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paradiqms · 1 year

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to you, 2000 years from now.

hongjoong x fem!reader.

tags: angst, captain!hongjoong, royalty!reader, betrayals, misunderstandings, mentions of death, cruelty, fluff here n there, fantasy setting, strangers to lovers to enemies to..?

summary: after the death of your parents and near fall of your kingdom, you have no choice but to leave your first love in order to keep the kingdom in balance with you as the new ruler. years later, you see a familiar face - but instead of being in your arms, he's kneeling in front of the guillotine.

word count: 4,9k

currently, one out of ?

“must you follow me wherever i go?” the words intended for the young man tailing behind you fall much harsher than you wished from your lips, but you make no effort to show the growing guilt in your chest.

“of course, your highness.” the one who has been sticking to your side the whole morning answers. his voice cracks as he speaks, and you chuckle underneath your breath as your companion attempts to save his pride by coughing into his fist. “i am your guard, after all. so i –”

“have to protect me just in case anything goes wrong. i know, i know.” you cut the boy off, sighing tiredly afterwards. you’re met with silence instead of a reply, and for the nth time this morning, you feel bad.

“i apologize.” you mumble, opting to turn around and face the young man behind you. he’s taller than you despite being the same age. “i wished not to be so… impatient with you. i know this is simply your job as guard.”

a gentle smile grows on the boy’s pale lips – one that you have grown rather fond of during your several months with him as your personal guard. as much as you enjoy the act of understanding that his smile shows, you wish that he would be more stern with you. which is, unfortunately for you, a rather impossible thing to wish for.

“there’s no need to apologize, your highness.” your guard responds with the words that you expected him to say, and you feel your eye twitch ever so slightly.

“did i not tell you to stop calling me that when we’re alone, my dear yeonjun?” you frown, spitefully adding the name of your guard at the end of your sentence as if you emphasize your own words. yeonjun’s smile merely widens at the sight of your annoyance, which in return annoys you even further.

“i guess it’s my turn to apologize then, your high – ouch!” before he could finish his sentence, you reach up to smack the taller boy atop his head, the sound of his armor rattling as he attempts to soothe the growing ache you caused diminishing as you quickly walk away from your guard.

“silly boy.” you laugh quietly underneath your breath, turning around to see that you’ve lost sight of the brown haired boy clad in strong armor that didn’t suit his youthful look. once you’re sure that you’ve created enough distance from yeonjun, you slow down, coming to a leisure walk amongst the people within the town.

the sea of townsfolk seem not to recognize you, and for that you’re immensely grateful.

the last time you sneaked out of the palace and into town, a crowd of people had decided to follow you and give their greetings – some children even wanted to drag you home with them, insisting that you partake in their little ‘acting gig’ where they pretend to be knights in shining armor protecting the princess from pirates.

your role as the princess made it more realistic and fun, as the children had reasoned. yeonjun had to personally drag you away from the children to take you back to the palace.

this time, however, you decided to borrow an old dress from one of the servants instead of using one form your own closet to blend in with the townsfolk and avoid any attention, as well as a piece of cloth covering the lower half of your face. pretty common choice of ‘disguise’ for royals, but you didn’t have much to work with.

your ears catch the tune of an old folksong played on the familiar sound of a lyre amidst the constant chatter of people around you. several townsfolk seemed to have noticed the melody as well, their faces lighting up as they make their way further into the town square and nearer to the music. you tag along, smiling with excitement.

a crowd of people have gathered around the town square, surrounding a long-haired bard who’s reciting a story (or poem? you’re not quite sure) alongside the soothing melody that he plays on his lyre.

having always a deep interest in song and music despite your title, you find yourself lost within the tale that the bard sings.

oh, the ocean that carries the suffering of he,

who wanders the world to find the stars.

but oh, how he finds himself lost in she,

who has one too many scars.

the moon ties their destinies together,

so cruel, evil and unworthy to forgive.

for how can the cursed and the saint care for each other,

when the heavens have decided only one of them shall live.

with a final strum of his lyre, the bard ends his performance, relishing in the cheers of the crowd that surrounds him. his long hair falls from his shoulders as he bows to his audience.

you, however, aren’t so enthusiastic as you clap for the bard.

‘such a sad story.’ your mind speaks, an unfamiliar ache in your chest as the song repeats itself several times within the confines of your head.

you were far too engrossed with your own thoughts to notice someone quickly pushing their way through the audience, shoving away the townspeople left and right without seemingly a care in the world and leaving the crowd mumbling curses. the person shoves you aside as well, making you loose your balance and causing you to fall backwards onto the muddied ground.

just before you had the chance to curse at the stranger for their audacity, they cut you off.

“i’m so sorry – here, let me help you.” the person says, their words falling from their lips in such a rush to the point you probably wouldn’t have understood if they weren’t leaning down closely to you. you look up at the culprit who dared to shove you and your people away, and you notice how young he looks. he has an arm outstretched in hopes to help you stand back up, but before you could accept the offer, a loud voice shouts from amidst the sea of townsfolk around you.

“there he is, the thieving bastard! get him!”

the young man curses underneath his breath. he gives you a quick glance, his eyes conveying the apology he owes you before he runs off. you watch silently as a small group of other men make their way through the crowd in a way that’s rougher than how the boy earlier had done, sending more people toppling over their feet as they yell for the boy to stop running.

your eyes narrow. the boy was a thief, no doubt about it – and yet, he was kind enough to help you after accidentally causing your fall.

‘he’s a thief.’ you scold yourself, shaking your head in attempt to get rid of the way his hair shined under the sun and how soft his voice sounded when he apologized.

thieving is a crime. thieves are criminals, and the boy is a thief. a criminal.why should you help him, right? right. you should keep yourself out of trouble and go back to your leisure stroll around the kingdom. don’t think about how young the thief looked like, and how he must have been stealing only to fend for himself – or maybe even his family. don’t think about it, damn it!

the crowd around you begins to scatter, the townspeople returning to their own work once the commotion died down, and you still haven’t gotten up. you turn around to look at the direction the boy ran off to.

you wonder what’s happening to him. has he escaped? have the other men caught up to him? what are they doing to him, if they have..?

“… ugh, fine.” you groan, forcing yourself onto your feet and running in the same way the thief headed off to. you pass several stalls and enter a dark alleyway, the messy prints on the mud underneath you serving as a guide to where the boy must have ran. without another thought, you follow the leads deeper into the alleyway.

you’re unsure of your own direction, head spinning from the amount of turns you’ve made, but judging from the sound of yelling that’s increasing in volume with every turn you make, you think you’re getting closer.

you slow yourself down from running once the loud shouts sound like they’re right around the corner. your heart beats furiously against your chest, and it nearly stops when you hear pained groans after the yelling stops.

“damn thief,” you hear the rough voice of a man in the alleyway to your right, and you slowly creep your way closer to peek by the wall. “think you could steal our hard earned gold coins just like that? fucking amateur.”

the man crouches down, and you cover your mouth to muffle a surprised gasp as the sight of the boy from earlier enters your sight.

he’s been beaten, badly so – his left eye is swollen and colored an ugly dark purple, blood oozing from several cuts on his youthful face and dripping from his nose. the man is lifting him up from his collar, and the boy doesn’t even try to fight back.

you wonder if he’s even able to, at this point.

“too bad the royal guards didn’t catch you first,” the man snarls at the boy, who doesn’t respond. “they would’ve given you a faster and less painful death than what i’m about to do.”

another man reaches for something on his belt, and even from the distance you’re standing at, you can catch the menacing glint of a dagger.

seconds before the man is about to stab the thief right in the chest, he feels something hard hit him at the back of his head.

“ow, what the hell?” the man curses before turning around with a scowl, and he’s met with the sight of you – standing a few feet away, arm trembling as you hold up a pebble above your head, threatening to throw it at the men in front of you.

“unhand him at once!” you shout, ignoring the fact that your voice is shaking. “i will – i will give you more gold coins than what he has stolen. just let him go.”

‘what are you saying?!’ your mind screams at you, knowing well enough that you didn’t bring a single gold coin or anything valuable with you on your stroll. since, y’know, this was just supposed to be a calming and nice stroll around the kingdom – not some rescue mission, damn it.

if the men don’t kill you, then yeonjun definitely will once he finds out what you’ve been up to.

you’re met with nothing but the sound of silence and your own heartbeat in your ears, until one man decides to break it by roughly dropping the thief onto the ground. you wince as you watch how his head thuds on the floor.

“he stole my entire life savings worth of gold coins, girl.” the man says, grabbing the dagger from the other man into his own clenched fist as he slowly approaches you. “you’ve gotta be one of the royals if you’re gonna give me more than that.”

how ironic, you muse to yourself. you take in a deep breath to calm yourself down as you wait in silence for the man to come closer, and you let it go in the form of a scared whimper as you feel the sharp end of the dagger against your stomach.

“so?” the man growls. “where’s the coins, stupid little girl?”

oh, damn it all to hell.

you meet the mans glare with one of your own as you straighten yourself up, tossing away the pebble you were previously holding to take off the cloth covering the lower half of your face.

“in the palace, you ruffian. want me to send it to you by carriage tomorrow?” you spit out, and you feel the dagger move away from your stomach as the man’s eye widen.

“princess?” he staggers back. you notice how the other men behind him tense up as well.

“i – we – i apologize, your highness. i had no idea–”

“save it.” you interrupt, and the man quickly presses his lips into a thin line. “leave, before i report you to the guards and make you spend your entire life in the dungeons for threatening the princess.”

the man mumbles out something under his breath as he scurries off with his head hung low, the other men tailing after him and muttering apologies to you as they pass. once they’re all out of sight, you let out a heavy breath that you’ve been holding.

your knees are shaking and your heart feels like it’s about to fall out of your chest, but you bear it no mind as you hurriedly make your way to the boy who’s still laying down on the dirty ground at the end of the alleyway, his pained groans reaching your ears.

“hey,” you crouch down to him once you’ve fixed back the cloth over your face. “can you hear me? hello?”

the boy merely groans again.

“alright, let’s get you somewhere else.” you mumble, reaching over to lift one of the boys arm to wrap them around your shoulder as your own arm supports him, slowly lifting him up from the ground. fortunately for you, he’s not that heavy.

the thief lets out another pained groan as you drag him along with you out of the alleyway, his head falling forward and swaying around with every shaky step you take. soon enough, you’re out of the dirty alleyways and you arrive at a small, isolated building that stands alone at the edge of the town.

a small sign swings and squeaks from the wind above your head as you stand atop the three steps of stairs leading to the front door. you knock twice.

a moment passes before the door creaks open ever so slightly, and you can barely make out the eyes that stare at you from behind the door due to the darkness from inside the building.

“state your business.” a croaky, low voice comes from the person behind the door. you clear your throat before speaking.

“apologies for the sudden intrusion,” you mumble. “but the stars need your help to shine again.”

the eyes within the darkness widen, and the door slams shut in your face. you wait patiently as the sound of multiple locks being opened from within the building reaches your ears. the door swings open again, and you’re met with a familiar hunched figure of an old lady clad in a black clothing and white hair that grows pass her torso.

“the stars will shine brighter for you,” the old woman steps aside for you to step in, bowing her head as you make your way inside. “your highness.”

“and they will remain so, for eternity.” you mutter out the last part of the secret phrase your parents taught you when you were younger, offering a gentle smile to the lady before she locks up the door again.

the phrase was created by the royals before your generation, serving as a secret code between the royal family and a select few when they are in need of some dire help. back when your kingdom was caught in terrible war, the royal family couldn’t afford to be vulnerable out in the open where enemies and spies could be anywhere, waiting for the moment to take them down.

despite the kingdom has been in wonderful peace for the last 70 years, the royal family still teaches their young regarding the phrase. this is the first time you’ve used it yourself, even though you thought it would be useless when your mother had introduced it to you during your younger years.

“it’s quite a surprise to see you here, dear princess.” the old lady gestures to you once she’s done with all the locks and bolts on the front door. you blink your eyes a few times to adjust your sight in the darkness of the room, the only source of light present being the fireplace that crackles behind you.

“i know,” you admit, earning a fond chuckle from the lady. “but i didn’t know where else to go. i, uh, need some help.” you adjust the boy that’s leaning against you as if to emphasize on your words, and he lets out a low whine in response.

“i can see that.” the lady smiles knowingly before ushering you to come closer. you do so, and she places a gently hand on your back.

“place the lad on one of the beds upstairs, i will prepare some medicine for him and a cup of tea for you.” before you could protest to her last few words, she pushes you towards the flight of spiral stairs that leads to the second floor and quickly walks off to the kitchen.

‘same creepy old lady even after all these years.’ you think to yourself, remembering the first time you encountered her alongside your father when you were a mere little girl. your father wished to introduce you to her – isolde, if you remember her name correctly – as one of the royal family’s trusted few. apparently, during her youth, she had helped the former kings and queens seek refuge within her home at times of war or simple hardship, and she remains true to her duties till this day.

you carry the thief up the stairs with much effort, the wooden steps creaking loudly to the point you wince at the noise, afraid the steps might break in half at any moment. the fact that the dim lighting from the dusty windows on the wall is the only thing keeping you from tripping and falling on the stairs does not help, either.

once you arrive at the top of the stairs and into the second floor, you’re met with a bit more adequate lighting thanks to the lamps on the wall. you push open one of the doors leading to a spacious bedroom, the creaking noises making you shudder. does isolde never oil her doors?

carefully, you place the thief onto the queen sized bed in the middle of the room, watching him lay down on the soft mattress as you stretch your back with a loud groan. you swear you can hear your bones cracking.

“hah, this is the first and last time i’m carrying someone so far.” you complain. obviously, the thief doesn’t respond, and you’re starting to worry. all this while he’s been really quiet other than the occasional groans he makes. can he even speak anymore, you wonder? is he too weak to speak? did the ruffians break with voice box?

“…hey.” you reach out to the boy, gently shaking him by the shoulder. “how are you feeling? are you okay?”

you receive no response. your heart sinks.

“hey, don’t you dare die on me after i carried you here!” you shake the boy harder, this time with your hands on both of his shoulders as you lean over his body from the side of the bed. “c’mon, please say something, anything at all.”

a moment passes by. you notice how the boy’s lips are parting, as if he’s trying to finally say something, and you wait in anticipation.

“thank… you.” he croaks out. you blink, leaning back in mild surprise before smiling down at him from behind the cloth that covers the lower half of your face.

“don’t mention it,” you respond. “i’m glad you’re alive. i have to take my leave now, please rest well.”

before you could remove your hands from the boy’s shoulders, he catches one of your wrists in his hold, surprising you.

“come… visit,” he speaks, gently squeezing onto your wrist. “next time… please.”

and so you do.

you visit the boy during his stay at isolde’s house, time after time. you come to learn that his name is hongjoong – a young man who comes from a poor family consisting of his parents, his older brother, and himself. he resorted to thieving when his family couldn’t afford to buy food to support themselves anymore. he admitted that he hated stealing during one of your talks with him during a rainy night, and that he could’ve easily fought back against the ruffians who beat him that day, but decided not to.

“i deserved it,” hongjoong had said that night, teeth sinking into the apple isolde gave him. “i’d be lying if i said i don’t feel bad for stealing.”

you didn’t respond to him as you sat next to each other on the queen sized bed, but your heart broke.

frankly, you didn’t know how to respond. how could you, when you’ve been born into a lineage of royalty? how could you say anything to the young man who has betrayed his own morals to fend for his family, when you had feast upon feast each day within the castle walls?

“joong,” you spoke up after a moment, the nickname you made for the boy falling easily from your lips as if you had known him for years. “do you know who i am?”

hongjoong had looked at you weirdly, raising his eyebrow in question as he took another bite into his apple.

“uh, obviously?” he replied as he chewed. you had smiled at how adorable he looked. “you’re byeol, the dumb girl who could’ve gotten herself killed while trying to save me.”

byeol. you feel a muscle in your face twitch. you had given him a fake, random name that first came to your mind when he asked during one of your first talks together. you were already quite suspicious as he didn’t recognize who you are when you didn’t cover your face one day, but you initially brushed it off as some kind of short-term memory loss due to the beating he got.

but weeks passed, and he still doesn’t have a clue on who you are. that’s when you knew he was lying about one thing to you.

hongjoong is not from your kingdom, despite him telling stories of how he is.

it bothered you a bit at the start, but then you came to realize it’s quite refreshing to have someone be clueless on your identity – to have someone be naturally them, with no titles and no courtesies.

so you decided to lie to him too.

“yeah,” you flashed him a smile. “that’s me, i’m byeol.”

weeks turned into months, and you’re beginning to see hongjoong every day now ever since he recovered entirely from his injuries. since you’re adamant on keeping your identity a secret to him, you’ve convinced your parents to leave you out from anything that involved showing your face to the public as princess. they questioned you once, and you responded with a simple shrug, leaving the conversation afterwards. your parents didn’t question you again during the following days.

you’ve also started sneaking out of the palace every night to meet up with hongjoong, with the guards (including yeonjun, thankfully) either asleep in their own homes or asleep whilst they’re on duty, making your job so much easier.

“glad i’m out of that haunted house,” the light haired boy shivers as he sits beside you, the soft candlelight offering its shine to illuminate his features before your eyes. “did you know she peeks into my room in the middle of the night sometimes? creepy old lady, i swear –”

“isolde’s just making sure you’re okay, idiot.” you nudge against him roughly, making him almost fall off the small bed the two of you are currently sitting on.

“okay, but that doesn’t make it any less creepier!” hongjoong protests, and you throw your head back with a loud laugh at how genuinely scared he seems to be around isolde.

hongjoong smiles ever so fondly as he watches you laugh on his small bed inside his cramped room. well, it’s not quite a room, honestly – it’s more of an attic that sits on top of one of the taller buildings within the kingdom that he turned into his own little space, filling it up with numerous books and papers scribbled with poems that express his feelings.

most of them were made for you, but he won’t tell you that. at least not now.

in his hands is another piece of parchment, already crumpled from the way he’s practically gripping onto it nervously.

“she’s a sweet lady if you get to know her more, really.” you wipe away a stray tear that fell from your eye from laughing so hard before leaning backwards against the wall behind you, the funny feeling of prickly wood against your back.

“uh, right,” you giggle at the way hongjoong scrunches his nose when he speaks. “but enough of her – let’s talk about something else.”

you straighten yourself up at hongjoong’s words, a smile on your lips as you’re eager to hear what he has in store for you. you know he enjoys writing in his free time, judging by his works that he has pasted on the walls of his room as well as the ones stacked on his small work table, and it makes you admire him more.

you wish, oh how you wish, that you could live as free as him. a part of you envies the young man and his freedom, all while you’re tied to responsibility ever since your birth. as the first and only child of the king and queen, you’re expected to rule over the kingdom once you’re of age, and it’s the only thing you’ve ever known.

until you met hongjoong. dear, dear hongjoong who doesn’t have a single clue on who you are and expects absolutely nothing from you - except for you to laugh at his lame dad jokes, dance with him in the rain until the both of you are sneezing away the next day, and cheer for him once he’s done reciting another one of his poems.

“what do you have this time, oh dear poet?” you look at the light haired boy expectantly. hongjoong is grateful that the only source of light in his room is the little candle next to his bed, so you won’t be able to see how red his face is right now.

with a dramatic clear of his throat that makes you chuckle, hongjoong straightens out the paper in his hands before reading the words that contain his whole heart within the letters.

my dear starlight, oh how you’ve shined your way into my life,

so bright and beautiful, the north star that leads me home.

one day, i wish to call you my wife,

and to be together for the longest of eternities that the universe has ever known.

“joong, oh my god–”

“i’m not done yet, dearest.”

“okay!”

hongjoong’s laughter sounds like bells in your ears. you gesture him to keep going despite the fact that you feel like you’re about to explode, and he continues.

may our love last, past the final breaths of the immortals,

until even the sun and moon have met their dues.

for with you by my side, not a moment feels dull,

and i will say the words that i have only said to very few…

“i love you.” hongjoong breathes out the last words quietly, eyes leaving the paper in his hands to look at you with hope in his eyes; he’s surprised to see tears in yours.

“hey, oh my god, please don’t–”

the young man is unable to finish his sentence when you lean in to catch his lips in a kiss, uncaring towards the slightly salty taste from the tears that fall from your eyes as he wraps his arms around your figure to pull you closer.

you lean against him, fingers gently carding through the tangles in his light hair as you pour your whole heart into the kiss, where hongjoong gladly accepts it all, feeling as if he’s drowning from your affection. his hands wander around to slip underneath the thin material of your top, cold fingers meeting your warm sides and making you shiver in his arms.

you’re the first to pull away and catch your breath. hongjoong keeps his attention on your lips for a moment before gazing into your eyes, and he can’t grasp how beautiful you look even with the simple fire that blazes on the wick of the candle beside his bed.

“… does this mean you love me too?” hongjoong breathes out, earning himself a slap on his shoulder from you.

“of course, idiot.” you grin, heart softening impossibly so as you watch how hongjoong smiles back at you, seemingly satisfied with your answer.

“then i wish you’d really stay with me for the longest of eternities, starlight.”

you hum, allowing yourself to lay down against hongjoong’s chest as he caresses your hair, the feeling of his gentle hands playing with your locks lulling you to sleep.

“anything for you, joong.” you mumble, falling into slumber with a smile on your lips. “anything for you.”

for the first time in your life, you fall asleep outside the palace walls and in the arms of your love.

as you listen to the sound of hongjoong’s beating heart, you fail to hear the sobs of the heavens.

next.

#ateez fic #hongjoong x you #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fic #hongjoong angst #ateez angst #hongjoong fluff #ateez x reader #ateez x you #man who am i kidding there's minimal fluff here #i love pain #captain joong make monkey brain go brrr #got weirdly inspired after taking the soldier poet king quiz #another king who wanted poet whos with me

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dangert1ts-archived · 2 months

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,,,,,,,, kinda wanna do a post-canon thread with Lute realizing that she hasn't been her own person away from Adam for thousands of years and trying to figure out who she is again other than "Adam's right hand"

#ooc #mun musings #brain is go brrr for angst lmao oop

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touchofdawn · 7 months

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;; Hi hello this song is all so many Diluc feelings goodnight...

youtube

#;ooc #;headcanon #;music #(brain worms)#(dead dad angst go brrr)

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wolves-in-the-world · 2 years

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[original security knife ficlet here, qwat au inspiration here]

Featuring injuries, angst, casual discussion of violence, and a much-needed nap.

[1.8k, also on Ao3]

—

"I'm not expecting you to sleep," Quinn says, like the very idea is laughable. Like they didn't just almost kill each other on their first meeting. Like he's having the time of his life getting his ribs kicked in, losing a molar (temporarily), cosying up to Eliot Spencer (remains to be seen), and betraying the most dangerous man he's likely to ever meet (potentially very permanently).

There's something very wrong with him, Eliot's almost sure. But he's hardly in a place to throw stones.

"Just saying you can lie down and rest while I listen out for trouble," Quinn continues, easy as anything. "You've been on the road for weeks now. You've got to be exhausted."

Eliot grits his teeth as he zips the duffel shut, using the motion to get a sense for how badly he's wrenched his shoulder. It'll have to do. He doesn't exactly have the option to rest it. Doesn't exactly have the option to rest at all. "I'll pass."

"C'mon, Spencer." Eliot isn't sure if the thickening of Quinn's accent is a deliberate ploy or something more unconscious. "If you're accepting my help, you're gonna have to close your eyes in front of me sooner or later."

Eliot's already made his calls. He got one old contact talking at length about the smart-mouthed young hitter who ruined her operation, another telling him that Mister Quinn still owes them thirteen dollars and forty-seven cents after losing a bet, and a solid letter of recommendation from someone Eliot would trust with his life.

Used to, at least. He's got more to risk these days.

He's beyond exhausted. He can't deny that. He's been all sharp edges and hollow adrenaline since the fight, was running on fumes before that, had a catnap in some public toilets yesterday because he needed it, almost couldn't help it, figured it was unlikely anyone would expect it of him. He stopped after the third time he jerked awake at the sound of footsteps, dizzy and queasy from the interruptions and the smells.

He needs to rest. And this guy is worse off than Eliot is—he can count the broken ribs by the way Quinn's holding himself—and Eliot would know if Moreau had him under his thumb. A one-off job, then. It's a messy form of suicide to accept a job from Moreau then refuse to complete it, but Eliot's not going to be the one to stop him.

Letting his guard down around him, though...

"You want to take down the next guy he sends, be my guest." Eliot's voice sounds hoarse to his ears, like he's coming down with a cold. Shit, he'd better not be. "But I'm not letting you keep watch while I rest."

Quinn seems to consider that, consider him. If Quinn weren't so visibly hurt from their earlier confrontation, he'd bristle under that even more. As it is, he still feels the urge to show his teeth and make sure Quinn respects him. Respect is the only thing a hitter has.

Then Quinn lets out a sigh and reaches for the back of his waistband, and Eliot's on his feet in a second because Quinn said he'd left all his weapons in the pile in the corner but Eliot's not a fool, and he's fully ready to slam his head against the bedframe and leave the mess for someone else to find when Quinn says, as calm as before, "Here."

He's flipping the knife around, offering Eliot the hilt. His eyes are steady on Eliot's but from the tension in his posture that's a little more than residual, Eliot's guessing he felt the stress of the moment too.

He keeps his voice level. "You got any more of those hidden away?"

"It's my favourite knife," Quinn says, with a shrug that isn't an apology. "I don't part with it."

Exactly why it would be his favourite, Eliot can't be sure. People get sentimental about their weapons. Superstitious, too. Eliot had a gun he favoured, before... he left. He can't be sure Quinn's telling the truth.

Except it's not the first gesture of trust he's offered. Even calling a halt like he did, slumped back against the wall with an arm wrapped around himself and glaring at Eliot without much fire to it, and Eliot had been a fool to ease back too, to think that it might be anything but a trap, but Quinn had been asking—had been listening—and Eliot hadn't wanted to kill him. That was what this entire mess had been about.

At least, he thinks so. That decision isn't one he can examine just yet. But he's sure he has to do better. Sure he has to be better.

He accepts the knife just to get a closer look at it. There's wear on the hilt like it's been handled a lot, wear on the blade like it's been sharpened often. It's very clean. It's not new. And when he glances back up to the other man's face he sees a wariness quickly tucked away in those brown eyes, like Quinn's offered more than he wanted to.

Huh.

"You gonna keep watch without any weapons?" He twirls the knife in his hand to show that he can, catches the blade between thumb and forefinger and flips it again, the hilt a reassuring thwack against his palm.

"I'll shout if trouble finds us. Don't want you missing out on the fun." There's just a hint of playfulness to his expression now, but enough that Eliot has to check himself. Quinn looks even younger when he smiles, and he has to know that. Useful skill for someone like them to have.

"If you try anything," Eliot says, pulling the blanket from the bed and dumping it on the floor in front of their shared weapons stash, "I'm finishing the job."

"I'd expect nothing less," says Quinn, because—as Eliot is quickly figuring out—he's one cheeky bastard.

Eliot doesn't intend to sleep. He can get enough rest to recharge a bit for now, and there'll be other opportunities once he's—they've—moved to a safehouse that's less easily compromised. He settles himself down, just enough composure left to keep from vocalising the pain, though Quinn must know he broke Eliot's rib too. One last glance through cracked eyelids shows Quinn's still sitting where he was before, gingerly walking his fingers over his side to check for damage. There's a boot-shaped bruise there that's going to be black in a few hours.

Eliot closes his eyes, and the spinning in his head quickly fades to nothing.

When he wakes his body is a scream, his head throbbing, and the quality of light in the room suggests it's been at least six hours. It's far longer than he meant to rest, and he could kick himself for it. Might, when he's feeling better.

More sleep would honestly be ideal—but even if that were an option, he has to see to himself first.

It takes a moment to register a soft, irregular sound and track it to the chair he left Quinn in. He cracks his eyes open and sees the hitter tired but still aware: cheek swollen, one eye bruised, bandages peeking out from his sleeve. He's tapping a rhythm against his knee with two fingers.

Morse, Eliot realises, after another embarrassingly long moment. (Fuck, he really needed that sleep.) He dutifully matches patterns to letters, which even more slowly shape themselves into words.

Hamlet?

If he's reached the 'translating plays to stay focused' portion of his watch, he must be getting desperate.

Eliot uncurls his fingers from the knife first, realising he's held it so tight that they've gone numb. Then he shifts his weight to lever himself up, head still swimming—but more manageable than before—and the tapping stops.

"Eliot Spencer," Quinn greets, not moving from his chair.

"Quinn," he grunts out, because a promise kept needs some acknowledgement. Not enough for a 'Mister' though. He's had enough of performative superiority for a lifetime. "You gonna be fit to travel?"

"I'm a professional." He sounds genuinely offended. Eliot allows himself a little satisfaction at that. "You need a hand with your injuries?"

Letting him keep watch while he sleeps is one thing. That's another. "I've got it," he says, picking up his duffel on the way to what barely passes for a bathroom. He'll be leaving the weapons unattended, but it's a calculated risk. He's pretty sure he'll hear if Quinn goes after them. And he has to give Quinn a chance to betray him sooner or later.

He has to stop at the door, suddenly finding himself one hand short. He's still holding Quinn's knife. He flips it around, offers it back. "Here."

It's not a thank you. It's nothing as soft as that. From the way Quinn's eyebrows shift, his face softening—the uninjured parts of it, at least—it might as well have been. He doesn't comment. At least he has some self-preservation.

Eliot undresses bit by bit to see to himself in the bathroom, not wanting to be caught entirely naked if he has to spring into action. (He learned that one the hard way.) As he takes stock of his physical hurts, he grudgingly assesses his situation.

Just one month, and his whole world changed. Some of it— he can never take back. Never even try to. Some of it, his decision, his fleeing, he's committed to now. Not for Toby, who deserved a better friend after what he did for Eliot, and not for Aimee, who's living her life without him. Not even for himself. Not the time to dwell on that now.

Just one day, and his whole situation is different. Maybe it's the actual sleep getting to him. Maybe it's someone else looking out for him in a way Eliot hasn't had, not properly, since he was in the military. Maybe he's clutching at anything that can keep him afloat and what he's apparently found is this curly-haired, soft-faced killer who seemed absurdly happy to get into a fight with him, and absurdly willing to turn around and lend a hand when Eliot told him why he wasn't going back.

Maybe it's just nice to spend a little time with someone like him. Someone who knows at least a bit of what that means.

Truth be told, he's not much better off than he was yesterday. His safehouse isn't as safe as he hoped, Quinn's handiwork is on his ribs, his abdomen, his arms, his thighs. He has another person to keep an eye on until they show their true colours—or simply get bored and leave. Eliot isn't counting anything out.

Today, though. He can plan for today, and stay as cautious as he knows how to, and accept the help that's offered him.

For today, at least, Eliot has an ally.

#quinn leverage #quinn's lucky knife #qwat au #fics #leverage angst #quinn here is very much ''I'm going to get a good grade in helping eliot spencer!#something that is both normal to want and possible to achieve :)''#I THINK eliot gets less paranoid about quinn pretty quickly and quinn also becomes more of a bastard very quickly #a few more decent naps and eliot cooking for quinn and quinn eating eliot's food and things will be Very Different between them #but right now eliot is a wary animal and quinn is a friendly but careful cat determined to adopt him #very surprised I wrote this I have no solid ideas on early qwat au #but trivalentlinks' recent art made my brain go brrr and here we are <3

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dustofthedailylife · 1 year

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Started working on an angst fic yesterday and made good progress both on that and Ch. 4 of my Diluc fic. The latter should hopefully get an update before the month ends.

Sorry for being so slow again at the moment but revising my exams for a better grade at the end of February has me in a vice grip at the moment and I'm rather low energy because of it 🙏🏼

But despite that you're always free to send in brainrots or all sorts of Genshin shenanigans that you want to share with me. As always <3

#🍁 dust updates #one part of the angst fic is rather self-projecting because pre exam brain go brrr #imposter syndrome is kicking

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hyperfigations · 2 years

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Songs That Are So The Characters From my Quarry AU Because I'm Bored As Hell

No One Escapes From Life Alive

Dylan:

Ryan:

Silas:

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feardrummed · 2 months

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Me after talking about how I'm kinda burnt out of superhero things: lmao what if I gave Ollie a superpower au

#not immune to the idea of an au that has silly and angst potential #thinking. something with sound something with death or something with manipulation/control #thematic powers go brrr #anyway this is just passing through my brain while half awake idk #a visor for a visor (ooc)

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duchess-kyuupid · 1 year

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So I had an idea, what if reader was the magicless student and didn't feel like going home because they knew they were dead in their old world?

So one day a friend asks, "What do you think you'd do if you got back home?"

And reader just replies nonchalantly with a straight face with, "Probably lie in a coffin six feet under."

The friend thinks they are joking but little do they know...

Could it be with Ace and whoever else you'd think best fit the scenario? Thanks! <3

Hello anon! Sorry this literally took forever (-ω-、) At first I had a hard time trying to figure out how to put it all together and who to do lmao I think I ended up doing pretty good, if I do say so myself (maybe a little bit overboard as it went on, though? Like the request looks like it's supposed to at least be a little bit funny but my brain says 'haha sad reader go brrr') Either way, I hope that you enjoy, darling <333

~ "I'm probably never going back." With Ace, Kalim, and Grim ~

[Angst to fluff, Platonic Grim, Gn! reader]

Ace

"So," Ace started, munching on his sandwich, "What d'ya go to the Headmaster for this time? You get stuck with another random job again?" he asks with a sinister innocent smile on his face as he eyes your own lunch.

"Actually, we were discussing the prospects of me going home," you stated nonchalantly, casually sliding your plate of food closer to yourself, knowing full well that Ace really only started this conversation to get you distracted so that he could get at your cherry pie (which the chefs had made specifically for you, as a thanks for helping keep the fireplaces warm over winter break).

Now, while you had certainly noticed that Ace was after your food (you were used to it already, after dealing with Grim after all of this time), you had failed to notice the way that Ace's smile fell off of his face for the faintest moment after he heard the words 'home' leaving your mouth, but he was quick to regain his notorious smile before you could see his disappointment. And in an act to tease you a bit (and to rid himself of the unknown feelings bubbling in the pit of his stomach), he brazenly chuckles and states without thinking,

"Ha, I bet that old man probably told you to give it up. Like, what would you even do if you got back home?" Without a second beat you tell him with a straight face,

"I'd probably just be six-feet under."

"Right?" Ace agrees with a hearty chuckle. And he sees that you still for a second, lowering your head and taking a deep breath for a moment. In that quick moment of you losing concentration, Ace swipes the last remaining bite of your cherry pie with a cheeky smirk.

"So that's why I'm probably never going back," you clear your throat and look at Ace with a sad smile, tears brimming your eyes. And suddenly, Ace feels really, really guilty. He was just trying to lighten the mood by joking with you...about going home...

Ugh, how could he have messed this up, worse? It's impossible, I tell you! Ace knows that you've just been suddenly thrust into a world that you know nothing about, forced to attend a school where you barely even meet the minimum for the curriculum, and, to make matters even better for you, you're basically forced into doing whatever that Headmaster of the school tells you to, simply because he was just kind enough to let you stay at the school since you hadn't even a penny to your name nor your nonexistent family in this world.

Not only that, but you're also the prefect of this new dorm without any magic at all, and you're supposed to keep an eye on this random cat that nearly ruined the Orientation ceremony. And! You've also got to handle both him and Deuce, also known as the chaos duo to everyone who knows them. And he just stole the last piece of your cherry pie, which was honestly something that you more than deserve after all the shit that you've gone through. We all know that you weren't crying because of him stealing your pie, but this fact really was just the cherry on top of his sundae of regret.

So yeah, just label him as Dumbass #1 in your book, if he isn't already.

And he's not sure why he was surprised to see those tears in your eyes, but he was, and he's ashamed at the fact that he's never noticed how you've felt before. So in a frantic motion to fix things, Ace stands up quickly, saying a quick excuse to you about accidentally leaving something in his last class or something, and excusing himself from the lunch table before you could even react.

You honestly didn't know where he went after he left you at lunch, because he wasn't in any of his classes for the remainder of the day. It was only after classes, as you were walking back to Ramshackle with Grim, that you saw him next. He was standing in front of your front door with a nervous look on his face, but he was dressed quite nicely. Not quite formal attire, but it looked like he was expecting to go somewhere, at the very least. Once he saw you approaching, his face brightened for a moment, with a slight blush cropping up on his cheeks as you ask him what he's been doing all day.

"Well," he starts with a chuckle and his infamous smile, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "I got permission from the Headmaster for us to leave campus for a while, so why don't we go check out some stores at the village nearby? I thought that maybe I'd show you around, since you'd probably beg me to keep you from getting lost anyway... Oh, and don't worry about paying for anything, I have it allll covered." He says that last part with extra emphasis and a more confident smile than before, hoping that that would be the ticket to getting you to agree. Little did he know, you were going to agree even if he wasn't going to buy you anything. And little did you know that one of the biggest reasons why he's decided to do all of this can be explained through one simple sentence: 'I want you to start liking this world more than your own.'

In truth, he'd struck a deal with Azul again in exchange for enough cash to buy whatever you wanted from any store (he's got a lot of work cut out for him in the upcoming future), but shh, you didn't need to know that. It would be all worth it if it means that you can get a chance at starting a normal life here...

And perhaps, maybe one day you might want to start living your new life with him by your side.

Kalim

Oh, Kalim. This epitome of sunshine was sharing everything about his family, his childhood, and his homeland to you with so much enthusiasm that you felt yourself feeling the twang of homesickness starting to erupt in your heart. But of course, this always happens with Kalim, doesn't it? First, he hurt the one who he's always adored as a brother- Jamil, and now, he's hurting you too, all without realizing it. You could never blame him for it, though. His genuine happiness and warmth was something that you looked forward to every day, and most of the time just being around him felt like you were basking in the sun on a cold day.

But, sometimes the warmth that he radiates so fervently starts to feel like too much, as if you were being scorched alive under the unbearable heat of the sun.

"So," Kalim says, taking a moment to catch his breath, "I think that's all of my brothers and sisters, plus all of my extended family too! We're a big family, so I know it's a lot, haha! Say, what's your family like?" he innocently asks with bright, expectant eyes.

And you know that he doesn't mean to do this to you, but you can't deny that right now you felt like his beautiful red eyes were burning themselves into your soul like a branding iron. You don't want to make it sound like you blame him for your predicament or his enthusiasm about his family, so you give him the best smile you can muster and divert the subject to the best of your ability.

"Well, they're really not as important as yours is. Can you tell me more about how the Asim family started out? Your family must have a lot of really interesting history."

"Oh, sure!" Kalim nods happily to your request, forgetting his own question shortly after as he continues in his own rant about his gigantic family and some of the more interesting parts of its history.

At this point, Jamil really couldn't bear to listen to this anymore. He's been quietly watching and listening in on your conversation with Kalim from his seat in the corner of the room, where he was supposed to be 'studying'. Jamil sees that Kalim's doing the same thing to you as what happened to him, and decides to step into your conversation. 'Might as well go ahead and rip the band-aid off before it gets to the point of no return,' Jamil thinks.

"Hey," he begins, cutting Kalim off mid-sentence, "Do you have any sort of plans for when you get to go home? If you can go home?"

And Kalim looks at you with a surprised look on his face at Jamil's question for you because of course you'd want to stay here in Twisted Wonderland with him and everyone else! He'd never thought of the idea that you'd ever want to go back home to your original world, Kalim felt like it was just a given that you'd want to stay even if you had the choice to leave. But now that he thinks about it a little more, he doesn't understand where he even got that idea from to begin with. After all, as someone who cares for his family and his homeland a great deal, he can kindof understand how you might feel after being torn away from all of that without any way of returning.

"Haha, well," you chuckle heartlessly, "I'm probably never going back anyway. I think if I went back home now I'd just be six-feet under or something." Your attempt to lighten the mood with your 'joke' fails when you hear the sound of your own voice saying it. You would be lying to yourself if you tried to claim that, no, your voice wasn't shaky, and that yes, you were completely fine with never seeing your family ever again. Jamil makes a comment that he was going to grab something to drink from the kitchen, leaving you in a moment of silence with Kalim following your rather dark 'joke.'

"Well, what's the harm in trying anyway?" Kalim asks softly, "You never know unless you try! Plus, even if it doesn't work out, at least you can say that you've given it your all, right?"

"That's the FUCKING problem," you snap, "I've BEEN trying to go back home, and nothing's ever working! And there's no way in hell I'm just going to give up and go ~'Well at least I tried'~ when it's my goddamn LIFE on the line here!"

Oh no, you didn't mean to start yelling at Kalim like that... But after hearing his flippant "at least you've given you're all" comment, all of the pent-up emotions just felt like they were going to explode if they were kept inside any longer. You feel bad for suddenly yelling at him, but at the same time, it felt like the water gates have finally opened, and before you knew it, more kept spilling from your mouth.

"I had a normal life back in my world, you know! I had people who cared for me, I had plans for the future that I painstakingly paved the road for for my entire fucking life. Everything that I've done in my life up to this point, it's all become utterly useless now that I've come here," you wailed, tears escaping your eyes as you spoke without constraint, "Can you imagine how it feels to have everything stolen away from you, Kalim? All of the people that I've created my childhood memories with, they're all gone! My scholarships, my college applications, my work experience- nonexistent! Hell, if you want to get into the legalities of it, I technically have never gone to school in my life before attending NRC because I never existed in this world before then." You take a breath to help calm yourself down, but after still feeling the flames of rage bubbling in your lungs, you continue to vent out your feelings.

"Do you know how it feels, Kalim, to have no idea whether the people you love know if you're dead or alive? To have to think about how they would react to my 'death' when I'm still kicking and screaming inside another world?! To have to think about everything that you've been forced to leave behind all of a sudden?" You're basically screaming out your frustrations to the sky now, as you couldn't bear to stare at Kalim as you cried out your miseries, "To have to think about the life you could be leading right now if you weren't dragged to some random world with no knowledge about it's countries, it's history, or even it's most fundamental principles like magic?"

Kalim's staring at you intensely, taking every single word you speak into account. Even as you got to the point where you couldn't speak clearly anymore, when you pushed yourself to where all you could do was sob, snivel, and blubber out your words of woe, Kalim sat there listening to you the whole way through.

At some point during your crying, Kalim pulled you gently into his arms in a tight embrace as he let you continue to let your feelings out. He was going to wait until it was all out before he even tried to say anything (reason one being, because it would be rather rude to interrupt you, and two is because he's been rather notorious for crying when he sees other people cry and he didn't want to make the crying spotlight on him)

When you were finally done, Kalim patted your head soothingly and spoke quietly. His own voice was shaky too, and he was also on the verge of tears just from watching and listening to you.

"I never knew you felt like that, I'm sorry for not realizing it earlier," he says, and just the sound of him trying to keep in his tears breaks your heart to pieces.

Your pain is his pain, your tears are his tears, and your smile is his smile because, even if he doesn't realize it yet, he truly loves you dearly. Kalim knows he can be really, really dense most of the time, which is why he never noticed these pent-up frustrations of yours when they were so obvious to Jamil, but he hopes that you'll forgive him for making you feel even worse.

"It's not your fault, Kalim. I'm not angry at you or anything- I'm sorry for yelling like that," you inhale, "It's just-... It just hurts, you know? Thinking about all of the what-ifs and the could-be's... But the truth is, I've had more fun in the short time that I've been here than in my entire life back home. And most of that's because of you, actually."

"Really?" he asks, a spark of his normal cheer returning to his voice.

"Yes, really. I might not be able to use magic, but it's been something that I've loved learning about since coming here. You know, the very first time you took me on a ride with the magic carpet, and I got to see this whole new world from way high up in the sky, I knew that nothing from my home could beat that experience. I'm going to miss my home, but it's not so bad when I know that you're here."

Oh, look at you- you were the one who just had an emotional breakdown right in front of Kalim, and yet you're the one consoling him! Your sweet words struck through his heart like cupid's arrow, and he internally vows that he will always be someone who brings a smile to your face- that he will do everything that he can to make sure that you're happy.

"Then," he perks up, wiping his face from any stray tears that might have escaped from earlier, "Let's go on another carpet ride together, outside of campus!" He exclaims excitedly, all hints of previous sadness gone from his eyes and voice.

"There's so many places I want to show you, but I think we should look for spots that look like your home! This world is a pretty big place, so I'm sure there must be somewhere that looks similar to yours. Tell me everything about your homeland- If we can't find something like it, then we'll just have to make it ourselves!"

Grim

It was in the midst of winter break that you started to feel more lonely. All of your other friends were gone and spending the holidays with their families, while you were still here at the school with your only company being Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts, who would come and go as they pleased. Everything was just so,, quiet, without the chaos duo Deuce and Ace around. Of course, Grim was almost always up to his own little shenanigans too, but most of the time they were harmless and it was just him entertaining himself with catching mice and such.

The silence of the winter break and the bleakness of the white snow was staring to take a toll on you, and it wasn't helping the fact that you're still experiencing nightmares beyond what you see in the mirror at night (this is not a jab at you, I swear).

For reference, you just had a dream that woke you up in the middle of the night, sweating and gasping for air as you tried to recollect yourself. Of course, you couldn't fall back asleep after what you've just seen, and Grim was still sound asleep in his corner of the bed. Quietly, you move to get up to go get some fresh air outside- not forgetting to bring your jacket with you to the freezing cold weather out there.

And you spent a bit of time in the silence of the night, sitting on the stairs of the front porch of the Ramshackle dorm with a heavy jacket tied to your shoulders, just staring up into the sky. This isn't the first time that this has happened, so you know that looking at the stars would usually help you out in times like these.

'I can see the stars so clearly from here. Back home, the stars would be so dim that most nights you could hardly see them because of all of the lights around.'

'Huh, I wonder what kind of constellations this world has thought up of. That kinda looks almost like a horse, if you look at it sideways.'

'I wonder what kind of galaxy this world is in. The Milky Way was nice and all, but something different could be nice, too.'

Those would be the kind of thoughts that would help calm you down after your nightmares and you'd start feeling sleepy again. You'd go back inside, maybe drink a little bit of water, and then delve underneath the covers of your bed and go to back to sleep.

But this time, though, you could hardly focus on anything else except for the contents of your dream. No matter how intently you stared into the night sky, there was nothing else that you could think of other than, 'It was just so realistic.'

"Hey, hench-human! There you are! 'Was wonderin' where ya went so late at night. Come back in already, you let the fireplace in the room die out and now the whole room's gone cold again," you hear Grim calling out to you from the now open door of the Ramshackle dorm.

"Sorry Grim, I'll be back inside in just a bit, just gimmie a minute, alright?"

"What? You're just gonna sit outside in this cold?" Grim exclaims, "What are ya even doing out here anyway?" And you hear Grim's paws tapping on the old wooden flooring as he scampers his way to you.

"Couldn't sleep, so I went out for some fresh air, that's all."

"Oh yeah? Had another dream about the Great Seven? Or was it that Mickey dude in the mirror again?" He pushes your arms away from your legs and jumps into your lap without another thought. If he was going to wait for you to get up and relight the fireplace, he was at least going to wait somewhere that's nice and warm- your lap.

"Actually," you clear your throat, "not this time, no."

"Then what's up?" And he just said it so casually, like either he knew that something was bothering you and he wanted to make the conversation comfortable enough to talk about it- that or he's just completely unable to read a room (which was honestly the more likely option). Either way, it made you pause for a moment, to think about whether you wanted to answer his question honestly or make up some sort of lie about it.

"I'm thinking about whether I should just go ahead and tell Crowley to give up on looking for my way back home," you admit, deciding on telling him half-truths for now. But your comment caught him off guard, and he looks back at you with surprise. "Huh, why would ya do that?" he asks.

"Well, I mean I'd probably just be lying six feet under if I do manage to go back, so what's the point in having Crowley waste his time on this? Besides, he's been using it as an excuse to make me us do all of his dirty work for him, and I don't want to be indebted to him anymore than I already am."

"Well, I guess that does make sense, but still, haven't you been wantin' to go home this whole time? What's with you givin' up now?" he grumbles.

"Awe, I had no idea that you hated me this much," you joke, "To think, that even my closest friend even wants me gone from this world! Oh, woe is me!"

"Hey, you know it ain't like that, henchman!" Grim pushes you playfully, "I'll have you know that, unlike SOME people, I care about my minions. If ya wanna go home, then you should keep tryin' to find a way back, especially if there's someone else doin' all the work for you."

"That's sweet of you to say, but I'm probably never going back."

"What makes you so sure?" And you don't say anything to his question, not for a while. Grim notices your silence and concludes his statement, "Well, if that's what you want, then alright. It just means that you'll be here to see me become the greatest mage in the world!"

"Mhm," you nod sluggishly, and the conversation goes quiet from there. Now, the heavy silence of the winter night fell upon the both of you, the only sounds being the creaking of the old wooden planks of the Ramshackle dorm, the frostbitten wind blowing through the air, and the soft shuffling of you petting through Grim's fur as he sits idly in your lap. The silence didn't bother either of you much, as Grim was nearly falling back to sleep with the soft movements of your hands brushing him and the warmth from your lap keeping the cold at bay. But as time continued to pass, your anxious thoughts started clouding the deep recesses of your mind once again and you felt compelled to speak upon them.

"Grim, I know that you're a monster and everything, but do you know anything about reading a human's pulse?" you speak suddenly, and he flinches awake at your question, rubbing his eyes tiredly as you continue without letting him answer, "You can find your heart rate just by pressing on your wrist, or placing these fingers against your neck, like this." And you demonstrated both actions to him.

"Grim,, I," your voice chokes up, "I can't feel my pulse... Earlier I had another nightmare, and I saw myself dying. In my world... It was so realistic, I..." Tears start erupting from your eyes as you recall the vivid memory, and Grim stares at you with wide eyes as you continue, "When I woke up, I felt like I could still feel the pain. It was so excruciating, I felt like I was going to throw up, so I came out here."

Your body was shivering uncontrollably with how you were trying to keep your tears in as you spoke, and you pull Grim closer to you in a hug close to your chest, "Grim, please tell me. Do you hear anything? Anything at all? Even if you lie to me, please just tell me that you can hear my heartbeat."

Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum.

"I can hear it," Grim states seriously (I mean, after seeing the state you're in, it would be more than a little rude if he wasn't serious), "And I'm not lyin' to ya. It's super cold out here, which is probably why ya can't feel it, but you do have a heartbeat. I promise you, you're alive, right here, with me." He wasn't expecting this, but he tries his best to comfort you, though really he has no idea about what to do or what to say. But as awkward as his words come out as, it still works to help you calm down after a while. He waits until your breathing starts to slow down and your tears have stopped spilling.

"Henchman, I'm startin' to feel hungry for a midnight snack," he states, "I know you're hungry too, so let's go sneak into the cafeteria and see what they've got!" And he leaps off of your lap and looks at you with his bright blue eyes, "We can warm up by its fireplace while we're there too."

As he starts dragging you towards the school, he turns to look at you and he says, "The way I see it, the way you still get hungry or thirsty is how we know that you're still alive. You wouldn't need to eat or sleep if you were dead, like the ghosts, now would'ya? You really need to stop overthinking things like this, givin' me a heart attack when you start cryin' outta nowhere like that..."

~~~~~~

I accidentally wrote a whole mini-story for them, no wonder this request took so long </33 I really hope that you enjoyed reading this, anon! While I did have trouble at the beginning, things started falling into place as I kept writing 👏👏

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adora-but-ginger · 1 year

Text

scrawled in sand

pairing: joel miller x gender neutral!reader

summary: a fight leads to a mistake that may be costly, and Joel might lose someone, again.

word count: 4.5k(ish)

warnings: typical tlou violence and the warnings that come with those, nothing in detail but some sexual thoughts so 18+, weapons/knives, mentions of the loss of children, joel is kind of being an asshole at some points, angst, fluff at the end though, reader is like a feral cat joining a group of feral cats, swearing, hallucinations kind of, spoilers for episodes eight and nine, talking of death, no y/n used, umm i think that's it

masterlist

a/n: please don't ask me what this is, i don't have an answer. i chugged it out on a whim yesterday and make some edits today to fit the story better, and i'm currently trying to fill the hole that the end of the show has left so here this is! pedro as joel truly makes my brain go brrr, this series is fr consuming my life oh my god. thank you for reading! <3

one more thing! don't repost my stories, because only those who don't cover their cough or sneeze do that, and frankly that's embarrasing.

enjoy!-ella

credit to gif owner!

Joel,

The letter started, and he felt the all too familiar feeling of guilt pool in his gut. The argument from earlier that morning back had ran through his head on repeat since you left him standing alone in the middle of the street, with nothing but the horses in the near distance remaining as his company.

He didn't know why he said what he did, or at least he didn't want to admit it. The ghosts of his past had been haunting his every waking moment the closer he got to you, after Ellie had asked you to come with them in Kansas City. To say you were a force to be reckoned with would be an understatement, and he frequently glanced to your features and saw the same fires that burned the kindle of broken memories in himself.

You were dangerous, fearless, and morally questionable. This meant that Ellie nearly fuckin' worshipped you, and that Joel followed not too far behind.

The fact that you were nearly breathtaking to him was also an added benefit. Had he met you before, Tommy definitely would've chastised him for fawning after someone so out of his league.

You were brutal, and had made your grand entrance by saving Ellie and his life when he thought he had failed once again. Even months after you had joined their little duo, he still hadn't figured out how he hadn't seen you in the shadows. You had gotten rid of the person holding the weapon to Ellie's head just as they were about to pull the trigger, the shock of this third unannounced party granting you the time to take care of the one suffocating Joel.

Apparently, you drew a line of morals somewhere, but the line must've been distinct only to you. You had introduced yourself to the two after making sure they were both okay enough to continue, and it didn't take him more than another twenty-four hours to know that somewhere along the line, you had lost a child too. He had never expressed his inference out loud, but only someone who personally knew the pain of losing a child like that would save a kid like that.

From then on, he could tell that his silent vow to protect Elle at all costs was shared with another--an unspoken agreement going between the two of you.

It didn't take long for his 'crush' (as Ellie called it) to develop for you, though he denied it at any and all costs. How could he not? You could take out a clicker in the most agile way he had ever seen, and still walk away looking saccharinely angelic. His angel of death, he called you, after a night of too much stale alcohol surrounded by the sounds of crackling embers and an audience of the stars. You had laughed, and it was the first time he had made you produce that sound.

To say that the thought made him a little weak in the knees would put it mildly, and he thanked the onlookers of dust and ice above him that he was sitting down.

You had told him that that was probably one of the nicest nicknames you had been gifted by another in the last two decades.

He responded with a small smile, one that hadn't seen the light of day in much too long.

You said you liked it, the way his eyes looked with the little crinkles, and got up to stand watch. He noticed the scar that adorned the length of your collarbone for the first time, and let his eyes travel downward for the briefest of moments, before he lectured himself on why he couldn't think like that, of you, of anyone.

Your guard slowly went down for him after that night under the stars, but that didn't mean that you were any less brutal. You plowed through infected with so much as a blink of an eye and a scoff, and could bring a person to their knees, in want of lust or life, often taking the latter.

You two had become close after the winter that he nearly died at the University and Ellie and themself had gone through some of the most trauma one could experience. In fact, the caring whispers you and him had shared during those weeks, well, he damn near thought he made them up out of how unreal they seemed. He remembers the feeling of your lips against his cheek, of you falling asleep on one side of him with Ellie on the other while he nearly bled to death.

He knew he loved you then, but chalked it up to his dying mind.

And then the incident with the hospital happened, and even though you had barely the slightest clue as to who these firefly folks were, you had informed him afterward that when you woke up and pestered Marlene into telling you what was happening with Ellie you blacked out--that there was a reason as to why he had given you that nickname all those moons ago.

Because even if these people thought they could make a cure, who was to say that it worked? These scientists, with barely any resources to perform the necessary tests, had no guarantee that they wouldn't fuck it up, or that they would even did the surgery right had they performed it. No practice on what to do, no clue as to if they even acquire the correct sample. In fact, the only thing that they could guarantee would be the blood of a fourteen-year-old on their hands.

Joel had met you halfway through his sweep of the first floor, the fireflies making the dire mistake of keeping you two on the same level.

He decided to lie to Ellie about what had happened earlier then, and you respected his decision to a point, but you told her that you couldn't speak for him, and that you had found the two of them through no innocent manner.

So now here the three of you were, in Jackson, Wyoming, with him head-over-heels for you, and you feeling quite the same. A home was given to you all, and Tommy had rightly taken up his role of annoying younger brother, reminding him that not only did he know those who were ordained within the town (should the time come for you to become him and Maria's sibling-in-law), but that it would contain the looks that those of all genders gave you.

Like he said before, you were breathtaking, and now he wasn't the only one who knew that.

You had let your guard down a little sine you all returned, but he could tell you were struggling with it. Acting as a parental figure to Ellie had come easy to you, which meant that Tommy wasn't the only one constantly pushing him to make a move on you. He wouldn't be surprised if Ellie and his brother had a damn bet going on as to who could get him to say something first. And even though you two shared a room and a bed, nothing was set in stone. You would only really go out when the other two were, besides patrols, which you damn nearly craved according to Tommy.

It was hard for you and him, but the effort was there. He would see a more relaxed version of you in the nights, with the musings spoken between you and him after the sun had set only heard when your arms were around him in bed and the lull of sleep was around the corners.

So, when you both came back after a significantly rough patrol and something within him snapped at your recklessness, the feeling so long subdued came out from the depths of both of your hearts.

"You need to start being more careful of your surroundings!" He had sharply huffed at you after you had gone in with your usual guard and lack of self-care. The shock at his sudden outburst on your face spoke for the both of you. He didn't know why he was so upset, this was nothing new, but his fears had started to best him.

"Pardon me?" You had said after removing the saddle from your horse.

"Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about." He gritted his teeth and crossed his arms, your actions soon mirroring his. "You can't just go into spaces we haven't checked alone all because you feel up to it."

"I went in there because I knew that there were infected, I don't get why this is anything different than the usual." The shock had quickly faded into confusion at his accusation. As much as he knew your readiness for conflict of the physical, he knew that you were never one for that of the verbal. That was one difference between the two of you--you insisted that problems were to be figured out and dissolved as soon as they arose, for there was no point in letting an argument brew.

"It's just--" he shut his eyes and took a breath, trying to keep himself in check, recognizing the fear that still remained from how fast you bolted into the abandoned barn. "We're a family now, you n' Ellie n' I, and you have to start caring more about what you do and your safety."

"I have been, Joel. So a stalker got a jump on me when I turned my back, but it's happened to the best of us. I wasn't bit, I'm okay." You had reached for his arm, but he moved his stance back just enough for you to halt your motion.

Something hardened in his eyes at that, feelings of what could've happened if you were bit flashing across his mind like a bad movie. "What if we hadn't been on your six? Huh? What would've happened if you did get bit? I couldn't live with myself, and you know damn well that Ellie wouldn't take the news well either. What you do doesn't just impact you anymore. That's all I'm saying."

You had sighed, nodding. "You have to see where I'm coming from too though, love." Pet names had flowed relatively frequently between the two of you since the beginning of the winter, but he still wasn't used to them. He liked em', loved em' even, but a little voice in his head always told him he was getting too close. You both hadn't said those three words, but he was terrified that he would push you away the moment they entered the air.

"I just, never mind." He turned to walk away, which was his first mistake. He knew you wouldn't let the subject just go like that.

"No, no, let's talk this through. You have done the same thing countless times, hell I've had to pry those fuckers off of your back more than I should, but you still continue to do it."

He spoke with his back still turned. "Yeah, but with me it's different."

Mistake number two.

You had both moved to the street now, the lights of early morning filling the colour palette surrounding you both.

"What do you mean it's different? What, you think I'm weaker than you or somethin'?" Your voice held more bite with the claim, and he screwed his eyes tight. He knew that your ability to hold your own was a touchy subject at best, after you explained your amount of loss long ago, but it didn't even cross his mind that his words could've been interpreted in a different manner.

"That's not what I meant, and you know it." He was getting annoyed, he was tired, but he turned to face you nonetheless. It was too early for a disagreement, but alas, here you both were.

"Yeah? Because that's not what it sounded like."

"Listen," your name tumbled from his lips. "You know that I know you're not weak, I have never doubted your strength and I never will. Goddammit. I just think that you go in over your head sometimes, thinkin' that you can handle more than you can."

Mistake number three.

"I know damn well what I can and cannot handle, Joel." Your chest was starting to raise faster, and he could tell that you were getting fed up, but so was he.

"Can you just listen to me for once?!" his tone became louder with every word. Memories of his life before ran through his head, alongside your image. If you wanted to be so stubborn, he could too. Maybe that's why he said what he did next. "You know what? No. I can't do this."

"Do what?"

"For the past how many patrols, you've come back with some sort of scratch because you don't care about what happens to you, and I'm sick of it--"

"--I've been working on it, and you know that. This isn't an easy change for me."

"But you're not workin' hard enough!" his voice was raised now, and he saw your resolve start to break. The dam had opened, and now the flood was rushing in. "If you're goin' to go and get yourself hurt, go do it away from me. In fact, it might just be better if you go on and leave, save us the trouble of worryin'." The words were leaving his mouth before he could even realize what he was saying, and he regretted every word that he processed.

"You don't mean that." He could see your breath hitch, your chest stumble as you spoke.

"I'll be damned if I don't. Can't have us thinkin' you're not gonna make it back if there's no back for you to come to."

"Joel, I am trying to work on getting better at it." Your voice matched his tone now, the anger seeping through you. "You don't see me pointing out every one of your flaws, and goddammit you have your fair share. You know I love you regardless, and--"

Mistake number four.

His body tensed up at your accidental confession, and your eyes widened as you realized what you had said.

"What did you just say to me?" He was too fired up to process his emotions healthily, and all the alarms to run were blaring loud and far. Did he feel the same? most definitely. Did he know how to express that in the slightest? Not at all.

But you held your ground. You knew him and how closed up he was, hell, you were nearly on par with his level there, but you had said it nonetheless. "You heard me, and I've got the feeling that you've known it for quite some time now."

He couldn't stop though. "Don't come home tonight. I don't want you there. Hell, you should've gotten bitten, for all I care."

You cursed yourself for getting close to that old grump. You didn't mean to say it, but you meant it, and you thought he felt the same. You left him there, then, not allowing him to see just how his words affected you. It was ridiculous really, how you let him get to you, but you liked the normalcy of Jackson, no matter how bad you were at it. You felt bad for leaving Ellie, but you thought it was best. Joel was right in that manner, she deserved a guardian that could keep themselves alive.

So that afternoon you talked to Tommy about taking your horse for a little joyride that evening, and though he wasn't too happy with your push for it, he obliged. It was past midnight when you came into the building you used to call home. You got your little belongings together, those consisting of a photo of the three of you, some flasks of water, some flasks of a liquid that was not water, some food, some weaponry, a journal, and went downstairs.

You scribbled a little note for Joel and went on your way. You couldn't look back, because if you did, you'd stay. Part of you broke as you imagined Ellie's reaction come the morning, but you continued on.

You didn't know where you were going, but you didn't really care.

After talking with Ellie that afternoon about what happened once the guilt had consumed him, Joel sought you out. You hadn't come home that night, and though in his fury he told you to do exactly that, he didn't expect you to actually do it.

He had checked the spare bedrooms but found only empty spaces. His heart started to drop as his hopes to see you dwindled. It was when he walked to the kitchen table was he met with someone. Ellie sat there, eyes glued to the small piece of paper in her hands, a tear slipping down her face. At the presence of Joel, she whipped her head towards him.

"I thought you were going to fucking talk it out." Her eyes were red, and she spoke with a bite. "Go get your fucking stuff, we're bringing them back." She stood up and went to go gather her stuff he assumed, leaving the paper on the table. He walked over and picked it up, the guilt returning as he read his name in your handwriting.

Joel,

Guess it really all was just one sided. You were the first person in years that I let myself care about, and I guess I'm facing the consequences. Like you said, you can't worry if I don't come back if there's no back to go to.

Tears welled up in his eyes, and he felt his heart become erratic.

Ellie,

I'm sorry. I hope you forgive me for leaving, but please don't hate me for it. If I were to stay, it would just be awkward between Joel and I, and eventually you probably wouldn't see much of me anyways. Love you, kid.

I'm sorry.

Yeah, this was a mistake. You'd been with people for too long that you grew to be rusty by yourself, and it was costing you, big time. You had been on foot for who knows how long now, but it was dark and sleep was slowly lulling you to its call, so you didn't hear that someone caught onto your trail and began to follow you. It wasn't until a twig snapped no more than fifteen feet behind you that you caught on, and by then it was too late.

A short fight later, death had found another, and there was a nasty stab wound in your shoulder.

You had thought to bring food and water, but why you forgot a med kit was beyond you. So, here you were, your horse waiting by the creekside, while you tried to find something that would hold enough pressure to prevent you from passing out. That was quickly coming to no avail though you realized, and you cursed at yourself for being so torn by rage from your fight with Joel to prepare properly.

You could see drops of your blood reflect in the morning dew that coated the grass. This wouldn't be lethal if you found a way to patch it up, but you were losing hope by the second.

Being agitated enough to find a solution, you decided to press on the wound with your hand, causing your sight to briefly black out in pain. A groan surpassed you, and you begrudgingly dragged yourself to your horse, doing your best to keep the reins in place via a bigger rock, and slumped down against it. If you could rest for just a few minutes and regain your breath, then you could focus better on what was around you that could help. Just a few minutes, you promised yourself, and the darkness overcame your shutting eyes.

It was the sound of another horse that jostled you from your unconsciousness. Looking around, it took you a half a moment to recognize where you were, a part of you aching for the comfort of your shared bed. But that's when everything came flooding back.

Joel. The fight. The note. The stabbing.

You looked skyward and groaned when you saw the paint of warm colour canvasing the blue. With a curse and a deep breath, you pushed yourself up, barely making it to a standing position before the pain overcame you again. You risked a look to your clavicle, and to your dismay, it was looking a whole (no pun intended) lot worse. You figured that you should've known that sleeping it off wouldn't heal a literal stab wound, but what the hell, it was worth a shot. The blood loss caught up to you making you lightheaded, and as you stumbled to your horse, you thought you were hallucinating, because you could swear that you heard Joel's voice.

The version of him that your mind had cruelly made up was coming closer, and jesus christ you were hallucinating Ellie's voice now too. The trees around you started to spin, and when you saw them turn towards the crest of the hill you looked up from, you actually laughed.

You were about to possibly die, and your mind had to punish you for it.

Calling up to the false images, you got their attention with slurred speech. "Shit, you can't even let me go in peace, can you?" Another sour laugh followed your accusation, and the hallucinations had their own conversation before rushing down to you.

Getting off Callus, Ellie slapped Joel's chest at the sight of your shoulder. "Holy fucking shit, guess we know what the blood trail led to." She moved to you after that with Joel not too far behind, but you put all the remaining strength into stepping back from them.

"I know you're both not real, but I don't know why you're still here." This must have been the precursor to death's entrance because that could be the only rationale for this. "You clearly got your way, Joel, now go away so I can please die with some closure."

It was a shame that this is how you went really, with a wound from a dirty blade, but alas. Fake-Joel crossed the distance between the three of you, grabbing onto your good side with eyes wide, examining the injury. "When did this happen?" His eyes sought yours, and you rolled yours in response. "Ellie! Get the bandages from my pack!"

You gave a poor attempt at backing away. "Can't you just leave me be? You told me to go and made it quite clear how you felt about me." You were slipping, and could feel the darkness whispering your name.

"I'm real, this is real honey."

The little amount of push in you snapped, because you scowled in response. "Don't call me honey." You glanced at his hands, noticing that they were moving to the wound. "Plus, if you were real, I wouldn't want to speak to you. So what, I said that I loved--" A gasp caught the end of your sentence, the pain clearing your sight as he started to put pressure on your shoulder. "--love you, but you knew it anyway. We were a family, like you said, and I let my guard down for you--" You had used more energy than you thought on that last sentence, with nothing more than a whisper allowing itself to get through for any other words you had.

Ellie had given Joel gauze by then, and he started packing the wound as best he could. "El, get the horses together, we're takin' them back." He spoke your name then, and you wanted to cry out to the universe for making you think this up. "Bet that felt real, yeah? Listen, I know I said some things earlier, but I really didn't mean them. I'm not that good with bein' vulnerable yet, and I'm still learnin', but I shouldn't have acted that way." Your name spilled from his lips again, and why was he saying all of this now? He continued to talk, but you didn't hear anymore, your eyes unfocusing and starting to shut, the darkness finally coming to claim you.

It had been nearly a full day that you were out, and even though Joel knew that it was partially due to whatever the doc had given you, he was damn near terrified. All of the day's events seemed like a blur, and by the time he was given the okay to stay in the room with you, he had had his fair share of tears. Ellie sat next to him in the chairs he brought up from the dining room, the temporary cot in his room that held you looking extremely out of place.

He had apologized to you more times than he could count while you were out, but the guilt that still racked him rang strong. He had failed, again, this time because he was too bull-headed to talk it out.

Ellie's nudges brought him out of his train of thought, her voice saying your name as your eyes opened. A string of cusses flowed from you as you came to, and he couldn't help but chuckle. Once he had offered you some water, he saw your features twist into skepticism.

"If I'm dead, this is not what I was expecting."

Of course you'd say something like that, trying to diffuse any awkwardness of the situation. Joel played off of it, because he'd prefer this to anger any day. "Yeah, we're actually angels."

That got a snort out of Ellie, and a weak smile from you, one of his own following not soon after.

A few seconds passed in the welcomed silence of each other's presence, but all too soon things became real again.

"I don't know how much you remember from out there, but you gave us a real scare." His hand gingerly reached for your arm, silently asking for permission to hold it, sighing a breath of relief when you nodded. You weren't one for physical touch, especially after an argument, so this felt like a hopeful sign "I really am sorry about what I said to you. I shouldn't have, and I didn't mean a lick of it. I care about you more than I have for nearly anyone else, and I--" The words caught in his throat, and your eyes followed his as they searched the room for an answer.

"Joel," you murmured, eyes on him. "Shit happened, we can talk about it all later, yeah? You don't have to give any confessions now." You kept trying to break the tension there, and he could assume it was due to Ellie being there.

He pushed through though, because Joel Miller was a stubborn man, and damn it if he hadn't been working up the courage to say it since you all re-entered Jackson's gates. "No, no, I want to say it, and I mean it."

"I love you too."

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