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littlelou22 · 2 years ago

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you’re my sunshine | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: you and joel are polar opposites. you are sunshine while he is cloudy. but you’re his sunshine and he doesn’t quite know how to handle that.

warnings: insecure!joel, undefined age gap (reader is in 20s, joel is canon age), judgy ass jackson people

word count: 2.5k

divider credit: @saradika

requested: yes by the lovely and inspiring @pedgeitopascal 🫶🏻 find it here

a/n: second fic, lets gooooo. requests are open, so drop one if you would like (i'm still new at this so i may not do all of them, just trying to get back into writing first)

The people of Jackson were stumped by the three newcomers.

Well, more specifically, they were stumped by you.

They didn’t understand how someone like you came along with the man and the girl.

There was Ellie. Even though she is only fourteen, the girl was wise beyond her years. A young girl that possessed the vocabulary of a sailor. Rough around the edges. Strong willed, incredibly witty, and as sarcastic as one could possibly be.

There was Joel. A man hardened by the cards that life seemed to have dealt him, emotionally stunted, and just plain grumpy. Borderline rude to the members of the community, apart from his brother and sister in law. Over cautious of each and every person in the community.

And then there was you.

A woman who embodies the word sunshine. An optimist. The type to always lend a hand whenever needed. Smiles constantly adoring your face. You can find good in any situation, even during the apocalypse.

So it came as a surprise when the community found out that you were dating the grumpy old man.

If someone had asked when you and Joel had gotten together, you wouldn’t know what to tell them. You don’t know how or when it happened, it just was. It had always been.

The two of you met a few years prior. Tess insisted that they needed another partner, a younger woman to attract a different type of customer. At first, Joel didn’t care. If that’s what the girl would do, then that was that. But when Tess brought you home, it shifted for him. He couldn’t stand the thought of the men in the QZ doing business with someone as sweet as you. As pure as you.

So he looked out for you and in turn, you did the same. Quick hellos turned into small talk which turned into conversations. A pickup turned into a hangout which turned into you going to sleep in his bed every night. It just happened.

You were Joel’s and he was yours. It was simple.

Simple to you, at least. You loved him, it was obvious to anyone around you. You looked at him as if he was the center of the universe. You told him as much, as frequently as he would allow you to. It didn’t bother you too much that he never said it back. Regardless of the small and doubting voices in your head, you knew he felt the same.

Joel, even after years with you by your side, still didn’t quite understand how someone like you could be with someone like him. How someone like him could deserve to be with someone like you. After everything he had done before you, everything he had done to protect you.

But you were. And it isn’t that Joel is complaining, because he is not, he just doesn’t know what to do about it. How to act around you in public with the prying (and equally as confused as him) eyes.

Everywhere the two of you went, the eyes followed. The thoughts of the community consumed Joel’s mind. He knew what they thought of him, hell, what they thought about Ellie. And while he couldn’t stand how they viewed his surrogate daughter, he understood why they viewed him.

He wasn’t kind like you. He didn’t acclimate like how you did. He didn’t offer his skills to better the community. He avoided going to the movie nights unlike you, who embraced the chance to mingle with the community.

Joel didn’t miss the way the people would shy away from you whenever he would approach. How their conversation would abruptly end with a forced goodbye, as if Joel was an intruder to his own relationship.

As the time went by, Joel began to doubt himself. How could someone like you want to be with him? With a past like his? He wasn’t worthy of your attention. Of your time. Of your love.

Hell, Joel couldn’t even bring himself to tell you that he loved you. Even after all the years you’ve spent together. He did, he loved you more than he ever thought was possible after Sarah died. He just didn’t know how to tell you.

Joel wasn’t a man of words, he was a man of action. He showed you that he loved you. Whether it was fixing you your favorite tea in the morning or building bookshelves for the many books you’ve found on patrol, he showed his love through acts of service.

But he was beginning to doubt that it was enough for you.

It started at the Tipsy Bison. Joel had promised to help Tommy repair one of the decks to a house. You weren’t much help with a task like this, to your dismay, so you had wandered off to town with the promise of meeting the brothers when they had finished for the night.

Ellie opted to stay back at the house, feigning sickness. You could see right through her act but knew how the girl had been struggling since arriving in Jackson. How she had been struggling before the three of you even got here. So, in spite of Joel’s obvious displeasure, you granted her the solace that she was silently requesting.

You were sitting at the bar with a group of women, discussing the upcoming holiday and how the town would celebrate it, when the Miller brothers made their appearance in the establishment.

And while your smile grew at the sight of your man, the women around you seemed to tense. As Joel approached you, the conversation faded into quiet murmurs.

“Hi babe,” you greeted as he stopped in front of your stool. You watched as his cheeks flushed at the pet name, the smile you wore only growing. “You and Tommy finish the deck?”

“Not yet,” Joel responded, hand rubbing at the back of his neck. He nodded to the women surrounding you, only receiving a tight lipped smile back in response. “Got too dark and Maria needed him home.”

“The girls and I were just talking about how we could convince Tommy to dress up as Santa for the kids this year. Wouldn’t that be sweet?” You were excited about the idea, evident by the happiness lighting up your face.

“The sweetest,” Joel replied, shifting foot to foot under the watchful eyes of the women around you.

As you filled Joel in on the other plans for the upcoming celebration, the three other women that you had been planning with watched the interaction. It was almost comical to Joel – he was labeled as the rude one, yet these women were looking back and forth between the two of you with obvious confusion. Suspicion towards Joel. And, if Joel was reading it right, one of them was wearing a shade of disgust.

Joel knew he wasn’t the best type of person in the world but to be looked at with disgust seemed a bit too far for him.

“Joel?” Your voice startled him from his thoughts. You had slipped your coat on before beginning to rise from the barstool you had been perched upon. “You ready to get back home? I want to make sure Ellie is okay.”

With a smile and a wave, you bid the ladies a goodbye before turning to your boyfriend. You watched as he forced a nod at them before he began to make his way towards the exit. Falling into step with him, you slip your hand into his coat pocket, lacing your fingers along his with a squeeze. Eyes on his face as you watch him let out a shuddering breath, shoulders tensing even more than they usually were.

You may be an optimist that sees the best in not only every person that you encounter but in the world as well, even if it is a fucked up mess thanks to the cordyceps. You may be a cheerful person with a smile on your face more often than not, even in the face of danger. But you weren’t stupid.

And you certainly weren’t blind.

You saw how the people in Jackson treated Joel. How they looked down upon him. He may not be totally involved in the community, but he helped where he could and when he could. The people of this town operated on favors, but it was hard to fulfill one for someone when you were on patrol as much as Joel was.

Everyone took rotations, yourself included. But Joel took it a step further. Maybe it was his incessant need to protect Ellie and yourself, maybe it was his nature. Or maybe it was just what he thought he could best provide to the community for. Joel was outside the wall more than he was inside of it, patrolling new and old areas alike to ensure the community’s safety. Going on what seemed like endless supply runs to restock any medication, materials, and other things that anyone could potentially even need.

Not only did you see everything Joel did for the community, even if they couldn’t share that view, but you saw how Joel treated Ellie. How he treated you.

How he wasn’t good with words or how he didn’t know how to show affection. But you knew, regardless of if he put it into words, how much he loved his two girls.

You knew he loved the two of you through the surprises he would bring back from patrol for the two of you. Whether it was a book you had mentioned liking in your childhood or hunting down every last remaining can of Chef Boyardee for Ellie, he showed you. Whether it was the old guitar he had traded to get for Ellie on her birthday or the singular flower he would pick for you ‘just because’, he showed you.

But regardless of the bountiful thanks you both had given him, you can see the doubt pooling in his eyes. The disappointment eating away at him at the thought of not being able to give the two of you more. The constant guilt of his past actions. You knew what he thought of himself and you knew that he didn’t think he could ever deserve you.

You just didn’t share that opinion.

So when you hear the women you were previously conversing with snickering about your boyfriend as you walk towards the exit, something snapped within you.

Slipping your hand from his, you practically march your way back to the women, leaving a perplexed Joel behind, watching from the door of the restaurant. Watching as your hand smacks onto the bar top in front of them, leaning over to sneer at each of them. You didn’t get like this often, preferring kindness, but when you did, Joel couldn’t help but gawk at you.

“You may think you know him,” your voice is as cold as your glare. “But you couldn’t even begin to understand the type of person that Joel is. Might I remind you that none of you have been on the other side of that wall, so you truly have no idea what he does every damn day to make sure that you can sit here on your asses and gossip like small town bitches.”

The women before you go silent, jaws dropping at your words. They hadn’t expected someone like you to snap. But the people of Jackson, especially those that were not on patrol rotation, had no idea what it was like on the outside. You had to do what you had to do, regardless of your sunny disposition. Just because you were usually radiating positivity didn’t mean you wouldn’t bite back when necessary.

You take their lack of a response as an answer. “Next time you want to judge someone based on their first impression, maybe try to understand what they’ve been through to get to this point first. If you went through even a fraction of the shit that the three of us went through to get here, you’d actually think before you spoke.”

“That’s not what we meant–”

“Then what did you mean by the constant glares? The whispering when you think no one can hear you? Running away the second you see him?” You raise your eyebrows at them, challenging them to respond. “Please tell me what you meant, I’m sure you had a great reason.”

Their mouths opened and closed, searching for the words but found none. Still in shock over your outburst.

“That’s what I thought. Let’s keep this from happening again, yeah?” With that, you turn and head towards the door. As you pass Joel, you grab his hand and tug him outside. Once outside, you take a deep breath of fresh air, halting in your steps in effort to calm down your racing thoughts.

“W-What was that?” He asks, equally as stunned as the women that got told off by you.

You shrug. “I don’t like the way they talk about you. Or about Ellie.”

Joel shakes his head, crossing his arms over his chest as he stands in front of you. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to,” you answer simply. “I know how it affects you. How you think about yourself as is. They only make it worse and that’s not okay with me.”

“You can’t blame them,” Joel sighs, rubbing his gloved hand down his face. “They aren’t wrong.”

“They are wrong, baby,” you tug his hands from his face, replacing them with your own by cupping his cheeks. “You have no idea how far from the truth they are, how far you are.”

You thumb his cheeks, a small smile playing on your lips as you think about him. “I know you don’t view yourself in the brightest light, Joel, but you are everything to me. You and Ellie are the best things in my life, I wouldn’t trade the two of you for anything in the world. I would do anything, say anything to make sure that you know how much you mean to me.”

His eyes are glassy as his hands slowly make their way to your wrists, swallowing hard at your words. You know he struggles to hear it, to hear any sort of praise that would go against his thoughts.

“You’re a man of action, not a man of words,” you whisper. “Let me show you how much I love you.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes, you press your lips to his. Joel stiffens, not used to the public display of attention. You hold firm, sliding your hands off his cheeks to wrap around his neck in an effort to pull him closer to you. After a moment, you feel him relax, hands shifting to your hips as he molds his lips against yours.

The two of you stay entangled in each other for a few more moments, lips dancing with one other. With one last peck, Joel pulls back, eyes shining as he takes your swollen lips and flushed skin. He looks at you in wonder, thumb brushing against your bottom lip.

“I love you too,” Joel whispers. “My sunshine.”

And for the first time in a long time, the smile on your face is mirrored on his.

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #insecure joel #still getting used to it #joel the last of us #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #m writes

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hheaven-sentt · 2 months ago

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blood and bone I

summary: you understand blood and bones well enough, emotions are another thing entirely | leon kennedy x gn!reader

word count: 5k

warnings: gore, medical happenings (everyone say thank you google), Leon being confusing and standoffish, two idiots who don't know how relationships work, language, implied violence

notes: there will be more to this, but i didn't want to kill people with the nearly 10k words i've written so look out for that. also, in my brain, the dso and bsaa operate congruently so | ao3

blood and bone ml

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wonder where you would be if you hadn’t accepted that job. Maybe, if you’d kept your mouth shut, you wouldn’t be sitting in a briefing room. The slideshow Hunnigan prepared is about as engaging as a lullaby. You cut a glance at Leon. He’s staring at the slideshow, clearly very invested. Hunnigan looses a huff and shuts down the projector. The hum of it dissipates into the silent room.

��Have you even been listening to me?” she asks, leveling her gaze on you. You feel sheepish.

“Yes, you say. It’s not the whole truth, but some will have to do. “I always listen to you,”

Hunnigan rolls her eyes. “Leon can brief you on the helicopter,”

With that, she gathers her things and leaves the room. You grimace.

“She puts a lot of time into those, y’know,” Leon says, not quite looking at you. “The least you could do is listen to them,”

You shrug. “Lot on my mind, I guess,”

Leon looks at you then. You can feel his gaze all over your skin. Sometimes, you wish he wouldn’t be so detached. Would it kill him to feel for other people? To feel for you?

“Just food for thought,” he says finally, looking away from you. “Get your things. We’re up in ten,”

With that, he leaves you in the briefing room. You frown, feeling the weight of his stare even when he’s not with you. It weighs heavily on your bones, infecting your blood and burning your skin. You let out a sigh, physically shaking the interaction from your body.

Your bag is stuffed into your locker. It’s a sad sight, you think. No decorations, nothing to prove you were even here. You’re another number, another set of hands forged to do their job well. You reach in, attempting to release your back from where it’s wedged. If the strain in your back is any indication, it’s really stuck. Of course it is. Nothing ever seems to go right for you on days like this. You’re able to convince a passerby to help you dislodge it. Finally, you’re able to sling it across your back, the weight of it nearly knocking you down. You wonder if this is how medics in no man’s land felt, constantly bearing the weight of their comrades’ lives in their hands.

You wonder why you’re here at all. Sometimes, when you look at the supplies in the first aid kit, you feel sick. You can still feel the sticky blood coating your fingers, still warm from its previous owner, not yet even coagulated. The amount of blood you saw that night, the amount of pained cries you heard; the memories are still very much alive and well, and they live in your brain in a spot you can’t reach.

With a sigh, you push through the door of the stairwell to reach the helipad. You could take the elevator, but you’re feeling mean and want to make Leon wait. Hoisting your bag further onto your shoulder, you begin your climb. It’s only a few flights, but it takes long enough to have Leon scowling at you once you reach the helipad.

“I said ten,” he says as you chuck your bag into the helicopter. “You’re late,”

You frown at him. “You can’t leave without me. You’d die,”

Leon mutters something under his breath as you haul yourself into your seat. He follows close behind, plopping himself in the seat beside you. He hands you a headset before putting one on himself. The blades above are spinning and drowning out the sound of everything around you. Once the headset is on, you’re left with your thoughts. You’re shoulder to shoulder with him, his own knocking into yours every now and then as you lift off. You stare out the window, watching the clouds begin to circle around the helicopter. It lulls you into sleep.

You wake sometime later. Leon nudges you awake, and you find yourself having fallen asleep upon his shoulder. You’re nestled between his collar and jaw, comfortable as can be. You find yourself not wanting to move. You do anyway, because it’s the right thing to do, and blink a few times as you return to the land of the living. Leon looks at you, a look much softer than what you’re used to, but it’s quickly replaced with his normally hard exterior. You blink back at him.

“Time to go to work,” he says, and you nod. You’ve since landed, and Leon begins unsheathing himself from the headset and buckles holding him down.

It’s a quick maneuver before you’re both standing on broken asphalt. You frown. You can almost smell the stench of bodies from where you’re standing, but you’ve yet to see any. The metallic odor of blood hangs heavy in the air, a smell you’ve never been able to escape.

Leon moves ahead quickly, leaving you to haul your supplies on your own. That’s not unusual; Leon likes to get into the thick of it as quickly as possible, while you prefer to avoid it for as long as you can. With a huff, you sling your bag over your shoulder and begin to follow him. There’s smoke that hasn’t yet cleared from fires long forgotten, and you see the makeshift tents that have been thrown up. Leon ducks between the curtains of one, and you follow him wordlessly.

There’s a few people gathered in the tent. Leon heads over to a supervisor, beginning his work. You intend to do the same. There’s an empty cot and table near the back, which is as good a place as any to set up shop. You take your time removing each piece of equipment from your bags. A handful of antiseptics here, a box of gloves there, it all comes to find a home in your small area. This is the only part of work that you like. Everything has a home until someone gets injured and you have to disrupt the quiet peace you’ve managed to create. The thought makes you frown.

“Someone tried to level the city,” Leon’s voice comes from behind you. You don’t have to always be privy to the information, but Leon likes to fill you in. “There’s not a lot to go off of,”

You shrug, not turning to face him. “We know what was here before the bomb, though, right? That should give us some inclination,”

Leon hums. “It does. But it’s not a lot,”

“Someone wanted this struck from the record and fast,” you say, finally turning to look at him. He looks tired, especially cast in the harsh light from the industrial lamps. They highlight his sharp features; jawline, angular nose, high cheekbones.

“Seems that way,” he says, taking a seat on the cot in your workspace. “Will probably be bloody,”

You sigh. “It always is,”

Day two, and you’ve gone through more stitches than you can count. A man you don’t know the name of is stuck in the makeshift quarantine room you’ve set up, and you’ve been monitoring his condition like your life depends on it. He seems normal enough, but one can never be too sure.

It’s on day three that Leon comes to you. He’s covered in blood, whether his or other, and there’s a deep purple bruise that’s forming on his jaw. He’s stumbling, nearly collapsing as he attempts to walk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, running to catch him before he falls to the floor. He grins at you. It’s lopsided and boyish, one you would imagine on him in a different time. “Did you…?”

He shakes his head. “Lost a lot of blood,”

You narrow your eyes at him, hauling him onto the cot. “I gathered that. How, though? What made you lose all the blood?”

“We were getting swarmed. Had to make a quick decision and landed on some rebar,” he says, pulling up his shirt to reveal a nasty puncture on his left side. You grimace. “I have lost a lot of blood,”

“Yeah, I know,” you say, beginning to get to work. “You’re lucky you made it back to me, Kennedy,”

He frowns at you. “I’d always make it back to you,”

You choose to ignore his comment, instead focusing on cauterization. It’s mixed up in minutes, and you begin to slather it onto Leon’s skin. He breathes in deeply, twisting up his features in a wince. You’re babbling to him, mumbling that he’s okay and it’s not that bad and that he’s tougher than it.

“I need to remove your shirt to dress it,” you say, moving to grab scissors. “Don’t you dare move your arms above your head,”

He nods, moving them back to his sides. Gently, you take the hem of his shirt between your fingers and begin to cut. Once you reach his sternum, you feel his eyes on you. He’s watching you intently, a half smile on his lips. By the time you reach the collar, your face is flushing and you can feel the sweat beginning to bead along your hairline. You finish your work on the shirt, tugging it off him. You wrap his waist to hell in bandages to keep pressure on the wound.

“Take these,” you say, handing him two pills and a glass of water. He frowns at you. “Do you want to keep being in pain, or not?”

With a grumble, he holds out his hand, palm up. You place the pills in his hand and watch as he takes them. They go down hard and he winces again.

“Quit being a baby,” you say, smiling. “They’re not that bad,”

“I’m not a baby,” he says as he settles into the cot a bit more. His voice is soft, gentle, a tone you’ve rarely heard from him. You pull the thin sheet of a blanket up over him, tucking it around his shoulders.

“You’re on bed rest until I can be sure that you won’t die,” you say. He frowns. “And you’re getting a tetanus shot as soon as possible,”

“I hate those,” he says, drawing his brows together. A line forms between them, one you suddenly ache to reach out and smooth away. You feel a chill sneak down your spine.

“Well,” you say, puffing out a breath. “Quit falling on dubious looking metal and you won’t have to get them anymore,”

He hums, closing his eyes. You let the medicine do its job and lull him to sleep.

The next morning–or night, you’re not really sure–Leon’s cot is empty. You frown, knowing that he got up and went out without checking in with you first, which sparks a bit of anger in your chest. He knows better than to do that. At the very least, he tells you he’s leaving and lets you give him a once over before he disappears. You hope he knows he’ll be getting an earful when you see him next, a few choice words already spinning in your brain.

You busy yourself by cleaning your station. You patch up a few people here and there, sewing stitches like you were made to. It’s oddly calming. You know you’re good at your job, you just wish it were under different circumstances.

You wanted to be an EMT. That was always the dream. You’d watched them save lives hundreds of times, and that was what you wanted to do, too. But fate had other plans for you, namely in terms of bioweapons that changed the chemistry of human beings. This is not where you’d thought your life would go, but you’re playing the cards you were dealt nonetheless.

It’s day six when you see Leon again. He’s with a few men that you don’t remember the names of, hauling a black body bag into your tent. Leon’s gaze locks with yours, and you can feel the apology in it all over your skin. A lump forms in your throat that you try desperately to swallow.

“Got something for you to look at,” he says, plopping the bag onto a work table near your small station. You feel sick. “If you wouldn’t mind,”

“I don’t think I have a choice,” you mumble, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves. Gloves have become your security blanket. They keep the blood off your skin for the most part, which makes the job somewhat easier. Before, you’d never had an aversion to blood, it was just part of life. Now, you can never seem to wash it from your hands. Your frown deepens.

Leon hovers near you as you unzip the bag. It’s a horrid sight. The stench would be the worst part if it weren’t for the large amounts of flesh that slough off the body at every area. Whoever this was died a horrible, painful death, and you’re not even sure they knew it. You withhold a gag. They’re missing their nose, a few fingers, genitalia, and most of their bottom jaw. With as deep a breath as you can muster, you begin your work.

“What is it?” Leon asks. You shrug, breaking through their soft ribs. The crack is near silent. They were decomposing as they lived.

“Can’t be too sure yet,” you say, peeling back layers of sinew and muscle that were once taught and strong but are now lumpy and soggy. “Can you hand me a few of those dishes? I’ll need to keep samples to send home,”

Leon nods, moving around you to grab what you asked for. You place a few pieces of flesh and muscle into the dishes, closing the top and sealing away the smell. Leon’s nose wrinkles.

“You don’t have to watch,” you say, digging around further into the torso. “I know it’s not the most pleasant sight,”

“I’m the one who brought it, aren’t I?” he asks. You look at him. He’s fully serious, all hard lines and sharp edges. “It’s as much my duty as it is yours,”

You nod, continuing your work. You finally find what you’ve been digging around for. The heart is barely solid anymore. It was once healthy, capable of fueling the body better than any other organ, but it’s nothing more than a lump of tissue now. It’s oozing some kind of liquid.

“Can you hand me one of those vials?” you ask, keeping your eyes on the heart. It doesn’t look like it's been active in a while. Leon hands you a vial wordlessly, and you allow the liquid to drip into it.

“What’re you thinking?” Leon asks as you begin sewing up the sad sight of disintegrated tissue.

You shrug. “Infection of some kind. This person has been rotting a long time, whether they knew it or not. Places that should be healthy are not. My guess? They were sick long before any symptoms presented themselves and their body began to decompose and die. The infection took over,”

Leon lets out a breath. It’s not a great answer, and it’s even worse when given the context of your situation. “When will we know what it is for sure?”

“As soon as I get the results from the lab back home,” you say, disposing of your soiled gloves. “Probably two days,”

“That’s not ideal,” Leon says. There’s a strange amount of anger in his tone. You frown.

“I don’t like it any more than you do, but it’s the best we’ve got,” you say, words clipped. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going to hose off somewhere. I’ve been rooting around in a dead body for the last fifteen minutes,”

Leon looks at you in a way that keeps you rooted in place. He places a gentle hand on your shoulder, and says, “I’m sorry,”

The tension melts from your bones. “It’s okay,” you say. “We all have a job to do,”

You notice then how blue his eyes are. They’re glazed over with something you can’t place, but that doesn’t detract from their color. His face is so symmetrical, too. You’re almost jealous. You wonder, for a moment, what it would be like to touch him. Before you can sweat over it, you remove yourself from the situation and go find somewhere to get clean.

On day nine, after the results have returned from the lab, Leon takes a seat on your cot. You’re worrying over some files, attempting to connect this mystery virus to anyone who would make sense. You hate this part of your job more than any other. You’re built to do things, make changes, use your hands, not whatever this is.

“Find anything interesting?” Leon asks, handing you a granola bar. Something twists in your stomach.

“Not really,” you say. “Since Umbrella’s been mostly dissolved over the years, there’s no real leads. Every doctor is either dead or missing,”

Leon hums, mouth full of his own granola. You cut a glance at him. He looks comfortable, probably more than he has in days. You wonder why. When you’re surrounded by so much death and destruction, it’s hard to find a moment to relax. You, for one, haven’t gotten much sleep considering you’re either taking refuge on your cot for a few measly hours or sat directly upright in your chair. Your back aches.

You blow out a breath, leaning back in your chair away from the files. Leon watches you. “How’s your side?”

Wordlessly, he lifts his shirt to show you the mangled mess that is your cauterizing job. “Still hurts, but it’s not bleeding or opening, so that’s good,”

You smile. “Definitely a good sign. Feeling sick in any way?”

He shakes his head. “Other than dead tired? No, I’m healthy as a horse,”

You can’t stifle the laugh that erupts from your lips. It isn’t often that Leon is kind and gentle with you, so you try to enjoy the moments where he is. “I wouldn’t go that far, Kennedy. You’ve still got a ways to go,”

He narrows his eyes playfully at you. “I’d like a second opinion,”

You roll your eyes, grabbing the granola bar he’d given you. You haven’t really been eating since you touched down nine days ago. A few snacks here and there, but nothing concrete. It’s mostly been military rations, which are dry and too filling to be satisfying. You turn your eyes back to the files spread out on your table. It would be far more helpful to study these in a place with people who knew what to look for. You’re better at getting the information rather than analyzing it. Pouring over files isn’t exactly your forte.

“We leave tomorrow,” Leon says. You look at him. “There’s not much left for us to do here until we figure out what we’re fighting,”

You nod. “And the people?”

He pauses. You know the answer, so you’re not sure why you asked. “We’ll come back for them,”

Either with a bomb or help, you’re not sure. Probably the former. “Right,”

“We’re helping them by doing this,” he says, standing up to move nearer to you. He towers over you in your chair. You feel your breath catch in your throat. “You have to believe that,”

“I know,” you say, though you’re not sure how true that is. “We’re helping people,”

“You are helping people,” he says, voice soft and serious. “More than I am, that’s for sure,”

You shake your head. “Don’t say that. We’re both doing our part,”

He sets his lips into a hard line, nodding. He leaves you with that, and you return to your files. You don’t like the way he’s been making you feel. It’s confusing and makes you worry you’re reading things wrong. He’s never this kind to you, often opting for clipped responses and scowls. He still does that, but it’s softer now somehow, more playful than angry. It causes a stir in your stomach that you’re not positive is just from a lack of eating. It makes you twist up your features in order to focus.

The next morning, you’re packing your things. Your bones are anxious, ready to leave and be done with this hellscape. You feel Leon’s presence behind you before he speaks.

“Don’t tell me you’ve brought bad news,” you murmur, placing your tweezers back into their place in the kit. “I’d really like to have a real shower,”

You turn to face him then, and he’s watching you carefully like you’re a specimen to be studied. “No bad news, just coming to make sure you’re ready to leave,”

His tone is short. It makes your mouth sour. “I’m just about done here. Just…trying to recollect, I guess,”

He doesn’t respond, just keeps his gaze on you. You nod, and return to putting things away. You feel him lingering behind you like he has more to say, but chooses not to. You almost want to ask him why he’s just standing there, and if he’d rather make himself useful, but he turns away before you get the chance. It makes a bit of anger spark in your chest.

Guess we’re back to that, you think. It makes you scowl.

You haul your bag onto your back, along with a few more bits and bobs that you snagged from the tent that you’d need later. The files are tucked snugly into folders that you’ll hand to Leon the second you get onto the helicopter. You want them out of your possession as soon as possible. A frown makes its home on your face as you duck out of the tent.

The stench of rotten bodies hits you quickly, and it occurs to you that you haven’t left this tent almost the entire time you’ve been here. You’ve been too busy patching people up, digging through mutilated corpses, and taking notes. Not that you’d want to leave if you had the chance; it was a warzone out here. You suppress a gag.

“Took you long enough,” Leon says as you approach. Your frown deepens.

“You didn’t give me a time limit,” you snap. Leon’s face flashes with an emotion you can’t discern before it’s replaced by his cold exterior again.

“Shouldn’t have to,” he responds, taking your bag from you. He places it on the floor of the helicopter. His tone lacks the distinct playfulness you’d grown used to these last few days. It makes you angry. How dare he give you an olive branch and then rip it away from you just as you’d grown used to it? He’s being cruel.

A loud blast shakes the earth beneath your feet. Leon’s arms snake around you as he hauls you into his frame. You can’t even find it in yourself to look at where the explosion came from, you’re too busy staring up at him. His focus is elsewhere, of course, his calculating gaze scanning the area.

“We need to go,” he says, turning his head to look at you. You feel your knees weaken, and you’re thankful he’s holding you because you’re sure you’d collapse under his gaze.

You nod, mostly because you can’t trust yourself to speak. You hate that he suddenly has the power to render you speechless. He helps you into the helicopter before jumping in beside you. You’re lifting off as he hands you the headset.

“Okay?” he asks, voice hushed. You nod. He scans you for injuries.

“I’m fine, Leon,” you say, reaching out to squeeze his arm. Whether from the action or the circumstances, his face sours, and he nods. You retract your hand.

When you land sometime later, Leon is silent as he helps you unload. You trek downstairs to your office, mulling over the last week and a half in your head. You’d found yourself looking forward to the next time Leon would invade your space. He’d provided a much needed distraction from the viscera of the job, and you’d welcomed it. You wonder if that was his intention and he was just being kind. But you didn’t know Leon to be kind, especially to you. You reach your office, feeling more alone than you have in a while.

It’s dark and empty in the room, save for two desks, a chair, and a few computers. It makes you sigh. You throw your bag onto one of the desks, and realize you’re still clutching the files you’d meant to give to Leon. You toss them onto the desk as well. If he wants them, he can come get them. How are you supposed to trust him when all he does is have mood swings? With a sigh, you sit in your chair. You’re only granted a few moments of peace before Rebecca bursts into your office.

“You still have those files?” she asks. You nod, turning to hand them to her. She thumbs through them for a moment.

“Any leads?” you ask, exhaustion heavy in your voice. Rebecca cuts you a glance.

“Nothing concrete yet,” she says, tucking them under her arm. “Leon wants to take them home so he can look at them tonight,”

Your brows raise. “Why couldn’t he come get them?”

Rebecca shrugs and gives you a soft smile before bustling back out of the room. Of course. You’re only helpful in the field, you should know that by now. You try to remind yourself that you and Leon are an unwilling team. Neither of you asked to be saddled with the other. There’s no real reason for you to be friends–or anything more, for that matter–you only need to be friendly. You’ve been content with that for so long, so you don’t know why it’s such a big deal now.

Your apartment feels like heaven when you finally return to it. You stand in the shower until the water goes cold, which you feel like you deserve. You can’t get the sight of that body that Leon brought you out of your head. It was so ugly, so mangled, and you feel a pit of dread in your stomach. That was once a person, with a family, with a job and a life, and you reduced it to a science experiment. It makes you cry. You cry on the bathroom floor until your tear ducts run dry and you physically can’t anymore. Your face is red and swollen by the time you finally get into a pair of sweatpants and a shirt from a long forgotten boyfriend.

And then you sit on the couch. You stare at the television, not quite watching the old movie that’s playing. All you can think about is that body. You don’t know their name, you don’t even know their gender, and they are all you can think about. You know you won’t be able to sleep, so you don’t even try.

The phone is dialed before you can even notice what you’re doing. He picks up on the second ring.

“I hope this is important,” he answers. You sniff. “You okay?”

You huff a laugh in spite of yourself. “Yeah,” you say, wiping your nose on your sleeve. The whole ordeal is gross and unbecoming, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. “I don’t know why I called. I’m sorry,”

You don’t hang up, and he doesn’t either. The line is silent for a while before he says, “You don’t want to be alone,”

It’s not a question, more of a statement, but you answer. “Yeah, I guess. This one was…harder,”

“I know,” he says. “I’ll be there in ten,”

Before you can protest, he hangs up. That wasn’t your goal, to get him trapped in your apartment, but you can’t say you’re displeased by it. You don’t want to be alone. And you can’t say you have anyone else to call, either. Things could be worse.

True to his word, a knock sounds at your front door ten minutes later. You answer it, eyes still swollen so much that they’re almost shut, and you look at Leon with slightly blurry vision. He looks so put together, so handsome, and you wonder how he manages it. It makes you frown.

“Are you going to let me in, or are you just going to stare at me in the hallway all night?” he asks, that playful tone back again. It almost makes you smile. You let him in, and he takes a minute to survey your living space. There’s a few knick knacks scattered on shelves here and there, a few pictures from high school, and your award of excellence you received when you graduated.

“I’m sorry,” you say. He turns to look at you. “You didn’t have to come all the way out here. I’m sure you have better things to do,”

He shakes his head. “Not really. You needed me,”

The softness of his tone makes your lips quiver. Before you can stop yourself, you ask, “Why do you do that?”

“Do what?”

“Pretend not to care about me half the time, and then get all soft when something is bothering me. Half the time, I can’t tell if you hate me. You did it on this last mission, and you’re doing it now. I’d rather you be mean to me all the time than do…whatever this is,” you ramble. You can feel yourself grinding your teeth as he considers you.

“I don’t hate you,” he says, then takes a seat on your couch, making himself comfortable. “I’ve never hated you,”

You frown more, if that’s even possible. “Then why do you act like you do?”

He shrugs. “Easier that way, I guess,”

Your shoulders deflate and you settle in beside him on the couch. You feel suddenly calmer being next to him. He warms your bones and eases your tension, and for a moment, you hate him for it. You hate that he’s suddenly able to chase away your darkest parts, whether he knows it or not. It almost makes you angry.

“Get some rest,” he says, voice low. You nod, eyelids already slipping closed. Your head falls onto his shoulder.

“Will you stay?” you ask.

After a moment, he says, “Of course,”

#m writes #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil #x reader #my fics #leon kennedy #resident evil fanfic #fanfic #blood and bone

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luckhound · 1 month ago

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gintoki + relationship headcanons.

↻ pairing ✦ gintoki/gender neutral reader

↻ request ✦ I read your rules and stuff, and I hope I read it right gsusvjddn can I request some relationship headcanons for Gintoki? I can't watch the final movie for Gintama yet and I am devastateD —anonymous

↻ warnings ✦ mild suggestive content, blink and you'll miss it; terrible attempt at humour

author's note: this is several years late but i Just started a rewatch and was reminded of my love for this story and its characters. so uh, better late than never?

First of all, you deserve a medal for perseverance. You managed to do the impossible by entering into a relationship with this man, who dodges romantic entanglements without even trying to despite the many possible love interests in the source material

Now you have to deal with a cheapskate who doesn't have a single romantic bone in his body. Congrats!

Don't expect to be taken out on a date any time soon; his idea of a good time is to recline on the couch and read Jump. Unfortunately, that doesn't change even when he has a partner who he could be spending his free time with

When the two of you do go out, maybe sit down somewhere for a bite to eat, Gintoki expects you to pay. What? He should foot the bill? With what money? Any cash that so much as brushes his hands is snatched up by the old hag (Otose), or gobbled up by the brat with the bottomless stomach (Kagura), or swallowed up by the pachinko machines that the idiot hits up (Gintoki)

Rarely do you have privacy. At any given time, a revolving door of characters will intrude upon your finite alone time with Gintoki; if it isn't the rare client asking for help, it's one of his friends annoyances (or so he calls them) stumbling into you two, or some two-bit villain hatching the latest evil plan that's plaguing Edo this week

Then there's Shinpachi and Kagura, who stick to the man like gum on a shoe. Sure, you do adore them, but babysitting two kids while trying to spend quality time with Gintoki can get old—you're dating a penniless samurai, not a struggling single dad!

Don't bother expecting him to get jealous or possessive; if someone were to flirt with you in front of him, it'd go right over his head

You would have to spell it out for him after the fact, and even then he'd stare at you with those dead fish eyes, wondering what you wanted him to do about it

Wait a second, you must be thinking. All of these bullet points so far have only listed the cons of dating this bastard! Where's the good stuff? What are the pros?

There aren't any, sorry to say. You're better off dumping him like yesterday's garbage and moving on to someone worth your time

Which is probably what Gintoki would say, if forced at gunpoint to answer truthfully; he has no clue why you tied your fate to him of all people

You, on the other hand, might reply with:

He's constantly finding excuses to touch you. His head in your lap while he reads Jump on the couch, his ankle brushing yours under the table when dining out, his arm tossed around your shoulders as you walk

As much as he loudly complains and huffs and rolls his eyes, he doesn't stop you when you steal food from his plate. He'll even let you swipe some of his parfait, despite threatening to make you pay for another. It'd be easy for him to slap your hand away, but he never does

Romantic he may not be, but you know just how much he wants you by the way he can't keep his hands off you when the mood hits; his every touch elicits shivers, his mouth never strays far from yours for long, his gaze dark and intent on you

There is no one more doggedly loyal than Gintoki. No one who cares more about your wellbeing and happiness. No one else who would put you first when it matters, protect you from anything or anyone that may try to harm you

For those reasons and more, you'll deal with the many downsides that come with dating Sakata Gintoki. Not always happily, mind you, but you'll do it anyway

("Why do they even put up with him?" Shinpachi wonders aloud, watching the two of you bicker for the fifth time that day. "Stockholm syndrome," is Kagura's immediate answer.)

#gintama x reader #gintama headcanons #gintama imagines #gintama imagine #sakata gintoki x reader #gintoki x reader #m writes #i'm in shock i'm posting something after all this time lmao #don't look at how long it's been since my last upload.#trust me. don't.

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arithmonym · 5 months ago

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Rated T | 3k words

“I’m going to die alone,” Gideon lamented. “God hates lesbians. Hates me, specifically.”

Harrow didn’t look up from her homework, but she stopped chewing on her pen for long enough to reply. “God wouldn’t take time out of His day to torment you, specifically,” she told her flatmate.

or: t4t griddlehark, mary oliver, and a conversation on the floor of harrow's bedroom.

#i’ve been stuck on my harrow nova AU for agesss but i wrote this in two days because i was craving t4t griddlehark fluff #they compel me greatly :’)#the locked tomb #tlt #tlt fic #gideon nav #harrowhark nonagesimus #griddlehark #m writes

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sauron-kraut · 29 days ago

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Promotion post for this little thing I wrote in this year's @fall-for-tolkien's Scribbles & Drabbles event for @narisz's absolutely gorgeous art Hush. I hope you will enjoy this piece.🖤

Summary: Mairon and Thuringwethil sneak into an elven fortress, ready to strike and enjoy their meal.

Pairing: Mairon & Thuringwethil

Words: 351

Warnings: implied vampirism and elves as prey

As always: If you like this little piece, comments on AO3 are appreciated! 🖤

Not beta read!

#mairon #sauron #thuringwethil #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #my writing #m writes #ficlet #not beta'd #scribbles and drabbles 2024 #fandom event

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dadjokesbutgay · 3 months ago

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Ava hcs p2 (The Coffee Incident)

Another mercs one!!!

ok so. In the Rocket Corp building, there is absolutely no coffee. In fact, there are no sources of caffeine within 200 meters of the Rocket Corp building. In the early weeks after The Incident, after coffee was removed from the building, a few new worker sticks might still bring in a cup. They weren't around long enough to have been there on... that day. If any brown liquid was detected, whoever saw it would delete it IMMEDIATELY, whether or not they were authorized to use the appropriate tools to do so. Whoever brought the coffee would either be warned by other, older employees not to do it again or caught by one of the higher cups and lose their job. Victim would personally punish anyone who dared let caffeine enter the company (the stronger the coffee, the more likely the poor stick was to be fired). However, this proved too inefficient and all cafes in the surrounding towns were quietly removed for small health violations not even the most detail-oriented lawyer would remember offhand until they were brought up in court. Caffeine was banned from all Rocket Corp institutions, but that wasn't what stopped the second coming of the incident. Agent, by some miracle, was what cancelled that apocalypse. Now, every stick employed by Rocket Corp has signed a contract at some point swearing off the consumption, handling, and/or possession of any form of caffeine. Victim will use any means necessary to stop another supplier from sneaking coffee into Rocket Corp and causing another Incident, as will the mercenaries.

Well, most of the mercenaries.

Unfortunately for the rest of Rocket Corp (and everyone, really), Ballista will never forgive Agent for prying that espresso from his hands, even if it was to prevent another Incident, even if the sheer amount of gratitude Vic showed Shady McSimps afterwards got his otp 5,000 steps closer to becoming canon, even if drinking that coffee would have made the world end (which it actually might have; Ballista and espresso is never a good combination).

He WILL obtain coffee again.

No matter how long it takes.

No matter the cost.

He WILL complete his goal.

And if that causes another Coffee Incident, so be it.

#avm #animation vs animator #ava mercenaries #ava victim #ava ballista #ava agent #ava agent smith #ava vicagent #ava rocket corp #M writes

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onbeinganangel · 6 months ago

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lmfao guess what was NOT on my bingo card for the year? i mean, F U C K — this wasn't even on my bingo card three days ago kjdgjkhkldj @fluxweeed i'm sorry i can't let a good idea rest!! thank you for the theo brainworms, i thought about him really hard and then got drunk and then there were sooooooo many words on the page already i thought i may as well let the world see it. happy belated solstice!!

o fiery sun | harry potter/theo nott, 3k words, explicit

#idk what i'm doing here i'm going to be so serious #if this is bad just don't tell me just ignore it just scroll past #we can pretend it never happened #nottpott #m writes

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thisantithesis · 5 months ago

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something i wrote based on this art because i can’t help myself / jegulus, 594 words

It’s a rainy day when it happens.

James is at his favorite bakery, eating his favorite cake, mourning the loss of a beautiful sunny day that would’ve found him spending all his time outside.

As it stands, though, the skies are pouring out harder than they have in months, immediately soaking anyone who chooses to step foot outside. It’s on days like these that James usually finds himself hanging out with friends, all of them gathering together in one place and spending their time laughing themselves silly.

Today wouldn’t have been any different, but James has asked every single one of his friends, all of them giving him the same answer: sorry, I already have plans.

So, that’s why he finds himself at his favorite shop, eating away his sorrows and cursing the rain for ruining his day. He’s mildly upset, not really with his friends because it’s not their fault, and more with the situation as a whole.

James is able to spend time by himself, but he finds it’s always better to be with other people. The silence around him when he’s alone feels oppressive, to the point that it becomes unbearable. So really, finding himself in a public space when he could’ve used his free time to clean any part of his flat that desperately needs it is par for the course.

James is sitting at the window, watching people run along the sidewalks while trying—and failing—to shield themselves from the rain, when he sees him.

He’s the only one not running, covered by a simple, large black umbrella. While everyone else is rushing to their destinations, he’s walking, albeit at a brisk pace, but with a calm air about him.

The sight of the man takes James aback, where he has to blink once or twice more to make sure he’s really seeing this him, because there’s something about his aloof demeanor and piercing blue eyes that causes a wave of déjà-vu to crash over James.

This single moment in time stretches on forever when the man’s gaze flicks towards James’ through the window, a brief flash of emotion bursting through the pale blue. Their eyes meet and lock in place, and if James didn’t know any better he would think they were the only two people left on earth.

Meeting the man’s gaze feels like profound loss and extreme happiness, like home and hurt all rolled into one. The sheer strength of these unknown emotions hit James right in the chest, leaving him breathless and aching. The burst of emotions in the other man’s eyes expands and takes over, momentarily causing a misstep in his gait.

Everything comes crashing back down around James when the man turns his gaze away as he rights himself, breaking whatever connection they had. Time speeds back up to normal and the sound from the shop rushes back in, leaving James stumped as to what he just experienced.

The stranger never turns back around to the window, continuing his brisk walk in the rain as if nothing happened, as if they didn’t just share a very real moment. He has the strongest urge to go and run after the man, to stop him and ask if he felt whatever that just was too, but his thoughts are interrupted when he feels his phone vibrate.

James answers the call, absent-mindedly listening to the person on the other end, all while looking through the window and watching the black umbrella slowly fade away into the distance, inexplicably feeling like he just lost something significant.

#regulus black #james potter #regulus x james #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fic #marauders #marauders era #m writes

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formula-hamilton · 1 year ago

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The Favorite Duo | Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summary: Everyone thinks that Lewis and his best friend are dating. Face claim: Anna Lin A/N: I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, spinzbeatinc, and 16.571 others

yourusername Life lately

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lewishamilton 🔥

yourfriend Slaying as always 🥵

hamiltonsworld I don't know if I wanna be her or be with her

44grid Be with her, no doubt. Lewis is one lucky man hamiltonsworld Ermm sorry to break it to you but they're just friends...

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, pierregasly, and 1.254.156 others

lewishamilton Paris with bestie

Tagged yourusername

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yourusername 🫶🏼 best city with the best friend

mercedesamgf1 Fave duo 🤩

roscoelovescoco Mums and dads 😃

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, yourfriend, and 20.678 others

yourusername Summer days with you

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lewishamilton ❤️

stillwerise I still don't believe that they're just friends

yourusername added a story

yourusername

Liked by yourfriend, spinzbeatinc, and 14.271 others

yourusername Birthday celebrations with my boo

View all 192 comments

yourfriend Couple goals

lewisarmy No Lewis?

mercerdesupdates She always posts Lewis on her birthday. Wtf is going on?

lewishamilton

Liked by landonorris, roscoelovescoco, and 1.381.169 others

lewishamilton No time for distractions

View all 8.171 comments

mercedesamgf1 👊 let's go

yourusername

Liked by lewishamilton, spinzbeatinc, and 17.871 others

yourusername I'm doing good I'm on some new shit

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hamiltonsworld Lewis in the likes!!!!

yourfriend Baddie no 1

lewischampion You are GLOWING

lewishamilton Looking good

lewishamilton

Liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, and 1.691.163 others

lewishamilton Never letting her go again

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yourusername Best day with the best boyfriend :)

spinzbeatinc Finally! Thank you lord for hearing my prayers

roscoelovescoco Mums and dads 😃

#f1 imagine #lewis hamilton #instagram imagine #insta au #m writes #insta edit #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #social media au #lewis hamilton social media au #f1 social media au #lewis hamilton insta au

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littlelou22 · 2 years ago

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pretend | joel miller x fem!reader

summary: joel ends things with you, leaving you in the dark as to why. will the two of you get back together or stay apart?

warnings: angst, hurt, mean!joel, insecure!joel, eventual fluff, age gap (reader in undefined age but young, joel’s canon age), language, men being TRASH, violence, y/n used like twice, probs shitty writing, idk let me know if I miss any

divider credit: @saradika

word count: 6.2k

author's note: my first post, let me know what you think :)

requests open!

The two of you stood on opposite sides of the bed in your – his – room, chest heaving as you stare at Joel. You didn’t know what had gotten into him, the two of you were fine when you returned from patrol a few hours earlier. Joel had gone to help Tommy with something and you had taken Ellie to see whatever movie was playing tonight.

“I don’t understand why you’re being so cold with me,” you spoke, shaking your head.

And you truly didn’t. You and Ellie had stopped at the Tipsy Bison to pick up dinner for the three of you after Joel was helping Tommy. Ellie had run off while you waited for the food, seeing Dina stationed at one of the tables. You passed the time at the bar, occasionally making forced small talk with the other patrons. Even though you had been in Jackson for a few months, you still didn’t feel quite at ease with most of the people here.

After you got the food, you ventured off home with Ellie to wait until Joel was done. But he never showed, not until after you and Ellie had eaten and the younger girl had gone off to bed. Joel had stormed in, kicked off his boots, and immediately went upstairs, not sparing you a single glance. Obviously, you had followed him, but you have no idea how you ended up here.

“I’m done with this,” Joel says, eyes everywhere except on you. “I’m done with you.”

“What?” You take a step back as if his words had physically pushed you.

“I needed you for her. That’s it,” Joel snapped at you. “Now that it’s over, I don’t see a reason to pretend anymore. Understand?”

You felt as if the air had been sucked out of you, as if Joel had kicked you right in the stomach. You thought you finally had a grasp on Joel, that you could finally read how he was feeling. But as you stared at him from across the room, he felt more like a stranger than the man you fell in love with.

You wanted to scream, to cry, to plead with him to not do this. To not leave you like everyone else did. But you didn’t – you couldn’t. Before you could even process what was happening, you were nodding.

“Okay,” you breathed, nodding your head. You felt the tears burning behind your eyes, begging to be released, but you refused to crack in front of him. Refused to let him see how much his words had made your heart ache. “If that’s how you feel, then okay.”

So, you left. Out of his bedroom and down the hall, passing Ellie’s door where you knew she was inevitably listening to the fight. Down the stairs and out the front door, letting it swing closed behind you. Your feet carried you down the dark street until you couldn’t go any further. The tears burned behind your eyes, a sob escaping you as you stumbled into the stables, barely making it to one of the hay bales before collapsing in on yourself.

You didn’t understand what happened, what had changed since you got back from Salt Lake City. Since the three of you tried to integrate into the community. Since Ellie started at school. Since you and Joel started to patrol and help wherever you could in Jackson.

Did you do something that upset Joel? That made him rethink whatever it was between the two of you? The two of you weren’t officially together but your relationship wasn’t nothing. At least, you didn’t think you were nothing.

Clearly, you were wrong. What you thought was a relationship was actually just a means to get by, a way to pass time for Joel. You get it, you really try to. The road was long, it was tough, and it was lonely. The three of you had seen, and done, unthinkable things to get Ellie to the Fireflies. Obviously, that didn’t go as planned, landing the three of you back in Jackson. Where it felt impossible to return to some semblance of normalcy. So, how could you blame him for using you as an escape?

You just wish he would’ve told you from the beginning what it actually was.

It was morning by the time you dragged yourself out of the stables. Thanking whatever higher power there was that you didn’t have morning patrol, you made your way to Tommy and Maria’s. If Joel didn’t want to pretend, then neither could you. You couldn’t pretend to be okay with being around him after what had happened, so you decided to avoid him at all costs. But, you couldn’t abandon Ellie, not after everything the young girl had been through. Even if she was more distant after Salt Lake, you couldn’t bring yourself to up and leave her. You wouldn’t.

With a deep breath, your knuckles rapped against Tommy and Maria’s front door. You knew it was early, the sun barely just peeking over the horizon but you couldn’t wait. You and Joel were assigned second patrol, and you’d rather not be subjected to that after last night.

“You look like shit,” Tommy said after answering the door. You knew you did, sleeping on a rectangular stack of hay could only offer so much.

“Good morning to you too,” you force a smile at him. You liked Tommy, you had become close with him and his wife after settling in Jackson but you didn’t want to see the younger Miller brother right now. You knew it wasn’t his fault, but you couldn’t help the deepening pit in your stomach at the sight of him. “Is Maria up yet?”

“She’s out back, hanging laundry on the line,” he answers, eyes scanning over your puffy eyes and pale face. “You okay, bug?”

“M’fine Tommy, thank you” you grimace at the nickname. Joel had gifted you the name when the two of you met and upon arriving in Jackson, Tommy took up to calling you that as well. You make your way to the back of the house where you found Maria, true to Tommy’s word. Sighing, you grab one of the shirts in the basket, joining her at the laundry line.

“Good morning,” Maria muses, a playful smile on her face as she turns to you, wiping her hands on her jeans before resting them on her hips. “What can I do for you?”

“What makes you think I need something?” You can’t help but respond. Maria was the closest thing to a friend you had in Jackson, it was hard not to feel as though you could be yourself around her.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you up and out this early in the morning,” she says, glancing back at the house to see Tommy in the window, watching the women through the glass. He shrugs, answering her silent query. “What’s wrong?”

You sigh heavily, pinching your nose between your fingers after hanging the shirt on the line. “I need you to switch my patrol partner.”

“Trouble in paradise?” Maria asks, voice gentle as if you were a frightened deer.

“No paradise to have troubles in,” you mutter, shaking your head. “I don’t want to talk about it. It didn’t work out, I just need you to switch my partner.”

Maria stared at you, narrowing her eyes as she, like Tommy, surveyed your condition. You knew she saw right through you. Knew there was more to the story than you were letting on to.

“Okay,” she nodded after a minute, looking at the watch on her wrist. “There’s still fifteen minutes before first patrol, go let Alexander know he’s with Miller now. You can patrol with Marcus now.”

You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, relief filling you to the thought of not being around Joel. The relief soon left at the mention of your new partner, but you couldn’t be picky here. “Thank you Maria, I won’t let you down.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she replies, crossing her arms in front of her chest. “You better get going if you want to make it.”

“Right,” you say, turning on your heels to start the walk back to the stables, knowing the morning patrol people would be there by now.

Maria watches you leave, only making her way inside once you are out of her sight. As she enters the kitchen, Tommy appears before her with raised eyebrows.

“What was that about?” He asks, passing her a cup of warm tea.

Maria sighs, shaking her head. “I’m not sure, but your dumbass brother might.”

“Joel?” Tommy questions, confused as to what might’ve happened between his brother and the woman he is obviously infatuated with.

“Do you have another brother that I don’t know about?” she raises her eyes at her husband, shaking her head. “She wanted to switch patrol partners, wouldn’t tell me why or what happened.”

“Shit,” Tommy sighs, leaning back against the counter before muttering. “What did you do, Joel?”

“I have no idea,” Maria shrugs before setting her mug in the sink. She pats Tommy’s shoulder before making her way towards the stairs, turning to face her husband before she climbs them. “But have fun letting him know!”

“That was fun,” Marcus smiled at you as the two of you rode your horses through the front gates after patrol. Eyes zeroing in on your hips as they rise and fall with each step of your horse.

You force a smile at him, half listening to him as your eyes dart back and forth in search of Joel. You knew he was due to head on second patrol and the last thing you wanted to do was see him. “It sure was.”

“Alex never looked that pretty when taking down Infected,” Marcus continues, not picking up on your disinterest in him. “Glad there was a change up, I was beginning to get bored of watching him.”

You don’t offer him a response as you continue towards the stables, preoccupied with hoping and praying that Joel and his new partner had already left for patrol. For once, whatever higher power out there was on your side as you find the stables vacant.

“Thank God,” you mutter to yourself, sliding off your horse, Luna, to guide her towards her stall which was thankfully far away from Marcus’. Once you got her in her stall, you began to take off her saddle and get her ready for the night. As you did so, your mind wandered to your new patrol partner.

You weren’t oblivious, you knew what Marcus was doing. It wouldn’t be the first time that he tried to sweet talk you. The man had been adamant to gain your attention since you stepped foot in Jackson after the Firefly incident. Whether it was at the stables, the Tipsy Bison, or at movie night, Marcus tried everything to engage you in a conversation.

Any chance he got, Marcus would try his best to make an impression on you. To ask you out on a date. None of his advances ever made it far, you weren’t interested in the men of Jackson and had made it clear. At least, you thought you did, especially after yesterday’s event at the Tipsy Bison.

While you were waiting for the food, Marcus and his friends were putting the ‘tipsy’ in Tipsy Bison. When drinking, Marcus liked to get a little handsy and his previous rejected advances did not seem to deter him trying again. In good Marcus fashion, he attempted, again, to get you to go out with him. You rejected him, as you had many times before, by sliding his arm off your shoulders before moving to a different part of the bar. Luckily, your food was ready soon after so you didn’t have to endure his stares any longer.

“Penny for your thoughts?” A voice rang out in the stall, causing you to whip around to find the intruder.

Ellie leaned against the opening, arms crossed over her chest as she watched you catch your breath, clearly you had not heard her enter the stables.

“Jesus, Els, you can’t sneak up on people like that,” you breathe, shaking your head at the young girl. You eye the backpack she throws onto the ground before she flops down onto the stool you had brought in earlier. “Aren’t you supposed to be in school right now?”

“It’s boring,” she answers as if it was an acceptable reason. “You gonna tell Joel I’m skipping?”

You stiffen at the mention of his name, glancing at Ellie before answering. “Nope.”

“You want to talk about what happened last night?” She presses, confirming your previous suspicions of her eavesdropping tendencies.

“Nope.” Exiting the stall, you make yourself appear busy to avoid further questioning from the girl.

Ellie follows, picking at the end of her sleeves, shifting from foot to foot as she watches you flit around the stable. You spare a glance at her, knowing that her mind is running a mile a minute as it gears up before speaking.

“You okay, Bellie?” You ask, halting your work.

“You aren’t gonna leave, right?” Ellie asks after a moment, eyes avoiding your face.

You sigh, setting down the pail of food you gathered before walking up to the girl. You place your hands on her shoulders, giving her a gentle shake. “Of course not, I promised you that I would never leave you, remember?”

The girl nods, “I remember.”

“Good,” you smile at her, ruffling up her hair before giving her a gentle push towards the stable doors. “Go back to school before you get us both in trouble.”

After Ellie leaves, you putter around the stables for a few hours before you hear the clopping of horses approaching the stables. Peeking out of the window, you see Joel and his new patrol partner.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. You think, immediately running back to Luna’s stall. You frantically grab your things and hightail it out of the back entrance of the stables. Leaning against the back of the barn, you wait until you hear the men enter before making your way back to town. You had no idea how you were going to avoid Joel for the foreseeable future, but there was no way you were ready to face him.

The next few weeks went by similarly. You left the house before the sun rose, before anyone in the house was awake. You would go on patrol, endure several hours of the torture that is Marcus and his antics before returning to the town. You’d wait to watch Joel leave for patrol before going to the house you shared or going into town. Once he was back home, you’d return to the stables where you would spend your evenings, only returning home in the late hours of the night. One day while he was on patrol, you had moved all of your things into the third bedroom that was now your own. It worked, you rarely ran into Joel. When you did, you would turn and go the opposite direction or retreat back to your room.

It worked until it didn’t.

You were at the Tipsy Bison, leaned against the bar with a drink in your hand as you listened to Maria. She had to practically drag you out here after days of begging for you to socialize. To be a part of the community. You partly did it to get her off your back, but as you listened to the conversation around you, you felt happy that she managed to get you to come out. It had been a long time since you stayed in one place for longer than ten minutes without constantly checking over your shoulder.

Maria had been recounting a story about Tommy from early on in their relationship when you felt it. Felt eyes burning into your back. Stares that felt like ice water spilling down your shirt, sending vicious shivers up your spine. It felt uneasy, putting you on edge. The longer it lingered, the more uncomfortable you grew.

Turning to give the establishment a once over, you noticed two things. One, Joel was in the corner with his brother, hands full with glasses of neat whiskey as they conversed with one another. Eyes on Tommy, not on you. And two, your oh so lovely patrol partner making his way over towards your group.

“Maria,” you start, turning to your friend, attempting to say your goodbyes before booking it out of the bar when a rather large and heavy arm is slung around your shoulders.

Marcus steadies himself on your shoulder, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores as he surveys your group, eyes lingering on you for too long. “Ladies! Looking fantastic tonight!”

“Why thank you, Marcus,” one of the women, Fiona, in your group respond, smirking at the obviously drunk man. She bats her eyelashes at him and you feel sick. “How can we help you?”

“Just wanted to talk to my patrol partner here,” Marcus turns to peer down at you, offering you a smile as he squeezes you to his side. “Tommy told me we are patrolling a new area tomorrow, so I figured the two of us could talk strategy. Maybe over a drink or two.”

You grimace, trying to shrug his arm off your shoulder but he is gripping onto you impeccably tight. “It’s late, Marcus, and I was just about to leave. We can talk about it tomorrow.”

“How about he walks you home?” Maria suggests, raising her eyebrows at you. You throw her a look, hoping she picks up on the obvious disapprovement you have over this idea. But she doesn’t, the other women in the group joining in on the idea. “The two of you can discuss it on the way back.”

“It’s the least you can do,” Fiona nods at you, cutting you off when you go to protest. “You did force him to change partners, you can’t blame the man for wanting to make sure he’s safe tomorrow.”

Sending Fiona a hard glare, you push Marcus’ arm off of your shoulder to slip on your coat. “Fine, let’s go.”

You wave off the group’s goodbyes before beelining for the door. The faster you get out of here, the faster you can get home and away from Marcus. On the way out, you glance at the table that Tommy and Joel were residing at, finding it vacant. At this point, you didn’t care if you would run into Joel at the house. Anything was preferable to spending any more time than necessary with your insufferable patrol partner.

After exiting the building, you start towards home at a quick pace, hoping to shorten the usual ten minute walk into a five minute walk. You don’t feel Marcus at your side, hoping that you lost him in your haste out of the bar. Your thoughts are silenced when you feel his hand wrap around your wrist, yanking you to a halt and into one of the allies in the town square.

“What’s the rush, sweetheart?” Marcus smirks, pulling closer to you as his grip on your wrist tightens.

“Got the kid waiting up for me back home,” you quickly lie, tugging your wrist back in an attempt to free yourself. “QZ schools weren’t the best, she needs help with her homework.”

He chuckles, shaking his head at you before backing you into the brick wall of the alley behind you. “I’m sure her dad can help her with that. We have some things to discuss.”

“It would be best to discuss whatever it is in the morning,” you gulp, pressing closer to the wall to create more space between the two of you. “When we both haven’t been at a bar for the night. With clearer minds.”

“Baby,” Marcus breathes, “My mind has never been more clear.”

He ducks his head, pressing his lips forcefully against yours. His hands move to your hips, pressing himself into you. You desperately try pulling your head back to avoid him, but the brick wall behind you prevents you from moving away. Panicking, you sink your teeth into his lip, biting down until you taste the metallic tang of blood. Your hands move to his chest, pushing him off with all your strength. Marcus stumbles back, hands dabbing at his lip to feel the damage.

“What the actual fuck are you thinking?” You seeth, wiping the taste of him away with the back of your hand. You stare at him for a beat, bewildered, before pushing off the wall to make your escape.

You make it a few steps before Marcus surges forward, arms encircling your waist to pull you off the ground. All attempts of your struggle are thwarted when he throws you onto the pavement, hands wrapping around your throat as he straddles your stomach, your arms pinned to his thighs.

“You disrespectful, little bitch,” he spits, hands tightening at your throat. “Your daddy ever teach you manners as a young girl? Like all girls need to be taught?”

You gasp at the lack of oxygen as you try to squirm your way out of his grasp. Your constant struggle only seems to agitate Marcus more as he pulls you off the ground before slamming you back down. The back of your head bounces off the hard pavement beneath the two of you. All efforts to fight cease as dots begin to swarm your vision.

“You respect men that want to talk to you,” Marcus growls, smirking at your dazed face. His hands continue to tighten around your throat. “You’re lucky to even have my attention.”

Your vision is starting to go dark when his weight is suddenly pulled off of you. Coughing, you roll onto your stomach, attempting to gain your bearings. You hear fighting next to you, propping yourself on your hands and knees to try to see what’s going on.

“So help me god,” Joel practically snarls, one hand gripping Marcus’ collar while the other delivers a nose shattering punch.

“If you ever go near her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you look at her again, I will kill you.” Punch.

“If you even so much as breathe in her direction, I will kill you.” Punch.

“Do I make myself clear?”

You watch from your hands and knees as Joel delivers punch after punch until Marcus is whimpering under him, gasping for air like you were only moments earlier. Once he believes the message has been received, Joel drops his hold on Marcus and backs away, chest heaving.

You must make a noise as he turns to you, eyes quickly scanning your face before his gaze settles on the hand prints adoring your throat. He’s rushing to you before you know it, gentle hands helping raise you to your feet.

“Can you stand, bug?” Joel whispers, softly turning to check the spot where your head had kissed the payment. Today must be your lucky day, no blood appearing on his fingers after he gently ran them through your hair.

“M’fine, Joel,” you rasp, embarrassment pooling in your stomach. While you were thankful that he came by when he did, you couldn’t help but wish it happened to be anyone else.

Joel sighs, running his hand down his face. “You sure you’re okay?”

“I said I’m fine Joel,” you pull yourself out of his gentle grasp, wrapping your arms around your midsection tightly. You take a few cautious steps back, stumbling but steady enough to walk.

“Let me get you home, angel,” Joel steps forward, hands reaching out to help you. “Ellie’s been askin’ bout you.”

Shaking your head, you continue to take tentative steps away from him. “I can take care of myself, Joel. You don’t have to pretend anymore, remember?”

And with that, you turned on your heels and began to make your way back to the house. You knew he was trailing some feet behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care at the moment. All you wanted to do was crawl into your bed and forget that the night ever even happened.

“It looks like the bruising should heal in a few weeks,” Rick, Jackson’s one and only doctor, assesses, fingers gently pressing against the prominent hand marks on your neck. “The petechiae should clear up within the next few days.”

You nod, readjusting your collar whenever the doctor leans back to scribble down some notes. In the corner of your eye, you see Tommy and Maria share a glance before whispering, as if you weren’t even in the room.

“Any new loss of consciousness? Confusion? Dizzy spells?” Rick asks, pen pausing on the paper.

“Nope,” voice still scratchy but nowhere near as bad as it was a few days ago. “Can I go back on patrol now?”

With a sigh, Rick sets his clipboard down. “Sweetheart, what you went through was a traumatic event. You need to let yourself have time to recuperate mentally too, not just physically.”

“I take that as a no then,” you deflate when the doctor nods.

After answering the rest of Rick’s questions, you’re finally able to leave the infirmary. It seemed like you were there for hours, so to feel the sun on your face whenever you exited felt like sweet relief.

“Y/N,” Maria starts, guilt practically dripping from her.

“Maria, if you apologize one more time, I think I might implode,” you interrupt her, turning to face her. “You didn’t know, I didn’t tell you what he had been saying on patrol. This isn’t your fault.”

“But –”

“No buts,” groaning, you grab her shoulders, giving her a playful shake. “Some drunk asshole’s actions are not your fault. There was no way you could’ve known what would happen.”

“Darlin’, she’s right,” Tommy intervenes. “It’s no one’s fault but the man that did it.”

You hum in agreement, rolling your eyes at the way Maria practically pouts. “Just don’t give me another shitty patrol partner and we can call it even. Okay?”

Maria nods, pulling you into a tight hug. You gently pat her back, knowing the hug is more for her sake than yours, so you allow yourself to enjoy it, just this once.

You’re about to walk away but Tommy stops you, hand gently on your wrist. “Ellie wanted me to tell you to meet her at your house, said she needed help with somethin’.”

“Little shit skipped school again?” You groan. “What would be so important that we have to do it now instead of after dinner?”

Tommy shrugs, smirk playing on his lips. “You really think I'm privy to how she operates?”

“I wish I was,” you mutter, waving your goodbyes before trudging back to your house.

You were going to have to talk to Joel about this. Ellie skipped at least twice a week and you thought the last discussion you had about it got through to her, but apparently not. You understood why she struggled with it, being one of the only outsiders in a building full of kids that had never been outside the walls of Jackson. People looked at you guys funny, you and Joel got it too. Even in the apocalypse, school was important.

After what seemed like an eternity, you crossed the threshold of your home. “Ellie?” you called.

No response.

“Ellie Bellie?” You called again, hanging your coat on the hooks by the door. You knew Joel was on patrol so you began to wander to find the girl.

After checking the entire upstairs, you began to worry.

“Ellie!” You yelled, thundering down the steps and into the kitchen.

“In the basement!” The girl finally responded.

With a breath of relief, you descended the basement steps and found the girl sorting through boxes, various tools of Joel’s spread around her.

“What did we talk about?” You approach, tugging on her ponytail. “No more skipping school, kid.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” she waves you off, pointing to the door behind her. “The water heater is in there, right?”

“How am I supposed to know?” You shrug. “The old man takes care of that stuff.”

Ellie rolls her eyes, grabbing your arm and pulling you towards the door. “Well the stupid fuckin’ thing stopped working and I want Joel to be able to have a hot shower when he gets back from patrol.”

“So call Tommy, Els,” you resist her tugging. “I can’t fix it.”

Pouting, the young girl bats her eyelashes at you, putting on her best puppy dog face. “Please, please, please?”

After a few more seconds of her insistent begging, you cave in. “Fuck, fine. Just stop with the face. Promise you won’t skip school again and I’ll see what I can do?”

“Promise!” Ellie smiles in victory, holding out the worn owner’s manual to you.

You grab the dusty book from her before shouldering the door open, wandering into the room. It’s pitch black and you can’t seem to find the lightswitch.

“Els, where’s the light?” You ask, blinking to try to adjust to the lack of light.

“Don’t be mad, okay?” You hear the girl plead before the lights flicker on and the door slams shut, lock clicking.

A tired looking Joel sits in front of you, one hand handcuffed to the gas line of the water heater. You gape at him, part of you impressed that Ellie was able to get the one up on him.

But then the reality of the situation sets in and you start to bang on the door. “Ellie, open the damn door!”

“You can come out when the two of you work out whatever shit happened,” Ellie’s voice is muffled through the door but her message is loud and clear. A key slides in from under the door. “Unlock him if you want to.”

“Great, just great,” you mutter, forehead resting on the door. “Looks like we’re never going to get out of here.”

You can hear Ellie stomp up the basements and slam the door, off to do god knows what with both of her guardians locked in a room. Turning, you look to see Joel, his eyes watching your movements. You take in his appearance – right hand cuffed to the flimsy gas line of the water heater, left hand resting in his lap, both legs extended in front of him with crossed ankles. Under different circumstances, you would have laughed.

“Would you mind givin’ me that key?” Joel asks, motioning to the key resting on the ground by your feet.

Nodding, you kick the key to him, praising yourself that it slides within reach of him. You watch as he uncuffs himself, rubbing his skin where the cuff adored his wrist. Joel slowly stands, exhaling as he stretches himself up right. Once he’s upright, you take into account his bruised knuckles, undoubtedly from the other night.

The two of you are silent. The tension is palpable – too thick to cut with a knife, maybe even a chainsaw. You watch as Joel awkwardly shifts foot to foot. You can tell that he has a lot on his mind, but you aren’t sure if you want to know what he’s thinking.

You clear your throat, already regretting your next words. “Thank you, by the way.”

Joel nods, staying on his designated side of the small room. “I’d never just let that happen to you, y’know that.”

The awkward silence lasts a few more beats, neither of you know what to say to the other.

“You don’t have to avoid the house and town,” Joel breaks first, clearing his throat. “We can be friends, can’t we?”

“Speak for yourself,” you mutter, turning around to see if the door is actually locked. It is, to your dismay.

“Bug…” Joel starts but the nickname sets you off.

“Can you, like, not call me that?” You snap, whirling around to glare at him. “You lost any and all privilege to that the second you decided to use me for your own personal pleasure. Without regard to how I would feel, may I add?”

Joel scoffs, shaking his head, “I didn’t use you for my ‘own personal pleasure’.”

“Really?” Laughing, you feel insane with how worked up he has got you in one sentence. “Then what exactly did you mean by, and I quote, ‘pretend’.”

Joel opens his mouth to respond, but you cut him off.

“Or what about ‘I’m done with you’?” You step into his space, practically chest to chest. “Because being done with someone doesn’t really leave room for friendship, now does it?”

“That’s not what I meant, y’know that!”

“Do I, Joel? Because it doesn’t feel like it!” You can feel your hands shaking as you shove him back. “You are so hot and cold. You give me fucking whiplash. I can’t stand it! You–”

His lips press against yours, hands settling on your waist to keep you in place. You freeze, the feeling of his mouth moving against yours is a foreign after not feeling it for so long. You feel yourself melting into his arms, your own wrapping around his neck as you kiss him back, lips fusing together as if they were made for each other.

Until you realize what’s happening.

“What’s wrong, bug?” Joel whispers after you throw yourself back, chest heaving.

“You can’t just do that,” your voice shakes and you feel small under his gaze. “You can’t fuck with my feelings like this.”

Joel lets out an aggravated sigh, hands running through his curly locks. “I’m not tryin’ to, sweetheart.”

“Then what are you trying to do, Joel? Because I can’t do the back and forth.” You desperately try to blink away the tears pooling at your eyes. “One minute you want me, the next you don’t. I don’t know what you want from me.”

A tear slips down your cheek.

And all of Joel’s resolve breaks.

“Baby,” he breathes, hands cupping your cheeks as he thumbs away your tears. “I…shit, hold on.”

You wait. You wait as his eyes squeeze closed. As he inhales and exhales deeply. As he shakes his head before looking at you again.

“I love you,” Joel admits. “But I’m no good for you.”

“Joel–”

“Please,” he begs. “I can’t protect you, or Ellie. You saw what happened with the raiders at the university, I almost got the two of you killed because I’m not as young as I once was. I’m not a good man, bug, I’ve done so many bad things that I will never deserve someone like you, no matter what I do now.”

You listen to all of his reasons why he doesn’t think he deserves you. You watch the pain of his past hold him back from ever realizing how much he is worth.

“Is that why you did that?” You ask quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest. “You pushed me away because you think you’re too old for me? Too much of a burden on me?”

Joel nods, tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear.

“But, Joel, those are your reasons,” you breathe. “Your thoughts, your opinions. Not mine.”

He shakes his head. “But–”

“But nothing,” you interrupt. “I love you because of all of that. I love everything about you, your past included, Joel. There is nothing that you could do or say that could ever possibly change that. Why do you think I avoided you for weeks?”

“Because you hated me?”

“Because I couldn’t be around you thinking that I loved you when you hated me.” You laugh, leaning up to briefly press your lips against his. “Next time, how about you talk to me before you make all the decisions?”

Nodding, Joel leans forward and slots his lips against yours. You wrap your arms around his neck, locking your hands together. You feel Joel smile against your lips, a feeling you had missed, before pressing yourself as close to him as possible. Your kisses become more feverish, Joel backing you up against the door as his hands run down your sides to your hips. His hands snake around your waist, lowering themselves to your butt, groaning at the way you react to him.

A loud bang on the door startles the two of you apart.

“As much as I love that the two of you figured it out,” Ellie yells through the door. “I don’t want to hear those noises. Ever.”

A giggle escapes your lips as you hide your face in Joel’s neck, a smile spreads across your lips when you feel his arms encompass your waist.

“Are you decent? Can I let you out now?”

“Yes, Ellie.”

“Thank god,” Ellie unlocks and swings the door open. She smiles seeing the two of you wrapped up together. “I was beginning to think you’d never figure it out.”

Joel shakes his head. “Shut up.”

“You mean ‘you’re welcome’,” Ellie teases before escaping up the stairs, pausing at the top. “Just don’t suck each other's faces around me, got it?”

“Yes ma’am,” you salute her goodbye before turning back to Joel, who is pretending to look annoyed at the teen.

“By the way, how did she manage to handcuff you?”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller #joel #the last of us #m writes

2K notes · View notes

hheaven-sentt · 1 year ago

Text

devotion

summary: because love doesn't quite capture it | leon kennedy x partner!reader

word count: 2.4k

warnings: depictions of injuries, angst if you squint, mentions of alcohol consumption, yearning, mutual pining, partners to friends to lovers

notes: BACK FROM THE DEAD W A VENGEANCE. my semester has finished and my second one doesn't start until january so i will be posting for once. college is kicking my ass like all the time so it puts everything else on pause for me anyway ily all | ao3

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The dress feels itchy against your skin. You don’t want to go to this event, so you can’t imagine how Leon feels. He doesn’t even like when you thank him for doing the dishes, so you wonder how he might behave up on a stage to receive a medal. You stretch behind you, reaching for the zipper. Wordlessly, Leon turns to you and zips it up himself. Of course he does; that’s just Leon.

“This is weird,” he says. It’s barely a whisper, breath dusting over your shoulder as he says it. You nod with a sigh.

“I wouldn’t say weird,” you return. You watch his eyes in the mirror. They hover somewhere on your forehead. “Not normal, but not weird,” “I think it’s weird,” he says, and steps away. You nod again, because what else can you say?

Working with Leon has its ups and downs. He’s too quiet some days, and you have to fill in the gaps yourself. Or he’s too loud–sometimes without even saying anything–and you have to figure out how to deal with it. Or he’s just Leon; he laughs and jokes, he helps cook dinner, he doesn’t talk about work. You like those days the best. Had you seen these versions of Leon when you were assigned to him almost ten years ago, you would’ve laughed. Ten years ago, you couldn’t imagine being this close to someone, to care as much as you do about someone you’re paid to be around.

You suppose there’s layers to it, layers you haven’t fully unraveled yet. You know only a few things for certain: Leon is your partner, he is also your unofficial roommate, and you care about him more than you care about others.

“Are you ready?” he asks. He’s standing in the doorway of the bedroom, the light from the hallway making him look like an angel descending to relay a message from God. You swallow and nod.

“Just need my shoes,” you say, moving to the bed and sliding your shoes across the floor to be in front of you. Leon bends down without a word to help you fasten them.

When he looks up at you, he looks less like your partner and more like someone you’re meant to love. An ache resonates within you, a need to reach out a brush your fingers through his darkened hair. He shifts his gaze to your upper arm. Gingerly, he runs the tips of his fingers over a scar that spans from your elbow to your clavicle. It’s ugly and red, courtesy of the nasty burn you’d sustained there a few years ago. The ridged skin is unfeeling as Leon skirts his hand across it, tracing it from your elbow to your shoulder.

“I remember when you got this,” he says absently. His fingers dance across your skin, and you wish the scar didn’t run so deep so you could feel his ministrations. “Thought I’d lost you,”

He says nothing more, just stands up and offers his hand to you to help you off the bed. You take it, and he hauls you up with ease. He twists out of the room like a ghost. You follow him, like you always do.

The scar is one of a few you’ve come to own. You remember the day you got it, too. For whatever reason, you replay the moment in your head over and over in the taxi on the way to the gala. It makes your skin burn.

It was supposed to be a normal day, a normal mission. Go in, extract, get out. Three simple steps that you had done a hundred thousand times before. Leon stood beside you, always offering to enter a room first. You’ll admit, years removed from the situation, you should’ve been more careful, should’ve listened to what he was saying. But you were so angry at him. You felt weak, unnecessary. You remember shoving past him and through a door you hadn’t known was connected to a trigger. Almost as soon as your boot touched the concrete on the other side of the threshold, your hearing went out. It felt like you were standing miles away from a nuclear blast, and you had felt the effects of the delayed shockwave. You were knocked to the ground in an instant, but you didn’t feel pain–not yet at least. When you woke up in the hospital a day later, Leon was asleep in the chair beside you.

“Don’t ever do that to me again,” he’d said. You vowed not to.

“Do you think they’ll at least have an open bar?” he says now, drawing you back into the world. You turn away from the window of the cab to look at him. He’s staring at his hands, forcing a small smile.

“They better,” you say, reaching over and settling a hand on his shoulder. He looks at you. “It’s the only reason I’m going,”

This turns his smile genuine, and he even offers an eyeroll. You squeeze his shoulder, bracelets jingling with the motion. His eyes are on you, and you feel as hot as fresh sin. You hate this; hate that he makes you feel this way, hate that he is so beautiful, hate that you can’t seem to shake this deep seated love you harbor for him. You miss him when he looks away and you remove your hand.

The gala is overwhelming. Leon stays near you, hand hovering near your own. You wish he would reach out and take it. You debate the consequences of doing it yourself.

Breath hot on the shell of your ear, Leon whispers, “You think our taxes went into this?”

You suppress a laugh, tightening your lips into a thin line to fight a smile. “I wouldn’t be surprised, but I’ll pretend like this was all donated,”

“You can consider taxes a donation if you really think about it,” he says, gliding across the floor with you toward an empty table. You snort.

“I think that depends on what your definition of donation is,” you say. He pulls out your chair for you before pushing it in, then takes his own seat beside you. His legs are angled toward you like he only plans on talking to you.

“I think you underestimate my ability to bend definitions to suit my needs,” he says. You laugh again.

You like this version of Leon, and you know that it won’t last very long so you should hold onto it while it’s here. An old jazz song rings out from the speakers across the hall, and the lights catch his eyes just right. They’re really blue, as true blue as blue gets. They’re your favorite shade of blue. If you could paint your living room that color, you would. It’s a soft blue, like the crest of a wave blue, like the sky just after dawn blue, like two perfect oceans set into his skull. There’s a hairline scar that runs between the crows feet of his left eye, one you ache to reach out and trace.

That’s the best way to describe how you feel when you look at Leon: aching. It’s desperation, an aching need to touch and hold. It’s not exactly love, but you don’t have another word for it. Maybe devotion? Looking at him feels like the first time a child sees a kitten. You’re like me, soft and lovable, and we should stay together.

“Have you listened to anything I’ve said in the last few minutes?” Leon asks, putting a hand on your knee that brings you back to the gala. You suck in a breath and shake your head. He smiles wide. “Quit staring at me, makes me feel like I’ve got something on my face,”

“You’re pretty,” you say before you can stop yourself. Maybe pretty is the wrong word, but you don’t know what the right one would be. He’s handsome, sure, but handsome doesn’t encapsulate the way his lashes flutter against his cheekbones or the way he blushes when you smile at him. “Sorry,”

He’s grinning now, giving your knee a squeeze. “You flatter me,”

An hour later, and he’s being called up on stage by your director, who intends to decorate him. You’re beaming with pride, even though you know Leon is dreading this moment. He stumbles across the stage. Cameras are flashing, and you can almost see Leon cringe between photos. He’s off the stage a few minutes later, heading straight for you. You grin more, knowing that he’s choosing to seek solace in you, in your company. He wraps you in a stiff hug that loosens as it endures. You laugh into his shoulder.

“Don’t let me do anything heroic ever again,” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck. You bark a laugh.

“Yeah, okay,” you agree. “I’ll make sure to step in next time,”

In an act that surprises you, Leon tugs you toward the dance floor. You must look wildly confused because he explains, “Just this once. Just one dance,”

You agree, not that you could deny even if you wanted to. He’s looking at you like you’re someone he’s meant to love, like you’re more than just his partner. His hand slots against the curve of your waist like it was made specifically to be there. He’s warm and smiling, and you think maybe he’s had a bit too much champagne. But you like him like this. Who knows when you’ll see him like this again? You stare at him, intent to memorize his features and the way the light catches on the bridge of his nose.

“You’re staring again,” he whispers. You smile sheepishly.

“Never seen you like this,” you reply. He bows his head to chuckle. “Not sure I’ll ever get the chance to again,”

“I’m sure you will,” he says. “You’re the one who brings it out of me,”

You roll your eyes. “I’m more convinced it’s all the free champagne we’ve been drinking,”

“You can believe whatever you want, sweetness,” he says, spinning you. “I’m telling you the truth,”

You’re both giggly and joking the whole way home. Leon has you wheezing about something you can’t remember as you step into the apartment. Tears rest at the corners of your eyes. You shove him playfully. He follows you from room to room like a puppy, making you giggle and flash a smile as you clean up for the night.

You crash onto the bed, warm and light from the night, and reach to take off your shoes. Leon stands in the doorway, watching you. The light from the hallway gives him a halo. Your feet ache as you release them from their prisons, and you glance up to see Leon smiling at you. You return it with the cock of one of your brows.

“You’re pretty,” he says by way of explanation. You feel heat snake up your body. His hands are stuffed into his pockets, hair slightly messy from where he’s run his hands through it, and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone. If you weren’t as shy as you are, you’d probably move to touch him.

Instead, you huff a laugh and toss your shoes to the floor. “You flatter me,”

When you stand and begin to move around him, he grabs your elbow. “I mean it,”

Perhaps, in another life, you would see this as a win. The man you’ve spent most of your life following around and yearning for seemingly returns your affections, and you are about to deny him. Admitting it out loud makes it real, makes it mean something. What happens the next time something goes wrong out there? The next time he does something heroic? Everything will be much too real, and much harder to bury. You blink at him, looking at him for what feels like the very first and last time. He’s still Leon; scruffy stubble, blue eyes, and warmth. He’s still Leon, teetering on being your Leon, and you’re not going to let that happen. You, again, are going to deny yourself from what you want.

“What are you thinking?” he asks, voice barely above a whisper. You take in a shaky breath. He’s still holding you, but his touch is a ghost on your flesh.

“Leon, I don’t know-”

“You know that one Frank Sinatra song?” he interrupts. You gape at him.

“Why did you ask if you won’t let me answer?” you huff, crossing your arms over your chest. He returns his hands to his pockets.

“Predicted where it was going, figured I’d circumvent it,” he admits, the corner of his lips turning upward slightly. “The song he sings with his wife?”

You shrug. “Maybe? What’s your point?”

“I love you,” he says. Your body goes cold. “That could be the stupidest thing I’ve ever said, but I feel like you should know that before you make whatever decision you’re about to make,”

Your face breaks out into a grin, and you laugh in spite of yourself. “I’m sure you’ve said stupider,”

Whatever worry was on Leon’s face dissolves, and a real, full smile splits across his lips. He takes your face in his hands. He holds you delicately, like you’d break under the slightest pressure. To be fair, you feel like glass at the moment–if glass could have legs made of rubber.

“This makes it real,” you say. He swallows. “No going back, no forgetting, no pretending. When something happens, it will be real,”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” he whispers. “It’s worked out for us so far,”

You’re not sure who closes the space first, but it matters little after it’s happened. His lips are gentle and giving against your own. Your hands splay against his sides, using his suit jacket to pull him closer. His hands wind into your hair. There’s a desperation behind his movements, one you’re all too familiar with. After what feels like hours, he breaks from you, leaning his forehead against yours. His breathing is labored, you can feel it in his strong chest beneath your hands.

“This is real,” he says.

“We take risks for a living,” you say. He opens his eyes to peek at you through his lashes. “What’s one more right?”

He grins and kisses you again.

#leon kennedy x reader #my fics #m writes #resident evil #x reader #partner!reader #resident evil fanfic #leon kennedy #id leon kennedy

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