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willowsnook · 2 days ago

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Let me in

Hi! Love your idea for a prompt list. Can I order: A turkey swiss on wheat bread, maybe mike’s way if you feel like it’s fitting for the sandwich?

Joe burrow x bsf!reader

Please don’t leave

—-----------------------------------------

Fall in Cincinnati was something that you loved. The trees changed colors, you could start leaving your windows open, and, of course, Bengals football. Now, you’d never claim that you were a die-hard fan, that was still reserved for your beloved Green Bay Packers, but after 5 years in the city, they were a solid 2nd favorite. Plus, being good friends with the starting quarterback meant you had to root for them.

You met Joe at a charity event a year after you moved to Ohio. Working for a Cincinnati-specific lifestyle magazine, your recommendations and reviews had made you quite well known in the city. Your strategy was always finding small, hidden gem places, usually family-owned, to review and elevate. This fulfilled your need to make a difference and also get paid to eat food.

While your job was so public and in the spotlight, you were pretty introverted, which surprised a lot of people. You didn’t necessarily enjoy being the center of attention, focusing more on making those around you shine. This meant that while you were appreciative of being recognized by the community, you hated going to big events; you’d much rather just be writing about them.

So when the introverted star of Cincinnati joined you in the shadows of an event, the two of you hit it off. Knowing who you were, his PR team had noticed and pitched a content series involving Joe. You spent a whole day with him, going to places he recommended and giving instant reviews. Initially, you were worried about it being awkward because you didn’t know him well, but you both had a blast. Joe was easy to talk to, and he liked that you treated him like anyone else.

After that, he’d invited you to hang out with his friends several times, and Ja’marr really liked you, insisting that you be added to the friend group. Since then, you’d spent the last couple of years being forced to go to every home Bengals game, but you could also easily force one of them to help you with some kind of content for work. A mutually beneficial friendship you thought.

Midway through the week, you were back at your apartment, taking pictures of some cookies someone sent you to be considered for an upcoming article you were writing. You snapped the perfect picture just as your phone rang, and you looked over to see it was Joe calling.

“What’s up?” You said, putting the phone on speaker.

“I’m bored. Can I come hang?” He asked.

“Yeah, I’m doing some work, but I’ll be done soon.”

“Okay, I’m on my way.”

You were used to Joe calling you randomly to hang out, especially when the season was going poorly. One thing you learned in your years of friendship with him was that he didn’t like to be alone, mostly so he didn’t spiral thinking about everything. You were happy to be a friend he could lean on.

15 minutes later, you heard your front door open and smiled as Joe wandered into the kitchen. He gave you a small squeeze from behind as you leaned over your laptop.

“Are you doing anything with these?” He asked, and you looked over at the cookies.

“No, I just got done. Have at it,” you replied, amused as he shoveled one into his mouth.

“These are pretty good,” he said, swallowing. “But I’ve had better.”

“Hmm,” you thought. “What don’t you like about them?”

“Too grainy,” he said, and you agreed, unable to think of what you were feeling.

“That’s a good point; I’m using that,” you said, typing it down in your notes.

“Watch out, I’m going to steal your job,” he joked, and you smirked.

“Does that mean I get yours?”

“You’d probably do a better job than me right now,” he said, and you frowned, shutting your laptop.

“You are still a superstar, even when you lose,” you told him earnestly, getting a small smile from him.

“I think I need you with a headset on to tell me that during the games,” he said, and you laughed.

“Yeah yeah,” you replied, blushing. “Want to take a walk or something? I need to get out of the house.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

The two of you walked down the street and ventured towards the water, chatting about upcoming events and his family coming to visit. You started to get chilly and held your arms briefly before Joe noticed. He pulled his hoodie off with one hand and handed it to you, not even stopping what he was saying. You pulled it on, inhaled the lingering cologne, and sighed.

“Will you come to dinner with us tomorrow night?” he asked, jolting you back to reality.

“With your parents?” you asked, and he nodded. “Would that not be a little weird?”

“Why would it be weird?”

“I don't know. I just wouldn’t want them to think we were dating or anything,” you said, confused. Joe frowned at that, but you didn’t have time to analyze it.

“Ja’marr is coming too,” he said. “You are both my best friends, so I’d like you to meet them.”

“Okay, if it’s important to you,” you agreed, giving in. Dinner with Joe’s parents. Huh. Sometimes you really didn’t understand why he chose you as a best friend when many people were fighting over it. If only people knew how clingy Mr. Cool was.

—---------------------------------------------------

Ja’Marr picked you up from your place the next night and the two of you headed to dinner.

“You look nice,” he commented, and you smiled. You and Ja’Marr had a flirty relationship, but nothing had ever come of it. One time, when you were both very drunk in the offseason, you had made out but it didn’t last long with him backing out, saying that Joe was going to kill him. You had just assumed that Joe didn’t want anyone in the friend group dating in case it got messy, which was understandable. With Ja’marr, you were mostly just attracted to him vs. wanting something more.

“I still feel weird about this whole thing,” you admitted to him and he gave you a lazy smirk.

“Please, they’ll love you,” he assured you.

“That’s not what I’m worried about; I’m amazing,” you said, causing him to laugh. “I just think it’s weird and intimate. Like if my parents were in town, yeah, maybe I wouldn’t mind them meeting you guys at the game or to celebrate in a group after. But I wouldn’t invite you for a small dinner.”

Ja’Marr gave you a look you couldn’t decipher before laughing to himself.

“I’ll try not to take offense to that,” he said and you rolled your eyes.

The restaurant was a nicer one that you had been to before for work. Joe’s parents stood up as you approached the table and warmly greeted you. His mom pulled you into a tight hug, laughing about how excited she was to meet you finally. You shot Ja’Marr a look and found him trying not to laugh. You could tell Joe was embarrassed, which made the situation a little amusing.

Sitting down beside him, he gave you an easy smile while handing you the drink menu. Joe’s dad jumped into conversation with Ja’Marr about the season while Robin asked you a ton of questions about your job and basically your whole life. You ended up loving his parents; they were the sweetest people. While you might have missed the way that Joe was looking at you the whole dinner, his parents definitely did not.

“It was so good to meet you y/n,” Robin gushed. “I’m sure we’ll see much more of you in the future.”

You smiled, confused, while Ja’Marr couldn’t hold back his laugh. Joe’s face turned bright red and his dad chuckled.

—------------------------------------------------

If you had thought the season was going poorly before it was a million times worse now. It seemed like each week, your two friends were putting up superstar numbers but still losing. After watching them lose by just a point to the Ravens, you clicked the TV off and sighed. Reaching for your phone you texted him a white heart and watched him read it and not reply. He usually would, even after a loss, but this one was tough so you didn’t pay much mind to it.

As the week went on, you started to feel Joe’s tension about the team bleed into your friendship. He wasn’t answering your calls and had replied to any text you had sent him with just one word. What had really pissed you off though, was that he was supposed to shoot a Thanksgiving promo with you about places that provided free food for those who needed it and he didn’t show.

“I get that you’re having a tough time right now and while I can live with you being a bad friend I can’t live with you 1. making me look bad professionally and 2. disappointing people making a difference. So give me a call when you figure your shit out,” you ranted to his voicemail.

You were supposed to fly out for the game this weekend but weren’t sure if you still should. Calling Ja’Marr, you complained about Joe being a dick and that you didn’t know what to do. He assured you that you should still come and that Joe was just hurting because of the season. The best thing you could do was be there for him, even in the shadows.

The game started out horribly with it being 24-6 leading into halftime. But a different team came out in the third quarter, and you went crazy as the Bengals got ahead. But like the week before, no matter what Joe did, even throwing for over 350 yards, they still lost in the end. You lingered by the locker room after the game and smiled sadly as you saw Ja’Marr first. He wrapped you in a hug, and he was happy to have you there. Joe on the other hand, did not look happy to see you.

“What are you doing here?” he said coldly, and both you and Ja’Marr flinched. His teammate gave him a weird look, but Joe was just staring at you blankly.

“I’ve had these tickets since before the season, you know that,” you replied.

“I didn’t want you to come,” he said and you tried to ignore the hurt you felt. “Did you not get the hint from me ignoring you all week?”

“Oh, so is that why you stood up the charity?” You bit back. “So that I would ‘get the hint’?”

Joe didn’t say anything, clenching his jaw and Ja’Marr tried to step in.

“I wanted her to come man,” he said and Joe snapped his head towards his friend.

“Well just fuck her then and get over it,” he replied and your jaw dropped. Ja”Marr shoved him backward, yelling at him before security intervened. You recovered from your shock and turned around, abruptly leaving the stadium. You called an Uber to take you back to the hotel, and the massive traffic gave you a lot of time to process what had just happened.

You could understand him being upset over the game, especially since it was so fresh in his mind. But it’s not like you went up to him; he came up to you. This man was supposed to be your best friend, and he basically just called you a whore to your face. This shit was ridiculous.

30 minutes later, you were walking into the hotel. Ja’Marr had tried calling, but you declined. You called the airline you were flying with to see if there was any chance of flying out early, and you were lucky to snag a seat on the last flight out. You quickly packed up your stuff after changing into a comfier outfit and headed down to the lobby to check out and call a car.

Turning to head out the door you stopped as you saw Joe walking in, his eyes trained on you. He looked miserable and he made his way towards you slowly.

“Y/n..” he started, his eyes filling up with tears, but you stopped him from saying anything else.

“I’m leaving,” you said emotionlessly. He tried to reach out to you, but you flinched back and pain flashed across his face.

“I need to talk to you y/n,” he begged. “Please don’t leave.”

“Why would I stay?” You asked softly. “Goodbye, Joe.”

You left him standing there wondering why it felt like your own heart was breaking into two.

—-----------------------------------------------

It had been two weeks since then, and you had successfully avoided Joe at all costs. He blew up your phone of course but you have yet to answer. Luckily he hadn’t tried coming to your apartment because he knew you well enough to know that it’d piss you off.

You were on your way to hang out with Ja’Marr for a group movie night which he promised you that Joe would not be at. You don’t know why you even believed him; Joe’s car was parked in the front driveway and you almost reversed until you saw Ja’Marr waving his arms at you. Stepping out, you crossed your arms, waiting for him.

“I knew you wouldn’t come if you knew he was here,” he started and you scoffed.

“You were right.”

“I am miserable because he is y/n,” he pleaded. “I’m sorry but I will be selfish for a minute. He is being a dick at practice to everyone and isn’t throwing me good balls. He’s moody, won’t say a word to me, and won’t leave his house unless necessary. So please let him make it up to you. You two belong together.”

“He called me a whore Ja’Marr!” You exclaimed frustrated and gave you a sympathetic look.

“I know he did, and that was terrible. I tried to fight him on your behalf,” he said, earning a small smile from you. “God I shouldn’t tell you this but he’s so in love with you it’s insane. He’s hurting and you’re hurting. Please just talk to him.”

“He’s not in love with me,” you said and he just rolled his eyes.

“Believe what you want but get in there,” he said steering you towards the door.

The good thing was that there were a few other people here from your friend group, so technically, you didn’t even have to talk to him. He was the first person you saw when you walked in so clearly, this was a coordinated effort between the two friends.

Joe did look sad, and you wanted to be happy about it, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. He was dressed down in grey sweats and a black T-shirt, his hair looking like he had run his hands through it over and over. His eyes were puffy, and that made your heart clench.

“Are we ready to start?” One of your other friends called from the living room and you started to walk towards the room but Joe gently grabbed you, pulling you closer to him and letting Ja’Marr pass.

“Can we talk?” He mumbled quietly to you and you nodded, letting him pull you into the study. You stood with your arms crossed as you looked at him, waiting.

“I’m sorry y/n. I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice cracking slightly. “I was hurting so bad and I took it out on you. The one person who has always been there for me.”

“Sorry isn’t going to cut it Joe,” you said, frustrated. “It’s not like it was just the comment; it was the week leading up to it, missing the event. I can’t be there for you when you don’t let me in.”

You had imagined how this conversation would go multiple times over the past few weeks. You expected an apology and another apology, but you did not expect Joe Burrow to start sobbing in front of you.

He sunk against the wall and had his head in his hands while he was crying. Your shock wore off, and you knelt down in front of him, moving in between his legs. He looked up and your heart broke at his tear-stained face.

“What is going on, Joe?” You asked softly, wiping some of his tears with your thumb.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he whispered. “Everything is going wrong, and I don’t feel like I’m in control. I do everything I can, and it’s still not enough.”

“Oh Joey,” you murmured, pulling his head into your shoulders. He held on to you tightly as he cried and you ran your hand through his hair gently.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped. “I’m sorry I hurt you; I hated myself the second I said it.”

“I forgive you Joe,” you told him, looking into his teary eyes.

“I don’t deserve you; I’m not good enough for you,” he said. “I want to be enough for you.”

You cupped his face gently, making him look at you. Your own eyes started to water at the vulnerability he was showing.

"Joe, you’ve always been enough for me," you whispered. "You don’t have to prove anything. Not to me, not to anyone. I’m here for you, not for what you do or don’t achieve."

His brows furrowed, and he shook his head slightly, his hands moving to hold yours. "You don’t understand, y/n. I don’t just want to be your best friend—I want to be everything to you. And I’ve been so afraid of ruining our relationship that I pushed you away instead."

Your breath caught in your throat. "Joe..."

"I love you," he said, his voice breaking, but his gaze held steady. "I’ve been in love with you for so long, and I didn’t know how to tell you. But pushing you away hurt worse than anything I’ve ever felt on the field. I can’t lose you."

For a moment, the weight of his words left you speechless. You searched his face, finding nothing but raw sincerity. Your heart ached, but in the best way, as if it were piecing itself together after being fractured.

"I love you too, Joe," you admitted to him and yourself, a soft smile breaking through the tears on your face. "But you have to let me in. No more shutting me out, no matter how hard things get. We figure it out together, okay?"

His hands tightened around yours, and he nodded, relief washing over his features. "Together. I promise."

You leaned forward, gently kissing his forehead before resting your own against it. The two of you walked out of the study and into the living room, where everyone else was already engrossed in the movie. Ja’Marr looked between the two of you and at your connected hands and gave you a wide smirk. Joe moved to the big armchair and pulled you down with him, and you snuggled into his lap. His arms wrapped around you, and you finally felt content.

#joe burrow #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagines

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ella-and-the-ocean · 3 days ago

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I felt compelled to write a small interpretation of what happened to our favorite OCs. I hope you'll enjoy.

🖋 1214 words

⚠️ blood and injury, violence, murder, brief violence against children

starts under the cut

“Vincent, watch out!”

But Vincent was still occupied taking down two men who were attacking him with all they got, their heavy armor making it harder to land a final blow. He didn't notice the third man approaching him with a knife.

Quinn was still on his sniper post, but had run out of bullets.

“Vince! Do you copy?”

But Vincent gave no indication that he had heard him or noticed the approaching foe.

Quinn swore as he abandoned his rifle and made his way to Vincent in a mad dash to get to him before the third man could knife him down. He had no plan of action, no strategy for self defense, he just needed to get there first.

And he did. He threw his body between Vincent and the blade, but he had no time to block the blow. Instead he felt the knife slice through his skin and fat and organ tissue. He drew his own blade and buried it deep in his opponent's jugular. They went down together.

Quinn's vision was swimming. When everything came back into focus, Vincent's face was hovering above him, worried and angry in equal measure.

“You goddamn idiot. I had it under control.”

His hands were pressed to Quinn's abdomen, it hurt like a bitch.

Quinn closed his eyes and let his head fall back with a groan.

“Don't you dare die on me. Medevac is on its way.”

“Not dying,” Quinn mumbled, “no visions.”

"Good. Keep it that way.” He still sounded angry.

“Yessir.”

“Look at me.” Now he sounded more desperate than angry, so Quinn opened his eyes. They were bloody heavy. Black dots danced in front of his vision as he tried to focus on Vincent's face.

“What were you thinking?”

His eyes looked wet. Like the blood that was oozing out between the fingers he pressed to the ugly gash in his abdomen. Quinn had always wondered how he dealt with the bloodshed in the field. If it had gotten easier to resist over all those years. He had never asked.

“Couldn't– let your pretty mug get ruined.” he slurred, tongue as heavy as his eyes.

Vincent's next words got drowned out by a familiar rush of blood roaring up in his ears accompanied by a wave of nausea.

Seemed like his earlier health assessment might not have been as stellar as he had thought.

The world in front of his eyes started to flimmer like a broken display, black dots growing until they left him numb and blind in the darkness.

He tried to brace himself, but there was no bracing for what his visions showed him.

He saw women getting shot down in what looked like a school. Blood splashing over colorful children's paintings and textbooks. Girls were screaming and crying while they got dragged out by their hair and thrown into the dirt, forced to watch as their remaining teachers were executed before black hoods were pulled over their heads and they were abducted into an uncertain future.

When he came to, all the pain and nausea was still there. He couldn’t see properly, didn’t know where he was, but instinctively, he tried to roll over in an attempt not to choke on his own vomit, but someone was holding him back.

“Shh, I got you, it’s okay.” A familiar voice said, cool hands gently pressing down on his chest to keep him down. Hearing that voice soothed some of the mental agony, but didn’t alleviate the urge to empty his stomach. Quinn gagged helplessly; gastric acid burning in his throat, filling his mouth. The voice above him sweared.

“Hands off, I’ll put him in recovery position,” an unfamiliar voice commanded. The cool hands disappeared and rough hands were manhandling him onto his side.

“What about his wound?”

“He’ll live.”

“You say that five minutes after we had to resuscitate him?!” Quinn finally recognized the voice; had heard that angry, disbelieving shade of it more often than he could count, every time he’d “done something stupid”.

“Vince,” he garbled around another gush of acid leaving his agitated stomach.

“I’m here.” The cool hands were back, brushing some strands of hair from his sweaty forehead, then settled against his overheated skin.

“We’ll give him another minute, then we have to move. The fibrin glue and compression bandage will do until we’re on base,” said the unfamiliar voice, and a foreign pair of hands briefly tinkered with the part of his torso that felt numb and afire alike.

Somewhere between being hauled into the helo and flying back to base, Quinn lost consciousness again.

When he woke up for good, he was lying in a hospital bed. The incessant beeping of a nearby heart monitor worsened the migraine that made his head swim, but at least the aggressive neon lights were dimmed down.

Quinn forced his eyes to focus and took stock of himself. Unsurprisingly, the nearby heart monitor was hooked up to himself, and he had two infusions, one seemed to be blood – again, unsurprisingly – the other probably a cocktail of antibiotics and painkillers. The lack of pain in his abdomen was a strong indicator.

Also unsurprising, was Vincent’s looming presence in a chair next to his bed, pulled up as close as possible. His expression was a potent mix of relief, anger and worry, his red eyes sparkling like livewires.

“Would it help if I said I’m sorry?” Quinn asked.

“Are you?” Ah, so he was stuck with anger for the moment.

“Not really.”

“What you did was–” Vincent swelled in his seat, and Quinn prepared for a lengthy lecture that didn’t come, “so incredibly stupid.”

“Well, you might be dead if I hadn’t done it.”

“You were dead!” Suddenly, Vincent was on his feet and hauled his chair across the room. “Three agonizing minutes long, your heart was not beating. I could hear your body shutting down, could hear your blood stopping to circulate, could smell it starting to coagulate, and each chest compression only made more blood spurt from your wound. I– You have no goddamn idea–” His chest was heaving as he looked Quinn dead in the eye. “Never. Never do that again.” He tried to take a steadying breath, but it caught halfway in his throat and came out sounding an awful lot like a sob, “Please.”

Quinn looked away from the open vulnerability displayed on Vincent’s face. His blanket was suddenly much more interesting as he absently twirled the hem between his fingers.

“Why weren’t you responding to comms?” He asked to disperse the tense silence.

Thankfully Vincent knew him better than to force a conversation about their feelings onto him.

“One of the perps dislodged it when we were fighting.” Vincent went over to the chair and brought it back to the bed, it was still intact. He sank back into it, and silence filled the room again.

After a while, Vincent broke it.

“Do you want to talk about the vision?”

Quinn sighed and closed his eyes, trying not to relive the images.

“Not really.” He admitted, hoping Vincent would leave it at that.

Instead of pushing the issue, a cold hand wrapped around his restless one and squeezed it gently. Quinn took a shuddering breath, and squeezed it back.

s h o c k 🔴

#quinncent #oc: quinn lacey #oc: vincent craft #tw blood #tw violence #not my ocs #but my writing :3 #ocs by wombywoo #love these traumatised emotionally repressed boys #(✿◡‿◡)

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the-dumpster-fire-of-life · 2 days ago

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Hey chat...

I literally have so many scenarios in my head it's killing me

Could you do a scenario where the reader shields Isha from the blast (or whatever) which results in her on the verge of death. How will jinx deal with it? And how will she save her

(I'm trying to cope with the loss of my baby Isha 😞💔)

Sure! Here ya go but probably sucks, haven’t wrote one of these in a while! Enjoy!

Heading photos made by @diana-foggy-master !

Sacrificial

You could only process what the girl was thinking when her small feet started running past you helping Jinx off the ground.

The familiar act was so hard to miss. It was like watching Powder all over again all those years ago the night everything went wrong.

You couldn’t handle it again.

“Jinx? Jinx- I’m so sorry.” You apologized to your lover on the ground. Jinx looked at you, confused with her face having splatters of blood drops. But she was so confused. What were you sorry for?

It only clicked when she saw you running after Isha into what she knew she would never get you back from.

“No- no!” Jinx cried out, getting up with the look of horror on her face when you ran. She tried reaching for you like you did her all those years ago, only to fall short. She lost you.

She lost you before you even got to the girl.

Isha was right within your grip, tears falling from your face as you knew you wouldn’t be coming back home to your lovers and your bed.

“Isha!” You yelled, reaching for her as she kept running, shoving gemstone after gemstone into Jinx’s gun.

“(Name)! Isha! No!” Jinx cried, trying her best to get to the both of you as Isha slid to the ground, moving just like Jinx taught her to as she finally got to Vander.

Jinx was caught by Vi, crying and blubbering as her heart and chest constricted at the thought of you leaving her with her mind.

What was she gonna do? She couldn’t fix this once it was done.

Isha had barely mimicked Jinx back at her, the little finger gun motion breaking your head. Isha wasn’t dying. This wasn’t how she was gonna say goodbye.

Isha lifted the gun to Vander, and by the look on his face as he saw you nearing you could tell he had no control over this. Just like back then.

Isha had barely closed her eyes, and you saw the smile on her face. She looked almost content to die. Like it was a release. You felt bad for taking it from her.

She barely pulled the trigger when you grabbed her, pulling her to your chest and curling around her.

Isha’s eyes shot open, panicked for a split second as she tried to push you away and out of there. But you were older. Stronger. The way you wished when you were younger to be like Vi.

You barely managed a smile to Isha as you held her, and even years later she could still hear your voice and see your smile as you whispered in her ear.

“You’ll be okay. Take care of her for me, will ya?”

The gun went off.

And you were gone.

The reaction was immediate. Isha didn’t feel you anymore. She was cold, your arms around her gone as she finally opened her eyes after praying to whatever god there was that you were okay.

Nothing.

Not anything of you was left behind.

All she heard was Jinx’s wailing, and her little heart dropped to her stomach at the realization.

You were gone.

Because of her. Isha took you from Jinx.

“Isha! Why- why would you do that?!” Jinx cried, even though she knew you’d hate to hear the words coming from her mouth but she couldn’t stop herself.

She pushed Vi off of her, running to Isha out of relief and anger as she searched for you to come up with nothing.

She grabbed the girl by her shoulders, crying and blubbering as she sobbed.

“Why would you- (Name)?! (Name)!” Jinx cried, yelling it out as she searched for you.

Isha had no idea what to do with Jinx’s anger but cry with her as she felt your absence.

Jinx wasn’t able to process this, and Vi could only watch as the one thing her sister held dear to her heart from when they were kids, you, was gone. Just like that.

Jinx’s sobs turned to wails as she felt her heart being ripped from her chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

You were supposed to be okay. Vander was supposed to come back. They were supposed to stay and be happy. Vi could even be there.

Jinx had her family back, and now it was all gone.

Her wails kept going, she gripped onto Isha cause she would be damned if she let her out of her sight for her to be taken to.

Her head fell to Isha’s shoulder, the girl's cries mixing with her own as Isha’s little fingers gripped onto her.

Jinx and Isha crumbled together on the floor, crying and sniffling and sobbing. What happens now? What comes next?

How can anything come next…when you’re gone?

#arcane x reader #arcane #jinx arcane #arcane jinx #jinx x reader #vi arcane #arcane reader

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parkersgarage · 1 day ago

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a/n:I just be throwing words together and hit post y’all, I can’t even lie.

Sevika x gn!reader (no pronouns mentioned) 747 wc, little angsty but I wouldn’t cry to it (｀_´)ゞ dialogue heavy as per usual!

“Am I still allowed to say, ‘come back in one piece’” you ask quietly, watching her tighten miscellaneous screws on her arm.

Sevika doesn’t get it. Why you’re so suddenly quiet when before you wouldn’t stop yapping her ear off, or when she’d come home, you’d shout and cheer while waking up the whole damn block. But now it’s just quiet.

She hates it.

A look of disappointment crosses your face when you don’t receive any response. Your eyes have never looked so dull and lifeless before.

“I know you don’t like this,” she starts, staring at her hand. She couldn’t look at you. “I don’t either, but this is how I can keep you safe.” A hum is her only response; she takes it.

“Can you talk to me, please?” Sevika nearly bites her tongue at the plea, but you’re the most important thing in her life now and maybe forever. “I can’t read your mind, not as good as before.”

A shaky and deep sigh falls past your lips. With trembling fingers, your hand glides up her arms gently, slowly melding your body against hers. She takes you in just as tenderly, rough fingertips holding your waist while the cold metal of her hand reaches to your neck.

“It’s too much,” you confess, letting your head fall to her shoulder. You couldn’t let her see you. “All of this change, all the blood being spilled, your new employer.” Your voice gets rougher by the end, and Sevika’s heart churns at the anger in it.

Had she known how you would react to it, if she knew how bitter and angry you’d be about her joining the very force she used to fight against, would she still do it?

If she could take back joining, if she had just let it lie and die, could she?

“I’m–” the apology sits heavy on her tongue, waiting to spill out, but all that follows is silence. You wonder, did this new life mean Sevika couldn’t even talk to you?

She sighs, rubbing her forehead as you pull away from her. “I wish I didn’t have to do this just to keep you safe.” She murmured, her head cast low in an attempt to hide. “He told me as long as I work for him, not a single thing would touch your head, and that’s all I want.”

“Vika, we could’ve just left—”

“And where would you suggest we go?” She asks, cutting you off entirely. There’s a snap in her tone that doesn’t go unnoticed, one you couldn’t blame her for. Yet she sighs again, regret on her face– or rather, it was guilt.

“I get it.” You nod, sitting back– away from her. “I’m sorry.” Another sigh; it seems almost never-ending. The dissatisfaction, the hurt, everything. All because of one slight change. “I won’t complain anymore.”

“That’s not what I–” her sentence falls off her tongue when you get up. Just as you move to walk away, her fingers are quick to grasp your wrist lightly. “Don’t go.” She whispers, and shockingly, her eyes turn watery before casting downwards. “Please.”

You sink back down to your knees. Her hand still holds onto you, afraid you’ll walk away again. You can’t tell what’s going on in her head, what internal battle she’s going through, and how this change affects her.

“You should eat.” You say after a beat of silence. She only hums, ultimately leaving the thought behind as she lays her head against your chest. “You’ve had a long day, Vika.”

Her eyes shut as she focused on your beating heart. She felt bad for tuning out your voice, but this is what she needed. To hear that you were alive, that you weren’t lying lifeless in a ditch like she’d been threatened with hours ago by some goon who was less than her.

At the end of the night, after you’ve both eaten and settled for bed, she clings onto you tighter than she ever has. When she thinks you’ve fallen asleep, the tears that soak your shirt don’t go unnoticed by you. All you wished for was to turn around, wipe them from her face, and tell her it would be okay. But Sevika wouldn’t want that, at least– that’s what you thought. “I love you.” She says. It weighs you down, making you sink further and further into the pit you dug yourself into.

You wonder why it was only said when she thought you were sleeping.

can yall tell I like writing semi-soft Sevika ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

#sevika x reader #sevika x you #sevika x y/n #arcane x y/n #arcane x you #arcane imagine #arcane x reader

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simp-for-mystery · 2 days ago

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Young justice - Ride or Die

I love Jason Todd, but you're telling me that after everything he did to Tim, the rest of the Core four did nothing???!! They are Tim's ride or dies and, quite frankly, completely unhinged in the comics. They stood by and did nothing? I refuse to believe they didn't make Jason's life a living hell as revenge.

Jason: WHY ARE YOU GIVING UP ALL MY SAFE HOUSES TO VILLAINS?!

Kon,Cassie and Bart chilling and posting his personal phone online: Cuz we hate you. Praying for your downfall, King.

I refuse to believe it 😤 The bare minimum is them backing up every crazy plan Tim has and guilt tripping Jason into joining them.

Jason: That is a terrible idea and I am never-

Them holding back fake tears: You hurt Robin! Do you even regret it?!

Jason now feeling the guilt but refusing to admit it: Yeah so I'll just take this and you tell me what to do via coms. Cool? Cool.

I will even take the Petty ignoring he exists even in life or death stakes.

Batman: Due to the alien species that is currently about to destroy the entire timeline being one encountered by the Outlaws before, we will defer to them.

Jason: First thing is first we need to take anything that is even remotely metal off-

Bart raising his hand and looking at Batman until he is acknowledged: So when are we getting told what to do?

Cassie nodding along: Yeah Roy or Kori really need to start talking. This is a serious matter.

Kon: Yeah we should really get on that and figure out why we keep hearing the MOST ANNOYING screeching in the universe 😒 instead of a brief.

Like my friend gets LOOKED at a bit off and I'm ready to go feral??!!!

#tim drake #jason todd #red hood #batman #young justice #young just us #robin #cassie sandsmark #kon el superboy #bart allen

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peppermintquartz · 2 days ago

Note

Buck/Tommy prompt: Tommy finally realizing he *does* have a family with the 118

It's a Thursday afternoon when he dies.

He's not even on shift, that's the thing; he was in the gym training with a friend, and the next thing he knows five masked figures burst in, shouting at everyone to get down to the ground, and he's shielding Jacob when one of them fires a spray in their direction.

The bullets don't land anywhere fatal so he doesn't die immediately, but that means it hurts like a bitch, and he can feel his extremities growing cold. He sees the five gunmen race out the other door. Jacob is panicking, pressing his gym towel on the stomach wound but not exerting enough strength to hold back the blood loss; Lizzie is screaming at someone to hurry; Tommy thinks, Fuck, on the day I beat my personal best too.

His vision is darkening around the edges. Breathing is difficult. Maybe a punctured lung from shrapnel, who knows?

The coroner will, his brain supplies, a joker to the very end.

He hears sirens. Vaguely, he wonders if who's going to tell Evan.

Sorry, baby. Didn't mean to make you cry. Tommy lets go of the vestiges of the breath he's been struggling to hold onto.

"Tommy?" He knows the voice. Wow, God really has a shitty sense of humor. "Tommy!"

At least that's the last thing he'll hear before he dies. Tommy tastes blood in his mouth, and everything stops.

Death, it turns out, is a welcoming silence.

He wakes up in fits and starts.

When he is finally, mostly conscious, he feels someone holding his right hand. And there are two people talking.

"...I think he's back with us again," one of the voices say. "Mr Kinard?"

Call me Tommy. Mr Kinard is my asshole dad.

"Tommy?"

Now Tommy smiles. That's the right name. He blinks, each eyelid approximately seven thousand tons. Dimmed lights, two shadowy figures, one in a white coat and the other in navy.

"Guess... G'd dint like... my crack 'bout. Sense of humor."

"What the fuck," says Navy. He scoots closer and Tommy can see his face clearly. Boyishly handsome, with light brown curly hair, a birthmark. Red-rimmed eyes. "Tommy. Tommy, god."

"Hey." He can't remember Navy's name. "Dry."

White Coat hands over a small cup. Navy puts an ice chip on Tommy's lips, and Tommy draws it into his mouth for the relief.

Evan. Not Navy. Evan.

White Coat comes close, and Tommy wants to protest. He wants to hold Evan's hand and kiss his sad little pout away.

"You can do that later when you're better," said White Coat. He shines a light into Tommy's eyes - ow - and taps him in various places, and then it's just Tommy and Evan again.

Evan stands and leans down to kiss Tommy's brow. "Go to sleep. I'll let everyone know you pulled through."

Tommy wants to ask, but sleep pulls him under.

They come to visit, singly or in pairs.

"Glad you're still breathing," Eddie says. He sits on the side of the bed. "Chris says that if you die, he'll hit you with his crutches. And they hurt, let me tell you that."

Hen and Karen visit with their kids that same day. Denny asks if Tommy can teach him and Mara to draw. "I liked yours the most of all the art on my cast."

Bobby comes by, scowls at the bland food, and says, "I'm glad you're still with us, kid." Tommy tears up, and allows himself to cry silently. Bobby only holds his hand and pats the back of it.

Donato and Melton come by with a bunch of balloons, all chosen for maximum obnoxiousness. The bright pink and yellow one that proclaims "It's a GIRL!" is Tommy's favorite.

He gives that balloon to Chimney when he comes by, telling him to give it to Jee. Chimney punches the side of Tommy's leg. "Count your lucky stars it isn't Maddie here. They'd never even find your body."

Maddie shows up with Evan the day after to take Tommy home to recover from his three bullet wounds.

"Three shots and you only get three days?" Evan is outraged.

"Flesh wounds except for the one through my lower left abdomen," Tommy reminds him, already tired. "Plus, I signed myself out." Then, taking a nervous breath, he says, "Hi Maddie."

Maddie glares at him. "You're lucky I wasn't the one holding the gun."

Tommy winces, ducks his head. "I'm sorry."

Evan rolls his eyes. "Standing right here, Maddie."

"I warned him about breaking your heart," she says grumpily, but she takes the duffel bag of Tommy's stuff.

Tommy leans back in his wheelchair as Evan rolls him out towards freedom. "How much groveling to make to earn your sister's forgiveness?"

"See how long you'll grovel for mine, and multiply that by ten."

"Oh shit."

"...that'd be about half a hour, I guess."

"For you or for her?"

Evan wrinkles his nose at him, but his smile is still sunshine. His hand lands on Tommy's shoulder and squeezes. "You and I need a good talk. And this time, you can't run."

Tommy dares to touch Evan's hand. "Okay."

#tommy kinard #evan buckley #bucktommy #tevan #118 fam

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grapejuicestyless · 1 day ago

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Haunted By The Look In My Eyes

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summery: After a near death experience while on an adventure Y/n and JJ were supposed to be sat on the bench for, tension builds between the Pogues until finally, JJ’s reckless attitude meets Y/n’s intense feelings that can only be compared to the hopelessness JJ once felt himself.

“Guess it’s just you and me.” I rolled my eyes, the coolness from the surface of the metal shipment container doing nothing to cool down the sweltering heat that danced through the air within the four walls. Boxes of random assortments of various items plastered in rotting wood and wrapped thickly in plastic wrap.

Water clung to everything, beading down my forehead in thick droplets of sweat, the salty liquid tasting on my tongue with each swipe of it over my cracking lips. I swore if I ever had the curse of being sent to hell, this was it. This was the fiery depths of heat people spoke about, I was sure of it.

JJ was glistening too, though, he seemed used to it. Growing up with no temperature regulations in the unforgiving summer heat seems to have made him less uncomfortable by the thickness in the air, I hadn’t been lucky enough to adapt over time.

I watched him slide down against the floor, trying to get as low as possible. Heat does rise, after all. I sat opposite of him. Climbing on the crates of junk and cringing at the insufferable squeaking sounds that I could only ever compare to nails on chalkboard. I sat as close to the small opening in the container as possible without making myself known to anyone walking outside. The risk was worth it for the cool breeze of the ocean, even for just a moment.

But just as I close my eyes, swaying and praying that the heat will die down, the blond speaks.

“You know, I’ve been thinking. When all this is over, and we’re just rolling in the dough…I’m gonna get a new board and I’m gonna deck it out. And I’m gonna go on a surf trip.” His head leaned back against the crate behind him, his hair sticking to the back of his neck and his once wildly untamed hair clumping together in a wet mess.

I gave him a look, leaning forward on my palms and smiling at him, I let my eyes wander around the container.

“I don’t know where, but like, the worlds callin’.” He smiled, dissociating for a second and letting his smile fade. Slipping away for only a moment. “I don’t…name a place.” He was back, the same toothy grin as before, the same glistening shine in his blue eyes.

I thought for a second, blowing air through my lips.

“Spain.” I nodded my head.

“Then, after Spain…South America or South Africa, you know-“

“You’re gonna go to South Africa?” I interrupted with a teasing smile, partially shocked that JJ ever wanted to go away so far.

“Or one of the south places.” He defended himself. “A-and then Micronesia maybe. And then, just ride…wherever the wave takes you.” He looked down at his ring clad hands, twisting them nervously like he might have doubts that his dreams were stupid, unachievable.

I smiled at him even when he wasn’t looking because I believed everything he said. I knew that one day, he would go out just like he said and catch the best swells around the globe.

“Y’know?” He looked up finally, catching my grin.

“So that’s the plan—if we were to get a ton of cash?” I asked, looking away from him again. “That’s the dream?” I said it like a question, though, really I was agreeing with everything he said. It sounded like a dream. “Surf trip.”

“Bamboo hut…cooking a fish on a fire and…after that you go back out and just hit the waves again.” He moved his hands wildly as he spoke, building his dream in his mind with just the wiggling of his fingers. I rolled my eyes playfully.

“That’s the dream.” He confirmed, his voice lowering slightly, and I knew he was serious.

“Sounds perfect.” I agreed softly.

“Yeah.”

“Got room for one more?” I shrugged, asking honestly despite the light smile on my face. JJ simply laughed, smiling and looking back up from his lap to meet my eyes. I watched how his smile dropped when he saw how serious I was.

“You got your passport?” He asked, and it made me laugh this time.

“You don’t got a passport.” I teased.

“Hell no I don’t got a passport! The Kookiest thing ever.” He smiled, and I felt myself laughing from my stomach. A real, happy laugh that I hadn’t felt bubbling up since I was a little girl. Since before all the guns and allegations, and prison sentences, and near death experiences.

Sometimes I wondered what I would think of JJ, if I didn’t know him. Sometimes, I feared that if I had been born on the other side of the island, if my parents could afford a nicer house, if I lived just nearly two neighborhoods over, would I be just like everyone else?

Would I have thought of him as just another Maybank? Surely, if told his dreams to Topper or Kelce, they’d laugh and call him nothing greater than his old man. I thought he was a great deal more than Luke ever was, but would I think that if I had more money in my pocket?

I decided that I would, because the look in his eyes told me I would have. They were blue, sure, but they were the most trusting, truest eyes I’d ever seen. Maybe that’s why he knew he was a good liar, because he had the doe eyes down, but he couldn’t fool me any more than he could fool John B, Kiara, or Pope.

JJ Maybank had been the center of my universe since he had dropped down right front and center of me, since he had wandered into my life and claimed that we were to be best friends forever without leaving any room for argument.

I knew that I would have found him in any life. Because I know JJ Maybank better than anyone ever has, and he knows me more than I know myself.

When he sighed and fought against the “B-Team” I faked my offense, because though I knew he was itching for action, we’d get to share a tender moment like this together, just locked up in a hot box with no room the breathe and no wind to cool us down.

I craved our conversations like he craved the chaos, and I clawed my way into his heart because since the moment I met him I understood how special he was to me. He’s so, undeniably special.

“The Kookiest.” I agreed softly, letting my head fall back and my eyes close again, content with the feeling of my beating heart racing for him.

Maybe being the B-Team wasn’t the worst, because then the only worry was trying to maintain a steady temperature and keep myself from swaying my way to the floor. Heat stroke seemed a lot less scary than this.

JJ quieted me down, though, I hadn’t said a word, and his pointer pressing against his lips reminded me that maybe he shouldn’t be leading us around the boat, completely exposed to danger, and so I snuck around him and squeeze through the thin passageway, ignoring his whisper-shouting protests.

Our bodied pressed flat against the side of the upper deck walls, my head stretched around the corner to view the empty deck ahead of us.

“Clear?” He asked softly, and I nodded my head quickly.

We ran on our toes, walking light on our feet to avoid the loud slapping of boots against metal. JJ fell behind me slightly as he spun around, paranoid of the potential of someone following behind.

“Jay, come on.” I mumbled desperately, feeling the stress falling down on me.

We turned the corner quickly, JJ turning to look over the railing for John B on a lifeboat, our getaway car, only to be met with open water. Our breathing echoed between our ears, neither of us heard the harsh slapping of extra feet plowing down the stairs ahead.

“I don’t see them.” He announced, all too loudly.

I froze in the presence of a taller man with untamed hair and scruffy facial hair.

“JJ…” I warned, squaring my shoulders off as he stepped in line with me. No one made any movement for a split moment.

“Jayj…” I said a little more desperately as the man unsheathed his machete, only drawing JJ’s in closer, a fein for danger, and a junkie for risk.

“Of course…” The man began to speak, his brows furrowing. “There’s more of you.”

JJ and I shared a look, our faced contorted in an unspoken agreement that we understood the numbers here. Two against one was a safe bet, though the factor of his blade made me squirm a little.

“Get down on your knees.” The man instructed, and I wanted to laugh.

“Yeah, thats not gonna happen!” JJ’s words became shorter as he took a step back, the man’s slow approach sending both of us in fight or flight. I knew from the first glance what JJ would choose.

The man swung violently, aiming down on JJ’s shoulders with a quick blow, but missing as he ducked and shifted to the left. The machete made a loud clanging sound as it hit the metal floor.

He swung again, this time at me, but he was already off balance, swinging aimlessly at someone who wasn’t there. My hands pushed down against his arm, keeping him and the weapon pinned to the wall of the boat, right against a closed compartment that looked like it was hiding electrical cables.

Grunting as he fought against my hands, JJ wound up and struck the man with his bare knuckles, hitting him square in the jaw. His hands braced the mans shoulders, our eyes meeting in the chaotic scene, another unspoken plan shared between our glances.

“Hit him, Y/n/n!” He instructed, and as JJ pulled the man back, I opened the compartment where his hand had been, smacking him dead center in his face so hard, it echoed through my ears. I couldn’t help but grimace to myself.

“Wheres John B?” JJ shouted, his voice rough with anger. He shifted from foot to foot, hands drawn in a position ready to swing, even with the man helplessly lying on the ground.

I ran to the edge of the boat, my palms bracing myself over the edge, the empty water making my stomach drop. I wondered helplessly what was holding the others up as JJ and I fought on borrowed time.

“John B!” I shouted, my voiced strained.

I heard the sound of hair moving quickly, the cut of a blade slicing above JJ’s head as he once again ducked, but this time, we weren’t as lucky. With a kick to the gut, JJ went flying back, his head bouncing off the side of the railing. He sat with his hand cradling the back of his head.

“Y/n/n!” He alerted me. Turning on my feet, the man was closer to me than before, his gaze deadly and set solely on me.

He swung once, twice, missing with each violent stroke of the blade. I ducked the best I could, growing more confident as the pain of connection never came, but I grew too overconfident. I spend too much time with JJ, I guess.

The sting came quickly, a burning pain that ripped through my skin and sunk deep past the tissue. I screamed out in a broken cry of desperation, my fingers gripping my shoulder in agony.

The man swung again, only to be pulled away by the blond boy once again, his arms swallowing him whole from the back. Their grunts were the only other thing I could hear past the beating of my heart, yet, seeing the man elbow JJ in his sternum hurt more than the wound that bled out between my red fingers.

He had JJ winded, and with one swift turn, he tried to take me one more time.

I ducked, and watched in horror as the blunt end sent JJ flying over the edge of the boat, nearly three stories until the splash sounded from the deck.

The man came at me again, the dance becoming all too repetitive as the sole of my shoe connected with his stomach. He stumbled into the ground, lying flat. I raced to the edge, the sight below me sickening.

There JJ was, floating on his stomach, his head below the surface, unmoving and sinking slowly. The waves look him in every direction, and all that filled my mind was the silent begging that he would flip.

“JJ!” I screamed, trying to wake him as if the water wasn’t filling his ears. The water around him bubbled, the deep blue a bright white from the impact, his old tank top lifting to reveal the shape of his back.

He didn’t move, he didn’t respond, and my feet met the top of the railing on the boat. I didn’t even think, I didn’t register all the danger below the surface, how stupid it was to jump into the open water with no guarantee that John B would ever show up, but it didn’t matter because I couldn’t stop it. I was hitting the water regardless of how fearful I was of the cold.

“JJ!” Water fell out of my mouth in heaving splatters of coughing fits, my hair glued flat against my skin and my clothes clinging to every inch of my body. I would be lying if I said the impact didn’t hurt, if the salt water didn’t burn the harsh aching in my shoulder.

“Jayj!” With my good arm, I pulled the blond boy into my body, laying his head back against my shoulder to keep him above the surface, to get some air into his lungs.

“Jayj?” My other hand came to grab his face, and my thighs burned with how viciously they cut through the water, treading painfully harsh to keep us afloat. His limp body drifted against mine, and the gentle tangle of our limbs made it harder to swim.

“Jayj, stay with me!” I dropped his cheek, needing the extra hand to keep us above the water. With no help around and only the unfamiliar waters to call home, I felt a bile rise in my throat, like I could vomit if my stomach wasn’t so empty, if hungry was a feeling I had grown to know.

“Please!” I gritted my teeth, feeling my head drip under the gentle waves for a moment, it stung when I opened my eyes again. “JJ, please!” I cried out, taking in every breath of air like it was a gift.

“Stay with me, stay with me!” I grunted, using all my strength. I debated letting the water take me, if only I could extend my arms to keep him a float, I would let myself drown.

My thighs burned, and my arms were too shaky to hold on for much longer. My brows furrowed and my nose burned, a familiar ache in my lungs. I knew crying would do me no good, but as my chest became hollow, I felt my tears mix with the oceans waves drowning out my face.

Everything hurt. Hurt in a way, I could never explain. It was like I could feel each edge of my heart giving out and the sharp cuts of every wheeze that huffed past my cracking lips.

The water was red. Redder than I’d ever seen the ocean because water isn’t red. Maybe it was the cut from his head staining the once vibrant seas a dark maroon, but I could see it swirling in delicate droplets down my arm, I could feel the stickiness even in the salty surroundings.

But there was also fear. Fear that my best wasn’t enough, fear that I would become inclined to give up, because giving up is much sweeter when you have the option. Dying never is. Not even when you want to. Having the urge doesn’t make the pain less scary, and so I kick restlessly to keep the both of us up.

“John B’s coming, John B’s coming, okay?” I assured the empty crowd, JJ completely unaware of the distress of the situation as he lay lifeless in my weakened arms.

His arms floated with the movement of the ocean, his hair covering his eyes. The blond hair that I adored, ran my hands through and ruffled was darker now that it was wet. Not in the way it was when he surfed, but drenched. Stuck to his skin and covering his forehead.

With one strong kick, I gained enough power to lift us up just a bit higher from the surface. My shaky hand brushed the hair from his face.

“John B!” I call out as I steal another glance at his paling face, a red stain spreading on his temple from the blow of the blade, leaking down and staining my own cheek from how close he is to me.

“Help!”

The motor of a boat catches my ear, but my lungs have given up and I’ve already sunk so far below the water, our heads are barely breaking surface.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” I pant out, my eyes shutting like it would do us any good. I could have let him go, I could have carried my own weight a moment longer, but with every doubting thought, my hands only held onto him tighter, a silent refusal to give up on him, even if it meant letting the darkness consume me.

Kiara would have yelled at me, and been proud all at once. She would have called me stupid for risking my life for someone so reckless, but then she would have clapped me on the back and said it was what any of us would have done. Pogues for life and all that.

I really missed her now, I wished she was here to scold me, I wished I wasn’t so alone.

“Hey! JJ!” A chorus of cries for us rang throughout the distance, the motor boat approaching as the others all cried out for JJ, my head slipping below the waves.

“No, no, no, no!” John B’s voice broke, the weight on my shoulder lifting, I saw Pope and John B lift him from the water through the stinging of my blurry vision, I felt him leaving my grip, but my hands only grabbed onto him harder.

Subconsciously, I couldn’t let him go. It was only hurting the both of us, we were saved, the Pogues finally finding their way to us, but part of my brain couldn’t comprehend that it was all ending soon because it was all going black. My vision, my heart, my mind.

But just before the water could suck me down, Kiara pulled me on board, her hands grabbing onto me like I had grabbed onto JJ.

“Y/n, holy shit.” Her voice shook with concern. Where her knuckles had held onto me, where my shirt was wrinkled wetly between her fingers, came the slow oozing of deep maroon down my skin, staining everything it touched.

It smeared around with every rock of the boat, and I swore I felt myself swaying. Kiara said something about the depth of the wound, how she thought she saw bone. It blurred like my vision, my lips parting only to shut at the sound of Pope and John B’s distress.

JJ laid still with his head propped up against the edge of the boat, eyes shut just as they were in the water, his eyelashes laying curled against his wet cheek.

The sight gave me a second wind, my hands craved to feel the weight of his body in my arms, to feel the warmth of his skin against my finger tips tor remind me he was here.

“JJ, no, come on!” I begged through broken tears. “Please, get up!” My hands tapped on his chest, though I was ready to press my lips against his and give him all my air if I needed to.

I crawled to him like I needed him to breathe, my knuckles scraping across the bottom of the boat, bruises and cuts littering my pruning skin. I clung to him like a vice, my lips wobbling like a child.

“Get up!” I shouted, scolding him like a mother. Yet, the brokenness of my voice seemed to carry into his empty head as his drool spilled out of his lips, spitting up onto his chest as he gained his bearings.

It was gross, the salt water mixed with the slimy drool dripping from his mouth and wetting his soaked tank top beyond what it was, but I had never seen a more relieving sight. My best friend drooling all over himself, but god, he was alive and that’s all that mattered.

The boat seemed to fall quiet for a moment, all in awe of his return, all following the wavering gaze that swept over the small boat. He was out of it, for sure. His eyes carrying a sense of question beyond what he usually held, but as he registered the faces around him as his closest friends, his family, the panic seemed to fade into a mellow knowing.

“Yeah, yeah! Cough it out, cough it out baby!” John B encouraged, a sea of instructions following from the others in a desperate hurry, all reaching over to simply feel for a steady thumping of a pulse.

I sat back on my heels, looking down at him, and revoking my warm touch from his chest quickly. Retracting it with uncertainty that it would hurt him, like he was fragile.

“Welcome to the land of the living, dude.” Pope smiled, earning a side eye from JJ as he looked around to find his friends all looking down at him with concerned gazes.

My fingers shook, hovering over his chest like I didn’t know if it was right to touch him, if I had the right. I’d felt my own chest caving in just minuted ago, I wondered if I dared to rest my palms against his skin, would he feel the same?

I laid a hand on his shoulder, and watched his vision dance from where we touched to my face, taking a moment to breathe in my presence.

“Hi.” I breathed out in relief, but also something deeper that I didn’t have the words to describe.

“‘Sup.” JJ said, his usually cool demeanor meaning nothing to me at the moment. I pushed his head away gently, still all too aware of the wound leaking from his temple, the way the blood seemed to stain everything. His hair, his skin, his stupid shirt. It tainted everything good with the memories of the bad, the unforgettable, the hurt. But I couldn’t stay away for too long.

As soon as the smile cross his golden features, my arms wrapped around his face like a blanket, holding him to my chest to feel how fast he had my heart beating. He didn’t mention the drumming against his ear, but the warmth that spread across his face told me he felt it, he knew the feeling all too well. Maybe if I had the courage to rest my hands over his heart, I would have known.

I thought of the surf trip, of his dreams, of the gold, of everything that he ever wanted, and I sweat at the thought of it never happening. I crumbled at the idea of him not getting to be a forever given in my life, of him only being a fraction of time, when I wanted it all.

“Don’t ever do that again.” I mumbled against his wet hair, but I don’t think he heard it over the chatter between him and John B, the laughter from Sarah all too loud to hear my soft whisper, a confession that really wasn’t much, but carried the weight of all my emotions.

If he did, he didn’t mention it. He was good at not mentioning it, but he was bad at forgetting.

“You’re bleeding all over the sand, Y/n.” Sarah pointed out, stepping out of the boat, allowing JJ and her husband-to-be to drag the long dead motorboat onto the shore.

An island to call home and a tropical paradise to explore for however long the summer would last and the warmth would suffice.

I was the first to let the water reach my shins, practically jumping out of the boat in a rush, an overwhelming need to feel the ground between my toes, to rinse off the grime and hurt from the failed mission. One cross gone and another home taken.

My body lay starfish position on the soft surface, my shoulder still open and aching, but dulling over time. It didn’t feel that bad anymore, and I was sure the ringing in my ears was just from the adrenaline, though, I’d never heard it before.

“That’s nasty, shes right.” Kiara agreed, trying to tug me up by the arm, only to stretch out my collar bone and earn a lazy grunt from my lips. If I were as smart as I had been prior to the stress, prior to the fact of the pact of the B Team, prior to all the shared dreams and promises to make it out, I would have asked Cleo or Pope to help mend my wounds.

Now, I just felt ready to die. Let my life wash away into the open ocean and let the jellyfish drink me up. Let the sea turtles consume me and share the same bliss of a high that I did with my friends.

“Circle of life.” I grunted, my cheek covered in sand, I buried my face into the dirt. “It’s an early Thanksgiving for the seagulls.”

“You’re so dramatic.” Kiara kicked my hip lightly, trying to move the rock of a being I had become.

“Yeah, and not everyone celebrates Thanksgiving.” Cleo joked from a distance, already gathering wood and stone for a fire. It would be dark soon anyway.

“My joints hurt.” I complained drowsily.

“No shit, I can practically see your bone. Get up.” Kiara fought, turning her head to call for back up from someone with the power to move me from my dormant headspace.

“John B, Pope!” Kiara called out with an annoyed expression, and I found myself smiling at the way her face grew fuzzier and the sounds all became one loud booming ring in my ears.

It hurt so good, a warmth covering my body like a blanket, a reward after fighting so hard. If death found me, I found it peaceful. Ready to be consumed by the darkness to avoid the haunting memory of the limp body floating in my arms. To forget about the way my heart clenched beyond repair.

It wasn’t like, it was love. I’d always known it deep down, but now I knew I could put a name to the feeling, and it terrified me. Because it replayed every second of JJ’s life slipping away, and somehow, it left out the part where he came to.

I could barely make out the shape of the trees anymore. Everything became one big collage in the sky.

“John B! JJ!” Kiara looked back, stunned by the look in my eyes, the same look that had been in JJ’s before he was taken by the waves. A look that would have haunted me for a lifetime. It now tormented Kiara.

It was a look of slipping, of giving up, giving out. The end, even.

“Help!” She cried out desperately, watching the clumsy boys scramble to the ground and catch their bearings, hands digging through the dirt to get to me.

“What happened?” Pope called out, his concerned hands holding Kiara’s shoulders and his love sick gaze failing to focus on what really matters.

Isn’t that funny? I spent all my time focused on JJ, my own gaze stuck in the permanent focus of only him. I didn’t even care to feel the pain tearing away at my skin and my bones. I barely even noticed it after a while. It became nothing compared to the something I almost lost.

Now, as I lay in the sand, choking on my breath in agonizing pain that slowly seeps through in waves, I watch through blurred vision as Pope does the same.

It seemed that it just now snapped in everyone’s mind that the maroon pooling around my arm wasn’t normal. It wasn’t like the scrapes from sharp rocks in the surges, or the nasty head wounds from countless drunken dares to climb things that shouldn’t even be looked at while sober.

The bubbling, and the smell, the metaling smell, it was sickening, and it wasn’t normal. Adrenaline can only get you so far, and hell, I’d already spent it all up.

“Y/n/n!” I heard a familiar voice, rough with exhaustion but stronger now that the day was beginning to wash over and the pain was beginning to creep away.

His dirty hands pressed hard against my skin, his delayed nature only slipping his hand over the one place it shouldn’t have been. Touch me anywhere, make me feel okay, like this isn’t really the end, but please, don’t dig your fingers around in the wound I have just for you.

It only makes things harder to mend.

“JJ!” Sarah screamed, and I threw my head back, screaming.

It hurt worse than anything, the feeling of nail against flesh. It stung more than any jellyfish and it scratched sharper than any knife. Thousands of needles shot down my veins, my knuckles stuttering into a pitiful fist.

“Stop! Stop!” I cried, my whole body shaking—no, my whole body collapsing in on itself. Folding into the earth in order to run away from the pain.

“I’m trying to help, stop squirming like a fish!” He stressed, the creases by his brow showing the wear from the evening already, we all felt as though we’d aged a century in a minute.

“Get off of me!” I tried to reach over, I didn’t want his dead hands on my cold body. I didn’t want his limp fingers rubbing against my moving joints. I didn’t want to feel what I felt in the water, and I didn’t want to see it either.

“Please, get off!” I shouted, my voice breaking like a fragile thing. A thin layer, a brittle sheet of clay crumbling under the weight of the hands that once so tenderly shaped it.

Dying does a funny thing to the mind, especially in a panic. You spend all your time trying to remember to breathe, you forget reality. Even though he was kneeling down beside me, digging around under my skin and arguing back harshly words he meant as sentiment in his overwhelming stress, to me, I had convinced myself he was dead. I didn’t do it, I couldn’t save him, I let those thoughts of giving up consume us and I watched him die in my arms.

There is no boat ride, there is no island, there is no nothing. There is only before, and the end. There is no after. Forget the fact the blood is sticking to everything, and the fact that I’ve felt John B’s cold rings slapping hard across my cheekbones to keep me aware of myself, everything is all nothing and I hear nothing but the sound of my ragged breath wheezing and my horrible cries echoing, bouncing off the Pogues.

Pope took over, finally getting his brains back. The scarecrow held firm pressure over the wound, evenly spread along my arm in a way that stung, but never scratched, never matted the fur of my mane or cut off my skin. He spoke so quickly, and it was so muffled, I began to want to hear him, take the trip down the yellow brick road and find the courage to stay.

Then, there was the ripping of a shirt. It was dark, and rough, but worn in so it felt softer that way. Then, more pain, more pressure, and then, nothing.

But this wasn’t death, because I could still hear and feel and taste the spit on my tongue, the salt water that washed everything I bit down on away. I was still there, but now, I could feel myself calming down, drowning out the silence and coming back to the truth.

“Have you considered a career as a EMT?” I panted, my heavy eyes flickering up to Popes reforming face, the hay and the straw hat fading away into just the kind boy I loved. The yellow road becoming the soft, now wet, sand beneath my back.

He smiled like a dope, clicking his tongue and showing his toothy grin. Relief was the only word to describe the silence that fell over the group at that moment, silence that felt heavy to everyone but the victim. Silence that I felt on the boat.

“I hate you.” He laughed, punching me between the ribs with a force that only could be equated to the fact that he wasn’t a liar, and it was obvious he was on the math team, not an athlete.

“No you don’t.”

My body curled up in laughter, nose scrunched and aware of the extreme caution that was required to keep my arm from splitting apart. I tried to argue back, but my words fell short on choked laughter, letting Kiara hoist me up by the waist and feeling her wet bracelets press against my warm skin. JJ simply walked away, all too quiet for a boy who never knew silence in his life.

I didn’t press him.

“Can I sit?”

Days had passed, water lapped at the shore, quenching the insurmountable thirst of the dry land before it. The wind blew softly against the greenery, and the birds sung out, diving into the distant waters for their supper.

JJ sat with his knees pulled to his chest, arms thrown over the bend lazily, hands fiddling with a sharpened stick he had been working incessantly on since he’d finished his first project, a white waving flag that read, Pougelandia.

The wind blew up the end of his shirt, a cut off tank top that once fell to his mid thigh now rested loosely at his tanned hips, ripped unevenly across the dark stitching.

He breathed evenly, eyes not even flickering over to meet mine, not a word shared between us. A dream of surf expenditures and found family adventures. We talked of island paradise when all smoothed over. When the earth buried our blood and tears, and the sting began to slip away.

There was happiness, beyond the blood and bruise, past the curses and cries. Beyond the terror of the swift nightfall, the impending cold that would have brought any surviving energy away from our warm bodies. There was calm.

He promised to make boards with dried wood, to carve them by hand, break them with his knuckles. The wood was rotting, and it was cracking quickly.

Once again, dreams were altered to fit the shitty hand that was dealt. The rich became richer, and our frames became thinner.

The world spat in our face and said it was the wind.

I sat down beside him now, and it was unusually quiet between us. I guess, this was better than the forever silence, the six feet of separation that I wanted nothing more than to leave behind. He couldn’t even see me.

“Did I do something?” I asked quietly, voiced drowned out by the sound of the sea, the distant hollers of our friends echoing above the trees. I wished I could see everything for what it is, but I had not a clue, a fool sitting beside my uncharacteristically empty best friend.

“No.” He answered plainly.

“No?” I asked, begged practically for confirmation. He nodded his head, agreeing, but it was unclear if it was an agreement within a disagreement.

“Are you sure?”

“Yup.” He popped the ‘p’, bitter, I could see it more clearly now in my new found focus.

“I can’t make it go away if you don’t tell me, Jay.” I smiled, laughing like it was a pity for us to be so awkward. And it was, it was so fucking weird. Fake niceties are weird.

Leaning forward to mirror how he sat, I tried to get a forward perspective of the furrow between his brows. He brushed the space below his nose and sniffed like he was annoyed. It reminded me of the boy who held up the cross with his bare hands on the ship, the boy who had aimed a gun at the kids he grew up with, his own sister too. His anger reminded me a lot of a Camerons anger, and I figured he had enough reason to feel stressed, he had all the reason to show it.

“This isn’t Kildare.” I reminded him.

“I know.”

“It’s just us.” I added.

“I know.” He nearly snapped, fingers tingling with annoyance, anger, grief even. It was a dying fuse ready to explode, to burn it all down.

We sat in silence for a moment, and I hoped he would speak. Rarely, we had fights. Usually they were stupid, ending in us laughing and my hips thrown over his shoulder. He never hit and neither did I, neither of us even tempted the idea. If we needed space, we gave it, though, it never lasted long because we craved each other like a dog to its owner. Like a moth to a flame, we always came back.

Still, I hoped he would speak first. I felt like I was doing most of it, carrying the conversation for five people while only speaking to one. When he remained quiet, trying to reel it in, I broke the tension.

“You can tell me what’s wrong, Jay. I’ll be here. It’s not like I could leave even if I wanted to.”

If I hadn’t lost my life, I had lost my ability to read the room, because my weak joke fell so flat, it might as well have served as the boards we never got to make together, the memories we would never get to experience. It rotted into his mind and left something so disgusting to him, I could read it on his face.

“No, no but you could.” Sand kicked up behind his heels, hands pushing up off of his knees, knuckles bruised and palmed sandy. He was scruffier than usual, but the blues of his eyes were all the same, dappled with the flickers of light I had fallen in love with so long ago.

“What?” I laughed, standing up slowly, but then jerking forward once I saw how quickly he was creating distance between us.

If we weren’t alone then, I was sure he had led us into total solidarity.

The trees were thicker here, the shoreline rocky and short, even at low tide. It would be completely gone in a few minutes when the tide would start rolling in. I could feel the water trying to break free against the soles of my shoes every time a larger wave came crashing through, between the overhangs and vines that tried and failed to barricade the sacred land.

“Because you did leave, Y/n. You left.”

JJ turned around, his hand pointing to my heart and his eyes avoiding contact where the cloth was wound tightly around my skin and bone. The shirt he tore to let me wear and to let me feel put together again. He stepped closer, closing the distance between us.

I caught the way his eyes seemed to shine more delicately in the reflection of the ocean, the way the wind blew against his blonde locks, the same shining color as his heart of gold. A loyal, fiercely protective friend who was crumbling at the mere idea that abandonment could always win, even though the people he believed would never leave.

“You left.” He repeated more quietly, his lower lip wobbling with such an intensity, I felt the bile rising up in my throat.

“I didn’t leave.” I defended quietly between choked breaths. “How could you think I would leave? I would never leave you, I wouldn’t want to.”

“Then what was that then?”

His head turned to look out at the horizon, biting down harshly on his teeth and sucking in a sharp breath through his nose. His weight shifted from left to right, fists clenching and unclenching by his side, conflict evident in his face. His brows were drawn in so tightly, his face scrunched up almost like he was in pain, like he couldn’t even fight anymore, I watched the internal battle between strength and hurt argue over who got control over his brain. I could tell which had already won his heart.

“I watched you there, Y/n. I saw the…the blood and the tears. I saw all of it, you were dead. You died.”

I shook my head, feeling a familiar lump forming in the base of my throat. Everything seemed to burn. From my sweaty palms to the flare of my nostrils and the back of my skull. It all ached dully, inflamed by the accusation that I had truly given up, that I had been gone with no intention to come rescue him.

“I was there.” My voice broke, my eyebrows pulled down in a deep frown. My palm instinctively came to cup my wound, and my fingers cupped around the fabric, pulling down gently to let the pain breathe.

Never in our decade of friendship had I ever felt so alone from JJ. We were on other worlds and it was clear, and it was something I hated being accustomed to. We were so alike, but so different in this moment. Together but so far apart. Like January and December, one after the other, following like ducks but with the distance of a lifetime between.

“I was there, I saw you standing over me.”

“You pushed me away, you didn’t need me! You didn’t want me. I saw the look in your eyes. You wanted to leave. You were okay with leaving!” JJ shouted, his voice booming. I wondered if it had the power to carry over to the others and reveal our argument to everyone. We were too far away, and I was thankful for that because I knew whatever was coming wasn’t going to be kind. I could feel the bubbling pressure building in my chest like a hot rock sizzling my flesh from the inside out, and it wanted to sink through if I didn’t spit it out.

“Can you blame me?” I cried out, tears falling from my water line in a stream of pain that cut deeper than any blade had. “I was in pain, JJ! I was in so much fucking pain! I was bleeding out, in a place I don’t know, and I’ve never felt more alone! I couldn’t breathe, JJ. I couldn’t hear anything, I couldn’t see. Why is it selfish to bother want to suffer, when I would wish you the same peace if it were to happen to you.”

JJ’s chin wrinkled in sadness, wetting his lips with his tongue and blinking back his own tears. I had so much to say and only so much air in my lungs. Only so much I could choke on before it all came out.

“The worst part is, I thought you were dead. If the damn blade didn’t kill me, you would have because I would rather die than have to live the next eternity without you by my side. I thought…I thought I failed you, and I couldn’t even look anyone in the eye because all I could see was your face in the water. Do you know how terrifying that was? To have your limp body weighing me down in the ocean? My best friend, my buddy, the only person I’d ever want to bother me like you do. Dead, all because of me? Do you know how guilty I’ve been? How guilty you’ve made me? I’m a god damn monster, and it’s a shame I turned out like I did because I had the potential to be something like you. But I can’t be because I’m a failure. Because even for even for a moment, I was thinking that maybe we would both be better off if I just gave up? If I let the ocean take us because god, if the light hasn’t been kind then the darkness can at least give me some damn peace!”

We both fell quiet now. My chest heaved with anxiety. My bones felt heavy, I felt heavy. I felt stupid, and I knew nothing I was saying made sense. It was all mindless rambling about everything I’d been mulling over for what felt like years.

“I love you. A-and I mean that in a way that I’ve never known before, and that fucking terrifies me. It terrifies me that theres always a chance that one day I won’t have the privilege to lay next to you, or-or to sit with you on the porch at John B’s and just talk about things that don’t matter like they do. Like, I love you, dude! And I can’t act like I don’t anymore. I thought…I thought that if I pushed it down, if I ignored it then maybe I could forget about it, but I can’t. Because the truth is I’ve always loved you. And I’m sorry if this means everything has been a lie, if I’m a fraud but I can’t pretend like I wouldn’t die for you, because I would and I tried.”

“I’m sorry, what?” JJ breathed, eyes wide and lips parted. He was shocked, and so was I. There was no going back, it was eat the words or let the words eat me. The truth was out, and I couldn’t deny it.

“I love you.”

Silence. Every moment led me here, to this island. Every time I grabbed onto the back of his jacket to steady myself, or the times I pawed at his chest to get him to stop trying to antagonize the Kooks. I followed him to the ends of the earth, literally. That was proof of my love, if not, it proved my devotion.

“I’m sorry.” JJ whispered back. His eyes shined with freckles of light from the waves and the stars and the sun. He couldn’t say it back, and I knew why because I know him, but we both knew what he meant to say with his apology.

“Me too.” I breathed out.

Often, our friends would poke fun that we couldn’t keep it under wraps around each other. That our lingering touches and fleeting glances were too romantic to be a friendly gesture. Maybe part of their teasing was right, but not completely.

Stepping forward in the sand, I felt the warmth of his arms pulling me into his chest, the strength and the kindness familiar, but the touches deeper and different. Where we once dappled with affection became a feeling that dominated now. We’d stood like this before, but with the confession hanging between our lips, everything was different.

His breathing, his gaze, the curve of his lips, the tucking of his nose against my cheek. We bumped noses blindly, his fingers dancing up my spine to the small of my back. I felt his eyelashes tickle my skin before I felt the rough-soft mixture of his lips pressing against mine.

It felt like something out of a movie, like fantasy. All those stupid stories I’d never believed where the lovers fit together perfectly made complete sense now as we molded together with a dance we knew all too well.

My hands reached for the back of his neck desperately, pawing at whatever curves I could get a grip on. It was slow, a steady pour of the heart into each other and completely intoxicating up until the moment we split apart for air.

“I should die more often if you’ll kiss me like that.” I joked, laughing into the crook of his neck.

“Nah, you don’t gotta do all that anymore.” He promised.

Affection was never our thing, love was foreign and forgiveness came hard. We held grudges and fought secrets for each other, and in the end, it’s what made us make perfect sense.

I look at JJ now in the dimming light above the ocean, and I no longer see the reflection of his empty gaze and heavy body. I see adoration, a softness that I’d always failed to recognize before.

“Jay?” I mumbled, chasing his lips again. He hummed against my skin, warm air tickling my body.

“Save it for the surf trip, okay?” I teased.

He growled playfully, squeezing the curves of my hips and nipping at my shoulder.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

I laughed.

“I’d save you.”

“Maybe.” JJ smiled, beaming with love.

After a moment of silence in each others arms, I felt his chest expand with a calm breath, and the stutter in mine silenced whatever thought he was about to blurt out impulsively.

“We should probably really consider getting passports.” I suggested softly, still longing for the surf trip with my best friend.

“Hell no, thats some kook bullshit” He argued softly, his smile still stretched against my skin.

“The kookiest.” I agreed.

I felt JJ pull away to breathe in the salty air. His eyes remained trained on mine, and the look gave me deja vu to a time not so long ago. A look we shared in the sweltering confinements of the cargo ship container. Only, now that I wasn’t blinded by a mixture of excitement for the treasure and the fear of failure, I could see the real gold in front of me. I could understand the gravity of his gaze.

A look that would fluster me for a life time.

#jj maybank x routledge!reader #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank fluff #jj mayback x reader #jj maybank x you #jjmaybank #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #jjmaybankangst #jj maybank x pogue!reader #maybank #maybankxyou

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cobaltperun · 3 days ago

Text

Darkest Part (5) - Bad Medicine

Astrid Deetz x female Reader

Summary: You will never, in life or afterlife, if such a thing exists, meet anyone as infuriating, rage inducing, entitled, or frankly awful, as Astrid fucking Deetz. There isn’t a single thing you’d like more than to never be around her, but as your luck would have it, you just can’t stay away from her.

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

Word count: 6.5k

-Your love is like bad medicine, bad medicine is what I need-

The afterlife was so damn random. Your first experience with afterlife was an office with a bunch of tall men with shrunken heads. Some of them had only one eye! And not in the eyepatch kind of way, but in the one big eye like a cyclops way! And one of them was dressed exactly like Beetlejuice, and that was the most normal thing in this entire office! “What the fuck,” you whispered as Beetlejuice turned to the one dressed just like him.

“Bob, you and the boys stand guard! Nobody gets through,” he then turned to Lydia “Let's go, honey,” well you were already here so there was no going back. Why were you doing this again? Oh, yeah, because Astrid went and got herself into trouble. You went after him and Lydia only to be met with even more randomness and the utter bizarre feeling permeating this entire world. You realized everything was tilted, the floors, the walls, absolutely everything in this place was at an angle and it wasn't even consistent! If it wasn't for this kind of circumstance, you would actually marvel at the architecture of all of this.

“We’re like Bonnie and Clyde, you and me, without bullet holes,” Beetlejuice pointed out almost giddily as he led you and Lydia down the halls.

“Do you even know where we’re going?” Lydia wasn't having any of it.

“You go right down the hallway, three rights through the ninth door right,” he pumped his fist. “To the Soul Train,” Beetlejuice instructed you and it made it sound like he wasn't going with you.

“Where are you going? Lydia asked immediately, for all her dislike of the whatever Beetlejuice was he did seem powerful, and if you were going to save Astrid from the clutches of death you might as well have someone powerful on your side. Someone who actually knew where you were supposed to head after you rescue her.

“I’m gonna go to the little boy’s room first,” why did a guy that was probably a powerful demon or spirit of sort and probably very, very old, just use that phrase? Why was he so immature? Just why?

“Fuck it, let's just go,” you ran through the halls following the directions Beetlejuice gave you and soon enough you could see the crowd forming on your path. “That’s a good sign,” you told Lydia and she nodded. The crowd did slow you down a bit, but not by a lot, they seemed more interested in dancing and having fun rather than actually getting to their destination. Well, if after life was for an eternity then you guessed they didn't really have anywhere to rush, they would have all the time in the world.

Unless there were something you didn't know about and ghosts could die and now your head hurt because you were thinking about too many things that you didn't need to think about right now! You entered the train station that looked kind of like a disco themed train station and the music playing kind of gave it that feel too. You looked over the crowd from the stairs looking for Astrid but all you could see was a lot of dead people.

“Astrid!” Lydia yelled from the stairs and then you caught sight of the two people dragging someone in a dress that looked a lot like what Astrid was wearing for Halloween.

“There,” was no way you would mistake anyone for her. “There she is!” you pointed your finger towards her and jumped over the fence running through the crowd as quickly as you could, pushing through the ghosts just as Astrid was pushed on to the train. “Damn it!” you cursed trying to keep your sight on the doors they pushed Astrid through. “Astrid!” you yelled as loud as you could, for the first time ever saying her name, though that didn't even cross your mind, and you pushed through the door where she stood, frozen in fear and clearly panicking on the inside. “Come on, let's get out of here,” you grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the train just as Lydia caught up to you.

“Astrid!” Lydia quickly pulled her into a hug and Astrid immediately wrapped her arms around her mother. There was no hesitation, or resentment Astrid carried up until now, there was just pure happiness at seeing her mother.

You smiled, happy that you made it in time, though you would still have to find the bastard that tricked Astrid into trading her soul. You should have known things were going too easy. Not only did the guys that pushed Astrid into the train came back due to all the commotion you made, but there were also some guys dressed like police officers pointing toward you and Lydia. “We need to run!” you yelled and all three of you looked around for an exit that wasn't blocked.

“Over there,” Lydia pointed at the door to your left.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” you muttered to Astrid as the three of you began running.

“Save it for later, Barnacle,” she hissed at you, but you could tell she knew this was still a really bad situation. For all you knew you would be running right into another trap and you had no idea how to reunite with Beetlejuice so he could help you deal with the rest of Astrid’s problem.

Since you reached it first you forcefully pushed the doors open, only to stumble forward and fall face first into the sand from way too high. How were you not hurt? Sure, the sand cushioned your fall, but still…

A shriek from above made your eyes widen and the next thing you felt was a body falling right on top of you and not only knocking all the air out of your lungs but also managed to fill your mouth with sand.

“Sorry,” of course it was Astrid that fell on top of you.

You just spat out the sand that got into your mouth and sighed, at this point you should have been concerned about your safety and health, but from the looks of it, working for Delia made you free from such petty burdens. Still, unlike falling onto the sand, this one hurt, like actually hurt, and you just knew you would be feeling it for a long time. “Forget the chihuahua you are much heavier than that. You're an entire pack of chihuahuas!” you groaned, and accidentally missed the smile on her face as she patted you on the shoulder.

“At least you've softened the fall for me, Y/N,” did she just say your name? You must have hit your head. That was the only explanation.

You laughed mockingly. “That's exactly what I intended. My life's purpose is now fulfilled, and I can die in peace,” sarcasm dripped from your voice as you stood up with a long, audible, groan. You were 95% certain you would end up with back pain for the rest of your life from Astrid falling on top of you.

Astrid groaned and smacked her forehead. “You didn't just say that. Right here and right now,” she sighed, and well, you supposed this was a really bad timing.

No regrets though! In fact, you were rather satisfied grinning with pride.

“And you regret nothing, of course you don’t,” she pinched the bridge of her nose, but you swore you could see a smile on her face. Astrid finally looked around and you felt absolutely lost, after all, all you were seeing was all the sand and more sand and endless sand around you. “Hey, where are we?” Astrid asked what probably all three of you were thinking.

“I don't know,” Lydia admitted and you just shrugged. Geography really wasn't your strongest suit but it didn't look like any desert you were aware of.

“Is that Saturn?” you followed Astrid’s line of sight and the direction she was pointing at, and sure enough… there was a fucking planet right there! “So, we must be on one of its moons? I swear the afterlife is so random!”

“You can say that again,” you said, you definitely weren't guessing that from just the planet but now that you looked at it, it really did seem obvious. Still, damn this girl was smart.

All of a sudden the sand close to you began shaking and looking like it was rippling, like something underneath it was moving.

“Maybe we should just, you know, run!” there was no way that was a good sign and you weren’t about to wait for Astrid and Lydia to get the message, you just pushed them away from the sand and began running away from whatever was moving under the sand. From the looks of it, it was big and you did not want to risk becoming a dinner for some afterlife monster.

And you made a good decision as something emerged from the sand and you looked back. “Holy shit!” you cried out. It was some kind a huge worm and it was easily bigger than any animal aside from a whale that you ever saw.

“Sandworm!” Lydia identifying the creature wasn’t helping, but now you would at least know you got eaten by a sandworm if you failed to escape.

“Got any idea how to escape?!” you glanced at Lydia. She was the expert, surely she had-

“None! Just keep running!” yeah, great, that would work, especially when the sandworm caught up to them much faster than they were running. And then by some miracle a door opened above you.

“Take my hand!” someone yelled, and at this point you didn’t care if it was a demon, or police, or anything, as long as it wasn’t this sandworm. You and Lydia let Astrid up first, and then Lydia pushed you to go ahead next. You were not about to argue with her, so you let the man pull you up and then helped him bring Lydia up as well and he closed the door right as the sandworm collided with it.

You dropped down on the floor and took several deep breaths. There would be a lot to unpack here if you survived. And the worst thing about it? If you told any of this to roughly 99% or even every single psychiatrist you’d be sent to an asylum.

“Dad,” Astrid whispered and you finally glanced at the man that saved you. Actually, now that you looked at him, you could see some resemblance, especially if one ignored the color of his skin and the fishes attached to his body eating his flesh. Well, at least someone was making some good memories in this damn world. The best you had this far was Astrid falling on top of you, and that would probably leave long-lasting consequences on your back. Astrid and Lydia hugged the man and you just sat back, letting the family reunion unfold undisturbed by your presence.

~X~

Astrid's dad let you all into an office of sorts and poured coffee into the mugs as Lydia and Astrid sat at the table you stood back not really sure how to act and not wanting to intrude on the family reunion. Besides, there was another issue, as much as you could see that Astrid needed some closure and a moment with her dad you also knew your time was ticking. Not to mention there was some kind of police after you and Lydia for entering this world while still being alive, and there was also the bastard that stole Astrid's life to be dealt with. So, as much as you understood Astrid needed to have this moment with her father you also knew you just had to go.

In fact, you had to leave five minutes ago.

“Marie Curie, after the radiation poisoning. Right?” her dad asked, and you finally took a better look at her. You didn’t dare to ask her what her costume was when she was leaving and now that you looked at her properly and her dad pointed it out, well, it was obvious…

Like hell it was!

Who would look at that dress and immediately go: ‘Oh, yeah, Marie Curie!’ and sure, it was pretty much as close to her dress and hairstyle from one of her most well-known photos, but still! How many people would remember the exact dress right away?

“Learnt from the best,” but Astrid did look proud of herself, so you figured you should let the chihuahua be delusional.

“We made a great kid,” Astrid’s dad turned to Lydia and no matter what you did less than an hour ago you were very tempted to disagree.

“I know you can't see me, but I check in on your both all the time,” okay, that was actually really sweet. “And I don't want to be the reason that drove you two apart, you need each other, you make each other better. Always have,” you blinked a few times, taking in the image of the happy family hug.

This was too wholesome for your own good. This was not the side of Astrid you needed to see!

Damn it!

When the family separated Astrid glanced at you and froze for a moment before smirking. “Don’t go soft on me now, Barnacle,” she just had to call you out, didn’t she?!

Blood rushed to your face, and you were sure steam burst out of your ears. Considering how crazy and absurd this whole place was, maybe it did happen. “I am not! And quit wasting time, we need to get your soul back, you damn chihuahua!” you swiftly left the room. You would get Astrid’s soul back, leave this afterlife world, and never see the damn chihuahua again!

Astrid walked out after you, with her parents right behind her. “Come on, before our cantankerous Barnacle gets lost,” she said it with a strange sense of cheerfulness in her tone, but that was the least of your worries.

“Can-Cantan- I’m sorry, what?!” you stammered, not even remotely capable of figuring out the meaning of that word.

“Cranky, grumpy,” her dad provided, and you finally figured out where she got it from.

“Fucking chihuahua,” you felt your eye twitching as she just laughed at you.

“Come on,” while still laughing she actually went and grabbed your forearm, pulling you along. “Which way, dad?” she asked, turning to her dad as you focused on her hand wrapped around your forearm.

“Right down the hall, we need to stop him before the transfer becomes permanent,” her dad took lead, and you could feel Astrid’s grip on your arm getting tighter and it finally made sense to you. She needed a sense of normality, so she provoked you, so she could, at least for a moment, forget her life was still on the line.

~X~

You followed Astrid’s dad through the halls, having no idea which way you were going but according to him you would need to intercept the bastard that tricked Astrid before he got his passport stamped and made the transfer permanent. Why was it so easy for him to accomplish his goal while you, frankly, had no idea how to get the process reversed.

You didn't know what you could do to stop him, sure you could catch him, but what then? “Hey, how do we make him give Astrid’s soul back?” because you doubted a monster like him would just hand it over.

Astrid’s dad stopped for a moment. “I'm not sure, we’ll figure it out after we catch him,” he turned to Astrid. “We’ll figure it out, sweetheart, I promise you.”

“Dad,” Astrid whispered now uncertain what the outcome of this would be.

“I promise,” he repeated even though all four of you knew that deep down maybe this was an empty promise.

And it damn near was just an empty promise.

You reached the entrance of the officers only to see the guy smirking smugly. He was too far away, you couldn’t reach him. “Don't stamp that passport!” Astrid’s dad yelled but it was too late whoever was behind the counter stamped the passport.

“You're too late, man,” he said and your eyes widened as you, instinctively rather than through a conscious effort, caught Astrid as she slumped back. Your heart beat wildly inside of your chest, how could you have let this happen? You looked at Astrid and you couldn't even apologize. You all failed her, the transfer was complete and she would die right here. You just didn't make it in time.

But then as if by some miracle the floor opened beneath the man and he just fell through into the flames. Then you saw what happened, the one who put the stamp on the transfer was Beetlejuice. A sense of relief flooded you, but you could not ignore how useless you felt. If he wasn't there you would have failed, this would have all been for nothing.

There wasn’t time to celebrate though. “This way!” Astrid's dad led you once more, after all, you still had the police after you and Lydia to worry about. He led you until you reached a small room with a crooked ladder leading through an opening in the ceiling.

“OK, this is as far as I go,” Astrid’s dad said and immediately Astrid hugged him.

“I love you,” she whispered wanting him to know that because there was no telling when she would get the chance to say it again.

“I love you too, sweetheart. Have an amazing life,” he held her as tightly as he possibly could before letting her go and looking at both her and Lydia. “Take care of each other, I'll see you later,” he told them both.

The three of you climbed outside and it turned out you were back at the cemetery, somehow. “I'm not even going to question anything,” you sighed, at this point learning to accept that the things around this family were just going to be weird and you had no control over it.

It definitely felt good to breathe in some fresh air. Even if your back hurt. ��Yup, this is going to keep hurting,’ you thought and frowned as you massaged your lower back.

Astrid turned to Lydia. “Thank you for saving my life! I'm so sorry I never believed that you saw ghosts and, I’m just sorry for all of it,” Astrid was crying for the first time since you met her, she apologized with all of her heart to Lydia, and you looked away not wanting to interrupt the moment.

It just crossed your mind that you had no place in any of this. You were, at best, Delia's assistant who just happened to be there. You had no connection to either Lydia or Astrid other than the fact that you and Astrid did not exactly like each other, so being here actually felt uncomfortable.

Now that the adrenaline was gone and Astrid was saved you caught yourself wondering why you even went after Astrid. Lydia could have done it herself and you went and risked your life for someone you claimed to hate, and it was the most ridiculous decision you could have made.

“Oh my God, my wedding!” Lydia’s shout broke you out of your thoughts and that was the last thing you expected to hear from her right now, but here you were.

“Wait, mom, after everything that's happened tonight you know you don't have to do this, right?” Astrid went after her mother and then she realized you weren't following her. She turned to you grabbed you by the hand, pulling you along.

“Wait, Chihuahua!” you protested, but you really should have known you weren’t going to accomplish anything.

“Come on, please. After all of this I can’t deal with this wedding alone,” she admitted and you sighed, deciding to leave the feelings related to whether you should or shouldn't have gone after Astrid for later. At the end of the day, you did the right thing. You wanted to save her life consequences be damned, you had no intention of feeling guilt over that. And the feeling of her hand wrapped around your made that decision much easier.

“I might as well deal with this stupid wedding as well,” you shrugged, ignoring how your heart speed up when she smiled at your words.

Satisfied that you were coming with her and still holding your hand, Astrid turned to her mother once more. “Are you sure about this?”

Lydia was not sure, you could tell that. but she probably figured that if she didn’t do it now she would just get cold feet later and give up on the wedding altogether. Which would be a smart thing to do but you doubted she would reach that decision that easily. “Rory loves me and that's gotta be enough,” there was definitely something about her Rory loved, and you really believed it wasn’t what Lydia thought it was.

The three of you went into the church and the relief on Rory's face looked genuine, which was actually surprising, but then you heard the crowd already filming the event sitting on the pews and it all made sense. “Oh my God, I thought you got cold feet.”

“No, blame me. She just saves me for my date from hell,” Astrid sad and you probably couldn't describe what happened to her in a better way. A date from hell has never been so literal.

“Who are all these people?” Lydia was understandably confused as she looked at the people Rory invited, and you could tell she didn’t recognize any of them.

“Just a couple of influencers. Nobody under 5 million followers and I think we have a Netflix executive in here,” and Rory found nothing wrong with that. He had his ideas and he was not going to compromise them for the sake of Lydia’s comfort, and you know for a fact that she said she didn't want too many guests, that she wanted this to be private.

“Damn you're an asshole,” you shook your head, only now realizing Delia wasn’t here, and sure, she could be self-absorbed at times, and she disliked Rory, but she wouldn’t miss this. “Where is Delia?” you asked.

“Right here! She’s helping me calm down before the wedding,” and Beetlejuice was right here, probably to collect on his part of the deal with Delia somehow right with him.

How did that even-? You weren’t even going to bother anymore. You thought the madness would be over by now, but no, the show was still going on.

You patted Astrid on the shoulder and just slumped against the wall until you sat down. “Look, I’m just gonna sit here and rest for a bit, I need a moment,” was there a way to get therapy and avoid being sent to an asylum for the rest of your life?

Astrid had a strangely compassionate look on face. “Yeah, sure. Thanks for being here, and I mean it,” somehow you trusted her, even with all the banter and fights between the two of you. She crouched down so she was at your eye-level. “I mean it, Y/N,” you definitely trusted her and you smiled nudging her lightly toward her mother.

What followed was the back and forth between Beetlejuice and Rory that you frankly didn't care about much but what really got your attention was when Beetlejuice just randomly manifested a syringe with something inside of it and injected Rory with it. And apparently what was within it was some kind of a truth serum.

Rory looked like he was trying to stay silent, but then he couldn’t hold it back anymore. “I always thought your whole act was bullshit! I never believed in ghosts, spirits or any of it,” well now you were kind of happy you didn't go back to the house because seeing this emotional manipulator get his just deserts was worth it.

“What? All this time? Why did you want to get married?” Lydia had the most reasonable reaction to Rory's confession, but you honestly had to wonder just how he managed to trick her so well she.

“Money! I knew I could make more as your husband than I could as your manager! Oh, and I never had a dead fiancé! I just went to that survivors retreat so that I can weak women and exploit them and I hit the codependent lottery when I met you!” he was truly, absolutely a scumbag. An ever bigger one than you imagined.

And then Beetlejuice continued to defy all the laws of logic and the nature and created a boxing glove on Lydia's right hand, which somehow gave Lydia enough strength to punch Rory across the church.

“Okay, that was satisfying to see, but what the hell is going on here? Just how?” you asked blankly, just for a moment wondering why you even bothered trying to reasonably explain things happening tonight.

“Beats me, we got to see Rory flying,” Astrid pointed out and well you couldn’t see the flaw in that logic. “Say, what would you confess if someone injecting that into you?” oh no…

“I can arrange that,” Beetlejuice said before you could react and one second later you felt a needle pierce your neck and off you went just like Rory did.

You weren’t even trying to fight it. “I don't hate you, at all. Actually, I kinda like you. I mean, you do annoy me, but I like you. Uh, thanks for you know, fixing my drawing and I'm really impressed by your vocabulary, and that really infuriates me because I have to Google a lot of words because of you,” you took a deep breath and just sighed, not even capable of looking at Astrid right now because of how embarrassed you were. “And I think you are really beautiful, and damn that thing really works… Oh my God, this is a nightmare,” you glanced at Astrid and saw she was completely red in the face. “Well, at least seeing you blush makes it worth it,” you had to shut your mouth and make a genuine effort to keep more of how you felt from spilling out.

“Barnacle,” at this point that was turning into a pet name more than an insult, so you fired right back.

“Chihuahua,” the two of you had the strangest nicknames for one another that was clear by now. “I actually don’t mind that you call me that,” you admitted, still under the effect of the serum and smacked your forehead. “Fuck!” you cursed.

Astrid looked away, still blushing. “Noted,” she muttered, but you could see the smile on her face.

Finally, you looked away from Astrid and immediately saw horror that would haunt you for the rest of your life. At this point you could make a rather long list of those things. But this one was at the very top, as the people who Rory invited were being sucked into their phones. You were tempted to just leave but you weren’t about to leave Astrid here. Even if you were mostly sure she wouldn’t be hurt.

And then you must have been transported into a fever dream because Lydia suddenly changed into a red wedding dress, Beetlejuice’s clothes changed as well, music started playing and there was this huge melting, kind of disgusting looking, cake and you were all forced to dance and then the police zombies showed up.

And then, just as randomly as you were forced to start dancing you just stopped. “Is it finally over?” you asked no one in particular, though Astrid and Delia were the closest to you.

“Knowing this guy? This is just the beginning,” yeah Delia really had a way to console you and make you feel better.

The door slammed open suddenly all of you could see a woman, covered in stitches, standing there menacingly, and you had no idea who she was but something about her made her seem dangerous.

“Beetlejuice!” oh, yeah, he did start mentioning an ex before you interrupted him. That felt like a lifetime ago at this point.

“What the fuck?” oh, you were absolutely fucked if Beetlejuice of all people… or well, ghosts or demons or whatever he was, said that.

So, you did the most reasonable thing you could and stood in front of Astrid just in case this woman decided to turn her attention toward her. “What are you doing?” she hissed at you, but she did grab onto your shoulder.

“I don’t know, we are surrounded by supernatural beings and I clearly have a death wish, because I’d rather get between you and that, than let you get hurt,” oh, you were still under the effect of the truth serum.

“I'm back,” the woman declared.

“We can se-“ you were about to speak, but Astrid quickly put her hand over your mouth.

“Maybe that truth serum wasn’t worth it,” she groaned, pressing her forehead against your shoulder.

“You think?” your voice came out muffled by her hand, but you still said what came to your mind. “Look, if that guy looks afraid, I think we need to be afraid too,” you whispered, and Astrid nodded and as subtly as she could pointed toward the book near the three of you.

“Cover me,” Astrid said and you weren't sure how you were going to do it, but seeing as Beetlejuice was trying to talk his way out of whatever trouble he was in you figured he had you all covered.

Astrid came back to your and Delia’s side with the book in hands and flipped through the pages until she found the part about the Sandworms. “Can you get me something I can draw with?” she asked, and you were never so happy you always had a pen at your disposal.

“Here,” you handed it to her. Astrid nodded, drawing the square on the floor before knocking and then she pushed you and Delia away from the square, and just in time as the sandworm broke through the floor.

“Astrid, you are- I don't even have the words,” you could only watch as Beetlejuice directed the worm toward Rory and the woman and made it eat them. Which was somehow not even the most bizarre thing that happened tonight.

“OK, can we just go now?” you asked and from the looks of it everyone seemed to agree with you as you, and Astrid, Lydia and Delia all began heading for the exit.

“Hey, we had a deal!” Beetlejuice reminded Lydia, with the contract she signed held in his hand.

Much to your surprise, Astrid stepped forward. “She doesn’t have to marry you. You violated code 699! Yes, you illegally brought my mom into the afterlife,” she lifted the damn book up. “According to this book that contract is null and void,” Astrid explained. Did you ever admit that you actually really liked this girl because you did and she just rescued her mom back.

“Truth serum still works,” Delia snickered next to you.

“Fuck!” you cursed, knowing full well you said that and that, given you were merely half a dozen feet away from Astrid, she heard you.

Lydia stepped closed to Beetlejuice. “Look I'm sorry things didn't work out between us, but the six hundred year age gap was a little bit too much for me. Beetle-“ he began hissing but she just raised her finger. “Beetlejuice,” he began inflating as Lydia for his name, “Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice” Beetlejuice just popped like a balloon. That was it, he was gone. This was probably over now.

Hopefully.

There was still a chance you would jinx yourself right here and now and another bullshit would happen.

Police officers from the world of the dead unfroze and their detective began yapping about forensics and keeping the media away and he even posed so you could all take a selfie, and you were doing your very best to ignore him. That is until he reached over and just grabbed Delia. “Sister you're coming with me,” he said.

“Hey wait, she belongs here,” you went to stop him, consequences be damned, but before you could reach her Delia just shook her head and you halted, confused by her reaction. She was just fine when you last saw her, but then you saw them, the bite marks.

“What? Delia what did you do?” Lydia asked, exasperated.

“I fell for a scam and I'm counting on you to claim a refund,” the snakes, the damn snakes.

“The snakes were actually poisonous, weren't they?” Astrid voiced what you just realized.

“Yeah. So, I died of embarrassment,” yeah, sure you could go with Delia's explanation.

“Whatever makes you rest in peace,” you grinned at her for a bit, but the smile fell as quickly as it appeared. She was dead, and you came to really care about her.

“Your work is gonna go up in value,” and Astrid was joking as well or rather finding the brighter side and the entire situation.

“Oh well then,” and at least it made Delia happy.

“Oh, Delia, I’ll miss you,” Lydia reached over and touched her stepmother.

“No you won't! I'll find Charles and we'll haunt you all until you beg us to move on,” Delia promised and you were sure she would keep her words, and then she was taken away leaving only you Astrid and Lydia in the church.

“Well, this was… an experience,” you had no idea how things would continue from this point on. Was Rory dead? Were all the people he invited just gone? This was too much of a headache, a fever dream you were hoping to wake up from.

Wait…

Delia was dead!

“Fuck! I lost my job!” you cursed only for Astrid to pat you on the back.

~X~

The next morning you woke up still under the effect of what happened the previous night and all the things you learned saw and experienced. In your mind that was supposed to be an unknown and now you knew what happened after death. Now you knew how things were once someone dies and from the looks of it now you could see ghosts just like Lydia and Astrid. And then there was Astrid… and all the things you said under the effects of that damn truth serum.

Slowly, with a frown on your face and some pain in your back, you got out of your bed and got ready for the day. You were actually surprised you even slept last night, but maybe you were just that exhausted.

You went down the stairs to find Astrid sitting there. “Hey,” she actually greeted you first without snide remark or an insult hurled toward you she even had a small smile on her face. So, the last night really did happen. If the pain in your back wasn’t enough of a proof this definitely was.

“Hey,” neither of you seemed eager to actually have a conversation after everything that happened. You understood, she damn near died so if you were in her shoes you probably would have tried staying in bed for as long as you possibly could. You'd probably start avoiding every single person fearing they might try to trade their your life for their own, so she was handling this a lot better than you would.

“You aren't the ghost, are you?” she tried to joke but at this point you understood why she questioned absolutely everything.

“Unless everyone I've been interacting with is also a ghost, no I am alive. Are you?” you fired back the same question, though it was absolutely a joke and she, luckily, chuckled a bit

“Yeah, I don't think we need another proof of that, after I nearly lost my life,” she had a point there and you both just grinned at each other. Where were you supposed to take this? All of this?

“Did you sleep at all?” you asked after a bit of actually comfortable silence.

She just shook her head. “I couldn't. I can't stop thinking about everything. There are so many things on my mind I just couldn't fall asleep,” you noticed the dark circles underneath her eyes which you originally guessed where the remnants of her costume but now that you were a bit closer to her you realized it was just from not sleeping last night. “You?”

“I did, somehow. I think I was just exhausted,” your whole world changed and you couldn’t tell if it was for the better or for the worse. But even with all those strange experiences you would absolutely need therapy for it still wasn't as significant or big as the change Astrid just went through. After all while you believed in ghosts and didn't really think about afterlife Astrid actually denied them, believed it was, well you didn't know what she believed in exactly, but you guessed she believed there was just nothing after death.

“I get that,” she agreed and finally looked you in the eyes and you just saw the question at the tip of her tongue. “Why did you come with my mom? Why did you come to rescue me?” and that was bothering her too. She couldn’t explain it.

“I don't know,” that wasn't exactly true, but you really didn't know the entire reason you took such a big risk. Liking Astrid wasn’t all there was to it. You took a deep breath and shrugged. “I guess I just couldn't stand by when someone I know got tricked into losing her life. I just didn’t want you dead, Astrid,” you admitted.

“That's the third time you said my name, you know? In all the time you've known me,” she smiled softly, and she was right, it really was the third time you said her name. It felt kind of strange, almost unique on your tongue, because you've never really mentioned her name to other people either. You just either called her by her last name or simply chihuahua so saying Astrid would take some getting used to.

“I guess I did,” you looked at the table. “I was thinking, and you can say no, but would you like to start over? Maybe try to be friends or maybe you know go out for a coffee? I mean I imagine whatever I come up with won't be as bad as your first date so you know, we could make it a friendly date and fix the impression on dating you probably have right now? And now I'm rambling but you get the point!” you were ready for her to decline, to say that, while she can tolerate you now and maybe doesn’t want you to die either, she just wasn't interested in building any kind of friendship with you, much less going on a date.

But instead she actually smiled and looked down a little bit shyly. “I'd actually like that. We can go on the date, an actual date, I mean if that's not too fast for you,” she lightly scratched her cheek in embarrassment. “Looks like I kind of have a knack for rushing things,” she laughed and you laughed with her.

Date it was.

Taglist: @alexkolax @osnapitzmel1 @bee-keeping @nebthetautora @lololauser

@nwestra @rroyale-109 @gemz5 @social-pomegranate @mirage018

@the-thing-withfeathers @hello-mtf @leafanonsforest @jaxon-nathaniel-drake @niqmandu

Masterlist / First part / Previous Part

A/N: This chapter kicked my ass! Fuck! I actually got annoyed writing it! Damn am I glad it's over, but fuck, it's so bad. Writing feels choppy, Reader basically just stands there, for most of the chapter. And it could have been much worse, I could have included the dance scene properly... Fuck, I hate this chapter. I need some Lost to recover from this, be back after I rewrite a couple of Lost chapters. You all might be getting Lost Prologue sooner or later.

#astrid deetz x female reader #astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz #beetlejuice beetlejuice #x reader #x female reader #jenna ortega x reader

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loveandleases · 14 hours ago

Note

Tormenting Chris and Jade submission for balance: I forgot to ask how they'd react to the poly route with Kara X Isaac. Chris's desire to love and support Kara in direct opposition to their desire to judge any dynamic with Isaac--

Love having some balance. (Called for a scenario so rest will be under the cut!)

Chris taps along their phone, their finger hovering just above the screen, caught between pressing and not pressing, between action and restraint. One name. One person their mind refuses to release. They can still see your face clearly; hear the way their name sounds when it leaves your lips. Their expression is taut, posture rigid as they scan the apartment around them—pristine, perfect, just like their life used to be. Until you came into it.

A scoff escapes their lips as they run a hand through their icy-blonde hair. How typical, they think, people stirring up trouble, thinking Chris cares what you do.... How did they even know? Is it in their face? In the way their thoughts creep in, reminding them of what was lost—or what, no, who, they tossed aside?

Jade’s voice rings in Chris’s ears, the memory of her words sharp and biting: “MC was always so hard to please, always unsatisfied despite everything our parents had given them. Since they couldn’t have you, they settled for Kara. Isaac was just the cherry on top—a person with a jaded past that they could take pity on. Along for the ride, because everyone knows the rumors about Isaac. Never staying with someone for too long unless they get bored.”

Their jaw tenses as their eyes linger on the photo laid out on the coffee table—your smile, a smile they hadn't seen in so long. You give it so freely, so easily. To Isaac and Kara of all people. One on either side of you, Kara’s lips close to your ear, whispering something while Isaac’s hand rests casually on your knee. Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara, not after everything Chris learned. They deserve to be with you even less. The number of times they’ve seen their hand roam on people’s bodies…they shouldn’t be touching you so freely. So openly. Where people can see, where Chris can see.

The photo cuts deeper than Chris anticipated, and before they can stop themselves, their fingers are already dialing Kara’s number. Their leg begins to shake with annoyance, the phone ringing louder than their pulse. Kara always picked up quickly—never more than three rings. So why isn’t she now? Was there always something there? Was there something going on behind the scenes?

Were the two of you… no, Kara wouldn’t do that to me. You wouldn’t do that to me.

Kara finally answers, her voice groggy with sleep. “Hello?”

Chris freezes. It’s four in the morning. They’d spent the whole night obsessing, thinking about the three of you—disgusting.

Chris opens their mouth to speak, but the sound of Isaac’s groan and your voice cuts through the silence. “Who is it?”

The question makes their blood run cold. You’re both there? Why are you with her?

“Chris?” Kara’s voice breaks through their thoughts, sharp and concerned.

“Tell me this is a joke.” Chris’ voice cracks, disbelief flooding their words. They force out a thin, bitter laugh. “This is a joke, isn’t it, Kara?”

“Chris, how di—”

“Let me talk to them.”

“Wh—who?”

“Let me talk to my fiancé.”

The line grows quiet, and Chris can’t help but imagine the look that passes over the three of you.

“Former fiancé,” Isaac adds, a cool edge to his voice, as Kara reluctantly hands you the phone.

“Why are you with them?” Chris’s voice is quieter now, rawer, the reality of it all begins to settle in.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

Another scoff. Chris’s anger surges, bubbling up and threatening to spill over. “Of course it’s my business. You’re my f—” They stop themselves, letting the word die on their tongue.

A heavy sigh escapes them as they lean back against the couch. “You’re my ex-fiancé. Do you realize how this looks? Fucking my little sister and her friend. After everything, this is how you repay me?”

“This has nothing to do with you. Who I’m with is none of your concern, Chris. Kara might be your sister, but you don’t own her, or me, for that matter.” Your words are sharp, almost like a smack to the face.

Chris’s fingers twitch, plucking at the photo until the three of you are separated—tearing you apart. “And Isaac, what? You just had to bring the trash with you, Kara? It’s not bad enough you’re sharing a bed with my ex, but now you’ve got your friend, too?” Isaac was never good enough to be friends with Kara. Especially once Chris had their background looked into. No, they don’t deserve Kara and they deserve you even less.

“Stop it, Chris.”

Despite the tightness in her chest, the guilt she carries, Kara can’t bring herself to yell. Not yet. “Don’t talk about them, about us, like you know what’s going on. You don’t know anything about it. We’re happy. I’m happy.” Her voice cracks, and for a moment Chris feels a feeling in their gut. One they’re afraid to give a name, because why should Chris Clarke feel guilty? “Isn’t that enough?”

It should be. Chris knows that deep down, under all the anger, the pain, and the jealousy, they should be happy for Kara. She found people who love her. But that gnawing feeling inside them won’t let go. The more they try to bury it, the more it consumes them. They can’t shake the feeling that you’re slipping further away—both of you.

For a long moment, they just sit there, lost in their thoughts. Kara hangs up the phone, but it doesn't stop the storm inside them from raging. Their words tumble out, raw and desperate. “You deserve better than that. Better than them. Aren’t I enough?” They know who the questions are for, and the thought alone sickens them.

#love and leases #loveandleases #chris #jade #think i just missed angst honestly

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aroace-madness · 2 days ago

Text

So i had a convo on divine discord (mostly with @toobytoobs) and I decided to make it into a post

Here are some pictures for context on how it because ya'll are gonna need it

Then there is some more stuff about the Leauge worrying about Billy and then there is a mention of Freddy storming into the Watchtower and berating the league for breaking Billys arm

And that's how we got here

Freddy: how DARE you, brake my baby brothers arm

Clark: wait, you're Captains older brother? Does that mean that the Wizard created you before him?

Freddy "ready to stir shit up" Freeman: huh? Oh yeah but I was sort of a failed experiment because of my bad leg

Bruce: experiment?

Freddy: yeah, now tell me how did you find out about the wizard

Diana: we got Captian drunk and he just started babbling about everything

Freddy: excuse you got him drunk? Sigh ok i'm kinda angry since he's my responsibility, it doesn't matter that i'm only a few months older than him

Barry: you're older only by a few months?

Freddy: yeah I am, is it really that surprising? I watched that giant grow up from the beggining and let me tell you he was hopeless couldn't even walk properly, even I walked better than him and my leg is bummed

Bruce: hm, really?

Freddy: yup, the first year was rather rough since I had to teach him everything because that stupid wizard decided to die before he could do anything

The JL: mild concern

Freddy: he also had the audacity to die right in front of Billy

J'onn: Billy?

Freddy: oh yeah, we didn't really have names for a long time at first, when we met some humans for the first time we decided to give ourselves a name, he chose William

The leauge is very concerned about the no name thing, what kind of parent doesn't name their children

Freddy mentions their sister and how she got kidnapped which made the leauge belive that the wizard did not care about her and just wanted a champion, hence why he made Freddy but he came out a "dud", and that's why Cap exists

Freddy completely forgot about what he did and is completely oblivious to what he caused

At some point Cap mentions the wizard in a present tense and confuses the JL

He explains that his ghost just hangs around the rock of eternity but is not helpful at all which makes the league want to punch the wizard even more

Captian says that he's just happy that he talks to him because he just ignores Freddys and Marys existance, that makes the leauge belive that he just ignored Freddys existance during the first few months of his life

At some point they start to belive that Mary wasn't ever kidnapped, just discarded to the side because the wizard believed she was defective

When the Leauge finally meets Mary they ask her about the Wizard, she has no idea who they're talking about

It leads them to believe that the wizard got rid of her before she even developed conciousenes

After they explain to her who they are talking about she finally gets it, she tells them how she doesn't really know him but Freddy seems to not like him

The leauge is seriously concerned for their friend and his siblings

Once they ask Captian if the wizard is his father (just to confirm some things) he answers no, that just because that man gave him his powers and brought meaning to his life doesn't mean that that's his father. They ask Freddy the same thing, he just looks at them with disgust, they ask Mary too, she looks at them like they're stupid

They really want to punch that wizard now because how much of a terrible father must you be that not a single one of your kids considers you their parent

This post doesn't do justice to the entire convo so to anyone who's on the divine discord I advise going to the writting channel and scrolling back a bit, there is a message connected to one of the first messages of this whole thing (and trust me there is a lot)

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helenanell · 3 days ago

Text

Shattering Still || Joel Miller

'I had been so ready to die, but Joel Miller stopped me.'

Joel Miller x OFC - (Although can be reader as there's no name or physical description, just an age: 40)

WC: 11K

Warnings: ANGST! Smut MDNI. Interrupted suicide attempt, suicidal thoughts, grief, loss of a child. (I'm so serious this is SAD) Joel is angry but well-meaning. Not quite enemies to lovers, but they have no idea what to make of each other.

AN: I never thought I'd write for Joel, but I've been obsessed with and inspired by @almostfoxglove - specifically 'Lock the Gate' which is amazing!

Read on AO3

:✮:·

Blood bloomed upon the snow.

One after the other, crimson drops fell to the ground. And fell and fell. The gash on my forehead had scabbed over the day before, but the tumble I'd taken down that slope an hour or so ago had ripped it right off. I could have stopped, wiped the blood from the side of my face and fashioned some kind of bandage. But there’d be no point.

My path stopped here.

The small clearing in the woods I’d stumbled into was beautiful in its barrenness. As good a place as any, I supposed.

My bruised and battered body screamed when I pressed my back against the nearest tree and dropped inelegantly to the earth. The snow cushioned the impact, but it began to seep into my jeans; dozens of frost-tipped pins pricking at my skin.

I sat there for a moment, transfixed by the indifferent incandescence of winter: so lethal yet so enrapturing. The snow that covered everything from the ground to the tree branches was a smothering weight and yet it glinted in the sun like diamond dust.

Blood from my head wound rolled down and got caught in my eyelashes. I blinked to get rid of it, but it only served to bathe that eye with a tinge of crimson. With an irritated huff I pulled off my glove and used it to wipe at my face. It was messy and sure to be smearing it about my skin, but in minutes that wouldn’t matter. I pulled the glove away and looked at it: stained red, some of it transferred onto my palm, but my eyes snagged on the dried, darkened blood beneath my fingernails that wasn’t mine.

It’s easy to tell yourself that killing in the interest of self-preservation is permissible. Or, at least, that it should not burden you: the snuffing out of a life. I’d always liked the idea of that: snuffing out. To extinguish a flame. It felt fitting when applied to people, seeing as we're all just stardust; detritus from a dead thing that burned in the sky.

We wink out just like stars. What human beings had used to navigate upon land and sea for millenia, were just dead things. We found our way thanks to bodies burning in the darkness.

I’d left behind enough bodies to form whole new constellations. There wasn’t one of them that I regretted.

I’d had someone to protect. Someone worth saving. And I had. Over and over again I had saved that little boy. But none of that had accumulated into some lasting cosmic protection, or formed armour over his skin. None of it had stopped him from dying.

I’d saved him, until I hadn’t. Until I’d watched him die. Let him die.

He’d always been small for his age, but his hands had felt smaller still in my own bloodstained ones, his unblemished skin swallowed up by the crimson smeared on me.

My nephew had been born into grief. He’d been placed, red-faced and squalling, into my arms instead of my sister’s. In the moment, I hadn’t been able to look at him, a led-weight in my arms, screaming for breath as my sister drifted away.

Too much blood.

I’d known it, but I'd still stood there, my sister’s baby in my arms as I screamed at someone- everyone to save her. I’d screamed at the fucking world.

Someone must have taken him from my arms then. I don’t remember it happening, only that my memories then skip like a scratched record to me kneeling at my sister’s side and squeezing her hand. She’d been so exhausted that her head hadn't so much as turned to me, rather it had lolled to the side. Her gaze had been distant and untethered as though she couldn’t see exactly where I was, only knew I was there because of her hand in mine.

“You have to protect him.” She’d begged, her voice hoarse, tears trailing down her face. “He’s yours- your family. Promise me.”

I’m no longer sure if I said it back before her eyes drifted closed. I used to be ardent in the belief that I had, but over the years I started to think maybe her eyes had already been shut when I’d finally said it. Maybe I’d still been kneeling by her side, her hand cooling on my own and the sun set behind me when I let out a sob and said: ‘I promise.’

I had named him. Sophie had told me that she wouldn't feel right to give him one without having met him first. She'd wanted it to suit him. So, I'd looked at him and done my best. Fred, after our grandfather, because I hoped he’d be just as kind as him. I hoped that I was capable of raising him to be kind.

I’d raised him to die.

Perhaps it was my punishment to outlive them. To live long enough that I started to forget. Already my sister’s face had started to blur, the tides of time wearing down her features. Like waves against a rock face.

Everything is always crumbling to pieces. Life is a perpetually disintegrating thing.

It was time for me to disintegrate, to let death wash over me like a wave over a sand castle. When it receded, the thousands of pieces of me would be dragged back into the deep, with no evidence left on the shore that I had existed at all.

I could have just laid down in the snow and shut my eyes, let the cold subsume me, purify me in a wash of white. Drift off in a snow drift. It even sounded nice.

Just like falling asleep. Isn’t that how hypothermia was meant to end. Peacefully?

As tempting as it was, I knew that I couldn't do that. I didn’t deserve an end so… quiet . Not when all those I'd loved had died in such pain and so afraid. The people I had known who were the least deserving of suffering.

The least I could do for them was pull the trigger on myself.

With my body now quaking with the cold, assailed by the dampness soaked into my clothes, I pulled the gun out of the waistband of my jeans. I let out a breath, watched it appear and then disappear in the air before me. Like human lives: blink and you’ll miss them.

I pressed the barrel to my temple, the metal so cold it was a biting kiss.

I shut my eyes. My finger fell upon the trigger.

Snap! A branch broke close by.

It’s funny how even when humans are ready to die, our bodies can still react to imminent danger. Fight. Flight. Freeze. I’d always favoured the first.

My eyes flew open, the gun fell from my temple as I swung it out and pointed it at the figure that had emerged through the trees. No- figures . There were two of them.

Two men moved towards me, similar in aspect but with markedly different expressions.

The one that stepped through the trees first, dressed in a thick tan coat had his gloved hands closed around a rifle that was pointed right at me. He had dark, distrusting eyes that were narrowed into a scowl. His hair was snow-dusted and shot-through with grey.

“Put it down.” He snapped, voice forceful but calm. Texan, if I had to guess. He nodded at the gun in my hand as if I couldn’t have put two and two together.

I didn’t obey him, at least not right away. I watched him watching me and thought about letting him put a bullet between my eyes.

It could be my coward’s way out. If I kept the gun in my hand for even a few seconds more, he would fire his. I could see the promise of it in his eyes. He could finish the job for me. But Sophie and Fred deserved more. I couldn’t be a coward for their sake. I had to be the one to end myself, not a stranger.

I uncurled my rapidly freezing fingers and dropped the gun. The impact sent up a small dusting of snow.

The man grunted disapprovingly, his eyes never leaving mine. “Throw it out of reach.”

“I’d rather not.” My voice was hoarse from dehydration and my throat was still shredded from all of the screaming I'd done when Fred…

I was going to need the gun once the two men had left and I really didn’t want to have to get up again. I wasn’t really sure I could.

The man was having none of it. His face tightened with anger.

“Wasn’t a request.” He snarled. “Now do it.”

I couldn't help the scoff that bubbled up. He had just come across me about to shoot myself, the precaution felt unnecessary. Then again, being distrusting had probably allowed him to live long enough to get the grey in his hair.

At last, the other man stepped forward. He was younger, his hair still mostly dark, but there was a kinship in their features. His deep brown eyes looked me over, not unkindly, before settling on his companion.

“Joel.” He said pointedly. I didn’t need to know him to discern what he left unsaid.

It’s not us that she’s a danger to.

Then, his eyes slid over to the object clasped in the other hand. Pressed against my chest was Fred’s teddy bear, it’s fur matted with blood. I’d been carrying it for my entire journey and ice crystals had formed upon it. The teddy was the only thing I’d brought with me besides the gun: I had no need for anything else l where I was going.

Joel’s gaze followed the other man’s and for a moment, he went utterly still. Only for a moment though, because it wasn’t long before his eyes snapped back to my own and he repeated his order:

“Throw the gun out of reach.”

With an exhausted sigh I did as I was told. The moment the thump of the gun landed, the other man moved forward and pushed down the barrel of Joel’s gun so it pointed at the ground.

“Sorry about my brother.” He said, shooting the brooding man a reproachful look before looking to me. His smile was tentative. “I’m Tommy and this is Joel.

I nodded stiffly, not in the mood for greetings. I just wanted them gone. And yet, when I spoke it wasn’t to tell them to fuck off and let me die.

“You’re from Jackson.” I said.

It wasn’t a hard leap, we couldn’t be more than an hour outside of it.

“That a question?” Joel spat.

I didn’t acknowledge the walking stormcloud and instead kept my attention on his brother. It wasn’t that I was deluded enough to think he was in any way kinder, the way he stood told me enough: just as willing to shoot me if I looked at them the wrong way.

“Yes, we are.” Tommy confirmed. His brother’s head whipped around, but he was unbothered by the glare he received.

“We were heading there.” I uttered mournfully.

We . I must have been more delirious than I realised.

Thankfully, neither of the men pressed me on my blunder. I suppose the way they had found me and the blood-stained bear in my hand made the absence at my side clear enough.

“We’re on our way back.” Tommy said. “You could come with us.”

“Tommy!” Joel closed the gap between himself and his brother, grabbing his arm and jostling him.

Honestly, I was also a little startled. It took the exchange of a couple of sentences for him to extend such an offer?

Tommy shrugged off Joel’s grip. “That’s not your decision to make big brother.”

“Tommy, look at her! With all the shit she’s covered in, she could be bit and we wouldn’t see it. You want to drag an infected into Jackson?”

“Not infected.” I sniped back, not really knowing why I bothered.

Something about his contempt stoked the dying fire within me. There was no need to be a bastard about the woman you’d just stopped from blowing her brains out.

Joel’s eyes returned to me, sharpened with a new edge. “If you’re not bit, then why were you–”

His speech stopped abruptly, his mouth clamped shut before the rest of his sentence could tumble out. I could make an educated guess at what it would have been: Why were you about to kill yourself?’

“That’s hardly the only reason for it.” I grumbled, answering his incomplete query. “Now, seeing as you made me get rid of it, I'd appreciate it if you could pass me my gun before you go.”

Whatever wary confusion had possessed Joel to even start to enquire about my motives disappeared and his scowl returned.

“Get it yourself.” He barked. His hand shot out and he grabbed his brother’s arm again, tugging him back. “Tommy, time to go.”

With that Joel turned away, already marching through the trees. I entertained the thought that if he found anything in his path, instead of going around he’d just walk straight through it. He seemed the type: stubborn to a fault. Stubborn to the point of pain.

Tommy, as if repelled from his brother like a magnet, moved in the opposite direction and right towards me. His heavy boots crunched on the snow. As he came to a stop, he slung his rifle over his shoulder.

He opened his mouth, then closed it, clearly trying to find the right words. “Look- whatever you were about to do…I know that ‘aint any of my business.”

“Tommy!” Wherever Joel was, his brother’s body blocked my view, but I could feel the glare passing through his brother and into me like a laser beam.

Tommy ignored him and moved closer, then dropped to a knee in front of me.

“Our lives are all we’ve got a right to anymore, so yours is to do with what you will. But, that’s not a decision to be made lightly and you look like you’ve been through it. How about you come back with us, stay for the night, have a hot meal at least?”

I narrowed my eyes in suspicion. He had no reason to offer me this, to try and coax me to Jackson at all. At least, no good reason. No one made altruistic offers, not anymore.

Then again, I could guess that this man had taken his fair share of lives. Maybe he’d changed, or was changing and thought that stopping a stranger from dying would do a little to balance his scales.

I could understand that urge. I’d thought Fred could redeem me. Make me nurturing when I’d never had the inclination. Kids will do that to you. Make you want to be better than you had ever considered possible.

I’d tried my best. I really had. But I’d never escaped the feeling of being a poor substitute for my sister; my care and compassion so pitiful compared to what she could give. I’d never had a deep well in that regard.

I suppose I wouldn’t have known until Fred was older if he’d truly felt loved by me. Sure, he’d told me he did, but he was a little boy and I was all he had.

It had been a selfish, self-indulgent fear of mine that he’d grow up, meet other people, perhaps see other families and realise how poorly I measured up; that he’d been deprived by me. How desperately I wanted to return to those anxieties that had felt so crippling at the time. Fear meant he was alive.

Now there was just…nothing. I served no purpose. There was no point to anything at all.

But I also had no fight left to give and I had a feeling that despite what he said, Tommy wasn’t going to let me refuse him so easily. I also doubted that he’d retrieve my gun for me: passing me the weapon that I would use to end it all might feel too much like culpability for a man who seemed to have a conscience.

So, I gave in. I granted a stay of my own execution and nodded.

Tommy smiled warmly as he stood up. “Come on, we got our horses tied up nearby. You can ride with me.” He leant down and offered me a hand, easily hauling me to my feet.

Weak and exhausted, I staggered to the side, but Tommy’s hold stopped me from falling. The wind blew, drying the blood that had slowed to a trickle on the side of my face.

“Woah, easy.” He said, looping one hand through my arm to anchor me to him. “You good?”

“Fine.” My breathlessness betrayed me.

“We gotta worry about anyone coming after you? Your blood’ll be like a trail of breadcrumbs in the snow.” Tommy guided me to turn around and we walked towards the treeline. Joel was waiting there, his gun still gripped tightly as he watched his brother and I advance.

“No one’s following me.” I assured him, fighting against the images that flashed behind my eyes. Bullets fired in my mind and then ricocheted off the inside of my skull.

“You sound very sure.” Joel said flatly as Tommy led me past him, he fell into step behind us. It was like having a dog snapping at my heels.

I bristled at the hostility in his voice, it was a challenge that I usually would never have been able to resist but there was no point in fighting him.

“They’re dead.” I answered bluntly.

I’d killed every last one of them.

Their blood had mingled with Freddie’s on my hands. It had felt like a desecration but it hadn’t stopped me.

Both brother’s made no further comment. When Tommy told his brother to fetch my gun, I was surprised that he complied without verbalising any objection. Although he didn’t give it back to me, just tucked it into the back of his jeans.

We remained silent after that, right up until we reached their horses. I joined Tommy on his, his, his brother striking out in front and brooding on his own mount.

When the wall’s of Jackson came into view I failed to fight back tears. I’d been so close to getting Fred to safety.

So close.

:✮:·

Once I had the two jagged edges of the gash on my forehead pressed together between my fingers, I gritted my teeth and pushed the needle through. The skin was already livid and raw, but a fresh drop of blood beaded there thanks to the pressure I was exerting. As I made the first stitch, I caught the sympathetic wince of the woman behind me in the mirror’s reflection.

“Not good with needles?” I asked, already back to sealing myself shut. It was another pointless endeavour, like glueing a shattered teacup back together while knowing that I was only going to drop it again, but acquiescing to it had seemed to appease Tommy. He’d also assured me that his wife wouldn’t hear of it being left unattended.

That had proved true enough when Maria had arrived at Jackson’s infirmary. Tommy had sent someone to pass along word of the stray he’d brought home.

Maria had looked me over with guarded concern, assuring me that I was welcome, while making it very clear that stepping out of line would be met with swift consequences. I admired her sternness: it was so clearly rooted in the desire to preserve the remarkable place that had been built.

I wasn’t entirely convinced that I hadn’t passed out in the snow back and was just imagining all of it.

Jackson felt like a dream that only my dying mind would have the luxury of conjuring up. I’d walked through the streets with Tommy and seen…normalcy. A sort of mundanity that had become a fanciful thing in my mind.

“Not good at watching someone stitch themself up, I guess.” Maria answered. She shifted so that she was leaning back against the wall, one hand cradling her belly. She couldn't have been far off her due date.

“I’ve never had anyone to do it for me.” I admitted, piercing my skin again.

I’d had to fight them to be able to tend to myself. Maria had insisted they had someone who knew what they were doing, but I couldn’t stand the idea of it: a stranger leaning over me, breathing on me for an extended period of time. Too close. Too prolonged. Just the thought made my gut twist.

It was best that I did it myself.

“It’s hard to accept help, at first. But you’ll adjust.” Maria’s tone was soft yet knowing.

I focused intently on the movements of the needle, forcing down a scoff at her words.

“Trusting people to have good intentions is asking for trouble.”

Maria nodded. “Out there, sure. But there are good people here. Families just trying to make it through.”

My grief was as volatile and shifting as the sea and I found myself biting back a nasty retort about it being pretty damn easy for the people here to make it through, safe behind high walls with their children, while somewhere else another mother lost hers.

The people of Jackson weren’t surviving, they were living . That was a luxury. And while it was a beautiful thing, practically incomprehensible given the state of the world, it shone too brightly for me to stand. I found it blinding. I wanted to throw dirt on it, smear it with filth to cover the shine.

When you’ve lived so long by crawling through the dirt, the sight of cleanliness is disconcerting. Almost uncanny.

As I came to the last stitch, my open wound now a raised edge, puckered and tied together with thread, I let myself meet Maria’s eye through the mirror.

“Look, I do appreciate the welcome, but there’s no need to go to any trouble.”

Maria waved my words away. “We’ve got enough empty houses to go around.”

Houses.

Not a room in an abandoned building where i’d have to barricade the door, or a tent that never felt remotely safe enough to get any sleep in. Or out in the open, beneath the stars.

Wherever Fred and I had found ourselves, I had never slept. I always ended up just watching him, his little chest rising and falling beneath his sleeping bag.

Oblivious to my wandering mind, Maria continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, we do have a process. The council–democratically elected–would want to talk to you if you decided to stay with us. You got any skills?”

“Define skills.” I said, as I tied off the thread and reached for the scissors that gleamed in the metal tray by my hand.

“Hunting. Shooting. Would be nice to have another person with a green thumb.”

put down the scissors and turned to face Maria. I leant back against the table, crossing my arms over my chest. It had long been my instinct to take a defensive stance.

“I can hunt.” I told her. “I can make traps and snares and I’m good with a gun.” I didn’t know why I was entertaining Maria’s inquiries, but acting as if I was someone intent on surviving seemed like it would lead to less resistance.

The last thing I wanted to do was solicit questions about what had happened to me. To Fred. Questions about why her husband and brother-in-law had found me alone in the woods, clutching a bloody teddy bear and readying to shoot myself. Tommy must have told her.

Before he had excused himself, husband and wife had ducked out into the hallway to talk and while Maria hadn’t treated me like a broken thing once she’d returned, there was something in her eyes that amounted to understanding.

“How good with a gun?” Maria asked, appraising me inquisitively.

“Very good.” I admitted matter-of-factly. “Our dad was a marine. Taught us to shoot long before the world went to shit.”

“Us?” Maria pressed tentatively.

Shit.

A decade after my sister died and I still thought in terms of ‘us’ and ‘we’. Ours.

“My sister.” I offered, hoping my bluntness would crush the topic of conversation before it could grow. Thankfully, it did.

We fell into a brief silence that bordered on comfort before Maria pushed off the wall.

I tensed instinctively at the movement, my hand itching to reach for the gun that Joel hadn’t returned. I’d need to ask Tommy about that.

Maria woman clearly noted my reaction, but carried on as normal.

“So…” She began with a smile. “Have I convinced you to stay? For the night, at least?”

“That’s what your silence was: you convincing me?”

“With some people, words hurt more than they hinder.” Maria said simply. “It has to be up to you. So?”

“Okay.” I said slowly. “One night.”

Maria had started moving towards the door before I'd finished my sentence. “Great! Let’s get you home. I’ll find you some clean clothes too.”

As Maria walked out, beckoning me to follow, I released a long sigh. I didn’t like the sound of that: your home. It had the distinct whiff of someone who wasn’t done trying to convince me, in silence or otherwise.

If only the Miller brother’s had arrived in the clearing just ten seconds later. I’d already be far from there, far from myself and all that I had done. And all that I had failed to do.

:✮:·

Something about the house I was given broke through my numbness to inject a dose of sadness. It was small. Just one floor. But it held vestiges of the life that had been lived so long ago.

Lines were etched into the wooden door frame that led into the kitchen, marking the growth of ‘Katie’ . She’d reached the height of my belly button before any chance of a normal future had been snatched away from her. Maybe she was alive somewhere, now an adult taller than me, but hope was just self-deception. It made reality more bearable.

Then there were the cupboards that were full of mug’s, many of them chipped. One had ‘ World’s Best Mom!’ stamped across it.

Everything was covered in dust that had gathered since the last occupants had fled, only to be kicked up by my footsteps. It felt a bit like disturbing a tomb. Except there were no bodies, just an absence. But that’s what death was: an absence in the existence of those left behind.

Maria had showed me to the house and then promptly left me to my solitude.

I attempted to settle down in the bed, curling up with the patchwork blanket I'd been given, but the softness of it was unpleasant.

I’d gone too long moving from place to place with Fred and when there had been a bed–and there was usually only one–I had let him take it and slept on the floor, or in a chair. Sometimes, I sat with my back against the door all night.

Then there had been all of the camping we had done. It had felt strange calling it that, as if it had been a recreational activity rather than a necessity, but framing it that way had made it seem more like an adventure for my nephew.

All of which was to say, I lasted a pitiful amount of time in the bed before I was gathering up the blanket and the pillow and traipsing into the living room at the front of the house and settling down on the floorboards between the couch and the coffee table.

There were bay windows that looked out onto the street, but there were no curtains or blinds to close for any semblance of privacy. No matter, it meant I could see the stars.

I laid down, bathed in a moonbeam that streamed inside, but made no attempt to shut my eyes. I just stayed there and stared up at the damp stain on the ceiling. Once clouds crossed the moon and the room darkened, the stain became a pool of blood in my eyes, spreading and spreading and spreading.

:✮:·

Tommy had returned my gun to me on the morning of my first day in Jackson. And yet, three sunrises later, I was still alive and kicking. Well, not kicking, but I was breathing.

I hadn’t had a change of heart where the wastefulness of my life was concerned, I just…hadn’t ended it yet. I was just so fucking tired. Part of me had died back in that clearing I think, even though Joel and Tommy had stopped me pulling the trigger.

There were so many more kids in Jackson than I’d thought there’d be. I don’t know why it surprised me, but seeing all the chubby cheeks and gapped tooth smiles was salt in a gaping wound.

I couldn’t help but imagine Fred and his head of blonde curls amongst the little flock. I’d called him duckling for a long time, because when ruffled, his hair had looked like the fluffy down of a little bird.

He’d have been so happy in Jackson. Nervous, at first, because he had never grown up with kids his own age, but he’d have shaken the worry off in no time, buoyed by the prospect of friends.

We’d been so fucking close. So close to a type of happiness I’d thought died with the old world. Part of me hadn’t even believed that a place like Jackson could exist. A community where actual kindness could be found, polished to a shine; a point of pride instead of something people let gather dust in a dark corner of their mind.

It had been a dream. A wish that I'd made for the both of us, one that I’d repeated with every step that we had taken forward.

But it did it exist.

Just being there hurt .

And if there was one thing that was intrinsic to humans no matter what state civilization was in, it was that we’d hurt and be hurt. And pain led us to seeking out ways to numb it. It’s how we’d ended up with alcohol.

The Tipsy Bison was almost too close to the bar’s I had spent my early twenties in. All dark wood and dark walls, sticky booths and shitty lighting.

The back wall behind the bar was an explosion of discordant memorabilia, all fighting to catch your eye first: a shooting trophy, a tiny American flag, a clock with what looked like a submarine on it, a little anchor. Everywhere you looked something new.

With a heady buzz building behind my eyes, I looked up at the mirrors behind the bar, partially obscured by the empty bottles that cluttered up the shelf beneath it. There were fairy lights strung up on the ceiling and in the reflection, my blurred vision made them bleed into one pulsing, glowing mass.

I groaned and dropped my forehead down onto the bar, enjoying how cool the varnished wood felt. My stitched head wound stung at the impact, but I found a perverse thrill in it.

I thought if I stayed utterly still and tried my best to block out the noises of the other patrons, the headache might begin to abate. Then I would move, stumble back to the house I'd been given.

I thought my plan might just work, until someone gracelessly dragged out the empty stool beside me. It scraped against the floorboards and I felt the vibrations in my brain. I groaned as I sluggishly lifted my head to find the culprit.

The scar at Joel’s temple was the first thing my eyes fell upon. It was almost illuminated in the bar’s inconsistent lighting. His posture was rigid, making him seem somehow even more solid, like he weighed himself down to the extent that movement was a chore. A hulking immovable object.

“Quit it.” Joel groused. He didn’t so much as glance at me out of the corner of his eye, his attention reserved for the barman who’d already poured him a whisky.

I sat up a little straighter, narrowing my eyes at him. “What?”

“Quit fuckin’ staring.” He snapped in answer, still not deigning to meet my eye.

“Wasn’t staring.” I spat back.

“What would you call it, then?”

“Observing.”

Oh, and Joel really didn’t like that: the notion that I had been watching him actively. As if taking him in visually, learning even a little about him from it, was a kind of theft, a terrible, offensive transgression. He gripped his glass tighter, making the tips of his fingers turn white. He angled his head in my direction, not quite looking at me, but close enough.

“Nothing to observe.” He muttered resentfully.

It had been over a decade since I'd let myself get so drunk and it brought out an instinct to antagonise that I’d forgotten I possessed. I smiled nastily and leant a little closer to him.

“Are you under the impression that you’re invisible?”

“No.” He shot back. “Sure would be nice though.”

“Oh?”

“This conversation wouldn’t be happening.”

“You started it.”

Joel slammed his glass down into the bartop, some of the dark liquid spilled over onto his hand. “What are you, fuckin’ five years old?”

I didn’t answer. My heavy head became too much to bear so I dropped it back down into my folded arms. The energy the alcohol had given me was already spent.

As I expected, the silence suited Joel just fine and minutes passed without another peep. I started to entertain the thought that he’d never try to engage with me ever again but then…

“Do you not need to eat?”

I looked to look at him but didn’t lift my head up off my arms. “Feeling talkative now?”

Joel had gone back to looking at anywhere but me. He grunted in displeasure at my mockery but carried on. “Been five days, haven’t seen you in the mess hall once.”

Instead of answering him, I forced myself to sit up and called out to the bartender, pointing at my empty glass. But, when he approached, Joel’s hand reached out, enfolded the top of my glass and dragged it out of the man’s reach. And his generous pour.

“About time this one was cut off, Seth.”

I scowled and clumsily reached forward to snatch back the glass, but Joel just swept it up and away from me.

“You were happy to leave me to shoot myself in the woods, but you’ll stop me from drinking?” I seethed. I thought I had whispered, but the few heads that turned in our direction told me otherwise.

Joel tensed so severely I thought the glass might shatter in his grip. But after a second or two, he set down the empty vessel and retrieved his own drink and lifted it to his lips. He kept set his eyes forward and took an obnoxiously loud sip.

“Fine. Fucking asshole.” I mumbled as I slid off and snatched my coat off the back of the stool.

“What was that?” Joel asked sharply.

Emboldened by the alcohol and infuriated by him, I sidled right up beside him and leant onto the bar. My other hand fell on his arm and he actually flinched .

“I said, you’re a fucking asshole.” Before Joel could muster up much of a reaction, I pushed off the bar and sent a consternated Seth a weak smile. “Night.”

I lurched out into the street and had to steady myself against the wall, sucking in icy breaths that scratched their way down my throat like glass shards. Painful, but it helped me come back to myself enough to put one foot in front of the other and head for my house.

Shit.

My house.

It should have been ours: Mine and Fred’s. Our home.

Never just mine.

:✮:·

It turned out that getting blind drunk didn’t just impair your vision, but also created such a fog in your mind that you forgot a lot of things. In my case, what I failed to remember as I staggered up the cracked stone path towards the house, was Maria’s warning that the wooden steps of the porch had rotted.

I was not exactly light of step at the best of times, but in my inebriated state, my footfalls may well have been able to crack concrete. So, when I stomped up onto the porch, my right foot went clean through the top step.

My stomach dropped and bile rose as I lurched forward. I was just barely able to catch myself and avoid breaking my nose against the wooden planks. My palms were abraded against the unforgiving surface, my skin riddled with splinters in an instant. I could feel something digging into my ankle and suspected that if I wasn’t so numbed by the alcohol, that I’d be experiencing at least a little pain.

“Fuck.” I grunted as I dragged myself up, pulling my ankle free of the hole. Once most of my body was on stable ground, I flopped down onto my back.

I shut my eyes and willed the world to stop spinning. The wind blew, drawing my attention to the exposed skin between my pant leg and my boot, upon which I could feel the trickle of blood.

Out in the open air with the stars glittering above, although obscured from my sight, I found myself beginning to feel oddly soothed. It was more of a familiar sleeping arrangement than the bed in the house that I’d rejected.

Which was probably why my eyes drifted shut.

:✮:·

A sharp kick against my leg woke me up.

My eyes fluttered open, only to find a dark mass standing over me. After a few more blinks, the nebulous shape began to shift into something more recognisable. Wide chest and broad shoulders, atop which sat a distinctly displeased face.

I couldn’t actually see his expression all that well, but it wasn’t exactly a hard leap to make once I realised that it was Joel.

Now sleep-addled as well as drunk, I was unwilling to be the first to break the silence. He must have realised this, because he spoke first. It sounded like he was under significant duress:

“Your steps have rotted.”

“Thanks for the heads up.” I slurred.

Joel gave no answer, but dropped down onto a knee beside my prone body, emitting a small grunt when the bone cracked.

“Feeling your age?” I asked, a smile tugging at the corner of my mouth.

“Shut up.”

I was, quite frankly, far too drunk, exhausted and frozen stiff to find to rouse myself to tell Joel to fuck off. The frigid night air had frozen my reservoir of rage. For now.

Despite that, when I felt cold fingers push up the bottom of my pant leg to expose my sticky blood to the night air, I kicked out at his hand. When the sole of my heavy boot made contact with Joel’s hand, he pulled it back with a hiss. “Go away.” I ground out, focusing on the way the now exposed scratches on my ankle stung.

Boots scuffed against wood as Joel rose to his feet, face contorted with displeasure. Before I could let out the sigh of relief at his anticipated departure, he kicked the side of my leg again.

“Can’t stay out here. Get up.”

“I’ll get up when you're gone.”

“No. You’ll pass out and freeze to death.”

“Just fucking let me, then! I’m nothing to you.” I hurled back at him, wincing at the resultant pain in my head.

Daughter, sister, aunt. Through every stage of my life, I had understood myself and my purpose through those titles. But now…I wasn’t anything to anyone. Just nothing .

The silence was drawn out just long enough, I thought he might have left and I was just so delirious I hadn’t heard his footsteps. But the next thing I knew a hand curled around my arm and I was hauled to my feet.

I wanted to curse him, to spit and claw at him, to turn my pain against someone other than myself and draw blood. Before Fred had died that’s what I would have done. But whatever the husk of who I was had left within it, it wasn’t the quickness to violence.

So, I let Joel drag me like a dog on a leash. He was rough. His fingers dug into my arm and he let me stumble over my own feet. He threw open the front door and stormed in, moving far too quickly for my drunken body to coordinate with. As we crossed over the threshold into the house, I tripped and would have ended up on the ground again if he hadn't pulled me to his side. He smelled of whisky and woodsmoke.

We moved down the hall at a jarring pace. It felt as though I was a piece of obsolete equipment that he was hauling around, and therefore he was uncaring about jostling me to the point that a screw or two came loose.

Thankfully, the little house didn’t give us much ground to cover before he was shoving me into the sitting room. When he came to an abrupt stop, I presumed that he was taking in the sight of my blanket and pillow on the floor, but when his hold on my arm eased up, I followed his gaze to the coffee table.

My gun sat atop the dusty surface and right next to it was Fred’s teddy bear, still stained even though I'd lost count of the number of times I'd scrubbed it. No industrial-strength stain remover at the end of the world.

I heard a short, sharp intake of breath and braced myself for a cutting remark, but instead he returned to his man-handling. Joel grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed me onto the couch. He then bent down, took hold of my calves and lifted them up, forcing me to twist around so that I was lying flat. When he pulled off my boots, I hissed at his unforgiving hold on my bleeding ankle.

He made no apology, just dropped my boot to the ground and proceeded to yank off the other one.

I laid still and stared up at the ceiling, silently begging that he’d leave without uttering another word. He stood at the end of the couch, watching me like I was a rat caught in a trap. His brown eyes were black in the darkness of the room.

“You got a bed. No good reason to be sleeping on the ground.”

Exhaustion had me back in its grip, so all I could manage as my eyes closed was a mumbled: “What would be a good reason?”

A disgruntled huff. “Don’t be a smartass.”

A heavy weight was tossed over me. I clawed at the fabric, pulling it down until my face was freed and sucked in a breath as if I'd actually been at risk of suffocating. He’d thrown the blanket over me.

My eyes darted around but only caught a glimpse of Joel’s back as he was stepping back into the hall. His footsteps receded and then there was the unnecessarily harsh opening and closing of the front door.

Had I been less intoxicated, the entire interaction would have likely been confounding, but in the state I was in I just sank down into the couch cushions and shut my eyes and thanks to the alcohol, fell right to sleep.

My wakeup call was the sun that speared through the window and landed in my eyes. It split my throbbing head in half like a block of wood. My mouth was like sandpaper and something throbbed angrily behind my eyes. A hangover at forty was a different beast altogether.

I’m not sure how long I stayed inert and wallowed in my self-inflicted sickness, but eventually I did find it in myself to sit up, I swung my legs off the couch and edged forward and as I did so, my eyes fell onto the coffee table.

Fred’s teddy bear was right where i’d left it, but my gun was missing.

:✮:·

Thanks to the tour Maria had given me, during which she’d pointed out her and Tommy’s home as well as ‘Joel and Ellie’s across the way’, tracking down the thief didn’t take long.

My knuckles rapped viciously against his door, exacerbating the symptoms of my hangover and my anger all at once.

Just as I started to contemplate kicking it in, the front door swung inward and Joel filled the gap. It was obscenely early and yet he was already dressed in jeans, another plaid shirt with its sleeves rolled half-way up his forearms. I knew I was a ghastly sight and his displeasure was evident, but I gave him no chance to express that verbally.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?”

“Watch your fuckin’ mouth when you’re at my goddamn door.” He bit back.

“Give it back.” I held out my hand, matching his hateful stare.

Joel didn’t try to deny it, he didn’t even blink before he turned around and stomped down his hallway. I waited at the threshold, unwilling to enter his space.

Joel returned with the gun already held out, but when I reached for it, he pulled it back and left my fingers to clutch at the air.

“Don’t be a fucking child.” When I lunged for the gun that now hung in the hand at his side, he enclosed his other one around my wrist.

“You plannin’ on using it?” His voice was strained, as if pressure was being exerted on his neck.

“No.” I sneered sarcastically. “I just think it makes a nice table decoration.”

Joel’s hold tightened and the pads of his fingers pressed into my pulse point. The touch lingered long enough that it felt like he was tracking my heartbeat, but he soon let go.

He did let me take back the gun then, but when I put my back to him he asked:

“Why bother?”

“What?” I wouldn’t turn back to speak to him. I didn’t know what expression he’d end up finding on my face.

Wooden floorboards creaked beneath him as he shifted in place. “Killing yourself here or out there- it makes no difference. Why come with us when Tommy asked? Just means someone has to clean up after you.”

I wanted to see it. I thought. It came to me only then, having not really considered it before that moment. I wanted to see the place that could have become home if both Fred and I had made it.

I shook my head and continued on.

Joel’s voice stopped me again. I hated that it stopped me. Why didn’t I just keep walking?

“If you were sure, you would’ve done it already. You wouldn’t have walked with your head streamin’ blood for as long as you did before sitting down by that tree.”

I looked back at him over my shoulder. “I’m not dragging it out because I want to live, Joel. I just haven’t decided what the actual punishment is: life or death.”

“Punishment for what?”

“He died.” I didn’t offer Joel more than that and left him standing in his doorway.

:✮:·

In the two weeks that I had been in Jackson, I’d spent more time on the floor of my living room than anywhere else. My body protested in its stiffness, almost threatening to atrophy, but I could conjure no will to stop it.

I had no will to do anything at all.

So, it was night and I was yet again, flat against the floorboards, staring up at the stain on the ceiling.

I hadn’t shut the door properly on my way in, something which was signalled to me by the noise coming from the hallway. The wind blustered through the gap, taking every opportunity to rush inside and whisper to me.

The door would hit against the jamb and then creak open. Shut. Then open again.

I had realised almost as soon as I’d laid down, but found myself unable to get up again to close it. So the cold invaded, a pervasive chill that had settled over everything, pricking the skin on my arms on the way down to my bones, attempting to freeze them too.

It didn’t help that I’d just dropped down on top of the blanket instead of crawling under it, leaving myself protected by only sweatpants and a ratty old t-shirt.

The noise of the door didn’t bother me. It had a sort of soothing rhythm. Open, shut. Open, shut. The wind whispered through a wooden mouthpiece.

Just out of curiosity, I'd put my fingers against my wrist: the noise was almost in time with my heartbeat.

Outside, the dark clouds which had spent all day swelling to an ominous, bruised bloat had finally burst. Rain lashed against the windows as though it endeavoured to break the glass.

With my fingers still on my wrist, I felt my pulse jump as my front door slammed shut. I waited, but it didn’t creak open again. The wind’s whisper had been quieted.

I don’t quite know how I didn’t hear the approaching footsteps. I must have been more out of it than I’d thought.

“Catchin’ your death from the cold is slower than a bullet.”

I wasn’t startled by the sound of Joel’s voice. I wasn’t angry or even confused. It was more of a disquiet, that the noise of the wind and the door that I had used to ground me for the last hour or so had stopped so abruptly.

The feel of my pulse became an unwelcome sensation. I pulled my fingers away from my wrist.

I didn’t sit up. Couldn’t yet. It felt like there was a physical weight on my chest: grief sitting there, spiteful and malignant but unseen. Maybe I’d spent so long on the floor I’d fused to it.

Joel moved closer and that time, I heard his footsteps.

“You left your door open.” He said.

He’d stopped right by my feet. I could feel the scuffed soles of his boots brush against my socks. There was something about his presence that prompted a slight buzzing behind my eyes.

“I noticed.” I answered.

“Where’s the gun?”

I didn’t baulk at the question, or feel a familiar flare of irritation, I simply reached back, my hand questing beneath the pillow where it wrapped around the grip. I pulled the weapon free and held it up.

“Why is it under your pillow?”

If I had known Joel better- or just known him at all, I might have been able to tell what exactly the tone of his voice signified.

“I want it close, in case of intruders.” I said glibly.

I lifted my head just enough to make out the shape of Joel, a dark, unmoving mass and shifted my hold so the barrel was directed at him.

“Don’t point that fucking thing at me!” He snarled, his boots knocking against my feet as he lurched forward. “Put it down. Now.”

I was thrown into the memory of the day we’d met in that clearing, when he’d barked the same order with a rifle pointed at my head.

I let my arm drop and the gun clattered onto the floorboards.

He might have mumbled something under his breath then, but I couldn’t make it out. The buzzing was intensifying.

Joel moved forward and soon his large form filled the gap between my body and the couch. He crouched down, his knee brushing against my thigh. He picked up the gun and tossed it onto the couch.

“Still sleeping on the floor.”

My head rolled to the side and I found his eyes in the dark. Outside, the wind howled, the rain like stones thrown against the windows.

“I don’t really sleep.” I told him. “Doesn’t matter where I am.”

“You don’t sleep.” He repeated my words in a tone that I was far too untethered to pin an emotion to. If there was any emotion in it all.

“Why are you here?” I asked, if only to fill the silence.

I missed the sound of the wind through the gap in the door, considered asking him to go back and open it again but then thought better of it.

“I was passin’ by.” He said.

I chose that moment to force myself to sit up. Being around another person coerced me into some kind of self-awareness and I realised I was in a vulnerable position: him looming over me.

Once I was upright, the details of Joel came into focus. He was soaked from the rain. His tan coat darkened by patches of moisture. A grey-flecked curl fell over his forehead. I was much closer to him when upright. Close enough that I felt the warmth coming off him, flooding the freezing room.

My skin began to prickle.

“Why were you passing?”

“Hmm?” Joel hummed, Then, still kneeling he shifted closer to me. The knuckles of the hand thar he used to hold himself up, ran along the outside of my leg.

“It’s late.” I said thickly. “Why were you wandering about in the rain?”

Joel huffed as his eyes dropped to the ground. Perhaps he’d only just realised he was touching me and decided to take a look. He didn’t move his hand away. “You about to give me a lecture?” He asked.

I shook my head. “No. Tell me.”

“Couldn’t sleep.” Is all he offered.

“You’re dripping onto my floors.” I said, drawing attention to the tell-tale noise that had been poking holes in the silence between our speech.

Joel’s thick brows rose, as if he was affronted. “Oh, they’re your floors? Thought you weren’t sticking around.”

The double meaning swelled in the air between us, taking up space. It stole our breath.

Was that what I’d been doing in Jackson the past two weeks? Just sticking around ?

Yes, I realised. It was exactly what I’d been doing.

I loitered in the land of the living when I knew full well that I didn’t belong anymore.

“My floors, for now.”

The hand against my leg lifted and then passed across my torso coming to settle on my side. With me now partially caged in, Joel leaned closer, which left our faces only a hands breadth apart.

The cold from his damp coat felt like it was seeping into me.

“For now.” Joel repeatedly tersely. His jaw tensed.

“Yes.”

Then his eyes flicked to the coffee table- to Fred’s blood-stained teddy bear.

“Your kid?” He asked upon a strained whisper.

Yes. No. My child and yet not.

My nephew. My reason for living. Mine.

Almost of its own will, my hand shot out and grabbed the collar of Joel’s coat. I held him so tightly I thought my knuckle bones might split my skin. The action inadvertently tugged him closer. His breath fanned out across my face.

“Don’t.” I warned him.

“Don’t what?” His voice had turned brittle, as if something within him was breaking. Perhaps it was his resolve.

“I can’t—” I spluttered out. “I'm not talking about that.”

About him.

Fred was still a part of me. Talking about him after his loss felt like surrendering further pieces of him; tearing of strips of my own skin, a slow flaying of flesh.

“Okay.”

“Don’t try to know me.”

Wanting to escape Joel’s unrelenting gaze, I stared at a bead of water that had fallen from his hair and rolled down his temple. I still had hold of his coat, the damp fabric bunched up between my freezing fingers.

“Who said that’s what I was doing?” Joel challenged, sounding almost insolent.

I made myself meet his eyes again. “Why are you here?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” He repeated, a stubborn set to his jaw. “Was walking.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“Your door was open.”

“You could have shut it and kept on going.”

“Should’ve.” He admitted gruffly.

My shoulders sagged and I shook my head, trying to dislodge his unwavering gaze. It didn’t work

“I don’t want to talk, Joel.” I told him tiredly.

“Don’t have to talk.”

We watched each other closely. Carefully.

“Okay.” I uttered.

My breathing faltered as Joel’s calloused hand curled around my wrist and tugged, encouraging me to release my hold on him. I did immediately. Then, his other hand landed on my back and he began to guide me down. It wasn’t gentle, but the force didn't feel like an imposition.

When the back of my head hit the pillow, he clambered over me. One knee rested on the ground beside my hip, while the other nudged my legs open.

Joel sat back on his knees, his dark pupils trained on me as he unzipped his coat. I watched as he shucked it off and then tossed it onto the couch, right on top of my gun. Then he began to unbutton the cuffs of his plaid shirt.

A sensation that I thought had been lost to me long ago returned; something deep within me coiling tight at the sight of him rolling his sleeves up his toned forearms.

Then he crowded over me. His hands planted themselves on either side of my head. Joel held himself there, our chests brushed against each other, no longer enough space between us for them to swell with full breaths.

There was something suffocating about having him so near. Perhaps that’s why I welcomed it when he pressed even closer.

It felt almost as if Joel tried to cover my body completely with his and absorb me into him. He ran his hand down the side of my face, thumb grazing my cheek before he tucked my hair behind my ear. Then he pressed his lips there to whisper:

“If you want me gone, say it.”

“If I don’t?” I asked breathlessly.

Joel’s breath was hot against the side of my face and it faltered ever so slightly before he spoke again.

“Got something that might help you sleep.”

We stayed like that as his statement dissipated in the air like smoke. Even when it went, the scent lingered: heady and overwhelming.

I lifted my hand tentatively and let it fall on the back of Joel’s neck when he didn’t flinch from it. I don’t know I’d expected him to. I ran my hand up and my fingers collected drops of water until they curled into the hair at the nape of his neck.

In answer, Joel ran his lips down the shell of my ear and then nipped the lobe with his teeth. My eyes fluttered shut at the slight sting.

Joel was solid, tangible enough that he grounded me. He was something that wasn’t going to slip through my fingers. And yet he was utterly detached from me, after this, he would drift away untethered.

I knew whatever happened between us would be fleeting; melt away with the sunrise like frost. I wanted it that way.

My hands fell away from the back of Joel’s neck as he pulled back. Not far, just enough so that he could grab the band of my sweatpants and tug them down, my underwear going with them. He reached the curve of my ass and lifted my hips so that he could pull the clothing free.

I shivered at the rush of the freezing air of my exposed flesh, but Joel was already crawling back on top of me, his warmth returning. I stared up at him as he took two of his own fingers into his mouth. He pulled them free and they glistened with his own spit. Moistness gathered between my thighs accompanied by an agonising throb.

Joel pressed his chest to mine, my hardened nipples pressing through my t-shirt and into his.

When his fingers ran through my folds, my head fell back. He wasted no time, pressing firmly on the way down before he pushed them inside of me. He held them there, no doubt feeling me pulsing around him.

His mouth fell against my neck, not kissing, but holding me flesh between his teeth as he began to pump his fingers. The movement was almost languid, his digits rippling inside of me.

My breath stuttered and my hands lifted, falling on either side of his neck just for something to hold onto.

Joel’s mouth closed into an almost kiss against my pulse point and the little hum he let out vibrated through me.

The tightness deep within me intensified, but just as I began to grow close, he pulled his fingers out of me, leaving an ache in his wake.

But then there was the clink of his belt buckle and his hands fumbled to pull it free. I moved to help him, my fingers brushing against his own that were slick with me.

He submitted to my help and his hands returned to either side of my head as I pulled the belt free of the loops and let it drop to the ground. I went to work on the fly of his jeans, now desperate and panting, but he would not abide my help in that endeavour.

He murmured disapproval and took hand into his and held it above my head. He did the same with the other one and cuffed both of my wrists together with just one of his hands. With the other he popped the button of his jeans and the undoing of the fly soon followed.

His fingers ran through the sensitive flesh between my legs and gathered up some of the slickness there. He kept his eyes on my face as he took himself in the same hand and spread my arousal over his hardness.

My t-shirt had been shucked up to reveal my belly. His eyes flicked to the ugly scar just above my pelvis only briefly.

When Joel lined himself up at my entrance, I let my eyes flutter closed. It had been so long, but I didn't care. I wanted him inside me, to feel him moving. To feel pleasure. Anything to keep the numbness at bay.

Joel pressed himself inside me with a hard thrust. A low groan came from his throat and the hand holding my wrists tightened.

Our hips aligned. And then he began to move, rolling into me, the force of the movements pushed me along the floor, rumpling the blanket beneath me.

When I lifted my feet and wrapped them around his hips, intent on driving him into me even harder, Joel groaned in pleasure. His head dropped low again and his lips skimmed over my temple, then brushed over the still healing gash on my forehead.

Pressure built within me as he pounded relentlessly. The sound of our fevered joining and ragged breathing blocked out everything else, even the wind and rain beyond the house. In that moment it didn't really feel like there was a beyond. Just him.

When I murmured his name, Joel released my wrists. My hands immediately ran up his neck and over the sides of his face. Right when I brushed past the scar on his temple, he pressed his lips against the wound on my forehead.

He thrust into me with such a bruising force that my pleasure burst, my release rolling through me in a violent shudder. I dug my nails into Joel’s hair and his thrusts became sloppier, slowing until he was just grinding his hips against mine.

His hands mirrored my own and he cradled my head, his forehead pressed to mine as he came inside of me.

We stayed like that, our sticky skin pressed close, until our breathing calmed.

Joel pulled out of me and then sat back on his haunches. I felt him looking at me so I shut my eyes again.

I don’t remember much after that before I drifted off.

:✮:·

When I woke up, I was alone. There was an ache between my legs, but it wasn’t painful. I was fully-clothed and tucked beneath the blanket. Almost warm.

But, while I was glad that Joel was nowhere to be found–it had felt like an unspoken agreement between us–something else was missing.

My gun was gone. Again.

Bastard.

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x oc #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #the last of us #joel miller smut #smut

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