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stylesispunk · 2 months ago

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Silent strain | part vi

Outbreak!joel miller x f!reader

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summary: Your relationship with Joel is in a thin line, some truths are confessed, some words are thrown but you're there for each other at the end.

w.c: 13,3k

warnings: angst, reader feels insecure, mentions of depression, fluff, not proofreading. Paragraphs in bold indicate flashbacks. Not the best chapter.

a/n: This chapter is not intense, not my best but it is emotional and we can see reader struggling with her emotions (because hormones and sadness) I think this chapter feels like a filler. It is a filler chapter, sorry. I wrote it in a rush. HOWEVER, at the same time, it ends the tension between Joel and reader. New things will happen, and yes, Paul will have what he deserves. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading.

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

There was something strange in the way Joel’s presence since he had come back.

You knew something happened out there. You could see it in his brown eyes, there was something behind the spark, perhaps a lie surfing beneath just for you not to catch a glimpse of it.

The way Ellie had closed herself off wasn’t something you had expected either.

It was a complicated mix, one that stirred a knot of unease in your stomach. You could sense the tension hanging in the air like a storm cloud waiting to burst. The moments you’d shared as a family felt overshadowed by something unspoken, a weight that pressed heavily on both Joel and Ellie.

At first, you had brushed it off as a natural adjustment period, after all, Joel had been gone for so long, and Ellie was grappling with her own feelings about what may had happened out there. But the more the days passed, the more you realized it ran deeper than that.

You found yourself stealing glances at Joel when he thought you weren’t looking, trying to decipher what lay behind his guarded demeanor. There were times when his smile would falter, a flicker of pain crossing his face before he masked it with a joke or a playful jab. And when he looked at Ellie, you could see a flicker of something darker, a shadow of guilt that crept in when he thought no one would notice.

He looked at her with the adoration a father should look at her daughter, but with the guilt of failing her.

And he looked at Rosie with hurt.

You couldn’t help but feel like the two of you were ghosts haunting him, memories of what he had lost and what he was trying so desperately to hold onto. The laughter and giggles you shared with Rosie should have brought him joy, but instead, they seemed to amplify the shadows lurking behind his eyes. It hurt to witness the internal struggle, the love he had for his daughter and the sorrow of knowing he had failed to protect her before she was even born.

You knew he felt guilty since the other night when that stupid flicker of doubt crept upon him, but you had you brushed it off for his sake, and for your own. You thought things would be better then. You had been together again; he had made love to you but you felt useless.

There was a distance that was never there before and it crumbled you.

It had been two weeks.

And it hurt.

Looking at Joel hurt.

Talking to Ellie hurt

An even looking at your daughter hurt.

The things between him and Ellie had shifted, leaving you feeling increasingly isolated. You noticed how Joel and Ellie seemed to retreat into their own world, while you stood on the outside, watching them from a distance. You tried to push through it, but even looking at Rosie had begun to hurt, every cry and fuss reminding you of how Paul’s words had lingered, twisting your mind, making you doubt yourself. Maybe Joel and Ellie were pulling away because they saw something in you, something broken, something not enough.

You weren’t the family you had become during those months you spent outside. Not the one you dreamt of it.

you prepared dinner for the three of you. It wasn’t anything extravagant, but you wanted to create a sense of normalcy, to find a connection again. As the minutes ticked by, the food grew cold on the table, and neither Joel nor Ellie showed up. Rosie started to cry, her wails sharp and insistent. You tried to feed her, but she refused, turning her head away. Frustration bubbled up inside you, and soon it felt like too much. You couldn’t calm her, and the weight of everything came crashing down.

Tears blurred your vision as you desperately tried to soothe Rosie, but nothing worked. You began to cry yourself, feeling utterly defeated when Joel finally walked in, his footsteps heavy with the weight of the day.

“What’s wrong with her?” Joel asked, his voice tinged with concern but also an edge of impatience.

You could barely look at him through your tears. “I don’t know,” you choked out. “She doesn’t want to leech… I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Joel stepped closer; his face drawn into a tight expression. “Give her to me,” he said firmly, reaching out. “You’re going to stress her out.”

The words hit you like a slap. You froze, staring at him in disbelief. “You’ve known her for two weeks, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling with hurt. “You don’t know what she wants.”

Joel’s face darkened, a flash of irritation crossing his features. “I know better,” he shot back, his tone almost dismissive. “I’ve been a father before. I know what a baby needs.”

The implication that you didn’t know what you were doing as a mother stung so deeply that it left you momentarily speechless. Your hands shook as you handed Rosie over to him, the words you wanted to say lodged painfully in your throat. As he took her, your gaze shifted to the table, the cold food sitting there, untouched. You had tried so hard to make something work tonight, to find a way to bridge the growing distance, but now it felt like all your efforts were in vain.

Joel glanced at the table, his eyes landing on the uneaten meal, and you saw the realization hit him. His face softened, his anger dissipating as the weight of what just happened sank in. “I—” he started, trying to find the words, but you couldn’t listen. You couldn’t stand the sight of him trying to fix something he didn’t understand.

You walked back into the house, your feet heavy with exhaustion, both physical and emotional. You could hear Joel calling after you, his voice soft but filled with so much urgency. “Wait,” he pleaded, but you didn’t stop.

You couldn’t.

The weight of everything he’d said crushed you. It wasn’t just about this moment; it was days of him being distant, of feeling like you were carrying it all alone. You had done it for so long, and now, with him back, it felt like nothing had changed.

You reached the bedroom, stepping inside before turning and quietly closing the door. With trembling hands, you locked it. The soft click of the lock echoed in the stillness of the room. It wasn’t a loud sound, but it might as well have been a final barrier between you and Joel.

“Hey… hey, open the door,” Joel called from the other side, his voice thick with desperation. “Please, just talk to me.”

But you couldn’t answer. Not now. You pressed your back against the door, sliding down to the floor as your knees gave way, the tears spilling out uncontrollably. You hugged your arms around your knees, trying to hold yourself together, but it felt impossible.

“Come on,” Joel begged, his voice muffled by the door but still pleading. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out. I—damn it—just open the door. We can talk.”

Outside, you could hear Joel’s hand resting against the door, as if he was trying to feel your presence on the other side. “I don’t know what to say to fix this,” he admitted, his voice cracking. “But I need you to know that I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here all night if I have to.”

But the space between you felt vast. Even though you knew he was just on the other side of the door, it was as if he were miles away. The crying from Rosie grew louder, and you could hear the frustration in Joel’s voice.

“Please… don’t do this,” he whispered.

But you still didn’t answer. You couldn’t. And in that moment, the only sound filling the void between you and Joel was Rosie’s cries. They echoed through the house, a reminder of the tiny life you were both trying to protect, yet somehow feeling further apart from each other than ever before.

You sat there, leaning against the door, feeling the weight of everything pressing down on you. When had it all become too much? You weren’t this weak before. You were strong, you had to be. You had been through so much, survived so much, and yet here you were, crumbling under the pressure of emotions that you couldn’t control.

You didn’t know when you had let it all get to this point. When the doubts, the fears, and the weight of trying to be enough, both for Rosie and for Joel, had started to consume you. It was like you had been holding it together for so long, and now, everything was unraveling.

You used to pride yourself on being able to handle it all. But now… now you felt like you were drowning. The tears wouldn’t stop, and you hated that. You hated feeling this weak, hated that your emotions had taken the best of you. That you couldn’t just push it down and be the strong person you had always been.

Rosie’s cries brought you back to the moment, but even her soft whimpers only made the ache in your chest deepen. You wanted to get up, to soothe her, but you felt so drained, so completely overwhelmed, that you couldn’t even move.

The sound of Joel’s voice, still pleading softly from the other side of the door, was like a distant echo in the back of your mind. You could hear his pain, but it was almost too much to bear. You knew he was hurting too, but how could you comfort him or your daughter when you couldn’t even find the strength to comfort yourself?

You rested your head against the cool wood of the door, closing your eyes, trying to pull yourself together. But every time you thought you could, that tight feeling in your chest came back, choking you with a flood of emotions you couldn’t control.

“I don’t know when I became this weak,” you whispered to yourself, your voice barely audible over the sound of Rosie’s cries and Joel’s muffled pleas.

Somewhere deep down, you knew you weren’t weak. You were tired, tired of carrying it all on your own, tired of pretending to be okay when you weren’t. But in this moment, it was hard to remember that. Hard to remember the strength that had gotten you this far.

Paul’s words echoed in your mind like an unwelcome refrain, twisting and turning until they felt like a noose tightening around your thoughts. “You can’t do this alone.” “He won’t come back.” Each phrase replayed like a haunting melody, suffocating your resolve.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block them out, but they clung to you like shadows. “You’re not strong enough for this. You’re just going to end up hurt.” The memories of those moments, his condescending tone, the way he had looked at you as if you were fragile, were like needles piercing through the fragile veneer you had built around yourself.

But you weren’t fragile. You had survived against all odds, faced every challenge thrown your way, and yet here you were, paralyzed by a single man’s cruel words. You had spent nights comforting Rosie when she cried, soothing her fears, and yet, when it came to yourself, you found it impossible to extend that same compassion.

The weight of it all felt unbearable. You were torn between the love you felt for Rosie and Joel and the crippling fear that you were failing them both. The thought of losing Joel again, of having him walk away because you couldn’t hold it together, made your heart race with panic.

What if Paul was right? What if you were a burden? The nagging doubts clawed at your mind, urging you to believe that you were unworthy of the love and support surrounding you. “He left you.”

You let out a choked sob, unable to suppress the flood of emotions any longer. “I can’t… I can’t do this,” you murmured, the words slipping out between shaky breaths. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of uncertainty, gasping for air but finding none.

Just then, Rosie’s cries escalated, piercing through your turmoil. The sound broke through the fog of despair, a reminder that she needed you, that you were her mother.

With a shaky breath, you pushed off the door and stood up and opened the door, immediately facing Joel with despair in his eyes.

Joel's heart sank at the sight of you, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cradled Rosie in your arms. He stepped forward, his hands reaching out instinctively. “I’m here,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m here.”

You could see the concern etched across his features, but all you felt was an overwhelming wave of emotion that threatened to engulf you. “She just wanted her mother,” you whispered, your voice shaking. “I don’t know how to do this, Joel. I thought I could, but…”

Joel’s heart ached at your vulnerability. He stepped closer, wrapping his arms around you and Rosie, pulling you both into a tight embrace. “You’re doing better than you think,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re a great mother. I’ve seen it. I see the way you care for her.”

You leaned into Joel’s embrace, but the warmth of his body only made the tears flow harder. “You don’t understand,” you sobbed, pulling away slightly to look into his eyes. “I don’t feel like a great mother. Every time I look at her, it hurts. I thought I could handle it.”

Joel’s expression shifted to one of concern as he took a step back, his hands gently resting on your shoulders. “Hey, it’s okay to feel overwhelmed. This isn’t easy for any of us. But I promise you, you’re not alone in this. You’ve been doing everything you can.”

You shook your head, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “But I’m not doing enough! I can hear Paul’s words in my head, telling me I can’t do this alone, that you wouldn’t come back for me-”

“But I’m here, I came back.” He spoke, his tone reassuring your doubts.

You shook your head, “No you didn’t. You’re just half of what you were before.”

Joel’s expression faltered, hurt flickering across his features. “I know I’m not the same,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I’m trying. I’m here, and I want to be here for you and Rosie. You have to believe that.”

You stepped back, shaking your head as the tears streamed down your face. “But it doesn’t feel like enough. I thought you’d come back ready to fight for us, but instead, it feels like I’m still alone. You’re not the person I fell in love with. You’ve got so many walls up, and I don’t know how to break through them.”

“I’m trying to let those walls down,” he said, desperation creeping into his voice. “But it’s hard, okay? I’ve been through things you can’t even begin to understand, and I’m just trying to process it all. But I don’t want to lose you, too.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. “You’re not going to lose me because I’m not going anywhere. I’m stuck here, Joel! Stuck with all these feelings and fears, and you’re acting like you don’t even want to try.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustration and pain evident in his posture. “You think I don’t want to try? I want to be the man you need me to be, but I’m struggling, too. I can’t just forget everything that’s happened out there. I don’t know how to just turn it off.”

“I know you’re struggling,” you said, your voice breaking. “But I need you to at least try to meet me halfway.”

As Rosie’s cries grew louder, each wail felt like a reminder of the weight pressing down on both of you. You could hear her distress echoing your own turmoil, amplifying the emotions swirling in your chest. You wiped your tears, feeling the frustration mix with the overwhelming love you had for your daughter.

“I can’t handle this right now, Joel,” you said, your voice trembling as you tried to maintain your composure.

Joel's face softened, and he stepped closer, his hands reaching out tentatively. “Let me help, then. Please. I don’t want you to feel like you’re carrying this alone. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

You glanced down at Rosie, who was now whimpering, her little fists clenched as she squirmed in her crib. The sight made your heart ache, and the tears flowed more freely.

"I wish I would have died that day instead of Tess" you replied, walking back to the room.

Joel’s face twisted in pain at your words, his eyes clouding with grief and regret. He stepped closer, desperation in his voice. "Don't say that. Don’t ever say that. You’re the reason we’ve made it this far. Without you… I don’t know what I’d be."

But your mind was spinning, tangled in the emotions you couldn’t unravel. Rosie’s cries felt like a mirror of your own inner turmoil, and each sob felt like a weight pressing deeper on your chest. You rubbed at your face, trying to push away the tears that kept falling. “I’m tired, Joel,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath.

Joel looked down at Rosie, who had quieted slightly but still whimpered softly, her tiny face scrunched in discomfort. He exhaled slowly, his hands trembling as he reached out toward you but then let them fall back to his sides. I should have helped sooner. I didn’t—" His voice caught in his throat. "I didn’t realize how much you needed me to be here."

You shook your head, a bitter laugh escaping you. "No, Joel, you didn’t. And now, I don’t know if you ever really will be. You’re here, but half of you is still somewhere out there, and I don’t know how to reach that part of you.”

Your hands trembled as you held Rosie, her soft whimpers clawing at your already frayed nerves. The exhaustion, the hurt, the overwhelming sense of responsibility, it was all crashing down on you. You couldn’t take it anymore.

“Just make her stop crying,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you handed Rosie to Joel, your arms suddenly feeling too weak to hold her any longer. The moment Joel took her from you, the sob you had been holding in finally escaped. Your chest tightened, and for a second, everything seemed to blur around you.

Before Joel could respond, your body gave way to the exhaustion consuming you for so long. Your vision darkened as you slumped forward, your world fading into black as you passed out.

You pressed yourself against the cold, concrete wall of the Quarantine Zone, your heart pounding in your chest as you listened to the footsteps of the guards patrolling nearby. You had always been good at finding places to hide, but lately, the tension in the air had made even your usual spots feel less safe.

You had come to the trading post with the intention of scrounging up some supplies for yourself, but you had miscalculated the risks. Now, hiding from the guards had become a habit—one you were starting to regret.

Just as you thought you were in the clear, you heard a voice from behind you. “What are you doing back here?”

You turned to find a man standing a few feet away, his brow furrowed with curiosity. He was older than you, with a rugged look that spoke of hard living, and something in his eyes hinted at a depth of experience.

“Just… hiding,” you replied, trying to sound casual even though your heart raced at the prospect of being caught.

He chuckled softly, a sound that was surprisingly comforting. “You’re gonna get yourself into trouble doing that. You know the guards won’t hesitate to drag you in if they catch you.”

“I’m not afraid of them,” you said defiantly, but your voice wavered slightly.

“Yeah? You sure about that?” He stepped closer, his gaze assessing you. “You think you can take them on?”

You shrugged, feeling a mix of bravado and fear. “I can handle myself.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. “Maybe. But it’s always better to have someone watching your back.”

You looked at him, searching for any hint of deceit in his expression, but all you saw was honesty and a hint of amusement. “And what’s your name?” you asked, intrigued despite yourself.

“Joel,” he replied, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a faint smile. “And you’re a long way from safe out here, kid.”

“Kid? I’m not a kid,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“Sure you’re not,” he said, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But you’d be surprised how fast things can go sideways in this world. Better to be careful.”

Just then, the guards’ voices echoed down the hallway, and you felt your stomach drop. Without thinking, you grabbed Joel’s arm and pulled him into the small space behind some crates.

“What are you doing?” he asked, his voice low, a mix of surprise and approval.

“Hiding,” you whispered, your breath quickening as the guards drew closer.

He didn’t protest, instead leaning in slightly, his presence solid and reassuring. The guards passed by, their footsteps fading into the distance, and you let out a shaky breath.

“That was close,” you muttered, still pressed against him.

He glanced down at you, the tension of the moment breaking slightly. “You know, if you keep this up, I might have to start charging you for my help.”

You looked up at him, catching the flicker of a smile on his lips. “Yeah, right. You’re just as likely to get caught with me around.”

Joel chuckled, shaking his head. “Maybe. But I think I can manage.”

When the coast was clear, you cautiously peeked out from behind the crates. “Thanks for that,” you said, a bit shyly. “I didn’t expect to find someone like you back here.”

When you finally stirred, your head throbbed, and for a moment, everything felt hazy. You blinked, your vision blurry as you slowly came back to consciousness. The room was dim, and you struggled to remember what had happened, but as your senses sharpened, you realized you were lying on the couch. You felt something cold against your forehead—a damp cloth—and when you turned your head slightly, you were met with Paul’s concerned face.

“Hey,” he said softly, crouching next to the couch, his hand still holding the cloth. “You gave us a scare.”

Confusion swirled in your mind. “Paul?” Your voice was hoarse, and you winced at how weak it sounded. “What are you doing here?”

Paul sighed, his expression serious but gentle. “Joel was a mess. He didn’t know what to do, so he came and got me.” He glanced over his shoulder, where you saw Joel standing by the doorway, his face a mix of guilt and helplessness. His eyes were fixed on you, but he didn’t say a word.

The memory of what had happened earlier hit you like a punch to the gut. The crying, the exhaustion, the overwhelming sense of defeat—and then nothing. You tried to sit up, but Paul gently pushed you back down.

“Take it easy,” he urged. “You’ve been out for a while.”

Rosie’s soft whimpers caught your attention, and you turned your head to see her in Joel’s arms. He was gently bouncing her, trying to soothe her, but his eyes kept darting back to you. You could see the strain on his face, the weight of everything that had happened between you both etched into every line of his expression.

“I’m fine,” you mumbled, even though you felt anything but fine. You wanted to tell Paul to leave, to tell Joel that you didn’t need him to bring someone else to take care of you, but the words stuck in your throat.

Paul raised an eyebrow. “You passed out from exhaustion. That’s not ‘fine,’ and you know it.” He glanced at Joel again before turning back to you. “You’ve been pushing yourself too hard. You don’t even have your spark anymore” he added, carrying a sense of undertone that made your anger raise.

The insinuation stung, and beneath your exhaustion, frustration flared to life. How dare he stand there and judge you? How dare he talk about something he couldn’t possibly understand? You’d been doing everything you could to hold it together, to take care of Rosie, to keep going. But now, with the weight of his words, it felt like everything was crumbling.

Your hands clenched into fists as you sat up, despite Paul’s earlier insistence that you rest. “Get out of my house.”

Paul raised his hands, backing off a little, but there was still something in his expression that fueled your frustration. “I’m just saying you don’t have to do this all alone.”

“I know I don’t!” you shot back. You don’t know what it’s like—” Your voice caught in your throat, and you couldn’t finish. The exhaustion, the frustration, the overwhelming sense of failure all clashed inside of you.

Joel, who had been standing silently with Rosie, stepped forward, his voice quiet but firm. “I think that’s enough.” There was a tension in his tone, something protective.

Paul’s expression shifted, his calm demeanor faltering as he glanced between you and Joel. “You deserve someone who’s going to actually be there for you,” he said, his voice laced with an edge of condescension. “Not someone who’s half here, someone who’s too wrapped up in their own demons to care for you or Rosie.” He shot a pointed look at Joel, clearly implying that he wasn’t the man for you.

That was it. Joel’s face hardened, his jaw clenched tight. Without a word, he gently placed Rosie down in her crib, making sure she was safe, and then he turned back toward Paul. The tension in the room thickened, and before you could react, Joel strode forward with purpose.

“Joel, don’t—” you started, but it was too late.

In one swift movement, Joel’s fist connected with Paul’s jaw, sending him stumbling backward. The force of the punch was strong, a raw release of all the frustration and anger Joel had been holding back. Paul let out a grunt of pain, clutching his face as he tried to steady himself.

“Get out,” Joel growled, his voice low and dangerous. His usually composed demeanor was gone, replaced by a fierce protectiveness. “You don’t come into our home and tell her what she deserves.”

Paul straightened up, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth, his eyes filled with a mix of shock and anger. “You think this is going to change anything?” he spat, glaring at Joel. “She deserves better than you, and deep down, you know it.”

Joel took a step closer, his fists still clenched, but you quickly moved between them, your heart racing. “Stop,” you said, your voice trembling. You couldn’t deal with this right now—the fighting, the anger, the tension.

Paul shot one last glare at Joel before turning his gaze toward you. “You know where to find me when you finally realize what you deserve.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked out, leaving the door wide open behind him.

For a moment, there was silence. You stood there, your body tense, your mind racing. Joel was still breathing heavily, the adrenaline from the confrontation clearly not yet faded. He glanced down at you, his face softening as he saw the strain and exhaustion in your eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Joel said quietly, his voice rough. “I shouldn’t have done that.”

You didn’t respond immediately, the weight of everything pressing down on you again. Finally, you took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself. "Don't listen to him, you deserve me. But right now, Joel, you’re being an asshole." you said walking back to the bedroom.

He opened his mouth to respond, but the exhaustion in your face, the weight you were carrying, silenced him. You didn’t wait for an answer. Turning away, you walked back toward the bedroom, the thud of your footsteps matching the heavy thrum of your heartbeat. You could feel his gaze on you, but you didn’t turn around. The last few days had taken their toll, and you were too drained to face another argument.

As you reached the bedroom door, you paused for a moment, your hand resting on the frame. You wanted to say more, to explain the hurt and frustration swirling inside you, but the words felt stuck, tangled in the knot of emotions you’d been holding in for too long.

Without looking back, you stepped into the room and shut the door softly behind you. The quiet click of the lock felt like a small barrier between you and the chaos outside, but even in the solitude of the bedroom, the weight of everything pressed down on you.

You walked over to the bed, your legs heavy with exhaustion, and sat on the edge. Your body ached, not from any physical strain but from the emotional toll of everything you’d been through. The fight with Paul, the tension with Joel, the constant pressure to be strong for Rosie, it was all catching up with you.

You buried your face in your hands, letting out a shaky breath as the tears threatened to spill over again. “I just want things to be okay,” you whispered to yourself, but the room offered no answers, no relief from the storm raging inside you.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft sound of Rosie stirring in her crib. The sunlight was just beginning to filter through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow over the room. You blinked a few times, feeling the remnants of exhaustion still clinging to you, but instinctively, you moved to tend to your daughter.

Rosie let out a little whimper as you gently lifted her into your arms, and you rocked her softly, humming a quiet tune. The peace of the early morning felt like a small reprieve from the storm of emotions from the night before. For a moment, it was just you and her, the world outside the bedroom door distant.

As you fed Rosie, your eyes drifted to the slightly open door, and a thought crossed your mind. Once she had finished and you had settled her back down, you quietly left the room, padding down the hallway in your socks.

You stopped when you reached the living room, your heart giving a little tug at the sight before you. Joel was asleep on the couch, his body curled up slightly, his face turned away from the room. His breathing was slow and even, but there was something about the way he lay there, like the weight of everything had finally knocked him down, that made your heart ache.

He looked so tired, the lines of stress etched into his face even in sleep. For a long moment, you just stood there, watching him. Despite everything, despite the arguments and the walls between you, there was still that pull, the part of you that loved him so deeply it hurt.

But you couldn’t ignore how broken things had become, how much distance had grown between you, and how helpless you’d felt in the middle of it all. You didn’t know how to fix it, but seeing him there, so vulnerable, softened something inside you.

You approached the couch slowly, hesitant. You didn’t want to wake him, not yet. But you stood by the edge of the couch, looking down at him, your fingers tightening around the fabric of your sleeves as you tried to figure out what to do next.

The tension between you two from the night before still hung in the air, but for the first time in days, you felt a flicker of hope. Maybe it wasn’t too late to reach him. Maybe there was still a way back to each other.

In the kitchen, you set about making a quiet breakfast, keeping your movements soft and deliberate. The sound of eggs sizzling in the pan and the aroma of fresh coffee filled the air, creating a sense of normalcy that had been absent for a while. It was strange how these small routines—things you used to take for granted—now felt like lifelines.

As you stirred the coffee, your mind wandered back to the tension from the day before. Paul’s words, Joel’s anger, your own emotional breakdown—it all swirled around in your head like a storm you couldn’t quite escape. You felt the familiar knot tighten in your chest, but you took a deep breath, grounding yourself in the simple task of making breakfast.

You heard a soft shuffle behind you and turned to see Joel standing in the doorway, his hair tousled from sleep, his expression a mix of fatigue and hesitation. He looked at you for a moment, then glanced down at his feet, clearly unsure of what to say after everything that had happened.

"I... didn’t mean to fall asleep on the couch," he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. "I was going to come back to bed."

You nodded, not entirely sure how to respond. Part of you wanted to tell him it was okay, that you understood, but another part of you was still so hurt, so weighed down by everything that had been left unsaid between you.

Instead, you turned back to the stove, flipping the eggs onto a plate. "Breakfast is almost ready," you said quietly, keeping your tone neutral.

Joel hesitated for a moment before stepping closer. "Look, about last night..." he started, his voice soft but filled with the weight of everything unsaid.

You kept your back to him, focusing on pouring the coffee. "Let’s not do this right now, Joel. I don’t have the energy to fight today."

"It’s not about fighting," he said, his voice a little firmer now. "I just... I know I’ve been distant. I know I haven’t been the man you need me to be, and I hate that I’m making you feel like you’re alone in this. You’re not. I’m here, even when it doesn’t seem like it."

You finally turned to face him, your eyes searching his face for the sincerity behind his words. He looked tired, his brown eyes filled with a mix of regret and something deeper—something that reminded you of the man you fell in love with.

"Then why does it feel like you’re somewhere else?" you asked softly, your voice tinged with the vulnerability you’d been trying to hide.

Joel took a slow breath, stepping closer until he was standing right in front of you. "Because part of me is," he admitted, his voice rough. "There are things I’ve been holding onto—things from out there, from everything I’ve done to keep us safe. I thought I was protecting you by keeping it all inside, but I can see now that it’s only been pushing you away."

You swallowed hard, feeling a lump form in your throat.

He nodded; his eyes filled with emotion. "I’m trying, I swear. But I’m scared—scared that if you knew everything, you’d see me differently."

You reached out then, placing a hand on his chest. "I already know you, Joel. I know what you’ve done, and I still love you. But we can’t keep doing this—this back and forth, this shutting each other out. It’s breaking us."

Joel looked down at your hand on his chest, covering it with his own. "I don’t want to lose you," he said quietly, his voice raw with emotion.

“You’re losing me now” you whispered.

Joel’s expression shifted, a flicker of something dark passing over his face, and his hand tightened slightly around yours. For a moment, the room felt impossibly still, as if the world itself was holding its breath. He looked away, his gaze drifting toward the window, avoiding your eyes as though what he was about to say was too much to bear.

“I lied,” Joel said, his voice low and strained, barely louder than a whisper. “To Ellie… about what happened with the Fireflies.”

You blinked, confusion rippling through you, trying to grasp what he meant. "What do you mean you lied?"

His jaw clenched as he struggled to find the words. “I told her they couldn’t find a cure. That they ran some tests and it didn’t work. But… that wasn’t the truth.”

A sick feeling churned in your stomach, your heart racing as you tried to process what he was telling you. "Joel... what are you saying?" you asked, your voice shaky, almost afraid to hear the answer.

He looked at you then, his brown eyes filled with guilt, the weight of it crushing him. “They were going to use her… to make the cure. But to do that, they would’ve had to kill her.”

The air seemed to rush out of the room as the realization hit you. "Oh my God," you breathed, stepping back slightly, your hand slipping from his chest. "You... you stopped them."

Joel nodded, his face tight with regret. "I didn’t give them a choice. I couldn’t let them take her life, even if it meant sacrificing the chance for a cure. I killed them. All of them.”

You stood there, frozen, your mind reeling as you tried to comprehend the enormity of what he had done. The weight of his decision, the lives lost, the potential cure for humanity—gone because he couldn’t bear to lose Ellie. It was a truth that hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you breathless and disoriented.

"She doesn’t know, does she?" you whispered, your voice barely audible. "Ellie doesn’t know the truth."

Joel shook his head, his eyes filled with pain. "No. She still thinks there was nothing they could do. She trusts me… and I’ve been lying to her this whole time."

You covered your mouth with your hand, feeling a mix of emotions crashing over you—shock, anger, sorrow, and something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. You knew how much Ellie meant to Joel, how much she had become like a daughter to him. But this… this was something else. He had taken away her choice, her right to know the truth about her own life.

"Joel," you said, your voice trembling with disbelief. "You... you took that choice away from her. You lied to protect her, but... what if she finds out? What then?"

"I know," Joel rasped, his voice cracking. "I know what I did, and I know it was wrong. But I couldn’t lose her. I couldn’t go through that again."

You stared at him, seeing the brokenness in his eyes, the depth of his fear and guilt. He had made an impossible choice—one that had saved Ellie’s life but had cost him a piece of his soul. And now, that lie hung between you, heavy and suffocating.

"I didn’t tell you because... because I didn’t want you to look at me like this," Joel continued, his voice faltering. "Like I’m a monster."

Tears filled your eyes, but you blinked them back, trying to hold yourself together. "You’re not a monster, Joel," you said, your voice hoarse. "But this... this is so much more than I ever thought you were carrying. And it’s not just your burden to bear. You should have told me."

"I know," Joel whispered, stepping closer, his eyes pleading with you. "I’m telling you now because... because I can’t keep this from you anymore. I can’t keep shutting you out, not after everything we’ve been through."

You closed your eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to process the weight of his confession. When you opened them, you met his gaze, your voice soft but firm. "You lied to her to protect her. But you can’t keep lying, Joel. Not to me, and not to Ellie. Eventually, she’s going to find out. And when that happens… what are you going to do?"

Joel’s face crumpled, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his guilt. "I don’t know," he admitted, his voice barely audible. "But I’m terrified of losing her. And now… I’m terrified of losing you, too."

You stood there, staring at the man you loved, the man who had fought to protect the people he cared about, even if it meant making choices that would haunt him for the rest of his life. You didn’t know how to feel, didn’t know what to say, but one thing was clear, you couldn’t go back to how things were.

“And what made you think you couldn't trust me with this?” You asked him things were.

Joel sighed heavily, his arms still wrapped around you, but he didn’t meet your eyes. He pulled back slightly, his expression a mixture of guilt and fear. “It wasn’t about trust,” he said, his voice quiet and thick with emotion. “It was… fear.”

You frowned, your heart tightening at his words. “Fear of what? Of me? Of what I’d think of you?”

He shook his head, finally meeting your gaze, his eyes full of vulnerability you rarely saw in him. “No. I wasn’t afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you too. Of you seeing me for who I really am.”

You stared at him, taken aback. "Joel, I already know who you are. I've seen you at your best and your worst. You’ve always trusted me with everything, so why was this different?"

He hesitated; his voice low. "Because this… this was somethin' darker. I crossed a line that I never wanted to cross again. I did it for Ellie, but it doesn’t change what it makes me. And I didn’t want you to look at me and see a monster."

Your chest tightened at his words, and you reached up to cup his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. "Joel, you’re not a monster," you said firmly, your voice soft but steady. "You did what you thought was right, even if it wasn’t easy to understand. I may not agree with what you did, but I can’t blame you for wanting to protect her."

His eyes searched yours, as if seeking reassurance that he wasn’t beyond redemption. "You’re not scared of what I did?"

"I’m not scared of you," you said softly, stroking your thumb over his cheek. "But I need you to trust me with the truth, even when it’s ugly. Because if we don’t have that, then what do we have?"

Joel closed his eyes briefly, his face showing the toll of carrying that burden alone for so long. When he opened them again, there was a flicker of relief in his gaze, as if a weight had finally been lifted. "I should’ve told you sooner," he admitted, his voice raw with regret. "I just didn’t want to lose you too."

"You won’t lose me, Joel," you whispered.

You held him tightly, feeling the weight of his guilt and fear in the way he clung to you. His body trembled slightly, and you knew how much it took for him to open up, to let you see this side of him.

"I won’t tell her,”You whispered softly, your voice calm but firm. "I’ll carry this for you, Joel. But when you’re ready, when you feel like you can… promise me you’ll try to tell her."

Joel’s breath hitched, and he buried his face in your shoulder, his grip on you tightening as if he was afraid to let go. After a long pause, he finally nodded against you. "I promise," he murmured, his voice rough. "I’ll try."

You pulled back slightly, just enough to look into his eyes, your hands still resting gently on his shoulders. "That’s all I need, Joel," you said softly. "We’ll get through this together, just like everything else."

His eyes softened, and for the first time in what felt like a long while, you saw a glimmer of hope in them. He leaned in, resting his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your skin. "I don’t deserve you," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled faintly, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face. "You do," you whispered back. "You always have."

For a moment, the world outside didn’t matter. It was just the two of you, finding your way back to each other after everything you’d been through. And in that silence, you knew that, despite all the pain and mistakes, your bond was stronger than ever. You would carry this burden together, and when the time came, you would both face the truth with the same strength you’d always relied on.

He kissed your forehead gently, lingering there as if grounding himself in the moment. "Thank you," he said quietly.

You allowed him to get a hold of you for as long as he needed. You loved him enough for that, but you couldn’t help but feel the fear creeping upon you. The consequences this would have in the aftermath terrified you, but you would hold it for him, and for Ellie.

It was late, and the dim lights of the QZ barely flickered through the cracks in the old apartment. You had gotten used to the sounds of the place—the distant hum of generators, the occasional shouts from outside, and the ever-present sense of unease that came with living in a world so broken. But tonight was different. Tess wouldn’t be coming back, and you had already resigned yourself to the familiar routine of finding a corner to sleep in, far from Joel’s space.

You were in the middle of pulling the blanket over yourself when you heard Joel’s footsteps behind you. They were quieter than usual, hesitant almost, and you looked up, surprised to see him standing at the door of the bedroom.

He didn’t speak at first, just lingered there, his silhouette framed by the faint light from the hallway. You could see the tension in his posture, the way his hands fidgeted at his sides as if he was wrestling with something he couldn’t quite say.

As you settled under the thin blankets, the memory of that kiss—just days ago—lingered between you, unspoken but heavy in the air. It had taken you both by surprise, neither of you expecting it, but there had been something in Joel’s eyes that night, a shift, a quiet understanding. That kiss had been his way of telling you, without words, that he trusted you in a way he hadn’t trusted anyone in a long time. It wasn’t just about desire; it was about letting you in, allowing you to see a side of him he kept hidden from the world.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he cleared his throat. “You… uh, you don’t have to sleep out there tonight,” he said, his voice rough but softer than you were used to hearing from him. "There’s enough room in here."

You blinked, unsure if you’d heard him right. You’d been sharing this space for a while now, but you’d always kept a respectful distance. Joel had never given any indication that he wanted it otherwise, and you had assumed it was just easier that way. Safer, maybe.

But there he was, standing in the doorway, his eyes flickering between you and the bed behind him. There was something vulnerable in the way he stood, as if this was a question he wasn’t used to asking.

“Are you…you… want me to sleep in there?” you asked, your voice quiet, not wanting to misread the moment.

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “It’s late. Cold too. Just thought… it’d be more comfortable. For both of us.”

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t just about comfort, you could tell. There was a layer of unspoken words in his offer, a need for connection in a world that had stripped so much away.

After a moment of hesitation, you nodded, rising slowly from the corner you’d claimed. “Okay,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel stepped aside as you walked past him, letting you into the small, cramped bedroom. The bed wasn’t much—just a thin mattress and some worn blankets.

You slid under the covers, feeling the tension in the room as Joel stood there, watching you for a second longer before moving toward the other side of the bed. He lay down beside you, his body stiff and awkward at first, like he didn’t quite know how to do this. You could feel the space between you, but it was less about the physical distance and more about the emotional walls that had been built between you both over time.

For a while, neither of you said anything. The silence was heavy, filled with all the things neither of you could say. But there was something comforting in it too—a quiet understanding that, despite everything, you weren’t alone.

Just as you were starting to relax, Joel’s voice broke the silence. “I’m not good at this,” he muttered, his tone laced with self-doubt. "But I want to… I mean, I’m trying."

You turned your head to look at him, catching the faint outline of his face in the darkness. There was something so raw, so real in his words that it made your chest tighten. “Me too,” you whispered back.

He let out a long breath, as if relieved by your answer, and shifted slightly closer. Not enough to touch, but enough that the space between you felt a little smaller, a little less daunting.

You stared at the ceiling for a moment longer, your thoughts racing, trying to figure out what to say or do to break the barrier between you. And then, just as you were about to speak, you felt the bed shift as Joel turned towards you. His presence was suddenly much closer, and before you could react, his hand reached out, tentative, brushing against your arm.

You turned your head to look at him again, and even in the dim light, you could see the hesitation in his eyes. It was like he was battling with himself, wanting to reach out but not knowing if it was okay to do so.

Without thinking, you moved closer, closing the small gap between you. You could feel the warmth of his body now, the roughness of his breath as he fought against the vulnerability of the moment. And then, suddenly, his lips were on yours—soft but insistent, as if he couldn’t hold back any longer.

It was different from the first kiss. This one wasn’t hesitant or uncertain. This was Joel making a decision, deciding to let you in just a little more, to tear down one more wall. His hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he deepened the kiss, pouring everything he couldn’t say into that single moment.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathing heavily. For a long moment, neither of you said anything, the intimacy of the kiss settling around you like a blanket. You felt his hand tighten slightly on your face, a silent plea for you to understand everything he was struggling to say.

It had been a long morning since Joel left for patrol. You hadn’t said much to each other before he walked out the door, but the look he gave you was enough to tell you that he was trying—really trying to work through the mess that lay between you. It was a fragile peace, but you both knew there was no quick fix.

Rosie had been especially fussy, and after finally settling her down for a nap, you decided to go for a walk to clear your head. The weight of the past few days lingered like a storm cloud, and with Joel out, you found yourself restless, searching for some sense of normalcy. A visit to Maria seemed like a good way to pass the time. She’d always had a calming presence, and you could use some of her wisdom, especially after everything that had happened.

As you made your way through the winding streets of Jackson, the crisp autumn air nipping at your skin, you tried to shake off the lingering emotions. The town was peaceful, the sound of hammers and voices in the distance as people continued with their daily tasks. You could almost pretend everything was fine for a moment, that life was simple here.

But as you turned a corner, that fragile peace shattered.

There he was. Paul.

He was standing by the fence, talking to one of the other settlers, but the moment he saw you, his expression shifted. His eyes narrowed, and a smirk played at the corners of his lips as he excused himself from the conversation and made his way toward you.

Your stomach dropped. The last thing you wanted was to deal with him right now, not after everything that had happened with Joel. But Paul was relentless, always showing up when you least wanted him around. His words from the previous night still echoed in your mind—the way he had implied that Joel wasn’t enough for you, that you deserved better.

You squared your shoulders and tried to keep walking, hoping he’d get the hint and leave you alone. But of course, Paul never made things that easy.

“Heading somewhere?” Paul called out as he fell into step beside you, his tone casual but laced with that same undertone of smugness that had set you off before.

“I’m busy, Paul,” you replied, not bothering to look at him. “I don’t have time for this.”

He chuckled softly, the sound grating on your nerves. “You always seem to be busy these days. What, too wrapped up in playing house with Joel to even talk?”

Your jaw clenched, but you kept your gaze forward, refusing to engage.

“Come on,” Paul pressed, his voice lowering slightly as he leaned in, “you and I both know you deserve better than this. You’ve been through so much, and for what? To be stuck with a man who can’t even give you what you need? You’re not happy, and everyone can see it.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your blood boiling. “Stop,” you hissed, turning to face him now. “I don’t care what you think you know, Paul, but you don’t get to talk about my life like that. Joel’s my husband, and I’m not interested in whatever it is you think you can offer.”

Paul’s expression hardened for a moment, but then he shrugged, the smirk never quite leaving his face. “I’m just trying to help. You don’t have to settle for less, you know? I see the way you look—tired, worn down. You’re not the same woman I met when you first came here. He’s changed you.”

His words hit deeper than you wanted to admit, poking at the insecurities you’d been grappling with for so long. You knew you were tired, knew you and Joel were struggling, but you weren’t about to let Paul twist that into something it wasn’t.

“I don’t need your help,” you said, your voice low and firm. “And I’m not some broken woman waiting for you to swoop in and save me. I’m stronger than you think.”

Paul scoffed, shaking his head. “You think you’re strong? Look at you. You’re exhausted. You’re barely holding it together. How long until Joel drags you down with him? You deserve more than that, and you know it.”

You took a step back, your heart racing with a mix of anger and hurt. “This conversation is over, Paul. Leave me alone.”

But just as you turned to walk away, his hand shot out, grabbing your arm. It wasn’t forceful, but it was enough to stop you in your tracks.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice low and almost pleading now. “You don’t have to keep doing this. You don’t have to keep pretending that everything’s okay with him. I can give you a life, a real one. No more hiding, no more fear. You could be happy.”

You yanked your arm free, stepping back, your eyes blazing with anger. “I am happy, Paul,” you said, your voice shaking with emotion. “Or at least I’m trying to be. But I don’t need you or anyone else telling me what I should feel or what I deserve.”

Paul’s smirk faded then, his face hardening as he realized he wasn’t getting through to you. “Fine,” he muttered, stepping back. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all falls apart.”

Without another word, he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there, your heart pounding in your chest.

You stood there for a moment, trying to collect yourself. The encounter had left you rattled, the anger still simmering beneath your skin. But as much as Paul’s words had gotten under your skin, you knew he was wrong

You found your way to Maria’s house, still feeling the tension from the encounter with Paul clinging to your skin. When she opened the door, her face softened immediately, recognizing the weariness in your expression. She welcomed you in without hesitation, her hand resting gently on her growing belly as she led you inside.

“How’re you holding up?” Maria asked, her voice filled with genuine concern as she guided you to sit down at the kitchen table.

You forced a small smile, trying to shake off the weight of everything. “I’m… managing. How about you? How’s the pregnancy going?”

Maria’s face lit up slightly, her hand instinctively moving to rub her belly. “It’s been good, mostly. Tiring, of course. But Tommy’s been helping a lot, and the baby’s healthy, so I can’t complain.” She paused, giving you a knowing look. “But something tells me you didn’t come here just to check in on me.”

You sighed, running a hand through your hair. “I just needed to get out of the house. Things have been… rough.”

Maria didn’t press, simply nodding as she sat across from you. “It’s not easy, I know that much. You and Joel have been through a lot.”

You stared down at your hands, feeling the familiar sting of frustration building inside you again. “Yeah, we have. But it feels like everything’s falling apart, and I don’t know how to keep it together.”

There was a long silence between you, the weight of your words settling into the space. Maria’s eyes softened, understanding far beyond what she needed to say. She didn’t offer advice or try to fix things—she just listened. And in that moment, it was exactly what you needed.

After a few more minutes of small talk, you glanced at Rosie, who had been dozing off in her carrier. The sight of her, so small and peaceful, tugged at your heart, but it also made you feel even more trapped. You needed space to breathe, to think.

“Maria,” you said hesitantly, “could you… could you take care of Rosie for a little while? I just need some time. I won’t be gone long, I promise.”

Maria’s brows furrowed slightly, concern creeping into her expression, but she didn’t question you. “Of course,” she said gently, reaching for Rosie’s carrier. “You go do what you need to do. She’ll be safe with me.”

You nodded, grateful, but you couldn’t shake the guilt that tugged at you as you handed Rosie over. You hated feeling like you were running away, but the walls in Jackson were closing in on you, and you needed a break—just a moment to clear your head.

After making sure everything was set for Rosie, you thanked Maria again and left the house, the cool air of Jackson hitting your face as you stepped outside. Your heart raced as you made your way through the town, your mind already spinning with the familiar plan that had once been second nature to you.

Sneaking out of from a place wasn’t something you’d done in a long time, but the muscle memory kicked in as soon as you approached the outer edge of the settlement. You knew the weak points, the places where the patrols didn’t keep a close eye. You’d used these routes before in different places, and now that you needed you were going to use your skills for it.

You slipped through a wall, your pulse quickening as you moved into the wilderness beyond the walls of Jackson. The trees were thick, their branches swaying in the gentle breeze, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a sense of relief wash over you. Out here, there were no arguments, no pressure, no expectations. Just the quiet hum of nature, the sound of your boots crunching softly against the earth.

You didn’t go far, just enough to feel like you were truly alone, away from the weight of everything you’d been carrying. You found a small clearing, the sun filtering through the leaves in soft beams, and you sank down onto a fallen log, finally letting yourself exhale.

Out here, with nothing but the wind and the trees, you felt like you could finally breathe again. The emotions you’d been holding in for so long came crashing down, and before you could stop them, the tears started to fall.

It was quiet. Peaceful. And for a little while, you allowed yourself to let go.

The sun was starting to set by the time Joel returned from patrol, his body aching from the long day. He walked toward the house, expecting to hear the familiar sounds of Rosie’s coos or your footsteps in the background. But as he approached the front door, the sight of Maria standing there, cradling Rosie in her arms, made something in his stomach drop.

Rosie stirred in Maria’s arms, her tiny face scrunching up as if sensing the tension in the air. Joel’s heart raced, and he immediately scanned the area, looking for you, but you were nowhere to be seen. His brow furrowed, the unease settling deep in his gut as he stepped forward.

Tommy, who had been standing a few feet behind Maria, crossed his arms, his expression tense as he waited for Joel to notice him. When Joel finally turned to him, there was a flicker of understanding in Tommy’s eyes, like he knew something Joel didn’t.

"Where is she?" Joel’s voice was rough, laced with a mixture of confusion and dread. His gaze darted back to Maria, then to Tommy, searching for answers.

Maria shifted her weight, carefully rocking Rosie as she spoke, her voice soft but firm. “She left earlier today. Came to me, asked if I could take care of Rosie for a bit.”

Joel’s stomach twisted, and his mind immediately jumped to the worst. “She left? Alone?”

Maria hesitated for a moment, her eyes locking with Joel’s before she nodded. “She needed space, Joel. She didn’t say much, but… I could tell she was feeling overwhelmed. She didn’t say where she was going, just that she needed some time to herself.”

Joel’s chest tightened, and he felt the anger and fear rise up inside of him. “And you just let her go?” His voice was louder now, filled with an edge of panic. “Did she leave Jackson by herself?”

Tommy stepped forward, putting a hand on Joel’s shoulder, trying to calm him down. “Easy, man. She’s done this before, you know that. She knows how to take care of herself.”

“But not now!” Joel snapped, shrugging off Tommy’s hand. “Not with everything that’s happened! Not with—” He stopped himself, his voice cracking as the weight of it all bore down on him. He thought of everything you’d been through, everything you hadn’t told him, and the fear that he had pushed you too far gnawed at him.

Maria spoke up again, her tone steady but understanding. “She needed a break, Joel. She’s not running away. She just needed time to think, to breathe. You know how hard things have been on her. She wouldn’t leave Rosie behind unless she trusted me to take care of her.”

Joel’s jaw clenched, and he paced for a moment, his mind spinning with the endless possibilities of where you could’ve gone. His fists tightened, and he cursed under his breath. The image of you out there alone, with nothing but your thoughts and the dangers beyond Jackson’s walls, filled him with a panic he hadn’t felt in years.

Tommy, sensing Joel’s desperation, spoke quietly, trying to offer some reassurance. “We can go look for her, Joel. You know she’s probably out in the woods, where she always goes when she needs some space.”

Joel ran a hand over his face, frustration and worry etched into every line of his features. He glanced at Rosie, who was now peacefully asleep in Maria’s arms, and the sight of his daughter’s small, fragile form made his heart twist painfully.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Joel muttered, more to himself than anyone else. “I shouldn’t have left her like this.”

Maria shook her head, her voice soft but firm. “This isn’t your fault, Joel. She just needed time. But she’ll be back.”

Joel swallowed hard, guilt gnawing at him as the weight of everything settled on his shoulders. He glanced at Tommy; his eyes filled with a silent plea. “I’m gonna find her.”

Outside, the world felt vast and overwhelming. You wandered through the familiar paths of the woods, your mind swirling with thoughts and emotions you couldn’t quite grasp. The trees stood tall and silent around you, their shadows stretching out like dark fingers, reflecting the turmoil inside your heart.

You thought of your sister, of the bond you once shared, and how her absence left a gaping hole in your life. Memories of laughter and warmth collided with the stark reality of survival in this harsh world. There was a time when everything felt different, when hope seemed tangible rather than just a flicker of light in the distance.

But now, all you could feel was the weight of responsibility pressing down on you like a heavy cloak. Rosie was a precious gift, but taking care of her felt like an insurmountable task some days. You loved her fiercely, but there were moments when the exhaustion threatened to overwhelm you, the anxiety about whether you were doing enough gnawing at the edges of your mind. Would you be able to protect her? Could you give her the life she deserved in a world filled with danger and uncertainty?

You leaned against a sturdy tree, closing your eyes for a moment, letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. In the silence, you could almost hear your sister’s laughter, the way she used to tease you about everything and nothing. If she were here, she would know what to say to make things feel right again. She would tell you that you were stronger than you thought, that you could handle this, even on the toughest days.

But she wasn’t here, and the loneliness crept in, wrapping around you like a cold shroud. You couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing yourself, that you were more than just a mother now. You were a woman who had once fought fiercely for her own survival, for the lives of those she loved. You felt like you were at a crossroads, and you didn’t know which path to take.

As you pushed yourself off the tree and began walking again, your thoughts drifted back to Rosie. Every time you looked into her eyes, you saw hope, innocence, and a future that felt uncertain. You wanted to be the mother she deserved, to show her love and strength, but the weight of the world felt too heavy to carry alone.

You stopped again, this time looking up at the sky. The sun was starting to dip below the horizon, casting warm hues of orange and pink across the landscape. It was beautiful and calming, a stark contrast to the chaos in your heart. You took a deep breath, letting the fresh air fill your lungs, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

But just as the beauty around you began to ease your mind, the thoughts of Joel flooded back in. The way he had looked at you when you left, the pain etched into his features. You could feel the weight of his unspoken fears, his struggles, and the barriers he had built around himself. You understood that he was fighting his own demons, just as you were.

Maybe you both needed to find a way back to each other, to break through the walls that had formed between you in this chaotic world. But how could you do that when you felt so lost?

As the last rays of sun disappeared, darkness began to settle in, and a chill crept into the air. It was time to head back, back to the warmth of the home you had built with Joel and Rosie. You took one last look at the fading light, hoping that by returning, you could find a way to reconnect, to start rebuilding what had felt broken for so long.

As you made your way back through the woods, the tranquility of the setting sun was abruptly interrupted by a soft but unmistakable sound—a twig snapping underfoot, somewhere off to your right. Your heart quickened, instinctively alerting you to the potential danger lurking in the shadows.

You paused, scanning the area around you, the fading light casting long shadows among the trees. The woods felt eerily silent for a moment, as if the world was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen. The last rays of sun slipped away, and you strained to listen, your pulse pounding in your ears.

Another sound—a branch rustling, followed by the faint crunch of leaves. You took a step back, instinctively reaching for the small knife tucked into your belt. Your breath hitched as adrenaline coursed through you, heightening your senses.

"Hello?" you called out, your voice steady despite the fear creeping in. The response was silence, thick and heavy, adding to your anxiety. You couldn’t afford to let your guard down.

Your mind raced through the possibilities. It could be an animal, or worse—another person, someone with malicious intent. You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself. You were not helpless; you had survived this long for a reason.

You shifted your weight, ready to either fight or flee if necessary. “If you’re out there, you’d better show yourself!” you warned, your voice firm.

Suddenly, the underbrush shifted again, and a figure emerged from the trees, stepping into the dim light. Your heart dropped as recognition washed over you.

Joel emerged from the shadows, his expression a mix of concern and relief, and before he could say something. You felt a rush of conflicting emotions. The comfort of seeing him clashed with the frustration that had built up over the day. “I just needed some air,” you replied defensively. “Is that a crime?” you paused, “How did you know I was here?”

Joel stepped into the clearing, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as he took in the sight of you. The mix of relief and frustration on his face mirrored your own. “It’s not the first time I find you hiding” he smiled at the memory of your first encounter.

You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth at the memory he invoked. It was a different time, a different life when the world felt a bit less heavy. You recalled the first time you’d met Joel, crouched in the shadows of the quarantine zone, evading guards after a botched trade.

He had stumbled upon you, a rugged man with a wary gaze, just as you had thought you’d gotten away. You could still picture his surprised expression when he found you hiding behind a pile of crates. “What are you doing back here?” he had asked, his voice low and gravelly.

“Just… waiting for the right moment to slip away,” you had replied, trying to sound nonchalant despite the pounding of your heart.

“Seems like you’ve got a knack for getting into trouble,” he’d said, a hint of amusement in his tone. It had taken you aback, how this stranger could see through your bravado with just a few words.

You shook your head to push away the nostalgia, forcing your focus back to the present. “That was a long time ago,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions churning inside you. “Things are different now.”

“I know they are,” Joel replied, his gaze unwavering. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t take a breather sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak.”

You stood up straighter, still holding the knife but no longer on edge. “I needed to clear my head,” you replied, your voice calm but firm. “I needed to feel like I could still do this. Like I’m not just—”

“Just what?” Joel interrupted, stepping closer. His voice softened, and for the first time in days, you saw the raw emotion in his eyes. “You’re more than just a mother, you know that.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words hitting you. “It doesn’t feel that way,” you admitted, your voice wavering. “I’ve lost myself, Joel. I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know if I can do this—be a mother, be what Rosie needs. Be what you need.”

Joel’s face softened, and he closed the distance between you, his hand reaching out to gently touch your arm. “You don’t have to do it alone,” he said, his voice low. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

You shook your head, pulling back slightly, the doubt still gnawing at you. “But it’s not the same. You were gone, and I— I handled everything, but it feels like I’m failing now. I’m not enough.”

Joel stepped closer again, his hand reaching out to cradle your face. “You’re more than enough,” he whispered, his eyes searching yours. “I know it’s been hard, and I know I haven’t been the easiest to deal with. But you’ve been strong. You’ve done more than anyone could ask. And you don’t have to prove anything to anyone—not to me, not to Paul, not to yourself.”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked at him, the vulnerability and exhaustion finally catching up to you. “I just… I just wanted to remember who I was before all of this. Before I became—”

Joel cut you off, his voice soft but firm. “You haven’t lost who you are. You’re still you, just… more. More love, more strength, more everything.”

His words hit you in a way you hadn’t expected. The knife slipped from your hand, falling to the ground with a soft thud. You reached up, covering your face with your hands as the tears came, the weight of everything finally crashing down on you.

Joel didn’t hesitate. He pulled you into his arms, holding you close as you cried into his chest, his hands running gently through your hair. “You don’t have to carry this alone,” he murmured. “I’ve got you.”

For the first time in a long time, you believed him.

After what felt like hours but was probably only minutes, you pulled back, wiping your eyes. Joel looked at you with such tenderness, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. “Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s go home.”

You nodded.

Joel leaned in, his eyes searching yours for a moment, as if he was asking for permission. You held your breath, feeling the tension in the air shift, charged with an unspoken understanding. Then, he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours gently.

The kiss was soft at first, hesitant but filled with a warmth that spread through you like sunlight breaking through the clouds. You melted against him, feeling the weight of the world start to lift as you leaned into his embrace.

He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “There’s that spark I’ve been missing,” he whispered, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You chuckled softly, feeling a mixture of relief and affection.

“I love you,” Joel said, his voice earnest and filled with emotion. “I’m sorry for everything—everything I’ve done, everything I’ve said that made you feel alone. You deserve so much more than I’ve given you.”

His admission hung in the air, and you could feel your heart swell at his words. “You’re the reason I’m alive, Joel,” you replied softly. “I don’t think I would have made it this far without you. You gave me hope when I thought I had lost it all.”

He shook his head, his eyes glistening with sincerity. “No, you don’t understand. I don’t know where I’d be without you. You saved me in ways I can’t even begin to explain. You brought light back into my life when all I felt was darkness.”

A lump formed in your throat, and you felt the tears welling up again. “We saved each other, Joel. This isn’t just you. We’re in this together, and we always will be.”

He smiled, a mixture of relief and gratitude in his expression. “Together, then,” he said, the weight of his past starting to lift as he looked into your eyes.

Joel leaned in once more, capturing your lips in a more passionate kiss, filled with the promise

“Just promise me you won’t go hiding again,” he said, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Because I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

You laughed lightly, a sound that felt foreign but welcomed. “Deal. I’ll try to stay where you can find me.”

“Good,” he replied, a satisfied grin spreading across his face. “Now, let’s get back to our girl before she thinks we’ve run off to join the circus.”

You chuckled at the thought, the tension that had hung over you both starting to fade. “I think she’d prefer a home-cooked meal over a circus,” you said, feeling lighter as you linked your arm with his.

“Home-cooked meals it is, then,” Joel agreed, guiding you back through the trees, the path familiar beneath your feet. “And maybe some ice cream for dessert. I think we’ve earned it.”

As you walked, hand in hand, you felt a warmth blooming in your chest, a sense of hope that had been absent for far too long. The forest around you seemed to come alive, birds chirping and leaves rustling in the gentle breeze, echoing the newfound peace settling within you.

You reached the edge of the woods, the lights of Jackson glowing softly in the distance, and as you stepped back into that familiar world, you knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, you would face them together.

With a smile, you glanced up at Joel, and in that moment, you realized that home wasn’t just a place—it was wherever the two of you were together. “Let’s go home,” you said, feeling the weight of the world lift off your shoulders.

“Yeah,” Joel replied, his expression softening as he looked at you. “Home.”

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writefightandflightclub · 9 months ago

Text

Ride or Die (Santiago “Pope” Garcia x fem!reader): Chapter Nine (of 11 - COMPLETED SERIES)

Series summary: Together, you and Santiago have been “soldiers” then “friends” then “lovers”; but will you ever figure out what comes next, especially when Santiago can’t (or won’t) stop running?

Genre: a LOT of angst, (some) smut, best friends to… lovers?

Warnings: see collated series warnings, here. Please note this series is 18+. Minors or ageless blogs interacting will be blocked.

Series info: this is a COMPLETED SERIES. All chapters are written and queued. Posting schedule is here (includes series master list).

Author’s note: Shorter chapter this week (be warned, next week's will be the heftiest yet), but I hope you like this next instalment! It's really gearing us up for the FINAL TWO! As always, I would be super grateful for any comments / reblogs / asks you may wish to send my way. If you've read this far, THANK YOU! ILY :-*

Word count: 3.8k for this part.

Tag list info: will reblog separately tagging those on taglist. You can request to be added to taglist if you are 18+. Send me an ask, please, so I can keep track :)

Today is a new day. It’s a new day and you’re done crying. You’re done holding on to anger and resentments.

Besides, you feel as though you gave Santiago everything you had last night, and - at least for now - there is nothing else left to give.

So, instead of wallowing, you plod downstairs to where Frankie is stationed in the kitchen, offering up your favourite pastries, coffee, and even pulpy, freshly squeezed orange juice. You pull up to the breakfast bar, hopping up on a stool to survey your extravagant pity platter.

It’s true then. “He’s gone.”

Frankie nods solemnly, leaning into the other side of the island like he’s a sympathetic bartender in some old Western flick. He claps his palm to your shoulder in a supportive gesture. “I’m sorry, chiquita.”

You shrug.

His face twists. That’s not all there is. “Don’t shoot the messenger, but…”

“What, Frankie?”

“He had to bounce but he didn’t want to wake you. Said you looked far too peaceful sleeping for him to come along and fuck that up.”

Your brow notches, absorbing all of that with a contrived neutrality. “How did he… seem?”

Frankie’s eyebrows raise lightly as he ponders, thinking back over prior events. “Calm, actually. Happy, even.”

“Hmm.” You smile softly to yourself. Makes a change from lately to hear that. You get it though. After last night, you can’t feel anything else either. Even if he technically didn’t say goodbye in words, you get it. You aren’t mad. Chances are one or both of you would have fucked it up this morning. This way at least, it leaves the night you spent together untarnished. Makes it feel like holding on to a good dream, before the realities of the day can set in and make things fraught.

Frankie’s face crumples with concern as you gaze wistfully into the middle-distance. “You gonna be alright?”

You pump your eyebrows. Search yourself for feelings. “You know what? Yeah. I am. I’m okay.”

Frankie’s eyes glint playfully then. “Oh. So you won’t need alllll o’ these yummy pastries?”

You laugh as he eyes the pain au chocolat pointedly. “Get stuck in, Morales,” you invite fondly, and he obliges, scraping up a stool and wiggling on his ass until he’s comfy.

“Hey. So,” he says through mouthfuls. “Did you two figure anything out?”

You groan at the sheer complexity of Frankie’s simple question. Did you? Or are you still going around in circles? “We know we love each other. The rest? Uh. I still don’t know.”

“He’ll get there.”

You puff air out from between your teeth.

“You don’t think so?” Frankie interprets.

You wrap your arms around your middle. “It’s not that. It’s… I don’t think it was all on him.” You don’t have any blame or accusations left. No grudges to hold on to - your hands are open. You’ve both made mistakes. Manufactured this distance, in your own ways - sometimes literally, sometimes not. You were both just trying to figure all this out as best as you could.

Frankie’s brows notch and rise with a silent question. How so? What do you mean?

The thoughts form as you speak them. Clumsy yet intrepid. “I guess... It just feels like we were… Both waiting for the other person to get somewhere, you know? But this whole time, we should’ve been heading there together. Otherwise, how the fuck were we supposed to know where to end up?” You slide a palm over your face. “Christ. Does that make any fucking sense?”

Frankie ponders. “I think so. Like trying to meet on the highway without a time or a place or directions?”

You reach out and clasp his hand. “You get me, buddy.”

Frankie blinks, tangling himself up further in your metaphor, but valiantly trying to muddle through. “And so… do you…?” He scratches his chaotic mop of hair. “Do you have a map now? A meeting point? I mean… What happens next? On the highway?” Your mouth lilts into a gentle smile at Frankie’s earnest question. He notes and feeds your amusement, going off the deep-end with this metaphor now. “Are you driving in shifts, chiquita? Grabbing cheez-its for the road?”

You laugh, the musical sound mingling with Frankie’s throaty chuckle. “What happens next?” You repeat the question out loud, carefully, posing it to yourself. Hasn’t that always been the question? However, the very sentiment which used to scare you now feels a lot more like potential. Like possibility.

Still, you feel -for the moment- like leaving that question hanging. You leave a pregnant pause. You let it breathe.

For now; you let it go. You let him go.

“Where are the other guys at, anyway?”

Frankie rides your tangent with ease. “Packing shit up.”

“We should help them.”

“Yeah, we should,” Frankie grins mischievously, and yet neither of you make any effort whatsoever to mobilise.

Instead, Frankie pours you a cup of coffee from the pot.

“You wanna call off the hike today?” he asks hopefully, Frankie increasingly a creature of comfort.

“No. Hell no. I need to move.” You lock your fingers and stretch your arms above your head, a satisfying stretch extending down your spine.

Frankie’s eyes sparkle across at you. “Just not in aid of helping the Millers pack their trunk, huh?”

“Exactly! What did I tell you, bud. You get me.”

You do though. You need to move. You need to move forward. No more standing in place. No more moving in circles, always repeating.

Still, when you think about it. When you think to what is ahead, to what is next, your stomach drops. You feel overcome by a sudden anxiety which you can’t place at first. Like having misplaced something dear to you. Like having done something wrong but not being able to recall exactly what. Then, all of a sudden, you understand it entirely.

“Listen. Tell me about this job, Frankie.”

He immediately tenses up. “What job?”

You take a bite of your pastry. “The one with Lorea’s cash house.”

Frankie simply groans. He always knows more than he lets on, this one. About everything. Everyone.

“Is it true? That you and the boys are in?”

You can plainly see his reticence to respond. But you know for a fact that he’s about to cave.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

“They need a pilot,” Frankie states, looking up at you with guilty, puppy dog eyes.

“Fuck me. He dragged you back in too, huh? You know… Sometimes I wonder if any of us are good for each other.” Your tone grows mildly irate, your heart quickening, but you recognise it for what it is. It’s simply anger veiling worry. You love these boys.

“Come on, don’t say that,” Frankie bargains. “We’ve dragged each other out of hell.”

“And back again.”

Frankie takes a deep breath. His tongue pokes around the meat of his cheek. “He says it’s simple recon. In and out. No mess.”

You jut your chin up. Stare at him levelly, unblinking. You know that Frankie will give it to you straight. Know that he can’t help himself. “And you buy that?”

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

“Not for a fucking second.”

You scoff, shaking your head. Not when it comes from Santiago, no. After all, you’ve fallen for Santiago’s bullshit plenty of times yourself. It’s the fact that Frankie would wander in with his eyes wide open to it that really gets you. It’s something else.

Still, before you can chastise him for being so stupid, Frankie glumly offers up some explanation. “Look. I need the job. I… I got my license revoked.”

Your heart drops - and your face with it. Your hands clamp over your mouth. “Frankie,” you say softly, with empathy. “Fuck.”

He hunches in on himself despondently, his hands disappearing up his sleeves, his fists clenching and his gaze cast downward. “I fucked up, man. Cassie has a baby on the way and I fucked up.” His eyes swim with a deep shame.

“Coke?” you venture, tentatively.

5, 4, 3, 2, 1.

Slowly, he nods.

“Frankie.” Your hand swipes over your face, and your eyes fill with concern for him. His palm waves in the air, however, quickly dismissing any sympathies you may care to bestow.

“I’m back on track. Getting there. I am.” His eyes are nothing but determined. Sincere. “But I need this gig. No matter how fucking hare-brained a scheme that pendejo is cooking.”

“Think of the baby, dude.”

“That’s exactly what I’m doing,” Frankie says forcefully, in a harsh tone he rarely uses, and you know in no uncertain terms that the conversation is done. That he’s made his mind up, and that he won’t hear you out any further on the matter.

You swallow. Regroup. You chew on some platitudes, but none of them feel quite right.

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Frankie says after a stretched, tense moment. “I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay,” you jostle his shoulder, and it shakes a little of the tension from him and the room. “I get it. And shit. I’m sorry for putting all of my bullshit on you this weekend. I wish you’d said something, Cat.”

He shrugs. Speaks with finality. “There’s not much to say. It’s done. I just need to make it right. And I will.”

“I believe it. But you do know that I’m… If you need… Anything, Frankie.”

He looks up at you then, the warmth back in his eyes as your voice cracks, searching for the words. But, he already knows everything you could ever say. You’ve said it before, a hundred times. He knows you love him. Knows you’re proud of him. Knows you’d do anything for him. Knows you want the best for him. He knows it already.

In turn, you are sure that he already knows everything you could possibly call him out on. That he’s already thought about it. Weighed it up. Thought about the risks. About the possibility that he’s acting out of desperation. The possibility that he’d probably be better off staying the hell away from Pope’s schemes.

He scrapes his stool back and comes to you, bundling you into a tight, warm, big brother hug. You tug in a deep breath, and you let it go. You’re done trying to control everything around you. It never really got you anywhere.

Still, there’s an undeniably uncomfortable knot in your chest as you think about them all gearing up. Strapping on their tac vests. Shoving clotting pads into their med packs. It makes you feel physically ill. And so, you can’t help yourself. “Do me a favour, Frankie? Don’t take Tom?” You muffle the words into his shirt, half hoping they will get lost there. That maybe he didn’t even hear you. But, you know when he braces his hands on your shoulders to get a good look at you, that your game is up.

“Why not?”

You see it then, in his eyes. That Tom is not a risk Frankie has considered. His presence not something he has weighed up.

You deliver your words as plainly and transparently as possible. “He’s too hungry, Cat.”

Frankie simply locks eyes with you, as though trying to weed out your motives. Shrewdly trying to assess your conclusions. Is this just your petty vendetta talking? Is this intelligence? Is this coming from your gut?

“Please. Just trust me.”

“I do,” he nods eventually, but you should know better than to feel any relief. And next, there it is. “I do but it’s not my call.”

Well. You’ve said your piece. You guess that’s all you’ve got. Absent-mindedly, you tug on Frankie’s lapels. “You’d better come back to me, Cat,” you plead plaintively. “And by God, you’d better bring those other fuckers back with you to boot.”

With a wistful affection, Frankie tugs you to him again and you stand there in silence for a few more moments, the sounds of the other guys evident in the background. In time, you and Frankie release each other and gravitate towards them, tucking yourselves under the porch to survey their efforts packing up the trucks.

“We should probably help,” you repeat again, and, to your side, your hear Frankie’s murmur of agreement. However, when you glance to him you see his long, lean frame stretched out up against the wooden porch post. He looks like a man with nowhere else to be in a hurry.

“Fuck,” he curses at nothing in particular, surveying the animated bodies of his buddies before him with both awe and trepidation. “How did we get here? Years of service and none of us have anything to show for it.”

That’s a Santiago sales pitch, through and through, you reckon. You recognise his propaganda. Funny, since he used to swallow the flag for breakfast. Is that how he got to him then? Convinced Frankie he could finally make bank? Take what he deserved? Ah. Or give his family what they deserved? Frankie is all about family.

A sad smile twitches your mouth. “Well. That’s not entirely true, is it? Not nothing.” You think of what you’ve gained from all of this. “I got a gaggle of weird ass brothers. A suitcase full of trauma. A fucked back. And! An array of unhealthy coping mechanisms.”

Despite the darkness of your statement, Frankie’s eyes crinkle. What else is left to do but laugh, anyway? “Maybe Will should put that in his speech.”

You belly chuckle at that, moving to lean up against the opposite post. “Yeah. Scare those poor recruits off before they can end up like us, huh?”

Frankie looks wistful again. “It hasn’t been all bad.”

No. It hasn’t. He’s not wrong about that.

You ponder on it. If you could go back and change your path - would you? But, despite everything, your squad would be far too much to lose. “Sure. The weird thing is, as shitty as it’s been at times? I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

There is a beat, and Frankie reaches out across the space between you and wordlessly clasps your hand.

“Listen. You gonna be okay, Frankie?” He looks down at his worn sneakers, contemplatively, as though he really doesn’t know the answer yet. You give his hand a squeeze, trying to let him know that’s okay. “We’ll talk more, okay?”

He nods - a subtle, concessionary thing, like maybe he could really do with that.

“I get why you didn’t tell me. But I’m sorry. That I didn’t do a better job of asking.”

“It’s not on you,” he says generously. A little too generously, in your estimation. You’ve been rather wrapped up in your own shit. A little too self-involved. “I know I can talk to you. I just… I, uh. Didn’t want to ruin the weekend.” The irony of that statement causes a throaty chuckle to bounce in Frankie’s neck, and your palm slides over your face in regret even as you laugh in reciprocity.

“Christ. I did a great job of that all by myself.”

“Well,” Frankie says good-naturedly, shifting to bump your hip with his. Wrapping his crooked arm over your shoulder. “You had some help.”

It is your turn now to look wistful, as you contemplate the storm that is Santiago, and all the rubble he left behind. “He’s really gone again.” Frankie simply squeezes you a little tighter. “Hey. Anything else I should know, by the way?” you needle. “You’re not holding out on me?”

Frankie sucks air through his teeth. “Tom and Molly. She finally served him papers.”

You fold forward, hinging to collapse your upper half onto the porch rail. “Fuck. Shit. I really need to start being nicer to that shithead.” Still, from behind, Frankie’s familiar chuckle buoys you, even as you inwardly berate yourself for getting wrapped up in your own business. “We’re all messes, huh, Frankie? Do you think we can fix it?”

“Yeah. Yeah. I do.”

“Truly?”

“Truly.”

You toss him a soft, grateful smile, which extends as Will makes his way over to your position, greeting you “Hey, slackers!”. You and Frankie share a conspiratorial glance.

“All set for the hike, Captain?”

“No thanks to you.”

“I had an alternate mission. Ranks of pastries to deplete.”

Will feigns tiredness, but his baby blues sparkle even as he rolls them.

“Anyway. Didn’t need you. All set to head out as soon as you slackers get your act together. You wantin’ to do the usual route, hon?”

You brace your arms against the porch rail. Dig your fingers into the wood. “No,” you say, the words a little tight in your chest, but they feel good. “Not today. There’s somewhere else. Somewhere I always wanted to go.”

Somewhere new.

“Fine by me,” Frankie offers. “Just let me grab more pastries.”

***

You relish the hike, when it comes. You relish walking a path that is -to you- entirely untrodden. That he can’t touch. You walked the old, familiar trails for too long, and the only place it ever got you was right back where you started.

The bullshit ends here. You’ve decided.

And so, you turn your attention away from your sun, and to the wider constellation of stars around you. To yourself.

You even do your best to make peace with Tom. To put old grudges to bed.

You relish the hike. Enjoy the undulating landscape. You don’t know for sure what’s next, or where you’re going, but the difference is that for once, that feels okay. Full of potential.

You walk until your legs burn, and when you get to the summit you take a moment to drink in the crisp, clifftop air. To look out across the ocean. To see it from a distance and to know that this time, it cannot break you over and over and over.

Still, when you’re at the top, as if by providence, Santiago texts you.

“Hey. Sorry I had to take off early. I wanna say… Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For the best night of my life.”

“Ah. Fuck it,” you whisper to yourself, and you press the button to call him. You immediately call him. He immediately picks up. “Hi.”

”Hi. What’s up? They just announced my gate.”

”That’s okay, I’ll be quick. I, uh. I just needed to tell you too. Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For a proper goodbye.”

“Look, I’m sorry that I-”

“-I’m not mad, Santi. I think… I think we said everything we have to say, right? I think it was…”

”…Perfect?”

”Yeah. Yeah, pretty perfect.”

“Listen. It’s selfish, but. With everything coming up. The Lorea job and… I needed it, you know? Needed that image of you sleeping.”

There’s an ache in your chest and it’s bittersweet.

He cares for you in every way he knows how, doesn’t he? In every way he can. He’s not perfect, but hey, neither are you. You’re both a little bit broken, but that doesn’t mean you can’t heal. And most of all, it doesn’t mean you don’t deserve love while you’re doing it.

One day, he’ll turn up at your door, and he’ll be welcome. Whenever that is. Whenever it happens. But until then, you can’t just wait for him.

Until then, you’ll love him; from a distance.

No longer can you leave him in anger. No longer can he break you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Maybe one day, that will even be enough.

“Would you promise me something?”

“Sure.”

“Come back and visit soon, huh?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I promise.”

You conclude the call, and you stretch your arms above your head. A pleasant tingle snakes down your back as it cracks. You haven’t felt so relaxed in a long time. You don’t think you’ve ever felt such peace.

The path that you are walking is yours, and you implicitly trust where it’s taking you.

***

You are grateful to slip into the passenger side of Frankie’s car, beginning the drive back to the city and signalling the end of your stay at the beach house. Still, there is something bittersweet there too as you leave behind the site of so many memories from over the years - and now, the site of your most perfect night with Santiago.

It reminds you of all you’ve been through. The ups and the downs and plenty of things which went sideways. You are starting to realise though, that perhaps the landscape of love is undulating. That sometimes the terrain is tough. It shouldn’t have been quite so tough though - so steep and unforgiving; and so, you hope for gentler, easier paths ahead.

It is bittersweet then, as you leave this place behind.

As you look forward, having said goodbye. As you wrestle with your past, future, and present.

Frankie swings the car out and onto the highway, the Millers up ahead and Tom behind, your vehicles forming a convoy through the dark, the glow of headlights illuminating the route ahead.

You sit in silence, eyes and thoughts unfocussed, in abstraction, as you watch vague shapes and colours slipping by the window, your own face occasionally reflected right back at you. You look older than you used to. More tired. But you don’t dislike that.

After a while, Frankie’s robust voice slices through the dark, his eyes on the road and hands threading the wheel. “I don’t know if this will make things better or worse but… Do you want to hear it?”

You swivel your head towards him, fractured, liquid panels of light slipping over the planes of his face as your surroundings pass by in a haze. “Hear what?”

“Pope’s heartbreak playlist?”

Your hands dig into your thighs where they rest. “Do I?”

“Well?” Frankie asks, his finger poised over the button, and evidently not willing to make that decision for you.

“Yeah. Fuck it.”

You brace a little, in all honesty. A tightness takes hold of your chest as you wonder if the first track to befall your ears might be angry. Resentful. Full of blame or sadness that you can’t hope to wrestle with and come out on top. But, as the first notes of the track sound out, you are surprised to find a full, unfettered laugh rises from out of your throat. The tears swell in your eyes next, for it is nothing if not bittersweet.

“That dickhead. I can’t believe…”

You can’t believe it. The fact he has chosen a song which reflects your life together? Which reveals a happy memory?

He loves you, doesn’t he? He has for a long time. And you can’t help but hope that maybe one day, that will even be enough. For tonight though, it will definitely do. You’ll take it. You’ll treasure it.

“Whiskey in the Jar,” Frankie scoffs as he catches on to the song, even if his fingers are drumming against the lip of the wheel involuntarily. “I mean. What the shit’s that all about? He’s a weird kid, I swear.”

“Frankie,” you laugh brightly, turning once again to look wistfully out of the window, as the view of the beach house and the ocean recedes into the distance. You catch another glimpse of yourself in the pane, and this time you look younger, you think. More alive. “Did I ever tell you about that night in Philadelphia?”

#santiago pope garcia x reader #triple frontier #oscar isaac #ride or die series

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uzurimisery · 1 year ago

Text

chapter 5: the call. / coriolanus snow / nsfw

Rating: Explicit

WC: 6746

Warnings: MDNI, he's still insane and possessive, he's not a good guy but he's hot, vomit mention, not beta read

AO3 version | Series master

Friday evening had finally come, the pit in his stomach made Coriolanus anxious. Somehow, despite the years he’d known your mother, and the year he’d spent “dating” you, he had never met your father. The man had taken your mother’s last name when they married, something that rarely happened before, maybe only twice. A myriad of questions swam in his head, threatening to drown him. Ancient myths of sirens singing his doom. Would he be just as insane and twisted as your mother? He couldn’t be, he was far too public-facing. Would he be more like you then? A playful actor with a cold nature? You had to get that from someone and it was not your mother. The traits you shared with her were cruel.

Sometimes his mind was his worst enemy. He conjured up scenarios that ranged from disastrous, to pleasant, to ones that ended Panem as he knew it. He couldn’t shake the feeling like he was walking into the lion’s den.

“Will you quit picking at that seam?” Tigris slapped his hand away from his suit pocket. “I spent too much time making that for you to ruin it.” It was a miracle she had agreed to come to dinner tonight.

That last time they spoke had ended badly, the confrontation lingering. Despite their difference, Tigris did care for her cousin.

“Relax, it won’t come undone from that.”

Grandma’am chided, “Now you two play nice. I am far too excited to talk with Mr Gaul about updating the apartment to let you both ruin it.” She was oblivious to the underlying tension and chirped excitedly about getting a look inside your family estate.

“Sorry Grandma’am,” Tigris always backed off when she got in trouble. “It won’t happen again.”

When the car pulled up to the gates, a private force of peacekeepers let them through, opening the gate after confirming their identities. He had known that your mother kept security with her, but not to this extent. The drive up to the front of the house was long, longer than it should be. The winding driveway, flanked with trees, led them to the crest of the hill and when the canopy lifted, Coriolanus could see your house.

Bathed in the warm orange of the setting sun stood the grand chateau-style mansion. Its two-story structure adorned with intricate architectural details and expansive windows lit from the inside. The mansion’s commanding presence, nestled amidst the green rolling gardens, was a symbol of just how important the Gauls were.

Tonight was going to be a formidable challenge, his nerves building as they got out of the car and escorted through the front door by an Avox. The foyer featured a grand staircase at the back, sleek black railings with intricate breaks in the straight metal showcasing various scientific objects, custom-made to reflect the occupants of the house. The floors were white marble, polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the twin crystal chandeliers that illuminated the space. If the Snow apartment was extravagant, this was utter decadence, opulence in inches of the estate.

Underneath the foremost chandelier stood your family, your parents flanked you on either side.

Mr Gaul was a tall man, taller than Coriolanus. His hair was neatly cropped and styled, the sides tapering into his beard, which was short and neatly trimmed. The combination framed his face, etched with lines of experience and an air of stern authority. Everyone in the Capitol knew him to be a fashionable man, and tonight was no exception. His suit was velvet and impeccably tailored, a testament to his discerning taste and attention to detail, only adding to his imposing physique. He had on a house coat as well. It was in a matching velvet and embroidered everywhere apart from the trim, with fine beads swirling and encircling each other. He had a way of making people look at him. It must be where you got it from. Your mother was speaking to the both of you as he watched on.

Dr. Gaul was not wearing a lab coat-esque top for once and instead was in a black pantsuit. The trousers hung straight on her, a crisp pleat going down the centre, stopping just past the heels. Her blazer had a white inside that carried out onto the lapels, and under it was a simple black blouse. She had told him once that fashion was something she didn’t care about.

You were the first to notice the Snow family approaching. It seemed like black was your family’s colour tonight. Your gown was longer, trailing behind you as you walked, turtleneck and long-sleeved. It was simple. Nothing very interesting about it other than the way it clung to your curves. You pulled your hair back and up, a few curls loose to frame your face. You were stunning.

“Welcome Snow family,” Dr. Gaul spoke first. “Thank you for joining us tonight.” She extended her hand for Grandma’am to shake.

Grandma’am shook it and offered her own greetings. “Thank you for your invitation. I thought it a wonderful idea to get us together before the engagement party.”

“Of course. Mr. Gaul was insistent on it.” Did he have a protective streak?

Your father finally spoke, his voice bassy and resonant. “I would like to know the man my daughter is marrying before walking her down the aisle.” He was friendly, all smiles, as he grabbed Grandma’am’s hand and kissed the back of it. “You must be Mrs. Snow. Lovely meeting you.”

He moved on to Tigris, offering similar treatment, before coming to Coriolanus. Mr Gaul stared him up and down, picking apart his appearance. Coriolanus felt like a shadow was being cast over him, the man looking down at him as if he was appraising a purchase. His gaze was unwavering, judgement and assessment being made every second Mr Gaul looked at Coriolanus. He could feel the pressure mounting, settling on top of him heavy and grinding, expectations being placed on him.

“So this is the man that has the Capitol in such a stir, proposing to my daughter without a ring on national TV.”

Coriolanus stood tall, composed despite Mr Gaul’s intensity. “Yes, sir.”

The older man cracked a smile, bright and blinding, as he reached out to grab Coriolanus’ hand. Mr. Gaul’s hands were soft, but Coriolanus could still feel the remnants of calluses. “I like your gumption, son.” Relief washed over Coriolanus.

“I couldn’t risk the chance of ever losing her,” Coriolanus smiled, hoping it was charming.

“Are you two done, then?” Your question was jovial, playful and light, as you came to the pair. Mr. Gaul pulled you in for a hug and kissed the top of your head. He watched Coriolanus as he did, the smile he previously had gone and his eye holding a warning. Perhaps Mr. Gaul was the judge and jury, and Dr. Gaul was the executioner when matters came to you.

“We’re done.” Mr. Gaul’s previous expression was back on his face as you pulled away from the hug. “The chef is just finishing up the first course. While he does, I wanted to give you all a tour of Gaul Manor.”

“A tour would be wonderful. Thank you, Mr. Gaul.” Tigris was the first to accept the offer, wanting to get away from whatever had just happened between your father and her cousin. She was followed by Grandma’am voicing excited agreement.

“I’d like to show Coriolanus the gardens before the sunsets entirely. Would that be alright Father?”

Mr. Gaul didn’t seem like he wanted that to happen at all, lips tightening into a fine line, but the man was weak to you. He always had been. “Of course, baby girl.” Surrender.

You walked Coriolanus to the gardens, pointing out the different rooms as you went. The click of your heels echoed down the corridors. He could see the back patio lead out to the rear gardens down a set of stairs. The train of your dress was going to get dirty if you walked around like that. He grabbed it, lifting it off the ground for you. Why did he do that? He didn’t care if the dress ruined, clothes were just clothes. Did he care if it had been ruined and it upset you? His emotions had been haywire since he woke up.

The twilight embrace of the gardens was nice, the air filled with the scent of blooming flowers and the gentle hum of insects. Suddenly you laughed, holding your stomach and grabbing Coriolanus’ arm as you walked through the garden.

“You looked terrified.”

Indignation ate at him. “I did not.”

“You did. I swear I could see you trembling, shaking in your shoes as he stared at you.” You straightened up, facing him. “He’s always wanted to do that to someone. He thinks it’s one dad thing he’s never had the chance to do.”

“Wonderful” Coriolanus was sardonic in his reply.

“Oh, lighten up. Let him have his fun. If this alliance is serious, this will be the only time he’ll see me get married.”

Did you not believe Coriolanus was serious about this? He had told you, in not so many words, that he wanted this. He didn’t make friends, let alone allies, but you were both things. Was your worry about him falling in love with someone and screwing you over serious? How could you doubt him? He had given you no reason to.

“It is serious. Did you think I’d say that in jest?”

You shrugged. “Perhaps. You’ve been all over the place for the past couple of months. One minute we’re friends and the next you’re telling me off for standing too close to Dennis Fling, of all people.”

“I’ve had a lot on my mind.” Coriolanus knew that the answer was lacklustre. It didn’t account for his actions, nor explain them. The past few months there had been a lot on his mind, grappling with his growing feelings for you and going between acting on them or closing them off completely. He’d get close to the latter, and then he’d see you again and his resolve lost. The want he had for you vexed him, and he’s felt sick to his stomach since realising he loved you.

“You can talk to me about it.” Your shoulder bumped into his as you spoke. “We are friends, and allies now, too.”

“Another time perhaps.”

“Sure.”

The rest of the stroll through the greenery was quiet. Coriolanus lost himself in his own head again. Should he give up his previous plan and tell you how he feels now? It was there, threatening to jump out of his mouth. But doing that was risky. You could still walk away from him. He should just wait until you had been married or a few before telling you that being married made him fall in love with you, not that his desire to possess you led to him genuinely coming to care for you in the past year. Sick and twisted bastard he was.

He was in too deep, the surface feet above him and he could not reach it.

“We should go back inside with the others. I imagine dinner’s ready by now.”

“Sounds good.”

Coriolanus held onto the train of your dress until you were back inside, letting it fall and fan around you. He hadn’t realised the chill that had seeped into his bones from being out there. It wasn’t cold today. Maybe he was just sensitive. He made sure to escort you properly, fearful your father would pop out of a corner, glaring at him for not treating you properly. Dr. Gaul had cameras everywhere, so who’s saying there weren’t any in the house?

When the two of you reached the dining room, the rest of the party was seated. This was the smaller of the dining rooms, the other being reserved for large parties. Mr Gaul had designed the one to offer a more intimate space, better for conversing as a whole. It was just as ornate as the rest of the house, the ceiling an ornamental relief. Each of the Gauls sat at opposite ends of the table, Tigris and Grandma’am on the left and right of Dr. Gaul respectfully, leaving the only seat free near your father.

Coriolanus pulled your chair on for you before sitting on his own on your father’s right. Two waiters came out, putting down plates in front of everyone and filling their wine glasses with crisp white. The first course was some sort of salad, colourful on his plate, a champagne vinaigrette tossed over it.

“What did you think of the gardens, Mr. Snow?” Dr. Gaul asked him as she took a sip, an eyebrow raised.

“They were wonderful.” His words were polite, nothing too overplayed.

“Indeed.” Was he supposed to say more?

Before he could, Mr. Gaul injected. “I spent a long time designing them and then pruning them. When the plants finally matured, I hired a gardener for it, hoping that they’d be taken care of. But much to my chagrin, they weren’t. So I fired that gardener.”

Your mother hummed. “Finding a new one was a simple task, wasn’t it, husband?”

“Very. You’d be surprised at the number of competent men who lined up for the job.”

“You had a replacement picked out that same day if I recall correctly, no?”

“Indeed, I did.” Mr Gaul wiped at his mouth with the napkin on his lap. “Luckily, that new gardener was good at his job.” The threat was hardly hidden in the story. Coriolanus was replaceable to the Gauls. If he acted out of line with you, they would cut him down. He felt your foot rub his ankle, a show of comfort.

“You’ve always been too attached to those gardens father,” You were aware of what your parents were telling this story for. “Someone might think that it was your child and not me.”

Mr. Gaul backed off. “Well, they would only be partially blind to confuse the two of you. You’re as pretty as a rose.”

“Grandma’am are you still keeping up your rose garden on the roof?” Coriolanus could kiss you right now, as you steered the conversation away from him.

The chatter was light as everyone ate, courses coming and going. Mr Gaul was a jokester, cracking them to make yourself, Tigris, Grandma’am and even Dr. Gaul laughed, but it never reached her eyes. They were always on him, studying what he said and did. How he looked at you.

It was odd, striking in a sense, so different from the initial stiffness of your interactions and formality that had previously been established. It was homey, a warm blanket on a cold day. You had grown up like this, a sprout the Gauls had watered and tended to until you bloomed one day just as you were now.

Would you want a house like this? To have family dinners and tell stories of the days you had? Coriolanus didn’t think he could offer that. He didn’t know how to be a good partner, only play at one. His parents’ marriage was one based on fear and obsession, just like his own feelings for you. To him, that’s what love, partnership, was. A foundation of need. Even now he still wanted to hide you away, to run from the situation. Your parents’ overarching care for you is tenuous to navigate. It’d be a tough role, he’d stumble over his lines, his delivery shaky, but he could try if it made you happy. If it made you stay. If it made you love him.

___________________________

“We’ve received an increase in our budget.” Dr. Gaul stood at the front window of her office. It was two stories above the main lab and looked out over it all.

From here she saw all. Right now she was watching you, her only child, as you led a training session. Your lab coat was an altered one. She had permitted you to wear black over the usual white. It was an older style, pre-war, from a country that was no doubt dead. You had read about them in an old book, Cheongsam, and you told her that when you grew up, you wanted a lab coat just like her but one that looked like that. Her favouritism for you was a quiet thing, often unnoticed, but she gave you that.

She had summoned Coriolanus to her office with little warning. He had been mid-experiment when his communicuff buzzed with two words. “Office. Now.”

He was unsure what she needed to tell him that urgently. When the family dinner ended well, he assumed he was off the hook. Mr. Gaul agreed to push the engagement party to the end of the month, instead of when it was supposed to be today, citing that he wanted to make the event more grand. Coriolanus was grateful for that.

“That’s great news. It allows us to move forward with expanding the arena”

“Yes, it does.” Dr. Gaul’s tone was flat, devoid of her usual sing-song, her hands clasped behind her back as she stared down below. It was always so quiet in her office. There was no ambient noise to soothe the mind, only silence unless you spoke, and she was quiet.

“Do you need me for anything else Dr. Gaul?”

“Tell me, what do you think of her?” His blood turned to ice.

“Of who?”

“Don’t play stupid,” she sighed, low and heavy. “Of my daughter, my Y/N.”

His panic built, rising in his throat, the taste of bile settling on the back of his tongue. His heart pounded, a relentless drumbeat surging against his ribs. It was so loud he swore she could hear it. Sweat built at his forehead, his palms clammy. This was a test. She had seen something at the dinner that set her off, a bloodhound on a trail.

“I…” his voice caught in his throat, words refusing to form. “I think she’s extraordinary.”

The words felt inadequate, but too much at the same time. Did she want to hear about how skilled you were? Should he lament on your strongest attributes and how he admired them? Or should he confess to his greatest sin, his need to have you?

“Yes, she is.” The short answer she gave only tormented Coriolanus, unable to determine what course to take. “Did you know she almost killed me?”

He stammered. “I’m sorry?”

“When she was born, she almost killed me. I carried her for 40 weeks, gave up opportunities for her, and then when she came into this world, kicking and screaming, I nearly bled out,” she spoke without turning to face him.

“I-”

“I didn’t like her at the start. She was small and fragile and cried so much. I could never get her to latch properly, making her colic. There were times when I wanted to end my suffering and kill her, but each time her father would be there and she’d calm down again. She’d smile. And then one day, three weeks after she was born, she latched on with no issues.” He was afraid to speak again.

“I started watching her after that, treating her like an experiment. To me, she was one. Was I capable of motherhood? Of loving a child? It’s a hypothesis that is still being tested to this day. Bur preliminary results show one thing.” her body turned and finally facing him. “I care for her. I have killed for that girl and I will do it again, regardless of the consequences.”

Dr. Gaul began walking towards him, her steps silent.

I raised her with everything that I had. I gave her every opportunity and helped guide her into the ambitious woman she is today. From the moment she suckled on my teat, I laid the world at her feet, feeding her independence.”

They were face to face now. Even though she was markedly shorter than him, she still looked down at him.

“Are you a threat to her independence, Mr. Snow?”

Coriolanus stood his ground, gaze unwavering under Dr. Gaul’s scrutiny. Her tone laced with pride for you and an accusation for him. She questioned if he was a threat to you. Was she threatening to kill him? Replace him like they had the gardener.

“I would never do anything to jeopardise her independence, Dr. Gaul.” his voice was quiet, barely above a whisper. Even now, after years of working together, she unnerved him. “I would never dream of doing anything to harm her.”

Your independence with him was still under question. If he could let you do as you please, just like you had been this whole time, was something he didn’t know the answer to. So far, your independence has been good for him. But would it always? People change over time and who was to say you wouldn’t change, no longer view him positively. If that happened, your independence would most likely be lost. He wouldn’t let you get away from him. Would he hurt you then? Nothing life-threatening.

“Her father likes you.” Her eyes narrowed, slits like a viper ready to strike. She tore apart his words as she looked over him, searching for any hint of deceit, but she found none. “Do you know how an actor dies?”

“No.”

“They start to believe the part they play is real, that the story is real, that their feelings are real. Do you believe that it’s real?” He wanted to vomit, expel the contents of his stomach and her feet. To gag and gag as they poured out. She was onto him. She knew everything.

“No, it’s not real.”

She had seen the lie there, that he thought it was real, and that his feelings for you were real, and she called him on it. “Don’t lie to me, Mr. Snow.”

“It’s real.” He was exposed. “It’s real to me.”

She turned again, walking back to the overlook. What ever anger she had for him now covered. He couldn’t tell what she wanted. Was this the right answer? Had he passed her test?

Her voice was flat when she spoke. “If you ever hurt her, I will destroy you. I will cut you from pelvis to neck, pull your innards out and suspend them. I will lock you in that state, pump you full of the bare minimum nutrients you need to live and force you to watch your loved ones die, and for her to live on happily. Do you understand?”

“I understand.”

“Good. Now get out of my sight.”

Coriolanus was out of the room before she could finish her sentence as Dr. Gaul’s words rang in his ears. She would always be watching him, making sure that you were safe. You would always be hers before you were his. She knew the truth now too, that his perverse need for you, debauched thoughts, had him in love with you. His tie felt like it was choking him, fingers pulling at the knot to free it. His pace rushed as he retreated into his private lab. This was bad. It was more than bad; it was deadly.

How did he play this out? Would Dr. Gaul demand you stop seeing him, ruin all his plans? She wasn’t someone who spoke in empty threats and Hypotheticals; she spoke only of factual reality. Even if it meant destroying her protégé, she would do it for you. This was a bed of his own making, tangled in the sheets called emotion and desire, that he had to lie in.

On the walk to his lab, he could feel Dr. Gaul watching from above. Or perhaps he was paranoid, imagining the feeling of a thousand eyes on him. Coriolanus’ mouth was dry, his hands trembling slightly. Weakness prevalent. Panic prevalent.

When the door closed, he nearly collapsed, stumbling across the room, knocking over a cup of pens as he reached his chair. The rows of instruments, intricate machinery with vials filled with different solutions, sat mocking him. They were tainted. Signifiers of his ambition now show just how much he still lacked.

If your mother knew, did you? Had you known his feelings this entire time and strung him along? If you had known of those, how much did you really know? Coriolanus had never considered what you might know about him and what he’s done. What if Dr. Gaul had told you of his sins, how he turned on Sejanus and reaped the benefits? The possibility of you knowing the truth, his biggest flaws, wasn’t something he could let happen. You’d turn on him in judgment, your affection lost.

A knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts, the mask slipping on again.

“Come in.” He needed to drink something. Speaking felt like sandpaper on his vocal cords.

The door opened as you slipped in, closing it behind you. “You alright? You looked like you were upset.”

You were the last person he wanted to see right now, unsure if he could hide what was going on.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just need to rerun a test.”

“Oh. That’s unlike you,” you spoke as you plopped down on his couch, clueless about his struggle. “Normally you’re so on top of things.”

You didn’t believe him. You were questioning him. Have you already spoken with your mother? Did she tell you everything? The temptation to confess, clear the air before it could change, pulled at him.

“What do you know?” His accusation was sharp.

Your presence, perceptive gaze that was always watching, unnerved him. “In general or?”

“What do you know about me? About my past?” Coriolanus knew he had to tread carefully, caution in every breath. He had to stay guarded and protect his ambition, but he desperately craved your understanding. The acceptance that what he had done was fine.

You were silent, unsure what to say, dropping your flashlight in the dark, reaching out to find it. “Well,” He could tell with just that you knew it all. “All of it, I suppose, other than what you were feeling.”

His voice wavered, a mixture of apprehension and curiosity. “How?”

“I was there when my mother got the jabberjay. She almost ignored it, but I pushed her on it.” You had always known what he had done the whole time. “I told her that the extremes she had always wanted me to go to and I was incapable of, you could do them. That you’d be what she wanted.”

You had been the catalyst, the one that saved him from having to live out 20 years of service in District 2. At any point, you could have told the Plinths what he had done, but you didn’t. You had met them many times and never said anything. In fact, you offered condolences for their loss when you had first met them. Said that Sejanus had always been a positive light at the Academy.

“What about the games?”

“Just that you cheated, gave her rat poison and made the snakes desensitised to Lucy Gray’s smell.”

You sat there, casual and relaxed in his lab, acceptance clear. There was no question of morality from you, how he could do that to Senjaus, how he could cheat at the games. You understood that the ends justify the means. This was just another ordinary Tuesday for you.

“I did have one question for you about her actually,” Coriolanus tensed. “Did you love her?”

“No.” Coriolanus hadn’t loved Lucy Gray. He loved controlling her. He thought that being with her would be enough, but it wasn’t. She would always be District, low class and Covey, and he would always be a Snow. It was youthful naivety to think that being with her would ever amount to anything.

“Is she dead?”

“Yes, I killed her.”

“What changed? You looked close during the games.”

“She was a distraction, a liability, a threat to my success.” That’s all Lucy Gray had ever been to him. “So I killed her.”

“You were right to kill her, then. Sounds like she was a loose end and the last thing we need is loose ends.” You were so unbothered by his confession, like you had expected it ages ago. “We should be more truthful with each other if this alliance is going to last.”

“Then it’s your turn to share. You know my biggest secret.”

He felt calm now. The weight of your acceptance comforting him. Morality was inconsequential in the pursuit of greatness, and you knew that and you agreed with it. He had been vulnerable. You could have struck and crushed his heart by running, but you sat there taking it in.

“No more secrets?” you questioned, offering to establish equal ammunition on his side. A pact of mutually agreed destruction.

“No more secrets.”

“Do you remember Emon Quiver? You might have seen him on the Academy campus before. He was in my year.” You went on describing the boy, familiarity reminding him exactly who you were talking about.

“He’s the one who got sent to District 11, no?”

“That’s him. I lied about him ever touching me. Poor boys never touched a woman because of me.” Coriolanus watched you pick at the lint on your trousers. “The true story is that I was cheating off of him in history with Professor Demigloss. It was fine for a while. He let me do it with no problems until one day he wanted more from me, tried to say I owed him and if I didn’t sleep with him, he’d tell everyone that I was cheating.”

“What did you do?”

“What needed to be done. Told him to meet me in the library, made out with him a litter, put us in a position where he looked like he was in control and forced me. I waited for a few minutes, letting it happen. He didn’t know it, but they were doing an inspection of the Library that day, and all the staff was there. So they walk in and see Y/N Gaul underneath him. I started crying, begging him to stop, and said that I didn’t want this. Next thing you know, he’s off in 11 with no flesh on his fingers, if he even has fingers anymore.” You yawned as you finished the story.

Your moral compass was just as fucked as his own. The willingness to crush others beneath your heeled feet, like the bugs that they were, was so similar to his own. “What if they believed him?”

You laughed. “Why would they?” The point was fair, you were very convincing. “Anyway, that’s my big secret. I was thinking we should go out for lunch today. I’m tired of being in the lab.”

“I think that’d be fine. You can pick where we go.”

As you started going through the option that you and he could go to, Coriolanus was stuck in limbo. He had expected this conversation to go so much worse than it did. You hadn’t cared that he turned on Sejanus and Lucy Gray. In fact, you commended him for it. Told your mother that his willingness to destroy others, kill their physical form and the memory of them, was a good thing, something she needed. It sent a jolt through him, heady with lust, making him giddy. You were validating his true nature, content with the darkness, at home in it.

He felt a connection with you he had never felt before. You weren’t the sheltered playing card he had thought you to be, but a formidable force all in your own right. You understood the true nature of power and control, and the extremes one had to take to obtain it. You were cruel and vindictive, condemning a man to District 11 for threatening you.

It excited him. The prospect of navigating the Capitol’s political arena side by side, both of you playing the game well. There might be times when your interests clashed, but you were smart and willing to adapt.

All he could think about was biting into your cherry-red lips like the fruit they were. Their tempting fullness waiting for him. He used to be afraid you’d run if you knew his truth. Now that you knew it, he just wanted you more.

But could he bear telling you that?

Don't worry! The series isn't dead. Holidays have just had me busy

(edit: forgot to do the tag list originally, silly me)

@serrendiipty @namelesslosers @glitteryblizzardsalad @harrysbitvh123 @secretsicanthideanymore @ayyyeeeeidk @hinata7346 @kisstheskin @sumo-b98 @duds31

#tdoaa #the death of an actor #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games imagine #hunger games #coriolanus snow #uzuri writes #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #the hunger games #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #hunger games smut #thg fanfiction #coriolanus snow x reader smut

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zz0nie · 1 year ago

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Genshin Hcs, Women EDITION.

Furina, Navia & Clorinde.

notes; im not the most familiar with the girls, ESPECIALLY clorinde, imo she's just not have enough screentime to deduct enough things out of her. :( Sorry if shes ooc

Furina

You definitely need to have high patience for Furina, as her outgoing performances of being Fontaine's Archon, she must act the part! Holding your hand - basically dragging you - across Fontaine. "Oh this would look AMAZING on you, simply amazing!" She would announce to the world as she is holding a piece of extravagant clothing against you. Maybe it was on purpose to let people know you were close, as it comes with a little matching trinket she also coincidentally owns. She wouldn't admit it to your face though.

Like previously; she would LOVE to take you places, whether it be sweet treat testing, clothes shopping or just being in awe at the scenery around you, for Furina would frequently be looking back to make sure you are enjoying yourself. If you point it out to her, she will - much to her dismay - refuse to admit she was looking at you and would in fact try change the subject to a cat she saw walking on the roof of a building behind you.

Would 100% LOVE to be fed cakes she enjoys, something humane and sweet while you are sat in her room together, as a recorder you were suggesting for Furina to listen to for a while runs quietly in the background. As much as she loves to be fed, she would tell you to open up and go "Ahh" as she gently places a small piece of a cake in your mouth.

She will talk a bunch on the return after watching a "performance", If you just admire her she will either become more flustered or will feel more entitled to keep on talking, you wouldn't mind either way. While she talks she uses her hands to communicate with gestures, as you sit across from her, head resting in your palm as you listen. Maybe take note on any if they have any romantic drama, she might be hinting at you that she wants something.

Will force you to come to meetings with her, and if it is with someone who makes her anxious, expect her to hold your hand and play with your fingers cautiously.

Has 0 shame in PDA, however, would prefer to keep it to a minimal of hand holding or hugs in public, she prefers to verbally tell the world you are hers and she is yours.

Navia

Many many Baking dates! If you can't bake, that's okay! Stir something for her! Or help her by cleaning something up. Just you being there makes her so happy you want to enjoy something she does.

Definitely goes and buys matching pendants for you, if you aren't that sort of person she will find an object that you can both hold dear to you. Such as matching teacups! She is a very flexible person when it comes to gifts. She loves buying you whatever she can, however she does prefer to stick to sweet goods.

Dancing in her kitchen together, or if you're alone any make-shift kitchen she creates in the moment. While waiting for the macarons to bake, you gently place your hand on her hip and lift her arm up, swaying slowly as she giggles and places her hands on you in return, gliding around as you twirl with her.

Loves it if you ask her for anything, any help, you two are there for each other so why not make use of it? She can become a very busy woman though, so don't go over boarding the requests!

She plays with her hair when she is nervous, just grabs a strand and twirls it in her fingers. If she doesn't want to be as obvious, the hem of her dressing will become her new best friend. Gently twisting the fabric on her hands, rubbing it together as unease sets over her. Hold her hand - give it a soft squeeze - let her know she is okay and you are there.

Clorinde

(once again, i apologise if this is ooc)

If anything does ever happen she's quick to find out and come to your aid, you are her priority. If you're clumsy she'll keep a box of aid on her at all times, due to this while you walk she will have an arm hovering around your side, as she isn't a fan of PDA herself, she will keep a distance between the two of you.

Practically acting as a bodyguard as most people assume when you are first spotted while walking together in the streets. No one will confront you or try straggle for higher prices around the two of you. It’s like walking a doberman, you have big scary dog privileges.

She will refuse to teach you her sword art. However, she will be 100% on teaching you how to defend yourself - if you don’t know how to - coming close and personal to you if you posture is off, standing right behind you as she helps you position yourself for defence or attack. She just wants to make sure you’re safe when she can’t be there to help you. Though, while you two are together, she's soft like putty, completely melts in your arms and just wants to relax. You are her safeguard at home when you are alone.

Clorinde is serious and always ready to take things head-on. This does not involve a private life full of fun and puns. She may be slow to catch onto sarcasm too, taking everything you say seriously - she wants the best for you - even if you made it rather obvious that you were joking. She, was not - which may have causes a couple small arguments or surprises.

She loves animals as much as she may not admit it. She’s probably had a few pets in her lifetime, so when she comes to you and you’re holding a stray kitten, she can’t say no to you when you both send pleading eyes her way. You didn’t think it would be that easy, but it was all worth it when you see the two of them on your sofa, sleeping together, Clorinde holding a protective hold against the kitten who’s snuggled into her neck as she’s on her side. Gently pulling a blanket and kissing her forehead gently you wish her a good sleep.

When Clorinde has to go for duty for longer than usual, you’ll see her gazing out into the window or door as she is in her office. She looks up expectantly as her door opens, however to her dismay it wasn’t you. Wow, how she missed you so much. When the person leaves her office she pulls out a picture you took of the two of you for her, with a small note on the back, “Miss you so much, remember to take care of yourself!” She looks, smiling at the picture before swiftly place bc it back in her pocket. Another person came in.

#genshin #genshin hcs #genshin impact #genshin impact hcs #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshinhcs #genshin imagines #furina x reader #furina x you #furina x y/n #navia x reader #clorinde #navia #furina #zz0nie

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akutasoda · 1 year ago

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hello akuta!!

I was wondering if you could do like proposals or wedding hcs for ranpo, poe, yosano, kouyou (all separate of course), and maybe others if you want!

can i spend my eternity with you?

synopsis - how would they propose a d how is your wedding day

includes - yosano, ranpo, kouyou, poe

warnings - gn!reader, fluff, slight crack, marriage, wc - 842

a/n: hi hi! :)

akiko yosano ★↷

↪if there were a day that she would really indulge in, it would be her wedding day. even if she sometimes thought she'd never have one- it wasn't exactly a priority of hers.

↪but upon meeting you she practically could hear the wedding bells in the distance from day one. so with every little detail, she made sure it would be absolutely perfect.

↪she wasn't into all that fancy stuff, if the two of you loved eachother then that's all that mattered. so she would mostly likely propose at a home date. it made it more special as it was just the two of you.

↪after a long day, she'd look forward to the small date you both agreed for in the evening. and after dinner was out the way you both sat idly watching tv in each others embrace. eventually she got up claiming to go grab a drink before re entering and immediately getting down on one knee.

↪her wedding? well it was a once in a lifetime thing and especially because it was with you, she'd want to be absolutely stunning (fukuzawa was more than happy to fund it). and no matter who walked down the aisle, she swore she never had been so happy seeing you.

ranpo edogawa ★↷

↪he never really thought about marriage. he either thought it was dumb or, after meeting you, thought that the both of you would stay together regardless. he didn't understand the significance of marriage.

↪but through you or someone else telling him why they were so special, he eventually decided to propose. and again, wasn't aiming for anything fancy. afterall he was always straightforward.

↪the most likely scenario would be him simply asking you and handing you a very expensive ring. or maybe he would do a bit of research and arrange ot to be not so casual but it would be really up to what he thought you would prefer.

↪and once you were engaged, he did start thinking about the wedding. he practically couldn't wait, he now finally understood why people loved it so and especially because he would see you walk down the aisle in whatever stunning outfit you wore.

↪the wedding would also be happily funded by fukuzawa, so ranpo may of splurged a bit too much - mainly on the cake for him and whatever you wanted. but at the end of the day he finally had it sink in and he looked at you with the biggest lovestruck look one could imagine.

kouyou ozaki ★↷

↪she always dreamed of her wedding as a girl. it was something she found comfort in envisioning, making up all different styles and visions for it. but never too perfect as she couldn't imagine who with. and meeting you she finally could imagine the best one.

↪fancy yet humble. that's one way to describe it. from the proposal to the wedding day. she's a classic romantic, taking you out to a fancy restaurant (perhaps the one you both first went to) and proposing. and in that moment she swore she came so close to crying.

↪she had booked a table that was rather secluded and waited for all waiters to temporarily disappear. this way it could be a moment shared between the two of you only. and when she hughed you after your acceptance that's when the wiater finally returned and so did she, never letting your hand go.

↪the wedding would be small. she only wanted people very close to her but didn't mind who you invited. and while it was small, it was extravagant. she somehow found a way to make it seem so humble yet so fancy and made it work.

edgar allan poe ★↷

↪he never ever envisioned his marriage. sure he thought about it time to time when he maybe wrote a scene in his books to add twists but not much. and he was perfectly fine with not marrying. just being with you was enough for him.

↪you'd probably have to propose. he's only proposing if you really hint at him and even then he doesn't do so well. he has the absolute best intentions, he's just nervous. very nervous. he plans it out like a classic romantic (he is a classic romantic and i will fight for this statement) but just let his nerves get the best of him.

↪it's not that he doesn't, he does very much so, it's just he's scared of being rejected or embarrassing himself. you do probably watch him drop the ring a few times but you don't mind.

↪another small marriage. he isn't one for big crowds normally so he would absolutely not want a big crowd watch him especially when he's nervous enough. but he doesn't mind if you want to invite loads, its not just his special day afterall.

↪and no matter how long you both have been married, he will stare down at the ring and smile to himself. always wondering how he ever got so lucky.

↪karl is the ring bearer and i take no complaints.

#x reader #x gender neutral reader #bsd x reader #bsd x gender neutral reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x you #bsd x you #bsd yosano #yosano x reader #bsd ranpo #ranpo x reader #bsd kouyou #kouyou x reader #bsd poe #poe x reader #bsd edgar allan poe

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woahrarepairsagemare · 7 days ago

Text

A STEVE SAGA AU - INTERNET STAR ! ____________________

in this au , different steves get to be internet stars ! they can have huge fanbases that hang onto every word they say ^^ They get halos to represent that they're a star , with a twist ! these halos can have spikes on them . The spikes reference just how much influence a star has over the fanbase ! more spikes equals more influence , the sharper the spikes the more harmful this influence is !

____________________

THE CLASSES -

Fans | Haters | Stars | Celebrities | Managers

____________________

INFO -

FANS -

Fans are the base of all the stars you see ! They do not hold the most power in the ranks but without them , the system would not exist ! They help in boosting the popularity of stars , celebrities , managers , you name it ! They get a set of items that allow them to boost the reputation and popularity of stars , ranging between potions , blades and even sweet treats ^_^ They also have some varieties ! to put it short , there are:

stalker fans- These fans are obsessed with the stars they follow , angering them can result in a career going down hill ! They can change their class to be a hater

normal fans- These fans are , just normal ! Angering them isn't a good decision , but they'll forgive their stars eventually !

hyperfixated fans- These are fans that will love a star's content and create lots of fanart and the likes for them ^^

+ -----------------------------------

HATERS -

haters are the worst ! they will be horrible to any stars that do not please them , they are slightly more powerful that fans in terms of levels and sadly , without them the system would never exist ! they have items with them that help ruin a star's reputation and like fans , they too have a few varieties ^^ This includes:

irrational haters- They are , like I said , the worst . They will do anything they can to make a star's career miserable for no reason ! They will look out for any chance they can to shame a star , even if it had happened years ago and the star has been forgiven for it ~

justified haters-Their hate is actually justified and understandable , so long as they're respectful then they're not too bad ! Just , the star shouldn't be an actual bad person .

critics-I don't think I need to explain , they aren't exactly haters but fall under them .

x ---------------------------------------------------

STARS

They are internet sensations ! They get to have fanbases ! ... and haters , both of which give them a boost and make them somewhere in the middle of the power rank ^^ Many of them hold halos ! As I mentioned , they have spikes on those halos ^^ Depending on their influence , they can have either many or few spikes ! Depending on how harmful that influence is the spikes can also be very sharp or very dull . A part of their halos have a space without spikes which they can use to hold the halo and transform it into a weapon ! This weapon can be used to harm others ( metaphor for damaging their reputation ) or even kill them ! There are also varieties of stars , namely:

Vloggers-This type of star makes videos of themselves and how they live their life !

Artists- This type of star makes art and the processes behind it , they also give out helpful art tips !

Animators- This type of star makes art , and also animates it !

Musician- This star makes music ! Several genres exist but they all end up under musician !

documentarian- This star makes documentaries !

Gameplayist-This star makes gameplays !

*---------------------------------------------------

CELEBRITIES -

They are amongst the best , no seriously , have you seen their fanbase and their base of haters ?! They're huge ! They automatically get really spiky halos with insane sharpness , plus the weapons get extra deadly ! They have the same types as the stars but more extravagant , so I won't dive into that , but they have weapon classes like the stars do !

Whip- Yeouch ! if a celebrity uses this on someone , it immediately kills them and drives them off of the internet ! Easily the deadliest ! It's rare to find one of these !

Gun- Critical ! A quick kill ! The other person's reputation is now over ! It might be slow but it'll be painful , second most powerful in the series ! These are rare as well

Sword- Oh no ! A way to prolong someone's suffering before they eventually leave the internet ? what a monster ! the third most powerful in this series , an uncommon

Grenade-Quite the bomb shell , no ? This is a quick one but it's common , sorry !

A bow- Yeesh ! They won't see that coming ! But they might , cause that's a common , babes !

Oh an a bonus for those celebrities that are more popular than the others , they get their own customized weapons ! awesome , right ?!

? ---------------------------------------------------

MANAGERS-

Oh boy , they're at the top of the hierarchy ! Jesus cheesus , they can ruin your reputation with a single message , no weapon needed ! But if you happen to be a star or celebrity managed by them , they are all you need . There are no classes or divisions , everyone that's a manager has no face nor any defining features on social media ! Quite the enigma .

____________________

Don't tell me you thought that was it ?

Don't you wanna know the characters ?

then stay on with me won't you , yeah ?

____________________

THE MAIN PROTAGONISTS !

1. Reverse :-

Type and Class: A musician star ! specifically a rockstar !

Halo: Not very sharp ! medium-many spikes

items: A guitar , microphone and a spiked scene-type bracelet

Info: Reverse is a happy go lucky type of star who loves making rock music ! He is friends with Rainbow and Dark and makes music not for his fans , but for himself ! The poor chap normally has some self esteem issues but is always confident when around his friends ^^

Stats:

STRESS: [ 23 / 100 ]

CONFIDENCE: [ 56 / 100 ]

DEADLY ?: NOT LIKELY .

2 . Rainbow :-

Type and Class: Retired . No one is sure of what he used to make for content .

Halo: Since he retired , his halo is invisible , however , it is insanely sharp and the spikes literally cover it completely .

Items: A photo album .

Info: not much is known about him or his content as he has wiped all traces of his existence from the internet and goes by an pseudonym as a fan . How ever , his fanbase is still very active and have made countless archives of him . Rainbow is an apathetic and generally monotone guy but shows emotion when he feels the need to , he is friends with many people , Reverse amongst them . He doesn't seem to struggle but clearly hates attention that is focused on him .

Stats:

STRESS: [ 100 / 100 }

CONFIDENCE: [ N / A }

DEADLY ?: [ N / A ]

THE SIDE CHARACTERS !

1. Sage :-

Class and type: Hyperfixated Fan

Halo: None , he's a fan , what did you expect ?

Items: A green potion bottle , envelope ( fanmail written by him ) and a sharpening blade

Info: Sage is a sweet little guy who loves supporting small streamers ! He shares positive relationships with both Reverse and Rainbow , alongside Sanguine , his best friend ! He can help new streamers or stars by boosting them with his potion , his fanmail and also sharpen the spikes on their halo using his blade ! He is really polite and a big fan of Nightmare ^^

Stas:

SANITY: { 83 / 100 ]

CONFIDENCE: [ 65 / 100 }

DEADLY ? : [ NO . ]

2. Sanguine :-

Class and type: Justified Hater

Halo: Again , none .

Items: A dulling blade , a red potion bottle .

Info: Yeesh ! Sanguine 's hate is unadulterated and heated , for good reasons too ! He may seem rowdy and rough but inside he is the most moral person you'll meet ! He'll show nothing but empathy ! He shares positive relations with Sage . If a star is really .. urgh ! Then he can use his dulling blade to dull their spikes , rendering their influence useless ! The red potion is used to weaken a star's influence !

stats:

SANITY: [ 70 / 100 ]

CONFIDENCE: [ 70 / 100 ]

DEADLY ? : [ YES . ]

____________________

THE MAIN ANTAGONISTS .

oh boy .

1 . Nightmare :-

Class and Type: A Celebrity known for his fashion .

Weapon Class: A whip .

Halo: His halo is literally just spikes , nothing else , also they're sharper than a pencil made of tungsten .

Items: A phone , a cutting blade .

Info: Perhaps one of the most famous celebrities you'll see on the internet ! Beloved of all , and hated by all . He does not have any known relations with anyone . He can use his phone to boost his own reputation , his cutting blade to destroy the halos of stars he hates , and his whip to completely drive them off of the internet . He probably likes ruining a fan's day for fun .

Stats:

STRESS: [ 89 / 100 ]

CONFIDENCE: [ 93 / 100 ]

DEADLY ? : [ VERY ]

2 . Dark :-

Class and Type: A documentarian star .

Halo: Not many spikes , but those spikes that are on it are very sharp .

Items: A folder filled with files and a camera .

Info: As a star that makes really interesting documentaries , Dark is really good at keep track of events on the internet and what not ! He shares a friendship with Reverse and a close platonic bond with Nightmare . He can use his folder to bring up information about any stars or any of the horrible things they've done in the past to add a permanent stain to their reputation . He can use the camera to keep a permanent record of another star's actions as blackmail .

Stats:

STRESS: [ 50 / 100 ]

CONFIDENCE: [ 90 / 100 ]

DEADLY ? : [ MOST LIKELY . ]

____________________

THANKS FOR REAIDNG THIS ENTIRE THREAD !! I SPENT 2 DAYS MAKING THIS ^o^ !!

____________________

more to come soon !

#steve saga #the steve saga #favremysabre #favremysabreart #steve saga origins #green steve #rainbow steve #nightmare steve #red steve #reverse steve #dark steve #TSS X NSO - THE INTERNET STAR SAGA !#INTERNET SAGA ORIGINS !

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twstjam · 1 year ago

Text

I have some writing juices today but idk if I'll finish something enough to post so here are some "Malleyuu scenes I can see vividly in my head and really want to write but haven't gotten around to yet" because who knows WHEN if ever I'll write these.

(DISCLAIMER: It's not specified but these are all set in aus!! Canon compliance? I'm sure she's lovely but I don't know her)

Scene where Yuu wakes up in the Draconias' castle after being rescued by Prince Malleus (secretly their bestie Tsunotarou) and they get dragged around by the castle staff into a warm bath, fitted into fancy castle clothes, and guided to an extravagant dining table to have a mouth-watering breakfast. Everyone is making a fuss about how Yuu is the prince's special guest so they HAVE to be served flawlessly and have all their needs met, meanwhile Yuu is just. Incredibly confused.

Scene where Yuu gets attacked/kidnapped and the Heartslabyul boys are there to save them, but suddenly a bigass dragon shows up out of nowhere and ofc everyone is scared shitless. The dragon fucks up the attackers/kidnappers so Heartslabyul and Yuu take their chance to flee. Before they can get away though, the dragon swoops down on them. They all drop to the ground, but the dragon manages to snatch up Yuu in its claws (with Grim squished in there too) and flies off with them.

Yuu gets kidnapped part 2: Heartslabyul FREAKS out bcs of course they do their friend just got yoinked by a DRAGON. But when Adeuce go to save them (against Riddle's orders ofc. It's too dangerous and he didn't wanna risk losing them too 🥺) they're unexpectedly welcomed into the Draconias' castle and instead of seeing their friends in peril like they expected, they stumble upon the strange sight of Yuu and Grim living luxuriously; being fed the most delicious foods, sleeping on the silkiest sheets, and being dressed in the finest clothes. Neither Yuu and Grim know wtf is going on either but they're not complaining.

Scene where Yuu gets a message from their friend Tsunotarou to evacuate the people of their town. Tsunotarou doesn't explain why, but Yuu trusts him so they do as he says. After evacuating, Yuu along with the townsfolk watch from afar as an army of fae led by dragons descend upon the kingdom.

Possible part 2 to the previous one? The country's been liberated from the tyrant king or whatever and the fae are helping the humans get back on their feet or smthg. Anyways scene where Yuu is either: a) summoned to stand before the fae royalty (THE DRAGONS) b) VISITED by the fae royalty (still THE DRAGONS) and for both they think they're in big trouble for whatever reason but then PLOT TWIST one of the dragons is TSUNOTAROU!!!! (these two last ones could fit into my one-shot "Break in the Clouds" actually :O)

#disney twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #malleyuu #malleus draconia #twst yuu #ramshackle prefect #heartslabyul #ace trappola #deuce spade #twst grim #heartshackle my utmost beloved #malleus draconia x reader #malleus x reader #malleus draconia x yuu #malleus x yuu #malleus x mc #malleus draconia x mc #matcha nonsense #matcha writes a bit

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wolftoes · 9 months ago

Text

Reader Takes The Pillarmen to a Renaissance Fair!

A/N: This has been in my drafts for LITERAL YEARS, but im finally posting it. I will let it rot no longer. I'm sorry I didn't do anything for Santana, I couldn't think of anything for him.

Kars

At first, he was disinterested, as you weaved through the crowded medieval street. He thought he was above such festivities.

Plus, why would humans wish to relive a time they were less advanced? This seemed silly and illogical.

Until he saw a stall full of tiaras.

Then, he was like a kid in a candy store. It was almost scary.

He picked out this one. (But more expensive and extravagant, of course.)

He never took it off. He wouldn't acknowledge you unless you called him "Your Highness," or the like.

It wasn't just for the day, either. He kept up that act for two months.

He also bought a luxurious black cloak.

Needless to say, your wallet hurts.

Esidisi

He's excited.

Particularly, about the pirates. And the alcohol.

He is parading around, in a shirtless pirate costume, with one of those fancy hats with a giant feather, and he is carrying a pint in each hand.

He got challenged to a drinking contest in one of the taverns, and naturally, an ambulance had to be called. Not for him, though.

He ended up getting banned from that particularly tavern, and subsequently all of the others at the venue.

Somehow, he still seems to be stone-cold sober... (haha)

Wamuu

When you told him about the fair, he was intrigued.

As you explained to him what this was, it came to light that he had a particular interest in the joust at the end of the night.

You both had been doing the regular activities, when the joust was announced.

You followed the crowd to the arena, and one of the more crucial actors had fallen sick.

The announcer noticed Wamuu, and ended up asking if he could fill in for the knight. Wamuu, of course, agreed.

They quickly suited him with the largest set of armor they had, and they continued with the event.

He ended up showing off some of his abilities to the crowd, though carefully as not to actually injure any of the actors.

It was a plot twist that the crowd adored.

By the time it was over, they were asking him to return next year.

However, they ended up deciding to have him only do occasional cameos.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba headcanons #battle tendency #jjba pillar men #pillarmen headcanons #pillar men #kars jjba #kars headcanons #kars #edidisi #esidisi jjba #esidisi headcanons #jjba wamuu #wamuu #wamuu headcanons

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musicforastylesrestaurant · 1 year ago

Text

Welcome to Fictober!

Get ready for a series of enjoyable stories leading up to Halloween.

Every Saturday, a new story will be released, offering you a dose of Halloween spirit. With a special story posted on Tuesday 31st October.

From nostalgic trick-or-treating to the joy of pumpkin carving and the thrill of watching classic horror films, and even a few different things that you totally won’t be expecting. These fics will capture the essence of the season, offering a few tricks as well as a few treats.

So, mark your calendar and join us on this journey to make your Saturdays a little more special in the run-up to Halloween.

Forever At The Pumpkin Patch. [ 7th October, 2023. ]

in which, your boyfriend knew that halloween was your favourite holiday of the year, you went all out, dressed up in extravagant costumes, decorated your shared house more than you did at christmas and made little goody bags to give out to the children that knocked on your door. after being together for a total of four years, you lover boy organises a candle lit picnic at your favourite spot, the pumpkin patch where he asks you a very important question.

The Masquerade. [ 14th October, 2023. ]

in which, your friend drags you along to a high school reunion halloween party, which you one hundred percent do not feel in the mood to attend, but his nagging doesn't hold off, so being the good friend you are, you give into his nagging. a shocking revelation occurs when your ex walks through the door who you as well as everyone else didn’t expect to turn up leading to a confrontation that's nothing but emotional.

Halloween Movie Marathon. [ 21st October, 202. ]

in which, of your first halloween where all of your children finally understand the concept, after having taken them out trick or treating, the four of you all cuddle up on the sofa, hot coco in one hand whilst your other dips in and out of there sweet bucket, a movie marathon where the films are child friendly halloween films which both you and your husband can’t wait to show your children, creating not only a family tradition but memories to last a lifetime.

The Impossible Miracle. [ 28th October, 2023. ]

in which, what you thought would turn out as a fun filled halloween evening with your fiancé turns out to be anything of the sorts, you collapse in pain, coughing up blood as your body convulses where your rushed to the hospital via your fiancés car where the a trip to the witches inform you of something you never thought would be possible given your lover is a creature of the night.

A Love Beyond Time. [31st October, 2023. ]

in which, in 1864, a serene town was the canvas for your budding love story, as you joyfully prepared for a life together with your beloved fiancé. However, the tranquility shattered in one heart-wrenching moment during an unexpected town assault. Witnessing your fiancé's lifeless body crumple to the ground, your world came crashing down, forever altering the course of your existence. You were left haunted by that fateful day, struggling to piece together a life in the aftermath of the tragedy, while whispers of a supernatural twist and the possibility of a reunion with your once-lost love lingered on the edges of your consciousness, marking the passage of years and bringing an enigmatic undercurrent to your existence.

If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know, either in through my asks, messages or comments.

Whose ready…?

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darkdemeter · 2 months ago

Note

So, I got a little inspired by that Death x male reader fic you wrote (which was amazing 💖), so can I request the Horsemen with a male reader who knows ballet or something? Haven't seen a lot of fics where the male reader actually dances ballet...

・issue・ BALLET IS A STORY TOLD

⚤ Horsemen x Male Reader a bit of angst, reader has a small anxious before-show breakdown, subtle depiction of broken family/abuse/childhood - young adult trauma, overall the Horsemen are supportive in the end ✎ 3k

✎ Yes you can, dear anon!

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

By all accounts, you still had the knack of it. It's like you never really stopped dancing despite the apocalypse and it was a given that you'd had your minor slip ups here and there. But overall, you still retained an elegant gate between your twirls, twists and extravagant arcs.

In ballet, it is the art of storytelling. A human's strong point. Creatures who express their life, their hardships, their defeats and their achievements through the practice of the arts. It's the one thing that allows all to become connected. It is why theatre is so compelling. Through the pronounce of each syllable be it spoken or sung, the voice is captured by the spirit of story. The emotion encapsulated through the narrative being told. Ballet is very much the same.

Each recorded twist and drag of your foot, ever single pirouette demonstrates the coming turn of your life, all the exchanges either good or bad you have been dealt.

The bounce of your weight as you lift yourself up, purposeful to fall down to your knees. This is a story of your own inner demons. Your inside turmoil. The journey you experienced to survive the end times.

By far, Strife was the most impressed, at least in terms of outwardly expressing it with much enthusiasm. The others were either more reserved or did not care too much.

"Whoa! Do that again, that-- that move." Strife isn't as fluent as you. After all, he was a gunslinging rider with boot heels too thick to not be qualified for ballet. So you understand his struggle and to prevent him from breaking his own two legs as he tries to copy what you did, you offer an understanding smile and nod.

"Okay, okay," you laugh and retreat back onto the main stage, "Just don't hurt yourself." Assuming position, you balance your weight, keeping your form firm and poise and taking a moment to still yourself you move almost too fast for the four Horsemen to even register before you're already doing the daring move that would surely break your neck if you landed wrong.

Strife lets out a loud cheer in response and pushes into Fury's shoulder, the action enough to rattle her. She bites back a venomous snarl and equally threatening glare.

"How long have you been dancing for?" War asks with a brief inflection to his tone. A surprising note in all honestly, a rare sound. You hum in thought before you answer, shrugging, "Ever since I was little, really. I started dancing with my mom when I was around four."

At this, Death's eyes flare a little. You give him a small smirk in response. "Yeah, ballet takes quite a learning curve. You have to be extremely flexible and you must remain a high level of focus."

You know that the reaper may have his reservations but one thing he does admire is skill and the discipline undertaken to acquire it. He was one to admire in silence more often than not, his compliments served under the cover of you both being together without the interference of anyone else. It was Fury you had the hardest time to impress, the female Horseman still trying to break from that shell. She had her moments where she could see the further beauty in what humans did, but tethers of her old self remained; but that is the case with all living things, is it not?

Remnants of the past are always below the surface and linger as haunting shadows. So you only pushed yourself harder to prove to her that your talent, the artform of ballet, was a thing of beauty and stun. Something so much more than what she may perceive it to be.

War was the youngest and though a strong and resilient warrior, he was rather impressionable when it came to learning about humanity. The further he delved into it, so too did his thirst of knowledge for more.

Around the stage, the other humans continue to prepare for the show tonight. Humanity was slowly crawling its way back into a sense of normalcy and by vote, a performance show was decided as the winner. A first, revolutionary step in the re-progress of your species. And the Horsemen were going to attend it.

Yes, you were quite nervous if you had to admit it but you couldn't let them know that. So you put on the brave face the moment they arrived to see what you were up to, having just finished a scouting skirmish along the boarders of New Haven. That's when Strife had begged you to show them a bit of your dance for the show.

You obliged and now here you were. You sit down before them with a sigh, allowing the sun's warmth to bath over you, showering you with a pressing heat that had sweat line the curve of your brow.

"So, front row seats for you guys?" you joke with a teasing grin. War's face stiffens, painted over by a crimson hue and Strife scratches at the back of his neck with a chuckle. "We'd like to but uh..."

Oh...

"You guys aren't gonna come see the show?" you ask, already dreading the answer. "What? No," Fury scowls, "We're all taller than the other humans. We would block the view for everyone else."

The way she says it so harshly as if it's the most obvious thing in the entire universe. And it was.

"Oooh..."

"Did you truly believe we would not come?" asks War, Strife quick to add behind, "The audacity! As if we'd miss it. You're breaking my heart, Y/N."

Sheepishly you comb a lock of your to the side of your scalp, teeth clenched taut and your jaw fixed tightly. "Heh heh... sorry, I just get a little... weird about shows. The nerves I guess."

“You get nervous before all of your shows?” You look to Death even surprised that he took a verbal risk in asking that. With a shrug and quiet tut of your tongue, musing to find the words, you speak.

“I’ve always had a sort of nervous breakdown before every show I did. Since I was around… seven or so, I—“ you freeze. You lock up. Suddenly your eyes become misted over by a blur of tears and you stand, the action abrupt enough to startle the Horsemen.

“Hey, hey, you play?” Strife questions as he reaches a hand out to take hold of your wrist, but you quickly and gently away it away. You assure their concern with a forced smile they barely see because of how you’ve turned away from them.

“Yeah, I’m good. I gotta get back to practising and help the others finish setting up. See you guys later.”

Fury's eyes wrinkle into a pointed, studying glare after you and her hands rise to rest on the plated armor of her hips. "Does anyone else find that oddly strange?"

"Yeah," Strife hums lowly, also looking after you, "really strange..."

Death passes his siblings by with a sturdy pat and jostle to Strife's shoulder, stirring him and Fury from their wonder. "Best not dwell on it. Come, we still have our own tasks to complete."

It was no easy feat to simply leave. Not when there was that mystery hanging over you now, your sudden change in attitude that had you all skittish and avoiding them.

With nightfall finally came, the show was preparing to begin. Humans were setting into their seats which were mainly either carved out limbs of logs or blankets to sit on.

And one by one, your fellow performers went out on stage and without fault nor flaw, they committed to their entertaining act that had the audience in applause in cheers, the Horsemen doing more or less the same. But what you dread most is that they're only here to see you perform. Alya announces the end the of the last performance artist, a pair who did a juggling and balancing act, a funny twin duo you came to know pretty well. Their shenanigans had the kids especially in a fit of laughter.

Bless them. It made you smile to see everyone in higher spirits. But the moment your eyes sought out the Horsemen, sitting off towards the back but not too far, you feel that vile chill run through you as if your soul dissipates within your very body.

"Yer up next," Ulthane says from behind you. You barely heard him over the crowd who cheered on the next performer to come out. Your turn. It was now your turn.

Your eyes glisten with that terrible, telling well of tears. Your breath feels thick and sticky against your lungs and your fingers tremble as they grip tightly to whatever they could on yourself.

"What's wrong, wee one?" Ulthane asks now as he leans down closer. You finally turn your gaze to him and he sees the burning edge of your red eyes and your lips quivering, chin wobbling.

"I-I can't do it."

"What'cha mean ye can't do it. 'C'urs ye can."

You shake your head with adamancy and you slowly, ballet shoes scraping hard to scuff at the wooden boards of the backstage, you back away. "No, Ulthane- I can't do this."

Though Ulthane uses one of his enormous hands to herd you back towards where you would have entered stage from, he doesn't completely force you to stop, though he means to encourage you to stay.

"Is there a reason you're keeping the audience waiting?"

You gasp sharply and now turn yourself completely.

"Death!" you sigh aloud, a hand brushing over your eyes to hide the gloss of tears in your eyes. "I was just telling Ulthane that-- I... can't go out on stage..."

Death's eyes raise up to the Maker and as if silently commanding through a single glance, the old one huffs at the reader, nose seeming to wrinkle with a small snarl before his steps thunder off. Death now steps closer to you and his shadow rises over you, making you feel small beneath his height. You peer up at him through the wetted curtain of your lashes.

"What are you afraid of?"

Your answer immediately dies on your tongue the moment you feel you're about to blurt it out. But the look Death gives you is far more pressing than you'd like, a dark radiance of fire that holds a firm command and sway over you. Compelling you to answer. "I'm just... afraid you're going to laugh at me."

"What? Why would we laugh at you?" Death's hands lift up to rest on your shoulders. His skin is cold to the touch but it soothes the buzzing heat that dwells and clings to you like an awful layer of skin. Your fingers twitch and fiddle with each other, gripping tightly. Death notices it and his one hand covers your hands whole, keeping them still. Your head jerks away, hiding the flow of tears that escape down your cheeks.

"Because I look silly! My- my choreography can be a bit jarring when I'm nervous and-- and I-" Your throat feels like its closing in on itself, choking the words around your sobs. "I'm sorry!"

"Look at me, Y/N," he says coolly, "look at me."

You finally allow your eyes to meet his and you sniffle loudly. His eyes invite you with a certain warmness you've never seen before. It makes your heart melt.

"Nobody is going to laugh at you. I promise."

A short hiccup interrupts what you meant to say and you hear the reaper conceal a deep, throaty chuckle. "You'll do well. Now go on, get out there. Everyone's waiting to see your performance."

You finally take to the stage's center not too long after Death retreats as if he moved one with the shadows themselves, almost making you second guess yourself and if he truly had been there; giving you those inspiring words of affirmation and willing you to be brave.

Death comes back around to his siblings who each look to him with a questionable look. "You cheer for him and you cheer loudly. Am I understood?"

"What?" Fury asks with a roughened course to her voice. Strife means to butt in with, "Course I'll cheer, why wouldn't I-- oww!" He only earns a smack upside the head.

"No questions about it." Death's eyes drift aside until they focus on Fury. "Cheer."

When ready, you assumed position, the arc of weight balanced in the hips. Your chest rose and fell with full, steady and slow breaths as you counted yourself in. Thankfully there were some musicians among the survivors to provide an ambient track to your dance.

Like all stories, you start at the beginning. A story of love and family, your movement flows with a graceful softness. Each turn and twist a gentle caress that lays out the foundation of your inspiring upbringing, the love that you parents held for each other and you. The story how they met and fell for the other amidst their dances. Two solos that combined as one and brought in the unification that conceived you.

To every sway of the portrayal, the Horsemen watch in silent awe. War and Strife allow their entire attention to be taken with you, invested in the happiness of your tale. Fury's eyes remain as stern as ever, critical of every possible flaw you could make, the minute detail of humanity's disaster that fell into your life. Her interpretation leaves her with no visible moving.

But then your narrative takes a darker turn. Your movements once slow, each step paced with peacefulness turn jarring and ragged, sharp and winding until your body is lashing out at itself. You fall repeatedly, your body trying to cope and recover but you keep getting beaten down.

Your muscles become tense under the skin, your hands clutch at the scalp of your hair until they claw downward the column of your neck.

Your audience sinks into an eerie, sorrowful silence. Your feet drag with the hefted weight of your burdens and failures. You become more aggressive in your pirouettes and high turns that leap into the air, catching your weight with the vent of your pent up anger. Once prosperous with love, the garden of family died with the shame and tearing of that unity. Torn apart and rendered poisoned, the flowers were lost into a wilted fray.

You came to resent life outside of ballet. You were a bird caught on a wire, tethered to a post repeatedly beating itself into a bloody mess.

The Horsemen are finally given insight to your history through the passion of your art. Your story not as bright as they thought. Much laid hidden beneath the smiles and kinder words you offered. A scarred body was wrapped up inside the bandages you call a shell. It's haunting and beautiful they find.

Even Fury's brow line creases, troubled by the story you confess now. How wrong she's been so many times to judge you simply because she did not know you well enough to know that the tears in your eyes held a deeper pool of concealed secrets. Ones that were scared to come to the surface and breath for the first time in seemingly forever.

The milky white hue of her own eyes waver, glistening with a streak that paints her waterline. Such pain you express, how lonely you were in those times where you needed another's aid so desperately but sought out none.

She leans forward in her place, now joining the longing to know more of you. Many times you come to meet their eyes through your performance, uttering your apologies through your connected stare. You're sorry you've kept them guessing, that you kept them at arms length when you yourself tried to get closer to them; only to then push them away when they set forth a devoted interest.

The aggression. The abuse continues. It builds, and builds and builds until it finally and so abruptly stops. You fall to your back and lay still for a moment, a series of gasps echo over your audience.

Craning forward, you arch and follow the curve of your spine, your frame tucked firmly and smoothly. You sit up to curl in on yourself, sliding around to present your side's profile before you push yourself up, leading your weight through the guide of your hips and the strength hold on your legs. You convey the strength it took to get back up after your death.

After the apocalypse. The final arc of your story. Your moves blend between the constricting sharpness and the delicate softness you expressed before. Unity is found but at a cost you thought at the time too much to pay and endure.

But there was hope here in this part if your life. Found and cared for by the Horsemen, guided safely and onward to a better tomorrow, promised it would be okay.

You spin fast and many, incapable to slow like the whirlwind of your internal thoughts. A battle so baffling and maddening that the Horsemen feel their breath become lost within it until you finally slow. So too does their anxieties.

At the stage's center you enter your final form.

Poised, calm and collected. Safe and at rest at long last. Surrounded by unity and love. No longer alone and suffering.

'Nobody will laugh. I promise.'

Your audience breaks into an eruptive applause. With a smile that stretches into the corners of your lips, your brows fall into a grateful furrow. You give a humble bow before you meet the eyes of the Horsemen.

Fury, moved by such an intricate retelling and inspired by your bravery to step forward into the light with your truthful tale, stands up to clap. Her brothers follow suit, Strife more or less bouncing on his feet until he shakes the foundations of the realm itself. War gives a loud cry akin to a fearsome battle cry that praises your performance.

You're thankful that Death encouraged you to brave the moment. Had he not, then you would forever be running instead of dancing.

It's finally understood that a human's most natural and influential talent is the art to tell stories.

source of inspiration for this fic request: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ozs_f4ZT9sw

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