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m00nlight-ramblings · 2 months

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Touch Me

Repulsed by touch due to years of trauma, Astarion now wears gloves in his every day life. But once he starts to adventure with you, he slowly starts to rebuild his trust in others, when one night, he can't bare to not touch you any longer.

Pairings: Astarion x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, p in v, oral sex (female receiving), rough sex, light discussion of trauma, swearing, fluff. 18+ MINORS DNI

Word Count: 4.5k

Requested: yes

A/N: Okay so I got carried away with this one lol. Happy to be back writing some good ole BG3 smut teehee. Graphic made by me, I don't give permission for my work (graphic or writing) to be shared without my consent.

You hadn’t really noticed Astarion’s gloves before, for the first few days of adventuring. You figured that they were just for defense, to help keep his body safe in combat along the journey. You were also far too busy trying to figure out the whole tadpole-in-your-brain problem, along with the myriad of enemies seemingly popping out of nowhere, to be concerned with your camp companions’ fashion senses.

But one evening, when you were headed to the nearby creek to quickly wash yourself in a moment of calm, you stumbled upon a rock, covered in familiar looking clothing.

Astarion’s clothing.

His gloves laid on top of the bundle of clothes, the brown leather muted in the soft moonlight. You paused for a moment and turned to look out into the deep creek, and not even five feet away, Astarion stood.

You realized he was fully nude so you shrieked and turned around. “Sorry! I didn’t realize you were here!” You apologized profusely. You heard Astarion gasp behind you and the motion of water, feet padding over to the rock. Clothes started to shuffle and you heard Astarion murmur under his breath.

“…completely nude, as if my clothes on the rock weren’t a dead giveaway that I would be naked! Trying to bathe and have peace and quiet for one second this entire journey…”

“Look, I said I was sorry-” Without thinking you turned, but luckily Astarion was fully clothed, except for his gloves. He seemed more concerned with fixing his outfit than what you were saying, so you gently reached out to touch his wrist to get his attention. “I didn’t mean to, and I didn’t see anything, anyway-”

The second your fingers touched Astarion’s wrist, he shouted, ripping his arm back as if you had just shocked him.

“Don’t touch me!” He bellowed, his voice dark. It scared you for a moment and you stood absolutely still, silence hanging between you. Astarion didn’t even look at you, just down at his wrist, as if he had been burned.

“What…I’m sorry? Did something happen-”

“Just…don’t touch me,” His cool demeanor was back as he gracefully slid the gloves on, “Alright? Just…don’t.” He had finally looked up at you, his ruby eyes shimmering. His expression was unreadable, but you nodded slowly.

“Alright…I won’t.”

You stared at him for a bit longer, trying to understand what was going on in his head. Was it…fear? Rage? You weren’t quite sure…all you knew was that without meaning to, you had somehow crossed a boundary with Astarion, who was already like a vault.

Without another word, Astarion walked back to camp. You sighed heavily and eventually bathed, but the entire encounter was so odd that you didn’t quite know how to move forward with it.

The next morning, while the sun was still rising, Astarion found you by the campfire as you cooked your breakfast. Uncomfortably clearing his throat behind you, he seemed a bit sheepish. Wringing his wrists (clad in the gloves), he shifted the weight on his feet in his graceful, Astarion way.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” He asked. Nodding, you stood, wiping off your pants. Astarion stared at you for a minute, his eyes darting back and forth between yours. It was increasingly apparent that he didn’t know how to start the conversation, but you waited patiently, afraid you’d somehow set him off again.

“I…want to apologize for last night,” He eventually said, “The whole…situation…with my gloves, I mean. I…” He sighed, searching for words, “I have a hard time with touch. I have for a bit…because of my past with Cazador. When I woke up, thrown from that Nautiloid, I realized gloves made me feel better because I technically don’t have to touch someone when I…well, when I touch them. And since I was no longer under Cazador’s thumb, I snagged the first pair I could find off of…well…some poor dead body on the beach and it’s been better ever since.”

Taking in what he was saying, you nodded, staying quiet. “So…you wear gloves. Because you don’t like touch.”

“Quite frankly, I’m repulsed by touch,” He calmly replied, throwing a hand back, “200 years in a body that I had no control over will do that to you, I suppose.”

“Okay. That makes sense.” You said plainly, forking a piece of pork belly into your mouth.

Astarion tilted his head, confused. “It does?”

“Yes. I mean…I believe you, and everything.”

“You do.” He stated, but it sounded like more of a question, like he didn’t understand.

Shrugging, you nodded, “Cazador forced you to use your body against your will to do his tidings, and now that you have the ability to act for your own for the first time in a very long time, you realize that there are boundaries that make you feel more comfortable. It makes perfect sense.”

Astarion opened his mouth to say something, but immediately shut it. “Well…look at you. Knowing so much about me.”

“That’s what friends are for,” You smiled and pat his shoulder gently, “Thank you for sharing that with me. I understand…and will be aware of it.” You go to walk away, but turn and look at Astarion, “I know what you’ve been through was unbelievably awful, so you don’t have to…but if you ever feel the need to talk to someone about it, I’m here for you.”

Astarion stood, frozen. He nodded so small that if you weren’t paying attention, you would’ve missed it.

“Thank you.” He eventually said, his voice barely above a whisper. His eyes were locked on the ground. In a flash, he was striding towards his tent, his hands behind his back, as if the conversation never happened. Watching him walk to his tent, you shook his head.

You knew Astarion was full of secrets, but you weren’t quite sure how deep those secrets went.

The following weeks had tore through your body harder than any training you had been through. Every night when you went to bed, it seemed like a body part you didn’t even know you had was aching.

Currently, you were a little way away from camp, leaning against a tree, trying to get any semblance of reprieve that you could. Your eyes were closed, but you were nowhere near sleep, as the crickets chirped around you.

“Darling?” Astarion’s voice called out gently. You waved your hand in the air so he could track you down.

“Over here.” You mumbled, your arm feeling like it was 600 pounds. You brought it back down to your side and sighed heavily. Suddenly, you smelled chicken. Opening your eyes slowly, you saw a plate of food in front of you. You followed the arm holding the food and saw that Astarion had knelt beside you, presenting the food.

“Dinner,” He spoke plainly, “Gale just finished cooking. I thought you could use some help since your ass was devilishly kicked by those goblins earlier today, so I brought dinner to you while you were resting.” He smirked as you took the plate of food, barking out a laugh.

“Funny that you just had to bring up the fact that I didn’t perform my best today.” You started to slowly bring the food to your mouth, the taste melting on your tongue. You moaned softly in pleasure – he never shut up, but gods, Gale cooked a good meal.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t perform my best, either.” Astarion sat beside you now, his back resting against the large tree. He sighed as well, leaning his head back.

In the past few weeks, ever since the evening you had accidentally touched his wrist, you two had become closer. You were the only one to know his secret, a vulnerable piece of the Astarion puzzle. He trusted you to keep his secrets safe, and you did – like you had said, that’s what friends were for.

You ate in a comfortable silence as Astarion stared up at the moon, his face gleaming in the soft glow. Though you two were friends, he was undeniably handsome – you found yourself looking at him longer than necessary, butterflies popping up in your stomach when he would come into your tent to just converse, or when he was next to you in battle. You didn’t know when it started to change, but slowly, your feelings had deepened, which scared the shit out of you. Even now, with no words exchanged, your head felt light as he sat beside you, his familiar scent comforting you.

“Beautiful moon out tonight.” Astarion commented softly. You murmured in agreement, placing the plate and fork next to you now that you were done eating.

“Were you able to hunt tonight?” You asked Astarion.

He chuckled, “Always looking out for me,” He spoke gently. He then turned to look at you, his face soft, “Yes. I did…earlier. Thank you for your concern.”

You laughed softly and shrugged, even though it took all of your effort. You closed your eyes again, “You know me. I need to make sure everyone eats, even if your version of eating is slurping up some boar blood somewhere-”

Suddenly, your hand felt like it was enveloped, and chilled to the bone. Your eyes sprung open and you looked down. Astarion was holding your hand in your lap.

Without his glove.

Your mouth parted in surprise as you looked at him in shock. “Astarion-”

“I know.” He interrupted, smiling proudly.

“You’re…holding my hand.”

“I know.”

“Without your glove!”

“I know.”

You smiled back at him. Both of you sat there in silence, smiling at each other like two goons. You didn’t know what to say, so you started to stutter.

“But…how? When? You’re…feeling-”

“Not with everyone,” He said, “But with you…it’s different. I went to bed last night, thinking about how I wanted to…feel you. Touch you. Really feel you…hold your hand. With mine. Skin on skin,” Suddenly, he turned sheepish and looked down, “I hope you don’t mind?”

“Mind?!” You sat on your heels, gripping his hand tighter, “Of course I don’t! I’m…excited for you! Proud of you! Hells, I-”

Suddenly, Astarion’s lips were on yours. Cold, but gentle – he pressed lightly and pulled away almost as fast. As he pulled away, he looked at you, his eyes uncertain.

“I hope…you didn’t mind that, either.”

A deep blush grew on your cheeks as you smiled and shook your head, “Definitely didn’t mind that.” Your voice was low, quiet. You knew this moment, though on the outside seemed so insignificant, was a monumental moment for Astarion.

He smirked and nodded, “Good. Because when I was thinking about how I wanted to hold your hand, I was also thinking about how I wanted to kiss you, as well.”

You leaned into him and kissed him, pressing your lips on his a little firmer than last time. Smiling, you pulled away slightly, “I like when you think like that.”

Astarion chuckled, his bare hand moving up the sleeve of your blouse, “Good to know. I’ll have to keep that mind next time I start thinking.”

The Shadowlands had boasted not only the worst atmosphere you had ever experienced, but also the worst sounds to ever grace your ears. It seemed like every time you heard a bird squawk, or a bush rustle, you jumped 10 feet in the air. You were thankful that you had Astarion by your side at night, otherwise, you weren’t completely sure if you’d get any rest at all.

Your nights with Astarion could only be described as wholesome, for the most part. Though his gloves were now off in the presence of your tent – his comfortability of touching you without them pretty much 100% - he still couldn’t get past his history when it came to sex. The moaning in each other’s mouths as your tongues danced with each other only amplified how desperate you were for each other, but every time, it wasn’t right. And that was okay.

But gods, did you yearn for him in every way.

Astarion was currently holding you, as you read on your side. You could tell he was sneaking peeks at your book because every so often, there was a “humph” or gasp coming from his lips softly. And when you tried to turn the page too fast, Astarion would gently touch the corner of the book, preventing you from moving to the next page.

“I can let you borrow the book when I’m finished, you know.” You said, giggling in his arms. He smirked and kissed your neck, his breath hot in your ear.

“But isn’t this much more fun, darling?”

You dog-eared the page and put the book down, turning in Astarion’s arms so you were facing him. You gently placed your hands on his chest, looking up at him. Every time you touched him with skin-on-skin contact, you made sure he was comfortable. Astarion smiled and nodded, placing a peck on your forehead. Slowly, he kissed down your temple, to your cheek, and to your jawline. You sighed heavily, your arms wrapping around his neck. He hummed as he kissed along your jaw.

"Astarion..." You breathed. Your hands found their way into his hair, and when you started running your fingers through it, he moaned slightly.

Suddenly, gently, Astarion's cold hand had found it's way in between your legs, tentatively pressing against your clit through your underwear. You gasped at the sudden sensation, pulling back. Looking at him confused, he blushed slightly.

"I need you," He murmured quietly, brushing a lock of your hair back, "I need to feel you. All of you. I want to take you...desperately."

You smiled and slowly rolled your hips forward, towards his fingers. The pressure made you moan, and you tried your hardest to not roll your eyes back.

"Are you sure?"

Astarion nodded. His hand quickly pulled back and found it's way by his side, "But...I may...um..." His gaze followed where his gloves lay on the table near your bed. You followed his eyes, and looked at the gloves. You smiled and kissed him.

"Put them on."

"Are you sure? It's just that...well, I don't need them to touch you anymore, obviously, but when I think about making love, it can get overwhelming-"

"Astarion," You cut him off gently, staring into his eyes, "If you need to wear your gloves to feel comfortable making love to me, then you can wear 30,000 pairs at the same time. As long as you feel comfortable doing it," You kissed him quickly, "And can still take off my pants."

Astarion laughed and reached behind you, slipping the gloves on. His bashful look gave way to a smile, his eyes darkening in a way that you hadn't seen before. He enveloped you in a kiss, grabbing hold of your body around your waist.

"I am going to fuck you until you see stars." He grumbled, pressing his erection into you. Capturing your lips in a rough kiss, you moaned into it, the sudden portrayal of Astarion’s arousal sending heat to your belly. He gently guided you on your back as he straddled you, never breaking the kiss. Finally he leaned back, staring into your eyes.

He was truly a captivating sight - his fair, taught body seemed to glow in the light of your oil lamp. His eyes - usually a bright ruby - were now almost so dark they were onyx. He smiled at you, causing you to turn bashful under his gaze. You felt his hands make quick work of your pants, pushing them down to your ankles. You aided him by kicking them off your feet, your heart racing.

Was this finally happening - were you finally going to make love with Astarion? Your head swam as his gloved hands glided down your sides, taking in every inch of you. He shook his head, still smiling.

“You are the most beautiful sight I have ever seen.” He whispered, his eyes inching towards your (now soaking) center. Gracefully, he slid down the bed, not breaking eye contact with you. Achingly slow, he spread your legs. Settling on his belly, his head dipped to your core, his nose so close it tickled the hair that encased it.

“Astarion…” You murmured, your hand resting on his head. You watched him lick his lips before he lightly pressed his tongue to your clit, sending a wave of pleasure through your whole body. You physically felt like your senses were on overdrive - every muscle was tightened, anxiously awaiting his touch.

“You can’t rush perfection, darling,” He purred, one of his fingers finding their way to your clit. He gently rubbed the finger over your bulge, teasing you, the leather of the gloves an icy contrast to your growing heat. “I’m going to savor this moment. I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long.”

He was staring at you; a moment suspended in time. The only sound in the tent was your whimpers, trying to muffle it so the others didn’t hear you. Astarion’s signature smirk never left his mouth - he was the notorious tease, so why would he be any different in bed?

Suddenly, his tongue delved into you, immediately lapping up your juices, causing you to gasp in pleasure. Your hands found his head, desperate to grip anything in their path. Once you felt his hair you couldn’t help but give a tight tug, to which he groaned into your cunt, the vibrations driving you crazy.

“You like that, don’t you?” He teased, pulling back slightly to speak. He still smirked, his tongue softly darting back to your clit. You bit your lip and nodded, the only way you could currently respond without screaming in pleasure. He dove back in, sending waves of sensation through your body - the coil in your belly started to tighten as Astarion took your clit in his mouth, sucking gently.

Shifting your head to the side of the bed, you pressed your mouth into the pillow, yelping in pleasure. Suddenly, you felt the leather of Astarion’s glove grabbing your cheeks, forcing your head forward. When you opened your eyes you saw him hovering over you, body slightly raised from your pussy.

“Don’t,” He commanded, the other hand working circles on your clit, “I want everyone to hear. I want the whole world to hear how good I love you.”

“Astarion…” You whimpered, your voice trailing off as he was back in between your legs, licking you into another dimension. You did as you were told, your head lolling back on to the pillow so you were looking at the ceiling of your tent, your vision going fuzzy. Your orgasm was quickly approaching, your muscles so tight you felt like you had to jump out of your skin. You knew Astarion sensed it - he slipped one arm underneath you to give himself better leverage, and was now lapping at you roughly, hungrily.

“I-I…I’m going to come,” You breathed, your strength failing you to use your full voice. You looked down and saw Astarion smiling into your cunt, the vibrations on your clit causing your legs to shake around his head. He stared at you from his position, which was just the push your body needed to reach ecstasy.

Your orgasm washed over you as your back involuntarily arched, a hand gripping so hard on to Astarion’s head you’re surprised you didn’t hurt him. His voice was screamed from your lips - definitely heard by everyone in camp - and you couldn’t think of anything else as you saw stars. Your chest felt like it was on fire as you heaved, trying to get control of your breathing. Astarion lapped at you for a few moments more as you felt your orgasm, finally pulling back to give you a moment to breathe. He stood on his knees and wiped his mouth, the smirk never leaving his face.

“You taste incredible.” He said, slowly raising himself from the bed. He undid the strings of his pants and pulled them down, his erection popping out. Leaking with wetness already, you couldn’t help but stare - this was the first time you were fully seeing him naked, and you were in awe of his form. Just seeing him fully aroused was enough to get you going again, and once he crawled back on top of you, you immediately spread your legs for him. He kissed you, and the faint taste of yourself made you moan into the kiss - his tongue was sloppily dancing in your mouth, all sense of romantic etiquette out the window. He was needy, whimpering into the kiss.

You felt him align himself with your entrance and you pressed one of your hands to his cheek, causing him to look up. You smiled softly.

“Are you sure?” You asked gently, delicately cradling his trauma in your hands. Your heart was racing in your chest - out of all the lovers in the land, you couldn’t believe that Astarion had felt comfortable with only you.

He smiled and nodded, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, “I’ve never been more sure of anything else in my entire life, darling. All 200 years of it,” You felt him adjust himself on top of you and he smiled, his eyes darkening again, “Now; stop being so nice so I can ravage you so good you can’t walk tomorrow.”

You both chuckled as he pressed himself into you, your laughter giving way to a low hiss as he immediately filled your aching entrance. Your pussy was begging for a break since you had just orgasmed mere moments ago, but the ache felt so good, you couldn’t help but moan. Astarion maintained eye contact with you, his mouth slightly parted, as he slowly began to rock into you, his hips falling into a rhythm.

“Gods, you are so fucking tight,” He spoke through gritted teeth, “Make my cock feel so good.”

Beads of sweat began to appear on his forehead as he rocked quicker into you, his eyes falling heavy. You moved your hips upwards, gaining better leverage so he could go deeper. When he hit your spot, you both moaned in pleasure, and you gripped the sheets next to you.

“Astarion-” You groaned, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. You dug your nails into his back and pulled him closer to you, “Fuck! You make me feel so good!” Your breasts bounced with every thrust and you arched your back, “Harder, please!” You whined.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He mumbled in your ear, his words hot on your face, “You’d like me to fuck you ‘till we broke this bed, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes!” You gasped, digging your nails harder into his back, “Please, please - give it to me!”

Astarion started to slam his hips against yours, the wet sounds of skin filling the tent. With every thrust, he groaned, his face becoming slightly red. A gloved hand appeared around your neck, and he stared into your eyes. You smiled slightly and nodded, and only with your consent did he start to squeeze, holding you in place as he fucked you.

“Tell me you want it. Tell me how good I make you feel.”

“Hells, Astarion! You make me feel so good,” You screamed, both of your hands going to his around your neck, “Please, don’t ever stop fucking me.”

Your voice was a whine, desperate for sweet release of your impending orgasm. If your first one was intense, this one was indescribable - Astarion’s cock slammed into you in a rhythm he was slowly losing control of. He took his hand off of your throat and held on to your hips, trying to gain control of his thrusts as he closed in on his own orgasm.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours!” You screamed immediately, your hands wrapping around his neck again, “I’m yours! This pussy is yours - forever! I’m yours forever.”

Astarion smirked as he looked into your eyes, “Good girl.” He whispered, leaning down to kiss you. He bit down on your bottom lip hard and as he pulled away, he licked away the tiny bit of blood that had sprouted.

Suddenly, his expression changed as the trusts fell out of time. He became sloppy, his mouth open, his eyes closed. His climax was close, so you wrapped your legs around him, drawing his cock closer into your aching cunt. Slick with both of your juices, Astarion’s cock slid in and out of you, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

“Darling, I’m close,” He breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again, staring into yours, “You’re going to make me come.”

“Come for me,” You said bringing your hands to the sides of his face. Your own orgasm was close - you were sure that if you felt him spill inside of you, you would tip over the edge for the second time that night. You smiled, tears of pleasure threatening to fall from your eyes as your body was being pounded into the bed, “Fill me.”

Astarion rested his forehead on yours. With a loud moan of your name, his entire body tensed, his climax spilling into you. His gloved hands dug into the side of your hips and suddenly your orgasm appeared, washing over you all at once. You pressed your body into his, screaming his name, your bodies close enough to feel as one.

As your bodies spasmed together, you saw Astarion smile. He peppered a gently kiss onto your lips, a soft moan escaping into your mouth.

“My darling,” He whispered, his body still on top of you, “That was…divine.” He was out of breath, his voice ragged. As he slowly moved to your side, still inside of you, you nuzzled into his chest, trying to steady your own breathing.

“Thank you,” You whispered, sighing contently, “For trusting me enough to be able to do that with me.”

Astarion tutted and started to stroke your hair, “Thank you for being the person that you are…so that I can feel safe enough to trust you.” He looked down at you and kissed you.

Sleep crept upon both of you; and neither you nor Astarion made a move to clean up the sticky aftermath between both of your legs. As you drifted off to sleep, still naked in Astarion’s arms, he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. You smiled contently - you could get used to this. It seemed the whole world was in your arms as you both held on tightly to one another, an unspoken bond between the two of you grown stronger.

Astarion slid his gloves off before he fell asleep.

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A/N: I had a blast writing this one...please reblog if you liked it! Comments mean the world to me! :)

#astarion x oc #bg3 #astarion #astarion bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion fanfic #bg3 astarion #astarion headcanon #astarion x reader #astarion fan fiction #astarion romance #astarion smut #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #astarion x you

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hellishjoel · 3 months

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when you know, you know (mini chapter)

3.2k / pairing: linecook!frankie x waitress f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Main Masterlist | Notifications Blog | Ko-Fi

summary: A flashback shows Tommy’s crew enjoying Christmas Eve at the diner. Frankie makes his first move with a New Year’s kiss.

warnings/information: MA 18+ (minors DNI), half-ass editing because I’m exhausted (I’ll reread it tomorrow and fix any errors I catch, food and alcohol consumption, reader is has no physical description, swearing, smoking, pet names (princess, asshole ((yes it’s a pet name to me))), christmas/holiday themes, a first kiss is shared that starts this whole journey.

A/N: look at these stinkin cute dividers I made for Table for Two! like shut up! I hope this mini chapter holds you guys over for a little as I also give my focus to cherry thrill and delicate with the beautiful and talented @thetriumphantpanda! also thank you to @undercoverpena for helping me dial down my brain and helping me focus on writing what I really want to write first 💛

Tommy’s Diner. One year ago. The recollection of events is slightly impaired due to alcohol consumption.

The last time it snowed on Christmas Eve in Texas was 2012. It wasn’t a normal, pretty, White Christmas. It was snow. And sleet. And pea-sized balls of hail. The winter storm began in Breckenridge, near Denver. It grew and spiraled, traveling southeast to Northern Texas.

By the time the storm saw Austin, it barely affected the city in terms of transportation. Just beautiful little white flakes, all of them unique, not one like the other. And it was dazzling.

Now, ten years later, in a mythically euphoric way, they land on the pavement in front of your sneakers. A snowflake lands on the toe of your shoe, melting quickly into the material. You let out an appreciative hum and bundle yourself tighter in your jacket, letting the size swallow you.

The diner bustles inside. It’s busy, very busy. You thought people would like to be at home on Christmas Eve, celebrating with their families before the holiday rounded out in the following twenty-four hours. But some people have traditions here.

Older couples who met here on a first date still make their anniversary appearances. There’s this older couple you see like clockwork every year, Maude and Gil.

Gil said he met Maude by accident. Took off from the lumber mill in a hurry to grab a late lunch. Maude was there on a date with another man.

But Gil said it was love at first sight, watching her push her straw around the milkshake glass and trying to seem moderately entertained by her date. Gil thought they were a total match the instant he laid eyes on her.

But Maude didn’t think the same. Not at the time, anyway.

Gil said it was fine because he knew. He just knew. Even if Maude thought their timing wasn’t right at the moment, he’d try again when it was right.

Maude said she found it endearing; how he’d chase, beg, concede, anything he had to do to get her to at least go out with him. He was persistent. And it paid off.

Now, all these years later, with kids and grandkids, they were celebrating a date night before they travel to their daughter’s house for Christmas tomorrow.

After penning in their order, you can’t help but smile at the couple.

“You two are really cute.” A sweet grin is shared between the two patrons before they turn back to you.

“When you know,” Gil pauses to take Maude’s hands across the table, wrinkles forming around old gold wedding bands, “you know.”

You usually don’t get along well with older people. Sometimes you didn’t know how to talk to them. You didn’t understand the references they made and felt awkward trying to navigate back to the menu selections. That, or sometimes they were just plain rude, but you suppose anyone at any age can be fucking rude.

In this part of Texas, some folks felt all too comfortable pushing religion or politics into your lap. And when they weren’t doing that, they were complaining about things that were out of your control.

That light is giving me a headache.

You don’t have any trees to park my car under.

The mashed potatoes aren’t mashed enough. Like, sorry guys, but that sounds like a problem between you, the line cooks, and your denture implementation specialist.

Then there were the more generous guests, those who tip well and sit in your section because they like your playful personality. Where talking doesn’t feel like a chore, and you’re so goddamn funny that they laugh at everything you say.

There’s this ongoing joke between you and these older gentlemen who come every Sunday morning for breakfast. It goes something like,

“Hey, doll, did you put the whiskey in the coffee like I asked ya to?”

You’d playfully gasp, widen your eyes, and look at them with your mouth agape before you lightly smacked their shoulders with your ticket pad. “I certainly did not, my manager would have a fit.” You’d tease, wink, and pour a little extra coffee to top them off as they snickered. They were just guys young at heart who enjoyed making you laugh.

Frankie would play cards with them on his break. Spin the chair around and have the back against the table, thick thighs straddling the seat as he nibbled on a toothpick. He always lost to them at poker but won at blackjack.

Unfortunately, someone really did put some sort of schnapps in the coffee. The staff’s coffee. You weren’t going to name names, but you definitely saw who did it. And you weren’t telling. Especially since you were enjoying your third cup.

Christmas music plays loudly in the back of the kitchen, the restaurant having been closed for the past hour. But for the love of God, Rudy couldn’t get you all to clean up the place and go home.

“Jingle bell, jingle bell, jingle bell rock! Jingle bells swing and jingle bells ring! Snowin' and blowin' up bushels of fun, now the jingle hop has begun!” The entire kitchen sings, all terribly off-tune, but it makes it all the funnier.

You double over in laughter as Carla, your five-foot-tall manager attempts to put a Santa hat on Frankie’s head. He simply crosses his arms and shakes his head, unwilling to bend down and let her put the stupid thing on already.

Finally, with a roll of his eyes, he kneels down and takes the red Santa hat like a crown to a king.

“You’re only fueling his ego!” You boo, Carla walking over and cheering her cup of coffee with yours.

The kitchen is noisy after hours.

All the crew has funneled to the back, sitting on countertops as Lou mops the floor and tells people to stay out of his way. Water sprays from multiple sink faucets as the dishwashers clean at a leisurely pace, too busy singing a rendition of whatever Christmas song played next off the radio.

The old dishwasher hums along as it cleans. People talk or sing over each other, and it’s just loud. You’d be overstimulated if it wasn’t for the spiked coffee in your hand.

“You put this booze in here, didn’t you?” You whisper to Carla as she circles back to your little corner of the counter, looking straight ahead as if she didn’t hear you. She’s as silent as a rock, which you can respect.

“Alright, some manager you are.”

She snickers at that, playfully slaps your thigh with the back of her hand, and watches the line cooks and busboys lazily scrub pots, pans, and plates, too busy howling out what they think are the correct lyrics to the classic Mariah Carey song playing.

“Frankie!” Carla growls, her actual manager tone coming out now. Even Rudy shudders at the lion’s roar.

Frankie looks up, wide-eyed like a kid about to get freshly yelled at. He’s got a cigarette hanging from his lips and a lighter one centimeter away, finger on the trigger ready to light it.

“Go outside and smoke that, you know I can’t come home smelling like cigarette smoke! My kids will get mad at me. Shoo! Shoo!” She ushers with her hands, Frankie smirking against the cig and holding his hands up in playful defense.

“Sorry Mama Bear, I’ll take it outside.”

Carla playfully scoffs as he ducks down to kiss her cheek, giving him a roll of her eyes in return.

Frankie’s eyes meet yours and he nudges his thumb into the pack of cigarettes, one inching out towards you.

“Come on, princess. Let’s go.”

You purse your lips to try and stop the smile, but you can’t help it. You push yourself off the counter and join him outside, the kitchen door closing behind you with a whoosh.

It’s colder outside now, and the snowflakes fall faster but still melt as soon as they hit the pavement.

You walk with Frankie to the loading dock. Tommy’s doesn’t have an actual loading dock, but it has an attached storage garage that houses old equipment. The concrete has questionable stains of varying colors and sizes. A game you and Frankie play is coming up with dramatic stories for each one.

The large maroon puddle was definitely a murder covered up by a secret crime syndicate. The dark green dribbles every few inches are from a lizard-like monster, trailing its way through the garage where its buried itself under the concrete until it’s resurrection day in one thousand years. Or so they say.

Frankie pulls a blue tarp off an old brown leather couch, both of you falling into it with a heavy sigh.

Tonight was exhausting. The holidays in general were.

“You goin’ anywhere for Christmas?” Frankie asks as you hold out your hand for the cigarette, but he lifts it to your lips instead.

A playful smirk dances on your lips as you lean in and take the cigarette obediently, both of Frankie’s hands coming up as one flicks the lighter and the other shields the snowy breeze.

The nicotine swirls down your throat and chills your chest, a nice contrast between the warmth the alcohol has spread through your tummy. Your eyes magnetize to the pretty orange blaze glittering at the end of the cigarette.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, smoke billowing through the air and then into nothingness. “I took off from Christmas to New Year’s, so I’ll be at home with family. You?”

Frankie makes a noncommittal noise, distracted by lighting his cigarette. He flicks the spark wheel multiple times, but the flame only grows smaller and smaller. To Frankie’s relief, it catches. He takes the dead lighter, damn near out of juice, and makes a long chuck to the dumpsters where it clatters deep inside. Dink-bong.

“I’ll be here- wait, until New Year’s?” Frankie asks in disappointment, head tilting affectionately like a dog’s.

You’re a bit shocked by the dramatic reaction, eyes scanning over him.

“Uh.. yeah. Why?”

He’s silent for a bit, eyes avoiding yours before he looks out beyond the freeway and into the void. You shrug it off and lift the cigarette to your lips again. If Frankie wants to say something, he will.

“It’s pretty, isn’t it?” You nod your head towards the snow and Frankie agrees as he looks up at the sky with a fond little smile.

“So, no New Year’s at Tommy’s for you this year, huh?” He circles back, and you’re all too curious.

“Why do you care so much if I’m here on New Year’s or not?” Your demeanor is playful, but he’s dancing around the subject and you’d wish he’d just come out and say it.

But he wanes on your temper and plays oblivious. “Was that Maude and Gil out there earlier?”

You roll your eyes and shuffle closer to him on the couch. Frankie does the same. “Yeah. I wish they came here more than just on Christmas Eve. They’re so refreshing. They’re older, but cool.”

Frankie nods and lets the calm settle between you both.

“Before Tommy retired and moved to Florida... Or ran and hid from his bookie due to his crippling gambling addiction, he said that he was long-time friends with Maude and Gil. They’ve been coming here for like… fifty years.”

You scoff in disbelief and glance over to him. “Who would want to come to this dump for fifty years?”

Frankie shrugs and smiles, leaning into your side as you lay your head on his shoulder. He’s warm.

“I guess it’s all about perspective. We see Tommy’s as clock in, clock out. Run around until our feet hurt and work until we’re sweating pigs. The customers, people like Maude and Gil, they see this place as where their lives began.” Frankie’s eyes look beautifully starstruck in this moment. “Where they started, and where they reminisce. Where it all began. It’s perspective, princess.”

And just like that, he crashes the moment. Again.

With a roll of your eyes, you sit up properly, shoulders shuddering inward from the cold. You shove off his hand that has somehow gone below the radar on your thigh, crossing your leg over the other and tugging down the skirt of your uniform.

“You gotta stop fucking calling me that incessant nickname, asshole”

Frankie scoffs around the exhale of his cigarette. “Why don’t you make me?”

“Oh, I could definitely make you, but where’s the fun in that, Francisco?” You smirk in his direction, but something shifts.

His lips part but he’s at a loss for words, and his eyes dance over your face like he’s trying to memorize each pretty eyelash and the slope of your cheekbones.

A weird feeling of charged energy zigzags back and forth between your bodies, stitching you closer together. Where the flirting goes a little too far and something could happen. It could keep going, like a snowball effect, both of you unwilling to stand down to the other. How far could things go? How far would you let them go?

His eyes look incredibly deep brown in the night, but they pour into you all the same. The red bandana tied around his forehead keeps his unruly dark curls out of his eyes as the wind makes the strands flutter. He’s overwhelmingly handsome. You can feel your breath change, but you don’t want him to notice how your chest falls shallow under his eyeline.

His husky voice breaks the pretty silence.

“If you’re not here for New Year’s, then how are you supposed to be my New Year’s kiss?”

An unbeatable smile breaks out across your face, feeling your stomach summersault. Oh, Frankie.

You playfully shrug as you look beyond the loading dock at the snow that amounts to nothing, still melting upon greeting the asphalt.

“Well. Sounds to me like you’re kissing the back of your hand on New Year’s. Just the same as last year. And the year before that. And the year before that.”

“I’d rather kiss your ass, princess.”

“Oh, I bet you would.” You both snicker and shake your heads. He’s still staring all too longingly.

“Come on.” He speaks softer now. His head tilts so it’s closer to your level. “Lemme kiss you.” His head is hanging to the side, and he speaks with need. His tongue lines his lips and your breath staggers again.

Your and Frankie’s cigarettes burn with abandonment, dangling between fingers settled in your respective laps.

Why can’t a fire break out in the kitchen right now? It would be convenient. Anything to get Frankie from getting too close. Not that you wouldn’t mind kissing him, you just fear that you’d like it a little too much. And he would like it too. What if things changed?

All you can think to do is try to lighten the mood with a little teasing because it feels all too serious right now.

“You don’t wanna kiss me.”

Frankie scoffs and suckles on his cigarette again like it’s the most unbelievable thing he’s ever heard. “I would, I really would.”

Fuck, it’s not working. “What if it’s weird? We work together.”

“It won’t be.”

“How do you know?” You tease.

“I just know.”

“Okay, but how do you know.” Frankie shrugs nonchalantly like it’s no big deal. “When you know, you know.”

Surprise lines around your wide eyes, recognizing the all too familiar sentiment shared by Maude and Gil. The sentence you didn’t realize had so much importance to you until Frankie uttered the same words.

“I- what did you say?” You ask, surely he didn’t just share the same expression. Or spare the same meaning.

A cocky smirk tilts the right side of his mouth upwards. “When you know, you know.” He repeats unphased, eyes twinkling all too sweetly as he looks at you like you’re a wonder.

It’s just one kiss. Nothing else will happen. You wouldn’t let it.

Before you can overthink any further, before you can decline, his large palm casts itself over your cheek, thumb skimming across the silky flesh. Warmth floods your body, and it feels like time has frozen. The snow falls silently around you both, a soft whisper of the wind hissing through the air.

“This alright?” He whispers. You feel so caught off guard, unable to respond with words, just a lousy excuse of a nod.

The heel of his palm guides your jawline upward, lips mutually parting as you take each other in. Anticipation fills the air, fuels the rapid beat slamming around in your chest and nudging itself up in your throat.

Your lips meet, warm and plush. You’re sure he’s not this gentle all the time, but he is in this moment. It’s tender and delicate, slowly taking you all in as if this is the last time he’ll ever get this chance. It probably will be. The bite of each other’s cigarettes tangle in your mouths.

It’s unclear who deepens the kiss first, but there’s more of a desperation to this part. Both of his palms are on your cheeks now, bodies inching closer as your smaller palms fist lightly at the neck of his dingy white tee. You’re keeping him close, fuck, it’s so undeniable.

The intensity that follows highlights a level of emotion you had far long ago locked away. Shoved into a locked crate and stored in secret under your bed. You didn’t like those feelings, they were cute looking from afar, but up close, they were monstrous. But you can’t deny you enjoy the movement of his lips against yours, both of you melting into a sweet rhythm that’s lined with desire.

His tongue explores your mouth. Your fingers dance up the dip of his neck and sink into the warm flesh. He must like the feeling of your skin on his because he lets out a low hum of appreciation. The charged energy you felt before was now flooded, running on all cylinders to keep up with the feelings you and Frankie were exploring for the first time.

It’s heated and flickers like his dead lighter. The bond grows deeper at this newfound connection, much different than a simple peck on the lips for a New Year’s kiss.

It feels like it lasts forever but it’s gone so soon. You find yourself pulling away first, despite it taking all of you to do so. Frankie’s head naturally follows your own, wanting more, drunk off the taste. His lips brush yours again as you laugh.

Both of you grin before you can stop yourselves.

“Shit,” he mutters, pulling away finally as warmth kisses the apples of his cheeks. His thumb lines his lower lip like he wants to remember the electricity and the pattern of your kiss. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s- fine.” You’re all flustered, both of you shifting farther away on the couch.

“I got carried away,”

“Yeah. You did.” Lie.

“I liked it.”

“I know you did, Francisco.” The tight-lipped grin on your lips won’t disappear. But you could.

Everything that follows is muddled sentences and interjections on both your parts. You start.

“I’m gonna head back inside. Carla probably needs some help-”

“Yeah-”

“Are you-”

“Yeah, I’ll stay out here for a few more.”

“Okay.”

You’re both nodding and you’re scrabbling for balance as your feet pace on shaky ground. You nudge your jacket tighter around your body as you drop the cigarette and smother it with the toe of your shoe.

A shaky breath leaves you as you walk away and smooth out your uniform, thankful to have your back to him as you walk off and return to the kitchen’s back door. Or else he might see you smiling sheepishly.

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sorrowsofsilence · 4 months

Text

Burning Out • III

Pairing: Noah Sebastian x Fem!Reader

I was lost, but now I'm found Under the lights and in the sounds So let us sing and sing it loud That we're not perfect, but we're proud of who we are.

Noah Sebastian is lost. His crime-filled lifestyle is anything but perfect; but everything changes once he meets you.

Words: 6.3k

Warnings: Smut 18+ (female!fingering), explicit language, mentions of drinking, mentions of taking pills, mentions of death

Authors note: Chapter Three - A Dreamlike Heathen: this chapter isn’t as long as I hoped but I do hope you enjoy <3 I’m sorry it took so long for me to upload!!! Songs are Dreamlike by Dead By April and Heathens by Aurora! Also I’m sorry for any mistakes I wanted to publish this and it’s not proofread and it’s currently 1am here and I’m so sleepy lol

THIS IS A FANFICTION USING REAL PEOPLE IN A FICTIONAL SITUATION! I AM NOT IMPLYING THESE PEOPLE WOULD DO THE THINGS IN THE STORY OR ACT THE WAY THEY DO IN THE STORY IN REAL LIFE! IT IS FICTION! IT IS JUST FOR FUN! <3

Tags: @crimson-calligraphyx @lma1986 @spicywhenspeaking @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @princessmarshmallowx @laurpartyprogram @cookiesupplier @nojoyontheburn @lacktoesandtoddlerants @veronicaphoenix @er3nslovergirl @melinacchss-blog @cncohshit @thescarlettvvitch @scrumptiousfestivalpost

“Fuck Noah,” She whispered, panting as she threw her head back into the mirror, eyebrows furrowed in pleasure.

“Oh my god don’t stop.” She moaned, and I obliged, giving her everything I could.

“Come Y/N,” I said between sucking, and squeezing her hips, “be a good girl for me.”

Her legs began to vibrate, her mouth open, sound unable to escape as she shook through her orgasm. I didn’t stop until she physically pushed me away, shallow breaths leaving her lips.

I grabbed her chin, pulling her lips to mine, begging her to taste herself from my tongue.

“Life had broken her; just as it had broken him. But when they got together, their pieces became whole. And they started on their journey, together, mended as one.” - Steve Maraboli

+++++

Noah

Twenty fucking thousand dollars. Twenty.

My mind kept racing over two things. The fact I had to somehow come up with all this money myself; and the fact I slept with Y/N last night. I sat on the cot in our motel room the next morning, head in my hands as my leg bounced nervously.

“I-I should go,” Y/N hopped off the counter, wiping my release off of her stomach before readjusting her shorts.

“wait-” I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back toward my drunken state, “can I see you again?”

She gave me a wry smile, “I’d like that.” She tugged from my grasp but I held her tighter, pulling her into my arms.

My body remained swaying, the euphoria and alcohol mixed, “do you regret what just happened?”

I wasn’t sure if this question was for me, or her.

“No,” She said, her fingertips running up the skin of my neck. She fit against my body perfectly, as if she was always meant to be there.

I had left the bar with the boys minutes after fucking Y/N’s brains out, stealing lingering glances at her figure behind the counter before parting. Even though I was drunk, I couldn’t believe it happened… but I needed a release, a bit of euphoria to ride out through dealing with the crushing news D gave us.

Twenty thousand.

I looked at the anklet D put on me, the green dot blinking periodically. I couldn’t believe the fucking bastard was tracking our every move. He’d followed us for years, but this was next level.

I also had no idea how to get that much money by myself. The boys and I alternated job’s each night for our sanity, but the fact I had to keep a journal and record each place I got the money from, and then submit it to one of D’s bitches so he could ensure only I was doing the work, was ridiculous.

Twenty thousand this month would mean I’d need to get approximately 645 dollars a day since there were 31 days this month. Which realistically didn’t seem too bad once broken down; but some days I could bring in thousands, others, absolutely nothing at all. At least my final day of owing will be a fantastic birthday present to me.

I groaned, flopping back into the mattress on the floor, my thoughts overwhelming. Everything has led up to this moment, and I was still completely fucked.

Jolly sat on his bed, strumming away on his old acoustic guitar that was barely holding onto the strings. With his hands dancing along the neck, I closed my eyes to the rhythm he created, fingers tapping along the beat.

I began humming, words spiralling out of my mouth subconsciously, “I’ve seen the devil, more than I’ve seen god.”

Jolly gave me a slight snicker, continuing to strum, “I like that.”

“I see through you, I know what you are.”

I repeated the two phrases over and over, singing lowly as I continued to drum my fingers. Hmm. I checked the time on my phone briefly, realizing it was 4:30 pm.

I sat up, grabbed my bag and swung it over my shoulder.

“Where are you going?” Jolly asked.

“To see Y/N.”

“Why?” Jolly stopped playing, placing the guitar across the bedsheets.

It's been twenty long years I've cried, but not enough tears I've become the sum of all my fears (I feel scared, so scared)

I stared at him blankly, the cogs within my mind turning to find an answer themselves. Why was I going to see her? Why did I care that I made it for when she got off work at the cafe? Something about her was magnetizing, and I couldn’t help but crave more. I wanted to explore her mind and body; to know her in every way possible.

I don’t have time to think of someone like her; I don’t deserve to think of someone like her.

I have a job to do.

But I don’t care.

“I don’t know,” I turned to look at him with my hand on the doorknob.

Jolly’s eyes watched back quizzically, “I think you should leave her out of this. Break it off now.”

I furrowed my brows, “There’s nothing to break off.”

Jolly gave me a curt laugh, “Yea, which is why you fucked in the bathroom yesterday. Nothing to break off.”

My face warmed, unsure of how he knew. I didn’t think it was obvious.

“She seems like a nice girl. You wouldn’t want to get her killed,” Jolly warned. He wasn’t wrong. This line of business wasn’t exactly safe, and I knew I shouldn’t get Y/N involved.

“She already knows too much,” I said, avoiding his eyes as I stared at the floor.

“Det är inte riktigt rätt möblerat på övervåningen hos dig.” Jolly groaned, rubbing his eyes with his palm. Your top floor is not properly furnished (Mind is a mess).

I rolled my eyes, “Oh don’t bring out the Swedish insults you asshat.”

“Well, I suggest you break her heart now before it’s too late.”

I bit my lip as I opened the door, ignoring his burning words.

“Din jävla fubbick,” I heard the swede mutter before I shut the door. You damn moron.

Guilt washed over my body as I took long strides through the motel parking lot, my mind spiralling and my palms sweating. What am I doing?

Jolly was right; Y/N shouldn’t be mixed up in this; but part of me yearned for her. I haven’t had someone willing to listen to my thoughts for years. I’ve never had anyone else to relate to other than my brothers.

I wanted to share everything about me and learn everything about her, and she felt safe to do so. She was also wildly gorgeous; her e/c eyes glimmered with so much hope, something I aspired to have one day. Maybe I could even share with her. Hope.

You gave me a strength unparalleled But nothing compared to how much I've bled (I feel scared, so scared)

+++++

Y/N

He hasn’t shown up for his coffee again today. Did he regret what happened last night?

I swept between the tables and recalled the previous events. I don’t even know what came over me yesterday, but I do know that I didn’t have any regrets.

I knew my face began to warm as I recalled the way Noah’s fingers dug into my hips, gripping onto me as he pounded into me mercilessly; drowning his sorrows through the pleasure of our bodies.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the way he stared into me, aching with fervour and hunger, begging me to give everything to him.

I wanna know what it feels like Is it nothing but dreamlike? I wanna touch you now

It was anything but romantic- having a quick fuck in the bathroom of a bar, but I longed for Noah even more after that.

I feel like I’m going crazy. How could he have such a hold over me, especially after finding out he is a criminal? I should be running; so why can’t I let him go?

Lust? Infatuation? Whatever it is, I crave him.

I pushed away my thoughts, finishing the rest of my closing tasks and clocking out. I waved to Annika as I pulled my hoodie over my head, grabbing my bag and de-tangling my earbuds.

As I walked out the door a hand immediately grabbed my own, pulling me towards them. A light squeal of surprise left my lips as he pulled me into his body, giving me a side hug.

“Noah?” I looked up to see a small smile dancing across the man’s lips as he towered over me. My eyes travelled across his neck tattoo, marvelling at its glory before trailing across his face in awe, my heart hammering once again.

His dancing eyes smiled as he wrapped his other arm around me, embracing me fully. I couldn’t help but grin as my face smushed into his chest, inhaling his scent; instantly comforted.

How can it feel so right? It is nothing but dreamlike I'm gonna touch you now

“You came,” I said, surprising myself. The way Noah’s cage felt immensely protective and serene as he embedded me into his chest, left my pulse pounding with elation.

“I wanted to be here for when you got off work,” He said, squeezing me gently before letting go. “Do you want to do something before your next shift?”

I gave him a cheeky grin, “Something?”

Noah licked his lips before matching my smile, putting his finger through the belt loop of my jeans, and tugging me along beside him as we walked down the sidewalk. I flushed at the gesture as he held me next to him as if claiming me for his own.

“I meant like, dinner,” He hummed, “but I also can’t stop thinking about last night.”

“Come Y/N,” he had said between sucking and squeezing my hips, “be a good girl for me.”

A shudder ran down my spine as my mind wandered, and I peered up at Noah, his cheeks flushing through his confession.

“Me too,” I said softly, “Did you want to come back to my place? We could order takeout… because I need to get my clothes for my next shift.”

“I’d like that,” Noah peered down at me warmly.

We walked together in silence, the only sound the bustle of life that surrounded the sidewalk as we passed various shops, heading towards my neighbourhood. For “level two acquaintances” the silence between the two of us was soothing, something that I think shocked us both.

Noah let go of my belt loop, shoving his hands inside of his pockets. I looked over at him, his expression filled with thought and worry, something eating him alive.

“Did you want to talk about it?” I asked gently, looking ahead as the light breeze slid past my cheeks.

Noah was quiet, eyes darting back and forth, “I trust you so much, and I don’t know why.”

I nodded, agreeing with his concern silently, letting him continue.

“and I don’t know who else to talk to about this with…my brothers are too involved and have enough opinions as it is,” Noah said, following me down the path that led us towards my house.

“Remember how I told you we owe a lot of money to this… guy? Well, this month is supposed to be our last month, and then we are finally free.”

I smiled widely, grabbing Noah’s arm in excitement, shaking him gently, “That’s great news! You’ll be done with it forever!”

Noah chuckled darkly, rolling his head to the side in annoyance, “Yeah, well, there’s a catch.”

My grip on his arm fell, a sullen expression taking over my joy.

“I have to get him twenty thousand, myself. The boys can’t help me.”

“Twenty thousand?” I exclaimed, stopping in my tracks to look at him, “That’s a shit ton of money.”

Noah’s hand ran across his face in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I know. I am beyond fucked.”

I blinked a few times in disbelief as we approached the steps to my house, the greeting of Juice’s trill on the other side of the door inviting us in. Noah was immediately bombarded with cat love and he gave the furry animal a small smile, bending down to scratch the top of his head before running his fingers down Juice’s back.

Closing the door I kicked off my sneakers, hanging my bag on the coat rack. Noah followed, placing his black vans politely by the front door; which was when I noticed a small anklet blinking beneath the hem of his pants.

I stared at it quizzically, and Noah caught my gaze. He lifted his leg, mouth forming a tight line.

“Like my new accessory?” Anger seethed from his tongue as he gave me a sarcastic smile, before standing in front of me, completely defeated.

I led us upstairs into my bedroom, “What is it?”

“A tracker.”

I stopped at the top, turning around to look at him, “What do you mean a tracker?” I watched his ankle with cautious eyes, flickering between Noah and the device.

He sighed heavily as I turned back around, opening my bedroom door. Noah immediately flopped onto my bed, inviting himself to lay on his back as he spread his limbs out, “The guy’s name is D, the one we owe. He said that to make sure I wasn’t getting the boys’ help with the money, we all need to wear these fucking trackers. I also need to keep a log of where the money comes from so it matches up with my location, and deposit it each week.”

“And this all happened last night?”

He nodded, and I watched as Noah’s eyes squeezed shut in frustration, tears pricking them. I stood next to the bed, watching for a moment as his chest heaved, crumbling before me. I then crawled next to him, sitting up as he rolled over. He placed his head onto my lap, holding himself against my thighs as silent tears cascaded down his cheeks.

“I…I’m barely holding on,” He whispered.

My fingers began running through Noah’s scalp, lacing themselves through his chestnut strands in an attempt to soothe him, showing my support. I hear you.

My heart yearned for him once again, filled with sorrow and pain as he suffered in torment, dealing with the burden of his demons. Noah didn’t deserve this. He was young when he fucked up, and he hasn’t been able to escape. I saw myself within his pain, my past mirroring back at me.

“I just keep hoping that one day I’ll have something else motivating me- something more than fear, more than spite. I wanna feel like I’m living.”

I listened to Noah’s words as they resonated with me. I too, wanted to feel like I was living.

I had never been part of the right crowd, and I was always getting into trouble, due to the influence of my previous relationships. I followed their shenanigans because I had nobody else to model- and I made some poor choices. I chose to follow them.

However, I also chose to leave- to start fresh and to forget about my past. People can change, and people can grow, and Noah deserved the same opportunity. He was being puppeteered by an evil man; and I wanted to help him escape, as much as he wanted his freedom.

I chewed my cheek in contemplation, fingers still stroking his hair, “let me help you, Noah.”

“Help with what?”

“The money. You don’t deserve to do it alone.”

Noah sat up now, watching me intensely from across the bed, “You’ve built yourself a new life Y/N. Don’t fuck it up now.”

He was right. Why was I willing to risk it all?

“I’ve been willing to fuck it up the second I saw you at the cafe,” I traced his face, analyzing his expression before my mind wandered to an idea; one so insane I couldn't even believe I was about to suggest this.

“I’m going to sound crazy, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this,” I hesitated for a moment, sucking in a breath between my teeth, “but why don't you come live with me? You and your brothers?”

Noah’s eyes widened, lips parting slightly in perplexity. He blinked a few times, and I continued my thought.

“You won’t need to pay rent or anything, so you guys can save money to pay this D guy faster. The motel money probably adds up.”

Noah slid off the bed, standing up abruptly, folding his arms over his body in defence, “You cannot be serious,” he laughed with incredulity.

“Listen, Noah,” I scooted to sit on the edge of the bed, looking up at him, “I was stuck for a long time, and I didn’t have a helping hand… but I have enough to offer you. I know what it’s like to struggle.”

Noah’s fingers ran through his hair as he began pacing, shaking his head, “I don’t need your pity Y/N.”

“This isn’t pity, I swear,” I stood up, approaching Noah gently, holding both of his biceps to keep him in place from his anxious wading, “I wished someone had helped me when I needed it.”

He stared down at me in complete disbelief, his eyes scanning mine for any signs of doubt; but I remained confident in my suggestion, staring at him assuringly.

“so let me help you,” I whispered, reaching up to place a gentle hand on his cheek. With a racing heart, I rubbed my thumb across his skin, bewildered at my words.

He closed his eyes in conflict and placed a hand on top of my own, clammy and nervous.

“Why are you helping a monster?” Noah breathed, leaning into my touch, curious eyes observing me.

“Everyone deserves help. You deserve it.”

What are we allowed to do? What are we allowed to be?

“You’re not a monster Noah,” placing a hand on his other cheek, I stood on my tiptoes, pulling him down towards me, kissing the tip of his nose delicately.

I wanna cross the line with you Let's pass the point of no return

Noah watched me with pure awe, matching me by grabbing either side of my face, and placing his forehead on my own, “You are fucking crazy.”

Is this wrong? I don't wanna know A big mistake? I don't wanna know

I chuckled softly, “I completely agree with you, I think I am insane for offering this.”

I wanna know what it feels like Is it nothing but dreamlike? I wanna touch you now

Noah laughed quietly with me, still in complete doubt. His eyes kept trailing between my own and my lips, as if trying not to kiss me, before giving in.

How can it feel so right? It is nothing but dreamlike I'm gonna touch you now

Noah’s lips kissed me tenderly as he held my face, and I melted into his touch. With each greeting of our lips, the kiss became harder and deeper, the emotion transferring from him to me; radiating between us.

We remained standing, holding each other intimately for a few more moments before Noah pulled away. He rested his forehead against mine once again, brushing his thumb across my lips as his eyes peered into mine longingly.

“I’m sorry, not sorry for breaking into your house; because otherwise, we wouldn’t be here,” Noah said.

“I forgive you, clearly,” I laughed, “but you could always try to make it up to me again if you feel like it?”

Noah let out a puff of air, hands running down my neck along my curves, resting at the top of my hips, “I like that idea.”

I grinned at him, my hands resting at the back of his tattooed neck, the apple and snake teasing me.

Noah leaned towards my ear, warm breath tickling my skin, “I’m craving the way you taste- and I’ve only tasted you once.”

I hummed as he kissed me hungrily again, letting out a sigh of relief. Our heads tilted slowly as they switched from left to right, sharing open-mouth kisses, and devouring each other.

Noah rubbed his hips into my own, a soft moan trailing from my throat. As much as I wanted to continue, I knew I had to go to work soon.

I pushed his chest gently, “It’s already 6… I need to leave for work in half an hour.”

Noah gave me a sly smile, “You underestimating my skills?”

I chuckled, “Not at all.”

“I bet I could make you come in two minutes,” His fingers trailed up the sides of my torso, fingers tracing circles across the skin.

I hummed, “what do I get if you can’t?”

Noah leaned towards my ear, fingers squeezing right below my chest, “then I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk, and you’ll come again.”

My body shivered from his words, and my stomach began to swirl with excitement as Noah’s hands worshiped my body, whispering lustful promises as he peppered kisses down my neck. Noah peeked over at the clock on my nightstand briefly.

“6:04.”

My eyes fluttered shut as the pace of my breathing picked up, Noah leading us towards the wall. My back hit the surface as he pushed his body against mine, heat radiating off of him.

Noah’s hand gripped my wrists as he lifted them above my head, holding me captive as his other trailed down my waistline toward my desire.

I succumbed to Noah’s touch as his touch slid through me, circling and prodding. Whatever he was doing left me completely giving in to his caress; the fact both of us were still completely clothed made this moment that much more invigorating.

Noah’s teeth hooked on my bottom lip as he ravaged my mouth. I moaned earnestly as his fingers sank through my slick, curling towards my need. His palm pushed against me, rubbing and maintaining a repetitive pattern, and my legs began to give out. How he could make me surrender with his hand alone had me flustered.

(I'm in a) (I'm in a) (I'm in a) I'm in a, I'm in a dreamlike state

I rutted my hips towards his touch and Noah smiled into my lips, “so needy,” he mumbled.

I sighed eagerly as he continued his method, my body trembling in response, close to my release.

“C’mon princess, you can do it,” Noah muttered, trailing his lips down my neck towards my collarbone, before snagging his teeth on a sensitive spot. He sucked and nibbled at my skin, branding me.

I didn’t even care, exhilaration taking over.

Noah slipped his fingers out, sliding them up until he reached the top, pressing the pad of his fingers and circling them quickly. I shuddered, my body crumbling as I cried out his name.

Can it feel so right? It is nothing but dreamlike I'm gonna touch you now

Noah smiled into me again as his head lay pressed against my neck, satisfied and prideful of his actions.

My chest heaved as I came down from the high, folding off of the wall into his arms. I clutched onto his sweater for support, turning my head to the clock. 6:08

“That was four minutes,” I panted.

“Looks like I owe you,” Noah’s smug smile said it all.

I chuckled, looking up at him, eyes dilated with satisfaction “Oh, what a shame.”

Noah grinned, the whites of his teeth making my heart flutter. He sat on my bed, adjusting himself in his pants before watching me pace around my room, picking out my work clothes.

I opted for leggings and a tight square-cut long sleeve. I took the clothes out of my closet, holding them to my chest before turning around.

“Uh…” I looked at the brunette, his hair cascading down his face perfectly, “Do you uhm, can you turn around?”

Noah choked out a laugh, “huh? you do realize that I’ve seen you like, partially naked? And literally just touched you?”

My face flushed, “Yeah… but still.”

Noah chuckled, obliging as he turned around on the bed to face the wall. I began stripping, pulling my leggings up before changing my shirt. I peered at Noah, noticing his head whip back around.

“Hey!” I laughed, “No peaking!”

Noah turned around once I was dressed, sticking his tongue out playfully, “Whatever do you mean?”

I rolled my eyes as Noah stood up, scratching the back of his neck, “I’d say we’ve at least levelled up to buddies.”

Yea, fuck buddies.

I hummed, “I agree, definitely more than level-two acquaintances.”

Noah nodded at me with a lighthearted glare, “Friends would be going too far right now though.”

“Definitely,” I mimicked his expression before leading us down the stairs. I peered in the mirror that was hung on the wall next to the door, eyes glancing at the hickey forming on the side of my neck. Fuck. Nothing I can do about that now.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to eat,” I said, “but if you want, you could come to the bar?”

“I’d like that,” Noah bent down to slip on his vans as I put on my black Converse.

I chewed my lip, “Did you want to invite your friends? Maybe talk about the offer?”

Noah stood up, frowning, “Y/N- I couldn’t do that to you.”

“Well, at least ask them, see what they say,” I looked at him with a serious expression, “I wasn’t kidding with the offer. I have the basement finished but unfurnished; and a spare bedroom upstairs. You guys would have your own space.”

Noah stared at the floor, kicking up the side of the carpet nervously, “I mean I’ll talk to them.”

I couldn’t help but smile widely, “Please do. Now lets go or I’ll be late.”

+++++

NOAH

Ruffilo, Jolly, Folio and I sat in a booth at Sammy’s, the three of them watching me curiously as I explained the situation.

“She offered us a place to stay for free,” I peeked over at Y/N, stealing a glance as she catered to a few customers. Her H/C hair fell so delicately around her eyes, and my heart fluttered at how genuine and beautiful her smile was as she poured the drink for the woman in front of her. She lit up the room around her, her energy charismatic and incandescent.

“No fucking way we are doing that,” Jolly said, glancing at Y/N briefly before folding his arms, sinking into the leather of the booth.

“I mean,” Nick began, looking between us, “This would help us out a lot Jolly.”

“-and Noah,” Nicholas said, “Like we pay roughly 130 bucks a night. That’s $3,900 we’d save him right there.”

All of us peered over at Y/N, and she lifted her head, giving us all a smile.

“Why would she do that for you? For us? What’s in it for her?” Jolly said, skeptical.

I had no fucking idea why she would, but I was desperate for any amount of help I could get.

I shrugged, “I don’t know.”

She was selfless, enigmatic, and completely sublime.

“How long have you known her?” Nick raised a brow, plucking a fry from the plate in the middle of us.

I winced, “Er, two days?”

Folio’s eyes bulged out of his head as he leaned forward, chest pressed into the table, “Ain’t no fucking way this is real. She has to be getting something out of it.”

Jolly snorted, “yea, his dick.”

I scoffed, rolling my head back dramatically, “Oh fuck off !”

“That giant ass hickey proves it-”

“Oh, can it Jolly, have any of you ever thought that maybe Y/N is just a nice person?” Nicholas defended.

I grabbed a fry, dipping it in some ketchup before taking a bite, “people like us don’t deserve nice people.”

Ruffilo looked at me disappointedly, “Don’t say that. We’ve done some fucked up shit, but how else have we been able to get by?”

“Plus, we can’t help with the money. D doesn’t know Y/N exists, so he wouldn’t suspect the help.” Nick said, and Nicholas nodded in agreement.

I watched the three of them as they gave me a sullen smile, “I’m worried D will be suspicious that our locations will move though; and that it will put her in danger.”

“She must know there’s a risk, considering you filled her in on everything,” Nick took a sip of his beer.

“Why she’s willing to risk everything she’s worked towards beats me,” I said, sighing heavily.

“Worked towards?” Nicholas asked.

The boys waited for me to answer.

She bargains with the world So everything she wants will come to her With no greed inside her mind She knows what she deserves

“She’s been through some fucked up shit I guess, but she saved a bunch of money and moved here to start over her life. She works two jobs almost every day to afford everything,” I looked back at Y/N for a prolonged period, my heart beating quickly, “She just kept telling me she knows what it’s like, and she wished people helped her.”

“So pity?” Jolly gave me a sarcastic smile, nodding rapidly.

“No,” I defended, “she’s just a generous person.”

We remained silent, chewing our food quietly before Jolly spoke.

“Well, I suppose it’s worth a shot,” He said, eying the fries before staring at me, “for Noah.”

“Yeah, but also you guys. She offered it to all of us,” I said.

Nicholas looked over at her warmly, “That’s kind of her. Really kind.”

We fell from sky with grace And landed in her soft and warm embrace She gave her love, her gift of life So we could live with her

I stood up, walking towards the bar, sitting on a stool in front of her. She nodded to another customer before smiling at me, waltzing over.

“So?” She bit her lip, almost looking hopeful.

I picked at the resin counter, my nail grinding within a divot in the material as I distracted myself from her, “How early can we move in?”

“Tonight if you want.”

Y/N and I shared a look before I nodded, giving a gentle laugh, “Okay. Want to meet your new roommates? Considering you haven’t even met the guys you offered your entire life to.”

Y/N laughed, “yea. I’m realizing how crazy I sound the more realistic this becomes.”

I motioned for the boys to come over and they did, each with a beer in their hand, sitting on either side of me along the counter.

Y/N gave them a sunny grin, introducing herself.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Nicholas said politely.

“You as well,” she nodded, before looking at Folio.

“I’m Nick, Nick folio,” He held out his hand, wrapping around her own and shaking.

She then moved to Jolly, who gave her a curt smile. Although he was stand-off-ish, she greeted him warmly.

“Joakim, but call me Jolly,”

“So, tonight?” I eyed everyone, who all turned to look at Y/N.

She shrugged, “I’m off at midnight. I can help take stuff over.”

“Well, we don’t exactly have a lot. We can probably take everything in two trips,” Nick said.

“I can help, I’ll meet you guys at the motel.”

+++++

We packed everything into our backpacks and suitcases, and my chest tightened at the realization we would be leaving our ‘home’ of the last few years.

“This is crazy,” Nick shook his head as he played Tetris with our belongings, organizing them within our van.

“You gotta admit,” Nicholas began as he carried out the old guitars with Jolly, “It will be nice to be in an actual house for a while.”

“Good point,” Jolly mumbled, “But I’m still suspicious.”

That is why we live like heathens Stealing from the trees of Eden

Y/N made it over around 12:30, and we packed her car full as well; not that there was much room considering how small it is.

All of us stood outside the motel, part of us grieving for departing what we’ve always known; the other relishing in gratitude for this new opportunity.

Y/N placed a hand on my shoulder as I stared at the motel door plaintively.

Living in the arms of freedom And everything we touch is evil That is why we live like heathens

I gave her a sorrowful smile before nodding at my brothers, “Y/N will lead the way.”

I sat in the passenger seat of Y/N’s car, staring out the window as we drove past the buildings towards her neighbourhood; our new home.

I couldn’t believe this was happening. This woman was a complete gift, the strings of fate leaving me confounded yet wonderstruck.

Once we arrived and went inside, Juice greeted the boys, and each of them immediately fell in love with the orange fur ball. Y/N toured everyone around before leading us down to the basement. As Y/N mentioned it was unfurnished, but had a full bathroom. The only items around were a rack of guitars in pristine condition and a few cardboard boxes.

“Holy shit- is that a Martin D-41?” Jolly immediately smiled, walking over to assess the guitars, “and an Ernie Ball Music Man John Petrucci Majesty?”

“Damn, and a Gibson Thunderbird IV Bass?” Ruffilo joined in on the geek-sesh, both of them giddy.

Y/N laughed, “Wow, you must know your stuff. Those were my dads, he was really into music.”

She walked over, grazing her fingers across the strings, “I’ve kept them in his memory, but I have no idea how to play.”

I watched her as she picked up the Martin, handing it to Jolly, “feel free to use them whenever you want; they deserve some love, they were made to be played.”

Jolly’s lips fell open before he smiled warmly, gazing at the guitar, “You’re so fucking cool.”

We all chuckled and I watched Y/N in awe as she interacted with my brothers, taking them in and treating them as if she’d known us all for years.

The stone, the dirt, the dust The unforgiving promise made to us Unworthy of your light, your god, your touch We're guided by the lust

“I only have one blow-up mattress I take camping, but there is a bed in the spare room, and the couch in the living room…” She looked between the four of us until her eyes landed on me.

“Uh,” Her cheeks flushed as she spoke, “we can always share my bed tonight until I can pick up a couple of mattresses…”

We cry the fallen names We cry for those who burned beneath the flame We stand besides the good and brave The broken and enslaved

My face warmed along with her and I coughed, straightening up, “Yeah, no worries.”

The boys watched us, a low chuckle leaving Folio. Y/N grabbed spare blankets, pillows and the blow-up mattress from the closet. She set up the bed, which Jolly dibsed. Nick took the couch, and Nicholas took the spare room down the hall from Y/N’s.

Y/N and I went into her room and she shut the door quietly, turning around, sighing.

“Well,” she blew out a puff of air, giving me a kind smile, “this is interesting.”

I nodded, following her with my eyes as she began getting ready for bed, brushing her H/C hair, and wiping off her makeup for the day. I admired her beauty, staring at her with reverence. She was brilliant.

“I-I can sleep on the floor Y/N. I don’t mind,” I whispered as she slid an oversized t-shirt over her frame, stripping off her work attire.

I licked my lips, swallowing harshly before averting my eyes, reminding myself that now was not the time to get worked up. She had to be at the cafe in a few hours.

Juice purred as he curled into a bed next to her windowsill, eying us from the corner.

Y/N turned off her main light, flicking on a dim lamp that cascaded a soft orange aura across the room before she crawled into bed, opening the covers and patting next to her.

“You can sleep with me, it’s okay.”

I shifted on my feet nervously, tossing my hoodie over my head and placing it neatly over the chair of her vanity, along with my jeans.

Hours ago I was pinning her against the wall, devouring her body in complete confidence. Why was I suddenly so shy? Why did this feel so much more intimate than sex?

Her love is yours But only if you give your heart to her

I walked over to her, sliding myself between her covers as I lay as close to the edge as possible.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” She mumbled, jumping out of bed and leaving to the bathroom, returning shortly with a bottle of pills and a cup of water.

She opened the bottle, turned around and placed one on her tongue before taking a swig of water. I watched as she placed her pills on her desk, before hopping back into bed.

That is why we live like heathens Stealing from the trees of Eden Living in the arms of freedom And everything we touch is evil

She crawled underneath the covers, snuggling into the duvet as she lay on her side, facing me.

We remained silent for a few moments before she asked me a question in a small voice, “Is it ok if the light stays on?”

I preferred the lights off, but I wasn’t going to share my preference; I was already invading her space.

“I have trouble sleeping,” She whispered vulnerably.

“Of course,” I said, pulling the covers over my shoulders.

“Okay,” her eyes fluttered open and closed, fighting against sleep, “goodnight Noah.”

I watched as her lashes touched the tops of her cheeks, her eyebrows releasing tension from the day, lips parted gently as sleep took over.

My eyes danced across her features, completely captivated. Y/N breathed slowly, and my hand subconsciously reached over, tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear as I endeared over her.

“you’re my saving grace,” I whispered as I stroked her hair, still completely baffled this was all happening.

I watched her for a moment longer before I turned over, facing the door and her desk. My eyes trailed over to the bottle that rested on her desk, the yellow plastic alluring. Zolpidem. 700 dollars right there.

Destruction. Crime. Greed.

That is why we live like heathens That is why we live like heathens That is why we live like heathens

Chapter four

#burning out fanfic #smut #bad omens #bad omens cult #joakim jolly karlsson #joakim karlsson #metal #noah sebastian x reader #Nick folio #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo #Noah Sebastian #Noah Sebastian smut #bad omens smut #noah sebastian davis #noah sebastian fic

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wintersera · 7 months

Note

THE GISELLE THOUGHTS ??? I am going crazy giselle does not get appreciated enough and her thighssss, plsss write a longer fic where she corrupts reader and makes her ride her thighs? 🏃‍♀️

notes: readers a virgin and aeris a little bit of a pervy creep.. also this is like almost noncon? ATP this is a full fic like oopsies my bad- i meant for it to be an imagine but i got carried away

cw: dubcon, corruption kink (hope i did it well 😭), innocent!reader, thigh riding 🤤

man… it was 3am and you were bored as hell. like bored as fawk ://

the last days of summer vacation had you exhausted even though you really didn’t do much. and lord were you tired from well… being tired. your best chances of getting rid of your boredom was to contact someone, yet no one you liked was online. just a couple of people you knew from class because of a project and that was about it… thats so fucking boring 😭

sitting up and thinking in your emptied and rotting brain, you pace around your room wondering what you should do. like if it was some miracle, your friend, bestest friend- aeri was online.

opening up your dms you find that she beat you to it- her messages appearing as soon as you opened the app.

NOW, you were excited as hell. not seeing aeri in ages bc of college and whatnot, you felt your heart skip a beat because of some short message she sent. oh you gay ass- anyways, you get to see her again and you couldn’t contain you excitement. now if you had a dog tail it would be wagging so hard rn.. yes, you were that excited to see her.

after a while she pulled up in your driveway like the hot ass bitch she was, yeah sunglasses on even though it was almost pitch black outside (she actually put them on before she saw you open the door) she wore a white baggy tshirt on and some shorts and that was it. it was hot all day and the cool night breeze really helped with that “you just gonna stand there? or… are you gonna come inside”

“you gonna let me have the aux?” she giggles at you, nodding as you duck your head to get inside her car.

the sky was pretty, the view was gorgeous and even she looked stunning, the moonlight highlighting her sideprofile,,, lawd have mercy she was so ethereal.

—

throughout the entire journey you were pouring your whole soul out to girls generation songs,, i mean fr, you were belting out the notes like mariah carey- it was that serious for you 😭 and aeri yet looked at you with fondness in her eyes… funnily enough you looked like a hot mess in front of her. a thrown on tshirt and some shorts you found on the floor bc she came around too early,, way too early, she looked at you as if you were the prettiest mf ever, a slight blush on her face. aeri thanked all things holy that it was dark outiside, she thought that you would notice her blushing at you and your silly antics- even though you were a little dense that you would never think that your bestie was thinking of so many nasty things.

you didn’t realise it, but she had her hand resting on the top of your thigh, massaging your flesh ever so lightly, however your dumbass was too occupied with gee (STREAM GEE BY GIRLS GENERATION) aeri could feel her face heat up, she knew touching you like this was so wrong, but when would she ever get the chance to touch you ever again? the way you weren’t even paying attention made her think she could get away with it. she couldn’t help the way she thought of you, you looked so damn pretty and she had to ravish you.

all of a sudden the car jerked… then stopped in the middle of fuckass no where.

“aeri?”

“we’re here-“ she huffs

“i can’t see anything?”

“don’t worry you’re pretty little head about it, just come out. the view is actually nice here” but she knew she was lying. getting you out of the car was one thing, shoving you into the back seat was another- as soon as you were thrown into the back, aeri had also placed herself on the seat next to you, the corner of her lips tugging up ever so slightly “don’t be scared just… come here” pulling you closer by the front of your shirt.

aeri was strong as fuck- like she was strong STRONG using her bigass hands to pull you in by the waist… 😵‍💫 why exactly did she lock the car with you and her in the back? was she planning to murder you or something? is that why she called you out so early in the night? all these questions kept circling around in your head, you couldn’t exactly understand her intentions and you were scared to death.

a cold sweat ran down your temple, ohhh you thought you were fucked… but now she’s moving you onto her lap? your face meeting hers, her hot breath hitting your neck when she nuzzles into the crook of it “aeri…?” a painfully slow hand caresses your hips. shaking, no, shuddering in her grasp, you felt terrified and confused as her hands wondered across your hips to your bare back “you don’t know how long i’ve been waiting for this… just you and me” her voice low and raspy. her hands rested back down onto your hips, squeezing them in a way that made your stomach coil.

“i-i don’t get what you’re doing.. let me go aeri” frantically looking around to see if there was any escape, to your misfortune there were none and you were utterly fucked. the grip on your hips became stronger- clearly she didn’t want you to leave “let me go!! aeri please” she felt mean,, seeing you so vulnerable and weak, yet that didn’t stop her. firmly holding you, she moves your hips back and forth across her thighs, eliciting a squeek from you.

“what was that?” a chuckle from her

“what’s so funny? aeri, you’re so fucked up”

another chuckle.

innocent… aeri had the strongest urge to completely destroy your innocence.

again she rocked your hips, this time pressing you down on her thighs harder “a-ah… feels funny” you couldn’t explain it, but there was this weird heat between your legs whenever she moved you against her. it felt alien, yet you didn’t deny that it felt sort of felt good.

despite your pleas she continued to make you ride her. you were an emotional wreck, you felt so fucking scared but at the same time you felt ecstatic. tears fell from your eyes and stained her shirt yet she kept going and going, going so far until you began rocking your hips yourself.

eventually you were fucking yourself on her thighs all by yourself. aeri noticed that and laughed, taking her hands off of your hips and wrapping them around your waist “h-huh… why’d you let go?”

“enjoying yourself? thought you were begging me to stop… or did you secretly want me to do this to you”

she stopped you with another firm grip

“do you want to feel good?” you nod embarrassingly, it felt good… and you wanted more of it, although you didn’t know why it felt like electricity lit your body up.

“mmm..”

“move on your own then” oh the embarassment, the humiliation. you were so innocent that you didn’t know how to move by yourself. aeri had to guide you bc you were sooo clueless, yet here she is telling you to do it on your own while she watches you crumble.

“i don’t know how…”

“figure it out.. you want to feel good right? just move your hips like you did earlier” and you do, moving in slow circles as the fabric on your soaked panties hits your clit in the best way possible.

watching you with a keen eye, aeri felt aroused by you. your innocence slowly fading away with each moan and each thrust, seeing how you pressed your body closer to hers unconsciously and how the way your eyes glistened from the tears you previously shed. you looked like a hot mess and she was glad she contributed to it.

your movements became faster and sloppier, your sighing turned into whimpers and eventually into moans. an unfamiliar tightening in your stomach formed “mmm.. ah- aeri? aeri… coming.. feels like somethings coming”

you stopped abruptly, you felt something rush head to toe, making you scream out aeri’s name. arching your back into aeris embrace.

after a while you calmed down, coming back to reality and shit- aeri just looked at you with a huge grin and hoisted you off of her. eyeing the mess you made on her legs you, again, panic. this time it was more out of concern rather than fear “i’m sorry i didn’t mean to wet myse-“

“it’s not pee dumbass, you came- anyways, did it feel good?”

“it’s not pee?? and what??? also… yeah it felt good…”

it’s safe to say aeri drove you home. you blacking out from waisting your energy on getting yourself off- and because she’s ur bestie she has spare keys to your door. princess carrying you into your bed and making herself comfy in it as well. you and her slept for the god knows how long.

i mean moral of the story let your bestie fuck you i guess idk.. sorry if it seems rushed </33

#wintersera #aespa smut #aespa giselle smut #giselle smut #aespa x fem reader smut #aespa x reader smut #kpop smut #girl group smut #kpop girl group smut

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goldenseresinretriever · 7 months

Text

Snitches Get Stitches: Prologue

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: Jake Seresin, golden boy of the NHL and Captain of the Dallas Stars makes headlines when he unexpectedly signs with newly-formed San Diego Dogfighters. When your future seems at the verge of crashing down, you receive the opportunity of a lifetime to become the team physician for the Dogfighters. You never expected to be working directly with your favorite hockey player. Jake has a secret and you have a job to do. Will he be able to trust you enough to help and will you be able to trust him with your heart?

Chapter CW: 18+ ONLY, Swearing, minor car accident (no one gets hurt), Mav doing Mav things (he’s his own warning). No use of Y/N.

Word count: 1.3k

A/N: Our journey begins! Time to meet our girl, Bugs! I’m so happy to share the San Diego Dogfighters with you, please take good care of them!

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Two weeks out from the end of your fellowship should have felt better. Fifteen years of work and you were so close to the finish line that you could taste it. You’d worked your ass off, topped your classes over and over, sacrificing every bit of your social life, sleep, and general welfare to guarantee that you’d have your choice of job once you came out the other end, and you had. That was at least until three months ago when everything came crashing down. A misunderstanding, a miscalculation, something that felt so far beyond your control and the past fifteen years had been swept out from under your feet. Now you refreshed your email in desperation instead of excitement. You were sitting on a dragon’s hoard of student loans and not a single job offer. The downside of being at one of the top fellowship programs in the country was ironically the same as the upside, they were extremely well-connected. As a result, you were basically blacklisted by every potential employer.

Anyone else would question how you did it, getting out of bed like nothing was wrong and going to your fellowship with a professional smile plastered on your face as if everything was right with the world and you’d be on your way to the first day of your dream job in just two short weeks. It turns out that delusion is highly motivating. You’d refresh your email every morning as if an offer was going to suddenly appear, then go about your day as if maybe this evening something would show. At least that’s how most days went. Today everything that could have gone wrong, had. Your alarm hadn’t gone off because your phone was dead, your charging cord seemingly having given up its last breath sometime over the last twenty-four hours. Then the hot water had been out, for the third time this month, so you were shivering like a drowned sewer rat as you hauled yourself into your car, running too late to make your tea.

Even the Anaheim sun couldn’t seem to warm you as you pulled onto the highway toward Los Angeles. Not even five minutes later a piercing chime sounded through the vehicle and your dismayed gaze fell on your gas light, shining bright since last night, when you had been far too exhausted to brave a seedy gas station in the dark, relegating it as a “tomorrow problem.” Tomorrow was here and you swore defeatedly as you made your way to the next exit, issuing irritated commands at your phone to find the nearest gas station. You swore your whole attention was on the road as you did your best to follow the monotone directions from your speakers as you pulled into the gas station when the motorcycle flashed across your field of vision, fast but not fast enough. You screamed as your brain caught up to the sight in front of you. You didn’t remember putting the car into park in the middle of the entry to the gas station and vaulting out of the vehicle, burying your panic as you go into doctor mode, rushing to the aid of the driver sitting up on the asphalt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir are you alright? I’m a doctor.” You sputtered as he turned to look at you, a rueful smile on his face.

“Oh, no worries, kid, I’m all good.” He scratched the back of his neck as he looked over to his motorcycle which lay abandoned a few feet away. “I need to remember I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to insist that I check to see if you have a concussion.” You glanced around, searching for something. “Especially since you weren’t wearing a helmet.” You couldn’t help the annoyed purse of your lips. He chuckled, nodding as you squat down next to him, fiddling with your phone to turn on the flashlight.

“So, you’re a doctor, huh kid? What kind, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sports medicine, and I mean yes I’m a doctor, I’ve graduated from medical school, but I’m still finishing up my fellowship so I’m not employed as one yet per se.” You sat back on your heels, satisfied that he really was alright. His eyes brightened at your words.

“Sports medicine? What sport are you working with?”

“I’ve worked with a bunch of different ones through my fellowship but my dream job is hockey.” If you ever got a job that was.

His face split into a huge grin. “You don’t say? When do you finish your fellowship?”

“Two weeks… why?” You suddenly remembered that this man was a total stranger as his questions became more specific. It was at that moment that your brain finally exited doctor mode that you realized that he was in fact not a total stranger, not really and you recognized exactly who was sitting on the concrete not even five feet from you. “Oh my fucking god, you’re Pete Mitchell.” The words tumbled out of your mouth in a rush before you could stop them. He barked out a laugh as he extended a dusty hand to you.

“The one and only.” You stared at his hand like you were wondering if it was safe to touch, which is ridiculous. You worked with star athletes for a living and you’ve never gotten star-struck. But that was within the four walls of your job, where you were completely and totally in doctor mode, not squatting in the driveway of a gas station. You shook your head, unsure of how long you’d left him hanging before taking his outstretched hand and shaking it, introducing yourself. “It feels ridiculous to ask, but are you an Anaheim fan?” He asked, flashing his signature grin. You flushed, embarrassed.

“They’re my second favorite but my dad’s a ride-or-die.” Pete laughed at your brutal honesty. “But, I mean, everyone who’s everyone knows you.” You sputtered. “You have one of the longest records in the NHL. 26 years is a long time, and with three cups on top of that? You’re practically hockey royalty.” He smiled, seemingly amused with your floundering.

He stood then, helping you up with him. “Could I get your information?”

“Oh yeah, of course. I’m so sorry about your bike, is it good to drive?” You gave the abandoned motorcycle a worried look. “I’m sure my insurance can cover whatever repairs you need.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” He shook his head gently, laying a fatherly hand on your arm. “I actually wanted to offer you a job. Well, an interview, I’m not actually authorized to offer you a job, not my department.”

“I mean I did hit you with my car, WAIT WHAT?” The full effect of his words hit you like a truck. He laughed again.

“Sweetheart, I promise you I can take care of the damages,” giving you his best I’m a multimillionaire retired athlete look. “And as for the job? I’m serious. You’re clearly responsible, professional, good in a crisis, and the team I’m working with is looking for a physician. Unless of course you’re already committed to another job?”

“No! Uh, no, no I’m not.” Shame crept up your neck. “I really appreciate this, Mr. Mitchell.” You stammered as you fumbled for your wallet and produced a business card that you offered to him, doing your best to hold back the tears of gratefulness threatening to fill your eyes.

“It’s not a problem at all, kid. I’ll be in touch, and please, call me Mav.” He handed you a piece of paper in return and you stared down to see his signature scrawled across it with a brief note Congratulations on such a talented daughter. - Pete “Maverick” Mitchell “Tell your dad I said hi.” He said with a wink before turning away from you to his motorcycle. You stood there, frozen in shock as he got the bike upright and drove away with a wave. The moment he was out of view, the tears escaped your eyes. You’d been desperate for someone to take a chance on you, but never in your wildest dreams would you have expected that person would be Pete fucking Mitchell.

A/N: And we’re on our way!! Sorry no Jake this chapter but Bugs needed to be set on her path before the big meeting. I promise he’ll be in Chapter 1! Thanks for reading and if you want to be on the taglist let me know! As always, asks are always open to talk about the Dogfighters ❤️

#jake x doc #snitches get stitches // sdd #top gun maverick hockey au #tgm hockey au #tgm #jake hangman seresin #top gun maverick #jake seresin #jake seresin x you #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #hangman x reader #hangman x you #no use of y/n #san diego dogfighters au #San Diego Dogfighters #San Diego Dogfighters hockey AU

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bettyshoweduptotheparty · 8 months

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Eras tour thoughts, part 3: Burning the Lover house

So, after my Anti-Hero/Matilda theory, here's another brain dump of thoughts on style choices for the Eras tour, now that the first leg has officially finished and we are on the international leg of the tour. Warning, this is bit of an essay...

This part is about maybe the most glaring visual choice of the whole tour, one that pretty much every swiftie has picked up on: The burning of the Lover house. I've seen a lot of confusion in the fandom about this and some theories about how this could represent 'burning down' her old work as she releases the re-recordings or making space for new albums because the house is full if every room represents an era.

In terms of gaylor theories I've only seen one and that is THIS one by @keepingsecretstokeepyoutk (I hope you don't mind me borrowing your theory for this post). It's a brilliant theory that burning the house is another step on the road to coming out and I'd like to extend this with a few observations on my own.

Firstly, I'd agree that the midnights cover image of Taylor holding the lighter was definitely a sign that something was going to get burned before the tour even started. Even with the midnights songs themselves, if we think of it as a journey of stepping into the daylight, the songs on this album are definitely pretty gay and only one song with he/him pronouns. But back to the lover house...

True to my TRUE Lover

So the lover house to me has always represented her public relationships, it's not where her real lover lives and that is for two reasons:

The OG lover house is in a snow globe (see lover mv) so it is to be displayed/looked at but not to be actually lived in. And

Maybe most importantly, the house doesn't have a kitchen. In all of Taylor's music the centre of her domestic life/the place where her lover is, has always been the kitchen. Dancing in the refrigerator light / barefoot in the kitchen/ you're in the kitchen humming, and so many more. Not to mention that her actual love story literally started with the line 'your kitchen or mine...' So yeah, the absence of a kitchen in the lover house has always been pretty telling to me, that this is the 'love's for show' house and her true lover is somewhere else.

What happens to the house during the Eras tour?

So not surprisingly, the house first appears during the lover era set which is the opening act of the tour. Notably though, it isn't furnished and 'lived in' anymore like it was in the lover mv, it's empty and the lovers have very clearly moved out. It's also not night time anymore, it's now daytime and the sun is shining in through the windows:

The only person we see in it, is Taylor in a yellow dress in the pink bedroom where she climbs into the big mirror and disappears. The first 'burning' then occurs at the end of the set, during the transition to fearless era. The last song of the set is the Archer, during which golden arrows fly around on the stage that form a ball of light that explores into a cascade of sparkling rain that sets the house on fire.

It doesn't really burn like a normal house fire though, it just stands in the rain of sparks, looking almost peaceful and golden. So much so, that she added a massive smoke effect to drive home the message that the house really is burning. Look how much smoke there is:

So at the end of the lover era, the contents of the house and a few of the walls have burned, but the house is still pretty much intact. It can be repaired. And that's pretty spot on for the actual lover era, which was meant to be her coming out era, but ended up just being a nice gentle golden (aka pastels and rainbows) fire that left some damage to her straight image but could ultimately be repaired and the public bearding continued. Keep that in mind, because we now don't see the house again until way later in the show.

1989 - Now it really burns

During the 1989 set (which is the second to last in the show) there is a ton of fire imagery, starting with the flame in the hand and the bed on fire during Wildest dreams and then finally, during Bad Blood, the final song, we see the house again looking a bit charred. Now, this is where things get interesting. We see Taylor walking in wearing Karlie's 2014 VSFS outfit, full strut and including the flick of the cape as she sits down at the vanity. She then flicks a match at the floor and the rooms lights up in blue flames.

So despite this being Taylor, I think the outfit and the strut make it pretty clear that this is Karlie who is lighting the house on fire again. And I think now in hindsight we can safely assume that this was foreshadowing Karlie showing up and setting in motion the events that follow. Even in the last few weeks since Karlie's appearance at the LA show, the fandom has been pretty much on fire over it, no matter what side of the fence you're on. And this time it's not a gentle sparkly rain, it's a blazing inferno, blue first, then it turns orange (or whatever colour normal fire is) before the house eventually collapses in a smoking heap and is gone for good.

video credit: ryan pily on YouTube

So...are we nearing daylight?

My interpretation is, that the blue flames indicate that 1989 TV will have a significant impact on this journey, and the different cover images that we have seen so far have confirmed that for me. They are all imitations of original 1989 era polaroids, but taken outside in broad daylight with seagulls flying freely and Taylor's face smiling on full display. They are also the first re-release covers that have the album title and Taylor's Version written on them so she wants her name on these, which feels significant. Now, I don't think that this will be the 'coming out era' or anything, I still think we are 12-18 months away from the end of this whole process, but I think Karlie showing up was a big shift in the story and I hope we'll be seeing a lot more of her and a lot less of any 'boyfriends'. But let's not forget that the general swiftie fandom still have a long way to go from 'she's straight and has only ever dated men' to 'she's been madly in love with the same woman for the last 10 years'. The house finally collapsing suggest to me that we are done with the bearding narrative, and tbh Taylor seems over it. She's been the happiest ever on this tour and didn't even attempt to look sad over her supposed breakup with Joe... I'm trying to collect my thoughts on how the remaining two re-release albums will further this journey, but it's all a jumble at this point. I wouldn't be surprised if tour visuals for the Asia/Australia/Europe leg of the tour change as time goes on to reveal more as we get closer to rep and debut re-release. And personally, I think that once the tour and all re-releases are done, we will get TS11 and that will be the gayest album yet, songs with she/her pronouns and all. 🤞😉

If you've made it all the way to here - Thank you indeed, you are a star!

(pictures and gifs not mine)

#gaylor #taylor swift #kaylor #gaylor swift #eras tour #1989 tv #the eras tour #lgbetty #lover house theory

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bypandoramaxum · 1 year

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journey through the reefs [an atwow series] chp. 1

summary: after the sudden death of your parents, your life soon turned upside down as the RDA took drastic measures to advance their colonisation of Pandora, which led to you being used as their guinea pig in their sick games.

[next]

pairings: ao’nung [25] x fem!human!reader [20]

word count: 3.4k

warnings: depictions of death of parents, swearing, abduction, restraints, manipulation, coercion, human experimentation, surgery, reader wanting out and everyone else being a dick to her.

a/n: it’s been so long since I last wrote a fanfic, let alone a series. I’m feeling confident about this one, as the ideas keep flowing in my brain. hope you’ll enjoy this first chapter!~

»»————-　.　————-««

It was almost as if the universe itself was mourning with you, conveying the deep sorrow that had longed settled within your weary heart through heavy raindrops against the windowpanes as you watched the two cardboard caskets that laid both your parents were slowly being transferred into the crematoriums for a final send off.

This was not the goodbye you expected to bid to the two most prominent figures of your measly life. It was almost too sudden, too hasty, unbelievable really. Your tearful gaze numbingly watched as the doors of the crematoriums slammed shut, but still leaving an opening for you to witness the golden flames erupting around the caskets, which oddly helped in allowing you to process and acknowledge the gravity of the reality you were experiencing.

A vast array of emotions swarmed you intensely, trying to overtake each other, making your head spin in the process, not knowing which one to feel.

But one thing was for certain.

Loneliness.

Never again would you hear your mother knocking on your bedroom door before entering, telling you good morning in that gentle, soothing, hush voice of hers, paired with the soft strokes of her hand against the flow of your hair.

The sounds of sips coming from your father drinking his morning cup of tea would soon become a distant memory soon. His usual question of how you slept last night can only be heard within the confines of your recollection.

The day ended with you being escorted out of the crematorium by your parents’ scientist colleagues, who, for the record, did not seem too upset by the events that played out for the day. It almost seemed as if the whole funeral was just another tedious task that had to be carried out before they could move on to their next one at hand. Well, it wasn’t like that wasn’t obvious, considering they couldn’t even get proper coffins to lay your parents to rest, as if common decency was a thing of the past.

Truthfully, no one really held proper funerals anymore, not in this current millennium at least. With the Earth flooded with overpopulation, people are dying at a larger and faster rate. Something quick had to be done to make room for others more.

“Well, let’s get back to business, shall we? We’ve stalled long enough, thanks to the cry-baby over here.” a man huffed as he straightened his lab coat, ready to get back to work.

Dr. Kurtis Aragon. The man who had your parents serve as his apprentices, unfortunately. You had overheard countless stories of him from them, mostly of how he had no problem blatantly mistreating his staff into obeying his every order, no matter how detriment the consequences might be of said actions, as it was either his way or the highway.

His views of the surrounding world were black and white, leaving no room for doubt. He truly believed his words held gravity compared to the opinions of those around him, and he made sure people knew their places in the lab.

“Since your folks have proved themselves to be fairly incompetent in their roles, I have no choice but to have you continue their work for me.”

“After all, you are the offspring of two rather gifted individuals despite what happened. I’m sure you won’t disappoint me too quickly like they did.” he added.

You could feel your blood boiling, face flushing with anger. Begrudgingly, you held back and replied,

“Since when was it decided that I’ve signed up for any of this?”

“Since your parents signed a legal contract stating that if anything were to happen to them, guardianship of you shall be transferred over to me.” said Dr. Aragon as he pulled out an envelope from his lab coat, handing it to you.

You snatched it from him, tearing the envelope urgently and began reading through the contract. Fresh tears started brimming at your eyes as you read the terms and conditions of said contract. There was no way. Your parents wouldn’t have entrusted your well-being to this man, knowing how much misery he brought to them.

“This is all bullshit! There’s no way they agreed to this. You must’ve threatened them into signing it.” you yelled as the tears ran down your cheeks, balling up the contract before chucking it to the ground. “I don’t care what this contract says. I rather be dead than work for you or your sick cause.”

“Now, it’s not up to you, now is it, little girl? Doesn’t matter whether they agreed to it or not, what’s done is done. With their signature sealing the deal, I have the willpower to do what I wish with you. You possess great qualities and potential for the RDA’s future, and I plan on fully utilising it.” Dr. Aragon paid no heed to your outburst, lighting a cigarette as he spoke.

“Looks like we’re going to have to do this the hard way, little one. Boys, you know the drill.” Dr. Aragon mumbled before gesturing to his men.

“To hell with the RDA! You all are the reason why my folks are dead in the first place, and now you’re looking for your next guinea pig to continue the colonisation of that beautiful moon. Well, count me out! Screw you all.” you declared before storming off into the heavy rain, allowing it to wet the black dress you wore.

“Yes, sir.” they obeyed before marching to you, surrounding you.

“Move, assholes!” you yelled as you tried to push through them to no avail.

“Listen, you are coming with us whether you like it or not.” said one of the men cladded in military gear.

“I don’t have to do jack shit for anyone. You can’t make m-“ your rage was cut short when you felt volts of electricity surge through your being, making you fall to the ground before knocking you unconscious.

The men wasted no time in restraining you and throwing your drenched, sleeping body into the readied vehicle, waiting to bring you to God knows where. Dr. Aragon just stood there, watching the whole thing unfold with a smug smirk on his face, simultaneously taking puffs from his cigarette.

“Seems like she’s going to be a handful, huh?” one of the scientist next to him uttered.

“She’ll learn to comply soon enough. We just need to give her the right push, that’s all.” Dr. Aragon replied as he took one last puff of smoke before throwing the cigarette to the ground, stepping on it to put out the flames.

“I’ve got one good trick up my sleeve that’ll surely get her to obey.”

“And just what might that be?”

“We’ll have to get her to Pandora first. While she’s in cryo-sleep, we shall get everything ready to perform Operation: Lab Rat. Our next project will be targeting the reef clans.”

Dr. Aragon let out a wicked chuckle, almost as if understanding where this plan was going.

“I knew I could count on my best student.”

»»————-　.　————-««

Five years later…

Waking up had never felt so draining before. Sure, a little sleepy and drowsy, perhaps an urge to fall back asleep just to bask in a few more minutes of comfort, but this time, it came with a throbbing headache. You tried your best to fall back asleep, in hopes to be rid of it, but you found your attempts futile.

Looking around, blue light surrounded the little space you were in. Your body was strapped in by safety belts, and you could feel yourself floating slightly. It didn’t take long for the panic to start setting in, as your hands started wandering, looking for any possible escape from wherever you were in.

All of a sudden, you feel yourself being ejected from the claustrophobic confinement, white light shining directly onto you. As you looked around, you were met with a figure floating in front of you, cladded in medical wear.

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.” the man said, in an attempt to joke lightly.

“Where am I?” you asked hesitantly, fearing the possible answers.

“We’re on our way to Pandora. Almost there, in fact.” he replied, patting your shoulder comfortingly.

His words stunned you, eyes widened in true shock. You looked around you to see others being ejected from their sleep capsules, unbuckling themselves from the safety restraints, which prompted you to do the same.

If what that man said was true, then that could only mean…

No, there was no way. This had to be a nightmare. All you had to do was close your eyes again and fall back asleep. You would be right back in your childhood bedroom in no time.

“I need everyone’s attention! It has been 5 years, 7 months, and 13 days since departure. You will feel hungry and weak to the bones. Please rehydrate yourself immediately with the water bottles in your lockers.” one of the staff announced to the room.

The look of dread on your face was no secret at this point. You didn’t care to hide your worries and panic anymore as your frantic outburst alerted everyone in the shared space, startling many of them.

It took a group of five men holding you to get you under control. That didn’t stop you from voicing your thoughts out loud, making sure your problem was now everyone else’s as well.

“Let me go! Take me home! Get me out of here! I’ll send you all to hell myself if it’s the last thing I’ll ever do.” you screamed at the top of your lungs, empty threats being thrown around, mostly directed to the men restraining you.

“Sedate her immediately!” Dr. Aragon called out to the men; frustration painted his expression. “Can’t have this little bitch causing a goddamn ruckus on my ship.”

“You! You’ll be first on my hit list, motherfucker! Be glad they’re holding me back, ‘cause once I get the chance, you’ll be begging me for mer-“

You felt something sharp pierce your arm, halting your verbal assault. You tried fighting against the drowsiness, but it soon overtook you easily as you succumbed to the effects of the sedation, putting you to sleep once more.

The men were then instructed to bring you to a holding cell while the scientists bunch had an impromptu meeting together, with Dr. Aragon fuming.

“What did I say about waking her up with the other crew members? Do you imbeciles just not listen to anything I say? Her antics could’ve costed us our only chance at getting the operation running smoothly.” Dr. Aragon lectured his team sternly, his being shaking from anger.

“We are terribly sorry, sir. It seems there was an error in communication with the medical team. We’ll ensure nothing of sort will occur again.” Thomas answered apologetically, gesturing to his fellow colleagues to do the same.

“I expect better from all of you, especially you, Thomas. You’ve been with me the longest so far and this is the work being presented to me?”

“It was never my intention to disappoint you at all, sir. All I want is to provide a better life for all of humanity and serve the RDA. Please, allow me to prove it to you, and I’ll be sure to give my very best to our current cause.”

The glare that Dr. Aragon was giving Thomas was deeply unsettling. It didn’t allow him to read through his boss’ emotions at all. He couldn’t predict what his answer could be towards his pathetic plea of proving himself worthy in the eyes of the RDA. Despite that, his eye contact never faltered, hoping his determination will overshadow his nervousness.

“Once we land, notify the sterile team to have a room prepared immediately. I don’t wish to delay Operation: Lab Rat any longer. The medical team better be ready to get their hands dirty.” Dr. Aragon broke the uncomfortable silence before leaving his team.

“Yes, sir!” everyone shouted in unison, scampering to get ready for landing.

»»————-　.　————-««

The shuttle soon landed on the far east of Pandora, nearby a fleet of ships that were waiting, ready to transport the newcomers to the outskirts of Pandoran reefs. Neighbouring the Metkayina and Ta’unui clans, but still hidden enough to not alarm any of the natives. Stealth was required to ensure the colonisation of the area ran smoothly.

Soldiers geared up marched into their respective troops, the sound of combat boots synchronising. Dr. Aragon and his team were escorted onto one of the ships, with the medical team behind them pushing your once again unconscious self, secured on a stretcher with an oxygen mask. Once everyone boarded, the ship set sail and the journey to the nearby RDA base began.

“Let’s not waste any more time than we already have! Medical and sterile, gear up and get to work!” Dr. Aragon instructed with a stern tone.

“Yes, sir!” his team responded as they directed your stretcher to one of the readied surgical rooms.

»»————-　.　————-««

Doctors and nurses were busy prepping your body for the experimental procedure, while at the same time sick with worry, but not for you, however. Knowing that any failure on this would end up with someone within the base being the next test subject. The unspoken dread seems to spread all across the room as it was dead silent other than the sound of surgical tools clanking against each other.

“Jesus, just thinking about what could happen if we fuck this up again makes me want to throw up.” one of the nurses whispered.

“Well, gee, you sure know how to set the mood, huh?” another nurse replied sarcastically.

“You’re really not worried one bit? We’ve been at this for God knows how many times, and there’s not been one success case in our books.”

“Of course, I’m worried, goddamnit! I’m just trying not to think about it at the moment. So do me a favour and shut your trap!”

“How about we stop all this bickering and focus on the task at hand? It’s best not to anger the big boss of the ship.” the head nurse, Tori, intervened before a bigger argument could set off.

A few minutes had passed before Dr. Aragon entered the room, cladded in a surgical suit. Everyone stood frozen in their spots, awaiting their next order to be given.

Dr. Aragon strode over to the surgical bed, giving the marking drawn onto your sternum and just below the diaphragm a quick study before picking up a scalpel that was laid on a tray.

“Your sacrifice shall not go unsung, kid.” he said before gesturing to his team to follow his lead.

»»————-　.　————-««

Twelve hours later…

Most of the staff collapsed onto the cold vinyl flooring of the room, some of them shedding tears after a long, torturous procedure on you. The ones left standing were finishing up the stitches from your successful surgery. In fact, you were their very first and only success case ever since the RDA deemed the avatar program too expensive to continue and started their lengthy and experimental respiratory enhancing surgery on countless unwilling participants, with the hope that these test subjects can breathe Pandoran air with no need for an oxygen mask. None of them ever saw the light of day again.

Except for you.

Little did you know that this was just the beginning of your brand new existence. Your current purpose was to serve and be loyal to the RDA, and that sooner or later, you would learn to obey and do as you were told.

»»————-　.　————-««

Two weeks later…

As your eyes struggled to open, you were forced to shut them again as a bright white shine blinded your vision for a moment. Once your eyes have adjusted to the light, you looked around your surroundings to find that you were in a well-conditioned room. The softness and comfort that you felt yourself lying on signalled to you were most likely in the hospital. Have you been rescued from the RDA? Were you back on Earth? Or was all of it just a bad dream and all of that never even happened?

You were about to relish in sweet relief, only for it to be cut short when you went to raise your arm to rub the sleep from your eyes, but it was stopped short by a handcuff that was linking your wrist to the metal bed frame. You looked over to your other arm to find that it was cuffed as well.

The violent clunking that you caused had alerted a group of nurses as they rushed into the room to calm you down.

“Now, dear, I know you must be confused and terrified, but you must calm down.” one of the nurses reassured.

“Where am I? Why am I here? What have you people done to me? ANSWER ME!” you cried out angrily, continuing your struggle.

“Call the doctor in! NOW!” the head nurse ordered.

The room stared in awe and shock as Dr. Aragon walked into the room. Next to him, stood an almost ten foot tall avatar wearing a green tank top and camo cargo pants. Your eyes were immediately drawn to the figure next to the doctor, the fear and anxiety evident in your eyes.

“So, this one here was a success, huh?” the avatar voiced out while staring down at you menacingly.

“She is the first one. But not to worry, as I do plan to continue producing more test subjects.” Dr. Aragon responded. “Sooner or later, humans shall be taking over this moon without needing the aid of these dumb masks.”

The avatar chuckled at that statement before striding over to you, kneeling down to speak to you directly.

“I’m Colonel Quaritch, commander of the first Recom Squad. Just thought you should know the face of the person you’ll be taking orders from.”

“And why would I be taking any orders from the likes of you?” you spat while grimacing at the colonel.

Quaritch lips pulled into a smirk, as if he was expecting this sort of response from you. He then gestured to the other humans in the room.

“Take a good look at every single one of them. All masked up.”

You looked around the room, scanning every human face in there. They were all, in fact, masked up. You however…

…could breathe with ease.

“H… How?” you stuttered.

“Let’s just say we gave your respiratory system a bit of an… upgrade, so to speak.” Quaritch replied nonchalantly. “Financing the avatar program is getting a little too hefty for our budget, so we needed a more affordable project to continue our operation.”

All of this was getting too much for you. The stress of everything that had happened finally took a toll on your poor soul. Tears started flowing down your rosy cheeks as you sobbed pathetically in front of your audience. Everything that has happened up to this point had sealed your fate forever.

You would never see Earth again.

You would never be able to sit at your parents’ graves for a chat.

Your education could never advance.

You would never experience another day of normalcy in your pitiful existence.

“Why are you doing this? Why me? What have I done to deserve this? Please, just let me go. I promise I won’t tell anyone about this. Let me go home, please.” you begged sorrowfully, any ounce of dignity thrown away at this point.

“I’m afraid we can’t do that, sweetheart.” Quaritch responded, moving to sit at the foot of the bed.

“You’re the first one to ever survive this dangerous and risky procedure. Your value here is far too important for us to just let you go. With your help, you’ll be giving mankind another chance at a better life. Treat this as a fresh start for yourself.”

You knew there was no backing out from this situation in anyway, shape and form. Your only choices on the table were to either die, possibly painfully, or follow the lead of the RDA. You weren’t exactly thrilled to be alive at this point, but entertaining the idea of death so soon wasn’t something you were up for either.

But maybe you could get yourself out of this, the only thing you needed was patience and hope, and you prayed that you would be able to stay loyal to those traits.

You allowed yourself to relax back onto the bed before turning to face Quaritch, looking him dead in the eyes.

“So, where do I start, Colonel?”

»»————-　.　————-««

a/n: that’s the end of chapter one! let me know what you think and stick around for chapter two.

like and reblog if you enjoyed!~

#bypandoramaxum #avatar #avatar 2 #avatar the way of water #avatar x reader #avatar x human reader #avatar x human!reader #human reader #na'vi x human #ao'nung #ao'nung avatar #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung x human!reader #miles quaritch #quaritch #avatar fanfic #avatar fanfiction

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herelieskrisy · 4 months

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We need more tlou3 ellie x reader

There are two tropes I’m an absolute bitch, whore, and slut for. Ellie x reader as mothers and ellie x reader after the events of the last of us part two!

My bored and lonely brain was thinking as usual and I realized we don’t have enough ellie x reader post-epilogue. Which is like… why? The amount of angst and eventual fluff that could be added is insane. Watching Ellie grapple with the gut-wrenching aftermath of grief and slowly finding her new purpose. Becoming her old self again and healing with a new lover along the way.

I started thinking of story ideas and settled on this one being my favorite. It might be crap or it might be genius, I dunno.

(just imagine how desperate and passionate the smut would be)

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!!!THIS IS JUST A SUMMARY NOT AN ACTUAL FIC!!!

౨ৎ Ellie’s spent months in Jackson trying to make amends with Dina and JJ. There are hard consequences she has to face, being that betrayal isn’t easily forgotten, and every single street corner and creaky saloon reminds her of Joel Miller. This town used to be a safe haven, a sanctuary where she was met with warm people and even warmer memories. Memories turn to bittersweet shackles that tug her back from being full, leaving an empty shell of what once was. She thought her new purpose was getting her family back, but that wasn’t enough. There’s no fairness to her finding comfort in the arms of a former lover she hurt so bad, left to rot just like all the other lives sacrificed in the name of her living. Talks of fireflies banding together to build communities and restore humanity leave Ellie curious as she’s reminded of the cross-country journey that brought her to this position in the first place. Jerry Anderson is dead thanks to her, so there’s no hope for a vaccine, but there might be a sliver of light for a second chance. Ellie yearns to be apart of something greater. A journey that could once again fill the void that is her soul. She’s taken enough from this barren Earth already, why not give back? Setting off for the fireflies, she’s met with a familiar face from her past, the murderer of Joel Miller.

Abby Anderson and Ellie Williams share two things in common. They have the same goals of building a larger group of survivors, and they’ve taken a liking to you.

You who became close friends with Abby soon after she found the fireflies on Catalina Island with a scrawny scar-faced boy accompanying her. She might be the most genuine person you’ve ever met, which makes it shameful when you start giggling a little too hard at a certain auburn-haired girl’s jokes. The same auburn-haired girl who’s constantly mentioned in Abby’s tales of the crazy immune chic who used to be set on killing her.

Ellie wasn’t looking to make friends on this mission. She wanted to seek the fireflies and support them in whatever greater goal they had in store. However, she feels this sweet tangy guilt when she finds herself admiring the way you laugh at her jokes. The way your lips quirk up in a grin that’s all too amused to be friendly. With Dina and JJ still hot on her mind, she insists that you’re nothing but a friend crush. But it’s been months and Dina still hasn’t taken her back, understandably so… Maybe it wouldn’t hurt for Ellie to seek comfort in another’s touch. Maybe the fear of not being good enough for her former family can be set aside. Just for now, while she’s knuckles deep in your cunt. She swears to herself it’s a fling and you’re nothing more than a placeholder. A placeholder who Ellie happens to hold very, very dear to her heart. We change people like seasons change color, and as seasons pass the old is replaced with something new. A fresh start might be what this crazy immune chic needs.

Stolen campfire kisses, deep late night conversations, and talks of the stars reignite a spark in the pits of Ellie’s core. If you light a match in front of a moth, it’ll chase it. And baby you’re a whole wildfire.

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I wouldn’t plan on this being an ellie x reader x abby love triangle, but after writing that summary out I’m realizing it has potential to be one. Love triangles are just a bit cliche to my liking and I’d want this to be super Ellie focused. Like from her pov and everything. It’s about her emotional rollercoaster and learning to love/be loved again.

Exploring Ellie’s dynamics with different people is so yummy and I feel like this wouldn’t just be a romance for Ellie x reader, but also an enemies to friends for Ellie x Abby.

Once again, I’m not a writer so I’ll probably never turn this into a series. If there ARE any writers out there who are interested in this idea and would wanna work together I’d be so down.

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javier-pena · 1 year

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the overlook

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader x Tess Servopoulos

Word Count: 23.3k

Rating: Explicit

Summary: When you almost get killed, Joel and Tess are there to rescue you. They take you in and Joel nurses you back to health. When you discover that Joel and Tess are in a relationship, tension rises until it inevitably breaks.

Notes: Well, here it is, one and half months after I first mentioned it. As it turns out, I wrote a short novella about Joel and Tess and their little hideaway high up in the mountains that they suddenly have to share with someone else. HUGE thanks to Dani @joel-tess (which is a very fitting URL lmao) for spending two whole weeks reading this and leaving helpful comments and pointing out that I start half my sentences with 'but' and the other half with 'and'. I hope the end result is worthy of the show, at least I was trying to make this about love and what it means to love in a world that runs on hopelessness and hate.

***

Everything hurts. Every bone, every muscle, every movement, no matter how small. Are your eyes closed or open? Is it day or night? Those things lose all meaning in a world where you’re so close to death. You don’t even feel the clammy wetness of the snow because the ache in your side makes everything else seem less important.

A gurgling sound escapes your throat, and you stop breathing, just for a little while, but long enough for panic to kick in. Your body doesn’t want to die. It hasn’t accepted its fate yet, the one your mind has made peace with. The blood you cough up lands sticky on your lips and chin. There’s really no coming back from this. You don’t want to spend your last minutes on Earth fighting and struggling – you don’t want to die how you lived.

Now you start to feel the cold seeping in through your torn pants, making your legs numb. Or maybe that’s just what dying feels like. Maybe your body is shutting down, limb by limb. First your legs, then your arms, and soon all that will be left will be your brain, your thoughts, all the things you regret, all the things you should have done differently, all the chances you didn’t take. Just like your body that should accept your journey is coming to an end, you too should accept that you did the best you could in a world that has been trying to kill you from the start. Maybe you should be proud you’ve made it this far. There is no shame in dying in a cold, dark forest under the stars, no shame at all in accepting defeat when faced with an enemy that is so much stronger than you are.

Your eyes are open now, and you can see the dark outlines of the trees surrounding you, the darker, more solid shadows moving between the trunks. Maybe they’ve come back to gloat, or to finish the job. It doesn’t matter – why should you spend your last minutes worrying? Coughing, you turn your head to look up at the sky again, at the vastness above you. Yes, you never thought you would die here, today, but there are also worse ways to go, darker, more painful ones. Maybe you should be grateful you’re not dying in an abandoned warehouse, chained, gagged, discarded. You’re free, out in the open, able to breathe clean air, feel a gentle breeze on your cheeks. And you’re not alone, not with thousands of stars twinkling above you, and the forest whispering sweet nothings.

Your eyes are closed now, and you can feel yourself drift off. There is no more fight left in your body, no more struggle against the inevitable. You feel warm all over, as if someone is hugging you, refusing to let go. Surrendering is so simple, so easy. In death there are no more expectations, no reason to worry about snapping branches and heavy steps. All those things are irrelevant now – what matters is to let go. Once you’ve done that, you’ll be free. You already are free you realize with a burst of relief. Those heavy footfalls close to you, they don’t fill you with worry or dread or fear. It’s not even indifference that you’re feeling. You just feel nothing.

Nothing at all.

*******

Death is colder than you expected.

It’s a cold, harsh wind that cuts your face and burns your hand. All those stories about a bright light, about an engulfing warmth were lies. As were those about pain vanishing because you feel it burning, eating away at your side, even more intense than it was before. Or maybe there is a Hell after all, and instead of being filled with fire and brimstone and screams and horrors, it’s this – having to go on how you died, cold and in pain, unable to escape your mistakes and regrets.

Do you deserve to be in Hell? You’re not sure. Probably not any more or less than everyone else you know. Yes, you killed people, but who didn’t? At least you never killed without having a good reason. You didn’t lead an honest life, but no one could under these circumstances. Lying and cheating and manipulating was what kept you alive for all these years. If you hadn’t allowed yourself to make some mistakes, you would’ve died much sooner. But maybe that was the point – if you had stopped fighting, maybe there would be light and warmth waiting for you now.

Blood tickles the back of your throat but you’re too weak to cough. All you can do is lie there, the copper taste filling your mouth before you feel yourself drift off into unconsciousness. At least you’re allowed this short break. Maybe death isn’t so bad after all.

*******

Death smells like gasoline and disinfectant, it smells like burning trash and blood. That doesn’t surprise you now that you’ve made peace with never being embraced by that warm light. Death is also quiet, calm. No more rustling leaves, no more heavy steps – just silence. If the smell wasn’t so bad it made you retch, you would think you were back home, in your childhood bedroom, before the world was fucked up and you lost everything. Or maybe you have to experience it all over again, the loss, the pain, the heartbreak. Maybe that’s your punishment for killing and lying and cheating. It could be worse, you decide. It’s nothing you don’t know, nothing you can’t live with.

Watching your mother being executed by soldiers? You replay those few short seconds every day, and have been for 15 years. Reliving the pain of your brother beating you until you couldn’t get up? You forgave him for that a long time ago because he was right – you deserved it. Being gagged and bound so you couldn’t run off, unable to escape your father selling you to a group of men when you were barely 22? Back then, you thought it was the worst thing that could happen to you. You laugh. Life had so much worse in store for you.

All those memories can’t hurt you anymore, but there is just one … one day you don’t want to relive. Still, there is no sense in worrying about it now. You can submit to the guilt and self-hatred when you get there. And maybe you won’t. Maybe something else entirely is about to happen, something much worse than you could ever imagine. No one knows what happens after death, but you’re about to find out.

*******

The voices have been with you for quite some time, but you still can’t recognize them. You can’t be sure, but you don’t think you’ve heard them before. It’s odd – isn’t this supposed to be about your life, your memories? Maybe you could place them if you could understand what they were saying, but it’s impossible to make out. You’re fairly certain there are at least one man and one woman. Sometimes you can hear her laughing, sometimes she shouts and growls. His voice is always the same, a deep rumble, monotone.

It could be that you know them. You’ve met so many people over the course of your life, so many strangers, some of them good, some of them cold and cruel and dangerous. But if the man and the woman are significant to you, significant to learning one final lesson, then why don’t you recognize them? And why can’t you understand what they’re saying? What’s the point to it all?

When you realize you can open your eyes, it comes as a shock to you, and you immediately close them again. You don’t want to see because you don’t want to know where you are, but your left arm itches and burns, and you can’t move your right hand to feel out what the problem might be. You also can’t move your left arm or your legs for that matter. So, if you want to find out what’s going on, you’re going to have to open your eyes sooner or later.

You’re breathing too fast but you can’t help it. If this is death, then why are you so terrified? The worst thing that could happen to you has already happened. There is nothing worse, nothing more final than dying. Still, you pant like a rabbit caught in a trap, your heart fluttering inside your chest when you finally manage to force yourself to open your eyes. And you see nothing, just darkness, not entirely black but too dense to make out much except a lamp somewhere above your head, the lightbulb cold and dark. It could be worse.

Even with your breathing still too fast and your heart still fighting with everything it has, you manage to turn your head to the left. You can make out an IV bag next to the surface you’re lying on, its line leading to your arm, buried in the crook of it. You groan, and try to lift your right hand again to free yourself but you can’t. You can’t and you don’t know why and the room is spinning and spinning and … you realize.

You’re tied down.

You can feel the coarse leather against your skin now, against both wrists and around your ankles. This can’t be death – it’s too much like life, too much like what you’re used to. A disappointed sob forces its way out of your chest, followed by a dry heave. Not only did you fail to escape, you ended up in a worse situation than before. Panic grips you, cold and hard, and you don’t hear yourself screaming but you must have because a door bangs open and the voices are in the room with you now.

You lose consciousness … you don’t want to know.

*******

You dream of a mountain stream, cold and clear. You dream of the ocean, of waves rolling in, quietly at first, then louder and louder. You dream of birds in the sky, of your gun in your hand. You dream of red sunrises, of fire burning flesh, of the iron taste of blood.

You dream of her.

You don’t want to dream of her, so you wake yourself up. But the only thing that awaits you is the horror of still being alive, of still being trapped in a windowless room, hooked up to an IV bag, tied down, with no idea about where you are, what time it is, and what they want from you. And you wish you had died in that forest under the stars, so the snow could have covered your body, and you would have been forgotten. But you’re refused that one final kindness, even now, when you have nothing left to lose.

There are sounds outside the locked door – it’s bound to be locked, isn’t it? You can’t get up and check, but there is no point anyway. You’ve been confronted with enough locked doors in your life to know better than to expect anything else. The sounds are loud, metallic, like someone is working on something, destroying it. You don’t hear voices anymore, you don’t hear the man or the woman, you don’t know if it’s one of them out there or someone else entirely. And it’s probably best that you don’t. The sooner you find answers to those questions you’re chewing on, the sooner you’ll be in danger again.

The sounds stop and your entire body tenses. You try to move but you can’t – all you get as a reward is a sharp pain in your left side, right where the bullet hit you. But it’s much softer compared to the pain you felt lying in the snow. It doesn’t take up so much of your mental capacity now and you can breathe through it. Almost as if someone tended to the wound and it’s healing. But before you can ponder that possibility you hear a key being turned in the lock of your door and it swings open, bringing a beam of light with it.

You don’t want to see, so you close your eyes, pretend you are still asleep. It won’t save you, it never has before, but it might buy you some time, prolong the inevitable for a little while longer. But your breathing is too fast, your body is too tense – you’re not fooling anyone.

You hear footsteps that sound heavy against the hard floor. One pair of boots, so at least you’ll only have to deal with one of them for now. Not that you can deal with anyone in the condition you’re in, but it’s still a small consolation.

“I know you’re awake.” A deep voice. A man’s voice.

You don’t move. He doesn’t know shit.

He sighs, moves closer to the bed you’re lying on, but he doesn’t touch you, doesn’t hit you. Instead, you feel an uncomfortable tug on your arm as he checks the IV. And that’s it. That’s all he does. Soon, you hear his footsteps receding, moving back toward the door. And you risk one glance at him before he shuts it behind himself.

You should focus on the gun and knife strapped to his side, on the fact that you could easily grab them from your position if you weren’t tied down. Instead, all you can see is his profile, mostly hidden in shadow, his strong jaw and big nose, his furrowed brow. And despite all your instincts, despite everything you had to learn the hard way, you want to believe he’s not planning on hurting you.

What a foolish thought to have.

*******

The next time you wake up, the restraints on your ankles and wrists are gone. You notice it immediately because you’re curled up on your side in a tight ball, hugging yourself. But once you realize that, you shoot upright, pulling the needle from your arm with the quick movement. Before you can jump out of the bed, you feel a yank and a metallic clang puts you back in your place. Yes, the leather is gone, but you’re still handcuffed to the bed. You’re only able to move more as long as you’re not planning on getting up.

“Sleep well?”

It takes everything in you not to scream. You’ve been alone in this room for so long, waking up alone for so long, you weren’t expecting someone else to be there with you. And that’s on you – you really should know better after living like this for 15 years.

The room is still dark, except for a lamp right next to your bed that’s bright enough to let you guess the dimensions of the space you’re in. Outside the circle of light, just beyond what you can comfortably see, the man who checked up on you … hours ago – maybe days ago – sits on a chair, leaned back, legs spread, arms crossed over his chest. Today, you can’t pretend you’re still asleep.

“Who are you?” Your voice is hoarse from screaming, it’s hoarse because you’re parched.

He nods at you. “Drink.”

You take your eyes off him for a second to see there’s a glass of water on a small table next to the bed. You don’t touch it.

He sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “It’s not poisoned if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Who are you?”

Would knowing really help you? Probably not. But it would give you back some control. It would make you feel like you were more than a good he’s going to barter the first chance he gets.

“My name is Joel.” He looks at his hands when he says it, so you can’t see his eyes. You can’t know if he’s telling the truth, but there is no reason for him to lie. Joel. He could be anyone and no one, but he’s the man who’s currently holding you captive.

“Where am I? Why am I here?”

Joel sighs again. “I ain’t the one … I’m just supposed to make sure you don’t dehydrate. Drink.”

You shake your head.

“You almost died out there. Hell, you almost died in here, too. You need fluids.”

What he says makes sense. You were there, after all, lived through the whole thing. But this is after, and no one helps anyone after the world perishes, at least not out of the kindness of their hearts. The water is probably laced with drugs so he can put you under again. You know better than to expect anything from strangers. You knew better before, and you certainly know better after.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

He pushes himself out of his chair, and you push yourself back so your head makes painful contact with the hard metal wall behind you. He doesn’t need to drug you for whatever it is he wants to do to you. You couldn’t defend yourself in the state you’re in, even if it was your life on the line. But he doesn’t touch you. He picks up the glass of water and takes one big gulp, spilling some of it down his chin and chest. The reverberating sound that comes with him putting it back down echoes around your head.

“There. Happy?”

He lets himself fall back into the chair and crosses his arms again. A few drops of water cling to his beard but he doesn’t wipe them away. He doesn’t do anything except stare at you.

You shouldn’t do it. Maybe he’s immune to whatever he put in your glass, maybe a small dose doesn’t have any effect on him. But you’re too thirsty to care. Your mouth is dry and sticky at the same time, and your throat aches for some relief, for some water.

The water is so cold the first sip sends a shiver down your spine and makes your teeth hurt. But after that it gets easier and easier and you drink it down faster and faster until there is nothing left and your empty stomach feels so full it hurts. He doesn’t say anything, just takes the empty glass from you and makes to leave.

“Hey,” you call after him. Hey, Joel, you want to say, but it feels too intimate. “Untie me?”

He doesn’t even shake his head before he closes and locks the door behind himself.

*******

The soup burns your lips and tongue, but you’re too greedy to pay much attention to the pain. It’s nothing special, just some roots and mushrooms, and a few pieces of lean meat, but it’s the best meal you’ve ever had. Joel watches you drink down the soup, one hand resting on his knee, the other hanging down, hovering close to the gun. He expects you to throw the soup in his face, and you can’t even be upset he thinks so little of you because you were considering it for a second.

“Be careful, it’s hot.” It’s too late for that warning, but he says it anyway.

“Do you think you’ll untie me today?” you ask, moving your bound wrist so the handcuff scrapes against the handle you’re tied to. You’re still in the same room, tied to the same hospital bed, but at least the IV is gone.

He smacks his lips. “Nope.”

“I won’t run,” you promise. “Honestly, Joel, where do you think I would go? You still won’t even tell me where I am.”

“You don’t need to be untied if you want to stay right here.” You’ve heard this a million times.

“Don’t you think it’s time you trusted me?”

He huffs. Sometimes he says, “You clearly don’t trust me,” sometimes he gets up and leaves. Today, he just quietly watches you as you drink your soup.

You know he doesn’t want to harm you. He had plenty of opportunities in the three weeks you’ve been living under his roof. That’s something else you know – three weeks. Two of those you spent drifting in and out of consciousness, hovering between life and death. One you spent trying to convince Joel to unlock the handcuffs.

The one thing you still don’t know is why you’re here. What does he want with you? Why is he keeping you alive? Why is he nursing you back to health? Sometimes you aren’t even sure if he knows the answers to those questions himself. But the stronger you get, the more you’re looking for answers. And the more you push him, the more he shuts down.

“Where am I, Joel?” You’ve asked him this so many times that the words have started to sound fake.

“You’re safe.” He replies, and as always, those words sound like a lie.

“If I’m safe, then why are you holding me captive?” Why am I still locked up? Why don’t you want to untie me? What’s behind that door? You’ve tried countless variations on that same question and he’s found countless ways to avoid answering them.

“Would you like some more soup?” He nods at your empty bowl.

Yes, you would, but you also want to get up and move about. Wordlessly, you hold out the bowl and he takes it from you, always careful not to come too close to you, so you can’t grab the knife or the gun. You tried, of course you did, and you failed miserably. You still have the bruise on your arm to prove it.

Joel walks through the door but leaves it open. He sometimes does that because there is nothing of interest to you to see beyond it. Just a table, and a calendar on the wall opposite. August 2003, and a picture of a golden-fronted woodpecker, a tiny red berry held gently in its open beak. Its eye looks red, too. You guess there must be a stove somewhere (or at least a gas cooker) or Joel wouldn’t be able to cook soup. But that’s it. You don’t know how many other rooms there are (if there are any), you don’t know how many other people there are (if there are any). Wasn’t there a woman here while you were fighting for your life? You can’t be sure. And asking Joel is useless – you’ve tried.

“Here.” You take the soup from him and he sits back down to watch you as before. “Be careful, it’s hot.” You’re trapped in a loop.

“Why do you always do that?” you ask, holding the bowl in your hands, letting it warm your cold fingers. “Why do you always watch me eat?”

A puff is your only answer.

“Scared I’m going to whittle a key from a few pieces of boiled potatoes and a sprig of rosemary?” you tease.

“I have my orders,” he answers as if that settles the matter.

You know better than to ask him whose orders they are. This conversation is giving you a headache. So you try a different approach. “What’s your favorite kind of soup, Joel?”

The corners of his mouth twitch like he’s about to smile, but he gains back control immediately. “Any soup that’s warm and keeps me alive.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, come on, what’s the real answer?”

You don’t think you’re going to get an answer since he just looks at you for the longest time. You’re used to it, to his brown eyes on you, assessing you, trying to determine how dangerous you are. Only today it’s a different kind of gaze. He’s not looking for danger but something else. And eventually he finds it.

“Black bean soup,” he answers.

There’s already a witty remark on your tongue but before you can get it out, a siren goes off, loud and jarring, unlike anything you’ve heard in a while. Your body’s reaction to it is instantaneous. You drop your soup, fling it from you, so the bowl hits the ground, bursting, spilling the warm liquid everywhere. Joel doesn’t notice. He’s on his feet and halfway out the room at this point. You have no idea what’s going on, what the siren means, but you know you’ll be safe cowering in the room under your blanket. At least you hope you will be. Whatever is out there, whatever triggered the alarm … Joel is just one man. And isn’t this how it started last time? You thought you were safe too, but there were just too many, and they took whatever they wanted. This time, you’re not even strong enough to close off your mind. This time, you will surely die.

You hear no sounds from the other room, except the telltale click of a magazine being pushed into a rifle. You hear no sounds because you try to block out everything that comes afterwards …

When it’s all over, Joel cleans up the soup you spilled. You’ve lost all appetite, and he doesn’t push you to eat more. Joel smells metallic, like smoke. You don’t want to ask him what happened and he’s not going to tell you anyway. Instead, when he’s done, he softly closes the door to your room, leaving you alone in the darkness. He has things to do now, gruesome things, things you wouldn’t know how to help him with even if you weren’t injured. But you could tell from the tension in his shoulders and the cruel lines around his mouth that whoever tripped the alarm wasn’t infected.

And it never gets easier.

*******

You flinch. It still hurts whenever he changes the dressing, even though he’s so careful now. Joel wasn’t like that at first. The first time you were fully conscious during the procedure, you broke down crying because the pain was too much for you to bear. You definitely weren’t looking for comfort from him, but a kind word would have gone a long way. Instead, all you got was a, “Suck it up, you’ve been through worse.”

The more your wound heals and the more you recover, the more careful he handles you. Still, every time he undoes the bandage around your chest, it feels like he’s tearing the wound open again, as if all the scab your body formed around it is coming clean off. It doesn’t help that the wound is on your left side near your ribs, and you have to take your shirt off every time Joel cleans it. It leaves you exposed and uncomfortably on display. Every other man would have taken advantage of your situation by now, but not him. Maybe that makes you feel even more vulnerable.

“It looks good,” he tells you, examining the wound. He carefully touches the tender flesh around it with the coarse tip of his forefinger, sending an uncomfortable shudder down your spine. “No sign of infection. I think it might be time to take you off the antibiotics.”

“If you say so, doctor,” you say through gritted teeth.

He huffs, removing his finger. “Does it still hurt?”

“Of course it fucking does,” you snap.

He draws back, straightening his back. His face is a blank mask. “Was this your first time getting shot?”

“No,” you answer, protectively slinging an arm across your naked stomach, “but the first time I almost died from it.”

He raises an eyebrow. “It wasn’t just the wound.”

There’s no question in it, just an observation. And yes, he’s right, it wasn’t just the wound. It probably wasn’t life-threatening to begin with, but it’s none of his business when he doesn’t even want to tell you where you are and why you’re here. You know better than to open yourself up to a complete stranger who keeps you locked up. In the future, you need to be more careful. You can’t let him come any closer than he already has.

“Like you would know,” you say defensively.

The corner of his mouth twitches, and he flexes his fingers fast, balling them into a fist and releasing them.

“Come on, let’s get this over with,” you sigh impatiently.

Without another word, he gets back to work. He cleans the edges of the wound with some cold water, then he has you press a gauze pad against it while he ties the bandage around your torso again.

“A few more days and we can leave it open,” he tells you once he’s done.

“And then what?”

Is it going to be the same as always?

You glance at Joel, his furrowed brow, as he focuses on tying the bandage tight enough to hold but not tight enough so it will hurt you. He wouldn’t, would he? Hurt you? You shake your head. No, you’ve been there before. You put your trust in people before and it almost cost you your life, and it certainly cost you part of your soul. If anyone should ask, you still have the scars to prove it.

Once he’s done, Joel runs his fingers from the edge of the bandage down your naked side to your hip. It’s not a conscious movement, at least you don’t think it is, since his brown eyes are glazed over, almost empty. But it still pushes all your questions and doubts aside. Joel would hurt you if he could, there is no doubt about that. But he would also protect you, has already protected you. And that’s where the real danger lies waiting. It’s not hidden beneath cruelty and malice. It lies buried beneath care and attention. You either die for the people you love or you live long enough to lose them. And if they betray you, you can never really fully recover from that.

“That’s not up to me,” Joel answers, averting his gaze.

“Please,” you start.

“That’s enough.” His voice is harsh, the words meant as a shove, but all you feel is a pull deep in the pit of your stomach.

“Joel,” you try again, but he shakes his head and stands.

Usually, before he leaves, he tells you to get some rest or holler if you need anything. Today, he stomps out of the room, his boots heavy against the concrete floor, and you turn away from the door because you won’t sink so low as to call after him. But before you can make sense of the whirlwind of feelings holding you captive, before you have time to put your thoughts into order, you hear him return. He grabs your wrist, the one that’s tied to the bed, in a firm hold, one that makes you yelp in surprise.

“Joel, what …?” you try, wanting to get away from him and be closer at the same time.

Before your heart can decide if it wants to stop beating or spin out of control, you hear a metallic click and a weight falls off your wrist. You’re free! Your brain doesn’t have enough time to process that new piece of information before your fingers close around the handcuff and you raise it, bringing it down hard against Joel’s temple. He grunts in pain but you don’t pause – you’re sprinting toward the door as fast as you can after weeks of being tied to a bed. You have the element of surprise on your side because Joel doesn’t come after you, at least not right away. You’ve made your way to the room with the table before he has fully realized what is happening.

Your lungs and legs burn like they’re on fire and your head is spinning, screaming for you to slow down or you will collapse, but you ignore all the warning signs, desperately searching for an exit. There are two doors, one on your left and one on your right. They both look the same – dark green, dirty, paint chipped away, especially around the handles. It’s crazy how much your brain is able to take in and process whenever you’re in danger. But you don’t have time! You can’t linger and stare at the small kitchen corner, maybe even look for a knife you can use as a weapon when Joel finally does come after you. You don’t pick a firearm out of the crate right in front of you either because the rifles and guns probably aren’t loaded and you can’t afford to be slowed down by dead weight.

You make a decision in the spur of the moment, without any plan where you are, any idea about what kind of building you’re in. But you just know that the door on your right will lead you to freedom. And so you make for it, spurred on by the grunts behind you. Joel is in pursuit now, having recovered from the initial shock. If you want to get out of here, it’s now or never.

The door is unlocked. It’s not even particularly hard to push it open, not even for someone in such a weakened state as yourself. It just swings open, and you’re outside – just like that. You don’t see much: snowy mountains, a quiet forest, fences and barbed wire, two abandoned cars, a horse, its flanks steam in the cold winter air. You see your own breath too, and it almost makes you turn back. If you leave in your condition, face the winter without so much as a coat to keep you warm, you’ll be dead within a few hours. You certainly won’t make it through the night. But it’s a fate you can choose, something you can control now that you don’t feel like your own person anymore. And it’s preferable to dying tied to a bed in a dark room.

You run, stumbling like a fawn. If you push through the pain and the cold, if you ignore your cramping muscles, the jab in your side, the iron taste in your mouth, you should be able to climb over the fence. And then you can hide in the forest until it’s too dark for Joel to find you.

Something barrels into you, pushing you to the ground. You scream as your entire world erupts with pain. Lights flicker in front of your eyes, white and red, and your world tilts and spins. You’re so cold but your left side burns red hot. Did Joel shoot you?

“Fuck!” It’s the woman’s voice – you recognize her instantly. She’s the one you heard talking to Joel during those first few days when you had no way of knowing what was real and what wasn’t. She’s lying next to you, covered in snow, one hand firmly wrapped around your arm. “What the fuck is going on here?”

You’re being lifted up by a strong hand wrapped tightly around the collar of your shirt. A desperate gasp escapes you as Joel lifts you out of the snow. His eyes are bright with rage, his breath is a hot cloud between your faces, and it doesn’t look like he’s going to let go soon. If anything, his grip turns harder as he twists your collar in his hand.

“What are you doing?” the woman snaps at him.

“I untied her and she made a run for it.” His honesty surprises you, even if there are other issues right now you should focus on.

“Let go of her,” the woman orders, and there’s just a brief moment of hesitation. Then you’re dropped to the ground, crumpling into a heap in the snow.

The woman sighs and pushes herself to her feet. “Come on,” she hisses at you, pulling your arm. “Get up.”

You try to tear yourself loose, even if your entire body is screaming for you to stop fighting and give in. “No,” you grunt through gritted teeth. “Let me go.”

She laughs in your face. “And where do you want to go, sweetheart? Look around. You’re stuck here, whether you like it or not.”

You look around at her words but you only see the same trees and mountains you saw before, and you still feel like you’d rather die in the woods than live with this helplessness any longer.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” she groans. “Come on.” And with that she pulls you up like you weigh nothing and shoves you. “Get moving.”

You should probably put up a fight – if 15 years living in this world have taught you anything, it’s that the strong survive. It should feel like this situation has just gone from bad to worse, but there is something about the way Joel lowers his head as you walk past him that gives you pause. And you might be imagining it but the woman’s grip feels less hard. It’s not that you think they’re good people, but you’ve been here for more than three weeks and if they had wanted to hurt you, they’ve had plenty of opportunity so far.

*******

“Why am I here?” you ask. You’re sitting at the table, a steaming bowl of soup in front of you, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. “What do you want from me?”

The woman, Tess, sits opposite you. In front of her on the table is a loaded gun. It’s as if she’s taunting you. You could reach for the gun, try to shoot her, but she’s faster than you and you’d be dead before you’re fully out of the chair. Joel leans against the door, arms crossed in front of his chest. Maybe his lack of trust hurts you, maybe it’s an uncomfortable pull near your heart, but you also can’t blame him. There is a bruise forming on his temple where you hit him with the handcuffs. You don’t even remember doing it.

“We don’t want anything from you,” Tess answers, and it’s just as unhelpful as Joel’s non-committal grunts.

“Then let me leave.”

Tess shakes her head. “No.” Before you can protest, she adds, “You still need some time to recover.”

“Why are you helping me?” The question is directed at Joel but he keeps quiet.

“You were almost killed, remember that?” It sounds almost like an accusation, the way Tess says it. “We found you and brought you here.”

“Why?” It baffles you. They must have an ulterior motive.

“Where I’m from, you don’t just leave people to bleed out in the snow.”

You laugh at that. “Where I’m from you do. Has it ever occurred to you there might be a reason why I was almost killed?”

“There’s always a reason,” Tess says with a nod. “No one can afford innocence.”

You look at her for the first time, really look. She might be around Joel’s age, but it’s not easy for you to tell. She has long, brown hair that is starting to gray, and wrinkles around her mouth and eyes. The look she gives you is cold, hard, but beneath all that there is something else – it’s as if she’s forcing herself to put up a front. Before, when you came in, she took off the heavy winter coat she was wearing. Now she sits opposite you, dressed in a dark sweater that is tattered along the edges. A second gun is strapped to her side with a leather shoulder holster. It looks new.

“And you don’t care about the reason at all?” you press. “Maybe I murdered ten FEDRA officers.”

“Those guys who were trying to kill you weren’t FEDRA.” Joel’s voice is deep, almost hoarse.

You definitely don’t want to talk about that so you change the subject. “If I’m that innocent, why not let me go?”

Tess just glares at you.

“Oh, come on,” you groan. “I’m grateful and all, but I really deserve some answers, don’t you think?”

“It’s the truth,” Tess says after a brief moment of contemplation. “We found you in the woods, we decided to look after you until you were better. You aren’t fully healed yet and we’d like you to stay with us until you have recovered.”

“And what do you want from me in return?”

Tess doesn’t look like she’s going to answer you, but Joel does. “We need a third person to look after the compound, at least until the end of winter. If you want to repay us, you’re more than welcome to stay and pull your weight until the snow melts.”

“For real?” you ask. He’s joking, surely.

Tess nods at Joel. “You’re clearly capable. And you’re strong. We could use someone like you.” She hesitates. “Especially since I can’t be around most of the time.”

You prick up your ears at that. She’s giving you more information than she needs to give you, vital information about one of their weak spots. She probably doesn’t trust you, not fully, but she trusts you enough.

You clench your jaw and nod. “All right, but you have to start answering my questions honestly.”

*******

You’re high up in the mountains, far away from whatever is left of civilization as you know it. No one comes up here – no humans and certainly no infected. It’s just Joel and Tess, at least during the winter. In summer, when the weather clears and the snow melts, they will go back to Boston. Until then, they’re in charge of a warehouse of ammo and guns. They are in charge of a stockroom full of food. And the people who put them in charge aren’t FEDRA.

Mostly, it’s just Joel up here. Tess leaves for weeks on end, travelling around the country on errands they don’t tell you about. Trust only goes so far. And when she comes back, she never stays for longer than a day or two. It’s their third winter up here, Joel’s third winter of being mostly on his own. They both don’t want to come next year, but they go where they’re sent. Tess also makes it clear that it’s best if the people in charge never find out about you staying here.

Here. It’s not home, not exactly, but it’s the safest you’ve felt in a long time. Joel and Tess call it the Overlook. The main building they kept you in, a warehouse where they keep the ammo, the stockroom, and a tower, tall and menacing, that they use as an outlook. Most days, you can’t see much up there. Winter is cold and gray in these parts, the clouds hang low almost every day or it’s snowing constantly. You haven’t seen the sun in weeks.

It’s not easy work what they expect of you. It’s back-breaking, skin-tearing kind of work, but it feels so good to be doing something. Especially now that you’re fully healed you focus on getting back your strength. Seeing the progress and noticing how much more your body can take with each passing day gives you a grim satisfaction. The first time Joel let you out of the house you couldn’t even make it to the fence and back without almost collapsing in the snow. Today, you’re outside, setting traps to catch rabbits, climbing trees, helping Joel skin and gut a deer he shot. And you don’t feel tired. You feel alive, driven by purpose.

Joel’s naked hands and wrists are covered in blood, his face is grim and set. It took you some time to learn that he’s not angry when he looks like this, but that he’s concentrating and you definitely shouldn’t interrupt him when his brow is furrowed like that. So you watch as he works, grunting with the strain of it, his knife quick and fast in his hands. There is no point in carrying a whole animal back to the Overlook; it’s better to carve out the parts you want to use here and now.

Joel has taught you so much in the time you’ve been with him. Sometimes you wonder how you were able to survive the first 15 years without him. And sometimes you wish you could stay with him into spring and all the way through summer and fall, even though both he and Tess made it clear that it’s not possible.

A crack cuts through the silence of the forest, as if something – or someone – close to you just stepped on a twig. Joel drops the knife so fast you almost don’t see it fall. The rifle is in his hands, he’s up on his feet, pointing it into the general direction the sound came from all before your hand has moved to the gun hanging at your side. Three birds take flight, their flapping wings almost as loud as the step you heard. But other than that, nothing moves in the snow-covered forest.

“Maybe it was just an animal,” you dare point out.

“Yeah, maybe,” Joel says through gritted teeth, still observing the trees and the spaces between them.

You know not to say anything more or give any advice until Joel has decided it’s safe to continue his task. You haven’t been living out here for years, you haven’t even been living outside high walls that much. It’s not your place to question Joel or any judgement he makes regarding safety. But, soon enough, he lowers his rifle and falls back onto his knees with a grunt. There is a lot of work left to do and it will get dark soon.

You watch as his knife glides under the deer’s skin, separating it from the meat and muscle beneath. A pungent smell fills the air around you and you wonder if you might be attracting other animals, like wolves. You hear them howling at night, higher up in the mountains, too far away to be of much concern. But the winter is hard and there isn’t much meat to spare. You’re an easy target for a pack of apex predators close to starvation.

Joel puts the knife down next to his knee and begins to pull, tearing away the deer’s skin with a sickening sound. And then, before you can offer Joel help to roll over the big carcass, something jumps Joel with a shout, pushing him to the ground. It all happens so fast you can’t shout a warning – you didn’t even see the assailant coming even though Joel told you to be on the lookout. Your surprised shout comes too late.

A man pushes Joel to the ground. You can’t make out his face, but it’s covered in a trimmed, black beard. Joel, taken by surprise, raises his hands to protect his face, but the man has a knife clasped in a fist, its blade gleaming in the afternoon light.

“Joel, watch out!” you shout, but there is nothing you can do.

The man brings down the knife in a slashing motion, cutting into the red skin on Joel’s wrist. Joel doesn’t scream – he doesn’t even grunt. Instead, as the man draws back for a second attack, Joel punches him so hard he rolls off and Joel can get to his feet. The man assumes a crouching position immediately, apparently unfazed by Joel’s punch. He’s hunching down low, the knife still in his hand, twirling the handle, trying to get a firm grip on it. Joel glares at him, calculating, his face masked in concentration.

You calculate too – how long would it take for Joel to grab the rifle and fire it? Too long. What about the knife? The attacker is squatting between him and the blade. Could you help him? You don’t dare to when you see Joel’s furrowed brow.

The man jumps in Joel’s direction and Joel manages to grab both his wrists and push, so he stumbles back again. With a sickening grin on his face, the man approaches a second time, slower, blade outstretched in front of him. Joel doesn’t take his eyes off the weapon for a second and it’s the first time you see him, that cold, calculating man who knows he has to kill to survive. Sure enough, the man attacks again, going for Joel’s stomach, an easy target since Joel opened his jacket when he was working on the deer. Joel jumps back two steps and the man stumbles. A death sentence.

Joel is on him in a split second, pushing him to the ground, not caring that his face comes dangerously close to the blade. The other man shouts out in surprise as Joel climbs on top of him, his teeth bared. He pins the man’s arms to the ground with his knees, the effort bringing an angry flush to his cheeks, then reaches over the man’s head to where his own knife is lying on the ground. That’s when you know it’s over. Joel buries the fingers of his left hand in the man’s long, straggly hair and pulls to expose his throat.

It’s just one slash. Just one quick move of Joel’s arm and the man stops kicking, struggling, fighting for his life. You don’t look away. You watch as warm blood spills onto the snow that’s now dirty with soil kicked up during the struggle. You watch bubbles of blood form on the man’s lips, hear his last gurgling breath. You watch Joel hold him down, breathing hard, knife raised for a second cut if necessary. Joel’s eyes are empty.

“Let’s finish up here,” he grunts, pushing himself to his feet.

You want to apologize for having failed him, but you’re still too frozen to speak. Even though the whole altercation was shorter than a minute, you struggle with what you just witnessed. Not with the killing – you’ve seen enough of that and you know it was self-defense – but with the speed with which it all went down, with how quickly a life can be taken if you miscalculate and fuck with the wrong person.

“You’re bleeding.” It’s not much, but it’s something.

Joel looks down at his wrist as if he’s only just noticing the injury himself. “It’s okay,” he says, then kneels down and cuts a piece of cloth out of the man’s shirt to tie it around the cut. “Let’s finish up here before it gets dark.”

You nod, then watch him shove the man’s body away from the carcass. There’s nothing you can do to help him with the body or the deer, and you fight down a feeling of uselessness and helplessness. Now is neither the time nor the place to feel sorry for yourself. You can do that later in the privacy of your own room.

Joel finishes up fast, wraps the meat into old sheets he’s brought along, then stows them in his backpack. You get your own load to carry back to the Overlook. The trek back you spend in silence; Joel marches ahead with purpose, you follow, a queasy feeling in your stomach. What if the man wasn’t alone? What if his group is nearby, waiting for an opportunity to attack? Joel can fight off one attacker, maybe even two, but he’s wounded and exhausted from a day of hard work and you’ve proven today that you’re not much use in a fight. Luckily, there is no need for you to worry. You safely arrive back at the Overlook and breathe freely again once the gate shuts behind you.

“Here,” you say once Joel has locked the door to the main building. You’re standing behind a chair, offering Joel a seat. “Let me take a look at that cut.”

He nods and lets himself fall into the seat, the wood groaning beneath his weight. “There’s a first aid kit under the sink.”

You don’t tell him that you know – it’s best if he doesn’t realize how much you’ve been snooping around. So you get the first aid kit without a word and put it down next to the pot of steaming water you boiled while Joel was putting away the meat. Finding some clean towels or even just pieces of fabric wasn’t easy but you managed.

The cut isn’t long but deep, and it takes you a while to clean it. Joel doesn’t complain, but flinches from time to time when you use too much pressure. It will leave a scar but it isn’t his first and it won’t be his last. You don’t have any disinfectant since most of it expired years ago, but someone put a small bottle of clean, stinging alcohol in the kit and you use that to battle any possible infection. It’s the only time Joel hisses through gritted teeth.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t more vigilant,” you apologize while you’re bandaging the wrist. “You trusted me to keep a lookout and I failed you.”

“Yes, you did,” Joel agrees and even though you know you made a mistake it still stings to hear him confirm it. “Next time, don’t watch me. Keep your eyes on the forest.”

It’s only now, when he points it out, that you realize how much you must have been staring at him. Your face grows hot with shame and embarrassment. “It won’t happen again,” you promise, your eyes lowered, pretending to examine the bandage.

“It’s not just your fault,” Joel adds. “I should’ve been more careful after that twig snapped.”

His admission takes the sting out of it a little bit. “Is it hard to…” you trail off, struggling to find the words to the question that's on your mind.

You look at him for help, watch as a shadow clouds his features before seeing it pass and be replaced by disbelief. “You’ve never killed someone?”

“I have. Just… never like that, with a knife to their throat.”

“It ain’t different from using a gun,” he replies gruffly. “You end their life either way.”

Satisfied with your work on Joel’s arm, you let go of it, ignoring how empty your hands feel without the warmth of his skin against yours. “But you were so close to that man; you could watch him die, you saw him take his last breath, saw him slip away.”

“It was either him or me.” There’s a strain in Joel’s voice when he says it.

“It was him or us,” you correct him, not sure if that makes it better or worse. “I wouldn’t have been able to kill him on my own.”

“You’d be surprised how much you can do when your life is at stake,” he says with a cold laugh.

“Yeah,” you agree.

Then you both fall silent. It’s not until much later in the evening when you’re about to go to bed that he stops you with a hand on your arm, pulling you into the same chair you had him sit down in earlier.

“What happened to you?” he asks then. “Who were those men who were trying to kill you?”

You feel your body stiffen and your jaw tighten as you try to keep down the unpleasant memories of that night and of what came before. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Tough luck,” he growls. “It’s time you gave us some answers.”

The stab of jealousy you feel at his use of the word us is almost strong enough to defeat the rising panic. Almost. “Why?” you snap. “Because you saved my life today?”

“No.” Joel sits down in a chair opposite you so the table is between you. He fills two shot glasses with a cloudy, brown liquid and pushes one across the wood to you. “We trust you enough to let you stay. It’s time that trust was returned.”

You laugh coldly but wrap your fingers around the glass. “It’s not what you think.”

“How do you know what I’m thinking?” The confrontational tone has gone from his voice. He knows he has you.

You make one last attempt to get out of the situation. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

“The beginning is usually a good start.” You expect him to be smirking at you, but he isn’t. There isn’t even much expectation in his gaze. He knows you’re not leaving the table until you’ve given him some answers.

“Well,” you sigh, giving in. “The beginning is always Outbreak Day, isn’t it?”

He shrugs.

“I was luckier than most,” you go on. “I only lost my mother in the days afterwards. She was shot by soldiers because she was coughing. Back then, no one really knew what symptoms people displayed before turning, so they got rid of everyone who was sick one way or another. At least where I’m from.”

“And where’s that?” Joel asks.

“Montana,” you reply, fighting to keep down the memories of your mother crumbling to the ground, gunfire ringing out around you, the sound of it almost shattering your skull. Then you were screaming. And all your father did was tell you to move along. Even now, you’re still screaming sometimes when you dream about that day. “We lived in a small, rural community, but the military found everyone. At first, we thought we were safe. You heard rumors about the cities, but in my town, no one even turned until the second day.”

Joel has a curious look on his face now. “How old were you?”

“20,” you reply. “No, 21. It’s not that easy to keep track of time.” You shoot him an apologetic smile. “I was engaged to a guy from my town, we were supposed to take over my parents’ farm.”

“Is he still alive?”

You shrug. “I have no idea. I got rid of the engagement ring a long time ago.” You take a steadying breath. “After that, my dad and my brother and I went to live in the mountains. There were some vacation rentals up there we moved into with a small community of other survivors. We probably would have survived up there for years if my brother …” Tears prick behind your eyes. No, you’re not going to cry, not yet. This isn’t even the worst part.

“He died?” Joel guesses.

You shake your head. “We lived there for about half a year. I … I started seeing someone. I’m not proud of giving up on my fiancé that easily, but during those times … it really made you realize how short life is, and I wasn’t going to say no when Steve approached me. He was a few years older than me. He lived in Seattle but was visiting his parents when it happened. I kept the relationship secret from my family for the longest time but my brother eventually found out. And he was furious.” Your voice breaks on that last word and you swallow.

For the first time there is something like understanding in Joel’s face.

“My fiancé was his best friend in high school,” you go on. “By seeing Steve, I wasn’t only betraying him, I was also betraying my brother. And my father was on his side.” A cold laugh escapes you. “Maybe I deserved what happened afterwards. Maybe I should’ve waited a year before seeing someone new. Maybe I should’ve been honest with my dad and brother. But I also think that no matter what, they would’ve found a way to punish me.”

You’ve told this story once before, and the person you told it to was full of sympathy, interrupting you constantly, cursing your family for the way they treated you. Joel is quiet. He’s not trying to lead you or push you, he waits for you to tell him the story in your own time and on your own terms. It’s a change, but not an unwelcome one.

“My brother beat me until I could barely walk,” you say next. “I can’t be sure but I think my dad told him to. He was too calm and calculating when he did it for it to have come out of rage. They didn’t dare touch Steve, but they made sure we never saw each other again. There was this group our community traded with sometimes. I thought they were FEDRA at first because they were dressed in military uniforms, wore tac vests, had assault rifles … Once I had gotten better, my dad bound me and sold me to them.”

You feel a grim satisfaction at the shadow that passes over Joel’s face. He’s not indifferent after all.

“I think I don’t need to tell you what happened next.” The truth is you can’t. “I spent the next 14 years escaping, living with different communities, even living in a QZ for a while, being caught, escaping again. As a woman, alone, this world is very hard to survive in. Those men who were trying to kill me when you found me … they were from a community who took me in after I lost the last group I was with. They were friendly enough at first. I was assigned kitchen duty which was fine by me. But then that evolved into having to dance at parties, and that evolved into offering my body to anyone who wanted me. It was far from the first time this was happening to me. But then they forced me to sleep with the leader of that group, a violent man who had just killed a little girl the day before because she had spilled some wine onto his pants and … I couldn’t take it anymore. When he started beating me, I grabbed a knife and slashed his face. Then I ran.”

The silence that follows is unbearable. You know you’ve made mistakes in your life, but you haven’t even told Joel the worst part yet. Surely, he won’t throw you out based on what he knows.

“See?” Your laugh is hollow. “I told you it’s not what you think it is.”

“When we brought you in there were bruises on your legs,” he finally says. “There were cuts on your arms, scars and fresh ones. One of your eyes was swollen shut. I had a pretty good idea of what you’ve been through.”

It’s not much, but your breath catches in your throat nonetheless. He’s not judging you. He knows what you’ve been through, what you had to do to survive, and he accepts you for who you are.

You shrug. “Yeah. I hope that answers your question.”

Joel empties the glass in front of him with one big gulp. “It does put me at ease.”

You mirror him. “So, what about you? What’s your story?”

He bares his teeth at you. “That’s not how this works.”

“Oh, come on,” you groan.

He shakes his head. “It’s late, we have a lot to do tomorrow.”

“Will you tell me tomorrow then?” you press.

“No,” he answers. And that’s the end of it.

*******

It’s completely quiet in the middle of the night when you lie in bed and have nothing else to focus on than your thoughts. Joel is in the other room, the one off to the left side of the kitchen. Or maybe he isn’t. Maybe he left you all alone at the Overlook. You don’t hear another sound apart from your breathing, but you never do. Every night you wonder if he’s still going to be there in the morning, and every morning he is.

He’s still with you, even through the walls and closed doors between you. You spend every waking moment with him and in turn he haunts your dreams. Tonight though, sleep won’t come. Your mind is too preoccupied with the events of the day, too much in turmoil to settle down. Telling him your story brought back all kinds of memories, good as well as bad ones, things you can never get closure on. But no matter how hard you try to focus on the familiar pain, on the regret that is like an old friend to you, tonight your mind keeps wandering back to Joel in the woods, fighting for his life. He didn’t just kill so he could live, he killed to protect you too.

Your breathing gets heavy as you remember the look on his face, his flushed cheeks, the way he didn’t let anger or fear control him. He knew what needed to be done and he did it. You remember how he was straddling the man’s chest, pinning him down to immobilize him, gaining the upper hand even when the other had surprised him. You’ve never seen anyone kill like that. You’ve never felt so safe with anyone.

With a deep sigh you turn onto your back and stare up into the darkness. You can’t make out the ceiling but you know it’s there. Just as you can’t hear Joel but you know he’s just a room away – both thoughts comfort you. You try to focus on that comfort, try to preserve it, but the building tension between your legs demands your attention. Other memories start coming back. A few days ago, when Joel had been cleaning his rifle, his sleeves rolled up so they wouldn’t get in the way, his arms flexing with each movement. The way he didn’t complain when you cleaned his wound today. Last week when he had come back from moving crates around, drenched in sweat – the smell had been so prominent, had lingered for so long that you had to excuse yourself and go to bed early. And then today, restraining that man, killing him with one move, one cut.

Your fingers press against your clit through your underwear before you can stop yourself. Immediately, your entire body comes to life. You bite the back of your other hand to stifle a moan, but roll your hips up, chasing friction. It’s not like you haven’t thought about it before, like you haven’t thought about him before, but you’ve always managed to keep yourself under control. It’s too late for that now.

You move fast, kicking at your blanket, tearing your underwear off. Your knees fall open without the restraints, and you bury two fingers deep inside of you, clenching around them desperately. Is he that cool and collected when he fucks someone? Does he know what he wants and takes it? You like to think so. An image comes to you: you, spread out on his bed, maybe even on your stomach, and him thrusting into you without uttering a word. The only sound you can hear are his low grunts. You wish you could give him that, be there for him like that.

When you think about him gripping your hair to bend your back, to make you writhe and moan, the pressure between your legs becomes unbearable. You release your hand, sure your teeth left markings in the skin, and press your fingers against your clit. The moan of relief echoes around your quiet room. Working your fingers in and out of yourself and circling your clit, you can feel yourself rushing toward an orgasm, accompanied by an image of Joel above you, his broad shoulders caging you in, fucking into you, breaking out of the restraints he puts himself in. Your breathing becomes more ragged, louder, and that cautious part of your brain that’s been trained to be quiet for 15 years urges you to be more careful. But how can you when you think back to how easy it was for Joel to defend himself today? How easy it would be for him to take from you exactly what he wants, what he needs.

You turn your head to the side, determined to stifle a desperate moan against your pillow, but before you can take any precautions, the tension that’s been building inside of you snaps; you come hard, working your fingers inside as deep as they will go. You don’t mean to voice your deepest desires, but you can’t stop yourself.

“Fuck, Joel! Yes!”

It hangs there in the thick air afterwards, your desires no longer a secret, at least not in front of yourself.

*******

Tess returns two days later, and that door you’d been opening further and further with Joel falls shut again. Or maybe you’re using Tess’s appearance as an excuse to distance yourself from Joel.

He didn’t hear you that night, you’re sure of it; he doesn’t look at you differently, he doesn’t treat you differently. But something has changed and it’s your fault. Even though you slept better than you had in years after that night, you can’t help but feel ashamed, too. You’re more careful around him now, awkward at times, scared he’ll take one look at you and know. Joel doesn’t look at you the same way you do at him.

So when Tess comes back and Joel spends time with her, bringing her up to speed on things at the Overlook, you can’t be entirely sure it’s them shutting you out or you’re withdrawing. It’s so easy to blame them. It’s so easy to feel resentment when they go out together, even when they try to sell it to you as leaving you in charge. It’s so easy to fall asleep with your stomach tied into a knot because they both go to the other room at night. That’s also partly your fault. After all, they have to share a bedroom because they gave the other one to you. But it’s still easier to tell yourself they’re excluding you on purpose instead of analyzing why you come up with excuses every time Joel asks you to help him with something.

On Tess’s third morning at the Overlook, she offers to show you the top of the tower. It’s a clear day, sunny and bitingly cold. You’d be able to see for miles. And even though you’ve been here so many days you’ve lost count by now, you’ve never been up the tower. It’s not important to Joel and you never asked him. So you agree to Tess’s suggestion.

The climb to the top is hard, the steps are higher than what you’re used to, and you’re out of breath fast. Your wound, almost fully healed by now, starts acting up halfway up the tower, but you grit your teeth and push through. You’re not going to look weak in front of Tess. But once you reach the top, sweat is running down your face and back, and she makes you sit down on a crate.

“Not a lot of people push through on their first climb,” she tells you, leaning against the wall next to you. “Joel hates coming up here, says it’s because of his knees.”

“Shouldn’t someone be keeping watch though?” you ask, trying to hide how hard you’re breathing. “That’s what this place is supposed to be, isn’t it?”

Tess nods. “It was, at first. In the beginning, it was used by a group of people who were looking out for survivors. Then it was used as an outpost by FEDRA. But after a couple of years, everyone gave up on it. There are hardly any survivors left who haven’t settled down in a QZ or are tied to another group. And those who aren’t don’t want to be found.”

“Like Joel,” you mumble under your breath.

“Come on.” Tess pushes your shoulder. “Get up. Let me show you the view.”

You try not to let the awe you’re feeling show on your face, but Tess’s knowing smirk means you’re failing. “You can almost see the ocean from here!”

Tess laughs. “Not quite, but close enough.”

You’re so high up in the mountains that you are looking out over some of the nearer peaks at the forests and lakes beyond. The day is so clear you can see two or three smoke columns from other camps but they’re too far away to worry you. The brilliantly white snow and the endless blue sky are so bright you have to shield your eyes with your hand. Standing behind the glass at the top of the tower makes you feel truly free for the first time since that horrible night.

“This was here the entire time?” you ask, meaning it as a rhetorical question. “I could have seen this every day?”

“Most days the clouds hang too low to see much,” Tess answers. “But on days like these, coming up here makes you feel like you can fly.”

You tear your eyes away from the view before you and glance at her. There’s a wistful smile on her face, like she’s buried herself deep in a happy memory that is none of your business. This might be the first time you truly see her, the first time you look beyond her graying hair and the hardness in her eyes, the first time you look beyond the uneasy feeling you get when you see her and Joel together. The fact that she’s letting her guard down around you, even if it’s just for a few short moments, moves you. It’s more than Joel has given you so far. What you see is a woman who went through unspeakable things to stay alive, a woman who knows how to survive in a world where everything is out to get you, a woman who looks beyond the selfishness of most people. In that moment you’re sure that if her death meant she could keep Joel safe, she would welcome it with a smile on her face.

But then that jealousy comes back ten times stronger. And Tess closes up.

“Joel told me what happened to you,” she says without warning.

“He did what?” Jealousy is joined by a feeling of having been betrayed. It’s so sudden that you can’t stop the anger from bubbling up.

“Don’t be angry with him,” Tess sighs. “It’s part of the deal. What he knows, I know. Why do you think we’re still alive?”

“He didn’t tell me about that deal when he forced me to tell him,” you snap.

“Oh, don’t be naïve.” Her words feel like a slap. “We need to know who we’re taking in.”

“Yeah, well.” The anger burns bright red in your chest now. “Who says I was telling the truth? Who says anything about that story is true?”

Tess looks at you curiously, like a cat who is deciding if catching a bird high up on a branch is worth the effort. “Why would you make up a story like that?”

You can’t think of a single good reason.

“You have nothing to be ashamed of,” Tess goes on.

“Thanks,” you spit. “Don’t you think I know that?” You don’t, because it isn’t true.

“Joel and I, we … we can make sure you’re safe from now on. There are places …”

“I don’t need your charity.” You expect her to lose patience. For most people offering to help you, it doesn’t take more than this. Except she doesn’t. She looks at you like she understands, like she knows exactly what you’re going through, and the fact that she doesn’t pity you makes you bold.

“You’re right not to trust me. Joel and you … you don’t really know me. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

“You survived 15 years of torture and abuse. You’re capable of a great many things.”

The fact that she sees you unnerves you. “I didn’t tell Joel the whole story, so don’t think you have me all figured out.”

“I know you didn’t.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “Joel, he … he’s not the best at understanding people. Not because the compassion isn’t there, but because he has his own shit to deal with. But I can see there’s something bothering you. It’s eating you up from the inside and if you don’t let it out, it’ll kill you.”

You laugh coldly. “Thanks, but I don’t need your advice on what’s killing me.”

“Tell me or don’t,” she says with a shrug. “But I promise you, whatever it is, it won’t leave this room.”

You want to believe her but you know you shouldn’t. You couldn’t trust people before Outbreak Day and you certainly can’t trust them now. “What about your deal with Joel?”

“I make the rules around here,” she answers with another shrug. “And if it’s something he doesn’t need to know, then he doesn’t need to know.”

You take a deep breath, then another one. She waits patiently while your mind is spinning, trying to decide whether you can trust her or not. Weren’t you just wishing for someone who always has your back, someone you can rely on? But maybe that’s the reason she let her guard down around you … she wants you to think you can trust her. And once she knows the full truth, she won’t hesitate to throw you out. No one can ever trust you again after what you did.

“I’m not trying to trick you.” It’s like Tess can read your mind. “I can see you’re in pain and I want to help you.”

You huff. “No one can.”

“Try me.” It sounds like she’s challenging you – and that’s exactly the push you needed.

“Everyone thinks they have to do such terrible things to survive, but then you ask them about it and it’s just, ‘Yeah, one time I stole this loaf of bread from this old man and kicked him,’ as if people weren’t doing that well before Outbreak Day. And I think … I think most people stay human, no matter what. They see all those horrible things, and pain and suffering and death, and manage to go on. Maybe it’s because they have people relying on them, maybe it’s because that’s just who they are. And I think that whatever you do, you should be forgiven if it’s for the right reasons. Even if you kill someone.”

“Who will judge if you did something for the right reasons?” Tess interjects. “At the end of the day, you only have to justify your actions in front of yourself.”

“Morals, I guess.” Your throat feels tight all of a sudden. “If you round up women and children for your soldiers to use as target practice, then you’re a bad person, apocalypse or not.”

“Not necessarily. If those soldiers gain skills to protect 10,000 more women and children, aren’t a few deaths justified?”

“That’s not the point … Okay, what if you get someone killed? Someone you were supposed to love? And they died because you weren’t there for them when they needed you the most?”

“You made a mistake. You decided to save yourself instead of dying to save someone else. That just makes you human.”

“What if … what if Joel sends you to the next town for some supplies, and you know it’s dangerous, and you ask him to come with you, and he says no, one person will be less suspicious. But you won’t stop pleading, and the only reason Joel doesn’t want to go is because he knows how dangerous it is and he thinks, ‘Better her than me’. So, to get you to go, he promises he’ll come for you if something bad happens. Only he doesn’t. Not when he hears you’ve been captured. Not when they parade you around, stripped naked, tied to a pickup. Not even when they offer the crowd a deal: his life for yours. He doesn’t even come to recover your broken body. He just leaves you there.”

You don’t realize you’ve started crying but Tess raises a hand and wipes the tears off your cheek. “I would forgive him,” she says. “Sometimes we do selfish things for selfish reasons. Sometimes we do them out of fear. Sometimes the enemy we’re faced with is so powerful we feel so helpless we can’t move. Joel didn’t force me to go into town – in the end, I went out of my own free will, knowing the risk.”

“But wouldn’t you hate him when he doesn’t come to save you, like he promised?”

“Sure,” she says with a weak smile, wiping your other cheek dry. “For a while, maybe. But I wouldn’t blame him. Maybe that’s something that’s unique to our relationship, I don’t know. We know exactly what we can ask of the other.”

You and Julia, you hadn’t known that. And you’ve been wondering – if your positions would have been reversed, would she have come for you? You doubt it. But still … for 15 years you wished that someone would come and save you, telling yourself you wouldn’t leave anyone behind. And the second you had to prove yourself, you got scared.

“But doesn’t that make me a bad person? Someone you shouldn’t trust? I shouldn’t get to choose who lives and who dies.”

Tess sighs. “I don’t think it’s that easy. You always have a choice, and choosing to save yourself over another person doesn’t necessarily make you evil. Sometimes the best thing we can do is look out for ourselves.”

“But you would’ve saved Joel, right?”

That makes Tess laugh. “Of course I would have. But not because I think it would make me a good person, but because I don’t see how I could go on if he’s dead.” She says it like it’s the easiest, most natural thing in the entire world. “Maybe I got it wrong, too. Maybe I should close myself off more, think more about myself. Maybe I would live longer if I did. But that’s my choice. And I choose to stick with him, no matter what.”

It makes sense what she’s saying. If you had known Julia better, if you had loved her, maybe it would have been easy to follow her into death. But you were basically strangers who had known each other for a couple of months. You also wouldn’t ask Joel and Tess to rescue you. The only thing is … they already did, and you were a stranger to them.

“How do you know what people are worth dying for?” you ask her, feeling dumb. It makes you sound like a child.

“You never know. Not until it happens. I’ve heard stories about people who, before everything, thought they were strong protectors, who’d lead their families through every storm life sent their way. And then they bolted at the first sign of danger.”

“Not you and Joel though.”

“Believe me, we’ve made mistakes too.” She gives you a grim smile. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of, things I deserve to die for, probably. But I’ve also done good things, like helping you. You have to find a balance.”

You nod, feeling hot tears run down your cheeks again. That you’re still here unnerves you. Tess should have chased you away; at least that’s what you were expecting her to do. Instead, she opens her arms and pulls you into a hug. You immediately press into her and sling your arms around her shoulders. Maybe you don’t deserve her kindness, but it’s her choice to look after you, and you won’t push her away for it. For the first time in a long time, you feel the burden grow lighter and your heart beat a little freer.

*******

That night, you can’t find sleep. The conversation with Tess is still on your mind. It opened some barely healed wounds you let fester over the last few months, and now the burning is keeping you awake. If Tess is able to see beyond your mistakes, you should be able to do that too. But Julia’s screams still come to you every time you close your eyes. No matter what Tess says, you don’t believe she has done anything equally as bad as this.

There is something about Tess that unnerves you, something you can’t quite put your finger on. She appears to be so strong, but in a different way than Joel, one that is harder to define. Still, the notion that she’s in charge around here makes you want to laugh. You’ve spent enough time with Joel to know how he runs things, and he would never take orders from anyone, not even Tess. It doesn't take away that you think Tess is very capable of doing the things she talked about. If worst comes to worst, she would die for Joel - so would you, but there's less conviction behind your resolution. It wouldn't be the first time you overestimated yourself.

Then again, Joel doesn’t need anyone to die for him, and it’s presumptuous of Tess to think he does. Julia would have needed someone willing to die for her, someone who wasn’t you. You could see it in her rounded shoulders, hear it in her pleading voice. But Joel is nothing like Julia. And Tess is nothing like you.

A stab of jealousy shoots through your body, not directed at Tess this time. You just wish you had someone like Joel in your life, someone you could rely on, someone you knew had your back. It would make dying for them so much easier. You realize that someone like Joel is very quickly turning into just Joel, and you have to confront the fact that your time here is limited, and that you’re not going to share that bond with him that Tess shares, because they will send you away as soon as the snow clears. It’s unfair. If it was just Joel, you could get him to let you stay, but Tess is so focused on her rules and the mission that she won’t make an exception. Not even if she liked you more. And right now, you don’t think Joel cares either way.

Jealousy turns into helplessness, and helplessness opens your eyes wide, making you stare at the dark ceiling. It’s late, it’s cold, you should be asleep by now, but your throat is dry and itchy, and swallowing is painful. What you need is a glass of water. You kick off the covers and stand up, your naked feet hitting the ice-cold floor with a loud slap. You shiver and sling your arms around yourself, careful to avoid the bullet hole in your side. It’s just a few seconds and you’ll be back under the warm covers.

Quickly, you make your way to the kitchen, only pausing briefly by the door to make sure Joel and Tess already went to bed. You don’t really feel like talking to either of them right now. But the kitchen is dark and deserted and no one stops you when you go straight for the water canister. You pour yourself a glass and gulp it down, then pour yourself another one to bring to your room. Your feet are ice cold now and you hurry back over to your door.

Only then you hear it – a faint moan or grunt, and a creaking sound, like someone is writhing in bed, possibly in pain. You’re wide awake now. Was the Overlook attacked while you were lying in bed, feeling sorry for yourself? Did someone break in? Is someone in the room with Joel and Tess? Carefully, you put your glass down on the kitchen table and make your way across the room to their door, trying to stay as quiet as possible. Your cold feet forgotten, you’re determined to find out what’s going on. If there’s someone in the house with you, you won’t run from danger again.

As soon as you’re in front of the door, you hear the moan again, but now you’re less certain it’s one of pain. A different kind of panic grips you, one that is not connected to any danger but the sense that you shouldn’t be here. Then you hear a low grunt, deep and guttural, and you know it’s Joel. You know it is Joel and Tess, and they’re … You’re listening now, really listening, and you can hear all the subtle, repressed gasps, you can hear an urgent whisper, you can hear the sound of naked skin moving against naked skin.

Your face grows hot with shame and you stumble backward, indifferent to any noise you might be making. Let them know you know. They should, and they should apologize. The cocktail of emotions you’re feeling as you rush to your room is a dangerous one: jealousy, hurt, confusion. You feel so fucking stupid. Of course they’re sleeping together! How could you have been so blind? And yet, you still feel led on, like they were toying with you when they were just trying to be nice. This discovery is a slap in the face, a reminder of what you can never have. They both know how hurt and lonely you are and yet it has never crossed their minds to tell you just how deep their connection goes.

You refuse to cry. Joel didn’t mean to hurt you. He probably wasn’t keeping this from you on purpose. But Tess? Didn’t she say she’s making the rules? It was her decision not to tell you she and Joel are a couple, it was her decision to make you look like a fool. It’s so easy to focus all your anger on her because you really thought that by opening up to them, they would let you in, in turn. Instead, they are still keeping vital information from you, waiting for you to stumble across it.

At least Tess is leaving tomorrow. You might not get to have Joel the way you wanted to, you might feel embarrassed about your crush now, about how easily you opened up to him, but at least you won’t have to see Tess anymore. At least it’s just going to be you and Joel again. So it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t really matter they’re fucking.

You don’t find sleep that night. Your thoughts are too loud, the weight of the world is too heavy. You can’t stop straining your ear, afraid you’ll hear them again. Hoping you’ll hear them again. Because once you’ve calmed down, once your anger has dissipated in part, you feel something else. The moans and grunts are playing on a loop in your head, and once they stop fueling your anger, they start fueling your desire. You don’t do anything about that pull low in your stomach, the pressure between your legs, but you also don’t try to distract yourself. And a part of you is angry with them for not telling you because it feels like they’re excluding you when all you want to do is join them.

****** The next morning, you stay in bed until you’re sure Tess has left. You don’t feel like seeing her, mostly because you have no idea how you would react to her. Joel is easier that way. He never makes you feel wanted or unwanted. The both of you just exist in the same space, working together quietly. It’s exactly what you need today. So once you come out of your room, you try not to look at Joel too closely. Is his hair more disheveled than usual? Do his cheeks look rosy? Are the bags under his eyes less heavy? Whatever, it doesn’t matter.

“Sleep well?” he asks as he puts down a mug of coffee in front of you.

“Yes,” you lie. “How about you?”

“Same,” he says with a shrug. Then he looks at you with raised eyebrows. “Did you leave a glass of water on the table yesterday?”

Hot panic grips you unexpectedly but you force yourself to keep breathing evenly. “I might have. I don’t remember. Why?”

“You shouldn’t do that,” he says, but it doesn’t feel like a rebuke, just a fact. “It can get cold at night; you don’t want the water to turn to ice. The glass could burst.”

“Okay, it won’t happen again.”

And just like that, the issue is resolved. Being with Joel is so much easier than being with Tess.

You spend the day tending to the horses and checking the fence for weak spots. Joel spends his cleaning his weapons and counting the supply in the storeroom. The sun is out again, and it feels warm against your cheeks, even making you sweat as the day moves toward noon. You might have a few short weeks left before spring is here, before Tess will force you to leave. And then you’ll be on your own again.

Joel joins you when you’re working on repairing a tear in the fence, his quick hands making short work of cutting the wire and reinforcing the hole. You want to watch him work, determined to make the most out of your last weeks with him. But today, you catch yourself glancing at the forest and the mountains frequently, almost as if you can’t bear to look at him.

Why don’t you stand up for me? you want to ask. But you don’t. You know the answer, and hearing him admit it would only hurt you – more than the unspoken question anyway. A tight knot in your stomach makes it hard for you to focus on the task at hand. It demands all your attention by chewing and clawing and spitting, like a wild animal trapped in a tiny space. Should you let it out? No, Joel isn’t the one to blame, he isn’t the one you should focus your anger on. Still, you can’t help but feel stupid, stupid and betrayed. It’s your own fault for thinking you had found someone in Joel who wants to keep you, someone who likes having you around, who trusts you enough to rely on you, to seek comfort when the nights are cold and lonely. Why did he keep his relationship with Tess a secret from you? You know the answer to that. Why does she have such a strong hold over him he does whatever she asks of him?

“You okay?” he grunts somewhere to your left.

You’re not. “Yes, sorry. I’m just thinking.”

He makes a sound between a sigh and a cough. “Pass me the pliers?”

You hand him the tool without looking at him. He can probably see it all on your face, and the last thing you want to do is talk about it. But you allow yourself to look at his hands, reddened from the cold, calloused from years of hard labor, swiftly working to repair something broken by harsh weather and time. And you can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have those same hands roam across your body, worshipping every inch of it. The guilt of that fantasy almost drowns you, but it’s a familiar pain.

Without warning, a deep rumble fills the forest, shaking snow off sagging branches. Airplane is the first thing that comes to your mind, even though that’s impossible. There hasn’t been one of those landing or taking off in 15 years. To your right, you see a white cloud rise over the treetops, ice and snow glinting in the afternoon sun before swallowing the light with dusty gray fangs. You’ve never seen anything like it, and even though you’re far enough away from it to not feel threatened, it still makes you want to run and seek shelter.

“What is that?” you ask, pointing at the cloud.

“Avalanche,” Joel answers. “The warm weather softens the snow and it slides away.”

“Are we in danger?”

When Joel doesn’t answer immediately, you’re forced to turn and look at him. His brow is furrowed and his mouth is a thin, hard line. His hand is wrapped around the pliers, knuckles white.

“Are we?” you press.

“No,” he finally says, voice low with strain, “but Tess went that way this morning.”

******* It’s a long afternoon, the longest since you arrived at the Overlook. Joel wants to go out and look for Tess, you beg him not to. You’re not proud of the desperation in your voice, the way you fall to your knees when he refuses to listen, but you can’t bear the thought of being left alone in this place, waiting for hours or even days for some news, coming closer and closer to accepting a horrible, inevitable truth. If they’re both dead, you’ll die too.

Joel doesn’t listen to you, of course. He has a duty to fulfil, and you can’t resent him for it, even though you hate him for a short while. But then he’s gone and you’re all alone, and you’d do anything to get him back. You don’t think about what Tess’s death would mean for you, because you’re scared of what you might discover about yourself; you’re worried about her, but you’re not terrified like Joel. And what if she doesn’t come back? Wouldn’t your life stay the same, improve even?

When the sun sets, two figures approach the compound. You only notice because you’re outside with the horses, too nervous to sit cooped up in the kitchen where everything smells of stale smoke and him. Reaching for the gun in the holster at your side, you’re painfully aware of the vulnerable position you’re in, all alone, far away from anyone who could help you. But before you can take cover, you recognize Tess from the way she pushes her hair out of her face, and you recognize Joel by his gait, a slight limp. You barely manage to stifle a sob.

“The way is blocked,” Joel tells you once you’re back inside. He takes off his jacket and stows away his rifle. “We’ll have to wait for it to clear.”

You don’t really know what that means. Tess doesn’t say anything but slumps down in one of the chairs around the kitchen table.

“Are you okay?” you ask her, not sure if she’s hurt or just exhausted.

“I’m not,” she snaps. You flinch back. “This sets us back weeks.”

Joel puts a comforting hand on her shoulder and squeezes. She takes his hand and squeezes back. Your heart squeezes too.

“What do you mean, weeks?” you push. “Aren’t you going to leave tomorrow?”

“I’m not,” Tess answers, tension in her jaw. “Joel just told you we’ll have to wait until the snow melts.”

“The road is blocked,” Joel adds. “We’re cut off. We could try and go through the woods but …”

“… but we’d get lost,” Tess finishes for him.

“I’m sorry. I – I didn’t know,” you stammer. How long until the snow melts? You look between Joel and Tess, the unspoken question on the tip of your tongue. Tess can’t leave until the snow melts. You have to leave once it does. You’re never going to have Joel to yourself again. That sudden realization hits you like a wave of grief. So much unsaid. And with Tess there, you don’t stand a chance.

“Excuse me,” you mumble, throat tight. The door to your room closes with a loud bang behind you.

*******

The thing you dread most is the thing you desire most, too. It’s an impossible situation, one that makes you reel from its power. Giving in would be easiest. Avoid Tess (and avoid Joel, too), keep your head down, pray for spring to come. But a part of you wants to fight for a few last moments of happiness, for a chance to feel like you belong somewhere before having to face an uncertain future that holds nothing but death. Tess can have him for the rest of their lives. You just want him for an hour or so. But you’re immobilized, curled up under your blanket, fighting back tears. Why is it that whenever something good happens to you in this Godforsaken world, it gets taken away immediately? And why can’t you find anyone to blame? Not even Tess? You understand her, you feel for her, you would probably do the same if your positions were reversed, but why does she have to make everything so difficult with her probing questions and her cruel rules?

If the avalanche hadn’t happened, you’d be preparing dinner now. Joel would mend his clothes or peel potatoes or check the perimeter. And after a quiet meal, he’d talk to you. Or he’d offer you an old paperback to read. Or you’d challenge him to a game of cards. Instead, it’s Tess who’s preparing dinner tonight. It’s Tess who will lead the conversation, Tess who will command Joel’s attention. And it’s going to be like this until the day she’s making you leave. Should you submit to her? Spend the final weeks moping? Or should you try to make the best out of a terrible situation? Before your injury, you’d have picked the first option. Now you’re not so sure anymore.

Joel and Tess are both sitting around the dinner table when you finally come out of your room. There’s a pot of stew on the stove and three empty plates next to that, waiting to be filled. You sit down without a word, facing them, pretending the day hasn’t happened. You don’t yet know Joel and Tess are sleeping with each other. The avalanche hasn’t happened. You’re just as important, just as included as they are.

“I could’ve helped,” you say, nodding toward the stove.

“I thought it would be best to let you sleep,” Tess answers, running a finger along the edge of the table. “You looked exhausted earlier.”

You shrug. “I can still pull my weight.” Are you imagining it or is Joel smirking? “If anyone is exhausted, it’s you,” you go on. “That trek through the woods today …”

Now it’s Tess’s turn to shrug. “I’m used to much worse.”

“Let’s eat,” Joel decides and gets up. You watch him at the stove, stare at the broad shoulders hidden beneath a denim shirt. You’d give almost anything for a glimpse into his thoughts.

“Can I have some whiskey?” you ask when Joel puts down a plate in front of you.

Tess raises her eyebrows at him when he says, “Sure,” but doesn’t say anything. You weren’t supposed to know about the whiskey, were you? And yet Joel decided to share it with you.

“Thanks,” you say when you get a small glass full of golden liquid. “How about you, Tess? Would you like some?”

The corner of her mouth twitches like she’s trying not to smirk or bare her teeth at you. “Not tonight, thank you.”

You down the whole glass with one big gulp, then wait for Joel to join you at the table while a familiar warmth is spreading from your stomach to your limbs. You’d ask for another glass but that would be pushing it. The three of you eat silently, the only sounds the scraping of the spoons against the bowls. You keep your eyes fixed to your plate, counting down the pieces of meat and potatoes. Only five more to go. What will happen once you’re done? You should go back to your room. But there is something you need to know.

“Joel, can I ask you something?” You drop your spoon into your empty bowl loudly to make sure they’re both paying attention to you. Once Joel nods, you continue. “Once the snow melts and spring comes, do you also want me to leave?”

The way Tess’s cheeks turn red fills you with grim satisfaction. “It’s not a question of want -,” she starts, but you interrupt her.

“I asked Joel.”

Joel glances at Tess, then back at you. “Those are the rules,” he answers.

“Yeah, but whose rules?” you press. “You keep telling me you work for these people … I have no idea if you’re making it up or not. Maybe there is no group, maybe it’s just Tess who wants me to leave, and you’re playing along.”

Tess laughs. “You have no idea –”

“I’m talking to Joel, not you,” you interrupt her again.

“Oh, sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re talking about.” The tone in her voice makes the hairs on your arms stand up with a charge of anger that hits you out of nowhere. “We took you in, we let you stay, but that doesn’t mean you get to question how we run things around here.”

“Careful,” Joel says, but you’re not sure if he means you or her.

“No, maybe it’s my fault,” Tess goes on. “I didn’t think you’d need to know the details, but you clearly do, because you’re convinced it’s me who decides things around here. That isn’t true. And the sooner you get over your resentment for me, the better.”

You hate that she can read you so well, how she sees right through you. “Oh, don’t pretend you’re only following orders.”

“I’m not,” Tess replies, her voice calm and even. “I’m breaking rules by letting you stay here, rules that could get us punished if they ever found out you were here. And I’m not talking about a slap on the wrist, I’m talking about the fucking death penalty. I’m not sending you away because I can’t wait to see the back of you, I’m sending you away because the alternative is death.”

You don’t want to believe her. “Then why can’t I just join you?”

“The penalty isn’t for staying here,” Joel says quietly. “It’s for bringing you here.”

You snort. “Then why didn’t you leave me out there to die?”

Joel glances at Tess, but Tess is already answering you. “Is that really what you would have wanted us to do?”

“If it means saving yourself, then yes.” Your chest tightens as soon as you’ve said it. It’s what you would have done, not them. They risked everything, even death, to help a stranger whereas you couldn’t even be bothered to help a friend.

You expect Tess to use that against you, but she doesn’t. “We’ve done a lot for you, more than anyone else would have done. I think it’s not asking too much of you to respect the rules.”

“The same rules that keep changing every day?” you challenge.

“Our rules,” Joel interjects. His deep voice, a low rumble, makes you pause. “If we say you leave when spring comes, then you leave. No questions asked.”

“Can’t I stay with you? You can just say you met me in the woods on the way to wherever it is you’re going next.”

Joel and Tess exchange a glance that’s impossible for you to read. Is it pity? Shame? Regret? But they don’t give you an answer.

“Or is it because you don’t want me to come with you?” you go on, weighing each word carefully even though the whiskey is rushing through your veins, edging you on. “Is it because I’m a threat to that little thing going on between the two of you? Are you scared I’m going to take him away from you, Tess?”

Joel freezes. And when Tess jumps out of her chair, you do too, so quickly it falls over and hits the floor with a loud bang. You want to stand your ground, show Tess you’re not scared of her, that you mean the things you’re saying, but she’s coming toward you, her eyes dark with rage, and you can’t help but take a few steps backwards, even if it means you’ve lost this standoff before it even properly began.

The thing that hurts the most is that you can see it now, you can see why Joel would choose to follow this woman to the ends of the earth. The way she carries herself – shoulders back, chin held high – the way she doesn’t let her emotions get the better of her but is carefully calculating her next steps, the way she slightly raises her right hand to signal Joel to stand back, is making your knees grow weak. You’re scared of her, she could tear you apart without breaking a sweat, but that tight knot that’s been curled up in your stomach all day is beginning to sink lower as your blood heats up.

“You don’t know anything about me and Joel.” Tess takes two steps toward you, you take two steps back. “And you’re not that special.”

You want Joel to say something, tell Tess she’s wrong, tell her that you’re just as important to him as she is. He doesn’t, of course. He just looks at you from where he’s still sitting at the dinner table, like this doesn’t concern him. Then he looks back at Tess and crosses his arms over his chest. Tess notices how your gaze wanders over her shoulder, how you look hopeful and then lost, how you slowly have to face that you’re fighting a losing battle. When she steps closer again, you stand your ground.

“Do you want him to fuck you, is that it?” she asks, her voice so quiet it’s hardly louder than a whisper. She’s mocking you, taunting you.

Joel is out of his chair now. “Tess,” he starts, but she raises her hand and he shuts up.

“Let her answer.”

The urge to look at him is almost unbearable, almost enough to break you. But you keep your eyes on her, on her slightly parted lips, her red cheeks, her dark eyes. And it makes you surrender.

“Yes,” you answer with a nod. “Yes, I want him to fuck me. But I also want you to.” You catch yourself by surprise with that admission, but as soon as the words have left your mouth you know it’s true. You’re not jealous of Tess because she got to Joel first, you’re jealous of them both because they have each other.

Tess laughs hollowly, like she doesn’t believe you. A minute ago, you wouldn’t have believed yourself either. You were acting like a fool, and even though you’re hurt by her rejection, you can’t really blame her for it. She licks her lips, uncertainty in her eyes as she scans your face for any deceit, for any sign you’re making fun of her. Or at least that’s what it looks like to you. The longer she stares, the more it dawns on her that she won’t find anything there. You’re telling the truth.

Behind her, Joel hasn’t moved. He stands next to the table, his hands balled into fists at his side, watching the both of you, like he’s unsure of what to do. Should he put a stop to this? Should he wait and see where this is going?

“Tess,” he repeats, less urgent than last time. She doesn’t interrupt him again, so he goes on. “Let’s give her at least that.”

It’s all the confirmation you need, all the evidence to put your mind at ease. He has been talking to Tess about you, he has been trying to argue your case, and … he’s not opposed to what you’re suggesting, which leaves you with a quickened heart.

“How do you know she’ll do as she’s told?” Tess asks, her eyes still on you.

“I’m sure she will,” Joel says, and then his gaze lands on you, laden with heat and lust.

You’re there and yet you aren’t. They talk about you like you can’t hear them, discuss what to do with you as if it doesn’t concern you, and it makes your head spin. But the way Joel looks at you and the way Tess’s gaze glides over your body makes you feel seen, wanted. It’s a dangerous mix, one that puts you in the spotlight, leaves you open and vulnerable without a backup plan, without any idea how this is going to go and no way out.

You bite your lip and lower your gaze.

Tess smirks, her momentary insecurity gone. She reaches past you, and opens the door to Joel’s bedroom, the same door that was closed to you the previous night. “Go on then.”

A strange feeling comes over you, a feeling of being trapped, of being at their mercy. You shouldn’t turn your back on them, you shouldn’t let them out of your sight. Joel, tall and dark in the middle of the kitchen licks his lips; Tess nods at you, a challenge in her gaze. She still doesn’t believe you, doesn’t think this is what you truly want. Adrenaline rushes through your bloodstream, makes your heart pound and your hands grow cold. You can’t wait to prove her wrong.

You walk backwards into the dark room, keeping your eyes on them. You’re not entirely sure how you got to this moment, what switch was flipped, what happened to put you at their mercy like this, but you’re convinced this is the natural conclusion to weeks of uncertainties and conflicting feelings, of wanting to run and stay put at the same time. You can’t have Joel without Tess, and you can’t have Tess without Joel, and from the way your body reacts to that realization, you know you don’t want to have it any other way. All the tension that’s been building over weeks and weeks is slowly fading away.

Joel and Tess follow you, leaving the door to the kitchen open. A small strip of fluorescent light is illuminating the bedroom, too weak for you to make out many details, but you don’t need to. The only thing that matters right now are the two people in front of you, the way they keep pushing you further into the dark without touching you. You’re not sure what happens next, if you’re supposed to do something or if they want you to follow their lead. And a very tiny but persistent part of you still isn’t sure if this is really happening or if they’re just toying with you.

But then your legs connect with the bed and you can’t go any further, so Tess catches up with you. She reaches for your wrist, grabs it hard, and twists until you’re forced to turn around, arm pinned to your back. Your breath comes in hot pants as you’re trying to evaluate the situation. The only problem you’re faced with is that your brain has stopped working at all and you’re unable to form a single thought trapped by her like this. She pulls you close so your back is pressing against her chest and she starts undoing your pants with nimble fingers.

“You’ll do as you’re told,” she whispers into your ear while she works. “If you don’t want to do something, you say stop, loud and clear. You’ll answer when spoken to. Is that understood?”

You try hard to make sense of her words but you’re overwhelmed. This is so different from what you’re used to – no one ever takes into consideration what you want. And right now, all you want is to be touched, that’s all you can think about. The only response you manage is a tight nod.

Tess only tightens her grip, making you gasp, and pushes a hand into your pants, palming you. “I’m going to have to hear you say it.”

Are you imagining it or is there a strain in her voice, a note of desperation?

You grab her wrist to hold her in place and roll your hips, her fingers brushing against your clothed clit. If she wasn’t holding you up, you would crumble in her arms. “Yes, I understand,” you manage.

One of Tess’s fingers presses upwards through your underwear, and you’re sure she can feel how soaked you are, but instead of feeling embarrassed, you feel a strange sense of purpose and liberation. You want her to know. You want her to want you just as much as you want her.

“Good,” she says, letting go of you, and you stumble toward the bed.

It takes you a few seconds to catch your breath, to make sense of your whereabouts, of the desperate longing with which your body reacts to the loss. Your senses are heightened – you smell the stew you had for dinner, the stale air of the closed-off room, taste the cold on your tongue, feel the coarse material of your heavy winter pants scratch your legs. Behind you, you hear their voices, whispering intently, negotiating something you don’t need to be a part of. You lower your pants with trembling hands, step out of them while almost falling over, and then you turn around to face them, trying to keep your self-consciousness at bay, pretending you’re much bolder than you actually feel. You might not be involved in the deal they’re making, but you’re still its subject, and the least they can do is acknowledge you.

They’re standing closely together. Joel is facing you fully, Tess is partly turned toward him. Their faces are cast in shadow, almost unreadable, but they’re looking at you, there’s no doubt about that. You cross your arms over your chest in defiance, trying to copy some of Tess’s strength you saw earlier. They might not involve you in the negotiations, but nothing happens without you agreeing to it, and you don’t want them to forget that. Tess made sure you understood the rules and you won’t hesitate to use them to your advantage if you have to. You can’t tell if you returning their stares has any effect on them, but after a while they seem to be coming to some kind of understanding. They don’t say anything to you, they even stop talking to each other, but you’re the focus of attention again, at least the focus of Joel’s.

With just a few steps he’s in front of you, imposing, blocking your view of Tess and the light from the kitchen. It’s dark and intimate, the way he demands your attention, the way he becomes your focus, and your throat is suddenly dry. To make sure you have no other choice but to look at him, he catches your chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding your head in place. The sudden touch, soft yet determined, sends a jolt of pleasure through you that puts you even more on edge. And then he’s kissing you. It’s not romantic, nothing like the first kiss you shared with your fiancé, nothing like the first kisses that came afterwards. Joel isn’t gentle, he doesn’t give you time to get used to the feeling of his lips against yours, to his taste on your tongue. Instead, he takes and claims, making your knees weak and your core clench.

You kiss him back eagerly, pressing up against him, daring him to pull you close and make you his. You want more, more of his taste on your tongue, sharp and male, more of his body against yours, strong and so much more powerful, more of the way he bites your lip, your neck, with an urgency he can barely comprehend himself. Your hands find his belt buckle, but he slaps them away, then breaks off the kiss to pull your shirt over your head. He opens your bra next, quickly and without hesitation. You stand before him, almost naked, fully on display for him, while he is slightly out of breath but still finds his dignity intact.

His eyes roam your body, lingering on your naked chest for a while, scrutinizing your stomach, your thighs, and the flimsy excuse for underwear that leaves little to the imagination. Countless hours you spent wishing he would look at you like that and now that it’s coming true, you’re unsure of what to do with all of that attention, that calculation. You just know you want to rattle him like he’s rattling you.

“Like what you see?” you tease, your voice breathy from having been claimed by his kisses.

You get an honest answer, a hoarse, “Yes,” that makes your heart pick up speed. So much for rattling him.

With his big hand, Joel reaches up and cups one of your breasts. The sensation of his coarse skin against your much softer one makes you shudder, but you refuse to look away. Let him see what he does to you, let him know how much you’ve wanted this, ever since he killed that man in the woods for you. He massages your breast briefly, squeezes the nipple, rolls it between thumb and forefinger, catches your moan on his tongue. But before you can switch off your brain and surrender yourself fully to him, he grabs you and turns you around, just like Tess did earlier.

“On your knees.”

Joel says it through gritted teeth, like he’s barely able to hold back. You’re trembling so much with anticipation that climbing onto the bed is an almost impossible feat, one you should be proud of accomplishing in the end. Positioning yourself on all fours on the bed with Joel and Tess behind you leaves you in a vulnerable position, and the thrill of it makes you tremble even more. You lick your lips, chasing the taste Joel left in your mouth. From behind you comes the sound of him unbuckling his belt and your cunt clenches eagerly in anticipation when leather scrapes against metal. You grab the duvet under your hands hard, steadying yourself.

Nothing happens.

You wait for a few moments, but the room is quiet now. You don’t even dare to breathe, anticipating Joel’s next move. And then you hear it, the sound you heard the previous night – a deep, satisfied groan. Now that there is no door between you, it’s impossible for you to escape its pull.

You look over your shoulder to see Tess stroking him, twisting her fingers up and down his length. He is completely hard, visibly full and thick. His eyes are half closed and his head has fallen back somewhat, but Tess looks straight at you.

“Take off your underwear,” she orders.

You don’t immediately do as you’re told – you can’t. You’re transfixed by Joel’s dick, by how it dwarfs Tess’s hand in comparison, by how it twitches when she strokes across the glistening tip. He’s going to stretch you open, stretch you until it burns.

“Take off your underwear,” Tess repeats, her voice sharp with impatience.

Eager to follow her orders this time, scared she won’t let Joel fuck you if you don’t, you struggle briefly before returning to the same position, having discarded the last shred of clothing somewhere on the ground next to the bed. There is more movement behind you before Tess comes into view. Casually, she sits down on the edge of the bed so you’re facing her, so she’s facing Joel and you. She’s going to watch him fuck you. That realization is accompanied by a sudden rush of wetness between your legs.

Tess asks, “Is she ready?”

Suddenly, two of Joel’s fingers are between your legs, feeling for your arousal. Your eyes flutter shut and you moan deeply. “Yes,” he answers, his voice deep and husky, while he teases you, pushing the tip of his finger into you.

You let your head hang between your shoulders, already unable to catch your breath. If Tess reacts in any way, you have no way of knowing. Joel’s fingers leave you and are replaced by something much bigger, much more, something full and heavy pushing inside of you so slowly it feels like torture. You groan and whimper, moving so you’re resting on your lower arms and elbows instead of your hands while you still and try to accommodate him. The burn is definitely there, and it’s much more delicious than you had imagined. It’s not enough. You push back because you want more, but Joel immediately holds you in place by grabbing your hips, guiding himself into you with his other hand. When he’s fully sheathed, you’re stretched impossibly wide; it’s almost too much to handle and he hasn’t even started moving yet. He doesn’t give you a moment to adjust yourself, not even to catch your breath.

He pulls out almost all the way and pushes himself back into you hard. It’s enough to make your arms and legs tremble, and you bite your lip in an attempt to stifle a deep, desperate moan. It comes out as a sob anyway. With every thrust, the fabric of his jeans scrapes against the back of your thighs, a pleasant addition to the burn you already feel.

It doesn’t take long for Joel to pick up the pace. He does it with a rough grunt and you hear the sound of metal banging against metal when he does. He is still wearing his belt loosely around his hips, he’s still practically fully dressed. That image, even if it’s just a mental one for now, makes you crave more of him, more, more, more, and you push back again, meeting his thrusts. With a sharp slap, he places his other hand on your hip, holding you in place so he can fuck into you. You just have to take it.

“Please,” you want to whimper, but your voice is too weak. All you can do is hold onto the duvet.

“I want to see her face.”

You have almost forgotten that Tess is there, watching you getting fucked until you’re a desperate, whimpering mess. But Joel hasn’t forgotten. His fingers wrap around the hair at the back of your neck and he pulls roughly so your chin snaps up. It’s uncomfortable, the way he bends your back, the way your scalp screams for some relief, but it pushes you closer to the edge immediately. So does the look on Tess’s face.

She’s watching you, a hungry look in her eyes. Her mouth hangs slightly open and you can see her chest move as she takes deep, eager breaths. You’ve never been looked at like that. And she is looking at you, not Joel, you – straight into your eyes, watching pain and pleasure fight for dominance there. You’ve never had all that attention on you, and it awakens a desire deep within you that you hadn’t known was slumbering there. You want her to watch, to be unable to escape her gaze, be totally exposed to her.

And then you clench around Joel once, a second time, and before you know what’s happening, you’re coming. It catches you by surprise, makes your brain struggle to catch up with your body. Everything pulls taut and your mouth falls open in a silent scream. The flicker of triumph in Tess’s eyes is what finally makes you let go and you give in to pleasure, letting Joel fuck you through it. It’s violently intense, being stretched around him, clamping down, trying to hold him in place.

Until it’s all too much.

You reach back for him, tears stinging in your eyes, but he just lets go of your hair and grabs your wrist. With impossible strength he twists your arm onto your back and continues to fuck you with the same sharp, punishing pace as before, spurred on by your cunt fluttering desperately around him. All you can do is hold on, completely overstimulated. You let your head fall back down again, you let Joel take what he needs, and when he finally spills inside of you, you’re rewarded with a deep groan, and his hold on you tightening. It kindles another flame inside of you, that feeling of his hot pleasure dripping out of you when he pulls out. You need to feel it again, and soon. It doesn’t matter that his hands will leave bruises, that you’ll feel him between your legs for days. You’ve never known satisfaction like this.

Tess’s hand finds your cheek, soft and careful, and she coaxes you to lift your head. “Well done,” she says, and kisses you. “Lay down.”

You do as you’re told, only now realizing how stiff your arms and legs are, bathing in the afterglow of Tess’s praise. You also wouldn’t mind feeling this kind of satisfaction again.

For a short while, you allow yourself to rest, closing your eyes and sinking into the well-worn mattress. For the first time in weeks, all those confusing thoughts in your head are quiet and you can shut down. Curiosity quickly gets the better of you though, and when you open your eyes again, you find Tess standing next to Joel, running her fingers through his hair. She kisses him gently, almost carefully, and he closes his eyes and furrows his brow, getting lost in the moment. You can’t look away even though you probably should; this is their moment, not yours, but the intimacy of it has a pull that’s impossible to escape. It’s not just the intimacy between the two of them, it's also the fact that they know you’re here and are allowing you to become a part of this by letting you watch.

They’re still kissing when he starts to undress her, much slower than he undressed you, savoring every newly exposed bit of skin with gentle caresses. Your heart tightens at that sight, not because you’re jealous but because you understand. It’s not just about the quick release, the carnal act of it, it’s also about the intimacy, the giving, the ability to be vulnerable around each other. They’re offering you those same things.

Once Joel is done and Tess is completely naked, you’ve propped yourself up on your elbow, watching her with interest. She crawls into bed next to you, and from the smirk on her face you know it’s not because she wants to catch some rest. She lies down on your right side and takes your hand, placing it between her legs. She’s soaked. You can’t help it – your face heats up at that realization, at being caught off-guard by it. You hadn’t expected her to be affected by this at all, and proof of the opposite gives you a pleasant rush.

The same smirk is still on her face when she moves her hand between your legs. You whimper when she rolls your clit under her finger, still overstimulated, still too keyed up from earlier, but she kisses you gently and whispers, “Shhh, it’s okay,” against your lips. You try to relax, and it comes easy, giving yourself over to her gentle touch. She watches your reactions, making sure she gets it just right, and you’re content to let her explore, to let her discover how you want to be touched. Soon, you push your hips upward again, eager for more. Next to you, she moans and gasps softly as you continue to stroke her clit as best as you can while all the blood is rushing down from your brain. Still, the little sounds she makes are reward enough.

Then something shifts. You’re not sure what it is, whether it’s the hoarse moan that escapes you, whether it’s the way you make her shudder when you apply more pressure, whether it’s the way the mattress dips on Tess’s other side as Joel sits down on the bed. But her hand moves faster. She presses her fingers against you harder, and uses her free hand to grab your hair, tangling her fingers in the strands. You can’t move, completely at her mercy, and she uses that to her advantage to kiss you roughly, hungrily, all the gentleness replaced by carnal desire. You let her bite your lip, scrape her teeth along your neck, press into you hard, let her give you what she thinks you deserve.

When you come, it catches you by surprise. Your whole body tenses up before you erupt into desperate pants and moans, rolling your hips against her hand to chase as much friction as you can, pulsating so hard Tess can most likely feel it against her fingers. Instead of teasing you about it, she just growls, “Yeah, that’s it. Let go,” which makes you moan even louder. They both make it so easy to give yourself over to them, to trust them.

You’re still trembling when you open your eyes, you still twitch and pulse when you try to catch your breath. Swallowing hard, you try to calm yourself, but your head is spinning from one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had. A small part of you starts to feel embarrassed about how desperate you were, how much you let your guard down, and you find yourself unable to look at Tess, even when she continues to kiss your neck and shoulder, so you look at Joel instead.

He lies propped up on his elbow on Tess’s other side, watching you come undone under Tess’s skilled touch. His chest and neck are an angry red, almost a deep purple in the dim of the bedroom. He’s half-hard again, his cock hanging heavy between his legs. You clench one final time at the memory of him inside of you, and Tess finally removes her hand, falling back onto the mattress with a satisfied sigh.

Joel doesn’t let either one of you catch a break. He grabs the wrist of your hand that’s still between Tess’s legs and moves it lower, pushing two of your fingers into her. She clenches around you and groans, her eyes fluttering closed. The sound gets stuck in her throat when Joel presses his thumb against her clit and begins to move it in a lazy circle. You try to match the pace, pumping your fingers lazily in and out of her, glad for a chance to finally be the one who watches. You watch as Tess opens her eyes, watch as her gaze lands on Joel, watch as they get completely lost in the moment and in each other. They seem to be forgetting you’re there with them and you let them for a while before you decide to remind them.

You move lower and tentatively lick across Tess’s nipple before sucking it into your mouth. The small peak is hard against your tongue and you glow with pride and satisfaction when Tess arches her back and groans, digging her nails into your thigh. The sharp pain only spurs you on, eager to please, eager to make her forget herself like you forgot yourself when she was fucking you. You start to pump your fingers in and out of her faster, harder, and Joel, understanding, stops teasing her. Her eyes wide, her gaze still on Joel, she groans, “Joel, fuck. Please.”

The pull in the pit of your stomach at hearing her voice so raw and desperate makes you shift. Joel kisses her forehead to try to calm her, then raises his eyes and looks at you. “Fuck her.”

You do as you’re told, stifling a moan by teasing Tess’s nipple with your teeth, curling your fingers inside of her, putting all your strength into your thrusts. You’re rewarded with shallow breathing, and trembling limbs, and when she finally comes, she comes hard, holding your fingers inside of her with hard clenches. You’ve never felt anything like it, and the hunger for more is a sharp, burning sensation at the base of your spine. Will you ever be sated?

You collapse against her chest, your arm burning from the strain of keeping you propped up for so long, and Tess strokes your head with a trembling hand. Joel leans over her and kisses her cheek.

“You okay?” he asks softly, almost too quietly for you to hear.

She nods and swallows, the muscles in her neck twitching. Closing your eyes, you grant yourself a moment’s rest, listening to her slowing heartbeat, afraid that if you move, this moment might shatter into a million pieces.

After a while, Tess pulls on your arm and makes you roll over her, so you come to rest between her and Joel. She takes your hand into hers and places it at the base of Joel’s cock, now hard and heavy again. You blink a few times, still somewhat out of your body, floating around, not sure what is happening. All you can feel are Tess’s fingers wrapped around yours, and yours wrapped around him. But then she begins to guide you up and down his shaft. Slowly at first, making sure you’re able to take it all in, feel how hot he is, feel the little veins and soft skin, the way he twitches when she makes you tighten your grip. You only fully realize what is happening when he groans softly and screws his eyes closed. Then you know.

Tess shows you how to twist your hand on the upstroke to make him gasp, to make the sinews in his neck stand out, and then she lets go of you, putting you in charge. “He wanted this, you know,” she whispers into your ear, her voice low with pleasure. “He sometimes thinks about what your hand would feel like wrapped around his cock.”

You don’t care whether she’s making it up or not, her words make your core tighten, especially when he follows them with a groaned, “Tess,” that almost sounds like a warning. It doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, she lets you have the fantasy, and she lets you have the real thing too.

Then she adds, “I think he told me about it shortly after he heard you moan his name in the middle of the night.”

A sudden pang of embarrassment almost makes you let go, but Tess closes her fingers around yours again. “No, keep going.”

You feel the heat of Tess’s body at your back, the heat radiating off Joel’s chest, and you’re eager to comply. What does it matter now? They know how you feel about them and they don’t mind. After all, Joel came inside of you not even half an hour ago, and Tess came around your fingers, leaving little halfmoon marks in your thigh with her nails.

“I just didn’t think you’d like to be fucked by me, too,” Tess goes on, running her fingers along your thigh, teasing you, making you gasp and writhe.

“Faster,” Joel growls.

You don’t pick up the pace immediately – it’s not your call.

“Go on, it’s all right,” Tess grants. She kisses your neck when you pick up speed, two soft pecks right behind your ear. “Good girl.”

It’s meant for you, so quiet only you can hear it, and it makes you abandon all restraint. You sneak a hand between your legs and touch yourself. Tess lets you.

“Can I kiss him?” you ask, unable to keep your eyes off Joel’s brown ones that appear almost black now, clouded with desire.

“Joel?” Tess asks.

Joel nods, his eyes wandering to your lips, his tongue darting out to lick his own. You roll over so you come to rest on your knees and lean forward, your fingers still circling your clit. He captures your lips, growls against them, pushes his tongue into your mouth hungrily. Behind you, Tess strokes the back of your thighs, teasing you, making you twitch and gasp and squeeze Joel’s cock until he growls. Without warning, Joel grips your hair and he comes, spilling all over your hand and his stomach in hot, white ropes. You come too, wet heat rushing down your thighs and onto Tess’s fingers.

Tess presses a kiss to your back and you hear her chuckle softly as she gets up to look for a clean piece of cloth. You fall down next to Joel, curled up on your side, watching him. He runs a finger through his cum, coats your lips with it – and then he leans forward to kiss you, to chase his own taste with his tongue.

When Tess comes back, Joel cleans you first and then himself before he makes you lie back down between them, facing Tess. The two of you kiss lazily, unhurried, while Joel strokes your back, running his fingers down your spine.

After a while, Tess kisses the top of your head, then tugs you in beneath her chin. “You’ll still have to leave when the snow thaws out.”

“When the snow thaws out,” you agree.

***

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