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papercorgiworld · 3 months

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Sleeping with a prefect

Mattheo Riddle imagine

Mattheo flirts with you because of your status as a prefect. However, you aren’t the only one falling in love. Fluff, smut, dramatics and you get to pick your ending sweet or smutty.

Warning: sweet smut

Picture source: https://pin.it/7BiTOcrKF

A/N: I planned to post something else but at the last moment I didn’t like it anymore, so I decided to finish this instead. I really hope it’s somewhat good. English is not my first language so be sure to feedback me if you spot any errors.

The notorious slytherins had come up with a new scheme to avoid detention. A little game called flirt with the prefect. They all had their appointed prefect that they had to woo, so when they would run into said prefect any consequences could be flirted or kissed away.

You were surprised when Mattheo Riddle suddenly showed interest in you. Part of you knew that it was suspicious, but Mattheo was charming and incredibly handsome. So, he had you wooed in no time. You would blush and smile at everything he said to you and when he did small things for you like hold a door or carry your books, you would bite your lip and avoid his gaze. You had fallen for him, so bad, and he knew, so well.

The flirting had been going on for weeks and so far they hadn’t run into you during prefect patrol. That was until tonight. You heard laughter in the distance and quietly made your way to the dark hallway from which the noise came. When you see the group of slytherins you immediately start to blush, knowing very well who’s amongst them. “This is at least a week's detention.” You speak up calmly and give the group a little jump scare. Mattheo’s eyes lock with yours and you smile. This is going to be easy. “Oh come on, love, why don’t you join us?” Mattheo asks cheerfully. For a moment you drown in his eyes, but you manage to snap out of it. “Nice try, but how about you all join Mcgonagoll in her office.” “Oh come on, (y/n), Matt has been wanting to introduce you to us for weeks.” Blaise pushes, giving you a bright smile. They all see you light up at the idea of being special to Mattheo. “Okay, guys we’re passed curfew, let’s just leave.” Mattheo says as he walks over to you with a playful smile.

Mattheo hanging with his friends, up to no good.

“No, you know I’m supposed to guide you to professor-“ You fall silent when Mattheo wraps his arm around you, his hand resting on the small of your back. You rest your hand on his chest in an attempt to keep a little distance. “Isn’t it just a few more minutes before your shift ends?” He asks his eyes never leaving yours. You see his friends leaving out of the corner of your eyes, their laughter makes you feel anxious and insecure. “Hey, let me keep you company.” Mattheo suggests dragging your attention away from his snickering friends. You nod and his hand slips away from you back to hold your hand. You walk around together for a few more minutes and then you check in with Mcgonagall, when you leave her office Mattheo is waiting for you around the corner. Even though he had promised you, you were still a little surprised he was there.

He walked you to your prefect bedroom. “Thanks for walking me to my room.” You sound more nervous than you had anticipated. Mattheo’s lips form an adoring smile and his arm snakes around your waist again. “Thanks for letting me and my dumb ass friends of the hook.” You shake your head. “Don’t get used to it, it was a one time thing, Mattheo.” Your face heats up as you notice he’s gently leaning in. “I promise this isn’t going to be a one time thing.” He says seductively before brushing his soft lips over yours and kissing you with surprising softness. When you break the kiss he lets his forehead rest on yours and watches your face. You looked dreamy, mostly because you had been dreaming of this moment for weeks. Mattheo gives you a soft peck on the lips before letting go of you. As soon as his arm leaves you, you're in desperate need for his warmth again.

“Wanna come in?” You ask pointing at your bedroom door in an attempt to win his warmth back. He stares at you with shiny eyes. This was taking the game too far but he also really wanted you. “Chances are I might never wanna leave.” And with those words it was like he owned you. He made you feel so wanted and loved. That’s probably why it only took a few seconds for him to be on top of you.

Mattheo had almost tackled you into your bed. One of your hands roamed his chest, while your other mercilessly messed up his hair. Mattheo on the other hand had a firm grip on your ass but was mostly interested in kissing you like his life depended on it. You rolled so you were on top and gave him a fiery kiss before sitting up and taking off your shirt. Mattheo watched you with starry eyes and pushed himself up to kiss you. He quickly moved to your neck and shoulder, while you worked on unbuttoning his shirt. Once a few buttons were undone, he just pulled it over his head and you both fell back on the bed again.

After some sloppy kisses you pull away from him and sit up again, your hand traces down to his pants. Mattheo’s eyes already roll to the back of his head at the idea of your touch. You make quick work of his belt and he is eager to help you lower his pants. Mattheo lets out a soft growl as you grip his shaft tightly, your thumb playing with his tip. He closes his eyes as you start pumping his hard cock. However, after a moment his eyes fling back open as he feels your mouth wrap around him. “Fuck, (y/n).” He watches you as you try to take in as much of him as you can. He lets out a few pleased moans and his fingers softly tangle in your hair. Mattheo bites his lip, his eyes glued to your head bobbing on his cock. “You’re being too good for me.” He pants and he closes his eyes again. You swirl your tongue on his dick swallowing his precum. “Okay, that’s it, love.” He suddenly snaps and tugs your hair. You’re a bit surprised for a moment, thinking you’ve done something wrong, but when his lips crash into yours you stop worrying.

“Good girls like you deserve to be taken care of.” Mattheo breaths as he kisses you with passion. He unclasps your bra and in a matter of moments you’re underneath him. He cups and squeezes one of your breasts while his tongue plays with your nipple, circling around it. When both your nipples are perked and covered in his saliva he moves down to your skirt. Now that you’re fully naked he takes in your entire body. “I’m gonna have your pretty cunt beg for me.” Like it wasn’t already. His fingers work tauntingly slow, teasing your folds before pushing in. When you arch your back and buck your hips wanting more of his fingers he leans down to let his lips brush over yours and then moves down to your chest. Your moans turn into whimpers and it encourages him to play with your clit even more, letting his fingers work at a rough pace. “Please. I need you.” You manage to utter. “No no, love, I need you to be absolutely soaking wet for me.” You wimper. “I am. I need-Riddle please.” You beg. “Am I still just Riddle to you. I am clearly doing something wrong.” He says playfully and pulls his fingers away.

His mouth moves from your boobs to your pussy. He eagerly starts eating you out. “Mattheo please.” You beg him as his mouth fucks you, but he’s clearly not pleased with your answer and just grabs a hold of your hips so his tongue can sink in deeper. You feel yourself climaxing. “Matty.” You cry out as you feel your entire body tense. Satisfied that you’re this close Mattheo pulls away adoring the mess he has turned you into. He spreads your legs so he can align his cock with your glinstering cunt. “I’m gonna move in slowly, but I’m going to fuck you so hard.” You can hear how turned on he is by the tone of his voice. His with cum soaked dick easily enters your wet pussy. You still feel stretched and full when he’s inside and your hands push on his chest signaling that he needs to give you a little time to adjust. He lets his cock rest inside you and takes this moment to treat you with soft kisses.

When you wrap your legs around him he starts moving into you softly, but as soon as he realizes you can handle more he’s pounding into you. The pace at which he’s thrusting and his sweaty panting body above you has you feeling feelings you hadn’t felt before. “Rid-Matty.” He looks at you with an amused smile, but there’s something dark in his eyes. “If you call me by my last name like I’m some stranger I’ll pull out and leave you like the mess you are.” You nod with innocent eyes, turning him on even more. Merlin, you're making him go feral. He grabs your hips and slams into you. You grab a hold of your pillow, partially hiding your face as your orgasm washes over you, shaking and moaning underneath him. “(Y/n), you are so beautiful, please don’t hide from me, (y/n).” It came out way more pleading than intended, but Mattheo was so close and his dominant side really needed to see you, all of you. Seeing your pretty and flustered face had him spilling his seed into you.

After that he helped you clean up and put on your pajamas. You helped him find his boxers among the scattered clothes in your room. He didn’t intend to stay the night but his orgasm had drained his energy and you looked so comfortable to snuggle with. It ended up being a night of switching between being the big and little spoon. However, the morning after was so warm and safe that the both of you stayed in too long, having to rush to get ready for class.

***

Mattheo had forgotten his jacket so as soon as you’re ready you go look for him. You spot him rushing towards his friends who’re standing at the entrance of the great hall. “You went out of your way to get us out of detention.” You hear Blaise say as he pats Mattheo’s shoulder. “You seriously slept with her. I mean flirting with prefects is one thing but sleeping with them.” Draco ads before Mattheo can say anything. “Guys, guys.” Theodore suddenly hushes everyone as he points his head, making Mattheo turn around to see you standing there with teary eyes holding his jacket. “You forgot this, Riddle.” You say with a shaky voice as you reach to give him his jacket back. Mattheo’s head tilts and his lips part, he wants to say something, but no words come. He reaches for you, but you just push his jacket into his arms. “(Y/n), what you heard wasn’t true.” Mattheo tries to explain but you let out an angry half laugh. “You don’t need to explain. I get it you whored yourself out of detention. I hope you’re real proud of yourself.” You say it loud enough for some people to catch on. You quickly walk away and Mattheo shuts his eyes, cursing himself.

Mattheo turning around and seeing you.

***

“Pans, can you pass me those mashed potatoes?” Mattheo asks as he points towards a bowl near her. “Depends, I hear you are willing to do a lot to get what you want, mister manwhore.” Pansy and her friends snicker and Mattheo just gets up leaving his food for what it is. “That sensitive?” Pansy quirks an eyebrow. “(Y/n) quit as prefect and skipped every class today.” Theo explains. “So? What did Matt expect?” Theo sighs. “Apparently, without any of us noticing, Riddle… kind of… fell in love with (y/n).” Pansy’s eyes widened. “No way!”

***

Mattheo had been searching for you the entire day so when he finally spots you walking alone after dinner he rushes towards you. As he’s fast walking in your direction, he feels his anger build up. Anger mainly directed towards himself, but also towards you for not giving him a chance to explain. So when he gets a hold of you he shoves you against a wall. His arms rest on the wall on either side of you locking you in and his angry eyes scare you. “You’re going to listen to me.” He demands and you try to push him aside but it’s pointless. “I didn’t whore my way out of detention. I fucked you because I wanted to! Because I want you. Because I’m fucking falling for you.” When he sees your face soften up after hearing his confession, he calms down and cups your cheek. “I know I screwed up, but you have to give me a chance.” Mattheo’s eyes are desperate and his voice is pleading.

The ‘give me a chance, I need you’ look.

“You played me. You flirted with me because I was a prefect.” Mattheo’s heart aches as he sees your eyes getting teary. “That doesn’t matter anymore. This, me begging for you to give me a chance, is real.” There’s still doubt in your eyes, but Mattheo wants you. He can’t stand the idea of not having you, especially after getting to enjoy your warmth and love the night before. His fear of losing you peaks, making him clench his jaw. “I want you!! I’ll make you (y/n) Riddle. I’ll make you the mother of my children. Fuck! You want me, (y/n), and you have me.” His voice is filled with harsh desperation, with a clear hint of regret and anger. “I’ve never felt this way before.”

Sweet ending:

Your eyes fall down to the floor and you stare at your feet, not knowing what to think of his words. Mattheo falls silent and drops his arms, giving you space to move away if you wish. His entire body tenses to keep himself from falling apart as he sees your fidgeting fingers. He slowly reaches for your hands, taking them in his and drawing circles on the back of your hand. That you allowed him to do that gave him courage to speak up again with a soft voice. “(Y/n), I-” You interrupt him by squeezing his hand and your eyes lock. “I’ve never felt this way before either. That’s why I’m so scared to get hurt.” You admit with a shaky voice and watering eyes. Mattheo presses his head against yours. “I’m so sorry.” He whispers with a heart gripping honesty.

Slowly your head moves to lay on his shoulder and Mattheo finally finds peace now that he can wrap his arms around you again. “I’m sorry I said that you whored your way out of detention.” You whisper with your head still resting on him. You hear Mattheo softly chuckle and he leans his head against yours. “You don’t have to apologize, honestly, you should’ve said worse. I know I deserve it.” You lift your head to say something, but decide no words can explain what you’re feeling. So you cup his cheek and bring your lips to his.

Smutty ending:

Your silence makes him panic. If he can’t convince you with words, actions might do the trick. He pushes you into a nearby empty classroom. He falls to his knees. “You don’t want to believe me, I’ll make you believe me.” He snarls as he pulls your panties down with a harsh tugg. He immediately diggs in and you let him, reaching for his curls as you buck your hips so his tongue is where you want it. He was going to fuck you with his mouth, fingers and cock until you were his.

Word count: 2645

#slytherin #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle #papercorgiworldwritings

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davosmymaster · 1 year

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No Time To Die

TAGS AND WARNINGS - +18, Minors DNI, no explicit smut but sexual themes, whump, a lot of angst, blood, graphic wounds and procedures (?) probably not medically accurate, could be almost gore if you squint, hurt/comfort, two dorks in love, canon-typical violence, near-death experiences. Not based on the game, I don’t know anything about the game and I don’t want spoilers please.

PAIRINGS - Joel Miller x fem!reader

WORD COUNT - 9.6k.

SUMMARY - The main difficulty of being Joel’s closest friend is not falling in love with him, but you still do. Those feelings are buried until you join him on a mission to trade supplies with Bill and Frank. With your life now hanging by a thread, Joel is determined to get you to safety, but the clock is ticking faster than he can run.

A/N - I honestly don’t know what this is. I tried to look for angsty and whumpy fics and couldn’t find any that hit the spot just right; so I wrote my own. This story is set in some time between 2010 and 2020, or so. Bill and Frank are still very much alive. The only warning apart the amount of blood in this, it’s my own knowledge of the English language.

'Breathe'

With a shiver, you try to comply with your own command. The action itself confuses you, and you don't know where exactly in your mind that thought came from; or why. All you know is that a moment ago you were nothing, absolutely nothing, not even human. You forgot your own existence in a still ocean made of black thick ink. The ink is now backtracking, though, but the remnants of it stay in your foggy mind, clouding it as your consciousness comes back in waves.

Waking up from a dream is easy, you just come back into yourself from a nice trip to your own imagination. Regaining consciousness, however, is a little more difficult. Instead of going somewhere, you go inwards into yourself. Your overworked mind, already tired and busy with keeping you alive, doesn't care much about bringing you to any other place so you can die peacefully. No. And the awakening is not as it should be either.

Coming back into yourself is your body crawling its way to the land of the living, with your flesh drenched in tears, blood and sweat; and nails digging firmly into the dirt. At least that's how it feels as you go back and forth between the two worlds, rocked violently by the waves threatening to drown you in its heavy never-ending dream.

You wake up tired, and cold. The first sense that returns is touch; and with it, a pulsing pain radiates from under the right side of your collarbone and all the way down to your chest and back. The —obvious— wound is warmer than the rest of your body. It's like you've grown a second heart right at the borders of the wound; it throbs relentlessly. The second is taste. Your mouth tastes like salt and melted butter; despite not having eaten either in at least three days. Around the dryness of your tongue you feel a sticky liquid swirling around in your mouth, plastered to your gums.

Whatever it is, you cough it out of your mouth. The old blackened blood splatters on the wooden planks below your mouth. Then, a second later, you feel a sprawled hand on your back; and the rest of your consciousness returns with it.

He calls your name. And he, whose presence you'd have recognized even blindfolded, even miles away from there, doesn't appear in your mind for a few seconds. But even half-conscious and at death's gates, his name leaves your mouth with a sigh of relief.

Joel.

"I'm here," he says, his palm now pressing a bit harder into your back, trying to comfort you somehow. If you had been fully aware, you'd have been embarrassed at the relieved groan that had escaped your lips while saying his name. "How are you feeling?"

His voice sounds less muffled now, but the pulsing pain intensifies the closer you are to the surface. A second groan escapes your mouth as the warmth under your collarbone becomes impossible to ignore.

"I know, I know" he says.

Your eyes flutter open. From your point of view there's not much to see except torn wallpaper, your blood stains, and the shadow of a window. You're on the floor, your cheek pressed against the dusty carpet, your body very still laying on them, and Joel rubbing your back.

The room is dark. His fingers enter your field of vision, they dip on the wet blood stains and turn around so Joel can see the sticky fluid staining his fingers. He takes a breath, a gasp, really.

"Goddamnit," he mutters under his breath. His hand stops rubbing your back, and as black stains crawl from the corners of your vision, trying to take you under the waves again, he talks to you:

"I need to turn you around..." he says with a gentle voice. It's like the icing on top of a sour and burnt cake; he's trying to sound caring, but that doesn't change the fact that it's going to hurt like a bitch. "You hear me?" he says, and his voice breaks for a second. Your ears ring, the next thing he says your brain doesn't process it, your vision has been clouded by darkness again...

A scream tores your throat as a shooting pain lights your body on fire. It feels like lightning going through your backbone. Suddenly, the waves are very far away and you're feeling way too conscious for your liking. Despite your pain, Joel is still as careful as he can as he lays you on the floor, now facing the ceiling instead.

The throbbing pain continues, and you blink to get rid of the tears that distort Joel's face. His hand wipes the tears from your face.

"I know," he says. He has a crease between his seemingly angry eyebrows that you had never seen before.

Both hands are roaming your ribs now, before you can even say anything. His warm hands give you shivers as he touches your naked skin. The pain is so unbearable that all you can do to mitigate it is hold your breath. If you could move, you'd be right now curled on the floor like a pretzel. You are not crying anymore, but you'd be lying if you said you weren't close.

"Can you breathe?" he asks then, when he doesn't find any cracks in your ribs by touch alone. You don't respond because you can't find your own voice, and he sounds desperate at this point. "You coughed blood, I need to know if any of your lungs are collapsing."

"It-it hurts..." you wheeze, your eyes tightly shut. For a split second, you wish you were back to being nothing. Being nothing sounds way better than having a gunshot wound in your chest. The bandages, tight over your bones and shoulder, don't mitigate the pain either. If anything, they worsen it. It feels like a tight sock over a painful pustule on your heel.

Worst part is you know all this pain is for nothing; you know you won't make it. If you go back to the QZ, you will be executed. If not, there's nobody to help you except Joel. But even if there were doctors or hospitals, you highly doubted you could find the necessary tools to extract a bullet and stitch the wound. That is, if you manage not to die of blood loss.

"Where?" Joel asks. Even beyond all this concern and well-hidden panic, he seems to cling to an ounce of hope. "Tell me where it hurts."

Your fingers gently trace your skin until they reach the area under your collarbone, and you sign to your back too. There's a bandage there, but nothing else, and that's when you notice you don't have a shirt on, just your blood-soaked bra.

"Is it bad?"

"Not that bad. The bullet went through," he said. That explains the pain on both sides of your body; you have a literal hole in your chest. "And it clotted soon enough to stop the bleeding, but you lost too much blood anyway... Anywhere else?"

Your whole body hurts and this abandoned house suddenly feels like penance, but you don't want to scare him further, so you shake your head no very slowly.

"Alright," he mumbles. Joel nods once, and it looks like he is reassuring himself. His eyes betray him, he looks like he is very far away from here, very buried under all the scenes playing on his mind; but despite his stillness, his lower lip quivers.

You can't move your right arm at all, but with the other hand, your fingers lightly touch his knuckles still resting on your stomach. He winces, and your fingers are wet with his blood too. He must have beaten to death whoever shot you, that you are certain about.

Your voice, little more than a weak breath, whispers:

"I-I want you to do it."

The crease between his eyebrows deepens. He seems confused rather than angry; the reaction you were hoping for. You take a breath to repeat your own words, but he squeezes your hand.

"Don't," he says.

"Joel..."

"Don't even think about it," he snarls. "You are perfectly fine, don't be dramatic."

You don't know what hurts more; his pain or yours, but his denial makes your eyes wet with tears again. This is already hard, but he is making it even harder. All he will achieve by trying to keep you alive is either prolonging his pain or getting himself killed. You both know this is no world for the injured and the sick, not out of the QZ, at least. And in most cases, not inside either.

All you ask of him is to not leave you for the infected to find. Is that too much to ask?

You want to insist, but you know he won't have it. Joel has lost so much already that the thought of losing what little left he has is not even going to cross his mind. Not until it's too late, at least. Also, you don't want your last moments with him to be a fight. You are tired of fighting, of swimming against the current. You just want to let go for once, give in to the external forces, close your eyes and peacefully breathe.

What's more, you should have already known that he wouldn't do you that favor. He is too selfish for that.

He pats your cheeks gently with his large hands, and your eyes, already rolling back into your skull, get focused on him again with a few blinks. You breathe slowly, trying to focus on him, on the world around you slowly twisting and turning.

"...that's it," he says, it doesn't sound like his first sentence, so you guess he's been talking to you before. When you look back at him, his breathing is shallow, and you know he is trying to take a hold of himself too, trying not to give in to panic. "Good girl, that's it. Keep your eyes on me."

Exhausted and hurting as you are, keeping your eyes open it's like asking you not to drop a weight that you cannot, in fact, handle; but you try nonetheless. It's your fault, really, for letting yourself go, for trying to give up on your fight earlier than you should. Joel is here trying to keep you alive, mending all your broken ends and stitching them together —he has always been good at that— while you're just trying to give up on him —you are really good at that too—.

Giving up on Joel has been one of the hardest things you've ever had to do; and now you're letting him go for the last time. Part of you is glad you don't have to keep watching how he chooses Theresa over and over again. You are even relieved that fate —or whatever there is out there— is forcing you out of the equation. After all, you would never have given up fully on him.

He refuses to kill you, what he doesn't know is that you've been dead for a long while now. Him being your executioner would be the kindest act he could have with you, the most intimate thing you'd ever share; your last moments. You want it to be him, you want him to free you from this torment.

He refuses, though; and it feels like a punch to the pit of your stomach. You shiver.

He gets up from his place on the floor, where you are lying just over the carpet. You follow him with your eyes and see a fire cracking up in a fucked-up chimney. He stokes the fire, throws some more wood on it and then comes back to you, covering you with his jacket, the very same jacket you had on before he turned you around. It's warm, his, and you have to stop yourself from sinking your nose into the collar.

"I had to take off your shirt to patch you up," he says, but he doesn't say sorry. Ever. So you guess it's his way of apologizing.

You simply nod, aware that you had wished for this very moment to happen many times before. You had dreamt of his rough hands over your naked flesh, caressing the sides of your body. You had dreamt of him watching you with those chocolate eyes as you took your shirt off, deep black pupils spreading over the brown as he watched the lace fall like a helpless witness.

But now the bra was covered in blood and he was watching you anywhere but the lace. He had a frightened and concerned look on his face, rather than aroused. A look that would have made you feel guilty and ashamed if it had happened in the other scenario. And instead of undressing you, he was covering your body with his jacket as if you were his child.

"What's wrong?" he is asking now, instead of whispering 'I want you' and it hurts all the same to know he's not ever going to say it, and that Tess now will have all those words for however long their lives are.

You guess they were made for each other. And it makes all the sense, really, no one like Joel would ever look at you twice. You were grateful that he even allowed you to be his friend.

"Nothing," you respond.

It's always 'nothing' when it comes to Joel. It's always that nothing whenever he notices you are under the weather. It's always nothing when you are hurt, when someone tries to rob you and they leave an angry black eye on your face. It's always nothing; and he never believes you.

"I don't make promises, you know that," he says, taking your left hand in his. "but you will be fine, I swear."

You don't know what to say, how to explain that you are not scared of death, that you are just scared of not seeing him again. But you can't, so you say nothing and just nod.

Does he want to hurt himself? Okay. You can't do much while lying on the floor anyway.

After that, both of you stay silent. Joel seems to be avoiding looking at you. His eyes are stuck in the fire creaking in the chimney, but they are too restless to be present and conscious of the yellow and orange haze.

Your palm lands on his thigh, your fingers gently brushing the denim. You want to comfort him somehow, but, at the same time, you are scared he will reject your touch and reassurance. That's all you can do for him: no words, no further touching, just a featherlight touch that indicates you are still present. There, with him.

"I thought we couldn't make a fire."

"Don't be dumb. The windows are all broken, it's winter and you are in shock. How else would you heat up?"

"Got it. You're not in a talking mood," you huff. "Alright."

Silence settles between both of you. However, one of his big, rough hands travels to where your fingertips are gently brushing his thigh. At the touch, even if you don't want to let go, your fingers begin to back off. He's not in a good mood, and you seem to be pushing his boundaries a little too much. Except that, instead of letting you go, he catches your hand in his and puts it back over his jean. This time, it's him who brushes his thumb over your knuckles.

For a minute, the only sound in the living room are both your breathing patterns, the flames licking the air and the wind rushing through the broken windows.

"I'm sorry..." you start. And immediately, his brown eyes are all over you again. Your voice sounds exhausted, more than you'd have liked. "...I fucked up the mission. I know-"

"You haven't fucked up anything," he interrupts. That's Joel, all stoic, swallowing his feelings and denying everything that it is not up to his standards. "Would you mind to just rest-"

Your eyes well with tears.

"Joel, for once... Just for once, don't lecture me, don't ignore what I'm trying to say just because you don't want to hear it," you tell him. Then, he thankfully presses his lips together in a pained grimace, but stays silent nonetheless. "I fucked up the mission getting injured. I know it isn't my fault, but it doesn't matter whose fault it is. If you wanna go on without me, I won't blame you."

His fingers are now squeezing yours, but you know he is not even conscious of that. He leans in a little, his cheeks now reddened in anger. He looks like he is about to spit on your face.

"I'm not leaving you anywhere," he says. He looks offended that you even thought he was capable of that. "You and I are gonna get to Lincoln, either if you like it or not. There, Bill and Frank will help you. We have traded all kinds of things with them, and I know they are very well supplied."

"Why would they help me?"

"They are not just people we trade with," he says. His fingertips brush a strand of hair out of your face. "I know they will."

"What if they changed their minds?"

His pupils lock into your own, his jawline swells as he grits his teeth.

"I'm persistent."

The mission was supposed to be an easy one. Walk out of the QZ undetected, walk fifteen miles to the town of Lincoln, just outside Boston, get our things and come back. Our cargo were the two last spools of aluminum that Joel had promised to trade with them and two packets of seeds. Theirs? Two pounds of rolling tobacco and a gun. Tess couldn't make it, she had appointments with other smugglers, probably the ones who snuck the drugs in; which was more than half of their business. If it wasn't that important, she wouldn't have stayed in the QZ for anything in the world. But Bill and Frank were also important, and Joel couldn't go alone.

The two of you should be home by now, and you wondered if Tess was regretting her decision of asking you to go with him. Last night you had both snuck out of the Boston QZ; and it usually didn't take more than six hours to get to Lincoln. But just outside the city you had bumped into raiders; and a stray bullet had hit you. Now you were stranded in a small cabin lost in the woods, about seven miles away from Lincoln; and unable to walk a single step.

And to top it all off, Joel was enraged and neurotic.

Still with the same expression, he takes your wrist and squeezes two fingers into it. Even if you had preferred him not to, knowing that your heartbeat got wild whenever he was around. You let him check on you, hoping that if your symptoms got better he would let you have a quick nap. Your nervousness, however, doesn't improve despite your efforts of trying to calm yourself down.

"Since when are you a doctor?"

He lets your wrist go, then gets back on his feet and gets his rifle.

"You should rest. You'lll need it," he says, now heading to the entrance. He's gonna be standing on guard all night, you are sure of that. "We're leaving tomorrow morning."

That is when you lose it. You can't believe he is that blind, that caught up in his own world.

"I know in your perfect fantasy this is just a scratch, but I truly can't move, Joel. Even laying here awake is hard. How am I supposed to follow...? Joel!"

But he's out of the house before you even finish the sentence.

[***]

Joel doesn't keep his word.

A few hours later, not even near dawn yet, you get pulled back from a dream. Your eyes take a few minutes to register your surroundings; again. And the memories gallop back to your mind in a rush; accompanied by the burning and piercing pain on the upper right side of your chest. Your eyes shut tight, and you inhale a shallow breath. Even breathing hurts.

"We need to go," Joel whispers. His voice sounds muffled, especially over the sound of your beating heart. "C'mon, wake up."

He is once again rocking you rather than shaking you awake. Just to be able to fall asleep you had rolled back into your chest, cheek once again firmly pressed against that twenty-year-old dusty carpet. When he came back from checking the perimeter, not even five minutes after your argument, he placed his backpack right under your stomach so your right side was elevated. You wouldn't have been able to fall asleep if it wasn't for that. The pain was maddening, atrociously painful. Joel had found you gritting your teeth even in your sleep.

He had said you'd leave the next day, but you felt like not even minutes had passed.

"Morning," you complained, half a grunt accompanying your words. Joel shook you gently again when he saw you relax a second time, and your voice came back. "Y-you said...mor-"

"I know what I said but we can't wait any longer," he answered. "I'm gonna sit you up."

Fear pumped enough adrenaline into your system to wake you up. The ache from before rushed back into your mind, and your 'please' and 'wait' left your mouth like a prayer.

"I can do it," you said, but it sounded more like begging than an affirmation.

"I know you can," he lied. As your eyes opened and you saw his expression —eyes focused on you, trembling hands, half of his face hidden in the shadows, the other half gently licked by the orange-like haze of the dying fire— you understood that you had to be in a really bad condition for him to look at you that way, and feel the need to lie to make you feel better. But then, a second right after that, his shoulders relaxed, his eyes fluttered between your face and the surface of his jacket over your shoulders. His stoic mask was back on. "I'm just gonna help you, okay? But you do it."

He did not, in fact, let you do it.

You had managed to lift yourself barely an inch over the carpet, using all the strength left in your healthy arm, when both his hands curled around your side and pulled you up to his chest. Clenching your jaw, you allowed him to drag you a few feet back and into a seating position against the wall; your whole weight over the left side of your body.

"Don't lean on the other side, your shoulder blade is broken."

"Oh..." you almost chuckled. "Great."

For a second, Joel looks at you as if you were completely insane. He reaches for his backpack, crouching on the place where you were lying just seconds prior. Then takes his flask and doubts when passing it on.

"I'm not that desperate for water," you respond, reaching for the flask and drinking a gulp of the liquid. You swallow despite the soreness in your throat. "Next thing you'll do is spit food into my mouth."

"Not even getting shot shuts your fucking mouth, does it?" he says, grossed out at your comment. However, a smile tugs at the corners of his lips. Relaxing him has a calming effect on you too.

You try to pass him the flask again, but he refuses.

"No," he says. "Drink it all. You'll need it."

You look at him with narrowed eyes, confused. It's hard to keep a single thought in your head other than the throbbing pain in your chest and back, but you still try. Rather than asking him how you are supposed to walk seven miles, with the aluminum and his pack, you try to approach the matter another way.

"What's the plan?"

He takes a deep breath.

"You're not gonna like it," he says, his deep voice almost slurring the words. It's barely a whisper. He looks into your eyes, then. "I'm gonna carry you."

"What?"

"You heard me."

There's not an ounce of doubt in his eyes. Joel has that look of determination, the one you only really see when he has his eyes set on something really fucking important for him; most times that includes his own brother or not talking about the times before the outbreak. And with that look on his face, you know there's nothing you could possibly say or do to make him reconsider his own words. He's stubborn like that.

You still try.

"It's seven miles, Joel..." you tell him on a thready voice, a whisper. And Joel sighs through his nose —as if he had forgotten. "And we have to carry..."

"We leave everything here," he says. "Come back for it later."

"They won't let us in empty-handed."

"You don't know them."

For Joel to be so certain about it, certain enough as to put both your life and his on the hands of strangers; you understand that their relationship goes beyond trading. Joel had told you about them, about their situation and the first time Tess and him had shared dinner with Bill and Frank. Still, you were suspicious of them, and you thought that he was too; up until now, at least.

"It's still seven miles," you tell him, and you know him, you know he's about to stop talking to you and leave the room if you don't, at least, partly give in to his reasoning. "...are you sure you wanna do it?"

His pleading brown eyes engulf you, then, with an emotion he had never showed before. His gaze diverts for a second to your wound, to the bandages that, as you look at them, you find they are once again covered in blood. They are soaked in it, the skin surrounding it has a large black bruise —internal bleeding, you guess. And when you try to take a full deep breath, you find yourself unable to, at least not at full capacity.

The understanding hits you, then. You don't have much time left.

"I don't have any other choice," Joel says, but what he means is 'I don't want to lose you'.

"Okay."

Not even a full second has passed from your reluctant acceptance, but he is already on his feet. Joel walks to the only table in the room, takes your gun and puts it in his hip, right inside the jean. The only other thing he takes apart from ammo is another set of bandages —and he silently thanks whatever it is out there that he put those there a month ago—. He doesn't have anything to clean the wound, though; and one of his biggest fears is that it might already be infected. Even bandaged it looks bad.

He approaches you, crouches down so he is facing the wound.

"I'm going to tighten the bandage, and I have to keep the pressure," he says, loosening the knot. His fingers are once again stained with you blood, and he has to fight the images of him pressing on your wound from a few hours ago, when he had found you and, with trembling hands, had tried to stop the bleeding coming out in waves. He looks at you, trying to forget the awful picture of your eyes closed, your body limp on the ground. "Bite something."

You reach for the sleeve of his jacket, the one hanging from your shoulders; and put the padded cuff of his jacket into your mouth.

Joel doesn't give you a warning; and you're not sure if that's a good or bad thing, either. He presses the heel of his hand right over the covered hole in your chest, with such strength that you wonder if he will end up breaking your clavicle in half. As he presses your body against the wall, you can almost feel the cracked bones in your back smashing against each other.

Needless to say, the pain is blinding. The view of the room, the feeling of his heat around you, the scent of him under your nose... all gone in a matter of seconds. Your vision turns white, all your senses stop functioning. Over the scream that falls from your lips, muffled by the jacket, you hear him say:

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

He lets go, and your vision immediately darkens, the shadows flowing from the corners of the room quick to reach you. With your last grip on reality you feel yourself melting against the wall, slowly slipping to the side. Joel catches you before you hit the floor.

Cold water is what brings you back. Your breathing quickens at the coldness of it, and the next thing you feel are his wet hands palming your cheeks, throwing water from his flask all over your face.

"C'mon," he mumbles. "I need you awake."

Your eyes flutter open, your whole body relaxed now that he's not applying pressure; but alert enough that your unfocused eyes make a single shape out of him.

While coming back into yourself, Joel does not have any time to lose. He takes his jacket over your shoulders and slips your left arm inside the sleeve, the other, where the wound is, he decides to leave it as it is; and buttons it over your chest so you're not exposed.

"You good?"

In any other situation you'd have said some joke, or just something to piss him off. But as of right now, nothing comes to your clouded mind; and even if something did come, you're too exhausted to even do the mental effort to say it. So you just nod.

"Okay," he nods too, talking to himself inside his head, then takes your face in his hands and looks into your eyes. "You're fine, you hear me? I'm gonna carry you and you're gonna be on my back; so I need you talking all the damn time, alright?

You nod again.

"Starting now."

"Y-yes... okay."

"Good," he says. His hand crawls to the back of your neck, and he joins both your foreheads. He takes quick breaths. He's terrified when he whispers. "You're doing so good. I'm so proud of you."

"Y-you... are?"

"Mm-hmm," he says. And as his words settle into your brain, you feel your chest warm. When you open your eyes and he separates, there's a tear on his cheek, but he's quick to wipe it off. "I'm gonna open the front door."

It's just an excuse, you both know it, but neither dares to say anything. None of you wants to talk about the elephant in the room, the fact that your chances are slim even if this works.

Joel returns quickly, with his lashes wet and reddened eyes. It makes you speechless, to know that all this effort and tears are for you. You'd have never, in a million years, thought you'd ever see Joel Miller cry; let alone for you. He had always been so quiet, so detached from everyone, even from Tess.

Without a word, his hands get hooked on the underside of your thighs. He lifts you up, seemingly effortlessly, and your inner thighs surround his hips. You take a deep breath, again —or at least try to— as you try not to blush and show those feelings you buried long ago. This is not the time, nor the place; so you allow your head to follow his range of motion; forwards. Soon, your nose is pressed against the lapels of his denim shirt. With your good arm, you grab one of his broad shoulders. The other falls limp, and even that little movement hurts like hell.

He freezes, his shoulders now stiff under your hand. His beard grazes your jaw as he tries to look at you, so still in his arms.

"You okay?"

"Yeah..."

Better than okay, you want to respond. Better than I've been in a long time. But you don't.

He leaves you on the table, on the edge, with your legs dangling. His eyes waver for a second as he leaves you there, his hands squeeze your knees in such a brief movement that you wonder if he was even conscious of that. He looks like he wants to say something, but he can't think of what, so he turns around and bends his knees a little to get you to a good height.

"I need you to push yourself up with your good arm," he instructs. "and keep the other still, okay?"

"Okay," you respond, fighting the urge to just nod instead.

Not even following his instructions to a t saves you from the pain. The effort, even with your arm limp in the air, makes your body shudder and an agonizing stab runs through your whole spine. The scream that tores from the depths of your throat is so intense that Joel hesitates to put you back on the table, his back trembles for a second as his body shivers in distress. But, in the end, he has you in the air with a good hold.

He waits, but doesn't hear anything except shallow breaths, doesn't feel anything but the weight of your head over his shoulder.

"You with me?" he asks. He is seconds away from aborting the mission.

"Y-yeah..."

Your arm surrounds his neck loosely. Your fist is closed tightly, grabbing the other shoulder, and he wishes he could touch you, give you some kind of comfort, but he can't let go from his grip under your knees.

Joel does not have the privilege of time, every second is precious, so not even giving it a try, he starts walking as if you weighted nothing. He crosses the front door and the freezing cold wind of the East Coast cuts your cheeks. If he notices —and you know that he has, wearing just his shirt in the middle of the night— he doesn't react.

"Remember what I told you?" he asks.

In less than a minute he has crossed the space from the cabin to the highway, where you were surprised by raiders. You look around, see the bodies of five men sprawled on the floor; lifeless, drowning in a pool of their own blood. One of them has his face mauled to nothing. The sight is so sickening —or maybe you are getting so ill— that a sudden dizziness takes hold of your shivering body.

"Hey..."

"I'm sorry..." you start, teeth chattering from the cold. "I'm sorry I screamed into your ear earlier."

A sound, half a relieved sigh and half a chuckle, leaves his mouth.

"I'm half deaf from that ear anyway."

A light chuckle falls from your lips too. Joel keeps walking west through the highway, and you keep yourself desperately clinging to him for dear life. The moon is your only other companion; without her, you both would be completely blind in the darkness of the night.

[***]

Joel probably hadn't thought about the possibility of taking breaks along the way. That's why, fourty-five minutes later, and under a beautiful sunrise of orange tones, he's struggling to keep going. His knees are screaming for him to stop, his biceps and hands tired of walking with a person's weight over his shoulders. And for the first time in years he remembers the times before the outbreak, when he was capable of lifting and moving huge pieces of furniture; often times on his own, other times with just Tommy.

He might have overestimated his own strength, assuming he was as strong as before. But it seems that not only his mental health has deteriorated after Sarah's death, no. All of him has become older and darker and more broken since then. He hardly recognizes himself in the mirror anymore.

"Joel?"

"Yeah..." he gasps, out of air. "Sorry, I got distracted. You were saying...?"

It is in moments like this that he hates not to be that same person he was before. He wonders if he is, finally, paying for his past sins, for all the people, infected or not, that he has killed.

It is unfair, the fact that you're paying for his piper.

"You should stop for a while," you tell him, your voice low like a whisper. The warm air from your mouth slithers across his skin, up his neck, over his ear, and almost sends a shiver down his spine.

"No."

"Joel..." you huff. Before speaking again, you take a big gulp of air. "We are not getting anywhere if you don't take breaks. You'll just wear yourself off before we reach the halfway mark."

His mind refuses to agree, but it's as if his body takes a relieved breath when he hears the words. Little by little, his body starts to listen to you before his mind does. His thighs are screaming, sore from the pain of exertion; and before he acknowledges, even, his body has stopped moving.

"Okay," he gasps, quick tired breaths quickly entering and leaving his lungs. "...but just a minute, we don't have time for this bullshit."

"Okay," you say, in the same tone he used earlier with you; when he lied and said he knew you could sit up on your own. "Just a minute."

He pulls to the side of the road, and with the last of his strength he kneels down and tries to lay you on the ground as carefully as possible. You fall on your ass on the wet ground, but at least you don't hurt yourself on the spot. He asks you for the millionth time in the last twenty-four hours if you are okay.

"I think I'm doing better than you," you respond, but your voice is so exhausted that Joel would love to just lay next to you and lull you to sleep.

He turns around, his whole weight sitting on the grass as he takes gulps of oxygen. His eyes shut tightly, he wipes off a tear of sweat from his temple and looks at you.

Wide-open eyes stare back at you, but just for a split second. He gets closer, his thumb brushing the shoulder of the brown jacket, his brown jacket. His eyes pierce yours.

"Are you sure?"

"That bad do I look?"

Joel doesn't look at you, not at your face getting paler by the second or the dark circles under your eyes, or your hair now dishevelled. He sees you on his memories and can barely recognize you; your skin and eyes always glowing under the sun, your hair always perfectly done. Your job was often to act as an HR for their clients, and very rarely took actual FEDRA jobs that stained your hands; you weren't like Joel, you didn't care about rations or money or whatever.

Expert fingers gently tug at the buttons, unbuttoning them so he could take a look to the wound. He had barely a glimpse of it when your fingers stopped his hands. Joel looks at you with those puppy eyes, as if you were about to faint in the next second.

"If you wanted to see me naked you didn't have to wait until I got shot, you know?"

You had said it in a playful manner, kidding, as a joke; but he saw beyond that. Part of you had only expected him to laugh, the other was dying —not pun intended— for him to kiss you. You'd have never said it if you weren't in this position, you'd have never gotten in between Joel and Tess.

However, he didn't laugh, didn't make any funny remark. The way he looked at you, from under his eyebrows, lit a spark of hope somewhere inside you. Deep, deeper than your conscious mind would have ever reached. Joel didn't say anything, not even chuckled. His eyes came back to the wound, and uncovered the full sight of it.

He had to fight a shocked gasp. His eyes fluttered, while holding his breath, between your own face and the wound. The bandage was still soaked in blood, that he had expected, but not the large bruise growing into your neck; or your right hand slightly paler than the other. He lifted, with trembling fingers, a corner of the bandage, and his action caused a trickle of dark blood to gush out, as if he had crushed a piece of watermelon between his fingers and it was now running down his arm. He looked below, inside his jacket, and saw a trail of blood that landed right into your navel.

This time, it was impossible for him not to react. Not only his face, but also his body. He tried to get back on his two feet again, but before he finished the action, your fist closed around his wrist.

"Joel..." he heard you call.

"We need to go, now."

Pressing your lips in a sad smile, you pulled him to the ground and he sat, mesmerised on that face he had only yet seen once; that time when he got too drunk on a Friday night and told you about Sarah at three in the morning. He felt his pulse quicken, his heart beating at the ends of his fingertips.

"It's okay," you told him. Your gentle touch brushed his palm, danced around over his tan skin. "You can rest."

Joel felt like he was in a fever dream. The setting certainly felt like it. You hadn't left the Boston QZ in a long while, and he had never pictured you out of those big silver walls either. He had not agreed to Tess' idea either, the dangers beyond the walls were almost impossible to escape. Still, Tess and him knew the city, they could get out fairly easily, had done that for a couple years to share stories over dinner with Bill and Frank. And Joel had loved the idea of seeing you sitting at that dinner table next to him, surrounded by a garden full of flowers, going through the dresses in the boutique that Tess had sworn you'd love.

He had not signed up for this.

"We need to go, please..." he tried a second time, but you just shook your head. He understood, somehow, what you meant.

"A minute won't make a difference," you told him. In reality, you wanted to tell him that you'd be dead when he got the both of you to Lincoln, anyway. "If you are tired we will never get there."

Useless and powerless as he felt, his only option was waiting. He took your hand, intertwined his fingers with yours and took a deep breath. You had never seen him so upset.

"What are you so scared of?"

At your words, his lower lip quivered slightly; it would almost have gone unnoticed if it wasn't because you had been watching him attentively for so many years. He looked at you, eyes barely half open, from under his eyelashes.

"You're very important to me," he said. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth, he seemed to be even more breathless than he was before. Joel had a hard time admitting his feelings, even to himself. "I don't know if you understand to what extent you're important to me."

"I know..." you answered, nodding, your hand squeezed his for a second, trying to give him strength. "But you have Tess home, and your brother loves you... It will hurt for a while..."

"Shut. Up."

His eyes were tightly shut when he said it. It was a metaphor, almost, the way his eyes were closed not just to the physical world, but to the whole situation too that he couldn't escape from.

The tip of your tongue wetted your lips.

"What I'm trying to say is... it will pass..."

His chest heaved, his gaps the only sound that filled the space between the two of you. And you continued:

"People die all the time, Joel; and most times we can't do anything about it."

His body rushed at you, his hands locked perfectly on both your cheeks, like two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle finally in place.

"Not you, you hear me? Not you," he almost growled, his face a mixture of anger, determination, and grief. "Never you. You're not allowed to leave me. I will never forgive you."

There was something hidden between the lines, something Joel wasn't saying. It was something you had denied yourself for a long time, for years, something you had insisted on not seeing because you didn't want to see it. Because, deep down, you were afraid that Joel would never love you back, that he would break your heart, that the only good man you'd ever known inside the walls of the Boston QZ would also be the one to abandon you to your luck.

Joel had been your family for so long, and you had unconsciously protected yourself from seeing him as something else. But now there it was, clearly, latent in his confession. Your punishment for years of silence was now time, or rather, the lack of it.

"I'm not giving up," he said. "and I need you not to give up either."

He's close. His hot breath smells sweet -so instinctively Joel- and it's all around your face. His flesh is warm over the freezing skin of your cheeks. His body around you is shelter, is home.

Joel is soon leaning in. He's all erratic breathing, rapid heartbeat and trembling hands; and as you close your eyes to allow his presence to swallow you like a black hole, he closes his eyes too.

He doesn't let go, not just yet. He breathes in into your quick breaths the same way you revel in his.

"I need an answer," he whispers over your mouth.

"I won't, either."

At first it's like a collision. He kisses you angrily for a split second, demanding and impatient; then, once he knows this is really happening, once he does understand that this is —finally— not a dream, he relaxes into your touch, your fingers delineating his jawline, caressing the beard there.

He's quick, quicker than you'd have expected him to be; definitely quicker then he would have liked. He separates, then; and looks down at his jacket and the drops of blood staining the insides of it. It's not enough blood to send you into shock again, but it means part of the wound is ripping. You need stitches, not just a couple of bandages.

"Enough resting then," he says.

[***]

Seven miles is usually nothing for Joel. In the first few months trading with Bill and Frank, Tess and him usually walked the fifteen miles that separated the city and the town at least twice a month. But this is all the more difficult, not just carrying you there, but knowing that he is running out of time.

And you seem hellbent on making the journey even more difficult.

"So...Tess?"

"Pass."

You huff, and the warm air sends a shiver down his spine; but he says nothing.

"Okay."

Your voice sounds so disappointed that he feels a pang of guilt. You know him better than to insist, and he knows that too. The guilt increases, though; and now he's inhaling a big gulp of air while still walking as fast as he possibly can without hurting his own knees.

"We fucked a few times, before," he says. "but that doesn't mean anything. She's my colleague. That's all."

If he was better with words, and feelings, he could say that he didn't feel anything for her. He could say that their hookups were nothing, just a fun thing they used to do before, before he realized that the one who he really wanted was you. A few months back he had realized that it never actually satisfied him, that those moments with Tess weren't as fun and innocent as they seemed to be before. They had talked about it, of course. He didn't want to play with her feelings, and that had been the end of it. She was just as fine without him, anyway.

"I thought you two were dating."

"If selling drugs for a living is what you call dating, then yes."

Without even looking at you, he knew you were smiling, he could almost feel your lips stretching over his shirt.

"I..." you said, then he heard you take another deep breath before talking again. "I'm sorry I asked you," another breath. "I... ran out of things to say."

His brow furrowed in confusion.

"You can say anything," he says. "Anything you really like, even a story."

Anything just to know you're there...

"Well..." you started. Then, a wheezing noise filled the air, followed by a gasp. "I... liked rock music-" silence. "...back in the day."

"You okay?"

Your fist tightened around his shoulder, your forehead pressing against his trapezius. He heard that wheezing sound again, followed by a pant. His hands squeezed harder the tender flesh under her knees.

Joel tried to look at her, but all he could see from his peripheral vision was the top of her head and one eye tightly closed. His throat turned into knots.

"Baby..." that was the most gentle tone you had ever heard coming from his mouth. "C'mon baby. Hold on, we're almost there."

His whole body felt paralyzed, and he had to force himself to keep walking.

What he didn't know was that your lungs were burning. They felt like a pair of balloons squeezing against your ribs, trying to expand beyond its cage. And it made all the pain in your back, from the shot, double as painful. The air you tried to swallow so bad, sounded like a whistle, like the breeze through an almost closed window. You were suffocating.

"Talk to me, c'mon."

With a painful drag of air, you complied.

"I can't..." your fist tightened around the fabric of his shirt. "I can't."

"Goddamnit..." he was panicking now. "Okay, that's okay baby. Just hold on to me, don't let go."

Unable to do anything else, you just nodded as best you could and kept on holding on to him. His eyes desperately looked for signs of the town, and far away, in the distance, the row of trees ended; and he walked faster, hoping that Bill had already seen the both of you through the cameras.

"J-Joel"

You struggled to find air, and, therefore, the words.

"Easy, easy" he said. "Just a bit more. You can do it, I know you can."

His words lingered in the air, unanswered, not even him fully believed them. Joel was starting to feel his own shirt wet with blood from your wound. The feeling made him sick, his own imagination as he pictured what Bill was watching through the cameras, made it all a hundred times worse.

He kept hearing the panting, the wheezing, becoming more desperate by the second. He realized, with horror, that you were suffocating righ there, on his back; from a collapsing lung, he guessed.

He shouted Bill's name as he saw the fence that separated them from the town. Joel wasn't sure if he could hear him, but tried anyway.

He felt your grip on his shirt hesitate, and he had to fight the instinct to squeeze your hand; if he had done it, you'd have fallen from his own grip. He heard you try and say his name.

"Save it," he responded, even if it came out not as reassuring as he would have liked. "Don't try to talk."

Before he reached the fence, it was already opening. Bill came out running, yelling something that he was too distracted to distinguish, Frank came behind him. Joel felt his knees wobble once through the gate. And now kneeling on the floor, he called your name, tried to turn his head to take a glimpse of you.

"You did it. We're here."

He noticed, then, that everything seemed all too silent. Everything that happened after that, happened very quickly. The hand that had been gripping his shirt slipped, limp over his shoulder.

His mind disconnected, completely unaware of the other two people approaching. He released you with all the care that a person could have had, and his arms immediately caught you in an embrace. The sight of your closed eyes made him panic, and not having even checked your pulse, he buried his face into your neck and sobbed.

Trails of blood ran through his forearms, and he threw up all the words that passed through his mind; a string of 'please stay' and 'I'm sorry'.

"Joel," Frank struggled with him, fingers digging into his shoulder. "Joel you have to let go. Let us help her."

He was too far gone, so much so that once your body hit the floor, Frank didn't allow him to touch you again. He sobbed, and, for a second, Bill saw himself in him. He would have never thought he would see Joel in this state, but yet there he was. He kept pressure on the wound, and saw himself in Joel, and Frank in you; and promised he would never let this happen to the two of them.

Never.

[***]

The sun comes out the next morning. As it always does, as it always has. Orange light and blue skies illuminate the room, the clouds shine a different color; and Joel blinks; absolutely exhausted, devastated.

His body is heavy, even if he's not holding any of his weight. He's sitting on the cold tiles, on the floor, his sore knees and thighs in the space under the bed, his head lying on the mattress, his whole body is bent over and it feels like jelly. His eyes are the only thing moving, they look at the window and see the night sky turn into daylight.

Joel couldn't possibly say that he slept in that position; because he didn't actually sleep. He hasn't had a second of sleep since you got shot two days ago. Lying on the bed, is you, dormant; and his thumb draws circles on the back of you hand even if he's not paying attention to it. It comforts him to a degree, at least.

Suddenly, pretty much everything has lost its meaning. Frank opens the door an hour later, almost tripping with the tray of food and water that he left the night before for Joel. He hasn't touched any of it. In fact, he forgot about it, but if it bothers him, Frank doesn't say anything. He takes it in his hands so he can take it to the kitchen downstairs.

"We played 'I will survive' in the radio" he whispers before leaving. "It's a 70s song, but Tess will get the meaning."

"Thank you," he mutters, his mouth pasty from barely speaking in the last twenty-four hours. Funnily enough, the only word he's said to them is 'thank you'.

"You're welcome, Joel," he says. After a few seconds, waiting, he makes a dissatisfied sound. Frank approaches Joel, his palm squeezing his shoulder. "You should eat something, at least. Is there anything you want?"

Joel looks at him, lifting his cheek from the mattress for the first time. His eyes are blood-shot and black circles adorn his eyes.

"Coffee."

"Not coffee, you need sleep."

He huffs, his eyes lost in the window again. Frank, knowing he won't get anything from him again, vanishes behind the door and into the kitchen. He will bring him warm food later, hoping the smell will make him eat something despite his unwillingness to listen to any signal of hunger from his own body.

A few moments later, your hand slips from his. As he loses your touch, a pang hits the pit of his stomach. But then, as he lifts from the mattress again, your fingertips lightly touch his chin, your thumb lovingly brushing his beard.

"Baby?"

Maybe he lost his sense of time, because he didn't expect you to wake up yet. In any case, when he sees your eyes open he practically pounces on the bed. He sits on the edge, and swallows the image of you looking at him.

"Morning."

He smiles at your words, feels his strength coming back into his body.

"You're here," he says.

Even beaten up as you look, he thinks you are gorgeous. Your face has regained its usual color, the bruising is coming down, changing colors little by little, the wound is stitched and bandaged, and the blood flow seems to reach your fingertips normally once again. Joel has no idea how Bill fixed the collapsing lung, he had said something about medical knowledge being necessary in the field too, but he hadn't paid attention. He doesn't care about the details, though. He just cares that you're safe and sound, and despite the close call, that has seemed to be the end result to this whole dilemma.

There's no blood in sight, not even in the bandages. Frank had washed the blood from your hair the day before, and Joel had helped with the rest. He wished he could have you like this everyday: happy, clean, safe...

In the last few hours Joel had discovered he was jealous. He wished he had a town like Lincoln all to himself, just so he could see you picking flowers in the front garden.

"I'm here," you told him. The words felt like strawberries in his mouth. "and I'm not giving up on you."

He released a breath he didn't know he was holding, leaned in for both your foreheads to meet, and kissed you.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfic #tlou spoilers #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x female reader #the last of us fanfic #pedro pascal x oc

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livlaughloveluke · 25 days

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underwater moments w/ Poseidon!reader x Luke

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗨𝗥𝗡 - 𝗟.𝗖

daughter of poseidon! reader x luke castellan 🪸

[headcannons]

summary: you’re dating the famous hermes boy 💘

warnings: no betrayal luke 🥳, percy is a lil bro, fem reader, not all of these are underwater moments

a/n- i’m back for now guys!!

sneaking out for starlit swims !!

you and luke spend your nights secretly swimming under the dark waters of camp half-blood, while the moon grazes the surface and turns the black depths glittery. you and him try to remain quiet, but how could you resist laughter when he almost accidentally drowned, twice?!

the famous underwater kisses <3

with little privacy at the kid-filled camp, you and luke rarely found moments alone. all you had time for were sneaky, quick kisses in between planned activities. as a child of poseidon, you found a way to solve this intimate problem—underwater kisses. creating an air bubble under the lake allowed for a moment with no curious glances—at least from most. (the fishies and a certain pesky brother often interrupt)

going pearl diving!

luke likes to sunbathe in the gleaming sun, resting on the docks while you splash around in the blue lake. you dive down deep, searching for the prettiest pearls underwater and placing him on the wood surface next to him. this could go on for hours, you entertained by the adventure and luke just happy to be in your presence. the next day, luke graciously gifted you a gorgeous necklace made with the pearls you excavated.

surfing and paddle boarding 🏄‍♀️

while the calm waters don’t offer many waves, every once in a while you like to manipulate the liquid so you can surf. not to mention, you love to instruct luke, too. he’s not the best, but he’s willing to give anything a try. (if we’re being honest, he hates it. he hates constantly falling off the board and sharply coming into contact with the water, but he’d do anything if it meant you were happy.)

in contrast, he loves to paddle board with you. it’s more gentle, and he can actually talk to you while in the water.

the olive theory! (but with cherries)

definitelyyyy the type of guy to pretend he doesn’t like cherries just because he knows you love them more. every morning at breakfast, he slides you his small fruit cup with only the cherries remaining, and you eat it up every time. unbeknownst to you, he’s only doing this to see you smile. he loves the way your lips curl up into a smile when you eat them, the juices staining your lips with a shade of red. he would give up anything to see you smile like that.

carrying a waterproof digital camera around 📸

he loves loves LOVES to take photos of you! whether your swimming in the lake or picking strawberries in the fields, he’s by your side with the camera directed towards you. he’s the number one candid picture taker! and when you ask why, he usually presents you with some dumb excuse or pickup line to conceal the fact that he’s totally whipped for you.

“ew, stoppp! i look so bad right now! why do you like taking so many photos anyway?”

“dunno. you’re the subject of all my dreams, sweetheart.”

late night beach bonfires

singing, laughing, and cuddling by the warmth of a campfire with all your friends is a weekly occurrence for you and luke. it feels like you’re both just normal teens, living life with no fear of monsters attacking or angry greek gods. plus, he makes BOMB s’mores.

CHAOTIC game nights with percy

attempting to play charades with your little brother, but overall he just gets mad and rage quits because you couldn’t guess the word. oh, and we can’t forget the craziest uno nights. you and percy arguing over the rules while luke just stands awkwardly in the corner.

“you can’t place a draw two on a draw four! it doesn’t work that way!”

“yes you can!! suck it up and draw your six cards!”

“uh, guys…? 🧍‍♂️”

the annual cabin decoration contest ! (yes, i made this up)

when that time rolls around, you and percy are DETERMINED to have the best cabin. you hang up seashells, scatter around the prettiest dried coral on shelves, and buy fairy lights for a cozy atmosphere. luke watches from afar as you and percy playfully argue whether a lana del rey poster would “fit the theme.” to be fair, it was a tunnel under OCEAN blvd poster.

[luke masterlist] ★ [request here] ★ [poseidon moodboard]

#luke castellan #luke castellan headcanons #luke castellan fluff #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan blurb #liv’s writing !#liv yaps

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y-rhywbeth2 · 4 months

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Bhaal talking to you in the journal updates is fun, but honestly nothing in BG3 has topped the one-sided conversations you get to have with this asshole in your dreams during the original games. It nicely illustrated how Bhaal thinks of his spawn and also gives you a good idea of how the Dark Urge's nightmares usually go. I feel like I'm missing things without having to listen to his ego every other night.

Look at this A+ parenting! (These moments have lived in my head rent free for at least a decade so I'm sharing them.)

"Such pride is undeserved, great predator, when your whole being is borrowed. Credit where it is due, and dues where payment is demanded."

"You will learn."

[stabs you with a knife]

[drowns you in blood]

[sets you on fire]

[disembowels you as the Slayer]

"...you will learn to trust me. Don't be afraid. You are safe here... if you behave."

"[My other child] clings to her old life as though it actually matters. She will learn."

"You will come to realize how little choice you have. You will do what you must, become what you must [...] You will accept the gifts offered to you."

"Fall to your knees! You can do no other!"

"What do I want? Your life, your soul, your body! I am the instinct that will fuel the father! I am the blood!"

"I lurk behind your soul, in the very fibre of your being. I am the only thing left when mind and reason are stripped away. I will show you what you can be, what you can do… if you simply let yourself become what you are. I can show you all of this, because I am within. I am what fills the void. I am you."

"You are to be given a gift. It is a valuable prize, one that you had better appreciate."

"You worry for your companions perhaps? Leave them, abandon them, and become what you must. There is great power in your heritage. Use it, and become closer to who you are… what you could be. Feel what is in the void. Use the tools that you are given. Become part of something greater. I am in you, and I know what is best. Each time you use it, each time you accept it, you move a little closer to the evil within. Perhaps you lose yourself in the end, but you will go to greater reward than you can know. After all, what does an eternity of nothingness matter, when you can [easily] destroy all that would oppose your development..."

This didn't work, so on his next attempt Bhaal did his best to ensure this kid would be tailored to obey and have no personality outside of being an extension of his will. Clearly his mistake was waiting until they were adults to start fucking them up, so - kill your family!

#Bhaal: “My children are literally me - STOP HAVING YOUR OWN PERSONALITY”#*stabbing his kids with a knife* “LEEEEAAAARN!!!”#bg2 spoilers #durge #the dark urge #dark urge #edgelord hours #the idiot three #babbling #long post

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povlnfour · 5 months

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I wanna see the beached! one 🤭

HAPPILYYYY i’ve had this in my mind for ages and i’m Finally writing it bc accidental fame is like my fav trope hehehe

from the wip game

ੈ✩‧₊˚ BEACHED! — OP81 WIP

pairing: oscar piastri x f!reader

summary: after oscar saves you from an embarrassing moment on the beach, you accidentally go viral

liked by danielricciardo, logansargeant and 98,002 others

yourusername shout out to australia, especially to the random dude in orange who saved my life from prematurely ending (note: waves in australia are brutal stay away if you can’t swim)

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yourbsf NO FR SHOUT OUT TO KING I WAS TOO BUSY LAUGJING AND TAKING PHOTOS

yourusername I NEARLY DIED Y/B/F

yourbsf i was too busy giggling! your dream boy and first time he’s seeing you is nearly drowning

friend1 Y/N DO YOU KNOW WHO THAT IS😭

yourusername an australian?

user IS THAT OSCAR???

user oscar in his mclaren shirt even on the beach

user WHAT IS GOING ON

user NOT ME SEEING OSCAR TODAY AFTER HE SAVED A RANDOM GIRL FROM DROWNING?!?!

yourusername who tf is oscar

oscarpiastri hi👋🏻 random dude in orange here

yourusername UM.

{full one shot here}

#… [gigi and : aquangxl]#oscar piastri wip #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri scenario #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader

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acircusfullofdemons · 1 year

Text

Fade into Insomnia 🤝 Don't Wake me Up 🤝 In All my Dreams I Drown: plots revolving around sleep, the sandman/sandman-like character plays a prominent role, boogeyman/boogeyman-like character is a villain, main character so detached from reality they get lost in their own dreams (literally), visiting a nightmare world/dimension, main character doesn't know what's happening for 90% of the plot

Basil 🤝 Alice: falling into a death-like coma, befriending & then dating said boogeyman character

Morpheus 🤝 Alice: gaining a newfound freedom/confidence thanks to their nightmares/dreams

Basil 🤝 Morphues: saving the dream world

#paraportal #luka.txt #console: phantasmagoria #game: fade into insomnia #console: life after death #game: dont wake me up #console: mad as a crow #game: in all my dreams i drown #basil agnusdei #alice rose #i like. plots revolving around sleep. yes the sandman by neil gaiman lives in my head rent free. what of it.#morphues o'lantern #cirque de la queue

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xrenjunniesx · 5 months

Text

when you accidentally ignore them

bf!nct dream

mark

you were talking to your friend on face time while doing your make up when mark walked in. you smiled at him through the mirror before going back to talking to your friend. you were giggling too much to hear mark say something. your friend noticed him though. she laughed at him, catching your attention.

mark was just awkwardly laughing, saying your name in between his breaths. “sorry, did you say something?” he approaches you this time and stands right behind you, looking at you through the mirror. “I just asked what you guys were talking about.” “oh! oh my god wait tell him the story!” you say to your friend on facetime.

 renjun

you and renjun went on a walk for a much needed mental break. you put your headphones in, wanting to drown out the world for a little bit. you thought he saw you do this, but perhaps he didn’t. he stopped walking about half way through your walk. you stop as well, turning your music off as you look back at him.

“why’d you ignore me?” “I can’t even hear you.” you say pulling one of your airpods out of your ear. he awkwardly smiles and begins walking again. “leave one ear out for me?” you giggle and agree, putting the extra airpod into the case.

jeno

you were so immersed in watching the newest episode of a show that regularly played on the television. it wasn’t even a show you enjoyed, but you were absolutely immersed in it. so immersed that you didn’t notice jeno getting home until he was stood right beside you. you almost screamed when you noticed his presence.

he smiled and dropped his things onto the couch beside you. “you didn’t hear me?” you shook your head and reached for the television remote, turning it down so you could actually hear things around you, instead of just the television. “what if someone broke in? you wouldn’t even have noticed.” he joked.

haechan

you were playing with a strangers dog that you walked past on a nightly walk by the beach. you had heard haechan and the owner talking a little bit, so when haechan spoke up again you automatically assumed he was talking to the owner again. It wasn’t until the owner didn’t reply and you felt an awfully heavy stare on your back that you looked up to haechan.

he was just staring at you, before repeating it again, “let’s go now?” as you both walk away you tell him that you didn’t hear what he said the first time. he scoffs and looks at you with a pout, “am I that easy for you to ignore?”

jaemin

you were watching a movie when you heard jaemin say something. all day, he had been talking to his three kittens, so you assumed he was just talking to them again since he wasn’t even in the same room as you. it wasn’t until he walked into the room and sat next you, looking at you with awaiting eyes. “what is it?” you ask, before realising maybe he was talking to you earlier.

“Oh I’m sorry, we’re you talking to me before? I thought you were talking to the cats.” he laughs and shakes his head, “ah yes, because the cats have a choice of where we are going tonight?”

chenle

you’re on you phone, watching some stupid reels that make you giggle to yourself. chenle calls out to you from the kitchen, “do you want me to cook dinner now?” when you don’t reply, he sighs and closes the fridge, walking down to the bedroom where the door was wide open. you didn’t even notice him there until he coughed.

“oh sorry chenle, what’s wrong?” “babe… you’re going deaf I fear.” “huh?” he just leaves the room saying he is going to start dinner now, hoping you at least heard him that time.

jisung

you were sitting on the couch, playing a game musical rhythm game when he sat down next to you. you heard him saying something, but because you had your headphones in your ears and you weren’t sure if he was even talking to you, you stayed quiet and ignored it. when the song finished, you finally heard what he was saying. “what do you think?” you looked at him only to find that he was looking at you.

“oh… ji… I didn’t hear anything you said.” you said taking the headphones out of your ears. he just blinks at you and closes his eyes, leaning his head back, muttering something about having to repeat everything, but he does it anyway.

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dilfl0v3rss · 10 months

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poly basketball player ony and aran

YES

having two very successful professional athletes as your boyfriends was a blessing and a curse. they were caring, smart, passionate about what they were doing, and gave you everything you could ever dream of having. there hasn’t been a day where you felt any less of the queen you already are and from the outside looking in, these men were calm and delicate when it came to you. always around to keep you safe and happy. you were as happy as can be with them, but every relationship has their issues. the main one in yours was their competitiveness.

“i won nigga get off the sticks and go wash the dishes” aran yelled, pointing to the kitchen where you were standing. you had told them an hour ago to wash the dishes and instead of just doing it, they decided to bet a game of 2k on it. the yelling and screaming coming from the living room irritated you so much that you washed them on your own to try to drown out the noise. as ony walked up to you, his tall figure already saw over your head that the dishes were done. a remorseful look on his face as he leaned down to give you a kiss on the cheek. “my fault mama, thank you” you rolled your eyes, ignoring him before walking towards your room.

this was a constant thing in your house whether it be who dressed better, who was smarter, who should get the bigger plate during breakfast, and the most common, who loved you more.

“i love her so much, i bought her a plane when her flight got delayed” ony smirked as he talked, his big hands rubbing on your back as you laid your stomach on his thighs, the rest of your body laying on aran’s lap. his big hands rubbing all over you ass while he replied. “that ain’t nun nigga. i love her so much, i bought her a house in every state so she don’t ever gotta worry about sleeping in a hotel when my matches are far away” ony rolled his eyes at his boyfriend, giving him a “duhh” look before replying. “how you think she be getting to the houses nigga? she takes the plane….dumbass” aran looked away, an embarrassed look on his face as he thought about what ony just said.

“well my dick is bigger nigga, now what?” the dark skin male laughed, his hand leaving your back to cop a feel of aran's manhood. he gave him a knowing look. “be furreal nigga y'know my shit bigger. that was cute tho” you rolled your eyes, sighing loudly as you got up from the both of them. “ohh my goddd do y'all ever just shut up?” you spit before walking away to your room. before you reached the door a small smirk graced your features as you came up with an idea to help them get along. “both of y'all dicks is little so ion even know why y'all arguing furreal”your words brought a mix of confusion and anger to both of their faces before ony and aran turned to look towards each other. silently communicating there next actions before getting up and making their way towards you. “we gon see about that”

your boyfriends argued almost everyday, using there bantering as a way to show their love for each other. you knew they'd never downplay each others love for you for real, always in the others defense in the media when different blogs would try to put them against each other. they always saved their arguing for when they were in private or in the comfort of their home and when at home there was only one way to shut them up.

“mhmm i know ma” aran mumbled as he listened to your pretty whines. his big hands outstretched on your ass while you made out with ony. all three of you sat on your knees as aran fucked you from behind and you stroked ony's dick in front go you with your pretty hand, your other hand on ony's his shoulder to keep yourself from falling over. “how she feel baby?”he moaned as he felt your hand tighten around him. aran matched his boyfriends moan with one of his own. “good...fuck...real good da” his dick twitched inside of your wet walls as he watched his the darkskin male tightly grip your neck before giving you a sloppy kiss. ony's eyes never left aran's as he let his tongue slide in and out of your wet mouth.

aran knew was ony was doing, purposely teasing him to bring him closer to his orgasm, but he had just the thing for that. his big brown hands gripped your hips before he started deepening his strokes, his pace increasing to get you to moan into ony's mouth just the way he loved. "aauughh fuck papa m'finna cum" you whined, your hand slowing to a stop on ony's dick as you felt your orgasm approaching. before you knew it, there was a hard slap brought to your ass by aran, his thrusts never faltering as he spoke. “don't stop touching him mama, daddy gotta cum too” a smirk grew on ony's face at the interaction, his dick twitching in delight at your obedience when you brought your hand back to him.

you were enjoying every minute of this. letting the men you love take control over your body and bring you to some of the best orgasms you'll ever received. ony squeezed your neck, pulling you from your thoughts as he brought his lips to your ear. “throw that shit back mama, make em feel real good so he can fill you up. you want papa to fill you up right?” you quickly nodded your head, listening to his command instantly. the feeling of your ass meeting his thrusts made aran moan, his release getting closer and closer as he felt your arousal begin to drip to the sheets. your walls fluttered repeatedly as you felt your orgasm begin to rush through you. "m'cummin oh my god m'cumminnn" your pretty cry brought ony to his orgasm as well, his dick pushing out thick streams of cum that rolled down his tip and onto your hand.

aran began to deepen his thrusts, using your release as lubricant to move quicker inside you. “fuck mama ima give you all this nut, hold still f'me” you tried your best to listen, stilling you body from shaking in overstimulation as you felt all of his inches move in and out of you. as aran fucked you, you watched ony make his way to his side, letting you fall to the bed before giving aran a sloppy kiss on the lips. his hand rubbed up and down aran's chest just the way he liked as he continued to let his tongue dance inside his mouth. in no time he was cumming, his thick load shooting into you had he slowed his thrusts. “thank you da” aran sighed as he caught his breath. ony gave him another slow kiss on the lips, his hand still on his chest as he spoke. “of course baby”

as they brought their attention to you, they noticed that you were already asleep. chuckles flew from both of them as they got off the bed to clean up. “where you goin?” aran asked as he watched ony begin to carry your towards the bathroom. “we finna take a bath while you clean the sheets” the brownskin man sucked his teeth before walking towards your sleeping form in his boyfriends arms. “you took a bath wit her last time, you said you was gon take a shower wit me this time after we bathe her together” ony rolled his eyes, before turning back around to go in the bathroom. “that was before you made me wash your dishes nigga” aran opened his mouth to argue but was cut off by your sleepy, annoyed voice. "if y'all don't shut up y'all gon be together on the couch" the two men looked at each other, silently communicating that they did't want to have to share a couch between their big tall bodies.

“my fault ma”

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arienotari · 4 months

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Drowning

Summary: When your worst fear becomes a reality and all you have on the other side is a brown eyed boy.

Pairing: Wally Clark x Reader

Warnings: Death, Drowning, Bullying

Edit: I am terrible at editing, and I tried my best so I'm sorry if you find any mistakes. This is my first full story I am releasing out into the world.

Word Count: 3330

I’ve never liked swimming.

People say it makes them feel free, but I felt anything but free. Every chance I got I avoided water at all costs. It's suffocating. Something about floating in a body of endless water and possibilities always made my skin crawl. One major problem that contributes to my fear is the fact that I can’t swim. I don’t blame anyone for this setback because I've never asked how to or showed interest. My inability to swim didn’t become a problem for me until my senior year of high school. I’ve gotten out of swimming class every year up until now and I had no choice but to take it. I tried to tell the swimming coach and counselors privately that I couldn’t take the class. All they said was I could stay in the shallow end. That I’ll be fine. I believed them.

Word spread quickly throughout my class that I couldn’t swim once they started noticing I wouldn’t leave the 4ft mark. I didn’t really care, all I cared about was getting through the year. I was never really popular which didn’t matter much to me but being in this class never made it more obvious how much I hated it here. I felt eyes on me at all times which only made being in the water worse.

It was March 12, 2015. Only a couple months left of school and then I’d be off to NYU living my dream of being a writer. First I had to get through 4th period swim class of course. I walked into the girls changing room preparing for the next 50 minutes of anxiety as I put my swimsuit on. I folded my dark blue jeans, my gray sweater, and a white tank top with lace on the trim that I wore under the sweater. Making my way to the pool I started putting my hair up in place of a hair cap I seem to have forgotten. Staring at the water I can see the bottom but it doesn’t stop the feeling of wanting to crawl up from my throat. Half the girls were already in the water preparing for a game of volleyball. Step by step down the ladder my hands begin to shake and my mouth becomes dry like I just ate pancakes. I make my way to the back to avoid any confrontation or any chance of being involved in the game. The one thing good about this class is it has a perfect view of the sky. I always get lost staring out at it wondering who’s also looking back. It makes me forget the situation I’m in and my environment. That's until a ball lands in front of me and about 15 girls are looking back at me waiting for my next move. I pick it up with my now calmer hands from before and spike it. Thankfully I made it over to the other side and the girls immediately turned back to the game. Not without some dirty looks but quite frankly I don’t really care. I watch as Mrs. Withers gets a call which seems to be serious as she tells us that she needs to step outside and when the bell rings to just go ahead. It’s only 10 minutes later when the shower bell rings and I feel the crushing weight lift off my shoulders. The other girls split based on which ladder they are closest to heading to the locker room and I help one of the girls get the volleyballs together. Making my way back to solid ground I rush to put the balls away not wanting to be one of the last to leave. I grab a towel on the rack near the other end of the pool as I make my way back seeing the last of everyone leaving. At least that’s what I thought until I heard someone behind me scream “Wait up” before running past me tripping me in the process. Losing my balance I watch as the one who screamed leaves the room leaving me alone. I hit the water with a loud splash waiting to hit the bottom to kick back up only to never feel my feet hit the concrete. I try to reach for the surface but everything I try seems to pull me down further. I panic, feeling my lungs on fire from filling with water. I tried to scream but no one could hear me and no one ever would. Everything was starting to go black and everything was becoming numb. All I could think about was how much I would miss out on. Finally, everything goes dark and I feel like I’m floating but I’m not, I’m being pulled up. I grab onto whoever’s pulling me up as if my life depended on it. Once I reach the surface my lungs fill with air as I begin to cough unbearably with my eyes screwed shut. I feel myself being hoisted up on the ground and out of the water. I’m pulled into the person who saved me as I am unable to move from exhaustion. When the person holds my face to center it I finally open my eyes as I am met with wide brown ones.

“Are you okay”, he’s breathing heavily as I study him blocking out his yell to someone to bring his jacket.

I feel a warm weight on my shoulders seeing its a blue and white letterman jacket out of the corner of my eye.

“Thank you for saving me” I give him a weak smile but all I get in return is an expression filled with nothing but sorrow and guilt.

Still seated on the floor I hear a horrified scream from beside me causing me to whip my head towards the chaos. Suddenly time stops and everything goes silent as I choked out a sob watching as a student and Mrs. Withers pull my body out of the water. The whole class comes to watch as they try to resuscitate me but nothing is happening. I feel the stranger push my head into his chest and I begin to cry harder than before. He repeats “I know’s” and “I’m sorry’s” as my world comes crashing down on me.

Hours later we are still in the same position my hair and clothes dry now along with a tear-dried face. It’s dark outside with only the poolside fluorescent lights to illuminate our two figures. I begin to shiver more and more as the stranger who pulled me out of the water rubs my back and arms.

“We need to get up, you're getting too cold” he whispers, pulling his body to get a better look at me.

I lift myself up getting a better look at him as well as I memorize his long structured face, beauty marks, and brown eyes. After a minute I nod and try to stand up realizing that I’m still exhausted, the position not helping adding to the pain. He helps me steady myself and fully extend as he holds my hands making sure I’m okay.

“You should take a shower and change into your regular clothes, I’ll probably do the same and I will explain everything once we're done. Okay?”, he says softly with an uneasy half-smile waiting for my response.

“Okay,” I whisper back at him not wanting to raise my voice feeling it’ll be too much to handle.

His smile fills out more as he nods and begins to turn away to do the same tasks as me. I begin to turn away as well before I realize I never got the guy's name who pulled me out of the pool and stayed with me for hours.

“What’s your name?,” I said, grabbing his arm to stop him from walking away.

He looks down at my hand holding his arm which makes me see I’m still holding onto him causing me to let go.

“Wally, Wally Clark”, he said with a wide smile that made me feel alive again for just a split second.

After warming up from the shower I changed into my clothes from before that were neatly folded. As I begin to walk out of the locker room I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I look back at the girl staring at me feeling disconnected from who she was or what she could’ve been. I take a heavy breath before opening the door to leave and face the reality of my situation. Stepping into the hall, the school looked unnatural to me with the lights off. I look over and see a less wet and cold Wally approach me with the same smile as before.

“How was the shower? Do you feel better?”, he asked one right after the other.

“The shower was good and I’m doing the best I can with the fact that I am already dead,” I said, peering up at him only noticing now how tall he really is.

“I know it's hard and I’m sorry it happened this way but I will try to explain everything the best I can.”, he said, extending his elbow out for me to take it as we began to walk further down the halls.

And Just like he said Wally kept his word and explained everything to me that he could. Like how we’ll never be able to leave school grounds unless we pass on. He also showed me all the other kids stuck here just like us and told me how some passed. As well as the weird support group that the kids attend in the gym. Even though he’d joke he never sugar-coated anything, which I couldn't help but appreciate. I won’t lie, the first couple of weeks were rough. I was plagued by the memory of what happened as well as the thoughts of the future I’ll never get. It definitely didn’t help that everyone at school was mentioning it and not in a sorrowful way. During those few weeks, Wally helped a lot with trying to be a distraction so I wouldn’t focus on others. I guess one of the perks of being dead is being able to duplicate belongings so I was able to get my phone and journal. I found the perfect spot on the football field to just listen to music and lie down. I’d close my eyes and imagine what life could’ve been but I knew I couldn’t do that forever, so I started to write more. It was easier to put my wishes and fantasies on pages without having to dwell on them. I usually kept my writing to myself so around 7:30 every day I’d go to my little bubble of solitude on the field and write. It was May now so the sun would start to set around 8 giving me enough light and a view.

“What are you writing?'' I suddenly hear Wally's voice right next to my ear.

“Jesus Christ Wally you scared me to death”, I said, jumping in reaction to the sudden deep voice, placing my hand on my heart and dropping my journal.

“I mean it's a little too late for that someone must’ve beat me to it.”, he said smiling at me as he sat down next to me grabbing my journal to open it.

I glare at him and snatch my journal back.

“What too soon?”, he said with a stupid grin trying to get my journal back.

“Just a little,” I said, scrunching my nose.

“No but seriously what are you writing? You come out here every day and write in that little journal.” He said leaning back on his arms a bit more to get my full face into view.

I try to hide the blush that has crept up on my face when I realize that he’s been watching me come out here. After a moment I brush my hair out of my face and am met with those famous brown eyes. I take a deep breath before explaining to him my reasons.

“I don’t want to stay stuck in the living because all it’ll do is bring harm. All I thought about for the past couple of months was what I’ll miss but I never stopped and processed my death. I’ve been hurting for all the things I couldn’t change and it caused me to push anything away, even you. So I thought why not write my wishes and wants down so they don’t stay on my mind. At least this way I can close the journal.” I said with a tiny smile looking up at him as he was staring back intently listening.

“Before I died I wanted to be a writer and I had my whole life planned out, I was going to attend—“

“NYU, I know,” he said, finishing my sentence before I could.

I watch as Wally sits up straighter and scooches closer to me before tilting his head. I can tell he’s trying to figure out what to say because he’s fidgeting with his necklace. I wait for him because there’s no point in rushing, I have all the time in the world.

“I’ve been watching you for a long time,” he says with a breath held in waiting for my response.

One of my eyebrows lifts as I tilt my head in response to the slightly weird statement.

“Oh god, that came out creepier than I meant it to. What I meant to say was even when you were alive I knew who you were.” He said laying back fully down in the grass.

I watched as he covered his eyes with his hands with a frustrated grunt like he was trying to revert into a hole.

“What do you mean?”, I said moving towards his laid position to where I’m now bent over leaning towards him leaving my crisscross position to now on my knees.

I grab his hands that are covering his eyes and pull them down to his chest as I hold them to keep him from covering his eyes again. How he’s looking at me I can tell he’s debating with himself. I wait and listen before I watch as he closes his eyes.

“The first time I saw you was during your freshman year in the library. I was looking for something to watch for group movie night. I had Rhonda yelling at me in one ear and Charlie telling me something in the other. I was getting a little annoyed but then I looked between the bookshelves and there you were.” He takes a pause to look at me and I squeeze his hand in return to continue.

“You were tucked into the corner where the bookshelves meet, where no one could see you. In your hands was The Devil’s Highway by Luis Alberto Urrea. I watched as you cried the further you got into the book. After that day I came back to the library every day to see you. I even started picking up some of the books you read, but I couldn't finish half of them though.” He said with a small smile on his face and in his voice.

He sat up which caused him to become closer to me while he took my hands instead of me holding his. He was looking at the grass for a minute while rubbing his thumbs over my knuckles. When he looked up I could see that he was tearing up making my heart ache.

“I knew you had anxiety when it came to swim class because you couldn’t swim so I’d go to try and help. Even though you couldn’t see or feel me, I was always there.” He said lifting his hand up to tuck a loose strand of my hair that fell.

His hand stayed in place as he cupped my cheek and I went to ask why he was tearing up because of this before he spoke.

“I watched you die. I was there and I couldn’t do anything until it was too late, that’s why I was there. I had to watch you struggle knowing I couldn’t grab you or even scream for help.” He said with his voice croaking with the struggle of what he’s had to go through.

My eyebrows furrowed as I watched the walls I built up crumble down with one look at him. I never knew he’d been holding in something like this for so long. If I had known I would’ve never tried to shut him out. I was scared of what had happened and how my life had ended but I never thought about him. He was always there and whenever I needed help he was right by my side. I moved from my position pulling him into a soul-crushing hug. It took him a second to respond to the sudden gesture but after a couple seconds, I felt his arms wrap around me.

“Wally my death wasn’t your fault, I need you to know that.”, I softly spoke while hugging him harder, feeling him return it.

We continued hugging for what felt like years but could never be enough for me to be satisfied. One of my arms is coming up from under his arm grappling his shoulder while the other is around his waist. His arms are wrapped around my waist and I can feel his hands rubbing small circles on my back. Looking up from being tucked away in his shoulder I notice the sun is beginning to set. I begin to pull away and when I make eye contact with him again he’s only a mere few inches away from my face. I raise my hand to brush his hair away from his face as it has flattened from the hug. My hand slips down as it trails from the side of his head to where it now rests on his neck. He’s staring at me the whole time while I do this and when I look up to meet his eyes my heart quickens. Well, I imagined it quickened. There’s something about those brown eyes I’ve grown fond of that makes me feel alive again. His eyes flash down to my lips and back up to my eyes like he’s silently pleading. I give into his wants that now become a need for me and all I can do is nod. His hand comes up to my face pulling me towards him as our lips meet. The kiss felt like everything in my little life led up to this moment. Nothing else seemed to matter to me but the boy in front of me right now who just confessed that he’d been watching me for years. Wally’s the one to pull away first. I slowly opened my eyes to look at him wanting to capture this moment forever. He tucks a loose strand of hair behind my ear before cupping my cheek and giving me a quick peck. I can’t restrain my gleaming smile as he pulls away for the second time.

“Well I’m glad we got that cleared up”, he laughed as he spoke.

I glared at him while punching him in the arm causing him to fall back but not before dragging me down with him. I land on his chest relaxing in his touch like it’s something I've been craving but have been deprived of. We lay in comfortable silence as I felt Wally rub circles with his thumb on my hip.

“I’m glad it was you who found me. I don't know what I would’ve done” I said, being the first one to disturb the still air.

“I am too,” Wally said into my hair as he kissed the top of my head.

We lay there all night even when the stadium lights came on we just talked about everything and anything. Maybe the afterlife won’t completely suck.

#fanfic #wally clark #wally clark x reader #school spirits #television #x yn #Wally Clark fluff #milo manheim #wally clark imagines

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