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minniepetals · 1 year

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cry me a river | the unprepared

— summary: no one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain

— pairing: bts x reader

— genre: angst, mafia!au

— word count: 7.0k

— warnings: slight ptsd trigger

— PART 23 / previous post / masterpost

“Would you be able to send this letter to the address written on it? Personally?”

The girl you saved is named Ester, and without fail, people whose lives have been saved often feel indebted to their savior, so you know it would be right to have a little faith in her when you give her this task.

And as expected, she’s nodding without question and goes on her merry way.

It was the first thing you asked of her after all, because when you told her you had no need for the help she wanted to offer you with the injuries you sustained at the party along with wanting to help you feel comfortable in Alexander’s mansion, you could tell she was immediately angsty and in need of wanting to do anything you asked of her.

Nice girls like her often get taken advantage of.

Well, that’s none of your problem.

You take care of yourself with the treatment Ester provided for you, treating the cuts from where the bullets managed to wheeze past you, and bandaging yourself up before leaving the room provided for you.

Little Kiwi comes barking at your feet before you even reach the grand living room and despite not one to give or show affection, you pick the little thing up albeit reluctantly.

“Kid, isn’t it about time you head to sleep? And don’t lick me again, please, that’s quite rude.”

You hear a gentle chuckle from a familiar deep voice and finally walk into the living room to find both Alexander and Asher already there.

“Dogs don’t necessarily understand rudeness, though he listens to you quite well,” Alexander notes at the obedient puppy in your arms. He doesn’t wiggle around or bark and remains nestled where you hold him. When you take your seat on the sofa with a small space between you and Asher, the old man speaks again. “I heard you refused treatment from my people.”

You clear your throat awkwardly. “Forgive me, I’m not used to foreign touches.”

He knows you don’t mean “foreigners” per se and narrows his gaze slightly, possibly out of curiosity. “You have quite the skills, young lady, for having an unknown name.”

“My name is Y/N,” you tell him, sitting up. “I am a Reaper, the Grim Reaper of South Korea. My father passed away about a year ago, he was a good friend of your son Karl.”

“Karl.” He rubs his chin thinking about it. “So why have you come to Norway? To meet up with Karl?”

“Karl and I have never been that close, sir.” Of course not, you hate that man. Seeing his face alone will make you want to punch him but you know better than that. So keeping yourself calm, you look away to the side where the windows are, covered by pretty rose gold curtains. “I came here because I quite like the way the sun never sets during this time. It brings me peace.”

“You’re on vacation?” He raises a brow, doubtful, and looks toward Asher for confirmation but the man just shrugs without giving him an answer.

“You could say that,” you reply, and the old man clears his throat.

“It takes someone special to dodge all those bullets without managing any fatal injuries,” he returns to the topic of the matter as he leans back into his seat, an ankle propped onto a knee. “My son never mentioned someone like you, or his good friend.”

“The skills I acquired were not from my father, sir.”

“So you had a different master?”

“I was trained by a Yakuza master. He goes by the name Kitagawa Daisuke.”

Kitagawa Daisuke. Anyone who lives in the darkness knows the name. It’s almost like saying Shakespeare and an immediate ding pops into one's head. Your master is that famous in the underground world.

“No wonder..” Alexander looks at you with fascination now, a small crooked smile curling along his lips, eyes brightening. He knows not just anyone can call themself a disciple of Kitagawa Daisuke and it just further proves a point as to how dangerous the mission will be when you finally go up against your master. That is, if time will allow it. Who knows if you’ll even survive this mission.

You’re just dancing around with death at this point and he’s leading the moves.

“Now that you mention it, you have a sort of aura that you exude in the way I’ve seen with Master Kita. You live up to his name, no disciple of his would have let the enemies’ move confuse her.”

He must be talking about how you managed to recognize the motives of the enemies when you realize the focus was not on Alexander himself but his grandson, Asher Larsen.

You give the man a small glance before looking down at the puppy who’s now slowly dozing off in your lap. You give him a small scratch behind the ear, doting on him a bit. Who would have thought even the enemies knew the life of a dog mattered more to Alexander than his own grandson.

So Asher was right when he said Alexander doesn’t have favorites, which means that if someone does manage to gain his favor, it wouldn’t just be in your favor but you’d have more eyes on your back more than before.

Sounds like a headache.

But it’s the only way you can get rid of Karl. Because if you gain Alexander’s favor, it’ll mean he won’t blink an eye when you tell him you want his own son dead.

“Master told me to always keep my senses heightened no matter the situation.”

He hums at the answer and in a way, you hope this little attention you’ve gained from Alexander is enough to gain a bit of his favor. They say Alexander doesn’t like people who deliberately kiss up someone’s shoes to get to where they want. He’s probably had enough of those people. He also likes people who have a backbone and knows how to protect themselves.

“How would you like to be my new caretaker for Kiwi?” The proposal Alexander gives has your head perked up his way, feeling a bit dumbfounded and surprised, but he continues before you can reject or accept the offer. “You’re here on vacation, aren’t you? I’m sure Kiwi would love to continue seeing you until it’s time for you to return home.”

Perhaps he knows a bit of your plan. Perhaps he doesn’t. Either way, he’s giving you a great opportunity to remain seen by his side.

“I know it may sound a lot asking a mafia boss but I quite like you, Miss Y/N.”

“No, it’s quite alright,” you shake your head lightly and look down at the now sleeping puppy in your lap before giving Alexander the answer. “I’d gladly accept.”

He smiles, satisfied, and when he leaves after taking the sleeping puppy from you, you’re left alone with Asher who had been silent the whole exchange between you and Alexander.

“I’m impressed, that was quite the feat. No one’s ever gotten this far this fast.” When you look at the man who’s finally speaking up, there’s a small curl up his lips when he looks your way, and you guess this man is usually stoic for the most part. How great you’re earning a bit of favor from both the grandfather and the grandson.

“I guess it’s just in my nature to have people join my side.” You give him a simple reply, one he does not refute, and the day ends with that.

You don’t get a wink of sleep at all staying there in that mansion and you know it’s because you’re in an unfamiliar place. You’ve never been good at adapting to something new. It took some time for you to settle into the Bangtan manor when you first moved there years ago, but unlike how it was there and back at your own manor, Alexander’s mansion gives you some sort of comfort you’ve never had before.

It’s probably the fact that night never comes. Your room has windows placed at a good spot, where the sun seems to shine through even though there are clouds blocking part of it. It isn’t as bright as it was when you first arrived at the airport but when it still lights up the sky around three am, you’re grateful for being here, in Norway.

Norway is pretty in a way Korea has never been and being here, despite the mission you’re on, gives you a sense of peace and calmness Korea has never given you. It’s a foreign country and yet something about it, something about the sun not being allowed to set and give way to the stars and moon, to the darkness, you have the urge to stay here if you could. Forever if possible.

But peace can never truly stay forever as long as you live this life.

You have people to go after, a revenge plot you’re on. Maybe when everything is over, if you manage to survive in the end and meet your last victim without dying, maybe then you can return here.

But first comes earning Alexander’s favor.

“You’re going to be in charge of taking care of his dog?” Hoseok’s face is a bit comical when you relay them the news once morning comes and you arrive back at the place Namjoon has provided for you. “Just what do you know about taking care of dogs?”

“Not much,” you admit as you scroll through your phone in hopes of learning, “but Alexander’s given me a bit of trust so I might as well take the opportunity. Ah, speaking of,” you put your phone down for a second, looking between the two Bangtan men, “don’t the two of you have some experience in taking care of dogs? You’ll teach me, then.”

It’s a request that comes out of nowhere, especially after just dropping the bomb on them, but it’s not like there’s anything else they can really do.

Namjoon sent them here in support for you and despite the awkward air around each of you, you’re one to ignore all signs and pretend everything is and has always been alright.

“Well an important part of a dog’s routine is taking walks,” Jungkook speaks up after being quiet for a while. His brows are slightly furrowed, thinking. “Mr. Larsen has actually given you quite the task.”

He’s right.

Taking a dog out on walks means being out in the open air where enemy eyes are everywhere. If last night proves that Kiwi serves more purpose to Alexander than his own grandson — and the enemies know that — then being the dog sitter isn’t just any mere maid’s job.

They have to be smart, agile, quick, and strong because they’re looking after what equals an heir.

You’re basically Kiwi’s bodyguard.

“Maybe this is his way of testing me.” It has to be. He couldn’t just have trusted a random stranger to take care of something that clearly means a lot to him. Though that begs the question as to why.

Is it because you mentioned Kitagawa as your master? He’s quite well known after all, and well respected at that.

Still, something’s a little weird.

But if you’re trying to get close to the old man, you might as well take advantage of this while not forgetting to remain cautious.

No one can ever be trusted fully. There is always an ulterior motive behind one’s action.

“I have a question, sir.” When you return to the manor a little later that day, the first person you go to is Alexander, who easily allows you into his proximity just minutes after you asked for his time. You thought initially it’d be a while until you get your reply, after all, he’s a Godfather who’s probably busy with all sorts of things, which is why it’s surprising the reply came so soon and was received well.

His butler didn’t lead you to an office, rather, you found yourself walking into a pretty greenhouse that sort of reminds you of the one back at home.

It’s massive in size though, that’s a difference, but you can clearly tell it’s being taken care of well in the way your Reapers takes care of your greenhouse.

“One moment, Miss Y/N.”

Alexander has his back turned to you when you find him towards a corner, with a water can in hand as he personally feeds the plants the amount of water needed with a serene expression on his face.

Kiwi, who had followed you when you were led by the butler, walks over to respectfully nuzzle against his master’s foot.

“Pretty, aren’t they?” The old man comments with a smile once he’s done watering the plants and places the can back in its place.

“It’s a surprise you’re able to keep them alive here,” you utter as you take another look around at the greens all around you. “I have one back in Korea, though my Reapers take care of them.”

Alexander takes a seat on a bench and Kiwi jumps over to lay on his lap. “Taking care of things personally brings me peace.”

“...Does it, now?” In a world where things are always chaotic, you suppose having somewhere to go to for peace is ideal. “I don’t have a greenhouse for personal taste though.”

“Do you grow poison?” He asks and there’s really no use lying.

“Amongst other things.”

He falls silent for a moment, a serene silence, and it’s strange the way he looks at you in a way no one’s ever done before. You’ve seen creepy old men before, met a couple of them personally against your will, but Alexander doesn’t remind you much of them. He stands out further, but in a way that isn’t bad at all and for some reason that brings you another sort of uncomfortable feeling you don’t think you’ve ever felt before.

It’s strange and foreign, and perhaps he understands the effect he’s made on you because he lets out a light chuckle.

“I used to be just like you, little one.”

Your brows furrow at his words, confused. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, sir.”

“Always in a rush, never stopping to revel in the scenery.”

Because there’s no time for that. Time doesn’t wait for anyone and the enemies certainly don't. You’ve finally gained some sort of peace after your father’s death but even then, letting yourself go in order to be free from the chains isn’t exactly as easy as one may think.

You’re rushing because you want to reach peace, because you want a moment in time when things finally slows down and you’re okay with it, with the clocks existing, with the time ticking.

Peace doesn’t come to just anyone willingly.

“You’re anxious,” Alexander notes and perhaps you’re uncomfortable because he sees through a part of you that only people you allow in sees.

This is why you hate old people.

They can tell so easily because they’ve been through things.

“If I let time catch up on me, there will be nothing left in front of me.”

“Is that what you believe?” He asks, a hand running through Kiwi’s fur as the little dog begins to fall asleep. “What if what you want is already in front of you? Perhaps you just don’t want to face it because you’re afraid.”

Afraid?

Afraid of what?

But maybe he’s right. Maybe you know exactly what he’s talking about.

“You’re running away.”

Yes.

This man certainly does make you uncomfortable.

Not like the creeps, not like Leehyun, but not like Mister Butler either. Though in a way, there’s something familiar that you sense in him in the way you’ve felt with Mister Butler. As if he has a window to see through your soul.

But you’re sure not all old people know everything. They can only guess from what they’ve been given and seen.

You decide to keep your guard up.

“The question you wanted to ask,” perhaps he felt you trying to run from him so he changes the subject, “What was it?”

Right.

“When I take Kiwi out on walks, I’m sure you realize there may be people out there who will take advantage of those times. I don’t know the streets well and I don’t know who means well and who wants Kiwi dead. So I wanted to ask; the people that decide to come after me during Kiwi’s walk time, do you want them dead or alive when I bring them to you?”

So blunt and straight to the point, Alexander chuckles at that, amused.

“I’m sure a disciple of Master Kita will come to understand who poses a threat and who doesn't. I don’t care about the lives of those who want my little puppy dead. It doesn’t matter who they are, if they come after him, kill them. After all,” his eyes are gentle when he looks down at the puppy, though there’s a glint of danger that flashes in the light of his eyes, “only people with evil hearts will want to hurt an innocent puppy.”

Evil hearts. What a strange way to put it that way.

You get too curious not to ask; “Do you believe we aren’t evil? A little kid might subject us to the same category as them. We all kill after all. It doesn’t matter what, it doesn’t matter who. Killers are all evil in the eyes of some.”

He doesn’t think much on it when he answers your question. “In my eyes, many of us, like you and I, kill only for survival.” You and I, he says. “If an apocalypse were to happen, you’d kill a zombie for survival, wouldn’t you? You wouldn’t just it bite you and you certainly wouldn’t let them bite someone you care for. You’d kill them. For survival.”

He looks up, eyes as clear as day. “This business we’re in…we’re in the same boat.”

Killing to survive.

Killing because there is no other choice.

You don’t think you’ve ever met a man like him who seems so sentimental on life as if a part of him is satisfied with what he’s gone through but he also holds some regret, things he knows beyond you, years he’s lived more than you, and has gained wisdom from all the experience.

No one from this business has ever looked in the same lens as he does on life and you hate it.

You hate how it makes you feel.

So you drop the subject and leave the greenhouse, feeling that creepy sense of goosebumps on your body as you go.

When Kiwi wakes from his nap a little after, he comes to find you and you take him out on the walk you promised him before that meeting with Alexander.

The walk is nice, the scenery different from that of Seoul, and the breath of fresh air it allows you to intake with a piece of mind helps you remain calm and collected. Kiwi walks beside you without a leash, his little feet taking you down the paths as if he’s done this a thousand times before, with his little nose curious at every little thing around him.

He doesn’t ever stray away and you guess perhaps even the little one understands the dangers of what it means to be himself. In all honesty, you prefer cats over dogs but you have to admit this isn’t so bad — well, being in Norway helps, you guess.

In Seoul, the streets wouldn’t forgive you for taking a walk so carefreely like this.

But of course, Norway has its own dangers. You are taking care of a prominent figure of a powerful mafia after all.

For the most part, you had been following Kiwi and letting him guide you where his nose leads him, but when the two of you come towards a lake where lies a bridge at the center, the little puppy suddenly stops in his tracks, sniffs the air, before retracing back to you.

Your brows furrow slightly when he steps up to your feet, hiding in between them, and when you hear a small noise out of the ordinary and look up with a calm gaze at the sudden new presence that has now surround the both of you, an exasperated sigh leaves you.

So much for peace and quiet.

“Hey lady, what’re you doing with that dog?” A man asks in Norwegian.

“Dog sitting,” you reply in English.

They look amongst one another, confusion plastered on their faces probably because they’ve never seen you around before and when Kiwi grinds his teeth and growls lowly at them, you put a foot closer to him, trying to ease the little puppy.

“What happened to the old sitter? Dead?” He speaks up again, a brow raised your way. Perhaps he’s testing your ability to understand him so when he speaks in his language, you continue replying in English with perfect understanding of one another.

“Not dead. I’m just a temporary sitter.”

“And who are you? I’ve never seen you around Alexander before.”

“Just a common girl.” You take a small step back seeing the way he reaches for something in his pockets.

“You should know that the streets are dangerous.”

A little chuckle leaves you. “I wouldn’t be trusted with Alexander’s dog if I didn’t know that, now would I? Still, that’s a very bad idea,” you beckon at the gun he pulls out. “You wouldn’t want to do that.”

The corner of his lip curls upwards as he brings his gun forward to his face, playing with it just as his friends start to close in on you. “And why not? Are you afraid, little common girl?”

“Afraid?” You tilt your head back, laughing. “No, no, it’s not me who should be afraid.” He sends you a furrow in his brows at the way you look so relaxed and so you go on. “Alexander has already given me permission to eliminate anyone who poses a threat, which means I don’t have to go easy on you or spare your lives.”

“Really?” He scoffs, taunting you. “One against seven, you really think a little girl like you can take us?”

“Oh no, I’m not talking about me, though you’d be surprised I can totally take you.”

“What?”

“You should learn to heighten your senses, old man, maybe then you’d realize we aren’t the only ones here.” With that signal, someone from the group has their neck slashed from behind and another one gets shot right in the head.

One by one, they fall as you calmly pick up the scared little dog and stroke along his head to calm him down. He leans into your touch as the two of you ignore what’s happening around you, and once he finally seems alright again, you turn back to where Jungkook and Hoseok are standing, the enemies all dead on the ground.

You take one glance down at the dead bodies before checking the time on your watch. “I’ll inform Alexander and have his people clean this up,” you say as you reach for your phone. “Meanwhile, would one of you like to accompany me back to his mansion? Take on the role Taehyung took back at London?”

Jungkook comes along while Hoseok stays back and the walk back for the most part lies in silence.

Drama only occurs once you return to the mansion, hearing the sound of a familiar voice you haven’t heard in some time now. He shouts angrily you hear it through the halls and when you walk into the living room, you find Karl Larsen with three of his men behind him, reprimanding poor little Ester with Asher standing off to the side, looking bored and exasperated of his uncle.

No one stops him.

“Are you that incompetent? Just how useless are you that my father has to choose a stranger to take over your job? I told you to keep an eye on that mutt and you can’t even do that?”

Huh. Who would have thought Ester was actually Karl’s servant who had been assigned to look over Kiwi before you came in to take over temporarily? Though from the looks of it, when she cowers in fear under his demands, her head lowered, eyes tightly shut, shoulders trembling slightly, she doesn’t like this man so much.

Who does after all?

But she did look a lot more carefree living in this manor, looking after Kiwi under Alexander’s commands. Alexander isn’t known to bring just anyone in to work for him, which means Ester managed to gain his trust. He’s good at knowing who to trust, he wouldn’t just be easily swayed by his own blood’s opinions, so if given the chance, you believe that Ester wouldn’t hesitate to betray Karl.

She’s a sweet girl, you don’t doubt that.

Asher on the other hand, you aren’t too sure if a man like him deserves the benefit of the doubt.

He senses your presence though, unlike Karl and his men, and when he looks up to meet your eyes from the entryway of the living room, he stands up a little more straight, a small curl turning upwards upon the corner of his lips.

Maybe he’s just bored with petty family affairs and has no say in what his uncle wants or does. Family positions are important in the mafia after all.

“Where is she? The new girl?” Karl’s voice snaps back, his eyes bulging and you step towards them despite Jungkook’s caution, knowing the signs of that man. “Bring her to me now, you useless—”

His hand raises in the air and before it can come down at the young girl’s head, you grab his wrist mid-air with your left hand, stopping him successfully. “If you’re really that upset about the change, why don’t you bring it up to your father, spoiled old man?”

His brows furrow tightly when he looks your way initially, before his expression begins to cool and soften when he realizes just who it is that dared to stop him from punishing his subordinate. The strength of his arm weakens and he brings it back to his side, fixing the cuff of his suit, while a smirk plays on his lips as he keeps his gaze on you.

“Y/N,” the way he says your name makes you want to vomit and though for a second looking at that familiar, disgusting smirk on his face causes your mind to want to resurface the memories of all the things he’s done, you keep them back in, focusing on other things to not trigger it. “Look at you, you’ve grown so much since the last time I saw you. What are you doing here in Norway? Came to pay me a visit?”

He doesn’t know what happened to your father, you realize through those words, which is a bit surprising because of how close the two of them were, but then again, after the wipe of your father and his people, it kind of makes sense Karl never got word of your father’s death.

Both Asher and Jungkook are confused about the way Karl is acting so friendly and close to you, as well as the way he just naturally turns his attention from being angry at Ester to invite you to take a seat.

You follow him and settle Kiwi in your lap and see the way he glances at the puppy, a slight bitterness contouring his features before it disappears all too quickly.

He doesn’t like Kiwi, that much is clear, and with the way he addresses you, you can tell this man still thinks you of the naive little girl who would submit to just anyone without fighting back.

“Your words are a lot sharper than they used to be,” he notes, remembering the way you spoke to him. “Seems you’re finally growing into the woman that your father trained you to be.”

With a hand stroking the fur of Kiwi’s, you take a look at his three men. One of them is someone you recognize, the other two are completely new faces.

“Tell me then, how have you been since I left Seoul?”

One year, he came and left — not even one year but a summer, four months — and that was all it took for him to do all the things he’d done.

“I have news to give you, sir,” you say and he tsks at you.

“Come on now, call me what you used to call me. We were close, weren’t we? Don’t treat me like a stranger now, Y/N.”

He puts a hand on your shoulder and you bite your tongue back, resisting the urge to run from his touch. So with a tight grin, you give him the news he’s been needing to catch up on. “I am the Grim Reaper now..uncle.”

That amused expression on his face falls slightly, masked with surprise and confusion, and he takes one look at Jungkook who stands guard behind you, before returning his gaze back on you, flabbergasted.

“Your father’s dead?” He breathes, not believing it. “Why didn’t anyone tell me? How’d he die?”

Telling him the truth now would lead to an outburst from him and you can’t have Jungkook seeing that. Karl is a madman and if he knows of the truth here before strangers outside his and your people, he will definitely forget about the way your true relationship with your father is supposed to be kept a secret from the public.

“I apologize, uncle, preparations for his funeral and my succession took longer than expected.” Jungkook knows those words aren’t true but thankfully he knows to keep quiet.

“I could have helped,” Karl insists and you give him a pressed smile.

It’s strange the way he can’t comprehend just why the daughter of his friend whom he’s hurt many times did not want him involved in her family affairs, but you guess the minds of psychopaths are just like that. They can understand human emotions but they cannot feel them, and so they cannot emphasize with others.

“Do you not remember all the things you’ve done to me?” You want to ask him. “Do you not recall what you and father had done? Why would I want your help?” But you bite your tongue back just as Kiwi stirs from your touch, probably sensing a change in you.

The more you face the people who have done you wrong, the harder it is to keep the facade, you realize. Namjoon once said to stop before it all breaks you and you told him broken things cannot be broken even more but perhaps they can.

They can.

You’ve reached your breaking point before, not just once or twice, and yet it seems the world has just proven to you that glass can keep shattering and shattering until there is nothing left but dust.

Are you prepared to turn into dust?

You are. You’ve said it before.

“A broken glass can never mend itself to the way it used to be, the only thing it can do is break even more.”

You were prepared, your body was, but is your mind prepared? Will your mind ever be prepared?

No one is ever prepared to be broken, even if they think they are, and breaking again and again does not make you numb to the pain.

Kiwi whimpers on your lap, his head nuzzling into the palm of your hand when you stop stroking him. They say that dogs can smell human emotions and in turn, adopt them as their own, and hearing the distress whimpers, you try to return to Karl and give him a reply and yet nothing happens. You can’t even open your mouth to speak. You feel frozen on the spot.

Why now? Why now, whynow, whynow,whynowwhynow?

Footsteps are heard upon the silence of the room. “What’s making my Kiwi sound like that?” A low rumble demands an answer but you remain still, unable to move.

You feel paralyzed.

Kiwi looks up at his master’s voice for a second before going back to nuzzle against you and lend you his warmth, and while the people in the room stand up straight at his presence, Karl even going up to greet his father, you remain planted on the sofa.

Alexander ignores Karl to walk over to where his puppy is. He takes a glance your way, with Asher confused and Jungkook concerned and a little panicked because of the state you’re in, but rather than making this a big deal and reprimanding you for causing his puppy to sound the way he does, Alexander instead remains calm.

“Come here, Kiwi,” he calls, and though the pup hesitates at first, looking between you and his master, he eventually jumps up and into Alexander’s arms. “Karl, I’ll deal with you later. Right now I’m too busy to entertain guests.”

Though Karl looks like he wants to protest at first, he nods in reply, knowing he cannot talk back to his father. You were hoping he’d just leave it at that and go ahead with his men but for some reason, he just has to turn to you.

“My deepest condolences, Y/N. Let’s have tea to catch up next time, yeah?” Unable to grasp the situation, he reaches out to place a hand on your cheek, a smile on his face, before he arches his back straight again to bid Alexander goodbye.

In that moment, you stand, though it’s only because staying on that couch feels disgusting now having to sit still and do nothing when he reached out to touch you. You hate the touch, it burns you, but you remain silent when you stand a little behind Alexander, nodding Karl goodbye, and only once he leaves does the room feel a little easier to breathe in.

Just a little.

“Should I call Mingyu?” Jungkook asks when you return to the room Alexander prepared for you that first night you met him. He watches you with keen eyes and observance as you walk further into the room, away from the door, eyes still refusing to look anyone in the eyes, silent with a blank expression. “Or..should I leave the room?”

You don’t give him an answer but you’re thinking.

How far is it from here to the manor Namjoon prepared for you? A couple of minutes away by vehicle, which means it wouldn’t be that difficult for him to come here. But him coming here would mean a hassle because then you’d have to let the people here know that Mingyu’s one of yours and you don’t feel like interacting with anyone right now. A letter in your handwriting wouldn’t suffice either because they don’t know your handwriting.

You could honestly call Ester and describe Mingyu’s face to tell her he’s with you but that would mean interacting.

Jungkook could leave the room and yet the thought of him leaving gives a small dread in the pits of your stomach because you hate being alone and left in an unfamiliar place and right now he’s the only thing that’s familiar to you.

Familiar.

How funny that this familiar person left you to fend for yourself and gave you his cold shoulders when you needed him most.

And yet there’s no other choice.

So just like back in London when you familiarized yourself with Seokjin’s warmth and kindness for that split second, you turn around to face Jungkook.

He stands far from you, having not moved from the door since the two of you walked in, and a part of you hates that despite what he’s done to you, you know Jungkook is a man with natural kindness and would never do anything that would harm you on purpose. You see it in the way he keeps his distance, in the two questions he asked, how he doesn’t try to approach you, that unlike Karl who doesn’t know how to take a hint, he understands your fear of being touched by men even though you did allow Yoongi to hold you and poked Seokjin slightly on the shoulder.

He respects your boundaries. He always had, he always did.

So why did it have to end with him giving you the cold shoulders and pretending he hated you? Why did things have to turn out the way it did?

You’re so tired. Tired of everything.

“Come here,” you call for him, and you hate how even when you give him permission to come close, he still hesitates, concerned for the state of your mind.

When he approaches, his steps are slow, and once he’s inches away from you, you hold out the palm of your hand.

“I want you to help me with something,” you say, “you don’t have to do much, just..stay still and…and give me your hand.”

His brows are knitted, eyes staring down at your palm as if this isn’t a good idea. “I’m sorry,” he tells you, feeling conflicted. “Hoseok should have been here, we should have switched places. He would’ve been a better choice in—”

“I know Hoseok would have been the better choice but we can’t turn back time now can we?!” Your patience is starting to wear thin and when he flinches a little at the way you raise your voice, your own eyes widen at what you’d just done. Shocked at how easy it was to lose control, and when you begin to spiral out of fear for raising your voice at him, you put your hands in your hair, trembling.

“I’m sorry, please just…just help me, Jungkook. You have to replace what he did. I hate it, I hate his touch, and right now I’d rather feel your touch than his so please…please?” You look up at him, not caring that you’re pleading and looking desperate.

When he sees it, sees the way your eyes gloss over with a glaze of water, at your panicked tone and your begging for his help, he gives you his hand.

You take it and press his palm onto your cheek, over that burning feeling from where Karl touched you, and the peace that you yearned for doesn’t come right away. You struggle for a bit and your legs almost give in from the weakness but Jungkook’s right there to hold you up and bring you over to the bed so that you don’t have to rely on your legs.

He remains standing before you, watching as you rest your eyes while keeping his hand pressed to your skin.

It takes some time for the storm to wash away and for the calm to walk over but it comes, eventually, and when it does come, it isn’t in the way it is with Mingyu. Jungkook doesn’t give you the sort of calm that your second in command gives you, though you expected it because no one can replace Mingyu’s warmth.

The sort of calm Jungkook gives you follows with pain and grief over what had been lost all those years ago.

His warmth, his presence, his puppy-like self following you around, willing to do anything and everything for you. He’d always been such a quiet man who follows the rules well, who does everything with great effort, who is sometimes too naive and gets roped up in Jimin’s antics and gets scolded for things he didn’t do.

Always there to lend you his jacket when you shivered in the slightest way, always there to protect you from anyone that bothered you, noticing the smallest things, and though you relied on him for a lot of things, he relied on you in turn as well.

You understood him in ways the others couldn’t, the two of you in love like those two innocent little kids who were finding out what it meant to love someone for the first time. Soft and gentle, a bit awkward and clumsy.

“They didn’t have the drink that you like but I got you…” He walks back with a hand holding onto a glass of something for you to drink, but in the middle of his sentence, Jungkook’s expression falls. “...Something happened.”

Immediately, he’s shifting his head around to try and find who it was that approached you tonight but before he can get too far, you’re grabbing ahold of his arm and pulling his attention back on you.

“It…nothing happened,” you insist with a bit of panic on your expression, afraid of what Jungkook might do out in public like this, all the while trying to see if you can catch of glimpse of Namjoon anywhere on the floor. Thankfully he isn’t around, otherwise he’d be able to also tell something was wrong with one look your way.

There are days when hiding your emotions are easy and there are other days when it’s a little more difficult. Like on the days when people make you uncomfortable and you just can’t seem to hide it well. Those days are hard.

And Jungkook, who looks back at you, clearly doesn’t buy your little protest. “Y/N, I need you to just point out—”

“Please.” You squeeze his biceps, holding yourself close to him, pleading with your eyes as you look up at him, and Jungkook immediately recognizes just what those eyes are trying to tell him;

‘Don’t leave me alone.’

You’re frightened, he realizes, and after a small look around the room to check his surrounding, he brings you in close to him and keeps you by his side as he takes your hand and brings you around to an empty space where the two of you can be left alone together.

“Is there anything you need?” Is the first thing he asks you as he sits you down on a seat in the empty room, but you simply shake your head and squeeze his hand tight.

“Just you,” you say in a quiet voice, and Jungkook stays with you that night without ever leaving your side, all the while you simply hold onto the touch of his hand, the feel of it a comfort unlike any other.

His touch reminds you of those memories, of the past and the tears and the smiles, and though you hate the pain that it resurfaces, you’d rather revel in this pain than the pain of remembering the memories with Karl.

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Text

Sun Bleached Flies - Part 2

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Maybe things aren't as bad as they seem. Or maybe they're worse. It's difficult to tell when you're still stuck in that basement.

warnings: PTSD, angst, anxiety/panic attack, blood, hurt/comfort

wc: 7k

Simon was always good with a gun.

Well, not always, but he learned quickly after he joined up. Countless hours were spent down at the range, cleaning, loading, aiming, shooting, working on his technique and stance; becoming a lethal and effective killer. Practice makes permanent, and he found himself using a handgun to shoot several yards at a target at an outdoor range, which felt wrong. The distance was much too far, and he couldn’t even tell if he was hitting his target effectively, let alone if his grouping was alright.

That wasn’t the only thing that felt wrong. His M1911 felt too light, even with a full magazine, which seemed like it held too few bullets. He swore he loaded nine rounds in, but could only squeeze the trigger three times before the slide was stuck open, telling him he was dry. So he’d reload, rack the slide, and try again just for the same events to occur.

Eventually, he got frustrated. Too damn far to see the target properly, and he certainly had faulty equipment, so he holstered his gun and glanced around the area, defeated. The range itself was proper, but something seemed off about it. It was his feet, constantly slipping on something, and it wasn’t until he looked down that he realized it was sand. Desert-like sand, but it seemed too moist. Was he at the beach?

“Did I not say I would find someone who would make you talk?”

Simon turned around so quickly he swore his neck would snap. It was Bukin. Always Bukin. He grinned like a hyena with rotting teeth and a decaying core, and his chuckle was just as sour. An unexplainable rage began to smother him at the very sight of that creature, and his fingers twitched as he reached for his gun once more.

“You don’t deserve her,” Bukin continued as Simon aimed the muzzle of his pistol at him. “She would’ve been better off with me.”

A single shot echoed in the air, but there was no ringing in his ear, or crack in the distance. His gun didn’t jump, and Bukin still stood as if a bullet had never been fired in the first place. In anger, Simon stomped towards the man, gun still pointed at him, and pulled the trigger another time. Once more, there was nothing but a single shot and no blood.

“Or maybe you should have never had her at all,” Bukin mused as he crossed his arms over his chest, unphased. “You had to have known it would happen, yes? Death follows you everywhere you go, Ghost. It was going to get her eventually.”

The stiff end of the muzzle pushed against Bukin’s sternum, and Simon held it there firmly as he pulled the trigger once again. He had gone through the actions so many times. He knew what it sounded like when the breath was torn out of someone after the impact of a shot. Where was the thud of Bukin’s body? Why was the light still in his eyes?

“Ghost?”

Simon turned around at the sound of your voice. There was a small waiver in your tone that made his stomach drop, and he could feel his heart scream and shatter at the sight of you. Hands covered in blood, trembling lips, tears pouring from your eyes as you clutched your chest. You stared at him as if begging for him, as if he was the only person in the world who could save you.

When he tried to take a step forward, he felt his feet starting to sink through the sand, like the earth was trying to swallow him whole. Legs straining, he tried to push through, climb across the land and claw his way to you. You continued to stand there, hand clutched to your chest, blood flowing impossibly fast through the wound. Had he caused that? Or had you always been like that? Broken? Bleeding? Why did you look at him like that? Like you were forgiving him?

Sand swallowed him up to his waist by that point, and there was so much blood soaking the ground he couldn’t tell how much of it was yours, pouring from your wound, or his, pouring from his nails; broken and ragged from clawing to get to you. The worst part was, there were no hands holding him back, no biting words degrading him. Nothing in the world was stopping Simon from saving you except for himself. There was more blood than earth by that point, and the roaring sound of the ocean waves drowned out your crying and begging.

Eventually the earth felt pity on Simon, and the sand swallowed him whole.

Simon hardly needed to set alarms those days. His body did all the work for him, consistently waking him up with a frenzied jolt. A thick layer of sweat permeated his sleepwear, and he could feel strands of his hair stuck to his forehead. A terrible, chest rattling drum pounded in his body, and he could feel the way his ribs heaved in order to steady his heart.

The first place he turned to look was to you. Fast asleep on your side of the bed, the only clue that you were even alive was the subtle movement of your shoulders with your soft breathing. He knew he should have been happy to see you sleeping so peacefully, but when his eyes settled on the bottle of Ambien on your nightstand, a sour taste soiled his tongue.

Turning his attention to one of the windows, Simon took notice of the dull spring sunrise peeking through the curtains as he sat up. It was soft and white, like there were too many clouds in the sky for the sun to shine properly. It was only a matter of time before your alarm woke you up for work, and though he usually liked to stay around until you left, something was telling him to run. Run, fight, scream, because then at least the pounding in his chest would make sense.

Instead, he turned back to face you and your sleeping form. So soft and quiet underneath the covers, hidden away from the world that was much too cruel towards you. He leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple, and not even that stirred you out of your sleep. Still, it made him feel a little better as he slipped out underneath the blankets and began to dress himself for the day.

One day the bed would grow warmer. He’d wake up with you in his arms again, smiling up at him, and his nightmares would finally fade away. But he was too afraid to cut you on the broken pieces of himself, and he was tired of seeing your blood. Your happily-ever-after would come someday. Eventually. Just not that day. Not while he still failed to save you, even in his dreams.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Once again, the sound of Jace’s shoes were driving you up the wall. The man had grown partial to wearing a full suit at work, for some strange reason, which only proved to annoy you even further. Strutting around in his charcoal grey suit all important-like while he breathed down the necks of every poor girl that worked there. He wasn’t a creep or anything, just much too enthusiastic about his job, and with no concept of personal space it didn’t take much effort for the man to irritate you.

Luckily, you were working on fixing a jam in the cash dispenser, which meant you were mostly out of your manager's line of sight. It was a difficult jam, something that couldn’t be fixed by simply opening the side panel and yanking the paper cash out by hand. Grime built up on money too easy, and the tips of your fingers had turned grey just from handling what little cash you had managed to yank out of the dispenser. No wonder that shit got jammed; there was so much dirt and dust stuck in that machine. Did anyone even bother to do any cleaning while you were gone?

You nearly laughed out loud at that thought. While you were gone. Why did you make it sound like you were gone by choice? Would it have been easier if you had just gone willingly? Would it have saved you from the pain?

No. No, you were at work and you needed to focus. There was no room for you to slip away, to go back to that house, that beach, that orchard, any of it. Your hands stilled on the machine as you took a shaky breath. No room for emotions; just for cleaning.

You stepped away from the machine for a short moment, trying to change your focus to something else while you reached for a can of compressed air. It made quick work of the dust and buildup crammed into the sensors and circuits of the machine, and you watched as it swirled in the air around you. A tingling sensation settled deep in your nose, and you tried not to think about the adverse effects that inhaling literal human grime and greed would have on your health.

Jace’s shoes hit against the stone floor of the bank again. Their terrible click-clack sound was not at all similar to boots on wood, and yet you still found yourself looking up towards the ceiling. There was no second floor to the building, no rooms above your head. Nothing but bright lights and fancy fixtures greeted you, and you found yourself swallowing hard as you looked back down at the dispenser. It was an instinctual reaction, something you couldn’t stop yourself from doing, and yet your heart raced all the same.

Sniffling, you shook your head and continued messing with the machinery in front of you. After opening a few more panels and removing a few parts, you found where the worst part of the jam had occurred. Someone didn’t check the cash well enough for slight tears, and it had gotten caught on one of the belts and torn, leaving a large pile of money behind it waiting to be processed. You didn’t realize your hands were shaking until you reached into the machine to pull the disfigured money out, and you did your best to ignore it as you started to close everything back up.

Something cracked behind you, and you froze. It was nothing more than someone scooting back in their chair, and you knew it. It was a sound you had heard plenty of times at work. You knew what it was, and yet your body didn’t. Your body heard it as a thump above you. A chair toppling over after someone shoved it in anger. Then it was followed by footsteps. Boots on wood. Stalking towards you as the sound descended downstairs. He was right on top of you. Right behind that door. Waiting to tear you apart.

Then his hand was on your shoulder. Always touching you. Always grabbing you like he owned you, like you were nothing more than a pet to him. Maybe you had been. No, you were less than that; you had just been livestock. An animal he tried to use to keep himself alive, something to bargain with. And his hand was on your shoulder, ready to take you away to be slaughtered.

“Hey, are we getting anywhere with this j-?”

When you turned around, you led with your elbow, and it collided with something squishy, followed by a yelp. Your eyes landed on your manager, Jace, who stood in front of you, doubled over as he held his nose. Blood splattered on the ground, staining his fingers as it poured uncontrollably from his nose. You looked down at the mess and noticed he had gotten some on the tips of his shiny, annoying dress shoes.

“Bleeding fucking christ,” he said through gritted teeth.

All you could do was stand there in shock with your hands hiding away your mouth as you looked at the mess you caused. You wanted to be angry, you deserved to be angry. He fucking touched you when a simple question could have easily gotten your attention. But he was bleeding, all over the floor, and when he looked up at you with involuntary tears in his eyes, you found your stomach churning with guilt.

“What the fuck was that?” you asked. You tried to sound large, but your voice only shook as you lowered your hands away from your face.

“What?” Jace asked, peeved. His voice was congested due to the blood he was trying not to choke on. “I should be the one asking you that! You broke my fucking nose!”

“Do you know how to talk to people without touching them?” you retorted. But your voice gave away what strength you tried to fake. No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t stop shaking.

“My apologies, didn’t realize it was a bloody crime,” Jace muttered, the sarcasm almost covering his anger.

Even after all that time, it was always the same. Greedy hands on your waist in a bar. Vile hands holding your wrist, threatening to shatter it. The hands of your idiot manager trying to get your attention. Each and every time you knew it was wrong, that they shouldn’t have been touching you like that, and each and every time you were the one to blame for it.

It was always the same. Nothing had changed.

Different voices, kinder voices, tried to get your attention, but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of your terror. That pulsing mass of muscle in your chest, or the hyperventilating of your lungs. Sometimes your chest ached so terribly you thought you would die, and that’s how you felt in that moment. You’d just keel over on the stone floor and drown in the blood you accidentally spilled over a fucking panic attack.

So you left. You hadn’t even fully realized you were leaving until you were outdoors where the bitter spring rain almost instantly soaked you to the bone, even through the thick fabric of your blazer. There was the vague sound of the bank door opening behind you, but you ignored it and kept walking and prayed that whoever was behind you would leave you to be devoured.

Your walk home felt like a blur; like you were just some puppet with her strings being pulled. There wasn’t a single action you had taken the last few days that actually felt like your own will. You had turned into a simple bystander for your own life. People said that spring rain washed away everything so that there was room for new growth. The only thing you felt in the rain was cold, and it certainly didn’t wash away the anger that tried to strangle you or the sobs that choked you.

When you arrived home, everything was quiet. Usually Simon was there to greet you, but you also usually spent more than two hours at work. Really, it was for the best that he wasn't there anyway. He had always managed to find you in such vulnerable states, but you weren’t sure if you could handle him seeing you like that. Soaked to the bone, uncontrollable tears falling from your eyes, having probably just lost your job after essentially assaulting your manager.

It was a coo that caught your attention. Brought you back to reality, if only for a moment. It came from Boo, of course, who stood near your feet. He looked slightly disgruntled at the small puddle of water that had gathered around your feet, like he wanted to rub against you but didn’t dare get his paws wet. You wished you had his ignorance.

You felt bad for doing so, but you left Boo by the entrance as you pushed deeper into the apartment, headed straight for the bedroom. Your blazer was peeled off of your body and you carelessly left it in the middle of the hallway before hiding yourself behind a closed door. It didn’t take Boo long to track you down and attempt to paw at you through the gap under the door but you just couldn’t. He was an ignorant cat, and still you wouldn’t put him through the horror of watching your breakdown.

A squelching sound followed every step you took as you walked to sit on your side of the bed. The utter anxiety and pain in your chest had diminished but you could feel it slowly being replaced by a terrifying numbness. In order to preserve itself, your body had placed itself into some sort of limbo, and you didn’t know what to think of it.

Sighing heavily, you wiped at the moisture on your face, unsure if it was from your tears or the rain. When your vision cleared, your eyes settled on the bottle of pills on your nightstand. A half empty glass of water sat next to it, almost enticingly. Fucking Ambien. You shouldn’t give in, and you knew that. You’d fuck up your sleep schedule even more than it already was. But whatever was happening, whatever it was that was going on inside of you, you didn’t want to be conscious for it.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

Smoking after any sort of physical training was certainly a terrible idea, and Simon was fully aware of this, yet he didn’t care enough to stop himself. So he stood outside, close enough to the building that the rain didn’t get him too wet, despite the fire laws that went against it, and puffed away. He hoped the rain would wash away any lingering scent of nicotine from his clothes.

He worked harder than he should have, and his body paid the price for it. Achy muscles plagued his arms, legs, and for some reason his core, even though he hadn’t focused on it all that much. Progress was slow, and he was still further away from his old self than he liked. A part of him wondered if he would ever see combat again. Did he even want to after everything that happened to you? Could he stomach leaving you again, not knowing if you’d be there when he came home?

The thought of leaving you made him sick.

It didn’t take him long to finish his cigarette, and he shoved his mask back over his face before venturing off into the storm. Noon would roll around soon, and he figured he’d need to eat a big meal after the hours he put in at the on base gym. After suffering through mid-day traffic for longer than what felt legal, Simon arrived home where the rain was just as unrelenting. Avoiding the moisture as much as humanly possible, he dove into the apartment.

A small puddle of water greeted him at the entrance, and he found his eyes narrowing at the sight. Was there a leak? Dark eyes glanced up at the ceiling, worried the roof wasn’t holding up, yet there didn’t seem to be any sign of cracks or a burst pipe. Sighing, he slipped into the kitchen where he removed his mask and coat and set it on the counter. His pack of cigarettes peeked out of his pocket, as if trying to tempt him to take another, but he ignored that thought in favor of leaving to grab a towel to clean up the mess instead.

Simon hardly took a step into the hallway before he froze. Something was wrong. A sopping wet mess of clothing sat in the center of the hallway, and a ring of water settled around it. It wouldn’t be good for the flooring, but that was the least of his concerns. The door to the bedroom was closed tight, and Boo laid on his side, nose peeking underneath the crack as best as he could. Simon ventured a few steps closer, catching the attention of the impatient feline, and he instantly hopped up and trotted up to the man, meowing.

“What’s up, mate?” he asked, leaning down to gently scratch the cat's ears. The question was playful, but it didn’t help the uneasiness that had an iron grip on his stomach.

Boo followed Simon to the door and was the first to dash in the moment it was opened. Your sleeping frame was the first thing he noticed, and if he didn’t know better he would have thought you hadn’t moved at all since he left in the morning. But you were on top of the covers rather than under them, and in your work clothes instead of pajamas. You hadn’t even bothered to take off your shoes.

Concern didn’t even begin to describe the mess of feelings swirling in Simon’s head. You were supposed to be at work, not a soaking, unconscious mess in bed. Carefully, he approached the side of the bed where he tried to assess you as quietly as possible. No marks, your breathing looked and sounded okay, your eyes fluttered like you were in deep sleep; you looked fine. But you weren’t. He knew you weren’t, and he didn’t like that.

Maybe he should have left you alone, but he couldn’t stop the hand that reached for your shoulder. Your clothes were still moist, and his skin stuck to your dress shirt as he gently shook your shoulder. You were icey to the touch, and he tried not to flinch at the feeling.

“Sweetheart? Hey…”

His voice was so soothing it had to be a dream. No, not just his voice, but everything. It all felt so far away and muted, yet so close, as if something was clawing inside of you, trying to get out. Lungs expanded with a deep breath, your eyes fluttered open, and your vision was completely obscured by Simon. He knelt on the floor next to the bed where he leaned forward so that his hand could brush against your cheek. It was only then that you realized how cold you were. Damp clothes clung to your body as if trying to suffocate you, and your muscles attempted to turn into stone with how stiff they were. It was like waking up on wet grass.

And it all came back to you. The crunching sound of your elbow smashing a nose, the panic that footsteps stirred in your chest, how you couldn’t be touched without feeling Bukin instead. You stared at Simon with glossy eyes, and you tried to open your mouth to speak but stayed silent instead. His concern only grew at your silence, and you watched as the proof of it etched onto the features of his face. He looked at you like that so often you were certain his face would be stuck that way.

“What’s goin’ on?” he asked softly. Everything he did was soft when it concerned you. Like he feared he would shatter you.

“I… don’t know.” Your response spewed out of your mouth before the thought was even formed. The Ambien you had taken shrouded your mind in murky water, and you weren’t sure if you should be grateful for it or not. Neverbefore had you ever felt so light and heavy at the same time.

With an odd burst of energy, you sat up and Simon’s hand fell from your face. It was as if no time had passed at all. You had just been stuck in some sort of limbo and thrown right back into reality the moment you had woken up, and fuck did it hurt. A heavy dryness overwhelmed your throat to the point you were certain your vocal cords would crack, and there was some evil creature running around wreaking havoc in your head.

“I’m gonna get some water,” you said as you scooted towards the edge of the bed. Each word that you spoke felt too big for your mouth, but you let them tumble out anyway.

An uncomfortable squish sounded as your still soaked shoes hit the floor, but you ignored it as you pushed yourself to your feet. Boo curiously paced in front of you, eyes trained on your face as if he too was attempting to read your mind, but you ignored him as you wandered out of the room.

You hadn’t realized Simon followed behind you like a lost dog until you reached the kitchen. Before you could even reach for a cup, he had already gotten one down for you and was at the sink filling it up. Rain continued to fall just as fiercely as it had been during your walk home, and you could feel the low grumble of thunder reverberate through the entire complex.

“Did you walk home?” Simon prompted as he held the cup for you to take. He was trying to test the waters. Trying to figure out why you were home, but not fully there with him. In a way, you reminded him of himself, half awake, walking around the house smothering toothpaste on his face in a traumatic driven daze.

“Yeah,” you answered bluntly. Sniffling, you raised the cup to your lips and took a small sip of water before continuing. “My manager was just, I don’t know. It doesn’t matter, I’m probably fired anyway.”

“Fired?” Simon repeated, the disbelief obvious in his voice despite how hard he tried to keep his tone neutral.

You really didn’t want to talk about it. Because you could say that you smashed Jace’s face with your elbow, and you could say that you didn’t like the sound of his shoes, or how he touched your shoulder. That was easy. Those were facts. What you didn’t want to explain was why. Why you responded with such violence, why the sound of his shoes ignited some deep fear you tried to smother, what you were reminded of when he touched you.

So you looked around the kitchen in an attempt to distract your brain enough to come up with a lie. You had always been so terrible at lying, and you knew Simon was aware of that fact, too. Eyes focusing around the room, you looked everywhere as long as it wasn’t at Simon. An old grocery list held up by a magnet on the fridge. The slightly cracked handle on the microwave. Simon’s jacket bunched up on the counter.

A boiling heat rumbled in your chest when your eyes landed on a small cartridge that slid halfway out of the pocket of his jacket. At first you thought your eyes attempted to play a trick on you. Something that the Ambien made you hallucinate. But the more you focused on it, the clearer it became; as did that anger that threatened to engulf you.

“Have you been smoking?” you asked, eyes refusing to tear away from his jacket.

Simon followed your gaze, and the muscles in his throat flexed as he swallowed. You didn’t even give him time to answer before you set your cup of water on the counter next to you and snatched the cigarettes out of the jacket. Why did the sight of it make you so angry? No, you knew exactly why. You just kept playing dumb with yourself. Every time you thought about it, you were transported back in time to where the scent of it clung onto Eric’s clothes. How it burnt your nose when he got close enough you could smell it on his breath. It was the first thing you smelled when you woke up on the ground after Adakskin beat you. That terrible smell had haunted you for years, and you didn’t think you could stand it if it started following Simon around, too.

You marched over to the bin on the other side of the kitchen, and Simon called after you but you didn’t respond. Every muscle in your body had grown so taut that you had slightly crushed the cartridge before you tossed it with the rest of the rubbish. A restrained and frustrated sigh left Simon as he reached his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. There was something exceptionally irritating about not getting answers. Sure, he was used to people holding out on him during interrogations, but allies had more or less always been truthful with him. You had always been truthful with him. It would be a lie to say it wasn’t painful seeing you struggle and not knowing how to help.

“Sweetheart. Love, look at me,” Simon urged. It took everything in him to keep his voice mellow, to not get too frustrated. Like Gus had said, you didn’t have the same tools going into all that like he did. Eventually you did turn to look at him, eyes already growing wet. His gaze softened as he relaxed the muscles in his shoulders and face; it was the closest you had ever seen him to looking truly sad. “Talk to me.”

Every emotion that you had forced into dormancy began to erupt in that moment. All the anger you tried to swallow, the grief you tried to bury, the disgust you felt towards yourself; it all came up to the surface. The pounding headache in your skull didn’t help with the tightness you felt crushing your chest, and for a moment all you could do was muster a defeated shrug, hands bumping against your thighs.

“I don’t know how to,” you admitted in frustration. “I don’t know how to talk to anyone anymore. I want to. At least, I think I do. But, fuck, sometimes I think about what I want to say and I sound fucking insane.”

Pausing for a moment, you reached your hands up to rub at your face. It was difficult to tell if it was because of the Ambien or not, but everything felt fuzzy. More than it normally did those days. Your thoughts, your words, your movements, it all felt unreal. Even so, a flood had started. Everything had been building up inside of you for months, nearly crushing your organs with the pressure, and it felt like there was nothing you could do but watch it pour out of you.

“Like, I was fucking kidnapped. That sounds fucking crazy, like something you’d see on a true crime show, not- not something I’m supposed to experience,” you continued, pulling your hands away from your face. “And it’s weird because for a while I was just some sort of trophy for them. Something to taunt you with and it- it was fine when it was just that but fuck Simon he- that crazy bastard he-”

Words failed you, and you choked back a sob as you bit into one of your knuckles. Simon braved a step towards you as the tears started to stream down your cheeks. Somehow, talking about what happened was more painful than actually experiencing it.

“He didn’t even do anything serious so I feel like an idiot for even freaking out about it but I can’t- like- fuck, sometimes people touch me and it’s him. It doesn’t make sense but it’s just- it’s him and it terrifies me. Every footstep I hear sounds like it’s above me even when I’m in a single story building, the smell of cigarettes reminds me of waking up on the fucking floor.”

You choked on the snot building up in your nose and you paused for a second to sniffle and wipe away the uncontrollable swell of tears that fell from your eyes. Something in you urged you to stop talking, to just shut up before you said something you regretted, but you couldn’t. There was no dam in the world strong enough to hold back everything erupting inside of you.

“Sometimes I think about how he touched me, dressed me in his coat, the things he said to me and I feel disgusted. He ruined me. I can scrub at myself as long as I want and I still feel it. I can’t get clean. I know it doesn’t make sense but I don’t know how else to explain it,” you continued.

Simon only grew closer, slowly, as if he was trying to coax a wild animal into his grasp. Maybe that’s what you had become. Some feral beast that took too much effort to love. He was close enough for you to grab, and you wanted to so badly it ached. You wanted for him to reach out and swallow you whole because maybe then you’d finally be clean.

“And I want to tell you everything but I feel so ashamed to be alive right now,” you sobbed. “He ruined me. That sounds so fucking stupid but he- I wished he had been worse. I really, really do. They fed me and kept me alive and kept me clean like a goddamn pet when really the whole time I wished they would have killed me already because I felt like I was betraying you by being unharmed. But they didn’t. And I’m still alive, and I don’t think I’m supposed to be because I’m not- I don’t think I’m really here.”

There it was. Bubbling in the back of your throat. The confession that felt like it would kill you if you admitted it out loud. But there was no stopping it. All you had ever done was watch your life go by from the sidelines anyway.

“I can hear something that reminds me of being back there, and I know. I know why it scares me and what it reminds me of. I can reach out and talk to you because I know- I hope that you still love me after everything but I just can't because I’m not really here. I’m still in that fucking basement, Simon. And I want to be here with you, and I want to feel better but I’m stuck there.”

You hadn’t realized how close Simon had gotten to you until his hand brushed against your upper arm. That was the last straw. Whatever composure you attempted to hold together shattered, and a moment later you found your face buried into his chest. His arms wrapped around you so firmly it was like he attempted to hold you together. When your knees gave out underneath you, Simon fell with you. Gently, he lowered the both of you to the ground so that you sat in his lap while he leaned against the cupboards under the countertop.

Each sob rattled your body so violently you were sure you would break apart then and there, but Simon wouldn’t let you. His hand engulfed the back of your head where he kept you close to his chest, rocking you ever so gently. There was something bittersweet about the way he kissed the top of your head, how he buried his face as best as he could into the crook of your neck. He held you until your body was finished rocking your world with wails, and even then he still continued to hold you.

“There’s nothing in this world I care about more than you,” he spoke once the waves settled. “I wanted to tear the world apart when I realized you were gone, and I thank whatever sick creator we have that you’re alive. I’m not gonna judge you for doing what you had to in order to survive. It’s not gonna make me love you any less.”

His confession nearly had you sobbing all over again, but you bit into your lower lip and forced yourself to keep your composure. You weren’t sure if you even had many more tears left to shed, anyway.

“You should have never gone through that at all, and I’m sorry you did,” he continued. The hand on the back of your head adjusted slightly, gently moving your shoulder back. Taking his hint, you leaned back some and looked up at Simon. His thumb ghosted along your cheek, wiping away any remaining moisture. “We’re gonna get you through this, yeah?”

It felt impossible. Getting through it. Getting better. You wanted to deny it, claim that healing was meant for people who were still mostly whole. But you wanted to get better so badly it hurt. You swallowed and sniffled some as you nodded in agreement, and moments later he pulled you back into his chest once more.

That was the first time that you really felt like you were home. Crumbled on the kitchen floor in Simon’s arms. There was something lovingly tragic about it; about being destroyed and still having someone to love you. It was a promise. The kind that couldn’t be broken. So when he pressed yet another kiss to the top of your head and mumbled the words, “I love you more than anything,” you believed him.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been months since Simon had last seen you smile. Truly smile. Yet there he was, sitting on a log in the middle of the Forest of Dean watching you giggle as you dipped your hands into a small stream. The August heat was unrelenting, even through the canopy of foliage overhead, and he watched as you rubbed the fresh water up your arms. The two of you were roughly two hours into your hike, and it had been awhile since he had last seen you so energetic. Each waving flower, small critter, and neat rock had to be enjoyed, and you made sure to point out everything worth seeing.

Digging his canteen out of his bag, he took a deep sip of water as he watched you pick rocks out of the stream bed. You’d run your fingers over it, cleaning off any clinging dirt so that you could enjoy whatever colors were hidden underneath, and then place the item back in the water where you had found it. Even though your back was turned to him, he could still imagine the grin on your lips.

The last few months that you had been in therapy had been treating you well. There were some things that were still difficult, old wounds that would never quite heal right, but you laughed more often, and talked as if you had never known a moment of silence in your life. It felt nice. Better. Things would never be back to how they used to be, though sometimes he wished they would, but it was more than enough to hear you laugh again.

A gasp left you, and Simon watched as you slowly straightened into a standing position. Knowing that he was about to be beckoned over, he hid the canteen away in his pack once more before sliding off of the log he had been using as a bench.

“Simon, come look,” you said quietly, as if afraid to disturb something.

With careful feet, he snuck up by your side where he was quick to notice what had caught your attention. A small dragonfly had perched itself on the tip of your forefinger where its wings glinted like church windows in the obscured sunlight. It stayed remarkably still for a creature that chose an excited human to rest on. You whispered how beautiful it was, how the blue of its body mirrored that of the sky, or how the pattern on its wings could be put in a museum.

Once it had its fill of compliments, it fluttered off of your finger and back into the heart of the forest where it vanished from sight. You stood there for a moment with Simon by your side, the toes of your shoes just kissing the crystal clear stream water by your feet. Everything was fresh, warm, and real. Nature surrounded you on all sides, and it was the most free you had felt in a long time.

“I’m excited,” you suddenly blurted out, attention turning to Simon. “To move into our new place.”

He hummed in response as his hands found your hips, gently pulling you closer to him. Smiling, you leaned into him with the palm of your hands flat against his chest. He looked at you with such adoration, like even after all that time the two of you had been together he still couldn’t quite believe you were his.

“It’ll be a good workout. Lifting all those boxes,” he quipped with a slight smirk. “For me, anyways.”

Playfully, you rolled your eyes and swayed in his arms, yet your gaze found its way back to those lush, dark eyes of his. As if your bodies were magnetized, his lips found yours in a sweet, deep kiss, and the warmth of the sun couldn’t even compare to the warmth that ignited inside of you. And it felt nice, beyond nice, being able to kiss him without fearing you’d taint him. You could hold onto him, and lean your head against his chest when the kiss was done, and you were there. You were there in Simon's arms in the midst of a forest and nowhere else.

“It’ll be dark soon if we keep going at this rate,” you sighed contently as he gently swayed you back and forth.

“I’ve got a flashlight,” he said.

“‘Course you do.”

“Always prepared.”

Another playful eye roll followed that comment, and the two of you slowly separated from one another. After recuperating, you started down the trail where you once again continued pointing out every single little thing that caught your attention. Simon watched on with a small smile and offered cheeky comments when it fit just so he could hear you laugh more. It was freeing to be out there in the fresh air, away from the noise of the city. It was even more freeing to know that soon you would be in a place where everything felt different and clean. Soon, you and Simon would be able to start over again, and you couldn’t help but grin to yourself at that thought.

As far as you were concerned, each step you took along that trail was another step closer to getting out of that basement.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here @spookyscaryspoon

find my taglist here

#simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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victoriadallonfan · 27 days

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I saw a really funny meme about Victoria’s interaction with Gong, and it made me think…

There’s probably a LOT of unexplored potential in bias and prejudice against Cauldron capes, right?

What kind of micro aggressions can form due to this? How does it interact with capes in the same team, politically?

For context:

- Dying 15.3

Victoria gives a pretty well explained summary of Shaker-Movers, helping to explain why the cape is acting like she has PTSD (which is why Vic’s orders work and Gong’s didn’t), and Gong’s simple response is that she is a Cauldron cape.

Ergo, she wouldn’t have these issues like “real” capes. Right? Victoria wants to argue against it, but she has no real proof of this. She has theories but that’s all they are. Theories.

But WE know the truth. Victoria is correct in that vial capes get powers based off of their personality and mental states!

Battery was a passionate and fiery person who uses memories of staying calm, using breathing techniques from her past to help her manage her fear and pain, which gave her the power to become untouchable so long as she forces herself to remain calm and unmoving to charge up.

Newter was insensate with pain, delirious, and his body torn apart when given his vial, and he gained a body that deals with damage, heals, and induces delirium in others.

Sveta was trapped, torn to shreds, skin peeling off in ribbons and trapped metaphorically in a body that wasn’t right for her. She was given ribbons that could get her out of danger, that would provide and protect her with minds of their own, and a body that was what she wanted while still not being hers.

And WB did a great breakdown of the travelers:

There’s more to explore like how Alexandria had a desire to remain young, a mind foggy from drugs and a body sensitive to pain etc etc, but the gist is that cauldron capes DO have power issues related to what they can do. And according to Battery, they experience mind boggling amounts of pain with each drink of a vial.

However…

Would non-cauldron capes even care?

When Taylor learns about cauldron capes, her first reaction is disgust that these people didn’t earn their powers. That they didn’t suffer like REAL Parahumans did.

Even Victoria is offended when she learns Dean was a cauldron cape, as the intimacy of sharing their trigger events was seen as the next step of their relationship.

When Legend explains how they all should have had trigger events, but didn’t, it falls on deaf ears. No one responds to him and Taylor doesn’t give his words much thought at all.

And why should they? Cauldron capes are liars. They’ve been lying all this time. Nothing they say could be taken at face value. Eidolon could give a huge public speech about being born disabled, suffering from seizures, and his suicide attempts… and it would mean nothing.

He LIED to them about his origins. An unspoken rule has been broken. He didn’t suffer enough to earn his powers.

It’s interesting to me that the Undersiders nor Breakthrough had someone who was a voluntary cauldron cape. Sveta was an advocate for C53’s and hated Legend for being part of Cauldron, but we don’t hear her thoughts on people who simply bought powers. Taylor never knew Accord and Citrine were Cauldron until the very end.

I don’t know how to end this, but his line sticks out to me:

- Blinding 11.5

#parahumans #wildbow #ward #ward web serial #worm #wardblr #victoria dallon #antares #glory girl #wormblr #worm web serial

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forgiveness-in-the-misery · 9 months

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My reminder to put out that Toki's not poorly written and that the way he behaves in Army of the Doomstar and the way he behaved post season two wasn't the creators of the show thinking "if he talks more femme and acts like a kid it's funny" it was literally the progression of a character with canonical bipolar disorder and severe PTSD.

Toki was as a lot of people point out "normal" or close to it when season one and some of season two aired, but that's also total bull shit. Toki acted "normal" as people like to say during season one, but only until the episode featuring their parents which involved Toki not speaking at all the entire episode, he just fucking shuts down and goes completely catatonic and looks terrified like a nightmare followed him into his real life.

The shit with the little girl dying happened which further traumatized him, his guitar teacher died, both ending up with pictures on his bedroom wall to remember them by due to their deaths impacting him heavily because he blames himself for them dying.

Then his abusive father gets sick and Toki forgives him because it's the mature thing to do, not the right thing to do by any means, but he has been made to feel by society that he should forgive his dad because it's what he's supposed to do. Despite the fact his father never voices regret for abusing Toki and even has the balls to ask his son to take him to his childhood home one last time.

Then Toki pretends he's fine and it's okay, but then at the Snakes N' Barrels concert sees a trigger and goes off beating a man possibly to death in a fit of rage.

After that the finale features him getting totally drunk all day long so that he doesn't have to cope with anything that's happened in the past couple of months.

Then Offdensen dies.

Then season three we see him doing okay in some episodes while in others he's more petulant and depressive and angry or acts more immature than other times, then Dethzazz happens and we get a very full view of the sort of physical abuse he endured through his childhood especially at the hands of his father. He never calls it abuse, he claims he deserved the punishments for making mistakes despite the fact nobody deserves the horrific shit his dad did to him.

After that, again Toki worsens and regresses more often than he was before, he clings more to Rockzo and tries to cling to his friends but often they distance from him.

Season four he clings to Magnus and we see Toki regress the most, then the funeral happened and Doomstar happened and now we have Army of the Doomstar where he is just completely fucking shattered which makes sense.

His kidnapping and torture just happened, he barely has had time to recover before the world is actively ending and the sky is falling and the world is burning down around them. He's had no time for therapy or counseling or medication etc so his friends, Pickles specifically are just coping with this situation the best they can while not being able to actively help him at all, because they can't. Plus again the world is a burning pile of broken satellites and collapsing buildings so that is an additional stressor on top of everything else Toki has been through very very recently.

So just want to put this out there before anybody says it's cringe or weird or bad writing that somebody with very severe PTSD is not handling life well or handling it at all.

#metalocalypse

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jennay · 7 months

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I've Changed

Request: Hey, angel, I read (and cried too much) what you wrote to the anon-older-relative and I would worship you if you wrote something almost in the same tone, like, Noah arriving home, seeing the reader's father screaming insanely at the reader and how he would interfere seeing how terrified the reader would be.... Sorry if it's too much. Kisses kisses kisses 💋

Noah Sebastian x reader

Word Count: 2800ish

Warnings: Verbal abuse (from a parent) insinuating physical abuse. Talks of childhood trauma. Lot of angst with a fluffy ending.

An: please do not read if any of the above things will trigger you. It goes straight into it.

Noah Master List

Growing up was a nightmare when you lived in a world of chaos, especially when the ones who were supposed to protect you were the ones who made you feel the most afraid.

You couldn't understand it. Why did he single you out? What did you ever do to him? Was it because your mother left him, and he saw her face every time he looked at you and felt rage? Was it because he blamed you for his loneliness and misery?

It wasn't your fault that you were the spitting image of your mother that you smiled like she did, or you had the same eye color and freckles.

You remember late nights waiting for him to get home from the bar. You'd be watching TV in the living room, and he would thank you for helping with your siblings and tell you how helpful you were, but the next day, if the twins weren't up on time, he would scream at you, belittle you, and tell you how you acted just like your mother.

How confusing for a child.

You were twelve the first time he decided to let you know how worthless you were. How ungrateful you were when you forgot to empty the dishwasher, how you couldn't do anything without him having to tell you twice. You weren't overwhelmed because you raised your siblings and met their needs. You were just lazy.

It was almost like he forgot you were a child still needing a parent.

Salty tears would pour down your red, flushed cheeks, landing on your trembling lips. You'd look away, feeling embarrassed by the awful things he'd say to you.

You learned over the years how to tune out the broken plates thrown on the ground. The beer bottles hit the walls—the screams he directed at you to get his point across.

You'd race down the hallways, entering your sibling's room, slamming the door shut, locking it, and pushing the dresser in front of it. You shouldn't have had to know to do those things.

When you were sixteen, you already started showing symptoms of PTSD, and even though you hid it the best that you could, it started to show through your personality; counselors kept an eye on you at school, and teachers often made notes about the changes in your grades, the way you talked, the way you acted. You refused to admit it, so they were powerless to help.

You got your first job that year and vowed to save every penny until you could escape.

The guilt you felt when you did leave was almost unbearable. Telling your two younger siblings was like swallowing razor blades. Each word was a jagged piece of glass, cutting into your throat with every syllable.

You should've been happy to turn eighteen but weren't because you were no longer allowed in his house and didn't know if your siblings were safe.

You remember being black-out drunk at a party with strangers when you were hardly nineteen. You told someone about it all. You didn't mean to, but it all came out when you were drunk and tired and didn't want to fight anymore. You were ready to give up. The person you told became your best friend; luckily, he never judged you or thought of you any less. He once told you he admired how fucked up you were, and back then, you guessed it was a nice compliment.

Noah often helped you through hard times, whether listening to your problems, cheering you up, or comforting you.

You were attached to him but in a spiritual way. You felt safe with him, something you rarely experienced with men, and you didn't want to risk ever losing him but often felt one day you'd fuck up and lose everything you worked for.

At age twenty, your younger sister and brother lived with you. You became a parent without any legal rights, and because they were still underage, you couldn't legally control the situation.

Sometimes, your dad would go weeks without saying anything about your brother and sister living there, and other times, he would pull a control card and force you to bring them home at one o'clock in the morning.

You grew tired of the random phone calls and the threatening text messages. The way your dad would randomly show up at your house, but you couldn't make it stop. You'd ask him to leave, and chaos would begin just like when you were a kid, shooting you into this weird panic-like state, and you couldn't do anything about it.

This cycle continued for the next year and a half, but it was worth it to you. You needed them to know they were loved and wouldn't abandon them. You wouldn't give up hope, and they could always find safety with you, and they did.

The three of you eventually found an apartment together when the twins hit eighteen, and even though it was hard, you always had backup from Noah.

He'd often come to hang out at your apartment with the twins, even when you weren't home. He wanted them to feel safe and like they didn't need you there every second of the day; he wanted them to know they could trust him.

Noah and your brother, Luke, bonded over music, sharing their favorite songs and artists and sometimes jamming together on the guitar. Your little sister felt like she had an extra protector who cared for and defended her from bullies and dudes who tried to fuck with her.

Noah gladly took that role, knowing what the three of you had gone through, and treated you like his little family.

Later, your relationship with Noah changed, and you noticed he acted differently around you. He became more affectionate and attentive, holding your hand, complimenting you, and giving you meaningful gifts. He stayed the night in your bed and looked at you with a different intensity in his eyes, making your heart flutter. You knew what was happening but were afraid of what this meant until you realized you felt the same way.

You couldn't trust anyone else like you trusted Noah. He was your best friend and your soulmate. He eventually convinced you a year later that the twins were old enough to handle the apartment independently and that moving in with him would be a good idea so you could grow with one another happily.

Noah promised to take care of you in every way possible, to support you emotionally, physically, and even financially if that's what you wanted. He said he would always be there for you, no matter what, and loved you more than anything. All you had to do was say the word, and he'd make it happen without any complaints.

Today looks much different from back then. You picked up your sister from her apartment and brought her along to get decorations for your and Noah's home.

You wanted to surprise him by sprucing up the living room while he was out. You had been living in the house for a year and a half but never had the time to make it cozy. It was time to change that.

"I can't believe it's taken you this long." Your sister teased you as you drove back home. "I remember at our old place, you always had decorations, and our home was like a walking festival every holiday."

"I know, I know. But Noah is always busy with work, and so am I." You parked the car in the driveway and grabbed the bags. "Life gets too busy sometimes."

You feel fear as you notice the front door is ajar. You exchange a worried glance with your sister and gesture towards the entrance.

Whoever broke in must have known the security code because the alarm didn't go off.

You quickly text Noah and tell him what's going on. He replies that he's on his way home as fast as possible.

"Are you crazy?" Your sister screams. "Don't go in there! That's how people get killed!"

You ignore her warning. You think it's unlikely that the intruder is still inside; they wouldn't have left the door cracked.

You gently push the door open and step into the living room. Everything looks normal until you hear a clinking noise from the kitchen.

You cautiously peek around the corner, your heart pounding in your chest. You're ready to scream at the sight of the intruder, but you're shocked when you see your dad opening a beer. What the hell?

You let out a sigh of relief, but you forgot to text Noah that it was a false alarm. "Hi?" You say, confused. "It's dad." You tell your sister, Brianna.

"Hi." He says, slouching against the counter and waving casually. "You're late today. Don't you usually get home around 3 p.m.?"

You drop the bags on the wooden floor. "Are you spying on me now?"

He laughs at your remark. "Well, I know I'm not welcome here when your boyfriend is around, and sometimes I like to see my daughters."

"Yeah, right." You sneer. "If you wanted to see us, you could just call me like a normal person instead of breaking into my house."

He gulps his drink. "It's not breaking in if I know the code. Using your birthday is pretty obvious." He smirks, "You're not smart enough to use something people won't guess?"

You feel anger. Old familiar feelings come back, reminding you of his abusive nature. "Go upstairs," You tell Brianna. She hesitates, wanting to stay with you. "GO!" You yell at her, and she nods, running up the stairs to your and Noah's room.

You want to protect her from any cruel things he might say.

"You're not her fucking mother." Your dad says to you with a bitter tone. "Though you've always thought you were."

"Maybe because you treated me like I was her parent?" You take a deep breath, feeling his gaze burn holes in you. You wished you wouldn't have said anything.

"I never fucking did that. You took the kids away from me and made them hate me." He says, walking closer to you.

You shake your head, feeling yourself shut down; he's backing you into a corner like old times. He stops before you, barely inches from your face, and laughs.

"Fuck." You mutter, shaking at your core.

"What, do you think I'm going to hit you?" He asks, stepping closer to you, his hand slightly raised. "I haven't seen you in two years, and you're still that same pathetic, scared little girl." His hand falls to his side, but he remains towered over you, using his height to intimidate you. "You'd think you would have grown up by now?" He notices you glancing at the front door, "Waiting for someone? That boy is a twig. Do you think I'm scared of him?"

You back away, stumbling on the rug and falling onto the floor. Your hands burn from trying to brace yourself but only hitting the hardwood with your bones.

You hear the front door squeak open, and Noah's voice fills the house. "Babe?" He calls.

Noah's eyes widen at the sight of you on the ground. He quickly runs over to you, lifting you into his arms and holding you close to his chest. His hand comes to your face, searching for signs or evidence you were just hit.

He doesn't know what he would do if that were true. Your heart beats fast in your chest, making you feel faint like you'll pass out. Your face has gone blank, and your breath comes in short gasps, showing Noah your panic.

He helps you stand up and creates a safe space around you as his arms wrap you in a protective hug.

"I think it's time for you to go," He says, his voice low and steady, already annoyed from having to leave the studio for something that wasn't an emergency.

"This is none of your business." Your father says, puffing his chest. "I'm trying to talk to my daughter."

"It is," Noah replies, stepping before you to shield you from anything he might do. "This is my girlfriend and my home, and you're not welcome here. That's why you broke in like a thief."

The air is thick as Noah glares at him, challenging him to make a move, not budging or losing his nerve. Protecting you was his primary goal.

"Can you tell him to chill out?" Your dad sneers at you, trying to get under your skin. "It's like dealing with a mad dog."

Noah mockingly laughs. "You're at least thirty years older than me, breaking into my place trying to bully my girlfriend and constantly terrorizing Brianna and Luke, but I'm the crazy animal?"

You touch Noah's lower back with your hand, looking up at him. You know you don't have to be here for this; it's probably better if you aren't.

"Brianna's upstairs."

He nods knowingly and watches your dad as you walk up the stairs.

When you enter the room, she's reclining on the bed, scrolling on her phone. "Is he gone?" She asks softly.

You sit next to her. "Not yet, but Noah's holding him off. I doubt he'll stick around much longer." You hear muffled shouts and tempers flaring, but you refuse to go back down there.

You get up, pressing your ear against the door. Noah's rough voice says, "Look, man, you can either leave, or I can call the cops. I don't think you need another charge involving one of your kids."

It's silent, and then the door slams shut.

You hear Noah's footsteps on each stair, and he carefully opens the door. "It's just me." He says. "He's gone." Noah joins you on the bed, pulling you close to his chest and stroking your hair. "Are you guys ok?" His eyes land on Brianna as she flops down on his computer chair.

"I hate him so much." She whispers, leaning forward and burying her face in her hands. "I don't know why he can't leave us alone." She mumbles quietly.

Your eyes water at her words, and you realize how much emotions you've been suppressing. You kiss Noah and thank him before you slowly walk to your sister, telling her to stand so you can hug her, and she's glad you do.

You feel a soft sigh from her as she wraps her arms around you, and you cuddle her like you used to when you were kids.

You sense Noah standing up, and he sandwiches you in between them. "I'll call the security people tomorrow and change the locks. I'm gonna call Luke." He says, trying to comfort you. "Maybe we just need to move the twins in with us…and go somewhere further away."

It wasn't a terrible idea, but you couldn't tell if Noah was teasing or serious. "That sounds a little dramatic."

You separate from the two of them, and Brianna sits back on the chair. "You wanna play mom and dad?" She teases Noah. "It's gonna be weird when I explain to my friends my parents are only in their 20s."

"Would it be that different from now?" He says smirking. "We've been doing this for how long?" He says, looking at you.

"So long." You laugh.

"You know what? I'm just gonna pick up Luke, and we can all chill here tonight, watch a movie, and slumber party in the living room. It's easier for me to watch everyone that way."

You laugh at his reply and appreciate his willingness to please your clan. "Wow, you're such a hot nanny." You tease him.

He gazes at you, lifts your chin, and gently kisses your lips, making you swoon in his arms. "Careful." He cautions as he retreats slightly to meet your eyes sparkling with affection and happiness.

You lean in, kissing him again. Something about this side of him could make you worship him; you almost forget Brianna is in the room.

"I need protection for my eyes. You're gross." She complains while running out the door. "Go get Luke!"

"Don't be rude to your parents!" You chuckle.

"My fake parents! You know, pretty soon, you'll have your own brats to deal with. Not that I want to hear about any of that!" She screams from the living room.

Noah shakes his head, feeling his cheeks flush; he presses his forehead against yours, rubbing his nose against yours. "I love you and these little monsters that came with you."

You wrap your arms around his waist and hug him as tight as possible. "Well, that's good news cause I think we're kind of attached, and we love you too."

#noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian oneshot #noah sebastian angst #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian x y/n #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian fluff #noah Sebastian x you

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alicerosejensen · 8 months

Note

I just finished your piece of Leon saving reader from kidnapper. So good, definitely one of my favorites for my boy Leon.

I was wondering if I could kindly request a sequel piece of dealing with the dissociative amnesia. I have that and a huge part of it and is forgetting memories that aren’t associated with the traumatic event. You can slowly start to forget everything and you can also sometimes get snippets of a memory back from triggers.

As a Leon lover, I’d love to see Leon comforting and helping the reader with that as well as the PTSD in general.

Of course no pressure or worry if you don’t wanna do this! You’re an amazing writer and I hope you keep writing in the future!! ❤️❤️☺️

Slowly I think that I will start writing again. My mood is still crap, but at least I have the desire to write something. So I'll probably continue to answer requests.

Let this be a small addition to that post about the kidnapping of the reader.

- First of all, Leon will be afraid to leave you alone. He will walk with you everywhere and hold your hand.

- Of course, having experienced such stress, he understands that this will not pass without consequences, so he tries as much as possible to smooth out all the corners and make sure that nothing reminds you of the kidnapping.

- Dissociative amnesia is a shitty thing, you remember that you were afraid, but the memories of those days and the kidnapper himself seemed to be erased from your memory. Leon is only happy about this. He really thinks that you shouldn’t bring this up and constantly tries to distract you from this activity, believing that these memories should be forgotten.

- You instinctively cling to him like a little puppy of a beloved owner. Leon calmly accepts your desire for intimacy with him (not intimacy), so he tries to provide any attention you need.

- Takes you to sessions with psychotherapists and makes sure that you take medications to quickly recover.

- Leon asks to refrain from studying for now. Knowing that the kidnapping took place after classes at college, he is afraid that you will remember the events themselves and you will feel worse, so he suggests that you rest or study at home.

- He cooks food for you (probably simple dishes since I’m sure he doesn’t know how to cook), reads books with you and watches movies and TV shows in the evening, but Leon carefully checks the material before watching.

- Leon will learn different types of therapy thanks to which you can safely express your feelings. Of course he will consult a doctor.

- He really provides incredible support coupled with adequate treatment, thanks to which he sees that you are slowly but surely getting better.

- Leon rejoices at your small achievements in therapy.

- You talk to each other a lot, but subconsciously or not, you don't want to go anywhere or sleep without him. Leon always falls asleep later so he becomes a big spoon in your bed, shielding you from your fears.

- Do you have a fear of the dark? Leon will have no problem turning on the night light just to make you feel safe.

- He will never blame you for your slow recovery. Yes, he's been through a lot of crap and Raccoon City has mostly broken him, but he takes your traumatic experiences very seriously. Leon is not the kind of person who can one day say that he has been through more crap than you.

- If you have a panic attack or react to some trigger that scares you terribly, Leon will immediately rush to calm you down and create a safe zone.

- Of course, he's still a government agent. He can easily be called on a mission at any time, so he will ask someone to look after you. If it's not Claire, he'll just find someone like a nurse.

- However, he will be with you at all critical stages to get through together. You can always lean on his shoulder, especially for you.

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon kennedy x reader #leon x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #reader #leon resident evil #leon kennedy headcanons #leon kennedy resident evil #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon x you #resident evil leon #resident evil headcanons

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cryptid-intraining · 2 years

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My Jason Todd Headcanons:

After his identity was revealed in Under The Hood, Steph was the first person who he willingly let hug him.

He started to let others hug him but to do this day he hasn't been able to bring himself to let Bruce hug him.

He names his guns. However the names keep changing because he is incredibly indecisive, they're always based on literary characters though (and usually he renames them to his favourite characters in whatever book he's currently reading).

He can out bench all Batfam members except Bruce (and sometimes Dick) in the gym but no one has ever been able to out squat him (we don't call him Thunder Thighs for nothing).

When he was a kid he would always try his best to protect the working girls and boys in Crime Alley from being harassed by the cops. He would antagonize and insult the officers until they tried to detain him then he would run off and force them to chase him, leading them away from the workers and their corners and making himself a more interesting target. This would often result in him being roughed up or sent to spend a night or two in a cell.

The working girls and boys adored him for this and would constantly dote on him and jokingly say they adopted him or that he was their son. They'd often help him out and keep him company when his mum's dealers were over at his apartment or when she was sick. They'd even spot him cash when he was desperately low.

When he returned as Red Hood he realised he could finally put up a fight against the cops trying to start shit and he has made it clear that under his watch, in Crime Alley, no one fucks with the working girls and boys.

He had tattoos before the Pit, just really shitty stick and pokes, but because of the healing properties of the Pit mistaking the ink as a foreign body under his skin it 'healed' them so he lost all his tattoos. He was pissed that he had to start over again. Except for one. He had one super embarrassing tattoo that he will never talk about to anyone.

He has an issue with laughter. It's one of his PTSD triggers, even if it doesn't necessarily sound like Joker he can't help himself from flinching whenever someone catches him off guard and laughs.

He hates the cold. It reminds him of being stuck in the coffin, so during winter he piles all his blankets onto his bed, makes a hot water bottle (or two) and curls into a little ball. If he still can't get warm after that he layers up and goes for sprints around the block.

He harbours a deep, visceral hatred for the Hamilton Musical. I will not explain further.

He listens to brown noise to sleep. This is solely because I do so now he must too.

He creates trauma playlists of music. I don't know how to explain this one but it includes songs like HAHA by Lil Darkie, the entire Sobville album by Arrested Youth, and Family Line by Conan Grey.

When he found out the first Robin's name was Dick he burst out laughing and upon meeting Dick he couldn't look him in the eyes for a week without giggling.

Along with being a literary buff he's also a history nerd. He combines the two interests and just has massive history tomes. Him and Damian first started bonding over their love of history, specifically their interest in Mesopotamia and it's mythology.

He had chronic pain. I know technically the Pit would have healed his wounds fully and properly but fuck that. He has flair ups from old broken bones from the Joker attack, he has itchy and sore scars, and random coughing fits from all damage done to his lungs when he was crawling out of his grave. His memory also isn't what it used to be, again thanks to crowbar to his cranium and all that darn blood loss.

#batfam #jason todd #red hood #batfamily #batfam fanfiction #batkids #batman #bruce wayne #comic books #dc comics #stephanie brown #damian wayne #jason todd headcanon #batfam headcanons #headcanon #dick grayson #nightwing

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cultofdixon · 1 year

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I Found Yea, Bunny

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Never did he think he’d find anyone to love him, then when someone did. The world ended • ANGST/SFW/NSFW • TW: Canon Violence / PTSD / Anxiety Attacks / Injuries

Note

“You still moping baby brother?” Merle kicked Daryl’s leg to get him to say anything. “What? Ain’t gonna talk when you’ve convinced me to stay at this pig’s camp? Come on Darylina, you’re killing me here”

“Fuck off Merle. Ain’t you going on that run?”

“Yeah, but the second I come back. No survivors” Merle jokes for the most part as he picks up his hunting rifle. “Seriously. If you’re still moping and being a lil bitch because of Y/N you just gotta get over it. She’s gone”

Hearing that last part for probably the millionth time, only started to trigger him. She can’t be gone kept him standing.

________

“See that chick over there? The short one”

“I don’t care about your next catch of the week, Merle.” Daryl scoffs taking another sip of his beer when a waiter walks by setting now another set of beers without either of them asking. “Hey wait I ain’t—“

“Curtesy of the two lovely ladies over there” They state before taking Merle’s empty one and heading back behind the bar.

Merle instantly wraps his arm around his brother staring at the two with him seeing obviously the more confident one wave at them as the other was more shy.

“I’ll take the taller one with the nice rack, and you take the shy one” Merle whispers patting his back making Daryl choke on his beer quickly wiping at his face as the two made their way over. “Heya ladies”

“Hey yourself, mind if we join you?” The one Merle was eyeing inches closer to his person making the smirk grow on his face.

“This is going to be a disaster” Daryl whispers to himself only for the other woman to giggle to his words.

“Wanna bet who’s going to ruin it? She’s not the steadiest drunk” She whispers back smiling when one started to crack out on his face.

“Bet it’s my brother and…?”

“I’ll bet on my friend Rachael. But I will most likely win”

“And why is tha—“ Daryl stops talking when Racheal suddenly jumped Merle’s bones right then and there. Knocking off her glass and his beer resulting in the broken glass. “Shit.”

“Nights still young I guess” the woman laughs watching the two roll on the dirty bar ground making one of the bar keeps come over to smack them with the broom to get up. “Didn’t catch your name by the way…didn’t get his either but he’s busy”

“Daryl…you?”

“Y/N”

________

“Why did you…not give up? Like the others did…yeah me askin’ shouldn’t matter anymore because..” Carol still couldn’t believe the whole barn situation, let alone what happened to her daughter.

“I’ve lost enough.”

And with that Carol knew more about Daryl than anybody else. He didn’t go into the grand details about it, all that before he and Merle met the quarry group…Daryl was looking for his other half. Not giving a damn of what Merle had to say about it. They hunted, stayed alive, and searched. That was it until something secure came along.

But seeing Rick be with his family, after being separated for months…Daryl wanted that same feeling. That same joy of being reconnected with the one you love.

Now the second good thing after the CDC, the farm was up in flames as Daryl got him and Carol out of there on his bike.

________

“Hey stranger” Y/N smiles letting Daryl into her studio as he was already looking around the place.

“You took these?” Daryl points to the still of the wildlife on one of the many tables as Y/N walks up beside him smiling.

“Yeah, cool right?”

“How’d yea manage to get them to stay still?”

“You said you hunt right? With your brother?” Y/N tilts her head waiting for Daryl’s confirmation which was a nod and a grunt. “Imagine without your weapon and bright orange vests…a camera and a bit more camouflage”

“You…being careful right?”

“Oh I don’t do this in hunting grounds, or well. Forests that have been reported to have people hunt in them before.” Y/N reassures hun with her always shining smile, letting him continue to go through the photos. “I have been asked to document hunters for a catalog. Going to get a few new hunting rifles and a couple compound bows, if you and your brother are interested”

Daryl thought about it as he couldn’t help the joy bubbling in him to hang out with her again. That night at the bar lead to coffee in the morning while his brother and her best friend were still occupying Daryl’s shitty apartment, and another night for drinks but just the two of them to get to know one another without taking care of somebody other than themselves, which brought them to Y/N’s studio that she was also living in.

“Yeah, why not”

Y/N squeals happily and hugging on Daryl as he instantly wrapped his arm around her. “You’re going to look great”

“Maybe bring Racheal to occupy Merle”

“Oh totally, or nothing will get done”

________

Daryl lays uncomfortably on the rocks after rolling down it from when the horse bucked him off and from using what little energy he had to try and scale the steep mountain to get back to the farm. He was in and out of consciousness when he perked up hearing her laugh.

“You’ve got yourself in a pickle, baby” Y/N knelt down beside Daryl’s body gently caressing his face. “Did Merle do this?”

“Nah baby….H-Horse…”

“Now you never learn from that one time, and you weren’t even the one bucked off that horse” She laughs and he couldn’t help the painful smile he wore listening to her. He was willing to die just listening. But he couldn’t. “Stay awake D. Once you find that sweet girl, you gotta find me.”

And with that. He did his best. His best got him back to the farm, walker looking and all, next thing you know.

Fire

Thud

Pain. A whole lot of fucking pain.

Once they questioned Daryl about what he found and Hershel having his priorities confirmed, he was finally left alone to recover in the safety of the house. Letting him get some much needed sleep.

________

Daryl watches her sleep peacefully beside him listening to her cute little snores and watching her curl up inching closer to his person. He couldn’t help himself by closing the space and gently wrapping his arm around her sleep form feeling her do the same pulling herself into his chest. He smiles listening her satisfied sigh when she finally got comfortable in his embrace.

“Stop watching me and sleep…” Y/N mumbles in a sleepy daze, smiling feeling him shift to cage her in his embrace. “Goodnight baby”

“Sweet dreams bunny”

________

He couldn’t help the tears that spilled waking up the next morning.

•

The prison became their home after they lost so much and fought for their safety.

Daryl wishes that the bus of Woodbury folk held his other half in it. But as he came to disappointment once again, he went back to it. Taking daily runs just to search for her and would always come back empty handed on that front. At least he doesn’t have to watch his found family starve or freeze to death given he’s been bringing back everything he could find. Feeling a little bit of joy in their happy faces when his runs were never focused on that to begin with. But just as important.

“Hey Daryl, hold up a sec” Glenn calls out to him right as Carl and Rick were about to open the gates for him.

“Need somethin’?”

“Yes and no…” He sighs. “We need to save up on gas for the run to that mega store. Don’t get me wrong, what you’re doing is helpful. But we really need to be more careful with our limited supplies”

Daryl knew he was using the supply they’ve had to do these runs and it was going to be brought up eventually. Guess his spontaneous runs at any hour, every day, have come to an end.

“Hey pookie” Carol smiles, enjoying the fact that that nickname annoys Daryl, watching him sit down beside her at one of the tables outside. “Couldn’t go on the run?”

“Got told not to. It’s whatever”

“Mmm. Is it though?” Carol nudges Daryl for more of what’s on his mind. More of why he does these runs. “You’ve always been looking for something and every time you come back with much needed supplies…but the look of disappointment rest in your eyes. Daryl what are you looking for out there?”

Carol is one of the few that Daryl trusts with his life and part of him didn’t want to talk about it. Or it brings the thought of loss back in his mind. The same thought that has him laying wide awake at night or waking to the anxiety inducing nightmare that his other half was ripped apart from the undead and or tortured by the monsters of men that litter the new world. But he couldn’t keep it a secret for much longer…

“My girl”

________

“Hey! You made it” Y/N smiles removing herself from the small group surrounding one of her photos displayed so that Daryl could happily bring her into his embrace. “Surprised Merle released you from whatever devilish act he had planned”

“A six pack did it”

“Figures” Y/N smiles parting from Daryl just enough to take his hand and walk with him through the whole exhibit. It was more than her art on display but Daryl could care less about the rest. Only hers was the best.

Daryl waited for the showcase to be over and he hung back to help take down what wasn’t sold of Y/N’s work. But also for him to have a more intimate moment with her.

“I’ve got somethin’”

“Yeah?”

“And I don’t wanna scare yea off, or think I’m moving too quick” Daryl sets down the once hanging piece to lean up against the wall before reaching into his pocket to take out a ring. Y/N was about to drop the pieces she was holding if Daryl didn’t explain himself right away. “It ain’t engagement. Even if I’m sure yer it for me, more a promise. Until the real deal”

“D, this isnt like…the blood money from Merle—-“

“Nah I stopped doing his crazy shit a bit ago. Have been doing commission for bikes and got a gig at a garage…you’ve…made me better and just wanted to do somethin’. Showed me love without consequence or pain…I just. Gotta know—-“

“I love you” Y/N cuts him off, setting everything in her hand down so that she could let him put the ring on her finger before taking his face gently in her hands. “You don’t have to say it back immedieatly. Timing is different for everyone…but I love you, and I know I want you in my life for the rest of it. Even after”

Daryl instantly pulled her flush against him feeling her arms find their spot around his neck as his around her waist. Taking in everything about her in that moment.

She was his other half

________

And he was hers

“Aaron, I don’t think these people will take our offering like it’s nothing. It just randomly appears”

“What do you suggest then?”

“We’re talking suggestions now?”

“Yeah, cuz Deanna saw potential with you in recruitment so thought I’d ask” Aaron whispers to Y/N beside him as the two were tracking a group for some time now.

“Our community isn’t the only one. That’s the feeling I get. These people, we don’t know if they got screwed over or not. They will be hostile and we can’t take that like it’s nothing”

“So…give up or what”

“I didn’t say that. Just if we get caught. Or Eric. Stand your ground but not with your weapon.” She frowns not liking the sound of the commotion coming from this group she couldn’t get a clear look of. “We need these people to trust us. And the element of surprise, is awful in this hell” she takes the binoculars from Aaron to get a look but were caught off guard by a walker approaching that he took care of. “Never was much a fan of surprises in the old world…”

“Didn’t you say your husband surprised you with that ring you’re wearing?”

“Yeah but that’s different”

“How so?”

“He was my other half” Y/N stored the binoculars in her back when the rain started. “We should head back to Eric, and discuss our next course of action”

“I agree with that notion” Aaron covered her back as they made their way to the cars they brought out from their community.

________

“One of my buyers, thought I got married because of my ring” Y/N fiddles with one of Daryl’s many wrenches from his work station in her garage as he was working on her car.

“What’d yea say?”

“Played along. I like the thought of you as my husband. My big strong protective sweetheart husband” She smiles watching the tips of Daryl’s ears turn a bright red when he said such as he tried to cover them for a moment.

“Told the guys at the garage yer my wife anyway”

“Really?!”

“Yeah, so they know if they fuck with yea. I’m knocking their teeth in” Daryl held his hand out for her to place the wrench she was messing with in such.

“But they can get the hint just from girlfriend”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the idea”

“Is that you asking me Daryl Dixon?”

“Yea want it to be?” He stops working to look at his girl who became a blushing mess at the thought, especially when he smirked at her knowing damn well she’d like that.

“I’d like some display. Nothing too public. Just us still” Y/N smiles spreading her legs from her seat on his bench for him to slot himself perfectly between them. Leaning into her, resting his hands on the table. “What?”

“I’ve got somethin’ but for now, yer my wife to everybody who asks”

“Unless it’s Merle and Racheal”

“Motherfuckers would be like “took yea long enough” let’s be real”

“Very true Dixon” She smiles pressing her lips against his shortly after as he quickly picks her up holding her up by the thighs. “Baby!”

“Think I need a break with my bunny” He smirks kissing her once more before carrying her inside.

________

“I’m not alone”

“Really now?” Rick glares into Aaron’s soul as he quickly drops everything in his person to avoid getting hurt even further if that was bound to happening. “Who else is with you?”

“My partner and my best friend. Except my friend is closer to this location”

“And y’all didn’t find her?” Rick questions Maggie and Sasha as the two looked at each other confused before watching the retired sheriff take Aaron by the collar. “Where the fuck is she?”

“Her husband was a t-tracker. Hunter—-she knows how to hide. Says it’s what saved her from outbreak day to now” Aaron was close to shaking but what he said perked the attention of the archer who stopped aiming his crossbow at him. “I can call her but you have to let go of me…”

“Rick” Daryl interrupts whatever thought he was having about such as Rick gave him a confused look. “Trust it. Let him. Now.”

The confused look stuck as he lets go of Aaron for him to reach into his bag keeping eye contact with Rick as he took his radio out.

“Dixon, come out.”

The name caused the group to look at Daryl confused but then suddenly ready their weapons to the ceiling of the barn when they heard a loud thud, then a roll, and finally footsteps outside the building. Daryl brought himself past Aaron to the door when they opened to reveal exactly who he’s been looking for.

“I told him he was only going to trigger y’all too—-“ Y/N stops speaking when she locked eyes with Daryl who hesitantly inched closer to her.

Daryl couldn’t help the overwhelming urge to grab her and pull her into his embrace as he brought himself right up to her.

“So, Dixon huh?”

“Like you’d want my last name…” Y/N tried, and failed to keep the tears from falling as she drops everything on her latching onto Daryl feeling his arms tighten firmly around her. “Hey baby”

“I found yea, bunny. I knew I would”

#cultofdixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfiction

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theetherealbloom · 1 year

Text

UNEVEN ODDS - CH. 8

Chapter Eight: Darkness Exists To Make Light Truly Count

Summary: The Reader is dragged into the Last of Us universe and has no choice but to watch the events unfold or will she be able to change what was already written?

Paring: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Age-gap Romance, Violence, ANGST, LOTS OF ANGST IM SORRY AGAIN, Swearing, Suicide, FLUFF, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, the pandemic, character death, INFECTED, MY SCIENCE IS WONKY, probable plot holes, rusty writing, TLOU is dark please read at your own risk!

Word Count: 9.6k

A/N: Did I drag myself through hell and back writing this last chapter? YEP. Was I anxious writing this meaning that this would be the end of this series? YEAH. Did life get in the way and forcibly had to make me catch up with my schoolwork? UNFORTUNATELY YEP PLS–

Song: Someone To Stay by Vancouver Sleep Clinic

Previous Chapter -> Epilogue | Series Masterlist

TLOU WORLD 2023

SILVER LAKE, COLORADO TO SALT LAKE CITY, UTAH – ONE WEEK LATER…

The bitterness of winter as time month moves on, you are greeted with the sweetness of spring. When did your life become a series of countdowns? Was it all just a grain of sand in an hourglass? One moment you were stumbling through the snow, away from Silver Lake. Next, you’re on the outskirts of Salt Lake City, Utah. Roughly 3,534 miles and you’re counting down the hours of today, vaguely knowing about what happens in Saint Mary's Hospital, the operation on Ellie, and the death of a surgeon triggering a chain reaction to stir violence with the former fireflies to kill Joel.

Each step into the city meant the possibility of losing them both to the future you seem to believe is set in stone, their stories already written and their fates chosen long before you had even stepped foot in the reality you couldn’t have possibly imagined existing. So you are standing and listening to him in that glistening emptiness, scavenging the remaining vehicles that contained any items to use. You hear your childhood sympathies banging against each other in a giant communal eardrum circle, trying to drown out melodies you can’t help but hum to. It feels like a part of your past follows you everywhere you go, a ghost you can’t shake, someone familiar but every time it places its hand in your hand, neither one of you could feel it.

Your weight is resting on the counter of the dilapidated kitchenette in an old RV, Joel tries to call your name, but you are now too deep into the thought that you don’t hear his rich and rough voice telling you about the broken guitar he found. Every part of you is somewhere else, a distant and dazed look in your eyes as you feel your vision blur. Joel approaches you cautiously, not wanting to startle you as he gently places his large palm on the side of your arm, rubbing it gently as he spoke softly, “Birdie… what’s wrong?” You blink up at him, your expression weepy and choked up, “Joel… there’s something you need to know.” He’s quick to ask, “What is it? What’s wrong, Darlin’?”

You feel your body melt at the nickname, but you gently place your hand on his, squeezing it as you said, “Joel… I know how all of this ends. I know how you die.” You watch as his shoulders rise, his breathing becomes still, and his expression was mixed with realization, curiosity, and despair. He swallows as he asks, “How… I thought you didn’t know everythin’?” You nodded, “Yes, I swear to you, there were parts I didn’t know or couldn’t remember. Everything except how all of this ends.” He frowns and grimaces, but never lets go of your hand, gruffly he says, “Tell me.” You move a little closer to his warmth, wanting to be close to him as you spoke, “Everything that will happen at Saint Mary's… the decisions and choices you make in the next few hours will be the cause of your death in the next few years or so. The Doctor you kill and um… You and Ellie… I don’t know if there’s a chance of a happy ending in this world or any way out of this besides going back to Jackson and convincing Ellie that she doesn’t have to go through with this or… fighting our way through the upcoming obstacles in our way.”

Joel shifts his weight from one leg to the other, bringing his eyes to yours, and at that moment you knew, the heat that radiates in his stare as he looks at you, every inch of skin comes alive as he drags his hand along your arm to your waist, sliding it and carefully securing you closer to him. Now, you are inches away from your lips to his, his nose touching the tip of your own with your foreheads pressed together, you breathe him in, close your eyes, and sigh in comfort. He cradles the side of your face and you lean into him, he gently asks, “What would you like me to do, Sweetheart?” You place your hand on top of his, leaving a soft kiss on his wrist and then replying, “I need you to stay alive. Ellie needs you… I need you to be here with us. Next, when the opportunity presents itself, please, I beg you, spare the surgeon.” He whispers his inquiry, “Why?” You sniff and feel your eyes well up, “Because his daughter will be the reason for your death. Look, I don’t care who else you decide to kill, just if you can… leave him alive.”

He holds you closer as he shakily asks, “Why are you tellin’ me this now, Hon’?” You lick your lips nervously, placing your head on his shoulder as he fully embraces your figure, slowly speaking, “I… I’m scared, Joel. I’m honestly terrified of what’s going to happen next. I don’t want to lose you… I can’t lose you.” You shudder at the thought, the mere idea of it brings you to clutch him tighter, and he cradles your figure closer as he soothes you, “You won’t lose me. I’m persistent, remember?” You weakly laugh at that, and he wipes away the tears from your cheeks while saying, “Let’s go show Ellie what we found.” You open your mouth to speak but he has already read your mind, “We’ll figure it out and cross that bridge when we get there. Okay, Birdie?” He has changed all of your circuitry, the red and gold, writing all over your being. How he looks at you, his eyes say everything without a single word. You nod and whisper, “Okay.” He presses his lips to yours with passion and promises, “I’ll keep us safe, I swear.”

You step out and leave the abandoned RV, grabbing an old board game, and canned food. Joel yells out, “Ellie! Ellie.” Still, no response from the teenager sitting at the back of an old blue truck, and her mind seems to be somewhere else. “Ellie!” Joel yells a bit louder, which causes her to turn around to look at him, preoccupied, remote, distracted perhaps by the magnitude of what their arrival in Salt Lake City could mean.

“D’ya hear me?”Joel asks through the loud wind blowing through everyone’s hair, Ellie shakes her head, “No. What?” Ellie asks, and Joel excitedly shows Ellie that he found a can, “Well, we found this in there. Beefaroni. Chef Boyardee.” Calling back to their campfire meal, to which Ellie tries to sound enthusiastic, but ending up sounding flat, “Oh, cool.” Joel approaches Ellie, shaking the old cardboard box game, “And have you ever played this? Boggle? It’s a word game.” She politely and quietly shakes her head, seemingly uninterested but still trying to please Joel, she hands him back the box and he says, “Well if you wanna beat me at somethin’, it would be this.”

Ellie manages to nod her head, and you frown at her lackadaisical nature, noting that this isn’t like her at all. You walk to Joel’s side as he calmly spoke again, “Well, all right then. We’re gettin’ close. Hospital that way. May be the one we’re lookin’ for.” Ellie pushes herself off the back of the truck, the sound of dirt crunching beneath her boots as she replied, “Got it.” She grabs her pack while Joel shoves the canned food and board game into his backpack. Ellie approaches you both and Joel rolls his shoulder, showing her the rifle, “Take this for me?” Ellie grabs so he can throw the strap of the backpack across his shoulder, “Thanks.” He grabs the rifle once more, carrying it while Ellie nods in acknowledgment.

As the three of you walked along the ruined highway, Joel begins to talk, “They had a guitar in that RV. It was all smashed up but got me thinkin’ maybe I should find one. I haven’t played in forever. In fact, I was thinkin’ maybe I could teach you. I bet you’d be great at it.” Ellie merely hums and Joel asks her with a sort of hopeful tone, “Do you wanna learn how to play guitar?” There is no response from Ellie, your eyes shift from her to Joel, and you see him frown in concern, “Ellie?” She looks up, blinking at him as she hums in response, “Oh, yeah. That’d be great.”

Surprisingly, the entire walk into the city was quiet, there was no chatter from Ellie or Joel, no melody leaving your lips as you pass by abandoned cars. After what seemed like thirty minutes, Joel finally broke the silence once more, “Okay, so this is what I’m thinkin’...” Ellie already knew what he was talking about, “Cut through that building to get around that stuff, find the skyscraper, go up and look around.” You look at her impressed, while Joel says, “Actually, this time I was thinkin’ we blast our way through that rubble. I found some dynamite in that RV back there.” This catches Ellie off guard, “Really?” While you give him a suspicious look, “The fuck has gotten into you?”

Joel confirms he was joking around as he replied to you both, “No, so we’re gonna cut through that building, find a skyscraper, go up, and look around. But I had you both goin’, didn’t I?” You playfully rolled your eyes while Ellie nods once more. The group decides to cut through the building on the way to the hospital, and decide to climb an abandoned skyscraper to get a better vantage point and lay off the land. The red tarpaulins hanging over the scaffolding, “Look at this place,” Joel says as you all take a good look around your environment, “Talk about bad luck. Military drops bombs, not one of them hits the building you’re trying to demolish.” You peek through the rubble to see the sunlight streaming through, Joel cranes his neck to look up, “No way up.”

He approaches the fence gate inside the construction, the steel rattling loudly as he does, and walks through with you and Ellie trailing behind him. Joel spots a ladder peaking from above as you stand next to him, “I get Ellie up there, you can drop down that ladder down, maybe we go through that way. Come one I’ll give you a boost.” You both turn to look for her to find her looking through abandoned blueprints, you watch as Joel is more attentive to her as he asks, “You okay?” Ellie brings her head up to look at him, “Yeah, I’m fine.” Joel doesn’t buy it, “It’s just you seem extra quiet today, so.” Ellie feels the guilt bubble in her, “Oh… I’m sorry.” While you and Joel shake your heads, “No, it’s fine. Did you hear what I…” Ellie is quick to nod, “Yeah, boost. Got it.”

Joel steps on top of the wooden scaffolding, and Ellie grabs his outstretched hand, readying his stance while saying, “One, two, up.” You watch as Ellie pushes her body weight up while Joel asks, “Ya got it?” Ellie responds, “Yeah. Okay.” She’s just about to put down the ladder, however, the usually attentive Ellie is caught off guard by something and instead ends up just dropping the ladder and running off to look at something. Joel barked out, “God dammit, Ellie! Shit.” You also call for her, but there is no indication she hears you. You and Joel lift the ladder while he yells out to the teen, “You stay there!” To which Ellie yells back, “You gotta see this!” You climb the ladder first while Joel follows behind you, your voice echoes as you spoke, “Ellie? Where are you?”

“Up here!” Ellie says while you and Joel pursue her, perhaps worried at first that she’s in danger. Grumbling, Joel says her name but Ellie is quick to run, “Come on!” You and Joel wonder what the fuss is about, he calls her again, trying to get her to stop running so damn fast, “Ellie.” Again, she doesn’t relent, pushing faster to chase whatever caught her attention. Joel is breathing heavily as he mumbles, “Just wait. God damn it.”

After another flight of stairs, you pass by a ruined wall, as you sidestepped it, what you both find is Ellie, standing awestruck by the sight of a giraffe, peacefully munching on some leaves growing on the building. The feeling of enchantment rushes through your body, the familiarity of the scene that you had a glimpse of during your time back in your other universe. How important this meant to both of them.

Joel quietly approaches and stands next to Ellie, while you are to the left of her. Though time is ruthless, it showed you kindness despite the effects the Infected have wrought on the hope and innocence of the world in the end. But showing and by slowing down enough, a second chance to make amends. Ellie pointedly looks at Joel, “Don’t scare it.” To he replies, “I won’t.” He sets down his rifle, draws his weapons, and gives himself and Ellie a welcome reprieve from the darkness so that the balance may be restored. When the world welcomes you in, you’re closer to Heaven than you’ll ever know. They say this place has changed, but strip away all of the technology and you will see that you all are hunters, hunting for something that will make us okay.

Joel grabs a couple of leaves from the side of the tree and Ellie’s voice is in alarm as she asks, “What are you doing?” He reassures her, “It’s all right. Come here, hurry up. Come on.” Ellie walks towards him, a little closer to the giraffe, while you stand there nervously rubbing your arm. Joel spots your discomfort but quickly reassures you, “You too Hummin’ bird.” You exhaled deeply, trusting Joel and walking closer to the giraffe.

He passes leaves to you both, and there is a form of uncertainty between you and the giraffe, but eventually, you stretch out your hand and the giraffe approaches you, grazing on the leaves you have presented to the creature. When you were out of leaves, it then went to Ellie, happily munching on the leaves she had with her. There is something so precious about Ellie’s laugh. The whole is so much greater than the sum of these parts. You've heard the truth before, for in beauty there echoes a speck of our source. There's a voice inside your soul, that resonates through your skin and bone. Crooked mouth, quiet down, you let your fists come undone. The understanding that miscarried love will be reborn. There is hope in our eyes when we truly see each other.

Joel smiles lovingly at her joy, the honoring of every shadow, and gratitude for all that follows. Overwhelmed, wave after wave, you are more afraid to lose what you have found, even after all this evolving, it still feels unnatural, still pulls tight the muscles, and strains the arms and spine. Ellie’s laughs are melodious as she states, “So fucking cool.” There are no more leaves left for the giraffe to munch on, seemingly done, she begins to trot away. Ellie whines, “Aw, where is she going?” She begins to race after her, yelling out to her two guardians, “Come on, come on, come on, come on!”

As Joel was about to turn and call after her, you grab his wrist, causing him to look at you with concern, “What is it, Hon’?” Your heart melts at the nickname, you give him a soft smile as you took in a breath before speaking your heart out, “I have to tell you something.” He frowns in concern, “Now? Ellie might–” You cut him off while nodding, “Yes, now.” Joel leans a little closer, “What is it? Tell me what’s wrong.” You weakly laugh at his statement, knowing him too well to know that whatever is wrong he’d immediately want to fix it for you because that’s how he cares.

A beat passes between you two, the sound of the wind rustling the leaves, the huffs of the giraffes from outside, and even a few birds chirping, seemed like everything was right where it should be. Joel opens his mouth, and at first, no sound comes out, but he gathers his courage and says, “Not that I wouldn’t say it first, ‘cause I would.” You smile at him knowing what he was implying, and you shake your head, “It’s no big deal,” You try to finish your statement but he cuts you off, his southern accent is more prominent as his voice goes lower, “I’ll tell you soon.” You hold the side of his face, as he looks at you while holding his breath ‘cause you both could, in a voice so soft and sweet, you say, “Until then, I love you.”

The darkness that hangs over him at first tries to reject it as his lips parts in astonishment and bewilderment. He would drag you through the muck while telling you that you belonged to a cleaner lifestyle. He thinks you'd be crushed underfoot by him, that you'd be able to see right through him, that he's just spewing hot air, that you'd be always racing after him as he chases after more svelte models, and that it would be a never-ending cycle. His mouth quivers and his beautiful southern accent is accentuated as he asks, “Are you sure? After everything I’ve done? After all the people I’ve killed?”

You held your breath while you thought about it for a long, quiet moment. “I am willing to fit into any spaces you give me since I am aware of your sharp edges and have seen your beautiful curves. Bring on the muck if loving you takes becoming filthy,” you said. “And right now, I’m pretty in love with you, if that’s okay.”

He leans it to place his lips to yours, kissing you with such fiery passion you had only ever dreamed or seen in moves and read about in romance novels. His lips were warm and soft. They parted slightly, allowing my tongue to slip inside. Your bodies pressed together heatedly, breathing heavily as our lips pressed together. You could taste your shared breath, and feel the thud of your combined heartbeats. And just like that, he did not crave the language he always thought he needed. The warmth and softness of his lips, the taste and scent of his breath, and the subtle movements of both of your tongues. But even though he couldn't say it out loud, it was undeniable that both of their love for each other was palpable. It was in the way you laughed together, the way you touched each other's hands, and the way you looked at each other. Pulling away, to cup your face, and just like that a hand reached backward into a faraway dream and said, “Come on then, we better catch up to Ellie.”

Moving to the rooftop of the building, Joel pulls the door open and you see Ellie happily observing the herd of giraffes. The rusty door squeaks as it shuts behind you, looking over the towers of giraffes walking around the greenery that has taken over the ruined city. You walk over to Ellie’s side, making her the center between you and Joel. The weight of family and the pull of gravity. It seems like growing up didn't take long, you were a family pulled from the flood, you tore the floorboards up and let the river rush in, not wash away.

You recognize the parallel to the first time you stood on a rooftop with Ellie and Joel, looking over the view of a ruined city to find some absolute answer to a world that seemed so hopeless. Joel places his hands on the ledge of the rooftop, and he gruffly asks, “Is it everything ya hope for?” You look at Ellie, her lips forming a little smile, “It’s got its ups and downs, but you can’t deny that view.” It set your hearts ablaze, and every city was a gift, every skyline was like a kiss upon the lips. Joel looks at Ellie concerned mixed with uncertainty, “Look, I don’t know exactly where this hospital is…” The teen’s determination is unwavering as she swiftly said, “Yeah, we’ll find it.”

He releases a shaky breath, he feels his parental nature returning, “Sure. It’s just… Maybe there’s nothin’ bad out there, but so far there’s always been somethin’ bad out there.” Ellie shrugs, “We’re still here, though.” Joel nods, “I know. I’m only saying there’s risk.” Ellie looks away but Joel shifts his weight to lean closer, insisting, feeling a presentiment of losing her, “We don’t have to do this. I want you to know that.” Ellie turns to look at him with furrowed brows and a frown, “What do you mean? What else are we supposed to do?” To which Joel responds, “Nothin’. We just go back to Tommy’s. We forget the whole damn thing.”

“After all we’ve been through? Everything I’ve done? It can’t be for nothing,” Ellie replies evenly. “I know you mean well. I know you want to protect me. You have. And when we’re done, we’ll go wherever you want. Tommy’s, sheep ranch, the moon. I’ll follow you anywhere you go. But there’s no halfway with this. We finish what we started.” She finishes giving her a touching speech with clear-eyed dignity. After a beat passes, Joel reluctantly nods in agreement. It becomes clearer now, if you listen just right, you can almost hear it. The symphony of secrecy, life, the search for love, but finding fear. We could hold our breath forever, or maybe for a while. The best will surely come, until then you’ll feel nothing at all.

You three proceed to cut through an abandoned emergency medical center left over from the outbreak. You see the ruins of triage tents outside, and a brief moment of déjà vu creeps over you, remembering the makeshift facilities and tents from your universe during the outbreak. Some vines overgrow the poles of the tents, there are rotting medical supplies and vehicles. Taking it all in, Ellie wonders, “Was it a FEDRA thing?” Joel shakes his head, “No. Army. They put these places up all around, the first few days after the outbreak. Emergency medical camps. Obviously didn’t last. They had me in one just like this.” Ellie quickly assumes he had his daughter with him, “With Sarah?”

You look at him concerned and afraid that he would begin to lash out in anger as a defense, but he doesn’t. Instead, he shakes his head in disagreement, “No, she was gone already. So what was wrong with you?” Joel points to his scar, “It was for this.” Ellie nods in realization, “The guy who shot and missed. I figured that would’ve happened later.” There’s a shift in his voice that you catch, “No.” He slows his pace to a stop, “Second day.” You stop to look at him but Ellie continues to talk, “I’ve gotta hand it to the Army people and Birdie. They are way better at stitchin’ you up than I was.”

“It was me.” This causes Ellie to freeze and turn around to see the rise and fall of her chest falter. Your eyes begin to gloss over and sting and the thoughts seep into her head with a terrifying blankness. It was nauseating. Joel baldly confesses, “It was me,” he says. “I was the guy who shot and missed.” He then moves to sit atop a concrete barrier, while you and Ellie also move to sit beside him, “There’s no story. Sarah died. And I couldn’t see the point anymore. Simple as that. And I wasn’t scared, either. I was ready. I couldn’t have been more ready. When I… When I went to pull the trigger, I flinched. Still don’t know why.” The raw admission, of him opening up himself to you and Ellie shows how far you three have come. A great tremor took over your body, a tightening of your throat and a short intake of breath, you try and will yourself to not cry. “Anyway, the reason I’m telling you all this is…” Ellie cuts him off, “I know why you’re telling the both of us this.”

He nods, “Yeah, I reckon you do.” And you hold his hand to stop his thumb from fidgeting with his pointer finger, unsure if you were comforting him or yourself. To remind yourself he’s still here. After a moment of silence and uncomfortable realization, Ellie says, “So time heals all wounds, I guess.” Joel ponders for a moment, before deciding to openly admit how much he truly cares for Ellie and you, “It wasn’t time that did it.” He unwaveringly, and lovingly looks at Ellie and you, squeezing your hand as he does. For Joel, everything you’ve been through, all the pain and death, it’s worth it because he has a daughter again and now you. It brings everything together for Joel. He’s succeeded here. He cares less about Ellie’s potential for a cure and more about not losing a person he loves again. He, is once again, whole.

Ellie quietly lets go of the breath she was holding, “Well, I’m glad that… that didn’t work out.” Joel nods in agreement, “Me, too.” He wipes away the tears with his other hand and then moves to wipe away the tears that you didn’t even realize had streamed down your face. The teen awkwardly shifts to move off the concrete barrier you three were sitting on, “We should probably get going.” Joel automatically agrees, “Yeah.”

There's something about sadness that leaves you wanting more. A sickness that breathes… from holding on to letting go, like the feeling of change is almost like dying. You know from time to time that hope seems but a foreign land. A distance that you cannot reach and a language you cannot speak. In his words, the movement of his eyes, the expressions on his face, the rush of your walking. And through all the things you'll find out and will hold on tighter to the surface of life. Like a moth to the flame, we become helpless to the beautiful ghost that true love sheds.

You continue your journey to the hospital, Joel hasn’t let go of your hand as you walk side by side with Ellie, he then asks aloud, “You know what I’m in the mood for?” Ellie quizically wonders, “What?” Joel smiles as he responds, “Shitty puns.” She laughs and you smile at her delight, rummaging her pack to find her pun book, flipping through the pages she finds one and says, “‘People are making apocalypse jokes like there’s no tomorrow.’” Joel clicks his tongue, making a face in mock offense, Ellie smiles, “Too soon?” Joel shakes his head and smiles, “No, it’s topical.” Ellie lets out a giggle, “Oh, I love this one! ‘Moon rocks taste better than Earth rocks. Why?” The man next to you scratches his forehead before shrugging, then Ellie answer, “‘Cause they’re meteor.’” You smile in amusement while Joel shakes his head, “Oh, that’s terrible.” Ellie throws back, “Fuck you. That was actually good.” He disagrees entirely, “That’s a zero out of ten.” You laugh, “Oh, we’re giving grades now?” His southern accent is prominent as he replied, “Damn right darlin’.” Ellie laughs, “All right, all right. ‘What did the green grape say to the purple grape? Breathe, you idiot.’” Joel rates, “That’s a three outta ten.” But Ellie tries to bargain, “Seven, minimum.” He shakes his head but tries to meet her in the middle, “I’ll give it a five. Five outta ten.”

In the moments that you feel that you three are closer than ever before, the world drops out from under your feet. The sharp sound of metal from something behind you causes you three to turn your heads in alarm, spotting the stun grenade, Joel moves to shield you and Ellie, bringing you three crashing to the ground. There is smoke that hazes your vision, and the ringing in your ears is sharp and painful, the world around you is a blur. You make the muffled sounds of Ellie yelling for you and Joel, tall figures with firearms taking her and you away from him. There is always something there, to take your hearts like thieves, there is always something there. A painful strike to the head and it all goes white, to close your eyes, to end this chase while unraveling the most essential thread.

ST. MARY’S HOSPITAL, SALT LAKE CITY — DAY

You slowly blink your eyes open, you hear the steady beat of your own heart with the help of the monitor near the side of your bed, and you feel the plush pillow beneath your head, you feel the cotton of a hospital sticking onto your skin while you are trying to get an understanding of where you are. Next, the smell of familiar antiseptic and bleach fills your nostrils, you first spot that you’re hooked into an IV drip, moving your head to the door frame, you feel your eyes widen and they dart across the room to see Marlene.

You can’t bring yourself to move, as you observe Marlene studying you, finally she says, “You’re finally awake.” You blink once, then again, before swallowing your fears, “Where’s Joel?” Marlene pushes herself off of the wall and uncrosses her arms, “He’s in another room, unconscious but fine. Patrol didn’t know who you were.” Your breathing hitches, “Okay, where’s Ellie?” Marlene replies steadily, as if practiced, “She’s fine. She’s not hurt, mostly worried about you two though.” You narrowed your eyes in suspicion, “You’re going to operate on her.” Marlene sighs, defeatedly she nods, “Yes.” You lick your lips as a nervous tick, “You also know that I’m also immune.” The leader of the rebellion nods again, and you close your eyes to shake your head, “She’s just a kid. She’s everything to Joel… to me. Don’t do the operation on her, take me instead.” Marlene shakes her head in disagreement, “I can’t do that.” You tilt your head to the side, “Why not?”

She heavily sighs, “Your immunity is different from hers.” You scoff, “The cordyceps that she had since birth, grow in her brain, sending a chemical messenger to tell other cordyceps that she is cordyceps. You’re going to have to kill her just to get that damn vaccine. So, just take the plasma from me, it might contain the antibodies that you need to fight the virus.” Marlene places both of her hands on her waist “I can’t let you do that.” Exhausted you frustratingly growl, “Why? This has been the center of debate for years. The fuckin’ goddamn Trolley Problem! Plow into a group of people or turn and hit one person. Forcing you to choose to let other people die, but the solution was so simple.” Marlene takes the bait and asks, “And what is the answer?”

“Sacrificing yourself. And right now, Marlene, I have that choice. Either to let you kill an innocent girl, someone who didn’t ask to be brought into this fractured world to save what little we have left, or save her and all of humanity… with me, someone who never should have been here in the first place.” Marlene hums, “Well, you’re right about one thing… you aren’t from here.” You look at her confused and someone familiar steps into your room, the dark hair, black eyes, his stature lanky and tall, you shakingly exhale, “Adam. How are you even… What?” Another Firefly soldier comes in to retrieve Marlene, whispering that Joel is waking up. She walks away with the Firefly soldier and leaves you and Adam to talk.

He clears his throat, “I’ve been looking for you, and it's been weeks since your apartment burned down with you going missing. Do you remember anything that happened before the fire?” You shake your head, “I remember going to sleep after watching… yeah.” He nods, “You had brought home your research without any of the lab researchers or staff knowing. Your apartment burned down along with the research. I thought it was a little weird since… they didn’t find your body or any indication of you being abducted so I did a little bit of snooping around your desk, found the flash drive of your existing equations and theories before they took it away for evidence, had a hunch you were successful with your research and that you were out there somewhere.”

You manage to let out a chuckle, “Thanks for looking for me… I thought no one would notice if I was gone. It’s nice to have a friend.” He gives an awkward smile, “Did you have to bring yourself into this specific universe?” You rolled your eyes with humor, “It wasn’t intentional, I swear.” He gives you a knowing look but doesn’t tease you any further. Your mind begins to linger on the question you had since you woke up, “Why won’t Marlene just operate on me? It would be the best solution to avoid the upcoming massacre.”

Adam frowns and sighs, “When I first came here to look for you, Marlene had found me and then recruited me to join the Fireflies, but I had told her I wasn’t fit to fight and that I’m a scientist looking for a lost friend in their universe. You could imagine her skepticism but she eventually believed me,” You have a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as he continued, “After we made it to Salt Lake City, I had said that if things were to change, if you were to sacrifice yourself, to take Ellie’s place, it would completely cause the boundary between two universes to erode, and collide, destroying one or both entirely.” You look up at the ceiling, the fluorescent lights hanging from above, “Let me guess, our universe is next to this one.” Adam nods, “I’m sorry. I tested the simulation before I got here… There are certain points that you can change but most of it stays the same.”

“Do you know how this ends?” You asked, he raises his eyebrows, “Which part?” You think to yourself before speaking again, “All of it.” He nods then loudly exhales, “Yes. It ends… in a selfish choice. A lie. But you already knew that why do you need to ask?” Unwaveringly, you stare him down, your voice stern and steady as you say, “Because I’m going to make my selfish choice too.”

It was quiet for a moment, the epiphany kicking in and settling between you and your friend. Adam shifts his weight on the other leg before reaching into his pocket, showing you a small rectangular device, “I managed to figure out the wiring and transmission issue, as well as the power issue with crystalized radium, and stabilized it with other elements. So, I managed to create a portable version of the machine you had. We can go home.”

That is what you were looking for all this time, right? A way back home. Now it’s right here in your grasp, just in reach but you feel no joy. No overwhelming sense of comfort or excitement. Nothing. You swallowed and shake your head, “No.” Adam is taken aback by your answer, “What? But you… your life back home.” You shake your head disagreeing, “That was never my home. You and I both know that. I was already researching a way out of that place, somewhere far away, and now… I’m here, free, and loved.” He shakes his head, “You can’t change what was already written.” You give him a sad smile, “The future is always changing. And I’ll make sure of it.” Adam insists, “And if you can’t?”

You leave all logic aside as you breathlessly say, “Then… At least they don’t have to go through any of the next steps alone.” Adam sighs and waves the device, “What do you want me to do with this.” You raise your eyebrows, “Go home, Adam. Ali needs you there, and as for my research… burn it. All of it, destroy everything.” He disagrees with you, “What?! That’s your life’s work?” You blankly stare into his eyes, “We aren’t ready for this kind of this discovery just yet. The world is moving so fast over there, if we don’t slow down, we’ll crash and burn.” He tries again to convince you to come home, to go back to the simple life you had before, “But…” You cut him off, “Remember what you told me? All disasters start with a scientist being ignored.” Defeatedly he tilts his head down, then nods agreeing, “Okay.”

You glance out the glass window of your room, there are Fireflies running down the hall, and from a distance the sound of loud pops and gunshots can be heard echoing, followed by yelling and thumping footsteps of Firefly soldiers. You turn back to look at Adam, “Listen to me, you need to leave right now. Burn all of my research. I want everything wiped out from the Cloud and every hard drive to be destroyed, all of it. But seriously, you need to go. Joel figured out what the hell was going on and will kill anyone who gets in his way. I don’t think he’s himself right now… so please just go… and take care of yourself and Ali for me?” Adam achingly smiles with tears in his eyes, “Goodbye and good luck.” With a push of a couple of buttons, followed by a flash of bright light, your only chance, a way back to your original universe was gone.

The sound of people screaming and dying was getting closer, the unmistakable sound of gunshots fill your ears and you feel a sense of dread creep through your bones. It is never safe enough to fall in love in this world. How easy it is to give the thing you want the most and punish you for it. But you’re smart enough to know, you can’t escape the truth of what you want. Every move we make will trigger another, and every small mistake will be a messenger. Your lives are weaving like a thread within each other, faithfully sharing in our joys and miseries and all that the world can give.

A firefly soldier tries to take cover in your room, essentially holding you hostage. You stay frozen in your bed as you observe Joel as he stalks over with an eerie calm expression, easily aiming at him, spraying him with bullets to take him down, and you don’t move as you watch him flick the switchblade open, the silver glimmering in his hand, brutally stabbing the soldier, he screams in agony before his eyes roll back, dead. He picks up the assault rifle from the corpse before standing and making his way to your bedside, a sharp contrast to what you had just seen, he leans in to kiss your forehead, “Hey, Sweetheart. They were tryin’ to take you away from me. Sorry I didn’t come sooner.” You take in the grime on his face, blood, and dust, lovingly gaze into his eyes and wrap your arms around his waist, “It’s okay. I knew you’d come lookin’ for me.” He breathes you in, and for a moment, he can ground himself with you hugging him tightly, close to him, but a dose of reality kicks in when he hears footsteps of oncoming Fireflies, he says to you, “Can you walk?” You nod, “The drugs that they gave me might kick in soon, but for now, yes.” He nods and helps you up while saying, “Let’s go get our baby girl.”

You feel the cold tiles of the hospital floor, wincing now and then over the debris and rocks, you accidentally step on. Joel shoots his way through, cold-heartedly executing anyone who dares and tries and gets in the way of Ellie. You know deep down he’s disassociated, disconnected from himself and the world around him. There is no sign of remorse in his eyes, only clear-cut focus and calmness you can’t quite place.

Eventually, you make it to pediatrics with Joel holding a handgun instead of the assault rifle. A sign points to where the surgery room is, as you walk through the hallway, you notice the different cartoon jungle animals painted on the walls, spotting another giraffe, the gentle giant that represented a holy moment of peace with Ellie. You press forward, slightly limping with the wounds on your feet as you two make it to the end of the hallway and into the operating room.

Joel quietly pushes the door open, spotting Ellie on the table, ready to be cut open and dissected. He then pushes the second door open to stand by the door, and calmly he says, “Unhook her.” The nurses gasp and the lead surgeon steps forward, “How did you get in here?” Joel doesn’t care to reply to his question, pointing his gun at him, “I said unhook her.” Before you knew what you were doing you loudly spoke, “Dr. Anderson. Listen to me, I know what you’re about to do next, the moment you fuckin’ pick up that scalpel blade, he will shoot you with no hesitation. He’s not himself right now. So, for your own daughter’s sake… don’t fucking move and let the nurses unhook Ellie.” He freezes, not expecting what you had just said, he looks between you two and Ellie, “We need to do this. It could work, we could have a vaccine. A chance to win.”

You shake your head, “Vaccines only work if there’s the proper distribution. A collective effort to try and solve this problem together. You have no resources to distribute it, even if you did it would take years to form collective immunity and then we’d have to figure out how to get rid of the infected. We have to share each other's work openly and efficiently. So that together we might achieve what we cannot achieve alone, collective immunity.”

Dr. Anderson takes in the information, the true meaning of your words but eventually settles on a decision, one that would have major implications in the future. He grabs the scalpel from the tray, and points it at you both, “I won’t let you take her.” There is no hesitation as Joel puts a bullet through his head, the loud gunshot causes both of the nurses to flinch and scream in horror. There is a flat tone in Joel’s voice as he says, “Unhook her.” The nurses have their arms up, shakingly cowering as his voice booms, “Move!” They do as they’re told, unhooking Ellie from the IV, blood drips down her arm, “Cover her arm.” Joel said and one of the nurses places a cotton patch on top of it. He then tells them to turn around, which all of them do with no question. As Joel carries Ellie out of the operating room, you quietly say, “I’m sorry. Tell Abby that I tried. But the moment she comes after him, I won’t hesitate to kill her.”

You leave and catch up with Joel who is carrying Ellie’s limp body in his arms, the elevator doors open, and you both step inside. You made mistakes and did a few things right. It will take what it will take, baby that's life, you cannot change what you do not own, everybody knows. But if you live deep and love strong you get pretty damn close. The elevator doors open to the basement of the hospital, and you both quickly spot a car ready to climb into to leave. As you quickly walk towards it, you begin to fade in and out, your energy spent and feeling the effects of the drugs they had given you prior.

“You can’t keep them safe forever.” Marlene walks out of the shadows with a gun pointed at you both, and you feel yourself slip further into darkness, you hazily hear the words from Marlene, “No matter how hard you try, no matter how many people you kill, she’s gonna grow up, Joel. And then you’ll die. She’ll leave. Then what? How long till she’s torn apart by Infected or murdered by raiders? Because she lives in a broken world that you could have saved.” Joel nods, “Maybe. But it isn’t for you to decide.” Marlene throws back at him, “Or you. So what would she decide? ‘Cause I think she’d wanna do what’s right because your girl over there was about to sacrifice herself to spare you both and save the world. And you know it. It’s not too late. Even now,” She tucks the gun away back into her holster, “Even after what you’ve done. We can still find a way.”

That’s when you couldn’t hold yourself up anymore, your eyes roll back to your head, you feel your knees give out and your body comes crashing down to the floor. In this sea of change, understanding is our shore, you disappear with no control. The current is strong, your arms are weak. But you are the branch within his reach, though you cannot catch your breath. Joel isn’t able to catch you in time, and it’s as if the world had slowed down to watch your lifeless body crumple and shut down right in front of him and he’s never felt so powerless. He gazes down at you and then at Ellie, considering the rebel leader’s points, then he brings his eyes to Marlene.

ON THE ROAD, TO JACKSON — DAY

With his closed fists, he will feel like he’s succeeded. Outside of the walls of Jackson is an awful place as far as he can tell. You were victims of a constant loss, you three were not the enemy. He is afraid that his plans will lose their place. Maybe you all could hold your breath forever, or maybe for a while, knowing that the best will surely come like sunshine streaming down or the falling of rain.

Through your sleepy eyes, contagiously bright, as you stir awake, you are now in the front passenger seat of a truck you do not recognize, stretches of tall trees whiz past your periphery as you slowly crane your neck to look at Joel, who is gazing at you with relief and a little bit of remorse. Slowly, you see it in his eyes. The landscape of being are endlessly competing, back and forth for an answer to existence that you can understand. Perhaps you’re looking far too closely, you can't see all the evidence in its entirety. The air in your lungs and the complexity of both of your love for each other and Ellie. But love travels like a rumor here, losing form with every ear, just a skeleton of something more.

Ellie stirs and starts to wake up confused in the back seat, “What?” Joel is quick to reassure her and says, “It’s all right. You’re with us. Take it slow. The drugs are still wearin’ off.” Ellie mumbles, “I was with the Fireflies, and then… what drugs?” Joel swallows down his guilt before steadily saying, “They were runnin’ some test on you and some others. Turns out there’s a whole lot more like you. People that are immune. Dozens of ‘em. And the doctors, they couldn’t make any of it work. They’ve actually…” There’s a small pause, a wavier in his voice as the flashbacks come back to him in a blur, “They’ve stopped looking for a cure,” he lies, and Ellie then asks him suspiciously, “Where are my clothes?” He fabricates another lie, “Raiders attacked the hospital. Barely got ya both outta there. We’ll find you two some new clothes on the way.” Ellie senses the bullshit, “Were people hurt?” Joel clenches his jaw before deciding, “Yes.” To which she asks, “Is Marlene okay?” His eyes get misty again as he drives, he can’t bring himself to admit the truth to her or spew out more lies, so he settles on something true, “I’m takin’ us home.” She turns over so he can’t see her face in the rearview mirror. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

You sit there stunned at Joel’s lies and see the strength of his resolve. You turn your head to look at him to find him gazing at you as if asking, begging through his whiskey-doe eyes, imploring you to not tell her the truth right now. You have to trust him, he knows where he’s going. The unbearable weight of a hidden question between exchanging looks, “Will you follow me, still?” You close your eyes for a moment, and Joel nearly falters, readying himself for the fallout, but instead, you take his right hand, with your own, squeezing it with reassurance. Some truths, over time, can learn to play nice and some truths are sharper than knives. No matter what category you fit into, truth's got its sight set on you. The light that we hold must be buried to bloom. And in spite of the uneven odds, beauty lifts from the earth. You’re the deal that everyone breaks when you’re without him. Only love proves to be the truth.

3 DAYS LATER…

THE OUTSKIRTS OF JACKSON — DAY

After a couple of stops, grabbing clothes and shoes from abandoned houses and stores. The car that he stole from the Fireflies had broken down, Ellie sat in the driver's seat as she traced her arms of the bitemark of the first Infected she ever faced. You were leaning on the other car door, right beside her, before quietly showing your arm the bite mark of the Infected a few weeks prior. She looks up at you in surprise, “You’re also… Immune?” You nod, explaining to her the possibility of now having the antibodies to fight the cordyceps infection along with the speculation of the radiation you had. She dwells on that information for a moment before asking, “Did the Fireflies try and test you too?” You look directly at her, “Yes. I’m not sure it worked though.” The lie that falls off your tongue tastes sour, but she doesn’t pick up on it, sensing that there was enough truth in what you said. Joel loudly shuts the hood of the car, “Well, she got us close enough.” He looks behind him before walking towards you and Ellie, “We gotta walk the rest of the way. Probably a five-hour hike but we can manage that. Remember?” Ellie smiles at the memory of the good times of the journey, “Yeah.”

You hike through the woods, taking in the earthly smell of pine trees and dirt. The forest resets in hope, with every crunch beneath your feet, and the two people you hold most dear to your heart. Joel brings himself to talk about Sarah, “You know, Sarah and I used to hike like this all the time. I wouldn’t say it was her favorite thing. She wasn’t a fan of the mosquitos and such. But she was a big climber, or scampering. That’s probably the right word. That girl, she’d see a big rock, and just…” He makes a noise with his mouth indicating that she would bolt right through the trees to climb it, “She woulda liked you and Birdie. Not to say you and Sarah are the same. Definitely different kids.”

Ellie asks, “How so?” Joel glances at her and says, “Well, she was a lot more, I wanna say girly. And I’m not sayin’ you’re not girly.” She shakes her head, “I’m not.” Joel agrees, “Yeah, you’re not. So that. She was taller. She had a killer smile. Again, not sayin’ that you don’t. But you know why I’d think she’d like you?” Ellie indulges him, “Why?” The answer was so simple, quick, and witty, Joel says, “‘Cause you’re funny. I think you would’ve made her laugh. Anyway, I bet you would’ve liked her back.” The teen next to you agrees, “Yeah, bet I would’ve.”

Eventually, you make it to the edge of the mountain top, looking over the view of the community of Jackson, and it is absolutely breathtaking. The breeze causes your skin to form goosebumps, and feel the tickle of the wind behind your neck. Joel takes a breath and says, “There ya go. Not much further now.” He continues walking and you start to follow but notice Ellie standing back, she calls out to him, “Hey, wait.” He stops and turns to face her, she curses, “Fuck.” Then takes a few steps closer to him, “Back in Kansas City, you asked me about the first time I killed someone. When I got bit in the mall, I wasn’t on my own. My best friend was there and she got bit, too.” Her admission causes her to falter a little bit before she says, “We don’t know what to do, and she says, ‘We can just wait it out, be all poetic and just lose our mind together. And then she did. And I had to… Her name was Riley and she was the first to die. And then it was Tess. And then Sam.”

You and Joel shook your heads, “That’s not on you,” he said and she tries to argue, “I know…” He cuts her off, “Look, sometimes things don’t work out the way we hope. You can feel like you’ve come to an end and you don’t know what to do next. But if you just keep goin’ you find somethin’ new to fight for. And maybe that’s not what…” Abruptly, Ellie speaks up, “Swear to me. Swear to me that everything you said about the Fireflies is true.” Joel doesn’t hesitate as he lies, unblinking as he replies, “I swear.” She doesn’t believe him. She knows he’s not telling the truth. But she nods, and says “Okay.”

You hold his hand in support, and then it's just too much, to know that the streets still run with blood. So he tries to push it down, but it comes back faster and harder, tides are changing on a dime. And he’s just trying to keep his head above the water. Surrender's just a word, till you try it out and see how hard it is to hurt with someone else around, you. He’s the worst he’s ever been afraid of almost everything. The skies are clear but storms are always coming. Your gift to him is just to be bracing for the winds he always summons. His home, his heart, thank God you are someone who loves him.

End Notes:

Holy shit this took WAY LONGER THAN EXPECTED THATS ON MEEEE IM SO SORRYYYYY!

ARE YOU OKAY?? GIRLIE YOU GOOD? THIS NEEDS EDITING LATER BUT I HOPE YOU ARE ALL WELL AND YOU ENJOYED THIS CHAPTER! DRINK WATER! BREATHE!

Its was an ACCIDENT! I established in Chapter 1 that it was all vague and a mystery woOOoo bcs uhhh I don’t think I was supposed to already give that question an answer in the beginning of the series cuz why the heck would u still read this T^T Alsoooo cause you did trYYYyyy to but couldn’t (I.e Tess, Sam and Henry, you voicing out your protests to Kathleen, etc.) And as if you had any other option but to go with Joel, Ellie, and Tess to survive yk the Infected :,))

CONGRATS U MADE IT AND OMG YOU LITERALLY HAD THE CHOICE TO GO BACK TO YOUR OLD UNIVERSE BUT YOU STAYEDDD FOR LOVEEEEE HEHEHEHEH

The Birdie had bits and pieces of what happens in the game, and sHE TRIED TO SAVE THE DAMN SURGEON, but obviously, homie got shot in the head :)) So now she has to figure out a way to stop Abby without having the whole story OR INFOOOOO YAYYYYY

Even though you tried to tell him not to kill Marlene or the Doctor, that it would be the cause of his death. But he still did anyway, a choice that was already made the moment you both were ripped away from him. He was disassociating :,) which I relate to Joel bb

OKAY I MIGHT WRITE AN EPILOGUE BUT LOWKEY LET ME TAKE A NAP CUZ I’VE BEEN WRITING FOR ALMOST TWO DAYS STRAIGHT WITH NO COFFEE O_O

Anyways… AHEM… I LOVE ALL OF YOU SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO MUCH! LIKE YOU HAVE NO IDEA. I give you hugs and kisses, and cookies for being so incredibly patient and sticking with me for my first-ever multi-chapter fic. CRAZYYYY.

TAGLIST:

@memento-mora @elijahssuit @tartiflvtte @lillylilly2 @kyuupidwrites @amethystwonder11 @syd-vixious @kidkrow666 @soulofapatrick @ponyboys-sunsets @superflymaterial @chaotic-imposter @vainbimbo @eva-stark @loki-an-idiot @littleshadow17 @undermoonlightwalk @afternoon-evening @notmysunnydale @slurmp69 @gyllord @aerangi @mac5323 @friskynotebook @earth-to-lottie @chaotic-imposter @kodzuvk @hawkins-2000 @reallysparklychaos @trust-dreamcatcher @darkened-writer @memeorydotcom @welcomebackfelicia @rainbowpitofdoom @omg-its-typical-aesthetics-fan @marvelsimpcz @dorck26 @evienorville @munsons-queen @little-miss-bi @mxltifxnd0m @ohjoelmiller @coalix @taestrwbrry @avengersheart @gyllord @valentine-babe@missdragon-1 @ponyboys-sunsets @ipadkidsworld @otternanamilolo @issybee0611 @technicallysassyfox @cupcakemachete @manuchyy @darkened-writer @andyrazzledazzle @glossythor @virtueassassin @witchy-jadda @imonmykneessir @norr1e @mando-bix @thicficbich1 @adoringanakin @lalla-04p @reallysparklychaos @hollywoodmariposa @mando-bix @lunatic1012 @davosmymaster

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x poc!reader #joel miller tlou #joel miller series #joelmiller #joel miller x reader masterlist #joel miller x reader series #joel miller x reader au #joel miller x reader tlou #unevenodds #uneven odds joel miller #uneven odds #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller x female reader

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wutheringcaterpillar · 3 months

Text

Domesticity Series Part 1: The Beginning

Summary: Being the only one seeming to notice William’s ptsd, he realizes that his feelings from the past may be the answer to his future when you come to his rescue.

warnings: depictions of ptsd, scenes from the movie, insecure william, trauma, lies, just overall William needs love and you are there.

All the small talk and music in the room stopped abruptly, catching everyone’s attention.

“Now why would you turn that off, do you not like that silly old song?” Vera snickered, completely oblivious to her husband’s struggle as she was too intwined dancing with the poet whom you’d known to have slept with her while William was away.

It was a shame, William was always a loving, gentle, respectful man that deserved all the kindness, all the sympathy in the world. If only his wife could see in him what you did. She merely watched him come back a broken man yet still found the audacity to conversate and be friends with not a man but a boy with an ego the size of the planet whom she had an affair with right in front of his face.

“Thank you.” William finally spoke from where he was standing against the counter, his knuckles turning back to their normal shade as he released his grip on the wooden surface.

Vera turned, finally looking his way like an utter bimbo, completely oblivious of the fact William’s mind was rotting every singular day, even when he’s asleep from what he had partaken in during the war.

Having endless flashbacks being caused by small triggering factors. He felt as if he were an outcast, still struggling to find his way back to a normal routine. It hurt him immensely that other peoples lives including his wife just moved forward and he was stuck at the bottom of this endless pit of hell. They’d never understand and she’d never make an effort, making him believe she just wanted him for money, surely not love.

He glanced toward you once more, nodding his head in sincerity that you noticed. That’s all he ever wanted from his wife, but then again her wants weren’t anything like his.

He did always think you were quite beautiful, the shyness and humbleness always held an attraction to him, and you were always very kind.

“Well I- I guess I’ll get dinner on the table then.” She stuttered, walking awkwardly between the two of you feeling out of place. She recognized that look, his blue eyes fixated on you from time to time even when you weren’t looking. That’s exactly what she did with Dylan.

The sound of multiple gunshots scared you out from the deep slumber you were in. When you heard Vera yelling outside, attempting to convince William to go back in the house, you knew what he must’ve found out. The poor man’s head was all over the place, feeling like he had risked his life for his country and a woman that did not love him how he loved her. Living in complete turmoil not knowing if he’d survive to see another day, and he wished he hadn’t, he really did.

Scrambling out of bed you quickly fastened your robe, heading toward the house of misery as you liked to call it.

When you approached the door, the sound of the rifle echoed through the atmosphere, it was then you realized you would not stand there, and allow William to stoop to their level.

Walking into the home, Vera was to your right, hands covering her mouth in disbelief as she finally shut up, seeing the meltdown her husband has been having, seeing that he was finally snapping like a small twig under the feet of poor excuses of human beings.

“How can you just stand there? As if everything is alright? Don’t you care?” Dylan’s wife stared longly at him with her tear stained face, confused and too frightened to say anything.

“Your husband and my wife? Rowatt isn’t even mine, they’ve been lying to our faces.” William stood there distraught, a broken down man who had never felt so alone, so heartbroken. Tears rolled down your cheeks effortlessly not only for him but for Dylan’s wife. As of the moment it was clear she didn’t know of the affair when she took a glance of utter betrayal toward Vera with her bloodshot eyes.

The sound of a child crying in the other room echoed through the silent house, but it didn’t seem to phase him.

“William?” You spoke ever so softly, barely moving a muscle as you didn’t want to scare him or make him believe you meant any harm.

Your voice seemed to be the only one he listened to.

Turning his head slowly, hands still wrapped around the gun, Vera was taken aback at how easily his attitude had changed, like the flip of a switch just from the sound of your voice.

“Listen to my voice, alright?” He nodded, gulping back the fear and anxiety, his anger simmering down like the flame of a cigarette.

Noticing the shift in his gun, his grip loosening, Vera lunged to grab the weapon from him until you shot daggers into her unfaithful eyes, daring her to even touch him. Backing away, not wanting anymore trouble she excused herself outside once realizing the hypnotizing effect you had on William, realizing she could never handle him with such care the way you did.

Cupping his cheeks, your forehead pressed against his, reaching for his shaking hand settling it upon your chest where your heart lay. “Do you feel that William?” He nodded once again, his breathing becoming more steady with each passing second.

“My heart beats for you. It always has and always will. Please come home with me. The screaming child means you no harm, he needs his mother, just like I need you. The longer you hear the screaming, the longer you will experience traumatic effects from the war. Please, let’s go back to my house.” Almost instantly, the wounded solider fell into your touch, his head nuzzling into the warmth of your neck, needing to be closer to the woman who brought him so much comfort, so much love without once caring what others may have thought.

He began to weep into your chest, clutching onto your soaked clothes for dear life, dropping the gun onto the floor. Dylan and his wife stay staring, still frightened to move, the sod of a poet disgusted you, the way he smirked like he had finally one his true prized possession, the lovely Vera.

Putting his arm over your shoulder, you picked up his gun from the floor to ensure the others would not take his firearm that he owned before walking him to your house.

He had calmed down once he was away from everyone, just alone with you. You had seated him in the kitchen, insisting that he eat something, even if it was small and grabbed him a blanket from the living room sofa. He didn’t hesitate to wrap the warm fabric around his trembling, frigid body, nodding to you gratefully.

He was almost too stunned to speak and didn’t know where to start on how grateful he was for you. The moonlight shimmered in your hair, his eyes fixated on every step you took while he pondered and took a breath before speaking.

“I don’t even know where to begin to thank you. You were always such a genuine, kind-hearted girl and- and I’ve always had a feeling deep within my heart that I was with the wrong woman.” Carrying over his cup of tea and a plate of graham crackers, you sat beside him brushing his hair back to reveal his uncannily beautiful face.

He was a damaged man, and you were a strong woman, willing to make any sacrifice for him, and his injured soul. William needed love, he needed to know that he isn’t hard to love.

“William, you don’t have to thank me. I can assure you those bastards don’t deserve you or the love you so willingly gave. It angered me, and saddened me to see them take advantage of you and I want you to know you mean so much more to me than you could ever comprehend. I’ve sort’ve always loved you. Now please eat.” He followed your instructions, and to his surprise you made his favorite tea, adding just the right amount of honey and sugar. You stayed seated, sipping your own cup, pulling a book to read to him. It was a love story, about a man who grew up without a family, and a woman that was independent and believed in equality. William couldn’t help but notice the similarities between your own lives. Every word, every annunciation, and the soft, adoring tone of your voice had him feeding and listening intently to every word, even when you stuttered or mispronounced a word he found it adoringly cute.

Closing the book, once you finished the chapter, you settled it soundly back in its spot in the corner of your table, realizing William had finished his tea and crackers.

“Do- do you mind if I stay with you tonight?” His eyes scanned the floor In embarrassment, causing you to take gentle hold of his hand, brushing your fingers over his wounded skin.

“William, I wouldn’t love anything more. Come.” You stood up, and walked him to your room. He felt out of place being in your private area but when you padded the mattress, he took the hint that it was okay for him to sleep beside you.

“Can- can I take off my clothes. It’s quite warm in here and my clothes are still wet but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” He stood awkwardly on the other side of the bed, glancing around unable to make eye contact with you. He didn’t want to scare you or think he’d take advantage of you in any way.

“Of course. That’s alright.” After asking once more, he shed himself of his clothes, deciding to stay in just his gray short-sleeve and underwear.

Taking his side of the bed, the subtle cinnamon smell of your belongings brought a strong comfort to him, and he nuzzled his head into the soft pillow. When you turned the light off, William lay with his back to you facing the wall. He wished he could kiss you, he was beyond grateful for all you’ve done and was very hesitant, he didn’t want you to kick him out, but you were thinking the same thing as you stared at his muscular back.

“William?” He turned around to face you, his blue eyes still finding someway to shine in the darkened room. “Are you alright?”

“Kiss me, you fool.” Slowly, he moved closer toward your body, his hand gliding over the delicate skin of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours. The moment fully sinking in that he did indeed marry the wrong woman. He had never kissed someone where it felt so right in an instant, it felt like an electric current was moving through his veins. Your lips were very soft, almost angelic like, you kissed him with such fragility and patience, not wanting the moment to end. Tracing your hands behind his neck, you deepened the kiss, pulling him against your body. Needing to taste more of him, your tongue delve into him with grace, skimming over his. He tasted of honey and cinnamon, such an inviting taste, so magnetic and alluring. His mind was swirling in every direction and for some reason he felt closer to you in such a short amount of time than he had ever felt with Vera.

Something about you just felt so right, William was unable to break away from your velvet lips, taking much enjoyment in the silk, smooth feeling of your tongue and how you tasted of cherries and rum. This was somewhere he wanted to stay, ignoring the sound of Dylan and Vera arguing outside the house as his lips spread into a wide smile, finally feeling like he had found a home and a future wife to love him whole. As far as he was concerned Vera was history, especially since he found out Rowatt wasn’t his, he found no reason for him to need to stay, but he was determined to take things slow as a love like your was much too fragile, and difficult to find. He wanted to enjoy every second with you, and he vowed to himself, he would be the man for you.

Falling asleep in his arms, you fell asleep with a warm smile on your face, the fluttering beat of your heart being held purely in his hand and his only.

#William killick #william killick imagine #william killick x reader #william killick x you #The edge of love

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