#*fingers guns without looking where I’m going and runs into a wall*

[top-shelf-tender]

{{I think I’ve narrowed down my thread reply paralysis to worrying about matching length/quality, and desiring the instant gratification of Discord chats. I’m gonna really fight these today because dammit I wanna RP with you lovely people! 😭❤️}}

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

pairing: cult leader!joel miller x virgin!female reader

rating: explicit (18+ MDNI)

word count: 8.6k

summary:

You think you’re as good as dead when a band of raiders find you. In what you think are your final moments, an angel appears.

His name is Joel Miller, and he is here to deliver you from evil.

author's note: a huge thank you to my fellow cultist @atinylittlepain for listening to me scream about this. without them, we'd probably be on version 5 of this story. and to everyone who has been excited about this, i hope you enjoy!

warnings: DARK CONTENT - DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, dub-con: power dynamics, dub-con: cult mentality, age difference - 60M and 27F, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact), no use of y/n, dual POV, post-outbreak, canon divergence, canon typical violence (knife wounds, gun shot wounds, numerous mentions of blood), minor character death(s), blood cult ceremonies, religious themes, possessive behavior, emotional manipulation, loss of virginity, oral sex - f receiving, vaginal fingering, unprotected p in v, cum play, dirty talk, pet names, praise, joel really has a loose screw ok? if there are any tags missing, please let me know!

“I don’t think you should go out there by yourself,” you say, watching as your dad inspects his gun. He looks up at you with a pained expression.

“I gotta see where we should head next. I don’t want to lead you out in the wrong direction, accidentally get you in a bad spot,” he says. “I’ll be fine, buttercup.”

There’s a heaviness that settles in your stomach at his words. He sounds confident enough, but his eyes tell a different story, expose his fear. He stands with a sigh, a wince of pain washing over his face.

“Maybe I should—“

“No,” he interrupts. “I’m going. I won’t be gone long, okay? We can’t stay here forever. Who knows what’s out there in the forest.”

That’s exactly what you’re afraid of. At least inside the rotted cabin you stumbled across you could pretend you were safe. The forest is alive in a way you’ve never experienced growing up in a QZ surrounded with barbed wire and steel. You hear the snap of twigs and the howl of wolves, or the flutter of wings and the call of birds, and sometimes you think you feel the weight of eyes watching you if you venture out too far in your exploration.

“We’ve made it this far. We got out of Denver and that was half the battle,” your dad says. “You got your knife, right? And enough rations.”

You nod, swallowing around the lump in your throat. He kisses your forehead, dry lips lingering on your skin. You have an aching feeling this is a goodbye, some sinking intuition that he’s making a mistake that you can’t correct.

“Be back soon. I love you.”

Joel’s been keeping an eye on the people in the woods for the last three days. There was chatter on one of the radio stations that the Denver QZ was facing an uprising and he knows that once those walls come down, the survivors that venture out are bound to stumble across his town.

The cabin door opens and the man steps out, venturing into the forest. Joel waits to see if his female companion follows, but the door remains shut. He longs to see you, the girl who’s image has been burned into his brain since his first glimpse, but he has a duty to fulfill first.

He walks quickly and quietly through the forest, sure feet catching up with the man less than a mile from where he’d started.  Joel clears his throat. 

The man turns, fumbling with a gun that he clearly has no experience using, pointing it at Joel with shaking hands and shouting, “Move and I’ll shoot!” 

“You lost?” Joel asks, holding his hands up and keeping his face trained in a mask of concern. “Lookin’ for somethin’?”

After a pause, the man seeming to have concluded that Joel isn't a threat, he says, “My daughter and I…we escaped the Denver QZ."

"That must've been difficult." 

"We....we're running out of food," he continues, dropping his arms, limbs hanging heavy at his sides. "I-I don't know what else to do, man."

Gun no longer pointed at his face, Joel approaches the man, stopping when he's within arms reach. Up close, he can see the dismal state the guy is in -- sunken cheeks and bloodshot eyes, tattered clothing hanging on a thin frame. Joel places a hand on his bony shoulder.

"I can help you," he says. The man looks up, a brief glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes. Joel watches the slow realization, the way his brain catches up to what's just happened, a choked noise spilling from his dry lips. 

Joel tugs his knife from the man's gut and steps back, watching as he collapses to the ground. Desperate hands smear the blooming red stain across his abdomen. Joel circles the man, positioning himself at his back, and pulls him close with a hand slapped over his mouth.

"I'll take good care of her," he whispers before dragging his knife across his neck in one clean slice. The man twitches once before growing limp and Joel releases him, body hitting the forest floor with a dull thud. Not one to waste, Joel gathers anything of use from his person. 

Something catches the light against his neck. Curious, Joel tugs the bloodstained neck of his t-shirt to the side, finding a silver chain. He pulls, revealing the length of it. 

A cross.

The clasp snaps with a sharp tug and Joel stuffs it in his pocket. Standing and shouldering his bag once more, he begins his walk back towards the cabin.

You're running as fast as your legs will carry you, lungs and limbs burning with the effort. You made the mistake of not listening to your dad when he'd told you stay where you were, to stay hidden, that he'd come back. Your nerves had gotten the best of you and you decided that you would catch up with him, but you didn't know which direction he'd gone. You figured you would travel a little ways and see if you could find him and if you didn't do so quickly, you'd rush back to the cabin and wait, just as he told you.

That's when the men saw you, two large figures with rifles that reminded you of FEDRA soldiers slung across their backs. 

You duck behind a thick tree to catch your breath. You can hear voices calling out through the forest above the rush of blood in your ears, taunting tones carrying through the air.

"C'mon out, pretty girl!" 

You chance a peek out from your hiding spot, only catching a brief glimpse of one man through the trees. 

"Where ya hidin', sweet thing?" 

His voice sounds far away and that gives you the courage to move forward, a tentative dash for another tree. 

“I might be nicer to ya if you just come on out, but if I have to hunt ya down…well…you know what a hunter does to its prey, don’tcha?”

You press your hand over your mouth, muffling the cry that claws its way up your throat. You start to run again, faster, not caring if he can hear you so long as you're able to maintain that distance, hoping that if you can outrun them for long enough, he'll just give up and then maybe you can find your--

You crash into something, the world sliding out from under you and the breath rushing from your lungs as you land on your back with a pained shout. A hand wraps around your ankle, pulling you across the rough ground before you have the chance to recover. 

"Gotcha," a man says, the voice different from the one that had been taunting you before. A figure stands over you, a foot on either side of your hips, looking down at you with a sinister smile. "Pretty little prize, huh?"

You twist your body, scrambling away from him. He laughs, following after you with unhurried strides.

“Now, don’t play hard to get,” he admonishes. A hand wraps around your ankle and he drags you toward him, kicking and screaming. Your foot connects with some fleshy part of him and he curses. 

“You little fuckin’ cunt,” he hisses, dropping your foot. He kicks you, heavy boot colliding with soft flesh and bone, a sharp pain blossoming in your side, shooting down to your very marrow. You curl in on yourself, wounded prey trying to protect its most vulnerable parts.

A shot rings out, the sound startling in the relative quiet of the forest. You sit up, sudden movement making you light headed, and it takes you a long moment to register the scene before you.

The man that had been chasing you, the one that had caught you, the one that had hurt you on the surface but planned to do far worse, lies on the ground, eyes wide open but unseeing. Above him stands your savior, an older man with gray streaked dark curls and tan skin, broad shoulders and hard brown eyes. He reminds you of a painting you saw once in a book your dad owned, long before the outbreak.

“Death On A Pale Horse,” he explained when you showed him the painting that caught your eye. “Based on the Book of Revelations. You remember that one, right?” 

“Yeah.”

“This one,” — he pointed to the central figure, a dark creature on a white horse — “is Death. And this one” — he pointed to a figure on the right that rides a dark brown horse, the dark colors making him blend among the horrors breaking from the sky behind him — “would be famine. You can see the emaciated man below him.”

“What about the other two?” You asked.

“The one of the red horse would be war.”

You pointed to the remaining figure, a man with dark curls and a determined expression. “And the white horse?”

Your dad paused. “Conquest. Pestilence. The Antichrist. The first horseman of the apocalypse.”

The man before you today looks like that figure on the white horse and despite his choice to rescue you from one horror, you fear he may be something far worse.

The man kneels and you flinch away from him. He sighs and says, “I ain’t goin’ to hurt you.”

“Who are you?” You ask, voice weak, throat on fire. 

“My name is Joel,” he says. “I want to help you.”

“How do I know you weren’t with those other guys?” Your eyes grow wide and you rush to stand on shaky legs. “Wait, there’s another—“

“He won’t be an issue,” Joel assures you, wrapping a steadying arm around your waist. “C’mon.”

“I can’t—“

“Men like those two ain’t the only things in the forest to worry about, and I’m afraid we can’t sit around and find out. That gun shot could send a horde runnin’.”

“Wait!” You snap, pulling out of his grasp. He holds his hands up, as if in surrender, or maybe like he’s approaching a wounded animal. You’re not sure which. “My dad is out there. H-he went to figure out where to go from here. We were in a cabin…” Your voice trails off. “I told him I would wait for him.”

Joel’s eyes are soft as he says, “We need to get ourselves to safety. I can send someone out to look for your dad first thing in the mornin’.”

“Send someone?”

“There’s a group of us, down in the valley. Survivors, like you.”

“Really?” Relief washes over you, eclipsing even the ache in your belly and the burn in your throat and the pain in your muscles. “How far?”

“With the state you’re in, probably about a two hour hike.”

You don’t have much choice but to go with him, do you?

“Okay.”

“Where’re you comin’ from?” Joel asks, glancing over his shoulder at you. You’ve been following quietly behind him, head down and eyes fixed on the ground. 

“Denver,” is all you offer in response. He knew that much already. He wants to know more.

Maybe he has to give more first.

“‘M from Texas, originally. Was in a QZ in Boston for a while before makin’ my way out here.”

“Why’d you come out here?” You ask.

“Had a friend once tell me, ‘Save who you can save’,” he says. 

“What does that mean?” You ask.

“You’ll see.”

Joel had mentioned survivors, but you're shocked to discover that just past a wooden sign proclaiming WELCOME TO CRESTONE in chipped yellow paint, a whole town is tucked away, surrounded by a wooden gate that opens for you as you approach. You feel the weight of curious eyes as you walk through a town square, Joel's palm between your shoulder blades steering you towards a more residential area until you reach a two story adobe home.

Once inside, you’re led upstairs to a sparsely decorated bedroom, a large bed in the center with a faded quilt tucked around the mattress with precision and a dresser against one wall covered in yellowed wallpaper. Joel gestures for you to sit, kneeling on the wood floor in front of you to work on the laces of your sneakers.

“What—“

“You need rest,” he says, removing your shoes. He looks up at you, brown eyes full of concern. Your stomach flips.

“But—“

“No,” he says sternly. He stands and walks to the side of the bed, tugging the quilt free and folding it down. “I have duties to return to, but you’ll be safe here.”

You don’t have it in you to continue arguing. You haven’t seen a comfortable bed in more than two days and the exhaustion catches up to you in one fell swoop, eyes halfway to shut as you crawl into the space Joel’s made for you between the sheets. He pulls the covers over you, the warmth of a hand smoothing across your cheek the last thing you feel before falling asleep.

You wake to the sun high in the sky, streaming through the open window of a room that you don't recognize.  You push yourself to sitting, your ribs protesting the movement and your head pulsing just behind your eyes. Your mouth is unbearably dry, so much so that you start coughing, further aggravating your bruised ribs.

"There's water on the nightstand," a voice says, startling you.

You look to your left, finding a young girl sitting in a wooden chair by your bed. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, wayward pieces falling across pale skin. Her sharp brown eyes watch you with an intensity that makes your skin crawl.

“I’m Ellie,” she says. You mumble your own name.

“Did Joel save you?” Ellie asks. 

“Uh—“

“He must have. That’s what he does,” she continues, cutting you off. 

“Ellie!” A familiar deep voice calls out. Her eyes go wide and she scrambles from her seat, rushing for the door. Heavy footsteps climb the stairs, Joel appearing in the open doorway. He looks at her with a stern expression, mouth pressed in a thin line. “Thought I told you not to come up here.”

The look on her face isn’t fear, like her reaction would have led you to believe. No, she looks up at Joel with reverence as she says, “Sorry. Wanted to see her.”

Joel nods. “Head to the mess hall. I’ll bring her down shortly.”

Ellie casts a lingering look in your direction before disappearing through the doorway. 

“Sorry about her,” Joel says. He takes a seat on the edge of the mattress. “How’re you feelin’?”

“Could be better,” you say honestly. “How long was I asleep for?”

“A little more than a day.”

Your eyes go wide. “My dad—“

“We’ve sent out a search party. No luck yet, I’m afraid,” he says. You curl into yourself a bit at the news, shoulders tight with worry. He reaches forward and places a hand on top of your own where it rests on the sheets. “You should get some food. I brought you some new clothes, too. I’ll let you get dressed and we can go down to the mess hall.“

He leaves the room before you respond and you drag the pile of clothes closer to you, finding a neatly folded t-shirt, jeans, underwear, and socks. It takes you a long moment to work your way out of your dirty clothes, your movements slow to not aggravate your injuries. You keep your bra on, pulling the clean shirt over your head, followed by the jeans. You're thrilled to be wearing something that's not caked with dirt and sweat.

You're working on putting your socks on when there's a knock at the door, Joel entering when you call out for him to come in. He smiles at you.

"There, that's better," he says. "C'mon. Let's get down to dinner."

You follow him out of the room and down the stairs. The first floor of the home has a kitchen that opens up to a living and dining area, the space filled with worn mismatched furniture. The walls are wood paneled and there's a massive stone fireplace with elk antlers mounted above it.

The sun is setting as you step outside and get your first real look at the town as its bathed in gold. Narrow residential streets give way to wider roads once you reach the town center, where commercial buildings are pressed together advertising long forgotten businesses, their windows dark. 

"That's the butcher up there," Joel says, pointing to one of the wooden buildings. "He gets the meat from the traps prepped for us." He points to another building with a sign that says RESTAURANT. "That's the bakery."

"A butcher and a bakery?" You ask. "Do you have electricity here?"

"Sure do. Solar panels, just outside the gate."

You continue walking through the town until you come up on a large white building, people entering and exiting through a set of thick double doors. The shadow of a cross remains above the door, perhaps scorched by the sun where a crucifix once sat. People welcome Joel as he enters, heads turning in their curiosity. You press a little closer to Joel's side.

The large room is bursting with noise and activity -- a flurry of conversations, the clink of cutlery, and laughter. You've not seen anything like it before, the mentality in the QZ not conducive to camaraderie. You can count on one hand the number of people you would have considered friends within those walls, and even that was a stretch. You and Joel join a line of people retrieving plates of food from a single window. 

"How long has all of this been here?" You ask, gesturing to the room. He looks around proudly.

"Ellie and I came across this town on accident after we went through hell leavin' Boston. The folks here set up their own quarantine zone and with bigger fish to fry, FEDRA sort of left ‘em alone. They were kind enough to take us in," he says. "After that, more people started showin' up lookin' for safety. Lots of people who escaped the QZs or had been on their own for a while and were tired of runnin'."

"Ellie says you save people," you comment, taking a step forward as the line moves. "What's that mean?"

"Every flock needs a shepherd."

You’re at the front of the line now, standing in front of the window. A woman appears, her face lighting up when she sees Joel.

“Joel! How are you?” She asks, leaning onto the ledge. Behind her you can see people moving quickly and efficiently around a stainless steel kitchen, large pots of food simmering on the stovetop. 

“Well enough,” he says. He places a hand on your shoulder. “We have a new guest. Make her plate nice and full for me?”

“Of course.” 

She gathers a plate from a precarious stack, loading it with a heaping pile of food ranging from mashed potatoes and stew to colorful vegetables that you haven’t seen in ages, not since before the outbreak when you were seven and your dad would make dinner rather than pass you a ration package. You’re speechless as she hands you the plate with a kind smile, a mumbled thank you the best you can manage to show your gratitude.

Joel is handed a plate as well and you follow him to a table where Ellie sits next to a man with white hair, her plate already empty in front of her. The man looks up at Joel as you approach, his expression closed off and wary. 

“Michael,” Joel says in greeting, jaw ticking. You take a seat beside Ellie, who to your surprise moves closer to you, arm brushing yours. “You botherin’ Ellie?”

The man, Michael, shakes his head. “No, sir. We were just having a little talk.”

“What about?” Joel sits on the opposite side of the table. He rips his bread roll in half. 

“Just some concerns I was having.”

“You bring your concerns to me. Not to her.”

The two men stare at each other, the tension thick and impossible to ignore. Finally, Michael gets up, leaving the table without another word. Ellie’s shoulder’s lose their tension and Joel catches her eye, the two of them seeming to have an entire conversation in just a look.

The moment passes and Joel’s features relax, a smile tilting the corners of his lips as he returns his attention to you and gestures to your plate.

“Dig in,” he says.

Joel walks you back to his home after dinner, the sky now dark. Ellie’s already closed herself in her room by the time the two of you return, having left the mess hall before you had finished eating. 

“Tired again?” Joel asks when you yawn, mouth open wide as you stretch your arms above your head. 

Your expression is sheepish as you say, “A little bit.”

“That’s to be expected,” he assures you. “You fought a hard fight. It’s okay to relax now. I’ve got you.”

“Thank you.” Your fingers tangle in the hem of the t-shirt he’d given you earlier. “I don’t know if I’ve said that already.”

“You’re welcome. Come on, let’s get you back upstairs. You can use the shower and get to bed.”

“Oh my god, a shower sounds amazing.”

He shows you the bathroom and helps you get the water running. Once he shows you where to find a towel, you smile gratefully before shutting the door on him.

Dismissed, Joel makes his way to Ellie’s room, knocking on the door. She answers quickly, opening up only enough for him to see her face.

“Yeah?” She asks.

“Can I come in?” 

She rolls her eyes but opens the door further, allowing him inside. Her room is smaller than his but far more decorated, pages ripped out of old magazines and comic books tacked to the wall. She takes a seat on her single bed, folding her legs beneath her.

“What did Michael talk to you about?” He asks. She shrugs her shoulders. Joel bites back a sigh. Sometimes he forgets what it was like to reason with a teenage girl. “Ellie.”

“He said” — she pauses, scratching at her wrist in the way that she will when she’s anxious — “he said that you were full of shit. That your fucked up ceremony isn’t helping any of them.”

Joel’s teeth grind together. “That all?”

“Called me a stupid kid for following what you say,” she mumbles. “Said everyone in town was stupid for believing you.”

“Thank you for tellin’ me,” he says. Rage burns in his veins as he turns to leave. 

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie asks as he reaches the door.

“I’m goin’ to teach him a lesson.”

He pulls the door shut behind him, tilting his head against the wood with a sigh. The click of a latch down the hall precedes your quiet, “Joel?”

Joel turns to face you, surprised to find you standing just outside the bathroom door with a towel tucked around your body. Water glistens on your skin in the low light, drawing his eyes down your neck and across your chest. He clears his throat.

“Everythin’ alright?” He asks. 

“Yeah, everything is fine,” you murmur. “I…could I get some new clothes?”

“Of course, should’a given you some before you showered. Sorry about that.” 

Joel walks past you, entering his bedroom and approaching the dresser. He tugs the top drawer open, full of clothing he’d gathered while you’d been asleep for more than a day. He piles together another t-shirt, sleep pants, and underwear, setting them on the bed for you. 

You’re standing in the doorway when he finishes and he fights the urge to go to you, to pull you close, to run his wretched hands over your body like he’s wanted to since he first saw you in the forest. 

He doesn’t, though. Not yet. You still have much to learn.

“Here you go,” he says. “Some more stuff in the drawers for you if you need it.”

Joel leaves you to get ready for bed, shutting the door behind him. He heads downstairs to grab what he’ll need, essentials shoved in a bag thrown over his shoulder before venturing off into the night.

Only a few lights continue to illuminate windows as Joel walks through the residential area. The house he approaches at the end of a street is already dark, quiet beyond the wood door that he knocks on three times. The door opens slowly, Michael appearing in the small space. 

“What?” He grunts.

“Come take a walk,” Joel says. Michael rolls his eyes, moving to shut the door but Joel’s boot blocks his effort. “I ain’t askin’, Michael.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do?” He challenges. Joel throws his weight against the door, catching Michael by surprise enough for him to step into the house.

Joel throws an elbow into the man’s gut, making him double over with a groan. He circles behind him, kicking the back of his knee to send him to the ground. He pulls a length of chain from his pocket, looping it around Michael’s neck and pulling the ends.

Michael struggles, clawing at the garotte and thrashing wildly, but Joel holds strong. He tightens his grip further until Michael’s fight becomes sluggish, lack of oxygen finally causing him to go limp.

Joel releases the chain and Michael’s body slumps to the ground. He removes his backpack, digging through the contents until he finds a rusted pair of handcuffs that he uses to bind Michael’s arms behind his back. Next, he places a strip of duct tape over his mouth.

When he wakes, Joel will lead him out past the gate. He will find an unassuming home that rests outside the boundary of Crestone. He will open the hidden doors of the cellar, the ones covered in a layer of leaves and grass. From the darkness he will hear the echo of desperate groans and the rattle of chains and the angry attempts to break free from bindings. He will lead Michael down the dirt steps, the smell of rot and fear and death clawing at his olfactory nerves. 

He will place a burlap bag over a struggling Michael’s head and the man will beg and plead in words muffled by tape. Then, Joel will offer him for judgment.

A hand on you shoulder shakes you awake, the room still mostly dark when you manage to open your eyes. You groan, pulling the quilt up over your head.

“C’mon, we gotta get to breakfast,” Ellie says. The cover gets yanked down and she gives you a mischievous grin. 

“Where’s Joel?” You ask, sitting up slowly. She shrugs.

“Probably there already.”

You swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand, stretching your arms up. You grab the same jeans and socks from the day before, changing into them quickly and sitting down on the floor to pull your sneakers on. Ellie watches you, her foot tapping impatiently.

“You can go without me if you’re in a rush,” you offer. She shakes her head.

“I’m fine,” she says quickly. “You ready?”

“Sure.”

You follow her out of the house, her clipped pace difficult to keep up with due to your lingering pain. As the sun starts to rise and you pass by more of the houses, you notice something peculiar about some of them.

“What’s that?” You ask, pausing in front of one the houses. There’s a streak of what looks like dark red paint across the top of the door. Ellie doubles back and stands beside you.

“Protection,” she says. 

“From what?” 

She shifts her weight from foot to foot, uncomfortable with your line of questioning. Rather than answer, she walks away, leaving you to catch up to her or be left behind.

As the two of you start to walk through the square, there’s a rush of people around you. Shouting can be heard up ahead as a crowd comes into view, gathered around the front of the mess hall building. People press in close together, craning their necks to see over each other and catch a glimpse of whatever spectacle has their attention.

Ellie pushes through the crowd and you follow close on her heels until she manages to break through the other side of the wall of people. You catch glimpses of something writhing on the ground, something animal but not quite, something failed and fetid and foul. Another peek affords you a view of an arm littered with bite marks shaped by blunt teeth, deep gouges into their skin that shine red with blood and fester with disease.

Joel appears, stepping around the side of the building. The whispers cease, the crunch of Joel’s boots and pained groans the only noise to be heard in the stale air.

His dark eyes scan the crowd. People shrink back from his gaze, pressing closer to each other for relief. He reaches down, curling his fingers into the burlap material and yanking it off to reveal a man, familiar and yet not recognizable. Unseeing eyes, ashen skin, and dark red veins now the hallmark characteristics of the man you now remember as the one who had been talking to Ellie in the dining hall.

Joel draws a gun from his back, aiming it at Michael’s head. “Let this be a lesson,” he says, pulling the trigger.

The shot rings out, making you jump. The agonized sounds come to abrupt halt and his body goes limp, eyes still open as blood blooms on the ground around him. 

“No blood spilled. No blood saved,” Joel says. You look up from the horrible scene and meet his hard gaze. You step back, turning and shoving your way through the crowd.

Then, you run.

You’re frantically shoving clothing into your bag when a door slams downstairs and heavy footsteps climb the stairs at a quick pace. You can feel the burn of Joel's eyes on your back, his presence in the room thick and cloying as you refuse to turn around, even when he murmurs your name.

He moves closer, a hand on your shoulder prompting you to turn to break the connection. He holds his hands up in surrender, taking a step back as he says, "Let me explain."

"Explain? Explain?! How the fuck do you explain that?!" You snap. 

"If you'll just listen--"

"There's nothing you could possibly say that will--"

"Ellie is immune!" He shouts. Your words die on the tip of your tongue, lost to ether as you stare at Joel. 

"W-what do you mean? Immune?" You ask. 

He takes a deep breath. "I told you what my friend said. 'Save who you can save'. The first person I saved was Ellie."

"I helped her out of Boston, kept her safe, nearly lost my life if it meant keepin' her alive," He continues. "That's what I offer here."

"So you think you're....what? Some kind of god? That you can grant immunity?"

He huffs a laugh, the noise devoid of any humor. "God abandoned his worst experiment in their time of need. There is no god anymore, just the poor creatures he left behind. Someone had to take up the mantle."

"But how?"

"The ceremony," he says. 

"That’s not a fucking answer, Joel!” You shout. “What fucking ceremony?!”

“Blood spilled for blood saved. You can’t make it in this world without givin’ your everythin’ first.” He lifts the bottom of his shirt, just enough to reveal a jagged scar to the right of his belly button, shiny scar tissue disrupting smooth tan skin. “I did this for Ellie. Now everyone else has to do it for themselves.”

“I don’t…I don’t understand.” You take a small step closer to inspect the wound, raising your hand and reaching out with a tentative touch. Joel inhales sharply as you run your fingers across the puckered flesh. 

His hand wraps around your wrist, pulling your hand up and holding it against his chest. “It’ll be easier to show you, okay? There’s a ceremony in a couple days.”

“I don’t—“

“You’re just afraid because this is somethin’ new, but I promise you that you got nothin’ to be scared of. I’ll take care of you.” He lifts a hand to your face, tilting your chin with his thumb. “I just need you to trust me.”

His eyes are honest, earnest, pleading with you to believe him and the longer you search them, the more truth you seem to find. He will take care of you. You just know it.

“Okay.”

Dinner is served early on the day of the ceremony, the room buzzing with excited conversation. You haven’t seen Joel much the last few days, just passing glimpses, and Ellie says it’s because he has a lot to prepare for. Tonight there’s a woman at his side wearing a white dress that flows to the floor, black hair braided down her back. She smiles at Joel, hanging on every word you can’t hear. It makes your stomach clench in a weird way when her hand curls around his bicep and her head leans against his shoulder.

“That’s Marcy. She’s volunteered for the ceremony,” Ellie says. She’s sitting across from you, a smirk on her lips. “S’why she’s been hanging around Joel the last few days. Joel’s gotta prepare her.”

“Oh,” is all you manage to reply, picking at the vegetables on your plate. “What does…what does he do? To prepare her.”

She shrugs. “Dunno.”

You glance at the pair. Joel leans in close to the woman, whispering into her ear. Your fingernails dig into the meat of your palm, your hands curled into tight fists beneath the table. He stands, a hand on the woman’s shoulder as he calls the people to attention, voices fading until silence envelops the room. 

“Tonight,” Joel says, “another is to be saved. And we will all bear witness to the gift of deliverance that only self-sacrifice can grant.”

It’s only a few words, but the power in them is palpable as you glance around the room at the entire town watching him with rapt attention. His eyes meet yours.

“Save who you can save,” he intones. A chill runs down your spine.

“Save who you can save,” the town echoes back. 

The sun is already low on the horizon, twilight casting a soft glow on the scene. You stand at the back of the crowd, watching as Joel leads Marcy onto a raised wooden platform. Another man joins them, passing something wrapped in cloth into Joel’s outstretched hands. 

“The thing about the world today,” Joel says, unwrapping the cloth to reveal a large knife, “is that there ain’t a single guarantee.” He looks out over the crowd. “Except here, within these walls. Why? Because here you’ll make the greatest sacrifice and earn the greatest reward.”

He begins to pace the length of the platform, knife in hand. “Givin’ your blood in exchange for your safety? That doesn’t sound so bad, right?” The people around you nod their heads in agreement. “You’ve seen what that sacrifice can do. I did it for Ellie. I did it for myself. And tonight—“ he places a hand on Marcy’s shoulder “—another has made the choice to earn that gift of protection.”

A cheer erupts, spreading through the crowd through shouts and applause. You find yourself joining them, clapping your hands together as you continue to watch Joel. 

“Marcy,” Joel says. “What brings you here today?”

“No blood spilled, no blood saved,” she recites dutifully. 

“Are you afraid?” He asks.

“No,” she says.

“Why?”

“Because I trust in your protection.”

Joel smiles at her, beaming with pride, and that knot in your stomach from earlier returns with a vengeance. You want him to look at you like that.

He stands in front of her, blocking her from view with his body. A hush falls over the crowd and from the silence erupts an anguished scream. You flinch, the sound piercing and painful and petrifying, though it seems to have taken nobody else by surprise.

Another scream as he jerks his arm back, the knife in his hand now stained with red that slides down the blade, dripping to the wood beneath his feet. He steps to the side and you can see the woman now, her hands pressed to her belly. Crimson blooms beneath her hands, marring her pretty white dress and leaching the color and vitality from her face. She drops to her knees and so does Joel, who wraps an arm around her shoulders and gently guides her until she’s lying on her back. He holds her hand and smooths her hair from her face as she just repeats, “Thank you.”

Slowly, the strength in her voice fades. Her arm goes limp in his grasp, dropping to the floor with a dull thud as her eyes flutter shut. Joel whistles sharply, three men rushing up the platform and lifting the girl into their arms, careful not to jostle her too much. Joel remains kneeling, his head turning to scan the crowd.

“We are born covered in blood,” he says. “It gives you protection from the outside world when you’re wrenched from the womb. And it will protect you now as it is wrenched from you.”

He steps off the platform and walks past the crowd, heading for the residential street. Everyone shuffles forward, moving en masse like sheep following their shepherd or cattle to the slaughter. You’re led to one of the smaller homes and you watch as Joel smooths the flat of the blade across his hand, gathering blood in his palm. 

He places his palm on the door, smearing the blood across the faded blue paint. When he’s done, he turns to face the crowd.

“Marcy has earned her protection. Those of you among us that have not yet made your sacrifice, may you return home this evenin’ and realize that each passin’ day is a wasted opportunity for your salvation.” His serious expression softens as he smiles. “No blood spilled.”

“No blood saved,” the crowd says.

To your surprise, the words fall easily from your lips.

Joel shuts the door quietly behind him. He’s just finished checking on Marcy and was pleased to find that her wound has been dressed and she’s recovering well. At the kitchen sink he runs the water as hot as he can tolerate and scrubs his hands clean.

He can hear faint footsteps upstairs, the sound of your pacing back and forth in his bedroom. He’s pleased that you stayed through the entire ceremony, didn’t run away filled with fear or disgust like you had watching him make an example out of Michael. 

There’s hope for you yet.

Joel dries his hands on a towel and heads upstairs. He glances at Ellie’s room out of habit, though he knows it’s empty. She likes to help out after the ceremony, usually sticking beside the town nurse, Shelly, as she monitors the person who participated in the ceremony over night. 

The door to his bedroom is shut but he can see that the light is on, the glow of it seeping out from the gap beneath the door. He knocks, three sharp raps of his knuckles, and waits.

You pull the door open, and Joel is once again struck by how much he wants you, how much he’s craved you since the first time he saw you. You look up at him with wide eyes but he doesn’t sense any fear as you pull the door open further and step back to let him enter.

“You doin’ okay?” He asks, shutting the door quietly behind him. You’re standing with your arms wrapped around yourself, nodding quietly. Joel moves closer, tentatively reaching out to tilt your chin up so that he’s looking into your eyes. “Talk to me.”

“I….,” your voice trails off. You take a breath. “I want that protection.”

He was hoping you would say that. Relief floods through him.

“I can’t do that,” he says. Your brows pinch together, hurt flashing across your features. “I won’t have your blood on my hands.”

“But—“

“Listen to me—“ his hands frame your face, thumbs smoothing over the high points of your cheeks “—you’re meant for somethin’ different here.”

“Something different?” You repeat. You shake your head slightly. “I don’t understand.”

“From the moment I saw you, I knew I couldn’t let you lose a drop,” he whispers. “You don’t need to bleed, sweetheart. Not like them. I’ll protect you myself.”

Your mouth drops open the slightest bit, drawing Joel’s gaze. He slides his thumb across your bottom lip, mesmerized by the softness of it. There’s not much about his life the last twenty or so years that he would call soft.

There was his brother, Tommy, even though they couldn’t see eye to eye and had to part ways. His daughter, Sarah, before the outbreak. She took care of him, made sure he took his vitamins and packed his lunch and didn’t miss a parent-teacher conference. She was light and joy, his heart outside of his body, and she was ripped from his grasp.

There was Tess, who was not a soft person but was a soft place to land among the carnage. Bill, ornery though he was, and Frank, arguably his better half. They were a breath of normalcy, even when Bill had a gun trained on him. Ellie, once she quit being a pain in the ass and wormed her way into his heart with her promise to follow him wherever he went.

And now there was you.

“Will you let me do that?” Joel asks. “Protect you?”

You lift your hands, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists. He wonders if you can feel the rapid beat of his heart, his pulse pounding beneath your grip. Finally, after a long moment, you whisper, “Yes.”

Joel captures your lips with his, swallowing your gasp of surprise. You’re tentative, a bit clumsy with your movements as you kiss back and he pulls away, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I-I’m sorry,” you murmur. “I’ve never—“

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

“Don’t worry, baby, I’ll take care of you.”

While his words don’t stop your pulse from racing, they do calm your nerves the slightest bit. It’s not that you’ve never been interested in sex, there was just never a good opportunity. Going through puberty in an apocalypse where a militant government faction monitors your every move in exchange for basic necessities wasn’t exactly conducive to forming intimate relationships. 

While you’re lost in your thoughts, Joel moves you backwards until your legs hit the mattress and he urges you to sit down. He kneels in front of you, working on the laces of your sneakers, removing them and setting them to the side. He looks up at you as he removes your socks and you’re not sure if you're supposed to find the sight of him kneeling at your feet as sexy as you do, but a rush of warmth rolls through you all the same.

He runs his palms up your legs, across your thighs, until his fingertips find the waist of your jeans, popping the button of the fly and pulling the zipper down. 

“Lift your hips a bit, sweetheart,” he says, working the denim down and off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands return to your thighs, goosebumps erupting along their path to your hips. 

“No one’s touched you here?” He asks, here being the soft skin of your inner thigh that his thumbs sweep across. You shake your head. He moves higher, a featherlight touch over the elastic of your underwear that makes you gasp. “What about here?”

“N-no,” you manage to whisper. He smiles at you, the same proud smile he’d given Marcy that you were so desperate to have for yourself. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs. He kisses the inside of your knee quickly before sitting up higher, reaching up to lift your shirt up, tugging it over your head and dropping it onto the growing pile of your clothing.

“Lie back for me,” Joel commands. You shift up the mattress and follow his instruction, bringing your arms up to cover your exposed breasts. He makes a dissatisfied click with his tongue, pulling your arms away as he crawls up the mattress to settle between your legs.

“None of that,” he admonishes, planting your hands by your head. He kisses your lips again, butterflies erupting in your stomach when his tongue tangles with yours, hot and demanding. He palms one of your breasts, hands rough on the delicate skin. “This is mine, do you understand?”

Joel brings his mouth to your breast, tongue swirling over your stiff nipple. You cry out, the foreign sensation making more heat rush through you, leaving you throbbing between your thighs. He looks up at you through his lashes as he sucks your nipple between his lips, releasing it with a lewd pop.

“Mine to touch,” he says, leaning on one arm to trail his fingers down your stomach. “Mine to kiss.” His lips trace the same heated path. “Mine to protect.”

When he reaches your underwear, he pulls back. “Look at that,” he murmurs, thumb rubbing across the gusset, making you whimper and squirm. “You’ve soaked your panties, sweetheart.”

Your face feels hot with embarrassment. “‘M sorry,” you mumble.

“Sorry? Ain’t nothin’ you need to be sorry about,” he says with a chuckle. He sits up, working your only remaining barrier between you down your legs. He spreads your legs with his hands on your thighs. “Goddamn, you look so pretty, baby.”

“Really?” You ask. His answering grin is wolfish. 

“So pretty,” he repeats. He settles on his belly, face so close to your pussy you can feel the warmth of his breath against your heated flesh. “Gotta get you ready.”

Your response to the question is cut off with a high pitched moan as Joel runs his tongue through your folds, circling your clit with broad strokes. You try to close your legs against the sensation but his strong hands keep your thighs pinned down near the mattress.

He groans as he sets a slow and measured pace, alternating attention to your clit with dipping his tongue inside of you, dragging your essence from the source. Your hands clench in the sheets, chasing and retreating from the overwhelming sensation in equal measure.

There’s a blunt pressure that turns into a slight pinch as Joel slips a finger into your tight heat. Your head tilts back with a high keening noise and you’re panting, desperate for breath as he moves his hand in tandem with his tongue.

One finger becomes two that thrust and curl and part inside of you, stretching you in unfamiliar ways. It feels good, and all you want is more, more, more.

Joel’s hand moves quickly and he sucks on your clit, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bundle of nerves until that flood of relief that you’ve only accomplished a handful of times on your own washes over you, your back arching sharply off the mattress as you shout his name like a prayer to the heavens.

His motions slow to a stop and he leaves the bed. You hear the clink of a belt and the rustle of clothing being removed before his weight returns between your legs, a new heat to be felt against your flushed skin with his clothes no longer in the way. With shaky hands you reach up to touch him, starting at his shoulders.

You trail your hands across his warm tan skin, down his hard chest and softer belly. That scar, the one that frightened you before, leaves you breathless as you run your fingers over it now. He’s so strong, so powerful, and he wants you. Wants to protect you so that you don’t know that same pain.

“Joel,” you whisper. He leans forward, hands on the mattress beside your head. He kisses you, slow and all encompassing. You can feel the hard length of his sliding through the mess he’s made of you and you gasp.

“Let me make one thing clear,” he says, face serious, “there ain’t any goin’ back from this. You’re mine. You got that?”

“I trust you,” you reply. Your response earns you a deep groan from the man, a kiss to your forehead that precedes the blunt head of his cock pressing to your soaked entrance.

His cock is thicker, much thicker, than his fingers were and you whine at the intrusion. His shushes you, peppering your face with soothing kisses. 

“I don’t think—“

“You’re doin’ so good, sweetheart, I know you can handle it,” Joel says. “Take a deep breath, just a little more.”

Tension gives way, a sharp pinch that turns into an ache as Joel presses his hips firmly against yours. He kisses your neck and trails his nose across your sweat damp skin, holding still as you adjust to his girth.

You shift your hips the slightest bit and Joel’s moan echoes your gasp. “Tell me I can move,” he begs, another desperate kiss pressed to your lips. “Please, baby.”

There’s something heady about the power you have in this brief moment, a man like Joel begging you for something when he’s used to having everything. You nod and that’s all the encouragement he needs to draw back slowly, that fullness leaving you inch by inch, before thrusting sharply.

It’s unlike any experience you’ve had before — the way his body moves with yours, the flex of his muscles above you, the intense look in his eyes each time he presses inside of you.

“Made for me,” he murmurs. “Mine.”

“Yours,” you agree, moaning as each drag of his cock presses against a tender spot inside of you that has your stomach tightening rapidly.

His effort doubles, hips slamming hard enough to make the headboard bang against the wall. You dig your nails into his back, watch the clench of his jaw against the sting, and moan his name as you succumb to the feeling of free falling into bliss, clenching around his cock.

“That’s it, sweetheart, fuck,” he growls, hips stilling against yours as warmth pulses inside of you, his mouth dropped open on a groan of your name.

Joel takes a moment to catch his breath before withdrawing from you. He reaches his hand between your legs, pressing his fingers into your swollen pussy as you gasp.

He holds those fingers up, the light catching on the red staining them.

Perhaps you’d spilled blood for your safety after all.

You wake to the early morning light filtering through the window, a noticeable ache between your legs as you begin to stir. You’re naked, having fallen asleep in Joel’s arms last night, his lips caressing your neck until you’d drifted off and dreamt of blood and wolves. You stretch your limbs, encountering only cold sheets as you do.

As you sit up, you realize the sound of rushing water is the shower and surmise that Joel must be in there. With stiff movements you leave the warmth of the bed and approach the dresser, tugging open the top drawer to find clothing for the day.

You’re reaching for underwear when your fingers catch on something cold, metal in a sea of fabric. You pull on the object, unearthing it from its hiding spot and holding it up for inspection.

A cross, hanging from a silver chain. A chain you would tangle your fingers in as a child, a cross that a thumb would rub across as a deep, familiar voice muttered prayers.

The shower turns off and you take one last look at the crucifix before setting it back into the dark corner you’d unearthed it from.

Then, you shut the drawer. 

Joel Miller masterlist

All masterlists

[mikanotes]

Hiii

Chishiya x reader that takes place in the first episode (season 2) when the king of spades starts shooting everyone and Chishiya protects reader in his own Chishiya ways 🙏🏻 And they both don’t get in the car with arisu & the others so they go off to find somewhere they can stay. Maybe established relationship & from chishiyas pov

TyTyTy ❤️

— GUNS AND SPADES

chishiya x gn!reader | ? words

genre: established relationship, slight angst

warnings: s2 spoilers, shooting, guns, blood, death, mentions of fainting, kinda spoilers for chishiya’s past, aib stuff… badly written might edit later idk

synopsis: Surviving in the Borderlands was something you’d been forced to get used to. Getting shot at for absolutely no reason when no game was ongoing was something else entirely.

author’s note: thank you for requesting! hope you like it!! to be honest i struggle with writing about chishiya this way a bit so this isn’t nearly as good as i wanted it to be. also i have no idea where i was going with this. nevertheless i hope it’s nice to read!

The sound of shots was clear. People scrambled around Shibuya Crossing, running for their lives without a care for one another’s. When faced with Death, people showed their true selves— Or whatever.

It would seem that, as per usual, your true self in this situation was to start running away before cursing at Chishiya and pulling him so he’d follow. Sure, he would start running eventually either way, but he certainly took his time.

“Chishiya, seriously.” you scoffed.

Thus the run began.

Arisu, Usagi, Kuina, you, and Chishiya were all lined up hiding behind an underground subway’s stairs entrance, crouching behind the wall and checking through the glass for the unknown shooter.

“Is this a game? Where are the rules?” Usagi exclaimed through panicked breaths. Arisu shook his head immediately.

“There’s nothing. This is just mass murder.”

“Seriously.” you mumbled, checking through the glass, “More people are coming this way. We should get moving.”

You all started running away in a group before realizing there was no point. Arisu yelled at everyone to split up and you all did. Running through a crowd of scared people, all confused and fearing for their lives— It was never a good feeling.

“Ah!”

Especially when some were too rushed in their run and tripped over, resulting in you falling along with them.

“I’m sorry!” the man yelled, scrambling to get up.

You laughed dryly, jumping up to your feet with ease. “You should be.” you breathed out, before ducking and running to the nearest corner. You turned and ran and avoided people and ran and it felt like hours of your breathing getting progressively worse and more heavy before you finally ran into a familiar face.

“[name]!” Kuina exclaimed, stopping in her tracks before you two could run into each other, “Come with me!”

She grabbed your wrist and ran to a car nearby, quickly pulling you to sit down behind it along with her. You exhaled a heavy sigh, your chest heaving up and down and your head spinning.

“You look tired.” a familiar voice spoke casually. You lifted your head up only to see Chishiya look at you with an easy smile, waving his hand from his seat on Kuina’s other side. You deadpanned.

“Yeah. And you don’t.” you scoffed, “Are you two okay?”

“I’m surprised I don’t have a single wound, honestly.” Kuina sighed, head hitting the car’s door in exhaustion, “Seriously, what the fuck is going on?“

You glanced at Chishiya and he gave you a slight nod, affirming that he was okay. You nodded back before looking over your shoulder. “There’s people on the other side of the road. Usagi and Arisu, I think.”

Kuina furrowed her eyebrows before moving her head to the side, signaling you to move over and switch places with her. You did, as discreetly as possible, and let her check whatever it is she wanted to. Chishiya waved two fingers in front of your face and brought your attention to him.

“You good?”

“Yeah.” you sighed, “Just tired. I knew things weren’t over but I expected a little break after the hell that went down at the Beach, at least.”

“The hell continues, I guess.” he said casually, smiling.

You could only sigh.

“You have to stay focused if you don’t wanna die!” Kuina suddenly yelled. You looked over to her and jumped at the sound of shooting right at the road the car you were hiding behind was parked on. Chishiya grabbed your shoulder to pull you back when he did, only relaxing when the shots stopped. Kuina scoffed, “Where the fuck are they shooting from?”

Just as she sat back down properly, an airship of sorts appeared over everyone, creating a looming shadow that did nothing to reassure the players. Chishiya hummed. “The King of Spades.”

“Great.” you commented. There were probably hundreds of pieces of fabric tied together to form a giant King of Spades card floating in the sky, attached to the bottom of the airship. You wondered just how much more of this hell you would have to go through before you could return to the comfort of the hell you knew. The normal world.

Chishiya leaned forward and handed Kuina something. It looked like a can and… Oh. You’d seen him make this back at the Beach one day. He’d made three. They were small bombs but they could definitely help out if you ever needed it. His words. He handed you one as well and you inspected it. “Here you go. A good luck charm.”

“What’s this? A bomb?” Kuina asked.

“Use it when you’re in a pinch.” he said casually.

“You have questionable hobbies, Chishiya.” you hummed, spinning the object in your hand before putting it in your jacket, “Thank you.”

“I second that. Thanks.” Kuina chuckled.

The sound of shots rung in the air as well as several running footsteps along with it. You checked Kuina’s side and saw Arisu and Usagi hide behind the car directly next to yours— Just a few meters away. Kuina tilted her head, “Are you hurt?”

“Did you seriously stop to try and save someone?” you followed after glancing at the dying boy they’d seemingly carried all the way there, and Arisu looked at you with wide eyes, before looking away and grimacing. Nothing new, you thought.

Shots fired again but the sound didn’t drown out the clear, loud honking of a car. You thought you’d imagined it, honestly, because logically speaking there was no reason for anyone to not only show themselves so obviously with a moving car but also announce themselves by honking.

Yet when the entire group looked over to the road there was, indeed, a car waiting. Ann and Tatta. Your eyes widened. “What?”

“Hurry up! Get in!” Tatta yelled.

Usagi and Arisu were the first to run into the car, closely followed by Kuina. Chishiya, irritating as he could get, refused to take his hands out of his pockets to run. You were a bit behind, careful, and caught up to him quickly. “What part of hurry up are you missing?!” you exclaimed.

Chishiya stopped and stared at the ground. You were about to question why he wasn’t going into the car despite standing right in front of it but followed his gaze.

A grenade.

“This is bad. Run!” he instantly yelled, pulling you back and moving to start running away, “Get going! Drive!” he told Tatta, knowing there was no point in risking getting into the car anymore.

“[name]!” Usagi yelled.

Kuina seemed just as worried, “Chishiya!”

The sound of their voices were quickly drowned out when your head hit the hard concrete of the sidewalk as you and Chishiya jumped as far away as possible from the bomb. The explosion went off before your senses could start coming back and just as the car started driving away. You covered the sides of your head with your arms and felt Chishiya’s arm wrap around them.

Everything was spinning. For a moment, you weren’t sure you were alive. Then Chishiya’s voice brushed that thought away.

“We have to move.” he tried to speak over all the noise. You nodded faintly and got up on your feet to the best of your ability, before running away with him— Bullets following you closely.

To Chishiya, this would’ve been fine if you hadn’t been there.

If he had been alone during that shooting, even including the part where he fails to get in the car because of a grenade— it would all have been fine because Chishiya Shuntaro is used to dealing with whatever hellish cards the Borderlands hand him. But that’s where the problem lies;

You’re there.

Chishiya met you before the cruelty of the reality of the world stripped him of his empathy— Forced him into the stoicism of a person suppressing their own emotions. He met you before his job ruined a part of him, and his feelings seemingly didn’t waver one bit at that. The importance of your wellbeing had been something he cared about before but even with attempts at erasing his emotions he couldn’t erase the quickening pace of his heartbeat if he heard you weren’t doing well.

Chishiya made the mistake of letting himself fall for someone back in college (though he claims fall is too ridiculous) and now has to deal with the pains of feeling like he needs to protect said person. You were good at dealing with things yourself, too— Sure, but that didn’t mean anything to the instinctive worry that held him by the throat.

So he watches you, unconscious due to the amount of things that happened in a few seconds, lying on the ground of some empty apartment complex— With something anyone could easily mistake as disdain. It used to be easy dealing with complicated things when he was alone. He was also sure playing games would be so much more simple if you weren’t by his side. All he would have to care for would be his own survival and that would just be it. Now he had to fear Heart games and count you into every calculations he made to get himself out of a deadly game of chess.

It was almost infuriating how much you unconsciously forced him into changing his ways, even after all these years. He figured that was just how things went when you loved someone.

When you shift in your sleep and start sighing, eyes slowly blinking to force yourself awake, Chishiya doesn’t feel the smile form on his lips. “You’re lucky we found this place before you decided to pass out.”

“My God.” you grumbled, sitting up with some effort. “Have you just been sitting there? I’m surprised. Were you watching over me, or something?”

Even in situations like this, you just didn’t miss an opportunity to try and tease him. It’s not like it ever worked, but the attempts were amusing.“You weren’t out for that long.” he spoke as calmly as usual, “Sleep fine?”

“I dreamt of fireworks at Shibuya.” you said, and your voice dropped to a silent low. The shift from casual to slight anxiousness was barely noticeable, but very obvious to Chishiya. You cracked your neck and stretched. “Guess my head decided to make people yelling and loud sounds seem more happy than how it really was.”

“At least your mind’s version of the events that just transpired is less disturbing and nightmarish. Glad to know you slept well.” he said, pushing himself up to stand. “We should check the game nearby. I don’t like the idea of us standing there waiting.”

“Less chances of getting shot by that Kind of Spades, I guess.” you sighed, following him to stand up, “Just as many to get killed, though.”

Chishiya held his hand up and you looked at it, then at him, and a small smile pulled at your lips. You high-fived him and then you both wrapped your fingers around the other’s hand.

“Not if I’m there.” he claims, smirking a little. You scoff lightly and Chishiya knows you feel slightly better. It’s enough for now. The feelings of anxiety are pushed back far away enough for you to focus during games. Enough for you to play properly and keep yourself alive. Chishiya nodded a bit, “Let’s get going.”

“Alright.” you tightened your hold on his hand and you both walked towards the game near where you were staying at— Steeling yourselves for whatever the Borderlands had prepared for you.

[librababe99]

Vigilante's Lullaby |Part One|

cw: Red Hood, Gender Neutral Reader, Angst, Mentions of violence, blood, injury, medical procedure, hurt no comfort, dark romance, hurt no comfort word count: 1.9K summary: In the shadows of Gotham’s underworld, you run a clinic that caters to those no one else dares to help. One night, Red Hood stumbles in, bloodied and defiant, refusing assistance despite his wounds. As you force him to stay, a strange, electrifying tension fills the air.

A/N: Hello! Just finished up the final edits to the first part of this new series. For the sake of dramatics I really liked the idea of leaving Jason's identity anonymous and sticking with his alias. Also as of now I'm wanting this to be a four part series but of course that can change! If you'd like to be tagged in the next part just let know <3 As always comments and feedback are greatly appreciated - Libra * .♡ *:･ﾟ✧ ⋆ ࣪.* ࣪.⋆

(DC Masterlist) (Marvel Masterlist)

(Synopsis) (Part Two)

The clinic was a small, dimly lit space tucked away in the decaying heart of Gotham’s underbelly. The walls were cracked and worn, the faded paint peeling in corners no one bothered to care about anymore. Shadows lingered in every corner, as thick as the stench of sweat and antiseptic that clung to the air. It was late—well past the time most sane people would be out in Gotham. But sanity was a luxury in a city like this, and you’d long since learned to live without it.

You leaned over the trembling form of a thug, stitching up the gash in his side with quick, practiced movements. He wasn’t important—just some small-time crook who got into a fight he couldn’t win. It wasn’t your job to ask questions. You weren’t paid for that. People came to you because you never asked why, and you never judged. Criminal, vigilante, or something in between, it didn’t matter. In Gotham, everyone bled the same.

The thug winced, muttering a half-hearted complaint, and you hushed him quietly, focusing on the task at hand. It was routine—just another night in a city that never slept, where violence was a constant companion.

Then the door slammed open, hard enough to rattle the rusting hinges.

You looked up, instincts on edge, fingers stilling mid-stitch. A figure loomed in the doorway, casting a long shadow across the floor. The helmet gave him away immediately—Red Hood. His presence dominated the room, his chest heaving, blood dripping onto the worn floorboards.

"Out," his voice growled, distorted through the modulator in his helmet. It wasn’t directed at you.

The thug on the table scrambled up, clutching his side. He didn’t wait for a second warning. As soon as Red Hood stepped into the room, the thug fled into the night, disappearing into Gotham’s shadows.

The vigilante staggered forward, his movements heavy, labored. Blood soaked through his jacket, staining the dark fabric and leaving a trail of crimson in his wake. His breathing was harsh, his body barely holding itself together, but when you moved toward him, his gloved hand shot up.

“I don’t need your help,” he growled, even though his knees almost buckled from the effort of staying upright.

You stopped short, eyeing him carefully. His wounds were bad. Too bad. He wouldn’t last long in this state, not even in Gotham. But you’d seen his type before. The kind who thought they could muscle through the pain, through death itself, out of sheer willpower. Maybe he had cheated death once, but not tonight. Not like this.

“You’ll die if I don’t patch you up,” you said, voice calm but firm. You weren’t afraid of him. That was important. Red Hood’s entire persona thrived on fear. “Sit down. Now.”

His helmet turned slightly, as if sizing you up. There was tension in the way he held himself, every muscle coiled tight, ready for violence even though his body was betraying him. His fingers twitched like they were ready to reach for his gun. But you stood your ground.

“I’m not going to ask twice,” you added, eyes narrowing. “You won’t make it out of this room if you don’t let me help.”

For a long, painful moment, he didn’t move. The silence stretched, thick with tension. Then, with a sharp intake of breath, he let his hand drop to his side. A begrudging acceptance. He stepped forward and sank into the chair, the weight of his injuries catching up to him.

You didn’t hesitate. Moving quickly, you grabbed your supplies and knelt beside him, carefully peeling back his jacket to expose the wound. The gash across his side was deep, and there were other cuts and bruises littering his body, evidence of a fight he barely survived.

As you worked, the room fell into a tense quiet, broken only by the sound of his labored breathing. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the mix of blood and sweat clinging to his skin. Your fingers brushed against his flesh, the contact sending an unexpected jolt through you. The air between you seemed to grow heavier with each passing moment, thick with something unspoken.

He watched you from behind the mask, his eyes hidden but his presence palpable. You didn’t flinch, didn’t show any reaction to the violence he wore so plainly on his skin. You’d seen worse, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of thinking he unsettled you. Still, there was something in the way he sat so still now, the way his body surrendered to your touch, that made the space between you feel... electric.

“You don’t ask questions,” Red Hood said after a while, his voice low, almost conversational now. There was a hint of something behind his words, like he was testing you. “Everyone else does.”

“I’m not everyone else,” you replied simply, not looking up from his wounds as you stitched them closed with quick precision.

He made a noise, somewhere between a grunt and a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “No. I guess you’re not.”

Your hands lingered for a moment longer than necessary as you finished up, the tips of your fingers brushing against the edge of his skin. His body tensed slightly, and you could feel the air shift between you. There was a moment—brief, almost imperceptible—where Red Hood’s guard dropped. His gaze softened behind the mask, as if for just a second, he was letting you see past the armor. Past the walls he had built so high.

But then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Red Hood stood abruptly, wincing as he moved, pulling his jacket back into place. He didn’t say thank you—he wasn’t the type. He didn’t have to. The way his eyes lingered on you, just for a heartbeat longer than they should have, told you everything.

“Don’t expect me to come back,” he muttered as he made his way to the door.

You didn’t respond. You didn’t have to.

He disappeared into the night, and you stood in the quiet aftermath, staring at the blood he left behind on the floor. Something about that encounter stuck with you. It was more than just another wounded vigilante passing through your clinic. It felt like the start of something darker. Something deeper.

A week passed, and you tried not to think about him.

But Gotham had a way of bringing people back into your life whether you wanted them or not. The nights were long, the clinic busy as always, but a part of you found yourself glancing at the door more than you cared to admit. You told yourself it was just a matter of curiosity—nothing more.

Until he returned.

This time, Red Hood didn’t burst in with the same dramatic entrance. He slipped through the door quietly, his presence immediately recognizable despite the effort he seemed to make to go unnoticed. He was wounded again, though not as badly as before. His jacket was torn, blood staining his side, but his steps were more measured, less desperate.

You raised an eyebrow as he stepped into the light, crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”

His lips twisted into something like a smirk, though there was no humor behind it. “Didn’t have a choice.”

Without waiting for your response, he sat down in the chair again, wincing as he moved. You took a deep breath, grabbing your supplies once more. This time, there was less urgency, but the tension between you had only grown in his absence. As you worked, the silence stretched again, but it wasn’t the same. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air.

“You live like this every night?” you asked after a while, breaking the quiet. “Bleeding all over the city?”

He chuckled, though it was dark and hollow. “It’s Gotham. Bleeding’s part of the job description.”

You glanced up at him, instinctively drawn to where his eyes should be beneath the mask, though you still couldn’t see them. The white lenses covering his eyes remained in place, a barrier between the two of you, preventing you from truly seeing the man beneath. But you could feel his gaze on you, sharp and unwavering, as if he were studying you just as closely.

There was always something about that mask—how it made him unreadable, cold, distant. Yet, in moments like this, when the tension in the room grew thick, you could feel the weight of emotions hidden behind it. The silence stretched on for a beat too long, the sound of your steady breathing filling the space as you tried to ignore the electric pull between you.

“And what job is that, exactly?” you asked, your tone carefully measured. You couldn’t let your curiosity get the better of you, but the question slipped out before you could stop it.

He hesitated for a brief moment, his head tilting slightly as if considering his answer, though the visor obscured any hint of where his gaze fell. "Righting wrongs. Settling scores," he finally said, his voice low and cold. "Call it whatever you want."

The cold finality in his voice sent a shiver down your spine. He wasn’t just talking about Gotham’s criminals. No, there was something more personal in his words. He was talking about himself—his own demons, his own darkness.You didn’t push further. It wasn’t your place, and you knew better than to pry into the shadows he carried. But it didn’t stop you from feeling the weight of it, the sheer force of the rage and pain he carried with him.

“I’ve seen plenty of people come through here with wounds like yours,” you said softly, focusing back on the gash you were stitching up, your hands steady despite the tension in the air. “They usually don’t last long. This city eats people alive.”

His head tilted slightly, and though you couldn’t see his eyes, you felt the intensity of his attention shift back to you. For a moment, the air felt heavier, thicker. His voice, when he finally spoke again, was low, rough. “I’m not most people.”

You couldn’t help the small, bitter smile that tugged at your lips. “No. I guess you’re not.”

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable. In fact, it felt charged, like standing on the edge of something dangerous. There was always something about him that made you feel that way, as though you were staring into an abyss and contemplating whether to jump. Maybe you were a danger to each other, a collision waiting to happen.

When you finished patching him up, your fingers lingered, the soft brush of your skin against his as you pulled the gauze into place. This time, he didn’t flinch, didn’t pull away. Instead, he remained still, the air between you crackling with something unspoken.You glanced up at him again, meeting the featureless gaze of his mask, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t see his eyes, but you could feel them on you, feel the tension simmering beneath the surface.

Something was happening between you two—something inevitable, dangerous, and completely out of your control.

Without a word, he stood, pulling his jacket back over his bandaged torso. The movement was sudden, almost abrupt, as if he needed to break the moment before it went any further. He didn’t say goodbye. Didn’t offer any words of gratitude or reassurance.

But you knew he’d be back.

Even as he left, the heavy door of your clinic closing behind him, the presence of him lingered in the room—dark, dangerous, and unmistakably powerful. The pull between you both was undeniable, and you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening between you was far from over.

And it was only a matter of time before that tension snapped.

[nnaviee]

Hey Navie! (idk if its weird to use your name lol) I was wondering if you'd do a Natasha Romanoff x Fem reader? Maybe about a prank? I love pranks that have angst and then end in fluff so so much. I also love reading different writers' takes on a prank. If you don't like it that's totally fine. Love ya!! :3

seemingly harmless-natasha romanoff x fem!reader

“Любовь моя” = my love

warnings: guns, swearing, i think that’s it?

words: 3k

———————————————————————————

you slowly turned your key in the lock, opening the door to her apartment. you entered cautiously as you took in your surroundings. dark, and quiet. you had just come back from a mission, a long one. you were excited to see your girlfriend, but also felt like a prank was in order.

you slowly crept down the hallway and slowly opened her bedroom door, taking a moment to admire her peaceful, sleeping form. nobody ever really saw such a vulnerable side of her, yet you were one of the few select people who were given the privilege.

you’d seen a lot together, and you’d seen every side of each other. you made your way around the bed, pulling the sharpie you brought out of your pocket as you leaned next to the bed. you carefully lifted her arm, you had barely begun to write your name on her skin before you felt her jolt awake.

the next thing you knew, you were pressed against the wall, natasha standing behind you with a gun to your head. you knew she kept one near the bed, but this was not the outcome you expected from this seemingly harmless joke.

“nat! nat, please. it’s me.” you cried out without thinking, squeezing your eyes shut as they filled with unshed tears. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to scare you.” you felt her grip on your arm loosen slightly as she slowly came back to reality.

she let go of your arm, turning you around to look at your face. “jesus fucking christ! where did you- when did you get home?” she was out of breath, the incident making her chest rise and fall rapidly as she processed what happened in her half-awake moment of adrenaline.

“about an hour or so ago…i think.” you were equally out of breath, your wide eyes flitting down to the weapon she still held in her white-knucked grip. she followed your gaze, looking down and quickly scrambling to put it away.

“god, i’m so sorry. i thought you…” she trailed off, lightly holding your fingers as she looked down between you. “i’m sorry.” she whispered it, barely audible. you reluctantly squeezed her fingers back, leaning your head down slightly to look at her.

“i’m sorry, too. i shouldn’t have snuck up on you like that. are you…you know, okay?” you reached a hand up to tuck a hair behind her ear as she slowly lifted her head to look at you. “i’m not the one who just had a gun to my head.” she choked out the words. “love, are you okay?” she brought a hand up and cupped your cheek, lightly tracing her thumb back and forth.

you inhaled and exhaled slowly, shaking slightly. “yeah. i’m alright. i’m tired, though.” you held her hand as your other hand rested on her shoulder. she looked at you, her eyes showing every ounce of guilt and disbelief she felt.

“let’s go to bed. the gun is safely put away, i promise.” she said slowly as she walked backwards, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling you to sit next to her. you both sat on the edge of the bed, your hands interlocked. you leaned your head on her shoulder. “i’m sorry i scared you, nat.”

she brought a hand up, running it through your hair. “i would never intentionally hurt you. you know that, right?” you wrapped your arms around her waist and pulled her close to you as you buried your head in the crook of her neck.

“i know.” you whispered as both laid down, finding solace in each other’s arms as you settled beneath the covers. you rested your head on her chest and she continued to play with your hair. your breathing began to sync with hers as the two of you lay in comfortable silence. “i love you so much, Любовь моя.” she whispered into the quiet room.

“i love you more.” you responded as you closed your eyes and settled in closer to her, both of you drifting off to sleep.

———————————————————————————

A/N: ty so much for reading and suggesting!!! i hope yall enjoyed this. like i said, i’m pretty out of practice when it comes to writing things other than plays or poems, so this might be lowkey terrible lmao. also i’ll usually be writing in lowercase bc i’m too lazy to turn my autocaps on.

<3, navie.

[sarahs-secrets2]

Gotcha! ˋ♡ˊ

leon kennedy x reader! (any leon you desire!!)

maybe laser tag wasn't the best idea for a date night...

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

ZAP!  The plastic light-up vest illuminated a bright blue, vibrating slightly. You had been hit. 

“Gotta be quicker next time.” Well aware you were on a thirty-second cool down after being shot, Leon chuckled walking out from behind a wall. He held the laser gun like it was real, never letting his guard down. “Remember this date was your idea,” Leon laughed as he jogged off into a new hiding spot. 

Defeat was putting how you felt, lightly. You thought a laser tag date would be cute, something fun to get you both out of the house. Wrong. Seemingly you had completely forgotten that; 1) Your boyfriend was professionally trained in combat and how to use a firearm, which both skills had seamlessly transferred to laser tag, and 2) how competitive he got. 

“Leon,” your voice echoed through the dark maze-like room. You were ready to wave the white flag, get some ice cream, go home, and maybe even watch a movie. Laser tag had been fun for all of five minutes before Leon started treating it like one of his missions. “Leon, I’m ready to go home,” still no answer. Glancing at the mini screen on the plastic gun the neon green writing flashed back your stats, Rank 2 out of 2. Who would've guessed?

With Leon still hiding, you began to wander around hoping to find him before he found you (or before the match ended). Having nothing to lose at this point, you decided to get some high ground and walked up the ramp to the second level. Still no sign of Leon. This place wasn't even that big yet he still managed to be undetectable. 

Walking over to the edge, you peered over the wall trying to see if Leon was even in the building anymore. Your eyes scanned the room, trying to spot him amidst the random colored lights and abundance of corners to hide in. Finally, there he was. Leon was running and leaning up against walls, surveying the area, and then running to a different wall as he tried to find you. Stifling a giggle, you crouched down so he wouldn't spot you. Balancing the laser gun on the ledge, holding your breath as you aimed, and crossing your fingers, you pulled the trigger.

ZAP! Leon’s vest illuminated bright red.

“Gotcha!” You shouted from the second floor, jumping out and down from excitement. Leon looked dumbfounded, how did you even get up there without him noticing? You made your way back down to the main floor where Leon stood still trying to figure out the logistics of how you got him. “Guess you just have to be quicker next time babe,” repeating his words back to him you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. 

Right on cue, the lights flickered on and the crackly loudspeaker directed you to the exits. Leon threw his arm around your shoulders pulling you close as the two of you walked out together, “Maybe I need to take some pointers from you next time,” he smiled. Your head nuzzled into his chest, feeling very accomplished despite your screen still reading, Rank 2 out of 2.

₊°✧︡ ˗ ˏ ˋ ♡ ˎˊ ˗

[specialagentlokitty]

Master chief x reader - shapeshifters fear

Looking at the man in front of you, your heart pounded in your chest, you cradled your injured arm as you felt the blood running through your fingers.

“John…” you whispered.

“My orders are to bring you in.”

“John don’t do this please… you know I’m not a treat…”

“My orders are clear. You are to be tried as a threat to reach, and for lying on your application forms when you applied to be a marine.”

You quickly shook your head.

“I’m not lying! I swear! They asked if I had any contact with a list of certain species and I didn’t!”

“You’re one of them!” He hissed.

“That’s doesn’t mean I’m in contact with them!”

“Then come in without a fight, answer the questions and maybe they’ll just give you time in prison.”

“I’ll be executed.”

He aimed his gun, and you took an unsure step away from him.

“John please… please I’m begging you…”

“Get on your knees, hands behind your head.”

You shook your head.

“John they’ll kill me…”

“I’ll talk with them, but you need to come in peacefully for me to be able to convince them.”

“Do you think that’s going to work?! You saw what they did to that man last week! I never did anything I swear!”

“Stand down.” He said.

You looked around for something, anything to help, and you saw a few barrels nearby but you had to act quickly.

You gave John a small smile, and you shook your head.

“I’d rather die.”

With that, you sprinted away, hearing a bullet go flying past your head.

All you had to do was get somewhere public, get lost in the crowd and go from there.

So all you had to do was get to the bottom of this building, which wasn’t an option with all the marines down there so you went up instead.

John was shouting your name as you ran, running over to the roof, then to the next one, and you jumped down a fire escape, running down the stairs.

You had the advantages of speed, and they knew that, if they lost sight of that then it would be over and you would be lost.

Ducking under the arm of a marine, you jumped down the rest of the way, rolling and you ran into the busy street below.

Weaving in and out of people, down to the subway where more people were and on to the tracks.

It wasn’t safe, but there were hiding places, empty tunnels that weren’t used anymore, so you made your way into one of them.

Creeping around, you crouched against a wall.

“I need help…” you whispered.

You knew they were here, it’s where the hid, and all of your species knew that there were a few who hid under the city for moments like this.

You heard some steps, and you looked to the side at the eyes peering back at you.

“Where to?”

“Just away from here.”

“Very well. Come with me.”

You were quickly taken away from the city, taken away from everything you knew, and taken somewhere else.

A different planet was all you knew, you were placed in a small and quiet town and given a home to share with somebody.

You were constantly on edge though, everytime a ship came in you were ready to run for it, and today was no different.

You were standing outside with the others watching as a ship landed, and you slowly began backing away through the ground when you recognised it.

“(Y/N)!” You friend hissed.

“I need to go.” You whispered back.

They glanced at you, then back to the ship, and you watched as the Spartans came out, two of them going to speak to the mayor.

You turned around, keeping your head down as you walked away, but you were fully aware that you were being followed.

“Stop running.”

You broke out into a sprint, jumping over a fence you ran through a field, and John nearly lost you in the tall grass.

You had changed, but he could see where you ran from the grass, and he began to track you.

You ran through the fields, heading for the mountains, John wasn’t far behind you.

“(Y/N)!” He shouted.

He could see the gleam of your fur in the sun just before you entered the trees.

You kept running, trying anything to get away from him, he was fast, you were slightly faster, if you could find a place to hide and lay low you would win.

While running, you could hear him shouting your name as you kept going, and you kept trying to get away from him.

Finding a wooden bridge, you dug your paws into the ground, coming to a halt and you covered the tracks with dirt, then crawled under it.

You listened carefully to the sound of his steps coming closer.

“(Y/N)!?”

You could hear him on the wooden bridge walking around, then you heard him stop.

“I’m not here to hurt you or arrest you.”

He looked around, and you slowly backed up from the way you were going, crawling towards the other side of the bridge to get out.

You quietly made your way out, and you stood up, turning your go back the way you came from and John was in front of you.

“We know you had nothing to do with the attack, you’ve been cleared.”

You slowly began backing away and he rose his hands.

“No, no don’t.”

John reached up, taking his helmet off and he slowly knelt down, placing it on the ground, his eyes studying you.

“Please don’t be scared of me…” he whispered.

He reached out and you turned your head away, a little unsure and he paused.

“I’m sorry…”

You backed away even more, and then ran back the way you had come from.

John kept coming back when he could, each time you would run away from him, and after a few months you had thought he had given up.

But he hadn’t, he arrived again just like every other time out of uniform, and he walked over to where you were standing in your front garden.

You began backing away.

“I know you’re going to runaway, but I have something for you.”

He slowly reached his hand into his pocket and pulled something out, setting it down on the floor, then he backed away.

“I’ll be here for a few hours until the last ship goes back to reach.”

With that he walked away and you walked over to pick up what he had left.

It didn’t seem like much, just an ordinary hologram, but when you opened it you saw it was a picture of you he had taken when you were trying to teach him new skills.

You loved that memory, just you and him, learning different things and just having fun.

You turned it off, putting it in your pocket, and you went back to what you were doing.

John didn’t wonder too far, he stayed nearby, hoping maybe you would come and talk to him, but you didn’t seem to show any interest in it.

You knew he was still there nearby, and after a while of ignoring him you nervously approached him.

John looked at you as you walked over, but you seemed a little bit nervous, and possibly scared.

“Will you come back?” He asked.

You shook your head.

“It’s not safe for me there…”

“It is, I promise. We had you cleared of all chargers and they’ll reinstate you.”

“So what? I can be blamed again when a shifter does something wrong?”

“No. So you can come back.”

You shook your head.

“I’m not coming back, stop coming here.”

You went to walk away and John shot forward, taking your hand and he walked around you.

“I miss you…” he mumbled.

You stayed quiet, and you looked at his hand that was still holdings yours, and you noticed is bruised knuckles.

“You should be more careful…”

John sighed.

“I’m sorry… I should have done more to protect you… to stand up for you…”

“People don’t trust me, that’s okay…”

“It’s not. I trust you. I know you would never do anything like that, but I was made to follow orders, I should have questioned them but I did. And now I’ve ran you away…”

You sighed slightly.

John took your arm, and he ran his thumb along the scar going across it, from where you had hurt yourself trying to get away from him.

“I made you scared of me…”

John leant down, kissing the top of your head.

“I really am sorry…”

With that he let go, and he made his way back down the street.

“I’m not scared of you…”

He stopped.

“I guess I’m just… I’m scared it’ll happen again…”

He turned around and walked over over, taking your face between his hands.

“If it does I’ll be right by your side I promise…”

“You’ll have to follow orders.”

“I don’t care. I will stand by you.”

“John…”

“I love you.”

You blinked a little in shock.

“I love you.” He repeated.

John leant down, brushing his lips against yours before he pulled away.

His eyes searched yours and you sighed a little bit, tucking your head under his chin because you couldn’t stay away from him.

You had always felt safer with him, and right now you felt safest in his arms standing there.

John held you tightly, a hand on the back of your head.

He knew it was going to take a while to get you to feel safe enough to come back to reach, and if that meant he had to keep going back that’s what he was going to do.

He has screwed up big time, now he had to make it up to you

[darkbluekies]

AHHH JUST GOT ANOTHER REQUEST! silas with a crackhead gen z s/o.This guy would be so fking confused.😭😭

Silas:walk out of that front door and I'll break your legs👿👿.

s/o:*uses the open window besides the door instead and casually walks away*

Silas texting:WHY ARE YOU NOT HOME YOUR GONNA GO THROUGH HELL IF YOU DON'T COME BACK.

S/o: You're* dumbass and proceeds to ignore the calls from this dumb af guy.

first anon (im sorry but i thought this was funny 😭😭)

[Do you want to break him??? Congrats, you succeeded 😭]

Not a joking matter

Mafia!yandere OC x reader

Summary: you decide to pull a stunt on Silas while you are fighting, which causes him to go insane with fury. He promises himself to make sure you never dare to do it again.

Warnings: yandere content, mentions of killing, guns, threats, isolation punishment, Stockholm syndrome, Silas who can't take a joke, manipulation

Word count: 1.5k

Normally, you wouldn’t dare fight with Silas. It only gave you consequences you couldn’t bear. Besides, just giving in and listening to him makes your world turn easier. But some days, things get too much and your anger bubbles out. This has led you and Silas to argue down by the front door about his jealousy.

“I’m literally done!” you scoff out. “You’re insane, this is insane! I’m leaving!”

“If you walk out through that door, I’m breaking your legs”, Silas warns you with his arms over his chest. “Don’t test me, little thing.”

You give him a long stare before opening the window next to the door and jumping out. Silas gaze darkens as he watches you walk away. How dare you?

“What are you doing, boss?” one of his men asks with a shaking voice. “Are you just going to let them leave?!”

“They will be back soon”, Silas says through gritted teeth. “They can’t survive without me. And when they return, they’ll go back into the basement until they apologize sincerely.”

“And if they don’t come back, boss?”

“Then they’ll regret it.”

You walk along the road, cursing Silas for living out in the middle of the fucking forest. You’re not even wearing shoes! Why did you walk out like that? Well, at least you’re free. Right? This has to be worth it. You have to show Silas that you mean business … he can't treat you like that.

You reach the nearest city after an hour of walking. You're sure you've destroyed one skinlevel by now. No blood has been drawn yet, but your skin is ripped and dirty. You sink down by the side of the road, next to a coffee shop. Now what? You don't have any money … only your cell phone. Silas IT master has blocked the phone from calling any other number than Silas.

It buzzes. You look down and see a message from him.

"WHY ARE YOU NOT HOME?? YOUR GOING TO GO THROUGH HELL IF YOU DON'T COME BACK, DO YOU UNDERSTAND THAT?"

You shouldn't do it — it's childish — yet you do it. Your fingers tremble as you type the message back, but you can't help but snicker for yourself.

"You're*"

If only you could see his face once he receives the message. Silas, on the other hand, throws his phone at the wall once he gets your little fun text. He calls you, but you don't answer. He calls again … and again … and again. Same automatic voice telling him to try again later.

"This little shit, I swear to God-" he growls before grabbing his car keys. "I'm going to get them, I don't fucking care. They'll be sorry. Who the fuck do they think they are? Seriously? Fucking brat.”

“What are you going to do, boss?” the same man as before asks.

“If Y/N wants to act like a shitty, little brat, then I’ll treat them like one.”

He rips open the door and walks out to his black sports car. You might be his darling, but this car is his baby. Although he doesn’t know where you are, he has an idea. There's not a lot of places you could have gone to. You're not stupid enough to run into the forest, you'll have followed the road. You can't have gotten too far. He'll find you.

He notices that you're not on the road.

"These little legs were faster than I thought", he mumbles. "Just wait til I get my hands on you."

He drives into the small city, looking around. A smirk creeps up on his face once he sees you sitting on the sidewalk. He parks the car right in front of you and jumps out. His anger turns into some weird adrenaline kick once he sees your terrified eyes. He will punish you, don't you worry … but first he wants to play.

"Either you get in the car now or I'll make you", he says with one hand resting inside of his jacket, on his gun. "I'll blow this place up."

You know Silas, and you know what he keeps in his pocket. You know he's not lying. Suddenly, incapable of moving, paralyzed in fear, you shake your head desperately. Silas smiles.

"Boom", he says, forming his mouth to an 'O'.

"No, please", you whisper.

"Yes? If you say so …"

He's about to pull put the gun. You finally manage to move your limbs and shoot up from the sidewalk, stopping his hand.

"Silas, don't", you beg.

"But you wanted to be bratty and not do what I said", he pouts and gives you puppy dog eyes. "It's not more than fair that I get to play too?"

"Silas, people will get hurt if you do that."

"People could have gotten hurt by your stunt too. If I wouldn't have found you …" He moves closer until you can feel his breath against your face. "... I'd killed all of my men."

You shiver and give him a horrified glance.

"Y/N, get in the car now", Silas tells you seriously, no longer in the mood to play games.

And you do.

"Y/N, I want you to know something", Silas says as he starts driving away. "You only 'escaped' today because I let you. The only reason you're still alive is because I went to get you. You should be happy that I love you because what would you have done without me? You have no money, your phone — which you should be grateful I gave you — only works for my number … you aren't even wearing shoes!"

Your head slumps. You shouldn't feel so guilty, you shouldn't start to cry … but you do.

"I could have left you", Silas continues. He won't stop until you've broken down completely. "I could have forgotten about you and moved on, find somebody that actually appreciates what I do for them and is grateful for my love. But I went back for you because I love you."

He has noticed that you've started crying in the seat next to him, but he isn't done.

"People could have died today and it'd be all your fault", Silas says.

"Stop!" you shout and cover your ears with your hands. "I get it! I'm sorry!"

"I'm not sure you do, baby. That's why you'll spend a little while down in the basement once we get home. Just to make sure this won't happen again."

You want to protest, but his gaze makes you shrink to the size of an ant. Yu're already six feet down, no need to do yourself any further.

When you get back to his house, he pulls you with him down to the basement and chains you before saying a word.

"Silas, I'm really sorry", you sob. "I'll never do it again. Please don't leave me here.'

"You've acted like a complete brat, baby. My partner is an adult, not a damn child, do you get that?"

"Yes!"

"Good. I will see you in a while."

"No, Silas, please!" you shout. "Don't leave me here!"

You hear the door to the ground floor, leaving you in pitch black darkness. You sob out into the emptiness and hug your legs, burying your face into your knees.

You don't know how much time passes by. You have no idea how long time you've been down here, all you know is that your growling stomach stopped making sounds a long time ago. It doesn't hurt anymore … although it should. Your body must have gone numb because you can't feel anything. Or you've died. That's at least what you tell yourself. You no longer live and will never feel anything else ever again. This basement works wonders on the brain.

The door from the ground floor creaks. You look up, seeing how Silas come walking down. Your body fills with electricity. He came back!

"Hey, baby", he says and squats down in front of you.

"Silas …", you say quietly, tasting the name, seeing if he can hear you. Seeing if you're alive.

"Yes?"

A wave of relief flows through you. Your hands start reaching out for him, needing to hold onto something to fully convince you that you're still real.

"Careful, baby", Silas says softly and stops your hands. "I have to remove the chains first."

Impatiently, you wait for him to unlock the heavy metal keeping you to the ground. As soon as you feel the weight lifting, you throw yourself at him, locking your arms around his neck and hiding your face into his warm shoulder. He chuckles and wraps his strong arms around you in return.

"Eager to see me?" he smiles right by your ear.

You don't answer. You're happy to see someone. It just happens that this someone is Silas.

"Do you want to come upstairs now?" he asks.

You nod against his shoulder.

"You're not going to be a bratty little shit anymore?" he asks.

You shake your head.

"And you won't pull a childish stunt?" he asks.

You shake your head. Your humor doesn't work on him and you learned that the hard way.

"Very well then, let's go", Silas says and stands up, pulling you up with him.

You wrap your legs around his torso and keep your arms in place. You can hear him purr like a cat. Silas always gets what he wants. He always wins.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Drabble Roulette: You made your bed

For this round, drabbles are written based on a random choice of character and image from this pinterest board. Pls feel free to keep adding to it.

Character: William "Ironhead" Miller

Prompt

Warnings: this drabble includes elements such as mentions of violence, stealing, and death. Please mind these warnings and take care.

Explicit, 18+. Please reblog and leave some feedback.

The motel has that smell to it. They all do. The furniture is outdated but what can you expect with burnt out neon sign and cash payment.

You don’t have a choice. This is where you’ll be for the night. The gun barrel jabbing under your shoulder blade urges you inside as the man behind you breathes down your back. He doesn’t have to order you inside as you break the threshold without a word. 

He pokes you away from him with the nuzzle and you march ahead. He snaps the door shut behind him and you wince, instinctively moving to cross your arms. He growls. 

“Hands up,” he grits. 

You obey and face him. He looks you up and down as he holsters the gun. His blue eyes are cold as ice. 

“Whatever you think I did--” 

“I know what you did,” he insists. “Real clever, little girl.” 

You look down and shrug. It’s not the first time you’ve been in trouble but the police will let you go for a cut. The people you steal from aren’t so easy to bargain with.  

“Gotta survive somehow--” 

“Survive?” He scoffs, “I’m sure my buddies will understand that. You’re just scraping the bottom of the bin, aren’t you? A mil sure isn’t just enough to survive.” 

“I found it,” you insist. That’s true. You did find the bag, it just happened to be after some very intentional scouting. 

“Sure, the fuck you did. Sit down.” 

He points to one of the beds. You huff and approach the one near the back wall. You glance over at the box television then at the wrinkled bedspread. You turn and sit heavily so the springs squeak. 

“You got it back though,” you argue. 

“Don’t act so precious with me, sweetheart.” 

You watch him dully as he unzips his jacket and peels it off. He lets out a grunt as he pushes his head to one side then the other. His joints crack loudly. 

“Maybe if you hadn’t run, I’d think about it,” he growls. 

“What was I supposed to do? What would you do?” 

“Not steal from dangerous fucking men,” he barks, “trained men. Do you know what I could do to you?” 

You inhale and touch your bruised ribs. You’re more than aware. His gaze follows the subtle movement. He scoffs. 

“That was me playing nice.” 

“If you’re just taking me wherever to kill me, then you shouldn’t waste all this time. Just do it.” 

“Don’t play brave. I know you’re scared.” 

“Yeah, I am. So that’s it. You and your buddies get off on it. You gonna use that training to draw it out. Over a fucking bag.” 

He snorts and shakes his head, “you’re real fucking cute. I gotta give it to ya, you’re holding it together but...” he pauses and looks down.

His stretches his fingers wide and the veins in his arms bulge. He turns his palms up and closes his fists. He considers his arms closely.

“I promised them I’d bring the culprit back. Alive...” he tilts his head as he looks up, “as long as you’re still breathing...” 

You tense and fold your hands in your lap. You gulp. 

“Got it. No way out.” 

He stares at you. He doesn’t move or speak. Your heart races wildly at the ice in his gaze. 

“Gotta shower. We got a long way to go.” 

He strides around the other bed and past the one you sit on. He snaps his fingers. You wince and look over your shoulder as he stops by the darkened doorway. 

“You think I’m stupid, get the fuck in here,” he snarls. 

You look forward again and steel yourself. Your adrenaline pumps hotly as you make yourself stand. You shuffle around to him as he reaches inside to flick on the tinged light. He stands against the frame to let you past. You stagger as he swings his large hand against your ass. 

“You can wash my back,” he taunts as he groans and you see him roll his shoulder in the mirror. “Think I pulled something beating your ass.” 

[cry4mina]

Take Me Back To Eden - Are You Really Okay? - Part 6.5

(Mina x gn!reader)

Take Me Back To Eden Series Page

Word Count: 7k

Angst/Fluff/I don’t know what to call this

Summary: This takes place at the end of place after reader passes out in Part 6! Please read that for context! This is also in FIRST PERSON (gasp!) from Mina’s perspective! See what Mina sees at the end of *THE* scene and some of the consequences of Nayeon’s actions.

TW: Guns, violence, abuse, sex/mentions of sex, medical stuff and lemme know if I miss anything! (I so did)

A/N: We are experimenting a little bit on this one with first person pov! Thank you to @2wiceasnice9 for making these gifs for this! I appreciate it very much 🖤

Thank you guys for reading as always! Ask/Dms always open! 🖤 Love yall, have a great day!

—

“Nayeon, you can’t do this!” Oh my god, she’s really going to shoot me. Y/n is on the floor bleeding out right in front of both of us and she’s going to fucking shoot me?!

Panic ices my veins as Nayeon opens her mouth to reply. Tears are filling my eyes and I can’t seem to blink them away fast enough. I hear Nayeon hit the floor, shouting out and the gun skidding out of sight.

Nayeon’s rage is heard but no longer seen, the sounds of struggling bouncing off the walls from behind the desk. Hearing Y/n’s grunts of pain make me nauseous and panicky. A hefty sinking feeling that weighs me down, physically trying to slow me while I come up with a plan to stop everything around me.

If I want to put a stop to this, I need that gun.

Now.

Seeing a glint from the metal on the edge of the room against a baseboard, I race over to pick it up.

In my race to turn around I see Y/n getting the shit beat out of them on the ground. Nayeon gets up, scanning the floor to try and find the gun that was already in my hands.

I don’t want to do this! God, I really don’t want to fucking do this! Deep breath in, exhale slowly, finger around the trigger and…

The shot louder than any sound I’ve ever heard, reverberating the ache in my heart harder as the scene before me unfolds in slow motion and deafening silence. Nayeon mouth opens and face turns red, reflecting anguish when her knees hit the floor. She coddles her abdomen, mask contorting from hatred, to pain in the blink of an eye.

I drop the gun and immediately run over to Y/n. She’s bleeding all over the floor, I cup the back of her head to try and halt the loss of her life force but I’m so worried it’s already been too much spilled, the puddle of blood growing larger with passing seconds.

Y/n is so disoriented, I can barely catch her attention. Pulling her head into my lap, trying to talk to her to keep her here but she keeps looking at me with fluttering eyes. I can’t even hear my own voice, crying out for her without even an echo in my head.

I can’t hold myself together anymore, my tears start to fall endlessly down my cheeks. I can’t lose her. Even in such a short time, I’ve grown to truly care for this human that lays in my lap, bruised and bloodied.

The look of hope beaming through her eyes in an attempt to focus on me. My heart cracks just a little more. Someone had to have heard the gunshots. Someone had to call for help, right?

“Y/n! Y/n! Look at me, it’s going to be okay! We are going to get you ou-”

A heavy jolt of pressure slams into my chest.

Air ripped from my lungs at a pace that’s indescribable.

Unable to even hear my heart beating in this deafening silence, my eyes water and my breathing tries to regulate but hyperventilating was the only response my body had.

I look up and see Nayeon with her hand over her wound, slouched in the corner of the room with the gun pointed right at me.

At…me?

Y/N’s body starts to vibrate in my arms, I look down for a split second to see them screaming in agony. The thick crimson liquid drips down my torso rapidly when it registers what’s happened. That’s where the burn starts. A stinging, fiery, gut wrenching blaze of panic that drench the tension in something that can only be explained as pure terror. Nausea and sweat are immediate following the outpour of blood.

My breathing picks up rapidly, my body finally catching up with my brain and trying to save itself. I keep my hand on the back of Y/n’s head, and bring my other up to cover my own wound. Watching as Nayeon keeps her eyes on the scene unfolding, a grimace on her face when Y/n passes out in my arms.

“Mina, you should be happy!” mockingly loud, spat at me through the ringing of my ears.

“At least she won’t have to watch you suffer!” Nayeon brings the gun back up, pointing it right in my line of sight before her head swings to her right and she locks eyes with something behind me.

Nayeon’s eyes widened at the door that’s violently flying open. My hearing fades slowly back in. Turning my head towards whatever Nayeon was looking at, Jihyo storms in and is yelling and aggressively flailing her arms.

Jihyo?

What is she doing here?!

Confusion sets in, the blood spills from my chest, and it’s getting harder to breathe.

Jihyo continues to point when she looks over and sees the state of Y/N and I. Her eyes widened with pure terror and rage, storming over to Nayeon and attempting to grab the gun from her. Nayeon points the gun at Jihyo and kicks her legs out weakly, trying to keep Jihyo away from her.

“I don’t want to shoot you, Hyo! Baby, please!” Faintly heard through the ringing of my eardrums trying to reset.

“LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE, NAYEON! The police are already on their way, I told them everything about your plan!” Jihyo snatches the gun from her. She’s absolutely bawling her eyes out in disgust at how far Nayeon was willing to go.

My vision starts to blur leaving light trails behind every thing that moves. Nayeon stands and lunges at Jihyo, throwing punches and kicking her, trying to reach for the gun again.

“Why would you FUCKING tell them?! I thought you were loyal! I thought you loved me!” Nayeon screeches in a fit of rage, mustering every ounce of energy she can to wrestle Jihyo to the ground.

My body starts swaying back and forth. I'm losing the will to stay awake. I look down at Y/n, passed out in my arms. Her breathing is shallow.

I have to keep my eyes open for her.

I start coughing harshly, tasting the blood that is spewing out of my mouth, coating my tongue in an iron laced flavor. The taste of defeat is present in the moment, if I’m coughing blood…that mean that the bullet is probably in my lung…I’m going to drown if I don’t pass out from the blood loss first.

I’m trying my best to keep pressure on my chest and on the back of Y/n’s head but my strength is wavering far too much to be successful in both.

A warm hand on my back that has a sense of urgency startles me. Attempting to focus, I look up to see Momo bawling her eyes out next to me. Her hand flies over mine to put more pressure on my bullet wound.

Momo is trying to understand everything happening around us, eyes frantically trying to absorb everything one by one. The bullet hole in my chest, Jihyo and Nayeon fighting it out on the floor, Y/n’s bloodied state, and then right back to her hands, that are now covered in my blood.

“How did you know we were here?” I choke out between shallow, hoarse breaths.

“Jihyo called me on her way here. I was on the phone with her when I heard the first shot.”

My head feels too heavy to hold up. I slouch a little, swaying and trying to keep my eyes open and the pressure tight when a loud smack startles me and Momo both.

Both of us looked up immediately to see Jihyo shaking her hand in pain, knuckles bloodied, and Nayeon trying to stand back up but struggling to stand on her own two feet.

Nayeon tackles Jihyo to the floor again, large hands around her neck, tensely squeezing our leader's throat. Jihyo is trying everything in her power to pry Nayeon’s fingers off her throat, gasping and tugging at her digits, trying to hit Nayeon but nothing would remove her.

“I’m sorry, baby, but I couldn’t end up with you. You just aren’t Y/n.” Nayeon hisses above Jihyo before lifting her head by her neck and slamming it into the ground.

Momo stands up to try and come to Jihyo’s defense, ready to defend her and help her get Nayeon subdued until the police arrived.

A bang shatters every reality between what should have happened and what did happen.

Colors wash out of my sight when I see how Momo freezes in front of me, unmoving in a statuesque fashion, breath being held in a death grip.

I call out to her, barely hearing my own voice when her body shudders, turning away and bringing her attention back to me and y/n. I can see and hear her sobs in whispers and grey wash.

Looking over to where the struggle happened, Jihyo is still laying flat on her back sobbing with Nayeon on top of her, too still for comfort.

“Momo…what happened?” I squeak out.

Her eyes are lifeless. Someone who has just witnessed something horrific squatted before me, hands shaking, struggling to apply pressure to my chest and unable to look me in the eyes.

“Why did you do this?…why?” Jihyo cries out through sniffles and rage filled tears.

The clunking sound of someone rolling into the floor catches me off guard, watching Jihyo stand. She’s drenched in blood and making her way over to me.

“Momo…” I croaked with the last bit of my energy, when my vision started to fade to black.

“Stop…Y/n’s blee-…”

The last thing I felt was my back hitting the floor and coldness.

—

Everything is hazy and unfamiliar for a moment, lucidity is not something my brain feels like it’s familiar with. I can’t tell if my eyes are closed but I feel cold. Prickling in my skin does nothing but annoy as a rush of chemicals tells my body it’s okay to be okay.

It’s going to be okay, right?

The burning sensation I can’t quite pinpoint eases rapidly after the sharp stick in the divot of my arm. The voices I hear are unfamiliar, except one. The tone brings comfort, but I couldn’t tell you who it was or what they are to me. All I know is this clouded darkness behind my eyes.

I fall into what feels like sleep. Calm, quiet, almost nurturing in the way of comfort. It envelops me completely. What a joy to feel something other than fear and pain.

Just calm.

I hope she’s okay.

A loud slam of something metal around me brings me into a state of conscience that I have never felt, shifting me into something recognizable and familiar. The darkness in my eye lids slowly fades into warm lighting, laughter and playfulness is heard through out the room I find myself in.

I’m at Jihyo’s house?

How did I get here?

“Oh my GOD! Baby, what are you doing here?!” Nayeon screams and runs out the front door.

Baby?…What is happening?

Y/n and Nayeon walk in, hand in hand. Smiling at each other and everyone is running over to meet the girl that Nayeon has been gushing about. I feel a pang of jealousy in my stomach. Y/n would never do this to me, after what Nayeon did.

Trying to stand to confront them both, I can’t force my body to move.

Wait…

This is the party where we met for the first time.

One of my favorite memories.

She’s sitting there quietly and I just can’t help but watch her take everything in. Her energy is so warm. So peaceful.

I mirror her, silently taking her in, watching her body language, watching how she is with the other members. Politely listening to others speak about their individual interests. I see her eyes shift to me.

“Mina, I know we actually have some hobbies in common! You like legos and video games too, right? Minecraft is what Nayeon told me.” quizzically from across the way.

I can’t believe this is who Nayeon was with. This is not what I pictured at all. Usually she dates obsessive fangirls that she can use and throw away when she’s done, but this person she has just introduced us all to…was nothing like that. She was kind, considerate, very good looking, and someone who brought life into a conversation.

The first of a few conversations, usually that she started. I was always too nervous to speak to her without her prompting it, though I desperately wanted to. I was and am so fascinated and intrigued by the fluttering in my stomach with every word spoken in that angelic voice.

Faces start distorting when I come to the conclusion that this must be a dream.

I must be dreaming.

The walls drop and everything snaps to darkness. My legs whisking me forward trying to find some sense of direction when I blink, I’m in a hallway? Where am I? And then I see her.

Walking down the same hallway laced in gray paint, the embodiment of sunshine, the light in this monotone building. Y/n walks right past me and offers up a small smile. A soft “Hey Mina. It’s so good to see you.” And a somber wave in my direction, the gentle tears streaming down her cheeks, I remember this…

The corridor zips out from underneath me, shrinking in the distant void to a mere sparkle. I’m alone in the darkness again. Why did I just hop from a memory to another memory…?

The sound of yelling brings be to another familiar place. Half warm, half ice. The energy here was a weird sense of home, comfortably uncomfortable.

I’m at Y/n and Nayeon’s apartment…the girls are in the living room but Nayeon and Y/n are nowhere to be seen. The music is just loud enough to muffle the shouting in the other room but I’m close enough to the door to hear it.

“Fine! Do whatever you want, Nayeon!”

“What do you mean? You’re supposed to come with us!”

“I don’t want to be around you, so you go! Do whatever you want, you’re going to anyway!”

The door opens, Nayeon steps out and I see Y/n hunched over in a chair with her head in her hands, body shivering, obviously holding back sobs. Nayeon closes the door quickly to avoid the detection of the fight.

Making eye contact with me as she spins around, I smile at her and pretend I didn’t see. Y/n needs her right now, and she’s just going to leave with us? What kind of a partner are you?

The sound of her cracking open a beer can throws me forward, through a sliding glass door.

I’m on a balcony? I can hear the girls inside laughing and having a good time. A sniffle rings out against the laughter in a contrast that makes my stomach sink.

Looking to my left, I see Y/n sitting with her back against the wall, curled into herself, elbows resting on her knees and hands covering her obviously crying face.

My heart breaks in that moment, in a way it didn’t the first time. In a way I didn’t know was possible. Just as I did in the memory, I sit next to her in silence. The memory wouldn’t allow me to change it’s already pathed out course, this moment I would never change.

She looks up at me when our shoulders touch, eyes red and swollen.

“Oh! Mina…Hey!. Sorry, I’m okay. Just…uh…having a bad day.” through the tears that descend down her soft cheeks.

“Are you really okay?” I wish I could say more. I know she’s not okay. I’ve known for a while but it’s not my place to tell this person I barely knew to leave her partner. It seems like Nayeon has manipulated Y/n into thinking that what was happening between them was healthy.

Super sweet love bombing.

Calm conversations with carefully chosen words to belittle, betray, and knock down.

Nayeon’s perfectly crafted nightmare of subtle abuse was so laced in other tastes that it was almost impossible to spot from any perspective, you had to be paying attention very very closely to see it. It makes sense why she lost her mind when she did. The plan falls apart when the object of your manipulation realizes they have free will, or you get too sloppy and they flat out leave.

She stops moving, frozen in the question. The pain behind her eyes sears my heart in ways unexplainable. How I wish I could take that pain away from her.

Y/n leans her head on my shoulder, tears stop falling momentarily. Her body relaxes in a way I was unfamiliar with before…was she always this comfortable around me?

A knock on the slider blends with the sound of something being thrown across the room that materialized right in front of me.

Suddenly, I’m in Japan for our group interview, walking in on Jihyo and Nayeon having a very heated conversation.

“What am I supposed to do? If the public finds out…the company will have a fit!” Nayeon is in tears, fists bawled and red in the face. Jihyo is holding her, rubbing her back in a soothing manner. Her hand glides up Nayeon’s spine in a very…intimate…way.

“Don’t worry, honey.” swiping a tear gently off Nayeon’s cheek, the loving look in her eyes was something I’d never seen them share. I had never seen Jihyo react this way to anyone’s tears like that, not even Sana.

“We can figure it out, okay? We can make a plan for when Y/n and you talk and keep our story strai- Hey, Mina!” Jihyo jumps back from Nayeon, seemingly nervous about what I’ve seen.

“…is everything okay?”

“Yes, Nayeon and Y/n got into a fight…they’ll be fine. Don’t worry.” Jihyo assured me, though at the time, I didn’t know what I was hearing in that conversation. Nayeon’s glare at me was enough to speak volumes.

She must’ve always known my fascination with Y/n.

“Alright girls, I’ve got a plane to catch back home…are you going to be okay, hon- I mean unnie?”

A freudian slip.

“Honey.” said out loud, just like when I heard it for the first time and again, without my own free will.

Nayeon scowls at me, Jihyo is shocked I said anything and I’m not so confused about what was happening here anymore. At the time I had not realized how close they were, or what was transpiring between them. I can still hardly believe it, even with proof.

The sound of footsteps towards me sends me to memory, turning into my own steps while I pace on the phone with Momo, talking about how Nayeon and Y/n have broken up and what Nayeon did to her.

The upset that all the information she is telling me over the speaker floods me with upset. A rage unseen by most, even hearing it a second time causes me to seethe. An innocent person, broken by the hands of someone unworthy.

Little did I know how broken she would actually get. I thought maybe I could help put the pieces back together, I never imagined it would turn into what it did…

“Hey, Momo, will you send me Y/n’s number? I’d like to check on her.” I still feel the nervousness behind the question along with the cheerfulness of seeing her again.

Even if this broken record moment in my brain is just a figment, it’s making me feel the same way, almost layered in a sense. The before feeling, and the after feeling.

If you really think about it, memories are just mental photobooks. Bottles of feelings and images contained for when you hear a sound, smell something familiar, or are around a specific person that makes your heart scream in agony at the sheer amount of love that seeps into every orifice you have when in their presence.

I am simply living in them.

“Sure, I’m sure she would love to hear from you, Mina.” replied when the phone in my hand vibrates. The text Momo sent has a contact labeled “Y/nnie” I can’t help but chuckle at the cute nickname again. I watch myself, from my own eyes, save it and not change the name.

I hesitate to call, the worry of if she would agree to hang out with me sits on my stomach again. I can do this, I know I can…Okay okay, here we go.

Reliving the excited feeling of calling her for the first time was less excruciating this time, the phone ringing until I heard her yell through the speaker.

“Can you stop calling me? I obviously don’t want to talk to you.” the tone heavy with annoyance, I remember thinking this was a bad time to call.

“..Y/n?” the hesitation when she realizes that I wasn’t the person she assumed I was adorable. Small notes of confusion in her silence was something I wish I could have witnessed sooner.

“Oh…uhm, sorry…I thought this was Jihyo. I don’t have this number saved in my phone…”

“That’s alright” I giggled, feeling a little awkward just as I remember.

“It’s Mina.”

“Mina?”the shock in her voice was noticeable, voice pitched up, and I could visualize her brows furrowing.

“Momo told me what happened and I asked for your number… I hope that’s okay.” the sounds of the call change drastically, going from crystal clear to a little hazy and to the sound of squeaky brakes.

“Yes, that’s totally fine…uhm, sorry, I’m…a little all over the place right now.”

“I know we don’t really know each other too well but…uhm, I know we have some common interests and that you could probably use a friend right now…so I figured I would call and see if you wanted to get a coffee or something…or maybe just sit on the couch and play videogames or…  something.” I really should’ve thought about what I was going to say before I called her.

“That sounds…really nice. I’d love to. Would you…want to text me your schedule for the next week or two and we can plan it from there?” My heart flutters again when I hear the sound of her smile beaming through the phone.

“Sounds good, I’ll text you.” hanging up before I got too giggly on the phone. I wasn’t trying to be weird about it to her…I just wanted to get to know her and be around her warmth again.

The sound of my phone locking sends me to her front door, 2 coffees in hand. A deep breath before the door opens. I was so nervous to see her and a little worried about the anxiety that she had been feeling.

The crack of the door ushers me inside and I offer her the coffee she didn’t ask for. We curl up on separate couches and play video games together and just talk.

We have intellectual conversations about almost every topic we stumble upon, I see her back unclenching as the day goes on and I know that we both need to eat.

Heading to the Japanese cafe that was so close by we could walk, our hands brush against each other. To feel that all over again ethereal. Bursts of adrenaline, the flashes of cold, the fluttering of the butterflies, the way it ignited something in me. I was meant to hold that hand.

“These shops seem cool, maybe we should come back another day and explore them.” My ears are burning at the question and the overwhelming tension I feel inside myself about her. I do hope we can go back to those shops someday.

We ordered sake and I asked her if I could order food for her. Paying attention to what she said when we spoke earlier when I was describing the food my mother makes, it seemed like it would be a fun idea.

I ordered the food in Japanese so the meal would be a surprise when it arrived at the table. The way she looked at me when I did was absolutely adorable, seemingly nervous now- scratching the sides of her fingers.

Reaching my hand out, I lay it on hers. Her shoulders relax and her jaw unclenches, our eyes are locked and I’m swooning. Even in a nervous state, this celestial being in front of me was devastating to my heart.

The way the emotions flickered in her eyes and on her face were telling of the last person who held this hand and the damage she left behind.

I touched her without permission, my hand retracted rapidly as I apologized. The food arrives in the middle of her trying to tell me why she reacted the way she did, cutting off the conversation all together.

She notices the similarities in our plates, asking me if we got the same thing. I tell her I remembered the little details from what she used to eat when she came to the studio, so I took off what she didn’t like and had them rearrange things.

She tells me the entire story of what happened with Nayeon over the food that night. I still can’t fathom the type of human that could hurt someone so tender.

The clinking of the plates after we finish our meal puts me in the cafe, paying for the bill. I thanked the lady at the podium and turn to walk out the front door when I see them.

Nayeon is outside with Jihyo, trying to throw herself at Y/n, what the hell is she doing here? I get so angry thinking about the pain that she’s gone through and with a little liquid courage from the sake, I take my stance next to Y/n and grab her hand.

“Are you ready to go, my love?” I make sure to raise my voice a little so that Nayeon and Jihyo can hear what I’ve said. I refuse to let her try to bully Y/n into submission. There will be no opportunities for that, at least not with me around.

“You can’t be serious right now, Y/n! After last night, are you on a date with Mina? A member of my group? Do you not have your own friends to filter through? Did I not satiate you enough? …Maybe we should’ve gone one more round.”

Nayeon is absolutely floored, so mad that she’s here with me. Seeing it all play back in my mind's eye, I should’ve noticed the signs. I should’ve seen what was going to happen. Maybe I could’ve protected her.

Wait…did she say a date?

I mean…I guess this is a date…I never thought about it like that. I wonder how Y/n felt when Nayeon said that…I know now how she feels about us, but I can’t help but wonder what was going through her head while we were here.

Jihyo is silently crying and getting back into the car but I don’t think anyone else notices. While I view her as a huge part of the problem, I can’t help but feel bad for her. Look at her standing there so uncomfortable she can barely even function.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of her from now since you can’t satiate her, apparently.” I wink at Nayeon and lead Y/n away from this mess.

A sneeze places me on Y/n’s couch with her wrapped around me, cuddling into me with her hand on my torso. My heart is full like this. I hope to experience more of moments like these with her.

My body jolts from her pushing down on me, gasping for air in a way that’s rushed and eager. She’s immediately up crying and pacing back and forth in the living room. A panic attack happening before my eyes, I spring into action and comfort her the best I can.

Y/n parts from me, stripping her hoodie off so she’s just in a sports bra. I’m attempting to be respectful about not staring at her half naked but having the hardest time with it. I just want to give her everything she deserves.

I catch her by her wrist as she paces, pulling her into my arms and telling her she’s safe. Y/n pulls back, looking me in the eyes from mere inches away. I can feel her breath against me, I just want to lean in and press my lips on hers when she scoots in a little closer to me.

I take this as permission, meeting her in the middle and the lightning that shoots through me is so powerful that all my nerves burn with the essence that is Y/n. Trying to keep things calm but she starts to lean in harder so I take control.

I push her onto the couch and once my hands hit the couch, the glass shatters and we are surrounded by police and clothed again. The police are questioning my poor Y/n. I wish she could catch a break.

The click of the officers pen and I’m taping up the window for her, turning around to see her completely lost in thoughts with glass in her foot.

The snap of the first aid kit brings us back to her bed, where she’s telling me she feels safe and my heart is racing to tell her all the feelings that have built up.

Next thing I know, I’m between her legs tasting the slick off her folds. She’s moaning underneath me and the sound is godly. I just want to devour her but this isn’t the moment. That will come soon enough. Right now, this is about her.

What she wants.

What she needs.

Cumming into my mouth, the sounds are that of angels singing to me and only me in that moment. I wrap my fingers around her throat and squeeze a little just to hear her moan for me again.

Leaning down to kiss her again, when our lips part I’m on the phone with the police.

“Hello, we’ve called to update you on the case that you filed last night. We’ve arrested Park Jihyo. She admitted guilt when confronted about the vandalizing of house.”

“What?” I still can’t believe she would have taken the fall for Nayeon like that.

When I hit end on the phone call, I spin around to Y/n telling me to lay in her lap and I happily do so. There’s so much comfort in her touch, I can’t explain the calm. It’s calmer than the void at the beginning of this weird live action trip down memory lane. I sink into a deep sleep while she plays with my hair.

When my eyes open, I’m on the phone with Momo. At this point, I’m just letting this memory train whisk me away. I’m not going to question why this is happening.

She’s wondering where I am, I remember the banquet and then I’m throwing my shoes on by the front door when Y/n asks me on a date…an official date. I’m consumed with joy. Finally, Ill get to show her what love actually looks like.

When the door shuts behind me, I’m suddenly at Momo’s house getting ready with her and Dahyun.

“Soooo…you and y/n, hm?” Momo pokes at me to get more information.

“Well…I think so. These past 2 days have been…kind of magic? Even with all the crazy stuff that’s been happening with Nayeon.” I want to shout how excited I am from the rooftops but my body won’t allow me to.

“I really hope yo- wait, what did you say?” The confusion on Momo’s face is laced in concern as she stares at me, waiting for me to fill in the blanks.

I tell her everything. The confrontation at the restaurant, the way Nayeon called Y/n that morning, the rock through the window, and lastly Jihyo taking the fall.

Momo and Dahyun both are stunned by this new information, jaws on the floor. I just nod my head at them, trying to not think about the negatives of this because I have a date with Y/n and the closeness we have has made me so smitten.

“Wait…you were with Y/n this morning? I thought you had plans yesterday…?” Dahyun is confused about the story she has just overheard.

“Uhm…yes. She didn’t want to be alone last night so I stayed with her.” I admit quietly, hoping for no further questions. Not that I don’t want to talk about it, but it feels so fresh.

“…did you sleep on the couch? Or?” Dahyun is smiling so big at me that I can’t help but laugh.

Momo doesn’t even try to stop her from asking questions because she’s curious as well, it’s not like Y/n gave her any information while she was on the phone with her.

“I did not sleep on the couch.”

They both gasp at this. They aren’t stupid. They know what happened.

“Wait did you guys have se-”

“I’m going to go call Y/n and see if she’s on her way.” I step out of the room and dial the phone, stepping outside to get some privacy.

When the door clicks behind me, I’m blasted into the memory of her crying in my arms because Nayeon showed up to her apartment and bombarded her, yet again.

I tell her to stay with me tonight after she expresses she doesn’t want to see Nayeon again. Y/n announces she doesn’t want to impose and I just kiss her to shut her up.

I pull on her blazer to keep her close and feel her hands travel up to my neck. I’m going to take her here.

Right here.

I untuck her shirt, run my fingers along the edge of her waistline when the door flings open.

“Hey, Mina did you talk wi- OH?!” Of course, it’s Momo interrupting the moment. How embarrassing.

“Sorry to interrupt! Should I go back inside or?” Dahyun sneaks out behind Momo through the door and shuts it.

The sound of the lock latching sends me to the table we are all sat at, eating dinner and making light conversation. I’m focused on Y/n, who is toying around with her food and not really present in the moment.

Leaning over to her, I make sure to look Y/n in her eyes when I ask her if she’s okay the first time. A small nod of the head, I lean back into my chair, and continue eating my dinner. I know she’s lying, it’s written in the way her eyes are tracing every detail of the table and avoiding mine.

Maybe she just doesn’t know how apparent it is. I take another few bites, leaning in one more time.

“Are you su-”

“I get that we aren’t together but can you stop doing whatever this-” moving her hands around in a dramatic fashion. “- is, in front of me? Kind of rude, don't you think?”

You are kidding me. I can’t believe she just said that in front of everyone. We are not supposed to be the focus tonight.

“Nayeon, not now.” Momo chiming in like she already knew what any sane person would be thinking watching this all play out. More annoyed than I will allow myself to display, especially after knowing what was going to happen after this.

Especially now, knowing exactly what Nayeon was capable of.

“You think she can do for you what I did? You think she can be who you need her to be for you?! WE are supposed to be here together, not you and Mina! Mina, of all people!” body language threatening and almost violent in nature.

Me? Of all people? What the *fuck* does that mean?!

Everyone around us is completely in shock, with the exception of those who knew what Nayeon was, who Nayeon could be. I see some avoidance from a few of the members, not wanting to encourage her or draw attention to the situation.

Reliving this makes me just as enraged as it did the first time.

“I bet she doesn’t fuck like I do or do you need another reminder of how I fuck you?”

Oh, good god. I still can’t believe she said that out loud for everyone at this table and around us to hear. This is not the fucking place for this.

“I can’t believe you wouldn’t want to work on thi-”

“ENOUGH!”

Boom.

I take another bite of my meal, before setting my utensils down. Looking over at my stunning date, making sure to make eye contact. The fury behind my eyes is enough to prompt her to do what I so desperately wanted to.

“Nayeon, why don’t you tell everyone where Jihyo is?” the malice inflected in the statement sends chills down my spine. This assertive dominant part of her that I was meeting in full form for the first time…I was happy she was spending the night at mine.

I feel the way the warmth fills me, starting between my legs and creeping up as she puts this vicious bitch in her place.

“Y/n…I- I don’t know what you mean. H- How should I know?” That’s right. Panic.

“Oh, sure you do!...Weren’t you with her last night?” Everyone is staring at her now, confused and concerned.

“Wait-” Tzuyu starts and then everything is silent. I look around, waiting for the room to change to the memory I know is next.

Everyone around me is frozen in place, unwavering in complete and total stillness. I stand and fix my dress, this is the first time that I have control over my body since this montage of memories started.

Walking towards the room.

The room.

The room where everything happens.

The room where Y/n gets hurt.

The room where I get shot.

The room where Jihyo ends Nayeon’s life…

I step in with no hesitation, before I realize that the entirety of the room is pitch black and there is no floor.

I fall.

Dropping through a tunnel of nothingness, just trying to catch anything that will keep me from descending into this pit of darkness. The void calls and I’ve returned against my will again.

A halt jerks me out of the dissociated state that I found myself in. How long did I fall for? How long have I been in this state?

A small pinhole of light shines through the ether, steadily growing and getting brighter.

Is it getting closer?

“Mina?” An echoed whisper reverberates every bone in my body. Shaking me violently, the void cracks, shining the beams of another realm through the shattering façade around me

“Mina…darling, you have to wake up.”

Y/n?

Dull beeps pipe through the whispers and into my brain. My throat feels hot, why doesn’t my throat feel hot?

“Mina, please…”

The light is blinding now as a vision of my parents shine through, my eyes flutter open and try to focus on their faces when the smell of hospital breaks all my senses.

The tube down my throat keeps me from speaking, my parents are crying in happiness that I’m awake but the tears I cry are of fear.

My eyes search helplessly, unable to communicate what I’m looking for.

Who I am looking for.

My father notices my panic, trying to calm me when the pain starts. The same burn in my chest from earlier. I try to look down at my chest at my wound when the nurse comes in and greets me.

“Mina! Welcome back! Your family missed you!” cheered through a beaming smile.

I start weakly mimicking writing with my hand, looking around the room for someone to understand what I’m asking for.

My father grabs the whiteboard at the end of the bed with my medical information on it, wiping it clean and holding it next to me. He uncaps the marker with his teeth and spits it out onto the floor, wrapping my hand around it so that I can write.

“Mina, we are going to pull the tube from you now to make sure that lung is functioning the way that it’s supposed to, okay?” the nurse chimes in as I’m writing.

The doctor comes in, trying to usher my father to the side so he can do what he needs to. I grip my dad’s forearm to signal him to stay in place.

“Please, she’s been asleep for so long, can you just give us a moment?”

I write the last few letters quickly before the doctors get to work, I watch my parents brows furrow at what I’ve written. My father takes the whiteboard out of the room, my mother staying with me for the remainder of the removal of the tube.

Gasping for air, my body is trying to recalibrate to the new surroundings. To reality.

“Where…” my voice is gravely and horse, barely coming out in a whisper.

“Is…” I swallow, trying to build up my strength to say the last word I needed to.

“Y/n?”

Thanks for reading! 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[daryltwdixon]

The Promise of Us: Chapter 12

You 

You heard the explosions first, then the gunfire and shouting outside your door—it was time to go. Now. Where the hell is Merle?

Your wrists are still bound tight behind your back, the ropes cutting into your skin, but you’ve worked the knots loose, just enough to give you an inch of hope. The skin is raw from the constant tugging, slick with sweat, but the burning sting is the least of your concerns. You grit your teeth, pulling and prying, every inch of slack bringing you closer to freedom. Outside, the sounds of chaos are rising—shouting, frantic footsteps, and that unmistakable crackle of panic in the air. Something has gone wrong out there. Very wrong.

And here you are. Helpless. Fucking useless. Tied up in the dark with no way to fight back. Your heart races, a sickening churn twisting in your gut as you shake your hands again, desperately trying to get free.

Then, the door creaks open.

You freeze, every muscle tensing as your gaze snaps to the figure in the doorway. It’s him. The Governor. He’s got something around his head–a white, thick gauze holding a bloody bandage over his eye. You wonder briefly what happened to him…if any of your people did that. The sick, twisted grin from earlier is gone, replaced by a scowl that carves deep lines into his face. The charm he’d used to toy with you is nowhere to be found, his one eye looks at you cold and cruel. He pauses, looking you up and down, studying your cuts, the bruises starting to form, and your bloody mouth. Then he scoffs, and his boots echo against the floor as he approaches, each step deliberate, his presence suffocating the room.

You don’t even have time to react before his hand is on you, fingers digging into your arm as he yanks you from the chair. Your knees buckle from the sudden force, the ropes cutting deeper into your wrists as you stumble.

“Show’s over, darlin’,” he growls, voice low and venomous. The way he says it, like you’re some pawn in his game, makes your blood boil. But you swallow the rage, knowing it won’t help you here. Not yet.

He shoves you forward, forcing you out the door. The hallway is barely lit, shadows dancing across the walls, and your mind races. You don’t know what’s waiting for you out there—more of his men? Walkers? Worse? But the one thing you do know is that you can’t stay in his grip for long.

You focus on the knots behind your back, your fingers raw, and pray that you’ve got enough time.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

Gunshots crack through the smoke as they make their way into the center square. The air is thick, almost suffocating, filled with the panicked screams of people running for cover. Daryl can barely see through the haze, his heart pounding in rhythm with the gunfire. His senses are on high alert—every shadow, every flash of movement feels like a threat.

They duck into an alley, the cold brick walls pressing in around them. Maggie turns, firing blindly behind her into the chaos of the street.

“You guys go, I’m gonna lay down some cover fire,” Daryl growls, his voice rough, the urgency building in his chest.

“No, we gotta stay together,” Maggie argues, her eyes wide and frantic. She’s scared, they all are, but there’s no time to talk sense into her.

“‘S too hairy,” Daryl shakes his head, already making his decision. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Without waiting for a response, he pulls the last flashbang from his belt, the metal cold and solid in his hand. He yanks the pin and throws it out into the street, the explosion reverberating through the alley like a punch to the gut, smoke billowing from it in plumes. The force rattles him, but it does the trick—screams echo louder, the enemy scattering.

Daryl moves fast, breaking from the alley and diving into the open. His guns are already blazing, bullets ripping through the smoke. He doesn’t look back. Doesn’t think. His mind is sharp as he tries hard to focus on one thing—keeping them safe.

The world around him is a blur of fire and blood, people scrambling in all directions. His aim is deadly, taking down anyone who gets too close. But just as he turns to fire again, the click of his empty gun stops him cold. Shit. Out of ammo.

He ducks behind a nearby cart, slamming another clip into place as fast as his hands can move. His fingers tremble, but he forces the panic down, biting the inside of his cheek to keep his focus sharp.

“Go!” he yells over the chaos, his voice hoarse. He hears their voices calling for him, but he doesn’t stop. Not yet.

With a steady breath, Daryl steps back into the fray, his gun raised once more. The noise is deafening, his ears ringing as he fires again, pushing forward. His whole body hums with adrenaline, every muscle tight and ready, the world narrowing to the sound of gunfire and the desperate need to survive.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

You

As The Governor brings you outside, you can see the fire light dancing along the walls, people chattering. There’s a panic in the air about them, their voices loud. But once you start getting a look at everything, a bag is placed over your head, blinding you. The fibers of the rope around your wrists still digs into you, no progress able to be made while he has you in his grip. Your breath hitches with your one sense gone, and your hearing takes over. He doesn’t move you forward, just keeps you nice and snug to him.

“Think I wouldn’t know, huh?” you feel his hot breath along your ear. You shiver as he digs his fingers into your side, “Think I didn’t realize you and Merle had somethin’ when I came in and saw ya?” his voice is low and menacing, and your pulse skyrockets.

“He ain’t my right hand man cause he’s smart, darlin’,” he chuckles, and after a moment, he says into your ear, “Any man who loved a girl wouldn’t go for their best features. I knew his brother was the only thing he cared about, but after I saw how he handled you—and then heard you knew the other two—it didn’t take much to piece it all together.” 

Your spine jolts like lightning at his words. You’d been careless. Merle must have told him you knew Glenn and Maggie. Maybe he spilled the entire plan. Panic wells in your chest, but before it takes hold, all you can do is pray they’re okay. Footsteps approach, and unfamiliar hands seize your wrists, yanking them roughly. You squirm, trying to kick free, but a fist crashes into your face, and you double over, gasping in pain.

"Now stay put," the Governor sneers. "I need to announce your grand entrance."

You lean forward, tasting blood as it spills from your mouth, your breath ragged and sharp. The hands on your arms are sweaty and strong, pinning your wrists so tight you can’t move an inch. You're left standing there, utterly helpless. The Governor’s footsteps retreat, and the murmur of voices ahead falls eerily silent. 

Suddenly, the Governor’s voice booms across the crowd. “What can I say? Hasn’t been a night like this since the walls were completed.” He sounds defeated as he continues, “And I thought we were past it. Past the days when we all sat, huddled and scared, in front of the TV during the early days of the outbreak. The fear we all felt then—we felt it again tonight.” His voice drops, barely audible from where you stand across the open dirt courtyard. “I failed you... I promised to keep you safe. Hell, look at me.”

You can picture his face, the white bandage across his head, the patch over his eye.

“You know, I—I should tell you that we’ll be okay, that we’re safe,” he continues, his voice weighed down with regret, with defeat. “Tomorrow we’ll bury our dead and endure. But I won’t. I can’t. Because I’m afraid. That’s right. I’m afraid of terrorists who want what we have—who want to destroy us.” There’s a long pause, and then, more gravely, “And worse... one of those terrorists is one of our own.”

Your breath hitches, panic sparking behind your eyes.

“Merle,” the Governor bellows, “the man I counted on. The man I trusted. He led ‘em here. He let ‘em in. It was you!” His voice rises to a furious roar. “You lied, betrayed us all!”

Your heart slams in your chest. They had Merle cornered. They knew you were trying to escape with him. The crowd gasps, their anger building.

Suddenly, more footsteps approach. You hear people passing, uneasy breathing mixed in. For a second, your senses sharpen—you think you recognize the ragged breaths, the heavy footfalls of being led blindly. But it couldn’t be. No, it can’t.

“This is one of the terrorists!” The Governor’s voice rings out again, louder, more menacing. “Merle’s own brother!”

Your heart plummets. No.

Panic flares, hot and fast, racing up your spine. No, not Daryl. He can’t be here. You can feel the ground sway beneath you, your breath coming in shallow gasps. For a split second, everything else disappears—the crowd’s bloodthirsty cries, the weight of the Governor’s grip—everything except the horrifying realization that they have the one person you can’t bear to lose. You flail in the man's arms that holds you, but its no use, he's got you pinned to the spot, his heavy hands latched onto you.

“What should we do with them?” the Governor asks the crowd, and the response is instant—loud, bloodthirsty. “Kill ‘em! Kill them!” they chant.

The man holding you shoves you forward. Rough hands grab you, jerking you violently as you’re handed off again. You recognize the firm grip on your upper arm—the Governor himself, dragging you closer to the seething, furious mob.

❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥・・❥

Daryl

Daryl’s heart pounded in his chest, every beat a thunderous reminder of the madness surrounding him. The crowd in Woodbury roared, a twisted blend of excitement and bloodlust. While Merle’s hands are unbound, Daryl stands with his wrists tied behind his back, breathing heavily.  But Daryl’s focus wasn’t on the walkers or Merle. Not anymore. Not since the Governor’s smirk had widened into something darker, something crueler. 

“You know, boys, I thought you’d need a little extra motivation,” the Governor sneered, his voice carrying over the crowd. Daryl’s stomach twisted, his pulse quickening. “Bring her in.”

Daryl froze. Her.

From the corner of the ring, one of the Governor’s cronies shoved a blindfolded figure forward. His breath caught in his throat as the familiar shape stumbled into the light. He didn’t need to see her face to know. Y/N.

She was bound and blindfolded, her arms twisted painfully behind her back. Her body language was rigid with fear, her movements hesitant. There was blood on her clothes. Daryl’s heart pounded against his ribs, his vision narrowing, the blood rushing in his ears.

The Governor laughed, the sound low and menacing. “Let’s make this interesting, boys,” he said, as he approached Y/N, drawing his gun. The crowd grew silent, the tension palpable. 

He can hear Andrea fighting with some of the men by the crowd. He didn’t care anymore that she was here, in the grips of this place. All he cared was the two fucking people he ever cared about were right in front of him, and death was calling all their names. Someone comes up behind Daryl to untie his hands, and his arms fall loosely to the side.

“Brother against brother, loser goes free… Fight,” the Governor said, his voice dripping with malice. “Or she dies.”

Merle scoffs, rolling his shoulders as if to brush it off. “Her? She’s just some girl you had me set straight back in the office, boss,” he growls, keeping his tone dismissive, cold. But when Daryl looks over, he can see the flicker of hesitation in his brother’s eyes, the crack in his tough facade.

The Governor chuckles darkly, his gaze lingering on her bound form. “Is that so?” His eyes flick between Merle and Daryl, a twisted grin spreading across his face. “Funny, ‘cause based on the look in your brother’s eyes right now, it’s clear she means a hell of a lot more than that. You think I don’t know when someone’s important to you, Merle?”

He pulls her in closer, almost like she's a good friend, under his arm, speaking loudly enough for both brothers to hear. She quirks under his touch, the bag over her head loose but jerking with her movements. Daryl's blood boils higher and higher to the surface.

“I already told her. Think I wouldn’t figure it out?” His voice drops into that low, menacing tone again. “You might be rough around the edges, Merle, but you ain’t stupid enough to leave marks where it really hurts. A man who doesn’t give a damn wouldn’t bother with that. Nose, lips, eyes—none of it touched.” He turns to Daryl, smirking. “I knew right then. Your brother didn’t just care about you—he cared about her too. And when Merle opened his mouth, told me she knew them other two terrorists, well…” He trails off with a cruel laugh. “Didn’t take much to figure the rest out.”

Just as Daryl’s fists tighten at his sides, the Governor let out another chuckle and yanked the bag off Y/N’s head. She had marks all over her— clearly beaten before he brought her in here. Her cheek had a nasty abrasion, jaw swelling, blood down her chin. Daryl’s breath hitched as her wide, terrified eyes blinked against the sudden light, searching—until they landed on him.

Her gaze locked onto his, her eyes filled with an apology so deep it nearly tore him apart. He could see the fear there, the guilt, the silent plea. She didn’t have to say anything. It was all there, written in her expression: I’m sorry.

His heart sank lower. His fingers twitched at his side. 

The man nods toward the corner of the makeshift arena, and the ominous sound of rattling chains fills the air. Daryl’s heart pounds louder in his ears, drowning out everything else as the walkers are led into the circle. Men on either side struggle with poles, keeping the snarling creatures at bay, their dead hands reaching and snapping. Each step they take brings the walkers closer, tightening the already suffocating space.

But the Governor wasn’t done yet. With a sickening grin, he removed the gun from Y/N’s head and gave her a hard shove forward. She stumbled toward one of the walkers, its gnashing teeth inches from her face, its dead hands reaching for her. Daryl’s breath caught in his throat, and he lurched forward to get her before someone behind him yanked him back by the shirt.

She stopped just shy of the walker’s grasp, but the Governor was on her again, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her back with a vicious tug. She cried out, and the sound made Daryl see red, anger boiling beneath the surface of his skin, mixing with the panic that had already consumed him.

Daryl’s pulse quickens, panic rising in his chest. The only thing he can hear now is the relentless thud of his heartbeat, drowning out the growing noise of the crowd, the clinking chains, and the walkers' ravenous groans.

The Governor smirked, his hand still gripping her hair as she struggled to stand. He held her there, dangling her just out of reach of the walker’s jaws, toying with her, toying with them. Daryl’s heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst from his chest.

“Don’t make me ask again,” the Governor said, his voice cold and calculating. “Fight. Or I let her go.”

And with one last look at Y/N, at her wide, terrified eyes, Daryl knew—he would do anything to keep her alive.

[brighttears]

Melt

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description, no use of y/n

Summary: In Jackson, Joel panics when he can’t find you. All you did was go on a run alone, but the fear gets damn close to overpowering him. He blows up on you, but after he simmers down, he crawls back to and into your arms.

Warnings: swearing ? very G rated

Word count: 1k

A/n: this is fun :) I don’t know if this connects to The Day the Music Died or is just a standalone. Feedback appreciated ! 

—

Joel couldn’t find you. 

He asked Ellie, who didn’t know where you were, nor did Maria. Joel swept both houses and then went for the stables. There was a horse missing, and no you. He rushed to find Tommy in town, who finally told him that you’d taken a horse earlier that morning to go retrieve a gun you’d stashed.

Joel’s mind raced as he held tightly onto his brother’s shoulders. 

“She what? You let her go alone?”

“Yeah, Joel, I know she can handle herself, I wouldn’t have let her go if I didn't think it was–”

“Safe? It is not safe, Tommy!” Joel snapped. 

“Joel…” Tommy was startled, eyes wide with worry.

Joel grimaced, took his hands off of his brothers shoulders, and stomped back towards the stables.

“Hey–What, you goin’ after her?”

“Yeah I’m fuckin’ goin’ after her!” Joel shouted back. “She shouldn’t be out there all alone.”

Tommy rushed to follow. 

“Joel, she’ll be fine!”

Joel stopped and turned to look back at him, “‘Fine’? And you know that how?”

“Joel–” Tommy faltered, and threw his hands up with a loud sigh. He looked after his brother briefly before turning back to his work.

Joel’s blood was running hot. He ignored the tightness in his chest and hastened his steps as all kinds of the violence that he knew was out there flashed through his mind. 

His breath hitched when he got to the stalls and the missing horse was back. 

“Y/n,” He said under his breath, and surged forward up to the houses. 

“Y/n?” Joel called out as soon as he opened the front door.

“Yeah?” You said ingenuously, concerned by his tone. 

“There you are!” He spotted you sitting on the couch reloading your pistol, a knife and rifle laid on the floor before you.

“Joel, what?”

“‘What’? You went out alone?” he almost roared. 

Offended, you brought your tone closer to his. “Yeah, so what? I was just getting that gun I stashed. I was out there for maybe two hours, tops. Calm down, Joel.”

Shot with anger that had flooded his cup of worry, Joel continued to shout. “C–” he started, almost sneering, “‘Calm down’? No, I will not calm down, y/n.”

“Joel–”

“No. Y/n, you can't do stupid shit like this, you’re gonna get yourself killed going out there alone.” Joel took a step towards you with a fierce glare on his face, “How am I supposed to protect you when I don’t even know where the fuck you are?” 

Taken aback, you scoffed, “Joel, you’re not my fucking knight in shining armor. I can fucking take care of myself. Don’t forget I was alone for months–years! Without you. I’m not helpless. I don’t fucking need you.” You spat the last sentence out, regretting it as soon as you did.

Joel’s face fell. 

“Joel–fuck–I-I didn’t mean that like–” you stammered. 

“No. I get it.” Joel breathed hard through his nose. “You’re right. I’m not your fuckin’ knight in shining armor. Do what you want--go ahead and get yourself killed, my hands will be clean.” he snarled, turned to leave but then turned back and pointed his finger at you, “You know who does need you? Ellie. I’ll be fine,” his voice broke for a split second on the last word, “but you’ll be another loss that she has to fuckin’ endure.” With that, he strode out swiftly, slamming the door behind him. 

Outside, Joel headed straight towards the bar, his huffed breaths clouding in the bitter winter air. 

Close to the bar, he faltered, turned a sharp corner and slammed his back against the wall of an alley. He closed his eyes and leaned down, supporting his arms on his knees. 

“Fuck.” He breathed. He sniffled and quickly wiped the wetness from his eyes, chalking up to the cold air, nothing more. Joel couldn’t seem to catch his breath. “God fucking damn it.” he whispered through gritted teeth, “God damn it, y/n.”

Joel sniffled again and turned back onto the street, walking fast to the Tipsy Bison. 

He sat hunched at the bar for a while without ordering a drink. 

Then he slammed his hand on the table and got up, leaving just as fast as he had come in, back to you.

He charged in without knocking but lost confidence only a few steps in. 

You raised your head from your hands, still sat on the couch. 

Joel was heaving, his brow knit, and you swore you saw fear in his eyes. At his expression, you stood and closed the space between you.

“I…” he started, closed his mouth and then opened it again. His lip quivered, he blinked, but you spoke before him, voice flutteringly confident, “I need you, Joel.” 

Joel’s face softened, his shoulders relaxed, and he compulsively pulled you into him. 

Your bodies melted into a firm embrace, both letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Something in you both finally snapped as you held onto each other. He was so warm, so solid, and you, so easy for him to hold. It felt so natural. 

He had his face buried in your collar and you could feel his warm breath on your skin. You felt lazy in his arms, like you could fall asleep in them, but there was an electricity in your heart that kept you wide awake. Joel’s eyes had fallen closed. He held onto the moment in his mind just as firmly as did to your body. He felt like he could die right there in your arms.

This is what was missing, this closeness, this security. 

It pained Joel to have spoken to you like that, but he just couldn't handle the fear that struck his heart when he lost you–thought he lost you, thought that he could lose you. 

Holding you, knowing you were safe in his arms, the heavy grief in his heart wanted to pull him back down to thoughts of when you may not be, but it also felt light with your own heart so close to it.

Joel, lost in you, whispered, without being completely aware of what was leaving his lips, “I love you, y/n.” Once he heard himself say it, panic struck him, but only for the second before you replied just as softly, “I love you, Joel.”

[inkmonster21]

Sing for Me

13. You Know Me

Cooper Howard × Fem!Reader / The Ghoul × Fem!Reader

She's a singer the nation adores. He's the actor everyone respects. What happens when these two get entangled in a heated affair? Passion, regret, rage, and even murder will commence.

From before the bombs drop to the vast wasteland, these two souls live for one another.

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

Tagged: @fallout-girl219 @harmfulb1tch @themadhattersqueen @one-of-thewalkingdead

I was tracking that Doctor in the wasteland. He hasn’t left long ago, only a day ahead my me. The dog was now at my heels. He stops at the buried diner, where the bloody remains of Doctor Wilzig lay, now headless. Kneeling as a coughing fit captures me. I dig into my pocket retrieving the chem and my inhaler. The weakness being taken away, the hurt in my bones being lifted, and the sweet lull of her voice now present in my ears. I take another inhale, just for shits and giggles. Call me guilty, but I just want to see her again. The more I do the more I’m able to see sweet hallucinations of her. 

I look up seeing the ghostly figure of her waving through the sand. She stares at the body of the Doctor with wide eyes. "Well, he must've said something mean." I let the corner of my mouth tug in a grin. "Come on, let's go find the rest of him." I begin to walk again, watching the dream of her pacing around before my eyes. The dog in tow of my shadow.

The trail of footprints leads to a tiny pit stop. A small bar and a row of cabins across the way. In all my travels I hadn't seen this place before. Seems I missed some things when I was buried in a box for 30 years.

Fucking Dom Pedro, I'll be coming for that ass one day.

I walk into the bar, the crowd slim. The bartender wiping a glass looks at me with nervous eyes. The young kid couldn't have been but 17. I lean on the worn wooden top. "You see a girl come through here? Decapitated head with her?" He looks over his shoulder, gazing at a door before thinking twice. Bingo. He shakes his head, "No, no one passed through here. Just the regulars for Melody." "Well, can I speak to this, Melody?"

"She's not here." A ghoul spoke. "Yeah? She ain't back there hiding?" I point back towards the door. "Don't mind if I check do you?" I walk over to grasp the knob. As I do the fellow ghoul pulls his gun up, but I pull my trigger first blasting a hole into his abdomen. I turn around, addressing the whole establishment. "Now, if ya'll don't mind. I'll be taking a tour." Without any protest, I enter the room.

The small room is lit by several small lamps. A vanity mirror against the wall, and makeup littering the top. I walk along the empty room the space feeling relaxing. déjàvu at its finest. I could almost... smell her. I run a hand over a beaded outfit, a stage costume. I take the fabric off the floor and look at it at full length. I shutter an exhale dropping the dress to the floor.

I move to the wall across the way, my breath getting caught in my throat. Posters from the movies we had done. Her album covers line the walls. One individual catches my eye. The while smiles of two lovers on a Christmas evening. I run my finger over her face. Could it be? Could this Melody... be my (Y/n)? I take the photo tucking it into the inner rim of my hat.

I exit the building, more determined than ever to find the target. Where the head was, she was, and if it was really her... I don't know what I would do first. Question her of her every move, or instantly attack her with starving passion. A starving man who’s ached for her touch for over 200 years.

~

Lucy gasps as she stops. "Look!" She peeps in a hushed voice. A baby deer pokes its head from the grass near the water. I roll my eyes at her incompetence. Such a simple-minded motherfucker. I dig for a cracker in my bag and hand it to her. "Go and feed it if you want." Her eyes got even larger I was worried they'd pop from her head. She nears the animal with a smile, leaning down she feeds the baby the cracker. She smiles and looks back at me. I shake my head with my arms crossed. "She's like a toddler," Conor whispers from behind. "Yep."

Suddenly the deer was snatched into the water. A gulper lunges out of the water and snaps at Lucy. "Ah, shit!" I yell as I rush to her side, dragging her away. Conor shoots it in the side, but as we know these motherfuckers are tough. It snatches at her hands, getting hold of the head and retreating back underwater. Lucy stands as she chases the creature's current across the lake. "Wait, Lucy, wait!" I yell as I run after her.

Just as I come to see her, a figure looms over her hunched body, pointing his gun at Lucy. She exhales a small breath and smiles, "Hello again." I raise my gun in haste pointing it at the figure. He's yet to notice me behind him. I continue to creep silently behind his body.

"Where is it?" He kicks around her bag, "The head." He whips her across the face with the butt of his gun.

I press the barrel of my gun to his back. His entire body stills as I apply pressure."Is that how you treat a lady?" The Ghoul tips his head, his face hidden, "Well," I can hear the smirk in his voice, "You gonna pull that trigger darlin'?" I look him up and down, something strangely familiar about him. "I might. Haven't had had a thrill in a while." Conor comes out of the shrubs as well, weapon drawn. The Ghoul looks over the new arrival, his tongue darting out of his mouth. A dark fire in his expression as he glares at my backup. He draws faster than I had ever seen before shooting Conor dead on the spot. I scream in shock, no one in the 30 years had he ever been caught off guard.

I look up to see The Ghoul with his weapon now raised to me. "This ain't the greeting I'd had hoped, darlin'." I lunged at him, grabbing and clawing at his frame. "YOU MOTHER FUCKER!" He tosses me off and gets on top of me, straddling my body as I roll in the dirt. He grabs my hands forcefully and ties them tightly together. I glare at him as I smell the crimson blood flow from Conor's body. "Fuck you!" I scream at him. He glares at me, meeting my orbs. I suck in a breath, his glare making me cower, making me weak. "You upset I shot your little boyfriend, honey?" He laughs as he stands, dragging me beside Lucy. She cries for Conor, spewing apologies.

The Ghoul points his gun at Lucy questioning about the head once more. She shuddered, "I-I don't know where it is, okay? I lost it. I lost it." I watch him shake his head. He meets my eyes again. They soften slightly. I couldn't look away from him. I wanted to lean into the touch of his gloved hand. "Where'd it go, sweetheart? Huh?" The answer falls from my lips. "A Gulper got it." He smirks before tipping my chin, "Good girl."

I stare at Conor's body slowly coming to the realization. He was gone. My friend, my brother, now lay dead in the dirt. What the fuck was I going to do now? He was the one who knew all the code when an issue occurred, all the maintenance, all the parts, and the work it took to maintain my memory drive. If I didn’t have my drive reloaded onto the memory stick I would start shorting out.

I look at the blades of grass stained with my friend's blood. This Ghoul stings Lucy up to a pull system rig. "Stop, please! My dad, he's an Overseer. He-he got taken by raiders, and I need that head to get him back. If you help me find him, he'll do whatever you want." Lucy begs as she cries out. He drops her into the water, calmly turning to me watching as the worry grows. "You're going to kill her!" "Oh please," He brings Lucy back up, and she struggles to catch her breath. "Stop. Stop! Torture is wrong," Lucy coughs. The Ghoul leans on the post. "You know, they used to do these things called "studies." Why, you couldn't open a newspaper without reading about one study or another. Anyway, this one particular study came out, and it said that torturing a person doesn't do shit." He drops her back down into the water. I look at him curiously. Those were prewar references. Studies in the newspaper.

I remember Cooper making the same complaint. “Can’t turn a page without one popping out at you.” He’d roll his eyes as he turned the page. The memory pushed a ghostly smile on my lips.

He brings her up again. Lucy cries loudly, "Sir, please, I need the head. It's the only way I can get my father back." He ignores her, "My point is... if you ask me, them studies, they were right. Torturing a person don't do shit." Lucy shakes her head in confusion, "Then why... why are you doing this?" I huff, struggling against my binds. "He's using you as fucking bait, Lucy!" The Ghoul drops her down once more. I slip from the rope and go to tackle the Ghoul. I punch and roll him away, getting to my feet and raising Lucy just in time for the Gulper to jump from the water. It attaches to her feet as I pull her back. Lucy tosses anything she can at the Gulper, including the stranger's bag. I light a flare and throw it into the Gulper's mouth. It shrieks before releasing Lucy's leg and retreating into the water.

The Ghoul stands with fury in his eyes. He points the gun at us with a firm hand. He makes eye contact with me and huffs lowering the weapon. He reaches inside his bag, pulling out a small case, upon opening shards of glass fall out. His breath becomes even more rigid. The anger unleashed, “FUCK!” He screamed out.

I push a laugh and sneer at him, “serves you right.” He glares at me while pointing a gloved finger at my chest, “Shut your fuckin’ mouth.” He grabs hold of my throat, “or I’m gonna have to shut it for you.” He tosses me aside.

Lucy gathers herself on her knees, "You can't treat people like this!" The Ghoul looks over the water. "Yeah? Why's that?" "Because of the golden rule." I roll my eyes at her, "It's not the fucking time, Lucy." She shakes her head and continues, "Do unto others as you would have done unto you." The Ghoul ignores her, muttering under his own breath. "Those Gulpers digest real slow. You got time." He turns on his heel. He kneels to Lucy on the ground binding her hands together. He turns to me, "You." He places the loop end of his lasso around my neck and tightens it. He glares into my eyes as he tugs it, "Come on."

He tugs me behind him, Lucy following as well. "Where are we going? What about the head? I need the head to get my dad back." The Ghoul continues walking, "Yeah, well, the Wasteland's got its own golden rule." "Oh? What's that?"

I say without thought, "Thou shalt get sidetracked by bullshit every goddamn time." The Ghoul looks back at me as we track through the greenery. He stares into my eyes, his lips drawing into a smirk.

We walk through the noon wasteland heat, the sun hitting high in the sky beating down. Lucy gasps in small breaths. Her steps closer together as she staffers, her exhaustion battling. "Do you plan on stopping for a break? Or are you going to drag my ass through this hellhole?" The Ghoul looks to his side catching my features. I was in perfect condition. I could travel for miles unfazed, but Lucy looked like she was about to fall over. If I was to get anywhere near Hank MacLean, I needed his daughter alive. "Ain't stopping for shit." I watch his features contort. He's in pain. I lean into his space, our arms brushing. "I have a vial in my bag." I offer him. "If you allow us to stop, even for just an hour, I'll give it to you." The Ghoul stares at me, the ache in his bones growing. He didn’t have much of an option. If he had any brains left at all he’d take the deal.

"Fine." He huffs as he spins me around and digs into my bag. "Side pocket." He dips his hand down, skimming my side through the thick fabric of the bag, still a shiver runs up my spine. A long-forgotten feeling I didn’t want resurfacing.

I grit my teeth, "Watch it, cowboy." He smirks, showing his teeth, and biting his lip slowly. I take in every movement, my body unable to stop this natural attraction. Such a familiar urge pulling in my core. The familiarity in his eyes fights the harsh demeanor confusing me even more.

He grabs the glass vile, applying pressure to my side as he pulls his hand out. "Sorry, darlin'." He steps closer, running his fingers on the skin of my neck, I close my eyes as I get drunk on his touch. He loosens the rope on my neck, taking it over my head. "Go on, then. Rest.”

I turn to tend to Lucy. Allowing her to sip the little water we had left. “Thank you.” She croaks. “Don’t thank me yet, Lucy.” I look behind me seeing the Ghoul watching with his hat tipped ever so slightly. He watches with a smirk, staring directly at my frame. I feel that same shiver in my spine and I take a breath. Beyond him was a large building, halfway buried in the sand. The land resembles the once-thriving town. The current building was the movie theater, next to that was the restaurant, and down the way was a candy shop.

I grab Lucy’s arm pulling her with me to the building to take advantage of the shade. “Stay here.” I pass her the canister of water and silently move my way toward the entrance of the abandoned building.

I wander deep into the halls, most of the rooms torn apart with little to salvage. I see a poster crumpled under my shoes. I move the rubble to get a better look. I laugh lightly, bending down to retrieve it. A movie poster. One of his favorites actually. The special movie he was able to make with Rosevelt. I pick it up with a small grin.

“Anything in here worth a shit?”

I turned to see the Ghoul as he silently leaned against the doorway. I folded the worn faded poster quickly, stuffing it into my bag before shaking my head. “Nope. Just some junk.” His eyes shifted to my bag quickly. I push past him in search of caps, food, anything to distract me from dipping into forbidden waters.

“Then what’s that?” He grabs my bag tugging it down my arm. “Hey!” I fight for it back but he pulls the crumpled post out. Barely recognizable, but I knew what it was, who it was. “Give that back, fucking asshole.”  

The Ghoul laughs as he holds the poster out for his viewing eyes. He reads off the words, his southern drawl thick in his words, “Cooper Howard staring in A Man and His Dog.” He looks down at me. He raises a hairless brow, “this your type of thing?” I snatch the poster from his gloved hand. “It’s a good movie.” “Cute dog.” I stuff the worn paper down into my bag. “Best fucking dog around.”

I venture to the next room. The projection booth remained pretty untouched. Being tucked away from most wanderers. I look over my shoulder seeing the Ghoul leaning against the door frame with a shameless smirk. “Why are you following me around? She'll make a break for it if you’re not around.”

“Nah, I doubt she’ll be able to run.” He lifts himself from the door, his boots scuffling the floor with each step. I look between each case, and box, only finding a handful of caps. “I’m more concerned bout you, darlin’.” I turn around, having to back up into the shelves. His face is at a perfect angle. I can truly see him.

He takes one step closer, pinning me to the bookcase. My breath shutters as I inhale, soaking him in. He bores into my eyes silently. Words are not spoken but a conversation is taking place. One I am unable to hear. A private conversation between souls. I crave him, this stranger with the familiar glow. He runs a finger over my bottom lip. I turn my head away, but he readjusts it to meet his gaze. He dips his head lower, our faces inches from each other. "What are you doing?" The Ghoul's smirk rises again. "Just takin a look." He pulls a case from the shelve. "Ain't this you?" The film being a musical I starred in. I look at him curiously. "You know me, cowboy?" He shrugs, his hat shielding his features once more, "Well, that depends." He raises his head, allowing his orbs to pop through. "You know me?"

I stare at him, the missing pieces of a puzzle I didn't know needed solving. He felt so familiar. He knew of a life before the bombs, maybe that's why the connection was there.

A loud scream breaks me from my trance. I push past him and race outside. Lucy tied to a wooden beam in the front kicks at a rad roach with a panicking whine. I shoot the bugs with an annoyed expression. "Calm down would you?" She shakes, her eyes wide, "Those things were about to eat my toes!" She panics as she pulls against her binds.

We continue on walking through the wasteland to some unknown destination. The Ghoul walks behind Lucy and me; making sure we advance on his path. He stares at me with each step. His eyes glassed over slightly. The one vial only would hold his pain over for so long.

Lucy pants in the sun her legs threatening to fail her. "Melody. Do... Do you have any more water?" I shaky my head at her with a sympathetic look. She turns to look at the Ghoul. "Sir. Sir, please. I need water. Please." He goes and pulls out his canteen, opens the lid, drinks the remaining water, and even dumps out the last drops onto the sand. I shake my head at him. Such a petty man. Lucy's pants of dehydration make him smirk. He looks me up and down. "How come you're all dandy? Hadn't seen you want for nothing." "I don't need water." "Everyone needs water." I shake my head, "Not me." The Ghoul challenges again, "Well why the fuck not?" I sneer at him with a smirk, "I guess you'll just have to wait and find out." He smirks, his teasing behavior continuing, building the tension between us. "Shit, darlin', I like surprises."

I could feel his wandering eyes rake over my body. The burning gaze made my hair stand and my stomach turn. Passing a building, a groan and a shout ring out. "Roger! My name is Roger!" The Ghoul makes Lucy enter first. He places a hand on my lower back, "Come on, darlin'." I fight the urge to lean into his touch, in hopes he would use both his hands.

Upon entering we see a man sitting and thrashing on the sand. "Roger. My name is Roger." He's going down and fast. I press my lips together watching the stranger twist in pain. "Roger. Roger. My name... is Roger!" He screams out again. The Ghoul leans down in front of the turning Ghoul.

"Hey, Rog." He focused his gaze, a small smile coming up at the sight. "Hey. Hey. Fancy seeing you out here. You out for that bounty, too, huh?" He nods, "Yep." Roger unwillingly snarls and wails. The Ghoul looks towards his acquaintance. "How you feeling?"

Roger chuckles after a harsh exhale. "Oh... You know... it's hard out here. Dang smoothies can be so unkind." Roger turns to look toward Lucy and I. He points at me with a chuckle. "Hey! I saw you not too long ago. Sang that one song, real pretty but real sad, about going to your grave." I push a smile, "Yeah, I wrote that a while back. Glad you enjoyed it." Roger huffs looking towards the Ghoul. "Got yourself a nice-looking smoothie. Sings like an angel." He snarls loudly making Lucy jump.

"You're turning." Roger grunts, "Yeah. Yeah, maybe. Maybe. Hey, you-you don't happen to have any vials, do you? Just one little puff and I'll be back on my feet. You know I'm good for it." The Ghoul shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Roger. I'm all out." Roger holds his hands up, "That's okay. That's okay. Though, um, you and your smooth-faced friends, you, um... might want to clear out... before things get ugly." He snarls loudly. I kneel, smiling at Roger. I began to sing the lyrics he spoke of.

It's sooner than later that I'm six feet under

It's sooner than later that you'll be alone

So who will you turn to tomorrow, I wonder?

For when the bombs drop, lover, you're on your own

Roger smiles at me as the words echo in the beaten-up building. His eyes glossing over, he's almost completely gone.

I am the one who you let see you weeping

I know the soul that you struggled to save

Too bad I'm the bet that you lost in the reaping

Now what will you do when I go to my grave?

His eyes close as he sways. As the last word leaves my mouth a shot rings out, splattering Roger's brain on the back wall. Lucy covers her mouth, tears rolling down her cheeks. "Wh... why?" I look back at her. "You're going to have to toughen up, kid. It was for the better." The Ghoul spends no time putting his gun back in his holster and flipping Roger over. I scoff as he cuts into his flesh, skinning him in strips.

The Ghoul brings a slice up to his lips taking a large bite. Lucy gags and protests, "Stop. Stop, stop. Please, I... No, I know it's hard up here, but you don't... you don't have... you don't have to resort to... to..." The Ghoul looks up from his work with a question. "What'd you say your name was?" "Lucy MacLean." The Ghoul stills, he turns to face us, an unreadable expression as he speaks, "MacLean? Huh." He begins his work again, "Well, Lucy MacLean, it ain't all canned peaches and marmalade left up here, sweetheart. Sometimes a fella's got to eat a fella." Lucy pushes her point even further. "You know, my vault has endured hardship, too. In the Great Plague of '77, everyone had to quarantine, they couldn't work the farms together. People starved. My mother included. My dad dropped to 128 pounds, and he still refused to do anything like this." I laugh at her words. She looks at me with wonder, "What? What's so funny?" I shake my head at her, distracting myself with the broken plates on the floor. "No, no, nothing. I feel for him. Must've been so hard." My sarcastic tone is thick in my words. The Ghoul chuckles, "There's what people say they did and what they really did. I'll bet your daddy was first in line at the cookout. I bet he had a bib with a drawing of his neighbor's ass on there." I laugh at his words. "That's funny."

Lucy looks at me in disbelief. "How do you live like this? Why keep going?" The Ghoul turns to her, a glare in his eyes. He stands and stalks towards her, a smirk playing on his lips. "Well, one good question deserves another." He turns the handle of the knife to Lucy, "Why the fսck am I doing all the work? Now come on, Vaultie. Ass jerky don't make itself."

[ameagrice]

Genesis

chapter three

summary: you begin the journey across the country with two adults who couldn’t hate you more.

Marlene handed you over to them without hesitation. Take her, she yelled, getting away before FEDRA showed up. Get her there, Joel!

Now, Joel is a man you decide to be in his late forties, with greying hair, and a pissed-off-don’t-talk-to-me look about him. He’d looked at you with nothing but distain the second Marlene hauled off.

Here’s how it went:

“She’s immune, Tess. No—listen! I know what you’re thinking, but I’ve seen it. I’ve watched her for a week. She’s immune.” Those words meant nothing to Tess, a woman near Joel’s age, with also greying, brown hair and a piss-me-off-and-I’ll-kill-you look about her. They’re a team, this Joel and Tess. They’re going to take her across the country and hand her over to them when they arrive, them, being Marlene’s team.

“Do you have a clue what’s out there?” Joel spat, waving his gun around. Slight exaggeration—he waved it. Marlene pressed her hand against her stomach, against the blood bulging out there, breathing deeply.

“Of course I do! But, do this for me, and you can have whatever supplies you want for however long you want. I promise. You’ll have no trouble from us. We’ll help you out—the Fireflies; if you need protection, we will—”

“Yeah, alright, Marlene,” Tess scoffed. She paced the rotting hall, floorboards creaking, all the while the sound of FEDRA got closer. She stopped short and shared a look with Joel. Neither of them had spoken to you, like you were invisible, an imaginary thing they could only talk about. “What are you thinking?”

Marlene huffed. Your head turned like a ping-pong ball, this way and that, between the three adults. “Y’all talk it out, but remember I’m bleeding here!”

The pair talked amongst themselves for a few seconds, in a corner of the hall, voices hushed. Finally, just as the flashing lights arrived through the grimy windows, Tess strolled over, picking up your knife from the floor—you had unsuccessfully tried to stab Joel. Feral, he had called you, you want us to take this feral kid?

“We get all the guns we want,” she declared. “Accommodation when we need it, and food, medication. We get this kid there unharmed, and we have a deal. Agreed?”

“Yes!” Marlene snapped, rolling off her leaning stance against the wall. “Can we go before we’re hanged?”

“What?!” You shrieked. Even now, you remember the way Tess had looked at you: like you were one of the decaying infected out behind the walls. “I’m not going with them! Marlene—!” These people were strangers, and clearly thugs—trading you for guns.

Her eyes pleaded with you, weak, and walking backward to the exit. “I’ll meet you on the other side, alright? Now go!” Cops began yelling outside. “Take her! Get her there, Joel!”

Tess snatched your elbow with a strong grip, fingers digging in hard. She pulled you along, through a gap in the wall you hadn’t seen. “Get down the ladder. Move.”

“Fuckin’ Marlene,” Joel grumbled above you, climbing down after you, marshmallowed between the two adults. “ ‘S exactly what we need. Where now?”

“Back to the apartment,” Tess demands. “We’ll figure it out there.” Tess is strong of tone and sure of herself, and it’s intimidating. Joel is harsh-toned and refuses to look at you, which might be worse. Either way, you’re feeling pretty intimidated by these adults.

Town is crawling with cops, even more than usual. They’re raiding the building and the ones around it forcing people out into the thunderstorm raging overhead, even the kids. The sky is dark, plummets of rain forcing down on everyone’s heads. Tess and Joel crouch by the staircase of which you’ve emerged by, looking left and right before Joel runs across, straight into an alley opposite. He holds against the wall and peers out, before gesturing for Tess to follow. She snatches your wrist and gets to her feet, looking around as you run. Her longer strides yank you along at an impossible speed, and if she wasn’t holding on tight, you would have tripped from the get-go.

They seem to know their way easily. Up the rusty steps of a fire escape stairwell, through that door at the top and round a block of apartments, down, down, down until you’re back on the ground floor. Then it’s across another street, through barbed-wire topped alleyways, until they’re slowing, ducking into an apartment block. The hallways are covered in wilting wallpaper, and dirty hardwood. Some people are home, voices floating through their apartment doors. Tess has long since let you go, so you opt for trailing after them up the stairs to the third floor, all the way to the end of the hallway, to a door on the right. Tess unlocks the beaten door with a set of jingling keys, pushing it open.

“Get in,” she orders, so you trudge between the adults into the apartment, where the door swings shut behind you. Instantly you’re on guard.

“Hey!” You try the handle, giving the door a strong pull, to no avail—someone’s holding it on the other side. You drop your hand and press your ear to the door, trying to listen to them. All you get is muffled words—voices low.

You take the time to look around. It’s small. The wallpaper is floral and faded—not something you’d have imagined people like Tess and Joel to have in their home. A slouchy sofa sits by the window, a side table beside it and a coffee table opposite. In the adjoining kitchen are the typical, worn cupboards in nearly every facility in the Zone, a table and chairs set neatly in the middle. Curtains, a painted butterfly in the window, and a couple of pictures standing on the window ledge: Tess and a little boy. Joel and another man. None of Tess and Joel together, which you think is relatively strange.

The door open jolts you back into the living room. It’s Joel, only Joel, rubbing his forehead like he has a headache.

You hesitate before you speak. “Where’s Tess?”

Joel ignores you, sitting down on the sofa and leaning his head back.

“When are we leaving?”

“I don’t know.” Hm. Progress.

“What are we doing now?”

“Waiting.”

“Well, what am I supposed to do?”

“Figure it out.”

You huff, turning in a circle for something to do. Joel appears to fall asleep, and you wave a hand in front of his face daringly, testing a response. He doesn’t budge.

The shelf holding papers and books looks interesting. You take a slim one from the end, American Woman. At first it’s good enough—new books are always good at first. But it soon proves boring, and you dump it back where you found it. It’s still drizzling outside, and the sky is darkening with nightfall instead of thunderclouds, by the time Joel wakes and Tess returns.

“You got a coat in that pack?” She asks you, and you nod your head. “Good. It’s time to go.”

She and Joel spends a few minutes throwing things into their backpacks, things from the kitchen—rations, bottles of water, the pictures and things from the bedroom and bathroom. You can’t fit your whole life into bags, so when they’re not looking, you take some memorabilia from here, too, to remember your pit stop: the butterfly in the kitchen window, a book. Your own belongings—the small amount of things you own—are in there, too, stolen from your dormitory after Marlene’s group caught you. Your hairbrush, the water bottle from the night, your necessities. There are a couple of tees and leggings, too, and a book of your own, and finally your precious Walkman. The only things you own. Ironically, a Firefly also shoved in your grey hooded jacket, lettered in gold: FEDRA TRAINEE. Because that’s what you are. You don’t doubt they didn’t take it for what you’re training to become, though, and more for warmth. In a few weeks the temperatures will fall even further.

Tess is fumbling around in the bathroom while Joel sits waiting on the sofa, elbows on his knees, silent. He hasn’t looked at you still, and it’s grinding on your anxious nerves. You’re going beyond the walls of the Zone. This won’t be like exploring with Rudy, where your biggest threats are gangs and older men. No, out there, your biggest threat is also the source of all your confusion.

“We’re gonna be okay out there, right?” Your words cut through the silence like a knife. Joel opens his eyes, blinking at the wall next to your head. “I mean, you’ve done this before, haven’t you? So we’re gonna be okay.”

Finally, those empty eyes land on your own. He doesn’t speak for a second, just searching your face. Then he sighs through his nose slowly and nods his head. “Yeah.”

That one word is enough of a prompt to get you to your feet, abandoning the arm of the chair. Thunder cracks and rumbles in the distance; you turn your head to watch at the window.

“Alright,” Tess strolls in. “Time to go.”

You’ve shrugged on your FEDRA trainee jacket and pulled up the hood, laying on the thin black coat Marlene dug up from somewhere for you. There wasn’t much need for proper coats at the school: you never left the walls of the building unless on a guided walk by the guards, and even that was rare. The times you slipped out around the Zone were only because Rudy had the guts to go and drag you with him. In the winter, Rudy’s inquisitive nature was a curse.

Tess leads the way down the apartment block with Joel calling out questions to her, that have no real meaning to you: exit round the back or the slow way? should we drop by the South end first?

FEDRA presence is still very, very strong. They’re storming the streets, even in this awful rainstorm, their radioes blaring directions and muffled tones from the headquarters. Tess stops by the front door and turns her head this way and that before she sets off with a hand to the hood of her jacket. For a second, you watch as the rain bounces off of it like pelts, until Joel shoves you firmly in the back with a strong hand, almost winding you. You trail after Tess with a hammering heart, wishing somebody were here to save you. What would they do, really, if you approached a FEDRA officer and explained you were being smuggled across the country by two random strangers? But then, you would have to explain why you were being smuggled by two random strangers, and it wouldn’t end well.

“Keep your head down,” he mutters, jogging after you. “Follow Tess.”

It’s easier to do as he says, though everything in you is screaming to yell back. Tess is almost a blur of khaki as she zips through streets and people, until you reach a barren area full of wilting, soggy boxes. You don’t ask where you are, and don’t have much chance to, before Tess is crouching and yanking on a drain cover. She looks up to Joel, eyes falling to you, and back again.

“I’ll head down first,” she breathes, ditching the dirty cover. “Get a look at the other end. If I come back, we’re all clear, if I don’t…”

Joel nods his head, expression unclear. Is that the only look he has? He guides you to the wall and you’re pliant, while he stands at the end of the street keeping watch. You’re tempted to follow Tess anyway and avoid being stuck here with Joel any longer, but before you know it, she’s back, lifting herself out of the drain. Joel turns.

“Alright,” she nods. “Let’s go.”

It’s so dark, even with Tess’s flashlight. Joel digs around for one too, in his pack, and you travel between them in the cramped drain. It’s barely big enough to crouch for you, never mind Tess and Joel. But they manage. It smells of shit and drains and dirty water, but it’s surprisingly empty, besides the odd sprinkling of moss and weeds growing. You stop and listen every few yards, before Tess waves you onward. The irrational fear of the drain being filled with water starts to become overwhelming just as you approach the decline and the raising ceiling. It leads out to a small running river, where Joel rises to his feet and stretches his strong arms above his head. His back pops and echoes. You scrunch your nose.

Tess has moss in her tied-up hair by the time she and Joel walk off down the embankment, and you wait a second to see what happens. They don’t turn back around, talking only in hushed voices with a lot of hand movement. You blink, feeling slightly dejected. FEDRA won’t have you back, Marlene passed you off like a broken clock, and now the two people who promised to get you to wherever the Fireflies are, are just walking off without you. Maybe they think you’ll just run after them. After all, it’s dark and you’re without a flashlight in a place you’ve never been before.

And if they thought that, they’d be right.

You sprint after them, slowing by the stream, and begin to panic as their lights disappear, turning the corner. You’re blindly stepping up an incline, beginning to get nervous.

“Tess?” You try, voice echoing. You guess you’re under some sort of tunnel, or bridge. With no answer, your heart speeds up. “Tess?!”

A flashlight appears around the corner, a tall figure looking very pissed off. An annoyed Joel, waiting on you. Although Joel’s presence doesn’t exactly calm your nerves, it calms a section of them, and you scurry to him like a scared kid. Which is definitely not what you are.

“Move it,” he hisses, waving his flashlight on the path. Something twangs in your chest, and you walk with your head down past the man. When you catch up, Tess is kneeling, pulling weeds and brambles away from another tunnel. She grimaces, looking down at her hands. The tunnel looks eery and grim, and you really don’t want to go down there.

“Alright,” she sighs, turning her head to meet your slightly-anxious gaze. “It’s just through here. When we go through here, don’t make a sound. Got it? There’s a lot of FEDRA on the other side tonight. If they catch us, we’re all dead. Understand?”

You nod frantically, mutely. Better to be quiet now. She hums, and holds your gaze for a second before the pair of light eyes move away.

This tunnel is arguably better, but it’s still a tunnel. By the time you’re out, you’re breathless and breathing deep, and your back is aching. You get to your feet and brush off your knees. You’re finally outside of the Zone.

“No fuckin’ way!” You laugh. Tess shushes you, but doesn’t look angry. The three of you walk in silence, sneaking around the debris scattered here, until you turn the corner. There’s a bit of light coming from the wall by the Zone’s entrance and a car engine rumbles, but so far, there are no guards this far out.

Until Tess slams to a stop, holding her arm out to stop you, too. Joel steps back, tilting his head slightly. They share a look, some form of silent communication, and then Joel nods his head, stepping out quietly. You and Tess follow him.

“Hey—hey! Stop! Fucking stop where you are!”

You freeze on the spot, gaze falling to the guard who’s fumbling for his gun laying against the wall. Tess sighs heavily.

“Hey, come on, man, just forget we were here!”

“Forget it?” He laughs. By now he has his gun in one hand, and has brought out the scanner used to detect Cordyceps in the other. “Hands up. Get on your knees. I said get on your fucking knees!”

You shift on your feet, looking to Tess for guidance. She’s visibly angry and nervous. Her eyes meet yours, looking to Joel. “Just get on your knees. Just get down.”

The three of you kneel with your hands behind your head in a line, while the guard goes to Tess first. The scanner bleeds green light, and Tess scoffs, whipping her head around to glare at him. “Seriously, man?!”

“Yeah, seriously. We’re doing this by the book. Unauthorised exit out of a Quarantine Zone—they’ll hang you for that.”

“Look, you let us go, we’ll give you half off on the next run,” Joel bribes.

“Half off? All off. For the rest of the fucking year.”

It beeps green at Joel’s neck, and he approaches you.

“Look, you let us do this, and let’s just forget about it all.”

The scanner beeps, and you already know what the colour will be. Determined not to let Joel and Tess kill you, you turn abruptly and knock the scanner from the guard’s hand, he yells, and reach for your knife from your pocket, digging it right in his thigh. Tess shouts something furious at you, while the guard screams in painc dropping the scanner. He dives for his gun as you get to your feet, aiming for your head, retreating in sudden fear.

Joel moves in front of you. “Stop! We can talk this out!”

He’s relentless. “Move.” The light from the gun is blinding, bright and unmoving. “I said, move.” The gun clicks, and Joel doesn’t hesitate. He throws himself at the guard, the two practically wrestling. Joel gets a hit in, hard, and the guard goes down, trying to get his hands around Joel’s throat. You can hear your pulse in your ears, watching Joel’s fist go down over and over against the guard’s head, until he relents, heaving for breath with a bloody, shaking fist. The man on the ground doesn’t move.

You’re transfixed, barely able to believe what Joel has done. It’s horrifying and gross, but Joel saved your life in doing so. He’s staring at the man, catching his breath.

Movement on the ground behind you prompts you to step aside, heart plummeting to your stomach. Tess has picked up the scanner, and looks between the scarlet colour illuminating her face, to your own, an unfathomable look. She looks away, at Joel.

“Joel!” She calls, and you try to snatch it from her; she leans away, holding it out of your reach, showing Joel. He doesn’t move, doesn’t look away from the scanner showing red, a look you can’t describe.

“No,” you try. “I’m not sick! I’m not infected!”

“Joel!” She barks, kicking the man into action.

“Oh yeah?” He exclaims, taking the scanner from Tess’s outstretched hand. “Then explain this.”

“Look, I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not sick. Believe me!” You try, flaying your hands. Tess raises to her feet, and clutches her gun, raising it level with you. “I swear! Please just believe me—”

“Why should we?”

That’s when the sound of vehicles get closer, the familiar hum of FEDRA cars. Searchlights grow brighter. Tess and Joel share a look of desperation. The man reaches down and swipes you up by the strap of your backpack, pulling you along almost quicker than your feet can catch up. Tess sprints alongside, shutting off her flashlight. You’re running practically blind, with only Joel’s guiding hand on your back to lead you in the right direction.

Somewhere in the distance, an Infected screams, and behind you, FEDRA grow closer; you have no choice but to keep going, trusting Tess and Joel with your life.

[mylovelies-docx]

Sorry, I Love You - Part 7

Heyooooooooooo. I'm back and there are no longer any parts backlogged - I'mma have to get to work on finishing this series lol

Plot: You and Bucky have a good thing going - best of friends that also have more than a little chemistry between the sheets. Everything is fine until you develop feelings for the man who doesn't want a relationship. What will happen when Bucky finds out?

C/W: Meeting new people, feels

Word Count: 1,900

Tag List: NOW CLOSED! If you'd like to keep up with this story, please follow my blog and turn on notifications! ❤️ you :)

[Prologue][Part 1][Part 2][Part 3][Part 4][Part 5][Part 6]

The sunset blazes through the kitchen window, bathing you and Bucky in soft golden light. The focus you had not even five minutes ago is a distant memory when faced with the view in front of you. Bucky looks so fine sitting across from you with the light shadowing one side of his face and illuminating his shorter hair. 

You still can’t get over the fact that Bucky actually cut it – you’d mentioned a haircut on more than one occasion, but he’d always brushed it off and said it wasn’t his style anymore. You disagreed then and you absolutely disagree now. His long hair was gorgeous in its own right, but nothing compares to the uninhibited view of his face now. His hair is mussed in spiky clumps where Bucky has run his fingers through it in frustration, but you can’t help but think how good it looks even like this.

You’re pretending to type something on your laptop, ensuring Bucky thinks that you’re actually working and not staring at him like the love-struck idiot you are. Every once in a while you’ll catch his eyes flickering up to meet yours, so all you can do is act like you’re thinking about something really hard and you’d just so happened to have blanked out on him. 

It’s been quiet between the two of you for the last 30 minutes – the vigor and excitement for planning ratcheting down once you got into the gritty details. That’s why you’re not expecting the thump, thump, thump that echoes down the hallway from the front door. Bucky’s head jerks up and he looks at you with a quirked eyebrow, asking silently if you knew someone was coming over. You shake your head and rise from the table. 

Stepping under the kitchen archway and into the living room, you pad across the carpet and into the entry hall. “Just a moment!” you yell out to the stranger behind the door. Without looking, you slide the dagger hidden inside the entryway table into your hand and approach the door. Rising slightly onto your tiptoes, you peer through the peephole in the door.

A couple stands on your front porch, the view fishbowling to where it appears their middles are huge but their heads and feet are the size of golfballs. You look over your shoulder at Bucky, who stands behind the living room wall with gun ready. You laugh silently and mouth the Greten’s at him. He puffs his cheeks out when he exhales and drops his gun, tucking it into the waistband at the small of his back. You slip your own knife up and into your sleeve.

Opening the door with a reserved but polite smile on your face, you greet the nextdoor neighbors. “Oh, hello! I wasn’t expecting company.”

The tall woman before you blushes slightly and dips her head. “Apologies. We were just wanting to stop by and introduce ourselves. We wanted to wait a day and allow you the time to settle in. I’m Tessa and this is my husband Christopher, we live right over there in the blue house.” Tessa points to the home directly beside yours with several windows boarded over and paint peeling off in some spots.

You smile brightly at the pair and introduce yourself before yelling behind you, “James, we have guests!” Turning back to the couple, you step aside and usher them in. “Come, come! It’s freezing out there.”

Christopher tries to decline, but you won’t hear of it. You and Bucky had already decided to meet and befriend this couple, so them showing up works out well. Their dossiers noted that they were a well-off family that knew everyone and everything going on within the community, but you can’t help but note the discrepancies you find between the surveillance photos taken a year ago and the people in front of you now. 

Christopher’s thinning hair and exposed scalp are covered by a thin toboggan that can’t be effective in this weather, and you see that Tessa’s dress is threadbare with nearly half a dozen patches when she takes off her overcoat. Regardless of the state of their clothing, Tessa offers you the small bowl she’d been holding in her hands.

“It’s my grandmother’s recipe. Everyone says it’s the best they’ve ever had!” She smiles proudly at this statement and you can’t help but grin back.

“Well, I’m excited to try them!”

Bucky walks into the living room, acting as if he hadn’t been behind the wall with a gun only moments ago. You escort Christopher and Tessa further inside and close the door behind them. Bucky walks up and shakes Christopher’s hand and introduces himself. 

“I am so sorry,” you begin, “but I haven’t started on dinner yet. I can whip something up real fast, though!”

“No, no, dear,” Tessa declines. “We didn’t mean to intrude – only wanted to introduce ourselves and then get out of your hair.”

“Nonsense,” you say. “The more the merrier.” You pat Bucky on the shoulder as you walk by him and into the kitchen. “Tessa and I will be in here. I’ll let you guys know when the food is ready.”

Bucky nods and holds his hand out to the couch, offering Christopher a seat. Bucky takes the armchair across from him (which has a loaded gun stuffed between the arm and seat cushion). With your hands full, you look at Tessa and nod your head towards the kitchen.

She starts to shuffle across the living room carpet towards you, her hands clasped in front of her. “We really didn’t mean to intrude on you and your husband. We just –”

You let out a hearty guffaw to mask your displeasure in correcting her and shake your head. “He’s my brother,” you explain to them. 

She stops where she’s at, standing behind the sofa next to Christopher. They share a look with each other before Christopher turns to Bucky. “Brother?” he asks.

You and Bucky look at each other with small grins. There’s no way you could ever pass for blood-relatives.

“He’s adopted,” you say.

“Oh, well in that case,” Tessa says as she continues her walk towards you and the kitchen, “I have a son about your age…”

***

Dinner was a simple affair, but the Greten’s seemed to enjoy it immensely. Barely any food remains on the shared plates in front of you, your guests having taken second and third helpings. You’re glad to see that they enjoyed the meal.

The conversations were very surface level ‘getting to know you’ topics, which is always the most tedious part of meeting new people. But laying the foundation for your life in order to establish your cover sometimes: like now, when you and Bucky can relax into an easy ‘sibling’ rivalry and rib on each other. It keeps everything lighthearted and doesn’t allow you think on how this would have played out differently as ‘husband and wife’.

The couple are in their 50s and have lived in this town their whole lives, so if there’s anything you and Bucky need to find out then they’re probably the ones to help with that. They have 5 children ranging in ages from 28 to 13, all living at home with the exception of the eldest son that Tessa is dying for you to meet.

You laugh merrily as you follow the Gretens back to the front door.

“You both must come,” Tessa is saying as she pulls on her coat. “Most everyone in town is going to be there and they need to meet you.”

Christopher slides the thin toboggan out of his pocket and places it on his head. “You both are going to be a hit: it’s been so long since anyone new has come around.”

Bucky stands next to you and puts his arm on your head, leaning on you as if you were short enough to be leaned on. You scrunch your face and slide out from under him, elbowing him in the side as you do it. “We wouldn’t miss it,” Bucky replies.

“Great!” Tessa claps her hand and ushers Christopher out the door. “Saturday at 9pm. Don’t forget!”

“We won’t,” you agree.

After a quick goodbye, you close and lock the door.

“They were nice…” you begin.

“But…?” Bucky continues.

“But…something isn’t adding up.”

Bucky hums his agreement. 

You both stand at the door, contemplating what could have happened to this sweet couple since the intel was gathered, but without the people in question there to ask (and it being much too rude to ask) there isn’t much point.

You walk away to begin cleaning the kitchen. Tessa offered to help, but you wouldn’t hear of it – after her stories of how hard she’s worked to take care of her family and this community, you couldn’t dream of accepting. Bucky follows you into the kitchen and removes the plates from the table. You work in silence, the camaraderie from dinner fading away into something else. Not uncomfortable, but nowhere near as companionable as the silence used to be in the beginning of the year.

You and Bucky used to lay in the quiet dark after sex. Clothes on the floor, sheets rumpled, hair messy. There wasn’t much that needed to be said that couldn’t wait until after you’d caught your breaths. But the peace that arrived after the frantic activities led to you falling asleep in his arms on more than one occasion.

But you were always alone come morning.

The clack of plates stacking on top of each other rouses you from your thoughts. You’d been mindlessly scrubbing dishes while Bucky dried, but you realize that your hands have been floating in the soapy water with nothing to do. You quickly pull the plug and watch the liquid form a tight spiral over the drain. The glug, glug, glug precedes Bucky as he clears his throat.

“You wanna…” You look up at him as he says this and see him nod his head in the direction of the living room. “Uh. Wanna watch a movie?” His arm scratches nervously at the back of his neck and you can tell he’s uncomfortable. Why would he ask?

“No,” you say. “No, I think I’m gonna go to bed. Tomorrow’s the first day at the facility, ya know?” You give him a brittle smile as you say this. Stepping forward, you make sure not to brush against Bucky as you slide past him and out towards your bedroom. You hear him release a heavy sigh behind you, probably glad that you didn’t take him up on the offer.

He may have only mentioned watching a movie together to be polite, but a couch and a dark room with Bucky hadn’t ended platonically the last several times it’s happened. The memories will probably prevent movie nights together for as long as you still have feelings for him.

Which will mostly likely be for the rest of your life.

@jackiehollanderr @rabbitrabbit12321 @12345sebby @blackwood-bodecker-housewife @lauraashley93 @themorningsunshine @happinessinthebeing @nash-dara @calwitch @stany0url0calwh0res111 @pono-pura-vida @learisa @introverbatim @kentokaze @marvelogic @kaz11283

Part 8

[stardustwritings]

Hi Star, I was wondering if you can write for Leon x Fem reader where the reader and Leon are on mission together to save Ashley during RE4. Leon and reader are in love with each other but they haven't confessed until reader almost dies.

If not that's okay. Have a nice day/night :)

Resident Evil Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader: “You can’t die on me yet!”

Warings: Spoilers for RE4 Remake, Violence, Guns, Drowning, Almost dying.

Pronouns: (She/Her)

A/N: Hi! Thank you so so much for requesting you’re my second request and I’m so excited!! I really really hope you enjoy this fic and I hope to get requests from you in the future. Thank you! Also I’m sorry for the wait, i’ve been so busy. I promise any future requests will not take this long 😭

Running through the graveyard, you and Leon run for the gate just ahead that lead to the church. With a grunt Leon pushed the gate open and then closed as you went ahead to the second gate in front of the door inside. You shook it a couple times trying to get it open.

“Damn it- Leon it’s locked.” You said looking at him over your shoulder. He started to walk up behind you, he had a look in his eyes as he shook his head.

“But of course. Because when would the two of us ever get a break?” He said with a sigh. His comment made you smile slightly. He was correct of course, the two of you haven’t had a break since you’ve got here. The only thing close to one is the time you’ve spent with the merchant, talking and shopping, without him this trip would of been much worse.

“Well… Let’s call Hunnigan. Might be a good idea to update HQ anyway.” You said leaning back against the gate and looking up at the sky. Leon nodded his head at your words.

“You’re probably right…” He breathed out then placed his finger to his ear and called, “Conder One and Robin Two to Roost. The church is sealed up.”

”And Baby Engle?…” ‘Roost’ or Hunnigan asked in reply.

“Negative. We haven’t found her, yet. This place is locked up tighter than knox…” You told her joining the conversation.

“I see. I can think of one reason they’d want to do so.” Said Hunnigan, they could hear light typing from her keyboard through her mic as she spoke.

“So can I. She’s definitely in there. And we’ll find a way in, one way or another. Conder One and Robin Two out.” Leon told the woman before ending the call. You looked at him standing up straight and going to his side.

“Do you really think she’s in there?…” You asked placing a hand on his shoulder. He paused at your touch and looked you in the eyes. His look made you pause in return. You loved his eyes, and his hair and his jokes and his-… Well you loved him.

You met him after the Raccoon City incident , both of you were survivors. How you managed to survive is a different story, but soon after you found yourself working for the government and meeting the blonde in front of you. Training was a nightmare, but having Leon made it so much better.

“(Y/N)?… Did you here me?” Leon asked titling his head as he looked at you. You removed your hand and gave him a nod looking away to the church.

“Yeah sorry- I zoned out a little uh… Let’s find a way inside.” Your voice was hush as you walked to the side of the church following the wall. Leon watched you go for just a moment before following not wanting you to be left alone.

It didn’t take long for you both to found a small room on the side that was unlocked. It wasn’t connected to the main church but there could be clues on how to get in. Looking around for supplies and answers, Leon’s eyes land on a map and a small note.

“This here says that the key is being held in a cave on the lake-“ He said taking it off the wall then looking at you.

“Then we’ll go to the lake. The signs around said it was just through the gate next door. It’s locked but…” Your eyes landed on a trapdoor in the corner of the room. “I think there may be a way around.” Leon walked up and opened it, shining his flashlight down the hole before looking at you.

“Well… Ladies first.” He said giving a half smirk. You playfully rolled your eyes walking up to him.

“Oh why thank you, what a gentleman.” You said walking pass him and starting to climb down the ladder. You faced him as you descended down, he chuckled softly.

“And watch your step too-“ He said as he made his way down after you, “I won’t be able to catch you from up here-“ He told you smiling.

Shaking your head you left the male on the ladder and followed the light at the end of the small cave, it lead to the other side of the gate just next to the church. You unlocked it just in case then looked to Leon.

He nodded his head down the path then started to walk that way, following you looked around at the world around you. If the people here weren’t crazy infected monsters then this would be like a vacation. Thinking about it you’d love to go on a vacation with Leon. You both needed some time together. You- Your happy thoughts were cut off as Leon put an arm over you and held you back as he peaked over a corner.

“Hostiles… Get your gun.” He whispered softly. You ignored the warmth in your cheeks as you nodded getting it ready. Leon took the first shot and the two of you went into battle. And battled and battled and battled. You were just lucky that he was here to have your back. He always is, it’s one of the reasons you loved him so much.

Throughout the whole fight Leon would warn you if someone was behind you, call out whenever something was thrown your way and freed you from anyone who laid their hands on you. You did the same for him. It’s why you were put on this mission together. It’s why they always put you both together, because you work perfectly together.

That work and care got you through the some cliff side area and through the quarry to thankfully, the merchant. The merchant was glad to see you two, welcoming the both of you in from your battles. You and Leon look at each other with a sigh of relief and buy anything that looked important. After saying your goodbyes you both continued forward.

“He’s always there when we need him.” You mumbled as you stepped out. Leon nodded a bit looking at you then smiled a little.

“Yeah I bet you loveee seeing your boyfriend~” He joked laughing a bit as you playfully hit his arm.

“Oh ha ha. Very funny but he’s not my type Leon.” You replied walking up to a fence blocking off a drop. Placing your arms on the railing you look out over the lake as Leon wondered what your type was exactly. “Hey- there’s some people in the water- On a boat.” You called to Leon as he walked over.

The two of you watched as they dumped a body in the water.

“Fuck…” Leon mumbled and then two seconds later the body was eaten by a large creature they only got to see for just a moment. The two of you stood silently knowing what would come next.

“That um… Cave we have to go there is-…there’s a walk way right?…” You were sheepish as you glanced at Leon. All he did was point to the little docking area across from them. “… Great.” You mumbled then sighed. Leon looked down to you and then gently placed a hand on your back.

“Hey… We… got this okay? In and out. As long as we’re careful I’m sure we’ll be fine.” His voice was soft and comforting, he even gave you a soft smile to reassure you. All you did was smile back and gave him a nod as you both started to make your way down to the lake side.

There was a very tiny boat it looked like it could just fit the two of you. Leon smiled and held his hand out to you then gently helped you down into the boat. Afterwards he followed suit, pulling the cord and starting the little engine.You sat in front and he drove the boat to the little building.

Light from the lowing sun made the lake shine, the whole place in a pretty orange glow.

“Hey…” Leon said to get your attention. “I actually want to talk to you about something while we have a moment… I was thinking maybe after all this… You and me could-“ He cut himself off as the boat slowed then came to a stop.

“Did um… Did you do that?” You asked looking over at him as he looked to the engine and shook his head.

“No?…” He said pulling on the cord trying to get it to start once more. You bit your lip, glancing into the dark water then jumping a little as something hit the bottom of the boat.

“Leon- Please for the love of god get it started already.” He could hear the worry in your voice as you held onto the sides of the boat. But Leon was somewhat lost in thought looking around the calm water of the lake. “Leon?”

He was brought to his senses as the lake monster that ate the body moments ago jumped from the water and over the two. Right after it grabbed onto a rope hanging from the boat and started to pull it along with it. “W-Woah-“ You let out falling a little bit into Leon but he kept you up right in a protective hold as you both were pulled. 

“Now what do we do?!?” You asked looking back at Leon. He glanced at the engine then some harpoons on the floor of the boat.

“You shot I drive- Just another mission… We got this.” He said handing you the harpoons. Have you ever used a thrown weapon? No, but it wasn’t like you had much choice. With Leon keeping the two of you away from rocks and anything floating in the water with you, you fought off the monster.

Things were looking great, with the lake filling up with the beasts blood. Bending down to grab another harpoon, the boat was rocked by the creature just enough to throw you from the ship. You fall backwards into the dark cloudy waters with your heart pounding as you try and swim up. Your lungs started to burn, it was like no matter how much you swam you couldn’t reach the top. The last thing you remember was something moving pass you.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾☆.｡:*.｡.:*☆ ༓･*˚⁺‧͙

……

“(Y/N)?… (Y/N) come please? Don’t give out on me now-“ A muffled voice called as you slowly came two. “God please I- I never got to… Damnit… Come please… You can’t die on me yet. I can’t lose you too… Please… I love you so much don’t do this. I didn’t even get to tell you!” The voice continued then you gasped, all of the water in your lungs coming up and out making you gag.

Gasping for air you held your chest trying to get it out. After a moment you took in the world around you. You make it to the little dock you had seen before. By your side was a soggy Leon who pulled you into a tight hug the second he saw you were okay.

“Oh thank god! I thought I lost you.” He said as you gently pat his back to reassure him.

After a second it hit you. You were alone so the voice you heard had to be Leon’s… And what he had said… Your cheeks reddened as you remembered. Did you imagine it? Miss hear? Either way you were going to ask, you needed to know.

“Leon… What um… We’re you saying before I was completely up? I kinda heard a bit…” Your voice was quiet as Leon froze and glanced away for just a moment.

“O-Oh that uh… Damn it well… I almost lost you and I’m not going to risk it happening again without you knowing.” He said moving closer and taking your hands. “I really really love you… So much… I was even going to ask you out on the boat before that monster came. I couldn’t help it- You’re just… You’re just amazing.” He said looking at you like you were the only girl in the whole world.

You blushed and slowly grinned pulling Leon into a tight hug. He loved you! It took you almost dying to find out but he loved you!

“I love you too Leon… I have for a long time now.” You told him softly, your hug was so tight just wanting him close. Leon grinned and hugged you back just as tightly. He was so thankful you felt the same. 💜

(A/N Hi- I’m so sorry for the wait again April is always a busy month for me. Future fics will come faster I promise! In at least at weeks time if I decide to do it!)