#I read it over quarantine and I want to read it again

[rubra-wav]

Taking care of the main cast while they're sick

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, platonic, very briefly suggestive in Angel's, in the order of who gets sick first - last

<< [ Part 1 ]

Charlie

- She's truly a wet cat when she gets sick.

- Will not stop crying and being emotional the whole time. She hates not being able to sing or go out and about.

- Is even more emotional when you volunteer to take care of her as you're no longer as likely to get sick again.

- She's so happy she's not gonna be all alone.

- She hates being locked away in her room and not being able to participate in group activities.

- Insists they still go on without her like she's about to die from not being able to be there with them.

- Charlie spends the whole time wrapped up in a blanket in bed and watching kids' movies. I hope you like Disney movies, because she won't put on anything else.

- Says they make her 'heart' feel not sickly like she is.

- You will be cuddling her because if not, she won't stop sobbing. Vaggie is keeping her distance from her because she doesn't want to get sick too.

- I hope you're also ready to get your ear talked off by a very passionate dreamer who's been under house lock for a week because oh boy.

- For the last few days, she's gonna be trying to leave her room or convince you to let her leave. She's going antsy and stir-crazy by the end of it.

- She's extremely clingy to you as you're essentially her caretaker for the week she's sick.

- Eventually Vaggie caves in to ger girlfriend, and takes over for you anyways. Then Vaggie catches it. 💀

- Apologetic afterwards to you.

Vaggie

- She's disappointed but not really surprised.

-Probably the best and most composed of all of them when she gets sick.

- She doesn't too much like being seen sick as it makes her feel vulnerable, but when you assure her you don't think any less of her she's a lot less stiff about you being there.

- She will just chill in her room the whole time, probably reading or writing notes to remind her to do stuff when she gets out.

- The whole time she just sighs, sounding extra irritated and absolutely done with life.

- She needs to sit in darkness most of the time because she keeps getting migraines.

- Will absolutely insist she can look after herself and that she doesn't need someone near her at all times like Charlie.

- Will accept you bringing her food, helping with her duties guarding, and bringing her reports about what's gone on around the hotel.

- Really appreciates the reports actually.

- By the end of it she's considering bringing you on to possibly permanently help her out because you absolutely would be helpful.

- Most of her socialisation energy is taken up by Charlie, so she's very likely just gonna wanna be left on her own through most of it.

Niffty

- Despite being told not to, Niffty goes into the room's of those who are sick to clean, and that's how she gets sick.

- An absolute fucking nightmare to look after. It's not just you, it's also Vaggie who needs to keep her at bay.

- She doesn't understand 'rest' and 'quarantine', those do not exist.

- There will have to be a 24/7 watch on her to keep her in her room because my God, she does not sleep and stays just as insane but becomes delirous.

- Will be there barely able to stand and still cleaning.

- You will literally have to pick her up and carry her kicking back to her room.

- The only way to get her to go sleep is to get her a tranquiliser.

- There's a greatly annoying back and forth between Alastor, you and Vaggie as Alastor has the tranquilliser she usually has but just refuses.

- Thank christ when Angel just goes 'fuck this' and gets another type like it to knock her out.

- After that it's better. Niffty becomes extremely clingy to you or Vaggie while she's sedated. Vaggie walks out after the solution is found, leaving you to take care of her on your own.

- So you just cuddle her while doing whatever you have brought to do in her room.

- Afterwards she's probably gonna be clinging to you extra. She's imprinted on you during this period low-key

- It's exhausting, and you don't succeed in stopping her from spreading germs (which is ironic considering she's supposedly the clean one)

- Pentious, Husk and Angel all get sick in quick succession after Niffty.

Pentious

- His 1800's ass is gonna be so dramatic.

- Not overdramatic, because he's scared for obvious and understandable reasons.

- But still dramatic.

- He's gonna be needing reassurance every three seconds on this, and even then, he's gonna be all weepy.

- Straight up thinks he's gonna die.

- "Bring me out to the garden one last time" type attitude.

- When it becomes clear he's not going to die in approximately 10 seconds, he calms down a bit, but he's still super anxious.

- Will absolutely want to cuddle you (along with his egg boys) while he's still super delirious.

- You gotta like tight hugs because when I say cuddle, I mean he will be full-body wrapping around you with his tail around your legs and arms around your shoulders.

- Denies it happening outright after his temperature comes down, though, and is super embarrassed.

- Cheers up at about the 4 day mark.

- Stays in his room with you and probably just discusses and brainstorms ideas for different kinds of weapons and machines.

- Tbh, after he's not contagious anymore and can leave again, he's probably gonna be jealous that you're no longer giving him as much attention as you were.

Angel

- Oh, he's so mad about it.

- He dodged getting sick off of you, Charlie and Vaggie only to get sick because Niffty refused to stay down.

- The whole time he's also really anxious because he's scared Val is gonna order him to come in while he's unwell and force him to still into the studio to do some weird sickness kink type shit.

- Luckily, Val doesn't reach out at all in the time he's sick.

- Him, Husk and you kinda just chill out together doing stuff like watching movies and talking shit.

- Vaggie orders them to stick together to avoid the chance of infecting anyone a second time, and the whole time you're near them, you need to wear a mask.

- Angel is not a clingy sick person. In fact, he doesn't wanna be cuddled at all (at least in the first few days)

- Doesn't like you seeing him sick because he thinks it's super gross.

- He's getting too hot and then too cold every 3 seconds and is super annoyed over it. Just keeps angrily putting on layers and then taking them off again.

- He doesn't like getting cuddled, but he does like you taking care of him and asking if he needs anything, and you reassuring him he'll get better soon.

- He so rarely gets taken care of in that way, so he absolutely eats it up.

- Probably takes to sarcastically calling you parental nicknames when you tell him he has to take meds/eat/drink whatever.

- He starts going absolutely stir crazy by the end of it as well, he hates being cooped up.

- Very appreciative when he's finally able to gtfo and do stuff again.

Husk

- He's by far the most pissed off about getting sick (that you're aware of at least)

- He kept trying to tell Niffty to go away and go to bed, but she just kept clinging to him.

- The whole time he's unwell, he has to suffer through Alastor laughing at him, which all makes it so much worse.

- Alastor just periodically shows up to bully him, and you need to call Vaggie to kick him out for you.

- Husk does not like you trying to take care of him, and will promptly tell you to fuck off with no hesitation if you start trying to caretake him outside of getting him food and stuff.

- He's also not happy because when he's really delirious, he is actually extremely affectionate.

- The whole time he's running a fever and especially sick, he will be trying to cling to anything around but especially you.

- Does the type of thing during that period that animals do when you stop petting them and they just. Start whining and looking at you pleadingly for more attention.

- He's horrendously embarrassed about it.

- He relaxes a bit when you promise him not to ever bring it up again, but he's still extremely grumpy.

- Especially because he lowkey blames you as you're the root of the sickness, even though you did everything right with isolating and trying to make sure nobody else caught what you had.

- His appreciation is fairly low in comparison to the others.

Alastor

- Sick? Take care of him?

- HA. Funny joke.

- He doesn't get sick.

- At least, that's what he says and is absolutely fucking horrified and furious when he actually does end up unwell.

- He tries to hide it behind him being 'busy' in his radio tower and 'to leave him alone to his devices'

- Will never ever admit he's sick, let alone allow you to truly take care of him. Even the thought fills him with such disgust that his smile almost wavers.

- You don't see or hear from him the whole time, but you can tell he's sick. Some kind of intuition.

- You just bring him stuff to eat, drink and take and leave it outside the door - hauling ass tf away as you knock on the door.

- He still knows you know and are bringing him stuff, and it pisses him off massively.

- He doesn't ever bring it up though afterwards, and if you do? You're gonna suffer ngl.

-

Masterlist

[hsllfirescoopsreblogs]

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「 ✦ Joel Miller ✦ 」

╰┈➤18+ none of these stories belong to me! this is a masterlist of all joel miller stories i’ve read and reblogged! just thought it would be nice to have them all in one spot! (if your fic is on here and you wish not to be, please let me know!) some with have summaries if provided <3

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𓆱 declined pt2 pt3 by @alltheirdamn

❀You're on a cross-country road trip when your tires blow, and you're forced to get them fixed at a small town mechanic shop. When your card declines, you only have one other option to get your car back.

𓆱a happy man by @psychedelic-ink

❀when your friend sets you up on a blind date, you had no idea how impactful it would be.

𓆱once again in your arms by @foli-vora

❀the day of the outbreak, reader and baby were in town and she couldnt call joel (or viceversa) cause the phone lines were down. they were separated for a few years until they arrives at the quarantine zone he's in, and he recognizes them in the crowd.

𓆱invisible sting by @quin-ns

❀ bill and frank host. tess is jealous. joel is confronted with his feelings. you cry over a shower

𓆱snowflakes, a fireplace, and you by @swiftispunk

❀you get more than you bargained for when you end up snowed in at miller's inn on christmas eve.

𓆱 seams by @fuckyeahdindjarin

❀seamstress!reader

𓆱 joel drabble by @suzdin

𓆱 as long as you want pt2 by @auteurdelabre

❀ When you're injured in the stables one morning your patrol partner and enemy Joel Miller is the only one there to help.

𓆱 @stylesispunk

❀ the not so invisible string

- you and Joel were made right for each other in the wrong time. Now, thirteen years later your paths crossed when both of your daughters get in trouble at school. Would be the right time for you now?

❀ i couldn’t want you anymore

- when Sarah's mom came back into Joel's life to fight for their past relationship, Joel needs to convince he is in a happy relationship with the florist next to his gallery in order to make her go away. The problem is, he and the florist can't stand each other's guts or that it's what he thinks.

𓆱 the falling pt2 by @getitoutofmymindwrites

❀you catch Joel cheating on you. The world comes crushing down.

𓆱 greener memories of better men by @netherfeildren

❀Best Story of the Day! South Austin elementary school started a “Breakfast With Dads” program but many dads couldn’t make it and several students didn’t have father figures. The school posted fliers at the local YMCA’s for 50 volunteer fathers… 600 different people from all backgrounds showed up…

𓆱 jealous by @eufezco

❀you’re a little jealous of tess.

𓆱 soft sweet by @cavillscurls

❀You share your first kiss with the last man you ever expected: your older, grouchy, overly protective patrol partner, Joel Miller.

𓆱 5+1 by @bluebeary-jay

❀5 times you wanted to kiss Joel, and 1 time it actually happened

𓆱 needs by @toxicanonymity

❀Joel wants to find a bed before you go all the way, but neither of you can wait that long.

𓆱 wildflower and barely by @yellowharrington

❀after deciding to change your age range on a dating app in hope of a change of scenery, you stumble across joel miller.

𓆱 arms tonite by @motherjoel

❀basically its YOU who gets stabbed by the baseball bat. joel isnt good with feelings. david does not exist david cant hurt anybody. a bit of angst and a bit of fluff. also LOOSELY based on arms tonite by mother mother

𓆱 don’t take the girl by @alt-vera

❀when faced with a life-threatening choice, joel miller makes a surprising confession.

𓆱 feels so right by @fake-bleach

❀Your college boyfriend's a dick, and it doesn't help that he dragged you along with him to a bar just to treat you like shit. You plan on catching a ride home after an incident between you two, but turns out that your dad's best friend's there too, and he saw everything. He ends up offering you a ride instead, but there's no promises that you make it back home for the night.

𓆱 sweetheart by @dustydaddyyy

❀you're home from college for summer '99 to visit your parents, when your eye wanders upon their next-door neighbor, joel miller.

𓆱 honey stained hands by @undercoverpena

❀He knew what Jackson was when he arrived the second time. A communal, a place where everyone chips in. It's why he doesn't turn his nose up when he's given menial tasks. One of which, is fixing his neighbour's porch. His neighbour, who is pretty and smiles too sweetly, bakes cakes for special birthdays, and stares at the toolbox he's been given with a haunted look, one which raises more questions than answers.

𓆱 @joelscruff

❀softdom joel

-a collection of important moments between you and joel miller, your grumpy new patrol partner in jackson, wyoming.

❀one thing im missing

-you and joel accidentally end up falling asleep together, and what follows is the beginning of a quiet and tender relationship neither of you saw coming.

𓆱 @punkshort

❀somewhere to run

-You move to a small town in the middle of Texas to escape your past and start over. You don't expect to fall for the town's handsome sheriff.

❀i hate when you’re right

-After a heated argument with Joel, you finally convince him into leaving Jackson so you could explore a store for new clothes, and what happens could change your life forever.

𓆱 @eupheme

❀ in the woods somewhere

-When a break-in startles you awake, it’s hard not to assume the worst. But when the thief is revealed to be a teenager just trying to help her wounded guardian - you find your heart softening.

❀ are you mine?

-A change in your usual patrol schedule, a dash of over-protectiveness, and a gossipy partner leads to you desperately wish you could turn back time

𓆱 @gutsby

❀ hating game

-Celebrating your dad’s birthday at the yacht club becomes damn near unbearable when Joel Miller brings a date along too. Jealousy and hate sex ensue.

❀ abstaining game

-The only thing worse than an anti-sex retreat is an anti-sex retreat with your former fuckbuddy and dad’s best friend. Especially when sharing one cabin.

𓆱 kiss to kiss by @jobean12-blog

❀Joel is grumpier than usual and the only way to make it better is YOU.

•MASTERLIST

•PEDRO PASCAL CHARACTERS MASTERLIST

hopefully all links work, let me know if not <3

last updated april 16, 2024

[operator-report]

In middle school, I read a short story for English class called Flowers for Algernon. Maybe you’ve read it, too. In the story, a disabled man named Charlie is given a medicine that cures his disability. Over the course of the story, he comes to realize that his “cure” is temporary and that he will “regress” into being disabled again. The story makes it clear that this is a tragedy. As a disabled teenager when I first read it, the story affected me deeply.

I’d like to talk about David and Noelle. 

Content warnings for discussion of suicide, self-harm, ableism and eating disorders below the cut. Spoilers for Worm through arc 27. 

When I was first reading arc 18, one of the things that stuck out to me is how much time the story spends on Eidolon. For me, it was the first time I paid much attention to him - prior to that, Eidolon was just an extremely powerful background character to me. But in arc 18, we learn that (1) Eidolon is losing his powers and (2) he believes that fighting Echidna will allow him to tap into some sort of reservoir to bring them back.

We find this out, of course, through Tattletale exposing him, which is always an extremely embarrassing event for Tattletale’s target. It makes it extremely clear that what Eidolon is doing is pathetic. He is going to kill a teenage girl so he can feel something. 

Which would be messed up enough, right? We don’t need to make this even worse, right? Wrong. Because Wildblow has spent the last several thousand words building up the Case 53s as X-Men style metaphors for oppressed groups, and one of the forms of oppression that Wildblow generally writes well is ableism. I think you can consider most, if not all of the Case 53s as disabled in some way. I think the link is extremely clear with Noelle.

Noelle doesn’t get her powers from traditional Cauldron human experimentation - at least, not directly. Instead, she and Krouse are facing what is, to them, a no-win scenario. They’re quarantined with limited access to medical care. Breaching this quarantine would permanently render them criminals. If Noelle survives her surgery, which is a pretty big if, she’ll become disabled, in a way that both Krouse and Noelle agree is ugly and undesirable. She won’t be able to do “boyfriend-girlfriend stuff” because she won’t be “any good to look at, after.” 

Krouse and Noelle are terrified of death, yes, but they’re also terrified of disability. They are desperate for control over Noelle’s body, control that, as of that moment, only the state has. (Remember the quarantine?) Krouse pressures Noelle into drinking the vial. Noelle is cured. 

Noelle’s cure does not last. In attempting to assert control, her body becomes uncontrollable. Her body is her trauma and her eating disorder made literal. She still needs care.

Worm would be bad if this is why her life sucks. But Worm does something better, instead. Noelle goes through hell, not just due to the sheer difficulty of having her power, but because of the way her teammates and Coil treat her. They talk about Noelle like she’s already dead. They’re ashamed of bringing her the food she needs. When Krouse “includes” Noelle in a discussion in arc 12, it’s mostly perfunctory. They do not believe Noelle is human any longer. They lock her away.

Noelle doesn’t want to be put in a cage. Noelle doesn’t want to be dehumanized. In interlude 18, when we get insight into Noelle’s thoughts, we learn that what Noelle is angry about is the fact that Krouse locked her in a concrete bunker and placated her. When she tells people not to look at her, there’s a coda to that sentence that she doesn’t get to verbalize: don’t look at me like that. 

This is the person who Eidolon is going to kill. 

Via the Simurgh, this is a person Eidolon has unknowingly created.

A few thousand words of Worm go by. It’s Gold Morning. Eidolon is fighting Scion. Now, at the end of the book, we finally get substantial insight into David, the man behind the mask. 

David takes a Cauldron vial to cure his disability. David sees this as the only way out, after an unsuccessful application to join the military, and then, an unsuccessful suicide attempt. David is bearing an immense amount of shame and internalized ableism. David is worried that father’s friends are watching him. (Don’t look at me.) David cleaves the world into two kinds of people: those who can have jobs, who are liked and respected because they are useful; and people like him, who are useless.

It’s a terrible way to think. Without that worldview, how could a person not take the vial? David wants to be used, because David wants to be useful. He never gets the independence he craves – not when he’s in that level of debt to Cauldron – but he gets to be useful, and that’s one of the best things you can be.

Like Noelle’s, like Charlie’s in Flowers, David’s cure doesn’t work. His abilities are wearing off. He is essentially told, when Doctor Mother administers his booster shots, that his medicine is too expensive. 

Cauldron creates Noelle. David, as Cauldron’s soldier, has a role to play in her creation. David knows exactly what he is doing to Noelle. It happened to him. Worm fandom talks a lot about David being a father. He’s a father in more ways than one. (David’s father is always watching him.) (Don’t look at me.)

Cauldron never cures David’s ableism. In his world, you can be useful, or you can die. David asks Noelle if she wants to win. Noelle tells him no. You can have a job, or you can kill yourself. When David tries to kill Noelle to help himself, isn’t that a mercy?

Of course it isn’t. It goes without saying that all of this is extremely fucked up. When it comes to disability, “cure” is a complicated concept. I’m not going to get into all the ways it can be treated; this post is already a thousand words long. But I do think that Worm, through Noelle and David and the concept of the Cauldron vial, provides an extremely vivid picture of the problems with cure. 

Under ableist logic, when you have a disability, a cure is something you’re expected to want. Without it, the story goes, you can’t be useful. You can’t do boyfriend-girlfriend stuff. The expectation is social, like the act of staring. Your desire for it should drive how you organize your life – it is control, like a quarantine. David is crushed by that expectation. He throws his lot in with Cauldron, the cure-makers. The expectation is passed along to Noelle, and even though David can recognize that inheritance, he cannot imagine any other way to respond to it other than attempted murder.

At the beginning of this post, I mentioned that Flowers for Algernon is a tragedy. The reason that story has stuck with me so long is that I keep going back and forth as to why. Is it a tragedy because Charlie goes back to being disabled? There’s a good chance that’s what the author intended. I don’t know. It would be a pretty shitty story if that were the case. Is it a tragedy because people only treat Charlie well when he’s “cured,” and when that stops, he’ll go back to abuse? Seems plausible. I don’t think there’s one right answer. Regardless, when you’re disabled, there’s an immense pressure to seek out a cure, and a cognizable loss when it is withheld. The fact that Worm captures that social pressure and social loss so well is extremely compelling for me, and I’m going to be thinking about these characters for a long time.

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Cold as ice II

a/n because why not take an opportunity to cry some more. I am so thankful for all the love honestly! You guys are the best!✨🤍

summary: what happens when Ellie stumbles upon a memorial that turns out to have both your and Joel's kids names on it. When the past pain is brought back to the daylight even the coldest of hearts finally break.

This can be read as a standalone but is written as a part two to Cold as ice.

warning: Killing, mentions of multiple death, loosing your kids, supplement use, mention of miscarriage, trauma but I think this is not as bad as the first part lol.

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"How is she?", Tommy approached Joel in a tight corridor that was filled with both sobbing people and soldiers shouting. "The same," Joel ran a hand over his face, "They are moving everyone out of here today. To a different quarantine facility." Those words instantly sparked something in Joel. "What? Shit, she's still pumped up with meds", if the process of going there was as torture as it was getting here, you barely stood a chance.

"Joel", Tommy started, but Joel was all up at his face within a heartbeat, "Tommy, if you'll tell me one more fucking time to leave her by. I will blow out your brain's myself". The tone was anything but pleasant. Joel had been wanting to rip someone to pieces for some time now. He had beaten the stranger to a pulp here after the first day. The man was standing in front of the door that led to your room. Crunched down to look through the little window. Joel didn't ask questions; he just swung a punch. Nor did he remember much besides that when Tommy pulled him away, the man was nothing but a pool of blood.

"You know that's not what…", "She lost two kids…", Joel's words cracked mid-sentence as the thought of his two angels once again swirled in his mind. His biggest and most precious little bugs were taken away like that. "So did you, man", Tommy brought Joel closer to him. Joel's arms moved to grip the material of his brother's jacket. He didn't want to cry, but the sob had come out of nowhere. The past three days have been a nightmare and then some. Now Joel was sure that he was paying for all of his sins. Paying in the most brutal ways.

Dragging you away from the field was the second hardest thing Joel ever had to do. He could only pray that his arms would not let him down as he pressed you closer to his body. Joel wasn't sure what they injected into your neck once you reached an army van and practically ripped out the eyes of the soldier who tried to help you into the vehicle, but you collapsed immediately. Joel barely managed to catch you. He pressed your unconscious body against his. Just like he had for the past hour or so. Praying and hoping that you weren't gone. Joel couldn't lose all three of you. Now you were all he had to fight for. No matter how much pain he was in himself. Joel had to drag you both out of the darkness.

Then he sat in the chair next to your bed. If you could even call it that. When they had ushered everyone underground, Joel had bribed a nurse to give you three a room and make sure that a doctor would come to check you. At that time, the price didn't matter. He needed an answer. Needed to know that you were going to wake up. High dose of sedatives - the doctor had said. "But I doubt it'll keep her out for long. After two kids… My apologies. If I'll find any medication", he had placed a supportive palm on Joel's shoulder. Something that would also end up feeling so foreign soon.

If Joel thought seeing you unconscious was difficult, it didn't compare to the heartbreak he had to endure the moment you opened your eyes. You jolted with a gasp. Eyes jumped across the room as you tried to figure out where you were. "Love…", Joel stood up, slowly approaching you. "Sarah… Malakai," you murmured as you continued to look around. "How about a glass of water, huh?", Joel asked, hoping to sway the topic. But you pushed the blanket off your body. "Sarah and Malakai," you repeated. Joel clenched his jaw. "Sarah and Malakai," "Love, stay in bed," Joel put his hands on your legs, stopping you from pushing them over the edge. "Sarah…Malakai", you said once again, eyes looking up at Joel, "They killed them. I saw… I saw," you breathed out, pressing a finger to your forehead where the bullet had pierced your son's skull. "I know, baby, I know", Joel tried to gently hold onto you, but the moment his palms touched your arms, you let out the loudest scream. Pushing him away as you turned to the other side of the bed. You dragged your feet over the cold concrete. Sinking to the floor without even being able to take a step forward. Joel rounded the bed as he kneeled in front of you.

"They are dead," you cried out, pulling at Joel's shirt, "My babies… I need to go, I need to…", you tried to pull yourself up by using Joel to brace yourself, but that only made you glance down at your hands, which were still slightly stained by the dried blood that had been on them. "Y/N, you need to calm down. Or they will come in here and", but you paid Joel no mind as you pulled your hands up so you could look at them.

"Get it off," you whispered, "Get it off," pushing your arms towards Joel as you screeched. Joel had scrubbed your unconscious body for hours. There was nothing more he could do. "Joel, get it off," you said once more, tears spilling from your eyes, and Joel couldn't bring himself to do anything. "It's everywhere, get it off", you moved your hand to rub at your skin. All you saw was blood. Blood everywhere. Rubbing turned into scratching, and soon your nails were raking over your skin. Joel quickly caught both of your wrists in his hands. Shaking you slightly as if in hopes of making your return to your senses. "Make it stop", you cried out, hallow eyes looking at Joel. "There's nothing on your hands, love", he barely managed to sound somewhat like himself. But you just shook your head at him, "There's blood all over them. Our kids' blood, Joel."

That was a day ago. Now you just lay there. Leafless. No movements. Eyes blinking once in a while. The only indication that you were still alive. Now Joel wished you would scream. The silence was torture. It was too loud. It pulled you so far away from him. Tommy clapped his brother on the back a couple of times before pulling away. "Get her ready. I'll look at how to get the best spot for you and make sure you two stay together," Joel said nothing. He hoped his eyes said enough. "You look after her. We'll get her back up on her feet," Joel could tell that even if Tommy tried to keep it somewhat positive, he didn't fully believe it himself. Didn't believe that there was any coming back from this. Nor did he believe that you would ever be the same. But Joel nodded anyway.

"Hey", Joel ran a hand over your forehead, once he stepped back into the little room, but didn't get a single movement in return. Not that he was expecting it. "We will have to get you dressed, okay? Then we'll need to go somewhere," Joel said, carefully pulling the blanket off your body before reaching for your clothes. Clothes he had washed. Wash off your kids' blood. Blood that seemed never-ending.

You were shivering. It hadn't stopped ever since you were brought in the first QZ. It had died down a bit. But there wasn't a moment when the quivering stopped. Joel pressed a kiss to your forehead as he walked through the corridor. Everyone was on high alert, and the soldiers were tired. Jumpy even. More than one person was killed here simply in the aftermath of unimaginable stress and anxiety. They only let healthy, strong people stay. Anyone with any injury, even the slightest one, was shot. You needed to stand on your own two feet. Walk through the lines of different specialists. Prove yourself worthy of surviving. And even that didn't guarantee you anything. You could have been hit by a bullet at any point.

You, however, were in no condition to stand. There was no way you could walk, much less talk. "Keep your head at the crook of my neck, love", Joel guided your head to rest there, "I will not let go of you even for a second. No one who will approach us will take you away from me," and at this point, Joel wasn't sure if he was still reassuring you or if it had turned to self-reassuring now. With the help of the doctor who assisted you just as you were brought here. They filed the documents of you having a miscarriage. Right here at the QZ. A piece of paper that had the main doctor's signature and forbade you from walking. That had high dosages of medicine marked as a fallacious move by the doctor itself. That you were more than a healthy female before that, and that you would regain that strength once the medication wore off. The only hope Joel had of getting you out of here alive was that piece of paper. And if that didn't work… Well, Joel was ready to kill anyone who stood in his way.

"Joel," Ellie's sad voice pulled the male out of the trance, "Sorry, I don't know why I'm telling you all of this." Joel rested his palms on his knees, ready to stand up, but Ellie quickly inched forward. It seemed to her that the man in front of her was no longer the same Joel she knew. "How did you… how did you get through that?", she knew the question was stupid. Joel let out a sad chuckle followed by a painful sigh, "You don't even have an idea how much strength you have until you are forced to use it. That's when you truly see your power". Joel had locked his pain away. Behind a plethora of locks, doors, and crevices. So no one could see it. No one could access it. Draped a shield of coldness on top of it. The coldness made Joel seem more like an animal than a human. He had to become a monster in order to protect the only thing that kept his heart beating. Nothing was off-limits when it came to you.

"I felt like I was failing every day. Every day that I saw her lying there," Joel shook his head at the images that haunted him. The feeling of helplessness flowed through him. Joel had found a woman who could pretend to be you for the time being. Who could take your evening shifts. Who kept the target off your back. No one was allowed to lay around in the QZ, there was too much work as it was. "Joel you were far from failing her", Ellie said putting her hand on Joel's palm, "It feels different kiddo when you see someone you love drifting away".

All the worried looks that Joel would give you made sense now. All the times he would walk up to you. Taking a hold of your hand as he looked at you. Moving to kiss your hands at the time, if not that then, Joel would just hold them in his much bigger palms. At the time, Ellie thought that by doing that, Joel was just trying to warm them up during the cold evenings, but now it had a way bigger meaning behind it. That was Joel's silent attempt to make sure that you stayed with him. That you wouldn't drift away. Like a true guard at night, standing his watch. Always ready to fight for you.

"And I felt horrible that I left him all alone", the sound of your voice made the two of them turn toward the door. "I kept on telling myself to get up. You need to do that for Joel, but…", you shrugged your shoulders. Joel reached his arm towards you, and you instantly walked close to him. Settling down on his lap. His arm snaked around your middle as Joel pressed a loving kiss to the top of your head. "I never blamed you for it," Joel whispered, looking straight into your eyes. "I know because you're an angel." You cupped his face gently. Leaning in to press your forehead to his. Brushing your fingers under Joel's eyes as you wiped away the last tears.

This man was everything. If you'd fallen for him and his sense of humor back then. The fact that there was never a dull moment with him that even the most serious moments could be turned into fits of laughter. If you had fallen for how attentive and caring he was toward your kids. The way he always put them first. The way he sat in the bathroom for hours learning how to braid Sarah's hair or how he played astronauts with Momo even after the longest shift. Putting him over his shoulder or back as he ran around the living room making all sorts of noises. Then Joel turned into a rock—a whole mountain that shielded you from the restless sea that threatened to drown you. Never moving. Never scared.

"I don't want you to feel like we've been using you as some sort of… as our kids' replacement. The love I feel towards you…" you started, but Ellie quickly shook her head. "How could I? No, Y/N never," she said quickly, and you reached for her hands. "You are a special girl, Ellie, so special," you said as you brushed your fingers over her cheek, and she leaned into your touch. Trying to savor it for as long as possible. "You both are like my parents and I've never felt that..", Ellie's bottom lip trembled. Joel reached out to her as well.

"And you are our girl," Joel said, his voice shaky, but he knew he had to say it. Had to let her know that his coldness toward her at the start was just his defensive response. His fear of the unknown. The fear of it all ending the same. But Joel knew that once his nightmare shifted and he started to see Ellie dying in Sarah's or Momo's place, he knew that she had sneaked past his guard. Ellie had managed to find that well-hidden spark inside Joel's heart. And there was nothing that could have been done about it.

Ellie wrapped her hands over both of your shoulders, pulling you both into a hug. A light cry slipped from her lips. Your hand instantly moved to rub her back in hopes of soothing her. Joel pressed a tender kiss to the crown of her head before turning his eyes to you. Your teary eyes were already looking back at him. You mouthed a silent "I love you" to him, which Joel returned straight away, followed by a light smile.

Once Ellie pulled away, you both looked at her with fondness. "Thank you for sharing this with me. You didn't have to, but you did," she said, as you rubbed away her tears the same way you had done before. "You are a part of the family now. Family doesn't have secrets," you said softly. "Plus, I think me and Y/N both needed closure", you nodded your head at Joel's words. You had told him multiple times that it was eating you alive that you were keeping this way from Ellie. You could tell that she sensed that something was wrong; she just never asked.

"Do you want to see a picture of them?", you asked, turning to Joel, who you knew had kept a picture of you four. The one he always carried around with him. Tommy had taken it on Momo's second birthday. The summer was in full swing, so you decided to have a barbecue outside. You stood there in a flowy dress, laughing at Sarah, who had a surprised look on her face since Joel had rubbed barbecue sauce on her cheek. Joel's head was thrown back as he laughed. Even Momo, who was nestled in your arms, had somewhat of a grin on his face.

"Sarah would have loved you", Ellie lifted her eyes away from the picture to the sound of Joel's voice. You hummed in agreement, "Momo would have been all over you as well you two cheeky bunch would have gotten into so much trouble". Ellie glanced back down. The image that she saw frozen in front of her seemed almost impossible compared to the two people she had met. But now she knew more than better to not judge the book by its cover. The deepest and most painful scars were always hidden the deepest.

"I would have loved to know them", Ellie said dragging her finger over their faces, "Momo, looks like a minute version of Joel". You let out a little laugh, "That's what I said. Imagine how mad I was after carrying him for nine months and he popped out looking nothing like me". Joel cracked a smile, looking down at the photograph himself. The one he barely pulled out these days.

"If we stay in Jackson, we must build them memorial stones and plant flowers all around them," Ellie said firmly. The tears picked up at the corners of your eyes as you gazed at her. "That's a really beautiful idea, Ellie bear," you said, running your fingers over her hair. Joel nudged Ellie's side playfully, making her let out a chuckle before he brought you closer to him once again. Time healed scars, even if slowly. But you two were here and now you had Ellie by your side. Your hearts, even if covered in scars, still beat for one another. Together, you were capable of anything and everything. Life has already proven that.

[bonezone44]

'Doesn't Nothing Ever Last Forever?' (18+)

Raider!Joel x afab!Reader

Word Count: 5,4k

(FYI: woman in moodboard is a side character.)

Summary: You worked in a brothel outside of a quarantine zone. Every once in a while, you got a visit from Joel and his men. This was your first time being around for one of those visits. (Reader is severely depressed and bisexual [relatable, amiright?]. Reader is not popular at the brothel.)

tags: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT (tagging this to be safe!) Kidnapping, sexual slavery, group sex, overstimulation, rough oral (m). POV switching, canon-typical violence. -- Sex between Reader and Joel is non-con. Reader enjoys it, but the larger context doesn't allow for consent. Fingering, unprotected p-in-v. Degradation. Finger-sucking. Spanking. Orgasm control/denial. Joel is turned on by Reader's history w/ women. Reader is called slut, good girl, bad girl. Reader calls Joel "sir."

A/N: Written for @iamasaddie's writing challenge. ✏ I was so excited by their moodboards, I had to participate. Also, read @toxicanonymity for the original Raider!Joel which heavily inspired this one. 🙏 And special thanks to @milla-frenchy for helping me choose a story line. 😘

story masterlist - main masterlist

+++++

The days bled together, one right after the other. No matter how clear the skies were, a permanent fog had taken over your mind. 

The only reason you woke up that evening was all the commotion. You heard the roar of diesel engines and loud men laughing and yelling. The slamming of car doors. Then those voices got louder and closer. Obviously, they had made their way inside your building. You knew you should rise and shine. Get to work. But you stayed curled up on your bed cushion in the shared room as long as possible. Even after your boss had been calling for you.

It wasn’t the kind of job you punched in and out of. You lived in a brothel. You were paid by the client–and even then sometimes all you got was a spare coin or two. A ration slip, if you were really lucky. But those could only be spent at the nearby Quarantine Zone. And the four hour trek there and back was hell on your feet and knees.

Your boss, Larry, finally opened the door to your room, but didn’t say anything. Instead, he allowed the noise and chaos to do the job of waking you up.

You unfurled from the floor and wandered to the bathrooms, bare fit sticking to the tile floors. You had hoped no one would catch you and make you work. You hadn’t had it in you to do anything that day. What you really wanted to do was float away, fly with the clouds on the wind to somewhere far, far over the rainbow.

You found Trisha at the sinks, under the sickly green lights, already washing cum from her hands. 

“Joel and his crew are here again,” she mumbled. There was a tremor in her voice.

You nodded blankly. Tired.

She turned around and stared at you with wide eyes. “Joel,” she emphasized.

“Okay?” You shrugged. Your eyes bored into a growing mold stain in the corner.  

She scoffed. “Joel is the guy who bought Carrie.”

“What?” … ‘Bought Carrie?’ That didn’t sound right to you. “I just thought… she left.”

Trisha stared at you, aghast. The room was cold, but steam began to fog the mirror. “Are you fucking kidding me? You were there!” She shouted. “You were there when Larry told us he sold her for the fucking water heater!” She pointed at the filling sink.

You blinked. “...Oh.” You wiped your eyes with your hands. “I don’t… really remember.” Her words didn’t quite click it into place for you, but a dull memory played in the back of your mind. You remembered a ‘house meeting’ and hearing Carrie’s name a lot. You remembered getting the water heater. You remembered everyone being upset and yelling at Larry. You remembered curling in the corner, your brain checking out and wandering through the static of your own mind rather than feeling something–anything–in your own body.

That explained all the weird looks you had gotten later when you expressed excitement over the hot water. You had been happy about something for once and everyone responded by staring at you like you were a freak. 

But everyone you had ever met always felt so far away. Like you were so deep in the depths of your own mind that the world around you was a movie you were watching. All the people in your life were characters playing out their roles. So you did, too. You went through the daily motions, following some imaginary script in your mind. Playing a part. Doing whatever you thought you were supposed to.

Trisha started telling you more stories about Joel and his crew. About their violence. But none of it sounded real. It sounded like another movie to you. You stood, unmoving, wishing you had some bleach to clean the mold in the corner. You wanted to scrub the grout until it was pure again. Wipe away the layer of filmy mildew from the ceramic tiles. Disinfect every inch of porcelain in this piece of shit building. 

Another woman entered the bathroom, fully nude. “Well, look who decided to show up!” she spat at you. “Go out there and do your job. I need a fucking break.”

You sighed and resigned yourself to your fate. “Okay,” you muttered without meeting her eyes. You didn’t bother looking in the mirror or worrying about your clothes. You knew that in your line of work, they didn’t make a difference either way.

-

You walked out to the main room and saw about a dozen men scattered around the couches, women in their laps or on their knees. 

One woman was sitting naked in a guy’s lap while another guy roughly rubbed and slapped her clit. His laughter grossed you out. The woman was crying.  

Another woman was getting facefucked and choking. She pulled back to cough and breathe. The man she was sucking on held himself in a tight grip. He pushed the hair from her face and whispered softly to her, wiping away her tears, before shoving his cock right back in.

You nodded at the scene unaffected… well, mostly unaffected. You stared into the middle distance and focused on no one person in particular. The women’s moans were mostly performative–it was obvious. But the men didn’t seem to mind. Their moans were hungry and horny, enjoying whatever stimulation they seemed to be receiving. So that was what you focused on. Their blatant sexual desire. It fueled your own heat. A fire expanding in your chest and between your legs. Your mouth began to water. You sucked in your bottom lip, eager to feel flesh inside you. 

You weren’t sure how long you were standing there, watching. It merely occurred to you at some point that one of the men was walking up to you, blocking your view of the scene. He wore a dark brown leather jacket over a v-neck shirt.  A small, shiny gold cross hung around his neck and against his sunburned skin. He wore blue jeans and work boots.

Your boss, Larry, yammered in one of your ears at him.

“Joel,” he pleaded with clasped hands. “I’m sure you’d prefer someone like Trisha or-or-or Cameron. I’m sure, she’ll be right back out any minute!”

“No,” Joel says gruffly. “Her,” he pointed to you with his chin. 

“I’m sure. I’m sure.” Your boss chuckled uncomfortably and surrendered with empty palms. “Of course!” He grabbed you by the arm and tugged you toward the back of the building. He snarled in your ear. “Don’t fuck this up for me.” 

You wanted to shrug him off, but his grip was bruising. What could you ‘fuck up’ exactly? You had been working there for over a year. You weren’t popular, but you got the job done. You didn’t get along with any of the other women there, but what did that have to do with this guy, Joel?

Larry took you and Joel to one of the farthest rooms. It was the nice one with a real bed instead of a mattress or cushion on the floor. You had never been in it before. Not even to clean it. You looked around appraising the paint on the walls. There was a window, but it was dark out. The noise from the main room was barely audible. You liked being somewhere quiet again. 

#######

Joel and his crew pulled up around dinnertime in two pick-up trucks. The sun had set and the truck’s headlights bathed the front of the old office building in a warm, dull yellow.

The crickets were louder than hell that night. Joel remembered that much.

Not five seconds after his boys hopped out the trucks did the brothel owner come skittering out the front door with a nervous grin on his face.

Joel liked that. Piece o’ shit like that should be nervous. 

Joel hated Larry. The man was fucking pathetic. Weasel-y. So needy and desperate to please. Joel hated that Larry sold him a woman for a water heater. What kinda man would do something like that? This was supposed to be a brothel. The women were supposed to be his employees. He didn’t have the right to sell anybody.

But Joel had wanted her. And taking her outright would have caused more problems than it would have solved. So he figured a water heater would help keep things peaceful between them. Because his boys liked the brothel. Each little trip helped ease their minds. Gave them something to talk about and look forward to–something other than survival.

Joel’s needs were more permanent. He needed something more full-time rather than once every few months.

His boys started hooting and hollering as soon as the payment of supplies were unloaded and they got to hang out inside. The women weren’t even around yet, but they were more than ready for some physical entertainment. Joel remained standing while the rest of them spread out along the decaying leather couches lining the walls. A shitty little cd player sat in the corner playing old R&B music. He heard his brother, Tommy, singing along to it. 

Joel sighed and wiped his face with his hands.

Once Larry brought out a few women, the men started roaring. They were shouting and cheering, pulling their cocks out in excitement. Joel groaned. These boys didn’t know a goddamn thing about seducing a woman and their sad little dicks weren’t gonna get them anywhere neither.

Two of the guys grabbed one of the women, causing her to shout, but Joel was on them not a second later. He gripped their skulls, one in each of his giant hands, and knocked them together like coconut shells. 

“Ouch! What the hell, man?” asked one of them, rubbing the sore spot on his head. 

Joel shook his head with his eyes wide, boring into the depths of their souls. “Not until I say,” he spat.

They both tucked their heads under, murmuring. “Yes, Joel.” “Whatever you say, Joel.”

The woman got back in line while the boys sat down on the couch.

“I’m sure I’ve got a couple more on the way,” said Larry with a forced smile. “They’re just getting themselves cleaned up, I’m sure, after uh…  after finishing dinner.”

Joel grunted. He knew what he wanted–knew what kind of woman he was looking for. And he was quick to realize that none of the women in the room were it. So he waved his hand and his men let loose.

Joel stood with his arms crossed and his back against the front door. He kept his eye on the two troublemakers. Kept his ear on Tommy. Tommy was a talker. He loved to chat up the working women as if he was in a bar back home in Texas and looking to find himself a girlfriend. Joel thought Tommy was being ridiculous—acting like the women could say ‘no’ and walk away. Like he had to put real effort in. It annoyed the hell out of Joel. He wanted his crew to have their fun and be done with it. Why did Tommy have to make it so complicated?

Joel was getting bored and antsy the longer he waited. He was feeling needy, too, with the rough sounds of sex filling the air around him. But he was hopeful, preferring to be patient. And if, in the end, there was no woman he wanted, he would pick one at random and blow off some steam. He would find a replacement some other time or start looking around at the nearest Quarantine Zone.

  Then you walked in. 

And at first, Joel was ready to shrug you off, too. Sure, you were attractive. But looks weren't everything. That's what got him in trouble with the last woman. 

But something in your eyes changed as you scanned the room, taking in the sexual depravity. You didn't shrink in and shut down. You were turned on. He saw the way your chest rose and fell as your breaths shallowed and shortened. The way you chewed your bottom lip. The way you squirmed. That's what Joel needed. Someone as needy as him. 

The brothel owner tried to dissuade him. Huh, Joel wanted to laugh. As if that asshole knew a goddamn thing about what Joel wanted–about what Joel needed.

-

“Take your clothes off ‘n get on the bed,” he ordered after slamming the door shut behind him. He liked how quickly you complied. He didn’t understand why you were so calm, though. He unbuckled his belt, releasing the pressure from his stomach and allowing himself some room to breathe. He let the buckle hang and it jingled as he stepped closer to the bed. 

“All fours.”

Again, you complied swiftly and smoothly, facing the back wall.

He eyed you for any sores. Then he slipped his bare hand around the smooth curve of your ass and his fingertips prodded around your lips and entrance. You were already wet, he realized.  He slid the edge of his fingers forward against your clit. 

You moaned. Something fake and bland. 

He pulled his hand away and slapped you on the ass. “Hey.”  He grabbed you by the cheeks when you didn't immediately face him. Your eyes never met his. “Don't fuckin showboat me,” he warned. 

“Okay,” you said flatly. 

He didn’t like how detached you were. How unafraid. But he willed himself to be patient–the amount of wetness coating his fingers eased his anxiety. He continued to play with your folds as he asked questions.

He cleared his throat. “You like workin here?”

You shrugged. “It’s a job.”

“How long you been here?”

“About a year.”

Joel hummed. “I don’t remember you from last time.”

“Probably had the flu.” 

“You got over it okay?”

“Mm-hmm,” you nodded, closing your eyes. You seemed to like it when he moved his thick fingers around you real slow. He liked that.

“You got anything else? Any diseases?”

You shook your head. “I don’t get a lot of men.”

Joel paused. “Why not?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. They like the other girls better.”

“Why’s that?”

You shrugged again. “They’re better at fakin it.”

Joel didn’t know how to feel about that answer. He continued to rub your clit, feeling you get slicker. “So what? You do handjobs, blowjobs?”

“Mostly.”

He noticed an uptick in the tone of your voice. “You like doin those?”

“If the guy is cute.”

He slid his fingers from your clit to your entrance to your other hole. He didn’t push in, only pressed against it, and you sighed. “What about this?” he asked, biting his lip. “You like gettin your ass played with?”

You hung your head and nodded. “If they do it right,” you said with another uptick in your tone. 

Joel liked that. “Ever have a train run on ya?” He slid his fingers back to your clit.

“Yeah,” you answered with a whimper. 

“You like it?”

Your breath hitched as Joel’s fingers sped up. “Been through worse.”

“Worse? Here?” Joel asked, wondering what could happen at a brothel that was worse than a gang-bang.

“No just… you know…” you sighed with pleasure. “--in general.” 

Joel furrowed his brows. You were being honest with him. Too honest, in his opinion. But you were rolling your hips into his hand. And he didn’t want to make the same mistake twice.

He shoved two fingers inside of you without warning. Your body twitched and you moaned–and it was different this time. Quieter. Realer. Joel liked that. He didn’t mind taking his time to get you ready if he knew you would enjoy it. 

“You like fuckin, huh?”

“Who doesn’t?” You snickered, pushing back into his thrusting hand.

Joel took a deep breath, maintaining his composure. But he knew then that he wanted you. That you were just what he needed and more.

#######

You liked this Joel guy. He took his time. He was asking you questions, trying to get to know you. You don’t remember the last time anyone had done that. …Well, maybe when you first started working there. Trisha and Carrie and a couple of the other women tried, but this felt different for some reason. Like it was leading somewhere. Like there was a promise at the end of it. Like maybe he really wanted to make you come and he wasn’t just there for himself. 

And you liked his voice. It was smoky and deep. He had an accent like a cowboy. It was comforting, in a way.

And his fingers felt nice. He knew what he was doing. You couldn't remember the last time a guy got you that wet with just his hand.

Part of you felt a little hopeful. You thought you might finally get to have some fun like the other girls did. Most of the guys you got were ugly or just plain ol’ depressing. Another part of you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason. You’re not sure why she kept coming up in your mind. You two never worked together. You barely knew her at all.

-

“You ever fuck the other women here?” Joel asked. 

“Mm-hmm,” you hummed in proud affirmation. It even pulled a smile from you. 

“What's that mean?”

You weren’t sure how you expected him to react. You weren’t sure why you answered that way. “It means… yeah,” you replied while embarrassment burned your cheeks. You had barely looked at him before, but now you really didn’t want to see his face.

“Yeah, you like fuckin women?” His voice turned breathy. You heard his buckle jingle and the slide of the zipper of his jeans. 

 It turned you on to know that he liked that. Some men hated it. Made you feel like shit for it. But man, this Joel guy was something else. It made you want more of him. More of his fingers. His voice. His skin. “Yeah,” you moaned and shoved yourself harder into his hands, thrusting his fingers deeper.

“So what? You lick their pussies? Rub your little cunts together?”

Your mouth hung open from his words. “yeah,” you said with a hot breath. He pulled his fingers from inside of you and drew circles on your clit. You started whimpering. You nodded your head as fire burned in your core and across your skin. 

“That’s why you work here, huh? You got a needy little cunt?”

His fingers were moving so fast, the muscles in your legs were jumping and your toes were curling. “Uh-huh,” you moaned loud enough for your voice to echo around the bare room.

“That why you left the Q-Z? This slutty hole wasn’t get fucked enough?” His fingers slid back inside your entrance. You’re not sure how many he stuffed in, but it was more than before. 

You nodded with a desperate moan, your right leg slapping the mattress beneath you in frustration. You needed more. His fingers, his words–they weren’t enough. Your body was hot and sparking and you needed-needed-needed. “Joel, please,” you begged, turning to face him, finally opening your eyes again. He was stroking himself and the sight of his cock made you drool. 

“Whatchu need, sweetheart?” He asked and you could almost kill him for it.  

“Please, please fuck me, Joel. Please.”

“Need it that bad, huh?” He kicked off his boots and shoved his pants all the way down to the floor. 

You got out of the way as he crawled into the bed and sat up against the headboard. 

“Come and get this cock, you fuckin slut,” he growled. One hand held his length while the other pulled you by the arm. 

You were too hungry to notice how tightly he gripped you. You hovered over his lap as he lined himself up with your entrance. You stared at the curve of his lips on the way down, the mix of gray and brown hairs in his mustache. But there was white on his cheeks and chin. You briefly wondered how old he was. But you couldn’t bring yourself to get a good look at his face. Too busy melting from the pressure of his cock stretching your walls. Fuck, it felt good. You braced yourself on his firm, wide shoulders and brought your hips back up a few inches before sinking down on his length even further. You groaned and tucked your head into his neck.

#######

You started sucking on his neck and his hips began to thrust up into you.

“It ain’t enough that I’m stuffin your cunt?” he grunted. “You need me in your mouth, too?”

You moaned against his throat, sending goosebumps all over his skin. “Yeah,” you said through panting breaths, before latching back on, teeth and tongue digging into his muscle. 

Joel liked you. He really liked you. You were wet and riding him just right. You weren’t mechanical about it, neither–like Joel was just another job to you. There was a sadness to you, sure. It was probably why you didn’t get a lot of men. Men wanted to forget their troubles at the brothel. Have some fun. They wanted the world outside to disappear with their cock inside a woman.

But Joel had tried that. And it hadn’t worked out so good.

So this time, he looked for someone different. Someone who would understand. Someone who would get why he needed to fuck and when and how he needed to fuck, too. 

And you were telling him everything he needed to know. He was learning what you wanted and what you liked and what he could use to threaten you into compliance. 

He pulled you away from his neck, not sure how he felt about being covered in hickeys. “Here,” Joel prodded your lips with his middle and ring finger. “Suck on this, you greedy little slut.”

And you did, moaning desperately as you rolled your hips in his lap. You gagged as he slid his fingers back and forth on your tongue, saliva spilling from the edges of your lips and down your chin. Your eyes were closed and he knew there was nothing going on in your mind. He knew you were focused on nothing but how good he was making you feel.

You started bouncing on his cock and he slapped your ass with his free hand. He gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, forcing you to stop.

“Did I say you could do that?”

Your eyes popped open–meeting his directly. You tried to pull your head away to answer, but Joel shoved his fingers in even further.

He repeated himself. “You tryin to come right now? Did I say you could?”

You let out a pathetic whine and shook your head.

He slapped your ass again and this time he noticed your pussy clench around him. He heard a small moan grow and die in your throat. “You come when I fuckin say you can come,” he snarled with his teeth clenched. He smacked your asscheek again and thrust up into you. 

You whimpered and squeezed your eyes shut. 

“That turn you on?” He gripped your ass in his hand. “You like takin’ your medicine, bad girl?”

You tried to turn your head, but Joel still had his fingers in your mouth and he held you in place. You looked at him with the most pathetic, pleading look.

“I asked you a question,” Joel growled with wide eyes. His cock twitched inside of you. “You like takin’ your medicine? You like bein told what to do?”

You squeezed your eyes shut again and quietly nodded.

Joel liked that. He liked that a lot. He took his fingers from your mouth and gripped your cheeks. Your eyes popped open again. He licked his lips. “You be a good girl and make me come first, then we’ll see what you get, okay?”

You nodded.

“Now what do you say?”

Your brows furrowed. 

“When I tell you what to do, what do you say?”

Your face softened. You blinked slowly before answering. “Yes, sir.”

“That’s right.” Joel grunted and thrusted his hips. “Now, make me come, you little slut.” His fingers dug into your own hips to guide your rhythm to what he wanted. “Make me come and we’ll see what you get.”

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir,” you murmured again and again.

Your warm, wet cunt sucked him in and stroked him. He could hear it, too, how drippy and turned on you were. It wasn’t long before he tossed you off him with a grunt, throwing you onto your back on the bed. He only fisted his cock twice before shooting his spend on your spread open pussy, on the hair on your mound. He wiped his cum down and around on your clit. “Come on, girl. You can come now. Come on,” he chanted. He rubbed your clit back and forth with the flat of his four fingers. “Give that greedy little cunt what it needs. Come on.”

Your body curled in as you orgasmed and you moaned loudly into your arm. Joel didn’t see the need for you to be quiet, but it was too late to do anything about it now. He rubbed you with his thumb until your legs clasped shut and you squirmed away.

He wiped his hands on the sheets and got up from the bed. He pulled his jeans back on, but waited to buckle his belt. He sat back down and put his shoes on.

You were still lying where he left you. Curled up in the fetal position. It almost looked like you were falling asleep. He figured you might as well rest up now. The drive back home was a bumpy one.

He sighed when he stood up. He figured he should get the liquor bottles out of the truck sooner than later. He huffed. Larry was a real piece of shit for trading a woman for liquor. But Joel wanted you. And he was gonna have you.

#######

You were reeling. Sexually, you were satisfied, but every other emotion bursted and channeled itself through your muscles and across your skin. You felt so vulnerable. This man had seen you–seen you! Like you were a real person or something! Like you weren’t just a ghost or a character in a movie! Everything felt wrong and you couldn’t figure out why. And you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie for some reason.

You stayed as still as possible until you heard Joel’s booted footsteps leave the room. You were grateful he didn’t say anything or try to touch you again. Your body trembled as you got out of the bed. You walked on shaky legs to the bathrooms to clean yourself. The world around you was so close and too clear. You could hear and differentiate everyone’s voices in the main room. The air was humid and you could taste it–actually taste it like it was a wet, moldy cloud in your mouth. 

Your hands tremored. You tried to exert control over them, but you were barely able to turn on the sink. You mostly swatted at the faucets until water came out. And there was no comfort to be had in the warm, rushing water. You noticed tension in your cheeks and thought you wanted to cry, but couldn’t make any tears come out.

The woman in the mirror scared you. It was you. You knew it was you. But she felt unfamiliar. Three dimensional. You wanted to run. Run away to the Quarantine Zone or—or anywhere but here.

Then you heard screaming, shrill screams from what had to be one of the other women. Suddenly you were being dragged out of the bathroom. Trisha’s hands were on you. Her fingers were small and thin and her skin was smooth and cold. You had never noticed before.

The lights in the main room were so bright that you could see everything. Every small piece of leather that had flaked off each of the couches and landed on the dirty, carpeted floor. The carpet itself was covered in dust and dirt and leaves. Where did the leaves come from? you wondered. How did they get tracked inside? Weren’t people wiping their shoes like they were supposed to?

There were people moving around. Naked. Half-naked. Clothed. All talking over each other. And blood. Bright red blood. One of the women, with long gold hair, was covered in it, shrieking in pain with both her hands on her hip. Two others guided her past you towards the back. One of Joel’s men was apologizing to Larry. He had black curly hair and a thick mustache. Larry was screaming in his face.

You saw Joel from the back as he pushed himself up from the couch. His shoulder rose and fell with deep, heaving breaths. There was blood dripping from his fist and there was someone beneath him. Once he stepped away, you saw an oblong fleshy ball of bright red where a face should have been. The body beneath the ball didn’t move. 

You folded in half and started heaving. Trisha shrieked in your ear. 

“I’m so sick of you assholes coming here and-and-and-and–” Larry was caught in a loop as he pulled his gun from his pocket. It was a small revolver. You watched his gray-skinned thumb pull back the hammer. “I’m sure! I’m sure!” he yelled over the shouting.

The man with the black curly hair lunged at Larry with a curse. 

The gun-shot stilled everyone in the room. It was loud enough that for a moment, you thought you had been shot. The vibrations pierced you to the very center of your being. But then… Larry was on the floor. Sprinkled with dust from the ceiling tile. And then there was more blood. Bright red blood spilling out from his body. 

You breathed in relief. Not only that you were still alive, but that it was Larry that was dead. For a few beautiful seconds, you felt free. Free from his bullshit and free from the brothel. Free to go back to the quarantine zone and start over again.

Trisha’s smooth fingers pulled one of your arms, but something warm and calloused pulled your other. You looked up, confused. It was Joel. Joel’s hand, which had been on you only minutes previous, felt so strange and unfamiliar. You had just shared a bed with him but–that had been a different man. Certainly different than the one that stood before you now with blood-splattered on his clothes and sweat beading around his temples. 

“You can’t take her!” Trisha cried, tears pouring out her eyes. “You can’t take her!”

“Sorry, darlin’,” he said. Joel’s eyes looked sad. “She’s mine now.”

Terror fell over you like a cold, biting wind. He was talking about you.

Your body started trembling again. You tried and failed to pull your arm away from his grip. “NO!” You shouted. Your vision went blurry as you sobbed. “Don’t take me! Please!” That was why you couldn’t stop thinking about Carrie. Joel had bought Carrie. Trisha had told you that Joel had bought Carrie. But the information hadn’t clicked into place. You had spent so long avoiding your body, avoiding feeling any emotion at all that when it spent all night trying to warn you, you couldn’t hear it. You couldn’t feel the siren in your gut telling you to stay away from Joel. And now that siren was loud and clear. But it was far too late for you to do anything about it. “Don’t take me! Pleasepleaseplease!”

Joel didn’t budge. He leaned in real close to you. “Now you told me you like bein told what to do.” Your face went fiery hot with shame. He yanked your arm, pulling you from Tasha’s grip. “And right now, I’m tellin you that you’re comin with me.” He continued to pull you out the front door, towards his truck.

“No! Nonono!” You cried. You tried one more time to shake him off, but it was pointless. He was too strong. You were too weak. And you started to wonder if you could have prevented this or if it was simply your fate. Your own boss hadn’t been able to say ‘no’ to these men. What could someone like you have done?

You sobbed into your hands as you sat in the truck. The man with the black curly hair got in the driver’s seat. Joel sat on the other side of you and rubbed your back in some sick attempt at comfort. “You be good for me–” he said, adjusting himself. “--then we’ll see what you get.” 

+++++

a/n: Please let me know if I missed a tag. Also, idk if it's really a DDDNE story or not. ??

story title taken from the song "Mary the Ice Cube" by Primus.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Would it be possible to read what happened during Phantom's mating season peak in The Bakery is a Front from Tim's POV? I just think the pure baffled energy that Tim would be radiating from being taken care of so nicely by his hot kidnapper from another dimension would be hilarious. Really the whole kidnapping had to have been a better experience than some of the galas Tim has been forced to attend; at least definitely the best kidnapping he has ever experienced, 10/10 would be kidnapped again.

It happens so fast.

One second he's suffering through Danny's overdose, and the next, the dead body in his arms is leaping over Bruce and trapping Damian in an iron-clad grip.

Jason and Dick react the fastest, but it does nothing to someone who can density shift. Tim can only watch Danny sobs on top of Damian, speaking in a strange dialect. It sounded like cracking ice every time he wailed.

"Unhand me!" Damian grunts snaping a knife into Danny's side. Despite the apparent red spot growing on Danny's shirt, the other man doesn't flatter in his movements in the slightest. He squeezes harder, but it doesn't seem like he's trying to hurt Damian. If anything, it looks like he's...cradling him? Yes, it did in fact, seem like Danny is attempting to cradle Damian like a baby.

What on earth-?

"Shit! Danny put him down!" A new voice shouts. Three women and a man burst into the room. Tim has yet to learn where they come from, but Bruce wastes no time throwing a pair of Batbolas at them. It hits the target on the man and the red hair women, tangling their legs and knocking them off.

The man yelps while the woman grunts, throwing her arms in front of her in an obviously trained reaction. She can't stop herself from falling all the way, but her reflex is nothing to scoff at.

She doesn't seem to care as she shouts at the drug dealer. "Daniel Fenton, you let that boy go right now! Are you listening to me?"

"Danny is not here right now."

Tim jerks his head in his fake boss' direction watching in horror as the man's usual blue starts glowing green, and his dark hair bleeds into white. There is an unnatural glow emanating from under his skin that makes him appear so beautiful Tim loses his train of thought for a moment.

This transformation seems a bit too much to just be a meta-gene activation. Is Danny....not human?

One of the women- who looks like a younger female version of Danny- blasts him with a zap of green from her hand. It reminds him of Starfire, but while his friend's blast is nothing but heat, the green of the girl seems more light than flame.

He drops, unconscious, letting go of Damian. The newcomers relax when the goth-looking one kneels next to him and presses her hands against his neck. Danny appears returns to the human one Tim is used to in another quick blink of an eye. "No pulse!"

"Thank goodness." The red hair, one says, sitting up. It's then that Tim realizes it's Jazz. The one that talked down Jason and the rest of Danny's men not even two weeks ago. So neither left of the siblings left overseas? How had they tricked Babs? "No pulse means he's still in his mating season. Quick we have to get him quarantined again before-"

"You are not going anywhere!" Jason growls, leveling his gun at her. Jazz blinks down the barrel, then raises a brow. It reminds Tim of Alfred when the man found his hidden coffee machine- disgusted, disappointed, but most of all, unimpressed.

His brother sneers. "I want to know what is happening here and I want to know now!"

"Can you not read?" Jazz returns, speaking as if an annoying customer demands a service she can not provide. "I put up signs that clearly said Quarantine do not enter around Danny's house. Why do you think that is? Oh, maybe, it means to leave this area alone."

"You bats are lucky we got here when we did," The man says, trying to twist out his binds. It's not going too well, as a few electric mobiles slip out of his pockets. "The only way to snap the human side of Danny out of his daze is by making him deny his obsession which is something I hate doing."

What?

"I hate hitting him too" The girl with the energy blasts pouts "I makes my stomach turn."

She twists at her waist seconds before Damian's foot swings through the air, where her head was only seconds before. She sidesteps his three other attacks, face twisting into a sneer. "Hey! Back off! We don't share the same obsession!"

"Silence wrench!" Damian sneers, which makes her even angrier.

"Make me, you wannabe pirate!" the girl hisses, and it's then that Tim realizes they may even be the same age. She is doing a masterful job of barely being out of Damian's deadly reach.

"Don't hurt him, Elle!" Jazz shouts, "Things are already complicated enough-"

The goth woman screams as she is suddenly launched into the air, slamming into Bruce and cutting off the redhead. Dick rushes to the now-standing Danny, aiming a barrage of attackers that the man easily slips through. Bruce throws the woman off him, slamming her against the wall and knocking her out in the same action. The man screams as Jason shoots out his kneecaps and Tim-

Tim suddenly finds himself unable to think as large green eyes overtake his vision. Danny's eyes and hair are bleeding in and out of different colors as the man stares at him. "Mate...."

Tim's mouth dries, and his eyes are drinking in the man. He knows he should be doing something, but Tim can't remember what he should be-.

"TIM!" Dick screams, snapping him out of his daze, and....oh, Tim is falling. Danny- or whatever is pretending to be Danny- has pushed him by pressing his hands against his chest and shoving him through a portal.

Danny is watching his drop with a soft smile, that is at odds with Jason appearing at his side with guns blazing.

Tim drops onto a pile of soft snow- or what he thinks is snow. It looks like it, soft like a fresh full pillow, but it's not cold. If anything, it's the perfect temperature to nap in.....he's exhausted. When was the last time Tim slept? He can't remember.

His eyes are getting heavy. His body is going boneless.....he has never been so comfortable in his whole life....is this what it feels like to rest on a cloud...

Tim blinks, around the room trying to fight the urge to give into the darkness, and he notes that he seems to be in a castle made entirely of ice and snow...like Danny's home.....he also appears to be in a tower? The windows are shaped like one.

Tim takes note of the sky being a bright green color which is..odd, but that's all he can think clearly as he finally goes under.

_________________________________________

It feels like he only closes his eyes for a second when Tim is startled awake by a scream of rage. Jerking away, he sits up, trying to gather his bearings. He needs to find out where he is and where his gear is.

Tim pulls on the crotcheted sweater he's been stuffed into, breathing a sigh of relief when he realizes his Red Robin outfit is still on underneath. He climbs out of the bed made entirely of snow, flickering his eyes about.

He's covered head to toe in other crotchety objects- pants, sweater, socks, gloves, a scarf, and a hat- all big enough to fit comfortably against him and his vigilante costume. Raising a hand to his face, he touches the smooth leather of his trusted mask.

Right. Danny let him keep his secret identity intake. That's... something.

He glances around his surroundings again, this time for sure, that his in some type of castle covered in ice. It's beautiful, like something out of a Disney movie with shiny crystal frozen designs everywhere. He carefully makes his way to the window, looking out into a far darker green of a sky.

He squints into the distance seeing acres and acres of a vast castle and land, but on the far right, there seems to be a drop....a cliff? Or the edge of this island. For you see, he could make out flouting doors and islands in the sky.

This differently wasn't his earth.

Danny, not being human, was becoming more and more plausible.

"Release me!" A voice echo. Damian.

Tim slams the door open, sprinting down the hall toward his younger brother's distress calls. It's a castle; even if everywhere he turns, it seems to be a frozen wonderland.

There are ice sculptures of Danny between every large ice pillar. They portray him as Tim usually is used to or as a being with a tail instead of legs mid-flight. There are portraits of various people hanging on the walls- he can make out Jazz and the others that busted into Danny's apartment- but there all encased in ice.

There are no guards, so when Tim sprints down a giant stairway, he is hyper-aware of his footsteps echoing on the cracking ice. He rounds the hallway, then stumbles to a stop at the sight before him.

It was Danny. At least, he thinks so. The being had a strong resemblance to him, but his skin had a slight blueish hue, his ears were pointed, his hair was pure white, he was glowing, and most of all, he didn't have legs.

The sculptures hadn't been a artistic choice Danny in this form had a tail and he was flying around a restrain Damian.

His brother was in a gaint baby doorway jumper, encased in what looked like a snow swaddle.

Damian is also covered head to toe in crochet clothing, but his Robin costume peaks from underneath it. Danny was flying around him, placing piles of snow on the ground around the struggling child, making noises like creaking ice and purring when he came close to pat Damian.

It also looked like Danny....was nesting with Damian in the center of it.

What in the world?

"I'll have your head!" Damian sneers as Danny gently places a bear beanie on his head. " I am not a child!"

"My baby" Danny coos, then starts making more cracking noise. He rubs his head against Damian like a cat which causes the boy to grimace.

Tim needs to get him out of there. He looks around for a weapon, but his gear doesn't seem near him. The only thing he can possibly use is the ice around the walls-

"Crackle, crack, Clank, Click!" Danny suddenly says in his face. He crossed the room at the same speed Bart would have, or maybe faster since he didn't even see a blur. Tim jerks back, but the glowing figure is already reaching out-.

He places a scarf around his neck with an adorable head tilt.

"Drake! Run! He'll swaddle you!"Damian screams, but Tim can't look away. He's so beautiful. Danny's bright green eyes, sparkling with the stars of the universe, and his lips are so full, he bets they would be perfect to kiss- is someone purring? Tim could fall asleep to that sound- it must be a white noise machine-!

He snaps his eyes open, shocked to find himself back in the original room.

Tim is back in the damn nest. Confused, he blinks around the room, noticing the sky is bright again and that he's tucked into the bed with great care. He's never felt more rest, so he knows he just spends hours sleeping.

He doesn't even remember getting moded, damn it.

""Red Robi- can you- where are you- report!" Tim's eyes widened when he realized Bruce's voice. It's his communicator! He scrambles out of the bed, straining his ears. "Re-Rob-in!""

There! His earpiece is in one of the ice crystals hanging from the ceiling. Miraculously it's still working, as he can barely make out Bruce's shouts. After four kicks of the crystal, he breaks it down, shattering it on the ground.

He quickly places it back into his ear. "Batman, I'm here!"

"Thank goodness!" An unknown woman says, making Tim flatter for only a moment. "Listen to me, my name is Sam, and right now, there is only one way to escape Danny's mating season without bloodshed. See, Phantom is in control right now, which means his obsession is at its highest. What does Danny not deem important enough to protect? Himself."

" We have to snap him out of it by having those under his protection stand up to him and....hit him. Anybody attacks will confuse Phantom so much the human side of Danny will be forced to take the front." Another female voice puts it. Jazz. She sounds unhappy, as she admits. "A punch to the head, or slap or something, just one from enough people under his protection will freeze Phantom for a moment."

Tim frowns. "I have no idea what you mean. How will that help get us away?"

"Well, we have a plan for that," A man says wearily. The one with all the electronics. "You may not like it...but we must get you to sacrifice yourself for Robin's freedom."

His siblings start shouting over the communicator but Jazz silence everyone with her explanation.

A very long explanation of ghosts, cores, and obsessions, but the gist is that Phantom and Danny's balance was disruptive, so the only way was to cause his human side to get clarification was by presenting Phantom with a paradox.

Phantom will protect all. Danny will allow anyone to hurt him because of his terrible self-esteem. Hence Phantom will not know if it should defend them when it's Danny in danger but it will pull at his core because something is still under attack in front of him.

However, as ghost king, Danny is crazy strong, so they need to attack with something Phantom would never try to defend himself from. His sister and two best friends suddenly slapping or punching him? Phantom would typically react by beating them away, but that would mean hurting the beings he exists to protect.

That's just the physical aspect of it too. Tim's sacrifice would pull at Danny's human emotions while Phantom would panic about needing to save Tim from the ghost he was sacrificed to. Which would be himself.

It should snap them both by tugging them in two different directions of their instincts.

Tim wonders if it will work-

He wakes up to Phantom purring and messaging his sore muscles. To his left is a feast of all of Tim's favorites. Even though he is the elite of Gotham, he's never been so pampered in his life.

Dang, it better work. Tim is getting far too comfortable in this castle. He may never want to leave.

"Phantom if you let my brother go ill be your mate."

"!" Phantom pauses then let's out a sound that sounds like twinkling bells glowing so bright he could be a star

"Only If you accept me as a sacrifice in exchange for my brother's freedom" Tim holds his break then jumps at the sound of shattering glass that comes from Phantom's mouth.

He blinks a few moments, fighting himself, until Phantom nods determined. "Mate will bring children. I need children."

"Ugh sure pal. Do we have a deal?"

"Deal"

It's a weird Tuesday.

Damian is home ten minutes later, and within the hour, Phantom overloads from the paradox.

Tim opens a portal home that night, and Danny sleeps through the rest of his mating season, going under when Phantom and he fights about Tim's fate.

[spaceshipellie]

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

prologue (masterlist for other parts) *✧･ﾟ: wc: 1.7k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: set in tlou universe. reader is 16 in the prologue but is 19+ for the rest of the story, weapons, gunshots, death, violence, no mention of ellie yet but all in due course cuties, is this going to be a slow burn? maybe… 18+ mdni

author’s note: this fic was originally inspired by the song everything by muna. i’m so excited for this, if you want to be added to the tag list lmk! i have no idea how many parts this will be but i expect it’ll be quite long. thanks for reading loves &lt;3

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

˚ · • . ° .

You didn’t know it yet, but your time in the Pittsburgh QZ was wearing thin. You had lived there your entire life, sixteen years to be exact. For people who lived pre-outbreak, a military-controlled quarantine zone probably didn’t seem like much of a home, but it was all you knew. Your dad was a smuggler and whilst for the past few years had managed to keep you and your mom out of it, his current job was proving to be riskier than originally anticipated.

“You said it would be quick,” you heard his seething whisper whilst you backed yourself against the other side of the wall, listening in.

“It was supposed to be! look, man, I’m sorry,” another man’s voice said.

“Just–fuck, just make sure we get the stuff we need before we hand anything over, alright?”

“We’ll try.”

“No,” you could hear shoving, “you will, understand?”

“Yes,” you could tell the man was nervous despite trying to hide it.

“If this goes wrong, they’ll come after us, and my family. I know this is a fucked up situation and I should never have got involved with that fucking Aaron guy in the first place but here we are and I am not letting my wife and daughter die because of me, got it?”

Die? Your blood ran cold wondering what on earth your dad had gotten involved with this time. You heard the man mumble out a “yes” before the door shut and your dad sighed and banged his fist against the table. Not wanting to get caught, you creeped back to your room.

Once inside, you settled into the beat-up armchair that you had pushed against the window and stared out at the night sky. Stars twinkled and the moon shone a bright white. For a moment, you could pretend you were somewhere else. Somewhere where everything looked this beautiful. It was a stark contrast to the withered frame of dust and peeling paint.

You could hear muffled voices coming from your parent’s room. They sounded like they were arguing and said something about talking to this Aaron guy on the radio. They did that a lot these days. argue. You knew they still loved each other but after silently analysing their relationship over the years, you could see that something of a ‘spark’ had gone. Then again, what did you know, it’s not like you had ever been in love. The closest you had ever gotten to a connection with anyone had been with Amy. When her hair would get caught in her mouth as you both stood on a roof laughing at how the wind parachuted your coats, you wanted to reach out and untangle it for her. Sometimes she would give you this look where her eyes would soften and her dimples would make themselves known as she smiled. It would make your heart skip a beat and you would forget what you were supposed to be doing. You guessed that’s just how best friend’s felt about each other. Completely lost in a trance, you didn’t notice the sound of thundering footsteps down the hall until a rough hand grabbed your arm.

“What?”

“We’re leaving,” your dad’s voice was indignant and stern.

“Leaving? where?”

Your mom burst through the door, her face soaked in fear.

“Charlie, please,” she pleaded, grabbing his arm.

“I’m sorry but we have to go.”

“Go where?” you demanded. You could feel the goosebumps raise on your arms. He couldn’t be talking about escaping, could he?

“We’re leaving the QZ. Come on, grab your stuff.” You just froze.

“Come on!” he yelled before running a hand over his face. He collected his anger just enough to look you in the eye and speak clearly.

“I don’t have time to explain, but some guys have fucked me over and it is safer for us to escape and leave.”

“But we’ll be killed!”

“We will be if we stay here. Now please, grab your stuff.”

His last three words came out with a bite and you thought better of arguing further. You looked across the room to your mum and she made a poor attempt at giving you a comforting look. Tears stung against your waterline and you quickly wiped them away with your sleeve before grabbing your things together. Not everything of course. Not the Thelma and Louise poster you found once or the sketch Amy had drawn of the two of you before she died. But the essentials. Torches, jackets, guns, knives.

Your dad looked out the window, making a mental note of military whereabouts, before encouraging you and your mum out the door. You didn’t want to leave. You had never been outside the QZ and had only heard horror stories. Thoughts of where you would go once you got out, if you got out, clouded your mind. It scared you to think of what kind of trouble your dad had gotten himself into that needed such drastic action. You knew he did bad things but you knew he wasn’t the only one and there wasn’t much you could do about it. When he first started smuggling you had been afraid all the time, but over the years you became numb to it. That’s just what he did. But now all of those fears were resurfacing and you weren’t ready to face the high chance that you could die tonight.

The three of you were pressed against the outside wall, your dad in front holding his finger to his lips indicating you needed to be quiet. Your parent’s both held guns whilst you clutched your switchblade. It was dark but blinding lights from patrolling tanks occasionally illuminated the dank alleyways.

“We need to get over there, we move on my signal,” you could barely hear your dad’s whisper as he pointed at a metal fence on the other side of the road. You tried your best to be silent but couldn’t help the way your breath shook as you nodded.

After peering around the corner once more, he lifted his hand up, signalling for you to follow him. You had to be agile in order to make it across safely, which luckily was a strength of yours. You may not have ever been outside of the QZ but you had snuck around with Amy enough times to know how to go unnoticed. This was nothing like that though. Sneaking around and being teenagers didn’t feel like a death sentence.

You bumped into your mom’s back as you all suddenly stopped behind a parked truck. It started to rain and you were thankful that the splatters of water might cover up any sounds of laboured breaths and footsteps from you. A bright light casted over the truck as you strained to keep your head below the window. You were moving again and the fence was in sight. The closer you got the more you could make out a chained padlock on a gate. A menacing sign saying “UNAUTHORISED EXITS FROM A QUARANTINE ZONE ARE PUNISHABLE BY DEATH” was hung up next to your heads. Your palms began to sweat as your dad pulled a key from his pocket. You didn’t even want to know what he must have done to get that. He started to unlock and unwind the chains from the gate. You were so close. Maybe this insane plan would actually work.

“Drop your weapons.”

You all froze and slowly turned, initially to squint as a torch shone directly in your eyes. After a few blinks, your vision cleared to see a guard holding up a gun. You felt like you were choking and if anything the grip on your knife tightened instinctively.

“I said drop your weapons.”

You threw your switchblade to the ground. Your parent’s followed suit with their guns. The guard took a step closer.

“Let me exp–,” your dad attempted to reason but was cut off.

“On your knees and put your hands on your head.”

You glanced at your mom and she hesitantly nodded. You sunk to your knees, the cold, wet gravel soaking through your jeans to your skin. Your hands trembled as you placed them on your head. The guard, still aiming his gun at you, checked you all with the infection scanner before stepping back to his original spot.

“Sir, I’ve got three clean but armed people here by gate three. How would you like me to proceed?” he spoke into his handheld transceiver.

“Uh-huh… yes… yes sir.”

Before you could even think, two deafening gunshots went off in quick succession. Your head snapped round and you saw your dad pointing a gun at the guard, as well as a mass of blood soaking his shirt. You noticed the guard stumble and in a blind rush of adrenaline you snatched your switchblade from the floor. Your mom’s hand grabbed you, pulling you back from where the guard was aiming his gun again.

Another bullet fired. Your mom screamed. You grabbed her arm to support her and looked up at your dad for help.

“Go!” he yelled, firing again. You could hear more guards charging towards you.

“Dad,” your voice came out weak and strangled.

“I said go!” you had never heard his voice be this frightening. Fear carried your legs as you pushed your mom through the open gate. You shoved yourself through it as well, not knowing what lay ahead in the darkness before you. You could only focus on getting away from the constant gunshots. You didn’t stop moving but your movements had slowed as you looked back.

“Dad, please!” you yelled, tears making your cheeks hot.

He was being pushed against the fence by three, maybe four faceless guards. You could hear the struggle in his distant grunts as he fought against them. They were beating and shooting until his body went limp on the ground, next to the guard he shot.

“No,” your voice was a mere whisper to yourself. Shock and disbelief ringing in your ears.

“We have to go,” your mom pulled you away, she was crying too, “before they catch up to us.”

You both frantically ran whilst the adrenaline was still controlling you. Your mom groaned with each step. You didn’t even know where she had been hit but at least she was alive. You had got out and there didn’t seem to be anyone chasing you, but your dad was dead. Escaping seemed so futile now. It had been his idea. his plan. His doing that meant you needed to leave in the first place and yet it had ended like this. And now, to no avail, you had no protection. Nothing except what you carried on your back. You were out in the big wide world. A big, wide, terrifying world.

*✧･ﾟ: taglist: @bellasfavelesbo @ximtiredx @abbyily @heartzjules @gold-dustwomxn @sawaagyapong @aouiaa @pinkigirl @nil-eena @ucannotcompare @cherriesxinthespring @blvebanisters

[spdrvyn]

nauseously nurtured: MIGUEL O'HARA

after getting discharged from work, miguel tries to give you as much as attention as possible while he's away. only to grow concerned, when you don't pick up his call on the last day of your break.

hurt/comfort. omg?! another post?! that's crazy, anyway time to disappear for a month! (just kidding, i have another fic to post on v-day)

Love is in the air? Wrong, gas leak! 

That was the clever message you sent to Miguel while he bombarded you with calls immediately afterwards to check if you were okay. It was as you described, there was a gas leak at work so you had the next three days off as they sorted the issue. 

He had insisted (if not, forced) you to quarantine in that duration for good reasoning, spoiling you with all of your favorite take out places while you two tried to keep in touch through call and messages. 

Concern had worn Miguel through when he got back home to you, he wasn't able to tear himself away. Checking your eyes, ears, mouth even for any signs of sickness and letting out the biggest huff of relief when you're completely spotless. You insisted that the only sickness in you was how sick you were for him, to that he wanted to roll his eyes at but he'll put up with your corny lines as long as it meant you were healthy and happy. 

Next morning, he dreaded having to go to work. Multiversal protection wasn't something he was feeling when you were home and all his for the taking, but you practically pushed him out of bed when he didn't let up on his grasp on you. Still, his attachment didn't evade you even when you were miles away from each other. 

You texted him the oddest things, Miguel found himself with a fond smile in the middle of a full cafeteria with multiple eyes on him because you sent him a stupid fucking 0.5 image of a stray cat. To which he had to glare other spiders down from sheer embarrassment, scarfing down his food to hide back into his office. 

The call time averaged on four hours, sometimes seven to eight if there wasn't any urgent business. Jess or Peter B. would join in too, but the latter was more intrusive if all else. 

On the third way, you don't call him. 

Nor do you pick up Miguel's calls, the worry came back to him like it always did. He texted you, over and over but you didn't even leave him on read either. 

Of course, he's unlucky enough to have more business that urgently needs tending to so he takes care of that first. Gruffly pushing buttons on his watch to call you again as the extraction team works behind him, he brightens up under the mask when you actually answer him this time. 

That little hologram he'd have of you doesn't appear this time, which means that your video was off. Again, strange. You always had your video on when talking to him, most of the time it wasn't even focused on you but whatever you were doing. Still, he wasn't going to waste the little time he had thinking about it. 

"Cariño," he felt the breath enter his lungs again. "You didn't pick up my call a while ago, que paso? Are you feeling sick from the leak?" That last question stuck to his suspicions as he heard the sound of sniffling and nose blowing on the other side of the call, the grip he had on his wrist tightening. 

"Migs, I need you." you sniffled, "Could you come home please?" You didn't need to say anymore than that. 

As the team begun to call for him, he cussed under his breath. Moving closer to his watch to wish you a goodbye before ending the call, sending you a quick text that he'd be home soon and he does. 

Two hours later. 

There were too many problems that needed taking care of. Injured spiders, broken equipment, not to mention that the signal towers were down for whatever reason so he couldn't find a way to contact you. It was maddening to maintain any sort of composure in those two hours, the thought of you all sick and needy at home was the only thing keeping him from simply losing it. 

He'd swung back to his home in a daze, nearly missing sight of the poles or buildings in his way that he'd almost bumped into them and probably would have caused him more time to get back to you. It was already dark when he slipped into the window, when he saw your shriveling form on the bed. 

You had a comforter draped over your entire body, a show blasting from your phone speaker. Multiple tissues were scattered on the sheets of the bed, littered on the floor too. An empty glass of water with a crumpled pack of chips on the bedside table, how pitiful it all looked. 

He approached the bed slowly, letting his presence be known by his weight being brought down on the mattress as it sunk slightly. The noises from your phone silence as he pulls the blanket up slightly, only to discover that you're not sick. 

Puffy eyes, messy hair, ruined makeup, outside clothes, and runny mascara were telltale signs of what had happened for you to be in such a state. His gaze had softened, but yours didn't. Your frown deepened as you yanked the comforter from his grasp and covered yourself with it again as another sob was ripped from you. 

"I– things were getting too crazy back at work," he begun to grovel. "Lo siento, por favor. I should've been there for you and I wasn't, please forgive me." 

He noticed the tremble as you growled in frustration, abandoning your hiding altogether as you seethed at him. "God damn it!" the ink from your mascara no longer had any sort of effect, clear tears streamed down your cheeks. "Why– why do you have to do this everytime? Ask for forgiveness, be so- so understanding and caring for- for other people—" 

His confusion is most imminent, but the fretfulness on his face overshadowed that as you curled against him, your hands fisting the nano-fabric of his suit. It glitches and bends around your manicured fingers, his own hands move to grip your waist and pull you closer to him in some form of a hug. 

"You know what they said about you?" your voice shook with unease, "They said that you're so perfect, too good for me, how it was even possible that I bagged someone like you." 

Disdain plagued each word that you spewed, Miguel wanted to be offended, he should have been offended. But deep down, he knows that all of his hatred was truly directed at yourself. "Who's 'they'?"

"My friends!" you pushed against him once more, but his hands remained steady on you. Moving up and down your sides in a gesture of soothing, you push a dainty finger against the hard muscle of his chest. "And they're right! I don't even know if it's all in good fun anymore because- because you—" 

No more is able to come out of your mouth aside from a pathetic croak, you shudder before your grip on his suit loosens and you become limp against his hold. "M'sorry," you whimper, "I'm being emotional again. Too much. You have too much of me." 

This hurt so much more than any wound he's sustained from battle, seeing you in this state was bad enough, but to know that he wasn't able to come to your beck and call the moment he'd heard about it probably stung even more. 

How could he be so careless? Why couldn't he go just a little faster at HQ? Maybe then, you wouldn't have turned out like this. A sad, shivering mess in his hold. His fingers curl around your cheeks, flushed and red. Either from crying or from being inebriated, it didn't matter.

"It's okay," he leans forward, your tears are salty as he kisses them away. Your breath hitches, eyelashes fluttering as his lips feel hot on your skin. "I think it's beautiful. You're beautiful." 

The moment freezes for a bit, Miguel's lips barely leave your face, neither does his hands as he calms you down. You think how someone could be so sweet, while barely even saying a word. He mumbles unintelligible phrases under his breath that you're too dazed to pick up on, but you can only hope he's whispering about how much he loves you.

And he really does, he loves you more than whatever "too much" meant. The rush of victory he feels after successfully completing a mission couldn't compare to the sheer happiness of getting home to you, safe and sound. Confiding in your presence, forgetting about everything and everybody else until the next morning. 

It gets harder and harder to move, to breathe, you go as limp as a ragdoll. Miguel still holds you, he moves his lips to your forehead in one long kiss. There's still some part of you that wants to be closer, closest, so weakly you pull at his bicep.

He shields you from all else for a while, the idle sounds of the city don't even make it to your ears except for the steady thump of Miguel's heart as your cheek is pressed against his chest. His hand tangles in your hair, brushing through knots while scratching at your scalp in the meanwhile. 

You don't think that you say anything to each other for the rest of the night, but that's okay. You're okay. You're beautiful. 

[precioustarkey]

journalism at its finest

summary: you have made a career for yourself by interviewing celebrities, but are feeling a little uncomfortable when one hits close to home.

warnings: none

i nervously climbed into my car. the engine only makes my nerves rattle more. growing up, i was infatuated with actors and musicians. i found myself watching movies for the actors instead of the plot. listening to songs for the singers instead of the message. i can't explain my relationship with the media. i guess being online a lot as a teenager is to blame.

regardless, i knew from an early age that i wanted to work in the industry. not as an entertainer, but in the background. i wanted to observe the lifestyle up close. going to college for journalism was the best decision i have made for myself because now i get to live out my fantasy. 

i get paid to interview these people. and though i find a lot of them uptight and spoiled, the nosy side of me loves picking them apart. because of my job, i try my best to stay neutral on these celebrities so that they don't feel uncomfortable. apart from the research i do in order to come up with my questions, of course.

today is different. there is a show called "outer banks" that came around during quarantine, so with my free time, i binge-watched the entire first season. as i mentioned, normally i watch tv shows and movies for the actors, but i hadn't seen anyone in this show. 

however, when i delved deeper into google, i found the name of one of the actors to be familiar. drew starkey. i quickly found out that he grew up in north carolina, as did i. confused, i pulled myself from my cocoon on my couch to find my old high school yearbooks. grabbing one at random, i see him grinning in his senior photo. how could i forget? 

ever since i discovered this, i avoided the show like the plague. even though i had been surrounded by celebrities for years now, i had never known one of them personally. it almost ruined the glamorous aura surrounding them. imagining him as a regular teenage boy in the classes we shared was humbling. he wasn't mean in high school, not at all. if anything, i remember finding it odd that he hung around the theater kids because he was a total jock.

because of quarantine, i knew that press would be difficult for the actors, and because of this, i never anticipated having to interview them. which helped ease my nerves. moving to los angeles meant that i would interview every celebrity on the new up-and-coming shows. part of me hoped the hype surrounding the show would die down before the lockdown did.

the entire ride to the studio, i told myself over and over again that there was no way he would remember me. he was a jock, and i barely spoke. it wasn't the fact that i was shy, high school just wasn't for me. i counted down the days to graduation. i was only there because i had to be. i put more focus on my studies than my social life. 

in the back of my mind, i can't help but fear that seeing him will bring back memories of being the closed-off kid i was back then. as long as no one mentions it, everything will be okay. i repeated that to myself a few times before parking my car in the lot. removing my seatbelt as slowly as possible to buy time.

my hands are shaking as i walk to my studio. i send passing smiles to my coworkers as i make my way to the bathroom. i confirm that my hair, face, and outfit look presentable, and read over my questions one last time. 

the cameraman walks up to me as i take my seat to wait for the cast to arrive. "i just got a call; austin and drew are going to be the only ones you're interviewing today. madelyn, rudy, and  madison will be interviewed tomorrow," he says, looking for any sort of confirmation. "that sounds perfect," i say, smiling, still looking at my cards. 

i hear footsteps coming from the hallway and quickly stand up. austin and drew emerged into the room with their crew. "hello! so nice to meet you, my name is y/n," i say with a grin as i hold out my hand to them. they do the same, introducing themselves as they take turns shaking my hand. 

all three seats are now filled, so we can begin the questions. the first fifteen minutes go perfectly; we're laughing, they're thoroughly interested in the questions, and they're giving great answers. turning my attention to drew, i ask, "has this sudden change in lifestyle been difficult for you at all? to go from putting your all into basketball, to then deciding on theater in college?" 

he looks taken aback by my question. that nervous feeling in my stomach is slowly creeping back. i made sure that his sports background was easy to find online, so i was confident he wouldn't be too surprised. "wait a second. y/n? y/n y/l/n?" i can feel my cheeks flush at his realization. 

"can i be honest? i was hoping you wouldn't notice," i said, covering my face with my note cards. we are now sharing smiles. "oh my god. i sat behind you in algebra, you're the only reason i passed that class," he says in between laughs. seeing him in person has brought all of those little memories flooding back. 

after a minute or so of catching up, their team urges us on. "we've got other interviews, guys," the man says impatiently. we carry on for an additional fifteen minutes or so before i have run out of questions to ask. we said our farewells, and i thanked them for coming.

just as they were leaving, drew turned around, brushing past the guys they had walked in with. "y/n can i get your number? i would love to catch up properly whenever we both have time," he says, pulling out his phone. "yes, of course!" i smile, quickly typing in the numbers before they are once again rushed away. 

it felt like no time before my phone started dinging.

part two is here!

[miniwheat77]

Taste. Pt 2. (Ghost x Reader.)

!mentions of sex, fluff, cute cute cute!

You always imagined that this would happen.

You’d meet the love of your life. Get married, have children together. You imagined you’d be sitting in a nice bathroom in a nice house, that you’ve worked your ass off for. Staring down at that precious little pink plus sign.

That all comes crashing down the moment you read it.

Instead, it’s nothing like that. You’re in a cold, dirty bathroom. The floor is freezing on your socked feet and tears gather in your eyes as you look down at the test that doesn’t deceive you. You’re not married. Hell, you’re not even in a relationship. You haven’t even talked to Ghost since everything happened. You won’t have a fancy house, or a man that loves you. Right now, you have nothing.

You’re all alone in a freezing bathroom on a snowy base in the middle of nowhere.

You stand up, wiping the test off and capping it, shoving it into your pocket for now. You’d have to hide it. How the fuck are you going to tell him?

Hey, I know you’re a battle hardened soldier who has walls up like Alcatraz, but congrats you’re a dad!

A pained sigh leaves your lips. You had no clue what to do. You wash your hands before hurrying out of the bathroom into your room. You and Ghost spent a few weeks after everything happened in quarantine. Laswell and some scientists got inside of the building you and Ghost had been infected in. Learned everything there is to know about the chemicals that intoxicated the both of you enough to cause this to happen. You were so stupid, why didn’t you just walk away?

Because your Lieutenant would’ve died, idiot.

You wipe your face frustratedly.

He’s been avoiding you. Like the plague. Ever since you came back he’d been ducking you. It’s time for that to be returned.

You knew. For now. This needed to be kept a secret.

———

For almost a week, he’s been trying to talk to you. He’s come to terms with everything that happened and he wants to apologize for avoiding you so hard. But now, the roles have reversed. Not only are you avoiding him, but you’re ignoring him too.

It’s been going on for a while, and there’s nothing that pisses Simon off more than someone who walks away from him, after blatantly ignoring him.

He catches you stacking chairs in the mess hall, and decides now is the best time.

“Hey.” He says sternly. Cleaning up the mess hall, moving tables and chairs around. It was your chore. You say nothing. “Y/N. Why are you ignoring me?” He asks. Again, nothing. “Goddamnit. I am your superior, you answer to me.” His voice booms in the mess hall.

You sigh. Turning to him. Unphased.

“I’m trying to apologize for avoiding you. Please listen to me.”

You take in a deep breath. “I just needed time to think. To… fully understand what happened. Okay? I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t know what it is. But he can’t look at you the same after everything that happened, not even in a sexual way. He’s got a major soft spot for you. “Y/N. Why are you ignoring me?” He sighs. His voice is shaky. You clench your teeth together, the tough act you’re putting up falters. “Because. While you were out in Ghosts little world avoiding me, I was dealing with this.” You unzip the small pocket on your vest. Tugging the little white stick out. You toss it to him and he merely catches it. It takes him a second to realize what it is.

He’s quiet.

He doesn’t know what to say.

He’s frozen, eyes boring into you. It feels worse, you start to feel small beneath his gaze. Crossing your arms over yourself to appear smaller.

He takes a deep breath. “S’alright.” He breathes. Seeing the way your eyes snap to him from the floor where you were looking before. “What?”

“We should talk about this. I mean.. what are your decisions. What..” he pauses, rubbing his eye. “Do you plan to keep it?” He asks. You look down, still feeling small. “I-I don’t know.”

“I know how much this job means to you. I don’t want to go and ruin your life with this- I shouldn’t have done it.” You sigh, turning your head away from him. “Right now, you’re my responsibility. And yes this is.. maybe not the best time for this to happen. Definitely not under these circumstances but it’s happening and there’s nothing we can do to change it. I’ll back you in any decision you decide to make.” You nod your head.

———

Ghost didn’t think he was capable of loving.

Not after all of the loss he’s gone through anyways.

But there’s something about you that makes his blood pump through his veins at a rapid rate. Heart racing so much that it feels like it’s going to burst right out of his chest. In his head when he looks at you he hears that familiar ‘woosh’ of blood pumping in his ears, his cheeks heating up.

Ghost knows the way he feels about you is unhealthy but there’s nothing he can do to stop it. He used to be able to control it, but there’s nothing in him that wants this to stop. Not fear. Not anything. The idea that you’re carrying part of him inside of you, something so precious. He can’t shake it.

As the weeks go by, you’re keeping it a secret. But Ghost notices. Your bump growing and growing. It’s not so big now but he knows how big he was as a baby, he’s sure this baby will be no different. You’re not together, but he’s watching you like a hawk around every corner. He makes sure you have everything you need, and tucks you in every single night at bedtime. With a bottle of water by your bedside just in case you wake up. When other men talk to you, it lights a fire inside of Ghost. He knows if something goes bad he won’t control it. He won’t be able to stop himself. You and the baby you’ve made together has created a monster out of him.

Ghost closes your door quietly. He does this every night. He has done this for the past few weeks without getting caught.

He takes a couple steps forward before a voice stops him in his tracks. “That’s three days in a row, something going on Lieutenant?” Captain Price is standing in the dark, arms crossed. Ghost grits his teeth, turning around slowly. “I- was just making sure she’s okay.” He says. He hears a little scoff, the start of a laugh from your Captain.

“I know what happened out there Simon.” He breathes. He takes a step toward Simon. “Do you?” He’s skeptical. “Course. I’m your captain, I know everything. Just like I know she’s pregnant.” He nods. Simon can feel chills rising on his skin. “How?” Ghost asks. “Why don’t you come into my office yeah? Let’s talk.” He pats Simon on his back. Walking down the dark hallway.

When they reach the door, Price opens it up, motioning Simon inside. “Take a seat.” He nods.

Simon sits down in the chair in front of his desk and Price leans up against it. “How did you find out?”

“Medic slipped up.” He laughs. “Look. I’m not mad at either of you. But I wish you would’ve told me so that I could’ve kept her safe.”

“You think I’m not capable?” Ghost looks up. Hearing his captain laugh. “You’re joking right?” He rolls his eyes. “There’s nobody on this base that could get through you to hurt her. That’s not negotiable either. We can tell how you feel about her. But she’s going to have to go on maternity leave, she can’t be active duty pregnant.” He shakes his head. “Huge risk.” He sighs.

Ghost nods. “That’s why she didn’t want to tell anyone.”

“I know. She’s a hard worker. Always trying to prove herself. But it’s not about her anymore. It’s about the baby she’s carrying. And whether or not she likes it, that’s your baby too Simon. You have a say in keeping them safe. She has to understand that. I’m willing to send you home with her, if you want.” He taps his fingers on his desk.

Ghost nods. “I’ll talk to her about it.”

“Whatever happens, this task force has your back. Both of you.” He nods.

“Now get some sleep mate.”

—

Ghost sits at the edge of your bed. You’re still asleep. He turned your alarm off.

It’s already almost noon and you’ll be pissed when you wake up. But he doesn’t care. You need the rest.

Simon is conflicted. And scared. What if he can’t protect you? What if he can’t protect your baby? What if something happens?

“Simon?” He hears your voice. He turns to look at you. “What’s going on?” You sit up.

“Nothing. Just relax darling.” He rests his hand on your thigh. “Price knows about everything.” He nods. You sit up completely and the outfit you’re wearing tears his heart up. In the best way.

It’s a normal army green long sleeve but since you’ve got a bump, it’s a little tight on your tummy. And you’ve got on loose shorts. You look sleepy and comfortable. He stands up, kicking his shoes off. Pulling your blanket back. Sliding in next to you. “Simon-“

“Just relax.” He laughs. He pulls you into him and it takes you off guard, this is the first time Simon has touched you since everything happened. Outside of small things. “How did he find out?” He asks. “A medic slipped up and told him. But it’s alright. He’s gonna send you home. And if it’s okay with you, I’m going to go with you.” He breathes, laying his head on your pillow next to yours. “Of course Simon. If that’s what you want.” You look up at him.

He closes his eyes tight and takes in a deep breath. “Simon, what’s going on?”

He sighs. Pulling you into him closer, resting his hand over your hip. “I love you.”

It feels like your blood runs cold.

“I mean it. I am in love with you. And it’s not the stupid drug talking. You’re fucking perfect and the fact that you’ve got part of me growing inside of you, it makes me love you so much more.” He grits his teeth as he says it. Like it’s tearing up his insides.

It goes against everything he’s ever known. Tearing down all of those walls he put up to avoid being hurt again, he doesn’t want to feel that. He doesn’t want to lose anymore.

In a way, he’s screwed. He’s got so much more to lose than he’s ever had now. A baby. And you.

“I love you too Simon.” You look up at him.

Simon wants to cry. He wants to lock himself in a room, tear it apart and scream. But instead, he pulls you into him, holds you to his chest like you’ll wither away right beneath him. He calms immediately when you rest your hand on his chest.

“I have an appointment today. They’re gonna check the baby out. Make sure they’re okay.” You breathe. “Really?” He perks up.

“Can I come?” He asks. “I was just about to ask.” You smile. “What time?” He asks. “About an hour.” You look at the clock. He nods. Your stomach growling makes him laugh. “Maybe we should get you something to eat in the meantime.”

The two of you head into the mess hall, and before you know it you’re sitting near Simon at a table. “Hey. Price told us you’re not going on any missions anytime soon. He’s getting some fill ins. What’s going on?” Gaz and Soap sit down at the table, setting their plates of food down.

You and Ghost glance at each other. “Uh…”

After a moment of silence, you set your sandwich down, wiping your hands off. “Because I’m pregnant and Simon is the dad.” You blurt it out. Soap nearly spits his water out, choking on it. Gaz gulps down a bite of his own sandwich, holding his chest as it goes down hard. “Steamin’ Jesus! A warning!” Soap clears his throat. “You’re serious?” Gaz asks. You nod your head. “We got exposed to some.. weird sex drug on that mission, that’s why we were in quarantine. Now uh.. yeah. Self explanatory.” You shrug. Taking another bite. “You know, nobody is gonna take it from ya.” Gaz jokes. Seeing how you’re devouring your sandwich. You smile. “Freaking baby is taking everything from me.” You groan. Pushing your now empty plate aside.

“Here.” Soap slides his plate over to you. “Gonna need it.” He laughs. “Oh, do you know what the gender is?” Gaz asks. “Not sure. We’re meeting with a medic in about.. twenty minutes. Might find out.”

They look at you with pleading eyes, even Ghost can see what they’re waiting for.

“Would you guys like to com-“

“Yes!” They both say at the same time. You and Ghost laugh at their eagerness.

“Y/N? Are you ready for an ultrasound sweetheart?” The medic asks. You nod your head. When all three massive men stand up after you, following behind you. She looks confused. “Can they come?” You ask. “Uh.. sure.” She laughs. She leads you back into a room. Instructing you to lay on the table.

You jump slightly when she squirts the gel onto your stomach. “Sorry. I know it’s cold.” She laughs. Ghost is holding your hand, Gaz and Soap stand next to him with their arms crossed. All of you looking at the machine to see your baby.

“Should be able to hear a heartbeat… now.” She hovers over your baby and you can hear the little thumping.

She moves the little metal device around, getting a good look at your baby. “Got.. 10 little toes. 10 little fingers.” You glance at the men to your side, seeing them all smiling. It seemed as if they were more excited about this than you were. “Do you guys want to know the gender now?” She asks. “I can tell what it is.” She smiles. “Yeah, yeah we do.” You look at her. “It’s a boy.” She smiles. “Congratulations, you have a healthy baby boy.” Pulling the machine from your stomach, passing you a towel to wipe the remaining gel off of your stomach.

“Wow. Thats awesome Ghost, a boy dad.” Soap pats his shoulder.

“Yeah.. yeah it is awesome Johnny.” Ghost hides the fact that he’s got tears gathering in his eyes. “I’ll give you all a moment to get situated.”

As the medic leaves, she laughs to herself.

God help whoever messes with you or your baby. Because Ghost will lead the cavalry of dangerous military men. Task force 141 on the front lines of course.

[nemastraea]

Doormat extraordinaire: Andrew Graves is down horrendous for his own sister | Part 1

Or as I like to call it, actual literal word vomit attempting a proper character analysis!

Here's a link to the AO3 version for archive purposes: The doormat extraordinaire has a bit of a romantic streak,

Content warning: This will heavily feature spoilers from Episodes 1 & 2 of The Coffin of Andy and Leyley. Trigger warning: Abuse, cannibalism, child neglect, codependency, harassment, incest, murder, self-harm, and suicide. Disclaimer: I will occasionally reference an extremely normal essay from Sufficient Velocity commenter Leyleyfication (here). It would be a lot easier to read this essay first as Leyleyfication does a pretty good job establishing the following: - Ashley is dependent on Andrew to assure and validate her of her own insecurities, and - The game heavily implies that Andrew wants to fuck his own sister.

Anyway: The Coffin of Andy and Leyley! A game in early access where a pair of siblings are stuck through a seemingly never-ending quarantine together, desperate not to starve to death. When their cultist neighbor dies in a ritual gone wrong, they rationally resort to cannibalism. Fun!

I am definitely going to assume that you read Leyleyfication's extremely normal essay (I am on my knees, begging you to read that). Which is why this essay immediately starts with, "yeah, Andrew definitely wants to fuck his sister" as its baseline.

What I will be adding to that funny little cauldron of fucked up sibling dynamics in a horror visual novel are the following: Andrew's fixation and sexual attraction manifests as his desire to control, dominate, and possess Ashley. And it is framed as a fatalist attraction and the totality of his existence (for worse or even worse).

Because of Tumblr's limit for 30 images per post, though, I'm going to have to split this extremely normal and reasonably lengthy essay into... multiple posts! Yeah! I have no idea how long this will fucking go!

So first things first: how can we tell that Andrew is even attracted to Ashley in the first place?

Nemlei (Devlog 05). Note the hickeys above and below Ashley's choker and her left inner thigh, and Andrew's left hand creeping into her right thigh.

As Leyleyfication points out, the game primes us to believe that Andrew is a pushover and Ashley is his abuser. This occurs in the Steam page as it explicitly says Ashley is "in fact, very bad" and Andrew is a "doormat extraordinaire." Moreover, it's very easy to tell that Ashley is, on some degree, obsessed with Andrew:

She's happy to hear that Julia broke up with Andrew over the phone;

She repeatedly accuses him of finding the Lady from Room 302 attractive and he 'tried anything with her;' and

Her flashback to wanting to punish her friend Nina ("the Bitch in the Box") for crushing on Andrew.

Episode 1, dream and memory. Leyley previously said that Nina should know better than to 'steal from another woman,' referring to herself. The implication that Andy is hers is toyed with after this moment, when she says she'd put Andy back in the box.

The game does prime us to think that Ashley is Andrew's abuser. It also suggests that Ashley projects an unrequited and incestuous love onto Andrew. Before we consider Episode 2's narrative, Episode 1 gives the initial impression that if Andrew comes to reciprocate her feelings, it's more of a reaction and subsuming to her will. That it may not be something he wants for himself and independent of Ashley's manipulation.

But again, I do believe Andrew wants to fuck Ashley. And always has been. He just frequently vacillate between 'subtle' and 'really fucking obvious' tells that completely take advantage of the game's third person limited POV.

Keep in mind that both Andrew and Ashley are extremely unreliable narrators. We aren't going to get information they personally do not care about and that is on top of our own choices as the player.

(A digressive example: you will not learn that the founder and CEO of Toxisoda's company was a former surgeon unless you interact with the television in Andrew's Episode 2 dream and memory of their blood oath. Otherwise, it neatly ties into the surgeon that Mrs. Graves conveniently says she was directed to regarding the siblings' quarantine in the main story.)

When it's really fucking obvious

When you play as Andrew in Episode 2, his post-dinner argument with Ashley carefully frames them both. They are cramped in the foreground and Andrew's left arm is conveniently blocked by Ashley and the kitchen knife, as seen here.

Episode 2, common route. Prior to this, you can interact with Mrs. Graves for her to pointedly comment on the siblings being inseparable.

At this point in the game, their physical closeness is something we're used to by now. After all, we've already seen Ashley on his lap at least twice; Andrew slept in her bed in Episode 1; and Ashley confirmed they've shared the same motel bed multiple times in the one-week interim between Episodes 1 & 2.

But the game abruptly shifts to Mrs. Graves' POV when she enters the scene and not only do we see the two as physically close, but we notice a few more details.

Episode 2, common route. The first picture transitions from Andrew's POV to Mrs. Graves as it introduces us to her entering the scene.

The contrast of how spacious the kitchen is from Mrs. Graves' POV to Andrew's cramped POV is obvious. More importantly, Andrew's fingers loop through Ashley's belt loops when the two are huddled together. When Mrs. Graves clears her throat, the two don't really separate.

Ashley pivots on her left foot so that her body is turned to their mother, not Andrew, but she doesn't step away from him. Andrew, meanwhile, recoils from Ashley and withdraws his hand. But he isn't turning his body to face their mother like Ashley does here. His attention, at least in this moment, is still towards Ashley (and, yanno, the sink).

Episode 2, common route. Two things to consider in the second picture: Andrew hides Ashley's bite mark on his cheek with his left sleeve and he conveniently moves the pillow from behind him to his front.

The 'tell' isn't so much as the two are unusually physically close. Again, we're used to that by now. But it's how the two siblings react whenever Mrs. Graves comes into the picture. Ashley doesn't really give a fuck about whether or not people assume the worst of her or even her intentions regarding Andrew. To Ashley, their proximity is normal and anyone who sees that as a problem is not worth an explanation or reason.

But Andrew is at least subconsciously aware it's 'not normal.' As far as these moments are concerned, Andrew instinctively tries to do damage control by either putting space between them or keeping his hands occupied so they aren't visibly touching Ashley. Still, he either does not mind or actively appreciates his physical closeness with Ashley.

When it's really fucking obvious (but only in hindsight)

In Episode 1, Ashley passes out after trying to clean up after the apartment. Regardless of her passing out in the living room, the bathroom, or their parents' room, she will wake up on the couch with her head pillowed by Andrew's lap.

Episode 1, Ashley's POV. Andrew's hands often hover over Ashley's head, but more than that—

I personally didn't notice this until I replayed Episode 1, when I basically have the hindsight of Andrew's fixation with hair. But yes, his fingers idly twirl through the ends of Ashley's hair as they watch TV. It's implied that Andrew can and will do this when Ashley pillows his lap, awake or asleep. He does not recoil from it when Ashley does wake up and later on, in Episode 2, even continues to brush it from her face.

Episode 2, common route. Ashley fell asleep at the passenger seat, so Andrew had to have transferred her to the back seat to pillow her head again. Though, technically, she's more cramped at the back seat than if he'd just reclined the passenger seat.

So far, we've seen that Andrew has a natural tendency to not only be physically close to Ashley, but to hover over her personal space and be in constant and direct contact with her. Whether it's by having her head on his lap, twirling her hair through his fingers, or even constantly grabbing her by the head in various states of comfort, playfulness, or outright threat (but let's put a pin on that for now).

The weight behind this candid contact shifts when Episode 2 draws a pretty explicit parallel between Julia and Ashley. Assuming that you interacted with Julia's landline and heard Ashley's voicemails, you know (and Andrew knows) that Ashley draws that connection herself:

DO YOU THINK YOU'RE BETTER THAN ME!? Just because you can fuck him and I can't? You think that's love?! Are you fucking delusional?? Cumdumpsters like you are just that. He will never love you. Not like he loves me. I am the only one. I am everything. I am the secrets you'll never hear. When he lies in bed at night, and when he needs someone to hold on to... It's not you he seeks out. It is me.

Episode 2, common route. Andrew's dream and vision implies that Andrew's heard these voicemails before.

That connection extends to the hair contact as well, as Andrew goes in to hug Julia, cards his hand through her hair and requests she tie her hair up.

Episode 2, common route. Andrew's dream and memory of Julia when they're older. From the use of Andrew's present-age portrait, suggests is closer to the timeline of the game's events than his and Ashley's memories as Andy and Leyley.

From this moment, we can have one of two assumptions: either Andrew wants Julia's (black) hair put up like Ashley's, or Ashley caught onto Andrew's hair kink and puts her hair up to imitate it.

Regardless, we infer the following:

Andrew teases affection through touching and even pulling on one's hair.

His fixation on ponytails and pulling on them does not exclude his own sister. It still stands and without reservation, perhaps more explicitly since he can do it so candidly, as we saw before.

The last of that Julia-Ashley parallel is self-contained within Episode 2. But only if you end up in the Burial route regardless of Ashley's platonic or incestuous vision.

Episode 2, common route (first picture) and Burial route (second picture). It's worth pointing out that Andrew is actually disinterested and moody during his conversation with Julia, and only perks up when he mentions Ashley or feigns care for Julia (since he extends his care of Ashley to her as well).

The game ends up drawing parallels on how Andrew treats Ashley, for better or for worse, with his ex (which is definitely worse, poor Julia). In doing so, the game blurs the lines between romantic affection for Julia and 'platonic and familial' affection for Ashley.

Y'all, this isn't even getting into how Andrew respectfully gives his parents space and only crowds them when he threatens them with his cleaver. In his mind, Ashley and Julia are in that same space of physical and romantic displays of affection; something he reserves only for them (only without reservation for Ashley) that does not extend to anyone else. His ex-girlfriend, and his sister. Shit's wild.

When it's obvious BUT it's violent!

That isn't to say that his hair fixation (hair kink?) is completely innocuous, though, as it rears its ugly head (pun unintended) in Decay. Which is what that previous pin was for! Yay!

You end up in the Decay route if Ashley doesn't trust Andrew with keeping an eye on their parents. Here, Ashley sleeps on their parents' bed by herself and has an alarming vision: an unknown party chases after her through the in-between and when they catch up to her, it's Andrew. Ashley has nowhere to run and Andrew eventually grabs her and threatens to kill her.

Whether or not Ashley can defend herself depends on Andrew expending all of her gun's ammo when he deals with the hitman, or not. But that outcome divergence will matter much, much later (so that's another pin for us to come back to).

The sequence of events actually mirrors the way the siblings ambush the Lady from Room 302 back in Episode 1. There, Andrew closes in on her and grabs the Lady by her wrist and uses his front to pin and restrain her. With his cleaver to her throat, the Lady is completely at his mercy.

Episode 1 & 2, common route (first picture) and Decay route (second, third, and fourth pictures). Note that Andrew restrains the Lady from Room 302 by the wrist while with Ashley, by her hair.

Andrew asserts control of the person and the situation through violence. Whether it's by killing them (the wardens) or by threatening physical violence (the Lady from Room 302 and Ashley). It's always on the table for him. As Leyleyfication puts it, "He's so calculated in how he approaches his use of violence [here]."

That violence includes Ashley. It's always on the table where Ashley's concerned. The game even juxtaposes when Andrew threatens violence and physical assault 'playfully' versus when he's seriously out for blood:

When you interact with the wall of call girls' numbers and Ashley jokes about leaving her number on the wall, Andrew 'jokingly' threatens to backhand her for even thinking about it.

When you interact with their parents' latched window for a second time, Andrew 'teases' slapping Ashley if she doesn't find a way to open it. (Ashley jokingly asks if it's on her ass or at her face, and assumes it must be the face when Andrew says she'll have to find out.)

The two other times that Andrew exerts violence against Ashley are both in Episode 1 & 2. We can remember when that happens in Episode 1, when Andrew's had it with Ashley's fits and threatens to kill her:

Episode 1, common route. Y'all, Andrew was choking her hard enough for his grip to bruise.

It happens again in Decay when he confronts Ashley about repeatedly calling him Andy and therefore, breaking the promise he coerced her into from Episode 1.

Episode 2, Decay route. Another thing to keep in mind is that Andrew's outburst is preceded by Ashley prodding him about his current state and insisting that Andrew was fine with 'Andy' during their home invasion.

In Episode 1, Andrew resorts to harming Ashley because he's fucking had it with her accusing him repeatedly of trying anything with the Lady from 302 and, in her eyes, his 'infidelity.' Where she accuses Andrew of not loving her enough that if his eye catches another girl, he'd leave her behind or flip on her. In Episode 2, she's poking and prodding on his boundaries on 'Andy' and whether or not, once again, he's with her on their now-committed life of joint crime.

If I can give another example, it happens in Andrew's common route memory of Nina's death and his blood oath with Leyley.

Episode 2, common route. Prior to this, Andy expresses immense exasperation at Leyley's tantrums over him 'thinking about that bitch again.' When he goes to grab the kitchen knife, cleans it, and returns to Leyley on his bed—he's briefly considering killing her.

Andrew threatens Ashley violently whenever he intends to confront her on her perceived brattiness, for lack of a better word. And keep Leyleyfication's essay segment on Ashley's insecurities and need for Andrew's validation in mind here—when Ashley does this, she wants and even needs Andrew to comfort her. But her aggression treads Andrew's patience and really, his tolerance of her behavior.

When Ashley's anger, clinging behavior, insecurities, and possessiveness of Andrew slips his control and tolerance, he resorts to violence to coerce or even dominate her.

I think (or hope, if it's clear enough) it reinforces what Leyleyfication points out:

The truth of the matter is, Ashley can only make Andrew do anything because he lets her. I don't mean in the sense that I'm saying abuse victims let their abusers emotionally abuse them, I mean in the sense that he is clearly considering his options on the table and choosing to discard those that could stop her, or bring an end to any of this.

It also reflects on another aspect of why Andrew resorts to violence: in all three situations, Andrew remarks on Ashley's behavior and her sake. If she acts up again once they're out of the apartment, it'll cause trouble for him while they're evading authorities. If she's going to call him Andy from hereon out, what's the point of running away with her. If she expects him to leverage keeping 'her secret,' he won't because it's for her sake.

Andrew rationalizes his attempt to control of Ashley's behavior as being for her sake. But really, isn't it him confining her behavior to something he can tolerate and personally handle?

I'd also like to point out that Andrew admits that he noticed Ashley push for calling him 'Andy' during the home invasion, and he did not argue with her on it while they held their parents hostage and readied to sacrifice them. We can infer that when Andrew calculates his use of violence, that can also factor when, where, and how he exerts it.

--

Well, that's where I can reasonably end this half of my word vomit! Now, onwards, to part 2!

[five-rivers]

timer

@echoghost1 @everfascinated

.

It hovered over the surface of the portal, clearly separate from it.  A large, flat, disk shape, with a pale, luminous face.  More vivid numbers circled the edge, painted neatly.  A single, delicate, metal hand pointed towards the number seven, on the left side of the clock.  It had been pointing there for the past hour or so, ever since it had been noticed.  

Maddie drummed her fingers on the workbench she stood next to.  The timer - because what else could it be? - was, thus far, a mystery to her.  Usually, Maddie liked mysteries.  Exploring the mysteries of the Ghost Zone had been the reason they had built the portal in the first place.  This mystery was fascinating, and Maddie was excited about it, but it was also incredibly troubling.  

Obviously, the timer - hovering, green, immovable - was ghostly in origin.  What else could it be?  But how did a ghost place get in here to place it?  For what purpose?  How much time was left?  What was it counting down to?  It couldn’t be anything good.  Ghosts had no love for her family or their works.  

As soon as she’d noticed it, she and Jack had started taking readings, but nothing they did gave them anything conclusive, or any way to get rid of the thing.  

It was frustrating and troubling.  Frustrating and troubling.  

“Uh, Mom?  Dad?  It’s six and we were wondering if you wanted us to order dinner or anything…”

Maddie looked up to see Danny coming down the stairs.  

“Oh, sure!” said Jack.  “Pizza sounds great, son!”

“Yeah.  What are you even– What’s that?”  

Danny stared wide-eyed at the timer for a long moment, and Maddie moved to reassure him.  Danny was always so timid around ghosts, so afraid.  This timer was doubtlessly malevolent, but she and Jack wouldn’t let it do anything to Danny.  

Briefly, Danny’s eyes gleamed green.  Then, slowly, but inevitably, he collapsed.

Maddie leaped forward, keeping Danny from hitting his head on the bottom step by the narrowest of margins.  “Jack!”  

“What happened?” he asked, hurrying over.  “Danny?  Danny?  Talk to me, son!  Can you hear me?”

Danny’s eyes fluttered open briefly, overly reflective, then shut again.

“I’m setting up the quarantine booth,” said Maddie.  “Will you carry him?”

Jack nodded, grimly.  

They’d gotten the quarantine booth set up after Vlad’s unfortunate recurrence of ecto-acne and the revelation that ecto-acne could be contagious under certain circumstances.  It was sealed, filtered, protected, shielded.  Every precaution they could think of had gone into it. 

… and, yes, they should use those precautions more often, but Maddie and Jack loved getting up close and personal with the subjects of study.  

“We need to get that thing shielded,” said Jack as he set Danny on the bed.  He rushed out towards the timer and started setting up shield projectors around the portal.  

Maddie, meanwhile, pulled the medical scanner free from the ceiling.  Well, ‘medical scanner’ was a very sci-fi way of putting it, when really it was quite prosaic, if you knew how it worked.

She positioned it over Danny’s body and set it to taking data. 

Temperature, low, heart rate, low, bones, intact, nervous system… that part of the scanner didn’t work all that well, ignore that reading…  

Ectoplasm levels were off the charts.  

Maddie inhaled deeply.  Stay calm, stay calm.  They would fix this.  They’d cured Vlad and Danny’s friends, they could cure this, whatever it was.  They would get rid of that timer and they’d save Danny.  

“Mom?” said Danny, weakly.  

“Hey, sweetie,” said Maddie.  “How are you feeling?”  

“Bad,” said Danny.  He tried to sit up, but Maddie pushed him back down.  “What’s happening?”

“You collapsed suddenly,” said Maddie.  “We’re trying to figure out why.”

Danny raised one hand to his face.  Green light reflected off his hand.  Understanding flicked over his features.  

“Okay, but I think I’m feeling better, now,” he said.  He tried to sit up again.  

“We need to figure out what happened before you go running around,” said Maddie, pushing him down again.  She looked over at Jack, through the thick, transparent sides of the quarantine booth.  Jack was now trying to throw a towel over the timer and–

Wait a moment.  

“Stay down,” she told Danny.  “Let the scanner do its job.”  She walked out of the quarantine booth.  “Wait, Jack, wait.”

“But we have to keep it from affecting Danny.  We don’t know if its effect is visual or what.”

“I know, I know,” said Maddie.  “But look at it.  Look at the hand.”

The hand, which had been pointing at the number seven, was now pointing at the number six.  

Jack scowled at the timer and tried to throw the towel over it again.  The towel passed through it.  “Are we sure this is a timer, Mads?  Maybe the numbers are counting down charges or something like that.”

“I don’t know, it still looks more like a timer to me.”

“But why did it affect Danny like that?” 

“I don’t know.  We need to start decontamination procedures right away, though.  His ectoplasm levels are off the charts.  The sudden spike is probably what made him collapse, but I don’t know how this could have increased his ectoplasm levels so much so quickly.”

I don’t know either,” said Jack.  He picked up the latest version of the Fenton Finder (which incidentally, still detected Danny more often than not) and shook it.  “None of the detectors we have pointed at it picked up anything.  Nothing going towards Danny, nothing ambient, nothing anywhere else.”

Maddie had hoped that their detectors had picked something up, but with the continued failures of the Fenton Finder, maybe she shouldn’t be so surprised.  

“We’ll keep looking,” said Maddie.  She was forgetting something.  What was she forgetting?  “Jazz.  We need to tell Jazz, so she doesn’t come down here.  What if it only affects minors?”

“Righto,” said Jack, shoving the Finder at Maddie.  “I’ll do that, you start the decontam procedures!”

Maddie nodded tightly and turned back to Danny.  She could see his eyes gleaming from here.But they could fix this. 

[leohatter]

Hiya Leo! Can I request a angst/fluffy au for Jungkook x male reader with situation prompt 2. "He walks behind you when you're in online class" where after Jungkook walks past reader(they're in a secret relationship), readers classmates try to befriend him just so they can meet Jungkook. After class reader feels sad that they only want to be friends just because of Jungkook and Jungkook comforts reader and they cuddle in bed.? Have a good morning, day, night <33

online saddness | jjk

pairing: jungkook x male!reader

genre: fluff, angst

warnings: none

word count: 920

a/n: i'm so sorry this took so long but school has been beating my ass 😭 in the weekend i'm probably post something so 👀

you hated online classes. the interrupted sound and the pixelated images, having to wake up earlier than usual for some classes and all the connection problems. the only thing that was keeping you sane through all of this was your boyfriend - jungkook.

when covid hit, you both decided to quarantine yourself together at his house, wanting to spend all the free time together. you yawn for the nth time before looking at yourself in the corner of your boyfriends monitor. a figure walking behind you catches your eye and you quickly turn around to see your boyfriend looking shocked at you, a worried and regretful look on his face.

he quickly gazes at the monitor, making sure you were muted before his wide eyes look back into yours "shit. i'm so sorry my love, i didn't realise your camera was on" he whispers. your gaze softens at the sight of his worried face "it's okay koo, don't worry" you whisper back. you turn to your lecture again to see some of your classmates' eyes wide, shock evident on their faces "shit" you silently curse. you forgot that some of them were ARMYs.

you look at jungkook, who was in the kitchen, before looking back at your notes. as the teacher announces the homework, signalling the end of the class, you hear your phone buzz. "let's hang out in the meet after the teacher leaves" one of your classmates' texts in the class group chat. you notice some classmates sending in thumbs-ups, so you do too "i should socialise with other people rather than only koo and bam" you chuckle.

like he was reading your mind, the doberman walks over and plops down by your feet, his head resting on the fluffy blanket that laid in your lap - one that your boyfriend made sure you weren't missing, muttering something about the coldness in his house and you wearing shorts. you pet bam's head as you watch your teacher leave the meeting after bidding everyone goodbye.

turning back to jungkook, you watch him for a few as he makes lunch for the both of you "hey koo, i'm gonna stay with my classmates for a few more minutes, just tell me when lunch is ready, okay? " you smile when he nods, his cute pout making you giggle.

you put your headphones back on and turn on your mic, saying a quick greeting before one of the girls in your class interrupts you, a fake smile on her face "hey y/n! how are you? "she asks, but before you can answer she interrupted you again "why did you never tell us that you knew jungkookie oppa? is he as hot as everyone says?" she giggles and some of the others join her "you know, when all this online thing finishes we should all go out sometime, you should bring him too." someone else exclaims before the rest of your classmates join in to agree.

you feel tears well up in your eyes. how come they never even really talked to you until now? before anyone can say anything else you exit the call, trying to stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. you close the computer and hurry to the bedroom, trying to suppress a cry. closing the door, you sit down on the bed and finally let the tears fall.

you couldn't understand why you were feeling like this. shouldn't you be happy that they want to hang out with you? shouldn't you be happy that jungkook gets recognised? your thoughts get interrupted by a knock on the door and jungkook pocking his head with a frown evident on his face. "baby? what happened ?" he rushes to you when he sees the tears on your face.

kneeling down in front of you, he cradles your face in his hands and wipes the tears off your red cheeks. you shake your head, embarrassed to tell him you're crying over something so stupid. seeing the frown on his face you sigh, looking down at your lap "some of my classmates who never even talked to me before suddenly wanted to hang out after they saw you.

i don't know, it just made me feel bad. i'm sorry, i know it's childish-" he cuts you off before you could even finish, lifting your head so you could look him in the eyes again "first of all, it's not childish, and second, don't you dare apologise. it's not your fault. just ignore them okay?" he whispers as he gets up and pulls you in bed with him, throwing your favourite fluffy blanket on your bodies.

his warm hands wipe the new tears from your face before he presses a sweet kiss on the tip of your nose. "they don't deserve your tears" he smiles, wrapping his arms around you to protect you from the chilly air in his house. he pulls the blanket further on your shoulder and starts tracing thoughtless patterns on your waist.

his free hand pushes your head further into the crook of his neck before playing with your hair. your bodies were like puzzle pieces, fitted perfectly together under the fluffy blanket.

he presses short and sweet kisses all over your face, before pressing a final one on your lips "i love you" he whispers. you smile softly and nuzzle further in his chest "i love you too bunny" you mutter before the both of you fall into a slumber, lunch long forgotten on the kitchen counter.

[paintyoureyeswithavividmind]

close to home | chapter fifteen

close to home | chapter fifteen

plot: when the reader falls ill, Daryl leaves to get medicine. Meanwhile, things worsen at the prison, and Daryl nearly doesn't make it back in time.

series masterlist

Pairing: Eventual Daryl Dixon x f!reader Word Count: 1,704 Warnings: violence, blood, sickness A/N: thanks for reading!

You didn’t hear that Sasha had fallen ill until later that day. You’d overheard someone talking about her when you stumbled into the bathroom to splash your face with water. You were boiling, despite the relatively cool indoor space. You were also shivering and achy on your feet. 

After the craziness with Tyreese, you went to wash up and get something to eat, but by the time you returned to the cell, you were so dizzy you had to lie down. And when you woke up a couple of hours later in the afternoon, you felt like this. 

You heard another rumor of a council meeting taking place and wondered why nobody came and got you while you went to the prison section where you met. You were only halfway there when you had to start using the wall to help you walk, and sweaty handprints left a trail behind you. 

“She wasn’t in her cell when I went to get her. I’m not sure where she is,” You heard Carol saying as you approached the door. You started coughing as you slowly walked in. Everyone turned to look at you, but it was Daryl your eyes landed on. 

“Daryl… something’s wrong,” 

***

When Daryl saw you enter the room, he was on his feet and approaching you in a second. He’d managed to get to you as your knees gave out, and all your weight was put on him. 

“Son uh bitch,” He cursed, looking at your sweaty face. Your eyes were rimmed red, and you looked like hell. 

“Oh my God, (Y/N),” Carol said, hesitating to come over to you. 

Daryl looked around the room, “Don’ everybod’ help at once!” He yelled. 

“I don’t feel good,” You muttered, and he looked down at you again before looking at Hershel. 

“What can we do?” He asked, “We ain’ lettin’ her die like this.”

“The illness won’t kill me,” You said as he helped you into one of the chairs. 

Daryl looked up at Hershel, “Come on, old man, tell me what we gotta do,”

Your uncle looked at you sorrowfully and then at Daryl, “That veterinary college at West Peachtree College, that’s one place people might not have thought to look for medicine. We need to treat the symptoms. It's those that... that'll kill her.”

“That’s fifty miles from here,” Michonne said. She looked down at you and tried to control her panic.

“I’m goin’,” Daryl said, “As soon as we get ‘er to bed, I’m goin’,”

***

Getting you to the quarantine cell block was the longest walk of Daryl’s life. You seemed heavier in his arms, and your breathing wasn’t even. Every time he looked down at your face and saw how pale you were, he thought he was going to throw up. His heart was beating wildly, and his stomach sat like a rock. 

The thought of leaving you behind in the cell block almost made him pause outside the doors, but for the safety of everyone else, he knew you had to be in there. So he pushed on through, breathing through a bandana. 

Sasha sighed loudly when she saw him carrying you in, and she helped him find an open cell and get you settled. When someone yelled her name, she told Daryl she would look after you and then she was gone. 

Daryl carefully laid you on the bed. Your face was sweaty, and you were shivering at the same time. He checked your forehead; you were burning up. Some part of him wanted to put a hole through the wall, but it was concrete walls, and he wouldn’t be able to help you with a broken hand. 

“Daryl,” You mumbled.

“Imma go out and get you some meds,” He said, looking down at your pale face. “It’ll be all right, promise,”

He didn’t stick around to hear anything else. 

***

You weren’t sure how long you slept, but it was dark when you woke up. You still felt as sick as you did earlier but a little clearer-minded. And your uncle’s voice from a few cells down forced you onto your feet. 

The cell block was full of people coughing and groaning in pain. You wanted to lie down and join them, but that wasn’t who you were. So you slowly made your way to your uncle, who shook his head when he saw you. 

“You should be resting,” Hershel said, closing one of the cell doors. 

“I can help,” You said, following his actions and closing the doors. You couldn’t tell if people were dead or just sleeping, and you didn’t have the energy to check. But you forced yourself to keep moving. You closed another two cells before you started coughing again, and you leaned against the wall for support. 

A hot metallic sensation filled your mouth, and you started coughing up blood. You tried to yell for your uncle, but you couldn’t make a sound. You could barely hear the sound of Lizzie yelling and then gunshots. 

You glanced around the room and saw a few walkers roaming around. Above you, Lizzie was leading a walker down the hallway. You cursed loudly and grabbed your machete, aiming for the nearest walker. It took everything out of you, and you collapsed beside the dead body. Your body was too heavy to move, and you couldn’t respond when you heard your uncle yelling for you. 

But you watched him lead the other walkers up the stairs and the following gunshots. You coughed up more blood and managed to get to your knees. 

“(Y/N!)” 

You looked up at Maggie as she ran toward you. “Stop, stop, I’m fine! Uncle Hershel… needs you…I think it’s Glenn….” 

She nodded and went to find him, leaving you alone. 

***

“What the hell….” Michonne said as they approached the prison. 

Daryl stared at the section of the prison fence that had been pushed down, and thoughts of the prison being overrun filled his mind. Tyreese sped up and quickly reached the courtyard, where Carl and Rick were waiting. 

“What happened?” Michonne asked as they all got out of the car. Daryl listened to Rick’s story as they grabbed the medical supply bags.

“Gunshots were coming from A,” Carl said. 

Daryl didn’t need to hear anything more as he and Tyreese quickly ran toward the cell block. The two of them got into the block quickly, and the smell of sickness and death was heavy. Tyreese went off to find Sasha while Daryl looked around for you. 

The sound of someone struggling to breathe caught his attention, and he ran towards the back of the block, finally finding you. Crimson blood covered your mouth as you choked on the liquid in your lungs, and your body was shaking as you were asphyxiating.

“Hershel! (Y/N)!” Daryl screamed, dropping to his knees next to you. Your face was blue, and your eyes were closed as you struggled to breathe. 

“Get her on her side. She’s choking to death,” Hershel yelled from the second level. 

Daryl carefully moved you so you were on your right side, and blood poured from your mouth as your body shook. 

“Did you get another valve mask?” Hershel said. 

“In the bag!”

Your uncle was quick as he dug through the bag. He momentarily glanced at you in fear before finding the mask and pulling it out. “On her back, careful now,” 

“She’s dyin’!” Daryl yelled, grabbing the side of your face as more blood spilled from your mouth. Your chokes were getting harder, and your body was shaking furiously. 

“Hold her down!” Hershel yelled. 

Daryl pinned your arms down and used his body to hold your legs while watching in horror as your uncle started shoving a pipe down your throat. Your body struggled against the intrusion, and Daryl had to look away, trying to block out the painful gasps as you continued to choke. Your body was thrashing uncontrollably, and Daryl tried his hardest to pin you down. 

“Come on (Y/N)!” Your uncle yelled. 

Finally, the pipe set in, and air-filled your lungs. Your body stilled, and Daryl looked at your blood-covered face. He blinked away hot tears and sat back, watching your chest rise and fall with each pump. 

“Maggie’s up there keeping Glenn breathing. You need to do the same for her. I have to get the medication ready with Bob,” Hershel said. 

Daryl hadn’t even noticed Bob had shown up, and his anger towards the man dissipated when he remembered that Bob and Hershel would be saving your life. 

“Slow and steady, every few seconds,” Hershel said, quickly showing Daryl how to pump the air into your lungs. After a second, he passed the pump to Daryl. 

He blocked the sound of Hershel and Bob’s conversation and stared at your face. There was blood everywhere, and it still had a tinge of blue. Your hair was coated in blood, spit, and bile. Your skin was pale and sticky with sweat. But your chest was moving in rhythm, and he couldn’t be more thankful for showing up when he did. 

He couldn’t stop tears from falling this time and allowed himself a few seconds to grieve what had happened. You had nearly died before him; he almost didn’t make it. And the idea of you not being around anymore would’ve been enough to bring him to his knees if he wasn’t already on them. 

He wanted to hold you against his chest, feel your heartbeat, and hear your laugh. He wanted to roll his eyes at your stupid sarcastic comments and watch your eyes light up when you spotted a trail using the tracking skills he’d taught you. He wanted to see you frown when you took down an animal and then shake your head in agreement when he told you it was for the best. He wanted to cry at the idea of you almost dying and wrap himself around you to keep you there.

But he didn't do any of that. Instead, he sat there and kept a steady rhythm and brought life back into your body. 

[sapphic-coded]

I Swear That I Don't Have A Gun

You grew up in Ohio with your father, brother, and sister. Your family was small and strange. Because of that, you were picked on relentlessly at school. Until another weird kid showed up. Her family moved in across the street from you. It wasn't long until the two of you became friends. Your friendship became the light in your life. Until it ended suddenly. Rumors followed your friend's disappearance. Russian spies. You didn't see her again until you crossed paths at work.

Series Masterlist

Natasha Romanoff x fem Reader

Warnings: Imaginary violence. Reader is a messed up assassin and doesn't like recon jobs. Expensive alcohol. Minors DNI.

Word Count: 4.3k

Author's Note: I'm back from vacation and I caught covid. I wrote this whole chapter while I was stuck in quarantine so I apologize if anything doesn't make sense. Thank you again for the endless love you have shown this series. It's really fun to write and I'm glad you guys enjoy reading it.

Taglist: @natsxwife @iliketozoneout @newawakening9 @natasha-1million @ilovemcuff @beholdagaywriter

Chapter Four: Between Fact And Fiction, Which One Of Us Changed?

Mount Vernon, Ohio – 1992

The bark was rough against your hands as your foot found purchase against a sturdy gnarl. You reached for the thick branch above and dug your fingers into the familiar wood. It took hardly a minute to pull yourself up onto the branch. Your movement was fluid. Practiced. You have climbed this tree more times than you can count. You settled onto the thick branch, and it held your weight with ease. The branch you sat on was nearly as high as the roof of your house. It afforded you the best view of your small neighborhood. 

You looked down and found Nat confidently scaling up the tree. The moment she was close enough, you leaned down and offered your hand. Her hand wrapped around yours and you helped pull her up onto the branch with you. Your legs swung lazily as she sat down next to you. The sun had already begun its descent towards the treeline, and you felt nothing but raw excitement for the approaching weekend. Your father was wrapped up in communications with his past self and had made it clear that he was not to be bothered. Which left a whole weekend free to do whatever you wanted. No hunting trips. No extracurricular activities. Just two whole days of sweet freedom. 

Nat swung her backpack around, pulled out something, and then leaned her bag against the trunk of the tree. She held out something in a long, thin shiny packaging towards you. Your eyes widened, and your smile grew at what was unmistakably a delicious fruit roll-up. You took it and immediately tore open the wrapper. You ripped off a bite with your teeth and chewed on the sweet snack happily. 

“Your parents are way cooler than my father,” you said before you ripped off another bite with your teeth. 

Nat smiled and shook her head as she opened up the wrapper. “My mom says this stuff will rot your teeth. Ashley had a bunch of these with her at school today. I traded a yoo-hoo for these.”

You didn’t know who Ashley was. Her face in your mind was a blend of every other face you passed in the hallways. 

“You said your Dad had company?” Nat asked as she ripped off a piece of her fruit roll-up. 

You followed her gaze to your driveway that was largely empty except for your father’s station wagon. “He does. It’s one of his past selves. He doesn’t know when. They keep changing their story.” As you took another bite, the front door of your house opened and your brother and sister walked out. Your brother was dressed in one of his nicer black suits while your sister wore a black slip dress over a brown and black striped T-shirt. As they made their way down the driveway, another car turned onto the street and pulled up in front of your house. You didn’t recognize any of the other teens in the car, but they all looked to be either around your brother’s age or older. 

You chewed on your snack as you watched your siblings climb into the car and drive off. You had no idea if your brother ever worked up the courage to ask Sadie to the dance. Ever since you met Nat, most of your free time has been spent hanging out with your friend. Not that your siblings seemed to mind. In fact, they both seemed to like Nat when they crossed paths with you two the other day. 

“My Dad wants to pull out our grill one last time for the season,” Nat said as she ripped off another piece of her fruit roll-up. “You should come by tomorrow. My parents want to meet you.” 

You looked over at Nat. You knew exactly what your father would say if you asked him if you could go. He wouldn’t just say no. He’d find a way to make sure that such an opportunity would never come your way again. He tolerated your newfound friendship with Nat because it made you look normal. It kept up appearances. But going any deeper than that could turn a stroke of luck into a potential problem. 

You knew all of this, yet you didn’t feel fear as you settled on your answer. Your father would find out. It was pointless to hide anything from him. But whatever punishment he would dish out felt shallow. Your thoughts were anchored on Nat, and how nice it felt to be around her. She offered no judgment whenever you mentioned your family. She could have left you once the other kids told her how weird you were. But she stayed by your side. 

So you said, “Okay.” And all you could think about was spending your free weekend with your friend.

Stockholm – 2010

As the car pulls to a stop, your father hands you a folded piece of pale, yellow scrap paper. 

“Call your brother,” he says as you unfold the piece of paper. Scratched in quick strokes of black ink is a phone number. “He wants to talk to you.” 

You fold the piece of scrap paper in half and look over at your father. He is dressed in a black tuxedo suit with matching polished black shoes. His black hair is combed back from his face and in the dim light of the car, it is nearly impossible to see the faint white streaks peppered throughout. The smell of his cologne hangs heavy between you two. 

“Why?” you ask. 

“He did not wish to discuss his reasoning with me,” your father replies. “He insisted on talking with you.”

You shrug and sit back in the cushioned leather seat. “Then I’ll call him later.”

“No,” your father’s reply is calculated and sharp. You imagine him standing above you and barking orders in that same tone of voice. Go. Fight. Run. Kill. “You will call him now. This is a very important night. We cannot afford another mistake like Amsterdam.”

You roll your eyes. “When will you stop with that? I did the job.” 

“I will stop when you stop distracting yourself with that spy,” your father snaps. 

You shift around in your seat so you can face your father fully. “First, you have no proof that she was ever a Russian spy.”

“I have mountains of evidence, Y/N,” your father is quick to argue. “You just won’t listen.”

“Second,” you continue as if your father didn’t say anything, “she is not a distraction. Every job you have given me since Amsterdam I have completed. Even the ones that draw her out.”

Your father shifts around in his seat to face you fully as well. He points his finger at you. “That is it. Right there. You have just admitted it. You are drawing her out.” 

“I am not.”

“She is a distraction,” your father presses. “What do you think will happen once she has you right where she wants you?”

You laugh and roll your eyes again. “It’s not like that. We are just talking.” 

“She is your enemy, Y/N.” 

You shift back into your seat and stare ahead at the tinted window partition that separates the front of the car from the back. You fold your arms in front of your chest as you bite back the same old retort. It has been a little over a month since Amsterdam, and just about three weeks since London. You’ve done three more jobs since, and she hasn’t shown up at a single one. The disappointment you’ve been carrying around is crushing. You thought she was starting to get close. You thought she had finally picked up your trail. But you were wrong, and you hated the growing silence between the two of you. 

You hear your father shift back into his seat next to you. You don’t know how else to explain to your father that your conversations with her are not distractions. You have argued your point so many times, but he doesn’t listen. But if the past three jobs were anything to go by, he won’t have to worry about her for much longer. If she lost your trail, then only luck would put her back in front of you. You can feel your frustration beginning to resurface. There was still so much left unsaid. You were hoping for at least one more conversation. 

“Call your brother so we can carry on with our night,” your father says. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and open the car door. You step out onto a quiet sidewalk lit by the white glow of the streetlamp. The black Lexus you and your father have been riding in idles as you shut the door behind you. You make your way over to the payphone and dial the number written on the piece of scrap paper. As you wait for an answer, your hand dips into the pocket of your navy blue suit jacket. Your father had instructed you to dress up for tonight, so you had selected one of your favorite suits. Your suit jacket remains unbuttoned and reveals the white satin blouse beneath that scoops down towards your breasts. Your matching navy blue trousers run down the lengths of your legs and end at your black oxford shoes. 

“Hello?” your brother’s voice speaks through the receiver. 

You turn your back to the idling Lexus. “Hi.” You can hear your brother’s sigh.

“Y/N,” he says. “It’s good to hear from you. How have you been?” 

You shrug despite the fact that your brother cannot see it. You look down and kick a small pebble further down the sidewalk. “Fine. Work keeps me busy. You?” 

“Same,” your brother replies. “Long hours. Little sleep. Living off the vending machines whenever I’m not home.” 

“That sounds terrible,” you say. 

“It’s better than working for Dad,” your brother says.

You look over your shoulder towards the black Lexus for a moment. “Yeah…well…you do what you’re good at, and I do what I’m good at.” 

“Y/N–”

“Why did you want to talk?” you cut in. 

Your brother lets out another sigh. “I had a visitor last night.”

You look back down towards the sidewalk and spot another tiny pebble. You kick that one further down the sidewalk. 

“Your friend from Ohio.”

Your gaze snaps up and lands on the phone. Your grip on the receiver tightens as your heart starts to beat faster. 

“I’m pretty sure you know who I’m talking about since she mentioned running into you earlier,” your brother says. 

“She found you?” It’s the only question you can think of. Your mind is racing so fast. 

“I’m not that hard to find,” your brother replies. “It’s you she’s trying to find.”

Your free hand comes up and you press the palm of your hand against your forehead. You can’t fight back the smile that curls your lips. She’s trying to find you. And she’s closer now. It won’t be just luck that drops her back into your life. Just a matter of time. You can hardly wait. 

“She knows about your work,” your brother says. 

Your smile grows as you close your eyes. “What did she say?”

“That you’re really good,” he answers. 

You wonder how much she knows. Does she only know about your jobs in Amsterdam and London? “High praise from the dearly departed.” 

“Yeah, I…I’m sorry,” he replies. “I was just as confused about what happened. I just saw Dad twisting it into another one of his crazy theories and I…” 

Suddenly you’re back in Ohio standing in your front yard. The house across the street that once radiated an irresistible warmth stands cold and empty. Trapped in your small body, you feel numb. You don’t understand. 

“...I didn’t want him to hurt you more,” your brother’s words lead you back to the payphone. You open your eyes. “So I told you what I thought would give you the most closure.”

You run your fingers down the length of the phone cord. There’s something you want to say to your brother that has nothing to do with friends coming back from an assumed death. But you don’t know how to say it. So you stand there in silence.  

“We need to meet. All three of us.”

You blink and your brow furrows. “Why?”

“Because whatever Dad has you doing is more than just contract work,” he replies. “Your friend seems to think that your past jobs are all connected to something bigger. And knowing Dad, she wouldn’t be wrong.” 

You glance back at the black Lexus. “What else did she say?” 

“That she’s going to find you.” 

You wonder what she was wearing when she spoke with your brother. 

“Y/N, this is serious.”

You shake your head. “Fine. I’ll call you when I’m back at my place.” You say your goodbyes and hang up the phone. You tuck your brother’s phone number into your pocket and return to the car. The moment you settle back into your seat and shut the door, the car starts moving. 

The drive to your destination is not long. In less than an hour the car rolls up the driveway of a large luxurious mansion. The night air is cool when you step out of the car. The mansion’s large glass windows shine from the lights within. The quiet of the surrounding trees and gardens scattered throughout the estate reminds you of the peaceful quiet of your little cabin tucked far away. 

Your father’s orders are simple and straightforward. You are attending a party hosted by your father’s very important clients. Dine. Drink. Have fun. Don’t do anything else unless he tells you. You don’t argue. While you don’t care about these clients, you don’t mind entertaining yourself on their dime. 

The mansion is warm and bright when you enter. The sound of jazz music mixes with the lively hum of voices as you take in the sight of so many people all dressed in their finest suits and gowns. You don’t recognize any of them. Perhaps you should. These are all important people. People with some sliver of power. Certainly these people are probably CEOs or politicians or other important leaders. You wonder, as you casually walk further into the mansion, whether or not you’ve killed for these people before. 

The thought amuses you so much that you decide to make up stories for each stranger you pass. You had long left your father to mingle with his clients as you passed by two happy couples laughing at some joke. Your own lips lift into a smile despite not knowing what exactly they were laughing about. You just imagine shoving their old lovers, flames of passion long since burned out, off the roof of a mansion. Both couples looked like they owned mansions like this one. You imagine standing on the roof’s edge and looking down. You struggle to decide how strangely their bodies would break upon landing. It’s a hole in your imagination, but you are certain about the ring of blood that would surround the bodies. 

You swipe a glass of champagne from a passing waiter. You take a sip as you enter a much larger room. Off in the corner, a live jazz band is playing while more rich strangers mingle amongst each other. You spot a group of six gentlemen standing underneath a large abstract painting. As they talk, you imagine crushing the head of their rival beneath the sole of your boot. The rival’s scream would be terribly short lived and replaced with the crunch of breaking bone. You finish off your champagne and exchange your empty glass for another when another waiter passes. You also snatch up a fancy looking appetizer that tastes of a lovely blend of cheeses. 

You sip on your second glass of champagne as you wander around the crowded room. Your fantasies about these strangers fuels you. Barely an hour passes and you have imagined killing so many people. You can’t decide which fantasy is your favorite. You are torn between running over a sheriff with a tank or smothering an ex-lover in their bed. Both fantasies have an alluring thrill to them. You are starting to lean more towards the tank when one of the waiters stops next to you with a silver tray full of more drinks.   

“Would you like a new drink?” 

You abandon your fantasies the moment her voice reaches your ear. You look to your right. Standing next to you is Nat. She is dressed like all the other waiters roaming the busy rooms. Her white collared, button up shirt is nicely pressed and barren of a single blemish. The black vest she wears over her shirt is also without a single wrinkle. Black trousers cover the legs you remember straddling you back in Amsterdam. Her red hair is pulled back into another intricate braid that you are starting to adore. 

You look down at the empty champagne glass in your hand. The light chattering of all the other guests does not falter. The band continues to play. You feel the same rush from London warming every inch of you. Your earlier worries suddenly seem so humorous. You thought you had run too far ahead. You thought you knew what to do after hanging up the phone with your brother. Slow down. Give her time to catch up. 

But she has already caught up to you. 

And you can hardly contain your happiness. 

Your smile returns when your gaze lifts to meet her stare. “I’d love one.” You set your empty champagne glass onto the silver tray she is holding, and grab a fresh one. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” she asks. 

You take a sip of your third glass of champagne. “I am now that I have better company.” You gesture to the full glasses on the tray. “You should have some. It’s not very good, but it tastes expensive.” 

She turns slightly. “I’m working.” 

That’s hardly a surprise. If it’s not you working then it’s her. If she’s not working then you never see her. “When do you get off?” 

She doesn’t answer you, and you think you see a hint of a smile on her face, but another guest snatches away her attention before you can know for sure. You watch as she leaves and approaches the guest who called her over. The guest grabs two glasses of champagne before she walks off. You don’t follow. You stand there, sipping on your champagne, and watch. Every thought in your head is screaming for you to go after her. You still have so many questions. You still crave that blissful high you feel when it is just the two of you. You watch as she makes her way through the mingling guests. You finish your champagne the moment you see her disappear into another room. She shuts the door behind her and you can feel your palms start to sweat again. You know what this is. The invitation is blatantly clear. 

Your gaze sweeps around the gathered guests. You don’t see your father anywhere. Probably off talking to even more important clients. Perfect. You dump your glass onto the tray of another passing waiter as you cut through the crowd. Nobody else goes near the door as you get close. You turn and take one more look around at the busy party. Still no sign of your father. Just more strangers. You turn the doorknob, push open the door, and step into the room. 

This room is much smaller and not as brightly lit as the others. It looks to be some kind of entertaining room that only old wealth would have. In the middle of the room is a large wooden round table with eight dark brown leather armchairs surrounding it. Sitting on top of the table was the silver tray still full of drinks. Off on the right hand side of the room is an empty fireplace. To the left is a small bar where you find Nat. 

The door clicks shut behind you and muffles the noise of the party. You make your way to the table and settle into the armchair closest to the silver tray. “Are there any more of those fancy pigs in a blanket back there?” You grab a new glass off the tray and look over towards Nat. 

She turns around to face you. In her hands is a bottle of whiskey and two tumbler glasses. “No, but I think I found something better.” 

You smile as Nat sets the bottle and glasses down on the table. As she sits down in the armchair next to you, you reach forward and grab the bottle of whiskey. You examine the fancy label. “These people are always the same. They feed everyone the bad stuff and keep the good stuff for themselves.” You lift your champagne glass to your lips, tilt your head back, and finish the champagne in one greedy drink. You set the empty glass aside and reach for the two tumbler glasses. “I thought you were working.” 

“I am,” she replies. “I’m on break.” 

You open the bottle of whiskey. “Fun job?” 

She shrugs. “Recon.” 

You pour the whiskey into the two tumbler glasses. “I was never much of a fan of those jobs. Made the days feel long. I prefer keeping busy.” You set the whiskey bottle down before pushing one of the glasses towards Nat. She is watching you, and you love it. “But at least you have entertainment and good company. I spent my last recon job in a bunker.” Your smile drops a little at the memory. 

Her head tilts a little to the side. “The Idaho job?” 

You are about to pick up your glass, but stop. Your gaze had dropped to the fancy amber liquid. You try to remember when you had taken that job. It felt like a lifetime ago, but it couldn’t have been that long after your eighteenth birthday. That’s when you found your ‘groove’. When you had finally beat out the last bit of you that flinched every time you pulled the trigger. Your smile returns when you meet her olive green eyes again. How far back did she dig? Your fingers curl around the glass. “Two weeks spent in a place that smelled like piss and sweat. It’s hard to maintain your cover when you want to gag every time one of them goes near you.” 

“But you did,” she says as you lift the glass to your lips and take a drink of the whiskey. The smooth nutty taste washes over your tongue. “I doubt Hickman would have kept his back to you if he didn’t trust you.” 

The whiskey burns pleasantly as it goes down your throat. “Someone has done their research.” The memories of the Idaho job are still fuzzy, but you remember the weight of the shotgun in your hands. You remember the satisfaction you felt seeing Hickman’s body jerk forward from the deafening blast. The smell of gunpowder. The pieces of his head sticking to his desk. You lean forward and rest your arms on the table as you take another sip of your whiskey. “What do you think?” 

She doesn’t answer right away. Your heart is beating against your chest as you wait. You don’t exactly know what you want to hear from her. You just hope that it isn’t disgust. You have tasted bitter disappointment so often these past few weeks. You can’t take much more of it. 

“I think you’re really good,” she says. 

As your heart soars, you see a kind of sadness in her eyes that you don’t understand. 

“You have a very specific skill set.” 

Your smile grows as you lean back into the armchair. You hold your glass of whiskey in your hand. Her gaze never wanders from yours, and you don’t see any telltale signs of fear. It’s so common among all the people you meet when they realize what you are. But she’s not afraid. She doesn’t even look angry. It fills you with so much hope. It’s almost perfect. You just don’t understand why she looks sad. 

“Thanks for the compliment, Nat,” you say before you finish your whiskey. “I’m so glad you’re not dead. I missed having someone normal to talk to.” You see a flash of a smile cross her face. “We still need to catch up when we’re not doing all of…” you raised your arm and gestured with your hand towards the door. “...this. When are you free next?” 

“If you come with me, we’ll have plenty of time to catch up tonight,” she replies. 

“Tempting,” you say. “But I have a prior commitment I can’t miss. A family thing.” You stand up and set your empty glass down on the table. “But I’ll reach out after.” You turn and start towards the door. When you reach the door, you reach for the doorknob but stop. You turn and find Nat still sitting at the table. “Next time let’s do coffee.”

Her smile returns. It’s small, but it fills you with so much warmth. “That would be nice.”

Your hand falls upon the doorknob and when the door cracks open, the noise of the party spills into the room. You step out and back into the mingling crowd of guests. You allow your feet to carry you across the room as your mind begins laying the foundation of your next meeting with Nat. You end up so lost in your thoughts that you don’t notice your father until he is walking up to you with the proudest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. 

His hand settles heavily on your shoulder. “We’re almost there, Y/N.”

[thinemoonshine]

𓆰𝒶 𝒷𝓊𝒹 ♡𓆪

cha hyun su x female reader genre: romance, tiny fluff, angst, slowburn type: series (but can also be read as a oneshot) word count: 1,785

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ part 2 of series

Cha Hyun Su never really stands out in Green Home Apartment- both literally and figuratively. One, because he rarely comes out of his room, and the other is simply because he never bothers to socialize. So when he suddenly becomes this sort of 'saviour' for the residents when the mysterious monster outbreak started, naturally, he gathered attention- both good and bad.

Because he is in fact, abnormal. A paradox. He's an infected; a monster, the humans' common enemy and yet he's also a hero. And humans fear those that are unusual— even when they themselves have seen the goodness in his capabilities. Because as people tend to go, they prefer to see the cup as half empty, especially during these dire times.

So they use him— telling him to go on missions and retrieve items for themselves, ordering him here and there only to keep him isolated in the quarantine room right after. All this, just to make sure they're the ones who have the upper hand, they're the ones who have authority over this monster.

(y/n) is no different. She too sees the benefit of using Hyun Su to fulfill their needs and wants because after all, he's part-monster. If the other residents were to go instead, there'd be higher possibility they'd wind up killed or injured. But Hyun Su? He heals, dies less easily and has his monstrous quirks so what's the harm?

Is what (y/n) thinks as she stands in front of the isolation room with an energy bar in hand and a bottle of water filling just a quarter of it.

"...10 minutes. That's all you get," Eunhyuk says as he leans beside the door with arms crossed— looking down at (y/n) who nods at his words. His cryptic gaze flicker between her eyes before sighing and massaging his temple. "I'll be out here."

He unlocks the door and (y/n) slips right in, wanting to use the best she can get from the limited time but as soon as the door closes, her steps slow- surveying the dreary room that mimics the doleful dispositions of its members; which in this case is Hyun Su and the dour old man lying asleep on the lone couch at the far side of the room.

"Hyun Su," (y/n) starts and the said male lifts his head from his knees, shocked to see a healthy human inside this 'infected' room.

"(y/n)..." He mumbles and she feels a slight tug in her heart at the sound of his soft, seemingly withdrawn whisper. A strong urge to empty her already vacant stomach drowns her and she swallows. A sickening, bubbling feeling climbs up her throat as she stares down at his diffident form- round, doe eyes gazing up at her like a lost soul.

‘Guilty?’ Her own voice echoes but manages to pull a smile onto her face.

"I should've visited you earlier. I'm sorry," she apologizes sincerely and approaches- causing him to flinch before falling into a silent fluster. He scrambles left and right, not knowing whether he's allowed to be close to her. He's a threat, they all treat him like a virus and he can't help but admit that he might just be exactly that.

That is, until (y/n) captures his wrist before he can stand and he freezes entirely with widened eyes staring at her with horror.

"Don't—"

"Come. Let's have you eat something," (y/n) casually says and parks herself right beside him. "Here."

Hyun Su accepts the energy bar and drink on his open palms (graciously spread by (y/n)) while he stares at her curiously, almost scrutinizingly, and (y/n) would be lying if she says she isn't affected.

Those kind, gentle eyes and that unmistakably beautiful visage— she's melting. But she doesn't deserve to, he's much too good for selfish her.

"Thank you," he mumbles and that similar, painful strain occurs inside her again- but much more excruciating, disgusting, that her mien subconsciously twists and brows meet. He notices. "Are you okay?"

"What?" (y/n) croaks out and immediately purses her lips together. She can't. The guilt and loathe festering and rotting away her insides are catching up to her— devouring her whole being.

'What's the harm?? How could I ever think that? This... He's a human too,' she mourns in her head and is pulled out of it at the feeling of a warm sleeve pressing on her cheek. But the moment she looks at him, he retracts his hand and stumbles backward with his arm holding him upright on his seat- seemingly shocked at himself.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry... Sorry, I just, I— I won't... do it again," he hastily apologizes- no, pleads, for forgiveness almost, as he brings his eyes to the ground between them.

(y/n) furrows and touches her cheek- feeling the fresh tears before focusing back at his curled figure. "Why are you apologizing?"

He takes a moment to reply- taking his time staring at the cold floor before his fingers curl to a fist against it. "...You don't have to come here anymore."

"What?"

Is he... kicking her out? Forbidding her from coming here? It baffles her.

"You were forced to come here, weren't you? To... to accompany me or something, so that I'll keep doing the missions. But, you don't have to. I'll do whatever I'm told so you don't have to act nice for me. So please... don't be afraid," he requests politely- too politely for someone who thinks that he's being played with.

(y/n) shakes her head, puzzled, and sees him glancing at Eunhyuk from the corner of his eye- noticing him who's standing by the door. ‘Oh...’

"No, that's not it! I wanted to come here on my own accord. I'm not acting nice or—" 'Am I not?' Her thoughts intrude once more and her chest tightens- breaths shortening. "Listen, I actually here for my own selfish reasons. No one ordered me to and neither is it to get you on your good side or anything. Fact is, I felt guilty. "All this time, I did nothing but agree to let you go off on those dangerous missions on your own. I thought that it was better you than anybody else but that was selfish of me. None of us, even myself, we didn't even bother to stop and think how you must be feeling. How scared you may be. It's not like you chose this for yourself. We didn't even thank you for saving us. We never did because... we saw you as a tool, not as a person and I— Hyun Su, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorry," (y/n)'s voice turns weaker and fainter towards the end— shattering and squeaking like a creaky door.

Maybe it's his overwhelming goodness that suffocated her when she entered the room, or the pure, earnest gaze he wears but at the moment, she felt like an entire villain. And it feel so, so revolting. It makes her wonder how Hyun Su must've felt when he discovered he was infected; to accept his fate that he is a monster.

A series of apology leaves her as her eyes brim with tears- although refusing to face him, she can feel his burning gaze on him.

Cha Hyun Su was, to be honest, conflicted. He's upset because of course, he's noticed how he's only being used by them and he also knows that he's being treated as less than human but at the same time, he's upset that he can't really do anything about it even if he wanted to because truth is, he doesn't have the heart to hurt them.

Yet despite that, he is also... glad. Glad that someone is being entirely honest with him. Relieved that there's someone he can potentially trust, someone he can confide in just like how she's confided in him. He's happy that... he too might just have someone to rely on.

Someone who's brave enough to approach him, hold him, sit right next to him, and pour their heart out to him who is a monster. And this... this means much more to him than anything.

"...Thank you," he mumbles and he's oh so grateful when she finally turns to look at him. At her confused hum, he says louder, "Thank you."

Her face of pure befuddlement that seems to scream, 'Are you crazy? I poured my heart out and admitted I saw you less as human and you say thank you???' almost makes him chuckle. Almost- so instead, he smiles.

It's enough to knock the air out of her- but in a nicer way now. Not like before how she felt squeezed and suffocated from the burdening benevolence that emanated from him and amplified her guilt- but a nice breathtaking moment that belatedly alerts her that she's been staring far too long.

"You have a nice smile," is all she says before clearing her throat and whipping her face away- a gesture Hyun Su is thankful for because a second later, she would've noticed the redness blooming on his cheeks and ears.

Before he can respond however, the door swings open and in comes a strict Eunhyuk who casts his firm stare on both of them before halting at (y/n).

"10 minutes is up," is all he says and (y/n) scrambles up, embarrassed, and hurries to Hyuk's side.

The two make their way to the door, with (y/n) walking in front and Hyun Su watches intently- feeling a tug in his heart.

"(y/n)," he suddenly calls and she stops to turn- once again feeling her insides churn and yet again, a much better, positive feeling than before when she sees his blinding eyesmile.

It's the first time she's seen it- his eyes shaped into crescents, sparkling like the stars in the night sky as his face glows despite the dust and dirt painting his skin in streaks of grey.

His pale, plump lips part to speak. "Come again... soon."

(y/n)'s heart skips a beat. He's inviting her to visit him. A personal request, a choice and that makes her feel somewhat special.

Her own smile graces her face. "I will, Hyun Su."

And the door shuts between them.

note: and that's a wrap on my first ff here on tumblr!! it's a lengthy slowburn because i wanted to show that wall between them first- i mean, they are strangers at first. but anyways, i'm thinking of making more parts to this sometime soon but until then, happy reading!! ઇ♡ଓ

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