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aemysbabyofficial · 2 months

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Sweet Sixteen II; Aemond Targaryen x Targaryen!OC

To be a father is to live and sacrifice. What would Daemon live to sacrifice? To leave behind and never return to--to never regret with second thoughts. The answer: his last daughter.

Warnings: cannon divergence; paternal anger; father angry towards daughter; hints of paternal violence; hints of violence; choking; heavy angst; manipulation; hints of sex; highly emotional.

Notes: Apologies for the long wait, life hit me like a truck. If you liked this or wished it to be edited up or down, please tell me! This is a heavy read (it was a heavy write for me) but I hope you all enjoy this!

Long chapter ahead!

The summons arrived on a cool morning on Dragonstone. The raven knew all were fast asleep sole for one. Cold air rushed through Daemon's nose and up to his mind as he stood next to an open window. A knight had just left his quiet chambers, leaving him in a robe with a sealed letter in hand. Daemon was written on the cover in fine letters. Each letter was straight, curved in the right places, and perfectly in line with the one before and after.

It hadn't been long since he received word from his brother, or in this such a case, his court. It had actually not been long since he last visited King's Landing. He could count by hand the weeks that passed since he last roamed his former home. The king's second daughter, Helaena, was betrothed to her older brother Aegon and as a good tiding for the girls in the family, the king invited his nieces for some bonding with the dreamer girl. Daemon was surprised Viserys held the dear such an occasion, but his eyes felt the ink's deeper meaning just from the greeting.

Dearest brother...

A preparation. A warning. Daemon wiped his nose before he moved to the next line. The hallways of Dragonstone were quiet and the children were slumbering away in their chambers. His wife lay in their bed, under the sheets and furs to keep the breeze from fanning her skin. Daemon needed the fresh morning light to read the letter clearer, to see all the meanings within the lines. His hand gripped the parchment the further his eyes descended, burned brighter as he pulled apart double meanings and hidden phrases. He glazed past the introductions and greetings and dove to the heart of the letter--the biggest paragraph of them all. His breathing grew ragged when the mention of her spilled across the letter.

....The Princess Helaena requests the presence of Lady Saela Targaryen as a lady-in-waiting for her highness court. The Princess recounts fond memories she shared with the Lady and wishes her sweet presence in her everyday to be permanent. All servants, dressings, and accommodations lay prepared for the Lady's arrival....

It was a surprise. A bold move, Daemon complimented with raised brows. But it involved his daughter, his youngest daughter. Saela was still a child hiding behind her sister's shadows, lapping against her cousins' steps, and a growing woman. From what the Maesters whispered and he forced from a handmaid, she just flowered. Daemon crinkled his nose at the thought.

Why demand his youngest child among his three?

The letter, no, the summons demanded Saela's presence in the next seven days. It emphasized the great joy and happiness the princess Helaena would feel to have her favorite niece by her side. No other daughter was to attend on her behalf.

Bullshit.

A croaky laugh cracked through the room. Daemon's chest rose with sputtered laughs and his fingers pinched his alert eyes. A wry smile stretched the corners of his lips upwards. It was too late for him to switch out Saela for one of her sisters. The days where the girls could switch places and act as the other passed long ago; the twins even grew into unique features that stood them apart from each other.

Not Helaena. Daemon shook his head. That girl could not craft such a demand. The queen.

When Daemon visited last, his daughters joined him. The three-and-a-half day travel on boat was the same duration of their stay. While the girls bonded over tea, gowns, and childish talks, Daemon joined his brother every second he could. In his free time, which was limited, he would peek into side rooms, the gardens, or separate chambers to check on his daughters. Three times out for five, Daemon spotted Saela attached to Helaena's side while Alicent loomed over them. A whisper past Baela revealed the Queen had requested all of Saela's time that day and the previous.

"She calls for her after breaking our fast." Rhaena confided to her father on their third morning. She had just caught him before he departed for a meeting. Her speech was breathy--she ran--and her eyes bled into his soul. "And she just watches her."

Daemon hadn't much time to think about Rhaena's words before he marched into the council chambers. Men dressed in their house colours either stood around the table or sat waiting for their cups to be filled. Deep laughter rolled from one fat lord as he motioned to the King with his head.

"The boy is of age, isn't he? Aegon, isn't it. It is about time he takes a wife."

"And who would that be?" Another lord across the fat one asked. Daemon marched closer to hear their voices clearly, but halted when he heard names drop against the table.

"To keep the blood pure, won't his sister be the best choice? Or how about his cousins?"

It was then when Viserys realized his brother's presence and what the lord to his far right was talking about. The King didn't need another second to decipher the emotions across his face--anger, confusion, dying tolerance. Marrying off one his daughters could help their sad hearts after tragedy, but by the look of their father, Viserys knew not now, or, now ever. With a wave of his hand, he shushed all talk. He didn't a man leaving his a broken nose, animosity for a Targaryen, or dead.

When Daemon found his daughter later that day, the queen stood behind her with arms wide and eyes twinkling.

In his room with the letter, Daemon had time to think whilst Rhaenyra kissed him on the shoulder. Did dawn pass by so fast? The prince casted a glance to his wife skimming her eyes across the letter. The furrow of her brow marked she got the same place to.

"Are you going to do it?" Her brows raised in question. Are you going to send your youngest child to a den of vipers?

Daemon let his mind wander into dark clouds at the thought of leaving his daughter here. Laena left him with three children--girls, the realm's mightiest tools in times of diplomacy and wagers. Were he to leave one under his brother's nose, Sweet Old Saela, no one would blink an eye. She was the sweet, quiet child. He already has twins, leaving him still with the weight of raising girls. Saela was the perfect child, always abiding to rules and governance. Slip her a note on what to do, the girl will be a man's best soldier. Whisper her a scolding and she will bend her every value not to mess up again. Hells, when he begged his daughters to stop crying at a dinner one evening, Saela never talked for the rest of the night.

A soldier?

The fact Rhaenyra has a younger living brother threatened her established claim as heir. No one had to say it out loud: a son was all the king wanted, and even if his daughter stood in line behind him. A son would rally much more support than a woman with the Conqueror's crown.

Daemon cocked a brow. Saela could be his soldier, his extra eye in the Keep. While he converged his forces on Dragonstone, Saela would stay there, cozying up with his brother's wife. She was never the girl who liked rolling in mud or dallied in listening to Council meetings. No, she deserved the best linens and gowns and court. The girl could act as his extra pair of personal eyes and ears. She could get under her skin, worm her way into her mind. The prince knew no one stood a chance against his daughter's smile. She inherited from her mother. With Saela submerged into the Green mess that spilled across his home, Daemon needn't worry about a thing.

Saela would be his perfect soldier.

"I will." Daemon nodded. Rhaenyra peeked at the glint in his eyes.

That night following dinner, Saela cried at the news, but nevertheless prepared for the trip. Her sisters begged for her to stay, but as Daemon predicted, Saela took on her mission without complaint with an I will be fine. In their last pure moments together, Daemon prepared his mighty soldier for the battle she would face ahead. He knew she was prepared. Her emotions were in check beyond her years and she hadn't lived in Dragonstone for too long to grow too attached to the palace or its grounds. Unlike Baela or Jacaerys who obsessed over flying, Saela was a novice in comparison to them--her dragon had barely hatched and refused to show signs of flight.

The skin of a father was shed for Daemon to bare the armour of a soldier. For hours past the hour of the owl, he drilled passages and commands to Saela--from dining, to walking, to presenting her head. She was going to leave her home a measly girl and enter the capital, her arena, her battlefield, as an armed soldier and mighty weapon.

And a soldier Daemon saw his Saela become. When she greeted them for their tea, she stood tall, unwavering under his eyes, and proud. She nearly resembled the frigid woman Rhaenys became. Whenever he caught sight of her, Saela was the paradigm of his success--of her upbringing under him, trained knowledge of note-passing, and dining with the enemies. Daemon knew out of all his daughters, Saela won't crumble easy.

She overcame her mother's death faster than her sisters and won't let a thing brother her. To Daemon, she was mentally stronger in keeping her emotions and personal life out of politics or power moves.

His girl even overcame the disaster that was that dinner announcing new betrothals. Whereas Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Baela sprung for Aegon and Aemond, Saela was quiet. Like he, she calculated the scene next to Helaena. But where she had gone with her aunt, Daemon had not the slightest clue. The cool ocean air fanned his skin while he walked through the exposed halls of the Keep. The wine, unbridled emotions, and lack of sleep for some riled everyone out of the dining hall to separate corners of the castle. To keep his mind at peace, Daemon walked the paths above the garden to feel the clouded moonlight fan him.

Rhaenyra, before he departed their chambers, planned to cut their trip short and haul the family back to Dragonstone the following morning. The short notice gave him little time to make sure Saela was all right. Rhaenyra knew better. To make sure her allegiance is all right, to her, or her father.

"Where is my daughter?" Daemon asked a passing knight. His voice rose barely above a murmur. The dark-haired man shrugged his shoulders and tumbled out an I'm not aware.

After their meals, it was their own tradition to find each other hiding in secret passages. It was a game Daemon introduced to Saela a random night. (He and Laena had argued over something trivial and he was bored for once). One night each, either he or Saela would rush out following their meal and hide in any place that would fit them. Spots ranged from false walls, behind hanging banners, inside knights armours, to underneath the biggest skirt one could find. Every time an argument broke out or someone got in trouble and just breathing was a challenge in the hall, Daemon and Saela would whisk themselves out to play their game.

The idea Saela was playing again struck something cold and dull in Daemon's heart. She had escaped under his nose and was hiding all-too well.

To a passing handmaid, he asked the same thing. Two girls carrying basins of water quickly shook their heads. "If not in her chambers, she must be in the gardens, my prince."

Daemon hadn't bothered to give the servants another word before he marched to the nearest staircase. He had just descended the stairs when he saw her. Saela's head and her tightly-wound bun of silver curls rested on the shoulder of a woman. No, a handmaid. Two walked on either side of her, locked in arms with their backs to him. His practiced steps were silent against the stone path. Even though his daughter and her servants were several paces ahead, none would hear him.

So, she's not playing the game, but going for a walk.

In his silence, Daemon planned what to say. Hello, dear daughter. My good soldier. Have you kept those notes from years ago? Where I told you to watch and listen?

A wry smile cracked his face as he practiced. "I hope all is, my good daughter--"

"Stop."

Daemon froze.

"What is wrong with you?"

Saela had turned a corner before speaking to someone. The prince rose a brow as he prowled to the corner. He was about to step out and draw a weapon at the sound of a threat, but he quickly retreated.

"You just had to open your mouth? The boy is ten-and-five, a child!" Saela's voice seethed. Daemon narrowed his brows when the voice spoke clearer. Louder. It burned his blood when he matched the tone and depth of the man Saela talked to.

"He is a fool and a bastard." Aemond scoffed. Daemon didn't have to see his face to calculate the prince's anger.

"A boy, Aemond! He is a child, a fool, nothing he speaks is serious. Why did you let that...Lucerys get to you like that?"

Saela raised her voice before covering her mouth. Aemond's frame hid the girl from Daemon's sight, but he could see the One-Eyed cradle his daughter's face. In plain sight for anyone to see were Saela and Aemond talking like lovers. It took every muscle in Daemon not to laugh, or to scream. The glances Saela failed to hide at dinner made sense. Her hidden smile behind her cup. The twitch in her lips.

Why? Daemon asked himself, both to why Saela's and his own actions. Why did she react to Aemond like that and why didn't he confront them? Why was she allowing him to hold her, to whisper to her, to invade her space and not--

"The dinner..."

Daemon hadn't meant to whisper out into the night, but light clouds of his breath floated in the air above his lips. His mind pulled him back an hour ago, before the mess of drinks spilled and food wasted his brother left behind. Saela and Aemond watched each other lasciviously across the long table. Over their cups, as they cut their food or talked with the person on their right, they somehow managed to eye the other down. To calm his mind from jumping from his skull, he fooled himself into not believing what he saw. But he was a boy once--a man now--and could pick at the signs of lust. As he drank wine to calm the storm in his mind, Daemon could see Aemond undress his daughter with his one eye; he licked at her exposed chest and laughed at her open neck. In the moments he felt like hurling his meal or flipping a table, Daemon drank himself silly.

The drunk he wished for pooled to nothing now.

"What can I do to make it up to you, hmm?" Aemond hummed against Saela's skin. Although Daemon looked at the pair, his mind buffered in registering their actions. The fact Saela smiled as Aemond frisked his hands around her was like a dart to his glass mind.

No. Daemon looked away. Saela wouldn't allow herself a second to fall for a man like that. A crippled second-son would do nothing for Saela. She deserved someone stronger, fiercer, and--

"You don't get to kiss me."

Daemon straightened at his daughter's words. Kiss? Who is his daughter kissing? When he peered around the corner, his body tensed. Aemond had Saela pinned to the Keep's cold walls with one hand on her cheek and the other caressing her thigh. The handmaidens backs faced him, allowing him total freedom to see Aemond fondle Saela's skin between her legs. Although she disallowed Aemond entrance into her with her words, her hands toyed his hair and her lips ghosted his red cheeks.

"Do you know how much stress I've dealt with by myself?"

Saela's voice went soft, but it ached with raw pain. She spoke only for Aemond to hear. The prince muted the racing of his heart to hear his daughter's confession, but all he could see were her lips flapping and hear the tough drags of her nose. Whatever Saela revealed to Aemond warranted her a kiss. The sound of lips smacking made Daemon cringe. He slammed his back to the wall. Between the wet kisses, pants, and shuffles of fabric, Daemon picked up a few words and phrases.

"....Ilaena was horribly, sick, Aemond." Another kiss. Daemon noted the hard knot between her brow.

"..red in the face.." Kiss on the neck.

"...you didn't bother asking if she..." a loud moan soared from her lips. "Helaena and Alicent were the only ones to..."

The unbuckling of a belt and light laugh set Daemon off. "I'll make it up to you, my love." The One-Eyed Prince laughed in the night. In the dark, he saw red. The raging thump of his heart broke his eardrums, muting him to the moans around the corner. It took everything in him not to spear Aemond with Dark Sister. The sensual cry from Saela chased the prince away.

His boots stomped holes into the ground as he marched down the hall. If a knight or simple handmaid crossed the wrong path at the wrong time with him, their shoulders bore wounds of their collision. Daemon couldn't care less about a whining annoyance. All he could focus on were the shadows he saw dance outside; their hushed voices, kisses, and pants fogged his mind harsher than any storm. This itself was a storm, the hardest he faced both on land and on dragonback.

No guard stopped Daemon from pushing his way into Saela's bedchamber.

He waited. Without making a sound, or even a breath, the bedchambers were lifeless. It was like Daemon never stood in the middle of it all. Proof of his existence was the fire. The fact he could feel it proved his life at that moment was true--that what he witnessed was true. The crackling of wood reminded the prince his hearing was perfect. It told his mind he could not misjudge a thing, even if wished it was wrong.

Daemon's eyes glossed to life when the door opened. The hushed giggling erupted into frigid gasps. Saela must have jumped when she noticed him.

"Wait here," she said to two other voices.

"Leave." Daemon commanded. The hand holding the wrist behind his back clenched his skin worse than any chains or armor. The figures at the door made no move to leave. Either they were confused or they wished to meet his blade.

"I said leave."

"No, they can stay." Saela whispered something to the women. Palina, Arah. The names echoed in Daemon's mind. It dawned on him when he finally recognized who they were. In a letter addressed to him right after Saela settled into the Keep, she told him of the handmaidens assigned to her.

Palina and Arah are at my beck and call...it is fun having maids at your command. Now I know how you feel with your soldiers.

The same handmaidens she wrote about years ago were still at her side? Daemon lodged the thought deep into his skull. His shoulders squared straight when he stood tall. He hadn't turned around, but could see and feel the contemplation dancing on the women's faces.

"Defy me again and I'll slit your throats. Leave."

Not even the fire could cool Daemon's skin when the moans and kisses echoed in his mind. His lip curled at the smacks he heard, at the licks and spits he could feel across his skin. The slam of the chamber doors reaped the man from his nightmares.

"You didn't have to chase them away like that. They are loyal servants." Saela sighed before moving towards her father. He heard her smooth down her gown, probably rumpled from the mess she was in. "I wasn't expecting you so late, father. Is there something you want to talk about?"

Daemon needed time to breath. His back heaved with a heavy weight and his mouth dried before he could speak.

"Where were you?"

"For a walk. Did you want to come along--"

"With whom?" Daemon heard Saela move. Side steps, a nervous dance. She rubbed her hands against her gown with a long breath.

"With Palina and Arah--"

"You call your servants by name? What are they, your friends?" The shadow haunting Daemon's frame reigned over Saela's against the stone wall. The flames from the fire could be his own, heaved from his tongue.

"They are lovely girls, father. We are not far in age--"

"Do you think me a fool, Saela?" Daemon moved to feel the fire against his back. His head teetered down while his gaze bore to the left at his youngest daughter. "Why would a lady like you go for a walk at this hour?"

Saela's chest rose high. The chain around her neck tightened. It was a rope of Daemon's lashes tightening around her neck. Slowly and steadily did it rise to choke her.

"T-that is what--"

"I know you are smarter than this, Saela. Why would you do this to yourself?"

The tone in the prince's voice fell to a sympathetic level. He sounded sad, mournful, even. His shoulders fell when his body finally turned to face his child. He wanted her to see him downed, to see his pain. He wanted her to know he knew and she could do nothing but admit it. He wanted to hear it from her.

"Why would allow someone like that to do that to you?"

Saela felt her eyes sting. Her father had that power over her, hurting her eyes before anything else. It was only him that could make her cry before she felt the heavy pain in her chest. It was only Prince Daemon that scared her so much she couldn't breathe.

What he said tore through her. How could she let him do that to her? The Heart of the House, her uncle, the king, would call her. The sweet Heart that everyone adored, everyone thought pure, allowed something so vile inside her. She allowed herself to be tainted by a dark hole everyone tried to cover, to shield--no, to ignore. The last of Prince Daemon's daughters, the girls that would honor their father with honorable acts, was the most dishonorable of all.

All those thoughts swamped Saela's mind until she was breathless, crying mess. Her father was a blur of black leather and silver details, a monster she couldn't understand nor defeat. Saela could only bare herself honestly in front of the soldier that stared her down.

"How old?"

"W-what?" Saela was breathless, her voice airy and shaky. Faith in her voice crashed to the ground when Daemon towered his head over her own. She had to brace her muscles to not let her body drop.

"How old were you when he--"

Daemon bared his teeth. He couldn't finish the question nor formulate the words on his tongue. Claimed you. Fucked you. Took advantage of you. Tormented you. The words spat around in his mind, assaulting him from all angles and it could have made the man sick. But he stomached it down and shook his head. As a father, the thought of asking his daughter when she was deflowered sickened him. Why should he, a man of his stature, ask a lady--his daughter, at that--such a question?

"How old were you, Saela?"

The way Daemon spoke her name scared the girl into confession. It was fatherly, courageous, or kind. It reeked of grimace, of...of disgust.

He thinks me disgusting.

The girl silently balled as she answered. "Three-and--" The deep chuckle Daemon let out from the depths of his throat silenced Saela's whispered words. Of every conversation she imagined, this way, this manner, never came to mind. Saela never wished to spill her life's truths and secrets to her family like this, shrunken in a cowardice, crying mess.

"P-please father, don't--"

"Don't what? Don't kill him?"

"Please, no!" Saela screamed. Her watery eyes noted her father's light touches to Dark Sister. She knew her shaking bones and crumpled gown were Aemond's only defense between life and sudden death. "Please, don't hurt him."

"Why? Do you love him?" Daemon to hear it. Hear the name. Hear her guilt.

The mind of the Targaryen girl spiraled. After everything--her new life in court, building a new life with her cousins, growing close to allied and enemy houses, building her own life--it came crashing down in one night. No lie, no distraction, no escape was offered to her.

"He is using you, Saela, for his own selfish needs. He does not love you, no one here does. No one will ever truly appreciate you here."

Saela's fingers dug themselves into her sleeves. Spools of lace trickled to the floor as she cried. No one will ever truly appreciate you here. But they do, Saela yelled at herself. When her one and only family left her in King's Landing she visited a handful of times, Helaena, Alicent, Aemond, and even Aegon took her in as family. Come nights she dreamed of her mother's vanishing hand, Alicent was there to rub her back and sing her songs. Come days she missed dragon riding with her sisters or walking the mountains with the Velaryon boys, Aemond and Aegon joined her without tell.

Daemon watched time pass through his daughter's eyes and he shook his head. "Do you truly believe they love you?"

"W-why would you...?" Saela couldn't lift her head.

Were all the times she spent dancing, embroidering, reading, sleeping, and playing with Helaena and Alicent a lie? No. They love me. Helaena and Alicent replaced the times she lost with her sisters and mother.

And Aemond. O, the prince was her shield from days she remembered horror times. He was the saving hand that pulled her from nightmares--when she lost her mother and the brother she never got to know. He shielded her from nightmares and dances of attitudes. Aemond was still the boy she found in the library in Driftmark that would listen to her ramble--still the boy that protected her mind from thoughts of darkness and doom.

Aemond was the bed her tightened heart and head could explode on.

"I...I..."

"What, Saela?" Daemon narrowed his eyes. Past the tears, tear stains, and messy hair, he could see growing fires in his daughter's eyes. They were flames of resolve and passion. They were flames he had to snuff out. "Don't you say--"

"I love him, father. I love Aemond and you cannot do a thing about it."

She said it. Silence fell between the pair. A mixture of sneer and grin crossed Daemon's face. It resembled a dragon's smile before it devoured its prey. The look on her father's face revealed the rage he didn't shame himself in hiding. Saela caught the lighting of a wildfire when she caught her breath. It was too late.

"I...no..."

Saela felt her heart beat slower and slower. I said it and Daemon waited for me. Her body didn't realize it shook in the presence of dragon's flames. She shook her head before she could say another word.

"You love fucking Aemond Targaryen?" Saela jumped at the tone of her father's voice. "Why? Because he's your cousin? Because he fucks you in the garden for everyone to see?"

He saw. The girl's stomach dropped. Everything she's done in the past years to perfect her secret were ruined once her family came back into her life. The shell Alicent crafted around her, for her, as a second mother, cracked with every yell Daemon released. Then something festered within her. A toil of anger and resentment. How dare he lie to me? Her life was perfect. Walks with her cousins were always lovely. Long walks with her uncle where they talked about everything he could remember filled her life's missing gaps. Only now that her sisters, father, and step-brothers enter her home, her life, everything she's created is slowly come to ruin.

"Tolī mirre eman gaomagon..."

Saela closed her eyes with a long sigh. Her hands covered her face as she shook her head. Daemon stepped closer to hear her words, but she side-stepped him to pace her room.

After all I have done.

"What?" Daemon cocked a brow. His shoulders twitched.

"So now you care about me? Now, after all these years, you think to care about what I'm doing or who I'm with."

As Daemon peered over his daughter, he lost sight of her. Yes, she stood in front of him, but she wasn't crying or apologizing like she always would have. This wasn't the Saela who would wipe her face and vow to never disobey her father again. No, the woman in front of him bore tears of anger. The previous knot between her brows fell and she stood tall to match his height.

"In this house, these people were the only ones to stand by my side. I know they care about me--"

"I am your father, Saela. I know they don't care about you--"

"Shut up!" The girl screamed in defiance. It was a child's way of building their truth, but as an adult, Daemon could crush it. He saw the plans in her mind race when she shook a hand.

"I said not a word when you married Rhaenyra. I said not a word when you took in Jace and Luke and Joffrey as your own. I was the nice daughter and accepted them as my brothers."

"This has nothing to do with--"

"I said nothing when Rhaena cried to me saying you ignore her! I said nothing when--"

"You are not listening, Saela!" Daemon marched forward. His chest bumped the woman back, but she didn't stumble.

"I didn't say anything after mother died and you married her--"

"He is your cousin!"

"And she is your niece!" Saela screamed. Sweat crawled across their skin in the room. Be it fatigue, wine from earlier hitting them, or unresolved tensions from the years, neither Daemon nor Saela took a step back.

"Have we not fulfilled our family's fucked-up customs?" Daemon lowered his chin at the exasperated sigh. He leaned his head forward so his eyes could level Saela's wide stare back at him. Her body didn't shake anymore and if he didn't seethe in a cloud of anger, would have admired his daughter for the strength she carried. "You settle your cock deep into your niece's cunt while I warm up by cousin's bed. We are pure-blooded Targaryens, father--"

"Shut your mouth."

Daemon hadn't raised his voice, but the bass of his tone silenced Saela. Her mouth wavered shut, but her eyes burned with thousands of unsaid words. A scratching quiet surrounded the pair, forcing them for words. The crackling of the heat had died in comparison to their ferocity.

Saela cracked an odd smile before she bowed her head. When she looked up, it didn't reach her eyes for miles.

"Was she not eight-and-ten when you claimed her in a brothel?"

Red burned in Daemon's eyes. All he saw was blood rushing through his vision.

"Aemond had the dignity of a man to fuck me lovingly in his chambers."

Daemon's blood boiled higher than any power. No wine or ocean could muddle or cleanse his brain. HIs mind didn't react to his body moving across the cold floor. The prince's eyes were nothing but drops of black as they stared down at Saela choking. His grip around her throat was loose enough for her to breath freely but tight enough his fingers brushed each other around her neck. His other hand was raised but frozen in the air.

When Daemon blinked next, Saela was crying and his hands dropped without question. In front of her was a dragon, not a man. Heat of dragon's flame burned around her neck so much, she cringed at the burn, then laughed.

What stood before Daemon wasn't his daughter. It was a creature from another world. Possessed, a Maester would say. Magic, a skeptic would claim. This is not Saela. Daemon's brow fell, his heart dropped, and corners of his mouth ached. His daughter that would laugh at his failed jokes and dance with her sisters whenever she could was gone. The person before him had her face, but not her soul.

"You are no more clean than I am, father."

In slow waves, the girl walked away. Backward steps forced him to watch her face morph from laughing to a blank slate. Step. Step. Step. Her hands braced each furniture she bumped into, but she never turned away. Slowly, slowly, creepily, Saela's face turned again and Daemon could see her return. The dying flames calmed her mind to understand the madness she unleashed in her chambers. The wandering of her eyes and quick rise of her chest simmered whatever heat and anger she reached for. Before she could fall onto the couch, Saela whipped around to wipe her face.

It was now Daemon remembered he was a father. Her father.

"Who is Ilaena?"

Saela stopped short of the door. Daemon let his arms hang by his sides after relaxing his shoulders. He hadn't realized the knot he forced his body in until he felt like melting into a pool of body mass. Daemon asked again when silence was delivered with his daughter's back.

"A-a friend." Saela drew back snot.

The lie was a thick as a morning yawn. Daemon heard the gasp she let out when he spoke the name and could hear the hesitance Saela spoke with.

"Iksan aōha kepa." I am your father.

A reminder to them. Second by second, Daemon's voice warmed to the tone he always spoke to her with. It was like the dragon from before never existed, never threatened her. He spoke like he was never disgusted by her.

“I am a father and husband, Saela. Who is--"

"Some call her a whore." The little voice trembled. It was muffled between Saela's frame and the thick doors, but it bounced to Daemon's ears.

"The Lannister's say the vow to Rhaenyra wasn't made by them...House Wylde would suck a man's cock if anything..."

Saela sniffled, but the end of her words hinted at a laugh. Her voice no longer had the edge from earlier--the venomous bite Daemon worried he would catch. It resembled the call of a small child who raced for her father. The girl reached up as she spoke, but could never reach the hand that pulled back from her.

"But it's Otto who, who masters everything."

The heavy chamber doors slammed behind Saela after her confession, leaving Daemon in her cold chambers. In the dim silence, his body melted to the floor. The girl he hugged tightly years ago that one fateful night was unrecognizable just now. The sweet child he sent instructions and guides became something he never imagined. Saela became a soldier--a woman obedient to order, instruction, and command. She now joined the war that consumed their family but Daemon wasn't sure which side she fought for.

His Sweet Saela was a girl no more, but a woman cracked, and soldier worn.

Taglist: @malfoycassimalfoy

#hotd #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x oc #aemond targaryen x targaryen!oc #aemond targaryen x saela targaryen #house of the dragon x oc #hotd x oc #hotd angst #house of the dragon angst #sweet saela #house of the dragon fanfic #hotd fanfic #aemond targaryen x reader

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vampdes · 1 year

Text

— “ALWAYS FROM AFAR” [yes, he used to watch you from afar, stuck in the shadows, behind a grimy desktop and glued to a chair—but now, now he had you in his hands. and he wasn’t giving you up anytime soon.]

GENRE. unhealthy fluff

PAIRING. stalker!male oc x male reader

CW. lowercase intended, neighbor!oc.

NOTES. oc’s name is ‘Issac’ for the sake of this story, might change it later? dunno!! also, this is split into two parts cause i didn’t wanna write so much!! enjoy regardless tho ๑⁠♡

PARTS. i, iii

three years, seven months, and seventeen days since issac started his unhealthy infatuation with a man who didn’t even know of his existence, which made is all the more sweeter! first impressions were important, very, very important. so, meeting his betrothed was undeniably important.

a coffee shop, perhaps? no, no. only for morning people, and [name] isn’t a morning person. hm, where else — what about his darling’s neighborhood? oh, oh issac could move in! well, that’s too forward. he’ll be [name]’s neighbor at first, then a friend, then a best-friend, then his boyfriend, then his fiancé, then his husband, then his life-long partner! oh god, issac’s heart flutters at the thought of being together with his darling!

issac squealed loudly into his hands, quickly running to his bed and hugging his specially made [name] body-pillow. he even had strands of your hair and a glass jar of your saliva, which he worships every night, thanking you for the wondrous opportunity to love you! and your saliva came from your mouth, the one you use to eat with and the one you will use to kiss him with, tasted so, so good. issac drools to the idea of you kissing him, tainting his virgin soul with your god-like imprint.

“we’ll be together,” he whispered to the pillow, imagining you were infront of him, “soon, very, very soon, my love. oh, i just can’t wait!”. before issac went to sleep with you [the body pillow] by his side, he took his nightly intake of your spit, letting it rest on his tongue before allowing it to slide down his throat. then, it was time for his daily cum tribute to you.

issac’s cock rested against his stomach, twitching and aching for your touch, and he was going to receive it. he placed the body pillow on top of him, gripping it with his arms and crossing his ankles to hold you in place. issac thrusted upwards, bitting his lower lip to cover his moans; his moans were too horrid for your ears to hear, so he wanted to shut himself up. “[name],” he whispered, eyes cloths as he continued his thrusts, only doing them quicker, “ffuckin’—”, his words were caught in his throat and now, his hips were moving on their own, chasing his orgasm. issac started to cry, the feeling of you on top of him was too much. but god, he was overjoyed.

“i– oh, oh god—”, he covered his mouth with his left hand, throwing his head back as euphoria washed over him. his thrusts finally stopped, his mind went fuzzy, and the idea of you could get him started again. cum painted his stomach and you, making a blush show on his face, “i’m so sorry, sweetheart! i, i didn’t mean to!”, issac quickly apologized, looking into your eyes hesitantly, “can—can i clean,, you?”, he didn’t want to be denied of his wishes, but if you said no— “i can? oh thank you! i’ll be good from now on, so, so good for you!”.

issac’s long, pink tongue started to lick the pillow clean, quite moans coming from him whilst doing so. “you taste so good,” he whispered, eyes fluttering shut, “you taste amazing.. i love you so much! so, so much! you love me, right? oh, you do? aaa! i’m so happy!”.

issac soon tucked the both of you in, you being little spoon and him being big spoon, and kisses your forehead, whispering promises of vows and devotions to you, regardless of anything you do! “i love you so much..”, he mumbled, eyelids fluttering short from exhaustion.

it was sunday morning, around 5? way too early to wake up, in your opinion. but the sound of moving trucks and shouting awoke you, which gradually turned into you getting out of bed and throwing on a robe to see what all the commotion outside was. with a cup of nestquik in your hand, you made your way to the door.

upon opening, however, you were met with the face of an angel—a literal angel. well at least he looked like one, and he smiled like one as well. he stood tall, 6ft something, and had curly black hair with highlight of neon green in it. he was a bit chubby, leaning on a dad-bod which made him all the more attractive. he adorned a pearl necklace and three tier star earrings, and the sun shined on him so perfectly. god damnit, if this man was your neighbor— wait, is he your neighbor?

“h–hello! i’m your, erm, neigh—”, the unknown man cleared his throat. he looked,, nervous? and, this might be a far fetch but, was he blushing? his cheeks looked exceptionally rosy. “neighbor?” you questioned, finishing his sentence. he nodded, holding out a plate of cookies which seemed to be freshly baked. “yes, your new neighbor! i, erm, wanted to introduce.. my—myself to–to you! since i should get to, erm, uh, know my neighbors..” he stuttering was relentless, but it made him so adorable in your eyes! aww, you could just stuff him in your pocket! he’s too cute, way too cute.

“well,” you started, taking a sip of your drink, “welcome to the neighborhood, i’m [name] and, asking for a friend, are those cookies mine?” you eyed the plate more than once while he stood in front of you, and he could tell, he was just too nervous! what if you didn’t like his baking? what if you didn’t like him? oh, gosh, he was starting to regret this decision!

“ah, yes—hah, they are! i forgot to,, tell you they were, erm, for you. apologies, i should’ve been more,, forward? i’m quite nervous around new,, new, uh, people, if you could–couldn’t tell already! and when i’m nervous, i tend to, uh, ram–ramble and my–my, uh, stutter becomes wor–se..!” his free hand waved around as he spoke, signaling how nervous he was and how he was just so, so fucking adorable! god, you definitely scored this time.

“thank you, neighbor,” you stated, grabbing his waving hand and placing it on the underside of the plate, “i’ll make sure to enjoy these, and i’ll come to you for more if i can’t get enough of them, okay?” your smile was so—aaa! he just can’t stop smiling when he’s near you! god, this was too much for him! but he knew he had to resist the urge to kiss you, you wouldn’t like that! and he needed your permission before doing anything of the sort! he wasn’t some creepy stalker or something, never! but, he did want to stay on your doorstep, he would if you allowed him to! but no, he knew he couldn’t, he unfortunately had boxes to unpack —but, wait, he didn’t tell you his name! oh god.. well, he could just tell you on your date!

it’d been a month, coming up on a year, since issac had moved in. you’ve been learning so much about your adorable neighbor! even his name is cute! although, you’ve never been inside of his house.. which isn’t really an issue for you, you just had too much curiosity inside of you.

ever since he had moved in, the two of you have been hanging out almost every week! it’d been the best few months of your life. the two of you even spent christmas together! laying underneath the hollywood sign! it was so, so sweet! you were a bit confused tho — was he lingering on the border of friendly or having a crush on you? it was rather confusing to say the least.

what wasn’t confusing was the fact that he had taken you to the most luxurious beach you had ever been to, and the fact that you had the time of your life. the two of you stayed there until the sunset had dawned upon the two of you, making the fact that it was time to leave known.

meanwhile, in your city’s airport, a man stood there, awaiting a taxi. simon was his name. he had his hair pulled back in a ponytail and had shades covering his eyes. simon was also dressed to the nines for a very important occasion: returning to his lover. he was just so excited! after a year of his departure, he was finally back! obviously, this was going to be quite the surprise for his boyfriend, he just couldn’t wait to see the excitement on you face! oh his lovely boyfriend you, he just can’t wait!

moving on, you and issac stood in your driveway in front of his car with the headlights being blindingly bright. sand was in your hair, loads of it at that, but that didn’t matter to issac — for he didn’t care how you looked because you always looked pretty to him, just as you did now.

“i had fun today.” you stated, wrapping your lower half with your towel. “me–me too! may–be we could do–it again some–sometime?” issac’s smile was bright, so obviously you couldn’t do anything but comply to his wishes. “yeah, we can. this weekend? that’s when i’m free.”. issac was confused. why were you busy this weekend when you were free every other weekend? and so he asked said question, just in a politer tone. “oh, well i have to spend this week with my boyfriend! have i not mentioned him before? i thought i did..”, you started to retrace your thoughts during the months you two had spent together, trying to see if you ever mentioned simon.

but issac on the other hand was freaking the fuck out.

a lover?! he’s been watching you so diligently, and you have never, ever mentioned a lover! and you haven’t told him before?! do you not trust him? what if his dreams don’t come true? what if ‘your’ simon is prettier than him? oh god, what’s going to happen to what you two have now?! issac doesn’t want this to be the end.. please don’t let this be the end! wait — wait, he could get rid of that scum for you! it’s obvious you didn’t love simon since you’ve been with him for your comfort. you’ve been with him to soothe your loneliness. you sought whatever you missed in your heart through him! so–so the two of you had to have something. no the two of you definitely have something. and that something has to be love! issac knows it is love!

but why are you with that simon? he couldn’t understand it.

“o–oh! okay, uh, then i’ll, erm—”, you can obviously sense the aggravation coming from him, but from what? was he in love? with you? “how about tomorrow? i’ll make time tomorrow okay? and then, we can bake!”. issac’s eyes were still down at the ground, but he wasn’t going to cry, he didn’t want to seem too weak in front of you!

“issac,” you started, cradling the sides of his face with your hands, “you can bake me those cookies you gave me when we first met, they were pretty good! okay? i promise, i’ll come over and we’ll have the time of our lives!” your smile was way too bright for him not to look at you. but aaa! his pout was too adorable for you not to smile! gosh, why couldn’t simon be more like him? if issac was your lover then—what? why were you thinking such thoughts?! oh could this be cheating?

“to—tomorrow, then? you–you’re coming over tomorr–ow, right?”, aaaa!!! him and his puppy dog eyes are just too cute! he’s too adorable for his own good, gosh! “yes, i’ll be over tomorrow! promise.”

#male reader #x male reader #yandere x male reader #male reader insert #male reader fluff #yandere male x male reader #male oc x male reader #oc x male reader #dan.writes

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sleepyconfusedpotato · 1 year

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Take Care of Yourself

After their escape from the Shadow Company's looming hunt for their heads, Ghost, Soap, and Jade headed to the Los Vaqueros safehouse on the outskirts of Las Almas. Soaked by the rain, the Scot needed some help with his wound on his shoulder.

Soap isn't the only one who needed help, though.

Pairing : Simon "Ghost" Riley x Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin (OC) Word Count : ~ 2700

Warning : Fluff with a slight bit of angst, a touch of hurt/comfort, and good ol' cursings.

Title and story inspired by the song Take Care of Yourself by Maisie Peters

"Soap, where's your wound?" Jade asked the sergeant as she rummaged through her gears. Ghost, Soap, and Jade were standing near the truck they found in front of the church, currently just a kilometer away from Alejandro's safe house on the eastern side of Las Almas. However, now that the Los Vaqueros had been under the Shadow Company's custody, they cannot trust anyone. The three of them were all that they've got.

"Do you have the equipment?" Ghost, who's standing leaning onto the side of the truck asked.

"Here, fuck… I think the adrenaline shot is finally wearing off." His finger pointed at the bloody makeshift bandage on his right shoulder, sitting on the grass with his back on the side of the wheel. Their whole bodies are wet from the rain, but at least the cold helped with the blood clotting.

Jade knelt down to the ground, observing the wound. "That thing served its purpose, you did great, Soap. Now the bullet's still in there, and we need to get it out and sew it in order to let it heal properly."

"Don't worry." The MI6 zipped out a roll of cloth, putting them onto the grass field to reveal a series of stainless steel tools that Soap could tell were definitely not medical tools. "I can make do."

"Wait, Jade. Isn't that…" Soap nervously glanced back and forth to her and her equipment.

"Torture devices, yes. But it doubles as a medical kit for emergency situations, which is now." The woman lifted up a scissor, cutting the bloody bandage from Soap's shoulder, revealing the gunshot wound that Graves had inflicted upon him. Soap hissed as she gently peeled the cloth from his skin while staring at the wound underneath.

"The bleeding has mostly stopped. Now I just need to get it out." She put down the scissor, took her canteen and rinsed the bloody area with water.

"Aww! Aw aw SHIT!!"

"Don't be a baby, Johnny." Ghost retorted from beside him.

"I just got shot, Lt., and it fucking stings like a bitch. Have you ever been shot?" The wounded man grumbled to his superior.

"Many times." He answered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Beanpole, how about you help me get some lights over here? Don't wanna pull out healthy skin." Jade gestured at the masked man. If he wants to be chatty then at least he could help a little.

Ghost knelt down as well, pulling out his flashlight and directing it towards the wound. "Now that's better." Jade finally got a good visual clarity, prompting her to touch the skin surrounding it, and opening them up with her fingers. "Alright, Soap. Get ready. No alcohol unfortunately so grit your teeth real hard."

"Yeah." After the Scot's shaky response, Jade used her forceps to enter the wound, exploring the outsides of the bullet, and took hold of it.

"Got it. Stay still." As she very, very slowly fished out the bullet, Soap closed his eyes and rested his head on the car, a grimace on his face as he tried to hold in the pain. Ghost only watched in silence as he still held the flashlight up.

"Aaand it's out." The bullet is finally out of the wound, leaving a little blood trail running down his shoulder which Jade immediately covered with a gauze.

"Seems intact. You're lucky the bullet didn't burst and broke inside." Ghost reacted to the bullet on the tip of the forceps. "Or it'll be a pain in the arse to find all of them."

"Yeah. All those muscles double as a meat shield I guess." Jade joked as she put the bullet down on the cloth rolls, making Soap let out a broken chuckle.

"All that workout finally pays off."

"It certainly did." The MI6 then used forceps on both hands to carefully stitch the wound. The wound was not that big, so it only required around 3 stitches.

As she rolled the bandages around Soap's arm, Ghost started, "We don't know whether the safe house is empty or not. We're on our own."

The ginger responded, "We are. Anyone who points a gun at us, they're hostile. Can't trust anyone unless…"

"Unless?" Soap noticed her pause.

"Unless someone's still not compromised and corrupted. And if there's one, it's Alejandro." She finally finished rolling the bandages, tidying up her equipment on the floor and putting them back on her gear.

The three of them stood up, led by the lieutenant, "Alright, let's get inside."

***********

After discussing about releasing Alejandro from the Shadows, they were now preparing their gears for the battle that was yet to come. Rodolfo had given them all some Mexican Army rations to fill their empty guts. Hours and hours of running and being hunted by Shadows took their energies out to flat battery. Rudy, Soap, and Jade sat together on the wooden crate inside the warehouse, eating away their meal.

Jade was right, if there's someone who is not corrupted, it's Alejandro, and someone close to him.

Much to their surprise, they found Rodolfo hiding in the darkness of the building. He did point his rifle at Soap, but at least he was still vigilant and didn't take anyone as a friendly considering the dreadful situation at hand. The warehouse was packed full with guns and ammunition in all varieties. It's like a second base for the Los Vaqueros. Surely it's smaller in size than the one Graves and his Shadows occupied at the moment, but it would do.

"Where's the lieutenant?" Rudy started.

"Outside. Probably doesn't want us to see his face." Soap answered as he ate the dried beans.

"Why does he wear that? The first time I saw him in the car, I was truly scared." The Mexican remembered saying that he's afraid of ghosts in Spanish to his superior upon seeing his mask.

"Then the mask served its purpose. It's psychological warfare. The less human you look like, the more fear you can strike upon the enemy" The only woman in the house told them, "Imagine a big, hulking man with a skull face, coming at you in a full on black attire, with a full sets of skills that can end your life in seconds. I would be scared."

Hearing that, Rodolfo sighed, "Glad he's on our side."

"Right. Or probably he just wants to hide his ugly face." Soap retorted, making the three of them chuckle.

As she finished her rations, Jade tidied up the plastic containers before standing up, "I'm gonna check on the beanpole. You guys eat away." She patted both of the man's shoulders, which were replied with nods from both men, before she headed out of the warehouse's wooden door where Ghost had headed ten minutes prior.

As she stepped out in the dark of the night, Jade looked up at the Las Almas sky. This will be a long night.

Got betrayed by Shepherd and The Shadows, Soap got shot, they had to survive a town full of people trying to hunt them, and now after only one hour of downtime, the four of them were about to storm the prison to try freeing Alejandro and the Vaqueros.

Taking on a whole garrison of Shadows in the prison compound with just four people? Sounded suicidal of them indeed, but Jade had seen what these people could do. They're trustworthy.

She's not alone anymore.

She's got people to cover her back.

She had him.

Taking a deep breath, she looked around to find out where the man in black went. She looked side to side to see any big, black shape sitting down, but he's nowhere to be seen.

And so, she started to walk to the side of the warehouse, finally finding the big man sitting down, his back to her. Accompanied by a single lamp above him that barely gave any sort of luminescence, she could see that his mask was lifted up, the skull plate sitting on top of his head, indicating that he's indeed eating.

One thing she realized, though, she could see him a little bit stiff on the left shoulder. What confirmed her suspicion was the fact that he touched his left shoulder, before rolling them very very slowly like it's painful to move.

Guess even the Ghost himself wasn't invincible from a bullet.

"Beanpole." Jade softly called to him. Her feminine voice instantly made the man flinch, but not turn around.

A pause, "Midget. Why are you here?" He said, for once his deep, raspy voice was not muffled by the mask.

"Checkin' up on you. You really do like sitting alone in the dark."

He didn't respond with anything. The woman decided to step forward, making the grass crack. Ghost immediately put his hand on his mask, ready to pull it down to wear it, before Jade stopped him, "It's fine. You can keep eating. I promise I won't do anything." Ghost halted his actions for a good five seconds, before putting his hand down again.

Seeing that he's finally relaxed, Jade closed in on his back slowly to where he sat down on the wooden crate. She could see the back of his neck and a little hint of his hair like this, and of course, there's a tint of blood on the junction between his neck and shoulder, just shy away covered by his black collar that was also ripped apart in the area.

"You're injured." Jade spoke slowly to avoid startling him too much.

"...Just a bullet graze. Bloody shadows."

"May I?" Jade asked, and she could see him contemplating, before he lightly nodded. Upon his confirmation, she lightly pulled away his torn collar, finding blood still running down the grazed wound. It's angry red in color, especially being covered by his clothes and his gear the entire time.

Hearing Jade’s huff, the man inquired, "Is it bad?"

"Bad. Even though Soap had a whole bullet lodged in his shoulder, at least the wound was open to the rain to wash it away. Yours were covered by your collar and plate carrier. Infection will suck." He grumbled in response. He surely thought it was nothing, but it definitely needed some attention.

"You can keep eating while I take care of this. Put off your gears first." Jade spoke to the back of his neck, and seeing that he sighed, it seemed that he didn't mind. Ghost took his gear off, as he tried to lift the plate carrier above his head, Jade could see him struggling to fight the pain on his shoulder and decided to lend a hand. Without a word, Jade helped lift them up. Judging by his groan, it must be a major relief after carrying that much weight on his injured shoulder.

After putting the gear down, she started by pouring some water to a cotton wool, pulling the collar away, revealing that the wound is even longer and deeper than she thought. It’s almost half his trapezius. This definitely required some attention. "I'm gonna clean the wound. This'll sting a little.” As she lightly pressed on the wound, Ghost's neck tensed, but he didn’t make a sound, albeit him grabbing his plastic spoon harder that it might snap.

“It’s supposed to be painful, Beanpole. It’s okay if you make a sound.” Jade said with a low tone, not wanting to surprise him, still going on in cleaning the angry red wound. This man is a hard ass sometimes. “At least Soap’s not here to tell you you’re a baby.” the woman retorted, making Ghost scoff involuntarily as he remembered telling Soap the exact same thing earlier.

“Fine,” He finally relented. “It bloody hurts. The only thing that made it right was that I put a knife on the bastard’s neck.”

“Hmm. And were you planning to let this thing be a secret?” She gestured at the wound she’s currently tending to.

Ghost only sighed, "I was going to take care of it myself."

Jade huffed softly behind him, “If you fell down from fever because it's not treated properly, I’m gonna have trouble hauling you up, Beanpole. You’re huge.”

“I’m not gonna fall.” He denied.

“You will if you let this open wound be, which was your plan, isn’t it.” Jade told him off with a slightly louder voice, stopping her hands from cleaning the wound.

“I’ve been shot many times before, Midget, and I’ll take care of myself just fine.”

“But that was when you were alone, Ghost.” Hearing her call his call sign instead of the bastard nickname quite surprised him.

“I know you can take care of yourself just fine. I know that. I think so about myself too. But we’re a team here.” Jade didn’t even realize that her voice sounded more like a worried mother than a colleague. “You’re our commanding officer, and I know you need to take the lead. All this shite happened on your watch, but despite all of that, I need you to tell me if you’re wounded. I will help. We will help.” Ghost had stopped eating now. She’s talking to the back of his head, but he could totally imagine her worried face. From the tone in her voice, he could also tell that she’s not angry. Concerned would be a better word.

“I’ve been in this thing as long as you, Ghost, and God knows how it fucks someone up, but we’ve got each other now.” She finally got back to cleaning his wound, “You said it yourself just now, ‘no one fights alone’, and that includes this. So don’t fight alone, okay?”

Ghost took a deep breath. He did say that, didn’t he. She used his own words to get back at him.

Not hearing any answer, Jade pressed the cotton with slight pressure onto his wound, prompting him to flinch his shoulder and exclaim in pain, “Ow! What the fuck!?”

“Okay??”

“Okay! Fine, Mum!” Ghost finally yielded. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Jade couldn’t help but to scoff at her new nickname, “Don’t ‘Mum’ me, Ghost. I’m just a concerned friend, that is all.” She retorted, fishing the antibiotic cream from her med kit.

“Oh, so now we’re finally friends?”

“Yes. What, were we enemies? I’m gonna apply some antibiotic cream, your wound is very long. Sheesh.”

“Tell me something I don’t know…” He got back to eating his rations. He didn’t like pep talks, but hers actually alleviated some of his burdens. Knowing that someone’s got his back, that he has someone to rely on, that he didn’t have to do this alone… it somehow comforted him.

As Jade pressed a little of the content out of the tube, she thought about the man who’s having his back on her. Hearing that he’s been through a lot of things like her, deep in her mind, she’s glad that someone understands her. And all that she did was understand him. If Jade was in Ghost’s position, who has a lot of responsibilities and burdens on his shoulders, she’d want that reassurance too. The MI6 started to lightly rub on the wound, taking note of covering the entire area.

“Thanks, for having my back.” He continued, “When I heard Johnny’s coming, I thought I’m gonna need to babysit him for a while. But having you here… It makes things easier for me.”

“...Jade.” his deep voice called to her name, not the bastardized nickname, making her flinch in response.

"hm?"

The woman behind him smiled, “A pleasure, Ghost. Cut off a little slack for yourself, alright? You look like the kind of guy who doesn’t take his own advice.”

A chuckle, “Seems so.”

After a while, Ghost finally finished eating his rations, just as Jade finished closing up his injury with the adhesive plasters.

“Abracadabra, you’re healed~!” The woman covered the wound with her warm palm, touching his skin lightly, before covering the area back up with the collar.

Ghost pulled down his mask, before standing up and turned around to face the woman who patched him up. Lifting her head to see the towering figure, she could see his dark eyes looking back at her.

“Thanks, Midget. I owe you for this one.”

She never heard him speak with such sincerity and tenderness before. She swore if not for the dim lighting, he’d caught her cheek turn as red as her hair.

Well, there’s always a first for everything. “You owe me nothing. Anytime, Beanpole.”

********************

“Soap?” Rodolfo called to the man in front of him.

“Hm?”

“Did, uh… Ghost and Jade have something between them?” Hearing the Mexican sergeant’s question, Soap couldn’t help the laughter from his mouth; he had to cover them from spitting his food.

“You see it too, don’t you?” Soap responded with a chuckle, “To answer your question, no, I don’t think they had something. We’ve only known Jade about three years ago, during the conflict for Verdansk.”

“Three years ago?” Rodolfo questioned.

“Yes. The lass were called in by Laswell. She’s fierce, I’ll give her that. However, Ghost wasn’t the kindest person at the time, and there were… trust issues among the group. So he’s the one who started the Midget thingy, and Jade responded fairly by calling Ghost Beanpole.”

The Mexican cooed in acknowledgement, getting back to his rations. “They’re very… compatible together.”

“You’re right on point on that, Hermano.”

------- FIN -------

Hope you loved it! (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

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impala-dreamer · 23 days

Text

Save Me - Part Two

A Short Story

~ Sometimes, when life seems the brightest, shadows creep in. After announcing their engagement to the world, Jensen's fiancé is kidnapped. With the help of a friend, she tries to fight her way back home to him.~

Jensen Ackles x F!Reader, Dean Winchester (cameos by Misha Collins and OCs)

7,160 Words Total. Part Two: 3,950

Warnings: My kind of Super Angst. Blood. Injury. Kidnapping. It's really sad...

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "No one's coming to save you. Get up!"

PART ONE ~ PART TWO

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

Snow was falling from a gray sky. Big flakes landed on his shoulders, dusted his hair, melted on his cheeks. His lips were frozen; his fingers numb.

The cherry of his cigarette fell to the icy sidewalk and he huffed. He fumbled with the lighter and lit back up, pulling at the filter as if he were trying to set his lungs on fire.

Maybe he was. Maybe he wanted to set the hotel on fire, the police station, the entire city.

Jensen tipped his head back and exhaled, sending the smoke to mix with the clouds overhead.

“When did you start smoking again?��

Misha appeared next to him, one hand stuffed in his pocket, the other holding a jacket. He was visibly cold, bouncing a bit for warmth even as he settled next to Jensen.

“I don’t know. When did the world implode? Four days ago?” He licked his lip and then took another drag. “Then.”

Misha shook his head sadly and Jensen rolled his eyes.

He flicked the butt into the street and shoved his hands in his pockets.

“Put your coat on at least,” Misha suggested, tapping his shoulder with the jacket.

Jensen looked down at it as if he’d never seen anything like it.

“No.”

Misha sighed. “It’s freezing. You’re gonna get sick.”

“So?”

Not wanting to fight, Misha draped the jacket over Jensen’s shoulders and gave him a friendly squeeze.

“Y/N needs you to be strong. You can’t go off and get pneumonia.”

Jensen turned his head and glared; green eyes narrow and angry. “She doesn’t need me to be strong. She needs me to fucking find her.” His jaw clenched so hard he could feel his pulse beat in his temples. “She needs me to save her.”

Heartbroken, Misha closed his eyes and dropped his head. “I know. But there’s nothing you can do right now.”

Jensen scoffed. “Isn’t there?”

“No. The police are-”

Enraged, defeated, hopeless, Jensen spun away, kicking at the snow and pushing Misha’s care away. “The police aren’t doing shit! It’s been four fucking days!”

“I know…”

“They can’t even figure out who took her. The fucking- the security cameras in the parking garage weren’t fucking working! What the fuck good is that!”

The louder Jensen’s voice grew, the smaller Misha felt. There was nothing he could say, no way to comfort his friend.

Jensen wouldn’t be comforted even if Misha knew how. He wanted to rage at the universe. To put his fist through the brick wall behind him. To drive a truck through the Starbucks across the street. To run away from everyone and everything in this godforsaken city and find her. He had to find her.

A snowflake landed on his nose and he batted it away, slapping himself in the face.

He calmed.

His heart ached.

His voice crackled with tears.

“Odds are,” he whispered, “She’s dead already.”

“Don’t say that.” Misha choked back his own pain and cleared his throat. “The detective said there’s no reason to assume-”

Jensen laughed bitterly. “Forty-eight hours, isn’t that what they say? If you don’t find them in the first forty-eight hours you’re not going to. Or they turn up dead on the side of the road or in a shallow grave behind some psycho’s house.”

“Jensen…”

Green eyes closed to the world.

He was trembling, shaking from the cold and the pain of uncertainty and loss.

“I just…I don’t know what to do.”

They stood there in silence, letting January seep into their bones. There was nothing to say, nothing either of them could do.

It just was what it was.

And it was impossible.

A deep shiver moved through Jensen’s body and he shoved his arms through the jacket sleeves, thankful that Misha was looking out for him and the little things. He was too shattered to care about staying alive. Not right now.

He turned back to his friend and the revolving doors, deciding it was time to go back in and shake away the cold.

Flashing lights pulled his attention to the street and he held his breath as the police car turned into the hotel lot. The world moved in slow motion as the car parked in the nearby handicapped spot and Detective Lassiter hopped out. He held a clear bag in his thick fist and his countenance was heavy. He looked at Jensen and shook his head.

Jensen’s universe cracked. He bit his tongue, needing to feel the pain to keep himself conscious as the detective explained what had happened.

“They’re not asking for a ransom,” he said, speech rushed and emotionless. “Not yet, anyway. But this- this is good.” He handed the bag to Jensen.

Y/N’s diamond engagement ring glistened in the dim gray light.

Jensen closed his fist around it. The platinum prongs dug into his palm. “How?” His voice broke. “How is this good?”

“Means they want something. They’re not just going to kill her and be done. This is the kidnappers opening a line of communication.”

Jensen couldn’t hear him, couldn’t follow his words any longer. His fist tightened and the diamond cut through the thin evidence bag. He squeezed until it hurt, until his skin broke, until he could feel the warm trickle of blood.

A drop fell from his fist and painted the freshly fallen snow.

It was hard to stay awake, hard to think.

The pain was still there, but she couldn’t feel it much anymore. It didn’t feel as intense, as if she were getting used to the constant stabbing and shredding of her insides that accompanied every breath she took.

She couldn’t feel the cold anymore either. Her flesh had simply become part of the concrete, all of her warmth had been drained into the darkness.

In and out of the dreamless sleep of unconsciousness, she lay on the dirty floor, barely able to think let alone move.

“Why you?” she whispered, watching burgundy flannel pace back and forth by the steps.

Dean stopped short, his boots making a dull thud on the floor.

“What?”

She lifted her head, cringed at the hurt that erupted in her shoulder.

“I said, why is it you?”

His forehead creased and he shrugged. “I don’t know. Who else would it be?”

Y/N rubbed her right eye. It was dry and it hurt to blink. She was dehydrated and starving; her body was failing, her mind was slipping.

“It’s just odd, I guess.”

Dean sat on the bottom step, his elbows resting on his knees. “I don’t think it’s that weird. You need someone to talk to, you need someone to help. I’m pretty good at that shit.”

Y/N sighed. “But you don’t exist. I’m just talking to myself.”

“Does it matter?”

“Not really.”

“There should have been way more demon Dean.”

Jensen laughed and shot her a look that would have knocked her over had she not already been sitting down.

The couch cushion between them seemed as wide as an ocean, but neither were ready to swim across.

“You like bad boys, huh?” He licked his lips and watched hers as she answered.

“I guess everybody does at some point,” she said. “But there was something special about Dean as a demon. It was like… he was finally free for a little while. Like he was on vacation. Just hanging out and getting laid-”

Jensen grinned. “And murdering innocent people.”

She dipped her chin and looked up at him flirtatiously. “Is anyone ever truly innocent, Jensen?”

His smile faded and he stared harder. His lips parted slowly. “Are you?”

She blinked, painted lashes fanning over enchanting eyes. “I can be when I need to be.”

Her hand slid across the space between them and she bit her lip, daring him to match her move, begging him to meet her halfway.

He dropped his hand to the cushion, fingers landing a breath away from hers.

“What about right now?” he asked, leaning close.

She could feel the heat pushing off of him, smell the lingering scent of his faded cologne.

“Honestly?” she smirked.

He nodded. “Always.”

Y/N leaned in dangerously close. “I’m not feeling too innocent right now.”

A tentative kiss. The first taste of his lips; the first feel of her skin.

There were footsteps above her head. Someone running; heavy shoes falling on old wooden planks.

Y/N lay on her back and stared up at nothing. There were long beams above her and she wondered what it would take for them to come crashing down and crush her to death.

It wasn’t that she wanted to die, she’d never want that, but she knew it was happening. She could feel her body giving up. Her skin was hot but she shivered. Her blood had dried but the wounds wouldn’t stay closed. Her thoughts were fuzzy and shadows played tricks on her.

She couldn’t tell how long it had been since they’d tossed her down the steps; didn’t know how far from help she was. Time meant nothing. It could have been hours, a month, a week mostly likely. There was no way for her to guess. No windows to help count the sunsets, no ticking clock to pace her breaths to.

Sometimes, she counted her heartbeats just to have something to do, but they were unsteady. Too fast at times and then far too slow. It scared her to pay attention to the erratic pulse of her blood, so she tried to ignore it.

Mostly, she remembered things.

Mostly, she remembered him.

In moments when the pain overwhelmed her and her eyes refused to stop leaking, she would pull up his face, try to remember the placement of every freckle, count each thick eyelash. She could still feel his hands on her skin, smell his breath first thing in the morning. She could taste the salt on his neck after a workout, hear his delicate whispers in the heat of night. But his eyes were fading away. She couldn’t get the shade right in her mind; couldn’t remember what shirt made them darker, what time of day they looked the lightest.

The green was washing away.

Last winter. A break in filming. Sand beneath their feet; ocean breeze filling their lungs.

The sun was so bright it hurt her eyes, but she refused to close them, unwilling to miss one single second of time with him.

He was already burning in the sun; his shoulders tanning, his chest turning red. Every now and then, he’d take off and run into the water, dip below the perfect blue horizon and cool off. She loved those moments the best, when he came back to her dripping and laughing, his hair wet and slicked back behind his jet-fin ears.

He’d always come back to her, always fall down over her, hold himself up on his big arms and let the ocean water dribble down onto her bare stomach. He’d block the sun for a few precious moments, and all she could see was the halo around him and the love in his eyes.

“Y/N…”

She couldn’t open her eyes. They felt so heavy, so dry. It was all so pointless.

“Y/N, wake up, sweetheart.”

Dean was hovering again, crouched down at her side. His giant hand was hovering over her forehead as if checking her temperature like a mother would for her child.

“Don’t- don’t call me that,” she croaked. Her eyes fluttered open and she was met with his worried smile.

“What should I call you then?”

“A cab.”

He laughed softly. “You’re still funny. That’s good.”

“Is it?”

She tried to sit up but her spine felt like gelatin. She tried to speak but her throat was ripped to shreds. She tried to cry but her eyes were dry and nothing came out. Her shoulders shook and she moaned pitifully.

Dean’s jaw clenched, dimples popped above his lip. “You gotta get out of here. You’re not doin’ so well.”

Y/N curled in on herself, knees and shoulders meeting somewhere in the middle. “Go away.”

“No.”

She covered her face.

He shifted onto his knees. “You gotta get up and find a way out.”

“There is no way out. We’ve looked a hundred times.”

He exhaled hard, frustrated and desperate. “You gotta try again. You gotta get out.”

Her eyes fell closed again, her breathing slowed. “He’ll find me. He’ll save me…”

Y/N was still confused when the elevator door opened. Jensen had refused to tell her where they were going or why they were dressed like they were being photographed for GQ.

‘Wear that purple dress,’ he’d said on the phone with no explanation why.

Her hand clasped in his, they stepped out into a large empty ballroom. Floor to ceiling windows looked out on a gray morning; the L.A. smog was thick and hung like rain clouds in the sky.

Jensen led her deep into the room and turned to face her. He was nervous, she could tell. His chewed his bottom lip, rubbed his thumb over her hand quickly, breathed a little too fast.

She laughed gently. “What’s going on?”

He took a big, calming breath.

He licked his lips and smiled.

“Eighteen months ago, we were both here for that HBO after party. You wore this purple dress and I was wearing…” He looked down at his crisp black button down and charcoal slacks. “Well, this.”

She smiled. “I remember. It was the first time we met.”

He swallowed hard and held her hand in both of his. His palms were damp.

“But what you don’t know is that I saw you the very second you walked in.” He bit the corner of his mouth and took a second to collect his racing thoughts. “I was over there by the window talking to Eric and you walked in… It was like the crowd opened up for you. Every head turned; the music stopped.”

“I don’t think it was that much of an entrance,” she laughed.

“It was for me.”

Her heart raced.

“Jen, what’s going on?”

He smiled and bent down to kiss her lips. He held her face in his hands, ran his thumbs lightly over her cheeks. She kissed him back, licking at his plump lips.

“I wanted to do that the moment I saw you,” he whispered.

Her eyes fluttered open and all she saw was green.

“And this…”

He let her go and dropped down onto one knee.

He took her hand.

She held her breath.

“Marry me, Y/N…”

“I need you to calm down.”

Detective Lassiter was tucked behind his messy desk, his beer gut smushed against the edge.

Jensen refused to relax. He paced in front of the man’s desk, his hands rushing through his hair; fists beating at the stale air.

“I can’t fucking calm down, OK!” His face was red and his jaw hurt from holding his tongue for so long. “You people can’t do shit, you know that? It’s been six fucking days.”

“Mr. Ackles, please-”

“No. No. No.” He turned to the detective and slammed his hands down on the desk. He leaned in, close to growling. “You need to save her.”

The older man sat forward. “We are doing everything we can. They’re working on the emails right now. Still hoping there’s traceable DNA on the ring. We will get these bastards. We will find her.”

Jensen closed his eyes, felt a thousand more tears brewing in his chest. He didn’t know how much longer he could go on without having a complete breakdown. There wasn’t enough bourbon in the world to soothe his soul.

Only one thing would do.

Only Y/N.

He was coughing so badly she was sure he was dying. She could hear him from the kitchen, his wet cough rattling above the sound of the screaming kettle.

She poured the boiling water onto the tea bag and grabbed some Tylenol from the cabinet.

The room was dark but the light from his cell phone guided her across the soft carpet.

“Hey…”

He groaned miserably.

“You feelin’ any better?”

He shook his head. “I feel like death.”

Y/N set the mug of tea down on the nightstand and switched on the lamp.

He cringed at the light and shielded his eyes with a forearm over his face.

“You better not die on me, Ackles. I’ve still got plans for you.”

He smiled and sat up a little bit, reaching for the tea. “You can’t get rid of me this easily. Even if it is your fault.”

She gasped in mock offense. “It is not my fault!”

“You got me sick,” he chuckled and took a sip.

“Yeah. You’re right. It was all part of my master plan to steal the Impala from you.” She pressed her fingertips together and gave him an evil grin. “Everything is falling into place.”

He laughed. It triggered a cough and she took the tea from him as his body shook.

“Oh, god, Jen.” Her brow creased with worry and she pressed a cool hand to his cheek. “You’re burning up, baby. I think we should get you to the doctor.”

Jensen shook his head and grabbed her wrist. He closed his eyes and kissed her palm. “Just stay with me, please.”

She smiled and settled in next to him. “They couldn’t pull me away…”

There was screaming coming from above. The words were muffled but the emotion was clear.

They were coming for her.

Y/N lay face down on the floor, her fingertip tracing a crack in the concrete. She was tired, so tired, and cold again. The air touching her skin hurt, the strands of hair that touched her forehead felt like knives.

Dean was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his body locked in a tense defensive pose. He listened to the shouts, eyes narrowed and ears struggling to understand.

“That’s it,” he huffed, spinning around toward Y/N. “You gotta get up. You gotta go. Now.”

Boots pounded above.

Y/N sighed. “It’s fine. He’s coming for me. Jensen is coming. He’ll save me.”

Dean grit his teeth and knelt down beside her. His voice was deep and firm. “Listen to me. You can still fight. You can get up and fight.”

She laughed. “I can’t. Look at me. I’m… I can’t fight. They’ll kill me.”

“Then you go down swinging. You’re not some damsel in distress, Y/N. Get up and fight!”

Gingerly, she rolled over and looked up at him. “Maybe I am. Maybe I just have to lay here and wait for the cops to show up.” She sighed and closed her eyes, waving him away. “I’m tired, Dean.”

The fight upstairs was growing louder, the boots getting closer to the door.

Dean slammed his palms against the floor by her head, making her jolt awake.

“No one is coming to save you. Get up!”

Navy uniforms blurred in his vision. People rushed past the big window, but he stayed put, frozen in the chair beside Lassiter’s desk.

Jensen was in shock; tired and lost. He had barely heard the detective when he explained the situation.

They’d tracked down the kidnappers. The S.W.A.T. team was on their way. Just a few more hours and Y/N would be home.

He just had to wait.

Finally, Dean got her to stand. Her legs were shaky, but her head was clearing. She knew what had to be done.

Behind the staircase was an old, rusted tool box. Inside it, a hammer.

She gripped the wooden handle tight.

Dean urged her to stand in the shadows beside the staircase. He held her gaze, reassuring her every second that she could do this. She could fight her way out. She could run.

The boots above stopped. The kitchen light turned on, illuminating the seams around the door at the top of the stairs.

Y/N steadied her breathing. She bent her knees, planting herself on the spot.

The door creaked loudly as it was pulled open.

Her hand trembled.

Dean nodded reassuringly. “You got this.”

Heavy footsteps bounded down the stairs and a large man appeared, gun in hand.

Y/N’s blood was racing, adrenaline coursing through every cell.

The man turned to the right and Y/N leapt from the left. She lunged forward, swinging the hammer with every bit of strength she had.

She missed his head, striking him in the forearm.

The gun fell.

She pulled her arms back and the claw of the hammer dug into the flesh beneath the man’s chin. He screamed and doubled over, taking the old tool with him.

Y/N stared down at him, eyes wide with shock and terror.

“Now!” Dean clapped his hands, stealing her attention back. “Run!”

She could still feel the warmth of the lights on her face; hear the cheers from the crowd.

Jensen pulled her close and kissed a trail down to her lips. He kissed her forehead, her nose, the top of each cheek. By the time he met her lips, she was laughing into him, so warm, so happy.

His arms folded around her, his beard tickled her cheeks.

She clung to his shirt and sighed.

“I won’t be long,” he whispered. “Just gotta go smile for a thousand photos or so.”

She groaned. “I don’t wanna let go.”

He laughed and squeezed her tight. “Me either.”

The kitchen was bright, the lights burned her eyes. She stumbled into a chair and hit her foot against the island.

Dean was there every step, calling her name, leading her through the worst pain she’d ever experienced.

“You can do this,” he shouted, urging her to move faster. “Just a little farther. Come on!”

She pumped her arms, dodged the sparse furniture in the living room, raced for the front door.

It was locked, bolted and chained.

“Almost there, kid. Almost there.”

She focused hard, willing her fingers to cooperate.

The man shouted from the basement, loud and angry. Dean looked back over his shoulder, and flinched.

“You gotta hurry, Y/N-”

The chain was the hardest part. Her fingers were numb and tingling; she slipped more than once.

Boots thudded on linoleum.

“Come on!”

She wrenched the door open and tumbled out into the cold night air. The moon was full and bright, the sky clear and inky black.

She took a breath and steadied herself; bare feet sinking into the snowy lawn.

Dean was across the street already, silently urging her on with a waving hand and desperate expression.

Flashing lights pulled her gaze away and she smiled. They’d found her.

Sirens blared.

She took a step toward the street.

Dean shouted her name.

She smiled.

A shot rang out and her world fell into darkness.

Jensen collapsed.

His knees hit the ground first, then his hands. His palms scraped against the gravel but the sting was irrelevant.

Someone was touching him, grabbing at his shoulders, trying to help him up, but he shouted and pushed them away. He didn’t want help. He didn’t need comfort. He didn’t want anything.

His chest burned, his heart raged against his ribcage. The earth beneath him opened up, shattered like his soul.

“Jensen…”

He looked up into his own dark eyes. Eyes he’d seen in the mirror for years. Eyes that he’d cried with, laughed with, died with a thousand times.

Dean sighed. A single tear slid down his cheek.

“I’m sorry.”

Jensen closed his eyes and Dean faded into nothingness, swept away by the freezing January wind.

“Keep her safe, Dean,” he whispered. “Stay with her.”

“Always.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05

#spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #jensen ackles x reader #dean winchester x reader #angst #save me p2

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cinnamongorll · 4 months

Text

a fragile line - chapter 22

read on ao3 (111k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 7.3k

no context spoiler for this chapter: pride and prejudice mr. darcy hand flex scene ;)

Chapter 22: 'Running Up That Hill'

Juliet's POV:

Juliet ran her finger over the map, tracing the colourful lines on the crinkled paper. The low autumn sun filtered in through the truck windows, tossing golden light onto her trembling hands. Juliet hadn’t stopped shaking since she awoke in the woods two days prior, when she finally regained some sort of lucidity. Luckily, the vibrations from the truck masked the tremble as her whole body shook with the speed of the vehicle. Joel’s driving was always an experience.

They followed a series of bold blue lines to Cody. Joel was adamant that they would find his brother there. Juliet wasn’t so sure. She didn’t much believe in hope anymore.

As they continued down the never ending highway, the surrounding trees began to lessen and, having lost their shadows, the sun started to blind Juliet. She squinted her eyes against the rays and her trembling fingers rose to reach for the sun visor. But as she leaned forward, the muscles in her stomach stretched and her body screamed in pain with the brutal reminder of her burn. Juliet groaned low and her arm instantly returned to her side. Sweat broke out across her forehead as she inhaled deep breaths, attempting to slow her heart rate.

Days had passed but the pain showed no sign of lessening and Juliet was sick of playing the weakling. It was an effort not to make any more noise as pain continued to ripple through her, so she sucked in a silent breath through gritted teeth and waited for the fire in her stomach to dwindle.

One shallow breath later and a hand, still stained with the memory of blood, reached over from its resting position on the wheel and pulled down her visor. Juliet blinked as the sun was shielded from her vision and her eyes cut to the man the hand belonged to. Joel’s stare was unreadable and his eyes dropped to her stomach before returning to her shocked face. “Careful” he murmured, before his gaze latched onto the road again.

Juliet blinked slowly, still shaken by his momentary close proximity. Somehow, no matter how long they went without a shower, Joel always managed to keep his musky scent of pine and smoke. Juliet wanted to bathe in it, let the smell entirely surround her. It reminded her of working in the QZ, side by side with Joel. It reminded her of nights spent sleeping in Bill’s truck or tucked in sleeping bags under the stars. It reminded her of that night in the dark house, her hands still soaked with his blood as she felt the scruff of his jaw scratch against her skin.

Juliet’s hand involuntarily tensed, crinkling the map with her clenched fingers. She began to build that brick wall in her mind again, closing that memory in, desperate to keep it tucked away. Joel had killed her father. He was right, though, he had to do it, her father had to die. But how could she know that and still react the way she did to the memory of his lips on hers? She was sick, deranged even.

Joel was wrong for her. He was too old, too angry, too mean. And yet Juliet was unable to breathe around him; when he brushed against her or held her aching body under the stars. She blinked away that memory too.

Juliet shook her head, desperate to focus on the map in front of her. Joel was relying on her for directions, just as he had throughout their whole journey together. Ethan had attempted to sit shotgun that morning, going so far as to open the door and take the seat. Joel wasn’t having it, though. He had claimed that Ethan couldn’t read a map “for shit” and was determined that Juliet take the seat beside him.

They had argued for a while, until Joel became almost frighteningly silent and Ethan got in the back with a few choice curse words under his breath. Juliet hadn’t realised he’d known those words.

Now, Ethan sat with his arms crossed and his eyes latched firmly on the back of Joel’s head. Juliet snuck a peak behind her, the best she could in her pained state, and Ethan quickly met her eyes with a small smile. She tried to return the gesture but her mouth curved into more of a grimace. Juliet knew that Ethan wasn’t happy with her, that he didn’t like Joel and didn’t want to be stuck in this truck with him. But he had stayed, for her…

Juliet’s chest tightened as her debt to him increased.

They would reach Cody within the next couple hours. Joel was worried about the dark so the plan was to find somewhere to lay low for the night before they began to scope out the town in the morning. Juliet could feel Joel’s anxiety. Somehow, his broad shoulders grew tighter as they closed in on the last place his brother had contacted him from. His regular tapping on the wheel increased at a rapid speed, Juliet didn’t think he was even aware of it.

She was desperate to reach over and enclose her hand over his.

As Joel shifted gears and increased his speed, Juliet allowed her mind to wander. She allowed herself to think about comforting him the way he had comforted her. How would he react to her touch? Would Joel welcome her attention? Or brush her off?

There were so many lines they walked: between smuggler and cargo, friend and acquaintance, accomplice and opponent. Juliet was afraid to bridge the gap, the guilt that lived inside her raged with every thought of Joel’s touch. Ethan was in the backseat, Ethan had saved her, he had suffered for years because of her. She couldn’t do that to him. She couldn’t even visualise Joel returning her feelings. Juliet didn’t even know what those feelings were, but more and more she was struggling to deny that they existed.

…………………………………………………

When they reached Cody, they all sat up a bit straighter. The light was fading fast, but Juliet’s breath caught at the mountains towering over the town. They made her feel small, made everything seem small. The silence was heavy between them and Joel began to tense. Juliet didn’t dare look at his face, she couldn’t bear to see that scrunch of his eyebrows which hinted at danger ahead. They had been through too much, and everything inside her mind was still so blurry. Juliet couldn’t handle another trauma - she could barely remember the last one.

Ethan leaned forward, resting his forearm on the back of Juliet’s seat and pushing the front of his body into the space between Joel and Juliet. Juliet shifted closer to the door to make room for his presence.

“See any demons?” he whispered as the truck slowly moved down the city street.

Joel’s eyes cut to Ethan, a question printed on his face.

“He means the infected,” Juliet murmured as she continued staring straight ahead. Their community didn’t know much about the current blight of the world. Her father had always called them ‘demons’ but never went into detail. Juliet remembered the first time she saw an infected person, stumbling around in a carpark with Blake by her side. She remembered the sound of his gunshot in her ears when it fell to the ground.

Joel didn’t respond, he just tensed his hand on the wheel. Juliet could tell he was entirely focused on their surroundings, scanning every shop window, every corner of every darkening street they passed.

“Looks clear to me,” Ethan announced in a hard voice following the heavy silence, tilting his head towards Juliet. But she wasn’t looking at him. She was scanning the roads like Joel, holding her breath with every passing second. It was almost too quiet in Cody, surely they would have seen at least one infected stumbling around somewhere. Juliet began to curl her fingers into fists, ignoring the pain from her tender palms.

If Tommy wasn’t here, if there was nowhere for them to go… Juliet didn’t know if there was enough room in her soul to house another blow.

Joel slowed the truck to a stop on what looked like a mainstreet. They said nothing for a moment, still waiting, still listening for danger. Sometimes, in the silence, there lay the deadliest of threats.

“We’ll get out,” Joel began his command, before cutting his eyes to Ethan, “Quietly ” he insisted with raised eyebrows. Juliet watched as Ethan rolled his eyes and sank backwards into the back of the truck.

“We don’t know what’s out there, but we gotta find somewhere to stay for the night,” Joel continued. Juliet nodded in response, used to this routine. She felt renewed by this small sense of purpose, this small comfort of familiarity.

For his next instruction, Joel turned in his seat, facing Ethan. “Don’t do anythin’ stupid” he ground out in a low, dark voice, as his eyes narrowed. Juliet attempted to swallow down the tension which lay thick in the air.

After a long moment, Ethan muttered out an agreement then bent forward and began to rifle through his backpack, before pulling out a handgun and making sure it was loaded. They must have cleared out the armoury before leaving the community, because Juliet and Joel had one too, along with two shotguns in the back.

Before she could attempt to lean forward, and aggravate the burn on her stomach, her backpack landed on her lap. Joel leaned over the gear stick, his scent of pine and smoke washing over her, as he began to search through her bag, finding her gun and ammo and depositing them into Juliet’s awaiting hands. When he was done, he moved to his own backpack and did the same.

Tears threatened to fill Juliet’s eyes. The silent gesture from Joel flooded her body with a comforting warmth. Juliet didn’t say thank you, she knew Joel wouldn’t want her to. She just loaded her gun and blinked away her glossy eyes, quietly steeling herself for what the night would bring.

……………………………

They exited the truck as the sky darkened into a vibrant shade of navy blue. Juliet’s legs were stiff and her body felt unusually heavy, her limbs trembled with the chill in the air. The weather had changed rapidly in the last few days, autumn was now truly upon them and Juliet wished for a warmer wardrobe. Joel had found her a new shirt, to replace the one they had to cut open, but the soft flannel wasn’t enough to shield her body from the cold.

Her backpack hung from her hand as Juliet braced herself to swing it over her shoulders, she knew the strain that would have on her stomach. So she took a couple deep breaths and listened to the quiet sounds of Ethan rounding the truck towards her, before biting her lip and begining to lift her arms.

Her backpack had barely moved before a heavy weight landed on her shoulders with a warmth which forced a low groan to instantly release from her lips. She looked down and realised that it was a jacket… Joel’s jacket. The jacket was far too big for her, almost swallowing her down to her knees. Joel stood before her, staring down at her wide eyes and gently took the backpack from her icy hands.

“Joel, no. I can’t take this,” she protested, trying to shrug the jacket from her shoulders.

Joel raised his free hand, silencing her.

“Take it,” he commanded, leaving no room for a returning argument.

She wanted to fight back on this, demand that Joel take his jacket back. But it was so warm and it smelled so much like him, and Juliet was so cold. So, she nodded slowly and pulled her arms through the sleeves, rolling them up so her hands could move freely. When Joel was satisfied, he lifted her bag and threaded her arms through the straps, until it hung securely from her back.

Juliet’s cheeks were burning. She hated that she couldn’t do this for herself, that her injury retrained almost every movement she made. And she hated that Joel saw her like this, as weak and defenceless, as something he had to look after, like a child. Her father had done this to her, he had taken away her dignity and all that was left was a shell of who Juliet once was. She wasn’t a survivor anymore, she was barely a person.

Joel’s eyes scanned her face and Juliet watched as a muscle jumped in his tight jaw. She nodded again, this time to show her gratitude. Joel just looked at her a moment longer and moved away, facing the darkening street in front of them as he sorted his own backpack.

Juliet pulled the jacket tighter around her and turned to find Ethan leaning on the side of the truck, an unreadable expression covered his face. But he wasn’t looking at her, he was looking at the jacket now hanging loose on her shivering form. His eyebrows pinched together and he ran his free hand over his mouth, before he tugged the corners of his lips into his signature smile, which didn’t quite reach his eyes, and gestured with a tilt of his head that they should get moving.

Joel walked with his usual quick stride, his heavy steps somehow quiet on the concrete ground. Juliet held her gun steady in her hand, Ethan, who walked beside her, did the same. When Juliet looked closer at Ethan, she noticed his hands were trembling and his shoulders were tight. A sharp bolt of pity fired through her when she remembered that Ethan had no real experience with the outside world. As they walked down this empty street, the masked terror in Ethan’s eyes reminded her of the girl Blake found in the woods all those years ago. She ached to reach out, to offer some comfort, some reassurance for her friend but she needed to keep her wits about her. With every step they took, Juliet grew more and more uneasy. Surely Tommy wasn’t hiding out here? It was too open, too achingly quiet.

Juliet knew that Joel wouldn’t want to go far from the truck so she was unsurprised when his steps slowed outside a building with minimal broken windows and somewhat undisturbed brickwork. He turned to Juliet, tossed his shotgun over his shoulder, and nodded their usual signal for her to keep watch. Her eyes instantly focused on the streets, listening intently for anything amiss as Joel began the work of finding an entry into the building.

Ethan started to pace, holding his gun out in front of him. Even in the near complete darkness, with only the moon to light their surroundings, Juliet could see that Ethan’s eyes had taken on a glaze of wild fear.

“Ethan,” she hissed, trying desperately to get his attention without making much noise.

Ethan’s eyes quickly cut to her but only for a second before they latched back onto the dark street. She tried again, this time moving closer to him. “What’s wrong?” she whispered urgently.

Ethan had stopped pacing. He stood eerily still as he lifted his gun higher. Panic struck Juliet with a fierce blow when she realised that he was aiming at something.

Juliet squinted her eyes, searching through the darkness for the source of Ethan’s terror.

Her breath caught when she spotted it. There. A figure stumbling out from behind a car.

Juliet would recognise those jerky movements anywhere.

An infected.

And Ethan had his gun trained on it. But he didn’t know what the infected were like. He didn't know that if saw one then there were probably hundreds somewhere else, just waiting for a sound to alert them of their presence.

“Ethan, no ” Juliet hissed, reaching her hand towards him.

But it was too late.

Ethan fired the shot and, of course, even in the dark, it landed on its target. Ethan was the one to teach Juliet how to shoot, after all. The infected fell to the ground without a sound, but the gunshot was deafening.

She froze, her hand still outstretched as Joel rushed up to Ethan and pried the gun from his hands.

“What the fuck are you doin’?” Joel demanded, grabbing hold of Ethan’s shoulder with his free hand. Ethan turned to him, his eyes wide.

“I did it,” he gushed, attempting to shrug off Joel’s crushing grip. “I killed one of them.”

“Yeah and lit up a target on our heads. Every infected in the area is gonna follow that sound directly to us,” Joel fumed, doing his best to keep his voice low, but his rage was screaming out of him.

Ethan recoiled, the relief gone. Joel let him tug himself free. “Shit,” Ethan cursed, running his hand through his hair.

“We need to move,” Juliet whispered, searching Joel’s face for instructions.

Before Joel could answer. Before any of them could move. They heard the sound Juliet dreaded with every fibre of her soul.

Gargling. Screeching. Footsteps, pounding on the concrete.

Without a second thought, Joel grabbed Juleit’s arm and pulled her towards the store. Juliet stumbled to the door, her fear weighing her down. She turned and saw, from the distance, a black mass moving at lightning speed, hitting off of abandoned cars and stumbling over each other.

Joel was right. Ethan had led a mass of infected right to them.

Joel pulled against the latch he had just burst open with the handle of his shotgun, pulling the door open and pushing Juliet through. She didn’t have a choice, Joel had moved so quickly she hadn't even had time to protest, to beg for Joel to help Ethan. Within seconds the door was shut and Juliet was alone in the darkness.

She turned to the window, her heart was beating so fast she could hear her blood rushing in her ears. From the foggy glass she could see Joel and Ethan arguing before Joel grabbed hold of Ethan’s shirt and dragged him towards the door. Juliet stumbled back as they entered, Ethan ran straight into her chest, knocking the air out of her. It took everything in Juliet to not scream in pain.

“Watch it,” Joel growled at Ethan.

Ethan had stumbled to the wall and dropped his head into his hands. His fingers were shaking.

“Quick, barricade the door,” Juliet urged, trying her best to bend towards a cabinet but Joel got there first, gently nudging her out the way and pushing the cabinet in front of the door. Juliet moved towards the window, and instantly jumped back at the horror outside the shop.

The infected had descended upon the street. Hundreds stumbling about in the dark, their heads turning at unnatural angles attempting to hear the sounds of their victims. Juliet turned around slowly, her finger glued to her lips.

Joel froze at the sight of her face and moved to the window. They both gazed out, Juliet's shoulder pressed against Joel’s bicep. The muscles in his arm were tense right down to his clenched hand against the windowsill. She could still make out the cuts on his knuckles. The evidence of what he had done for her. Juliet couldn’t let this be the end of his story, when he was so close to finding his brother. Joel deserved peace. He deserved a life without broken knuckles and blood on his hands.

Despite her fuzzy brain and the lightheadedness that had begun to dilute her thoughts. Juliet scrambled to create a plan.

“We keep quiet, keep out of sight tonight. Then, in the morning we can plan a way out of here,” Juliet murmured, glad that Joel stood so close so she didn’t have to speak any louder and risk one of the infected hearing. In the morning light, they would be able to see a way out of this mess.

Joel nodded and his face tilted down towards her. ‘Upstairs’ he mouthed with a jerk of his chin.

Juliet agreed they had to get as far away from the door as possible. Tucked further into the building, they might have a chance of surviving the night.

Ethan still stood pressed against the wall. Juliet gestured to him that they should find their way upstairs and he nodded, finally understanding the gravity of their situation and the need to stay quiet. Juliet would be lying if she said she wasn’t annoyed at this callousness. He should have known better. He should have listened to her, listened to Joel. Juliet wondered if he felt a need to prove himself by killing that infected, to prove that he could survive in this world like she had. Juliet had never known Ethan to be a jealous person, but the years changed people. She knew that more than anyone.

Despite her annoyance, she still brushed her fingers against his hand as she walked past him towards the stairs. Yet, before she could take the first step, Joel tapped her shoulder and raised his hand, asking her to wait. She paused, a question on her lips. Then she watched as Joel reluctantly handed Ethan his gun back. Ethan wrapped his hand around the handle but Joel wouldn’t let go. He held tight even as Ethan pulled against the weapon. Ethan pulled again, harder this time. But Joel held steady.

Just when Juliet was about to step in, Joel grabbed the collar of Ethan’s shirt, pulling him in close. Joel whispered in his ear, words that Juliet was unable to make out. When he was finished, Joel let go and Ethan stumbled back a couple steps, the gun now in his hands. Juliet cringed as Ethan gained his footing, worried he would make a sound by crashing into something.

Joel turned back to her with the slightest hint of satisfaction in his tense expression. Juliet furrowed her eyebrows but allowed Joel to step around her and begin their slow, silent journey up the stairs with his gun raised in one hand and his torch now gripped in the other, lighting their way.

With each step, Joel paused, testing the stability of the steps. Juliet thought back to their time in the museum in Boston, when the entire staircase crumbled beneath them. It felt like a lifetime ago. Back then, Juliet had known exactly where her life would take her. She had a purpose. She had a reason to keep going. Now… Juliet wasn’t exactly sure why she was still putting one foot in front of the other.

She tensed her fingers around the handle of her gun, following Joel’s footsteps as they inched their way up the stairs. Ethan was a few steps behind her, she could hear his quiet breaths.

When Joel reached the stop, Juliet paused, waiting for him to sweep the hallway with his torch. They stayed silent, it still wasn’t safe to make a sound as more infected could be hidden upstairs. After a moment, Joel nodded down at them and Juliet stepped onto the hardwood floor. She had thought this was a store, but she was wrong. It looked more like an office building. If they could find an office at the back and barricade the door, they could stay safe until morning light where they could use the window to plot their way back to the truck.

Juliet eased a slow breath from her lips, finally feeling the weight on her shoulders ease. Just a few more steps, sweep the upstairs, then they could rest. Juliet struggled to stand for too long, her head still ached with the force of her father’s blow, along with the bruising on her ankles. She was ashamed at how weak her father had made her.

Joel walked forward, avoiding a couple crumbling floorboards and pointed his torch into the first room. Juliet was about to signal to Joel that they should split up, sweep the rooms individually then meet back in the hallway. But then she thought of Ethan and his trigger happy tendencies and she restrained herself with a grimace. They should stick together.

Juliet followed Joel into the first room, surprised by the lavish furnishing. It was large, far larger than her father’s office had been. Against the far wall, sat a desk with a leather chair, and as Joel swung around the torch she realised there were two other rooms housed within this deceptively massive space.

Realising Ethan wasn’t behind her, she turned, searching for him in the darkness. Not daring to say his name and disturb the quiet, Juliet walked back towards the door, her steps quickening with her increasing panic. Where was he? What was wrong? Was he hurt?

Every worried thought vanished from Juliet’s head as she crashed to the floor.

With Joel’s torch pointed in the other direction, Juliet hadn’t seen the box on the ground. She hit the hard floor with a piercing cry, landing on her stomach. Juliet had to breathe through the intense pulse of nausea which attacked her.

“Ethan!” she cried, still searching for him, even from her position on the floor.

“Juliet!” Joel bellowed from the far corner of the room, as he ran over towards her.

As Juliet lifted her head, everything went into slow motion.

She could hear Joel’s footsteps thundering towards her, his torchlight bouncing off of the walls. And as the light hit the entryway, she noticed a black crack staining what was left of the white paint above the door. That wasn’t odd, every building was covered in cracks.

This one, however, was growing, rapidly.

“Ethan!” she screamed, not caring anymore who could hear her.

“I'm coming!” he yelled back, it sounded as though he was in a different room.

“No, no, no, no,” Juliet began to murmur, louder and louder, because the crack wasn’t just a crack anymore, it was a gaping hole in the wall. And as Juliet muttered out her final ‘ no’ the ceiling over the entryway came crashing down in a cloud of plaster and brick.

…………………………………

When the ceiling had finished collapsing, leaving only the wooden beams of the attic to protect them from the sky, Joel’s hands finally found her. He gripped Juliet by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet, his breaths heavy in her ear.

“You alright?” he demanded, brushing the white dust off of her face. His eyes were wild as they scanned her from head to toe.

Juliet gripped his arm tight and leaned forward, vomiting at their feet.

It really was like their time in the museum , she thought, grimly.

“Shhh,” Joel murmured, pulling back her knotted strands of dark hair as she continued to spit bile onto the floor.

Juliet couldn’t even feel the embarrassment of the situation. All she could focus on was the pain in her body and the warm touch of Joel’s fingers in her hair.

But as her mind returned to her, fierce panic struck her cold.

“Ethan,” she coughed. “He was in the hallway, Joel. Oh god, what if he’s…” she stuttered, her words spilling out of her. The rubble had sealed them in, she couldn’t see into the hallway at all.

“Etha -” she started to scream, moving to push past Joel. But he was quicker. Joel pulled Juliet to him so her backpack was pressed tight against his chest and he curled his large hand over her mouth. Juliet wriggled against him, trying to free herself from his intense grip.

Then she heard the sound that haunted so many of her nightmares.

Click.

Juliet choked on her breath, thankful for Joel’s hand over her mouth to quiet the sound.

Click.

They heard it again. This time, she could make out which direction it was coming from. The door to their left was left open and she could see a shadow starting to make its way towards the main room. Joel’s torch lay somewhere on the floor behind them, casting dramatic shadows over the room.

Juliet reached her hand out to grip Joel’s. He squeezed back, curling his fingers over her own, squeezing, as he released his other hand from her mouth. Juliet felt Joel slide his hand around to his back pocket and pull out his handgun. Another flood of panic struck her. Her gun flew from her hand when she tripped. It was somewhere on the floor, but without proper lighting, she couldn’t see where.

She needed that gun if she was going to get out of here. Without thinking, Juliet released Joel’s hand and took a step forward… onto a loose floorboard.

First, the wood screeched and groaned and Juliet froze, her entire body pausing mid-step. She squeezed her eyes shut and waited, cursing herself for her own stupidity.

Then came a different screech. A gargling, wet, scream erupted from the other room and the clicker came barreling into the main office space.

Juliet felt Joel grab her by the backpack and swing her around until she stood behind him. He raised his gun, aiming for the clicker’s head, but the shadows were making it difficult and it was getting too close.

Joel slammed into the clicker, still firing shots. Juliet watched in horror, she had no weapons, nothing to help kill the monster in his arms. Her eyes were wide and frantic as she scanned the floor for her gun.

Click.

Juliet’s head turned with a dizzying speed. There it was. Another clicker. It must have been in the back room. And now, it was headed straight for her.

Juliet darted to the side, evading its first attack. But as she moved, she quickly realised that she was backing herself into a wall. A scream crawled its way up her throat and she tried to dart her eyes towards Joel, but there was no time.

The clicker was rapidly approaching, Juliet could smell the decay simmering on its body. If she wasn’t so terrified she would have gagged again. Having no weapons, Juliet did the next best thing: she grabbed the large leather chair and swung it in front of her as the clicker finally caught up to her.

It slammed into the leather and what remained of its teeth snapped at her from behind the chair as its almost claw-like fingers missed her face by an inch. Her terror overpowered her, she didn’t realise it at first, but she was screaming. A fierce, blood curdling scream.

Across the room she heard another shot and the sound of a body hitting the ground. Through a gap in the chair, her eyes caught sight of a clicker on the ground. Dead.

“Jul -” Joel started to shout before he was cut off.

There was another clicker, behind Joel this time. Like Juliet, he was backed into a wall.

Tears started to flood down Juliet’s face as the clicker continued its snarling attack while Juliet crouched in terror. Juliet was beginning to realise that this wasn’t quite like the museum, afterall. Back then, Juliet had a weapon. Back then, Juliet had Joel. Back then, Juliet had a reason to fight.

But what was left for her now? Why was she still fighting against these monsters? She had nothing to protect herself with - what was the point?

Her father was dead. She had saved Ethan, and now he might be dead too. She had no family, nowhere to go. No real reason to go on.

Maybe there was nowhere safe left in the world. Maybe, in every room, in every building, in every city, there was a monster in the closet. Juliet didn’t know if she had the energy to fight them anymore.

She was supposed to die in that basement. She had accepted it.

Maybe now, it was time.

With another sob, Juliet eased her grip on the chair. Her decision washed over her, calming her terror. She’d had enough. She was done.

Still sheltered by the chair, Juliet used her last moment to find Joel. Tears blurred her vision, but she could make out his blurry figure kicking and slashing at the clicker. He was yelling something. Juliet thought it might be her name. But she wasn’t sure.

Without realising, Juliet had regained her grip on the chair, pushing it back against the clicker, stifling its attack. Her body shook with its movements. She continued staring at Joel as her panic returned. As she watched him struggle against the monster, Juliet struggled to catch her breath.

She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t watch Joel die. This wasn’t fair. He had to find his brother. He had to live. He still had a reason to go on.

He wasn’t supposed to die.

Juliet couldn’t look away from his quick, sharp movements. He drove his knife into the clicker over and over, with such strength and such fury as he screamed her name.

“Joel!” she yelled back, her voice croaky as his name spilled out of her without warning.

He had a knife.

Wait.

So did she.

Juliet braced herself, pushing with all her strength in her left arm as she freed her right and slid it down into her boot. When she brought it back up to push against the leather chair, between her fingers was her rose carved switchblade.

Her father’s guards hadn’t taken it.

It had been in her boot this whole time.

Juliet screamed with every bit of fury still left in her weary soul and pushed against the chair, knocking the clicker backwards. With the adrenaline pumping through her veins, her pain was no longer a concern, and Juliet leapt to her feet, scrambling over the chair. With one push from her finger, the blade sprung free. The clicker grabbed her shoulder, pulling her towards it, its teeth ready to slash into her neck.

But Juliet was faster. She used the clicker’s momentum to twist her body to the side and drive her knife into its neck. Black, slimy blood splattered across her face but the clicker kept coming at her. Juliet pulled the knife out with a force which almost knocked her backwards. She stumbled but straightened enough to drive the knife towards the clicker’s head, all while dodging its vicious attacks.

She pierced its open skull with her blade.

The clicker slowed but its attack continued.

Juliet pulled back and stabbed into the skull again, as the clicker’s fingers sliced against Joel’s jacket.

This time, the clicker dropped to the ground, releasing its grip on her.

For good measure, Juliet bent down and brought her knife down another few times. Not caring as more blood splattered her face.

“Juliet!” Joel grunted out from across the room.

She twisted, launching to her feet, almost tripping over the first fallen clicker as she ran to Joel.

Near him on the floor, she could see her gun lying where she had dropped it.

She picked it up, moved towards the clicker and fired a shot.

The clicker was propelled backwards with the bullet in its neck and the force from Joel’s kick. But it wasn’t enough, she needed a shot in the head. Juliet put all of her fear, anger and desperation into her next shot.

The clicker stilled on the floor, inky black blood oozing from its many wounds.

The clicker was dead but Juliet’s body was like a live wire. Her fingers shook so hard she thought she might drop her gun.

Her eyes moved from the monster on the floor to the man against the wall. Joel stood with his hands on his knees, breathing heavy.

“Are you okay?” Juliet gasped out as she staggered over to him, tucking her gun into her pocket.

Before she could reach him, Joel closed the gap between them in two strides, grabbing hold of her shoulders. His face was coated in sweat and his eyes were blazing, they were entirely black. Juliet should have been terrified of him. He was the picture of danger and rage. But all she felt was relief. He was alive. He was safe. He was okay.

Joel’s hands moved from her shoulders to her face. His fingers roamed over her forehead, down to her chin, behind her neck, across her collarbone, under his jacket, under her flannel.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” Joel growled as his fingers continued their exploration. Juliet thought he was looking for bites but this felt different. It felt like he was assessing every inch of her, desperately feeling for himself if she was alive, if she was actually standing in front of him.

Juliet did the same, she reached up to his face and cupped her hand over his jaw as her eyes met his. “Do what?” she whispered back. Her body shivered with Joel’s touch. He was unrelenting, his hands roamed everywhere. After a long look into her questioning eyes, his head dropped to her neck and his lips started to roam the delicate skin behind her ear. Juliet couldn’t help the moan that slipped out.

“Make me think you were dead,” Joel replied with a murmur against her neck. Juliet felt his words under her skin, his rough, low, voice sank deeper, and deeper into her body.

“Can’t lose you,” he continued as his hands squeezed her waist. It was like he was in a trance, Juliet could feel his heartbeat pounding against her chest. She felt frenzied, she couldn’t get enough of him. Was this how being alive was supposed to feel?

Joel pulled back until their eyes met again. His black stare melted into her own as his hand left her waist and his thumb brushed over her lips.

“So beautiful,” he said with a low growl which, combined with his southern drawl, made his words almost unintelligible.

But Juliet heard him, and she could read the words written in his deep stare. His thumb brushed back and forth over her lips and warmth flooded Juliet’s entire body.

With a low groan rumbling from his chest, Joel closed the gap between them.

His mouth crashed onto Juliet’s and Joel wasted no time parting her lips. Their kiss wasn’t sweet, it wasn’t nice, it wasn’t gentle. It was hot, messy, and wrong, so wrong. Joel’s fingers gripped the back of her neck, pushing her closer, holding her in place as his mouth claimed her’s. Juliet palmed his chest, reaching under his shirt, gripping his belt, pulling him closer. She needed him with a primal intensity. Colours flashed across her vision as their teeth crashed into each other.

Joel’s chest rumbled with low growls as Juliet attempted to say his name with every quick breath. Her mind echoed over and over: Joel, Joel, Joel, Joel. It was like a chant, a prayer. But she needed more. The hand tucked under his shirt spread around to his back and Juliet scratched her torn nails down his skin. Joel’s tongue invaded her mouth in response as his other hand tugged her hair into his tight grip.

Still, she needed more.

Juliet pushed against Joel until he was pressed against the wall behind them. She couldn’t get enough, her entire body was on fire. Her hands were everywhere, they rounded the front of his shirt this time and then started to descend lower, and lower until her fingers tugged on his belt. She felt his hips thrust as his teeth nipped at her lips and his hand tugged tighter on her hair. Her fingers shook as she struggled against his belt buckle -

“Juliet? Joel?!” a voice called from a distance.

Juliet launched herself from Joel, stumbling backwards as flung herself from his orbit. Joel stood plastered against the wall, his hair a mess and his shirt open, revealing the trail of hair leading into his dark jeans. The place her hand just pressed against.

“Juliet! Can you hear me?”

Ethan.

“Oh god,” Juliet gasped out as she lifted her fingers to her mouth, feeling her swollen lips. What had she done? How could she have forgotten Ethan?

Joel stared down at her, making no move to fix himself. He was waiting to see what she would do, how she would react.

Juliet spun around, finally remembering the devastation around her. There were three dead clickers on the floor and they were sealed in with the debris from the ceiling. Ethan was in the hallway, calling her name. And what was Juliet doing? Kissing Joel. She could barely verbalise those words inside her own head.

It felt so good. Juliet didn’t know she could feel like that. She didn’t know those feelings even existed.

“Juliet” Ethan called again, his voice was desperate, terrified for her.

Her guilt strangled her.

“Ethan!” she yelled, stumbling over to the debris. “I’m here, I’m here.”

Juliet started to pull against the plaster and bricks which blocked their exit and Ethan did the same from the other side. She didn’t dare turn around, she couldn’t bear to see the look on Joel’s face. What could she say to him? She didn’t even understand what just happened. So, Juliet kept pulling against the debris, clearing the way. The adrenaline still numbed the pain but when Joel appeared behind her and started to help, Juliet breathed a sigh of relief.

After a few minutes, they had cleared enough for Ethan to find his way into the room. He scanned the three clickers on the ground and swallowed rough, before meeting Juliet’s eyes.

“That makes four then,” he said.

“You killed one?” Juliet gasped out. That must have been why he disappeared. Had Ethan been battling a clicker this entire time? “Ethan, god. Are you okay?” she asked, moving closer to him. His clothes didn’t look torn and the only mark on him was the black, inky blood of the clickers. Juliet let out a heavy sigh of relief when he nodded.

Then, without warning, he moved forward and pulled Juliet against him. His hand brushed over her hair with such gentleness. Nothing like Joel’s vicious grip. Juliet’s face reddened at the thought.

She opened her eyes as Ethan rubbed her back in soothing circles. He was trying to comfort her, she assumed. But Juliet wasn’t looking for comfort, she didn’t want soft touches and gentle words. Juliet scanned the room for Joel and found him standing against the entryway, his hand flexing over the handle of his gun. His jaw shifted when he met her eyes. They were still black, still staring at her with a fire blazing in them and when he looked at Ethan’s hands, cradled around her, his stare turned lethal.

Juliet bit her lip, and watched as Joel’s eyes followed her movement. His hand gripped his gun tighter.

Ethan pulled away, but continued to rest his hands on her arms. “You’re going to be okay,” he promised her. But Juliet wasn’t listening, her gaze was still focused on the man behind him. The man who would never offer such words of reassurance in this unstable world. Juliet felt remorseful at the thought and made an effort to meet Ethan’s eyes with a small, accepting smile. She didn’t mean to compare them. Ethan was being kind, trying to calm her.

But he didn’t know that Joel’s touch frightened her more than the clickers ever could. He didn’t know that she could still taste him in her mouth. He didn’t know that Juliet liked that fear.

He didn’t know that it was the only thing that made her feel alive.

When Juliet searched for those dark eyes again, they were gone. Joel had turned away, shielding her from the thoughts etched on his face.

Yet as she looked down, she watched his hand flex at his side, almost as though he was shaking off the feeling of her touch.

_________________________

@amyispxnk @shotgun-shelby @http-paprika

#joel miller #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller hbo #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #ao3 fanfic #joel miller angst #pedro pascal #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #Spotify

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tonyspank · 9 months

Text

CHAPTER FOUR | RECKLESS

Tara Carpenter x G!P Reader x Female OC

Warnings: a lot of violence, some death, zombies, angst, smut, just a field of emotions tbh + this is almost 10k words

A/N: i hope this chapter makes sense i tried to do different points of view but it kinda sounds silly (and i used grammarly to edit this) also! after this is the epilogue

series masterlist | main masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

You point at a certain mark on the map, triggering Chad to sigh, and shake his head. "Chad, we have to go past here, or we're going to go back home empty-handed. Chad sighs again, his expression filled with frustration. "I know, but what if we keep looking here? We could've missed something."

You clench your jaw, "We've been searching here for the past three weeks, Chad." Chad looks down at the map, contemplating your words. After a moment, Wes speaks up, joining in the conversation. "Maybe it's time to consider exploring other areas. There's a chance that we might find what we're looking for elsewhere."

Chad looks up, contemplating Wes's suggestion, before finally nodding in agreement. "Alright, let's broaden our search and see if we have better luck in a different location." Finally agreeing on another area to search, you all get back into the truck, hoping to find enough to feed your community.

There's been a shortage in the community's inventory. It seems like food is just not as plentiful as it used to be. Despite their best efforts, the current location hasn't yielded enough resources to sustain everyone.

People are getting frustrated due to their hunger, and tensions are starting to rise. It's crucial to find a new location with abundant resources soon, as the community's well-being depends on it.

The thought of returning empty-handed fills you with dread, knowing that it would only fuel the growing unrest among your fellow community members. You silently pray for a stroke of luck and that this new location can provide the nourishment your people desperately seek.

When you arrive, you notice Chad's uneasiness. "You okay?" you ask, concerned. Chad hesitates before answering, "I'm just worried about what we'll find here. We've been disappointed before, and I don't know if we can handle another setback." You understand his fears and reassure him that together, you will face whatever challenges lie ahead.

You grip your pistol tighter, ready to defend yourself and your group if necessary. Chad hops out of the car, with you and Wes following behind him. "Walker to our left," you announce, keeping your voice low.

Wes nods at you, silently jogging over to kill the flesh-eating creature before it becomes a threat. Chad scans the area, his eyes darting between the abandoned buildings and overgrown vegetation, searching for any other signs of danger.

You take a deep breath, the weight of the situation settling in as you prepare for the unknown lurking in the shadows. The tension in the air is obvious, but you trust in your group's abilities to navigate this risky panorama.

"Let's check out that building ahead." You suggest, pointing towards the best-looking structure that appears to be relatively intact. Chad nods in agreement, and together you cautiously make your way toward it, keeping a watchful eye for any potential dangers that may arise along the way.

You reach for your flashlight, illuminating the room with a beam of light that reveals the remnants of a once vibrant space. Dust-covered furniture and torn wallpaper hint at the life that once thrived here, but now only silence and emptiness remain. Chad scans the room, his eyes darting from corner to corner, searching for any signs of danger.

A sudden creaking noise echoes through the stillness, causing your hearts to skip a beat. Chad instinctively grabs your arm, his grip tightening as you both freeze in anticipation. Slowly, you turn towards the source of the sound, ready to face whatever awaits you in this mysterious place.

You relax, it was only a walker. Its decaying body lurches towards you, its hollow eyes staring blankly ahead. Chad raises his knife, ready to defend both of you from the threat. With ease, he kills it, sending it collapsing to the ground.

"Guys," you both turn your heads to Wes, who stares at a map nailed to the wall. "Look at this," Wes says, pointing to a marked location on the map. "It's marked food." You and Chad approach Wes, inspecting the map closely. "Yeah, but what if it's a trap?" Chad says, eyeing the map suspiciously.

"We can't afford to take any chances," you respond, considering the possibility. "But if it's true, finding a source of food could be a game-changer for us." Wes nods at your words.

"I agree," Wes says, his voice filled with hope. "We've been scavenging for weeks, and our supplies are running dangerously low. Plus, if it were a trap, whose would it be? It's a dead zone out here." Chad's skepticism wavers slightly as he contemplates the potential benefits.

He looks at the map again, tracing his finger over the marked location. "If there's even a small chance that we could find a reliable source of food, it might be worth the risk," Chad admits reluctantly.

You can see the weariness in his eyes, the exhaustion from weeks of uncertainty and constant danger. But there's also a glimmer of hope, a flicker of desperation that makes him willing to entertain the possibility.

"Okay, fine. But in and out, we'll park the car outside the warehouse, load it up, and then leave." Chad's voice trembles slightly as he lays out the plan, his determination masking his underlying fear.

He knows that every decision they make now carries immense consequences, and the thought of being caught in a vulnerable position gnaws at him. However, the prospect of securing a stable food supply for the community pushes him to take this calculated risk.

"Alright." You smile and say, "Let's do this." Wes smiles, checking to see if his AR is fully loaded and ready to go. Chad can't help but smile as well, holding up his hand. "High five!"

You playfully roll your eyes before meeting Wes and Chad in a three-way high five.

"In and out," Chad repeats, you nod, kicking in the warehouse door. The door swings open, and the three of you step inside, ready to execute the plan with precision and efficiency. The dimly lit warehouse stretches out before you, filled with crates and shelves that hold the promise of a stable food supply for your community.

As you make your way deeper into the warehouse, the musty smell of old cardboard fills the air. Dust particles dance in the beams of sunlight that filter through the small windows. The silence is broken only by the occasional creaking of the floorboards beneath your feet.

The three of you move in sync, navigating through the maze of crates and shelves with practiced ease. Each step brings you closer to your goal, the anticipation building with every passing moment. The success of this mission could mean the difference between survival and starvation for your community.

As you reach the end of the dimly lit storage room, you spot the crate you've been searching for. With bated breath, you carefully pry it open to reveal its precious contents - a stash of much-needed food supplies.

Relief washes over you as you realize that your community will have enough to eat for the foreseeable future. "Fuck yeah," Wes mumbles, sending you a smile.

You return Wes's smile, knowing that this small victory will provide hope and nourishment for everyone. Wes quickly picks up the container, and loading it into the truck. You pick up your own container, with Chad doing the same before heading towards the truck as well.

Chad shuts the truck, "Let's go." You shake your head, "We have like two more containers." Chad raises an eyebrow, his expression turning serious. "Are you sure? We've already loaded a lot."

You nod confidently, pointing towards the remaining containers. "I'll--" You're interrupted by the sound of gunshots, echoing through the air. Wes jumps in the car, panic evident on his face. "We need to go, now!" he shouts.

Chad quickly jumps into the driver's seat, trying to start the engine as you scramble to get inside. The urgency in Wes's voice sends a shiver down your spine as you realize the situation has taken a dangerous turn.

"Fuck! The car isn't starting!" You frantically glance around, searching for an alternative escape route. Gunshots ring out again, hitting your car. You duck down instinctively, feeling the bullets whiz past you.

"Oh, shit." The car's engine finally roars, and Chad slams his foot on the gas pedal, propelling the car forward with a screech.

"Watch out!" You shout at Chad, a figure in black stands in the middle of the road, a shotgun in their hand. Adrenaline courses through your veins as you brace yourself for impact, but Chad skillfully swerves to avoid the figure. The car narrowly misses them, and you both let out a sigh of relief as you speed away, leaving the dangerous turn behind.

"Who the hell was that?" Wes asks from the back seat, leaning up to look between you and Chad. You exchange a puzzled glance with Chad before responding, "I'm not sure, but whoever they were, they definitely meant trouble. We should report this to Gale and Dewey."

"No!" Chad yells, his voice filled with urgency. "We can't tell them we went past the safe zone." Chad's eyes widen with fear as he continues, "If they find out, we'll be in serious trouble."

You and Wes exchange worried looks, realizing the seriousness of Chad's words. The consequences of venturing beyond the safe zone without authorization could be severe, but you also understand the importance of reporting the encounter to Gale and Dewey for everyone's safety.

Like every other mission, you're greeted by the police force, who loads everything back up, including Gale, Iris, and Tara. "I'll tell her," Chad says, walking past you and to Gale. You watch as Chad approaches Gale, his look serious.

Tara runs to you, bringing you into a tight hug. "I'm so glad you're okay," she whispers, her voice filled with relief. You hug her back, smiling. "Like every time. I told you, I'm not going anywhere."

Tara pulls away from the hug slightly, grinning up at you. "I know, but I still worry," she says, her eyes sparkling with affection. "You mean a lot to me." You feel comfort in your heart as Tara's words sink in. "You mean a lot to me too, Tara," you reply wholeheartedly.

Her smile expands before she brings you into a long kiss. The kiss is filled with love and reassurance, a silent promise that you'll always be there for each other. She pulls away, her eyes shining with happiness.

You don't notice Iris watching the whole scene from across the room, jealousy and longing evident in her eyes. She quickly turns away, pretending not to have seen anything, but you can't help but wonder what she's thinking.

"I have to talk to Gale." You tell Tara, and Tara holds your hand, shaking your hand. "Chad has all that handled, relax, babe. You don't need to worry about anything," Tara assures you, her voice soothing and comforting.

You take a deep breath, trying to trust in Chad's abilities and let go of your concerns. Tara walks you home, staying by your side as you navigate through the empty streets. "You wanna come in? I can tell you have something on your mind." You ask Tara, opening your front door.

Tara hesitates for a moment before nodding, grateful for the offer. "Sure," she says, stepping inside your home. "I'll shower, and I'll be right back." You tell Tara, who sits on the couch, making herself comfortable. When you return from the shower, you find Tara engrossed in a book she found on your coffee table. The sight warms your heart, knowing that she feels at ease in your home.

You join her on the couch and ask, "So, what's on your mind?" She closes the book and looks at you, a hint of vulnerability flashes in her eyes. "I've been thinking a lot about me and you," she confesses. "I...want you to be my girlfriend."

Your heart skips a beat as you process Tara's words, and you can't help but smile. "I've been thinking about us too," you reply, gently taking her hand in yours. "And I would love nothing more than to be your girlfriend."

Tara smiles, moves to sit closer to you, and rests her head on your shoulder. "I'm so glad you feel the same way," she whispers softly. "I've never felt this way about anyone before." You wrap your arm around her and say, "Me either."

"Now we can both relax, huh?" Tara says, letting out a relieved sigh. "No more uncertainty or wondering where we stand." You nod in agreement, "I could make you relax even more if you'd like."

Tara raises an eyebrow, "I just poured my heart out to you, and you wanna get dirty?" You chuckle and shake your head, "No, that's not what I meant. I just meant that I'll always be here for you, to support and comfort you whenever you need it."

Tara blushes slightly and smiles, "Oh...but I wasn't opposed to the other idea either."

Your eyes widen, surprised by Tara's response. You laugh nervously, unsure of how to respond. "Well, uh...we can definitely explore that idea too if you're open to it," you say, fiddling with the end of the couch. Tara's smile widens, and she leans in closer. "I think I am," she whispers, her voice filled with anticipation.

You lean in closer as well, connecting your lips. The kiss is soft and gentle, igniting a spark between the two of you. Tara smiles against your lips, her hands finding their way to your face.

You deepen the kiss, moving Tara to straddle you. Tara pulls away, panting slightly. "Do you wanna take this to the bedroom?" she asks, her eyes filled with desire.

You nod, scooping up your girlfriend in your arms. Carrying her effortlessly, you make your way toward the bedroom, feeling the electricity between you intensify with every step. Tara's breath quickens as you lay her down gently on the bed, trailing kisses along her neck and collarbone.

Her body arches in response, a soft moan escaping her lips. "Y/N..." she gasps.

You pause, looking into Tara's eyes, seeing the hunger and longing mirrored in them. "Yes, Tara?" you whisper, your voice filled with anticipation. Her fingers tangle in your hair, pulling you closer. "I want you," she breathes, her voice laced with need.

You can feel your heart racing as her words echo in your ears. Without a word, you crash your lips against hers, your tongue eagerly exploring the depths of her mouth. The taste of her lips and the urgency in her kiss consume you.

Her hands leave your hair, dragging from your chest to the end of your shirt before sliding underneath, her touch sending goosebumps rippling across your skin. "Take it off," she mumbles against your lips.

You oblige, quickly removing your shirt and tossing it aside. Her hand trails down your bare torso, tracing the contours of your muscles, igniting a fiery desire within you. You then reach for the hem of her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, revealing her smooth skin and the curve of her waist.

You press a kiss on her stomach, feeling her muscles tense under your lips. Her breath hitches, "Fuck, Y/N, just fuck me." The intensity of her words sends a shiver down your spine, fueling your desire even further. You kiss her hungrily, and your hands wander to the button of her pants, eagerly undoing it.

Tara reaches for your hands, intertwining her fingers with yours, as she guides them to the clasp of her bra. With practiced ease, you unhook the clasp, freeing her breasts from their confinement. They spill out, full and inviting, and you can't help but lean in to capture one of her nipples in your mouth, teasing it with your tongue.

Tara's moan fills the room, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. Her hands move to your hair, pulling you closer as she arches her back in pleasure. "Baby, please. I want you inside me."

You let go of her nipple, savoring the taste on your lips and meet her gaze filled with lust. With a knowing smile, you whisper in her ear, "Patience, my love. I wanna take my time with you."

Your hands eagerly explore her body, tracing the curves that have captivated you for so long. You marvel at how smooth her skin feels under your fingertips, the way her muscles tense and relax as you caress her. Her soft moans of anticipation only fuel your desire, as you continue to worship every inch of her with your touch.

Your finger lifts the hem of her underwear, revealing a glimpse of the hidden treasures that lie beneath. With a teasing smile, you slowly slide her underwear down her legs, exposing her to your hungry gaze.

The sight before you takes your breath away—her delicate folds glistening with arousal, begging to be explored. You lean in, your warm breath grazing her skin, as you whisper, "Are you ready for me, my love?"

She responds with a soft whimper, her body trembling in anticipation. With a gentle nod, she whispers back, "Yes, please...fuck."

Without hesitancy, you position yourself between her parted thighs, ready to fulfill her deepest desires. Your hands, now guided by a primal instinct, caress her soft skin, tracing the contours of her body, heightening her senses.

The room fills with the intoxicating scent of her arousal, as you lean in closer, feeling the heat radiating from her core.

You can hear her breath hitch as you brush your lips against hers, teasingly. A soft moan escapes her parted lips, her need for you growing with every passing moment. Your tongue gently teases her, licking against her clit. Her body arches in response, aching for more of your touch.

"Shit!" You hear her whisper, her hands gripping the sheets, craving the release that only you can provide. You continue to explore her, your fingers sliding inside her wetness, matching the rhythm of your tongue. Her hips buck against your hand, desperate for deeper penetration.

She gasps, her eyes locking with yours, silently begging for the connection to intensify. You oblige, increasing the pressure and speed of your movements, driving her closer to the edge of ecstasy.

Her breath hitches as you skillfully curl your fingers inside her, hitting just the right spot. The intensity of her pleasure builds, and she gasps for air, her eyes locked with yours, silently begging for that final release. "I...I'm so close, Y/N..."

You can feel her body tense, her muscles quivering with anticipation. As she reaches the peak of her pleasure, her body convulses in ecstasy, a guttural moan escaping her lips. "Yes, yes, fuck!"

Your hand never falters, continuing its rhythmic motion, prolonging her orgasm, and ensuring her ultimate satisfaction. Finally, her body relaxes, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she catches her breath, a grateful smile spreading across her face.

You smile back at her and say, "You still think elevator horror beats Jason?" She playfully rolls her eyes, "Shut the hell up." Before you could make another comment, she brings you into a heated kiss, her lips eagerly meeting yours.

"Lay down, baby." You hear her whisper in a seductive tone, and you comply, not wasting a second. Tara's hands fly to your pants, pulling them down along with your boxers with urgency.

Your hard-on immediately springs free, throbbing with anticipation. Tara's touch sends shivers down your spine as she takes you in her hand, her grip firm and confident. "Mmm, fuck."

You moan in pleasure, unable to contain the intense sensation that courses through your body. Tara's lips trail down your neck, leaving a trail of hot kisses, as her hand continues to stroke you with expert precision. The room fills with the sound of your heavy breathing, mixing with the soft moans escaping your lips.

You whine when Tara pulls away, leaving you craving more of her touch. She locks eyes with you, a cheeky smile playing on her lips. She lowers herself on your cock, taking you deep inside her with a satisfied sigh. "Shit, Tara. You're so tight."

Tara's hips begin to move in a rhythmic motion, matching the intensity of your breathless moans. Your hand grips her waist, guiding her movements as you both find a steady rhythm. Tara moans, closing her eyes in blissful surrender to the pleasure coursing through her body.

You wrap a hand around her throat, forcing her to look up at you. Her eyes widen in astonishment and excitement as you assert your dominance.

The added pressure intensifies the pleasure for both of you, heightening the connection between your bodies. Tara's moans grow louder, fueling your desire to take her to new heights of ecstasy.

"Look at me, love." You command, your voice laced with desire and authority. Tara's eyes lock with yours, a mix of vulnerability and passion shining through. "Y/N..." she whispers, her voice dripping with adoration. "I'm all yours," she breathes, surrendering herself completely to your dominance.

You can feel the trust she has in you, as her body responds eagerly to your every touch and command. You place your feet flat on the bed, meeting her hips with a powerful thrust, causing her to gasp and arch her back in pleasure. "Ahh, fuck, yes...!"

You lose yourself in the rhythm of your bodies colliding. The sounds of skin slapping against skin mixed with heavy breathing makes the moment feel incredibly intense and raw. Tara's eyes roll back in her head as she moans uncontrollably, her nails digging into your chest.

"I'm so close, baby." She whines, biting down on her lower lip. You nod, feeling yourself getting closer as well, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable level. "Cum with me, love."

You whisper, tangled in the ecstasy of the moment, urging each other on, desperate to reach the peak together. Your thumb begins teasing her sensitive spot, eliciting a sharp gasp from Tara. As her grip tightens on your chest, her breathing becomes more erratic.

The room fills with the sounds of your mutual pleasure, each moan and gasp pushing you both closer to the edge.

The intensity of the moment builds and builds, until finally, with one final thrust, you both shatter into a blissful release. The world around you fades away as you cling to each other, basking in the aftershocks of your intense connection.

As the waves of pleasure subside, Tara's body relaxes against yours, her breath slowly returning to a steady rhythm. You run your fingers through her hair, savoring the intimate closeness and the lingering warmth between you.

In the silence that follows, you exchange a knowing smile, an unspoken acknowledgment of the deep bond you share. Tara raises her head from your chest, pressing a kiss on your nose. You chuckle, hugging her tighter until she falls asleep.

You barge into Gale's living room, surprising her and Sidney. Gale and Sidney jump up from the couch, startled by your sudden entrance. You apologize for the intrusion, explaining that you have urgent news to share. "We were shot at...during the mission earlier."

Sidney's jaw drops, and Gale's eyes widen in shock. They exchange a worried glance before Gale asks, "Are you both okay? What happened?"

You take a deep breath and recount the harrowing details of the ambush, Gale's eyes widen even more as she listens intently. Sidney's face grows pale, her hands trembling slightly.

The room falls silent as you finish describing the close call and the narrow escape. Both Gale and Sidney are visibly shaken, realizing the gravity of the situation.

"Gale...you should tell her," Sidney says, her voice barely above a whisper. Gale looks at Sidney, hesitation evident in her eyes. "Tell me what?"

Gale takes a moment to gather her thoughts, her gaze shifting between you and Sidney. Finally, she musters the courage to speak. "There's something you need to know about that ambush," Gale begins, her voice filled with apprehension.

TWO WEEKS LATER

"It's been two weeks, and they haven't attacked us," Dewey says, his tone laced with concern. "I think they might be planning something bigger, something more dangerous." Gale nods in agreement, her expression growing more serious.

"The best thing we can do is just continue fortifying the walls and staying stacked on ammunition."

Sidney leans in, her eyes narrowing with worry. "But what happens when they get through the walls? Everyone here isn't fit to fight." Officer Bailey and a lot of the other officers nod in agreement at Sidney's words.

"Everyone who can't fight should exit the community as safely and quietly as possible without being undetected. While the ones who can fight, fight. We fight until we can't defend this place." You say, your voice firm and determined.

"We'll need to come up with a plan to prioritize the safety of those who can't fight, ensuring they have a clear escape route and any necessary resources."

Chad nods, speaking up. "Y/N's right. But the thing is, we don't know how many of them there are." Chad's concern is valid, as we lack information about the strength and number of our enemies.

"We also don't know what weapons they have. What if they show up with just knives?" Sam adds, uncrossing her arms. You, Chad, Dewey, Gale, Sidney, Officer Bailey, Officer Kirby, and Officer Hicks all glance at each other, knowing that facing enemies armed with knives would still pose a significant threat.

Officer Bailey breaks the silence, suggesting, "We need to be prepared for the worst-case scenario. We don't want to run into a death trap by underestimating the enemy." Nodding in agreement, you all begin discussing the best course of action, understanding the importance of being well-prepared for any possible outcome.

Mindy, Anika, and Heather's heads turn to the door, which opened with a creak. Someone walks through Heather's bedroom door in a Ghostface costume. Mindy laughs, raising her head from Anika's chest. Heather smiles and says, Amber, babe, where did you find that?"

The Ghostface just stands there, silently staring at the three friends. Mindy's laughter fades as a sense of unease settles in the room. Anika cautiously asks, "Amber, is that you?"

The Ghostface remains motionless, causing a shiver to run down their spines. Suddenly, the masked figure lunges forward, making them all scream in terror. Mindy and Anika jump from the bed, along with Heather, who grabs her lamp and throws it at Ghostface's head.

The lamp shatters on impact, momentarily stunning the masked figure. They take advantage of the distraction to scramble towards the door, desperately trying to escape their attacker's reach.

Ghostface trips Anika before she can reach the door, causing her to fall to the ground. Mindy and Heather turn back, their hearts pounding in fear, as they realize they can't leave Anika behind. "Anika!" Mindy shouts for her girlfriend, running to rescue her but only earning a slice in her arm.

Heather looks around the hall, not finding a weapon to use, instead, she runs into the next room to search. Anika grabs Ghostface's cloak, trying to pull them down and away from Mindy. Anika's desperate attempt to save Mindy only angers Ghostface further, who retaliates by wrapping a hand around her neck and stabbing her in the stomach.

Anika screams in pain as Ghostface twists the knife in her stomach. Heather, hearing Anika's screams, rushes back into the room with a fire extinguisher in hand. With adrenaline coursing through her veins, she swings the heavy object at Ghostface, hitting them square in the head.

The impact momentarily stuns Ghostface, giving Heather enough time to grab Anika and Mindy and pull them to safety.

Heather shuts the door to Iris's room, her heart dropping as she notices her dead body in the bed. She fights back tears, realizing that Iris has become Ghostface's latest victim. "No...no..." she mumbles, walking over to the bed to check for any signs of life.

As Heather searches for a pulse, her trembling hands find none, confirming Iris's tragic fate. "Not my sister, no..." she cries, clutching her chest in disbelief. Memories of their childhood flood her mind, making the loss even more unbearable.

"Heather! The door!" Mindy yells, snapping Heather out of her grief-stricken daze. Startled, Heather turns towards the door and sees it wide open, realizing that Ghostface may still be lurking nearby. Fear grips her as she realizes she must now not only mourn her sister's death but also fight for her own survival.

Heather quickly shuts the door, pushing her dresser against it. She jumps when Ghostface begins kicking on it, desperately trying to break through. The sound of each thud sends shivers down her spine, but Heather refuses to let fear paralyze her.

She scans the room for any means of defense, her mind racing with thoughts of how to outsmart the masked intruder and protect herself from a similar fate as her sister.

She runs to her window, seeing someone walking down the street. Quickly opening it, she begins shouting his name. "Wes! Wes!" Desperation fills her voice as she hopes that Wes will hear her cries for help.

Thankfully, Wes turns his head, confused. Heather waves frantically, catching Wes's attention. She stops waving her hands, her heart dropping, when she notices another Ghostface behind Wes. "WES! BEHIND YOU!"

Heather's heart races as she watches in horror, realizing that Wes is in immediate danger. Panic sets in as she desperately tries to warn him of the masked intruder lurking behind him.

But Wes, unaware of the danger, continues to walk toward Heather, his eyes still fixed on her. Heather's voice trembles as she screams, "Wes, please, turn around!" Wes takes another step closer, completely oblivious to the imminent threat.

She lets out a sob as Wes's body falls to the ground, a scream escaping her lips. The masked killer stands over him before snapping their head at Heather.

Everyone jumps at the sound of a crash. You quickly look at Gale, who looks at Dewey. "It's them." Without wasting a moment, everyone springs to action, ready to fight off the attack on their community.

Everyone moves in flow as they execute the plan, each person knowing their role and working seamlessly together. You and Chad run to the armory, your hearts dropping when the guns are gone. Ethan runs into the armory and says, " We've been raided. They took all the weapons."

"Fuck!" You shout, quickly leaving the armory and pulling out your knife. "Chad, go make sure the perimeter is secure and warn the others. We'll have to rely on our hand-to-hand combat skills for now." Chad nods and sprints off, while you and Ethan run in the direction the crash came from.

"Do you...do you think Tara and Quinn are okay?" Ethan asks, in worry for your girlfriend and for his sister. You glance at Ethan, concern evident in your eyes. "I don't know, I know they can handle themselves." With determination, you both pick up your pace, catching up with Sidney, Gale, and Dewey.

They're on the lookout post, staring down at people that stand outside the gate. You quickly climb up the post, standing beside Sidney. You look down, seeing two men in black cloaks, with Ghostface masks in their hands. "Suprise, Sidney!" One of them shouts, a jolly smile on his lips.

Sidney shakes her head, her eyes never leaving the sight in front of her. "What's the matter, Sidney? You look like you seen a ghost." The other says, a smirk playing on his lips. Sidney's heart races as she recognizes the familiar taunting voice.

Another Ghostface appears, exiting the truck that tries to ram through your walls. He takes off his mask, earning a mumble from Sidney. "Mickey..."

Mickey smirks, "Surprise again, Sidney. Scared, aren't you?" Sidney clenches her fists, her voice filled with determination. "I'm not scared of you, Mickey. I've faced worse." Mickey's smirk increases, "Well, can you face all of us...including this truck full of walkers?"

Sidney's eyes widen as she glances at the truck, realizing the magnitude of the threat. She takes a deep breath, her resolve unwavering. "Bring it on, Mickey. I'll take on whatever you throw at me."

You walk over to Dewey and Gale, "Someone stole all of our guns. There has to be more of them inside." Dewey's eyes widen in disbelief, while Gale's expression turns grim. "We can't face them without any weapons," Dewey mutters, his voice filled with concern.

Gale nods in agreement, her gaze fixed on the truck full of walkers. "We need to find a way to arm ourselves before it's too late," she says.

You and Dewey climb down the lookout post, "Ah, Dewey! Where ya going? The party's getting started!" Stu shouts, leaning against the truck with a mischievous grin. Dewey ignores the man, turning to you.

"We need to find a place where we can scavenge for weapons," Dewey says, his eyes scanning the area for any signs of potential armaments. You nod in agreement, knowing that time is of the essence if you want to stand a chance against the approaching horde.

Chad runs behind his home, searching for his hidden gun box. "Fuck!" He shouts, realizing that it's been emptied.

"Sidney...Jill's on her way." Billy says, using his knife to scratch his head. "She's bringing another truck of walkers. You and your friends will not survive this." Gale shakes her head, "Neither will you fuckers."

Gale's defiance is met with a grim smile from Billy. "We'll see about that," he mutters, resoluteness flashing in his eyes.

Heather's heartbeat slows when the kicking stops/. "We have to get...Anika to the doctor." Mindy mutters, her voice filled with urgency. "She's lost a lot of blood." Anika groans, "Can you please say something more positive?"

Heather looks at Anika with concern, her voice trembling slightly. "We'll find a way to get you the help you need, Anika. Hang in there." Heather starts to search Iris's drawers, looking for a weapon in case Ghostface is still lurking nearby. She grabs a gun, checking to make sure it's loaded and ready for use.

Heather moves the dresser before quickly opening the door to the hallway, scanning for any signs of danger. She sees no immediate threats and motions for Anika to follow her. "Come on, let's get out of here and find help," she says, her voice filled with persistence.

Anika nods weakly, mustering all her strength to stand up and follow Heather to safety, Mindy helps her, and the both of them follow Heather.

As they make their way down the hallway, Heather keeps a watchful eye on their surroundings, her grip on the gun tightening. Mindy whispers words of encouragement to Anika, urging her to keep moving despite her weakened state.

With each step, they can feel the weight of their fear slowly lifting as they inch closer to the possibility of safety.

Heather nearly shoots as Chad bursts through the door, but quickly realizes it's him and lowers her weapon. Chad, out of breath and covered in dirt, explains that he managed to escape from the attackers and has been searching for them.

"Where the fuck is Y/N?" Heather shouts, "Iris is dead! She's dead, Chad!" Chad's face turns pale as he absorbs Heather's words, his heart sinking with grief. "I... I don't know," he stammers, his voice trembling. "We got separated during the chaos. We have to keep moving, Heather."

"SAM!" Richie calls out, walking further into Sam and Tara's house. He scans the rooms, his voice echoing through the empty hallways. Worried, Richie's mind races with thoughts of what could have happened to Sam. "Tara? Are you here?" he calls out, hoping for a response that would ease his growing concern.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Sam asks as he emerges from a nearby room, his face etched with confusion and surprise. Richie's relief washes over him as he realizes that Sam is safe. "I came looking for you," Richie explains, his voice filled with genuine concern. "We need to stick together; we're under attack."

Sam's confusion turns to alarm as he takes in Richie's words. "Under attack? By who?" he asks, his voice tinged with fear. Richie takes a deep breath, trying to steady himself before responding. "These group of people in Ghostface costumes."

"Where's my sister? Have you seen Tara?" Richie shakes his head, his worry evident in his eyes. "I haven't seen her," he admits. "But we need to find her and get to safety before it's too late." Sam nods, running to the door, but Richie stops her.

"I'm really glad you're safe, Sam..." Richie says, his voice filled with relief. Sam gives him a small smile, grateful for his concern. He walks closer, a small smile on his lips. "Because I really...really wanted to be the one to kill you." Before Sam can react, Richie stabs her, leaving her shocked and gasping for breath.

"Here. Take this." You say, handing Danny, Ethan, Quinn, Liv, and Frankie a handmade weapon. "Liv, I want you to get everyone who can't fight out of the community as fast as possible, you too, Quinn. Lead them to a safe place." Ethan and Quinn nod, before quickly leaving.

"Ethan, go check on Sidney and Gale, make sure the walkers aren't in the walls yet." Ethan nods and rushes off to check on Sidney and Gale, ensuring the safety of the community from the approaching walkers. "Danny and Frankie, you come with me, we're going to see if everyone else is okay."

"We should split up." Danny says, "It will be faster and more efficient if we divide and cover more ground," Frankie adds. You shake your head, Frankie, you're staying with me, I don't want you running off on anyone who needs help." Frankie looks disappointed but nods in agreement. "Alright, I'll stick with you," he says reluctantly.

Danny sends a nod to you before leaving in the opposite direction.

Heather raises her gun as someone else enters the door, but she lowers it when she sees it's her girlfriend and Tara. "Amber," Heather chokes out a sob, "They killed Iris." Amber rushes over to Heather, wrapping her arms around her tightly. "I'm so sorry, Heather," she whispers, tears streaming down her face. "We'll find those responsible and make them pay for what they've done."

"Oh my god...Anika, Mindy, are you guys okay?" Tara asks, looking at the two of them with concern. "We need to get them to the infirmary now," Chad says, glancing at everyone.

"How long have you been here?" Amber asks Chad. "Why haven't you taken them to the infirmary?" Chad takes a deep breath, his voice trembling slightly. "I just arrived moments ago, Amber. I swear."

Amber's eyes widen in disbelief. "Moments ago? But how did you know to come here?" she asks, her voice filled with suspicion. Chad hesitates for a moment before answering, "I just wanted to see if Iris was here."

Amber narrows her eyes, still skeptical. "So you just happened to show up right when they needed medical attention?" she questions, her tone accusatory. Chad's face flushes with guilt as he stammers, "I... I didn't know they were hurt."

"Stop accusing him and take them to Dr. Oath!" Tara shouts, wrapping Mindy around her arms protectively. Chad looks relieved at Tara's intervention, grateful for the support. "I promise, I had no idea they were hurt," he repeats, his voice sincere. Amber rolls her eyes, helping Chad carry Anika, following Tara and Mindy.

They safely arrive at the infirmary. "We should go look for others," Tara says, earning nods from Chad and Mindy. They split up to search for the others, each hoping to find them unharmed.

Chad runs behind the houses of the community, calling out for anyone who may be hiding or injured. He scans the area, his heart pounding with worry as he realizes how vast the search could be. Chad stands there, taking a breather.

Not knowing that Ghostface is right behind him. Chad's moment of respite is interrupted as he feels a chilling presence behind him. He turns around, only to come face-to-face with Ghostface, his heart sinking in fear. Ghostface stabs Chad in the leg before he punches them and shoves them out of his way.

He tries to run, but the pain in his leg becomes unbearable, causing him to stumble and slow down. Chad's adrenaline kicks in as he pushes through the pain, desperately trying to escape Ghostface's clutches. With every step, his fear intensifies, knowing that his life is hanging by a thread.

After a bit of hopping, he hides behind a house, catching his breath again, then attempting to escape. He makes it a few meters before Ghostface repeatedly stabs him in the back, leaving Chad gasping for air and collapsing to the ground.

"Richie..." Sam whispers. He shushes her before pulling his knife out of her stomach. Blood gushes from the wound as Sam's eyes widen in shock and pain. "I can't believe we were able to get away with it." Sam's body trembles as she struggles to speak, her voice barely a whisper. "What...?"

Richie smiles at her confusion. "I mean, you recruited Amber and I, Sam! You let the killers into your walls!" Sam's face contorts in disbelief and horror, her breaths becoming shallow and labored.

The realization dawns on her as she weakly reaches out towards Richie, her voice trembling with betrayal, "How could you...?"

"How could I not? You all are so fucking stupid! Every week, I'd steal food from the inventory and supply my group with it. I had to do whatever it took to ensure our survival. And when they told us were going to get back at this place for coming onto our land...I was so happy."

Richie's voice drips with contempt as he reveals his true intentions, his eyes gleaming with a twisted satisfaction. "You think I actually cared about any of you? This was never about survival, it was about power and revenge. And now, you all will pay for what you've done."

"Think again, bitch." Danny says, tackling Richie. As Danny lunges at Richie, their bodies collide with a force that echoes through the room. Richie kicks Danny off of him, groaning from the pain in his side.

Sam reaches for Richie's fallen knife, and with a swift motion, she straddles him, stabbing him multiple times in his chest. The room falls silent as Sam's relentless assault comes to an end. Gasping for breath, Richie's eyes widen in disbelief, his body growing limp under Sam's weight.

"What about...my ending?" Richie gasps, coughing up blood. Sam lifts Richie's head, leaning in closer. "Here it comes," she whispers before dragging the knife across Richie's throat, ending his life with a final, gruesome act.

"We're almost there, break down the wall," Roman says over the walkie-talkie. Billy glances at Stu, who grins at the news, "Ya here that Sid? We're coming in, and we're bringing company!" Sid's heart races as she hears Roman's voice on the walkie-talkie.

She knows that her time is running out, and the arrival of Roman and his companions only adds to her desperation. She quickly scans the area for any possible escape routes, hoping to find a way out before they break down the wall.

"Remember what Y/N said, Sidney. We're going to fight these assholes until we can't." Gale says, determinedly. Sid nods, her eyes filled with determination as she prepares herself for the impending confrontation. She knows that they may be outnumbered, but they won't go down without a fight.

Dewey climbs back up the lookout post, "All the officers are helping Liv and Quinn escort everyone safely. I don't know where...everyone else is. But, I do know they're fighters." Dewey's voice trembles with fear and hope. He scans the area, searching for any sign of their allies. Deep down, he believes that together they can overcome any obstacle.

"Break it down, Mickey." Billy commands, Mickey honks the horn, causing Stu and Billy to step back from the truck, watching as it crashes through the barricade.

The sound of shattering wood and metal echoes through the air, sending a surge of adrenaline through their veins. They exchange determined glances, knowing that this is just the beginning of their attack.

"Uh, oh! Here we come, Sidney." Mickey yells out, his lead leaning from the window. "C'mon! Let's go!" Dewey tells Gale and Sidney, climbing down the lookout post.

Mickey backs up the truck, revving the engine as he prepares to charge forward once again. Stu and Billy brace themselves, ready to join Mickey in the next wave of their assault.

The truck crashes into a nearby tree, causing the branches to snap and the leaves to scatter. Mickey hops out of the truck with a bloody forehead before opening the back of it, releasing all of the walkers.

The walkers stumble out of the truck, groaning and reaching out with their decaying hands. Mickey leads a walker out of the gates, holding it at arm's length to keep it from biting him.

Stu and Billy quickly follow suit, each grabbing a walker and maneuvering it toward the gate. The trio works seamlessly together, using their weapons to fend off any walkers that get too close, determined to kill Gale, Sidney, and Dewey.

"Y/N!" Tara shouts, and you turn your head, "Tara!" You call out in relief, recognizing Tara's voice. She rushes towards you, her eyes wide with fear and determination. "We need to get out of here," she says urgently, grabbing your arm and pulling you toward the nearest exit.

You nod in agreement, gripping Tara's arm tightly as you both sprint towards the exit. The chaos around you intensifies as more walkers pour in from all directions. Adrenaline flows through your veins as you dodge and weave through the crowds of undead, destined to make it out alive.

"There! The car!" Tara points ahead, her voice drowned out by the growls of the walkers. You spot the car, its engine running, and a surge of hope fills you both as you push through the final wave of undead, reaching the car.

You quickly jump into the car, glancing at Tara as she slams the door shut behind her, "Drive!" You slam your foot on the gas pedal, feeling the car lurch forward as you desperately try to escape the horde of walkers closing in. You let out a breath, relieved that you had made it into the car and away from immediate danger.

"Do you think anyone else made it?" Tara's eyes dart to the rearview mirror, scanning the chaos behind you. "I don't know," she replies, "But we have to keep moving and hope for the best."

"What the fuck...?" You mutter, frozen in fear, as a truck, at full speed, approaches straight for your vehicle. Your grip tightens on the steering wheel as you frantically search for an escape route. "Hold on!" you shout, slamming your foot on the gas pedal, trying to evade the oncoming collision.

Tara's knuckles turn white as she clutches onto the passenger seat, bracing herself for impact. The truck crashes into your car, sending shards of glass flying and causing the airbags to deploy with a loud bang. The impact jolts you both forward, and for a moment, everything goes black.

"Gale...you should tell her," Sidney says, her voice barely above a whisper. Gale looks at Sidney, hesitation evident in her eyes. "Tell me what?"

"The people that shot at you used to be in our group...before this." Your eyes widen in shock as she processes Gale's words. Gale continues, her voice trembling slightly, "They killed people, Y/N! And when we kicked them out of our group, they swore revenge. They've been tracking us ever since, waiting for the perfect moment to strike."

"My brother and cousin are in that group." Sidney says, "They were once good people, but something changed in them. It's heartbreaking to see how far they've fallen."

Sidney takes a deep breath, her eyes glistening with tears. "I never thought it would come to this, but we have to protect ourselves now. We can't let them harm us or anyone else."

The once tight-knit group had been torn apart by betrayal, and now, the threat of impending danger loomed over them all. It was clear that Sidney's determination to protect themselves and others was unwavering, but the question remained: how would they outsmart their vengeful former comrades?

"Who all knows about this?" You ask with furrowed eyebrows. Sidney's gaze shifted to meet yours, "Only the police force, Dewey, Chad, and Sam." she replied. "We didn't want everyone in our community to live in fear of the day they really do come and attack."

Sidney's voice trembled slightly as she continued, "We've been discreet about it, but we can't be too careful. We need to come up with a plan to ensure everyone's safety without causing panic."

You wake up, your vision unblurring and ringing in your ears. As you try to regain your senses, you realize that you're lying on the ground, surrounded by debris. Panic sets in as you struggle to remember what happened and where you are.

"Y/N! Get up!" Tara shouts, a grunt following after. You manage to push yourself up, feeling a sharp pain in your side. Tara rushes over to help you, her face filled with concern.

"Your leg..." You look down at your leg and see a deep gash, blood staining your clothes. The pain intensifies as you try to put weight on it, making it clear that you won't be able to walk without assistance.

You look over at the truck, the two people driving it are now dead, but the walkers that were inside start to emerge, drawn by the commotion. Tara's eyes widen in fear as she realizes the imminent danger. She quickly scans the area for any potential weapons or escape routes, desperately trying to come up with a plan to protect both of you from the approaching walkers.

You sense this, groaning. "Tara, just leave me. I'll slow you down and put you in even more danger. You need to save yourself," you say, your voice filled with resignation. Tara's eyes well up with tears as she shakes her head, refusing to abandon you in this dire situation.

Tara begins walking, and you hop as fast as you can, trying to flee from the walkers that are closing in on you. The adrenaline pumps through your veins as you scan the area, desperately searching for any sign of a safe haven. Your heart races as you realize that time is running out and you need to find shelter before it's too late.

You and Tara retreat deep into the forest, trying to look for a place to get high ground on the walkers. The dense foliage provides some cover, but you can still hear the shuffling footsteps and low growls growing closer. With each passing moment, the urgency to find a vantage point intensifies, knowing that your survival depends on it.

"Up there!" Tara points at a large rock, jutting out from the ground, offering a potential refuge from the approaching walkers. You hop to the rock as Tara stabs a walker that gets too close, buying you some time to climb up.

You groan, feeling the strain in your muscles as you try to pull yourself up onto the rock. You fall back down, frustration building as the walkers inch closer. Tara reaches down, offering a helping hand and urging you to try again. "You go first, T...and help me up."

Tara nods, understanding. She quickly scrambles up the rock, finding her footing, and extending her hand towards you. "Hurry up," she urges, "they're right behind you." You take a deep breath, gathering your strength, and give it one more try.

You attempt to climb the rock again, gritting your teeth and pushing through the pain in your muscles. A walker grabs your leg, you try kicking it off, but it only tightens its grip.

Tara reaches down, grabbing your arm and pulling you up with all her strength. Together, you manage to free yourself from the walker's grasp and continue climbing towards safety.

Tara falls onto her back, catching her breath. You attempt to get up with a grunt and say, "Let's keep moving." Tara quickly gets up, helping you to your feet. She nods, and the two of you successfully make it to the same shed you found Heather.

You enter the shed, falling against the wall as exhaustion takes over. Tara scans the room, searching for any signs of danger, while you catch your breath. You lift your pants leg, revealing a deep bite from one of the walkers. Fuck. You were bitten.

"Tara..." you say, your voice filled with both fear and resignation. Tara turns to you, her eyes widening as she sees the bite mark on your leg. She takes a deep breath, trying to hold back tears, and mumbling, "No...no...no!

"Hey, hey...it's okay." You try to reassure Tara, despite the panic rising within you. "It's not okay!" She shouts, her voice trembling with emotion. "You promised me..."

"You promised me that you wouldn't leave," Tara continues, her voice cracking with despair. "I can't lose you, not like this." Tears stream down her face as she clings onto you, desperately hoping for a miracle. You place a hand on Tara's cheek, "I love you, Tara."

"I love you too," Tara whispers, choking out a sob. "Please, don't leave me alone," she pleads, her voice filled with vulnerability. You bring her into a kiss, pouring all your love behind it.

When you pull away, you lean your forehead against hers, trying not to break down in front of her. "Tara...don't let me turn...into one of those things...please." Tara's eyes well up with tears as she gazes into your eyes, her grip on you tightening. "No...stop! Don't make me do this, Y/N."

"Tara, please! You have to kill me before I turn, please." Tara's hands tremble as she clings onto you, her voice shaking with anguish. "I don't wanna..."

Your eyes glance around the shed, landing on an axe in the corner of the room. Desperation fills the air as you realize that the axe might be your only chance for a quick and merciful end. With a heavy heart, you suggest, "Tara, there's an axe over there. It's the only way to ensure I won't become one of them. Please, for both our sakes, grab it."

Tara's eyes widen in horror as she follows your gaze towards the axe. Tears stream down her face as she hesitates, torn between the unbearable thought of losing you and the grim reality of what lies ahead.

Slowly, she releases her grip on you and takes a shaky step towards the corner of the room where the axe awaits. Every fiber of her being resists the idea, but she knows deep down that it is the only way to prevent a fate worse than death. As she reaches for the weapon, her hand trembles uncontrollably, a reflection of the turmoil within her.

She walks back over to you, raising the axe. Her heart pounds in her chest as she looks into your eyes, silently pleading for forgiveness. With a heavy sigh, she musters the strength to swing the axe, knowing that this sacrifice is necessary for both of your sakes.

As the axe comes crashing down, a mix of relief and sorrow washes over her. She closes her eyes, unable to witness the gruesome act she has just committed. At that moment, she realizes the true extent of her love for you, willing to do whatever it takes to protect you, even if it means staining her hands with blood.

364 notes · View notes

snootlestheangel · 6 months

Text

Shadow Company OCs Incorrect Quotes

Flash, meeting Ness for the first time: Hey! I'm Cole, I'm new! Whoa, dude! Your eyes are different colors, that's so cool! Oh that means you have heterochromia, right? I had a teacher in the 5th grade with two different eyes. Granted, one of them was a fake eye. She was really cool! Anyways, I look forward to working with you, Ness! Commander said that's what everyone calls you, right? Is it after the Loch Ness Monster? If so, that's fucking sick! I've always wanted to go to Scotland, ya know? What about you? Ness, who can barely speak: Uh- Flash: Sorry, I talk really fast when I'm excited. I thought I had gone pretty slow, but it's okay! I know I'm hard to understand! Ness, king of being hard to understand: Uh huh

Flash: Today I was running laps like normal, ya know? No big deal type stuff but then suddenly everyone was like cheering. And I was like "What? We're cheering? Okay!" and also started cheering. Flash: Then everyone started laughing cause haha turns out they were cheering for me! Flash: Apparently I broke one of Commander Graves's records or something. I dunno, but it's cool they all cheered for me!

Woody: So, tell me again exactly what happened. Truck: He was fucking around in my shop and then he screamed. Woody: Why *trying not to laugh* why did he scream? Truck: He found out. Woody: *wheezing*

Ness: I'm being punished for something Woody: Oh yeah? Ness: Mhm. I have a *struggles a second* presentation Woody: Does-does Graves realize? Ness: *shrugs* Woody: Let's just let it happen and let him learn from his mistakes, yeah? Ness: Mkay

Flash: WOODY!! Woody, startled: Flash, it's 0100, what the hell? Flash: I found a stash of sour candy and then ate like half of it! I shared some with Ness cause he caught me, and then Truck saw but instead he just handed us even more sour candy! Woody: So, you came to bother me? Flash, excitedly: Uh huh! Woody: Why? Flash: I can't feel my face! :D

Truck: Listen, I don't know how he got hurt. Told him to not come any closer and then suddenly he was crying in pain. Graves: You cannot keep abusing recruits that step into your shop. Truck: Stop recruiting dumbasses then. Graves: How dare you, they're not dumbasses! Flash, barging in: COMMANDER THERE'S A FUCKING SNAKE IN THE POOL AND NESS ALMOST CRIED! Truck: ... Graves: Touché Woody: Of course I love my job! My coworkers are good, and nice, and we all do our part! Also Woody: *blinking HELP ME in Morse Code*

#shadow company #shadow company ocs #snootles's shadow ocs #shadow ocs #the shadow himself #phillip graves #shadow company incorrect quotes #shadow oc ness #shadow oc truck #shadow oc flash #shadow oc woody #cod incorrect quotes

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dragonbe-writing · 1 year

Text

~Motor Mouth~

Captain John Price x Female! OC (no name)

Price is fixing a car. He covered in sweat, fingers stained with grease, hair messy. She can hardly stand it when he starts talking sweet nothings to the car...

NSFW. Semi-public sex, LOTS of praise, reader is drooling over Price

2.5K words

Request are open! I really appreciate any feedback, so if you like it, comment!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was hotter than all hell outside. She was wearing as few layers as the military would allow, hair pulled up and a hat shoved on her head. She had a towel tied to her belt loop to wipe herself off.

She got an insulated cup from the cabinets, filling it with ice and pouring some coke in it. She topped it off with jack. She peeked out the window, seeing John across the way working on the truck.

They had been driving around after the last mission, and the truck broke down. He seemed to know what the issue was and how to fix it, mumbling about “the alternator” and “transmission”. She didn’t understand any of it, and even if she did she kind of…. zoned out while he was talking. The way his face was stern with concentration, brows furrowed, mustache twitching, and talking her through the issues with his hands. His big, strong, beautiful hands.

She left the kitchen, walking over to the small hut he had set up with the cup. The truck was jacked up so he could get under it easier, only having to crouch. He was digging underneath the car, her shadow blocking his light and pulling him away.

“Hello, love. What can I do for you?” he asked, stepping out from under the car.

He was absolutely breathtaking. She let her eyes travel over him, taking in every detail. He was in his classic boots and pants, which fit him well. He had taken off his top shirt, revealing the white undershirt beneath it. It was no longer tucked in, the material waving around his belt buckle and the shirt stained with grease. Sweat dripped down his body, covering him in a nice shimmer. He must have scratched his beard, leaving a dark stain behind. His hair was messy, going every which way and highlighting his obvious attempts to fix it.

“You alright?” he asked, blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she ogled. She took in a breath, tearing her eyes away from his incredibly muscular, sweaty, exposed arms and meeting his eyes.

“Yeah, sorry. I brought you a jack and coke,” she held it out to him, heart fluttering as he gave her a warm smile.

“You spoil me, Sergeant.” He said, taking the cup in his hand. God, his hands. Absolutely covered in grease, every nook and cranny stained with his accomplishments. She wanted him to wrap them around hers, she wanted to feel their warmth, wanted to stain her hands with his own. She cleared her throat, looking back up to him.

“Figured you deserve a little pick me up. You’ve been working on it all day,” she said, earning another smile from him.

“It’s nothing, love. I’m almost done, just got to re-tighten a couple things,” he said.

“Anything I can help you with? Maybe keep you company?”

His eyes lit up, something that would go unnoticed to anyone else. But she spent enough time gazing into his eyes to know the difference. Her heart skipped.

“Actually, yeah. Could you hold the flashlight?”

“Of course, Captain.”

He handed her the flashlight, leading her under the truck. “Shine it right there.”

He reached into the abyss, feeling for God knows what. She was pressed against him, shining the light to the best of her ability.

Her senses were flooded with him. Their arms were rubbing against one another, the sweat from both of them making them stick to each other. His smell overwhelmed her, his smoke mixing with his musk and creating the perfect aphrodisiac. It was like he was releasing pheromones, each breath she took making her underwear a little more wet.

She was staring up at him, watching the way his face twitched as he felt around. She was absolutely captivated with him, not even noticing the light dipping further and further down.

“Love, the light,” he commented, letting out a grunt when he tried and failed at his task. He would hold his breath, chest heaving when he got frustrated.

“Sorry, sir.”

He snorted. “You don’t have to call me sir right now.”

“Sorry. Force of habit,” she replied, watching his muscles stretch as he reached even deeper.

“C’mon,” he mumbled, eyebrows scrunching up and his eyes closing. “Just a bit more sweetheart… c’mon love…”

She shut her eyes, listening to the sweet nothings he whispered to the car.

“Right there… there we go, darling.”

Her mind raced, drawing out the scene she so desperately wished would play out. His labored breathing was like a beating drum in her ears. She heard him let out a soft sigh of relief as he pulled his hand away.

“That should do it,” he said, smiling at her and grabbing the flashlight. His fingers barely grazed hers, sending a spark though her body. He lowered the car, taking a drink.

“Is it good?” she asked.

“Bloody brilliant. Best one I’ve ever had,” he said, sending her a wink. “Time to start her up, see if she works.”

He picked up the keys, climbing in. He put them in, turning the ignition. It stuttered, a terrible noise coming from the engine.

“Come on baby, come on,” he mumbled, keeping the key turned. It finally spurred to life, earning a smile from Price. “Atta girl! Knew you could do it!”

He turned the car off, tossing the keys aside. “Will you get the door? Don’t wanna track grease everywhere.”

She nodded, holding the door for him as he made his way inside the cabin. He got to the sink, turning the handle with his wrist.

“Anything else I can do?”

“There’s a big bottle under my sink. It has a pump on it. Bring it to me, please.”

She brought it.

“Can you put some on my hands?”

She tried to angle the bottle, but it was awkward and she missed entirely. She wrapped her arms around him, finally able to get some of the soap in his hands.

His smell was intoxicating, something she wanted bottled. Every whiff made her heart thump. She pulled back, setting the bottle on the counter.

“This soaps got some sand in it,” he started. “Makes it gritty, gets real deep in the skin to get the grease off. My hands are gonna be stained for a couple days anyway, even though they're clean.”

“Mm,” she hummed, watching as he rubbed the soap all over his hands. She watched his fingers intertwine, coating themselves more. She let her eyes travel up his arms, taking in every muscle and groove. She trailed them down his body, desperately wanting to see what was underneath all those clothes. He was covered in sweat, but that made him more desirable.

“You sure you’re alright, Sergeant?”

Her eyes snapped back up to meet his, an embarrassed pink coating her cheeks. “Y-yeah. ‘M fine.”

“Really?” He pressed, voice smooth with pride. “Cause you’ve been starin’ at me all day.”

Her heart dropped, eyes widening at his words. He knew.

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

He dried his hands on a towel, stepping closer to her. “I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, sweetheart.” She was leaning against the counter, watching as his arms blocked the sides of her. He was towering over her, bending himself down slightly so his face hovered above hers. “What’s got you all… worked up?”

Her heart was racing, bruising her ribcage from the inside as it bounced around.

“I’m not sure-”

“Don’t play dumb with me,” he ordered, his eyes pulling her in. They were dangerous ocean waves, walls so high she would get buried in them. They whipped around like a storm was happening in his mind, blues twisting between one another. “Tell me what’s got you so hot and bothered.”

She took a deep breath, daring to look away, but finding herself unable too.

“Is it the way I talk? You want me to talk to you the way I talk to the car?” He asked, eyebrow cocked. He was dripping with dominance, his words teasing her as his eyes drifted down to her lips. “Want me to tell you when you do a good job, love?”

Her breath caught in her through, something that didn’t go unnoticed by him. He smirked, his face so close to her she could feel his breath. “I’m sure most people like to hear when they do a good job.”

He let the tip of his finger touch the waistband of her pants, his eyes softening, asking for permission. She nodded slightly, biting her lips as he let his hand travel over her underwear.

“Do most people get this wet when praised, darling?”

She moaned as he dragged his fingers over her clothed clit. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, slamming his lips onto hers. His hand left her pants, both landing on her waist as he held her. Fire coursed through her veins at his touch, his lips hungry against hers.

She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling him closer as she savored the taste. His lips were slightly salty from the sweat, but the taste of jack and coke overpowered it. His hands traveled to the back of her thighs, lifting her up and placing her on the counter, stepping to stand between her legs.

“Goddamn,” he mumbled between kisses, earning a groan from her. She licked his lips, exploring his mouth with her tongue. He wrapped his around hers, moaning at her taste. She would gladly get used to this.

His beard tickled her face as they moved in sync, drowning in each other. They pulled away, gasping for air and staring into each other. His pupils were blown wide, face shimmering with saliva.

“If you want this, tell me. I can shower and we can go out, we can do this right-”

“John, I can’t wait any longer,” she whined, hand traveling down his chest and palming him through his underwear. From what she felt, he couldn’t wait, either.

“I’m disgusting, let me shower-”

“I want you like this,” she mumbled, pressing her lips to his neck. He grunted as her hand fiddled with his belt. “Right here, right now.”

A low growl came from his lips, something primal. “What if someone walks in, love?”

“Let them, I don’t care.”

She bit his skin, bathing in the way his hands traveled around her body. She unbuttoned his pants, pulling them down and grabbing the waistband of his underwear. His cock sprung out, tip red and dripping precum. She moaned at the sight of it. He was thick, something she should’ve expected based on the rest of him.

She wrapped her hand around it, pumping it slowly and spreading the precum around. His head fell to her shoulder, pressing light kisses to her neck. She let out airy moans at the feeling of his lips.

“You smell so fucking good,” she mumbled, slowly stroking his cock.

“I smell good?” he teased, voice lined with amusement.

“Mm,” she hummed, undoing the buttons on her pants. “Make fun of me all you want, but you’re getting laid because of it.”

“S’that all?” he asked, hand traveling down her body and slipping into her underwear. She was soaked, his fingers covered in her slick.

“N-no,” she mumbled, biting her lip as his finger grazed her clit. “Your hair’s nice too.”

“Ah.”

He sank two fingers into her, beard tickling her neck as he pressed kisses to her skin. She moaned around him, lips teasing his ear. “God baby just like that,” she whined.

He curled his thick fingers, molding her pussy to fit him and drawing lewd noises from her lips. He was careful, meticulous with every move. He watched every reaction, repeating ones that gave her the most pleasure.

“Such a beautiful sight, sweetheart,” he groaned, voice rumbling through her. She gently tugged his head back, reconnecting their lips. It was a sloppy kiss, animalistic and uncoordinated as he pulled his fingers out. He scooted her closer to the edge, lining himself up and sinking his cock into her.

They moaned into each other's mouths, her walls fluttering around him and practically pulling him in deeper. She tilted her head back, letting whines of ecstasy fill the room as he slowly pumped in and out of her.

He took his thumb and pointer finger and grabbed her chin, pulling her gaze back down to meet his. He snapped his hips up, skin slapping against her ass. Her eyes widened, glossing over with every thrust.

“C-Captain, so good~” she lulled, words spilling out before she could comprehend them.

“Say that again,” he growled, pulling himself almost all the way out.

“Captain!”

He slammed back into her, letting out a low moan as her walls clenched around him.

“Pussy feels so good, pretty girl,” he praised, speeding up his pace.

“F-fuck, gonna c-cum-”

“Yeah? You gonna cum baby?”

His thrusts were an endless assault on her cunt, pushing her closer and closer to the edge. He put his thumb against her clit, rubbing small circles. His eyes were a dangerous pot of desire, something she drowned in.

“Please, sir, please,” she whined, looking at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Cum for me, sweetheart, c’mon-”

“Captain-!” she moaned, fingers digging into his arm as she attempted to ground herself. Her orgasm shook through her body, eyes slamming shut. Her ears were filled with the sounds of her own pleasure, brain in a haze of desire as his hips continued their relentless pace. They finally stuttered, slowing to a stop as he coated her walls.

“Shit, princess, did so good, so fucking good, baby,” he mumbled, pressing gentle kisses to her cheek and neck. He slowly removed himself, a mixture of his cum and hers dripping out and splattering against the floor.

“John,” she whimpered, eyes glistening with desire. She craved more, more touch, more pleasure, more of him.

“Not satisfied?” he taunted, eyes twinkling as she shook her head. He looked her up and down, licking his lips at the sight of her cunt. He leaned down, his mouth next to her ear. “Tell you what, love. How about you go start a shower, and I’ll come join you as soon as I finish cleaning this up?”

She whined, making him chuckle in response. She slid off the counter, stumbling on wobbly legs to the bathroom. He heard the shower turn on as he wiped up their mess, cleaning the counter too. His footsteps were heavy as he walked to the bathroom.

He was greeted with hot steam and clothes littering the floor. His quickly followed.

“You ready for more, love?”

#price cod #price mw2 #captain john price #john price #captain price #captain john price x oc #captain john price x reader #captain john price fic #john price smut #john price fic #cod mw22 #cod fanfic #cod #mw2 price #cod mw2 fic

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juxtp0se · 1 year

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i kept thinking about 1980s trad goth cesare and who he would be trying to capture and then i made an oc. lindsey tricks people with fake products, news and advice and aims to become famous worldwide to influence the masses. like his themed truck, the only way cesare fits in in the 80's is by blending in with the punk crowd, convincing them to help him take down 'Big Media Propaganda' or whatever. he defeats lindsey by getting his show cancelled and knocking him into the underworld through a trashcan. classic deadbeat-tv-star-thrown-into-alley-and-he's-got-a-5-o-clock-shadow style you know what im talking about???

#bigtop burger oc #btb oc #btb #bigtop burger #btb cesare #dez draws #cesare in the goth club like u guys want to infiltrate a talk show. and gets offered drugs and is liek no thanks im not hungry #lindsey isnt a real doctor and says things along the lines of the ITS TURNING THE FROGS GAY!#btb oc lindsey #dr lindsey blarney

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luna-andra · 2 months

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The Shadows Return | Simon 'Ghost' Riley x OC | Retired AU | Chapter 6: The Cage

Summary: Ghost and Andra's first not-date

Author's note: This chapter was so fun to research and write, I hope you guys enjoy! ✨️

Content Warning: slow burn, eventual smut, 18+, fluff, mentions of mental health

If this is the first time you're seeing this, Chapter 1 is here. You can find the rest on my masterlist!

Word count: ~6k

The ideal way to see Andra bright and early in the morning would be with a smile on her face for once. Ghost was just relieved that he wasn’t the cause of her anger this time. His truck rolled to a stop in front of her house, and he could see her pacing back and forth on her front porch, her phone pressed against her ear. He couldn’t help but smirk at the sight of her in black sportswear, her hair pulled up in a hair tie with spindles of curls flowing from the pony and two free curls framing each side of her face.

She noticed his arrival and gave him a subtle “please wait” gesture to him.

Ghost sat tight in the truck, tapping a finger against the steering wheel nonchalantly. He observed her body language as she strolled down the 3-step landing, taking slow steps to the front of the truck. He wasn’t that good at reading lips, but he didn’t have to be to know that she was saying ‘no’ venomously. Everything else was lost on him, and her voice grew loud enough for him to realize she was yelling in Spanish.

Andra approached the passenger door, her last words being “Good luck figuring it out” before hanging up and slamming the door behind her.

He took the risk of trying to lighten the mood. “Got a habit of slammin’ doors, do we?”

Andra groaned as she scrubbed her clean face with shaky hands. “Sorry, my mom knows how to push my buttons.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family since they met. “That bad?” He also realized since it’s crack-of-dawn early here for them, it was late over there in the states.

Andra set her phone to vibrate and shoved it into her back pocket. “She tried starting with the whole ‘hi, mija! How are you doing? We miss you!’” her voice went up a few pitches to reflect an imitation of her mother, “And here I am thinking ‘it’s eleven at night over there, why is she calling that late?’ so I let her play her little game until she finally came out with it.”

She took a breath along with a hand gesture as if she’s trying to compose herself in front of her face. “She asked me to help her bail out my cousin Andrew.”

Ghost, focusing on the road, felt hesitant to ask anything about the situation, but he took the bait. “Are you close with your cousin?”

“No!” Andra exclaimed. “I don’t talk to that side of the family because they deal – “ she interrupted herself to omit a bit of information. “They run the streets with the wrong people, and I told her several times before that I couldn’t care less about that side of the family.

“And does she ever bother my brothers with that bullshit? Oh no, never,” she sneered, “Not her precious mijitos.” Andra crossed her arms over her chest and let out a heavy sigh, followed by a sarcastic chuckle. “I’m only family when they need something.”

Ghost sympathized with her, but he didn’t know what to say. What was that part about them dealing? Dealing drugs?

Andra melted into the passenger seat and eyed him. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be dumping this on you when we’re supposed to be having a nice day out.”

All he could do is play it off. “I think I have to draw the line at family baggage.”

A silent snicker had her shoulders bobbing. “That would be my hard limit, too. So tell me now if I have anything crazy to look forward to so we can call it quits now.”

He knew she was joking back, but he couldn’t help but think how she had no clue.

Her head relaxed against the headrest as she looked out the windshield to the morning sunrise melding with the skyline. “I guess I should be thankful that she bothered me early in the morning rather than in the middle of our not-date.”

Ghost shook his head at that with a hidden grin. “That’s one way to look at it.”

“Speaking of, where are we going?” Andra turned to him again.

The truck stopped at the next stop light and took a left, taking them away from Disley and the little civilization they lived nearby. “A park.”

“A park?” she questioned. “We passed up plenty of other parks.”

Ghost eyed her for a quick second before looking back to the road. “This one’s different.”

“Is this a park where notorious killers dump the bodies of their victims? Because that’s the vibe I’m getting.”

He rolled his eyes. “If I was a killer, don’t you think I would’ve done it a long time ago?”

Ghost could feel the grin she was trying to suppress. “That was honestly my first thought when we met.”

“Gee, thanks.”

With the sun only halfway peaked over the horizon, the truck drove down a narrow, one-lane road lined with beech trees shedding their red and yellow leaves. The wind was mild, and with each passing breeze the leaves were picked up in a wistful, arbitrary direction, creating flurries of autumn colors.

Andra looked out the window with a young, whimsy sparkle in her beautiful browns, and the sight of an ancient and well-maintained estate came into view. Ghost wasn’t sure if she even knew that she whispered a ‘whoa,’ but he wouldn’t ruin the moment.

The road split off into two directions, and Ghost made a right turn to the near-empty parking lot.

“The estate is closed until 0900, but the grounds are open to the public to roam about.” Ghost shifted the gear into park and killed the ignition. Behind him, he reached for a small pack that he prepared with a few water bottles and some protein bars in case they were peckish on the trail. “Ready?”

Andra was already opening the passenger door to hop out. “Absolutely.”

From the parking lot, they took the trail that would lead them directly to the front gates of the estate. The weather was mildly cool, but Ghost was wearing a jacket in case he found Andra feeling cold. Her skintight, long sleeve athletic zip up looked thin, but so far on the stroll she was managing.

The front gates to the estate were closed, but a quick cross over the road would lead them onto another trail. Andra observed the castle-like mansion. “Why does this place look familiar? I swear I’ve never been here before.”

Ghost stepped up to her side. “BBC’s Pride & Prejudice was filmed here.”

“No shit.” Her eyebrows shot up. “You watched it?”

He shook his head. “You?”

“Nah, just seen a few minutes here and there when friends would watch it.” Andra turned to continue the trudge along the trail lined with aged half-walls of cobblestone.

Ghost followed in tow. “I figured that would be your type of thing to watch.”

She snorted. “Why, because I read the occasional romance novel?”

“Romance? You read downright smut.”

Her face blazed crimson at his retort. “Jeez, thanks for saying it out into the wind.”

The wind was fresh and crisp every time it blew through the fabric of his balaclava. It had been a while since Ghost had been out on a nature hike, probably since the last time he and the lads went camping. This trumped staying home all day doing annual house upkeep or working out for a few hours.

The manor faded beyond the rolling hills, and further they followed the trail. Ghost knew exactly where this trail would lead them, high up on a hill overlooking Disley.

The silence between them was comfortable, Ghost didn’t feel the need to fill the time with talk. Andra was enthralled with the scenic tour of the countryside. Yet, Andra found herself being disrupted by the occasional vibration from her phone. Alerting her to unwanted messages by the expression darkening her eyes.

“Still getting loving messages from mother dearest?” Ghost assumed.

Her ponytail whipped around as she turned to look at him. “Yeah, at this point I’m realizing I should’ve left my phone in your truck.” Her finger held down the power button, and the phone’s screen went black.

“Did you leave the states to get away from them?” It was not like Ghost to go prying into people’s personal life, but he had always been curious about what brought her all the way over here in his own backyard. Or rather, next door down the road.

Andra slowed down to a sloth’s pace before she sat upon the cobble wall beside the path. “That’s not the entire reason, but it’s some of it.” She looked down at her dusty shoes. “I lost my scholarship. I had a four-year ride to Texas State, and a year in I blew it.

“My mother was pissed.” Andra’s gaze lifted to stare aimlessly amongst the fields of yellowing grass. “Not because I squandered my future, but because she thought she would never get rid of me. She didn’t want a daughter, just boys. And I worked my ass off all throughout school to make sure I had a way to leave home as soon as possible.

“So, when she found out that I was getting kicked out of the dorms, she told me I wasn’t welcome to come back.”

Ghost clenched his jaw. “And your dad? Was he present?”

Andra’s hands rubbed the tops of her thighs as she swung her feet. “He was, but he was completely oblivious to my mother’s vitriol.” Her eyes met his, that sadness he couldn’t bear to see swirling in the mocha of her irises. “My dad was at work the day I came back home, I’m sure if he was there, he would have opened the door for me and asked if I was hungry.”

A flash of his mother’s face manifested in his mind, her kind, ageing face opening the front door to his childhood home to greet him. He couldn’t fathom anything but love from his own mom.

Ghost had to look away from Andra and blew out a breath. “What happened after that?”

“I couch surfed while working multiple jobs.” Andra leaped off the cobble wall. “I got fed up one day, bought a world map, darts and a bottle of tequila,” Ghost shuddered at the mention of tequila, “Got piss drunk, and threw some darts at the map. That part was true, and that’s why I had lousy aim. The other two landed on Australia, and I wasn’t about to move there, scary ass bugs and all. And the other one landed on Russia, and I didn’t feel like learning a new language so Disley, England it was.”

Ghost couldn’t help but be amused by how cliché the decision was. “Safe to say you did good for yourself by moving.” The two of them continued their walk on the trail.

“Oh yeah,” she vehemently agreed. “I got a chance at life again and I don’t have to see my family? Win fucking win.” Her grin fell once more. “I miss my brothers and my dad. But I know Ivan is doing well for himself in the Marines, and Orion will be graduating high school next summer.” Andra’s eyes narrowed to the building in the distance. “What is that?”

Ghost looked at what Andra was questioning. “That’s The Cage.”

“The what now?”

The hill was getting steep, and Ghost noticed how Andra was struggling to trudge up the slope. He took her hand and led her to the smaller stone keep.

The Cage sat atop of the highest hill, looking over groves of shedding trees and endless, quiet pastures for kilometers. The closer they got to the Baroque-styled standalone structure, the louder the wind blistered all around them. A heavy, iron gate locked with chains and a padded lock restricted access to the three-story keep. Iron bars were installed on the first floor windows to keep visitors and vagrants out. And the windows on the floor above are too frosted with age to get a look of the interior of the building. Thin patches of moss speckles over the bricks and archway of the entrance, giving it color and character. The bricks have been discolored by centuries of rain running off its surface.

“It’s a historical landmark, built sometime in the 1500s.” Ghost assisted Andra as they reached a leveled out plain of gravel path, holding onto her hand even while they approached the keep. “It was originally a hunting lodge, and the wives or ladies of nobility would sit inside to watch and observe the hunters nearby.

“It was actually part of a larger structure, but they built this part of it a couple centuries after the original keep was demolished.”

Andra gave Ghost an astonished look. “I didn’t take you for a history buff.”

He laughed. “I took a field trip out here when I was still in primary school. I remember a few of the details from pamphlets we got. We were expected to take an exam on the history of the landmarks, and this one was the more interesting one to me.”

Andra pulled her hand away from Ghosts, leaving an absent sensation in his palm, to touch the withering stone. “1500s you said?” he hummed in response, and she was in awe in a way he wasn’t expecting. “Wholly shit, this might be the oldest piece of architecture I’ve ever seen in person.”

“This is nothing.” Ghost stepped closer until he was a step behind her.

She scoffed. “Yeah, that’s easy to say when your country is over a thousand years old.” Her surprised expression when she turned to face him, hand pressed firm on the wall, told Ghost that she didn’t know how close he was. She had to tilt her head up to meet his eyes.

Ghost fought the urge to place his brawny hand over hers. The air felt thicker than it has all day.

“Should we start heading back?” Ghost suggested. He figured by the time they got back, the estate and other shops were open to the public now; there was so much left he wanted to show her.

Andra nodded and followed Ghost carefully down the steep hill. “I realized something.”

Ghost hummed, “And what is that?”

“I don’t even know your last name.”

It was an innocent inquiry, one that Ghost felt comfortable sharing with her. “It’s Riley.”

Andra made an interested murmur. “Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley.”

She said his name like she it was an answer to one of life’s many questions. His name rolling off her lips made his knees weak. The way she held so much power over him should scare him. His feet began to carry him at a slower pace, walking a few meters behind that swaying ponytail, the breeze carrying the jasmine and vanilla essence that once haunted him.

-----

The estate had groups of people filing into the entrance, and the discomfort was apparent through Ghost’s body language. “It looks like the café is separate from the mansion, let’s hit it up first and get something.”

Andra’s suggestion was a relief. Ghost didn’t feel like bringing attention to the both of them and potentially ruin the experience for her. It would have been less packed if they had shown up on a weekday, but what could he do now?

The gravel crunched beneath their shoes as they approached the café. Andra hesitated, then turned to Ghost, blatantly looking at his masked face in concern.

Before she could say anything, he shook his head. “Don’t worry about me.”

“Are you sure- “

“What do you think I do when I gotta eat on my lunch breaks?” He opened the café’s door, the bell over the threshold chiming to announce their arrival.

Andra didn’t say anything else about it, yet Ghost was moved from her worrying about him. The café barista greeted them warmly, fighting the urge to give Ghost a questionable look. He let them know if they had any questions, they just needed to ask. Andra tilted her head up to look at the menu displayed on the wall. “What are you getting?”

“Just tea.” Ghost answered.

She scoffed. “Typical.” Before he could quip back, she started ordering for the both of them. “I’ll have a flat white and a tea.”

“Cream and sugar for the tea?” the barista asked politely.

Andra looked to Ghost for the answer, and he nodded. “Yes, please.” She chirped.

The barista announced the total, and before Andra could fish her wallet out of her pocket, Ghost handed payment over. He wasn’t about to let her pay for anything today.

A bashful grin crossed her mouth and she muttered a thanks.

With coffee and tea in hand, Ghost led Andra out of the café and chose a table with an opened umbrella shading them from the morning sunlight. Its vinyl material whipped and cracked with the wind. Ghost took the seat giving him the advantage to see anyone passing by and Andra sat directly across from him. She clasped the warm to-go cup in her hands, gauging the temp of the coffee with a gentle sip.

Ghost took the lid off his cup and dunk the tea bag a few times in the milky water and watched Andra’s satisfaction at her hot drink. “You cold?”

She waved her hand in a so-so gesture. “I’ll be fine after the coffee.”

“Here.” Ghost shucked off his jacket, leaving him in his black long sleeve shirt. Andra tried to protest, but stopped after he draped the jacket over her shoulders and returned to his seat. It was too big on her, but she didn’t complain.

Her cheeks went carnation pink. “Thank you.” Her attention turned to their surroundings, observing the other buildings nearby. Ghost took this as a chance to lift his mask up enough to drink his tea, gulping nearly half of the small cup. Shit, it burned going down.

With how Andra’s pupils flared, Ghost knew she was fighting the urge to look his way. Not that she had to; he made the choice to reveal a bit of his face, yet it was endearing. After concealing himself once more, Ghost broke the silence with more questions to ask her, such as what she was majoring in college, which led to her asking if he went to school before joining the military.

“No,” Ghost answered, “We were just required to have high marks on our assessments.”

“Oh.” Andra nodded; her eyes glanced down at her coffee. “In the US you have to complete college in order to be an officer.”

“Is that what you were trying to do?” He continued.

She glanced back up at him once more. “Yeah, I was in their ROTC program and was going to join the army after graduation.”

There was a thick energy around the topic. She was only giving out information that he directly asked her for. “Even though you lost your scholarship, you didn’t want to try enlisting afterwards?”

Her body went rigid, he didn’t know if it was from the cold wind blowing through or from his prodding. “I couldn’t.” A forced, halfhearted grin tried to conceal her sadness.

Ghost wanted to know more, but he was all too familiar with avoiding certain topics. And it probably had been years since she talked about this with anyone. He might be the wrong person to be asking forward questions about her past, but as much mystery as he gave off, so did she. And he wasn’t used to being in the dark about the people in his life.

With another lift of his mask, her eyes darted away, only to look back at him again as he finished off his tea. “There’s a second-hand bookstore nearby, wanna check it out?”

Andra’s eyes brightened. “For sure.”

-----

There was a particular smell about second-hand bookstores that Andra always enjoyed, a scent that she never gets anywhere else. It’s the telltale sign that these books were loved by all different kinds of people, and they were waiting to be taken home to its new owner to take them on a new adventure.

The bookstore was warm and inviting, and so was Ghost’s jacket. Andra had to fight the urge to lean her face into the lapels of the jacket to inhale his scent. Gods, she was a creep. She had done it once when he draped it over her and a second time when he walked ahead to open the door of the bookstore for her.

An orange tabby hopped down from its cat tree and approached the two of them as if to greet them, like it owned the bookstore instead of its owner. It chirped as Andra gave its back a gentle touch, earning her the honor of the cat rubbing itself against her leg. Sammy’s not gonna be happy about smelling cat on her when she gets home.

A woman in her late 30s peered her head from behind one of the many tall shelves with a smile. “Welcome, let me know if you need help finding anything particular.”

“Thank you.” Andra smiled back as she sauntered down the main corridor, scanning the aging labels for each genre.

Ghost followed closely behind her, hands at his sides. He stopped a few inches as he realized she had turned to face him. “I have an idea.”

An eyebrow disappeared beneath the fabric of his balaclava. “Should I be concerned?”

She grinned with an eye roll. “I promise, it’s not painful.”

Ghost stuffed a hand in his pocket. “Alright, I’m listening.”

“Pick a title that you would be interested in reading and I’ll have to read it, and I’ll do the same for your read. Nothing lengthy, something less than… let’s say three hundred pages.”

“That’s not lengthy to you?” Ghost retorted.

“I’ve read thousand-page books before, but I won’t make you endure that. You interested?” Andra rocked back and forth from her heels to her tip toes.

Ghost looked around and nodded his head. “Let’s see what we can find.”

“Great!” Andra left Ghost to search for his own book while she went scouring the store for some ideas.

From non-fiction to culinary, fiction to religion, the bookstore had variety. Andra went looking for the woman running the store, finding her behind the register counter. “Excuse me, do you have any American titles?”

The woman with blonde hair tied up in a bun looked at Andra with a friendly smile. “Yes, miss, it’ll be down that way.” She gestured down to the right of them. “On the lefthand side of the shelves.”

Andra thanked her and made her way to the section. From where she was at, she could see Ghost slowly stalking some shelves, his head was blocking the view of the sign that would have told her what genre he was browsing.

She didn’t know if it was the espresso in the coffee she had or excitement she felt from the day, but her heart warmed with joy. She didn’t expect the day to go the way it had. A walk on beautiful trails, sightseeing historical landmarks, coffee and books. Ghost was laying it thick, and she was eating it up.

It was enough to make her forget the morning call with her mom. Nearly enough. Andra knew she would have to call or message her brother to see if he got the same sob story from mom. It wasn’t a priority, but she hoped Ivan was smart enough not to lend the bail money.

Andra shook the thoughts away as she found the book she was looking for. The Outsiders by S. E. Hinton.

“Find your book?” Ghost’s voice penetrated her focus.

She nearly jumped a few inches off the floor. “Aye dios mio.” Her hand pressed against her racing heart as she took a breath as he chuckled. “Yeah, I found something.”

“Me too.” The book hung at his side in his hand, she could see the title in bold, capitalized letters. The Operators. “Want to exchange now?”

“Sure.” They handed off each other’s book, both a mirroring image of inspecting the cover of the books. His illustrated a man in a ski mask aiming a pistol at an unknown target with a helicopter flying over his head. “The Operators: On the Streets with Britain’s Most Secret Service.” Of course he would pick a book like this.

“The Outsiders?” Ghost turned the book over to read the backside of the book. “Didn’t they make this into a movie?”

Andra nodded. “I’ve read and watched the movie.”

Ghost narrowed his eyes on her. “You chose a book you’ve already read? That’s hardly fair.”

“We’ll call it even since you probably know half of the knowledge in this book.” Andra strolled up to the counter and laid the book gently on the counter, Ghost placing his on top of hers. “And I’ll pick up the bill this time-“

Ghost laid out a twenty-pound banknote, maintaining eye contact with her. “I don’t think so, doll.”

She felt the heat rising in her face, again. “I’m gonna get you back.”

The nice lady witnessing what might be the second most sexual tension they have had between the two of them slid Ghost’s change across the counter and bagged up the books in silence.

“No you won’t.” Ghost picked up his change and the bag, thanking her as he headed towards the front door.

Andra and the woman exchanged glances, the woman telling her get it, girl without ever saying a word. After a polite goodbye, Andra caught up with Ghost.

He was looking at his phone that was blaring an emergency alert alarm quite obnoxiously, and he muttered a curse under his breath. “A severe flood warning has been posted for our area; we better get home before we can’t.”

“Oh shit, yeah let’s go.” Andra was on Ghost’s heel as they both picked up speed to head back to the truck. The clouds were noticeably darker off in the distance, in the direction that they had to go. Wind was blowing fiercer as well, the temperature dropped a couple of degrees during the time Ghost and Andra were inside the bookstore.

Her hair whipped around her face wildly, and Andra almost wished she had a balaclava to keep the chilly air from hitting her face. By the time they arrived at the truck, cold droplets were falling onto the windshield.

The two of them slid into their respective seats, and the engine roared to life as Ghost threw the gear into reverse. Andra was turning her phone back on to check the local weather app to see how close the rain was. Her knee bobbed impatiently as the phone took its sweet time booting back up.

For the first time, Ghost turned on the radio and immediately a broadcast played on the speakers inside the cabin.

“A flash flood warning has been issued in the following areas…” the spokeswoman rattled off several town names, including Disley. “This development is uncommon for this season; we advise our listeners to seek shelter and stay indoors until further notice.”

Once Ghost was out of the parking lot, he punched the gas pedal, sending the truck careening down the road. Andra could see other vehicles behind them; they must have gotten the message as well and are trying to get back home.

“Just our luck, huh.” Andra murmured as her phone completed its boot-up, and opened the weather app. The radar showed a huge wave of orange and red and a small outline of green making its way south to Disley. They were going to definitely be pelted with some heavy rain by the time they get back.

“We’ll get there.” Ghost assured her, taking a sharp right turn onto the main road.

Andra gripped onto the hand rail as her heart leaped into her throat. “Hopefully with all our limbs and blood inside us.”

Ghost shook his head. “You gotta stop listenin’ to Johnny, I’m a good driver.”

“I mean, tell that to the speed trap you busted some tires on but I wasn’t there…” Andra braced herself once more as Ghost braked hard at a stop light.

The rain was pelting the truck hard now, and she was starting to worry about hail coming along with the rain. Did I lock up the chicken coop? Andra started to worry for her animals, going over her morning routine in her head. Yeah, the chickens should be okay, she prepared to be out for a good portion of the day.

Lightning streaked across the sky, earning a gasp out of Andra. It was never the lightning that scared her, it was the boom of thunder afterwards that bothered her. Well, no, that was a lie. She remembered watching her dad take off for work one time in the early hours, the car took off just in time to miss a strike of lightning. It hit the asphalt with a crack, and the thunder was so loud it rocked the house. She could not possibly imagine what could have happened if her dad hadn’t started driving away at that very moment. So yeah, lightning bothered her, but the thunder was worse, even at her adult age.

Andra started to recognize where they were through the torrential downpour as the windshield wipers worked double time to keep the view clear for Ghost. He took the turn onto Middleton Lane, their shared street. A breath of relief left the both of them as they realized the road wasn’t flooded nor blocked off by any debris. Ghost turned into her driveway, and got as close as he could to the front of the house without ruining any of her flowers.

As Andra was taking off his jacket, Ghost stopped her. “Give it back to me the next time we see each other.”

Andra beamed a smile at him. “You’re already sure that there will be a next time?”

His eyes crinkled at the corners; a smile was beneath that skull pattern. “If you’ll allow me.”

Another flash of lightning had Andra flinching. She pulled the jacket back onto her and lifted the hood. “Shoot me a message or a call when you get inside.”

Ghost grunted in agreement before she opened the passenger door and made a run for the covered porch, making it inside with minimal moisture. She watched the truck reverse and turn around, driving down into the brutal rain.

Andra closed the door, and a boom louder than just the thunder rocked the house. She fell to her knees and covered her head with a scream. Sammy ran up to her and licked her hands covering her head in a frenzy; she was just as afraid of the unforgiving weather outside those walls.

Andra gave Sammy loving rubs. “Poor baby, I know you need to go outside.” Sammy licked her face before Andra got back up onto her feet, heading to the kitchen storage to see if she still had leftover puppy pads. Thank gods, she saved them. Andra put a few down by the back door, and Sammy whined. “It’s just in case if you can’t wait, once the rain lets up, I’ll let you out babygirl.”

A heavy knock at her front door made her want to jump out of her skin. She could see the top of Ghost’s masked head through the frosted glass of the door. Quickly, she went to go open it and let him in. “Everything okay?”

Ghost was soaked. His long-sleeve shirt clung to his skin, leaving nothing to the imagination, and a black backpack was slung over his shoulder. “That loud bang you heard was a tree falling in the middle of the road. I tried to see if I could hook it up to the truck, but there’s no getting it out of the way by myself.”

“Shit…” Andra closed the door. “Well, obviously I don’t mind you crashing for the night here.” Ghost didn’t respond to that, and the air grew thick. “I have a spare bedroom upstairs; the couch also has a pullout bed so you have options.”

“I’ll stay down here.” Ghost declared.

Andra realized she was making him stand there with dripping wet clothes. “Oh my gods! Y-you can go ahead and use the downstairs bathroom to dry off.” She led him to the bathroom, forgetting that he already knew where it was. “It’s stocked with towels and everything else.” She assumed his bag had clothes in them, like an emergency bag she had stashed in her truck as well. Great minds think alike.

“Thank you, I won’t be long.” Ghost shut the bathroom door behind him, and Andra darted upstairs to her own bedroom. With the door closed behind her, she felt her heart racing in her chest.

Ghost is staying overnight.

-----

Any interaction with my story is always appreciated! Thank you if you've made it to the end of this chapter 🖤

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stylesispunk · 8 months

Text

TIME CASTS A SPELL ON YOU, BUT YOU WON'T FORGET ME | CHAPTER 3

Joel Miller x f!oc

Chapter 3: damn your love, damn your lies

series masterlist | previous chapter | next | masterlist

Summary: fifteen years ago, amidst the filling of divorce papers and the broken promises of a happily ever after, the world collapsed. Amidst the ruins of cities and the remnants of dreams, Joel's search for his ex-wife began. No matter where he turned, the woman who had once loved him held him captive, a presence he couldn't escape.

word count: 2k>

warnings: tlou spoilers, fluff, angst (much), betrayal, no use of y/n.

a/n: Hello, part 3 is here! I've been having hard days lately so I'm not very inspired or motivated by this. I feel like the story lost the plot I had in mind at the beginning haha but it will make sense soon. PLEASE reblog and comment, your feedback feels like food to me?? If you have any questions, you can come to my blog and ask them. Happy reading💌

September 2003

Emily stumbled through the chaos that had consumed Texas. Smoke billowed from burning buildings, and the distant sounds of sirens and screams were a haunting reminder of the world she once knew was ending quickly. She had never imagined that civilization could crumble so easily.

Her heart raced as she navigated the streets once full of life, her eyes darting about in search of safety. Every face she passed was a potential threat. All those survival movies suddenly felt like a joke.

Emily's steps led her to a deserted alley, a place where she hoped to catch her breath and gather her thoughts. But she wasn't alone. A figure emerged from the shadows, and her body tensed with fear.

The man, dressed in tattered clothes and with a wild look in his eyes, approached slowly. Emily instinctively took a step back, her hands trembling. She had no way of knowing if this man was friend or foe.

But then something unexpected happened. The man extended a hand, not as a threat, but as an offering. He spoke softly, his voice a stark contrast to the chaos that surrounded them.

"You look like you could use some help," he said.

Emily hesitated, torn between her survival instincts and a desperate need for companionship. She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

Now

Emily's eyes snapped open, and for a brief, disoriented moment, she had no idea where she was. The memories of the past days flooded back, and her heart pounded in her chest. She was in the car, with Joel and Ellie. Joel’s hands gripped the steering wheel, focused on the road ahead. Ellie’s gaze was fixed on the landscape outside the window.

"Hey, you okay?" Ellie's voice broke through Emily's disorientation once she noticed her awakening. She turned to see Ellie's concerned eyes studying her.

Emily nodded, though her racing heart betrayed her. "Yeah, just a bad dream," she replied, her voice shaky.

Joel glanced at her briefly, concern flickering in his eyes before returning to the road. He didn't say anything, but deep down he felt Emily was hiding something.

Emily tried to shake off the remnants of the dream, the memories of the first days navigating through this unknown world, and the memories of the mistakes she had made were taking their toll.

Taking a deep breath, she leaned back in her seat. Emily closed her eyes briefly, but her thoughts were interrupted.

“Nightmare?” Joel’s voice filled the air inside the truck.

Emily sighed softly; her eyes still closed. "Yeah," she admitted, her voice carrying the weight of the memories that haunted her dreams. "Just a nightmare."

Joel's grip on the steering wheel seemed to tighten, a subtle sign of his concern for Emily. She could sense that he wanted to ask more, to dig deeper into what troubled her, but he remained silent.

Ellie, however, was never one to let things go easily. She shifted in her seat, leaning closer to Emily from the backseat. "Wanna talk about it?" she asked, her tone gentle and understanding.

Emily hesitated for a moment. She appreciated Ellie's concern, but there were things she wasn’t ready to face yet.

"Not right now, Ellie," she replied softly, finally opening her eyes to look at the teenager. "Maybe later."

For now, she has decided to let the nightmares and memories rest. There would be time to confront them later.

"Slow down," Joel suggested, looking at the plate of food in Ellie's hand.

"This is slow," Ellie replied, inspecting the content skeptically. "What am I even eating?"

"That is a 20-year-old Chef Boyardee ravioli," Joel answered, talking around a mouthful of the same ravioli.

"That guy was good," Ellie remarked with her mouth full.

"I actually agree," Joel admitted.

"How long are we staying out here?"

"I figure I sleep tonight... and drive all day tomorrow, all night, get us to Wyoming by next morning," Joel explained.

Ellie, feeling the chill of the night, inquired, "So, can we start a fire? I'm freezing."

Joel considered her request. "Now, why am I gonna tell you no?"

Emily voiced a concern, "Because Infected will see the smoke."

Joel shook his head confidently. "No. Fungus isn't that smart. This is too remote for Infected, anyway."

“People” Emily answered.

Ellie continued, "People? So, what are they gonna do? Rob us?"

Joel looked over at Emily, then at Ellie, a hint of caution in his eyes, as he replied, "Oh, they'll have way more in mind than that."

Emily shifted uncomfortable on the ground, so she decided to stand up and put a little distance between her and Joel and Ellie. The cold night air seemed to pierce through her bones, and she shivered involuntarily. The conversation reminded her just how bone-chilling the night could be when you are in danger.

Joel and Ellie exchanged a glance, their unspoken communication indicating that they understood something was wrong with Emily.

“Are you worried about her?” Ellie pipped up

“What?”

Joel's eyes flicked to Emily, who was standing beside the car a few meters from them. He shifted uncomfortably on the ground, not used to having his emotions exposed so easily again. Not after he spent so many years building these walls.

"I'm just looking out for us," Joel grumbled, his tone gruff. But Ellie didn't buy it.

"You can lie, but your eyes don't," Ellie persisted. "You still care about her, don't you?"

Joel sighed, a heavy exhale that seemed to release some of the tension he was carrying. He spared a brief glance at Emily, and at that moment, their eyes locked. Despite the turbulent passing of time, there was still something between them. Something haunting all their what-ifs.

"Yes,” Joel admitted quietly. "I’ve been caring about her my whole life.”

And even with the distance, Emily heard those words. She felt her soul breaking, and the swell of emotions and guilt inside her intensified. The past and the present intertwined together, weighing heavily on her.

As the night settled in, and the three of them were getting comfortable to sleep, Ellie chuckled, breaking the tense atmosphere of the night. Joel grunted in response.

"Joel," Ellie persisted, raising her voice slightly to get his attention.

"What? Can I ask you a serious question?" Joel asked, a touch of annoyance in his voice.

"Yeah," Ellie replied, sighing playfully. "Why did the scarecrow get an award?"

Joel let out a deep, exasperated breath. "Because he was outstanding in his field."

Ellie burst into laughter. "You jerk! Did you read this somewhere?"

"No," Joel said, feigning innocence. "Now go to sleep."

As the laughter faded, Ellie's expression grew more serious.

"Hm. Those people you mentioned earlier," Ellie began, her voice quieter, "there's no way anyone knows we're here, right?"

"No one's gonna find us," Joel reassured, his voice steady despite the unease that still lingered in the air.

"Okay," Ellie replied, her voice tinged with relief.

"Actually, smells kinda good," Ellie added, snuggling herself inside her sleeping bag.

"Well, that would be Frank's then," Joel replied with a hint of amusement.

Joel didn’t sleep, instead, he kept his eyes open watching Emily’s movements. He knew something was bothering her.

As the night grew darker, Joel couldn't bring himself to sleep. Instead, he kept his eyes open, watching Emily looking up at the sky as if she was pleading to the universe for something in return to her. He knew something was bothering her, his feelings for her still hung in the air, unresolved.

Emily had been lost in her thoughts, replaying the millions of thoughts inside her mind, and Joel took his chance to go and talk to her.

“You know no one’s gonna find us here”, Joel broke the eerie silence in the middle of the night.

His voice brought Emily back to the current moment. She turned to look at him. His eyes held a mixture of concern and something deeper, something unresolved.

"I know," Emily replied quietly, her voice carrying a hint of worry.

Joel shifted dangerously closer to her, the warmth of the moonlight dancing in his eyes. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing” Emily answered.

"Emily," he said softly, his voice filled with concern, "you can talk to me, you know."

She hesitated for a moment; her gaze fixed on the trees on the horizon. The memories of the past, of the early days of the outbreak, were never far from her mind. She didn’t want to admit her feelings for the man beside her never burned into flames. They were there, still lingering in her heart.

And she didn’t want to admit it either, it was that Joel wasn’t the bad man she thought he had become. He was a human, the man who once was her Joel.

“Can I?” she questioned.

Joel nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. "You can," he affirmed, his voice a gentle reassurance.

Emily took a deep breath, the night air cool against her skin. She could feel the weight of unspoken words pressing down on her chest, and yet, she was hesitating, as if she stood at the edge of a precipice, unsure of whether to take the leap into the unknown.

“I don’t wanna hurt you” she whispered.

Joel reached out and gently cupped Emily's cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that had escaped her eye. "Emily" he said softly, but the tone behind was desperation.

But she pulled away, before diving into her feelings, and Joel gave Emily the space she clearly needed.

Emily took another deep breath, steadying herself. The night was quiet, and the moon cast a gentle glow around them. She knew she had to be honest with him, no matter how painful it might be.

"When we separated," she began, her voice soft, "I thought I was going to hate you for the rest of my life. I was angry at you, Joel, for what happened, for the choices you made alone. But as time went by, that anger turned into something else. It turned into longing."

Joel listened attentively, his eyes never leaving her face. The admission hung heavily in the air, a confession of emotions that had been festering in her heart for far too long. Emily's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, her eyes reflecting the moonlight.

"I couldn't forgive you," she whispered, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

"And I couldn't forget you," he interrupted, his words filled with a raw, unspoken longing.

Their words hung in the stillness of the night, each sentence carrying a weight that seemed to echo through the darkness around them.

Emily finally turned to look directly into Joel's eyes.

“But you found someone to share your life with Joel. Even when the world went to shit.”

Joel met her gaze, his eyes holding a mix of emotions. "No," he replied, a hint of pain in his voice, "it wasn't like that."

"Joel, I—" Emily began, but he cut her off.

"Listen," he said with a determined tone. "The night everything went to hell, I searched everywhere for you. I searched for you for years."

Emily's eyes welled with tears as Joel's words sank in. She had spent years thinking that Joel had moved on. Now, hearing that he had searched for her all that time, her heart ached.

"Why didn't you find me?" Emily asked, her voice trembling.

Joel's expression was haunted, his jaw clenched as he looked away briefly, memories of those dark times flooding back. "I tried," he admitted, his voice thick with regret. "But I couldn't find any trace of you."

Emily nodded, understanding the harsh reality of their situation. The outbreak had torn their lives apart, scattering them to the winds.

“So, you gave up. Like you always do” she spitted, even with the pain her voice was soft.

Joel continued, his voice carrying the weight of his past actions. "I never gave up on you, not in my heart. But I had to make choices in order to survive.”

“You know, back when it all started," she began, ignoring Joel’s words. "I was alone. And then I met someone. A man who saved my life that night” She took a deep breath “Mark”

Joel's eyes widened in surprise. His heart broke a little bit at the possibility of Emily loving someone else.

“That sweet man is haunting me now” Emily continued, her voice heavy with sadness.

"Why?" Joel finally asked, his voice tinged with frustration.

Emily shook her head, her eyes reflecting the pain of her past. “Because men don’t like when a woman outdo them” The bitterness in Emily's voice was a proof that people had become monsters.

Joel couldn't help but clench his jaw at Emily's words. The bitterness in her voice painted a vivid picture of the kind of person that man had become for her.

Joel remained silent for a moment; his eyes focused solely on Emily.

"We'll deal with him," Joel finally said, determination lacing his voice. "We'll find a way to stop him”

Emily's gratitude shone in her eyes as she looked at him. Despite the pain of their past, there was still a bond between them.

The morning came with a soft and cheerful brightness. The sun's early rays bathed the sky in gentle orange and pink hues, creating a warm and welcoming glow over the landscape, embracing the three of them on a new day.

Birds started singing their symphony, filling the air with joyful melodies. The globe appeared to gently wake up as if shaking off the remnants of the night's gloom.

Joel was wide awake, his gaze fixated on Emily's sleeping form. He had a glimmer of optimism that after last night their shattered relationship could be rebuilt over again.

However, his peaceful scenario was shattered by Ellie.

"Ugh! The hell is that?" Ellie grimaced, eyeing a cup of coffee in disdain.

"You don't like coffee?" Joel raised an eyebrow, amused by her reaction.

“You didn't sleep," she said, ignoring Joel’s question.

"Not much," Joel admitted, glancing over at Emily, who had managed to doze off during the night.

Ellie smirked mischievously.

“It’s not what you think” Joel added hastily, anticipating Ellie's imagination. He wanted to make sure she didn't jump to any conclusions about his relationship with Emily.

Emily stirred, slowly opening her eyes. She met Joel's gaze, and a sense of calm passed between them. Last night's conversation felt like opening a door to a part of their past that had been buried. Joel offered a small, reassuring smile, and Emily responded with a hesitant one of her own. It was a fragile moment, a glimpse of the possibility that they could find their way back to each other.

It he only knew.

As they packed up the car and prepared to hit the road once more, Emily's gaze fell on her belongings inside her backpack. Guilt gnawed at her, and she knew she needed to come clean.

Emily took a deep breath and approached Joel with a hesitant expression. "

"Joel," she said quietly, there's something I need to tell you."

“Can it wait?” Joel asked, his voice laced with concern. "We're gonna hit the road, and I don't want any surprises right now."

Emily hesitated but the weight of her confession was becoming unbearable.

"It can’t," she replied, her voice filled with regret. "I have to tell you now."

Joel's brows furrowed as he considered her words. He wanted to trust Emily, but he also knew that they weren’t the same.

He nodded, a sigh escaping his lips. "Tell me."

“But before you get mad or something, promise me you will listen” Emily urged, her voice filled with apprehension.

Emily took a deep breath, her fingers trembling. But in despair, Joel took the crumpled piece of paper from Emily's hand, his fingers gripping it tightly. He unfolded it and quickly scanned the contents. The heading at the top of the page read, "Wanted: Joel Miller." The pamphlet contained a crude drawing of Joel's face, along with a list of crimes attributed to him, both real and exaggerated.

Joel's heart raced as he read through the document. He looked up at Emily, his expression somber.

"Emily," he said quietly, holding up the pamphlet, "What is this?

a/n: So what do you think is happening? betrayal?

tags: @joeldjarin @catchallfangirl @phoebe13

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