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bumblesimagines · 7 months

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Midnight Beach

Part 17

Request: Yes or No

~~~

It'd been steady, smooth sailing back to Kildare with only a few stops along the way to restock food and fuel. Things on the yacht had been calm, with minimal tension between the group. JJ and Kiara kept their distance from each other, too preoccupied with Pope's feelings to catch the lingering looks and glances they sent each other or the way Cleo and Pope laughed together with smiles too big to be just friendly. And (Y/N) made do with keeping Sarah at arm's length. Until the third day on the yacht when they saw land and houses in the distance.

And there it was. The Outer Banks. Home.

A heavy weight lifted off his shoulders and chest, rising and blowing away with the wind. He exhaled and watched the familiar houses roll into better view, tall and reaching up toward the sky. (Y/N) pressed his lips tightly together, spotting his home and feeling an odd sense of relief. He'd hated it once, in all its empty glory. But it now beckoned him forth with comfort and familiarity. Pope steered the yacht until it came to a slow, smooth stop by his dock and he turned to (Y/N).

"We'll meet up later," Pope told him, clapping his shoulder and smiling weakly. (Y/N) nodded and made his way out of the helm, breezing down the stairs and into Kiara's awaiting arms. She squeezed his shoulders and stepped aside for the others to embrace him and whisper their goodbyes. Sarah's embrace lingered, a sadness clinging to it until she stepped back and made way for him to climb off the boat and make his way up his backyard. He paused as the sliding door slid open and a mop of red hair stepped out.

"Liv?" A startled laugh escaped him. His friend stared at him with wide eyes and her phone fell to the ground with a clatter, long legs suddenly breaking out into a sprint toward him. A flurry of 'oh my god's and 'what the fuck's left her lips as her body collided with his and brought him down into the freshly cut grass. His arms tightened around her and his eyes flooded with unexpected tears. He was safe, he finally realized. Safe and at home.

"Where the hell have you been?!" Liv sat upright with a dropped jaw, glancing up toward the yacht as it continued down the water toward the Carrea's house. (Y/N) laughed, a relieved and airy laugh, and pushed himself up into a sitting position. Liv leaned back against his thighs and folded her arms over her chest, red curls bouncing around as she shook her head in disbelief. "You've been missing for a month and you're laughing? Do you know how worried we've been? I almost had a breakdown when I heard the news, you dick! How can you just drop by like this? I mean, what the fu-"

"What do you mean we?" (Y/N) chuckled, sniffling lightly and wiping the tears from his cheeks. "Is Topper here too?"

"No, I mean…" Liv pursed her lips and stood up, using one hand to wipe at her dirt and grass-covered legs and the other to help him back onto his feet. She swiped her tongue over her lips nervously, slipping her arm around his and dragging him back to the doors. The AC cooled his warm skin immediately and he almost groaned in relief at the feeling, head tilting back and letting the cool air run over his muck and sweat-covered skin.

"I missed this." He sighed and gazed forward again, seeing that nothing had really changed in the house. The furniture arrangement remained the same, despite Liv's desire to makeover every room possible. Part of her desire to become an interior designer, she'd claimed when he'd questioned her the fourth time she moved things around in his bedroom. His eyes caught new shoes by the front door down the hall and his brows furrowed. Liv took him to the kitchen and cleared her throat, gaining the attention of the person rummaging through the fridge. They stood upright and shut the fridge door, turning to face them with bottled water in hand. His breath hitched.

"Mom?" Everything felt like a dream, a hazy and unbelievable dream. His mother stood by the fridge, and she was actually there. In the flesh. Living and breathing and not just some figment of his imagination. She looked different, she felt different, but all he knew was that she was his mother and she was finally home. All of a sudden he was thirteen again, back in middle school and watching his mom create breakfast while paying little to no mind to him. Even then, even with the little care, he still smiled and asked how she slept. The years had passed slowly and agonizingly, and as hurt and bitter as he felt, his eyes flooded with tears. "Mom…"

"Oh, (Y/N)…" She breathed and set the bottle aside, gliding across the room and enveloping him in her arms. She still smelled the same, but her warm touch nearly knocked the air out of his lungs. His arms carefully and hesitantly wrapped around her, afraid that if he moved too quickly or too roughly the illusion would shatter and she'd disappear. Rachel's hand cupped the back of his head tenderly and he buried his face in the crook of her neck. This was safety. This was home.

"We… We should call Shoupe, right?" Liv piped up beside them, clumsily patting the pockets of her shorts in search of her phone only to remember she'd dropped it moments prior. Cursing softly under her breath, she hurried out of the kitchen to pick up her phone and dial the sheriff's number.

"Where have you been? Your father and I were worried sick. He's out right now trying to talk to Shoupe." Rachel asked softly as she pulled back and cupped her son's face, tears pooled in her tired eyes. "They- They said Topper Thornton reported you missing and- and that Mr. Sumner had last seen you with some boys in front of the Cameron house? What happened? Where were you?"

"I… It's a really long story, Mom." (Y/N) sniffled and as he uttered those words, he felt his muscles grow sore. The tension, anticipation, and paranoia slipped away from his body at last, leaving him to bear the consequences of the hectic and chaotic month he'd faced on and off Poguelandia. Liv appeared in the archway of the kitchen again and tapped on her phone.

"Shoupe said he just got off a call with Mr. Carrea about his daughter being back and said a call was going in from Heyward," Liv told them and slipped her phone in her back pocket. "He says he's gonna drop by to ask some questions."

(Y/N) sighed. Would he have to lie? Tell the truth? Explain to a no-doubt confused Shoupe that the Royal Merchant gold existed and that they'd been running around like chickens with their heads cut off in search of the Santo Domingo cross? Did it even matter whether he lied or not? The gold, the cross, and the Camerons were gone, and they'd likely never see or hear about them again. But, even if the Pogues didn't wish to hear it, perhaps that was a good thing.

It was amazing how many mundane things he missed doing. He took a proper shower with soap for the first time in a month, and it felt heavenly to feel the spray of warm water on his tense skin. He finally scrubbed away the ocean from his skin and rinsed away the dirt, sand, and sweat that had accumulated over the days and weeks. He used a warm, just-out-of-the-dryer towel to dry himself and put on fresh clothes that didn't reek of anything other than detergent. When he collapsed on his cozy bed, he wondered how in the world he'd ever been able to sleep on leaf-made cots.

"Now, run it back to me again." Liv's voice flowed from the doorway and he rolled over onto his back with a grin. She strode into the room and flopped down on the bed beside him, freeing her hair from a ponytail and letting it flow over the comforter. "You lived on an island for a month with a bunch of Pogues and your ex-girlfriend? All because Mr. Cameron, King of Kildare, and his son went crazy over a lost treasure?"

"Don't forget being chased around Barbados by a power-wielding asshole and his army."

"What the hell, (Y/N)! You're supposed to be prepping for college not going on a Uncharted type of adventure! Like, damn, what are you? Indiana Jones?" Liv propped up her elbow and rested her head on the palm of her hand, staring down at him with raised brows. Hearing it from a bystander made it all sound like some wild, crazy dream only the wildest of imaginations could conjure up. Yet, there he was, evidence of what happened when teenagers got in a little over their heads. His eyes turned to gaze up at the ceiling and he sighed heavily. No more gold, or cross, or Camerons. No more adventures. Finally, some rest and peace.

"That's all over now, Liv."

"Good. 'Cause lookie here who has been waiting for you to get home." Her sing-song voice made his head turn and dangling from her finger were his precious keys to his jeep. He shot up with a pleased laugh and snatched the keys from her, scrambling up from the bed to approach the window and peer out into the driveway. There it was. His baby waiting for him. His heart swelled with so many emotions. And a lot of hope for a way back to normalcy.

And then he spotted an upset Sarah Cameron making her way up his driveway with fresh clothes and a bag slung over her shoulder.

"Shit, uh… I'll be back, Liv." (Y/N) stuffed his keys into his pocket and stepped away from the window, making his way out of his bedroom. Liv followed him -an unsurprising thing considering her inability to follow simple instructions- and they headed down the stairs, beating his parents to the front door when Sarah knocked. He waved them off and slipped out the door, only rolling his eyes at Liv and closing the door behind him.

"Liv, hey! I- I wasn't expecting to see you here. I thought you were off in New York." Sarah smiled nervously at the girl, averting her eyes when Liv glared at her. For someone who had encouraged the relationship to begin with, she certainly looked at Sarah with enough animosity to kill someone. Sarah lightly scraped the ground with the bottom of her converse and cleared her throat, eyes flickering back up to his face.

"Could you… Could you wait inside?" (Y/N) sighed, rubbing the back of his neck and giving Liv a pleading look. She huffed quietly and nodded, pushing the door open with her shoulder and stepping inside before letting the door slam behind her for good measure. Sarah nipped at her bottom lip and took him by the elbow, leading him further away from the front door and stepping closer.

"Rafe's at Tannyhill."

His stomach dropped and every hair on his body stood erect. "What?" He couldn't even register the word as it slipped past his lips, the tension he'd gotten rid of returning and impacting him like a truck. Sarah wordlessly nodded and let out a soft, almost defeated sigh before casting a glance over her shoulder in the direction of Tannyhill.

"There's more." Goddamnit. "I think he and Ward are planning on bringing back the cross to Wilmington tomorrow night."

✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽ ✽

It'd taken a lot of convincing to get Liv to stay home and not tag along with him on his trip to John B's place. Part of him had wanted to stay home, to hand over his temporary Pogue card and return to life as a Kook. But Pope had been so passionate and so devastated over the cross, over his family's forgotten and stolen legacy that he couldn't bear thinking about turning his back on him when the chance of getting back a family treasure stood so close.

So, there he was, standing in a rundown shed at the Chateau with the others minus John B and his father, who he had indeed found. With everyone gathered and eager to listen, Sarah sat down and took in a deep breath. "When I went back to Tannyhill, Rafe was on the phone with Ward, and he just kept saying "my thing, this is my thing." He had to be talking about the cross. And he's coming into Wilmington tonight at eight o'clock. It's being shipped by train to Raleigh from there, but this- this is our chance to get it back."

"We got any more information?" Pope asked, the determination in his eyes despite the circumstances making (Y/N) wish he'd stay home and continue listening to Liv's stories of life in New York. Different from Outer Banks, she'd said. Dirtier, rowdier, nosier, but different from home. (Y/N) wondered what it'd be like to finally put his long-awaited plan into action. To finish school and leave North Carolina for good, forever. To book a plane ticket out and forget the pitiful stares, the Kooks who believed themselves to be mightier than everyone, and the Pogues who'd turned his life upside down. Guilt gripped his heart abruptly, squeezing with intensity. They'd all gone through so much together. They trusted him, they cared for him, or at least that's what he believed. But maybe if he were to disappear, they'd carry life on as normal.

"We've got a cargo number." His eyes lifted from the ground at Kiara's answer and she held up the paper for them all to see. Scribbled in Sarah's handwriting. Messy from how quickly and frantically she'd written it so it wouldn't slip her mind. His lips quirked slightly.

"They're definitely fencing that shit off as we speak. So, we should probably get a move on." JJ piped, looking more tense than usual. He avoided looking at Kiara for long as if afraid Pope would notice, as if afraid Pope would hate him for it. Kiara certainly didn't share his fear. She watched him, a mix of hurt and acceptance in her dark eyes. Her friendship with Pope had grown strained ever since their short-lived relationship ended on such a sour note. "Have you gotten in touch with John B?"

"No," Sarah sighed. "I mean, he's probably off somewhere with his dad. But the problem is: they have the Twinkie. It's our only transportation. (Y/N)'s jeep is fast but there'd be nowhere to put the cross." He had no idea his jeep had even been considered. It'd been built to get its driver through rough terrain, not carry a historical artifact that likely weighed more than it.

"I could ask Heyward for the truck." Pope proposed with sagged shoulders. "We've got no other option."

And with that in mind, they piled into (Y/N)'s jeep while JJ rode his dirt bike and drove off to Heyward's Seafood where they waited for Pope to convince his notoriously stubborn father to let him go to Wilmington and take the truck. However, most of them knew he'd only be able to manage one of those things. (Y/N) watched the patio, listening to the distant conversation Pope and his father had as Pope pleaded his case. His eyes drifted to the blonde sitting in the passenger seat and he noted how lighter and softer her hair appeared. Her natural dark brown roots had grown out considerably, weaving perfectly with the blonde. Sarah turned her head, almost as if sensing his gaze, and smiled at him, lips shining from a freshly applied layer of chapstick. Pope and Cleo left the patio and he looked away from her as they popped the door open and climbed inside.

"He's letting me go to Wilmington, but no truck though."

"Listen, maybe I'll be able to convince my parents to both let me go and use their car." Kiara offered weakly, the pitiful glances sent her way doing little to boost her confidence.

So, they set off to the Carrera household and surprisingly, JJ got off his dirtbike and followed her up the stairs, shouting something back about 'moral support', just as Cleo had done with Pope. It only took a couple of minutes for JJ to leave the house and Kiara to follow, looking rather apologetic about whatever had shortly gone down. He simply shook his head at them and got on his dirtbike, a dejected look on his face as the bike rumbled to life underneath him. Kiara sighed heavily and climbed into the jeep.

"Mom is letting me go but I didn't want to push after what happened last time we… 'borrowed' the truck," Kiara explained, buckling herself in and giving them an equally apologetic frown. Her eyes drifted toward the waiting blonde and the rapid bouncing of his leg only told (Y/N) he'd likely gotten into an argument of sorts with the Carrera's.

Pope sucked his teeth and ran a hand over his face, taking in a deep calming breath before he spoke. "I'm sure we'll figure something out by the time we get to Wilmington. We're just running out of time here."

They drove to the ferry port where they parked and managed to get tickets for the ferry heading to Wilmington. They found a spot to sit and ordered some drinks, the smell of sea salt and the sound of chatter surrounding them from all sides. JJ pulled up a chair and propped his leg up on it, taking a glance around at the occupied people around them before leaning in. "Alright, so, the hardest part is gonna be security. Most of the guys are going to be at the rail yard."

"We'll need to find someplace and guard it, maybe a little further down the line, like a whistle-stop-"

"Pope, you say that as if we can carry that cross easy-peasy. The most we'd be able to lift it is like an inch or two off the ground tops and we have no way of getting it back home. That shit weighs more than my jeep and us combined. We need something that was built to carry heavy equipment." And there'd be no way in hell he'd ever let them try putting a gold cross on his jeep.

"Oh, my god," Sarah whispered, sitting up and covering the side of her face with her hand.

"What?" Cleo blinked at her and Sarah swallowed, motioning toward the bar with her thumb. (Y/N) craned his neck to look around Kiara and grunted softly at the sight of Topper Thornton. And then, he remembered, just as Pope's eyes lit up with a new idea. Topper just so happened to be in possession of a big, strong silver ram truck. Perfect for transporting something heavy, like say, the cross. A large smirk spread across Pope's face and he turned to look at (Y/N) and Sarah expectantly. Sarah frowned.

"No."

"Yes."

"No, absolutely not."

"Sarah, c'mon. He's been crushing on you highkey and he sees (Y/N) as his best friend. If you two go over there and sweet talk your way into borrowing the truck, we'll be good to go. If John B finds out, we'll handle him. Take one for the team, please?" Pope leaned forward and mustered his best puppy eyes for them, lips formed into a pout and everything. Kiara giggled quietly under her breath and nodded encouragingly.

"Fine, whatever." (Y/N) sighed and stood up, pushing his chair in and tapping Sarah's shoulder. She groaned but stood as well, crossing her arms over her chest and begrudgingly following him through the sea of people until they reached their old friend. Topper glanced over his shoulder at them and then did a double take, his eyes nearly bulging out of his sockets. His jaw dropped and he spun around, arms extending and body colliding with them hard enough to make them stumble back.

"Hey, Top." Sarah greeted awkwardly, lightly patting his back.

"Holy shit, I-I knew you guys were on the island. I saw the news this morning about it." Topper leaned back, the glow of the setting sun in the distance casting over them. His eyes filled with unshed tears that he quickly wiped away, chuckling softly under his breath and taking a deep breath in. "I-I thought you guys were dead. A-Are you guys okay? How are you?"

"It's.. uh… things are weird, right now. We, uhm… just trying to get back to how things were and- and there have been some obstacles." It felt odd to speak with Topper so forcibly, as if the last time he'd seen them they hadn't been on good terms. Topper had been there for him, even after their disagreements and fights. He'd been there when the Pogues and Sarah hadn't.

"Oh? What kind of obstacles?" Topper's brows knitted with worry, and (Y/N) debated backing off. Surely, there'd be rentals in Wilmington with trucks they could rent and use.

"We've been after this…" Sarah trailed off, her eyes catching sight of the group huddled together. JJ motioned with his arms for them to speed things up, to get what they needed from the oblivious Topper. (Y/N) wondered if he would've been in his position had he not joined the Pogues. He was a Kook and always would be, even when JJ slapped the title of 'Honorary Pogue' on him. "This, uh, family heirloom of Pope's, which is why we were gone. We ended up losing it, and unbelievably there might be a chance that, uhm, we could get it back tonight. In Wilmington."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Topper asked almost immediately and (Y/N) felt his heart sink.

"That's not necessary, Topper." (Y/N) replied quickly, feeling Sarah's hip graze against his. He saw her glance at him curiously from the corner of his eye, her brows knitting in question for a second before she nodded along, pretending to agree with his words. Topper shook his head dismissively.

"No, seriously, guys. I want to help." Part of him missed the selfish, arrogant Topper who bulldozed into everything headfirst without thought for anyone else. But he'd softened up since their friendship bloomed. And (Y/N) couldn't hate him for that, not when he had made the younger teen believe he was dead and rotting in the ocean somewhere.

"Topper, I feel like if we ask you… it's just, you're such a giver. I don't want to put this burden on you 'cause you're just so kind to us." Sarah's voice took on a higher pitch that flew right over Topper's head. Her voice held fake genuineness, the same tone she'd used during Midsummer when she tried brushing off (Y/N)'s concerns and then dumped him. His jaw clenched and he took a breath, forcing himself to relax.

"Look, it's just the way I was raised. You guys… you are my best friends. I would do anything for both of you. I mean that. Unlike some people who will just say anything to get you to go along with whatever they want. I'm not that person, okay? When I say something I mean it."

"We need your truck." The syrupy sweet voice she'd taken on to speak with him vanished and Topper blinked rapidly. It was astonishing how easy it was for her to switch on others, to switch on a friend she'd known practically her whole life for a group of people she'd only known for a couple of months. It made (Y/N) feel dirty, and wrong for standing by while she used Topper's genuine kindness for her own gain. The Pogues would drop Topper the moment he became useless. The bad blood between him and them was far too great, even if he helped them. "The four-wheeler, I mean."

"M-My dad's truck? I mean, he would literally kill me. He's, like… super anal about it." Topper winced.

"So are we! We're super anal too. And (Y/N) will make sure we treat it as if it were his jeep."

"Or…" (Y/N) began and he slipped his arm around Topper's shoulder, smiling at him. Kooks had to look out for Kooks. "You come with us, Top. Then, you won't have to worry about us damaging it or anything. Besides, we could use an extra pair of hands if push comes to shove. How does that sound?"

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pedrito-friskito · 11 months

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strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part twenty-seven

series masterlist | main masterlist | read on ao3

you reach Kansas City, things don’t go exactly as planned.

a/n: remember when I said this was gonna be up what a week ago? MY BAD. love you all🤍

word count: 8.6k

warnings: if you’ve been reading this far, you know the drill. a good chunk of violence in this one.

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

Ellie wakes to a strange rattling noise. It sounds almost liquidy, but metallic at the same time, but definitely fucking annoying.

With a quiet groan, she pokes her head out of the sleeping bag, finding the source of the noise. There’s some kind of container on the camping stove, like a taller version of the pot she’d watched you warm the ravioli up in last night, but more narrow, the handle attached at two ends instead of one.

The sun’s up, the ground beneath her isn’t as hard as she anticipated, and slowly, she rolls onto her knees, still encased in the sleeping bag as she shuffles forward to inspect the thing on the stove. The lid looks like plastic, and she can see the liquid inside, dark brown and sputtering as she flips the lid.

The smell hits her like a damn truck, and she groans loudly. “Ugh! What the fuck is that?”

She hears your instant laughter, turning to see both you and Joel standing at the back of the truck, packing things back up. You have the rifle slung across your back, and Joel lifts his brows at Ellie. “You don’t like coffee?”

She makes a face in response, rolling back over and flopping onto her back, and you appear a moment later, backlit by the cloudy sun, hands on your hips. “Up and at ‘em, kid. We need to get a move on.”

Once all the packing is done, you and Joel start to bicker about who’s driving first. Joel keeps insisting that he take the first shift, and you keep reminding him that you took the first watch, so you drive first. Ellie doesn’t miss the way his jaw goes tight when your voice drops and you say something he can’t make out, but then he shoves the thermos of coffee at you, stalking towards the trucks and climbing into the backseat. Your eyes follow him, but then shoot back to Ellie, who nearly flinches, reaching for her bag. “Let’s go.”

It takes Joel all of five minutes to pass out in the backseat, and you shake your head, glancing at him over your shoulder as you pull back onto the highway, the truck wobbling slightly as it goes from grass to asphalt.

“Stubborn as fuck, I tell you.”

Ellie settles deeper into her seat. You leave the radio off to let Joel sleep, and when you reach for the thermos, Ellie keeps her voice low. “Is that seriously what those Starbucks in the QZ used to sell?”

“Hah, they had better stuff than this. Bill had a stockpile, but none of it was as fresh as theirs.”

She wrinkles her nose. “It smells like burnt shit.”

You huff a little laugh. “Used to be able to get it with all kinds of stuff, caramel, cinnamon, hazelnut. Smelled like a damn dream.” You jut your chin towards the little door in front of Ellie’s legs. “Open that, yeah? Get the map out. I think I know where I’m going, but the last thing we need is to get lost.”

“Wouldn’t want that,” Ellie agrees, and reaches for the handle. The door drops open when she pulls on it, and fishes the maps out, unfolding it in her lap. “Have you ever been to Wyoming before?”

“Never,” you reply, sipping the coffee again. She watches as you close the cap one-handed, your other braced on top of the steering wheel. “We moved around a bit when I was a kid, but I guess it’s not far from where my sister was born, now that I think about it.”

“You have a sister?” Ellie asks instantly, her curiosity piqued. She’s still not quite sure what it is about you that has her so curious, her questions coming one after another. And she’s no fool, she knows Joel has about had it with the questions, but you indulge her, and it’s…it’s nice.

“Had,” you say quickly, and Ellie bites her tongue, instantly regretting it, wondering if you’re about to make another rule for her, like you had back in Lincoln. “She was in Austin, with our parents, but then Joel found her in Cincinnati. She, uh, she died. She got bit and FEDRA dragged her off.”

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

You lift a shoulder, moving both hands to the steering wheel. Your eyes are glued to the windshield in front of you.

But Ellie can’t help herself. She wants to know; she has to know. “What about your parents?”

“Remember how I told you they bombed Boston?” you say, and Ellie nods, remembering the story, the craters in the streets, how it looks like a fucked-up moon. “Austin was overrun, and FEDRA levelled the city. My parents were in a shelter when they dropped the bombs, and no one survived.”

The map flutters in Ellie’s grip as her finger curl, the paper crinkling. “I…”

“You don’t have to say you’re sorry, kid,” you say, but she can see the strange expression on your face, something she doesn’t have a name for. “It happened a long time ago.”

You both go quiet for a while, and the only sound is the rumble of the truck, Joel’s quiet breathing in the backseat, and the rustle of the map as Ellie tries to figure out where you are, where you’re going. You offer help where you can, splitting your focus between the road and the map. “Right about there,” you point, “that’s where we camped.”

“Okay, so it’s 76 West, and then 70 West for, like, ever.”

“Then Wyoming?”

Ellie nods in agreement. “And then Wyoming. Do we know where in Wyoming, exactly?”

You shake your head. “Joel knows. There’s a radio tower that we used to send messages through it; I can’t remember the city. Last we heard from Tommy, that’s where it came from.”

“Tommy is Joel’s brother?”

“He is,” Joel answers, startling you both. He leans forward from the backseat, reaching for the thermos of coffee. “The tower is in Cody.”

Ellie turns back to the map, ignoring the loud slurp as Joel drinks from the thermos. “Cody…Cody.” She spots it, along the fold in the map. “Ah, man, that is deep up in there.”

“Great,” you mumble, reaching for the thermos as Joel hands it to you.

“Yeah,” Joel grumbles in response, and Ellie sees the way his hand lingers on your shoulder, squeezing lightly.

“And if he’s not there?” she asks.

“Then odds are, he’ll be near a settlement,” Joel replies, “probably close to another city. Ain’t too many of ‘em in Wyoming, thankfully.”

Ellie’s eyes find another city name on the map. “Chee-Yen.”

“Cheyenne,” you correct, and she looks at you.

“Che—really?”

The corner of your mouth quirks and you nod. “Really.”

“Cheyenne,” Ellie repeats, searching for more cities. “Laramie. Casper?” Another question piques, and she turns to Joel. “Is Tommy older than you or younger than you?”

His brow furrows in that way of his and he reaches for the thermos again. “Younger.”

“Why isn’t he with you?”

“Long story.”

“You people and your long stories,” Ellie groans, tipping her head back. “Is it longer than twenty-five hours? Cuz I think that’s what we got.”

Joel sighs, and she sees his eyes flick up, no doubt meeting yours in the mirror. Your grin is gone, your lips now pressed into a tight line.

Another sigh, and then the man speaks. “Tommy’s what we used to call a ‘joiner,’” he starts, fiddling with the cap on the thermos. “Dreams of becomin’ a hero. So, he enlisted in the army right outta high school. Few months later, they ship him off to Desert Storm. It’s what they called that war, it doesn’t matter. Point is, bein’ in the army didn’t make him feel much like a hero. Cut to twelve years later, outbreak happens, and he convinces me to join a group makin’ their way out to Baltimore, which I did, mostly to keep an eye on him, keep him alive. That’s where we met Tess, and her husband. That whole crew. We, uh…”

He trails off, and Ellie sees his eyes flick up again. You adjust your hands on the steering wheel.

“Well,” he continues after a beat, staring down into the thermos, “for what it was, it worked. Until it didn’t. We got kicked outta Baltimore, Tommy convinces us to try Boston, and…”

Ellie looks at you. “And then you found each other again.”

You nod slowly, your lips still pressed together.

“We did,” Joel agrees. “And it worked, again, being in the QZ, keepin’ ourselves busy, keepin’ the smuggling under the radar. Then Tommy meets Marlene, and she talks him into joinin’ the Fireflies. Same mistake he made when he was eighteen.” He shakes his head. “Wants to save the world. Pipe dream. Him, Fireflies, all of ‘em, delusional.”

You inhale sharply.

“‘Course, last I heard,” Joel says, “he quit the Fireflies, too. So now he’s on his own out there, and…we gotta go get him.”

It goes silent in the truck again, save for your quiet swallow as Joel gives you the thermos again. But it’s only a moment before Ellie breaks it. “If you don’t think there’s hope for the world, why bother going on? I mean, you gotta try, right?”

Joel’s brow pinches again. “You haven’t seen the world, so you don’t know.” His eyes flick up again, but yours stay glued to the road ahead. “You keep goin’ for family. That’s about it.”

“I’m not family,” Ellie says, and ignores the way the words make her chest hurt.

“No,” Joel says instantly. “You’re cargo. We made a promise to Tess, and she was like family.”

She turns her head away from him, staring at the world rolling by outside. “What if you don’t find him?”

“We will,” you answer, a strange waver in your voice. “We’re persistent people, Ellie. Capable people. We’ll find Tommy, and we’ll get you to the Fireflies.”

She’s too distracted by the weird tone in your voice to notice the truck rolling to a stop. You push the stick on the middle console forward, and your eyes flick up to Joel’s.

“Outside. Now.” Before Ellie can say a word, you’re getting out of the truck, your eyes flashing to her before you shut the door. “Stay here. I just need a minute.”

Ellie just watches, the truck wobbling slightly as Joel shuffles out after you, slamming his door shut. You walk around to the front of the truck, your hands clenched into fists at your sides, and Joel follows.

“Cargo?” you shout, whirling on him when Joel reaches for your arm, your name halfway out of his mouth. “Are you fucking kidding me, Joel?”

“What are you—”

“She’s a person,” you nearly cry, grabbing the front of his jacket with both hands. “She’s just a kid, Joel. You can’t fucking…Cargo?”

“I’m sorry,” Joel grunts, wrapping a hand around your wrist. “It just came out, all right? I didn’t mean to—”

“I’m gonna say it once,” you say, smacking his hand away, pointing a finger in his chest. “Don’t ever call her that again. You hear me? She’s not fucking cargo.”

He just stares at you for a moment, lifting his hand again. When you don’t immediately smack it away again, he curls his fingers around your wrist, tugging on your hand. “Liv, I’m sorry.”

“I’m not the one you need to apologize to.”

He lifts a brow. “I don’t know the last time you snapped on me like this, so maybe you are.” He presses his fingers against your pulse. “Talk to me. Tell me what’s going on in your head.”

You try to turn away from him, but he sees your bottom lip wobble, and pulls you back. “Last night, I just…I let my mind wander.”

“And?”

“And this feels like some kind of karmic joke,” you say, shrugging your shoulder, your eyes going shiny. “We’ve been hiding what I am for what, almost fifteen years? We could have stopped this a long time ago, and yet somehow, here we are, doing favours for Marlene of all people, putting our asses on the line, taking this kid across the country on a wing and prayer, and for what? To make up for all the terrible shit we did? She could save the damn world, and I’d still feel guilty.”

“Liv, you don’t have to—”

“I know,” you say, cutting him off, lifting a hand in the air. “I know why we made the choices we did, Joel. And I don’t regret them — I don’t regret choosing you over everything else. I never will. Ever. But this kid? She’s not just cargo, okay? It’s more than that. And don’t try to tell me that it’s not.”

Joel swallows hard, the guilt gnawing at his gut, and he pulls you against his chest, his words muffled by your hair. “I made you a promise,” he says, your words from the forest echoing through his head. “No questions asked. And…it is more than that. I know that. I just…”

He pulls back, holding you at arm’s length, and his eyes catch on his watch, just visible past the cuff of his jacket. Your eyes follow his, and you cover it with your hand, brushing your fingers against the band. “Joel.”

“We need to keep goin’,” he says, effectively ending the conversation. He turns on his heel, swallowing down the barrage of emotion that’s crept up his throat. You don’t fight him as you follow, slipping your hand into his as you walk back to the truck. From the corner of his eye, he sees you wipe your cheeks, and you don’t say a word as he gets into the driver’s seat, you taking his place in the back.

Ellie glances between the two of you as he shifts the truck back into drive, the tires starting to roll as his foot comes off the break. “Ya got up pretty early,” he says to the kid. “If you wanna grab some more sleep.”

He can see the flash of protest in her face, but then she nods. In the backseat, you pull your jacket over you like a blanket, curling up on the seat. Joel pushes the gas pedal, the engine revving as he finds a comfortable speed. He puts the Linda Ronstadt cassette back in, keeps the volume low enough, and it’s not long before you’re both asleep. He finishes off the coffee, gripping the steering wheel one-handed as the grey sky starts to darken, but not into night.

He can almost smell it, the shift in the air, the feeling of rain before it comes. His joints ache, and he can hear your voice in his head: old man. He keeps his eyes on the road, humming along with the cassette, and when she croons out Bill and Frank’s song again, his eyes dart to your sleeping form in the backseat.

His eyes slide to Ellie next, passed out in the passenger’s seat, her head tipped back, mouth wide open. That thing crawls up his throat again, but he swallows it back, shakes his head, clears his throat.

Not now.

The thunder starts first, loud rumbles that echo inside the truck cab. You both sleep through the first few, but as the rain starts to fall, he hears you stirring, one hand reaching for his arm, calling his name softly.

“We might have to stop for a bit,” he tells you, covering your hand with his free one. “Dunno how bad it’s gonna get.”

Not thirty minutes later, and he’s pulling the truck to the side of the road, trying to tuck it amongst other abandoned vehicles. Ellie wakes a little later, clearly confused, and you put a hand on her shoulder as you explain why you’ve stopped. Joel does his best to ignore the twist that forms in his gut, seeing you be gentle with her.

Not here.

Thankfully all the food is in the cab of the truck, so you fish out some dry stuff, trail mix and some semi-stale crackers, a sports drink passed between the three of you. Ellie makes a face at the yellow colour, and Joel shakes his head. “They all taste the same.”

“They do not,” you laugh, taking the bottle from Ellie. “Is it weird to say the yellow ones were my favourite?”

“Yes,” Ellie says instantly, making a face as you take a big sip. “It literally looks like pee!”

“Lemon-flavoured,” you shoot back, waggling your eyebrows. The kid barks a laugh, and Joel chews the inside of his cheek to stop from smiling.

A few more puns are told, Joel shaking his head at you both, and you field a few more of Ellie’s questions. Only one of them has you glancing in his direction, unable to give her an answer. Are all the QZs like Boston?

“No,” he says bluntly, staring out the truck windshield, at the watery world beyond, smudged through the soaked glass, “no, they aren’t.”

It’s answer enough for the kid.

The rain refuses to let up, and it’s getting cold in the cab of the truck. You and Ellie switch places, some artful manoeuvring on your part that ends with you more in Joel’s lap than the passenger’s seat. You linger a moment, and he brushes his hand across your back before you’re folding yourself into the other seat. You’d thought to stick the sleeping bags in the cab as well, and Ellie unzips hers, tucking it around herself as she settles into the backseat. It’s not long at all until she’s passed out again, face buried in the sleeping bag.

You shed your boots, and Joel reaches for your sore ankle again, rubbing the same way he had in the forest. You hum happily, leaning half against the door, half against the seat. The blanket is settled over you both, stretched across the console, and Joel lets his hand snake a bit up your pant leg, fingers seeking your warm skin, massaging your muscles.

“You are damn good at that, Joel Miller,” you murmur, watching him from your spot, your head cocked to the side.

He lets the corner of his mouth lift. “I’m an expert when it comes to touching you, baby.”

Your grin matches his. “Ain’t that the truth.”

You both fall quiet, and the only noise is the patter of the rain on the roof of the truck, the softer noise of it against the windows, and Ellie’s quiet breathing. He doesn’t let up on your ankle, and for a long moment, you just stare at each other, your head still tilted to the side, Joel looking up at you under his eyelashes.

“I’m sorry, for snapping on you earlier,” you say, pushing your head against your fist. Your eyes are shiny again.

He squeezes his hand around your leg, pressing into the muscle of your calf. “You don’t have to apologize, Liv.”

“I do,” you say, your voice insistent, and you reach across the space between you, fingers curling in his sleeve, tugging his hands into yours. “It wasn’t fair of me, I just—”

“You were looking out for the kid,” he says, tangling your fingers together. “I know that.”

Both of your heads turn, looking at Ellie’s sleeping form in the back. Joel doesn’t let his gaze linger, focusing on your linked finger instead.

“What are we gonna do, Joel,” you ask, “when this is all over?” When he doesn’t answer right away, you elaborate. “After we get her to the Fireflies, I mean. After we find Tommy.”

He squeezes your knuckles with his own. “I haven’t really thought that far, if I’m bein’ honest.” His brow furrows as he looks at you, sees something unspoken on your face. “Why, what are you thinkin’, baby?”

You lift your shoulder slowly. “I thought maybe…maybe we go back to Lincoln. Bill’s bunker was still full, even after we took what we did. We could give them a proper funeral, clean the place up again, build the walls up. Have our own place.” Your eyes drop to your lap. “Our own home.”

“Is that what you imagined for us?” Joel asks you, reaching over and cupping your chin in his palm, lifting your eyes to his. You lean into his touch, bending forward to make it easier for him. “White picket fence, big house with a yard…”

The last part goes unspoken, but it’s loud as hell in his mind.

…kids?

Your face twists, a sad smile on your lips as you cover his hand with yours, keeping his hand against your cheek. “You know, I never actually let myself imagine it after I left Austin. Cuz when I finally let myself want that with you, I had to let you go, and once I let himself start to want you again, the world ended.”

Joel’s throat goes thick. You’ve never told him that before. “Want me…again?”

You nod into his palm. “Our birthday. You called me, and we talked, and you—”

“I asked you if Dean had proposed.”

Another nod. “And I told you if he asked, I would have said no. And you told me that you’d always be there for me. I thought about it the whole way home, and I just…” You turn your head, pressing a soft kiss to the centre of his palm. “I never stopped wanting you, Joel. Never stopped loving you. I can’t ever stop.”

A single tear slides down your cheek, and Joel reaches for you, centre console be damned. “C’mere,” he husks, hauling you into his lap, arranging your limbs until you’re comfortable, the blanket now draped over you both. His words are muffled by your hair. “Love you so goddamned much.”

You tilt your head back to press a kiss to the scruff of his jaw. “Love you more.”

The road is clear, until it’s not.

You’re not totally sure where you are. The maps have you a bit turned around, and it’s hard as hell to pinpoint a location on the map. You’re in the passenger’s seat again, Joel behind the wheel, Ellie in the back. You split your gaze between the maps and the outside, trying to find some kind of marker, some landmark that might help you figure out where you are. But too many signs are rusted away, the names snapped in half, the highway signs rotted and scattered in pieces on the highway.

Eventually, things start to look more…industrial. You’re at a loss; you haven’t been this far out of Boston since the outbreak, and even before, you never went Northwest. An overpass has you squinting at the maps, trying to find the number, but the vehicles have grown more concentrated, and Joel manoeuvres the truck around an abandoned ambulance, but then hits the breaks, seeing an eighteen-wheeler stretched sideways along the tunnel beneath the overpass, effectively blocking the way.

“Stay put,” you tell Ellie, tossing the maps onto the dashboard. Joel gestures to the rifle in the backseat and Ellie hands it to him, while you unholster your gun, sliding out of the passenger’s side.

You walk towards the blocked tunnel slowly, both of your gazes sweeping left and right, every rustle of leaves in the wind making your sense prickle. You feel…uneasy.

Glancing back at the truck, you can see Ellie through the windshield, leaning between the front seats, concern evident on her face. “Joel,” you call as he sinks to one knee, peering through the small space beneath the eighteen-wheeler’s trailer, “we’re not getting through this. None of these cars are movable.” You gesture around, the smashed cars and rusted-out vans only proving your point. “You even know where we are?”

“Kansas City,” he supplies.

You scratch your fingers across your forehead. “Missouri?”

“Sure as fuck ain’t Wyoming,” he grunts, and reaches out a hand. You haul him to his feet, holstering your gun as you start back to the truck. “I need to look at the map.”

Ellie glances between you as you get back into the truck, instantly handing Joel the map, trying to make sense of one of the smaller ones. “How far back are we gonna have to go to get around this?” you ask Joel, jutting your chin at the map in his hands. He traces his finger across the highway lines, but doesn’t say anything, just sighs. “Joel?”

“Screw it,” he says, and shifts the truck into reverse. Ellie falls back into her seat as Joel tosses you the maps.

“What are you doing?”

“We can jog right around this tunnel,” he says, three-point-turning the truck around, bracing his hand on the back of your seat as he does so, “take the next ramp,” he shifts it into drive, “and we’re back on the road, a minute tops.”

You reach for the map again, not totally convinced as he drives off the on-ramp, leading away from the tunnel.

Somehow, you end up in the city.

“We’re going the wrong way,” you say, shaking your head at him as the buildings start to become more and more concentrated. “Joel, this is taking us in the opposite direction of the highway.”

“Well, then where the fuck is the highway?” he shoots back at you, exasperated. His tone makes you bristle. “Tell me which way to go.”

“I don’t know where it is,” you say, smacking your hand against the map. “I’m all turned around, and I have no clue where the fuck we are right now.”

He glances over you, turning onto the next street. “Don’t look at the state map, Liv, look at the inset.”

“You look at the fucking inset!” You heave a sigh, shoving your hand through your hair. “Sorry, I’ve never been to Kansas fucking City before. We’re going…north. I think.”

“And the highway is—”

“West,” Ellie supplies from the backseat, and when you shoot her a look over your shoulder, she shrugs her shoulders, holds her hands out apologetically.

“Okay, so it’s gotta be the right,” Joel grunts, but then shakes his head, murmuring what the fuck?

“We’re going in a circle,” you sigh, dropping the map in your lap. “We’re just—”

“Stop!” Ellie says suddenly, leaning between the seats. Joel slams on the brakes, the tires screeching as the truck come to a halt. She points out Joel’s window. “Is that the QZ?”

Your heart slams against your ribs as you see the QZ wall. It looks…abandoned, for lack of a much better word. The gate in the wall is wide open, and your hand shoots out, landing on Joel’s leg, curling your fingers in the fabric of his jeans. “Where the fuck is FEDRA?”

“Hey!” someone shouts, and you nearly jump out of your skin. Joel goes rigid. “Please help!”

The man stumbles forward on the street ahead of you, clutching his side, half-draped in a blanket. “Seatbelts,” Joel grits out, and you do as he says, turning to make sure Ellie gets hers on.

She stares at you wide-eyed as Joel grips the wheel, steps on the gas. “Aren’t we gonna help him?”

“No,” you reply, pressing yourself against the seat as the truck accelerates down the road. “No, we’re not.”

The man shouts, diving for cover, and you spot someone on the fire escape of the building on the right side of the road. “Joel!” you shout, the rev of the engine nearly drowning you out, but a moment later, the windshield crunches, a cinderblock splintering the glass. The impact throws the truck of course for a second, but Joel straightens it out, just in time for the tires to roll over a spike strip in the road. You can hear the air hissing from the tires, the truck rocking from left to right across the road. Ellie squeaks from the backseat, and you throw your arm back, your chest going tight when her hand wraps in yours.

Another man blocks the road, lifting a gun and pointing it right at the truck. Joel shouts a curse, cranking the wheel all the way to the right, and the truck nearly slides across the pavement, speeding right through the glass front of a laundromat. The hood crunches inward as it slams into the row of washing machines, and you’re jolted in your seat, your arm bent at an awkward angle, hand still wrapped around Ellie’s.

“You okay?” Joel asks, palm coming down on your leg. “You’re not hurt?”

You shake your head. “No, I’m fine,” you reply, gritting your teeth against the slight pain in your shoulder. “Nothing major. Ellie?”

“I don’t think so,” she answers, a waver in her voice.

Gunshots ring out, and you all duck on instinct. It keeps coming, shattering the glass doors of the machines, and Joel pushes at your shoulder, ripping your hand from Ellie’s. “Belts off, out of the truck!” he shouts, more gunshots cutting him off. You do as he says, reaching for the handle of the door. They keep shooting and you reach for the back door the moment you’re out, nearly yanking Ellie out of the truck. Joel goes for the rifle, and when you shut the door again, you put Ellie between you two, leaning against the truck as Joel loads the gun. She has your bat clutched in her hands.

There are more of them, more gunshots ringing through the laundromat, pinging off the body of the truck, flying over your heads to the back wall. Joel meets your eyes over Ellie’s head, and you draw your gun in one hand, and reach for the bat with the other. Ellie gives it willingly. You look around for something — anything — that might help, and finally, you spot a hole in the wall to your right, a kid-sized hole in the drywall leading to the other side.

“Ellie,” you say quietly, putting your hand on her arm. It makes her flinch. “You see that hole over there?” She follows your eyes, her chin lowering once. “You’re gonna squeeze through it, okay?” Gunfire cuts you off, and she grabs your hand, squeezing it between both of hers, her palms clammy.

“Last chance!” the fuckers outside yell. It makes your gut twist.

You shake your head, your attention turning to the kid, who now has a faraway expression on her face. “Ellie. When I say go, you crawl to the wall, you squeeze through, and you don’t come out until one of us gets you, okay?”

A bullet shatters the passenger’s side window, glass raining down on you. Out of reflex, you throw yourself over Ellie, protecting her. Her head whips around as more bullets ping off the truck. “They’re not gonna hit you,” Joel tells her. Her eyes are everywhere, and you try to brush glass away as Joel grabs the front of her coat. “Look at me!”

She listens. A bullet skims off the concrete floor beside your hand and it makes you flinch, an unseen mark, the burn of metal making you snatch your hand up off the floor.

“They’re not gonna hit you,” Joel says, his eyes locked with Ellie’s. “You stay down, you stay low, you stay quiet. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says meekly, with a nod.

“Go!” Joel shouts, and you both swing upwards, aiming your weapons. From the corner of your eye, you can see Ellie slide across the floor. You just keep shooting, training your gun on anything that moves until you know she’s against the wall. You empty your clip, dropping to your knee to reload, and she’s through the hole, behind the wall.

She’s safe.

You and Joel pull the trigger at the same time, your bullets finding new homes, dropping two of your attackers. “Motherfuckers!” someone yells, and you drop back down behind the truck. Your chest is heaving, your eyes darting to the hole in the wall. Joel whispers your name, juts his chin toward an old vending machine at the back of the laundromat. He moves first, and you follow, feeling his hand on your back, pushing you to safety.

The crunch of glass gives the guy away, and you straighten, pushing Joel’s shoulder down and pulling the trigger at the same time. It only takes one shot to drop him. You’re trying to catch your breath, forcing your eyes away from the blood now pooling around the guy’s head. Joel pulls the lever on the rifle, but it’s jammed. He curses, yanking on it hard, just as back doors you hadn’t noticed burst open, a new opponent barreling through.

Without thinking, you throw yourself in the line of fire, angling yourself in front of Joel. There’s a barrel of a shotgun in your face, and your instincts kick into gear. You swing the bat up, knocking the barrel away as the man pulls the trigger, the shot hitting the ceiling instead of you. But it’s not enough to loosen his grip.

The butt of the shotgun cracks across your face a second later, your vision instantly tinging black, and you go toppling, your head hitting the ground hard. Joel screams your name, but the sound is distant. The bat skitters out of your grip, but you have the wherewithal to keep your fingers tight around your gun. Joel, where is J—

You black out for a moment, the world slipping away completely, but a loud bang yanks you back, pained grunting following. “Now you’re gonna fuckin’ pay!” Your head lolls to the side, and you can’t quite make out what’s happening. Your head screams at you to move, and you see Joel’s boots scraping against the floor. Someone’s on him, someone’s—

Another shot rings out. It makes your ears ring. Someone shouts, and Joel starts coughing. He’s gasping, wheezing, crawling on his hands and knees toward you. He grabs your face in his hands, and something on your cheek feels hot, too hot. “Liv,” he calls, his voice hoarse. “Baby, are you okay?”

Slowly, he helps you up. Your head is spinning, but over his shoulder, you see Ellie step forward, her gun trained on your attacker, now sprawled on the floor. Joel’s eyes follow yours, and they widen when he sees her weapon of choice. The realization makes your heart twist; she shot the guy attacking you.

Joel pulls his hand from your face, and you see it’s covered in blood. The man groans, and when he spots Ellie and her gun, he lifts his hands in surrender. “No, no, no, no, it’s okay! It’s over! We’re not fighting anymore.” He wheezes, clearly in pain, and Joel gets to his feet, reaching down for you, his eyes trained on the guy.

He looks young. Too young.

“I’m gonna go home,” he says, “and I’ll tell everyone you’re good.” He starts crying, his voice going high-pitched. “I don’t know what to do! My legs don’t work!”

Even through your haze, you can put two and two together. She must have hit him in the spine.

“My mom isn’t far,” he continues, near sobbing. “If you could get me to her.” His eyes cut to you and Joel, now on your feet. You stumble slightly, but Joel has a tight grip on you. “We could trade with you guys. We could be friends. I didn’t know. I’m Bryan. I’m Bryan.”

Still with a tight grip on you, Joel turns to Ellie. She lowers the gun, and he holds his hand out. You open your mouth to say something, but she sniffs, shaking her head, and hands it to him. One-handed, Joel tucks it into the waist of his jeans.

“Take her,” he says to Ellie, and it takes a second for you to realize he’s referring to you. His grip on you disappears, and for a moment, you think you might topple over, but Ellie fits herself beneath your arm, one arm tight around your waist, tugging your arm around her shoulders.

Joel pulls out his knife. “Wait, wait, wait!” Bryan shouts, and pulls a knife from his belt, letting it clatter to the floor. “You can have it! It’s a good knife.”

“Turn around,” Joel says, nailing Ellie with dark eyes that send a chill down your spine. His tone clears away some of the haze in your head. “Now.”

“No, no, no, no!” Bryan shouts again. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“Liv,” Joel calls, his tone still shiver-inducing. Blinking hard, you turn Ellie towards the wall, angling yourself in front of her. She’s still holding you upright, and buries her face in your chest. You can feel the tears on her cheeks, and you lift your hand, letting it rest on the back of her head.

“Please, please, please,” Bryan whimpers.

“Cover your ears,” you whisper to Ellie, propping your chin on the top of her head. Blood drips down your face, sticky and hot, and you ignore it as best you can, though it’s hard to ignore the throb in your cheek.

“I’m sorry, please! You don’t have to! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please!”

Ellie’s breathing gets heavy, the front of your shirt almost damp with it.

You hear Joel take the man’s life. You wait until the gasping stops, and then you tap Ellie’s shoulder. “It’s over.” For a moment, she doesn’t move, squeezing both arms around you. You sway slightly, and Joel’s hand touches between your shoulders. It makes you flinch, and Ellie jumps back, pressing herself to the wall.

He’s got your chin in his hand a second later, turning your head slightly, giving you a once-over. “You okay? Nothing broken?”

“Hurts,” you admit, and he wipes away a bit of the blood with his sleeve. “I’ll live.”

Ellie’s eyes dart past Joel, towards where Bryan lies, and he steps to the side, blocking her view, taking you with him. Joel gestures to the hole. “Need you to find a door or something, we’re not gonna fit through that.”

She nods, her lip quivering, and immediately climbs back through the hole, disappearing from view. Joel grabs your chin again, and you notice how heavy his breathing is, how shaky his hands are. It’s quiet, for a moment, no more gunfire or shouting. “Scared me.”

“Makes two of us,” you agree, sighing as he leans in, pressing a kiss to the uninjured side of your face, right at your jaw. “We need to get out of here.”

He glances over your shoulder at the wrench of the truck and the front of the laundromat. “Truck’s toast, we’ll figure it out. We need to find somewhere safe, for the night at least. High up, find a way out of the city. And get you cleaned up.” He bends slightly, peering through the hole in the wall. “Ellie!”

“There’s some stuff against the door,” she calls back, and you can hear her sigh.

Joel’s jaw goes tight. “Well, can you move it?”

It’s slow-going. Your head throbs with every step, twin shocks of pain in your skull and along your cheek. Joel’s grip is tight around your waist, his head whipping in every direction as he keeps you close to the building, and then he leans you against the front of brick as Ellie pulls whatever’s blocking the door out of the way, Joel pushing hard against it to help. The moment the door swings inward, he rushes you in, shuts the door, and then motions for Ellie to help push the table back into place. “Let’s go,” he says to her. “Fast.”

“Right.”

The door clangs as the table is pushed back into it. The noise makes your ears ring, and you sag against the table, exhaling heavily. Ellie sniffs loudly, and both you and Joel look at her. “I’m okay,” she says quickly, dropping down to grab her backpack. “I’m good.” She sets the bag on the table, unzips it. “I, uh, got some food in here still, and I got your light,” she says, and pulls out Joel’s flashlight, handing it to him. She looks between the two of you, wincing when she sees the blood on your face. “Fuck, Liv, are you—”

“I’ll be fine, kid,” you tell her, ignoring the way the words make your head throb. Your breath hitches, and you glance across at the hole in the wall. “Shit, Joel, the bat.”

His face goes hard, and you know what he’s gonna say. You can’t go back over there. There are bodies, evidence of the violence, and whoever sent the men will come looking. Standing here as long as you have is risk enough. “Liv, we—”

“I’ll go,” Ellie says, already walking toward the wall. “I can grab it and just—”

The distant screech of tires makes you freeze and you flash your hand out, grabbing the back of her coat and hauling her backward. “Leave it,” you grit out, lifting yourself up off the table. “We need to go now.”

“Where?” Ellie asks, and Joel heads to the door in the back of the room, clicking his flashlight on as he pushes it open slowly. Ellie fits herself under your arm again, your forearm resting on her backpack. “What are we gonna do now?”

“We go up,” you tell her, echoing what Joel had said earlier. “See if we can spot a path outta here.”

Joel glances over his shoulder at you, eyeing your arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Stay close.”

She nods. “Got it.”

You follow Joel down a hallway that leads out into an alley beside the building. There are cars scattered, and as the rumble of a truck gets closer, you duck down, wincing as you go, hiding behind an SUV as a pickup rolls past the mouth of the alleyway, followed by a larger armoured truck.

They start shouting Bryan’s name.

Joel signals for you to stay put, and darts across the alley, to the side door of the building across the way. You hold your breath as he pulls it open, peering inside before turning back to you and Ellie, giving a quick nod. You rise slowly, but then push yourself, moving as fast as you can across the pavement to Joel’s side. He leads you inside, and Ellie pulls the door shut behind you.

It’s dark inside, and for a moment, you pause. Joel puts his gun away, and you follow suit. You sag against the wall slightly, and he’s got his hand under your chin. “Look at me,” he commands, and you listen, blinking hard as you stare back at him. “Think it’s a concussion?”

“No,” you tell him, lifting your head out of his palm. “I’m fine, Joel.” It comes out snappier than you intend, and your body gives you away, wobbling slightly with the turn of your head. “Fuck. I just need to sit down a minute, or something.”

As quietly as possible, you make your way through the building. It seems to be some kind of abandoned retail space, a bunch of different stores and shops connected by one main hallway. Right at the end of the block is an old coffee house, and Joel decides it’s a good place to spot, seeing the newspaper-covered windows and dark-painted walls.

“Are we okay in here?” Ellie asks as you walk in, Joel heading for the front of the shop. You watch as he peels back a small corner of the newspaper, just enough to peer through, and you sink into a chair nearby.

“For now,” you tell her, and wipe some more of the blood from your face. The bleeding’s stopped, as far as you can tell, and something in your chest pangs as Ellie reaches into her bag and pulls out what looks like an old t-shirt.

“Here,” she says, handing it to you. “It’s mostly clean.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Thanks, kid.”

Silence settles over the three of you as Joel peers out the window. “That wasn’t FEDRA that attacked us,” you say as he sinks back a little.

“Wasn’t Fireflies either,” Ellie says, and you nod. “Then who are they?”

“People,” Joel sighs. “Looks like they’re checkin’ out apartment buildings first.” He shakes his head. “But they’ll be comin’ through these places soon enough.” He rises to his feet, turning and walking towards you. Ellie takes his place, looking through the crack in the newspaper. He taps your shoulder as soon as he’s close enough, and takes the t-shirt from you. You can almost hear the ache in his knees as he crouches down and starts wiping the blood from your face. His face is a hard mask, and you can stop yourself from cupping his cheek, swiping your thumb across his cheekbone. “When he burst through the door back there,” he mutters, shaking his head ever so slightly, “and then I saw you drop. I heard the shot, but I didn’t see where he—”

“Joel,” you murmur, brushing your fingers through his hair. “We’re fine. I’m fine.”

“Cracked you damn good,” he replies, dabbing lightly. You try not to wince. “Lucky it didn’t break your cheekbone.”

Before you can respond, Ellie pipes up. “There’s a really tall building, like, four blocks away.”

“Yeah,” Joel grunts, and hands you the now-stained t-shirt. You hold it against your cheek, watching as he sinks into the chair across from yours. “Saw it.”

“That’s where we’re going?” she asks, glancing at you over her shoulder. “Up?”

Joel nods. “As soon as we don’t hear a truck, we move. Fast as we can.”

He props his elbow on the table, puts his face in his hand, and you reach over, curling your fingers around his forearm. He’s shaking.

You murmur his name as Ellie slides down to sit against the wall, drawing her knees up to his chest. He doesn’t answer you, but drops his hand, catching yours in the process. “Are you okay?” Ellie asks, and when your eyes flick to her, you see she’s addressing Joel.

“I’m all right,” he grumbles, but his fingers twitch against yours, his brow furrowing. Damn that hard mask of his. “Are you…all right?” he asks in return, and you press your fingers against his wrist. His heartbeat races beneath his skin.

“Yeah,” Ellie says quietly, but she doesn’t elaborate.

“Joel,” you murmur again, and he shakes his head, staring down at his boots. You don’t have to see his face to know the guilt, the realization. If Ellie hadn’t done what she had, you’d probably all be laying dead in that laundromat.

“Thing is,” Joel says after a moment, his voice gruff, “is I didn’t hear that guy comin’. And…you…you shouldn’t have had to…you know?”

God, he’s bad at this. You know what he’s trying to say to her, but you can’t try and take over. He needs to say this himself.

“Well, you’re glad I did, right?” Ellie asks, and her eyes dart to you for a second.

“You’re just a kid,” he says, and suddenly your chest feels tight. “You shouldn’t know what it means to…” He trails off, but then lifts a hand. “It’s not like you killed him, but, shootin’ or…I know what it’s like, first time you, uh, hurt someone like that.”

Her eyes slide fully to you for a moment, and you just nod in return, the message silent. I do too.

“If you, uh, w—uh,” Joel tries to continue, but shakes his head, looking at you, a near cry for help in his eyes. “I’m not good at this.”

“Yeah, you really aren’t,” Ellie quips, and you squeeze his hand.

“I mean, it was my fault,” he says, shaking his head some more. “You shouldn’t have had to. And I’m sorry.”

You haven’t had a chance, really, to take in what happened. What Ellie did. Listening to Joel now, feeling his pulse race beneath your fingers, and seeing tears on the kid’s face as he tells her he’s sorry…It breaks your heart.

“I should have heard it,” you say, and Joel’s eyes flick to you. You lift your chin, ignoring the way your gut twists as Ellie wipes her cheeks. “I should have shot first, and I didn’t. I’m sorry, too, Ellie. I am. We’re here to protect you, and we…Joel’s right. You shouldn’t have had to do it.”

She nails you to your spot with those big dark eyes, wet with tears. That thing you’ve been feeling since this kid barrelled her way into your lives screams at you to grab her, to hug her close and tell her everything is gonna be okay, but you feel frozen, stuck in place, unable to move.

“It wasn’t my first time,” Ellie tells you both, and your brows raise. You can see the shock on Joel’s face, too.

Your fingers tap against Joel’s wrist. “Give her the gun.”

His head snaps back to you, one brow lifting slightly.

“It’s hers,” you prompt, lifting your chin slightly. “Give it back.”

Slowly, he moves over, closing the small space between the two of you and her, leaning down on one knee as he pulls the gun out of the back of his jeans. Ellie’s face perks up as he hands the small pistol back to her after pulling out the clip. “Show me your grip.”

She stares up at him as she does as asked, obeying when Joel tells her to take her finger off the trigger.

“Now, who taught you that?”

“FEDRA school,” she answers.

“Figures,” he grunts, and you push your chin into your palm as he reaches for her hands, adjusting her grip, showing her the proper way. The thing in your chest relaxes slightly, watching him with her. “Thumb over your thumb. Left hand squeezes down on the right. You got it?” She nods, doing what he tells her. You hear his voice soften ever so slightly. “There ya go.”

Ellie looks at you over Joel’s shoulder, almost like she’s looking for your approval. You try to blink away the wetness that’s formed in your eyes, and nod at her, giving her a little grin.

“Now, look it,” Joel says, and grabs the top of the gun, trying to pull it away. But she’s got the grip right and the gun doesn’t budge. Joel pulls again, nearly yanking her off the wall, and Ellie laughs. Then she relaxes, the laughter trailing off, but the smile on her face stays in place. “Okay?”

She nods. Joel gestures for the gun back, slides the clip back into place, and Ellie watches his movements. He hands it back to her, handle first, and the triumphant look on her face almost makes you laugh. She goes to put it in her pocket, but Joel stops her.

“Nuh-uh, you put it in your pack. You’ll shoot your damn ass off.” He gets back to his feet with a loud groan, and walks back to you. “How’s your head?”

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and take his offered hand, letting him help you up. You stuff the bloody t-shirt in the pocket of your coat. “I’ll feel better when we find somewhere safe for the night.” As of on cue, your face throbs so hard your eyes flutter shut. Joel squeezes your hip. “I’d murder for an ice pack right now.”

It’s a few more minutes, a few more pauses to determine where the truck that rumbles past goes, before Joel walks to the shop’s front door, starting to pull at the wood that’s been nailed over it. You try to help, but he waves you off. Once the door is free, Ellie comes up beside you, her hand slipping into yours. Joel sees it, and his eyes move from your hands to your faces, one at a time.

“We’ll get through this,” he says to Ellie, and you tighten your grip on her hand.

She gives a little nod. “I know.”

Without another word, Joel yanks the door open, and you step out into the daylight.

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#my fics #strawberry wine #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #the last of us #the last of us fic #the last of us spoilers #joel miller x oc #joel miller x liv stone

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ridestomars · 2 years

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WHERE THE FAIRIES ALL WAIT – E. MUNSON HEADCANONS

𖥻 pairing: eddie munson x fairy!reader. 𖥻 warnings: only mentions of food and eating i guess, if you see something else pls tell me. not proofread (as always).

💭 liv's thoughts: i dedicate this one to @wrenniebaby!! the title comes from madonna's dear jessie. also, my ask is always open for thoughts about my concepts (esp this one!) <3

DO NOT INTERACT WITH THIS WORK IF YOU'RE UNDER SIXTEEN.

🧚‍♀️. Eddie's used to Hawkins' strangeness, but he couldn't deny that really weird stuff has been happening a lot lately. It could be spring, but he swears he's never seen Forest Hills' grass so green and flowery; the front door of his trailer is surrounded by mushrooms and four-leaf clovers – which seems to mean a lot to Uncle Wayne, since he's always picking them up and bringing them home for good luck.

🧚‍♀️. Not to mention the haunting sweet smell of apples that have been following him around wherever he goes. And he is the only one who's able to smell it.

🧚‍♀️. But there are two things that are intriguing him a lot: every day when he comes home from school, he sees a light spot floating outside of his window. Shining a bright gold and sparkling from time to time. And yet, every time he locks eyes with it, it simply vanishes.

🧚‍♀️. There was this one time when he was staring so hard at the light spot, trying to figure out what it was that when it disappeared, he was welcomed by the confused face of Max Mayfield, his neighbor, who was looking at him like he was the most idiotic person in the world.

🧚‍♀️. But the light spot isn't the only thing that has been disappearing lately. A bunch of his own things have gone missing throughout the week. For example, on Monday, he couldn't find his D20 anywhere; Tuesday, he lost three D&D figures at once; Wednesday, his guitar pick necklace disappeared.

🧚‍♀️. He tried to convince himself that, even though he is always extra careful with all of his D&D stuff, these things happen… right? Maybe he dropped them in one of their sessions, or in the school's hallway by accident. It's fine.

🧚‍♀️. Eddie thought he was imagining things when he found gold glitter all over his guitar one day. A very similar color to the light spot that floats outside of his window every day.

🧚‍♀️. It was almost a month after these events started to happen that he was finally able to catch a glimpse of you, the little creature that has been peeking inside his room for the last weeks.

🧚‍♀️. He was absolutely shocked to see your face outside of his window (or should I say absolutely spooked).

🧚‍♀️. But he thought you were the cutest thing ever as your eyes widened, mouth completely agape, and face flushed when you realized that he had finally noticed you. And then, you went back to being that familiar light spot, twinkling before his eyes again.

🧚‍♀️. This simple encounter was enough for him to decide to try to know you, somehow.

🧚‍♀️. And so, he started to leave small things outside of his window for you to take – he figured it would be better than to have you taking his stuff without him noticing –, like small wildflowers that he reaped on his way back from school, or some nice fresh fruits he stole from one of the small markets uptown.

🧚‍♀️. Every morning, he was happy to find that all of his gifts were gone… but were replaced by something else.

🧚‍♀️. Colorful guitar picks, rings made out of twigs or wire and crystals, old coins, and pretty handmade bouquets of red flowers were your gifts to him.

🧚‍♀️. It was like you were warming up to him, and he patiently waited for the day when you would decide to show yourself again. And now, instead of spending his days thinking about the most fantastical campaigns, he daydreamed about your next encounter; imagining every little aspect of it.

🧚‍♀️. But when you actually showed up, he was absolutely speechless.

🧚‍♀️. Maybe that was because you wore a small, earthy-toned slip dress, so loose that the straps kept falling off your shoulders, and your hair looked so wild, with a few leaves and twigs along the strands. In a nutshell, you were probably the most beautiful person he's ever seen in his whole life.

🧚‍♀️. Oh, and the way your golden aura practically radiated out of your skin was just too much for him.

🧚‍♀️. He must've really looked like a fool because you started giggling so hard that your chest couldn't stop shaking and your cheeks started to heat up like crazy. And he just stood there… absolutely mesmerized by the sound of your laughter.

🧚‍♀️. After a bit, he finally mustered up the courage to say, in a very high-pitched voice: "Hi! Hey! Hello! I-um… you… y-you were the one leaving those cool things on my window, right?", and you just nodded, curiously staring at him.

"Nice! That's really nice! I really liked t-them, especially those coins! Where did ya get them?" as soon as he said that, he paused, scratching his neck. "No! Forget I said that, it was super rude of me! I just uh-just wanted to say thank you! Yeah, thanks!"

🧚‍♀️. And as you giggled, finding his rambling really cute, his eyes dropped to your chest that shook wildly with laughter, and he saw it. His guitar pick necklace was wrapped around your pretty neck, and the pendant was comfortably resting on the valley of your breasts.

🧚‍♀️. Ever since then, talking to you was his favorite part of the day.

🧚‍♀️. I mean, at least seeing your face, since you didn't talk. At all. You just nodded or shook your head as you listened to his endless ramblings.

🧚‍♀️. You kept exchanging gifts every day, but now, Eddie invited you to eat the fruits he brought with him. As in: he actually asked you to enter his bedroom, sit on his crappy mattress with him and share large portions of peaches, apples, strawberries, grapes… you name it.

🧚‍♀️. And you kept making rings and pretty necklaces for him, and he treasured them with his whole heart.

🧚‍♀️. In fact, you even had matching rings now! Both were made of wire with a small citrine in the middle of them – you insisted on making it onyx or any darker stone, but Eddie insisted that they didn't match you, and you should make them citrine.

🧚‍♀️. In your almost daily visits, Eddie always put music on. But always went for soft tunes, like Heart and even Fleetwood Mac – he borrowed most of the records from Nancy's collection.

🧚‍♀️. And you discovered that you actually enjoyed these human songs. Especially Stevie Nicks.

🧚‍♀️. In fact, it was during one of those music sessions that you actually spoke to Eddie for the first time.

"Like it", you softly muttered, while chewing on a strawberry.

"Y-you what?" he almost fell out of bed when he heard you speak.

"Like… it?" you asked back, now very unsure of your own words. "No?"

"You like Fleetwood Mac?" Eddie questioned slowly and you nodded, "That's nice, baby. Y'could do better, though."

And then you're back to giggling again.

🧚‍♀️. Needless to say that he bought the whole Fleetwood Mac and Stevie Nicks discography for you. So now, every time you get together, you listen to a new one.

🧚‍♀️. And now that he finally heard your voice, he always tries to make you talk to him. Even if all you could say was small, one-word sentences, and was really patient to teach you how to form more complicated sentences <3

LIKES, REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK ARE APPRECIATED! eddie masterlist | main masterlist | navigation ── hey! wanna talk? leave me a message after the beep. currently accepting requests for steve, nancy and eddie.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fairy!reader #eddie x fairy!reader #fairy!reader #liv talks about eddie #eddie <3

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olibavee · 2 years

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we have a neighbor who never mows their grass and always puts out halloween decorations on the first of september and then doesn’t take them down for months and everyone hates it apparently. i think that’s hilarious though + i hope they keep doing it tbh

#liv rambles #i think the overgrown grass and weeds really add to the gravestones and skeletal remains

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companion-showdown · 4 months

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Showdown 2k24 Nominations!

alright, redoing this post now that I can give a concrete start date of Monday the 15th of January!

Nominations for the tournament are open up until the start date, and you can submit anyone who could reasonable be considered a companion, either by sending me an ask or by filling out

this form.

If you make your nomination via the form you can also submit some propaganda to go alongside the poll. Anyone who was considered a regular at any point in the last year will automatically be included, as well as anyone who was in the original tournament (+/- a couple I might miss or misremember as being a regular because I don't have old lists anywhere). The exception to this is last years winner, Rose Tyler, she will not be getting a place in the main tournament, however after the final I will run a poll to see if our new winner can beat her. (oh and also maybe I'll leave the TARDIS out but not fully decided yet)

The tournament is going to be run in the same way I did @adventure-showdown, meaning I'll keep companions from different periods of the show and different mediums segregated at first so the nicher ones don't immediately get knocked out, and slowly get mingled together. The exact details are going to depend on just how may characters get included.

Errm yeah, so go wild, nominate whoever you like (as long as they are a companion). If they are from teh TV show they have to be on this list to qualify, and for EU companions I'm going with them needing a TARDIS wiki page, and also I will give them a quick proof read to make sure they pass, the bar is low but it is there

if you want to submit an alternate version of the character sorry but main version only unless you can give a really good reason, eg regenerations of a time lord

also, if they are primarily from another franchise that'll be a no

The full list of contestents is under the cut and will be updated as nominations come in. Its sorted by medium and then to be alphabetical by first name. if an eu companion exists in multiple mediums i just sort of picked one or I put them under the other category, people who exist in real life are also sorted into their own category. There are some characters under Classic Who/NuWho who were not companions on TV but were in the EU. Companions who's names are in green have had propaganda submitted for them, if they're not in green then they don't, and just because someone has propaganda doesn't mean i wont accept more

Classic Who

Ace McShane

Adric

Barbara Wright

Ben Jackson

The Brigadier

Chang Lee

Dodo Chaplet

Grace Holloway

Harry Sullivan

Ian Chesterton

Jamie McCrimmon

Jo Grant

Kamelion

Katarina

Leela

Liz Shaw

Mags

Mel Bush

Mike Yates

Nyssa

Peri Brown

Polly Wright

Romana I

Romana II

Sabalom Glitz

Sara Kingdom

Sarah-Jane Smith

Sergeant Benton

Steven Taylor

Susan Foreman

Tegan Jovanka

Turlough

Vicki Pallister

Victoria Waterfield

Zoe Heriot

NuWho

Adam Mitchell

Amy Pond

Bill Potts

Canton Everett Delaware III

Clara Oswald

Dan Lewis

Donna Noble

Graham O'Brien

Grant Gordon aka the Ghost

Handles

Inston-Vee Vindor

Jack Harkness

Karvanista

Kate Stewart

Martha Jones

Mickey Smith

Missy

Nardole

River Song

Rory Williams

Rose Noble

Ruby Sunday

Ryan Sinclair

Wilfred Mott

Yasmin Khan

Audio

Alex Campbell

Anya Kingdom

Bliss

C'rizz

Cass Fermazzi

Charley Pollard

Cousin Eliza: Christine Summerfield: Horus

Dalek Test Subject 2

Erimem

Evelyn Smythe

Helen Sinclair

Hex Schofield

Iris Wildthyme

Liv Chenka

Lucie Miller

Mark Seven

Molly O'Sullivan

Narvin

Oliver Harper

Sheena (The Starship of Theseus)

Tania Bell

Novels

Anji Kapoor

Anna (Good Companions)

Badger

Barusa

Bernice Summerfield

Business woman (Time on a Vine)

Catherine “Cat” Broome

Chris Cwej - have propaganda but in conjunction with another contestant

Cinder

Claudia Marwood

Compassion

Dorothy (The Wonderful Doctor of Oz)

Fitz Kreiner

Guinevere Winchester

Hector (All Flesh is Grass)

Homunculette

Ikalla

Irving Braxiatel

Jack McSpringheel

Larna

Marie (Alien Bodies)

Milena

Patience

Penelope Gate

Peter Summerfield

Rosie Taylor

Roz Forrester - have propaganda but in conjunction with another contestant

Ruth Leonidas

Sam Jones

Serena

Sibling Different aka Mae

The Mortimer Family (Ida, Alan, Helen, George)

Trix MacMillan

V.M.McCrimmion

Wolsey the Cat

Zeleekhà

Comics

Abslom Daak, Dalek Killer

Angus ‘Gus’ Goodman

ARC

Chantir

Child Master (The Then and the Now)

Cindy Wu

Dave Lester

Destrii

Duh

Flanx

Fey Truscott-Sade

Frobisher

Gabby Gonzalez

Gillian & John Who

Grayla

Hattie Munroe

Izzy Sinclair

Jayne Kadett

John Jones

Josie Day

Kroton

Ly Chee the Wise

Majenta Pryce

Maxwell Edison

Olla

Rose-the-cat

Shayde

Ssard

The Squire

Weeping Angel (Origins)

Real Life

Alan Turing

Claudia Winkleman

John Lennon

Jules Verne

Mary Shelley

Peter Cushing

Other

Alison Cheney

Andy Davidson

Antimony (Death Comes to Time)

Brian the Ood

Dormouse (The Red and the Blue)

Emma (curse of fatal death)

Koschie

Romana (Battle for the Universe)

Splinx

Susan Who

Tom Campbell

#doctor who #showdown 2k24

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keep-the-wolves-close · 9 months

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Steady Heart

Chapter 1: Bad Things Are Comin’

When a sudden death happens at the Yellowstone Dutton Ranch, Stella Daniels is forced deeper into the world of her employer, John Dutton. It’s much further than her experience from just working with the horses and being an extra wrangler when needed. Now Stella, her brother Ryan, and her best friend Kayce; her employer’s youngest semi-estranged son, have to navigate finding their place within the ranch’s not-so-clean dealings and the challenges that come their way.

Pairing: Slow-burn Kayce Dutton x OFC Stella Daniels

Rating: M? (Still figuring out the rating system) (might eventually be M anyhow)

Warnings: Violence, mentions of blood, character death, grief, panic, language because I mean let’s be honest we’ve all seen the show lol

Word count: 3,803ish?

Stella Daniels breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned backward on a fence in a round pen belonging to Grand Springs Ranch. She was lending a helping hand to her good friend Olivia. Olivia helped run the broodmare portion of her parent’s ranch, and this year the broodmares were giving both women a run for their money. There had been so many speed bumps this year.

Olivia sidled up beside her to join in the viewing of a new broodmare prospect. They wanted to see her movement, her temperament, and also talk to the current owner about her AQHA titles. The usual things they looked for in a good broodmare. Olivia and her parents were very strict with things being ethical and not just breeding to breed. Stella respected that.

The mare in question was a pretty little chestnut thing, spunky and only 6 years old. Stella enjoyed watching her graceful lope. The mare had a bit of an attitude, but that wasn’t anything she couldn’t handle. She had been taught well when it came to horses and getting temperament under control. She had faith she would be able to have this girl right as rain in no time. She tapped Olivia’s arm and gave a nod of her approval, to which Olivia agreed.

Stella fixed her glasses and saw movement out of her peripheral. She looked over to see one of the full time hands rushing toward them with a concerned look on his face.

Olivia’s eyebrows scrunched together, “Tim, what’s wrong?”

“There was a phone call from the Yellowstone for Miss Stella.” Tim looked almost nervous.

“Was it Ryan?” Stella pushed herself away from leaning on the fence. “Is he okay?” Ryan would occasionally send a text, but always knew she might not have her phone. He only ever called the barn phone in an emergency when she was here.

“Something big happened. He said to tell you he’s fine, but they need you home right away.”

Her eyes glazed over as she unfocused on everything except her rising heartbeat. Her mouth dropped open as her breathing started to come out in shallow puffs. She didn’t feel when Olivia first grabbed her arm, but it was like she had been electrocuted the second she realized Olivia’s hand was there.

“Liv, I gotta go!” She bolted for the barn to grab her things.

Olivia responded, telling her to go, family comes first; her part of the job could be worked on at a later time, but Stella never heard those words as she ran as fast as her feet would take her.

She didn’t hear anything until she got back to the Yellowstone. As soon as her SUV tires hit the gravel of the ranch, Stella sped up to the main house. Seeing the flurry of activity happening there, she figured that would be the best place to start. Her SUV was barely in park before she hopped out and ran across the grass desperately searching for her brother. There were news vans, reporters, police, EMS, and livestock police all crowded around in the front yard.

It was at that moment that her hearing came back all at once. The chatter from every direction was disorienting. Her eyes were looking but not seeing. Every face was blending in with the next one. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, quicker with each passing second.

She pushed her glasses up while calling out, “Ryan!” Not caring who would look in her direction. “Ryan!!” She hollered out again, sounding more panicked than the first time. Multiple heads snapped in her direction. Lloyd spotted her through the mass of people and moved quickly to her. He grabbed her by the arm gently and guided her to the porch where it was a little more secluded. He knew he had to get her focus. If he didn’t, Stella would raze the whole ranch to ground looking for her brother.

“He’s finishing up something in the house, but he’ll be out soon. He’s okay.” He made sure to try and keep direct eye contact with Stella, trying to keep her glued to the porch. She continued to look around trying to peek at every face that walked by them. She had to physically see her brother to accept that he was alright.

“Stella, look at me!” Lloyd said sternly and shook her to grab her attention. “Your brother is alright. Come with me.”

She finally allowed herself to catch her breath. She trailed closely behind Lloyd, hot on his heels, to the large section of the porch by the front door. He had her sit in one of the chairs, and asked her to stay put. He wasn’t sure exactly how long Ryan would be, but he would be coming out the main door. Stella was in the perfect place to catch him the second he walked out. Lloyd knew Ryan would be glad to see his little sister.

With a numb expression she asked, “What the fuck happened, Lloyd?”

“Some of the herd moved onto tribal land.” He took a deep breath, trying to figure out how he was going to continue this explanation.

“Oh shit, no.” Stella’s shoulders dropped as she whispered.

“Well, both groups butted heads and here we are.” He wasn’t trying to be vague, but he also didn’t want to drop too much on her at once. Especially about Lee.

Stella knew that both groups didn’t always get along, but she never imagined it coming to something that required this much attention from police and news alike. She rubbed her fingertips on her palms trying to get feeling back. Ever since she left Grand Springs her hands had been numb.

Movement from the front door startled Stella into action. She hopped up from the chair and made her way quickly to the door, weaving through livestock police as she went. Kayce and Jamie came out of the house. Kayce, her best friend of 12 years, looked rough. When Stella saw the blood on his shirt, her heart nearly jumped from her chest.

“My God, Kayce!” She rushed over to him to try and get a better look. “Are you okay?” There was a mumbled, “‘m fine, Stell.” He grabbed her hands before she could touch his shirt. Knowing she would thank him later. He gave her hands a squeeze while taking a deep breath to ground himself. Almost as if he was using her as a tether.

Light brown eyes met darker brown. She finally saw the sadness that resided there. Her eyebrows scrunched together and she tilted her head to the left, and wordlessly asked what happened. His eyes dropped and his shoulders looked heavy. Stella’s breathing picked up again, worried by whatever change may be coming. She nodded to Kayce, knowing this was a conversation for another time.

“You’re brother should be right behind me. Go get him, and we’ll talk later.” He squeezed her hand again and let go. More people coming out of the house prompted Stella to give his arm a quick squeeze and move toward the door.

Her eyes locked on her brother, “Ryan!” She propelled herself forward and gripped him in a tight hug. Now that she could physically see that he was okay, her blood pressure started to return to normal. Ryan was her rock. She wouldn’t even dare to fathom the consequences of not having him around.

He squeezed her back and moved them off to the side. He held her tight. Primarily for her, but it also gave him solace because she was safe back here at the ranch.

“Let’s go down to the bunkhouse where it’s quiet. We gotta talk.” He needed to tell her about Lee.

Stella sat forward in the chair bracing herself on her knees. Her brother had just told her Lee was gone. She felt like she was going to vomit. Lee and herself hadn’t been as tight knit as she and Kayce, but she had known both of them since she was 14. He had taught her just as much about horses as Kayce. Hell, they partnered together to train the horses for the ranch. She was flabbergasted. Speechless. She struggled because that very well could have been her brother.

She took deep breaths to keep the nausea down, and placed a hand on her forehead. She pushed her glasses back up her nose and sat back swallowing the lump that was lodged in her throat. She felt guilty for even thinking that, but she also understood the look that Kayce had given her on the porch fully now.

There weren’t any tears being shed. Ryan was concerned, but then remembered that his little sister didn’t like to cry in front of people. Not even him. If she did, it was because she had no control anymore. He didn’t know how she dealt with human death. Animal death? He had seen her deal with it a thousand times over because of the ranch. The work on a ranch doesn’t stop unfortunately. But the untimely passing of a friend? He was worried about how this would go.

“Were you with them?” Stella cleared her throat.

Ryan bit his lip and nodded. “I was a few feet away, and then I got swept off to the side dealing with something else and Kayce was alone with his brother.”

“Oh my god, he was alone? That’s the second time that’s happened to him.”

Ryan knew she was talking about Kayce’s mother and how that whole situation went down. She felt horrible that Kayce had to face that by himself.

Stella knew she would probably cry later on when she was by herself, but she couldn’t even drum up a response to her brother. Other than the occasionally quiet whispered, ‘what the fuck.’ She could understand the disagreement about the herd, and knew things could get rash at times, but her mind was blown that it came to this kind of firing point.

It had been quiet for about five minutes with her staring at the wall where the sink was. “You still with me?”

Stella slowly moved her head to look at Ryan. “Hmm?” She said softly. The energy slowly drained out of her the longer she sat there. He came over and sat next to her. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her in sideways.

Ryan comforted her. “Stay with me Stellee.” She leaned her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes, letting out a big breath, trying to pretend she was anywhere else but here.

It was quiet for a few moments. Ryan would occasionally rub Stella’s arm. Since he wasn’t sure how far her reaction to the loss would take her, he treaded lightly. He didn’t know if she would react now or later, and he definitely didn’t want to come up on her breaking her hand through a wall.

“I’ve gotta go find Kayce.” Stella started to move restlessly before she got up.

“Yeah, but don’t you think he would want space?”

“If I know anything, space is the last thing his mind needs. And I know he hasn’t been home yet, so he doesn’t have Monica here. I can’t just sit by, Ryan.”

Ryan sighed. His little sister could be one of the most endearing people. If someone had a problem, she refused to let them carry it alone. He was worried one day her back might break.

“I’m gonna go back up to the big house. He’s probably still there.”

Now that the activity had quieted down, Stella poked her head in through the front door. She ran into Beth sitting in the living room, looking very much like she needed to catch her breath. When Stella entered the room she looked up from her long gaze.

“Funny how everyone else employed here knocks, except you. Why is that?” Stella breathed out a sigh at the accusation from Beth. She knew Beth was just in defense mode and didn’t mean to spit fire at her. They got along for the most part.

“Beth… I haven’t knocked on this door since I was 15. I wanted to come check on everyone.”

“There’s nothing to be done except wait for the plan. You know that. You came here to check up on my baby brother, didn’t you?”

“Well, he is my best friend. And you and I both know that being alone is something your brother doesn’t need right now.”

“And you thought you would swoop in and be his savior, huh?

“Not a savior. Just a shoulder.” Stella was getting frustrated.

“Beth, leave her alone.” Kayce’s voice came from behind them. He came from the hallway toward the back of the main sitting room. He nodded toward the porch and Stella did a 180 to make her way around. He placed a hand at the small of her back as he directed her to keep moving. There was a small zip up her spine at the contact. Her back tensed.

He wanted to get them both out of the room before his sister could spit more grief. Stella shook her head and squeezed Beth’s shoulder quickly as they walked by and back out the front door.

Kayce sighed. “I’m sorry about her.”

“You should know by now you don’t have to apologize for your sister. I would have been worried if she hadn’t responded like that.” They shared a chuckle.

Stella seated herself on one of the chairs by the little table. Kayce made himself comfortable in the other. They both gazed out at the vast ranch. They zoned out and let the silence embrace them. Today was chaotic for both of them, in different ways, but tiring nonetheless.

“How the hell did a feud about some cattle that wandered through a broken fence produce this end result? Like, how did we get here Kayce?” Stella was very confused. She hadn’t been on the ranch when the arguing had started about the cattle, land, and who owed the livestock.

“I mean, I understand that it’s a very tender subject about land and all, but…,” she didn’t really know how to continue. Thinking about it made her brain hurt. She sighed.

“My head is spinning too.”

Stella whispered. “Is it selfish if I say I’m glad you’re still here?” Stella adjusted her glasses as she moved her eyes away from him. It was quiet as both of them contemplated her question. Her admission. In a way it was selfish, but he understood the sentiment she was trying to get at.

“I’m not really up to talking just yet, Stell. After I come back for the —,” he halted trying to figure out how to avoid saying the word funeral, finally ignoring the word all together. “We can talk then, okay?”

“I understand.” She pushed her glasses up. “If you or Monica need anything, please let me know and I’ll get it to you guys with lightning speed. Okay? Even if you need someone to take little man for the day or something.” He gave her a look that only the two of them seemed to understand. They stood and bear hugged like their lives depended on it. She knew it would be a few days before he would actually talk. Stella would wait as long as he needed her to.

Neither of them let go for a short minute. They knew that once they did, cursed reality would set in again. For this short span they felt like they were kids again without a worry in the world.

Stella murmured softly, “I’m so sorry this happened,” as she released him from the hug. He nodded, giving her one last glance before he made his way back inside to gather his things to go home.

"Men and brethren, let me freely speak unto you of the patriarch David, that he is both dead and buried... " the Father's voice faded as Stella scanned the crowd of people that had come around for Lee’s service. Everyone from the ranch was there and accounted for amongst other people that knew the family. The only one missing was Kayce. Her eyebrows pulled together. She looked at Monica, and she gave Stella a quiet shrug. He couldn’t have been far. There’s also no way he would have missed his brother’s funeral. She tried to be nonchalant about looking around, but she made eye contact with Beth who gave her a pointed look with a raised eyebrow.

Stella rolled her eyes slightly and kept looking. Not far off she saw a horse that just stood in place. It wasn’t completely out of the ordinary, but from the looks of it, the horse was a mustang. In these particular hills of the ranch property, the most you would find would be a quarter horse if one got out of its designated pasture. Maybe an Appendix or two. No one, that she was aware of, had brought a horse with them today, however.

Just barely above the high grass up at the grave sites, she could see a dirty blond head move back and forth. There he was. She looked to Monica who nodded her permission and Stella silently exited the group. She knew that if anything, Lee would have wanted her to go over to his brother. Lee always joked that they were each other’s Huckleberry. Attached at the hip, and where one was the other was surely not far behind. Most certainly to “fuck some shit up, cause some chaos and leave” as Lee would have said.

Stella’s fond smile at the memory faded as she got closer and heard sniffling coming from Kayce. Her face softened and her heart bled for him. She sat down beside him. The horse paid her little attention, but snorted in acknowledgement and went back to grazing as she folded her legs beneath her. Kayce glanced at her from the side.

When he realized it was her, he turned slightly and made eye contact. Stella pulled her lips together in a small smile, and kept her eyes gentle. They simultaneously leaned toward each other, shoulders touching, as they looked forward. Stella reached over and rubbed his back.

She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him close sideways and rubbed his arm to offer any sort of comfort to him while they sat there. They both pretended that they were anywhere else, at any other event than his brother’s funeral. She couldn’t believe this had happened, and she felt helpless that she couldn’t change it or do anything to make the hurt less, other than what she was doing right now.

They both heard as the Father finished his sermon, but they remained seated. Even when Stella felt eyes on her back, she stayed. John surveyed the pair closely. That girl, well woman now, had been there through the thick of almost everything for his youngest son since she and her brother showed up on the ranch 12 years ago.

At first, John had been hesitant to have an extra child on the ranch. Especially with his new young wrangler being her parental figure. She turned out to be a great kid, who would pull her own weight and then some. He slowly started to come around to the idea when Kayce started to put up a fight for Stella and Ryan.

She also was the first to throw knuckles when anyone, or anything, came for his youngest. John would swear that she would throw herself in front of a bullet for Kayce. Hell, she threw herself in front of grizzly for him once. Evelyn would have liked her. John couldn’t even begin to think of ways to thank her for keeping Kayce grounded along with Monica’s help. He cleared his throat and came up beside the twosome.

“He's one hell of a horse.” They heard from Stella’s right as John seated himself next to the pair. Stella removed her arm from Kayce’s shoulders, but remained quiet. She wasn’t a part of this conversation.

Kayce sniffled at his dad’s words. “Yeah. Ain't got the breeding of your stud, but he has a heart.”

“I know. I saw.”

“He would have died for me. He almost did.”

John changed the subject. “You want to stay for supper? You can put him in the barn.”

Kayce sniffed loudly and stood. He carefully draped the lead rope over Stella’s lap and handed it to his father. “No. I brought him for you. You can put him in the barn.” She watched as he quickly left to catch up with his family.

“I can take care of him for you, sir.” Stella offered as they both stood.

John looked at her from behind his dark sunglasses and shook his head. “Thank you, Stella, but I’ll take this one up.” As he walked away with the horse, she pursed her lips to the side realizing she was alone. She looked back to the gravesite. She patted her legs trying to decide if she wanted to go back over. ‘By the time you’ve argued with yourself, you could’ve already done it.’ She rolled her eyes at herself and started walking over.

“Hey Lee. I’m so sorry this happened to you.” A little bird sang its song from high in a tree. Stella smiled sadly and fixed her glasses. She hoped it was Lee saying he was listening. She still hadn’t come to grips that he was gone.

“I’ll do what I can for the family, the ranch. To the best of my ability anyhow. Especially for Kayce. I know he was the favorite.” Stella forced herself to look at his place marker. “I guess you’ve left me no choice but to take over your spot as the lead for the horses. If your dad agrees to put me there.” It was a heavy decision, to choose to do nearly anything for the family. It could come with a hefty price tag, but the Dutton’s and the wranglers were all she and Ryan had.

She looked off to where everyone had gone and noticed Ryan was still waiting in the wings for her. “I should probably go catch up with everyone else, but I’ll be around again.” She brushed her skirt off and headed up to the big house on the hill. Everyone was invited for supper. She wasn’t about to turn down Gator’s food. Lee wouldn’t have wanted her to either.

After supper everyone had congregated outside to get some fresh air and talk amongst themselves. The wranglers had parted to one side and Stella stood next to her brother and Colby.

She could see John with Beth and Jamie. They stared off at the helicopter, speaking to each other quietly. Lloyd brought her attention back to the group when he asked her a question.

“I’m sorry, what Lloyd?”

“I asked if you were spendin’ the night, lil’ bit?” She yawned at the exact moment he asked.

“Yeah,” she laughed. “I probably should. I think my overnight bag from Olivia’s is still in my car.”

Comments, thoughts, and commentary is welcome! Just please be gentle lol. 🤓

#yellowstone #kayce dutton #luke grimes #ian bohen #ian bohen : ryan #kayce dutton fan fiction #yellowstone fanfiction #kayce dutton fanfiction #Steady Heart #SH Chapter One #finally lmao

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cinebration · 1 year

Text

Come Back To Me (Jack Russell x Reader) [Part 6]

Jack talks to Ted about you.

Tagged: @lucy-sky, @faeoftheapocalypse, @theconsultingdoctor10, @starfirette, @bitchyglitterfox, @thefandomqueenuno, @scarlettsoldier, @russell-ed, @xasement, @stand-with-cap, @marvelenthusiast10, @supermarvelgirl15, @mobiusismyfav, @killeromanoff, @hawkins-2000, @fangurldayandnight, @liv-victoriano, @randomchick546, @g1m2g3, @gingermous, @howlingco, @vynsvision, @jwjeepers, @rellasnowheenim, @yelenas-lova, @nyrovia, @littlenosoul, @allthingsvicf, @emiemiemiii, @lilyevans1

Warnings: mention of blood

Gif Source: ne8ula

“I know it’s a stupid idea,” Jack argued back, “but you should see her!”

Ted shook his head, a sound of disagreement rumbling in his throat.

Jack paced around the clearing, kicking up crunchy leaves with the toes of his boots. The first-quarter moon hung in the wide-open sky, stars twinkling in the velvet. A cool autumn wind kissed his cheeks and rang chilly fingers through his hair, sending pleasant shivers across his skin. Despite his agitation, Jack found himself calming as the natural world around him seeped into his bones.

“I saved her,” he muttered, more to himself than Ted, “and she came back!”

Ted grumbled.

“Okay, yes, she came back because she is looking for me, the werewolf, but she came back! I can’t just ignore this sign from the universe.”

Rolling his eyes, Ted offered another response.

Sighing, Jack scratched at his ear and sat down on the log beside his friend. “She doesn’t like her job, Ted. If I can just convince her to leave it—”

Ted snorted and shook his head.

“I’m serious! I know she just needs an excuse to leave.”

Ted didn’t bother verbally responding, letting his large eyes speak volumes with a look of skepticism.

Jack looked away. “I’m not saying that I can be the excuse, okay? I’m not saying that. But I think I can help her. That’s it!”

Ted rumbled.

“Well, yes, that, too. If I stay close to her, I can keep an eye on her investigation and make sure she doesn’t, you know, find out it’s me.” Before Ted could offer a rebuttal, Jack pushed himself off the log and resumed his pacing. “I know, I know, it’s dangerous! But this woman…” He paused, inhaling deeply as he stared up at the moon. “There’s a—a connection there. And no, it isn’t just because I saved her!”

Shrugging, Ted resumed playing solitaire with the jumbo cards laid out before him on the damp grass, the half-moon providing more than enough moonlight to see.

“Ay,” Jack muttered, clicking his tongue against his teeth. “It’s been a long time, Ted. It’s been a long time since…”

A sympathetic noise sounded in Ted’s throat.

“I know it’s dangerous,” he repeated, once more speaking to himself than to his friend. “It’s a stupid idea. But the universe put us in each other’s paths again. That has to mean something, no?”

The conviction that it most certainly did mean something burned brightly in Jack’s chest. He paced a while longer, enjoying the cool touch of the autumn air and the moonlight even as his mind raced. The full moon, a few days away, was already calling to him, working underneath his skin. The urge to howl tickled at the base of his throat.

Not least of all because there was a potential mate.

He swallowed thickly. Twenty-seven days, give or take, out of each month, he was a flesh-and-blood human, a full-grown man with years of experience under his belt. The wolf was a subdued part of him until those three pesky days when systems were necessary to keep it restrained. What little of the wolf that bled into his human life, he deftly managed.

Then why was he thinking of a mate?

Nostrils flaring at the thought, he buried his hands under his armpits, hoping Ted wouldn’t notice the change in him. The wolf felt closer than usual, sliding just under the surface. It had been ever since he had leaned over the hunter’s pit and seen you on the stake, staring up at him with hope and fear, both scents a heady mixture made all the more intoxicating by your spilled blood.

The protective instinct had snapped into place with so much force that Jack had almost leapt down into the pit without caring about the other spikes. It had taken excruciating self-control to speak to you in level tones and drop down into the hole.

Your relief at potential salvation had taken him out at the knees. What you had thought was common sense kicking in had actually been the inability to withstand the chemical-driven response to your emotions.

Recalling it, Jack shivered pleasantly, then immediately snapped at himself. You are first a man. The wolf does not control you.

Another shiver argued otherwise.

“Did I tell you I’m making her dinner?” His voice verged on strangled.

Ted nodded.

“I don’t know what, though. She really liked my huevos rancheros. Maybe she’ll appreciate more from my home country. What do you think?”

His friend shrugged.

“Oh, come on, you know what my cooking tastes like. Do you think I should do something else?”

Ted frowned, his rough brows furrowing. He rumbled an answer.

“Of course there will be meat.” Jack hesitated. “What if she’s a vegetarian? I didn’t think to ask!”

His friend growled.

“I asked if she was allergic to anything. That’s not the same question.” He scratched at his ear again, suddenly agitated. “She would have told me, no? When I mentioned dinner. She would have said. And she did eat the huevos.”

Ted made a statement.

“You’re right. Some vegetarians do that. Híjole, ¿qué voy a hacer?”

Turning over another card and placing it in the correct column, Ted made a suggestion.

Jack smiled. “You’re right. A little bit of both in case she is. See, this is why I came to you for advice.”

A sarcastic noise answered back.

Laughter barked out of Jack. “No, you’re not my only friend! I could have asked plenty of other people.”

Ted arched his brow.

“I could have! You should be happy I chose you.”

Snorting and rolling his eyes, Ted returned to his game. Beside him, Jack rubbed at his biceps, trying to work warmth back into the muscles. He tried to ignore the fact the chill wasn’t related to the weather as another not unpleasant shiver rolled through him.

#Jack Russell x Reader #Jack Russell #Jack Russell imagine #Gael Garcia Bernal x Reader #Gael Garcia Bernal #Gael Garcia Bernal imagine #Gael Garcia-Bernal x Reader #Gael Garcia-Bernal #Gael Garcia-Bernal imagine #Werewolf By Night #Marvel #MCU

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zellink · 5 months

Text

nearer, my god, to thee

a post-botw zelink fic. [ one-shot // 11k words // E-rated for sexual content ]

>> Read on AO3

Summary: Link finally understands that it isn’t him who has absorbed this kingdom into his bloodstream—it is the kingdom, it is her, and she is surrounding him, swallowing him whole. A tent in a forest, a summer night full of stars, and two people who have always been part of the wild.

Notes: Written as part of Zelink Hype Squad server's Hestu Gift Exchange 2023-24 for @spices28 ⭐️ Special thanks to @1up-girl and @mustardcheesedog for being such amazing betas. ✨

nearer, my god, to thee

Hyrule has always been a beautiful land.

Rolling hills that bleed into meadows. Verdant canopies of trees that shield and cover whatever creature that wanders beneath. Rivers that run wild into everywhere and nowhere, into seas that lead to places unknown. Mountains that seem to scratch the sky. Canyons that go so deep, one might think the core of the earth is visible from a bird’s eye view.

And Link, upon waking up from his long slumber, has laid his eyes on every inch of the land. Has seen it all through summer’s rage and winter’s wrath, underneath stone archways in front of mansions long gone, from behind overgrown vines that wrap around fallen citadels. He’s lost and found himself, time and time again, in the Lost Woods and the Hebra Mountains and the far-flung corners of Gerudo Desert. Has absorbed this land into his bloodstream until he becomes one with it, until he’s just another permanent fixture of the landscape—another mountain in Lanayru, perhaps. Or another river that flows through Faron.

But when all is finally said and done, and he has bled and bled in the bowels of the castle and in the field, and a golden light shines in the sky and descends gently onto the grass, he realizes, finds—

That there is just one more part of Hyrule that he hasn’t absorbed into himself at all.

And that part is living and breathing and sitting in the saddle atop her white stallion, riding alongside his brown mare. Her cheeks are flushed from the late summer’s heat. Her long blonde locks are blown back by the evening breeze, the top a little bit mussed up and the braids across her crown slightly loosened from the day’s hot journey eastward.

The urge to extend his arm outward and run his fingers through those tresses claws inside him.

He clenches at the reins a bit tighter instead.

They continue to ride.

To their right, Wetland Stable is all lit up for the night. Link has been there before, too. A few months ago, he slept in a cot underneath that very roof after he had chased down a particular landscape portrayed in an image on the Slate, hunting it all the way into the forest just across the river.

In the end, he had come out of it with a singed brow and an arm covered in burns—classic memento from the Guardians—and the haunting fragment of a memory from one hundred years ago, where the woman he ached to bring home had despaired and cried in his embrace, among the rainfall and the mud.

The woman’s voice is what slices through his thoughts.

“Gods, I’ve forgotten how muscles can ache from too much use,” Zelda says. “I think we should stop for the night and get some rest. What do you think?”

Link smiles at her. There is no mud nor rainfall on her face anymore—only a few beads of sweat that his fingers long to wipe away. “Yeah, I agree.”

“Shall we head to the stable, then?” she asks.

He turns his head to look at the stable again. It’s not especially crowded—Wetland Stable never is, unlike Riverside or Dueling Peaks—but he sees a few visitors sitting around the communal cook pot, sees some other patrons conversing with the stablemaster, and thinks that they’ve had their fair share of strangers’ eyes upon them for the past month in Hateno.

They’ll have more of that in their destination, too: Zora’s Domain is filled with people who know exactly who they are, beyond their unassuming appearance. People who know of the titles from their former lives, know of the hefty past that they carry upon their shoulders.

He wants to take her somewhere else. A place unknown to anyone else except for him. No prying eyes, no whispering mouths. Only boughs of trees overhead, the soft sloshing of water from leaping frogs, and the chirps of restless crickets.

Wants to share that piece of wilderness with her. Consume it together.

“There’s this spot in the cove of Crenel Peak,” Link says. “There’s a pond and a lot of trees and sometimes there are fireflies, too. We can pitch a tent and rest there.” He pauses. “If— if you want.”

Zelda’s lips curve into a smile—wide, dimpling her cheeks, and his heart twists and twists. “That sounds lovely, Link,” she replies. “Let’s go there, then.”

They change course, pulling at the reins to keep left on the dirt path, then turning at the intersection and heading a little further north. Past the quiet fields and open meadows and the unobstructed view to the castle—all black and gray and no wisps of crimson at all against the twilight sky—until they reach the base of Crenel Peak, where the hills part to reveal an opening to a tree-filled recess in the side of the mountain.

Link dismounts first, hitching his mare onto a trunk on the outskirts of the small forest before offering Zelda his hand—gloved palm facing up. He knows she’s more than capable of sliding off her stallion herself, but, well—he’d never pass up the opportunity to have her touch grace his skin. She takes it, and he feels her lean her weight onto his hand as she dismounts. Feels the warmth even through her glove, feels his blood rushing towards where their bare fingers meet.

When she lets him go to hitch her own steed, Link lets out a slow exhale through his mouth.

Blames his sudden breathlessness on the summer heat.

He unfastens their shared traveling pack and tent from their horses’ backs while Zelda takes the bedrolls. Lets muscle memory from a hundred years prior overtake his body because this—working together with her like clockwork, preparing themselves for a night in whatever pocket tucked away within the kingdom—is something even a long slumber can’t ever erase from him.

They walk further into the cove until they find a small clearing where the pond awaits, right at the base of the hill. He takes out the sheets of canvas and the poles, and begins pitching the tent. Assembles the poles, connects one end to another, then inserts each pole into its corresponding grommet. As he stakes the corners of the erected tent into the ground, he sees her build a fire in his periphery, steel against flint atop a bundle of wood. Orange sparks fly, and then their camp for the night is finally illuminated, ready for their rumbling stomachs and aching bodies.

And anything else that might unravel as the night progresses, a voice within him says, though he chides it, pushes it away.

Link unlaces the traveling pack and searches for some wooden plates and spoons. Fights off a smile from breaking across his face when his fingers brush over their tangled belongings—the clasp of his additional pair of pants catching the strap of her silk camisoles; her hairbrush that somehow got stuck to his robe.

Eventually, he finds those wooden plates and spoons.

He sets the utensils atop a nearby tree stump, places a cook pot on the fire, and says, “I think there’s plenty of mushrooms around. Do you want stew or skewers?”

Zelda purses her lips, mulling over his question, and something warm shoots through his nerves as if it’s the very first time he’s uttered such a question to her in this century. He supposes he should start getting used to this—asking mundane questions about nothing, about everything. Where to stay for the night, what to have for dinner.

“Skewers would be better, I think,” she replies as she settles on a fallen log in front of the fire. Gives her sweaty forehead a cursory wipe with the back of her hand. “It’s too hot for a stew, don’t you think?”

Oh, he really could get used to this.

“Yeah, skewers sound good.” He smiles at her.

So Link spends the next ten minutes foraging for Hylian mushrooms around the area, putting each that he has picked into a cloth bag Zelda had fashioned out of his worn shirt back in Hateno. In the end, he’s gathered enough mushrooms (and some Hyrule herbs, too) to feed six: one portion for her, three for him, and two for leftovers that can serve as a light lunch tomorrow for the rest of the journey to Zora’s Domain.

He returns to the cook pot, procures the jars of oil and crushed rock salt from their pack, and begins cooking their dinner. Pouring a little bit of oil, then hovers his hand above the pot, gauging the heat before pouring all the picked mushrooms into it. He stirs and stirs with a wooden spoon, trying his damndest not to look her way too much lest he makes a mistake and burns himself on the hot iron.

(But then any burn or cut is worth it when it’s for her.)

Once the mushrooms are cooked through, Link realizes that he doesn’t have the wood sticks, so he serves the food in the bowl and hands it to Zelda.

“This is just… a bowl of cooked mushrooms,” he says, bashful. “Don’t actually have the sticks to skewer them. Sorry.”

A laugh bursts from Zelda. “That’s no problem, Link,” she says, grinning. “I don’t think we would be eating the wood sticks anyway,” she adds, before reaching for the bowl from his hands. Covering his fingers with hers, pressing slightly before taking it away.

His breath becomes ragged in an instant, though he knows how to quickly regain his composure, because it has happened many, many times before. In Hateno, in their shared home and on the streets and every place in between. A lingering touch here and there, fire through his veins. The air turning heavy each time, but holding themselves back as they ride out the initial shock of being alive together in this century, as they parse through their grief and loss and shared wounds.

But now they are outside and there’s a certain lightness that percolates through him that he knows hasn’t been there in ages, and they are alone together—so alone—and he knows it will snap.

It’s just a matter of when.

So he shoots another smile at her and goes to serve a bowl for himself. Settles on the log next to her—the side of his thigh touching hers all the way to their knees. Feeling his skin sizzle even through the fabric of his breeches. Eats and eats with barely any words exchanged because their shared silence is as natural as breathing. When they break it, it’s for her to comment on his talent of making even just mushrooms seasoned with salt and herb taste good, and he replies with thanks and heat rising on his cheeks.

It doesn’t take long for them to finish their meals. It has been quite a long day, after all.

He takes the bowl from her and washes their dishes by the pond as she takes their pack inside the tent, fastens the flaps together, and changes into her sleepwear. With a rag he scrubs and scrubs the grime off the cook pot, averting his thoughts to anything else other than the sound of fabric rustling from beyond that layer of canvas, which proves futile anyway.

It’s painfully familiar, because he knows he’s been here before, regardless of the scantness of his memories. He’s felt this so often, if not always. A century ago, in other places, bearing skin with fewer scars but one that still aches to touch her all the same.

With everything cleaned, he sets them on the same nearby tree stump to dry. Takes a deep, deep breath, then takes his bedroll and pulls at the laces to unfurl it atop the grass, in front of the tent.

Link stares at it for a while, just as he has done for the past three weeks—the same bedroll set on the floor beside the bed in their home. Imagines two bodies atop it instead of just one, pictures two sets of limbs searching for one another and tangling and joining. Swallowing those images down his throat, where they sear until they settle inside his stomach, dormant and docile, before they come up into his mouth again the next night. Over and over and over, because he knows that they have all the time in the world now and all that’s left to do is wait.

And he intends to swallow them all down and wait again tonight, though something in his gut tells him that maybe, just maybe, the trees and the open sky overhead might catalyze a bolt from the blue.

There’s more rustling from inside the tent, so Link decides to distract himself by undoing his baldric and belts, taking off his gloves, carefully setting the Sword against a tree, and then sitting down and unfastening the leather vambrace from his right forearm. Then it’s the patterned strip of cloth that he peels off from his arms, unwrapping, unraveling, until he’s only in his Champion tunic with the cotton shirt underneath, his pants, and his boots.

As he sets his protective leathers aside, Zelda comes out from the tent with her cream-colored nightgown finally wrapped around her figure—loose and sleeveless, with the thin straps hanging on her shoulders and the hem falling down to her mid-calves.

The sight knocks all the air out of his lungs.

Then his eyes settle on her face and he notices the furrow between her brows.

“Why are you setting the bedroll outside?” Zelda asks.

Link gulps. “I’m here to keep guard.”

Funnily enough, even he can hear the slight question mark that follows that sentence.

Zelda actually appears surprised by his reply. “From what? Hot-footed frogs?”

“There were bears here before,” he feigns obliviousness. “When I found this place the first time around.”

“Which I’m sure you’ve dealt with since I don’t see or hear them anywhere,” she says. There’s something fond in those emeralds of hers, like she understands exactly the predicament he’s found himself in because she’s in the thick of it, too—in the knowing and not-knowing, wanting to end it in the most perfect way possible—softly, gently.

“I’d like to keep watch with you, too, then.” A shy smile forms on her lips. “If you need the additional set of eyes, that is.”

Link knows she isn’t talking about bears anymore, knows that she knows he doesn’t need the additional set of eyes, because protecting her comes as natural as the blinking of his eyes, as inherent as his fingers around the indigo hilt of the Sword.

He doesn’t need the extra guard; he just needs her.

“Of course,” Link replies.

>> Continue reading on AO3

#now off i go to lose my mind working on my longfic #my fic #zelink #botw zelink #zelink fic #zelink fanfiction #botw fic #botw

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