Hiyaaa Its Me Again And Im With Ch.5 And Im Soo Excited For Yall To Read This, Shit Is About To Go Down(in

Hiyaaa it’s me again and I’m with Ch.5 and I’m soo excited for y’all to read this, shit is about to go down(in a good way and maybe a little bad too 👀) but I can’t believe I made this far, I never thought I would be a writer being a long time reader, but I’m also ready to write to ch.6 (👀), so y’all have fun reading this chapter as much I wrote this, and thank you for taking the time to read this love story.

Summary: It’s the Fourth of July weekend and boy are you happy to spend some time with your boys but with your momma being there it will still be a fun time, and with the pigs crashing the party nothing bad will happen (right?)

Warings: afab-reader, n-word usage, cursing, inter action w/ police, talk of police brutality (one scene) kissing, smut, blowjob, fingering, squirting, unprotected p-in v, missionary, cum-eating, doggystyle (I think that’s all, lmk if I miss anything 💕)

Wordcount: 4.3k mdni! (18+) happy reading!!

This takes place in episode 5

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Opening your eyes to look at your light pink curtains blowing in the breeze of your room, stretching above your head, feeling your bones shake uncontrollably, slowing rising up you pull off the covers, you stand on your tippy toes getting a full body stretch still feeling sleepy, a yawn comes out, walking out of your room in to the bathroom, you brush your teeth and wash your face, then you do your business, walking out to see your momma making something “Good morning momma, what’cha makin’?” your momma turns around “Good morning baby, and I’m makin’ mac n’ cheese, oh also I bought some chocolate chip cookies, so you can bring that.” you can’t believe your momma is actually coming with you, definitely cramping your style but can you still talk to your friends? “Hey momma I have a question for you?” “Yes baby.” “You think I can still talk to Frankie, Lee, and Kev?” your momma stops at her layering and turns to look at you, her eyes shift down and back at you “Yes you can, only because it’s gonna be at Jerome’s but don’t have to be all day thing okay.” you nod your head “Thank you momma, I’ll try to keep it short when we’re at the party.” your momma returns back to her layering, you hear your stomach growling, you walk to the fridge to see your leftover spaghetti, you grab the container out setting it on the counter, you grab a plate and setting it down next to the container, getting a healthy amount of what you want and warming it up in the microwave, you take a seat at the table waiting for you food, your see your momma taking the aluminum foil and wrapping it around the dish and putting it in the oven and shutting it close “Okay just two hours in there and then it should be done.” the beeper goes off grabbing the steaming plate and setting it down and start eating your food. Feeling satisfied, when you're done you wash your plate and set it on the drying rack “Did you wanna watch so tv momma?” Your momma nods her head and starts walking to the living room and taking a seat, you walk next to her, your momma turns to the tv seeing good time’s playing on the screen, you relax on the couch, basking in this little moment with your momma.

Eventually you both hear the timer go off, your momma gets up to check on the food “Mhmm now that’s what you call mac n’ cheese, now just a few minutes in the broiler and it’s done, hey lexi why don’t you get dress this is about to be done sweetie.” you rise up from the coach to walk to your room closing the door. You change into a yellow t-shirt and some shorts, you put your socks and shoes on, you walk to your mirror taking off your bonnet off, grabbing your pick and combing it threw your hair, forming in a perfect circle, when your done, you walk to your back-pack opening the front pocket to see your necklace you put it on, tucking it under your shirt walking out of your room seeing your momma dress in a blue blouse and some pants and platform shoes, she’s covering the pan with top, walking to grab a large cloth for her hands, you walk into the kitchen to grab a plastic a container for the cookies layering them in a circle and closing the top “You ready Lexi?” “Yeah momma, let’s go.”

Your momma locks the front door and starts walking the steps you start to follow her on the inside of the sidewalk towards to Jerome and Louie house, hearing a rap music on the corner, seeing fellow blacks folks dancing and laughing with red cups in their hands, some folks playing dominos the kids running in and out of the house, Jerome walks out his house with a loud speaker telling Kev to move his shit out of the way, a woman walks up to your momma asking the take the food from her and wanting to setting on the table for everybody you momma turns to you “Go have fun baby, I’m gonna see to find you a new daddy.” She starts laughing and starts walking to some man in a fedora hat, you walk closer to the house, seeing Frankie talking to Melody asking about the bread pudding she had, you see Frankie turn to see you and giving back to Melody and starts walking up to you, he gives a hug feeling his strong arms touching you, he leans in, but you stop him “My momma is here so we can’t.” a small frown on his face and steps back to see if your momma is looking, thankfully she’s not “Hey let me take these from you, also Kev and Lee are here too.” Melody starts to walk up to you both “Hey Franklin, maybe I can see you later after the party huh?” you see her puffing up her chest, her eyes looking at him ‘Oh fuck no’ in your mind, you walk inbetween him, looking her in eyes “You back the fuck from him.” Melody eyes looking straight at you “Fine get my sloppy second then.” Balling your fist tightly, ready to deck this bitch on the ground “Mel you need to leave I don’t need you here, startin’ shit.” you smile at her “You heard him Melody leave.” you put your hand out telling her to move it, Melody looking timid walking back to her house, putting her head down holding hard ass brick pudding.

Frankie touches your arm “Come with to set these cookies Kev and Lee are here too.” you waved at a couple of your neighbors, everyone was in good spirits, seeing Cissy on the grill and dancing with Louie for a man “You hungry baby?” shaking your head no “I had spaghetti this morning so I’m full from that.” you hear Cissy say ‘Hell no’ and walking up to Frankie’s father . Frankie follows behind his mother “Mama hold up.” you stay back at the table not wanting your momma see you in the saint drama, you walk up the steps Lee and Kev talking to each other “Hey y’all.” “Ayeee Lexi!” coming from both of them “When did you get here?” coming from Kev “I just got here actually, but my momma is here with me.” “That’s cool. Did your mama make her mac n’ cheese too?” Lee said “She did and I made some cookies too.” they both starting laughing “Lexi I know you didn’t make any cookies, you know your ass can’t cook.” Lee is busting out laughing, running away almost from you both, you lightly punch at Kev “Oh yeah Kev and when was the last time you made something huh.” seeing Cissy walking up the house “Jerome, get your crazy ass down from there.” hearing Jerome voice coming from the roof “Now Cissy, look I’m just gettin started up here.” Hearing his lighter going off, thinking Jerome is about to light off some fireworks

Frankie walks up the steps, he dabs up Lee a Kev and gives you a hug at the end, you look at him “Hey you good?” “Yeah I am.” not wanting to put any pressure on him and nodded “Aye man we need to talk.”Lee said “What’s up.” “Kev wants in, and just hear the man out. I don’t need a damn thing” “I’m just tryin’ to keep this shit low-key.” He sighs “Look, all I’m saying is strength in numbers.” Lee points at all of you “And if you ask me, we already one nigga over capacity.” Lee looks in-shock “And what about Lexi huh ain’t she one nigga over capacity?” You look at lee “What the fuck Leon.” He puts a hand on Lee's shoulder “Lexi here she told me from the beginning that she wants to be in this and so she doesn’t count and since she’s my girl I want her in this now, next to me and if those fools get outta pocket I’m-a handle it. But until then it’s still a straight up ‘if.” Lee looking perplexed “Hey look JJ’s dead.” Kev perks up “Wait a sec? What?” “One of Karvel’s boys, got lit up this morning both him and his girl. Shit could’ve gone down a number of ways.” you all walk down the steps to be interrupted by Frankie’s father “You cats mind?”

Frankie follows his father to have a conversation.

You know you shouldn’t be ear-hustlin’ to them, but you couldn’t help it. Hearing that Frankie bailed his out of jail this morning and knowing that he could never pay him back, Frankie looking fed up with his sob story and telling his father to ‘Shut the fuck up.’ and his father couldn’t believe his and repeated the word and frankie nods his head “Yeah man just shut the fuck, huh I don’t need your sorry. I don’t need to hear any of that shit.” your eyes are on frankie now and his father says “Sorry? What the fuck I got be sorry for….all I’ve ever wanted to do was be my own man, And I couldn’t be ashamed of that if I wanted to.” Frankie eyes looking at his father not breaking eye contact “I’ve got new for you what you. What you are ain’t no fuckin’ man!” “Okay and you would know that it?… Shit. You ain’t gotta fuckin’ clue. Cause if you did, then why’d you come lookin’ for me?” Frankie puts his head down, then a loud bang starts going off everyone looks up at the commotion, causing Jerome to back away from the fireworks and then falling off the roof, you turn to look at Frankie, seeing him coming towards you “Hey you okay?” “Yeah, just Jerome scared me with them damn fireworks.” your momma coming towards you as well “What are you doing with him Alexia?” Frankie speaks up first “Mrs. Johnson Lexi was just scared of the fireworks and I just wanted to see if she was okay.” you nod your head “He’s right momma. It just scared me little momma.” Frankie nods his head and starts walking towards Lee and Kev “Come on baby, let’s go grab a plate and and can you make a plate for us for later.” Momma said “Of course momma.”

A few hours later

The moon is shining on you, looking at the moon seeing how beautifully large it is. You feel a hand on your waist pulling you closer turning to see your Frankie “What’cha lookin’ at?” “The moon, don’t you think she look so pretty.” Frankie giggles “What’cha you think the moon is a girl Lexi.” “Why not? I think the moon is girl and you could be my sun.” “Mhmm you do shine in the moonlight.” You smile and putting your head down, he lifts your chin up to softly kiss you, his full gracefully touching you, his bites your lip, you put your hand on his shoulders slowly pushing him away “My momma is still here. You can’t be actin’ like this.” He pouts, pushing his lips out, you kiss him “Look at you mhmm you said we need to stop.” He pulls away smirking down at you “ haven’t told you yet but you look pretty today.” Your roll your eyes “Thank you Frankie.” Two cop cars roll up to the house with there lights on four white cops come out with the uniforms on “Who owns the house?” One of them says “It’s my mutherfucken house.” Jerome walks up to one of the cops, Cissy walks in front of Jerome “Is there a problem officer?” “There has been a report of gunshots coming off the roof.” “It’s just some fireworks. We do it every year.” “And what about the weed and the open containers.. is that a part of the ritual too.” Seeing what’s happening, is something you see all too well, cops coming into black neighborhoods terrorizing, and using force for no reason “Are you for-real? Hey yo, you real right now? It’s independence day” Jerome not believing his ears said, "Hey sir, you need to check your attitude.” Frankie walked from you to come closer to the officers “And you need to check the nuts!” You follow him “Franklin. Stop” trying to pull him away, he slips out of your grip to face the cops “Frankie please?” Cissy pushes him back “No. We’re not doing this today. All right?” Cissy steps in front of everyone “I’m not moving until we have a civil goddamn conversation, come on now.” the officers coming toward Frankie and pushing Cissy out the way “Wanna have a drink.” “The fuck you doin’ “ Frankie look at the cop, taking out his baton to punch him in the stomach, he falls to the ground, everyone screaming trying to break fight, the other officers had there guns out pointing at your peoples escalating the situation the disgusting pig grabs to pull frankie in a chokehold restricting his breathing “Stop you’re hurting him fucking stop!” you screamed out, his color almost leaving his skin almost turning him blue.

Another cop car shows up to see Andre in his uniform “Hey hey hey what are you doing. Put the thing away, stop it man.” Andre telling partners to stand down, “Fuckin Pigs!” Kev yells, the cop pulls away from him, he’s hyperventilating, you kneel down to Frankie, rubbing his back. Cissy and I keep telling him to keep breathing, air not filling in his lungs fast enough, Andre trying to comfort him, Jerome runs up on Andre “Back away from my nephew you boy.” Louie steps in front of Jerome and pushes him back “You’re okay Frankie, you’re okay.” Andre tells his partners to leave the property and he gets into his car and drives off. Frankie slowly gets up from the ground with his hand on his stomach, Cissy and Jerome help him get him inside of the house, your momma comes up next to you “We’re leaving right now.” you nod your head, you both walk back to the table to grab your containers and start walking back to your house “I saw you lexi.” you suck your teeth “What did you want me to do momma? he was getting choke out.” “You shouldn't have been around that. You should’ve been inside of the house, it's not your business to be around that.” you shake your head “Whatever momma.”

You walked into your room, not even saying goodnight to your momma, you lay on top of your bed, obviously you’re not going to bed especially what just happen, your mind is racing seeing that cop choking Frankie out and not stopping until Andre came to stop it, you wait for about an hour to your momma go to bed, you step out of your room, looking to see your momma’s door closed, slowly creeping out of the house, you slowly close the front door and start walking back to Jerome’s house.

Everybody is still partying, you know the police can never stop a black folks party, still in good vibes, the music is still blasting around the block, you see Frankie holding a red cup with ice talking to Cissy “Hey y’all, how are you feel Frankie?” he smiles at you “I’m feeling better, but I sound worse though.” his voice groggy, deeping his voice. Cissy stands up and gives you a hug “I’m gonna check on Jerome, see how he’s feeling?” she walks away opening her spot to him, you sit next to Frankie “How are you really feeling Frankie?” looking into his chocolate eyes, he closed his eyes and looks back at you “The fact I felt powerless in that moment, that I couldn’t do anything cause he’s a cop I never want that feeling. Ever.” you nod your head “These pigs think they can do whatever they want because they have a gun and badge. But fuck them.” Looking at Frankie, seeing his signature red and white baseball t-shirt and dark jeans and some adidas, you kiss him feeling his lips touching against you, he grunts against you “I need you right now.” he grabs your hand to the guest room, gracefully slipping through the crowd.

Frankie walks in first into the room opening it for you, passing him and close and locks the door, you sit on the bed putting your arms out so he can climb on top of you, slipping into your legs he pecks your lips and slowly grinding into your covered pussy, just feeling your body getting hot, wrapping your arms his neck, you put your thick thighs around him pulling him closer, not wanting stop, you pull off his his shirt “Ugh fuck baby.” hearing his voice now still little horse making him sound even more sexy, you push him up to take off your shirt, his hands go to your breast almost spilling through his hands, he bends down to take of your nipple into his mouth and massaging the other one “O my god baby you’re making me feel so good.” A couple knocks, hits the door and scares you and Frankie “Aye who’s in there?” Hearing Jerome voice coming through the door “It’s Franklin.” “Aight nephew, is Lexi in there with you?” his nosy ass “Hey Jerome and yeah it’s me.” you can hear Jerome laughing “Aight y’all have a good night.” he returns back to you looking into your eyes “What?’’ his voice again sounding like its lower by three octaves, your raise your hand touching his throat, seeing a little bruising around it, you kiss his neck, tasting the sweat of his neck, he groans “ughh shit, fuck baby.” you couldn’t stop, you moved down to the other side finding his sweet spot, he grinds into you, feeling he’s getting hard “Take this shit off.” He tugged at your clothes, you both stood up to take off your clothes and got back on to the bed.

You push him on the bed with a loud thud, you climbed on top of him kissing up his body to his lips, you rest your hips on his mound, you kiss down his body to chest, stomach, and finally to his dick, you lick your lips to start to kiss it, you open your mouth to take him into your mouth, breathing through your nose and going deeper, he’s moaning, even through his voice is a little rough, deliciously so, hearing it now he’s moaning for you, his voice cracks “Ohh fuck baby, o-oohh yes yes yes, fuck you suckin’ me so fuckin’ good.” you moved your hand down to your pussy, slowly rubbing it, feeling your yourself getting wet, you kept breathing you nose “Baby get up I don’t want to nut fuck.” but you didn’t stop, he spreads his thighs, you take a big breath, to have Frankie in your throat, he moans louder, relaxing under your touch, you moved your fingers faster on your pussy “Fuck baby I’m gonna nut, are you gonna nut too baby?” your nod your head “Come on baby nut for me, that’s right. ohh shit uu-ghh.” feeling the heat spread from your pussy to your stomach, you start to shake, having this feeling wash over you. Frankie release himself to you, tasting natural odor in your mouth, you swallow it, you slowly get up to lay on the bed “Aye turn the fuck around, I still need to give yours now.” you lay on your back on the bed, he pulls you closer to him, you spread your legs and frankie holds them in place “fuck baby why do you smell better after you cum, I bet you even tatse better.” he kissing down to your pussy, he dives in his tongue swirling around your clit, like he’s kissing your other lips, your nipples harder “fu-uck baby fuck don’t stop ughh shit.” you can feel his moans through mouth, you grip his fro with your hand “Come on baby, nut on my face I need it. Fuckin’ give it to me.” he goes back to kissing your pussy, like he was making out with you, shaking your legs “Fuckkk”.

Letting your climax wash over you, having your eyes in the back of your head, he still didn’t stop eating you like you’re his last meal. Luckily the music is drowning your moans out so no one could hear y’all. Frankie finally gets up to come closer to you, giving you a kiss, tasting yourself on his lips, slipping his tongue in you “Hey I just want to check with you if you still want to do this, if not that’s fine.” looking in your eyes, you nod your head “I want to do this with you. I want you to be my first.” Frankie smiles “Okay you might fell some pressure okay, just let me know when it becomes too much for you.” you kiss him, pulling him down on top of you “I will Frankie.”Frankie puts his hands next to your face. He pushes in, you hiss feeling him entering in you “It’s okay baby, just breath I know I know.” pain is all you feel, He inches in closer “Ahh, okay keep going baby.” and finally he bottoms out, arching your back finally feeling him in all of his glory “Baby I’m need you to relax, okay your really tight.” you take a breath to relax your legs, he grons “Okay baby you can move now.” moving in and out of your pussy, now feeling the pleasure coming to you “Ughh fuck yeah baby. Fuck baby shit.” Frankie moans in your mouth “I know baby, fuck you feel so good right now.” he grabs your hands above your head, trapping you in hold, feeling his dick moving and hitting your spot “Ughh fuck baby, yeah you like that huh baby.” you nod your head, not even listening to what he said “Yes baby I do, your fucking my pussy so good.” He leans down to give you a sloppy kiss, you feel yourself about to cum “Fuck frankie I’m about to come ughh.” “I know baby l know, give me your nut baby, yeah get my dick wet for me.” and you did. Cumming on his dick was the best feeling in the world, almost becoming dickmitze. He still moving in out out of you “I know you could give me one more baby, just one more.” Frankie lifts off of you to flip you over on your stomach and pulls your hips up. He enters once more.

Being in this new postion and having him fucking you like this, resting your head on the pillow, feeling the blows coming from and not stopping, you feeel your pussy throbbing with with force “FUCK! you feel sooo goood baby, yeah baby don’t stop.” he moans “I’m not stopping baby, I’m never stopping.” your pussy is getting wetter by the second, he lifts you up to his chest, exploring a new postion for you, he looking down at your ass, seeing your ass moving the movements of frankie “Fuckkkk baby are you about to nut? I can feel it, mhmm it’s okay baby you can nut on this dick.” a wet splash coming out of you, making you even wetter than before “ughhh fuck frankie fuckfuckfuck ughh.” with two more pushes frankie cums as well inside of you, loving the feeling of him filling you up, he slowly lays you down back on the bed, and pulls out of you and lays next to you. He pulls you up to his chest, hearing his heart going a thousand miles per hour, “That was amazing baby, thank you being my first.” he kiss your head and pulls your chin to look at him “Your welcome baby, and I’m also gonna be your last.” you smile at him and kissing him “mhmm baby I should probably go use the bathroom.” you rise up the put back on your clothes and he does as well “Aye come up on the roof that’s where Lee and Kev gonna be at, I’m gonna bring Kev on the game with me.”

“Okay baby I’ll be there.” you walk out of the room and thankfully the music is still going, but everyone is outside, you walk in the bathroom to do your buisness, looking at yourself in the mirror ‘Bitch you is not a virgin no more.’ turning on the facuet to wash out your mouth.

You enter in the attic of the house seeing the window and hearing your boys laughing and cracking jokes and Kev even asked what me and Frankie were doing in the guest room “What me and Lexi do is nothin of your business.” and he being stern about, your were glad that Frankie didn’t diverge in what happen between you too, you walk on the roof next to Frankie “Sup y’all.” “Hey lexi.” coming from all of them, he grabs your hand interlocking with you “Aye Kev I want you to join in with us, because i want you to make money too. And I was gonna page Avi to get some more bricks from him.” Kev screams in joy “Thanks Franklin, hey I got a cousin in Oakland who could help us to kickstart of businesses.” he nods his head and turns to you “Well I’m guessing you comin’ too right?” you smile back at him “Of course baby, I’ll be there, I’ll talk to my momma about it.” he kisses you, groans coming from your friends and making kissy noises “Man this is amazing me and boys and girl making some money. AHHH!! love you mane, love mane.” Kev spoke. What a perfect moment with your man and friends felling like you all are on the top of the world, nothing could break up of what y’all have, you hope you all just make it out on top with millions attached to y’all’s name.

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OHHHH SHIT BITCH thank you thank you thank you for reading this took me a while to finish this but i’m glad to knock another one down, and let’s talk about Frankie’s voice(even though getting choke-out) the raspiness of voice, you can’t not tell me he would not sound even more sexy than before, just thinking about it even makes me horny 🫠, and that SEX SCENE (AGGHHHH!!) gurlll I can’t Frankie seems like the kinda of man to pull you up during doggy (mhmmm) and can’t y’all see that fine ass nigga to say nut instead of cum, yes bitch yasssss, and the thing that took me the longest to write was the police scene and talking about that was tough cause being that’s all you see in real life, and hopefully i’ll become better when it comes to those scene, and finally in Ch. 6 the gang is going in a roadtrip to Oakland seeing if kev’s cousin could help with expanding the business further and meeting a white girl smoking some drug that has her rocked up, and thank you once again for reading this sis. See you on Chapter 6

Love nazzy💕

BLACK WOMEN

TOMORROW IS HALLOWEEN!!!

strawberry wine - joel miller x ofc!liv stone/fem!reader

after - part twenty-five

you just have to keep going.

a/n: the big one. the biggest yet? I think? either way. this is pretty much the entirety of episode three in one part. I considered doing the rest of the story this way (one part per episode) but there's going to be a lot more added to the plot, so much more to come!

word count: 14.2k

warnings: if you've been reading this far, you know the drill, but explicit smut ahead!

✨@friskito-library for updates on new parts/works✨

You head west. Toward Lincoln. You walk for miles; maybe ten, if Joel had to guess. And the entire way, you don’t say a goddamn word. Not a single thing.

Ellie is uncharacteristically quiet the whole way, not a question or comment as you walk past the edge of the city, past what remains of the chain link fence you once told Joel was FEDRA’s original plan before the QZ was built. Ellie has your bat in her hands still, and she carries it silently, tapping her fingers against the metal softly, not hard enough to make any noise. You have Tess’s gun in hand, your grip on it so tight Joel is sure your knuckles are aching.

You walk through the forest until you’re all so tired you think you might drop. The night is cool, no rain to bother you, and you find a small clearing near the river to set up camp. Not that there’s much to set up. Ellie nearly collapses into the dirt, sprawling at the base of a tree, using her bag as a pillow. You go to shrug out of your jacket, stepping over and draping it over the kid. Joel follows suit, shrugging out of his own and putting it around your shoulders.

“Can’t risk a fire,” Joel murmurs to you, the two of you standing in the clearing. You ditched your bags once you found the spot, leaned them against a tree along with the bat, which Ellie had handed back to you, and the rifle. “Not this close to Boston.”

You just nodded in agreement, wrapping your arms around yourself. Joel rubs his hand up and down your back, and you turn to look at Ellie, completely passed out beneath Joel’s jacket. “What are we gonna do, Joel?” you whisper, your voice hoarse, and he can hear the panic in you. “What the fuck are we gonna do?”

“Exactly what we said we would. We go to Lincoln first. It’s a good hike, but we’ve done it before, we can do it again. We resupply, figure things out with Bill and Frank, and then…well, Tommy used to be a Firefly, maybe he can point us in the right direction.”

“We need to get to Lincoln as soon as we can,” you say, a slight waver in your voice, but you swallow it back. “We need to rest, to reset.” 

To mourn. 

It goes without saying, and Joel nods. He moves his hand to your shoulder, makes to pull you into his arms, but you move out of his grip instead of into it, turning to where your weapons are leaned against the tree. You pick up the rifle, and then head toward the edge of the trees surrounding you, toward where the river runs, the sound audible from where you’re standing.

“I’ll take the first watch,” you murmur over your shoulder, swinging the rifle up. “Get some rest.”

You never wake him. Sleep finds Joel easily, his body exhausted from the travel, but it’s the kind of sleep where he feels like he’s merely shut his eyes and opened them again, even though hours have passed. He closes his eyes on an inky black sky, and wakes to one filled with clouds, an almost lavender colour poking between the streaks of white.

The rifle is still missing from its previous spot beside your bat, and Joel knows gunfire would have woken him. But where are you? He gets to his feet slowly, every bone in his body aching with protest, leaning his good hand against a tree for a moment as he stretches out his back.

He walks over to where Ellie’s still passed out, and nudges her with his boot, just a light tap. She whines, hiding her face under his coat, and he taps her again. “Wake up, kid,” he grunts, rubbing his hand over his eyes. “Now.”

Following the sound of the river, Joel steps through the trees, bowing his head to watch his step until the water comes into view. Sure enough, there you are, sat right at the shoreline, your arms wrapped around your knees, which are pulled up to your chest. The rifle sits in the dirt beside you, and there’s a stack of rocks piled neatly, almost impossibly high.

“You didn’t wake me,” he calls, his voice hoarse with the morning. You jump, turn to look at him over your shoulder, and Joel’s heart squeezes at the tears on your face. “Liv, baby—”

“I didn’t see the point,” you reply, sniffling, wiping your cheeks with your sleeve. “I knew I wouldn’t sleep, figured one of us should get some good shuteye.”

Joel grimaces, squatting down beside you, looking out at the river. “Y’know, I always heard sleeping on the forest floor was good for your back. Load of shit.”

“Ellie awake?”

“I nudged her.”

You just nod.

“Liv,” he starts, and reaches his hand out.

“Don’t, Joel,” you grit out, nearly flinching away from him. “Just…if you touch me right now, I’ll start crying, and if I start crying now, I’m not gonna fucking stop.”

“Liv—”

“Don’t,” you repeat, your eyes brimming with tears as you stare back at him. “Please? Just…let’s just get to Lincoln, and figure out what we’re doing next.” You scramble to your feet, grabbing the rifle up off the ground. Joel follows suit, straightening his legs, and for a moment, he almost says fuck it and grabs you. But he doesn’t. He watches your eyes move up his body, landing on his face, and one lone tear slips down your cheek before you swipe at it. You hand him the rifle as you brush past, heading back up the bank to your camping spot.

He feels the loss differently than you do. He knows that. What he and Tess’s relationship had evolved into was vastly different than the closeness that had formed between you, but it didn’t mean he cared any less. She was Tess, steadfast and reliable, determined and headstrong. Just like you. How many times had he thought about that, before he made it back to Boston? How well he thought you and Tess would get along, the way the ferocity in each of you reminded him of the other.

And now, she’s gone. Just like that.

Joel waits a moment, looks out across the river, at the slowly rising sun, at the tower of rocks you’ve left on the shoreline. He bends down again, leaning some of his weight on the rifle, his knees creaking as he goes. He reaches into the water, hissing as the cold covers his hand. He closes his fingers around a smooth, flat stone and pulls it from the riverbed. It’s nearly a perfect circle, dark stone with a vein of white running through it. 

Carefully, ignoring the way his hand trembles as he sets it down, he lays the stone atop your tower. He pauses, makes sure it stays upright, and then rises to his feet again, slinging the rifle over his shoulder and walking back to the clearing.

You’re still on your way back, and his boots find the footprints you’ve left in the mud, matching your steps as you walk ahead of him. You’re both silent as you walk back up the slight hill to the camp, finding Ellie fully awake, sitting against one of the tree trunks. Her bag sits beside her, and your jacket is now draped across her knees.

Wordlessly, you walk across to where your bags are set at the base of another tree. You pull Joel’s jacket off and hand it to him before stooping to your bag, yanking open the zipper, digging through the contents. “You want your jacket back?” Ellie calls to you, but you don’t answer, pulling out the little parcel of dried beef from your bag. You unfold the paper, take a small piece before handing it to Joel. He snaps off a bit, refolds the paper, and then tosses it to Ellie. It lands at her feet, and she shoots him a glare as she reaches for it, the paper rustling. “I’ve never been in the woods,” she continues as you re-zip the bag. “More bugs than I thought.”

You don’t say a word, but Joel’s close enough to hear your slow exhale.

“Look, I’ve been thinking about—” the kid starts.

“Don’t, kid,” Joel calls, lifting a hand.

“Listen to me for a second,” she shoots back, and Joel sees the way your back straightens, your shoulders pushed back. Defensive. “I was gonna say that I’ve been thinking about what happened. Nobody made any of you take me. Nobody made you go along with this plan. You needed a truck battery, or whatever, and you made a choice.” Her eyes flick from Joel’s to yours. “So don’t blame me for something that isn’t my fault.”

For a moment, the only noise around you is the river, bubbling in the distance. You brace your hands on your knees, slowly straightening, and Joel puts his hand on your back as you do, testing, seeing what your reaction might be. You surprise him by leaning into the touch, though he doesn’t miss the silvery line of tears along your lashes.

“She’s got a point,” you say, your voice still a bit hoarse as you turn to look at him. “We made a choice.”

It’s a loaded statement if Joel’s ever heard one. You made a choice. You both made a choice, all those years ago. Keep your secret safe, don’t let anyone — FEDRA, Fireflies, nobody — get their hands on you. Don’t let anyone take you from him. It’s the most selfish choice Joel’s ever made. He knows that. You both do.

But if you hadn’t, maybe Tess would still be alive.

Stubborn as he is, even he knows that’s not Ellie’s fault.

You made a choice, all of you.

“I’m sorry, kid,” you call, turning towards her. “It’s not your fault. It’s just…not what any of us bargained for.”

Joel snorts. “Ain’t that the truth.”

You both pick up your bags, you slide the bat between the straps, and Ellie gets to her feet, walking over to you with your coat outstretched towards you. You nod as you take it, pulling it on. “How much longer?” Ellie asks.

“Five-hour hike,” Joel answers when you glance at him.

“We can manage that.”

+

The weather holds up for your hike toward Lincoln. Joel leads, Ellie trails behind him, and you bring up the rear. You don’t miss the way Joel glances over his shoulder at you every once in a while, his gaze hard, and you just give him a slight nod each time.

Your head is a mess.

Tess knew. She knew almost the entire time, since Tommy fucked off to be a Firefly. That whole time, and she never said a goddamned thing.

Her final words echo through your mind, clear as a fucking bell.

It didn’t matter, Liv; it doesn’t matter. I knew Joel would never let them take you, no matter what it would fix, not if it wasn’t guaranteed, if it meant taking you from him. But now…this could be real. She’s real, Liv. The kid. She can fix it. Make up for all the bad shit we did.

These Fireflies out west, the ones looking for the cure, if they had more of you, would they have a better chance? Would the odds be better if they had two instead of one?

You shake the thought from your head as Joel looks back again, meeting your gaze. There’s a cut on his cheek, from your tussle in the museum yesterday, and you wish you had something to clean it with. You need to look at his hand again, too.

Take care of him, Liv.

You chew the inside of your cheek. You can let Ellie take your place, let her save the world, let her be the hero.

You can’t leave Joel.

The sun hides behind the clouds for the first leg of your journey, and once you’re out of the forest and on the open road, your trio falls into step with each other, Ellie in the middle of the two of you.

And fuck, does this kid ask a lot of questions.

“You’ve gone this way a lot?” she asks, the first thing anyone has said since you left the clearing. “No Infected?”

“We used it pretty regularly before,” Joel answers, but he doesn’t look at her as he says it, his head on a swivel, good hand tight around the rifle. “But recently, not so much.”

“What are you looking out for?”

“People.”

“Oh.”

She looks at you. “Are Bill and Frank nice?”

Before you can, Joel answers again. “Frank is.”

“Joel,” you chastise, shooting him a look. “They’re both nice. Frank is great, Bill is just more…practical.”

“Practical?” Ellie repeats, lifting a brow.

“Crazy, she means,” Joel quips, and you reach around Ellie, punching him in the arm. “Hey!”

The next question: “So are you two, like, married or something?” 

“We are,” you nod.

“For how long?”

You pause, realizing you’re not totally sure, and Joel answers yet again. “Thirteen years.”

Jesus, has it been that long?

Ellie looks at him, then back at you. “So you met after the outbreak?”

That sends something like a shock down your spine, and you and Joel look at each other over Ellie’s head. “No,” you answer, and for a moment, it’s 2001, you’re standing in the middle of the hardware store, and Joel Miller is standing in front of you for the very first time, asking for a quarter-inch drill bit in that lovely drawl of his. It’s a good memory, a happy one, one that time cannot ruin. Despite it all, the corner of your mouth lifts. “No, we knew each other before.”

Her head snaps back to Joel. “You said you were from Austin.”

“I am,” he tells her, but his eyes are still on yours. “That’s where we met.”

“Wait, so how long have you known each other for?”

“That’s a long story, kid,” you say, shoving your hand through your hair.

“Yeah, and this is a long fuckin’ hike.”

“Some other time.”

“Please?”

“Ellie.”

“Please?”

“Enough,” Joel barks, but it’s halfhearted.

Ellie sulks for all of thirty seconds before something else piques her interest. “How’d you get that scar on your head?” she asks Joel, tilting her head to the side to get a better look at it.

It’s like fucking whiplash, going from a happy memory to a god-awful one. Your side prickles with it.

Joel sighs, but it just spurs Ellie’s questioning. “What? Is it something lame? Like you fell down the stairs or something?”

“I didn’t fall down any stairs.”

“Okay, so what then?”

You’re staring at your boots, watching each step you take, trying to swallow down the guilt that has crept up your throat. You can feel Joel look at you before he speaks. “Someone shot at me and missed.”

“See, that’s cool,” Ellie replies, waving her hand in the air. For a moment, you think you may vomit. “You shoot back?”

“Yeah.”

“You get him?”

You swallow hard, kicking a rock out of your path. “No,” Joel says after a beat, “I missed, too. It happens more often than you think. Clipped him in the ribs, I think.”

“Shoulder,” you correct, and suddenly Ellie’s attention is on you.

“You were there?” she asks, incredulous, and you just nod. “Why’d they both miss? They suck at shooting, or just like, in general?”

Joel shakes his head. “In general.”

Ellie goes quiet for a long moment, looking at Joel and then back at you, back and forth again. “Y’know, I still have that spare hand.”

You’re about to say it’s not a bad idea, Tess’s pistol in the pocket of your coat, but Joel beats you to the punch. “No.”

“Okay,” she nearly whines. “Jeez.”

After about an hour more of walking, Ellie only pouting slightly, and a familiar gas station comes into view. The place is untouched, the only thing that’s changed over the years is the slow creep of nature taking back the space, the trees encroaching closer in on either side.

“Cumberland Farms?” Ellie reads out, her head cocked to the side as Joel heads for the door. “What are we doing here?”

“Got some stuff stashed inside,” Joel answers, rifle swinging from his shoulder.

“Stashed?” Ellie repeats. “Why do you have stuff stashed here?”

“Just in case,” you tell her, stepping over a crack in the pavement as Joel pushes the door open. “Like Joel said, we used to take this path a lot.”

“To get to Bill and Frank’s?” she asks.

“You ask a lot of goddamned questions,” Joel grumbles, and Ellie just grins.

“Yes, I do.”

As you step inside, Joel glances your way. “Shoulda grabbed her bag,” he says, his brow knitting together, and you don’t need him to specify. “We split the food between you and her, didn’t we?”

You just nod, opening your mouth as Ellie shouts, “No way!” She’s grinning the widest you’ve yet to see, beelining across the gas station to a large arcade game tucked in the corner. The glass is shattered in one corner, the whole thing covered in a thick layer of dust. She’s immediately hitting the buttons, rattling the joysticks. “You ever play this one?”

You and Joel just look at each other.

“I had a friend who knew everything about this game,” Ellie continues, and you find yourself staring at her back while Joel kicks a piece of wood out of the way, searching for the stash box. “There’s this one character named Mileena who takes off her mask and she has monster teeth and then she swallows you whole and barfs out your bones! Oh, man.”

Behind you, Joel pushes a long-empty shelf across the floor, the metal squeaking. Ellie turns to look at you both, and you instantly look away, feeling caught.

Joel kicks at an empty can on the ground and Ellie rolls her eyes. “You forgot where you put your stuff.”

“No,” he quips, lifting his head. “I’m just…zeroing in on it. It’s been a couple years since we came in here.”

“Okay, well, I’m gonna take a look around, see if there’s anything good,” she replies, turning on her heel and heading towards the back of the gas station.

“Trust me,” you call out, “it’s all been picked over already. We cleared this place out back in the day.”

“Maybe, maybe not,” she replies, waving her hand in the air. Joel returns to his search, and Ellie turns back to you. “Is there anything bad in here?”

“Just you,” Joel calls back, and you smack his shoulder.

“Ah, getting funnier,” Ellie deadpans, and disappears through the doorway. A few moments pass, and you hear the scrape of metal.

“You okay in there?” Joel calls out, his brow crinkling.

“Yeah!” Ellie calls back, and he just shakes his head, pushing at the empty freezer in front of him.

“She’s a weird fuckin’ kid,” he grits, grunting as he shoves at the appliance. “So many goddamn questions.”

“If I was growing up in a time like this, I’d have a lot of goddamn questions too,” you reply, putting your hands on your hips, and Joel straightens with a sigh. “Where the fuck did we put that box?”

“I don’t know,” he replies, rubbing his fingers across his forehead. His hand drops, but a beat after it hits his thigh, he lifts it again, reaching for you. “Liv—”

You let him grab your hand, enough that his fingers thread through yours, knuckles locked together, but you shake your head. “Don’t, Joel. Please.”

“I just wanna—” I just wanna make sure you’re okay.

You’re not. It’s that fucking simple. But you can’t break down in the middle of the fucking gas station.

“I know you do,” you reply, squeezing his hand lightly. “Just…not here. Please.”

“Okay,” he grits out, and with a heavy breath, he lets go of his hand and reaches for his knife, kneeling down. “Let’s just find the box, then.”

You watch for a moment as he sweeps trash out of the way, a nearly white-knuckle grip on his knife. You want nothing more than to pull him up by the shoulder of his coat, haul him against you, bury your face in his chest. You want that warm, steady comfort he’s trying so hard to give to you, the thump of his heart against your ear and his arms tight around you.

It’s okay, baby. It’s gonna be okay.

But is it?

You crouch down to help with the search, rapping your knuckles against the cracked tiles, sweeping the debris out of the way first so you don’t cut yourself. You can feel Joel watching for a moment, but when you go to glance back at him, his eyes dart away.

Finally, you find a tile that sounds different than the others. “Joel,” you call holding your hand out for the knife, closing your fingers around the hilt. The blade hits the metal box with a satisfying clink when you jam it through the tile, and you use the blade to pry it up. “Jackpot.”

+

There’s a little bag filled with medical supplies in the box, and you reach for that first. Then you hand Joel the box of ammunition. He starts picking through it, fishing out the bullets that’ll fit his pistol, when he realizes there hasn’t been a sound from the direction Ellie disappeared in.

He hands you back the box, and curls his hand around the rifle, taking a step towards the door she went through. “Ellie?” he calls, lifting his hand in your direction, making you pause your movements. He can’t ignore the way his stomach drops. You call his name slightly, and he walks towards the door, calling louder now. “Ellie!”

“Picked over my ass,” she declares, appearing from the darkened doorway. She’s got a box of tampons in her hand, a smug smile on her face, and when Joel turns back, he sees you pop up from the floor, your jaw dropping when you see what she’s found. 

“No fucking way.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll share,” Ellie says, unzipping her bag and stuffing the box inside. “Least I can do.”

Joel returns to where you’re standing over the box. Sufficiently resupplied, Joel closes the box, fitting it back into the space it had been hidden, and, his dig through the box of ammunition proving fruitless for the larger gun, sliding the rifle in beside it. He can feel the kid watching him, and when he glances up, there’s something close to concern in her eyes.

“What are you doing?”

“There’s not much ammo out there for this thing,” he tells her, reaching for the tile you’d yanked up and fitting it back into place. “Makes it mostly useless.”

“Well, if you’re just gonna leave it there,” Ellie says, waving her hand at where the gun is now hidden.

Joel shoots to his feet, hearing you huff out your breath as he tells her firmly again, “No.”

He grabs his bag from where it’s laying on the ground, slings it over his shoulder. “C’mon,” you say to Ellie, reaching for your own bag. “Still a ways to go.”

It’s warmer, when you step back out of the gas station, leaving Cumberland Farms behind as you head back towards the road. Warm enough that Joel shrugs out of his jacket, stuffing it through the strap of his bag. It’s not long before you and Ellie follow suit, Ellie tying hers around her waist. After a bit of walking, Joel feels you move up toward his right, sensing your presence more than hearing your steps.

You put your hand in his, your fingers tightly wound together. He chances a glance in your direction, just a quick one, seeing the firm set to your jaw, your eyes trained on the path before you. He’s surprised enough at your touch. You’d allowed him the same back at the gas station, but only long enough to tell him not to push it further, not to give you the comfort that was trying to claw its way out of him like some kind of rabid animal.

He just wanted to make you feel okay. He knows good is a stretch, knows it’s a hard sell when he doesn’t have his bare body pressed to yours, every ache and pain soothed away by the way you writhe beneath him, feeling the same. 

Joel catches himself, reaching down with his free hand to adjust the waist of his jeans. Not the fuckin’ time. Or place. He’s starting to wish he’d made more of it, when he’d woke you early a few days ago, before the sun was up, before either of you had to even think about getting out of bed. He’d moved over you slowly, woke you with soft kisses along your jaw, gentle until your eyes fluttered and you made a little noise, roused by his touches. 

He should have kissed you longer, should have let his mouth trail lower than just your chest. He’d lifted the hem of your t-shirt, teeth scraping at the sensitive flesh of your breast, but he should have roved lower. He should have tasted you at the source, lapped at you until your legs were shaking around his ears, until he could slide into you with little resistance, the only place that’s truly felt like home to him.

Coughing, tugging at his jeans again, he squeezes your fingers, lifts your joined hands until he can press his lips to your knuckles. Behind you, Ellie makes a gagging noise. “You guys are kinda gross,” she says, and when you both turn your heads back to look at her, she’s got a funny grin on her lips. “But like, in a cute way.”

“Gee, thanks,” Joel deadpans, and beside him, you actually giggle.

“So will you tell me now how you guys—” Ellie starts to ask, but cuts herself off, coming to a stop as you reach a break in the trees lining the road. “Holy shit.”

Off in the distance, sprawled atop a large hill, is a plane. Or, what remains of one. The pieces are long decayed, the rusted-out metal visible even from where you’re standing. 

Ellie whistles out her awe. “You fly in one of those?”

“A few times, sure,” Joel answers. your fingers flexing in his grip.

“So lucky.”

“Didn’t feel like it at the time,” he tells her. “Get shoved into a middle seat, pay twelve bucks for a sandwich.”

“Dude, you got to go up in the sky,” the kid emphasizes, and you stifle your laugh.

He’s begrudgingly grateful, for this weird kid, that she distracts you enough from what’s happened to make you laugh. 

“So did they,” you mumble, looking away from the scene before you.

“Oof,” Ellie fake-winces, squinting at you. “Grim.”

The three of you continue down the path for a little while longer, and just when he’s starting to think he’ll have peace and quiet the rest of the way to Lincoln, the kid pipes up with more questions. She seems to notice his reluctance to answer, however, because she moves around to your side, interrogating you instead of Joel.

“So, everything came crashing down in one day?”

“Basically.”

“But how? No one was infected with cordyceps, everybody’s fine, eating in restaurants and flying in planes. And then all at once, it was over? How did it even start? If you have to get bit to be infected, then who bit the first person? Was it a monkey? I bet it was a monkey.”

You chuckle again, shaking your head. “They don’t teach you this in FEDRA school?”

She blows a raspberry. “Yeah, they don’t teach us how their shitty government failed to prevent a pandemic.”

You’re quiet for a moment before you start giving her the spiel. “No one really knows where it started, or really how, but the best guess is that cordyceps mutated. It got into the food supply, some kind of basic ingredient like flour, something that was in basically everything. And certain brands of food were sold all across the country, all over the world even. Bread, cereal, pancake mix, that sort of thing.”

At the words pancake mix, Joel grips your hand tighter. You don’t flinch, squeezing back.

“They figure, if you eat enough of it, then it’ll get you infected. So all this tainted food hits the store shelves around the same time Thursday, people bought it, ate it that night, or the next morning, and the day went on. People started getting sick, started turning, and by the evening, it was worse. They started biting, started attacking people.”

“Were you attacked?”

You go quiet, but from the corner of his eye, Joel sees you nod. “My boyfriend at the time, Dean. I was out celebrating my birthday, and I came home and found him, just standing there. Then he started twitching, then he lunged at me. Gave me this.” Joel turns just in time to see you pulling back the strap of your bag and the collar of your flannel, letting Ellie see the scars on your shoulder, the jagged lines Dean had left in your skin.

“Shit,” the kid curses. “That’s intense. You killed him?”

Another nod. “With my bat.”

Ellie’s jaw drops. “That’s…pretty badass, actually.”

You bark a laugh. “Thanks, kid.”

“Wait,” she says, lifting a hand. “It was your birthday?”

“Yep,” you answer, nodding again. “Joel’s too.”

“No shit.”

“Shit. Friday, September 26th, 2003. My twenty-fifth birthday. By Monday, everything was gone, and they started dropping bombs not long after that.”

Ellie finally settles into silence for a moment before she says, “It makes more sense than monkeys. Thanks, Liv.”

“You’re welcome, kid.”

He’s been distracted as you’ve walked, listening to the sound of your voice, trying to catch any dip or crack that might give him space to swoop in, take over, make you feel safe again. Even if he doesn’t really want to answer the kid’s incessant questions, he can do it for you, if he has to. But you haven’t wavered, and Joel feels that begrudging gratitude take up a more permanent residence in his chest. At least, while the kid is still around. 

And then he realizes where you are. 

“Wait,” he calls out, and both of you stop in your tracks, you holding your arm out to stop Ellie from taking another step. “We’ll cut across the woods here.”

“Isn’t the road easier?” Ellie asks, glancing between the both of you. Joel sees the realization on your face, and you sigh.

“Yeah, it is, it’s just…” You trail off, clearly not quite sure what to tell the kid.

Joel finds the words before you do. “There’s stuff up there you shouldn’t see.”

She grins. “Well, now I have to see it.” And with that, she ducks under your raised arm, continuing on down the path.

“Yeah, but I don’t want you to,” Joel grits out, and pulls you to step after him, following her. “I’m serious, Ellie.”

She tilts her head back, calling back to the both of you. “Can it hurt me?”

“No,” Joel calls back, hearing you sigh after. 

“Not in the way you’re thinking of,” you say, rubbing at your brow. “Ellie, wait, just—”

“You guys worry too much,” she calls, picking up her pace a bit. “Besides, if you really wanted to stop me, you should have said axe murderer.”

You heave a sigh as she continues on, almost at the spot you didn’t want her to be. Joel’s spine tingles as you come up to the bend in the road. He still remembers the first time you found this spot, the first time you had gone to Bill and Frank’s.

“Uh, whatever it is,” Ellie yells back to you, “I think it’s gone.” But then her steps slow, her attention dragged off the side of the road, and Joel’s fingers squeeze around yours.

As you come up behind her, stopping when she turns to look at you, Joel answers the question before she even asks. You were the one to tell him the story, and after just rehashing your own experience on the day of the outbreak — and saving him from telling his own, he realizes — he can tell the kid this.

“About a week after Outbreak Day, soldiers…” 

He trails off for a moment. It’s hard not to imagine Cowan’s face as his eyes are pulled towards the ground. You had been adamant that Nick hadn’t been a part of it, but Joel had never felt like the soldier was telling you the entire truth. That, and a bullet to the head, and Joel is more than a little biased, but…

He sighs, continuing. “They went through the countryside and evacuated the small towns. Told you you were goin’ to a QZ, and you were, if there was room. If there wasn’t…”

The words trail off again, and his eyes can’t pull away from the bones in the dirt, the few scraps of clothing still tethered in the earth.

“These people weren’t sick?” Ellie asks, her voice snapping on the words.

“Most likely no,” you answer, and Joel feels your body turn against his, both of your hands now wrapped around his. 

“Then why kill them? Why not just leave ‘em be?”

“Better dead than infected,” you reply. “At least, that’s the way FEDRA saw it.” You turn your face away from the body pit. You reach out and tug on the handle of Ellie’s backpack. “C’mon. We should get going. Almost there.”

+

You’re more and more nervous, with every step you take.

Joel notices, gripping your hand a little tighter. You haven’t let go for hours at this point, and your palm is sweaty against his, but he doesn’t seem to care, and neither do you. Depending on what you find beyond the gate, you know he’ll be the only thing to keep you upright.

What if they’re dead? What if they’re dying?

You can’t decide what option is better. Which is worse.

As you round that final corner, the gate Bill built around the small town coming into view, your breath catches in your throat. Nature hasn’t let up anywhere, but when you were still visiting, Bill and Frank had always kept everything trimmed back — Bill more than Frank, but you knew the latter had a penchant for instructing the former what needed attention.

But now, plants crawl across the top of the fence, wrapping through the wires. Long-dead, thanks to the electrical current, but left in place, unbothered by the inhabitants of Lincoln. Your mind spins. It could be that Bill just couldn’t be bothered with it anymore, that his old knees couldn’t take the hike up the ladder. Maybe he’s got a laundry list of things for Joel to do now that you’ve come back.

The hum of the fence is familiar as you approach, the DANGER: HIGH VOLTAGE sign split in half, whether by the decay of time or by something else, you can’t be sure.

Joel squeezes your fingers before letting go, murmuring to you and Ellie to stay in place as he walks up to the gate, reaching out a cautious hand to enter the code. Bill told you long ago what it was — 37265, F-R-A-N-K — in case you ever needed to come in when they couldn’t let you in. The man really had thought of everything.

Your shoulders sag with relief when the fence beeps open, Joel pushing the gate inward to let you all inside. Something inside you snaps, and the moment you’re through the gate, you’re off like a shot, striding with purpose toward the old house. All around you, Lincoln shows signs of abandonment, overgrown grass, leaves littering the sidewalks and streets. One of the fence gates at another house bangs against its latch in the wind.

Behind you, you hear Joel call your name, his boots picking up the pace to match yours, but he doesn’t catch up until you’re standing in front of Bill and Frank’s home. It looks less unkempt than the rest, but the flowers on either side of the low front gate are wilted, the steps nearly brown, petals covering the ground beneath. It’s not promising.

Joel catches your arm. “Let me go in first,” he tells you, his voice low, but you shake your head, shake off his grip, and stride up the walkway to the porch.

The door’s unlocked. It creaks open when you push it inward, the sunlight streaming through the doorway. Joel steps up behind you, Ellie behind him, and you step inside slowly, through the small foyer, stopping at the base of the stairs.

It’s quiet. Too quiet.

Joel turns toward the dining room and you toward the living room. The air feels thick with dust, the complete opposite of the homeliness you’re used to feeling the moment you walk through that door.

“What the fuck?” Ellie murmurs.

It’s only a beat after that Joel calls, “Bill?”

You step into the living room, seeing Frank’s half-done painting on the easel, the beginnings of Bill’s likeness looking back at you. “Frank?”

Nothing but quiet.

Your stomach twists, and you can feel Ellie looking at you. There’s a streak of concern in her eyes, and you lift your hand in her direction. You pull out your gun, and Joel follows suit. “Stay there, okay? If you hear anything, if you see anything, yell for one of us.” She doesn’t say anything at first, and you prompt her. “Clear?”

“Clear,” she repeats, nodding. But then her voice drops. “What if they’re gone?”

Then it’s just one more nail in my coffin, kid. That’s what you want to say. Instead, you say nothing, turning on your heel and striding towards the back of the living room. There’s a thin layer of dust on everything, every surface you look at. Distantly, you hear Ellie tap at the piano keys, and it sends a chill down your spine.

The living room leads you back and around to the kitchen, and you find Joel there, looking through the back door, the small greenhouse and the garden beyond it. It’s not as overgrown as the rest, but most of the garden is dead, threads of ivy climbing up the glass of the greenhouse.

“Anything?” you ask, willing your voice not to crack on the question.

He shakes his head.

Joel follows you out of the kitchen, into the hallway that runs the length of the stairs. There’s a bedroom on the lower level; when the stairs got too much for Frank, they moved downstairs. You lift your hand and knock on the door, the sound echoing on the other side.

Nothing.

Joel’s hand lands on your shoulder and your hand drops to the handle. Unlike the front door, it doesn’t give when you twist the knob. “Liv,” Joel says quietly, his fingers digging into your shoulder slightly. “Baby.”

The front door slams shut all of a sudden, moved by the wind, and you both flinch.

It goes without saying, now.

They’re gone.

You both look back to the front door, Ellie nowhere in sight, and despite the heartbreak that’s sweeping through you like a tidal wave, your instincts kick into gear, and you step out of Joel’s grip, calling the kid’s name as you make your way to the door. “Ellie!”

“In here,” she calls as you step into the foyer, and your head turns in the direction of her voice, finding her sitting in one of the dining room chairs. You hadn’t noticed before, but there are two plates set at the end of the table, the remnants of food on them long moulded over, flies buzzing around. Twin wine glasses stand between the plates, and there’s a small empty baggie on the table.

They’re gone.

Your attention turns back to Ellie, you force it there, seeing the folded piece of paper in her hands. Joel’s steps creak as he comes up beside you, reaching for your hand as Ellie says, “It’s from Bill.” You both put your guns away. There’s no need. Ellie reaches for the torn envelope on the table. “To whomever, but probably Joel. I figured I fell under ‘whomever’. There’s this, too.”

She picks up another envelope, this one unopened, and extends it toward you. Along with it, a car key.

“It only has your name on it. And the key was in this one.”

You both drop your bags, you lean the bat against the wall. Joel takes the key, and you take the second envelope. Your hands are shaking as you do.

“So they’re…?” you trail off, unable to say the words as Ellie looks back at Bill’s note. Dead. She gives a tiny affirmative noise. You inhale sharply, your fingers crinkling the envelope, and Joel reaches for your free hand. She extends the paper towards Joel, but he shakes his head.

“You read it.”

You don’t know if you can handle this. But you have to.

Ellie clears her throat, and starts to read.

+

August 29th, 2023.

If you find this, please do not come into the bedroom. We left a window open so the house wouldn’t smell, but it will probably be a sight. 

I’m guessing you found this, Joel, because anyone else would’ve been electrocuted or blown up by one of my traps. Hehehehehehehehehehehehe.

Take anything you need. The bunker code is the same as the gate code but in reverse.

Anyway, I never liked you. But still, it’s like we’re friends almost. And I respect you. I respect the love you have for that girl. You’ve done right by her, and I know you’ll keep doing it. So I’m gonna tell you something because you’re probably the only person who will understand.

I used to hate the world, and I was happy when everyone died. But I was wrong, because there was one person worth saving. That’s what I did. I saved him. Then I protected him. That’s why men like you and me are here. We have a job to do. And God help any motherfuckers who stand in our way.

I leave you all of my weapons and equipment. The truck is in the garage, and there are guns in the bunker. Use them to keep Olivia and Tess safe, until such time you decide you’ve had enough. At that point, I recommend pairing 40 Vicodins with a nice Brunello.

Good luck, Joel. You’re gonna need it. 

Bill

+

There are tears on your face, sliding down your cheeks unbidden, and Joel feels his own emotions crawl up the back of his throat.

Wordlessly, you tear into the envelope in your hand, pulling out the folded paper within. The note is shorter than Bill’s, the handwriting scratchier, letters falling off the pages in some places. Joel can only watch as your eyes scan over the words, again and again and again. The tears come harder. He wants to reach for you — he needs to reach for you — but before he can get a grip, you slap the paper again his chest and turn on your heel, bolting out the front door.

+

My sweet Liv,

This letter will not be as long as I would like. My hands are not cooperating lately, and I’m sure I’ll have to come back and finish this more than once. It’s okay. I’m old. This is just the way things are.

I hope you find this, someday. I could be writing to no one now. It’s been a while since we heard from you, since we were able to speak, and god, I miss you, Liv. I wish you and Joel and Tess had come when you had the chance. I wish we could have stayed closer, lived together.

But I can’t waste my time on what could have been. I know what you find here will hurt, and for that, I’m sorry. But you have to know, I had a good life. Were there bad days? Of course. The world ended, after all, and yet I still managed to make the most of it.

Take care of Joel. Promise me that you won’t ever stop paying attention, that you’ll keep showing him you love him. He’d move heaven and earth for you, and I know you’d do the same for him.

It might not feel like it now, but things will be okay, Liv. I promise.

All my love,

Frank x

+

“Stay here,” Joel tells Ellie. He doesn’t wait to see if she nods, he’s already out the door, Frank’s note crumpled in his hand. He steps out onto the porch, onto the walkway, and that’s when he sees you, on your knees in the grass, nearly crumpled forward.

He calls your name, but you don’t seem to notice. Even as he runs for you, moving in front of you, dropping to his knees, taking your face in his hands, you barely flinch. Your face is soaked with tears, your eyes squeezed shut, hands clawing at your shirt, pulling at the material. “I-I can’t—” you choke out, and you slump forward when he grabs your wrists, tugging your arms around his shoulders.

Your face pressed into his chest, he feels his shirt cling to his skin in an instant, wet with your tears. He fits his arms under yours, keeping you upright, keeping you against him.

“Liv, baby,” he murmurs, his cheek pressed to your temple. “Baby, you gotta talk to me. Let me help you.”

“Tess knew,” you blubber out, lifting your head so fast you nearly knock Joel in the chin. Your eyes are bloodshot, your lashes clumped together. “Tommy told her before he left with the Fireflies. She knew the whole goddamn time what I am, Joel, and she never said a damn thing. And if I hadn’t been so fucking selfish all these years, she could still be alive!”

Joel shakes his head, lifting his hand until he can cup your cheek in his palm. “No, baby, that’s not what—”

“Yes, it is! If I’d given myself over when it first happened, everything could be different now! This all could be over. It—”

“Or you could be dead!” Joel snaps, and he has both hands on your face now, forcing you to look at him. “They could have killed you for it, or what if it didn’t work? What if nothing changed? We made a choice, Liv. Tess made a choice. Bill and Frank, they—” He cuts himself off, dropping his chin to his chest. The sob you let out rattles his ribs. “We made choices, baby. Choices to stay alive, to stay together.”

Your eyes slip shut again and you nod between his hands, but another sob falls from your lips, your hands moving down to fist in the front of his jacket. “It hurts, Joel. It hurts so fucking bad and I can’t breathe and it just hurts and I—”

“I know, baby,” he murmurs, and pulls you close again, his mouth at the crown of your head. He puts his arms back around you, one around your middle, one across your shoulders. Slowly, he rocks you side to side, humming against your hair. “I know it hurts. It’ll pass, I promise you. You gotta give it time, you hear me? You’ll be okay.” He pauses, inhales sharply when you whimper. “We’ll be okay.”

He’s not sure how much time passes, the two of you kneeling there in the grass, but his joints start to protest after a while. Your sobs subside, your breathing levelling out to an almost normal pace. You don’t let go of him, your hands still locked in his jacket. But your head tilts back against his chest, until his mouth is resting on your forehead.

“What are we gonna do, Joel?”

He rubs his hand across your shoulders. He’ll hold you as long as he has to, to make you feel safe, make you feel okay. It’s just as much for you as it is for him. “We stock up, take what we can. We go find Tommy. That was always the plan, anyway.”

“What about the kid?”

“Tommy might know someone, somewhere we can take her. If not, we find a way to radio Marlene, find a new place to meet, something. We’ll figure it out. Always do.”

Your eyes slip shut again, your arms lowering slightly so you can sling them around his waist. Your face fits into the curve of his neck, and he squeezes you softly. 

“I promise you, baby,” he murmurs to you, lips grazing whatever part of your face he can reach. “We’ll be okay. I’ll keep you safe.”

“And I’ll keep you safe.”

Slowly but surely, you both get to your feet, and while you start in the direction of the front door, the double-door garage to the side of the house catches Joel’s attention. When you lift a brow, he pulls the car key from his pocket, and you follow his lead, walking towards the garage. You pull one of the doors open, and Joel steps inside, looking for a light switch. Fluorescents buzz in their sockets above the covered truck, and you both tug on a corner of the tarp, revealing the blue-and-white painted Chevy.

Joel pops the hood first, to see what he’s working with, and everything in him deflates when he sees what’s missing. He lets the hood slam shut, braces his hands on top of it. “What is it?” you ask, busying yourself with shoving the tarp into a corner of the garage.

“No fuckin’ battery,” he grits out, and your face pinches.

“There’s gotta be something around here,” you say, walking around the truck. “This thing’s in decent shape, and there’s no way Bill would have left it to us without it—”

His attention is caught over your shoulder, an old fridge pushed against the wall, stacked with bottles of different cleaning solutions. He steps around the truck, around you, and yanks the fridge open. Sure enough, everything he needs to make a battery is inside.

Joel can’t stop himself from smiling. Fuckin’ Bill. Really did think of everything.

You step up behind him, peering over his shoulder and into the fridge. “You know what you’re doing there, baby?”

“I do, actually,” he says, starting to pull the ingredients out of the fridge, a jar of sulphur, the plastic pieces of the battery itself. “Had a friend back in Austin that showed me how to do this.”

It doesn’t take him long. You hover at his shoulder the entire time, watching him work, asking the odd question, your brow furrowing as he connects the battery to the charger. You’re committing the steps to memory, Joel realizes as he finishes up, as you recite everything he just did back to him. He can see it for what it is — a distraction — but he nods along anyway, corrects you when you mix up the second and third steps.

You start over, counting the steps off on your fingers as you try again, and Joel turns to you, takes a step towards you, which has you stepping back once, then again, until your back is pressed to the truck. 

“Liv, let me kiss you,” he murmurs, reaching up and bracing his hands on either side of you, fingers curling against the roof of the truck. He has to; he needs to. The desperation bubbles to his surface, lurking just beneath his skin. You’re the only one he can be like this with, the only one who can see through that hard mask he’s been wearing since you left the QZ. His emotions are getting the better of him — grief, pain, desperation, fear. He feels them all.

But he just really wants to feel you.

“Please,” he begs, and a beat later, your fingers hook into his belt loops, tugging him against you, one of your legs sliding between his. He bends his elbows, hearing the truck creak slightly as he pushes his weight against it, against you.

Slowly, your chin lifts, drops. A nod. Yes.

Your lips taste like salt. It makes him groan. Tilting his head to the side so he can kiss you deeper, one hand coming off the truck to bury in your hair, fingers twining in the strands. He feels you melt, slightly, a chip in the shell that has formed around you in your grief. 

He feels the same, feels like everything that’s wrong, everything that makes him hurt, is gone, the moment his lips find yours. It feels heightened, the weight of the last few days nearly making his knees buckle, the loss of Tess, the revelation of Bill and Frank. It feels like too much, but for just a moment, he can forget.

You moan when he flicks his tongue against the seam of your lips, asking. Your hands move up, unhooked from his belt to slide beneath his shirt, the flannel bunching over your wrists as you slide your palms over his stomach, glancing across the scar on his hip. Your fingers flatten against his ribs, and he tugs on your hair lightly, tilting your head back, groaning when you sink your teeth into his lower lip. 

Joel pushes forward again, until his hips are nearly flush with yours. Your thigh tightens between his legs, rubbing against the seam of his jeans, and the feeling makes him choke, mouth tilted away from yours as his breath hitches, suddenly feeling like a touch-starved teenager. “Joel,” you whisper, one hand skirting around to rest against his spine, the other moving down to his belt buckle. Your fingers curl behind the metal, knuckles scraping his lower stomach. “We should—”

He cuts you off with another kiss, wanting to taste you more, lick the salt from your lips. You let him, tugging on his belt, moaning when he drops his hand from your hair and lets it rest at the base of your throat. Joel drags his mouth along your jaw, nipping at the space below your ear, where your skin is thin, and he can feel the thump of your heartbeat against his lips.

“Joel,” you grit out, leaning your head back until it’s resting against the truck. It gives him better access to your neck, lets him lick a strip up your throat. “The kid—”

“—can’t hear us,” he finishes for you, the words mumbled into your skin. “I wanna—”

“We’ve been out here a while,” you cut him off, and Joel sighs, moving his hand from your collar, replacing it with his forehead. He braces his hands on the truck again, but you give yourself away, pushing your thigh slightly against the bulge in his jeans once more. “She’s gonna think we ditched her.”

“She can wait one more minute.”

“Joel.”

He sighs, but relents, leaving one last kiss on your lips before he tugs on your hand and pulls you out of the garage and back towards the house.

+

You find Ellie in the same place you’d left her, sitting in the chair at the dining room table. When you and Joel step through the doorway, her head shoots up, dark eyes moving between you both.

You’d nearly frozen on the porch, the weight resettling. Joel had done his best to chase it away — in fact, your lips still tingled with his efforts, a shot of heat between your legs you’re doing your best to ignore for the time being — but the moment you stepped through the front door, it had spiked again. The plates at the end of the table, the empty wine glasses, they didn’t help matters.

“Is everything okay?” Ellie asks, her voice low as she gets to her feet. “Do you have a plan?”

“Joel just made a battery for the truck Bill left,” you answer. “It’s charging right now.”

“Okay.”

“I have a brother out in Wyoming,” Joel says, and you glance at him, squeeze your fingers around his. “He’s in some kind of trouble and we’re heading out there to find him. He used to be a Firefly, and my guess is, he knows where some of ‘em are out there. Maybe they can get you to wherever this lab is.”

“All right,” Ellie nods, her eyes still darting between you and Joel. Then they drop to her hands. “Listen, you guys, about Tess, and Bill and Fr—”

You lift your hand, cutting her off. “I need you to listen to me, Ellie. If we’re taking you with us, there are ground rules.”

“Okay.”

“Number one, you don’t talk about what happened to Tess. We don’t talk about what happened to Tess. You understand?”

“Yes.”

“Two, you don’t tell anyone about what happened to you. If anyone sees that bite mark, they’re not gonna think twice. They’ll just shoot you, and there won’t be a damn thing either of us can do to stop it. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And three, if Joel or I tell you do to something, you do it. No questions asked. You do what we say, when we say it. Are we clear?”

“Yes.”

“Repeat it.”

“What you say goes.”

Joel’s fingers twitch against yours, and you share a look, something in you deflating as you sigh. “Okay,” he murmurs, nodding to you.

“So, what now?” Ellie asks.

“We stock up,” you say, repeating what Joel had said to you earlier. You glance at him. “How long will the battery take?”

“Couple hours,” he replies, and lifts his hand, moving it to the back of your neck. “Enough time to rest for a bit. Find some food maybe. I wanna know what’s in that bunker.”

“You and me both.”

It was the one place Bill never let you see. It was his boundary, and you respected it. But you couldn’t lie; the curiosity was getting the better of you. The three of you make your way down to the basement, Joel pulling up the set of drawers that makes up most of the ladder. There’s a grate over the opening, a keypad embedded into the floor, and Joel crouches down, enters the code. It slides open a second later, and he heads down first, you following, Ellie after you.

“Ho-ly shit,” the kid mutters, as Joel flicks on the lights, illuminating the wall of guns, the shelves of first aid and cans of food. She bee-lines for the weapons, and you move towards the stack of security screens, the computer that played your coded songs over the radio. “This guy was a genius.”

“That he was, kid,” you agree, tapping at the keyboard. Joel moves behind you, puts a soft hand on your back. “That he was.”

“Why was the music on?”

“If Bill didn’t reset the countdown every few weeks, then this playlist would run over the radio and we’d hear it back in Boston.” 

Ellie leans over the desk, peering at the screen. “Eighties.”

You tilt your head to the side. How does she know what the code was? You turn to Joel, who just grits his teeth, pointing toward the shelves lined with food at the back of the bunker. “Grab some cans from over there,” he tells her. “Nothin’ dented or swollen.”

She nods, going to do as he asks, but pauses at the wall of guns again. “Can I—?”

“No,” Joel says instantly. Ellie’s eyes slide to you for a second, but you say nothing.

“There’s a wall of them.”

Joel glares at her, and puts her hands up in surrender. As soon as she’s across the room, you turn to him. “How did she know about the code?”

“Back in Boston,” he tells you, a slight flare in his cheeks. “She found the songbook, asked me what the code was, what eighties meant. I didn’t wanna tell her, but she figured it out on her own. Said she heard a fuckin’ Wham! song while I was asleep. I panicked.”

You can’t help your grin. “Smart kid.”

The rest of the afternoon finds you searching the house. You steer clear of the closed bedroom at the end of the hall, and Ellie follows you around like a puppy, letting you take the lead as you look through cupboards and closets.

Rolls of toilet paper, cans of soup and veggies and the like, paper towels, first aid supplies, camping gear. You stack everything near the front door, piling it into bags Joel finds in the garage. 

Bill must have emptied out the boutique since you were last here, because Joel unearths boxes of clothes in one of the upstairs closets, finding a few boxes filled with ammunition in the process. You and Ellie pick through them while Joel goes hunting for more bullets, pulling out t-shirts and sweaters. You both reach for the same red t-shirt and Ellie freezes, her brows shooting into her hair. You concede, pushing the shirt towards her. “You take it, kid.”

“Thanks,” she mumbles, staring down at the fabric. “Liv, can I ask you something? It’s not about Tess, I promise.”

You reach for another shirt, inspecting it for a second before tossing it aside. Not your size, or your style. “Shoot.”

“How did you find Bill and Frank?”

The question settles over you like a blanket. It’s a harmless question, warranted even, and you can’t fault Ellie for her curiosity, especially after your reaction to their letters. She’s owed some answers.

But your moment of hesitation must show on your face, because she’s instantly backtracking. “I-I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me. I’m just—”

“No, it’s okay, kid,” you say, picking up a patterned fleece sweater. “Really.” She actually smiles, and you return it. “You ever heard of Fleetwood Mac?”

You tell her the whole story, how you found Frank on the radio, your first meeting, the trading you kept up over the years.

The friendship you held so close to your heart.

“Were you always a smuggler?” she asks, having taken a seat at the edge of the bed. You moved on to another box, men’s clothes, trying to find something for Joel. 

“Pretty much,” you answer, pulling out a green plaid shirt that looks oddly familiar. “Well, I wasn’t before the outbreak, but after everything went to shit, it was kind of my only option.”

“What about before the outbreak?”

“I worked in an office. Sat at a desk all day, it was kinda boring, to be honest.”

“Is that where you met Joel?” You shoot her a look, your brow raising slowly. She’s full-on grinning now. “You said it was a long story, and you said I could ask you something.”

“You already asked me something. Many somethings.”

“C’mon,” she groans, flopping back on the bed. “Please?”

You blow out a breath. “Fine. Joel and I met…” You trail off, squinting. “Twenty-two years ago, in a hardware store in Austin.”

“A hardware store?”

You nod, unable to stop yourself from smiling at the memory. “My grandparents owned one in Texas, and when they died, my parents took over. I had just finished college, and I was home for the summer, so I helped my dad out around the store. Joel came in one day and that was how we met.”

“And you’ve been together ever since.”

Your head drops, eyes downcast. “Not exactly.”

Ellie rolls onto her stomach, ducking her head so she can catch your eye. “Would you just tell me already?”

“The office job was in Boston,” you tell her, and her face pinches with confusion. “I left at the end of the summer, and we tried to make it work, but the distance sucked.”

She’s got her fingers locked together, bouncing her knuckles off her lip. “So you broke up.”

“We did,” you say with a nod, finding another shirt for Joel, a blue button-up not unlike the one he’s currently wearing, just a few shades darker. “I’d been in Boston just over two years when the outbreak happened. Dean attacked me, like I told you, and he was the first Infected I killed. Then the bombings. Then FEDRA started rounding up any survivors they could find, and we were holed up in the mall for a while, but then people started turning, so they moved us.” You sigh, flipping the box closed. “Next thing we knew, the QZ walls were up, and FEDRA took over.”

“But, Joel…?” She trails off, her confusion deeper.

The corner of your mouth quirks. “Five years after the walls went up, Joel’s brother showed up. They’d been travelling the entire time, stayed in the QZ in Baltimore for a few years before they got kicked out.”

“They got kicked out?”

“Tess got—” You cut yourself off, drop your eyes again. “They got caught smuggling in Baltimore, and FEDRA wasn’t having it. I snuck them in, and the rest is history.”

“Wait, okay, so,” Ellie starts, counting off the years on your fingers. “You’ve known each other for twenty-two years, the outbreak happened twenty years ago, but you didn’t see him again until five years after that, and you’ve been married for thirteen and—” She groans, putting her face in her hands. “That’s too much math.”

You giggle, tossing the red t-shirt she’d left between you at her. “We’ve been together a long fucking time, we can just leave it there.”

Ellie catches the shirt, sitting up, rubbing her fingers over the logo imprinted on the fabric. “So you got married in the QZ?”

“Yeah,” you nod, reaching for the fleece sweater you’d pulled out for yourself. The memory sparks. “But then Bill and Frank threw us a wedding here, actually.” Tears crawl up the back of your throat. “Surprised me with it, Joel planned the whole thing.”

“Joel did?” she repeats, surprised, her brows raising again. “No offence, he’s just kind of a grump.”

You bark a laugh, the tears receding slightly. “Time will do that to you, kid.”

She’s quiet for a moment before she reaches between you and grabs your hand. Her palm is clammy. “I’m sorry, Liv. About Bill and Frank. They sound like they were really great friends.”

You swallow hard, squeezing her hand, nodding. “Thank you, Ellie. They were.”

+

“Needs another hour,” Joel informs you, checking the dial on the charger. 

You’ve all moved to the garage, combing through Bill’s impressive collection of camping supplies. The bed of the truck is already half-full, and Joel’s helping you load a camping stove into the backseat when Ellie excitedly declares, having turned the work sink on, “They have hot water!”

You shut the truck door, your hand grazing Joel’s back as you step around him. “We’ve got time for showers.”

“Can I go first?” Ellie asks, her question directed at you, nearly bouncing on her heels. “Please?”

“Go on,” you tell her, jutting your chin toward the door. “Just don’t be too long.”

The kid grins broadly before disappearing out the side door of the garage. After packing a few more necessities into the truck, Joel checks the battery once more before following you back into the house. You lead him upstairs, into the guest room you’d stayed in when you’d come to Lincoln in the past. There are shirts laid out on the bed, a pair of jeans that look about his size, and toiletries. A bottle of soap, toothbrushes, a tube of toothpaste, even floss. Joel can’t remember the last time he saw dental floss.

Ellie had gone in the shower in the master bedroom, and distantly, the pipes rumble as the water shuts off. “Go get in,” you tell him, jutting your chin towards the bathroom off the guest room. “I’ll go make sure she’s okay.”

Before he can get a word out, you’re gone, disappearing across the hall, and Joel turns on his heel, heading for the bathroom. Much like the rest of the house, every surface is covered in a thin layer of dust, and he cranks the shower on, but lets the water run for a while, cleaning the film from the bathtub, letting steam fill the room as he wipes down the counter with the sleeve of his shirt. It’s already dirty, anyway. The mirror fogs at the edges, and Joel finds himself face-to-face with his reflection as he strips down.

His belt goes first, the leather curling off the edge of the countertop, the buckle thunking to the surface with a metallic clang. He lets his jeans hang open, sliding slightly off his hips as he undoes the buttons on his shirt. As he reaches the last one, you reappear in the doorway, your face neutral until his shirt hangs loose, and Joel sees your bottom lip slip between your teeth.

“I thought you’d be in already,” you say, your eyes raking over him before they meet his in the mirror. “Hot water and all.”

The apartment had running water, back in the QZ. Most of the time, anyway. But hot water? Not unless you were wasting generator power heating it on the stove and dumping it into the tub. This is a luxury no matter how you look at it. “Waitin’ for you.”

For a moment, Joel wonders if you’ll protest, if the kiss you shared in the garage, heated as it was, was all you would allow. He’d drop it if you did, would respect the boundary and step back from your line in the sand. He’s about to say as much when you step through the door, pushing it closed behind you and flicking the lock shut. Your eyes find his in the mirror again, and he watches you step closer to him, his back still to you.

Your hands reach up, fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, and you pull it back. Joel relaxes his arms, letting you peel it down, keeping it bunched at his wrists, a makeshift restraint.

“Baby,” he murmurs, turning his head to look at you when you lean up and press your lips to his spine. It makes a shudder run through him, and you move even closer, until he can curl his hands around your hips. Your own slide against his ribs, one moving up to rest right over his heart, which thumps wildly beneath your touch as the other hand roves lower, nails dragging as you slide beneath the elastic of his boxers.

You graze the base of his cock, and he can’t hold back the moan that slips out of him. You bite at the muscle of his shoulder, hard enough to make him jump, and your hand closes around him. “We have to be quiet, Joel,” you murmur. There’s a glint in your eye as he stares back at you, your eyes just visible over the slope of his shoulder.

He moves quickly, taking you by surprise. Joel pulls his hands free, his shirt falling to the ground, and he spins, turning so your hand stays where it is in his pants, catching the other with his own. He walks you backward, until your back hits the wall, and pins your hand over your head, his other fingers on your jaw. The kiss you share is rough, rougher than the one in the garage, a mess of teeth and tongue. His jeans slip down his hips, and you release him long enough to shove his boxers down, cock springing fee, curving up towards his stomach.

You pull your mouth from his just long enough to lick a stripe up your palm, and your hand closes around him again a moment later, slick with your spit, the way you twist your wrist making his eyes roll back in his skull. He releases your pinned hand, feeling it curl into his hair as he busies himself with the buttons on your shirt, the button on your jeans.

He’s panting into your mouth by the time he’s got your pants around your ankles. “Gonna fuck you in the shower,” he grits out, his forehead pressed to yours. He’s not gonna last. “Gotta do somethin’ first.”

“What—?” you start, but the question dies in your throat as he pulls your hand from his cock, dropping to his knees on the tile before you. He lifts your legs one at a time, tugging the jeans from where they’re caught around your feet, your underwear going with it.

Joel curls his hand around your knee, lifts it up and over, effectively spreading your legs as you’re pressed to the wall. He keeps your thigh in place, and presses his face against it, sucking a bruise into the sensitive flesh. You hiss above him, one hand locked in his hair, your face tilted to the ceiling.

As long as he lives, Joel will never get over the taste of you. He has you committed to memory, by now, knows exactly where to lick, where to suck, when to give you just that slight edge of teeth. He knows how to make you cum, and make you cum hard. But the moment his tongue touches you, it’s like the first time, every time, his tastebuds exploding with your unique flavour.

“Shh, baby,” he whispers into the crease of your thigh when you let out a little whimper, your hips canting towards his mouth. “Gotta be quiet.”

He drinks his fill of you. He chases away every rogue thought in his head — in both your heads — with his tongue, flicks at that little bundle of nerves until your thighs are quaking in his grip.

“Joel,” you gasp out, tugging on his hair slightly. “The water.”

“Right,” he grunts against you, knowing full well that the vibration of his voice sends a zap through you. “Tell me what you want, baby. You wanna cum on my tongue right now, or on my cock in the shower?”

“Shower,” you reply, your chest heaving with breaths. Joel grins, giving you one last lick before he’s moving back up your body, setting your shaky leg back down on the ground. He lets his mouth roam on the way up, nipping at your stomach, your chest, all the way back up to your lips.

The rest of your clothes go quickly, and he holds back the curtain for you to step under the spray. The moan you let out when the hot water hits your skin is nothing short of euphoric, and Joel’s cock twitches at the sound. He’s quick to follow, tugging the curtain back across the rain once you’re both inside. You’re standing directly under the spray, letting the water cascade over you, soaking your hair to your scalp, running in rivulets down your body.

Joel reaches for you, the warmth coating his hands first, moving up his arms as you curl your fingers above his elbows, pulling him forward to share the spray with him. He groans too, when the water hits him, and it’s coupled with a roll of your hips against his, your wet mouth seeking his beneath the water.

Your kisses are sloppy now, both of you growing languid with the heat beating down on you, hitting sore muscles and aching joints in just the right way. You slide your hand down his front, curling your fingers around his cock again, and Joel’s spine prickles. He lets you stroke him once, twice, before he’s grabbing your shoulders and turning you. Slowly, he bends you forward slightly, until your hands are pressed to the tile in front of you, your back arched and your ass pressed against his crotch. 

“There she is,” he murmurs, skimming his palm up your spine, until he can lock his hand in your soaked hair. He rolls his hips now, his other hand curled around your hip, and he slides your feet apart with his, his eyes drawn down to the curve of your ass. He releases your hip to take himself in hand, and draws his hips back, angling just right, the tip of his cock catching on your entrance before he’s slamming forward, filling you to the hilt in one fell swoop.

Your hand smacks against the tile loudly, your voice punched from your lungs, and you go so tight around him for a moment, Joel thinks your cumming already. But then your head turns in his grip, your eyes nailing him in place.

“More.” 

He’s never been one to deny you, and now is no exception. The ache in his bones is forgotten, the only thing he can think about right now is the feel of you around him, the way you arch up, your back pressed to his front, one hand reaching back to tangle in his hair. His hands are everywhere, mapping you out, squeezing every bit of flesh he can get his hands on. And all the while, he drives himself into you, deeper and deeper, turning your head with his grip on your hair and claiming your mouth for his own.

You curl your fingers around his wrist, pulling his hand down between your legs. He finds your clit easily, groaning when he feels how hot and wet you are, not just from the water. You whine as he pinches the bud between his fingers, drawing a tight circle that makes you clench around him.

“C’mon, baby,” he groans into your kiss, nipping at your bottom lip. “I wanna feel it.”

You shudder as you cum, and Joel feels every second of it, his own orgasm not far behind. The water pours over you both, and he just stays where it is, the aftershocks rippling through him, leaving behind that different kind of ache, the good kind.

Sighing, you fit yourself into his arms, angling your bodies so the water doesn’t hit you both in the face. Joel stays buried in you, hips flush with your ass, and you lean your head back on his shoulder, letting him dot kisses along your wet throat.

“Mmm, I needed that,” you murmur, leaning your head against his, rubbing your palms along his arms.

“Me too.” He lets his nose ride the curve of your jaw. “We could stay the night. Sleep in real beds, let me wake you up proper in the morning.” At the mere thought of your spread out on a bed for him, Joel twitches inside you.

But he feels your hesitation, feels it bristle across your skin like goosebumps. “We can’t, Joel. I-I can’t stay here, not knowing that they’re…” You trail off, but Joel nods. You don’t have to say anything more.

“I’m sorry, baby,” he murmurs, tightening his arms around you.

“I know.”

You spend what remains of the hot water actually getting clean. Joel groans when you lather his hair with shampoo, dragging your nails along his scalp, and he returns the favour. Lavender-scented soap swirls down the drain, and he wants to eat you alive.

Wrapped in towels, standing on the bathmat, Joel knocks his fingers beneath your chin and kisses you soundly. You, the one thing that always manages to keep him grounded, the one constant in this hell you’re traversing.

He can keep going, so long as he has you.

+

You leave Joel to dress in the bedroom, leaving him with one last kiss, raking your hands through his hair. It’s damp enough that it stays in place, slicked back over his skull, and you grin against his mouth. “Handsome.”

You can hear Ellie moving as you reach the bottom of the stairs, and turn towards the dining room to see her standing at the hutch in the corner of the room. One of the drawers is pulled open, and she has Frank’s gun in her hand. Her eyes are wide, literally like a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Liv, I wasn’t—”

“I didn’t see anything, kid,” you say, and turn your back. Once you hear the zipper of her bag, you turn around again, handing her a stick of deodorant. “Here.”

“Nice,” she answers, but you see her eyes go wary. “Liv, the gun—”

“What gun?” you repeat, lifting your brow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Ellie.”

She catches on, her face softening, and she stashes the deodorant as well. The stairs creak a moment later, and you turn your head to see Joel walk down, dressed in the green plaid you’d picked out.

“Well, don’t you look pretty,” Ellie comments, offering him a grin.

Joel looks at you, and you don’t miss the way his cheeks pinch with pink. “Shut up.”

You reach for Joel’s hand. “Let’s go.”

The three of you head into the garage, locking the front door from the inside before you head out. You know you don’t need to, but something about it makes you feel better. Ellie follows behind you as you walk around to the passenger’s side of the truck, and you don’t miss the way her eyes light up with curiosity.

Joel slides into the driver’s seat, and you nudge her with your elbow. “You wanna sit in the front?”

Her grin is infectious. “Really?”

You nod. “Go for it.”

You take her coat as she opens the door, leaving you to clamber into the backseat, fitting your bags and jackets between your seat and the stack of cans on the other side of the bench seat. Joel glances over his shoulder at you, a question in his eyes, and you just wave him off, reaching for your seatbelt.

In the front seat, Ellie flips the sun visor down and then back up, leaning forward to inspect it closer. You watch as she reaches out the open window, pushing on the side view mirror until it moves.

“First time in a car?” Joel asks, his voice low.

“It’s like a spaceship,” Ellie replies, and you laugh.

“No, it’s like a piece of shit Chevy S10,” your husband grits, and you lean back in your seat, settling against the headrest, “but it’ll get us there. I think. Seatbelt.”

“Hmm?”

Joel stares at the kid for a moment, his eyes cutting to you before he reaches across, grabbing the belt and pulling it across her. “Seatbelt,” he repeats.

Ellie listens, clicking the belt into place. “So cool.”

It just makes you laugh again.

Joel turns the key in the ignition, and you hold your breath before the engine rumbles to life. You watch him lift his hand, adjusting the rearview mirror, and he meets your eyes through it, something unspoken in them, comforting.

We’re gonna be okay.

He shifts the truck into drive, and slowly, it rolls forward, out of the garage and onto the road ahead. Ellie busies herself with the glove box, rummaging through the collection of tapes inside. “Would ya leave it?” Joel grumbles, glancing at her. She opens one of the cases, shaking the tape between her fingers. “Put it back, Ellie.”

“Joel,” you call softly, reaching out to put your hand on his shoulder. He’s tense, but relaxes a little when you dig your fingers in slightly. Ellie pushes the tape into the slot, and a moment later, a familiar song plays over the radio.

And I think it’s gonna hurt me, for a long, long time.

Ellie reaches for the radio, clearly not a fan, but you reach out, grabbing her arm. “Wait. Leave it.”

“Really?”

“Really,” you repeat. “It’s Linda Ronstadt.”

“You know who Linda Ronstadt is?” Joel asks, and Ellie gives him a withering look.

“You know I don’t know who Linda Ronstadt is.”

Joel turns the truck towards the gate, and as he rolls to a stop, he meets your eyes again in the rearview.

One of the last times you were able to get to Lincoln, after Frank got sick, the pair revealed to you an unofficial anniversary of sorts. “I’ve lost track of the years,” Frank told you, sat on the couch with you, leaned against your shoulder, “but what feels like a lifetime ago, on this day Bill helped me out of that hole, and I never left.”

“Just like that, huh?”

He’d chuckled, weakly pushing at your arm. “Not just like that. He cooked me dinner first, played a song on the piano.”

“What song?”

Frank had called for Bill then, and he’d appeared in the living room a moment later, concern on his face. “What? What is it?”

“Play our song?”

And he had. You had tears in your eyes by the end of it.

And I think I’m gonna miss you, for a long, long time.

Joel reaches for the remote on the dash, keying in the gate code once more. Tears crawl up the back of your throat as the fence slides across, opening for you to drive through. Joel glances over his shoulder at you, and you squeeze his shoulder again. “Eh,” Ellie mumbles, tipping her back against the headrest. “It’s better than nothin’.”

Joel pulls the truck through, and you leave Lincoln behind. You turn, looking through the back window as the gate slides shut again.

And I think I’m gonna love you, for a long, long time.

PREV | NEXT

You know. Maybe I should look over profiles more often. Do my eyes deceive me? Or have I stumbled upon another Franklin Saint Obsessor?

Ayeeee' how you doin' sis?

🙌🏾💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Heyyy sis and yes I am franklin saint obsessor I love your blog by the way it’s amazing the way you write about franklin it’s perfection 💕but I have been good I’m currently working on chapter 2 on my story but yeah I’m excited 🎉how you doin’ sis?

SNOWFALL SEASON 4 Franklin.

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Soft Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Hurt/Comfort, Soft Smut. Use of the n-word. ONE SHOT!

Summary: With life spinning out of control and the war ragging in the neighborhood, you come to find that you are alone more and more under the watchful eye of Peaches. Being without Franklin has started to get to you. Can he convince you that brighter days are ahead?

Word count: 8,083k / Please consider rebloging and leaving a comment to show some love and support. Like this story? To read other works please check out the Masterlist.

“I was just gon' let sleeping dogs lie, but then you had to go behind my back. Talk about my bidness, and create a whole shit storm of problems for me and mine and I can't have that. Can't lay in bed at night knowin’ that at any minute my future can't get blown up by my past. So, if there's somethin’ you wanna say to me, somethin’ you wanna get off your lil chest then please say it now because after this I promise, I fuckin’ promise you there are no more chances!”

“Alright. There's one thing. Tell me the truth you'll never hear from me again. Admit that you killed my daddy. Be man enough to tell me that I'm not crazy. Give me that at least.” 

“Bye Mel. Take care of yourself.” 

…

When Franklin Saint walked into Dallas Fort Worth international airport at 5:45PM, on Sunday March 22nd, in the year of 85, he wasn’t sure at what point his childhood left him. When he committed his first murder or when he lost his shoes and encountered RayRay and his boys in jail. 

In the end, it disappeared. 

The old Franklin was somewhere blowing in the wind and gone like a distant memory long ago left behind. At times when the world managed to get quiet enough, he thought about Kevin, about the time he’d taken them to the beach. How amazing it was. So amazing. So new for Leon and Kev. Did he miss that version of himself? Or was he okay with the new one? Those questions remained unanswered in his subconscious yet to be challenged, but the point was growth wasn’t it? There was no way he would have remained the same through all of this. All the bullshit. While he may have looked unchanged, the mind matured with strategy. He’d married the game. Formed an unbreakable wow. Such logic justified the journey. Justified everything that led to him straying the course just to find Melody in Odessa to make a point. He would not tolerate being fucked with, even by the girl he once loved.

He never wanted to kill Andre Wright, and made no tangible confession. Only a slight nod of confirmation for the girl next door. 

He owed her more then that he knew, but fuck it. Life goes on. The past had to stay the past, so he never let a word be heard from his lips. She couldn’t handle the truth even if she craved to have it.

Seeing her again amplified the pain of being shot. He did not expect it. But he would carry the scars of her murder attempt for the rest of his life. A cold hard memory, forever edged in his flesh. Keloided in three different places on his back, the reality haunted Franklin most nights, and he would wake up in cold sweats with the sound of a gunshot ringing in his ears right after seeing the light leave Andre’s eyes and transport him to whatever came next, that undoubtedly awaited them all. 

He remembered the blank look set to Mel’s glazed hues. Maybe she'd been cracked out on the day of the funeral, but her ominous gaze damn near swallowed him up. He’d left this woman heartbroken without a father, so he understood her hatred. He'd eliminated her protector. Never the intention, but being a police officer, Aundre became a bigger problem than Franklin had been willing to accept. What happened to Jerome, couldn't happen again. Still, walking away from Mel that day had to be one of his saddest goodbyes. Just another one to add to the collection of regrets and hard decisions lost in his path to freedom. 

The game owed no loyalty to the past. 

It changed and transformed faster than the young L.A native could blink an eye. He moved with it, leaving things he once knew behind for better or worse. 

Franklin wasn’t a fool. As soft as the nature of a woman could be, there was no way he could have two. Even in his mind. So, he did what needed doing.  

Franklin learned alot about sacrifices and brutality. A great pain hid behind the action of the will it took to put a gun to Aundre’s head and pull the trigger. The same will it took to stop Kevin from kicking off a race war. Or the tears he couldn't stop when he watched his mother board the plane to an uncertain future without him in it. Pain Franklin kept hollowed. The same pain led him to hit Alton with the back of his gun the night he'd confronted him about the reporter he’d been talking to, which made business with Teddy less than pleasant. Franklin would be lying if he didn’t admit he’d looked up to Andre in some aspects. 

His father was absent for a significant part of his life, either by addiction or choice. To make up for his absence, Franklin collected father figures. Men he could count on for some type of pathway to adulthood. He molded and modeled himself after these examples, taking bits and pieces from different sources in the neighborhood. The old gray head who owned the liquor store, or Mr. Dunkin, who’d been well known for fixing cars at half price. Or Aundre Wright, who although Franklin thought a sellout, had only wanted the best for his little girl.  

Fucking Alton. 

Every now and then, the former Black Panther’s words would roll back in Franklin’s memory like a bursting tumor. 

You are killing us all. Don’t you see that? 

He didn’t like it, but success always came at someone else’s expense. That was the entire foundation of the American Dream. What America was built on. A lie sold to those who never had a chance at it anyway. Someone had to lose in order to win. In this case Aundre and Melody Wright, Fat Back, Courville, Khadijah, and the list went on. The unlucky contenders, and for that he was sorry.

Franklin shut his eyes to drown out the noise. Just business. He couldn’t let the shit get to him. To think that it became personal. He never planned to destroy his own people. His moves all had the same objective. Freedom. A way out of poverty. A better life for his mother, a brighter future for himself. He sure as hell wouldn't get that kind of opportunity at college, and he damn sure wouldn't be anything sitting behind a desk all day kissing the white man's ass like some good house nigga. To help his people once he got his own shit right, that was the goal. It would all just take time, but he'd turn it around. Most never even thought about that when they came up on an opportunity for a little bit of money. He’d convinced himself he’d be different from the majority. He’d be the one to do what others before him hadn't. He never meant to hurt anybody, even if he wanted so desperately to win. 

Family. 

Manboy spoke on family one time. But, the motherfucker said a lot, all the time. He’d talked about how he’d lost respect because right and wrong hailed more weight when Franklin refused to give up his people for the death of Skullys little girl. Manboy on the other hand had been ready to take his own out if it meant standing on principle. 

Leon without a doubt was Franklin’s family, his best friend, and the reality of that truth was the reason he’d made the conscious choice to make Manboy an enemy. Despite that, Franklin would be lying if he thought the niggas words didn’t hold at least some weight. 

You think you gon make it outta this? These niggas, they gon’ turn on you. 

He looked Manboy right in the eye when he pulled the trigger, ending his life. The very first time he felt absolutely nothing. 

The game showed him a lot of things.

Franklin convinced himself that when it came to Manboy, it all boiled down to survival. He had broken his own word to save Leon and to protect the source of his power, the plug. But Lee was his family, and losing Kevin had been enough. Him and Lee, they'd made this journey together ever since their encounter with korvell. So he rendered him protection. 

Still, he wondered who’d be the next one to press the knife into his back. He would never consider Jerome, Louie. 

Feeling rather incomplete without the cane he’d left behind at the church for Melody’s last and final reminder of him, Franklin shifted his stance while he waited in line as his mind settled. Amidst all the chaos there seemed to be a light at the end of the tunnel.  

Had he found the one this time? A woman who could help him grow his empire? 

Franklin took out the photograph. He carried it in his pocket. Cissy had taken it in the living room one afternoon. A different version of the moment existed, one that did not belong to him. His eyes drank in everything. From the almond hues, to the beautiful melanated complexion that complimented him so well. Skin that looked painted on. A smile that required nothing in return which greeted him whenever he'd come in from battle. From taking on the world. The best part, it didn’t just exist within a picture. He had something tangible. The living breathing experience of authentic partnership. Real. 

Could a man exist without his appetite? Whether for wealth or purpose-made. A woman. Such a divine combination reminded him of Fire and Smoke. They had a catastrophic attraction. But when it was right. It was right. A compliment to his genetic makeup. Balance. Hard, soft. Masculine, feminine, woman, man. It all aligned. He’d found his peace somehow through all the chaos. Franklin smiled to himself. He couldn’t wait to return to it. To peace. 

The airport bustled with travelers. Franklin kept his eyes on the large board of flight plans while searching his pockets until he’d made it all the way to the front of the line and placed his ticket on the counter top. He watched the woman take it and begin to type something into her computer. 

“Oh. I’m so sorry. This flight got canceled.” She placed the ticket on the surface of the counter and slid it forward toward him.  

Franklin took it up skeptically. He needed to be back in L.A. The trip to Odessa was supposed to be quick and easy. “What. You sure?” 

“Mmm hmmm.” She peered down at the register. “Yeah, next time I have is 7 in the morning tomorrow, sir. Looks like you’re making yourself comfortable in Odessa for one more night.” 

She pulled a facial expression. One that articulated this half ass sorry in so few words. Franklin might have found it comical, if the new information hadn't frustrated him. 

He needed to be back.

The young drug lord stood silent. Too long. The person behind him cleared their throat, pulling Franklin back to the reality of the situation. He licked his lips and took the ticket, shoving it in his pocket in a messy fold. He gave the woman a quick grin, forced by the tension in his jaw. 

Franklin moved from the line and walked away as he muttered a low ‘fuck’ through gritted teeth.

….

To most people the space would read as a regular school auditorium. Nothing special. But for you it felt like a huge stage at a big opera house with a million eyes staring at you. And this, almost being what one would call a final performance.

Everyone dressed in fancy clothes and talked in hushed voices. You were nervous, but excited. You had never played for such a grand audience before, or any audience for that matter. A lot of what you'd created never saw the light of day. It stayed very much hidden, away from public scrutiny. Tonight you were taking a chance. That bold opportunity to finally be heard. Only, the words would fall upon deaf ears, to the person who they'd been meant for.

Two distinct times, you could remember two distinct times when the night sat still and Franklin had disturbed the quiet with his jolt awake, drenched in sweat and gasping for air. The second time was the worst. It took almost an hour to convince him he wasn’t where he thought. In prison, surrounded. He could never describe to you the haunting images from his nightmare, but you knew that the war in which he found himself had taken its toll. Caught up to him. He suffered this suffocating fear and guilt with memories that threatened to consume him, always. You weren’t sure he would welcome your arms on that one occasion that changed everything, but his guard had lifted with time and trust. Then without hesitation when you saw such a small opportunity, you wrapped arms around him and pulled him close, holding him tight as he trembled. If he ever cried he wouldn’t let you see it. But you knew he wanted to, and often. As some form of release, you became the substitute. He poured his pain into you in the form of intimacy and sex. So from that point forward, all you ever wanted to be for Franklin was Comfort, Safety, and Peace.  

But that meant an even exchange. 

Bottom line. He should be among those in the auditorium. That was all you could think as you stood behind the curtain listening to the tune the current pianist played. You hadn't asked for much. Nor required a great deal. So then, you had to strike the feeling of being let down, although disappointment was not something foreign to you. Truly, you'd known it most your life, but somehow you'd convinced yourself that this time would be different. That this man you’d chosen to invest your time into was different. This man who’s word you chose to cling to. 

You were dressed in the beautiful rose pink gown that you had carefully chosen for the night. You’d been waiting for this evening for weeks and finally the soft chiffon fabric hugged your curves and made you feel glamorous. A special occasion, you spent hours perfecting your hair and makeup for the elegant evening ahead. You even put on silver high heels, which had been unlike you. And your hair was braided in four large french braids that inner connected into a large roped bun. 

“Well maybe he will make it. Maybe if we just wait a little while longer. I can try and speak to the director, just so he has time to get here.”

Remembering the conversation, you hated how annoying your voice sounded with so much hope and optimism. Peaches, his right hand and the one whom he had to stay with you, of course brought you back down to reality. 

“I'm sorry. But he ain't gonna make it.” 

Why did you fight with yourself even when the truth was right in front of you? You shouldn't have let him go to Odessa. Wait. Let him? You had to check yourself on that one. Franklin was a grown ass man. He would have gone with or without an okay from you, and you knew that. You figured that the trade off was the promise he'd made to show up. 

‘Won't take long. Fly there, fly back. Round trip. Simple. Just, somethin’ I gotta do. All this is almost over. Aight babe?’ 

Business. You accepted that sometimes your wants and needs had to be put on the back burner. Fine. Sacrifice happened in any relationship for any couple. That was to be expected. But did give and take happen also? That was where you saw the unbalance when it came to you and Franklin. You gave and gave and gave with little to show for in return. The relationship you’d had with your father growing up was something of a similar occurrence. You’d wait by the window holding on to empty promises of his return to spend time. A return that never came. He thought that time could be made up with gifts, those cold lifeless objects that held no meaning except disappointment. He’d traded you for an appetite he’d had for the women he’d left your mother for, and you of course were no exception to this selfishness. In the end, he left you both. 

Only for this man. This man that had come into your life, Franklin Saint, you did not wait by the window. Instead you tried to search for his face in a sea of onlookers as the allpause mellowed out and the announcer called for you to make your way onto the stage, sparking a whole new wave of anticipation from the crowd. Peaches could be wrong. Franklin could have made it, and to your surprise have found his seat in the vast expanse of strangers to watch you perform a piece he’d encouraged you to finish. A piece of music he’d said had been the moment he fell in love with you when you first played it on a Wednesday. 

A song written for him. 

“There are no words,” you warned as you held the sheet of music to your chest like a well kept secret. 

“That's fine.” 

You were sure to make note of his eyes and the tantalizing grin he held when he said the next part. 

“Some things don't need um.” 

You couldn’t help it, you took his words to heart. So with a deep breath you walked on the stage. 

Maybe not a million, but there were a lot of people already there. A good forty, although your eyes could have betrayed you in the count. You faced forward focusing only on the path. If you looked too hard, the moment would swallow you up and devour you whole. 

When you made your way to the piano and sat down, there came a pounding in your chest. Nervously you adjusted the bench and placed fingers on the keys. You closed your eyes trying to fight back the want, that burning need to look out in the crowd one last time before you began to play.

At first your hands were trembling, but soon the music began to flow from your fingertips.Starting off slow as you followed the sheet music, you allowed the notes to linger in the air. 

People had begun to pay attention. 

You hoped the music would take them on a journey. A journey of your and Franklin’s love story. From the light and airy notes to the deep and soulful melodies, it spoke of everything. The nightmares, and demons that chased him. The compromise and the love it took to hold on. How much you loved him. And a question in certain notes; did he love you just as much? It couldn't be described in words. But maybe if the tune traveled high enough, the wind would carry the song all the way to Odessa, and remind him to remember you were still back in L.A, waiting. 

Your fingers flew over the keys, as if they had a mind of their own. This strange wave of emotion coursed through your body as the notes filled the room.

The crowd, entranced and engaged made you feel more comfortable, so you began to pick up the pace. They must have been mesmerized. The only noise in the room had been your song speaking from the inner workings of a man made creation. As the music grew, your fingers moved faster and faster, as if dancing with the notes.This dedication to Franklin Saint.

When you finally finished, the room erupted into applause. You had played on the piano, yours and his story, and had done it, magnificently. This small surge of pride trickled in as you stood up and bowed. You realized only when you took the second bow that tears were streaming down your cheeks in hot trails of accomplishment and disappointment. 

…

The sun had just started to peek over the horizon, casting a warm orange glow while you drove down the highway with the smell of Peaches joint filling the space in the Lincoln continental. 

It was your favorite time, sunrise, when the city was just starting to wake up.

The palm trees swayed in the gentle breeze, the skyscrapers glinted in the sun, and the Hollywood sign loomed in the distance. The city had its fair share of chaos and traffic, but there was something magical about it so early in the morning. It was as if L.A was a blank canvas, waiting for its inhabitants to create something beautiful as the day progressed.

You turned up the radio, humming along to the tune of your favorite song as you took in the sights around you with eyes still delicate and sore from all the crying you had done hours after returning from your performance. Although you tried to stifle your cries into the sems of pillow cases, you knew Peaches had heard you. So that morning when he told you Franklin had paged him that he was back in town, he never asked about the redness of your eyes. The two of you boarded the car in silence and Peaches, like always, only followed instructions. 

It was a winding road that brought you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation as Peaches neared the destination. The airport where Franklin would be waiting. 

The possibilities for the day ahead seemed endless when you pulled up to the sliding doors to find him standing outside of them. 

Peaches got out first, and your gaze drank Franklin down to his shoes. There was something missing. Hesitantly you took hold of the handle on the door and opened it, getting out before shutting it behind you and approaching. 

He’d met you half way and pulled you into a hug. L.A had been warm, but Franklin held a different type of warmth and you basked in it before you sniffed back tears. “Are you okay,” you murmured into his chest. 

Franklin pressed his hands on your back. It was no longer a gentle hug, but one in which he tried to express himself. Say in little words that he'd been glad to see you. His hands spoke as if it had been longer than a day. Like this hug made up for all the times he'd left you. “Yeah,” came out simple, but there was something attached to it. Closure. “How was the-”

You sat up and broke away from his hold. “Fine. It went fine. No big deal really. Didn't mean anything.”

Franklin was staring at you with this look. Hard to describe. Nonetheless filled with emotion in the eyes at least. His face in general remained stoic. “I'm sorry.”

To counter that you smiled through hues under a thin glaze of tears. “Ready…” you said and turned to face the Lincoln Continental. You didn't wait for his response. Only walked. A glance passed between you and Peaches. This time when you got in, you sat in the back. A minute later, Franklin followed. 

It wasn’t the silence that brought on your breaking point, but the fact that one of the songs that made its way from the speakers had a very specific piano break in it. 

“Peaches, can you pull over please. I’d like to get out.” 

Peaches hazel eyes reflected in the overhead mirror before he threw a glance and Franklin who had stared at you. 

“Why?” he said.

The tears couldn’t be stopped. They overflowed and spilled. 

“Because I want to take a quick walk on the beach. When will you ever see it be more beautiful than right now?”

The beach, symbolic for both of you. Just in different ways. 

Franklin and Peaches passed glances between one another with Franklin gently nodding his head. 

The drive had reached the outskirts of the city and the highway opened up to a stunning view of the ocean. The sun was now fully risen, and its rays danced on the water, creating a breathtaking scene. The car pulled over to the side of the road. 

As soon as it came to a complete stop, you got out.

You were able to walk a few paces in the sand before you’d chosen a spot to plop down on and face the sparkling waters ahead. You let yourself cry, and the crying quickly turned into sobbing as you pulled your sleeves to wipe your eyes clear. 

Footsteps began to fill in behind you. Franklin stopped just shy three feet from where you sat. “I meant to be there.” His words flooded in from behind, and you shut your eyes tightly.

“Baby please.” He took the three steps to get to you and took a seat on the sand beside you. 

As your breath caught in your throat you tried to scramble out words that would make sense. “I needed. I just. I wanted you to...” 

You sniffed and found by the next second Franklin had pulled you close and drew his arm around you to bring you into him. 

“I know babe,” He whispered at the base of your ear. “I know…” 

By the time you’d calmed down your eyes were even more swollen and you’d soaked Franklin’s shirt with tears. As his hand moved over the skin of your forearm he watched the people walking by before he focused solely on the ocean view. “Imma make this right. Make it up to you…”    

When you were guided back to the car by Franklin's direction you clung to those words. Words you wanted so desperately to believe in. You would never obtain the same moment, in that same place and time, but you were willing to make new memories, give him the opportunity. 

As Peaches headed back to your apartment, Franklin’s hand stayed locked to yours the entire way. He hadn’t left your side since departing from the beach, and every now and then he would look in your direction and pull your hand up to leave a soft kiss on the exposed skin before directing his attention to the window. When he did this you smiled briefly before your gaze would fall again. Sometimes to the hand he kissed, and other times to the scenery going by in the opposite window. 

Pulling into the available space on the block, Peaches parked the Lincoln and shut it down. 

“You can take off for the rest of the day. I need to handle some things.” Franklin’s eyes found you. 

You held his gaze briefly before you looked toward the front seat. “Bye Peaches. Thank you.” You opened the door and got out. 

Franklin not far behind stopped before he’d made it halfway. The familiar sound of his beeper rocked your eardrums.  

He looked down at the belt where it sat and released a sigh. “Shit.” 

You closed your eyes. Standing with your back to him. You turned and watched Franklin ascend the back seat, close one door and open another. He found your eyes, and let go of the car door to walk over to you. As you watched him, that's when you realized the thing that had been missing. His cane. You were standing on the sidewalk one foot in the direction of your apartment and the other toward him.This destination, unknown. 

“Uh. Look babe I gotta make this call. It’s-” 

You cut him off. “Business. I know.” The smile that you produced this time had been one of sadness unable to mask. You couldn’t tell him to stay. He wouldn’t. So you wouldn’t put on a scene. After all, you wanted to be his peace. 

Suddenly those words of hope had faded for you. The only thing you could utter without totally blowing away like a passing whisper on the wind was, “Be careful.” 

You brushed the side of his face with your fingers, turned and started walking, unwilling to look back and destroy yourself with longing and the depravity that he would not follow. When you got to the door, you unlocked it and went inside leaving the rest of the world and Franklin to his priorities.   

…

Worry would eat away at you everytime he left. You wondered why you couldn’t be more like Louie. It seemed she never left Jerome’s side, always there, always present, taking an active role in business. Franklin wouldn’t hear a word of it. You asked him once, just out of curiosity, and he had shut you down with this stern regard. 

“Naw. I’m not gettin’ you involved in this shit.” 

You protested, eager to try your luck, offering within the words you’d spoken that you would be careful. Play the game.  

“But why not? I’m pretty smart. I think. Besides I would be with you and-” 

“No.” 

So then you would never be like Louie, with time or tact. You hadn’t chosen your fate but settled into it in your little apartment finding things to clean or read, or do. A prisoner of uncertainty. But you found you often missed his presence in finding these things, his laughter filling the rooms and his warm embrace that always made you feel safe and protected. 

Franklin wore two different faces. One for the world and the other that he kept especially for you. Out there he might be cold, detached and focused, but when he stepped across the threshold he was hearty, affectionate and free. 

That was always the hardest part, waiting.

Your little apartment never felt so lonely, until you walked in it that morning by yourself. You sat on a plush red velvet couch in front of a vintage record player. In the corner of the living room, a wooden bookshelf stood tall, filled with old vinyl records. Your love for music was evident in every corner of the apartment. A way to make up for the empty space where you were hoping a piano could one day sit. You didn’t need anything fancy, just something that would keep a tune, convey it well.

Your family had never understood your style, especially when it came to your apartment. The furniture was a mix of retro and modern. These two opposites coming together. You always held the position that a clash was needed to create something extraordinary. Whether that was true or not you wouldn’t admit that you had bad taste. It screamed music, music, music! The walls were adorned with vibrant posters of famous musicians and bands, from Billy Ocean to Cameo.

Looking around, you thought of ways to curb your loneliness. You started with the obvious. Cleaning.

Within the hours it took for the house to be spotless with everything in its proper place, you’d scrubbed, dusted, and organized all with an eager anticipation that better days lay ahead. 

You’d lost friends being with Franklin Sanit. You could remember how one statement used to stay on your mind. 

“Leave him, get a fuckin’ back bone. You really want this to be your life, day after day?” 

You didn’t want it to be, foolish or not, you were willing to suffer, for love. 

Franklin missed dinner. Two tablespoons of extra virgin olive oil, one pound of Italian sausage, chopped onions, salt, black pepper, and the noodles and sauce it took to complete the spaghetti dish, not to mention the freshly fried catfish you’d added as a side. 

You made enough to feed at least four. Some for left overs and whoever Franklin decided to bring. Sometimes it would be Leon, and other times Jerome. And if it were Jerome he would always take a plate for Louie. Even Cissy stopped by once. Usually though, Peaches always got a plate. But eatting alone made you tired and the bubble bath you ran after, steam rising to the atmosphere of silence took the last of your resolve. 

As the night fell and the city lights came to life, you entered your bedroom wrapped in a purple towel.The walls were painted in a soft pink hue, with delicate lace curtains on the windows. A vanity table sat in front of a large mirror, with antique perfume bottles and jewelry boxes.The bed was covered in a floral quilt, giving the room a touch of femininity.You remembered when you’d given Franklin the grand tour. He had placed his hands behind his back and chuckled before turning to give you a look. “Damn. Think you got enough pink in here babe?” His eyes traveled and kept that little smile that complimented him. More of a smirk, and you playfully pushed his shoulder for making fun of your bedroom decor. 

That was before the war outside got bad. You remembered him being around more in the beginning. Then little by little, he wasn’t.

You’d found a place on your bed, right in the view of that dress you wore the night before. It layed over a chair with silver shoes close by. 

Falling back on the mattress you let the towel’s hold break its covering. The temperature of the room allowed a chill to cross your naked skin, but with a lazy arm you’d pulled the comforter and shaded yourself in the darkness of its covering. You laid there listening to the silence until eventually you closed your eyes to the temptation of sleep. 

…

Your senses spiked. A faint sound of running water filled your hearing. You could talk in the morning. Say everything you needed to say. All those words left unsaid, written in a song. Instead of surrendering to waking up completely, you stretched your limbs within the softness of the blanket. You had meant to get up and find yourself something to sleep in after laying down that night, but your energy had been displaced from the oils in the bath, the thoughts of whether or not he would make it back in one piece, if this was in fact going to be your life, day after day, and hurt. Hurt because you had been let down. Once again you surrendered to a slumber that was calling you back to it. 

Your dreams could be so vivid. Almost like they were real. Time became a concept unknown to you, and even if you wanted to search for the blinking numbers that would expose an actual answer on whether it was day or night, you didn’t open your eyes to force any discovery. There was no light to guide your way anymore. Someone had turned it off. The yellow glow was void in your tiny bedroom. Instead, all you focused on was the sensations you felt. A Lot of times when Franklin had been off fighting in this war, you slid your hands between your legs and pretended he was there with you, touching you. But these sudden sensations became all too real! 

The distinct difference between thought and matter.

When the protective cloud you’d situated yourself in had slowly pulled from your body, only to be replaced with warm living flesh which covered you, you knew you were not in any dream. 

He must have climbed in the bed already de-clothed straight from the shower. Normally you would be pulling at fabric and trying to free him from it, but not this time, this time those extra implications were absent. They'd been replaced by actions, and the evidence of his oncoming pleasure. Already hot and hard against your thigh, your inner walls desperately wanted something to latch onto.

Franklin’s lips were gentle. They showed up in different places. First your arm, then your shoulder, your neck, your collar bone, then to your cheek before a soft kiss pressed down over your lips. You opened your eyes and your vision cleared to find Franklin staring down at you before he lifted his head so that your noses touched. There was so much you wanted to say. The thoughts you had when he was gone were completely different from the ones you had when he was right there staring at you face to face. 

“Franklin. I -”  

“Kiss me,” he whispered.

Your blood pulsed at the command. Aching now, you pressed your lips over his, gentle but firm, and he proceeded to explore your mouth with tongue once you allowed entry before pulling from your lips all together to proceed in exploration. 

His body slid down in an erotic trail over yours and you closed your eyes to acknowledge a breath that hitched in your throat as he moved. It started when he traced the path of your stomach, leaving the light sensation that sent this pleasurable chill racing through your core and up your back. 

You suppressed a shuttering moan when his warm tongue found a different place on your skin and your nipples hardened under his touch. He’d keep hold on one and his mouth would pleasure the other running his tongue in circles before his lips sucked and pulled. Then he’d focus on the other, leaving the first exposed to the air that left a tingling desperation which begged to be spoiled further. Franklin didn’t stay in one place. He pressed on. A soft hum escaped your throat when his tongue touched the delicate skin. One of the area’s where you were the most vulnerable. 

Your blood caught fire, pooling into your lower abdomen, wetting your core unexpectedly as one of his hands caressed the back of your leg. He was teasing you but you were powerless. The sensation of Franklin’s touch was overwhelming so early, or late. You couldn’t hardly think, or even breathe. You felt like you were caught between spaces. Reality and a dream. Sleep desperately clung to you, but Franklin’s words pulled you all the way into consciousness. 

“Let me make it up to you. Let me take the pain away…”  

And you hadn’t even noticed when he lowered his head and his lips vibrated over your mound when he hummed those heated words into your folds. 

A wave of pleasure skittered through your nerves. You felt trapped, but not in the sense that you wanted an xscape. Your body was completely under Franklin’s sovereignty. His tongue, turning your entire form into a quivering mess of heated flesh as he moved forward, fingertips pressing into the inner parts of each of your thighs. His head delved between your legs and he tasted the very essence of you. 

Struggling to hold back the moan fighting its way through your chest, you pulled on the bed sheets. 

Franklin watched you through lidded eyes, and like a man who’d been left unfed there presented to him a favorable delicacy. You couldn’t contain yourself. You moaned when his tongue lapped at your center, his thumb separating the delicate skin to give himself better access. 

He ate. And ate well.  

Your panting filled the air, so sudden that you hadn’t realized you’d surrendered in that moment. Your body on impulse pulled away, but Franklin, alert and determined, wouldn’t let you escape. “Em, Em,” was all you heard filling the room as he protested your departure. That, and the movement on the bed springs giving indication that Franklin had then secured you in place.

With no way of escape you whispered his name in a lust laden tone. “F-Franklin, please p-please, Ahh. I can’t…Uh!” You cried these pleasurable words into the room that contained your many sessions of love making which were mingled in begging him to stop, and also begging him at the exact same time to suck out your very soul! 

You should be angry with him. Upset still, but all that undoubtedly had washed away.

Once you got the opportunity to look at his face for a brief moment, you noticed how he seemed to be delighted by your uneven breaths. Like seeing you so vulnerable gave him pleasure. 

The power this man had over your body and heart was almost frightening.

A soft bite at your inner thigh and you rewarded Franklin with this husky-like moan as your legs shoot. Your body jerked forward when he grazed your clit with the pad of his finger and you bit your lip ever so gently when you heard him hum in this proud satisfaction that he had you right where he needed you. Under his control. His talented mouth had rendered you sensitive to touch of any kind, and as he reached down to stroke his ridgid manhood, to prepare, you closed your eyes and clung to the sensation you'd trapped in your senses.The preparation was always the best part. This anticipation and the moment of entry you desired every time he made love to you.

Another gentle caress across your inner thigh had you clenching your walls. Franklin rubbed the tip of his erection teasingly over your folds. He always liked to cause you some sort of suffering right before, just a little bit. But too long had he deprived you with his business and war, family squabbles and old feelings, so you spoke without ever moving your lips to extend your hand down to grab what you craved until it moved inside you. 

It might be the only time you stole his power. 

Your breath caught at the connection, you could feel yourself being filled up and stretched out. You pulled in your bottom lip as Franklin pressed forward deeper and deeper taking back his position of dominance. 

Your inner muscles quaked and you lifted your head to find your lips hungry to explore his mouth. Either that or you needed a place to shuffle in your moaning, and that had been the first choice. Damn you for being considerate, but you didn't want Peaches to hear. Your small little apartment could get deathly quiet, especially at night, and although there was a good chance Franklin had sent him home after returning, oftentimes he would be somewhere close in proximity. Sure, you wanted to be mindful in the midst of your love making, but your mind wavered. When you kissed Franklin you tasted yourself in the process as he burrowed inside your body only to withdraw before diving back again and that alone ignited a suppressed desire to focus on nothing but him. 

The pace started slow at first but the inner workings of your core instinctively enveloped him begging for more attention. Franklin thrusted in again. You responded by whispering his name. He liked hearing his name. This time it was Franklin who rewarded you with a moan, as he sucked in a breath that transferred back out on shuttering lips. Although he hardly said much, he made up for it with his reactions. You didn't want his words. As he said before, some things didn't need them. His breathing, panting, subtle moans and grunts told the story perfectly. He felt the same as you did. You wanted more of him, and he wanted ALL of you! You closed your eyes and wrapped your arms around his back and neck, as your fingers traveled over his heated skin while your entangled bodies moved together in a steady rhythm.

Your wet slick flesh quivered around his length and the pleasure filled cries which escaped you knocked against the surrounding space along with the sounds of skin slapping against skin. Sorry Peaches. Franklin’s breathing had sped up too. You were now lost in eachother. You moved against him, taking him into your body eagerly. This pace tortured him. Slow, deep long strokes that hit every spot in perfect magnetism of the skin to skin contact. You both felt it, but Franklin’s mouth was wide open and a glance before you looked down to watch him disappear into you again indicated that your tight hot hole was right where he needed to be. Now he knew the feeling of being trapped. 

“Fuck.” He lowered his head and muttered your name in what could only be described as an ecstasy filled sigh of relief. Perspiration had begun to form on his forehead, and without warning he picked up the pace of his steady thrusts. Faster, harder, he was now, glistening, covered in your pool of moisture that guided his way in the dim light of the room illuminated by moonlight. 

Sitting back to reposition, he took the opportunity to watch himself disappear. A lick of his lips and you were certain he liked what he saw. Your breast bounced with every beat. Muscles milking him for every sensation, and every stroke that drove you both closer to the peak of climax. He'd gone so deep that your stomach felt the insertion when he sat your legs over his shoulders.

It had to be several minutes before an organism was fast approaching for him like the start of a raging fire to forest trees. You could always tell by that one single twitch of his length. Only this time, Franklin didn’t have an opportunity to warn you. Usually he would prepare you for his release, but tonight was different. Everything felt different. He gripped at your leg for a brief second before toppling over you and bringing you closer by cupping the lower part of your back so that you were partially off the bed, changing the position of your bodies yet again. You breathed into his neck. He held on for dear life and with this deep grunt, let himself go. That anguish you were so familiar with. It expressed itself in a warmness that filled you up and you lowered your head to catch a glimpse of his face.

God, did it look like a work of the most beautiful art when he climaxed. 

His eyes were shut tightly and his shoulders shook. You were lowered back down on the mattress with the little strength he had left before his body all the way collapsed. You took his weight and hung on to him. Franklin buried his face into the crook of your neck. He stayed there between your legs, and you lifted your head to plant one gentle kiss on his shoulder, and he shifted to kiss your forehead. 

Your bodies were heated, sweating, and both of you were struggling to catch your breath. 

Slowly, Franklin opened his eyes and looked at you with a clouded gaze. This tender look of longing. 

While your brown hues searched for answers with little to no success, you took one of your hands to rest it at the side of his cheek, feeling the smoothness with the pad of your thumb. 

“What baby?” 

“Imma make it right. When we wake up tomorrow, it’s your day.”

“My day?” Rarely had anything ever been made entirely about you. A little smile crept up on your lips. You could imagine Franklin waking up early to cook breakfast, messing up your kitchen in the process, but the effort he put into it would be cute, whether or not it tasted the best. He never cooked. So you had no opportunity to judge his skills. Now cooking, that happened to be your specialty, and although you didn't mind and most of the time enjoyed doing so, someone cooking for you would be a nice change. 

“I’d like that,” you said almost in a whisper, making a path over his chest with a single finger, careful not to disturb or cause any unpleasantness to his gunshot wound. 

As gently as he could, Franklin pulled out and readjusted your bodies so your back was lying against his chest. He wanted to hold you. You knew this because you often found yourself in this position. Spooning, they called it. You liked it. His hands moved around your waist and his head came to rest on your shoulder. 

“Mhm. No beeper. No Peaches. Nothin' ta do wit’ bidness. Just you and me.”

The two of you laid there, and eventually time carried on into the late hours of the night with the promise of sunrise.  

From the edge of sleep, you heard Franklin whisper something as he adjusted his arm so it wrapped around more completely. 

“...You deserve the fuckin’ world. I'm gonna give it to you...”

With a lean into his chest, breathing deeply in his scent of faded soap and sex, you shook your head so gently, it barely caused him to stir. 

“Don’t want the world…” you breathed. “Just you…” 

……………………………………………………………….

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr

Writers Note: So FYI this was the first writing for the Snowfall fandom that I wrote. I started off with an original black OC but after jumping into my second story and getting more comfortable with 2nd Person Perspective, I decided to do a revision to this. What did I do? I changed the OC to You and made it a one shot! I would like to thank everyone who supported the original idea I had and I hope you like what I've done with the turn around. Thank you for the love and support. Until next time, happy readings. 💙

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING. -Wide Nose And Wonderful /Mrs. Saint Writes.