#but the way you’re setting things up just seems to me like you’re just trying to drag everyone else down | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

pankesitopank · 3 days ago

Note

req for a ten reaction/headcanon/fic where his lady is a virgin but he didn’t realize because she doesn’t seem shy or anything.

and so he ends up fucking her super rough for the first time because she never told him (she thought he could tell + she just trusts him to do whatever) and then like the aftermath of that?? how would he react, and if you want to write out the smut

cw: rough sex (accidental), virgin!reader, trust kink, unintentional pain, guilt, soft!Ten, emotional smut, healing, worship... idk lmk if i missed something

wc: 3k aprox

note: God, it took me a while to finish this!! I hope it's what you had in mind. I actually ended up liking it a lot! I hope you do too.

☆ First, he thought you were experienced

The way you kissed him wasn’t timid. It was hungry. Hands on his chest, your mouth open and eager, tongue teasing like it knew what it was doing. Ten didn’t second-guess it for a second. You climbed onto his lap like you’d done it a hundred times, straddling him with thighs that squeezed, hips that rolled slow and suggestive against his growing erection.

He groaned into your mouth, his hands sliding beneath your shirt, thumbs brushing the underside of your breasts with practiced grace. You moaned—soft but sure—and arched into his palms. Confident. Responsive.

“God, you’re so fucking sexy,” he mumbled, kissing along your jaw. “I’ve been dying to get you under me.”

And you only laughed, breathless and flushed. “Then do it.”

That was it. That’s all it took. You said it like someone who knew. Someone who’d had this before, maybe not with him—but with someone. He didn’t think to ask. You seemed ready. Bold. Unafraid. So Ten pushed you down onto the mattress and peeled off your clothes like they were wrapping paper.

☆ Then, he fucked you like he meant it.

Ten doesn’t do anything halfway. Not in the studio. Not on stage. Definitely not in bed.

So when you welcomed him in with no hesitation—pulling him down between your legs, your thighs spread wide and gaze locked with his—he gave you everything.

Not slow.

Not tentative.

Just pure, blistering want.

He kissed you like he was starving. Bit at your neck until you whimpered. Gripped your hips like he was trying to mold them to his own. His voice was low and raspy, filthy compliments slipping from his lips as he pushed his cock against your entrance, teasing you with the thick head.

“You’re so wet already,” he breathed, brushing the tip through your folds. “You want it rough, don’t you, baby?”

You nodded—honest. Naive, maybe. But you didn’t flinch. You didn’t stop him.

And Ten groaned, “Fuck yes,” before sinking into you in one deep, unforgiving stroke.

He didn’t notice the way your breath hitched—or maybe he did, and mistook it for pleasure. Because when you gasped, he groaned, “God, you’re so fucking tight—shit.” He thought it was a compliment to your pussy, not a red flag.

His hips set a brutal pace from the start. Fast, hard, deep. The kind of fucking meant to leave you shaking for hours. The kind that came with his teeth on your shoulder and his hand pressed flat over your stomach to feel the bulge every time he bottomed out.

“Can’t believe you’re taking me like this,” he growled. “Such a good girl—fuck, I love the way you moan for me.”

You moaned because you had to. Because it was too much and not enough, overwhelming and raw, and you didn’t want him to stop because despite everything, you wanted this. Even as your body cried out, your mind was quiet. Safe.

You trusted him to break you. Even if it hurt.

☆ And you didn’t stop him.

Even when your eyes blurred.

Even when your throat tightened.

Even when the stretch burned more than it pleased.

You didn’t stop him.

Because it was Ten.

Because you wanted him.

Because the way he touched you—kissed you—looked at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered… it made you feel safe enough to let go. To surrender.

And more than that? You just… didn’t think you had to say it. You assumed he could tell. Surely a man like Ten—someone so worldly, so sexually attuned, so in sync—he had to know, right?

He had to notice how tightly your walls clung to him.

How your breath stuttered every time his hips slammed into yours.

How your nails left crescent moons in his back because it was so much, too much, too soon—but you didn’t want him to stop.

It felt like being cracked open and rearranged.

Not just physically—but emotionally, spiritually. The kind of thing you can only give someone once, and you were giving it to him. Silently. Trustingly. Letting him claim you in a way no one else ever had.

You didn’t say “slow down.”

You didn’t say “it’s my first time.”

You just held him tighter. Opened your legs wider. Whimpered when it got too intense—and kissed him even harder to keep him close.

And he kept going. Because to him, it wasn’t pain—it was passion. Your tears were overwhelmed bliss. Your trembling thighs? Just part of the high.

You trusted him to handle you however he wanted.

And he trusted you to tell him if he went too far.

Neither of you realized you were both wrong.

☆ Afterwards, he saw it.

It hit him all at once. Like cold water down his spine.

He was still panting, still basking in the post-orgasm haze, the sweat cooling on his skin and his arms cradling your trembling frame when he shifted to pull out—and then he saw it.

Red.

A smear on the inside of your thigh. A little streak where your bodies had been pressed together. Tiny speckles on the bedsheets below your hips.

Ten froze.

He blinked, thinking maybe it was just friction. Maybe his nails had scratched you. Maybe—

But you looked so calm. So soft, boneless in his arms, blinking up at him like he’d given you the world.

And that made it worse.

“Wait…” he murmured, voice a dry crackle in his throat. “Baby—are you okay?”

You smiled lazily, almost shy. “Mmhm… just a little sore.”

His chest tightened.

“A little sore?” he echoed. “What do you mean—? Did I hurt you?”

You hesitated.

Then—gently, like it was nothing—you said, “It was my first time.”

Everything stopped.

Ten sat back like you’d just slapped him. Eyes wide. Mouth parted, stunned. “Your what?”

“My first time,” you repeated, a bit slower. “I thought… I mean, you didn’t ask. I figured you knew. I wanted it like that.”

Like it was no big deal. Like giving him your virginity was just something you gave. So easily. So trustingly. No fear. No conditions.

And Ten’s heart shattered.

“Baby…” he whispered, almost sick with guilt. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

You touched his arm, trying to soothe. “Because I trust you. And I wanted you to have me the way you wanted.”

And that? That undid him.

You hadn’t said anything because you trusted him to take care of you. To know. To see you. And instead, he’d fucked you like he was chasing a high—not making love to someone who’d never been touched like that before.

And now, all he could think was: She trusted me something special … and I didn’t treat it like it mattered.

☆ He felt like the floor dropped out from under him.

“Your first time?” His voice was quieter now, barely above a whisper—but laced with disbelief, and guilt, and something far too raw to name. His eyes swept over your body, all flushed and marked and open beneath him. The red blooming on the sheets. The slight tremble in your thighs. The little wince you gave when you shifted.

Ten’s breath caught in his throat.

He’d done this to you.

And he didn’t even know.

He brought a shaking hand to your cheek, cupping it gently—too gently now, like you might shatter. “I thought—fuck. You didn’t seem nervous. You were so confident. I didn’t even think…”

You smiled again, soft and sleepy. Still trusting. Still safe. “I wasn’t scared,” you said. “Not with you.”

And that wrecked him.

He didn’t even realize how tightly he was holding your hand until you squeezed back, trying to ground him. “I wanted you,” you added, voice laced with honesty. “Even if it hurt. It was you.”

But Ten shook his head. “No, baby. That’s not how it should’ve happened.” His thumb traced your cheek. “Your first time should’ve been slow. Gentle. Something you remember like a dream, not a storm.”

You blinked at him, surprised by how emotional he sounded. It wasn’t just regret. It was ache. Like he’d been given something priceless and only now realized he’d broken it in his hands.

“You deserved to be worshipped,” he said, kissing your knuckles. “Not wrecked.”

And you whispered, “You did worship me.” But Ten wasn’t convinced.

He was already spiraling. Already cataloging every rough thrust, every bruising grip, every filthy word he whispered in your ear like you weren’t someone’s first. He thought about how you moaned and arched and gasped—and how he hadn’t once stopped to wonder if that was pleasure or pain. He just assumed you were used to this. That someone like you, so bold and stunning and confident, couldn’t possibly be untouched.

But you had been.

And now he’d touched you in every way wrong for a first time.

☆ He took care of you like you were glass.

Ten couldn’t undo it.

Couldn’t rewind time and give you softness before the stretch, kisses before the ache, words of devotion before the sharp slide of his cock into a body that had never known it.

But he could do this.

He could hold you closer.

He could wipe your thighs clean with trembling hands and whisper “I’m so sorry, baby” again and again against your skin, even when you swore it was okay. He could press his forehead to your hip and breathe deep until his own tears stopped threatening to fall.

“Let me make it better,” he said. “Please. Just… let me take care of you.”

And you nodded—because of course you did. Because you trusted him. Even after everything.

So he wrapped you in his shirt and held you against his chest like a heartbeat. He kissed your temple and your shoulders, whispered praises into your hair like a prayer: “You’re perfect.” “So brave.” “So fucking beautiful.” “I’m going to do this right.”

He ran a warm bath. Not too hot. He tested it three times.

He carried you there, cradled like something sacred.

He sat you between his legs, chest to your back, and washed your skin with the slowest, softest touch.

“You should’ve told me,” he whispered against the shell of your ear. “I would’ve treated you like gold.”

“You still did,” you whispered back.

But Ten wasn’t convinced. Not until you sighed and leaned into him. Not until he saw your eyes flutter shut in comfort, not pain.

He dried you with a towel that smelled like him.

He lay you back on clean sheets and pulled the covers to your chin.

He kissed your fingertips. Your knees. The inside of your wrist.

And then—voice low, but steadier now—he asked, “Can I… show you how it should’ve been?”

You blinked. “Now?”

He nodded slowly. “Not to fix it. Just… to give you the real first time. The one you should’ve had. With kisses and slowness and me telling you how fucking lucky I am to be the one you chose.”

Your throat tightened. “Okay,” you said softly. “Yes. Please.”

☆ Then he made love to you—like a first time should be.

No rushing.

No roughness.

Just Ten, moving like every part of him was designed to honor every part of you.

He started with a kiss—slow, tender, the kind that made your toes curl and your heart ache. His hands didn’t roam. Not yet. They stayed on your face, cradling your jaw like something precious, like he was memorizing your shape with just his palms and mouth.

“I’m going to take my time,” he whispered, lips brushing yours. “You tell me if you need anything. You lead. I follow. Yeah?”

You nodded. You were already breathless—and he hadn’t even touched you properly yet.

But oh, he would.

Ten’s mouth moved down your neck in soft, lingering passes. Gentle sucks, warm licks—nothing rushed. Nothing demanding. He kissed your collarbones like they held secrets. Your breasts like he was grateful they were bared for him. His tongue circled your nipples, slow and reverent, while his hand cupped the weight of you with care, like you were made of silk.

He took his time between your thighs, too.

Not just spreading them, but admiring them—his thumbs stroking your skin, his eyes worshipful.

“So beautiful,” he whispered, voice warm and low. “You’re unreal.”

And then his mouth was there, licking gently through your folds.

Not fast. Not messy. Just… focused. Precise. Loving.

He tasted you like you were art. Like you were the first thing he’d ever wanted, and now that he had you, he’d never waste a second of it.

When he slipped one finger inside, it was slow. Careful. Watching your face the whole time.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yes,” you breathed. “It’s so good…”

And he smiled against your skin.

He added another—still gentle, still patient—and worked you open in slow waves, curling and stretching and kissing your clit in tender pulses until you were clinging to him, moaning softly, trembling for all the right reasons this time.

By the time he moved back up, your body was already floating. Lit from the inside. Warm and weightless and ready.

“I’ll go slow,” he said again, kissing your forehead. “I’ll take care of you this time.”

You wrapped your legs around his waist.

“You always do.”

☆ His body slid into yours like a vow.

No thrusting.

No rough grip.

No dirty words.

Just a slow, aching press of hips to hips—his cock nudging into you with a deliberate gentleness, like he was asking your body for permission even now. His forehead rested on yours. His breath shook. His eyes didn’t leave your face, not even for a second.

And you felt it.

All of it.

The stretch, yes—but sweet now, fuller than before, softer. Your muscles had already been tender from before, but now he was giving you time. Letting your body unfold around him inch by inch. Letting you gasp. Letting your hands clutch his back. Letting you feel how deeply he filled you—and how much care he carried in every second.

“You’re doing so good,” he whispered, brushing your hair from your face. “You feel so fucking perfect.”

Your eyes fluttered. “So do you…”

He sank deeper—slow, smooth, and reverent.

You gasped and tightened your legs around him, drawing him close, anchoring him inside.

And he just held you there.

Deep. Still. Chest to chest, heart to heart.

“You okay?” he murmured, kissing your cheek, then your temple, then your eyelids. “You want me to move, baby?”

“Please,” you whispered. “Just don’t stop touching me.”

He smiled. “Never.”

And then he moved.

So slow.

Like ocean waves.

Like worship.

Each roll of his hips came with a kiss. A praise. A whisper of your name like it was sacred.

“You’re mine.”

“You’re perfect.”

“You were made for me.”

It didn’t feel like sex.

It felt like healing. Like a rewrite. Like he was kissing every place he’d been too rough before—and making it right now, one loving thrust at a time.

He didn’t fuck you. He loved you.

And it was more overwhelming than anything rough could ever be.

☆ And when you came, it wasn’t from pressure—it was from love.

It started in your chest.

A warmth that spread slowly—like a tide coming in.

No sharp drop. No sudden grip. Just… fullness.

Emotion swelling inside you like your body was made to hold him. Like you were finally, finally being given what you deserved.

Ten’s lips were on your throat, his hand holding yours tight, his voice a soft stream of praise against your skin.

“So good, baby. You’re taking me so well.”

“You’re perfect like this—so soft around me, so mine.”

“You feel that? How deep I am? That’s how much I love you.”

And then—

That slow, heavy pressure in your belly crested.

Your thighs trembled.

Your nails sank into his shoulders.

And the orgasm bloomed.

It wasn’t sharp—it was deep.

A slow-motion rush, like falling into something warm and endless. Your walls fluttered around him, clenching and milking him in gentle waves, and Ten felt it—his breath catching, his hips pausing, his hand flying to cradle your face as you moaned out his name like a song you’d waited your whole life to sing.

“That’s it,” he gasped. “That’s it. Let go for me.”

And then he was coming too.

Not with a growl this time. Not with a brutal thrust.

But with a whimper.

His face buried in your neck. His hands gripping your sides like he couldn’t believe you were real. His whole body tensing as he spilled inside you in slow, rhythmic pulses—still moving, still careful, still kissing your skin through it.

“God,” he whispered. “God, I love you.”

☆ The afterglow was soft, sacred.

He didn’t pull out right away. He stayed buried inside you, hips flush, arms tight around you. One hand stroking your spine. The other brushing your hair back from your damp forehead.

You were dazed. Drowsy. Drifting on the high.

And he looked at you like you were everything.

“You okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, cheeks flushed, smiling dreamily. “Better than okay.”

His eyes glistened. He kissed your knuckles. “You sure?”

You tugged him close, nuzzling into his chest. “I’ve never felt so… loved.”

Ten exhaled shakily, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I’ll never stop making it up to you,” he promised. “You trusted me, and I’ll spend the rest of our time showing you how much that means.”

You smiled. “Then start by staying here. Don’t move. Just hold me.”

He tightened his grip. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And he meant it.

Because this time, he didn’t just take your body.

He held your heart.

And he’d never let it fall again

111 notes · View notes

b1eedthefreak · 2 days ago

Note

cocky rick x girly reader who literally just eats it up? likeeeeee yes he’s aware that she watches him all the time and is like amazed by anything he does cuz he just looks damn good doing it and god forbid a girl indulge? he knows he’s the shit and she doesn’t mind letting him knowwww (little does she know he feels the same way abt her🥹)

⋆ 𐙚 ̊. Sheriff

⌇rick grimes x girly!reader

⌇summary: you watch rick like it’s your full time job, he doesn’t mind at all

⌇warnings: suggestive…

⌇word count: 1.9k

a/n SAVE A HORSE RIDE A COWBOY HERE I COME RICK (i hope this is what you had in mind anon i loved writing this!!)

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Rick Grimes had no right looking THAT good elbow deep in a vegetable patch.

It was a perfect Alexandria afternoon, not because of the blue sky or the cicadas hummin. No, it was the sun beating down just enough to get a little sweat going on him. And there he was, kneeling in the dirt, sleeves rolled to his elbows, forearms flexing as he pressed tomato plants into the soil. His curls were damp, clinging to his forehead, and every now and then, he’d stop to swipe at the sweat with the back of his hand, mouth set in that same serious line like this was the most important thing in the world.

And you?

You were perched right there on your porch swing, sundress flowing, legs crossed pretty, unapologetically staring.

Because God forbid a girl indulge.

He knew it too. Every so often, he’d shift just so, leaning into the stretch, rolling his broad shoulders back, giving you the perfect view. Like he was saying, Go on. Take a good look.

And oh, you were.

Truth be told, this wasn’t the first time he’d done it.

Your mind wandered, unprompted, to all the other times Rick had caught you lookin’.

Like last week, when he’d been fixing the gate, shirt riding up just enough to show off that stupid, unfair slice of toned stomach. You’d passed by, innocent as could be, and offered him a sweet little “Need any help Sheriff?”

And he’d smirked, leaned back with his arms crossed, blatantly flexing. “You know how to handle a wrench darlin’?”

Didn’t even give you a chance to answer before adding, “Course you do. Got a feelin’ you’re real good with your hands.”

You’d damn near combusted.

Or two days ago, when he’d caught you eyeing his holster as he geared up for patrol. You weren’t even trying to be subtle. Something about the way that leather hugged his hips had your brain absolutely useless.

Rick had noticed. Oh, he’d noticed.

“Careful now,” he’d drawled, leaning in just enough to make your heart stutter, “keep lookin’ at me like that, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble.”

And you, shameless, had batted your lashes right back.

“Maybe I like trouble.”

The grin he’d given you? Smug. Cocky..

So now, watching him play house with his precious tomatoes, it was no surprise that he was well aware of your attention.

“You appear to be observing Rick with what I’d categorize as unrestrained admiration.”

The sudden voice nearly made you jump out of your skin.

“Jesus Eugene!” you laughed, hand to your chest. “Where’d you come from?”

“I was merely conducting perimeter checks for wildlife breaches,” he said, shifting awkwardly on his feet, oblivious to how loud he was. “However, it would seem your surveillance efforts are of a more… hormonal variety.”

You blinked. “I’m sorry, what now?”

“You’re staring,” he clarified. “Quite blatantly, I might add. To what do you attribute this persistent fascination? Is it his facial symmetry? His leadership qualities? Or perhaps the primitive appeal of physical labor?”

You stared at him, mouth twitching.

“Eugene,” you said sweetly, “just look at him.”

Eugene squinted. “While I acknowledge his practical skillset, I fail to perceive the aesthetic allure. But then again, I am not a female, nor am I predisposed to such reactions.”

You couldn’t help it. The laugh bubbled up before you could stop it.

“You ever heard that saying?” you grinned, eyes sparkling. “Save a horse, ride a cowboy?”

Eugene looked genuinely perplexed. “I am unfamiliar with that idiom. Is this a transportation alternative or a sexual innuendo?”

You nearly wheezed.

But just as you doubled over in laughter, hand over your mouth, you caught it, a shadow shifting, a certain weight of a gaze. Slowly, you glanced sideways.

And there he was.

Rick, standing, one hand on his hip, the other dragging sweat from his brow. His lips quirked, just a little, catching you red handed.

Your laugh died immediately.

“Oh—hi Rick.” You cleared your throat, sitting up straight, suddenly very interested in adjusting the hem of your dress. “Nice… dirt. Looks good.”

Smooth. So smooth.

Rick didn’t say anything, but the way his lips twitched said plenty. He went back to work without missing a beat, smug as anything.

Eugene, blissfully unaware of your humiliation, just nodded. “I shall leave you to your continued voyeurism,” he announced, and shuffled off toward the gate.

You sank back against the swing with a groan.

A few hours passed.

You’d busied yourself with odds and ends, anything to distract from how flustered you’d gotten over a damn man planting tomatoes. But when you wandered back outside, curiosity tugging you like a string, you weren’t surprised to see him still there.

Still working.

Still looking unfairly good doing it.

Only this time, you came prepared.

You padded across the yard, water bottle in hand, sundress swishing at your knees. His back was to you, and you took a moment to appreciate the view. The broad set of his shoulders, the way his jeans hung low on his hips, dusty boots planted firm in the dirt.

“You’re gonna wear yourself out sheriff.”

His head lifted, but he didn’t turn.

“I’m fine.”

“I know you are.” You grinned, offering the water. “But even fine cowboys need a break.”

That made him turn.

He took the bottle from you, fingers grazing yours , hot, rough, deliberate. His eyes dragged down your figure, slow and lingering, before meeting your gaze again with that infuriating little smirk.

“Been watchin’ me all day, haven’t you?”

No point denying it now.

“Maybe.” You tilted your head, lip gloss catching the sunlight. “Can you blame me?”

He chuckled, low and warm, unscrewing the bottle cap.

“Ain’t complainin’.” He took a long drink, throat bobbing, making a show of it. “Just curious how long you’re gonna look before you do somethin’ ‘bout it.”

Your breath hitched.

He stepped closer, heat rolling off him, smelling like earth and sweat and soap. His free hand lifted slow, giving you every chance to stop him, and brushed a stray hair from your cheek, fingers lingering just like before.

“I don’t mind givin’ you somethin’ to look at darlin’,” he said, voice soft. “But you oughta know, I been lookin’ right back.”

You swallowed. “You have, huh?”

He hummed, tipping the bottle to you in a mock toast. “Ain’t no crime to look.”

You smiled, heart racing.

“Well then, Sheriff,” you said, stepping just a little closer, “guess we’re both guilty.”

And the way his eyes darkened, the way his jaw flexed like he was holding himself back, you knew this little game wasn’t gonna stay innocent much longer.

But for now?

For now, you let him go back to his tomatoes, smug.

And you? You sat yourself right back on that porch swing.

Watching.

Indulging.

Like the little troublemaker you were.

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#rick grimes x reader #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes imagine #twd rick #rick grimes #the walking dead fanfiction

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johns-walker · 1 day ago

Note

I never really cared for John Walker in the Falcon TV series, but after watching Thunderrbolts, I kinda need him, bad. So if you’re willing to write a request, may I request just John, devouring reader in a kiss? Like, hot and heavy, pushing her against the wall 👉👈

for some reason i never even got notified of this ask but guess what i saw it in fact!!! also yes. yes yes yes.

john walker/f!reader

cw; making out, almost smut (again LOL)

Rooming with a superhero probably wasn’t something that you anticipated, or something that you could have even tried to predict the outcome of. Or, you were pretty sure he was a superhero? He was an Avenger, but before that he wasn’t an Avenger and he was just depressed and also living with you because he was going through a divorce. It was just supposed to be a minor living situation because you were both kind of out on your asses, but now you were… friends? Friends, but you were attracted to him and also he came home covered in blood and three days late half of the time and sometimes you simply weren’t sure how you were ever supposed to feel about the situation.

Tonight was no exception to the rule.

You were sitting on your couch when he walked in, his face bruised and his cheek split open. It was the same thing that it always was, with you patching him up. Typically, though, he would go to bed right after and you would talk a bit in the morning. But he had become friendlier with you since he joined this team. His mental health was doing better, and you were becoming closer. Regardless of how nervous it made you, you liked it.

“Why do you sit up waiting for me?” He asked, leaning against the kitchen counter while you fixed him a cup of tea.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I came home at midnight and you were ready for me to get here, even though I’m late sometimes.” Late often, was more like it. But that really only made you sound worse in terms of the situation, so you didn’t feel the need to correct him.

“Because I care about you.” It was a simple answer, but one that you fully meant. You cared about him, and you were worried about him not coming home. You knew it was more than that, but he had always seemed pretty oblivious to that fact. Until now, at least. Now, he was looking at you like he could see right through you, and it was making you incredibly nervous.

What you couldn’t have known was that he had a very candid conversation with Yelena and Ava earlier about his feelings, about the fact that he very clearly had a relatively intimate relationship with his roommate who they were certain was probably in love with him from the way that he described her.

“Walker?”

He seemed to be pondering, moving closer to you. You held out the mug for him, assuming in your heart that was what he wanted. But he said nothing, and even though he took the mug, he simply set it down beside you.

“John?”

“Tell me to stop, if you want me to stop.” When you felt his hand on your jaw, cradling your cheek and tilting your face up so you would have to look at him, you knew there was some small part of your mind that was telling him that he should stop. You were friends, and you didn’t want to ruin that because of your complicated feelings toward him. But the way that he was looking at you told you that you had no reason to be so nervous, that your complicated feelings really didn’t need to be all that complicated anymore.

When you didn’t tell him to stop, he didn’t bother hesitating as he pressed his lips against yours. It was experimental at first, neither of you really knowing what it was that the other person wanted. But when it became clear that what he wanted was you, and that what you wanted was him, neither of you really felt that need to be all too timid.

It felt as if every single emotion that you had been trying to conceal within yourself was coming out. All of the passion that you felt toward him, the need to kiss him and be with him and tell him that you were painfully and obviously attracted to him and cared about him more than you were supposed to care about a friend. Everything came out, and he seemed to be enjoying it. The loss of tension, but the need to get somehow closer all-but consuming the both of you.

His kiss became needy, and you were desperate for more.

You didn’t notice that he had your back against the wall until you were there, his body trapping you between it and the flowery wallpaper that he had claimed he would change when you both decided to move into this apartment. Each second, it felt like his kiss got deeper. You could feel body pressed against yours, his lips against yours so roughly that it almost felt like he was trying to consume you whole.

His teeth sunk into your bottom lip after a moment, a whine leaving your throat that almost embarrassed you. Walker’s bite was nearly enough to hurt, nearly enough to leave a mark on the inside of your mouth. You almost wished that he would, that his teeth would indent you so when he was away you could still feel him. He seemed to take note of that passion, of that lingering clinginess that you always tried to hide when he was away for prolonged periods of time.

He didn’t mind that you grabbed onto his coat, pulling him tightly against you. I return, you didn’t mind when his hand snaked behind your head and tugged at your hair. He pulled your head back just enough so that he could trail his lips down your jaw, a needy sigh leaving your mouth as you felt his lips pulling your skin in between them. There was a desire building in your core that you couldn’t deny, a need to be even closer to him that was growing inside of you.

After a moment, you grabbed his chin to pull his face back to yours. He let you kiss him with all the passion that you had been wanting to get out. The worry, and the desire, and the feelings that you had been trying to conceal. His hands moved to grab onto your hips, to keep you pressed against him as tightly as he could. You knew that you both wanted more. You could feel it in your stomach, in your chest, and in the way that he seemed to be subtly trying to get your leg up and over his hip so he could press against you even tighter.

At some point, you would need to discuss this, but perhaps the moment wasn’t when you finally gave him what he wanted – when you could feel the evidence of his arousal against you. With one movement of his hips against yours, you knew that you would give into your desires before either of you even considered having a serious conversation about this.

“We’ll talk-” He stopped talking after a moment, his voice rough, needy – breathless. “When I’m done with you.”

It was as though he was reading your mind, but it wasn’t a surprise that you were both seemingly having the same thoughts about this situation.

With a smile, you pulled him back down to your level, your lips brushing against the corner of his mouth. “Sounds good to me.”

Of all of the long nights that you had since Walker became an Avenger, this was certainly the best one to date.

#john walker fanfiction #john walker x reader #mcu fanfiction #mcu x reader #thunderbolts x reader #us agent fanfiction #us agent x reader

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princessleprechaunnn · 3 days ago

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Memory 1

click the thing that says click for the series masterlist warning: ummm typical yellowjackets things, cussing, drug use, lezzing out hopefully a series as long as i stay locked in

You were walking back to the cabin, water in tow. As you set it down, you spot Natalie and Travis bickering. You try to walk past them, but your curiosity gets the best of you.

“What the fuck is the issue?” you say trying to sound annoyed, but the slight smirk on your face betrays you.

Natalie scoffed before looking at you “This bitch is too good to go hunting with me, wanna come instead?”

You took a second before shifting on your feet and replying, “Umm, sure.”

At that, Nat slung the rifle over her shoulder and started trekking deeper into the woods.

Somehow, she leads you back to the crash site. Nat abruptly stops, and you shift nervously before calling out her name softly.

“Nat, why are we here? I thought we were going hunting?”

She turns around, meeting your gaze, and walks into the plane's cabin. “Hold on..”

You wait patiently when you finally see Nat’s head pop out again, grinning at you. You furrow your brows, confused, until you look down at her hand. A crumpled bag, as well as her lighter. Her face seems to beckon you closer, and before you know it, you are sitting on the plane floor with Natalie.

She fidgets softly with the lighter until she gets it to light and takes a blunt from the bag. She brings it to the flame and lights it. You watch as she breathes in, and soon slowly exhales the hot puff of smoke. She looks at you for a moment, looking as if she were contemplating something.

“You smoke?” she asks, a quizzical expression on her face.

“I mean, I’ve tried a cigarette once or twice at a party. But I haven’t made it a habit?” She chuckles softly before sitting up and leaning in a bit closer.

“Just open your mouth, breathe in like it's a straw. Hold it in for a second, then slowly let it go. Ok, you try.”

You take the blunt in your hand, gazing at it momentarily. “It’s not gonna bite, either hit it or pass it back,” Nat says, her gaze softening slightly.

“Shit, ok.” You try to do what Nat says, but it feels like your lungs are about to explode. You blow out the smoke and start to cough aggressively, which makes Nat start laughing loudly.

“Oh my god, easy there. You’re too aggressive. It's not going anywhere, ease up.” You try it again, and follow Nat’s instructions. To both of your surprise, you softly exhale the smoke.

“Better, now gimme.”

It’s been almost an hour of you smoking and talking with Natalie, and your conversations were frequently interrupted by fits of giggles. As she rambles on about something, you interrupt her.

“We should have hung out more in school, you are honestly the most decent person on this team.”

Her gaze on you softens momentarily, but then her wall is right back up.

“Because you would wanna hang out with the school burnout, yeah, right.” She looks away from you, her eyes searching for anything to look at other than your face.

“I wouldn’t have minded, I don’t care about that shit too much. Plus, you are so fucking funny. And I could have kept you company whenever you skipped.” You said, looking at Nat softly.

She gazes at your lips, and you gaze at hers. “You really would have hung out with me?” she whispers

“Hell yeah,” you spurted out.

Your words caused a silence to fall over you both, until Nat spoke up.

“We should probably go back, also, I need to find us all dinner on the way back.” You both stood up and straightened out your clothes. You began the longer walk back to the cabin, Natalie scoring two rabbits on the way. As you walk back into the cabin, you look at Natalie one more time as she speaks with Shauna. She met your gaze for a moment and smiled softly at you. Her lopsided grin brought butterflies to your stomach.

Oh fuck…

notes: i caved to the demons (my impatience) ...also enjoy me trying to describe how to smoke a blunt despite having no knowledge on the subject!

#yellowjackets #natalie scatorccio #nat scatorccio #natalie yellowjackets #nat scatorccio x reader #natalie scatorccio x reader #yellow jackets #yj #hell yeah #i locked in #sophie thatcher x reader

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damn-stark · 3 days ago

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Chapter 12 Into the woods

Chapter 12 of Tragedy at the Miller’s

A/N- okay but I kinda really love how this chapter turned out.

Warning- fluff?, ANGST, talks of violence and death, talks of suicide attempt , spoilers for season 2, Remember this is a rewrite not an AU, so the major stuff that happens in the show will happen here :)

Pairing- Joel Miller x daughter!reader (platonic of course :), OC x Fem!reader

Episode- 2x03-2x04, used scenes from the game too

(If you want to be tagged let me know!)

————

“We went to make them pay. Sorry we had to do this the hard way, but you didn’t leave us no other choice. We asked and you turned us down. Now you have to trust that we will come back.

-Dina and Ellie”

“It was stuck to her door?” You ask as you lift the note and show it off to Jesse, who has read it over and over again as if that would bring them both back, or make it any less surprising. It didn’t.

“Yes,” Jesse answers hesitantly as he looks at you with pity and concern, and then flickers his eyes to Apollo with shame. “I’m sorry I came here so early. I really am. I just,” he pauses and focuses on Apollo as if ready to hear his friend get mad at him for involving you, but Jesse shouldn’t worry about Apollo. It’s your Uncle Tommy he should worry about. He seems more bothered by the fact that Jesse chose to come to you instead of just privately going to him. After all, you just barely started talking and getting out of the house; this could mortify you more.

“I thought you needed to know,” Jesse explains his reasoning, but doesn’t make it sound any better to your Uncle. If he had the chance to lie to you about this, he would’ve chosen that because as he looks over at you, he sees you set the note down and drop your face in your palms to try and gather your racing thoughts that don't leave you groggy. You’re left wide awake after reading Ellie’s note—or should you say Dina’s note, there’s no way Ellie would have written so much down. She would’ve made it short and straight to the point.

“I mean, I know they’re both reckless, but to do this? This is something completely beyond reckless and stupid.” Jesse adds, as you start rubbing your temple and revisit what Ellie said, because she’s right, you’re late. Too weak. You knew she was up to something stupid, and you didn’t stop her. You’re too late.

“What do we do with this now?” Jesse keeps filling the silence while Apollo is more worried about how you’re going to take this since you’re being quiet.

“Maybe we can still stop them, or,” Jesse pauses and sighs deeply, choosing to stay quiet instead of finishing what he was going to say.

“Or what?” You finally speak and drop one hand off your face, letting it smack against the dinner table.

“Go after them. I mean,” Jesse goes on hesitantly. “Knowing Ellie, we won’t be able to bring her back now, but maybe we can go after her. Save her and Dina from getting killed.”

Going after her was the first thing you thought of because you know, just like Jesse, that trying to bring Ellie back would be impossible. She’s put her mind to a mission, and it’d be hell to try and convince her to come back.

However, among the many other reasons not to go, you share the most important one that you think about the most. “I’d be the last person she would want after her,” you mumble, piquing all three men’s interest.

“We got into an argument yesterday after the meeting,” you share, and avert your gaze by looking at the note again. “I won’t go into detail, but she basically told me that she never wants to see me again.”

Jesse lifts his eyebrow, expecting more since he doesn’t know the depth of your argument or the hurtful things she said, since you don’t want to badmouth her.

“So you’re going to listen to her?” Jesse asks with disbelief, interrupting your uncle before he can speak up.

“I,” you pause and sit up straight before you take a deep breath and meet his gaze. “I don’t know. I mean, she made her choice. Who am I to stop her? I already tried. I told her not to go, that there is no point, but she got mad.” You say with frustration about your own failures, and because even if you understand that Ellie was mad, the things she said still deeply hurt.

It was the same when you were young. You’d try to help, but you’d always get yelled at and hurt. Only this time it hurts so much worse because it makes you want to die.

It's no exaggeration, that’s the truth, because it’s a truth that is tearing away at you as you speak.

“You’re her sister,” Jesse argues without an ounce of hesitation or shame—“isn’t that point enough? Regardless of what she said?”

You stay quiet and glance at Apollo this time as you think about your other reason not to go.

You have a family now. You can’t just abruptly leave for something that doesn’t guarantee you’ll make it back. They don’t deserve that, and you can’t just do that to them. But Jesse is also right…Ellie is your sister. Would your dad stop from going after her even if she said hurtful things to him?

He would go in a heartbeat, so you…should do the same to help the girl you love, but…there’s so many reasons telling you to stay.

“It is point enough,” your uncle finally chimes in for you and looks at you ever so softly as if a look alone could cause you harm. “Of course, Sunny of all people knows that the words our siblings say at the heat of the moment don’t mean anything, but it’s not easy. For either of us. We can’t just grab a backpack and leave the moment we decide to. Maybe you get that, Jesse, or maybe you don’t. Maybe a couple of years down the line, you’ll realize, but either way, we can’t be as bold with our choices as you.”

Jesse drops his head with shame, and your Uncle leans towards you with even more tenderness. “Don’t break your head over what you want to do. I’ll give you…until tomorrow to think about it.” He says and pats the empty space on the table.

You slowly meet his gaze and feel relieved by his suggestion, and feel that pressure to know what to do decreasing. Yet it doesn’t all vanish.

“Will you go?” You ask your Uncle, knowing Jesse wasn’t asking for permission but more so support before he left.

“I,” your uncle pauses and sits back with his eyes flickering away. “…Don’t know. I’ll think about it too,” he says without looking at you once, but you never give that too much thought.

“Can we really risk being two days behind them?” Jesse blurts, causing your Uncle to snap his gaze to him.

“It’s a risk we have to take and can fix if we choose to go,” your uncle mutters before looking over at you and finding your gaze again. “A day, hm?” He repeats and looks between you and Jesse.

“Okay,” You nod stiffly.

Jesse waits a moment to see if you’ll add anything else, but you go quiet, and your Uncle gets up and looks at him before pointing his head at the door.

“I’m going to head out now,” your Uncle announces as Jesse gets up from his seat. “You think about it.”

You nod again, and Jesse interjects. “Again, I’m sorry I came over so abruptly,” he says, making you drift your eyes to watch him.

“We already told you, it’s okay,” Apollo reassures the young man as he gets off of his chair.

“I’ll go find you later,” you assure Jesse and your Uncle, making Jesse nod in comprehension and making your Uncle linger back before he follows Jesse out of the house, making Apollo see them out.

When Apollo comes back to the dining room, he sees you in the same spot, but this time you have the letter in your hand and you’re reading the letter again with a deep sorrow in your eyes.

“What are we plannin’ to do?” Apollo asks now that you’re in the comfort of each other's privacy.

“I…genuinely don’t know,” you confess and drop the letter to look at him. “A part of me is telling me to go. She’s my sister and she’s risking her life in this cruel world, so even if she says that she doesn’t want to see me again, she still needs me.”

“Tommy is right, when we say we don’t want to see our siblings again, we don't mean it,” Apollo tries to comfort your bleeding heart as he sits across from you to be able to take your hands in his. “She’s mad, but she hasn’t forsaken you.”

You look at him, teary-eyed eyed and finally share everything she told you yesterday. “She said she hated me, Apollo. And maybe I deserve to be hated, I lied, but…how will we go back to what we were? How will she forgive me?”

Apollo sighs and, with a pitiful frown, says a hurtful truth. “You won’t ever get back what you had, but you can get past it. You will get past it.”

You let out a shaky breath and drop your head before you wipe the tears off your face, causing him to caress your knuckles and look at you with more pity.

You’re starting to hate all this pity.

“Another part of me is telling me not to go,” you cut in. “Not for any petty reason, but it’s not as easy as before, you know.” You breathe out deeply.

Apollo nods in agreement before he interjects. “Think about it like Tommy said,” he says without the reassurance that he’ll support whatever choice you make because deep down he hopes you won’t go. He’ll understand if you want to, but it’s like you said, it’s not as easy as before.

“I will, hopefully by today, I don’t want to leave Jesse waiting or have the girls get too ahead,” you say, and let that take over your every waking thought. How could you think about anything else with such a heavy and hard choice to make?

You go out to your garden to think, but you don’t come out with your mind made up, so you try to keep busy inside your house, but nothing comes to mind. You then go for a long walk, hoping that will help you, but you keep debating with yourself. The only thing you end up doing is ending up in front of your dad’s abandoned house.

You don’t know what led you there; whether it’s because of instinct, or because deep down you wanted to come visit his house to find an answer, you don’t know. You just know you’re in front of the driveway, hoping once again that you’ll find him on his porch, but…he’s not there. You can’t even be reassured by the fact that Ellie is in the garage because she’s gone too.

The house is alone. Lifeless and abandoned, with only memories of what was haunting the dust-covered halls.

Even so, as depressing as that is, you still step foot past the threshold that once kept you away, and make your way to the front door.

When you reach the door, you lift your hand with the intention to knock, but you remember that no one is inside, so before you can overthink the matter, you grab the doorknob and open the door.

What once was a warm place lively with comfort, now is a sad reminder of who you lost. Now, there’s no father to welcome you inside, and the smell of coffee doesn’t waft in your nose.

Usually, the lights inside the house were hardly on; he didn’t excessively brighten his house like you or Ellie do, but a light was usually on. Now, there’s only a dull light that fills the house because the sun hides under thick clouds.

Even so, you don’t turn to walk away. For the first time since he died, you step foot inside the house and close the door behind you, expecting nothing; no greeting, no head peeking around a corner, and no distant voice telling you where he is, but oh, the house comes alive with memory.

In the living room, you hear snoring as the TV quietly plays, so you follow the noise and on the lazy-boy, you see the memory of your dad asleep with your infant son asleep in his arms.

In the dining room you hear the commotion of faint laughter, metal clinking against plates, and different conversations across the table, and when you walk to the room, you see a warm light brightening the room and your family dining without a worry, almost as if life held no monsters and everything was normal.

You want to relive just one night. You want to have dinner with the whole of your family again and make one more memory, but the kitchen calls you. The memory of coffee brewing in the kitchen lures you over, and here to keep you company is the memory of you and your dad cooking and doing the dishes as you yapped away and he listened to every word.

A part of you wants to stay to be able to relive through those fond memories, but heavy footsteps thump in the hall, growing more distant as they get further away, so before you can get left behind, you follow after those heavy footsteps and end up at the foot of the stairs.

The haunting footsteps continue to echo on the second floor, but you’re in no rush since you get distracted by the photos your dad hung on the wall going up the stairs.

The first and most recent photo you study is a picture of your dad holding Teddy, who is looking away, but still relaxed in your dad's arms. The next photo you see when you go up a couple of stairs is one of you and all of your family gathered around the table. Ellie and your dad didn’t talk by then so they were at opposite ends, but they were still captured in the same photo, making it seem, without context, that they were a strong united front. If only it were true…

Nevertheless, you move up and the next photo keeps you put longer than the other ones because it’s one of you, Apollo, and your Dad on your wedding day. Your dad was in the middle, keeping you and your husband apart because the old man had a hard time accepting that his youngest daughter was all grown up.

It was funny then, but the memory is even funnier now.

Regardless, you reach the second floor and an end table decorates the end of the hall, holding different pictures and trinkets, but most importantly, it holds a happy picture of you, your dad, and Ellie captured on Ellie’s special birthday trip.

It was a long time ago, and it was the first trip you had together after the big adventure that brought you all together. It's a memory that should help you come up with a decision, but the truth is that you only get more upset over who you lost. So you move on instead, clueless as to what you want to do.

The next place you find yourself in is not Ellie’s bare room. You walk past her room and walk directly into your dad's room, feeling your heart crush when you walk into an empty room holding only memories of him. Not him sleeping on the bed, just an empty room and an empty bed holding a single box.

You grow curious about what the box could possibly contain, so you walk to it, feeling tears fall off your chin and get left on the floor as you hastily reach the bed. Once you get to the box, you don’t hesitate to open it, revealing to yourself that it’s his belongings he had on him when he…died.

There isn't a lot in the box, but you still only drive your focus to his broken watch that he refused to part with, not because it was a trusty gadget that told time, no, the old thing is broken. Which should be a reason to have abandoned it a long time ago, but the watch was a reminder of Sarah, and the last thing he ever gifted her. That’s why he kept it with him at all times, because it felt like carrying her with him.

Why would they make him part with it? Why didn’t they bury him with it?

If only you had been there. You would’ve made sure they were buried together, but…you weren’t there. You didn’t say your last goodbye…

…to either of them…now they’re both gone and you’re here, living on without them. Why?

“Why?” You ask yourself as you clutch onto your dad's broken watch before you turn to look at a picture your dad has on his nightstand, one of before the outbreak. A picture of you, Sarah, and him before the world ended, and where you were happy together.

You want to be with them again, more than anything else in this world. That’s what you want, and that desire, the picture, and the memory it brings, finally lets you come up with an answer.

Thus, you tuck the watch in your pocket and leave the house to go find Jesse first, since he’s more eager to leave.

Luckily, it’s not hard to locate him. You find him in the first place you check; his house, but there with him is your Uncle. They were looking over a map together.

“I decided,” you cut in abruptly, skipping past greetings and asking for explanations. “I’m going.”

“Sunny,” your Uncle Tommy finally parts from the table and approaches you, causing Jesse to back away.

You stay where you are and let your Uncle approach you so he can see how your face contorts with betrayal and frustration.

“I said I’m going,” you cut in confidently. “You can fight me or accept my choice. I'd rather you accept it because by the looks of it we’ll only have a hard time if you don’t.”

Your Uncle sighs and drops his head. “I was just looking out for you,” he explains without as much trouble as it would’ve given your dad to explain. “I’m just worried about you. You’re only now gettin’ better and you have Teddy and Apollo, and I—”

“You were selfish,” you cut him off and step towards him to tilt your head down so he can meet your gaze. “You have Benji and Maria, too, so where’s the difference in that? I can do it,” you proclaim. “I will do it because she’s my sister and she needs me.”

Your Uncle lifts his head, and you follow his movements so as not to lose his gaze. “Meet at my house when you’re done here. We leave today,” you say without giving more explanations.

“Are you sure?” Jesse asks for his own sake.

You look at him over your Uncle’s shoulder and nod stiffly before you step away from his front door. “Positive,” you assure him and then pass him a helpful comment. “Pack the necessities you have at your house. I’ll take care of the rest.”

He offers you a comprehensive nod, so you then face your Uncle and press again to not be at odds. “You go. I go. Simple as that. I’m…okay.”

Your Uncle takes a moment to process that, knowing you too well as to accept that right away, but you're as stubborn as your dad when you want to be, so he chooses to trust you now and gives in. “Alright.”

The corner of your lips tugs up faintly before you then leave and return home with your mind made up, but your heart heavy.

“Apollo?” You call out after you close the front door, but you don’t hear a response, so you walk further inside and check the kitchen and the living room, but he’s not there. You proceed to check the rooms, but he’s not in any and Teddy is not inside either.

Could they be out in town? Maybe.

Yet before you can assume that possibility, you check the backyard, and much to your luck, there they are in the wildflower garden along with your dog Hermes.

You almost don’t want to disturb their peace. You could admire them forever, but you don’t want to risk Jesse getting here and telling Apollo the choice you made, so after a couple of lingering minutes, you join your boys and your dog outside, earning happy reactions from the both of them.

“Ma!” Teddy exclaims and tries to walk to you, but you reach him first and swiftly sweep him off the floor with a beaming grin.

“Hey, cowboy,” you greet and kiss his forehead before you pull your head back as he shows you a single flower he picked. “Oh, would you look at that? Is that for me or you?”

Teddy brings the flower back towards him and stares at it for a moment before he accidentally drops it, making him squirm, so you end up putting him down so he can keep doing whatever it was that he was doing along with Hermes, and so you can take a seat next to Apollo on the bench swing.

“I finally made my choice,” you don’t delay the matter a moment longer, making him pick his eyes off Teddy to look at you nervously. “I’m going. Today.”

There’s no talk about a passionate motivation to go help Ellie from mortal danger. He, of course, thinks he knows why you’re going, and it makes your choice hard to swallow. Not because he doesn’t want you to help Ellie, but because it’s not so simple anymore.

“It seems that my Uncle and Jesse weren’t planning to have me go, but I caught them in time,” you share, but don’t catch Apollo by surprise because he had noticed your Uncle’s intentions from the moment the letter was shared—“So we leave today, just my Uncle, Jesse, and me,” you clarify, but get no big reaction from Apollo. He drops his gaze and sighs before he finally lets his thoughts be heard.

“Yeah, I…didn’t plan to be a part of the trip,” he confesses, leaving you more surprised than he was with what you just told him.

“We have Teddy,” he continues, making you look over at your son with guilt. “One of us has to stay with him. Why should we risk his life, or risk him being left…an orphan if Jackson is safe and one parent who can stay with him?”

You gulp as your guilt digs itself deeper, causing more ache.

“I wish I could go, but one of us has to stay with him, and as much as I wish it was you, I know this mission is important to you,” he continues to clarify his decision and turns his head to look at you while you keep watching Teddy as you try to take advantage of the time you have with him before you have to leave.

“That’s the only reason I’m even supporting it,” he says, and finally brings your eyes back to him. “I just,” he pauses and draws out a heavy breath. “Don’t know how many long goodbyes I have left in me.”

As if you had your breath stolen by him, you gasp softly and look at him with disbelief.

“I love you,” he quickly explains as he sees your reaction. “But things are different now. We have a son. A life together and…I don’t think it’s fair to me or him to uproot it for a trip that may or may not bring you back.”

You avert your gaze and clench your hands into fists.

“You know how much it hurts when people leave you behind,” he points out, making your heart skip a beat while also almost changing your mind. But it’s not enough because your dad's death is in the back of your mind like a plague.

“I do know,” you mumble and look back at him with reassurance. “I wouldn’t be leaving either if it wasn’t for Ellie, but…she…needs me,” you finally repeat your reason for leaving. “Whether she wants my help or not. I owe it to him to try.”

Apollo hums, and you take his hands to make one thing clear.

“But I also know I can’t water dead plants. I know my dad would never stop going after her, but I do know when to stop…there'll be no more long goodbyes after this one.” You clarify, making a soft smile tug on his lips.

“Okay,” he whispers before you let his hands go to wrap him in a tight embrace as if you were already saying your goodbyes when it won’t be for another little while.

“You are the best friend and best husband anyone could ask for,” you tell him as you bury your face in the crook of his neck. “I’m so lucky to have met you. I love you…with all of me.” You say against his flesh, making him grin and hold you tightly against him, to the point you find comfort in his steady heartbeat.

“I love you too,” he redirects. “You are loved so so much, so please come back, okay?”

You pick your face off his neck and rest your chin on his shoulder before you whisper back. “Okay.”

With no promise made and your first round of goodbyes shared, you then continue to watch Teddy play outside for a while longer until you have to go inside to get ready.

About halfway into packing the necessities you have in your house, Jesse and your Uncle finally meet up at your house and wait for a little while, but not as long as they assumed.

“You’re both carrying light,” Jesse points out as he sees that your backpack looks as light as your Uncle’s.

“For now,” you leave him more curious.

“Now,” your Uncle interjects. “It’s night now, so it’s the perfect time to get our horses and sneak out so as not to raise questions, okay? So just act normal.” He says without worry and expects you and Jesse to look the same, but Jesse looks lost.

“What about weapons? Are we just going to stroll in the armory and take what we need? Those are locked.” Jesse asks the most important question. “And food?”

You share a knowing look with your Uncle and Apollo before you decide to tell Jesse the secret early. “We have all that a couple of miles out of Jackson.”

Jesse blinks in disbelief, so you explain yourself further.

“Jackson is home. Jackson is safe, but we’ve been around long enough, and early in our years, we knew this man named Bill. He was…what my Daddy called an end-of-the-world prepper, so to make this story short, he warned my dad to always have an escape plan if we found ourselves in communities, especially because he had a daughter. My dad took that to heart, and he did exactly that. An escape plan.” You reveal with a smug smirk. “He hid a cache just outside of Jackson that he let a few of us know about.”

Jesse scoffs, and before he can feel proud over your father's genius plan, he asks one more question that immediately comes to mind. “Ellie left first. I’m pretty sure she emptied that.”

You scoff. “You really think we would let Ellie know?” You remark lightheartedly. “She would have emptied that a long time ago, knowing her, so we didn’t tell her. Weapons, food, flashlights, and everything we need is already there. I'm assuming you have a path mapped out,” you point out with a hint of annoyance, making your Uncle sigh deeply before he has no choice but to agree.

“We do, we just need to go collect our cache. So it begs the question, are you two ready to go?”

Without hesitation or anything holding you back, you nod to give him an answer before you confirm it verbally. “I’m ready.”

Jesse nods in agreement without so much as doubt, but what follows holds you back, so before you can leave, you turn to Apollo, but not with sorrow and uncertainty to leave. You look at him softly and completely enamored. “I love you. Always.”

He smiles back at you tenderly and without caring that you have company so close by; he smacks his lips on yours and steals a kiss.

Knowing this kiss will be your last, you capture his jaw to press him closer and spark a passion that makes you move ravenously. You almost don't have the heart or will to break away, but you taste a salty tear mix in your passion, so you pull away, but keep him close to take note of every feature on his face.

“I’ll be here. Waiting,” he says, pulling more tears out of your eyes. “My love. My world. My light.”

You smile at him tenderly and have to steal one last kiss.

Before you can part to give your son your goodbyes, you reach inside your shirt and pull out his old Firefly pendant to assure him. “I’ll have you close. Always.”

He scoffs softly and looks away shyly, letting you then move away to find your son in the living room playing on the floor with his toys.

“Take care of each other,” you hear Apollo tell Jesse while you go on your knees to grab your son's attention.

“Teddy, I’m going to be leaving now, okay?” You tell your son who is cluelessly gripping onto his toys. “You’re gonna be stayin’ with your Daddy, so you be good to him, okay?”

The baby blabbers and offers you his toy giraffe, so you take it and press it against your chest. “I’ll keep you close, okay?”

Teddy asks for his toy back, so you give it back with a giggle and then lean in to hug him tightly, causing him to laugh in response.

“I love you, my Theo,” you whisper. “Don’t forget me.”

Teddy stays in your embrace until you let go, and before you can completely part from him, you face him one last time and then force yourself away to make your way to the front door with Jesse and your Uncle trailing after you, and Apollo trailing after them.

Once you reach the door, you give Apollo one last embrace because if he went to see you off at the gate, people would grow suspicious, so he sees you to the door instead.

“Ready?” Your Uncle asks one last time as you face your traveling partners.

“Ready,” you and Jesse answer at the same time with confidence and determination

——

*A COUPLE WEEKS LATER*

Thanks to your travel experience, you were able to help with some kinks to your Uncle and Jesse’s initial path to Seattle to avoid as many potential obstacles as possible. It is hard to know if you’ll come across something as small as a camp or as big as a town, but you avoid cities, highways, and freeways and stick to the woods and backroads where people usually don’t settle, and infected are least likely to roam.

Luckily, it’s just three of you, so you’re least likely to catch anyone’s attention. You don’t have a dog to help you with what you humans can't catch, but you don’t stop to loot anywhere and are never too loud or keep the light on too long. It’s not because you just set up camp to simply eat and sleep; you make conversation, you share stories, and laugh at jokes. You never disagree with one another because Jesse respects the plans of more experienced travelers, and you trust your Uncle, and he trusts you, but there, between both men and you, is a threshold.

Your Uncle sees it, but he doesn’t want to cross it. He gives you space because he thinks that’s the answer, and he likes to think he knows you more than he knows himself, but Jesse is different; he can see what your Uncle is failing to catch. It would be impossible not to, since you're on the road with no one but each other, but instead of getting closer on this trip, there’s always a barrier between them and you, and he can feel it.

Maybe it is because you’ve been on the road with only each other as company, so it’d be hard to miss, but it’s almost so thick that Jesse swears he can almost touch it with the pads of his fingers. It’s where you keep the person you really are and every emotion that riddles that you.

As much as Jesse wants to cross that threshold, though, you never let him cross it. You keep him and your Uncle at the other side and let them see an unusual bliss that feels inorganic.

“I see something brown,” you share, making Jesse search the area around you before he examines the sky to try and find what you spotted, making it the perfect game to keep you and Jesse entertained while also working to search the area for anything suspicious.

“That hawk circling the area over there,” Jesse points out exactly what you had seen.

“Yes,” you praise him with a smile. “A red-tailed hawk, if I remember correctly, right, Uncle Tommy?”

Said man searches the sky until he finds the distant fella and shrugs. “I wouldn’t know anymore. I only made you memorize them so we could get some teaching in while on the road.”

You groan and then look back at Jesse and add on. “Either way, it’s not very good to eat.”

Jesse scoffs with curiosity twinkling in his eyes. “Before or after?” He asks, referring to before Jackson or on your nationwide road trip.

“Before,” you let him know, and turn your eyes away from the sky when the hawk is out of view. “Of course, my Uncle Tommy, here, caught it. I helped…kinda. It moved too much for me, so we didn’t want to risk it then, but I helped locate it after we hunted it down.”

“Pretty much the same thing,” he jokes, making you giggle.

“I’ll say. Okay,” you focus back on the game. “Now you. Go. Last one. Make it hard.”

Jesse hums and his eyes search high up in the tall trees and down low at the horses you ride before looking at every green bush, colored plant, grey rock, and anything else you have yet to cross and that surrounds you until his eyes seem to lock on something.

You try to pinpoint what it is by following his line of gaze and blurting the first thing you see. “Fern!”

Jesse rolls his eyes and turns his attention to you. “No. Not close. Something…you can slip on if you are not careful.”

You press your lips together and search the area he had focused on to try and find what he said with the clue he gave. However, there’s no mud because it hasn't rained. There’s no moss that you can see. You can’t see flat rocks on the ground or any twigs that can get caught under your shoe.

“Bark?” You ask hesitantly.

A faint smirk tugs on his lips before he shakes his head. “No. Listen.”

You strain your ear and catch the call of the same Red-tailed hawk in the distance. You hear different birds chirping, and past that, you hear a rush of water, but you can’t see it.

That can’t be it.

“A river?” You ask with confusion, and as unsure as you are of your response, Jesse actually nods.

“Yeah.”

“Well,” you smack your lips. “That ain’t close. I mean, I can’t see it.”

Your Uncle chuckles from the front of the caravan, and Jesse shakes his head with the smug smile still attached to his face. “Nope, but it’s not I-spy. We just have to find what the other person points out.” He says cockily, so you roll your eyes and sigh deeply.

“Whatever,” you grumble and then nudge your horse to pick up her pace and take the lead to reach the river faster. “We should fill up our bottles and let the horses hydrate,” you share your thoughts with the men who don't question you. After all, you won’t come across another body of water today or tomorrow.

Yet when you reach the river, you find out that it was loud enough to be heard from afar for a reason; the water is running faster, and it's higher than it should be.

“Melting snow and the recent storm?” Jesse asks for reassurance, so you and your Uncle give it to him because that is the only reason the water is so high.

“Yep.” You sigh.

Luckily, a wide tree has fallen over the river, so you will save time and energy by crossing to reach the other side, but how steady is it against the rushing water is the important question.

“We’ll cross one by one,” your Uncle suggests as you keep your eyes on the fallen tree to see if it’ll move.

“But don’t get off your horse. Just keep the pace slow and steady,” your Uncle adds. “Questions?”

You shake your head, and Jesse turns his head to look at him, but doesn’t give any notes. “Yeah. That sounds good. I trust you.”

You draw out a deep breath and nod along. “Me too,” you echo and then look back at the tree before you interject. “Jesse, you go first.”

Your Uncle and Jesse look at you, and they get ready to argue, but you snap your eyes to Jesse and insist. “Go. I’ll go right after you. Just don’t look back. Eyes forward and don’t panic or the horse will panic, hm?”

Jesse finds your insistence to go first annoying because he wants you to get across safely first, just in case something goes wrong, but there’s no point arguing. Thus, before you can waste any more time, Jesse nudges his horse and moves forward.

At first, the horse seems hesitant to climb on the tree because the river is loud and walking on a tree hasn’t been common for them to do, but after some sweet and quiet comforting from Jesse, the horse climbs on and slowly begins to take Jesse across.

You stay behind and don’t dare to move an inch because you don’t want to risk spooking his horse or even moving a pebble on the ground, in case that somehow makes the tree move.

You hold your breath and grow more tense by the second. A part of you wants to rush Jesse so he can get across as soon as possible, but the other part of you is logical and keeps you quiet as you watch every step with laser focus.

No part of you is at ease until finally, Jesse reaches the other side successfully.

“Great job!” You praise and clap for both the horse and him.

“Thank you, now come across,” he urges you without really soaking in the great achievement so as not to risk anything changing in the tree's stability or the rushing water.

Your Uncle takes that under consideration and presses you, too. “You heard him. Go. I’m right behind you. Nice and slow.”

You glance at him and nod in comprehension, but you don’t hesitate or take any of their warnings under consideration. What used to worry you and keep you tense doesn’t affect you now that it’s your turn. You don’t rush across. You take it slow and ease your horse on the tree, but you don’t hold the same anxiety that you noticed in Jesse when he crossed.

You don’t hold a sense of cockiness either. You just don’t care when it comes to you crossing. Maybe that’s what changed when you cross, or maybe it was just the rushing water smacking against the tree. Either way, the movement is small at first, it makes your heart skip a beat, and it makes Jesse and your Uncle move their horses forward.

The second time the tree moves, your horse slips. Yet you don’t react with fear and scream for help when you crash into the water and fall off your horse. You don’t panic when the force of the water shoves you under its angry waves either.

You feel a sense of relief, and when you hit the back of your head against a rock on the river floor, there’s ecstasy that rushes through your blood seconds before it all goes black.

At first, you expect the darkness to be fleeting. You expect to wake up and see the cloudy sky, but when you open your eyes, that ecstasy runs faster when you see your house.

Not your small yellow house in Jackson, no. You’re in front of your house in Austin, Texas. You’re home, and it’s just as you left it before the outbreak. Nothing is overgrown, the windows aren’t broken, and the roof isn’t crumbling. It’s in a perfect state, and you don’t question why it’s so.

You don’t even ask why you’re standing in front of it. You just grin with genuine glee and cut across the lawn. When you reach the door, you hesitate to steady your heartbeat before you open the door and immediately get greeted by everything you once knew.

Everything is the same. Nothing is out of place, not a pillow on the couch, and not a speck of dust. The one difference is that the sun shines through the windows, brightening and warming up the living room. Oh, and there’s a smell. A good smell that awakens your appetite, so you follow it across the living room and into the kitchen, noticing right away that it’s lively past the back door. There’s a long picnic table outside adorned with a simple yet cute white tablecloth, and plates and silverware are set on top of it waiting to be used.

Who did all this? You ask yourself, and slowly walk to the back door to try and see who’s outside.

Yet before you can even reach for the door, someone walks up to the door, someone you spent missing longer than you knew them. Someone you often think about and frequently miss. Someone sweet and beautiful, Sarah.

She’s in a nice sun dress that complements her skin. She dons a small amount of mascara, a pink lip gloss that makes her lips shiny, and when she reaches the door and faces you, she offers you her incredible smile that drives you to her without even thinking about it.

You should have. You should have hesitated opening the door and stepping outside, but you’re too happy and too ready to even hesitate. You just throw your arms around your sister again and hold her close.

“Sarah,” you whisper with a break in your voice as tears fill your eyes. “I missed you,” you add, and feel her hold you back.

“Me too,” she says sweetly, and it’s those words alone that make you feel safe again. Like the world couldn’t hurt you, and you were invincible. You felt like a little girl again back in 2003, and you enjoyed it. You made yourself at home in your sister's embrace in this peaceful afterlife.

“I…I really missed you,” you express yourself again before you pull back and face her sweet and young face, catching your reflection in her light, earthy eyes and seeing your face unchanged. You're just all dolled up in a sundress, just like her.

“I’m still older,” she reminds you, and you don’t deny her.

You laugh and assure her.

“Always,” you say, and then from one moment to another, the sound of a giggle steals your attention. When you look over, tending to the grill is a woman with her back turned to you, so you can’t take note of her face, you just see her hair and the color of her skin, but after that, it’s easy to guess that it’s your mother.

You don’t need to see her face, you know for certain because next to her is your dad.

“Daddy,” you call out with a quiver, and as said man turns to give you his attention, you march over there, but don’t embrace him like you did with Sarah. You face him with your face pampered with tears and immediately try to share your pain.

“Daddy, I’m…it…I’m sorry.” You cry while said man stays quiet, but grabs your shoulders to make you meet his gaze before he wipes away your tears.

“Come sit,” you hear Sarah say from the other end of the table. “The food is ready.”

You hold your dad's gaze, but he quickly looks away to point at an empty seat at the end of the table with a name card you can’t read. Nor do you intend to read right now.

You part from your dad and once again, without hesitation, you follow Sarah and sit at the end of the table next to her. There’s no question about it, and you don’t look back for anyone. You just take your seat and wait, seeing your dad sitting at the other end of the table across from you before the food comes. He then looks at an empty seat next to him and this time you read the name card, ‘Ellie Williams.’.

You gasp and feel a pull. At last, in the bliss, there’s a pull.

Yet you forget all about it when the woman at the grill finally turns and shows you a face you have only seen in pictures; your mother.

She turns with the food in her hands and walks over to you first to serve you.

“Mama,” you whisper happily, earning a sweet smile that makes you want to stay even more so you can keep seeing her smile. You don't want to leave. You want to stay here with her, Sarah, and your dad. It’s a choice, and you want to take it. You’re ready. It’s why you came on this trip, to reunite with them. It wasn’t Ellie who brought you on this trip; it was the need to be with your family, and you’re finally with them. Now, every muscle in your body is telling you not to look back.

Albeit as your mother walks away, you follow her with your eyes and in doing so, you catch the other empty chairs with name cards of their own.

Next to you on your left is ‘Theo Holloway.’ Next to him and in the middle is ‘Apollo Holloway’, and of course, next to him is Ellie.

Their seats are empty, and they will be empty for a while.

That thought makes you feel that pull stronger than before, but you’re still hesitant because of Sarah and your mother. You want to stay with them and him too, but when you look at him, without saying it, he’s urging you to go back.

“Please,” he finally speaks with tears welling in his eyes.

“But,” you try to argue, but stop to look at the empty seats again. “What good am I there?” You ask and look at him again. “I couldn’t save you. You’re dead because of me, and I…couldn't handle the weight of it. It was crushing me. I feel…weightless here. Happy. Please let me stay. I want to stay.”

You will. It’s your choice and you’re making it…

But there’s also Ellie…if you can’t handle the weight, how is she fairing? Dina was there when your dad died, but she can’t possibly feel the same crushing weight or the same heartache that never stops hurting. Only you and Ellie know that feeling, and if you stay…she has no one…

Damn it…

“Daddy,” you say softly, and without saying it he finally smiles at you, making that gesture and his face be the last thing you see before it’s all taken away and you’re in that lodge, seeing him die again for a fleeting second before you’re transported back to life panicked and surrounded by dark rushing water for a moment before you’re yanked out and thrown on the ground where you cough out water and try to draw in the air that will keep you alive.

“Oh, thank god!” Jesse gasps while your uncle grabs your arm to sit you up to pat your back to help you get all the water out.

Once you’ve gathered your breath and stopped with your coughing fit, your uncle throws his arms around you, feeling all the weight of the world rise off his shoulders as he sees that you’re okay now.

“Thank god,” he whispers. “I thought I lost ya there for a second.”

You rest your chin on his shoulder and look anything but relieved.

That feeling will pass, but right now you’re more disappointed than grateful because you got taken away from everything you wanted. Peace, bliss, and your home.

Still, your uncle doesn’t notice that, but Jesse does. He just doesn’t say anything on the matter and instead watches you look ahead blankly whilst you relish in your Uncle's embrace.

“You might have a concussion, so let’s call today a day. There seems to be a town nearby. We can find some to hold up there,” your uncle suggests as he pulls away from the embrace to very swiftly walk around you to check on your head as if rehearsed, or fallen back to old habits from your early years traveling together.

“It’s abandoned,” you input, and let your Uncle check on you, realizing that at that moment, your horse is alive, just soaked and unharmed. You got the worst of the fall. “At least the last time I passed it was. I didn’t even encounter any infected.”

“But it doesn’t mean there isn’t any,” Jesse interjects, making your uncle agree.

“That’s true. What’s the last place you stayed at, Sunny?” Your Uncle asks as he moves away to grab the blanket off his horse to wrap it around you.

“No,” you shake your head. “We didn’t stay. We passed by, but I did see a bank. A pretty big one. It could have a vault.”

Your uncle stays quiet for a moment before he nods. “Okay. We’ll check it out. Come on, let’s get you out of those wet clothes so we can go. You don’t have any cuts or anything concerning, but we’ll just have you stay out of any action for a while.”

“Okay,” you agree without a fight and follow him to borrow some clothes since everything you own, even your horse, is soaked.

Once you get yourself situated, you get back on the road and don’t take long to come across the town you talked about, finding it empty of any people and infected. Or at least, the infected aren’t roaming the streets. If people were here, it’d be obvious, instead, it’s a ghost town, and that raises the hairs on the back of your neck rather than making you feel relaxed.

It's a good thing you stick to the bank and don’t take time to explore a thing, who knows what monsters lurk in the shadows.

“The horses look like they fit through the rubble,” your uncle Tommy lets you and Jesse know before he walks out to grab his horse's reins and leads her inside.

You don’t doubt your Uncle, so you follow behind him with your horse, and then Jesse trails after you.

When you’re inside and making your way further inside the bank, you can’t help but be taken aback just a little by the state of the entrance of the bank. It’s one of the few things you like about this new world; man-made things slowly being taken over by Mother Earth. It can be a breathtaking sight, and the entrance of the bank is one of those sights.

The entrance is collapsed in it on itself, letting in only sparse beams of light inside through broken windows and cracks on the cement, leaving it pretty dim, but it’s the right amount of light to let you see how moss and greenery have slowly claimed the destruction, and the way the puddled rain water glimmers on the ground.

“It’d suck to make it this far in our trip and get killed by debris,” Jesse comments as he follows you, and you follow your Uncle through the maze that debris made.

“Don’t worry.” Your Uncle chuckles. “It’s probably been like this for years. It ain't collapsin’ today…maybe.”

You muster a smile, and Jesse feigns a laugh at your Uncle’s very reassuring comment.

“I see a way inside just over there,” your Uncle points out, but you don’t catch what he does right away. You have to walk in just a little further to see the gap he pointed out, and once you do, you and Jesse go completely serious again.

However, before you can walk through the gap to see what the inside holds, your uncle brings you all to a stop to listen first.

You don’t hear anything right away, so your Uncle grabs a pebble and throws it inside, causing two growls to respond, and letting you see a picture of what you could find inside. Albeit it’s blurry since you can’t be sure if it’s just two infected until you’re inside.

“Okay, Jesse, you’ll go in with me and help me take out the infected. Sunny,” he whispers directly at you before you can argue. “You stay here until I come back to give you all the clear, okay?” He presses, and you part your lips to argue, but he cuts in right away.

“I wasn’t askin’ for your opinion. I just wanted to know if you caught all that.”

You huff and challenge his gaze for a second before you nod stiffly.

“Good. Now keep your eyes and ears open,” he reminds you before he turns away and leads the way again. You don’t cross that threshold, but you walk to the edge and peek out, catching a glimpse of Jesse and your Uncle before you hear the nerve-wracking sound of clickers, giving the answer as to what kind of infected the men will be facing, and making you think about disobeying your Uncle.

You believe that both men will be able to handle the clickers, but it doesn't take away from the fact that you’ll be a big advantage.

Yet, you don’t jump down to the ground floor to join them. You stay put and watch them creep away and get out of sight to try and catch the clickers off guard to make as little fuss as possible.

You try to strain your ear, but you can hear the clicking sound of clickers, which is a good thing. It means their plan to sneak up on them is working.

However, it’s because it’s quiet and you’re trying to be even quieter that you hear the sound of rubble falling in the water. At first, you think nothing of it. It must be natural because of the state of this place, but you hear it again, and followed by that is the sound of bare flesh hitting the cement.

It can’t be your horses because you left them near the entrance, plus their hoofs wouldn’t sound like that. It’s…some kind of infected, and basing it off how quiet it is, you’re assuming it’s a Stalker.

You can only be sure if you look, so you slowly reach for your revolver before you very slowly start to churn your head.

Just as you catch a glimpse of its ugly face and prove that it’s in fact a Stalker, suddenly the monster lunges at you, causing you to scream, and since you’re on the ledge, you lose balance and fall inside the bank with your back slamming on the ground and the infected landing on top of you.

The noise of the altercation alerts the clickers, making Jesse and your Uncle have to resort to charging at them instead. All while you try with all your might to hold the Stalker back and keep it from biting you, and honestly, finding a way to get it off you is quite easy. You can do it, but you choose to struggle. You see the potential in letting it take a nip of your flesh and choose to struggle.

And oh, the thought of having no choice but to accept death's comforting embrace is tempting because it means that you would be able to be there again. The peaceful afterlife you left. There would be no choice around it, you would be there again with Sarah, your mom, and most importantly, your dad.

You’d get to apologize for not trying harder this time. You’d remind him that you love him and that no place could ever be home if he wasn’t with you. Most importantly, you’d be able to feel like you aren’t getting choked and crushed by the incredible weight pressing down on you.

You’d be weightless and pain-free…

Yet just as you start to picture that perfect afterlife, the image of Ellie’s empty chair flashes in your mind, and your mind is bombarded with the thought of her.

Guilt and the reminder of why you chose to live in the first place seeps right back inside, and you gain the will and the might to shove the Stalker off of you.

Before it can come charging at you or go hide, you drag yourself to your ass and hit the trigger of your gun not just once, but three times until you make sure it won’t even twitch.

After that, once the Stalker is dead, you look for your Uncle and Jesse, catching your Uncle hitting his armored Clicker with the end of his rifle over and over again. It’s already dead, but he keeps hitting it with so much force that its head gets crushed into smithereens.

Jesse, on the other hand, seemed to have shot his clicker and left it alone once it was lifeless, so you catch him walking over to you now.

“Is it clear?” You ask as he walks over.

“The commotion would have made any others come out so, it seems like it, yeah,” he assures you, and the moment he reaches you, he offers you his hand like a nice gentleman, so you accept his help and get up on your feet with some struggle.

There’s no sharp pain. Just aches from all the falling today.

Nevertheless, your uncle seems to snap out of whatever spell had him obliterating that Clicker, the moment he catches a glimpse of you standing on your given height.

At first, he calls out your name as his contorted face comes undone and expresses pure concern. After that, he rushes over to you. “Are you okay?” He asks as he studies you. “You weren’t bit were you?”

You meet his dark, worried gaze and feel more guilt hitting you for wanting to leave your Uncle behind when all he does is worry about you.

“No,” you assure him softly, and without thinking, you step forward to wrap him in an embrace that catches him off guard. “I’m okay. Thank you,” you whisper as your eyes get glossy.

“Good,” your Uncle scoffs with confusion mixing with his relief. “I’m glad. Now, why don’t we find the vault to rest? You need it.”

“We all do,” you add and pull back to face both men.

“Come on then,” your uncle says without wasting another minute before leading the way through the now empty bank.

“I wonder why that clicker had armor on,” you fill the silence as you walk past the armored clicker. “Is that how armed the security was at banks?”

“No,” your Uncle answers your curiosity. “There were securities sometimes, but never armed like that. Not unless someone was trying to rob the bank.”

You hum and let a short silence fall as you reach the deposit box area, finding at that moment, an old corpse by an empty duffle bag.

That explains the armored Clicker and the other clicker Jesse took down.

“Oh, would you look at that?” Your Uncle muses as all three of you walk into the room.

“It didn’t seem like it was his lucky day,” Jesse comments as you look at the scene on the floor.

“A lot of people started breaking into banks when the outbreak happened,” your Uncle shares as he walks to the duffle to look through it. “With the whole world erupting into chaos, everyone thought it would be easy to get rich or get stuff otherwise unattainable. I guess nobody thought it would be the end of the world until it was.”

You walk away to look around at all the deposit boxes still locked and hiding riches that will always be hidden away.

“Why would people keep stuff here?” Jesse asks as he also departs from your Uncle to also take a look around.

“Well, this place was protected, so instead of leaving it all vulnerable at home, some people trusted the bank to keep their money or valuables safe.”

“I saw this movie with Apollo once where the bank workers would replace the jewelry with fake jewelry to be able to cash it,” you mention and sigh as you start to miss your husband and your baby.

“Oh yeah,” Jesse chimes in as he snaps his fingers. “I’ve seen that movie before. It was really good.”

You hum and start to drag your feet. “I miss Apollo and Teddy. I wish phones worked,” you grumble and turn as you see nothing worthwhile—“that’s something I miss.”

Your Uncle gets up with a paper in hand and chuckles at you. “You were four before, who would you call?” He teases.

You grab your back straps and start to walk back towards him. “Well, you,” you remind him, making him scoff in amusement. “And I would call…my…dad,” you trail off into a whisper. “That’s all, but hey,” you say louder with a faint smile. “I have people I can call now. That’s why I miss them.”

“We’ll be back home soon,” your Uncle tries to assure you. “Now, thank these stupid bank robbers for leaving the code to the vault,” your uncle shows off. “We’ll be able to stay inside for the night and not have a lookout.”

Jesse claps quietly, and you look over at the corpse. “Thank you,” you direct at if before you follow your uncle to the giant metal door.

You try to help after he unlocks it, but he pushes you away and makes Jesse help open the door.

“And welcome,” your uncle tries to make light of the night. “Take a breath and take the night off from all the worry. We’ll be able to sleep comfortably tonight.”

“Is that so?” Jesse doubts the area, and he has every right to, but your uncle is right.

“Yeah, it is,” you assure him as you walk in first, seeing a skeleton inside. Only this one dons armor, and holds onto a shotgun they seemed to have used to end their misery.

“We would stay in places like this often,” you continue as you grab the armored skeleton and drag it out past the big door so it’s not an eyesore in the room.

“If someone does try to come in, we’ll hear them struggle to open the door,” your Uncle adds. “That will give us time to react. That’s why Joel chose to stay in places like these in the beginning. Sunny was a little girl, so we took extra precautions.”

You don’t comment on the memory or try to recall those old days. You drop the skeleton and walk back inside to wander around, seeing that the deposit boxes are open in this room, so you snoop through them as Jesse and your Uncle gather abandoned money to use for a fire to have light and make the room warm.

“What would the old you from the old world think about you doing this?” Jesse asks your Uncle. “I mean you were all dependent on this, weren’t you?”

“Well, first, I would assume I was insane or crazy rich,” your uncle says. “And second, yes, this was once our livelihood. We didn’t have a lot of it, but…we were happy.”

“I sometimes wonder what my life would’ve looked like if I got to live in the old world,” Jesse keeps filling the silence, making you peer over with an amused smile. “Maybe I would’ve been in construction like you.”

Your uncle scoffs. “Ah, nah. Think bigger. I was lame.”

“You said you were happy,” Jesse counters, making you smirk. “Doesn’t sound bad to me.”

Your uncle goes quiet for a moment, and a match strikes before he offers him a response. “I never appreciated it until after. Until it was all gone. I imagine that was everyone’s life story.”

You turn away from the pair and hear a fire start as you continue to snoop through, noticing a silver ring in one of the open boxes and immediately taking it as you think about Apollo.

“Look at this,” you call for everyone's attention and turn to show the ring off. “You think Apollo will like it?” You ask as you bring the ringer closer, as you see words engraved on it. “His wedding band is good, but I always wanted something better for him. This looks better. Besides, he deserves it for being so understanding of my decision.”

“I think it’ll be nice, Sunny, take it,” your uncle backs up your choice before he also sounds thoughtful. “I should get something for Maria and Benji too.”

You smile at him and assure him. “I’ll keep my eye out for you,” you let him know, and finally recognize that the words engraved on the ring are Latin, but you have no idea what it means.

‘Sic Parvis Magna’

Apollo's dad can probably figure it out. He was a university teacher who taught about Ancient Greece and other ancient stuff.

“Thank you,” your uncle says back. “Now, let's close that door and gather for dinner. We should take advantage of the extra security to get as much sleep as we can before we have to leave. Plus, you,” he points at you. “You need to rest. You’ve been through it today. You need it.”

You hum in agreement and go on to help with what you can, or with what they let you help with. Which is not a lot, they let you take tonight easy because of your concussion and the tumble that left your body aching.

It does feel quite odd letting yourselves be so relaxed though, after weeks on the road having to be on guard and look over your shoulder. So much so that at first you’re all so tense, but after a while, once you’re all reassured that no one is coming in and no infected is lurking outside, you all exhale and let yourselves loose. You share stories, and mostly answer Jesse’s curiosities about the old world because he likes to hear about your Uncle’s past, and no matter how many times you’ve heard it, you never tire of the stories he tells.

There was even a moment when you were all gathered around the fire that you laughed. You genuinely laughed a hearty laugh.

The action felt so foreign yet so…good, like everything that torments you would be temporary and you’d be alright.

Maybe you should’ve hung onto that feeling to try and mend your broken soul, but you remembered why you’re so far from home and the events that caused it, and that small taste of healing vanishes, leaving your world broken again.

Only as you come off this high, you hurt so much worse. As if it happened for the first time. That’s why you can’t sleep, or you choose not to, because you know the nightmares that await you, and Apollo is not here to keep you grounded or make you feel safe.

Staying awake won’t help you feel better about your injuries, but you’d rather spend a sleepless night than have to go through the memories that torment you at night. Besides, it seems like you’re not the only one awake.

In the darkness that swallows the room, you see Jesse getting out of his sleeping bag, so after a while of giving him time to himself, you join him in a corner filled with more stacks of money.

“It’s crazy to me that this paper controlled the world,” he whispers thoughtfully.

“I had a piggy bank once,” you share as you’re on the topic of money again. “I kept my allowance in it. Of course, I wouldn’t get the big bucks like my sister, but I would get dollar bills from my dad, my uncle, or the neighbors.”

Jesse chuckles, and you smile softly.

“Oh yeah, I was really well-liked, but that’s beside the point,” you brush it off and continue with your story. “I was saving up for this beautiful princess tea set. That was all I was saving up for, so when the time came to go buy it, I collected all my money, went to the store, grabbed my princess tea set, and put my money on the counter…guess how much I had.”

Jesse shakes his head before he gives you a response. “More than enough?”

You scoff. “Five dollars. The princess tea set was fifteen.”

“So all that saving up…what was it for?”

You sigh. “Ice cream and candy. I had wasted my money on ice cream and candy. Every time I went to the store or the ice cream truck passed, I used my money. That’s where it all went,” you share with disappointment. “I was devastated.”

“Let me guess,” Jesse adds. “Your dad put in the rest?”

You smile softly right away and nod. “Yeah, he did, and then when we got home, I dressed up my dad and my sister, and we had tea.” You smile wider at the faint memory, but as the darkness once again consumes you, you grow sorrowful.

A silence proceeds to blanket you and Jesse for a moment, letting you both take a seat on the uncomfortable stack of money and focus on nothing and everything the room holds.

“Can I ask you something?” Jesse asks, breaking the silence and drifting your gaze to him.

“Shoot,” you encourage him, making him sigh and welcome a short silence before he lifts his head and turns it to face you.

At first, you can’t make him out in the darkness, but as he lets the silence build, you slowly make out his face, catching a boy-like curiosity. Not one that makes his eyes twinkle, but a curiosity that adds a weight to the conversation, as you know he’s about to be vulnerable.

“How can you put on such a brave face in the face of danger?” He finally asks, making your eyebrows twitch together before you question something.

“You aren’t a coward. I actually admire your bravery and your courage. You're hard to scare, so what do you mean?”

Jesse sighs deeply and averts his gaze to explain himself. “Today, when you fell in the river, you looked anything but scared. And earlier, with that Infected, your face never once showed a glimpse of fear. Are you just used to this world? Or what’s your secret? I’m genuinely curious.”

You falter, and that secret you’ve been keeping from them threatens to come out. “I am scared,” you reveal. “All the time, I just…” You trail off and swallow thickly, feeling your secret press harder to come out as it's just you and him. Your uncle is sleeping, it's just you and Jesse.

Yet it’s the thought that Jesse will know that makes you fight to keep in what you feel.

“I won’t share your secret,” he presses, making your eyes flicker back to him and feel your breath hitch, but that need to keep everything in keeps holding on.

“…I just can’t let it get the best of me,” you continue with what you were saying. “Or it will consume me…” You trail off again and drop your head, hiding that desperate desire to speak your mind.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse cuts in, changing the subject bluntly. “When I went to you about going after Ellie, I pushed. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have.”

You shrug softly. “I needed it. I couldn’t afford letting her get days ahead or even reach Seattle before I made up my mind,” you assure him before you face him and probe. “Why did you come though? Is it to help Dina?”

He scoffs and shakes his head. “No, it’s not just about her,” he shares. “It’s about Ellie, too. I would have gone with them if they had asked. Begrudgingly, but I would have. My friends' problems are my problems.”

You smile in admiration right away as you nod slowly in comprehension. “Nice,” you praise him and avert your gaze again.

As Jesse doesn’t get what he was initially searching for, he boldly crosses that threshold you had kept between you, your uncle, and him.

“What was that hesitation with the infected about?”

You act surprised, but he’s not as patient anymore. He’s persistent and worried.

“I promised my friend Apollo I would look after you, I intend to keep my promise.”

You scoff softly and shake your head, hesitating just a moment longer but finally finding a foothold to slowly tear that wall down. “That day my dad died,” you begin to share slowly. “They caught me off guard, and no matter how hard I tried, how reckless I was, I couldn’t help him. I couldn’t…I couldn’t save him, and now I see it every day as if it happened yesterday. It torments me while I’m awake and in my sleep, and I can’t…it’s,” your voice quivers. “It’s crushing me. That’s why I came…to find an end to my torment because it hurts. It hurts so much.” You cry but immediately cover your mouth to not wake up your uncle.

“It’s selfish, I know,” you say what you assume Jesse is thinking. “But that’s my secret. A desire to die.” You exhale deeply and slide your hands off your face before you keep going as you can’t make yourself stop and need to make it sound better.

“And I found it. My escape. When I fell into that river, I had a choice. I was…home in Texas, and I felt so weightless. Not only that, but I was with…her…my sister, my mom, and…my dad. I was home, and it felt…so good. Every bone and muscle in my body told me to stay,” you whisper. “I felt that need so deeply inside me that for a moment…it was no longer a choice, but then…there was an empty chair with a name card on it. Ellie’s,” you pause and wipe the tears off your cheeks.

“I tried to fight myself, but then I thought of how alone she’ll be, and I know…I know she has you, Dina, and everyone else, but there’s this connection only she and I share. A connection only she and I know because no one loved him like we did and…I thought about how alone she would be if I did slip away, and…that thought brought me back. She did,” you finish saying and keep wiping tears off your face.

“I’m sorry,” Jesse tries to offer some consolation. “And I think you made the right choice. As costly as it seemed.”

You sniffle. “I’m horrible,” you can’t help but spill. “I didn’t even think about my family. I was so ready. It hurt so much to come back because I was with him, but then I wasn’t. I…I,” you can’t finish saying, and drop your head to cry as quietly as possible.

“Just,” you add as you wipe your face and face him again. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Especially not her. I’ll be good now,” you reassure him. “I’m trying. I am. For her.”

“I won’t,” Jesse whispers as he watches how much you struggle to stop from sobbing.

He had watched you from his seat the entire time because he didn’t know how to help, but now as he sees you crying but also trying to stop, he cups your shoulder before he wraps his arm around your shoulders and pulls you in against him so you can find some comfort in his embrace.

And you do. In your most vulnerable moment, you find comfort in your friend.

——

*SOMETIME LATER. SEATTLE*

“The Evergreen State, home of the Dodgers,” you break the silence as you come across a trail sign that gives two different directions; one that points to Arboretum and the Seattle Trail. You all follow the Seattle Trail, of course.

“No,” your uncle snorts. “Not even close. Mariners.”

“Oh.”

“Los Ángeles was home to the Dodgers.”

You rest your chin on your horse's head and become reminiscent. “Apollo watches old Re-runs of baseball games with his dad and brother. I can never get into them though. It’s the same games over and over again.”

“They could say the same thing about your movies,” your Uncle quips, making you loll your head to the side to look at him with a pointed glare.

“Yeah. I’ll let you have that old man,” you mutter. “Touché.”

You then continue to sigh and glance up at the tall green trees that almost touch the sky. Wyoming doesn’t have trees this tall, you wish there were because they’re so fascinating, but you’re also so terrifying in a sense. They’re like giants.

“I’ll give it to Washington. Their forests are beautiful,” you muse. “They’re so…green…” You trail off and glance at your two trusted companions, catching Jesse not even giving you the time of day, while your uncle rolls his eyes, making you smile faintly before you sit up. At that moment, catching the whiff of something completely foul.

The further you walk, the stronger that smell gets. It even burns your nose, but the smell is not strange. You all know it well and don’t take long to come across the violent scene in the middle of the dirt path.

You are only a few miles in, and you’re already coming across corpses of what were once living humans. Not infected. And it’s not just a couple; just past the thickness of some greenery is a group of them. All slaughtered and all seeming to be donning similar green coats that almost make them go unnoticed if their pale, lifeless face didn’t stand out against the dark dirt.

“Do these look like W.L.F? Could it have been them?” Jesse asks as he studies the violent scene to make sure that neither of the women you knew was amongst them.

“No,” you ease his worry. “These don’t look like W.L.F. They were ordinary clothes and,” you pause and look back at the body of the man you passed with a white painted symbol that was nothing like a wolf. This symbol is like…an eye? Or something astrological?

“…they didn’t have that symbol or use the same coat,” you let Jesse and your Uncle know. “But…these are too many to have been taken down by Dina and Ellie alone. Maybe it was W.L.F. That girl,” you avoid saying her name. “Did hint at Seattle being dangerous. Or something…so maybe this is a glimpse of it.”

Your Uncle hums before you hear him tighten his hands against his reign.

“Whatever it may be,” your uncle comments with his eyes narrowed ahead. “Let’s try not to get caught in the middle of it and hope Dina and Ellie are trying to do the same. Come on, it's better not to stop. Someone could be close.”

You steal one glance at the violent scene, and from what you can tell, they were all taken down by gunshots, and a lot of them died with melee weapons. No firearms.

Maybe they got taken after they died?

Whatever the case, you push away your curiosities and pay even closer attention to the tall trees, just in case there’s people hiding up there like when you were in Kansas.

Luckily, besides critters and birds, there’s nothing else that inhabits the trees, and after crossing a few miles, you find the freeway and thankfully leave the thick of the woods.

You are far more exposed now because you don’t have the cover of the trees, which is the downside, but at least you don’t have to be scared that there's people lurking up there.

Now all you have to worry about is if there’s people lurking around you, or if you’ve been accidentally spotted. So far, everything along the freeway is truly abandoned. There’s no sign of life or Infected, just Mother Earth consuming the manmade cars that were left on the freeway, and the manmade highway itself.

Eventually, you end up at the end of a bridge that either deteriorated or was blown up like the other major cities. Either way, you reach the high point and get the perfect view of the city, wondering instead of admiring what dangers such a beautiful city holds.

Ellie is somewhere inside there. In danger, hiding, close to Abby, or…hurt. You can’t think of the other alternative. It’s too grim and threatens to shove you back into that coma-like state.

“Listen,” your uncle interjects. “When we enter the city. We’ll take our separate ways. Sunny, you and Jesse stick together, and I’ll go off alone,” your uncle brings up without facing you because he knows he’ll see your disbelief and disagreement.

“No,” he blurts before you can cut in. “You cannot come with me,” he makes you shut up. “We’ll cover more ground this way, and I'd prefer it if Jesse didn’t go off alone. So yes, you have to stay with him.”

You huff and pout as you stare off at the nearby city.

“We’ll meet up again in the morning,” he continues and points to a spot on a map you found in an abandoned gas station just before you got into the city.

“What if you end up in danger? How are we supposed to find you then?” You argue either way and snap your head to pierce your glare into him. “The city is fucking huge. It’s better if we stick together! That girl said this place was dangerous!”

“And if we stick together, we won’t even cover a quarter of the city,” your uncle argues and finally faces you. “If we separate, we cover more ground, so I’m not arguin’ with you about it.”

You scowl and look away to grumble your defeated response. “Fine.”

“Take care of each other, and if you find the girls, throw them on your horses or tie them. Whatever it is, just bring them back. Okay?”

“Okay,” Jesse confirms that he understands what you need to do, making your uncle move his horse closer to you to pick on you now.

“We'll meet in the mornin’. I swear.”

You slowly look back at him as you hear his attempt to assure you and keep your frown plastered as you retort. “If not, I will come after ya. I’m not goin’ home without you. Together, remember?” You bring up since it seems appropriate now that you’re traveling on the road like the old days.

“How can I forget?” he says lightheartedly and flashes you a small smile. “Now let’s go. Let’s see each other off.”

Knowing he’s right, but not admitting it, you continue toward the city. Yet the only difference is when you come off the highway, you break apart like the old faded lanes that lead to different streets of what was once a buzzling city.

You and Jesse try to keep quiet as you roam the quiet streets, not because you still don’t have the energy to make conversation. After your heart-to-heart with Jesse, that wall you kept up has slowly come down, and you let your voice be heard more. You’re not just a quiet listener anymore; you join their conversations and tell them stories about everything and anything that comes to mind. Even of the past. Or at least the parts that didn’t stab your heart to recollect. So that’s not why you keep quiet.

You don’t want to draw unwanted attention. You’re already walking through the city on horses, so you don’t want to put yourselves at even more risk by talking.

“We should find somewhere to hide our horses,” you bring up. “We’re gonna stick out regardless, but this way it’ll be somewhat easier to blend in.”

“Yeah,” Jesse sighs as he keeps scanning the area without daring to miss an inch. “That’s smart. One of these buildings shall do it. It’ll help if we keep them close to our way out of the city, just in case we have to make some hasty escape.”

You nod and scan the area until a music store catches your eye.

“There!” You point out. “The windows are covered. Let’s keep ‘em there.”

You nudge your horse to walk faster to reach the store quicker as you feel an inkling of excitement seep through.

Nevertheless, and as expected, the doors are closed.

“I’ll find a way in,” Jesse volunteers. “Stay here.”

Without another choice, you agree and watch him disappear into an alley before you start to look over your shoulders, making sure that you don’t catch anything suspicious, and finding yourself find this silence more terrifying than any monster.

Alas, nothing comes out from any corner or any building. The ghost is clear, and it seems that Jesse comes across the same luck because he opens the doors rather quickly.

“Look at you,” you muse as you hop off your horse to lead yours and Jesse’s inside. “Good job.”

“Team Jackson!” He exclaims and puts his hand up to offer you a high five as you reach the doors.

“Yeah!” You giggle and let the reins go to give him a high five. “Team Jackson!”

“The store is clear and by the looks of it, it has grass growing in so they can eat that while we’re gone,” he says after you return to the horses and continue to lead them inside.

Once he closes the doors behind you and barricades the store again, you let the reins go and let yourself be in complete awe by the store.

“What richness,” you muse as you take in all the different kinds of music that's still left behind. “If only I had infinite space in my backpack. I’d take it all home, oh, and look!” You point out and run over to the folk section to snatch a Joan Baez album off the shelf. “My queen of Folk music, Joan Baez. My uncle said my mama loved her.” You smile at the album but also curse the fact that you can’t play it right now.

“If only we had room. All this music wouldn’t collect dust at Jackson,” Jesse says, thinking more selflessly, whereas all you think about is your collection. “I’m sure…people would love to hear some of that be played at a fall fair?” He asks as he tries to discreetly press you to rethink about your abandoned dream of having a fair at Jackson.

Lately, him and your uncle have been bringing up the idea, but that excitement and dream died with…your dad. You just let both men try to insist because you don’t want to be rude and turn them down. They can still have a fair, you just won’t be a part of it.

“Hm, maybe,” you say without that initial enthusiasm, and put the album down to start walking down the site with your fingers raising the dust off the music people forgot about.

“Let’s head out before we lose more time here,” you bring an end to all the excitement and return a sorrow that was such a constant companion in your group.

Once you collect the things you need and go back outside, the tension lingers until you speak up “Joan Baez has a song called ‘Jesse’. Fun fact.”

Said man glances over at you and probes. “Really?”

You glance at him, too, and nod. “Yep. When we get back home, listen to it. Maybe it’s not your thing, but it’s still cool. You can pretend she’s singing about you, considering your girl might have been stolen.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t get hurt or bothered by your comment.

“Maybe you are right,” he mutters. “After this. Maybe I’ll take your advice about officially cutting things off.”

You pat his shoulder. “Yeah, I would like that for you. You’re young, take advantage of that and explore your options. Or don’t. Up to you. Maybe you’ll meet someone here. Won’t that be romantic?” You tease, making him crack a smile.

“I guess I’ll see. Maybe this trip has changed Dina. Maybe we can work things out,” he says, and as to not take sides, you give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Yeah. Maybe. We’ll have to find her to know. Hopefully they’re okay,” you trail off into a whisper.

“I’m sure they will be,” he tries to assure him and you. “They’re smart and work well together.”

You hum in agreement, and as you scan the area as you turn the corner, you think about Ellie and hope with every fiber of your body that she’s okay. You can’t…imagine her not being okay. The thought, it…utterly terrifies you and threatens to send you down that dark cycle again…

That’s why you hang onto Jesse’s attempt at reassuring you as you wander the streets of Seattle, trying to go undetected by the threats that make this city so dangerous.

However, just as you note how calm and quiet it’s all been, Abby’s warning starts to come into fruition as out of hiding, canisters hit the ground.

Jesse and you catch where the canisters land and notice that they’re smoke screens, but no matter how fast you react, you can’t avoid them. They go off, and your ears begin to ring, while your eyes begin to sting because of the thick clouds of smoke, and your lungs get polluted by the same poison, leaving you dazed and desperate to find Jesse.

He was next to you, he can’t be far.

“Jesse?!” You call out between coughs and pull out your gun as you begin to walk in the direction he was just in before the smoke broke you apart.

“Jesse?!”

Seconds later, your name is shouted back, and the smoke begins to clear from the air and your body by the second, so you’re less dazed, but you still can’t see him. Or anything else for that matter. You can only hear different footsteps all around you.

“Jesse!”

“Here,” a stranger speaks up for the man you’re looking for and comes out of the smoke with a mask and gun.

In response, you point yours at your head, but then, from behind you, before you can shoot, something cold and hard hits the back of your head, leading to a void of darkness.

A/N- some game scenes are you excited??

Tagged- @slut-f0r-u @star-wars-lover @maplecohen @givemylovetoall @itzagothamcitysiren @sammy-13 @beloved-reblogger @emiriia @rues-daya @sunfairyy @littleshadow17 @mcu-starwars @bigtuffswordboy @riaqiax @dheet @queenofthekill @joliettes @d4rno @hardbeingcasual @rana030 @pedropascalluvr41 @ahoyyharrington @beaniebeensbaby201 @maeneedsabreak @maelartasch @adristyles @daughterofthequeen @alastorhazbin @sunsumonner @khaylin27 @hypatia93 @hummusxx @v4mpyk1tten @1donoow @your-shifting-gurl @g4ns3y @izzzzy-the-amazing @aphr0d1teh @lovelyygirl8 @ivy-taylorsversion @mmkkzz @avitute @fuckmebobboys @kitdjarin1 @barnes70stark

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oftenwantedafton · 2 days ago

Text

the assistant | william afton x f!reader x dave miller

chapter three

Explicit content, 3.4k words, new 5/16/25

ao3 link

You arrive at the restaurant a full two hours early that evening.

There’s no way you’re going to be late three nights in a row. You’re not going to give William Afton any ammunition this shift. By the time you pull into the parking lot, buoyed by a newfound determination and resolve, you slide the key confidently into the lock and push the door open, feeling ready to take on whatever the owner decides to dish out.

You don’t expect to see Dave Miller standing there, leaning back against the wall with his hands tucked into his pockets, awaiting your arrival.

“Why are you here so early?”

“I could ask you the same question.”

The door clicks shut behind you, reminding you that it needs to be locked.

“I don’t want to get in trouble again. What’s your excuse?”

The security guard shakes his head, dismissing your question and asking one of his own. “Are you alright?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Are you certain? You were very upset this morning.”

“I was,” you concede. “I let him get under my skin, and I shouldn’t have. I know better. I think I was just overtired. Hungry. You know how it is.”

Dave doesn’t look entirely convinced, but his expression clears. “I have a surprise for you.”

“Oh, no. Not again. Listen, if this is another prank—”

“—No, this is a good surprise,” he hastily attempts to reassure you. “Helpy, come here.”

A soft metallic tapping sound echoes from around the corner, the creator of that tred soon revealing itself as a small animatronic bear no larger than a child’s stuffed toy with buck teeth and rosy cheeks.

“Where did it come from?”

“I told you, I found it in Deep Storage.”

“I’ve never seen one so little. How do you know its name? How did you even activate it?”

“It’s stamped on one foot. I read the name aloud and it switched on automatically.”

The white bear comes to a halt somewhere between the two of you, its violet eyelids clicking downward in a simulation of blinking before it stretches its small arms upward, reminding you of a toddler asking to be lifted up.

“It’s heavier than it looks,” he says, leaning down to tuck his hands beneath the bear’s arms. He shifts his grip until the bear is facing you, its short legs dangling in the air, that permanently cheerful, almost goofy expression regarding you.

“It’s cute.” You reach out to boop the shiny black button nose, earning another blink. “But Dave, I don’t think you should be rifling through things in storage. Especially not after what happened earlier,” you add, your expression darkening.

He sets the bear back down, then straightens. “I promise I won’t go back into Parts and Service.”

“I don’t think that’s going to be enough to satisfy Mr. Afton. He doesn’t want me speaking to you at all.”

“Why? Am I such a bad influence?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other. “He certainly seems to think so.”

“What do you think?”

“I don’t know, Dave. I don’t know what you want from me.”

“I want us to be friends.”

“Friends?”

“Yes. Pals. Chums, even.”

“I know what friends means,” you mumble, noticing the teasing lift at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. We should just stay focused on our respective positions.” You feel something tugging on your pants leg and glance down to see the miniature animatronic trying to get your attention.

“It likes you.”

“According to you, everyone around here does,” you mutter, your expression softening at the sight of the little bear. The thing was absurdly cute. Why had it been shoved on a shelf? “Anyway, animatronics don’t have feelings. It’s just part of its programming to mimic human emotions.”

Occupied with bending to offer a little pat to the top hat crowning the small figure, you don’t miss the sharp look the man offers you.

“What are you going to do until he arrives? Just sit and wait for him?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” You straighten. “I brought something to read to keep me busy and pass the time.”

This information is met with another dubious scowl. “If that’s really what you want to do.”

“Yes.” You turn around to secure the lock, then begin walking down the hallway, immediately hearing another set of footsteps follow your own. “No, Helpy. You can’t come with me. Stay with Dave.”

The bear jerks to a halt, then turns halfway around, clearly struggling to decide which direction to go in.

“Just programming, hmm?” The guard murmurs.

“Maybe that’s why it was on the shelf. Maybe that’s what’s wrong with it.”

“Maybe there’s nothing wrong it at all.”

You pause, your gaze meeting Dave’s. “There has to be a reason why it was there. When you’re done, put it back.”

“It deserves a better fate than collecting dust.”

“That’s not up to you to decide.” The animatronic turns fully in your direction, taking a step closer. “No, Helpy. Stay with Dave. Go on.”

A slow blink. It begins to turn back towards the guard, then faces you once more. You wonder what must be going through the robot’s central processing unit, the conflicting inputs from two directing agencies confusing it. It reminds you most strongly of a child trying to decide between two parents.

“Call it back to you.”

Dave’s gaze is flinty, his lips pressed in a thin line. For a moment you think he’s going to refuse, but then he barks out the command and Helpy obeys without further hesitation, returning to its rescuer’s side.

“Don’t forget what I said. It has to go back.” You resume walking towards the workroom, feeling the weight of the other employee’s stare the entire way.

***

You’re halfway through your novel by the time William Afton arrives, a low chuckle instantly setting your teeth on edge as he approaches the workstation.

“So now you’re early. Is the concept of time so elusive?”

Don’t feed into it. Don’t give him the satisfaction. “I don’t expect overtime. I just wanted to be sure to arrive at a decent hour.” You shut your book and tuck it back into your bag, nudging it further back under the desk with your foot.

“Of course you won’t be paid extra.” He still hasn’t sat down yet and you begin to worry. You hope he doesn’t know about Helpy. He can’t possibly, right?

“Well, I’m certainly not going to sit around and entertain you. We’re going to start now. Help me lift this,” he snaps, striding over to the final piece of the animatronic design that you haven’t had access to yet. It currently rests on the floor, a torso that’s propped up against the wall.

You bend to assist William, heaving the body part onto the nearby table. It isn’t long before the outermost panel concealing the interior of the chest cavity is wide open and your hands are buried deep inside while your boss issues a string of commands. You still feel tense and stiff, trying to prepare yourself for whatever insult or accusation might be flung your way, but the disparaging remarks have mercifully been kept to a minimum thus far.

Of course, you’ve been down this road before. Quite recently, in fact. So you aren’t quite as willing to let your guard down as the minutes pass into hours. The man’s mood can and likely will shift at any given moment. For now, you’re just going to keep silent and get your work done.

A state that hasn’t gone unnoticed. “You’re quiet this evening,” he observes at one point as he holds a series of cables out of the way so you can access an interior compartment housing a speaker.

You’re not taking that bait. No, Sir. “Concentrating,” you reply, unscrewing the final bolt securing the lid.

“Yet you were so…inquisitive earlier.”

God, he was so antagonistic. You’re beginning to wonder if you hadn’t hallucinated those previous moments when he’d seemed halfway decent. Maybe you’d just been blinded by a little hero worship. The guy is a complete asshole, plain and simple, genius or not.

“Trying to do better,” you mumble, carefully lifting the metal square out of the way.

“If that’s the case, then why have you accessed the wrong compartment?”

You freeze, your fingers hovering just above the open panel as he releases his taut hold on the steel wrapped cords. They snap back into place, slapping against your skin and stinging you. You jerk back, cradling your hand. There are red welts visible, but you don’t see any other damage.

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was waiting to see if you’d realize your error. You didn’t. Not a good start to the shift,” he murmurs. “Perhaps you don’t have the instincts I thought you had. Let me see your hand.”

“It’s fine.”

“I said let me see it,” he repeats tightly.

You reluctantly hold out your hand and he clutches your wrist, rotating your hand back and forth to view it from different angles. “Nothing permanent. Not like my own scars.”

He wants to compete over who has the worst injuries now?

“You’ve never seen them, have you?”

You shake your head, wondering why he’s asking. Of course he knows you haven’t.

“Would you like to?”

He still hasn’t released your wrist. The fingers of his other hand are tracing the inflamed, puffy lines running like veins across yours.

“That’s okay,” you reply hastily. “I respect your privacy.”

“Since when? You were only too eager to paw through my things earlier.”

“That wasn’t me,” you protest. “Dave did that before I even got here.”

“If you had gotten here on time, he wouldn’t have had the opportunity.”

“So I’m supposed to supervise him now? If you had been here on time, this wouldn’t even be an issue.” The words escape your mouth before you can think better of them and you immediately gasp.

“There it is,” he murmurs, sounding oddly pleased. “Your attempt at contrition was paper thin. You’re still upset.”

“No,” you deny.

He releases your wrist, clutching onto the jacket sleeve covering his own as he begins wriggling out of the deep purple garment. You stare as the cuff of his shirtsleeve is unfastened and rolled back, the white material shifting to reveal a forearm covered in reddish marks.

“This is the cost of arrogance. Of distraction. Even the briefest lapse in judgment can spell destruction in this field.”

You swallow and nod.

“Get your head back in the game.”

“O…Okay,” you stammer, your eyes still glued to the strangely patterned scars decorating your boss’s skin.

“I mean it. I need your complete attention. There is no room for distractions of any kind. Any kind,” he emphasizes. You finally tear your gaze away from the ruined flesh to find his eyes darkening, the pupils dilating.

“I understand,” you manage to croak out.

“Do you?” He asks softly. “I’m not certain of that.” You feel his fingers on your injured hand again, probing and prodding, eliciting a faint groan of discomfort. You bite your lip to stifle any further sound. The touch gentles, evolving into a caress that nearly forces a new, more pleased sound from your lips, but you hold fast to your resolve. You won’t break, no matter how hard he pushes; no matter how tenderly he touches, leaning ever closer, regarding you with those hypnotic eyes full of desire.

William abruptly eases back in his chair, abandoning your appendage and working on unrolling his shirt sleeve. You feel the sudden absence of his body heat sharply, simultaneously silently reprimanding yourself for lamenting its departure. You shouldn’t be enjoying it.

“Ice should be applied to that. There’s a coffee shop with a twenty four hour drive thru down the street that can supply it. I’ll give you fifteen minutes for this errand.”

Seriously? A break? Other than a hastily gulped meal or snack—far away from the animatronics, of course, lest you drop some offending crumb or spill some harmful liquid on any of his precious components—the man never allowed you to rest during your shift.

“The clock is ticking. I suggest you get moving,” he adds, retrieving his jacket and folding it neatly over the back of his seat.

You scramble to your feet, digging your car keys and wallet out of your bag before dashing from the workroom.

***

Rain surprises you on the return trip to the pizzeria.

The rare, torrential downpour in an otherwise typically arid climate had just appeared out of nowhere. The windshield wipers of your car can barely keep up with it, squeaking loudly as they scrape over the glass. You curse yourself for not remembering to grab your jacket in your rush out of the workroom. You’re going to be absolutely soaked on the trip back, and you’re fairly certain William isn’t going to appreciate you dripping all over his workspace.

Still, it can’t be helped. It’s not like anyone could have predicted this weather. You park your car and take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the sky’s onslaught as you hurry to the door, key already in hand. There are puddles in the parking lot, forming in the crumbling asphalt, the water seeping into your sneakers as you sprint.

The door suddenly opens to reveal Dave Miller waiting just inside.

“Thanks,” you pant, eagerly entering the building to escape the deluge.

“Unusual weather,” he remarks.

“Yeah, tell me about it.” You tuck your keys into a pants pocket and swipe at your damp clothing, grimacing.

“Unusual for you to leave during your shift as well.”

“I ran to get some ice.” Seeing the guard’s puzzled look, you hold up your hand for a faster explanation.

“What happened?”

“Made a mistake during repairs. It was my own fault. It feels better already.”

The dark haired man frowns dissaprovingly. “Was it really your fault?”

“Yeah, sure.” You wave the injured hand in the air, then your voice lowers conspiratorially. “Did you put our friend back where it belongs?”

“Yes.”

“Great. Well, I have to get back. I’ve only got a few minutes left. Stupid rain.”

“Are you sure everything’s alright?”

“Yes, I’m sure.” You realize you haven’t seen Dave’s trademark too-wide grin at all yet this evening. “Relax. I’m fine. Promise. I’ll see you later. Thanks again for getting the door. Oh, and don’t forget to—”

“—Got it,” he replies, securing the lock.

“Okay. Bye.” You feel bad about rushing off, but you’re running out of time.

***

You make it back to Parts and Service with a minute to spare.

You can’t tell if William is pleased or not with your compliance. He’s certainly not pleased with your appearance, frowning as your sodden form enters the room.

“Why are you soaking wet?”

“It’s raining out.”

“Raining,” he repeats.

“Yeah. Pouring. Like, torrentially.”

A strange expression flits briefly across his features, then it’s gone. “I have a spare set of clothing in my office. It will be too large for you of course, but, at least it’s dry.”

“That would be great, thank you.”

The surprise over this sudden display of generosity clearly shows on your face and he hastens to add, “You’re of no use to me if you catch a cold.”

“Okay. Thanks again.” You swipe at a droplet that’s leaked from your forehead and slipped down your nose.

“I’ll be right back.”

You nod, waiting by the doorway for him to return. When he does, handing you a hanger with a button front shirt, pair of dress slacks and a belt slung neatly through it, you can’t help but notice a slight bulge in the normally empty breast pocket of his pinstriped vest. It wasn’t just the clothes he was retrieving, apparently.

“You can get changed in the employee restroom.”

It’s a relief to finally peel off your damp shirt and sodden pants several minutes later, slipping into William’s loaned top first. As expected it’s loose fitting, baggy everywhere except across the chest, where your breasts helped to fill that space. The pants similarly are roomy in your lower legs and extend far past your feet, forcing you to cuff them before you examine the fit higher up. An odd combination of loose and snug, the garment trying to accommodate the curve of your hips and the swell of your buttocks. Well, whatever. It’s not like you’re at a fashion show. The shirt tail is going to cover most of that anyway.

You quickly try to dry some of your hair out, ducking beneath the hot air vent and slapping the button a few times to renew the burst of air before deciding you’ve delayed long enough. You don’t think your mentor’s good graces can extend much further.

***

Cigarettes.

That’s what William had retrieved from his office. One is slotted between his lips when you return to the workroom, a lazy trail of smoke rising from the end.

He pinches the lit item between his index and middle fingers, extracting it from his mouth and sending a more serious plume upward as his gaze sweeps over you. “What?”

“Nothing, I just…I didn’t know you smoked.”

“On occasion.” He taps the ashes out into what looks suspiciously like the jaw of an animatronic you’d replaced the other night.

“It’s not…I don’t know, bad for these?” You wave a hand around the room.

He laughs, a sound that is genuinely amused, lacking its customary mockery. “No. I don’t think one cigarette will do any significant harm. At least, that’s what I always tell myself.” He takes another drag. “The clothes fit you better than I expected.”

You’re not sure if that’s meant to be a compliment or not, so you merely shrug and nod.

He glances at his wristwatch. “This evening is turning into a rather large waste of time, isn’t it?”

An apology automatically begins to form on your lips but you quickly stifle it. That’s one lesson that’s been hammered home.

William grins around the cigarette. “Or perhaps not.”

***

Once again you find the security guard waiting for you by the exit.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know.” You’re dressed in your own clothing once again. It’s still damp. You’re eager for a warm bath and a hot meal before bed.

“How was it?”

“It was okay. Honestly. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. He was actually kind of pleasant.”

“It’s the weather.”

“Oh? Does it remind him of England or something, you think?” You adjust your backpack on your shoulder.

“No. I don’t think that’s the reason at all.”

You wait for him to elaborate but he doesn’t, merely pushing open the door so you both can view the status of the downpour. It doesn’t seem to have let up any.

“Damn. I was kind of hoping it would have slowed down, at least. Oh well. I’m leaving now. You ever get to leave on time, Dave?”

He remains silent, watching the splash of water just beyond the threshold. “No.”

“That must be some serious overtime on your paycheck, then.” You nudge his arm playfully and his eyes slide to meet yours.

“I’m going to walk you to your car.”

“In this? Don’t be silly. You’ll get drenched.” You flip the hood of your jacket up, your smile evaporating when you realize how serious he is. “What’s going on with you, Dave?”

“Come on.” He takes a step forward, a little hiss of sound escaping when the first pelts of rain soak through his uniform. He holds out his hand and you slowly accept it, allowing him to pull you forward with a squeak when you’re similarly doused. You race to your car, cursing yourself for not getting your keys ready ahead of time, unslinging your backpack and hurriedly digging around in the outside compartment.

“You shouldn’t have come. I told you you’d get…” Your voice trails off as you pull your keys free, your face lifting to see Dave’s tilted back, letting the rain pour over his features. There’s an almost rapturous look there that makes you pause, staring at this display in utter confusion.

A different sort of smile than the ones you’ve previously seen adorns his lips when his face tips to regard you, a soft, secret sort of grin as the water spills over his nose and cheeks and lips, his hair plastered to his forehead.

“I know. You want to go home. I don’t blame you. I wouldn’t mind going there myself.” He tugs your hood a little further over your head to better shield you.

“Maybe…” The word hangs in the air between you. Maybe what? You’re not even sure. Maybe you’ll invite him over one day? Maybe you’ll be friends after all?

“Maybe,” he agrees, then turns and heads back towards the building.

#william afton x reader #william afton x you #dave miller x you #dave miller x reader #divider @greatclassic989

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fernsproutxx · 4 months ago

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just a moment ago realized that i fucked up by being very rude to a friend on accident and he proceeded to just stare at me in silence like bro maintaining eye contact isn’t gonna make it better i KNOW what i did was wrong but now you’re just making me feel overwhelmingly uncomfortable and less likely for me to address you and apologize

and also like fuck off because he’s stated multiple times that he doesn’t even care about apologies because he doesn’t forgive and never forgets bruh then why would i even bother in the first place if he’s just gonna be a bitch about it

“i want an apology but i don’t really care about it because you were rude and i will always remind you of it” okay girl fuck you stay upset hope your day gets worse like actually lmfao

i mean i genuinely get the sentiment of wanting others to feel an ounce of your own hurt but even i know that’s just plain toxicity and i don’t know about him but personally i’m trying to break off that bullshit habit

he’s not beating the walking red flag allegations fr ugh

#blah blah text post #sorry for the vent #but god sometimes these interactions can be very infuriating #yes man i know i was wrong #yes man i apologize #but the way you’re setting things up just seems to me like you’re just trying to drag everyone else down

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fingertipsmp3 · 11 months ago

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There are two wolves inside me. One is trying to convince me to do extensive research for the job interview tomorrow and the other is saying “wing it”

#there’s yet another that’s saying ‘cancel it’ but no i want to do this #i’m just sick of working from home. it has made me realise that i have zero ability to self-motivate myself or to set up a schedule #and stick to it #(case in point: i’m on here at 10:19 on a thursday morning instead of working)#thank god i don’t have concrete deadlines to stick to because i would’ve failed all of them and gotten fired #anyway. to be honest i don’t know how much research i NEED to do? like i don’t know what they’re going to ask me #it’s either going to be a super informal interview where they basically have already made up their minds to hire me if i seem credible #or it’s going to be a long drawn-out process of structured interview questions and ‘tell me about a time you went above and beyond at work’#which… is a GARBAGE question i’m sorry. above and beyond??? girl i earned minumum fucking wage at my last job #i’ll go above and beyond when you pay me more than the bare fucking minimum. £12 an hour?? you’re lucky i showed up and didn’t steal stuff #i think my ‘research’ is just going to be making shit up to be honest #i have figured out where this place is geographically. i have looked at the website (which mostly just had pictures of a big pool)#i want to look at coshh guidelines and shit again and i want to make up some stories about me being an exemplary employee #because i know that just having been slightly above average is not enough. i’ve been slightly above average at most things my whole life #and it’s never enough #tbh i might just print out the job description and highlight the parts i already fit (so i know to talk about that in the interview)#and then find ways to make it look like i COULD fit the parts i don’t fit. or could learn to do so #i don’t want to doooooo this i hate job interviews. i hate bureaucracy #i hate having to beg for a job from companies that should be begging people to work for them #considering the fucking insane amount of duties they want to give you for fucking minimum wage. but anyway #if you need me i’m going to fight with my printer. it’s trying its best but ‘its best’ is not good #personal

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mostly-imagines · 8 months ago

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La Vie en Rose

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason wildly preferring you over everyone else

4 in 1 blurbs

warnings: standard batfam arguing etc.

You sit curled up embarrassingly close to Jason on the couch, head on his shoulder. The team is still in their gear as they filter into the living room, masks and helmets discarded in scattered locations between here and the cave. The mission had been fairly simple and with all of them together it only took a couple hours to finish up.

As you waited, Alfred had kept your mind busy in the kitchen while he taught you how he makes his famous ice cream from scratch.

The clamor of the heroic party’s return had made itself known sooner than later, and you think your face must have displayed your emotions nicely because Alfred nodded you away with a small smile and no second thought.

You’d walked into the living room, weaving through the mess of siblings until a hand snuck out on your left and grabbed your wrist. You barely had time to look at him before Jason pulled you down to sit next him on the sofa. He wrapped an arm over your shoulder, pulling you in and leaving virtually no space between you. His armor sits heavy against you, but a welcome weight on your shoulders.

Tim plops down on the couch across from you and you can just make out a bit of blood on the side of his head, aptly accompanied by an irritated look sprawled across his face. It’s not enough blood to be concerned about—not for them—but you can venture a guess that whatever they were up to shouldn’t have called for any injuries and his pique is likely directly related to that.

Though Dick’s goading aura might have something to do with it too, as he comes crashing down next to him a second later, partially sitting on Tim’s cape and pulling him into an awkward angle.

Nightwing doesn’t seem too perturbed by the younger vigilante’s agitation and curt manner of pushing him off.

The others are too caught up in chatter to pay much attention to you, and you can be certain that’s why Jason takes that moment to press a kiss to the side of your head. He lets his lips linger there for just a second as you lean into him.

Alfred’s own entrance is the only thing able to subside the flurry of conversations skirting around the room.

“A job well done,” he commends with a nod. “A selection of ice creams awaits you in the kitchen.”

He gives you a sly wink before retreating back through the swinging door, leaving Stephanie and Cass to practically trip over themselves trying to beat each other to the kitchen. Robin follows after unhurried, mask still on, with his hands behind his back.

Jason kneads your thigh before pushing himself up to stand. He turns back, looking down to you. “What do you want?” he asks softly.

You hum, "Just strawberry's good."

Tim sits up, "Can I—”

"No, you've got legs,” Jason grumbles, stalking off to the kitchen.

Dick barks out a laugh and you bite back a smile.

Tim looks absolutely aghast.

“That’s such bullshit. You know, he used to be nice.”

“No he didn’t,” Dick laughs, shaking his head. “Not since you’ve known him.”

Stephanie stumbles out of the kitchen then, the door hitting her back on the way, as she mutters a curse behind her. You can vaguely makeout Jason grunting something back before she rolls her eyes.

Steph looks at you, shaking her head as she returns to her seat, “You live like this?”

You shrug, “He’s nice to me.”

“Yeah, I bet,” Tim grumbles.

Jason returns after Cass a minute later with a bowl of strawberry ice cream and two spoons. He expertly ignores Tim’s unwavering glare as he resituates himself beside you.

He scoops your legs up over his lap and positions the bowl in between you, wrapping the sleeve of his jacket around it so that the cold porcelain doesn’t make contact with your skin.

The others have set themselves up so that the four of them are stuffed up against each other on the sofa adjacent to you, very obviously examining you both.

And while you’re willing to acknowledge the amused stares and singular glare, Jason only sighs heavily, rolling his eyes as he glares at the coffee table.

Only a few seconds of this are allowed to go by before he pulls over a throw pillow and sets it over your knees, so that it rests atop your heads like a mini-fort, successfully blocking out his siblings' view of the two of you.

You smile and press a light kiss to his shoulder as he simmers.

Regrettably, you miss the way Damian side-eyes the pillow above you as he re-enters the room, perching himself atop the back of the couch behind the others.

“This is so nice,” Dick preens. “He used to just leave the room when too many of us gathered in one place. Now he has to stay.”

Stephanie watches the makeshift fort with wary eyes, scooping ice cream into her mouth. “Yeah…I don’t wanna freak you guys out but, uh…”

It’s quiet for a moment and you guess Cass is speaking.

You’re proven right when Stephanie starts up again, “My thoughts exactly.” Her voice drops into a raspy whisper that isn’t really meant to go unheard, “I don’t know who the hell that is, but it is not Jason.”

“This is unprecedented,” Damian mumbles, dipping into his own chocolate cup.

“Do they always talk about you like you’re not here?” you ask Jason quietly.

“Yes,” he grumbles with a scornful look directed at the bowl.

A low hiss can be heard immediately after, “I’ve never heard him whisper before, what the fuck?”

You can’t hide your laugh as well as you mean to, but you know Jason’s light swat to your thigh is nothing more than a rib.

Mumbles continue along the other couch, mostly going unacknowledged, until Tim busts out, “He doesn’t even like strawberry!”

Jason snaps the pillow out of the way, “The fuck do you know about what I like?”

Tim resets his posture with one hell of an attitude, snarking, “Well I can name one thing you really seem to fucking—”

Jason grabs the pillow harshly and chucks it at Tims head which connects with a loud thwack.

Damian swats it away before it can knock him off balance, though his scowl is only half worth what Tim’s is.

“You’re unbelievable,” he says with a sneer. “This is why you don’t get invited to movie night anymore.”

Jason doubles back at him, “Sorry, is this not your own fucking house?”

Tim huffs, “Yes, which i—”

“Then get your own goddamn ice cream!”

Tim huffs as he stands, sending Jason a pointed look. “I’m going because I want to.”

Jason barely gives him a sardonic nod as he stomps off.

“Get me some too!” Dick calls back, only for the back of his head to be met with a sideways grimace from Tim.

As he leaves, the focus of the room seems to shift towards Damian dripping chocolate onto his cape and it fades away from there.

You turn to Jason, lowering your voice to just below a whisper, “If you don’t like strawberry—”

“I like it,” he tells you, leaving no room to argue as he takes a bite.

Voicemail.

Declined.

Voicemail.

Declined.

“I swear to God, he better be dead,” Stephanie mutters to herself.

She shuts her phone off and tosses it into the passenger seat with a huff. Her fingers drum against the steering wheel as she scans the sidewalk across from her car.

The night before the majority of the team had been involved in a less-than-successful plan, which some have called “a display of complete idiocy and inability to circumspect.”

Then Tim had to go and make a joke about that word choice in what was apparently a bad moment. This gave way to a harsher punishment of the team being forced to clean the batcave foot by square foot—notably, an impossible task.

So naturally, they had to retaliate.

The plan was to dismantle the batmobile piece by piece and leave it a collection of parts for Bruce to find. Problem being, the group as it stood didn’t possess the capability to do so without doing a great deal of damage to the parts. Damage, that the family was not willing to face extra retribution for.

Fortunately, they knew just the man for the job.

Unfortunately, said man has devoted his life to ignoring their messages, favoring to live peacefully and distantly from them. And because that peace and distance does come with an add-on of borderline complete secrecy from his family, no one had any idea where to look for him.

So, Stephanie decided to do the next most rational thing and track down your location. She’d hoped he would be with you like he always is, but for seemingly the first time in the last year—he’s nowhere to be found.

Now, was revenge for a minor-slight by Bruce so important that it required Stephanie to take all of these steps to get a hold of Jason? No, absolutely not. She’s pretty sure that the others have already given up on it by now and started cleaning. But it’s about the principal. And also, she does not want to clean the floors of a cave.

She jumps up in her seat when she spots you exiting a store, scurrying to unbuckle and pry the car door open.

She’s across the street in half a second, running directly into your line of sight. It actually would’ve been very difficult for her to miss your line of sight, considering she’d landed only a good six inches in front of your face. “Hey!”

“Oh, fuck—” you jump, grabbing your chest. You take a breath when you realize who it is, less surprised now by the theatrics of the introduction. “Hey Steph.”

“Hey,” she smiles casually, like she didn’t do what she just did. “So Jason’s been ignoring us and I need to get a hold of him,” she tells you.

You nod, still collecting yourself. “Oh. I don’t know where he is—”

She shakes her head, “That’s fine. Can I use your phone to call him?”

You frown, “Is something wrong?”

“With him, yeah,” she snarks. “I called him, Tim called him, Dick called him, Cass called him, Damian called him, we used Bruce’s phone to call him—that was a bit of a long shot, but still. This is our last option. Well, not our last option, if this doesn’t work I could get really invasive, but—” She shakes the thought from her head, “Nevermind.”

You nod blankly, taking in the mountain of information she’d just handed you. “How’d you know I was here?”

She scans your eyes back and forth for a second before her own widen in realization and she’s shaking her head. “No, no, don’t worry we’re not tracking you! I just hacked into the traffic cameras to find you.”

“Oh!” you exclaim, nodding some more. “Okay.”

You hand her your phone without any further questions—for your own sake—and she happily accepts.

“You know I texted him 115 times?” she tells you as she scrolls through your contacts.

You furrow your eyebrows, watching her click his name and press the phone to her ear. “Did you count?”

“Well, I had the time, di—you son of a bitch! One ring?” Stephanie scorns into the phone.

You can hear Jason groan on the other end of the line.

He says something to Stephanie that she follows up with a firm shake of her head.

“No,” she says defiantly. “She let me use it.”

Stephanie rolls her eyes, not pleased with his response. “What if it was an emergency?”

She listens for a second, skeptical look on her face.

She gasps suddenly, “I am not overstepping, we thought you were dead!”

Over the course of about ten seconds the shock on her face drops into just-been-caught guilt. “Well, I mean we considered it.”

You imagine Jason’s telling her to give you your phone back as she stands her ground, pushing, “If you promise to text me back.”

A short response on his end.

“Promise to text me back!”

There’s a brief lull before she’s giving a self-satisfied nod and jostling your phone back into your hands. “Here ya go. Thanks, babe!” She smiles wide at you before jogging back across the street, not waiting for the cars.

You smile as you watch her go, putting the phone up to your ear, “Hey Jay.”

You can hear the relief on the other end of the line. “Hey sweetheart. You know if you see Steph in public, you can just walk away?”

“I’m not going to walk away from your family.” You look again across the street, “Also I don’t think that was an option for me this time.”

“That thing is fucking scary.”

Cass smiles fondly, signing, “I think he’s cute.”

Tim eyes the way Salem traipses around his feet, yellow eyes staring up at him. “Why’s it even here?”

Jason rolls his eyes, continuing to scroll on his phone. “He’s hers. Deal with it.”

Tim scrunches up his mouth. “She knows I hate it. And she, unlike you, wouldn’t subject me to this just for the hell of it. So again I ask: why is it here?”

Jason huffs, looking up from his phone. “What do you want me to say? He wants to be.”

Tim scoffs at that, “‘It wants to be’? You’re the one who put it in the car.”

“No, I didn’t,” Jason says factually.

Tim looks at him sideways as Salem leaps onto Jason’s lap and nudges his hand up. Jason follows along as requested, petting the top of Salem’s head with an open palm.

Tim squirms to the other side of the couch with a look of disgust on his face. Salem watches him the whole time.

A smile adorns Cass’ face as she signs, “She says he can read people’s energy.”

Tim huffs, resting his head against his fist. “What does that even mean?”

The conversation is cut off by the clatter of you and Dick stumbling into the room, carrying a freshly painted headboard. Blue paint coats both of your hands and has no doubt stained your clothes.

You’re clearly struggling a bit to keep your grip on your end, the weight of the wooden frame dragging your arms down.

Jason stands and Salem flows along with his movements easily, leaping down onto the hardwood. He comes over and helps you lift your end of the frame with a stupid amount of ease, to the point that you’re not even holding any of the weight up anymore. The three of you—less so you—move the headboard and lean it up against the wall. After it's set down Jason steps back and looks over it gingerly.

“It looks good,” he murmurs to you, quiet enough to not give his brother the satisfaction of his approval.

Dick had asked you over to help him paint Damian’s bed frame as a surprise for him for not getting in any “altercations” at school this semester. You’d decided on coating it with his favorite color first and then fill it in with a collection of what Dick has “on good authority” are his favorite animals. It’s a fairly random assortment that you’re not sure adds to or disproves Dick’s credibility. You’d spent the better half of the afternoon googling animals you’d never heard of just to make sure you projected their likenesses accurately. Dick had been very clear that you had to be precise on the details because Damian would know if he was really looking at a komodo dragon painting or if it was “some common lizard.”

You sigh, “I hope he likes it. I’m worried we did it too childish for him.”

“He is a child,” Jason says plainly.

“But he is not childish,” you counter. And he sure isn’t. You’d had a hard enough time convincing Damian to watch cartoons, adding a colorful animal mural to his bedroom might be one step too far. You’re still trying to figure him out.

“He’ll like it,” he says firmly.

You smile, slipping around under his arm and tucking yourself into his side.

Not a moment later, Dick slings an arm around Jason's shoulder, grinning as he pulls his brother in close.

Jason’s immediately louring. "No, get away from me."

Dick, unfazed and still smiling, removes his arm and takes a big step to the right. You do the same, figuring he needs his space, but you get caught by the wrist before you can do more than sway to the side.

“Not you.”

He pulls you back under his arm, wrapping it around the front of your shoulders. You hook your fingers around his forearm, letting your hand hang.

You hear a double-clap from the other side of the room that has you both turning around to face Cass.

She signs something to Jason with a fond smile on her face.

You look back and forth between them as Jason waves her off. “What?”

He shakes his head, “It’s nothing. She said—she said we’re cute.”

You smile up at him and he deflects—not so subtly—and starts nudging you back towards where the group is gathered, now all standing.

Dick’s quick to start bragging off to the room about how great of a job the two of you did and how really complex and daunting it actually is painting animals for a child.

As he talks, your eyes find Jason, who’s definitely about to roll his eyes any second now. A bit subconsciously, your hand comes up to brush Jason’s white streak of hair back, away from tickling his forehead.

On the other side of Jason, Tim does the same, sweeping Jason’s hair back in a much more mocking manner.

This gives way to Jason smacking his hand away, harder than he needed to.

"Wha—You let her do it!" Tim protests, overplaying how much the slap hurt.

Jason scowls, "She can do whatever she wants."

Tim drops his shoulders, looking at Jason as if he’d been scandalized. “Oh but I can’t?”

“Not if it involves touching me,” Jason grumbles.

Tim steps closer, putting a finger to Jason’s chest. “You’re such a—”

From the floor, Salem hisses up at Tim, successfully startling the teenager. “Auahh—”

He stumbles backwards, grimacing at the cat.

“Fucking demon,” he hisses, walking away.

When Tim’s far enough away and Salem’s seemingly satisfied, he brushes up against your leg, purring.

You peer down at him with a furrowed brow.

“What’s Salem doing here?”

“I’m not doing this shit with you.”

“No, come on, 9 out of 10 times is what you said. How ‘bout just once? Beat me one time at anything, Jaybird.”

“Anything?” Jason asks like he knows damn well Dick can’t swear on that word.

Rightly so, Dick backtracks. “Something agreed upon.”

Jason throws his hands up, partially in exasperation, partially relenting.

Dick smoothly turns his back to him, announcing, “Opening up the room for ideas.”

Damian’s eye roll is almost audible from the corner armchair, where his attention is unmoved from intently sharpening a blade he’d recently come into possession of.

Bruce similarly remains unbothered in his seat, trying to read despite the distractions.

“Ooh, okay. Okay.” Stephanie wiggles up a little on the couch. “You could race!”

Dick shakes his head negatively, “I literally just busted my knee up two days ago, Steph.”

“Convenient,” Jason mumbles.

“You were there!” Dick exclaims with an open mouth.

Steph continues, “Um…”

Cass waves to the room from her position upside down on the couch, head hanging down next to Stephanie’s legs. Attention successfully acquired, she signs, “Staring contest.”

Jason grimaces, “That sounds like a nightmare.”

Dick gives him a faux-smile.

“You should play chicken,” Damian chimes in, holding up his knife.

“No,” Bruce drones monotonously as he flips a page.

“Tic tac toe?” Steph suggests.

Cass is already shaking her head as she scrunches up her mouth in thought.

Jason rolls his eyes, “What are we, five?”

Dick nods, cracking his knuckles as he thinks. “No, we need something that really proves our worth.”

Bruce looks up from his book, staring numbly through his brow, but remains silent.

“You could arm wrestle,” Steph suggests.

The elder brother twitches at that, “Uh, no.”

Cass moves past that before a joke has the chance to be made. “Handstand contest?” she suggests.

Jason shrugs, “Yeah, sure.”

The elder brother looks at him incredulously. “You’ll do a handstand contest with me?”

“That’s what I just said.”

Dick scoffs, “Jaybird, I’m an acrobat, you’re just some guy.”

Jason, not giving him the courtesy of eye contact, pulls his sweatshirt off from his back. “Well, you’re a lot of things, aren’t you?”

Dick throws his head back with a squint.

Jason fishes his phone out of his pocket and Dick follows suit, offended stare maintaining all the while.

No exchange is required as they both toss their phones across the room, landing together with a rough clatter on Damian’s lap. Damian’s resulting glare is borderline disgusted.

Dick starts them off, “Alright, go. One…two…”

Both men push up onto their hands, muscles flexing as they find their balance. Dick’s form is better, of course, but Jason looks to have a stronger foundation.

They both hold strong as several minutes go by with the brothers only maintaining the attention of some of the room, and the interest of none of it.

Stephanie huffs and tilts her head, thoroughly unentertained with the consistency they’re both managing.

“Starting to wish they’d picked something that moved along a little faster,” she murmurs to Cass.

Dick glances over at the younger brother, clearly displeased with his lack of trouble keeping up with him. He shuffles closer one hand at a time, using the decreased distance to poke at Jason with his foot, trying to knock him over.

Jason kicks him back harder, “Hey! Don’t be a dick—”

“Very funny,” Dick leers.

They both end up finding a struggle to keep balance and are forced to mind their own.

A chime rings out from the corner that has heads turning briefly in his direction before coming back to the competition.

“Whose was that?” Dick calls out.

Damian leans over and inspects the screens with disinterest. “Todd’s.”

Jason adjusts his position, “Who is it?”

Damian responds with your name.

“And?”

He picks up the phone shrugging like he couldn’t care less, “She wants to know if you want to go see some movie.”

There’s a brief silence before Jason drops out of the handstand, standing up.

Dick’s blood-flushed face peers up at him, bewildered. “Wait, what?”

The family watches with wide eyes as Jason picks his sweatshirt up off the floor and tugs it back on.

Stephanie gawks, bordering on laughing. “Are you serious?”

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Dick lets himself fall into a kneeling position with a huff, “You would rather go to some movie you don’t even know the name of than win a bet?”

Jason moues at him, “Uh, yeah.”

He tosses a twenty at Dick, and plucks his phone from Damian’s hand as he strolls past him, typing out a reply.

Cass sits up a bit and signs up to Stephanie, “Does he even like movies?”

Bruce, now attention now fully removed from his book, watches Jason exit with the slightest hint of a smile. Dick sits dumbly on the floor, staring after him with an open-mouth.

Damian twists the knife in his hands around contemplatively before rising to stand.

“I will go,” he announces, dropping his blade onto the seat of the chair. Jason grumbles a no but Damian follows after him just the same.

you know what happened to the last guy that didn’t reblog? … 🔪🧨💥😵⚰️🪦

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