#… and then the world has an apocalypse and everyone dies | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

unadulteratedsoulsweets · 7 months ago

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A DC X DP IDEA #30

Salvage Tomorrow.

Imagine dis...

Every flash who has ever gone back in time tried to make the future a little bit better. From the main Flash Barry Allen to his future grandchild, Bart Allen. But he came from a desolate future, a future of ruins. He may have the power from the original Flash but it had been watered down, he may be fast but not as fast as the fastest man in the world, so the question is…

How did he come back to the past?

He did not have enough energy or power to travel through the speed force and through time to safely arrive in the past without disintegrating himself… So how?

….

Danny Fenton also known as “Phantom” was thrust into another mission by Clockwork but instead of his usual errands where he needs to retrieve something, this time he needs to ensure a certain event must happen.

When Danny asked which point of time he would be sent Clockwork admitted that he would be sent to the future where Dan came from.

That startled Danny because as far as he is concerned the future is now gone and the main event where Dan is formed has been avoided, also Dan is slowly mellowing out and he is very sure Dan developed a soft spot for him. Clockwork sensing his ward’s question chose to open a portal to that timeline and began to explain. There is another event that must take place just as after Dan goes back in time just to ensure he was made, a speedster was supposed to travel back in time to prevent another major apocalypse and he needed a bit of help.

Clockwork also suggested Dan to come along, Dan is a bit skeptical since he left an impression on the remaining humans. Danny assured him that he could do this alone and he had done it multiple times. Dan just snarked back that Danny might be attacked and it would be a shame if he died from a puny human.

With much more arguing Danny was sent back to the past to help the Flash at the time to go back in the past.

…

When Danny gets to the end of the portal, The scene surrounding him is eerie, with degradation and ruins that represent the once-thriving society that he remembers. Collapsed buildings and overgrown plants litter the streets, showing the remnants of a once-thriving community. Danny can practically taste the ash that clung in the air.

There he was, He couldn't help but wince at the future that his future self did, no wonder the Observants wanted him dead the moment Danny gained his ghostly powers. He can barely sense any living being as for the undead one, immediately cleared out of his way the moment he even breathed in his direction. Using invisibility he flew to the nearest human camp that he had sensed after 3 days of exploring for any signs of life. According to Dan, Danny remembers, that he knew there was a small group of humans who survived the initial killings and tried to hide from him

He saw that the majority of them were civilians living off the scraps they had found in the ruins of their cities. Some were trying to plant some seedlings into the soil, but Dan had poisoned the soil with ectoplasm as a form of a slow execution or some sort. All of them are weary and vigilant as if Dan would come back any moment to finish them off.

Of course, Danny can't just stroll there, from the way they tense they would run off any minute plus he didn't know which one would go to the past.

At first, he started off helping them in terms of small things like if they were a bit cold during the night a few more blankets would appear. They were running out of drinkable water, a trail suddenly appeared towards a small creak that wasn't infected by the ectoplasm.

At first, everyone was able to brush it off as a stroke of luck but then the remaining heroes or those who have a connection to the said former heroes began to doubt the sudden gifts they tried to catch the person giving them gifts but it took a child’s laughter to catch their invisible helper.

…

Danny was just dropping off another small batch of supplies hidden a few feet away from the main group so that when they went exploring they could find the said supplies. The group for exploration left the camp leaving with a few children who had survived along with some young adults to watch over the said kids. One of the kids began crying as if their situation finally sunk in, Danny who was still invisible tried to comfort the child but it was then the group to explore went back and Danny forgot to turn on his invisibility, Let us just say panic ensued.

…

After the entire fiasco of yelling, shouting, fear, and screaming they can talk civilly to each other after a few weeks of Danny proving himself further that he is not Dan despite looking like a smaller carbon copy of the man.

Danny didn't want his relationship with Dan to be known so he let them draw their conclusion, he heard from afar that they were slowly trying to trust him as if he was truly Dan they would have killed them already since Dan broadcasted his fight, do you even call a massacre a fight? To enjoy their screams.

Danny was too elated to hear the good news that he missed their conclusion of him being Dan’s son who is trying to do good despite their father being the cause of such an apocalypse.

A Bat, from the insignia etched to their chest, finally interrogated Danny on why is he there and Danny homestyle told them that he could be a battery. At first, a flash of surprise etched on their face then went back to their neutral form. The said Bat member asked how Danny knew, Danny evaded the question and proceeded to insist that he could help whomever they were sending to the past since not only they are missing the needed parts to their machine but they also needed a battery powerful enough to power up the machine.

…

After a much-needed trade and interrogation, they finally decided to let Danny help. With Danny’s expertise, they were able to finish the pod to let one of them travel back in time. Bart Allen was chosen as not only he is a speedster but when it comes to the delicate balance of time travel the Flash’es are the ones to handle it.

Just as they fire the pod that contains Bart, Dan suddenly appears looking grimly at the group, Danny, and the machine. Bart’s final moments before he was sent to the past were the horrified looks from the group that protected him and Danny’s scared/grimacing face at the face of Dan.

…

The last remaining group of humans slowly disappears as a result of Bart’s change in the timeline. The Bat looks at Danny with a determined look trying to blurt out codes to Danny that if he ever needed help the Bats in the past should recognize the code.

Bart and The Last Bat can’t help but get close to the ghost boy who despite his father tries to do good.

…

As the last human disappeared Danny can’t help but blurt out to Dan that it was hard to gain their trust, and that’s why he was late. Dan just rolled his eyes and told Danny that he was there to fetch him since this timeline was about to vanish. Danny the ever petulant child let Dan drag him by the collar to the portal as he watched the reality he knew for a few weeks gain cracks and destroy itself.

Surely Danny thought, he would never see Bart again. He had been Phantom since he was 14 and it had been 3 years since his accident and there had been no contact from Bart.

…

Meanwhile, Bart has been trying to find a Phantom ever since he went back in time. As if the universe is against him when it comes to trying to find Danny, something is at foot and needs his full attention. During his mission, the theory “Phanton is the son of Dan” solidified when he saw multiple cave paintings and even mentioned Dan. Which made Dan old enough to procreate.

…

It was a mission gone wrong that reunited the two. Bart along with Kon and Tim on a usual mission to bust some villain's butt, but of course when things got too well things went sideways, and able to kidnap them.

Opening his eyes, Bart took a good look around him, he was cuffed with anti-meta cuffs that dampened the powers of metas who committed a crime. He along with his teammates are all tied up in some sort of Occult Ritual for the Lazarus pits. Bart joked to Tim also known as Red Robin that this only happens in Gotham and they were states away from Gotham. Tim who is looking at their predicament with seriousness chose to ignore Bart. Bart looked a bit bored and thought that this must be a good idea to page Danny.

As the cult group tries their botched pronunciation of Esperanto, Bart who is known as a man of science just like the original Flash and Wally, clears his throat and begins chanting alongside the cultists. As the mist suddenly invaded the room, ice began sprouting from the floor trapping the cultist inside of them.

Both Red Robin and Superboy are now on the edge seeing the cultists were able to summon something and Bart is now smiling across his cheeks since he recognizes that ice anywhere.

Bart yelled out to Danny in the mist, both Red Robin and Superboy were now looking at him with surprised looks as someone responded to Bart. A white-haired teen wearing royal regalia from his head to his boots with glowing green eyes reminded Tim of the Lazarus pits.

The mysterious white-haired teen greeted Bart tiredly as seen from the deep eyebags below his eyes. Bart immediately went to chatter Danny’s ears off as Danny tried to free them from their bindings. Just as Bart excitedly introduced Danny to his friends, Danny immediately went alert and told them to hide immediately. Tim and Conner who are still distrusting Danny, suddenly yelped at Bart as he dragged them to hide behind one of the ice pillars.

Tim the ever detective tried to ask what was going on and Bart just hushed them with an attitude that they had never seen from the time-traveling teen. A green glowing portal appeared behind Danny and what emerged made Bart’s face turn paper white.

Tim has questions about what is happening and opts to stay quiet and observe. Bart whom Tim knew as cheerful, chatty, and optimistic about the dire situation suddenly went quiet and began to fear whomever appeared behind “Danny’s” back.

The thing that emerged from behind Danny is a larger, buffer version. Of himself with a few details and traits missing from their savior to the newcomer. Danny tensed and asked why is he there and the new commer smirked grabbed “Danny” by the collar and dragged “Danny” towards the portal while “Danny” was weakly protesting.

The moment the portal disappeared Bart looked in the direction where their savior had been dragged off with a mix of confusion and dread and immediately barked at Kon to break the cuffs that hindered his powers while marching towards the direction to the nearest Zeta tube.

…

Danny just answered a cult’s calling not because he wants to evade his paperwork no sir, he is one responsible halfa and he would never use every excuse he can come up to escape paperwork. The ritual that the cult is using is powerful… oh no….. He deadpaned at Dan as he disappeared from the castle.

When he did appear at the scene he immediately spotted Bart, no wonder he heard a familiar voice in between the botched Esperanto. Danny is just happy to reunite with his friend when he feels Dan is fetching him. Danny told Bart and his friends to hide as Dan might scare them, first impression people!!!

Danny wants to introduce to Bart a redeemed Dan after he asks Bart if he is okay with seeing the person who turned the world into ruins. He may never listen to Jazz when she rants his ears out but some knowledge tends to stay you know.

Dan just smirked as he dragged Danny away knowing that another pile of paperwork added to the mountain of it. Danny just whined to Dan about why is he even doing this when Dan is the regent, it was agreed upon by the Ancients that Dan should be a stand-in as the king of the Infinite Realms while Danny finishes his royal studies to become king and his human life. Dan just said that he just has to look pretty while Danny does the actual things.

Danny just pouted at the notion, as he lay his head on the table that impressively holds the tons of paperwork that reaches to the ceiling of the former king’s castle he can’t help but notice his relationship with Dan. Gone with the anger and malice, replaced with fondness and affection between them, brother, a word Dan accidentally muttered when he thought he was asleep.

Dan is painting himself a target, Danny mused, with the GIW doubling their efforts, despite their continuous idiocy the rare times they managed to capture one is devastating. Any none ghost knew that there was a new king but not who, with Dan’s appearance could easily gain all the enemies of the real king aka HIM. Declaring Dan as the king is keeping him safe and unknown to everyone aside from the closest Ancients who knew the truth.

A ploy to keep him safe.

Danny just sighed and wished Bart could help him out of the paperwork.

…

Meanwhile, the JL is in a panic, Time travelers typically avoid telling directly what’s going to happen to avoid further complications the moment they step their feet, so they try to steer the present just a little bit for a better future. So when Bart, the time traveler from a desolate future bursts into the meeting room full of the founding members with two of his teammates trying to catch up to him, about Danny. Flash immediately jumps into action telling Bart to stop what is doing, Bart reiterates that Danny is not his father and Batman immediately barks out a report.

So Bart explains, explains a ruined future, a future full of poison that seeped into the soil and water rendering everything dead, a future where there were only small groups of humans, a future where it was ruled by a tyrant named Dan, a future where his only son Danny Phantom defied the said future so that Bart could go back and change the future.

Constantine explained that they have to be careful, with Dan being the king of the Infinite Realms, they have to tread carefully, or else it may be seen as a declaration of war. If Trigon only conquers different realities then Dan has the power to destroy the universe and realities as they know it. He can make Trigon and Darkseid out of the business.

…

PS: If someone out there wants to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.

PPS: I am now confused about which prompt I should post due to my idiotic self mixing up the date so we’ll go back to the former schedule.

#dc x dp #dc x dp prompt #danny phantom #danny fenton #ghost king danny

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etheralisi · 10 months ago

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I’ve been thinking about in-universe media so. Heh. Why don’t we tumblrify the ending of the rottmnt movie

Update: here’s part 2 and 3+3.5

💫silent_swirl Follow

Nice knowing you guys

🥐ittybittyypastrypuff Follow

Wtf??? Where do you live?

⏱️lordoftimeandspace Follow

You can’t just ask someone where they live

💰rhymeonthedime Follow

op must be from new york. i’ve been trying to text my sister who lives there all day and when she finally gets back to me, it’s to send me a photo of her being chased by some weird??? fleshy???? car? i think the pink stuff was growing inside of it?

🥐ittybittyypastrypuff Follow

The hell is happening in your city?

🔥guess-ill-die Follow

The end of the world

🐛lugbugg Follow

🎙️do-re-mimimi Follow

Where else would you learn that?

14,056 notes

🚀jj-sails Follow

Alien invasion???? This is not how Jupiter Jim said it would go

267 notes

🦙dramallama Follow

So who had alien invasion on the 2020 apocalypse bingo card

🤠see-you-in-space-cowboy Follow

At this point no one is surprised

#give it two months. somehow something will find a way to top this

12,435 notes

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

I lived bitch

🌑faded-moonlight Follow

Context?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

No ✨

43 notes

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Sorry everyone ::> ︵ <:: No more art until my hands are healed up. Doctor’s orders

🧸bear-with-me Follow

Are you okay? 🥺🥺💞

🎨 asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

♡ ♡ Achy. But I realllllly want to drawwwwwww

#I have so many ideas right now #currently trying and failing to draw with feet #but I am determined

226 notes

👾aliens-among-us Follow

Time to storm Area 51 again

#they can’t stop all of us #look I just want to see aliens in person okay #if they can’t invade my city then what’s the point #I know they have to be keeping some of those pink blobs in there

67 notes

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Hello

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

JUNIOR! HELLO

I SEE YOU HAVE DISCOVERED THE INTERNET

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

It’s Sensei’s fault

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

#I?????? #don’t just look at me it was purple too

5 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I smell the scent of betrayal in the air.

#not science posting #blue I’m looking at you

77 notes

✍️writingprompts Follow

You are a time traveller sent back to stop the apocalypse before it ever began. Only problem is: you aren’t sent back far enough.

🟦 outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Relatable

💥zipzapzoom Follow

Umm???

4,522 notes

🕜has-lou-jitsu-been-found-yet Follow

Day 3667 of me posting: no

🪽angelofhell Follow

Wow this blog is dedicated

101 notes

🐝 dizzee-bee Follow

Why do aliens always invade NYC? What’s so special? Why don’t they ever invade Las Vegas huh? What about Boston? Where are my aliens in D.C? So many cities and you’re telling me they chose New York? If aliens really did invade I bet you they wouldn’t even come near it

🐝 dizzee-bee Follow

This post… aged

�� ultimate_cataclysm Follow

Pay up op

1,356 notes

🦊redfoxtrott Follow

there’s something weird going on in this city. remember that time at the stadium? suddenly it’s a free for all on world domination i swear

🪩glitter-jam Follow

I thought the whole stadium thing was a publicity stunt

👋saysayonara Follow

I thought that was a rogue cosplayer

#for real though. What even happened to them?

11,388 notes

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Wow. So tumblr thinks it can gaslight me int thinking aliens exits huh? Well think again

🌎yes-the-earth-is-flat Follow

Stop bringing up my username. You know im right

2,488 notes

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

NO, MY KEYBOARD IS NOT STUCK LIKE THIS. EVERY LETTER I TYPE IS AS IT IS MEANT TO BE SAID. WITH PURPOSE AND VOLUME.

🏒 hockeyordeath Follow

IF MY USERNAME COULD BE IN CAPITALS YOU KNOW IT WOULD BE

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I can help with this

#give me one minute and some flavourless juice

122 notes

💃disco-girl Follow

My apartment was almost flattened by a giant freakin robot a few years back. And now aliens????? I’m moving

#guys I’m just. So. Done with all of this

67 notes

🎙️do-re-mimimi Follow

So did the aliens just up and leave? What’s the story here?

🎩man-with-a-top-hat Follow

There have been various sightings of lights across the sky. I have not been able to find any reliable sources on the cause, but the general consensus is the lights pushed the aliens back where they came from.

🦇batarang Follow

This photo of some person swinging around the city has been making rounds on twitter

🐚seashellsshesells Follow

Pretty lights and vigilantes?

5,993 notes

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

So what are we calling these aliens? They need a cool, alien sounding name ‘cuz all I’ve been seeing around is ‘land squids’, ‘brain goop’ and shoutout to that one discord user who used the words ‘pink gelatinous parsnip’ to describe them.

👊punch-moodi Follow

Have they ever seen a parsnip before?

🤏deadly-nerve-pinch Follow

What about Utroms? They kinda look like the aliens from Jupiter Jim’s Last Trip to the Moon 9

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

Isn’t your fandom super dead?

🤏deadly-nerve-pinch Follow

Say that to our 80+ movies. Your faves could never

🚀jj-sails Follow

Fandom still going strong 💪

🍎almond-apple Follow

Why does everyone keep on calling them aliens? Are we sure they’re not just failed government test subjects? Haven’t there been mutant sightings in NYC before?

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

Sorry, mutants???

👾aliens-among-us Follow

Nah it’s defo aliens

❌cant-think-of-a-user Follow

#so far 3 votes for Utroms and 22 for parsnips #sigh

3,751 notes

🫎duck-duck-moose Follow

Children are terrifying

💤needsomezzzzzzz Follow

Agreed. But I feel like there’s a story here

🫎duck-duck-moose Follow

Was walking back from work, and I was like nearly home right? I turn a corner and there: a sea of cheering girl scouts. Who are they cheering on you ask? Their… cult (?) leader? Tearing one of those aliens apart with her bare hands. And the kids are just laughing and some are even joining in? They must have nerves of steel

💤needsomezzzzzzz Follow

Woah

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

@ HOCKEYORDEATH Hey look at this

372 notes

💀outoftouchoutoftime Follow

Set a profile picture because apparently everyone’s blocking me thinking I’m a bot?

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Sorry CJ

9 notes

asprinkleofrazzmatazz said: Spread the sunshine ☀️ Post this in at least 5 ask boxes to let them know they make you happy

🥊 red_hotsoup Follow

Aww, hey Orange

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Hey, where’s my ask

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Orange?

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

10 notes

asprinkleofrazzmatazz said: Spread the bugs 🪳 Post this in at least 5 ask boxes to let them know they’re bugging you

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Two can play at this game

🎨asprinkleofrazzmatazz Follow

Jk ☀️☀️☀️

29 notes

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

I remember the good old days on tumblr. Back when my brothers didn’t know the name of my account. Back when they didn’t bug me in my inbox

🍞shortbutsweetbread Follow

Then make another one?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

Gasp. And leave behind a username such as this? I’m attached.

🌽 sherlock_corn Follow

What about your sister?

🛸 atomiclass9000 Follow

You’re fine

⚔️ bluejitsu Follow

Favouritism

128 notes

🐱sophinophie Follow

Whoever you heroes are

Thank you.

❤️🧡💜💙

#I don’t know how you did it. Or what you even look like #but one thing is for sure and that’s that you are heroes

189 notes

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zours025 · 28 days ago

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Zombie apocalypse face au I've been thinking of...

Thoughts/details on the AU and an alt color vers of the first drawing (luring you into my evil cave) ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Face as unrelated parties... All normal humans. Caname and fruk (separately) wandering the world after generic zombie outbreak. Theyre some of the last ones left so they rarely meet people and need to depend on the other party heavily. Blahblah its miserable everyone is sad and hurt and tired. Francis had to cut off Arthurs leg to prevent an infection. Arthur has to learn to lean on Francis for a lot of stuff and they learn to get over past grudges and such... 😇 Alfred is bitten at some point and hides it from Matthew. Matthew knows, but he's basically lost any will to live and is ready to die whenever Alfred turns because. Well. "I'm only living for him anyways..." type of sentiment... They ignore it and it's never brought up but it's like. I know you know that I know that- Anyways. So those two are trying their hardest to live out their last days in relative happiness. Doing fun stuff. Appreciating the simple things, landscapes, each other's company, etc... That is until they bump into Francis and Arthur in a totally horrible state. And it's like "Well... We can't just let them die can we? We have nothing to lose anyways." So they watch over the two and care for them and once they're all in okay health they decide to stick together and move on. But Arthur and Francis are clearly more determined to live than Mattie and Alfred and they're good fighters. So they wanna keep em around, all while hiding that Alfred is slowly dying and is eventually gonna kill them all. Milking Francis and Arthur's good will... Eventually new relationships form between the four and inevitably weird "betrayal!" and jealousy type feelings show up... Francis is tired of just sleeping with Arthur and when he gets mad he flirts with either of the twins... And the like... Well I haven't thought the whole thing through but these are the important emotional bases to the idea I guess...

I wrote a scenario for many different possibilities of first-to-dies (because i find them all interesting and bcuz twitter oomf asked and i have no restraint. lole)

Alfred dies first: Most obvious scenario (like hes already a bit zombified and clearly hes getting physically weaker) Im imagining a terrible scenario no matter what. Matthew probably finds him first all hunched over and stuff womdering whats wrong before realising that it's finally the end of the line. Francis/Arthur aren't far behind and they blow "Alfreds" head off without hesitation. Obviously causes a rift between the two and Matthew, who broke their trust by hiding this from them. Matthew is inconsolable for a few days, he thought he had more time. Despite the lie I think Francis and Arthur would end up feeling sympathy. They try to keep Matthew up on his feet but frankly I think this would end with him blowing his brains out eventually anyways... 😊

Alternatively Mattie has been mentally preparing himself for a very long time and he immediately kills "Alfred" and then himself in quick succession. Francis and Arthur are haunted by the memory of the two for the rest of their trip.

Arthur dies first: Similarly, I think its easy to imagine this. He's missing a leg and mostly needs to be near someone else to survive zombie attacks/ambushes. Would probably accidentally get separated from the group and get overrun... Might use himself as a distraction to allow the other three to get away in a particularly dire situation... In a way he thinks hes just dead weight anyways and he wants to see the other three live knowing that he doesn't have much left to offer them (Francis would disagree). Francis is obviously very upset and he loses sleep over the memory of Arthur, his last "real" link to his normal life before all of this. But I think Francis is stable enough to prioritise the twins he took under his wing. He knows they need someone to keep them together, so he toughs it out. Everything is fine till Alfred turns some many months later. By then, Francis developed a strong attachment to the two and doesn't have any regrets. Would probably struggle against Alfreds strength to allow Matthew to escape or something along those lines...

Francis dies first: I can also see him just getting killed by sheer numbers. I think he grew very fond of the twins pretty fast + had to be Arthurs protection for a long time and so he developed this feeling of "I need to keep them all safe at all costs". I don't think itd be as much of a letting go type thing as Arthur. It's more calculated and would only happen in a worst-case scenario. I think Arthur would be pretty irritable for the next few weeks, a lot of things remind him of Francis. It bothers him since he wants to just forget and move on, but he finds that his feelings are more difficult to control than he initially thought. Yells a lot at Matthew and Alfred and gets into petty fights. Its not pretty, but they have their moments... In the end, it's not like he wants to make them suffer. They're all he has left now. Hes trying his best. Has a lot of days where he just wishes he had been the one to die instead.

Matthew dies first: Honestly I'm imagining a non-zombie related death, like an accident with one of the guns or some unrelated illness or like. Falling onto a branch? Falling from high up in general? Setting off a trap? Lol idk. Something that allows Alfred to hold Matthew during his final moments or at least look into his eyes. I think hes also the most liable to flip out on everyone and just kill the four of them all together idk ❤ Crazy girl ❤ It shocks Alfred immensely. He expected to be the first one to die and he's really upset about the whole thing. Outwardly, he cracks jokes and tries to convince the other two that he's fine but he's very much not. Doesn't really know what tk do with himself. Just goes through the motions every day. Francis and Arthur notice the slight change in behaviour but don't really say anything and pretend everything is fine. Playing at being a normal family. Arthur and Francis try spending lots of time with Alfred but nothing really helps. Eventually Alfred turns without ever telling them he was infected and they all die the end. Alternatively he kills the other two and then himself on like a random Tuesday. ❤

Bonus: Everyone except Alfred dies lol. Alone in the desolate empty landscape. Welp!!! What now!!!

If you saw my first post of this text part no you didn't im editing this and putting it here with the drawing its more organised ❤ okay ❤

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nhaaauyen · 3 months ago

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⋆ ˚｡ ⋆୨ The Ghost of You ୧⋆ ˚｡ ⋆

"This thou perceiv'st, which makes thy love more strong // To love that well which thou must leave ere long." -William Shakespeare (Sonnet 73)

PART V: ‘CAUSE I CAN’T TAKE THIS PAIN FOREVER

zombie apocalypse sevika x reader au!: sevika was the super soldier; a killing machine driven solely by survival. you were nomadic, constantly searching for something in whatever was left of the world—till you met her.

series masterpost: part I // part II // part III // part IV

wc: 8.3k cw: smut (MINORS DNI!!!) author's note: thank you to everyone who read/comments + i see your tags on the reposts you guys make me gay and sappy with all your support tysm 💗 (also im so sorry if the smut is so mid I’m not a smut writer and it’s my second time writing smut ever smhhh)

Fifteen died. Including Grayson.

Daylight is spent in a daze of cleaning up, tending to the wounded, and trying to process the magnitude of what's happened. People are trying to piece together what little they can salvage, but the damage is more than just physical.

As night falls, the community gathers for a final farewell. The loss is too great, too much to be exposed under the harsh light of day. The night offers a semblance of protection, a cloak under which everyone can mourn and where grief can be private.

Candles flicker in the hands of those gathered and the atmosphere is thick with sorrow. Families huddle together, some on their knees beside makeshift crosses, others standing in silent clusters. The candles illuminate their tears, turning them into tiny rivers of gold that glisten in the darkness.

You stand by Grayson’s cross, surrounded by those who knew and loved her. Vander, his broad shoulders tense and Ekko clutches his candle so tightly that the wax has begun to drip onto his fingers. Powder leans into Vi, who wraps a protective arm around her sister. Caitlyn stands close, her face a mask of composed grief, but her eyes are red-rimmed and distant. Ren holds onto your hand tightly, her small fingers interlaced with yours.

Your gaze keeps drifting to the shadows, searching for one face in particular.

Then, as if conjured by your thoughts, you spot her. She’s standing under a tree, half-hidden in the shadows. The candlelight doesn’t reach her, leaving her face partially obscured, but you can tell it’s her. She's motionless, almost statuesque, her expression unreadable.

There’s something in the way she’s watching the scene before her that sends a shiver down your spine. It’s almost as if she’s already a ghost herself, a spirit haunting the edge of the gathering. There’s an emptiness to her, as if the life has been drained out of her and what remains is only a shell, a figure standing over a world she no longer belongs to.

A heaviness resides in your chest, a deep, aching sadness that mirrors the grief of those around you. Grayson’s loss is a wound that cuts deep. She was the heart of this community, the one who held everyone together. And now she’s gone, leaving behind a legacy that feels too big, too important to carry on without her.

The vigil continues, but you feel a shift in the air, a quiet, unspoken understanding that it’s time to go, that there’s nothing more to be done here tonight. Slowly, people begin to leave, one by one, their footsteps soft on the grass. You hesitate, your gaze lingering on Sevika one last time. She hasn’t moved, hasn’t acknowledged your presence or anyone else’s.

As your family and Ren head to a neighbor’s house, seeking comfort in numbers, you seek solace in solitude instead.

The silence is almost deafening in your room. You close the door behind you, leaning against it for a moment as you let out a shaky breath.

There’s a soft knock at the door, and for a moment, you think you might be imagining it. But then it comes again, and you push yourself away from the door, your heart pounding in your chest as you reach for the handle.

When you open the door, Sevika is standing there, but she’s not the woman you remember. There’s a hollow look in her eyes, a deep exhaustion etched into every line of her face. She’s hunched over slightly as if the weight of everything has finally broken through her defenses.

For a moment, you just stare at each other, neither of you knowing what to say.

"What's going on?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without a word, she steps into the room, her movements slow and almost hesitant.

"Sevika..." you start, but the words die in your throat as she looks at you. Her eyes, usually so guarded, are now pools of raw emotion.

"I could have lost you yesterday," she says, her voice cracking. "I almost did."

You step back and fall onto the edge of your bed, overwhelmed by the intensity of her gaze, the weight of her words.

Sevika falls to her knees before you, burying her face in your lap. Her body shakes, hands clutching desperately at your clothes. The sight of her kneeling before you sends a shockwave through your system. This is Sevika, the woman who’s always stood tall, who’s never shown weakness.

“Please…” The word escapes her lips in a raw, broken whisper, her voice laced with a desperation you’ve never heard from her before. “Please… I can’t take this pain forever.”

Your hands hover uncertainly over her. She’s seeking you, but you find yourself instinctively pushing back, your fingers gripping her shoulders to keep some distance between you. The urge to comfort her wars with the part of you that’s terrified—terrified that if you let her in again, she’ll leave, and you’ll be left with nothing but this overwhelming pain.

Why now? your eyes ask, the ache in your chest tightening. Why now, when I don’t even know if I can trust you not to leave again?

Sevika looks up, her eyes red-rimmed and filled with vulnerability. She reaches for you, but you flinch away, your body betraying your inner turmoil. I won’t, her eyes seem to respond. her hands clinging to you as if you’re the only thing keeping her from falling apart completely.

The push and pull become physical - Sevika's hands grasping at your clothes, trying to draw you in, while you resist, your grip on her arms keeping her at bay. You see the realization dawn in Sevika's eyes as she understands your hesitation. She doesn't speak, doesn't try to persuade you with words. Instead, she simply holds your gaze, her hands loosening their grip but not letting go entirely.

The tension between you is palpable, a living thing that fills the space between your bodies. You can feel it gnawing at you - the fear that she’ll pull away, that this moment will shatter like glass.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, Sevika's resistance fades. She doesn't try to pull you closer anymore, but she doesn't move away either. She simply kneels there, her head bowed, waiting.

It's this surrender that finally breaks through your defenses. Your hands, which were pushing her away, now tremble as they cup her face. You tilt her chin up, meeting her gaze fully for the first time.

What you see there takes your breath away - it’s a steadfast devotion that silences your doubts. At that moment, you understand that she's not going anywhere.

Your hands finally move, your fingers threading through her hair and letting it fall from its ponytail. The moment you touch her, she lets out a shuddering breath, her body sagging against you as if the weight she’s been carrying has finally become too much.

Sevika sees the hesitation in your gaze, the lingering fear, and something shifts inside her. She surges up, pulling you into a desperate kiss—a plea for you to trust her. The kiss is messy, frantic, filled with the need to feel, to connect, to hold onto something real amidst all this.

You respond immediately, your hands drawing her near—even though parts of you want to stop and shield yourself from the possibility of losing her again, you can’t bring yourself to let go.

Her lips are pressing against yours with a need that makes your heart ache, and you both finally give in to the emotions you’ve been holding back for so long. It’s not like the kiss you’ve shared before—this is different. It’s a commitment to each other that you’ve both been too scared to acknowledge until now.

You both fall back onto the bed, your bodies tangling together as you lose yourselves in each other.

Your hands are never leaving her, your lips never straying too far from hers. Her bionic hand presses into your back gently, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between you and you can feel the steady beat of her heart against your chest.

She suddenly pulls you onto her lap. One hand slides under your shirt, causing a shiver to run down your spine, while the other lingers on the small of your back. With a swift movement, she removes your shirt, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable under the moonlight cascading through the window.

A blush creeps up your cheeks at the sudden exposure.

"You're beautiful." The moonlight dances in her eyes and her voice is filled with sincerity and adoration.

Your breath hitches as she leans in and presses a kiss onto your chest, her lips travel lower and lower until she forces a nipple out of your bra. Your gasp quickly turns into a moan as her lips wrap around it and her tongue is swirling, her teeth teasing and biting at the sensitive bud.

Your hands find their way into her hair and shoulders, grasping at something to stabilize a desire that feels like it could push you over the edge. As her lips dance across your neck, her tongue tracing the curve of your jaw, you feel your hips surge forward, seeking the friction that will bring you relief. Your hands, still fisted in her clothes, tug her closer, the fabric straining against the pressure. Sevika's fingers, still tangled in your hair, pull your head back further, exposing your throat to her hungry mouth. Her breath is hot against your skin, sending shivers coursing through your veins. You grind into her fingers, a low, desperate moan builds in your throat, and you hear yourself repeating her name like a mantra.

"Sevika, Sevika, Sevika please."

Your legs tremble as you press into her, the thin fabric of your panties rubbing against her fingers, which are still wrapped around you. The pressure builds, a crescendo of need threatening to consume you whole.

She teases you, her fingers occasionally dipping inside you before pulling back out to rub against your sensitive nub. Each time you’re on the brink of release, she stops and kisses you deeply, driving you crazy with need.

But finally, when you can’t take it any longer, she plunges two fingers inside you. Your fingers dig deep into her shoulder as she sets a steady pace with her fingers, hitting just the right spot inside you that has you writhing in ecstasy.

You’re panting at her touch, your hips bucking into her hand as she moves her fingers in and out of you, her thumb rubbing circles over your clit. Each touch sends jolts of pleasure through your body, making you crave more and more. She whispers sweet words in your ear along with wicked promises that make you wetter than you could imagine.

You grasp the edge of Sevika's shawl, the delicate fabric slipping through your fingers as you slowly pull it away, exposing her bionic arm to you. The shimmering metal catches the dim light of the room, contrasting beautifully with your warm hands. You can’t help but admire the way it seems to glow, each curve and joint blending seamlessly into her skin.

Sevika’s breath hitches at the sight of her exposed arm, and a flicker of vulnerability passes over her face. The vulnerability in her eyes makes you want to show her how incredible she is, and how every part of her makes you feel alive.

You lean closer, your lips brushing softly against her bionic arm, feeling the coolness against your mouth as you press gentle kisses along the sleek surface. It’s smooth, almost soothing, and you feel her relax into your touch. Your breath quickens, merging anticipation and a hunger to worship every part of her.

She changes your positions, laying you down gently on your bed till your head sinks into a plush pillow. You can feel the heat radiating off of her body as she begins to kiss down your body. Her lips leave a trail of fire as they make their way down your stomach until they reach the waistband of your panties. She easily removes them and throws them aside. She starts by lightly kissing and licking your inner thighs, slowly making her way towards your center. You can already feel the heat pooling between your legs as she gets closer and closer to where you want her most. Her gaze locks onto yours as her head hovers over your soaked folds.

“Just focus on me,” her voice comes out hoarse and commanding.

Sevika buries her face between your legs and you gasp at the sudden sensation, gripping the sheets tightly. She flicks and sucks on your clit while slipping a finger inside of you, matching the rhythm of her tongue. There’s a sense of urgency in the way she looks at you – a primal need that mirrors yours perfectly.

Her fingers dig into your thighs, holding you down firmly. You feel yourself getting close, but before you can reach your peak, she stops abruptly.

You whimper in frustration, but it’s quickly replaced with adoration as she climbs up to kiss you, tasting yourself on her lips.

“You got such a pretty body,” She bites teasingly at your ear. “Prettier when it’s a mess for me.”

A course of desire jolts through you at hearing her low and raspy voice whisper those words. Your fingers trace the curve of her shoulder, moving down her arm until you reach her hand. You intertwine your fingers with hers, feeling the coolness of her bionic hand. Sevika blows a hot breath over your glistening mound and you instinctively close your legs around her head.

The room immediately fills with the sound of heavy breathing and the soft, wet noises of skin against skin. Her finger curls inside you, causing your back to arch off the bed in pleasure.

With each thrust and lap of her tongue, she pushes you closer to the edge. You can feel the tension coiling within you—she intensifies her rhythm, sucking and teasing in perfect harmony with your body's responses. The sensations build higher and higher until they finally explode within you.

You release with a loud cry, shuddering in ecstasy as the waves of pleasure wash over you, leaving you breathless and utterly consumed in bliss.

When you finally break apart, it’s only to catch your breath. Your bodies are still tangled together, a sticky, wet mess, but neither of you cares. Sevika holds you tightly, her face buried in the crook of your neck.

The room is bathed in soft, silvery moonlight filtering in through the window. The sounds of your soft breathing fill the space, mingling with the faint rustle of the sheets. Everything feels tender, and fragile, like you’re both holding on to something delicate and precious, something that could shatter with the slightest misstep.

Your fingers trace the scar on Sevika’s cheek, the roughened skin contrasting the softness of her lips. She looks at you, her eyes searching yours as if she’s trying to read the thoughts that you’re too scared to say aloud.

“I don’t want to lose you,” you murmur, your voice trembling with emotion.

“You won’t,” she whispers back, her lips brushing against yours in the softest of kisses.

“Promise me..” Your voice falters, struggling to grasp the idea of not being able to feel her, see her, or touch her like this again. “I don’t know how to exist without you.”

“I’d spend the rest of my days searching,” Sevika replies quietly, her gaze unwavering. “Even just for the chance of seeing you again.”

She cups your face with one hand, her thumb brushing gently over your cheek. “I’ll always find my way back to you.”

You rest your head on her chest, listening to the steady rhythm of her heart, the sound soothing in a way you hadn’t realized you needed. Your fingers trace gentle patterns on her skin and a quiet peace settles over you, a sense of calm that you haven’t felt in what seems like forever.

As you lie there, holding each other in the darkness, the world outside seems to fade into insignificance. You close your eyes, letting yourself finally rest, knowing that she’s here with you, that you’re both in this together. It’s a fragile peace, but it’s yours, and in this moment, it’s more than enough.

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

One Year Later…

The kitchen glows in the warm light, sunlight streaming through the window and illuminating the marble countertops. The sweet aroma of cinnamon and vanilla fills the air as you stir a pot of rice pudding on the stove.

Ren bursts into the kitchen, twirling in her new outfit - a pretty blue dress with matching ribbons in her hair. "Look!" she exclaims, eyes shining with excitement.

You smile warmly. "You look beautiful, honey. Are you ready for dinner at Vander's?"

Ren nods enthusiastically. "Can I go over early? Please?"

"Of course," you reply, giving her a quick hug. "I'll see you there in a bit."

You watch her go, a fond smile lingering on your lips. Ren has become such a central part of your life, switching between living with you and Sevika, and some nights, staying over at Vander’s with the rest of your family. Dinners at Vander’s have also become a tradition, starting as a semblance of normality for the kids until you realize that sometimes everyone just needed a family meal too.

You turn back to your work, carefully measuring out the sugar to add to the pudding. You’re so focused on getting everything just right that you don’t notice when Sevika slips into the kitchen. She moves quietly, her steps almost soundless as she approaches the stove. It’s only when you glance up and see her broad back that you realize she’s there, her figure blocking the light from the window.

"Hey, you're home," you start to say, but then you spot the spoon in her mouth. "Sev!" you exclaim. "I'm not done with that!"

Sevika turns, the spoon still between her lips. "Tastes good," she mumbles around it, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“It’s supposed to taste good when it’s finished,” you retort, gently pushing her away from the stove.

Suddenly, you feel Sevika's arms encircle your waist, her body warm against your back. She nuzzles into your neck, placing a soft kiss just below your ear. "Mmm," she hums, "doesn’t taste as good as you, though."

“Don’t think you can sweet-talk me into letting you try more,” you say, trying to stay focused despite the distraction she’s providing.

She chuckles again, her deep voice rumbling against your back. “Can’t blame a girl for trying.”

You smile, the familiar banter easing you into a comfortable lull. The gentle pressure of her arms around you, the way she’s so casually affectionate now, fills you with warmth.

"Hey, did you bring home any fruit for the pudding?" you ask, turning in Sevika's arms.

You feel her tense slightly, her smile faltering. "We’re having a bit of a dry season," she says, her tone careful.

The words hang heavy in the air. You know the reality - supplies have been tight lately, with produce struggling to grow and the scavenging teams venturing further each time.

Before you can dwell on it further, Sevika leans in to kiss you, clearly trying to change the subject. But as she does, you catch a whiff of something less than pleasant, and you instinctively pull back, wrinkling your nose.

"Babe, you fucking stink," you blurt out.

Sevika's eyes goes wide in shock, then narrows playfully. "Oh, really?" she growls, trying to pull you closer.

You dance out of her grasp.“Go start a bath,” you say between giggles. “I’ll join you in a bit, okay?”

She lets out a noise of disapproval but obeys regardless. “I wasn’t that bad,” she mutters as she turns toward the bathroom.

“Yes, you were,” you call after her, still grinning as you watch her go. “Go on, I’ll be there soon.”

With Sevika finally convinced, you head to your bedroom to grab some towels.

The bedroom has changed over the past year, becoming more of a shared space than it ever was before. Sevika's red shawl drapes over the back of a chair, while your jewelry glitters on the dresser. The wall above the bed is adorned with colorful drawings - Ren's artwork, depicting your entire makeshift family, the sight of it never failing to warm your heart.

It had started casually enough - a few items of clothing left behind after hurried encounters, a toothbrush appearing in the bathroom. You and Sevika were sneaking around, stealing moments together whenever you could.

When you finally told your family about your relationship, they celebrated, of course. It wasn’t a surprise to them—they had seen the way you and Sevika gravitated toward each other, the looks you reserved solely for one another. You found yourself practically living at Sevika's, though neither of you had officially acknowledged the change.

Then came the day you noticed the difference in her dresser. The already sparse drawers had been reorganized, creating a dedicated space just for you. Your scattered belongings were neatly arranged, claiming their place in Sevika's life.

You remember standing there, staring at that drawer, your heart swelling with emotion. It was such a small gesture, but it spoke volumes. Sevika, always more comfortable with actions than words, had found her way of saying "stay".

A small smile forms on your lips at the memory as you close the closet. Gathering the towels, you head towards the sound of running water.

You settle onto the stool beside the bathtub, watching Sevika relax in the warm, soapy water. Her broad shoulders peek out from the bubbles, her head tilted back slightly as she rests, eyes half-closed in contentment. The sight of her—this tough, unbreakable woman— soaking in the bath like she has nowhere else to be, makes you giggle.

"You look adorable."

Sevika cracks one eye open, giving you a playful glare that’s nowhere near as intimidating as she probably hopes it’ll be. "I’m not adorable," she grumbles.

You reach for a washcloth, gently running it over her back. Your fingers work out the knots in her muscles, and you feel her relax under your touch. The bathroom is quiet except for the soft lapping of water and Sevika's contented sighs.

"Don't get me wet, Sev," you warn as she shifts in the tub.

“I thought I always did,” she shoots back with a sly grin, and before you can react, she splashes a handful of water at you.

The warm water hits you square in the chest, soaking your shirt. You let out a small gasp, and Sevika just laughs, clearly pleased with herself.

“Now I’ve got no choice but to join you, huh?” you say, feigning annoyance as you peel off your damp clothes.

Sevika's arms wrap around you as you settle between her legs, your back pressed against her chest. "No funny business," you remind her. "We've got dinner later."

She groans, burying her face in your neck. "Do we have to do that?"

You intertwine your fingers with hers, squeezing gently. "Yes, we all need it. Even you, Miss Grumpy."

Sevika huffs, but doesn't argue further. It's rare to see her act so petulant, and you can't help but find it endearing. You lean back further into her embrace, savoring the warmth of her skin against yours.

A chuckle escapes you as a memory surfaces.

"What's so funny?" Sevika murmurs against your ear.

"I'm thinking about us," you reply, still grinning. "Remember the first time you came to family dinner?"

Sevika groans again, this time in embarrassment. That first dinner had been spectacularly awkward. Sevika, sitting at Vander’s table, towering over everyone, her presence so imposing that no one knew how to break the ice. You could feel the discomfort radiating from the others as they tried and failed to strike up conversation. Sevika, never much of a talker herself, hadn’t made it any easier.

"I thought Caitlyn was going to have an aneurysm trying to make conversation," you laugh.

"She kept asking about the weather," Sevika recalls. "As if we don't all live in the same damn place."

“But my family loves you now.”

Sevika raises an eyebrow. “They’re still nervous around me though.”

“True,” you admit, chuckling. “But now they know you’re not going to kill them if they say the wrong thing. Well, most of them know that, anyway.”

”I like to keep them on their toes.” Sevika smirks, her lips brushing against your neck. “Can’t let them forget who I am.”

You turn in her arms, facing her now. "I don’t think they would be as afraid if they saw you in a bubble bath right now."

She narrows her eyes at you. "I’m still scary."

"Is that so?" you challenge, your faces inches apart.

Instead of answering, Sevika closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss. You sigh into it, brushing a damp strand of hair behind her ear.

You're nestled against Sevika, the warm water lulling you into a peaceful state when a sharp knock shatters the moment.

"Who the hell..." She's about to call out, likely with some choice words, when a familiar voice filters through the door.

"Sevika? You in there?"

It's Ran. Sevika's expression immediately hardens.

She gives you an apologetic look as she carefully extracts herself from the tub, wrapping a towel around her body. You remain in the bath, straining to hear the muffled conversation. Snippets reach your ears—"Silco... needs to see you... scouts..."

By the time you've dried off and dressed, Sevika is already changed, her face grim. She's heading for the door, and you follow.

Out on the streets, the usual bustle of Zaun seems subdued. Sevika turns to you, her eyes softening slightly.

"It's just a quick meeting," she assures you, though her tone lacks conviction. "I'll be back, okay?"

You look at her, worry evident in your gaze. She must see it because she adds, "Family dinner is still on. I promise."

You watch Sevika disappear down the street, her words echoing in your mind. Despite her assurances, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles in your chest. Instead of heading home, your feet carry you to a familiar path.

The old target practice area comes into view, untouched since Grayson's passing. The targets are weathered now, the paint faded and peeling. You moved the practice area after... after everything, but this place still holds a piece of history you can’t forget.

You settle onto the worn bench, you could almost hear Grayson's patient voice, the sound of gunfire. Now it's quiet, a ghost of what it used to be.

Lost in thought, you barely notice the approaching footsteps until a shadow falls across you.

"Quite the view from up here, isn't it?"

A man’s voice cuts through your reverie. You look up to see him, his usual sly smile in place.

"Mind if I join you?" He doesn't wait for an answer before settling onto the bench beside you.

“What do you want, Finn?” you ask, your guard instantly up.

“Just wanted a place to admire Zaun,” he replies. "It’s getting a bit crowded down there.”

You remain silent, wary of engaging. Instead, you’re both gazing out over Zaun—The community sprawls below, a patchwork of light and shadow.

"You know," Finn begins, his voice casual, "I used to come up here sometimes, watch Grayson train the new recruits. She had a way about her, didn't she? A real vision for what Zaun could be."

You nod, unsure where he's going with this.

Finn continues, his tone thoughtful. "Things have changed a lot since then. More people, less space. Resources getting tighter." He glances at you sideways. "Makes you wonder what Grayson would think of it all."

There's something in his voice that puts you on edge, a subtle challenge. You choose your words carefully. "Grayson always believed in Zaun's potential."

"Ah, but potential for what?" Finn leans in conspiratorially. "It looks like things are starting to fray at the edges. People are getting restless, hungry. And when that happens… well, who knows what might come next?"

You feel a surge of anger, but you keep it in check, refusing to let him get under your skin. “Zaun’s strong,” you say firmly. “So if you’re trying to stir up trouble, you can take it somewhere else.”

Finn holds up his hands in a placating gesture. "Of course, of course. I'm just thinking about the future, you know? But hey, I'm sure Silco's got it all figured out."

Finn stands, brushing off his pants. "Give my regards to Sevika," he says lightly.

"Tell her... we're all counting on her to keep us safe."

⁺˚⋆｡°✩

You and Sevika walk side by side through the bustling streets of Zaun, the rice pudding cradled carefully in Sevika’s arms. As you approach the door, you can already hear the sounds of laughter and chatter from inside. Before you can even step over the threshold, a blur of blue barrels into view.

Just as Powder rounds the corner, she nearly collides with you, her eyes wide as she skids to a halt. “Oops, sorry!” she exclaims, a sheepish grin spreading across her face as she steadies herself. “Sorry, double for last time,” she adds with a knowing look.

It had been a few weeks ago, when Sevika was trying to grow out her hair, a fact she was oddly self-conscious about. You guys were standing in the courtyard, watching as Powder excitedly showed off her new contraption, a slime trap shooter she cobbled together from spare parts.

The demonstration started off well enough, but suddenly a glob of viscous slime shot out wildly, landing with a wet splat right in Sevika's hair.

Powder's enthusiasm instantly turned into fear as she realized what she's done.The look on Sevika’s face had been priceless—a mix of surprise and horror as she reached up to touch the mess clinging to her hair.

“I’m gonna kill that kid,” Sevika grumbled, her voice low and menacing. “My hair looks like shit.”

You’d barely managed to suppress your laughter when it first happened, but now in Vander’s bathroom you couldn’t hide your amusement.

“So, that’s a no on having kids, then?” you joked as you reached for a pair of scissors to help trim the slime-covered strands.

Sevika had turned to look at you, her expression one of shock and something else—something deeper that neither of you had wanted to confront. It was just a small joke, but it carried the weight of a conversation you hadn’t yet had, and might never have. Sometimes, you couldn’t avoid the fact that this was it for you two.

But you quickly brushed it aside, focusing on the task at hand. As you carefully trimmed the damaged hair, you leaned in close, whispering in Sevika’s ear, “You’re sexy already. No amount of slime will change that.”

That had earned you a reluctant smile from her in that moment.

"No harm done.” You tell Powder, inconspicuously kicking Sevika’s feet to agree.

“Yeah.” She grunts, and you hold in a snicker at the obvious grudge she held.

As you enter the kitchen, you're greeted by the sight of Vander attempting to wrangle a massive pot of stew.

“There you two are,” Vander says, looking up from his cooking. “Thought you might’ve gotten lost on the way here.”

“Not a chance,” Sevika replies, setting the rice pudding down on the counter with a grin. “This one would never forgive me if I missed dinner.”

“Damn right,” you reply. “You need any help, Vander?”

“Nah, we’re about done here,” Vander says, wiping his hands on a towel. “Just need to get everything into the living room. You know how these animals are when they’re hungry.”

You laugh, grabbing a tray of bread rolls while Sevika grabs a platter of roasted vegetables. She follows you out into the living room, where the rest of the group is already making themselves comfortable. Ekko is lounging on the floor, watching Powder and Ren as they buzz around him. Caitlyn and Vi are chatting quietly in one corner, Vi’s arm casually draped over the back of Caitlyn’s chair.

“Hey you two,” you greet, setting the tray down on a table near the center of the room. “Food’s here.”

Vi reaches for a roll, and Caitlyn swats her hand. "Wait for everyone, you brute," she says affectionately.

"Come on, cupcake, I'm starving!" Vi whines dramatically.

Soon, everyone settles in various spots around the room, grabbing plates and piling on food. Vander passes around mugs of ale, the rich, amber liquid sloshing slightly as he hands it to the adults.

Sevika sits down beside you on the floor, her back against the couch, and you hand her a plate, watching as she loads it up with a bit of everything. Powder's regaling everyone with a tale of her latest explosive experiment, complete with dramatic reenactments.

"You guys won't believe what I made today!" She exclaims, barely touching her food as she launches into her story. "So I took some wires from that old TV we found, and I connected them to a car battery. Then I rigged up this pressure plate..."

"And then - BOOM!" she exclaims, throwing her arms wide and nearly knocking over Ekko's plate.

"Watch it, Pow," Ekko grumbles, but there's no real annoyance in his voice.

The two of you eat in comfortable silence for a while, the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the room around you. As the meal winds down, Powder's eyes light up with a new idea. She bounds over to you and Sevika.

"Hey, hey! You guys wanna play Nerf guns with us?" she asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

Sevika raises an eyebrow.

"I modified them. They shoot further now, and I added a cool light-up feature, and-"

"Modified?" Sevika interrupts, looking slightly alarmed, she was already thinking about the last mishap with Powder’s “modifications”.

You laugh at the expression on Sevika's face, she couldn’t hide the suspicion and concern written all over it. "Come on, Sev," you nudge. "Could be fun."

Powder's practically bouncing now. "Please? Pretty please? I promise there’s no slime this time!"

Sevika sighs. "Fine." she concedes.

"Yes!" Powder cheers. "You won't regret it!"

Powder herds you, Sevika, Ekko, and Ren onto the couch, squishing you all together as she stands before you, eyes gleaming with excitement.

“Alright, listen up!” Powder announces, pulling out a set of nerf guns. The colorful plastic weapons are covered in stickers and doodles, clearly customized to her liking. She hands one to each of you.

Sevika takes hers with a skeptical look, turning it over in her hands. “You can’t shoot shit with this,” she mutters, the derision clear in her voice.

“Oh, yeah?” Powder smirks, clearly prepared for this. She whirls around, aims at a water bottle perched on the windowsill, and fires. The nerf dart flies across the room and smacks the bottle dead center, sending it tumbling to the floor with a satisfying thud.

Sevika raises an eyebrow, impressed despite herself.

“Now that we’ve established these aren’t toys for babies,” Powder continues, pacing in front of the couch. “here’s the game: upstairs, there’s a crown stashed somewhere by Vi. The goal is to retrieve the crown and bring it to Vander downstairs. Upstairs is a no-shoot zone, but downstairs, if you’re hit with a dart, you’re out.”

She claps her hands together, clearly relishing her role as the game master. "Now, we need to split into teams," Powder continues. "Sevika and Ekko, you're one team. And-"

You all glance at Ren, the youngest of the group at just eight years old. There's a moment of awkward silence as everyone tries to figure out how to handle this diplomatically.

"You should take her," you say sweetly.

Sevika’s eyes narrow playfully, already sensing where this is going. “The kid likes you more." Despite being dubious of the game at first, you could tell Sevika’s competitiveness was taking over.

“I thought this was just a kids’ game?” you tease, leaning in slightly with a raised eyebrow.

Sevika gives you a sheepish look, clearly caught between her competitive streak and her soft spot for Ren.

Feeling a bit guilty, you suggest, "Why don't we let Ren pick?"

Ren beams up at both of you, clearly delighted to have the choice. "I wanna be on your team!" she exclaims, pointing at you and Powder.

“You’re gonna be our secret weapon,” you whisper, wrapping an arm around Ren’s shoulders.

“Alright then,” Ekko chimes in, finally managing to free himself from the couch. “Let’s do this.”

Everyone grabs their nerf guns and heads outside. You can't help but chuckle at the sight of Sevika, usually so intimidating, clutching a bright orange plastic gun with a determined look on her face.

"Alright, teams start at opposite ends of the house," Powder instructs. "When I give the signal, the hunt begins!"

You crouch behind a bush with Powder and Ren, all of you trying (and failing) to look serious with your toy weapons.

"Ready?" Powder calls out. "Set... GO!"

And with that, you all come barreling into the house. Powder darts ahead, her movements quick and erratic. You follow, trying to keep an eye on Ren while scanning for potential ambush spots.

As you round a corner, you come face to face with Sevika. For a moment, you both freeze, nerf guns pointed at each other.

"Sorry, babe," you say, not sorry at all as you pull the trigger.

But Sevika's reflexes are faster. She ducks, the foam dart whizzing over her head, and returns fire. You barely dodge, and you take the moment to sneak onto the stairs.

Upstairs, you quickly begin your search, darting in and out of rooms, peeking under beds and behind curtains for any sign of the hidden crown. Ren’s small size gives her an advantage as she slips into tight spots that you and Powder can’t quite reach.

But despite your efforts, it was nowhere to be found. "How?" you mutter, bewildered.

Powder's eyes narrow, scanning the area. "Ekko," she hisses, pointing to an open window. "He must've climbed up from outside!"

Quickly, you formulate a plan. Ren is dispatched to keep watch with Vander, ensuring Ekko can't make a sneaky victory while you and Powder hunt down Sevika and Ekko.

With that, you guys head back downstairs, moving quietly as you scan the house for any signs of the other team. As you move through the house, you and Powder eventually decide to split up, hoping to cover more ground.

It doesn’t take long before you spot Sevika, her broad frame moving stealthily through the hallway. She hasn’t seen you yet, and you quickly close the distance, pressing yourself against the wall to remain hidden. When she finally turns the corner, you’re right there, catching her off guard.

“Drop the gun,” you command, your voice low and teasing as you pin her against the wall, your body pressing into hers. Sevika’s eyes widen in surprise, her hands instinctively going up in mock surrender, though there’s a glint of amusement in her gaze.

“And what if I don’t?” she murmurs, her lips quirking into a playful smile.

“Then I’ll have to make you,” you reply, your tone equally flirtatious as you lean in closer, the game momentarily forgotten.

"Ewww, get a room!" Ekko's voice breaks the spell. You spin around to find Ekko aiming at you, the crown tucked under his arm.

But before you can react, Powder emerges from a doorway behind Ekko, her nerf gun raised and ready. Without missing a beat, she fires a dart that hits Ekko square in the back. “Gotcha!” she shouts triumphantly.

Ekko’s eyes widen in shock as he instinctively drops the crown, clutching his back where the dart hit. “Hey, what the fuck, Powder?!” he exclaims, his tone incredulous.

“Language, Ekko!” Vander’s voice booms from the kitchen, echoing through the house.

Taking advantage of the distraction, Sevika quickly knocks the nerf gun out of your hand. But before she can fully capitalize on her victory, you kick the crown down the hallway, sending it skittering toward the kitchen.

“Move kid!” Sevika barks as she grabs Ekko by the arm, dragging him behind a couch. Ekko, still nursing his mock wound, yells out dramatically, “Man down! Man down!”

There's a moment of tense silence, then Ekko's voice pipes up again. "I'm getting healed by a health kit!"

“What the hell?” Powder says with a look of utter disbelief. “There’s no health kit in this game!”

"Yeah, 'cause I took it!" Ekko retorts, popping up from behind the couch and unleashing a barrage of foam darts.

The living room erupts into chaos. You dive behind an armchair, Powder taking cover behind another couch. Foam darts fly in every direction, peppering the air with colorful streaks.

You peek out, catching Sevika's eye across the room. She winks at you before ducking to avoid a well-aimed shot from Powder.

"Cover me!" you shout to Powder, making a dash for the hallway where the crown disappeared.

Ekko leaps over the couch, trying to intercept you. "Oh no, you don't!" he yells, unleashing a volley of darts in your direction.

You slide across the hardwood floor, narrowly avoiding his attack. Sevika provides covering fire for Ekko, keeping Powder pinned down.

As you scramble to your feet at the kitchen entrance, ready to grab the crown and make a triumphant dash to Vander, you freeze. The crown is gone.

A throat clears behind you. You turn to see Vander, sitting calmly at the kitchen table. Beside him stands Ren, a victorious grin on her face and the crown placed neatly on Vander's head.

The chaos in the living room dies down as everyone realizes what's happened. Ren's giggles fill the sudden silence.

"I believe," Vander says, his eyes twinkling with amusement, "that we have a winner."

For a moment, you're all too stunned to speak. Then Powder bursts out laughing, followed quickly by Ekko. Soon, you're all in stitches, the absurdity of the situation hitting you all at once.

As you catch your breath, you feel Sevika's arm wrap around your waist. "Can’t believe we were outsmarted by an eight-year-old," she murmurs in your ear.

You lean into her, watching as Vander lifts Ren onto his shoulders, parading her around the kitchen as the victor. Ekko and Powder are already arguing about a rematch and new teammates for next time.

As the excitement of the game winds down, Vander glances at the clock. "It's getting late."

You nod in agreement, glancing over at Ren. “Do you want to stay at Powder’s or with us tonight?”

Ren's eyes light up. "Stay with Powder!" she exclaims without hesitation.

Before you can even respond, Powder and Ekko are already shepherding Ren up the stairs, their voices a jumble of excited plans for a sleepover.

Caitlyn and Vi exchange a knowing look. "Ooh, you two are finally getting some alone time," Vi teases with a wink.

You feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but Sevika seems unfazed.

"So, how are those new recruits doing on the walls? Getting the hang of things?" You ask, trying to get the attention off you.

Caitlyn's face does a complicated dance between diplomacy and honesty. "Well, they're... enthusiastic."

Vi snorts, unable to contain herself. "Come on, cupcake. Tell 'em the truth."

Caitlyn's facade cracks. "Alright, fine. Their aim is absolutely atrocious. I've never seen so many missed targets in my life. We had one recruit who managed to shoot his own hat off."

You all burst out laughing, the mental image too ridiculous to resist.

Vander shakes his head. "Everyday I’m thankful that’s not me, I'm getting too old for that kind of headache."

Sevika raises an eyebrow at him. "Not too old to keep experimenting with your homebrews though, are you?"

You all laugh at that. It's true - besides overseeing the community's agriculture, Vander's taken to crafting various meads and ales in his spare time.

"I'll have you know that my brewing skills only improve with age, unlike my patience," Vander puffs up his chest in mock indignation. “And I'm taking back the ale from tonight, can't have you lot disparaging my other talents.”

Vi grins. "C'mon, Vander. You know the community needs that alcohol. How else are we supposed to cope with Powder's 'experiments'?"

This sets off another round of laughter, but your conversation is suddenly interrupted when Ren comes downstairs, looking shy and hesitant.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

Sevika seems to understand before you do, her voice softening as she reaches out to Ren. “Come on, kid. Let’s get you tucked in.”

The three of you make your way upstairs, the house now quiet as the night settles in. Ren leads you to the bedroom she’s sharing with Powder and Ekko.

Sevika moves to the bed, pulling back the covers and helping Ren climb in. Ren looks up at you both, her eyes wide and a little sad, as Sevika tucks the blankets around her snugly. “Can you get it?” Ren asks quietly.

You follow her gaze to the small play tent in the corner of the room, where she likes to spend her time during the day. You walk over, crouching down to peer inside, and that’s when you see it—peeking out from under a pile of toys. Your breath hitches as you recognize it instantly: Grayson’s yellow armband.

You carefully pull it out, the fabric worn but still vibrant, and bring it over to Ren. She takes it from you, her small hands wrapping around the band as if it’s the most precious thing in the world. “I miss her,” she whispers.

Your heart breaks at the sight of her holding onto that small piece of Grayson. You kneel beside the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “I know, honey,” you say softly. “We all miss her. But she’s always with us, in here.” You gently place a hand over Ren’s heart, offering her a comforting smile.

Ren nods and she clutches the armband tightly, her grip strong for someone so small. Sevika’s expression is unreadable, a mix of emotions flashing across her face as she watches the scene unfold.

After a few moments, Ren’s eyelids start to droop, exhaustion finally taking over. You lean down, pressing a gentle kiss to Ren’s forehead. “Goodnight sweetie,” you whisper.

You and Sevika quietly bid Ekko and Powder goodnight as well, sharing a few last words before heading back downstairs. The house is much quieter now, the energy from earlier having dissipated into a peaceful calm. You say your goodbyes to Vander, Caitlyn, and Vi, thanking them for the evening.

As you step out into the cool night air, the streets of Zaun are mostly quiet. Sevika’s hand finds yours, her grip warm and comforting. “You okay?” she asks.

You nod, though your mind is still on Ren and the armband. “Yeah,” you say softly, squeezing her hand. “It’s just… it’s hard sometimes, you know? Seeing how much she misses Grayson.”

Sevika doesn’t respond right away, but you feel her thumb brushing gently over your knuckles, a silent gesture of understanding. “She’s a tough kid,” she finally says. “She’s more resilient than we think.”

You wordlessly agree, falling into a comfortable silence as you guys listen to the hum of the surrounding houses and your footsteps on the pavement. For a while, neither of you speak, simply enjoying the quiet together.

You find yourself stealing glances at Sevika, admiring her profile in the dim light. She catches you looking and raises an eyebrow, a small smirk playing at the corner of her lips. You playfully bump your shoulder against hers, and she returns the gesture, a bit harder.

You smile, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you bump her again, just to see what she’ll do.

Sevika doesn’t say anything, but you can see the corner of her mouth twitching upward, that almost-smile that she gets when she’s trying to keep her cool but failing just a bit. She bumps you back, a little more firmly this time, and you laugh, the sound light and carefree in the stillness of the night.

You nudge her again, and this time, she stops walking altogether. Before you can react, she grabs your hand, pulling you toward her with a gentle but firm tug. The sudden movement catches you off guard, and you stumble slightly, your hands instinctively reaching out to steady yourself.

But Sevika’s already there, her strong arms wrapping around you, holding you close. There’s a brief moment where you just look at each other, the playful teasing of earlier fading into something softer, more intimate. The distance between you disappears, and you feel the warmth of her body against yours, the steady rise and fall of her chest as she breathes.

She doesn’t say anything—doesn’t need to. The look in her eyes, the way she’s holding you, it says it all.

Without a word, she leans down, her lips brushing against yours in a kiss. It’s sweet and gentle, and it fills you with a warmth that spreads through your chest, making you feel like you could stay here forever, wrapped up in this simple, perfect moment.

You melt into the kiss, your hand sliding from her shoulder to the nape of her neck.

When she finally pulls back, it’s only by a fraction, her forehead resting against yours as she breathes out a soft sigh. You can't resist leaning in to place another quick kiss on her lips, delighting in the way it makes her smile.

"What was that for?" you ask softly, not that you're complaining.

"Do I need a reason?" she asks, her voice husky but tender.

You shake your head, smiling. "Definitely not. Feel free to do that anytime."

She chuckles softly, pulling you close as you resume your walk home. Her arm wraps securely around your waist, and you lean into her, feeling safe and cherished.

taglist:

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@poxismind @kittykatz1227 @archangeldyke-all @abbyssgf @ivorydevil

@lez-zuha @iamastar @jellyfishrnice @anemoxlys @l0vel3tterl0ver

@lavendersgirl @h0pe-scotch @lia-winther @kittykatz1227 @dontknowwhenispawned

@sevikitty @sarahduke @raphaellearp @cewl-casper @crying-lighting443

@sodavrr @sweet-lover-girl @love-sevikalove @pinkyykisses @glass-apothecary

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@levilvrr @theacedragon0w0

#arcane sevika #sevika #sevika imagine #arcane #sevika x reader #sevika x you #wlw fanfic #zombie apocolypse au #sevika x female reader #smut #sevika smut

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fivewantscoffee · 1 month ago

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Alright, hear me out:

Post S1 AU where they don't end up in the sixties. Five successfully transports them all back into their 17-year-old bodies, on the day Ben died.

So Ben opens his eyes, and he suddenly realises something. He's sitting on his bed, a book in hand, and he can feel the sheets under him. He can feel the wall behind him, and the weight of clothes on his back.

He's breathing, not out of habit or because the alternative still feels wrong to him, but because he's alive. For the first time in thirteen years, Ben is alive again.

He hears the voices of his siblings, coming out of their own rooms, running up and down the stairs, and before he knows it, he's running as well.

He's out of his room and down the stairs faster than he's ever been, and then he stops all at once because he sees Allison, and Allison sees him.

She lets out a choked sound, hands flying up to cover her mouth. The next thing he knows, his sister is hugging him, and then Viktor, and Klaus, and Diego, and even Luther-

They're all talking over each other. Luther is asking if everyone is here, Viktor is apologising for ending the world, Allison is letting go of Ben to hug Viktor instead.

There is no shortage of tears, but looking around at each other, counting heads, they all realise pretty much at the same moment that someone is missing.

Five isn't here, Ben realises with the smile frozen on his face, just as Luther asks:

"Where is Five?"

"He was right there with us." Allison points out, "Between me and Diego."

And then they realise: They're all seventeen again. Five isn't here because when he was seventeen, he was still-

In the apocalypse.

Just then, there is a deafening thunderclap, noise and light accompanied by a sudden sense of deja vu because this has happened before.

They all run out into the courtyard just in time to watch Five come falling out of his swirling vortex of bright blue light. Except it isn't the scrawny little thirteen-year-old they they've come to know: it's a teenager who's too thin, dressed in rags, and groaning in pain as he pushes himself up on his knees and elbows.

Through long, dirty hair, he looks at each of them.

"Oh, good..." He rasps out, "I made it."

Then he drops back down in a dead faint. They manage to catch him, somehow, and start screaming for Grace.

Later, they're all standing around outside the infirmary while Grace, having reassured them that their brother is going to be fine, checks up on Five. The mission alarm goes off.

Last time, Ben died on that mission. This time, they all refuse to go. They have Ben and Five back, they know the truth about Viktor now, and for the first time in a long time, they all have each other.

They get a second chance.

This time, when 1 April 2019 comes around, the world doesn't end.

#tua #ben hargreeves #five hargreeves #allison hargreeves #luther hargreeves #viktor hargreeves #diego hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #hargreeves siblings #☕️ writes #I guess????

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violettathepiratequeen · 1 month ago

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How could the Shanshu Prophecy NOT have been about Spike in Chosen?

The Prophecy states that a vampire with a soul would play a pivotal role in the apocalypse, and would be rewarded with becoming human when that happened. This was introduced in S1 of AtS, where it was also explicitely stated that the vampire in question isn't named, just that it's one with a soul. And since Angel was unique in that way, naturally it's assumed that he's the one they're referring to (but then why not name him if he was the only one it could apply to hmmm?) Wolfram and Hart took the extra step of research to learn that it was unclear whether the vampire would play a pivotal role on the side of good, or the side of evil, so they tried their darndest to get Angel on the side of evil through all five seasons.

But, hello? Angel has had a soul for a hundred and something years. And he's been through an apocalypse or two, first with Buffy, then on his own show. What's he been doing all this time? Which apocalypse are we talking about here? Lindsey claims the apocalypse has been going on all around them in Season 5, but the Buffyverse has always had clearly marked events signalling the end of the world that had to be prevented. The world being a mess is NOT an apocalypse in and of itself.

And then another vampire gets himself a soul, that could only have been forseen in prophecy, because he decided on his own to go and fight for it. After getting said soul, the First Evil immediately latched onto Spike and started grooming him, manipulating him, and brainwashing him into killing people. Random bystanders at first, probably testing to see if it could work on Buffy and her friends.

So Spike could very well have been on the side of evil in S7, if he didn't work so hard to resist the First's influence, if he didn't ask Buffy to help him, if he didn't break through his trigger. Or hell, even if he'd left town.

And then Angel is handed a mystical amulet and some info meant to help with whatever is going on in Sunnydale. He hands it over to Buffy and offers to be the champion in question, but she says no, and chooses Spike instead.

I'm not gonna get into the whole Spuffy side of this, haha, but S7 was about Buffy choosing Spike, every single time, in every aspect of her life, in love, and in battle. And this universe did originate with her, so she ought to be the one to determine this, within the confines of the show, anyway.

Spike takes it willingly, they both know he's probably going to die, Buffy does try to get him out of there when she sees he IS dying, and he stays, giving his life so that she and everyone else can live. His soul powers the amulet, his love sets their hands aflame, and his heroic act bathes him in sunlight before he's destroyed.

In the battle against THE FIRST EVIL. If I was gonna pick which apocalypse the Shanshu was talking about, I would choose one that had a villain called THAT. Plus it's Spike's first apocalypse with a soul, so that would also make sense that it's the one the Prophecy is referring to. No resting on his laurels for THIS vampire.

Except, instead, he dies and shows up on Angel's show disoriented and alone and without Buffy and with a complete 180 personality, battling with Angel on who the Prophecy is about, and you'll notice the show never does answer that question. Because Spike objectively makes the most sense. But it's not like they could make Angel play second fiddle ON HIS OWN SHOW.

No, what they should have done, is let the finale of Buffy cross over with Angel properly. Not just a cameo, but bring the whole Angel crew in, so that anyone watching the show would be forced to watch that specific episode of Buffy just to keep up with the story.

And Spike should have Shanshued. And Angel would have been disappointed, sure, but hey, he's BEEN human before. And he didn't like it. He even got a ring that made him impervious to harm. And he didn't like it. He loved Cordy more deeply (and more recently) than he ever loved Buffy. So it's not like he's really waiting for her anymore. Plus Cordy is part demon now, so Angel doesn't have to worry about not being enough for her. (Oh yeah, they should have brought Cordy out of her coma for this ending, to make any kind of cohesive sense).

But Spike... Spike was always more human to begin with. He may not have ever thought becoming human was on his bucket list, but he didn't think that about a soul either, until the time came where he needed it. He would LOVE to take Buffy out in the sun, and grow old with her, and give her the family and white picket fence that she's always secretly wanted and didn't think she could ever have. He would have still died, the same way soulless Spike died the minute he got a soul, but without all the heartbreak the canon ending gave us.

I'm partial to the stories where the Shanshu means some vamp powers like extra strength and healing remain, but those are just semantics.

As a cherry on top it would prove to anyone who's ever called it into question, and I include Buffy and Spike themselves on this list, that it's not that Buffy wants normal, nor is it that she wants a demon. She loves Spike for who he is, demon or not, human or not, but the soul and humanity would have helped him be the best version of himself, a man worthy of loving her and living with her, and after all the battles they've fought in their relationship to get here, it feels like it would have been kind of a sign that someone out there gives their blessing on this pairing. And Buffy could have said she loved him and chosen him AGAIN, in front of everyone, including Angel, and that would have been our endgame ending. (Though... to be honest if the comics still happened after this and Spuffy broke up at any point I would have been betrayed in a whole different way.)

And that's how BtVS could have ended. Angel could have gone on to have another season more or less the same, without any Spike or Buffy or Shanshu to speak of. And it could have ended EXACTLY the same.

The writing was literally so perfect and set it up for Spike so beautifully and unexpectedly. It wouldn't have even had to be a slap in the face for Angel because a. neither show was afraid of disrespecting a character at any point, and b. if it had been done on Buffy's show, it would have been less of a blow and made more sense, that Angel went back to BtVS to watch this unfold, where he wasn't the main character anyway. The Prophecy introduced on his show was really intended to be in service to hers, as any spinoff show ought to be.

Plus the episode title Chosen is such a beautiful one that has so many double and triple and quadruple meanings that one more would have been awesome.

So yeah. Those are my thoughts on the Shanshu this fine evening. Obviously many, many Spuffy fics (including my own) have given it to Spike or Angel or neither, all with their own reasons. And of course there's lots and lots of opinions on whether we would even want that for Spike, or if Spike and Buffy would want it.

But I think it just needed to be spelled out that from a writing standpoint, this would have made the most sense, and why.

#spike #buffy #btvs #buffy the vampire slayer #angel #angel the series #ats #spuffy #shanshu prophecy #buffy slays #spuffy meta #buffy meta #angel meta #my meta

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 5 months ago

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Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 5: Heads Or Tails, Fairy Tales In My Mind]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon™️, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, RIP Jace.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Are We The Waiting” by Green Day.

Word count: 5.8k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

“I know he has a scalpel in his bag,” Baela says, meaning Aemond. You are sitting with her on the front steps of a two-story house—1970s construction, split foyer, pale blue siding and rust-red bricks—on Trux Street in Plymouth, Ohio. This town was named for the place where the pilgrims stepped off the Mayflower over four hundred years ago, pioneers who crossed through the doorway of an unfathomably changing world to die of disease, cold, accidents, starvation, violence. You wonder if you are so unlike them. “He’s assisted with c-sections before, if it comes to that. And he has needles and surgical thread. But he doesn’t have any way to anesthetize me.”

Luke and Rhaena are on the roof of the silver Chrysler Pacifica parked at the end of the driveway and surveilling the road. Everyone else is inside tearing the house apart as they try to find the keys. You don’t know what to say to Baela. There is no way to console her except by lying, and she’s too smart for that. “How far along are you?”

“I don’t even know.” She laughs like she’s on the verge of losing her mind. You don’t blame her. “The doctors calculate it based on the date of your last period, but mine was all over the place. I had tried a few different birth control pills and had all these side effects, weird spotting and cramping, no sex drive, feeling depressed, so I just figured I’d go all natural for six months and give my body a chance to reset. And we all know how that turned out.” She skims her palms over the globe of her belly, hidden beneath the flowing periwinkle cotton of a maternity dress she found at the Walmart back in Shenandoah. “I’m officially due in four weeks.”

“But it could happen at any time.”

Baela nods miserably. “My mum had me and Rhaena the…you know…the natural way, and it was smooth sailing. But she needed an emergency c-section with my little brother. What happens if that’s how it goes for me? Do you ever think about all the ways people can die now? It’s not just the zombies. I could get murdered, or fall and crack my skull open, or get a cut that turns septic, or rupture my appendix, or get frostbite or heatstroke, or get bitten by a snake. It never ends. We’ll be balancing on the knife’s edge for the rest of our lives.”

You wish you were better with words; you wish you were someone who spoke effortlessly like Rio or Aegon. You reply with the only thing you can think of. “Humans have survived for hundreds of thousands of years, and for the vast majority of that time with no modern medicine. It was dangerous, and it was painful. But there have always been people who made it. We wouldn’t exist otherwise.”

Remarkably, this seems to help. “I know Aemond will do everything he can for me,” Baela says, more steadily now. “He’s always been the most dependable one. So serious, so protective. Daeron was visiting us in Boston when everything shut down, and Aemond wouldn’t let the kid out of his sight for weeks…then Aemond almost died when he lost his eye and Daeron proved he could take care of himself with his compound bow.” Baela unwraps a Twizzler and takes a bite out of it, gazing vacantly at the sky, calm and overcast now that the storm has passed, breezy, mid-80s. She doesn’t even like them, but she’s been eating through a pack of Twizzlers Luke had been carrying in his backpack for Jace, slow mindless chewing like a cow’s. “Aemond feels responsible for you now. And that’s difficult when there’s so little control he actually has over what ends up happening.”

“Baela…I’m so sorry about Jace.”

“Drowning isn’t so bad, I guess. I hope he drowned. I hope he was dead before he washed ashore and they ate him.” Baela turns to you, eyes glazed. “Do you think we should have shot him before we left the river? To make sure he didn’t die in pain? You could have done it if you wanted to. Your aim is good enough.”

“No,” you say, horrified but trying to soften it. “I think that would have been…immoral.”

“I don’t even have a picture of Jace to show the baby, everything was online or on my phone, and now that’s all…gone. Just gone. Like he never even existed. How am I going to explain to my child what Boston was, or law school, or aerospace engineering, or grocery stores or shopping malls or Instagram, or anything else about our lives before this whole fucking disaster? All they’ll ever know is running from monsters, scrounging for shelter and supplies from the ruins of civilization.”

“The world is going to come back, Baela. Maybe not for five or ten years, and maybe looking a lot different than it did before, but humanity will recover. The Black Death wasn’t the end, and neither were the World Wars or the Mongol invasions or the colonization of the Americas, or famines or floods or volcanic eruptions. The zombies won’t end us either.”

“Do you really believe that?”

I want to. “Yeah, I do. We just have to hold on until the tide turns. We can’t give up.”

“In that case, I’ll try not to go completely insane in the immediate future. Thank God Rhaena and Luke are still here. Do you have any siblings?”

You smile vaguely. “Four.”

“Wow,” Baela says. “Do you know where they are now?”

There is an interruption before you have to decide how to answer: a roaring high above in the sky, a remote mechanical growling. You and Baela both look up to see a jet zooming by, just below the steel grey cloud cover and leaving a trail of condensation behind it like a comet’s tail of eons-old cosmic dust. From where he is perched atop the Pacifica, Luke is pointing at the jet to show Rhaena. Aemond, Rio, Aegon, and Daeron come rocketing out of the house to find the source of the noise. After a moment, Helaena moseys onto the front porch as well, tucking flashlights and napkins into her burlap messenger bag. Meanwhile, Aegon is filling his pockets with packs of Marlboro Golds and orange prescription bottles labelled Percocet.

“Is that an airplane?!” Aegon gasps. “People are flying again?! Oh, we are back, baby! We are so back! I’m catching the next flight to SFO, peace out bitches, no more Oregon Trail for me!”

“It’s a jet,” Aemond says flatly. “Not a passenger carrier. Probably military.”

“Doesn’t look like one of ours.” Rio turns to you for confirmation.

“No, I don’t recognize it.”

“Then who the fuck is up there?” Aegon says. “Canada? The U.K.?”

Rio sighs, ruffling Aegon’s already quite disheveled blonde hair. “Who knows, Honey Bun. Maybe it’s China or Russia swinging by to drop nukes on any survivors.”

“Fortunately, nobody’s going to waste a nuclear bomb on freaking Plymouth, Ohio,” Baela says, watching the jet vanish into the west, the droning of its engines replaced by the breeze through the sugar maples and sycamores, the screeching of cicadas and chirps of robins. “No luck finding the keys?”

Aemond frowns as he shakes his head, tapping his chin anxiously. He knows she can’t walk much farther.

“How do none of us know how to hotwire a car?” Aegon demands, exasperated.

Rio replies cheerfully: “Well, Chips and I have been diligently serving this glorious nation since we were eighteen years old, and you’re all clueless rich kids. So…I think that just about sums it up.”

“I need more arrows,” Daeron says, clutching his compound bow. All the ones he had are now speared through zombies along the river where Jace died. When you snuck away from the farm at dawn, Luke used his binoculars to check the shores; they were still swamped with zombies, even more than the night before. They are pack animals; alone, they are aimless and easily confounded, their memories calamitously short. As part of a group—if they were crows they’d be a murder, if they were camels they’d be a caravan—zombies attract and guide each other, moving symbiotically like planets and moons locked in orbit.

“I think you’re going to have to start making them the old fashioned way, kid,” Rio tells Daeron, accompanied by a rough pat of encouragement on the back.

“What, like with sticks?!”

“Yeah. Use a knife to carve one end to make it pointy and you’re good to go.”

“Love it. Very pioneer.” Aegon holds up a Sony Walkman, pink and covered with Disney stickers, Ava spelled out across the top in glittering rhinestones. “At least I found this. Helaena, do we have any more AA batteries?” She fishes around in her bag and hands him a pair.

Baela gapes at him, but she’s smiling. It’s horrible, it’s absurd, it’s something you can’t help but find a macabre humor in. “Aegon, you cannot use that poor eaten kid’s CD player. You know it’s haunted.”

Aegon sings like a jingle from a commercial: “Little Ava died, RIP. Now I get to listen to my CDs.”

“Oh, that is so fucked up!” Rio cackles.

You say, grinning: “Aegon, I’m really going to miss you when we’re all in heaven at the bowling alley made of clouds and you’re downstairs in the fiery version of the afterlife.”

“Don’t feel bad for me, Chipmunk. You’re the one who’s going to die without ever having an orgasm.”

“You don’t need a man for that, Aegon,” Baela says.

“You definitely don’t,” you agree. Aemond glances over at you, intrigued. You stare dauntlessly back. What? You said you weren’t interested. The corners of his lips curl up in a reticent smile; he looks down to try to hide it. He’s touching his chin again. His cheeks flush pink as his mind wanders.

Rio chuckles. “Oh yeah, I remember your little experimenting phase. Lots of trips to the Spencer’s in the Tysons Corner mall when we were stationed at Anacostia.”

You raise your eyebrows, though you’re not annoyed. “I thought you were never going to tell anybody about that.”

“It’s the end of the world, baby. No time to be shy.” Then Rio asks Aemond: “Since we’re here and it’s quiet, you want to go ahead and check every house that has a car with the fuel cap still closed? There are some minivans and SUVs down at the other end of the street. Even a few gallons of gas will take us farther than days on foot.”

Aegon adds, checking his map: “A half tank would get us all the way to Decatur, Indiana.”

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Aemond says. He offers Baela a hand and helps lift her to her feet. “You guys go ahead, I’ll meet you down at the driveway with the black…what is that, a Honda Odyssey? You know the one, the van in front of the yellow house. Don’t go inside until I get there.”

“Yup!” Aegon agrees as he speeds off, racing Daeron to the house. Rio—not one for sprinting—jogs after them with his Remington in hand, ready to bash rotting skulls in at a moment’s notice. Baela toddles down to the Pacifica to tell Luke and Rhaena the plan, her periwinkle dress billowing in the wind; then they climb down to walk with her. Helaena floats across the sidewalk like a ghost, pausing to pick buttercups that grow up between the cracks in the cement.

Aemond has been waiting until the two of you are alone. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, sure.” A few houses down, a female zombie—early-twenties, white bikini top, red Ohio State shorts—staggers across the yard and in her attempt to snag Aegon falls and impales herself on the white picket fence. She is suspended there, clawing and yowling, her blackening intestines and dark clotted blood staining the wood. Aegon takes his time getting into a stance and swings his golf club like he’s at a driving range. He hits her dead-on, caves the front of her face in, takes a few more shots just to be sure.

“I get what’s in Oregon for Rio,” Aemond says. “Sophie, the baby, his parents. But why are you going there?”

“Rio’s my best friend. He might be my only friend who’s still alive. And when we left Saratoga Springs, he made me promise that I wouldn’t let him die alone. So before anything else, I have to make sure he gets to Odessa and finds his family. And then I can figure out what’s next for me. But if it really is safe there, I don’t see why I’d leave. I’ve never wanted to be on my own. Maybe I can end up having a family in Oregon too.”

Aemond rests his elbows on the porch railing. He’s teasing you. “We’re friends, aren’t we? I’m still alive.”

You tease him back. He deserves it. “I’m not sure about you and me.”

“I’d like for us to be friends.”

“Would you?”

“Resoundingly.”

“Maybe I’ll give it a try.”

He considers you. “You know, Kentucky might have been a good place for you to hide out. And it would be a lot closer than Oregon.”

You stand up, throwing on your backpack full of bullets for your Beretta M9s, beef jerky and peanut butter crackers and granola bars, lip balm, bottles of water, Kleenex tissues, Juicy Fruit, miscellaneous treasures from the road, practically worthless trinkets made so impossibly valuable. “We’re done here, right?”

Aemond is disappointed, though not with you. He has committed an error he cannot understand. “Yeah, we’re done.” He walks with you to the yellow house, your sneakers pounding in tandem on the sidewalk, squirrels and rabbits darting through the overgrown lawns, eastern tiger swallowtails swooping between blossoms.

Aegon says when you and Aemond arrive in the driveway, nodding to the once-attractive blonde zombie pawing and licking at the glass of the living room window: “Who wants to take care of Ryan Seacrest?”

“Got it,” Rio replies immediately. He kicks down the front door, macerates the zombie’s skull with the butt of his Remington, then sweeps through the kitchen and dining room searching for any other monsters in need of hasty euthanasia. He doesn’t find any. He drags the corpse outside to lessen the stench of decomposition and opens all the downstairs windows.

“Commence Operation Find The Minivan Keys,” Aegon says as he rummages through drawers and cabinets. Helaena joins him, seeking so delicately she is almost soundless, her large blue eyes flicking from place to place. Luke, Rhaena, and Daeron stay outside to keep watch. Baela collapses into a recliner in one corner of the living room and is dozing within seconds.

“I’ll clear the upstairs,” Aemond volunteers, then asks you: “Watch my blind side?”

You can’t help but smile; it is a generous invitation. It is an honor. You shadow him up the staircase of olive green carpet, through the hallway, into each of the three bedrooms and one full bath. When you are certain it is safe—exploring the back of every closet, under every bed—you and Aemond begin searching for weapons and car keys. The main bedroom is like a forest: blankets pattered with trees and deer, wood furniture, paintings of the Battle of the Wilderness during the Civil War. You investigate every drawer of the nightstand and dresser, then go to leave.

“Wait.” Aemond peeks out into the hallway to make sure no one else is around, then closes the bedroom door. Your eyes track him quizzically, shy skittish optimism, your head tilted, your fingers finding the dresser behind you, cool rust-hued oak, a color like dried blood. You slip off your backpack. Then Aemond comes to you like a returning comet—once in a lifetime, once in an eon—and holds your face in his hands as he kisses you, soft, careful, unhurried, then turning famished, sweltering incurable hunger. You lift yourself up onto the dresser; your thighs have parted, and Aemond is between them, still fully clothed and leaving yours in place too, so innocent, so spotless, and yet in your mind you are imagining what it would feel like to lie beneath him as he opens and fills you, to be so irredeemably close to another person, to watch and listen as he teaches you what to do.

Right here? Right now?

It suddenly strikes you as too soon; you want this but you aren’t ready. Your heart races, you can’t catch your breath. “I am obligated to make you aware that according to your own calculations, I am likely dangerously fertile at the moment.”

Aemond grins as he bites playfully at your lower lip. “Relax. We’re not rounding all the bases this time.”

His voice evaporates your panic, lulls your rushing blood. Your muscles turn to seamless rippling water. Your bones crave the weight of his. “Yeah, totally, good, that’s good. Just making sure.”

“I want to touch you. Can I touch you?”

In reply, you unbutton your denim shorts and pull down the zipper, slowly, very slowly, your gaze linked with his like torn flesh stitched together. He’s close enough to kiss you again, but he doesn’t; he takes your chin gently and turns your face to the side, admiring the curve of your jaw. Then his lips are on your throat and his right hand is skimming down the front of your shirt, over your belly, under your shorts. You gasp—the foreignness of another’s hand here, the disorienting vulnerability—and Aemond stops.

“No, I’m okay,” you assure him, smiling. You kiss him deeply, your fingertips tracing his scar, the work of his careful, gifted hands. Aemond does not flinch away. He presses his face into your palm, offering himself fully, taking shelter in you. And everything other than him—this house, this world, this age, this westward journey, this apocalypse—goes quiet, quiet, quiet, like when you are shooting, like when you are hammering nails under the sun. Aemond makes everything horrifying disappear. It is the greatest sort of magic you can imagine.

“So,” he says. “What did you buy at Spencer’s?”

“Green Day t-shirts.”

“Sure.”

“And some, uh, battery-powered companionship.”

“Hm.” Aemond’s fingers are moving against you; it is increasingly difficult to respond to his questions. “Internal or external? Or both?”

“Oh, definitely…um…I stayed on the outside, mostly. I tried…oh wow, okay…inside a few times, but I didn’t get much out of it. It was mostly just uncomfortable.”

“No problem. We’ll work up to that.”

“Will we?” You hope you don’t sound too desperate. The warm coiling pleasure is swelling, strengthening, begging to be released, loosed like an arrow or fired like a bullet. Aemond’s fingers slip through your wetness, circling and pressing down harder, insistently, masterfully. It feels different than using toys: it is more gradual, less sharp, helplessly overpowering.

“That’s my plan. If you’ll allow it.”

You exhale a threadbare ghost of a whimper against his throat and then reach for his shorts, fumbling blindly for the button and zipper.

“No, don’t do anything,” Aemond murmurs, soft and pleading, almost like a prayer. “Let me take care of you. Please let me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re doing a lot right at the moment.” You’re close now, your breaths quick and panting. You throw your arms around the back of Aemond’s neck and fold into him, feeling the thudding pulse of his carotid artery beneath your fingertips, the softness of his lips and unscarred cheek as he nuzzles the side of your face. It’s so quiet, but there’s no need to fill the silence, no words, no uneasiness. You’ve always wondered what you would have to do to please a man, what premeditated motions and praises you would offer him, niceties, perhaps even lies. But this is effortless. The shimmering golden glow like sunlight is here, and he is the one drawing it out of you, water from a well, blood from a tapped vein. The only sound you make is a shuddering inhale, but Aemond knows immediately. He closes his eyes, relieved, proud, beaming, resting his forehead against yours.

He asks: “Can I try…?”

“Yes, do it, please, I want you to.”

Aemond’s hand shifts between your thighs, moves lower, and there is a sudden jolt of pain like a pinch, like a bite. You wince before you can think to disguise it. Immediately, Aemond retreats, kissing your lips and your cheeks. “It’s okay, it’s okay. You were incredible.”

You reach for his shorts again and unbutton them. “Show me what to do.”

“You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t have to. I want to.”

He takes a shaky breath, drags his tongue over the fingers he touched you with, moans so quietly you can barely hear him. He frees himself from his clothes: long and thick, harder than you believed flesh could be. Aemond grasps your hand and places it, demonstrates how to move and how much pressure to apply. Then his own hands drop to grip the edge of the dresser as you stroke him. You nip at his throat, his jaw, the shell of his ear; you coax euphoric sighs from him, feel a high in your bloodstream like something illicit and lethal.

“I’ll be honest,” you say. “I have no idea how that’s ever going to fit inside me.”

Aemond chuckles, distracted. “Women stretch, just like men do. It might take time, but it will happen. And I’ll make sure it’s as good as it can be.”

“I want it to be you, Aemond,” you whisper, and you can feel him throbbing in your hand. “You and no one else. Teach me how to do everything.” Make the world go away.

He gasps as he finishes, a thunderous trembling all over, a gush of white heat that flows over your hand. Curious, you lift it to your mouth. “Don’t—!”

But he’s too late; you lick him from your palm and then recoil at the taste, pungent, bitter, salty.

Aemond laughs hysterically, kissing your mouth and then your forehead. “Oh God, I’m sorry, I should have warned you.”

“I hope I taste better than that.”

“You definitely do.”

You peer up at him, dazed, dreamy. “I really like you, Aemond.”

“You can’t fall in love with me.” It is a taunt; it is a warning.

“If I do, I won’t let you know,” you promise. “You’re on first watch tonight, aren’t you?”

“I am.”

“Then I’ll stay up too.”

“Rio already volunteered to do it.”

“Really, I don’t mind.”

“No,” Aemond purrs, brushing your hair back from your face, marveling at you. “I can’t have you sleep deprived. You’re our best shot.”

“I can handle it.”

“You want to be honest with each other, you want to communicate? I like knowing you’re rested. I like knowing you’re safe.”

The door flies open with a bang; Aegon stands in the threshold. “We’ve got three-quarters of a tank of gas!” he announces ecstatically, jangling car keys in the air. Then he registers what he’s looking at. “Come outside when you’re done fucking.” Aegon slams the door shut; you hear his Sperry Bahama sneakers drumming on the staircase.

“I guess we should go,” you say reluctantly, untangling yourself from Aemond and sliding down from the dresser.

“Wait.” He gets a water bottle out of your backpack, soaks a handful of Kleenex tissues, and gives them to you to clean yourself off. When you’re done, he wipes himself down too. “Make sure you always take a piss after any…activities. We don’t have antibiotics if you get a kidney infection.”

“I know, doctor. I’ve read Reddit threads.”

“Not a doctor. Just a lowly intern.”

“You seem like an anatomy expert to me,” you say, then head downstairs.

The black Honda Odyssey is idling as the last of the supplies are loaded, the windows down, Baela adjusting the driver’s seat so she can accommodate her belly. Everyone piles inside and she steers the minivan out of the driveway and onto Trux Street. Aegon pops one of his mixtapes into the CD player. The song that pipes through the speakers is Prayer In C:

“Yeah, you never said a word

You didn’t send me no letter

Don’t think I could forgive you…”

“So,” Baela says casually, grinning at you in the rearview mirror. “How was the sex?”

“Stop,” Aemond begs, his face going red, smiling involuntarily.

You say placidly: “I appreciate your interest, but that’s not what we were doing.”

Rio turns to Aegon. “Do you know what sex looks like or not, dumbass?”

“They were doing something, okay! Those were not virginal activities!”

“See, our world is slowly dying

I’m not wasting no more time

Don’t think I could believe you…”

You rest your head on Aemond’s shoulder and watch the abandoned houses pass by in a blur.

~~~~~~~~~~

The Odyssey arrives in Decatur, Indiana just a few hours before sunset, gas to spare and plenty of time to find a safe place to spend the night. You break into a house on the outskirts of the west side of the city: a rancher with a screened-in porch, beach décor, bowls of seashells on tables and spray-painted aluminum dolphins on the wall. Baela plummets into sleep immediately, sharing the largest bed with Rhaena and Luke. Helaena writes in her spider notebook for a while before curling up on the living room couch, Daeron sprawled on the floor beside her with a couch cushion for a pillow. Aegon is in what was once a child’s bedroom; you have the bedroom of a teenage girl, perhaps spirited away to friends or relatives in some other part of the country, perhaps dead, perhaps lurching around out in the night somewhere, mad and murderous. Everything is purple, the walls, the blankets, the stuffed animals that form a mountain on the other half of the bed.

You are exhausted, but you can’t sleep. Your thoughts won’t stop racing, stop craving. Aemond and Rio are in rocking chairs out on the porch, keeping watch and working their way through the case of Sunny D they found in the kitchen pantry. You go out to join them, then stop at the screen door that separates the linoleum-floored dining room from the porch. They are discussing you. You sit, legs crossed, listening in the dim silvery light, stars and moon and nothing else.

Aemond is saying: “She doesn’t talk much about where she came from.”

Rio chuckles, a low baritone rumble. “She doesn’t talk much in general. But yeah, don’t expect any juicy revelations. That’s not how she does things.”

“Do you know what her life was like before?”

“I know some of it. I don’t know a lot.” Rio pauses; you can envision him shrugging and running his fingers through his dark curly hair, weighing what you would be okay with him sharing. “I know that when I met her, her mother was calling all the time telling her to send money home. And she’d do it, because she felt like she didn’t have a choice. Then she never had cash for drinks or anything, I was always paying her way, and one day I was finally like ‘Chips, how much do you actually have in your account right now?’ because I figured she must be down real low. Jesus Christ, I couldn’t believe it when she showed me the balance, she had like three bucks left until her next paycheck, and of course then her mother would be calling again. She sent tens of thousands of dollars home that disappeared, poof, gone, without a trace.”

Aemond sounds stunned. “What did they spend it on?”

“Who the fuck knows with those people. Lottery tickets and cigs, probably. Trips to Virginia Beach. Benny Hinn Bibles. And when she tried to hit the brakes, her mother and siblings got nasty, calling constantly and telling her how awful she was and that they were going to starve. I convinced her to stop picking up the phone, but it took forever. I think she knew by then she was going to have to cut them off if she didn’t want to end up back there, but she needed somebody to give her permission. That was my job. As far as I know, she hasn’t spoken to anyone from home in years. Hell, Sophie was her AOP.”

“AOP…?”

“Oh, sorry, Arrears of Pay. It’s the person you designate to get all your benefits if you die in the service. I guess she figured that if our base got bombed or our plane went down or something, at least it would end up with my family.”

Aemond is quiet, thirty seconds, a minute, maybe two. “Obviously my circumstances were a lot different. But I understand having to choose between other people’s expectations and yourself.”

“Why are you asking me all this?”

Another pause; silent thoughts under glimmering stars and the shrieks of short-lived summer cicadas. “She takes me out of this world for a while. She makes the guilt and the fear go quiet. I want to know everything about her.”

When Rio speaks, he is gentle, compassionate. “The hard truth is, the details aren’t my business. They aren’t yours either. When people enlist, they’re starting over. It’s a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It gets them away from home, but it also gets them away from whoever they were before.”

“She said something like that once. Back at Fort Indiantown Gap.”

“It’s a polite way of telling you to shut up.” You know from his voice that Rio is smiling. “If she wants to forget her old life, you have to let her. If you care about her, you’ll want her to be able to move on.”

“I care.”

“She likes you,” Rio says. “But you could still fuck it up. She’s good at finding reasons not to trust people.”

“It’s a bad way to live.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I know. I’m the same way.”

There is quiet now, only the sounds of Sunny D being slurped and cicadas screaming through the darkness. You have intruded enough. You stand and walk back down the hallway, then remember something Aegon said outside a Burger King in Pennsylvania. You go to his bedroom, illuminated by a flashlight pointed towards the ceiling, casting long deformed shadows.

Aegon is lying on his back with his head hanging upside down over the side of the bed—dinosaur blankets, bright red and blue pillows—puffing on a cigarette and listening to his new CD player, previously Ava’s, with both earbuds in. Then he spots you. Still upside down, Aegon hits the pause button on his CD player and says: “Hey, Microchip.”

“What did you mean about people pretending to love you?”

He smirks, shrugs, takes a lazy drag off his Marlboro Gold. “Every friend I’ve ever had has used me for money, mansions, yachts. Every girl I’ve ever fucked has wanted something in return. Mother prefers Daeron, Grandfather prefers Helaena, Criston prefers Aemond, and Father prefers his real estate empire and his model ships. Can you imagine loving a miniature replica of the Titanic more than your own children?”

“No,” you say, honestly and with heavy, gore-red pity. “You shouldn’t have to go back to people who make you feel that way. I wouldn’t.”

Aegon takes another drag as he watches you. “Aemond mentioned you’re from Kentucky.”

“I am.”

“But you won’t be returning.”

“No.”

Aegon nods, like you’ve answered an important question. “Aemond talks about you a lot. It’s cute. It doesn’t make me sick like when he was with Alys. Playing her games, breaking himself in half to follow her rules.”

You peer down at your fingernails, short and functional and unglamorous. You don’t want to hear about the older woman who was his lover, his obsession, his cure, his venom. She was poisonous to him, surely, and yet she was experienced where you are uninitiated and unversed, she had a PhD to compare with your high school diploma. Surely in those seven years he shared moments with her that were divine. Surely even a curse is woven from magic.

“Anyway.” Aegon rolls over, props himself up on his elbows, and extinguishes his cigarette in an empty plastic Sunny D bottle. “I have no particular affinity for my old life or the beach house in California, but that’s where Aemond is going. And I have to be where he is. I have to make sure he’s alright, you know?”

Yes, you do know; that’s how you feel about Rio. “What’s it like? That house up on a cliff all by itself?”

Aegon grins, like he’s caught you in a mouthwateringly compromising position. “Why? You thinking about visiting someday?”

“Just wondering.”

He squirms over to one side of the bed to make room for you, popping in an earbud. “Come listen with me.”

“What is it?”

“Just come over here!”

You cross the room and kick off your sneakers, climb onto the bed, lie down and take the other earbud that Aegon offers you. What you hear when you listen is Don McLean’s American Pie. “Oh, this is ancient.”

“It’s a classic. I wish I’d gotten to live through the 70s.”

“We’ll reinvent them when the world starts up again. Disco and lava lamps and shag carpets. We’ll shoot heroin and listen to vinyl records. Jimmy Carter can be president if he’s still alive.”

Aegon snickers, and then he sings along, hushed but surprisingly melodic, solemn, tender. He’s looking at you expectantly, eyebrows raised, nodding, beckoning for you to join him. You adamantly refuse. You don’t sing in front of anybody, not even Rio.

“I met a girl who sang the blues

And I asked her for some happy news

But she just smiled and turned away

I went down to the sacred store

Where I’d heard the music years before

But the man there said the music wouldn’t play…”

Aegon shoves your shoulder. “I could be dead tomorrow. Don’t ignore me.”

Self-consciously, but smiling a little bit, you begin to sing with him, so softly you can barely hear yourself. Aegon is beaming, small even white teeth beneath sparkling eyes, a murky cool blue like storm clouds, like the ocean, waves lapping at the shores of Diego Garcia, the Gulf of Tadjoura off the east coast of Djibouti, Corpus Christi Bay, places you once never knew existed.

“And in the streets, the children screamed

The lovers cried and the poets dreamed

But not a word was spoken

The church bells all were broken

And the three men I admire most

The Father, Son, and the Holy Ghost

They caught the last train for the coast

The day the music died.”

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond x you #aemond x y/n #aemond #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #hotd fic #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction

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ghostieblr · 2 months ago

Text

Another AU that lives in my head rent free about Sterek is a time travel au.

In the canon timeline (i'm not counting that movie), which picks up at the S6 finale, things unravel fast. Monroe wages war against the supernatural, and Beacon Hills is ground zero. Except, surprisingly, 80% people support the supernaturals.

So Monroe spreads the war. She learns of the 13 Nemetons from Gerard, and sets out to destroy them all. Stiles and Derek are the first to put together what she's doing based on her traveling pattern; Derek tells Stiles about the legends, and Stiles deduces what she's about to do.

They cannot save all. Beacon Hills' "dead" Nemeton is the only one saved; Beacon Hills has also become a refuge for those now hunted without mercy. At one point, the war turned into a purge. There's no limitation to killing, no law strong enough to hold anyone accountable. There is only bloodshed.

It is the apocalypse brought by Monroe's hatred and people's prejudice, and world ends not because of the monsters, but because of the humans.

Stiles and Derek have grown close over the years. Their feelings are complicated, but they're shared under the moonlight beneath the Nemeton that has slowly but steadily grown over the years; Stiles is 30 now, and Derek is about to turn 36 next week (he's forever a Christmas baby to me idc). The war as it was has been over for a couple years, and Stiles has become the leader/mayor of the town. He knows how to protect and provide, and Derek is always by his side, an Alpha of his own right, the alpha spark ignited in him by the hand of fates and his own will power. Stiles' Spark dances, the silver of thunder against the glinting, ruby jewel of Derek's own.

They've become soldiers. They're surviving together. They're the only ones left from their original pack. Even Peter is dead, and for final this time.

Scott had left in the middle of war because in his dreams he'd seen Allison, alive and beckoning him, and nobody has heard from him since. He had no regard for the war, or the people who had wanted to take guidance from the "true alpha." Even his mother's pleas had fallen on deaf ears, the allure of his first love blinding him to everything and everyone.

Point is, the world has gone to shit. It would be better to restart.

Stiles confesses to Derek, "I wish we could turn back time."

Derek huffs out a laugh, one that speaks not of how absurd the wish is, but how much he needs it. "Only if we could."

Behind them, the Nemeton hums. They both feel it. They're both on the same page, and Stiles does what he does best: impulsively invades the Nemeton's insides. He has no clue how he does it, but he does it, and inside he finds that same white room, except now there's a humanoid shape floating in it.

When he comes out of that place, Derek asks him what they have to do.

Stiles tells him, and that's how they go back: Nemeton's power, fuelled by its rage and grief at having lost the other 12, and channeled through the strongest sparks existing, A True Alpha and The Spark; they conduct a ritual, their blood soaked in the roots, and then they wake up.

Stiles was 30. He is now... 9.

Derek was almost 36. He is now almost, a week shy, of 14.

It's December of 2003. (Stiles' birthday is April 08, 1994; Derek's is December 25, 1989). This is nearly a year before Claudia dies (which is Nov of 2004) and before the romance with Paige (it happens in the summer of 2004) and before the Hale fire (January 25th, 2005, exactly a month after Derek turns 16).

And guess what? They get to change everything.

They have their memories, and their powers. The Nemetons are alive — they help these two hide their powers. They help these two whenever needed.

Claudia's condition (which i can never spell right so i'm not even attempting it) cannot be healed by the bite, but Stiles' belief, his Spark, wills it so that she doesn't get worse. So, when the Stiles and Derek find a way to make them part of the Hale Pack, Claudia becomes Talia's beta.

Derek kindles a friendship with Paige. Stiles tells Derek he can try again with her — these time they'll never let anything happen to her.

"You want me to be with her."

"Yes. If you want it. She was your first love," Stiles says, all soft and honest. "And I'm... I know you love me. But I can't ask you to wait for me."

The tension in Derek eases. "Idiot," he chastises, Stiles' small hands in his, "I might be going through puberty but I'm not a teenage asshole who thinks with the wrong head. What we have isn't about sex either. If you worry that I'll resent you for me not being able to have sex till I'm 23, then you're an idiot."

"You already said that. And you've counted how long you'll have to wait."

"I am going through puberty, Stiles."

In short. Yes, their first time will be with each other — in this new timeline. (if i didn't explain it properly: they are rewriting everything. their past timeline technically will never exist, not even as a branched timeline).

So, yeah. Paige never dies, Claudia never dies, Kate is found dead 5 states over and it looks like a suicide; Gerard is killed before he can blind Duke, so Jennifer/Julia/The Darach and The Alpha Pack are no threats; Deaton is detained by the mysterious "Red" for violating the code of Druids and executed soon after; it takes some time, but Stiles & Derek manage to locate the dread doctors and they kill them, too.

All of the threats from canon are killed by the time Stiles is 16 again and Derek is almost 22.

Except, a faction of hunters are finally able to pin point that those who killed Gerard are from Beacon Hills. They're prejudiced because of Gerard's teachings, so they target the Hale Pack.

And it is because of this attack — during which Stiles gets heavily injured while protecting his mom — that Derek roars loud and ferocious, eyes red, as Talia's own alpha eyes stare back in shock, just like the rest of the pack. Stiles' wound is deep, and Derek orders one of the others to take him to the Nemeton.

It doesn't take long for Derek to almost kill every hunter, except he's hurt now, too, and even the Nemeton can't heal this new blend of wolsbane's wound.

Stiles is healed by magic, by the Nemeton, and he feels the bond with Derek weaken by the second. At once he finds himself back at the clearing of the fight, teleported, and lashes out at the remaining hunters with a fury that raises the hair on everyone.

Then he screams and begs at Derek to not fucking die and as everyone watches, manages to save the idiot with sheer belief.

Because that's who Stiles is.

And then well... I just imagine that the two of them have to provide context to their pack, which they do, and then there's gasps of awe and sorrow; of not being there and of not realizing that they were ghosts to these kids; that Laura had (and of course Peter too) suspected something was off with Derek and Stiles but not this.

(also i love to include snippets of John being equally horrified at finding the truth out and of realizing that his baby boy is essentially tied up for eternity with Derek Hale, whomst he apparently also arrested for the murder of his favorite deputy???)

#sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #the hale pack #teen wolf #sh.snippets #kind of?? lol

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inbrightshadows · 1 year ago

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*sticks one arm out from under my rock, slips this into the tag, and retreats back under my rock* Inspired by the cass apocalyptic series by somerandomdudelmao It's a very very cool rottmnt fancomic and you should give it a read 👉👈🥺 (Not canon but you might recognize some parts/dialogue from the comic) [warning for implied/referenced past infant death but no actual infant death (the boy is fine dw), infected wounds, amputation, and a dog like creature biting someone]

The first time Casey Jr almost dies he's about three months old, by their best guess, and he's only been Casey Jr for a week.

Cassandra and Raph go out on a supply run, which is normal. They come back with a baby in a box, which is not.

Fortunately or unfortunately, there's no such thing as government or paperwork in the apocalypse. So there's nothing stopping Cassandra from saying “I found him in an alley so he's my son now, his name is Cassandra Jr.” And that's that.

Thankfully, this isn't the resistance's first baby so there's plenty of formula and hand me downs to supply Cassandra in her sudden status as a Mom. And everything else the family quickly supplies.

Donnie is very uninterested in babysitting the oozy crotch goblin but Casey Jr's crib still has the genius built logo and built in laser security system to prove he cares in his own way.

Mikey breaks into his carefully rationed paint supply to paint a small mural above the crib and takes every chance to babysit he can.

And Raph? Well Raph dives headfirst into the roll of co-parent slash halway blockade.

Then there's Leo.

In his own words, he has a whole resistance to babysit. And besides that there’s not much he can really do other than what he’s already doing.

Fight the krang, stop the war, give little Casey Jr a better world to grow up in. And also avoid everyone’s efforts to get him to hold the baby.

He is not cut out for tasks that require a delicate touch but it seems like he’s the only one who understands that. He’s a gigantic mutant ninja turtle who, unlike his brothers, has never had any kind of hobby that requires any kind of delicacy. So he hangs back, he keeps an eye out for things that will be useful to the Caseys while he’s out on the surface, and he waves away attempts to hand Jr to him.

And then Casey Jr gets sick.

It should be fine. Should be normal. Babies are delicate little things, getting sick is a thing they do. Except there’s not much the way of medicine in the apocalypse. And babies are delicate.

It starts as a low grade fever. By the end of the day it’s a raging bonfire. They have a lot of things but medicine is in short supply. Nothing they have is working. It’s just Casey Jr, sobbing his heart out on Raph’s shoulder while Cassandra hovers and Raph tries to soothe all three of them.

There’s nothing Leo can do to help. They don’t have the medicine they need to treat the fever. At least not something safe to use on a baby. Raph is the one who remembers how Dad used to use lukewarm baths to break their fevers when they were little and he was still too scared to try human medicine on them. It helps enough that they can get some formula into the kid. But it’s not fixing things.

Two days pass and the fever refuses to break. The baths are becoming less and less helpful. After the third refused feeding attempt that afternoon Donnie slams down a map of ‘areas most likely to contain useful information or materials for treating a sick baby.’

Leo and Mikey gear up and head out leaving Donnie to monitor things back at base while April takes charge of running everything else so that Raph is free to help Cassandra take care of Jr.

It’s bad luck, really, that a pack of krang dogs find their camp on the first night. It should be fine. They should be able to handle it.

But bad luck is bad luck.

Leo sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He moves to dodge and the ground underneath him decides now is a perfect time to give way.

“LEO!” Mikey yells as Leo tumbles away into the dark.

Leo grunts, biting back a scream as the Krang dog’s teeth sink into his arm. They tumble into the dark together, bouncing down the stacks of rubble. It’s dead by the time he lands but the damage is done.

The good news is that the fall kept the dog from getting a good grip on him.

The bad news is that even if the bite won’t infect him with Krang regular infections are different story. Krang zombies have foul mouths.

Mikey can’t find out it managed to bite Leo. If he does he’ll want to go back and get Leo treatment before they look for the medicine.

And right now every second could mean the difference between getting medicine to Casey Jr in time or adding to their graveyard.

So Leo makes sure that by the time Mikey makes it down to him his first aid kit is a good bit lighter and any sign of the bite is hidden beneath his normal arm wraps.

When Mikey finds him Leo smiles and doesn’t hesitate to wrap both arms around his little brother.

“Are you okay- did it bite you?” Mikey asks, darting around him to hunt down every last scrape.

“Nah, just a couple of scratches,” Leo lies. “Let me heal them-” “No, we’ve got a ways to go, I won't risk you wearing yourself out too soon.” “Leo!” “I already used my first aid supplies on them! It’d be a waste if you healed me now!” Mikey glares at him but huffs and nods. “Fine! But if they start to feel bad-” “I’ll tell you, don’t worry,” Leo lies again.

Day two is a bust. There's useful supplies in the area Donnie marked out for them to search, sure, but nothing that will help Casey Jr. Or the sensation of a burn throbbing its way up Leo's hidden bite wound.

Leo and Mikey mark out where the useful things are and keep going. Someone can go back for them when they're less pressed for time.

That night Leo waits for Mikey to fall asleep before he checks the bite. It's bad.

The moment the bandages come off he's gagging at the putrid stink of infection. It's hard to see it in the dark but then again he's not sure he really wants a better look. It wouldn't change his mind anyway.

He can make out the dark veins of infection spreading. If he wasn't green it'd certainly be a violent red.

He cleans it, spreads a thin layer of disinfectant cream that will do about as much good as throwing a cup of water at a bonfire, and re-bandages it.

His usual arm wraps go up over top of it, hopefully Mikey won't notice he's done them a bit higher than normal.

All the evidence goes into the fire. By the time Mikey's turn to take watch comes all that's left is ash.

On day three Leo wakes up feeling like someone dropped a building on him. He makes the mistake of groaning about it.

“Leo? Are you okay?” Mikey asks. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine. I just, uh, I think I’m inheriting Dad’s back problems! That or the Krang made the ground harder.” Mikey snickers. “I mean, they would, but I’m also pretty sure you just called yourself old.” “I did not!” Leo drags himself upright and makes a show of cracking his back. It obliges with a satisfyingly loud pop that makes Mikey giggle harder. “I think your spine disagrees with you too.” “Shut up!” “Awwww are you feeling cranky, old man?”

Leo is too exhausted to feel properly offended or even think of forming a comeback but he plays it up for his little brother anyway.

Anything to keep him from worrying. Or forcing them to turn back. It’s fine. This shouldn’t take too much longer anyway.

It’s midday by the time they reach the second site. Just from a glance it’s obvious this is a more promising site. There are actual chunks of buildings scattered around and there’s enough of a shattered sign left lying around to tell them that whatever kind of care this place used to give it was geared specifically towards children.

There’s plenty to find digging through the rubble. Well. Plenty for Mikey to find. Leo is mostly trying not to let on how dizzy he is.

To both of their frustration, they run out of daylight before they find anything. Leo can feel his body screaming at him to lay down and rest. Just a little longer, he tells his body. They’re going to find the medicine. He can feel it. Leo just needs to make it at least that long.

The fourth day dawns. Mikey shakes him awake as soon as there’s enough light ot see by. Leo bites back a moan as he claws his way upright. Leo thought his arm hurt before but now it feels like someone is pouring lava down it.

He notes with a calmness that boarders on absurdity that he can’t feel his fingers.

Something must show on his face- or maybe he just looks at least halfway as awful as he feels- because Mikey frowns at him when he wakes up.

“I’m worried,” Leo blurts out. “If this takes much longer then- I don’t think- he’s already been sick for so long.” “We’ll find it. Today, I’m sure. I’ve got a good feeling.” Leo tries to smile for him and hopes the shaky thing he offers up is enough. Well. At least one of them is feeling good.

Leo is lucky. He’s always been lucky. Luck runs out eventually, it always does. But not today. Maybe it helps that Leo isn’t hoping for something for nothing. Because on day four they strike gold.

Mikey is a short bit away, digging through the rubble with his power, hunting for anything with even the chance of helping. Leo is doubled over just out of his site, trying to stifle his stomach’s efforts to rebel against him.

Don’t hurl, he tells himself, if you hurl there’s no way Mikey won’t realize something is wrong.

He forces his eyes open, hoping that focusing on something will help. And then Leo’s eyes fall on a shattered glass cabinet, several packs of some something promisingly adorned in cartoon human children. He reaches in, flips it, and feels a wash of relief when he realizes it’s exactly what they’re looking for.

“Mikey- Mikey look-” everything fuzzes, tumbles. There’s something under him. He blinks back blurs of color, tries to resolve them into something coherent. Mikey’s face hovers over him, mouth moving. He looks upset. “What's the matter?” he tries to ask. “Leo! Leo, are you sick? What hurts?” “Arm,” Leo answers without thinking.

Oh shit. Oh shit he’s not supposed to let Mikey know. But it’s a little late for that. At least the panic clears his head a little. Mikey makes a wounded sound in the back of his throat as he uncovers the bite.

“Leo.” “Yeah, I know. Sorry… sorry for lying.” He watches Mikey’s lip wobble until Mikey catches it in his teeth. “Leo this is bad! We- I don’t know if we have the supplies to treat this!” Leo hums. Now that the panic is fading it’s getting so much harder to think. He lifts his good hand before he can forget and flops it over towards Mikey. “S’okay. We can go back now.” Mikey takes the box of medicine with shaky fingers. “Leo,” he croaks.

Mikey is talking. Something… probably important? He looks scared but they’re not under attack. He’s pretty sure they’re not. Leo tries to focus on him anyway but it’s so hard. He’s so tired.

He’s been tired but there was no resting, not properly, not until they got what they needed. They do now so it’s fine, he can rest his eyes a bit.

Good. Seeing is hard too. Just blurs and colors.

He feels Mikey’s hand on his face, his voice in his ears. He tries to pay attention but he’s slipping, sliding away.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, but he’s out before he can think of what, specifically, he’s sorry for.

Leo doesn’t remember the trip back, just the thud of Mikey landing. Someone screaming. A hand squeezing his. Small. Thin fingers. Lots of them.

“April?” he might mumble. He thinks. “Shhh, rest big guy,” Probably-April says. “Donnie has it. He’s gonna fix it.” Oh. That’s good. He lets himself sink, lets her hold him together while he waits for Donnie to do what Donnie does best.

A light in his face. “Am I dying?” he says. Thinks? Someone hisses. Angry sound. Who does that again? “Not if I have anything to say about it. And I have a lot to say about it.” Oh. Donnie is here. That’s good. Didn’t someone say he was coming? “Now go to sleep, you don’t want to be awake for this part.” Leo doesn’t get a chance to answer, he’s already sinking again.

Leo blinks up at the ceiling of Donnie’s lab. He spends a good while just staring at it, trying to get his brain to work. His arm throbs. “Ow.”

Some several things crash and shatter and then Donnie''s face hovers into view. “How do you feel- nauseous? any pain, aches, fever? Chills?” “Uh, my arm hurts a little?”

“Which one? The one that got bit by one of the most disease ridden things in the apocalypse and then went four days without medical care or the other one?” “Hey I did some medical care!” “You did FIRST AID. You know, the thing you do to help someone before you get them ACTUAL MEDICAL CARE.”

Leo winces. There’s no arguing about that one. “Ok well, I was hoping we’d find the medicine and get back before it got too bad.” “Well. You didn’t.” “Yeah, I guess. How long was I out?” he asks. He tries to lift his arm but he can’t feel it move. He frowns. “It… barely hurts anymore. Uh. Donnie? I can’t- Um. Donnie. I can’t feel my arm.”

Donnie’s face twitches. Leo tries to turn his head to look at his arm. Donnie’s hand darts out out to stop him. Leo looks at Donnie again. Donnie looks away, grimacing and refusing to make eye contact.

“Donnie-” “Don’t look yet.” Leo tries to move his arm again but there’s still no response. No it’s not just that there isn’t a response. He can't even feel the weight of it.

He can feel his shoulder. He can feel a ring of throbbing pain a few inches above his elbow. And then it’s just… light? Like there’s nothing but air- oh. Oh. Okay then. There’s where his luck ran out. “...Huh. That’s. Hm. Let me see?” “Leo-” “Donnie. Let me see.” Reluctantly, Donnie eases back.

For a second Leo doesn’t do anything. He closes his eyes and breathes. He turns his head. He opens his eyes.

It’s gone.

Everything past his first crescent marking is gone.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep, measured, breath. Okay, he thinks. Okay. He’s a medic. He knew this was a possibility. Donnie starts eyeing him nervously.

“Did he make it?” Leo asks at last. “...Yeah he made it,” Donnie says quietly. Leo feels like he's fully breathing out for the first time since Cassandra burst into the infirmary with a sick baby in her arms. "Good. That's good." Donnie puts his hand over the end of Leo's nub, covering the scar. He stares at the floor and says nothing. Silence reigns. Leo stares up at the ceiling, letting it settle around them.

Until the door slams open and the rest of his family tumble through the door, both Caseys included.

The last knot of tension loosens from him at the sight of Casey Jr, happily wiggling in his mom’s arms as he flails his arms at Raph.

He tears his eyes away as his family gathers around him, worried and loud, and Leo only knows one way to calm them down.

“So. I’m guessing I'm the opposite of... All Right now, huh?” Cassandra covers Casey Jr's ears. Donnie leans away, inhaling sharply. “Why are you like this?“ he asks. “Because it's all I've got... Left” Raph groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Already?” “Put him back under,” April says, deadpan. “Boooo,” Mikey says, and Leo pretends he doesn’t sound two steps away from tears. “I hate you so much,” Donnie lies, a few screens manifesting around him. He taps away with the hand that isn't still covering the scar on what remains of Leo's arm while Leo laughs at his own terrible jokes.

“You no longer have a choice about getting a prosthetic. Mikey tried to say I had to ask before implanting experimental technology in your body but you know what? I’m making an executive decision. I can’t live with the puns.”

Leo starts laughing harder, so hard that it circles right back around to sobbing. He’s buried in a pile before the first sob can even fully leave him. Donnie’s eyes stay on the screen even as he shifts his hand to Leo’s shoulder and squeezes. “I’ll fix it. Don’t worry.”

Leo spends a lot of time sleeping but he’s never alone when he wakes up.

There’s Raph, showing off the balls he’s threading onto his mask tails so Casey Jr can climb them while Cassandra sits nearby, once more restitching her perpetually tearing sleeves on her shirts.

He wakes to Mikey making little fish or birds dance in the air while Casey Jr sits in his lap and reaches for them.

Or there’s April pouring over battle plans with a mug in one hand and the other wrapped around Casey Jr.

Point is there’s a lot of Casey Jr. So Leo really should be prepared to wake up with a tiny weight on his chest, healthy and safe and sound. And still so very tiny. His breath hitches, he doesn’t dare move.

“Bemused scoff.”

Leo carefully turns his head toward where Donnie is busily typing away at something.

“You know you can’t avoid holding him forever. Even I've held him." Leo gives Donnie the flattest look he can manage. Sure. Donnie has held Casey Jr. Once in a blue moon when there was literally no one else to do it (and Leo's hands were firmly tucked under his arms.) For about sixty seconds total. "...I've held him more than you have.”

Leo grimaces. “Look, I wasn’t cut out for holding delicate stuff when I had two arms. It’s an even worse idea now that I’m twice as likely to drop him.”

“Invalid excuse. I’m already working on a solution to your arm situation.” Donnie waves his hands and his ninpo sparks, building a blue print of an arm and some other thing hovering in the air between them.

“These are the schematics for a bio-mechanical arm and a socket implant to allow it to safely interface with your nero-” Leo’s brain glazes over the rest of Donnie’s explanation.

“...So you want to turn me into a kick ass cyborg?” he asks as soon as Donnie is done. “Did you listen to none of what I just said?” “C’mon, Don, I’ve got you for all the nerd stuff.” “Exasperated sigh, yes I’m turning you into a kick ass cyborg.” “Sweet,” Leo says, yawning. Donnie huffs. “Go back to sleep, Nardo.” “Can’t, baby could fall,” Leo mumbles. “I won’t let him fall. Just rest.” And Leo trusts his brother. So he does.

It takes a frustratingly long time for Leo to recover enough for the surgery to implant the port for the arm in his stump. It’s more low profile than he expected, hardly noticeable at all unless you’re looking head on at it.

Then there’s a whole other saga of learning how to use the arm Donnie has built him. It’s clunkier than Donnie’s preferred standards but it works almost as seamless as his real one. He gets good with it and he gets good with it fast because with the Krang you either do it fast or you don’t do it all.

The unintended and unwanted side effect of this is that now his family are no longer accepting “I’m not good enough with my arm I might drop him” as a valid excuse to not hold Casey Jr.

And they are very, very, intent on getting him to hold Casey Jr.

Look. Leo is thanking sweet pizza supreme in the sky and every one of the Hamato ancestors, Casey Jr bounces back from being sick like it never happened.

He bounces and wiggles, he babbles and giggles, as though less than a week or so ago he wasn’t so sick that Leo and his family (literally) risked life and limb to get him medicine. And Leo is thrilled. Really.

It’s just that he wishes his family would stop encouraging Casey Jr’s newest favorite game- trying to grab Leo. Because apparently one of any baby’s favorite thing is whatever they can’t have.

“Here! Hold him!” Mikey holds Casey out so that he faces Leo. Casey Jr, who seems to have a sixth sense for when someone is playing the 'try to get Casey close enough to touch Leo' game, is thrilled. His tiny arms wave at Leo, itty-bitty fingers clenching like they’re ready to latch on the second they’re close enough to touch him.

“W-wait, I can’t!” Leo protests for the thousandth time. But Mikey isn’t taking no for an answer this time. A nudge of mystic power keeps Leo from fleeing. All Leo can do is tuck his dangerous un-baby proofed metal arm away from tender baby skin and wave his flesh hand pleadingly.

“C’mon Leo… you have to hold him eventually.” Mikey cajoles, gently waggling Casey Jr.

“Not happening, no way.” Leo leans back as far as Mikey’s powers will let him.

“Yes way,” Mikey says, holding Casey closer and closer. Casey is giggling furiously, tiny arms flying at top speed.

“Do you even see how tiny he is?” Leo points at the baby, just in case Mikey needs a reminder. “I could break him with one finger!” There’s a tiny nudge to said finger. Leo looks down. Casey Jr is copying him, nudging Leo’s much larger finger with his own.

Mikey gets a look on his face. A terrible, evil, look.

“One finger? Like thiiiiis one?” Mikey grins as he lifts his middle fingers away from Casey Jr’s body. Leo freezes. “Mikey. Mikey no.”

“Whats that? Oh nooooo.... I can’t hear you over the sound of my grip slipping!” Mikey sing-songs. “Don’t you dare!” Leo stares at him, horrified and frozen. He won’t. Surely he won’t. Cassandra would murder him. Raph would double murder him. He wouldn't. Right? Right??? “Oh no! I hope someone catches the poor delicate baby!” And then Mikey drops Casey Jr.

Leo shrieks. He forgets that Mikey is literally magic and does not need his hands to hold a building, much less a baby.

“Mikey what the fuck!” Leo squawks, hands flying forward and closing around the tiny delicate bundle that is- … not falling towards the ground at all actually.

The gears turn, the realization that he's been tricked sets in. Leo glares at Mikey. Mikey grins, unrepentant, and waves his faintly glowing hands, a glow also present around a perfectly safe Casey Jr. The glow vanishes and Leo feels the surprisingly greater weight of the baby properly in his hands for the first time.

“Ahhhh Mikey- Mikey take him back!” Mikey stubbornly keeps his hands in the air and backs away, still grinning. “You’re fine, you’ve got this.” “I don’t have this!” in spite of saying this Leo is already tucking Casey closer to him. “It’s fiiinnne, you're doing fine! Look, he’s having a great time!”

Tiny clumsy fingers hit his jaw, drawing his eyes down. Casey Jr has one hand buried in Leo’s scarf. The other is pressed to the highest part of Leo’s face it can reach. As he looks down they stretch up, reaching for the vibrant red markings on his face.

“Ah- what- what does he want?” “Awww he likes your stripes, hold him higher!”

Hesitantly, Leo shifts the baby a little higher in his arms and Casey’s little fingers smack against his markings, clenching against them as best the pudgy little things can. Leo chuckles. “What? You want those? Hate to break it to you bud but they’re kind of attached to me.” Big dark eyes lock onto his. Casey Jr babbles. His little fingers flex against Leo’s face again.

Someone makes a noise like a slowly deflating balloon. Leo looks up to find Raph has found them. He’s standing in the doorway, his eyes shining with unshed tears.

“Please tell me Donnie has a good angle on this,” he says, voice wobbling. Raph’s com clicks on and switches itself to speaker mode. “Sending you the best shots as I speak,” says Donnie’s voice. “I hate all of you,” Leo lies. Mikey snickers at him, Raph is too busy cooing to reply. And then Casey Jr realizes Raph is there and decides he’s done being held by Leo. He leans his entire body toward Raph and puts all of his tiny baby might into wiggling free of Leo's grip.

“Oh fuck-” “Don’t cuss in front of the baby!” “Raph. Raph.” “You’re doing fine, relax-” “He’s gonna fall! I’m gonna drop him- Raph!” Raph easily scoops Casey Jr up, saving Leo from the terrifying force of a wiggly baby.

Casey Jr giggles and grabs for Raph’s mask tails while Leo dramatically flops to the floor. Mikey continues to snicker at Leo’s expense, floating over to pat his head.

“I can’t believe you pretended to drop him just to trick me into holding him,” Leo groans. “You what?” Raph’s head snaps over to them. Mikey freezes. “I had mystic hands on him the whole time!” “Baby holding is a two hand activity!” “You literally hold him with one hand!” “Raph’s hand is big enough to count as two!” “Oh that is so not fair!” “... Leo watch the little man for a minute.” Raph sets Casey Jr down by Leo’s head. Leo makes an inarticulate sound of horror but before he can protest Raph is already bolting for Mikey.

Mikey flees with a yelp. Leo looks at Casey Jr. Casey Jr looks at him. “So, you come here often?” Casey Jr stuffs his fist in his mouth and makes a garbled noise around it, almost recognizable as a very turtle like chirp. Leo checks that his brothers are out of ear shot and then chirps back. Casey Jr’s eyes widen and sparkle. He takes his damp hand out of his mouth and smacks Leo in the face with it. Leo grimaces. “Thanks.” In the distance, Mikey screams as Raph catches him but it's just as quickly followed by laughter.

Casey Junior grows up in between loss and stolen joy and forgotten childhood memories. He gets old enough to ask questions. Inevitably, the day comes when he asks “Sensei, how did you lose your arm?”

And Leo lies.

Or, well… He doesn’t lie so much as he just… leaves out some details. Details Casey Jr does not and will not ever know if Leo gets his way.

“Ah, you know… Krang dog got a lucky bite in. By the time I got back to base it was the arm or me and Donnie chose me.” He says it with a light little shrug, like it’s no big deal.

Because for Leo, it’s not a big deal. Between losing an arm and losing family he’d chose the arm over and over again.

#rottmnt #Cass apocalyptic series #rottmnt casey jr #rottmnt future leo #I did not mean for this to be so long help #ahhhh i hope this is ok and doesn't come off as weird or anything #Originally it was just going to be Leo's family tricking him into holding the baby but then I got an Idea #and then the idea got Really Really big...#my writing

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themissinghand · 1 year ago

Note

Nice to meet you🤗..If the request is still open, Can I ask for Dokja's request for lucky female readers?🥹..Where do reader have high good luck?.The reader and Kim Dokja have known each other for a long time because the reader first started a conversation with Dokja (I'm sure it's fun when Dokja introduces reader to his group😂.) It's okay if not. Just don't be stressed by the requests. I hope the requests don't bother you.. Thank you.. And may your whole day till night be good.. Bye-bye.. Don't forget to take care of yourself.🤗💕

Omniscient Reader Viewpoint Lucky Star

Summary: In which Dokja finds his lucky star.

Or, maybe he’s not that unlucky after all.

Pairing: Kim Dokja x Lucky! F! Reader

Note: Thanks for your patience! Make sure you all take care of yourselves too~

Noona: typically used by younger male to call an older female or sibling.

Warning: None.

★・・・・・・★

If there is an angel in this world, then it must be you.

You were a bright light in his life, providing salvation to him in forms of patience, encouragement, and friendship.

You were his manager at the game company he worked at. Someone who was vibrant and cheerful, who possessed an uncanny ability to turn the mundane into moments of joy.

"Dokja! Let’s go for a drink!" You would say, your infectious enthusiasm pulling him into a world where deadlines and stress would melt away.

But you also knew when to not take in bullshit.

“Hey (Y/N), why are you overreacting? Huh? Just because I didn’t do my work the one time-“

“One time? It’s been a week since you did anything. And you put it on the newbie to finish it?”

“So what? You’re a terrible manager anyway, that’s why women shouldn’t work here-“

A snap silenced him.

“Hey mother fucker, calculate your severance pay. Talk to me like that in the disputes office and see who dies first.”

Kim Dokja heard it accidentally, but from then on, his respect for you has soared above the clouds.

"Dokja, you've got this! I'll teach you the ropes.”

Dokja marveled at your ability to lead the team with outspoken confidence, patiently teaching him the ropes and offering unwavering support when the challenges of the workplace seemed overwhelming.

“Happy birthday to our newbie, Kim Dokja!”

“Merry Christmas everyone! I got some gifts!”

“Ya, let’s go out for a drink everyone! I got the holy bank card from the boss!”

The team loves you for being a beacon of light, someone who could be fun and leader-like at the same time.

Dokja couldn't help but think that you must be cherished by the heavens, as you were blessed with an extraordinary dose of luck.

Like how you would “accidentally” meet important connections and befriend them, leading to successful results in projects.

Or how you would win those in gacha games with the character that you wanted.

“Noona, if you were in a game, your luck stat would be maxed out.”

“I guess so, but isn’t that good?”

Very soon after, little did he know that your luck would soon become a lifeline when the world plunged into chaos.

When the apocalypse struck, Dokja stumbled upon the familiar face in an unlikely place – the convenience store, hastily gathering supplies with a calm demeanor that belied the impending doom. It was then that he realized the depth of her luck, a quality that extended beyond corporate success.

Like how does someone find a healing elixir in a pile of junk food in the convenience store!?

Or how does she find a ultra rare bow in a police station?

What is this unfair world!?

Dokja appreciates your help and your luck, but at the same time, he can’t help but lament on his own life.

Perhaps the luckiest thing that happened to him was dating you.

With such a thought, Kim Dokja’s lips curled up and hugged you from behind.

“What wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Does my good boy want some love?”

Although he was blushing aggressively and in public, he couldn’t help but nod.

[The Constellation ‘Demon-Like Judge of Fire’ is squealing and wishing for grandchildren]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks Incarnation ‘Kim Dokja’ play a main character of a romance comedy show]

[The Constellations have sponsored you 1000 coins]

“Get a room.”

Dokja expected the worst when Yoo Joonghyuk entered the scene, but to his surprise, your life was spared.

“She’s useful.” Says the emo sunfish as he glares at Dokja for absolutely no reason.

(Okay, there might be that one time where he returned a punch, and absolutely wrecked that protagonist…no regrets)

Dokja wants to smack him a few times in the face.

The revelation that her constellation was the Secretive Plotter added another layer of mystery to her extraordinary luck. The constellation seemed to guard her against many dangers, marking her as someone to be protected, though for some unknown reason.

Can’t say Kim Dokja has any complaints about that at all.

You must be protected at all costs.

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ thinks her lucky encounters and moments are interesting]

[The Constellation ‘Secretive Plotter’ donates 1864 coins]

Whatever it is, Kim Dokja has no complaints…scrap that, he has too many complaints since he has too many rivals!

“(Y/N), you are my lucky star right?”

“Yep! Don’t worry!” She pats him on the head and he ignores the knowing looks from others on the team.

“Hug.”

“Someone’s needy today.” Kim Dokja gave others the middle finger behind your back as he rested his head on your shoulders.

From that point on, Dokja affectionately dubbed her his "lucky star" or, as they playfully jokes, his "lucky charm."

Whether it was winning luck-based games or navigating perilous situations unscathed, your fortunate aura became a source of both amusement and comfort in the face of uncertainty.

“So, what’s it like raising a puppy as a Sugar Mommy?” Han Sooyoung asks you, who chuckles lightly.

“Han Sooyoung.” Kim Dokja twitched a brow, but calmed down a bit when you held his hand.

“He’s not a puppy, but he’s cute and bites people he doesn’t like. And he protects me well!”

“(Y/N)!” Kim Dokja blushes in embarrassment but couldn’t say anything in his stuttering mess.

Han Sooyoung raised a brow before she mimicked a barfing action.

“Damn girl, you have it hard, I respect you.” She patted your shoulder before leaving.

“Dokja, just like I’m your lucky star and charm, you are my lucky puppy. Okay?”

Looking at your puppy face, Dokja couldn’t say no.

“Fine…just don’t call me that in public…”

Kim Dokja felt a kiss in his nose, and he reciprocated the action by lacing your hands together.

“Aw, who’s a good boy?”

“Stop it…”

Your laughter is music to his ears, and while sometimes your teases make him want to hide somewhere in a hole and die from embarrassment, he loves you all the same.

“Get a room!”

“Shut up you sunfish!”

Maybe cursing at the protagonist isn’t the greatest idea.

(When has that ever stopped him?)

“I will kill you Kim Dokja!”

678 notes · View notes

deansapplepie · 1 year ago

Text

Everything with you, everything from you

Summary: Daryl and you always loved each other, neither of you acting on your feelings and him always scaring all the men that had interest on you. That is until you can’t take it anymore.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x F!Reader

Era: Commonwealth

Genre: Smut, Romance

Warnings: NSFW, smut (there’s a small plot), sex, oral (male receiving), fingering, p in v, unprotected sex (don’t do it kids), creampie, Subish Daryl, Subish Reader, Sweet Dirty Talk, Swearing, Age Gap (everybody is of age, but Daryl’s concerned somehow. Reader is on her 30s and Daryl on his 50s). 18+ Minors, please do not interact.

Word count: 5,505

A/N: English is not my first language so it may contain errors, even though I proofread it. It’s lightly implied reader is plus size, but everyone can read because it’s just small hints of it.

Masterlist

You were infuriated.

He infuriated you in the same amount he made your heart beat faster because of him.

It had been years of the damn apocalypse, years that you met him, years that your mom died and let you alone. It had been years since he became your best friend, protector and trainer. He taught you many things. He taught you how to fight, hunt and track. He also taught you about love, but he didn’t know it or he fakes he didn’t make you fall in love with him all those years ago.

It first started as a silly crush, when the world ended you were so young… you were in your first years of college when it all happened. You and your mom had become close with the Dixons at the quarry, Merle was a dick, but your mom made him respect both of you, as much as he could. Daryl… was Daryl, he was quiet and grumpy, but he was gentle and caring on his own way. Your mom’s origins wasn’t very different from the two rednecks, so she was able to understand them and where they came from, you were lucky that her and your dad could give you a better life. When the quarry was attacked by walkers and you mom got bitten and died, he was everything you had.

Still today, even with your big found family, you and him were like a package, you even shared an apartment at the Commonwealth and raised Judith and RJ together while Michonne and Rick were away. But your package… this package never included a relationship with him. You were on your 30s already, no boyfriend, no relationship and you couldn’t even blame yourself, guys did come to you and wanted to flirt with you, make plans with you… but he… he always ruined everything. He’d scare the men or make it impossible for you to go out with any of them. In the beginning, you thought it was ok, he was just worried, you were young and you were all still careful about people outside of your small circle. Then you started to think he also felt something for you and it made your heart beat fast and butterflies fly on your stomach. He never acted, he never did anything, and honestly you were tired of waiting for him, you were tired of being alone, you wanted to live just like everyone else. Have someone to hold hands, cuddle, have some physical contact and make plans for your crazy uncertain future.

You entered your shared apartment after him and knowing the kids were on a slumber party at Aaron’s, you closed the door with all the strength you had.

“Wha’ was that for?!” He stopped on his tracks and turned to you. He knew what it was for, He was just playing dumb.

“What was that for?” You sarcastically repeated his question. “Why do you have to ruin all my chances of going on a date with someone?”

“That guy’s a prick.” He leaned on the counter of the kitchen.

“Funny, ‘cause every guy that has some interest on me is a prick for you.” You took some cold water from the fridge, maybe it was going to help you calming down.

“Not my problem you’ve got a bad taste in man.” He picked an apple from the tray and started eating it nonchalantly.

You looked at him, more specifically at the back of his head that you could see from where you were at the kitchen, he felt that soon your stare was going to make a hole on his head, but he tried to fake normalcy. “Yeah, I think I really got a bad taste in man. But apparently that’s your problem since you can’t let any of them get close to me.”

“Why do you keep doing that, Daryl?” You asked, honestly, and he turned to look at you.

“Tomorrow, we have family game night. It’s important.” He said, and that was what he had just said to Jake the guy from your work that asked you to go out on Saturday.

“And I can’t miss it one week?” He was full of bullshit when he wanted to. “What about Sunday? Why did you say I couldn’t on Sunday?”

“Because… I don’t like him.” You rolled your eyes. You walked to the other side of the counter, one hand on it and the other on your waist.

“You don’t need to, I’m the one that has to like him.” You blurted out. You were tired incredibly tired of that sick silly game of his.

“I…” you didn’t let him finish.

“I don’t want to be alone, Daryl. Nobody comes close to me because of you. If you feel anything for me, grow some balls and do something about it, or stop getting on my way.”

The following seconds were a blur, in one moment you were feet apart and in the next you were being lifted to sit on the counter, Daryl between your legs and his lips crushing against yours. A hot messy hungry kiss on your lips, for a brief moment you were surprised, but then you closed your eyes and just let yourself enjoy the moment, take this once in a lifetime opportunity that you have been waiting for years. Your arms wrapped around his neck, your hands tangled and tugging on his hair. You kissed him back with the same enthusiasm and eagerness, you had dreamed about this for so long. His left hand was on your lower back and the right one was holding a handful of your thighs, your thick delicious thighs that he wanted for so long. You tugged a little harsher on his hair eliciting a groan from him, he pulled you against his body and you could feel his hard on, knowing it was all for you. He gave open mouthed kisses on your jaw and descended to your neck, making you grind yourself against him and a loud moan come from you.

And he stopped.

He simply stopped and pushed himself away from you.

“Fuck.” He said as reality hit him, or what felt like reality for him. “I shouldn’t have done this I…”

“Funny, ‘cause your hard dick says otherwise.” You said still sitting on the counter, cheeks blushed, lips plump and all the tension that had gone threatening to come back. “I’m not complaining Daryl, actually it’s the opposite. So why would it be a mistake?”

“This isn’t right. Ya’re younger than me. Shit… ya could be my daughter.” He said, hand on his forehead, the other on his face.

“Unless you fucked my mom, and I don’t know. There are zero chances of you being my dad.” You tried reasoning with him, was it what he was thinking all this time and not acting on it?

“Ya understand what I said. Ya’re way younger. I’m on my 50s and you on your 30s it’s… it’s not…”

“Right?” You asked. “Is it wrong that 2 consenting adults want each other? I’m not a kid anymore, you just said I’m on my thirties. When we met each other maybe it could have been messed up, I mean I was young and naïve, but still of age. But now? You really want to put the age gap talking on me?”

“Didn’t say ya’re a kid.” He retorted trying to not look at you since your flustered image wouldn’t help him controlling himself.

“If you don’t, it doesn’t make any sense thinking that what happened right now was a mistake.” You jumped from the counter and put yourself in front of him. “What is it? Are you attracted to me but is ashamed of me? Am I not beautiful enough? Not thin enough?”

“I ain’t this shallow, Y/N.” He looked at you, and it broke him seeing hurt and self doubt all over you. “I made a promise to your mother, before she died that night in the quarry. I promised I’d protect you…”

“And you did. I don’t need your protection anymore, you taught me how to defend myself. I don’t even need you to eat, I can hunt my own food if needed. So you’re free you from this burden, I should have never been your responsibility.” You were so angry at that moment tears on your eyes threatening to fall down, his promise should have nothing to do with it. “Well. Fuck. So here’s the thing, if you’re not taking me, acting on your feelings or whatever, Stop hindering other people to do so! I’m not gonna wait on you my whole life and be unhappy just because you’re so close minded.” The words left your mouth like the water flowing from a broken dam. You took your bag again and headed to the door.

“Where are ya going?” He asked before you could leave.

“I don’t know. Gonna decide once I leave. Don’t wait for me. I’m not coming back for game night, tell the kids I’m sorry.” You opened the door and left, no looking back.

He stayed there for a moment staring at the door, he had just let you go. He had you on his arms, just like he dreamed many times and he threw it away, he didn’t do all the things he wanted to do to you. He didn’t showed you how much you meant to him, he just pushed you away and probably lost you, not only on the ways he wanted to have you, but probably also as a friend. He was stuck, desperate and helpless, he didn’t know what to do now that you were gone.

When you left the apartment, you didn’t know where exactly you were going. Now, you had two possibilities. You could go to Carol’s she was your friend, but she was also his friend and he would want to go to her and you would lose your moment with her. So instead, you decided going to Rosita’s, they worked together, but he would not look for her to vent about everything and he knew Rosita would kick his ass if he went there looking for you, or at least you thought so. A plus was, you could also use Coco cuteness to calm and warm your heart, since your kids were not around.

When you knocked at Rosita’s door she wasn’t expecting to see you, and right when she saw you she brought you inside and put you on a tight hug. You had watery eyes and when your friend embraced you so kindly you couldn’t control the tears anymore and let them roll.

“What happened babe?” She asked sitting on the sofa with you and holding your hands. “Who hurt you? Was it Daryl? Want me to kick his ass?”

“He ruined my chances to go on a date, again. We fought at home. We kissed and…” Rosita didn’t let you finish given the new information that was something you never said before when you complained about the archer.

“Wow, slow down. What? You kissed? So why are you here crying?” She truly needed to understand, she knew there was probably more to it, but she couldn’t hold herself when you mentioned kissing.

“Yes, and it was the best kiss of my life. But it doesn’t matter, he ruined everything. When it was getting heated, he simply pushed away from me and said everything was a mistake.” You said, the angry feeling about all the happenings coming again to your mind.

“Oh, he didn’t!”

“Yes, he did. He says I’m too young for him. He’s…ridiculous!” You wanted to pull out your hair, he was making you crazy. “I hate him!”

“You don’t hun…” Rosita pulled you for another hug and you just rested your head on her shoulders.

“I… I think I’m giving up Rosi… I can’t keep losing time like that.” You had already lost so much, not that he ever made it easy for you to know other people and find someone, but maybe you should have imposed yourself many years ago and things wouldn’t have gotten so bad like now.

Daryl couldn’t stay at home. The silence there without you were deafening, he left the apartment and went to the only place he knew he could find some solace if it wasn’t with you. He knocked on the door and waited for the answer. He wasn’t expecting for this person to get the door.

“Hey, Daryl! Is everything, ok? You look terrible.” Ezekiel told the hunter while holding the door.

“I… I didn’t know ya were here. I’m sorry, dun wanna to spoil yer moment.” Daryl scratched his neck nervously.

“Nah, you’re not disturbing. Come in, Carol and I were just having dinner and talking.” The former king invited him in.

He entered the apartment and ended at the table opening his heart to Carol and Ezekiel about everything that happened. Carol listened to everything in silence, but she already knew everything she needed to know.

“You know she’s right, don’t you?” Carol said when Daryl stopped telling them everything.

“I dunno if she’s right.” He stubbornly answered.

“You’ve liked her since when? The farm? And she also liked you for a long time and you already knew that.” Carol told the obvious, but at the moment she felt like she needed to draw for the observant and smart archer.

“Since the quarry.” He mumbled.

“Ok, since the quarry. Whatever. Even earlier and you still act like you shouldn’t be together because of your 20 years difference or something.” Sincerely she thought both of you would have it sorted out a long time ago. “She’s not a little girl and you’re also not a little boy, so stop acting like one.”

“Daryl, love’s something so rare in the world we live in. You shouldn’t let some prejudice like this prevent you from being happy with the person you love.” Ezekiel spoke for the first time, he was careful with his words.

“I ruined everything already.” He took a deep breath. Damn. The way you looked at him, he felt like the biggest asshole in the world, keeping you away from happiness but also didn’t acting on both of your feelings.

“You can still do things right. You just need to quit this nonsense about age. She’s a good heart, and I know she’ll forgive you if you talk to her.” Carol felt like she needed to grab both of your hands and guide you through this like two kids, or you would stay in this cycle forever. “She forgave when you left with Merle, all the times you lied to keep her safe and I’m pretty sure she forgave you for all the years you stayed out there coming and going to look for Rick, and you ended up with Leah, you and Y/N weren’t anything other than friends, but don’t you think it hurt her while she loved and couldn’t have you? She wouldn’t be around if she didn’t forgive you.”

He didn’t say anything, he looked down and started to chew on his thumb, an old habit of his when he was anxious.

“Now, I know it will sound cliché and cheesy, but forget all this shit and follow your heart. Go find her.” She gave a small squeeze on the archer’s hand and have him an encouraging smile.

“Do you have any idea where she could be?” Ezekiel asked.

“Maybe. I hope she’s there and not going after that fucking prick.” He answered, jealous rising when he remembered your colleague asking you out earlier. “Thanks, gonna see if I find her. If not I’ll just need to wait for her.” He got up and was ready to leave.

“Go get her pookie! If you need some extra time I don’t mind taking the kids and having game night with them here.” Carol said taking Daryl to the door. “If you both don’t solve this, I’m going to kick both of your dumb asses.” She completed.

He walked on the corridors of the old building following the path he already knew by heart, whenever he’d not find you, he knew you would be there. He was nervous, it could go all kinds of wrong, but he needed to try if he still had a chance. He stopped in front of the door and took some breaths before knocking on it.

You were at Rosita’s kitchen preparing some pasta for both of you to eat when Coco started to cry and she had go look after the baby. In that specific moment you heard a knock on the door. “Can you answer it, Y/N? It’s probably Eugene or Gabe.” Rosita said already with Coco in her arms.

“Yes, of course.” You lowered the fire you were using to cook the sauce and went to the door, opening it without even looking who it was. When you opened you met the last and first person you wanted to see at the moment, damn your lovesickness for him. You were just going to shut the door right at his face, even though the house wasn’t yours, but he was faster and held the door. “What do you want? I told you to not wait for me.” You tried to sound monotone, but you were pretty sure you sounded angry.

“Ya didn’t say anything about coming after ya. I want ya, that’s what I want. I’ve always wanted ya, and I’ve been an idiot trying to deny it. We’re both adults and I was being stubborn and dumb about it. I love you and…” he stopped to catch a breath since he hadn’t breathed since he started talking. “…I’m incredibly sorry. Please forgive me, and come home with me.”

“Daryl, I love you too. You know I love you. If you go back on your words…” you started to say, your voice shaken with emotion, but was interrupted.

“I won’t. I promise.” He took your hand in his and looked at your eyes. “Let’s get home and make things right.”

“Go girlie! Grab your man!” Rosita shouted from behind and you had almost forgot she was there. Daryl had ignored it completely just now being aware of opening his heart to you in front of Rosita, and Coco.

“I’m going er… Can you just wait a minute? I’m finishing dinner for Rosi. As you can see, she’s a little busy with Coco.” You said going back to the stove and checking if the sauce was good.

While you finished the dinner for Rosita he sat on the sofa near Rosita and the baby, and they talked about something you couldn’t hear from the kitchen. You considered you must be dreaming, this moment couldn’t be real, but you just burnt your pinkie on the pan and it hurt like a bitch, so you were definitely not sleeping.

When you finished you told Rosita it was ready, you gave her a warm hug and you kissed Coco goodbye. You left the apartment with Daryl following you and soon his hand engulfed yours and you could swear you were in heaven, you felt all flustered. Daryl was no different, he was a blushing mess from his cheeks to his ears. His mouth a thin line, his lips pressed against each other trying to contain the smile that wanted to come out.

Once you got home you opened the door and entered first, you waited for Daryl to lock the door and when he turned to you… You attacked him, you crushed your lips and body against him pressing him against the door. Daryl wasn’t going to lie that he didn’t want that to happen, he wanted that a lot, but he wasn’t expecting you’d like to engage in such activities so soon. He had imagined maybe cuddling with you on sofa or bed, talking about you or making dinner together. But he wasn’t going to sign a complaint, he was more than fine with your choice for your first night as a couple.

He quickly kissed you back, his hands coming to your back sliding on it and ending on your butt which he grabbed and pulled your body against his. You gasped in surprise and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth, your hands were on his nape and on his hair tugging at it and scratching his scalp. You felt his erection against your belly and you couldn’t resist but slip your hand down his body and touch it, earning a groan from him. It was so hard and by the outline you could see it was thick too. You just couldn’t wait to feel and taste his cock, you unbuckled his belt and worked on the zipper opening his pants.

You shoved your hand inside of his pants now groping his dick with only the thin layer of his boxers separating your hand from touching it skin to skin. He threw his head back leaning on the door, groans and grunts escaping his lips.

“Do you like it Daryl?” You asked your eyes on his face registering all of his reactions on your memory.

“Yeah, a lot… ugh…” The way he was at your mercy was so delicious that you couldn’t contain yourself into teasing him.

“Are you gonna be good for me?” Your hand went up a little, your thumb holding on his waistband.

“Yeah, ‘m gonna be good. All for ya… Anything for ya…” he answered, his eyes closed his mouth agape and a little sweat on his temple.

“Good, so I’m gonna take good care of you. Ok?” You said while you pushed his boxers down with his trousers letting his dick spring free from it looking deliciously glorious. You took it in your hand, pumping it, playing with it… gods… your mouth was watering. “It’s this hard for me baby?”

“Yeah, always this hard fer ya.” He nodded, a groan escaping his lips at each different touch on him.

You got to your knees and he wasn’t expecting this, this wasn’t like he imagined your first time together to be, but again, he wasn’t complaining, he’d take everything you wanted to give him and you’d have more time to do it in all the ways you could and wanted.

You pumped his cock a little bit more and before giving it all of your attention you gave a delicate kiss on his balls. “Oh, fuck…” he hissed, goddamn how did you come so boldly like this? You licked them, your hand never stopping pumping his shaft and your eyes never living his face. Now he looked at you he wanted to watch you with the face of an angel work sinfully with your mouth. You started sucking on his balls making him moan and god, it was delicious hearing him moaning. You sucked both sides of it and just by doing it you had already a pool in your panties. Not that you wanted any other man, but after this you’d want to only suck his dick.

Your mouth left his balls and went to the base of his cock, giving open mouth kisses while your hand would wipe its head. You put both of your hands on his firm thighs and licked all along his shaft. “Damn! How can ya do it so well, angel?” He hissed, hands flattened on the door and the wall.

“You cockblocked me all those years, but at least I had some fun before the world ended.” You said before kissing the tip of his dick, just to put it in your mouth and swirl your tongue on it.

He wanted to throw a sassy remark at you, but at this point his brain couldn’t formulate anything coherent so he decided to just appreciate what you were giving him. One of his hands went to your head massaging your scalp while the other continued supporting him on the wall, it was so good that he felt like he would fall. You’d take little by little, more and more of him while you hummed on it at how it tasted deliciously like Daryl and his pre cum. You started bobbing your head up and down, going further and further, his moans and his hand on your head encouraging you to continue and when he alerted he was about to cum you slowed a bit, you wanted it on the top of your tongue, you wanted to fully taste and savor him. You touched his balls while sucking him and soon he was shooting his seed inside your mouth while he grunted and moaned your name. You swallowed every drop of it, not wasting anything.

“Tasty…” You wiped your mouth and he brought you from your knees to stand up.

His lips crashed immediately on yours, changing positions and pressing you against the wall. His taste on your lips and on your tongue making him taste himself on your mouth. He kicked his pants and boxers like he could without breaking your kiss, still wearing his boots, but now his legs were free to move. He lifted you from the floor and you got the cue to put your legs around his waist, her urged you to take your shirt off and took a moment to kiss your neck, shoulders and collar bones.

He started to walk, taking you to his room and you couldn’t care less as you took this time to kiss, nibble and suck on his neck. He threw you on his bed and took his boots off frantically, you were on your elbows observing him as he took your shoes off and threw them anywhere in the room. You observed him only using a black sweater, bare legs and his cock that you had sucked the life of a few minutes ago was already standing proudly. You licked your lips and he didn’t let it pass, having a smirk on his face.

He came back to you hovering you on the bed in between your legs, taking your lips one more time while his hand travelled down your body palming your covered bra. His hand went to your back and how he was able to open it so easily was a mystery to both of you. He massaged your breasts with both hands giving slight pinches on your erected nipples taking moans from you. His mouth came to your left breast while his hand took care of the other and his other hand descended to work on opening your jeans.

Once your pants were open he pulled them from your body taking your panties too. God, there was too many layers he needed to have you. He came back with his mouth to give the same attention to your right breast while his hand covered your wet covered pussy.

“Is this by just sucking my cock?” He took his mouth from your breast spit slipping from his mouth. “I barely played with ya.”

His fingers slipped between your folds making you whimper. “Princess, I made ya a question. Don’t ya wanna be a good girl and answer?” He watched you, observing every reaction you had. His thumb touching your clit and circling it, a cry leaving your lips.

“Yeah… it’s because of your cock.” You replied breathlessly. “It’s so delicious… ugh…” One finger slid inside your cunt.

“Are ya my good girl?” Husky voice, his finger pumping in and out of you.

“Yeah…” A second finger went inside of you. “Ugh… Dar…”

“And who d’ya belong to?” He asked finger fucking you, a lick to your neck savoring you and sweat.

“You… I’m yours…” Your hips bucked onto his fingers. He started scissoring, his thumb pressed on your clit.

“Whose pussy is this, hugh?” You were a trembling moaning mess, your cunt clenching around his fingers.

Damn. You were close. “Daryl’s! It’s yours…” His fingers going in and out of you, playing with your button till you burst out in your orgasm clenching and spasming on his fingers. His name being moaned again and again.

“Fuck. Ya’re so good fer me.” He kissed you passionately, fingers pumping you slowly, till he broke your kiss, just to have a taste of you from his fingers and slipping them in your mouth so you could suck and taste it too. “Such a good girl… what should be yer reward?”

“You know what I want… but first…” you tugged at this black sweater that he was still wearing, fuck, you wanted to feel his body against yours, skin to skin, the mix of your scents with sweat and the smell of sex.

He took out his shirt throwing it on the floor and coming back to you, looking at your eyes, his hands caressing your head scratching your scalp. “Now, tell whatcha want sunshine…”

“I want your dick, full inside of me. Please…” You pleaded your hands wandering on his chest, going down on his abdomen.

“Ya ask so nicely, I could give ya the world.” He kissed you, deeply, slowly and sensually, this time wasn’t like all the others despaired and craving for the other, it had more. It was as if this kiss could mean everything, all the years pinning for each other, all the feelings that were hidden, the lonely nights thinking about each other, the inability to be satisfied never having the other…

He aligned himself to your pussy and he pushed inside. You gasped, it had been so long… and you’ve been wanting this for so many years, that none of your fantasies or attempts to reproduce the feeling with your fingers could compare to having him inside you. He slowly bottomed out and started to move once you were comfortable. His hips trusting onto yours rhythmically and yours doing the same unable to contain your moves and the need for the man between your legs.

“Fuck, ya’re so delicious. I should’ve had give in to yer temptation earlier.” He groaned nibbling and sucking on your neck.

“Dar… ya do it so well…” Your arms around him holding on his shoulders. “Hhgmmm…”

A thought crossed his mind for a single second and he didn’t think twice. He rolled both of you so you’d be on top, his hand moved to your hips. “Ride me, I wanna see ya riding me…” you sat on top of him, he still inside of you. You looked at him and… Daryl has always been handsome but fuck… were he gorgeous right at that moment.

You moved your hips, both hands on his stomach, going up and down right on your rhythm, rolling on top of him. “You feel amazing…” You closed your eyes, throwing your head back, your hair down framing your face… in Daryl’s mind he was being fucked by a goddess., you glowed in all your glory. You felt you were close, that so familiar feeling inside of you telling you’d explode at any moment, you quickened your pace searching for your breaking point. You could feel by the way Daryl’s dick was twitching he was close too.

“Y/N… love… I need to pull out I’m…” you interrupted him, going faster by every second.

“I dun mind. I wanna everything with you, everything from you…” If he didn’t mind of course, but you didn’t had the time to say it, hearing your words were the ignition he need to erupt inside of you, filling you with his cum and bringing you to the edge as soon as you felt his warm seed inside of you. “Daryl, fuck…”

Your body collapsed on top of him, your head laying on his chest hearing to his quick heartbeat and heavy breathing, both of you calming down and relaxing on each other’s arms. He rolled you again, so now you were resting on the bed he was on top of you. He looked at you, his hand on your face admiring you.

“I love ya, I always have.” He confessed.

“I love you too.” You said teary eyes, you were so happy you weren’t able to control.

“Shush… dun cry, I’m not pushing you away ever again.” He said thumb caressing your cheek.

“I’m so happy.” You said trying to control your happy tears and failing.

He pulled out of you, your mixed fluids coming out and spreading on the bed. He took a clean humid cloth cleaning you and the bed the better he could. Then he joined you in bed again, holding you, your head on his chest, a blanket over both of you. You talked about nothing and everything, imagining how the future would be and imagining how the kids would react once they knew you were finally together.

In the middle of talking you fell asleep, while Daryl stayed awake a little more thinking on how long he deprived himself from happiness and how lucky he was that you never gave up on him, until he fell asleep. Little did he know that you also thought you were the luckiest woman for having him by your side all those years and finally being able pour your love on each other.

Final notes: Hope you guys enjoy it, it took me some time, but I’m happy with it.

Wanna be add to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #daryl dixon imagine #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon smut #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #daryl dixon x plus size reader #daryl x you #deansapplepie

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sameheart-sameblood · 2 years ago

Text

Love in the Time of Cordyceps

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: when the world ends, you promise you'll never love again. joel miller makes that rule hard to stick to

words: 7.1k

warnings: mentions of gore (pretty tame but still), swearing, sickness, angst, fluff, two dummies not realizing they love each other until one of them almost dies 🙄

a/n: this was supposed to be more angsty but then i remembered life is hard enough already. and i just want soft joel soooo here we are. also i meant to write 2k at most but boy do i love to ramble

read on ao3!

After the world goes to hell, you promise yourself you’ll never love again. A person, an animal, a place, nothing. Only a fool would choose to make themselves that vulnerable, needing every fiber of your being one hundred percent devoted to your survival and nothing more.

Was a life without love worth living? Every time that question enters your mind, you swat it aside. It’s like a nagging fly that buzzes around you until your persistence finally drives it away completely. Of course you could live without love. You’d been doing it just fine these past fifteen years.

Living without attachment proves useful in the new world you find yourself in. It makes the countless people you lose along the way easier to move on from. In the early days, your heart still twinges as the people around you drop like flies. Most fall victim to the bites of clickers, some to raiders’ gun, a few by their own hand.

The first group you had travel with is filled with Midwesterners who see the terrors of the new world and still somehow have a smile and a joke for you. Their joviality can’t save them, though. Clickers swarm you one rainy night two years after the fall of civilization. The sight of Gail, a woman who reminds you of your grandmother, having her stomach ripped out by an especially voracious clicker cures you of your need for any connections to the living.

Over the years, you make your way to the East Coast. Smiles, defiant in the face of adversity are replaced by permanent grimaces etched into the faces of everyone you meet. It seems as though every survivor has lost the ability for happiness of any kind. Good, you think, they’re finally learning. You wonder what took them so long.

Tales of peace the Canadian wilderness has to offer reaches your ears. In your heart you know it is most likely a tall tale spread by desperate survivors. But the good thing about a zombie apocalypse is you now have nothing but time on your hands. Working your way north, if all goes well, you’ll reach Saint John by May, continue to Port Elgin and then decide if you’d try for Prince Edward Island or turn east to Nova Scotia.

Plans are made to be broken, though, and yours, along with your ankle, break clean through one day as you make your way through Boston. It would have been over for you if not for the two survivors that find you nursing your injury in a department store that will most likely be swarming with clickers by nightfall.

The woman, after she puts her gun away, introduces herself as Tess. The man doesn’t offer his name, preferring to keep the barrel of his shotgun pointed at you. As they argue quietly over what to do with you, you observe their faces. Both are etched hard with years of loss and worry. Even harder than your joyless face. It’s impressive albeit in a sad kind of way.

Tess had somehow persuades the man to help you back to the Boston QZ. Joel. You hear her call him Joel. “Fine,” he had grumbles as he places your arm over his shoulder for support, “but if she scans red, I will not hesitate to put her down.” Oddly enough his threat somehow makes you almost like him. You sense a kindred spirit. Another follower of the “no love, no attachment” way of life.

You do not, in fact, scan red and are allowed to enter the QZ. An apartment is assigned to you, a crappy little studio with faded lime green paint. The old you would have adored it, called it quirky and planned out how best to decorate it with your meager funds. The new you just appreciates a safe place to sleep.

After your ankle heals, Tess invites you to join her smuggling scheme. Thoughts of Canada flee your mind for the time-being and you gladly welcome something to keep yourself occupied.

“But what about the cowboy?” you ask.

“Joel? What about him?”

Your eyebrows arch, “He threatened to shoot me.”

“Only if you were infected. Just don’t get infected.” She says it like you’re discussing the weather.

Joel allows you into the group begrudgingly, probably because he thinks they can use you as bait or a distraction if needed. Fine. Let them label you bait. You’ve been called worse before.

The first few months working together are tense. Joel reprimands you for the smallest mistakes and warns Tess you’ll get them all killed. At first, you bite your tongue, reminding yourself of the part he had in saving you. But one night after he scolds you for the millionth time about not checking your blind spots for clickers, you snap. “Fuck off, Joel! I survived the clickers for fifteen years. I think I know what I’m fucking doing!.”

He holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off with a hurt pout like he wasn’t the one who was just being the asshole. You wonder why your victory leaves you feeling hollow.

After that, Joel keeps his mouth shut around you. No nagging, no “helpful” tips. Just the bare minimum of whatever he needs to convey. You’ll never admit that it hurts. You don’t have to, though. Tess, at the end of her rope, explodes one night as the three of you eat dinner in awkward silence. “Couple of fuckin’ babies I’m working with,” she seethes. “If you don’t grow up I’m finding a new crew.”

It’s decided that you and Joel will do the next supply run to Bill’s. Alone. No Tess there to act as buffer between you and him. Joel grunts at that but doesn’t argue, always deferring to your leader. The trip to Bill’s goes as well as you can ask. There are no arguments between the two of you at least. You’re sure you even see Joel crack a smile. Of course it’s when you clumsily tripped over a raised tree root…But hey, progress is progress.

With the supplies in tow and Frank’s compound behind you, you actually think this trip might be a success. A gang of raiders lying in wait to sabotage you dashes your hopes of that. They had seen the two of you lugging your supplies and thought it would be an easy win. At first, they are correct. They outnumber you and Joel in size and wickedness. The four of them aren’t content to kill you outright. They tie you up and discuss what to do with you next.

Of course their attention quickly falls on you. The man with an ugly gash across his face leers at you. “Maybe we should keep her around awhile. She looks like fun.” Try as you might to act tough, that sends the blood rushing through your ears.

You almost don’t hear Joel snarl at them. “You lay one finger on her and it’ll be the last thing you ever do.” The venom in his voice snaps you back to reality. While their attention is on him, you discreetly start ripping at your bonds with the little pocket knife you thankfully decided to stow in your back pocket.

They beat Joel senseless by the time you get free. You honestly think you’re too late as you stab the goon nearest to you in the thigh, by some miracle hitting his femoral artery. The others turn to you, blindsided as you go wild at the sight of your bloodied and broken companion. Gash-Face comes roaring at you, all brawn no brains. The look of surprise as you lodge the knife in his neck makes you smile with sickening glee.

The remaining two corner you, murder in their eyes. Your gun is just beyond them, taunting you to come retrieve it. The only “weapon” you have is the belt you’re wearing, it’s clasp heavy and silver. You undo it and swing it at the nearest man. He grabs it, cackling victoriously as he uses it to pull you closer. In their grasp, you become the target of their blows. You curl into the fetal position, angry that after all the near death experiences you’ve had, this will be the way you go out.

A shot rings out, then another. Two thuds on the ground next to you make you open your already swollen eyes. As you look up, you realize your savior is Joel. Back from the dead. His face is covered in blood, like some kind of ghoul. But in that moment, you have never seen someone look more like an angel. The two of you limp back to the QZ where Tess nurses you as she simultaneously curses the deceased thugs.

Joel corners you in the bathroom the next day as you study your bruised face. “You could have run,” he hisses at you, making you jump. You don’t know what he wants so you just shrug. He invades your space, making you back against the counter. “Why didn’t you run?” His voice has gone low, anger simmering just beneath the surface.

Faces inches from each other, all you can muster is a weak, “We’re a team. I wasn’t going to leave you.”

Several emotions flicker across his face in quick succession. Anger, fear, worry and something you can’t quite put your finger on. Pride? Maybe that was you projecting but you hope you were right. Joel studies you for a moment longer, then reiterates, “Next time, you run.”

******

After that, things change. Joel is still a man of few words but the ones he does grace you with are softer and more intentional. Instead of berating you for the knowledge and skills you lack, he takes them time to teach you. He shows you how to identify fake ration cards and to spot the kind of guard you can bribe. Nights are spent with you following behind him like a shadow as he shows you all the secret ways in and out of the QZ. When your hands shake during target practice, he places his calloused ones over yours. It steadies your hands but frays your nerves, threatening to awake a feeling long thought dormant.

It goes both ways. Joel lacks attention to detail in certain situations and you show him how to read people and ascertain their flaws that can be exploited. During your runs you point out the flora that can be consumed safely or used as medicine. At Flynn’s, the only bar in the QZ, you teach him how to play pool. An essential to survival? No. But it sure helps you win a huge stash of ration cards from your fellows survivors. It also gives you an excuse to sidle up behind him and mold your body around his, all in the name of helping him get the “proper pool stance.”

Your excuses to fleetingly touch one another became more and more common. They are all perfectly innocent but carry the weight of something elicit, at least to you. Joel is never one to give away his innermost thoughts, happy to wear a permanent poker face. For all you know he couldn’t care less about you. Maybe he just knows keeping you alive is good for business and that’s why he takes a particular interest in making sure you’re safe. Whatever the reason, you hope he never stops.

******

During one supply run, a torrential thunderstorm forces you to spend the night at Bill and Frank’s. You know it makes Joel nervous to be indebted to anyone for such hospitality but you can’t hide your glee. A night there means a cozy bed and a hot shower, something hard to find in your home where the water runs tepid at best.

Afterwards spending way too long in the bathroom, you curl up in your bed, toasty and content, only to find sleep won’t not come. Your hosts are dear to you, even the grumpy Bill, but their snoring through the wall you share makes hopes for a deep sleep impossible.

After an hour of tossing and turning, you decide to go make your bed on the couch. As you tiptoe down the stairs you run into Joel, on his way up . “Going somewhere?” he drawls, exhaustion making his voice deeper than usual. You shrug, “Couldn’t sleep. There are two buzzsaws in the room next door.”

Joel chuckles, “I’ve had that room before. Can’t say it was the best night of sleep I’ve ever had.” You lived for these little snippets into Joel’s life before you came around, always eager to hear more. But the trek to the house through never-ending sleet and over the turbulent river left you more tired than you had felt in years. Right now all you want is to get where you could pass out immediately. “I’m just gonna make camp on the couch,” you say, stifling a yawn.

Joel shakes his head. “You take my room. The couch is good enough for me.” This man. Hadn’t anyone told him chivalry is dead. You sigh tiredly and beckon for him to come back up the stairs with you. “It’s a big bed. We can share.” There is silence behind you where there should have been footsteps. Joel’s smile disappears as his forehead creases in thought. “Please,” you pout, “I can’t sleep in my room and I won’t get any rest knowing you’re crammed on that dainty little loveseat.”

It takes far more coaxing than it should but finally Joel gives you a little nod and follows you into his - your - room. You gesture to the bed, “Care which side you get?” Joel thinks, then shrugs. “Left is good.” You flop onto the right side, eyes immediately drooping shut. Once again, there is no movement from your companion. Without opening your eyes, you chide him, “If you’re gonna be weird and watch me sleep all night then you can go sleep on the couch.” That got him moving again.

The sound of the shower turning on lulls you to a sleep that is disturbed only when you feel the dip of the bed several minutes later. You watch through barely opened eyes as Joel does a strange shimmy under the covers. It’s clear he’s trying his best not to wake you. The sight makes you laugh softly and his head whips to you.

“Thought you were asleep,” he murmurs.

You hum, “I was. You woke me up.”

It’s meant to be a joke but Joel grimaces. “Sorry.”

The sight is sweet and your heart flips, his frown making him look almost boyish. “It’s ok. It’s your bed.”

As you burrow into your cocoon of blankets, Joel props himself up, a pillow behind his back. He looks from you to the bedside lamp and back again. “You mind if I read for a few minutes?”

That surprises you. In all your time together you had rarely seen Joel do something just for the pleasure of it. There was usually no time. But Bill and Frank’s is a sanctuary and even the hyper-vigilant Joel Miller is able to slow down here. You nod enthusiastically, perking up. “What are you reading?”

It’s like you had asked him what his darkest secret was. He reddens, then finally grabs a book from the table. Pride and Prejudice. He stammers, “It’s just…I never had a lot of time for reading before and this was a favorite of…it was a favorite of somebody I knew.”

“You can read out loud to me if you want,” you offer with a grin. Honestly it was half in jest and half a serious hope. It had been decades since anyone had read aloud to you. Joel, always thinking you were making some sort of fun of him, smirks sarcastically. “Not a chance.”

Your glower slowly melts away at the sight of him putting on his reading glasses and settling in. Silently you curse as you feel your hardened heart crack just the tiniest bit. Idiot that you are, you try to talk yourself out of your own feelings. You aren’t attached to Joel. How could you be? He’s just a handsome, rugged man who keeps you safe and reads Jane Austen in his spare time. Maybe some lesser fool would fall for him but not you. No, sir.

The next morning, you find yourself curled into him, chest pressed against his back and arm draped over his side. Like a bomb diffuser, you carefully try to extricate yourself from the position, every movement slow and precise. Joel, still asleep, lazily grabs your hand, keeping your arm around him. He sighs contentedly as you settle back down and you swear under your breath, nestling your head at the crook of his neck. You are so that lesser fool.

******

The thunderstorms of summer give way to the pleasant days of autumn. Those good days don’t seem to last long enough. You should have appreciated them more while they were there but so is the way of being human.

Winter in Boston isn’t fun. Ok that’s an understatement. It makes you long for the soul-sucking, never-ending Midwestern winters you had lived through for most of your life. There is something about being next to the ocean that makes everything feel colder.

The nights are especially hard, the wind seeping through the cracks in the walls of your apartment. No matter how many blankets you tuck around yourself, your body never truly feels warm. Runs to Bill’s or anywhere outside the QZ become less frequent and more difficult. Only those deemed truly necessary are attempted and even then there is always a long discussion beforehand weighing out the pros and cons.

Runs between the months of November and January are too risky and after much debate, it is decided you three would lay low in the relative safety of the QZ. In the meantime, you’d assess your stockpile, make connections over the radio and wait for the spring thaw. With less food smuggled in from the outside, you decide to put your energy into earning ration cards. Even though no one could argue you don’t pull your weight in the group, you often feel like the weak link. Making sure Tess and Joel have a hot meal every night is the least you could do.

Joel had always told you to stay away from sewer work. It paid double what the other jobs did but at a high risk. Besides not being able to wash the stink off for days, the tunnels under the city were treacherous. Many had gone down there only to be blindsided by a stray clicker or jumped by a loner who made their home away from society up above. Some just got lost in the labyrinth, never to be heard from again. Or at least you had been told. You hoped those were just myths.

You and three other desperate souls are sent down to the sewers with the task of clearing the rubble from a recent cave in. A hard day’s work definitely but you were optimistic that you could get it done in a few hours time and be on your way.

The first few hours go well, the biggest pieces of the concrete being cleared easily enough. Your back aches and callouses quickly form on your palms. But still, all of that you can deal with, mollifying yourself with the thought of the stack of ration cards you’ll proudly gift to Joel and Tess.

Maybe if you hadn’t been daydreaming you would have heard the shouts of your fellow volunteers sooner. Finally coming back to reality, you move just in time to avoid another piece of falling rock. You save yourself from being crushed but lose your footing, coming down hard on your shin.

A stream of bright blood instantly trickles from the gash and you swear as you try to keep the tears that spring to your eyes at bay. Wanting to prove yourself, you brush off your group’s insistence that you go get it checked by the doctor. It doesn’t matter if you complete ninety percent of your shift. You still don’t get your payment if you leave early. So you suck it up for another hour, slogging through the muck as you finish the job. It’s fine, you tell yourself, it’s just a scratch. You’ll wash it off when I get home and be good as new.

With the job done and ration cards tucked away in your pocket, you hobble back towards your apartment. The thought of a shower, as lukewarm as it will be, is the only thing keeping you upright. That is until you feel someone putting your arm around their shoulder. Joel helps you the few blocks to your house, his icy silence hurting you more than the cut that now throbs with every jostle.

It’s only after you get inside and are deposited on the couch that Joel speaks. He rolls up the leg of your jeans, cursing as he sees the already festering wound. “I told you to stay out of the sewers.”

You suck in a pained breath as he starts wiping away the dirt. “I’m fine. It’s just a little cut. Besides, it was worth it,” you pull out the stack of ration cards and present them to him proudly. The sight gives him pause. But the look on his face isn’t one of gratitude, it’s worried exasperation. His signature grimace returns, “It’s not worth it if you lose your leg.” And people claim you’re dramatic.

Pushing him away with a shoo, you rise, limping to the bathroom. “I just need a shower. Then I’ll be right as rain.” As you peel off your now ruined clothes, Joel hovers on the other side of the door. “I can hear you pacing,” you call over the sound of the warming shower.

Even through the almost closed door you can hear Joel sigh. “I just think we should take you to the doc. Make sure you’re alright.” The water hitting you makes you audibly moan, the filth on your body washing down the drain and with it, the memory of the hard day. You appreciate the concern but all you want to do know is forget about the day. You call out to a still pacing Joel, “I’m fine. You worry too much!”

******

It turns out Joel worries the right amount. Of course he does. As eager as you are to forget about your day, it’s not long before you can’t ignore your leg. The wound is an angry red and the area around it has swollen, leaving it tender and throbbing. Thankfully you have Joel there to dress it because, honestly, you can’t stomach the sight of it. These past years have been filled with much blood and gore at your own hands. But there’s something different when it’s your own blood.

In any other circumstance you would have reveled in the feeling of Joel holding your leg so tenderly, his fingers brushing against your skin as he wraps the bandage around you. It would have driven you insane seeing him crouched in between your legs as he is now. But at the moment all you can think about is how you much pain you’re in.

You try not to show your discomfort, but your poker face is nonexistent. Joel’s eyes flick up to yours as you slowly exhale, trying to keep calm. Avoidance has always been one of your favorite tactics when dealing with uncomfortable situations so you pipe up, overly perkily, “See? All better. Now about those ration cards, I was thinking for dinner-“

Joel rolls his eyes, standing with a groan, his knees audibly cracking. “The only thing you’re gonna do tonight is rest.”

You slowly turn your body to prop your leg up on a pillow as he watches. Pouting has never worked on Joel but you figure it never hurts to try. “I still have to eat,” you mope.

“You will. I’ll open a can of soup or something.”

The disappointment is real and bubbles to the surface quicker than you realized it would. “I just wanted us all to have a nice dinner. You and Tess do so much and I feel like…” Thinking how you feel is different from saying it out loud and you have to psych yourself up. Joel’s softening gaze helps you continue. “I feel like I’m useless. I just thought this was one thing I could do to really contribute.”

The silence between you feels heavy as you avoid his stare. Finally, he speaks, confusion contorting his features, “Of course you contribute. We wouldn’t have kept you around if you hadn’t.” It’s meant to make you feel better but it doesn’t, especially in your current laid up state.

“So are you going to get rid of me if I’m no longer useful?” you gesture at your leg, feeling your eyes beginning to sting with tears.

Joel sits down next to you. Your fear has made you defiant and you meet his gaze, wanting to fight. But Joel speaks in a soft, level voice, as if teaching a child a lesson. “First of all, you’re going to get better. You just need to be patient. Second, you’re thinking there’s only one kind of way to be useful.”

“I can’t shoot like you two can. I can’t fight. I can’t threaten people into getting what I want. I can go on runs and earn ration cards. That’s it. I’m too soft for anything actually important.”

Joel frowns, “You say that like it’s a bad thing. ‘Being soft’ in a world like this is an act of defiance. It’s brave as hell. What you consider important? I don’t want that for you.”

Warmth spreads through your chest as you observe him. He’s trying so hard to find his next words, to make you believe his truth. “Me and Tess, we let the world harden us more than it needed to. It was easier that way. But having you around reminds us there’s still innocence and good out there.”

The angry tears have turned to ones of gratitude. The sentiment is too much for you, unused to such vulnerability from Joel. You give him a small smile and he returns it, leaning over to wipe a tear off your cheek. “You’re useful just being you.”

While you still wish you matched Joel and Tess’ levels of badassery, the conversation helps ease your mind. You might not think much of your survival skills but you remind yourself that you’ve stayed alive in a world that wants you dead. Fifteen years you’ve been fighting and surviving and that’s nothing to look down on.

“And for what it’s worth, “ he adds, “you scared the hell out of me the first time we met.”

You grin at him, shocked, “Really?”

He nods, smirking cheekily, “Really. Still do sometimes.”

******

Joel heats up a can of tomato soup for you to share. You try not to think of how old it must be as he prepares it. But actually, it’s not bad, the taste reminding you of your childhood.

It also helps that you’re sharing it with someone you care about. A part of you hates that how easily you’ve let him into your heart. The one thing you swore off all those years ago is now all you can think about as you watch him sitting across from you, ladling out the steaming liquid.

He catches you staring and breaks the silence, “Were you even going to tell me you got hurt today if I hadn’t run into you.” The fuzziness of your feelings for him makes your brain a little mushy and instead of having a grownup conversation, you reply with a childish, “No, I thought I’d let it be a soup-rise.”

Joel rolls his eyes in mock annoyance. You chuckle and continue eating your rapidly cooling dinner. You sober up a bit and add, “The extra ration cards will be good, though. Right?”

He nods, “Yeah. I think it’s soup-er.” His eyes flick up to yours as they crinkle, the only sign that he finds himself amusing.

After dinner, Joel excuses himself to go work his overnight shift. When he leaves and you’re left along, the throbbing in your leg returns with a vengeance along with a mild fever. Your usually chilly apartment now feels stuffy and you have to remove all of your layers except your t-shirt to be even somewhat comfortable.

Worry creeps in as you sit there, alone and increasingly unwell. You long for the company of Joel or Tess, anyone to reassure you that you’re fine. But you’re alone and the dark thoughts creep in, whispering in your ear that whatever is brewing is not good. Unsure of what else to do, you slip in to bed, hoping that whatever this is will be better by morning.

******

You don’t wake for two days. Or at least, you have no real memory of the past 48 hours. Later, when the worst is over, Joel will tell you the details of that lapse in your memory. He’ll recount how you faded in and out of consciousness, sometimes submitting to your fever for so long that he wasn’t sure you were coming back. His voice will waver as he remembers how bad it got and how fragile you looked…

But for now, he stays by your side, foregoing his own health to make sure you stay alive. The first thing you remember is waking up to the sounds of Joel and Tess arguing in hushed tones.

“We need to get her to a doctor. Now.” Joel’s voice sounds strained, like he’s trying desperately not to lose it.

Tess still maintains her signature composure. “We can’t, Joel. It’s too late for that.”

Joel must make some kind of face because Tess sighs and re-words. “It’s too late to take her in because if we bring her to the hospital all they’ll focus on is her fever. They’ve put people down for way less. You know that.”

In your addled state, you wonder who they’re talking about. Your throat hurts to much to speak up though and ask.

“The doc will give us the meds. We’ve bribed him before.”

Tess shakes her head, “Antibiotics are on lockdown. Shipments have been delayed because of the weather. No one gets any without FEDRA knowing. Breaking in guarantees we get caught. We’re no good to her dead. ”

Joel scoffs, “So what do you suggest we do?”

“She rides it out.”

“She’s been ‘riding it out’ for two days. Look at her,” Joel’s voice gets closer as he peers down at you, “she’s fighting but she’s losing.”

Oh. Fever may have taken hold of you, making your brain fuzzy and concentration near impossible, but you understand now that you are the subject of their argument. For Joel to sound so forlorn you must look bad.

If you’re dead soon, you want to let them know to leave it and just let you slip away. Your well-being means nothing if it puts them in unnecessary danger. Rule be damned, they’re your family now and you care about them. If you’re being honest, you’ve cared about them since you met them. It breaks your heart thinking you won’t be able to tell them that now. It nearly kills you right then and there to know you won’t get the chance to tell Joel you love him…

Opening your mouth to articulate all of that takes great effort and when you do try and speak, all that comes out is a strangled groan. The two rush over, Tess sitting down beside you. She takes your hand, an uncharacteristic show of tenderness. Yep, you’re dying.

“You’re ok, kid,” she whispers, “you just have to hang in there.” It would be easy to ignore reality and blindly trust her. But you’ve always been stubborn and so you shake your head and continue trying to speak. Again, nothing comes out but garbled nonsense as you writhe around trying to make your limbs do what your brain wants.

You must look a sight because Joel lets his anger overflow. “Maybe you can sit here and watch her die, but I can’t.”Heavy footsteps and Tess yelling are all that you can focus on as you fade back into oblivion.

******

Living is hard and unconsciousness is addicting. Peaceful and cozy are feelings you can scarcely remember having. It would be easy to stay in that enveloping darkness but the feeling of the back of someone’s hand on your clammy forehead pulls you back to the realm of the living. You grumble weakly as you’re made to come to.

Everything is painful. Stabbing jolts of electricity radiate up your leg from the cut. Your chest is tight, making breathing troublesome and your eyes can barely stand the dim, watery sun coming through the shades of the window. Someone places a damp cloth on your forehead to keep the fever at bay. Still out of it, you try and swat it away.

A gentle hand grabs yours, shushing you. “It’s alright. It’s only me.”

Joel. Maybe you have died and this is heaven. The man you love by your side, nursing you so tenderly. It’s more than you could have ever hoped for. This might be the afterlife believers talk about if only you weren’t in so much pain. The neurons in your brain begin firing more rapidly as your fever dies down. They remind you that you and Joel aren’t lovers. Your cowardice, disguised as intelligence, has kept you from telling him how you feel.

“What’s happening?” Your voice comes out croaky and soft but at least it’s intelligible. The bed dips as Joel moves closer to you. As you peer up through barely opened eyelids you can see him leaning over you. His tired eyes look down at you as he caresses your hair.

“You got real sick, honey. That cut you got festered and turned into a fever. We thought we were gonna lose you.” The slight falter in his voice makes your already tight chest contract.

“How long was I out?”

“Three days. We got you some meds, though. You’re gonna be ok.” He says it firmly, which does some good in easing your worry.

Trying to open your eyes a bit more you continue your questioning, “Where did you get the antibiotics from?”

Joel hesitates, “Bill and Frank had some.”

You try and sit up, angry that he made that trip and put himself in danger. Even now, you can see the snow whipping around outside your window. Knowing he made the trek there and back through that storm makes you curse. Joel tuts and puts a gentle hand to your chest, keeping you down and resting.

“It’s done. No use getting angry about it now.”

You glare up at him even though you’re really just upset with yourself. “Why would you do something so stupid?”

His smiles peacefully down at you, exhausted but eyes bright. “We’re a team, remember?”

It’s too much for you to handle. You cover your face just in time to hide the angry, relieved and grateful tears that spring to your eyes. Silent sobs wrack your frame, making you seize with pain.

Joel pulls you into him, shushing you as he resumes stroking your hair. You hide your face in his side, trying to regain your composure. Crying shouldn’t be something you feel the need to earn. But you’re all sorts of broken, so you take this rare opportunity to not judge yourself and weep with abandon. You almost died, for Christ’s sake. Surely that warrants some show of emotion.

After a few minutes, the tears stop and your breathing calms. Peeking up, you see Joel has his eyes closed. His face is the most serene you’ve seen it in ages, most of the worry lines softened. There’s still a few that refuse to relax, though. The crease in between his eyebrows remains stubbornly indented. You gaze up at him as he continues to run soothing patterns along your back.

Feeling the weight of your stare, he opens his eyes. Coward that you are, you glance away. “Thank you,”is all you can mumble out as he gazes at you. After a moment, you add a shy, “I would do the same for you. You know that, right?”

Joel pulls you gently into him, almost to remind himself you’re still here with him and that the danger has passed. He nuzzles into your hair, murmuring an affectionate“I know, honey. I know.”

******

After a few more hours and another dose of antibiotics, you begin to feel more like yourself. Joel still won’t let you get out of bed yet, except for a trip to the bathroom for a quick shower. Even though you’ve been dead to the world for much of your ordeal, you’re quickly getting bored with bed rest. But you’ve learned long ago that resistance is futile with Joel. So you shower like a good patient, scowling as the water hits your scabbing cut.

Once you finish, Joel hops in and washes the grime and worry of the past three days off. As you settle back in bed, you can hear him singing softly to himself. Through the patter of the water you can hear his soft rendition of Fleetwood Mac’s Songbird. It’s one of your favorites, too, and you hum along as you settle back into your pillow.

After a few minutes, sleep still won’t come. You toss and turn as Joel finishes getting ready for bed. He comes in to find you still awake. “I thought I told you to get some sleep.” He says it like a loving mother gently scolding their rebellious child.

You flail as you try and get comfortable. You shoot back a moody, “But I’m just not tired.” Joel chuckles as he sits down into the arm chair next to your bed. He smooths back his wet hair and gives you a faux stern look. “Your body’s been through a lot. You need rest.”

“What are you doing?” you ask.

Joel looks confused, wondering what he did wrong. “Sorry I just thought I’d sleep here tonight in case you need anything. I can leave, though.”

“No!” you yell out, completely abandoning any hope of looking cool. You give him an apologetic smile, “I want you to stay but you’re not sleeping in that chair one more night.”

Joel glances to the spot on the bed beside you, then looks to you for confirmation. He sighs, a smile playing at his lips. “If I stay will you promise to go to sleep?”

You nod very seriously. “Of course.”

Joel grins, knowing you too well to believe you. “Liar,” he chuckles but still gets up and makes his way to the other side of the bed. You pull back the blankets so can get in, then cover him up. Settling on your side, you watch as he suddenly looks lost, unsure of what to do now. It’s cute, this powerful man rendered helpless by something as innocuous as sharing a bed.

You can’t help but laugh at him and he looks down at you, eyes wide. Taking pity on him, you make a suggestion. “If you’re not tired you could read to me.” Joel opens his mouth to refuse but you blurt out a quick, “I did almost die, you know.” He glares at you but his lip quirks up. He grabs the book from the other room then flops back down in bed, opening to a spot in the middle.

Frowning, you reach out to touch Joel’s arm. “Do you mind starting from the beginning?” He rolls his eyes but flips back to the first page. You grin triumphantly as you settle into his side. Joel places his arm around your shoulder as he begins to read. “It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a single man in possession of a good fortune, must be in want of a wife…”

His southern drawl mixed with the Romantic Era style of writing makes for an amusing but pleasant combination. After a few chapters, your eyes get heavy and Joel feels you nodding off against him. Jane has just been invited to Netherfield Park but even that can’t keep you awake. Joel puts the bookmark in to save your spot and places the novel on your bedside table.

You grumble in weak protest as he tucks you in and turns off the light. “We can keep reading tomorrow. But right now you’re going to sleep.” Joel lies down beside you and with the pale light of the moon through your curtains you can see him studying you. He caresses your face and you close your eyes, delighting in the sensation.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he whispers.

You force your eyes open, needing him to see the truth of it when you pledge a soft,“I won’t. I mean it.”

Joel nods gratefully and you reach out for him. He slides into your arms and you rest your chin on the top of his head. He’s watched over you for long enough. It’s your turn to take care of him and reassure him that, in this moment, you both are safe.

For most, an outright admission of affection is needed to understand how you feel about the other person. But you and Joel are cut from the same cloth, stubborn and slow to reveal your feelings. In this world, for people like you, ’I love yous’ are rare and replaced with actions and deeds.

You realize that even though you've never told Joel that you love him, you’ve shown it. Joel has been showing you all this time too and you were just too dull to realize it. While you know you’ll long to say the words to him soon, for now it’s enough to have him in your arms.

Joel’s breathing deepens and you feel him completely give himself over to sleep. Looking at his face bathed in the moonlight he looks like a new man. His edges soften and his vulnerability brims to the surface. It tugs at your heart and you understand how rare of a sight this is for Joel to allow anyone to see.

Smiling sleepily, you close your eyes and nestle into him. This feeling coursing through you is something foreign but familiar, an old friend you thought you had said your final goodbye to long ago. The love you have for Joel will leave you vulnerable. But it’s a price you’re willing to pay a thousand times over.

******

#im on a mission to make joel as soft as possible lol #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #pedro pascal #allie writes

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desertduality · 1 year ago

Text

HELLO soo I was inspired by the most recent secret life episode to write some tcd angst set in secret life <33 Enjoy :D

Link to Ao3 if you prefer to read there

———----

Scar, despite all odds against him, does hold his own for a little while. Gem is after him, bloodthirsty and intent, for reasons that Scar doesn’t know. She traps his base, she shoots at him, stabs at him — and he survives it all, up until he doesn’t. There are four of them by then, and they hunt him down and pick him off. And he dies.

These games are fun, is the thing. They get together and they make silly little groups with playful rivalry’s and eventually someone wins. It’s fun. Scar has fun, usually.

None of them know about the world he came from. That lonely, ravaged, barren world. The zombies had been everywhere, fast and stubborn. Scar had been young and hurt and alone, and had learned to run on broken legs before he learned how to read.

It’s been a long time ago, now. The memories sneak up on him far less often than they used to, and he’s better. This though, this thing with Gem and the others, it’s hitting him in places that still hurt; places that will always hurt.

Scar is fresh off his first death, still reeling from being hunted down, and Cleo and Grian are telling him he can’t stay.

“You’re not one of us,” Grian says, and they’re just playing a game, but Scar is confused. He’d been invited, hadn’t he? But then Cleo had taken it back.

“Scar!” Bdubs is a distance behind him, sitting atop a horse and calling his name urgently. “Scar, we need to talk to you.”

Scar goes, and hears whispering behind him, something about zombies and spreading. It makes a bit of nerves flare up in his stomach, but he ignores them. He is far enough removed from the past that hearing the word won’t send him into hysterics. He’s even recovered enough that he can handle the sight of a few zombies, even if his heart rate elevates until they’re gone. He’s better, he is.

Bdubs takes him back to the others, and they explain to him what’s been going on. It’s Gem’s task to spread the Boogeyman curse, one by one, to everyone. He suddenly feels a little bad for trying to burn the book earlier, because this sounds like a good time. Causing some chaos, killing some people, making each other laugh — it's what they’re all here for. It’s why they play the game.

(There’s a small but persistent inkling of unease living behind his rib cage at the fact that they’re comparing themselves to zombies, to an apocalypse, but he ignores it. It’s not important enough to mention it, and he doesn’t want to ruin everyone’s fun.)

They get Etho, and Gem praises him for it, and Scar tries not to compare the fortress the others are defending to the bunkers he used to raid. His brain still makes the connection, as much as he wishes it didn’t. The memories trickle in slowly, making him more and more on edge as the day goes on. It will be over soon, Scar tells himself. Then he can rest, and go back to being better.

Joel has a zombie spawner to farm XP. Scar has used it, has been inside it. He’d been expecting zombies, then. He doesn’t expect it when Joel throws down sixty-four zombie eggs in a row.

The thin and fraying thread tying him together snaps.

Everyone is screaming and yelling, running, chasing after Joel. There are zombies as far as he can see, in groups and alone, groaning and gurgling into the night. It fills his ears, wraps itself around his mind like a vice, catapults him back to when he was just a kid, fighting the world with his teeth bared and no one at his back.

Everything goes fuzzy and distant, the noises muffled beneath his heartbeat and heaving breaths echoing endlessly in his ears. He slows to a stop, chest heaving and eyes wide, skin going cold and numb with terror. Nothing makes sense. Everything is wrong.

There’s something in his hand, and he looks at it, panicked tears prickling at his eyes. He’s holding a sword, and an anguished, confused noise rips itself from his throat. Where’s his gun? Guns are better, guns are safer; guns mean he doesn’t have to get close.

The moaning of the undead is growing louder, they’re coming for him, and he stumbles forward with gasping breaths, eyes flitting around wildly as he searches for a place to hide. The ground is filled with craters, zombies in every direction, and he blinks desperately to clear his blurry vision, pushing forward with all the desperate agony of a man living on borrowed time.

He thinks he hears someone call his name, but it can’t be real, it’s just a memory, it’s just his stupid, persistent hope manifesting itself at the worst possible time. He has to get back to his base, his bunker, but nothing looks familiar, no direction looks like the correct way to go—

He runs anyway, passing by a giant stone statue and weaving around holes in the ground and slashing blindly at anything that looks like it’s moving. He spots a tower in the distance, oddly shaped and oddly colored, but a structure nonetheless, and he runs for it. The zombies are here and they never left and he never left and he runs.

He only makes it halfway.

There’s a zombie in one of the craters, and Scar doesn’t see it, is too wrapped up in his tunnel vision, and it grabs at his ankle as he walks by. He hits the ground, hard, his knee hitting first before everything else. He hears a sharp crack, and knows it’s broken.

He twists his head around wildly, tearing his leg out of the zombies cold grip with a yell of pain, dragging himself out of reach just in time for others to bear down on him. His vision becomes a swirling kaleidoscope of hands and teeth, of skin and claws, and he opens his mouth and screams.

(He won’t know until later, but everyone near spawn hears it. Everyone hears it, and freezes, and turns to look. It sounds like pure terror, like the final cry of a dying man. None of them will ever forget it.)

He swings his sword wildly, slashing and scrambling to get away, but his knee hurts and they’re pushing him down, he can’t get up—

He hears yelling, distantly, but that still can’t be right, no one else is here, no one else can save him—

Scar rolls to the side, and falls into one of the craters, dirt and pebbles sprinkling down on top of him when he hits the ground with a dull thud. He shouts through clenched teeth as the landing jostles his leg, but still pushes himself up and back until his back hits the solid side of the hole. Grass and dirt is still clinging above him, forming somewhat of an overhang. They can’t attack from directly above. Scar grips his sword in violently shaking hands and waits for the hoards to find him.

He still hears the voices, but he shouldn’t be hearing voices, he’s alone here, he hasn’t heard a human voice not his own since he was six, and he closes his eyes tightly for a few seconds, willing himself back to reality. Something drops to the ground in front of him, and Scars eyes wrench themselves back open, landing on the shadowed figure of a person coming his way. He has both hands on his sword, and he points it at the approaching zombie.

It speaks. It says his name.

“Scar,” the figure says, a deep, frantic concern in their voice. “Are you— What happened? Are you okay?”

The cloud that had been blocking the moon slowly drifts away, and Scar gets a good look at the figure — the person — in front of him. He’s human, he’s alive, and Scar knows him, he knows who it is, but he can’t be here, he’s not supposed to be here. This is the world where Scar is young and alone. No one else belongs here.

The past and the present collide angrily in his head; he doesn’t know what’s real. He doesn’t even know this person's name. The person is crouching a few feet away, empty hands extended imploringly, worry plain in his eyes. Scar’s eyes catch on his shirt, black with gold accents, and can’t help but think that something’s missing. A letter, he thinks, but can’t quite remember which one.

It doesn’t matter. He’s not really here.

He must’ve said some of that out loud, because the man’s face drops, something heartbroken pinching at his eyes. Scar feels bad, and doesn’t know why.

“I’m here, Scar,” says the man, voice trembling. “I’m real. You’re okay.”

The man is a liar. Scar shakes his head, a trembling exhale shaking his tense frame. The sword remains steady.

“No,” Scar says, voice strained and breaking. “No, you— you can’t be. Not here.”

“Scar—“

“Stop saying my name,” Scar begs. “I don’t know— I don’t know who you are.”

It’s only half true. He recognizes him, knows he’s a friend, but his brain is rebelling against the very thought that he could exist in a place like this. In the place Scar grew up. No. Everyone was either dead or undead, here. Everyone but Scar. This person with sad eyes and gentle hands does not belong.

“Impulse!” Another voice is calling down at them, and Scar looks up, catching a glimpse of bright orange curls and mismatched eyes. Nothing makes sense. “Is he okay?”

The man — Impulse — looks at him, and then looks up. He can still hear the zombies, everywhere and far too many.

“Get Grian,” Impulse says, and the person above them freezes for just a moment, and then disappears.

Grian, Scar thinks. Another name he knows. Another name that doesn’t make sense to be hearing in a world like this. His mind scrambles, his eyes sting, the zombies groan and shriek above him. Nothing makes sense.

Grian will, some distant and muted part of him says.

Grian will.

—————————

Grian is on top of their cobblestone tower — laughing at the sheer amount of zombies and chaos in the distance — when Gem comes tearing up the slope at high speeds, something frantic and determined in her eyes.

“No zombies allowed!” Grian calls down, grinning, though it dims when she looks up at him. There is something serious and desperate about her gaze.

“Grian!” She slides to a stop at the base of their castle, face dotted with sweat and panic. “You need to come with me, something—“

“You’re just going to kill me,” Grian says, confused and faltering. “Why would I—“

“It’s Scar,” Gem interrupts, a harsh concern clipping her words. “He’s— Something’s wrong with him, a zombie got him and he screamed.”

Grian tilts his head. “Scar screams all the time.”

“Not like this,” Gem says, sounding genuinely shaken. “Not like this, Grian, please.”

She doesn’t even have her sword out, standing at the base of their fortress with wild eyes and a desperate plea. Something’s wrong with Scar. Something bad enough that everything else has gone out the window. Gem’s not here asking him to play the game. She’s here begging him to pause it.

“Okay,” Grian says, a new bubble of panic growing in his chest. “I’m coming, let’s go.”

Gem nods at him when he emerges from the tower, and then she takes off running, leaving Grian with nothing to do but follow. It seems to take forever to get there, weaving around hoards of zombies and craters left over from the wither attack. The other server members are mowing through the hoards with swords and axes, and what seems to be extreme prejudice. They all look a bit shaken. The coil of nervous worry in Grian’s rib cage grows.

Gem stops them at a random crater, and nods. “Down there,” she says, and then throws herself back into the fray, cutting through any undead limbs that reach for her. The surface is a battlefield.

Grian drops down, and Impulse turns to look at him, grim concern pressing his lips thin. He looks relieved when he sees him, and Grian looks behind him and realizes why.

Scar is there, hunched against the wall and shaking like a leaf, sword held in trembling hands and fearful eyes flickering between them. Grian’s stomach drops, and he inhales shakily. Scar looks lost, and so very, very afraid. He’s never seen him like this.

“It’s the zombies,” Impulse says, quietly. “They set him off somehow, I— He barely recognizes me.”

Grian remembers, distantly, Double Life. Scar had fallen into a pit of zombies, and they had both died that day. He hadn’t quite understood why their shared heart had been beating so fast for so long after; he never knew the reason for Scar’s shell-shocked eyes above his trembling smile when they met back up. He still doesn’t know why, but now he knows for sure. Scar is afraid of zombies.

“Get rid of them,” Grian says, equally hushed, even though everyone has already started. Impulse just nods, one hand on his sword, and climbs out of the crater. Grian turns to Scar.

“Scar,” Grian starts, voice carefully relaxed. “You’re safe, okay? We’re getting rid of them.”

Scar shakes his head, moonlight catching on the tear tracks on his face, and Grian aches.

“You can’t be here,” Scar says, turning pleading eyes towards him. “You— You can’t be here.”

Grian gets a little closer, and crouches down, doing his best to appear non-threatening. “Why not, Scar?”

“It’s wrong,” Scar says, sounding all of ten years old, terrified and unsteady. “I’m supposed to be alone, you can’t be here.”

“Why are you supposed to be alone?”

“It’s just me, it’s always just me,” Scar insists, and then he inclines his head upwards, to where the zombies are still groaning. “Me and them.”

Grian swallows, feeling out of his depth and worried. The only reason Scar would have a reaction like this is if it had once been true. Once upon a time, it really had just been Scar and hoards of zombies. And in Scar’s mind, that’s where he was. He’d never left. Grian’s stomach rolled.

“We’re not there,” Grian says, still unsure where there was. “We’re in Secret Life, Scar. We’re playing a game.”

Scar shakes his head again, violently, and starts trying to stand up. A muffled whine escapes his throat when he puts weight on his knee, but still he stands. Grian wants to grab him and shake him and then wrap him up in several blankets.

“You’re hurt,” Grian says, a note of pleading in his voice, hands hovering, wanting to reach out. “You shouldn’t be walking, Scar.”

“I’ve walked on worse,” Scar says vacantly, and twists around to look behind him, making a noise of frustration. “My backpack, where’s my— I need—“

“Backpack?” Grian repeats.

“I need morphine,” Scar says, voice tight with pain and panic. “I need to get out of here. You need to get out of here. You can’t be here.”

Morphine. Scar’s plan is to numb the agony of a broken knee and run on it anyway. Scar says it like it’s normal, like there’s no other choice, like this is the only way. Maybe it was, once. Grian wants to scream and cry and pull the universe apart with his hands. Instead, he grabs Scar’s wrist in a gentle hold.

“I am here,” Grian says, soft but firmly still, and Scar freezes. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Grian tugs at his wrist making Scar meet his eyes, trying to ground him. Scar blinks at him, hazy and distant, chest heaving. Grian reaches out slowly, and takes the sword from Scar’s hand.

“Do you remember,” Grian begins, “asking me to be your friend?”

Grian remembers. Scar, with grey skin and crimson eyes, hiding a sheepish grin behind a bouquet of poppies and lilacs. Something like recognition flickers across Scar’s face, and Grian keeps going.

“We had a llama called Pizza.”

“I blew you up on accident.”

“The moon was falling and you built a rocket upside down.”

“You were my soulmate, of course it was you—“

“You made fun of our bread bridge.”

“You were actually a pretty good mayor, you know.”

Grian lays their memories out between them, holding Scar’s wrist gently in his hands, and doesn’t stop until Scar looks at him and finally seems to see him. His face crumples, awareness flooding his expression, and Grian lowers them both to the ground when Scar’s knees give out.

“I’m sorry,” Scar says, voice cracking, and he gives an awkward little laugh that makes Grian’s heart twist sharply. “That doesn’t— That hasn’t happened in a while.”

“It’s okay, Scar, don’t apologize,” Grian says, adjusting his grip to hold Scar’s hand loosely. “Do you feel better?”

“I feel like I ran a marathon,” Scar answers, exhaustion in his tone. “I don’t— Thank you. For bringing me back.”

“Of course.” Grian hesitates. “…Where did you go?”

Scar takes a shaky breath, eyes going tired and sad. Grian’s eyes catch on a scar peeking out beneath his collar.

“I was stuck in a hardcore world when I was a kid,” Scaf says eventually, resigned. “I was the only player in a zombie apocalypse. I had to… let myself die, to get out. But I spent years there.”

Grian stares, quietly horrified. He imagines Scar, so very young and so very alone, running on broken limbs and killing things that once were people every day, and still finding the willpower to survive for years and years. That Scar had grown up in a world without light and still come out of it with a personality bright enough to blind them all — it was nothing short of miraculous. Brilliant, mischievous, stubborn Scar, with enough skeletons in his closet for all of them and the uncanny ability to make them laugh until they were out of breath.

“You never said anything,” Grian says, careful to keep any accusation out of his voice. He understands. He still wishes he had known, somehow.

“It’s not fun to hear about,” Scar says, and stares at his broken knee. “And it’s…not easy to talk about, either.”

“I know,” Grian says, squeezing his hand. “But if you ever want to, I’m here. I don’t want— I don’t want this to happen again.”

The zombie sounds have died down, the others having done their damn best to kill them quickly. It’s quiet but for their breathing, slowly slowing down.

“I’m a lot better,” Scar says, brow furrowed. “That was just, a lot more than I was expecting.”

“It’s okay,” Grian says. “It’s… You don’t have to be better all the time.”

Scar glances at him, his mouth lifting just a bit, looking a little lighter. “Thanks.”

“And you can talk to us.” Grian smiles back. “We can help you when it’s hard.”

Scar lets out a long, slow breath, the shake in his hands finally down to something manageable. Grian is relieved for all of two seconds, and then something mischievous flickers in Scar’s eyes. Grian sighs, because he knows what’s coming—

“That’s what she said,” Scar says, quick and unapologetic, and Grian smacks his shoulder with his free hand. Scar laughs, and Grian just rolls his eyes and grins.

Yeah. He’ll be fine.

#hope u like it if u read it !!!#my writing #goodtimeswithscar #grian #the crafting dead #desert duo #gtws #secret life smp #actual post

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