#this is my au where they are happy and in love and alive forever on brokeback mountain | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

shellshocklove · 8 months ago

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does anyone know where the love of god goes? | joel miller

pairing/AU: joel miller x female!reader – post breakout & no ellie AU

summary: crossing the country alone as he searches for his brother, joel stumbles on a farm. winter is closing in, and against his better judgement he's convinced to stay. as the frost covers the land like a blanket, a warmth ignites in his heart for the young woman who's home he finds himself in.

warnings: this is an 18+ fic so minors dni!!! canon-typical violence, age gap (reader is mid to late twenties), swearing, dead animals, joel being a sad man, masturbation, no use of y/n

a/n: i soft launched this ao3 last month and it flopped lol so i'm gonna keep my expectations low for this series. anyways this has been a story i've been thinking about since probably october. this is the first part of what i'm hoping will be 3 parts. happy reading i guess

main masterlist / series masterlist / ao3 / playlist

from the river to the sea, palestine will be free 🇵🇸 this account stands with palestine. the creator of tlou is a zionist, and the second game is largly based on israel/palestine. please, everyone who interacts, educate yourself about the genocide happening right now, and support/donate.

The leaves rustled against Joel’s boots with every step he took. The sun had turned traitor cold, and he couldn’t feel its kiss against his cheek no more. The trees shivered above him in the wind – the only sound for miles except his heavy steps.

Did he still exist, with no one around? Joel had never minded being alone; after the breakout he’d found that he sometimes preferred it. People could be… well, when you’ve seen the worst of humanity, maybe it’s best to leave it behind.

And wasn’t he the worst of humanity? The things he’d done. The people he’d killed, and killed for. The people he’d lost.

But he had to keep going. For Tess. He promised.

Every night as he stared into the flames his thoughts would drift to her – the memories flickering in the fire. They should’ve never gone through that museum – it was supposed to have been empty – they should’ve never left Boston in the first place. Now Tess is gone because of him, him and his stupid plan to find his brother.

And for what? How is he ever gonna find Tommy?

Joel didn’t even know where he was. Nebraska? South-Dakota? Maybe he’d made it to Wyoming and just didn’t know it? Abe had told him ‘Cody Tower’, but Joel hadn’t seen anything other than mother nature for weeks.

Everything had started to look the same. Trees and more trees, a mountain in the distance, a grey and heavy sky above him. He’d been walking for forever. Slowly he moved west– or at least he thought he was. On the days where the sun hung high in the sky and wasn’t shielded behind a cloudy partition, he liked to watch it as it dipped below the earth. As the days turned shorter and shorter, the display of color had started to get more vivid. Joel would watch the light blue turn red and bloody, fiery tongues of flames licking over the horizon while the sharp edges of the mountains, and the triangular shapes of the trees faded into an intense black– like the shape of the mountain and the trees had been cut out with scissors. There wasn’t much to stay alive for anymore– but Joel lived for those few moments where nature painted with fire. Humanity might’ve gone to shit, but the cyclical regularity of mother nature gave Joel a small sense of peace.

But he missed the kiss of the sun against his cheek now. He’d moved into a large forest a few days ago. Tall trees hovered over him like giants and cast shadows down at him. It was colder here than out in the open country, but at least he’d been somewhat shaded from the rain pouring from the grey cover above his head the last few days.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The sound stopped Joel in his tracks. Muscle memory worked on its own, gripping the shotgun slung over his shoulder. He listened for the sound again, to the steady rhythm echoing through the forest.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

With slow calculated steps Joel walked in the direction of the sound with the shotgun held tightly to his chest, his finger hovered over the trigger. The chopping sound got louder as he closed in on a man. He couldn’t tell his age with the man’s back turned – but he was strong – Joel could tell from how hard the man’s axe hit the tree trunk.

Taking another silent step, Joel got in position, “How ‘bout you slowly turn around and place that axe on the ground.”

Joel’s voice was hoarse after no use, but still cold and calculated as he spoke his order. He could see he’d startled the man, probably thinking he was alone, just like Joel had thought mere minutes ago.

The man obeyed, turning around slowly. He was older than Joel, maybe mid-seventies, maybe older if the wrinkles and creases around his eyes and nose were to be believed. His hair was white as snow matching his unkempt beard. Joel caught his eye. Strong and steady, no trace of fear one would think a man would feel while having a gun pointed at them.

Joel’s grip around the gun tightened. He wasn’t afraid to pull the trigger if that’s where this was headed. The man watched him calmly before he bent his knees, throwing the axe haphazardly on the ground.

“Kick it over here,” Joel commanded again, and the man obeyed, kicking the axe clumsily towards Joel.

Slowly Joel crept closer, gun still pointed at the man. He locked the heel of his shoe against the shaft, dragging the axe behind him and out of the way.

“Hands where I can see ‘em.”

“Are you going to kill me, son?”

The man’s question puzzled Joel. He said it so calmly, like how you’d ask someone to pass the salt.

“That depends on you.” Joel’s answer pulled at the old man’s lips, a small huff of a laugh escaping them.

“Well, you’re the one with the gun. I think it depends on you.”

Joel tightened his grip on the shotgun again – he didn’t know why –to frighten the man? He didn’t seem very frightened.

“Are you alone?” Joel asked.

“Not anymore,” the man answered.

“Don’t be a smartass,” Joel gritted through his teeth, “who you travelin’ with?”

“No one,” the man’s eyes never left Joel, “I live at a farm about a mile away.”

“Take me to it.”

The man walked with a limp Joel noticed. It was barely there, you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t pay attention, but it was there. The man acted tough enough, but his body revealed his weaknesses. It would be easy to kill him, Joel thought, if it came to that.

He followed the man through the trees with his gun pointed at his back. When they reached the end of the forest a clearing revealed itself. They followed a path through a field of, tall but wilted, brown grass until they reached an overgrown gravel road with a fence running along it. Looking out in the distance, Joel could see small spots of white and black wool. The gravel moaned under their feet as they closed in on a small farm. A two-story house sat in the middle of the barnyard where it was surrounded by a barn who’d seen better days, a silo, and a smaller farmhouse – a stable – Joel noticed as they walked closer.

The man trudged up the front stairs of the main farmhouse, a hand on the handrail keeping him steady.

“Put that gun away would you, son? I don’t want you frightening my wife.” The man broke the silence between them, speaking for the first time since they left the woods.

Joel’s grip on his shotgun didn’t loosen. How could he be sure that this man’s ‘wife’ wasn’t some gang of raiders hiding behind the front door? A question he asked the man through gritted teeth when he turned around to look at Joel.

“There’s nothing of the sort around here,” the man said, “we don’t even see any infected.”

When Joel didn’t say anything, and didn’t lower the gun, the man spoke again, “Who are you?”

“Just someone passin’ through,” Joel answered, making the man chuckle.

“You’re something else, passer-througher,” the old man smiled before he turned around again and stepped inside, leaving Joel on the porch alone.

Abandoned outside he lowered his gun slightly. Inside he could hear muffled voices, a deeper one, definitely the old man, and a brighter one, a woman’s voice. He listened, trying to make out their words with no prevail. The man seemed to have spoken the truth up until now. He most definitely lived on this farm – a seemingly normal farm. This man was just someone making an honest living – even after the apocalypse.

Lowering the gun completely, Joel put the safety on before he slung it over his shoulder. Taking a hollowed step towards the front door, movement in the window to the right of him caught his eye. It was there and then it was gone – just a ruffle of blonde curtains. Then, the door opened revealing an elderly woman.

The man’s wife.

“Welcome, traveler,” she greeted, stepping aside to let Joel in.

He passed through the doorway with a “Thank you, ma’am,” never forgetting his manners even after pointing a gun at her husband.

Inside it looked like a picture taken straight out of a Homes & Gardens magazine. The house was cozy, but it was small. He’d been welcomed into what probably used to be a parlor, but now served its purpose as their living room. It was hard to get a read on the house. Not like those open-floor plan houses he’d built too many of back before the outbreak – this was old, maybe hundreds of years old. The floorboard creaked under his shoes as he walked deeper into the living room, the rest of the house locked away like a secret behind three closed doors. The man was seated in a lounge chair by the fireplace, watching Joel with an expression Joel found it hard to decipher.

“Would you like some tea?” the woman asked, “It’s peppermint from our garden.”

Joel turned his head to the woman. She must be around the same age as the old man, Joel thought. He cleared his throat before he answered with a nod, “Thank you, ma’am.”

She pointed to the sofa, urging him to sit down with a smile before she disappeared through one of the doors to what Joel thought must be the kitchen. He felt the old man watching him as he slid his backpack off his shoulders, placing it on the creaky wooden floor behind the sofa. Joel hesitated for just a second when placing the shotgun up against the back, but decided he wasn’t in any imminent danger.

Joel almost groaned as he sat down. He’d been walking for so long, slept on the hard ground for months, he’d almost forgotten what a comfortable chair was. It almost felt surreal, being invited in for tea, like the outbreak had never happened. Here, it was like the time had stood still.

“So,” the man started, “where are you heading to if you’re just ‘passin’ through’?”

Joel cleared his throat again, “I’m lookin’ for my brother,” he answered truthfully, “last I heard he was somewhere in Wyoming.”

“If you’re going to Wyoming, then what you’re doing all the way up here?” The man queried with a chuckle.

Annoyed, Joel grinded his teeth, “Not many signs in the fuckin’ woods are there?” He huffed.

“I guess not,” the man shrugged, “but you’ve made a heck of a detour… where did you come from? Texas? You sound it.”

“Boston.”

“Boston?” the man didn’t hide his surprise, breathing out chuckles in disbelief, “I’ll give it to you, that’s one long trip.”

Joel only huffed in agreement, turning his head from the man to the window overlooking the barnyard.

“Well,” the man broke the growing silence between the two men, “you’re more than welcome to stay for dinner and for the night– you look like you could need a hot meal and a warm bed.”

Joel’s instinct was to say no, but before he could the front door opened, revealing a young woman. You.

You stopped dead in your tracks as you laid your eyes on Joel, “Oh!”.

The door slammed behind you. Under your arm you were carrying a metal bucket filled with apples. You were beautiful, young, but still beautiful – Joel couldn’t deny it.

“This is…” The man paused.

“Joel.” He cleared his throat, introducing himself, “Joel Miller.”

“Mr. Miller is just passing through– he’s looking for his brother,” the old man explained to you.

You nodded at the information, sat the bucket down before you reached out a hand for Joel to take, introducing yourself. Your hand in his was warm and soft while his own dwarfed yours, rough and calloused. He couldn’t help but think about what his hands had done, the people they’d killed. He shouldn’t be tainting yours, painting them red. Joel quickly drew his hand back, balling it into a fist at his side.

Joel looked over at the old man, “Your daughter?” he asked with a tilt of his head in your direction.

“Oh, no,” the man answered with a playful smile, “You’re not the first person ‘passin’ through’ who’s shown up on our doorstep.”

The door to the kitchen opened to reveal the old woman with a teapot in her hand, and a stacked tower of teacups in the other.

“Let me help you Alma,” you said, taking the teacups from the old woman’s hand before placing them on the table; one in front of Joel, a second in front of the old man, “Here you go Arthur,” and a third next to Joel.

“Did you also want some tea, sweetie?” Alma asked you as she placed the steaming teapot on the table.

“Yes, please, but I can grab a cup myself– sit down,” you smiled and padded the old woman’s shoulder, then you grabbed the bucket of apples and disappeared into the kitchen.

Alma started pouring the tea as a silence fell over the room. A small, “Thank you, ma’am,” left Joel’s lips as she moved on to pouring tea for her husband.

“So,” the man started before taking a sip of his tea, “what do you say Mr. Miller? You staying for the night?”

That night as he laid in a real bed for the first time in months, Joel had trouble falling asleep. He wasn’t used to this. Hadn’t been used to it for a while. His belly full, soft fabric against his skin, feeling warm, and clean. The old couple had offered him one of the two bedrooms on the first floor, the two mystery doors in the living room now revealed. Laying in his new bed he tried not to think about who he was sharing a wall with.

You.

You were something else, helpful and kind. Everything Joel hadn’t seen since the outbreak. At the dinner table you’d asked him questions and listened intently – even when his answers were short and brisk. There was a glimmer in your eye, and it touched something inside him he hadn’t felt in a long time. But you were young, mid to late twenties he reckoned, maybe a little older– anyways, he shouldn’t be harboring anything for you, it wouldn’t be right. Especially now, now that he’d agreed to stay.

After the dinner plates had been cleared, Arthur had folded a big map out on the table. “Here are we now,” he’d pointed a finger at the map. Montana. Southern Montana to be precise. “I’ll give it to you Mr. Miller, if you’ve made it this far on your own you probably won’t have any trouble making your way down south to Wyoming.”

“But?” Joel watched the grimace pulling at the old man’s face.

“But,” Arthur had said, “Winter is just around the corner and… well, going back out there in the wilderness alone during our winters is a dead trap, I’ll tell you that much.”

Joel had let the man go on about the far below freezing temperatures, the heavy snow, and the tough wind, but Joel wasn’t stupid. He knew the winters up here were harsh. It wasn’t even winter yet, but every day he’d felt the temperature drop lower and lower, and the last few of nights he’d even had to get a fire going, against his better judgement.

So– the deal was: Joel would stay over the winter. Just for the winter, he’d been adamant on not staying longer. He’d get a place to stay, a warm bed to sleep in, and food in his belly on one condition – he’d help out on the farm.

The fire crackled loudly, red tongues licking up the chimney as Joel fed it another log. He watched as the fire caught in the new log, devouring it quickly and with no mercy. It was really starting to heat up now. A small flicker of pride sparked in Joel chest. He’d always been good at building a fire. It was one of those things, Joel had come to learn, where you needed to pay attention, to have patience.

When he was younger, he’d take Tommy out camping sometimes, just the two of them. Mostly they’d go during the summer; Tommy wasn’t a fan of sleeping outside in the cold, though cold had meant something different back then in Texas. But Joel remembered one time he’d managed to convince him to go with him. It was right after he’d gotten his driver’s license, and his parents had given him a beat-up truck for his birthday – for sharing – they’d told him, “You need to give your little brother a ride when he needs it!” Joel wasn’t exactly thrilled about his future as Tommy’s private driver, but it didn’t mean he didn’t love his brother.

A few weeks into October he’d managed to convince Tommy to go camping. They’d packed the truck with their tents, sleeping bags, and fishing equipment, before they’d gotten on the road, driving to a lake where they knew there were fish to catch. Finding a place to camp was always difficult with Tommy. They’d parked Joel’s truck at the edge of the forest before they’d followed a hiking trail. Joel was convinced they’d walked at least three quarters of the way around the lake before they found a spot good enough for Tommy.

It had to be flat, but also shielded. There couldn’t be too many rocks, but there also had to be enough rocks to build a hearth. Tommy wanted it to be private, but he also wanted it to be open enough that he could see if someone would stumble upon their camp. Joel knew not to argue with him when he got like that, opting instead for a defeated, “Whatever.”

Setting up camp went relatively easy. They’d worked together building the tents, collecting rocks for their fireplace, and even managed to find a fallen tree to use as a bench. When the night slowly started to cover them in darkness, Tommy decided to get the fire going. Joel watched him work the logs into a pile as he started on filleting the fish they’d just caught.

“You’re doin’ it wrong,” he’d told his brother, “You’re suffocatin’ it.” He’d washed his hands in the lake, ridding himself of the slimy smell of fish, before crouching down next to Tommy.

The fire was one big bowl of smoke, and Joel caught himself wondering what messages Tommy must’ve been sending to the heavens. He removed some of the heavier logs, and the fire could breathe.

“See?” he’d looked at Tommy, “It just needed air.” Joel had shifted the smaller pieces of wood around and not long after the fire was alive.

That Joel, that green boy who liked to take his little brother camping, that Joel didn’t know how much those skills would come in handy in a few years when the world would get turned upside down.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?”

Your question pulled Joel from his memories. He turned his head slightly, meeting your gaze from where you were huddled up in the corner of the couch. You looked cozy, but he knew you weren’t. The house was cold this morning, outside a thin layer of frost had stuck to the grass during the night. It was early too, the sun not having climbed high enough yet to peek over the mountains. You looked tired where you sat, clad in a wool sweater with a blanket pulled over your knees. Under the blanket Joel remembered you were still wearing your pajama pants, and in your hand you held a steaming cup of tea, peppermint, Joel knew, his own cup abandoned on the coffee table.

“What?” Joel answered, eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you have any mittens, Joel?” you repeated softly, like the way people tended to speak in the mornings, like they were afraid they’d wake up the world.

His calves were starting to burn from the strain of being crouched in front of the fireplace for a moment too long, and he tried his best to hide his groan, biting his teeth together as he stood to his feet, knees cracking loudly.

“Um, no,” he said, confused about your question.

“I’ll knit you a pair then,” you smiled before putting your cup down next to his.

“That’s… that ain’t necessary,” Joel hurried, but you waved him off.

“Sure it is,” you smiled again, much to Joel’s annoyance. He didn’t deserve your kindness, but you gave it away like it cost nothing. “If you’re gonna be helping Arthur out in the woods this winter, you need some mittens.”

Joel watched as you got up from your home on the couch and vanished into your bedroom. A moment later you appeared in the doorway with a basket under your arm.

“Also…” you gave him another smile as you sat back down again, placing the basket in your lap. It was close to overflowing with yarn, balls of black and white in varying sizes peeking over the top, the homespun ends fraying against the rough edges of the basket. “I’ll have something to do during the evenings,” you winked before you rummaged through the basket and fished out a measuring tape.

Joel shifted his weight from one foot to the other as he watched you. Mittens? Joel can’t remember if he’s ever owned a pair of mittens. Gloves, sure, but mittens?

You patted the cushion next to you, urging him to sit down, kind smile hanging off your lips like always. Sitting down, he folded his hands in his lap, suddenly very aware of how close you were sitting. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sat next to you before; he’d been here a few weeks now, and he was starting to know you, but for some reason, this felt different. Maybe it was the early morning, the quiet house, or the fact that Alma and Arthur were still sleeping upstairs, but it felt like it was just the two of you, alone, and Joel didn’t know how to feel about it.

You shifted towards him, the blanket slipping slightly off the couch with your movement, in your hands you held the measuring tape while you looked at him expectantly.

When Joel didn’t move, a smile quirked at the corner of your mouth before you grabbed one of his hands resting in his lap. You uncurled his fingers slowly, one by one, making Joel hold his breath.

“I need to see how big I need to make them,” you whispered, holding his hand very gently.

Joel’s heart hammered in his chest. Your hand was warm and soft, like the last time he’d touched you as you’d introduced yourself to him. Joel didn’t dare look at your face, or he’d say something stupid, so he didn’t. He looked at your joined hands, his brain trying to remember the last time someone had held his hand as gently as you did, your thumb running over the back of it soothingly.

He can’t remember. His hands are always empty.

With your other hand, a finger curled around the measuring tape, you slipped it around his wrist before leaning closer to look at the numbers.

“Is this too tight you think, or do you want them to be looser?” You asked through your lashes, eyes sparkling in the low morning light.

Joel cleared his throat, “No, that’s fine.”

“Okay,” you nodded, slipping the measuring tape from his wrist to write down the measurement. He hadn’t noticed your notebook until now. It was a little rough around the edges from use, the spined cracked and the paper a little yellow. Placing the pen in the seam, you grabbed the measuring tape again.

Loosening your grip on his hand you placed it over the thick of your thigh. Joel drew a quick breath, his heartbeat hammering in his ears, under his hand he could feel the warmth of you through the soft flannel.

You continued taking your measurements. You didn’t say anything, so neither did Joel, but you looked up at him through your lashes sometimes, and Joel thought that maybe the most useful thing one can do with empty hands, is hold on.

The creak of the stair made Joel jump, and like he’d been burned his hand retracted on reflex, as Arthur’s heavy steps got closer.

“Morning,” Arthur greeted as he ducked his head through the door to the living room.

“Mornin’,” Joel mumbled, head lowered as he gathered his hands in his lap.

“Good morning!” you smiled, always with that kind smile, “Did you sleep well, Arthur?” you got up from your seat before grabbing your teacup to follow Arthur into the kitchen, leaving the yarn and Joel.

Taking a deep breath, Joel pinched the top of his nose. He needed to get it together. You were just being your regular kind self; your soft touch was nothing more than that. Standing to his feet, Joel grabbed his own cup, trudging into the kitchen.

In the kitchen Arthur sat in his usual spot at the dining table, the chair closest to the window. “I need to get on with this barn soon,” Joel heard him say as he sat down opposite him. “It’s gonna fall apart come spring if we get as much snow as we did last year.”

Joel tried his best not to look at you as he heard you hum. You were stood at the kitchen counter slicing the bread Alma had baked yesterday, readying breakfast. Instead, Joel opted to gaze down into his teacup, where the peppermint leaves had all gathered at the bottom.

“Um,” Joel cleared his throat, “what needs fixin’?”

“What doesn’t need fixing in that barn?” Arthur sighed, peeling his eyes from out the window to Joel.

“I can uh,” Joel eyes shifted quickly to you before he cleared his throat again, “I can take a look at it, if ya want?”

Arthur’s eyebrows met in a furrow as he looked at Joel.

“I used to be a contractor,” Joel explained with a shrug, before taking a last cold sip of his tea.

“So, you know a thing or two about buildings I reckon?” Arthur asked.

“Yeah, well I used to,” Joel leaned back in his chair.

“Well, that would be very helpful Joel– I’d appreciated it!” Arthur smiled before leaning back in his chair making room for you as you started setting the table. Joel gave him a short nod in return, trying to fight the urge to look at you as you placed the food on the table.

Arthur had downplayed the state of the barn – it was a mess – it was dangerous, and had Joel told him as much. But it was nothing Joel couldn’t fix, as long as he had the right supplies, fortunately for him the forest would provide them with what they needed.

Thwack. Thwack. Thwack.

The axe dug a deep wound into the bark with every swing. Joel’s breath was heavy, and his arms ached, but it was a welcomed form of tiredness. A month into it, he was starting to get used to the work. There was something so satisfying about manual labor, of using his hands, of making something – he’d almost forgotten.

The routine of the work felt good. Waking up at dawn, then breakfast, he could use his body for something useful for the first time in twenty years and end the day with a warm meal for supper. This new temporary life was simple, but it was strangely normal.

Originally, Joel was only helping Arthur out in the woods for firewood through the winter– but now with the barn, they’d changed course. The last few days they’d started to become more selective with the trees; looking for the tallest and straightest ones that would fall safely.

A frozen sky hovered over the men as they worked. This morning when Joel had woken up, the thinnest layer of snow had fallen like powdered sugar during the night, turning the world bright with winter. Earlier in the week the frost had perched on the farm, and Joel had known winter was closing in. He’d lost count of the days and months passing while on his own, but Arthur had told him it was late October.

“It will start snowing properly soon,” Arthur said, breaking the silence between them.

Joel hummed before taking a bite of his packed lunch. They’d worked all morning – Joel felling the trees and Arthur cleaning them up and removing the branches. Now they were sat on a fresh tree stump each, their first break of the day.

“I have an old logging sled in the barn– used to be my father’s,” Arthur explained, “I think we should leave the trees here until the snow gets deep enough for the sled and have the horses pull them back to the farm.”

“Fine by me,” Joel took another bite of his lunch.

“The logs will have to dry out over the winter,” Arthur mused, “Then come spring we can start the repairs on the barn.”

Spring. If everything goes according to plan, Joel won’t be here come spring. He needed to find Tommy– he couldn’t, and he wasn’t gonna stay on the farm for any longer than necessary. He’d already decided– when the snow finally started to melt, Joel was gone.

Joel hummed, a non-committed answer. It was easier that way, to not get Arthur’s hopes up. He liked Arthur, he was a good man, a hard worker even in his old age, and silent when Joel wanted him to be. Joel liked Alma too, but her age shined through more easily than Arthur’s. Joel couldn’t help but notice her repeating herself more often and forgetting where she put things. It made life harder for you, Joel could see it. Your responsibilities were already a lot to handle as you took care of the animals mostly by yourself, but as Joel had discovered Alma starting to struggle with the housework, he’d noticed you starting to help her more often. In Joel’s mind it was unfair to you, but it wasn’t like he could blame Alma for growing older, in this world it was a feat.

Still, he’d try his best to help you when he could, like doing the dishes after dinner as you dried them off and put them away. The first few times you were both quiet, it was strangely intimate, only the sound of splashing water filling the space between you. One night he'd gotten brave, breaking the comfortable silence and asked you ‘What you thinkin’ about, sweetheart?’ You’d looked at him with big eyes, searching his own for something, but before he could figure out what it was, you’d answered him with a shrug. It was unlike you, unlike you to be this silent, but Joel didn’t push. The next night the silence persisted, and he’d thought adding ‘Sweetheart’ had been too much, but then the next night you’d sighed quietly and whispered, “I’m worried about Alma.”

Looking down at the mittens in his lap, the guilt gnawed at him. The look of worry in your eyes, Arthur’s hopeful wishes, and Alma’s aging. Joel couldn’t have anything tying him to this place. He was supposed to find his brother.

Suddenly, a black and orange butterfly landed on Joel’s knee. Joel stopped breathing, body going rigid as he tried not to move. How the hell was this butterfly still alive? It sat quiet on his knee, wings slowly retracting and widening behind it. Memories pushed its way to the forefront of Joel’s mind then.

Sarah. Another year had gone by, and the thought made his chest tighten.

“That’s quite a sight at this time of year,” he heard Arthur say, “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“Y-yeah,” Joel stammered out an answer, afraid his voice would scare it away.

The longer Joel watched the butterfly he found his guilt started to slowly melt away. It’s okay, dad. It was like the rustling of the trees carried her voice with them. You’re on the right path.

“I can do that f’you want, sweetheart.”

Joel’s boots creaked under him as he walked across the barnyard. You looked up at the sound of his voice, smile blossoming across your face as you tightened your grip on the shovel.

“It’s alright,” you said with a grunt as you picked up more snow, adding it to the growing pile, “Good for me to get some physical work in.”

Joel nodded as you straightened up, hand going to your hip while the other leaned on the shovel, your heavy breath curled in small plumes out of your mouth. You took him in for a second, eyes flickering over his form before they fell on the rabbits hanging over Joel’s shoulder.

“Where’d you get those?” you asked, and Joel shrugged.

“Shot ‘em,” he said simply, “they walked right by me as I was choppin’– seemed too good to pass up.”

“Not for the rabbits,” you muttered, and Joel had to fight the urge to smile.

“You a vegetarian or somethin’?” he asked with a single raised eyebrow, and you waved him off.

“No,” you said pointedly, but a teasing lilt lingered, “Just stating a fact... we don’t eat a lot of rabbit around here, is all.”

Joel nodded slightly; it made sense. He knew there was a gun in the house, but it was a revolver– too small to do any real hunting, and Joel didn’t even know if there were bullets for it. So, Joel didn't ask further. Lucky for him, you did.

“So, you just shot those?” you asked, a frown pulling at your eyebrows, “Aren’t they fast?”

Joel made a nonchalant sort of face. “Ain’t that hard when you can aim straight.”

“Well, how do you aim straight?”

“You learn to shoot.”

You let out a small laugh, one that pulled at Joel’s lips. “And how did you go about learning that?”

Joel felt his smile drop, the leather strap of his shotgun weighing heavy on his shoulder, “Practice.”

You didn’t seem to notice the change in his demeanor as you dug the shovel into the snow, so it stood by itself like a watchman. “Can you teach me?” you asked, the snow creaking under your shoes as you took a few steps closer.

His lips pulled at the corner, “No.”

Your eyes widened with disappointment, eyebrows pulling together in a frown as you asked, “Why?”

“Nothin’ good ever comes from it,” Joel shrugged.

“Okay,” you huffed a laugh, “that’s sinister.” Then you narrowed your eyes at him, gearing up for an argument no doubt with the way you rested your hand on your hip. “What if I also wanted to go hunting?” you posed, and Joel shook his head.

“That ain’t happenin’, sweetheart.”

“Okay, but now you’ve brought us rabbits– and what if I end up really liking rabbit?” you bit down on your bottom lip, unconsciously showing off you own rabbit teeth.

Cute.

“Then I’ll shoot as many rabbits as you want,” Joel countered with a teasing smile before tightening his hold on the rope slung over his other shoulder (the one he’d tied the rabbits to), and walked towards the kitchen door at the back of the farmhouse.

He heard you huff in defeat behind him, your creaky steps following him up the stairs and inside. Walking into the kitchen Joel placed the rabbits on the table before he pulled at his mittens, stripped off his jacket, and hung it neatly over the back of one of the dining chairs. Grabbing one of the rabbits he brought it to the kitchen counter to start dressing it, fighting the urge to turn his head as he heard you enter the room.

“Come on, Joel,” you whined, “Why won’t you teach me?”

“Told you already,” Joel replied, “Nothin’ good comes from learnin’ to shoot things.”

Shifting the rabbit around on the counter he reached for the butcher knife in the knife block.

“You know, that’s a really stupid way of saying you don’t want to spend the time,” you told him, your voice closer now as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“When exactly did ya hear me sayin’ I don't wanna spend time with you?” Joel asked, his eyebrows pulled together in a frown.

“You won’t teach me to shoot,” you teased, and Joel could hear the smile in your voice.

Joel huffed out a laugh, “Damn right I won’t.”

He heard you let out a whiney huff, before you turned on your heel, muttering out a curse under your breath when you accidently bumped your hip into the counter and Joel couldn’t help the smile teasing at his lips. You sat down with an overdramatic sigh, and Joel still didn’t look at you – he knew he’d cave eventually if he did, say yes against his better judgement – so he kept his eyes on the knife in his hand.

“How’s Arthur?” Joel asked as he worked.

“I don’t know,” you sighed, “The same I think– Alma was up there looking after him last time I checked.”

This time Joel allowed himself to look at you. You sat sideways on the wooden chair, legs crossed and tucked under your chair with your head hanging, eyes glued to your lap. Gone were the teasing, and gone were the smiles.

“He’ll be fine,” Joel said, his eyes back on the rabbit, “it’s just a cold.”

“Yeah… but he’s been getting sick a lot more often,” your voice was low, like you didn’t want them to hear you upstairs, “you can’t help but think the worst you know?”

Joel put the knife down and moved over to the sink. He quickly washed his hands before grabbing a towel to dry off, twisting it in his hands as he approached you. Placing the towel on the counter, he hesitated for a moment as he watched you, watched the way you twisted your hands in your lap with no sense of purpose or intent. It was like the worry dripped down your body. Pushing off the counter Joel knelt in front of you, a grunt escaped him as his knees clicked loudly, his balance slightly off on his haunches.

“Shit,” Joel huffed out a laugh, and you followed. Your palms landed on his knees to keep him steady, warmth spreading like jolting electricity.

“Sweetheart, I’ll tell you what–” he stopped himself when you looked at him through your lashes, trying to ignore the way your eyes focused on his mouth as he spoke. “’s just a cold, he’ll be up ‘n walkin’ tomorrow– man’s got gumption.”

“Yeah?” your eyes flickered upwards, meeting his.

Suddenly, under your gaze Joel felt brave. His hand moved on its own accord, cupping your cheek in his hand. He let his thumb ghost over your skin, still cold under his fingertips from being outside, but warming under his touch.

“Yeah, sweetheart.”

You didn’t say anything for a moment, you only watched him with glimmering eyes, like you were under a spell. Maybe he was too.

“Still,” you sighed, “Would be better if I could pick up more of the slack around here... Arthur does a lot, and I wish I could do more to support them.”

“Like what? You take care of the animals all by yourself– that’s more than enough.”

“Well, I could learn to shoot rabbits,” you told him, before the corners of your mouth pulled into a pleased smirk as he rolled his eyes at you.

Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away, making a move to stand when you grabbed his wrist, stopping him.

“I’m kidding, Joel,” you smiled, before a more serious look washed over your features. “I mean it’s… It’s gonna be empty here without you,” you said, “I’m starting to really like having you here, Joel.”

Joel turned his hand to rest the back of it on your thigh, your hand fitting in his.

“I uh,” his eyes fixated on your joined hands, then he cleared his throat, “I’ll stay as long as you need me to. I’m not leavin’ you alone, sweetheart.”

Your eyes lit up at his words, smile growing large across your face. Joel’s heart drummed in his chest as your eyes flickered down to his mouth again.

“Thank you,” you said in a low voice, and then you did something Joel thought was gonna make his heart stop beating. You leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. It bloomed against his skin, and made wings flutter against the walls of his stomach.

“You’re a good man, Joel Miller,” you whispered before you pulled away, looking at him with kindness in your eyes.

If only you knew, Joel thought, if only you knew the blood on his hands.

He couldn’t look at you when you looked at him like that. Like you believed your own words. So, he cleared his throat awkwardly and stood to his feet, his knees clicking as your hand slipped from his movement. He walked back to the counter, fingers grabbing the towel with no other purpose than to calm himself down.

After placing the towel back where it usually hung, he grabbed the knife again, turning his attention back to the rabbit, allowing himself to steal a few glances at you where you sat looking out the kitchen window.

“Hey, uh,” Joel broke the growing silence after a few minutes, “how ‘bout rabbit stew for lunch?”

Your head snapped to look at him as he spoke, a smile ghosting over your lips as you said, “I’ll go get some vegetables from the cellar.”

Joel wouldn’t necessarily call himself a good cook – he wouldn’t even call himself a cook in the first place. Back before the outbreak he’d been forced to learn the basics as a fresh single dad, but he’d never been able to provide Sarah with gourmet meals very often, and when Sarah had gotten older, he’d been embarrassed to say that her food was always better than his – eggshells and all. One summer he’d bought himself a nice grill– one of those way too expensive gas grills with too many fancy accessories for Joel to regularly use. He’d had a job that ended up paying well, some rich guy’s mansion that needed renovating, and decided to treat himself for once. That summer all their meals had come from that grill, well mostly, and afterwards Joel looked at himself as a pretty good griller, if nothing else.

You on the other hand, you knew what you were doing, it was clear in the effortlessly way you moved beside him as you got the vegetables ready for the stew. Joel seared the meat to the best of his abilities, making sure it was properly browned on both sides before setting it aside. After that, it was clear that you were in charge, and Joel let you boss him around and tell him what to do. It made his heart warm around the edges, watching how you put so much love and care into everything you did.

An hour later you finally sat down to eat; two hearty bowls of stew each as light snowflakes covered the world outside. You’d let the pot simmer on low over the heat as you’d wanted to bring up a bowl for Arthur and Alma later.

“So…” you started, watching as Joel dug into his bowl, “How’s the stew?”

“’s good!” Joel nodded through a mouthful, and he wasn’t lying. It was good, really good in fact.

“Yeah?” you bubbled through a smile, before you dug into your own bowl to see if he’d spoken the truth. He watched as you face brightened as you chewed, nodding your head to confirm his verdict.

“I think I really like rabbit, Joel,” you said through a teasing smile, and Joel couldn’t fight the chuckle from spilling.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, teasing smile not going anywhere, “So… when are you teaching me to shoot?”

“Shut up.”

The living room was quiet, safe for the cracking of the fire. It had almost died out when Joel had stepped out of his room. He’d been twisting and turning again, counting sheep, but nothing had been able to pull him under the blanket of sleep. He was plumb tired too, that was the worst part. The embers hummed with a low light, and with a small stick Joel had spread them out before placing a small piece of wood on top. No less than a minute later the fire fed on the log.

Taking a seat and leaning back in the lounge chair, Joel looked out the window with tired eyes. The moon looked down on him, big and bright, it shone its white light over the barnyard like a spotlight. His thoughts were clouded over as he gazed up. A billion little lights turning into bright spheres in the sky.

On nights like this, Joel felt like he was barely breathing at all.

His thoughts didn’t stray for long before they found you again. Lately, you were always on his mind. He thought about how you’d looked mere hours ago, when he’d sat in this same exact chair, only this time it was facing towards the sofa and not the window.

You’d been sat curled up in the corner, blanket thrown over your lap with a book in hand. You’d told him you’d read all the books in the house already, but it didn’t stop you from coming back to your favorites. Joel had been reading his own book, an old western he’d found in the bookshelf in the upstairs hallway a few days ago. It was entertaining, but not enough to hold his attention. He found his eyes had a mind of their own, slipping over the top to steal a peek at you as you read, feeling a smile tug at his lips at the barely there furrow of concentration between your eyebrows.

“Joel.”

Joel perked up at the whisper of his name, the memories fading like ripples in still water. He looked around the room –nothing. He sat quietly in his chair for a moment, listening, as his heartbeat quickened in his chest. It had been your voice, hadn’t it? Or was he starting to lose it? His eyes fell to the door of your bedroom. He hadn’t noticed it until now, but he could see it was slightly ajar.

“Joel.”

The voice was louder this time, almost strained, but it was yours. A thousand scenarios flashed before his eyes then at your tone. Was there someone in your room? Were you in danger? Seconds later Joel crossed the room, a mix of fear and protectiveness overcoming him.

Leaning up against your door he listened for the intruder as he readied himself. The soft crinkling of your sheets combined with your strained whimpers was all it took for him to push the door open, fearing the worst.

And…

It was empty, your room, you were alone. Joel immediately felt stupid– the only intruder here was him.

He was about to step out, embarrassed at his actions, when he heard it again, his name falling from your lips. It was all Joel needed to finally take in your body, squirming under your sheets, still asleep. The realization of what he’d just walked in on made Joel’s eyes widen.

Laying on your back, the duvet had slipped down your torso from your movements to reveal the thin t-shirt you wore to bed. Like this he could see your perked nipples through the fabric, as your chest quickly rose and fell, making Joel’s imagination start to run wild.

“Joel.”

In his pajama pants, Joel could feel his cock come alive from the soft whimper that left your lips along with his name. He couldn’t move, like some farm elf had glued his feet to the floor while he wasn’t looking. He watched as you scrunched your face together in pleasure, another whimper falling from your lips, and all the blood in Joel’s body rushed down south.

As if the soundwaves from your voice had broken against him, he took a step backwards, and then another, and another until he crossed the threshold of your door. He tried his best to be quiet, to not wake you and have you catch him in your room in the middle of the night.

The image of you squirming under your sheets, dreaming of him, didn’t leave him as he closed the door to his own room. With a sigh his head fell against the door, a strong hand gliding down his front to hover over his aching cock.

Joel Miller was no saint, but what he was doing– what he was about to do, was bad.

“Shit,” he quietly hissed, running his hand up his clothed cock. He hadn’t touched himself properly in a long time, not since he left Boston.

His cock reacted to his touch, growing harder and harder until he couldn’t take it anymore. He hooked his finger around the hem of his pajama pants, pulling them down to the thick of his thigh, freeing himself. He hissed at the cold air hitting his length, as it bopped with the movement of being freed. Bringing his hand to his mouth, Joel spat, before he wrapped his spit-soaked hand around himself.

His mind found you again as he started stroking himself, slowly at first, pumping himself with a practiced hand, squeezing himself at the base before bringing his hand up to thumb at the tip. Joel couldn’t get the way you sounded out of his mind. Couldn’t forget how you were squirming in your bed, dreaming of him. Couldn’t shake the thought of pulling those moans and whimpers from you with his hands, and his mouth, and with his cock.

“Fuck.”

Joel tried to be quiet, but he couldn’t fight the moan from slipping from his lips. Fuck, he wanted you. He wanted his hands all over you. Closing his eyes his mouth dropped open as he imagined what he was dying to do to you.

How much he’d wanted to help you out of your t-shirt, run his hands over your breasts and tease your nipples. Take his time to pull those moans and whimpers from your soft lips as he teased you with kisses down your body, down the valley of your breasts, your tummy, down to you to your–

Another low moan fell from Joel’s lips. He squeezed himself tighter as he jerked himself off, precum pearling at the tip, and slipping down his length, mixing with his spit.

The sound of the slick rhythm of his hand filled his bedroom as he increased the pace of his strokes. He had to bite down on his lip to strangle a groan when thoughts of getting between your legs, spreading them open and getting his mouth on you filled his head. He fantasized about how you’d taste falling apart on his tongue–Fuck, how you’d sound falling apart around his cock.

His eyes fell shut as he fisted himself faster. Joel could feel his orgasm quickly building, coiling tight in his tummy. With his free hand he cupped his balls, and then he couldn’t help but imagine it was you, a picture of you on your knees before him flashed behind his eyelids, your tongue lapping at his balls while your hand pumped his cock.

“Shit.”

With a strained groan, thick ropes of cum spilled over his knuckles and down his length, coating him in his release. His breath came out ragged, as he continued his strokes, milking himself of the rest of his release.

Fuck.

His cock softened in his hand as he calmed down from his high. With a quiet groan he pushed himself off the door, looking around his room for something to clean himself up with.

The guilt of what he’d done washed over him quickly, settling in his chest like a heavy weight. You were so young, and beautiful, and Joel just an old man. He shouldn’t want you like this, shouldn’t want you this much.

Climbing under the covers, Joel couldn’t shake his thoughts of you, of you dreaming about him in your bed, about your smiles, and your touch. A supercut of you rolling like a tape in his minds eye. A supercut of you bundled up under a blanket on the sofa, knitting him his mittens. Of you, your own knitted hat pulled tightly down over your ears as you stepped out into the snow to check on the animals. Of the way you’d looked at him for the first time, with the bucket of apples under your arm, and the sweet taste of them as you’d offered him one later, after dinner.

Finally, Joel could breathe.

next part -> here! i hope someone liked this? if you did a comment, reply or an ask is always welcome and they make me super happy <3 other than that thank you for reading!!

#joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #joel miller smut #joel miller angst #joel miller fluff #tlou smut #tlou fanfiction #the last of us smut #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal

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dixons-sunshine · 6 months ago

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Sweetest | Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Summary: Wounded and benched from runs for the week, Daryl was asked to watch the kids in the prison while you and some of the others worked on repairing a breach in one of the fences. One of the kids asked Daryl how he met you, his wife, and it made for a rather sweet tale.

Genre: Fluff.

Era: Prison, pre season 4.

Part of the Shopping Spree, Hangout Dreams AU.

Warnings: None.

Word count: 1.6k.

A/n: This turned out worse than I hoped, better than I expected. I don't really know how to explain it, but I hope you like this! (Thank you @ddamm and @dixondystopia for giving me your favourite moments from the entire series to add to this! They were pretty much the same, so great minds truly do think alike, as they say.)

“Mr Dixon?”

At the sound of his name being called, Daryl looked up from his baby girl and locked eyes with a little girl—Mika, he believed her name was—who was staring at him with a big smile. “Yeah?” he replied, slightly bouncing his knee when Hazel began fussing a little.

Mika giggled slightly, sharing a look with her sister, Lizzie, before turning back to the archer. “Mrs Dixon is your wife, right?” she inquired, bouncing slightly on her feet.

Daryl's lips involuntarily twitched up at the mere mention of you. He nodded and shrugged his shoulders. “Yeah? Why do ya ask?”

“Well, my dad likes to talk about how he met my mom. Mr Greene has told us how he met his last wife a million times. We wanna know how you met Mrs Dixon!”

Almost as if for added emphasis, the other children all perked up and voiced their interest in knowing the tale of how Daryl met you, his beautiful wife. The archer, both amused by the children's nosiness and embarrassed by the metaphorical spotlight he was placed under, let out a small scoff and adjusted Hazel in his arms, allowing the small girl to happily toy with his fingers. “It ain't some big love story or nothin'. It'll only bore ya.”

“No, it won't,” Carl added from his position atop one of the tables. The teenager had been sulking because Rick had forbade him from helping fix the breach in the fence—where several walkers had managed to crawl through—but the chance of getting to know some insight to one of the most talked about couples in the prison brightened his mood somewhat. You and Daryl were the only couple that dated back before the outbreak, and everyone was eager to know how the two of you got together, and how you managed to keep that spark alive. “We wanna know. Come on, Daryl. Please.”

Daryl let out a small groan and rolled his eyes at the young Grimes' insistence. “Why dun' y'all go pester Glenn or somebody? M'sure he'd be more than happy to tell y'all 'bout how he met Maggie.”

“But he's told us that story a zillion times already,” one of the kids groaned. “We wanna hear your story. Please, Mr Dixon.”

Daryl let out a deep sigh. From somewhere behind him, he could hear Carol chuckle, closely followed by the chuckles of a few of the adults that were taking a break from their chores around the prison. Daryl shook his head and pursed his lips. “Y'all really wanna hear?” Almost instantly, all of the kids perked up and simultaneously voiced their clear interest, trying to talk over the other. Daryl raised his eyebrows and let out a small chuckle. “Woah, calm down. I ain't sayin' nothin' 'til y'all quiet down.” And just like that, it got so quiet, one could hear a pin drop. “Y/n and I go back many years, long 'fore all'a y'all kids were born. We're closin' in on three decades'a knowin' one another.”

“Thirty years?” Carl voiced in a disbelieving tone. “That's basically forever!”

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “Guess ya can say tha', yeah.” Daryl shushed Hazel when she began fussing a bit, lightly tickling her stomach to coax a laugh from her. “We met when we were twelve, 'side this river in the woods outside the trailer park we lived in. I admit, I didn't know wha' to think'a her at first. Refused to talk to her fer a whole month, but she never gave up. She kept pesterin' me 'til one day, somethin' happened and I broke my quiet facade. Tha's when we started becomin' friends.” Daryl stopped and tried to hide the smile that spread across his face, but to no avail. “She, uh... She quickly became my best friend after tha'.”

“When did you start love-liking her?” one of the kids asked with a giggle, closely followed by the mischievous laughter of the other kids.

Daryl hummed and shrugged. “After she did somethin' fer my sixteenth birthday. I liked her fer a while 'fore tha', but tha' occasion was my wake-up call. My feelin's fer her slapped me righ' in the face tha' day.” He stopped and let out a small sigh before continuing. “I didn't have the balls to confess to her fer 'nother year after tha'. And when I did confess, it was righ' after we went and bought pa—” Daryl cut himself off, painfully aware of the immature teenage boys that would freak out over the mere mention of pads. Because of that, he altered the truth a little. “...Pasta fer dinner tha' nigh'. Things escalated and we kissed, and then her mom walked in.”

“No,” Beth gasped, slightly tightening her grip on Judith as she thought of the embarrassing scenario.

Daryl chuckled and shrugged. “It was embarrassin' as shi—crap, tha's fer sure, but we lived. Her mom was nice 'bout it all. Definitely didn't mean we could escape her teasin', though.” He pursed his lips as he thought of that moment, the embarrassment still fresh in his mind, even all those years later. “Her teasin' got even worse when Y/n and I eloped. She was kinda upset 'bout it, but she soon went straight back to teasin' us fer not bein' able to wait to have a proper weddin'.”

By that point, unbeknownst to the archer, the group that had been working on fixing the fence—a group that included you—had silently stepped into the part of the prison everyone was in to alert the kids to the fact that they could go play. However, once they heard what the crossbow-wielding man was talking about, they stopped and remained quiet, eager to hear about it all. And you stayed quiet as well, quite shocked that your husband was willingly telling stories about his past with you. He preferred to keep that part of his life private, but there he was, happily talking away. It made your heart swell with love and affection for the man.

“The two of you stayed together for all those years?” Zach—Beth's boyfriend—asked, leaning against the wall. When Daryl nodded, he continued. “How?”

Daryl shrugged and adjusted his daughter in his arms again, feeling her head begin to droop as she was beginning to fall asleep. “I love 'er. And fer some reason I still don't understand 'til this day, she loves me. Ain't tha' hard to stay committed to the person ya love the most. Relationships ain't always all sunshines and rainbows, but when yer with the person ya love, s'all worth it. Y/n taught me tha'. She's the sweetest person ever. I dun' know wha' I did to deserve her, but I thank my lucky stars every day tha' I get to call her mine.”

It went silent after that. The only sound that could be heard was the distant sound of walkers groaning outside the fences. That is, until Rick spoke up from behind the huntsman, startling him and alerting him to the fact that essentially everyone had heard him practically rave about you.

“Well said, brother. Well said,” Rick complimented him, a faint, teasing smile on his face. He turned towards the younger ones in the group and gestured towards the door. “Y'all can go play now. Just stay away from the fences.” And just like that, all the kids—except Carl—had forgotten their need to hear about Daryl's love story with you. They all excitedly darted out the door, their laughter fading as they disappeared out the doors.

Michonne smirked, playfully hitting you on the back. “Y/n, you never told me you found such a keeper. And you found him early on, too. You're so lucky.”

“Yeah, she is,” Carol chipped in, a teasing smile on her face as well. “Did I ever tell you about this one guy in our old camp that insulted her and Daryl instantly put him on his ass? He did accidentally reveal her pregnancy while doing so, but that's besides the point.”

“Was it Shane?” Rick asked, sighing when Carol nodded. “Yeah, of course it was,” he mumbled while he shook his head.

“Not to mention how he nearly killed Jenner because he wouldn't let us out—well, wouldn't let them out. He didn't care much for us back then. We all know he only wanted the doors open so that Y/n was safe,” Glenn piped in.

“Aw,” Michonne cooed teasingly. “That is so sweet, Daryl. You're just a big teddy bear.”

Daryl ducked his head in embarrassment as the others joined in on the teasing as well. He could feel his cheeks flush, and he would've gotten up and bolted from the embarrassing situation, had it not been for the fact that Hazel had just fallen asleep, and he didn't want to wake her.

The feeling of your hand being rested on his shoulder almost instantly made him calm down, your familiar touch bringing a sense of comfort to him. The rest of the group were to busy relaying their favourite moments they had seen between the two of you to notice this interaction, and the archer was glad about that. He was also glad that they couldn't hear what you whispered in his ear, because although Daryl Dixon wasn't a selfish man, the others didn't have to hear these words you clearly meant just for him:

“I'm proud of you. You climbed out of your shell today and did something I know you don't always enjoy doing. You're amazing, Daryl Dixon, and I love you so much.” You placed a soft, tender kiss on his cheek. “You really are the sweetest person ever.”

©dixons-sunshine 2024. I do not give permission for my works to be copied, modified, adapted or translated to any other site or platform without evidence of my given consent.

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lamentationsofalonelypotato · 2 months ago

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Chapter 1: I Need You Now But I Don't Know You Yet

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!Reader, Reader POV

Summary: With a birthday printed on your wrist that happened over a hundred years ago, you always thought that you were cursed to never meet your soulmate. But when you finally meet the man that's supposed to be the other half of your soul, you wonder if the stars were wrong, and wonder how this man was meant for you. Reader is Hughie's sister, is not a supe, and is a Literature Professor that gets dragged into the middle of things. This fic takes place in an AU set loosely after Season 3 and does deviate from the plot of The Boys

Tropes: Soulmate AU, Little bit of Grumpy and Sunshine, Age Difference (Reader is in her 20s), Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Jealous Ben/Soldier Boy

Warnings: Self deprecating thoughts, Little bit sad, Cursing, Mentions of drinking, Mentions of Sex, Mentions of Death, Loneliness, Longing, Basically the reader just wants to be loved, Reader wears glasses?, Soldier Boy might be a little OOC.

Word Count: 6.3K

Song Inspiration For Chapter: IDK You Yet (Title of chapter based on song) Y'all should listen to this song because it fits so well!

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal Monologue Is in First Person And Is In Italics

A/N: Guys you have no idea how excited I am about this story! It's already shaking up to have a TON of my usual angst, but I'm not surprised.😅 I'm also a little disappointed. I read a soulmate AU fic forever ago for Joel Miller where the birthday was printed on the reader's arm and I cannot for the life of me remember what it was called or find it. If y'all know what it is, please let me know. I'd love to read it again and give the writer a little bit of credit for inspiration. ❤️

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

January 24, 1919

The date on your right wrist haunted you, the bold black numbers mocking from the moment you learned what they meant. It had to be a celestial mistake, a misprint, something wrong in the stars that shone so brightly over others, but dulled above your head.

Sometimes you thought you were cursed, that some mystical being before your birth marked you, scarred you, and made you carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders.

That whoever it was made you different on purpose and you hoped one day you understood what that purpose was.

You'd never met someone born with the same dilemma, to be saddled with a soulmate that was born over 100 years ago, and yet here you were.

You'd heard it all growing up, the hushed whispered "freak" from your schoolmates, the odd looks from your neighbors, the pitying frowns of your parents who had known each other since pre-k, and the hug from your older brother as he whispered the familiar phrase “it‘ll be okay" to soothe you.

But you always wondered…

When would it be okay?

You watched all your friends find their happy endings with their soulmates, the birth years printed on their wrists at least within the same few decades, but not you.

You were alone, different, cursed.

The date printed on your wrist made you different, because no one else had a soulmate that was born so far in the past.

Your soulmate's birthday brushed on your skin only brought a wave of disappointment every time you saw it, because what the hell did it mean? 1919? That meant that your soulmate would be over 100 years old when you met him, whoever it was.

If you even met him.

No one lives that long. My soulmate should be long dead. He can't still be alive. Can he?

Each year that passed was like another nail in the coffin, but you celebrated the birthday of your supposed soulmate with a cupcake and a beer, locked away in your apartment to shut out the jeers of those who knew your particular dilemma. And each year when you blew out the candle you wished that it would be the year you met him, but now you weren't sure it would ever happen.

Because it was impossible.

You didn't understand why you were different, why you were chosen to have a soulmate that was long dead. Maybe it was true, maybe you were born late, born under the wrong sign, or maybe you really were cursed.

You'd heard the stories of people who never found their soulmates, urban legends really, but it didn't make you feel any better. The stories of people who wasted away to nothing, driven to the point of insanity because they never found the other half of their soul, alone for as long as they could stand it before they finally crumbled to dust.

You refused to be like them, turning to books for solace and hoping to escape. Slipping into the pages and into other worlds where people found their other half to leave the loneliness that haunted you behind.

And in that solace your found your true love, literature. It wove around you and brought you peace in a world where you felt lost and different.

When you moved away from the small town you grew up in, you got a job as a Literature professor, reading the great works of others, while trying to forget about the date on your wrist and the soulmate you longed for each day.

It was incredibly lonely to think that you'd live your whole life with only one half of your soul.

Every time you opened a book from the era your soulmate was supposed to be born in you wondered if he had read it, wondered what it was like to live in that time, and imagined what it would have been like to be there with him.

Each day you covered up the date on your wrist with a splash of foundation and playfully laughed it off whenever someone asked you if you'd found your soulmate yet. All the while spending year after year fading just a little bit more as you lost the last pieces of hope that you'd ever meet him.

One Year Ago

You were running late. Frankly you were always running late, but in the city that never sleeps it was to be expected.

It was supposed to be a big day. You had about a hundred papers to grade, a test to proctor, and three lectures to give, but you couldn't complain about your job, you loved it. Loved the groans of your students whenever you announced a test or an essay, loved the soft evenings where you read papers with a cup of tea and learned what in the assigned text was special to your students, and loved to teach from the books that had become home to you, the books that tried to heal your wounded heart.

But today something was different.

Something nagged at the back of your mind, as if you had forgotten that something else was supposed to happen today.

Haircut? No that's not it.

You think as you walk to the large wooden desk in your living room/bedroom. It was technically a dining room table, breakfast table, and your desk, but you'd loved it since the moment you found it tucked into a corner of an antique store in Brooklyn.

Your small studio apartment was quaint, the bedroom and living room divided by a large mid-century wooden screen that you had bought for twenty bucks at a thrift store the weekend you moved into your apartment five years ago. The living room only housed a plump cream colored couch that faced out the window towards the living room window that gave you a spectacular view of the alley between your apartment building and the next. Sometimes you got to watch the couple in the apartment across from you having a terrific fight and then got a front row seat to the loud make-up sex they had almost immediately after.

Large stacks of books dominated every wall stretching up as high up to the ceiling as they could reach, some were pressed against the exposed brick walls, others serving as the base for the coffee table you’d made with a vintage window, and of course there was one stack that towered high above your bed on top of your bedside table. You didn't own a tv, not when you spent most of your time reading.

Being a English professor meant that you could never have too many books not when they were like old friends that pulled you in whenever you opened their yellowing pages.

Meeting with the head of the English department? You bite the inside of your cheek as you shove your notebook, planner, pencil case, and laptop into your leather messenger bag. No, that's on Thursday.

You'd been working on a research paper that you hoped to publish about the Modern Period of Literature in America, but the head of the English Department wanted to see how much you'd done. In all honesty the only reason why you'd started studying the Modern Period of literature was because it was supposedly the time period in which your soulmate grew up and you thought that it would give you some insight into what his life was like.

And despite your being an expert on that time period, the head of the English Department did not share your enthusiasm for it. The only thing the head of the English Department had any enthusiasm for was his self-published book of erotic poetry and staring at your legs for too long while making subtle attempts for you to sleep with him even though he was married.

You fight the wave of revulsion with the memory of the last time you had a meeting with him and give yourself a once over in the mirror hanging on the bathroom door that faces in to your living room. You looked the way that you always did, maybe a little more frantic than usual, but that was expected given the fact that you were running late.

Today you had decided to wear your favorite dark green chunky sweater that you'd knitted yourself, a dark gray argyle midi-skirt, chestnut brown ankle high-heeled leather boots, and your traditional pair of circular black-rimmed glasses.

It's going to be a good day. You smile at your reflection. Yeah, if I could remember whatever the hell it is I've forgotten.

You roll your eyes and grab a bagel from the bag on the counter.

No time to toast it.

You think mournfully before shoving it between your teeth as you run out the door, slamming it behind you so hard that it rattles the watercolor botanical framed prints on the inside wall of the apartment.

"Late again?" Your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson, asks opening the cheerful yellow door of her apartment.

She was wearing her traditional pink cat eye glasses and had her wavy gray hair pushed back by a floral headband. When you'd moved in five years ago, she had brought over some cinnamon swirl muffins and a pot of blueberry tea. She'd just lost her own soulmate and husband of sixty-five years and was looking for a friend about as much as you were.

And although she had about eighty cats, all of which who were named after literary figures (your own cat was named Heathcliff), and often smelled like mothballs, you enjoyed spending time with her. She knew about your dilemma and didn't judge you for it. She didn't throw you a pitying look or make outrageous comments about why you'd been chosen to never meet your soulmate. If anything she acted like the way you thought your mother always should but never did. Not with judgement as your mother did, but with concern and love.

"Always." You shout back, muffled around the sesame seed bagel, stamping your foot to get your boot in the right position.

"Tea later?"

"Mhmm."

"Get some earl gray macaroons!"

You make it down the stairs successfully without falling, before throwing yourself against the door that leads into the black and white tiled lobby. Your high heeled boots clack loudly against the floor and you step out onto the crowded sidewalks of the early morning.

Fall was just beginning in the city, your favorite season. The leaves in Central Park were turning reddish brown and yellow and there was a wonderful chill that swept through the crowded streets.

You wove through the people, walking in the direction of NYU and looking down at the antique wristwatch perched on your left wrist to confirm what you already knew- that you were going to be late for your 8:00 am lecture on 20th Century American Romantics.

Shit.

The city is lively for a Monday morning. The chatter of people on phones, the buzz of traffic, the high pitched screech of horns, and the smells of the city wafted over you. It was so different from the small town you grew up in, but you loved being here. Here no one knew you, no one judged you, no one muttered something under their breath about you, and no one grabbed their children and crossed the street as if you were contagious.

You felt free.

You round the corner still looking down at your watch, weaving in and out of the foot traffic the best you can, when someone bumps into your shoulder. Whoever hit you was solid, broad, and much taller than you. The bagel drops from your mouth as you jostle from the bump, and you let out a low groan.

There goes my breakfast.

You look up prepared to curse out the offender when you stop. Whoever it was hadn't stopped moving, but you catch a flash of his bright green eyes as he passes, meeting yours for only a moment.

But that moment seems to last a lifetime.

He was tall with wild dark brown hair so long it touched his shoulders and a scraggly beard that fell over his chest almost to his collarbones. He looked dirty, almost worn, and was wearing a faded maroon track suit that had some writing on the sleeve in another language that you couldn't place. But his eyes were a brilliant green, so beautiful that they took your breath away.

As soon as his eyes meet yours, your skin hums, body lightening, warmth unfurling like the petals of a flower in the center of your chest curling outward reaching for the sun above. All sounds of the city vanish, leaving you only with the manic thud of your heart. Everything in your body turns towards the man, cells vibrating, reaching out, wanting more, begging you to grab him and hold him close. Electricity pulses and dances along your skin making your hair stand on end and goosebumps erupt along your flesh.

The birthday inscribed by the stars on your wrist sears against your skin like a brand beneath the foundation you smeared over it this morning. You look at him as if seeing for the first time, as if the past years of your life have been colorless, as if you'd been living in a cave for centuries and he's your first glimpse of sunlight, and as if you'd never seen the stars and he's the midnight sky.

You'd never felt any of this before.

The man's eyes widen as he looks at you, people passing between the two of you in a faceless blur, and you wonder if he feels it too.

He has to…

But the man shakes his head and turns his back on you continuing on his path down the sidewalk in the opposite direction, adjusting the strap of the bag on his shoulder as he goes.

"Wait-" You start to say, but your phone rings loudly in your pocket breaking the spell, and as you look down to retrieve it, you lose the man in the crowd.

What the hell just happened?

The rest of your day is chaotic, almost a blur, your body still humming from seeing that man on the street, wrist aching where the birthdate on your wrist burned against your flesh so hot that it seared through the foundation you brushed meticulously over the skin this morning to cover it up. It was no longer black, but flashed a brilliant gold with every shift of your wrist in the light as you moved your arm when teaching, peeking out beneath the sleeve of your sweater. Every flash distracted you from your lecture. Even your TA, Tate, who sat in the front row of your class began to notice how often you lost your train of thought.

You barely got through your 8:00 am lecture, stumbled through you 9:00 and 10:15, and canceled your 2:00 class much to the chagrin of your students who were expecting a test.

When Tate finally asked you if you're feeling alright, you wave a hand and tell him to take the rest of the day off, while you barricaded yourself in your office and stared at your wrist for hours, running your hands over the golden date confused. The birthdays always shone gold after two people found one another, and when your soulmate died, it went back to black, as if a reminder that the world had faded.

It was weird to see it shine so brightly when you'd lived your whole life staring at the mark and wishing for it to go away.

But he's not here, he's gone. I don't know where he went or how to find him…

Your friends back home described finding their soulmates before, tried to explain to you what it was like when they locked eyes with them for the first time, but everyone was different. No one could describe exactly how they felt when it happened.

Deep down you thought that it should feel like what happened when you locked eyes with the man on the street, like nothing else existed, just him and you but-

He acted like it was nothing like I was just another person and not the other half of his soul.

You swallow the lump in your throat, emotion from a lifetime of disappointment building, and finally the tears begin to crest and fall over your cheeks. You'd never heard of a one sided soulmate before, of only one person feeling drawn to the other one.

Then again, I've never heard of someone printed with the date of a soulmate who was born so far in the past.

Seeing him for the first time was like taking a bullet to the chest, the sharp spike, followed by the force of gravity jolting you into reality.

But why him?

You think again about how weathered he looked, like he'd been living under a rock for the past hundred years. And then you see the flash of his brilliant green eyes again in your mind, just for a fleeting moment, but it's enough to make the warmth trail along your skin, like the soft caress of a lover.

Was he really born in 1919? Or was this just another joke? Another way for the universe to laugh at me?

Frustrated tears blur your eyes as you stroke the birthdate on your wrist, heart breaking all over again, because it seemed that even if you had found the man the universe designated for you, he didn't care.

One Year Later: Present Day

You sigh loudly and hold up another dress in front of your body looking at yourself in the mirror. You had no idea what you were going to wear to Annie and your brother Hughie's housewarming party and you only had about another thirty minutes before you had to leave.

Your brother had been living in New York longer than you had, but he still made time for you. The two of you got lunch every week and it was your fault that he met Annie.

Meeting her yourself had been a complete fluke. You'd been sitting at your favorite bench in Central Park by the pond, reading your favorite book, allowing the gentle prose of the author to whisk you away for a few minutes, when someone sat down beside you and promptly began to cry.

And when you asked her what was wrong she'd told you everything about her problems at work and although you'd never been the best at comforting other people, you'd taken her to the closest coffee shop and the two of you had bonded over Chai Tea lattes.

You'd invited her over to watch a movie with your brother one Saturday night and then had a front row seat when the two of them realized that they were meant to be together. You'd tried to be happy for them, but the whole time Annie gushed about Hughie and Hughie stared at her like she was the last glimpse of the sun before it dropped below the horizon all you could think about was that it would never happen to you.

And now one year later, the two of them were finally moving in together in a fancy apartment uptown and you didn't want to imagine what the rent was. Your own studio was enough for you and you were lucky enough to have one that was rent controlled.

But you figured due to Annie being one of the Seven, she was probably making more than your measly teaching salary could ever amount to.

Learning that she was Starlight had been surprising, you weren't a supe, not even close and you didn't want to be. You had your hands full with teaching college kids, and didn't want to think about what it would be like to have superpowers or really what you would do with them. You certainly didn't need them to be a teacher and you didn't want to have them.

Plus, you always worried that you'd get some weird power like shooting webs out of your butt or making it rain blood. You didn't want to take that chance and shooting up Compound V felt like Russian Roulette.

You also worried about your brother working so closely with supes. The two of you hadn’t met any growing up and you worried that he was putting himself in danger every day when he went out to deal with them. But you were happy that Annie went with him, because you knew that she wouldn't let anything happen to him, she loved him too much.

As you hold up a black dress in the mirror you see a flash of the golden birthdate on your arm, and you're unable to fight the emotion that builds in your chest when you do.

It had been a year since it happened, since you locked eyes with a complete stranger on the street and felt your soul intertwine with his and he turned his back on you.

You'd understood that.

Understood that for some reason he decided to turn away like you meant nothing to him, like you weren't the other piece of his soul, and like a part of him didn't call out to you, a lighthouse over a stormy sea to a sinking ship.

It had broken you more than the first time you realized what the date on your arm meant. It always seemed ridiculous that something that brought happiness to millions of others made you feel broken, like there was something wrong with you.

And in that moment on the street something felt right for a few seconds, you felt whole for the first time in your life, only to have everything dashed against the rocks all over again.

But you hadn't forgotten him, couldn't forget him. His green eyes haunted you and each night you dreamed of him.

You saw pieces of his life, his memories, felt his pain, his anger, his frustration, and deep down his fear whenever you fell asleep. You'd never heard of that before, of a soulmate dreaming the memories of another.

You'd asked your neighbor, Mrs. Charleson if she had dreams of her soulmate's memories, she'd said no, but then she said that she'd heard about it, thought that it was only a myth, but it meant that the souls were fated to spend more than one lifetime together.

As if you knew what that meant.

It had broken your heart even more when she said that, because if that were true why did he turn away?

How could he turn away? Why did he leave me standing in the street and acted like I wasn't his other half?

It made you think that maybe he wasn't impressed with you and that he was disappointed that you of all people were his soulmate.

You'd had a mental breakdown at Mrs. Charleson's apartment when you went home early the day you met your soulmate or whatever the hell he was.

She'd made blueberry tea and rubbed you back. And when the tea hadn't worked she had cracked a bottle of red wine and ordered greasy takeout food that the two of you ate on her floral couch while her cats circled like sharks looking for a piece of your chicken and broccoli.

You would have called Annie, but she and Hughie were out of town on a long weekend getaway.

And when you went back to your apartment and crashed into your bed, you'd dreamt of him for the first time.

The memories you'd seen when you closed your eyes that night were not happy at all. You'd seen the early years of his life being berated by his father, years of him drinking and fucking his sorrows away, and then the worst, him being tortured in what looked like a lab. He was a supe, that much you could gather from the memories. But they were filled with pain, suffering, frustration- you'd never met someone who'd been through so much before. Endured so much torture.

You still didn't know his name, didn't see enough of his life to figure out who he was, only that he was different than you in almost every single way. The memories were terrible, filled with blood, death, and pain. It scared you to see your soulmate that way, see him so angry and see him hurt and kill people. You couldn't imagine the kind of man he was, the kind of man who could burn someone beyond recognition and feel absolutely nothing.

It was confusing. You didn't understand how someone who was supposed to be the other half of your soul, was the complete opposite of you. Someone that was filled with so much rage and pain was the man the stars declared was for you.

It doesn't matter anyway. He saw you and didn't want you.

You ignore the lump of emotion in the back of your throat and hold up a navy blue dress, but you hang it back in your closet with a sigh. Nothing seemed to be appropriate for you to wear to the party and you hadn’t been shopping for a new outfit in ages. Not to mention you knew that no matter what you wore Annie would look flawless.

You loved your brother's soulmate, but sometimes you were intimidated by how pretty she was and how together she was. It made you a little self-conscious about the long skirts, sweaters, and blazers you wore when you were at work and you were not together at all.

You seemed to always be running around like a chicken with it's head cut off, frantically running from place to place and trying not to lose the last bit of sanity you had left. While Annie was confident, poised, and glided into each room.

Finally, you reach for a pair of your favorite blue jeans and the same green chunky knit sweater you were wearing the day that you saw him for the first time. The sleeves were long enough to cover the mark on the wrist. You hadn't told your brother or Annie about that day and you didn't want them to see the golden date on your wrist and ask you where your soulmate was.

Guess I'm going a little more casual today.

On your way out you give your cat, Heathcliff, an affectionate scratch behind the ears and grab your purse. You were running a little early this time, early enough to pick up a Snake Plant around the corner at your favorite plant shop, 'Please Don't Die,' as a housewarming gift and then stopped at the liquor store next door to grab a bottle of Annie's favorite wine.

You figured that you'd end up staying late and drinking wine with her long after the party was over.

Hughie opens the door of the apartment when you knock. "Thank God you're here! Annie is freaking out and driving me up the wall-"

"No I'm not! I'm just expressing all the things that have to be done within the next five minutes or I really am going to go crazy!" You hear his soulmate shout back when Hughie lets you in.

The apartment is fancier than yours, all white walls and glass windows that display a view you would kill for. Your brother is wearing a nice light blue button down shirt and navy tie, and his hair is it's usual fluffed and curly self. He looks happy and it warms a piece of your heart because you knew how much that he deserved it. And that's all you wanted for your older brother.

Annie appears, wearing a white dress that wraps over one shoulder and falls to her ankles, effortlessly elegant as usual. It made you feel self-conscious that you'd worn jeans, when Annie was wearing something that made her look like a Greek goddess.

"I am so underdressed." You mutter to yourself

"No! You look great babe. I love those jeans on you." She smiles pulling you in for a hug.

"Well-"

"But please let me do something with your hair." Annie touches the messy bun at the back of your head making a face.

"What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing, I'm just going to spruce it up a little bit for you."

"But-"

Annie pulls the bottle of wine and the plant from your arms and shoves them at Hughie. "We'll be right back." And with that she drags you to their shared bedroom.

20 minutes later your hair has been perfectly curled and styled by Annie's skillful hands. She'd even adjusted your make up so that now you're wearing a bold red lipstick and a dark eyeshadow that matches your ensemble. And even you have to admit that you look better than you did moments ago. You usually didn't wear that much makeup, sometimes it made you feel like you weren't you, but what Annie had applied seemed stylish.

"Thanks Annie."

"Of course." She smiles brightly and leads you back out into the large kitchen filled with stainless steel appliances and real marble countertops. "How have you been? Did you finish that paper you were writing?"

By now several people have already begun to gather at different parts of the apartment, talking quietly with one another, while sipping drinks and eating finger food. The sound of their chatter is masked by the Billy Joel song playing from the speaker in the corner.

"Yeah. I submitted it, now I'm just waiting for the department head to read it." You frown at the thought.

"You don't think he'll like it?" She moves to the freezer to grab a bag of ice.

"Dale doesn't like the modern period of literature as much as I do so I'm expecting him to have a lot of critiques and reasons why he doesn't like it." You take the bag from her and set it on the counter.

"Sorry."

"It's okay. I'm used to it. He's never ecstatic about my research work." The thought makes you frown. "Even though he knows it's my specialty and the reason why he hired me."

"Isn’t he the creepy married guy that keeps trying to take you to dinner and wrote all those sensual poems about women who sound nothing like his wife?"

"Yep."

"Ew." Annie's face scrunches up in disgust.

"My thoughts exactly." You sigh looking around the kitchen for an ice bucket. "Do y'all have an ice bucket somewhere or-"

"It should be in that cabinet." She points behind you just as you hear someone knock loudly on the front door.

"Perfect."

The ice bucket is acrylic, see-through, and light pink, but you find it easily. The ice clanks against the sides as you pour, not bothering to watch Hughie open the door for whoever it was that hit the front door of the apartment with so much force you thought it would cave in.

Annie leans against the counter pouring herself a glass of wine and groans to herself when she sees who Hughie was greeting.

"What's wrong?" You ask her, your tongue between your teeth as you try not to spill any of the ice over the perfect countertops.

"I didn't think he would come." She grumbles.

"Who?"

"Ben." Annie all but sighs the name.

"And why didn't you want him to come?" You ask, pouring more ice into the bucket.

"He's just kind of rough-"

"Rough?"

"He works with Hughie. He's a supe. Thinks he's the best thing since sliced bread or whatever.” She sighs again and takes a sip of her white wine to calm down. "Actually he used to be Soldier Boy."

"Soldier Boy? You mean the supe from the 80's that died?"

Hughie didn't tell me he had a dead man working with him.

"It's a long story." Annie waves her hand as if to dissipate the thought, but it doesn’t make you any less curious. "Now he works at the bureau with Hughie trying to keep supes in check. Usually he and Butcher bump heads."

"Oh."

Hughie didn't talk much about what he did with Butcher, or really who he met, but after Homelander disappeared and Stormfront took over as leader as the Seven more supes began to come out of the woodwork, supes that had been afraid before, but now had no one to keep them in check. And although The Seven were feared in the city, no one was feared as much as Homelander.

"I'm sure that he won't try anything Annie. And if he does I'll keep him in check." You smile at your friend.

It's her housewarming party and supe or no if he's a prick I'm going to kick his ass out. Annie doesn't deserve to feel stressed today of all days.

"Thanks babe."

"What are friends for?"

She squeezes your arm and walks away to talk with MM who stands with a little girl who must be his daughter. You'd only spoken to him a handful of times, but he was always eager to talk about her achievements in school. He was so proud of her that it made your heart warm. Her mother wasn't his soulmate, but there hadn't been any hard feelings between MM and his daughter's mother.

That wasn't unusual. You'd known several people who decided to date other people before meeting their soulmate as a way of passing the time. You'd always thought it was ridiculous to commit yourself to someone else and fall in love with them, only to have your heart broken when they met who they were meant to be with.

It was why you hadn't tried to date anyone, because you might have never met your soulmate, but the other person you'd be in a relationship with would. And you didn’t want to give your heart to someone only to have them leave you when they met their other half. Which meant that you were probably going to die alone, especially because your soulmate doesn't want you. It hadn't helped that you'd seen a few memories from your own soulmate with other women over the years, women that didn't look anything like you, women that seemed more confident, more beautiful, and more stylish than you.

Maybe that's why he didn't want me.

Your feel the familiar twinge in your chest when you thought that and fought the tears that burned when you thought of how happy Annie and Hughie were. You didn't want to cry at their party.

The familiar question rises in your head again:

When will it be okay?

Probably never.

You turn toward the freezer holding the now half-full bag of ice intent on putting it back when someone bumps into you. The bag slips from your hands and ice goes skittering across the perfect hardwood floors in every direction, but just when you start to drop to pick it up, you feel a large hand grip your shoulder.

A gasp escapes from your mouth as it makes contact.

As soon as the palm touches you, you feel nothing else, not the shift of the sweater against your skin, not the slight chill from the air conditioner, not the brush of your hair against your cheeks, all you feel is the warmth radiating through your clothes and soaking into your skin from the person's hand.

The hand moves to cup your chin gently, the shock of the person's skin touching yours makes the feeling increase ten-fold as the hand tilts your face up to meet the eyes of the person who bumped into you.

You know it's him before your eyes meet his, know that it's the man from the street who you saw for only a few seconds a year ago, but this time when his beautiful green eyes meet yours everything you felt that day comes roaring back.

He's taller than you remember, shoulders proud and broad stretching a dark gray button down shirt over his chest that have the sleeves rolled up revealing tanned arms. His hair is shorter, still dark brown, but now only long enough to cover the tops of his ears and his beard is shaved so that only a thick dusting covers his cheeks, but it's still him. And he's more handsome than any version you could come up with in your mind.

All sound in the room vanishes, the drone of chatter fades, the clinking of glasses disappears, the only sound that remains is your own heart thudding in your chest and you swear you can hear his beating at the same frequency, both of your hearts calling out to one another.

Your entire body feels like it's vibrating, as if every cell is moving so fast that they're heating you from the inside, leaving behind a molten puddle of what you used to be. A golden cord weaves around the two of you securing your heart to his in your mind, making you gasp as it hooks to his heart binding his soul to yours. Time stops as he gazes at you, something brightening in his green eyes as they absorb your own gaze.

The man doesn't move. It almost looks like he's stopped breathing, and you realize that you haven't taken a breath since he touched your shoulder. His eyes drop down to your right wrist where your hand rests over his heart, where he knows his birthday will be.

You don't remember reaching out to touch him, but now that you realize it, you can feel his heart beating beneath the palm of your hand like a fluttering bird, gentle and judging by the memories you had witnessed from him, nothing about this man was gentle.

"I've been looking everywhere for you sweetheart." The man rumbles, the words vibrating against your fingertips where they rest against his muscular chest. He smiles down at you and somewhere deep down you feel something break open that you thought was locked away long ago.

And as you stand there looking up at the man you thought you'd never see again, the autumn sun warm against your back, you feel a flicker of something that could grow into a blaze spark to life in your chest.

A/N: I hope y'all loved the first chapter as much as I loved writing it! I've never written a soulmate AU, so I am a little nervous about it, but I think that it's going to be a lot of fun! And yes, I did give Ben the same birthday as Dean Winchester (not the same year). In my head Ben is Dean from a different universe, and it just made sense to me. 😂

Thank you so much for reading! Reblogs, likes, and comments are not required, but are always appreciated! I love hearing what y'all think 😊 If you'd like to be added to the taglist for this series please let me know! :)

Taglist:

@pamwritessometimes @roger-that-cap @my-obsession-spn @deangirl96 @kr804573

@roseblue373 @52ndstreeet @mrsjenniferwinchester @impala67stellawinchester

#soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #jensen ackles #soldier boy #soldier boy x female reader #jensen ackles soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #the boys amazon #the boys fanfic #soldier boy fanfiction #soldier boy fic #soldier boy x y/n

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edenesth · 11 months ago

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The Way to His Heart [14]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.8k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 13 | Fic Masterlist | Part 15

"J-Jinjoo? Is that you?"

Your breath caught in your throat as you observed the scars scattered across her body, wounds that hadn't been there the last time you saw her. The severity of her punishment was evident, and judging by the marks, it seemed unlikely they would fade anytime soon, if ever.

The younger girl smirked bitterly, "Are you happy now? All five of us have been beaten nearly to death, left with scars that will likely never fully heal in this lifetime. Mother will serve until the day she dies, and the three of us will pay for a good chunk of our lives!"

As if anticipating your inquiry about the former minister, she shook her head and balled her fists, "Father has endured enough beatings and torture to render him almost paralysed, and guess what? He's been exiled to god knows where. If you want more details, perhaps you should ask your husband about it."

Your heart sank at the mention of Seonghwa, "Wh-what do you mean? Your punishments were determined by His Majesty. Why would my husband be involved—"

She scoffed incredulously, "Did you truly forget who General Park really is? He sat back and enjoyed the show while we suffered, allowing the torture to happen. That absolute monster—he did this to us; he ruined our lives forever. I mean, sure, we weren't great to you either, but look at you now, Lady Park. It's all thanks to us that you're who you are today."

Noting your silence, she continued with a sly edge, "Though I wouldn't celebrate too soon if I were you. Who's to say when he'll show his true colours once he's grown tired of you?"

Before you could respond, Hongjoong appeared at your side, his tone laced with disbelief, "Worry about yourself first, peasant. Oh, the audacity of this young lady. Do you even realise who you're addressing? How dare you try to twist this around and play the victim? You and your family got what you deserved. Count yourself lucky that you're still alive and well, hm?"

The dressmaker turned to signal the factory owner and the elderly man immediately rushed over anxiously, "S-sir, what brings you to this part of the factory? P-please, allow me to escort you out."

Halting the man, Hongjoong gestured towards your stepsister, "This one right here was being disrespectful to Lady Park. Would you mind teaching her a good lesson for me? Otherwise, I may have to reconsider our choice of fabric supplier."

Suddenly realising her mistake, Jinjoo trembled like a leaf under the owner's stern gaze. He bowed repeatedly at you and your friend, "O-of course, sir! Rest assured, I'll ensure she never forgets her manners again. You have my word!"

As Hongjoong guided you out of the store, you remained silent, your thoughts swirling from the disturbing revelation that the general had been involved in the punishments of your family.

Walking alongside the dressmaker, the weight of the revelation bore down on you like a suffocating blanket. The image of Seonghwa, once your loving husband, now tainted with the sinister aura of someone who could watch others suffer without flinching, haunted your thoughts. Sure, you were there to witness him extracting the confession from your father, but you never fathomed that he would actually be involved in the subsequent punishment.

Your stepsister's words echoed in your mind, stirring up a cocktail of dread and uncertainty. Could it be true? Have you really forgotten the true nature of General Park? The man you had once trusted implicitly now appeared in a new, unsettling light. The realisation sent shivers down your spine as you contemplated the implications.

Fear gnawed at your insides as you entertained the chilling possibility that if he could inflict such cruelty upon your family, what would stop him from doing the same to you if ever he grew displeased? The thought sent a chill down your spine, leaving you questioning everything you once believed about the man you loved.

Throughout the remainder of the day, you remained unusually quiet, your thoughts clearly elsewhere. Hongjoong opted not to pry, deciding to wait until you were back within the safety of your home before broaching the subject. Despite his efforts to lighten the mood and draw a smile from you, it seemed futile. He was acutely aware of the impact Jinjoo's words must have had on you, especially given your delicate emotional state. After enduring years of mistreatment, he could see how trusting others fully must be an immense challenge.

Later that evening as you sat down for dinner together, he finally broke the silence, setting down his chopsticks with a sigh, "What's on your mind, Lady Park? You know you can talk to me, right?"

You paused at his question, pondering whether to confide in him about your inner turmoil. How would he respond? Would he be disappointed in you? After all, the general was his close friend. It seemed likely he would take Seonghwa's side and defend him. Though your husband hadn't given you any reason to doubt his affection thus far, his decision to hide this information from you must carry some significance.

"It's nothing, Hongjoong. Maybe I'm just feeling a bit weary after our day out," You mumbled, resuming your meal and hurriedly stuffing more food into your mouth to avoid conversation. He frowned at your behaviour and gently intervened, placing a hand on yours, "Hey, hey, slow down. The food isn't going anywhere; it's all yours."

With his arms crossed over his chest, he shook his head disapprovingly, "Who are you trying to fool with that lie? You might be able to deceive anyone, even your dumb husband, but not me. You were perfectly fine until you ran into your... into her."

You froze, caught red-handed in your attempt to deflect. You should have known better than to think you could fool Hongjoong with such a feeble excuse. Instead of scolding you, he softened, uncrossing his arms and leaning in, his eyes full of understanding.

"Listen, I'm sorry I wasn't there by your side to defend you earlier. I should have prevented all of that from happening today; it's entirely my fault. When I heard what she said to you, I knew it would affect you. And now, seeing you like this, I can tell I was right. Don't you dare believe any of her ridiculous words, you hear me?"

Setting down your chopsticks shakily, you turned to face him, despair etched clearly on your features, "But Hongjoong, what if there's truth in what she was saying? Wh-what if he eventually grows tired of me? Will I end up suffering like all of them too?"

The dressmaker didn't have the heart to berate you, understanding your doubts despite the internal frustration he felt at your stepsister for undoing all the trust you had in Seonghwa with just a few words.

He released a deep breath and offered a smile, "Have you forgotten everything I've told you about how he's different when it comes to you? He would never do anything to hurt you; I can vouch for him. As ruthless as General Park can be, he reserves that side only for those who deserve it. Your family deserves every bit of the punishment they received for the harm they caused you. You shouldn't feel any guilt for them, you know?"

Hongjoong leaned in closer, his tone softening, "Trust me, she's just jealous of you. It's obvious she's envious of the life you have now, and she's intentionally trying to stir up trouble between you and your husband. Don't let her get to you. You and Seonghwa have something special, something she'll never understand."

As his words sank in, you felt a slight sense of relief wash over you. It did make sense that Jinjoo would resort to such tactics out of jealousy. After all, her resentment towards you had always been evident. You felt ashamed for entertaining the possibility of your husband hurting you when he had only ever been good towards you.

However, the memory of the scars on your stepsister's body lingered in your mind, knowing the ones on your father and stepmother were even worse than what you've seen. While you recognised that your family deserved the consequences of their actions, the realisation that Seonghwa had played a part in their suffering made you feel sick to your stomach. Your emotions were in disarray; it was difficult to act nonchalant after learning the unsettling truth.

Despite the turmoil raging within you like a storm, you didn't want to add to your friend's concerns. Putting on a smile, you nodded, "You're right, Hongjoong. I must be silly to let her words affect me like this." You forced a light chuckle and went back to your meal, hoping to change the subject.

Though the dressmaker felt somewhat reassured that you acknowledged his advice, he sensed you were still troubled by what you had learned. He could only hope that with time, you would be able to move past Jinjoo's words. The last thing Seonghwa needed upon his return from war was to find his beloved wife fearful of him.

Damnit, I shouldn't have taken her there.

"General Park hasn't arrived yet, you say? Well, who would have thought he'd become such a loving husband? This Lady Park must be quite remarkable for him to—"

Rolling his eyes, the general heard the familiar deep voice gossiping about him from outside the main tent, where meetings would take place. With a loud clear of his throat, he pulled open the flap and entered, his presence immediately causing everyone in the room to straighten up, "I'm here now, Mingi. It would be great if you could cease your idle chatter and get to work at once."

"S-sir! It's been a while, you look good—"

"Save it, Officer Song."

Acknowledging the command with a salute, the taller man swiftly proceeded to the central table, laying out numerous documents detailing the strategies he had developed, "Yes sir, here are some of the plans I've drafted thus far."

Seonghwa nodded approvingly and approached him. As he listened to his colleague's explanations, a satisfied smirk graced his lips, affirming his keen judgement in promoting the right individual.

General Officer Song had risen to become one of the most esteemed military strategists in Joseon, all thanks to General Park's recommendation. Your husband was notoriously difficult to impress, but Mingi's exceptional talents caught his attention during a particularly challenging battle many years ago. Despite being a mere low-ranking soldier at the time, he devised a brilliant plan that ultimately turned the odds in their favour, leading to an epic victory.

"Ruhon is known to be rash in their decision-making; their impulsiveness is evident in their sudden attack plans," The taller man explained, his fingers tracing over strategic points on the map, "We can capitalise on this by striking where they least expect us. Through my research, I've identified blind spots that will catch them off guard. May I have authorisation to deploy troops to these locations, sir?"

The general nodded decisively, "I have faith in your judgement, Officer Song. You've never let me down in all our years together; I'm confident this time will be no exception."

"Thank you, sir."

Once all the necessary arrangements had been finalised and everyone had been briefed on their roles, the meeting came to an end. While the other officers and soldiers hurried off to relay the information discussed and carry out their assigned duties, Officer Song lingered behind, sharing a knowing look with the general.

Taking a seat beside the person he considered his friend and mentor, Mingi offered a genuine smile, "Congratulations on your recent marriage, hyung-nim."

Returning the smile, Seonghwa gave the taller man a pat on the back, "Thank you, Mingi-yah. I hope you've been well these past few years. Once this is all over, might I hear news of your own wedding?"

Blushing faintly, the strategist shook his head, "Unfortunately, I haven't found my one yet. But I am happy for you, general. Everyone in Joseon seems to know about your new wife and her difficult past. I'm just glad you found each other. I heard you were granted a few days with Lady Park before coming here. How is she holding up?"

The mention of his wife brought a pang of discomfort, evoking memories of your heartbreaking farewell. Throughout his journey to the war site, your husband couldn't shake the image of your tear-stained face, "She's... she's handling it better than I expected, or maybe that's just what she's showing me. When I told her about my departure, she didn't break down. Instead, she smiled at me with understanding and simply asked when I would be leaving."

"Huh, did she really?" Mingi mused, a hint of admiration in his tone, "I suppose now I understand why you're so smitten with her. It seems she's truly as delightful as the rumours claimed." Even from the snippets of what he had heard, the strategist could tell that Lady Park was indeed an extraordinary person, and he could see why Seonghwa held you in such high regard.

With a nod, the general's expression grew sombre, "Indeed, she truly is. But I won't lie and say I'm not worried about her," He admitted, "When she first arrived, I treated her poorly. I mistook her for just another spoiled brat, only to learn she's suffered a life far worse than mine. I'll never forgive myself for that. From that moment on, I vowed to give her nothing but the best. You know, I had plans for a grand wedding, a chance to make up for everything..."

Officer Song's face mirrored your husband's solemnity as realisation dawned, "Then this war happened..."

"Yeah, but that's not all," Seonghwa continued, his voice heavy with worry, "I just... God, what if I don't return to her? I've only just found her..."

Bowing his head, the general felt overwhelmed by his concerns. Mingi placed a comforting hand on his friend's shoulder, "Have you forgotten who you are? You're General Park of Joseon, the King's most trusted warrior. If anyone can make it out of this war unscathed, it would be you. Trust me, you will make it back to Lady Park. And you better invite me to that wedding of yours." The strategist said, his words laced with a touch of humour.

Despite the weight of his worries, your husband chuckled softly, nodding gratefully at the reassurance, "Of course, Mingi."

Before the two could continue their conversation, a soldier barged into the tent, panting heavily, "General Park! Some of Ruhon's troops have been spotted approaching. We need you out there!"

Alright, let's get this over with.

Meanwhile, back in the general's estate, you found yourself in your usual spot in the pavilion. Lady etiquette books lay scattered around, forgotten as your gaze drifted distantly over the tranquil lotus pond.

Regardless of the overwhelming emotions that had consumed you the day before upon learning the truth about your family's punishments, you couldn't deny the longing in your heart for Seonghwa's presence. Being alone in the pavilion now felt even lonelier than before. Accustomed to his warm embrace, his absence left a void that seemed impossible to fill.

However, as you contemplated the absence of your husband's comforting presence, conflicting emotions surged within you.

No matter how hard you tried, you simply couldn't shake the unsettling realisation that the same hands that held you close were also stained with the blood of countless others. Hongjoong's reassurances echoed in your mind, yet a nagging doubt persisted. While he assured you that the general would never harm you, your moral compass grappled with the knowledge that he was capable of inflicting pain without hesitation, regardless of justification.

It just felt so... wrong.

"Ah, is this the famous lotus pond you've mentioned, Miss Jang?" The unexpected voice startled you out of your thoughts. Turning to confirm your suspicions, you let out a loud gasp at the sight of the fourth prince standing before you.

You scrambled to your feet immediately, performing the formal bow, "Y-your Highness! What brings you here?"

Rushing up behind Yeosang, the head maid panted heavily, bowing deeply before you and shooting an apologetic glance, "Mistress, I am so sorry for not alerting you of our guest! His Highness showed up spontaneously without making an appointment prior and wouldn't allow any of us to announce his arrival."

Eunsook nearly had a heart attack when one of the maids informed her that the prince had arrived unannounced, waiting to be greeted at the entrance of the estate. Jongho was absent, having gone out with a few other servants to replenish household essentials. Rushing over, she found that Yeosang had insisted on surprising you personally, leaving her flustered and anxious. With her master now at war, it was evident to her that His Highness was attempting to make an advance on you.

The prince couldn't help but grin at how adorably confused and caught off guard you looked, "Yes, that's right. I wanted to surprise you, Miss Jang. Are you surprised?"

Quickly regaining your composure and summoning the poise of a noblewoman, you nodded, "I guess I am, Your Highness," You said before turning to dismiss the elderly woman with an assuring smile, "It's alright, Eunsook. I was growing slightly bored anyway. Come, Prince Yeosang, let me show you around, and you can tell me why you've decided to pay us a surprise visit."

Recalling his fondness for flowers, you led him through the winding paths of the estate's gardens, each turn revealing a new burst of colour and fragrance. Sunlight danced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the well-tended flowerbeds, "Now, I know our humble garden obviously cannot compare to the ones in the palace, but I am very proud of our servants' hard work. What do you think, Your Highness?"

While your eyes remained fixed on the colourful flowers, the prince's gaze was captivated by you, his admiring gaze lingering on your graceful movements amidst the blooms.

"I agree; I think it's absolutely enchanting. While it may be humble, it surpasses the beauty of any of the palace's gardens." He remarked, his words carrying a subtle double meaning. He wondered if you could discern the implied compliment; he was indirectly comparing you to the royals in the palace. In his eyes, you outshone any of his sisters, his father's concubines, and all the potential candidates ever presented to him.

Yeosang found himself torn between amusement and slight disappointment as you appeared genuinely oblivious to the deeper meaning of his words. Your reply, however, pleased him, "Thank you, Your Highness. It seems you have good taste," You attempted a joke. Fortunately, he laughed in response, "I think I do too, my lady."

He halted his steps and turned to you, "I have a question," He said, and you nodded, encouraging him to continue, "Go on. Ask away, Your Highness."

"Even with all these beautiful flowers here, is your favourite still the lotus?" Your heart skipped a beat at the mention of the lotus, a symbol closely tied to memories of your husband. Determined not to show any hint of turmoil, you nodded and answered steadily, "Of course, my prince."

The prince kept his smile intact, "Hmm, I see. Is it solely because the general dedicated a pond full of them to you?"

When you remained silent, he clarified, "What I mean is, if you had the freedom to choose, which flower would truly be your favourite? Instead of accepting what's given to you, I believe you should have the right to make your own choice." It was another subtle suggestion that you should be able to choose your own path, including your life partner, rather than conforming to arrangements made for you.

It appeared that you had grasped the underlying meaning of his words this time. You blinked rapidly as you gathered your thoughts before letting out a chuckle, "Ah, I suppose that hadn't crossed my mind," Shifting the topic, you continued, "Anyway, let us move on from idle chatter. Why don't you enlighten me on the purpose of your surprise visit, Your Highness? With my husband away, I'm unsure if there's anything I can assist you with."

Sensing your slight discomfort, Yeosang decided to get straight to the point, "Right, I'm aware General Park is currently away, bravely fighting for our country. That's precisely why I'm here—I was hoping you would be able to represent him at my upcoming birthday banquet. Her Majesty, the Queen, has also expressed her desire to meet you in person."

Your eyes widened at that, "Sh-she has?"

« Preview of Part 15 »

Feeling like you were left with little choice but to agree, you accepted the prince's invitation to his upcoming birthday banquet, scheduled just a week away.

Since bidding him goodbye, you had confined yourself to Seonghwa's study, burying yourself in your studies. The weight of the upcoming royal event weighed heavily on you. It would mark your debut in royal circles, and facing it without your husband by your side added to your nerves. Could anyone fault you for feeling anxious?

You contemplated seeking help. While Eunsook was supportive, her knowledge of palace affairs was limited. Would Hongjoong or Yunho be able to offer insight? Perhaps Jongho, with his years of service to the general, might have some valuable advice.

A light bulb went off in your head when you remembered San, the King's royal secretary. Surely, he would be the most knowledgeable about the matters you needed help with. However, your enthusiasm waned when you realised you had no means of reaching out to him. Moreover, you doubted he would have time to spare for a little woman like you, given his busy schedule.

Palming your forehead tiredly, you suddenly noticed a shadowy figure loitering suspiciously outside the study. Their silhouette, visible through the paper walls, didn't resemble anyone familiar, and it sent a shiver down your spine. If it had been one of the estate staff, they usually would have announced themselves.

Jumping to your feet, you instinctively grabbed the inkstone from Seonghwa's desk, preparing to defend yourself. With cautious steps, you approached the entrance where the unknown person lingered, apparently trying to catch a glimpse of you, "Who's there? I know you're not one of my staff. If you do not reveal yourself, I won't hesitate to hurt you!"

Your yelp escaped when the individual abruptly swung the door open in response to your words, "Woah woah, it's just me!" He reassured, causing you to pause with the stone halfway raised as you blinked in recognition, "O-oh, it's you..."

Scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, he apologised, "I'm sorry for startling you, Lady Park. In case you forgot, my name is Wooyoung. I'm here on the general's orders to assist you should you need anything."

Dun dun dunnn! Wonder what Prince Yeosang has up his sleeves heeheeee anyway, I just wanted to tell y'all that I'm about to have another crazy week ahead. So, like this part, the next one is probably gonna take a while too😭

Also, Happy Lunar New Year to those of you who celebrate it! As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

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#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

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kingofbodyrolls · 2 months ago

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I will come to you (m) | ksj

When the first flakes of white snow fell, the world shifted, draped in a quiet, uncanny veil. Then came the air raids—a brutal, unrelenting scream that tore through the silence, and Seokjin feared he had lost you forever. He wandered through the wasteland, searching, aching, haunted by the memory of your touch—warm, tender, as if sunlight itself had lingered upon his skin, even as darkness closed in. And now, as he feels your heart beat against his, he wonders, barely daring to breathe: can this be real?

→ Pairing: seokjin x reader (genderless) → AUs: apocalyptic!au, survival!au → Trope: established relationship → Genres: angst (heavy) + fluff (heavy) + poetic → Rating: mature (though this mentions an apocalypse and there’s no sexually explicit stuff, please tread carefully.) → Word count: 1.6k → Warnings (general) + triggers: mention of nuclear war (bombings), fire, lost love reunited, FLUFF with a happy ending → Read on AO3? [link] → Author’s note: so… I listened to Jin’s album—I don’t know how many times (I’ve lost count), and I kept replaying ‘I will come to you’ and so this one was born while I cried my eyes out. It’s a very poetic piece, inspired by Jin’s new Album ‘HAPPY’ but mostly the tracks ‘Running Wild’ and ‘I will come to you’ and you know what? It fits perfectly into my End of The World series 🤧 I remember once, there was an anon who asked if I would make a story in this universe for each member, and I’m still not sure. This one kinda just happened. I do really hope you’ll love it. I promise; it might sound really sad, and it is, but it’s just as much a hug and a promise of forever 🫂 I love you 💜

[series materlist]: End of the World* *this story is a stand alone one-shot (and can be read just as is), but it is a part of my End of the World series, so if you haven’t read it you can give it a read 💜

The day the white snow fell, the world transformed. A pristine veil descended, cloaking not just the streets but hearts and hopes, painting everything in hues of ash, bone-white, and the ghostly luminescence of distant fire. The afterglow of atomic storms lingered on the horizon, a reminder of ruin.

When the air raids screamed—a piercing, merciless wail—it felt as though the earth itself recoiled. The sound rippled through him, sharp as shards of glass, setting his skin alight with dread, each nerve taut as a bowstring. And then he turned to you.

For the briefest heartbeat, he saw it—fear etched in your gaze, crystalline, like a reflection caught in a frozen pond.

And then the world ruptured. Explosions clawed at the heavens. Buildings fractured, shards spinning like deadly constellations. Falling.

His reality tilted, a kaleidoscope of chaos. Heart pounding a desperate rhythm, he stumbled through the wreckage, blinded by dust and despair, grasping for some sign—anything—of you.

But you were gone. Where were you?

He had scoured the ruins, stumbling through the shattered remnants of a world undone, as shadows of planes etched cold, cruel arcs across the ashen sky—each one a harbinger of annihilation. Above him, the heavens carried a promise of total destruction; below, the earth whispered only despair.

Tears carved rivers down his soot-streaked face, his bones heavy with dread, each step forward an act of defiance against the weight of grief that clung to him like iron chains. He didn’t know how to exist in a world where your smile, radiant as sunlight breaking through a storm, no longer graced his days. Your laughter, a melody that once brightened even the darkest hours, was now an aching echo. Your warmth, the heart of every moment, felt as distant as the stars.

And yet, something within him—a fragile ember of you—urged him onward. His heart, though fractured, whispered to push through the bitter snow, to carry the memory of you as a flame against the encroaching dark. He vowed to keep it alive: the memory of your boundless kindness, your tireless hands shaping a future together in the lab, side by side, crafting medicines to heal a broken world.

But now, that world was gone. You were gone.

And he stood on the edge of the abyss, a lone figure amid endless ruin, asking a question with no answer: What should he do now?

The weight of it all threatened to crush him, a pain so vast and unrelenting it seemed unbearable. The burden of your absence was a mountain, a storm raging in his chest. Yet still, he carried it, each faltering step a testament to the life you had shared, the dreams you had dared to dream.

Even as the universe itself seemed to collapse around him, he clung to the one thing that remained: you, alive in his heart, guiding him through the endless night.

When he looks back, he marvels at how much time has slipped through his fingers, yet you remain vivid—a ghost etched in his heart, haunting every corner of his barren world. Your image lingers, unyielding, like the golden trace of sunlight that kisses the horizon even as night falls.

The world may be gray, its hues leached by sorrow, but you remain—an unbroken thread of warmth, a tender caress on his cheek, softer than the whisper of the wind. Each night, he seeks you in his dreams, wandering through shadowy corridors of memory, chasing the echo of your laughter, the light in your eyes.

He swears to you: when the warm breeze stirs again, carrying the scent of renewal, he will come to you. No matter how long the journey, no matter how heavy the ache in his soul, he will find his way back to you.

Until then, as sleep takes him, he surrenders to your memory—an embrace of all that was beautiful, a sanctuary where he can still feel your presence. There, you are whole, alive, and radiant.

Without you, the world is stripped bare. Color fades to ash, the air turns cold, and life feels like an endless winter. You were the fire in his soul, the summer in his heart. Without you, everything is still, silent, and gray.

And when he finds himself wandering a dark and desolate road, he sees it—a glimmer of light, distant but steadfast. It pulls him forward, a quiet beacon in the endless night, and he thinks of you. Of his promise.

He will come to you.

With trembling resolve, he steps toward the light, each stride shedding the shadows that cling to him like ghosts of the past. His hand reaches out, and in the glow, he feels it—the warmth of your presence, as if the very air hums with your essence. Your fingers graze his, soft as whispers, anchoring him to this moment.

And then you hold him, drawing him into an embrace that feels like coming home. The world could end again, collapsing into chaos, but none of it matters. Not the ruin, not the loss, not the pain. Not while he is here, held in your arms, the fragile promise of forever whispering between you.

Please give me forever, he thinks, the words a prayer that rises from the depths of his soul.

His cheek presses against your shoulder, and he feels the wetness there—tears he hadn’t realized were his own. Sobs shake his body, raw and unyielding, as the weight of your reunion crashes over him like a tidal wave.

“Is this real?” he whispers, his voice breaking, fragile as the first crack of dawn.

Your touch is warm. Real. Tangible in a way he almost forgot could exist. And for the first time in what feels like an eternity, the darkness doesn’t seem so vast.

The pulse beneath his hand—steady, alive—grounds him as his palm rests against your chest. He feels your heart beating, each rhythm a melody of life, a reassurance so fragile it terrifies him. He doesn’t dare wake, doesn’t dare let the delicate warmth of this moment dissolve like mist at dawn.

“I missed you,” you breathe, your voice low, soft, trembling with the weight of emotion. Your arms encircle him, holding him as though tomorrow may never come, as though this embrace is the only thing keeping the universe intact.

Tears spill down his cheeks, unchecked, uncontainable. He sobs, raw and unguarded, the pain and joy of reunion too much to hold inside.

“Seokjin, stop crying,” you murmur, your fingers tender as they wipe the tears from his face.

“But I don’t want you to leave,” he chokes out, his voice cracking, each word heavy with fear.

You cup his cheek, your touch gentle, grounding. “I’m not going anywhere,” you say, and your voice carries a quiet strength, a promise woven into the very fabric of his soul.

Still, his eyes search yours, confusion and disbelief flickering like shadows. He’s afraid to believe, afraid to hope.

“I’m here,” you whisper, leaning close. The brush of your lips against his cheek is featherlight, a kiss that feels more real than anything he’s known in so long.

He blinks, his breath catching as if the world itself has paused, waiting for him to believe in the impossible.

“You’re here?” he whispers, his voice trembling with disbelief, as if the words might vanish the moment they leave his lips. His gaze searches yours, desperate, yearning, still caught between the shadow of doubt and the light of hope.

You smile softly, a sound like a distant melody escaping as you chuckle, your fingers reaching out to pinch the cheek you had just kissed.

“Ouch!” he exclaims, rubbing the spot, his lips curling into a faint, startled smile. But he felt that.

Felt it. You’re real? You’re alive?

Before the thoughts can fully settle, he pulls you into his arms with a fierceness born of desperation and relief. He holds you as though you’re the last thing tethering him to this world, so tightly it feels as though you might break—and yet, neither of you lets go.

Finally. After all the ruin, all the searching, he has found you. His heart pounds against yours, a frantic rhythm that echoes the mantra he’s carried in his soul all this time: If you need me, I’ll come to you.

And now, here you are.

He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead against yours, and breathes in your presence, the scent of you, the reality of you. You are here, in his arms, alive and whole. And he vows, silently, fervently—never again will he let you go.

Together, you’ll run wild—you’ll face this apocalyptic world, a fractured place of ash and ruin, armed with nothing but your unyielding love. That love is your fire, your lifeline, a force wild and untamed, propelling you forward when the weight of despair threatens to pull you under. Side by side, you’ll find a way to mend the shattered pieces—not just for yourselves, but for a world that still aches for healing.

His hand cradles your cheek, his touch a silent vow, and he leans in, pressing a kiss to your lips—tender, lingering, a spark of life in a barren landscape. Then his lips find your forehead, and this kiss is different: it carries a promise etched into the very fabric of his being.

Forever.

He whispers it softly, though the words hold the weight of eternity. His promise is clear, unbreakable: he will always come to you.

If you need him, no force—neither time nor distance, neither chaos nor destruction—will keep him from finding you.

And at this moment, nothing else exists. The world may crumble, the sky may fall, but as long as you have each other, as long as his arms can hold you and your heartbeat echoes his, you are infinite.

→ Permanent taglist: @nora12379 @jeonsbabygirlsworld @fancypeacepersona @ktownshizzle

→ Author’s endnote: what do you think?? And what do you think of Jin’s new album? What’s your favorite track? Please let me know what you think of the story that honestly was a mixture of a poem and a story, there wasn’t really any character growth or world building in it, but I hope it was good anyway 🥹🫶

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dumbseee · 1 year ago

Text

united in grief.

f1 au/fic: in which, you’re jules bianchi’s little sister. you’re the same age as charles and grew up with him, when jules passed away your world completely fell apart, and you left monaco for paris. eight years after jules’s death you finally decide to comeback to monaco to visit your old friend.

charles leclerc x bianchi!reader.

fc: madison beer.

warnings: mention of jules bianchi, grief, angst, fluff.

note: happy eighth heavenly birthday, jules, we will always love and remember you, champion 🤍

y/n just posted a story!

caption: missed you monaco 🤍

you really thought about going back for a while, you missed you life in monaco so much. all your friends were here, your family was here, even after jules’s death they stayed, but you couldn’t. every step you took in the luxurious city reminded you of your brother. his presence was everywhere. you were seventeen when you lost jules, he was your whole world, you always wished you were the one in that car. you left monaco for paris because you needed a fresh start in a new city where you could walk without feeling the people’s eyes on you. but a small part of your heart wondered if leaving monaco meant that you were abandoning jules too. he was buried there after all, his soul was now forever in monaco and you were leaving to run away from him.

but your parents reassured you, and told you to fly with your own wings, to find your way, that no matter what jules would be proud of you, and would follow you because he was now your guardian angel. that reassured you a lot since your worst fear was to disappoint him. but your parents were right, jules was an angel when he was still here, and he’s still one up there. so whenever you felt bad, defeated, sad, you knew jules was around you, that gave you the strength to stand up and stay strong. you had to, for your brother. to make him proud.

that’s why you decided to attend today’s race. the monaco grand prix, your brother’s home race. he loved that circuit so much because he knew his friends and family were watching him and cheering for him. you came back without telling anyone, but of course your mother had to tell pascale, so the elderly woman immediately called you to invite you to have lunch with her and lorenzo, her oldest son. you couldn’t say no, because you missed the leclerc, but also because you knew how much you leaving hurt them. you left without saying goodbye, it was too hard for you, so once jules’s funeral was over, you packed your bag and left.

pascale and lorenzo welcomed you with open arms and big smiles, the mother apologised for charles and arthur’s absence but they were busy. charles… you were glad he wasn’t here because you didn’t know how you’d be able to look him in the eye. "you should go to the grand prix with us." lorenzo had told you, with his usual warm smile. at first you refused, but after thinking it over you realised that you owned it to charles, you left him behind when he was also mourning. of course it was harder for you since he was your brother, but jules was everything to charles. his second older brother, he was also lorenzo’s best friend. you hated yourself for being such a selfish coward. guilt was eating you alive and lorenzo noticed it. "don’t be too hard on yourself y/n, jules isn’t going to be happy." he smiled and you had to fight back your tears.

so you came with the leclerc to charles’ home race, you knew that your presence would be the only talk in town and on the internet. "oh my god, y/n!" someone yelled from behind you and you smiled when you saw ‘little arthur’ like you called him back then. he ran to you and made you spin in his arms. you laughed and brushed his hair when he finally put you down. "look at you! where is my little boy?" you asked, still laughing. he flexed his muscles and flashed you a cocky smile before pascale came to hit him in the head. "where is charles?" she asked. "getting ready in the garage, he’s really nervous, i think you should go say hi." he told you. you immediately took a step back, you were nervous as hell too, but for different reasons than charles. what if he didn’t want to see you? what if seeing you ruin his race? what if-… "he still talks about you y/n, he misses you so much you have no idea." pascale chimes in, patting your shoulder.

you were in front of charles’ driver room, you knew that he was just behind it. you could hear voices inside which had to be charles and his teammate. you closed you eyes and knocked three times before waiting. a tall and tan man opened the door for you, he smiled at you and you recognised him as carlos sainz. "isa is waiting for me, see you on track charles." he told charles. "it’s nice seeing you here, y/n." you smiled and watched him go. you took a deep breath before walking into the room. your hands were sweaty and you didn’t know where to look. "y/n?" you haven’t heard his voice in nearly a decade, so him calling your name startled you. "h-…" you couldn’t even finish that charles had closed the gap between you, pulling you in his arms. his face was buried in your neck and his arms were hugging you tightly. you were completely frozen, you didn’t expect him to be that affectionate after what you did to him. "charles, i’m so sorry for leaving." tears were now rolling down your cheeks. he broke the hug and immediately wiped your tears.

"sorry for what?" he asked, furrowing his eyebrows. his hands rested on your shoulders, his touch soothing you. "i’m not mad at you for leaving, y/n. i just wished i was here with you to help you through the grieving process." he smiled and you looked at the ground. he was too good to you, you didn’t deserve it. "you lost jules too, i acted like i was the only one grieving, i didn’t realise the impact my brother had on people’s lives." charles gently kissed your forehead and stroked your cheek. "let’s talk about that later, let me enjoy your presence, you don’t know how much i missed you." he hugged you once again, and this time you wrapped your arms around him, savouring the moment. "my lucky charm is back in town." you couldn’t refrain your laugh at his cheesy comment.

"and charles leclerc wins the monaco grand prix for the first time in his career!" the whole stadium cheered for the monegasque meanwhile you couldn’t stop crying. he won. he won in monaco. it was his goal and he did it. pascale hugged you while cheering for her son, lorenzo and arthur ran to their brother. but you stayed in your seat, looking at him jumping everywhere and celebrating with his brothers and carlos. then, when he turned around to face your direction he did something that sent shivers all over your body. he pointed at you, then at his heart, and then at the sky. this was jules’s celebration every time he’d win something and you were there to support him. he honoured jules even when he finally fulfilled his dream. "jules, you are so loved." you muttered to yourself, looking up at the bright sky.

liked by charles_leclerc, arthurleclerc, philippe_bianchi17 and 2 682 789 others.

y/n: coming back in monaco was hard, but i wanted to be here for charlie, i was scared at first because i knew that i handled my brother’s death terribly but in eight years i forgot how kind you were. i finally understood why jules loved you so much. congratulations on winning your first grand prix in monaco! i’m so proud of the man you became charles, i know that my brother is proud of you and will always look after you. je t’aime charlie ♥️

charles_leclerc: this one was for you, and of course jules, i’m so happy to have you back, je t’aime aussi ♥️

fan1: i can’t stop crying wtf

fan2: jules’ death affected everyone, even the people who never even met him, like me, he was such an angel

fan3: your brother is proud of you y/n! don’t be too hard on yourself!

fan4: we love you!

fan5: so happy to see you healthy!

fan6: man, this family suffered too much, i hope they’re happy now

fan7: charles and y/n relationship is so cute omg

fan8: the way he dedicated his win to the bianchi siblings 🥺

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lovelyyandereaddictionpoint · 5 months ago

Note

could you do a yandere demon mitsuri or shinobu with a demon slayer darling

Demon Slayer Reader in Reverse AU | Yandere KNY

In this alternate universe the hashira are the equivalents of the Upper Moons. Unbelievably strong, incredibly devious, and just as responsible for innumerable deaths as their creator. You on the other hand are like Tanjiro Kamado, a demon slayer dutifully following the orders of Muzan as he’s determined to finally stop the rampant killing that those demons do. But there’s something special about you. Something that the demons just can’t deny. That has them persistently chasing you their greater their connection to their beloved creator. Maybe it’s the blood of their kin, or your kissable lips, or the curses you mutter as your sword doesn’t slice through their necks. Either way they are down-bad:

Mitsuri Kanroji

Turned after being rejected for her strength and differences

Now she uses them to eat scores of humans particularly the most bland people she can find

Can you believe just how few people she actually loves?

Too few people are special because of their differences or physical traits

Which means she’s happily devour all those who don’t which is a lot

She of course claims it’s love at first sight when she sees you

It really can be something as simple as a colorful hanafuda or being deaf

Anything unique to you makes her weak in her knees

“You’re making me so happy just to have met you! I love you!”

So busy fawning over you, she barely misses your swing

Stronger than others she only falls for you deeper

In her twisted mind the blood of Ubuyashiki makes beautiful people of his divine choice even more beautiful

Thus her mission when fighting you is to turn you

So she can have your beauty be eternal

“Don’t avoid me for long my Love! I’m going to make you perfect soon!’

The biggest challenge other than her flexibility, the cherry blossom flooded air, and her insane physical strength is her beau

Rarely does the Demon Moon of Love leave without the Demon Moon of Snakes in tow

And while for your first meetings he definitely is not trying to keep you alive for the change

After he get’s to know you and a nice talk that involves lot’s of dying lower rank demon slayers they’ll both be on the same page

Which will spell absolute doom for you as the conniving duo is not going to bother being upfront

They’ll scheme

They’ll plot

Hold your tsugoko or friends from up high as they take advantage of your heightened emotions

“I want to love you forever and ever and ever. And no one is going to stop me! Not even you”

Shinobu Kocho

She was turned along with her sister who Ubuyashiki saved after she fell ill

For years prior she had devoted herself to science, to medicine only for it to fail her at every turn

Only when she incorporated the great Ubuyashiki’s blood into her creations does she find proper results good results

And she is praised with having so many willing addicted meals and servants to offer as she produces her remedies for masses

Interacting with prey so often gives her a better way to hide and know about the demon slayer’s actions

And amateur slayers that come into her shop swords drawn are usually bullied by the surrounding towns folk

All to be beaten up and kicked out of the town becoming easy pickings at that point

She thought she’d do the same to you

By the way you walked she could sense your power and her mortal end coming closer

But you didn’t attack

Surrounded by many of her loyal customers you ask that she try the contents of a vial to tell what it is

Since it’s suspicious to the people you offer to drink it, another villager drinks it

“You’re the greatest medic in this region. Won’t you tell me what it is and where to find it?”

It’s Wisteria

Potent and poisonous wisteria

Here shinobu is faced with a choice

Attack you ruin her reputation and have to deal with a mob

Or…

drink it and writhe revealing her demon form to be attacked by the mob

“You think you’re a cunning little butterfly don’t you. Flashing your poisonous colors at me. You aren’t aware of the hunger you’ve aroused in me!”

She wasn’t happy as a human with the limits she had

So she doesn’t choose any of those options opting to kill everyone

You block the attack finding out it’s a feint for her to run away

Run away with a snarl that she hasn’t shown for hundreds of years

How dare you!?

Ruining her perfect system

When she reports to the Ubuyashiki compound by night she’s got her head down low while reporting

As expected she was chewed out not only by The Ubuyashiki but the Upper Moons as well

And there is one person she blames above all for her shame

“That despicable little demon slayer!! I’m going to make them pay!”

Her hatred for you becomes a widely welcomed truth among the other demons

Hanging your whereabouts above her head

As she snaps at them like a snarling dog

But her hatred is not simply that

She wants to own you

To hold your face as she successfully demonstrates her mass attack absorbing all within the vicinity

To clip your pretty little wings and delight in your forbidden flavor for as long as possible

When one of her colleagues theonesheclaimsshehatesthemost pressures her she’s rambling to him about how she’d never want to actually kill you nor turn you completely into a demon like she

“They’re not good enough for Master…but it’d be a shame for such a beautiful butterfly to die so quickly.”

So she’ll turn to science

Once again using her expertise to craft some serum that she plans to keep you attached to for the rest of your not-so mortal life

She’ll use her own blood measuring and testing how little is needed to give you the best parts of being a demon

She knows the clock is ticking as your life goes on

So she’ll be excited to track you down, learning as much as she can about you

Almost as much fun as she’ll enjoy making simple humans that remind her of you as test subjects

She’d even be willing to get help from one of the Upper Moons with her hunt for you

“I hope your ready for a change, butterfly! There’s nothing I can’t do without his blood.”

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iridiss · 6 months ago

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Mystreet has brilliant potential as a more “innocent and casual” modern au of Diaries to be the universe that heals all the heavy scars that Diaries left behind.

In Mystreet, Laurance’s dads are both alive and the Zvahl family lives as a very happy nuclear family. Sasha and Laurance had a small grudge in their childhood over Laurance leaving the gang in his freshman year, but when they’re older they make up and stay close friends.

Zane and Aphmau used to bicker a lot in their childhood (and very much still do on occasion in their adulthood), but somehow ended up forming a tight-knit friendship over their shared autism I mean interests, making Aphmau one of Zane’s first ever friends. Zane ends up becoming deeply loyal to Aphmau as a true and genuine friend, who would do anything for her and do his best to keep her from harm when the chips fell down. He becomes integrated into Aphmau’s group of found family. He could never dream of hurting her.

Garroth and Zane struggled in their childhood to connect, with Zane’s constant attempts to push everyone away and appear guarded and non-vulnerable, but when dire circumstance finally forced Zane to put his ego aside and open up for once in his life, they do end up connecting and becoming incredibly close as brothers. ((GUYS. REVERSE OF THE IRENE DIMENSION SCENE IN STARLIGHT GUYS. INSTEAD WE HAVE GARROTH FIGHTING HIS LITTLE BROTHER WHILE ZANE BEGS THAT THERES STILL GOOD IN HIM AND TO COME BACK TO HIM AND BE BROTHERS AGAIN. THEY REVERSE THE ROLES IN MYSTREET. AND THIS IS HOW THEY HEAL. FUCK YEAH))

Jeffory lives. And though he and Katelyn still had their break-up, in their later years they still keep in touch, occasionally seeing each other again as Jeffory is invited to house parties and holiday celebrations. He’s happily married to a new wife, who doesn’t die, and raises his daughter in peaceful bliss. He and Zane never meet.

Gene becomes a good guy. More specifically, he becomes a caring older brother and partner. There’s never any point where he and Dante don’t keep in contact. In his childhood, Gene was an edgy emo prick desperate to be cool and superior through manipulation and blackmail, but he mellows out a lot in his 20s, because in this universe, he doesn’t have any reason to keep fighting. Life is good, no one ever betrayed him (aside from Laurance leaving the gang, but when he’s an adult his perspective on that changes from “how could you leave us for a goody-two-shoes PREP life” to “yeah that was very understandable tbh we were NOT a healthy clique lmao”), he was never killed, no one is making him fight for anything, nothing is there to make him bitter and angry and vengeful. There’s nothing to avenge. So he’s happy. He loves his little brother, he loves tormenting him and teasing him, but at the end of the day he would die for him. He loves his doting parents, he’s a happily married polyamorous husband to both Zenix and Sasha forever and I will die on that hill, he reconnects with Laurance and apologizes for all the trouble they had in their youth. Laurance forgives him with a laugh and a joke, the two hug it out, and stay acquaintances. Laurance forms a closer bond with both Zenix and Sasha as a result.

Zenix and Garroth are best friends, especially when they’re adults. It takes them a bit, because in highschool I imagine Garroth would know Zenix as “one of the kids in that mean-looking ruffian gang that made my boyfriend Laurance cry, so fuck you” or even alternatively, if you’ll allow me to be a bit more self-indulgent, “that’s Zane’s weird little friend that comes over sometimes and is very loud and breaks things on occasion.” But like. they can’t NOT be friends in this universe. they should get to maintain their old bond in this universe. Where Zenix is like an additional little brother to the Ro’meave family. Once they become friends, they never have any fallout or problems, they stay friends, and Zenix is very worried about whatever the hell went down on Starlight and very badly wants to make sure that Garroth is okay.

This is the universe where the Diaries characters and their relationships in Diaries are allowed to happen again, but this time, it happens without any of the conflict that tore people apart. There’s no war to fight, there’s no shadow knights that do dastardly things, there’s no heaven and hell colliding that forces people to pick sides—they just get to live. And if life is good and normal and happy for all of them, how do they change? What bonds never die, that did prior? They all get to be friends in ways that they never could before. Zane never goes on a murdering spree antagonizing all of Phoenix Drop for years, so he’s able to meet Nana and the two fall in love, when in Diaries the two never even met. They were always too far apart to have met (and frankly I bet Diaries Nana would have a lot more violent words to say to the man that terrorized her best friend and new home). Zane becomes friends with Aphmau, of all people. Laurance keeps Sasha as a close friend. They heal, man.

travis is an exception to this rule though, he does not get to heal in this universe. it gets worse for him actually

#aphmau #Mystreet #MCD #Minecraft diaries #aphblr #aphmau headcanons #aphmau rewrite

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maddiethegoodwitch · 28 days ago

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🎄 AN ARCANE CHRISTMAS ༄

— summary : basically just what arcane characters are like at christmas

— i missed writing so bad & my caitvi headcanons got a lot of likes and i was like yay!! and since it’s the first of december.. i feel like this was needed. so happy arcane christmas ! also this is an au where vi & caitlyn are together , everybody is alive & they’re all happy and healthy in their respective cities but are all friends due to connections 😝 never done something like this before so tell me if i should do more or quit forever

— mainly includes vi, caitlyn, jinx, ekko sevika, isha, jayce, mel & viktor

— by the way i read @rhiannonsknife ‘s rhiannon christmas headcanons earlier and i thought the layout was so beautiful so that’s what the design is inspired by !! none of the hcs tho from what i remember hahah these r all original (ur writing is so good pls never die)

— tags bc yay @thankynext @tortvredpoetsblog

secret santa!

some people (jinx) complained about getting presents for everybody, so caitlyn suggested they do a secret santa! vi wrote down everybody’s names and they all got folded into a hat, and they all picked one (except isha) bla bla bla u know how it goes . on christmas afternoon, everybody goes over to the kiramman house for christmas dinner , and before the dinner they agreed to exchange gifts. something had gone wrong as sevika ended up with two gifts and jayce with none.. “vi! you put sevika in twice?” - a very angry caitlyn. she wanted this to go perfectly:( “i’m sorry! i don’t think about jayce a lot!” - a stuttering vi trying for an excuse because she feels bad. jayce sulking because he doesn’t have a present but sevika can’t give him one of hers because one of them is arm attachments from jinx and the other is cute stickers for it from mel. isha being sad that she wasn’t included but everybody got her something little and cute so she cheers up. caitlyn pulling jinx’s name and using this to try and repair their relationship, absolutely spoiling jinx with gifts. she even earns a smile :( viktor getting ekko and worrying bc they aren’t that close but jayce helps him.. they all gave jayce their sprouts as an apology and made vi do 50 sit ups (caitlyn suggested it..)

decorating the tree!

christmas for caitlyn is her roman empire. she needs everything to be perfect and she’s not a beige christmas or a green christmas. she’s a white christmas. her tree is white and the baubles are red and silver. the first two christmases after the war, she never let anybody help, but this year she felt festive and like it was an activity they could all do together. however, as soon as isha got anywhere near the tree with her hands covered in chocolate after eating out of a melted advent calendar, caitlyn was done. she gave vi the stern look and vi had to distract isha while caitlyn “fixed” the tree , and instead they all did a silly one at jinx’s place :) nobody was mad at caitlyn because they know how much she loves christmas and she surprised them all with the house being completely lit up and decorated

sevika , jinx & isha

sevika was unsure about spending christmas with everybody , as she wasn’t close with any of them except jinx and isha . jinx was invited because of vi obviously & that included isha too . vi suggested sevika come if she wanted to, and though she’d never admit it, sevika didn’t want to spend christmas alone after the crazy year, so she agreed. isha was just excited for people to be getting her presents… and stuffing her face with caitlyns cooking. caitlyn was actually left to look after isha for a little while & she loved it, isha gets excited when she sees caitlyn now. “i wanted to be the cool aunt..” - a pouting vi watching caitlyn hold isha. jinx felt awkward because she got the “family invitation”, but after a chat with vi & everyone embracing her she was fine and actually loved feeling like part of a family again. sevika was awkward when she arrived on christmas morning but after one friendly chat with vi, she figured she could talk with anybody & she did!

christmas dinner!

the people in charge of cooking christmas dinner were jayce, caitlyn and mel. caitlyn cooked for her and vi every year, and since christmas was at their house, she was in charge by default. mel walked into the kitchen to chat with caitlyn and saw she was struggling, so she called jayce in to help because the both of them attended cooking classes together and were fairly talented at it.. it came out amazing and was gone in about ten minutes. we already know that vi is a messy eater, but after filling her plate and wolfing it down, there was gravy all round her mouth 😭 caitlyn made sure to make a special plate for isha that had things she would like (isha is a picky eater to me..) because vi told her about it. jayce almost burnt the chicken trying to impress mel with drink pouring… ekko , viktor & sevika hadn’t spent a lot of time with the rest of the group so they were cautious about showing their eating habits, but viktor ended up eating copious amounts of cauliflower, ekko eating like half of the yorkshire puddings & sevika eating about 5 whole pigs with the amount of pigs in blankets she ate

caitvi

they both agreed to not get the other anything big or special, but they both did. caitlyn helped vi get back on her feet (i hc vi works at a mechanics now :3) and vi wanted to repay her, probably getting her some jewellery with a cringey engravement on it and she goes red while cait is reading it but caitlyn loves it… 🤗 & caitlyn got vi some boots that they saw in a shop window and vi said “do you think i’d look hot in those” and caitlyn thought yes.

jinx & ekko

so they aren’t dating but they’re like. lowk flirting like hiiii.. and caitlyn picks up on it and tells vi and vi’s like. “nah there’s no way…” but then she trails off as jinx actually laughs at something ekko says.. jinx doesn’t believe she has a crush on ekko but they spend basically all night talking to eachother other than the small conversations with the others .. jinx introduces ekko to isha and isha asks if that’s jinx’s boyfriend and jinx laughs then ekko feels bad ): but jinx makes it up to him by showing him that she actually got him a present!! like some cool graffiti cans or something & ekko loves them

mistletoe

caitlyn ignored vi’s protesting to have no mistletoe and put it up ALL over the house and i mean everywhere.. she was constantly saying “ooooh is that mistletoe i see!” but vi found it cute so she dragged caitlyn under it and kissed her (jinx scoffed..). jinx and ekko ended up under there and after cait pointed it out, jinx snagged it off the roof, threw it on the floor and stepped on it. “what? i don’t want our first kiss to be infront of my sister and her stupid girlfriend.” “stupid girlfriend?” “first kiss? so there’ll be more?” “shut up.” jayce kept trying to get mel under there but she was dodging it , & jayce got frustrated .. “y’dont wanna kiss me or something?” “well..”

mall santa

jinx took isha into the christmas markets like a week before christmas and did not expect to see sevika dressed as santa. isha literally noticed it before jinx. she tugged on jinx’s arm and pointed at sevika until jinx realised and she was like holy shit.. isha still happily sat on santa’s knee, got a picture and a big hug too while jinx was stood there teasing her. “i think isha wants like.. a hextech hoverboard for christmas.. can ya do that, santa?” but after it sevika payed her a visit and threatened jinx if she told anybody.. she still ended up telling people after they ate dinner on christmas LMAO

BONUS

jinx to vi : “ so you like .. live here now? ya fuckin’ priss..”

viktor almost cried because jayce got him like a cover for his cane because viktor mentioned that it had been really hurting his hands recently but he couldn’t get a new one

whenever vi and caitlyn did anything slightly intimate jinx would say “there we go! kiss an enforcer, ruin christmas..”

for some reason vi treated christmas crackers like an olympics game and would use all her strength to pull it so she got the bigger half.. but she just wanted to tell the corny jokes

jayce was super awkward the whole night & started talking to sevika thinking she was scary but they actually had a nice conversation

mel and caitlyn christmas gossiping over champagne and then watching the christmas special of gavin and stacey because i SAID SO and they’re british

vi drinking straight vodka until caitlyn stopped her because isha made grabby hands at it thinking it was water

caitlyn and vi cringe matching pyjamas that say mrs claus and mrs claus.

#🍰 — my writing .ᐟ #❄️ — christmas .ᐟ #headcanons 🐈#arcane #arcane headcanons #christmas #vi arcane #caitvi #caitlyn kiramman #mel medarda #jayce talis #viktor arcane #jinx arcane #isha arcane #sevika arcane #writing

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countcvnt · 10 months ago

Text

Howl

Chapter One: Coffee Shop Crush

[Werewolf!Poly!141 x GN!Reader]

Summary: Four years after a horrible attack, you and your childhood best friend move for her job. After the move, you frequent a coffee shop near your apartment, and you meet a cute ex-military man. You can't help but fall for him. Warnings: Mentions of blood, descriptions of scars, 2 named OCs (i know some people don't like that, and that's okay!) one of the OCs is a child (they are important, i promise) reader being insecure about said scars, pet names (from friend), no use of y/n Word Count: 2.3k A/N: I had an idea and had to write it!! THIS IS AN AU (obviously), I'm doing what i want and everyone is alive. Don't worry, I'm still working Experiment as well! I love Gaz, truly and deeply, you are about to see that in full swing baybeeeee! Divider by @cafekitsune

“This isn't so silly now, is it?”

Your friend looks at you, her hand on her hip. You can't help but roll your eyes. “I never said this was silly,” You deadpan at her. “I said–”

“‘The idea of wanting to go camping before you give birth is silly’.” She uses air quotes around the words.

“Yeah! The idea, not the action, Cynthia.” You bite back.

She rolls her eyes this time. She looks at the tent the both of you set up —mostly you— and smiles to herself. You can’t help but smile too. You groan at yourself and walk over to her. You pat her on the back.

“You’re right.” She looks at you, “This isn’t silly. I’m just–”

“A hater. I get it! I love you for it!” Her words stun you. You cross your arms at her and scowl. You grunt and walk away from her. “Hey!” She turns to you, “Where are you going?”

You click your tongue, “Gotta get wood for a fire, silly.” She gives you an enthusiastic ‘thank you’ and you walk off towards the treeline. The sun is setting and there is a horrible feeling settling in your gut. “You’re just a hater…” You mumble to yourself. “Nothing bad is going to happen.” You inhale sharply and walk into the woods. You grab some branches that look pretty burnable and rush back out to your campsite.

Cynthia says nothing about rushed actions, instead she motions for you to place the branches in the spot she made for the wood. You set it down and Cynthia grabs the lighter fluid. She douses the branches and sets them ablaze.

She smiles and sits down a few feet from the fire and you watch her. She places her hands on her stomach and closes her eyes. She looks content. Genuinely, and utterly content. You sigh. One of her eyes squint open and she pats the ground beside. You don’t hesitate to sit down with her.

“What’s wrong?”

Your stomach flips. In a horrible way.

“I don’t know.” You look at the fire before staring up at the full moon. Your eyes cut back to her and she pats you on the thigh.

“We’ve been friends forever, you can tell me anything.” She gives you a soft smile.

“My stomach hurts.” It’s not a complete lie.

“Sorry, babes,” She shakes her head, “can’t help you there.”

“I guess–” You pause. “You’re so happy. Like, glowing… I want that too. What are you doing?” You let out an awkward laugh. Her face drops. “It’s not that I’m not happy, I just– I’m not happy like you.”

“Oh, sweetie,” She pulls you into a soft hug, her ‘mom voice’ coming out. “I promise, I’m not always thrilled. I mean, I’m about to be a single mom… That’s terrifying. But I do have you, and that means a lot to me.” Her hand rubs your back. “When we get back from this trip, we can do something you want to do!” She pulls away and presses her forehead to yours. “I promise.”

You close your eyes, nodding. “That means a lot,” You smile. Cynthia pulls away and you sigh. You can’t help but still feel sick. A loud whine comes from the trees behind you. An animal dying. You tense.

“Get in the tent.” You don’t even look at Cynthia, your eyes are laser focused on the woods.

“It’s probably wolves or something…” She doesn't argue though. Cynthia crawls into the tent and waits for you. You don’t get in fast enough.

Something big moves in your peripheral vision. You look up and want to scream, no noise comes out. Cynthia sees the pure shock on your face before she registers what’s going on. You're tackled to the ground by some creature. You figure it’s not an animal or a man. Definitely not a man. Its claws are large, too large to belong to an animal you know, and ripping into you in seconds.

A scream finally rips from your mouth. Cynthia doesn't move. You hope she doesn’t come out of that tent. You’re overpowered instantly; the creature gnashing its teeth above you, its claws rip into your stomach. Another one of your screams echoes through the woods. You look over at the tent.

Cynthia isn’t in the tent.

Your eyes widen. You don’t move.

“Get off– Get back!” Cynthia screams, her voice full of rage and fear. You can’t see what she’s doing but, suddenly, the creature removes itself from you and takes off away from the both of you. Your eyes cut to her. She’s standing there, holding a burning stick. Tears fill her eyes.

“Sweetie,” She’s using her mom voice again, you look at her with shock filled eyes. Adrenaline is dwindling, she sees it. “I need you to stay with me…” She’s fumbling for her phone. “I have service!” She calls what you can only assume is authorities, and everything is starting to fade in and out. She gives the operator the location and she’s trying to keep you focused on her. “Please, stay awake… I can’t lose you…”

You open your mouth to speak, but you are out. You’re too far gone to even comprehend what you want to say. You let the darkness take over. So much for doing whatever you wanted to do.

You sit at the coffee shop, eyes looking at the laptop screen in front of you. Your eyes move down to the time and your heart is in your throat when you see the date. It doesn’t get easier it seems. You know what day it is, really, you are always aware. But, seeing it makes it so real. You inhale sharply and look back at the screen.

You’re doing your annual “What The Fuck Attacked Me in Those Woods” research. It’s hard to constantly look things up. And, every year around the time of the attack, things become fresh. The scars, and the thoughts. It may be the worst time to look things up, but it’s the only time you want to.

So far, you’ve found a big wolf, a bigger bear (which you are sure it wasn’t either of those), and… A werewolf. That doesn’t make sense either though. Not completely. It fits the description of whatever attacked you. But those aren’t real. You sigh and continue looking at the pictures.

You come across an article. Someone claiming ‘a large creature’ (a werewolf, they are sure) had attacked their livestock. You want to look away when you catch images of the poor animals, but you can’t… You’re too busy comparing the marks on the sheep to the marks on your stomach.

It’s adding up…

“Whatcha lookin’ up?”

You almost jump out of your skin. A yelp escapes you and slam your laptop shut. “Gaz!” You whisper, swatting at him. “What the hell?”

“Sorry,” He puts his hands up and sits across from you, “but really… Were you looking up werewolves?” He raises a brow. He sounds playful. If only he knew you weren't playing.

Your brows furrow and your lips turn downward into a pout. “I’m not in the mood.”

Gaz immediately apologizes. “My bad,” he pauses. He watches you closely as you grab your coffee and take a sip. “Are you alright?”

You only nod. “I will be.” You solemnly sigh. Your eyes peer up at Gaz, his wheels are turning.

“Would now be a bad time to ask you out?”

You are certain the shock on your face is visible from across the coffee shop. Your jaw drops and you stare at him. Gaz shifts. You swallow hard and compose yourself. “Um, actually, I don’t think there would be a bad time for you to ask that.”

He is relieved. You see him relax. He gives you a toothy grin and you can’t help but return the smile. “What about tonight?” His confidence is back.

“Yes!” You are excited, you cannot help but feel so excited. “I mean, yeah, that's fine.” You rub your hands down your thighs and try to act nonchalant.

Gaz’s smile turns cheeky. “Perfect.” He jots something down on a piece of paper and hands it to you. His number. “I'm surprised I haven't given this to you yet, but here.” He stands from his seat. “I have work to do today, but tonight I'm all yours.” He winks at you.

Heat bristles across your cheeks. You nod at him as he leaves. You pick up your phone and quickly put his number in. You send a text to him, letting him know it's you. You slip your phone into your jacket pocket and bite the inside of your lip. You put your computer in your bag and begin to leave yourself. Your mind is running faster than you can keep up with.

Maybe it doesn't have to be a bad day after all.

As you're leaving the coffee shop you pull out your phone. One new message.

I forgot to tell you what I have planned for tonight

If you're up for it, I can keep it a secret? -Gaz

Your stomach knots. You want so badly to know. Maybe not knowing will help you grow. You trust Gaz.

Just let me know what I need to wear.

Something cute! But you're always cute. So that won't be a problem. -Gaz

Your face is burning again. You respond with an ‘okay’ and send a thumbs up emoji. You smile all the way home.

You open the door of your apartment and are greeted with a shrill scream of your name. You close the door and small arms wrap around your legs. You smile down at the child.

“Hey, booger.” You hug back. “Where's your mom?”

Footsteps come from another room and the child points towards the noise. Cynthia walks in and smiles at you. Her eyes narrow and she hums. “You seem… oddly happy.”

“Is that bad?”

“No, no!” She shakes her head. “It's good. Great! I know you were upset this morning… Did something turn your morning around?”

You shrug. “Maybe.” You smile at her. She perks up. “I'm going on a date tonight.” You are nonchalant this time. Playing it cool for your friend.

She runs towards you and hugs you, her daughter in between you and her. She squeals. Cynthia pulls away and smiles widely at you, after apologizing to her child who runs off. “For real?” When you nod, she continues. “With your coffee shop crush?”

You nod again. “He stopped by today just to ask me out…” Your stomach flips at the thought of that. You want to scream at how sweet he is.

“What's his name, anyway?”

You haven't told anyone his name. You met him a week ago and didn't want to jinx anything. You didn't dare mess anything up for yourself. Now, you feel obligated to at least tell Cynthia his name. “Kyle.”

“Know anything about him?” She cocks a brow.

“Well, we've only been talking for a week. I'm sure I know more about him than he does about me though… He’s ex-military. I know he works with his old military colleagues. I also know he has the prettiest eyes I've ever seen and is the sweetest man I've ever met.” You smile at her.

Cynthia beams at you. “I'm happy for you! We've lived here a week and you're already among progress.”

“Now I have all day to think about this date…” You pause, remembering your search from earlier. “Cynthia, I looked more up about–”

Cynthia’s eyes snap from her child and to you. “Sweetie,” her voice is soft but full of worry. “It's okay to not know what it was…”

“Maybe for you!” You keep from shouting. “Cynthia… I found someone saying something attacked their livestock and the marks looked like mine.” You whisper. “What they described is the only thing I can describe.”

“What'd they say?” She whispers back.

“Werewolf.” It's the only word that falls from your lips.

Cynthia tenses. She mumbled your name and sighs. “I know you want to know what happened that night– But maybe… Maybe it's best we don't know.”

That is her way of saying that werewolves aren't real. You bite your tongue. “At least I know I'm not crazy.”

Her eyes widen. “You aren't crazy. I saw what you saw!” She stops herself from raising her voice any further. “I have a bad feeling about this. Maybe it's best we let this lie.”

You keep from rolling your eyes. “Whatever.” You walk to your room and close your door. Inhaling sharply, you begin to find something to wear for your date. You have the rest of the day ahead of you, but you want to be ready. You see an old sheer top and scrunch your nose. You wonder why you still have it. It's not ugly, but…

You lift up your shirt slightly and look down at the raised skin stretching from the middle of your ribs down to below your belly button. The scar is big, gnarly, and reminds you too much of the attack to wear that sheer top.

“Hey!” A knock comes from the other side of your door and it swings open. You drop your shirt.

“Amelia–”

“I knocked.” She smiles at you. “Are you comin’ to my party?” Her eyes are big and round and sweet.

You nod. “I'm just going out tonight. Your party is tomorrow, silly.” You pat her on the head.

“Good.” She pats your thigh. “I'll be…” She pauses.

“Four.”

Amelia smiles even wider. “Yeah! Four!”

You can't help but smile. “Okay, Amelia, go to your mother.” You shoo her from your room. She exits as fast as she entered and you sigh. You shake your head and look back at your closet. “At least I have all day to figure out ‘something cute’ for tonight…”

#poly!141 #kyle gaz garrick #gaz x reader #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #john price x reader #john price #cod x reader #gaz mw2 #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod mw x reader

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zablife · 20 days ago

Text

A Smile Is a Loaded Gun

Tommy Shelby x OC Aurora Sabini

Summary: In the winter before their wedding, Tommy and his fiancée, Aurora Sabini, find themselves in New York arranging the details of their personal and professional merger. What happens when they unexpectedly cross paths with Aurora's ex, Luca Changretta, and his mysterious new gf?

A/N: This was inspired by a request originally sent to the lovely @runnning-outof-time. Ty for trusting me with it, K! For those who remember Aurora Sabini, I've resurrected her for this one shot! In this AU she was never married to Luca, but they dated so there's obvs history. Tina is an OC belonging to @call-sign-shark.

Warnings: mention of a weapon, blood, disfigurement

1924, New York City

"Negotiations with the family are going well," Aurora noted with satisfaction as Tommy ushered his fiancée into a waiting car. "At this rate we'll be home by Christmas," she remarked with a gentle smile.

Tommy held the door a moment too long, adoration sparkling in his eyes at the affection she gave so freely.

"Tommy!" Aurora cried in surprise as the driving snow outside began covering her expensive shoes. "What are you doing?" she giggled at his lovestruck face. She paused scrubbing her hands along the sides of her fur coat to reach out for him. "Get in!" she commanded, pulling on his arm.

Tommy shook his head as though coming out of a trance and entered the warmth of the backseat.

As the car sped off into the night, he became mesmerized once again by the twinkle of lights illuminating her profile. Knuckles grazing over the apple of her rosy cheek, his thumb finally came to rest over her plump lips as he murmured softly, "My beautiful bride."

"In five months," she reminded him, thoughts drifting to the elaborate spring wedding she'd been dreaming of since he placed a ring on her finger.

Tommy grunted softly with acceptance, but she sensed the impatience behind it the moment he spoke. "You're my girl now and forever, you understand?" he asked, brow knitted determinedly.

She nodded softly before placing a tender kiss to his lips, "All yours and you're mine," she whispered before Tommy pulled her into his chest.

------------

The bar was crowded as Aurora passed, a cloud of smoke hanging in the air so dense she could scarcely see the tables in her cousin's restaurant. Squeezing Tommy's hand as she guided him toward the back, he followed her to a large table where her father and an associate sat engrossed in conversation. She chuckled as she came close enough to hear her father complaining about the slow service, unable to contain her amusement at his impatience.

The moment Antonio glimpsed his daughter's smile, his scowl melted and he moved to embrace her.

As she leaned in to give her father a peck on the cheek, she teased, "Didn’t I warn you about this place on a Saturday night? It's a good thing I came when I did or you'd be ordering the chef's head on a platter."

"Birichina!" ("Naughty!") he scolded playfully, earning him a mischievous smile. Turning to her fiancé, he remarked, "She never hesitates to say I told you so.”

It was Tommy's turn to smirk at the comment, adding jovially, "I learnt that long ago."

Aurora feigned disapproval with a toss of her head, pouting "Not even part of the family yet and you're ganging up on me!"

"I would never," Tommy promised, placing a kiss to her temple.

Mr. Sabini's face softened watching the two lovers together, wishing his wife were alive to see their daughter find such happiness. However, the moment was soon interrupted by the approach of another couple.

"Don Sabini," Luca Changretta called, tipping his head reverently. When he noticed Aurora by her father's side he added quietly, "Hello Aurora."

Aurora was still processing the sudden appearance of her former lover, barely choking out a reply. “Oh, Luca…What a surprise.” The tone of her voice indicated it was not a pleasant one.

Attempting to move past the awkward moment, Antonio began a polite introduction, "Luca Changretta, meet my future son-in-law, Thomas Shelby." As the don spoke, Luca flashed an insincere smile while extending his hand for the forced pleasantries.

"Mr. Changretta," Tommy repeated slowly as they shook hands, acutely aware of the man standing before him, as well as his unsavory reputation. By all accounts he was a cruel and sadistic man, honor bound to Don Sabini, but equally likely to plot his demise.

For now, he played the subservient underling, making a bit of small talk with his don before Mr. Sabini excused himself to speak with someone else.

The moment he was out of earshot, Luca adjusted the lapels of his suit before looking Tommy over, a judgmental stare radiating down the end of his nose at his replacement. "I heard you dress well, Mr. Shelby. But now I see not so well as me," he taunted with a low chuckle, eyes darting to Aurora's tight expression with satisfaction.

"Who's your tailor? Perhaps I'll have a suit made while I'm here, eh?" Tommy asked, keeping the peace for Aurora's sake.

Luca sucked his teeth as he decided to accept the small victory, answering with a casual shrug, "Fenacci on Mott Street."

Aurora only caught pieces of the conversation after that, gaze drifting to the petite dark haired woman who suddenly appeared at Luca's side. Her small stature allowing for quiet, stealthy movements, Aurora realized she'd likely been watched for several minutes completely unawares.

As they locked eyes, the girl flashed a cheerful smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth unnaturally and Aurora felt an involuntary shiver run down her spine.

Perhaps it was the razor sharp canines she displayed or the obvious heterochromia of the girl's eyes, one black as night and the other a striking yellow. However, something about the woman's very presence made Aurora wish she'd gone unnoticed.

"Meet my girl, Celestina Caccitore," Luca boasted with pride as he wrapped an arm around the young woman's shoulders.

She began a rapid introduction in Italian before Luca squeezed her shoulder. "English, honey. He ain't one of us," he commanded in a low voice.

"Please, call me Tina," she announced in a bubbly voice. "And if you'd like a nice cut of meat while you're in town, my father's butcher shop isn't far from the tailor," she added helpfully.

"We don't have a kitchen where we're staying. It would only go to waste," came Aurora's clipped reply.

Noticing her obvious discomfort, Tommy pulled her into his side, thumb stroking along her hip bone affectionately. The action grounded her instantly, a beatific smile washing over her face.

However, it soon faded as her gaze shifted back to Luca's clenched jaw. Tina didn't seem to notice the chill in the air or if she did, she expertly avoided Aurora's sharp edges by complimenting her glamorous outfit.

When Aurora shook her head modestly, Luca chimed in, "It's true, Aurora, you've always been classy." He only seemed to realize he'd spoken out loud when Tina's eyes flicked up to his anxiously.

Attempting to pull him from whatever daydream he might be having about his ex girlfriend, Tina reminded him of their waiting table.

"Go on ahead, piccolina," he murmured in her ear as he stroked a large hand down her spine.

She turned into his arms, pressing on tip toe to leave a languid kiss upon his lips along with a trace of her favorite lipstick.

As she sauntered away, he swiped at the marking with the pad of his thumb. Then he grew silent as he watched her disappear into the crowd.

Aurora seized the opportunity to needle Luca about the obvious age gap no one else dared mention. "Moving on to the tender cuts these days, Luca?"

A quiet scoff pushed past Luca's lips, a smirk overtaking his handsome features as he relished the chance to spar with Aurora's sharp wit. "Cheaper maybe," he winked, hazel eyes falling to the fur around her shoulders. "La fame è il miglior cuoco, hm?"("Hunger is the best cook, hm?") he growled, fixing Tommy with a stare.

Aurora felt Tommy bristle, fingers pressing into her side possessively at the conspiratorial tone Luca had taken with his fiancée. Roughly clearing his throat to bring the conversation to a close, he announced, "You'll have to excuse us, Mr. Changretta. We're keeping Aurora's father waiting."

Aurora nodded in agreement, though just before she turned her back to Luca, she countered his assertion to make her loyalties perfectly clear. "Non è la fame," ("It is not hunger.) she called to him. "È una voglia di qualcosa di buono,"("It is a craving for something good.") she said, stroking Tommy's arm lightly for emphasis.

Fire flashed in Luca's eyes and his smile faded into a tight line as they left him standing alone in the crowded restaurant, muttering to himself through clenched teeth.

When he found Tina she was waiting in a far corner usually reserved for those who hadn't yet earned their place. She sipped her drink quietly as he seethed over the perceived slight, causing her to pass the glass to him to finish.

Having a temper not unlike his, Tina knew he would soon become unmanageable without a bit of coaxing. "Don't let her get under your skin, baby," she cooed, stroking her nails along his thigh beneath the table. However the tension in his body only grew upon hearing her words.

It was glaringly obvious who had Luca's undivided attention as he sat wedging a toothpick between his lips. The aggravated silence between them only growing with the crescendo of clinking utensils against china and peels of laughter from patrons enjoying their evening. The fact that she was being ignored plucked Tina's nerves, her spiteful heart raging as she followed Luca's line of sight directly to Aurora.

Removing the hand on his leg to cup his chin, Tina brought her boyfriend's gaze back to her. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to stare?" she scolded harshly. Talons digging into his flesh she added ominously, "I think we should do something about that."

Prying her hands away, Luca placed kisses to the inside of Tina's wrists as he assured her, "All in good time..."

Jerking her hands away with a huff, she shook her head. "You don't have time."

Luca reached for her once more, stroking her hair slowly. He tangled his fingers in her long dark mane in a romantic gesture intended to placate her. "I'm building an empire, amore. Something for me and you. Don Sabini is crucial to my plan. so I follow his lead for now, hm?"

Though Tina was younger than Luca, she wasn't lacking in experience. She'd been in the family business her whole life and thus she understood biding your time in careful observation. But she also knew the advantage of striking when your opponent was weak.

It was a known fact that Don Sabini was losing the power he once held over the city and his enterprise had not yet been fortified by the Shelbys. He was ripe for the taking if only Luca wouldn't hesitate. It would be an added bonus to strike at Shelby, the leader of the gang who had left her heart and skin scarred by their violence.

The murderous look already written upon her face signaled Tina's thoughts without need of words. Luca tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, eyes drifting to the scar above her eyebrow. He sensed her mood turning at that moment, whispering promises he hoped would soothe her. "When I'm don, the Shelbys will get theirs. You have to trust me."

Hating the condescending tone of his voice and the insinuation she needed him to fight her battles caused the balance to tip, a decision made in her wayward mind as she stole a glance across the room.

-----------------

"Where are you off to so early?" Tommy asked, watching Aurora slip into her heels.

"Shopping," she chirped happily. "Presents don't magically appear under the tree, you know."

"You've already bought half of New York, love. We're going to need a few more trees," he joked, stubbing out his cigarette.

Coming to stand over the desk where he'd been working since dawn, she placed a kiss to the top of his head. "I'll add them to my list," she quipped, laughter ringing in her soft voice. As she scoured the mountain of paperwork in front of her fiancé, a heavy sigh escaped her lips. "Take a break, Tom. Come with me today," she urged, massaging his shoulders gently.

Tommy clasped a hand over hers as he shook his head. "The sooner I finish this, the sooner we can go home."

He turned to find a crestfallen Aurora. She wasn't accustomed to being denied and he hated to disappoint her. Remembering the small package stashed in the drawer next to him, he reached for it with a sly grin. "Besides, I've already finished my shopping."

He presented the box to her with an uncharacteristically timid look. To his relief, Aurora accepted it graciously and quickly began to untie the bright red string holding the paper closed. Her childlike enthusiasm made him chuckle.

As she opened the box, a gold locket winked back at her. "It's beautiful," she remarked, tracing her fingertips over the shiny metal.

"Open it," Tommy urged, leaning forward to savor the unmistakable twinkle in her eye.

The locket clicked apart, revealing a photo of them at their engagement party six months ago. "Oh, Tommy..." Aurora breathed, trembling hands removing it carefully. "Help me?" she asked, offering the necklace to Tommy.

He clasped the cool metal to her throat, turning her toward him so he could take in the sight of her beaming face. "I love you," she declared before leaning in for a soft kiss.

"I love you," Tommy replied. Adjusting the locket on her slender neck, he proclaimed, "Now I'll be with ya all day."

"A clever technicality," she tutted, pressing one final kiss to his lips.

-----------------

Feet aching and cheeks chapped from the cold wind, Aurora sought warmth inside Fennaci's to complete her last errand of the day. Rushing inside to order shirts for Tommy, she could only think of the moments after when she'd join him back at the hotel. The image of him greeting her with open arms made her smile to herself.

Removing her gloves to ring the bell at the counter, she shivered from the sudden chill racing down her spine. It might have been the snow clinging to her coat, but she couldn't deny a discomforting sensation tingling in her veins.

As her call for assistance went unanswered, she thought of Tommy and how displeased he'd be to learn she'd given her driver the rest of the day off. Suddenly she wondered if he had been right to insist on someone accompanying her. Fingertips ghosting over the locket that had grown warm next to her soft skin, she took a deep breath to steady herself.

She shook her head to dismiss the thought of harm coming to her in her father's neighborhood and began to wander the shop making selections. The peace and quiet of the small shop soon became comforting to her and she enjoyed choosing a tie that would match Tommy's brilliant blue eyes.

With the sound of approaching footsteps, Aurora sighed in relief. "I was beginning to think..." she trailed off when she turned to find Tina standing behind her. Fingers clenching the fabric in her hands, Aurora failed to conceal her fear as she demanded, "What are you doing here?"

"Fennaci is my uncle," Tina announced, her yellow eye catching the light as she tilted her head curiously. "Did you need something? I can help if you like," she offered in a saccharine voice.

"And what does a butcher know about fashion?," Aurora countered.

"Not as much as a refined woman like you, I suppose," she shrugged with a faint smile that soured slightly on the finish.

"I can come back," Aurora offered, dropping the tie she'd unconsciously been clenching between her hands.

"But you're here now," Tina protested. "He'll be terribly disappointed in me if I don't at least show you his work," she added, the cheerfulness returning the moment she chose a double breasted pinstripe to present to Aurora. "You see the care he takes in his work? Every stitch, stitched with blood." The scar above her eyebrow pulled taut as she raised it to emphasize her question.

Aurora gulped harshly, averting her eyes when she realized she'd been staring. "It's very...nice," she agreed, pretending to choose another tie from the table beside her.

"That one matches your dress," Tina noted with glee. "Come look," she offered, extending a hand toward the mirror in the corner. She pulled Aurora along with the enthusiasm of a school friend anxious to share a secret.

Aurora found herself moving though her legs felt heavy with each step. She longed to be finished, but Tina seemed insistent on stalling her. Surreptitiously casting a glance in the three way mirror, Aurora noticed Tina grin wildly as she held the tie up for consideration. Her sharp teeth inches from Aurora's face, she felt herself tense. "No, I don't think I like it," came her forceful reply, but Tina continued to bear her fang like teeth with manic delight.

"You say yes or no and that decides it, hm?" Tina asked, circling Aurora where she stood rooted in fear.

"What do you want, Tina?" Aurora asked, eyes following the girl's movements cautiously and noting when her gaze wandered to the locket around her neck.

"Beautiful necklace," Tina hummed to herself, opening it to reveal the sentimental photo inside.

"Is that why you’re with Luca then? The money?" Aurora scoffed.

"I could give a shit about your little baubles," Tina whispered harshly, forcing the locket shut between her thumb and forefinger.

Aurora nodded in understanding. "Then it’s all about power. Well let me tell you something Luca will never be don," she spat.

Tina became deathly still at Aurora's side, a single finger venturing forth to tenderly brush a lock of glossy chestnut hair from her shoulder. The overly familiar gesture sent shivers through Aurora, wanting nothing more than to run. However, she knew the kind of woman she was facing, the animalistic nature raging beneath the calm surface.

"You can do more without him," Aurora encouraged her, holding Tina's gaze in the mirror.

Tina nodded thoughtfully, an heir of gratitude seeming to pour from her eyes at the mention of her capabilities. "I intend to," she confided.

"Then come work for us," Aurora offered, eyeing Tina warily to see if the bribe might work.

"You'd like that, wouldn't you? Having me to command like a dog," Tina asked with far less emotion than her words conveyed.

"Do what you will," Aurora said nonchalantly, inhaling a deep breath before readying herself to walk away. "You want a place at the table? You earn it," she sniffed at Tina.

Tina reached for one of the many knives hidden on her body as she hissed, "Who said you were fucking invited?" Shoving the blade beneath Aurora's chin, she held it there as she scoffed, "Earn it? You've used your beauty to your advantage your whole life. And your father only encouraged it."

Aurora's heart banged against her ribs as she came to realize Tina's hatred for her. Trembles wracked her body as Tina raised the knife to her lips, sliding the blade sideways until it pressed against her teeth.

"Give us a smile, principesssa," Tina cooed to her, waiting for the inevitable tears that would ensue. When Aurora didn't give her the satisfaction she roared, "You stuck up little bitch. Let's see if anyone listens to you now." Forcing the blade into Aurora's flesh she added, "They certainly won't want to look at you!"

Aurora's scream erupted into the open space, the agony of her cries going unnoticed by the woman torturing her. If anything, the sound spurred Tina on, widening the cuts she made to Aurora's mouth until blood spilled across her hands like rain.

Knowing she could die at the hand of this madwoman any moment, Aurora elbowed Tina in the ribs. A harsh grunt from her assailant spurred her on further, stomping a sharp heel to Tina's toe which caused her to lose balance.

Face covering her sore and bleeding mouth, Aurora ran from the shop and for many blocks thereafter. When she could run no more, she collapsed against a building, tears and mascara streaming down her ruined face.

-------------

1925, Birmingham

"It's been a fucking year. Where is she?" Tommy asked Polly, grief stricken still by the disappearance of his fiancée.

"Tommy, if Aurora doesn't return..." Polly broached the delicate subject before Tommy went mad.

"She will return! I know she will," Tommy, asserted forcefully before downing another glass of whisky.

Polly could only nod in agreement when he was lost in thought as he was today. No good would come of explaining that Aurora Sabini was as good as dead.

That is until Johnny Dogs arrived with word from London. "Tom! Tom!" he persisted loudly. "They've found her! She's living in London with Darby Sabini."

Tommy could scarcely believe the rumor, but his impatience drove him to seek her out that very night. If his love was nearby, he needed to know.

Parking his car outside the address he'd been given, he steadied his nerves with one final smoke. He replayed the messages relayed in the time Aurora had been away, wondering if the rumors of her disfigurement were indeed true. He resolved he didn't care as he let his cigarette fall beneath his boot. Now he would need to convince her. If she would see him...

----------

"My name is Thomas Shelby and I'm here to see Miss Sabini," Tommy introduced politely to the maid at the door.

"I'm afraid she isn't receiving vistors," the girl before him replied.

"Would you please tell her it's of great importance?" Tommy asked with a sharp inhale of breath. He'd come a long distance and he wouldn't be turned away so easily.

"I'll ask the master," the maid replied with a quick bob.

What seemed hours later, Tommy was admitted into Darby Sabini's home. He waited on the plush sofa in the parlor until he heard the distinct sound of heels upon the polished hardwood, his spirits lifted with each click and clatter.

As the doors before him opened, he was unprepared for the sight that greeted him. His fiancée stood before him with a jagged line on either side of her mouth, a fixed smile so gruesome he felt sick at the sight of it.

Nonetheless he greeted her with enthusiasm, overjoyed to see she was indeed alive after all this time.

"Aurora! I...I thought you were dead," Tommy admitted.

Aurora moved to the fireplace, shielding her face from view as she responded, "No, I've been here for some time."

Tommy rose to cross to her, but thought better of it considering the chill in her voice. "I never stopped looking for you in New York," he explained. "When your family said they thought you were..."

"Dead?" Aurora completed his sentence with little emotion. "But I was Tommy. The moment my father looked upon my face he collapsed with heart attack. So you see, I couldn't bear to reveal myself to you."

Tommy felt a swell of emotion in his chest, remembering the funeral of Don Sabini. The family members in attendance were loathe to mention the daughter now cast aside.

"It wasn't your fault, love," Tommy assured her, stepping forward to brush his hand against her face as he'd done so many times before. "I wished so many times to see you."

She bristled at his touch, wishing his gaze were anywhere except the angry scars which refused to blend into her skin.

"Don't you see why I couldn't return?" she asked, voice straining with pent up emotion.

"No, I don't," Tommy admitted truthfully. "Our wedding came and went without you and I could do nothing but mourn," he said softly, eyes glossy with unshed tears. "You swore you'd be my girl now and forever," he reminded her of his promise so long ago in New York. "Are you still?" he asked hopefully.

Aurora could hardly speak for the lump in her throat, wanting nothing more than to run into his arms at that very moment. He was seeing her and accepting her for who she was despite all that had happened. "Tommy..." she cried, salty tears falling upon her cheeks in earnest as she viewed his lovestruck gaze. It remained the same look of love and devotion he'd shown from the start of their relationship.

"Can I kiss you, please?" Tommy asked in desperation. Their bodies collided indelicately, lips and teeth clashing in a frenzied response. When they finally parted Tommy made two solemn vows. One, they would be wed the next day. "No more waiting," he insisted.

"No," Aurora agreed.

And two, "We kill Luca Changretta and Tina Caccitore."

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#Peaky Blinders fanfic #Peaky Blinders imagine #Tommy Shelby x OC #Tommy Shelby #Luca Changretta

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