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piratesfromspace · 5 months

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Just Like Old Times (Price x Reader + poly141)

Pairing: Reader x Price (& Reader x 141) Rated: Mature Word count: 2.9k Summary: A cottage in the snow. A Captain you knew in another life. His rugged and attractive men. Will you let them into your life? Note: This is a fic I wrote for @literatecowboy for the Secret Santa event organized by @bunnyreaper! I tried to make something soft and sweet and it's taking place during the winter, it's not smutty but if you like it, I can make a part 2 with some action 👀

EDIT: we have a PART 2!!

Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, a little bit of angst but it’s mainly fluff, smoking, flirting, praise kink, sharing body heat

MASTERLIST // PART 2

It had been Laswell’s idea.

The team needs to be ready for snow conditions, do whatever you think is best. You have 3 weeks. And I’m talking extreme weather, Price, not a little trip to your local ski resort.

Those had been the instructions Kate had delivered to an unphased Price.

He knew it was only a matter of time before this kind of mission would be required from them. Of course, the men of the 141 have already trained in the cold of England, have seen and tested the winter gear. But Laswell is about to send them somewhere at the very East of Europe, and there is a small difference between surviving winter in London and surviving winter in places where the cold could kill you in minutes if you didn't have the proper equipment or knowledge. Over there, more than usual, tiny mistakes could have big consequences. And Price would rather not have his team freeze to death because of a lack of training.

It’s December and the month is cold already. But it’s nothing compared to the cold Soap feels when he steps out of the helicopter. It’s like Price has picked the coldest place he knows in America. He’s pretty sure they are somewhere in Wyoming or Montana, the only thing he can see are mountains all around them. Spruce and fir trees sprawl in dark patches contrasting with the stark white of the snow covering everything. He crosses the large glade to reach the tree line, as the helicopter takes off, sending the fresh snow flying in every direction. The sky is a light gray, and while the whole scene is stunning - makes his head spin with equal awe and wonder thinking about nature’s force and brutal beauty - it means there is no sun to warm his face.

“Come on soldiers, let’s move, we still have a two-hour hike to reach our B&B!”

“You mean someone will be there to make us breakfast Captain?” Soap chimes, unbridled joy coming through his voice at the prospect of warm home-made meals instead of MREs.

Price has a hard time hiding a smile as he starts walking on the thin winding path, only recognisable for those who know it’s there. ”There will be someone, but I’m not sure they will cook for you, Sergeant.”

Ghost lets out a dry chuckle and follows the steps of their Captain, leaving Soap and Gaz a bit puzzled.

❄️

The sun is already setting when you hear loud voices outside, and soon after a series of knocks on your door. You’re a little stressed when you rise from the floor in front of your fireplace to go open the door. You have agreed to shelter those 4 soldiers for 3 entire weeks only as a favor to Price. An old acquaintance who saved your life, a decade earlier, before you left the field to heal your wounds - body and mind. The large wood cabin had been your home for a few years already. You keep it open for women like you, in need of time away from the world, although it’s pretty rare they come during winter time when the road is blocked by snow. It’s an old building, but well-kept and you made it as cozy as possible, all warm natural tones, plush carpets on dark wood floors, dark gray stones in the bathrooms.

You welcome them with a soft smile, delighting in their surprise - seems like John had not told them he planned on using your cottage as a back-up base for this training expedition. John’s team members are not really what you expected: there is one Scott with a mohawk that seems simultaneously annoyed and happy to be there (he has terrific blue eyes), a young and calm brown-haired Brit (he’s really cute, like movie-star cute), and a behemoth with a literal skull mask (his size alone has your head spinning). You can’t complain about them though, as they are polite and friendly, praising your home - and for sure taking in the comfort and warmth one last time before heading off for days of rudimental camping in the icy woods. You don’t envy them, remembering that one mission you did in Siberia when you were still in active duty, that wasn’t really fun. They settle in their rooms easily and you all share a quick dinner you had cooked - except for the masked giant. The banter goes fast between them, especially after you offer them beers. You like being alone, but you have to admit they are fun to be around.

❄️

The living room is silent and dark, the only light coming from the fireplace across your couch. After dinner, you had trouble finding sleep in your room, so you went to read a bit in front of the fire. But you must have dozed off, because you wake up suddenly, gasping, arms flailing, sitting up immediately. Your frantic eyes, wide open, scan the room for the reason of your awakening, survival instinct going overdrive. Someone is standing in your living room, frozen in place on their way to the front door. It’s the behemoth with the skull mask - the scariest of them all, of course.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” he apologizes. In the darkness of the room, it looks like his jaw is not even moving beneath the dark fabric covering the lower half of his face, like the sound just pours out of him or like he’s speaking directly inside your head. He might actually, you’re not entirely convinced the giant is not some sort of supernatural being John brought back from a cursed battlefield. It’s unnerving to say the least.

“I’m sorry, it- it happens sometimes, I can’t help it, my instinct thought you were a threat…” you blurt out before realizing you may have offended him in some way by implying he’s not worthy of your trust. But instead of scoffing, he lets out a thoughtful hum, lowering his head to look at his boots, almost sheepish.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” His voice is low, calm, and at the same time you can feel something else, sadness, maybe disappointment, in what or who, you’re not sure.

“Care for a smoke?” he offers after a beat of silence, nodding to the front door. You don’t smoke anymore, cut the nasty habit years ago. That’s why you don’t know what compels you to accept, but you’re not gonna be able to sleep now, so you follow him outside, grabbing your coat on the way.

You half expect him to smoke through the mask, but he pushes the fabric up enough to reveal a strong jaw covered in light stubble, and plush lips. So he’s human after all. The slick and heavy storm lighter looks ridiculously small in his giant hand when he lights his cigarette. He takes a deep puff before handing it to you.

“Sorry, last one.”

Your fingers graze his, and you bring it to your lips to drag a small puff that immediately makes you cough.

“You ok?” he rasps, humor tilting the corner of his mouth upwards.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, that’s all” you provide. He hums in approval at your explanation.

When you hand him the cigarette, you take a moment to look at his mouth, the way his throat works when he inhales, the way the silver smoke dances between his open lips and fades into the night sky. Something warms your gut when you realize his lips are set just where yours had been a few seconds ago.

You don’t know what’s more attractive, this or the fact he doesn’t try to make conversation for the sake of it. He doesn’t bother to explain why he couldn’t sleep and felt the need to smoke at 3 in the morning. He knows you understand. You are just glad to bask in the soft noises of nature at night - wind in the threes, the hooting of an owl. Fuck, you’ve been alone up there for too long to thirst on John’s colleagues just like this, just a few hours after their arrival. You shake your head, driving out the thought, and take the cigarette again from his fingers.

❄️

The next morning, you wake up pretty early after a short night, only to find one of them - the pretty one, Gaz - is already fixing coffee in your kitchen like he belongs there. You honestly could get used to this. The thin long sleeves of his shirt are doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath, rolling as he’s going about this mundane task of preparing breakfast. His kind eyes and soft voice when he asks for your choice of eggs makes your heart flutter with a yearning for this kind of intimate domesticity you had never really allowed yourself up until then. It’s kinda concerning, at this rate you’re gonna ask one - all? - of them to stay with you in your cottage instead of going back to whatever missions at the other end of the world.

The rest of the day is not making you change your mind. Price had asked if anything needed their help around the house, and you gave them the tedious task of moving the gigantic pile of wood logs stocked at the other end of your garden closer to the house. It would have taken you days to do it by yourself. But by lunch time, the pile had dwindled to a fifth of what it was thanks to the hard work of the four men. The two younger ones were down to their long-sleeve compression shirts despite the cold, sleeves rolled up their elbows, showing off strong forearms, various scars slashing across the discreet swirls of black ink from old tattoos. Some disappear under the black gloves they are all sporting. Sweat plasters the fabric of their shirts to their shoulders and chests. You can’t deny they look fucking good.

You had accepted Price’s demand without much after-thought, but now you couldn’t be more happy about it, ogling those four rugged men laboring away for you. Despite being older than his men, Price is far from looking bad. He’s built like a brick house, a healthy layer of fat covering muscles he’s been honing for two decades. Dark hair peaks from the open collar of his jacket, your eyes follow the line of the thin garment which is hugging his tapered waist, down to his thick thighs. Fuck. You remember what it was like to be close to him - literally and figuratively. He was your colleague, an equal, a couple years older than you but you shared the same rank. He was a mentor, a friend, a lover - only briefly, after that fateful mission where he saved your life on the field. You parted ways in good spirit after you announced that you wanted to retire, needed to get your head straight before committing to anything. Today, you ask yourself if maybe you could take this back from where you left it.

❄️

You want to train with us today, love? Just like old times.

Price had asked you the question the next morning and you had not been hard to convince. It was more about being able to look at them than to train your body, but they didn’t need to know that. Even if you keep a pretty healthy lifestyle, you can’t compete with elite soldiers, and by the fourth set of push-ups, your arms are giving out. You’re about to stop and reach for your water bottle, when Price notices.

“Come on, you can do five more, I’m sure!”

You groan in response, but you go back in position.

“Breathe, love. Back a little more straight. Elbows in. That’s it… Good.”

Price’s deep voice is calm as he’s encouraging you, gently correcting your posture.

“Don’t look down, chin up. Perfect, you’re doing good.” he goes on, and you cheeks warm under his praise, enough to make you forget the stinging cold. Your whole body is clenched with the effort, you’re letting out little cries with each push-up, your muscles are hurting, but you want nothing more than to make the captain proud.

“Just one more. Done! You did great darling, I’m impressed.”

He helps you get up on shaking legs and when you almost stumble, he secures you upright against his chest, keeps you there for two seconds more than he should for it to not look intentional. When you raise your head, you’re suddenly so close to his face, blue eyes staring down at you with a glint in them you can’t ignore. You reluctantly part before reaching for your water bottle again, playing coy.

The three others are not oblivious to the little game between you and Price. You notice how they exchange knowing looks and little smiles whenever you both interact. Worst, they also seem to pick up on your love for being praised and soon enough they take every excuse to whisper how good your aim still is during target training, or how smart you are for knowing everything about the local fauna during your afternoon hike. It never sounds like they’re mocking you though, never feels like it’s not genuine. It’s not fair, really. At this rate, you don’t know how you’re gonna survive living under the same roof with four attractive men for three entire weeks.

The answer to this torture of yours is revealed quickly. After a few days of acclimatization at your cottage, Price and his men are ready for a long expedition higher in the mountains, with just tents and even a short surviving-in-extreme-cold workshop. They will be gone for at least ten days. You watch them pack their gear and leave your place with a pinch in your heart you couldn’t expect when you first opened your door to them.

❄️

Days go by, pretty uneventful, until your heating system breaks down. It’s not the first time since you’re leaving up there, it’s not that scary but you’ll have to wait a few days for the repair team to come by. In the meantime, you resort to live and sleep in your living room, where the fireplace provides enough heat to keep you warm in the heart of the winter.

They come back the day after that, and when you see their silhouettes emerging from the treeline, just before the sun sets down, you can’t prevent your lips to form a smile so big it hurts your cheeks after a couple minutes standing in the biting cold.

The fondness in Price’s eyes is not dulled by the news your heater is out of order, nor is the relief on Soap’s and Gaz’s faces at the promise of a solid roof and comfy beds after days of rudimentary accommodations.

You all work to prepare some food, and to bring a couple mattresses with all the duvets you can find in front of the fireplace - the only sane solution for you all to sleep without suffering too much from the freezing temperatures. It reminds you of your years of service, when you sometimes had to share a single room with your whole squad - you’re not missing the stress and the harsh living conditions, but you’re definitely missing the camaraderie, the jokes and fits of laughter, the bodies of trusted people around you.

They leave you the couch - gentlemen that they are - the objectively most comfortable option, but once again you can’t find sleep. The piece of furniture is the farthest away from the fire, and you’re on your own, no one next to you to share body heat with you.

It’s only because I’m cold. That’s the poor excuse you give yourself - and the one you whisper to Price - when you step down from your couch to seek a place under the cover next to John. He’s sleeping next to Gaz; Soap and Ghost are sharing the other mattress. You slide yourself against him, immediately melting into his chest, the man radiating heat like it’s his only purpose in life. He doesn’t even have to ask you if it’s okay to hold you against him because you plaster yourself to him and nuzzle against his chest, old habits taking over your sleepy brain. A sense of safety and comfort envelopes you at the same time his warmth does. You forgot how good it felt to be in his embrace, to be tucked against his broad chest, surrounded by his smell - manly, ambery wood, and the rich spice of his cigars.

He chuckles silently as you settle at his side and let out a little content sigh. He missed that too, he won’t say it out loud, but having you like this, soft and pliant in his arms, it makes him wonder how he could be such a fool for not seeking you sooner. He suddenly wants to kiss you, to make you feel good, here and now, no matter the fact his men are sleeping just a few inches from you. Should he care? He’s not blind to the fact you spend a good amount of time leering at them since they’re here, and to the fact they are watching you back. He can not ignore the shameless flirting going on between all of you five actually. John has never really been in a situation like this, doesn’t know where this will lead him - where this could lead them. But he’s ready to follow you. He takes a deep breath before he talks.

“Just like old times?” He asks, voice low, chest vibrating with it under your palm.

Just like old times… The words echo in your head, echo in your heart. He gives you the opportunity to lead him - to lead them - wherever you wish.

“Just like old times.” You repeat back to him, before you capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

PART 2

#cod fanfiction #captain price x reader #polyamory #poly tf141 #poly 141 #price x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x soap #cod mw2 #cod modern warfare #call of duty fanfic #winter fics

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heartpascal · 1 year

Note

can we get more father figure joel? You know when Ellie killed the David, and then Joel comforted her? Maybe that but instead of Ellie it’s the reader, thank you <3

i am good

▹ joel miller x platonic!f!reader

▹ — summary: joel finally sees the darkness in himself reflected in you.

▹ — a/n: ok first request i hope it’s ok!! i know its kinda similar to the game but erm. its reader and joel this time!! and reader is much much less ok with the whole. murder thing but its ok bc joel is there to fix it <3 yes he is your dad no you don’t get a choice he has decided it

▹ — warnings: allusions to sexual assault (nothing happens but the intention was there), vivid descriptions of murder, reader is misled and attacked, similar to the game with ellie (so kinda spoilers?), joel is ready to kill for you (and does), lots of blood, tears, father figure joel, lots of angst and upset, vomiting

masterlist

∘₊✧───── ───── ───── ─────✧₊∘

Getting air into your lungs was proving to be one of the hardest things you’d had to do for a long time, which, considering the journey you’d been on, was shocking. The act of simply breathing should have come easily to you, but it didn’t. It couldn’t. Not as you saw the reflection of your own bloodied face in the knife that was held up, a clear threat polluting the air.

You knew you had probably been lucky to even make it as far as you had — born into a world full of death and chaos and infection, you were bound to meet your gruesome end some day, but you didn’t want to die.

For the first time in a long time, your chest ached for the breath you couldn’t seem to provide, the want, the need to live almost suffocating you on its own. You had someone now, someone who cared whether you survived or not, who felt like you deserved even a glimpse at a happy ending, even if he didn’t like to state those things out loud.

Resentment was growing in your stomach, filling you with the need to be sick. Why did you always have to listen to the words Joel didn’t say, rather than the ones he did say? If you had just listened, conserved your trust for those who actually earned it, you wouldn’t be in this situation.

When your hunting escapades had led you into a small horde of infected, you had just blindly put your faith in the aging couple who came to your aid, not thinking of what they might want for their troubles. You’d never had to escape without Joel’s help before, and you quickly discovered you weren’t all that good at it.

The two of them had dragged you back to their nearby settlement which they shared with a couple dozen others, all whilst you were kicking and screaming, trying to get away, your resolve fading each time they hit you to near unconsciousness. When they passed by a young man stood beside an older lady, you had called out to them, “Please, help me, please.”

“Gotta get something in return for the gear we wasted saving her ass,” the man had snickered to the two of them as glanced at the couple, just nodding at his words before turning back to their conversation.

You’d been knocked out when they approached a large community house, just getting a glimpse of the carpeted floor before the woman had struck her gun against the side of your head.

You had woken up in the middle of a chilled room, your arms straining with effort as you pushed yourself to sit up, seeing the woman holding a knife towards you. You couldn’t be sure how long it had been since they’d taken you, not with the way your stomach clenched with pain. The whole reason you’d been out there was to solve that, but you were sure that it had gotten worse.

“Listen, please,” your scratchy voice came out, much quieter than you had meant for it to be, “I—I can get you replacements for everything you used, but you gotta let me go.”

“We don’t gotta do anything, girl.” The lady snickered, as if even you saying such a thing was amusing. It made you feel small, powerless.

She got up, hearing her name being called, Cheryl, you noted, and sneered at you. Her skin was dull, and she looked vaguely ill, but that didn’t change anything about her threatening demeanour. At least one thing you’d taken from travelling with Joel was never underestimate your opponent, no matter how small, or ill, or kind they may appear to be.

Her hand grazed your face as she strode past, “Yeah,” she said quietly, like she was complimenting you, “You’ll do nicely. We’ll both enjoy you.”

You managed to avoid throwing up until she left the room, hearing a lock click into place. All that came up was bile, the clench of your stomach just becoming sharper afterwards. Your muscles felt weak, likely beginning to waste away with you having been inactive for a little while and injured, less energy wasted on muscle cells and more going into fighting off the infections that were likely trying to poison your blood.

Scanning the room, like Joel would’ve advised you to, you found nothing of much use to you. An old rickety chair, perhaps, but that would only help you if you could lift it, and you weren’t convinced you had the strength left within you, but you’d be damned if you didn’t at least try.

Something deep in your chest nagged at you, the longing for Joel, probably. He had saved you on countless occasions, and you could only hope that it had been long enough that he had finally gotten worried. It seemed likely, he really did worry a lot for a man who wasn’t meant to care, but then there was the factor of him finding you, managing to take down all the people in the settlement that might fight to protect each other and—

You took a deep breath, finally feeling your lungs expand and take in some oxygen, and pulled yourself from the ground, keeping the bile that threatened to rise down as the nausea hit you.

The chair was lighter than you expected it to be, the insides of the wooden frame likely rotten away, and you managed to pull it towards the door, waiting beside it with shallow breaths. When the lock finally began to click open, you raised the lightweight chair as high as you could, and smacked it down against the person who entered the room. Splinters flew from it as it impacted, and you heard the clatter of metal as a tray they carried hit the ground with them.

Food, maybe, to keep you alive for… whatever it was that they had planned for you, you reasoned, but didn’t look to check. Instead, you grabbed a mostly-intact leg of the chair that caused splinters to dig into your palm, and stepped over the body of the man who had taken you, exiting quickly.

Footsteps hurried you, and you ducked behind a booth as they approached the room you were being kept in. There were lanterns lit all around the room, giving it a warm look that greatly contrasted the cold air and feel it had.

“Shit!” Cheryl cursed, and you saw her bend down to check on the man from over the top of your booth. A radio crackled though the air, before, “Lewis is down, the girl’s out. Anybody got eyes?”

Your fingers shook and you gripped on to the booth to stop them, hearing the distorted reply of whoever was on the other end of the radio, “She ain’t got out, yet, she’s gotta be in there with you. You need backup?”

“No,” Cheryl replied, her cold voice sending shivers down your back, “I’ve got her.”

The drag of Lewis’ clothes against the floor made you peak your head up, seeing her drag him into the room, before she exited and locked him inside. You ducked back down, heart hammering. You couldn’t escape from them in an open forest — how would you get out of a locked down building?

“Come on out, kid. It’s okay, you just gotta start behaving yourself.” She called, her slow footsteps failing to mask the sound of her unsheathing her knife. It wasn’t okay, it was very far from okay, you would argue, and you could feel that crushing fear of death pushing down on your shoulders, your chest constricting once again.

You tried to reassure yourself — you had faced countless amounts of infected and come out on the other side, what was one woman with very bad intentions? But it didn’t make you feel better, not when it was another human, who could feel exactly what you felt.

Her footsteps approached, and you leaped from where you were in the booth, trying to run as far away from her as fast as you could, but she caught up to you with surprising ease, your muscles clearly weaker than initially thought, and she grasped the back of your shirt, pulling you to a stop as you fell to the ground.

“Get the fuck off of me!” You cried out as she knelt down, one knee beside you and another pressing against your stomach, knife approaching your throat as soon as she settled you firmly against the carpet. It was red.

“You could’ve made this real easy for all of us,” she muttered your name, and you froze, having forgotten the way you’d yelled it out to them in the midst of the battle. “Be a good girl, now.”

You heard gunfire outside, and when her face glanced toward the guarded front door, you twisted underneath her, pushing yourself away to find enough room to kick the knee against the floor out from under her. She fell, her chin hitting the ground with a satisfying crack, and when she cried out, anger overcame you.

“You were gonna hurt me,” You said aloud, almost as if it was a realisation, rather than just fact. Your eyes hardened, gaze going red as you snatched the knife from her weakened grip. She reached out to try and snatch it back, but only got the drops of your blood that fell from the blade as you held onto it, twisting it until you finally held the handle. “Why— why were you going to hurt me?”

Her response didn’t filter through your ears, and the rage at how easily she and Lewis were going to do it pulsed, making your vision go blurry. When she sat up, tumbling forward to take you down again, you swiped her own knife until you felt the drag of something resisting it, and then you pulled harder, feeling something warm gushing down your hand.

Cheryl’s breath stuttered slightly, her hands rising to her chest as she groaned in pain. You looked down to your hands, where they were coated in a red that was darker than the carpet below them, and you were so lost that you didn’t notice her hand coming below yours, hitting it so hard that the knife went flying to the other end of the carpet.

Like a reflex, your fists came down on her face, feeling the shift of bones beneath your knuckles as they shattered upon contact. You didn’t stop, too wrapped up in the fact that you didn’t want to die, that she was going to hurt you, to kill you when she was done, she was going to tear you apart and throw away the pieces, she was going to take away what little humanity had left, she—

Arms pulled you away from the body beneath you, arms much stronger than your own, and you screamed, yelled out with your broken voice, “I’ll kill you, I’ll fucking kill you, get off of me! I’ll kill you!”

The person shushed you, only holding tighter as you thrashed, turning away from Cheryl where she… wasn’t breathing. You stopped, tense muscles in your body going slack and burning as you stared at her, at her body, lifeless and covered in blood.

“Kid, it’s okay, it’s okay, I’ve got you.” said the person holding you— said Joel. Your hands dropped from where you had scratched his forearm, his arm covered in blood — though whether it was his, or Cheryl’s, or yours, you didn’t know.

He loosened his grip on you, eyebrows creased in concern as your entire body slipped when he moved his arms away, as if you couldn’t even hold yourself up.

“No… she— it wasn’t, I didn’t—” you trailed off, unsure of what to say, the words dead on your tongue, because you didn’t what? Didn't mean to kill her?

Joel followed your blank eyes to the body he’d pulled you from, and he turned your head towards him quickly, eyes hard. “No.” He said, and at your somewhat confused expression, he continued, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Joel, I—”

“No,” he repeated, and pulled your head towards him, keeping you looking away from Cheryl as a gunshot rang through the room, echoing in your ears so loudly you couldn’t hear Joel at first, as he held up the smoking gun for you to see, “—killed her, see? I killed her.”

“They were going… they wanted to—” You choked on the words, feeling that bile come creeping back up your throat, and you lurched away from Joel as it came out, feeling him pull your hair back from your face.

Something in his eyes settled, however, at the choice of word you’d used — they. So this body wasn’t the only one in here? His question was answered by a bang at a door on the other side, the way your entire body flinched at the sound.

The door splintered, and a battered man came tumbling out, hurrying over to where he could see people crowded. His face went red, and he began to shout, “You fucking bitch—!”

Joel shot one between the eyes, and the man crumpled before he could get anything else out. He turned back to you, to where you were hunched in on yourself. He shoved his gun back in its rightful place, and held your cheeks between his hands, gunpowder residue transferring to your skin.

“Do you hear me?” His muted voice said, and you looked up to his face with a confused shake of your head, “It was you or them, and the only answer is you.”

“But, Joel,” you were interrupted, and he wiped the underneath of your eye of a tear that you hadn’t even known had fallen.

“No. You listen to me, remember?” Joel affirmed, and you nodded, the tears falling more now that you’d acknowledged them, your hands shaking as you tried to look past Joel, but he just pulled your face back to him. “I’ve got you, kid. Keep your eyes on me.”

You turned your face into his neck as you all but threw yourself into his arms, and they wrapped around you like they’d been waiting to do so. You missed his pained expression at the words, and the way heartache burrowed in his chest as he stood the two of you up, his knees clicking.

He swept you up, as if you were the smallest and lightest thing he’d carried in years, and he carried you away, your eyes staying glued to him as the two of you left behind the carnage he’d caused in looking for you.

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jiminiesfavouritecolourisblue · 6 months

Text

Deadline - BTS OT7 CEO AU Chapter 15

This is what I call the fluff before the fall, there are a few events mentioned here that aren't in previous chapters but are in canon drabbles/pseudo drabbles, so I recommend you read this and this before the chapter below. 4.6k words

Hope you enjoy 💜

Prev / Next

Seven boyfriends, seven days a week, might sound like a lot for one person to handle, especially since now you were sexually active with them. It was as if you unleashed Pandora's box but instead of a plague that kills the world, it was seven sexy men that didn’t want to let you go to sleep alone.

“Min Yoongi, why are you in my bed on a weekday?” Your eyes narrow in suspicion at the man staring at the ceiling. You just walked out of the ensuite in nothing but your robe, if he thought this was easy pickings he had another thing coming.

“Relax kitten, I just wanted to talk,” he sighs, turning onto his side so he can face you, a soft but sad smile on his face that made you want to climb into bed with him and cuddle, so you did.

“You’re not here to break the rules?” you tease, arms wrapping around his middle when he embraces you. It earns you a chuckle at least.

“Because that worked out well for me last time,” he shakes his head. “You and your rules.”

“Who would’ve thought the roles would reverse huh,” you say absentmindedly, trying not to laugh.

“What do you mean?” He frowns, seemingly confused, he was never an enforcer of the ‘rules’, that was you and Namjoon.

“Well you always went against them while Joonie lived by them, and now…”

Well now Namjoon had a new lease on life, where before he would always be militant with those broad shoulders of responsibility that carried the weight of everything, now he was a lawless man, and your biggest deviant. Since that morning you were both late to your respective workplaces, the one where he ate you out for breakfast and then fucked you against the counter, the troublesome trio became the least of your problems. Now it was Namjoon that tried to keep you up late on a work night until you had to force him out of the room. Namjoon who tried to sneak into the shower with you in the mornings, pretending he was going to behave and be good, “we’ll save water baby girl” he tried one morning. Seriously, did he think you were stupid? Namjoon who wanted to hold your hand all morning before you walked out the door for work, the others yelling at him that he was hogging you, while you tried to do your morning routine one handedly (his grip was strong). But he didn’t care, the others had gotten away with more in his eyes, it was his turn.

“And now you’ve unleashed the monster in Kim Namjoon,” Yoongi finishes your thoughts for you, shaking his head before sighing, “can’t blame you too much, it was always there.”

Too many times this week he’s had to be the level headed one, he’s sure it's just a phase but it needed to end quickly or Yoongi was going to get a headache.

“It’s been a week, why is he still mad at me and not you?” Yoongi grumbles into your hair.

“I had sex with him,” you deadpan, shrugging before you bury your giggles in his chest.

“Ah this is why Jimin calls you a vixen,” he thinks aloud playfully, making you pull back to look at him in question, did he?

“Well that’s a new one…” Your arms come around his neck, looking up at him longingly, waiting for him to figure out what you wanted without asking for it.

“No it isn’t, he just calls you that behind your back, when you’re being too enticing for your own good,” he kisses your nose.

Your cheeks burn as you scoff, ‘enticing’, what was wrong with them?

“Like right now,” he calls you out, your favourite gummy smile beams endearingly at you when you gasp in mock outrage.

“I’m not doing anything right now,” you deny, ready to bicker with him.

“Hmmmmm,” his gaze changes dangerously, eyes almost mocking you, “So you’re not asking me for a kiss right now?”

You scrunch your nose, pressing your lips together to hold back a smile, dammit he could see right through you.

“No I’m not,” you shake your head, holding your head proudly. “You’re reading into things.”

“I don’t think so, Kitten,” he hums again. “I can read you perfectly.”

This time round he accepts defeat easily in your playful little squabble, lips pressed against yours and you both smile.

—

Kim Jongin was a flirt, a shy one at times, but when the women bundled around him he couldn’t help but flirt, hopeless romantic and all. You however indulged him in no such thing, and he couldn’t help wondering why. He wasn’t serious, he was playing around, everyone knew it, but you didn’t even acknowledge it.

He even called Jimin to ask him if something was wrong with you and after about a minute of silence on the other end from his friend, where he thought the line disconnected and called his name repeatedly, he got lectured for an hour. His friend and business rival went on and on about how he shouldn’t pursue you, and you were all business and professional and … well he stopped paying attention after that. But it did make him curious. It was almost a challenge, the cliche of forbidden fruit.

“Y/n you’re practically glowing today,” he says in passing, interrupting your conversation with your supervisors.

You stop speaking for a second, looking at him briefly before resuming whatever it was you were saying. Heechul hides a snicker poorly, covering it up with a cough, not even paying attention to you.

“Aren’t you going to tell me how good I look?” Jongin presses, pout on his face, his eyes drooping in faux sadness.

You almost glare at him, and he kind of likes it, the fire in your eyes. Why did Jimin warn him against you? Surely he would want to set up his friend with such a woman, or at least keep her to himself.

“Oh Director Kim you look so handsome today,” Kyunghoon says dramatically, Heechul unable to stop his laughter this time. It takes everything in you not to roll your eyes.

“Somethings wrong with Y/n if she doesn’t see how handsome our favourite director is,” Kyunghoon continues, trying to act cute. You look at him disgustedly, what a suck up, and that was coming from you, the world renowned teacher’s pet.

“I heard she went on a date with Mark and then ghosted him,” Heechul stage whispers to his boss as if it’ll win him favours. “I don’t think Y/n is good enough for our precious director.”

You lost count of how many times your eyes rolled in annoyance, it wasn’t a reflex you could help otherwise you would’ve thought twice before doing it in front of your boss and two supervisors.

“It wasn’t a date,” you grunt, frowning at the paperwork. It was bad enough your boyfriends thought the same, and you sincerely paid for that. You shudder involuntarily, skin starting to heat up as you try to push the memories of those nights out of your head since you were at work.

“Someone should’ve told Mark,” Heechul mutters under his breath to the other two.

—

“Should we sell the company?” Namjoon breaks the silence in the office with words so off-kilter that Jimin falls out of his chair. The lead CEO is practically bouncing in his seat, wanting the day to finish so he could go home and see you, maybe convince you to break some more rules.

“Who are you?” Jin asks, watching the CEO with distrust.

Kim Namjoon, selling the company he got off the ground with his bare hands? Unheard of. Impossible. Pigs would learn to fly first.

“Hyung!” Jimin whines, picking himself off the floor. “Please, come back to your senses! What’s happened to you?”

The CEO shrugs, looking at his desk as the words leave his mouth.

“I’m happy,” he grins, the others looking at him dumbfounded before they groan.

“You’d sell it and then cry,” Hoseok says, knowing his friend all too well, getting back to the papers on his desk before adding, “Sunshine would kill you.”

“If you sell the company I would never forgive you,” Jin adds. “I’m far too young to retire.”

“Plus you’re only saying this so you can spend more time with Noona right?” Jungkook continues, “but could you ever imagine Bunny giving up work?”

“You’d sit at home bored out of your mind,” Yoongi grumbles, agreeing with the maknae.

“We could always convince her,” Namjoon suggests, making the others laugh in disbelief.

“Have you met Kitten?” Yoongi grins, “the word stubborn doesn’t do her justice.”

Yoongi looks up from his desk when there’s no reply, Namjoon staring daggers at his head. Oh shit, well he walked into this one.

“You managed to convince her just fine,” he accused, making all of them groan again.

“Can we not do this again?” Jin sighs, closing his eyes, if he had this conversation again his brain would explode trying to escape it.

“Please can we let this go,” Jimin almost yells, they all had enough of the silly war Namjoon was trying to begin with Yoongi. “Jealousy is an ugly trait you know.”

“Who’s jealous?” Namjoon contests, not sounding believable at all. “It’s about principle.”

“And the principle is Angel and Hyung did nothing wrong,” Jimin uncharacteristically sticks up for Yoongi, even the usual stoic CEO was shocked. “We were all dating at the time, they were both well within their rights, even if it was at work.”

Namjoon looks away dejected, knowing Jimin was right but wanting to hold on to the petty anger.

“I mean why Yoongi hyung is an acceptable question to ask, but Angel doesn’t have the best taste in men does she?” Jimin smirks, teasing him.

“She’s dating you as well, Park Jimin,” Yoongi scoffs in reply, but the feeling of gratitude towards the younger one doesn't dampen.

“It’s inappropriate at the workplace,” Namjoon finally mumbles in response, making Jin roll his eyes. “What if they got caught?”

“You’re the head of the company and you didn’t catch them in the act,” Hoseok mocks with a smirk, an eye brow rising. “And you were in the room with them.”

A knock on the door interrupts their conversation, Jackson looking unusually cautious as he enters. He greets them all with a bow, approaching Namjoon’s desk.

“Depyunim…” he hesitates, putting the envelope in front of him. “There’s another one.”

Namjoon’s carefree disposition disappears, instead Jackson sees a bull about to charge, the fear instilled in him so sudden it takes effort not to move out of his line of sight.

“How many is that now?” Jin asks quietly, the atmosphere in the office now dead. The youngest three looking at their hyung’s in question.

“It doesn’t matter,” Namjoon seethes before commanding Jackson to burn it like every time before. The secretary never did, instead he always put it in the shredder and disposed of it in the confidential waste bins.

He nods, leaving with the envelope and whatever contents it held that shook the four oldest CEOs. As curious as Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung were, there was something about the murderous intent on their leader's face that stopped them from asking what was going on.

“How much longer are we going to hide this,” Yoongi says, knowing how much you hated secrets.

“We don’t need to worry her,” Namjoon dismisses the idea. He was content with pretending the problem didn’t exist, they all were. But how much longer could they ignore a mountain and pretend it was a molehill.

“Maybe we should air on the side of caution and read what he’s said at least,” Hobi suggests.

“We don’t give criminals the time of day Hoseok,” Namjoon replies. “Nothing he has to say is worth our time, or Y/n’s.”

“But he’s incessant,” Jin states. “We thought he’d give up but it's been weeks Namjoon.”

The maknaes all watch the back and forth quietly, trying to decipher what the hell was going on.

“I don’t want to read his threats or blackmail, he has no power where he is.”

“Where we put him,” Yoongi scoffs, “he’s lost everything, which means we shouldn’t underestimate him, there’s nothing he won’t do.”

“What can he do?” Namjoon yells back exasperated. They were pretending for so long he almost forgot about the whole issue.

“Well we won’t know unless we read the letters,” Yoongi responds calmly, knowing Namjoon’s emotions were all over the place. The anger was forefront, their leader usually was able to keep his cool in all aspects of his life, or at least use his emotions productively, but this was different. This made his level-headed nature dissipate, until all that was left was a man desperate to hold onto what he had, regardless of the consequences.

—

“You wanted to see me sir,” you say as you enter the office. Kyungsoo was a good boss, he was a bit scary and blunt at times but always fair. The blank expression he usually wore gave nothing away, which is why everyone who ever interacted with him was always on edge.

“Y/n take a seat,” he says, gesturing to the chair in front of him. The other CEOs were nowhere to be seen.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, starting to worry since his expression seemed more serious than usual.

He sighs. That one action has your heart dropping, you fucked up somehow, you must have. What other reason could he have to call you in here?

“I want you to know I usually don’t pay attention to baseless rumours,” he states, looking you dead in the eyes almost apologetically. “However there is one going around about you that has put your colleagues at a bit of unrest.”

Oh fuck, this again? This again because Jongin tried to flirt with you in front of your supervisors? You press your lips closed before you can start filling the silence with explanations, the man hadn’t finished your accusation yet. Innocent until proven innocent, you were guilty of nothing.

“A few of your supervisors have come to us with the senseless belief that you are somehow a spy for bangtan corporations,” he pauses watching for your reaction, other than your eyes widening in shock and your lips parting, he doesn’t see anything damning there. “We had no reason to believe it, except one of the managers claims to have seen you at dinner with your old bosses.”

You can feel yourself start to sweat under his gaze, for all the reasons he is unaware of. You were not a spy, but yes you had a secret, one that could not get out no matter what.

“Director Do, I assure you, I am not a spy for any company,” you say sincerely, hoping he’ll believe you. “I’m close with my old colleagues and bosses after working with them for so long, but I can promise you I never talk about work.”

He takes in your explanation with silent eyes, you couldn’t read them and you hated it. When it was one of your seven boyfriends you could always read their moods and you missed that, you didn’t realise how much comfort it brought you until now. Even Yoongi, who was dubbed a stone by your old colleagues, you could always grasp his emotional state, this was foreign to you and as a proud teacher's pet it was making you anxious.

“Okay,” he nods, seemingly accepting of your honesty.

You breathe in relief, albeit mind in overdrive trying to think when this manager could’ve seen you. You all went out for dinner recently after coming back from Italy as a call for peace between the hyungs and maknaes. The so-called peace lasted for about ten seconds before they were arguing again about who was in the right and why actions were justified etc etc. It must have been then, the table was in a private VIP booth but they were loud, the noise levels could’ve caught anyone’s attention.

You’re dismissed from the office, head hanging to the ground in thought. Do you tell the others? You probably should so you can all collectively be more careful, but at the same time, you didn’t want to worry anyone.

—

In the end, you do decide to tell them. Your downcast expression when you got home gave away that something was wrong anyway, you didn’t have much choice after the probing from the maknaes. Yoongi begged you to tell them just to shut Jimin’s whining up. They didn’t like it, in fact they went a little too quiet for your liking, but they all agreed they would have to be more careful on dates out, which led to a compromise you weren’t all too happy about but hey, never look a gift horse in the mouth, whatever the hell that meant.

When you all started dating, Namjoon made a point about renting out whole places so you could all enjoy some privacy away from the public and you had vehemently refused. It was too costly, it wasn’t fair on other people that wanted to also visit the places of your dates, and it just didn’t seem normal. Now though, you had to give in, at least to keep your relationship under wraps.

“Is it really worrying you?” Jin asked you after you were silent for a while. Both of you were sharing a slice of cake between you on the dining table, you mind preoccupied.

“Yes,” you say honestly, sighing.

“Oh beautiful girl, I’m sorry,” he replies sincerely, pulling the leg of your chair so you’re closer to him. The action has your heart galloping despite your uneasiness, you’d never told them before but it was your favourite move. In every drama you watched, whenever the male lead did that you would just swoon, and when your boyfriend did it you swooned and died.

For the first time tonight you smile genuinely, shyly trying to hide your expression as you play around with the cake. Jin can see the change in your demeanour, he wanted you closer to comfort you but he can see it had other affects. He pulls it closer even still, his face a centimetre away from yours so he can feel it burning.

“Cute,” he comments quietly, but you hear him. Stupid racing heart, pumping blood to your face, why did you always have to heat up like a volcano whenever they did anything?

He chuckles to himself when you fail to reply, mouth opening as if you were going to but you couldn’t find the words. He kisses your flaming cheek, possibly making them ignite even more going off how your skin almost scorched his lips.

“Beautiful,” he whispers, “why are you suddenly being shy?”

You shake your head without looking at him, as if to say, ‘no reason’. He laughs at your antics, pleased that he’s managed to distract you from your worries for a little while. When you finally do turn to him, you've scooped up some of the cake on your fork, holding it out to him expectedly. Internally he could combust himself from the action, but he hides it well enough, as long as you don’t look at his ears. He doesn't break eye contact with you as he takes a bite, a little of the frosting still on his lips that catches your attention. You wait patiently for him to swallow before you lick it, turning back to the plate as if nothing had happened, leaving Jin spluttering in shock, his face blushing profusely as he tries to calm down. Oh what a dangerous girl you were.

—

“Did you just lock the door?” You laugh incredulously at Hoseok as he climbs into your bed. “You know there’s enough room for more than just us right?”

You’re only teasing but he’s not all that impressed.

“After all you were the one to say that was the reason I got the biggest bed,” you continue, laughing harder when he pins you with a hard gaze.

“I’m not sharing you tonight,” he states, pulling you closer under the covers before reaching over to turn off the lamp. “Plus you still owe me after halloween.”

You’re about to answer when you’re interrupted before you can begin, there’s a knock on the door but Hoseok stops you from answering it.

“What part of not sharing didn’t you understand sunshine?” he says seriously.

“Sorry,” you reply sheepishly, making him finally break into a smile.

There he is, your Sun like boyfriend, you always found it funny that he called you sunshine when he was literally made from it. People gravitated towards Hobi, he was full of character and laughter, you would have to be out of your mind to dislike him. Sure he was a little more… authoritative at work and in bed, but all in all he was one of the nicest people you had ever met, you were lucky to have him to yourself.

The knocking on the door turned into loud pounding, making his smile falter into a stern expression. Oh you felt sorry for whoever was on the other side if they unleashed Hoseok’s mean commander persona. You remember the days working with him, he accepted nothing less than perfection, it was a trait he carried home, but it did lead to a lot of self induced stress from time to time.

“Just ignore it,” you whisper, turning his face away from the door to you in the darkness, “they’ll get the message eventually.”

Unfortunately, whoever is on the other side has a death wish, the banging doesn’t stop for a second. You can feel the patience in Hobi wearing thin before he detonates.

“We’re trying to sleep in here!” He yells with a scowl, his head pounding to the same rhythm as the beats on the door.

For a moment it seems like he’s won, the silence welcomed as he settles back into your embrace, before the sound comes back harder and faster.

“I’m going to kill them,” he growls, about to get up before you tether yourself to him.

“Babe, they’ll give up eventually,” you reassure him, pecking his face wherever you could in the darkness, quelling his anger. You couldn’t see the look of love he was giving you, despite the incessant noise and now voices of demand and displeasure (surprisingly Namjoon and Jungkook, you were so sure it was Taehyung and Jimin), both of you lose yourself to soft touches and as the sound settled, you both fell asleep.

—

“Namjoon no,” you command like he was a misbehaving dog when he stands at the kitchen doorway staring at you with mischievous eyes.

He only grins, staring at your accusing finger like it was nothing, no threat behind it at all. You were on your way out, purposefully avoiding him like every morning since his new habit of trying to steal time you didn’t have. You shouldn’t have risked filling up your coffee travel cup, but the drinks at your new company sucked, they only had machines, no cafe no nothing, you were truly spoiled at bangtan.

Your train of thoughts distracts you from your current predicament until your boyfriend takes a step into the room towards you. Your eyes narrow, his hands behind him playfully, a carefree gait in his movements but his face was nothing less than predatory.

“I just wanted some coffee,” he shrugs innocently, but you know he’s up to no good. You eye the exit behind him, calculating how to manoeuvre your way out of here when he closes the distance. You try to slip past him but he blocks your movement with his arm clutching the counter behind you. His other hand takes your travel mug from your grasp, taking a sip before wincing at the burn.

“It’s hot you dumbass,” you try to snatch it back but he only places it out of reach on the counter beside you, before wrapping his arm around your waist.

“You're hot,” he flirts shamelessly, making your jaw drop and your skin crawl with heat. You were not used to this new carefree attitude they all adopted in disarming you with compliments, your heart couldn’t take it.

“No,” you draw out the vowel as if explaining something simple to someone stupid, “I’m going to be late, move.”

But he doesn’t, he just grins before stealing the kiss he’s been wanting since he woke up.

“Joonie,” you whine when your lips part with a smack, the grin he has on his face is devious as it is sexy. He plays with a strand of your hair avoiding that hard stare you had that told him to behave as he cornered you against the kitchen counter.

“So we’ll be a little late baby girl,” he kisses the corner of your jaw before sucking gently on the skin of your neck. You push him back firmly, face adopting Yoongi’s stoic mask while your heart flutters uncontrollably.

“One of us owns the company and can afford to turn up late,” you say, voice dripping in sarcasm.

“The other one had enough charm to win over 7 of her ex bosses and is cute enough to get away with murder,” he contends, the smirk on his face getting wider when you roll your eyes.

“So you want me to flirt with my new bosses to get myself out of trouble,” you say with a raised brow.

That wipes the smile off his face, he removed your hand from his chest pushing himself onto you, smothering his face in your neck as you giggle uncontrollably.

“That wasn’t funny,” he mumbles against your skin.

“I’m going to be late!” You complain while laughing, you feel him grin against you at the sound.

—

Immediately you can feel something wrong at work, the atmosphere was off but that was the least of your problems. Your coworkers weren’t being subtle in their whisperings and stares, but they were avoiding you and keeping their distance. Even your supervisors who usually confronted you about anything suddenly looked away when you saw them, muttering something between themselves and leaving before you could question it.

Your phone buzzes in your hand, why was Namjoon calling you? He knew better while you were at work. You let the call go to voicemail, trying to get your head into work mode but everyone’s attitude around you was making you anxious, your skin felt like a thousand millipedes were crawling all over it, or under it, your heart switching to fight or flight mode, ready to run. They were looking at you like… you couldn’t explain it, like you had done something awful.

Your phone buzzes again in your hand, this time a message, and when you read it that sinking feeling only gets worse.

Office romance

Namjoon : Y/n go home ASAP

Your heart was in your throat, you were trying not to hyperventilate. The murmurs around you suddenly get louder as a new figure approaches, splitting the sea of colleagues apart until he finds you.

“Miss L/n, a word please,” Kim Junmyeon had never looked so stone faced, his disposition was usually kind and gentle.

Without a word you follow him, putting your vibrating phone away in your pocket, you couldn’t look at it now.

As you walk the stares only get more intense, more curious, and you wonder what the hell was going on. Your brain starts going into overdrive, remembering the conversation between you and Kyngsoo merely days ago. Was this about being a spy?

You expect the CEO to take you to his office but he leads you to one of the meeting rooms, the other CEOs sitting solemnly not meeting your gaze. The screen on the 60 inch tv screen used for presentations was on, and paused, on a news channel.

“Care to explain this Y/n,” Junmyeon says, reaching for the remote and pressing play.

You really wished you listened to Namjoon.

#bts imagines #bts au #bts fanfic #bts x reader #bts fluff #bts ot7 x reader #namjoon au #bts ceo!au #bts ceo #ceo bts #bts ceo au #namjoon x reader #yoongi x reader #seokjin x reader #hoseok x reader #bts scenario #bts writing #bangtan au #bts ot7 au

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alloftheimagines · 1 year

Text

joel miller | survive

masterlist | taglist | ko-fi

words: 4.7k

warnings: 18+! not for minors! please please please read the warnings and skip this one if you're uncomfortable with the subject matter.

episode eight reimagining with the same hard-hitting themes: blood, violence, cannibalism, sexual assault, killing, abduction, vomit. reader takes the place of ellie. angst. hurt/comfort. no happy ending as requested because i wasn't sure that could exist in these circumstances, but there is now a part two where joel takes care of reader and the fic ends on a lighter note.

prompt: Hi! Would love to request something for Joel Miller 🥰 Angst but with a happy ending, after seeing episode 8 I thought maybe reader is with Joel and Ellie, but this time Ellie stays back to keep an eye on Joel so reader gets kidnapped and is the one Joel basically comes back from the dead to save? hahshxdjfbf I just imagine them reuniting and UGH 🥹❤️ Feel free to ignore this if inspiration doesn’t strike!

tags: @sweetbabygirlsworld

You’re terrified of losing Joel. So terrified that instead of watching him shiver and sweat on an old, bloodied mattress as his infection spreads, you opt to go out and hunt. It isn’t solely selfish. You need food, and Ellie needs to rest. At least this way you’re doing something productive rather than waiting for a miracle.

Still, it’s difficult to concentrate on anything but the knot in your stomach, the one that keeps asking “what if?” What if Joel doesn’t make it? How will you survive past that grief for long enough to keep Ellie safe? How will you go back to Jackson and tell Tommy that his brother is gone?

You’re lost in those thoughts when you hear the crunching of snow, and you try to shake them away, readying Joel’s shotgun as you search for the source.

A deer. It’s so beautiful that for a second, you forget that it’s supposed to be your next meal. You’d forgotten beauty still existed in a world so broken, forgotten that nature can still be kind.

But humans can’t. Not if you want to survive; not if you want Joel to survive.

You take a deep breath. Adjust your posture. Shoot.

The bullet doesn’t hit where you want it to; where you know you should have been aiming if only you weren’t so distracted. The deer darts away. Whispering a curse, you follow the trail of blood —

And find more than you bargained for. Two men wait with the dying deer at their feet. They look… clean. Comfortable. Not people struggling to find food or clothing. You raise your gun again immediately, and theirs point back at you.

“Put your guns down,” you order, trying to sound braver than you feel. You did alright before Joel came into your life, but it’s been a while since you’ve been alone and it’s hard to summon the strength that used to come so easy.

“You first,” the darker-haired man says, narrowing his gaze.

The fairer man glances warily before slowly lowering his. Good. At least one of them is smart.

“Not going to happen. On the ground. Kick it away.” You shift on your feet, gripping your gun tightly and readying your finger on the trigger. You don’t enjoy killing people, but you will if you have to. If it means getting back to Joel and Ellie.

“James,” the unarmed man says, calm authority firm in his voice. The one in charge, then. “Do as she says.” He holds up his hands in surrender as his friend, James, finally puts his gun away. “We mean no trouble. We’d just like to talk.”

“So talk,” you bite out, making no move to lower your own gun.

“Alright.” His breath is visible in the cool air, nose pink and runny. “My name is David. This is James. We’re from a town just south of here.”

“Good for you. Maybe you should go back now.”

An amused smirk twitches at his mouth. “Thing is, we have a lot of mouths to feed down there, and this deer… it would keep us going for a week. Maybe two.”

“Shame it isn’t yours,” you say.

A short sigh escapes him. “Right. It is a shame. But if I could offer you warm shelter and good food, a welcoming community, why couldn’t we share?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not interested in negotiating.”

“With all due respect, ma’am… as far as I can tell, you’re all alone in these woods. There’s no reason why you have to be.”

It’s clear the other man, James, isn’t in on David’s kind offer. His mouth is pursed in a thin line, jaw grinding as though he’s holding back from saying something. Welcoming community, my ass.

Still, an idea strikes. You need something else more than you need the deer, and if this town has supplies… “You have medicine in this town of yours?”

David hesitates before dipping his head. “We do.”

“Antibiotics?”

“Yes…”

Hope swells in you for the first time since Joel was injured.

“If you put the gun down, we’d be much more open to discussing what it is you need,” he continues. “Please?”

Gulping, you slowly lower your gun — but you keep it in your hand just in case, stomach still filled with unease. Not every settlement will be like Jackson, and there’s something… off about these two.

“If you get me that medicine, you can have the deer.”

“We can do you one better. We have a nurse down in the village who can help you with your injury. If you just come with us…”

“No,” you say. “You’ll bring the medicine here, to me.”

Another strange smile. “You’ll be much more likely to survive the winter if you let us help you.”

Impatient, you raise your gun again. “Bring it or stop wasting my damn time.”

David lifts his hands again. “Okay. Alright. James, go and fetch what the lady needs.”

“David—” James begins to protest, but is quickly cut off.

“Go on now.”

Reluctantly, he does, and then it’s just the two of you.

“I know a place you can get warm,” he offers. “It’s just through the trees. An old greenhouse. No need to wait out here in the cold.”

It makes your gut twist, how he seems to be determined to get you moving, to take you out of these woods. And there’s a glint in his eye, something untrustworthy there — even his right-hand man seemed to see it. Nobody follows orders like that with pure reasons. He’s… scared, or at least threatened.

“I’m fine just here.”

“Okay. What’s your name?”

“I’m the one holding a gun, which means I’ll be the one asking questions. How many people are there in this town of yours?”

“Forty. Like I said, there’s room for one more. Perhaps it was God’s will, us meeting today.”

Oh, good, you think. He’s a God botherer. You didn’t particularly subscribe to religion before the world turned to shit, and you sure as hell have better things to do than pray now.

“Unless you’re not alone.” His voice seems to lower as though he knows something, and you stiffen instinctively. “Is the injury yours?”

“It’s none of your business.”

He no longer seems to be staring down the barrel of your gun, but right into you. “Because a few of our men had some trouble a few days ago. A man, a woman, and a young girl. Man was thought to be badly injured, you see. If he lived… well, I’d imagine that kinda wound would be susceptible to a nasty infection.”

He knows. He always knew. The raiders you crossed paths with, the ones who hurt Joel…

You no longer feel like the one holding the gun. You feel like the deer bleeding on the snow between you. Prey. Still, you set your chin. “I don’t know what you mean. I travel alone.”

“See, I believe you, but the thing is… my friend, James… he’s not so certain. I’d imagine that once he comes back with that medicine, he’ll be rounding up a few men to go hunting for these people. If what you’re saying is true, I wouldn’t want you to be caught in the middle of that. That’s why it’s much safer you just come with me now, see?”

Your upper lip curls into a warning snarl, finger twitching on the gun’s trigger. But if you kill him, you won’t get Joel’s medicine. You’ll lose him. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Hmm.” He debates this. “There’s a third option.”

“Not interested.”

“I think you are,” he pushes. “I think you’re one of them, and I think you’re trying to help your man. Very noble, but strange. You don’t seem a good match. You’re so… young, so calm, and from what I hear, he’s dangerous. Ruthless, even. A cold-blooded killer. Maybe if you come into town with me now, we can arrange for that medicine to be delivered without my brigade charging in and doing some damage. There’s a place for you. Your daughter, too. You don’t need to be tied to him anymore.”

You want to scoff, or else laugh in his face. Does he believe you’re that simple, that stupid? Does he believe you’re a fucking damsel in need of saving?

Anger simmers in you at the thought. “I think it’s about time you shut up.” You point the barrel at his head now, right between his brows.

He doesn’t balk, doesn’t tremble, doesn’t so much as blink, and you’re beginning to understand. He’s the type of man who uses religion to veil whatever monster lies beneath. He isn’t some small-town do-gooder, though he might believe it.

You dread to think what he might be capable of.

“I think it’s about time you drop your weapon.” The voice doesn’t belong to David. It comes from behind along with the feeling of cold metal against the back of your skull. You risk a glance over your shoulder to see the man from before, James. You should have heard him creep up, should have seen, but you were so focused on the one in front of you.

Your heart thunders as you realise you might not get out of it this time.

“We only want you to come with us,” David says, eyes round with feigned innocence. “That’s all. We don’t want to hurt you.”

“The gun to my head says otherwise. What would God say about this?” you retort, dripping venom because it’s all you have left.

A strange sadness crosses David’s face. “It didn’t have to be this way.”

Before you can pull the trigger, something heavy slams into your skull, and then darkness swallows you whole.

***

You wake in a cage, the taste of blood on your tongue and your wrists bound by rope. David is on the other side of the bars in what looks to be a kitchen, utensils hanging on the wall. Great butchers’ knives and cleavers wink at you in the watery daylight. You go cold with fear, crawling to the furthest corner of the cage.

“Let me go,” you say. “Let me go!”

“I’m sorry. It’s for your own good,” he says. “You were corrupted, but I can help you see the light again.”

“Why are you doing this?” You’re choking on a sob, thoughts of Joel and Ellie running through your mind. What if they found them? Joel is in and out of consciousness and Ellie can’t fight on her own.

David curls his fingers around the bars. “It’s God’s will. I was meant to meet you today. This is where you’re supposed to be.”

“In a fucking cage?” you spit, voice echoing around the kitchen. You pull at the rope until your skin splits, crying out when you realise this is it. There’s no way out. You’re trapped, and you have no idea what this man truly wants with you.

“This is merely a precaution,” he says. “I was wrong about you before. You are dangerous too. You have a dark heart, just like me. If you would just surrender, you could be part of this community.”

You squeeze your eyes closed, clamping down on a plea. You doubt it will do any good. Still, tears roll down your cheeks. “Fuck you,” you whisper.

“You don’t understand yet. You will.” David takes a step back, and somehow the prospect of him leaving you here causes your stomach to turn to water.

“Don’t do this,” you say. But he walks away with a glint in his eye that promises he will be back, and you’re left alone.

Dizziness rattles through you as you pull yourself onto your feet, testing the sturdiness of the bars in hopes you’ll find a weak spot. But it’s padlocked closed and the screws are in tightly —

Something catches your eye, pale and fleshy on the kitchen tiles.

An ear.

In the kitchen.

You vomit without warning as it all comes together. You wonder if the community even knows that their leader feeds them people. Wonder who was last in this cage and how long it took for them to become a meal.

You scramble against the ropes again and pray — not to whatever fucked up God David worships, but someone — that you find a way out.

***

“Joel!” Ellie shakes him frantically and finally he comes to. Sweat glistens on his forehead, his face drawn and pale, but he finally ate something earlier and she’s been keeping him hydrated as he drifts in and out of sleep.

Now, he frowns and hums in question.

“Y/N isn’t back. She didn’t come back, and now people are here.”

The sound of shuffling outside is only growing louder, and she keeps her voice to a whisper as fear grips her. It’s not like you to go more than two hours without checking in, even if you haven’t caught anything for dinner yet. That four hours have passed means something is wrong, and Ellie doesn’t know what to do, how to find you. She needs Joel. She needs you.

“What?” Joel struggles to sit up, the mattress groaning under his weight as he clutches his injured stomach. But he’s alert, awake, and that’s better than he’s been in days.

“She isn’t back,” Ellie says again, voice trembling now. “Someone’s here, Joel. They know about us.”

Understanding clears through the fog in his eyes slowly, and he looks up as he hears the floorboards creak above. “Shit,” he curses, dragging himself slowly to his knees. Ellie watches, pulling out her own gun. “Hide somewhere. Let me deal with it.”

He’s in no fit state to deal with anything, but when Ellie protests, he shushes her and orders her to do as he says, so she does. And as he readies himself for a fight he can’t win, panic rushes through him. You’re not back. Somebody is here.

He’s failed again, or at least is about to, and this time it’s you he’s afraid to lose.

He summons that anger when the silhouette slowly stalks down the stairs. Summons it a lot more when he’s throwing an arm around the idiot’s neck to squeeze the life out of him.

***

Joel has forgotten his injury. He’s forgotten anything but you; the thought of you alone, in danger, afraid. His fingers curl into fists at his side, and when the attacker finally rouses, he orders Ellie to leave the room. He doesn’t want her to see what comes next; who he becomes when he’s trying to protect the people he loves.

Nausea twists through him, but it mingles with anticipation. Some sick excitement. He’s good at being violent. Better at being vengeful.

“Where is she?” he asks, voice just steady enough to be assertive.

The attacker mumbles something, and Joel’s patience quickly dwindles.

“Who are you?” he asks, louder now.

The attacker shakes his head. Doesn’t want to play.

Joel brandishes his knife.

The attacker’s eyes widen in fear as he presses the point into his finger, ignoring the throbbing in his stomach. “You want to do this the hard way?”

“I'm not telling you anything.”

Joel tilts his head and clenches his jaw. Then in one swift motion, he’s gripping the arms of the chair the attacker is tied to, quivering with anger as he towers over him. “Last chance.”

The attacker purses his lips, and Joel steps back, watching him sink in relief — relishing in that false sense of security. Then he throws the first punch, the impact of fist to jaw singing through his bones. He shakes out his hand, punches again. Blood splatters, but he goes again twice more just for good measure, growing weaker with every blow. He stops when he realises that, knowing he needs to conserve his energy to get to you.

“Where the fuck is she?” he bellows.

“I don’t know who you’re talking about!”

He plunges the knife into the attackers knee, the sound of bone crunching and flesh squelching as blood dribbles down his jeans and the attacker cries out. That’s when he begins to beg. That’s when Joel knows he’ll tell him anything.

“Alright!” he’s whimpering. “Alright, please!”

“Tell me where she is or I swear to god, I’ll pop you’re fucking kneecap off.” Joel drives the blade deeper, thirsty now. Desperate. He can’t do this without you. He needs you safe. If he finds out you’re hurt…

“With David!” he blubbers. “She’s with David in town!”

“What tooooown?” (oh, you thought I wouldn’t?)

“Silver Lake!”

“Who the fuck is David and what does he want with her?”

“He…” the man chokes on his own sobs again, and Joel tugs on the knife, earning a piercing scream. “I don’t know what he wants, okay? He’s the leader! He… he took to her, I don’t know!”

A chill crawls down Joel’s spine and his vision blurs as he pauses. His blood-drenched fingers tremble, and he doesn’t know how to make them stop. “What do you mean, he took to her?”

The man spits out blood. “He likes her. Wants her to join him. I don’t know, man. I don’t know. I told you everything.”

Joel wants to tear him apart then and there, but he pulls out his map, yanking the knife from the man’s knee to put the hilt in his mouth. The attacker howls, tears streaking down his cheeks. Joel wants to tell him he’ll do a lot fucking worse if he finds you harmed. He wants to say a lot of things, but cotton fills his mouth and he needs to find you. He needs to stop wasting time. “Point it out to me.”

“It’s not a real town. It’s just a fucking community. I don’t know.”

Joel grips the man’s collar, and his voice falls deathly low. “Point it out to me or I’ll make sure your other knee matches.”

It’s enough motivation for the attacker to pinpoint a spot. His blood stains the map, highlighting a small valley between the forest and mountains.

Joel puts the map in his back pocket and slits the man’s throat before he can beg for his life. He’s not feeling merciful today.

***

David comes back for you an hour later. “Have you reconsidered?”

You only glare at him, your wrists bloody and your eyes gritty from so many shed tears. To your surprise, he unlocks the cage. Despite your better instinct, you stay seated, stay calm. You won’t get out of this if you try to run now. He has the upper hand, and you’ll let him have it, hoping his arrogance, his underestimation of you, will be his downfall.

“You must be hungry,” he says. “Come. Let me show you what I can offer.”

Shakily, you rise from the ground. “Will you at least untie me?”

“I’ll think about it.”

He leads you out of your kitchen. When he’s not looking, you lean your back to the table and snatch an abandoned knife, slipping it up your sleeve.

The front of the building is laid out like an old, cheap restaurant and bar, candles burning and booths lining the windows.

“I’m glad you’ve calmed down,” he says. “Now we’ll get a chance to know each other properly.”

Slowly, you begin to saw at the rope with the knife as he leads you to a booth. Two plates are set at the table, a candle lit in the middle, and you think about the ear on the floor. Wonder if the meat in the stew is not animal, not your deer. You want to throw up again, but you swallow down the bile in favour of relief: the rope has snapped. You keep your hands behind your back as you shuffle in your seat, trying to avoid looking at the meal. The smell of it makes your stomach turn.

“What do you want from me?” you ask finally.

David places a napkin on his lap. “I’m showing you hospitality. Hospitality you haven’t earned, might I add. Where is your gratitude?”

“Where the fuck is my medicine?”

Without warning, he stands and slaps you, and you can’t control your anger as the sting prickles along your cheekbone. You throw your plate at him, the food splattering his face and staining his shirt, and then you run.

A mistake. He hauls you back quickly, and the two of you topple to the floor as he slams your wrist down, forcing the knife away. He pins your hands and then straddles you, and you know what comes next. You know, and you shouldn’t, and this isn’t happening.

“You need to be taught some manners,” he croons, taking your chin in his hands. “A girl like you… you need to learn how to submit. Especially when we’re married. But don’t worry.” He leans down as you squirm, whispering into your ear, “We have time for that.”

“No!” You shout, slapping him away and doing your best to wriggle away. But he’s heavy on top of you, and he’s reaching for his belt, and there’s no way out. No hope. Nothing. “Get the fuck off me, you sick bastard!”

He slaps you again, lash twice as hard this time, and you taste blood.

You refuse to let it end like this. You refuse to let him destroy you. You let your body go slack as he unbuckles his belt, reaching out a hand and scrambling for the knife again. It’s under a chair not far from you — you just have to wriggle a little further.

“It’s sad that you can’t accept that this is how it’s supposed to be. This is God’s will. You and me… we’re the same, underneath. We have the same violent heart,” David is muttering, and there, your fingertips brush the hilt. Determination renewed, you extend yourself again and this time the knife falls into your hand.

You don’t have time to think; he’s unbuttoning his jeans, and like hell are you going to spend another moment beneath him. You drive the knife straight into his neck, and his eyes bulge as he gurgles on his own blood. As he goes limp, you push him off you — and stab again, again, again, spitting every bit of revenge into your movements as his blood covers his skin and your clothes.

“You twisted fucker!” you’re yelling, tears rolling down your face as the shock draws in, the disgust. He’d been so close to taking you. So close to making you a victim after so long spent fighting to be a survivor. “Go to fucking hell!”

You only stop when the fear numbs and you realise he’s no longer moving. Blood soaks both his shirt and yours, and you push yourself off him. His dead, milky eyes stare at you. When you catch a candle guttering in your periphery, you grab it. Crouch with it in your hand. Light him on fire. The flames spread along his clothes, and that’s how you leave him.

Ashes. Bloodied, dead ashes.

***

Joel and Ellie have fought their way through a blizzard. He’s surprised he’s still upright, but he saw bodies hanging in the stable and he can’t collapse now. Not for Ellie, and not for you. This community is built on something worse than infected or fascism, and when he found your jacket, your backpack, in that same room as the corpses…

He can’t see anything but red and white.

Ellie stops behind him suddenly. “Did you hear that?”

“What?” He catches his breath, looking around. There’s a long building close by, but he hasn’t seen any movement yet.

A scream rents through the air, and he knows it’s you. His heart picks up, stomach plummeting as he runs around to find the entrance. And there you are, collapsing out of the doorway.

He says your name as he catches your wrist, and you instantly cower away, screaming. “Please, no! Please, don’t!”

He’s never heard you beg for anything before, and his world tilts on its axis. What the fuck have they done to you?

“Baby, it’s me!” He draws you close, cupping your jaw with his palms. Your eyes are haunted, face pale, and there’s blood. So much blood. You’re still fighting him, pushing on his chest, and he stumbles back. “It’s me. Look at me. It’s me, darlin’. It’s Joel!”

Your breaths are ragged as realisation finally dawns across your features. “Joel,” you whisper.

“It’s me,” he says again, eyes filling with tears.

Your gaze moves to Ellie, and only then do you crumple. He catches you just before you fall to your knees, straining against his injury. “Oh, baby. Oh, baby girl,” he murmurs into your hair. “I’m here now. I’m here now. You’re okay.”

Sobs wrack through you and he wraps his arms around you, holding on so tight he worries he might hurt you. But you clutch his shoulders just as hard, fingernails digging through his coat. You shake beneath him, and his own tears drip onto his cheeks. He pulls away quickly to look you up and down. Blood streaks through your hair.

“Where are you hurt, baby? Tell me where it hurts.”

You shake your head. “I… I don’t know. I don’t know, Joel. I don’t…”

It’s like you’re not even here with him, and he wants to break. But he has to stay upright for you. He has to be strong for you. He shrugs his coat off quickly and puts it around you, catching sight of your reddened wrists as you adjust the collar. Those bastards tied you up. Hatred drowns him, and he looks at the building you emerged from only to find orange flames flickering in the window. It must have been you, he knows, and he can at least feel proud of you for that, but still, the thought of what they might have done...

“Alright. Come on. Let’s get out of here.” He pulls you to his chest, offering his other hand out for Elllie. She takes it, looking shaky as she carries both her bag and yours.

“They were… They were eating people, Joel,” you say, voice thick and unrecognisable. “I just wanted to get medicine, and they took me. They took me. They were eating people and he was going to… He wanted…”

“I know,” he murmurs, holding you tighter. “I know.”

You stop without warning. “They said they had medicine. You… We have to go back.”

“No, no, hey.” He laces his fingers through yours. “We ain’t going back there for anything.”

“The infection—” you protest.

“Look at me. I’m here. I’m okay. I just needed to rest is all. We don’t need any medicine now. We just need to get you somewhere safe.” His heart pangs. The fact you’ve been through hell and are still willing to go back to help him… sometimes he wishes you weren’t so damn selfless. He should have been the one protecting you today. It’s his fault you’re here. His fault you’re hurt.

You scrape your hair back and then, looking at your shaky fingers, seem to finally see all the blood. “His blood is in my hair.”

He can at least be relieved it isn’t your own, but the look on your face… he’s never seen so many scars written in one expression.

“I need to get it out. I need…”

“We’re gonna. We’re gonna help you clean up soon, okay?” He tucks your hair away, lost, because he doesn’t know how to do anything else. Doesn’t know how to make it all go away. “I’m so sorry, baby.” His voice cracks.

Your chest heaves with a stifled sob as you rub your hands and look out towards the lake. “Oh, god.”

Joel closes his eyes, wrought with regret. At his side, Ellie turns her gaze to the floor. It’s his worst fear come true. The reason he’d tried to get Tommy on board with taking Ellie the rest of the way.

He’d failed again. Was always failing.

All he can do is hold you close as you fall apart.

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BOUNTY

hot outlaw x engineer!reader | 2.8k

story summary; shortly following the death of your mother, you come to learn that you're the illegitimate offspring of a railroad tycoon with insurmountable wealth and power meant to inherit it all. after a hasty departure from home to begin your journey across the continent of san-am, your train is stopped and boarded by a mysterious man in black tatters who claims to be there kill you.

story warnings; mentions of death, mention of bodily fluids and excrement, heavy worldbuilding, mentions of conspiracy to murder, kidnapping, neo-western setting, old-west slang used, usage of unique slang, not really proofread or edited, concept piece for a much larger project.

if you enjoyed, please interact & reblog this post!! ❣️

Mother died a week before the lawyer showed up on your doorstep with an inheritance letter and half-hearted condolences for your absentee father’s poor prognosis. A day after that, your life was stowed into a pair of suitcases and a heavier hard case that you barely justified bringing aboard the train. In three weeks and three layovers, you would be across the continent in St. Corpus, the industrial heart of San-Am, where your father awaited you on his deathbed.

Horace Grissom had fathered a new age of industry and outward expansion in lands once believed to be sprawling metropolises centuries long gone. They had been left behind as skeletons of steel and rust from a time of global war, reclaimed in totality by the roots of elder trees, the decay of salt and sea, the precarious will of mountains, and the great sinkholes and corrosion of sand and time.

Traces of that old world had survived thanks in part to the rigorous efforts of archaeologists and conservationists at the University of San-Am in Grimerise. With each new discovery, opportunistic vultures like your father blotted their pens to their tongues to their pocketbooks and readied themselves to own the patent of it like history had a price and could only belong to them. Indeed, anything could be bought, because with those fragments of history, he built the San-Am Continental Railroad which crossed through each of the five territories and was considered the premier way to travel.

You were never allowed to ask questions about Horace under Mother’s roof as the very mention of his name would set her ablaze in some pettish, garrulous tantrum that, oftentimes, ended with you going to bed before dusk without dinner until the next day. She loved that bitterness up until the very moment she died, clawing your clothes, your skin, her nightgown, her own throat because she couldn't breathe and there was nothing you could do to save her from succumbing.

“Go in peace, Mother.” you said, kissing the back of her sun-speckled hand even as she tried digging her nails into your face. “I love you.”

She did not waste peacefully, nor did she end by staring up rapturously at the ceiling as though something else waited for her beyond it. Mother passed in blood, vomit, excrement, and all her hatred while you bade her farewell and considered who was best to call to have her body carted away to burn with all the others that had also succumbed that day. You made sure to label that as the cause of death on the official paperwork.

After that, you had made quick work of piling all of her things into boxes to be incinerated as well, certified the house was safe and in a liveable state (besides her old mattress, which was the first thing you disposed of because of the smell) for another family to move into.

Once all of that had been finished and you gained the time to rest, you got a knock at your door, a bald, sinewy man with a round hat claiming to be Joseph Whitwald—estate planning lawyer, he made sure to specify more than once—and that you needed to leave post haste to your father's estate in St. Corpus before he perished.

“You have significant placement in his will, illegitimate or not. This is what he wanted, this is what shall be done,” said Whitwald assuredly as he rooted through the pockets of his pants and white suit vest for something. He found it and made a sound and a flourish, revealing to you a red ticket. “Take this. It's for one of the elite cabins in first class. Your father wanted you to have the best amenities that the San-Am Continental has to offer.”

Even with such luxuries available to you with the sound of a bell on string, you eventually found yourself exchanging tickets with a young woman traveling solo for the first time. She went red in the eyes, asserted her appreciation, and scooped you into a hug before taking the ticket and her belongings to the first car.

The passenger car was considerably noisier with children running amok, drunks and musicians belting tunes while dancing in the center aisle—doing poorly to keep their balance as the train navigated the terrain beneath the rails, and ladies in bustles and fashionable blouses screaming like hens over fresh gossip. The stewards were frustrated that they couldn't get their trolleys through all the bodies, whereas some passengers let their stomachs roar through their mouths as they assailed anyone nearby (especially the poor lads just trying to deliver food) with complaints.

You liked everything happening around you; it was a good distraction from the way life had twisted your arm behind your back. The cacophony of laughter and anger felt like home, a comfortable companion to sit there with you on the empty, thinly padded benches while you stared uselessly at the inheritance papers—uncomprehending.

A gasp shot up your throat and made you bite your tongue as you were launched forward onto the adjacent bench (also empty) when the train suddenly began to slow—brakes engaged with such quickness that the wood beams under your feet vibrated up through your soles into your bones and teeth and skull until you became lightheaded and collapsed back into your seat.

The squeal and grind of steel worsened your confusion, turned the fuzz in your head into dull drumming—aches that pulsed to a beat you couldn't figure out, but it deadened the screams all around you and bodies hitting the floorboards in thunderous heaps.

And then, there was silence.

The other passengers kept their voices low as they climbed back into their seats, children were smothered deep into their mother’s bosoms as they wept, and no one dared to investigate what had brought the train to such a violent stop.

“Mummy, what's happening?” asked a girl from the benches behind you. She couldn't have been older than ten, from the sound of her. “Mummy, why—”

“Lottie!” the mother hissed at her daughter, “Shhh! Say nothing else, child.”

From a few seats away, closer to the front, you recognized the gruff, muddled voice from one of the drunkards who had been dancing in the aisle a while ago. Now, he had a bloody nose and a nasty knot growing on his forehead.

“What the hell is the big idea of them scarin’ the piss outta us like this? Do you see my face? They gonna do somethin’ to fix it?” he complained, then swigged liquor from a flask he had smuggled on. “I should go up there and give ‘em a piece of my mind. Bastards.”

“Peace, friend,” soothed a musician with an unfamiliar accent and stringed instrument. “Don't be hasty. I'm sure there’s a good reason why they had to stop. Let them find a solution, we’re just here for the ride.”

Just as the chatter was rising up again, commotion from the first class car stifled it hard, prompting some folks to abandon their seats near the door separating the cars to crowd into the rear. You were tempted to flee with them, join their pack so if they were going to find a way off the train, you'd be mixed up in their stampede and have a better chance to get away.

Except, you simply packed away your inheritance paperwork and sat there with your chin tucked to the collarbone, the visor of your baseball cap pulled lower over your sunglasses to seem as nondescript as possible. Meanwhile, the sounds from first class grew intense; glass shattered, passengers screamed and shuffled around, something you knew to be true because you felt the floor rumble under your feet again.

And then, the passenger car door slid open without the ferocity you had expected. The door scraped along its metal rail, allowing the body to pass through in heavy, languid steps. You paced your breaths to hear it all; the boots and clinking spurs striking wood with dull thuds, a baritone hum that you were convinced you could feel reverberate in your own chest as it came closer, the scuff of thick fabric and creaking leather.

You waited for it all to pass, to move on like a slow-moving rain cloud amidst a humid summer day, but it stopped at you instead. The tips of the man's boots were within view, as were slithers of tattered, black fabric from a long duster that fell short of his shins.

And then, there was the barrel of a gun. The breaths you had been holding shivered out of you, cold dread sank deep into your stomach and bones as the gun flicked upward a few times.

You obeyed and raised your head up to look at the man—tall, broad-shouldered, a rugged face with dark features mostly obscured by the shadow of his wide rim.

He tilted his head, gun higher as he flicked it down and you understood that to mean to take off your sunglasses. When you did so, offering him a full view of your face, his lips lifted crookedly into a half-smile.

“Well then,” he took the bench adjacent to you before holding something up to your head, seemingly a piece of paper, and shifted his gaze between you and it just twice. “Aren't you something special? Found you, darlin’.”

“What?” you frowned. “Found me?”

“Yeah, the resemblance is uncanny. You're definitely his kid. It's all in the eyes, really.” He said, turning the paper around to reveal a photograph of a man who you did share an eerie likeness to. It was the sameness in the eyes—the color and shape and emotion they evoked through a simple still image. “Horace Grissom had an illegitimate kid a long time ago. Turns out, not everyone is so pleased for that to become public knowledge. Turns out, someone wants you to bite the ground.”

“I've done nothing wrong!” you bristled.

He settled on the bench and hiked an arm up across the back of it. “That's usually how it goes, hun. Puttin’ holes in types like you really ain't my favorite thing to do. You'd be surprised how many people get put in your exact situation. Well, eh, not quite. ‘Cause not everyone is Horace Grissom’s kid.”

“Who hired you?” you demanded.

His lopsided smile remained. “Can't tell you that, darlin’. Confidentiality an’ all that.”

“So, then, you're a bounty hunter?” At this point, you weren't sure if you were trying to stave off an inevitability, or he had just riled you up that badly. “How much are you getting?”

“Enough to live the high-life for quite a while, I'd say.” He continued, “but I ain't no bounty hunter. Them folks gotta play by rulebooks an’ a bunch of codes and whatever. Not my thing.”

“A criminal, then,” you said. “An outlaw.”

He shifted the rim of his hat away from his eyes and leaned towards a pillar of golden, midmorning sunlight that came in through the window. “Sure, if that's what'll make you feel better about this entire thing.”

You could actually see him now—the contrast between the ambery hue in his rich complexion and pale green of his eyes. His skin had some weather to it, enough to prove that he had seen the worst of every season for years on end without it wearing him thin, along with thoroughly kempt hair on his face and loose waves that draped slightly beyond his shoulders.

“I…” the longer he stared at you, the less you were able to think. That was ridiculous considering you had survived the soul-crushing burden of engineering school and all of the personalities therein. “I can offer you something better than what you were hired for.”

He did a fast sweep of the colossal heaps of fabric hanging from your frame, a style you preferred to keep eyes off of you on the best and worst of days. It didn't do much to deter him as it did others.

“Oh, yeah? Whaddya got, hun?”

You lifted your shoulders and stacked your bones right. “I've got a vast inheritance that I'm not interested in. Horace is dying and I’m in his will to receive half his properties, along with his shares in the San-Am Continental Railway and Subsidiaries. If you can get me to St. Corpus, you can have the inheritance—every last gris.”

A shrill whistle echoed around your head, tuneful and mocking. The sound of it whittled your confidence back down to nothing, filling the space of your throat with a vise that you couldn't seem to swallow around. That same great unease you had felt before weaseled around in your chest, coiled your ribs and then plunged straight down into your gut.

“Good offer, but it ain't on the table.” The way he spoke was easy and slow, a thick drawl that suited every bit of him up to even now. He acted as though he weren't essentially holding a gun to your head, threatening your life in the name of money—or something else. “Gris is always good to have lyin’ around, but, honey, it don't really mean a lot to a man like me. Why, then, d’ya think I take on work like this? Why do ya think I trek halfway across the five territories time and time again? What really keeps a man goin’ out here in this godforsaken place?”

You felt yourself shrink in your seat as he leaned forward over his thighs, coming closer still like he had a secret to keep. “It's for the thrill. The hunt. The challenge of it all. Now, don't get me wrong, I don't actively seek out men to shoot or… nice types like you, but part of the fun is trackin’ down, the other part is just havin’ a chat—just like this.”

Then, he had the picture of Horace held out to you between two fingers. “Tell ya what, I see that hard case you brought aboard. I know what it is, but I want you to offer me somethin’ more interesting than a bunch of gris.”

You scrunched the photograph against your palm once you had it, hoping the sweat off your skin would ruin his face and make the ink run, but looked to the aforementioned hard case instead.

It was made of a hard plastic shell with strips of rubber outlining the odd shape of the thing. Inside was your handheld welding gun—one of many—that you had decided to bring along for little reason besides thinking it could be of use at some point during your time away. It wouldn't be enough to handle larger jobs such as the ones you were accustomed to in the workshop back in Grimerise, but it could fix a wagon or two, glue some pipes together, and do some damage if need be.

“C’mon, darlin’, sell yourself to me.” he pressed, gesturing his impatience with winding fingers. “What do you do for a living, huh?”

“I'm an engineer,” you continued hastily, “I-I can solder, weld, braze, cut, and saw. I can do anything if I have the right equipment.”

In turn, he asked, “Does that mean you can cut open a safe?”

“If you give me what I need, I can do anything.” you said.

A new sort of look overcame his features, one of great fondness and admiration that made the green of his eyes take on the milky luster of jade. You had the hope that this unique softness would gain you freedom from a shallow, empty death; a chance to go forward to seize the assets sworn to you by a man you'd never known.

His hands came forward to take your wrists, the weight of them first heavy and then cold as a pair of handcuffs were locked around you, knocking bone when you lunged back into your seat and fought against them.

“I've got myself quite boon!” In the next moment, he had hauled you up across his shoulder, retrieved both your suitcases, and called one of the stewards to carry your welding gun after him. “Time to go. Gotta introduce you to the crew and get ya settled in.”

“Wait, I don't even know your name!” you shouted and thrashed from shoulder.

He grinned. “Jericho, darlin’.”

a/n: so, this is a concept piece to a very large neo-western project I'm currently in the process of outlining and fleshing out. most things mentioned in this little oneshot will not be present in the final piece, the quality will, of course, be substantially better.

jericho is an outlaw with an extremely complex background story and will definitely be one of the more interesting characters I've ever written. he's not necessarily the sort of man you want entangled in your life, but he's loyal to a fault once you have his trust. his personality tends to revolve around "taking things as they come", which is a great nuisance to those around him. he likes a good challenge, strong liquor, and good medicine.

here's a brief glossary if you're interested:

san-am: the continent where events take place. no one knows what it used to be called because most historical documents have been lost. it's divided into five territories with a "capital".

grimerise: the central hub of commerce, home of the governing bodies. it's a large city dead center of the other four territories. mc was born and raised there. the university of san-am is also here.

st. corpus: the industrial heart of san-am, found down south near the seaboard. mc's father lives there.

"gris": currency in this world. its components are coins and bank notes. it is a relatively new thing to come about because the bartering system is still the preferred method of trading.

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misserabella · 1 year

Text

stray. pt1

joel miller x fem! reader

next chapter >

summary; after saving Joel and Ellie from the brink of death, you get caught with having to live with two more strays…, and you don’t do strays.

REMINDER: english is not my mother language so i apologize if there are some mistakes <3 !¡ either ways, i hope y’all like it. <3

REPOSTS AND COMMENTS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED!<3

warnings; eventual +18 content! MINORS DONT INTERACT IN THE CHAPTERS WHERE IT IS IMPLIED IN THE WARNINGS. and smut, mentions of death, possible deaths, blood, fighting, angst, fluff…

warnings for chapter 1; guns, blood, fighting, clickers, wounds, weapons, threats, mentions of sleeping pills, tension, arguing, cursing…

Please, under no circumstances, repost my work on any other sites. I do not consent to anyone taking my work and posting it as their own.

Joel should have known it was too good to be real. Too silent, too calm, too safe…

The building was old, in ruins in this world that was left for dead in between the slaughter and the blood, the floors filled with dust and with holes every now and then. Ellie had been too focused on playing with the things she could find, completely unaware of the danger that slowly creeped on them through the dark, just like Joel, who was unable to focus due to Ellie’s rambling.

It was only a mere instant, a fucking second. A wrong turn, a step that almost costed him his life. And before he knew he was struggling with a clicker that bit into the air, mere inches away from his face, it’s claws making him bleed as he tried and push him away. He had jumped in the moment he saw it going for Ellie, ready to pounce, ready to turn her to shreds.

“Step back!” he screamed at her, pushing her a side to protect her. “Shit.” he mumbled as he found himself losing the battle to the monster. It was too strong.

Think, Joel, think. There must be a way. And he knew what it was, but he couldn’t reach his fucking gun since it had been thrown away from him and into the direction of another clicker that had been lured to them by the noise.

“Joel!” Ellie screamed, but was taken aback when he stared at her as she tried and step closer to help.

“Ellie, ru-“ he was ready to let her go, ready to tell her to run and never look back. In the end, there was always deaths, there were always forgotten lives ripped apart from this fungus.

But his voice died in his throat when the clicker that he was barely holding back dropped dead to his feet, the other on his right screeching before running towards him, but he was late, meeting the same fate as the other infected.

Ellie and Joel turned their heads to the bullet’s direction, the shots rumbling in the walls and making goosebumps rose.

“Get down!” and then there was this girl, shouting at them, pointing them with the same gun that had just saved them and looking at them with the same fire and hatred that he had looked at those monsters.

Joel rose his arms and Ellie followed. Although it was only for an instant that she seemed to give up, in just a second letting out an ‘ouch’ as she had extracted her knife from her sleeve, ready to fight, but being met by a bullet against the metal, sending her knife meters away from her and leaving her with no scratches.

“Get the fuck down!” the girl, who had now stepped onto the light that seeped through the windows repeated, this time more serious, cocking her gun, her finger in the trigger ready to kill them if that was what she needed to do.

You squinted slightly when the sun hit your face, your eyes quickly adapting as you looked at the pair get down on their knees with both their hands up in the air.

You should have killed that little brat for just the mere though of trying to hurt you, but it had been a long time since you had stumbled across someone not infected in a long time, and you wanted to see what the hell was their deal. Travelers? FEDRA?

“Show me your fucking arms.” you ordered, pointing the gun at the man on your left, who was bleeding.

He groaned in pain as he lifted the sleeves of his shirt, showing you his brown and sculpted arms full of scars and new slashes that gushed the crimson of his blood. Scratches. And they were deep. No bite marks. No signs of possible infection.

“You. Brat.” you pointed at her next, and you felt the man tense up, what made your skin crawl. “Show me your arms.” she was pale, ghostly even, looking between you and the man beside her, a terrified look in her eyes. You sighed, firing a bullet at her, passing her by the ear by just mere centimeters, but still scratching her cheek enough to let a fresh drop of blood decorate her face. Joel’s breath hitched when you cocked your gun once again, pointing directly in between Ellie’s eyes. “Next time I won’t miss.” you promised, certain.

Ellie understood that there was no running from that situation. She closed her eyes and, with her tiny trembling hands, rose his sleeves. That’s when you saw it.

“I fucking knew it.” you said, stepping closer until the gun was pressed directly to her head.

Ellie inhaled a deep cold breath, his eyes tightly closed. You were going to kill her, and she knew it.

“No, wait.” the man beside her spoke and you rolled your eyes as you looked at him.

“Are you fucking stupid? Walking around with an infected? What were you going to do when she started twitching, huh? Put her on a collar and walk her around like a dog?” Ellie let out a scared little sound when you pushed the gun further onto her skin.

“It’s different. She’s different.” he promised, slowly creeping closer to the two of you.

“Oh yeah sure, as if I hadn’t hear that before.” you scoffed, sarcasm dripping off your tone. “Sorry. Is nothing personal.” you said to the girl before your finger started to push against the trigger.

“She’s immune!” Joel screamed, making you stop. “The bite mark. Is a few days old. She doesn’t get infected. She’s immune.” he said more slowly, as if he was trying to calm you down, convincing you of not staining the dusty floor with that kids innocent blood.

You harshly tugged on her arm, analyzing the skin, the bruising. He was right, it wasn’t fresh. And there were more scars in the same arm, but no rest of the spread. The vines that had internally started to grown under her skin fading just a mere centimeters towards her biceps, and then, soft untouched skin. She had fought the infection.

You couldn’t believe it. And Ellie although she understood your fear, still groaned in pain when you tested her by pinching her skin with a needle on her neck. The green light made it easier to breath for you. The retracting of your gun made it for Joel and Ellie too.

You silently and a little harshly tested the man, who only flinched the slightest. Green. They were clean. That kid… was immune?

That was when your shoulders seemed to relax, your lips letting out a sigh that you didn’t knew you had been holding in.

Ellie and Joel looked at each other, and he nodded at her, promising her: we’re fine.

“You, kid.” Ellie’s hands struggled to catch her knife, which you had folded to securely throw it at her. Joel didn’t seem to have the same problem with his gun, taking it swiftly in the air.

You then inspected the zone, there didn’t seem to be any more clickers around. Your hand laced around a water bottle that stood on your backpack’s side pocket, taking it to drown a sip of cold water that made your muscles ache for more, for a rest.

Joel and Ellie slowly stood up as you rested against a wall of the building, a walkie-talkie sizzling on your pocket and a voice mumbling something as you took it out.

“Found a man and a kid at the hospital. They are clean.” you talked into the little artifact. Joel shoved Ellie, who looked at it with shiny and curious eyes. “What?” you suddenly inquired at something that had came through the line. “No. Have you lost your mind? We can’t.” you were back straight in your feet, listening to who Joel suspected might be a friend or a companion of yours. “Larry, you don’t understand- I know that. Yeah, but there are not enough-… I know.” you said. “I know…” you repeated again, this time softer, your voice lower. You sighed and looked up to the ceiling as ‘Larry’ said something more through the walkie-talkie. “Fine.” you groaned. “But it’s on you. I’m not taking responsibility.“ you hissed onto the speaker and then shoved it on your pants once again.

You turned around and started walking, rolling your eyes and looking back with you arms raised in exasperation. “Are you guys coming? Or do I have to give y’all my hand too?” you mocked them, and Ellie was going to follow you, but Joel stopped her.

“What the hell do you think you’re going?” his husky voice growled.

“Dude. She just saved our fucking asses! Like literally.” she frowned, raising her hands.

“Yeah you’re right. Let’s follow a complete fucking stranger to God knows where!” he sarcastically scoffed and Ellie gave him a death stare.

They were like fucking kids.

“You know I can hear you, right?” you sighed and they looked at you. God, this was going to be a fucking nightmare. You could already feel a headache creeping in. “Look. It’s not safe here. Listen to the freak.” Ellie frowned when you pointed at her, letting out a ‘hey!’ that you ignored as you looked at the man. “How much water do you have left? Do you have any food at all?” you scoffed when they didn’t answer. “If you don’t come with me, you will not survive. Not here. You’re in the danger zone. And that…” you pointed at the two clickers dead onto the ground. “Was a close call.”

Joel didn’t answer, didn’t even mutter a word and you rolled your head as you gave them your back once again. “Fine. At least I tried.” you shrugged. Better for you. You didn’t like company. You did good on your own. You didn’t need anyone. And surely didn’t need them. Larry could cry about it.

“Why are you doing this?” your feet came to a stop when he finally spoke up, his eyes untrusting and rough on you. You couldn’t complain, you looked at him the same way.

“I have this nut job of a friend who likes to take care of strays a little bit too much.“ you smirked. “I don’t. So if you’re not coming, don’t bother me.” you said, and as you started to walk again. This time, they followed.

“Fucking hell, that door gets heavier every day.” you muttered as you opened the metal door after having unlocked it with the code.

The three of you had walked along for a couple of miles before coming to a stop in a town more into the woody side. Joel had caught on pretty quickly but it still took him by surprise. It was like going back to Bill and Frank’s little paradise, though this one was much bigger, fuller, brighter…

You locked the door once Ellie had stepped inside, just right after Joel, turning on the high voltage and the alarms of the fence that you made sure to check twice every night before guarding for any new infected that could have made their way though the multiple traps that surrounded the little fortified town.

“y/n is back!” a little kid suddenly screamed, and before you knew it you were swarmed in by toddlers that hung too tightly to your legs and glued you to the floor.

So…, y/n.

Joel and Ellie stepped back just the slightest, overwhelmed by the enthusiasm of the little kids, who surrounded you from everywhere. They were not much, around five, but they were really talkative and enthusiastic.

“I’ll go tell Larry!” one of the bigger kids ran away, entering a white house filled with flowers in between stomps.

You couldn’t fight the smile that appeared on your face when they started to ask questions about your little trip.

“You were gone for so long!” a little blonde girl pouted. Rose, one of the youngest of the new generation who always clutched this rabbit plushie you had made her out of worn out clothes.

“I’ve only been away for three days.” you said in a whisper, kneeling down to have them at your own height. “And you know what? Look what I found!” you unhooked your bag pack from your shoulders, rummaging inside to find little toys and new clothes that you had found on the mall a few hours away from the town.

Joel was taken back by your sudden demeanor, you looked so rough around the edges, so cold, so serious… That he surely wasn’t expecting it to be any different in any ambit of your life. And yet there you were, smiling, talking softly, no tension in your body, no fear shaking your bones…

The kids screamed in joy. New toys always seemed to brighten them up. They always looked forward to your arrivals, always eager to know what had happened, if you had had to fight any infected…

Who Joel supposed was that known Larry with which you had talked though the walkie-talkie, came out of the house with a little girl in between his arms, heading towards you and the kids, which were now looking at the gifts that you had brought them.

“y/n!” your head rose when you heard that little and sweet voice, your chest fluttering when the little kid that Larry carried touched the floor and ran towards you. You reached out for her, picking her up as you came back to your feet with a smile. “You’re back!” she smiled at you with her big green shiny eyes, her long and dark hair tickling your neck as she hugged you with her tiny arms.

“I’m back.” you said in just a mere mumble. Feeling like you could finally breath. “Was Larry good to you? Do I have to kick his old ass?” she laughed at your question, while Larry, who had finally reached all of you, gave you a dirty look.

“Remind yourself who you’re talking to, kid.” he warned, but still smiled as he pulled you into a hug. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I always come back.” you said, but you could still feel his relief. He was always unsure to let you go to the exterior, even though he knew you were capable and that you were strong, he always cared. He had raised you after all. Just like one of her daughters. Even if you and Lizzy weren’t real sisters. Even if you weren’t of his blood like she was, you were still his family, you were still his daughter and Lizzy was still your sister.

“Who are they?” Lizzy suddenly asked in a whisper, still loud enough for Joel and Ellie to hear, who had been completely silent since they had crossed the doors that welcomed them to the safe zone you and the town had worked on so hard to build.

“Just a couple of strays.” you said, and there it was, that detached tone, that coldness, that rough eyes. “You know how much your daddy likes them, isn’t that right Larry?” you mocked him, to which he simply rolled his eyes.

“Mmmh…” Lizzy hummed, muttering a ‘she’s pretty’ towards Ellie, who looked at her and couldn’t help to smile.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Larry.” Joel took his hand when offered, giving him a good shake as he spoke up for the first time in what it seemed to he hours.

“Joel. And this is Ellie.”

“It’s nice to meet you Ellie.” Larry smiled, and she nodded, mumbling a ‘nice to meet you’ as well. “I’m sorry that you had to walk so much to get here. Do you need anything? Water? Food?”

“Larry.” your voice was cold, warning. You were a lot on the town, and this season it hadn’t been easy. The harvest hadn’t been as successfully as the previous ones. Nothing to fear, though, you still had enough, but Larry gave too much all the time, and you cared. He simply ignored you.

“We’re al-“ Joel was about to negate the offer, but Ellie’s tummy rumbled so loud you almost had to choke a laughter. He looked at her with a scowl that only made her get defensive.

“I’m sorry!” she awkwardly smiled, whispering at him.

“Let’s go. I have some meat cooking in the kitchen, and some eggs to fry too.” Larry said, giving them a wave with his hands so they could follow.

“Larry!” you called out to him again, and this time he looked at you with a more severe look in his eyes. You scoffed. “Fine. Do whatever the fuck you want, I’m going to take a fucking shower.” you said, and you gave Lizzy one last hug before letting her feet touch the floor and walk away after a quick goodbye to the kids.

“I’m sorry for that.” Larry apologized as you became smaller in the distance. “Then, shall we?” and then he was smiling once again, pointing towards his house for them to tag along.

You cursed under your breath, not looking back as you took a turn, even if you could still feel eyes boring into the back of your skull.

Larry was a gentle old man that reminded Joel of Frank. He was sweet, attentive…

He also cooked really good.

Ellie was now onto her second plate, having asked for more after devouring the first. Joel was dragging it out. He didn’t like to hung onto people’s kindness. He knew that this people must work really hard to just survive, he didn’t like the idea of not being able to give them nothing in exchange for their welcoming.

The slamming of the front door made Larry know that you were back, already putting down a plate for you. When you stepped into the kitchen you didn’t even look at those already sat down at the table. Joel took in your still wet hair, braided up for more comfort, your clean new clothes and face (which you had freed of all dust and dirt) and your bandaged hands, from where your knuckles bled through.

“What’s this?” you hissed when Larry took your hand, which was swollen under the bandages. “What have I told you, huh? You can’t keep training like this, y/n.” you waved his touch away.

“I’m fine. Just a little rusty. It’ll stop bleeding soon.” you gulped down a glass of fresh water.

You tried your best to make it as if you couldn’t feel the two strangers looking at you. Joel and Ellie, you remembered.

“Are you hurt?” Lizzy said, strawberries in her plate all chopped up for her to not choke.

“No baby, I just scratched myself a little bit.” you took your plate, sitting onto the kitchen counter, like you always did despite Larry’s bickering to eat. You were half down your scrambled eggs when you rolled your eyes, sighing in annoyance. “What is it that you want?” you inquired at Larry, who frowned.

“I’ve not said anything.”

“You haven’t. But I know you want something for the seasoning.” you pointed at your eggs. “You always season them when you want something.” and it was true, seasons were expensive. So he always used them up on special occasions.

He fell silent, and you looked at him with rose eyebrows.

“I need you to let Ellie and Joel stay at your place.”

The silence was lethal. So cold it made Ellie shiver. There was tension in the air, you were not happy.

You let out a curt sarcastic scoff. “Yeah, no fucking way.” you said, going back to your eggs.

“y/n-“

“No.”

“You know I wouldn’t ask you this if I had spare rooms, but I don’t…” he sighed.

“And I do?“ you scoffed, letting aside your eggs.

“Lizzy baby, can you please go eat the rest of your fruit to the salon?” Larry inquired to his daughter, not wanting her to hear your bickering. She nodded and took his little bowl.

“Are you coming, Ellie?” she asked the girl, who looked at her surprised at first with those shiny eyes of hers. After Joel nodded at her and she nodded back at Lizzy, who gave her one of his hands and led her out of the kitchen.

“y/n…” he tried once again but you let aside your plate.

“I don’t have any spare rooms.” you interrupted.

“But you do!” he softly said, as he always did.

“I don’t. There’s my room and Laura’s room, when she gets back…”

“She’s not coming back, y/n. You know that.” you looked at him, hurtful eyes taking Joel by surprise. It was the first time he saw vulnerability in you. Even if he hadn’t known you for long… He knew that this was something he shouldn’t be witnessing, shouldn’t be able to see. This was private. This was yours. “Lau-“

“Don’t say her fucking name.” you growled, poison falling from your lips.

“She is gone, baby…” you slapped his hand away when he tried and cup your cheek. You felt the sting of tears into your eyes. “y/n…”

“You’re a dick, Larry.” you muttered as you got back on your feet. “You always do this. Why is it with you and your fucking strays, huh?” you pushed on his chest, and he took your bloody hand to press it against his heart. “I don’t want any of them anymore. I’m sick of it.” you mumbled under your breath.

“I know, I’m sorry…” he sincerely said, letting you go when you flinched away from his touch.

You straightened up and looked at Joel, who silently stood as a mere expectant.

“Let’s go.” you said, your eyes going back to cold stone as you walked out of the kitchen. “You, kid. Move.” you called out to Ellie, who was sharing fruit with Lizzie. You gave her a good night kiss, promising to see her tomorrow as you opened the door to leave your ‘father’ ’s house.

They stepped outside after saying thank you to Larry, who only nodded and offered Joel a clean change of clothes before you left, leaving you to find something for Ellie’s at your place since all Lizzie’s clothes would be too small for her.

You walked down a few houses until getting to a short building, where your little flat stood. It was old, so old that you had to rattle with the lock before the door would creak open, but it was clean, and welcoming. It felt like home. Something that surprised the couple of outsiders since you didn’t look like someone who would decorate your house this much. There were even fresh flowers on the dining table.

Ellie looked at everything with a shine in her eyes. She had always lived in a shitty cell-like room when she stayed with FEDRA, and Joel’s apartment was not really pretty to be honest…

So this was new, different, pretty…

“Bathroom to your right, rooms to your left.” You pointed at the white closed doors as you explained. The kitchen was connected to the salon, leaving a really open space framed by covered windows. “Don’t touch anything.” you said as you looked Ellie reach for the book shelf right beside the entrance. “If you need water, the tank is right beside the fridge. You can use the bathroom as you like, but leave it as you found it. Don’t touch the shelves. The things there are not mine.” you said in such a lifeless tone…

For them this could feel like home. For you? This was hell.

“Brat.” you called for Ellie, who frowned and remembered you her name. “Yeah, like I care.” you said moving towards one of the rooms. “Come with me, let’s find something for you to change onto. You two stink.” you said, and as if they shared the same brain cell, they both sniffed their clothes as you turned around.

Ellie stood close to the door when you went into what it seemed to be your room. It was plain. White. With no personality, no personal effects more than a couple of books, notebooks and two polaroid photos glued to the wall beside your bed. She couldn’t see who where on them due to the distance though.

“Here.” you gave her a pair of underwear, a t-shirt, a pair of sweats and a jacket along with a pair of fussy socks to battle the coldness of the night. “You don’t have your period, do you?” you inquired her with no interest at all.

“Uhmm, no.” he shook her head. “Not right now.” you nodded.

“There are some tampons and pads on the bathroom sink if you need them.” she nodded, unable to thank you since you were already out of the room.

Joel was inspecting the walls when you came back. There were a lot of drawings, art pieces and photos hanging from them. The paintings seemed pretty professional, but they were not from any famous artist that he could recognize, so he figured you or someone else might have painted it. You appeared on most of the photos. There was you with Lizzy and Larry… You and the kids of the town. You and…

“So, this is what we’re going to do.” you pulled his attention from the photos back to you. “I’ll take the couch. You both take my room. The bed is big enough for the two of you to fit.”

“What about that room?” Ellie pointed towards the door further to her left, next to yours. Your gaze hardened as you looked away.

“That room is off limits.”

They both fell silent, at least for a couple of minutes until Ellie awkwardly let out a little joke to break the ice —that didn’t seem to help— and made her way towards the bathroom, shutting the door behind her.

You didn’t gave Joel a single look, getting yourself onto the kitchen and getting a pot full of water ready to boil to make yourself some tea. You were fucking exhausted. You hadn’t slept for the last three days, always on guard ready to fight if some clickers would attack. And even if your eyes begged for you to close them and rest, your mind would never shut up, always keeping you awake.

You hoped this time the tea would work. You always hoped it would.

“I can’t let you take the couch. I’ll take it.” Joel suddenly said. It was the first time you two talked, alone.

You scoffed. “Yeah sure, as if you will be able to sleep shit there.” you turned to face him, your arms crossed over your chest. “Believe me, I’m doing you a favor. And either ways, what would I do, share bed with that…, kid? God I don’t even know what she is. No fucking way.” you said.

“Why don’t you sleep on the other room then? If you don’t, you won’t sleep either on that couch.” he said, and he seemed to have made a mistake by the way your whole body stiffened up.

“Just take the fucking bed, Joel.” you said and gave him your back once again, putting the tea herbs onto the water. He was about to speak again, but Ellie came out of the bathroom with a dazed and happy look on her face.

“That was amazing! There’s hot water!!!” she said, your clothes looking still a little big on her. But it’d do.

“I’m going to change the bed sheets. Finish up with the bathroom and give me all your dirty clothes to wash them up tomorrow morning.” you said as you got lost into the bedroom once again. And even if he tried, Joel’s eyes went back to that photo that had caught his attention since the very first second. A photo where you looked younger, healthier, brighter… Where you looked happier. Beside a girl that he hadn’t met yet. And probably never would.

It was late at night when Ellie had fallen asleep in between your comfy and warm sheets. Her wounds all cleaned up and her hair perfectly brushed. By the way she hadn’t moved even once in about three hours you expected her to sleep through the entire night without problems.

You had given the first-aid kit to Joel without a word. And he had taken it with the same silence standing in between the two of you.

You were sitting on the little balcony through the crystal doors on your salon. A cigarette in between your lips. How had you got them? It was a secret. You were sipping at your tea, looking down to the desolated streets. The lights were already out, saving energy in the night time, and the stars where shining so hard you swore you could get lost in them.

You exhaled smoke when you heard the chair in front of you move, who you supposed was Joel sitting in silence beside you.

He had taken out his own cigarettes, lighting up one and filling up his lungs with its smoke.

It seemed like hours after he finally spoke.

“Thank you.” your head turned to face him. He was looking at you with those serious brown eyes of his. He cleared his throat and looked away. “For uh…, everything.” you stared at him, no words leaving your lips. You nodded and went back to what you were doing before getting lost on your train of thought.

You unwrapped the bandages of your hands, the blood on them sticking to your skin as you ripped them off your new cuts and wounds.

It was always like this. You would get too far. Punch too strong. Do too much. And then it came the patching up, the bleeding, the pain…

The difference was that not a long time ago there was someone there for you to help you, to tell you to not overwork yourself, to clean your wounds for you… But now. It was just you and the silence of your solitary home.

You had extracted from your backpack new bandages and alcohol that you had found on the hospital where you had saved those two. A pair of scissors helping you cut the dressings to pieces.

Joel simply stared at you though the silence, though your curing, though your little flinches and hisses…

“You know… Staring too much at people is rude.” you said, finally speaking, finally letting him hear your voice for the first time in hours. You were like a ghost in your own home. Silent. Cold. Detached. Alone.

“You are rude either ways so I don’t care.” he answered, and you squinted your eyes at him. “Why do you do that?” he inquired.

“Do what?”

“That.” he pointed at your newly bandages hands, and you understood the real answer hidden under his words.

“Does it matter?” you asked him.

“No. I guess it doesn’t.”

“Good, ‘cause you are not my dad to lecture me.”

“I’m not old enough to be it.” he defended himself.

“If that’s what helps you sleep at night…” you shrugged. How old could he be? He was probably around his forties. Maybe fifties. He could probably almost catch Larry. You could see it on the white sparks on his hair, and the lines on his rough face.

“Staring too much is rude.” he threw your punch back at you, and you sighed in annoyance, taking a hit of your cigarette.

“Whatever. As you said, I’m already rude, so I don’t care.” he couldn’t help the little scoff that left him. You were smart. And knew how to bite. Also, you seemed clearly young, probably younger than what he was when the outbreak first happened, at his 32 years old.

You could feel his eyes on you, so you turned around to face him. You stood there, both staring at each other in complete silence. He was clean, his wounds bandaged up and already been taken care of by his expert hands. Larry’s shirt was a little bit tight on him, the muscle on his arms tightening the sleeves when he would cross them across his chest. His fingers held the cigarette to his lips, his grayish hair being blown just the slightest by the cold breeze of the night.

You finished off your cigarette right before he did, and took a sip of your almost cold tea, your eyes still completely open and awake. You knew this would be a very long night.

“You ain’t gonna go to sleep? You need more hours than us the young people, you know.” you inquired him as you lighted another cigarette.

He shook his head with a sarcastic smirk.

“I’m fine.” you nodded and fell into silence once again. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but neither comfortable at all. “Does this happen often to you?” he caught your attention and you frowned, not understanding. “Not being able to sleep.” your eyebrows perked up, surprised.

“Uhmm, yeah, I guess.” you mumbled, shrugging. “I’ve tried everything. Nothing ever worked for me.”

“I’ve got some pills if you want.” you looked at him with a stoic expression. “I too suffer insomnia. I got them from a guy I knew at FEDRA. They’re just sleeping pills.” he cleared it up once he had realized he had sound like a drug dealer.

You thought about it.

You looked at the pills once he had taken them out of his pocket, they were small and white, with a little moon shaped on them.

“I don’t do pills.” you said. You hadn’t had the courage to try them. Not if that meant that you would fall asleep and dream. “Thank you. But i’m fine.”

You couldn’t dream anymore. Not of that moment, not of…

“It’s alright.” he nodded, seeing the way your face had dropped. “But if you change your mind, just ask me.” you nodded, still looking at him.

You could sense that Joel didn’t speak much. That he was rough around the edges. But you had noticed too that Ellie had softened him out a little bit. He might look annoyed by that little kid but you had seen it in his eyes. The fear of loosing her when you had pointed your gun to her head.

It was all a façade. You knew how to recognize one when you too were living under one.

You looked away from him. It was just a stray. He’d probably leave after a couple of days. Maybe even tomorrow. And everything would be back to normal, you would be back to the lonely normality of your silent house and your scapes to the exterior.

You silently slipped out of your seat and put on your leather jacket as you stepped inside your apartment, combat boots heavy on the flooring.

You didn’t mutter a word on the way out. The only thing that Joel could hear before you disappeared was the sound of the door closing behind your back.

a/n; i hope y’all liked this first chapter xx, tell me your opinions! <3

joel miller masterlist !

pedro pascal masterlist !

<33

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lovelytsunoda · 1 year

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proud mary // han lue

summary: now living a quiet life with their daughter, han and y/n reflect on how they got there, and all the good moments that are still yet to come.

pairing: han lue x wife! reader

warnings: this is a big one so listen up: mentions of post pregnancy mental illness, mentions of pregnancy and starting a a family, weddings, ignoring tokyo drift canon because I fucking can, (actually I ignored a lot of canon) han is about to activate a shit ton of daddy issues

I left a good job in the city, working for the man every night and day and I never lost one minute of sleeping, I was worrying 'bout the way the things might've been.

big wheel keeps on turning, proud mary keeps on burning. and we’re rolling, rolling, rolling down the river

2009, tokyo, japan.

the garage was dark, lit only by the moonlight and the small lamps atop the workstations. han lue had closed up hours ago, and everyone was gone save for him and his lover.

“han, what are you doing?” y/n laughed, sitting at a table scattered with nail polish bottles and a shellac brisa light. “it looks like a smudge.”

“it’s a drifting car!” han laughed, staring through the large magnifying glass that was allowing him to see the design he was attempting to paint on his lovers thumbnail. “see, there’s the spoiler and those are the headlights!”

friday night manicures had become somewhat of a tradition. y/n hated painting her nails with her non dominant hand, but she also didn’t speak enough japanese to venture out and get her nails professionally done. when she and han started dating, he offered to do it for her, easing the aggravation that sometimes came with doing mail designs yourself.

“well, now that you’ve pointed it out.” she laughed, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”

they had been together coming up on two years. two long, wonderful years. she was a mechanic and he was drifter, it was almost meant to be. she stopped him from getting himself killed, and in return, he loved her unconditionally.

they were sympatico like that. she loved his sense of humour, his protectiveness. he loved her smarts and the excited way she talked, animatedly and with hand gestures.

“what do you say we get out of japan for a bit?”

han should have known this question was coming. y/n was a restless spirit, never meant to stay in one place for too long. in a way, han was as well. he could tell that his lover had been more restless than usual, either from missing home or needing a change of scenery.

“a friend of mine, his name is dominic torretto, he’s got this place down in the dominican republic.” han started slowly, unsure of how much he wanted to involved her in. y/n was his whole world, and what dom and mia would be running was far bigger than street racing in shibuya.“he called me the other day wondering if I would run a job with him. but it’s not entirely legal and I don’t blame you if you don’t want any part in it.”

“baby,” she frowned, placing her hand inside the blue light machine. “of course I’ll go with you. I never pass up a chance to go somewhere sunny, and you know that I’d go anywhere with you. what we’re running here with twinkie and sean isn’t exactly legal either, you know. I’m a big girl, seoul-oh. I can handle myself.”

“I know. I just want you to know what you’re getting into. you’re important to me, y/n.”

“I know.” she said softly, running her hand up his arm as she rested her head on his shoulder, gently kissing his neck. “so when does our flight leave?”

“whenever you want it to. I haven’t even bought the tickets yet. are you ready for an adventure?”

“fuck yeah.” y/n smiled, pressing her lips to his. “but you have to paint my other nails first.”

han laughed, the kind of laugh that would always set loose the butterflies in y/n’s chest, the kind that reminded her why she fell in love with him in the first place.

“I don’t think I have it in me to paint another drifting car.”

“then what are you going to paint on my thumbnail?” y/n laughed back, looking down at her nails and realizing that her lover had actually done a very good job painting a drifting car manicure.

“I don’t know,” han shrugged. he would deny it if asked, but he actually loved painting y/n’s nails. he thought it brought them closer together, built up intimacy in their relationship.

they were moments he wouldn’t trade for the world.

“I’ll just do like a checkered flag or something.”

“but you did that on my index finger!”

laughing, y/n turned her head to kiss him. “come on, you big dork. the sooner we get my nails done, she sooner I can model that new lingerie set I bought last weekend.”

“sold!” han laughed, knocking over bottles of gel polish as he searched for the bright pink he had used to paint the car on his girlfriends other hand. “drifting car? f1 car? whatever my gorgeous gorgeous girl wants.”

“I love you, han lue.”

“love you more, pretty girl.”

2010, monte carlo, monaco.

it was set up to be another sleepless night without her lover by her side, and y/n was having none of that as she wandered the deck of the comfortable yacht, looking around at the decorations that the crew had spent the day putting up.

she was just praying that it wasn’t going to rain.

nothing was about to spoil her big day.

she scurried below deck, past a half open door through which she could hear roman pearce’s guttural snores. fingers curled around the door knob, she tried not to make any noise as she eased the door open, slipping into the cabin.

“you couldn’t sleep either?” she laughed, looking at the king size bed where her fiancé lay, phone in his hands as he texted his mother, who the crew was picking up in the harbour in the morning before the ceremony began.

“got a lot on my mind.” han shrugged. “fucking tej won’t shut up about the reception and the playlist and I’ve told him a million times that it’s not going to be some crazy rave kinda thing.” the man sat up, gesturing for his soon-to-be wife to come closer. "it's doing my head in. seriously, he wants to do a club mix of 'i would do anything for love'."

y/n snorted. han thought she looked like an angel in the low cabin light, a halo glowing around her head and shining off her white silk pajamas, the ones with the tiny shorts and 'bride' embroidered on the butt. "how the fuck do you turn the best meat loaf song in existence into a club rave song?"

"the fuck if i know." han shook his head, hands sliding up her thighs as she came to stand in between his legs. "jagi, sarang-hae."

honey, i love you.

"mhm." she hummed, a smile on her lips as she leaned down to kiss him sweetly. "i love it when you speak korean. it's so fucking sexy."

the last year had been stressful. the dominican job had been way more complex than y/n had expected, and it took a while for han's old crew to warm up to her. it took a while, but eventually she managed to crack dom toretto, and two weeks later, han got down on one knee and asked y/n to marry him.

hence why they were on a yacht off the coast of monaco, the entire thing decked out in fairly lights and tulle.

"if you think tej is bad, you try getting in between letty and those large plastic ribbons on the back of the deck chairs." y/n laughed. "who knew letty ortiz was so serious about weddings?"

she was practically sitting on his lap now, head resting comfortably on his shoulder as the boat rocked back and forth.

han seoul-oh was her home. her safe harbour. she always felt safe in his arms, at his side, even when they were plunging into almost certain danger like they had in the dominican.

"i brought you something." y/n hummed, reaching into the pockets of her shorts and withdrawing the small cardboard packet.

"fake nails?"

"help me put them on? for old time's sake." she passed him the glittery white french tips, no doubt chosen to match her dress for the ceremony tomorrow.

"i can't wait to spend my life with you. and believe me, there will be plenty more manicure mondays."

2014, monterrey, california.

"daddy, where's mommy?"

"i don't think she's feeling well, poppy." han lue frowned, looking over at his daughter, who was perched in her little kiddie chair at the kitchen table. "i'm going to go check on her, okay? stay right here."

how do you explain depression to an infant? poppy jae-i han had been one of the best things to have ever happened to han seoul-oh. but in the almost twenty-four months since their bundle of joy had been born, something had felt off about his wife.

everyone hears about the mental health complications that can come with childbirth, but no mother ever thinks it would be her.

every husband fears it, too.

"y/n, jagi?" han tried to keep his voice level as he eased open the bedroom door. the couple had bought a ranch house in monterrey when they learned they were expecting. it was one of the few things they used their ill-gotten gains as a part of dom's crew for. "poppy's asking for you."

it broke his heart to see his wife like this, hair messed and greasy, red splotches under her eyes from where she had been crying.

"am i a bad mother, seoul-oh?" she asked, voice small. she seemed so tiny and fragile underneath the layers of blankets on the queen bed. "she always seems to cry when i'm around, but never with you. poppy loves you more than she loves me."

"what?" it was all han could do to stop himself from crying as he sat on the bed, gently running his fingers through y/n's hair. "sweetheart, what's brought this on? poppy loves you. you're her mom. she needs you."

"mia makes it look so easy." y/n sniffled, pulling herself up to a sitting position. she's lost weight. not a noticeable amount, or even an unhealthy one, but enough that her husband knows. there are many things that you can hide from the man you share your bed with, but han knows. he knows she's not doing well. "and i'm fucking shit at it, han."

"look at me, pretty girl." han encouraged, reaching for her hands. "you are such a good mother. i know you're struggling right now, and i know you're hurting but you need to know that poppy loves you so much. she was asking about you over breakfast, you know."

"i don't know who i am any more. i've lost my sense of self."

han frowned, brushing a few strands of greasy hair away from her forehead before leaning down and gently kissing her hairline.

"listen, i was talking to brian last night-"

"of course you were fucking talking to brian."

"-and he thinks you should talk to mia. they're passing through town today on their way back from dom and letty's, brian and i are going to take the kids out to the zoo or whatever, and you and mia should do something." he suggested, running his hand comfortingly up and down his lover's back. "go to the mall, get a coffee. i think she could really help you. she's been through this before."

y/n inhaled shakily, pulling away from han. "what if something happens to poppy and i'm not there?"

"y/n, everything is going to be okay. i promise. brian will be there, the kids will be in great hands. go do something with mia, darling. find yourself again, yeah?"

"okay." y/n nodded, still clutching his hand like it was her lifeline. "i can do that."

"mommy?" a small voice called. poppy had managed to get herself all the way from the kitchen to the master bedroom, where han had left the door ajar just in case poppy needed them. "are you okay?"

"oh, sweetheart, come here." y/n said, tears beginning to fall.

because how could she ever think that her little bundle of joy didn't love her as much as she did? poppy waddled over to the bed, and han hefted the toddler onto the mattress so that y/n could pull her close.

"you know that mummy loves you, right?"

"yes. i love you too, mommy."

"see." han smiled. "you're going to be okay. we're going to get through this."

2017, monterrey, california.

"i genuinely can't comprehend that roman pearce is getting married."

the family of three was walking down the nail care aisle at walmart, a welcome addition to their weekly shopping trip as y/n scanned the packages on the rack for a set of acrylic nails.

han laughed, one hand around his wife's waist and his chin on her shoulder as he leaned against the shopping cart. "it's not going to last. they may be getting married on saturday but i bet that by christmas roman is going to call and tell us she asked for a divorce."

"don't be so cynical." y/n laughed, kissing her husband softly before holding up a small white box. "do these go with my dress?"

"they'll go with anything, babe." han said, moving to whisper in her ear “they'd look even better wrapped around my c-"

"i want nails like mom's!" poppy han's shout cut him off, the little girl looking at the array of disney princess nails on the lower shelves.

laughing, han knelt down next his daughter, one hand on her shoulder. "which one do you want, princess? do you want frozen, tinker bell? mulan?"

"i want the ariel ones." poppy smiled, reaching for the pack of little mermaid nails. han helped her get them off the hook before lifting her up, carrying the six year old securely against his chest.

"seoul-oh, she's like six, you're spoiling her by carrying her all the time." y/n laughed, dropping both packs of nails in the cart.

"what, she's not heavy, sweetheart." han grins. "besides, i have to stay in shape somehow."

y/n rolls her eyes. "sweetie, it's bold of you to assume that you were ever in shape. but i loved you anyways, didn't i?"

back at home, they settled in the living room, near the large bay window. y/n watched contentedly from the kitchen as han sat at the coffee table across from poppy, delicately brushing nail glue across his daughter's tiny nails, dropping the glittery little mermaid nails on top.

it had taken a while to get to this peaceful, quiet part of their life, but y/n han was so glad that they had made it. that she had seoul-oh and that she had little poppy.

"be careful with your nails, they might come off. now, go get your homework done before we make the pizza, okay?"

poppy scurried off down the hall to her room, and y/n padded across the shag carpet, looping her arms around her husbands neck as she gave him a kiss.

"i'm so lucky, you know that. i'm happy and healthy again, and i have you and poppy. that's everything i could ever ask for." she said softly, resting her head against han's chest as the man tilted his head down, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head.

of course they both missed the good old days. the days of adrenaline and adventure. but brian and mia had left, and then y/n and han, and soon after was letty and dom. they were moving on with their lives, a chapter of glitz and glamour coming to a close.

"i want another one."

y/n froze, pulling back from her husband. "what?"

"i want another baby. and i know what we went through last time, and i fully understand if you're not willing to take that chance again, but god, y/n, i want a big family with you." han explained, holding his wife's hands. "poppy is growing up. soon she's going to be too cool for dear old dad. and then there will be boys-"

"or she'll be like you," y/n cuts him off with a laugh. "in which case there will be lots and lots of girls."

"god help us all. my little girl is going to break a lot of hearts one day."

"and you want another one?"

"honestly? yeah, i do."

"then i guess we'd better start trying. multiplication isn't that hard, so poppy's gonna be looking for us within the next hour." y/n hummed, kissing her lover softly.

han smiled against her lips, hands slipping into her jeans pockets to cop a feel of his wife's ass. "i only need half that."

TAGS:

@libraryofloveletters @magnummagnussen @mignonricciardo @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre @monzabee @scuderiamh @daydreamingleclerc @diorleclerc @oconso @cl16version

#han lue x reader #han seoul oh x reader #han seoul oh #fast and the furious x reader #fast and the furious #tina: the series by lovelytsunoda #han x reader #han lue #sung kang #Spotify

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hawkinsquarry · 25 days

Text

all things must pass (steve x reader)

summary: steve makes you leave him at the end of the world.

contains: steve x reader; gender unspecified reader; no pronouns used for reader; post-st4; unresolved angst; probably too much swearing :/

i miss this guy and i’m feeling insane over him so have some angst with an ambiguous ending 🫶🏻

Steve’s feet feel particularly heavy when we steps across your foyer. And the packet he has in his hands feels even heavier. He brushes off a few specs of ashes before slamming them down on the table in front of you, lazily eating cereal.

“What the hell is this?” you ask after a moment, grabbing the ledger on top. You know immediately it’s an airline ticket. It makes you feel sick and you push your Cheerios away as your eyes scan the details.

FROM-TO

IND > LA

You want to fucking kill him but you don’t have a chance as he breezes past, grabbing your suitcase out of your walk in closet.

“You depart in twelve hours,” he starts. He recited it in his head the entire way over to make the conversation easier, but the words are hard to get out. “Only take your essentials. When you’re there, a chauffeur will pick you up and take you to the - the - the location.”

“Steve, I’m not fucking going -“

“Yes, you are.” He says sternly. Like you’re a child.

“I’m not going anywhere without you!”

And he know this was coming - this cyclical argument you’ve been having for the last three weeks, your tears, the lump in his throat, uncertainly fogging both of your vision. But it doesn’t make it any easier, any less frustrating.

He says your name low and quiet. A plea. “This is safe. This is where the - the - the people I know told me to send you. That it’s the safest place.”

“And we’re trusting those people now?”

“No. W-well, yes! It - it’s - just - trust me, not them. Okay?” He settles your suitcase on the couch and starts moving around your living room for things he knows you’ll need. A blanket. Medicine. “Anywhere away from here is better, anyway.”

“So you admit it isn’t safe?”

Steve sniffles. “I never said it was.”

You follow him to your bedroom where he begins ripping clothes from your closet. He doesn’t miss the hoodie he leant you a few months ago. It’s laid on top of your suitcase with more shirts and pants.

You grab his arm and try to force it to fall back to his side, but he’s too strong, god damn him. “Steve, quit!” you beg, digging your heels into the ground and tugging on him. “I’m not leaving, Steve. I’m not going unless you go with me.”

“We talked about this.”

As nauseam, in fact. Until the ache in Steve’s throat was excruciating. Until your voice was hoarse and you were heaving. He’s not leaving, and you are.

You tug on him again. “I’ll keep talking about it until you listen to me!”

He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps moving back and forth between your closet and the suitcase. You cry, as hard as you try not to. You really are like a petulant child, stomping your foot, throwing a tantrum. You feel like it’s the only way he’ll listen, but you know the reality is that he still won’t.

“What about me?” you cry. You’re so angry at him, want to say something that’ll make him hurt. That’ll change the expression on his stoic face. You find it in you to refrain. “What about us, Steve?”

Keeps packing. Head down. Jaw clenched tight. He was ready for this fight when he walked in.

“Steve, let the goddamn military handle it. Do - do you honestly think you’re going to save the world?”

“No,” he snaps.

“Then what?”

He doesn’t answer because you already know why. Because he can’t leave Dustin, and Dustin can’t leave El, because apparently she can save the world. And Robin won’t leave Steve who won’t leave Dustin who won’t leave El. And Nancy fucking Wheeler won’t leave Mike who won’t leave El.

It makes you feel insane. Your blood boils and spills over, and over, and over, and it never just depletes. You keep going, keep arguing, trying to talk him out of it until your voice is hoarse. It’s hoarse now, in fact. Last night Steve held you until you shut up, until you cried yourself to sleep, and you had no idea he had already got you a plane ticket out of here. You feel so betrayed it makes your stomach twist and chest ache.

“I can’t live without you,” you try. It’s the third time you’ve pulled this and it seems to get him the most. “Steve, I don’t know what I’d do if - if….”

Steve bites his cheek, stilling, his hands clutching one of your sweaters.

“Why don’t you care?” you push.

He sniffles again, pinches his nose. You’d prefer it if he’d just let himself cry. He’d give in, then, if he let his emotions take over.

“Don’t you love me?”

“Jesus, yes,” he grits, finally looking at you. His eyes are red. “Why do you think I’m makin’ you leave, huh? Why do you think I’m staying?”

“Because you think you’re something you’re not!”

He runs a big hand through his hair so harshly you fear it’ll get tugged out. He walks towards you, holding his arms out, murmuring, “honey,” and as much as it pains you, you back away.

“Don’t,” you say sharply. Your throat aches. “Don’t do that, Steve.”

“I love you.” He sounds exhausted. “I love you, please believe me.”

“If you love me, then come with me.”

“There won’t be a world for us to live in unless we stop this.”

“You aren’t going to save the world.” You’re so desperate for him to listen to you. “The chances are so slim, Steve. Why can’t we love each other while we have time?”

Steve takes a shaky breath. “I won’t let you die without doing something about it first.”

You stare at each other. It’s suddenly dawning on you that nothing you’ll do will ever change his mind. That his chances of living through the next few days are slim. That this is the last time you’ll get to see him. While he’s packing for you and forcing you to take a plane to California.

There’s nothing romantic about it. It’s not like what you’ve seen in the movies you rented from Family Video when Steve had a shift. Before he was yours. When you went because the forest green vest looked so good on him, and he always had some goofy recommendation, and he let his hands touch yours when giving you your change for a moment too long.

You’ve hardly even had him.

“So that’s it?” You can hardly hear yourself.

“I’m doing this for you. I’m doing everything for you. And - and i-if it works, I swear I’ll make it up to you. I swear, angel.”

You shake your head, hot tears making their way down your jaw. “No.”

He stills. Looks a little like a deer in headlights. Caught off guard, shocked. Mouth parting slightly before closing again, like he wants to argue but can’t.

What is there to say?

“If you make me get on that plane, Steve….” You shake your head again, swallowing the ache in your throat down.

You stare at each other again. His eyes are one of your favorite things about him. Those saccharine, chestnut and moss colored irises. They scrunch up when he laughs. You used to think about leaving Hawkins and moving somewhere nice, so far away from all of this that Steve grows up to have crows feet around his eyes. That you’d be the one who put them there. And this is the last time you’ll see them.

“You have to go,” he eventually sniffles.

“Please,” you try, for the final time.

He blinks slowly, frowning, chest rising and falling slowly. “I love you,” he whispers. “Please believe me.”

You’re not sure if you can.

#steve harrington x reader #han posts #steve x reader

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rillils · 4 months

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STEVE & BUCKY'S LOVE STORY, UNABRIDGED SOMEWHAT ABRIDGED, part 2/3 (here is part 1)

picking up from where we left off:

some 65 years into the future, steve's plane is fished out of the ice, and they find him, frozen like a sexy hot-dayum popsicle, but still alive thanks to the same super serum that made him go from Smol to Lorge.

steve is thus brought back into the world, but it's a world he no longer recognizes after all these years; a world where all the people he used to know and love are long dead, and his own face has been turned into a tool for propaganda over the years. obviously, he has a hard time adjusting, and he turns to fighting again, joining this group of kinda possibly superheroes, aka the avengers.

lots of exciting new things happen, sure; but steve is still pretty miserable. until one day, a mysterious masked assassin dressed in bondage gear (but not really), and sporting one very shiny metal arm (!!!!), is sent to kill steve's sort-of-boss. and then to kill steve himself. oh no!!

in what is possibly the most gripping, most visually pleasing hand-to-hand fight sequence in the history of cinema,

(NO BUT SERIOUSLY, all jokes aside, if you've never watched it then please do bc it's!!! *shrieks* so fucking good!!!)

a fight sequence which also happened to unlock both steve's and an entire fandom's competence kink with that little sexy knife-flipping trick alone -- i know you know what i'm talking about, don't you lie to me babes--

as i was saying, steve manages to knock the mask off of his opponent's face. and who do you think appears before him? can you guess??

DING DING DING!!! EXACTLY!!! IT'S HIS LONG-LOST BAE BUCKY! who apparently doesn't recognize him??

confused and upset, steve fights to uncover the truth. turns out, the man is indeed the very same bucky he grew up with and loved. only, he didn't actually die in that tragic fall in the ravine; rather, due to the experiments performed on him while he was a war prisoner, he survived long enough to be found and captured by the enemy. who then proceeded to torture and brainwash him, using him as a tool for murder against his will, and literally putting him back in the freezer when they didn't need him.

which, as it happens, is how he stayed so young in the first place: he, uh, spent the better part of 70 years frozen. yeaaah, are the parallels paralleling or what, hmmmm?? preserved in ice like your mom's best lasagna from last week? plunging to a 'death' that isn't really a death? waking up in the future kinda screwed over? :D

ANYWAY

steve is even more devastated than before, now that he's learned that while he was asleep in the ocean, bucky was out there suffering. when he finally confronts bucky again (and it's fucking epic and also fucking heartbreaking, believe you me) steve is desperate to bring bucky, his bucky, back. knowing in his heart that his bae is still somewhere in there, no matter how deeply buried.

in the most critical moment(TM), steve chooses to stay behind, on a plane that's about to fucking blow up around them - just like bucky did for him all those years ago - because if he can't save bucky, then he'd rather die with him.

only, bucky is scared and confused af at the moment, and he attacks steve, because 1) he has a mission after all, he's supposed to kill this guy dammit, and 2) wtf is even going on here??? who IS this man, WHY does he keep saying that they've known each other their whole lives?? and WHY does bucky feel like he's actually seen him somewhere else before?????

AND HERE IS THE PIVOTAL MOMENT OF ALL PIVOTAL MOMENTS: for the first time in his life, steve refuses to fight back. like he literally drops his shield out of the plane and into the river underneath, in a very powerful and symbolic gesture, signifying his surrender: he's not going to hurt bucky anymore, no matter what. THIS FUCKER LITERALLY LETS BUCKY BEAT HIM TO A PULP, WITHOUT EVEN TRYING TO DEFEND HIMSELF, 100% ready to let bucky kill him if that's what's gonna happen here, because that's still better than living in a world where bucky's gone - a world where bucky will look at him and only see a target, or a stranger at best.

and then!!!!

no this is like, this is THE most romantic shit, okay, like you could try to convince me that it isn't for the next hundred years and i wouldn't buy it, because. BECAUSE.

at the very last moment, steve finally manages to break through bucky's brainwashing, breaking the metaphorical spell bucky was under. and do you know how he does that? i ask you, do you know how steve does that, my love?

by repeating to bucky the very same words bucky offered him way back in the beginning, when he proposed asked steve to move in together. till death do us part the end of the line, baby. romeo could NEVER

bucky, who was about to deal the fatal blow, freezes instantly, finally recognizing the man under him.

and when steve falls out of the plane, bucky jumps after him, instinctively saving his life instead.

but bucky can't stay. confused, wounded, vulnerable, and only just beginning to remember who he used to be and what was done to him, he slips away and hides from steve - and from all the other people who might be looking for him, and probably want him dead. you think this is gonna stop steve, though?? now that he knows that bucky is still alive, and that he remembers him??? now that he knows that bucky's not lost to him forever?? AS IF!!

(to be continued in part 3)

#stucky #stevebucky #i have literally no idea how to tag this but???????#the silly stucky recap you didn't ask for #part 2 :D #catws #rillers scribbles

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misc-obeyme · 5 months

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So uh. Lesson 38. Man I swear it was just yesterday I was writing the post about Lesson 37?! Augh.

Okay, spoilers below, and be prepared 'cause it was another CRAZY CRAZY LESSON. No I didn't take another 100 screenshots why would you think that? Also I apologize, this is another rather unhinged post.

OKAY NEW THEORY.

"Father" is Nightbringer! Right?!? Tell me I'm not alone in thinking this might be the case!!

Okay, so maybe not, but we had so much Father talk this lesson!! Way more than any other, I'd say!

And I hated it?!?

Okay lemme backtrack a bit.

So, we got Lucifer in ice and chains and he's yelling at his Father saying what do you want, you never tell me anything, give me a sign!

And then he breaks out of his chains, but he's completely out of control! And then DIAVOLO shows up.

SIR. There is just something about Diavolo in full demon form, getting all angry and ready to fight... But I don't think I've ever seen Diavolo with an ominous aura like that?? I can't remember for sure, but I swear it doesn't happen too often. Anyway, he straight up fights with Lucifer to try to calm him down.

The girls are fighting! I didn't crop this bottom image as much as I usually do because I need you all to see how BIG these two are in their full demon forms like this. All those wings...

Note that the angels and MC are watching all of this from the sidelines... and then Simeon blesses MC and I am in love with him and his beautiful face.

YOU are the only one making me swoon at the moment though.

Anyway, then all the bros show up and save the day! I was like yeah, that checks out. Lucifer & Diavolo are going at it and MC tries to get in the way, but it's not enough until all the others show up, too. As soon as Lucifer sees his brothers are all right, he calms down.

Asmo suggests a hug and Lucifer AGREES. They have a group hug where Lucifer is clearly pulling everyone into it himself. He apologizes to MC (!!) and THEN as if all this wasn't enough, MC's ring starts to glow and Lucifer turns into his angel form!!

Once again uncropped so you can see this ridiculous mf and all his wings.

Diavolo is smitten.

And he kneels!!!!!!

He kneels to Lucifer in angel form!!!! And all the others do too!!!!!

I lost my goddamn mind at this part. And Lucifer's like I don't understand why is this happening? And Simeon is like, "he" heard you and this is your answer. He wants you to feel his love and his forgiveness and blah blah blah (I'm paraphrasing). But I need to tell you all this even though I don't normally go into this much detail and here is why.

FUCK THAT GUY.

This is "his" way of showing Lucifer that he loves him?!?!

Diavolo, get off your knees, you are not helping this situation!!!

Okay, okay, let me calm down.

Here is why this bothers me so much. And please note that this just my personal opinion and the way it all came off to me! I'm totally open to hearing other opinions on it.

I hate this because it makes no sense. This is the same Father that was going to kill Lilith, the same one who allowed the brothers and Lucifer, the one he supposedly loves so much, to fall in the first place.

I don't care if Michael is the one behind everything. If their Father guy can do this, then there's no way he couldn't also prevent all of this.

The only way I'm going to give him a chance at all is if they somehow make it so that he can't do much at all. He's trapped or something. Michael is truly the mastermind behind it all and Father is doing what he can from where he is (like imprisoned or something).

Because otherwise, this makes no sense.

AND WASN'T I RIGHT?? It turned out that the whole thing was orchestrated by the Celestial Realm AND the Devildom! The three worlds have an agreement - powerful beings can be imprisoned in Cocytus for their crimes if at least two representatives out of three agree. One from the Celestial Realm did. This was confirmed by Simeon, who went back briefly to ask Michael. However, Michael wouldn't tell him who did it.

NO. You can't be content with that! Michael obviously knows who it was!! So why would he protect them?? Or is he protecting himself?!?

And then someone from the Devildom did, too! But instead of just being like oh well, guess it's a mystery, Diavolo blames himself and says he's doing everything he can to find out who did it. My money is on the House of Lords.

So they were in cahoots, as I suspected!

Anyway, I just don't understand what all of this was supposed to accomplish for Lucifer's character. If they want to make us question the Celestial Realm, then yo I was already on that train! This whole situation certainly makes Michael look very suspicious. And Lucifer goes on and on later about how he must have forgotten about his father's love and blah blah. And I'm like what???

Also this whole part where Lucifer was dreaming or whatever and the brothers were angels:

Levi says "Our orders always come through Michael." That's the crux of this whole thing. We don't know enough about the state of "Father" to really know for sure.

Again, if it turns out that "Father" isn't terrible and somehow had no say in all the bad things that are happening and was truly trying to help Lucifer, then fine. I can accept that. But from where things are right now, it seems more like "Father" can't let Lucifer go and in this case, that's making things worse for Luci.

Do you really think giving Lucifer back his angel form long enough for everyone to be in awe and even make Diavolo kneel is somehow helping him? Because I disagree. Leave Lucifer alone already.

Though he then passes out and sleeps for quite a while.

And oh! Okay, here is my favorite part hee hee:

Obviously I squealed a lil when he showed up! They were all stuck in Cocytus and couldn't figure out how to get home. And someone was like "if only Barbatos could portal us home" and then this happened.

My knight in shining armor 😭

He's so practical. I'm in love with him.

Then we make a pact with Lucifer. AND THIS MOTHERFUCKER.

Flashbacks to the OG, anyone?? I guess he would still lie to himself like this, we are in the past after all. And I think he genuinely believes that MC is his at first. What a delusional simp he turns out to be, though, huh?

And then!!

Cocytus Hall is destroyed because of course it was named that due to being built on top of the entrance to Cocytus. What was the point of that exactly? Why wasn't it just Purgatory Hall from the start?? I don't know.

Hard Lesson:

Diavolo, Barbatos, Mephisto, and all the Little Ds are discussing the destruction of Cocytus Hall and that's when we find out they rebuild it into Purgatory Hall.

We also see Little D No 1 who makes an appearance for the first time. Barbatos says he wasn't able to maintain a physical form up until now. Diavolo speculates it's because their "Father" couldn't let Lucifer go before.

I do not understand this "Father" at all. I'm so confused about it and it's making me crazy (in case you couldn't tell).

Yeah, we got to make a pact with Lucifer. We got to kiss him. It's heavily implied we did some other stuff with him, too.

But this lesson was mostly about Father and his love and to me that all seemed to come out of freakin' nowhere. Especially since last I checked, it was Father who caused all of this bullshit to begin with???

I don't actually think "Father" is Nightbringer, but wouldn't that be interesting? Father of all demons is also the father of all angels? Why would they be different entities? Maybe they're two halves of the same whole? Maybe they're siblings?

I just don't know.

Yeah that's how I felt when Simeon and the angels were like okay see ya we're going back to the Celestial Realm! It's okay, Barb saved us. At least he seems to be chill about things.

And Solomon told the brothers he wasn't going to take MC back to the human world right away, so it's not the end yet. But can we go back now? I want to! I swear by now, I'd have confronted Barbatos because I think he knows what's going on and couldn't he just take me back to the present without all these other shenanigans? And make Solomon come back with me too, obviously. In fact, past!Barb can come too. You can never have too many Barbs!

Okay I'm devolving into nonsense. I just don't know how I feel about any of this. It's not making sense and I really hope that the next lesson clears some of this up for me.

#oof sorry once again this mostly unhinged ranting #I'm sure you're all used to that by now though #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me spoilers #obey me nightbringer spoilers #obey me lesson 38 #obey me nightbringer lesson 38 #obey me lucifer #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon #obey me barbatos #misc lesson recap #misc rambles

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whumpbby · 9 months

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I'm kinda disappointed that there's so very few fics exploring the Core Transfer as an opportunity for Weird Shit happening.

Like, want it or not, JC is the single person in the world that successfully underwent an insane experimental medical procedure and how is that not something to explore? Wen Quing didn't supply a handy guide with negative effects, did she?

Imagine if the word got out that Sect Leader Jiang can unsheathe and use Suibian - gasp! Is he the reincarnated Yiling Patriarch?! That's why he was so bent on killing demonic cultivators, to hide himself?!

Or, hey, if somehow it got out that he has Wei Wuxian's core? Wouldn't demonic cultivators keep crawling out of the woodwork to get their hands on the core of their Idol? Wouldn't there be people ready to experiment on the only available specimen - people who lost their cores to Wen Zhuliu, or those who wanted to get cores without having to work for it, or people too old to start cultivating... There'd be plenty of folk ready and willing to discover how the Core Transfer works to achieve power.

Fuck, imagine JGY learning about it ahead of time and giving Changmei the go ahead to discover how Jiang Cheng regained his core? If they could work out how to melt cores and how to transplant them - the power in their hands would be insane!

Imagine Wei Wuxian coming back to life in a world where JC has been on the experimenting table for some time now, and one step of Huaisang's plan is for Wwx to discover it and save JC, and hope he will be able to testify...

(Jin Guangyao, feeling a bit sad as he visits the "lab" and seeing the co-parent of his child nephew, the man he learned to respect, the man he drank innumerable cups of tea with as they discussed and argued and gossiped across the tables in Lanling or Lotus Pier... Seeing the man strapped down to a stone table, cut open, mumbling nonsense as his loose hair drags over the floor, soaked in blood and carelessly stepped on as Changmei excitedly circles the table... It's a shame, truly.)

Or, the new core not sitting entirely right in the new cradle, some of the veins didn't connect right (Wen Quing was working fast, in a field, with one patient barely alive and the other actively dying, only her brother to help her, she couldn't catch every single strand!) and that results in some qi overflow. In effect JC radiates qi - the more he uses, the bigger the spill; the bigger the spill, the more ghosts and ghouls are drawn to him. The man is a walking ghost-flag. His Night Hunts go by fast, he steps into the forest and the monster of the month is already waiting. (That's why he was so annoyed at JL with the mountain hunt! What do you mean you can't find the ghost? Never happened to me! Sight, nets it is!) But Jin Ling loves hugging jiujiu, because it's always so warm...

I just - it's such a crazy premise, I need some off the wall take on itTT

#mdzs #jiang cheng #golden core transfer #but make it weird #headcanons #headcanon

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loveharlow · 8 days

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SEVEN [SEASON 2] - 001

PAIRING ‧₊˚ JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS‧₊˚[10.9k] A whole month after John B and Sarah vanish at sea and the remaining four pogues are in for a jaw-dropping surprise that flips their world upside down (or right side up?) and it looks like they might be finding a way to the Bahamas

WARNING(S)‧₊˚ swearing, mentions of death, mentions of firearms, graphic depictions of drowning, unestablished relationship

NOW PLAYING‧₊˚

A/N‧₊˚ woohoo season two!!

˗ˏˋ series masterlist ˎˊ˗

IT’S BEEN A MONTH SINCE JOHN B AND SARAH WERE LOST AT SEA. Nothing had been easy. At all. You hadn’t seen your mother since that night and you doubted she’d be eager to get you back home. You, Marley, and JJ had been holed up at The Chateau, honoring it for John B.

You and JJ have been bussing tables down at The Beach Club to keep the lights on and the water running, making a return to Pogue life actually offered you some odd kind of comfort. It had to have been around half past nine when the two of you arrived at work, getting yelled at for simply walking in late, aprons thrown at your chests.

Serving rich folks wasn’t the worst thing in the world. Well, at least when those rich folks weren’t talking about your two deceased - presumably deceased friends.

JJ was serving one half of the outdoor dining area as you tended to the other, both of you making your best efforts to keep your heads down as the guests badmouthed your friends.

“Of course it was a Pogue. Did you expect anything less?”

“He’s a murderer.”

“I’m glad he’s dead.”

Ever since John B and Sarah vanished, dealing with the pricks of Figure Eight had given you a much shorter fuse. Every other day — an argument with a customer here, a borderline fist fight there. It was as if all someone had to do was say or do the wrong thing at the wrong time and boom.

And today was one of those days.

You took a deep breath, approaching Topper’s table with your notepad in hand ready to take their orders when the girl at the left edge spoke, voice laced with disgust for a boy she never knew.

“You should be glad.” She directed at Topper. “John B got what was coming to him. And it saved them the expense of a trial…” She shrugged, sipping her mimosa as if the words that tumbled from her lips were casual. And they were. Casually cruel. “John B’s going to hell for what he did to Peterkin.”

Your notepad slapped against your thigh as you let your arms fall, head rolling to the side. Topper’s mouth opened immediately, noting your expression of annoyance as the table you were waiting on continued to converse as if you weren’t there or as if they had no idea who you were. “Guys, they’re still investigating…” He tried, laughing nervously.

“John B didn’t kill Peterkin.” You spat, eyes glued to the girl who took another sip of her drink, eyes fleeting before they came back to you, looking you up and down. She chuckled, stirring the small black straw around the circumference of her glass.

“There’s no need to defend a dead guy, sweetie.” She taunted you as if you were a child. “We all know your friend was a murderer.”

“You wanna see a real murderer?” You interrupted, leaning forward and planting your palms down in the wood of the table. “Take your Corvette down to Tannyhill and you’ll find two.”

Topper scooted his chair closer to you, laying a palm on top of yours. “C’mon, just…walk away.” You stood back up to your full height, snatching your hand from up under his with a look of pure disgust written on your face.

“Get the fuck off me, Topper.” You spat, the table rattling underneath your swift movements.

“Is everything alright over here?” JJ’s voice came from over your shoulder. You made no moves to look back at him, still glaring at the three assholes crowding the table.

“Your girl’s over here losing her shit.” Kelce chipped, always looking to pick a fight where he could. “Might wanna look into a leash. Maybe a muzzle, too-”

“The fuck’d you say?” JJ challenged, stepping out from behind you as Kelce rose from his seat. The two were toe to toe at this point.

“Now is not the time…” Topper tried, standing from his own seat but you blocked his path.

“Why don’t you sit down, Top?” You said, less of a question, more of a warning. The boy didn’t respond, simply looking down at you as he prodded the inside of his cheek with his tongue. As you two stared each other down, the other two boys got even more heated.

“Do something, JJ. Be a Pogue, man. That’s what got your friend killed, maybe you’ll get lucky-” Kelce’s words were cut off when JJ took a pitcher of water and threw it in his face, Kelce grabbing the blonde up by his collar as Topper went around you and attempted to intervene.

Within seconds, some of the older male guests pulled the young men apart. Raz, the manager, wasting no time in yelling both you and JJ’s names. The older, dark-haired man stood feet away watching the interaction occur. But he was never one to scold his high paying guests.

You and JJ both nodded in his direction in silent agreement, reaching around yourselves to untie the aprons and shove them into the manager's chest.

“You ready?” JJ directed at you. You simply grimaced and nodded, shrugging your shoulders.

“Let’s go.”

With that, you both walked out of The Beach Club and into the parking lot where JJ’s motorcycle was parked. Halfway there, JJ’s heavy breathing stopped you in your tracks, looking to your left to see the blonde with a hand pressed against his chest.

He’d suffered from panic attacks here and there after everything that had happened. You’d been helping him through them to the best of your ability. He refused to tell Kie or Pope about them, you suggesting he do so in case they happened when you weren’t around, something you weren’t completely on board with. But it was JJ’s decision.

Setting a hand on his shoulder to stop him from walking, you rounded to stand in front of him. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah….” He breathed out, hand still on his chest as he shook his head. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

“JJ.” You tried to ground him, stepping a bit closer. “Fuck those assholes in there, okay? They don’t know shit.”

“I know.” He nodded, gulping in whatever air he could gather in his lungs, shaking himself out of the oncoming panic attack.

“Alright?” You asked, needing to affirm that he was okay. He responded nonverbally with a strong nod before motioning for the both of you to continue walking. Reaching the bike, JJ handed you the helmet he’d bought you, letting you mount the back of the bike as he slipped his own helmet on and threw himself in front of you.

You wound your arms around his waist as he started up the motorcycle, the vehicle jumping to life underneath you both as he sped off, not before letting the back tire dig a hole into the soil of the plants decorating the Club’s parking lot.

RETURNING TO KILDARE COUNTY HIGH SCHOOL WASN’T EXACTLY ONE OF YOUR TOP PRIORITIES AT THE MOMENT. You didn’t exactly know what to expect when walking through the doors but you figured it couldn’t be that bad…

You figured wrong.

You and JJ had just pulled up behind Kie’s SUV in your newly revived Ford Bronco, car doors slamming almost simultaneously as you all got out. Nothing had felt the same in the past few weeks. And you meant nothing. Walking into school used to be no big deal. Now it felt like a task to keep your head down.

Kie and Pope had been a few times since everything went down, so the kids were more focused on you and JJ.

The students gawked at the two of you like escaped zoo animals, pointing and whispering. Some not making any effort to conceal their gossip.

“I wasn’t sure they’d ever show up.”

“I heard they got arrested.”

“That wouldn’t surprise me.”

You heard Kie sigh heavily, trying to keep looking ahead. But looking ahead only made things worse.

The school had this big rock that sat in the middle of the front yard. It was blank before, maybe save for some graffiti here and there. Now, it was covered with pictures of John B and all sorts of memorabilia. For kids who all thought he was some kind of murderer, they were quick to write his name in spray paint and take pictures next to a glamorized rock.

“Think they had something to do with it?”

“They had to.”

Even now, the whispers and staring eyes were such a slap in the face. John B was everything to all of you and the audacity of all these kids who’d been going to school with you all for years to think you had something to do with anything that happened to him or what they were trying to say he did…

It made you so angry.

“Fuck this.” You spat, hiking your backpack further up your shoulder. “I’m not staying here for this shit.” You declared, ready to turn on your heels and leave. You didn’t have to stay here and be these kids' mascot for the day. You’d take summer school over this. You hadn’t even taken a full step away before a hand on your shoulder was pulling you back.

You looked up to see JJ, glaring at him with squinted eyes and a hard expression “Don’t leave.” He pleaded, looking you in the eyes. “Six hours.” He said. “Okay, you just have to sit through it for six hours and we can leave, go back to The Chateau, make noodles and watch that reality show you love so much.”

You stood there for a moment, not saying anything until Kie piped up. “He’s right. We gotta stick together.” You figured they were right. The four of you had already lost one friend. Better not to abandon who’s left.

You sighed. “...Okay.” You huffed. They all smiled smally. None of you had really smiled much anymore. But it gave you the smallest piece of hope that maybe one day everything would feel normal again.

“...AND THE SLAVE BECOMES THE NEW RULER.” Mr.Sunn read aloud, back facing the class as you took notes, trying to avoid the frequent fleeting eyes of your classmates made it a lot easier to do your schoolwork than you thought. You could still feel the stares, but as long as you didn’t see them, you couldn’t get upset, which means you didn’t do anything “impulsive” as Pope put it. “Now, Diocletian splits the sprawling Roman Empire-” The teacher’s words were cut off by a chorus of phones going off at once, the chimes all similar to yours, Kie’s, Pope’s, and JJ’s. You knew for sure that one of them was yours, the desk vibrating underneath your hand. “-Into four separate kingdoms.” He finished, now facing the class, eyes scanning the room. “...Whose phone was that?”

You remained silent, stealthily sliding the device off the desk as you sat your face in your free palm. “...Nobody?” The educator continued to press. “You will be tested on this.” He warned before nodding, turning back around to the chalkboard. “Now, who was Diocletian? An ex-slave who became the ruler of the Roman Empire…”

You leaned back in your chair as the man continued teaching, opening your phone to reveal a notification.

Unknown Number

1 iMessage

You looked up at your friends, Kie the closest to you whispering. “Did you get it?” She asked all of you. You nodded in her direction. Who’d be group texting the four of you only? Sure, you had your fair share of trolls since everything went down, but nobody had said much recently.

You and JJ shared looks, being the farthest two across the room, you both got out of your seats and crept quietly over to Pope and Kie, crouching in between the two. You all opened the text simultaneously, an image being the first thing to pop up.

It made your heart stop. It was a picture of Sarah and John B. A picture you’d never seen before.

“Oh my God…” Kie whispered, straightening in her seat. You and JJ shared a look, being the first two to practically bolt out of the classroom, Kie and Pope lagging behind. You darted out into the hall, almost bum rushing a janitor.

“There’s no way it’s real, right?” You panted, trying to keep with the blonde as the other two caught up. “Right?” You asked again as the four of you burst through the doors to the courtyard.

“I mean, is that even possible?” Kiara added, skipping down the steps. “Shoupe said that they didn’t make it. That’s what he said.” She worried, throwing her school bag down on the nearest table. There were only two people out here, a couple minding their own a handful of feet away.

You sat on the table top as you all crowded around one another, phones still in hand. “Maybe we’re overreacting right now ‘cause we can’t rule out the possibility that this could all be some kind of sick joke.” Pope said as he and JJ sat on a table across from you and Kie.

“What if it’s actually him, though?” JJ proposed, leaning his elbows on his thighs.

“We'll never know unless we ask.” You said with finality in your voice, opening up the text thread and typing.

You

Is this really you?

Moments of silence went by before you saw those three dots start to bounce on the screen. “He’s typing.” You perked up, eyes looking up from the screen for a moment when you heard the reply come in.

Unknown

Is JJ there?

Your brows furrowed, looking up from your phone and instead at the blonde looking down at his own. You saw him typing with a serious expression written across his face.

I’m here Bree

Moments went by once more as the person on the other end typed, it felt like you were all waiting for a bomb to go off when your phones chimed once more.

Unknown

Did you pimp my shortboard?

Silence went by for a few seconds before you all chuckled, one after the other. The saddest yet relieved chuckles you had let out in the last month.

“It’s him.” You tearfully laughed out, throwing your head back to look at the sky gratefully for a brief moment. You could feel tears in your eyes but they weren’t enough to fall down. Bringing your head back down, you looked over at Kie, both of you sharing bright smiles and throwing yourselves into a hug.

You released one another to go over to the guys. JJ had stood at some point and you couldn’t stop yourself from jumping on the blonde, wrapping your legs around his waist and arms around his neck as he held you tightly and spun you around, cheering.

You couldn’t contain your watery laughter, still latching to the boy when one of your arms reached out to dap up Pope. You unwound yourself from JJ, the Maybank boy setting you down gently. Your noses brushed against one another as he let you slide down the length of his body, your breathing hitching for a moment before you backed away.

Your phones chimed again, another message coming through.

Unknown

Laying super low in Nassau

“How the hell did they get to the Bahamas?” Kiara inquired, browns pinched together as she stared at the text on screen.

JJ just shrugged, a lazy smile on his features. “Can’t kill a pogue, dude.” He said gleefully, you and Pope laughing along. He had a point. Shoupe made it seem like John B and Sarah had zero chances of making it in that storm. But you figured his word was never to be trusted. Your thoughts were interrupted when your phone buzzed again.

Unknown

Can you clear my name? Wanna come home

You couldn’t do anything but roll your eyes, a sassy smile on your face. “Duh, we’ll clear his name. Is he joking?” You proclaimed. You’d torch the Sheriff’s Station if it meant John B could come home.

Unknown

Be in touch. P4L.

The four of you looked at the boy’s last text with smiles, JJ being the first to cheer. “P4L, man. That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” He cheered, snatching the baseball cap off of his head. The blonde jumped up on the empty table, the three of you laughing at his display of excitement. “P4L, baby!”

THE FOUR OF YOU HAD DECIDED TO DITCH THE REST OF THE SCHOOL DAY, going to the docks behind The Wreck. You were still kind of reeling. You don’t know how to describe the feeling of having someone you love basically come back from the dead, even if the dead part was only really in your mind.

“So, we goin’ to the Bahamas or what?” JJ asked, throwing his bag on the wooden bench as Pope and Kie sat down.

The brown-haired girl scoffed, leaning back on her hands. “There’s absolutely no way we’re getting to the Bahamas.” She dismissed the blonde, shaking her head.

“Well, John B is gonna get cuffed sooner rather than later.” You chipped in, standing with your arms crossed and eyes squinted from the harsh sun, the wind blowing your hair. “If we’re gonna clear his name, we have to do it, like, now.”

“I’ll tell you how we can do it.” JJ said, leaning over the wooden railing.

“Oh, you have it all planned out?” Pope poked, eyeing the blonde with a usual amount of skepticism.

“As a matter of fact, I do.” JJ stood up straight, in front of the three of you as if he was presenting. His usual level of theatrics returning in full swing. The thought made you smile a bit. “We kidnap Rafe.” That made your smile fall.

“I’m sorry.” You waved your hands in front of you, a look of bewilderment written across your face. "What?”

“We kidnap Rafe, tie him up and stick the gun in his mouth,” He reiterated, using his hands to mimic a gun. “And just wait ‘til he starts squawking.”

“Y’know, under other circumstances, I’d be fully on board with that.” You shrugged, looking at the other two who looked at you just as shocked as they were looking at JJ. “What? What’d I do?” You asked, to which they simply shook their heads.

“You know, torture’s a war crime.” Kie informed, eyes locked on you and JJ specifically.

“Yeah,” Pope added, agreeing with her. “So, how exactly do you plan to clear John B’s name from a prison cell? Because that’s a felony.”

“Okay, well, what ideas do you two have?” You asked, shifting your weight and giving the two opposers the floor.

“All we need is a material witness.” Pope put on the table. “We saw Ward’s plane fly right above our heads with the gold inside of it. He didn’t fly it. If somebody else flew, they were there on the tarmac. They saw Peterkin get murdered.” He explained, you and JJ both taking a seat as he continued on. “We just have to find whoever that was and get them to confess on record.”

Kie shrugged from her spot, her brown eyes on Pope. “How are we supposed to do that?”

Pope pondered on the question for a moment, head bobbing as he did so. “...A little light espionage.”

JJ smiled from his place next to you, sliding the baseball cap over his mess of blonde strands. “A little ghost recon.”

KIE TOOK IT UPON HERSELF TO DRIVE THE FOUR OF YOU DOWN TO THE PILOT’S HOUSE. It didn’t take much to figure out who he was — some middle aged white-man named Gavin, lived a couple miles out in a small house with his wife. You were all still on the road, still a good twenty minutes from your destination.

“If this guy flew planes for Ward, he'd be pretty tight-lipped.” Pope said from the passenger seat, Kiara driving with you and JJ in the back. There was still a lingering cloud over you two but nothing that hindered the friendship. Or whatever it was now.

“So, then direct approach gets my vote.” JJ said simply, cocking back the gun you didn’t even know he’d brought with him. Although, you weren’t surprised.

“JJ, no.” Pope scolded him like a child. “Put the gun down, man.”

“We gotta keep this simple or else we’ll never get John B off.”

“I agree.” You shrugged, eyes staring out the window as the trees passed by.

“Not helping.” Pope reprimanded you as well.

“Wasn’t trying to.”

“No guns, no violence. We’ll just simply tickle the wire.” Pope informed you all, holding an airpod between his fingers. “I plant my phone in his car, and then we listen in on your AirPods.”

Kie shrugged as she drove, both hands on the wheel. “Sounds like a solid plan to me.” The car pulling to a slow stop in front of the house. It was a decent sized home — two stories, a backyard, a garage, not any neighbors within walking distance. It seemed Ward had to have been paying this man well.

“I think this is his house.” Pope peeked out of Kie’s window to get a good look at the house, unbuckling his seatbelt. “Alright, uh, honk or yell or something if you see something suspicious.” He said, opening the passenger side door and getting out, crouching through the greenery to get around the house.

The car went silent as you all watched him disappear around the side of the house, JJ leaning back before speaking, his words directed at Kie. He wasn’t a fan of silence — no matter how awkward or comfortable. You’d noticed that over the years. “How’s it been goin’, Kie? Y’know, with Pope and all?”

“It’s good.” The girl replied shortly, not really able to see her face as she continued staring out of her own window.

“It’s good? All right…” JJ trailed off, tapping his fingers. You knew that meant another question was coming, a small smile making its way on your face. “In the bedroom, is he like, kinda freaky, ‘cause it’s Pope, y’know?”

At that, Kie turned around, looking between annoyance and disgust on her face that made you hold back a laugh. “Why are you asking?”

JJ just shrugged, avoiding eye contact. “I dunno. Just curious. Just spitballin’ here.” The girl simply turned back around in her seat.

“You don’t need to spitball.” She said, shoulders square. “We could sit in silence.” She suggested, staring back out the window once again. “Or we could talk about you two, since we’re spitballing.” Kiara threw out, the odd suggestion making you reel your neck back.

“What do you mean ‘talk about us’?” You asked, eyes fleeting towards JJ whose eyes were on you, the blonde taking a gulp and looking out of the window. You doubted he’d told Kie or Pope anything about what happened. But maybe he did?

Kiara just chuckled humorlessly from the driver’s seat. “Nevermind.”

You’d noticed Kiara’s odd behavior a few weeks ago. She kept dropping passive-aggressive comments as if she knew something but you’d chalked it up to John B and Sarah’s disappearance taking a toll on her. But there really was no excuse now. You’d wondered if you’d done something, but you kept drawing blanks.

Just then, Pope jumped back into the vehicle, the atmosphere having shifted in energy. “Okay, phase one complete.” He panted breathlessly with a smile, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. Nobody replied or responded, causing the boy to look around the car awkwardly. “...We all good?”

THE SUN HAD GONE DOWN ODDLY FAST IN THE TIME YOU’D BEEN WAITING TO “TICKLE THE WIRE”. Pope figured it was best not to do it right away in case someone had seen him sneaking around the house. But almost an hour had passed and he was giving the green light.

“So, whose tickling?” The dark-skinned boy asked. “‘Cause I planted the wire so, someone else has to volunteer as tribute.”

“I drove.” Kie threw her hands in surrender, both pairs of eyes turning to you and JJ in the back. You rolled your eyes and grabbed the phone.

“I’ll do it.” You said, to which the blonde pouted and shifted in his seat.

“What if I wanted to do it?”

Your face twisted in a ‘are you serious?’ kind of manner before speaking. “Because you always try to disguise your voice as a woman and you end up sounding like a recovering female nicotine addict.”

“That is not true-”

“It is true-”

“I have a very lovely, feminine voice-”

“Guys!” Kiara shouted, eyes darting between the both of you. “Can we please focus?” You sighed and pressed call. The phone rang four times before it was picked up.

“Hello?”

“Uh- Hello?” You attempted in a deep, masculine voice that came out nothing like one. You decided to ditch the cover up and use your real voice. Clearing your throat, you spoke again in your regular voice. “Is this Gavin?”

“...This is Gavin. Who’s this?”

You looked around at the three people in the car with you, a second of hesitation. “I know what happened on the tarmac.”

The man on the other end let out a nervous chuckle, perhaps he was around people. “...Who is this?”

The first step was done — get him rattled. Now you had to let him know about the leverage, without letting him onto who you were. “I know it was Rafe Cameron who killed Sheriff Peterkin. And I know you knew about it and lied to the police.”

“Okay, who the hell is this? I’m not kidding around.”

“I have proof.”

“You’re gonna tell me who this is right now, or I swear-”

“You could’ve saved Peterkin, Gavin, and you didn’t. You chose not to. And you’re not getting away with it.”

“Listen to me!”

“None of you are.”

“Who is this?! Who-” The man’s yelling was cut off when you ended the call, heart pounding wildly against your ribcage. You sat the phone down on the center console, leaning back into your seat.

“Was that okay?” You asked, an air of uncertainty to your tone, hoping you didn’t say too much.

“Yeah, that was perfect.” Pope assured, JJ giving you a high five. “All right, we tickled the wire. Phase two complete. Now, we wait and listen…” He explained, pulling out the airpods. He was about to put both in when you stopped him.

“Give me one.” You said with your hand out, palm up. “I tickled the wire so I should get to listen, it's only fair.” Pope shrugged, seeing no flaw in your logic as he gave up an airpod. Gavin’s headlights shone through the bushes just as you put the airpod in.

“All right, here he comes. Stay down.” Pope whispered, all four of you sliding down in your seats. Gavin’s car drove by, all of you straightening back up as his car disappeared behind Kie’s.

“He didn’t see us. Hit it.” JJ declared, Kie putting the car into drive and following Gavin as stealthily as possible, but close enough that the bluetooth would work. Within a few minutes, you and Pope could hear from the inside of Gavin’s vehicle.

“Call Ward Cameron.” His voice boomed through the earbud, phone ringing echoing out next.

“What’s happening?” Kie asked, head whipping between Pope and the road, JJ’s eyes were glued to you.

“He’s calling Ward.” Pope said shortly, trying to focus on listening. The audio was muffled and borderline inaudible, you were only able to make out a few words.

“The audio is bad. Kie, you need to get closer.” You said, hand on the back of the driver’s seat.

“I’m trying.” The girl assured, accelerating the vehicle in the slightest. The closer she got, the clearer the audio came in.

“I need to be paid more, alright?”

“You need to stop and think very carefully about what you’re about to say here, okay,” Ward’s voice emerged. “Because I have treated you very well. And I can’t figure out why I should give you one more damn penny-”

“I’ve got something that could put you away for life, Ward!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I…I’ve got the gun, Ward, that your son used. I have it. I know you told me to get rid of it but I know how you work. So, I kept it.” You and Pope shared a look of astonishment, not going unnoticed by the blonde next to you.

“What? What is it?” You turned your attention to him.

“Gavin has the gun that Rafe used to kill Peterkin.” You told him, voice low as you continued listening.

“Somebody called me, okay?” Gavin continued, frantic and talking a mile a minute. “People are onto me. Somebody knows what’s going on.”

“Gavin’s trying to use the gun as leverage to get more money out of Ward.” Pope concluded.

“Nobody is onto you. There’s nobody that knows anything. Somebody is just screwing around with you, you just gotta calm down.” Ward tried to coax the man.

“I want triple and I want the plane.” Gavin told Ward, conviction in his voice.

“I can’t do that.”

“I don’t care.” Gavin cut him off. “You have to figure it out, I’ve got the gun!”

“Shit, he’s pulling over.” Kiara panicked, the SUV slowing in its movements. “Do I pull behind him? What do I do?!”

“Just go around the block.” You commanded quickly with little thought, hopefully you'd still be able to catch most of the conversation.

“I want the money, now. You need to meet me tonight.” As Kie passed Gavin’s truck and made the first turn around the corner, the airpods went static, no more audio passing through.

“I can’t hear anything. I’m losing the signal.” Pope warned, tapping the earbud as if that would make it work. And as if things couldn’t get worse, Kie’s car pulled up to a ‘ROAD CLOSED’ sign, rendering you unable to go around the block as planned.

“What the hell is this?” Pope exclaimed, leaning forward in his seat.

“I’ll just back up and turn around.” Kie stuttered, putting the car in reverse right before a construction truck blocked the path behind the car. Luck was not on your side tonight, you guessed.

“Fuck it.” You muttered before jumping out of the backseat and booking it through the grass, JJ calling your name the loudest as the sound of another car door slamming was heard in the distance, Kiara then calling out for Pope.

You booked it through some poor family’s backyard, triggering their motion sensor lights as you hopped the fence into the next. This time, interrupting some kid’s idea of a pool party.

“Hey, Y/N!” A girl’s voice called, you looking to the side to see a brunette girl — Samantha from your history class. You gave her a quick smile and wave, nearly tripping over your feet as you did so. You could hear audio again right as the squad of kids disappeared from your sight, stopping in the middle of an unclaimed patch of grass as Pope skirted to a stop next to you, sliding.

“Gavin, you can meet me now at the construction site near that surf shop. Do you understand?” Ward’s voice crackled through. “You bring the gun, I will bring you your money. And then we’re done.”

“Yes, okay. I’ll, um, I’ll see you there.” Then the call was ending and Gavin’s truck was driving off. You took the airpod out of your ear just as Kie and JJ caught up to the two of you, both out of breath.

“What?” JJ said, throwing his hands out and stepping closer. “What’s that look?”

“He’s meeting Ward like, right now.” You told them enthusiastically. “We gotta go. Now.” You instructed, walking up to him and patting his shoulder before running back in the direction you came. “Now!”

THE FOUR YOU FOLLOWED GAVIN TO THE MEETUP SPOT WITH WARD. Some old surf shop off an old street, fairly unoccupied considering a lot of the buildings were being renovated. It was pouring cats and dogs and Pope had some old-timey camera he was using to look at things from afar.

“Nice camera, where’d you dig up that relic?” JJ jabbed, raindrops making his hair stick to his forehead, despite the baseball cap on his head. “Why not just use your phone?”

“Well, first of all, I like my antique electronics.” He sassed back at the blonde, face concealed by the black and blue plaid hood he had over his head. “Secondly, this is a telephoto. It allows me to get a close image from far away.”

“Lord of The Dorks.” Kiara joked.

You shrugged, tugging your own hoodie farther over your head. “Gotta hand it to him. It’s comin’ in hella handy now.” Just then you spotted the unmistakable figure of Ward Cameron running down the road in the rain, large bag in hand. “There he is.” You pointed out to the others.

“Yo, get down.” JJ whispered, the four of you ducking further below the wooden fence you were hiding behind. “There’s Gavin.” JJ pointed just as the man in question came jogging in from the opposite direction, both men entering the empty construction site.

Pope stood his full height again, peeping through the camera. “Where are you going?...” He said to no one in particular as the two men disappeared within the building. “No, no, shit. I’m losing them.” He scolded, retracting the camera from his face. “We need to get higher.”

“I think I saw a fire escape back down the alley. Think it could get us to the roof?” You informed, licking the rainwater from your lips.

“Better than nothing.” Pope replied, the three of you scurrying to follow your lead to the rickety fire escape you’d spotted minutes ago. As you expected, it got you high enough to see more clearly within the unfinished structure, a clear outline of two shadows from where you stood.

Pope wasted no time in kneeling behind the wall, camera to eye as you all waited for him to say something. “Okay, I can see them.” The anticipation was killing you, nothing but the sounds of rain and thunder while you waited for Pope to notice anything, anything he could take a picture of and give to the police.

Even though, admittedly, you weren’t sure the cops were on your side after everything that happened. Shoupe considered Ward a good friend, so whatever you gave him better be damn good, or at least good enough for him to look into Ward himself.

“I wish we could hear.” You threw out, still waiting for Pope to say something.

“Ward just handed Gavin something. I think it’s the duffel bag he had with him.” The boy finally spoke.

“Guys, I think this a payoff.” JJ voiced his thoughts. You simply scoffed.

“Of course, it’s a payoff. But do we really think Ward is just going to give into blackmail? He has to have something up his sleeve…” You suggested.

“...Gavin doesn’t look happy about something.” Pope perked up, zooming the lens in even further. “He’s yelling at Ward.” You could see the silhouette of the men, the larger one pointing harshly at the other. Within seconds, it looked like the two men were fighting. “Shit…”

“What’s going on?” Kiara demanded to know.

“I dunno,” Pope replied frantically trying to steady the camera with their rapid movements. “It looks like they’re fighting over something. Ward’s kickin’ the shit out of Gavin…”

“What is it?” JJ asked, the question on the tip of your own tongue.

“Can you see what they’re fighting over?” You piped up.

“No, I…” Pope stuttered over his words, watching the men continue to fight like dogs before the smaller shadow, who you guessed to be Ward, threw Gavin into some kind of structure, his body hunched over in pain, it seemed. “Holy shit. Ward’s got a gun, he just took it off Gavin.”

“Probably the one Rafe used to shoot Peterkin.” You concluded, crouching closer to the edge as rain obscured your vision. Silence filled the rooftop, watching the two men from afar. It looked Ward was walking off until he stopped in his tracks, his figure turning around in one swift motion and shooting Gavin point blank. You audibly gasped, crouching behind the wall completely as the others followed suit, Pope letting the camera fall from his face in shock.

“Oh my God!” Kie whisper-yelled. “That did not just happen.”

“Pope…” JJ croaked, recovering from his shock as Pope edged back up the wall, putting the camera back in front of his vision. “Tell me you just got that.”

Pope nodded. “Enough to put this asshole away for life.” He said, still looking through the lens. Ward’s figure suddenly stepped out of the structure, looking straight and nearly catching the four of you before you all ducked. It looked like he was looking for something. The thought of him seeing you didn’t instill as much fear as you thought it would, almost like you wanted him to.

“I think we should go now.” JJ suggested, the four of you getting up before Pope spoke again.

“Hold on, he’s coming out now.” He told you all, watching Ward’s figure roam the flooded streets. “I think he’s looking for the gun.” He said curiously, the remaining three of you watching with naked eyes as Ward crouched over a sewage drain. “I think the gun just went down the drain. He’s trying to get it…”

“Hold this,” Kie threw her bag in you and JJ’s direction, the pair exchanging a glance as she stood up on the edge, cupping her hands over her mouth. “Murderer!” Your eyes went wide as you and JJ attempted to pull the girl down back behind the wall. What was she thinking? “What is wrong with you?! Killer!” You and JJ managed to successfully pull her down, the girl shrugging both of you off.

“The fuck’s wrong with you? That doesn’t solve anything or help us, at all.” You scolded, angry at the girl's impulsiveness. Lord knows what could’ve happened if he saw you all. And who's to say he didn’t?

“I don’t care if he hears me. He’s a murderer.” She spat back.

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure the murderer knows that he’s a murderer, Kiara. And I don’t think he really cares.” You retorted. “What? You want him to murder us next?”

“Guys…” Pope straightened, removing the lens from his vision once more.”He sees us!” He whisper-yelled.

“Are you serious?” JJ said, shooting a brief annoyed look at the brown-haired girl. “C’mon, we gotta go.” He instructed, Pope being the first to run down the fire escape, followed by you, JJ, then Kie. You don’t know what happened but, somehow, on the way down, JJ bumped into your back, which caused you to nearly fall on top of Pope, which caused the boy to drop the camera — the device taking at least a ten-foot tumble to the ground.

“No, no, no…” Pope cried, bolting down the last flight of stairs, picking up the camera out of the mud, which was now in pieces.

“Are you kidding? You fumbled it?” JJ threw his hands out, the boy with the broken camera in his hands whipping around to face you.

“Y/N pushed me!”

“I didn’t push you!” You argued back, annoyed. “JJ bumped me!”

“Kiara was rushing me down the steps!” JJ defended himself, the three of you turning the girl in question.

“I was trying to hurry!” Was her excuse. Just then, you saw a figure coming down the alley, still too far to be able to see any of you. Hopefully. Instinctively, you grabbed JJ’s wrist and dragged him as you ran.

“He’s coming!” You warned, the four of you jumping over a brick wall and running to where Kie had parked, wasting no time in jumping into the SUV. Sodden clothes sticking to the seats, an unwelcome chill coming over your soaked bodies.

“Can someone fill me in on what the fuck just happened?” JJ nearly screamed, Pope letting out an angry groan. “Holy shit, I can’t believe it. Wait, what were they fighting over?” The blonde asked, leaning over the passenger seat to look over at the camera in Pope’s hands.

“It was a gun, the one Rafe used. Gavin kept it.” Pope muttered, attempting to get the camera to work again.

“God, pick up, pick up, pick up…” Kie cried from the driver’s seat, all heads turning to her.

“Who are you calling?” JJ asked, face twisting.

“Who do you think?!” The girl spat back tearfully, thumbs pressing incessantly at the screen.

“The cops?” You asked incredulously.

“Who else am I supposed to call?!” She yelled towards you and JJ in the backseat.

“Why would you call the police? That’s Ward!-” JJ reminded her.

“He has the entire Sheriff’s department in his back pocket! What makes you think that’s a good idea?-” You reprimanded her.

“Shut up!” She basically screamed at the both of you as an operator picked up. All you could do was sigh. What makes Kiara think she can make decisions for the whole group? Especially with something like this. As if the police didn’t help to run John B into a storm that got you all into this mess in the first place… “Hi, hello? Someone’s been shot at the Grand Street construction site! You guys need to hurry ‘cause he’s dying, I don’t know if he’s already dead or not!”

You just sighed, sliding a palm down your face as she practically screamed at the operator before ending the call. “Okay, well, we can’t just stay here. We’re sitting ducks!” JJ pointed out.

“What do you want me to do?” Kiara cried, looking around the car.

“Just drive!” Pope told her, the girl changing gears and speeding away from the crime scene.

“LOOK, IT WAS RIGHT HERE. THIS IS WHERE THAT MANIAC CLAIMED HIS NEXT VICTIM.” Kiara tried to explain to Shoupe, who’d of course been the one to respond to her 911 call. He’d insisted on taking us to where the “alleged incident happened.”. You simply leaned against a wooden post, letting her rant about crime to a man who would never believe the four of you until the day pigs flew.

“Right…” Shoupe dragged on, eyes peering at the four of you individually. “And how long ago did you say this happened?”

“Like, forty-five minutes ago.” Kiara estimated, throwing her arms out in confusion.

“‘Kay…” Shoupe nodded, writing something down in his notepad before looking back up at you all. “And so, Ward Cameron just popped one off and shot him? Execution style?”

“I mean, not exactly execution style,” You jumped after not saying much of anything the entire time, shrugging. “But I digress.”

“And he cleaned it all up in forty-five minutes?” Shoupe asked, a look of disbelief shining through his eyes.

“Yes.” Kiara insisted. “We filmed the entire thing.”

This made the Sheriff perk up. “You filmed it?” He inquired.

“Yes,” Kiara sighed. “But we can’t show it to you because I rushed JJ down the steps and he bumped into Y/N and she fell into Pope then Pope dropped the camera and it…broke.”

“But we, we were there and we’re witnesses-”

“So, the dog ate your homework?” Shoupe sighed, planting a hand on his hip.

“No, Shoupe, I know how it sounds-” Kiara pleaded, looking up as she spoke.

“Look, I don’t know what you kids expect me to do with this!” Shoupe scoffed, shaking his head at the four of you.

“Your job, maybe.” You sassed from your place against the wooden beam. “But I, for one, barely expected you to do that.”

“You four dragged me out here in the middle of the night for nothin’.”

“No, it’s not nothing!” Kiara continued to fight.

“Except for some crazy stories about how Ward Cameron’s out on a random killin’ spree!” He explained.

“We’re not makin’ this up!” JJ jumped in.

“It’s not a random killing spree.” Pope backed him up. “Gavin was his pilot. He was paying him hush money because he was on the tarmac the day Peterkin was killed, he saw everything.”

“Gavin was blackmailing Ward because Gavin kept the gun that Rafe used to kill Peterkin.” Kiara added on, using her hands for emphasis.

“He called him here and tried to pay him off but it wasn’t enough so, he shot him. With the murder weapon.” JJ concluded, Shoupe listening to each of their testimonies. You, on the other hand, figured it was pointless. The police would never help out pogues, even if it came at no cost. Ward had Shoupe wrapped around his murderous little fingers.

“...How do you know that?” Shoupe asked the teens.

“Pope did this thing with his phone, he put it in his car and-” Kiara was cut off when Pope explained for himself.

“We heard their whole conversation,” He motioned between himself and you. Shoupe then pointed between you and Pope.

“Y’all wiretapped him?” He interrogated.

You simply shrugged, looking at Pope then back at Shoupe. “Is that bad or?” Shoupe simply held up his palm.

“Stop. Just stop.” He warned, pointing at all of you. “I’ve had enough.” He concluded, eyeing you all once more before walking off. You let a humorless laugh, pushing yourself off the wall. You expected nothing less. Or anything more.

“You’re just gonna look the other way again?” You shouted after the older man, the four of you trailing after his figure that was going down the steps.

“Why would we make this up?” Kiara whined, trailing behind you.

“Why can’t you believe us for once?” JJ shouted, heavy combat boots making the most noise against the unfinished wooden steps.

“All right, there’s nothin’ up there!” Shoupe told his guys as he exited the construction site, the extra deputies and officers piling back into their squad cars and turning their lights off. “False alarm, let’s all go home.” He said, walking towards his own police vehicle, the four of you still hot on his tail.

“What’re you gonna do when his wife comes looking for him? Huh, Shoupe?” You pressed the officer, watching as his hand touched his car door before he turned to you all, a cautious hand outstretched in front of him to keep you all at bay.

“Hey,” he said in a warning tone. “I know you’re upset and I know you think your friend was innocent-”

“He is innocent.” You said with finality, lowering your gaze.

“-But you weren’t there.” He said. “The only actual witnesses who are above ground say the exact opposite. And both of them have a hell of a lot more credibility than any of you, right now.” His eyes drifted towards Kiara. “I saw your little art project on Ward’s wall.” He told her. “Do not do that again. Gonna make things a lot harder for both of us...” He advised, opening his car door and getting in. “Go home.” He waved the four of you off as he shut his door and drove off.

“I told you this would happen.” JJ scolded Kiara, snatching the baseball cap off of his head as you and Pope walked in front of the two. “Like, you’re the one that had to drop the camera.” He turned his attention to Pope, who paid him no mind. Kiara, however, did.

“It was your fault!” She told the blonde, turning to face him.

“That was my fault?” He asked, unbelievably. “Why do you always take his side?”

“Oh, the same way you always take hers?!” Kiara spat back, prompting you to turn on your heels.

“What do I have to do with this?” You asked, pointing towards yourself. “You’re the reason the camera's broken!” You threw at Kie.

“Guys...” Pope tried to no avail.

“And of course you come to his defense! I wasn’t even talking to you!” Kiara retorted, throwing her arms out at her sides.

“I was coming to my own defense, thank you.” You sassed back.

“Guys!” Pope tried once more, all of your angry eyes snapping towards the boy. “We’re not out of this yet.” He told you three, turning back and looking down at the sewage drain in front of his feet. “We can still go get the gun.”

“WELL, IT’S NOT IN THE TRASH, SO…” JJ breathed out, throwing the last trash bag from the drain onto the ground. It was the next morning and the four of you didn’t waste a second of sunlight before heading for the creek where the drain let out. The boys had spent the last hour pulling trash bags out of the drain while you and Kie searched them with no luck.

“It’s gotta be in the storm drain, then.” Pope concluded, taking deep breaths with his hands clasped on top of his head.

“Of course it is.” Kiara scoffed, shaking the messy bun on top of her head. “So, what’re we gonna do? Play rock, paper, scissors?” She suggested, throwing her arms out to her sides. JJ retrieved a crowbar from his bag that he’d insisted on bringing before the two of you left The Chateau. He and Pope pried the crate over the drain open as Kie continued talking while you fanned yourself, the Outer Banks sun making you sweat bullets. “Or, like, oldest goes first?”

The boys groaned as the crate opened wide enough for one of you to fit through, standing up straight and panting, JJ spoke. “There’s this worm down there — it gets into your blood and has to come out through your pecker. So, that would be a hard pass for me.” He declared his stance, eyes squinting from the sun as he adjusted the cap on his head.

“That’s gonna be a no from me, too.” Pope raised his hand with the other on his hip, staring down at his feet.

“No, I get it,” Kie smiled mischievously. “You guys are scared.” She mocked.

“Okay, why don’t you go in, then?” Pope threw out. Kiara just shrugged, looking away from the group.

“I just spent an hour digging through trash, so,” She informed, pursing her lips as her eyes drifted to you, the other two pairs of eyes following her lead. You immediately threw your hands out, letting them slap your thighs.

“For the record, we both spent the last hour digging through trash,” You retorted, squinting your eyes at them. “But since you’re all a bunch of pussies…” You taunted, holding your hands up in surrender as you walked to the entrance of the drain, the three of them protesting behind you.

“Woah, now…”

“I just don’t want pecker worms.”

“No, no, it’s fine. Wouldn’t want y’all getting pecker worms, right?” You assured, getting on your knees as they hit the little puddle of water seeping from the drain, the dark tunnel staring you back in the face. The smell of the drain was already wafting up your nose. “Gross…” You muttered, shaking it off.

You didn’t waste any time crawling forward on your hands and knees, water splashing after each step. “And hey,” JJ’s voice sounded behind you before you got too far, looking back to find his face. “Just, uh, be careful. Alright?”

You looked the boy up and down for a moment, not judgmentally just observantly. You never noticed how blue his eyes actually were before now, or how his eyes resembled those of a puppy when he was genuinely worried. Realizing you’d just been staring, you swallowed and nodded, “Got it. Can’t lose any more pogues, right?” You joked, sending the blonde a wink before turning back around and continuing your crawl into the drain.

The drain smelled of rust and something reminiscent of stale cannabis. Although your frame was small enough to fit through, it was still pretty tight. You made your way further in, inch by inch, loose change and sticks scraping at your arms and legs. You’d had to have been crawling for a couple minutes by now.

“See anything?” Pope’s voice echoed into the pipe.

“Nothing yet.” You called back, coming up on the catch basin. You dragged yourself out of the tunnel, now sitting in at least six inches of rancid drain water. Above you was another sewer crate, allowing the sun to give you some light.

The water wasn’t exactly clear enough to see through, especially with all the soda cans and plastic floating around on the surface. Using your hands, you felt around the bottom of the basin — everybody knows a gun when they feel one. But all you felt was what seemed like rocks, pennies, and lost keys.

Some long, twine-like structure started to wrap itself around your fingers and your face twisted, lifting your hands to find someone's hair intertwined between your hands. “Ew, ew, ew…” You shook off the hair into a different section of the basin, shaking the disgust off and resuming your search.

All of sudden, you felt something large and hard, grabbing it in both hands. “I think I found something!” You called, lifting the object from the water, but it was no gun.

“Is it the gun?” Came Pope’s voice but you were too busy inspecting the object — it was heavy, smelly, hairy, and… bloody. Extremely bloody, you couldn’t contain your yelp that came out more like a scream.

“Oh my- ah, fuck!” You exclaimed, letting the thing fall from your hands back under the water.

“Are you okay?” JJ’s voice traveled through the drain. “What is it?!”

“There’s something dead down here!” You yelled back, now backed up against the ladder that led up to the drain exit.

“Don’t touch it, that’s how you get worms!”

“It’s a little too late, J!” You called back, hands slapping against the water in annoyance as you regained your composure. You were about to put your hands back under when your shoe slipped against something in the water. Your brows furrowed, kicking the object around for a moment. “Dear Jesus…” You prayed before reaching your hand back down and picking up the object from under the water — revealing a gun, dripping with water.

You let out a breath of relief, a small smile on your face as you twirled the object around in your hand. You could only hope it was the right gun. Something told you to inspect it — A Colt Rail Gun, serial number starting with 18J.

“Did you find the gun?” Kiara asked. “Y/N, did you find the gun? Is it Gavin’s?” You gathered your breath to respond when something in the way the water moved changed. The water startled to gurgle, the waves moving rapidly — someone was flushing the storm drain.

“Shit,” You cursed, the water getting warmer and more aggressive the more it came your way and you knew it was only a matter of time before it started to rise and you knew you didn’t have nearly enough time to crawl back the way you came. “Guys, the water!” You warned in a panic.

“Dammit! Y/N, get out of there, now!” JJ’s voice boomed over the gurgling of the water.

“I can’t, there’s no way out!” You told him, you figured your best bet was the sewer opening above you. You hoped by some grace of God that it’d be loose enough for you to push it up. So, you tucked the gun into the waist of your shorts before climbing up the ladder, the water attempting to push your body back through the exit.

You swore you could hear your friends calling out for you but there was nothing you could do but try and get them to where you were. Reaching the top of the ladder, you pushed and pushed to no avail. The metal wouldn’t budge.

Out of pure frustration, you started banging on the metal grate, the water below you rising by the second. “Help! Guys!” You screamed at the top of your lungs before fitting your fingers through the openings in the grate, wiggling them in the hopes that someone would see or hear you. “JJ! Guys, I’m over here!”

The water was at your chest when you saw what looked like three figures hovering above the sewage grate, a familiar set of fingers brushing against yours just as the water touched the base of your neck. “We’re gonna get you out!” JJ told you, all three of their fingers going through the opening as they attempted to pull as you pushed.

Your arms ached as you used all of your strength, the water touching your chin as you tried to keep your face as close as possible to the opening. “The water’s coming up, guys, come on!” You wailed right before the water went over your head, submerging you underneath as it came up through the grate. You held your breath and continued pushing before you felt the grate open, wasting no time in basically jumping out of the sewer and landing on the street.

You coughed up water, laying on your stomach before pushing yourself up to sit on your knees. You felt two strong yet lanky arms wrap themselves around your shoulders, pulling you into someone’s chest as you caught your breath. “You alright, princess?” JJ’s voice asked next to your ear. You couldn’t help but chuckle through a cough, pushing him off of you playfully, even though one of his hands remained on your shoulder.

Looking up, you didn’t miss the looks of suspicion on Kie and Pope’s faces but you ignored them, leaning back on your arms. Reaching around to the back of your shorts, you pulled out the gun, holding it up like a trophy. “Look what I found.” You taunted with a breathless giggle, wiggling the firearm around in the air.

Pope and Kiara cheered, smiles on their faces. “Oh my God! Holy shit!” JJ exclaimed, a boyish grin on his face as he pulled a bandana from his pocket and grabbed the gun from your hand gently.

“You actually did it!” Pope praised, dapping you up. Kiara outstretched a hand to help you up that you accepted, swaying on your feet slightly from dizziness. JJ must’ve noticed, planting a palm on the base of your back to hold you steady.

“Let’s get this baby to Shoupe.” He instructed, still giddy as he threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling you into his side as the four of you walked back to the car.

“Y’ALL ARE TELLIN’ ME THAT THIS IS THE FIREARM RAFE CAMERON KILLED PETERKIN WITH?” Shoupe inquired, leaning back in his desk chair. You and Kiara sat in the two chairs across from him while Pope and JJ stood on either side of you. JJ had presented the gun to Shoupe — the firearm sitting clean and dry on the man’s desk.

“That’s exactly what we’re saying, Shoupe.” JJ started.

“And it’s the exact same firearm that Ward just used to kill Gavin.” Pope told the man, slamming his hand on the wood of the desk.

Shoupe stuttered over his next words, letting out a sigh before speaking. “And where’s that body again?”

“Didn’t you check?” Kiara asked, an air of pity in her voice.

“I checked the hospital. I went by his house. He was out.” Shoupe nodded as he spoke, almost as he was trying to get himself to believe something.

“Well, of course he was out, Shoupe.” You piped up, still cold and damp from the sewer water. “He’s dead.”

“Just because he’s not in his damn house does not mean he was the victim of a homicide.” The officer told the four of you, lips curling in frustration.

“You gotta be kidding.” JJ scoffed, shaking his head and he snatched the hat off of his head.

“Are you even gonna send it in for ballistics ‘n shit?” You asked, leaning forward in your chair. “Or are you just gonna sit on your ass and continue to pin a murder on a kid who you know didn’t do it?” You pressed, voice biting.

“He’ll sit there and wax that mustache.” JJ taunted, throwing a hand out in the man’s direction.

“I’ll wax your-” Shoupe stood up from his seat, chair scraping against the floor as he pointed in JJ’s direction before Pope and Kie chipped in, in sync.

“Shut up, JJ!”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Did I hurt his feelings?” JJ mocked as Shoupe made his way over to the door of his office, swinging it open.

“Get out. I got work to do.” The Sheriff ordered, motioning his hand outwards for the four of you to leave. “And y’all are smellin’ up my office.”

Kiara was the first to leave, pushing herself up from her chair and approaching the man at the door. “Did Ward pay you? This doesn’t make any sense…” She said sadly before leaving the office and walking out of the precinct.

“We brought you the murder weapon,” Pope spoke, walking towards the door. “There’s no logical reason for you not to turn it in.” He suggested and warned at the same time before leaving, leaving just you and JJ left.

You stood up from your seat, scoffing as you and JJ walked towards the man. “Protect and serve, my ass.” You spat, looking the man up and down as you walked out, JJ right behind you.

“You ain’t gonna do shit.” JJ taunted, walking closely behind you as you both left.

“Out!” Was the last thing Shoupe shouted behind the pair of you as you exited the precinct.

YOU CAME OUT OF THE BATHROOM AT THE CHATEAU FEELING A LOT CLEANER THAN WHEN YOU WENT IN. You had on an oversized shirt of JJ’s that you’d stolen some weeks ago, a towel wrapped around your head to keep your wet strands from dripping onto your shoulders. Marley greeted you warmly within seconds.

“I know you aren’t actually happy to see me again,” You told the animal, scratching behind her ears as she pawed at your thighs. “You liked it better when I smelled like sewer water.”

The retriever just panted, mouth open as she cuddled into your legs, appreciating the scratches. You looked up to find JJ sat on the worn couch in the living, eyes on the pair of you. You made your way towards him, Marley following close behind as the nails on her paws scratched against the wood. She hadn’t been properly groomed since you left home — you brushed and bathed her as you could here and there, but you were too cautious to go near her with a pair of clippers and razor for fear of hurting her on accident.

Taking a seat next to JJ, who’d taken a shower before you, you noticed the look of frustration on his face. Kie and Pope had ventured off after taking the two of you home. You nudged the blonde’s shoulder with your own, gaining his attention with a cocked eyebrow.

“Whatcha thinkin’ about?” You asked, unraveling the towel from your hair. You tried to remain casual. It hadn’t been hard to communicate with JJ after what happened between you both, but it was definitely different.

“We’re running out of options.” JJ sighed, running his fingers through his messy blonde strands of hair. He was shirtless, only in a pair of shorts he slept in regularly. “If we can’t clear Bree’s name-”

“We will.” You affirmed, the boy's eyes connecting with yours. “You know, I don’t know if you remember,” You started, fiddling with your hands in your lap, a small smile on your face as you spoke. “But my dad, he was a really, I don’t know…spiritual guy, I guess. He was really big on karma.” You explained. “He always believed that even if we couldn’t give people what they deserved that the universe would. That’s how he taught me to never lie as a kid, made me believe that his punishment couldn’t be worse than the one the universe would inflict upon me. That if I didn't take accountability for my mistakes on my own, the universe would find a way to hold me accountable. His form of punishment was just yelling and then ice cream anyway, but still,” You told him, both of you laughing softly.

“...All I’m saying is that even if we can’t clear John B’s name, Ward and his psychotic son will get what they deserve.” You said with finality in your voice. At that, JJ smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, I guess that makes sense.” He lightly agreed.

One glance at your phone had you realizing how late it’d gotten. Gathering your towel and phone, you stood from the couch, JJ’s eyes following your frame. “I should probably get some sleep. You, too.” You yawned.

“See you in the morning?”

You nodded, about to turn and head for the guest room that was technically his when something urged you to stop. Turning around, you took two swift steps and leaned down to peck the blonde on the cheek softly. “See in the morning, J.” You didn’t stick around long enough to catch his reaction, whistling for Marley to follow behind you, but you could’ve sworn his cheeks were bright red.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

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