school girl jealousy.
pairings. ben parish x fem!reader
about. there's something clearly off with you and it's killing zombie that you won't tell him what.
warnings. cursing. plot line primarily based on the books (specifically infinite sea). mentions of nsfw. some things might not make sense because I just assume people know what I know—so, to preface, ringer leaves to find new shelter, during which teacup follows after her unknowingly to everyone else, which then causes pound cake to follow to try to retrieve her, everything else should be basic knowledge? reader’s squad name is also “six”. gif not mine.
ricky speaks! this might be a niche character but no one loves nick robinson like I love nick robinson.
it's cold.
that is the first thing that strikes you, like always, when you feel your body wake.
it's the early hours of twilight, the sky still dark and therefore so was the room. you shift to your other side, no longer facing the wall but rather the rest of the room where you can see the slight lining of cassie sullivan keeping watch from the window, and ringer, who begins to pull on her boots from the bed beside you.
right. you think. she's leaving.
it had been a month since squad 53 had escaped camp haven and found hotel walker. a bitter month that got colder and colder as days went on and ventured further into the early months of winter.
and as much as you were enjoying your stay at hotel walker, your time was running out. it was only getting colder and only a matter of time before the others found you.
which lead you to now… ringer leaving, teacup crying, and cassie counting her blessings all because of it. someone had to find somewhere new, and no better person than for squad 53’s best solider to do it.
you try your best to ignore the small, but obvious commotion around you, trying to soak up as much sleep as you could before you became hyperaware of the frigid air holding you.
cassie and ringer make it hard.
"why 'six'? I'm starting to feel left out not having a silly name."
silly name.
they're both calm. something incredibly unusual when they're around one another. if anyone has had a hard time digesting ringers dry personality, it was cassie.
because of this, it was always a headache whenever they were around each other, especially when zombie played mediator. he always tried his best, he couldn't help it. he never lost himself after the waves, that was always evident. and now that cassie was around, it made pre-zombie stronger.
you hated it.
"six feet deep," ringer says simply, the same wry expression like always, intentional or not. you can feel them look at one another for a long time, even if you can't see it. then finally, there's a shift in the carpet from pressure, and you know ringer leaves.
**
"you just missed ringer."
zombie stands at the bottom of the stairs, tightly wrapped in winter gear that makes him look like a marshmallow. he almost looks as if he's longing, his eyes switching between you and the vast landscape of wasteland that laid outside the hotel. but that same look could also be coming from the scarlet fever slowly, but surely poisoning him.
"don't worry," you mumble, zipping up the black puffer coat you had pulled off a dead body the first week you had all gotten there. "I got one last sight of her."
"her and cassie get into it this morning?"
"something like that," you come to stand next to him now, gazing out to where he does. "quite the girlfriends you have."
he narrows his brows at this comment, confused, "what?"
god, you were already starting, weren't you.
he’s now entirely focused on you, fast, his face dropping into something of concern once he gets a good look at your face, “what does that mean?”
you clench your jaw, not daring to look at him, and when you continue on with your unmoving posture, he speaks again.
"six."
you look up, immediately dropping your mood off into something deeper yourself upon seeing his face. annoyance maybe. annoyance because he was so quick to catch onto you.
he knew you so well.
"what's wrong?"
"nothing," you resist the urge to roll your eyes, already turning on your heel in order to escape this oncoming uncomfortable situation. you hate how good he was at that: figuring you out.
he catches your wrist, "not nothing. c'mon. you remember me?"
he’s sweet. god, why did he have to be so sweet?
“you remember that pact we had?”
i got your back, you got mine.
"you're dying zombie. again,” you give him a forward look, as if lecturing him. “we got bigger fish to fry than what is wrong with me. i’m fine."
he cracks a smile at your analogy, but once your hand goes lax and you pull it from his grasp, he drops it. he watches you, carefully, bothered, itching in his skin at your cold exterior. this was unlike you.
every since the first night of hotel walker you were unlike you.
you turn on your heel, "I'm going for a walk."
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
he's frowning. this is upsetting him more than you know.
“yeah, what do you know,” you mumble, but quickly catch yourself, wincing. you know he hears it, and you know he won’t let it slide this time.
“I can’t let you leave, soldier.”
yikes.
he’s stern and his tone is hollow. captain zombie voice.
you turn in defiance, despite knowing you’re wrong and you’re really pushing it by not dropping this and listening, “bite me, zombie.”
you turn back around.
“when you get shot down out there soldier, I hope you remember this,” he calls out at you, still stern, no harsh intentions, but truthful, still trying to be your captain. "you go out there and I won't be able to have your back."
i won’t be able to protect you.
"I don't need you to protect me, zombie."
**
zombie's words are repetitive in your mind as you trekked through the woods behind hotel walker. you were very aware of how foolish it was to leave alone; how foolish it was to just leave in general.
after camp haven reaching it's demise, all of you were left in pretty rough shape. with half of your squad being dead and the other half being pretty beat up, you were in no position to just leave for a little walk. that put both you and your squad at risk of being exposed to the others.
you were being selfish.
but you still persisted, being as stubborn and self-destructive as you were, you still walked out that rickety old building not looking back.
you were never like this.
well, not always anyways.
when you were first deemed member of squad 53, you were notorious for your nasty attitude. but once you became familiar with every other member of squad 53, you couldn't help crack that demeanor.
once you became familiar with zombie.
zombie and that stupid pact.
"I want you to have my back. I want to have your back."
"yeah that's funny zombie. what could I possibly do for you," you're both sliding down the lunch line of the cafeteria hall, conversating amongst yourselves--well more of zombie trapping you to where you couldn't run.
"they respect you."
you scoff at this, "I wouldn't go as far as that."
"alright, six. I respect you," he corrects, trying to catch your eyes. "and if we want to get the hell out of here, we're going to need a lot more than just me. you know half of them don't listen to me."
you finally turn to look at him, "and what makes you think they'll listen to me? what’s making me your cap 2.0 gonna do?"
"I don't want to make you into anything, six," he's frustrated now. "I don't need you to do anything. I just want to know you're on my side."
and you were. you were always on zombie's side.
it was hard not to like zombie. you could tell what he was like before, and that he hadn’t changed much since.
he was soft and sweet and compassionate. it made you sick.
but still despite that, you liked zombie, a lot.
that’s why you were so mad, as much as you didn’t want to admit.
you’re caught in your thoughts, cursing yourself for getting so deeply involved with him that you almost don’t hear it: a shift. it's quiet and quick, almost like a crack, but all enough for you to notice and register a new feeling of being watched. you freeze in your stride, tightening your grip around your rifle, just to regret making it obvious that you knew of this new presence.
you clenched your jaw, flying through all options of how to get out of this situation. there wasn't much. hell, you couldn't even think of one. you were already feeling internal doom.
goddamn you zombie, why did you always have to be right.
you needed to identify this presence, but it seemed you couldn't even do that from the way your body seemed to become suspended to the forest floor.
there's a shift again. a russel of leaves specifically, as if someone was shifting through a bush. but it was strange, this sound wasn't coming from around you, but rather above you.
you move the one thing you can: you strain your neck to look up and over your shoulder to the tree beside you. and you see exactly what you dread.
a man.
you feel everything thaw throughout you, making you quick to aim your gun toward him, firing off, but missing because he jumps from the branch he is previously perched on.
you're knocked from your feet, rifle knocked from your grasp as he lands on top of you perfectly. you feel yourself become winded on impact, and then suddenly dizzy, a pain resonating from the back of your head. however, you don't have time to process anything before the man is quick to scramble his hand over your mouth, "where's cassie?"
you frown harder, becoming even more taken aback at the sound of her name, "what?" your words are muffled, and despite the familiar name you continue to struggle against him.
"where is she? is she dead?" he's urgent, eyes wide and swallowing anything you could possibly offer with your body and expression. you wouldn’t even consider him hostile if it weren’t for the way he had you pinned down.
your brows narrowed, trying hard to zero in on what he says, but everything around you begins to feel light, "who the fuck are you?"
"I need you to answer me."
you don't stop struggling beneath him and within that effort you are able to grab a rock, further slamming it into the side of his head, not missing a beat the moment he slightly recoils off of you. you scramble as fast as you can to your rifle, but he recovers faster than you anticipate, latching onto your foot and pulling you back to him.
you try your best to resist, but he is much stronger than you. everything in this equation bodes against you. you needed to be quicker, to think faster if you wanted to get out of this alive.
you let go of the dirt and dead leaves you try to use as leverage to keep away from him, now meeting him in the middle where your feet are. you try to shake his grip off, while shoving your hand into your boot where you find your combat knife.
he had to have been disoriented, because nothing about him seemed to have processed what you were doing till the knife was sticking out of his thigh.
he grunts, recovering as fast as he can, but you already have your rifle back in hand.
**
"what did you say to her?"
"what if she doesn't come back?"
there are a thousand questions over you, and it makes zombie begin to regret not following after you even more.
"she'll come back."
but he knew better. there was no changing your mind once it was set on something, it’d almost be like challenging you if he had followed.
"and if she doesn't?" cassie pipes up amongst dumbo and nuggets rapid fire interrogation—he doesn't say anything, causing her to draw her own conclusions for the group. "if she doesn't come back, ben, then that means we have no ringer, no teacup, no poundcake, and now no six. and that puts us at an even more weak position."
ben felt dizzy thinking about her assertion, regretting his unsavory last words to you even more. he should've caught his tongue. he knew better. he was always so good about being kind and reasonable, but something about your crude demeanor and language made him hasty.
he hadn't seen you like that since you were first assigned to squad 53.
what was going on with you?
"she'll come back," was all zombie could think to say. "she's smart. I trust her out there more than any of us."
"that's because we're f tier, zombie. it doesn't take much to be better."
zombie closes his eyes tightly, hating how much it was true. all their best shooters were gone within the span of thirty minutes, but he couldn't let them know he knew that. if he showed any signs of doubt, they would begin to crumble.
zombie was the only thing holding them together.
"dumbo, I need you to man a window. she won't be gone for long, but in the meantime we need to be on our best game," the young boy nods to zombie without saying a word, exiting his room.
this leaves him, cassie, and nugget to themselves to marinate in the suffocating silence of reality. they were fucked.
"your whole squad is full of pleasant women, zombie," cassie jabs.
"she's not usually like that," he scratches the side of his head, turning to drop himself onto the bed, ignoring any maliciousness to the words.
"which one?"
"huh?"
"ringer or six?"
"six. I don't think ringer can help being like that."
"what's it mean anyways, 'six?’” he’s unsure if it’s genuine curiosity or her continuation to be snide in some way.
because of this, he has to pause, wondering if he should really tell her, questioning if it was his place to tell.
“ringer wouldn’t tell me,” cassie continues, “i understand the rest of you… kinda, but…”
he purses his lips in thought, then finally giving in.
"they found her... buried. she's the only other person I know that has survived the plague, but they didn't know that at the time."
"they threw me in the pit... you know where they burned all the bodies. I was six feet deep under bodies, and I didn't even know it... until I did I guess and I was pulled out by them," you sat knee to knee with zombie in the wash room way after lights out in the dark. "I really wonder all the time how worth it was for them to do all of that--to dig me out. there was no way I would have been alive much longer if I was just left."
"they thought she was dead. were ready to put her six feet under. did put her six feet under."
"well, I'm glad they did," zombie can't help himself, his hand coming down to clasp your kneecap in reassurance. this is something that causes you to freeze, staring at his hand hard, while simultaneously holding your breath.
you can't help but be struck dumb by his contact. which by now, you would think you'd be used to it. ever since zombie and his pact was made, many boundaries seemed to have been crossed and lines between comrade and whatever-the-fuck-you-two-were began to blur.
"I don't know if I am."
"zombie!" dumbo's loud calls echo out the hallway, disrupting any train of thought or sentence either of them had. "zombie!" he continues to yell, sounding distressed, scared even.
zombie and cassie are quick to stumble out the room and toward the call where dumbo meets them, his face red and breathless, as if he had just sprinted a marathon, "six... six... alive... but gun..."
"spit it out, bo!"
"uh-zombie," nugget tugs on zombie's sleeve, pointing to where you stand behind a man, evan walker, gun snug and pressed in the middle of his back.
zombie can't help but smile.
"I think I found your alien boyfriend, sullivan."
**
"I can't believe you stabbed him!"
"did you not hear the part where he jumped me? from a fucking tree? your boyfriend is fucking crazy, sullivan. he's lucky I didn't shoot his face off," your voice cracks into a laugh--as if you were delirious. "hell, he's lucky all I did was stab him."
"you're lucky he even let you stab him-"
"alright, let's settle down," zombie comes to stand in between the two of you. "this isn't helping anything."
after it was made certain that the strange man from the woods was evan walker, dumbo examined him, finding many things wrong with him that went beyond just a knife wound. despite this, cassie still found grounds to attack you for your rash decision.
"maybe we need a moment to breathe," zombie's hand finds your shoulder, applying slight pressure as he goes to pull you from the room. "come with me."
you go to shrug off his hand but he is persistent, keeping his hold tight as he guides you to the room next door, his room.
"you're bleeding, six."
"yeah, when's the last time you changed your bandages?" you roll your shoulders back and away from him once you're in the confines of his designated hotel room. you're avoiding his eyes, but you still feel him tower over you, wanting your undivided attention.
"not about me," he's still cornering you. "let me look."
his hands are back on you before you could think to protest. he pulls you to turn around till he has a clear sight of the back of your head, blood caked in your hair. he winces for you.
“did he hurt you?”
“no,” you mumble, but wince when he begins to search your head for the wound. “just jumped on me.”
he smiles slightly, "i’ll have bo check you out.”
“zombie, i’m fine,” you turn, grabbing his hand to stop him from continuing to invade your scalp. “just blood. you’re doing worse than me.”
he scoffs, but not offended, “this is like the common cold compared to the plague.”
you almost laugh at that; scarlet fever and a healing gun wound, almost as bad as the plague you’d say.
“so is this,” you motion to yourself. "you're not the only one who's been to hell and back."
he looks at you with pursed lips, standing back to give you space, but still persisting with a look that made him look like a concerned, and maybe even disappointed parent, "when are you going to let me help you?"
"I don't need your help."
"okay," he's slow, thinking, trying to keep himself calm. "then when are you going to tell me what's wrong?"
"zombie, get off my back," you're quick. "I don't know what you think you're seeing, but you're wrong."
"do you understand what you did earlier today?" he raises his hand out, suddenly set off by your attack on him—acting as if he didn’t know every inch of you. "do you know how lucky you are that it was walker you ran into and not a silencer? you knew it was dangerous too, it isn't just me being 'wrong.'"
"I could've handled it," you mumble, turning to walk out the door, but he's quick to stalk after you, closing the door before you can make anywhere near it. you stand there, grounded to your spot as you think with frustration clouding your brain. you inhale sharply, attempting to keep yourself under control, "zombie, let go of the door."
"not until we talk this out."
you feel your head pierce with pain for a split second causing you to wince, everything feels light and numb once again, and you aren't sure if it's because of your head or the high tension between you and zombie, "what do you want me to say, zombie?"
"I want you to tell my what's going on through your head. I want to know what's wrong."
you feel yourself crack, his persistence finally driving right through you.
"this isn't camp anymore, zombie. that's what’s wrong. we're not playing mommy and daddy anymore to the rest of the group. they're all dead now. I can't give you that and I can't give you whatever cassie sullivan gave you in high school," you're being cruel. "and you know it, but you're still chasing it."
silence. and then another strike of pain through your skull.
he looks at you, more puzzled than anything. in a situation he should've been infuriated, he was more concerned about you. his mouth was slightly gaped, shocked, then brows furrowed as he thinks, but his eyes still stayed soft.
"six..."
"can I leave now?" you're itching in your skin, the pain in your head now becoming heavy.
"no," he shakes his head, seemingly still lost. "this is what's wrong? you think I'm just looking for cassie in you?"
you don't say anything, unsure of whether if it was truly as ridiculous as he made it sound.
"what do you think the first night here was, me using you?"
your face goes flush, hot, at the thought. images of naked zombie and naked you pressed against one another. soft and gentle. hot. heat you have been chasing the past month as days have gotten more and more frigid.
your head feels light, everything growing spacey, "I don't want to talk about this right now."
"too bad, we can't stop now."
"we're going to have to," you walk away from him, your hand finding your forehead as you venture deeper into his room. his presence was beginning to suffocate you. everything in your body was growing hot and prickly. your head no longer hurts, but rather doesn't feel real at all.
he follows you, speaking. things you can't hear. things that are incoherent and just distant noise. you breathe, trying your best to track it, until you can't.
until your body drops.
**
it's cold again.
your head throbs and suddenly you begin to feel immense guilt, yet you're not sure what for.
"she's awake," a light, childish voice calls, sounding sharp and painful in your ears. you wince, clenching your teeth tightly together till a small face comes into your vision: nugget. “i’ll get zombie, six. don’t worry.”
you groan, but quickly subside any irritation that rings through your head, “wait, nugget, no.”
but he’s already gone.
you really didn’t want to see zombie. it was as if within the ten minutes you were probably knocked out, you were given clarity to the real piece of shit you had been in the past month. especially to zombie.
you sit up.
everything’s the same. you had almost hoped this was just a bad dream. all of it. that you hadn’t been stuck in an icy desolation for the past month. that you weren’t being hunted. that aliens weren’t real. and that you weren’t suffering from teenage jealousy in the middle of the damn apocalypse.
zombie finally walks in, thankfully not alone. dumbo trots behind him anxiously like a dog. he sits at the edge of the bed you lay in, his bed that you lay in, his face unwavering with no specific expression. you're unsure if he's mad, anxious, or frustrated. this was the first time you couldn't read zombie.
the two of you hold eye contact till you realize dumbo stands beside you, seemingly waiting for this tension between the two of you to resolve. it doesn’t. he coughs awkwardly, "you have a concussion, six," you don't say anything, so he continues, the tips of his fingers pressing lightly where tenderness of your head is. "I'm not sure if you hit your head on a rock when he jumped you, but he is a pretty big guy, I'm sure his body weight alone was enough."
"I'll try to examine you later," he mumbles, drawing out, awkwardly, like he was waiting for zombie to dismiss him. "just maybe... rest... don't... like... stress out too much... for now."
he's timid, then walking out fast when no one else speaks.
"look, if you're going to say 'told you so', let's get it over now rather than later," you can't hold his gaze anymore.
it's silent. you almost wonder if he's still even there, until there's a shift in the bed and he's no longer far at the edge, but rather sitting right next to you.
"I told you so," he mumbles lowly, but you practically feel the words from his breath with how close he is to your face. you know he doesn't mean it and he's only being sarcastic. "I'll spare you the details of cassie's excitement over her boyfriend getting some jab on you," his hand is near your face all of a sudden, fingers lacing into your hair to pull from your face.
you feel your body begin to light on fire.
"'ha ha,'" you murmur, still barely able to look at him.
his hand drops and he's waiting, "six, I like you. a lot. I care about you. a lot. i thought you knew that.”
“zombie i do know that-“
“why are you so worried about cassie then?”
“i don’t know, zombie,” you huff, a thick feeling of emotion and tension building up into your chest. “you knew cassie before, you-“
“I barely knew cassie in high school,” he’s quick to correct you. not mean, not rude, but almost as if to be reassuring. “anything you think we had, we didn’t. that’s not something you need to worry about.”
you meet his eyes finally. he had a sharp look on his face as if frustrated with you questioning his commitment to you. you can’t help but bite down a smile from how sweet it was.
“besides, i think she’s much more infatuated with her alien boyfriend than she ever was with me,” he scratches the side of his head, seemingly moving on upon seeing your face brighten up a bit. “are you gonna be nice now?”
“depends,” you mumble, still holding back that smile. “how good is our pact at the moment?”
“pretty damn good,” he speaks, amusement riddled within his voice.
“good,” you finally allow yourself to smile. “because there’s a guy out there that deserves a little more than a knife wound for this pounding headache i have.”
he grins, practically throwing himself on top of you with his hands around your waist and head snaked into the crook of your neck, “there’s my six.”
“yeah, yeah,” but you can’t help but return the embrace, that feeling of warmth finally returning.
