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notaboypossiblyagenius · 2 months ago

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And when I call, you come home — E. Prentiss

warnings: depictions of blood, r has a pretty bad injury (a gunshot), angst, so much angst, no use of yn, technically no death, i’ve never seen snow, idk how it works so this is probably inaccurate, that’s not my problem tho. no happy ending, but whatever happens after the ending is up to you not me mwuahaha

wc: ~1,400

a/n: thank you to the sweetest ever @emilys-bangs for proofreading, shes getting many forehead kisses. i wrote this whilst listening to i know the end by phoebe bridgers. that’s all i’m gonna say.

let me know what you think, pretty please :3 comments, reblogs, and feedback are so super very appreciated!

In any other situation, the sight of snow resting on Emily’s eyelashes and the rosy hue coloring her cheeks would have made you smile. But now, the contrast of pink against Emily’s pale skin was akin to the blood seeping into the snow beneath your thigh.

"Take a deep breath." The words echoed in your mind just before the piercing pain of pressure shot up your leg. You gritted your teeth and inhaled sharply, unsure whether to feel relieved or terrified that your leg had gone numb.

“I’m sorry, ‘m so sorry,” Emily muttered, her voice tight as she tied the sleeve she'd torn from her jacket around your leg, the makeshift tourniquet pulling painfully. Through the haze of agony, you could catch a glimpse of her expression—a flicker of apology behind her determined gaze. A sheen layer of sweat covered your forehead as the last traces of color drained from your face. Your lips quivered in the biting cold, and suddenly, it felt like the tree you were propped against was sinking its teeth into your back.

The sound of blood rushing through your ears made it difficult to discern the sounds around you, but what you could hear was Emily barking desperate commands into her communication device. Your vision blurred, and you could barely make out her crouched form, her hand trembling slightly as it held the sleeve in place.

Your eyelids grew heavier with each blink, and your ragged breaths became slower. In any other situation, Emily might have thought you were simply falling asleep, but she knew better now. She knew you couldn’t. Her cold hands patted your cheeks frantically, the rough texture of her calloused palms scratching at your skin, but you didn’t have the energy to protest.

“Hey! Hey, stay with me,” she urged, her voice taut with fear, her eyes wide as she searched your face for signs of fading consciousness. “Keep your eyes open. Keep ‘em on me.” You tried—God, you tried to keep your focus on her, to cling to the anchor of her presence like you always had. But the pain was loud, the adrenaline had long since drained from your body, and all you wanted to do was succumb to the temptation of sweet relief your brain was offering.

“Hurts like hell,” you mumbled, your trembling hand reaching for her wrist. Your fingers weakly closed around her skin, the pressure barely there, but Emily felt it—she felt you hanging on, even if only by a thread.

“I know, I know,” she soothed, her voice cracking ever so slightly as she leaned closer. “But you’re okay. You’re gonna be okay.” Your grip tightened subtly, a silent gesture. Of what? She couldn’t tell. But in that moment, she took it as a lifeline, clinging to the hope that you were still fighting.

“Where the hell are the medics?!” she shouted into the mic on her wrist, her lips pulling back in a snarl, frustration and fear overtaking her composure. You had spent hours studying Emily's face in quiet moments, memorizing every nuance—the slight crease in her brow, the tiny twitch in her eye. So when you saw those familiar signs of distress, you knew things were bad.

“What is it?” you croaked, forcing the words through your dry throat, fighting to stay conscious. Emily pressed her palm against her forehead, trying desperately to keep it together for your sake. But with your blood seeping into her hands, the icy air cutting through her lungs, and the knowledge that the paramedics couldn’t reach you, she felt like she was on the verge of breaking.

“The roads are icy. The medics... they can’t get to us.” Her voice wavered, betraying the terror she was trying so hard to suppress. You closed your eyes, a silent curse slipping through your cold lips followed by a shiver.

“Okay, here’s what we’re gonna do,” she said, her voice shaking. You looked at her and she looked up at the darkening sky, sending a silent prayer to the one she hadn’t talked to in years. She licked her lips, inhaling deeply as if the cold air could steady her nerves. She looked back down at you, taking in the face she’d memorized over the years. The face she’d walk through hell for.

“They,” She began, her voice betraying the fear that coursed through her. the fear of not being able to do enough for you. “They’re not that far out.” She looked out into the woods, perhaps towards the road? you couldn’t tell. “We can meet them,” She assured, squeezing your hand.

You shook your head, you were more than appreciative for her stubbornness. She never knew when to stop; but, you were tired.

“No..” you shuddered, a faint smile on your lips as if you were trying to ease the hard to swallow pill you were about to shove in her mouth. “I— I can’t feel my leg, Emily.”

Emily’s face dropped and a bitter taste flooded her senses. She had two options, she could either let the fear paralyze her or she could paralyze her fear and save you—It was a no brainer.

She wrapped a hand around your left wrist, tucking her head under your arm. You winced in surprise, your sore muscles pulsing, reacting to her touch.

“Emily—” your protest died on your lips as she hooked her right arm under your non-injured leg, effectively distributing your weight across her shoulders as she stood.

A fireman’s carry, the most basic skill taught and practiced at the academy. A carry executed during sparring sessions and physical tests. A carry that she had associated with giggles and kicks as she used it to get you from her couch to her bed when you’d fall asleep. After years in the field, she’d finally applied it outside of a controlled environment, but as she took heavy-footed steps through the snow she wanted to close her eyes and be back in her living room. She wanted nothing more than for you to throw punches as you giggled and protested to be put down.

Her shoulders dug into your chests and stomach, the feeling making your breath ragged again. You didn’t know how long you’d been walking for, everything had blurred together after the bullet tore through your thigh.

"We're almost there," she promised, her voice steady despite the tremor in her breath. Her fingers dug into your leg, the pressure of her grip grounding you as the wail of sirens screamed in the distance, growing louder with every step she took. The dark stain of your blood seeped through her jacket, a vivid reminder of the weight she carried—not just your body, but the possibility of your life slipping through her hands. Every step was agony, her muscles burning with the strain.

The flashing of red and blue came into view and she could feel tears stinging in her eyes. She could hear Morgan yelling her name, and as his figure got closer she almost yelled at him for being in her way. Her legs gave out under her, and she placed you on the ground as gently as she could. “She’s concious—She’s concious but she’s lost a lot of blood, I—” She rambled, her hands holding yours impossibly tight. The paramedics surrounded the both of you, and Emily was afraid to let go. Afraid that this would be the last time she held you.

She pleaded with the stars above that they would consider her, that for once in her life they’d consider her. She felt you squeeze her hand back and that made her all the more reluctant to let go. But she couldn’t be selfish. she couldn’t do that to you.

“Prentiss! Woah, Prentiss! Let her go, you’ve done enough.” Derek’s voice cut through the haze that had overcome her, His hands enveloping her as she watched the paramedics take over.

Everything else seemed to blur together, is this what it’d been like for you?

After some back and forth with one of the paramedics, she gave in to being checked out. Derek sat next to her as she pulled the thermal blanket closer to herself, the thought of your blood being on her hands—figuratively and literally—made her shiver, though she chalked it up to the cold.

“She’s going to make it, Emily.” Derek voiced, but how could he know? He had no way of knowing, neither did she. She watched the sirens grow distant from the spot where she sat, all she could do was hope she’d done enough for you.

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss angst #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #cm #angst so much angst

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milliesfishes · 2 months ago

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omg you write angst so well😭😭😭 literally been sobbing while reading your latest works 😭😭😭😭😭 anyways here’s an idea: billy finally settles down with you and the two of you start a family and have a little daughter together (girl dad! billy agenda never ends!!) and right before he almost thinks he has it all the world takes you from him :(

⋆౨ৎI Can Go Anywhere I Want, Just Not Home⋆౨ৎ

[fem reader] contains: death, grief, illness, *angst* pairing: billy the kid x fem reader summary: you were the center of billy's world, and the center faded away author’s note: offering my apologies once again <3 tagging @phantomamor because they helped me come up with some of the content <3 Pinterest Board Spotify Playlist

Everything was bright, the day an endless dawn that rested its rosy cheek on the glass that covered the earth and touched the spot between reality and dreams.

You felt the stirrings of that feeling as you leaned on the porch railing, hair falling over one shoulder and tickling your wrist. The wood was grainy and smooth under your palm, and you shifted from one foot to the other, dulling the ache brought on by the activities of the day. It was a happy thing, borne of the many joys present in your life.

Off in the distance, by the oak tree that sprouted thick and wide, with leaves that blocked the sun on summer afternoons, your daughter sat among the knotted roots, playing quietly by herself. You had always said Annie was born content, evident in the way she minded herself, preferring long daylight hours spent alone. It was a touching thing, how comfortable she was within the confines of her imagination.

Bootsteps thumped on the wood of the porch, the boards creaking under Billy's weight, and then a pair of warm hands were creeping around your waist like the vines that crawled up the walls of the house, pulling you in. You smiled, leaning back and finding his body less than a breath away. He ducked his head and pressed a kiss to your cheek, the gentle prickling of love lingering long after. "How's my wife?"

Five years you'd been married, and still you could hear the way he relished the word like a sweet melting on his tongue. Billy wore his ring proudly, brandishing it for all the world to see. The gunslinger feared far and wide across the south was tied down, and he was happy for it.

You had been pleasantly surprised by how well he took to domesticity after so long on the run. He'd built this house for the two of you, every nail hammered in establishing permanence. It had been a rare luxury for him before, even when you'd met. But he'd proudly given you the brass key to your new house, sweeping you into his arms to carry you over the threshold even though you'd been married for a year at that point.

Now, standing on the porch built with your husband's own hands, sheathed in his arms, you could practically feel the love he'd siphoned into every board, every wall. Billy hadn't only built you a house, he'd built a life. All those nights holding him, promising him he wasn't ruining yours had come to fruition. It had been clear when your belly had begun to swell with his child, a promise of tomorrow. And it was clear now, as you watched that little girl hum to herself under the tree that had been a mere sapling when you'd first moved in.

The first breaths of spring were opening the world up again, sunshine kissing your skin and whispering about new beginnings. It instilled a sense of hope in you, something beautiful brimming with joy. This was your favorite time of year.

"I'm good," you responded to Billy, holding one of his hands against your stomach. "Really good."

He kissed the top of your head, swaying the two of you back and forth. "Should we go inside?" Billy nosed at your neck. "Think you need a little lovin'..."

You laughed, turning around in his arms and pressing your cheek to his chest. "With Annie out here?"

"Aw, she won't come inside 'till it's past dark and we make her." You could hear his smile in his words, and you lifted your chin, tilting your head and letting your hair brush his hands on your waist.

"Hm, maybe you're right," you murmured, reaching up and playing with his collar, straightening it out.

Billy ducked his head to catch your lips in a brief, tender kiss. He pecked your lips once after. "Just make sure to be quiet."

"I'm not the one who-oh-!" Suddenly you were being hauled up, lifted to hang over his shoulder like a sack of flour. He laughed quietly, not wanting to disturb Annie out in the distance, carrying you through the door of the house and shutting it gently. Your hair obstructed your view, and you parted the silky curtain when he bent, setting you down on your feet and grabbing your hand.

"C'mon, pretty-" Billy paused, looking at you and squeezing your palm. "Baby? You okay?"

You were frozen, eyes wide with a sudden realization of the happenings within you. Your skin was icy hot, a blizzard and a wildfire blended into a raging storm that ravaged at your chest. It tore into your bones, filled them with a cloud of dread. Something's wrong.

Billy came closer, blue eyes struck with concern as he searched yours. "Sweetheart...what-?"

Your knees buckled, weakness spreading in a swarm that enveloped your body. Now you were tumbling, poised to hit the ground before Billy's arms caught you, his voice speaking your name over and over like a prayer. "Honey...what's wrong?"

No words found you, only blackness.

The doctor was summoned quicker than Billy thought possible, and he thanked the heavens above for the man's swiftness. You insisted he stay with Annie while you were being examined, and he suspected it was for his own sake as well as your daughter's.

Annie was quiet, staring at the door you were behind. It felt ominous in that moment, and he tore his eyes from the sight. His knee was bouncing, heel of his boot tapping the floor over and over. The voices in your room were muffled, and Billy wished he hadn't listened to you.

The sun was setting now, smearing a palette of color across the sky and shadowing the clouds in hues of orange and pink. He ran a tired hand through his hair, weary already from whatever news awaited.

He reached wordlessly for his daughter, and she crawled into his lap, head resting against his chest. Billy didn't know what to say to her, and so he chose silence. He was grateful for her old-soul tendencies, but also wished she was still naive enough that she was oblivious. More than anything he wanted Annie to be able to be a kid, to be able to forget her mother's distress and go out to play.

He wasn't sure what he was expecting. The way you had collapsed so suddenly worried him beyond belief. That was the way it had all started with his mother. And now she was no more than a shadow, a memory haunting him.

When the door opened, he shooed those thoughts from his mind, standing and lifting Annie to sit on his hip. The doctor appeared, bag in hand, expression grim. He nodded once at Billy, gesturing to the room. "We'll talk in a minute."

Billy offered half a nod before rushing in to you, Annie in his arms. The sight of you nearly stopped him in his tracks. Paler than a ghost, nearly the color of the sheets you laid atop.

When you noticed them, a sweet smile brightened your face, and you reached out, beckoning. "Annie."

He set his daughter down, and she ran to you, burying her face in your chest. You hugged her tight, kissing the top of her head. "Sweet girl. Are you okay?"

Annie mumbled something Billy couldn't make out. He was still, like a statue caught in time's grip.

Nothing was going to be the same. He had that thought over and over in the next few weeks.

It was a symphony of the same scenes over and over again. Your illness took hold of you, settled into your bones and became all that had been you. That version of you was replaced with a feverish imposter, weaker than a newborn foal. You still laughed often, but it was a dull, raspy sound that panged at Billy's heart.

He clung to hope that somehow you would pull out of it. That by the grace of a miracle one day he would wake up, and you'd be looking back at him, saying you felt better.

The opposite persisted. Every time you awoke in the throes of a fever, tossing and turning until he wound his arms around you, he felt you slipping away. It pounded at his chest, an awful realization he ignored in the hopes that it would prove wrong. He shut it out, hiding his face in your hair, holding on tight and wishing, praying, pleading.

You seemed oblivious to it, though you were feeble and listless most days. Still, you smiled, hugged your daughter, kissed him. You were bedridden, but still your spirits were high as the heavens. Even now, as you read quietly beside him, thumbing through the little book with the red cover you so adored, he swore he saw glimpses of you before the sickness that had eaten away at your being.

Billy was absentmindedly stroking your side, lost in thought. He kissed your temple. "Why don'tcha rest for a bit, sweetheart? You can read more when you're better."

He reached his hand out for the book, and you waited a moment before handing it over, letting him set it on your nightstand beside the vase of dried flowers, petals withering away. They had been a gift from Annie, picked in the field not too far from the oak tree.

You settled limply against his chest, fingers rubbing up and down his stomach softly. Your quiet spoke magnitudes, things Billy wasn't sure he was ready to hear.

"I'm not going to get better," you whispered, though the quiet did nothing to dull the sting your words ensued. He felt a tide of panic begin to crash, and immediately ran the other way.

"Shh, don't say that," he murmured, squeezing your shoulder. "You'll be better in no time. Just needa rest, baby."

"Billy-" you sat up, lifting your head from his chest. He tried to pull you back down, but you shook your head. "We need to talk about this."

"No. No." Billy looked away, dread crawling over his insides. He felt as though he were in the middle of an ocean, waiting for it to swallow him up. "You have to get better. I need you-"

"You're going to be okay," you promised, taking his face in your hands and turning it back to you. "It's gonna be okay."

He was struggling for air. "It can't...I can't...how am I supposed to do a damn thing without you? I can't..." Tears were pricking at his eyes, threatening to spill over. "Baby..."

"I need you to be there for Annie. She'll have questions," you murmured, making sure he was looking at you. "She's gonna need you."

"I need you," he whispered, arms tightening around you. "I can't do this without you. I can't raise her. I-" Billy swallowed thickly. "I can't live without you."

"You still have me," you said softly, and he could see tears in your own eyes now. "You have Annie. She is me. She's got all the good parts of both of us, none of the bad."

"There were never any bad parts of you," Billy breathed, and you took in a breath, smiling in a bittersweet way.

"Promise me you'll be there for her," you said, voice firm despite your gentle hold. "Please."

"I promise," he managed, biting the side of his cheek. "Baby-" An unborn cry cut him off, and he looked down, squeezing his eyes shut. Everything he'd tried to avoid had him pinned down now, shaking his shoulders and screaming at him to wake up.

You took in a breath, pulling him closer, down so his head was on your chest. He clung to you, feeling like a child. Your fingers stroked his hair, delicately roving through his curls in an attempt to soothe. Billy only let himself cry then, tears soaking the front of your nightdress. You breathed, "Oh, Billy," and he fisted your bodice, trying not to imagine what things would be like if you were no longer here.

When you were no longer here.

He wasn't ready. How can anybody ever be ready?

Grief hunted him down, made him miss you before he was gone. It stripped the skin from his bones, buried itself into his being and filled the spot where you were. He couldn't remember how it had felt before.

You were slipping away too quickly, and he was grasping for you, milking every second he was allowed. This was a familiar notion- he'd known it before, so he'd thought. But it was different now. You were a new love, one he'd embraced wholeheartedly. He'd given up everything to be with you and done it gladly. You were the center of the life he'd built so far from the land of outlaws and wanted posters. You were epitome of everything good and pure in the world.

Had his sins truly been so unforgivable that you were now being taken from him? Was he so far from absolvable? Billy had repented with every second since he'd met you, knowing that men who kept doing bad things didn't get to keep women like you. It had all been for naught now, because you were turning into memory.

"Give Daddy extra love, okay?" you whispered to Annie, holding her in a tight hug despite your growing weakness. "He's gonna be sad for a while. Can you give him love for me?"

Annie nodded, and you kissed her forehead, squeezing her to your side one last time. You said one last soft thing to her, and she nodded, leaving your side and shutting the door behind her when she went into the other room.

When she was gone, you gave him a tired smile, one that told him everything he needed to know. Billy crawled in beside you, pulling you to lean against his chest. He felt tears wet his shirt, unsure if they were yours or his.

"I don't want to die," you whispered, the pain in your voice making him want to sink into the earth.

Billy squeezed you, tears raining into your hair. "I know. I know, angel."

"I don't want to leave you." Your hand found his, winding fingers together and clenching.

He felt the lonely rise of grief's dull ache seize him again. "I know, angel." Billy's lips parted, something he both wanted and didn't want to say lingering between them. It escaped before he could think further. "Just rest. We're...we're gonna be okay. You can sleep now. I'll hold you the whole time."

"Billy-" you were grasping, breathing faint. He could see life draining from you, your body growing heavy.

"Shh," he whispered, tears like rivers down his cheeks. He brushed them aside, sitting up and pulling you into his lap, so your head was resting against his shoulder. He was still in one piece, strong for you as he rocked you steadily, holding you tight. Love...that was what you needed right now. To know you were loved.

He wouldn't fall apart yet. Not when you were still here for now, clinging to him and holding on for every moment you could squeeze out. Billy leaned down and kissed you tenderly, trying to convey every bit of what had always been yours. His heart. "I love you."

Your body relaxed, and sunbeams spotlit the floor through the windows. He could hear birds outside, singing their merry tunes. It was the birth of summer, the sister of spring. Your essence alone existed in these few months, and it would echo at him for the rest of his days.

Billy held you close as your expression grew peaceful. The veil separating life and death was thin, and you were answering its call. He whispered over and over like a mantra. "I love you. I love you. I love you."

Your body went still.

And now he fell apart.

#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #billy the kid fanfiction #billy the kid x you #william h bonney x reader #billy the kid 2022 #william h bonney fanfiction #william h bonney x you #billy bonney #billy the kid imagine #billy the kid fic #billy the kid fluff #tom blyth x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney imagine #william bonney #tom blyth #milliesfishes billy

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samantha-and-nellie · 1 month ago

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meet samantha // “alewife” by clairo // samantha: an american girl holiday // “smoke signals” by phoebe bridgers // samantha learns a lesson // “we’ll never have sex” by leith ross // samantha learns a lesson // “ceilings” by lizzy mcalpine // samantha’s winter party // “the birds are singing at night” by lord huron // samantha: an american girl holiday // “hailey” by wrenn // samantha: an american girl holiday // “little bit better” by caleb hearn and rosie // samantha: an american girl holiday // “evermore” by taylor swift // changes for samantha // “state lines” by novo amor // samantha’s valentine crafts // “don’t take the money” by bleachers

samantha's pov

#nellie o'malley #web weaving #samantha parkington #american girl #agblr #ag #american girl doll #from my slate #samantha: an american girl holiday #illustrations

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jean-vi · 7 months ago

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The Volunteer | Jean x Reader

Pairing: Jean Kirstein x Marley!Reader Inspiration: “No, I’m not afraid to disappear” - I Know The End by Phoebe Bridgers Summary: this choice will have consequences. Genre: Rivals (?) to Lovers, One Bed Trope, Angst, Fluff? Warnings: Implied Major Character Death, SPOILERS S4, Non-canon storyline and timeline, map inaccuracies. WC: 6.3k A/N: DARLINGGG GUESS WHO’S BACK FROM JAIL?! Other: Masterlist

Paradis was peace. It was a place where you could be yourself and feel less afraid than before, which was saying a lot considering your drenched skirts. The man before you was nothing more than a rowdy customer who was already rosy with drink despite the early hour. You had taken the early shift this day so that you could explore Paradis without getting the you missed your shift again talk. Honestly, the people in Paradis were nothing like the ones back at home. They were nicer, even when they were leering in your face with slurred words. You were just glad you were alive.

“Miss, miss, please, oh please can I have another–” the man groaned and you delightfully plucked the drink from his hands. It was like stealing candy from a baby.

“Sir, I think you’ve had just about enough for today,” you chirped happily. The man seemed disgruntled but easily seemed to forget his rage as a buddy slung an arm around him. Soon enough, a merriment filled the air.

“Not even noon yet,” Mrs. Wasatch sighed pleasantly as she bustled through and started clearing tables. You jumped in as well, eager to get your duties over with for the day. Mrs. Wasatch was a squat woman with full hips and a wide rib cage. Her dark hair was curled quite fashionably into a bun, the strands falling just right. Mrs. Wasatch helped run the bar and while she had been skeptical of you, Mr. Wasatch was an avid supporter of Eldian refugees from Marley.

“You know they never settle, dear,” Mr. Wasatch bustled through the kitchen door and into the dusty bar. The man always wore the same pitch black work boots and broken spectacles. You had offered to get the cracked glass replaced, but the barkeep had refused.

“I’m surprised we don’t hear more complaints from the neighbors,” Mrs. Wasatch laughed and you couldn’t help cracking a smile. You swiped at the stains on the tables and kept your eye on the door. If that pesky watch guard of yours showed up, it would be over. Your day of fun would be canceled and you’d be escorted straight back to the camps.

“Hun, you must be just itching to go out and enjoy the sun,” Mrs. Wasatch said with a warm smile, “the day is clear, not a cloud in the sky. When I was your age, all I wanted to do was go outside. Of course, the walls mattered a lot more then, so there was never truly any freedom.”

“That must have been awful, Mrs. Wasatch,” you hummed, your mind wandering.

“It sure was, darling. Probably nothing worse than your situation though.”

It was only then that you noticed she’d stopped wiping the tables down and instead was staring intently at you. You hated the pity in her eyes. You’d much prefer the anger of the protesters to this. She reached out and touched your arm, which forced you to keep a pleasant smile on your face. Her touch burned, just like the hands that had touched you before. Everything was always too hot and you felt like you were going to melt. You needed air. You needed to get outside now.

“If you ever want to talk about your experience, please, never hesitate to come to me, darling,” Mrs. Wasatch said softly. Then, she dropped her hand, her smile fading as she followed your eyes to the windows, “you may go.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You rushed to the backroom and took off your apron. Then you hurriedly let down your hair and haphazardly combed your fingers through the strands. You breezed past Mr. and Mrs. Wasatch, giving them thankful smiles.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” You called cheerfully as you left the building. You peered carefully around the corner. A sigh of relief. No one was in sight, which meant you were free to explore beyond the walls without a soldier breathing down your back.

“I can trust you’ll be staying inside Wall Rose?”

Dammit. You froze and plastered a wide smile on your face as you turned towards the all too familiar voice. The man kicked off the wall, shaking out his light brown hair.

“Jean!” You greeted pleasantly, “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“You and I both know that’s untrue.” Jean raised an eyebrow and took a hand out of his pockets to grip your shoulder, “don’t even think of running.”

“Of course, I wasn’t planning on going outside the walls,” you said with gritted teeth. He didn’t seem convinced, which wasn’t surprising. He rubbed his chin and looked at you intently.

“Well, if you need to do errands, I would be happy to join you.”

You let your smile drop a little and shrugged off his hand. Not every Marley volunteer had a personal guard to watch them, but not every Marleyan volunteer had escaped into the wilderness three times. Now, it wasn’t out of feeling like a prisoner, that you kept leaving, it was more so out of curiosity. This supposedly dangerous island was probably the best thing that had happened to you.

“That’s so kind of you, but there’s no need, Jean.”

“I insist.”

“No I insist.”

“I’ll drop the subject if you tell me where you plan to go.”

“The market, of course,” you lied.

“That’s so funny, I didn’t know there was a market called ‘outside Wall Maria’!”

You shot him a frustrated look and he seemed vaguely amused. He then crossed his arms and sighed.

“Look, I know you’re interested in what’s outside Wall Maria. I think anyone in the Scouts understands that feeling. It’s safer than before, but somehow the Scouts managed to find you in the restricted areas more than once, so there’s no way we can trust you. I’m sorry, but rules are rules now.”

“That’s big coming from the faction that overthrew the government.” You smiled, but for some reason a darkness filled his eyes. In fact, the look was somewhat saddened or perhaps nostalgic. The afternoon sun was high and bright, falling over his furrowed brows in a delicate shape. His features were accentuated, the shape of his jaw and the way his nose sloped were illuminated in gold.

“Well, I’m going to have to follow you either way.”

“Romantic. I like that,” you teased, if only to lighten his mood. Jean had this way about him where he’d go from joyful to serious in a blink of an eye. You’d overheard a few of the other scouts say that he’s been a changed man since learning of the outside world. You looked up, breathing in the chirping birds and the wind that whistled through the buildings. You couldn’t imagine living trapped in the walls, in a constant state of fear.

So perhaps now you had begun to feel ashamed, for what you had been taught in Marley. Marley. You turned on your heel and made for the gate out of the wall. The sting of betrayal was still fresh. Your mother’s face, her dreadful face, flashed through your mind.

Shaking your head, you waved to the guards, who had seen you pass through enough to know your name, and stepped into the unknown. Well, it wasn’t really the unknown. First, it was a series of Marleyan Volunteer camps and then beyond a rickety wooden fence was familiar territory. You wanted to explore beyond that today. Sadly, Jean just had to catch on to your antics.

“It’s so funny, Jean, how these old fences keep Marleyan soldiers tame.” You kicked a log and Jean raised an eyebrow.

“They understand that they’re not meant to stay here forever, but it looks like someone didn’t get the memo,” he grumbled.

“Well, I can’t imagine this old thing keeping me back,” you chuckled.

The man sighed and stepped in front of you. Sometimes it was easy to forget that Jean wasn’t just the little angel singing on your shoulder and was instead a breathing human. He took up space in this world. Did you? It was a question you sought to answer on your adventures. You hiked up mountains, felt the cool air hit your face, and climbed trees. You’d danced in open fields and pressed flowers into a notebook. How could anyone take that away from you?

“It’s for your safety. Not just from what’s out there, but also for the people who may not be as happy to see a Marley soldier.” His eyebrows furrowed and while you did admit he had handsome features, they certainly weren’t aided by the saddened look on his face. You wanted to take a wipe to it and bring back joking Jean–the one that would allow you to go out.

“Come on, just a little exploration? Just a little?” You smiled and pushed him playfully. He groaned.

“You’re never going to let up, are you?”

“I was never one to back down on my word,” You gave a mock salute and Jean just rolled his eyes. He ran a hand through his pretty brown locks and then stepped aside.

“Fine. I’ll go with you, but only to the wall. If I get in trouble for this, you take the fall,” he eyed you apprehensively, but you couldn’t help seeing a small glimmer in his eyes, “and remember, I’m only doing this so I can keep an eye on you.”

“Aw, Jean, I thought we were friends,” you laughed and took his arm as he begrudgingly went and got his horse. You went to untie another, but he made a noise of disapproval. You looked up and he was shaking his head.

“Like hell am I letting you ride your own horse,” he patted the space behind him, “you’re riding over here.”

You frowned, “I won’t run away, I promise.”

“I’d feel a lot better if you just rode with me,” he said and you sighed, walking over. Hopping onto the horse, his hand instinctively went back to grip your thigh for a moment. You bit your lip, but didn’t say anything, “hold on,” he said lowly.

And then you were off. You held onto his shoulders at first, but gradually let your arms wrap around his waist as you took off into the open fields outside. It was so wonderful. The fresh air and the breeze. The sun. The landscape was gorgeous in the afternoon as the golden rays of light illuminated the grass.

“It’s so pretty!” You shouted over the wind and he glanced back.

“What?” He called back. You just laughed. You passed a few villages of people slowly rebuilding since the Scouts retook Wall Maria. You didn’t know how long it would take to reach the wall itself. Then you felt Jean tense under your grip and you looked up. A forest of tall trees. You’d seen it from a distance, but all the times you’d gone on foot it just wasn’t really possible to get there. You’d thought of stealing a horse before, but it wasn’t feasible. Too many soldiers around.

“What’s wrong?” You shouted, and this time he heard you.

“It’s nothing. Just old memories,” he muttered and it seemed to be mostly to himself, but you still caught some of it. You were quiet at his statement. Old memories. You could understand his tenseness now. You shook off your own ghosts.

“You’ve been to the forest before? I’ve always been interested,” you tried to prod a bit more, but didn’t want to push it. He didn’t respond for a long time and then shrugged.

“Yeah, I’ve been a lot more than I would have liked.” The horse had slowed to a light walk now and you loosened your grip. You opened your mouth to say more, but he interrupted the silence.

“It’s getting late. We won’t make it to the wall. Let’s go to a nearby town and find a place to stay for the night. We’ll get to the wall tomorrow,” Jean cleared his throat as he spoke and you sighed as he slowed to a halt. You looked up. The sky was indeed becoming a dusky orange and pink.

“Let’s go then,” you said and he was quiet, just turning the horse back towards the last village you had seen.

As you rode along the fields, you leaned closer to Jean, “tell me more about yourself, mister,” you teased and he seemed to lighten up a bit.

“Well, I’m not sure there’s much to say. I think others would call me a leader of sorts.”

“More than your suicidal maniac friend?”

Jean’s lips lifted into a grin, “I haven’t heard that name in a while,” he then shrugged a little, “I guess. He’s a different kind of person than I am now,” he glanced back at you, “tell me more about yourself, miss. Like how did you end up as a Marley soldier?”

You paused at his question and you knew he picked up on your hesitation. You tried to cover it up. You laughed a little, “you already know a bunch about me, Jean. I never stop talking, after all.”

He scratched his chin at that as you entered the village. There was still a lively murmur in the air as vendors were packing up their stalls and kids were being ushered back home. Jean found a barn where other horses were being kept and you both hopped off.

“Not often we get newcomers,” said the man who took your horse. He had on a wide-brimmed hat and he had this long, white, beard, which he stroked thoughtfully.

“Just staying for the night,” Jean said politely, “is there an inn?”

The man hummed to himself for a moment, scratching his chin, “don’t think so.”

“Oh, well, then we’ll head to the next town over–” Jean started, shooting you an apologetic smile. You were just watching the whole interaction with much amusement. It was clear that the man knew who Jean was and was more than happy to have such an important member of the Scouts in town.

“Wait, wait, you can just stay with my wife and I! We’ve got a spare room that you and the missus can use,” the man smiled, “and we’ve got two kiddos, but they’re no trouble at all.”

Jean raised an eyebrow, “oh, no, we’re not–”

“We would love that, sir,” you grinned, interrupting Jean and taking a hold on his arm. Jean seem unamused, but he didn’t contest it as you dragged him along, following the man back to his home.

“I’m Peter,” the man introduced as you approached a cozy looking home. The house was a little on the outskirts of the town and had two stories. A yellow candle flickered in the windowsill and you could see two children running around in the dining room.

“I’m home! I’ve brought two guests with me, just for the night,” Peter announced as he opened the door. His wife was pretty. She had long brown hair and blue eyes. An apron was tied around her waist as she bustled around the kitchen preparing dinner.

“Ah, how wonderful!” She smiled happily and you looked over a Jean. For some reason, he had a forlorn expression on his face, which he easily hid when he noticed you looking.

“This is my wife, Greta,” Peter said, giving her a kiss on the cheek and taking a few bowls from the cupboards, “come, come, sit, eat.”

You introduced yourself and Jean, which they smiled at. Then you sat down, at the behest of Greta.

“How did you two stumble upon this here town?” Greta asked as she began to serve dinner. She ladled big portions of hearty potato soup into the bowls and served you and Jean, then her children, and then herself and Peter. Their children were cute. You estimated them to be about nine and ten.

“We’re traveling to Wall–” you began and Jean cleared his throat.

“My girlfriend wanted to see the forest of giant trees, since it used to be a big tourist destination,” Jean explained easily and you just followed his lead. You knew he was stressed about people finding out you were Marleyan–even if you were Eldian by blood. People had weird ways of drawing lines.

“That’s so sweet, but you be careful out there–although you probably don’t need me to tell you that,” Peter coughed, glancing at Jean’s uniform. You smiled and chuckled, nudging Jean to do the same.

“Do you have your swords with you?” One of the kids piped up excitedly.

“Yeah! Yeah! Can you show us how to slay titans too?” the other shouted.

“Settle down boys, settle down,” Peter said gruffly and Greta shook her head.

“I apologize for them, they’ve never seen a soldier in person before,” Greta smiled sheepishly and Jean scratched the back of his neck.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” he said. He reached out and ruffled one kid’s hair, “I don’t have my gear on me right now, but I’ll tell you what, I’ll come back soon and show you, okay?”

This was met with a chorus of okays. You raised your eyebrow at Jean, but he only met your eyes for one moment. You weren’t sure if he was lying or not, if he’d have time and actually remember. Then he gave a small shrug. Peter and Greta seemed pleased by Jean’s offer and you supposed it was a small price to pay for the graciousness of them sharing their home.

“Our town just got some premium wine the other day, you should share some with us,” Peter offered, standing to grab a bottle from the kitchen counter, “just a little glass to end the night?”

You were about to accept–you weren’t one to refuse a drink, but Jean intervened. It was unexpected, but he cleared his throat, “actually, we’ve sort of sworn off drinking for now,” he said, feigning sadness. You shot him a confused look, but hid it well as Peter shrugged.

“More for me then,” Peter laughed and Greta rolled her eyes. She cleared the table and started ushering the children to bed as Peter got up, “let me show you to your room.”

Up the stairs, you and Jean followed Peter. The narrow staircase led to a hallway with three doors. Peter opened the first door on the left. You and Jean peered inside.

“It’s not much, but it’s homey,” Peter said with a firm nod. You gave him a small smile.

“It’s perfect, thank you, sir,” Jean dipped his head and Peter shot you both a knowing gaze before slipping away to kiss his kids goodnight.

Now alone, you got to thoroughly inspect the room. There weren’t any glaring problems with the room except for, well, except for the bed. You saw Jean grimace as he stepped in fully and you nudged him.

“Hey, you don’t have to look so upset about sharing a bed with me,” you yawned, going to take a seat on the edge. You looked up at him and he rolled his eyes.

“It’s your fault we’re in this mess,” he said, pinching his nose bridge. Then he rubbed his temple, thinking, “I’ll take the floor,” he finally concluded. You stood and walked over to him. You flicked his forehead, making him look at you with surprise.

“Took you long enough to come to that conclusion,” you scoffed, “but I don’t think it’s necessary. I’ll just scoot over and it’ll be no problem,” you gestured to the bed. He gave you a funny look and sighed.

“It’s unprofessional. I can’t.”

“And I say you can,” you gave him a disapproving look, “you’re acting like it’ll be the end of the world.”

His ears went red and he looked away, “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Maybe not, but the Scouts have had worse ideas, don’tcha think?” You grinned fiendishly and while he initially seemed unamused, you did catch a crack of a smile. Jean was so serious, for as long as you knew him, but you’d heard he’d been quite childish once. Maybe it was before all this Marley and Paradis thing started. Well, really it had gone on for centuries, but it was a relatively new part of Jean’s life.

It had gotten dark and you went over to the window to light the oil lamp. You had slowly been getting used to the ways of Paradis, but you weren’t completely familiar. You hadn’t grown up here and learning to ride a horse had taken a bit of time. Jean watched you fiddle with the lamp and he went to sit on the bed. He wasn’t putting up any more complaints, so that was nice. Truly, you were suggesting you share the bed because you felt bad for dragging him all this way.

There was a long silence as you lit the lamp, basking the room in a warm glow. You glanced over at him, his profile. A sharp jaw and stubble complementing brown hair.

“Hey,” you called softly, “I can take the floor if you’re really uncomfortable with it.” You walked over to him, lamp in hand, “I’m sorry I dragged you all this way, Jean. I just wanted to have some fun.”

He didn’t respond for a long time. Then his eyes slid over to you and he let out a deep breath. You set the lamp down on the nightstand and waited for him to speak.

“No, no, it’s fine,” he said as he unlaced his boots and tucked them under the bed. You did the same on the other side and then you both lay on top of the covers like two sticks. He was tense and you were being careful to keep the room. You shut your eyes, but you couldn’t sleep with him just laying there, stock-still, next to you. Finally, he broke the silence.

“You’re so tense.” There was a teasing lilt to his voice and when you turned your head, opening your eyes, he was staring at you. A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“Can’t sleep,” you mumbled, turning back to look at the ceiling.

“And?”

You eyed him and rolled onto your side to look at him. He mirrored you.

“I don’t know, Jean. Maybe you should bore me to sleep, as per usual,” you huffed.

You could tell he wanted to rebuff you, but he just shook his head with exasperation, “fine. I’ll humor you.” He hummed to himself for a moment, thinking, “I’m going to quit drinking.”

You raised an eyebrow, “I said boring, Jean,” you then smiled a little, “so you weren’t lying earlier.”

He shook his head, “I just think it’s been something I’ve used as a crutch for a while now, but I should really get out of the habit. Too many things happening lately, I need to have a clear head.”

You nodded at his words. He was right. God damnit, Jean Kirstein was right. There was another silence and you averted your eyes, tracing the pattern on the wallpaper behind him with your eyes.

“You never really told me how you got in this position,” he said and your eyes flicked back to his. His words made your heart clench uneasily.

“I don’t know what you mean,” you muttered.

“Yes, you do. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s just your past, but I doubt it will change what I think of you.”

You fixed him with a hard stare for once and he didn’t back down. You let out a breath and rolled onto your back. Your past felt so far away on Paradis, but it wasn’t so long ago that it all happened. You closed your eyes for a moment and then began your story.

“My family has been Eldian in Marley for generations now. We were always good Eldians. We never stepped out of line, never talked back. I have a brother and a sister, but they’re a lot younger than me,” you smiled a bit at the thought of them.

“You’ve never mentioned them.” Jean said quietly.

“Didn’t think it was important,” you shrugged. More like you didn’t want to let anyone know any intimate part of yourself, because that would mean they could hurt you. You’d already been hurt enough. “I was my mother’s favorite. My father was busy trying to support us financially.”

You rolled over to look at Jean. To your surprise, he was listening quite intensely, his eyebrows furrowed together. Maybe he could tell that for once you were being truly sincere, that you were telling the whole truth.

“The signs were there, but I didn’t want to believe them. My mother started disappearing at night, when she thought no one would notice. But she was my mom, so I always noticed,” you sat up a bit, pulling your knees to your chest. For some reason, recounting your history out loud seemed to bring out this vulnerable side of you, the side that wanted nothing but comfort and love. You didn’t like that. You wanted to be unshakable.

You cleared your throat, “and, well, she betrayed us. She joined the rebellion, but she got caught, of course. They threatened to kill our whole family, but I volunteered to join the military instead. And for penance, my siblings will need to join when they are of age as well,” you bit your lip. You couldn’t believe you’d left them. You wondered if they were still alive.

“I felt ashamed. I still love my mother, but I hate her for what she did to our family. And then I think I just hate Marley for making things work this way,” you mumbled, burying your face in your knees.

Things were quiet, but you felt Jean’s eyes on you. And then you felt his hand on your back, “you have every right to feel this way. I hope you can find peace knowing you did the right thing for your family.”

You let out a mixture of a laugh and a sigh, “I don’t know if I did. I don’t know if dooming my siblings to a life of serving in the military is any better. I’m just prolonging their death sentence. It’s selfish of me to want to have fun and explore on Paradis while they suffer at home.”

Jean nodded a little and pulled your form against his body, enveloping you in his warmth, “You want to know a little secret?” He asked. You nodded silently against his chest, “It’s my job to stop you from wandering off, but secretly I admire you. And I feel encouraged by your energy. It reminds me of all the hopeful Scouts who dared to go beyond the walls in search of freedom. I wish I was still like you. Sometimes, I’m scared to let people in because people in my life seem to die whenever I do.”

“You are, Jean, oh gods, you are just like me,” you laughed a little and looked up at him. It felt right to be in his arms, “I can see it in you, sometimes. It’s a flash, but I still see some of the horseface boy that they used to talk about.”

His cheeks grew red, “hey, how do you know about that?” he stammered.

“I have my ways.”

You felt your eyelids growing heavy, “Hey, Jean,” you mumbled, “you’re a really good guy. I hope you know that.”

He was quiet as you drifted off to sleep. You heard him reply, but you didn’t register his words at all.

The next morning, he was gone. You awoke, bewildered. There was an indent in the shape of him next to you, but you were holding onto nothing. You stumbled out of bed, pulling on your shoes and combing your hands through your hair.

“Jean?” You called, testing the waters to see if he was just in the bathroom or something. But no, you didn’t see him or hear him. You cursed under your breath and hurried downstairs. Greta was bustling around the kitchen, preparing breakfast. It smelled delicious, but you didn’t have time to think. You raced to the front door.

“Oh, honey, he just left. He said he’d send someone for you, but he needed to leave urgently,” Greta said, but even she seemed to know it was a lie. She gave you a knowingly sad look. You just took deep breaths, chest heaving up and down. It was all reminding you of your mother leaving, your back against the wall as everyone gave you pitying looks.

“No, no, he wouldn’t.” you whispered, “no, he was–” you stopped yourself, swallowing, “he was going to take me to the forest of giant trees.”

Greta nodded sympathetically, ushering you to sit, “it’s okay dear, these things happen. I’m sure he’ll explain it to you later,” she said reassuringly. She plated you some breakfast, but you politely declined.

“Sorry, I just need a moment to think,” you said, out of breath. You felt like you couldn’t breathe properly. It was like the world was closing in. Why did he leave you so suddenly? Was it because you finally opened up? Because he was scared of holding you? Maybe there was something fundamentally and irrevocably wrong with you that caused everyone to leave.

“I’ll give you a moment,” Greta murmured softly, swiping her hands on her apron and heading upstairs.

The second she left the room, you knew you needed to leave. But how? You stood. You needed to steal one of their horses. You clenched and unclenched your fingers, pacing. Think, think, think. You grabbed the wine from last night and took a swig for encouragement. Then you set it down, wiping your mouth.

“Sorry,” you squeaked quietly upstairs. Then you bolted out the door and towards where they kept the horses. Indeed, Jean’s horse was gone. There were two more in the barn and you managed to soothe one enough to let you ride it. You were off not a moment later. You needed Jean to do some real explaining and you were going to kick his ass.

But when you got back, they’d assigned you a different guard. Jean was nowhere to be found and you were losing hope of seeing him again. You didn’t know what you’d done to make him so upset, but you wished you knew.

After some time had passed, you barely left the bar where you served customers. Mr. and Mrs. Wasatch were growing concerned as your adventurous spirit had dwindled. It made the new guard’s job a lot easier. You just wanted to see Jean again. For the first time in a while, someone had finally made you feel comfortable, and now he had the audacity to rip it away from you?

One day, the bar was closing and you were clearing off tables. Mrs. Wasatch was counting the register and Mr. Wasatch was shooing out the stragglers. Then the bell rung, signaling another customer.

“We’re closed,” Mrs. Wasatch began, not looking up. But you looked up and saw a swatch of familiar blonde hair.

“Niccolo!” You called with a grin. Both Mr. and Mrs. Wasatch looked up. Seeing that you seemed to know the man, they gave a nod of approval. Niccolo stepped in, his usually happy expression shifted to something more serious. You sensed the changed in his attitude and waved him over to you.

“It’s been a while, how have you been?” you greeted pleasantly, but Niccolo looked pale, nervous.

“Is there somewhere we can talk privately?” Niccolo muttered and you looked behind him at the Wasatches. You then nodded and pulled him into the backroom.

“What’s up?” you asked, concern knitting your eyebrows together, “is everything alright, Niccolo? You look…scared.” you reached out, gently steadying him with a hand. He returned the favor, but his grip was deathly tight on your arm.

“Have you had any wine?” He inquired quietly, but urgently.

You stayed quiet, trying to remember. Then you remembered that morning. The moring after Jean left you. You just averted your eyes as you got the sense this wasn’t the answer he wanted. He could tell. He inhaled sharply and looked at your face.

“You need to get out of here. Now.” He ordered, his face growing paler by the minute.

“Hold on, Niccolo, tell me what this is all about,” you implored him, now slightly panicked as well.

“The wine. It has Zeke’s spinal fluid in it. He wants to turn everyone into goddamn titans when he returns to start the rumbling,” Niccolo hissed and you felt the color drain from your face. Now you could understand what his panic was about. Shit. Shit. Shit. Your eyes must have been wide because Niccolo shook you slightly.

“There’s still time to leave.”

“I can’t.”

“What?”

“I can’t leave. I still have things to finish up here,” You repeated.

“Like what? Talking to that guard? Yeah, everyone knows about you and your guard,” he scoffed, “come on, he hasn’t tried to reach out to you–”

“He’s just scared,” you bit back fiercely, “he’s just scared of commitment. He’ll come back.”

Niccolo’s gaze dropped and he deflated, “I can’t stop you. Just know it’s not the right choice.”

But maybe Jean was always the right choice.

He didn’t show. He didn’t show when the wine poisoning had been revealed. He didn’t show when you got your armband. You felt like you were being branded again. You just stared. Mr. and Mrs. Wasatch had given you time off as you waited around for the inevitability of your demise. It was a pointless existence. And so you were determined to find Jean.

Early one morning, you packed your things and left, bidding a quiet goodbye to the lovely couple who had taken you in. They had, by some miracle, not had a single drop of the wine.

It took you a while to find Jean and when you did, you didn’t know what to do with yourself. You couldn’t just confront him. It didn’t feel right. And suddenly you felt foolish for following him still. But he was right there. He was standing, talking to his friends, laughing.

You watched for a moment, then you slinked off, finding an inn to stay in for the next few nights. You knew tensions were rising, you just didn’t know what they would end up amounting to. The volunteers were never told much, not even as much as the citizens. The citizens barely knew anything either. You just knew some were behind Eren Jaeger and others weren’t. You were on Jean’s side though.

It took another day until you found Jean again. This time, he was alone. It was getting late at night and you were following him, being indecisive of whether to approach him or not. You kept your eyes on the ground, thinking, as you walked. And then you looked up, the cloak around your shoulders swaying a little .

Dammit. You lost him. And then you felt a breath near your ear and his presence behind you.

“Why are you following me?” he said lowly.

You turned and his expression softened. He stepped back, “why are you here?” he asked quietly, “how?”

You had so much you wanted to say. So much. But the first stupid thing that fell out of your lips was, “you left me.” and it sounded like a kid crying out for their mother. His eyebrows furrowed and he pulled you close to him, but you pushed him back.

“Why did you leave me?” You demanded, your voice hushed fury.

Jean stared at you for a moment and then he averted his gaze. He had the decency to look guilty, “honestly, I don’t know. I woke up and I just, I needed to go.”

“You just don’t like me,” you said flatly and he shook his head.

“No, no, it’s not like that at all. I…I think I like you too much. I was scared it would eat me alive and you would leave soon anyway. You have a family back home,” he said softly. You bit your lip.

“I believe you, Jean. I really liked you too,” your hand moved up under your cloak to cover the armband that gave away your poisoned status.

“Liked?” he whispered.

“Yeah.” you turned away.

“Wait, surely you didn’t travel all this way to just tell me that,” he said, reaching out and grasping your cloak. You pulled away harder.

“Maybe I did,” you bit back. You weren’t a violent creature, you didn’t know why you were lashing out at him. The cloak slipped off your shoulders into his hands. You both froze. You both froze because you both saw it at the same time.

You reached up, quickly covering your arm, “hey, you don’t drink, right, Jean?” you asked lightly, barely turning to look back at him. But you saw his drained expression.

“I–”

“Good.” You whispered.

“When did it happen?”

“The morning you left. I took a swig for courage, how else?” you murmured.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s too late, Jean. I think you just need to let this go. I need to let this go.”

“We were never anything at all,” he said, defeat tinging his words.

“Maybe that’s the worst part of all.” You turned fully then and cupped his face in your hands, “don’t dwell on a Marley traitor.”

“How could I not?” he leaned down, but you dodged his kiss.

“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” you sighed.

“Do you want this?” he asked and you hesitated.

“Yes, I do. More than anything. But I–”

And he leaned in again, his lips pressing against yours with a needy passion. The kiss of someone who had no time, but he was stretching it as far as he could. You returned the kiss with equal passion and when you pulled away, out of breath, cheeks rosy, he grinned. It was a smile that quickly slipped away when you stepped back.

“Bye, Jean.”

“Don’t go.”

You clenched your hands, “I’m sorry.”

And then you were gone.

Fin.

#snk #aot #attack on titan #shingeki no kyoujin #jean kirstein #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #aot x reader #snk x reader #angst #fluff #Spoilers: season 4 snk #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #x reader #one bed trope

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graciebrams · 25 days ago

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𓇢𓆸 get to know me

hi I'm ema you can call me em or ems <3 my pronouns are she/her, desi ��˙⋆.˚

✧ i ١٥٧٤ : rose gold, silver jewellery, coffee, books, ribbons, hoop earrings, lipgloss, handwritten letters, choclate, colours pink, brown and sage green, bracelets, cats, ballet flats, sundresses, rings, sunsets, dried out flower petals, collecting old movie tickets, etc ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav artists : gracie abrams, taylor swift, sabrina carpenter, lexi jayde, eileen alister, alessi rose, alix page, maise peters, birdy, the nbhd, chase atlantics, the weeknd, johnny orlando, harry styles, lizzy mcalpine, beabadoobee, girl in red, olivia rodrigo, evanescance, ROLEMODLE, phoebe bridgers, 1D, billie eilish, finneas, lexi caroll, clairo, conan gray, cate, CAS, gracen reign, madison beer, mazzy stars, MARINA, lyn lapid ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ fav shows: gilmore girls, anne with an e, lockwood and co., two broke girls, derry girls, b99, my mad fat diary, opposite sex, YOU, insatiable, the office, the good doctor, dash and lily, the irregulars, my life with the walter boys, the summer i turned pretty, friends, breaking bad, girl meets world, my lady jane, maxton hall, ted lasso, supernatural, gossip girl, the oc, bridgerton, OBX. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav youtubers: carys rachel, ceri jones, heather wotherspoon, ur internet mom ash, luna montana, audrey mika, basicgorl, just sharon, naomi victoria, anna lenks, niki and gabi, sarah betts, emma chamberlain, ahaspoofy, tia gabriella, caitlyn marie, nailea, sadie aldis, grace's room, sturniolo triplets, tara yummy, benoftheweek, larray, madeline argy, sab quesada, cam and fam, kalogera sisters, quen blackwell, alana lintao, sam and colby, melieya, kailpeery, nick wilkins. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

✧ other favs: sophia birlem, sadie sink, cailey spainey, lola tung, chris briney, daisy edgar jones, amybeth mcnulty, lily collins, rowan blanchard, nicola coughlan, emma stone, sarah carpenter, cory foeglmanis, diana silvers, nicholas hoult, caitlyn dever, lauren graham, sarosie ronan, anne hathway, tom holland, zendaya, andrew garfield, laura marano, florence pugh, jenna ortega, cooper koch, harrison osterfield, harry holland, sam holland, paddy holland, tuwaine barett. ᱖　⠀˙⠀　｡

ꪆৎ fav movies: little women (1994 and 2019), the princess diaries (1 and 2), anne of green gables, carrie 1976, roman holiday, sabrina (1954), qala, freaky friday, legally blonde, 13 going on 30, to all the boys, kissing booth, adventures in babysitting, 16 wishes, 16 candles, how to build a better boy, priscilla 2023, the fault in our stars, dirty dancing, love rosie, stuck in love, tolkien, the devil all the time, all spiderman and marvel movies, uncharted,

prev urls : sparksssflytv -> graciebrams

• divider by @issysh3ll

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hollywoodfamerp · 9 months ago

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Pack your bags, Famers! Our annual winter trip is taking place in Ireland! On February 17th, all celebrities will be arriving at the Adare Manor to kick off our trip! Named the #1 resort in Europe in 2023, Adare Manor sits on 840 acres of pristine parkland.

"It’s prestige without pretense and magic without nonsense. Above all, it is the sense of belonging. You are known. You are family. You are home."

UNDER THE CUT, YOU’LL FIND THE LIST OF ROOMMATES!

Unless we got a message from you telling us you wanted to be with a specific person or were not in the ships list - you were included in the generator. If you do not see your FCs name on this list, please message us POLITELY and let us know - sometimes a name gets missed getting put into the generator. We’re human and it happens! At the same time, if your FC is on there twice by any chance then please let us know. Again, mistakes happen. As we accept new applications and people come into the group before AND during the event, this list will be updated. Same will go for if people get unfollowed or ask to leave the group. We posted the pairings in advance so that you may reach out to your roommate and get new interactions going! Even if a mun is on hiatus, be sure to reach out to them so that you can see if you can head-canon some interactions or plan for something when they are off hiatus. All trips are to encourage new interactions and unlikely connections!

PLEASE LIKE THIS NOTICE WHEN YOU HAVE READ IT AND SO THAT YOU CAN KEEP TRACK OF THE LIST UPDATES!

Addison Timlin & Sabrina Carpenter

Akanishi Jin & Lee Sunmi

America Ferrera & Ben Feldman

Andrew Garfield & Elizabeth Lail

Angourie Rice & Chris Evans

Anne Hathaway & Jenna Coleman

Ariana DeBose & Mason Mount

Ashton Irwin & Ariana Grande

Awsten Knight & Miley Cyrus

Bae Joohyun (Irene) & Dove Cameron

Barbara Palvin & Maxence Danet-Fauve

Beyonce Knowles & Chloe Bailey

Brie Larson & Brittany Baker

Callum Turner & Chace Crawford

Camila Morrone & Jessica Chastain

Cari Fletcher & Victoria de Angelis

Carrie Underwood & Gigi Hadid

Cate Blanchett & Ellie Bamber

Cha Eunwoo & Glen Powell

Choi Minho & Kim Ahyoung (Yura)

Choi San & Danielle Campbell

Choi Soobin & Rylee Arnold

Cody Christian & Lucy Hale

Colby Lopez (Seth Rollins) & Rebecca Quin (Becky Lynch)

Danny Amendola & Olivia Culpo

Demi Bennett (Rhea Ripley) & Ashley Fliehr (Charlotte Flair)

Dua Lipa & Joseph Quinn

Emma Stone & Chris Daughtry

Ethan Torchio & Damiano David

Florence Pugh & Cillian Murphy

Gareth Southgate & Byun Baekhyun

Harry Kane & Charlie Hunnam

Harry Styles & Mazz Murray

Hayley Williams & Luke Hemmings

Hwang Hyunjin & Bang Chan

Jackson Wang & Chittaphon Leechaiyapornkul (Ten)

Jamie Campbell Bower & Jonathan Good (Jon Moxley)

Jenna Ortega & Halle Bailey

Joey King & Nick Robinson

Josephine Skriver & Aaron Taylor-Johnson

Jung Yoonoh (Jaehyun) & Lee Taeyong

Kang Seulgi & Jung Wooyoung

Kelsea Ballerini & Joe Keery

Kendall Jenner & Liam Hemsworth

Kim Hongjoong & Diamanté Quiava Valentin Harper (Saweetie)

Kim Jisoo & Christian Yu

Kim Mingyu & Sana Minatozaki

Kit Connor & Gong Jichul (Gong Yoo)

Kylie Jenner & Christina Aguilera

Lauren Jauregui & Bill Skarsgard

Leati Joseph Anoa'i (Roman Reigns) & Rosie Huntington-Whiteley

Lee Felix & Dakota Johnson

Lee Jeno & Na Jaemin

Lee Taemin & Kim Jongin

Leigh-Anne Pinnock & Alycia Debnam-Carey

Lily James & David Tennant

Logan Lerman & Jeon Jungkook

Louis Tomlinson & Phoebe Bridgers

Lucas Wong & Kim Jungwoo

Lupita Nyong'o & Tessa Thompson

Billie Eilish & Ryan Gosling

Madelyn Cline & Chase Stokes

Maika Monroe & Dylan O'Brien

Mark Lee & Lee Donghyuck (Haechan)

Min Yoongi & Kim Namjoon

Niall Horan & Matt Smith

Nicholas Galitzine & Taylor Zakhar Perez

Nick Jonas & Selena Gomez

Nina Dobrev & Sofia Carson

Pamela Martinez (Bayley) & Mercedes Justine Varnado (Sasha Banks)

Park Seonghwa & Lewis Pullman

Pete Davidson & Naomi Scott

Renee Paquette (Renee Young) & Taylor Swift

Renee Rapp & Olivia Cooke

Ross Lynch & Anya Taylor-Joy

Sam Claflin & Riley Keough

Samantha Gibb & Sydney Sweeney

Saoirse Ronan & Jack Lowden

Sarah Paulson & Jessica Lange

Sebastian Stan & Margot Robbie

Tom Hardy & Elizabeth Olsen

Tom Holland & Natalia Dyer

Tony Goldwyn & Megan Jovon Ruth Pete (Megan Thee Stallion)

Travis Kelce & Romee Strijd

Troian Bellisario & Joshua Hong

Vanessa Hudgens & Matthew Macfadyen

Wong Kunhang (Hendery) & Jensen Ackles

Xiao Dejun (Xiaojun) & Yoo Jimin (Karina)

Xu Minghao & Noah Beck

Yoo Bora & Joe Burrow

Yoo Siah (Yooa) & Kim Minjeong (Winter)

Zac Efron & Sophie Turner

Zendaya Coleman & Paul Mescal

Zoey Deutch & Dacre Montgomery

Zoë Kravitz & Lili Reinhart

#hollywoodfameevent #hfrpireland

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st-peculiar · 29 days ago

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I need to talk about The Waystation (podcast) but there’s like. No one on here who’s a fan like at all

I’ve seen NOTHING for this podcast and by god if I have to I will hound my mutuals to listen to it just for my sake I fucking will

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jedimandalorian · 1 year ago

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This is an excerpt from my songfic WIP “I’ll Be Home for Life Day.” I’m writing this for the @sabezra-life-day-celebration which you shippers should follow for updates. 😉

*****

I'll be home for Life Day

You can count on me

Please have snow and mistletoe

And presents by the tree.

Ezra Bridger stood there just staring with his eyes wide and lips parted, momentarily distracted from his work and fascinated by the sight of Hera Syndulla and Kanan Jarrus slow dancing to the familiar tune of “I’ll Be Home for Life Day” in the main hold of the Ghost. Ezra couldn’t stop himself from grinning at this very rare display of public affection between the two of them. Kanan was softly crooning the song’s lyrics right next to Hera’s ear-cones and was looking quite pleased that he brought such a rosy flush to her ordinarily cool green complexion.

Ezra was supposed to be helping Sabine decorate the holiday tree with glow spheres and colorful hand painted ornaments, but the sight of such a tender moment between his captain and his master reminded him of how his parents had danced to that very same song when he was a little boy. The end result was always the same: Ephraim Bridger always steered his wife Mira over to the doorway where the mistletoe was hung so he could steal a kiss from her. From the time little Ezra was old enough to toddle over to them, his father would lift him into his arms and hold him under the mistletoe so that his mother could kiss his cheek and they could both tell him how much he was loved. His mother and father did that every year until he was six.

Ezra closed his eyes and shook his head as if to ward off the painful memories of what happened on his seventh birthday. After that terrible day he had spent every Life Day on his own. There were no more Life Day trees, no more mistletoe kisses, no more presents…

…that is, until last year. Hera’s gift was the first present he had opened. She had bought him a new pair of red pajamas printed with drawings of silly, playful brown Loth-cats. Some fifteen year-old boys would have been embarrassed to wear such childish-looking sleepwear, but Ezra, who had recognized the drawings as Sabine’s own doodles, realized that Hera had them custom made for him. Ezra, who for years had only worn second-hand clothing that he had nicked or salvaged from recycling bins, had new pajamas that had been made just for him. He had launched himself into Hera’s arms, hugging her with a muffled “thanks” as he hid his face in her shoulder so that the others would not see that his eyes were watering.

“Ezra?” Sabine’s voice brought him back into the present moment. “You okay?”

Ezra hastily wiped his eyes. “Yeah. I’m fine. Is this one the last of the glow spheres? I thought we had more of them last year.”

“Here comes Chopper with the rest of them now,” Sabine said as the droid rolled over to them with another big tray of glow globes.

“Come on, we have to finish up before lunchtime. You’re getting your Life Day present early this year.”

“Early?” Ezra asked. Zeb had ambled over to them with the life-star, which he had the honor of placing on the top of the tree, since he was the only one tall enough to reach the top. “Why am I getting my present early?”

“We all chipped in to get you a gift card,” Zeb explained.

“Yep,” Sabine added. “And I’m in charge of your makeover.”

“Sabine’s taking you to the Spiral City Mall this afternoon to help you pick out some new clothes,” Zeb added.

“But—“ Ezra began, as if to protest.

“Make the kid pick out some new basics too,” Zeb said with a grimace. “I don’t think he owns any socks or underwear that aren’t torn or full of holes.”

Chopper’s electronic giggle made Sabine bite her lip, as if she was desperately trying not to laugh.

“Zeb!” Ezra exclaimed angrily. “That’s not true!” His face was red with embarrassment. “And I don’t need Sabine’s help to pick out under—“

“O Holey Drawers!” Zeb sang in synch with the next Life Day carol on the music-player. “Your bum is nearly showing!”

Sabine and Chopper collapsed in a fit of giggles, and Ezra found himself wishing for an air vent so he could crawl into it and not come out until New Year’s Day.

As if sensing how much Ezra wanted them to change the subject, Sabine came to his rescue. “Oh, they are so sweet,” she commented. Ezra, Chopper, and Zeb turned to look in the direction that Sabine had indicated. They all saw that Kanan was stealing a kiss from Hera under the mistletoe.

Ezra watched them with interest. Smooth, he thought. In a quiet moment he had with Kanan several weeks before, he had confessed his crush on Sabine and then asked Kanan how he managed to get Hera to return his feelings.

Kanan had looked thoughtful for a moment, then replied, “Kid, I might be with Hera, but that doesn’t mean I know how I did it.” Ezra shared a good laugh with his master over that. Kanan opened his mouth as if to say more, then stopped himself. Visions of a future that Ezra could not see clouded Kanan’s blind eyes.

After a long silence, Kanan finally said, “If it is the will of the Force, it will happen. And if it’s going to happen it will be when you’re both more mature and ready for it. For now, you should enjoy your friendship with Sabine, and value how close the two of you have become. Just take things slowly with her. Always be a gentleman, and trust the Force.”

Ezra snapped out of his reverie when Zeb punched his arm. “Are you studying his snogging technique for future reference, Lover Boy?” Chopper guffawed at this. Ezra was glad that Sabine was busy putting away the ornament boxes at that moment. He hoped she was out of earshot.

Zeb leaned down and stage-whispered to Ezra, “Let Sabine have her fun with you at the mall. You know how females are about shopping.”

Ezra nodded.

“Who knows? If you play your cards right, she might even let you hold her hand.” Zeb winked.

Chopper burbled something Zeb couldn’t understand.

“What did he say?”

Ezra was reluctant to translate what Chopper said. It was something like, “Ezra had better play his cards right with Sabine or the only hand he’ll be holding is an Idiot’s Array.”

Of course, Chopper probably intended to call Ezra an idiot by saying that, but he didn’t mind. An Idiot’s Array was still a winning hand in sabaac.

*****

So who wants Sabine and Ezra to go on a “mall date”? What sort of shenanigans should they get into?

What do you think of this story so far?

#sabine wren #ezra bridger #star wars #ahsoka series #sabezra #ezrabine #star wars rebels #hera syndulla #kanan jarrus #chopper #zeb orrelios #mira bridger #ephraim bridger #life day #sabezralifeday2023 #kanera

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thesullengrrrl · 2 months ago

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ROBERT ROSENTHAL & ELAINE BYRNE

“Girl from the future,” Rosie softly called as he planted kisses on her shoulder. “Tell me about it.” “What about it?” she answered, shifting herself to face him. Sheets now forgotten, their naked skin against each other. Tracing the line of his arm, Elaine continued. “The technology? Music? Do you wonder if jazz will still be around?” “None of that for now…” he trailed off, gently tracing her jawline. Against the soft light of the afternoon sun, with her hair covering her chest and shoulders, he wanted to take a picture in his head and keep it for rainy days.

"What then?" she asked, her eyes with a hint of curiosity.

“Tell me about our future. You and me.”

Masters of the Air (2024) // The Worst Person In the World (2021) // Sidelines by Phoebe Bridgers // Normal People by Sally Rooney

#oc: elaine byrne #we'll meet again #a web weave attempt!#rosie x elaine

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carpathianspaceprincess · 2 years ago

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To Be A Soldier - (hbo!)Joel Miller x Reader

Summary: In which you have gotten yourselves and your young cargo into quite a dangerous situation. Now you have to decide who can be saved, but you're nearly out of time and Joel is as stubborn as ever. Rating: E. Minors DNI. CW / Tags: Angst. Hurt/Comfort. Desperation. Soft kiss. Non-gendered reader. Detailed description of wounds and several mentions of death and/or bodies. Established relationship. Open ending. Recommended listening: The Day After Tomorrow - Phoebe Bridgers. A/N: HELLO DARLINGS!! dawg idk what this is. It's been in my drafts for at least three weeks while i hummed and haaaaed over it. Realised halfway through that I was subconsciously pulling from my own personal relationship with death and grief, particularly towards the end. (aka I have daddy issues lol) PLEASE interact if you liked it (or hated it!). Also note I hate sad shit LMFAO this is the rare angst for me - there will be more and this is not the end of the story.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

Maria assured you this job would be a breeze. All you had to do was drop off some cargo over the river. “Cargo” being Johanna, a girl of around six, who was to be reunited with her ecstatic parents after several months of Maria trying to locate them. How hard could it be?

The ride up was familiar terrain, and with the promised payment of around 200 cans (two hundred!) sitting safely in a storage unit, you considered the whole thing a win-win. The only con? You’d been forced to leave Ellie at home, a conversation you’d mistakenly left to Joel. You tried to explain that the bridge crossing was safely abandoned, and assured her you’d be back the day after tomorrow, but she wasn’t having it.

“I miss you when you’re gone! You can’t just leave me behind again!”

“It sucks, I know… what if I bring you back something cool to make up for it?”

“Fine, but you better make it good.”

“I will, I promise.”

Having smoothed things over, you’d started out optimistic; Joel allowing the brush of your hand against his own as you passed folks shoveling snow and raking leaves, cheeks rosy as summer faded and made way for the fresh, icy winter air. You delighted at Joel’s unexpected patience and humor for Johanna, and as the three of you rode, your laughter hung between the dense firs like streamers.

Then a FEDRA unit caught your unsuspecting trio by surprise up near the river bank, a mere two hours after setting out. Things had spun out of control quickly, and in the scuffle to escape Johanna had suffered a fall. You’d found the only cover you could in this shithole of a shepherd’s shack, fending off gunfire while you and Joel tried to figure out how you’d get back to Jackson with no horses and dwindling ammo. In your effort to push the little girl under a solid table for cover, you’d been careless and exposed yourself to the aim of one remaining officer.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

“Fuck!” You stumble, back thudding against rotting wooden panels. “Fuck i’m stupid. fuck. fuck. fuck!”

“Shit.” Joel kneels over you, wild eyes reflecting your own. The steel of his shotgun gleams in the blistering sunset. Flustered concern etched in his forehead. “He’s down. How bad is it?.”

Wheezing in the dust and dripping sweat from your furrowed brow, you move your unsteady fingers over dirt-scuffed denim to get a better look at the sizable hole entrenched in the muscle of your inner thigh.

“Ahhh..I- I don’t know. Pretty deep.”

You shoot a dirty look to the bloodied bullet sitting just to your left. What a piece of shit. How could something so small cause so much fucking damage?

Warm, velvet red ripples steadily from the split skin.

“Bullet still in there?” He’s breathless.

“No.” You bite out. “Clean shot.”

You lift your hand, blood sticky and gross on your palm. He clicks his tongue as if it isn’t that serious, but the way his face whitens betrays him. This was all wrong. He should never have let you take this job. He should’ve convinced Maria to pick someone else.

“Okay. Okay. That’s alright. Scooch up now, I'll grab the kit.”

“No, no i’ll do it. Just…keep watch. I’ll be alright.” You rebuff his hovering anxiety, with more certainty than you feel. Mostly for his benefit.

Waving his hesitant form away with marginal annoyance, you grumble out a half-serious “s’fine.”

You will be, right? Fine? You’ve been through worse injuries than this. It’s not like you’re infected. Reaching up to rifle through the drawer beside you one-handed, you note that you can no longer feel the sting of your fingers, pinched over the wound to keep it closed.

Joel still hasn’t moved an inch, so you wave him off once more, needle and thread secured in hand. “Need you to keep your eye on the driveway, Joel.”

Christ, It’s only your lives at stake here. The last thing you need is him losing focus when he’s the only one with a gun, and you need him to actually use it if you want to make it out of this alive.

He reluctantly concedes, mumbling to himself. Anger and adrenaline still burn bright and hot in his chest at the sight of your wound, so while you pull on the edge of the thread with your teeth to free it, he turns away to focus on something else that isn’t covered in your blood, eyes landing on the corpse of the last soldier outside.

He knows he should feel bad that he’d gunned down that young boy without hesitation, should feel guilty. Some of these “officers” were still just kids, shoved out in front of threats as fodder.

But he doesn’t feel bad. He’ll do it again.

FEDRA radio static crackles from beneath the rest of the bodies splattered in the overgrown grass.

“Second unit ten minutes away, over.”

Okay. No reason to panic. You have ten minutes. This is fine.

You try hard not to focus on the mess as you thread the rusty needle with far more force than is required, slippery hands pressing the tip into the top section of flesh that’s split open. You push, wincing.

And the stupid thing breaks.

Snaps in two. Like it’s nothing.

No. no. no no no no.

Joel’s back is turned, and he misses the horror splashed across your features. Your heart beats out of your chest.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

“I broke it.”

He whips around, reaching for you immediately. “What? Broke what?” He spots the split metal beside you, red thread hanging limp, and picks the two ends up with an unreadable expression.

Forcing your eyes down purposefully into your mangled, pulsing leg, you barely see the fat lining through the ripples of blood and muscle. Fuck, that’s disgusting. Swallowing back a wave of nausea, you tear your sweat-soaked flannel over your head, pulling it as tight as you can stand. You can’t stitch it up, so this will have to do for now.

You shiver. Then two hands are firmly gripping your shoulders as you wither beneath Joel as he looms over you, dizzy and disorientated in panic. You grip his wrists to stop from losing face.

“Fuck. Okay…s’fine…just keep it wrapped. Won’t be long til’ the last of those dirty fuckers show up.” The timbre of his voice is deep, trembling. “I’ll take care of them ‘n then we get the hell out of here. We’ll head straight to Tommy’s..” He pauses. “You just gotta hold out for a bit longer, okay?”

You nod but can’t bring yourself to look at him as he brushes his large palm against your cheek in reassurance, standing to take his position against the wall by the door. You chew on your lip, tasting blood. How long can you really last like this? Night is closing in. The temperature is dropping fast. Your flannel is already wet. The reduced circulation will slow it down, give you maybe fifteen minutes of grace to figure something out.

But then what?

The faint rumble of engines sends electric shocks zip-zapping up and down your spine and Joel stands up straighter, index finger hovered over the slope of the trigger. He’s itching to pull it, to kill them all, end this horror of a day. Bury it in the past where it belongs. He’ll take you back home where it’s safe and run you a bath and forget this ever happened, banish it to the recesses of his nightmares.

Glossy with cold sweat, your pulse flutters. The ominous creep of a slippery puddle has begun to form between your inner thigh and the mottled floorboards. You count the seconds. And breathe. In and out. In and out. Think. think. think.

The silence is suffocating as you mull over your possible options. You could look around for another med kit, but what would be the chances? Plus, you can barely move and it would be a waste of energy. What about something to plug the hole? Tampons, pads…anything? Sweeping the barren room, you can’t see shit in the shadows except Johanna’s small frame, lying flat against the mattress. She’s been eerily still and quiet throughout the standoff, and you wonder if she’s afraid. Tear tracks stain her little cheeks. You chide yourself at forgetting to check on her.

“You alright, honey?”

She nods, but you notice the odd angle of her leg, and how she quivers. You had forgotten how dependent young children were, because Ellie was older and fairly self-sufficient now. An adult could potentially manage with a broken leg on foot for a while on regular terrain, but not a 6 year old. She needs a doctor, antibiotics. Joel will need to carry her back to Jackson.

The thing is, the numbness in your thigh that’s creeping steadily toward your hip tells you that the bullet has almost certainly nicked your main artery. Logic suggests you’d never make it to Jackson in time to stop bleeding out. Not even if you could run, let alone being unable to walk by yourself.

You watch the blood pool and spread, sinking into bug-bitten damp planks. Soaking the soil beneath. There shouldn’t be this much of it.

You turn back to Joel warily, angling yourself so that only your good leg is facing toward Johanna. She’s already seen far too much today.

“How many rounds you got left?” You ask.

“Enough.” He lies.

“Even if you manage the whole unit, I can’t run like this.” You gesture to your leg, but he doesn’t look.

“I’ll carry you. S’fine.” He swears, wavering. Convincing himself.

“Look at me, Joel.” You hiss.

You’re glaring at him as he methodically checks every part of the gun and frustration bubbles up inside you. You do not have time for his denial.

“Joel!”

He looks up at the sound of your growing desperation and you shift, grimacing as your thigh pulses with blistering pain. His eyes lower as you gingerly lift the shirt so he can see how bad it really is, plastered and dripping in the evidence of your failure. The uselessness and futility of it all. He starts toward you. “Don’t fuckin’ take it off! Jesus christ.”

“Hand me the gun, Miller.”

“What the hell are you talkin’ about?”

You try to push back the tears that are brimming in your eyes. How can you convince him?

“Cop on, for christ’s sake. You only have two hands. If you give me the gun you can get the hell out of here and ta-”

You don’t get to finish your explanation as he slams the shotgun down on the table. The walls shake with the impact of it. “What kind of man do you fuckin’ think I am? Huh? You really think i’d leave you here? Abandon you?”

You exhale gratuitously, trying to get ahold of yourself so you don’t ruin this more than you already have. “It’s not about me Joel.” You plead, “I know what kind of a man you are. But look at that kid, she can’t fucking run!”

“ Don’t make this difficult for me” You whisper, biting back a wave of grief at how beautiful he looks in this light, even in his anger.

His eyes bore holes into yours. Silent. Unwavering. He won’t let you do this, there has to be another way. He’ll find it.

You look him dead on, mustering all the courage you have left in you.

“Could you live with yourself? if you let her die, just because you’re too much of a coward to let me go?” You almost regret the weight and severity of your words, but you’re pulling your last card here. Somebody has to survive this mess and you’ll do what you have to do, though it breaks your fucking heart to know you’ll never get the future you were imagining this morning - that you’ll never feel the warmth of the sun again or be able to see Ellie grow up, never have the garden you wanted so badly, or feel the rush of exhilaration when you ride out with Joel for a job. You’ll die right here when he leaves you behind and you have to make him do it.

Because if he doesn’t take the girl and get the fuck out out, all three of you are done for.

“You’re a dad, Miller.” You change tack, voice softer now, lilted. “You know what you have to do.” Your heavy, tired eyes flit to the left.

He’s silenced by that, pained gaze turned to where the youngster is sat. He knows her leg hurts and he can see the bone is resting at an odd angle. You’re right, she can’t run. But there has to be something he can do.

Joel looks at her like he has to double check several times before turning back to you - words twisted and caught in his throat. A large, soft hand rests on your thigh. “I-I’ll find another needle and thread and we’ll patch you up right here, okay? You…you can run if it’s stitched. We’ll make it.”

Tears burn your eyes as you see the devastation mirrored in his own. The longing. You turn your head down, snaking your hand through his curls and pressing a lingering kiss to the top of his head. Savouring every part of him as much as you can.

“I’m dying, Joel.” You release the words in one breath, but you surprisingly find you accept them easily. Naturally. You’d thought it’d be difficult to actually acknowledge it, but there’s no apprehension or venom in your voice.

“Don’t. Don’t you fuckin’ dare say that.”

You open your eyes and take him in, heartbroken. All orange and red and purple, soft and dream-like. A smile touches your cheeks and Joel marvels at that, how beautiful and angelic you are, even while you’re bleeding out in front of him. It’s too much for him and his chest constricts painfully. How could he have let this happen? You can’t be dying. He won’t let you.

“You have to let me go, Miller”

His head ducks down and he swallows thickly. Joel has felt helplessness before, more times than he cared to remember. This time it’s also denial that crushes him as he scrambles, trying to find a solution he knows already doesn’t exist. This is all happening too fast, his whole life falling down around him. What would he say to Ellie? She would hate him. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself. Not if he did this.

“I won’t. I won’t fail again.”

Panic rises in you at his reluctance and you grip his hand as tight as you can. “You’ll fail me if you don’t get that girl to a doctor! I’ll never forgive myself if she doesn’t make it home to her mama, Joel.”

“It’s not your fault.” You add, softly, though he shakes his head ever so slightly.

You hear the disruptive crackle again. “Unit dropping in five, over.”

He stands abruptly and you do too, taking his outstretched hand and letting him support your weight as you both peer across the lawn, searching for the vehicles, but unable to see much beyond the winding driveway and thicket of trees.

The engines are a little louder now. Shouts and orders echoing distantly from empty streets and the valley edges. There’s nothing else alive here to make noise, save for a few infected wandering the edges of town.

Joel’s arm slides comfortably around you and you lean into it. So warm and good. Always there for you. Looking after you. Supporting the weight of your whole world. And as much as your exhausted body is begging for his touch, screaming for the comfort of his arms, dying for him to pick you up and carry you home and wrap you up to lie lazily in his bed, it would be real fuckin’ selfish of you to give in.

Your heart pangs as you think of Ellie. She’ll never forgive you.

Tears are streaming down your cheeks now, but you don’t care anymore and you look at Joel, really look, trying to etch every detail of this man’s face into your memory. God, he was beautiful. Every gentle line and every hair, the tug of his soft mouth and the glint of his eyes.

Your left hand grips his over the cold metal and you steel your resolve. This time you have to be the strong one. For him. For her.

“Give me the fucking gun, Joel.”

There’s a moment of silence where you think he might fight, might try to convince you there’s another way, try to make you run with him even though you can’t even stand up properly. But his grip relaxes and a huge wave of relief washes over you. Adjusting your position, you struggle unceremoniously with his help to a spot underneath the window that’ll give you the cover you need while you do this last thing. Your muscles relax against the floor, eager to rest. He reluctantly lets you slide down.

At the kickback of a truck that’s too close, he moves over to Johanna and crouches, motioning for her to climb onto his broad back. “Come on now, sweetheart”

“What about her?” The girl’s voice is quiet, resigned.

“Don’t you worry honey, I’ll be right behind you.” The lie is smooth and sweet in your mouth. Too easy, too sure. Parental. Joel’s been rubbing off on you. You reassure her even as you begin to tremble.

Joel’s expression is unreadable and he takes a shaky step toward you, holding his cargo carefully. She clings to him and you try to steel yourself.

Doors shut and slam in the near distance, and you realize they must be equipping and briefing down at the turnoff because they don’t know you know they’re coming. You give Joel a pointed look at the open back door, a silent directive. Go. They’ve parked up. You need the time. Instead, he advances til he’s right in front of you.

“What are you doing?” You croak, not wanting to prolong this, for his sake as well as your own. Aren’t you suffering enough? “You gotta go, Joel. You got like, five minutes to put as much ground as you can between us.”

“Let me look at you, for christ’s sake.” one last time. Committing to his own memory your sure grip of the shotgun he taught you how to use, searing into his brain the way your hair is curling in the humidity and the pretty silhouette of your nose. The inky brush of your eyelashes. When he’d picked you up two years ago in Arizona, you couldn’t even set a trap. Now here you are, willing to do the unthinkable for a child you don’t even know.

Would he still have stopped to throw you in the back of his truck, all that time ago, knowing now that going with him would end this way? That you’d never even make it to 30? That being with him was a death sentence?

He’s not strong enough to say that he wouldn’t have done everything exactly the same, and he thinks that’s fucking selfish. But what was his life without you? Knowing your warmth and your life and your joy, could he have ever consciously chosen to live without it? He’d never meant for this to happen. He had promised to protect you, not to leave you behind to die in some dirty shack. After all you’d been through and all the cards you’d been dealt, he’d sworn to make sure he’d take care of you for the rest of your life. That pain and death would be kept at bay. That you wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

Anger and despair and frustration all battled for dominance inside him, leaving him raw and broken in front of you. He’d coped with so much death, lost Sarah’s mom, then Sarah. Nearly lost Ellie. How could he give you up like this? Even when there was no other choice, no other way?.

In that moment he feels completely pathetic in the light of your bravery. Guilt crawls up his spine, twisting and pulling. He’s failed you.

“I’m sorry.”

You, frustrated, sniff back the sob that’s trying to break out of you. “No, Joel, it’s-”

“I’ll come back. Tonight.” He interrupts, tormented. His own sorrow crashing over you both. You shake your head. He can’t. Plus, you don’t want him to see whatever sorry state you’re sure your body will be in by that time.

“You gotta stay with Ellie, Joel.”

Reminded suddenly of the book in your bag and not wanting to forget your promise, you use your good leg to boot it over towards Joel. “Here,” Worn canvas slides along the floor and he retrieves it with his free arm, pulling the strap over and looking inside, realizing he’s looking at the book you’d been yarning your mouth off about.

“Promised her i’d pick something up. She was so mad at me for leaving her behind.” You offer, laughter mute and subdued.

He pulls it out.

“Give it to her yourself.” He returns, pleading.

Your gaze softens. “You’ll tell her I’m sorry?”

He curses and runs a hand over his face and his pain in tandem with your own is unbearable. So you close your eyes. The smell of him is still so intoxicating and you breathe deeply, willing it to linger, to comfort you.

The truth is, you’re only being brave for his sake. You know that if you let him see how afraid you really are, he’ll never be able to leave. You lean back against the wall, hoping it will ground you.

All of a sudden, his warm mouth is on your forehead pressing a kiss into you, and the intensity behind it blinds you despite the fact you can’t see anything anyway. The kind of kiss that’s supposed to stay with you. The only way he can. You’re dizzy, suddenly. You defy the urge to reach up and keep him held tight against you forever.

“I’ll bring you home, I promise.” The hope in his voice almost breaks you. If you do your job right, there won’t be enough of you left for that.

“I’ll be here.” You let the sobs tear through your body, gripping the shotgun as if it’s the only thing grounding you. Your heart squeezes painfully. Sounds become louder. Boots on gravel, metal clicking. You were out of time five minutes ago.

“Go.” You cry, unable to hold it back. You are fatigued now, everything hurts, every cell in your body is aching for rest and comfort and he has to leave now.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

He has to force his legs to move, every bone in his body, every instinct denying the act. The weight of the little girl in his arms barely registering. She’s passed out from the shock, breathing steadily against him. He can’t tear his eyes away from your shaking hands as he backs towards the door.

I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. So fucking sorry. Please forgive me. Please be alive. I’ll come for you.

The thud of his boots grows quieter, and you wait several minutes (trying not to fall into the clutches of a greedy sleep) until there’s nothing but the encroaching sound of your killers and the hum of their vehicles. Blinking away your tears, you realize with mid-sob that a warm weight is over your lap, stifling the chill that ripples away from you like waves in a pond. Eyes adjusting back to the light, you discover the culprit is his tattered, worn leather jacket. Of course. It’s been placed over you so carefully, so quietly, that you didn’t even notice.

Clutching it against you, you allow yourself to let go now. You cry and cry and cry until you’re empty, choking, throat hoarse. You don’t care if the FEDRA boys hear you, you don’t care if anyone hears you. Joel’s gone now, he won’t have to listen to this pathetic demonstration of your fear.

Please, God, let her live. Let her live, let her live. I’ll do anything you want. Keep her alive for me.

Joel’s not a believer in higher power, but you are, so he prays to your god anyway, as the scent of fir smothers the air, and the cacophony of the forest sounds too much like you. Reminds him of your sweet smile and the honey in your brown eyes as the sun dipped into them. How many afternoons passed by, lazily drenched in summer heat, like two cats gorged on life? How many moments has he spent, mapping and memorizing you? He’s walked away, but everything inside him is still there, in the shack with you. He hopes that you won’t be cold now. That his jacket will keep you warm enough and that maybe, maybe, you can slip away before FEDRA even gets to you. Maybe you can hide.

It’s logically close to impossible.

He feels like a hypocrite, muttering promises under his breath as he stumbles through the night, and wonders how could he pray now? Offer words up to a God who had condemned you both here? And who was God to choose? To turn the wheel, throw the dice on who’s life to give and who’s to take away? How was that fair at all? To take away your future like that? His future, too?

He also makes different kinds of promises. Ones he’ll keep to himself that involve his baser self. An eye for an eye. They took you from him? He’d take everything. Destroy the whole organisation from the inside out.

FEDRA and the whole damn world could go blind for all he fucking cared. He wasn’t fighting for justice. You deserved more than that. You deserved to have somebody avenge you. You deserved to know that you meant enough to somebody, were loved enough, that they’d tear apart the world for you.

He doesn’t think he’s ever run so fast in his life.

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝

You hiccup, wiping your blurry eyes on the back of your hand with your shirt. His shirt. Sniffing and hoping Joel won’t find your face covered in tear stains and snot after you die, (despite the absurdity of it, you’d be so embarassed) you cock his shotgun and take a preliminary aim out of the corner of the hole in the glass window pane. By your own calculations, It’ll take the six men at the bottom of the winding driveway about a minute to get up the lawn, and you need to give Joel as big of a head start as you possibly can, although he’s likely already far enough away. You spot three more younger boys bringing up the rear. They walk slowly and using your other hand, you pull the leather jacket over you, settling against the window frame further because you’re tired and you’re done moving.

“Come out with your hands up, Miller!”

You bite your lip and stay silent. You wanted to wait as long as possible before engaging them and having them realize Joel isn’t with you, but one of the older officers with a “commander” badge fastened to his lapel slipped your eyeline and has come far too close to your position near the door. You decide quickly that you’ll pick him off before he can spot you. With a twitch of your index and a bang that’s absorbed into the hungry night sky, the man’s dead in the dirt with a splatter the size of Texas covering his front.

Unexpected chaos erupts. The younger officers are not as well trained as you had assumed they would be. To your dismay, they immediately panic, breaking formation and begin firing. Your own shots only take down two more.

The planks of the door blister and break and shrapnel and dust fills the air. You instinctively turn away from the window. “Shit!”

You have seconds left to reload and you’re too slow. But you’d known it was coming to this. Every moment of your life, every choice you made, leading you to this moment. You know you must look pathetic like this, crouched under the frame, bleeding out, cowering. In pain. But you’d do it all again for him. Joel was safe now, he’d make sure Johanna got back. That was all that mattered.

Your life in exchange for theirs. You, for two futures. More than fair. Jackson wouldn’t suffer through the winter. Ellie would still get her book. Joel still had time, he could find someone else, maybe even love again.

Boots thud and voices yell and a piercing pain suddenly blooms from your chest. Vermillion unraveling over your chest like an unfurling flower in spring. The door collapses into the frame and soldiers spill into the shack. Everything is hazy and distorted, shapes dissolving this way and that, voices shrill and every noise and sensation amplified. Faceless men. Toy soldiers. The overstimulation is painful, and you feel someone shaking you - hard. Another is clicking his fingers in front of your eyes, trying to keep you conscious.

“Hey, look at me! Miller. Where’s Miller?!”

“Don’t worry boys.” You cough out, laughing. It’s strange in your ears. Everything is ringing. When Joel finds your shot-up corpse, he’ll lose his mind, and as much as you hate that he’ll have to see it, you get a kind of sick satisfaction knowing they’ll have to suffer at his hands for what they’ve done. That your pain won’t go unpunished.

“He’ll…he’ll be back for-” You can’t manage to finish because blood has backed up in your throat, but you’re sure they get the picture. The iron taste is final in your mouth, filling up your lungs. You stop trying to hold yourself up, there’s no point. The soldiers are yelling, still trying to communicate with you. You’re done now.

As you hit the floor with an exhausted thud, you close your eyes against the sensory overload and it’s as if your subconscious knows you must be on the way out, because as FEDRA hands pull and grab at your shivering body and slick liquid pools on your stomach and waist, you’re enveloped by the arrest of your own memories, soaked in endorphins, dripping in affection. Your favourites flash before your eyes. The afternoon in the wheat field, your poems, the first time you’d met Ellie. His hands on your body for the first time, delicious currents rippling through your skin at his touch. His kisses, soft and luxurious, every touch for you so contradictive to everything else he had to handle in his life. The fire in your veins a result of his devotion to your pleasure - a way for him to reconcile the other things he’d had to do before you came along.

You know it isn’t real, know it’s that thing that happens to your brain when you die, but in your delirium you can swear that you hear Ellie’s tinkling laugh, feel the tender relief of Joel’s hands hot over your skin, melting away the bitter pain of the cold. You know you feel his breath on your neck and his kiss on your temple. You take it all, and you reach out - knowing he’s there. Whatever happens now, wherever you go, he’ll hold you. He’ll keep you safe.

“It’s cold here. It hurts, Joel.”

“‘S okay baby. I’m here now….no more pain. No more cryin’.”

He’s mouth-wateringly warm.

“I’m so afraid…so…so tired” You try to remember how you got here and what you were doing, but everything is so heavy around you, suppressing you.

“I know y’are. I know. You did well, sweetheart, we’re so proud of you. You’re so brave. My brave girl. But I need y’to let go and rest now, can you do that for me? ”

Of course. You’ll do anything he asks. You acquiesce easily, curling into him. So, so sleepy…

“Okay. Will you stay with me?”

“ I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You let go and dip gently into the black, waiting abyss.

#tlou #tlou fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #pedro pascal #pedrostories #pedrohub #angst lol #rushkawrites #fanfiction #wtf even is this #fanfics #fics #reader insert #non gendered reader

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