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souliebird · 7 months ago

Text

[[and then I met you || ch. 18]]

Series: Daredevil || Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader || Rating: Explicit

Summary:

A one-night stand years ago gave you a daughter and you are now able to put a name to her father – Matthew Murdock. Everything is about to change again as you navigate trying to integrate your life with that of the handsome and charming blind lawyer’s and Matt realizes he needs to not only protect his new family from Hell's Kitchen, but from the world.

chapter masterlist

Words: 3.7k

ao3 link

banner thanks to the wonderful @theradioactivespidergwen

warning: canon typical violence || vomit

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight. Lead me out on the moonlit floor, lift your open hand - Strike up the band and make the fireflies dance, silver moon's sparkling. So, kiss me.”

You hum along with the song playing quietly in your ear as you scrub the bathtub. It is one of your cleaning nights and you are focused on getting everything back to tip-top shape. The tub currently has a bit of a purple tint to it after you tried a new brand of bubble bath for Minnie - you are lucky she isn’t now grape flavored as well - and you would very much like it gone. It is coming off easier than you expected, but it is taking a fair amount of elbow grease.

It is easy to space out and listen to music as you work. Your cleaning playlist are songs you can vibe to that you don’t really associate with anything in your life - mostly you think about the movies the song has been featured in - but you are finding, as you scrub and romantic lyrics float through your head, a certain name and face keeps appearing in your mind’s eye.

You know it isn’t wise for you to develop a crush on Matt - just because you have a daughter together does not mean he wants to kiss you. You know you need to squash the feelings down before you get yourself hurt.

But sometimes it is nice to have silly impossible daydreams while you are cleaning alone at ten at night. Having a goofy little smile while you picture yourself spinning around a garden in a dance isn’t hurting anyone. You have a good grasp on reality - you just sometimes want to pretend to be the lead in a cheesy 90’s teen romcom - is that too much to ask?

No one else needs to know Matt has replaced the lead actor. It is a secret just for you.

As you scrub bleach powder around your purple-haze tub drain, you catch movement reflecting in the shine of the spout. You can’t hear anything over your music - even though you only have one earbud in - so you sit up and turn around. Of course, it is Minnie standing in the doorway, clad in her jammies, and dragging Scooby by his big paw.

You pull the earbud out, frowning to your daughter, “Is everything alright, Mouse? Is my music too loud? Did it wake you up?”

She shakes her head, then in the most miserable voice you have ever heard from her, whines, “My tummy hurts.”

Instantly, you set down your sponge and your earbud so you can go to your daughter, “your tummy hurts?”

You move to pick her up, wanting to comfort her, but it is made clear she doesn’t want this by stepping back and holding up her toy between the two of you. It hurts, but it passes, as you know you don’t like to be touched when you feel sick, so instead, you kneel down to be in front of her and try to find the root of the problem.

“How does your tummy hurt?”

She sways side to side, face scrunching up as she self-analyzes. You can see the little wheels turning in her head, but then there is a very subtle shift in her eyes that only years of being a mother makes you notice. With lightning speed, you grab Minnie under her arms and spin around to hold her over the toilet just as her dinner begins to regurgitate.

Your heart breaks as she empties her stomach and you try to soothe her the best you can, rubbing her little back as she coughs and hacks.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, get it all out. Get all the icky out,” you tell her.

Luckily, her stomach is small and there is not a lot of expel. Once you are sure she is done, you flush the toilet then close the lid, intent on setting Minnie down so you can clean her up, but of course, now she doesn’t want to be put down. She wiggles and turns until she can bury her head into your neck, sniffling and hiccupping, and clinging to you the best she can.

You can feel bits of vomit on your neck, but since you aren’t completely covered in it, you try to ignore it in favor of your distressed daughter. You begin to rock her gently, humming one of her favorite lullabies as she processes how distressing throwing up is.

You don’t remember when the last time she got sick was, but you have a guess as to what caused this upset - you tried a new ice cream for dessert tonight. It had made your stomach a bit gurgly and you had solved that with a TUMS.

It hadn’t occurred to you to ask if Minnie needed one, too.

A lesson for the future.

Minnie doesn’t dissolve into full on tears and after about two minutes, she pulls back and croaks out, “‘cooby?”

She had dropped the toy when you had first picked her up, so you stretch to grab him for her. She quickly switches to clinging to him and you go right for a washcloth. You wipe down your neck first - you can only handle so much - then start on cleaning up your poor Mouse.

In a blessing from the gods, she only has a little bit of gunk around her mouth and nose. It doesn’t seem like anything got on her clothes.

Getting her to rinse her mouth out takes a bit of convincing.

“It will help the icky taste go away,” you promise, but she just clamps her mouth shut and shakes her head. You very much get why she wouldn’t want anything in her mouth after throwing up, but you also know she needs a good rinse. She only gives in after you demonstrate what you want of her by brushing your teeth and gargling some water. However, the condition is that you have to brush her teeth for her while she squeezes Scooby for dear life.

Once her mouth is clean and the only sign she was ever sick is her puffy red eyes, you scoop up your baby and bring her out to the living room.

“How does your tummy feel now?” you ask as you set her on the couch and begin to cocoon her in the throw blanket you keep there.

Minnie rests her head on top of Scooby’s, lip jutting out into a pout, “Icky. And Hurty.”

“Icky and hurty?” You sympathize. You know well the aftermath of throwing up and how sometimes the aftermath is worse than the event - your stomach often turns sour and you feel drained. You know certain fluids will help relieve this, so you kiss Mouse’s forehead and tell her, “Let me see if we have any things to help.”

“Blue Pedi-lyte?” she asks and you can’t help but smile over how observant and smart your little one is. She may not have thrown up in recent memory - but other digestive problems have occurred, and she clearly remembers enough that the drink helped.

“Yeah. Let me go see if we have any, okay? Do you want to put on some Mickey?”

“Goofy,” is her quick, but mumbled reply.

You turn on the television and bring up some Goofy related shorts, then head to the kitchen, hoping you have some old Pedialyte.

But you don’t.

You have leftover drinks Karen brought you and the only thing that is comparable to what you promised Minnie is yellow Gatorade. However, you have nothing to turn it blue. You have the feeling that trying to give it to your little one is not going to go well, but you try, nonetheless. You fill a sippy cup halfway with yellow liquid and mentally cross yourself as you bring it to Mouse on the couch.

She takes one look at it before pouting at you, “That’s yellow.”

“I know, sweetie. But we don’t have any blue Pedialyte. We only have yellow Gatorade. It will help your tummy, too.”

To her credit, she takes it and holds it in her lap, looking down at it with disdain. She opens and closes her mouth a few times, then wrinkles up her nose and holds the cup back up to you, “It’s stinky.”

You try to not sigh - lemon-lime is an intense flavor and probably won’t taste the best after vomiting, but it is all you have. You crouch down so you are eye level with your daughter and rub her leg, trying to be encouraging, “I know, but it will help your tummy. Can you try for me?”

She looks between you and the cup about fifteen times, her little eyes full of doubt, before bringing it up to her mouth and taking a sip. She does not swallow - instead she looks disgusted before opening her mouth and letting the drink spill down her chin.

“Oh, no, no, let’s not do that,” you groan. You use your t-shirt - which is luckily your cleaning shirt and gross anyways - to wipe her face and soak up the yellow liquid.

“Icky,” Mouse informs you, then adds, “I want blue Pedi-lyte. Please?”

You take in your daughter, looking so tiny wrapped up on the couch. How awful it must be to not only be nauseous, but to be so with enhanced senses. You’ve thrown up enough times to know what an unpleasant aftertaste it leaves, so she must be so miserable.

You rub your hands over your face and give in, “Okay, let Mommy go change into real people clothes, and we will go get some for you.”

----

You are no stranger to midnight runs to the bodega two blocks west. You had moved into your current apartment when you were about six months pregnant, and you had spent month seven waddling your way there almost every night for a slice of cake. The late-night cashier, Sal, practically watched Minnie grow up and he is one of the few people who she will talk to unprompted. So, you don’t feel embarrassed when you stroll in wearing sweatpants and a band-tank top, with Minnie still in her jammies - Sal has seen you in worse states and at least you aren’t wearing a robe and slippers.

There’s a couple of college aged boys lingering around the snacks section who smell heavily of marijuana, and they seem more interested in talking about what chips to get than anything, so only your hyper paranoid mind makes you take notice as you make your way to the drink coolers. You pass all the fun things and go to the very back corner of the storefront where the small selection of medicinal goods are.

Tampons, Tylenol, and band aids are stacked low on the dry goods shelf, and across from them, practically on the floor of the cooler, is one row of Pedialyte. The gods must be smiling on you because it is indeed the blue flavor your daughter is desiring.

You open the cooler, and with Minnie on your hip, squat down to retrieve your prize. Almost instantly, she starts making grabby hands for it, asking with a bit of a whine, “Mommy, open it.”

“We have to pay for it first, then you can drink it,” you remind her, feeling guilty as you do. You can see the upset in her eyes, and to try and mitigate the damage, you offer, “Do you want to help buy it?”

Mouse, always the eager helper, nods against you, so you hand over the drink, stand, and start making your way to the counter. The stoned boys are debating which chips will leave the least amount of residue on their gaming controllers as you pass them and part of you wants to stop and listen. You don’t have an interest in video games beyond silly ones on your phone, but their passion is intense, and you agree Cheeto dust is one of the worst things in the world. You are lucky Minnie finds them gross and much prefers pretzels as her chip of choice.

As you come up to the checkout, Sal looks up from his phone and gives you a pleasant smile, “Late night snack run?”

Minnie pipes up before you can, leaning forward as far as she can to hold out the bottle towards him, “I wanna buy this, please, thank you.”

Sal, ever kind, reaches across the counter to get it so you don’t have to try to lean in, “Ahhh, no snacks. Tummy troubles?”

“Tummy troubles,” you confirm. You dig into your purse for your wallet as he begins to ring you up.

Sal clicks his tongue in sympathy, before telling you, “My daughter, Sasha, the tall one, she always had the tummy troubles, too. Turns out, she was allergic to corn. Do you know how much corn is in everything in America?”

You make a face at that because you do, in fact, know how much corn is in everything. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

In your arms, always wanting to mimic you, Minnie gives a solemn nod to Sal, “Sorry to hear.”

Sal laughs warmly, “You are kind. I hope your tummy troubles are not from corn, but too many sweets.”

That makes Mouse giggle, which warms your heart. When you are told the total, you hand her your card to hand over to Sal. The sweet man swipes it, then addresses Minnie, “Debit or credit?”

Despite not knowing what that means, she instantly replies with, “Credit!” making you smile all the more.

“Yes, we will charge it,” he says. The receipt prints and he hands that and the card back to you before bagging the Pedialyte in a little black baggie and handing that to Minnie. “Your purchase, little ma’am.”

“Thank you!” she chimes, and you thank Sal as well. The college boys have finally decided on their snack, so you vacate the counter so they can make their purchase, wishing the cashier a good rest of his night.

As you exit the bodega, Minnie bonks your arm with the bagged bottle, “Mommy, open it now. We buyed it.”

“Okay, okay.”

You set her down on the ground, then get the bottle out so you can crack it open. You help your little one take a few careful sips and once she is done, she smacks her lips.

“Not icky?” You ask and she gives a big nod in response.

“Not icky.”

“How is your tummy?”

Her fist goes right into her mouth as she thinks over the question. You use the time to recap the drink and drop it back into the bag, then put that into your purse.

“It feels like jumping dinosaurs,” Mouse finally tells you, “Going ‘bah bah bah’. Like sheepies.”

You have no idea what that is supposed to mean, but you guess that she feels better. She seems more chipper, which isn’t what you need closing in on midnight. If you don’t get home soon and get her back into bed, you are going to have a very grumpy toddler in the morning.

Which will go great with your expected grumpiness - you still have to finish cleaning the bathroom and who knows how long that is going to take. You’ll need to redo the toilet and throw a load of laundry into the wash. You’ll probably get to bed around two if you are lucky.

So, with the complete intention of tiring your daughter out, you ask her, “Do you want to walk back home holding Mommy’s hand?”

Which completely does the trick and Minnie takes your hand so you can walk back home together, and you begin heading that way.

Despite being the city that never sleeps, the streets around you are pretty empty. You haven’t come across any other foot traffic and you’ve only seen a few cars roll by, so to you, it seems like a quiet night.

You wonder if that is how Minnie sees it - or in her case - hears it.

It has been mind boggling learning her range of hearing and how much input she must constantly receive.

Matt is still working on making you his binder - Karen has apparently taken to copy editing it - but he has given you a preview of a few pages and you can barely comprehend it. You think you would go insane if you could hear everyone talking all at once, all the time. Your anxiety would be astronomical, but your sweet Mouse doesn’t seem bothered in day-to-day life.

You’ve been watching her play more and more and you’ve been learning what catches her attention and interests. To your surprise, it has been music. The little wiggles and shakes she sometimes does is apparently her interpretation of dancing and you have been making her a little playlist for her birthday. You think a dance party would be a fun thing to do the night before the zoo trip, to help get out all her energy. You haven’t told her this yet, but you did ask her to let you know when she hears a song she wants to dance to, so you can look into it.

You don’t want to add anything inappropriate after all.

You look down at your daughter as you walk, a little smile coming to your face. She’s watching her feet, and it looks like she’s trying to step on her own shadow without making a big deal of it. You’ve seen her do that before or try to walk one foot in front of the other. You aren’t the fastest walker - you tend to stroll - so you never worry about her games slowing you down.

Plus, if it wears her out, all the better for you.

You are about half a block away from your building when Minnie suddenly halts and whirls her head back towards the bodega. Curious, you stop as well, wondering what she has heard now.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“There’s a hoot-hoot!” She whisper-yells, looking up to you with the biggest, purest smile.

Your heart practically bursts from your chest with love and your smile grows to match hers, “A hoot-hoot? Can you tell me about the hoot-hoot?”

She nods, then you watch in slow motion as your daughter’s absolute joy morphs into that of horror and before you can even process what is happening, something is ripping you away from Minnie by the base of your neck.

You are pivoted left and slammed face first into the brownstone staircase you were just walking by. Your vision goes spotty as pain erupts from the center of your forehead - confusion and panic begin to consume you.

All you can hear is your daughter screaming in fear.

You have no idea what is going on, but all you know is Minnie needs you, and that ignites something deep and primal in your chest.

There is something grabbing and pulling at your top and your purse - which you wear crossbody - and you realize someone is trying to mug you. Fear fills you as you struggle to get away, break free, but whoever it is is stronger than you and keeps slamming you back against the stone.

“Mommy!”

The thing inside your chest bursts to life when you hear Minnie cry for you and you kick backwards best you can, trying to dislodge your attacker. Your foot catches their knee and both of you go tumbling to the ground. You hit the cement hard only to be crushed under the weight of your assailant as they land on top of you.

You refuse to stay still, squirming and trying to army crawl out from under the mugger, but they easily overpower you. Hands wrap around your throat from behind and you are temporarily overwhelmed by the stench of body odor and filth. You are pressed down into the sidewalk for a split second before being yanked back and you just barely manage to turn your face as you are violently forced back down again. Gravel and glass tear at your cheek.

Something tangles itself into your hair and your head is once again being pulled back, but you won’t give up. You reach back over your head and grab onto the arm of the person attacking you. You feel flesh, so you curl your fingers and dig your nails in the best you can.

There is a feral, pained yowl, then your head meets the ground again, but it doesn’t stop. They are trying to push you down into the sidewalk using all their weight, like they are trying to crush your skull.

You kick and buck as hard as you are able to, thrashing desperately in an attempt to break away. The pain is quickly becoming all encompassing, but Minnie is crying, and you need to get to her.

You try to get an arm under you, to try and help to push you up, but there is so much weight and all of it is centered on your upper back and skull.

You can’t get up.

You can’t get to Minnie.

You can’t save your daughter.

There is a deep and furious roar, then the crushing weight of your attacker is ripped off of you.

You gasp for breath as you quickly roll onto your side, terrified you're going to be pushed back into the dirt and smothered. Your vision is swimming, blurry and half black, and everything, everything hurts.

“DADDY!”

Your eyes snap open and you try to push yourself up onto shaky arms. You try to turn around to find your daughter, but your body doesn’t want to obey anymore, and you collapse back onto the ground. You force your legs to move the best you can, trying to roll until you can find your daughter.

“Minnie..” you try to call out but you aren’t sure if any noise escapes your lips.

“Mommy!”

The darkness wraps itself around you and begins to drag you down into its depths. The last thing your mind catches before it switches off is your little Mouse, screaming for you.

“MOMMY!”

“MOMMY!!”

---

:3C

---

tags:

@midnightreids @cloudroomblog @yeonalie @thychuvaluswife

@petrovafire39 @ghostindeath

@allllium

@anehkael

@nennia-2000 @seasonofthenerd @abucketofweird @mattmurdockstateofmind @imagineswritersblog @hazelhavoc @smile-child-13 @allst4rsfall @hashcakes @kezibear @mapleaye @sammanna @gamingfeline @moon-glades @nightwitherspring @phoenix666stuff @dare-devil

@ladyoflynx @hobiebrowns-wife @sarcasm-n-insomnia @lillycore

@dorothleah @mattmurdocksstarlight @mars-on-vinyl @mywellspringoflife @sleepdeprived-barelyalive @simmilarly @soupyspence @darkened-writer @akila-twt

@murc0ckmurc0ck @groovycass @sumo-b98 @just3rowsing @tongueofcat @zoom1374

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@mrs-bellingham @eugene-emt-roe @cometenthusiast @stevenknightmarc @yes-im-your-mom @hunnybelha @actorinfluence @capbrie @prowlingforfood @jupitervenusearthmars

Specialagentjackbauer @yarrystyleeza @ofmusesandsecrets

@mayp11-blog @danzer8705 @thinking-at-dusk @remuslupinwifee @akila-twt @nommingonfood@mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @dil3mma @allllium

two-unbeatable-beaters @kiwwia-wiwwia @1988-fiend @xblueriddlex @loves0phelia @ninacotte @lovelyygirl8 @littlenosoul @ednaaa-04 @ astridstark13

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@starry-night-20 @rebeccapineapple @writtenbyred @cherrypie5 @capswife @silvercharacterchaos @resting-confused-face

#soulie writes #fanfiction #daredevil #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you

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steddieas-shegoes · 8 months ago

Text

my body is my weapon

for @steddieholidaydrabbles popup event for 'spring'

rated t | 734 words | cw: canon-typical violence, mild blood | tags: self-sacrificing steve, hurt/comfort, getting together

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

Steve was good at this, springing up from nowhere, nail bat in hand, ready to protect his found family. It was a natural instinct at this point.

Didn't matter the cost, didn't matter if he was the only one willing. If Vecna wanted to take someone, he could take him.

With Eddie barely recovered from his first bout in the Upside Down, Max still in a coma, and Lucas being glued to her side to make sure nothing happened, the crew was a little short staffed.

But Steve would make sure that didn't matter.

They prepared as much as they could, which wasn't nearly as much as they should. Vecna was strong, stronger than they expected him to be, and his creatures were wearing them down before he even came to fight.

But El was stronger.

As Steve lay on the ground, bleeding more than he ever had before, certain of his life being over, he thought about every time he'd put himself in front of the kids.

He had no regrets, but he wished it could've played out differently.

Hands on his shoulders made him open his eyes, but his vision was blurry and his head was pounding. Probably another concussion.

"You don't get to die."

Eddie? How was he- why was he here? He was supposed to stay topside to call for help the moment he was signaled.

Maybe Steve was delusional in his last moments. Eddie mentioned that he was hallucinating from the blood loss when it happened to him.

"Steve. Keep your eyes on me," Eddie's voice was panicked. "God, you always have to spring into action, huh? Can't wait ten seconds for someone to help."

"Ed."

Steve could make out the outline of his head, but not details.

"'S what 'm good for."

"That's bullshit."

And then everything went black.

Steve's only thought was that he wished the last things he heard weren't those words.

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

His head was pounding again, and the incessant beeping surrounding him wasn't helping.

"If it hurts, don't open your eyes."

The voice sounded an awful lot like Eddie.

"Mm. Thirsty," Steve whispered.

"I got you," Eddie's hand was on the back of his head, gently lifting, while the other must have been holding a cup of room temperature water to his lips. "Little sips."

Steve didn't think much of what was going on. If this was the afterlife, at least he had someone taking care of him.

🟩🟩🟩🟩🟩

The next time Steve was conscious, his head wasn't pounding and he could tell the room around him was dark.

He opened his eyes, slowly taking in the hospital room.

Eddie was asleep in the chair next to his bed.

He looked uncomfortable.

Steve tried to shift onto his side, but a lightning bolt of pain shot from his shoulder to his knee, and he couldn't quite contain the gasp he let out.

Eddie's eyes shot open as he stood from the chair, leaning over Steve to see what hurt.

"Shit, are you okay?" Eddie asked as his hands hovered over Steve's heavily wrapped up body.

"Mhm. Jus' hurt," Steve managed to say, his voice raspy. "How?"

"How long have you been out?" Eddie waited for Steve's nod to continue. "First bit was about three days, then you woke up for a minute yesterday."

"Alive?"

"Yeah," Eddie's tone shifted to something more serious, darker. "But no thanks to you. You're good for a lot more than standing in front of monsters, Stevie. You know that, right?"

Steve shrugged one shoulder. "Kinda."

Eddie's hands gently cupped his face, eyes softening as Steve focused on him.

"You're more than a weapon. You're more than an expendable body. You understand me?" Eddie's voice shook as Steve gave a short nod. "You're my world. I can't see my world end."

"I am?"

"Despite my best efforts of trying to move on from the stupid crush I had on you, yeah," Eddie sighed. "Nursed me back to health and made me fall in love with you."

"Not bullshit?" Steve's eyes felt heavy, but he had to fight it, had to have this talk with Eddie before he passed out again.

"Never. You're everything, Steve Harrington. And when you can keep your eyes open for more than two minutes, I'm gonna kiss you so hard it bruises."

Steve smiled as his eyes closed.

Eddie's hands carried him out of hell and into forever.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddieholidaydrabbles #pop up event #spring #cw: canon typical violence #cw: mild blood #hurt/comfort #getting together

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hufflefluff-stuff · 1 year ago

Note

hi! i was wondering if you could write how HL characters would act when they are jealous

Yes! Also, I'll add how these characters wind up confessing to their crush! 👍

Characters: Sebastian, Garreth, Ominis, Poppy, & Leander

......

Sebastian Sallow

Let's be fr..this guy gets jealous INSANELY easily in canon, even when platonically speaking.

It's hard to pinpoint where he exactly started catching feelings for you, but he certainly fell for you fast after your adventure into the library's restricted section.

Unfortunately, because of your growing reputation as a "hero" around Hogwarts, Hogsmede, and other hamlets...you've have strangers and students alike often come up to you and interrupt your conversations with Sebastian.

They mean well, only showing up to compliment you or thank you for some favor you've done for them.

But still it puts him in an sour mood, especially if he's unable to do anything about it without coming off as a prissy Slytherin.

During classes, he feels 10x worse if he's not partnered with you and instead sees you with classmates he views as "competition"...like Garreth, Leander, or even Amit, scowling at them in envy and unable to focus unless the professor specifically calls him out on it.

The only exception is Ominis, since he's a trusted friend and damn well knew his crush on you (he has certainly used this as blackmail to stop him from doing stupid stuff) but Sebastian will still huff about how "close" you two are growing.

Sometimes his jealousy gets so bad he needs to go blow off some steam in the Undercroft, casting damage spells on whatever poor dummy, pillar, or knight armor happened to be in his way.

It's nothing that Repairo couldn't fix.

While your assistance in his quest to find a cure for Anne was extremely important to him, that's not the only reason he brings you along for the ride.

He genuinely enjoys your company, and it's his chance to actually be alone with you and talk without any rude interruptions.

Well...there's trolls, rankrok's loyalists, spiders, ashwinders, Inferi, etc....but none of them are annoying students who try to hog all your attention just to spite him.

Aside from Ominis, Anne keeps encouraging her twin brother to make some move if he's that jealous (which Sebastian repeatedly denies).

Sooner or later...he may lose that chance, and he fears this. But he never knew when the moment would come..

Then one night, you were both fighting poachers and their leader, an Animagus, insulted him so horribly that it made his confident expression drop for a moment--as did his Protego shield.

You didn't hear what she said exactly, but his devastated face told you enough and you were pissed.

So you rained down a torrent of ancient magic lightning before she can even think of transforming.

Sebastian could only watch as you smite her like some furious god unleashing your wrath on the world, finding you both badass and ethereal.

When it's all over, you rushed to his side and ask if he's okay--but he just kisses you right there and then, silencing you.

He's so sick of waiting.

Garreth Weasley

His jealousy is nowhere near as bad as Sebastian's...but it's still there. Just subtle.

He pouts a lot when somebody steals your attention away, and he tries way too hard to impress you with whatever brilliant potion concept he drafted up (and definitely didn't have approval to brew in class under any circumstances).

Speaking of which, you're his usual partner in potions class, so he'll be highly disappointed if Professor Sharp decides to pair you with somebody else that day.

Garreth feels this sting in his heart if he overhears you praising them for their perfect brew, while he stares into his bubbling cauldron and sulks, wondering what he could've done differently.

He didn't know how you truly felt about him, so he got the genius idea to cook up a love potion the day you had a substitute for class (he sat at the furthest station and had secretly gathered the ingredients beforehand).

Just as you were about to try it for yourself, he accidentally knocked an incompatible ingredient into the pot and caused its contents to explode, staining both of your robes in pink.

While everybody laughed, the sub made the stains vanish with some magic and decided to dismiss class early, making you two stay behind to clean up the mess.

Luckily only house points were deducted due to your actions, so you won't be getting detention for this.

Still...Garreth was quite upset and you could tell.

You reassure him you're not mad in the slightest, and that you knew exactly what he was trying to do (followed by a small wink before continuing your cleanup).

His face turned as red as a maxima potion, and when he returns to the Gryffindor common room for the night, he gets confused stares from his fellow housemates as they wonder what's gotten into him.

But he can't stop thinking about you.

Maybe you ingested droplets of the love potion after it exploded, since you did seem particularly flirtatious with him in that moment and knew his intentions.

Looks like he got his wish after all.

Now to ask you out properly..

Ominis Gaunt

He's not an easily jealous guy. He'll never get angry at other people for simply wanting to spend time with you or if you're partners with them in class.

You've made a name for yourself at Hogwarts, and while he doesn't always agree with the dangerous stuff you get involved with, he only expects people to look up to you and pull your attention away from him.

Though deep down, it kinda hurts...especially since quite a handful of students from other houses perceive him as someone you shouldn't be around (some Gryffindors with "holier than thou" personalities even had the guts to say you're better off without him when he's standing right there).

Being a Gaunt + a Slytherin had that effect, unfortunately...

But he's sick of hearing that all the time.

Anyone else would've snapped at whoever criticized them based on blood status or rudely interrupted a conversation they're clearly having with you.

Yet when he does it..suddenly he's the bad guy?

It never made sense.

So any jealous feelings Ominis has stem from his own insecurities, and they grow even worse the more he realizes he's in love with you..

Like Sebastian, he'd probably storm off to the Undercroft to calm down if he's feeling heavily upset.

Fortunately, you're quick to defend him and decline other people's advances, saying you'd much rather hang out with him.

When you nearly got into a wand duel/fistfight over something insulting they said about him, that's when he realizes you cared about him as more than a friend...

Though he wanted to test the waters, so to speak, before hyping himself up to confess to you.

So throughout the week, Ominis expressed subtle desires to be in closer proximity to you (which you were fine with despite being initially confused at his sudden change in behavior)

These are, but not limited to, linking arms while walking in the hallways, napping beside you while you were reading or petting a random cat, "accidentally" falling asleep on your shoulder in History of Magic, and letting you guide him through assignments in herbology and potions class so he took the correct measurements (his grades improved, which is always a plus).

It takes a little bit of encouragement from Sebastian, but by the week's end, he courts you in one of his favorite spots outside the castle, gathering flowers, candles, and everything.

You truly made him feel loved..and he was going to do his best to reciprocate that.

How he wishes he could see the looks on those Gryffindor preps' faces when they realize the "hero of Hogwarts" is his date.

Poppy Sweeting

Considering how little she spoke to other students, even ones from her own house, this Hufflepuff found it difficult to get close to you at first.

You being hailed as a "hero" made it especially challenging, as you seemed constantly busy and people were bugging you for attention/advice/help....all while Poppy was standing in the background, forcing a smile.

Of course, you always made time to help her rescue beasts. It became your passion, and she was happy about that. Your adventures together allowed you to connect on an emotional level.

The moment she knew she was in love was the night when you both observed a Mooncalf dance, trying to make sense of the pattern those sweet big-eyed creatures left behind.

No matter how many times you've seen them, their dances are spectacular--ever captivating.

But when Poppy asked for your opinion on the pattern she drew out, she stops after seeing your breathtaking smile, eyes practically sparkling in the glow of the moonlight..

And suddenly that's all she could focus on.

Suddenly that was the most beautiful thing in the world.

Since then, her jealousy around other students has increased tenfold...especially when one jerk who disrespected beasts bragged about their poacher parents and invited you to visit their camp.

You've never seen a girl Depulso another student so fast in your life, but Poppy acts like nothing ever happened.

Similar to Sebastian, her jealousy manifests in the form of glares and general scorn towards anyone trying to ask you out on a date (which you, fortunately, decline).

She 100% rambles to the beasts about you.

If Highwing and Lord of the Shore could talk, they'd tell her to just stfu and confess to you already bc the tension is killing them.

It only (finally) happens when you invite her to the Vivarium for the first time, and they both nudge you two together, not backing down until you finally kiss.

If any of yall know that scene in Pokémon Scarlet/Violet where the box legendary pushes Arven towards his friends...that's this exact situation.

Leander Prewett

There's not doubt that this Gryffindor was going to grow jealous of your rising popularity in Summoner's Court and Crossed Wands.

He's a sore loser, while you have generally good sportsmanship..but he secretly appreciates you encouraging him to keep practicing. He only keeps going because of your words alone.

Outside of classes and competitions, he tries to hang out with you but oftentimes your attention goes to other people--whether it's professors keeping you after class to go over extra assignments or a friend sending you an owl with an urgent request.

You don't mean to keep ditching him, but to him it feels like you're always "too busy" for him.

Leander just scowls at the owls while they stare back at him like "hey, don't shoot the messenger".

Yet even when you do manage to spend time together, he only ever asks about your recent escapades....and then refuses to believe them despite you explaining them in great detail.

To this day, he still isn't convinced you possess ancient magic.

But the truth is that he wants to believe you. He admires your bravery and is insanely in love with that aspect of you....though he doesn't know how to express that.

He wishes he can relate and have cool stories to tell, but when people bring up his name they only ever talk about his constant failures.

He doesn't feel any better when others rush to defend your acts of heroism, thinking he's being a jerk.

The truth is you actually loved him and his company despite your frequent banter, but believed him to be way out of your league.

At least until the day Professor Kogawa assigned you to help him after flying class, citing the lack of respect he's been showing to his broom and your good influence on classmates.

He saw this as his chance to impress you...and failed miserably as he was unable to focus and snapped at his broom in frustration, causing it to whack him in the face just as a group of Slytherins passed by.

They laughed and teased him relentlessly, but after scaring them off with a chomping cabbage...you realized Leander had disappeared.

But he didn't go far as you discover him sulking near the lake, hiding himself with the Disillusionment charm (which you cancelled with Revelio).

It's there he finally talks about his true feelings towards you, and you see a more vulnerable side to the typically uptight Gryffindor.

In the end, you decide to give him a chance.

#it's fair to say seb and leander are the most jealous lads ever #hogwarts legacy x reader #hogwarts legacy x mc #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x reader #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #ominis gaunt #ominis gaunt x reader #poppy sweeting #poppy sweeting x reader #leander prewett #leander prewett x reader #jealousy hcs #headcanons

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unconventional-lawnchair · 3 months ago

Text

Marauders and Lightning Era Masterlist

started - 08.13.2024

last updated - 11.13.2024

Reqs: Open! Can be as specific as you'd like, or as vague as Youd like! i write both xreader and canon x canon. all LGBTQ forms of requests are welcome!

Credit for Dividers

All triggers and small summaries listed in the fanfiction

Matured audience advised

HARRY POTTER and CO.

-In The Absence of Goodbye (Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort - Enemies to Lovers to Strangers to..)

Bartemius Crouch Junior x Fem!reader

Summary: Concept- After being sent back in time to spend a year in the Marauders Era, reader is thrown forward in time and has her memories erased. But was she truly sent home? Aka: Dumbledore underestimates Barty's absolute disregard for order when it comes to his vixen.

-HIATUS We'll Heal Together (Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort) 13/? parts Remus Lupin/Sirius Black x Reader

Part 1-9 can be read as a standalone. Summary: Harry Potter grew up without the warmth of a family he should have known. A father in James Potter, a mother in Lily Potter, a God Father in Sirius Black, and an uncle in Remus Lupin. Oh, and let's not forget, a godmother in {Y/N} {L/N} Alt Summary: Starts at the end of Chamber of secrets and into the Prisoner of Azkaban with the first chapter, Harry meeting his father's old friends, and starts learning the fate of {Y/N}, who has long since been presumed dead. there seems to be more of a story hidden behind her disappearance, and in turn, her reappearance.

POLY!SHIPS

-Poly!Marauders+Lily x Fem!Reader - Zombie Apocalypse Au

Part 1 Summary: You find a group of survivors who could really use your help} Part 2 Summary: Someone had been hiding something fatal} Part 3 Summary: Reader has sometime with Remus, before she is sent out alone with Sirius} Part 4 Summary: Reader and Sirius go to gather water

-Jily x Slytherin!Reader

Part 1 Summary: An interesting situationship with Jily}

-Sirius/James/Remus Band Au

Summary: Reader has a horrible encounter on stage and the boys comfort her

-What's Your Name? {Sneak Peak}

Moonwater Fluff

REMUS LUPIN

-Spoiled Brat (Pt 1?) (Lil Angsty, +18, fluff)

Summary: When your escapism over the summer turns a bit more real, as you fall in love with a half blood your father would never approve of}

-Think like a Lupin (Angsty, lotta angst, happy ending! fluff +18)

Summary: Your parents are planning to marry you off the second after you graduate, but after an unfortunate encounter with a werewolf, plans change.

-Break a Leg Not My Heart (Some angst, mostly light hearted fluff)

Summary: You get hurt during Quidditch practice and Remus doesn't leave your side. Friends to lovers.

-Meeting Royalty (Fluff, Suggestive)

Summary: Meet cute but make it royalty}

Part 2

-Too Late (Angst, no comfort) {Pt.2}

Summary: Remus comes to terms with a love lost to his own insecurities.

-Stray

Summary: Post war Remus finds home for his heart

JAMES POTTER

-Fall in Love in a Night (A lil angst, basically just a fluffy fluffy love story)

Summary: College AU, Muggle AU, James falls in love with the some of the worst parts of you }

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

-Little Lupin (Fluff)

Summary: James has a little crush on little Lupin

SIRIUS BLACK

-Casual (Angsty, fluff at the end) +18

Summary: Sirius falls for his most recent hook up, and she refuses to cave to what she wants}

-Fix it Yourself (All the Angst, lil comfort) +18

Summary: Falling in love with James Potter was a whirlwind affair full of lies and heartbreak. Everything comes to a head when he asks you to fake date someone so Lily will give him a chance.

-Like my father {Blurb}

Summary: Reader wants a man to love her like her father loves her mom. She just hasn't met him yet.. maybe.

FRED WEASLEY

-Summer Talks

Summary: Fred lets you know what he's waiting for

HERMIONE GRANGER

-Invisible (Lil Angsty, basically just fluff) Blurb

Summary: Reader is a bit of a punk like Sirius, with Remus's insecurities. She doesn't believe she deserves a girl like Hermione. No real plot just Angst straight into fluff

MATTHEO RIDDLE

-But daddy I love him (Lil Angst, fluff)

Summary: Harry finds out his sister is dating Mattheo Riddle Ft. James, Lily, Remus, Sirius - No war au }

" Dinner Party " (Pt 2)

Summary: The Potters throw a dinner party; Mattheo meets the family} Wc- 4142

BARTY CROUCH JUNIOR

-The boy I knew {Sneak peek}

Summary- When Barty knew love

-The Boy I Knew {Part 1} (Angst, Fluff, +18)

-Traitor (Fluff, Angst) wip

Summary- The four times he should have said love, and the fifth time he lost his chance.

REGULUS BLACK

-Monarch butterfly (Hurt/comfort) wip

Summary- Monarch butterflies only live for up to six weeks. Their life brings an unspoken joy to the people who witness it, a peaceful feeling to the life that last so much longer then their own. They bring smiles to the faces of children, they bring good luck for those who choose it, they bring so much value to lives they will never truly be a part of. Your butterfly was, and always would be, Regulus black.

BLAISE ZABINI

-Before a Stranger

Summary: Friends before a stranger

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ronance4everbrainrot · 3 months ago

Text

GLAAAASSSSSHEAAAART INCORRECT QUOTESSSSSS. because I missed them (long?)

(and other ships)

Red: You’d be stupid to lay a hand on me.

Chloe: Oh, you’d be surprised how much stupid shit I do.

(Fight of our lives basically)

---

Red: Love is weakness and an evolutionary mistake.

Mal: You are literally making a Valentine’s day card for Chloe.

Red, pointing their hot glue gun towards Mal: You’re on thin fucking ice.

(canon)

-now Chloe and her Mentor-

Chloe: How do I make a date really romantic?

Evie: Be mysterious.

Chloe: Okay!

*later, while on a date with Red*

Red: So where are we going?

Chloe: None of your fucking business.

(Red teases her about it on their next dates)

---

Mal: Evie, I know you love Chloe. I mean, we all do, they’re a very nice person and I respect them immensely.

Mal: But I think they might be a fucking idiot.

(she's the smartest dumbass. or dumbest smartass?)

---

Red: How do you know how to kiss? Like who teaches you?

Chloe: Well it’s actually a class, but unfortunately it’s full right now.

Chloe: Would you like me to tutor you?

Evie: That was smooth.

(Evie is proud. Mal is losing 20 bucks. why? Bet)

---

Red: Do you want to know your gay name?

Chloe: My... my gay name?

Red: Yeah, it's your first name-

Chloe: Haha. Very funny Red-

Red: *gets down on one knee* And my last name.

Chloe: Oh- oh my god.

(Mal, proud: Now that was smooth)

---

Mal: Why are you guys acting like this?

Red: Oh, we're not acting. We really are like this.

(sigh)

---

Evie: Mal? I mixed redbull with coffee and now I can see sounds, should I worry?

Mal: Evie, I swear to god—

(Evie. Stop doing that. You need sleep don't overwork yourself. I love her Qvq)

---

Kidnapper: I have your partner.

Mal: What? I don't have a partner...

Kidnapper: Then who just called me a lowlife bitch and spit in my face?

Mal: Oh my god, you have Evie.

(the good old Isle days)

---

Celia : I am a ninja.

Mal: No, you’re not.

Celia : Did you see me do that?

Mal: Do what?

Celia : Exactly.

(canon)

---

Mal: Hey, can you do me a favor?

Celia : Sorry, I have to go do literally anything other than this.

Mal: You don’t even have a legitimate reason?

Celia : Oh, no, I do.

Mal: Well, what is it?

Celia : You see, I simply don’t give a fuck.

(she loves to annoy Mal. Little annoying sister. Canon)

---

Celia: We’ve found the person who stole your identity and was impersonating you.

Dizzy: Where were they?

Celia: Eating cheetos and crying in their car.

Dizzy, impressed: Damn, they really went for it.

(it was Uma, wasn't it? That's literally canon XD)

---

Celia: Here comes the lightning!

Celia, whispering: You've got to imagine it coming out my fingertips, wherein I am an almighty wizard.

Dizzy: Ok, currently imagining that. Hmm, not bad. Not bad at all.

(and they were roommates, your Honor) (wow they were roommates) (The bestest of friends)

---

Red: N... No!

Celia: A fair rebuttal. However, consider this counterpoint: Y... Yes???

(Red is trying to deny her crush on Chloe. Ha.)

---

Dizzy: What, I can’t be in a bad mood? It’s like people think, “Oh, Dizzy is such a nice person, Dizzy is so happy-go-lucky! Dizzy can’t be in a bad mood!” Well, you know what? Dizzy CAN be in a bad mood. And right now, Dizzy IS be in a bad mood.

(Yas Queen. Queen of Mean? So last season. Queen of Bad Mood? So in!)

---

Mal: You tricked me!

Audrey: I deceived you. ‘Trick’ makes it sound like we have a friendly relationship.

(Maybe Queen of Mean isn't so last season.)

---

Dizzy: Comparing Audrey and Mal is like comparing apples and oranges.

Mal: We’re both unique in our own ways?

Dizzy: Apples are superior in every way and all oranges should be eliminated.

Audrey: Which one of us is the orange? (It's me, isn't it?)

(Damn Dizzy. Queen of Bad Mood taking the lead)

---

*the squad is at a dinner party but someone has been murdered*

Chloe: You’re acting pretty carefree for someone who’s life’s at stake. Who’s to say you aren’t the killer?

Evie: It’s a murder, not a tax audit. I’ll be fine.

Red: What about Dizzy? Nobody ever suspects Dizzy!

Dizzy: Well what about Audrey? They have a gun!

Audrey: Celia has a knife.

Celia : Yeah, for fun, not for murder! *stabs Red in the arm*

(where is Uma? oh-. I bet it was Audrey. How else do you show you love someone? They are having their Killing Eve moment)

---

Audrey: You’re such a dumbass (affectionate).

Uma: Aww, you’re such a whore (complimentary).

Mal: How are you talking like that in real life?

Uma: Witchcraft (derogatory).

(canon. They late/hove each other)

---

Dizzy, talking about Evie: They're trying to lure me into a false sense of security! Well, joke’s on them! I’ve never been secure in my life! And I’m not about to start now!

(before Evie got through to her on the Isle 🥲)

---

Mal: *running towards Celia with open arms*

Celia: *moves out of the way*

Mal: Hey, why'd you move?!

Celia: I thought you were going to attack me.

Mal: I was going to hug you!

Celia: Why would you hug me?

Mal: WHY WOULD I ATTACK YOU!?

(OOF. Lol)

---

Celia : I love being right. It’s one of my favorite personality traits.

(yuh)

---

Mal: Wow, this sucks. I’m gonna kill *remembers that suicide jokes only worsen your mental health and that the first step to healing is stopping* you.

(she's getting there. Go queen)

-will add more of the boys in the next one-

Carlos: Are you laughing at that video of Ben and Harry fighting?

Jay: No.

Jay: I'm laughing at the comments.

(the comments saying "Ha! Gaaaay" etc.)

---

Carlos: You don't need my blessing to go kiss Jay. In fact, I was pretty sure you were already kissing Jay!

Gil: Nope.

Carlos: In that case, as the archbishop of Gil's fully awakened gaydom, I give you my blessing to immediately leave and rectify that as soon as possible! Go now, my child, and kiss Jay right on the lips!!!

(Damn Carlos. Yes. Thanks for helping Gil. Everyone needs Carlos as a best friend)

---

Harry: How are we supposed to put a tracker the size of a penny on Jay without them noticing?

Gil: Hey, Jay, I bet you 5 bucks that you can't swallow this penny.

Jay: *takes and swallows tracker* Pay up, loser.

Harry: ...

(same Harry, same. But then again not that surprised)

---

Now this is for @corgiplays for context here

Chloe: Earl, I sense hostility.

Earl: Good, because I hate you.

(accurate?)

---

Earl, entering the room: *Sees Chloe and leaves*

Chloe, watching Earl leave: There’s my monthly dose of the Cat…

(Earl didn't leave before pushing one of Chloe's things tho)

---

Chloe: We just ate. Why are you making pancakes?

Red: For the dogs.

Chloe: Why are you making pancakes for the dogs?

Red: They don't know how.

(I want Red to be able to cook lol. That can't even be a headcanon tho, that has to be an AU lol)

---

Earl: Just so everyone knows, don't ever try to climb a tree at night carrying a strobe light, owls DON'T like it.

Biscuit: ...what happened?

Earl: I made a VERY bad mistake.

(Oof)

---

Biscuit: Don’t be sad!

Red: Why not?

Biscuit:

Biscuit: I don’t have a good answer.

(Red acts like she can understand him. Imagine his responses lol. But she basically can)

---

Chloe: When I first met you, I did not like you.

Earl: I'm aware of that.

Chloe: But then you and I had some time together.

Earl: Uh-huh?

Chloe: It did not get better.

(It did. Stop lying. Also Chloe does the same thing as Red. I mean honestly who doesn't talk to their little furry friends.)

---

Red: You don't know anything about me!

Biscuit: I know EVERYTHING about you! You are an open book written for very dumb children!

(Damn. If Red could actually understand him she'd be flabbergasted)

--and just because I love it so much. Here is that one again

Chloe, gently nudging Earl aside with their foot: Earl, move out of the way so I don’t trip on you.

Earl, her eyes enormous: You kick Cat? You kick their body like the football? Oh! Oh! Jail for Chloe! Jail for Chloe for one thousand years!

(she is purposely laying in the way tho. And then acts like Chloe hurt her when Red hears her distressed meows)

---

That's it

Hope you liked it.

Byeeee

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inkonparchment · 3 months ago

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there's a man in the woods | Leon Kennedy

Leon Kennedy x f!Reader

summary: everything changes when you find a man beaten, bruised and bleeding half to death in the woods.

word count: 3k

warnings: horror imagery. unsettling themes. mentions/description of blood, organs, guns. canon-typical violence. injuries. slow burn. eventual romance. hurt/comfort. plot armour goes crazy. language.

a/n: once again, i apologize for barely any dialogue.

series masterlist

Chapter 2

The sound of blood roaring in your ears is all that occupies you, the harsh thump thump of your heart beating against your chest. Your palms grow slick, grip tightening on the rifle to stop the shaking. The first low rumbles of thunder began to roll across the landscape, like the distant roar of a sleeping giant stirring from its slumber.

A sudden, blinding flash of lightning split the sky, illuminating the darkened world for a brief, startling moment. A deep, resonant boom followed that seemed to shake the very ground.

You nearly jump out of your skin. You need to make a decision and fast for if not the rain then the nearby coyotes will come bounding in any second, the scent of copper and iron luring them in.

You could leave him here. It would be so easy to turn around and walk away, to pretend you never saw him, to pretend you didn’t find him clinging on to an inch of his life. He would be dead in a few minutes anyways; better to let the bears and the coyotes have their way with him.

You don’t know him, you don’t owe him anything and for all that matters, he could be here for you. What if he was the angel of death, out on the collection for a soul, for you. Would it be easier to bind yourself to him and wait for death to come find you? At least then you wouldn’t be greeting death alone.

Leave him. You need to lookout for yourself.

But you can’t seem to move away from him, unable to command your legs to walk away, eyes stuck to his heaving chest, the low rasps of his labored breaths luring you towards him. The barrel of your gun still pointed at his head, you take a shaky step forward, Luna barking in warning. His features look soft, almost as though in a deep, relaxed slumber.

“Fuck.” You curse out loud, putting your gun away and tightening it around your shoulder. You fall to your knees next to him, his blood bleeding into your jeans, one hand going to his neck and halting for a pulse. Weak and slow but present. “Fuck!”

You don’t even know how you’ll drag him back to your cabin, if you can even drag him back. You fix both of your hands on his shoulders and heave him up, his figure moving to your will like a ragdoll, head bouncing around as he falls forward. You steady him with a hand against his chest, the other gripping him fiercely by his shoulder. His skin is cool under your hands, warmth seeping out from him with his blood, leaving him empty and hollow.

He stirs, a low groan escaping his lips.

You grit your teeth, firmly plant your feet against the damp soil, feeling them dig in as you lift him. Your muscles groan, protest and nearly give up. Is this how Atlas felt when he was condemned to hold up the skies for eternity? Crushed under a burden so heavy he didn’t know if he could carry? With Zeus’ fury splitting the skies and his rage falling viciously from the heavens?

The air in your lungs burn, clothes seeping in red as you steady his body against yours, his arm all but engulfing against your shoulders, your fingers getting sticky with blood against his waist.

What a fucking predicament to find yourself in.

You try to take a step forward, every inch of your being in protest as you drag his heavy body with you. Your breathing gets laborious, feet beginning to get sturdy as you start the journey back, his lifeless legs dragging behind, leaving a trail of maroon, unravelling like a welcome carpet for anyone who wishes to follow. Fuck. You didn’t even know if he was being followed. You shake that thought out of your head, you’ll find time to worry about the details later.

Another brilliant flash lights the sky, reflecting the trees foliage on the forest’s floor. The low rumble of thunder follows before it gets deathly quiet. And then with a thunderous applause, rain drops begin to fall, pelting harshly against the material of your jacket.

Your feet stumble against the roots, halting in your steps as your ears pick up a noise in the far distance. Luna growls, snout turned sharply in the direction from where you had come. The rain pelts around you as you stand there frozen, fear snaring your limbs as you’re slowly consumed by it, drenched in it like the rainwater.

Howling.

“Luna! Heel!” You yell, voice booming over the storm.

Your grip on the lifeless man’s arms turns to steel, adrenaline filling you up with the resolve to finally break into a half-hearted run, the echoes of the howls harmonizing with the thunder. Your pants are long and deep, perspiration blooming on your forehead and then washed away by the rain. You can’t see that far ahead of you, relying on your instincts and the sound of Luna’s paws squelching against the wet mud.

A light in the distance, beckons you towards it, like a lighthouse guiding the ships to safety. You zero in on it, ignoring the searing pain in your thighs as you finally tumble up the stairs, kicking the door open and shutting it firmly behind you when you’re sure Luna is inside, the sound of the rain and the howls ceasing.

Your brain is buzzing. The drip, drip of rainwater from your body seeping into the wooden floor, mixed with the stranger’s blood gives it a light pink hue. His head hangs, hair covering his face completely, chest barely moving and it’s his low guttural moan that snaps you out of your reverie.

It’s like you’re on autopilot.

Clambering against the floor, swiping off the lonesome basket from the dining table and laying him on the wooden surface. The muscles in your arms protest once more, adjusting him properly on the table, tugging his arms to his side.

Towels. Pots. Water. The medical kit you keep in the cabinet on top of the fridge. And then instincts take over, greeting you like an old friend.

You assess the extent of his injuries, quickly finding the major source of the blood that’s pooled under him once again. It’s the gash on his thigh. You peel back the material of his pants, a gasp involuntarily escaping your lips. The gash is deep, angry and gushing like a fountain, painting your hands. The skin around it is torn hastily, not clean like how it would be from a knife but how it would be if some…creature had dug its claws in him. You glance at him in fear. Who the fuck was this guy?

You usher the invading thoughts out of your mind, locking them firmly behind a steeled door. Later, not now. Water. Soap. Clean the wound. Ointment. Stitches. Dressing. Move to the next and repeat. You don’t know how long it takes you, hands moving deftly as everything just moves into the background; Luna’s watchful presence and the storm outside just a distant memory. It’s just you and him.

Every so often you would glance at his face, still pale and deathly, and it would contort with every tug and stitch of the needle, little noises of groans escaping his lips.

The bleeding stops overtime as the exposed wounds are closed up, beads of crimson littering the floor underneath together with the strips of his black shirt accompanying them from where you had cut up his shirt to better see his wounds.

You finally step back, last stitch in place, noticing your sleeves drenched in red, the edges of your shirt having dried out. Outside the rain is still pouring, not with the same ferocity it had when you had entered but now with a steady rhythm, drumming on the roof of your wooden cabin.

You collapse back into a chair, tingling sensation shooting up and down your arms, tickling your fingers in the process. And its Luna’s nudge against your thigh that has you reconciling with the matter at hand, brain finally acknowledging your circumstances.

It starts at the bottom of your stomach, churning slowly and steadily, aggressive waves crashing up and down like they do against the sand during high tide, building up ominously, towering over the coast before engulfing everything in its path and then the wretched all-consuming pull back. You bite back a sob, chest squeezing dangerously under your ruined gloved hand. Why couldn’t you have just left him outside?

He looks hauntingly beautiful like this. Lying limp on your table that you had spilled juice on just yesterday, unable to even fathom that you would be nursing a dead man on it, jogging up memories of who you used to be, what you used to be. Only illuminated by the soft glow of the overhead light, his chest was now moving evenly, the white of his skin glimmering under the warm rays.

Steadying yourself by gripping the edge of the table, you walk up to his side, shaking hands discarding the gloves. Hesitantly, you reach out, fingertips grazing against his forehead, flicking away his matted hair, tracing down to cup his cheek. So cold. His skin laps up the warmth you have to offer, your palm nearly matching the temperature of his skin.

And his eyes flicker open just for a second, staring hazily at you. You suck in a sharp breath. Icy blue eyes looked back at you, reflecting a storm so intense inside them that it nearly put the one brewing outside in shame. Defenseless, helpless and so pitiful. His lips move incoherently, no noise coming out before his eyes rolling back into his head, drifting off to another spell of unconsciousness.

He can’t stay lying here.

You steel yourself, snapping out of the haze he had managed to capture you under.

You rid him off his gear, carefully peeling off every layer of weaponry he had on him. Every gun, ammo, knife and grenade until you were sure there was nothing else strapped to him. You saw the black of his earpiece, prying it off of him and inspecting it in the palm of your hand. Broken.

You set aside his weapons, grabbing them and kicking aside the small rug in your kitchen hiding the cellar door. You pull it open, ignoring Luna’s whines and descended down in the darkness. Tugging on the light switch you located the crate at the end of the small cellar, shelves littered with canned food. You dump the things inside, slamming the crate shut and running back up, hastily rearranging the rug back to how it had been.

You bite your lip, trudging into your living room, wincing as another lightning bolt shot up in the sky outside. You throw open the door in the far corner, leading into a spare bedroom that you’ve never had use for.

The two big windows and the queen sized bed had always unnerved you, hating how exposed that had made you feel, the lack of a proper view over the woods making you feel claustrophobic. You shove off the covers, pushing them to the side to make room for your guest.

You hope this is the last time you have to carry him.

Grunting, groaning and huffing as you try not to jostle him too much, taking care so his stitches don’t rip, not wanting to do a redo of the same activity you had practically broken your back over. You settle him on the mattress, happy to have the mass off from your shoulders.

You shuck the covers back on him, tucking him under the multiple layers to preserve his body heat. With the finality of a pat, you step back and you don’t stop until you’re out of the threshold, the door still wide open.

The cold begins to seep into your bones, standing there trembling as the adrenaline begins to ebb away, the sensation of your wet clothes blooming across your nerves. You fold your arms over your shoulders, rubbing them in hopes of returning some warmth in your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Luna seat herself between you and the strangers, her brown eyes fixed on his sleeping form.

Your hands seek purchase against her collar, the softness of her coat calming a portion of your anxiety. You know she won’t move, won’t stray from her post and keep a watchful eye on the man, in silent promise that she’ll let no harm befall you.

You bound upstairs, fingers quivering as you try and slide the lock in place, pulling at the door to ensure the door won’t budge. You shrug off your layers, every garment you had on falling on the floor with a distinct splosh-sound.

The shower runs again for the second time today, the droplets streaming down your head as you watch the water change colour before slipping down the drain. A storm rivalling the one outside, pummels against your skin but this one is under your control; the temperature, the intensity and at your command, ceasing.

You close your eyes, letting the water wash you away, take you somewhere far where nothing has happened and nothing has gone wrong. Maybe this is all happening in your head, a manifestation of your guilt plopped unceremoniously at your doorstep, finally having lost your sanity to the voices in the woods.

Memories of past mistakes haunt you, the faces of those you couldn't save flashing before your eyes. This…needed to be different. You wouldn't let another life slip through your fingers, even if it meant risking your own. Fuck. Is that what this is?Is that why you saved him? A pathetic attempt to right your wrongs?

Your fingers massage your shoulders, knots having tightened. But they don’t loosen, not under the scalding water and neither under the guise of your fingertips. Frustration builds up again, the sensation of the water no longer enough to quiet the ringing in your head, tiles too cold under your palm where you steady yourself, the steam nearly asphyxiating. You hastily shut off the water, clambering out of the bathroom, pointedly ignoring your reflection in the mirror.

After pulling on a warm set of hoodie and sweats, you step over your ruined clothes, the lock sliding away with a click. Hands tight on the railing, you walk back down, breath shallow and eyes peeled. Maybe none of it happened, a nightmare conjured by your mind, karma making you dance like a skilled puppeteer.

Another crack of lightning and Luna’s shadow falls long on the floor, taking up space on the wall. You gulp, finally on the ground, floorboards creaking. And none of it was a nightmare, the door to the spare room still open, the sun having set long ago, the howls of the wind and the angry splatter of rain against the windows, the man still in your bed, face illuminated by the sudden shots of light seeping in through the glass.

The loud boom of thunder jolts you, spurring you forward as you drew all the curtains, hastily checking the locks on the door and almost tripping on your discarded rifle lying on the floor. You pick it up, heart easing at its familiar weight and a sudden ferocity occupies your chest. If he wanted you dead, you didn’t owe it to him to make the process easier. It would be a shame to put a bullet in him after wasting various medical supplies on him.

You grab a chair from your dining table, its legs scraping against the floor as you bring it to the living room, firmly placing it near the unlit fireplace, allowing you an unrestricted view into the bedroom. You sit, gripping the gun firmly, beginning your vigil, watching over him like a hawk, unsure of his intentions.

Despite the exhaustion tugging at your eyelids, you remain resolute. You can’t afford to let your guard down, not now. Every creak of the cabin and howl of the wind keeps you on edge, the noises amplified in the dark.

The shrill ringing noise breaks through the air like a bullet fired in the solitude of the night. It’s a miracle you don’t fall from your seat, panic seizing your limbs as you madly turn your head around, eyes nearly popping out of your skull, heart spurring in your chest. Luna doesn’t flinch, obedient as ever with her eyes fixated on the target.

You calm your heart, eyes landing on the lonesome landline hanging from the wall of your kitchen, usually silent but now wailing in twilight, the red light glowing in anger. Slowly you walk over, every ring feeling like a knife embedding itself in your chest.

And it gets deathly silent when you pick up the receiver, the plastic cool under your touch and fitting snug against the shell of your ear. Nothing, except the harsh sound of breathing graces your ear.

“Status?” A gruff voice finally speaks. The fear relents, recognizing the heavy baritone of the voice at the other end, greeting you like how it always does; no pleasantries but without fail always at the same time, designated at the same day of the week.

You hesitate, eyes flickering towards the opened door, rolling your bottom lip between your teeth. You could say it, say what happened, what you found or rather who you found. It would be so easy to pass on the problem. He would be gone in an instant, whisked away without your knowledge to a fate that would be unknown to you, freeing you off the burden that you can barely uphold.

But the flash of his deep blue irises grips the words in your throat, refusing to let them through, halting you from your confession. And all you can hear yourself whisper, voice so meek and cracked is, “All good on my end.”

thank you for reading! i hope the lack of dialogue wasnt irritating lmao. this should be up on ao3 soon.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy

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gloomwitchwrites · 3 months ago

Text

Tattoo Artist Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Reader

Chapter Specific Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): swearing, grief & difficult conversations, discussions around canon-typical violence, smoking, angst, all hurt no comfort

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Part Twenty-Four of Ink & Needle

Walsh leaves another note. Price might know your location. Simon prepares to leave.

Chapter Twenty-Three // Chapter Twenty-Five

ao3 // main masterlist // ink & needle masterlist

It rained that night.

Simon turns his gaze upward into stunning light.

There is no rain. No boom of thunder. No flash of lightning.

I burned like the seed.

Price, Johnny, and Kyle stand behind Simon in a half-moon, watching on like observers at a burial, but not part of the procession.

The sky watered my skin.

Simon takes a step forward. Underneath his boots is cracked concrete. From the fissures sprout green. Not weeds. No. Those don’t belong in a garden.

I germinated. I flowered. I grew.

This is grass. Fresh grass. And perfectly green.

Veins. Veins of grass. A network. A web. Stretching outward from a bountiful source.

We are gardens now. The two of us.

“Simon.”

Price’s voice is gruff. A warning. ‘Danger ahead’ is the tone.

But Simon is steadfast and uncaring of what happens to him. He takes another step, crushing blades of grass beneath his boots as he heads for the epicenter of it all.

This building is a shell. A construction site long abandoned and used as one of many covert warehouses under Walsh’s hat. This place burned. Melted.

Simon remembers how the smoke burned his lungs. How it was Price and Johnny that dragged him out even as the fire blazed around him. The ride in the helicopter is still blurry even after all these years.

Afterward, Price told him how it took several days for the fire to eventually burn itself out. Chemicals caused it, and dumping water on it did nothing. The blaze was contained. And then it was left to fade out.

It did.

Eventually.

By that point, Simon was in the hospital thinking he’d never walk again without a prosthetic.

We are gardens now. The two of us.

Simon comes to a stop just shy of the garden. Because that is what it is. A garden.

This is where they found Walsh’s body. Burnt to a crisp with Simon’s blade still lodged in the chest cavity. The handle partially melted.

Simon understands why Price is urging cautiousness.

It’s valid. Truly.

Regardless of the garden surrounding him, in the center of it all is a body.

Not your body. And not a stranger’s either.

It’s a charred corpse. The corpse of Kit Walsh that isn’t Kit Walsh at all. The one discovered after the fire burned out. The one taken back to a lab somewhere for examination before they ruled the wanker dead.

How it’s here, Simon doesn’t know. But it’s preserved well, as if everything only happened yesterday.

The knife is gone.

But in its place is a tree. Not a towering tree, but a young one. Still growing toward the light that shines down from above. The tree, and all the surrounding plants come from fire-activated seeds.

Seeds that are coated in thick resin. Seeds that need that resin burned away before they can germinate and grow.

Simon clearly remembers telling Walsh about it, back when Simon was undercover and Walsh considered Simon a friend and confidant.

The two of them walked the streets of Manchester, lingering in a part of the city that few like to visit and only if they have to. A group of young boys no older than fifteen were slinging it out in an alley.

“They only use their fists now,” Walsh had said. “Back then we used our teeth.”

“Those boys are just seeds coated in resin,” Simon had replied.

Walsh had given him the strangest look. “Fucking what?”

“Some seeds can’t germinate unless they’re burned first.” Simon had nodded toward the group of raging boys. “They are the resin-coated seeds. Their violence is the fire. It’ll melt away the resin. Crack the shell. They will grow. Become a garden.”

“A garden?” Walsh had laughed. “You’re fucking hilarious, mate. A fucking garden? Like my mum’s flower bed?”

“No,” Simon had replied, knowing his own story. Knowing how his father and his bite was the flame that melted Simon’s resin. He had cracked. Grew. But not into his father. Not into that monster.

He germinated and followed a different story.

“A path. They’ll choose a path.”

Price comes up beside Simon, pausing just shy of his shoulder.

“I thought she’d be here,” murmurs Simon, staring at the burnt body of fake-Walsh.

“She might still be alive, Simon.”

“It still has the toe tag.”

Price sighs. “It does.”

Johnny and Kyle appear in Simon’s peripheral. They hover for a moment before coming into view. They walk the perimeter on the opposite side, gazes locked on the garden as if they might find a clue.

Could be that there is, but Simon doesn’t see it.

You are not here.

The note appeared on his front door and Simon knew exactly where when the words flowed off the page to burrow into his skull.

It rained that night.

It did rain that night. It fell in sheets. Soaked right through Simon’s clothes before the fire dried it all away.

“We’ll find her, Simon,” says Price, squeezing Simon’s shoulder before taking a step to the right.

They all stare at the garden. They all look for clues.

Simon’s mind is a cobweb. Dusty. Full of so much and yet unable to recall anything of note. Walsh’s actions have suctioned Simon’s resolve right out of his body like embalming tubes, filling him with a dullness that won’t abate.

Maybe it’s because you’re gone, and half of his purpose is missing.

Simon moves, but it is aimless. He tramples the garden. Steps all over the blooming buds. Crushed. Damaged. That is all he knows to do.

His gaze scans the flora. Examines the body. Its neck is bent backward, mouth open as if seeking falling rain.

Simon moves toward it. Notices a flash of white.

As if yanked from a trance, Simon lunges, falling to his knees, not caring that his bad leg cries out angrily in protest.

“What is it?” asks Johnny, dropping down beside him.

Another note. Another fucking note.

White envelope. No postage. Simon’s full name handwritten on the front.

It’s exactly the same. A twin from the one found at Evie’s home. A twin from the one attached to his front door.

This time, his fingers shake as he opens it up.

The small piece of paper is thin. Wispy. Translucent like the paper you might find in a wrapped gift.

Simon stares down at the ink. It is solid and bold. Not smoke-kissed like the last one. Here, it bleeds. Nearly illegible.

It is easier to forgive an enemy than to forgive a friend.

“Simon?” comes Johnny’s voice, but it’s a distant thing.

Friend. Friend.

“I wasn’t your friend, Walsh,” whispers Simon.

“What is it, Simon?” It’s Johnny again, concern lacing his tone.

“I wasn’t your fucking friend!”

Johnny leans away from Simon as he staggers to his feet. Clutching the paper in his fist, raging anger blooms white hot in his chest.

Price approaches Simon, hands outstretched as if trying to calm an animal.

“Get the fuck away from me!” shouts Simon.

Johnny gets to his feet, moving backward. Kyle, Johnny, and Price all stare back at him. There is pity—so much of it. Simon hates it. He wants to rip it away. They look like they want to give Simon their condolences, as if you are already dead.

But there is no confirmation.

Walsh wouldn’t hold on to your corpse just to take the piss.

Would he?

Walsh stole the fake body. He held on to it. Grew a fucking tree in the chest cavity.

A tightness forms in Simon’s chest. It grows, and then he’s heaving, panic rising. He bends over, placing his hands on his knees as his body convulses, wanting air but not able to find it.

“Simon.”

It’s Price, but Simon turns away, stumbling forward. He moves out of the garden and then collapses to his knees. They strike grass-laced concrete.

No one comes near him. Not until it’s over and his breathing slows to something even and calm.

“We’re taking you home.”

“Captain—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Simon.” Price puts all his authority in it, and Simon’s training rises to the surface, silencing him. “We’re taking you home. And I will handle this.”

Simon turns his head just enough to look at Price. “I want in.”

“I know.”

“I want in. I’m not asking.”

Price nods. “I know you’re not.”

The man sighs, glancing back at Johnny and Kyle. They linger near the edge of the garden, standing close but not touching. Gaz has removed his hat, holding it by the lip, speaking softly to Soap. Simon cannot hear their conversation.

Price returns his attention to Simon. “I want you to go home, and live as normally as you can. Let me take a look at our options. I will call. We’ll find her.”

Instead of walking away, Price presents his hand. “I’ll take it.”

Simon offers up the note without hesitation. Keeping it won’t do anything. It’ll only hurt more. It’ll only be a reminder.

Price nods and folds it up, placing it in his jacket pocket. Pushing up to standing, Price addresses Johnny. “I want this place picked apart. Call in who you can. And get me Laswell. I want Walsh fucking found.”

Distantly, Simon hears Johnny talking into a phone. Price talks too but it’s not to Simon. They are already making plans. Already moving toward the goal.

He is staring ahead. Hardly blinking. All the energy has been sucked from him.

It not Price or Soap, but Gaz that steps into Simon’s line of sight. He bends at the knee. Gets to Simon’s level.

“Let’s go, mate.”

Kyle offers his hand. Simon takes it.

The walk to the car is slow. Foggy. Like the trip to the hospital on the helicopter, this too is completely blurry. He doesn’t remember the drive out of Manchester and back to London. He doesn’t recall arriving outside his flat or the walk up the stairs.

There is nothing.

Only blankness.

Until Simon wakes—and realizes that the exhaustion finally overtook him, plunging him down into a black sleep that took all thought and dream and memory.

Routine keeps him together. It is the only comfort. Simon sinks into it. A distraction from everything. And between it all, Simon fills it with cigarettes and his favorite bourbon. If he didn’t love you, he’d likely be scrolling through his contacts thinking about how he can get his dick wet.

That’s what he used to do after you ran from him at Riot Room. He’d think of you and remember how you were forever out of reach. He’d wank one out to that shredded piece of thong in his drawer and be completely unsatisfied after.

From there, he’d find someone willing and warm. And that simmered the need. At least for a bit.

But he has you now. He loves you. Wants no one else.

The bourbon will do.

But it is a bloody shite substitute.

A day passes.

Then two. Then three.

After a week of radio silence, Simon feels the edges of madness closing in.

Evie calls, but Simon ignores her. She comes to the shop, and with hardened shame, Simon turns her away. It’s cruel. Completely fucking cruel.

But Simon cannot face her or anyone else. Not until he has an answer.

Whether you’re alive or dead, Simon will bring you home.

Amelia even comes—trying to talk sense. And yet Simon hardly cares. He stares blankly like he’s observing a wall. He says nothing. Doesn’t react.

Amelia eventually leaves. Clearly defeated.

A second week passes.

A third.

Simon is a zombie. He is decaying.

Lighting a cigarette, Simon takes up post on his balcony. It’s fucking cold. Winter is in full swing. Christmas has already come and gone. Simon didn’t go to Johnny’s family farm. Soap’s mum rang him just to check in. Apparently, Johnny was there. So was, Gaz.

Simon should have been there. You should have been there. He was so excited to bring you along, to introduce you to the two people in his life he can call parental figures.

He takes a long drag on his cigarette. Simon’s phone buzzes in his pocket.

Though time has passed, Simon is still eager with each vibration of his phone. Every time it goes off, Simon reaches for it—lunges.

He does it now, expecting something yet knowing that it’s unlikely.

Think we found her.

Simon’s heart stops. Drops into his stomach before returning to his chest to thud loudly until it’s all he can hear.

Before Simon types out a response, Johnny sends coordinates.

Meet us here. Three days.

Three days. In three fucking days he’ll be closer to finding you.

Urgency tells Simon to just go—to just fucking leave.

Three days.

Three. Days.

Simon puts out the cigarette and heads inside. Clearing the kitchen table of takeout boxes and empty bourbon bottles, Simon opens up the scheduling planner with all his upcoming appointments. He sets to work, making calls, rearranging fucking everything.

He rebooks until his schedule is clear for two months out. Finding and returning home with you is not nearly enough. Simon has no idea what state you’ll be in when he finds you. If you are alive, you might not be whole, and Simon doesn’t want to dive into work again. You will need all his love and attention.

You deserve it. And he wants to give all that he has.

From there, Simon packs a duffle. Bravo watches on, padding nervously around the bedroom as Simon shoves things inside the bag.

“We’re going on a walk, Bravo,” says Simon, snagging the German Shepard’s leash from off its hook by the front door.

Stopping at Dancing Faun, Simon drops off an extra set of keys to 141 Ink for Ben. After, Simon walks Bravo to the one place he’s been avoiding for weeks.

He hesitates before knocking.

“Finally ready to talk?” asks Amelia, her arms crossed over her chest after she answers the door.

She might be short but her energy isn’t.

“I’m leaving for a bit,” replies Simon.

Amelia shrugs. “And?”

She’s irritated, but that’s understandable. Simon hasn’t exactly been polite to her.

“I’m leaving to bring her home.”

Amelia’s visible irritation melts away. Her arms slowly uncross, dropping to her sides. Eyes widening, she opens her mouth to speak, hesitating at the last second.

“Can you take care of Bravo?” asks Simon before Amelia has a chance to say anything.

She nods quickly, taking the offered leash, holding it against her chest as if she cradles something precious.

“You sure?” she asks, voice shaking slightly. “Are you absolutely sure, Simon?”

There are no details. Nothing to guide him. It is a blank canvas. A deep gash in his understanding. Too many variables bounce around, and Simon cannot seem to grab one out of the air. They slip through his fingers.

Too much uncertainty dwells within him.

“I’m sure,” he lies.

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yelena-bellova · 2 years ago

Text

Twenty Years Later: Joel Miller x F!Reader - Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen: Carry You Home

Plot: Ellie and Y/n do their best to save a wounded Joel and survive on their own.

Word Count: 8.6k

Warnings: canon-typical violence, language, blood, injuries, hunting, reference to smut

A/N: Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy…these chapters suck to write for 2 reasons…1: D*vid. 2: We’re getting so close to the end that I want to cry 😫 I’m going to miss this show so much!!

As always, this series is 16+ and I will not be adding anyone to the taglist if your age/range isn’t in your bio. Gotta look out for younger eyes 👀

I hope y’all enjoy this blend of fluff and angst and laughter. I’m going to try to get 14 out on Sunday, but no promises. Read on!

——————

“Protect him.”

Tess’ dying words had echoed through Y/n’s mind more times than she could count. The sentiment had travelled with her across the county, an ever-present passenger on their journey.

And now they were haunting her.

Ellie and Y/n had managed to get Joel into the basement of an abandoned house, laying him down on an old, dank mattress. Unfortunately, he had woken up by then and was feeling the full force of his wound.

“I know, I know,” Y/n tried to soothe him as he screamed, bent over his abdomen. The tourniquet had done a subpar job at stopping the bleeding. If it had been a river, now it was a stream. “Hold still,” she looked to Ellie, “Press down on the wound. Hard.”

Ellie had found an old towel in the kitchen upstairs and tore off a strand.

“Squeeze,” Y/n instructed Joel, who was already squirming in pain, “Hard as you need.”

Joel had lost enough blood for the world around him to spin, the only things in focus were Ellie and Y/n’s faces.

Y/n nodded to Ellie, who pressed down on Joel’s wound, causing him to choke on his own breath. His hand shot out, reaching for Y/n’s arm and crushing it in his grip. She turned her face downwards to hide the grimace of pain.

“Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” Ellie cursed as Joel writhed beneath her hands.

“Keep going,” Y/n ordered, blindly reaching a hand out to push Joel’s shoulder into the mattress, “Honey, c’mon, I need you to work with us.”

Joel winced, digging his head back into the bed. Out of all the injuries he’d sustained over the years, this was the worst. Not just because of the searing pain stabbing through him, but because it was the one that was going to take him out.

He was dying, and neither Y/n nor Ellie could stop it.

“Leave.”

They both ignored the word.

“Leave,” Joel strained through it again.

“He’s lost a lot of blood,” Y/n stated, watching Ellie’s hands, “He’s gonna say some weird shit.”

“Go,” he continued.

“Shut up, Joel,” Ellie’s breaths quickened in quiet panic.

“Take the gun-“

“Joel, shut the fuck up,” she yelled.

“Ellie,” Y/n said forcefully, the girl’s hands were slipping. She pushed them off and held the rag down on Joel’s wound.

With a last surge of strength, Joel reached out and grabbed Ellie by the collar, yanking her to face him.

“You go,” Joel whispered, “You go. You go north. Y/n-“

Y/n shook her head, shutting out the reality of their dire situation. “Stop,” she said without looking up.

Joel was undeterred, “You go to Tommy.”

“Stop,” Y/n gritted out, her hands hanging over his stomach with no plan of action. She wasn’t even sure what there was to be done. At best, she was only stalling Joel’s death by a few precious minutes.

When she finally dared to look up, her gaze fell on Ellie, whose eyes were misting as she stared down at Joel. He shoved Ellie back, releasing her from the burden of caring, and let his arm fall at his side.

Joel managed to turn his head, letting his eyes wash over the woman he loved, had never stopped loving. Kneeling over him and covered in his blood, he thought back to how she’d looked the night they’d first met. Her eyes untouched by cynicism, her laugh deflecting no hidden pain, her smile striking him like lightning and giving him a new pursuit in life; to bring enough joy to her life that her lips were forever turned up.

Now he was going to break her heart. Again.

He thought of their last night together, spent cradling each other’s bodies underneath the sheets in Jackson. How his skin had remembered the feel of hers the moment they touched, how his lips had recalled the roads they used to travel across her like he would an old hometown street. Though bathed in the tears of their sins and all they had lost, he had been reborn at the first kiss. He had a standing reservation in hell, but he could go knowing he’d felt the touch of an angel.

“Rose…” Joel strained out, the word tasted like sweetness.

The four letters burned in Y/n’s ears, sending a new wave of fear through her. “No,” she finally looked to Joel, “This isn’t how it happens.”

“Rosebud,” he pushed with a surprising calm to his tone.

“Joel, no,” Y/n fought to keep her sobs down, “This is not how it happens. It’s not.”

Joel’s hand shakily slid up her arm, needing to feel her as he told her, “I love you.”

Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, the strength of her grip on the towel faltering as she forced them open to look at Joel. Despite his impending death, there was a peace that filled in the lines of his face, one that only graced those who were on their way out.

“No,” Y/n whined, her voice unable to carry further than the distance between them. She reached up to stroke his hair, taking his cheek in her other hand, “This isn’t how I want to hear it, Joel. Please.”

Once he’d said it, he couldn’t stop. He was making up for twenty years in twenty seconds. “I love you. I love you…” Joel drew a shallow breath, “You go. You take her,” his stare gripped her, nearly choking the will out of her, “Go.”

For as prominent as Joel’s abandonment had been in her life, Y/n had done her fair share of leaving. She had left Sarah’s body, at least it had felt like leaving, when they’d sought shelter in the triage clinic. She had left her parents, panicked at what she had done, in the spots where she’d taken their lives. She had left Tess to die the worst way a person could, even if she was only following orders. Her life had been one abandoning after the other, and now she was being asked to abandon the love of her life.

In her haze, Y/n hadn’t even remembered Ellie was there. It wasn’t until she felt Joel’s thick coat being slipped over his body that she realized the girl was making her choice. She would decide, for once in their time together, to heed Joel’s words. And as her boots slapped against the stairs, she was also making Y/n’s choice.

Unable to force the words she felt like a sweet sickness inside her soul, she dissolved into tears, pressing her forehead to Joel’s. She didn’t think even if they’d had twenty years ahead of them that she’d have ever found to words to describe the depth of her love for Joel Miller. It stretched two decades of euphorias and tragedies. It was stronger than her hate or his violence. It was forgiveness and redemption and all-encompassing in its triumph over the worst of their persons.

Y/n sniffled, nudging Joel’s nose with her wet one and letting her mouth hover over his as if she could breathe life back into him. Joel took it, letting his eyes fall shut and savoring the the last of her lips he’d ever feel.

Joel had spent twenty years trying to detach from who he’d been, his old skin a constant reminder of all that he’d almost had. Y/n had spent twenty years trying to find her way back to her humanity, desperate to redeem herself. Without ever knowing it, they had been running back to each another, one step at a time.

Protect him.

Perhaps Y/n had only kept her promise to Tess in the beginning out of obligation. But now, now the words were as true as if they’d come out of her own mouth.

Joel had left her once.

She’d be damned if it happened again.

Y/n broke from Joel’s lips, rushing to her feet and bolting for the stairs.

From Joel’s point of view, it was the last he’d ever see of her. There was a duality that Cordyceps had forced on anyone who prioritized survival over anything else. Joel had meant every word with the force he’d said it, he wanted Y/n and Ellie safe. But he also knew he was dying, something that, despite all he’d wished over the years, he wasn’t ready to do yet. He had Ellie, this beautiful, unexpected gift of a child, who depended on him as if she was his own. And now he had Y/n, the miracle that he’d let slip through his fingers, returning to him with the same perfect timing she’d first appeared to him. He wanted to stay, to cherish and protect them like the man they made him feel he could be again. And if that wasn’t in the cards for him, he at least wanted to hold their hands as he faded out.

As Joel watched Y/n head up the stairs, he let a single tear fall down his face. He’d had one last night, one last kiss, and one last ‘I love you.’ It wasn’t a lifetime, but it would have to be enough.

When Y/n got to the stairs, Ellie was nowhere to be found. Was she already saddling the horses? Was it that easy for her to let Joel die?

“Ellie,” she called through her tears, bursting through the door, “Ell-“

The girl rushed past her, one step ahead, raiding cabinets and drawers.

Y/n felt herself breathing for the first time in an hour.

“What do we look for?” Ellie hurriedly asked.

“Something,” Y/n flung a empty cabinet door open, “Anything. We need to get the wound closed up.”

They searched high and low, in every room, until they met in the kitchen. Ellie dove for a set of drawers while Y/n scoured more cabinets.

“It won’t open,” Ellie groaned, pulling against the handle.

Y/n ran over, squeezing her hands next to Ellie’s and tugging with her. “Pull,” she breathed, the two of them shifted all their weight backwards.

The drawer’s internal mechanism released, the momentum they’d built throwing Ellie and Y/n to the ground. The contents were scattered from the drop.

“There’s nothing here,” Y/n panted, on the verge of frustrated tears.

“W-wait,” Ellie breathed, her hand sliding across the linoleum floor to grab something. She held up a rusted needle and thread to Y/n.

“Yes,” Y/n gasped, she took the supplies into her shaking palms. She wished she hadn’t used the last of her own days before, but they could make do with what they had, “Yes, this’ll work.”

Stumbling to their feet, they ran back through the door and down the steps, bringing salvation with them.

Joel was trying, trying to hold the rag to his wound, hoping it made his death a little less painful, but his strength was fading. His whole body shook with shivers, even his lips trembled from the cruel mixture of shock and the cold. He could feel himself slipping away, so much so that he was convinced the thudding footsteps he heard were hallucinations.

Y/n and Ellie kneeled down on either side of him, their faces illuminated by the last bit of light peeking through the clouded basement window. His saviors.

Ellie threw Joel’s coat off of him, catching her breath as she reached for his hand.

Y/n leaned down, interlocking her fingers with his other hand and brushing the hair from his face. She pressed a determined kiss to his clammy forehead, willing him to stay alive a little bit longer.

Joel would never admit to them just how much he’d wanted them to stay. He summoned what was left of his strength and tried to squeeze both of their hands, letting them squeeze back. They were going to fight this, and they were going to do it together.

Ellie reached for the towel and peeled the cloth off Joel’s wound. The bleeding had slowed, but was far from stopping. They had to move fast.

In the midst of their panic, Joel softly reached for Ellie’s cheek, pulling back halfway when he lost his strength. It was a moment none of them noticed in their mad rush.

“Honey,” Y/n began, pressing one more kiss to Joel’s skin, “We gotta get it closed up. It’s gonna hurt like a motherfucker,” she moved Joel’s hands to grab her forearms, “So you fuckin’ squeeze, and try to stay still for us. Okay?”

Ellie quickly thread the needle and tied a knot. Y/n wished she could spare her the pain of having to stitch Joel up, but Y/n was the only one who’d be able to hold him down and keep him relatively calm.

“Keep going,” Y/n directed Ellie, “I’m gonna try to keep him still, but you don’t stop, even if he moves.”

Ellie nodded, apologetically seeking Joel’s eyes one last time before turning to his abdomen.

Y/n put both her hands to Joel’s shoulders, bracing herself for what was to come.

“Go,” she said,

Joel let out a sickening groan as Ellie thread the needle, the pain giving him strength enough to squeeze Y/n’s arms so tight, she couldn’t help but wince. In his daze, he could sense he was hurting her, but couldn’t fight past that which his own body was bringing him.

Tears sprung to Y/n’s eyes as she forced Joel down into the mattress, taking the searing heat in her shoulder as a good thing. It meant Joel still had enough fight inside him to push through.

“I know, I know, I know, I know,” she muttered as Joel threw his head to the side, trying to hide his grimaces from Ellie, “I know, honey. Just hang on.”

Joel’s vision was going dark around the edges, the pain dulling all his senses. The only thing strong enough to cut through was Y/n’s voice.

“I’m here,” Y/n assured Joel, his eyes fluttering but fighting to look at her, “I’m here. I got you.”

“It’s stopping,” Ellie announced, still hard at work.

Y/n wasn’t able to sigh in relief yet, Joel had finally lost the battle and had slipped into unconsciousness. She’d expected it, but it didn’t mean she wasn’t still filled with dread.

It only took Ellie a few more minutes to finish sewing Joel’s wound, Y/n helping her to tie a clumsy knot at the end. They dabbed and tried to clean the blood off him as best they could before laying his shirts back down. When they were done, they slid off their ankles and onto the concrete, watching the rise and fall of Joel’s chest.

“Is he…” Ellie began before realizing it was a stupid question.

Y/n was fighting off the same thought, wondering if their efforts would be enough, or if it was a losing battle.

“I hope so,” she whispered, it didn’t matter to her if fate was calling Joel Miller home. She would rage against it regardless.

The next hour was spent waiting and watching. Ellie, eventually, went upstairs and collected their backpacks.

Y/n kneeled above Joel’s head, her hands resting over each of his ears. She combed her fingers through the ends of his hair, not trying to wake him or soothe him further into sleep, but simply providing what little comfort she could to both of them.

Ellie clunked down the stairs with their packs and sleeping bags, depositing them on the floor. She had spent the last three months watching Joel and Y/n fight, and the last week watching them drift back together. This was new. She hadn’t seem them vulnerable, on the verge of losing one another when they’d finally found some sort of peace. She didn’t have twenty years of experience, but she understood why Y/n was hunched over, cradling the man, who didn’t even know she was there.

Ellie settled against the wall, working up the courage to speak. “How’d you guys meet?”

It was perhaps the only thing said in the moment to make Y/n smile. “At a bar,” she answered, remembering the night like it had just passed, “A guy hit on me, couldn’t take the hint that I wasn’t interested…Joel threw a punch, Tommy threw the next…” she nearly laughed, “Then they threw him out.”

“So…he’s always been like that,” Ellie commented.

Y/n soothed a thumb over Joel’s cheek, the skin was so pale it almost brought on a fresh batch of tears. Or maybe it was the reminder that they’d once lived in a world where violence wasn’t a necessary evil. Where Joel’s laugh was an every day occurrence. When he kissed her as if it was the last time he ever would, with the end nowhere in sight.

“No,” she whispered over the lump in her throat, “He wasn’t.”

Ellie sensed she was getting to close to shattering what was left of Y/n, and she couldn’t do that. She needed one person left to look to, to hold her hand through these impossible problems. She rubbed her hands together anxiously, nearly choking on the words she wanted to say.

“Riley.”

Y/n dragged her eyes away from Joel to look up at Ellie, “What?”

Ellie drew a shaky breath, “Riley. She was my…she was my friend,” she rubbed her knuckles together, “She got infected and…”

All of Y/n’s longing told her to stay with Joel, not to move from her spot, no matter what. But her duty was to both him and Ellie, and she knew where she was needed at the moment. She inched her hands off of Joel’s head and crawled over to Ellie, coming to sit next to her against the wall.

“I knew Riley,” Y/n admitted, hugging a knee to her chest.

Ellie’s eyes widened, “You did?”

Y/n nodded, “She only joined a few weeks before…” she trailed off. Marlene had been the one to find them, Y/n had been back at base. But she’d met Riley, had even tried to take her under her wing before the fatal night at the mall. “She was fucking fearless,” Y/n shifted gears, “And fun.”

“Did she ever mention me?” Ellie asked after a beat of silence.

“No,” Y/n replied, looking over her arm to Ellie’s expectant stare, “I think she wanted to keep you safe,” she cracked a smile, “Bloodthirsty demons that we are.”

Ellie’s lips turned up the slightest bit, but they fell just as quick. It was one of the first times she had allowed herself to grieve her best friend, and there was something about the setting that made it all hurt worse. Across from her, Joel lay on the brink of death. To her side, Y/n was sitting with her in worry and in comfort. The last two people on the planet that she loved.

Y/n’s maternal instincts caught the change in Ellie’s demeanor just before she broke. She slipped an arm around her shoulders as the first tears fell, Ellie willingly sliding into Y/n’s side and curling her face into her body. It was the first time Ellie had allowed anyone, apart from Riley on that dreadful night, see her fall apart, and Y/n didn’t take it lightly. She pressed a kiss to the top of the young girl’s head, reminding herself that the journey had started out the two of them, and if even if tragedy intervened, it would end with the two of them.

—————————

Deep into the night, Y/n stayed awake, telling Ellie she’d press on until morning. The girl needed a break from the world.

Joel stirred a few times, letting out a moan or blindly reaching to clutch his wound. Y/n was there each time, holding his hand and soothing him back to sleep. Around what Y/n guessed was 3AM, he stopped slipping in and out and just stayed out. His ragged breaths, creating a steady rhythm in his stomach, were the only thing reassuring Y/n that he was still alive.

While Ellie was awake, Y/n held it together as best she could. But under the cover of dark, she allowed herself to fall apart, her fear for Joel’s life swallowing her whole.

“Do you remember that trip we took to the beach?” Y/n whispered, hanging over Joel’s head, stroking a hand over his hair as her other one cupped his cheek, “For our anniversary? Sarah’s graduation?”

In her weaker moments over the years, Y/n had drifted back to the memory. It was the last time she could remember feeling truly free and yet it was also the first time she remembered feeling tied down. Stuck in the space between Sarah’s dad’s girlfriend and a parent, between Joel’s love of one year and his potential wife. She wanted them both back; the liberation and the duty.

“Remember that night?” Y/n asked Joel’s unconscious form, she’d always wondered how she could recall the exact feel of the hotel sheets. The exact trail of her skin Joel’s lips had traveled. Which of his t-shirts she’d been wearing. “I made you promise that…” Y/n trailed off, bristling, “It sounds so fucking stupid now.”

“No matter how much I hated you,” Y/n slid her thumb against Joel’s cheek, “I couldn’t hate you enough to stop loving you. I tried, my g-“ Y/n chuckled softly, “I tried so fucking hard. Couldn’t do it.”

Her tears were building now, the more she exposed, the more the threat of loss became real.

“I waited twenty years, Joel,” she whispered, her throat tightening up on her, “Twenty fucking years, not knowing if you were dead or still hanging on. And then I got you back,” she sobbed once with nostalgic joy, “I got you back. And I can’t lose you before I get to love you again.”

Y/n lowered her head, dropping her lips to Joel’s ear, her voice barely audible, “Because I do. I love you. I love you so much it…” she bit back a cry, not wanting to wake Ellie, “It fucking hurts. You can’t just…you can’t just come back to me and then leave. You can’t do that to me. To Ellie.”

“I need you to fight,” Y/n begged, tears freely flowing down her cheeks, “I need you to fight so fucking hard, you need me to carry you the whole way to Utah, and I will. I’ll do it. I just need you there.”

Y/n choked on her sobs, digging her forehead into the mattress and letting them shake her. All her losses in life had been so sudden, she’d never had to watch a life hang, the pendulum swinging between a second chance and death. It was tearing her apart.

She wiped the snot and tears away on her jacket sleeve, the same sleeve that was painted with Joel’s dried blood. She leaned back over Joel, pressing the gentlest of kisses to his forehead. Y/n had heard stories of miracles, of voices at hospital bedsides being the thing to bring people back from death’s edge. She’d lost faith in that sort of thing after the loss of her family, but in the throes of worry, nothing was off the table. She’d stay up all night, telling Joel how much she loved him, if there was even a chance it would reach him.

—————————

For two days, Ellie and Y/n kept watch as best they could. With no medicine, there was little they could do to help Joel’s, now infected, wound.

Y/n finished up feeding snow to the horses, moving robotically from the garage to the basement. She hadn’t gotten more than maybe two hours each day. It didn’t feel right to rest when Joel was clinging to life.

She came downstairs to see Ellie kneeled next to Joel, placing one of their last pieces of rations on his chest.

“He wouldn’t want you doing that,” Y/n said softly.

Ellie sniffed away the cold air, “Yeah, well…”

If the terrible series of events was doing anything, it was showing how deeply they cared about each other.

“I’m going to go out real quick,” Y/n announced, heading to pick up her rifle, “Try and find us something to eat.”

“I’m coming with you,” Ellie jumped to her feet.

“No, you’re not,” Y/n replied, “You’re gonna stay here and watch him.”

“I can’t fucking do anything for him here,” the girl gestured down to Joel’s body, “If I can hunt something then…”

Y/n already knew what she was trying to say, she was desperate to feel in control of something. Hunting was a great way to make you feel like you had some power over the world.

“Okay,” Y/n sighed, “Twenty minutes.”

Ellie moved across the room to grab Joel’s rifle while Y/n crouched down and kissed his forehead.

“We’ll be back soon.”

The two of them filed up the stairs, both of their hearts unsettled at leaving without Joel. It was one thing to see someone with no fighting skills or survival techniques be taken down, but to see someone like Joel battling for their life was a quick way to make someone feel entirely exposed. And Y/n could feel the full weight of the responsibility they’d shouldered together the last three months.

Y/n drew her rifle into postition as her and Ellie exited through the front door, Ellie struck a similar stance. They moved down the driveway into the street, scanning for footprints in the snow that didn’t exist. They’d made the right decision to hide in the abandoned neighborhood.

Ellie and Y/n made their way to the forest, trudging through the snow and huffing patterns into the cold air.

“Remember what Joel taught you,” Y/n instructed, keeping her voice low to not spook any animals, “Regardless of what your instincts tell you, pull slow.”

Ellie’s eyes were already drifting ahead, having spotted a white rabbit thirty feet away from them. She glanced over to Y/n, who nodded for her to go ahead. Y/n felt better keeping her gun aimed at the space around them anyway.

Just as Ellie was setting herself up, the rabbit ran off. Ellie took off charging the way it had run.

“Ellie,” Y/n gritted, the worst thing to do when tracking an animal was to chase it.

Ellie tripped on a branch, falling face first into the snow.

Y/n came over and extended a hand to the girl, pulling her up to her feet. “Word of advice…if an animal’s running, you don’t go after it and make more noise.”

“Yeah,” Ellie exhaled, wiping the snow from her face, “I got that.”

“Come on,” Y/n hitched her rifle back over her shoulder, “Ten more minutes.”

The two of them walked a little further, eventually hearing a clicking noise that sent them both reaching for their guns.

Ellie hit Y/n’s arm, guiding her attention to a patch of trees providing shelter to a full-grown deer. Y/n gestured for her to take the nearest log and the shot. It felt like a good idea to keep Ellie as distracted as she could and maybe give her a much needed victory.

Heeding all of Joel and Y/n’s advice, Ellie lined up the shot perfectly and-

BANG!

The deer wailed, limping away into the depth of the forest.

“No fucking way,” Ellie muttered.

“Come on,” Y/n pulled her free hand and the two of them sprinted off after it.

There are certain moments in life that, with hindsight, stick out as forks in the road. If Person A hadn’t have made it to Point A, then Person B wouldn’t have found them and both their lives, good or bad, would be forever altered because they didn’t meet.

Y/n and Ellie couldn’t have known what they were running straight towards.

They tracked the blood trail of the deer 1/4 of a mile before hearing two male voices. Y/n threw her arm out, catching Ellie and holding a finger up to her lips. The two of them drew their rifles and very carefully stepped around the snowbank. Sure enough, there were two men standing over their now dead deer.

Y/n inhaled to speak.

“Don’t! Drop your rifles! Now!” Ellie yelled.

The two men carefully removed their guns from their backs, the taller of them keeping one eye on Ellie and Y/n.

“Turn around,” Y/n ordered, her gun locked on the tall man, while Ellie took the shorter one.

“Any sudden moves,” Ellie threatened, deepening her voice to make her words more convincing, “I put one right between your eyes. Ditto for buddy boy.”

Internally, Y/n grimaced. Ellie was going to get them killed with a poor imitation of Joel.

“You two are quite the hunters,” the shorter man said, his hands held in the air, “We didn’t even hear you coming.”

“Flattered,” Y/n replied, unimpressed, “But this is where you two walk away with your asses still attached and we take what’s ours.”

“Okay,” the man said, making no effort to move.

“Just go!” Ellie impatiently yelled.

“A-all I ask is ten minutes of your time,” the man continued.

“Did you not get that that was a warning?” Y/n muttered, extending her foot ever so slightly to make it look like she was taking a step closer.

“Please,” the man didn’t budge at her non-verbal threat, “Just ten seconds. My name is David. This is my friend, James. We’re from a larger group: women, children, and we’re all…very, very hungry.”

“We’re from a large group too,” Ellie lied, drafting the lie quickly in her head, “Also hungry.”

David sighed, “Well, even so…” he gestured to the deer, “Ya can’t drag this back just the two of you.”

“We’re fine,” Y/n finished the conversation. The world was dead, yet somehow misogyny was still alive and well…

“We’re not asking for charity,” David clarified, “W-we can trade you for some of the deer. What do you need? We have…boots-“

Ellie’s rifle lowered ever so slightly, her voice coming back to its childlike pitch, “Medicine? Like, for infections.”

“We do,” David replied, surprised they’d hit on something so fast, “Back in our village. You’re welcome to follow us.”

“Yeah,” Y/n wasn’t so quick to believe that it was just that simple, “That’s not happening.”

Ellie picked up her gun-slinging persona again, “Buddy boy can go get it. He comes back, you get half the deer. Anyone else shows up, I put-“

“Put one right between my eyes,” David finished for her.

“That’s right,” Ellie finished, sensing that at some point, she should have let Y/n take over the talking.

David turned to James, leaving his hands hanging in the air, “Alright, go talk to Howard. He’s got a case with some penicillin. Bring back two bottles and a syringe.”

James looked stunned at David’s request, as if killing the two women was the obvious option.

“It’s not code, James,” David added, “Do as I said.”

Y/n’s rifle remained trained on James, waiting for him to make the right move. The man kept his eyes on her the whole time till he could safely jog back into the forest.

“Ten steps back,” Ellie ordered David, her and Y/n marched the man backwards, “Keep going.”

Once he was past the deer, Ellie kneeled down to pick up David’s rifle, unloaded the cartridges while Y/n kept her aim fixed on him.

“That your dad’s gun?” David asked, “He the one who’s sick? That’s why you two are out here on your own?”

“This is not a Starbucks,” Y/n bit out, “We are not chatting over a latte. All you need to know is that one wrong move, and your village goes hungry a hell of a lot longer.”

The words hurt Y/n as she let them fly, she didn’t feel cut out for Joel’s intimidation tactics.

“Well, look, uh,” David looked behind them to an old cabin, “It’s a four mile round trip back to our settlement. It’s gonna be…a while before James gets back. I have some oil and matches in my pack, we could,” he gestured to the cabin once more, “Take shelter. Start a fire.”

It wasn’t the most obscene idea, Y/n thought. She didn’t plan on lowering her gun at any point, and if Ellie and her were going to make the trip back carrying half a deer with them, they needed to save the strength the cold was stealing from them.

“You bring him with us,” Y/n decided, nodding towards the deer.

David nodded back, a smile on his lips that Y/n couldn’t decode. She just knew she’d seen the same expression on the wrong kind of men before.

—————————

David tended to the fire he’d started in the middle of the cabin’s living room, sitting back down and warming his hands. Ellie and Y/n sat across from him, rifles aimed and ready to silence him.

“You know, you two really shouldn’t be out here on your own,” David said, his voice soft and concerned.

“Says the man with two rounds pointed at him,” Y/n remarked.

David shrugged, “Fair enough. So what’re your names?”

Ellie frowned, shaking her head in reply.

“It’s hard to trust strangers, I know,” David stated, “But I honestly mean you no harm. And for what it’s worth,” he opened his hands, “There’s room for you two in our group, if you want.”

“You’re inviting us to join your Hunger Club?” Ellie retorted, “Thanks.”

“It’s true, we’re hungry,” David admitted, “But we’re still here. I’m a decent man, just tryna take care of the people who rely on me.”

Y/n gave a nonchalant shrug, “Okay, so you’re the leader of a ragtag group of survivors. That’s nothing special.”

“Wasn’t my choice, it was theirs, but” David replied, “Yes.”

“They “chose” to follow you?” Ellie replied, “Is this some weird cult thing?”

One half of David’s mouth quirked up, “Uh, well, you sorta kinda got me there, I am a preacher, but just pretty standard Bible stuff.”

Ellie smiled to herself and glanced up at Y/n, who had already tuned out of the whole topic.

David looked between the women, “What?”

“The whole world ended, and you still believe that shit,” Ellie replied.

“I actually started believing after the world ended,” David corrected the girl, “Before that, I was a teacher. Math. Taught kids about your age.”

“So you went from teacher to preacher because, what? It fuckin’ rhymes?” Ellie fired back at the man.

David nearly laughed, “Yeah, exactly.”

Ellie smiled, just a little bit, keeping her aim on David but loosening it. He didn’t seem like much of a threat to her. Y/n, being older and having seen a lot more shit, was less convinced.

“But seriously,” Ellie prompted him to continue his story.

“Well, I found God…after the apocalypse,” David told them, watching Ellie more than Y/n, “Which is either the best time or the worst time to find Him, hard to say. But when the Pittsburgh QZ fell in ‘17, Fireflies and FEDRA…I left with a few others, and th-that’s how I ended up with our flock.”

“This is a long fucking way from Pittsburgh,” Y/n replied, perhaps it would have been a comment coming out of anyone else’s mouth, but it was an accusation from hers. There was something about him she didn’t trust.

David chuckled, “Yeah, we’d settle somewhere and then raiders would come, so we’d move again. And as we wandered, we picked up new people along the way until…” he glanced around him, “We ended up here.”

“Well, your luck had to run out sooner or later,” Ellie commented, the choice of words wasn’t lost on her or Y/n.

“Hm? Luck?” David rearranged his face the way some pastors did before jumping in the pulpit, “There’s no such thing as luck. No, I-I-I believe everything happens for a reason.”

Ellie and Y/n both shared a restrained smile, dodging the attempted sermon like it was a bullet.

“It does,” David insisted, grinning back at them, “I can prove it to you.”

“Okay,” Ellie agreed to his attempt.

David sighed, settling into his makeshift seat a little deeper. “We didn’t expect this winter to be so cruel. Nothing’ll grow. Game’s been hard to find. So I sent four of our people to a nearby town to-to scavenge what they could and only three of ‘em came back. And the one that didn’t was a father. He had a daughter just like you,” David pointed to Ellie, “And her dad was taken from her.”

Y/n slowly connected the dots, one step behind David but ten ahead of Ellie.

“Turns out…he was murdered,” David continued, “By this crazy man. And get this, that crazy man…was traveling with a little girl and a woman.”

Y/n was up on her feet, eye peering through the viewfinder, instantly.

“You see?” David smiled unsettlingly at Ellie, “Everything happens for a reason. James, lower the gun.”

Ellie spun around on her heels, both her and Y/n finding James returned, his handgun aimed straight at Ellie. They switched positions, Y/n’s weapon trained on James and Ellie’s on David.

“She is the one that killed Alec, isn’t she?” James asked.

“She didn’t kill anybody, neither of ‘em did,” David corrected, “Lower the gun.”

James and Y/n squared off, Y/n’s breath hanging on the edge of her lungs, just waiting to pull the trigger and release. Reluctantly, James lowered his pistol.

“Did you bring the medicine?” David asked his friend.

“Yeah, but-“

“Throw it to them.”

James hesitated, “David…”

Y/n’s back was turned to the preacher, but his silence indicated his seriousness. James reached into his pocket and tossed the small package at Y/n and Ellie’s feet.

“Back up,” Y/n said from between her teeth.

James did as requested, moving away from the medicine. Y/n moved closer to the man, letting him stare down the barrel of her gun while Ellie grabbed their trade.

“I know you’re not with a group,” David called, his voice creepily calm, “You won’t survive for long out there. I can protect you.”

They didn’t need to hear any more. Y/n fell behind Ellie, keeping her gun trained on the two men while the girl made a run for it. She thought to shoot them, be done with the whole thing and ensure their safe getaway. Except David had talked too much about his position in their town, they’d have twenty people after then instead of two. It was easy math.

As soon as she was certain David and James wouldn’t pick up their weapons, Y/n bolted into the forest after Ellie.

—————————

They made it back to the house, sweaty and out of breath.

Y/n shoved Ellie through the front door, fearfully scanning the street once before shutting and locking the door. When she got in, Ellie was already making for the basement, where Y/n followed her to.

“Are they gonna find us?” Ellie panted, sprinting down the stairs.

“I hope not,” Y/n replied, wishing she could give her more assurance they were safe.

Joel had barely moved since they’d left, his head having lolled to the right a little. Y/n knelt down at his shoulder, picking up a piece of rag to wipe the sweat from his brow. His body was working overtime to beat the infection.

“How the fuck do I do this?” Ellie loaded the syringe with the first bottle of penicillin.

“You put it either in the wound or around it,” Y/n instructed, an invisible question mark appearing at the end, “I don’t know, I’ve never dealt with a wound like this.”

Ellie considered her options, rolling Joel’s bloody shirt back and getting a good look at the gash. “Fuck it,” she muttered, just before inserting the needle in the middle of his wound.

Joel’s breathing quickened, his abdomen clenched a few times at the sensation, breaking through his unconsciousness. Y/n was there, pressing a kiss to his slick forehead, ready to hold him down if he woke.

“Okay,” Ellie said under her breath as she extracted the needle.

“Good job,” Y/n reassured her, “Penicillin’s fast acting. He should start to improve.”

“H-how do you know that?” Ellie asked, placing a worried hand on Joel’s forehead to test his fever.

The truth was, Y/n didn’t know anything. She was floating on a life raft in the middle of the ocean, adrift from any and all sense of safety. But she wanted to take solace in medicine, in the science of twenty years ago that a little dosage could stitch the body back together. She was choosing to believe.

“I don’t,” Y/n replied honestly, stroking Joel’s hair and peering up at Ellie, “But I have to have faith in something.”

“What, like the guy who wants to kill us?”

Y/n nearly bristled, “No, not exactly. I don’t believe everything happens for a fucking reason,” she looked back down at Joel, her lips quirking upwards briefly, “But some things…some things, definitely. And I don’t believe that we’d go through all the hell we have just to lose now…”

Ellie sighed, nervously rubbing her hands together as she watched Y/n tend to Joel. It came so easy to her guardian, to care for both her and the man who had abandoned her. Ellie’s walls remained so sky high, she wished that she could simply surrender to the warmth in her heart without fearing it as weakness.

She walked around to the other side of the mattress, sinking down onto its edge and laying down next to Joel. She carefully placed her hand on his chest and rested her head on his broad shoulder.

Y/n knew it was difficult for Ellie to open up, that the connection they’d formed back in Boston was like some eclipse that only came every hundred years. She’d watched Ellie slowly peel away at Joel’s defenses, until it was impossible for either to deny they cared about one another. Y/n wished desperately that Joel was awake to return the gesture, to encourage her vulnerability.

There wasn’t enough room on the mattress for all three of them, and Y/n didn’t dare ask Ellie to move an inch. Instead, she brought Joel’s hand up to his chest and laced her fingers through his. She rested her forehead just above his heart, the soft thudding against her skin filling her body with hope that he’d keep fighting. That he wouldn’t leave them.

Joel, slipping in and out of consciousness, wasn’t aware of much going on around him. But somewhere in his slumber, he could sense the warmth that was wrapped around him. He wasn’t chasing any white light, calling him home, but he chased the heat, leaning his head into it. He knew he was safe, so long as he could feel the warmth.

—————————

But there was no improvement the next day.

Joel’s wound had stopped bleeding, but his fever had yet to break.

Y/n knelt over Joel’s abdomen, sucking the second dose of penicillin into the syringe and injecting it. He didn’t so much as make a sound, that worried her.

Ellie sat on the edge of the bed and watched, waiting for some miraculous transformation to occur that would make Joel shoot straight up and return to his normal, grumpy self. If Y/n was honest with herself, her sleep-deprived mind was also waiting on something similar.

“Thought you said it was fast acting,” Ellie remarked, more bitter with the medication than Y/n.

“It is,” she answered, she was fucking exhausted, “But it’s not magic. He took a fucking…” Y/n let her hand fall against her lap, “Whatever it was. That doesn’t heal overnight.”

They didn’t want to say what they were both thinking.

“Come on,” Y/n sighed, rising to her feet with a groan, “Let’s go serve breakfast.”

The two of them filed out the garage, Y/n going to lift the squeaky door and Ellie carrying out a bucket. They gathered handfuls of the freshly fallen snow and brought it back to their horses, it was all they could offer them.

Y/n looked out on the neighborhood, her fingers nearly twitching in anticipation. They’d left tracks on their way back from the woods. If David decided to come after them, it might not be hard to find them. Then again, if he was a preacher, he could have subscribed to the believe that God might exact some sort of revenge on them rather than dirty his own hands.

“What are you thinking about?” Ellie asked, coming to stand by her side.

Y/n sighed, not wanting to consider dying any more. “How tired I am of fuckin’ snow.”

“You and me both,” Ellie remarked.

Without another word, Ellie leaned her head against Y/n’s shoulder. Y/n interlocked her fingers with the young girl’s and they stood in silence, drawing strength from one another.

A flock of crows cawing, flying away from something, broke their peace.

“Get back inside,” Y/n ordered, stepping into the street and following the direction the birds had fled from.

“No fuckin’ way,” Ellie argued, chasing after Y/n. It was wasted breath, telling her not to do something.

Y/n led them through a line of trees, staying low as they walked along a wooden fence. Through the shrubbery and snow, Y/n could spot several bodies a few hundred feet away and the tips of the rifles they carried.

David.

Neither of them dared to say a word, Y/n pushing Ellie backwards and hurriedly sneaking them back across the street to the house. They ran into the garage, quickly and quietly shutting the door behind them, before bolting through down to the basement.

“We gotta draw them away,” Ellie said, on the same wavelength as Y/n, “If they’re after him.”

“We ride back towards the university,” Y/n finished the thought, if there was a fight to be had, that was the best battleground.

Ellie slid across the basement’s floor, smacking Joel’s chest and shaking him by the arm, earning a gasp in return.

“Joel,” she urged, “Joel, wake up.”

“Joel,” Y/n called, she was already grabbing her rifle, “Joel, come on. Wake up!”

“He’s not fucking moving,” Ellie panicked, running off to her backpack.

Y/n took her place, grabbing Joel’s face in her hand, “Joel, I need you to fucking wake up. We need you. Now.”

Everything hit Joel’s ears as if he was underwater, three layers of sea between him and the words. The familiar voices were speaking urgently, in desperate tones. He found the strength to open his eyes, two tiny slits offering him a blurry view of Y/n.

“Keep them open, Joel,” Y/n urged, “Keep them open for me,”

Ellie returned with Joel’s knife, placing it in the hand across his chest, “Okay, okay, look at me. There are men coming, okay? We’re gonna lead them away from you, but if anybody makes it down here, you fuckin’ kill them. You got it?”

Joel’s eyes were beginning to glaze over again.

“Joel,” Y/n slapped his cheeks a few times, feeling him slipping from them, “Do not fall asleep right now. Stay the fuck awake.”

In the end, there was nothing else her or Ellie could do. David was coming and they had to act fast.

Y/n pressed a final, urgent kiss to Joel’s brow, before leaping to her feet with Ellie, praying that he was weakened rather than dead when they returned.

“We gotta block him in,” Y/n said as her and Ellie ran up the stairs, “Grab the china cabinet.”

The two of them maneuvered the hutch in front of the basement door, blockading the entrance as best they could. They ran out to the garage, quickly saddling both their horses and shoving the door back open.

“You ride in front of me the whole time,” Y/n ordered as she mounted her horse, “And if I go down, you don’t stop. You ride back to Tommy, got it?”

Ellie was ready to argue to the death on the point, “I-“

“You ride back to Tommy,” Y/n repeated, feeling the weight of what she was telling Ellie to do. It was the same one Joel had felt two days before.

Ellie rode out first, with Y/n bringing up her rear. She had her pistol off its holster and the rifle across her back, ready to do whatever necessary to keep Ellie and Joel alive.

They rode out the backyard, cutting past a few houses before coming out on the end of the street David and his men were creeping down.

“Hey, motherfuckers!” Ellie yelled just before her and Y/n began to fire. Ellie was shooting to warn, Y/n was shooting to kill.

As soon as the first bullets flew, making the men jump, Y/n and Ellie galloped off the same way they’d come from the university. Ellie listened and stayed ahead of Y/n as they rode. With each foot they gained, a new surge of determination flooded them both that they could make it. Y/n rotated on her horse and prepared to take another shot-

BANG! BANG!

One well timed bullet to Ellie’s horse sent the girl flying, landing harshly in the snow. The horse’s failed body tripped Y/n’s animal, she clutched the reins as she was thrown off, rolling into the snow as her spooked horse ran off.

“I got ‘em,” one of the men yelled.

“El,” Y/n grunted, belly crawling to Ellie, who managed to roll over onto her back. She was in a daze from the fall.

Y/n reached back for her rifle, scrambling to her feet as the crunch of boots began to surround her. She raised her gun at the first set of men, firing one bullet through one of their legs and sending him to the ground. She wasn’t quick enough to swing behind her and avoid the butt of one of their guns being driven into her head.

“Fuckin’ bitch,” the man muttered as Y/n fell.

It was a battle to stay awake through the dizziness, but Y/n managed to get to her knees, shielding the men from getting any closer to Ellie.

“Do it,” the same man who’d clubbed Y/n decided.

Even though they were her last moments, they didn’t feel like it to Y/n. She reached beside her to grab her pistol and cocked it. After twenty years of fighting, she wasn’t about to stop just because death and her were face to face. Not for Joel and certainly not for Ellie.

A shot fired into the air stopped the situation from escalating any further.

David came forward, standing over Y/n and Ellie. He cocked his head towards two of his men before Y/n, his disciples each grabbing one of Y/n’s arms and dragging her back.

“No,” she screamed, kicking wildly as David kneeled down beside Ellie and reached down to take her pulse, “Don’t you fucking touch her!”

David glanced up at Y/n, nearly amused by how aggravated she was. He removed his hand from Ellie, holding it up where she could see it. “Two of you with me,” he ordered, “Drag the horse,” he moved to pick Ellie up.

With all her strength, Y/n slammed her boot down onto one of her captor’s feet, causing his grip to loosen in the agony. She freed her arm and punched the second man at his temple, making him stumble backwards. “No!”

Y/n marched forwards, shoving David’s hands off of Ellie’s body, “She’s my fuckin’ kid.”

David watched every move, thoroughly evaluating the woman in front of him. He removed his hands and stood to his feet slowly, adhering to her demand.

Y/n brushed the loose strands of Ellie’s hair off her wet face, the sight of her unconscious nearly incapacitating Y/n with fear.

“The rest of you go door to door,” David continued his orders, “You so hungry for vengeance? Deliver it.”

Y/n’s head had barely turned before she caught herself. It was better for them to think Joel was up and about and that she had nothing to worry about. Internally, she felt fear spread to the very tips of her fingers.

David began to lead the way as Y/n lifted Ellie into her arms, beginning the two mile hike back to David’s community. She didn’t know what fate they were being marched towards, but she knew one thing.

She’d burn down the whole fucking town before she let anything happen to Ellie.

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