Ship: Allison X Perry - Tumblr Posts
She's not sure how it's come down to this - the two of them standing in the long abandoned drugstore, guns aimed at each other, both seconds away from being the one to pull the trigger. But the sound just outside the door has her hesitating. Infected, more than she'd like to deal with on her own from the sound of it. And she knows he can hear it too. She can see his eyes darting between her and the door. If she wasn't worried he'd pull the trigger on instinct, she might consider making her move while he's trying to assess the growing problem out front. But she wants to live to see tomorrow. And something tells her he feels the same.
Her voice is low, a mumble just loud enough for him to hear but not enough to attract much attention from what's on the other side of the old glass. "Look, either you kill me now and deal with those fuckers outside by your lonesome. Or we deal with it together and live to kill each other a day. So what's it gonna be?"
Her eyes track his every micro expression. The way his jaw clenches, practically able to hear him grinding his teeth. His finger's still on the trigger but there seems to be a hesitancy towards her that wasn't there a minute ago. Nostrils flare as he breathes out a long, frustrated breath before the quick jerk of a nod. "Fine. But just remember if you change your mind and shoot me, better make sure it's a good one. If it's not, I'll find you and kill you with my bare hands."
"Back at ya, big guy," is all she says in response, swinging her aim towards the door that's started to rattle when he does and braces herself for what's to come.
ARSONIST'S LULLABYE | a canon-divergent fanfic based on HBO's The Last of Us. Coming soon...
TITLE: Arsonist's Lullabye FANDOM: HBO's The Last of Us RATING: Mature (for violence and strong language) SHIP: Perry/OFC TAGGING: canon divergent, enemies to lovers, post apocalypse, canon-typical violence, more to come SUMMARY: Allison never wanted to come through Kansas City. Perry never wanted to have an outsider shooting his men. And neither of them wanted to rely on each other to survive. But you don't tend to get what you want when living twenty years after the collapse of polite society.
CHAPTER ONE
If it had been up to Allison, they never would have set foot in Kansas City. Something about the city had set her on edge even from a distance. She’d seen what happened when a QZ fell. She’d experienced the immediate effects and seen the aftershocks. And none of it had ever been any good. But the group had established early on that this was a democracy, not a dictatorship. And when they’d blown a tire half a mile outside the city and been forced out of the van that had been held together with duct tape and desperation for a hundred miles too long, she had been outvoted. The prospect of reaching some kind of shelter before nightfall was a greater possibility than whatever negatives she threw into the conversation. So she’d bit her tongue and took the lead as they started the trek into the city.
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reader taglist: @deadbranch @callsign-bee
"whatever souls are made of, his and mine are the same." emily bronte, wuthering heights
allison harlow + nathaniel perry | arsonist's lullabye | the last of us
"You are damaged and broken and unhinged. But so are shooting stars and comets." - Nikita Gill
am i supposed to be grateful to have survived this? || brenna twohy
"We gotta - Mason - Mace! We gotta go NOW!"
The door shakes on its hinges, wood creaking as bodies push against it. Glass breaks in the back room, screeching starting to come from down the hall. She scrambles, trying to shove anything she can into the pack and wondering which way to go. He's just standing there, shaking in his spot as he stares at the door. She grabs his arm, trying to pull, trying to get him to snap out of it, to realize that they can't stay.
"Mason, please, I need you to move."
"Allison."
She pulls, pulls hard and almost falls when his weight hits her, still catatonic and unmoving otherwise.
"Mason!"
"Allison, you gotta-"
"MASON!"
"Wake up!"
Her knuckles were almost white, the grip on the knife almost painful as Allison jerked up. The movement was instinctual, a reflex from too many night's spent with one eye open. If it was anyone else, they probably would've wound up with the blade deep in whatever piece of flesh was closest. Perry's reflexes were faster than most, thank god. He caught her arm before she could make contact, his face a mask of calm as if this were just par for the course for him. And if there was a hint of concern in his eyes it was gone before she could be certain. The lantern flickered in the corner, providing just enough light in the dusty room for them to see each other, enough light for her to see her own shadow as it shook with adrenaline.
"You were having a nightmare," was all he said, his voice low and almost drowned out by the sound of her labored breathing. He kept hold of her arm, the grip almost bruising until she let the knife fall to the floor between them. "Started making too much noise. Didn't want it attracting any attention if there's infected outside."
"Sorry," she mumbled, scooting back once she was free from his grasp and running a hand roughly through her hair. She could feel the back of her shirt sticking to her skin, cold sweat clinging to her along with the remnants of her nightmare. He just nodded, not asking any questions or wanting any explanations. For that she was grateful. "Go ahead and sleep. I'll - I'll take over watch."
He watched her for a moment, those wheels in his mind turning so obviously that for a moment she thought he might argue. But the moment passed and he gave another nod, standing up and moving back to the sleeping bag he had laid out across the room. By the time he was laying down, his own gun next to him on the floor, her breathing had started to even out. She knew exhaustion would hit her soon but for now her heart was still racing and sleep wouldn't be her friend any time soon.
the voice on the radio | arsonist's lullabye
the voice on the radio | arsonist's lullabye