finally shows him.

-

This is super random but I would miss my adopted Sphynx sooo much if I was thrown into the last of us universe 🙈😭 he's too domesticated to live as a stray lol he wears clothes (even legwarmers 🤣) and sleeps in my bed or inside my hoodie all day 🤣

Hope you're well x

Can We Keep Him?

Summary: You find a Sphynx cat while traveling with Joel, who doesn't want it. Warnings: post-outbreak, not proofread bc my own cats kept me up last night and im tired, let me know if i missed anything! Notes: i. love. cats. thats it thats the note

You and Joel stumbled upon an abandoned gas station and strip mall while making your way to your next trading spot. You two decided to split up and raid the abandoned buildings so you wouldn't waste too much time. You went into the gas station while Joel looked through the other buildings. It was already pretty picked over, but every once in a while, you would find something useful or just interesting.

You were walking through the dirty isles when you heard a crunch from the back. You immediately turned around, but saw nothing. You grabbed your flashlight and pistol, readying them as you two slow steps towards the sound. Another crunch and a rustle come from the back. You got closer and closer, pausing for a moment before turning the corner to prepare yourself. You didn't want to deal with infected.

You quickly turned the corner and aimed your flashlight at the noise. Two blue eyes stared back at you as you lowered your gun and flashlight. A Sphynx cat was just munching on some random food that was left, and probably expired.

"Aw, hey little guy," you cooed, putting your pistol in your waistband and crouching down in front of the cat. You carefully stuck your hand out to him, letting him sniff at your hand before rubbing his head against your hand. You gave him some scratches on his wrinkly little head as he walked closer to you.

"Will you let me take you?" You asked him when he put his front paws on his knees. He meowed at you and you picked him up, standing up with him in your arms.

You carefully opened your hoodie up and he instantly hopped in, happy for the warmth. You giggled and he stuck his head out, licking your chin.

"You gotta hide, buddy. I don't know if Joel will like you," you said, gently pushed his head back down. You made sure he was comfortable, then left the gas station to regroup with Joel.

----

Joel knew something was off with you. As you two continued on your way, your arms stayed wrapped around your torso and you didn't take your hoodie off, no matter how hot you were getting. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn't. So, he stopped walking and turned to face you.

"What's going on?" He asked.

Your eyes widened and you quickly looked away from Joel. "Nothing, why?"

"You're acting weird."

"No, I'm not."

"Yes, you are."

"Joel, I'm not, okay?"

He stepped closer, his hands going to his hips. "You really wanna do this?"

You sighed and rolled your eyes. You opened your hoodie up and carefully took the Sphynx cat you found out, cradling him in your arms. Joel was, at first, shocked you were able to hide the little guy so easily, then disappointed. Of course you picked up a stray cat, a hairless, wrinkly one at that.

"Where did you find that?" Joel asked.

"The gas station," you replied. "He was just too cute to leave and he immediately started to love on me, so..."

"Okay, first, he is not that cute. Kinda ugly, to be honest. Second, why on earth did you pick up a stray cat? You don't know what kinda diseases he has."

"I don't care, and he is cute! Can we keep him? Please?"

"No," Joel answered sharply.

"C'mon, Joel. Can you really say no to this face?" You replied, holding the cat out to Joel.

"Yes, I can. He's not a cute cat."

"He is! Plus, where are we gonna leave him that's safe?" You added. "Please, Joel? Just until we find a better place for him?"

Joel took a deep breath and grumbled something as he ran a hand across his face.

"Fine. We can keep him, but when we find a good place to leave him, that's it," he said before turning and continuing on your path.

"Yes!" You cheered quietly as you quickly followed Joel. "Now, what should we call him?"

"Dear lord," Joel grumbled, already regretting letting you keep the cat.

[avastrasposts]

The Pilot and his Girl - ch. 34**

Again, sorry about chapter 33, I know if was a hard one! But as someone said, it bonded us and brought us together! And I cannot tell you how good it felt to finally post it and be able to talk about it even though I was really nervous people would be genuinely offended. But it's all good! No got angry (yet anyway...).

So we're past the worst of it and Frankie and his girl are about to leave the QZ so please enjoy their journey that led to me using Google Maps an extraordinary amount!

Series Master List

Chapter 35- Warnings have their own post - Word count: 8.8k

Getting out of Boston is scary, Frankie drives and dodges around the runners that are attracted to the noise of the car. You regret your decision to leave every minute of the drive but Frankie hasn’t met a vehicle he can’t safely push to its limits. When you dare to open your eyes again you’re speeding down an empty highway, the Boston suburbs disappearing behind you.

“That was fucking intense,” he huffs, glancing in the rear view mirror at the fading city skyline. “Let’s not do that again.”

“I’m sorry, Frankie, but I really haven’t thought about where we should go,” you say, looking over at him as he drives, “I had no plan apart from getting you away from the QZ.”

“It’s ok, cariño, we’ll figure it out,” he slides his hand over to your leg, squeezing it lightly, “I’ll just get us as far as possible today, out into the countryside, and then we’ll see where we wanna go.”

“How far do you think we’ll get in this car?” you ask, looking over the small sedan. It wasn’t the sturdiest car even when it was new, and it wasn’t new when the outbreak happened.

“As long as we find petrol and it doesn’t blow a tyre, it should be fine. I hope,” Frankie gives the dash a gentle pat as if willing the car to hold itself together.

You fall silent for a few minutes, looking out through the window and the passing trees. You’ve passed Worcester and the landscape is changing. You’d forgotten how green it could be, the QZ was devoid of almost all plant life, all trees taken down for firewood, any park dug up for crops. But out here, on a bright May day, everything is so green it almost hurts. In the past ten years nature has taken over and when you drive through a forest it’s like being inside a tunnel of green, tall grass and thick bushes caging in the road and slowly creeping over it. In a few more years even the asphalt will be broken up by roots and plants, you can already see it in places.

The miles pass and you see less and less civilization and no sign of infected. Frankie makes sure to drive around any towns or cities, staying well away from any places that used to be populated. You leave Massachusetts and keep making your way west, after a few hours you reach Pennsylvania and one of the big state forests. The green hillsides remind you of Denny’s cabin, of the drive up there. You haven’t thought about it in years but now it seems like a haven.

“Could we go back to Denny’s cabin?” you ask, looking over at Frankie again, “Maybe it’s still untouched.”

“After all these years, I doubt it,” he says, shaking his head, “I did lock it when we left but someone’s bound to have found it, raiders or looters. And even before it would’ve been a two day drive, now, who knows how long it would take?”

“But we need somewhere really remote, maybe up towards the Canadian border?”

“Yeah, but past the Great Lakes first, too many people on this side,” Frankie says, “And not too far north, the winters are too harsh.” He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and you hear him inhale a couple of times, you know he’s getting ready to say something so you wait while watching his profile, his eyebrows knit together and he tightens his jaw.

“I gave the last pills to Joel,” he says, finally, “And the key to the apartment, to give to Will.” He glances over to you, “But I don’t blame you if you don’t believe me about the pills, I know I’ve lied a lot lately.”

“Frankie…” you begin and he shakes his head.

“You don’t need to say anything, I’m just going to prove it to you, prove that you can trust me again,” he nods, more to himself than to you, “I’ll prove it to you, but,” he takes his eyes of the road again and looks at you, his eyebrows bunched up with nerves, “…the thing is, I’m already getting shaky, and I don’t know what shape I’ll be in once the withdrawals really kick in. I might need you to drive soon.”

“Of course, Frankie, whatever you need,” you put your hand on his leg and you can feel him trembling, “Pull over as soon as you find a good spot and I’ll take over.”

He nods and takes a deep breath, breathing out through his nose, “I don’t know how bad it’ll get, you remember last time, right?”

“I remember you being sick as a dog for a day, you couldn’t keep any food or water down,” you move your hand to his forehead, he’s starting to look pale and his skin is cold to the touch, “Frankie, we should find a safe spot as soon as possible so that you can relax while it works it’s way out of your system.”

He nods and you pull out the road map that you’d found in the car, scanning the land ahead of you. You guide him and he turns on to increasingly smaller roads, finally arriving at a dead end with a small cabin tucked away deep into the forest. He stops the car and you sit quietly in the yard in front for a while, listening to the sounds of birds and nothing else. Eventually he turns the car around, parking it for an easy get away and you both get out and make sure both the cabin and the area is clear. It reminds you of the early days of the outbreak, when it was just you and him and you fall into the routine of you covering his back while he goes in first.

The cabin looks untouched, the door still locked and you easily find the key hidden under some rocks near the door. The rocks are covered in moss and you have to clean the key before it slides into the lock, but it fits, and the door swings open on creaking hinges. The inside is empty and dusty, just one big room. It looks like an old hunting lodge that’s been emptied out long before the outbreak. The only remaining feature is a big fireplace on the back wall.

“Safe and dry,” Frankie says, closing the door behind you. The shutters are closed and you switch on your flashlight.

“We’ll be alright here for a few days I think, although you might not be too comfortable,” you sweep the light across the room, there’s nothing, not even firewood in the cabin.

“I’ve slept in much worse, trust me, cariño,” he gives you a weak smile, he’s pulling out the camping light and cranking it. It’s not bright but spreads enough light to illuminate the room. As you put your flashlight away Frankie puts his backpack down by the wall, when he stands up again he suddenly wobbles and puts his hand out to steady himself.

“Frankie,” you say, rushing over and wrapping your arm around his waist to hold him up, “are you alright?”

He nods but lets you lower him gently to the floor, “I just got dizzy, it’s starting…” he breathes deeply and even in the dim light you can see his pale complexion under a sheen of sweat.

“How do you feel about food? I think you should eat something before it gets worse,” you kneel down next to him and pull out the camping stove and a can.

“Just give me some of those dry crackers you made and some water,” he says, leaning back against the wall and closing his eyes.

…

The night is bad for Frankie, his body shivers and you drape his sleeping bag over him but then sweat pours off him and his anxiety spikes. He’s got his head in your lap and you rake your fingers through his damp curls, soothing him in what little way you can as the opioids work their way out of his system. You refuse to let him keep watch, insisting that he gets what sleep he can, you sleep sitting up, a simple noise trap set up in front of the locked door. By morning Frankie is curled into a tight ball on the floor, sweating through his t-shirt and whimpering in his sleep. He’s thrown up during the night and you’ve forced him to drink water but now he’s fairly peaceful so you let him sleep for as long as his body will let him.

You only meant to stay overnight in the cabin but you end up bunkering down for three days. Frankie curses every decision he’s ever made that’s led him to lie shivering on the floor while he tries to at least keep liquids down. The forest around the cabin is quiet and you venture out in search of more water, leaving Frankie sleeping. When you come back a few minutes later he’s awake and anxious, irritated at you for leaving without him.

“You can’t go out on your own!” he snaps as you close the door behind you, wrinkling your nose at the stale air inside the cabin after three days. “What if something happens to you and I don’t hear anything?!” You put down the water container and he grabs your arms, pulling you close, “You’ve got to be more careful!”

“Frankie, honey….” you soothe him, “I was gone for a minute, there’s a stream just behind the cabin, “this is just your withdrawals messing with your brain.”

“You know I worry about you, you can’t just fucking disappear on me,” he growls, his temper getting the better of him as you try to calm him. The aggression has been simmering under the surface for the past twenty-four hours and you know he’s ready to peel his own skin off from sheer frustration. You carefully inhale a deep breath, letting him hold on to your arms as his jaw snaps shut around whatever angry words he wanted to spit out. This is not your Frankie, you have to keep reminding yourself, and you put your hands on his waist, his fingers still digging into your arms. Finding the small gap between his pants and shirt, you rub your thumbs over the soft skin, letting the warmth of your hands seep into him while you watch emotions work their way across his face; from anger to frustration to guilt and grief. When he lets go of your arms and wraps himself around you, pulling you tight, you know he’s snapped out of it for now.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I’m such a fucking mess right now.”

“I know, Frankie, but you’ll get past it, the worst is almost over,” you caress his messy curls, cupping the back of his head with your hand to keep him close. “I’m not leaving, I’m not going anywhere, just stay with me and I’ll take care of you, ok?”

He nods while you gently take his hand and pull him down onto the floor again. He sits against the wall, his fingers twitching as he tips his head back against the rough timber, closing his eyes.

“I’m actually a little bit hungry, maybe the worst is over.”

“That’s great, do you want something to eat? See if you can keep it down now?”

“Yeah, give me one of those crackers to start with,” he opens his eyes again and accepts the dry piece of thin bread from your backpack.

You watch him eat it and then a small helping of canned baked beans that you heat up on the camping stove. He’s still shaky and nauseous, but it stays down and he starts to feel better. You eat your own food and sit down next to him, pulling him into you with your arm over his shoulders.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, turning his head so that he can press a kiss to your cheek, “for putting up with me. Just for once I’d like to have a life where I don’t feel like I’m always trying to make up to you for my mistakes.”

“You know I’ll always think you’re worth it, Frankie,” you smile, running your fingers through his hair and scratching his scalp. He hums contentedly and sighs and you sit in silence for a while. His breathing is calmer than it has been in days, he’s not trembling anymore and he’s starting to feel warm again, like himself.

“I’m sorry I forced you to leave Will and Benny behind,” you say eventually, “but I couldn’t let them know, I didn’t want them to risk anything, this is just you and me.”

“I know,” he sighs, sitting up so that he can look at you properly, “I know you did what you had to do to get me away from it and I’m grateful. You sacrifice so much for me, cariño.”

“And Santi…” you begin to say but tears well up and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from falling apart. You see Frankie’s eyes fill up with tears too and he pulls you into his chest.

“It’s not your fault, Frankie,” you whisper between quiet sobs, “I know I said it but I know it wasn’t your fault, you got betrayed by someone.”

Frankie shakes his head, “I fucked up, I feel asleep, it would’ve been different,” he tightens his hold on you and you feel him tense up, “he was so disappointed in me for still using, he told me he was going to tell you when we got back and then kick my ass.”

“You talked to him before he got caught?” you ask, pulling back a little and wiping the back of your hand over your eyes, “you didn’t tell me about that.”

“Yeah, right before, I told him what had happened and he said we’d been betrayed, that it wasn't’ my fault, but…I-I don’t know…” Frankie sighs and you reach up and wipe away another tear from his cheek, “He wasn’t mad at me, just disappointed and told me I had to get over it, get clean, I’m just such a fucking mess, a disappointment to you all.”

“You’re doing it now, Frankie,” you say, letting the back of your hand caress his cheek, “you’re past the worst of the withdrawals and now you stay clean for Santi. And I’ll help you, all the way.”

Frankie sighs and gives you a weak smile, “He told me he wasn’t sure I could survive without you anymore, and he’s right, what the fuck would I do without you?”

“What the fuck would I do without you, Frankie?” you say, pressing your lips to the bare patch on his scruffy cheek, “And I don’t mean all the times you’ve actually saved my life. But how would I survive in this world if you didn’t love me? You’re the only reason I actually want to stay alive.”

“I don’t know how long I can keep us safe out here though,” Frankie says with a deep sigh, looking towards the door of the cabin as if he can see all the monsters, infected or not, waiting for you. “We’ll be in danger whenever we leave and even in a place like this, there’s always a risk of someone showing up.” He looks back at you, his eyebrows knitted and serious, “I don’t want to scare you, but there’s only us now and our odds aren’t good.”

“I don’t care, Frankie,” you let him wrap his arms around you so that he can tuck you in under his chin, “I just want my old Frankie back, without the drugs, and I’d rather have just a little time with you like that out here, then watch you succumb to your nightmares and addictions in the QZ.”

“Maybe I should’ve just left on my own…” he mumbles, “putting your through this isn’t fair.”

“Pfft…as if I’d let you,” you snort, “I would’ve come after you.”

“I know, and you coming after me then would’ve been much scarier than any infected or raider,” you can hear the smile in his voice and you give him a soft dig in between his ribs and he chuckles, pressing his lips to the top of your head while he runs his hand over your arm for a few minutes while you sit quietly.

“I never could’ve left you though, I’m too selfish,” Frankie says after a little while, “I need you, even when I’m my shittiest, lowest self. I never could’ve left you, even if you’d begged me to, Pope was right when he said I can’t survive without you.”

“I can’t believe he’s gone, I miss him,” you say, swallowing back the lump in your throat.

“Me too,” Frankie mumbles, “me too.”

…

On the morning of the fourth day Frankie feels stable enough to continue westward. The cabin you’re in is decent but still too close to civilization, so you refill your water canisters and load up the little car. You’re going to need to find gas soon though and when you hit the highway again Frankie sorts a siphon and fills up the tank. It’s slow going, stopping and getting more gas every hour but you make your way west, giving Chicago a wide berth. As soon as you start getting closer to towns or cities, you see infected. There are hordes of them, roaming around what used to be populated areas.

“Any town or city is off limits,” Frankie says as you watch yet another group of infected in the distance, “We’ll have to resupply by hunting or looting farmsteads. One or two infected we can handle, any more than that and we’re pushing our luck.”

You nod and agree, luckily you only see infected near towns or cities, you haven’t seen any in the farms you’ve explored. It seems people either left during the outbreak or the infected somehow naturally gravitate towards each other. In the years since the outbreak some attempts have been made to understand how the infection works and how it makes the infected behave. But apart from them seeming to group into larger hordes and moving with the seasons, no one really understands much about them.

You get past Illinois and enter Iowa, avoiding Des Moines and following the pin straight highway twenty through endless fields.

“Haven’t they heard of curves in this state?” you grumble as you stare at the road that stretches towards the flat horizon, “these roads are literally designed for people to fall asleep while driving.”

“You’ve never traveled by car across the Midwest before the outbreak?” Frankie asks, he looks relaxed, the road is almost empty, just a few cars along the sides, and he’s got his elbow out through the open window, the wind ruffling his curls under yet another trusty cap he picked up somewhere, this one says ‘Pennsylvania University’.

“No, I always flew when I went home from college and the only road trip I did was from Seattle to Portland.”

“I’ve driven coast to coast, the Midwest is the worst for straight roads,” Frankie says, waving his hand out the window, “we just need to get through Iowa and then Nebraska, then we’ll start seeing some mountains.”

“Is Nebraska where you wanna head?” you ask, following the highway on the map.

“Maybe, it gets pretty remote once you start getting in among the reservations, they were never very populated, but lots of open land. But I was thinking maybe Colorado too, but away from Aspen and Denver, somewhere remote up in the mountains but not so far up that the winters get too harsh.”

“Maybe down in the foothills of the Rockies?” you say, looking at the states that creep up to the big mountain range cutting you off from the coast, “Colorado, Wyoming, Montana?”

“Pick a state, cariño, and pick a farm,” he chuckles, “We’ve got a lot of land to choose from.”

…

At night you try to find shelter somewhere away from the road, out of sight. If you’re lucky you find an empty cabin or house, if not you try to hide in a forest, or at least a patch of trees. You sleep in watches, never trusting any place enough to both sleep at the same time. Frankie always makes you sleep first, and once he’s tired enough, in the middle of the night, he wakes you up and then he falls asleep easier and has less nightmares. They still plague him though, and there are new elements to them, he mumbles Pope’s name and you try to calm him before he gets to the point you know he revisits every night.

You still see him too, up on the scaffold every night in your dreams. Sometimes you can run towards it, other times you’re glued to the spot, unable to move, but the outcome is always the same; the trap door opens and he drops before you can get to him. Some nights are worse than others, then all four of them are up there, Frankie next to Pope, with Will and Benny there too. Those nights you wake up screaming as the trap door opens, and Frankie scrambles to pull you into his arms, to calm you down.

“You’re getting good at this,” you mumble, pressed into his soft flannel shirt as your breathing slows down. His hands are rubbing up and down your arms and back, grounding you under his touch.

“I have a lot of practice,” he whispers before he kisses the top of your ear, his warm lips tickling you and making your heart slow down a little bit more, “how many times haven’t you had to do this for me over the years?”

You hum into his chest, drifting off to sleep again even though it’s almost dawn, the dark night sky has a slight tinge at the eastern horizon as Frankie glances around the clearing you’re camped in tonight.

Suddenly he hears a high pitched cry, weak and in the distance, but distinct. You hear it too, even though you’re already half asleep, and you stir, sitting up.

“What was that?” you ask, turning towards the sound. As you listen you hear it again and this time you recognize it.

“It’s a baby,” you whisper, looking up at Frankie who’s straining his eyes to see through the darkness. It’s coming from across the road you’d been on before you took shelter in this copse, hidden from sight now by the trees.

“Yeah, an infant,” Frankie whispers back, getting up from the ground and continuing to look towards the sound.

“What do we do?” you look around the car, trying to hear or see anything else around your simple campsite.

“I’d like to say we leave, get the fuck out of here as quickly as possible,” Frankie says, looking down at you, “But I don’t think I can…”

“Me either,” you nod, “who the fuck are we if we leave a baby crying?”

Frankie gives a little shake of his head and you see him square up his shoulders as he looks towards the shrill, faint sound, “C’mon, we go quietly, we leave the car here, but grab your pack.”

You quickly pack up your things and pull out your gun, all traces of sleep are gone now as you follow behind Frankie. He leads the way across the highway and into the sparse forest on the other side. The baby goes silent sometimes but always starts crying again and suddenly Frankie puts his fist up, signaling you to stop. Through the forest you hear the soft sound of a woman shushing the child. Frankie motions for you to crouch down and slowly you move forward together, making as little noise as possible. The breeze masks your footsteps and as you step around a large oak tree you see the source of the sound; leaning against a boulder is a woman, a few years younger than yourself, with a baby cradled in her arms. Even in the faint light you can see her ghostly pale skin and gaunt look, her chest rising in short rapid breaths, like she’s gasping for air and something tells you she’s dying, her body is slumped over, like she doesn’t have any strength left. Frankie scans the area around her for a few seconds before he speaks.

“Don’t scream, we’re not going to hurt you,” he says, half visible behind the tree. The woman startles but doesn’t cry out, she just holds the child closer to her chest.

“We heard the baby crying, do you need help?”, you ask, still half hiding behind Frankie. He’s lowered his gun but you can tell he’s still on full alert. The woman is painfully emaciated and scared looking but she seems to relax a little when she sees you.

“Are you hurt?” Frankie asks, he can see that her ragged shirt is dark with what looks like blood, and she nods, her face suddenly crumples as she begins to cry.

“Please,” she begs, tears streaming down her face, “take him, get him away from them.” She struggles to lift the baby, he begins to wail again and she almost drops him as her arms give out.

“Keep watch,” Frankie says to you in a low voice, “I’m going to check on her.” He puts away his gun and puts his hands up.

“I’m going to come over, I don’t want to hurt you, so please don’t hurt me, ok?”

The woman nods, sobbing, and Frankie closes the short distance, crouching down next to her. You keep your gun raised, your eyes flitting between Frankie and the woman and the trees around you. The sky is rapidly getting lighter but the surrounding forest is quiet, whoever ‘them’ are, you can’t hear anything.

The woman’s eyes are big and fearful as Frankie crouches down but he smiles at her, you see his warm eyes give her that comforting look you’ve seen so many times, and she relaxes, trusting him instinctively.

“You’re hurt?” he asks in a soft voice and she nods, looking down at her abdomen.

“It’s bad, I’ve lost a lot of blood, I-I’m dying,” she whispers and as Frankie gently lifts her shirt you hear him inhale, her shirt is soaked with blood and there is a nasty looking gash deep into her side. She’s been holding her hand over it but as Frankie makes her move it out of the way you realize there’s no way you can help her. She needs a hospital, and even that might not be enough.

“I’m sorry,” Frankie says in a low voice, looking up at the woman’s pale face, “I can’t do anything, we only have a simple first aid kit. Who did this to you?”

The woman just shakes her head and tries to lift the baby again, “Take him, please, they’re hunting me, get him away from here.”

You scan the forest again, your finger on the trigger, straining your ears to hear anything above the chirping of the early morning birds that have started to sing.

“Who are they?” Frankie asks, gently dropping the woman’s shirt over her wound again.

“Slavers,” the woman shudders, “I escaped three days ago, I-I don’t have time, please,” she looks down at the baby in her arms and then back at Frankie, “Please, you’ve got to take him. His name is Jack, after my brother. He was heading to Wyoming with a group of people, please find him.”

Frankie looks over at you and you see the question in his eyes, should you take this baby? But the option is to leave him to die with his mother, or be found by the slavers, and then what? You nod to Frankie and look at the woman, “We’ll take him, but we might not find your brother, Wyoming is a big place.”

“Just get him away from here, please,” the woman’s voice breaks, she’s bending her head down over her son, gently tucking in the blanket that’s swaddled around him. She looks up at Frankie again, he’s still crouched next to her.

“Take him and…and k-kill me…” she pleads, “Don’t let them find me alive, they’ll hurt me.”

“How many are coming after you?” Frankie asks, holstering his gun and taking the infant boy from the woman.

“Ten, maybe fifteen,” she says, looking at her son, now safely tucked into the crook of Frankie’s arm. “There were twenty-two in the gang, I killed one as I escaped.”

“Too many for us to fight,” he replies, looking back at you. Much as you know he would like to help, he won’t risk your life or his own for this.

“Come here,” he says to you, motioning over, “take the baby.”

“Jack, his name is Jack Connolly, he-,” the woman says, her voice breaking into a moan as she grabs her side, “he’s six months old, his birthday is January twenty-third,” she looks at you as you carefully take Jack from Frankie, “Please take care of him,” she whispers, “tell him I love him.”

“I will, I promise,” you say, “We’ll keep him as safe as we can. Do you kno-”

Your head snaps up as you suddenly hear someone shout in the distance, Frankie is on his feet in a flash, gun raised.

“We need to go,” he says, “back to the car, quick.”

“Please,” the woman urgently whispers, “don’t leave me alive, you have to kill me,” she sobs, glancing over her shoulder towards where the shout came from. Frankie looks at her and then back at you before he kneels down by her again.

“Do you know where in Wyoming?” he asks, gently putting his hand on her shoulder. “And what is your name? So that we can tell your son when he grows up.” You turn away from the woman as you see Frankie reach for the hunting knife behind his back.

“Julia,” the woman says, her voice breaking around another painful moan, “They were heading for Wind River.”

“We’ll find him, we’ll bring Jack to him,” Frankie says and then you hear the breath knocked out of the woman in a gentle gasp. You can’t help but glance back, shielding the boy in your arms. Frankie’s hand is covering her mouth and his hunting knife is in her chest, angled just into her heart. As you watch, her wide eyes, locked on Frankie, go still and lifeless. He gently sweeps his hand over her eyelids, closing them as he pulls out his knife.

“C’mon, we need to move,” he says quietly, getting back to his feet, sheeting the knife and pulling out his gun again. A man with a gruff voice shouts again, closer this time, and as you spin around, Frankie grabs your arm and pulls you behind the large oak tree. He gives it a few seconds and then moves you forward with his hand still around your wrist.

“Back to the car, quietly,” he whispers, “if the baby cries, cover his mouth as much as you can.”

You only make it a short distance before you hear voices behind you again and Frankie pulls you both down behind some low shrubs, not enough to hide you if someone comes too close.

“I found her!” someone shouts from between the trees, “but the bitch is fucking dead!”

“And the baby?” another voice calls, you can hear the undergrowth crunching as someone hurries towards the woman’s body.

“I can’t see it,” the first voice says.

Frankie tugs on your wrist and you move through the forest, crouched low, back towards the road. You glance down at the baby, you’re trying to hold him steady in your left arm, holding your gun in your right. He looks back up at you with large blue eyes, mercifully silent for now.

You reach the road, there’s a strip of long grass between the edge of the forest and the asphalt and Frankie stops, sinking to his belly.

“Stay here,” he whispers, “I’m going to check if the coast is clear.”

You nod and he slowly crawls forward through the grass, lifting his head and glancing down the road. He can see a pick up truck further down the road but no people. Glancing behind him he waves you forward and he watches you begin to sneak forward through the grass but suddenly you freeze, looking at the other side of the road, and he turns. He curses under his breath when he sees two men appear from the trees and stop, looking up and down the road. Frankie hears you slowly back up, into the tree line again, out of sight. He risks a quick look over his shoulder, you’re concealed behind the trees again and he carefully crawls backwards through the grass.

“No sign of anyone, that car could’ve been there for years,” one of the men says, adjusting the rifle on his shoulder.

“I’m telling you, I came through here with Lowell a week ago and it wasn’t there then,” the second man replies.

“Yeah, but that was a week ago, whoever left it is long gone by now.”

“And maybe they’re not, I’m just saying it’s weird that the car is there just as that bitch cut Jake and ran.”

“So what? She’s dead now, and who cares about the kid? She’s been fucked by everyone of us, we ain’t gonna know who’s it is anyway.”

“Yeah, she’s dead and we’re down one worker, so we might as well try and grab whoever drove that car as compensation.”

You’ve heard more than enough, bile is rising in your throat as Frankie finally reaches you again and crouches next to you. He puts his mouth next to your ear and whispers. “Follow the treeline, stay out of sight, we’ll take their truck if we can get to it.”

You nod and he holds onto your wrist as he slowly moves through the forest, out of sight. There’s no one by the truck and Frankie quietly opens the driver's side door and feels around for the keys.

“Bingo,” he whispers as he grabs them, still hanging from the ignition, “Get in from this side, keep the baby quiet.”

You do as he says and slide down between the seat and the dash when he points you to it.

“Hold on tight, once I start it up they’ll be all over us, keep your head down,” he whispers, glancing around the truck. There’s an old hunting rifle in the back, not well maintained but when he picks it up and checks, he sees that it’s loaded.

He hands it over to you, “If I say so, leave the baby on the floor and shoot at anyone who’s coming after us, ok? They probably have at least one more car and they might have time to get to it once I start this.”

You nod and Frankie reaches for the keys, holding his breath, he turns it and the truck rumbles to life. He quickly throws it in drive and accelerates, through the open window you can hear shouts go up.

“Someone’s stealing the pickup! Get after ‘em! Quick!”

“Joey! Get the other fucking car!”

“Shoot the tyres, shoot for fucks’s sake!”

Gunshots ring out but Frankie is already swerving, zigzagging the truck down the road. A few bullets ping off the metal and Frankie glances behind him.

“Cariño, I’m gonna need you to take their car out, they’re coming after us,” he calls over the sound of the guns.

His eyes flit between you and the road as you climb up onto the seat and crouch down by the open back window. The rifle is heavier than what you’re used to but you manage to shoulder it and aim down the barrel.

“Yank back on the lever on the side to reload,” Frankie calls to you and you almost roll your eyes at him as you pull back on the bolt action. You can hear Benny’s voice in your head as you go through the motions and hold the rifle as steady as you can while the truck lurches, ‘Push it up first, then you slide it back, the bullet pops out and then you reverse it, easy!’

Your first shot goes wide, the sights on the gun wonky and old. You can feel Frankie glance at you in the rear view mirror as you reload. The second shot hits the side view mirror of the other truck, you wish you’d been aiming at it but it was pure luck. But it does have the benefit of making the driver jolt and swerve and one of the men in the back of the truck topples over and disappears from view.

A bullet slams into the back of the truck, making you jerk your head back, for a second you think you’ve been hit but nothing hurts and you take a deep breath, aiming out through the window again.

Your third bullet hits the grill, you’re getting the hang of the aim of the rifle.

“Keep the truck steady for a few seconds,” you yell back to Frankie, “I need to hit a tyre!”

He does as you say and you take careful aim as the other pickup gets closer. You squeeze the trigger gently but a bump in the road jolts your aim and the shot rings out, going wide and you curse loudly, quickly sliding back the bolt.

But Frankie whoops, “Fucking awesome shot, cariño!” and you look back at the truck, the driver is slumped over, the broken windshield splattered in blood. Behind it you see the other man try to take control of the wheel.

“Take him out!” Frankie yells, “You’ve got him!”

You aim at the tire again and this time your aim is on point, the tire blows up and the man loses control of the vehicle as it spins out of control. It careens into the ditch and Frankie floors the accelerator, putting distance between you and the slavers. You slump down in the passenger seat, letting out a long breath as Frankie gives your leg a quick squeeze.

“Best fucking shot I’ve ever seen, cariño, you’re fucking amazing!”

You give him a weak grin, and pick baby Jack up from the floor, cradling the little bundle into your arms. It suddenly hits you, now you’re responsible for this little one and the promise you made to his mother. You’re heading for Wyoming now and it feels like faith made a decision for you.

…

The truck has almost a full tank of gas and for that you’re grateful. Frankie doesn’t stop driving for hours, turning off the interstate and getting lost on smaller roads, skirting towns and villages, until you’re forced to stop and refuel.

Jack, the little baby boy, cries and sleeps throughout the day until you figure out that he can eat the spaghettios from a can and seems to like it.

“Thank god he eats solid food,” you say, carefully spooning another small bite into the boy’s mouth, “And thank god you’re a baby encyclopedia, Frankie.”

“Never thought I’d use all that knowledge again,” Frankie says, glancing down at baby Jack on your lap. “But you know this complicates things, we need to figure out how to feed him and keep him clean. We’re gonna have to wash those diapers pretty much every day.”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought, there’s already a dirty one wrapped up in the back, “Ok, that’s gonna be your job,” you say and Frankie chuckles.

“I already sacrificed a t-shirt for him, you can do the diaper washing.”

You look down at the little boy on your lap, he’s got your finger in a steady grip and as you watch him he yawns twice and closes his eyes. Soon he’s sleeping again and you cross both your legs, letting him rest in your lap with one of Frankie’s hoodies draped over him.

“How far is Wind River?” Frankie asks and you pull out the map again.

“It’s marked on the map as Wind River Reservation,” you say, tracing the outline of the reservation with your finger, “It looks like about five hundred miles away, so a day’s drive if we’re lucky. But then we have to find this group of people.” You sigh and look at the map of Wyoming, it’s a very big state, even Wind River looks huge.

“I don’t think we’ll find them,” Frankie says, “I say we stick to the original plan of getting to the foothills and finding somewhere safe to live. And even though it’s only June, we need to settle soon so that we can prepare for winter.” He looks over at you and down at the boy, “It’s not going to be easy, even for the two of us. With him…cariño, it’s going to be hard…he might not…” Frankie trails off and you nod, you know keeping a baby alive in this world is hard enough. Out here, on your own, it might prove impossible.

“We’ll figure it out, Frankie, somehow, we’ll be there in two or three days, and find somewhere to settle.”

…

‘Famous last words’, you think the next afternoon as you stand next to the car. The good news is that you’re well away from Nebraska and any pursuing slavers. The bad news is that you’re still a good fifty miles away from White River and even further from the foothills of the Rockies. And you’re out of gas. There hasn’t been a car in sight for two hours and the last one you saw had only water in the tank. The pickup spluttered to a halt after running on fumes for a good half an hour.

Frankie is going through the supplies the slavers had left in the truck, replacing some of the stuff in your packs before he shoulders the larger pack. Little baby Jack has been wrapped against your chest with a makeshift kangaroo pouch made from Frankie’s one clean hoodie. You carry the lighter pack on your back.

“That’s it,” Frankie says, “we’ll have to leave the rest but it’s mainly junk or too heavy.” He comes over to you after tossing the car keys on to the driver’s seat. “You ok, cariño?” His voice is soft as he looks down at you and the baby sleeping tucked against your chest, “It’s going to be a long walk but I know you can handle that, just let me know if he gets too heavy for you.”

“It’ll be fine, you’ve got the heavier pack anyway, Frankie,” you smile at him, trying to sound more alright than you actually are. The car represented some sort of safety out here, a way of running from danger. Now you feel exposed. You look around the empty prairie, nothing but grass until the hills appear on the horizon.

“I found you this in the truck,” Frankie holds out a weather worn John Deere ball cap, it’s grimy and sweat stained, “I’ll wash it when we pass some water but you’ll need it for the sun today.”

“Thanks, Frankie,” you say and stuff it in your back pocket for now and he takes your hand and starts walking, heading west along the highway, leaving the pickup behind.

…

Settlements are few and far behind in this part of Wyoming and it feels like you walk for hours without getting anywhere. The road looks the same, the landscape looks the same, just one big open sky above you and the sun beating down mercilessly. The only sign of time and distance passing is the sun slowly creeping down towards the mountains in the west. When it finally disappears it’s a relief, the evening air cooling your hot skin.

“There’s a river coming up in about two miles,” Frankie says, looking at the map and comparing it to a rusted road sign. “We should camp there for the night, get some fresh water and see if we can catch some fish.”

You nod, you feel dead on your feet and Frankie takes your hand, “Almost there cariño, then we can rest,” he says and gives you a kiss, “C’mon, not much further.”

You walk along the river for half a mile before you find a good sheltered spot. The night’s are still warm so there’s no need for a fire but Frankie pitches the small tent he got from the pickup. It gives baby Jack shelter from the wind while you change his diaper and feed him some of the spaghettios. Frankie comes back from the river with wet pants but a proud smile and a large trout hanging by the gills from his hand.

“Earned my nickname,” he grins, showing off his catch, “Jack might not be able to eat it but we’ll get a good meal tonight and tomorrow.

Sheltered behind a few rocks, Frankie risks a small fire, and quickly grills the trout, deboning it and serving you a large portion with a flourish that makes you laugh.

“Such a master chef, Frankie, this is the best fish I’ve had in years” you smile as he sits down next to you after kicking dirt over the fire to extinguish it.

“Not sure about ‘master chef’,” he chuckles, “hunger and fresh air probably has more to do with that taste.”

“Either way, I’m very impressed,” you lean into him and kiss his scruffy cheek. His whiskers are getting long again and they tickle your nose as you taste his soft skin. Frankie turns his head and catches your chin between his thumb and finger, pressing his warm lips against yours and you hum quietly under your breath. He feels so good and it’s been so long since you were in a place where you could relax enough to think about more than just a cuddle. Here isn’t safe either but the quiet of the open prairie around you lets you feel alone and secure. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and gently nibbles on it, you can feel his smile as you let your fingers thread through the curls sticking out under his cap.

“I really wish we had a room with a sturdy locked door,” he mumbles, his lips still close to yours, “I want you so fucking bad right now.”

“How fast can you get your pants back on if someone shows up?” you ask, cupping his rapidly swelling cock through his jeans. He groans and you can’t help but giggle at his instant reaction, his hips involuntarily thrusting up against your palm.

“Not fast enough, cariño,” he mutters, “fuck, we shouldn’t risk it but I really wanna fuck you right now.” The last words come as a groan as you palm him with a little bit more pressure, running your fingers along the outline of his hard length.

“Is the baby sleeping?” he asks, glancing over at the tent.

“Yeah, he’s down for the night I think,” you reply, sitting up a bit straighter and straining your ears to hear anything from around you.

“Hang on, cariño, hold that thought,” Frankie says and gets up, not without trouble. You’re camped in a small dip in the land, the river bank on the other side sheltering you from both the wind and anything, or anyone, else. He climbs out of the dip and looks around, the prairie is wide and flat, it feels like you can see for miles except for the few low trees and bushes that dot the landscape.

“C’mere,” he says as he returns down into the dip, “sit on my lap, if someone comes, I’ll shoot them with my dick out,” he’s smiling but his eyes are dark with lust.

You quickly pull off your pants and straddle his hips, reaching down to unbutton him and slip your hand into his boxers. He inhales when your hand closes around his thick length and you pull him free.

“Fuck…that feels so good, carino,” he groans as he caresses your hips, one hand moving up between your thighs to find you slick and warm. His fingers are soon coated in your wetness and you take his hand and make him spread it over his cock while you run your thumb through the silky drops on the fat head. He’s heavy and hard in your hand as you slide down, moving his hand out of way.

“You can come inside me today, Frankie,” you mumble, lining him up against your opening and your words, together with the feeling of your heat starting to envelop his swollen tip, makes him moan, his fingers digging harder into your hips as you slide down onto him.

As he stretches you open, you drop your head down onto his shoulder, his hands gently pulling you down over him. He’s starting to buck his hips up, planting his feet on the ground as he grinds himself deeper. You gasp against his neck when he’s got you flush against his hip, the coarse hairs at the base grazing over your clit. Frankie is already close, you can hear his breaths go short, growling as he hooks his hand over your shoulder and pulls you down again and again.

“Hermosa…” he gasps, “I’m not going to last, you feel too fucking good, so tight, fuck…” he groans and cups the back of your head, pulling you up so that he can slide his tongue into your mouth. You moan into him as his fingers find your clit and circles it with practiced ease. He knows so well how to bring your climax to the surface fast. Heat builds rapidly in your body, Frankie’s tongue slipping over yours with a steady rhythm that matches his thrusts and as he increases the pressure of his fingers just a little bit, you topple over the edge. Gasping into his mouth you feel him pump himself up into your hard, groaning under you as he fills you up, you can feel the heat of his spend even through the last waves of your own orgasm.

Leaning your foreheads together you listen to the silence around you and your heavy breaths. Your heart is racing in your chest and you can feel Frankie’s pulse thrumming under your fingers where you’re holding on to his neck. Your knees are killing you and you wince as you carefully push yourself up, letting him slip out of you. The hard ground has been digging into them, but you hadn’t even noticed while Frankie was inside you. Now you groan and stand up, carefully brushing off your legs.

Frankie is looking up at your thighs, he can see his load drip out of you in the dim light and it makes his soft cock twitch again. He grabs your hips and sits up straighter, making your gasp when his tongue dips into your slit. You can hear him chuckle as his fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, pulling you closer. His nose is nudging against your sensitive clit while he tastes himself on you, sliding the tip gently through your folds.

“Frankie,” you giggle, he’s tickling your oversensitive nerves, and you grab his curls, pushing him away as he looks up at you. His dimple sits deep in his cheek and his eyes are mischievous as he licks his lips.

“Perfect dessert, cariño,” he grins, smacking his lips.

“Dirty boy,” you smile back at him and turn to put your pants back on while he chuckles. He tucks himself away and you sit down next to him, leaning against him as he hooks his arm around your shoulders.

“If it wasn’t for the whole outbreak thing and constant threat of raiders and infected,” you say, threading your fingers through his, “this would be a perfect ‘Frankie date’.”

Frankie chuckles low behind your head, “I used to serve you better food than just plain trout on those dates. And give you better sex.”

“That was plenty good sex, dirty boy,” you smile, turning your head so that you can reach his lips. You can still taste your combined releases on him and you kiss him again. He leans his head against yours and you hear him yawn and you should tell him to go to bed, to sleep while you take the first watch. But you remain sitting, wrapped up in his warmth and the feeling of having a more normal version of Frankie really close by for the first time in months.

Despite the dangers of the open country around you, you can’t regret your decision to leave the QZ. You meant what you said to him while the withdrawals were plaguing his body; you’d rather have a little time with him out here than watch him waste away in the QZ.

“I love you, Frankie,” you say, looking out into inky darkness around your campsite.

“I love you too, hermosa,” he mumbles behind you and you feel his arms tighten their hold.

Chapter 35

Taglist: @pimosworld @i-own-loki @casa-boiardi @littlenosoul @stormseyer @mxtokko @javicstories @nunya7394 @welcometothepedroverse @harriedandharassed @meveispunk @hiroikegawa @jwritesfanfics @vickie5446 @your-slutty-gf

[peaches2217]

Traduzione Non Necessarie

*Sequel of sorts to Traduzione, Per Favore?. Y'all are gonna want Google Translate/DeepL/your translation service of choice on hand for this one.

AO3 link!

~~~

Peach pulled in a deep, steady breath, slowing and finally stopping the transfer of her magic. Five seconds. That seemed like a good number, nice and round. Her heart fluttered nervously as she withdrew her hand from Mario’s brow, waiting for a response.

She knew exactly how much magic it took to send him into a deep slumber. Anything before that point was merely guesswork. She could only hope she had guessed correctly.

At present, she didn’t put too much stake into that hope. Mario’s eyes wouldn’t open all the way, it seemed, no matter how hard he tried, and his pupils were blown so wide she could hardly see the blues of his irises. Perhaps the five seconds had still been too much.

“How do you feel?” she asked.

It took him a few moments to respond, his head lolling back and forth as he thought. “Hmm… kinda like…” He exhaled sharply, the rest of his body going into an unsteady sway. “Feel kinda like a big ole’... wet spaghetti noodle, maybe… all dizzy ‘n’... phew…”

Peach rushed to steady him before he lost his balance, planting her feet firmly into the ground so he wouldn’t immediately knock her over if that came to pass.

Too much. She would know to reign it in even further next time.

Still, as she helped him to the ground, he seemed perfectly content. He sprawled out in the fresh summer grass with his arms spread, basking in the sunlight like a photosynthesizing plant.

“Mm.” He nuzzled his cheek into a patch of grass beneath him. “Soft.”

The sight drew a fond, amused smile from Peach, and she made herself comfortable beside him. 

This had become a ritual of sorts, one of their many excuses to extend their time in each other’s company. It began as a random suggestion as they chatted one day while awaiting a tardy diplomat, one that hadn’t been entirely serious: Peach’s magic could touch both the body and the mind. She had become skilled in healing, practicing on her own scrapes and bruises as far back as early childhood. Broken skin now mended instantly beneath her touch, and, with a greater deal of effort, she could even reverse infections and heal broken bones.

Her ability to manipulate the mind — or, rather, the sheer scale of that power, the tales of predecessors who had corrupted themselves beyond redemption through its abuse — terrified her. She had distanced herself from that power in response. But it still lay deep within her, whether she wanted it to or not, and the realization that she didn’t even know how to wield it scared her almost as much.

Having confided this in Mario, he had in turn offered himself as a test subject (a “geh-knee-pig,” specifically, some charming otherworldly colloquialism meaning roughly the same thing). Peach had laughed it off, at least until he brought it up again of his own volition the next time they were together.

“I wouldn’t know where to begin,” she had confessed.

“You could try shutting my brain off,” he had suggested back. “And hey! You wouldn’t even have to worry about putting me into a coma, because you could reverse that pretty easily, right?”

He had found his joke quite funny, so she never had the heart to admit she had spent his first slumbering spell obsessively checking his pulse in response. Just in case.

Mercifully it never came to that. She learned to bring him rest with increasing care, and she learned further that the sight of Mario sound asleep, all of his cares far from his mind, was among her favorite sights in the world.

Inducing sleep had become second nature to her. She wanted to practice further control, hone the fine motor skills of her greater magic. So today, she had asked to put Mario into a trance rather than full sleep, and he had happily agreed.

He would be getting sleep anyway, so it seemed.

“Forgive me,” Peach said, slipping off her high heels and setting them to her far side. He was right. The grass was lovely and soft beneath her soles.

“Huh?” was Mario’s well thought-out response.

“It was too much.”

He stretched his arms high above his head, his back arching from the force of it. “‘S’okay, Princess.” He paused to yawn noisily before continuing. “Today, I take a nap! Tomorrow we try again. I win either way!” 

Always looking on the bright side. She expected nothing less from him.

She watched him as he made himself comfortable, drinking in every little detail. The pale freckles dotting his tanned skin which she had committed to memory like a star map, the single gray hair in his mustache, his unruly curls exposed from beneath his cap, which had fallen halfway off and was pinned beneath his head. The gentle arch of his thick eyebrows, the thin lines beneath his eyes… lines that were darker and more pronounced than usual, she noticed now.

Peach sighed to herself, fighting against the temptation to run a hand through his dark locks. Perhaps her slip-up was fortuitous after all. 

It hadn’t come out of nowhere, Mario’s suggestion that she practice by putting him to sleep. When he wasn’t a beacon of unbridled energy, he was curled up someplace high off the ground, snoozing away. Peach always found it cute, his unabashed fondness for napping. But the more they got to know each other, the more hours they spent in aimless conversation, she had discovered it was no mere quirk. He hadn’t told anyone that he struggled to sleep at night. At least not until he told her.

He would never admit the extent of it to her. He didn’t necessarily hide or deny it, the fact that he wrestled with his own thoughts and memories more often than he cared to admit, the fact that he lived in understated but constant fear of being unavailable to protect those he was charged to protect, the fact that, when he did find sleep on his own, it was often unsteady and filled with nightmares. But he wouldn’t say any of this outright.

In learning to control her magic, Peach could help him. She could give him reprieve where he might not normally have such a luxury. But she wanted to do more. He was her dearest friend, and she loved him as such and far beyond, and she wished more than anything to be a pillar of support for him when he couldn’t support himself. After all, she knew better than to assume him invincible. He was only human.

But he refused to take her up on the offer. His burdens weren’t hers to bear, he would insist. “Not your fault I’ve got too many thoughts bouncing around this big head!” And then he’d tapped his knuckles to his head for emphasis, giving her a cheeky smile. She didn’t find it quite so amusing.

It baffled Peach. He trusted her with the control of his very mind, yet even now she hadn’t earned his full vulnerability. More than once she had wondered if his volunteerism was an invitation, or a request of sorts. Did he want her to know of these things? Did he merely have trouble articulating them? “He’s not always the best with words, you know,” Luigi had said time and again.

It would be so easy. With a single touch, she could know it all. She could see his emotional scars, the images that haunted him most, his deepest, most locked-away secrets. He wouldn’t have to tell her anything; she could just know. How deeply into his mind was she welcome to dig?

That was a line Peach refused to cross, or even entertain with any great gravity, until she was given express permission. And right now, her only permissions were to aid him in rest. She swallowed and wet her lips. 

“May I?” She extended her hand to Mario once more, hoping the gesture was clear enough in his hazy state of mind. He peered up at her through heavy lids, but he nodded without hesitation, letting those lids fall shut as she touched his forehead.

Brushing his curls from his face, she closed her eyes, conjured her chosen thoughts, and let the images flow from her fingertips into his subconscious.

Normally she waited until he was asleep to do this part. Once slumber claimed him, she would fill his head with scenes of softness and warmth, vague but peaceful images that might trigger pleasant dreams. But what was the harm in getting an early start? He’d be out cold in five minutes tops anyway.

Today she transferred to him something a bit more specific: memories of their afternoons in her private garden, sharing cakes and tarts and chatting until the light faded from the sky. It was… selfish, perhaps, her hope that he might dream of her. But more than once he had told her that their shared time together meant the world to him. Such memories would no doubt bring him the most serene sleep.

Selfish urges were okay if they aided someone else too. That was her own unsteady justification.

Within moments, a smile spread across Mario’s face. “Ahh…” He turned his head in the direction of her touch, and she followed it, tapering the flow of memories and cupping his cheek. His skin was warm against her palm, the heat permeating her silken gloves. His Firebrand made his body temperature unnaturally high, he had once explained, though rarely did she get to feel the evidence for herself.

How often had she dreamed of cupping his cheek just like this, feeling him blush beneath her? How often did she use sleep as an excuse to escape into a world of fantasy, one in which he loved her just as fiercely as she loved him?

A chuckle jolted Peach back into reality. “W-what?” she asked, cautiously drawing her hand away. A wave of paranoia flooded her when Mario didn’t answer, just laughed some more.

“‘Il mio amico Mario è tondo e peloso,'” he said, and the paranoia lifted at once.

“‘Come una pesca,’” she finished. She hadn’t accidentally broadcast her selfish thoughts to his subconscious, she realized with no shortage of relief. He was remembering.

“Ah, brava, principessa!” He pressed his thumb to his index and middle fingers, his hand bouncing with each upward lilt in intonation. “Il tuo accento migliora di giorno in giorno.”

Peach couldn’t help but giggle with him. “Grazie,” she said, though she hadn’t understood most of the last part. Of all the memories he chose to cling to in his state of near-sleep, he chose the time she had accidentally and all too casually slighted him? (To be fair, it was quite funny, yes, but still.)

Reluctantly, she withdrew her touch once more, watching as he relaxed in the embrace of pleasant memories. The dark shadows beneath his eyes seemed to lighten, though whether this image was real or imagined she couldn’t say for sure.

Peach swallowed again. Her throat felt tight. These shared moments helped ease whatever struggles weighed him down, and for that she was grateful. But why couldn’t he bring those struggles to her before they robbed him of sleep? Why couldn’t he let the world fall from his shoulders long enough to entrust some of that weight to her?

“Mario?”

“Mm?”

She wrung her hands together, making her best effort to separate familiar sounds into still-new words. “Sai che puoi… dirmi… qualsiasi cosa,” she managed at last. You know you can tell me anything.

Mario’s face lit up in recognition, and she couldn’t help but be proud of herself. She’d never said it aloud herself before. It was always him saying it to her during their informal Italian lessons, encouraging her past her embarrassment, egging her on to ask questions no matter how silly she feared they might be.

“Oh, dai, sai che puoi dirmi qualsiasi cosa,” he’d say, nudging her if he was near enough, equal parts teasing and sincere. “Lo so,” she had learned to say in response, nudging him back if she was able.

Maybe she could get through to him this way, speaking to him in his native tongue when he was too tired to put up his guard. Maybe he would give her a “Lo so” of his own, and maybe, just maybe, he would follow through.

But that wasn’t the response Mario gave her. “Mm… davvero?” he said instead, his voice quiet with what Peach presumed was encroaching slumber. “E se ti dicessi che sei il mio sole e stelle? Questo la non turberebbe?”

A few moments passed in silence. Peach didn’t recall practicing any phrase set resembling this. Yet he was looking up at her, fixedly, as though he were expecting an answer to whatever question he had just posed.

There was something… oddly sad in his expression. He didn’t seem distraught, and no tears welled in the corners of his eyes, but his usual cheer was muddied with a sort of melancholy.

She didn’t like this feeling. She didn’t like seeing him like this. Her stomach turned and leapt painfully, as though urging her to do something.

“...Mind repeating that?”

Mario didn’t repeat himself. He redirected his eyes upward, focusing that sad smile on the sky above them, and Peach followed his gaze, a bit miffed. A fluffy cloud passed overhead amidst more modest and wispy offerings. It looked rather like a Jammyfish.

“Peach,” he said after a moment of silent contemplation, and that caught her attention, because she was never Peach. Even when he stood at her side as her trusted guard, even when he took her hands and pulled her from the castle grounds, urging her to follow him to some great sight waiting for her in town, even when they walked privately through rolling fields and let their shared presence ease countless unvoiced burdens, she was always Princess. Sometimes Principessa, rarely Your Highness, but never Peach. 

She wanted desperately to hear her name on his voice again.

Closing his eyes, Mario laughed, that giddy, sleepy laugh she knew she could never get enough of, and granted her wish. “Oh, Peach,” he repeated, his coherency rapidly slipping away, “there’s so much I want to tell you.”

That deep and unidentifiable sadness deepend in Peach’s gut. “Then why not tell me?” She startled at the desperation that leaked into her tone, clearing her throat in impulse and praying he hadn’t heard it. Why not trust me when you’re awake as much as you trust me when you’re asleep?

“Mi perdonerei mai,” he slurred.

“Mario, I don’t know what you’re saying.”

He hummed a torpid apology, folding his arms beneath his head. “Well,” he rephrased, “I’m just… I dunno. You know? I am. And that’s not…” He shrugged. “And then you… you’re…” 

“I’m…?” Peach pressed, fearing she already knew the answer. You’re a princess. That was one of his very few quirks that frustrated her. Never mind that he was only human, and never mind that she was his best friend. She was a princess, and he was a hero, and it was his sacred duty to internalize anything he feared might burden her, no matter how desperately she wished he would lean on her, be vulnerable with her, trust in her.

His answer was buried beneath a yawn, so quiet she almost didn’t catch it: “You’re everything.” 

Birdsong and the distant chatter of groundskeepers carried the silence that ensued.

You’re everything. Those two words swirled around Peach’s brain in a dizzying cyclone. What did that mean? You’re everything, a ruler and a leader and a friend, and I could never bother you with my own problems ? You’re already doing everything you can and telling you about the things you have no sway over just isn’t worth it ?

“You’re everything,” he might say one quiet evening, somewhere in the midst of soft kisses and tender touches, and she would tell him then that he was her everything too.

Peach clenched her teeth. 

She had found the courage just a few weeks earlier to ask how one might express love in his native tongue, “like I might say to Toadsworth or you might say to Luigi.”

She hadn’t expected to learn that there was more than one way to say it. “Ti voglio bene,” he told her. “That’s how I’d say it to Luigi or to Toad — or to you!”

And how would your mother have said it to your father? How would I say it to you ? Peach couldn’t even begin to amass that sort of courage.

Mario lay still beside her, his chest rising and falling evenly. Her fingers twitched.

She could dig as deeply as she liked. She could see his every thought and he wouldn’t know, so long as he didn’t wake. She could finally know those things he refused to tell her, she could know his struggles intimately, she could finally begin formulating ways to really and truly help him.

At the very least, she could see for herself what dreams ran through his head at the moment. Was he dreaming of her, just as she dreamed each night of him?

…Perhaps she could sway his mind far deeper still. Perhaps she could make him…

Balling her hands into fists, Peach sighed, laying back in the grass. She understood now more than ever how her predecessors had so easily become drunk on this power. But she wasn’t her predecessors. And she wouldn’t betray what trust Mario had freely given her.

Sei il mio tutto.

Maybe one day she could say as much. Maybe one day she would stop creating fantastical scenarios in her head, and she would stop wanting more than she was already blessed with, and she would stop being so selfish and be content with meeting Mario where he was rather than wishing for more, more, more.

Maybe she could say it then, when she truly deserved to.

[unseededtoast]

Turtle Doves | Joel Miller

Part Twelve

Chapter Directory

Series Summary: In which two broken souls connect so deeply, that if one should perish, the other would surely die of a broken heart. (slow burn, timeline changes. After TLOU1, before TLOU2, assumed knowledge of infected, uses elements from both show and game)

Series Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, death, and sexual content.

Also cross-posted on Wattpad and AO3. Link to my masterlist for everything else I’ve posted!

"Don't take another step."

Someone nudging my shoulder wakes me from my sleep. I lazily blink my eyes open and see Joel staring down at me with his chocolate brown eyes. He probably either found something, or it's time to keep walking. Either way, my time on this mattress is coming to a sad close, and I wish I could stay here forever. My limbs stretch out before I get up, soaking in one last moment on the soft bed.

Joel moves out of my way as I get up and put my bag on my back. He picks his up as well and opens the camper door for me. The day is hot, the air is sticky with humidity.

"Follow me." He says and walks ahead of me, leading me further into the campground. Joel has some unusual pep in his step, and it's getting my hopes up that he found something good.

The rest of the campground is desolate, it's probably been abandoned for a decade now. It's almost like a time capsule, everything is exactly where it was left ten years ago. There are children's bicycles left, tents that have been blown over, and remnants of happy memories everywhere I look. Once upon a time, this place would have been a lovely destination for a weekend getaway.

The campers become less densely packed as he keeps walking deeper into the woods.

"I thought you said you weren't going far." I call him on his lie. His shoulders shrug in front of me.

"I guess it's all a matter of perspective." He refutes and I let out a short laugh.

"I'll have to keep that in mind." I say as we pass a rusted out truck.

We walk a few more paces until I see a blue pickup truck sitting out by itself. It looks a little out of place, like it should be back towards the front where most of the campers are. Joel comes to a stop in front of it and lightly smacks his hand on the hood. I'll admit, it's one of the nicest looking cars I've seen in a while. The rust is at a minimum, it still has all the doors and windows. In my eyes, this truck is on par with a Rolls Royce.

"Does it work?" I ask before my hopes get too high. This truck could need parts before it runs. And if that's the case, who knows how long we'll be here searching for them.

"It runs, we just need some gas." He says and I nod. I knew we couldn't get lucky enough to find a car without any sort of issue to deal with.

"Okay, then let's find some gas." I say, hopeful that in this campground there's fuel stored somewhere. Sure, it's frustrating that our trip is being delayed, but the thought of finally having a car offsets any negativity about searching for gas.

The two of us split up, each taking one side of the campground to make the most of our time. I start at the front and decide to make my way back towards the truck. I search through the unlocked campers and cars left to rot, finding nothing of real use in the front. In the back half of the campground I find a gas container with a quarter tank, it's better than nothing. Other than that, I don't find anything.

Joel and I reconvene at the truck after thoroughly searching. It seems his search was more fruitful, he's got two full containers in his hands.

"Where'd you find all that?" I'm not sure how he got so lucky. He just shrugs,

"Was just layin' around." He opens the gas cap of the truck and pours the gas into it. Hopefully this gets us a few hundred miles at least.

I watch as he tosses the empty gas can aside and climbs into the driver's seat. He rubs his hands together excitedly before turning the key in the ignition. The truck makes a few clicking sounds before it finally roars to life with a deep growl. It's music to my ears and I can't keep the wide smile off my face.

"I can't believe it." My voice is awestruck as I climb into the passenger side. The seats are faux leather and the air in here is quite stale and stuffy. Joel begins navigating back to the road as I roll the windows down and let my arm hang out the window.

He drives us out of the campground and we're back en route. The wind whips my hair around in the truck and my eyes close as I take in the feeling. It's been so long since I can remember enjoying driving with the windows down. We drive for miles as I soak in the almost forgotten feeling.

Opening my eyes, I look over to Joel, who has a small smirk on his face. His eyes glance from the road over to me before flicking back to the road. I roll the window halfway up, the air becoming a little much.

"Thought you fell asleep over there." He says. I shake my head and try to tame my hair from the wind.

"No, I slept pretty well. I think we can count that as a five star hotel." I flip down the mirror attached to the visor on the ceiling and use it to part my hair the correct way before glancing over to Joel. He just shakes his head with the same smirk on his face, and then we fall back into our usual silence.

Deciding I can use this time for something other than looking out of the window, I grab my bag and unzip it, grabbing the map. It's torn around the edges from wear, but is still intact enough that it won't disintegrate if it gets folded the wrong way. My eyes find the spot where we just passed through, marked with the star. The stars must mean other groups, so we'll want to avoid those in the future.

I look ahead in our route to see what we'll be coming up on. The next group we should be crossing paths with are the Fireflies. It'll be interesting to see what happens when we get to that point. I know both Joel and I dislike them, but they're also involved in the slaughter of children in QZs. For that reason alone I want to seek them out, just to see if there's any information we can get from them.

But then again, if Joel was there when Marlene died, other people might know about that and it might complicate things. I heavily sigh as I weigh the pros and cons of finding them.

Then again, Joel doesn't have to go with me to seek them out. He's more than welcome to keep going and if he wants, we can meet back up after I'm done. One way or another I know I need to find them, and I need to see for myself the extent of their involvement with the T group. In my mind, there's more to lose from not finding them and not getting every ounce of information that I possibly can. From my estimate, if we keep driving for the rest of the day, we should reach them by tomorrow afternoon. That's assuming we don't run into any obstacles.

I fold the map back up and put it inside my bag and my fingers find the two scraps of paper I found in the fire back near Boston. The word "immune" strikes me, and my thumb runs over the ink. What could this mean? What context was it written in? Does it even have anything to do with this?

Surely it has to, it was among other vital pieces of information like the note and the map. But why would they burn this letter and not the rest?

Joel glances over to see what I'm holding and his eyebrows draw tightly together. He reads the word on the scorched paper and his eyes trail up to meet mine. His jaw sets and he swallows hard. It reminds me of the night we spent in the little suburban home, how he went over all the evidence.

"What is it?" My mouth blurts out before I can stop myself. I have to know why he's acting this way about the evidence. Out of the corner of my eye, I see his hand grab the steering wheel more tightly and his knuckles turn white. But his face relaxes and he shakes his head,

"Nothin'." His subpar answer lingers in the air between us. I have a gut feeling he's not telling the entire truth, and it's really starting to get under my skin.

"It's not nothing. What do you know?" I ask him, my voice firm. My eyes scan over his face for any clues, but his demeanor is cool and collected, save for his death grip on the steering wheel.

"I don't know anything." His voice is deep and has a tone of finality, urging me not to continue on. I bite my tongue before I begin accusing him of things I'm not even sure of and look back out the window.

An anxious feeling creeps up my spine as I try to rationalize why he would want to keep information away from me. It's plain as day now that he definitely knows something, and it has to be centered around this one scribbled word. He reacted to it back in the suburbs, and he reacted to it again just now.

If he's willing to go out of his way to save me not once, but twice, and is sincere enough to keep his word about tagging along until Omaha, then what could possibly be so classified that he won't tell me? It just doesn't make sense. And in that moment, the man who once made me feel safe, makes me feel uneasy. Maybe I wrongfully placed my trust in him too soon.

Quietly, I place the scrap of paper back in my bag and zip it up. The bag now rests in my lap and I crane my neck even more so that I can't even see him out of my peripheral vision. My heart thumps in my chest and I try to calm myself. Wild thoughts run rampant in my mind with theories about what's going on, but not one theory is able to check every box of the situation.

As the day goes on, the trip continues to pass in silence. After hours of mulling over my theories, I still can't settle on anything that makes total sense. Everything about his behavior is paradoxical to me. Until I can figure it out, I think it's best if I keep my distance and and keep my mouth shut. He already knows a fair bit about me, but I know practically nothing about him. There's a power imbalance here and that adds to my uneasiness.

Our silence is now filled with tension once more, and my nervously tapping foot is the only thing that fills the quiet cab of the truck. The sun has set and the headlights of this truck are very dim. Truthfully, it's probably dangerous to be driving with such dim lights but I don't care. I just want this truck to get us as far as possible.

Unfortunately, he doesn't keep driving through the night. No, he finds a rest area off the highway and stops at it, pulling the truck over the curb and into the woods for cover. As soon as the truck is put into park I get out and sling my bag over one shoulder. My feet can't carry me fast enough as I make my way to one of the small buildings.

I duck behind one and revel in the feeling of being alone, being away from the suffocating silence and tension. My chest deflates with a sigh and I turn my attention towards the dark sky, dotted with bright stars. For a few moments my problems melt away, it's just me and the wide open sky. My fingers wrap around the gold chain around my neck as I gaze at the stars, hoping that somehow the right answer will come to me. Should I stay with Joel? Should I go on my own? I just don't know.

I don't have enough time to dwell on it as I hear Joel's footsteps crunching in the woods next to me. Fixing my posture, I bend over and make it look like I was tying the laces of my boot and not debating whether or not I should take off. As casually as I can, I look up through my eyelashes and see Joel coming out of the woods in front of me, logs tucked underneath one of his arms. He looks at me quizzically, and I think quick to excuse my hightailing.

"Sorry I um, I just had to go." I say, implying that I ran off for the bathroom. He nods his head once and then clears his throat.

"Was thinkin' we could build a fire out here." He gestures to the sidewalk that borders the woods. Like last night, there's a risk to it, but it's not a detrimental one, at least I don't think.

"Yeah, that's fine." I say and stand up from my kneeling position. He walks in front of me, his shoulders tight with tension and I'm not entirely sure it's from hauling firewood.

I stay a few feet back as Joel constructs the fire, much like he did last night. He does it with an expertise that shows how long he's been out here for. Leaning against a nearby tree I chew on my fingernails, my brain unable to let me be calm. Joel lights the fire and he takes a seat on the plush grass, stretching out.

"I can take watch tonight." He offers. While the offer is nice, I don't know if I'll be able to sleep. There are several reasons why I should trust him by now, but there's also one major reason why I can't. I shake my head, turning down his offer.

"That's okay, I'm not even really tired. Plus you drove all day." My lie comes quick and smooth. He looks up at me, and I worry he's going to see through my facade. He shrugs his shoulders,

"Doesn't bother me." His voice sounds sincere and I wish I could accept his offer as easily as I did last night.

"I might stay up and plan a little." This isn't the entire truth, but it's not a complete lie either.

"Plan for what?" His brown eyes are illuminated by the fire. Nervousness crawls over my skin.

"Um, just, just for our next stop." I say, deciding that this conversation has to happen eventually.

"What stop is that?" He readjusts his position on the ground so he can look at me easier.

"The Fireflies. We're going to run into them next." I flatly state, waiting for his reaction. Joel's eyebrows shoot up,

"Thought you hated the Fireflies?" His voice is gruff and he sounds irritated. My head nods, agreeing with him.

"I do. And as much as I hate to admit it, I have to talk to them. You saw, their emblem was on that letter. They're involved in this and I can't just pass it up." I feel slightly more confident. He huffs with annoyance and I try to keep my facial expression under control, he can't know how apprehensive I am right now.

"Damn Fireflies." Is all he says, and I think I was hoping for more insight. I decide to leave the conversation there, not wanting to tread on rough waters with him again.

Eventually I take a seat on the grass across the way from Joel. The fire's smoke burns my lungs each time I inhale, but I don't mind it. My thoughts are too occupied with my own internal conflict.

Am I overreacting about what happened earlier? After all, this is the same man who helped me over the barricade, saved me from the perverted men in the town, and insisted he stay with me until Omaha. If his intentions with me were foul, he's had plenty of time to act and he hasn't. But there's something about how defensive he got that's concerning.

My repeating thoughts are interrupted as I hear twigs breaking in the woods behind me. My hand reaches for the curved blade and I'm on my feet in the blink of an eye. There's a shadow moving in the trees, I see it coming closer. Joel stands by my side and pushes me behind him slightly, a knife in his hand as well.

"Don't take another step." Joel's voice threatens. The footsteps stop. It's not an infected. My head turns from side to side to watch for anyone else that may be tagging along with his person.

"I'm just passing through." A manly voice calls back and the footsteps resume. My grip on my knife gets tighter, ready to use it if things go sideways.

"Walk towards me with your hands up." Joel demands. Through the darkness I see the man's hands fly up in surrender and he takes slow steps towards us. I back up so that the man can come to the light, so we can see his face.

He's a young kid, maybe early twenties. His hair is all disheveled, clothes tattered and torn. There's a fear in his eyes as he steps out towards us, like he's never been in this situation before. Raised high above his head, his hands tremble.

"Sit on the ground and cross your ankles." Joel instructs, knife still at the ready. Quickly, the young man nods his head and follows Joel's instructions. I put my knife away, seeing as how Joel has this covered apparently.

"Who are you?" Is Joel's next demand. The kid's eyes raise to meet his.

"Name's Tate." His voice cracks as he talks. From his perspective, Joel has to be terrifying. He's a large man with a knife, of course he's going to be scary. And I'll admit deep down he scares me too.

"What're you doin' out here?" Joel's form is rigid and tense.

"Like I said I'm just passing through." The kid's wide eyes turn to me and Joel snaps his fingers.

"Don't look at her, eyes stay right here." Joel points to his face. The boy nods his head and tears his gaze off of me. The kid's nervousness causes him to keep blabbering.

"I swear man. I'm headed to Pittsburgh. I've got family out that way." Joel shifts his weight, refusing to lower his weapon.

"Pittsburgh is full of raiders and hunters." The kid swallows hard at Joel's words and a look of exasperation comes over him.

"What? No, no that can't be right. How do you know?" Joel sighs and adjusts his knife in his hand.

"Went through there a while ago. Checkpoint's been abandoned. I can almost guarantee that your people aren't there anymore for one reason or another." The kid looks down from Joel's face and I think he might get sick.

I look over what the young man has on him and see that he's travelling suspiciously light. In fact, I don't even see a bag anywhere. If he's travelling all the way to Pittsburgh with nothing but the clothes on his back, he has to be trying to evade something, or someone. Finding my voice, I speak up.

"Where's your stuff at?" Both Joel and Tate look over to me. Joel looks angry and Tate looks confused. Tate's mouth hangs open for a few seconds as he digests the question.

"This is all I have." He confirms my thoughts, which makes me even more curious about why he's out here.

"You're travelling to Pittsburgh with no supplies?" My voice is obviously skeptical. This could be some sort of trap for all we know. Tate's head nods.

"I didn't have a choice. The Fireflies are losing their damn minds, everyone's trying to take charge and it's a mess." His voice seems to calm down as he speaks to me.

"How many are left?" I ask, hoping that there's enough there that someone is bound to know something. Tate shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't know, maybe thirty, maybe less by now." His voice trails off at the end of his sentence and he glances back to Joel, who has not stopped staring him down.

If Tate is fleeing from the Fireflies, he might be more likely to spill what he knows. After all, if he has no loyalty he doesn't have to worry about covering for anyone. Within seconds I'm fishing out the pieces of paper from my bag and I bring them over to Tate. The documents are fanned out in my hands and I sit beside him, letting him look over the materials. His eyes scan over them, reading the instruction note twice.

"What do you know about this?" My voice is low and somber. Tate's eyes meet mine,

"I don't know. This looks like serious shit though. I wasn't high ranking enough to know about stuff like that. No, I was the one who they sent out to kill infected and to be people's bodyguards. But if you get to their base, I'm willing to bet Trevor knows something." His words seem genuine, and I pack all the documents back into my bag.

"Trevor." I confirm and he nods his head. It seems like he's being honest, lies usually aren't that thorough. Standing from my spot beside Tate, I walk to Joel and meet his hard gaze.

"I think we should let him go." I whisper so Tate can't hear. Something tells me that Joel doesn't want him making it out of here alive, but I don't think Tate is going to be any sort of threat to us. Joel's eyes bounce between me and Tate, looking uncertain.

"What if he's lyin'?" Joel asks and I sigh.

"I don't think he is. Look at him, he's scared. Doesn't seem the type to hurt others." I glance over my shoulder at the skinny kid sitting with his ankles still crossed.

"Fine. You can let him go, but you're taking watch if you do." Joel grumbles and brushes past me. I roll my eyes at him before I turn around to meet Tate once more.

"Get out of here." I say, kicking the side of his shoe.

"Really? You're going to let me go?" He sounds shocked, and I nod my head and gesture for him to get going. Tate scrambles to his feet and takes off through the woods again without another word. I hope he finds whoever it is he's searching for, poor kid.

I watch him until I can't see or hear him anymore, and then take a seat across from Joel at the fire once more. He's obviously angry, but I don't care that much. In a passive-aggressive protest, he's turned his back to me to sleep, and I try to make myself comfortable on the sidewalk for another long night of keeping watch.

[plentyoffandoms]

Tommy Miller x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ TV Shows Masterlist ♡ Miscellaneous TV Shows Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Warnings: Some swearing.

WC: 3138

Gifs & photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @networkluna

Summary: f/Reader was in a relationship with Tommy before he leaves the QZ. She joins Joel, Tess & Ellie along with her twin sons to find Tommy, & when they finally see him, it doesn't go how she expected it.

YN'S POV:

When I found out Joel was going to find Tommy, I knew I had to tag along. At first, Tess wasn't happy that I was coming along.

Not because she thought I wanted Joel, but because she made a promise to Tommy, that she was going to keep me safe, and by keeping me safe, that was keeping me in the QZ.

I met Tommy when he and Joel first arrived in the Boston QZ. I was instantly drawn to them. They barely spoke to anyone when they first arrived but I was able to get to know Tommy after we ended up working on the same shifts. I learned about his life before the Outbreak.

But Tommy started to hate it in the place I have learned to call home. A place that was free from the Infected. Yeah, the people in charge were pieces of shit. He then met Marlene and became enthralled with the idea of the Fireflies and their ideas.

He was convinced that they could change the world and make it a better place for us, but they were just ideas.

When he would bring up me and Joel joining the Fireflies, I would gently turn him down as I hated seeing his face crestfallen.

Now him bringing it up to Joel, would cause a massive fight between the two of them. I would end up leaving them alone and heading to my place before curfew.

I would usually find Tommy at my door, needing a place to stay while he cooled off from his fight with Joel.

The two of us found solace in one another. We started as friends with benefits. Then I found myself falling for the charming man who was only a few years older than me.

After many months of the two of us hooking up, I told Tommy I couldn't see him anymore.

"Why not? Haven't I been good to you YN?" He asked me. Him clearly confused.

"Yeah, Tommy but I just can't keep doing this. I can't keep pretending that everything is fine when," I trailed off. I couldn't even continue my sentence.

"When what, YN?" He stood up from his spot on the couch, in my apartment.

"Doesn't even matter Tommy."

"Come now baby girl, tell me what is wrong." He went to put his arms around me to console me but I just shrugged him off.

"I can't keep pretending everything is fine when I have fallen for you."

"We made a deal that we wouldn't do that YN." His voice was low as he put his arms at his side.

"I know but I just couldn't help it. I tried to fight it, I did Tommy."

He opened his mouth to say something else when he closed it, turned around and grabbed his coat and walked out the door, slamming it behind him.

He left me standing there, stunned at what just happened.

My heart felt like it shattered into a billion pieces at that very moment, instantly regretting having this conversation.

I made myself busy and took on extra shifts to keep myself occupied. It worked during the day, but when I was alone, the thoughts came rushing back.

A few days after our conversation, I found myself re-reading Anne of Green Gables for what seemed to be the 100th time, there was a knock on my door.

It was past curfew, and I knew that no one should be coming.

I got up and looked through the peephole and to my surprise it was Joel. I opened the door and I could by the look on his face that this wasn't a happy visit.

"What's wrong?"

"We have to go, now." He said to me.

"Joel, I am not leaving and risk getting caught unless you tell me what the hell is going on." I stood my ground for once with him.

"It's Tommy. He got into a fight and he won't let me nor Tess fix him up. He is asking for you." That had me pushing past Joel, not caring if I got caught for being out past curfew. I had to get to Tommy.

But that night, if it wasn't for Joel, I most certainly would have been caught.

The two of us walked quietly and swiftly through the streets of Boston QZ and made it to Joel's apartment.

"I have to warn yeah YN, he got it pretty bad." I nodded my head in understanding, waiting with bated breath as he took his time to open his door.

I could hear Tommy and Tess arguing.

The two of them quieted down when Joel and I walked in. Tess looked relieved and moved away from Tommy.

"Joel and I will just be in the other room." She said as she placed her hand on my shoulder and squeezed it.

I got to work, doing my best to clean him up as best as I could, with what little I had. The two of us didn't speak, me trying to concentrate and him, well who knows why.

"YN," He finally spoke. I stopped bandaging his hand and looked up at him, but the anger I felt towards him came rushing back at that very moment.

"YN, will you please look at me."

"Why? I have nothing to say to you, Tommy."

"That isn't true baby girl." My head snapped up at the nickname.

"You do not get to call me that. Once I am done here, I am through with you. I poured my heart out to you and what did you do? Walked out the door and didn't even bother to look back."

I went back to work on him, looking over each bruise and cut. Made sure that nothing was broken. "I left because you are too good for me YN."

I snorted at that and kept working.

"It's true, at least to me YN. When you told me how you felt, I could just see myself screwing up your life. You deserve someone better than me."

"I should be the one to decide that, not you. Can't you see it has been you since we got to know each other Tommy?" I sighed. I could feel myself getting tired.

"I can do all I can do. Keep the cuts clean and change the bandages. Only light work for a few days."

"You would have made a great Doctor YN." I gave Tommy a forced smile. I was just in my second year of schooling when the Outbreak happened. I help out now in the QZ when I can for the smaller ailments.

I was about to get up when I felt Tommy place his hand on my arm. "You know I love you too YN. Being away from you these last few days has been horrible, but I can't stand to lose you as a friend."

"You won't Tommy. I am not going anywhere."

That night we had our first kiss as a couple with his older brother coming out to make fun of him. A playful side of Joel that doesn't come out that often.

But as the years went on, Tommy couldn't stand living in the QZ anymore and that was the cause of our big fights.

And one day he was just gone. He left in the middle of the night, knowing I would make him stay. It was after a massive fight he had with Joel I came to find out later.

My heartbroken once more. Not knowing if he was okay or not. Two days later I found a note he wrote for me.

He told me that he loved me and that he will be back for me. To take me away from this hell hole that we have come to call home.

That was five years ago and he hasn't returned. Joel was the one who communicated with him. I was so angry with Tommy and he knew it.

When it was my turn to send out a message, Tommy never responded. I tried a few times but Tommy decided to cut me out his life and I had to learn to accept that as I had more important things to worry about, or should I say two little someone's.

I found out a few weeks after Tommy left that I was pregnant. When it came time to deliver, I was stunned when two boys came.

Theo and Tate Miller, I named them.

And that has brought me here to this very moment, Joel was beyond pissed when the three of us joined him, Tess and Ellie, on this adventure as I called it for the boys.

"I am not leaving them behind. Who knows what FEDRA would do to them," I could see that Joel was fighting an inner battle with himself, but he knew we would just follow behind him.

And he also knew I was right. If I stayed behind, he knows that I would be detained, along with my sons. I would have been tortured or the boys of been tortured as well.

"Fine, but the children stay in the middle. No wondering off, got it?" He said sternly to his nephews.

"Yes, Uncle Joel."

Ellie stood between them and held their hands and asked them questions as we walked toward the ruins of the old city.

Things were going smoothly until all hell broke loose. First I saw Ellie's arm and her head almost got blown off.

"I am not infected. I am immune. I have been like this for like three weeks." I had the boys behind me as I looked at Joel to see what the fuck he wanted to do.

So we waited it out and Ellie was right. She showed no signs of being infected and I was stunned.

And the next thing I knew, we were running for our lives and trying to stay quiet as the Clickers can't see shit.

Then Tess became infected and stayed behind to sacrifice herself.

The five of us that were left, ran out of the building. Theo slipped from my grasp on the way out, but Ellie was able to grab him and pull him up.

We watched as the building went up in flames, my heart breaking at the thought of losing Tess, but we had to move on. We couldn't stay here any longer than we needed to.

We walked to Bill and Frank's place. I was excited to meet them as I heard so much about the from Tess. When I asked Joel about them, all he told me was, "they can be trusted," and that was good enough for me. If Joel didn't trust someone, then there is a good reason.

But as we soon learned, they died together, on their terms. So we grabbed supplies and got in Bill's truck and headed on our way.

I sat up front with Joel and the kids sat in the back. "What are you gonna do when you see him?" I asked Joel.

"Probably punch him." I couldn't tell by the look on his face if he was joking or not, but knowing Joel it can go one of three ways.

Punch to the face.

A hug.

Or a punch to the face and then a hug right after, blood pouring out of Tommy's nose.

"You?"

"Same." I might just punch him.

"Good. After what he put you through, you can have the first punch."

"Thank you, Joel."

Joel was furious that Tommy left and he became almost enraged when I told Joel I was pregnant. At first, Joel stayed away, not knowing how to take the news, but one day I came home and there was a crib next to my bed.

I found Joel, standing next to it looking kind of sheepish. I was at a loss for words.

"I know the baby can't sleep in your bed all the time so I thought, well," Joel was stuttering trying to show some type of emotion. All I did was hug him and say thank you and he patted my back awkwardly.

We got to the blockade and had to go around it. Ellie is sitting up front now and I am in the back with Theo and Tate, letting them sleep against me.

They woke up to the sound of their Uncle getting frustrated at us for getting lost in an unfamiliar city.

"Where the hell is everyone?" I asked.

"My thoughts exactly YN." Joel and I were on high alert, trying to see if there was anyone. Someone came stumbling out of nowhere, calling for help.

Joel didn't waste a second as he backed up and got away from the obvious trap.

"Put your heads down," I told Ellie and the boys. Ellie went to question me but the boys quickly ducked their heads.

But then people were shooting at us and we had to get to safety. We ended up in some garage, Joel and I shooting at the small ambush.

We didn't hear the man walk through the back way. I felt something hit the back of my head and I went down, instantly blacking out for a few moments.

I woke up to Ellie standing behind Joel and the attacker, and Ellie shooting to protect Joel.

The man was begging for his life, but Joel quickly put an end to his pleas.

"You good YN?"

"Yeah, just a headache." I could see Theo and Tate peeking out of the wall.

"Good, we have to find somewhere to hide." We grabbed what we could from the truck and headed to unfamiliar territory.

The tears were streaming down my face as I helped Joel and Ellie bury Sam and Henry. Poor Sam became infected and his own brother shot him.

We tried to get the gun away from Henry, but he turned it on himself before we could stop him.

Joel and I moved the bodies outside and picked the spot where we could bury them. Ellie insisted on helping us and I let her, even though Joel said no.

The boys weren't too far from us as they know not to go far. They have been quiet since they witnessed their friend get shot.

But this is just how this world is now. We either kill when we have to or become the Infected.

"Which way is West?" Ellie asked. Joel looked around and pointed in the direction. Ellie took her backpack and started to walk that way.

I dropped the shovel and grabbed my bag, whistling to get my son's attention. They quickly joined by side, gripping my hands as tight as they could.

Joel wasn't far behind us and Theo let go of my hand and waited for his Uncle to catch up. I turned to watch the two of them, smiling to myself as I watched Joel take Theo's outstretched hand in his and slow down his stride just a bit so his nephew could catch up.

Tommy told me about Sarah and that first night of the Outbreak. How Sarah died in her Dad's arms. That explains how Joel was and still is. That can mess someone up.

But when I see him with Theo and Tate, I can catch glimpses of what I assume is the previous Joel. These two have a hold over him and he will never admit it, but I can see it.

The seasons changed and it is now late Autumn, early Winter I am assuming. We have finally made it to Wyoming.

We found some good people who took us and even gave us horses to ride on. Ellie had her own, and Joel and Tate were on one, as were Theo and I.

We rode for a few days, stopping when we could to give the horses and ourselves a break and then we made it to a small community.

I made sure that I had one arm wrapped securely around my son as the people were giving us funny looks.

We got off the horses and I saw Joel go running. I heard him call out a name and I looked up and it felt like everything froze.

Tommy.

The two of them embraced and I knew they were questioning each other, and then Tommy's made eye contact with me over Joel's shoulder.

"I guess that is Tommy," Ellie said as she stood next to me.

"Yeah, it is." I had so many emotions running through me, I had no idea how to react. The two of them are now heading this way and a woman had now joined them.

"YN." Tommy barely had my name out his mouth and I was hugging him, telling him how much I have missed him.

He pulled back and gave me a tight-lipped smile and looked down at his sons. "These are Theo and Tate. They are very excited to meet you."

"And I am Ellie." Who stuck her hand out for Tommy and the mysterious woman to shake.

"YN, I believe you and I should talk."

"Oh, this is the YN, how nice to meet you. I am Maria."

"Hello, Maria, nice to meet you," I said to her before Tommy escorted me away from the small group. I knew the kids would be safe with Joel and Ellie.

"YN," He ran his hand across the back of his neck.

"Tommy what is it you can tell me." I took a step closer to him and he took a step back.

"I don't know how to say this, but Maria is my wife."

It was my turn to take a step back. I looked him up and down and the next thing I knew, my fist almost connected with his nose, but he caught it.

"You are a piece of shit Tommy Miller. You have had five fucking years to tell me you found someone else. I came out here to find you with our sons."

"You could have stayed home."

"And how the hell was I supposed to know you were married? You didn't tell any of us."

I turned around and stomped away from him, but he was trying to get me to talk to him.

"YN you have to understand." I spun around and pushed him away from me.

"Understand what? You got lonely? That you needed someone to keep you company? You know what the hell I was doing? Oh, no because you ignored me. I was raising your boys, telling them how great their Dad is and how he can't wait to meet them."

"And I want to get to know them."

"Nope, not happening. As soon as Joel and I can head back to the QZ, we are leaving."

"YN, come on."

"Fuck you Miller. Have a nice life."

PART 2

[evanesdust]

perfect slice of life

🎄🎅 merry christmas, @sterekbros 💗

written for- @sterekfests prompt: "Merry Christmas, Happy Holidays." @sterekbingo square: smiling at each other from across the room

Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Original Child Character(s), Stiles Stilinski Additional Tags: POV Derek Hale, Canon Compliant, Future Fic, Established Relationship, Married Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slice of Life, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Stiles Stilinski is a Nice Thing, Parenthood, Family, Fluff

Summary:

…the one where Derek savored one of the spontaneous, joyful moments that now defined his life.

"Rawr!" Derek yelled, jumping out from behind the bed. Livvie squealed with laughter, racing out of the room and down the hall. The lopsided pigtails he'd given her after lunch bounced with each step. He loved how her tiny feet pattered against the floor, a staccato rhythm that filled the house with life. It was something he'd never dreamed he could have—not with the shit show of his life.

Now, he had a family again. A husband and daughter who had completely reshaped his world. Each peal of Livvie's laughter was like a song to his ears. He chased after her as she headed toward the living room, a grin plastered on his face. Monster chase was one of her favorite games, and witnessing her unadulterated happiness infected him with the same unbridled joy.

Derek chased after her, making exaggerated monster noises, and Livvie shrieked, her laughter echoing off the walls as they darted around the corner.

"Careful of the Christmas tr—"

He stopped dead in his tracks, choking back a snort at the sight that greeted them.

Stiles stood in the entryway, arms crossed and an amused yet (feigned) stern expression on his face.

"And just what is going on here? I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to be running in the house," Stiles said, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed his attempt at seriousness.

"We're not running," Derek said with mock innocence. "We're...speed walking. Yeah, that's it. Speed walking."

Livvie clapped her hands over her mouth, trying not to laugh at his blatant lie.

Stiles raised a brow, clearly not convinced. But Derek noted the way his lips twitched and knew he was struggling to maintain his composure. "Uh-huh, and I'm the Queen of England."

"We were just playing, Daddy," Livvie said, her voice muffled by her hands. Derek nodded in agreement, trying to look repentant, but failed as Stiles shook his head, unable to keep the act up any longer. A warm, affectionate smile spread across his face as he opened his arms and took a knee.

Livvie ran over, launching herself into his embrace. She hugged him tightly, laughter finally breaking free from her lips. Stiles ruffled her hair and kissed the top of her head before he stood, lifting her up into the air. Derek watched on, a broad grin etched across his face. The room was filled with their love, so palpable it seemed to breathe life into the very walls, and at that moment, everything was perfect.

"I see daddy did your hair," Stiles said with a chuckle as he pretended to examine her uneven pigtails. He glanced at Derek, and they smiled at each other from across the room.

Of course, Stiles would point out the slightly uneven pigtails. They were a telltale sign of Derek's handiwork, but Derek found them kind of endearing in their imperfection. He worked hard on them, watching a few YouTube videos. Plus, it was a small reminder of the precious moments he cherished, these simple things that people often took for granted.

Livvie giggled, proudly nodding her head, making her pigtails swing even more. "Yeah! He gave me piggy tails!"

It was crazy how fast she'd grown up. Gone was their tiny infant, replaced by a vibrant little girl with an infectious laugh and boundless energy, just like her father. A whirlwind of joy, constantly learning, growing, and surprising them every day. Derek remembered the days when she could barely crawl. When she was a slobbery baby who'd thought pocket change was an acceptable snack.

(It happened once, and Derek had immediately fished the quarter out of her mouth.)

Derek chuckled as he walked over, joining in on the family hug. He glanced at Stiles with a look of pure gratitude, reflecting on the simple joys of their domestic life. Together, they had built a safe haven of laughter and love, a contrast to the chaos of the outside world. Not that much happened in Beacon Hills anymore—something he was eternally grateful for.

"How was work?" he asked, nuzzling against Stiles's cheek, taking in the familiar scent that always seemed to calm his nerves. From the moment he'd scented Stiles that day all those years ago, trespassing on Hale territory, he knew that he'd found something special. A constant in a world that was always shifting beneath his feet.

Stiles sighed, setting Livvie down gently before answering. His job as an FBI agent was demanding, and Derek always felt a surge of relief when Stiles walked through the door safe and sound.

"It was the usual madness, but thinking of coming home to you guys always gets me through it." Stiles smiled as he glanced at Livvie, who was now attempting to balance on one foot, her concentration etched comically on her face. He wrapped an arm around Derek's waist, giving him a gentle squeeze. "Especially when I get to come back to monster chases and piggy tails."

Livvie squealed, losing her balance and falling over with a dramatic flop onto a nearby cushion that had been tossed haphazardly on the floor after building forts earlier. Yes, the living room was a bit of a mess, but Derek would clean it up later. He'd much rather spend these precious moments with his family than worry about a few things out of place.

"Can we play monster chase again?" Livvie asked, looking up at her fathers, her wide eyes sparkling with mischief.

Derek and Stiles exchanged a glance, an unspoken agreement passing between them. It was impossible to resist her playful plea—something she had mastered, much to their simultaneous joy and chagrin.

"Only if we take it outside this time," Stiles said, letting go of Derek and walking toward the kitchen, where he tossed his keys and wallet onto the counter. He picked up the mail, flipping through it mostly out of habit. "I think the backyard is far more suited for wild beasts and their crazy adventures. Especially since it's unseasonably warm right now. Seriously, it's Christmas, what the hell."

With Stiles suitably distracted, Derek was able to sneak up behind him and scoop him up, spinning him around as Livvie clapped and cheered. Stiles laughed, the sort of carefree and infectious sound that made Derek's heart swell every time. That made him feel like the luckiest man in the world to have this, to have them.

"To the backyard!" Livvie shouted, already halfway to the backdoor in her excitement. She didn't wait for them, her small legs carrying her as fast as they could go.

Stiles looked at Derek with mock exasperation. "You can put me down now."

"As you wish, but—" Derek replied, gently placing Stiles back on the ground with a soft chuckle. He gave Stiles a slow smile, leaning in for a quick but sweet kiss. "You have five seconds before the big bad wolf comes after you, too."

"No. No, Derek," Stiles said, pointing a finger at him. His eyes were narrowed in a mock glare despite the playful challenge in his eyes. "Don't even think about it."

And then he was dashing out of the kitchen, too, his laughter echoing through the house.

Derek counted down loudly, "Five, four, three, two, one..." before taking off after him.

Livvie's laughter rose above everything, a beacon guiding him toward love, family, and the pure, unfettered joy of being together—something he would always cherish. It filled him with a sense of completeness. Moments like this were what Derek would treasure forever. They were fun and utterly spontaneous and reminded him what life was all about. That he wasn't just living day to day anymore; he had a family and was creating memories that would last a lifetime.

The sun cast long shadows across the lawn as Stiles chased Livvie around, pretending to be a tickle monster, while Derek watched, content in knowing that this—

This was a perfect slice of life.

[jtl-fics]

Fusion Dance:

FF in the zombie apocalypse

Fluent Freshman AU | Unusual Fic Asks

I need you to understand what this has done to me. 1. I didn't think anyone was going to ask about FF for some reason and 2. The concept of FF in the apocalypse is so funny to me because I write a lot of him based off of me and I have ALWAYS told anyone who asks that if an apocalypse happens I am not the plucky young lass doing whatever it takes to survive type. (Like I get word that One Piece is cancelled because Oda got eaten it's like 'ok I gotta go ask that man some QUESTIONS in the after life' and I'm OUT. I just don't have that drive in me!)

BUT FF is that kind of guy.

---

FF had been ready for the end of the world for ages. He'd felt the world quake and tear itself apart plenty of times. The first time had been after the car accident. The second time had been when he realized his mother wasn't going to stand up for him. The third was when she said "I do" to a man who hadn't made it a secret what he thought about FF.

The end of the world kept happening for him, so it was almost bizarre when finally everyone else agreed that it had happened.

He didn't really pay attention to the news, only to the increasing anxiety around campus as more and more infections occurred and there were talks about locking down the campus. His anxiety ramped higher and higher until he found himself in a state that he hated. A state where it was all so much that he lost the ability to feel anything at all.

The numbers kept climbing, the infections growing closer, and FF couldn't calm down enough to feel anything.

Then a Palmetto student was bitten and weirder it was someone he had known if only because they played on the same team.

He dodged out of the way of Jack's open mouth as he heard Sheena scream. His senses for an unexpected back attack had been heightened from years of dealing with his step brothers and further from the mindless bloodlust of Black Friday shoppers.

Jack lunged for him again.

"No cure - 100% fatal at biting stage" flashed on the TV in the lounge yesterday. "Self-Defense Recommended" the news anchor said numerous times.

He couldn't bring himself to do it though.

Aaron walked into the hallway and Jack's attention turned. He lunged mouth open and-

FF found the courage to swing down his Racquet.

Sheena just kept screaming as she ran out of the hallway.

Aaron looked shocked looking between FF and Jack on the ground.

"The infection has hit Palmetto." FF says with a deep breath trying not to feel sick, "I'm not staying on campus." he says wondering how many more students had broken quarantine like Jack.

"Where are you planning to go?" Aaron asks giving Jack's body a wide berth as he stepped around it.

"My grandma lives in Washington State. It's pretty rural. I'll go there." He says because she's stood by him through every other end of the world. If this is the one that takes then he wants to be sitting next to her.

"Sounds better than sitting here." Aaron says with a shrug and FF could see that he was shaking from what he'd just seen.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." FF says because he knows what Aaron had done to protect his brother. Aaron looks at him with wide eyes, "He was past the point where he might have been saved. We can't hesitate." he says because that's what the news anchor had said.

Aaron takes a long and shaking breath and nods.

FF nods back to him before turning and heading in the opposite direction of the exit that Sheena had run towards. He heard Aaron's footsteps following him, well this is embarrassing that they're going the same way.

"Where are you going now?" Aaron asks.

"CVS." FF answers.

"Smart, medical supplies." Aaron agrees.

Oh, that is also a good plan. FF was just planning on taking a shopping basket and knocking every last bottle of Pepto Bismol into it. "Yes." he says.

"I'll text Andrew." Aaron says and for the love of god FF did not know what he would be texting him. "Hey, thanks...for uh...saving me." he says.

They haven't decided how to charge people quite yet for the Infection self-defense cases.

"Don't mention it." he says and honestly wishes he could tell Sheena the same.

[eddie-van-munson]

Lightning Bolts (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: (Hurt/Comfort) You haven't touched Eddie since he came home from the hospital. He assumes it's because you're disgusted by the way he looks, covered in scars from the Upside Down, but that couldn't be further from the truth. In reality, you're just afraid of losing him again.

Warnings: Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Triggers, Eddie has Scars from the Demobat Attack and Dislikes Them, Anxiety/PTSD, Talk of Death, Series Typical Violence, Spoilers, Cursing.

Requested by: @mazzeeeliz (a fic inspired by the song "A Love Like Ours" by Aron Wright). I found most of my inspiration from the line, "This isn't the end, It's only a season. A love like ours will never die." This fic is kind of all over the place though jdbfnd I'm so sorry.

(Medical Triggers: Eddie is in the Hospital after the Demobat attack. Non-Descript Mentions of Wounds, Injections, Blood etc.)

***********

"Why's it-? Hurts... hurts. It's...Fuck..."

Eddie's head wasn't there yet when his eyes finally opened. He couldn't get many words out, just a mumbled assortment of curses, whimpers, and slurred questions. His dark brows were furrowed with confusion as he weakly tried to pull the IV from his arm and tug his bandages off. He struggled against Steve pitifully when he reached out to stop him, his mind still disoriented and half asleep, but he was too frail to fight it. Your throat tightened at the sight of fear clouding in his eyes. You didn't like it. Not at all.

You'd been so desperate to see those pretty brown eyes open again. You'd wanted to hear his voice.

But now they were open, and when you searched for any sort of coherence or recognition in them, there was nothing.

He was speaking, but no words were there. Only croaked sobs and hoarse indications of pain.

Eddie wasn't awake yet. Not really. You almost wished he was asleep again, if only so he wouldn't hurt. He wouldn't be afraid.

You took his hand in yours as you stood beside him, Steve holding his other one to keep him from hurting himself. You hushed him softly as tears filled his big dark eyes, reaching up to feel his head. He was still warm from infection, but he was better. "It's ok, baby. You're safe. Just relax." You hummed as his breathing slowed. "There we go...that's it."

You dragged your fingertip over his face soothingly, tracing around his forehead and down across his nose. He calmed, staring up at you as you traced his cupid's bow and around his jaw.

"I know you're afraid, sweetheart. You don't know where you are, do you? Or why you're hurting..." You cooed to him gently. "You probably don't even know who we are, yet. But we're going to make it feel better, ok? Just gotta relax, for me."

He eased as you stroked his hair, running your fingers through his tangled curls. Some of the fear faded from his expression, leaving fogginess in his drug blown pupils. You brushed a tear from his cheek.

"Are you hurting bad?" You kept your voice steady and calm, holding his gaze. He gave a  dizzy nod. "Ok, angel. We'll find you some more medicine."

You hadn't been able to take him to the hospital. There'd been a hundred reasons why, the least of which being that he immediately would have been arrested for three counts of murder. He'd be sent to prison as soon as he healed. That is, if he healed. Small town doctors and nurses weren't exactly trained on procedures related to inter-dimensional bat maulings.

Instead, you took him to the lab, praying the whole way that there was something they could do. That you'd make it in time.

He'd been unconscious for days, his torn body pumped with drugs to keep him asleep and stable. They'd given him an emergency blood transfusion, and it was the longest 12 hours of your life. You paced the hallway, waiting. Waiting to see if his body would accept the transfusion. Waiting to see if they could knit him back together. Waiting to see if he'd live through the night.

You sobbed in relief when they said he was stable enough for you to see him. They'd decided put him under, which was dangerous in the state he was in, but it had to be done. It would have been cruel to risk him waking up like this, and he needed to be kept still and at rest to aid him in healing.

It'd been a few days, now, and Owens was starting to transition him off of the general anesthetic. He'd warned you it would take him a while to get his head back, if it came back at all. There was a possibility it wouldn't after that kind of physical trauma. You didn't let yourself even consider that possibility.

He was under sedation still, but it was more to keep his muscles relaxed and ease him awake. Even though he was conscious, he wouldn't remember. He was stuck in between sleep and awake. Owens called it "twilight".

You could see him thinking, his tired eyes searching your face and the room as if it were a puzzle to solve. He stared at you, brow furrowed like it was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite make the connection. You held his hand for a long time, soothing him as tears rolled down his flushed cheeks.

"Y/N." It was practically a whisper. His voice was hoarse, but it was there.

The relief that spread over you was like a warm, sweet tidal wave. "That's right, baby. You starting to come back to us?"

Steve stood when he heard him speak, only to return a moment later with a glass of water. Eddie stared up at him as you gave a soft 'thanks', studying his friend in quiet confusion. Steve smiled, giving him a little wave. "Hey, man."

Eddie's paused, his expression relaxing, and swallowed thickly. You could have cried when he spoke, again. His voice was so small and pitiful, "Hey."

He sounded like a scared little boy.

His sweet, sleepy brown eyes found yours again, and you frowned, grazing your thumb along his chapped lips protectively. "You want some water, baby?"

He took a moment to process, but gave a slow nod, his hand coming up to reach for the glass.  You held it for him, helping him take slow sips.

"Y/N..." He murmured, squirming weakly in his sheets. "Hurts."

"I know, sweet boy. It'll feel better soon, I promise." You glanced to Steve and he nodded, leaving to get the nurses. Eddie whined softly and glanced around, as if he was trying to find what was causing the pain.

For the first time, he saw himself. Really saw himself. He was covered in bandages, countless lines of stitches scattering over the few parts of him he could see. The bites. You watched his eyes as he realized the state he was in, a few pieces of the puzzle clicking into place. Immediately his breathing started to quicken with panic. A sob escaped his throat, his hand trembling where you held it, and he gave you a panicked look.

"I've got you, Eds. It's ok..."

His lower lip quivered when he exhaled, tears welling over and rolling down his cheeks. He scrunched his face uncomfortably, voice cracking. "Hurts...it hurts."

 "Hey..." You fought your own tears as you cradled his chin, making him look up at you. His pulse sped as you guided him in slow breaths. "They're coming to fix it, baby. I've got you."

"Make me go to sleep. Please. Please make me sleep." His voice was rough. He squeezed your hand, giving another little sob. "I don't want to look at it."

Your lip quivered as you held his face in your hands, trying to keep him from upsetting himself further. His beautiful brown eyes were so full of pain it made you feel ill. You choked pitifully, "I love you so much, Eds. I'm sorry. I'm...I'm so sorry." 

The door opened. Steve and the nurse.

"What's wrong?" Steve took one of Eddie's hands, trying to relax him. You couldn't answer. Vaguely, you could hear the nurse talking to Steve. He's panicking. You brushed the tears from his cheeks as you watched the nurse prepare a sedative from the corner of your eye. It's better to put him back to sleep. His heart rate is getting too high. Steve flashed you a concerned look as he reached out to take hold of Eddie's bicep. Can you keep him still for me? Eddie clung to Steve's forearm where he held him, inhaling sharply at the injection. He tensed in your arms, and you hushed him sweetly as he went still.

"We've got you, Eds." Steve's brow furrowed as he watched his body sink slowly. "That's it."

You cradled him against you as you watched his eyes finally go empty, his head lulling back. Slowly, you let him go, allowing his body to fully relax into the mattress before immediately breaking into sobs. Steve rushed to you, pulling you into a tight hug, but the words still echoed in your head.

It hurts. Make me go to sleep. I don't want to look at it.

***********

Months Later

Eddie was desperate to be touched. He ached for it.

He'd healed. His stitches had come out, leaving hundreds of scars. The bites were hardly visible to anyone but himself now, but the larger wounds on his ribs and chest were dark and un-ignorable. And they always would be.

Eddie hated them. He hated every last one of them. He hated the memories they gave him of blinding pain and the feeling of blood soaking his clothes. But more than that, he hated how they looked.

He knew it sounded stupid. Vain, even. But he'd never been very happy with his appearance in the first place. He'd learned to live with his looks Sophomore year, when he'd grown his hair out, but he'd never liked his face or his body. He was always too lanky. Too pasty. Too thin in some places and too soft in others. Too many acne scars and stretch marks.

But now? He'd kill to look the way he used to. It made him sick to think he'd ever complained about it in the first place, because you hadn't touched him since he left that lab.

The government had pulled some strings, airing news stories all over Hawkins.

Man Found with Murder Weapon: A Breakthrough for The Cunningham Case

Finally Behind Bars! Hawkins Breathes a Sigh of Relief!

Justice is Served in Local Murder Cases

They gave a name and a picture, some guy no one had ever seen before, and that was that. The town was appeased and no one really went to jail. No more Munson Murders.

Still, Eddie stayed inside with you at the apartment you shared, too sickened by the idea of stares. It was a new feeling for him. He'd always welcomed the stares. He couldn't, anymore.

He'd been out once. He went to the grocery store down the street for cigarettes and milk. A little girl stared at him in the grocery isle, and he didn't think much of it at first. Kids stared at him a lot. They thought his clothes were funny. He smiled at her, giving her a little wave. Without warning, her eyes went wide, terror filling them when she realized he was looking at her. Tears welled in her big baby blues as she broke into cries at the sight of him, hiding her face in her mother's leg. Her mother looked over, picking her daughter up and soothing her as she mouthed an apology.

He hadn't left the house since. Every time he thought he could, he imagined those big blue eyes filling with tears.

You took care of him, though. You were patient. You listened. You let him cry. A lot. But you didn't touch him.

You'd only hold him in your sleep, rolling over and wrapping your arms around him tightly as you murmured nonsense. It was heaven, every time. He waited so patiently for you to fall asleep each night so he could pull you into his arms and feel your skin, warm against his.

The only time you still wanted him was when your eyes were closed. He tried not to let that hurt his feelings. He didn't blame you.

Today marked another month. Eddie didn't want the alarm to go off. He wanted you to stay in his arms, snuggled in against the crook of his neck where you still loved him. Where you still wanted him.

He kissed your forehead, traveling down to your nose, and you curled in closer. He smiled, gathering your locks up off your nape as he laid you down against the mattress. You barely stirred. Slowly, as not to scare you, he nuzzled his face in your neck, letting his hand lace through your hair and cradle your head. His lips were warm and soft as he peppered them over the sensitive skin of your throat. You moaned softly, head tilting back. A hot breath fanned your skin as he breathed a relieved sob, letting his kisses deepen. You hummed his name breathlessly, your fingers lacing in his curls.

He gave a gorgeous sound as you searched for friction against him, needily. He groaned, pushing your baby hairs back off of your forehead as your sleepy eyes fluttered open. Lazily, you slid your palm up his chest and over his throat, gazing your thumb over his cheek as you pulled him down into a kiss. He felt like he was going to pass out, he was in such bliss. You were warm and gentle with him, and you'd just found his soft spot right below his ear when your kisses slowed to a stop. A scar. It was tiny, just two faint spots from the fangs of a bat, but it was there. Your stomach went cold.

 It hurts. Make me go to sleep. I don't want to look at it.

Suddenly, your skin felt icy. You were looking into his pained eyes, watching him beg you to be put under. You were putting pressure against his shoulder, praying and sobbing as he choked on his own blood. You were outside the trailer, watching him be shredded by a million bats. Hearing him scream.

You tensed, and Eddie immediately stopped, pulling back. He looked you over, concern furrowing his brow, "What's wrong? What happened? Are you hurt?"

"No...no I'm..." You pulled your shirt on, and the mattress dipped as you stood, headed towards the closet. "I'm late for work."

He frowned, glancing towards the alarm clock. It hadn't even gone off yet. "Babe, you've still got an hour before you've got to leave."

You blanched, fumbling for an answer as you hit a button the alarm clock, cancelling it. "I know I just...um...I wanted to get there early. There's some stuff that needs done.

He wanted to cry. "Y/N..."

You turned to him, your heart aching when you saw the look on his face.

"I need you talk to me." His shoulders were slumped, his arms wrapped around himself where he sat in bed. "I feel like you've got a million things going on in your head lately and I don't have any idea what a single one of them is."

He looked so small. So insecure and hurt. You sat in front of him, taking his hand in your own as you tucked one of his curls behind his ear.

"I just..." You took a shaky breath. "I don't think we should do anything too physical yet, Eds. You're still healing."

"I need you to touch me." He croaked, tears stinging his nose. "I need it. And if you don't want to touch me, I understand that. I know you didn't sign up to be with Freddie Kruger, but I need you to tell me that if that's the case. I can't keep holding out hope that you'll want me again."

You shook your head, your stomach knotting sickly as your jaw dropped, "Eddie no...God no, Eddie. That's not it. That's not it at all. I-...I don't want to hurt you, baby."

"I'm healed. I've...I've been stitched up. Everything is closed and strong, again. Owens said." He sniffled, rubbing at his tear stained cheeks. "I...I need you. If you still want me, then I need you. I need you to hug me after work again. I need you to kiss me goodnight and make love to me. I need you to hold me on the couch when we watch movies. I need things to be normal because I don't...I don't feel human anymore."

"Eddie..." Your eyes finally brimmed over as Eddie gave a sob. Trembling, you crawled into his lap. His arms wrapped around you so tight it nearly hurt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." You bury your head in his shoulder. "I'm afraid. 'm just afraid. I can't bear to see you in anymore pain, Eds."

You'd been distant. You knew you had been. For months you'd longed to touch him, but the fears in your head deterred you from even trying. Every time you found yourself wanting to let your hands wander, your head clouded with thoughts.

What if he reopens a wound? What if his heart can't handle that yet? What if he's in pain but he's too embarrassed to tell me?

You'd been so terrified to hurt him that you hadn't realized you were doing exactly that. Hurting him. You'd been neglecting him for months, all in the name of keeping him safe.  You'd left him thinking you didn't want him. That his body was too marred to be desirable to you.

"Look at me...Look at me." You held his jaw firmly in your hands as his breathing steadied, his warm, glossy brown eyes watching you.  Your thumb grazed over his cheek, "There's not been a moment where I haven't wanted you."

You said it sternly, leaving no room for negotiation. Eddie shook his head, his forehead creasing with confusion. "I don't understand."

You sighed, guiding him to lay his head against your chest. He gave a shakey breath, taking in your body warmth and the feel of your hands in his hair as he listened to your heartbeat.

"They had to restart your heart." You struggled to say it, an ache churning inside you at the memory of his body jolting under the charged paddles. "They had to pump you full of drugs and keep you asleep...You were so fragile, baby. Never knew if you'd make it through the night..." You held him tighter, comforting yourself. "You could've left me at any moment."

Eddie rubbed your back, sweetly. He clung to you, as if he were trying to protect you from your own memories.

"And when you came to you..." You choked a little, trying to take a deep breath. "Your eyes were so empty at first...and then you were in so much pain. You begged me to make you go to sleep."

Eddie's chest lurched. You'd never told him that, before. He imagined, momentarily, how he'd have felt if it had been you laying in that bed instead of him. He immediately went nauseous.

"I felt like I was torturing you. Keeping you alive with tubes and machines and drugs just because I wanted you to stay. Owens told me the moment he saw you that it might be more humane to let you go...but I couldn't do it, Eddie."

Eddie pulled back to look at you with big sweet eyes.

 "And then you were better and you were home. I didn't want to let myself get used to having you. I felt like the universe was going to play some cruel joke and take you away again. It'd been touch and go for so long. You were so fragile. If something happened...I wouldn't be able to keep going if I lost you again, sweetheart."

You gave a quiet sob as he reached up to brush away your tears.

"I've wanted you so bad for so long, but I'm so scared. I don't want to risk hurting you." You kissed the top of his hair, "I thought if I didn't touch you I couldn't hurt you, but I did. I hurt you so bad, Eddie. Made you feel unwanted. Made you feel like you aren't the most beautiful boy I've ever seen."

"You don't have to say that."

"I'm not saying it because I have to, baby." You rubbed your eyes. "I mean it. I mean it so fucking much."

You were in awe of him as you sat in his lap, his cheeks still pink and his eyelashes stuck together with tears. He pressed a kiss to the pad of your finger as you traced his lips.

Your voice was barely whisper when you spoke again, "Sometimes I wake up before you do, and the sun is just starting to rise...the heat from it turns your nose pink."

He smiled softly, and you can't help but smile too.

"Most of the time you're still dreaming. You talk in your sleep, Eds. Did you know that? You make the sweetest little sounds. The funniest faces."

He watched you as you replayed a memory in your head.

"I could watch you forever like that. Warm and sleepy and happy...God, you're so pretty, angel. You're so pretty. You're perfect. I'll say it a million times a day now, huh? I'm not gonna let you forget it ever again. I've wanted you so bad, sweetheart. You have no idea."

Eddie was breathless, his throat tight. "I'm sorry."

Your brow furrowed, "For what?"

"I should've realized something else was going on." His voice was rocky with emotion. "I love you. I know you. You'd never stop loving me over something like this. I wasn't fair to you. I just..." He bit his lip. "Everything changed between us and when I look in the mirror, I don't like what I see. I just assumed you didn't like it either."

You pulled him close, kissing his forehead and his nose, "Eddie Munson, you could have horns and green skin and I'd still want you. I mean it. You've got me whipped. You could have feathers sprouting out your ass."

His eyes welled as you gave him a sweet kiss. He murmured against your lips, his tightening throat making his words hoarse, "What if it's worse than that?"

You pulled back, crooking your brow, "Worse than feathers sprouting out your ass?"

He laughed softly, wiping tears on the back of his hand as he sniffled. "You haven't had a look at me in a while. I didn't exactly...heal well."

You stroked his hair, looking concerned. "What do you mean by that? Do you still hurt?"

"No. The marks are-"

"The marks? Your scars? Is that what this is about?"

He nodded, swallowing, and gave a humorless laugh. "Like I said. Freddie Kruger."

Your heart sank as he poked fun at himself, trying to cover up his own insecurity. You shook your head, resting against his chest as you toyed with the collar of his shirt. He used to sleep without one, but he'd grown to favor throwing on a Megadeath shirt he'd accidentally gotten a few sizes too big.

"They're such a comfort to me, Eds."

A comfort. What? Eddie's forehead creased as he looked down at you. They usually did the opposite for him.

"How?" His voice was shy, as if he still halfway expected rejection.

"I saw you torn up, Eds. You bled out in my arms. I can't tell you how good it is to see where your body has healed from that."

Oh. Oh. He'd never thought of it like that.

"I have nightmares a lot." You hummed, quietly. "When I wake up scared I can just trace your arms. Look over you." You hold his hand to you, admiring the swirling dips that'd been forever carved into his skin. "I thought some of these would kill you. But you're still here, and all that's left of the hurt is just..." You trailed off, smiling softly as you admired him. "Lightning bolts."

He exhaled, amazed. "Lightning bolts."

"Silver and pink..."  You drew the jagged line  across his forearm, looking up at him. "Can I see the one on your heart?"

You hadn't seen it up close since it had healed. Maybe you'd caught a glimpse or two of it while he changed, but you wanted to touch him. Fear still bubbled in your chest at the idea of your hands on him, but the want in his expression eased it.

He laid back against the pillows, curls mussing as he tugged the large shirt up over his head. Your insides fluttered. You were straddling his hips now, your hands tentatively creeping up over his belly as a warmth settled low in your tummy. "Oh, sweetheart..." 

He was gorgeous. The deep, rosy tear ran right right up to his collarbone, tapering at the ends. The tattoo on his chest had been nearly split in half by it. He stared up at you as you touched him. Admired him. He could see that you liked what you saw. That you wanted it. He could feel it, too.

Heat was starting to pool between your legs where he was pressed against you. It'd been so long. This sweet boy wanted you so bad, and it'd been so long.

"Eddie..." His palms slid up your thighs, giving you a squeeze as they rested there. "Can I tell you something?" You planted your hands on his abdomen.

He nodded, unable to find words. The sensation of your body warmth against his middle was making him feel dizzy and drunk.

"I've missed having you inside me, Eddie." He groaned at your whisper, and your cheeks heated as you sat pressed against his bulge. Your panties were getting damp against his boxers. "Sometimes, I'd lock myself in the bathroom and-"

He bucked weakly against you and you gasped, searching for friction with a few rocks of your hips. His throat went dry. "What did you do, Y/N?"

"Touched myself."

"Jesus baby..."

He thrusted up against you, bouncing you in his lap a little. You gasped at the feeling, biting your lip.

"I did it too." He choked out, trying to catch his breath. "I touched myself, too. Got off when you went to work...Y/N, please. Please touch me. Please."

Your eyes went wide as he begged you.

"We can take it slow, have a safe word just in case, I don't care, but I'm so hard. It hurts..."

It hurts. Make me go to sleep. I don't want to look at it.

You tensed, looking down at your love below you. There he was, beautiful and breathing. And there were his scars. You could feel the roughness of them as you traced your fingertips over his skin. Touching all of the places he'd healed. His pretty brown doe eyes looked up at you pleadingly. You took a deep breath, reeling your mind back in, and sat up on all fours.

Eddie's breath quivered as you nuzzled your face against his cock in his boxers, your hot breath making your name fall from his lips like a prayer. You slipped your fingers into his waistband and pulled them down off of his hips, revealing is painfully red cock. He was visibly throbbing, leaking pre-cum onto his sweet soft tummy with every pulse.

"Fuck Eds. Is this all for me?" Tears rolled down his cheeks as he nodded, whimpering as you kissed up his shaft chastely. "I've been neglecting you, haven't I? Made you hurt so bad. I'm so sorry, angel." 

He reached down for your hand.  You thought he was going to wrap it around his length, but instead he laced your fingers with his, needily. Your heart melted.

"Sweet boy...I'm gonna take such good care of you all day. I'll make you feel so good you forget your own name. Do you think that'll make up for it? Is that a good start?" You sucked one of his swollen balls into your mouth, releasing it with a pop.

His stomach tensed with pleasure, "But-"

"I'll call out of work, Eds. Don't worry about that. I've let my angel forget how pretty he is. I need to remind him. That's all I'm worried about, right now."

He gave a little sob, words breaking, "I love you."

"I love you most, pretty. I love you so much." He squeezed your hand, eyes fluttering shut as his body relaxed. "That's it, sweetheart. Just lay back and let your head go dumb for me. I've got you."

You dipped your free hand between your legs, gathering your slick on your fingers and bringing it back up to his cock. You pumped him a few times, smearing yourself over him before dragging your tongue from his base to his head. Eddie's pretty back arched as his brow furrowed with pleasure. He watched you as you sank your throat down onto him, stroking his base as you bobbed on his length messily.

"Whoa, no no no stop. Holy shit, you've gotta stop."

You froze, pulling off of him so fast as panic settled in your belly. You crawled up him to cradle his face, thumbs stroking his flushed cheeks. "Hey, what's wrong baby? What hurts? Is it too much?"

"No, no 'm ok." He rasped. "I was just..." He trailed off, ears going red.

You smiled softly, "What is it, gorgeous?"

He preened under your praise, his eyes squeezing shut, "I just...I was about to..."

"About to cum?" You brushed his baby hairs back out of his face, fondly.

"Yeah", He gave a pitiful laugh, rubbing his eyes. "Nearly creamed myself. I'm surprised I've made it this long. I feel like a blushing virgin."

You grinned, kissing him as you draped your body over his carefully. "Why'd you stop me? You should've taken what you needed."

"I want to be inside you."

You wiggled your eyebrows at him, "I can wait fifteen minutes, angel."

"I can't." He whined pitifully. "Miss you too bad. I'll let you suck my cock later. I promise."

"Oh you will, huh?" He grinned at that. A real, chesire, Eddie-grin. You giggled in spite of yourself.

"Don't be a brat." He groaned, rubbing his eyes.

"Oh, I'm sorry." You coo, "I forgot that's your job."

He laughed brightly, reaching down to tickle your sides in retaliation. You squirmed, pulling him into a distracting kiss. He hummed against you, pouting. "I'm a brat now? I thought I was your pretty boy?"

You trailed your lips down his throat, his breath growing ragged as you dragged your tongue over the little bat bite. You nipped at his earlobe, sucking it. "Oh sweetheart, of course you are." You punctuated your words with kisses as you worked your way down to suck his collarbone. "My pretty, sweet, perfect little brat."

Sitting up, you straddled his hips again, rocking back and forth for a moment to push your soaked panties down off of your legs. He groaned deep in his chest at the sight of you, and you smiled, taking his hand in yours.

"Close your eyes, for me." He smiled softly, obeying. You inched up his chest, opening his hand and bringing it between your legs.

"Holy shit..." The moan he gave as his fingers slid through you was so pretty you could have cried, "You're so fucking wet." He let himself explore for a moment before you felt the heel of his palm graze your clit, his index and pinkie fingers pressing into the creases of your thighs . His hand pressed flush against your pelvic bone as he slid up into you, his middle finger hooking inwards against a soft spot below your belly.

"Jesus Christ, Eddie." You squeaked, holding his wrist in place as he fucked you with his thick fingers. "Shit, sweetheart. Those bats could've eaten half your fucking brain and you'd still know how to make me cum on these pretty fingers, wouldn't you?"

He laughed, smiling lazily at the praise. Your eyes scrunched, and he could see your stomach starting to tense as he rubbed small, tight circles directly over your g-spot. Your hips bucked into his hand and he bit the tip of his tongue, brows furrowing with focus as you started to clench around him. You pushed down on his wrist, pulling his fingers from inside you.

He whined, frowning as if you'd deprived him of something, "Why'd you do that for?"

You smirked as you caught your breath, watching him bring his fingers into his mouth to suck them clean. "Because..."

You spread your thighs where you straddled him, lowering your cunt enough to slowly glide your heat over the length of his shaft.

His head pulled back with a moan, and you leaned in, kissing his sweet lips. "...I want to cum on this perfect cock."

He pulled you back down into another kiss, a longer one. "I still feel like I'm dreaming." He whispered, his nose burning. "Feel like I'm gonna wake up and you'll be gone, again."

Pain bled through your chest, your eyes going glossy. "That's how I've felt ever since you came to, Eds."

"Well, if this is a dream..." He cradled your face, his nose nuzzled against yours, lovingly. He offered you his pinkie. "Let's just promise each other we won't ever wake up."

A tear brimmed over, and you brushed it away quickly and hooked your little finger with his. "I love you, so much Eddie Munson." He smiled sweetly, his dimples showing. "If you ever die on me again I'm gonna kill you."

The corner of your mouth tugged, "Not if you behave."

He laughed loudly, his head lulling back. He groaned with a smile, squeezing your thighs. "You're half way there, hovering that pretty cunt over my cock like that. So cruel...You gonna make me beg again?"

He exhaled sharply, bucking his hips, desperately as you reached a hand down to stroke him, lining him up at your entrance.

"Y/N L/N..." He murmured gently, his head lulling back.

"What is it, gorgeous?"

"I love you too."

Your stomach fluttered as you sank onto him, and you were unsure if it was because of the words or from the feeling of him splitting you open. Curses fell from his lips as your brow furrowed, a dull ache forming in your tummy. It'd been too long. Much too long.

"Fuck, sweetheart. I'm not gonna last long." He croaked, his eyes rolling back in his head.

"M-Me neither." You whimpered softly, "This is a lot better than your fingers."

He laughed, and you gasped a little, feeling him move inside you. You chased the sensation, rolling your hips on him. He nudged the same tender spot as before with every movement.

"That's it. Ride me, angel...Feels so fucking good." He babbled weakly as you grinded on him, your slick heat smearing over his lower tummy.

You whimpered softly, a tear rolling down your cheek, "Eddie..."

His hands found your hips, knowing you needed more, and lifted you off of him just enough to drop you back down. He thrusted upwards, bouncing you down onto his cock. Your head fell back, your whimpers going choppy with every thrust of his hips.

"That's it, baby. Let me know how good it feels."

You cried out, the lewd sound of wet skin slapping against wet skin filling the room. His hips against your ass. Deep. Deep. Deep. You felt an ache inside you. An itch that needed scratching.

He pulled you down to lay against his chest, and you could feel him throbbing, his hips still thrusting up into you. Your walls tightened around him.

"Ed-d-d-d-ie" Your voice was small and hoarse, your face buried in the crook of his neck. "I'm..."

"That's it, honey. Cum around my cock. Soak me, sweetheart. I've got you."

"I love you, Eds. I love you so much. I'm close I'm cu-- Oh, Oh, Oh..."

Your eyes rolled back in your head as you went limp, every nerve ending in your body frying into warm TV static as you stomach spammed and pulsed around him. You could distantly hear him moaning as he thrusted into you one, two, three more times. He gasped your name hoarsely, clinging to you as you felt his heat fill your belly.

For a long time you laid there, your bodies smeared with a million different kinds of sin. Neither of you would let go of one another. Eddie whimpered softly as occasional aftershocks made your muscles twitch around him.

He could feel a sticky mixture of cum and wetness starting to drip down onto his hip from your cunt. You locked eyes as he pulled out, reaching down between you to dip two of his fingers inside you. You squirmed a little, but went still as you watched him bring his fingers back up to show you. He hummed softly as he spread them, sticky, glistening strings forming between his coated didgets. He made eye contact as he brought them into his mouth, sucking his fingers clean.

You scrunched your nose, "You're nasty."

Eddie burst into loud laughter grinning, as he rubbed your thighs. He gave a fond hum,  "Nah, baby. We taste good together."

You stared up at him. He could tell he'd made you curious. He crooked his finger and you moved closer, letting him pull you into a dirty, messy kiss. You moaned as your tongue grazed his, and you tasted yourself on him. A thin string of saliva and cum stuck between you when you parted, breaking when you licked your lips. He giggled, gathering some from your chin onto his thumb and letting you kiss it from the pad of his finger.

He gave an wicked grin, "Now you're nasty too."

You rolled your eyes, pressing little kisses to a few of the scars on his chest. Eddie's heart melted as you nuzzled against the marks on his chest, resting your head there. You were quiet for a long time, just enjoying touch again.

"I love you so much." You cooed so softly. He could tell just from your voice that you were falling asleep. "I think you're so beautiful." 

He smiled, cradling your face. "I know you do, baby." He tapped his fingertip on your nose. "I'm sorry I forgot."

"I'm sorry I let you forget."

Your forehead creased with guilt but he tutted, rubbing the furrow from your brow with his thumb. "No no no...that's enough of that. I simply cannot allow you to look so sad after I've just fucked your brains out. It would ruin my reputation."

You fought a laugh, but lost out. "You're such an asshole. I was trying to be sweet."

He grinned, humming. "You're always sweet."

"Is that a problem?" You played with his curls, passively.

 "A huge problem, actually. Wish you'd knock me around a little. Put me in my place, you know? Call me your little slut?"

You smirked, "You'd cry like a baby."

He laughed, sighing. "Definitely." He rolled you over, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder to press kisses along your jaw. "Can't help it though. I like being your pretty boy."

"Aw..." You teased, "Sweet little thing. You like being my pillow princess don't you?"

He hums a yes without processing the words, but quickly pulls back to look at you, frowning, "Hey!"

You broke into laughter as he pinched at your sides again, making you giggle and squirm.

You stayed in bed with him all day, only getting up to throw on some clothes frantically and open the door for the pizza delivery guy. You watched scary movies and laughed until you snorted and ate way too much.

And just like that, something in you started to heal. Something that had been painful and jagged.

It would take time to fix it completely. There would still be tears and nightmares, but you knew that soon enough it'd knit itself back together, leaving you with those same pink and silver lightning bolts over your heart that Eddie had.

Proof that both of you had lived through that terrible night. And you'd both healed.

***********

@eddielives1986

[dior-elkie]

Crimson Petals

written by @dior-elkie and @kiremrem

Heiji Hattori and Shinichi Kudo were inseparable best friends. They shared everything—adventures, mysteries, and a passion for solving crimes that brought them closer each day. But little did Heiji know that his heart harboured feelings for Shinichi that he couldn't bear to confront.

Despite their strong bond, Heiji sensed something unspoken between Shinichi and the phantom thief, Kaito Kid. Their interactions were filled with hidden glances and unspoken words that only he seemed to notice. As days passed, his unrequited love for Shinichi deepened, becoming a weight he found difficult to bear.

He tried to distance himself, thinking it would ease the pain in his heart. But the more he pulled himself apart, the stronger his feelings tugged at him. No matter how hard he tried to ignore it, his emotions just wouldn't cooperate. He hoped some distance might lessen the intensity, yet it only seemed to light the fire within him but he couldn't shake off those growing feelings, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

One afternoon, while he was solving a murder case in his home, he took a quick break from thinking. He couldn't quite understand this case.

"If only Kudo was here," Hattori said to, particularly, no one. 

Just as he took a deep breath, a sudden fit of coughing seized him. He doubled over, a handkerchief pressed against his lips as he coughed up small, crimson petals. Panic surged through him, a mixture of confusion and fear gripping his heart.

Gasping for air, Heiji staggered backward, his mind racing to comprehend what was happening. The pain in his chest intensified with each cough, the sensation was like sharp thorns digging into his lungs.

“What.. What is this?..” He managed to say.

He struggled to reach his computer, then opened it to search for information on whatever this was.

He finally found it and when he read through it, he couldn’t believe his eyes.

“Is this for real?..” 

The search results showed that what was happening to him is called the ‘Hanahaki Disease’. This is a disease in which the victim coughs up flower petals when they suffer from one-sided attraction. It ends when the beloved returns their feelings (romantic love only), or when the victim dies. It can be cured through surgical removal, but when the infection is removed, the victim's romantic feelings and their memories of that specific person / people also disappear.

“Then is there a meaning to those flowers too?” He seriously asked himself. He gathered all the petals and deduced that there were only four types of flowers.

“I have to figure out the names of these flowers first..” He stood up and changed his clothes. He hurriedly went to a flower shop.

“Hello, welcome to Hanafuku ! How may I help you?” The florist approached Heiji who was panting.

Hanafuku is an actual flower shop in Osaka

When he stopped panting, he opened his left hand to show the lady the petals.

“I want to know what flowers these are.” 

The lady was surprised at this request but immediately regained her composure. “Follow me please.” She led him to the cashier and asked him to put the petals on her hand and so he did.

“Please wait one moment. If you want, you can sit over there.” The lady politely points at the couch near the shop’s entrance.

“Alright. Thank you, ma’am.” He bowed to the florist, then walked over to the couch and sat down.

A few minutes later he was called. He immediately walked up to the cashier.

"Sir, these flowers—Aster, Chrysanthemum, Daisy, and Camellia—are their names," she said, pointing to each one as she mentioned it. “Do you want me to tell you what each of them means?”

“Yes, please.”

“Aster represents love and daintiness, while Pink Camellia expresses a longing for someone. Daisy symbolizes innocence and loyal love, often paired with a sense of secrecy or it’s like saying *I’ll never tell*. Red Chrysanthemum conveys a direct message of I love you. Despite their unique meanings, all these flowers signify emotions associated with love, affection, and sometimes longing or desire.”

The man listened intently, absorbing the significance behind each flower. As the florist finished her explanation, he nodded, appreciating the depth of meaning woven into the blooms he had coughed up.

“Thank you for sharing that.” He said with a gentle smile, “Those meanings are truly beautiful.” He reached into his pocket and handed her some money.

“Don’t worry, sir. I won’t be needing that.” The lady said as she refused to receive the money from Heiji.

“Why? You should take this because you took your time in figuring out what kind of flowers they are and what their meaning is. I should definitely pay you with something.”

“Since you insist so much, good sir. How about this? If you can survive that disease, come back here. This is how you can pay me.”

Heiji was surprised by what she said. “Wait, how did you know I have a disease?”

“Anyone who enters while clutching petals is usually suffering from the so-called Hanahaki Disease. I’ve grown quite accustomed to this scenario. So to pay me, you just have to come here after you get cured of this disease.”

"Alright, thank you," he said, bowing as he headed to the door. Before he could leave, he heard the lady say, "Please, come back again."

As weeks passed, Heiji's condition deteriorated, marked by frequent coughing fits, letting out petals with blood. Despite the pain, he hid his suffering, pushing harder in investigations with Shinichi and sometimes Hakuba, masking the turmoil within. His forced smiles and strained laughter concealed the unspoken anguish.

Shinichi remained oblivious to Heiji's declining health, engrossed in cases. Heiji concealed his coughing fits, seeking solitude when the pain became unbearable. Tears mixed with the petals stained his hands, his unconfessed love causing unbearable agony.

In silence, Heiji endured, unwilling to disrupt their friendship. Despite his efforts, traces of blood on his handkerchief and weakening health revealed his struggle. He carried the burden alone, torn between confessing and preserving their bond, the blossoming flowers threatening to overwhelm him.

One day, Kazuha, Hattori’s childhood best friend, went to his house to visit him. She had been so worried because he hadn’t been answering their texts and calls. It seemed to her that he was distancing himself.

She heard a very painful cough and hurried to the source of the sound.

"Heiji, what's wrong?" Kazuha's voice trembled with concern as he rushed over to help him.

"It's nothing, Kazuha, just a cough," Heiji attempted to brush it off, but the petals gave away the severity of his condition.

"Don't lie to me, Heiji. I know something's not right," Kazuha insisted, her eyes filling with worry.

Taking a deep breath, Heiji confessed, "I have the hanahaki disease. I have feelings for someone, but it's unrequited."

Kazuha's heart sank. "Have you told them?"

Heiji shook his head, "I can't. They love someone else."

Tears filled Kazuha's eyes as she embraced Heiji tightly. "You can't face this alone. I'll help you through this, Heiji."

He returned her hug, finally letting go of the pain and agony he had been carrying for the past few weeks.

~~

Timeskip to a case without Shinichi alongside him. The only people he knew there were the police investigator, Kazuha and… Hakuba.

After the case was solved, he felt like he was going to throw up. He covered his mouth and went to Kazuha.

“What’s wrong, Heiji?”

They communicated with their eyes. Kazuha worriedly looked at him and said: “Let me accompany you.” Heiji nodded as she led him to the nearest bathroom.

Hakuba was looking at them suspiciously so he decided to follow them.

With Kazuha and Heiji, they arrived at the comfort room and Heiji immediately threw up on the sink.

“Let it all out.” Kazuha said as she patted his back.

After he finished throwing up, the door suddenly opened. They were both startled as Hakuba walked in.

“You have the Hanahaki Disease? Hm, that’s why you were looking so suspicious the whole day.”

It remained quiet. Hakuba sighed and looked at Heiji seriously.

“Who is it?”

For the first time Heiji spoke, answering him.

“Kudo.”

“If you don’t mind me asking.. How did you fall in love with him?”

“Hakuba-kun!” Kazuha yelled and turned to her best friend, “You don’t have to tell him.”

Without looking at her, he shooked his head. “It’s alright, Kazuha.”

“I admired him. I saw him as a potential rival. He was my best friend . It was supposed to stay that way, I never thought that these feelings of mine would grow and develop into something else.” He paused for a second before continuing, “Romance. Such a dangerous yet sweet game. One that is hard to decipher. One that is hard to control. Even the best detective might have a hard time solving such a mystery. To solve and give a solution.”

"It sounds like you've gone through quite an emotional journey. Sometimes, feelings evolve unexpectedly, and navigating the complexities of romance can indeed be challenging. It seems like you're grappling with conflicting emotions and uncertainties about the nature of your relationship.” Hakuba said and the other just nodded. “So why not get surgery?”

“A surgery? Why would he get one? How is it connected to Hanahaki Disease?” Kazuha asked the blonde.

“Oh? You don’t know, Kazuha-san?” Hakuba turned to face the girl. “Getting surgery is one of the cures of this odd disease.”

“Wait, really?!” She turned to face Heiji and grabbed his left arm. “You should definitely get one, please! I don’t want you to die.”

“I’m sorry. But I’ve decided to let the flowers take over me.”

“What?! Are you an idiot, Heiji?!”

“It might be because when the flowers are removed, the victim's romantic feelings and their memories of that person also disappear.”

“Wh-what?”

“That’s exactly the reason. I’m sorry, Kazuha.”

“Think about it again, Hei." Her eyes were starting to get watery.

“Listen to her, Hattori. I know we’re not really that close. But I don’t wish for you to die because of these feelings of yours.” Hakuba crossed his arms. Heiji smiled.

‘Oh, how am I so lucky to have them as my friends? But unfortunately, my decision is fixed.’ He thought.

"I have thought about it since that day. Since I fell. Since I found out I have Hanahaki Disease. I wondered if I would ever get over this crush of mine for Kudo. I wondered if I should fall for someone else just so I can get rid of this disease. But I decided to not do it because I love Shinichi with all my heart, figuratively and literally." He chuckled and continued talking. "I wouldn't want to forget my love for him. I would especially not want to completely forget about him. Like, just because I need to get rid of this? It isn't really worth it. My memories of Shinichi and Shinichi, himself, are the most important."

After Heiji finished speaking, Kazuha hugged him and cried while the former patted her head.

Suddenly, Hakuba spoke.

“Do you mind?”

“What?” Heiji asked with a confused look on his face. His question was answered when the other opened his arms wide. Heiji laughed at the action and said, “Come here, Hakuba.”

The three hugged while comforting one another (mainly Kazuha).

~~

Hakuba had gathered the courage to confront Shinichi about Hattori's feelings. However, upon arriving, a bittersweet scene unfolded before his eyes.

Through the window, Hakuba witnessed Shinichi standing close to Kuroba, their gazes filled with an unspoken tenderness that spoke volumes. The way Shinichi looked at Kaito was unmistakably that of someone smitten, and deeply in love.

A pang of sadness and realization struck Hakuba. He understood at that moment that Shinichi's heart belonged to Kaito, and any attempt to intervene would only cause more heartache. With a heavy sigh, Hakuba murmured softly to himself, "Oh. I can’t save you after all…" The ache in his heart was evident as he whispered, "Hattori…"

Knowing he couldn't interfere or change the course of unrequited love, Hakuba silently turned away, leaving without confronting Shinichi. He carried with him the weight of unspoken truths and unfulfilled hopes, feeling the pain of Hattori's unreciprocated feelings for Shinichi. With a heavy heart, he left.

~~

Kazuha approached Heiji with the intention of discussing his situation once more.

“Heiji? Can I talk to you for a moment?”

“Oh? Sure, Kazuha. What is it?”

“How do I say this… I love you so much, platonically. You know that, right? I’ll always remember you. Even though I don’t approve of your reasoning, I can’t really stop you now, right? You’ve always been a hard-headed guy. Once you decide on something, you’ll absolutely push through it even if it may cause you harm.” She paused and reached for his arms, gripping them tightly. Heiji continued to stare at her, his worry evident in his expression. “But is it selfish of me to force you to get surgery? I don’t want you to die. I’ve always seen you as a sibling, and I just… I don’t think I can live without you.”

“Kazuha… I— ”

“I know, just… Please let me have this.” She let go of his arms and hugged him. “I don’t want to let you go.”

“I’ll be here with you when I die,” she sniffed, “I promise.” He said as he hugged her back, patting her head to calm her down.

Kazuha held onto Heiji tightly, feeling the weight of his words sinking in. She knew he was full of determination, a trait she admired but feared in this situation. As they stood there, embracing each other, silence enveloped them. Heiji's promise echoed in her mind. A bittersweet reassurance that offered comfort and heartache at the same time.

After a while, they slowly released their embrace, both trying to compose themselves. Kazuha looked up at Heiji, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "Thank you for understanding," she said softly

Heiji gently wiped away a tear from her cheek.

"I'll cherish every moment, Kazuha. And I'll make sure we have some unforgettable memories together."

With a faint smile, she nodded, trying to muster some courage.

"I'll support your decision, Heiji, even if it's hard for me. Just promise me one thing?"

Heiji nodded, his gaze fixed on hers, as he silently urged her to continue.

"Promise me you'll take care of yourself until... until the end," Kazuha said, her voice quivering.

Heiji nodded solemnly. "I promise, Kazuha."

They shared a sad look, knowing things wouldn't be easy. Kazuha turned away, trying to hide her tears as she walked off. Leaving Hattori behind, feeling heavy-hearted as he watched her leave.

~~

Weeks turned into months, Heiji’s pain increased. Each passing day seemed to be a countdown to an uncertain finale.

One fateful evening while he was engrossed in reading a book on his bed, he suddenly felt an awful pain in his chest. He then sat up and he was startled when he threw up two whole flowers.

“What is this..?” He gently held the flowers in his hand and that’s when he realized, “Oh, my end is near, isn’t it? I can’t believe I have no one with me when I die.”

He sighed in relief, “Thank goodness, I guess?”

Just then, there was a knock on his door.

“Oh, how can I open the door in this state?” But despite feeling unwell, he managed to open it.

To his surprise, Shinichi and Kuroba were there.

‘Fuck.’

“W-what are you doing here?” Heiji asked, feeling the flowers rising in his throat again.

“What? I can’t visit my best friend?” Shinichi lightly slapped the other’s arm.

“No, I mean– “ He choked as he didn't know what to say. 

His best friend whom he has a crush on and the reason he is suffering just visited him with him.

At this point, he had a vague idea why Shinichi visited him along with Kuroba.

“Relax, Hattori. I’m just here to introduce my boyfriend.”

“Kuroba Kaito, nice to meet you. Shinichi has been telling me all about you.”

‘Oh. So they finally got together huh..’

He knew they weren't meant to be. He knew they had no chance together. He knew but still… 

The sight of his best friend with his boyfriend hurts him more than anything. More than a thousand needles. More than this pain he is experiencing. 

It hurts even more than this damned Hanahaki Disease.

“Can we come in?” 

Shinichi’s voice echoed through his ears, snapping him from his train of thoughts.

‘Oh shit.’

“Uh sorry no. Um, I'm actually waiting for Hakuba.” Heiji hated how he lied to his best friend but this is for the best.

“Oh?” They both raised their eyebrows. “You have a date with him?” Shinichi said with an obvious hint of amusement.

Heiji sighed, “It’s not like that. We just have something to talk about.”

“Sure, sure.” Shinichi smiled and Kaito chuckled.

Heiji almost coughed out petals if it weren’t for his self control.

“Well, enjoy your date then. We’ll be on our way.” Shinichi winked at him as he proceeded to grab Kaito’s waist as they walked away.

Heiji closed the door and immediately coughed out a bunch of petals, similar to the two flowers he last threw up.

His heart ached. 

That should've been him. The person next to Shinichi. That should've been him. The one Shinichi holds dear. That should've been him. The one that Shinichi would call “his”. That should've been him.

That could've been them.

“Fuck. I swear the world hates me so much. This wasn’t the last conversation I wished to have.”

But fate doesn't work that way.

They weren't soulmates.

They weren't star crossed lovers.

They weren't “meant-to-be”.

It wasn't supposed to be Shinichi and Heiji.

It was Shinichi and Kaito.

Slowly, he went to his room and coughed up even more petals. He could feel the flower roots reaching his lungs, making it harder for him to breathe.

‘icantbreatheicantbreatheicantbreatheicantbreathe’

“Is this really the end?” He sobbed.

His sobs got quieter and quieter as he also slowly stopped breathing.

Fate didn't let them meet to be together.

Fate let them meet to be just friends.

His last words were: “I love you, Shinichi. Please don’t forget me.” He said as he coughed out two whole flowers. A forget-me-not and a sweet pea*.

Ultimately, from the very beginning to Heiji’s end, they could only be friends.

Forget-me-not : true love memories, do not forget me Sweet pea : blissful pleasures, goodbye, thank you for a lovely time