#it feels apocalyptic to post right now

[pighaulin]

doctor, i can’t tell if i’m not me…

no glitch, no filters vvv

[falloutsgraygarden]

"It took me a long time to realize that home is where you make it.

With some time and effort this place can be home for you too."

-Nick Valentine with the lore drops and encouragement 🤗

and he did it at Graygarden too which I appreciate~

(pls don't mind the night mode😴)

[jose996c]

A Flame in the Cold

Summery: In a post-apocalyptic world, you’ve always kept your distance—tough, independent, and untouched. As a patrol scout in Jackson, you’ve never allowed yourself to be vulnerable. But when a storm traps you and Joel Miller in a cabin during a routine patrol, everything changes, and the walls you’ve both built begin to crack.

Warnings: Virginity, first time, post apocalypse, fluff, age-gap (reader is in her 30's), romance, smut, unprotected PIV, one shot, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving).

Paring: Joel Miller x f!reader

Word count: 4k

It’s been months like this. You and him. Patrol partners. The steady kind of quiet that grows into comfort. Or something close to it.

“Gonna be a storm,” he mutters, more to the trees than to you.

You glance at the sky. “You always say that.”

“‘Cause I’m always right.”

You snort, but there’s warmth under it. The kind that only comes from repetition — same trail, same partner, same rhythm. You’ve come to rely on it more than you should.

And maybe he has too.

You catch him watching you sometimes when he thinks you’re not looking. His gaze lingers too long when you roll up your sleeves, stretch your neck, wipe sweat from your brow. He always looks away first — jaw tight, hands flexing like he’s holding something back.

You pretend not to notice. But it’s harder now, this time, like you’re both waiting for something to shift.

The wind picks up fast — sharp and biting — and the sky darkens in a way that does feel different.

Joel stops at the ridge, eyes scanning the trees. “Cabin’s not far. We’ll wait it out.”

You nod. You know the place. Been there before. It’s small and cold and drafty, but it’s better than being caught in whiteout hell.

The snow comes down harder as you walk, stinging your face, settling on your hair. Joel’s shoulder brushes yours as you move in step, and neither of you pulls away. The cabin is a beacon in the white, a promise of warmth and shelter.

Inside, it’s not much better. The fireplace is cold, the room stale with the scent of unused space. But there’s a pile of firewood in the corner, a relic from before the world went to hell. Joel’s eyes light up with something like hope, and he says, “Looks like we can keep warm tonight.”

You help him get a fire going, the sound of crackling wood and the smell of smoke bringing a semblance of life to the cabin. The warmth spreads out, chasing the cold from your fingertips and toes. You sit across from each other, the flickering light playing over your faces.

You peel off your gloves, rubbing your hands together, feeling the heat seep into your skin. His eyes follow the movement, and you realize you’re shaking. He notices. “You cold?”

“A little,” you admit, looking away, focusing on the fire.

“You should warm up,” Joel says gruffly, his eyes not leaving your shivering hands. He reaches into his pack and pulls out a flask, uncaps it, and takes a swig. “Here.” He holds it out to you.

You look at it, then at him. The whiskey glints in the firelight, and the warmth of his hand is almost as inviting as the liquid inside. You take it and let the amber fire slide down your throat. It burns, but in a good way. The kind that thaws the ice you didn’t realize was there.

“Thanks,” you murmur, handing it back.

He takes a swig, and for a moment, you let the quiet settle around you, the whiskey warming your chest. The storm outside seems to crescendo with every beat of your heart.

After a while, the silence grows thick, and your mind drifts to places you’ve been avoiding. You shift in your seat, restless, your fingers absently tracing the edge of your mug. There’s something about tonight, the storm, the fire, the way the cabin is small and intimate. You’ve never really allowed yourself to acknowledge it before, but the feeling — the need — is undeniable now.

You glance at Joel, watching the fire with that far-off look in his eyes, his body still and rigid in that way he always gets when he’s lost in thought. You wonder if he’s thinking about it too. About how things have been different lately. About the way the tension between you has been growing, thicker with every shared patrol, every passing glance.

Your breath hitches. You need to say it. You can’t keep pretending this silence is all there is.

“Joel,” you say softly. His head turns toward you almost immediately, his expression guarded, but his eyes are sharper than usual. “I’m tired of being… alone.”

He stays quiet, watching you as if waiting for you to explain.

“I’ve never…” You pause, words stuck in your throat, but the warmth from the whiskey helps to loosen you up, helps to give you the courage you need. “I’ve never been with anyone. And I don’t want to keep pretending like I’m okay with it anymore.”

There’s a long silence. You see his jaw tighten, his hands flex slightly as if he’s holding something back. He doesn’t say anything right away, just watches you, and you can’t read him, not completely. But the air between you is heavy, charged. You can feel it now, more than ever. The space between you feels too small, the flickering firelight casting shadows that make everything seem too close, too real.

“I mean...” you continue, your voice a little shakier now, “I just—I don’t want to be like this anymore. Alone. I’ve been holding onto this for so long, and maybe it’s just the storm or... or maybe it’s just me, but I can’t keep pretending like it’s not there.”

Joel’s eyes soften slightly, his posture stiffening, like he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he looks down at his hands, the flask still gripped between his fingers. His expression is conflicted, but you can see the desire there too, hidden behind that mask of control. And that’s what makes your heart race even harder — you can see it in the way he’s looking at you, like he’s trying to decide if he can let go.

You can’t keep holding back. Not anymore.

“I’m not asking for anything to change,” you say, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m just... telling you how I feel. I want to be with someone. You.”

Joel’s gaze flickers with something you can’t quite name. The flicker of recognition, of longing, that matches what you’ve been feeling all this time.

His voice is low when he speaks, rougher than before, but there’s no denying the desire there. “Are you sure? 'Cause once we step over this line, there ain't no going back.”

You nod, feeling the heat rush through you. You’re sure. You’re tired of being cautious, of keeping the wall between you both. You want this — you want him.

“I’m sure,” you whisper, stepping closer to him. Your heart is pounding in your chest, but there’s a calmness that settles over you as you close the distance between you. “I’ve been sure for a long time.”

Joel watches you, his eyes dark and full of something raw, something real. Slowly, he reaches for you, his hand warm against your cheek as he pulls you in. You don’t fight it. You let him, your lips meeting his in a kiss that starts slow, hesitant, but quickly deepens. It’s the first kiss you’ve had in years, and it’s everything you never knew you needed. It’s gentle but firm, a promise of warmth in a cold world.

The whiskey has left a sweet, smoky taste on your tongue, and you can feel his breath, feel his need, his hesitation. You want to tell him it’s okay, that you’re ready, but the words are lost in the kiss. Instead, you let your hands find his shoulders, gripping tight, as if to say you’re not going anywhere.

The kiss deepens, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, holding you closer. It’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before, this desperation wrapped in tenderness, this fierce protection wrapped in desire. Joel’s other hand rests on your waist, his thumb tracing small circles that make you shiver. It’s not just the fire warming you now.

You pull away slightly, catching your breath. “I want this, Joel,” you murmur.

He searches your eyes, looking for the truth in your words, and when he finds it, his own eyes flicker with something that resembles relief. He leans in again, kissing you more urgently now, his hand sliding down to your hip, tugging you closer. The heat from his body is a stark contrast to the chill outside, and you find yourself craving more of it, more of him.

The fire crackles in the background, a gentle soundtrack to the storm outside. You let the warmth of his kiss spread through your body, let the whiskey warm your blood. His hands are steady, sure, as they explore you, as if he’s been waiting for this moment too. You realize you’re trembling, not just from the cold anymore, but from the anticipation, from the fear of what comes next.

Joel’s hands slide up your arms, leaving a trail of heat. His thumbs trace the line of your jaw, tilting your face up to his. His eyes are a storm of their own, full of unspoken things, full of questions. You nod, the smallest movement, but enough to tell him yes. Yes, you want this. Yes, you’re ready.

He takes your hand, leading you to the only bed in the cabin. It’s small and looks like it'll fall apart any moment, but for now it’ll have to do. You sit down, your heart racing, your breath coming in quick pants. He takes off his coat, then yours, laying them out like a barrier against the cold floorboards. He’s trying to be gentle, but his eyes are hungry.

When you move to unbuckle his belt, his hand stops you, his grip firm but gentle. “We don’t have to rush,” he says, his voice gruff. “It’s your first time. We’ll take it slow, make it good for you.”

Surprise flits through your eyes, and he sighs, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. “You don’t know much, do you?” His voice is softer now, and it makes your heart ache.

“What do you mean?” you ask, a blush creeping up your cheeks.

“Let me show you,” Joel says, his voice a gentle rumble in the quiet room.

He sits beside you, his hands moving to your hips, his eyes never leaving yours. With a gentle nudge, he urges you to lay down, and you do, feeling the mattress dip under your weight. You watch as he unbuckles your boots setting them aside with care. Then, his calloused hands skate up your legs, unbuttoning your pants with a deliberate slowness that makes you squirm.

"Relax," Joel murmurs, his breath warm against your neck. He eases your pants off, leaving you in just your shirt, bra, and underwear. You're so cold you can feel your teeth chatter, but the heat from his body is a comfort. He leans over you, his hands framing your face, and kisses you again, deep and slow, until your tremors subside, and you melt into him.

His hands slide down your body, his eyes never leaving yours. You're hyperaware of every touch, every movement. His thumb traces the line of your panties, and with a gentle tug, Joel pulls your underwear down, exposing you to the warmth of the cabin. His eyes darken as he takes in the sight of you, and for a moment, you feel self-conscious. But then his mouth is on yours again, reassuring, as his hand moves between your legs. He’s so gentle, his fingers exploring, pressing, until you’re gasping into his mouth.

You feel his breath on your skin as he kisses his way down, his eyes never leaving yours, like he’s asking for permission with every touch. And when his mouth finally meets your core, you realize what he meant. Your eyes roll back in your head as pleasure blooms through you, and you grip the blanket tightly.

The storm outside is a distant roar now, the only sounds in the cabin are the crackle of the fire and the soft noises you make as Joel’s mouth and hands work in harmony. You’ve never felt this before — the intensity, the connection, the feeling of being cherished in this way.

His tongue is warm, insistent, and you can’t help but arch into him. You’re not sure if it’s the whiskey or the warmth or the sheer need that’s building, but your body responds in a way that’s both new and exhilarating. His fingers slide in, filling you up, and your hips jerk in response.

He keeps going, his touch sure, his eyes on yours, and you find yourself letting go of all the fears and the worries. You trust him. You trust this moment. And when you finally do, when you finally let yourself feel, it’s like a dam breaking — a shock of pleasure that leaves you breathless and trembling.

Joel’s eyes are soft as he watches you come down from the high, his fingers still inside you, stroking gently. He kisses your thighs, his stubble a delicious abrasion on your sensitive skin. You feel boneless, like you could melt into the bed and never get back up again.

For a moment, he just holds you, giving you time to breathe, to process. The storm outside is a distant rumble, the only competition to the thunder of your racing heart. You're pulled out of your post orgasm bliss, when you feel Joel pulling away - You’re not ready for this to end. You want more of him — all of him.

You reach for him, your hand curling around the back of his neck, and you pull him up to kiss you. The kiss is hungry, demanding. It’s like you’re saying with your body what you can’t with words: you’re ready. You want him.

Joel seems to understand. He kisses you back, deep and slow, before he pulls away, his eyes searching yours. He reaches for the hem of your shirt, and you lift your arms, letting him pull it off. The chilly air kisses your bare skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat in Joel’s gaze. He runs his hands over your torso, his thumbs circling your breasts before he leans in to kiss them.

You gasp at the sensation, your body responding to his touch like it’s been starved for it. His mouth is hot, his tongue teasing your nipples until they peak, and your back arches off the bed. His hands slide up your body, holding you in place as he worships you with his mouth, and you realize you’ve never felt so alive.

As he kisses his way up your torso, you can feel his arousal pressing against you, and the urgency in his touch is a mirror of what you’re feeling. You want to explore him, to feel the hard planes of his body against your softness. You want to know what it’s like to have him inside you, to feel the weight of him above you, the safety of his arms around you.

You reach for him, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, eager to touch him, to feel his skin against yours. Joel pauses, his eyes meeting yours, and there’s something in his gaze that makes you pause — a question, a silent request for consent. You nod, your cheeks flushing with a mix of nerves and desire. He helps you, his movements careful as he slides the shirt off his shoulders, revealing the muscular expanse of his chest. The sight of him like this, vulnerable and open, sends a jolt of excitement through you.

His hands are trembling as he undoes your bra, his eyes never leaving yours. The cold air of the cabin is a stark contrast to the heat of your skin as it meets his, and you can feel your heart pounding in your ears. He kisses you again, his tongue delving into your mouth with a new urgency that matches the storm outside. His hands explore your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your sensitive nipples, and you moan into his mouth.

You’re both shivering now, not from the cold but from the anticipation. Joel pulls back, his eyes searching yours, and you can see the war raging in them. He’s fighting himself, trying to be gentle, to be the kind of man you deserve. But the fire between you is too strong to be contained. You reach up, your hands fisting in his shirt, and you pull him back down, your mouth hungry for his.

You kiss him like you’re trying to devour him, and he responds in kind. His hands are everywhere, memorizing the curve of your hips, the softness of your skin, the dip of your waist. You’re a canvas of sensation, and he’s the artist, painting you with his touch. His mouth trails down your neck, leaving a wake of fire in its path. You feel him undo his belt, the sound of it hitting the floor like a gunshot in the quiet room.

Joel’s hand slides down your stomach, and you lift your hips, urging him closer. He pauses, his breath hot against your ear. “Are you sure about this?” His voice is a whispered thunder, full of his own need and hesitation.

“Yes,” you breathe, the word a desperate plea. You can feel your body begging for him, for this connection that you’ve been craving.

Joel’s eyes search yours for one last moment of certainty before his hand slides down, his fingertips brushing against the wetness that’s pooled between your legs.

He groans, low and needy, as he positions himself, his cock pressing against your entrance. You feel a mix of excitement and fear, the reality of what’s about to happen crashing over you like a wave. He’s so much larger than you expected, and you tense up, unsure if you can handle it. But he notices, his hand coming up to stroke your cheek, his thumb brushing away a tear that’s slipped down your face.

“It’s okay, baby,” he whispers, his voice a soothing rumble. “We’ll go slow. I’ll take care of you.”

With a nod, you give him the okay, your eyes fluttering shut as you focus on the feeling of him against you. Joel’s hands are everywhere, holding you, soothing you, as he pushes in inch by agonizing inch. You feel stretched, filled, and the pain is sharp, but it’s not unwelcome.

He whispers sweet nothings into your ear, his voice a balm that eases the ache as he pushes further, his cock breaching your untouched depths. You grip the blankets, your body taut with tension, and when he’s buried to the hilt, he stills, giving you a moment to adjust to the feeling.

Then, he starts to move, his hips rocking in a slow, steady rhythm that you instinctively match. Your bodies find a harmony that’s been years in the making, a dance of trust and desire that unfolds in the flickering firelight. His eyes never leave yours, searching for any sign of pain, any reason to stop, but all he finds is an all-consuming need that mirrors his own.

You gasp as he fills you, the sensation overwhelming in its intensity. Each thrust is a promise, each withdrawal a sweet agony that makes you ache for more. You feel him everywhere, his heat seeping into your bones, his strength a comfort against the harshness of the world outside. And with every movement, the pain fades, replaced by a blossoming pleasure that makes your toes curl and your back arch.

Joel’s eyes never leave yours, his expression a mix of concentration and wonder. His strokes are deep, but measured, each one pushing you closer to the edge of something you’ve never felt before. You can feel your walls tighten around him, your body learning the rhythm of this new dance, this claiming that feels both primal and sacred.

As he moves, his hand slowly making it's way down, his thumb finding your clit and starting to rub it in slow, deliberate circles. It’s a gentle pressure, a sweet torment that builds alongside the ache of his cock moving inside you. You whimper, your eyes fluttering shut, as the sensations coil in your belly.

The cabin walls seem to close in around you, the only world that exists is the warmth of the fire, the sound of the storm, and the feeling of Joel’s body against yours. His hand on your clit is a steady beat, a reminder of the pleasure that’s growing, swelling with every stroke. You start to move with him, your hips rising to meet his, your body finding a rhythm that feels as old as time itself.

Joel’s breathing changes, gets heavier, and you know he’s close. His eyes are dark with lust, his mouth open in a silent groan, his body taut with the effort to hold back. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the way he’s fighting to keep it slow, to make sure you’re okay.

And then he’s not holding back anymore. His movements become more urgent, his hips snapping into you with a force that steals your breath. His hand on your clit moves faster, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of something so big, so intense, it feels like it could swallow you whole.

Joel’s sounds are guttural, almost animalistic, a stark contrast to the tender whispers from before. His breathing is ragged, his face a mask of concentration and passion. His eyes are locked on yours, watching you, making sure you’re still with him, making sure you’re still okay.

You are more than okay. The sensations are overwhelming, but it’s a good kind of overwhelming, a kind that you never knew existed. Your body responds to his touch, his movements, like it’s been waiting for this all along. You feel yourself building up, climbing higher and higher, the pressure inside you growing, demanding release.

“Come for me, baby,” Joel murmurs, his voice thick with need. And it’s like the words are a key, unlocking something deep within you. Your body responds, your muscles tightening around him as pleasure crashes over you like a wave. Your back arching off the bed, your nails digging into his back. The world narrows to just the two of you, the storm outside a distant memory.

You come with a cry that’s muffled by his mouth, the taste of him on your tongue. He groans, his hips stuttering, and you feel his warmth fill you, his release a counterpoint to the cold outside. Your bodies are slick with sweat and passion, the fire casting flickering shadows across your skin.

Joel holds you tightly, his breath hot against your neck as he slows, his cock still buried deep inside you. His arms are like steel bands around your waist, his heart hammering against your chest. You can feel the tremors in his body, the aftershocks of his release.

For a moment, you both just lie there, breathing hard, the storm outside forgotten. Then, with a shiver, you realize how cold the room has become. Joel must sense it too, because he pulls back, his eyes searching yours. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice rough with concern.

You nod, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your veins. He reaches over, grabbing the discarded blanket and draping it over both of you, tucking you into his side. His arms come around you, holding you close, and you snuggle into him, feeling more alive than you have in years.

Dividers by @strangergraphics

[fallenbratfiction]

Bambi ~ Part one

series masterpost here pedro pascal masterlist

a/n: this is quite long, I hope it keeps you fed while I prepare the next part!! feedback is always welcomed!! i will be gnawing at the bars of my enclosure ok bye!

mentions: post-outbreak / apocalyptic setting, dubcon/coercion themes, blood mention, obsession/possessiveness, power imbalance, reader is of age (above 18), naive reader (soft/innocent/inexperienced), fingering, non-explicit violence & threats, gun use, manipulation & emotional control, possessiveness, praise kink, possible other kinks, punishments,, “daddy” kink, shared reader (Joel x Reader x Tommy), pet names (Bambi, sweet girl, good girl, our girl), domestic elements turned dark, mental confusion & emotional overwhelm, morally gray to fully unhinged dark Miller brothers

Reader discretion strongly advised. Dark themes throughout. Minors DNI ❌ This is a work of fiction and does not reflect healthy or ideal relationships!!! 

Do not copy, translate or claim any of my work as your own. 

⟡━━━ ✦ 𝗱𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗳𝗶𝗰 ahead ✦ ━━━⟡

The forest is quiet at night, too quiet for its own sake. There used to be more life out here. Crickets chirping. Frogs croaking. Birds or bats darting through the dark sky. Now there’s nothing. Just still trees and dead air, like the whole forest is holding its breath.

“You know what I miss the most about the woods?” Joel asks, voice low as he walks beside his brother, their shotguns slung across their backs.

 Tommy turns to him and huffs, waiting for his brother to respond to his question.“Deers” Tommy hums in approval, “Used to see ‘em all the time, this time of night.” 

“You miss watchin’ ‘em or huntin’ ‘em?”  Tommy snorts, Joel huffs a quiet laugh—

—and then it happens.

A sudden flash of motion cuts through the trees. Small, fast. Barely there.

Both of them stop. 

Silence. 

Alert. 

They are quick to grab their shotguns and scan the shadows with their guns pointed, expecting another movement. Eyes sharp, bodies tensed. 

Joel’s voice drops, almost amused. “Well, speak of the devil…”

Tommy steps forward, eyes narrowed. “You saw that?”

Joel is already scanning the brush. “Yeah. Could’ve been a rabbit. Could’ve been somethin’ else.”

Another motion. Left this time. Farther.

They both turn, guns half-lifted.

Joel mutters, “Whatever it is, it’s movin’ smart.”

Tommy nods. “Too smart.”

A beat passes. Then Joel speaks.

“Split?”

“Yeah,” Tommy says, already turning to flank. “We circle the woods. If it’s still out here—we’ll find it.”

They part in silence, each splitting through the trees like they already know the drill, they’ve done this a hundred times by now. 

Joel moves through the right,  slow and deliberate, each of his steps deliberate. Meanwhile, Tommy veers to the other direction; his steps are lighter and his eyes cut through the dark like a blade, scanning everything in sight.

You’re out there moving fast, barefoot and running out of air. Your legs are tired and bruised from all the times you’ve tripped. You don’t know how far you’ve gotten by now, but you can’t risk it, you can’t risk being found by him. 

You’re trying your best, but panic keeps you clumsy, and every snap of a branch is louder than it should be. The leaves rustle with every move you make, which guides Joel closer to your location. 

You don’t know they are close. 

They don’t know if you’re a wild animal, a person, or just an illusion. 

They’re not here to hurt you, but you don’t know that. They are just as curious as you, and just as cautious. 

They keep circling you, it’s like a never-ending game. They move, you move, they move again. Joel on one side, Tommy on the other. Each move draws the noose tighter, but they don’t know how close they are yet; they just feel it. 

You’re not trying to be found, but you’ve been on the run for long enough now. Your body aches, and your vision is blurry from the adrenaline and the fact that, along the way, you had lost your glasses. You weave through the trees, ducking under branches and trunks of trees, your hands in front of you leading the way until your foot catches around thorns. 

You don’t scream or cry, but it’s evident you’ve fallen due to the solid thud of your body hitting the ground. The game is over; they’ve found you. Joel turns and runs in your direction. Tommy, though a bit further, hears the sound as well and freezes. 

Branches hit Joel’s body as he pushes forward through the forest, deeper into the darkness, with only his flashlight in hand, his shotgun lowered in his other hand. 

And that's when he finds you curled on the ground, legs smeared with dirt as well as your clothes, and your hair is a tangled mane with leaves. You stare at the figure of Joel like a deer caught in the headlights. Your eyes are wide, frozen. 

He just stands there looking at you, neither of you says a word. A part of him relaxes, you’re just a girl. His eyes then trail over your shape, too small, too soft, too human. 

“Huh, not exactly what I expected to find.” He murmurs mostly to himself. 

Joel keeps the flashlight on your face just enough to keep you stunned, your eyes don’t leave the light, too afraid to move, and quite honestly, too blinded to know what to do next, but your body remains tense, muscles twitching like you’re ready to bolt and run in any direction.

You watch him as he moves two fingers close to his mouth and lets out a specific whistle, alerting someone else that he has found you. Low and controlled, he repeats it for Tommy to hear and waits for his response. 

Tommy whistles back as he makes his way to Joel, and to you now as well. 

Joel crouches slowly as if he were face to face with a wild, wounded animal. You don’t move at all. You don’t know who or what he is or what his intentions are. Joel is checking to see if you were infected. Thankfully, your short dress allowed him to inspect your body without getting too close. He’s seen enough infected people by now to know what to look for and how they look alike. He also looks to check if you carry any weapons on you, investigating what kind of girl you are. 

Were you a savage? 

Were you running from danger? 

Were you lost? 

“You gon bite me if I touch you?” he asks in a low voice. You don’t answer, just shake your head, barely breathing. “Alright then, let’s see what you are.” 

He gets slightly closer now, you can feel his breathing close to yours, and the warmth that radiates from his body. Joel kneels right in front of you, flashlight set on the ground gently. He scans your body, not touching yet. 

“Were you hurt?” he asks softly, afraid to scare you off. “Can you tell me your name? Where you come from?” 

You don’t make a sound, just blink up at him slowly, your chest rising and falling like the adrenaline is coming down. He watches your face, tight with fear and filthy with dirt, and he reaches out to you with his arm slowly. His fingers are rough, but he remains gentle nonetheless. 

He moves the hair from your face, gently cradles your chin as he looks into your eyes, before lowering his sight to check for scratches.

Your eyes are clear. Not infected, checked. 

Lips are dry, but no blood or foam in sight. 

No signs of a bite. 

Joel shifts closer, now checking your arms, elbows, and shoulders as he scans for any wounds or shivers. You don’t move at all the whole time. Too scared to try anything or make him think you would do something. 

“My name is Joel,” he says, meeting your eyes again, “I’m not here to hurt you, understand me?” 

You stare at him for a beat too long, Joel wonders if you can even speak at all. 

You nod once, small but enough for him to catch. 

Joel exhales like he’s been holding his breath this whole time. Encountering you feels like an encounter with a deer, wide-eyed, silent, frightened and too delicate for this kind of world.

Yet still alive, and perhaps willing to be led. 

The moment is interrupted by the appearance of Tommy. 

Branches crack under his boots as he pushed through the brush, eyes sharp and his gun still raised. His flashlight lands on Joel, then on you. 

“What the hell?” 

Joel lifts a hand. “Easy. Put it down Tommy” 

Tommy doesn’t move at first, his gaze set on your dirt smeared wide eyes as you stare back at him. 

“She infected?” he asks, voice low. 

“No” Joel says “Not infected, not hurt either. I checked” 

Tommy hesitates and Joel asks him to put down the gun again. He obligues, slow and careful like defusing a bomb. 

Joel turns back to you “C’mon sweetheart, let me help you up” 

He reaches for you, carefully. You hesitate and after a pause you take his hand.

Tommy watches your legs tremble as you rise, body sluggish, muscles weak from exhaustion but you don’t stumble. It’s like watching Bambi trying to stand. 

You move behind Joel. 

Your hand curls tight around the fabric of his sleeves, fingers digging into his forearm enough to anchor yourself. You watch Tommy as you hide behind Joel’s shoulder. 

Joel doesn’t flinch but Tommy watches you closely. 

“You trust him already?” he asks. 

You don’t respond, but Joel does. 

“She doesn’t know me,” 

Yet still you stand right there, behind a man you just met.

Joel feels the way your figure warms his back, looking for warmth yourself, your fingers digging into his arm and hears your staggering breaths. 

You don’t know him at all, but you know he’s not the one you’re running from. Neither is Tommy, although you’re just as skeptical as him. Your nose twitches slightly catching smells. The men scent, wood, sweat, trees and dirt.

They smell like the woods, like safety in a way that confuses you. 

You don’t know why you lean into trusting them, but you do. 

“Well shit, what did we just find?” Tommy mutters finally “What do we do about her?” 

Joel doesn’t answer. His hand rises, steady and low and rests over yours on his arm. You feel the calloused rough palm set on top of your frozen hand. 

It’s not spoken, but they both seem to have agreed to take you back to their cabin. 

They lead you through the forest path, Joel at your side while Tommy walks behind watching the two of you. His gun is still lowered but his arm remains tense. 

The flashlight leads the way and cuts forward, flickering over roots and moss. The arm that’s not gripping Joel presses against trees, guiding yourself through your senses like you don’t trust the flashlight enough. 

Joel keeps a close eye on you, glancing over in case your legs give out and he has to carry you himself at any given moment. The two of you are silent, but Tommy though, he’s certainly not quiet. 

“So where do you come from?” he starts, voice firm as he asks a thousand questions. “You got family out here? Camp nearby? You run off from someone?” 

You turn your head to look at him, your lips parted but you don’t emit an answer. You neither shake or nod your head. 

Tommy keeps asking questions. 

“Why were you running?” Still nothing. “You look like you’ve been out here for a while, someone chasing you?” 

You swallow hard, your steps falter and you almost trip. 

You turn your head forward, focusing on your steps that you barely see. 

“I’m talkin’ to you” Tommy says now louder. 

You flinch at the tone of his voice. Head ducking and your body curling to Joel’s looking for a sense of protection. 

“I–” you don’t remember a single thing, memories blur as you try to think of what to say. “I– I don’t know” 

“You don’t know?” He scoffs and stops walking. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? You don’t know?” 

You shrink back instantly. His tone, the pressure of his questions and the rapid fire of them banging at the door. If you weren’t holding yourself so tightly to Joel right now, you’d flee like a scared deer. 

“Enough questions now, Tommy” Joel cuts in, exhausted from the scene. “Let’s get her inside and we can keep going at this there” 

“Oh so we’re bringing complete strangers into the cabin now. That’s great” 

“Tommy–”

“What if this is a trap, huh? What if she’s not alone? What if there’s a group of people expecting for us to be at the door and storm in? What if they’re waiting for us to drag her inside?” 

Joel hesitates. 

He doesn’t want to believe a word he says, he doesn’t think any of it its true. 

They both turn to you. You’ve gone silent again with the tone of Tommy’s voice. 

Their flashlight catching your face again. 

Lips parted. Eyes glossy filled with fear. Trembling breaths.

Not the kind of fear you feel from hiding something, rather the kind of fear when you’re about to break. 

You’re a deer caught in the headlights. Too scared to breathe, lie or even run away.

If you knew anything or had any kind of information, you’d spill the second they push harder. 

“Let’s just get her inside first.” 

The door creaks open and you step into a bubble of warmth. Your leggs stutter as you cross the threshold. Fire crackles somewhere in the corner, inside a black box. 

Their scent is so much stronger inside the cabin, it smells of pine, smoke and whiskey. 

There’s a couch sitting under a large window, it’s covered with a few worn in blankets and a jacket lays in the arm rest. There’s a small kitchen good enough for both of them to make use of it  and a wooden table with four chairs. 

Tommy shuts the door behind you and stays near it. Joel on the other hand, moves slowly, guiding you over to the couch. 

“You can take a seat” he offers “You’re safe” 

You hover over to the couch but you don’t sit just yet. You’re not sure what to do with all this warmth, the cushions, the blankets. 

Joel sighed and heads to the kitchen, you watch as he takes a can and sets it on the surface. He pours into a bowl and brings it back to you. The smell of stew becomes more intense with every step he takes in your direction. 

You stare at the bowl in his hands like it’s a test. What even is it? Is it really for you?

“You should eat something” he says gently. 

You look up at him, then back at the bowl, then at him again before taking the bowl from his hands slowly. 

Tommy watches the whole scene and mutters under his breath. “Yeah, totally not suspicious” 

“Tommy” Joel shoots him a look, “She’s probaby  in shock” 

“She’s in something”

You flinch again and Joel catches it. He takes the bowl from your hands and sets it on the coffee table in front of the couch. 

“Alright, you can eat when you’re ready” he murmurs “We will give you space.” 

He backs away, nodding toward the kitchen. Tommy hesitates, then follows—just a few meters, not far. Not out of earshot. Definitely not out of sight.

Joel opens the fridge with a soft creak, pulls out two beers, and offers one wordlessly. Tommy takes it, eyes never leaving you as he brings the bottle to his lips.

No one speaks.

The fire crackles quietly, casting dancing shadows along the floor. Somewhere outside, the wind brushes against the cabin walls like a whisper.

You hear your own breath, and then – your stomach growls. Loud. Desperate.

The sound feels foreign, you hadn’t heard it in a while and it seemed your body just remembered it needs something. 

Legs folding beneath you as you sink onto the edge of the couch, cautious and unsure. Your fingers reach for the bowl Joel left behind. 

You inspect the bowl before you take a bite, stirring the thick mixture—bits of potato, carrot, some kind of meat. You don’t care what any of it is. The stew hits your tongue, a warm salty flavour that seems to wake up a memory. It’s so distant in your mind that you can’t reach it. 

They both watch you as you eat from the bowl, Tommy leans on the counter, his expression unreadable. Joel is less obvious as he drinks his beer.

You finish the last bit of stew and the spoon clinks softly against the bowl. You set it back on the table and Joel takes it as a signal to move closer, perhaps you’re ready to talk now. 

You clean your mouth with the back of your hand and rest it on your lap, anchoring yourself to the couch. 

Joel’s boots step closer, slowly through the wooden floor. He crouches down beside you at eye level while Tommy watches from the kitchen. He’s still suspicious—but something in his gaze shifts. Just a little. Less predator. More puzzled. Curious.

“You remember anything yet?” 

You stay in silence and shut your eyes tightly. As if you could squeeze the memories, look through your skull for any piece of information. And it does, but its not what you want. It’s far too painful to open that door inside your memory lane. 

There’s a shotgun, your mother screaming, crying in pain and lots of blood. And then running endlessly. Your breath tearing through your lungs, your barefeet raw agains stone and soil. Your glasses fall somewhere in the middle of the road. 

You gasp and your eyes open – wide and glassy. 

Joel doesn’t move an inch. 

Tommy straightens, his jaw tightens. 

“What was it?” he asks gently. You shake your head. 

“I don’t…I don’t know” you whisper, your voice hoarse from not having spoken in so long. 

“Try” Tommy says from the kitchen, you both turn your heads to him and you nod. 

“There was…blood. And someone crying. I think—I think it was my mom” 

Joel’s gaze darkens but his voice stays at the same level as before. “You remember a name? Yours? Hers?”

You shake your head again, frustrated at the lack of memory. 

Tommy shifts his weight and rubs his hand along the back of his neck. “Jesus, what happened to you?” 

You look down at your lap, Joel interrupts. “You’re safe now, that’s what matters”

But are you really safe? With them? 

You want to feel safe, a part of the warmth allows you to. 

But there’s something left unsaid, something you quite haven’t figured out yet. 

Joel takes the blankets without saying a word and moves slowly over you. You’ve curled yourself on your side, he set a cushion under your head. He tucks the edges so the blanket doesn’t slip when you turn. 

You don’t move at all. 

Not when his hand pauses near your shoulder, not when he lingers too long watching your face in the soft flicker of firelight. Joel pulls back, leaving you alone on the couch and you heard the floorboards creaking under his boots. He turns to Tommy and signals to go outside to talk in private.

You can’t sleep. 

You should be exhausted due to all the running and the adrenaline rush, but your body remains alert. You hear them talking somewhere near the window, their voices low like the things they’re saying are not meant for your ears. 

Your eyes stay shut, breaths slow and steady. 

“What are we going to do with her?” Tommy murmurs. 

Joel doesn’t answer right away. 

“You saw her,” he says after a beat “She’s got no one. Not a memory, not even a name” 

“Yeah, not even a single survival instinct” he scoffs. Joel nods slow, agreeing with Tommy. 

The silence stretches long enough for both of them to sigh. 

“We’re keeping her” Joel says after a beat. 

“You serious?” Tommy turns to him “Joel, this isn’t some dog we found in the woods” 

“No, it’s not a dog, it’s a deer if anything. You saw her wide-eyes staring at our flashlights like a deer caught. She’s lucky we found her first” 

Your chest tightens as you listen to Joel’s voice. 

“The way she followed me, grabbed my arm. Like i was hers, like i was her anchor if something bad were to happen” he pauses “It means everything” 

“You like her?” Tommy turns to Joel, their eyes meet. Joel doesn’t answer. “I do too”

More silence. 

“We’ll take care of her” 

Joel flicks ash off his cigarette and says nothing, he turns to look at the cabin as if you could hear them through the walls. He wishes you could. 

You curl deeper under the blanket. The fabric still smells like firewood and soap and something faintly like him.

And behind your eyelids, all you can see is that shotgun again. The blood. Your mother’s scream.

And their voices now too. 

Eventually your body gave out. Not from safety but pure exhaustion that had clawed its way through your body. You didn’t dream of anything. Didn’t make it to the edge of a nightmare. 

Just completely blacked out. But before sleep took you, you’d felt them. 

The cabin door opened and you could hear quiet steps across the floor. You remained still with your eyes closed. Joel stood near you, close enough to feel. Then Tommy did as well. Neither of them touched you but you could feel their gaze before they each went to their rooms. 

Next morning 

You wake up to the smell of bacon. 

Salt and smoke and something almost sweet. Maple perhaps? Your eyes flutter slowly, vision still clouded with sleep. 

Joel is in the kitchen, his sleeves rolled up, a pan sizzling in front of him. The morning light cuts through the window in long slats casting a golden color over the room. 

Tommy is already awake. He’s sitting at the table, leaned back in the chair, a mug in hand. He’s not drinking, just holding it. Watching you. 

You sit up slowly and the blanket slips off your shoulder, pooling down your side. His eyes follow and look at your bare skin. He doesn’t look away, just looks harder. He’s not being subtle in the slightest and he knows it. 

Your throat tightens and you shift, you pull the blanket back like an armor and Tommy watches as you do. 

Joel glances over his shoulder as he serves the bacon in three different plates. “She’s up” 

“She sure is” Tommy’s gaze lingers for a moment before taking a sip. 

You feel uneasy, not unsafe but the way he’s staring at you like he could eat you right there and then was disturbing.Just yesterday, he didn’t want to let you inside the cabin. Now, you can feel it in his silence:He wouldn’t be able to let you out.

Joel, on the other hand, moves like nothing’s wrong.

He sets two plates on the table, one in front of the empty seat—yours. He nods at it casually, then looks down at you with a faint, unreadable smile.

“Here you go, Bambi.”

Your brows pull slightly. “What?”

“Figured since you don’t remember a name,” he says, setting down a mug of something warm—tea surely—“we might as well call you somethin’.”

You blink at him. Bambi. You should protest. But you don’t.

“That alright with you?” Tommy smiles at you. 

You just nod, slow, your stomach fluttering in ways you can’t explain.

The nickname clings to you like smoke. Innocent, sweet—and completely theirs.

You pull out the chair with a soft scrape and sit down, directly across from them. Tommy starts eating his plate of bacon while you stare down at yours as if trying to figure out what it is. 

“So we talked last night,” Joel starts as he takes a seat and relaxes back into the chair, chatting like its an everyday breakfast. You glance up at him, his voice is warm and calm.

 “You’re going to be staying with us,” he adds “if you want to, of course.” 

He lets the words sit there, lets you feel the kindness in them. Like you have a say.

But the truth seeps in anyway.

Where would you go?

Who would you find out there? Would you have food? A warm place to sleep? Would anyone keep you safe the way they would?

You hesitate.

Not because you’re unsure of the answer.

But because you know you’ve already lost the choice.

Joel watches you with a steady, comforting gaze—like he knows you’re working it all out. Like he’s giving you time to accept the truth.

And then Tommy speaks.

His voice is quieter this time. Measured. Different from the way he barked at you in the woods.

“Look,” he says, leaning slightly forward, elbows braced on the table. “I know I was... rough yesterday.”

You don’t meet his eyes.

He notices. He softens further.

“I get it. You’re scared. That’s fair.”

Tommy’s voice is lower now, softer than you’ve ever heard it. No edge, no sharpness—just quiet understanding. He offers the faintest smile. 

Trying to shape himself into something gentle. Something safe.

“But you don’t gotta be scared of us,” he says, eyes fixed on yours. “Ever.”

You glance away, uncertain.

He leans in just a little, voice dropping further—soothing, almost tender.

“We just want you to feel safe. That’s one of the many things we can offer you, if you let us.”

You swallow.

The words settle deep. Deeper than you want to admit. There’s no threat in them—but somehow, they still hold weight.

If you let us.

As if there’s a choice.

As if you haven’t already been folded into the center of their world without even realizing it.

Joel stays quiet, letting Tommy do the talking. But his eyes are on you, steady. 

The air feels thick.

You grip your fork tighter. Your eyes burn, but not with tears—just heat, tension, exhaustion.

And still—something in you wants to believe him. Wants to believe it could be that simple.

You nod, barely.

And your voice—quiet, hoarse, uncertain—slips out before you can stop it.

“...Okay.”

Just one word.

But Joel shifts when he hears it.

His eyes flick toward Tommy, then back to you. There’s something unreadable in his expression—something settled.

Tommy leans back slightly in his chair, but not far. Like he’s giving you space, but not too much.

Like he’s proud of himself.

Joel speaks next, quieter than before.

“Good, Bambi,” Joel says, voice low and easy. “Happy to have you on board.”

You give him a small smile—tight, unsure. But you offer it anyway.

And that’s more than enough.

He sees it. Feels it.

That flicker of willingness, of trust—however faint—is all he needs.

His hand brushes his thigh as he stands. “Why don’t you finish your breakfast,” he says, gesturing to your full plate, “and we’ll find you something clean to wear.”

You glance down at your clothes—mud-streaked, torn at the hem, dried blood in places you don’t want to think about.

You nod, quiet again. “Okay.”

Tommy stands too, stretching his arms, voice light. “Reckon we got some stuff she can use in the back. Closet’s got a few things.”

Joel takes his and Tommy’s plate and heads to the sink to clean up while you dive into your bacon and eggs. 

“How’s the taste, Bambi?” he asks, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You pause, blinking at him. Chewing.

“It’s good,” you say softly, then add—because it feels expected—“Thank you.”

His smile deepens. Not smug. Not proud. Just… satisfied.

“Good girl,” he murmurs under his breath as he turns back to the sink.

You’re not sure if he meant for you to hear that. But you do. And it settles deep.

Tommy returns from the hallway with a modest pile of clothes in his arms—folded, clean, and smelling faintly like cedar and something deeper beneath it.

“There weren’t many options,” he says, setting them down neatly on the couch, “but it’s more than I thought we had.”

You glance at the stack. An old flannel. A plain black hoodie. Two shirts. Pants. Sweatpants. Even a pair of underwear—too big, but clean.

You blink. It’s more than you expected. More than you’ve had in a long time.

Tommy takes a step back and gives you a quick once-over—not leering, but assessing. His gaze lingers just enough to make your stomach tighten.

“Think you might wanna get cleaned up first,” he says, tone still easy. “When’s the last time you took a shower?”

You look down at yourself—dirt-streaked skin, dried blood on your arms, your clothes stiff with sweat and earth. Your face grows hot.

You’ve been so focused on their scent. So taken by the safety, the fire, the comfort of not being alone—

You forgot your own.

Do you stink?

You shift in your seat, suddenly self-conscious. You don’t meet his eyes. You just shake your head slowly.

Tommy nods once and gestures down the hallway. “Bathroom’s the first door on the right. Hot water still works. Use whatever you need.”

Joel speaks up from the sink. “We’ll keep your breakfast warm.”

You stand, hands curling around the blanket at your chest.

Still watching. Still being watched.

The hallway is dim, the floor cool beneath your bare feet as you move toward the door Tommy pointed out. You clutch the pile of clothes against your chest, the blanket slipping away behind you.

The bathroom is small but clean. A mirror above the sink, fogged slightly from earlier use. You can still smell them in here—soap, cologne, cedarwood.

You lock the door.

Not because you think they’ll barge in.

But because it’s the first time since arriving that you’re alone.

You exhale shakily and set the clothes on the edge of the sink. There’s a towel waiting for you, neatly folded on a stool. A bar of soap. A bottle of shampoo that smells vaguely like pine and smoke. And draped carefully over the hook behind the door— a shirt.

Too big. Soft cotton. Joel’s, clearly.

You know it before you even touch it. You’ve smelled it on him, in the air, in the kitchen. It's clean, yes—but it carries him.

Your hand trembles as you reach for the hem of your shirt. You strip slowly, peeling away the days-old clothes, layer by layer, like skin that no longer belongs to you.

You avoid the mirror.

You don’t want to see yourself like this—hollow-eyed, bruised, thin.

You step into the shower.

When the water hits you—hot, real—it almost breaks you. You brace a hand on the wall, forehead pressed to cool tile, body trembling under the weight of heat and memory.

You don’t cry.

You just breathe. Shallow, shaky. Like you’re still hiding in the woods.

When you finish, you dry off and reach for the clothes. You pull on the underwear—too loose. The sweatpants—soft, drawstring pulled tight. And then…

Joel’s shirt.

It slips over your body, down past your thighs, sleeves hanging low. You wrap your arms around yourself instinctively, inhaling the scent baked into the fabric.

You step out of the bathroom, warm skin wrapped in softness—Joel’s shirt, pulled from the hook behind the door. It’s not the one Tommy had folded for you. It’s not even one either of them offered.

You just… took it.

It hangs loose over your frame, the sleeves swallowing your hands. Paired with the sweatpants—drawstring cinched tight at your waist—you feel strangely small. Hidden. Safe.

You walk barefoot into the main room, fingers tucked into the hem of the shirt. Your hair is still damp, clinging to your neck.

Tommy’s sitting at the table, lacing up his boots. Jacket already on. About to leave.

Joel is leaning back in his chair, cradling a mug in one hand. His gaze finds you the moment you walk in—and stays there.

Not moving. Not blinking.

Tommy glances up at the sound of your footsteps. 

You hesitate, arms tightening around yourself just slightly. “It’s… all a bit big but…” you say quietly, eyes flicking to him. “Uhm… thank you, Tommy.”

His gaze dips over the outfit—familiar fabric. Joel’s shirt. “No problem, Bambi,” he says with a soft smile. “We’ll find you proper clothes real soon.”

Joel doesn’t say anything.

But you feel his attention settle on the shirt. The way it drapes over your frame. The way you picked his without being told. Something shifts in his eyes, he’s got that look again—like you’re already his, and now you’ve confirmed it.

He sets his mug down and rises to his feet slowly.

“You hungry?” he asks, voice calm. “We kept your plate.”

You nod.

And when he walks past you to reheat the food, his hand brushes gently along your back. Barely there.

You eat slowly, the warmth of the food grounding you more than you expect.

The cabin feels quiet this morning. Still. The kind of stillness that hints at routine, at repetition. You watch as Tommy zips up his jacket, slings a rifle over his shoulder like it’s second nature.

He moves with practiced rhythm. Comfortable. Like he’s done this a hundred times before.

And you wonder—what is this?

What do they do all day?

How far do they go?

Where do you fit into that rhythm?

You swallow your bite, fingers tightening slightly around your fork.

“Tommy?” you ask, voice quiet, gentle—like it’s not even your place to know where he goes. 

He turns, halfway to the door. “Yeah?”

You hesitate for a moment.

“Where are you going?”

He pauses, then lets out a small breath, turning fully to face you.

“Just out on a run,” he says. “Checkin’ the perimeter, makin’ sure the traps are still set. Gotta keep this place safe.”

You nod, looking down again.

It’s not the answer that matters. It’s the fact that you asked.

Joel glances at you from across the room, something flickering in his expression. You don’t see it—but Tommy does.

“Joel’ll stay with you,” Tommy adds after a beat. “You’ll be alright.”

You nod again, smaller this time.

Joel, still watching, sets your reheated plate down in front of you and murmurs, “You can ask things like that, y’know.”

You blink up at him.

Joel’s voice is warm. Steady. But there’s a weight under it.

“You live here now, Bambi,” he says. “That makes this your place too.”

And something about that… feels final.

The door clicks shut behind Tommy, and for the first time since last night—it’s just you and Joel.

The quiet returns, thicker now. It settles in the cabin like fog.

Joel clears his throat as he moves to the sink, rinsing your empty plate. “You eat good?”

You nod. “Yeah. Thank you.”

He glances at you over his shoulder. “You’re polite. That’s good.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

He dries his hands and leans against the counter, just watching you for a moment. Not in a way that makes you shrink—more like he’s thinking something he’s not saying.

Then, his voice lowers slightly. “You look better.”

You blink up at him.

“In clean clothes,” he adds, gesturing to the shirt you took. “In mine.”

Your face warms. You hug your arms across your stomach.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to take it.”

He shakes his head, stepping toward you. “Don’t be sorry. I like it.” 

Joel’s closer now, only a few feet away.

The fire cracks gently. Rain starts tapping at the windows. The outside world dulls, disappears.

“You tired?” he asks.

You shrug. “A little.”

Joel nods toward the couch. “Wanna rest? I’ll sit with you a while. Won’t talk if you don’t want me to.”

You hesitate.

But you nod.

He sits first, leaning back on the cushions, legs spread. He pats the space beside him.

“C’mere.”

You sit beside him slowly, careful not to brush too close. But the couch is small, and your shoulder rests against his bicep.

His warmth seeps into you.

His scent as well.

You don’t speak. You just sit there, soaking in the quiet.

And then—Joel shifts slightly.

His hand lifts. Not fast, not forceful. Just rises and curls gently over the back of your neck. His thumb brushes the edge of your jaw.

You turn your head slightly, looking up at him.

“You okay?” he asks, voice lower now. Almost a whisper.

You nod. “Mhm.”

And you mean it.

For the first time in a long time, you feel okay.

Joel leans in just enough that you feel his breath against your temple.

“You don’t ever have to be scared with me.”

He presses a kiss to your temple. Barely.

And it lingers longer than it should.

Joel's hand remains at the back of your neck, thumb brushing absentmindedly at your hairline, slow and steady. The kind of touch meant to soothe. But it does more than that.

It roots you. Tethers you. Pulls you closer to something you don’t quite understand yet.

You don’t think about it when you shift. Just a soft movement—turning into him, resting your temple against his chest.

You didn’t mean to invite anything.

But Joel took it as one. 

Then his arm wraps around your waist, firm and deliberate, pulling you the rest of the way in until you’re practically in his lap.

Your thighs straddle his. His palm spreads across the small of your back.

You freeze for a moment—not out of fear, but surprise. Your hands rest flat on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath them.

Joel doesn’t move.

He just watches you. His eyes low. Lidded. Dark.

“You okay?” he asks again, voice like gravel and smoke.

You nod, slower this time.

“Good,” he says.

His other hand comes up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing just under your eye. His gaze flicks across your face—your lips, your throat, your lashes. He’s not pretending to be subtle anymore.

“You’re so soft,” he murmurs, almost to himself.

You swallow.

His fingers trail along your jaw, then down to your collarbone—his shirt hanging off one shoulder, slipping just enough to expose skin.

He doesn’t rush. Doesn’t push, but his grip on your waist tightens.

And when he leans in again—closer this time, his nose brushing your cheek—he whispers,

“Feel good, don’t it? Bein’ taken care of?”

You nod before you realize you’re doing it.

Joel smiles at that, knowing what he’s causing you while you’re sitting on him. The second your body suddenly starts reacting, he clocks it. 

Not to mock you or shame you. He uses it to train you. 

You feel… safe. Anchored.

But also— Something else.

A pressure. A warmth that’s begun to build under your skin. Between your thighs. Inside you.

You shift again, just a little.

And that’s when you feel it.

Him.

Hard. Solid beneath you.

Your breath hitches, and your thighs instinctively press together over his. Your body feels strange—hot, sensitive, like it’s humming. And you don’t understand it fully. But it’s there.

Joel doesn’t move. 

His voice cuts through the silence,  his voice—low, rough around the edges- curls into your ear like smoke. “Somethin’ bothering you, Bambi?”

You blink slowly, your brow furrowing.

You don’t want to lie.

So you nod. Just once. Tiny.

Joel hums quietly as his palm strokes slowly down your spine.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “I thought so.”

You shift again, uncomfortable, but not wanting to leave. Wanting something else. Something you don’t have a name for.

Joel tilts his head, eyes dragging over your flushed cheeks, parted lips.

“Need me to take care of that, Bambi?”

You glance up, eyes wide, searching his face for the answer—because you’re not sure what’s happening to your body, only that it feels overwhelming.

You’re hoping he knows the answer.

Because you surely don’t.

So you nod again, causing Joel to smile.

He takes your hand gently and guides it down, resting it over the hard line straining beneath his jeans. The heat of him throbs through the fabric, solid and undeniable.

“Feel what you do to me?” he asks, voice low, roughened with restraint.

You blink, fingers twitching slightly against the pressure. You can’t speak. You just look at him—uncertain, dazed.

Joel’s hips roll up, slow and heavy, grinding against your palm as his grip tightens on your wrist.

You gasp—sharp and surprised—and immediately drop your gaze, cheeks burning.

He catches your chin with two fingers, tilting your face back to his.

“Uh-uh,” he murmurs. “No shame in that.”

You look up at him, breath shaky, and he smiles again—gently, reassuring.

“Your body’s reactin’ the same way to me. That’s a good thing, baby.”

His hand drifts lower, slipping beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing over your bare stomach. Then lower past the waistband of your sweatpants.

“You’re not doin’ anything wrong. You’re just learnin’. I’ll teach you everything—nice and slow.”

He moves slowly. 

And when his fingers slip past the edge of your panties, you tense—not from fear, but from something deeper. Something pulling.

“Shhh,” he soothes. “That’s it. Just let me.”

His hand finds the warmth between your legs—already sticky, slick, and aching. And he groans under his breath.

“Fuck,” he whispers. “You really needed this, didn’t you, Bambi?”

You whimper. Your hips twitch without your permission.

He strokes you slowly, just enough to build the pressure. Drawing circles with enough pressure.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” he whispers against your temple. “Told you I’d take care of you.”

Your hands clutch his shoulders, and your voice breaks on a breathy plea:

“Please—Joel—please…”

And god, he loves it.

His lips curl against your skin.“There she is,” he murmurs, picking up the pace just enough to make your thighs shake. “Beggin’ so sweet. Didn’t even have to teach you.”

You press your face against his neck, trying to stay quiet, but every touch burns. Every movement tightens something inside you that you didn’t know was waiting.

Joel keeps whispering.

“That’s it, Bambi. Doing so good for me” 

His fingers slide lower—slick, wet, so sensitive that your hips jolt. He strokes you slowly, gently, like he’s memorizing your every twitch.

“There you go, baby,” he whispers, “You just stay with me. Let me feel how good you are.”

You make a sound, quiet and shaky at first. But when his fingers circle just right, a soft moan escapes before you can stop it.

Joel groans at the sound. “Goddamn.”

You press your face against his neck, biting your lip, but the sounds keep slipping out—wet, breathless, desperate little whimpers that only make him touch you deeper, slower.

And outside—

Tommy freezes halfway up the porch steps.

He hears it.

Muffled, but clear.

Your voice.

High and soft and needy.

A moan. Then another. The kind of sound no one makes unless someone’s got their hand deep between their legs—and Tommy knows exactly what Joel is doing with you

He stands there, jaw tight, heart pounding. Heat spreading beneath his ribs… and lower.

Joel beat him to it.

He fucking knew it would happen. Knew Joel was soft on you the moment you stepped out in his clothes, all wide eyes and soft thank-yous. But he didn’t think Joel would take it this soon.

And now, standing on the other side of the door, Tommy hears you cry out softly again.

He presses a hand against the wall beside the door. Breath heavy. His cock throbs behind the zipper of his jeans.

Fucking Joel.

A growl curls in his chest, low and frustrated. He wants to be the one inside. He wants to see your face. He wants to hear you say his name like that.

And next time— He will.

⟡──────────────⟡

Guess next time it's Tommy's turn...

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[hope-for-the-planet]

What if there's already nothing left to save? There's microplastics in the clouds and soil and our blood and brains. Climate disasters and warming are happening faster than scientists thought it would and all the governments in the whole world are just protecting the corporations and billionaires that are causing this. We're not safe, too much irriversable damage has been done already and its getting worse even more and I'm so scared. We could hit so many tipping points that will kill everyone very soon if things dont change completely from how it is now. I'm only in high school I just want a future. Please tell me I have a future

Hi Anon,

I received a bunch of asks similar to this one over the last several days, and I’m not sure if they are all from you or just a lot of people feeling similarly—but I’m going to try to cover them all here.

First, you still have a future. Full stop. And if you don’t want to take it from me, take it from actual NASA climate scientist Kate Marvel, who said “I unequivocally reject, scientifically and personally, that children are somehow doomed to an unhappy life”.

The future may be harder and more complicated than we would have envisioned without the obstacle of climate impacts—it will certainly be different. But it can absolutely still be full of joy and fulfillment and happiness.

Climate change is not a switch that gets flipped when we reach a certain threshold and then almost everyone dies or lives in a post apocalyptic disaster-movie reality. Climate impacts mean a gradual increase in the difficulty of meeting everyone’s needs, mitigating increasing natural disasters, preserving vital ecosystems, etc. as the climate gets warmer. Tipping points may accelerate that change, but it's still not a matter of a "human society kill switch".

Second, I’m so sorry you are feeling this way. I’m sorry that you feel like your future has been taken from you before it’s even started, I’m sorry that you feel betrayed by the generations that came before you. I can’t imagine how hard it must be to be a high schooler right now, entering into adulthood at a time when the world is in such turmoil without the years of adult life experience to give some buffering perspective.

I know that looking at all the progress we still need to make it seems impossible that we will get anywhere close to where we need to be—but when I was in high school the idea that we would make as much progress as we have right now seemed laughably impossible. In my high school reality carbon capture was a sci-fi idea, electric cars were basically nonexistent, clean energy was such a negligible drop in the bucket that no one really believed could ever meet a significant portion of our energy needs, and climate change was generally considered a low-priority, "tree-hugger" issue if people even believed it was real.

The idea that we would have this much popular support, this much worldwide government action, this much investment and progress in clean energy and other climate solutions would have made my high school self cry with disbelieving happiness.

Every tenth of a degree of warming that we avoid will make life in the future measurably easier. We’ve already shifted that needle from 4 degrees to 2.7 in just a couple of decades. We need to keep pushing, but we are making progress and we have already steered the world away from the worst and most apocalyptic climate impacts.

Just getting this far is incredible, heroic work. That is millions of real humans that have been saved from death and poverty, that is an entire planet of people whose lives will be better than they would have been otherwise.

There is still a beautiful, vibrant, complex, life-giving world out there to save. Things will be different, the world will be different, but there is still a future to look forward to. And I would bet that when you've been out of high school for a couple of decades, the future you'll look back from will have seen a lot more progress than you're expecting right now.

(PS Just as a final side note, if you're feeling spiraling climate anxiety all the time, I would really encourage you to reach out to friends, family, or a therapist for support. Any kind of anxiety--climate related or not--can have a really awful impact on your mental health and we all need extra help sometimes (speaking as a very anxious person myself))

[solxamber]

Signed, Sealed, Bonded || Jade Leech

Being an Esper is hard. Finding a Guide is harder. Somehow, the only one who can handle you is Jade Leech, who is both the best and worst thing that has ever happened to you.

or: Guideverse AU!

Series Masterlist

So, picture this: You wake up, make yourself some coffee, look outside the window… and BAM—a glowing hell portal is vomiting out nightmare creatures like it’s Black Friday at the Underworld’s Walmart.

No big deal. Just another Tuesday.

This is life now. The universe is one big, unstable loot box, and sometimes, instead of daily struggles like taxes or existential dread, you get eldritch horrors trying to redecorate your city with human remains.

And that’s why Espers and Guides exist.

Espers are the special little guys (derogatory) with godlike powers and a tendency to explode if left unattended. They punch things, obliterate monsters, and generally keep civilization from crumbling like a stale cookie.

But Espers have one teeny, tiny problem. A small, insignificant, itsy-bitsy little flaw—

Espers have a fun little self-destruct feature where, if they overuse their powers and aren’t calmed down properly afterward, they go berserk and start turning cities into craters.

Whoops.

That’s where Guides come in—people with the power to keep Espers from self-destructing and turning the planet into a post-apocalyptic wasteland. They are the Espers’ emotional support humans. Their job is to keep Espers stable, sane, and not prone to going Godzilla-mode on a bad day.

Cool system, right? Makes sense? Keeps society from crumbling?

Yeah, except there’s a problem.

The problem is you.

You are the single strongest Esper on the planet. SSS-Class. Top of the charts. The kind of power that makes scientists scream and military generals start sweating through their uniforms. If Espers were trading cards, you’d be the one people would sell their kidneys for.

There’s just one little issue.

You… cannot be guided.

Like, at all.

Every time a top-ranking Guide tries to do their job, your body reacts like you just swallowed a fork.

S-Class Guide tries to guide you? You feel like you’ve swallowed a beehive.

A-Class Guide reaches out? Your skin crawls like you’re being haunted by the ghosts of bad life choices.

Government’s best, most elite SSS Guide gives it a shot? You feel like throwing up and committing a crime, but you can’t decide which one first.

Basically, your Esper powers took one look at every high-ranking Guide and said, “I’d rather die.”

The entire world is losing its shit over this.

The government is stressed. Scientists are conducting emergency research at 3 AM. High-ranking Guides are offended because how dare you reject their very expensive, very prestigious guidance?

Nobody knows why.

Is it a genetic anomaly? A cosmic joke? Are the gods simply looking down at you and laughing? Science is baffled. The government is stressed. At this point, your mere existence is a “can we patch this in the next update?” level of disaster.

You’re a walking nuclear reactor with no off-switch. And people are starting to panic.

And meanwhile, you’re just standing there, the world’s most unstable walking nuke, trying not to sneeze too hard in case you accidentally vaporize a small country.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine.

It’s absolutely not fine.

Because if they don’t find a Guide who can actually handle you soon…

You’re going to go berserk.

And when an SSS-Class Esper goes berserk? Well. You know those fantasy novels where an ancient dragon wakes up and annihilates an entire civilization in one breath? That, but worse.

You had been this close to blacking out.

It wasn’t supposed to be this hard. You were an SSS-Class Esper, for crying out loud. You could sneeze and flatten a city block. But that Gate had been a nightmare, and without proper guidance, your body was losing its mind. Your veins felt like molten lava, your hands wouldn’t stop shaking, and your head was pounding with the kind of stress headache that could legally qualify as an assassination attempt.

So, like any responsible, law-abiding Esper who didn’t want to be put down like an unruly dog, you dragged yourself to the Guidance Center.

The moment you stepped inside, they immediately threw their best Guide at you—a fellow SSS-Class, the crème de la crème, the poster child of the entire system.

“Let’s begin,” they said, voice dripping with confidence, as if you weren’t already suffering. They reached out, their hands warm as they pressed against your skin.

And then.

Oh, God.

It hit you like a truck full of nausea and existential horror. Your stomach flipped so violently you actually gagged. Your muscles screamed in protest, every cell in your body rejecting the touch like a bad Tinder match.

You scrambled backward so fast you almost ate floor.

The SSS-Class Guide stood there, horrifically offended.

"Are you serious?" They demanded, arms crossed like a petulant child. "Again?"

You barely heard them over the sound of your own labored breathing because Wow. That had been unpleasant.

So now you were curled up on the floor of the Guidance Center, shaking from both overexertion and the delightful aftereffects of a guide touch that had made you want to throw yourself into oncoming traffic.

The SSS-Class Guide was still watching you, arms crossed, debating whether they should be more concerned about your wellbeing or their ego.

Which is exactly when Jade Leech walked in.

There was a pause.

Then a slow, deliberate click of polished shoes as he stepped toward you, tilting his head.

“…Are they supposed to look like that?” he mused aloud.

“No,” said the SSS-Class Guide, deeply unamused.

Jade hummed thoughtfully before crouching beside you, resting a hand on your shoulder. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t hesitant.

And for the first time since your powers awakened, you didn’t want to fling yourself off a building.

Your whole body went limp.

The shaking stopped. The nausea faded.

Your mind, which had been screaming at a constant 200% volume since you turned eighteen and acquired your powers, went quiet.

It was the most blissful thing you had ever felt in your entire life.

The SSS-Class Guide was gaping at you like you had just committed high treason.

"Are you kidding me?" they spluttered. "Him?"

And then, with a huff, they stomped away, absolutely furious that you—the greatest Esper in history, the walking apocalypse—had rejected them but accepted some random nobody.

You, meanwhile, felt clear-headed for the first time in years.

You looked at Jade—at his unreadable expression, at the sharpness of his gaze.

And then you asked, voice hoarse but steady, "What’s your name?"

His lips curled into a polite smile. "Jade Leech."

"And your grade?"

He tilted his head slightly, as if entertained by the question.

“B-Class.”

Silence.

You stared at him.

Then, before you could stop yourself, you started laughing.

Of course this was happening. Of course the universe gave you a Guide you could accidentally kill.

What an absolute joke.

And yet…

You didn’t let go.

Jade Leech was the key to your survival.

Not in the romantic, fated, "I would perish without you, my love," kind of way (you weren't that dramatic, despite what your coworkers said). No, this was purely a matter of self-preservation.

For years, you had been operating like a high-powered, government-issued, barely-functioning time bomb.

Every time you subdued a gate, your body veered dangerously close to going berserk, and the only thing keeping you from breaking reality into tiny, apocalyptic pieces was the occasional half-hearted guidance session that felt about as effective as slapping a band-aid on a leaking nuclear reactor.

It was not ideal.

But now?

Now you had Jade.

Jade, the B-Class Guide who had accidentally waltzed into your life, touched your shoulder, and immediately rewired your entire nervous system.

For the first time since awakening as an Esper, you had felt calm. Like your power wasn’t on the verge of ripping itself apart. Like your own body wasn’t actively rejecting the guidance meant to stabilize you.

And it was incredible.

So, being the responsible and absolutely not impulsive person that you were, you did the only logical thing.

You decided to bribe him with a gift and ask him to temporarily bind himself to you.

Look, it wasn’t permanent.

Permanent bonding was a whole different beast.

If you bonded with Jade permanently, that was it. Game over. No take-backs, no re-dos. No guiding anyone else for the rest of his life.

Espers could still receive guidance from others, sure. But Guides? They could never guide anyone else again.

Which—haha, wow,—that had never caused any problems, ever. Definitely not an entirely predictable storm of jealousy and possessiveness among Guides who suddenly couldn’t tolerate the idea of their Esper ever touching another person.

So, no. You were not going to ask him chain himself to you for eternity. That would be both cruel and incredibly selfish.

But a temporary bond?

A temporary bond would greatly reduce the risk of you accidentally draining him to the point of no return. It would give you the stability to actually push your limits without fear of self-destruction. And most importantly, it would allow both of you to thrive.

It was perfect.

Which was why, two days later, you found yourself standing at the entrance of the Guidance Center once again, clutching a neatly wrapped gift like it was a sacrificial offering.

You marched inside with the confidence of a person who had rehearsed this conversation in their head a thousand times.

And then promptly lost all of that confidence the second Jade turned to face you, smiling like he already knew exactly what you were about to say.

"Back so soon?" he asked, his voice perfectly polite. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

You cleared your throat and forced yourself to act like a normal human being.

“I wanted to thank you,” you said, shoving the box into his hands before you could second-guess yourself. “For the other day.”

Jade’s eyes flickered with something sharp and unreadable as he took the box, his fingers brushing lightly against yours.

Then, before your already struggling brain could catch up to the recklessness of what you were about to do, you pushed forward.

“I also had a proposal for you.”

Jade tilted his head, looking far too entertained.

“I see,” he said. “Do tell.”

You inhaled deeply.

"Would you be interested in forming a temporary bond with me?"

There. You said it.

Now, all you had to do was wait for him to either:

A) Refuse outright because it was too much effort.

B) Agree immediately because having the strongest Esper in existence on a leash would give him unfathomable influence.

What you did not expect was for him to smile.

Not a normal smile. Not a polite, professional, "oh wow, what a fascinating suggestion," kind of smile.

No.

This was something else.

A slow, deliberate, sharp-edged thing.

Jade stepped closer, gaze glinting with quiet amusement.

"And what," he murmured, voice too smooth, too knowing, "would you be willing to offer me in return?"

You blinked.

Oh.

Oh, you might be in deep shit.

It had been weeks.

Weeks of asking Jade to temporarily bind himself to you. Weeks of bargaining, negotiating, and trying to convince him that this wasn’t some tragic, toxic love story where the frail Guide got used up like an expired battery. Weeks of him smiling at you like you were a particularly amusing lab rat scrambling against the walls of a maze.

And yet.

Despite all of that—he still guided you.

He still stepped in when your brain felt like it was melting from the inside out, still pressed a steady hand against your skin like it was the easiest thing in the world, still whispered, “Don’t fight it. Just relax.”

Which was a very funny thing to say to someone who could literally kill you by accident.

And that was the problem.

Because he wasn’t bound to you.

Which meant that if you drained him too much—if you accidentally pushed him past his limits—there would be no failsafe.

And if that happened—if you were even a fraction too reckless—

He would die.

And you would go to jail.

And, even worse, you would probably cry.

So, obviously, the rational thing to do was to pull away whenever you felt like you were taking too much.

Which brings you to now.

Jade had been guiding you for forty-five minutes.

FORTY-FIVE. MINUTES.

An ungodly amount of time. A suicidal amount of time.

You could already see the signs of fatigue in him. His touch had grown warmer, heavier, his breaths had slowed into something almost too steady.

He was getting tired.

Which meant it was time to get the hell out of here before you became a murderer.

You twisted, trying to sit up, and—like the absolute menace he was—Jade simply… swung his legs over yours, caging you beneath him like some deranged, smug, lanky cryptid that refused to let you escape.

You froze.

He smiled.

That sharp, infuriating, absolutely unhinged smile.

"Now, now," he murmured, voice sickeningly patient, "where do you think you're going?"

You stared at him in horror.

"You've been guiding me for almost an hour," you hissed, your muscles tense with the effort of not launching him across the room. "I refuse to let you die because you’re too stubborn to let me leave."

Jade tilted his head, considering.

"Hm."

You blinked.

"Hm"???

You had just laid out the possibility of a tragic demise and all he had to say was ‘hm’???

"What the hell does that mean?" you demanded.

Jade leaned in slightly, pressing his fingers against your neck, his touch featherlight.

"I wonder," he mused, eyes glinting with something that looked too much like amusement, "do you think perhaps you are underestimating me?"

"Underestimating you?" You nearly choked on your own disbelief. "Jade, you are a B-Class Guide. I could literally snap you in half like a goddamn glow stick."

"And yet," he said smoothly, "I am still here."

Your eye twitched.

"That is not the flex you think it is—"

"Shhh," he murmured, pressing his fingers against your temple. "Relax. Just a little longer."

You wanted to argue. You really, really did.

But the second his touch deepened the guiding, your entire body sagged under the weight of exhaustion.

You hated how much you trusted it.

You hated that, in the end, you let him win.

Because as much as you wanted to fight him, as much as you wanted to break free and flee the room—

You needed this.

And he knew it.

Which was why he was smiling so much.

The absolute menace.

Today, you did something very dangerous.

No, not fighting another Gate. Not risking your life for the safety of others. Not even getting guided by a man who was one unfortunate sneeze away from becoming a tragic obituary.

No, you did something far worse.

You asked Jade Leech what he wanted in return for keeping you alive.

It was a reasonable question! A necessary question! Because at this point, the man was essentially your life support, and it felt a little irresponsible to just assume he’d be happy with some gift baskets and heartfelt thank-you notes. If you were going to keep depending on him, you needed to know what he wanted.

So you asked.

And the menace smiled.

Which immediately sent your self-preservation instincts screaming.

That was never a good sign. Jade’s smiles were like sharks in shallow water—unsettling, unnatural, and a clear warning that something was about to go very, very wrong.

You braced yourself.

And then he said:

"A nature trail."

You stared at him.

And blinked.

And then stared at him some more.

Because surely you had misheard him.

“A nature trail,” you repeated slowly, because there was no possible way that was all he wanted. You had prepared for blackmail. You had budgeted for bribes. Hell, you had been willing to break the bank if it meant keeping him around (not to brag, but the government paid you stupidly well for constantly risking your life). And yet, out of all the possible insane, ominous, power-hungry demands he could’ve made—

He was asking for a casual stroll through the wilderness?

Jade nodded, the picture of serenity. “Yes.”

"That’s it?" You squinted at him, like maybe if you looked hard enough, you’d find some hidden, sinister agenda buried in his expression. "That's all you want? Not money? Not status? Not, I don’t know, government secrets?"

Jade’s lips twitched, his amusement almost palpable. “For now.”

For now.

For now???

You triple checked that he was being serious, eyed him with the kind of deep, unblinking suspicion normally reserved for politicians and people who ate their cereal without milk, but all he did was nod serenely.

And so, finally, reluctantly, completely aware that you were probably walking into some elaborate trap—

You sighed and muttered, "Sure. What the hell."

It was almost alarming how much fun you were having.

For once, you weren’t dealing with the constant, soul-crushing sensation of your own mind and body trying to rip each other apart like two rabid raccoons fighting over a single McDonald’s fry.

For once, you could just exist without the underlying fear of accidentally exploding something—or someone—if you weren’t careful.

And as it turned out, existing was kind of nice.

You took the time to smell the flowers (literally, because Jade had shoved one under your nose and said, “Tell me, do you also detect the faintest hint of decay?” which was an incredibly alarming sentence but a nice flower).

You watched as little woodland creatures scampered through the underbrush, entirely unbothered by the fact that an SSS-Class Esper and a B-Class Guide were just casually strolling through their home like a scenic couple in a nature documentary. And honestly?

It was peaceful. Disturbingly peaceful.

But the real sight—the real discovery—was Jade himself.

You had never seen him like this before. Completely in his element. He had dumped the entirety of your picnic basket into your arms without hesitation and was now roaming freely, examining plants with the intense curiosity of a man who had just found Atlantis.

Every few minutes, he’d pause and rattle off some absurdly specific nature fact at you, like, “This particular plant releases a toxin that causes temporary blindness if ingested. Isn’t that fascinating?” or “Did you know that otters sometimes use tools to crack open shellfish? Much like humans, they have a preference for certain objects. Some even carry the same rock with them for years.”

You had absolutely no idea why you found this so entertaining.

Maybe it was the way he spoke, all smooth enthusiasm and quiet amusement. Maybe it was the way he moved, effortless, unhurried, utterly unbothered by anything except whatever flora had captured his attention next. Or maybe—God help you—it was just him.

Not that you’d ever admit that. You’d rather eat your own boots.

Still, you couldn’t help but watch as he suddenly stilled. His gaze snapped toward something in the distance, eyes gleaming with open delight, and you knew—instinctively, immediately—that something was about to go down.

And sure enough—

"Ah."

That single, quiet syllable was so ominous you had to physically fight the urge to take a step back.

Then, Jade turned toward you, expression eerily composed despite the unmistakable excitement in his gaze, and said, “Do you see that mushroom?”

You followed his gaze toward the completely ordinary-looking tree. And then you squinted.

There, just barely within sight, was a mushroom.

A mushroom that looked like every other goddamn mushroom you had passed on this trip.

And yet.

Based on the way Jade’s entire soul had just left his body in pure, unfiltered joy, you could only assume it was some rare, once-in-a-lifetime god of the fungi.

You watched as he immediately took his phone out, snapping so many pictures you were half convinced he was going to submit them to a mushroom appreciation forum.

Then he paused.

And the exhilaration on his face dimmed—just slightly.

Because, unfortunately for him, the mushroom in question was just barely out of reach.

And you—a fool, an absolute clown, an irredeemable dumbass—

Put your bags down.

Walked up to him.

And lifted him up.

For a single, terrifying moment, there was silence.

Jade froze. His hands hovered in midair, like even he couldn’t quite believe what was happening.

Then, slowly, he reached forward.

Plucked the mushroom from its resting place.

And you—practically sweating bullets at the realization of what you had just done without even thinking about it—lowered him back onto solid ground.

The first thing he did was examine the sample like it was the most precious object in the entire world. The second thing he did was glance up at you—not with his usual smug amusement, not with teasing mirth, but something else entirely.

A slow, quiet smile.

Warm. Gentle. Uncharacteristically soft.

And that was the exact moment you thought, “Fuck my life, I’m doomed.”

Without another word, you picked your bags back up and followed him to the next area.

The Gate had been particularly easy to suppress today—by which you meant no spontaneous explosions, no sudden existential dread, and, most importantly, no feeling like your brain had been wrung out like a wet dishcloth. All in all, a successful day.

So when you spotted Jade afterward, you figured you wouldn’t need much from him. A little guidance, maybe. Some grounding. Nothing too serious.

What you did not expect, however, was to immediately slump against him like a Victorian maiden succumbing to the vapors.

At first, Jade visibly tensed. His muscles coiled, and he took a sharp breath—like he had genuinely thought you had just dropped dead in his arms.

But then he glanced down.

And instead of finding you on the verge of unconsciousness due to Esper-induced burnout, he found you…completely at peace.

Relaxed.

Asleep.

And oh.

Oh, this was interesting.

Jade stilled, the way a hunter does when something rare and unexpected steps into their sights. His lips quirked, amusement flickering across his face as he tilted his head, watching you with the same fascination he reserved for poisonous plants and particularly lively prey.

You had just…collapsed. Right into his arms.

Voluntarily.

Slowly—very slowly, like he was testing the weight of a particularly fragile glass sculpture—he adjusted his stance, shifting just enough so you could lean more comfortably against him.

And when you made a soft, barely audible sigh of contentment—an actual sigh of contentment—he almost laughed.

Jade glanced around, taking in the others in the vicinity. There were still a few agents packing up equipment, cataloging monster remains, finishing the usual post-Gate cleanup. No one seemed to be paying particular attention to your current predicament.

He debated waking you.

For about half a second.

Then, instead of nudging you upright, instead of rousing you from your accidental nap, he merely settled in more comfortably, adjusted his grip, and decided:

"A little while more wouldn’t hurt."

The first time you met Floyd Leech was…an experience.

Not in the way people say, “Oh, yeah, skydiving was an experience!” or “That seafood buffet really did a number on my stomach, what an experience!” No. This was more of a “I just survived a category five hurricane with nothing but a pool noodle and sheer willpower” kind of experience.

You knew Jade's twin was an Esper, and you'd heard the rumors about Floyd’s personality. Some people said he was unpredictable, others called him a walking natural disaster with an attention span that could either last three seconds or three months. B Rank Esper Floyd Leech, SSS Rank Menace.

And then, by sheer misfortune (or fate, depending on whose side you were on), you both ended up suppressing the same Gate.

Hearing him laugh as he shredded a monster like it was nothing but a chew toy was unsettling even for you. You had seen horrors beyond human comprehension, had fought creatures made of shadows and teeth, had experienced the kind of pain that would make a lesser being crumble—and yet.

Yet.

The way Floyd’s eyes locked onto you in the middle of the battlefield, the way his grin stretched wider, wider, as if he had just found a new favorite thing to play with—your instincts screamed at you. Your fight-or-flight response hit so hard you almost accidentally activated your Esper abilities on pure reflex.

(And the worst part? You were technically stronger than him. That did not make you feel any safer.)

Then, as if to truly cement his status as an absolute enigma, he took one look at you, tilted his head, and said:

"Ooooh~! A shrimpy!"

A shrimpy.

He just…he called you shrimpy.

And the worst part? It was kind of funny. Actually, it was lowkey adorable.

So you just. Didn’t stop him.

Which he took as an invitation, apparently, because the next thing you knew, he was slapping an arm around your shoulders like you were old friends. And with zero hesitation, he dragged you along as you both exited the Gate, whistling a happy little tune as if he hadn’t just been reveling in combat two minutes ago.

You barely had time to process what had just happened before you saw Jade.

Jade’s gaze looked…sharper.

It wasn’t obvious—he was still smiling, still polite, still the ever-composed Guide who had saved your ass on multiple occasions—but there was a distinct flicker of something behind his eyes as he looked at Floyd practically draping himself over you.

He didn’t say anything. Didn’t frown. Didn’t tell Floyd off.

He simply stepped forward, placed a hand on your shoulder, and gently pulled you away.

And just like that, the weight of Floyd’s arm disappeared, replaced by the steadier, more deliberate touch of his twin.

And Floyd?

Floyd just looked between the two of you.

Then, he grinned.

Then, he laughed.

And then, with all the enthusiasm of a man about to cause absolute chaos, he threw his head back and cackled.

"Ooooh, Azul is gonna LOVE this~!"

And before you could even begin to ask what the hell that meant, he waved and walked off toward a Guide—one who was probably prepared to deal with his absolute insanity.

You barely had time to recover before Jade gestured for you to sit.

Guidance was nothing new at this point. Usually, he just held your hand, grounded you with a touch, let his presence stabilize your energy until you were back to normal.

But today.

Today, he touched your foreheads together.

Your breath caught.

His hand was light against your jaw, but firm enough to keep you still. His forehead pressed against yours, close enough that you could feel his breath ghosting against your lips.

Your eyes fluttered shut on pure reflex, your fists clenching as if that would somehow stop the sudden, ridiculous way your pulse spiked.

This was fine.

This was fine.

Your mind was clear. Your energy was balanced. You were not thinking about his breath on your lips.

You absolutely, one hundred percent, were not thinking about how his voice, so soft, so deceptively gentle, murmured:

"Breathe."

You were so, so doomed.

The Gate had been massive—one of the worst ones in years.

It had opened with no warning, no telltale energy fluctuations, nothing. By the time the first responders had arrived, the battlefield was already drenched in blood.

A-class Espers, gone.

S-class Espers, gone.

By the time you had been thrown into the fray, the situation had spiraled so far out of control that your arrival felt less like a strategic decision and more like a last-ditch gamble.

Eight hours.

Eight hours of relentless combat.

Wave after wave, monster after monster, every time you cut one down, another two would replace it.

You had fought until your muscles felt like molten lead, until your vision blurred at the edges, until the very air around you burned with overuse of your own power—until the Gate finally stabilized just enough for you to close it.

And then, you stumbled out.

And everything hurt.

Everything was too much.

The sound of voices, the shifting of energy, the distant cries of the wounded—it all crashed into you like a tidal wave, scraping against your raw, frayed nerves. You were this close to losing control, to snapping under the pressure, to letting your Esper abilities swallow you whole.

But Jade wasn’t here.

Jade, your Guide, the one person who knew how to handle you when you reached your breaking point—wasn’t here.

Apparently, no one had informed him of your involvement in the battle. He was still on his way.

Which meant you were falling apart, and there was no one to catch you.

And so, the SSS-ranked Guide on standby stepped in.

The moment their hands touched you, you recoiled. Their presence was too much, too invasive, too overbearing, like someone trying to force a puzzle piece where it didn’t belong.

But you didn’t have a choice.

Their energy pressed against yours, crushing down, shoving your frayed emotions back into place like jamming a lid onto a boiling pot.

You wanted to throw up.

Your entire body screamed wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if you pushed them away, if you lost control, if you went berserk right here in the aftermath of this bloodbath—people would die.

So you clung to them, shaking, white-knuckled, letting them guide you as best as they could.

And you hoped—prayed—that Jade would get here soon.

When Jade first stabilized you, he had thought of you as entertainment.

It was hilarious, really. The strongest Esper to ever exist, the one the government practically worshiped, the one whose very presence made monsters hesitate—completely helpless without him.

Oh, you could fight. You could tear through Gates like they were made of paper, you could reduce monsters to mist and regrets, but the moment it was over? The moment your power turned inward and tried to rip you apart? Only he could fix it.

Jade had never considered himself sentimental, and certainly not possessive. People were people. They came, they went, they lived, they died. He had met more than a few Espers in his life, had guided his fair share, and yet—none of them had ever needed him. Not the way you did.

And the best part? You were terrified of hurting him.

Absolutely adorable.

Your desperation to keep him safe was comedy gold. You were an SSS-rank nightmare, strong enough to turn city blocks into craters, and yet, the moment he touched you, you flinched like you might break him. You barely let him guide you for more than a few minutes, always watching him like he was made of glass, like he might shatter if you took too much.

Jade had never been one for attachment, so he simply dodged all your attempts at even a temporary bond. What was the point? He liked the little game you two had going on. You kept asking, kept trying to tie him down, and he kept laughing and evading, watching you get more and more frustrated. Too much fun to stop now.

Even when he invited you to the nature trail, it had been on a whim. A little curiosity, a little test. He expected you to sulk in the corner, maybe grumble under your breath about how boring it was, or sigh dramatically like you were suffering for his sake.

Instead, you had participated.

You had followed him through the trees, asked questions, even leaned in close to examine the plants he showed you. And when he couldn’t reach a mushroom, you had—without hesitation, without even thinking—simply lifted him up.

Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That had been the moment something inside him had shifted.

Jade wasn’t sure he liked it.

It was unfamiliar, uncomfortable. Unsettling. A quiet sort of tug, deep in his chest, something that made him pause when he looked at you.

Before, it had been easy to laugh off questions.

"Jade, what’s the deal with you and them?" someone would ask, and he would smirk, deflect, change the subject.

Now?

Now, when people asked, he had to bite back the urge to say, “They’re mine.”

So when he heard about the Gate—eight hours, a battle, an ambush that had already killed dozens before you were called in—

He didn’t hesitate.

He had barely taken the time to grab Floyd, all but shoving him into the driver’s seat. "Drive."

Floyd, ever delighted by drama, had driven like a man possessed. Jade wasn’t entirely sure how they weren’t in a burning wreck by the time they arrived, but at least they got there fast.

And when he stepped onto the battlefield, pushing past medics, ignoring protocol—he saw you.

Sick. Wounded. Barely standing.

In the arms of someone else.

His stomach turned.

Jade had never experienced jealousy before, not in any real way. He was too patient, too controlled, too much of a sadist to truly be envious of anything. But seeing you there, shaking and exhausted, clinging to someone who wasn’t him—

Something ugly coiled in his chest.

For the first time in his life, Jade Leech felt like throwing up.

The moment you saw Jade, it was over for the poor, unfortunate soul currently keeping you upright.

You shoved the deeply offended Guide off you like they were an inconvenience, a minor roadblock between you and salvation. You could apologize later. Right now, your legs were giving out, your head was spinning, and the only thing you knew for certain was that you needed him.

Jade barely had time to react before you reached for him, stumbling forward, barely coherent, barely standing.

And he ran to you.

Jade Leech—calm, composed, unshakable Jade—ran.

You collapsed against him the second he was close enough, clutching him like a man stranded in the desert clutching the first drop of rain. His touch was the only thing keeping you tethered to reality, the only thing that made the burning, suffocating feeling inside you ease just a little.

“Thank you,” you gasped, fingers twisting in the fabric of his uniform, voice barely above a whisper. “Thank you for coming.”

Jade stiffened.

You barely registered it. You were too far gone, too exhausted, too feverish. But if you had been paying attention, you would have seen something rare, something almost unheard of—

Jade Leech looking completely and utterly shocked.

Like he hadn’t expected you to say that. Like he hadn’t expected you to look at him like he was something worth holding onto.

And then, because you were nothing if not a disaster, you giggled—actually giggled, delirious and exhausted and overwhelmed by relief.

“Your face…” you murmured, the edges of your vision darkening. “You look so—”

And then you went completely limp in his arms.

Jade was not panicking.

No, truly, he wasn’t. Panic was an unbecoming emotion, a pointless thing that only clouded one’s judgment. It was inefficient. Wasteful. Jade Leech did not panic.

So when you went completely limp in his arms, when your body sagged against him like a puppet with its strings cut, he did not panic.

He simply—assessed the situation.

He shook you gently, then not-so-gently, but you were completely unresponsive, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. His hands slid over your back, fingers pressing against the pulse points in your wrists, your neck—too fast, too unsteady, too weak.

He tried guiding you, pushing that familiar, stabilizing force into you, but it was like pouring water into a cup that had already shattered—it wasn’t enough.

You needed something more.

Jade hesitated.

For the first time in years, he hesitated.

And then, before he could think better of it, before he could talk himself out of it, he leaned in and kissed you.

It was not soft, nor was it gentle. This was not a kiss meant to be romantic, nor was it something he had ever done before. But kissing—intimate, overwhelming, all-encompassing kissing—had long been known as one of the most effective ways for a Guide to stabilize an Esper.

And Jade had never needed to put in this much effort before.

Your lips were warm beneath his, feverish and trembling. He could feel it the second it worked—your grip on him tightened, fingers twisting in his coat as you gasped against his mouth. A shudder ran through your body as you pulled him closer, kissed him back.

Jade felt something snap.

It was an ugly thing, this feeling in his chest. Sharp-edged and burning. He didn’t know if he was kissing you to help you, to save you—

Or if he was kissing you because he wanted to.

But then—oh, then—his lips curled against yours as a slow, unbearable sense of triumph unfurled inside him. Because you weren’t just kissing him back.

You were kissing him back in front of everyone.

In front of all the other Guides who had spent years chasing after you, aching for the chance to stabilize you, to prove themselves worthy of being your match.

And yet, it was his arms you had collapsed into. His touch that had soothed you. His lips you were parting for, grasping at like he was the only thing keeping you from slipping into the abyss.

Jade had spent months dodging your attempts at forming a temporary bond, laughing as you fumbled for something more than what he was willing to give.

Now, you were clinging to him.

And wasn’t that just the most delicious thing?

Waking up to someone kissing you was new.

Waking up to Jade kissing you, though? That was absolutely not on your bingo card.

Your mind, sluggish from the near-death experience of the century, took a moment to catch up. There was warmth against your lips—soft, careful, lingering. A hand at the back of your neck, cool fingers threading through your hair. The faint scent of damp earth and saltwater, familiar, grounding.

And then, your body caught up with your brain and realized oh, holy shit, that’s Jade.

A normal person would pull away, maybe demand an explanation. Possibly scream.

You?

You wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

Jade let out a noise—half a laugh, half a surprised hum—but he didn’t stop you. If anything, he melted into you, his lips curling into a smile against yours. His hand tightened at your nape, fingers splaying against your back, and when you deepened the kiss, he sighed into your mouth like he had been waiting for you to do it.

That was almost enough to send you straight into cardiac arrest.

When you finally pulled away, you were fully awake, body thrumming with energy. Not just from the guiding—though, yeah, that was part of it—but from the undeniable, inescapable fact that Jade Leech had just kissed you. That you had kissed him back.

Jade didn’t move far. If anything, he leaned in closer, forehead brushing against yours, his breath still warm on your lips. His gaze flickered across your face, taking in the flush burning its way up your cheeks, the way you were still holding onto him like you’d fall apart if you let go.

You wanted to say something, maybe tease him, maybe demand an explanation, but words weren’t exactly functioning right now. You could barely think beyond holy shit that was the best kiss of my life.

Jade, for once, wasn’t smug.

Or, no. He was trying to be. He had the smirk, the casual tone, the playful tilt of his head. But his fingers twitched against your back, his grip just a little too tight. And when he finally spoke, his voice was a fraction softer than usual, a little too careful.

"Would you," he said, "perhaps, be interested in permanently bonding with me?"

You blinked.

Jade Leech. Jade Leech. The same Jade who had dodged every attempt you made at even a temporary bond, who found it hilarious that only he could stabilize you, who treated your guiding sessions like some kind of ongoing game.

That Jade had just asked if you wanted to bond.

Permanently.

Your heart stuttered. His hand was trembling.

He swallowed, like he was waiting for you to say no.

You didn't answer. Not with words, anyway. Instead, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him again.

Jade made a startled sound before melting into you completely, his arms locking around you like he had no plans of letting go. His lips curled into another smile against yours—this time, not smug, but genuine.

Like he had won.

You had asked him eighteen times.

Eighteen.

And, frankly, Jade was getting impatient.

The first time, it had been endearing. You had looked at him with wide, wary eyes, like you thought this was some elaborate joke. You had stammered out a, "You—You're sure? Like, actually sure?" and Jade, who was in a good mood, had simply hummed and said yes.

The second time, it had been amusing. You had grabbed him by the wrist, pulled him aside, and, in a whisper like you were plotting treason, said, "Look, I won’t be mad if you back out. You know that, right? Like, this is a huge deal, and if this was just, y’know, heat of the moment, that’s totally okay. No hard feelings."

The third, fourth, fifth, and so on?

Infuriating.

Jade could not, for the life of him, figure out how to convince you that he meant what he said. Yes, he wanted to bond. Yes, permanently. No, he had not lost his mind.

And yet, here you were, pacing across his living room, your arms crossed, rambling for the nineteenth time about how he still had a choice, how you wouldn’t hold it against him if he didn’t want to go through with it, how he wouldn’t be able to guide anyone else ever again if he bonded to you, how that might be too much to give up.

Jade, stretched out on the couch, chin propped against his palm, sighed.

He had enough patience to last centuries.

But this?

This was getting ridiculous.

"—and I'm just saying," you continued, voice a little frantic, "I've seen Guides get really resentful about it. You could go from stabilizing a hundred people to just me. And you know how bad I get, how it hurts, and I'm not saying you can't handle it, but, like, are you sure? Like, really sure? Because—"

Jade leaned forward, grabbed your collar, and kissed you.

You stumbled, caught off guard, and his lips curled when he felt you tense up before relaxing completely. He kissed you slow, deliberate, like he was trying to make you feel the answer you had refused to believe.

And when he finally pulled away, he let his teeth graze your bottom lip just slightly, smirking when he felt you shiver.

"Does that answer your question?" he asked, voice smooth, teasing.

You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water.

Jade’s smirk widened.

"You're overthinking it," he said, reaching out, gripping your wrist, tugging you closer. "There’s no one who could entertain me quite like you do, you know? Maybe it’s time for a career change. I’ll be your Guide, and yours alone."

Something inside you lurched.

Something possessive.

Jade, yours.

Only yours.

His gaze flickered to your lips. Amused. Challenging.

"So?" he said, voice mocking light, but his fingers tightened around your wrist, his pulse beating just a little too fast. "Are we doing this or not?"

Your breath hitched.

And then, you grabbed him by his collar, yanked him down, and kissed him again.

This time, you bit his lip.

Jade laughed into your mouth—pleased, triumphant—before pulling you against him and kissing you so deeply you felt it in your bones.

And just like that, the bond clicked into place.

Waking up with Jade curled against you was a rare privilege.

For one, he was a light sleeper. Most of the time, you barely shifted and he’d already be watching you like some creepy forest cryptid. But today, he must’ve been exhausted from the bonding because he was still tucked against you, his breathing slow and utterly unguarded.

It was… nice.

Nice enough that you felt unreasonably smug about it.

You shifted just a little, tightening your hold around him, and he hummed in contentment, pressing closer without fully waking up. Unfair. How was this the same Jade who deliberately guided you half the time by whispering things against your lips just to make you flustered?

You could get used to this.

And then it hit you.

You’d bonded. Permanently.

But you had never actually asked him to be yours.

As in, romantically.

Your eyes snapped open. Oh. Oh, you had fumbled.

You knew Jade had agreed to the bond, obviously, but—was he in love with you? Did he see this as just a Guide-Esper partnership? Did you just lock yourself into a lifelong working relationship like some corporate contract??

He slowly stirred and just as he blinked at you, before you could think better of it, you blurted out, "What are we?"

Jade went still.

Like, completely, horrifyingly motionless.

You felt him exhale sharply, his hand twitching against your side, as if physically restraining himself.

For a long moment, he said nothing.

Then, finally, slowly, he pulled back just enough to look at you, and the expression on his face was somewhere between fondness, disbelief, and the soul-crushing realization that he was in love with a complete idiot.

"...Are you serious?" he asked, his voice painfully even.

You hesitated. "...Yes?"

Jade closed his eyes.

He inhaled.

He exhaled.

He inhaled again.

Then, finally, he muttered, "God give me strength."

You frowned. "Look, I’m just saying, you never actually—"

"Do you think I would bond with you permanently if I wasn't in love with you?" he asked, voice slower, more deliberate, as if carefully handling a very stupid but very precious object.

You blinked.

Paused.

And then you felt heat creep up your neck.

"...Oh," you said, a little dumbly.

Jade sighed.

But before he could say anything else, you reached out and pulled him back into your chest.

You hid your face against his hair.

"...Love you too," you mumbled, voice muffled, but he could hear the smile in it.

Jade, after a long beat of silence, finally let out a breathless laugh.

And as you held him close, warm and undeniably happy, he thought, Yup. They’re my dumbass.

Masterlist

[kathaynesart]

Happy Friday! Have some Replica Usagi from my Patreon! It was requested during one of my Question Times a month or so back if I had ever drawn Usagi or planned on brining him into Replica. While I have no intention of actually putting him in the comic I thought it would be fun to draw how he might look in the Rise style. More details under the cut!

I would have likely used Usagi Miyamoto (not Yuichi) who at least has some canon connection to TMNT, which is more in line with my canon-esque goal for Replica. He would have been a Yokai from the Hidden Village in Japan that is still hiding in the bad future timeline. Like canon Usagi, Replica Usagi would be strict, disciplined, very no-nonsense, but forms his bonds through honesty and respect. So uh... I don't think he would like Leo very much at first if they ever did come into contact hahah! He's about 5-6 years older than the turtles and I could see them eventually warming up to each other. He would also slowly realize how Leo's less "formal" way of leading and protecting also has its place. Camaraderie is definitely on the table, but I see him more being a mentor/inspiration to Leo and his brothers rather than a love interest. He's sort of like the honor-bound Splinter they never got to have. This is just my interpretation, but I feel like this might be how Rise (with it's no shipping policy) would probably handle an Usagi inclusion.

I really studied some of the designs of yokai of the more furry variety when trying to figure out Usagi's look. It was a fun challenge because while Rise's style tends to use harder/pointy edges for more masculine characters, Yojimbo's style is naturally very round and soft. It was interesting trying to strike that balance between the two. This is still only a first pass but I am liking it so far. Right now I just have him in his typical samurai attire, since I feel like he would work hard to keep his clothing well cared for even in the bad future timeline. But I might eventually think of a more rugged, post-apocalyptic look for him later on.

[b1eedthefreak]

Just Ride

daryl x reader

warnings: smut, face riding, lowkey sub daryl, yeah…

⸻

It all started because Eugene can’t mind his damn business.

You weren’t even in the room when it happened, which was a blessing and a curse. Because the story reached you through Tara, who was still crying laughing when she told it, and the secondhand embarrassment alone was enough to make you want to move out of Alexandria.

“Dude,” she wheezed, barely able to speak, “Eugene walked in on Rosita. On Abraham.”

You raised a brow. “On Abraham?”

“On. Like. Riding his face. Just full blown porno energy! I swear I’m not lying!”

You stared at her, horrified and already laughing.

“And the best part,” Tara said, “is Eugene trying to explain it like it’s some kind of… military maneuver. Called it a—what did he say?—a reverse frontal oral saddle maneuver. I swear to God.”

You choked. “What the hell does that even mean?”

“Means Rosita was sitting on Abraham’s face and Eugene’s whole worldview shattered,” Tara said. “He was rambling about it to me in the kitchen when Daryl walked by and heard the tail end of it. Just stopped and stared, like he saw a ghost.”

You blinked. “Daryl?”

“Oh yeah,” she nodded. “He heard the words ‘face’ and ‘saddle’ and turned bright red. Never seen that man move so fast… just turned around and booked it.”

At the time, you brushed it off. But later that night, back in your shared room, tucked into your warm little corner of post apocalyptic domestic bliss, you started to notice something… off.

Daryl was quiet. More than usual. Sitting on the edge of the bed, picking at a tear in his jeans, jaw tight like he was thinking hard.

“You okay?” you asked, brushing your hair out in the mirror.

He grunted. “Yeah.”

A beat of silence. Then came,

“Hey… you ever… sit on someone’s face before?”

You froze. Slowly turned around.

“…What?”

Daryl’s face was serious. Practically glowing. He rubbed the back of his neck and stared at the floor.

“Jus’… heard somethin’. Earlier. From Eugene. Somethin’ ‘bout Rosita. An’ Abraham. Tara said she was… y’know. On his face. Thought that was a thing women liked.”

Your jaw dropped, then you burst out laughing.

“Oh my God, Daryl—”

“I ain’t jokin’.” he huffed, crossing his arms, now fully defensive. “I ain’t never seen nothin’ like that before. Sounded kinda… I dunno. Hot.”

You bit the inside of your mouth, just to keep from grinning too hard. He was so serious. Nervous like a schoolboy. But his pupils were blown, his voice just a little breathless.

“You wanna try it?” you asked, tilting your head.

He hesitated. Then nodded.

“Yeah. Wanna see what it’s like.”

You didn’t even get to the bed.

Daryl was already sprawled out on the rug by the window, shirt off, looking like he was about to be sacrificed to the gods. His hands were clenched at his sides, nervous, lips parted like he didn’t know how to breathe right.

You stood over him slowly, watching his eyes trail up your body.

“You sure?” you asked gently.

“Yeah,” he mumbled. “I’m sure. Wanna… feel you.”

You crawled up over him, your knees on either side of his head, and his breath hitched as your thighs brushed his cheeks. He looked like he’d died and gone to heaven. His hands lifted slowly, reverently, to grip your hips.

“Holy fuck,” he breathed, eyes wide. “You’re so wet already…”

“Yeah baby,” you murmured, lowering yourself inch by inch, your slick dragging along his lips. “Been wet since you asked.”

He whimpered.

The moment your cunt settled fully on his face, Daryl groaned. Loud and desperate. His tongue shot out, licking up your folds in a long, messy stroke, hands digging into your thighs like he never wanted to let go.

“That’s it,” you gasped, threading your fingers through his hair. “Just like that.”

He was eating you like a man possessed. No hesitation now, no nervousness… just pure, hungry devotion. His tongue licked and lapped, his nose bumped your clit, and every time you rocked your hips down just a little harder, he moaned. The sounds he was making sent heat rushing straight to your core.

“Good boy,” you whispered. “My good boy.”

He whimpered into you, again. You looked down, and your stomach flipped.

He was grinding into the floor. His cock flushed and hard, untouched, smearing precum on his own stomach. The desperation in his hips made your head spin.

“Baby,” you cooed, cupping his jaw, “are you that worked up already?”

He nodded under you, lips glossy and wet. “Feels so good,” he gasped. “Could stay here forever…”

“You wanna come like this?” you teased. “Just from eating me out?”

He moaned something that sounded like please.

You couldn’t help yourself. You rode his tongue harder, grinding down, your thighs shaking as the heat built and built until—

You came with a cry, clenching around nothing, thighs trapping his face while he kept going like he needed it to live. When you finally pulled off him, his face was soaked, his eyes dazed, lips swollen and shining.

“Fuck…” he breathed.

You lied down beside him. “You okay?”

He nodded. “Fuckin’ obsessed with that,” he mumbled. “Think you broke my brain.”

You smiled and kissed him.

Daryl muttered, clearer this time,

“Wanna do that again?”

⸻

a/n i wrote this really quick PLZ ignore the rushed ending and lowkey sloppy writing okay bai

[orphicsun]

Breaking Your Walls: E.W

Content: Ellie Williams x Fem! reader, sexual content, Santa Barbara setting, near-death situation, porn with plot basically, oral sex (r! receiving), tribbing, sex on the shores, may contain grammar or spelling mistakes

݁Word Count: 4.3k

Description: You're used to moving from group to group in California, not wanting to stick around to watch someone you get attached to die. Ellie's on her own revenge mission in Santa Barbara when she sees you in the worst possible situation. You try not to open up to her, not wanting to actually feel something for someone who can die at any moment, but it's hard when she's everything you could ask for. Enjoy!

You were tied up to the wooden beam as it rot along with you. Your wrists were sore and probably red, your mind fuzzy with the blood loss. All of the labor done at the orders of cruel people, the countless hours all spent for naught, only to die on some pathetic wooden stake.

When you left your group, you thought it would be a fresh start. Los Angeles settlements were always safe, but sometimes you craved more. You didn't have a family, so you travelled a lot. It was easier to hop from place to place than to settle down. It was always easier not to fall in love with the people you met or to even feel an attachment to them. So when you left for Santa Barbara, you were feeling that adrenaline from survival. It was quite addictive.

Most people would say that living in a post-apocalyptical reality should not have been romanticized. It was constant grief, violence, and an embarrassing lack of hygiene amongst all people. But those who actually experienced it all knew the bond formed along with the trauma. Maybe that's why so many people willingly left the safety of settlements or mass groups. There was too much routine, and it's almost impossible to get used to not having to rely on pure wit and survival instincts.

There was no denying the dangers of travelling in your world, however. There was no way of pretending, not when you were currently on your death bed. Or more accurately, your death pillar. You only wanted to have another reckless adventure, and look where that got you. You had already accepted the death offered to you upon this pole, however. Now it was only a matter of actually dying.

The sun was constantly beating down upon you, mocking you in a way. You remembered how much you used to love the sun. Your mother would teach you sayings that got you through rather tough times.

"The nights may be rough, and you may doubt you'll even be alive in the morning. However, the sun will always come back out. The day will be new."

There wasn't much to believe in now that the sun was seeming to drain your body of its livelihood even more than you were already enduring. You were starving and you could feel your body giving up on your will to live. The first few days you had tried to escape and found no hope once you watched the other slaves around you practically drop like flies. You weren't even sure how long it had been since you were able to touch the ground. You just hoped the afterlife would be good to you, and maybe you would find your family once more.

You swear you almost saw the pearly gates and for some reason, it hurt. You hit the ground with a thud and your vision was betraying you more than you could ever predict. There was possibly a person standing over you, one who wasn't much taller than you. And then you lost consciousness.

-

You awoke to a cold rag on your face, and you felt some dusty couch underneath you. You were somewhere in California still, you could tell by the window outside and the heat that still harassed your skin. You saw the figure once more and your vision finally adjusted.

She looked unhealthy too, lanky with her ribs slightly visible even through her bloodied tank top. Her hair was messy and an auburn shade that seemed to reflect some reddish undertones when she shifted and the sun hit the strands just right. She looked as if she had been injured, and you were puzzled to how she seemed so unbothered by her state.

"You're awake." She stated as if you didn't already know that. She wore a cautious expression, and you could tell she wasn't keen on trusting you yet. You couldn't blame her, but it was obvious you were also in no position to harm her.

You let out a shaky breath and tried to sit up, but a wave of dizziness fell over you. You were reminded of how hungry you were, and your throat was dry with the need for water. The girl seemed to notice, and tossed you a flask.

"Drink slowly, or you're gonna end up heaving up water. You look like a fucking corpse, you know that?" Her words were harsh but laced with some concern her face tried to lack. You tried to hold back from chugging the water. It was warm and probably not the most fresh, but you were desperate. The liquid went down your throat and you couldn't help but wonder who this angel woman was. She seemed to even match her actions with her appearance; there was just a hint of a flutter your stomach couldn't suppress when you glanced at her. Maybe it was nausea, but regardless, you found her beautiful. Like some auburn-haired savior.

"What's your name?" You asked, your voice raspy with disuse.

She didn't seem to mind. "Ellie. Yours?"

"It's (name)," you replied.

Ellie nodded and and appeared stuck in her own thoughts. You noticed the way she fidgeted with her fingers, and you wondered how someone who looked so intimidating could be awkward. You really, wanted to know what happened to her, given her own brash condition.

"You look fucked up. You should probably eat." She finally commented, and you nodded. You tried not to seem too desperate, but you really needed some sustenance. Ellie walked over to her backpack and picked up a can of beef stew off of the ground. She unzipped the backpack, pulling out a well-used can opener. You tried not to stare too hard at the way her biceps flexed as she moved around.

She returned to you with the can and a spoon, and you noticed how much softer her face appeared than it did when you had woken up.

"Here. Eat slowly, or don't complain if you puke it all up." You couldn't help but smile at the hint of humor in her words, and you tried to savor the feeling of food in your mouth instead of trying to finish it all in under five minutes. She observed, probably wondering whether or not to make any more comments for you to listen to. She knew she should just be quiet, but Ellie had a tendency to not care much. She could be dearly honest when it was needed, even though you looked like the last thing you needed was for someone to tell you that you smelled like body odor and garbage.

"Girls like you end up in groups just like the Rattlers all of the time, you know." Her voice was measured, not knowing why she blurted that out.

"Well, yeah. Anyone around here is vulnerable to them." You defended yourself.

"I just don't understand why you're here, then. I'm assuming you knew about slavers here in Cali. It's swarming with 'em." She raised an eyebrow at you; she couldn't help but wonder just what you were doing here.

"I've lived in California for a while now." You stated as if it was nothing, but Ellie wasn't dumb.

"I could've figured that out, but that means you're smart enough to know better than to travel alone in a fucked up area."

At least with those words, you took a pause. She saw right through you. You cleared your throat further, and spoke again. "I've been travelling along my entire life, I know the risks."

Ellie scoffed. "Yeah, good for you. Knowing the risks doesn't mean running around any less foolish."

"I don't see you with a group. You're just alone as me." You countered, and you noticed the way Ellie's eyes flickered down.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. Sorry.." She sighed and brought a hand to her face, tucking a stray auburn piece behind her ear.

The silence grew uncomfortable. You didn't know this girl, and yet there was something in her mannerisms and words that made you feel that she would not be a passing stranger.

"Hey.." Her voice trailed off as she struggled to find the proper words. "Rest up in here. I'll go search around the area for some supplies. Don't think about moving, by the way."

You wanted to protest and tell her that you could go your separate ways as if she never saved you, but you knew that in your condition, you needed her. For once, you needed someone, and you couldn't just run off to go live your nomadic ways.

You nodded and laid back down against the couch. It was a far cry from new or even clean, but it was infinitely better than a wooden pillar.

-

As the weeks went by, you slowly recovered and gained some weight back onto your body. You knew that soon, you would be able to go your own solitary way again. However, it was annoyingly difficult to imagine doing so.

Over the weeks, Ellie's ways grew on you. It started with her smile and the way her eyes contained a hint of humor throughout herself. It was always small and you had a feeling that once, she was more carefree, but you ask her about that. Only let your heart flutter when she told you a dad joke. From there, it was then her voice and how she rasped on, sometimes not having much to say and other times telling you stories about a small settlement in Wyoming. You told yourself you were just bored from being forced to stay in the home the two of you held shelter in, but you knew damn well it was more than that.

You also knew she loved someone else. A woman named "Dina." She never told you outright, but you could see it in her body language. You were observant enough to notice the way she tried to brush it off, and only ended up looking almost child-like, like a young girl in love.

You tried not to let yourself grow a soft spot for her. She was already spoken for, at least her heart was. You had no place in her life in such a way. But it was just so hard when small moments lingered, increasing in tension. Ellie was everything to a girl that had inextricably nothing, a girl that didn't know what letting feelings linger felt like. In any other condition, perhaps you would've ran off far, far away from this auburn girl. But by some strange inconvenience, by your own body's limitations, you're here with her.

-

You were laid on the couch starting at the ceiling. You didn't know what time it was, but from the window, you guessed it was well into the night. The faint sound of crickets carried throughout the air, and you could sense Ellie's presence on the floor below you. You didn't want to glance over at her.

You could already imagine the way her face would be moonlit from the shine in her eyes, the small pieces of shaded hair, the mold of her face. It was like a being begging to be touched, how inexplicably gorgeous she was. Daydreams of having the chance to tug the strands and make her sigh, to feel her in ways you could only imagine what was like-

Now you were getting ahead of yourself.

You were supposed to be recovering so that you could leave. You needed the sleep, needed the rest for your sore body after being practically tortured for weeks, but you were restless. You let out a soft sigh, giving up. You sat up and brushed through your hair, which was in extreme need of a wash. Then, you got a stupid idea. You knew it was risky, but you were in desperate need of a rinse.

With quiet but inevitably creaking steps, you managed to slip out of the house. From the view, it was clear that you were still in Santa Barbara, just on the outskirts. the moon was the only source of light across the entire view, and you could see the water smothering moist sand at the shore of the beach. It wasn't far; maybe a five minute walk. With a deep breath of courage, you took the walk.

Your body was in much better condition than it was weeks ago, but it still was a far cry from the body it used to be, the one that could handle itself. Now, you felt vulnerable, knowing that if infected were to catch a glimpse of you, you'd have to pull a you and run. You wouldn't be guaranteed an escape, though.

Your shoes made a soft crunching noise against the beach. You kicked your shoes off and then slipped free from your jeans, your shirt, and then finally undergarments. The breeze was slightly cool, but only heightened the feelings conflicting in your mind from being naked on a shore in which anyone could find you. Still, you needed a damn wash.

At the feeling of cool ocean water lapping at your feet, you felt truly alive. The moon was proudly beaming above you. You used to think the moon was like some torturous level to get past, that the sun was your savior. Now, you let yourself absorb soft, cool fragments of luminosity.

Your body was now within the water to your waist. You closed your eyes, letting out deep breaths, before kneeling down into the water. The sudden submergence made you shudder, but you could feel the way the salty water mixed within your scalp and enveloped your body. When you finally surfaced, you were met with the sound of a familiar raspy voice.

"Scared the fuck out of me so you could go skinny-dipping?" She stood at the shore, brows knit together in frustration, but some worry hid beneath it.

You quickly turned around, not expecting to actually be caught. Fuck. Your hands instinctively went to cover your chest, but Ellie only sighed as if she'd already given up on lecturing you. She was used to you by now.

"Mind if I join you?" She already made quick works of kicking off her dirty converse. You only nodded, not knowing what to say. You didn't know if you could handle being naked next to her, but you couldn't explain to her that you had a stupid school-girl style crush on her. Plus, she definitely needed to get cleaned up too.

You could hear the sound of her clothes coming off and then the slight splash of her walking into the ocean. You closed your eyes and dared not to look behind you.

"Your hair is gonna be salty." You jolted when you realized she was right next to you, only a few inches of space between your bodies. Fuck, you tried not to look. It was too hard, though. Only an involuntary flicker, and you could see the way her body was practically sculpted like some goddess. Not in a conventional way, either. Her hip bones were visible through her skin, and you could faintly trace over her ribs with your gaze. Her breasts were small, but they sat beautifully on her body and her nipples were slightly hardened by the breeze. You couldn't fully make out all of her features in the dark, but the was gorgeous. So fucking gorgeous, and you had to look away before you lost your mind.

"Um, yeah. It needed a wash, though." You cleared your throat to compose yourself. Ellie's lips tugged into a slight smile, but she didn't make an effort to comment on your defensive tone.

For a few minutes, all you did was look up at the stars. They were dim, but created a portrait of beacons, and they reminded you ever so slightly of Ellie's face and how you wished to make constellations out of her freckles. The silence was comfortable but left you alone in your thoughts that you wished to hide from. It was even harder to hide from them when Ellie's fingers brushed up against your hand, slightly wet from the salty water.

"What are you doing?" You flinched away out of instinct, and immediately regretted it. You wanted her touch, why did you do that? You hated the barriers you set so naturally, not wanting anybody close.

"I'm so sorry, I just..guess I misread your face." She sounded embarrassed and slightly dejected. You were extremely nervous, not ever even letting anyone see you like this, but you couldn't help yourself.

"No, it's okay. I do.." You trailed off slightly before finding the courage to turn and face her. "I do want you to touch me." You knew you probably sounded pathetic, all shaky and quiet, but definitely certain. It was enough for Ellie.

She turned to you, her body almost grazing yours. She hesitated only slightly, her eyes following her own arm, before she finally let her hands trail up your arms. Her fingertips traced the dip in your collarbone, and you couldn't find it in you to shy away. Even though her touch was innocent, bordering on more than that, it was hard to resist when she was here offering you everything you wanted, and you were subconsciously touch-deprived.

Soon following, her lips grazed over your wrist, her eyes on yours as if seeking approval. Your breath hitched slightly at her implication and you nodded. Her mouth wasn't as slow as her hands, sliding its way up to smother soft, sensual kisses on your shoulders. When her lips met the space between your shoulder and neck, her tongue darted out to taste your salty skin, and you let out a small involuntary sound, a mix between a gasp and a moan. She pulled back to read your expression before her mouth latched onto your neck, her body now pressing against yours. You could feel her everywhere; chest to chest, hips conjoined, and it made your head spin with the need for more.

When her kisses reached your ear, she paused. "Can I kiss you?" Her heated breath was hitting your ear, making you weak in the knees.

You swallowed and nodded, but Ellie didn't seem impressed.

"Say the words." Her voice was a whisper and her words her blunt, demanding. Her tone though, it was laced with sweetness. She could probably sense your inexperience.

"I want you to kiss me." You got the words out, and Ellie was satisfied.

Her lips left soft pecks on your jawline until they reached your chin, and then with her fingers, tilted it slightly so she her lips could taste yours.

The kiss wasn't sweet like in the novels, but rather salty, and her lips chapped. You didn't mind. Her hands found your waist and tugged your body closer until there was no room between your bodies. Her tongue slid between your parted lips, making you let out a soft whine. You didn't fully know what you were doing, but your eagerness made the kiss just as good. Her kisses went from soft and gentle so sloppy, wet, and desperate. Your own hands grasped at her face, needing more. You felt a heat, an ache between your legs, but you tried not to focus on it too much. It was all an overload to you; the way her body rubbed against yours as the two of you moved, how her lips took your bottom one into into her mouth and suckled onto it, the scent of the ocean and the sand between your toes.

Before you could even register it, Ellie was guiding you back onto the shore and laying you down onto the sandy surface. Her body followed yours swiftly, her lips chasing yours back. You were a heap of tangled limbs on the ground, grains of sand stuck to your back and your hair as it was spread out against the sand. Her hips were fit snug between your thighs and her hand moved to hitch one of your legs around her waist. Your moans were swallowed by her mouth, your hands rubbing over her back to find purchase in the situation. None came.

Her lips began trailing from your own to your neck, collarbone, and then shoulders. She paused at before her breath fully hit your chest, making sure you were still wanting her. Your face was flushed even in the night, and your eyes half-lidded. That was enough for her to make contact with your boobs, taking one into her mouth and swirling her tongue around your hardened nipple. You gasped her name, fingers tugging into her hair. You could feel her smile slightly and switch to the other nipple. Her hands held your waist, squeezing it slightly as she finally moved further down. Her tongue swirled around your navel and down to your thighs. When her lips met your left inner-thigh, you let out a short breath, practically panting.

"Ellie..." Your eyes were closed, your body slightly tense in anticipation.

"Do you want this?" Ellie looked for confirmation, her lips now gently mouthing at each thigh.

"Yes, I do..but I've never done this before." You admitted weakly.

Ellie looked up when you said that and squeezed one of your hands with her own. "That's okay. Just relax for me, 'kay?"

You nodded, eyes closed, only relying on her touch. Her hands gently worked to pry your legs further apart, and you allowed her to. Then, you felt her hot breath fan over your cunt, making all blood rush to it, before licking from your hole to your clit, hardly grazing it with her tongue.

You were already wet, but that made you practically Nigeria-falls level flooded. You couldn't hold back the strange, needy sound that left your parted lips. Your body twitched, legs moving instinctively to close, but Ellie's grip on your thighs was strong. She moved to hitch your legs over her shoulders, and kissed at your thighs like a tease once more.

"Just let yourself enjoy it. Feels good, doesn't it?" You couldn't respond, only silently nodding and hoping she could understand the feelings coursing through you. When she felt you relax more, she continued her work.

Her tongue flicked at your clit before slipping into your hole, making your hips jolt slightly. She didn't stop, only letting you feel her mouth against your pussy. Ellie would occasionally let out soft vibrational sounds against you, making your head spin and your stomach flutter. It wasn't like anything you'd ever felt before. You had obviously taken care of yourself before, but having someone else's tongue inside your cunt while your legs squeezed around their head? It was another type of heaven you only understood in other types of senses, not physical pleasure.

If you were even able to think of anything besides the heat Ellie's touch provided, you would've been concerned about how you would be able to fare without this treatment every single day. But you couldn't worry, not when this felt so good. You could only appreciate it for what it was worth, and that felt like everything.

You were growing needier, hips grinding your cunt against her mouth while you chanted her name. "Ellie", "Ellie, oh god..", "Please, I'm so close Ellie-"

Your stomach was all tied in knots, and she was only encouraging the feeling and you wondered just how euphoric it'd be to finally release all over her face, to taint her with your arousal.

Soon, you just couldn't help it; the knots she had you tied up in snapped, and Ellie didn't stop, letting you ride out the high. She could hear your pants, the cries you were letting out, and the way your plush thighs practically suffocated her. All she could focus on was your taste, how you just came from her nose brushing up against your clit and her tongue filling your insides. It made her just as needy as you.

You didn't get much of a break, only some soft kisses to your thighs before she was moving up your body and spreading your wobbly legs to feel your soaked cunt against her own. You whined, overstimulated, and she leaned to nuzzle her face into your neck, spilling apologies she didn't really mean. "Sorry, baby..just need you. It's gonna feel good, I promise."

Her cunt slid against yours, hardly any resistance from the way your cum spread between the two of you. You felt so good against her, your nails digging into your back it was almost painful, yet she wouldn't protest, almost pitying your poor, overstimulated clit.

Your body felt so raw and used up, and somehow it felt even more good than before. The way she used your body for her own pleasure had you whining now, louder than the first time. The squelching sounds of your love-making filled both of your ears, and you could hear every soft huff of Ellie's breath matching the rhythm of her humping.

Soon, the intense overwhelming rawness left you, and you only felt bliss. Ellie seemed to follow suit, her movements growing sloppy and less purposeful. You could feel the wetness between the two of you combine, making the movements even louder.

When it was all over, the only noises were crickets and your heavy breathing. Ellie was collapsed on top of you for who knows how long, and her breath was finally evening out against your neck. She pulled herself up and sighed.

"Fuck."

You laughed at that. "Yeah. Fuck is right."

Her body fell back onto yours, her arms holding you tight. You could feel the uncomfortable feeling of sand covering one side of your body, but you didn't care.

After a while, Ellie asked something that usually would make you run away.

"You wanna maybe..go to Wyoming with me?"

You didn't offer much hesitation.

"Why not?"

[heliosunny]

Yandere!Zayne x Reader x Yandere!Caleb

Arts cre to artist

Summary: In a post-apocalyptic world overrun by monstrous creatures known as Wanderers, you are one of the last remaining scientists, dedicating your life to preserving humanity. Using cutting-edge biotechnology, you create Caleb and Zayne—two highly advanced humanoid beings designed to assist you in fighting the Wanderer threat. You implant them with memories of being your childhood friends to ensure they feel loyalty, trust, and camaraderie toward you. Caleb is the reliable and determined pilot, wielding gravity-based powers, while Zayne is the calm and resourceful medic, capable of manipulating ice.

The morning sun streamed through the reinforced windows of your lab as the smell of something savory wafted in, pulling you out of your deep focus. You looked up from the maze of wires and circuits sprawled across your workstation just in time to see Caleb entering, balancing a steaming plate in one hand. His dark hair was slightly damp, probably from his morning workout, and his signature confident grin was firmly in place.

“You didn’t eat again, did you?” he said, setting the plate down in front of you.

You blinked at the food—a plate of perfectly scrambled eggs, toast, and even a small bowl of fresh-cut fruit. “Wait… when did you have time to make this?”

“Right after fixing that mess of a ventilation system in the south wing” he replied, leaning against the counter with his arms crossed. “You’re welcome, by the way.”

You gave him a wry smile. “You know, you’re starting to sound more like a housekeeper than a pilot.”

“And you’re starting to sound like someone who’s about to faint from hunger” Caleb shot back, gesturing toward the food. “Now eat before I make it a command.”

Reluctantly, you put down your tools and took a bite. It was annoyingly good. You mumbled between mouthfuls, “You’re too good at this. What kind of pilot cooks this well?”

“The kind that has to make up for the genius who forgets to eat.” he said, a playful glint in his eyes.

Before you could retort, Zayne walked in, clipboard in hand, his icy-blue eyes immediately narrowing at the sight of Caleb and his cooking.

“What’s this?” Zayne asked, gesturing to the plate. “Breakfast in bed? How domestic of you, Caleb.”

“Jealous, Doc?” Caleb quipped without missing a beat.

Zayne’s gaze shifted to you. “You really let him boss you around like this?”

“I didn’t let him,” you said, gesturing to the food with your fork. “But I’m not complaining. He’s saving me time.”

Zayne sighed, placing his clipboard on the counter. “You know, if you actually managed your schedule better, you wouldn’t need someone to babysit you.”

Caleb rolled his eyes. “And if you lightened up, maybe people wouldn’t freeze the second you walk into a room.”

“Caleb. Zayne.” You set your fork down and gave them both a pointed look. “Can we not do this every time we’re in the same room?”

Caleb smirked but didn’t push further, and Zayne gave a small huff before grabbing a tablet to check mission reports. Despite their constant bickering, there was an undeniable ease to their presence, like two opposing forces that somehow balanced each other out.

You looked between them, a small smile tugging at your lips. No matter how chaotic they were, they were your family—the people you could always count on, even in the darkest of times. ----- The mission had gone horribly wrong. Wanderers ambushed you in the dead of night, forcing Caleb and Zayne into combat. Caleb slammed one creature into the ground with a gravitational pulse, his jaw tight as he yelled “Get behind me!”

Zayne’s breath misted in the air as frost spread from his fingertips, freezing a group of Wanderers in place. “How about you stop barking orders and actually focus on not dying?” he snapped, his voice sharper than usual.

“I am focusing!” Caleb retorted, his gravitational barrier flickering as the strain mounted.

Realizing they couldn’t hold out much longer, you made a split-second decision. Pulling out a remote device, you activated the override. Both Caleb and Zayne froze mid-action, their bodies locking up as their systems shut down.

“I’m sorry” you whispered, dragging them to safety before finishing off the remaining Wanderers yourself.

When they woke up in your lab hours later, the tension was palpable. Caleb sat up first, rubbing his temples. “What… happened? Why couldn’t I move?”

“You shut us down” Zayne said flatly, his tone icy. His sharp gaze pinned you in place. “That override… what else have you been hiding from us?”

You sighed, turning away from their accusing stares. “I had no choice. You both would have died.”

Caleb stood, his expression unreadable. “We’re not just tools, are we? We’re…” His voice faltered, and his hand clenched into a fist. “What are we?”

Zayne crossed his arms, his voice low. “Answer him.”

Taking a deep breath, you faced them. “You’re not tools. You’re not experiments. You’re my creations. I built you to help me save humanity. And I gave you memories—false ones... because I didn’t want you to feel like you were nothing more than machines.”

The silence was deafening. Caleb stared at you, a storm brewing in his eyes. “So… we’re not even human?”

“No.” you admitted softly. “But that doesn’t change what you mean to me. You’re more than just creations. You’re my family.”

Zayne’s expression softened slightly, though his tone remained cold. “Family? Is that why you lied to us?”

“I lied to protect you.” you said, your voice firm. “I didn’t want you to feel like you were just tools. You’re not. You’re everything to me.”

In the days that followed, Caleb and Zayne’s behavior shifted. Caleb became more protective, shadowing you during missions and watching you with a guarded intensity. Zayne, meanwhile, grew more reserved, throwing himself into his work but keeping a careful eye on you.

One evening, as you worked late in the lab, Caleb sat nearby, idly fiddling with a gadget. “You should let me help you more.” he said suddenly.

“You already help plenty.” you replied without looking up.

“Not enough.” he muttered. “If something happened to you…”

You looked up, surprised at the vulnerability in his voice. “Caleb, nothing’s going to happen to me. I have you and Zayne, remember?”

He nodded but didn’t look convinced. “Yeah. You have us.”

Later that night, Zayne entered the lab, finding you asleep at your desk. Shaking his head, he draped a blanket over your shoulders and adjusted the room’s temperature to keep you comfortable. “She pushes herself too hard” he murmured, his icy tone melting for just a moment.

“Don’t we all?” Caleb’s voice came from the doorway.

Zayne glanced at him but didn’t respond. Instead, he sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it… she needs both of us.”

Caleb crossed his arms, his jaw tight. “Yeah. She does.”

The city was under siege, and the Wanderer threat was greater than ever. Caleb, Zayne, and you stood side by side, ready to face the horde.

“Stay close to me” Caleb said, his gravitational field already forming.

Zayne rolled his eyes but smirked. “Protect her all you want, but don’t get in my way.”

You placed a hand on both their shoulders, your voice steady. “No fighting. Not now. We do this together.”

For the first time, they exchanged a glance of mutual understanding.

As the battle raged, the three of you worked in perfect sync. Caleb’s gravity crushed waves of Wanderers, while Zayne froze others in their tracks. You enhanced their powers, amplifying Caleb’s field to cover the entire city and super charging Zayne’s ice to create massive barriers.

When the last Wanderer fell, the three of you stood together, battered but victorious. Caleb offered you a tired smile. “We make a good team, don’t we?”

Zayne chuckled, his breath misting in the cold air. “For once, I agree with him.”

You smiled, tears in your eyes. “We always have.”

As the world began to heal, so did your bond with Caleb and Zayne. They accepted their origins and found solace in their roles—not as tools, but as your partners and family. Though their playful rivalry remained, it was no longer tinged with bitterness.

----- Life had been peaceful in the months following the defeat of the Wanderers. The lab had transformed into a hub of innovation, with Caleb and Zayne lending their unique talents to assist you in rebuilding technology for humanity. Despite the occasional bickering between them, a quiet harmony had settled over the three of you.

That peace, however, was shattered the day an unexpected visitor appeared at your doorstep.

You were calibrating a new piece of equipment when the lab’s security system chimed, signaling an incoming guest. Caleb, who had been fixing a damaged drone nearby, frowned and stood immediately.

“Expecting someone?” he asked, tension creeping into his voice.

“No” you said, confused, wiping your hands on a cloth as you walked to the door.

The man standing outside was someone you hadn’t seen in years. Dr. Marcus Vell, a former colleague from your days as a junior scientist. His slicked-back gray hair and sharp suit gave him an air of authority, but there was something unsettling in his smile.

“Y/N!” he said warmly, stepping forward as you opened the door. “It’s been too long.”

“Marcus?” you said, startled. “What are you doing here?”

“I heard about your success” he said, glancing around the lab with thinly veiled interest. “I must say, I always knew you’d surpass the rest of us. Your creations…” His eyes flicked to Caleb and Zayne, lingering a little too long. “…are remarkable.”

Zayne, standing in the corner, crossed his arms, his icy gaze fixed on Marcus. Caleb moved closer to your side, his posture protective.

“Thanks, but I’m pretty busy.” you said, trying to keep the interaction short.

Marcus chuckled, unbothered by the cold reception. “Of course. I won’t take much of your time. I’m here with an offer. Humanity needs minds like yours—truly gifted ones. Come work with me. Together, we could rebuild this world far more efficiently.”

You hesitated, sensing the hidden implications in his words. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m happy where I am.”

His smile faltered slightly, and a flicker of something darker crossed his face. “Don’t be so hasty. You’ve barely heard what I have to offer.”

Caleb stepped forward, his expression hard. “She already said no. You heard her.”

Marcus glanced at him, his smile sharpening. “Ah, the pilot. A fine creation. But let’s not forget who’s really in charge here.”

Before Caleb could respond, you held up a hand. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Marcus.”

Marcus straightened his suit, his eyes lingering on you. “Very well. But consider this—talent like yours shouldn’t be wasted in obscurity. I’ll be in touch.”

As he walked out, Zayne’s voice cut through the silence. “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I” Caleb muttered.

You sighed, brushing it off. “It’s fine. He’s just an old colleague trying to stir up trouble. Forget about him.”

But Caleb and Zayne exchanged a look—one that spoke volumes.

Later that night, while you were asleep, Caleb and Zayne made their move.

“He’s not going to stop” Caleb said, his voice low as he paced the dimly lit lab.

Zayne, seated at a console, typed rapidly, pulling up information on Marcus. “Agreed. He’s been digging into her work for months. I found encrypted correspondence with other labs—he’s trying to recruit people to take her away.”

Caleb clenched his fists. “Then we stop him. Quietly.”

Zayne looked up, meeting Caleb’s gaze. “For once, we’re on the same page.”

Two days later, Marcus Vell vanished.

You didn’t notice at first, too absorbed in your work to realize he hadn’t “followed up” as he promised. When you eventually thought of him again, Zayne was the one to casually dismiss your concerns.

“Marcus?” he said, adjusting his glasses. “I heard he left the region. Something about funding issues.”

“Really?” you asked, frowning. “That doesn’t sound like him.”

Caleb chimed in, leaning against the counter. “People like him are all talk. He probably realized you weren’t interested and gave up.”

You nodded slowly, still feeling a vague unease. “I guess. Well, good riddance.”

Caleb and Zayne shared a brief glance behind your back, the unspoken agreement between them crystal clear. Marcus was no longer a threat.

A week later, Caleb handed you a plate of food while Zayne adjusted the cooling system for your new project.

“Thanks” you said with a smile, taking the plate. “You two have been unusually cooperative lately. Should I be worried?”

“Cooperative?” Caleb grinned. “We’re just that good.”

Zayne gave a small shrug, his lips curving into a rare smile. “Sometimes, we have the same priorities.”

You tilted your head, sensing an undertone you couldn’t quite place. But whatever it was, you trusted them. After all, they’d proven time and again that they would do anything to protect you—even if you didn’t always know the lengths they’d go to.

As you turned back to your work, Caleb and Zayne exchanged a small, knowing smirk. They didn’t need your gratitude. Keeping you safe was reward enough.

----- Bonus: The Great Dinner Standoff It had been a long day of work, and you were looking forward to a relaxing dinner. Caleb had volunteered to cook, which usually meant something delicious but overly ambitious. When you entered the dining area, the smell of roasted vegetables filled the air.

Caleb turned from the stove, flashing you a proud grin. “Dinner’s ready. I made roasted carrots with honey glaze, some chicken, and mashed potatoes. Pretty fancy, huh?”

Your mouth watered at the sight of the golden carrots on the table. “It smells amazing. Thanks, Caleb!”

Zayne appeared in the doorway, pausing mid-step as his eyes landed on the carrots. His face immediately darkened. “Carrots? Really?”

Caleb smirked, clearly enjoying Zayne’s reaction. “What’s wrong, Doc? Too sophisticated for your picky palate?”

Zayne ignored him, stepping into the room with a tray of his own. “I made something, too.”

You blinked in surprise. “Wait, you cooked?”

Zayne set the tray on the table, revealing a dish of cilantro-lime rice. “I thought I’d contribute.”

The moment Caleb saw the cilantro, his expression soured. “Cilantro? Seriously?”

Zayne’s lips twitched into a subtle smirk. “Oh, I know. Just thought it would balance out your… overly sweet carrots.”

Caleb glared at him. “You’re sabotaging dinner.”

“Sabotaging?” Zayne asked innocently, taking a seat. “I’m expanding the flavor profile.”

You groaned, sitting down between them. “Can we have one meal without a fight?”

Caleb pointed his fork at Zayne. “Tell him that. He’s the one ruining perfectly good food.”

Zayne calmly spooned some cilantro rice onto his plate. “I could say the same about your poor excuse for a vegetable.”

You sighed, grabbing a little of both dishes and taking a bite. The carrots were sweet and perfectly cooked, and the cilantro rice had a refreshing zest. “Honestly? They’re both great. You two should just appreciate each other’s cooking.”

Caleb muttered something under his breath but started eating, avoiding the rice entirely. Zayne, for his part, made a show of pushing the carrots to the edge of his plate.

By the end of the meal, you couldn’t help but smile. Despite their endless bickering, you knew they both cared in their own strange ways.

[absurdthirst]

Radio Silence {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 7.9k

Warning: Canon violence, 3 years after outbreak, the cruelty of men, unwanted advances, naked clickers, sadistic leaders, Joel is creative in his revenge, threats of death, guns, killing infected, veiled threats, consent is sexy, unprotected sex, taunting, little bit of public exhibition, cream pie, pictures, death (couldn't happen to a nicer guy)

Comments: Running across a pair of survivors, they are brought back to the radio station you call home. Unaware that your leader is a sadistic fuck, intent on ruling his little post apocalyptic kingdom, Joel and Tommy are stripped and left for dead. Leaving Joel to want to get the ultimate revenge, by taking you.

A/N: Plausible? No. Fun to write? Yes.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

It’s been three years since the world as you knew it came to an end. Three years of fighting for your life every single day. The infected are dangerous, men even more so. There’s protection in numbers but even that protection is dangerous. Jeff is insane, you know this, but he’s the leader of the group you live with. For some reason, his word is law, everyone who has ever disagreed with him has mysteriously died in an attack by the infected, or just disappeared one day. You have your suspicions but you can’t voice them. Just trying to ignore the looks he gives you, rebuff the subtle suggestions he makes. One day, he will try to force you, but for right now, you just operate the radio at the secure little radio station your group has decided to make your home. The fence around it was still good and luckily the offices had made good rooms for privacy. “Radio check. This is KYH7” You hum, clicking your radio and listening to the silence. No one ever answers, but you still check every day. Hoping there are others that are still out there. Sighing softly, you switch back the frequencies your groups use on the handhelds.

Jeff strides into the radio room, glad to see you here. You’re always here, trying at all hours to find someone else on the frequency. You still have hope and he finds that to be extremely naive but also cute. “Hey sugar, how’s my favorite girl today?” He asks, smirking at you as his eyes trail along your form. “You ready to head out for the patrol?” He asks, knowing you need to try to make good with him after making one of the other women jealous. At least that’s what he thinks in his mind.

You send him a bland smile definitely not wanting to encourage him, but it’s also not smart to piss him off. “Of course.” You agree, setting down the radio on the charger and you pick up your gun to tuck it into the small of your back. “We need to find some medical supplies.” You remind him.

Jeff trails his eyes along your form when you straighten up. He wants you. He has since the day you joined and he desperately wants to hear you scream his name while he’s buried balls deep inside you. “Let’s head out. I feel the need to shoot infected.” His fingers twitch with pent up aggression and he licks his lips as he makes his way to the door, ready to get out the building.

You, Jeff and two others make your way outside the fences. There’s only ten people in your group and sometimes that feels like nine too many. The weather is nicer than it has been and you are actually happy to be out. Sometimes it feels a little stifling to be in the radio station all the time. “Not as many infected.” Tyler comments as you move through the overgrown path that leads to the road.

Joel wipes his brow as he and Tommy make their way along the road. It has been a couple of years since they fled Texas. Joel was numb as Tommy dragged him away and both of them have fought to survive. He’s done things he’s not proud of but he has nothing to live for now his little girl is gone. They have made friends and enemies during their travels and they have stayed in some camps during their journey after hearing about the quarantine zones in North Carolina. When they arrived in North Carolina, the quarantine zone had fallen and they continued their journey. After hearing a rumour about Boston QZ, they continued the journey to find a place to stay without fighting for their lives. The brothers quickly discovered that the infected aren’t the most dangerous thing in this new world. It’s humans. “You need to stop?” Tommy asks, knowing Joel has been up for hours. He didn’t wake Tommy for the next watch and the younger brother was pissed for the sacrificial bullshit. “I’m fine.” Joel promises, continuing to walk through the exhaustion. That’s why he doesn’t hear them approach. At least that’s what he tells himself later. “Fuck!” Tommy yelps as a clicker comes rushing towards him from the bushes. “Shit!” Tommy exclaims as he pulls his knife from his fire holster and quickly kills his attacker. “Why the fuck is this one naked!“ Tommy turns to look at Joel just as another infected comes rushing out of the bushes.

Joel has seen a lot of strange fucking things since Outbreak but this might be the strangest. The fungal growth over the man’s head looks like a grotesque mask, turning the almost comical sight of a flaccid, moldy looking cock swinging as the clicker rushes forward into something from a nightmare. “Shit!” He doesn’t even have time to pull his own knife before the naked infected man is on top of him, teeth snapping in an attempt to spread the fungus that has killed the majority of the world. Driving him to the ground and making him fight for his life while Tommy rushes over.

Tommy wastes no time pushing his knife into the clicker, watching it slump and Joel pushes it off, taking Tommy’s hand to stand up. “Jesus. Why are they naked? Some kind of cult?” Joel guesses and Tommy shrugs, “who knows. There’s probably more so we better get moving.” He says and Joel nods, adjusting his backpack. The brothers only make it another half mile when they are stopped in their tracks by a group. Joel immediately hovers his hand over his gun, knowing he and Tommy are outnumbered. “We ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” Tommy says, holding his hands up and he nods at Joel to do the same.

You had gasped when you had seen the two men. Excited that there were still people out here. They had been startled themselves, wary, and you know they have every right to be. “Take out your weapons.” Jeff orders, his rifle against his shoulder as he aims it at them. “They are alone.” You point out, your own weapon pulled but hanging down by your side. They look healthy, competent. Something that your group needs desperately. Jeff thinks he’s competent, but he’s really not. You call out your name. “This is Jeff, Tyler, Kiera.” You introduce them. “What are your names?”

Joel is taken back that you aren’t just pulling your guns out to shoot him and Tommy. He’s shocked by how pretty you are. He looks at Tommy, “I’m Joel. This is my brother Tommy.” He answers and Jeff smirks, reaching out to wrap his arm around your waist, “you fellas out here alone?” He asks and Joel frowns, seeing the possessive move. He nods, unsure of where to say yes or no to save himself and Tommy. “Good.” Jeff smirks, lifting his gun, and Tyler follows his action. Joel grunts, lifting his hand away from his gun, “we ain’t lookin’ for trouble.” He repeats, not wanting to die today.

“We aren’t either.” You assure them both. Stepping forward to get away from Jeff’s hand, hating how he tries to act like you two are together. He hisses your name and you look back at him. “They are alone.” You tell him. “They have been out here, they can tell us what they’ve seen.” You want more people in your group, knowing that there is safety in number and Joel is handsome. He has a look about him that makes you think he doesn’t take shit from anyone. You like that. You need it desperately if you are going to escape Jeff’s machinations.

Jeff huffs at you, “come on baby. We don’t need to know what they’ve seen.” He murmurs and Joel’s eyes flick between you and Jeff. It’s obvious you don’t want him and even clearer that he wants you. You huff and shake your head, “at least let them spend the night.” You suggest, thinking Jeff will come around to the idea of them if they spend more time around the group. Jeff hums, unsure of what to do. “Fine. One night.” He decides after a beat.

You smile as you relax, knowing that Jeff can be so mercurial at times. “We should go back then.” You hum. “I’m sure that they would like a fence around them.” Joel’s eyes widen slightly and Tommy grins. “Yeah, yeah, that would be good.” He agrees.

Joel is suspicious but he knows he has to trust people somewhat if he is to survive. He and Tommy need a good night's sleep without a watch. At least they’d be safe from the infected. He sighs and nods, watching Jeff as he smacks your ass. He doesn’t like or trust the guy but he needs one night. One night and then he will go on his way.

“Jeff!” You hisses, whirling around and frowning at the man, but he just chuckles and motions you on. “Lead them back, sweetheart.” He coos, acting generous. “Don’t think we are going to find anything useful this trip.” Tyler and Kiera tuck their guns away and you motion towards Joel and Tommy. “This way. We are in an old radio station.” You explain, “it works for now.”

Joel clenches his jaw, anxious but Tommy offers him a nod to show that they are gonna observe but also be on alert in case shit goes down. They aren’t strangers to surviving in this new world. Joel will do what it takes to protect his little brother. Jeff keeps his hands to himself but he’s made the message clear: you are off limits. The group is silent as they make their way home and Joel eyes the radio station as it appears, glancing at Tommy.

“We have some solar panels, but the batteries are going bad.” You admit as you walk closer to the two new men. Jeff is in the lead, acting like he personally built the sanctuary himself. Throwing a wave to Andrea as she stands guard at the gate to open it up. “Visitors!” He calls out cheerfully. “Right now we only have power during the day, but I’m hoping to find some new storage batteries.”

Joel is tense and Tommy knows shit could go down but he’s choosing to be hopeful. Joel walks through the gate, fingers twitching but he tries to be positive as the gate slides shut behind him. He looks up to see you glancing back at him and his stomach twists with attraction but he shoves that down.

Coming back to the place you are calling home is always a relief. Your shoulders slump slightly and you sigh happily. “I’m going to go check the radios.” You tell the group, smiling at Joel and Tommy before turning towards the building.

The building is a little run down but it’s clear the group has organization. There’s food storage and running water. Solar panels and supplies lined up. Joel is impressed and dubious at the same time. The radio station didn’t have those supplies when the world went to shit so something must’ve happened.

You set your bag down and remove the gun from the waistband of your jeans. Grinning to yourself as you click on the radio. “This is KYH7, radio check. Is anyone out there? I am broadcasting on 275 MHz and hoping to meet other survivors.” You release the mic key and listen for a moment, only hearing static. “Anyone?”

Joel is hesitant to set his backpack down but Kiera asks if he and Tommy are hungry. Tommy nods, “starving. We have jerky but we haven’t eaten anything hot for a long time.” Joel looks over at where you’ve gone. The little room with what looks to be radio transmitters.

“KYH7.” You repeat. “Anyone out there?” The hiss of the static would normally put you in a funk, but there are new people right outside this room. You click off and instead of staying in the radio room, you come out. “Help with dinner?” You offer, grinning at Diane as you come into the kitchen, the former break room of the radio station.

Joel watches you until his eyes meet Jeff’s and the other man narrows his gaze at the older Miller brother. He doesn’t like them and he doesn’t like the way you seem interested in him. He wants them gone.

Dinner is a rather lighthearted one at first. There are guests and everyone in your group asks questions. The two men are guarded until they realize that all you really crave is news about what is going on outside your little bubble. “You came from Texas?” You are impressed by that. “I was in a camp outside of Dallas for a little while.” You admit. “Traveling out of state on Outbreak day.” You give a sardonic smile. “Lucky me.”

Joel nods, mind taken back to the day that Sarah died in his arms. He swallows harshly and Tommy notices, reaching out to squeeze his shoulder. You frown and Joel’s stomach twists at the soft look on your face. “We, uh, managed to escape but it was a shit show.” Tommy answers, “we have been on the road ever since. Met some groups but we have discovered that humans are the real danger, not the infected.”

Your eyes flicker towards Jeff and you manage a huff. “I don’t know, I don’t think that’s entirely true.” Everyone scrapes their plates awkwardly as they look away. Knowing that he’s right but not wanting to admit it. Even to your own ears, your protest falls flat. “Where are you headed?” You ask, changing the subject.”

Joel notices the unsure looks of the group and the cocky smirk of Jeff. He knows something is up and it has him on edge. Tommy opens his mouth but Joel cuts him off, answering with “we are heading to Ohio. We heard there’s a QZ there that Fedra hasn't destroyed and the fireflies haven’t blown up yet.” He says and Jeff tilts his head, “Ohio? And you’re in the mountains?” He asks and Joel shrugs, “figured higher ground was the best route.”

“Ohio.” You squash a frown, feeling like he is lying but you don’t know why you feel that way. “That makes sense.” You offer. “The Midwest has some large areas with sparse populations. Like here.”

Joel nods, glad that the lie has been bought, and he digs back into his food. He tries to not act like he hasn’t eaten for days but he shovels his food in a little too fast. Tommy glances at the group, “so how did y’all meet?” He asks, wanting to know how everyone got here.

Everyone gives their story, Tyler and Andrea are siblings, Diane has met up with them about a hundred miles from here. The slow story about how the group had come to be unfolds. “I actually am the one that found this place.” You admit with a small shrug. “I like radios, so the tower intrigued me.”

“And you?” Joel asks Jeff, wanting to hear the man’s story, and he snorts. “I liked her so I followed her to the radio tower with the others.” He confesses, “but she’s playing hard to get. It’s the end of the world and she doesn’t want to be fucked.” He scoffs and Joel clenches his jaw, “might be the end of the world but women still get to choose who they fuck.”

Everyone is quiet, used to Jeff’s comments and you had mostly ignored it and tried to play it off before. Now, you shoot Joel a small, grateful look, happy there is still someone with gentlemanly views in the world. “So for now, we have a safe place, but it can’t last forever.” You admit, shifting the conversation away from Jeff.

Joel nods, noticing the narrowed eyes of Jeff as he stares at the brothers, pissed at the older one’s comments. “No. Eventually a bigger group will find this place, kill you all, and take it over.” He says without a thought and Tommy nudges him in warning. “Especially if you don’t have the right leadership.” He adds and Jeff bristles. “We are doing just fine. No one is gonna take what’s mine.” He says, pointedly at Joel who nods, “I guess time will tell.”

You take a sip of your water. “The showers work.” You offer, desperate to ease the tension that has settled. There’s an unspoken standoff and you don’t like the possibilities of what that might mean. Jeff can be vicious. “I’m sure you’d love the opportunity to clean up some?”

Joel nods, suppressing the urge to groan at the idea of a shower. Even if it’s cold. He doesn’t care. Streams and rivers are freezing and he wants to stand under running water. “Hot water?” Tommy asks and you nod, making him groan.

“That would be amazing.” Joel admits, knowing that it’s been a long time since he’s been able to enjoy a hot shower. “Thank you.” As standoffish as your leader seems to be, you seem too sweet. Good. A rarity nowadays.

Joel groans when he’s under the hot water, looking down to see the dirt swirl and disappear down the drain. He grunts and reaches for the soap, scrubbing his skin until it’s sore to get the grim off his skin. Tilting his head back to wash his hair, he feels relaxed for the first time in - well, he so doesn’t even know. “Fuck.” He grunts, his cock twitching when he thinks about you for a moment. You’re pretty, sweet, and he’s seen the way you watch him. If he didn’t think Jeff would kill him for even thinking about you, he’d be inviting you into his sleeping bag. He reluctantly steps out the shower, making his way to where his bags are with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Oh!” Your eyes widen when you see Joel, skin still damp from his shower. He’s red and raw from heat and washing but he looks delicious. You swallow and lick your lips slightly. “I was just- I wanted to see if you needed anything.” You try to ignore Tommy as he walks by with his own towel and smirks at you being flustered. “Not that I- um. You’re probably wanting to get dressed and sleep.” The extra sleeping clothes in your hands are worn out but they are clean. “I brought these for you and your brother.”

Joel ignores the look Tommy sends his way and he swallows harshly, willing his cock to not stir again. "Uh, thanks." He mutters, taking the clothes from your hands, and you hover for a moment, "right. Well, uh, goodnight." You rush out and stride off, leaving them to their corner of the station. Tommy chuckles and Joel huffs, "don't start." Both brothers quickly change and settle into their sleeping bags, happy to be within four walls without worry of the infected.

Jeff is waiting by your door when you come back. “You need to stay away from those men.” He warns you, making you sigh as you shake your head. “They aren’t dangerous.” You remind him. “They are nice. But they are going to move on, you heard them. They are going to Ohio.” Secretly, you wish you were going with them.

Jeff reaches for your forearm, dragging you closer, “you stay the fuck away from them. You’re mine.” He reminds you, “unless you want to join the infected outside these walls.” He growls and you nod, swallowing harshly. Your skin aches from how he gripped you, and you nod, stepping back when he releases you. 

**** 

Joel fell asleep quickly, exhausted and struggling to be on alert. He should’ve insisted Tommy sleep first and they took shifts in case these people pull something but he trusts you for some reason. He falls asleep until he is shaken awake. “What-?” He reaches for the knife under his pillow but it’s gone. “Get up.” Jeff demands, gun aimed at him.

“What the fuck?” Joel frowns when he sees the weapon but he holds up his hands as Tommy stirs. “Wha-“ His brother’s eyes widen. “You want us to leave now, we’ll leave.” Joel promises his jaw tense and his eyes narrowing, seeing the anger in Jeff’s eyes. He wonders why the fuck he even let them stay if he was just going to kick them out in the darkness.

Jeff tilts his gun, “get the fuck up.” He orders and Joel huffs, standing up alongside Tommy. “We will get our shit and go.” Tommy promises and Jeff smirks, “you’re not taking your shit.” He says and Joel clenches his jaw, “fine. We will go without it.” He says and Jeff clicks the safety off his gun. “And you’ll strip.” He says and Joel scoffs, “what?” Jeff chuckles, “I want your clothes too. Strip. Both of you.” He orders, hovering his finger over the trigger.

“You son of a bitch.” Tommy chokes out, looking like he’s about to attack but Jeff tuts. “We’ll be left defenseless.” He argues, but Joel realizes why there were naked clickers that attacked them a few miles away. “That’s the point.” He tells his brother, seething in a rage as he narrows his eyes at the sadistic leader. “He wants us dead.”

Joel is furious, blood boils, but what can he do? He’s at gunpoint and outnumbered. He swallows harshly, shaking his head at Tommy as he reaches for the hem of the shirt you handed him. He wonders if you knew this would happen and you gave him soft eyes to lure him into a false sense of comfort.

“She won’t fuck you.” Jeff taunts. “One way or the other.” He feels confident now that he has the upper hand. He always wants control and this world lets him have it. “Saw the way you looked at her, but it doesn’t matter. You’re gonna become one of those fuckers.” He motions outside and smirks. “And when I see you next, I’m gonna fucking shoot you for sport.”

Joel knows he can’t do shit right now. He’ll be killed and won’t have a chance but he decides then and there that he’s going to get his revenge. He pulls his shirt off, dropping it to the floor, and Tommy follows his example. Within moments, both men are naked. Jeff smirks, looking down at Joel, who refuses to cover his manhood. He is pissed and he stands proud. “Because you die, I’m sure you can fuck one of the infected before they bite you.” He chuckles, “now, let’s go. One wrong fucking more and you are dead.”

The radio station is quiet as the three men shuffle through the hall. The padded slap of Tommy and Joel’s bare feet is a distinct contrast to the quiet thud of Jeff’s boots. Outside, the other men are standing near the gate, smirking when they see the brothers stripped down. “Fuck.” Tommy snorts. “Do you keep the women you find?” He asks. “Hoping one of them will eventually fuck you?”

Jeff growls, “they want us. They want protection. We provide…they suck our cocks.” He smirks and Joel scoffs, “not all of them.” He remembers your protest and he know you haven’t fucked Jeff. He couldn’t say that about the others, but it seems unlikely. “We need supplies. It’s what we do. The women don’t like it when we kill people so we do this instead.” He confesses, “and we get to kill you later when you’re infected.”

“I’m gonna fucking kill you.” Joel vows, glaring at the other man. “I’m going to make sure that you regret doing this.” It seems like an empty threat, but he’s resourceful. The first thing he will need to do is find a weapon or a place to hole up until the sun is up. Right now, he and Tommy are vulnerable.

Jeff snorts, “sure thing, bud. You and your bare hands while your cock is out?” He chuckles and the other men open the gates to the station. “Good luck out there. You’re gonna need it.” He smirks, shoving Joel to the ground just outside the gate. Joel and Tommy can’t do anything but stand and watch the gate close. “What the fuck do we do now?” Tommy asks, shivering from the breeze. Joel smirks, “we get our revenge.”

The lock on your door had seemed so flimsy most nights, but it had felt firmer while Joel and Tommy were sleeping just down the hall. You had actually overslept, meaning to be up hours ago.You don’t know why, but you trust them more than the men who are in your group. They were attracted to you, but they didn’t eye you like you were a possession. Now, you dress and open your door, frowning when you see the empty sleeping bags. “Hey, where is Tommy and Joel?” You ask Diane when she comes by with a pot to start cooking breakfast.

Diane sighs, stepping closer to you, “they have ended up like the others.” She reveals and you inhale deeply. “Shit.” Your stomach sinks, knowing they will be dead by nightfall. Diane nods, knowing your thoughts echo her own. She’s trapped here too, unable to go out on her own. “We are going to do patrols later. No doubt Jeff wants to see if they have been infected and enjoy killing them.” Diane sighs, “he will want you to stay behind for radio.”

“Of course he does.” You clench your jaw, furious that he has fucking killed another pair of innocent men. All for their belongings. You sigh heavily. “And catalogue their stuff.” You bend down and pick up a sleeping bag and smell it. It’s a little musty, but you think it smells like Joel. “I fucking hate it.” You murmur softly.

Diane nods, “you’re the longest one to hold out. All the others gave Jeff what he wanted…even me.” She confesses, watching you as you look at their belongings. “Let’s hope they don’t suffer out there.” She sighs, carrying the pot to the kitchen.

You should be surprised that Diane has given in, but you aren’t. This is a world that demands sacrifice to survive. One day you will give into Jeff, when you are worn down and unable to keep resisting. “Fuck.” You don’t know if you believe in God anymore, but you still say a quick prayer for those poor men.

Jeff finds you a few hours later and he leans in to run his hand along your arm. “You need to remember who you belong to, baby.” He murmurs, leaning in to nuzzle his nose along your neck. You flinch and he smirks, “you’ll give in soon enough. They all do.” He smacks your ass, “be a good girl and get the radios ready. We are splitting up to find the brothers.” He grins evilly and you sigh, nodding and stepping back from him.

You check the radios, wishing that you could give them dead ones, but it’s standard to check them before they leave. Today, everyone but you and a guard for the gate is going out and it feels like Jeff is trying to isolate you even more. Sighing when they close the gate behind them, you turn and go back to the radio room, hoping someone will answer. You need a way to escape this place.

Jeff’s voice comes over the radio, “clearing out the valley. Keep in touch.” He orders and the line cuts as he clicks off. You huff and monitor the signal, continuing to check for another frequency. You don’t even think to listen to your surroundings and within ten minutes, you hear his voice. “Well, ain’t you a sight for sore eyes.” He murmurs, his dark eyes meeting yours.

Inhaling sharply, you see Joel standing inside the doorway, his jaw clenched in anger and his body still completely stripped of every stitch of clothes. You swallow harshly, fear and very sharp relief that he looks unharmed clashes in your stomach. You can tell he’s furious. “I- I didn’t know he was going to do that.” You promise, eyes flickering down his body and you swallow again. “Tommy?” You ask softly, hoping nothing has happened to his brother.

“He’s watchin’ the gate and finding our shit.” He informs you, knowing you’re alone. He and Tommy had waited until the group left. Stupid fuckers left one person on the gate and he was killed quickly. “You knew he had done that before.” Joel growls, angry at you for not warning him but he reminds himself once more that Jeff controls everyone here. “He noticed the way you looked at me.” He says as he takes a step closer, “the way you’re lookin’ at me now. Like you’re hungry.” He observes, “but not for food, right sweetheart?”

You shiver slightly, trying to act like you aren’t affected by him, but you know he can see right through that. He shouldn’t be intimidating, standing in front of you naked, but he actually looks more fierce when there is nothing covering the raw strength of his body. “I’m not looking at you in any kind of way.” You lie breathlessly, nipples hardening when he chuckles dryly. “You’re a bad liar.” He huffs, stepping closer to you again. You step back, but the desk is right behind you and you bump into it, jostling the equipment. “I didn’t think that he would do it at night.” You admit. “I hoped to wake you up early enough to leave before he woke up.”

Joel scoffs, “you could’ve tried harder to warn me. Now…you’re gonna have to help me get my revenge.” He murmurs, stepping closer but not close enough to touch you. “He wants you. That’s obvious. I want to make him pay in a way that isn’t death. Can you help me?” He asks and your brow furrows, “what do you want to do?” You ask and and Joel smirks, “I want to fuck you.”

Your eyes widen and you gasp. “He- fuck me?” His cock twitches, starting to harden in front of your very eyes. Thickening as he’s obviously a grower and you bite your lip as you look back up into his cocky eyes. He can tell you are impressed. “He will kill me.” You murmur softly. “If I- if you-“

Joel steps closer, shaking his head and pressing his finger to your lips. “Don’t worry about him. This is your choice. You want me to fuck you or not? If not, I’ll take our shit and go.” He promises, “you decide if you want to help me get revenge.”

You realize he’s not going to force you. He could have already thrown you down by now, but he’s not touching you beyond pulling you closer, his hand around your back and his finger on your lips. Waiting for your answer. Your tongue pokes out, touching his finger and you nod as you lick up the singular digit. “Yes.” You whisper. “Fuck me.”

Your words are all the permission he needs and he surges forward to press his lips to yours. Tommy knows his planned revenge, having found a gun to keep guard. Joel immediately slides his tongue into your mouth, knowing he doesn’t have a lot of time, and he reaches for the hem of your shirt. He pulls back for a moment to lift your shirt over your head and he groans at the sight of your tatty bra. The lace frayed but you’re still sexy. “Shit. You’re beautiful.” He murmurs, kissing along your neck while he reaches behind you to unclip your bra, dragging the lace down your arms. He wants you as naked as he is.

Joel strips you down methodically. It doesn’t take any time for him to be dragging your jeans and panties down your legs, eager to get you spread out. “Fuck.” You whimper, reaching down and wrapping your hand around his hardening cock. “I don’t- there’s no condoms.” You admit quietly. “But I haven’t slept with anyone since before outbreak. I’ve never had too many lovers.”

Joel smirks, “that’s okay, baby.” He groans when you squeeze him, “me neither. Ain’t had much time when I’ve been surivin’.” He slides his hand down until he’s cupping your pussy, chuckling when he finds you already wet. “Hmmm been a while since someone fucked this cunt?” He asks and you nod, whimpering when he slides a finger through your folds. “Don’t worry baby, I’m gonna take real good care of her.” He murmurs, “and I want Jeff to know.” He pushes two fingers into your cunt, wanting to prepare you to take his cock but he pulls them out after a moment. “On your knees by the radio.” He demands, batting your hand away from his cock after he pulls his fingers from you.

You whine at the loss of his fingers, but you don’t argue, getting down on your knees and facing him. Obviously he wants a blow job and after he’s made it back here, he deserves one. Instead of stepping towards you, he shakes his head. “Other way, sweetheart.” He grunts. “I don’t want you to suck my cock. I want to bury myself in your pussy and let your wanna be boyfriend hear how you sound.” He tells you with a wicked smirk.

You whimper, shifting to lean against the desk where the radio equipment is. Joel chuckles at your eagerness, shifting to kneel behind you. He groans at the sight of your body. You’re beautiful. His hands slide along your waist, up to your tits, “he wanted to see you like this but you’re bare for me. Pussy dripping for me.” He murmurs deeply, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. He lowers his hand down to squeeze his cock, pressing it into your crack. “Turn the radio on. I want him to hear you when I split you open.”

You gasp, turning your head to chase his lips for a kiss but he teases you. Pulling back slightly and humming as he continues to position his cock at your entrance. “After he hears you moan.” He chides, taking your hand and moving it up to the desk. “Turn it on, baby. Let him hear everything he’s ever wanted to hear.”

Joel watches you as you fumble to get the radio tuned and Jeff’s voice comes in muffled. He says your name and your hand shakes as you press the button to connect, “he-here.” You choke as Joel nudges his cock against your clit. “Keep the radio on.” He orders as he starts to push into you.

Your mouth drops open and you let out a low moan, making Jeff call your name in confusion. “What’s wrong, what’s going on?” He demands as he radios back, but you can’t answer him. You’re too busy being completely overwhelmed by the feeling of Joel stretching you out.

Joel smirks, loving the low moan you let out and he rocks into you, pushing deeper. He pulls out a little and pushes deep again, loving the way you choke his name. “Joel?” Jeff growls, confused and pissed. Joel chuckles, “it’s me.” He confirms, grabbing your hips to rock into you again.

“Motherfucker!” Jeff hisses, his fury radiating through the radio. “What the fuck are you doing there?” He’s surprised the asshole is alive, let alone in the radio station. You are surprised that Jeff isn’t just cursing up a storm and threatening the man he thought he had sentenced to death through the radio. 

Joel starts to fuck you, his skin slapping against your ass as he squeezes your tit. “Taking what’s yours.” Joel smirks, “and she is loving it. You should feel how wet she is. You can hear it.” He picks up the radio microphone, bringing it down to where he’s pushing into you.

You should be ashamed, embarrassed by the way he is flaunting what he is doing to you. But you fucking love it. Joel has just bruised Jeff’s ego, mortally wounding it, with the slick slapping of his skin as he hammers into you.

Jeff growls down the radio, “you fucking asshole. I’m gonna kill you.” He hisses and Joel chuckles, setting the radio down on the table. “Listen to her. She fucking loves it. Listen to her moan for me. She wouldn’t let you do this. She’s letting me fuck her.”

You whimper, clenching around Joel’s cock be because you know it’s true. You love it, and you never would have let Jeff fuck you. “Yes, fuck me harder.” You moan.

He grunts, rocking his hips a little harder, “she loves it.” His hand comes up to grip your jaw, “tell him you love it. Tell him you wanted my cock.” He orders and Jeff growls down the radio, clearly making his way back to the station but they are too far away.

“Fuck.” You know that Jeff is coming back, but you don’t care. You don’t care that he will be pissed. “I wanted him.” You admit breathlessly. “I love that his cock is inside me.”

Joel smirks, leaning in to bite down on your shoulder. “Listen to her. She fucking loves it.” He pants, sliding his hand down to rub your clit, “listen to her moan for me.” He chuckles breathlessly and Jeff growls, “I’m going to fucking kill you. Taking what belongs to me. She’s mine.” Joel snorts, “she’s mine right now.”

“Never yours, Jeff.” You gasp, tits shaking as his cock drives up into you. The pace makes your voice shake and you grab onto his arm as he holds you. “Never yours.” You repeat. “His. His pussy, his…..woman.” You aren’t his and he might not even let you live, but there is a certain thrill to taunting Jeff. He’s far enough away he can’t touch you.

Jeff pants as he runs, “you motherfucker!” He growls, “I’m gonna fucking skin you alive.” He promises, listening to your moans and skin slapping as Joel takes what belongs to him. “She’s mine now. Her cunt belongs to me.” Joel growls, his hand squeezing your breast and your nails dig into his forearm.

“Fuck.” You whimper again, loving how Joel is touching you. It’s possessive, but respectful. He is fucking you because he wants you. Not to possess you, but he does that anyway. “Yes, yes it does.” You pant in agreement, turning your head and kissing along his jaw.

He doesn’t kiss you back, wanting Jeff to hear every single moan that escapes your lips. “That’s it, baby. Take it all. Tell him how good it feels.” He orders, slapping your clit, “tell him how fucking deep I am in this pussy.” He grinds deep, his other hand pinching your nipple.

“Oh shit, oh shit.” You gasp it out, back arching and whining moans fill the radio waves. Another hisses curse is panted out. “Gonna cut your dick off and shove it down your throat!” Jeff huffs.

Joel chuckles darkly, “she will still belong to me. She won’t be yours. She will never be yours.” Joel declares, his hand reaching down to rub your clit. “You’re gonna listen to her cum for me. Gonna listen to her scream my name.”

Jeff curses and shouts to the group to hurry their asses up. He still won’t get to you in time. Soon, Joel’s gonna cum and then he’s going to leave. “Fuck.” You whine, hips rolling down to meet the sure swipes of his fingers. “I’m so close.” You admit. “So fucking close.”

He leans in to kiss your shoulder, “cum for me, baby. Want you to cum for me.” He orders, “let Jeff hear ya. Let him know who’s fuckin’ you this good.” He orders, rubbing your clit a little faster. “Moan my name so that asshole can hear you without the fuckin’ radio.”

One hand is between your thighs and the other is holding onto your breast, pulling you back against his body while his hips slap harshly against your ass over and over again. The thickness of his cock breaks you open and makes you moan every time he pushes deep. “Fuck, Joel.” You moan, body trembling. “Fuck! I’m gonna- I’m cumming!” You squeal, walls clamping down around his cock as your core floods with liquid pleasure.

He loves how you fall apart, squeezing his cock, and he groans. “Fuck. Fuck. That’s it, baby. Squeezin’ me like a goddamn vice. Fuck, Jeff, you should feel her. So goddamn tight.” He growls, pulling out of you as you shake and he shifts to lay you down. He glances around and smirks when he sees a marker on the table. “Listen to her fuckin’ cry out my name.” He chuckles at Jeff over the radio and he uses his teeth to open the marker. He smirks as he brings the marker to your belly, writing his name on your skin.

You don’t even care that he’s writing on you, don’t care what he’s writing. All you care about is when he slides back inside you. Loving the angle change and you feel him push you through one orgasm and start building you up again. “Of fuck baby, more. Joel, fuck, you’re so good.” You whine, cupping your own tits while he rocks into you as he writes.

Joel smirks, “listen to that. She fuckin’ loves my cock. Didn’t want your limp prick.” He chuckles, listening to Jeff curse him again. “I’m gonna fill her up.” He taunts him, “leave her full of my cum for you to find her.” He tells Jeff and your walls clench around him at the thought.

“I’m gonna kill you!” The threat is screamed over the radio, harsh and slightly unhinged. You know that you will have to kill Jeff, because he will try to kill you if he finds Joel’s left. Still, you think about all the comments, the jokes, forcing the others to give into his demands. Treating the women like his own personal harem. “Yesssssss.” You pant out, “do it. Fill me up.”

Joel wants you to cum one more time so he thrusts deep, lifting your leg onto his shoulder, and he brings his thumb to his lips. Licking it for a second then pressing it against your clit. “That’s it, baby. Tell him who’s fucking you like this. Who’s stretching your tight little pussy out.” His cock twitches inside you, getting close but he wants you to clamp down on him one more time.

The angle is magical, your back arches when he thrusts deep and you let out a scream of pleasure. “You! Fuck, you, Joel!” Your hands grip his biceps and you start squealing every time his cock fills you and hits that spot deep inside you. “Your cock - you’re in my guts!” You feel it building inside, but it’s still a surprise when the dam bursts and you scream his name again while drenching his cock and stomach as you squirt.

“Jesus Christ.” Joel groans, the force pushing his cock from your cunt, and he reaches down to squeeze himself. “Fuck. I’m gonna cum.” He pushes back into your quivering cunt, the squelch audible to Jeff who is cursing Joel and repeating how he’s going to kill him. “That’s it. Gonna fill you up real good.” He promises, chest heaving as he thrusts a half dozen more times, pushing into you when finally he paints your walls with his hot seed.

Your moan is softly, breathless as you feel the heat of his cum fill you up. The angry, strangled sounds of heavy breathing from running coming through the radio, along with shouts of the others to slow down. You don’t regret it though. “Fuck.” You switch off the radio and look up at Joel’s clenched jaw, eyes closed expression as he rides out his orgasm. “Might be worth the risk of death.” You hum. “But you need to get out of here.” You caution him. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

Joel nods, glancing around, and he smirks when he sees the Polaroid camera on your desk. He slowly pulls out of you. “Can I?” You nod, giggling at what he’s about to do. “Spread your legs.” He orders and you eagerly spread your legs, exposing the cum dripping from your pussy. “Fuck, that’s a pretty view.” Joel murmurs, clicking the button and he grabs the Polaroid, setting it aside to develop. “Get your shit. You’re coming with us. I ain’t leaving you with that asshole.” He orders, tossing a rag at you from the table and he knows you have minutes to get dressed and out of this place.

Your eyes widen and you scramble off the desk to clean up. “There’s a path that leads to the main road.” You tell him quickly, tossing the cum coated rag aside after you wipe up. “They might check it, but we can make it farther than they can after their run back here. Ohio shouldn’t be too hard to get to.” You plan on grabbing whatever you can from the supplies and taking them with zero regret. These people don’t care about anyone but themselves.

“I lied. We ain’t going to Ohio. We are going to Boston.” Joel reveals, “you know where our clothes are?” He asks and you nod, dressing and grabbing your things. Joel smirks as he leaves the Polaroid on the radio desk. The image now clear. You laying there dripping his cum with his name written on your stomach. He knows you’ll want to wash that off later but right now, he needs to get you and Tommy to safety.

You grab their things and extra ammo, food, canteens. Anything that you think will be helpful that can be easily carried between the three of you. Joel calls Tommy in, the brother dressing in his own clothes quickly, and nodding towards you. If he knew what had happened, he didn’t shame you for it. “We need to go.” He tells Joel as soon as his feet are in his boots.

Joel nods, grabbing as much stuff as he can carry in his pack and he looks at you, “you ready?” You nod, “get me out of here.” Tommy snorts and you guide him through the back entrance just as Joel hears the group opening the gates. “Quick!” You order, escorting them through the back entrance to a part of the fence that has been ripped open that you’ve told Jeff about many times, but he didn’t believe you. Joel holds the fence up for you and Tommy to get under, glancing back as he hears the group approaching the station. 

Jeff growls, “find those motherfuckers. Whatever it takes.” He orders the group, “spread out. I want that fucker alive so I can skin him.” He orders, making his way inside to find you. He enters the communication room and frowns when he doesn’t find you. He thought you’d be tied up, grateful for him rescuing you. You’re nowhere to be seen. All that’s left is a photo on the desk. Jeff picks it up, frowning at the Polaroid until he narrows his eyes. A photo of you, cum dripping from you, and his name written on your skin. On the white strip, the asshole had written “mine.” Jeff growls, slamming the photo down. He will find that asshole one day. “Fuck!” He growls just as he hears screams. “Infected!” Diane yells and Jeff’s eyes widen. In his rush to get back to base, he didn’t realize that he’d summoned the naked infected that he’d left to rot. Within twenty minutes, everyone at the compound is dead while you, Joel and Tommy walk towards a new life in Boston.

[gffa]

*bungee jumping down the arcane fic rabbit hole* got any fic recs?

Save that bungee rope, we're going to need it to get the next person down here, too. And I do have a few recs I've enjoyed! (If you guys have any fics you want to rec that you've enjoyed in this fandom, I'm all ears. I'm still trying to navigate my way through the absolutely massive amounts and my usual method of finding authors I recognize from other fandoms is failing me because APPARENTLY WE HAVE WORK TO DO TO MAKE YOU ALL COME DOWN HERE WITH US.) JAYVIK RECS: (Current brainrot extraordinaire.) ✦ Begin Again by egg_thief, jayce/viktor, nsfw, post-canon, 3.3k or: Jayce and Viktor’s existence continues, somewhere out in the cosmos ✦ not to me, not if it's you by brewstersbru, jayce/viktor, post-canon, 2k They were supposed to die, then, a better ending than Viktor expected. Far sweeter than he deserved. Jayce’s hand warm and broad against his neck, foreheads tipped together, breaths fanning over skin. It was neat. It was nice. And then he woke up, splayed in a field, draped in the tatters of Jayce’s blanket. A groan rose from his left, then some pitiful shuffling before a final, loud thump, accompanied by a slight warble. ✦ the sun is an apricot promise by chicandcheesy, jayce/viktor, post-canon, 5.4k Six months after they destroy the Hexcore, Jayce and Viktor try to settle into a new life as friends. Partners. Turns out they love each other a little too much. ✦ The Softer the Skin, the Sharper the Teeth by ticketytockety, jayce/viktor, nsfw, spoilers, 5.4k During his time trapped in a devastated, apocalyptic world that does not belong to him, Jayce manages a temporary escape to somewhere else. Sometime else. ✦ The butterflies we feel by writin, jayce/viktor, time travel, 8.6k wip It was only right to offer Jayce one last thing: himself. A fleeting moment of shameless intimacy. There was no past, no future — only them, and everything they were willing to give. One final gift, for both of them. Or; S2 Jayce meets S1 Viktor, but there are consequences.

ZAUNDADS RECS: (Don't judge me, the artbook t-boned me with feelings, it's not my fault!) ✦ patience by orphan_account, zander/silco, nsfw, 7.6k He’s been dead five years when he shows up at The Drop unannounced. Vander can't be sure if this makes an already bad week better, or worse.

TIMEBOMB RECS: (This one also side-swiped me out of nowhere, officer, it's not my fault, either!) ✦ better to be poorly accompanied than to be alone by ajstyling, ekko/jinx, post-canon, 2.9k A long time ago, Ekko made a promise. Now he just hopes Jinx will give him the chance to keep it. ✦ the cycle of lonely creatures by red_dragon_rising, ekko/jinx & caitlyn/vi, post-canon, 7.4k So it happens that Caitlyn is now hiding Piltover’s most wanted terrorist and the murderer of her mother inside her ancestral home. So it happens that she’s become a traitor to her city. So it happens, because the girl is Vi’s sister. (AU: Vi dies with Warwick) ✦ pluto by zippe, ekko/jinx & vi, post-canon, 4.2k Ekko and Jinx, time after time

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

SAFE & SOUND — PART 1 PREMIERES @ 15th JAN WED 0000 KST

Navigating one year post-apocalypse, when the dead began to walk and the living proved to be no better, you decide that trust is a luxury you can no longer afford. But after a run-in with a group of seven peculiar survivors, you learn that there are bigger problems than just the undead roaming the streets. You also start to wonder if there’s more to survival than simply staying alive.

word count: 13.6k

featuring: enhypen as themselves

genre: dystopian, post-apocalyptic survival, horror/thriller, slow burn, angst

taglist: open! comment, send ask or submit the form on my profile to be added!

notes from nat: starting the new year with a bang 💥

MASTERLIST

TEASER

Rotten.

The can of tuna you’ve risked your life to retrieve from the mart in the next neighbourhood is rotten. Just like everything else roaming the streets.

The smell hits you first, sharp and metallic, curling through the air like a mocking laugh. It’s only when you peer into the greyish sludge that you know for sure. Gagging, you launch the can across the dimly lit room. The clang as it hits the wall feels louder than it should, echoing against the hollow silence. A greasy smear marks its path before it rolls to a stop.

Your stomach tightens, but not from hunger—not entirely. It’s exhaustion, or frustration, or both, a familiar cocktail of feelings that churns in your gut. You press a hand to your stomach, willing it to stay quiet. The small victories matter now, even if they’re as simple as keeping quiet.

“Figures,” you mutter, wiping your hands on the knees of your tattered jeans. The word feels heavy in the thick silence of the abandoned community building you’ve been calling home—a makeshift fortress that’s only just kept you alive for the past year.

The windows are boarded up with planks you scavenged from nearby wreckage, letting in only the faintest cracks of moonlight, casting fractured shadows on the walls. The small corner where you sleep is enclosed by a barricade of furniture you've managed to tie together with ropes and scraps of cloth you’ve gathered. It’s not perfect, but it’s held so far.

Outside, the telltale groans of the undead float through the night air, mingling with the distant sound of screams and breaking glass. You’ve learned to tune it out, to pretend that the world hasn’t fallen apart.

But every so often, when the noises grow too close or too many, the illusion shatters, leaving behind a pit of fear in your stomach that no amount of fortification can fill.

You lean back, letting your head hit the wall. The cracks in the paint catch against the rough weave of your jacket, the sound gritty and small. Your mind drifts back to that fateful day, the day everything went to shit.

You’d only been living in Seoul for a month, you were barely unpacked, just starting to memorise the labyrinth of subway lines, the shortcuts to your university. University acceptance had felt like the first step towards something bigger, something brighter. You can still see your parents’ faces, lit with pride, when you shared the news. Getting into a university in Seoul—it’s like gaining instant bragging rights for life.

Except now, none of it matters. Those things out there couldn’t care less about your alma mater, whether you’re earning a six-figure salary or pulled from the gutter. To them, you’re just another meal on legs—flesh, blood, and bone all blending into the same, mindless craving.

You’d always thought you’d know what to do in a zombie apocalypse. Every movie and survival guide said the same thing:

Avoid the cities. Get out fast.

So when the news started to break, you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed a bag—essentials only—and set out, determined to make it back to your parents in the province. You didn’t even pause to think about how impossible it might be.

But the city had other plans. You hadn’t even made it ten blocks before the streets were overrun. A tide of chaos, of screams and shoving bodies—alive and not—forced you off course.

The community building was a last-ditch refuge, its doors flung open to anyone desperate enough to run for them. You’d barely made it inside before the barricades went up. It wasn’t the plan, but then again, nothing about survival ever is.

At first, it felt like a haven. There were enough supplies to keep everyone fed—if barely. Dozens of survivors shared the space, most of them too old or too scared to leave. The rations were thin, one meal a day if you were lucky, but it was enough.

You and a handful of the younger survivors took turns venturing out, gathering what you could from nearby shops and houses. It wasn’t much, but it worked.

For a time.

When the convenience store was stripped bare, you moved to the supermarket. When that was picked clean, you ventured further. Each trip took you deeper into danger, the risk growing with every step. Supplies dwindled. The fear grew sharper, harder to ignore.

People started to die—some to the undead, others to hunger, and still others to the kind of cruelty that only surfaces when survival is on the line.

You learned quickly that it wasn’t just the zombies you had to fear. You’ve seen it firsthand: the way desperation changes people.

At first, it was small things—arguments over ration sizes, whispers of distrust. But then the small petty arguments turned into fights, and fights turned into bloodshed.

One by one, people either left to take their chances elsewhere or fell victim to the chaos within. A high school student, he had barely turned eighteen, stabbed a man over a tin of peaches. A woman abandoned her own mother to save herself when the barricade was breached.

Survival strips away more than flesh—it strips away the pretence of civility, leaving only the raw, animalistic instinct to endure at any cost. It’s not just the undead that keep you awake at night—it’s the memory of what people are capable of becoming.

So when the barricade failed during a particularly viscous storm and you’d barely escaped with your life, you dragged what little you could salvage to this corner of the building, patching up the holes as best as possible. Alone, because it was safer that way.

Now, alone in the faint light of your makeshift fortress, the weight of it all presses down on you. The loneliness, the hunger, the constant, gnawing terror—it’s all too much. But you shove it aside, because there’s no room for weakness here.

Weakness gets you killed.

Your stomach growls again, insistent, and you grit your teeth. You’ll have to go out again soon. The thought sends a chill through you, but there’s no other choice. Survival doesn’t wait for fear to subside.

Taking a deep breath, you stand and reach for your weapon—a rusted crowbar that’s seen more use than you’d like to admit. Tomorrow, you’ll go out again, search for food, risk what’s left of your life to keep it from ending.

For now, you sit in the dark and listen. To the groans. To the screams. To the sound of your own ragged breathing. And try not to dream.

[fazedlight]

Sand

This isn’t real, she thought, as she dug her toes into the cozy sun-warmed sand.

She kissed me this morning.

Kara gazed ahead, watching as the beach waves crashed on shore, warm and sunny against the backdrop of her planet’s destruction. Out across the waters, she could see the great horror of her past: Krypton as it died, damned in fire, debris floating across the expanse of space.

This isn’t real, Kara thought, listening to the grainy sound of sand as she moved her feet to pull her legs to her chest, placing her chin on her knees in quiet contemplation. She wondered if she would see the Danvers home if she turned around, or if that would be another expanse of sand and ocean and Krypton’s death.

She kissed me this morning.

Kara smiled at the thought. Lena had been working in the Tower lab; Kara had brought her doughnuts and espresso. Just like any other morning, they had cozied up on the couch together, laughing and talking.

But unlike any other morning, an odd sort of silence eventually fell between them. Flickering gazes, shy blushes, a tension that they couldn’t tell was real.

And then Lena leaned forward, and kissed her.

She kissed me this morning, Kara thought, eyes glancing ahead to Krypton, I’m sure of it. I think I’m sure of it. I’m…

Kara sighed, lying down on the beach, stretching as she stared up into the blue skies mixing with the fires on the horizon. She kissed me, Kara tried to convince herself, and then the Tower alarm went off right after, and Alex said I needed to get downtown to fight a threat. But she kissed me. I know she did…

“Would you like some company?” came a familiar voice.

Kara grinned. “I’d love that.”

She didn’t watch as her best friend took a seat on the sands beside her. Lena sighed, looking out on the horizon at the destruction ahead, seeming both curious and understanding. “This isn’t your world, Kara,” she said.

“I know.”

“You’re trapped in a black mercy.”

“I know.”

Lena reached down to brush some sand off her feet, frowning in curiosity. “I thought the plant shows you paradise. This doesn’t look like paradise to me.”

Kara hummed. “Maybe it doesn’t know what to do if reality is paradise enough.”

For a moment, Lena stayed quiet, mulling what to say in response. “If you know this place isn’t real, then why haven’t you woken up yet?”

“Because I’m not sure if reality is real.”

“What do you mean?”

Kara could feel the patter of her heart in her chest. “Did anything unusual happen this morning?” she asked.

There was a shy laugh in response. “It was real, Kara,” Lena murmured, “And if you wake up, I’d like to do it again.”

She kissed me this morning.

Kara smiled, breathing in the smell of sea salt in the breeze, eyes still trained on the bizarre images in the sky. “Okay,” she said.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Lena reaching for her ear, no doubt tapping at a device Brainy had provided. Watching as the figure faded away, Kara closed her eyes, feeling as the world began to morph around her, as though she were weightless and falling and flying all at once.

She finally opened her eyes, noting several figures hovering over her as her eyes adjusted to the harsh Tower light. “Welcome back, Kara,” Brainy said, as she felt the black mercy slither off her chest, “You gave us quite the scare.”

The crew began to shuffle around again. Brainy headed back toward a different monitor, Alex gave her sister’s arm a welcoming squeeze before chasing after J’onn, Nia carried the container with the captured black mercy into a back room.

Lena watched Kara intently.

“Was it real?” Kara whispered.

Lena smiled, and leaned forward - pressing her lips to Kara’s.

She kissed me this morning, Kara thought, and now I can kiss her back.

----------

For @ekingston's flash fiction challenge Prompts: fluff & hallucination & post-apocalyptic & sand

[yunniverse]

Haven | Chapter 1: A Spark of Hope

౨ৎ PAIRING: ex-soldier!jeong yunho x survivor!reader

౨ৎ GENRE: angst, fluff later in the story, survival, post-apocalyptic, fem!reader

౨ৎ WARNINGS: themes of survival, potential blood, mentions of weapons, dangerous situations, yunho is a little bit rude at times

౨ৎ WORD COUNT: 2.0k

౨ৎ SUMMARY: you’re a survivor, and have been since the beginning of the end of the world, since the great war. yunho is an ex-soldier who wants no part in saving humanity. somehow, you convince him otherwise, and the two of you embark on a journey to rescue mankind, and, maybe, find love and safety in each other along the way

౨ৎ A/N: my first series! i’ll do my best to update regularly, and i hope you all enjoy this little idea i had. i’ve wanted to write a dystopian story for a while, so i hope you all like this one! lmk if you’d like to be on the taglist for future chapters <3

Another cold morning envelopes your small makeshift campsite. At this point, it’s a miracle you can still wake up in the morning. As you crawl out of your tent, the smell of distant smoke fills your lungs and you wince, still not entirely used to the putrid scent that burns your nostrils.

The world has been basically uninhabitable for around six years, ever since the huge world war that left the earth divided and destroyed. Those who weren’t killed in the brutal fighting have taken refuge in various factions, some peaceful, but most are combative and unapproachable. You prefer to work alone.

Quickly gathering your small tent and other provisions, only items you can easily carry across the countryside, you start to move, scanning the surrounding forest for any hostile animals or people. Feeling somewhat safe for now, you continue on the path. The road is mostly dirt, with weeds and grass littered across it, evidence of a lack of human inhabitance for a very long time.

At this point, you don’t even remember the last time you were in contact with another person. A few months? A year? Two years? Time seems to go by both quickly and slowly, molding together. The sun rises and falls as it always has. You had always thought time was a curious and fickle phenomenon just like the seasons, ebbing and flowing as months and years pass with no change in the world around you.

The dirt and dead leaves crunch beneath your worn tennis shoes as you walk, shivering slightly as a cool breeze carries fog across the path. For many months, you’d been on the search for a place called Haven. You had heard rumors from people you used to stay with when you’d needed to be nursed back to health, back when you’d been attacked by a rogue survivor group with guns.

The family that had found and helped you used to talk of a group of people who are trying to rebuild the broken world. This had pushed you to leave the safety of the family’s home, searching for this allegedly peaceful group. Maybe you could help bring back some normalcy. Besides, what else would you do with the rest of your life if not try to bring back some form of humanity?

The insistent fog is making you uneasy, as much as you try to push down the growing fear you feel inside the pit of your stomach. Every time you hear a twig snap, your heart leaps into your throat, anxiety creeping into your mind.

Taking a deep breath, you push on, knowing at some point you’ll make it to somewhere you can rest.

Suddenly, another twig snaps. You tell yourself it’s a squirrel or deer or something, but something isn’t sitting right. Just as you round the bend, the dirt road leading down a small incline, you hear the unmistakeable sound of a knife being unsheathed. Your heartbeat quickens as you freeze, your eyes squeezing shut. You’re scared to turn around, so you run. As fast as your tired and sore feet will carry you.

It doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re being followed. Closely. Still not daring to look back, you take a right into the woods, hoping to outrun the assailant. Unfortunately, just as you think you might be able to lose them, you trip over a root tangled in the underbrush. With a sharp yelp, you fall, your backpack crashing to the ground with you, the wind leaving your lungs as your chest collides with the hard earth.

As you gasp, trying to regain your breath, you see them. A group of about three men, each wielding various weapons, but the main one a knife, long and sharp. “You think you can outrun us for long, girl?” one of them snarls, stepping closer.

Fear has engulfed you as you try to scoot back, your ankle pulsing with a sharp pain.

“We should take ‘er in, boss.”

“Yeah, she’s young and agile.”

The boss steps closer enough for you to smell the smoke on his clothes, making your nose scrunch with disgust. Just as he’s about to yank you up by the arm, you hear a shot ring out. Your head snaps up, seeing another man, this one hooded and standing on top of the hill, a pistol held in his hands, aimed right at the man hovering above you.

“Let her go.”

The man holding your arm scoffs, not releasing you. “And why should I rele—?”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the hooded man fires another shot, this one hitting one of the men in the arm, making him scream in pain. You’re in shock as the man holding you drops your arm, quickly gathering his men and running in the other direction.

You quickly try to grab your backpack, not knowing whether to trust the man who saved you or not. Knowing you can’t trust anyone, you quickly scramble to your feet, casting one last look at the hooded man before trying to run, ignoring the sharp pain in your ankle.

You don’t make it far before a warm hand grabs your arm, pulling you against a solid chest as his other arm wraps around you, holding you still. “Let me go!”

“Where?” he asks, his voice smooth, not letting you move a single inch despite your struggle against his strong hold. “I saved your life.”

“That means nothing in this world except you’re probably trying to capture me too!” you exclaim, but your foot catches on the ground, sending another shockwave of excruciating pain through your ankle. With a yelp, you lift your ankle off the ground, black dots swimming in your vision.

The man holding you gently releases you, guiding you to lean against a tree. “Easy…” he tells you soothingly.

“W-What do you want from me?” you ask, trying to fight the dizziness.

“Nothing at the moment,” he responds, crouching down to be eye level with you as he slowly removes his hood. You’re met with a head of dark, slightly unkempt hair and surprisingly soft brown eyes that look… worried? “I’ve been trying to stop those guys for a while. The ones that attacked you. They come after every traveler along the main road.”

“Main road?”

“I know,” he sighs, glancing at the mostly dirt path, only a few spots where asphalt peeks through. “Hardly a road anymore, but we still treat it as one.”

“Why’d you save me anyway?” you ask, confused.

“Why not?”

You’re taken aback by this, your eyebrows furrowing slightly as your eyes scan his face, searching for any signs of dishonesty. Finding none, you sigh. “Thank you.”

“Anytime,” he nods, looking down at your ankle. “How bad is it?”

“On a scale of one to ten…” you wince. “Eleven.”

“Can you walk at all?” he asks, standing up and extending a hand to you. You notice the callouses on his slender fingers, making a pang of sympathy shoot through you. Gently taking his hand, you shakily stand, hissing when your foot hits the ground. “Here. Lean against me. I have a… shelter about a mile down the road. You can rest there.”

Nodding, feeling like you don’t really have a choice, you follow him, hoping against hope he isn’t leading you to your death.

When you both make it to the small shack, which, surprisingly, is quite homely on the inside, you’re finally able to rest your ankle.

“What’s your name?” you ask him as he readies an ice pack for your ankle.

“Yunho,” he responds simply, helping you place the cold ice pack against your ankle. “And you?”

“Y/N,” you reply, your gaze drifting to the gun strapped to his hip. “Where’d you find that? I haven’t seen a gun laying around since… the beginning of this mess.”

“Had it since the war,” Yunho replies, making your eyebrows furrow.

“Since the war?” you question curiously, glancing around at his makeshift home. “The only ones who were allowed to have guns were soldiers. They were rationed out that way.”

Yunho’s lips form a small frown, bordering a scowl, at your statement. It’s then you see the label on his pistol. It clicks in your mind. “You were a soldier?”

He simply nods, swallowing thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he continues to ice your ankle.

“Which side?”

His gaze snaps to yours, a hint of vulnerability and surprise flashing in his brown irises as he freezes.

You realize what kind of question you’d asked and you attempt to backtrack before your gaze lands on a uniform. A Dominion uniform. He’d been part of the Order. “You were with them, weren’t you? The Order.”

“I’d rather not talk about it.” Yunho’s tone is clipped and cold as he finishes with the ice pack, standing to put the extra ice back in his old, beaten up freezer.

“No wonder you have a gun,” you mumble, feeling anger rising inside you. “You fought for them. You killed for them, didn’t you?”

He doesn’t respond, his back to you as he leans his hands against the wooden counter, his shoulders tense.

“Had you been with them before they tried to brainwash us? When they were still the military? Or did you join them after they tried to destroy the world?” you ask, your tone growing more and more accusing.

“I don’t think you have the right to ask those things of me when you’re in my home and I saved your life!” Yunho snaps, turning back around to face you. You close your mouth, suddenly remembering the dynamics of your situation. With a curt nod, you let it go, but not without another wary glance in his direction. You’d find out what happened to make him so defensive later, if there is a later.

“Where are you headed?” Yunho asks, sighing, as he sits down on the end of the cot you’re lying on.

“Why do you care?”

“Oh for the love of—“ Yunho takes a deep breath, as if steadying himself. “Just tell me where you’re going.”

“Haven,” you respond, sighing.

“Haven?” Yunho scoffs. “That’s a myth. Made up by dreamers who still had hope.”

“It’s not a myth,” you respond defensively. “It’s real!”

“And where’s your proof?” Yunho asks, crossing his arms, the scoff still playing on his lips.

“I don’t need proof,” you respond, your tone clipped. “I know it exists and I’m going to find them.”

“Suit yourself,” Yunho shrugs, shaking his head. “But the world is cruel to dreamers with hope like you. I learned the hard way not to trust anyone or anything.”

“Then why are you trusting me?” you ask, confused.

“You’re the one at my mercy at the moment,” he responds pointedly, and you slump against the nearly flat pillow, knowing he’s right. “So I’d suggest you start acting like it rather than talking back to me constantly.”

“Whatever,” you grumble, wincing when you move your foot.

“I’m being serious,” Yunho sighs, looking down at you, his gaze softening slightly. “I’ve seen too many people head down the road you’re searching for. Haven, or anything like it, doesn’t exist.”

“You’re a killjoy,” you grumble, frowning.

“Guilty as charged,” Yunho smirks slightly, before sighing. “I’m just trying to save you a worthless trip or a life of searching for something that doesn’t exist and never will.”

“Or…” you trail off slowly, glancing up at him and then the inside of the shack again. “You could help?”

“Help what? Search for Haven?” Yunho shakes his head. “Not a chance. I’m not wasting my time doing something like that.”

“What have you got to lose? This rickety shack?” you gesture to the small room. “Wouldn’t you rather be a part of something bigger?”

“I tried that once,” Yunho scowls. “Didn’t exactly end well.”

“This time will be different. I promise.”

“How can you promise something like that?” Yunho asks, raising an eyebrow skeptically.

“It’s like you said,” you shrug, your eyes meeting his dark ones. “I have hope.”

taglist: @moonlitarcade @kyunlove @hwaretic @oreowooyoung @sunkissedchocobeauty @hannieblue128 @treasuretobefound @thevintagefangirl @byeoliesandeoki @startoftomorrow-blog

[darknight3904]

All Too Well

Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Summary: After meeting Joel one late night at a bar you launch into a whirlwind romance with him. But, between a nasty breakup and the end of the world, you're left with nothing but your thoughts of the past and the way they haunt you all too well.

Warnings: 18+ Mature themes including: language, loss of virginity sexual references, SA (Not by Joel), Animal death, starvation.

Based on the song by Taylor Swift.

Word Count: 6.5k

Series Masterlist / Main Masterlist

Winter 2023

Jackson was a town that was almost too good to be true. You had stumbled upon it nearly 7 years ago after fleeing in the middle of the night from a band of men that had captured you. Your sanctuary was just getting started then, but the group that was working there, welcomed you with open arms and as many supplies as they could spare.

It was your own little slice of paradise in this post-apocalyptic world you were stuck in. Away from FEDRA's iron fist and the horrors that evil people inflicted on others, most days you felt like you were living the life you used to back in 2003.

Of course, some things were different now. The TV in the corner of your living room was useless and most of your meals were communal in the mess hall. But, you loved it all anyway, glad to be away from the harsh world that lay outside the walls.

Even when you were assigned to clean out the horse stables, you loved your community. Jackson was your perfect little universe, undisturbed by the past and-

"Oh, shit...Joel?"

May 2003

College finals were the two scariest words one could say to you right now. Luckily for you, you had managed to somehow pass all of them this semester. Yes, you had somehow even managed an 80 on your biology exam, you still weren't quite sure how that happened. Maybe those 3am nights poured over your books did something.

"We should celebrate tonight." Your friend, Amelia suggested from her spot on the couch

"I was thinking about ordering a pizza." You sigh as you try to work out in your mind how much you have in your bank account. Perhaps you even had enough for some wings too.

"Not like that." She scoffs, " I meant we dress up real slutty and hit some bars. Get some guys to buy us drinks."

"I wanted to watch a movie tonight though." You sigh, thinking of the Blockbuster down the road. The second X-Men movie had come out a few weeks ago and you were dying to see Hugh Jackman on your screen again.

"You can spend the rest of your life as a grandma watching movies. You're only hot once." Amelia laughs

"But-"

"No buts. Your tits are gonna be at your waist one day and you'll thank me for this." Amelia declares before skipping off to her room, mumbling about which top she'd wear.

You sigh as you watch her door close. Amelia Caddel hadn't been your first choice for sharing an off campus apartment. Afterall, she was the opposite of you in so many ways. But, Miss Life of the Party had a steady deposit of allowance in her account from mommy and daddy, meaning she never missed rent, an important factor in a roomate.

"Guess you're spending the night alone." You sigh, looking down at your cat, Loki who purred, clearly wanting a treat or perhaps another heaping bowl of kibble.

Amelia fussed with your hair as the two of you entered your first bar.

"How're you going to pick up a guy if he can't even see your eyes?" She laughs

The stuffy air and the loud music, followed by a group of frat boys cheering for someone, reminded you why you never went out.

You watched with a sigh as she sought out the closest mid twenties guy she could wrestle a few drinks out of. You trailed behind, fidgeting with the skimpy black mini dress she had coaxed you into.

You'd have to hand it to Amelia, you certainly looked hot in it.

The feel of a stranger bumping into you and the sharp scent of aftershave filled your nose, and then big hands were wrapping around your waist, keeping you from stumbling.

"Shit sorry, hon." His Texan accent sent a small shiver down your spine.

"It's fine." You mumble, jumping away from the stranger's arms.

"Tommy, let's go! Quit flirtin' with the college girls!"

The man, Tommy, mumbles another apology to you before disappearing further into the bar, in search of whoever called for him.

Joel watched as his younger brother "accidentally" bumped into some silly college girl who seemed out of her element. Joel couldn't lie, it was something his brain might've come up with if he wasn't so damn tired from today's work. When was laying concrete going to get easier?

The younger Miller brother, who hadn't succumbed to back pain just yet, whispered some false apology in the girl's ears as she jumped away from him.

Joel called for him, he couldn't let Tommy terrorize some poor twenty-something girl who looked like a deer in the headlights under his brother's gaze.

"You're getting too old to be after college kids." Joel chastizes as he sits beside Tommy at the bar.

"Oh c'mon." Tommy scoffs as he orders a beer for himself and Joel.

"You're thirty, you're not some mid-twenties loser anymore." Joel points out.

"You're no fun, Joel," Tommy says with a roll of his eyes

Joel wanted to go home. He'd wanted to go home hours ago but Tommy had dragged him out after they finally finished working on their latest project, the new local Subway was nicely constructed by the Miller brothers.

Yet, here he sat, a few hours later, Two and a half beers deep, listening to Tommy try his hand at karaoke. Joel was pretty sure his ears were bleeding as his eyes scanned the bar. Most of the patrons were so drunk, they cheered Tommy on.

Joel found his eyes settling on the girl Tommy had "bumped" into earlier. She was still alone, sat across the room at a high-top table, sipping at some fruity drink. Pretty red heels were linked on the footrest of the barstool and Joel watched as she fumbled with her purse, looking for something with a deep frown across her pretty features.

If Joel didn't have a 13-year-old waiting on him back home, he might have slipped across the bar and sweet talked his way into this girl's arms. But the thought of Sarah back home, watching TV with Mrs. Addler had his ass glued to his barstool.

Instead, he observes as you finally find your phone and make a call. He watches as your features droop in disappointment as you yell over Tommy's singing to whoever was on the other end. Joel watched with a bit of amusement as you nearly fell off the stool when you went to stand up, you must've forgotten you linked those heels onto the footrest.

Joel let out a grumble of disappointment as Tommy launched into the beginning of Don't Stop Believin' by Journey. Why had he been given the world's most annoying little brother?

Joel's eyes turn back to the mystery girl and her delicate red heels just as some frat guy from Alpha Delta- who fuckin' cares, slings an arm around her waist, hand dipping too close to the hem of her skirt for Joel to be comfortable with.

As if he's on autopilot, Joel finds himself crossing the bar in long strides, ready to put a stop to whatever might come next.

"I don't see your friend now." The guy laughs as you shift your weight from foot to foot, clearly uncomfortable.

Joel hears you mumble something about wanting to go home.

"I'll give you a ride."

The guy's sleazy tone has Joel cringing as he approaches. DId anyone teach these kids manners?

"Why don't you give the lady some space?" Joel suggests boldy

Alpha-Delta-Chad turns around to meet Joel's gaze, not releasing you just yet as he scoffs,

"Who the fuck are you? Her dad?"

"Just a concerned stranger." Joel nods to you in greeting, "She doesn't seem too comfortable with you, kid. Give her some room."

"How would you even know old man?" The boy asks, "You're like forty!"

Ouch. Joel was 35. Did he really look 40? Already?

"Let her go," Joel says, his voice deepening a bit

The frat boy's eyes scan Joel's figure. Either he decides you're not worth it, or that he'd lose the fight because before Joel knows it he's letting you go and murmuring another curse at Joel.

"Thank you." You breathe a sigh of relief, and a small smile graces your pretty face as Joel nods.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

The name slips out of Joel's mouth before he can stop it and he watches in amusement as you blink away in embarrassment.

Your eyes roam across his frame and Joel can't quite place the look on your face as you...size him up?

"Could you um...walk me to the bus stop? I'd go myself but I'm worried that guy might be waiting for me outside." You ask

Joel wants to say no. He wants to stay tucked away in the bar, sipping his beer, and hope Tommy accidentally swallows the microphone he's singing into. Yet, one look into your sad, and definitely drunk eyes has him folding.

"Sure, I'll walk ya."

A warm breeze blows through the air as your savior is beside you at the bus stop. He'd insisted on waiting beside you until the bus showed up, saying something about having a daughter back home and it not being right to leave you alone out here.

"So...what's your name?" You ask, your drunk mind disliked silences.

"Joel. Joel Miller." He says, "You?"

You softly say your name, shy under his gaze.

Maybe its the three margaritas but the man next to you is hot. Short brown curly hair with dark eyes to match. Not to mention the splatter of facial hair and mustache he seemed to pull off so effortlessly. He was definitely much older than you, at least over ten years your senior. But, he was attractive in the ways all the college boys in your classes weren't.

Your eyes raked over tanned arms, toned perfectly from whatever he did to get them. You could tell he was sporting a handsome dad bod under the plain blue t-shirt on his frame. You'd never been one for a rippling six-pack, a man who'd eat pizza and ice cream with you was always going to be attractive than one who spent his days drinking protein shakes and eating eggs for "gains". Joel seemed like a guy who'd be into a binge-watch of every Star Wars movie and indulge with you in an impulsive 2am Domino's order.

"Where the hell is this bus at?"

His deep voice had you snapping from your drunken daydream of pizza and dad bods.

"Oh um..."

You're not quite sure where the bus is. Hopefully, it'd show soon. Your legs felt like a newborn deer's, no way would you be able to walk the seven and a half miles back to your apartment like this.

"Joel!"

Another voice has you and your new companion turning your heads. Another man, somehow a bit familiar in your drunk brain is approaching.

"What're you doin' man? You missed my singing."

"I heard enough." Joel huffs in annoyance

Oh, so this was the guy who was badly singing to Brittney Spears and Journey. He looked a bit more familiar though...this was the dude that had bumped into your earlier!

"Now if I'm too old to be goin' after college girls, then you're definitely too old, brother."

"I'm not...Not goin' after anyone. I'm waiting for the bus with her. Some creep was hitting on her at the bar, I'm keeping her safe." Joel groans at this man's comment.

So he wasn't interested? You felt your heart sink a bit. Of course, he wasn't interested. He had a kid for crying out loud.

Oh god, what if he had a wife? Were you daydreaming about a married man?

Your eyes jump to his left hand.

Ringless.

Well, at least you weren't fantasizing about being a homewrecker.

"The bus? It's past midnight. The bus stops running at 11:30." The new guy says, looking at his watch.

"Oh...um. I'll just go then." You say, standing up on unsteady legs. Looks like you're walking. You didn't have the money for a cab, so your legs were just going to have to tough this one out.

"Go? Go where?" Joel's friend scoffs

You ignore him, he's so weird.

"Tommy, stop it." Joel scolds

He sounds like such a dad as you laugh to yourself while smoothing your dress out.

"Do you want us to give you a ride?" Joel asks, standing up next to you

"No, I can manage the walk." You brush him off, trying to ignore the way he's so tall all of a sudden.

You were even wearing heels and he was bigger than you!

"I can call a cab," Joel suggests, watching the way your ankle nearly twists when you take a step.

"I don't have any money for one." You whimper, as the pain in your ankle shoots up your leg.

Fuck these heels. Fuck Amelia for ditching you for another bar. Fuck Joel had his stupid dad bod and tanned skin. Fuck the stupidly attractive mustache on his stupidly attractive face.

This always happened when you were drunk. First, your legs turned into literal Jello and then you'd get all weepy about nothing. At least you'd have seven miles to cry your eyes out. Hopefully, Loki would let you hold him when you got home.

"Let me give you a ride. Do you live on campus?" Joel asks his eyes widening at the tears that dribble down your face.

"I'm just gonna walk." You mumble and bush past him, forcing your legs into an unsteady match.

"That's like...an 8-mile walk," Tommy says from behind you, estimating the distance between here and the college.

"Actually seven and a half." You sass, not interested in his comments or his stupid aftershave that invaded your nose as you walked past him.

You're not entirely sure how you ended up here, in the back seat of a pick up truck while Joel drove you home. You mumbled your address to him and he'd somehow known immediately where you were living.

Hopefully, you weren't going to end up dead in a ditch tonight.

Joel watched as you rested your head against the window. He'd walked you to his truck after you got a few feet away from him before sitting down on the curb, tears running down your pretty face, mumbling something about a cat.

"Fuckin' college girls." Tommy had mumbled as he helped Joel buckle you into your seat

"Let's just get her home," Joel said

"Yeah before she turns the waterworks back on." Tommy sighed

Joel drives towards the shitty apartments they rent to college kids. Two blocks away he had once been working in a fancy new condo building, putting up drywall and laying flooring. There'd been talk about developing your area as well, but six months later the apartments of Oliver Avenue were still as shitty as ever.

Joel guaranteed you were getting ripped off by your landlord. Probably paying too much for someplace that had thin walls and bad heating. Sure enough, he was right, as he parked his trunk in front of a building that badly needed a makeover.

"Stay here." He tells Tommy who seems to be a few moments away from falling asleep in the passenger seat.

Joel pulls you from the backseat, shoving Sarah's soccer ball back under the seat when it rolls out and tries to escape.

"Alright, what floor?" Joel asks as you stand beside him, tears finally dried up.

You wordlessly begin to plod your way up the steps and murmur what sounds like a five to him.

Joel makes sure you get your door open and watches as a black cat greets you as you push the door open.

"Hi, baby." You coo at the cat, scooping him up. "Did you miss me?"

Joel feels his heart speed up as you sweet-talk your pet. He tries to banish the idea of you talking to him like that, carding your hands through his hair, rather than this little black cat with a green collar and golden bell around his neck.

"Thank you, Joel." You say as you spin around to face him

"No problem." He hums, "Glad I was able to help."

You smile at him as your damn cat meows loudly, breaking the trance you had on him.

"Goodnight, sweetheart."

"Goodnight, Joel."

July 2003

The fourth of July was serious business in Austin. From mega barbeques to fireworks that put Magic Kingdom to shame, your sleepy little college town was transformed for America's birthday.

A much-needed breeze flows through the park as you sit on the blanket you'd found shoved at the back of your closet. Summer was brutal this year, and you were sure that the Texas heat wasn't making the wait for fireworks any easier.

Your parents had invited you back home to Pittsburgh this summer. But, you found yourself more interested in staying put in Austin. Your sleepy suburb town back home would always be there, no sense in spending your summer cooped up in your childhood room. At least here you could go out whenever you wanted.

"Dad, let's go! All the good spots are going to be taken!!"

A young girl's voice drifts across the park as you turn to watch her pull what must be her father along.

"Hold on, Sarah! You're gonna make me drop all this."

"Move faster then!"

Well, shit.

Joel Miller, the savior of drunk college girls, was here in the park, walking towards you.

Your eyes widen as you take him in. At least you know it wasn't just the alcohol talking, Joel Miller was just as devastatingly good-looking now as he was a month and a half ago when he drove you home from the bar.

"H-Hi." You awkwardly stammer as he passes by you, arms full with a small cooler and a big blanket.

"Hello." He says, quickly

The double take he does is almost comical as he looks at you.

"Sarah!" He calls after the girl, "Come back here!"

"Didn't think I'd ever see you again." You smile, standing up from your own spot

"Well, I do live around here." He says with a lopsided smile that makes him look a bit more boyish.

The girl, Sarah, returns to her father's side.

"Hi." She says a bit flatly, clearly annoyed her father has stopped his march across the park to what she had deemed the perfect spot.

"Hello." You greeted her, with a soft smile.

She was so cute, with dark curly hair and black shorts paired with a pretty green and blue t-shirt. Sparkly sandals caught your eye as she stepped a bit closer to Joel, looking up at him for an explanation.

Joel introduces you to her, "I helped her out a month ago, got her home safe."

You're beyond elated he's standing in front of you again. For a little bit you swore he was a hallucination you'd dreamt up in a drunken haze. A handsome Texan man who'd driven you home safely after rescuing you from some sleaze. Amelia had scolded you for hours when she found out you hadn't gotten his number.

"Super safe." You smile at him.

Joel feels a nervous sweat break out on his forehead. Here he was with his daughter ready to watch their fireworks like they always did each year and he was flirting with a girl like he was 17 again. He'd be lying if you weren't on his mind regularly. The way you'd been dressed that night haunted him at night as he lay in bed, your sweet voice filled his ears as he went about his days. He'd wondered if you only used that tone for your cat.

"You two want to sit with me? I'm not sure if these are the best seats in the house but I do have some popcorn I can share..." You trail off, giving a smile to Sarah who enthusiastically agrees at the idea of free food.

Joel settles next to you as Sarah talks your ears off about soccer practices and the pool party Joel took her to a few weeks ago. He watches as you listen intently to his daughter's words. So rarely does a woman he's interested in take time to talk to Sarah. Yet, here you were, in college and interacting with his daughter better than most grown women did.

"So how old are you?"

Joel nudges Sarah with his shoe, doesn't she know that's a rude question? He could've sworn he taught her better.

"I'm 23. 24 this August." You say

"Wow," Sarah says

You turn away for a moment, reaching for the bag of popcorn that sits behind you. Joel's eyes widen as he watches Sarah silently mouth to him,

"She's so old!"

If you were old, did that mean he was ancient? God, how old did his daughter view him as? He could've sworn 35 wasn't that bad. Maybe it was though...

"So, 23. You're graduating soon then, yeah?" Joel asked

"I wish." You sigh, "I took a gap year after high school, and then just couldn't find the right major for a bit. I'm technically on track to become a Physician Assistant but I dunno if it's right for me."

Joel nods, he knows the feeling, not knowing if what you're doing is right. He'd felt that way when Sarah was born, and then when her mother left them, and then every time Sarah was hurt or crying, or just not perfectly happy, Joel felt that way, unsure of himself.

"You'd make a great PA, Sweetheart." Joel genuinely says, placing a hand over yours

"Thanks." You say a bit flustered at the physical contact.

"Gross," Sarah comments at what's unfolding before her eyes.

"You're gross." Joel counters, not missing a beat to tease her.

Sarah sticks her tongue out at him in retaliation, and Joel does the same.

You spend the rest of your summer with the Millers. In between public pool trips, and catching fireflies in the backyard, you somehow end up entangled with Joel. Staying up on the couch beside him, watching movie after movie when Sarah drifted off into dreamland up in her bed.

Before you know it, Joel is picking you up for dates and meeting you at coffee shops to let you talk his ears off about whatever book you've picked up for the week.

You let Joel take your virginity on a humid August night. After sending Sarah off to her friend's house you let him pull you into his room and under the sheets.

Breathless and sweaty you rest your head on his chest.

"You okay?" Joel asks quietly, running a hand up and down your back

"Mmhm." You sigh dreamily

"Didn't hurt you or nothin'?" He asks

"I'm okay, Joel." You laugh

"Just checking." He mumbles

Joel looks a bit out of place as he sits on your couch. Sarah had a week of soccer camp and the two of you decided to spend it together. Loki jumps up on the cushion beside Joel and lets out a loud meow.

"Pet him." You suggest with a shrug

"He doesn't even like me." Joel huffs staring into your cats eyes

"You nearly sat on him the first time you were here." You remind Joel of his previous crime from a week ago.

"I thought he was a throw pillow." Joel defends himself, motioning to the many pillows you and Amelia had scattered around the apartment.

"You thought I had a green-eyed pillow that meowed?"

"I dunno what you women are into, you're all so confusing."

You let out a scoff before plopping down on the couch next to him, Loki climbing into your lap and purring as you scratch behind his ears.

"The only confusing one here is you, Joel Miller."

Tommy isn't as bad as you thought he was.

Scratch that, he's fantastic, pulling out old photos of Joel from over the years. You nearly piss yourself though when he whips out an old family album. A nine-year-old Joel stares back at you as you look at an old photo of him playing tee-ball.

"Look how cute you were!" You gasp as you run your fingers across the photograph

"Joel Miller, star tee-ball player!" Tommy teases his big brother.

You smile as you watch Joel's face turn red as you take in even more photographs of him as a kid, you even see his 10th-grade photo, yes the one where he has braces and the worst case of acne known to mankind.

By the time the Texas heat begins to ease off and the leaves begin to change colors, you're head over heels in love with Joel Miller. From the way his eyes crinkle when he smiles, to the way he'd dance with you in the dead of the night while the refrigerator door hung open, the light reflecting off your bodies as you laughed in his arms.

Three months, such a short time, and yet so much had happened. You tried to focus on the Anatomy lesson your professor was talking about in front of you yet you found your mind occupied with something else. It was as if you had been possessed, nothing but Joel filled your mind as you scribbled your notes onto your notebook. Anatomy class be damned, you were going to go mad thinking of him like this.

Your birthday, August 29th rolled around faster than you thought it would. You hadn't seen Joel all week. Between your classes, Sarah's soccer and school, and Joel's contracting, you had only time to talk to him briefly on the phone.

You had reached out to Joel earlier today to invite him to a small birthday party Amelia had insisted on. Nothing special, just some pizza and cupcakes, a cheap beer or two.

But now, it was going on 10:30 and Joel was nothing but a whisper in the wind. Sadness weighed on your chest as you watched the front door, hoping for a knock that would signal his arrival.

"Hey...I think we should just go to bed..."Amelia suggests softly from her spot next to you.

"No, he's coming." You mumble sadly tears tickling your waterline,

You stare at the last cupcake that sits on the coffee table. It was meant to be for Joel. You had scooped it out of the box thinking about how nice the icing looked on it. You had wanted him to have the best one in the box, even if that meant your own was a little lopsided and missing sprinkles.

Amelia pulls you into her side, letting you rest your head on her shoulder. She gently wraps her arm around you and quietly says,

"It's supposed to be fun, turning 24..."

September 2003

Three days pass before you hear from Joel again. His voice on the other end of the phone call is paralyzing as your world comes crashing down. The phone beeps as the call ends and you stand at your kitchen counter in shock, shocked that he's ending it all like this, with a phone call.

"If we had been closer in age, maybe it would've been fine."

His words bounce around in your mind as you slam your phone down on the counter. Loki jumps from his spot on the windowsill meowing as you cross the room quickly.

You pulled your covers over your head, blocking out the world as you heard Amelia return from her ethics class.

"If we had been closer in age, maybe it would've been fine."

God, that made you want to die. What did he even think of you? That you were some wide-eyed college kid who just existed in limbo for him?

You spend the next week in bed, plagued with tears and anger as you curse Joel out at least 1000 times a day. The knock at your door and Amelia entering your room with a box has you startled.

"What's this?" You sniff

"UPS guy just left it at our front door." She says before setting it on the bed and leaving you again.

You cut the box open and find your things inside it. Little things you'd left at Joel's over the summer. Hair ties, a brush, deodorant, t-shirts, and sweaters, even a photograph of you, Sarah, and him at the aquarium is nestled between the pages of a book you kept on his nightstand to read to him before the two of you dozed off. The box holds your entire relationship as you dump it out on your bed.

The scent of Joel, masculine and inviting clings to your belongings just like the way it clings to your heart.

Your hands shift through the items again, the scarf you wore to Tommy's house is missing. You had left it there and Joel had promised to return it to you.

"Who wears a scarf in Texas?" Joel snorts

"I do! And you better give it back, Miller." You groan

"I'll get it to you, sweetheart. Don't worry about it."

You wonder what has become of your scarf now. Perhaps it's sitting in a drawer in his room, nestled among his belongings, looking horribly out of place. Or maybe it's stuck in his truck, shoved under the seats under the pretense that it would make its way back to you one day.

You wonder what has become of Joel now. Perhaps he's lying in his own bed right now, thinking of you, your scarf wrapped around his hands, smelling of you and all his failures.

You wonder if this love affair bruised him the way it did you.

God, you had so many regrets.

December 2003

Cold air fills your lungs as your feet ache beneath you. Snow gently fell down as you sighed quietly. The walk into your hometown was no joke. The shitty beater car you'd stolen had died about 50 miles ago, leaving you vulnerable and scared.

Loki meowed from his crate as you quietly walked along. You shushed him and dropped a few treats behind the bars of the crate. He was going to need food soon if you intended to stay alive, your traveling companion wasn't known for holding his tongue when it came to hunger. The last thing you needed was to have an infected try to kill you because of your pet.

It had been nearly 5 days on the road now. and You'd managed to drive from Austin to Pittsburgh all on your own armed with a shotgun and a map you'd found in the glove compartment.

The past few months had been spent in Joel's basement. After things started going south outside your apartment building, you stuffed Loki into his carrier and filled a two big duffle bags with food and clothes for you and supplies for your cat before managing to somehow sneak into the parking deck and jump into your car. Amelia had never returned from her boyfriends house that night. You knew you couldn't go looking for her though, his home was nearly 25 miles away while Joel's was only 10.

It was mid-morning on September 27th when you reached Joel's place. The other neighborhood homes were empty and you nearly threw up at the sight of Mrs. Adler's mother lying face down on the driveway.

Your heart sinks when you discover Joel and Sarah are already gone. You hadn't expected them to be here yet, a part of you had hoped they'd be. It was Joel's birthday yesterday, you wondered how he'd spent his last normal day. Knowing him, he'd probably been at work all day.

You barricade the doors before slipping into the basement. Joel had spent time finishing it so it was nice for Sarah's sleepovers. You let Loki out before returning upstairs to bring down every nonperishable food item the home had to offer.

And so, there you sat with your cat, in your ex's basement, willing for him to magically appear and tell you everything was going to be okay.

March 2017

The Pittsburgh QZ was fucked. Royally fucked. The loud explosion from some truck filled your ears as you zipped your backpack shut. Loki let out a meow of protest as he disappeared in your bag. He was nearly 15 and his attitude about backpack travel wasn't improving.

You stick to the back alleys as you work towards finding an out. A decent-sized hole in a fence catches your eye and you take your chances, better than getting blown up by the Fireflies or FEDRA.

You're about 4 miles away from the carnage when a sizeable group catches your eye. They must've gotten out just like you.

A man, David, shares a can of flavorless chili with you and you sit on the ground beside him. But, the more you listen to him talk, you can't help but think he's a total nutcase. You thank him for the chili and the 8 cans of chicken noodle soup he's shared with you and decline his offer to join the group.

"We have so much to offer." He says in a soft voice, gesturing to the people scattered around eating and talking amongst themselves.

"I'll stick to just him, thanks though." You say petting Loki's head as you pull him from your backpack to place the cans of food inside.

"Suit yourself."

April 2017

You had dozed off. A rookie mistake to make in the apocalypse.

They had been on you before you knew what was happening. With nothing but a knife to your name to protect yourself, you were hopelessly outgunned.

"Look at what we have here." A deep voice booms, "A girl wondering in my woods, must be my lucky day."

A smelly man stands in front of you, and about 8 other men are circled around you. You squeeze your eyes shut as he lets a dirty finger trail over your face.

"How pretty."

A loud hiss cuts his next sentence. Loki, you brave boy, has climbed out of your backpack where he had been taking a nap. His back has hunched up and you don't miss the way his dark black fur is bristling in the low light of the sun disappearing behind the trees.

You aren't even able to try to arrange a deal for your baby as the man pulls a large knife from his belt and carelessly throws it at your cat.

A horrible screech from Loki fills your ears as the man coos at you and tells you it'll all be okay.

"We've got dinner boys!" The man who has killed your only friend in the whole world exclaims.

Your eyes slam shut as red blood begins to seep into the fabric of your backpack. The man says something about being a provider but you're too focused on choking back the tears that are forming in your eyes.

Hours later, you're tied to a tree stump, your arms behind your back. Your captors present you with a warm soup of sorts. Canned carrots and potatoes float in a clear broth but it's what sits in the center of the bowl that turns your stomach. What's left of your Loki is now being devoured by the men.

You can't do it. You had been starving, unable to catch anything for days. but you can't do it.

"Fine, don't eat." The leader and cat killer huffs as he runs his hands across your chest in an unpleasant matter, "You're going to wish you had though when we're done with you."

June 2017

The moon is your only light as you steal away into the night. Your heart is pounding but you can't or rather won't look back.

Your escape is credited to a man named Adam. He had always been softer to you than the rest. Less brutal than the others when he bent you over a tree stump and forced himself into your unwilling body, cooing in your ears about how good you felt even though you were dry.

Softer and easy to fool when you batted your eyelashes at him so he'd give you a second serving of the deer they'd killed. Gentle when he cleaned whatever wounds the others inflicted on you for their sick pleasure.

Tonight, you had used his softness against him. Crying and whimpering when he tied you to a tree, saying the restraints were too tight. He'd of course taken pity on you and loosened them before kissing your forehead and walking off to sleep.

It had been easy to slip out of the ropes thanks to Adam. You stole his backpack and stuffed it with as much deer jerky as you could get your hands on before snatching a gun off Adam's unknowing form.

Now, you were stumbling through the night, hoping to put as much distance between you and the men as possible.

Nearly three weeks had passed and you were still somehow free. The men hadn't found you and you were deep into the wilderness. Your freedom was something you had yearned for since the moment Loki had died. Yet, here you were, starving and wasting away because you couldn't kill anything to eat.

You drag your body into an old concrete building that was being used to control some form of dam. You rested your head on your backpack, thinking of how far you'd come.

Strangely though, you thought of your past. Fuzzy images of a college classroom came into your brain. Amelia's long blonde hair and the way she'd style it perfectly each day. Texas summers, filled with heat and perfectly seasoned barbeque.

What you wouldn't do for a big plate of ribs right now.

And then the curly hair of a little girl is dancing around your mind. Her warm laughter fills your mind as you think of Sarah Miller. With her sparkle filled sandals and her strange interest in gore filled horror films. You wondered if she was still out there somewhere. Perhaps stuck in some QZ with Joel.

Joel.

You think about Joel. You're sure you've thought of him more in the past three months than you did your whole relationship. Every night when one of your captors, or sometimes multiples had you every which way, you'd try to think about other things. Those other things often divulged into Joel and how gentle he'd been with you. Oh, how you missed his warm arms and soft southern twang. Hou you yearned for him even now. Your only real relationship experience was something you just couldn't let go.

When you were finally found by Maria, you were nearly ready for death. Brain filled with delusional thoughts of the past and starving, she had hoisted you up on her horse and rode off to Jackson, praying this mystery woman wouldn't die on the way there.

Winter 2023

You nearly fall over when his tired eyes meet yours. The loud voice of a young girl fills your ears.

"Do you two know each other?"

You push the stable door open to get a better look at the man who stands before you. For so many years you had pictured the man you dated for a few months, not trying to imagine the way the end of the world might've changed him. Your mind can't reconcile the Joel you once knew and the one before you.

For starters, he looks so tired. Graying curly hair sits atop his head, a salt and pepper beard adorns his face. Even his frame has changed, the winter coat he wears hides it but you can tell he's become riddled with muscle to take on the harsh outside world. The only thing that seems the same is his mustache, somehow untouched by time.

"Joel, wait up! There's something I gotta tell ya!"

Tommy's loud voice carries from wherever he is and you want to laugh at the younger Miller brother. Of course, he was going to try to intercept your meeting. Too bad he was too slow.

"Joel? Hello? Do you know her?" The girl asks again.

You glance at her, she can't be more than 14 or 15. Her pale skin is rosy against the cold Wyoming winter. She looks at you, probably for an answer since all Joel is doing is staring at you, most likely in shock.

Eventually, though, the man of the hour opens his mouth to speak,

"No, I don't know her."

This is my first time writing for Joel, hope you enjoyed :)

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