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sourwolf-sterek32 · 5 months

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Found You- Part 6

Summary: Nearly 10 years ago, you left home after a bad incident with your parents, Rick and Lori Grimes. In that time, you married a redneck down south and started a family. But it all came crashing down when the dead started to walk.

Pairings: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12.4k

Warnings: language, violence, blood,

PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5

Since the Wolves and horde of walkers attacked Alexandria, the community had been quiet.

Everyone slowly got back to their old lives, but none of you dared to let your guard down, not again.

Rick became the official leader of Alexandria, and nobody questioned or challenged it. Leading was what your father did best. It came naturally to him with his law enforcement background, and he was damn good at it.

Daryl was his right-hand man. The two of them had an almost brotherly relationship despite Rick technically being his father-in-law which the others in the group still struggled to wrap their head around.

The gunshot wound on your shoulder had healed nicely leaving nothing but a small pink scar in its place as a permanent reminder of that horrible day.

Ricky kept up firearms training with Daryl and Rick. Little Merle Dean -who isn't so little anymore- had begun learning too. The boys were good at it and learnt quickly. Although that didn't come as much of a surprise since they grew up around Daryl and Merle Dixon.

Now, you found yourself sitting in the back seat of a car listening to Daryl and Rick argue about music choices while on a supply run.

You and Denise had come up with a list of medical supplies that Alexandria was running low on and although you loved your father and husband dearly, those two wouldn't know a bottle of aspirin from a bottle of antibiotics if it hit them in the face. So, you got to join them on the supply run. Plus, you needed to collect a personal item that wasn't on the list and there was no way you were telling either of them what that item was.

It was nice being outside the confined walls of Alexandria.

You relaxed in the backseat staring out the window as the trees flew by listening to Rick sing the lyrics to some obnoxious song he found on a CD while Daryl pretended to be annoyed by it from the passenger seat.

The three of you never got much time alone together without the others around, so you were going to enjoy it while you could.

It wasn't long before you came across a small delivery truck inside a shed stacked full of food and supplies. It was like a gold mine and even had boxes of toothpaste which Michonne was going to love.

After siphoning the fuel out the car and pouring it into the truck, the three of you squished up in the front cabin and made your way back to Alexandria. You stopped at a pharmacy nearby and collected what you could from the heavily looted store, but you salvaged more items than you thought you would, so that was a bonus.

"Can we check out the gas station?" You asked, pointing towards the old abandoned station further down the road. "There might be some bandages and stuff since we didn't find any earlier."

Rick nodded already slowing the truck down before he pulled up in front of the broken gas bowsers and you all climbed out. Daryl went straight across the parking lot towards what looked to be a tipped over vending machine and you grabbed your paper list before walking towards the front door of the store.

"Yo, give me a hand with this!" Daryl called out.

Rick glanced over at you hesitantly, "you okay in there on your own?"

You rolled your eyes, "I can take care of myself. Go help my husband before he breaks his back trying to lift that thing."

You turned and began brushing off the dirt and grime that covered the glass door of the gas station before peaking inside for any threats. Once satisfied that there were no walkers, you pushed the door open and purposely knocked over the sunglass stand that was nearby.

The stand crashed against the tiles loudly. The sunglasses toppling off and smashing against the hard ground and you rested your hand over the gun on your hip cautiously. You stood in the doorway listening and looking but was met with nothing but silence.

Rick and Daryl were now trying to wrap a chain around the vending machine. Where the two of them even found that chain was something you couldn't figure out, but they were both invested with getting that thing open.

Shaking your head at them, you walked into the store and went straight to the medical section but as suspected most of the items on the shelves had been taken. Gas stations were always the first places to get looted when the outbreak started.

Ensuring that Rick and Daryl were still occupied by the vending machine you made your way down another aisle before stopping in front of the feminine hygiene section and picking up a packet from the top shelf.

A pregnancy test.

"Hey, ya good in here?"

You flinched so hard at Daryl's voice that the packet slipped from your grasp and fell to the floor by your feet. You let out a shaky exhale and glanced over your shoulder not expecting him to be right behind you.

Damn hunter and his quiet footsteps.

"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle ya." Daryl apologised picking up the box you had dropped and held it out towards you.

You could pinpoint the exact moment he realised what was in his hand because his body turned tense and eyes widened into saucers before snapping back up to you. He didn't say anything for a moment, and you remained silent letting him process before Daryl cleared his throat.

"This why you were insistent on coming on this supply run?" He asked, which was not what you were expecting him to say first, so you simply nodded. "Ya coulda told me 'n I would have grabbed it for ya."

You opened your mouth to respond but no words came out.

Daryl was handling this a lot better than you had expected considering you had a full-on meltdown a few weeks ago when you began to put the pieces together. The weight gain, the cravings, the food poisoning which probably wasn't food poisoning at all. It all pointed at one thing, but you had been too afraid to find out.

Raising a baby during an apocalypse? Not on your to-do list.

But, well, you weren't opposed to having another little Dixon running around and you knew Daryl wasn't against it either. But being pregnant in this new world was risky. You heard about what happened with Lori at the prison. And not just her death. Later in her pregnancy she became slow, weaker, more of a reliability than anything else and although you had the safety and security of Alexandria, it still worried you. You didn't want to become a reliability to anyone especially not to your family.

"Does anyone else know?" Daryl asked, snapping you out of your thoughts.

"I don't even know. Hence the test." You answered a little nervously.

Daryl seemed to sense your worry and tucked the box in the inside pocket of his vest before he reached out and pulled you into his chest, hugging you tightly.

"You know-"

Whatever Daryl was about to say died in his throat when your father yelled angrily from outside the store.

"Back up! Keep 'em up!"

You and Daryl pulled apart and bolted out the store without a single word needing to be shared between you.

"Whoa, easy. I was just running from the dead." A stranger's voice said.

Your Smith & Wesson was grasped tightly in your hand as you stepped out the front door behind Daryl who had his handgun raised as well.

It was still strange seeing Daryl with a Glock instead of his usual crossbow. He hadn't been able to find another since his got stolen all those weeks ago and you knew he missed it, same with his motorcycle.

Your guns were aimed at the stranger in front of the gas station. He had long hair with a bandana around his face and was standing a few metres away from Rick with his hands raised in surrender staring down the barrel of the Colt Python.

"How many?" Daryl questioned.

The stranger kept his eyes on Rick for a moment before he glanced over at you briefly taking in the gun before focusing on Daryl.

"10, maybe more. I'm not risking it. Once it gets to double digits, I start running."

"Where are the dead?" You asked, finger hovering over the trigger.

The man didn't appear to have any guns on him, but he could easily conceal one beneath the long coat he was wearing so you weren't going to take any chances.

"About half a mile back. They're headed this way. You probably have about 11 minutes."

You glanced over at Daryl and Rick trying to gauge how they wanted to play this. The guy seemed harmless and was nice, but you weren't stupid. Bad people always tried to be nice.

Rick eventually nodded and lowered his Colt. "Okay, thanks for letting us know."

"Yeah. There's more of them than us, right? Gotta stick together." He said before looking back at Daryl. "Right?"

Daryl just stared right back at him, his gun unwavering for a few more seconds before he reluctantly lowered it, and you did the same.

"You got a camp?" He asked curiously.

"Nope." You answered before either of the guys could.

"Do you?" Rick asked back.

"No." The man shook his head. "Sorry for running into you. I'm gonna go now." He turned and began walking away before speaking over his shoulder. "If this is the next world, I hope it's good to you guys."

"I'm Rick. This is Daryl and Y/N. What's your name?"

You shot a quick warning look towards your father. Daryl and Aaron used to go out looking for people, but they hadn't done that since the Wolves and for good reason.

The man paused before slowly turning back around to face the three of you. He lowered the dirty bandana from around his face revealing a beard you hadn't realised was there.

"Paul Rovia. But my friends used to call me Jesus. Your pick." He answered holding both arms out to the side mimicking Jesus on a cross.

Well, that name suited him.

"Said you didn't have a camp. You on your own?" Rick pressed, trying to get more information out of him.

"Yeah. But, still, best not to try anything."

"Best not to make threats you can't keep, either." Daryl muttered.

Jesus smirked, "exactly."

"How many walkers-"

"No, not this guy." Daryl said cutting Rick off, but he ignored him.

"How many walkers have you killed?"

Jesus was already turning on his heels and jogging off in the opposite direction.

"Sorry, gotta run! You should too. Think you've got about seven minutes!" He shouted over his shoulder before disappearing around the back of the gas station towards the woods.

"Wanna explain what that was about? We don't know him. He could be bad news." You said, looking over at your father who shook his head.

"He was clean. His beard, it was trimmed. There's more going on there."

"He didn't have a gun, either." Daryl added.

"We could track him, watch him for a while, get to know more. See if he's really alone. Maybe bring him back." Rick suggested looking between the two of you.

Daryl scoffed "nah, guy calls himself Jesus."

Before anyone had a chance to say anything further on the topic sudden gunshots rang out from behind the building. The three of you sprinted around the side of the gas station, your guns drawn at the ready as you slowly peaked around the side to find a bunch of firecrackers exploding on a steel drum.

What the hell?

"Firecrackers." Rick pointed out like that wasn't already obvious.

Wait.

"This is a distraction." You said in realisation causing them both to look over at you in panic.

"He swiped your keys, didn't he?" Daryl asked.

Rick felt his jeans, "ah, shit!" He hissed under his breath when the keys were no longer in his pockets.

The three of you ran back around to the front of the gas station just as Jesus sped off with the truck shouting a 'sorry' through the window as he drove off down the road towing the vending machine behind him with the chain. Surprisingly enough, he tossed Daryl's backpack out the window because stealing the truck was okay but not the backpack apparently.

"Shit." Rick swore under his breath while the three of you stood in the middle of the road watching the truck disappear over the hill.

Well, there went all those supplies and food.

In the end, it was decided to follow the truck on foot. Running was not your favourite thing, but it paid off because the vending machine had broken free from the chains and was sitting in the middle of the road. So, after stocking up on what Daryl could carry in his backpack and after shot gunning a can of soda you continued down the road.

It wasn't far before you found the truck on the side of the road. Jesus was changing a flat tire, so it wasn't hard to sneak up and catch him by surprise.

"Do you even have any ammo?" Jesus asked looking up at the three of you unimpressed after Rick tackled him to the ground.

In sync you, Daryl and Rick shifted your sights from Jesus and fired at the walker stumbling out the woods nearby. All three bullets pierced through its head before you aimed back down at the man below you.

"Okay." Jesus said, slightly shocked at what he just saw. "You gonna shoot me over a truck?"

"There's a lot of food on that truck. The keys, now." Rick ordered.

A few minutes later, Rick had Jesus tied up on the side of the road and you were back inside the cabin of the truck squished in the middle between Rick and Daryl while munching on some candy.

"So long, ya prick!" Daryl shouted over his shoulder flipping Jesus off out the window before he kicked his feet up on the dash causing you and Rick to laugh.

You thought that would be the last time you saw this guy, Jesus, but you were wrong. You were so very wrong.

20 miles of driving later, you sat in the passenger seat of the truck while Rick sped through a paddock while Daryl chased Jesus on foot through the tall grass.

The man was like a damn cockroach. You couldn't get rid of him.

"Jesus Christ." You mumbled under your breath watching Daryl dashing across the field while Rick cut the stranger off with the truck.

Jesus tried to duck back around the vehicle, but Rick quickly slammed it into reverse all the way back before he jumped out the car leaving you sitting there in shock at everything that has happened in the past five minutes.

Daryl was still chasing Jesus around the field and if you didn't know any better you would have sworn the two grown men were playing tag.

This was not how you thought today was going to pan out.

"Y/N, the walkers!" Rick shouted pointing at something to the left.

You climbed out the truck to find a small group of walkers in the field getting drawn in from all the noise. Pulling your hunting knife out the sheath on your belt, you helped your father take out the walkers with ease before a gunshot echoed across the field.

Sudden dread filled your stomach as you spun around to find Jesus now in the truck and Daryl leaning in through the driver door with a walker lying dead behind him.

"Thanks." Daryl said to the other man before punching him across the jaw. "That's my gun!"

You couldn't quite see what was happening but a moment later the truck began to roll backwards towards the lake and Daryl and Jesus quickly tumbled out the opened door, Jesus getting his head hit by said door on the way through, knocking him unconscious.

"Annnnd the truck is about to go for a swim." You commented while you and your father watch the truck roll backwards into the lake and sink below the surface.

Damnit.

Daryl stood by the edge of the lake watching as the last air bubble popped to the surface and you and Rick made your way across the field towards him. The three of you stood in silence staring at where the truck once was before glancing down at the unconscious stranger in the grass.

"Let's go check out them cars by the barn, get the hell out of here." Daryl muttered in annoyance.

"What about Jesus?" You asked, pointing to the man on the ground.

"What 'bout him?"

"Well, he kinda helped you." You answered glancing over at Daryl who shrugged his shoulders. "We can't just leave him. He's practically walker bait."

"He ever pull a weapon on you?" Rick asked, already knowing the answer.

Daryl sighed, "fine. Let's put him up a tree."

Jesus didn't get put up a tree.

He got put in the back of a car Daryl managed to hotwire and was taken to Alexandria. Whether that decision was a good one or not was still up for debate, but Rick put him down in the cell Morgan built for the time being until that was figured out.

After the long, crazy, exhausting day, you sat on the edge of the bed while Daryl paced the bedroom holding the pregnancy test you had taken earlier.

It was positive.

"You were calm earlier. What happened?" You asked, not having the energy to deal with his freakout right now. All you wanted to do was sleep.

"This happened. I didn't think it would actually be positive." He said, waving the stick in the air. "How-how is it possible? We've been careful."

"Yeah, well, it's not like we planned our other pregnancies... they just kinda happened." You responded thinking back to the first time you and Daryl slept together and fell pregnant after one night all those years ago.

Daryl sighed, "yeah, I guess that's half my fault."

"Yep, your pull-out game needs some working on, Dixon." You commented before laying down on top of the bed with a deep sigh.

A few seconds later, the other side of the bed dipped slightly, and Daryl laid down beside you, propping himself up on his elbow before he rested his hand over your shirt feeling the small baby bump that was already there.

"How'd I not notice this earlier?" He wondered aloud.

"I've got a bit of tummy from having two kids. It didn't stand out." You simply answered resting your hand over his. "We can't tell the others. My dad would freakout and Maggie... she only just announced her pregnancy and it's her first. I don't want to take her moment away from her."

Daryl nodded in understanding, his hand still resting over the bump.

"We're really havin' another baby?" He asked like he wasn't just holding the positive test a few minutes ago. His voice was softer than you had heard it in a long time, and he tilted his head towards you, those crystal blue eyes meeting your hazel ones.

You smiled, "we are."

You awoke with a start bolting up right in bed and grabbing your handgun off the nightstand on instinct. You scanned the dark bedroom cautiously for danger but there was nothing.

What the hell had woken you up?

"S'wrong?" Daryl's rough sleep laced voice mumbled as he rubbed his eyes and looked over at you but quickly snapped out of his tiredness when he saw the gun in your hand. "What happened?" He asked sitting up on high alert.

"Nothing. Something woke me up... I thought I heard footsteps. It was probably just someone using the bathroom down the hall." You dismissed, putting your gun back down on the nightstand.

It wasn't uncommon to hear the others walking around the house in the middle of the night. The floorboards creaked in certain places and most of you knew where to step to avoid them, but half asleep on a midnight bathroom trip, someone might forget.

Daryl's eyes swept around the bedroom for danger like you had done moments earlier not as convinced about the bathroom thing before his body suddenly turned tense. Even in the dark you could see the muscles across his back and shoulders were tight while he stared straight at the bedroom door that was slightly ajar.

"Did ya open that?" He asked cautiously.

You began reaching for your handgun again because, no, you did not open the door.

"Put your hands up. Now!" Ricky's voice shouted from down the corridor.

The anger and sternness of your son's voice had you jumping out of bed in an instant. You hastily grabbed your dressing gown and threw it over your shoulders knowing the tank top you were wearing was exposing your small baby bump.

Daryl was already out the bedroom not bothering to put a shirt on as he ran out the room in nothing but his boxers and a gun in his hand.

"What the hell are you doing in our house?" Carl's voice questioned a second later.

The Smith and Wesson was clutched tightly in your hand as you dashed out the bedroom and sprinted down the hallway in the direction of your brother's voice but paused when you spotted Jesus sitting on the steps. Ricky, Dean and Carl stood side-by-side with their own handguns aimed at the man while Daryl stepped in front of the boys and pressed the barrel of his gun to the back of Jesus' head.

"Answer the kid. What the fuck are ya doin' in here?" Daryl hissed.

You carefully took a step forward, your gun drawn and aimed at Jesus too although you doubted he would try anything with all the firearms aimed at his head.

"I'm, uh, sitting on the steps looking at this painting, waiting for his mum and dad to get dressed." Jesus answered nodding at Carl. "Hi. I'm Jesus."

His mum and dad?

What?

As if on cue, a door squeaked open, and Rick rushed around the corner frantically buttoning up his jeans before pausing when he saw you all standing there. Michonne suddenly appeared behind Rick adjusting her shirt awkwardly.

You looked between Michonne and your shirtless father for a moment before sudden realisation hit you.

Holy shit.

They were sleeping together?

"Uh, boys, Daryl, Y/N, it's... it's okay." Rick reassured like he was already aware of Jesus being inside the house.

Wait, had Jesus walked in on Rick and Michonne together?

Suddenly the front door of the house slammed open and a moment later, Maggie, Glenn and Abraham were halfway up the stairs with their weapons aimed at Jesus who simply remained sitting not fazed by all the guns pointed at him.

"I bet Merle was on watch tonight, huh?" Abraham muttered glaring at Jesus before he glanced up at you and Daryl before looking over at Rick and Michonne, and his glare turned into a smirk. "Were there any adults in this house that weren't bumping uglies tonight?"

Ricky, Dean and Carl both frowned in confusion and glanced over at you guys before Rick sighed and stepped forward pointily ignoring the redhead's comment.

"You said we should talk." He stated, looking at Jesus. "So let's talk."

The Hilltop.

That was Jesus' community. They had livestock, crops, supplies and were already trading with other settlements.

Everybody was hesitant to believe his words, so he offered to take you to Hilltop himself to prove it and Rick agreed wanting to meet Hilltops leader Gregory and negotiate a trading system.

Daryl and Merle were busy tuning up the old RV getting ready for the drive to Hilltop. Ricky and Dean were leaning over the hood eager to learn and help where they could while you stood off to the side with Carl.

"Did you know about dad and Michonne?" Your brother asked in a hushed whisper.

"If I did, I would've told you. That's like sibling rules 101."

Carl smiled softly, "what other sibling rules are there?"

"Well, there's... always share your food." You replied before swiftly snatching the beef jerky out his hand.

"Hey!" Carl exclaimed yanking it back out your hand before licking the entire side of it.

"Really?" You asked raising your eyebrows at him.

Carl smirked and held it out towards you. "Do you still want it?"

"Yep." You replied popping the 'p' before snatching the jerky and taking a bite causing your brother to screw his face up in disgust. "Rule number two, always listen to your older sister."

Carl rolled his eyes but didn't say anything in response before your father walked over with Judith on his hip and the two of you quickly shifted back into serious mode.

"You sure about this?" You asked, nodding at the RV.

"No." Rick answered honestly. "But if he's telling the truth... this could be the start of everything."

"Look, I was going to tell you two about Michonne, but it just happened. It just happened... last night."

"Gotcha." You nodded unable to hide your smirk. "She's not that much older than me, you know that, right?"

Rick glared at you, "and Daryl is around my age. You know that?"

"You two have a weird taste in partners." Carl cringed before his face broke out in a small smile. "It's cool though. You and Michonne."

Rick stared at his son for a moment, a faint wash of relief flashing across his face before he nodded, "get your stuff. Gabriel can take care of Judith while we're gone."

"No, I'm not coming."

Your head snapped in your brother's direction in shock. He would usually jump at the opportunity to get outside the walls of Alexandria.

"Someone's gotta stay back, keep this place safe." Carl explained with a shrug. "A kid with a messed-up face probably wouldn't make the best first impression anyway."

You frowned a little at his words not liking them at all.

"You'd make a better impression than Merle Dixon over there." You commented throwing your thumb in your brother-in-laws direction.

Merle burped loudly blowing it in Daryl's direction causing your husband to elbow him in the stomach while he continued to pour fuel into the RV ready for the trip to Hilltop.

Carl laughed from beside you watching the brothers interact before Abraham's voice boomed across the community.

"Let's chew up some asphalt!"

Carl took that as his cue and grabbed Judith from Ricks arms without further discussion.

"Ask ya mother."

You looked over hearing Daryl's voice to find Ricky and Dean jogging across the road with pleading eyes and you sighed.

What did they want?

"Uncle Merle said yes, but dad said to ask you if we could come to Hilltop." Ricky explained.

"Uncle Merle said, yes, did he?" You said and both boys nodded before you looked past them towards the eldest Dixon who was smirking from where he leant against the RV.

"C'mon, what's the issue? We used to live outside those walls with 'em. They can handle themselves!"

"Bro, shut up." Daryl muttered under his breath.

"Please, mama." Dean begged, bringing your attention back to your sons. "Uncle Merle's right, we can handle ourselves and we'll follow your instructions."

"We will." Ricky nodded in agreement.

You sighed, glancing over at Daryl who met your gaze from across the road and shrugged, leaving the decision up to you.

"Okay. Fine. But you stay by my side and listen to the adults, deal?"

Ricky and Dean both smiled brightly, "deal!"

On the way to Hilltop, you came across a crash on the road. A few people from Hilltop were involved and after rescuing them, you continued on your way to the other settlement.

Hilltop was surrounded by tall wooden walls with a large steel door at the front. The community wasn't like you had anticipated. A large mansion was at the centre of it, Barrington House, Jesus had called it. There were a few sheds and barns located to the left along with rows of trailers to the right.

It wasn't like Alexandria, but it was decent.

The leader, Gregory, was not so decent.

To put it simply, Gregory was an asshole. None of you liked him and Jesus wasn't his biggest fan either, but he was still the leader of Hilltop nonetheless, so you had to play nice and figure out a trading system that you could all agree on.

That was the hard part.

"Can you talk to Gregory?" You asked, looking over at Jesus. "He doesn't like any of us. He has clearly made his mind up about that, but you might be able to talk him into a trading system with Alexandria."

Jesus nodded running his fingers through his hair as he glanced around at the group of you standing in the lobby of Barrington House. Ricky and Dean sat at the foot of the stairs listening to the adult discussion intently while Merle leant against the railing beside them not interested in this conversation.

"We need food. We came all this way, we're gonna get it." Rick simply stated.

"I will talk to him and we will work this out." Jesus reassured, staring at you before glancing over at Rick. "Circumstances change. We're doing well now, and you will next. I will make him understand that. Can you give me a few days?"

Rick remained silent as he stared right back at the long-haired man before he glanced over at you with a questioning look wanting your opinion.

"We can give you a few days." You declared glancing back at Jesus as Rick slowly nodded in agreement and the other man smiled.

Suddenly the front door to Barrington House slammed open startling the group of you before an unknown man stepped inside and a moment later, Gregory emerged from his office in panic.

"What's wrong?" The leader questioned staring at the other man.

"They're back."

That was all the man said before he rushed back outside but you did not like the look of worry on Gregorys face and by the way Daryl and Merle both stood up straighter on alert, neither of them did either.

You all followed Gregory outside to find three people walking into the community and they didn't look happy.

"Nathan, what happened to everybody else? Where's Tim and Marsha?" Gregory asked, walking over to them.

"They're dead." Nathan, the man with the thick beard, answered.

"Negan?"

"Yeah."

You glanced over at Daryl who met your gaze briefly with a small nod of confirmation.

Negan was with the group of bikers that Daryl, Merle and Abraham crossed paths with, and he blew them up with the bazooka.

There weren't many people named Negan around here. It had to be the same person.

"We had a deal." Gregory said in confusion.

"He said it wasn't enough. Was the drop light?" The other man behind him questioned, but Gregory shook his head.

"They still have Craig." The woman informed sadly.

"They said they'd keep him alive, return him to us, if I deliver a message to you." Nathan explained stepping closer to Gregory.

"So, tell me." The leader responded.

Nathan reached out and grabbed Gregorys shoulder pulling the older man closer to him, "I'm sorry." Was all he said before he pulled out a knife and stabbed his leader through the stomach.

Gregory let out a cry of pain as the man yanked the blade out. You remained frozen where you stood in shock of what the fuck just happened. Ricks police training kicked in instantly and he was the first to rush headfirst into the scene.

Your father grabbed Nathan and pulled him away from Gregory while Jesus and Maggie rushed over and assisted the injured man.

It all happened so fast.

Within a blink of an eye, Abraham was pinned to his back by the other man who had his hands grasped tightly around his throat choking him. Rick had Nathan pushed down in the dirt a few metres away and the woman stood off to the side screaming at Rick to let him go.

You drew the handgun from your holster, flicking the safety off and holding it down in front of you at the ready before glancing over at Ricky and Dean who had their own hands on their gun holsters also ready but hesitant to use them.

'never aim your gun at someone or something unless you plan on pulling the trigger.'

That was what Rick and Daryl had drilled into them during all their firearm training and you were proud that they were actually listening and obeying the instructions.

"Boys, stay back." You ordered.

They both nodded and Ricky grabbed his little brother's arm and pulled him back a few steps away from the fight that was happening in front of them.

Daryl and Merle were quick to rush over and help Abraham. Merle practically tackled the guy off his best friend before the man landed on top of him and started to choke him instead, but Daryl grabbed his arm and bent it back on an unnatural angle until he heard a distinct cracking noise followed by the mans pained cry.

"Hey!" Glenn suddenly shouted.

You spun around to find Rick now lying flat on his back while Nathan leant over him with a knife against his throat.

Ah, shit.

"Stay back! Anybody who tries to stop me is killing my brother!" Nathan screamed, pressing the knife harder against your father's throat.

You took a few hesitant steps towards them, the Smith and Wesson held tightly in your hand. Nathan had his back facing you too focused on Glenn standing nearby.

Using his distraction to your advantage, you quietly snuck up behind him and jammed the barrel of your handgun into the back of his head. Nathans body instantly tensed at the touch of the cold metal.

"Yeah, you know what that is." You said, pressing the barrel firmer against his skull. "Drop the fucking knife. Now."

Nathan slowly tilted his head up towards you before Rick suddenly pulled out his own knife and jabbed the blade up into the side of Nathans neck.

You jumped back, a spray of blood hitting your face, but it was nothing compared to the downpour of deep crimson blood that fell over your father's lower face and neck.

Rick shoved Nathans now lifeless body off to the side before you held your free hand out and helped your father to his feet. He gave you a small appreciative nod before he glanced around taking in the scene around him to find Merle leaning over Abraham while Daryl had his gun aimed at the man with the broken arm.

Sometime during the fight, the civilians of Hilltop had gathered around and watched on in horror, all staring at Rick with wide terrified eyes. The white fur collar of his jacket was stained bright red and trickled down his front covering his shirt the same colour. It was quite a scene.

"What?" Rick questioned staring right back at the shocked civilians.

"Nathan! You killed him!" The man with the broken arm shouted from where he was lying on the ground.

"He tried to kill Gregory, then me-"

Rick didn't get to finish his sentence before the woman marched over and punched him across the face. You took a step forward about to punch her back, but Michonne body slammed her to the ground instead.

"Don't." Michonne warned sternly, glaring down at the woman who was laying on her ass in the dirt.

"Drop it now!" One of the Hilltop guards shouted.

A group of guards suddenly rushed forward with their long spears pointed to you all.

"Back up." You ordered, raising your handgun in their direction, Rick quickly drawing his Colt and doing the same.

Suddenly, Ricky and Dean were by your side backing you up with their own handguns drawn too. There fingers were resting on the frames of their guns and not the triggers and you would have told them you were proud if you weren't in the middle of a standoff.

"Everyone, this is over!" Jesus shouted, rushing between you all with his hands raised. "It's over. Ethan was our friend, but let's not pretend he was anything more than a coward who attacked us. He did this. And these people stopped him."

The guards reluctantly lowered their spears, so you holstered your gun and glanced over at Jesus who met your eyes hesitantly.

"You need to know that things aren't as simple as they might seem. Just give me some time." He simply responded and you nodded.

You assisted Doctor Carson with patching Gregory up while the others spoke with Jesus back in Barrington House. Ricky and Dean remained with you wanting to help where they could, and you didn't want to let them out of your sight after what just happened.

A bunch of stitches and painkillers later, Gregory was going to be okay.

He was still as annoying as ever and seemed in capable of saying the words, thank you. But he would survive.

Between Rick, Maggie, Jesus and Gregory they managed to come to an agreement. Half of Hilltops food, supplies, medicines, everything and in return, you would kill Negan and wipeout the Saviours for them.

"Boys give ya mother a hand with the crate." Daryl ordered pointing to the crate of potatoes you were currently carrying towards the RV.

You glared over your shoulder at Daryl but knew he was only trying to look out for you.

The two of you had been through the whole pregnancy thing twice now and Daryl knew you could handle yourself perfectly fine. He used to be super overprotective and would hover a lot when you were pregnant with Ricky and Dean, and although he was still protective, he didn't hover as much which you were grateful for.

The boys took the crate of potatoes without any complaints and carried it together to the RV while the others all loaded the vehicle up with various other supplies that the people of Hilltop had given.

"Hey, Y/N?" Jesus suddenly called out, jogging over to you.

"What's up?" You asked turning to face him.

"Doctor Carson used to be an obstetrician before the world ended. He has access to an ultrasound machine." Jesus said quietly once he reached your side.

You blinked staring blankly at him, "what?"

"I just figured you and Daryl would want to check on the baby. Maggie and Glenn just did with theirs and-"

"The baby?" You asked in shock, your hand subconsciously resting over the bump hidden beneath your jacket. "I-I'm not... there is no... what?"

Jesus smiled softly, "I saw the positive test on your nightstand."

"I'm sorry?" You said thinking you must have heard him wrong before realisation hit you like a truck. "That's why our door was ajar that morning."

"I am sorry about that by the way. I didn't mean to intrude on you, but I was looking for Rick. I'm not like some creep watching people sleep. I went into your room and realised it was you and Daryl and then I left. Oh, wow, that does sound creepy. You can hit me if you want, I think I deserve it."

You chuckled, "I'm not going to hit you. Maybe don't repeat that information to Daryl though because he would."

"Noted."

"Also, please don't tell the others that I'm pregnant. We're trying to keep it a secret, at least for a little while."

Jesus nodded, "I kinda figured that with the puffy jacket and the fact that Maggie never mentioned it."

"Is it that obvious?" You asked, looking down at your jacket.

"No." He smiled shaking his head. "I doubt the others suspect anything. And your secret is safe with me. I promise."

After managing to sneak away from the others and ask Merle to watch the boys, you and Daryl found yourselves in the medical trailer with Doctor Carson staring at an ultrasound machine.

"And that there... is your baby." Carson explained pointing to the small bean like shape in the centre of the screen.

Daryl's hand squeezed yours. Neither of you able to look away from the screen while you listened to the strong heartbeat of your unborn baby.

It was real. You really were going to have another baby.

Holy shit.

Tears burned in the back of your eyes while Doctor Carson shifted the transducer over your baby bump getting a clearer image of the baby.

"Is it healthy?" Daryl asked breaking the silence in the trailer.

Carson nodded, "perfectly healthy."

You let out a shaky sigh of relief as a silent tear escaped your eye which you were going to blame on your stupid hormones.

"I'd say you're about four months along, maybe five." Carson began to explain causing your eyes to snap away from the screen to stare at the doctor in shock.

"I... I was pregnant when I got shot?" You asked looking down at the pink scar on your shoulder.

"This?" Carson asked, following your line of sight and pointing at the scar as you nodded. "Well, whoever shot you, shot you in the best possible place. If they aimed lower, we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"Jesus Christ." Daryl swore softly under his breath.

"Five months." You whispered to yourself in disbelief. "We're not going to be able to hide this much longer." You added glancing over at Daryl.

His blue eyes met yours and the corners of his lips twitched up into that small smile you never got sick of seeing.

"Merle is pretty stupid. Could probably hide it from him for a while." He commented causing you to snort in amusement.

"Here." Carson suddenly said holding out a small photo of the ultrasound image that you hadn't realised he had printed or had the resources to even do so.

"Thank you, Doctor." You said sincerely taking the small photo.

He smiled, "if you guys ever need anything, you know where to find me."

Carson wiped off the gel from your stomach before you stood up from the bed and threw your jacket back on covering the bump perfectly just as someone knocked on the front door.

"Y/N? Daryl? You in there?" Your fathers voice shouted from outside.

Hastily, you handed Daryl the ultrasound photo which he tucked into the pocket of his vest before you spun around and opened the nearest cabinet and pretended to look through the medicines while Doctor Carson quickly unplugged the ultrasound machine catching on to the secret.

A second later the door opened, and Rick stepped inside frowning in confusion.

"What are you guys doing?"

"Carson was just showing me some medical stuff. He's a good doctor. I'm learning a lot from him." You answered a little too quickly before closing the cabinet and turning to face your father.

Rick stared at you for a moment before nodding, "that's good to hear. You both ready to go?"

"Yeah. Thanks Doctor." You said, glancing over at the other man who smiled softly with a small nod.

"Anytime."

During the drive back to Alexandria, Maggie and Glenn showed you all her own ultrasound photo and you fought the urge to show her yours.

This was her moment. You weren't about to step on it and take away her attention. This was her first and it was your third. You were fine with keeping it a secret for a while, Maggie deserved it.

After unloading the food and supplies from the RV at Alexandria, Rick held a meeting with the whole community in the church and told them everything.

The idea of finding Negan and the Saviours and killing them for Hilltop had divided Alexandria. Some thought it was a great idea, others were totally against it.

In the end, it was decided though.

The Saviours were stationed near a satellite, and you were going to sneak in during the night and take them all out. But that plan didn't sit right with you.

Yes, Alexandria needed the supplies from Hilltop, but at the same time, these Saviours hadn't done anything to Alexandria, and you were just going to waltz in and kill them in their sleep. That didn't feel right.

Sure, the ones Daryl, Merle and Abraham crossed paths with on the road a few months ago were bad. They were going to kill them, but Daryl had killed them first. That was it. That was the end of it. And now you were just going to butcher the rest of them?

"We have to do it. We have to come for them before they come for us." Rick insisted, looking at you through the bathroom mirror while he brushed his teeth. "They found Hilltop and look what happened. It's only a matter of time before they find Alexandria."

You sighed leaning against the doorframe meeting your fathers gaze through the mirror with a small nod.

He was right.

You hated that he was right.

"We need the supplies from Hilltop and-"

Whatever Rick was going to say next died in his throat when he spotted something inside the small bathroom trash can. His toothbrush slipped from his fingers hitting the porcelain sink with a loud clink before he reached down and grabbed something.

"Shit." He hissed under his breath staring down at the item in his hand that you couldn't quite see.

"What's wrong?"

"It's the end of the world, I didn't think I would have to deal with this." Rick muttered shaking his head before holding up a positive pregnancy test and your stomach dropped. "I've had the talk with Carl. He should know better. I can't believe this."

Rick pinched the bridge of his nose and sucked in a deep breath while you stood there utterly speechless. He suddenly turned around and you only just managed to step out the way as he stormed out the door heading straight for your brother's bedroom down the corridor.

Oh, shit.

You spun around and rushed in the opposite direction to your own bedroom to find Daryl throwing off his vest and unbuttoning his sleeveless shirt across the room. You glanced over to the nightstand where you had last seen the pregnancy test you took, but it was gone.

"Where's the test?" You asked pointing to the empty nightstand.

Daryl turned around in confusion and glanced to where you were pointing.

"I threw it in the trash."

"The bathroom trash can?"

He nodded.

Damnit.

Rick was no doubt reading Carl the riot act about safe sex and teen pregnancy right now, but Carl wasn't even the one responsible for the test. It was you.

You felt like you were 16 years old again about to get busted by your father for doing something wrong.

A part of you wanted to just close the bedroom door and forget about it. Let Carl take the blame for it and see what happens. But you couldn't do that. Rick would find out the truth sooner or later, it was better to come clean now and save Carl getting yelled at.

"What's the matter?" Daryl asked noticing your internal debate.

"So, uh, my dad might have found the positive test, and he may or may think it's Carl and that he got Enid pregnant, and he may or may not be yelling at him as we speak." You rambled anxiously.

Daryl's face visibly paled at your words, and you smiled nervously at him.

"He wasn't happy when he thought it was Carls... I don't think he will be too pleased about finding out it's ours either." You admitted, resting your hand over the bump beneath your jacket.

"We have two kids already. He can't get that mad, can he?"

"He wasn't around back then. This is new and... and, I don't know how he will react."

Daryl bit his thumb nail nervously, "Rick is gonna fuckin' kill me."

You sighed taking in a deep breath trying to calm yourself which was ridiculous because Daryl was right. You already had two kids and you were an adult. Why were you so nervous about this?

"I'm gonna go tell him. You should probably stay here."

Daryl nodded seeming relieved with that idea before he walked across the room and pulled you into a gentle hug. You wrapped your arms around his bare back hugging him tightly. Your fingers traced over the ridged scars across his shoulder blade as he placed a tender kiss to the top of your head.

Reluctanly, you pulled away and immediately wanted to hug him again at the loss of warm contact but knew you had to go and save your brother from Rick's lecture about teen pregnancy.

Daryl gave you a small reassuring smile before you took in a deep breath and walked out the room heading down the corridor already able to hear the shouting coming from your brother's bedroom.

"What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Don't. Don't play dumb with me."

"I'm not playing!"

"So, you're telling me that you didn't knock up Enid?"

"What?! NO! What the fuck?!"

You paused in front of the closed door listening to the commotion coming from inside and hesitated, unsure if you wanted to go in there and confess because Rick did not sound happy.

"Then why did I find this in the bathroom?"

"I've never seen that before."

"Carl. Don't lie to me-"

"He's not lying." You interrupted pushing open the door to find Carl sitting on his bed with a confused expression while Rick stood at the foot of his bed holding up the pregnancy test.

Oh, this was a bad idea.

They both turned towards you and the anger in your father's expression turned to confusion whereas a sneaky smirk began to spread across Carl's face having already figured it out.

"What?" Rick asked frowning as he looked between you and Carl.

You remained silent waiting for him to figure it out and for an ex-cop, he was awfully slow at putting the pieces together.

"You were worrying about the wrong child dad." Carl snorted in amusement.

Ricks brows furrowed in utter confusion as he stared at his son before looking down at the positive test in his hand. The gears were turning and grinding in his head, and you could pin-point the exact moment he figured it out.

His head suddenly snapped back over in your direction. His blue eyes widening into saucers as he stared at you in utter disbelief.

"No." He shook his head in denial. "You're not pregnant. You can't be."

"Dad-"

"No." He snapped, cutting you off. "You should've known better. You should've... I can't have this conversation, not with you."

Rick marched straight past you and out the bedroom before you could even process what he had just said. You stood in the middle of your brother's room and flinched when the door slammed shut behind you.

To say that this conversation did not go how you intended would be the understatement of the century.

"Damnit." You whispered under your breath turning to go after him.

"I'm gonna be an uncle again?" Carl questioned and you paused by the door.

"Yeah." You glanced over your shoulder. "Yeah, you are."

"Cool." He smiled happily. "Dad's an idiot by the way. I'm happy for you."

Your heart fluttered at your brothers' words. A small swell of relief washing over you at his approval before you turned and walked out the room in search of your father.

After looking in practically every room of the two-story building and nearly giving up, you eventually found your father sitting outside on the porch steps staring up at the stars shimmering in the sky above him.

You stood in the doorway for a moment debating what to do.

In that moment you felt like a child again. A child scared to talk to her father afraid of what he would say or think.

You were an adult.

You were a mother of two, soon to be three, but right now, you felt like a 12-year-old little girl standing in the doorway of her parents' bedroom about to admit your biggest secret.

"Dad." You said announcing your presence, but he didn't turn to look at you, he didn't even move.

"What were you thinking, Y/N?"

The disappointment was strong in his tone and that hurt more than anything.

"What was I thinking? I was thinking my father might actually be happy for me." You admitted, glaring at the back of his head. "Guess that was too much to ask."

"The world is dangerous now. You-you can't have a baby in this world, it's a death sentence. There are walkers, there are bad guys out there wanting to hurt people. What if there's a complication? What if-"

"Did you say all this to Maggie too?" You asked already knowing the answer.

"No."

"So why the hell are you saying it to me? I mean, you're raising a baby in the apocalypse. Judith has turned out just fine-"

"What about Lori?"

Oh. Oh.

"I lost your mother due to childbirth. She's gone. She's dead because she fell pregnant in this new world, and I can't- I won't lose you too." His voice broke and he buried his face into his hands.

"You're not gonna lose me." You insisted, walking over and sitting down on the porch step beside him.

Rick lifted his head and looked over at you, his blue eyes shimmering with unshed tears under the moonlight.

"I could." He said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"You won't." You repeated sternly.

Rick let out a shaky exhale but didn't say anything else as he reached over and rested his hand on your knee. You placed your own hand atop of his while you both sat in silence staring out at the stars above Alexandria.

"Does Daryl know?"

"Yeah."

Rick nodded and looked like he wanted to add to that topic but kept his mouth shut.

"What is it?" You prompted.

"You're pregnant which means the two of you have..." He trailed off letting go of your knee and making a vague hand gesture before sighing. "The thought of the two of you having sex... Jesus, I'm too sober for this conversation."

You chuckled softly, "Dad, come on. We have two kids already. That's gotta tell you that something kinda happened at least twice before."

"I know. I know. it's just... you're my little girl and he's... he's Daryl."

"I'm not a little girl anymore." You corrected. "I'm an adult and he's my husband, remember?"

"You'll always be my little girl."

Rick draped his arm around your shoulders and gently pulled you into his side. You smiled resting your head against his shoulder while fighting back tears you refused to acknowledge.

This was all you wanted when you were younger. You had wanted... no, you had needed your father's reassurance and comfort during your first pregnancy. You were young, and scared, and you didn't know what you were doing. You needed your dad.

Daryl and Merle were great, but you needed your father, and he wasn't there.

He was here now though, and you soaked up this moment while it lasted.

"I'm sorry I wasn't there for you the first times." Rick eventually said like he could somehow read your mind. "I... I saw you on the news."

You pulled away from him and wiped the tears from your eyes in confusion.

"What are you talking about?"

"The flood. You were on the news."

*Before*

It was a quiet afternoon shift at the King County Police Station.

Rick used the downtime to catch up on the stack of paperwork piled up on the side of his desk, however after nearly two hours, he had barely made a dent in it.

Shane's desk opposite him had a larger stack of paperwork that had been untouched all shift. His best friend had spent the last couple of hours in the breakroom watching the news that had been broadcasting the flash flood happening down south.

Rick had seen it on the news last night and heard about it over the radio on his drive to work. The reporters were saying that it was a once in a lifetime event that had damaged hundreds of homes and threatened to destroy so many more. It was horrible and he was thankful that nothing like that ever happened in his hometown.

The news was filled with reports of people stranded on roofs or families stuck in boats with their pets and the little belongings they had managed to salvage.

He could hear the news reporter speaking on the television in the breakroom. The guys have had the volume on maximum since the Lieutenant left for the day nearly 40 minutes ago. Rick tried to drain out the noise and focus on the report in front of him.

'Emergency services are still out in the water and sky rescuing people trapped in the flood zone.'

'The rain is reported to slow tomorrow afternoon, but that is little reassurance to those that have already lost everything.'

'Death toll is up to five with many more people reported missing.'

Unable to focus on the report on his desk while the news was being broadcast loud enough for all of King County to hear, he put the paper down and wandered into the breakroom.

Shane, Leon and McCarthy were all sitting around the table staring up at the screen invested in the news while he turned away and began making a coffee.

'A young couple trapped on the roof of their trailer for over 48 hours have just been rescued by volunteers.' The reporter on the television declared. 'And you won't believe this folks, the woman gave birth while stranded on the roof. It is believed to be the couple's first baby, and although they are a little shook up, the mother and baby are both doing well.'

"Uh, Rick?" Shane called out from across the room hesitantly.

"Yeah?"

"You seeing this?"

"What? The flood? Yeah, it's been on the news all day." Rick said over his shoulder while stirring the milk into his coffee.

"No. Look!" Shane pointed at the screen and Rick grabbed his coffee before looking up at the television. "Isn't that-"

"Y/N." He gasped, the mug of coffee slipping from his fingers and shattering against the tiles of the floor loudly.

"Jesus, Grimes. What the hell?!" Leon exclaimed looking at the mess of coffee and porcelain shards.

Rick didn't hear his coworker's words, nor did he notice the coffee covering his boots as he stared at the television across the room in utter disbelief because there on the screen was his daughter.

The footage was from a news helicopter zoomed in. It was a little blurry but there was no mistaking the young girl sitting on top of a trailer. It was his daughter.

It was Y/N.

Holy shit.

The flood water flowed past the trailer at a rapid pace only a metre lower than the roof while she sat clutching a newborn baby to her chest. There was a man standing nearby waving over a rescue boat, but Rick couldn't tear his eyes away from his daughter.

"Congratulations, grandpa." Shane responded, glancing over at him.

"I-I didn't even know... I haven't heard from her since she... since Lori kicked her out." Rick admitted, guilt washing over him. "Wait. Wait. They said she was okay, right? She gave birth on the roof. Holy shit, is she okay? Are her and the baby okay?"

Shane stood up from his chair and walked over to him dodging the coffee and broken mug.

"Breathe. Rick, brother, just breathe. The reporter said they were both fine, man. They're fine." Shane reassured, patting his shoulder.

*Present*

"You saw me on the news?" You asked in surprise thinking back to those terrifying 48 hours stranded on the roof of the trailer you shared with Daryl when you were younger.

Rick nodded but didn't say anything further as the two of you sat on the steps in silence.

Your father had known about it. He knew and he never... he never said anything... he never... wait...

"Our trailer got wrecked during the flood." You began to say because you needed to find out the truth. "Unfixable the workers told us. A week later there was an envelope in the mail addressed to Miss Grimes, despite the fact that I was a Dixon by then. Do you know what was in that envelope?"

You tilted your head towards Rick, but he was staring down at his hands resting on his knees avoiding your gaze which was enough of an answer. He knew exactly what was in that envelope.

"It was filled with money. Care to guess how much?" You asked, but he still refused to look at you. "Over $35,000 in cold hard cash. For years, I couldn't figure out who it was from. Daryl or Merle didn't know either. It helped pay for all the things we lost in the flood. I was able to buy baby supplies for Ricky, it even helped with a house loan. But I could never figure out who it was from until now."

Rick sighed, fiddling with his watch still refusing to look at you.

"Shall you say it, or should I?" You prompted.

He reluctantly lifted his head, and those bright blue eyes met your hazel ones.

"I sent the money." He confirmed.

"Why?"

"Because I was a coward. I wanted to see you but... I couldn't. Lori wouldn't allow it and... well, I kinda figured you wanted nothing to do with me after everything that went down." He admitted, looking back down at his hands in shame. "I couldn't get money out the bank without Lori knowing, so I got Shane to sell a few of my father's tractors and farming machinery in his name. He then withdrew the money in cash and gave it to me. I wanted to help you. You probably didn't want my help, so I kept it anonymous."

He was right.

Back then you used to be so angry. You hated Lori with a burning passion after what she did and a small part of you hated your father for taking her side too. But that was all in the past. It was water under the bridge because after everything that has happened since then, you have forgiven him. For all of it.

"Thank you." Was all you could say.

Rick's head snapped back in your direction with a look of surprise in his eyes. You weren't sure what he had been expecting but it clearly wasn't those two words.

"Kiddo, I'm sorry." Rick whispered but you shook your head before he could say anything further.

"Don't." You said cutting him off with a shake of your head. "That's all in the past now. And we needed that money more than you'll ever know, so thank you."

Rick looked like he wanted to say more on that topic but seemed to think better of it because he simply closed his mouth and gave a small nod instead.

"I can't believe Ricky was born during a flood." Your father said after a few minutes of silence.

"Dean was born during a hurricane." Daryl's voice suddenly said, and you both glanced over your shoulders to find him walking out the front door.

"What?" Rick asked in shock.

"We were stuck under a bridge while the hurricane passed. Didn't make it to the hospital." Daryl simply explained causing Rick to look back over at you with his jaw dropped.

"Gave birth in the truck. It was a step up from the roof of a trailer." You joked and your father chuckled in pure disbelief.

Daryl leant against the porch railing lighting a cigarette while you and Rick remained sitting on the steps staring up at the bright stars shining in the sky above you in comfortable silence.

Merle and Abraham's laughter boomed from inside the house behind you, the faint sound of people chattering in the background filling your ears. You could see the faint silhouette of Rosita standing on the watch platform down the street overlooking the walls of Alexandria with a rifle slung over her shoulder.

It was a peaceful night.

Calm before the storm.

Tomorrow night you were infiltrating the Saviours compound and taking them out.

"About tomorrow night..." Your father began to say and now you were seriously starting to wonder if he could read your mind or not. "I don't want you coming."

Yeah, you should have seen those words coming from a mile away.

"Excuse me?" You asked, looking over at your father.

"I need you to stay here-"

"No. I heard you perfectly fine the first time, I was just giving you a chance to change your mind."

"Y/N-"

"I'm coming with you guys. You need all the help you can get." You argued, but your father shook his head.

"I don't care. You are not coming."

"You think you can tell me what to do?" You snapped, abruptly standing up from the step before you began to pace the porch. "I'm not a kid. You can't give me orders."

"The hell I can't." Rick responded, looking up at you.

Daryl remained silent watching the two of you argue while he took a deep drag of his cigarette.

"Did you tell Maggie she couldn't come because she's pregnant too?" You questioned already knowing the answer.

"No, but-"

"I'm going."

"No."

"Yes."

"You're pregnant, you can't-"

"She can." Daryl spoke up finally deciding to join the argument.

Ricks head snapped in Daryl's direction so fast you thought he might have given himself whiplash as he stared at your husband with a look of betrayal.

"She can take care of herself, man." Daryl continued to say. "I think she's proven that already."

"How... how can you even say that? She's carrying your child, and you want to risk them getting hurt out there?" Rick asked unable to wrap his mind around the fact that Daryl was actually taking your side during this argument.

"Ya weren't there during the other pregnancies. I was. I know she can handle herself."

A look of guilt flashed across your father's face at those words before he quickly schooled his expression and pinched the bridge of his nose with a heavy sigh.

Daryl pushed himself from the porch railing and walked over to you folding his arms across his chest almost defensively and you mimicked his action and stared down at your father.

"It's her call, man." Daryl simply stated before he glanced over at you. "What do ya wanna do?"

"I'm going with you." You answered without hesitation.

Rick looked between you and Daryl with an unreadable expression. The two of you were a united front and your father knew there was no way he could talk you out of it. You were stubborn and that trait came straight from himself.

"Okay." He reluctantly agreed. "I still don't like it, but okay."

PART 7

MASTERLIST pinned to profile.

Commissions open! Link in bio & DM for enquiries

A/N: It's been a while, but I hope you all enjoyed this new part and Part 7 will be up soon. Until then, stay safe everyone and have a great day xx

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd #norman reedus #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #the walking dead fanfiction #the walking dead fanfic #rick grimes

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mikachacha · 6 months

Text

𝚃𝚛𝚊𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛 (𝙱𝚊𝚍𝚊 𝙻𝚎𝚎 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚍𝚢)

Synopsis: You know that Bada is already done with you and your relationship but you tried to hide your pain just to keep her. You tried to fool yourself but your world came crashing down when you accidentally saw a text from Redy, Bada's ex girlfriend.

Warnings: language, mentions of cheating, some manipulation and gas lighting and this will be heavy so be advised 🥹🫶

(A/N: So uhhh please don't murder me after this one gets posted 😭 i cried making this but i like torturing myself and apparently other people so here it is 🤧)

(Edit: due to popular demand, there's a part two for this ❤)

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝙾𝚗𝚎 | 𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝚃𝚠𝚘

🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸💮🌸

You noticed a lot of changes between yours and Bada's relationship the past few weeks. She seemed more distance, always on her phone and has little to no time for you. Whenever you try and confront her about it, she'll just say that she's busy with work and you accepted that. Not until you received a call from Lusher asking where Bada is since she's rarely showing up at practices which confused you a lot. Bada always says that she's going to practice with the girls but apparently, she isn't. You couldn't answer Lusher and just ended the call, your tears streaming down your face as a sense of dread washed over you. Could it be that Bada is seeing someone else?

Hours felt like years as you waited for Bada to come home, you sat there, feeling so numb from all the thoughts racing through your head. When she finally came home, she looked at you, confused as you looked angry.

"Baby what's wrong? You look upset.." Bada asked and tried to kiss you but you pushed her away. You wanted to confront her, you wanted the truth out of her so you can ease your mind.

"Where have you been? Lusher called me earlier and she told me that you weren't coming to practices with them so where the hell have you been, Bada?!" you asked and she was taken aback by your outburst before wrapping her arms around you and placing kisses anywhere she could.

"Oh baby.. You're overthinking again.. I was actually with an upcoming girl group, I was chosen as their choreographer for their debut so I wasn't able to practice with Lusher and the girls.. Please don't be mad at me.." she says and you knew it was all a lie but you accepted it because you couldn't imagine yourself without Bada. You love her way too much and the thought of her leaving you scared you more than anything. So you let this one slide and hoped that your gut feeling is wrong with this.

Few days has passed and Bada has made it up to you, she has been incredibly sweet and made you feel so loved. She took some time off so she could stay home with you which made you happy and almost forget about all the pain you felt the past few weeks when she barely had time for you. You were awoken by Bada's alarm setting off but your girlfriend was still fast sleep so you reached out to her phone to turn it off. You squinted your eyes a bit to adjust to the phone's brightness but when you did, your blood ran cold. You saw a message from Redy, Bada's ex girlfriend.

“I love you and I miss you already 🥺” you read the text and your heart broke to pieces as it was confirmed to you that Bada is really seeing someone and not just anyone, it was Redy whom she claimed is just friends with her now.

You got out of bed and straight to the bathroom where you finally broke down crying. How can you be so dumb to believe that Bada and Redy just became best friends overnight? Now you feel stupid for sticking with Bada and believing all the lies she said to you even when the evidence of her being untrue is right there, clear as day.

Bada woke up when she heard sniffles and sobs from the bathroom then she saw her phone on your side of bed. Panic and dread washed over her, cursing at how stupid she is for not noticing her alarm and hiding Redy's text.

"Shit.. Y/N? Baby?" Bada knocked on the bathroom and tried to open it but you locked it, not ready to see her any time soon or hear her lame ass explanation.

"Leave, Bada! You and I are over! Go back crawling to your fucking friend!" you screamed and Bada knew that it really was over for you and her. With a sigh, she began packing her belongings and left your apartment while you sat in your bathroom, crying your eyes out.

Not even two weeks has passed when you heard that Bada and Redy are officially back together and it felt like a stab to the heart. It didn't even took her a month to move on from you, well she was moving on before you called it quits anyways, you're just way too stupid to not notice it. It pissed you off, it made you sick to the stomach that Bada's so proud to be with Redy but it took her months to admit that you guys are dating. You sighed, closing your eyes as you could feel sorrow wash over you again, as it had since the day Bada walked out of your life. She's so happy now, and you doubt that she'll ever be sorry for all the pain she made you feel.

#bada lee #bada lee x reader #swf2 #swf2 x reader #bada x reader

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igotanidea · 1 year

Text

The fear: Jason Todd x fem!reader part 1

"I'm calling Y/N."

"I don't need her here!"

"We both know you do."

"I don't want her here!"

"Jason." Dick was caught in the middle between getting angry at his brother and being annoyed with his stubornness.

"Do not call her!" he yelled in frustration "I can handle myself. There's no need to."

12 hours earlier

In fact, nothing happened. It was just a regular day, regular patrol, regular criminals. Nothing unusual. Red Hood was running around the crime alley making sure no kids or working girls were harassed by any scumbags. Quite peaceful night to be honest. Until one particular bat decided to come by Red's territory. It was official business. Apparently, Scarecrow escaped from Arkham, again, and was last saw by Tim, crossing the Crime Alley's border. Jason was not happy with Dick appearance (since obviously Tim decided to stay behind, not ready to face his angered resurected brother) and instead of working together to capture Crane before any damage was done they started bantering. Who would have thought, right?

"Cut it off, you two! Something's happening there!" Tim yelled through the comms trying his best to take hold of the situation

"The only thing that is happening is Dick getting his ass handed to him!"

"I'm serious, Red. There's some.... smoke? Oh shit."

"Oh, shit!" Dick repeated in sudden realisation "where is it, Red Robin? Where do we go? What do you see?"

"It's coming from the building on your right side, Nightwing. And it's spreading really fast."

"We're on it." Dick assured "Hood?"

"I am not working with you. Not now, not ever. Get the hell out of..."

"Oh, screw you." Dick hissed and moved to the edge of the rooftop in order to swinging away. Jay could have stayed there for what he cared, but Dick was not going to be passive. Crime Alley or not, there were still people exposed to Crane's fear toxin. "You know, I was really hoping you grew up just a bit."

"Wait. I'll help you. But only because of the kids living in that building. They.... they don't deserve any of that toxin to reach them."

"Good choice, Red."

However, despite boys best efforts they could not fully eliminate the threat and when they started their rescue operation some children were already crying in fears and terrors their poisoned brains produced.

"Janet." Red turned towards one of the working girls, who usually took care of some of the kids "is everyone out?"

"No. We couldn't find Jimmy, he wouldn't come out. Red, what is happening?"

"Where did you last see him? On which floor?"

"Third, but I still don't...."

"Watch them, Wing. I'll get the kid!" Jason took of running. He knew Jimmy Thomas. He was barely 8 years old and has already been through too much trauma. To tell the truth, Jay saw too much of himself from the past in this boy and made it his personal mission to protect him. And now, he was failing at that.

"What are you...?" he was not even listeing to whatever his older brother was saying when he burst to the building, heading towards the third floor in frantic search for the boy.

"Jimmy?! Jimmy where are you?!"

"I'm scared. Please, don't hurt me....." trembling voice came just from around the corner and Jay's heart clenched.

"Fuck! Jimmy, hey, you're good, kiddo, you're good" he grabbed that little broken figure in his arms, cradling him into his chest, covering boy's face so he wouldn;t inhale any more of the gas. "I'll get you to safety, all right? It's gonna be all good, I promise."

"Red? Are you good there? Did you find the boy?" Dick spoke throught the comms

"Yeah, I got him. I'm taking him out right now. Did you call for help?"

"I though you didn't want to work with the bats...."

"MEDICAL help, you idiot. Of course I don't want more of you."

"I don't think any doctor will help with Crane's toxic. You know it just have to wear off."

"Yeah, thanks for the clarification, replacement. And you keep wondering why I don't want you around."

Funny thing about Jason Todd was that while he was always ready to kill and kick asses, full of anger and tended to be harsh, he would NEVER let anyone hurt a kid. That was exactly why his hotheadedness took over when he rushed for the rescue and didn't spend one second wondering how the fear gas will affect him.

And he was about to find out.

edit: part 2 is up!

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dindjiarin · 1 year

Text

Shelter - Joel Miller x Reader (Part Two)

Your easy emotions wreak havoc on Joel, and so do the people you two encounter... good thing you're there to help him.

In which our intrepid hero deals with some shit. And some 👉👌.

Masterlist ->

AO3 Link♥

RATING: Explicit. SEXUAL CONTENT: Consensual P in V, Choking Kink, Attempted Rape (not by Joel). VIOLENCE: Gore, Blood, Canon-Typical Violence, Death of an Animal (Deer Hunting).

TAGS: Joel Being Absolutely Whipped and Filthy-Mouthed, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Hurt/Comfort, Age Gap.

WC: 13k

As Joel steps through the doorway of the mom-and-pop furniture store, the glow of the gas lantern he’d found earlier is a beacon.

He rounds the edge of a gigantic, cheaply-made chest of drawers to see you asleep. The glow of the lantern casts amber light over your face. Your hair is strung across your cheek and Joel crushes a wild urge to crouch and brush it all away. He glances to the left and his heart stops for a moment when he realizes Ellie is sitting up, watching him.

“You found something,” she declares without hostility.

These girls’re too observant for me. Joel lets the silence hang for a moment before deciding how to reply.

“I’m gonna talk to your sister in the mornin'.”

“Yeah, I saw you talkin’ earlier,” she snickers, then levels him with a glare. “You better be careful. I’ve got no problem killing you myself.”

He doesn't grace that with a response.

“I notice everything. I like you, Joel, but I love my sister.” Ellie shrugs dramatically, “I’m just sayin’. I’m on her side if you pull some shit.”

“I’d expect nothin’ less, kid.” Joel’s voice strains as he lowers himself down onto the sleeping bag you’d laid out for him. He wishes you hadn’t.

Ellie shifts her attention back to her book (a new one you’d found and given to her called Nancy Drew) while Joel shuffles down into his bed.

Joel lets the faint lull of the ocean carry away his stress for the night. His eyes close but he feels the desire to look at you, just a couple of yards away. He denies the desire, squeezing his eyes tighter, and focuses instead on what he can hear. A page turns. The wind's howl over the building. The sound of your steady, peaceful breath traps his attention, and he soon drifts away.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“And how do you know it’s legitimate?” You press him.

Joel sets his hands on his hips. “I know my brother's writing.”

You chew your lip. Like Joel, the day is much colder than yesterday.

“That’s a long walk."

“That’s why I’m givin’ y’all the choice,” Joel explains. “Same deal as last time.”

Your eyes twinkle as you ask, “Ah. You’re only trying to hold up your end of the deal?”

But Joel’s desperate to keep himself from falling for your charm like he had the previous evening. Instead of rejoining with a witty comment, he simply says:

“Yeah.”

Taken slightly aback by his mood, you’re quiet. Then you turn to Ellie. ��What do you want to do? If you’d rather stay here, look around this area more…” you trail off, waiting for her opinion.

Ellie’s eyes dart to Joel before answering. “I mean, I’ve never seen that far north. And we should make Joel keep his promises.”

Joel can’t help but make a pfft noise at that.

“Do you want us to come with you?” You ask him point-blank. It’s that simple for you.

And he can’t answer that. Yes, he did; and no, he didn’t. Yes, he wants the two of you to come with him. But no, he didn’t need the weakness of his growing attachment to both of you. It isn’t that simple for him, and he bristles when you try to make it so.

He raises and lowers his shoulders in a half-hearted motion. “If you come, you can always leave, but if you stay here for now, you’ll prob’ly never find it.”

Your shoulders sag at the deflection, but you’re not surprised. It had been out of character for him to have gotten so close to you last night, so it should come as no surprise when he returns to his regular, shut-everyone-out attitude.

“Okay. Good point. Ellie, if you’re not interested in staying here, that’s all I care about.”

“It’s fucking nice here. It’s so cool. But I miss people. Decent, normal people.” Ellie cuts to the chase, and you ruffle the ends of her ponytail fondly. “All we got is Joel,” she digs at him with a sly look.

“You’re somethin’ else, kid,” Joel scoffs. “Alright, we’ll set out tomorrow. Spend today gathering supplies.”

“I’ll make a list,” you offer.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

That evening, as you say your goodbye to the ocean, you stand on a jetty hugging yourself. It’s the hour of sunset, and you’ve never seen a more beautiful one.

Sunbeams paint the clouds violet, gold, pink, and red. Some clouds in the distance are a heavy gray, pregnant with the storm that will come in the night. The sky behind is a deep blue. And, though none fall, you’re unembarrassed by the tears that well in your eyes.

Your parents never saw the sea. You may never see it again after tomorrow morning. Loss in the face of such grandeur feels more poignant.

Joel stands beside a sand dune, lost in thought once again. How do you maintain the capacity to feel so much and keep getting up every day? He’d spent the last eight years in a cloud of violence, alcohol, and occasionally something heavier. He couldn’t find it in him to care about himself half of the time, let alone a fucking sunset.

Frustrated at his fascination with you, he turns his back to finish preparing for the long walk to come.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Over a week later, the three of you cross the western edge of the state. The slog through the lowlands had been made easier by the discovery of a working pickup truck two days earlier. It had to have been used by someone recently, though no one had been at the rural home when you’d boosted it.

It was old, and the gas gauge perpetually stated it was on E, so Joel siphoned gas every two hours. Because of this, it was necessary to take the interstate or other, passable roads with vehicles laying around like miniature gas stations.

The days spent walking had been hell. There had been no breeze, and the weather had been so mild as to have the three of you sweating under your clothes. You’d had to remove everything but your jeans and your dirty tank top.

Joel hated that. He’d have fought the weather if he could.

He’d been outright rude to you several times. Cutting over you when you spoke, or intentionally asking Ellie a question that you should’ve been asked. Then, sometimes he would slip up. You caught him staring at you, your chest, or your hips. Each time he was caught, he’d withdraw sullenly until Ellie annoyed him with a terrible pun.

He was also caring.

Separately, and more than once, you and Ellie had woken up with his jacket draped over your sleeping form. He answered some of Ellie’s prying questions (“What did you do for work?” “Now or before?” “Both, I guess.” “I was a contractor. After it all went to shit, I transported… contraband.”) without much fuss.

He often kept watch with Ellie, telling her the odd short, humorous story from his distant past. He never told her about his family, nor details on his life after the outbreak.

The first time you'd woken up to Joel's heavy, pleasantly musky jacket across your body, it was like he had cursed you. Your eyes trailed him the entire day as his powerful stride pushed him forward, the lazy confidence of his hand resting on his gun. You watched his throat and the hook of his nose as he took a drink of water, unbelievably parched yourself.

Then he caught you. His eyes, unwilling to see what was flashing neon in your own, tore through you. He refused to give in, but daily he made it worse.

To the unending amusement of both of you, he even delivered the punchline to Ellie’s first joke of the day once. Unpredictable motherfucker, you frequently cursed at him in your mind.

Today, the atmosphere in the cab is stiff - at least between you and Joel - and no one had spoken in over an hour. You knew Joel wouldn’t be the one to break the silence, and you’re unsurprised by the one who does.

“Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?” Ellie asks.

At the odd question, you turn your body to look at her in the backseat, but she’s hidden behind her joke book. Oh, you realize. “Hmm, I don’t know. Why?”

“The answer is: ‘Because his wife died.’” Ellie lowers the book and frowns. “I don’t get it.”

Joel chokingly laughs. It’s so unexpected that you and Ellie stare at him for several seconds.

“He comes in a bottle.” Joel chuckles again and looks at you pointedly.

“Oh.” You cover your mouth and snicker. “Oh.” You sit back in your seat, your cheeks red.

“No, no! Don’t do that - what am I missing?” Ellie yells. She returns her eyes to the page as if the context will appear. Somehow, it does.

“Oh, my god. I get it. I wasn’t expecting a dirty joke; that’s the first one in here.” She muses.

“Thank fuck,” you comment.

The tension between you and Joel had been nearly unbearable, and the slips in his emotional unavailability were driving you insane. Avoiding thinking about… that… was the only way you’d survived being stuck in this enclosed space with him.

“There’s a whole section of them,” Ellie says with awe.

You whirl around to try and snatch the book from her, but she’s faster. She holds the book out of your reach, your seatbelt locking you in place.

“Ellie, give me that.”

“Why?”

“Let her keep it,” Joel interjects.

Ellie looks at the back of his head like he’d grown an extra one.

You ignore him. “Ellie, for fuck’s sake, at least skip the dirty jokes.” Your imploring eyes tell her what she needs to know: Don’t make this more awkward for me than it already is.

“Okay, okay, chill the hell out.” She rolls her eyes and sighs at you as only a teenager can. Then she motions at you, then Joel, then you again.

“I know,” you groan.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel’s an attractive driver. It’s an odd thing to think, but you can’t help it. He casually holds the wheel with his left hand while his right elbow braces on the center console. Occasionally his obscenely thick fingers stroke the scruff on his face. You wish he wouldn’t.

“Hey, we’re not far from that house with the chickens are we?” You observe as the rolling hills flow by.

“Think it’s about a half-hour that way,” Joel indicates out your window. His hand crosses into your personal space, flustering you. “I doubt the ones we left alive are alive anymore.”

“Yeah - no, I was just wondering. That was good meat, though. What a waste.” It had been so long since you’d had chicken, you’d forgotten how delicious it was.

The day you met him, Joel had killed a couple and cooked the meat that night and the next day. Unfortunately, you’d had no way to transport chicken - live or dead. It wasn’t lost on you, however, that Joel used the word “we” when he had been the one to kill, clean, and cook it.

Ellie breaks the silence again. “Hey, Joel.”

He hums questioningly.

“What’s your last name?”

He responds with automatic promptness, “Miller.”

Ellie contemplates. “Joel Miller. Sounds good, I like it.”

Joel Miller. It does sound good. Everything about him is so attractive, I hate it, you complain petulantly. Why couldn’t he have been ugly?

As the truck crests the hill, a huge valley opens up through the windshield. A loud boom! shudders through the car. Joel clamps onto the steering wheel with both hands, keeping control of the vehicle until the power steering gives out. Fish-tailing onto the shoulder and down into the grassy ditch, the car comes to a jolting stop halfway down the mountain.

“Ellie, y’okay?” Joel spits out the question faster than your mouth opens to ask the same thing.

“Yeah. What the fuck, man?” It’s rhetorical.

Joel’s alarmed eyes rake you over, “You alright?”

“I’m good. What happened?”

“Think the tire blew.” He slams his hand on the steering wheel, “Fuck.”

“Great.” You peek out the window and notice the sun’s position. “It’s going down. I don’t think we should stay in the car tonight.”

Joel grunts in agreement and ducks to look in the rearview mirror. “Those rocks should be safe.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

In the blackness of the evening, the three of you lay in a triangle formation upon a large shelf of a limestone cliff. The cliff vaults up to your right, and down to the left. The view of the valley had been beautiful during sunset, but for once you had been too stressed to notice.

You lie on your sleeping bag, Ellie’s head at your foot. Joel lies with his head near yours. Concentrating on either fixing the car or abandoning it consumes you to a point that you don’t notice when Ellie starts snoring. Nor do you notice when Joel moves his bag closer to you.

“What're you thinkin' about?”

“Joel- what the hell," startled from your spiral of anxiety, you jump. "Sorry. Just lost in thought.”

“I can tell.”

Your head turns sharply, and you squint at him in the darkness, trying to determine what his goal was. “What’s that mean?”

“You didn’t say anything about the view from up here. Just wonderin' what you’re worryin’ about.”

Oh. He noticed that? You blush, thankful for the cover of night.

“Oh. Well,” you fully roll over to face him. His head is propped on his hand, and his silhouette is all you can see. “I’m worried about walking so far. Or trying to find a tire. I’m pissed off about the pain in my arm. I’m worried about Ellie.” Your voice fades to a mutter, “I’m worried about- about you.”

It’s quiet for a beat too long. “Why about me?”

“I -” you’re not sure how to say what you want, so you settle for the basics. “You’re unpredictable. I feel like one day we’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. And even though Ellie and I were on our own for so long before, it’s been…” you look for an appropriate word, “It’s been helpful having another adult I can count on.”

And here it was for Joel. He wasn’t stupid. You’re skirting around telling him that both you and Ellie have grown fond of him. He didn’t want that.

No, that isn’t true. The truth is he shouldn’t want it.

Joel doesn’t answer.

The natural sounds of the night replace your conversation. It’s so still, so quiet. You lay your head down and curl into a comfortable position facing the man.

You hadn’t expected him to respond. He’d accidentally shown you cracks in his armor by parenting Ellie occasionally, helping with a task that should’ve been yours or Ellie’s alone like keeping watch or preparing dinner, and laughing.

For fuck’s sake, laughing with us - but still he kept the armor.

Sleep has taken you when Joel quickly pushes a lock of hair over your shoulder and states,

“‘m not goin' anywhere.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The sound of rubber rolling on pavement is the background to Ellie’s unceasing chatter. The bright sunshine feeds her mood as though she survives on photosynthesis. She’d left her joke book at the campsite, but she jabbers on about nothing and everything. After trekking for an hour, you managed to find a tire that Joel agreed should fit the truck. If it could shorten your cross-country trip by even a day, it was worth the effort.

Joel hunches over the tire, rolling it back up the highway. His backpack and gun sway with his movements. The awkward angle and the added weight of his gear have his brow dripping sweat.

“So, what if it’s really snowy up there? Will we get frostbite? What if we find a moose - do those still exist? Aren’t they like the size of a house?” Ellie’s exuberance couldn’t be stopped.

“Joel, please…” you murmur as you jog up alongside him. You slip your fingers under the strap of his rifle, trying to relieve him of at least one burden. Joel abruptly straightens at the contact, leveling you with a questioning look. Your lips twist into a reassuring smile. You curl your fingers tighter and tug the strap down his arm.

“I’ll take the backpack, too.” You keep your voice gentle as though you’re trying not to spook him. He allows you to take the gun but jerks away when you reach for his backpack strap.

“No, it’s heavy. I don’t want you takin’ both.”

“I know it’s heavy, that’s why I’m trying to take it from you.”

The gun is slipped from you as Ellie brushes your side. You’d been too focused on Joel to realize that she’d stopped thinking aloud.

“Now she can take the backpack, ya stubborn old man.” Ellie slings the rifle and stalks ahead.

A bead of sweat falls from his temple; he’s defeated. With a groan, he shrugs off his pack and holds it up for you.

“If it gets too heav-”

“Stop pretending to be a gentleman,” you reach for the bag.

Your fingers close partially around Joel’s, rewarding you with the sultriness of his rough fingers. For an extended breath, Joel doesn’t let go; he squeezes it a little harder. Eventually, he unclasps his hand, allowing you to bear the weight.

A couple of miles later, the silver truck is visible among the trees. You quicken your step.

Joel's gotta roll the tire up that hill.

“Can I help you carry it somehow? Rolling it up this isn’t gonna be fun,” you offer.

Joel simply shakes his head, breathing deeply in resignation. He lifts it, grunting, deciding to carry it the last length. You’re glad he denied your offer because, wow, why is that so hot? You stare after him for far too long.

At the top of the hill, a younger blonde man peeks in the truck's window. Ellie hands Joel's gun back to him, then, as you taught her, she circles into the trees out of sight.

"Howdy," the man straightens and calls out to you and Joel. "Got any ammo?"

Joel has his gun pointed at the man before he finishes speaking.

"No."

Deciding that Joel wasn't the best negotiator, you step ahead.

"Are you looking to trade or to steal?" You step cautiously closer and the blonde man gets a better look at you.

"Well, shit, I would've put on my two-day old clothes instead of my week-old ones if I'd known I'd run into you."

"You know this guy?" Joel snaps at your back.

"No?" His tone confuses you. Then to the trader, "Whatcha looking for?"

"I need some nine-millimeter, preferably. Shouldn't be too much of an ask since they're the most common. I do have some food up for trade." He holds up a large, navy duffle bag.

It was obvious to you that this man was used to his good looks and charm winning him points. He was slightly older than you, and you couldn't lie, this guy must've done well for himself in the apocalypse. He looked healthy, attractive, and normal.

The man continues, "I'm Zach. You show me yours and I'll show you mine?" He grins, but it fades fast. "Just tell the attack dog to calm down."

Attack dog?

You turn to catch a look at Joel: he stands with his gun pointed casually and coldly in Zach's general direction. You've never seen such an intimidating, contemptuous look on his handsome face. A shiver runs through you. Your poorly-timed attraction to him heightens. A tumult of terrible things you want him to do to you crash through your mind.

"Are you okay?" You quietly ensure.

Joel gives a curt nod, never taking his eyes from the younger man.

You face the trader. "Sorry, we don't have any nine-millimeter. We don't have anything to trade, really."

"Ah, that's fine. There's another group around this area. Maybe I'll try them."

"A group?" You query, your voice rising in concern.

"Yeah, you ain't seen anyone, sweetheart? There's a whole community of farmers. Rumor is they have chickens."

"Oh," you stutter. "Wow, chickens."

"Yeah. Supposed to be a lot of folks, so I guess that'll be my next try."

Zach looks you up and down, a genuine smile gracing his clean-cut face.

"You sure you don't wanna take a day trip with me? Take you to see some chickens? I'm sure your dad won't mind?" The winsome younger man cocks his head at Joel as if asking permission.

In the span of a second, Joel is a brick wall in front of you. He raises his rifle, his scope trained on the man's chest.

"If you don't get the fuck outta here, I'll give you those bullets you're beggin' around for."

The barely-restrained anger in his voice involuntarily has you leaning closer to him. He sounded like he was speaking to a deadly threat, and you instinctively crave his protection. Your heart races, wondering what spooked Joel.

Zach throws up his hands, "Fuck, man. Okay. I can't hit on her? Sheezus."

He starts back up over the hill, throwing worried looks every now and then, seemingly terrified that Joel will act on his inexplicably violent mood.

When he's gone, Ellie comes popping out from behind a tree.

"Damn, Joel, you made that guy piss his pants," she approves.

"What happened?"

The intense belief in your eyes that Joel had been morally right in that situation almost bothers him. He'd threatened the kid because the kid threatened him. Joel can't put rational words to it, but you're his… responsibility.

"Had a forty-five on him. Not a nine-millimeter," Joel lies.

"Wow, you could tell that?" Ellie's face glows. "That's impressive as shit. Teach me the difference? And how to shoot?"

Knowing damn well that Joel had never seen any weapon on the guy, you tell your excited younger sister, "He will, El, but first he's gotta change the tire and get us going again."

Joel rubs his jaw, sure you saw through him. “Actually, might be good to go hunting here where the woods’re thicker. And I'd gotta go before dark.”

"I'll go with you," you don't let him squirm away. "Ellie, you know the drill. Keep an extra eye out while that guy's around. I think he's-" You wanted to say harmless, but realized that would undermine Joel's actions.

"I think he's gone; but just in case," you hand her your rifle.

Ellie looks from butt to barrel with awed respect.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"So, what the hell was that about?" You interrogate Joel once the two of you are a fair distance into the woods.

"Nothin'," is Joel's forthcoming reply.

"Joel, for the love of-" you grab his shoulder and spin him to face you. "What set you off?"

Joel works his jaw, looking away from you, then meets your eyes with a faintly-playful tilt of his head.

"He called me old." Joel's face is impassive.

You fight a smirk. "Are you being serious? Ellie calls you old all the time."

"He was annoyin' me."

"I annoy you."

"I know, you're doin' it right now."

Sighing, you give up. "Fine, don't tell me."

"You upset I scared off a suitor?"

"A suitor? Damn, you are old." You push his arm in jest as you both continue marching through the woods. "He was too young for me."

"He was older than you."

"Too young." You say again. "Too happy. Too charming."

"Oh, he was charming, huh? That was workin' on you?"

You catch his eye and smile like you have a secret, "No."

Joel knows you're goading him, and his chest aches with exhilaration. He'd point loads of guns at loads of people if you'd keep smiling at him like that.

You breathe out the word, “Deer,” and Joel sinks into a crouch, tugging you down with him. The two of you take cover behind a downed hemlock. His rifle rests on the treebark following the soft footsteps of a large animal.

The way he pulled you down has you pressing into his side and you’re certain even the deer can hear your thumping heart.

But neither of you move. You can feel the unyielding firmness of his body; it’s so incredibly comforting to you that it’s all you can think about. Joel Miller.

He breathes in, and on the exhale he fires. The shot echoes through the woods, sending a handful of crows cawing into the air. Joel retracts his rifle and turns his head to you with a faux-humble smirk.

He’s even closer than he was that night on the beach; your heart stops, then kicks into overdrive. With his hair mussed and his smile lopsided, he looks happy.

Instantly realizing his mistake, but too weak to correct it, Joel risks another glance at your lips. He peers back up at your eyes and he’s dry-mouthed at how blown your pupils are. He watches with confliction as your face changes. You swallow a sudden lump in your throat and drop your eyes.

You pull away and whisper, “I can’t do this.”

And you can’t. The constant heartache of Joel pushing and pulling at you was too much. Today, he’s open, but tomorrow he’d be withdrawn. It was selfish and it was idealistic, but you wanted all of him or nothing. Calling it a crush was trivializing your feelings. An injustice; you knew what you felt for him was stronger than that.

You stand and offer him your hand. If he couldn’t give you what you wanted, that's okay, because you’d love him anyway - as platonically as you could.

“Should we butcher it here? Or drag it? It’s gonna be a chore either way.” Your voice is forced cheer.

Joel clears his throat, thrown for a loop. “Mm. Guess we’ll drag it.”

He takes your hand and you haul him up. He pauses to put his gun back on safety and sling it over his shoulder. As he does so, you stride toward the unlucky deer.

“I didn’t know lovebirds still existed.” You’re several yards from the deer when a man’s taunt drifts on the wind.

A greasy, stocky man in his late-thirties strolls out from behind another massive hemlock. He’s halfway between you and the deer carcass. Twigs snap behind you as Joel hastens to get to your side, but the man raises his handgun.

He aims at your friend, but Joel only slows his pace. The man grunts with irritation and points the firearm at you. Joel’s footsteps stop.

“Ooh, you’re easy to control, huh?”

You picture your gun back at the campsite with Ellie as she kept watch. It’s hard to regret giving it to her, though. She had a weapon and so did you. As long as Joel was around, you’d be okay.

“What’d you want?” Joel grits out; he’s pissed.

“Buddy, I don’t like your tone. Neither do they,” and the dumpy man tilts his chin behind both of you.

Two more men crush leaves and branches below their feet as they materialize. One is older and armed with a small hunting rifle. The other is much younger than both his friends despite his beard; this man foregoes a weapon. Joel rotates to face the new problem, backing up as he does so, but the first man is wise to Joel’s play.

“Stop moving toward her.”

Joel stops once more, his teeth clench so hard that his jaw pops.

“We followed the deer. Been tracking it for a half-mile.”

“Then take it,” the inflection in Joel’s voice is flat, terrifying.

“A’right, a’right, don’t get your panties twisted,” the bearded man jeers. He then shares a meaningful look with the bulkier man near you.

Standing between Joel and the heavyset man, you’ve angled yourself diagonally to see both men. Unfortunately, Joel is not the closest. The stocky man lunges forward and snatches your left arm, wrenching it behind your back painfully. You cry out in sheer agony as his thumb digs into your stitches.

“Don't fuckin' hurt her,” Joel whips out, seething. His mouth pulls into a horrified scowl, his hands raised in desperate surrender.

The man pulls up your flannel sleeve, saying, “Ah, see, I thought you were overreacting. I was so gentle.” His oily nose sniffs your hair, “Did this guy hurt you, baby?”

You twist away from his rancid breath on your neck. It occurs to you to lie, to try to get them to believe Joel was possessive for a reason other than whatever drove him. Basic ethics, most likely.

If you lie, maybe they’d see you as less of a bargaining chip. Joel certainly wasn’t helping. He’s keeping his feelings forefront with that black look on his face.

With reluctance, you mutter, “Y-”

But it’s curtailed by your own scream as Joel stumbles to his knees. The two men stand above him - the butt of a rifle is pressed against the back of Joel’s head. His eyes find yours, and a trickle of blood drips down his forehead. Tears stream freely down your cheek.

How could they? Joel is carefully and permanently on a pedestal in your mind. The peak of masculinity - both good and bad: protective, providing, impenetrable. Seeing him bleed, sagging on his knees was unthinkable. It was perverted, wrong.

You headbutt the man in the nose, a painful crack against the top of your skull. Grabbing the barrel of his handgun, you wrench it loose and stumble away. The man swears and doubles over, hands over his face.

Gasping for breath, you aim the gun at its owner and order, "Make them back off."

"Bitch, I'm not their daddy. I don't control ‘em," the man sounds pained.

The rifleman shoves the barrel of his gun into Joel's temple. "Put it down or I'll kill him."

"Hey, listen. You owe me, now," the stocky man says. "If you set down the gun, turn yourself over, we'll leave him be."

In your moment of hesitation, you lock eyes with the man you'd never expected, fear in his wet eyes. Then a freight train barrels into your side.

The gun's owner was quicker and quieter than his build should allow. It wasn't fair.

“Now, as feisty as you may think yourself, I’m not a fan of that.”

Your cheek is roughly grabbed, squeezed, and you're forced to watch as the rifleman slams the butt of his weapon into Joel’s back. Joel sprawls onto the ground, the wind knocked from him.

Weeping freely now, you beg, “Stop hurting him. Please, please don’t.”

“You gonna do what we ask?”

Joel tries to speak, but he’s rewarded with another blow to the ribs. He groans and falls onto his uninjured side only to have the bearded man deliver a clumsy kick to his stomach.

“Yes, yes. I won't- won't fight if you’ll let him -” you break off at the look in Joel's eyes. “Please, let him go.”

“Goddamn it,” he groans.

Taking advantage of Joel’s attackers focusing on him, and the man holding you being unable to see your face, you mouth: Ellie. Take her. Go.

He growls your name and a curse which earns him another kick to the ribs. He coughs violently, then pushes himself up onto his knees, breathing heavily.

Still staring at you, he softly shakes his head ‘no’. A dead leaf falls from his hair; his brown, puppy eyes are devastated. It crushes your heart into the thousands of pieces you’d been so sure it was already in.

This doesn’t feel real. It’s as though you and Joel had slipped into a nightmare out here in the lonesome woods. None of this was real. None of it except your certainty. If you could save him, you would. You'd tried; and you'd try again. He could keep Ellie safer than you could. It’s simple for you - always had been. The decision wasn’t a decision at all. Love was a practice; a concrete, tangible thing; an action. Love sacrifices.

“‘Course. I swear. He’s not exactly our type. Good news, boys, y’all know I hate a fighter.” The man wraps an arm around you and drags you backward.

He’s deliberately slow enough to let you watch as Joel stands, pained. He punches the oncoming bearded man in the jaw and, using his momentum against him, drops the fucker to the ground. Joel then lunges for the rifleman, but the young, bearded man is up faster than he should’ve been. He snakes an arm around Joel’s throat.

“Joel!” You wail, thrashing in the man’s arms. “You fucking swore, you fucking asshole.” But you know it had been a long shot. You don’t even get to see Joel’s face one last time before you’re dragged over a ridge.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel’s temples throb with his heartbeat. The near-deafness in his right ear isn’t new, but he feels more like a flash-bang grenade exploded in his face. It had been late afternoon when he’d taken you hunting, and the pale blue lighting he sees when his eyes blink open tells him it's just after sunset.

He puffs out a cloud of the mulched forest floor between his dry lips and pushes his palms down to leverage himself off the ground. The temperature had dropped rapidly and the air stings his bruised lungs.

It’s then that he hears your cry. It’s muffled like someone has their hand over your mouth. He hears feet scrabbling in the leaves, and his body physically stiffens at the remembrance of where he is.

Rage and panic napalm his mind. Those assholes must believe they’d killed him because no one in their right mind would leave Joel Miller alive; not when they had his… his.

He wanted to be mad at you. Wanted so desperately the chance to be mad at you. How could you believe them? Why would they have let him go once you stopped fighting? His heart races and he wonders if he's having a heart attack. He had been right in the beginning about you being too trusting. He had been right this whole time.

He hides his fear of losing you behind blame, anger. But then his own guilt kicks him. You were doing exactly what you’d do for Ellie. For anyone you cared for. He should’ve been stronger. He should’ve saved you.

Joel casts a searching eye for a weapon, though the righteous rage inside him would be enough. There it is. He can’t quite believe it. One of these boys with a room-temperature IQ had left his .22 propped against a tree trunk near the lip of the earthy depression.

Ignoring the pain lancing through his body, Joel crouches and shakily snatches up the gun. He moves to the top of the small rise and peers around a tree.

Sitting on your shins is the bearded man who knocked him out; the sandy-haired man’s grimy fingers are trying to shimmy your jeans down. The second man, the rifleman, whom Joel now notices is wearing a torn band shirt, is seated in the dirt above your head, pinning your arms. The third member of the goon squad, their leader, is straddling you, kissing your neck.

Joel refuses to look at your face because if he does he’ll go insane. Instead, he raises the .22 in a flash and fires a shot at at the music fan holding your arms. His orbital bone shatters, blood spurting everywhere.

Without pausing, Joel launches out from behind the tree and swings the .22 into the head of the man who took you from him. He swings the gun as if he’s winning the World Series with it. The resounding crack is so loud that Joel knows he’s killed the fucker instantly. That pisses him off more. A better death than the shitstain deserved.

Two men are dead before they even know he’s coming. Joel turns on the last one who’s now crab-walking backward from your legs.

“Hey, hey, please,” the younger man holds up a hand in panicked surrender. “You killed my brother, you killed him! Ain’t that enough?”

“You’re right behind him,” Joel grits out. He tosses the gun aside.

“Please, no, listen. No, no,” the man begs.

You retract your knees, hugging them to your chest as you sit up. Your body is a tempest of fear, revulsion, relief, horror, disgust, gratitude, and anger. You’re not sure which one you feel strongest. You’d been hassled before, nearly every woman left in the world had been and the odds hadn’t been great pre-outbreak, anyway. But it’d never been that close.

All you focus on now is Joel. Alive, and standing between you and all the world.

“Close your eyes.”

He doesn’t tell you to run because you’re already in the safest place you could be. You don’t want to close your eyes. If you do, he might disappear. You can't give up a sense while drowning in fear. Take your eyes off the one buoy you had? You just can't do it.

The sounds you hear are worse than what you see. There’s the dull thudding sound of Joel’s fists connecting with your attacker’s face, the man’s primal screams suddenly stopping, and the squelching of blood.

Joel kneeling over the man, his solid right arm rising and slamming down is all you see. It's all you want to see. You'd be lying if you said his violent defense of you wasn't thrilling, wasn't stirring something inside you.

It will haunt you for a while, but the relief of Joel being alive would ease all pain. And in truth, the would-be rapist deserved it. He deserved that side of Joel just as you deserve the other side of him.

You finally close your eyes when Joel's swings slow. Tucking into yourself, you relive the last few minutes and begin to cry.

There’s a hand in your hair. You flinch and your arms go up to protect yourself when you feel a weight sink to the ground beside you. Opening your eyes, you’re unable to move in the sight of Joel’s frenzied face. Freckles of blood dot his skin, and his eyes are wild. His breathing is rapid as his hand combs through your hair.

“You’re okay,” his deep voice is raw, “you’re okay.”

He crushes you to him - his hand cradles the back of your skull while you bury your face in his chest. A pained groan rolls from his mouth but he doesn’t let go. His earthy, leather scent is grounding.

You scramble to match his kneeling position to fit into him further; you push underneath his jacket, wrapping your arms around his torso, needing to feel him. He rests his cheek on top of your head.

“I thought they killed you,” you cry brokenly into his clothing, the inconsolable grief of losing him still pressing on you.

“Never fuckin’ do that again,” it’s too soon for him to be mad, but he tries anyway. He pulls back just enough to take your face in both hands, “If you’re given that choice again, you do not choose me.” His troubled eyes dart between yours.

You know you can’t retort, so you drop your gaze. You can’t promise you won’t take a bullet for him, because you would. Just like you would for Ellie. You slowly retract your arms from underneath his jacket, feeling awkward.

“I’ll try to think of something else first,” you answer him, your voice laden with too many emotions.

You tilt your head up to see Joel’s beautiful face marred by a tortured expression. He’s so close that you can feel his breath on your cheeks.

He wants you to be strong, yes. To fight. You are unapologetic joy and he can’t lose that. Joel would happily die if he knew you’d still smile at nature, at all your small reasons, at your sister. He can’t lose you, can't fail you.

In great contrast to the gentle way he holds your face, his jaw is clenched so hard that it looks painful. Concern creases your brow and your mouth opens a fraction to ask if he’s alright, but Joel’s lips are suddenly swallowing your question.

He burns away the swirling mire in your mind. There’s nothing, no pain or fear. Nothing except for him. His kiss is desperate - a leaf clinging to summer. As your hand returns to caress his side underneath his jacket, you can feel his heart beating as fast as your own.

A soft moan is forced from you when his hand fists in your hair. Your hands slide up his flannel-covered torso to cup his scruffy chin.

You part your lips, and breathe, “Joel.”

He moans into your mouth.

Then you delve into him, deepening the kiss. His arms encircle you, one hand in your hair, the other squeezing your ass, keeping your body flush against his. He’s even warmer than you imagined. The night chill no match for him.

A bird tweets in the distant dusk. Then it’s as if he suddenly returns to earth: he leans back, putting distance between the two of you.

“’m sorry. That was… bad. This is -” he stops, looking around, and presses his swollen lips into a thin line. “Not right. Sorry. We’ll go find Ellie.”

With that, he lets go of you completely, leaving you adrift. He stands and offers his hand to you. Confused, more muddled than you’ve ever been in your life, you accept the help silently. He drops your hand as soon as you’re upright.

Holy shit. He kissed me, right? Or did I lean in first? His rejection stomps on the already-broken pieces of your heart. I knew he wouldn’t let me in.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Ellie hops off a rock and slams into you, nearly bowling you over. She tilts her head to look up at you, and you wipe away her tear stains.

“I could hear you yelling. I could hear it, but I promised.” She cries in horror, referring to what you had ingrained into her every day since the outbreak: if you two were separated, she stayed put. She never came if she heard trouble. Ever. No exigent circumstances. She’d hated that promise, fought you on it constantly, but fucking hell were you glad she listened. You refused to even entertain what might’ve happened had Ellie been there.

“We’re alright, Ellie. I’m so sorry.” You smile tiredly. “Everyone’s okay.”

To your right, you see Joel out of the corner of your eye. Ellie leans over and grasps his sleeve, making sure he’s tangible. Joel’s mouth twitches in a tiny but reassuring smile.

“I’m fine, kid.”

“You guys look like shit,” she swipes at her tears.

Joel barks a laugh, the quick change in Ellie’s disposition precisely what was needed.

“I’d like nothing better than a hot shower,” you reply. You can still feel their grimy hands on your body. You shudder.

“Dunno ‘bout a hot shower, but I’m sure we could find a spring tomorrow.”

You sigh, “Guess that’ll have to do.”

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Are you -” Joel stumbles over his thoughts, “Are you gonna be okay? To sleep, I mean?”

“Unlikely,” you give him an uneasy smile. “I’m happy to take the first watch.”

“Alright,” he settles on the rock next to you.

You protest, irritated, “Please go rest. You've had a - a bad day, too.” You needed time to process everything and his presence was distracting.

“I’m not gonna rest if you’re keeping watch alone.”

You scoff. “I learned my lesson, okay?”

Was he hellbent on making you mad at him tonight? After he saved your ass? For the third time. Oh, my god. I really am one big problem for him.

Redness flushes your cheeks at the realization. You owe him so much yet all he does is drive you insane. Sorting out your feelings about everything was priority number one.

“That’s not what I m-”

“Well, what do you mean?”

“If you’d let me fuckin’ finish,” he makes a frustrated hand motion. “Got a hard enough time admitting it at all, an’ you want me to just come out with a poem or some shit?”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I think we should eat those last two granola bars. Don’t you guys? They’ve been in my pack for, like, three weeks.” Ellie walks over and interrupts purposefully, tired of the argument.

“Well, they lasted eight years, so I don’t think a few days will affect them, but that’s fine with me.”

Ellie trots over to her backpack and breaks two bars in half. She returns and gives you one half and Joel another. Holding her own half from the second bar, she “clinks” her bar with yours.

“Cheers,” she laughs before biting her piece. You smile and take a small bite of yours. Ellie wanders toward the sleeping bags, slowly picking apart her granola bar.

Under your breath, you tell Joel, “Please go get some sleep. I owe you and I’m fine.”

He stamps the butt of his gun on the rock he’d been sitting on in acknowledgment, then mercifully leaves you to your daunting task.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

It's still dark when your relief comes. He looks terrible. His knuckles are flaked with both his and another's blood, and his forehead still bears traces of the afternoon.

"There's a stream down there," you indicate to your right. Its babbling could be heard in the quiet air.

"I'm fine," he grouses.

"Joel…" you gently chide.

Pulling a shirt from your pack, you walk off to the stream. You're back less than a minute later, and you point at the rock you'd been sitting on.

"Yes, ma'am," his voice is still monotone.

You position yourself in front of him, his face level with yours. He closes his eyes as you carefully rub the damp cloth across his dirty, blood-streaked forehead.

"It's been hours, why didn't you clean up?"

Joel only shrugs in answer.

"What's wrong?" You stop wiping.

His eyelids open and the flickering campfire reflects in his glassy eyes.

"Can you just keep doin' that?" He closes his eyes once more. You oblige.

He doesn't mean to, he doesn't even register that he's done it until it's too late. He flinches as his sore, bruised knuckles bend to fit his hands around your hips. You tenderly grasp one and begin to wipe it free of residue.

Neither of you speaks, too lost in your own thoughts and in the moment. Joel feels so close and so distant.

You’d sorted through your emotions over the near-assault with brashness. It was the end of the world. Dwelling on things you had survived was pointless.

No, the problem was Joel. You thought you’d got him killed, then he was alive, then the kiss, then he rejected you. Guilt, grief, joy, embarrassment.

You still weren't sure who initiated the kiss, and his defensive coldness led you to believe it had been you. In truth, you supposed you were just back at square one. Joel forever opening up then shutting down again.

It only made you feel worse. Desperately you wanted to cling to him, have him tell you that he didn’t blame you. Have him make the world go away. But even if he did that now, it wouldn’t last. He wouldn’t let you fully inside.

“Thank you,” Joel murmurs when you back away.

“Like I said, I owe you.” Your voice gives away no inflection.

Joel watches you walk over to where Ellie lay. You kiss her forehead, then cuddle in behind her. He sees you whisper something in her ear.

Joel understands. An easy reprieve from your own emotions was to care for another’s.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

The silver truck glimmers behind you. You regard it with sadness before trudging onward. The sun beads in your eyes as the westward walk continues. Looking down isn’t a reprieve as the sun reflects off the pure snow. The soft, rolling plains stretch out, but the horizon is jagged with the promise of greater hills or rock formations. There’s not a single car to be seen.

“It got us through, like, four fucking states in three days,” Ellie holds up a map of the Midwest you’d found at a state welcome center.

“You mean I got us through four fuckin’ states in three days,” Joel boasts.

It had been too long since he’d filled the gas tank, but with the broken gauge, he’d been unable to predict exactly when the vehicle would give up the ghost. The answer was somewhere over the border of Nebraska.

“Sure, Joel, you did it all on your own,” Ellie rolls her eyes. She kicks a chunk of snow. “I’m so happy you're here to do everything.”

Since the fight, you’d found it difficult to even look at the man next to you. You had bared yourself to him that day; shown him that you were willing to die for him, that you trusted him with Ellie, that your greatest fear had been his death; and then that fucking kiss. And here you both were: unable to look at each other.

“At least one of you is,” Joel mutters, his breath clouding in the freezing air.

The man could find his way under your skin even if you were wearing a latex bodysuit. You bite your lip to prevent the automatic, angry retort.

Thinks I’m dead weight. You think bitterly. Don't blame him too much. Almost got him killed. Probably thinks of me as a dumb kid.

You wrap your arms around yourself, trying to quell the heartbreak. You understood his opinion: you’re weak because you care. You had given up on trying to show him that that was the only way you could live with yourself.

A cloud blows over the afternoon sun, illuminating the land in a new way. The horizon silhouettes a building in the distance, at least a mile out. You shield your eyes, then point.

“Shelter?” Your teeth chatter together with perfect timing and, from the corner of your eye, you see motion. Joel is unwinding the scarf he’d found. He drapes it around your neck.

“Wrap it over your chin,” he instructs.

You do so. It had been a new scarf from the same rest stop where you’d picked up the map. It smelled old, but it was warm. His warmth. You regret curling it over your mouth because on top of the old smell was Joel. At least he can’t see most of your face now.

Joel relished the way something of his - albeit his for less than a few days - looked on you. He’d take what he could get. You’d pried open his hardened heart and nestled inside. Joel had never met anyone like you. So capable and vulnerable and easy to be with. And fucking irritating. And stubborn. God, you piss him off.

You’d been different since that night and Joel hadn’t the emotional intelligence to work out your problem. As far as he could reason, you were upset with him for not saving you sooner, or for kissing you at such a shit moment; or, he worried, kissing you at all. His fear that you see him as a father figure grows larger.

“You and I go in, Ellie covers the front?” You start planning. “Together or me in the back?”

“Could be one of those state historical cabins, so there might be only one door anyway,” Joel theorizes.

“Good point,” you concede.

You evaluate Ellie’s back as she walks in front, wondering if you could get away with a hushed conversation with Joel. The heaviness between the two of you was reaching a breaking point for you. You’re just one state away from Wyoming now, and you can’t let him leave without fixing whatever was happening. Luckily, the wind howls occasionally from the west, so your words are unlikely to carry to her ears.

You drop back, slowing your pace. Joel notices and slows as well.

“Is it because I told them you hurt me? Because I kissed you? Or because I- because I almost got you killed? Is that why you're still so mad at me?” You pepper him suddenly.

Joel couldn’t be more surprised if you had stabbed him.

“No, I know why y’ told ‘em I did that,” he answers. “An’ I know you thought trading yourself was the best option.” His voice drops an octave, “It wasn’t, but I get it.”

“You get it? You don't blame me? Then why are you being so mean to me?” You plead.

“What?” Joel's face turns to yours.

“You’re even colder than usual. You make these little digs at me, you don’t trust me to keep watch half the time anymore. You treat me like a child you’re disappointed in.” The irony smacks into you when you nearly whine that last sentence.

Joel grabs your arm, stopping you and turning you to face him.

"I don’ do those things because I think you’re a child. And I thought you were the one who was mad-” he pauses, unsure how to organize his argument. Snowflakes catch in his gray hair. His dark eyes are stark against the white surroundings. “But I couldn’t feel less fatherly 'bout you if I tried.”

“What - what the fuck does that mean?” You ask, baffled and failing to keep your pitch low. Ellie notices now that the two of you have stopped.

“Can you guys fight in the damn cabin up there?” She crosses her arms and tilts her head back dramatically. “Either kiss or kill each other, I’m so tired of this.” And with that, she spins around.

When you reignite eye contact with Joel, he’s burning a hole through you with every emotion you’ve ever made him feel. There’s a moment when you think he’ll take Ellie’s advice, but then he sighs.

“Go on, girl,” he gestures ‘after you’.

“‘Girl’? You said you weren't infantilizing me.” You scoff.

“Infantilizing? Well, ain’t that a five-dollar word, where’d ya learn that?” he snarks in exasperation. God, you piss him off.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Joel had been right, again. You were getting tired of that. An empty wooden box with a fireplace on the lower level, the cabin was at least a shelter from the snow flurrying down. It had plain, empty floors and a staircase with no railing but a trapdoor to separate the top floor from the bottom. That was handy in case a problem arose.

There was a great debate about lighting the fire. All three of you took turns arguing both for and against it (Ellie: “But it’s fucking frozen in here,” Joel: “You wanna alert any dumbass in the area to our presence, darlin’, go ahead,”), but in the end, the frigid temperature had the final say. Ellie and Joel ventured back into the growing white swirl outside to look for wood in the tiny shed.

While they were gone, you laid out the camping gear and set about making this house a home for the night. In the corner, you notice an old brochure for the place.

Perfect. Kindling.

You dig through your pack to find your lighter when Ellie shoves open the heavy wooden door with two logs in her arms. She kicks the door closed, despite its weight.

“This was all I got, but I think Joel might’ve got more.” She announces, slamming the logs onto the hearth.

“Was he right behind you?” You ask, laughing preemptively.

“Oh, shit, yeah.”

She runs to the door and jerks it back open. There’s Joel standing in the doorway with his arms full of wood. His leveled glare and signature frown send both you and Ellie into fits of laughter.

“I’m sorry,” Ellie chuckles.

Joel’s long legs step over the threshold, and when he gets close enough to Ellie, he shakes his hair over her, showering her in melting snowflakes.

Still laughing, Ellie blocks him with her hands and cries, “You dick!”

Sitting cross-legged next to the hearth, you no longer need the fire, warmed by the scene playing out in front of you. No matter the type of relationship with Joel, you couldn’t care about the two of them any more than you do now. The smile on your face is so wide that you feel like you'll split.

Joel approaches and sets the logs down far more gently than Ellie had next to the fireplace. You hold up the two logs Ellie had grabbed, and together with Joel, start the fire.

After a dinner of canned veggies, Ellie sprawls out on the floor in her t-shirt and jeans. Joel sits with his back to the flames while you lean against the heated stones.

“It’s hot down here,” Ellie complains.

Joel's face darkens with irritation.

“I’m allowed to be hot.”

“You’re the only reason we got the damn thing going,” he accuses. “You got too much energy. It’s got you all -” he makes a shaking motion with his hands.

“I do not,” Ellie yawns. “I’m actually exhausted.”

“That floor upstairs has a trapdoor. Might be cooler, El.”

“Doesn’t heat rise or some shit?” Ellie asks.

“Yes, but this place is airtight and I’m betting it’s colder up there. I don’t care what you do, I’m just telling you.”

“Okay, I’ll go look.” Ellie hops up in a fluid motion and bounds across the room and up the stairs. She’s gone for a few moments, and you picture her standing with her eyes closed acting like a human thermometer.

She stomps down the creaky old steps, “It’s way cooler but not cold so I’m gonna sleep up there.” She starts to gather her sleeping bag, pillow, and her clothes.

Your stomach lurches. Alone with Joel overnight? That’s… that’s never happened.

“Do you want company, Ellie?” You ask, trying to take the coward’s way out.

“Uhh. Do you mind staying down here?” Ellie asks with a grimace. A teenager has to take every opportunity to be independent.

“Course not. Just making sure you’re okay,” you reassure her, though you’re the one who’s not okay.

“Goodnight, then. Love you,” Ellie balances her stuff as she makes her way up the stairs. “‘Night, Joel!” Then the squeak, bam! of the trapdoor hinging shut.

“‘Night, Ellie,” comes his reply.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Let’s get this over with,” you sigh pessimistically.

“Wish I hadn’t kissed you,” Joel blurts out before you finish speaking. It was obvious he hadn’t planned this any more than you had.

Subconsciously, you put a hand over your chest at the stabbing pain of his words. Though you suspected it, it was hard to hear it from those same lips.

Joel looks into the shadowy corner of the cabin. “Everything used to make you happy. Sunsets, mountains, clouds - hell, even I managed to make you laugh once or twice. But you've been so… so angry ever since - since I kissed you.”

Okay, so I didn't start the kiss. One less thing to feel guilty for.

“I wasn’t sure who moved first. Then you said it was ‘bad.’” Your voice curdles to a whisper in embarrassment.

Joel’s head jerks to you. The firelight glows on the right side of his tanned face, highlighting his patchy beard. “You thought I meant your kissin’ skill?”

You don’t reply, a lump in your throat at the memory of all you felt that day and the sting of his rejection.

What scared you most that day was not what nearly happened to you, but what had happened to him. In a way, you understood him much better now. Letting people in only got people hurt. That’s fine and dandy when you were the one getting hurt, but not when Joel had been near death because of your affection for him.

“No, you meant getting close to me.” You can’t make eye contact with him, but his hand twitches closer to yours.

“No, I didn’t,” his voice is so rough it could catch on silk. "You an' Ellie are all I got. What I meant was that I shouldn’t have finally let you know that next to three dead bodies after you’d been -” he stops himself, looking away.

Those two sentences in his gruff, passionate voice pick up the pieces of your heart.

It's your turn. “I haven’t been mad, I’ve been hurt. Confused. Taking a page out of your book and building a wall to protect myself.”

Joel frowns, “From me?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah. I told you I’m not a good man. Tommy and I did bad shit to survive. But... I was worse.”

“Stop fucking comparing yourself to him,” you beg. “I don’t want your brother.”

“An’ you want me?” Joel chuckles darkly. “Old enough to be your dad.”

“You said you didn’t view me like a kid.”

“No,” his brown eyes find yours, giving you the same look he gave you out on the road and before he kissed you that horrible day. “No, when I think about you, it ain’t -” he hesitates. “It's what any man would think.”

You slide closer to him, your hip bumping the rock hearth, and murmur, “I don’t want any man, either.”

Delicately, you rest a hand on his jean-covered knee. Your mind had changed. If he would keep opening himself up to you over time like this, he was worth the risk. Worth the heartache.

He's warm even through the tough material. A summer's day at the lake, and you desperately want to go swimming. Joel's large, deep eyes memorize your face, and the fire blazing beside you pales in comparison.

“I can't. What if I fail you again?” His mind jumps to how close you were to being hurt. The fear shocking his body. The sound of your cry. “I don’t know how to be close to anyone anymore. And I’m-” his voice strains, but he raises his hand to touch your face.

You close your eyes, inadvertently parting your lips as well. His thumb trails and pulls on your bottom lip.

“I’ve killed innocent people,” he confesses, staring at your inviting mouth. "I’m not who I should be."

His eyes snap back to yours as you open them, “I… had a daughter.”

Joel’s eyes are watery, but he refuses to blink and let them spill. It’s Joel’s hardest confession and he does it purposefully while his brain is distracted. He needed you to know why he wasn’t right for you. Why he was stopping this.

“So have I. And…” You pour your heart into your words, “I’m so, so sorry, Joel. Nothing I can say will ease that pain. I- I can't even imagine it." You picture Ellie. You squeeze his knee where your hand still lay, "But I’ll help you carry it all, if you’ll let me."

“Goddamn it,” he growls. “You’re not lettin’ me have any room, are you? Always have to fuckin’ argue.”

His calloused hands seize your face, crushing his lips to yours. You mewl in surprise and the hand on his leg flies to his cheek. He holds you together though you feel like falling apart. The kiss was never chaste, but then his tongue demands its way into your mouth and you reward him with a submissive moan.

Joel feels his entire body ignite. His lips drag you to a state of arousal you'd only experienced in your dreams of him. His hands clutch the sides of your face, his thumbs caressing your cheekbones as he licks into you. Joel's heat soaks into you, pooling below your stomach.

Not close enough for you, you throw your leg over him, straddling him.

He groans deliciously as you settle on his lap. He runs his hands up and down your back, your sides, wanting to map your body.

You grip his hair, as soft as you always knew it would be, and refuse to let the man breathe. Your kiss is as incendiary as his, and both of you gasp around the other’s lips. You rock against him, feeling the hardness in his jeans.

“Fuck,” his voice breaks along with any restraint he still had.

“Please,” you cry, plain need dripping from your voice.

“Whatever y’want, baby,” he drunkenly promises into your skin, placing openmouthed kisses down your throat. “This gotta go, though,” he grumbles. He slides both hands up your shirt, removing it with a flourish.

His undeniable desire for you goes straight to your soul: a desperate ache for him. He works your bra off and replaces it with his hardworking hands. You throw your head back in relief, but it’s still not enough.

"Yes," you spur him on.

Returning to his perfect, indecently pouty mouth, your hands fumble with his belt. The clink of the belt buckle hitting the stone hearth underneath him is the most erotic sound you've yet heard. Without leaving your lips, Joel hooks your ankles around his waist and lowers you to his sleeping bag.

He trails down your jaw. You hurriedly unbutton his flannel, wanting to feel his skin flush with yours. He lets you slide your jeans off, in fear you might remember the last time a man tried to remove them.

But once they're gone, his hands skate along your hips and hook in your underwear. In a jumble of arms and material, Joel soon covers your nakedness with his own; his hard length throbbing against your hip.

“I can feel your heat, already,” he chokes, his voice gravelly. “Now, you gonna be quiet, or do I gotta cover this mouth of yours?” Joel’s thumb ghosts over your lips.

“I’ll be quiet, Joel. Promise,” you widen your eyes in earnest.

Joel groans, "Shit, woman." He ruts against you.

You lean to kiss his neck and jawline while your hands slide down in excitement to cup him, stroke him. You make a small, satisfied noise at the feel of him in your hands. He moans above you, dropping his head onto your shoulder, and you smirk.

“Are you gonna be quiet?”

He grasps your wrist and pulls it away. “You keep doin’ that and this’ll be a short ride.”

Joel ruts against you again, this time across a spot he hadn’t before - and you jolt with the sensation. He does it again, mesmerized by the way you move. He lines up and teases you, the mere contact sending your eyes rolling. You dig your nails into his biceps.

“Joel, before- I just want t-”

He stops you with a wet, filthy kiss. The throbbing between your legs has you rubbing against him for release. He erases your thoughts. Joel tilts his forehead to yours.

“I know y’do.”

As much as he fought it, worried about it, somewhere deep inside he knows exactly how you feel. He also knows he feels the same.

Written across my fuckin’ forehead, isn’t it?

But, unlike him, you'd never taken a break from loving things. You hadn't spent years denying that you were even capable of it anymore. He could not say it. But he could show it.

Your anxiousness melts away when Joel pushes into you slowly, savoring your expression. Total arousal and concentration has his mouth gaping. You nip at his bottom lip and he chases your mouth.

He can’t believe he’s doing this. For such a short amount of foreplay, you’re gushing for him. He almost gave this up over fear of letting you in? This with a woman who loves him? God, he is a coward.

“Don’t deserve this,” it’s a throaty moan as the patch of hair between his hips scratches yours. He looks down at the place he’s joined with you.

What a fuckin’ sight, Joel feels the spark at the base of his spine and almost comes right there.

“Oh, fuck,” you thread your fingers back through Joel’s hair.

Your breasts press into his hard chest as you arch to accommodate him. It doesn’t even hurt, you’ve been so thoroughly turned on by him. You just need Joel as deep as he can be in you, in all possible ways.

He drags himself out, then slowly eases back in. You whimper with the deviance of a man being inside you. Not just any man, either, as you’d told him moments ago. But Joel. Beautiful, emotionally fragile, powerful Joel who felt loyalty toward you, who protected you, who cared for you.

He drops his mouth to bruise yours, overwhelmed by your reaction to him. His pace picks up until his fingers dig into your waist as you cling to him. You try to keep the need to be silent forefront, but it was so difficult with Joel possessing you, forcing noises to exist. He clasps a large hand over your mouth.

He closes in over you, muttering, “How bad I wanna hear those noises. Wish I could hear how much you like it.” His hand slides up over your breast, manhandling slightly.

“I thought about your hands,” you adjust his fingers to admit in a whisper. "Thought about them all over me."

“Hm, did you?” His voice is thick with lust.

Before you can answer, he wraps his hand around your throat, and, watching your eyes, squeezes the sides carefully. Only enough to remind you how strong he is, what you do to him, and how utterly safe you are with him. He kisses you again, hard, and it's full of those promises.

It’s then that the tense pleasure building in your core snaps into an electric fire in your muscles. Writhing underneath him, he feels it, too.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he slows his thrusts while your body squeezes him.

“Oh, my god, Joel,” you cry as quietly as you can. You’ll never get off him after this.

It's the first time you've sung his name, and Joel knows he is well and truly fucked. He releases his grip. You grasp his hand and kiss his knuckles slowly.

He arches your hips and shoves his balled-up jacket underneath you. Joel places his hand over your mouth and thrusts into you with barely-controlled force, grunting with primal intent.

Your cry is muffled and distorted as he pushes inside you over and over. He rubs against a spot that makes you arch into him and decides that's his favorite. His thumb rolls over your sensitive mound and, combined with his filthy words, you feel him building another wave of euphoria.

All you know is his name, repeated over and over in your mind to remind you that Joel is the one making you feel this good. That knowledge alone shoves you back to the edge.

His lips are at your ear, and his accent is the strongest you’ve ever heard it, “Knew you’d feel like this. Always throwin’ yourself at me. Darin’ me to fuck you. Wantin' me to do it,” he can’t help himself: he tenderly bites and sucks at your neck just below your ear.

“Look so fuckin’ good underneath me,” he praises, his cadence clipped with exertion.

But Joel is tireless in his pursuit. Determined to show you how you make him feel. Determined to take what was already his. Hellbent on fucking you until it hurt to walk tomorrow. Shit, maybe he’d carry you. He felt free, wild.

It’s the way he consumes your body with his hands, his lips, his tongue as he fucks you that has your mind reeling into another realm, or falls off a cliff, or wherever it is he sends you. Your body is as taut as a bowstring before it snaps the second time. The pleasure of Joel playing your body like a guitar fills your bones, your veins.

“Y’still with me?” Joel presses a kiss to your lips. You feel yourself clench a final time around nothing. He sits back.

Absently, you run a hand along your stomach and feel a substance. You raise your eyes to his, and he grins sheepishly. It’s such an intimate smile, it hurts. He takes a shirt and wipes your skin.

“Sorry 'bout the mess. Wanted to pull out in time to come on the shirt or somethin’ but…”

He takes your hand, helping you sit up, and kisses your chin, cradling your face. You kiss him with fervor, and he breaks it to finish, “But you’re too damn much.”

“I’m never just right, am I?” You joke. You count on your fingers: “Too happy, too talkative, too argumentative, and now just too much.”

He grabs and kisses your fingers, saying huskily, “’s the way you should be."

"Put your clothes on," you laugh and follow your own advice.

"Yes, ma'am," he picks up his jeans and pulls them on without buttoning them, and you think about ripping them off and going for round two. You can see the brunette curls poking out invitingly.

He puts his undershirt on, then drags your sleeping bag to his. He unzips both bags to lay flat. A bed and a blanket.

"C'mere," he relaxes on the makeshift bed, holding an arm out to you.

After everything, this was what was going to make you cry? The sight of him, hair a mess, glowing in the firelight, enveloping you into his arms?

All those years staring at sunsets. Wish I could've been staring at this.

Tears prick your eyes as you kneel with him. He tucks you under his waiting arm and lies down, fitting you against him. His breath plays with your hair, and his hand trails up and down your arm soothingly.

"I thought this would never happen," you sigh.

There’s a moment of thought before Joel says, "Ah, shit. You were seventeen when-"

"Yep."

"Oh," he realizes you're a virgin. Or had been up until twenty minutes ago. He feels uncertain. "You okay?"

You laugh, "Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?"

"Wasn't really romantic."

"You and a fireplace? That's way more romantic than I would've asked for. I'd have been happy with you and a backseat or you and a tree."

You feel Joel's chuckle roll through his chest. He viciously revels in your words. All you wanted was him.

"That wasn't what I meant, though. I meant that I thought you'd never - that you didn't feel anything like I did."

"Mm," he tenses. "Course I do."

Communication was not his strong suit, and in this moment, he does not want to fuck anything up.

"Better for me to show you."

"And I prefer that any time," you praise him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Fucking finally, holy shit."

Ellie stands above with folded arms and the smuggest smile you've ever seen.

"You guys must've been freezing down here because somehow you ended up all cuddled together and I know for sure you'd never do that willingly because you guys hate each other," she sarcastically monologs.

Your face feels like you held it above the now-dead fire.

Joel hasn't moved. Maybe he was pretending she couldn't see him.

In the night, the two of you must've rolled over, because you're curled around his back, arm slung over his side. Your nose had buried itself into the waves at the nape of his neck.

"Ellie?" You cover your eyes. "Shut the fuck up."

She just laughs.

"Now does this mean there will be more or less bickering? Because sometimes it's entertaining but sometimes, fucking hell, you guys really go at it."

Joel finally stirs, heaving a massive sigh. "You ain't gonna leave us alone, are you?"

Ellie wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. "Should I?"

Joel shoots her a glare.

Ellie makes eyes at you and you know she wants to barrage you with questions. You suppose it'll come sooner or later, and it's better if Joel's not there.

"Joel," you start, not sure what to suggest, but then he sits up.

"I'm headin' outside."

The door closes as he tugs his jacket on, and Ellie looks at you with poorly-contained excitement.

"What the fuck happened?"

"Shhh! Shit, Ellie, it's not a big deal." You haven't decided how much you're telling her.

Her glare could kill a horse. "Not a big deal? It's Joel. Mr. Antisocial. And you've been pining after him this whole damn time."

You shush her again, "He's going to fucking hear you."

"You think he doesn't know?" She asks incredulously; your affection for him was so obvious that she thought even Joel couldn’t have missed it.

You exhale sharply, "No, he definitely knows that now. I mean he doesn't know how long. It's embarrassing."

"So, he… knows now?"

Shit.

You physically deflate. You'll have to tell her. She'll wheedle or smart it out of you eventually.

"We… worked it out."

Ellie starts laughing.

"You FUCKED HIM." She laughs harder at the new territory. It was funny, and kind of bizarre to have a man come into the picture after all of these years and change everything.

You can’t help but laugh resignedly, "Don't be so crass. You don’t need the details.”

“I don't want the damn details.” She looks nauseated at the thought. “I can’t believe I leave you alone for one night and you pounce on the poor man.”

“I didn’t pounce on him,” you retort, even though you literally did. “We talked about some shit that went down in the woods last week and… and some other things. It was a mature conversation. I hope the bickering will be much less.” Then you add, “But I wouldn’t count on that.”

“Just don’t forget I exist.” Ellie semi-jokingly requests.

“Ellie,” you stand and hug her tight. “Don’t even say that. It’d never happen.”

“I know. I guess if anyone had to be as wonderful as me, I’m glad it’s Joel.”

“It’s not a competition. I’m also happy to know you're not mad,” you chuckle.

"Mad? It's like I got a brother. A… much older brother." She makes a face at you. "More like a dad."

"You never heard of DILFs?"

"You're gross."

Continue ->

#my fics #the last of us #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller #pedro pascal #smut #pedro pascal smut #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #fanfic #tlou fanfic #tlou

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imaginebetterfutures · 5 months

Text

I'm back with another sculpture! To be completely honest, this one was a real struggle for me to work out, idea wise. I love working abstractly (see earlier pieces!) but for this one our prompt in class was "objects and identity." We were asked to cast an object from life, and use it to speak to some aspect of ourselves that we want to explore. Not only am I an extremely closed book (pour one out for my therapist) but I'm also really not that interested in replicating objects?

So... I sort of cheated. This isn't *really* a cast of VHS tapes (although I did try to do that, and it failed miserably) but I'm still pleased with the outcome. Sound on for what I think is the best part — the pleasing and/or sinister snick snick snick sound of the tape unspooling and piling up.

If you like long, corny artist statements, boy howdy do I have one for you!

~~ GEODE ~~

My day job is as a journalist, and while I find a lot of the posturing that journalists do about our role as storytellers to be pretentious and often egotistical, I also can't deny that I got into this because I love to see into people's lives. Why do people do what they do? Why do we make the choices we make? How did we get here, as individuals and as a collective?

Much of journalism is about the big moments — wars and chaos and game changing plays. But those don't come out of nowhere. They come from a history, both personal and communal. We are products of our childhoods, our cultures, our teachers, our parents. We come from places that have smells and sounds and textures. And we document those things — and here I don't mean "we" journalists, I mean "we" as people. Humans have, for our entire history, recorded ourselves in one way or another. We write on walls, we tell each other stories, we come up with words that have deep meanings that stretch back into time.

Some journalists see their job as speaking truth to power. Or telling the important stories in the face of chaos and misinformation. Or staking a claim to truth, and defending it. All of that is true, of course. But when I think about my job I don't think about those things. I think about excavation. About telling the story in such a way that you can feel the texture of the people in it. I think of stories like geodes.

Do you know how a geode forms? They start with a volcanic eruption. Lava flows from a hot, angry vent, and mixes with the gases in the air. Most of the time, those gases don't stay put — they escape into the air and go off to become the wind in your hair, or carry pollen, or sweep under a bird's wing. But sometimes, bubbles of gas can't escape the boiling weight of the lava and become trapped. As the lava cools, those bubbles remain. It is only then — held tight and encased in cooling rock — that the crystals characteristic of geodes form.

There is something sad about opening a geode. It can reveal a great beauty, but it is also inherently destructive. You are taking a hammer to something hard and protected and asking it to open, to be seen, to be commented on. Not all geodes want to open. Not all geodes should be opened, perhaps. Not all geodes are beautiful inside. How do you know when to break one, and when to leave it be?

Once you break a geode, you open the crystals up to damage. UV light can bleach the colors inside and the oils on your skin can slowly eat away at the glittering growths.

I think a lot, as a journalist, about the stories that we lose when people die. The small things that they knew — the color of a lover's hair, the name of their neighborhood dog, the true identity of a soldier — that go to the ground with them. I have to stop myself from buying home movies when I see them at garage sales and thrift shops — each one, to me, a geode. Inside they might contain nothing, or everything. Wrapped tight in metallic film they recorded things people thought were important, things people wanted to remember. Trapped in plastic and now, broken open.

My piece is a VHS geode. I have broken it, and it is unspooling, and we are forgetting. It is beautiful and terrible all at once.

#sculpture #moving sculpture #kinetic sculpture #plaster #plaster casting #VHS #geode #cheesy artist statements #art class #art

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average-vibe · 6 months

Text

I’m Sorry, Ok?

summary: wilbur comes home super late from a concert, and forgets to say hello to his favorite person

warnings: language, bad grammar, sad wilbur, mentions of OD

notes: this kinda sucks but it’s my first actual fanfic so i’m proud of myself for finishing lol

masterlist

Wilbur walked into the shared home around 2:30 AM, exhausted from the show. he usually didn’t come home this late, but wilbur’s phone died, so transportation became much harder. eventually, wilbur found a gas station that had a phone charger, but his phone only reached 7% by the time the station closed, and by the time he got into a car, his phone died. it also didn’t help that the show was about 2 hours away from the house. wilbur didn’t care. at least he was home.

He put his keys, phone, and money on the counter before crawling to the bedroom, eager to go to bed. he didn’t even see you, sprawled on the couch, sound asleep. about 5 hours earlier, when wilbur sent his, “shows over” text, you decided to wait for him on the couch, hoping that you could meet him at the door and cuddle for the night. after about an hour, and no texts back from wilbur, you began to panic. you called his phone about a thousand times, then tried Ash, who simply said “he should be on his way.” before having to hang up. you tried wilbur a couple more times, before giving up. you tried melatonin, but you thought that the amount you needed would kill you. you just closed your eyes, and tried to think about anything but wilbur. eventually, and surprisingly, sleep came rather easily.

you woke up around 6:30, and immediately started panicking, realizing that wilbur was not with you. you tried to call, but to no avail. yiu began to actually have a panic attack, worried that wilbur never made it home.

the sound of your sobs woke wilbur up from his already light sleep. as soon as he heard your small, hitched breaths, and your loud sobs, he knew something was wrong. he rushed out of his bed, out the bedroom door, and through the hallway to see you, knees clutched to your chest, eyes shut, and cheeks soaked.

“hey lovely.” Wilbur whispered, almost running to you in a flurry. “what’s the matter? why’re you crying?” he sat down next to you, embracing you with a hug. “wilbur?” you asked, voice cracking. wilbur chuckled, his laugh making you calm. “yes, it’s me baby. now why’re you crying? gonna mess up that pretty face.” he said, taking your face in his hands, and stroking your cheek with his thumb. “i-i thought y-you weren’t um.. c-coming home. i t-thought you were gone.” you’d aid through tears. “baby, i would never leave without sayin bye!” wil said, smiling. “and why’d you ever think i would leave you? i love you.” he questioned, his smile now turned into a concerned face. “i-i sat here waiting for you until it was late and i called you a bunch and you never answered and ash said he didn’t know and i didn’t know where you were.” you said in a rush, looking at the floor in embarrassment.

“oh.” wilbur said, frowning. “i’m sorry, love. i was just so tired from the show yesterday. and the reason i was home late was because my phone died, at this really sketchy place, so i went to the gas station and charged it and then it took me 2 hours to get home..”

you smiled. you didn’t think your boyfriend would just leave you.

wilbur smiled back at you. “hey, now that i’m home, let’s cuddle.” he said.

“alright.” you agreed.

“oh, and, one more thing.” wil said.

“yes?”

“i’m sorry, okay?”

#wilbur soot fluff #wilbur soot #wilbur x reader #dream smp #dsmp #fluff #wilbur fluff #dsmp wilbur

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is-this-yuri · 3 months

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so, as previously mentioned, my car's alignment is fucked. as i was settling down to sleep last night a cop approached me and told me i had to move along and couldn't sleep in the lot i'd been in. this is pretty normal, and usually cops are pretty chill about it as long as i don't get mad. but i told him it probably wasnt a good idea for me to move until the road conditions were better since i'd be slipping and sliding all over the place. he just said i couldn't stay where i was.

so, sure enough, i slipped and slid right into a guard rail while i was trying to move, and now my front axel is looking pretty bad. of course i had to drive on it a little bit too which probably damaged it even more.

the shop gave me $100 as a conservative estimate for alignment, but if they end up needing to order parts that price will go up. i've gotten a couple pretty big donations and a bunch of smaller ones, most of which went toward gas (which i have plenty of) and some extra clothes for myself. i'm super grateful for that since it's kept me warm through all this snow, and i'm not expecting any more huge donations like the couple i got, but i do need some help with this.

i'll ask my dad if he can pay for any part of it, but he's most likely going to say no. he's retired and has medical bills and rent to take care of. just getting my car running was a massive expense for him and that happened only earlier this month. he was pretty upset about it and his wife refused to talk to him for a couple days after, so again most likely the answer is gonna be no.

so yeah. i'm posting this link again. i've set a tentative goal for $100 but i'm probably going to need a bit more. i know it's asking a lot, but living in a car that can't move is very dangerous for me. if it gets impounded because i've left it in one spot for too long, i'll straight up be without shelter. that exact thing almost happened last time i lived in it and i had to scramble to get my car towed away to a safe spot. if you're able to give anything, please, anything will help.

#homeless #homelessness #hopefully next week's snow is the last of it for this year and surviving wont be as expensive anymore (:

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soapskneebrace · 3 months

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same anon who sent the ask abt price: MW3's writing was embarrassing tbh. i agree 100% that narratively, its the most logical and sensible for price to be the one who takes the fall. what you wrote i flat out completely agree with, and its deeply disappointing that we are stuck with an extremely poorly written and rushed story. the game was a hot steamy pile. everyone was slightly out of character, they all growled their lines like mad dogs, and the missions were ass. i cant believe no one talks about the mission where you get anti arab hate crimed. what was that??? what was the reason??? (the only thing i liked about that game were the 9 minutes of nikolai. i just find him entertaining.) i was replaying mw2019 while super high and got to the mission where you threaten the butchers wife and son and just thought to myself; that lady and that kid are gonna have nightmares about price for the rest of their lives. that room is going to come back to them again and again and again. they literally did nothing wrong except the crime of being the butchers family. what price and gaz did is never going to leave them, and gaz was right to question price on that. of course, the game doesn't care at all. they're disposable NPCS for a shock value scene. i dunno, the fact that the game doesn't really give a fuck, and seemingly even condones what happened, just kinda hit different and i had to put the game down for the evening. i guess that hit at that moment bc i had also read a fic a bit earlier where the reader was price's civvy gf and gets kidnapped by his enemies. it bent my brain a bit bc, the thing in the fic is literally a canon event perpetuated by price, portrayed as a good thing by the source material, that now price is the victim of. it was a very weird feeling for my weed addled brain to try and process. think i blue screened actually. i wanna put price in a jar and shake him vigorously. pin him to a board like a entomology insect. i want to bite him. i do love him i swear. but maybe make him actually face a single real consequence for his war crimes? (disappointing that it will never happen on screen bc these games are all gas no breaks outright propaganda. not to mention real war crimes are happening constantly in front of everyone's eyes and going completely unpunished) sorry this is really long, i have no one to talk to abt these games and i dont understand my feelings toward that British man

Yeah. The thing about Price is that he's not a good person in the slightest. We write fiction about the kind of man he can be--the best version of himself, a version we can all stomach--but the real Price is distinct from that, and the best people in this fandom recognize that.

Soap and Ghost have some plausible deniability simply because we haven't seen them doing anything other than action movie stuff. Gaz is on the road to becoming Price--Price is doing his damndest to turn Gaz into himself--but he isn't there yet. (@391780 did a GREAT analysis of the driving scene in mw19 and how Price subtly manipulates Gaz, but I can't find it.)

EDIT: Early kindly provided.

We, as the audience, are not actually supposed to worry that much about the Butcher's family, because Price is one of the Good Guys who would never let something Bad actually happen. Infinity Ward does not take the Butcher's family seriously, and does not want us to take the family seriously, because they are just a convenient vehicle with which to move the plot along. Their presence is, in the end, shock value. We are meant to stare, wide-eyed, wondering is Price really going to go that far? while in the back of our minds knowing of course he's not, because he's our hero. He's just doing whatever it takes. The family is not meant to be anything other than fodder for Price's characterization.

Same with Samara. We are not supposed to care all that much about her, personally--we're supposed to marvel over Makarov's canny brutality, his bRiLLiANcE in recognizing the obvious fact that an Arab woman would make a perfect scapegoat for a plane bombing. Samara does not matter to MW3. Only the shocking way she dies. None of these Arab characters matter to Call of Duty--only the entertainment value of their pain.

Not to put too fine a point on it, but I am reminded of when Price threw a man restrained into a bomb jacket off a balcony, with not a shred of remorse afterword. I'm forced to ask the question--who would Price scapegoat, then, if he felt justified enough?

And yeah, he's never going to suffer the consequences of his actions, because Infinity Ward doesn't think he's actually done anything wrong. We throw the word propaganda around a lot without actually defining it, but Price is emblematic of how the propaganda of Call of Duty works. Price does something reprehensible, and is shown to be justified in doing it--implying that real men like him are justified, too, because don't you understand how little choice Price had? Don't you get that there's no good choice to be made? This is how he has to act, and this is how all soldiers have to act, because war is a dirty business, and someone needs to be willing to do it for the benefit of the ignorant public.

The question of why any of this should be happening at all is never asked.

#answered

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fartlovingblkguy69 · 4 months

Text

The Little Men’s Toilet Slave Part 2

And with that he turned around and I got to see the most magnificent ass. It was big and round, muscular with a nice layer of fat and hairy as fuck! I’ve never seen an ass so hairy before! This is the type of ass that I ordinarily would have wanted to bury my face deep in and rim for hours but given what I knew was about to happen I wanted to throw up! This was made worse by the fact that when he bent over teasingly, I was assaulted by a smell akin to hot sewage mixed with garlic and there were stains and dingleberries all throughout his filthy forest of a crack. As he backed up to my face he reached back and further spread his cheeks allowing me to see his hole underneath a thick ring of fur and his hole opened and pushed out, releasing a nasty sbd before slamming his hole down on my nose. Fssssssssshhhhhhhhhhhhh “Ah, I need to get rid of some more gas before I open the flood gates or else I’ll drown our new toilet bitch and then he’ll be no use to anyone! Let me see the footage we’ve shot so far while I relieve myself!” he said rubbing his aching, bloated stomach. He sat there farting away with his filthy hair hole sucking my nose in and constantly dripping a sample of the sludge that was about to fill my mouth into my nostrils. It was getting harder with each fart for him not shit all over me. I could tell, but he wanted to drag this out as long as possible and to be quite frank I was in no hurry to get to the main even myself. Finally after half an hour he slowly stood up and groaned “Open your mouth toilet! It’s time! I really can’t hold it anymore! If I smell or spill any of this I swear to God I’m gonna vomit all over your cute face and i don’t want that so after I make you swallow I’ll let Josh (the hot asf blond guy from earlier) and his boys stomp the fuck out of you! This can go easy or it can be extremely painful! Your choice!” He gently patted my stomach and started to sit back down. I reluctantly opened my mouth and watched in horror as before he was even seated his hole seemed to spasm and out pushed the biggest pile of slop I’ve ever seen! It was soft, lumpy shit, not quite liquid, but definitely nowhere near solid and it stunk like rotten eggs that had been left under the burning sun for days! It quickly filled my mouth and with much effort Kyle managed to pull his hairy hole shut. “Hurry up and swallow that! There’s so much more inside me and I will let it out all over your face if I have to! Don’t chew, just swallow! You can savor my shit another time! I’m in too much pain right now!” I struggled to swallow, my throat burning and closing, gagging and trying not explosively throw up the toxic waste that was in my mouth and nostrils and felt like it was penetrating every part of my being. He slapped my stomach and said “Round 2! Here it comes in 5 seconds and remember what happens if it doesn’t end up in your mouth!” I hurriedly swallowed and opened my mouth right as the next blast came bursting out. This continued for 6 mouthfuls over the course of the next 40 minutes with many wet farts in between each torrent of loose, sludgy shit. Finally he exclaimed “Damn that felt great to let out! I can’t believe how much better I feel! You can’t imagine how much pain I was in! Now lick me clean!” as I sat there and thought to myself, You were in pain? What about me you piece of shit! You narcissistic asshole! What the hell is wrong with you? But I knew better than to say any of that so I just lay there licking his entire crack clean in silence before moving to his disgusting hole. He smiled down at me and affectionately rubbed my very full, very bloated belly. “I think you deserve a reward for being such a good helper! I can’t wait to give it to you later! I think you’ll like it! In the meantime I gotta get back to filming! Anyone else need a bathroom break with the new toilet?” Of course there stood Josh with an evil smirk on his face. Here we go again! (To Be Continued)

#gay shit #face farts #hairy male #human toilet #gassy farts #im lactose intolerant #fart kink #male farts

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juicycoutureheaux · 10 months

Text

Fixer Upper

This is an AU with sheriff!Leon x innocent!farm girl reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

I usually don’t write for Leon, but I felt inspired to write after a work inspired by Lol I felt like the story idea was fitting for his character. This is set in another time, around the 1950s, so there will be some sensitive topics that my personal values DO NOT align with. We can’t change the past but we can change the future, I will put TW but if I miss anything please let me know, I would love to be accommodating. Let me know what y’all think if it’s good enough to be a series or if I should even want to entertain the idea.

This fic was inspired by a new friend who I have been so excited to be able to get to know over a short period of time. thank you for everything @heavennights , you're an amazing human.

Y/N wiped the sweat from her brow as she leaned over the truck’s steaming engine.

It was her daddy’s old Ford truck and she wasn’t even supposed to take it out this long. She cursed herself for not bringing her tool set, but she didn’t anticipate the truck to get overheated so quickly either.

You wanted to cry, you were dreading the tongue-lashing you’d get from your daddy when you got home. Y/N had just turned 18 earlier that month, right before she graduated high school.

You wanted to go to college,learn about space, and how to get there; but mama & daddy said it was a waste of time, they would never let a woman work at NACA; no matter how hard she tried.

Instead, Daddy had pulled in a favor from one of his childhood friends that worked at the police station and got you a job there as a secretary. Daddy prayed that Y/N would settle down with a good man that could take care of you. The farm was going to be passed down to your older brother, Hank.

Hank was already married with a child on the way. His wife, Mary-Anne, was one of your only friends. She was two years older than you but they genuinely enjoyed each other’s company.

You were deep in thought when you heard tires coming down the dirt road. She turned around and saw the flashing lights coming from the vehicle's top.

When the vehicle came to a stop, you realized you hadn’t recognized the man getting out of the front seat. You couldn’t help but stiffen up at the stranger and felt a cold shiver down your spine despite it being close to 90 degrees outside.

You couldn’t deny the man was handsome; his clear skin was complemented by his stormy blue eyes. His features mirrored the men in the magazines, his hair longer in the front and slicked to the side. His official Springfield County Name tag read “Deputy Kennedy.”

You must have been staring too long because he smirked at you playfully. It made you blush.

“Looks like you have a dilemma here, darlin.” He said, his voice lacking the southern accent most people had in this area.

“Oh…uhm…” you said timidly looking at the broken down truck. You were sure you had never seen this man before despite working for the local police force. She knew the sheriff's position had opened up but didn’t realize they had someone in mind since Chuck DuBois had resigned.

“You’re not in trouble, sweetheart. I’m here to help.” He smiled a toothy smile at you.

You couldn’t help but return it meekly. “I was trying to get home, but my engine overheated,” you said, trying to choke back tears. “I can walk up the road to Parker’s Gas station and call my daddy, I don't want to waste your time.

The man looked at you shocked. “In this heat, sweetheart? You might as well call the coroner now.”

It was a hot day, and your hairline growing damper by the second.

“Let me take you home, I’m sure we can get your daddy out here and we can fix the truck for you.” He opened the passenger door for you and you gladly accepted.

“Deputy Kennedy” cranked the car and the radio blared to life playing “I Walk the Line” by Johnny Cash.

He extended his hand to you. “I realized I didn’t introduce myself; I’m Kennedy, Deputy Leon Kennedy,” he eyed you up and down absentmindedly. “And you are…?”

You blinked. “Oh, I’m, “Y/F/N, Y/L/N.”

Leon looked at you for a minute, before he asked, “That last name, is your father Farmer L/N?”

You shook your head.

Leon smiled at you brightly. “So you’re my new secretary! Damn, this town is really tiny!” He laughed.

You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. What were the chances?

You decided to be brave and get to know your new boss.

“Where are you from?”

“I’m actually from Colorado, but I moved to Georgia about a year ago.”

“That’s really neat.” You said meekly, not quite sure how else to respond.

“I guess, have you ever been?”

You shook your head, “I’ve never been out of the South, but I would like to ride on an airplane one day!” You said excitedly.

His handsome features turned into a genuine smile. “I know you will, Y/N.”

You blushed and they rode together in comfortable silence until his car pulled down the long driveway of the farmhouse.

Y/N’s father and mother were waiting for her outside the farmhouse. You gulped and suddenly felt like a small child.

Leon let out a deep whistle. “Looks like they’ve been waiting for you.”

He exited the car, waved in the direction of her parents, and opened the door for her.

She hesitantly got out and walked up to the house. Y/N’s father was the first to talk.

“Where the hell have you been?” He looked at Leon. “And why the hell are you wasting the deputy’s time to escort you home? Why didn’t you call?” He raised his voice.

You were scared to answer, you were shaking and very upset to get the courage to speak.

“Sir, I insisted that she ride with me. The truck she was driving had broken down and she wanted to call, I felt that it would be more efficient to just take her home.”

Y/N’s father’s glare softened. “If you insisted,” was all the rugged farmer could say.

Your mother grabbed you to take you inside, but you resisted slightly, thanking Leon for his Kindness instead.

He tipped his hat, “No need to thank me, miss.” he said genuinely, “I look forward to seeing you tomorrow morning at the station.”

He walked back to the patrol car and drove away, the dust from the unpaved driveway following him.

Your mother wasted no time in pulling you harder than before, into the farmhouse.

“Y/n!” she scolded. “What were you doing accepting a ride from a man you had never met before? I hope Patrick’s parents don’t hear about it!”

You cringed. You were so taken up with Deputy Kennedy’s kindness, you had completely forgotten that your parents had set you up with someone else.

Patrick was a young, college-educated fellow whose parents were influential in not just your town, but the entire southeast. Your mother was absolutely delighted when his mother, Suzanne approached her in church one Sunday and suggested setting you and Patrick up.

According to Suzanne, you were a charming match for her son, you had no reputation of being “fast” and came from a good god-fearing family.

You had never interacted with Patrick before, despite your brother Hank having gone to school with him. When you asked Hank about Patrick, Hank scoffed. “That guy is known for being a candy-ass, but popular with the ladies. He was always playing backseat bingo with some floozy.”

“Mama and Daddy want to set me up with him.” She confessed to Hank. “Miss Suzanne insisted we meet.”

“You’ve got to be kidding, they’re that desperate to get you off the farm? I knew you were talking about that NACA stuff, but I didn’t think they were listening.” He said bluntly.

“What are you talking about?”

“They don’t want you going to college, Y/N. They want you close to home, that space shit, its just a bunch of bullshit.”

Y/N felt her ears get hot. Sure, she wasn’t the smartest, but she had won the Science Fair three years in a row, all of her projects inspired by NACA. She was interested in how intricate mathematical equations could put men into space.

“It's not bullshit.” She said quietly.

“I know it's not bullshit to you, Y/N; but people around here, they don't know the difference.”

She decided to end the conversation and head up to her room after that.

The next day she was dressed in her Sunday best waiting in the Armstrong family’s Parlor. It would be her first time meeting Patrick. He came strolling in, dressed in preppy casual attire, oblivious of his surroundings.

She rose to meet him. “Oh, darlin’ don’t you get out of that chair, I didn’t think you’d be here so soon.” You blushed at him calling you a pet name so quickly.

“I apologize, I didn’t know what to expect.”

“You’re too polite! I know why my mother had such an interest in you.” He said proudly.

You analyzed his features, his eyes were dark but expressive; his windblown hair had soft curls. You thought he was quite handsome, no wonder Hank had mentioned him being so popular with the girls.

He sat down next to you, smelling of aftershave. You were enamored with him already, none of the boys at school ever paid you any mind. You could have never imagined holding a princely character such as Patrick’s undivided attention.

As you two were starting to engage in casual conversation, an older woman in a maid’s uniform brought in a tray of iced tea & other refreshments.

“Thank you, Lavinia.” Patrick said passively.

Lavinia just bowed silently and hurried out of the room quietly.

You had never been served by anyone before. You were so shocked you couldn’t even focus on the fact that Patrick was eyeing you carefully.

“Sooo, what do you do in your spare time y/n? Surely you don’t spend all your time entertaining farm animals all day.”

That last part of the statement caught you off guard. Is that all he thought of you as? A simple farmer’s daughter?

You laughed awkwardly. The laugh was more for Patrick’s comfort as he was obviously proud of his poor attempt at humor.

“I enjoy reading to the animals,” you said sarcastically. You looked as Patrick’s handsome features contorted into an expression between confusion and genuine concern.

“That was a joke,” you rushed to say. “I enjoy reading, but obviously to myself.”

Patrick’s face relaxed, relief spreading over his features. “Oh, that's neat! What do you like to read?”

“Ray Bradbury, The Martian Chronicles is one of my favorite books.”

Patrick looked at you, the confused look coming back to his face. “That's…interesting.” He said, trying to be polite.

“What do you like to do?” You tried to direct the conversation to himself.

You quickly learned Patrick loved to talk about himself, he couldn’t stop talking about his various “Achievements”.

You listened patiently, thankful that he probably wouldn’t ask you any more questions about yourself; you didn’t want to embarrass yourself further.

After he listed off his various conquests of sailing and horseback riding, he began to scoot closer to you.

“I think this has been a wonderful meeting, mother was right, you are quite beautiful.” He said, brushing stray hair behind your ear.

You blushed, you had never been touched like that.

“Do you think we could meet again next week? I would love to take you out.”

You nodded enthusiastically.

“Wonderful!” He checked his wristwatch. “It looks like it’s getting late, would you like me to take you home?”

You looked at him hesitantly, you were unsure about having another man drive you home.

“Don’t worry,” he said, an almost devious look shone through his eyes, “I don’t bite.”

You reluctantly agreed and soon you were in his 1956 Red Corvette. It was a sporty thing, he insisted riding with the ragtop down. He handed you a pair of sunglasses that were hiding in the glove compartment.

“You’ll need these.” He said as he put his own pair over his eyes.

He looked perfect. How could he be anything less? His life was absolutely charmed. You wondered if he ever felt out of place, of course not.

As the two of you were riding in the car, he moved his hand closer to you, slowly and put it on your knee.

You felt butterflies in your stomach, completely overwhelmed by all the new sensation. Wind blowing your hair violently, the scent of summer and Patrick’s warm large hand on your bare knee.

The ride was over too soon for your liking. You handed the sunglasses back to him.

“Keep ‘em sweetheart. You’ll need them again when I pick you up next time.” He winked at you.

You felt like your knees were going to turn to liquid and you felt like you couldn’t move.

He leaned over and gave you a peck on your cheek and you almost fell over.

You quickly gathered your things.

“T-thank you for your time. It was really nice!” You stuttered out.

“Anytime Sweetheart.”

When you got to the door safely and waved goodbye he started the car and rolled away.

You would be dreaming of this moment for a while.

#resident evil fanfiction #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon kennedy #resident evil #alternate universe #fanfiction

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spicybutterfly · 10 months

Text

Lilac

Summary: On your way to your nail appointment, you run into the cutest, yet strangest boy you’ve ever met.

Pairing: nonidol!Jimin x fem!reader

Genre: Strangers to lovers, Romance, Fluff, Non-Idol AU

Rating: 18+, MINORS DNI!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Explicit language, Nonconsensual grabbing (Jimin has no sense of personal space)

A/N: Hi everybody, it’s been a while! I wanted to put this out way earlier but I’ve been stupid busy with work and school so yeah, here it is halfway into the year loll. I proofread this myself so please excuse any mistakes. Also, I made this banner and I think it looks pretty good for my first time so please be nice or else I’ll cry ☉ᴗ☉

*Disclaimer all characters and events portrayed in my works are fictitious. Any similarity to actual persona or events is purely coincidental.*

Thank you for reading!♡

─────•◦❥•◦─────

It is 12:02 p.m. and you had thirteen minutes to make it to the nail salon for your scheduled appointment. Anxiously, you drummed your fingers against your steering wheel, nibbling at your bottom lip. This red light felt like it had been going on forever. You swear at least three songs have played over the radio already and you still had at least five more minutes to drive before you made it to Luxe Lacquer Nail Lounge.

You weren’t too picky about your appointment time. A spot during the weekend was preferable, but if that wasn’t available any time after you got off of work would do. Unfortunately, neither of those two options was available to you. For some reason, your go to nail salon was virtually booked out for the next two weeks. Of course with your luck, the only spot they did have available was the most inconvenient to you. Twelve-fifteen on a Wednesday afternoon.

Typically, on a Wednesday at noon, you’d be at work, hunched over typing away at your computer. The only possible way for you to make it to your appointment would be to go during your lunch break. Thankfully, they lasted an hour and your boss wasn’t too finicky about when you took them, as long as it wasn’t too early or too late in your work day.

You couldn’t afford to miss this appointment. It had been practically a month since the last time you’d gotten your nails done and showed. You weren’t high maintenance per se, but keeping up your appearance was important and these nails simply were not it. Your cuticles were an atrocious sight, overgrown and brittle. The once neatly painted gel polish has lost its shine, now dull and chipping around the edges. Don’t even get me started on your shape, formerly a perfect square, straight across the top with sharp edges, now sported a rounded and blunt look. Your nails were in dire need of some TLC.

“Finally,” you sighed out, pressing on the gas pedal as the light turned green. Briskly, you glanced over at the digital clock in your dashboard.

12:03, twelve minutes left.

Steadily, you continued your journey on the road trying your absolute hardest not to go over the speed limit. If you did happen to go over a mile or two, no one noticed. After three more excruciatingly long minutes, you eventually pulled into the plaza’s parking lot.

The area was buzzing with people of all kinds. A group of people dining outside of a restaurant, young adults coming in and out of the grocery store, an elderly couple sharing an ice cream sundae, and a dad pushing his baby through the parking lot in a stroller.

“Come on, come on,” you mumbled, roaming around for a space.

Just ahead a black Chevy Silverado began to back out of its spot. A glimmer of hope spread throughout you as it seemed you were the first and only one to notice and would finally be able to park. Plus it was only two shops down from the salon! You pulled in behind them, giving them enough space to back out but at the same time showing them you were ready to move in.

Just as they were almost completely backed out, you noticed just across from you an elderly woman driving an older Toyota Avalon. Through your windshield you could see how intently she was starting at your parking spot, inching forward as the Chevy rolled out.

“Oh hell no!” you protested. This old lady was trying to steal your spot. Not today.

As soon as the Chevy was clear out of your way, you jerked your wheel to the left, simultaneously pressing firmly on the gas pedal. Your car swerved into the space before the old woman could even take her foot off the brakes.

With squinted eyes, you watched as she begrudgingly drove away, flipping you the bird through her passenger window.

You scuffed. The nerve of some people.

After putting the gear into park, you shifted the key turning your car off before removing it completely. Snatching your purse from your passenger seat, you swung your driver’s side car door open, at last stepping out onto the concrete.

The heat from the blazing sun warmed your skin instantly. Being blasted by the cool air from your car vents almost made you forget you were in the middle of summer. Internally, you thanked your past self for deciding to wear a flowy dress today instead of slacks.

12:10, five minutes left.

If speedwalking in backless platform sandals were an Olympic sport, you'd be a gold medalist. You had no idea you could even move this fast. Rushing down the walkway, you dodged between the people crowding your path. Who knew it would be so jam-packed on a Wednesday afternoon?

Relief immediately rushed through your body as the sight of the salon came into view. You made it with four minutes to spare.

Just as you were about to enter the salon, your hand on the door handle, you felt a light tap on your shoulder.

“Um, excuse me?” a smooth voice rang out.

With your hand still gripping the door handle you turned to face the stranger.

Before you was a man, but not just any man. He may honestly be the most beautiful man, or better yet, person you’ve ever seen.

He looked around your age, maybe a couple of years older. Dressed in a cool-toned brown sweater and black slacks, he stood tall with quite impressive posture. Thick, fluffy black hair sat atop his head. A few strands lay delicately on his blemish-free forehead. Silver jewelry decorated his skin. His ears sported a pair of simple hoops dangling with every head movement. On his neck was a dainty chain necklace, it looked like it belonged to a designer brand. What caught your attention the most was the many rings that adorned his fingers. They shined prettily in the sunlight.

The only way for you to describe his face was that of a fairytale prince. His eyes were tender and kind, a complete contrast to his sharp eyebrows but they paired well together. You wondered if he routinely got them threaded. His cheeks were round and breadlike, making you want to reach out and squish them against your better judgment. And don’t even get you started on his lips. They were the softest, plumpest pair of lips you’ve ever seen. You just know he goes through tubes and tubes of chapstick frequently.

He smiled gently at you when your eyes finally met. Your heart fluttered. Whatever this guy was trying to sell, you just might have to buy.

“Hi, I’m sorry to disturb you but I-” With a voice as warm as his you could listen to him speak all day. But you were on a time crunch and now had three minutes before you had to go in for your appointment.

“Ahh, actually,” you interrupted wincing slightly. “I’m kinda in the middle of something. So if you’ll excuse me.” You turned away again, this time slightly opening the door.

This time you felt him grip your free hand, intertwining your fingers with his.“Oh! This’ll only take a second I promise.”

“What the hell!” you yelled, snatching your hand away with a quickness, spinning on your heels to face him again. Straight away this garnered the attention of a few strangers, looking nosily to see what was happening.

“What is your problem?! I’m not interested in whatever you’re trying to sell!” You don’t care how attractive this man is, he’s definitely lost his mind.

He seemed surprised by his actions, staring back at you in shock with both eyes wide open. “I’m so sorry!” he rushed, waving his hands out in front of him. “I’m not trying to sell you anything, I swear! I just wanted to tell you that I thought you were gorgeous and that your hair looked beautiful! I never meant to offend you, really!”

He was a stranger to you. It was absolutely inappropriate of him to grab your hand without your permission. You had no obligation to believe a word he said. But there was just something about the sincerity in his voice that made it difficult for you to harbor any lingering anger. As crazy as it sounds he seemed genuine and you believed him.

“Oh,” you muttered, calmer now. “Still you can’t just grab people you don’t know, it's rude. And thank you.” You avoided his eyes, instead focusing on the loose thread at the bottom of his sweater.

“Again, I’m sorry. My friends remind me all the time about how handsy I can be. I’m working on it. And, you’re welcome.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I’m Jimin,” the man, or Jimin grinned, sticking his hand out towards you to shake. You looked at his hand before looking at his face. His eyes were nearly completely shut with how hard he was smiling. It was insanely endearing.

You replied with your name, shaking his hand in return. The softness of his skin didn’t surprise you at all, you could tell he took good care of himself

“Going to get your nails done?” Jimin questioned, nodding his head towards the salon.

“Mhmm,” you confirmed, looking at your hand as you inspected your overgrown nails. “I’m in need of a long overdue manicure. I actually have to go in for my appointment in about-” You looked at your wristwatch. “Two minutes.”

“Have you decided on a color yet?”

“Not yet. I was thinking of maybe getting-” You cut yourself off at the feeling of Jimin taking your hand in his once again. Ignoring the butterflies that instantly fluttered through you, you watched as he brought your hand in front of his face. You almost giggled aloud at the vision before you. He looked like a mad scientist, examining your hand that close to his face.

“You really do have no sense of personal space, huh?”

“I think you should get…” he paused for a moment thinking to himself. “Purple.”

“Purple?”

“Mhm,” he confirmed, nodding. “But not just any purple. Maybe a pastel purple? Like ..lilac! Yeah, lilac! I think that would look really pretty against your skin.” With a satisfied smile, gently, he let your hand fall back to its previous position.

You felt your whole body flush with warmth. You know if you were lighter you’d definitely be blushing all over. Thank goddess for your brown skin.

To mask your shyness, you grabbed your phone out of your purse checking the time. Yeah, you were wearing a watch but you needed to look away from him before you exploded. 12:16. Oh shit!

“I’m late!” you shrieked, turning back towards the salon. “It was nice meeting you, Jimin, but I gotta go.” It was really nice talking to Jimin, but you weren’t missing this appointment for anyone.

“Wait!” He called, coming up beside you.

“You should send me a picture.” You raised an eyebrow.

“Of your nails! You should send me a picture of your nails when they’re done, I mean. You know because I suggested the color. But only if you want to, of course, no pressure!”

Jimin twisted the ring on his left pointer finger, awaiting your answer. You thought his sudden nervousness was sweet.

Usually, it would take a lot more for you to give your number out. Especially to a random stranger you’d only met and known for a couple of minutes. You’d seen too many true crime documentaries for that. But Jimin raised no red flags to you. Sure he was a little weird and awkward but he was also sweet and charming. To be quite honest you enjoyed spending these past few minutes with him, and you wouldn’t mind seeing him again.

“What’s your number?” you smiled unlocking your phone. Jimin grinned again, eyes nearly shut and cheeks raised high, before reciting his number to you.

─────•◦❥•◦─────

You were so damn lucky you had history with your nail tech, Sandra, or else you would’ve been out of luck. You didn’t make it to your appointment on time, in fact, you were three minutes late. It may or may not have something to do with you and Jimin giggling over which photo to use as his contact picture in your phone.

The pure look of irritation on Sandra’s face when you finally did make it inside the salon to check in at the front desk nearly made you visibly wince. You knew you were being an inconvenience, coming in late even though you were standing right outside of the salon. But c'mon, you were only three minutes late! It’s not like you arrived an hour later or no called no showed. Still though, it was rude of you and you made sure to apologize and leave her a hefty tip for being a bother.

Back in the front seat of your car, you admired your nails. No matter how irritated your Sandra was, she still killed this set! You opted for your usual square shape, you couldn’t see yourself veering away from it, it just had such a polished look. For your nail color, you were stuck between three shades of purple that could be considered lilac. Instead of wrecking your brain, you sent a picture to Jimin letting him pick the shade closest to the one he envisioned and he did not disappoint. Delicate yet bold, the lilac complimented your skin tone perfectly. You’re not sure if this was a color you would’ve ever chosen on your own and you’re so glad Jimin suggested it for you. They were simple but cute and you loved them!

Posing your left hand you snapped a quick pic of your new nails before sending it over to Jimin.

Cute?

He responded almost instantly.

Jimin (◠‿◠)

Very! See, I told you it would look good :))

Whatever lol, I guess you did an ok job.

Jimin (◠‿◠)

I think what you meant to say was. Thank you so much, Jimin!

You rolled your eyes before responding.

Thank you, Jimin. I don’t know what I would’ve done without you! You are truly god sent!

Just then your phone began to vibrate, Jimin’s contact and goofy contact picture popped up on your screen. You clicked the answer button before it could ring a second time.

“You’re so very welcome, _____! I’m glad I could be of assistance to you!” Though you couldn’t see his face, the smile was present in his voice. You laughed aloud, thinking of a response. You definitely didn’t want this to be your last time speaking to Jimin. There was an obvious connection between you and it would be silly of you not to explore it. Hopefully, you weren’t reading the situation wrong and he was just as interested in you as you were in him.

“Hey, um, what are you doing later today, around let’s say 5:30-ish? My appointment took a little longer than expected so I can’t pick up any lunch and I was wondering if you would like to try that new pizzeria downtown with me?” you asked, heart hammering in your chest. You felt like a teenager talking to her crush for the first time. It’s been a while since you’ve done something like this. You’ve been so focused on work recently, hardly allowing yourself any free time. Dating just wasn’t at the forefront of your mind.

Restlessly, you drummed your fingers against your steering wheel awaiting his answer.

Jimin hummed as he thought. “Are you asking me out on a date?”

Oh shit.“Huh!? A date! I wa- uh I mean-” “Because if you are,” Jimin interrupted, ceasing your rambling. “Then I would say yes. I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Yeah?” you beamed.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “You actually beat me to it. I wanted to ask you out for ice cream after your appointment.”

“Oh!” you voiced. “Well, we can always go after the pizza?”

“I'd like that.”

“Okay! Cool,” you grimaced at your response. Gosh, why were you so nervous?

“Cool,” he giggled. “I’ll see you there, then?”

“Yeah, I’ll see you there,” you smiled, giddy all over. Bringing your phone from your ear, you pressed the end call button. It took a moment for the realization to set in. Did that really just happen? Before you knew it an elated squeal escaped your lips. Nerves now replaced with excitement, you began your journey back to work, eagerly looking forward to your date with Jimin.

─────•◦❥•◦─────

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#park jimin #jimin fanfic #jimin x black reader #jimin x reader #jimin fluff #black reader #bts x black reader #bts x reader #bts fanfic #bts fluff

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