#HE'S SO INFECTED MY BABYGIRL | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

bluebeary-jay · 1 year

Text

Let me (put my lips to somethin')

Joel Miller x f!Reader

Summary: 5 times you wanted to kiss Joel, and 1 time it actually happened (or: your relationship with Joel over the years)

Tags: 5+1 babeyyy, VERY self-indulged (i just want this man to call me his babygirl 😫), FLUFF, tooth-rotting fluff even, a bit of angst, age gap, PINING, i could write several fics out of this but no we're doing 5+1! also reader has she/her pronouns (i tried not to but at some point it was getting difficult not to use any :( sorry guys)

Warnings: descriptions of violence and wounds, cursing, getting drunk, David (which is a warning in itself), allusions to SA (but nothing happens)

Word count: ~9.4K (jesus i really got carried away im not doing that again for at least some time)

A/N: i am baack!! i finally had time to finish this monster and i guess it's ready to post <3 i absolutely ADORE 5+1 fics and always wanted to write one on my own. so here it is!! hope you enjoy because i loved writing it

1. boston qz

You bit your forearm harder, trying to hold back the tears of pain. The man kneeling in front of you glanced up.

“Bite the sleeve of your jacket. Otherwise they’re gonna think you’re infected and shoot you on sight.”

You didn’t answer but nodded, knowing that he was right. Holding your breath for a moment, you took a handful of the material and bit down on it, shutting your eyes tightly. The excruciating pain in your leg was hard enough to endure, but for the first place with it competed an absolutely unbearable look of poorly concealed pity (which you initially took for irritation) on the face of Tess’ friend.

It was through her that you met Joel. At the beginning he wasn’t very keen about letting you work with them but slowly warmed up to your presence – at least as much as a man like Joel could. Most of the time he was grumbling and, in all fairness, looking slightly angry but you’ve soon understood that he’s actually a pretty good guy. Caring. Funny, if he lets you see this side of him. Also really fucking handsome, but that was beside the point.

The job was supposed to be an easy one – just meet with a couple of Zeke’s people, pick up the smuggled items and exchange them for some meds and ammunition. However, none of you expected some random rogue group to ambush you on your way back and attempt to steal the cargo.

Tess has managed to get away just before soldiers showed up, alerted by the sound of gunfire way past the curfew. Before they could spot any of you, Joel quickly pulled you into one of the nearby buildings after one of the strangers slashed your thigh, leaving you unable to run.

So now here you were. Bleeding from your leg and making a pathetic crybaby out of yourself before the very eyes of the man you respected and lowkey had a small crush on.

Speaking of whom, Joel gave you a look of sympathy before squeezing the stapler handle again, ejecting another staple into your skin. You tensed and a broken cry escaped your lips, your breathing rapid.

“It’s alright,” he murmured, putting his other hand on your knee and rubbing slightly. “Just two more and you’ll be good to go.”

You breathed out a humorless laugh and wiped your face, sniffling.

“Just get on with it. This is way more embarrassing than it should be.” In the corner of your eye you saw him look up. He didn’t move the hand in which he held the staple gun yet, so you took this moment to steady your breath and slumped against the wall. “You probably think it’s pretty pathetic, but in my defense I never had such a gash closed with staples like that.”

“M’not thinkin’ that,” he retorted and you blew a raspberry.

“Sure. Tess told me about some of your forays, you know? You could probably get run over by a damn tank and walk it off like it’s nothing.”

Joel was silent for some time. You wiped your cheeks and motioned for him to eject the last staples at the edge of the deep cut in your thigh. He mumbled to you to get ready and you took a deep breath, bracing yourself for the pain.

It hurt like hell and you couldn’t help the tears flowing from your eyes, but soon enough it was over.

The sound of shouting from outside drew your attention from the pain in your leg for a couple of seconds. You tensed up, listening intently if the soldiers weren’t busting in the building you were in, but the noises soon went past you.

“Y’know, if my brother was here, he’d have told you about the first time I had a wound stitched outside of the controlled conditions,” Joel spoke up unexpectedly, unpacking his backpack in search of clean bandages. “I nearly bit off my thumb when he was tryin’ to sew my foot back together.”

You couldn’t help but snort at his confession and he glanced at you from the corner of his eye with a slight smirk.

“Is that true?”

Joel huffed with fake indignation and lifted his left hand to your eyes, twisting it so that the dim light from outside illuminated the side of it. Above and below the small bone at the base of his thumb appeared very light and irregular lines. You looked at his face with an unbelieving smile.

“When was that?”

“Ah… Just before the outbreak, I’d say.”

“And what happened to your foot?”

“Construction work. I don’t remember exactly what that was.”

“But how hard did you have to chomp down on your thumb for it to be still visible?” you asked, laughing, to which he chuckled and shrugged.

“Hey, don’t judge. If it was Tommy who was fixin’ your leg, you’d probably end up without a couple of fingers too, just for good measure.”

He found the bandage and motioned for you to straighten your leg at the knee. You watched him carefully as he looked over your bare thigh and the (not very pretty to look at) sutured wound. The leg of your pants was cut and tossed away earlier so that Joel could stitch you up freely.

“So you have a brother. Is he really that bad at treating wounds?” you asked to distract yourself from the awkwardness of the whole situation, though Joel seemed surprisingly calm.

“He got better with time,” your colleague answered and then looked up at you. “But I didn’t tell you this to bitch about Tommy’s skills.”

“Oh?” you nudged him with your other leg. “So what moral should I draw from this story?”

You clearly saw him suppressing a smile when he shook his head lightly.

“Don’t feel bad that it hurts,” he murmured and the snicker disappeared from your lips. “I’ve seen looks like the one on your face plenty before. It’s a fuckin’ big gash, I’d be worried if you didn’t show any signs of pain.”

You couldn’t come up with any snarky remarks and just blinked when Joel sent you a quick, if not a bit self-conscious, smile, like he wasn’t used to reassuring someone else.

“The fact that you let your tears flow doesn’t make you any weaker,” he said even quieter than before. You still weren’t answering and he cleared his throat, apparently growing uncomfortable with your silence, then grabbed the bottle of alcohol. “I’m gonna pour some of that shit over your wound again. It’ll sting a bit.”

You observed without a word how he cleansed the gash and started to wind the bandage around your thigh.

Weirdly enough, you also noticed that you couldn’t stop glancing at his lips.

*****

2. bill and frank’s

“No. I said no, come back here!”

Giggles erupted from you as Joel tried (and failed) to grab you when you jumped over the couch. He sighed deeply as you made eye contact with him and, with a provocative smile, drank up the rest of the bottle before putting it down on the nearby table. The man looked so disappointed and done with you, it only made you laugh louder in your drunken state.

You two were staying for a couple of days at Bill and Frank’s heavenly place, which you looked forward to for weeks now. Originally Tess was supposed to go with you but there was a last-minute change of plans, and you made the journey alone with Joel. Not counting a few infected you stumbled upon on your way here, your venture was quite nice and after a delightful dinner with your hosts, you sneaked into Joel’s room with the bottle of wine Frank gave you and the stuff you smuggled yourself.

Joel didn’t seem to be having as much fun as you, though.

“I’m never drinkin’ with you again,” he muttered, sitting heavily on the couch with a grunt. You faked a pout, leaning over his head upside down and almost losing your balance.

“You’re grouchy because the stuff you brought tasted like shit.”

“And yet you drank most of it.”

“I didn’t,” you slurred, waltzing round the couch and grinning. “I’m feelin’ great.”

“Be careful or you’ll pick up my accent you so like pokin’ fun of.”

You snorted and flopped on the seat next to him. “Mhm, m’feelin’ fine and dandy,” you grumbled in the deepest voice you could make, ridiculously imitating his Texas drawl. “Yee-haw.”

“You’re the fuckin’ worst,” sighed Joel with exasperation but you could see a crooked smile tugging on his lips. You beamed and plopped down, laying your head on his lap. He peeked at you with his brows raised. “What are you doin’ now, you little devil?”

“Just resting,” you answered. The lamp behind Joel was blinding you with its light, so you covered your eyes with your hand to shield them. “Is that uncomfy for you? Do you want me to get up?”

“Nah. You can stay for a minute.”

As if wanting to make sure you won’t try to stand up, he laid his hand on your hair, brushing some of it to the back. You hummed and shivered when he gently scratched one specific spot on your scalp, and instinctively tilted your head, chasing his touch.

Joel snorted.

“You look like a goddamn cat.”

“Shut up,” you murmured in response, a small smile adoring your face. “It feels nice.”

You opened your eyes and once again shielded them from the lamp. Joel moved his head slightly to the side to block out the bothersome stimulus, causing you to giggle again.

“It looks like you have a halo ’round your head.” You lifted your arm and made a circle, brushing the side of his face when your hand plopped back down limply on your stomach. The older man huffed a smile, looking away to glance around the room.

“I’ll be really surprised if you remember anythin’ of what you’re sayin’ tomorrow.”

“Gimme a break,” you grumbled with a smile, not taking your eyes off him. Your hand raised itself to his face again, as if on its own accord, and brushed lightly the corner of his mouth and the stubble on his cheek. “It looks pretty.”

His brown irises flickered to you before he averted his gaze. With a hum you withdrew your hand and closed your eyes, your mind getting woozy from alcohol and tiredness.

Joel’s fingers were still running through your hair gently and you really hoped you’d remember it in the morning.

*****

3. road, somewhere in missouri

You had no idea how long you had been driving.

Ellie was asleep in the back seat and Joel was getting some well-deserved shut-eye after you volunteered to sit behind the wheel several hours ago. The clock on the dashboard was showing 4:07 and you planned on driving until the sun started to rise, then switching places with Joel.

That is, if you manage to stay awake.

You tried to drink some of the coffee Joel prepared beforehand to wake yourself up but it tasted horrible, leaving a too bitter taste on your tongue. Once you catched yourself closing your eyes for a second longer than intended and the car started to veer off course before you corrected it.

Yes, you were aware driving in this kind of state was extremely stupid, but you knew Joel was anxious to find his brother and drop Ellie off with the Fireflies as soon as possible. And you knew that if you wake him up he’ll insist on driving for the rest of the way himself, ignoring his own needs and exhaustion.

You risked a look to the side at his sleeping form. He had his arms crossed over his chest and his head propped against the headrest. Honestly, it looked like the man was just pretending to nap – his body seemed uptight, as if he was ready to spring into action at any second.

And he looked beautiful with his face bathed in the gray light of early morning. Like a painting you’d gladly admire for hours.

You sighed and cracked your neck, focusing on the road ahead of you. Several more hours to go. There was a gas tank in the back of the car, so you didn’t have to worry about that, and if you remembered correctly the map you and Joel studied earlier, you should get close to some bigger city in the late afternoon. Joel wanted to take the side roads and you agreed, but your supplies… Did you have enough of them? And what was the name of that city again…?

A hand grabbed the wheel and gently straightened the course when without you noticing the car started to veer too much to the left again.

You emerged from your reverie immediately and looked to the right at Joel who was now wide awake.

“You alright?” he asked with concern, and his voice had this enticing, raspy drawl to it that told you he really dozed off for a while.

“I’m so sorry,” you said quickly but quietly, not wanting to wake Ellie up. “I’m fine, promise.”

He eyed the tiredness on your face and the tight grip you had on the wheel.

“If you need to get some rest–”

“No, no, no. I can go on. Sorry you had to wake up.”

Joel grunted and stretched in the small space in the front seat and you tried really hard not to stare at how he craned his neck or at the way his muscles tensed, or at the strip of his skin revealed when his shirt rolled up…

“Pull over.”

You snapped out of your thoughts. “No. I told you I’m fine.”

“C’mon, darlin’, don’t make me wrestle with you in a movin’ vehicle.”

Either he had a clue about what this nickname was doing to you, or he was still half-asleep and it simply slipped out; but whether it was intentional or not, you couldn’t dream of opposing him now and with a defeated sigh (and burning neck) you pulled over, slowly bringing the car to a halt. You glanced backwards, but miraculously Ellie hadn’t woken up yet.

Joel looked you over with concern and you shut your eyes, laying your forehead on the steering wheel. “I’m sorry,” you repeated. “But I really can keep going, at least until the sun goes up.”

“We’re switchin’,” he just said, unfastening his seatbelt.

“Joel, no!” you hissed, but he ignored you and went around the hood of the car, stopping at your side and opening the door for you. “I’m not moving. You need to get some fucking rest.”

“I already did. Now scoot over.”

“No, I told you–”

“What’s going on? Are we there yet?”

Both of you looked back to see Ellie sitting up and rubbing her eyes. In a split second she went from half-awake to alert, and she eyed you and Joel suspiciously. “What’s going on?” she asked again.

“We’re switchin’ places,” Joel spoke up before you had a chance to answer the girl. “Our current driver is pretty tired.”

“I’m not!” you protested, glaring at him.

“You almost drove the car into a ditch.”

“Woah.” Ellie lifted her hands and puffed her cheeks in a nervous manner. “Just this time, I second Joel. I really don’t want to end up in a ditch, thank you very much.”

“You see?” Joel looked at you expectedly. “Outvoted.”

You squinted in the rearview mirror at the teen. “Traitor.”

Ellie just shrugged. With a heavy sigh you unfastened yourself and exited the car, but before you could go around it and take Joel’s previous place, he stuck his arm out, stopping you.

“Actually, Ellie, do you want to ride shotgun now?” he asked and nodded in your direction. “It’d do her good to lie down for a bit.”

“No,” you said firmly at the same time when Ellie agreed with an enthusiastic “hell yeah!”. You crossed your arms over your chest and glared at the pair. “You guys are in cahoots.”

“Boo-hoo,” Ellie had a mean smile on her face. “Get in the backseat and cry about it.”

“She’s so cheeky,” you murmured to Joel, trying to hide your smile, and by the look of it he had trouble doing that, too. You sighed and lifted your hands in surrender. “Alright, you two. You won.”

“Great.” Ellie grinned, then started walking off the street. “But give me a moment, dudes, I gotta pee,” she said before marching further into the field on the side of the road.

“Don’t go too far!” shouted Joel after her.

“Don’t drive off without me!”

With that Ellie disappeared behind a small hill and you turned back to your companion, scrunching your face at him. Joel shrugged and walked past you.

“C’mon. I’ll find you a blanket.”

You huffed but didn’t argue further, knowing nothing will change his mind. He could be stubborn as a mule sometimes.

You climbed into the backseat and waited for Joel to take out the blanket you took from Bill and Frank’s house from the back of the car. He opened the door next to your head and handed it over, waiting for you to unfurl it. You expected him to go take the driver’s seat right away, but he stayed in place. Only then you noticed the folded jacket he was holding in his hands.

He didn’t react at all to your raised eyebrows and questioning look, and just casually laid his jacket under your head to serve as a pillow. The gesture was so sweet it made you melt inside, and you just couldn’t stay mad at him.

“Promise me you’ll get some sleep.”

“Only if you and Ellie aren’t too loud,” you teased, trying to settle down the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. “If you start arguing about some stupid shit again, I’m taking the wheel from you by force.”

He smirked and squatted next to your seat, looking down at you with an amused expression.

“I’d like to see you try.”

You had to be really fucking tired, because for a split second you thought that Joel has just flirted with you. You hid your face in his jacket to partially conceal your smile, but it only made your face hotter because the material smelled of him so much.

“I could. You’re lucky I’m deciding to show mercy.”

“How gracious of you. I’m honored.

“But we’re swapping places when I wake up,” you added, looking at him as sternly as you could. He raised his eyebrows with a half-smile when a yawn escaped you immediately after. “I’m serious, Joel.”

“Sure, darlin’.” He leaned in and kissed your forehead before standing up. “Now sleep.”

You could only stare into space as he carefully closed the door next to your head and walked around the vehicle with heavy steps. The spot on your head where his lips touched your skin was tingling and you inhaled deeply to calm yourself down before he entered the truck again and fastened the seatbelt.

Joel put some cassette into the tape deck and turned the volume down even before the song started to play.

You closed your eyes and wrapped the blanket tighter around yourself, hiding the lower part of the face – and a blush spreading on your cheeks – under the cover.

*****

4. jackson

You looked out the window at the children pulling their sleds behind them and smiled at how happy and carefree they looked. Down the road you could just barely see the big Christmas tree in the square and for a moment it felt like the apocalypse had never happened.

“They’re pretty lucky to be growing up here,” you said quietly. Joel was closing and opening cabinets behind you, clearly looking for something.

“Not sure about it. But I guess it beats growin’ up in any of the QZ’s or Fedra’s barracks.”

After Joel’s sudden change of heart and Ellie’s confident decision that she’d rather travel with you both instead of Tommy, the younger Miller convinced his brother to stay one more day in Jackson. It was honestly a good idea because you doubted any of you three got any rest the previous night. You certainly didn’t, tossing and turning the entire time from worry.

Joel chuckled and the sound pulled you out of your thoughts.

“What did you find?” you asked. He was kneeling in front of one of the cabinets, holding a small box.

“Old cassettes. You want to listen to some music?”

“Sure.” You stood up with a smile. “It’ll be pretty atmospheric.”

Joel gave you a dirty look.

“I’m not putting on Christmas carols.”

“I don’t want to listen to Christmas carols. Find something good.”

He sighed and took out a carton box from the cabinet, and then started to rummage through it. “Alright, so what do you want?”

“You can choose. Pick something you think I’d like.” A thought struck you and you glanced around the living room, furrowing your brows. “Is there even any tape player in here or something like that?”

“Upstairs,” Joel mumbled absent-mindedly. “In Ellie’s room. We can go see if it works.”

Ellie was out exploring Jackson and you doubted she’ll be back very soon. You knelt down next to Joel, looking at him with a grin as he inspected the box, pulling out and reading some of the cassettes before putting them back down. You rested your chin on your hands.

“Just get anything,” you ushered after some time, to which he chuckled.

“You said to pick somethin’ you’d like. Gimme some time.”

“Do you think I’m that picky?”

“Of course you are.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t have to wait much longer before Joel stood up with a grunt and held out his hand to you. In the other one he held a white cassette.

“C’mon. I’m pretty sure you’re gonna love this one.”

You took his hand with excitement and let yourself be pulled to your feet. It’s been so long since you’ve been able to listen to some music – well, maybe not as long, but you missed it regardless – that you felt a bubbly joy at the thought of hearing something new.

And more than that, something that Joel has picked specifically for you. Doesn’t matter that you had to ask him.

You went upstairs to the room that was currently Ellie’s bedroom and Joel bent down, inserting the cassette into the tape player. He looked over his shoulder at you with a small smile and you beamed right back.

A loud, scratchy sound rang out.

You winced and Joel furrowed his brows. He took the cassette out, checked the empty slot and the cassette itself, and then made sure the power was on.

The first notes started to play, but they sounded distorted, like a scratched record. Joel cursed and tried again, but there must’ve been something wrong with the device, because no matter what he did, the music didn’t play right.

He tried again and again, and finally you decided to put a stop to it. You placed your hand on his shoulder.

“Leave it, Joel. It’s okay.”

“Just my fuckin’ luck,” he muttered, not turning around. “Of course Tommy gave us a place without a working cassette player.”

“It’s okay,” you repeated. You wanted to say something like ’the song probably isn’t even worth fussing over’, but the words got stuck in your throat. He picked it for you to listen to, of course it was worth it. “Maybe I just wasn’t meant to hear it.”

The man worried his lip and you quickly averted your gaze. He straightened up and put his hands on his hips, sighing.

“Nonsense,” he answered, looking intently at the device like he wanted to get it to work by sheer willpower. “You wanted to hear it.”

“Well, I did.” You got embarrassed for whatever reason, not knowing what to say. “But there’s not really anything we can do about that. It’s no big deal.”

Joel’s jaw twitched and he turned to look at you thoughtfully. You offered him a lopsided smile, but he didn’t move a muscle and you could almost imagine small gears turning in his head when he had this expression on his face.

“You okay?” you asked with a stifled laugh.

“I… have an idea,” he said slowly, almost hesitantly. Then he focused his eyes on you again. “Just… trust me for a moment.”

Your gaze softened and you took a step closer to him.

“Joel, of course I trust you. I trust you with my life.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed but his brown irises haven’t left yours for even a second.

“Close your eyes.”

“What?” you asked with a crooked smile, but he just shook his head.

“C’mon, close your eyes. And promise you won’t laugh.”

Confusion washed over you but you closed your eyes as requested. You heard Joel sighing and then he took your hand in his calloused and rough one, slowly putting it on his shoulder. Your neck got way too hot but you tried not to tense or flinch in fear of making him back out.

“Promise you won’t laugh,” he repeated and you just now realized you haven’t answered him. He put his hand on your waist, very, very lightly, and your other hand was raised to shoulder height, cradled in his warm one.

“I swear I won’t,” you whispered, your heart beating so damn loud you were scared he was going to hear it with how close you two were.

Joel exhaled heavily and you felt his breath on your hair.

And then he started to hum quietly and sway you gently from side to side. You desperately tried to remain calm, but how were you supposed to do that when your body felt so hot and he was so close–

“I reached inside myself and found nothin’ there… to ease the pressure… of my ever-worrying mind, hmm…”

Joel’s voice was deep and harsh right in front of you, and it sounded more like he was purring than singing. You suspected he slowed down the pace of the song significantly to match his movements and your heart swelled with warmth and adoration. The smile on your face widened and you took a step to the left, then to the right, gradually engaging in your dance more and more. You wanted to make it less uncomfortable and awkward for him and it seemed to have worked a bit because the next lines were much more confident, and his voice steadier.

“All my power wasted ’way, fear the crazed and lonely looks the mirror’s sendin’ me these days, hmm…”

His hold on you tightened slightly and you held his hand a little more securely, unable to hold back a goofy smile on your face.

“Touch me… how can it be? Believe me… the sun always shines on TV.”

You were falling for him all over again and it was not fair that he made you promise to keep your eyes closed. Though if he didn’t, you’d probably end up doing something dumb.

Like kissing him.

Fuck, you wanted to kiss him so bad.

“Hold me… close to your heart. Touch me… Give all your love to me. To me…”

Did he just pull you closer or was it you that took a step forward? It was hard to tell without seeing where you step, but you suddenly were very aware of the material of his shirt under your chin and the smell of shampoo he used to wash his hair, the pressure of his hand on your lower back and his quiet, drawling voice right next to your ear.

You were positive you’re about to pass out.

And it felt blissful.

Joel kept humming the chorus of the song, his voice getting softer and lower with each word. You relished in the warmth of his embrace, begging any higher power that he won’t let go of you immediately once he stops singing.

He didn’t.

Instead you two kind of naturally came to a stop but neither of you moved, still standing chest to chest and breathing a bit shakily. Your palm – or maybe it was his – was sweaty, but you ignored the unpleasant feeling, wanting to stay like this as long as possible.

“The original is much more lively,” Joel spoke in a soft whisper after some time and you smiled lightly.

“Well, I really liked your version,” you answered just as quietly, not wanting to disturb the intimate atmosphere in the room. “Joel?”

“Yes, darlin’?”

“Can I open my eyes now?”

A moment of silence.

“Yeah.”

You did so, but didn’t move your head, still keeping it on his shoulder and breathing in his scent. “Thank you for that,” you whispered and you felt him nodding.

“Anytime.”

His fingers crept a bit higher up your spine, but still his touch was so light and unsure.

You realized with a flicker of hope that he wasn’t pushing you away. He was pulling you closer.

Careful not to move too abruptly, you lifted your head and turned it to look him in the eyes. They were already on you, so very close, warm and hesitant, but also not showing any signs of discomfort or regret.

“Joel?” you asked again and you were so close to each other, it came out less as a question and more like a quiet breath. He heard it, though.

“Yeah?”

“Can I–”

Suddenly the door downstairs slammed extremely loudly and you both jumped when the noise broke the heavy silence.

“Hello! Is anybody here?!”

Ellie came back.

Both of you automatically took a step backwards, letting go of each other. Your face was scorching hot and you couldn’t force yourself to look at Joel. With a deep (hopefully unnoticed by the man standing right in front of you) breath, you quickly tried to get a grip on yourself when you heard Ellie running up the stairs.

“I was calling you, guys!” she panted and looked from you to the older man. “What’s up?”

“We…” Joel cleared his throat. “Tried to put some music on. The darn thing isn’t workin’, though.”

“Ugh, that’s a bummer.” Ellie turned to you and tilted her head. “Were you out, too? Your face is all red and shit.”

Even if it wasn’t before, it certainly was now. All attention shifted to you in a second and it made you want to cry.

“Yes,” you uttered quickly, “and… I’m actually going out again. I wanted to ask Maria something.”

You didn’t wait for any of them to stop or question you further – you all but ran down the stairs and bolted outside without even taking a jacket or a hat.

Fuck…

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

*****

5. basement, somewhere in colorado

He was dying.

Joel was dying and there was nothing you could do to help him.

You tried your hardest, though, to take care of both him and Ellie. You went out hunting so she wouldn’t have to starve, you encouraged her to get as much rest as possible while you watched over the unconscious man during the night, and not once did you show any doubt that Joel will get better.

But you had a feeling she knew why you were so reluctant to stay behind while the girl took her turn looking for food. The truth was, you were starting to crack if you sat for too long at Joel’s side, letting the intrusive thoughts take root in your mind. You needed those moments outside, because they were the only ones when you let your tears flow.

So when it was only you and him in the basement, you spent this time brushing the hair out of his face and coaxing him to drink. You checked his wound every so often, trying to keep it as clean as possible. You held his hand, humming to him that one song he sang for you in Jackson, though you didn’t know the words.

It was painful, to just sit in place and be unable to do anything to help, but you tried not to break down. Not when both of them counted on you.

So you stayed strong, hoping it’ll all turn out alright.

But luck still wasn’t on your side.

The men Ellie encountered the day before were here now, looking for you and Joel, and hungry for blood. She told you all about her interaction with them and since yesterday you were ready for a fight in case they showed up, but somehow it still surprised you and made your heart hammer in your chest in fear.

There wasn’t anywhere you could run to, and Joel wasn’t even able to keep his eyes open, let alone walk. You didn’t really have any other options.

So there was only one thing you could do, and that was to protect those closest to you.

You quickly took your backpack and passed Ellie your gun, closing her fingers around the cold metal.

“I’ll barricade the door, but if anyone comes in here, you blast their skull open, you hear me?” you whispered urgently and the girl nodded. You took Joel’s rifle from the floor and hung it over your shoulder. “I’ll try to take them out and lead them away. I’ll be back.”

“You better come back,” Ellie muttered and you looked at her softly, nodding. Then your gaze involuntarily shifted to Joel.

You didn’t know how many people were outside – if there were three or four of them, you should be able to shoot most of them before they notice you. If you don’t miss, that is.

But if there were more…

Choking back a nervous sob, you knelt next to the mattress and took Joel’s head in your hands. His eyes were only half-open and his forehead covered in sweat. Your heart clenched painfully at how weak he looked.

Acting on impulse, you leaned down and softly kissed the place above the corner of his mouth.

“Wake up,” you said to him firmly, brushing his cheeks with your thumbs. “Please, Joel. Ellie and I need you.”

You knew you had to go. You had to go now and make sure those fuckers outside don’t find Ellie and him.

But you stayed just for a second longer to press your forehead to his.

“I love you,” you whispered, so quietly you barely heard yourself.

And then you pulled away and ran upstairs.

From then on it was all a blur. You managed to kill one of the men with a clean shot between his eyes, but the other one ducked out of the way when he noticed you. Turned out there were six of them – too many – and what’s worse, one of them came up behind you, forcing you to flee sooner than you’d planned.

It would probably be wiser to take the horse but you didn’t want to endanger the poor creature, so you ran on foot.

You didn’t get far. One of the men managed to shoot you in the leg, making you keel over onto the frozen ground with a scream of pain. You turned around and saw him lifting his gun again before another voice yelled that he wanted you alive.

No. No, no, you weren’t about to let them take you.

You crawled towards where your rifle lay in the snow but just before you could reach it, it was kicked away by a heavy boot which then dealt a severe blow to your stomach. You doubled over, wheezing and coughing for air. By the time you managed to somehow catch your breath, someone pressed their foot on the gunshot wound in your calf, forcing a scream of agony out of you.

“Now, stay calm. I don’t want to shoot you.”

You clutched at your leg, glaring up at the ginger man who you suspected was the same David Ellie has encountered.

The man grinned nastily at the state you were in, and you didn’t like his expression one bit. He must’ve noticed that you were ready to lunge at him at any moment because he swiftly lifted his gun to your head. You froze.

“Where is your friend and the girl?” he asked quietly. You sneered at him, baring your teeth.

“Fuck you. I ain’t telling you shit.”

“David, she killed Paul,” spat another, younger one, looking down at you with hatred. “If that bastard has already died, let’s at least kill his bitch.”

You tried to think of a way to get out of this situation, but both of the men had their guns pointed at you and you knew you wouldn’t be able to move quickly enough with the gunshot wound.

You tried to move slightly but David pressed his foot harder on your leg, causing more blood to flow from your wound and you cried out, the pain clouding your vision.

“Don’t try anything, sweetheart,” he murmured in a warning tone. “You might bleed out.”

Your eyes were full of hate and rage but you didn’t dare to move again just yet.

“Where are they?” David asked again and you huffed a humorless chuckle while trying not to show how much pain you were in.

“You know that it was me who killed that idiot?” you asked in the most mocking tone you could muster, in the meantime desperately thinking how the fuck you were going to get out of here, preferably alive. “And your friend over there.” You nodded in the direction of where the body of the man you shot was lying. “Which one of you stood next to him? Was it you?” you asked the younger man who shot you in the leg. “I hope I hadn’t splattered you too much with the remnants of his brain.”

“You little bitch,” the other man sneered, lifting his gun again despite David’s stern order to back off. “I’d love to see the face of your friend when I blast your–”

“Leave her alone, you fuckers!!”

All of you turned your heads and your stomach churned when you saw Ellie on the horse you borrowed from Tommy. More shots rang out in the air when she blindly fired at the two men standing above you, and then the rest of the strangers who emerged from between the trees.

“Alive!!” David yelled after his men when they started chasing Ellie who grabbed the reins and cantered in the opposite direction. Then the man turned back to you. “We will catch her. Then we will find your friend, and he’ll pay for his sins.”

You growled.

“I told you it wasn’t him who killed that man.” He shook his head and you fumed with anger. “You don’t think I’m capable of that?”

“Oh, I think you’re capable of a lot.” His stare slid down your body, from head to toe, and terror gripped your heart at the sadistic excitement in his eyes. “And I think you must really care about him if you’re ready to trade your life for his. Such loyalty is admirable, but your love is misplaced.”

The snow around you was getting more and more red and you really started to worry that the bullet might’ve hit an artery. David’s eyes shifted to your leg as well, and he hummed.

“We’ll take care of that, don’t worry. You’ll be well taken care of in our community.”

“I don’t want to be any part of your fucked up sect.”

“You will. You just need a father to lead you to the right path.” He leaned over you in such a manner that it made your blood run cold. “I’ll teach you personally.”

Suddenly a shot echoed in the air and you heard a distant neighing of a horse. Your head automatically turned in the direction of the noise and David took advantage of your moment of distraction to strike your temple with his gun, thus knocking you unconscious.

*****

+1. silver lake

Joel woke up.

And he felt like he was made out of pure adrenaline and rage.

You weren’t with Ellie when he found her staggering through the snow, the face of the teen terrified and covered in blood. He comforted her as best as he could, relief and fear fighting inside him as he held the girl in his arms.

But she didn’t know where you were held. If you were even alive.

And that was a thought that Joel couldn’t bear. He wouldn’t even allow for the possibility that you were no longer…

He vaguely remembered you stroking his cheek with slow and delicate touches, and your humming while he was laying on the mildewed mattress in the basement. Maybe it wasn’t even a memory, but a dream – it was hard to tell in his delirious state.

But he was pretty sure he wasn’t hallucinating when he felt soft, cold lips right next to his and heard your voice – he knew it was your voice, he’d recognize it anywhere – whispering the words he never let himself hope you’d say to him.

Words he would be damned if he didn’t say back to you.

And that’s why he was merciless with the men he encountered on his way to you and Ellie. His own tiredness and pain piercing his abdomen didn’t matter – nothing mattered when you two weren’t with him, when he didn’t know if you were hurt or even still breathing. The desire to help and protect his girls numbed the pain in his stomach so much that he almost forgot he could barely stand just a few hours ago.

Once he found Ellie and took her to a safe location, he went back to look for you. He didn’t want to leave the girl alone, but she seemed terrified at the prospect of going back and through the buildings, so he left her his gun, promising to be right back.

One of the bastards Joel ran across on his way back was helpful enough (after being shot in both knees and having his forearm broken) to direct him to the place where you were supposedly being held – a small building hidden behind the still burning dining room.

No one else stood in his way when he cautiously reached the structure. He went in and started checking every single room, getting more and more anxious every time he found them empty. At one point he was ready to tear the walls apart and go back to see if there was anyone left alive who could tell him where you were – but then spotted a hidden, smaller metal door, which apparently led to the basement.

It wasn’t locked and Joel didn’t hear anything on the other side so he opened it slowly, quickly walking down the stairs and scanning the room for any enemies, but there were none. Half of the room was enclosed by a chain-link fence and the entry to the cage was slightly open.

And inside sat you, with a cloth around your eyes and hands tied above your head.

His knees almost gave way under him from relief when you perked up at the sound of his footsteps. You were alive. You were–

“If you fucking try to touch me again, I’ll break more than your stupid jaw!” you yelled out of the blue, starting to struggle and kick haphazardly, though the placement of your wrists was forcing you to stay in a sitting position. “You motherfucker, don’t come any closer!”

The fear and desperation in your voice broke Joel’s heart in an instant and made him stop dead in his tracks.

“It’s me,” he hurried to say, but his voice was weak and the next words got stuck in his throat when he saw your bloodied nose, bruises on your face and neck, as well as a dirty bandage tied around your calf with a seizable crimson stain on it.

He ushered inside, opening the door to the cell wide open with a loud scraping. You started panicking even more, cursing and kicking when he crouched next to you, intending to untie your hands.

“I said don’t fucking touch me! I’ll kill you!” you screamed and Joel actually had to back away a little to avoid getting kicked in the ribs.

“It’s me!” he said louder, but it was clear you didn’t hear him. In a quick movement he reached out, yanking the blindfold off your eyes, and put his hands on both sides of your face. “It’s me. Joel.”

In the first moment his touch made you recoil and the look of fury deepened on your face while you continued to scream bloody murder. Your eyes were so wild and terrified, Joel wanted nothing more than to pull you close to his chest and never let go.

“Look at me, baby. It’s alright,” he whispered soothingly, brushing his thumbs over your cheekbones like he vaguely remembered you doing when he was unconscious. “It’s me. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Your eyes slowly started to focus on his face for the first time since he took the blindfold off, and Joel felt like something was tearing his chest apart at the sight of fear and disbelief on your face.

“It’s okay, darlin’,” he muttered in a strangled voice, trying not to show he was close to crying, too. “It’s me. You’re safe now.”

A broken sob issued from your throat when you took in the sight of him, your eyes lingering on his face and stomach where the wound was.

“...Joel?”

“I’m here,” he said softly, quickly cutting the ropes binding you to the indent in the wall and wincing when he saw the red and purple marks around your wrists. “It’s okay.”

It wasn’t okay, not for you and not for him. Your body was trembling when he finally cut your hands free and without hesitation gathered you in his arms. It seemed like all the bottled up stress was pouring out of you now with the tears as you cried into his jacket and he held you tighter.

“J-Joel…”

“I know, babygirl,” he whispered into your hair, rocking you both back and forth slightly. You were clinging to him almost desperately and it pained him physically to see how scared you’ve been this whole time, but you were safe now, you were back with him and you were alive… “I know. I’m so sorry.”

You pulled away abruptly and looked over his shoulder, your face crumpling in despair when you saw no one there.

“They took Ellie, I don’t know where–”

“She’s safe,” he quickly assured you. “She got out and I found her just before comin’ here.”

You nodded with a sigh of relief, and he shifted his gaze to your calf, gently laying his hand just above the bandage.

“How’s your leg? Can you walk?”

“One of those fuckers shot me,” you murmured, not moving or attempting to stand up, which concerned Joel. “I didn’t really have a chance to see if I’ll be able to stand on my own but they sewed it up provisionally.” Your eyes flickered to his and you smiled softly, brushing your fingers over the back of his hand. “Not as well as you, though.” Then your smile disappeared and your hand grabbed his in a firm grip, like you wanted to make sure he was really here. “How are you, though? I was… Shit, I was so afraid I’d lose you.”

Joel could only stare at you, having no clue what to say.

He was not good at talking. He knew what he should do, though – he should examine your leg and make sure it was alright, he should go back to Ellie and get you two out of here, he should calm down his goddamn pounding heart so that he doesn’t pass out and cause you any more trouble.

But he couldn’t will his muscles to move. He couldn’t do anything, he couldn’t think about anything at all – not when you were sitting in front of him, looking at him with those tearful, gorgeous eyes of yours, holding his hand so tenderly but firmly, your touch so soothing, so familiar, and he remembered vaguely the same fingertips caressing his face.

And your voice, those words…

You said his name haltingly, but he didn’t register any of that, instead letting the overwhelming feelings of relief and fear, and – and adoration – take hold over his body, and he affectionately took your beautiful face in his hands.

Your eyes widened slightly but then these irises he dreamt about so often flickered to his lips and your own parted slightly, and that was all he needed before he leaned in and kissed you deeply.

There was a moment of hesitation on your part during which Joel began to worry that he didn’t read the situation right after all, but then you cupped his cheeks, too, and pressed yourself closer to him, letting him envelop your form in his arms with a quiet sigh.

It was better than he could have ever imagined. He could taste a hint of blood on your lips and hot, blinding rage surged through his veins at the thought of those bastards hurting you. His kiss turned harder and more desperate – he needed to make sure you were really here with him, he wanted to feel your every breath in his own lungs. You didn’t pull away, only tangling your fingers in his short hair, and the small noises you were making were driving Joel crazy with lust and relief. He felt dizzy, like he was going to faint again but he pushed through it, keeping his attention solely on you.

The second you two parted, even before you had a chance to catch your breath, the words started spilling out of his mouth fumblingly.

“Listen, I… I heard you,” he whispered, panting like he just ran a mile – and his heart certainly acted like he did. “M’pretty sure I wasn’t halucinatin’, but even if– doesn’t matter, I want… no, I need to tell you this, I…”

He exhaled nervously and shook his head, avoiding eye contact with you because he was damn sure he'd burst into flames if you looked at him like that again.

Fuck, he was really not good at this.

He cursed under his breath, missing a concerned look you gave him, and felt your hand covering his where it was still situated on your cheek. He knew that with this gesture you wanted to make it easier for him somehow, but it only caused his chest to get even warmer and tighter. “Joel, slow down–”

“I… I love you,” he finally choked out, softly brushing your cheekbones with his thumbs. And damn his old, faulty heart, he wanted to gaze into your eyes again, even if it was going to kill him, so that’s exactly what he did. “I loved you for so long, darlin’, and I got so fuckin’ scared that I won’t be able to tell you and, and it’s okay if I only imagined you saying that and you don’t feel that way, but I needed to tell you, I…”

All strength left him when he paused to draw a breath. His vision was becoming blurry and for a second he was certain he’s losing consciousness again, but it turned out they were only tears filling his eyes, blurring your form before him.

Which was even worse, somehow.

“I’m sorry.” He intended to sound reassuring and strong but it came out more like a broken whisper and he hated himself for feeling so weak and helpless when you and Ellie needed comfort and strength. He couldn’t help it though – all this time when he was looking for his girls the only things that kept him going were anger, terror and regret. Now there was relief, yes, but… he felt so very tired and old.

You turned your head slightly to plant a soft kiss on the inside of his palm, and Joel’s head snapped up. Tears were filling your eyes and he immediately scanned your body for other injuries, any signs of damage or pain, but then this gorgeous smile he so loved illuminated your face, and it put all of his anxieties at ease.

“You weren’t hallucinating,” you said quietly. “I did say that. And I love you, too, Joel.”

He couldn’t help a short, breathless and broken laugh that escaped him when he really heard you speaking those words, this time as clearly as day.

You sniffled and mirrored his smile, and in the next second Joel was kissing you again.

He knew you two had to go, had to get back to Ellie and leave this god-forsaken place, so he tried to be quick, but you – your smile, your touch, all of you – were so distracting and not eager to help him pull away in the slightest.

“I love you too, babygirl, love you so much.” He peppered your face with kisses, ignoring tears running down his cheeks and disappearing into his beard and under your hands. “So fuckin’ much… Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

“Because your old heart can’t handle it?” you teased and he huffed a laugh. A damn tease in every situation, he wanted to say, but before he had a chance to chide you, you pulled him in for another deep kiss. Joel decided you’re off the hook this time.

“Exactly, darlin’. Now hold onto my arm, we’re gonna see if you can stand, and then we’re goin’ back to Ellie.”

A hiss and a grunt of pain escaped you when he attempted to pull you to your feet, but you gritted your teeth and shook your head quickly when he froze, worry evident on his face. Turned out you could stand on your own and even slowly limp forward, but clearly had to push through intense pain to do so. Joel offered you his shoulder (against which his tired body protested immediately) but it made walking easier for you, so he sucked it up.

“I got you,” he whispered when he helped you up the stairs, keeping an arm around your waist for support. You whimpered every time you had to climb up a step, and Joel took hold of your hand, brushing his thumb over your skin lovingly. “That’s a good girl. Just a couple more.”

You didn’t let go of his hand even after these ‘couple more’ steps.

He kept his hand on your shoulder when you finally got reunited with Ellie and tears of relief spilled out of your eyes.

You tangled your fingers with his when the three of you were leaving this cursed, cruel place.

You all held each other when Ellie broke down and you both hugged her tightly, trying to make her feel safe again.

He hooked his little finger over yours, not wanting to drag you down when he started to lean on you, getting significantly weaker from how far he traveled and how hard he fought in the state he was in.

You grasped his hand again that night when you laid down next to him in his sleeping bag while Ellie was curled close to the two of you on Joel’s other side.

He didn’t let go when he leaned in to kiss you again, keeping his touch soft and gentle, and pulled you as close as he could, murmuring words of love and sweet promises into your hair.

Both of you knew you had a lot to talk about in the upcoming days – and probably even weeks. All three of you needed time to heal, physically as well as mentally.

But just for this moment, Joel couldn’t be happier and more relieved as it was slowly dawning on him that after this horrible, hellish nightmare, he had both of you right next to him, breathing and alive, and not chased by anyone for now. Two persons he loved in very different ways, but who were his entire world, whether he was ready to admit it or not.

As if reading his thoughts, you shifted slightly and kissed the edge of his jaw sleepily. His eyes closed, hiding the wetness in them.

He really couldn’t believe his luck.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #the last of us #tlou hbo #joel miller #ellie williams #the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #5+1 things #joel tlou #it took me SO LONG OMG #beary writes

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inthedayswhenlandswerefew · 9 months

Text

When The World Is Crashing Down [Chapter 2: Choose Love Or Sympathy]

Series summary: Your family is House Celtigar, one of Rhaenyra's wealthiest allies. In the aftermath of Rook's Rest, Aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother's life. Now you are in the liar of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting...

Chapter warnings: Language, warfare, extreme babygirl energy, violence, serious injury, Larys Strong, alcoholism/addiction, references to sexual content (18+), Crab Family lore.

Series title is a lyric from: "7 Minutes in Heaven" by Fall Out Boy.

Chapter title is a lyric from: "XO" by Fall Out Boy.

Word count: 5.5k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Let me know if you'd like to be tagged! 🥰💜

A moment of clarity, something he’s having more of lately: eyes glassy but open, voice husky, words slow. His vast bedchamber in the Red Keep always smells like honey and rose oil and the brackish golden air that blows in off the ocean. Sounds float weightlessly through the open windows like feathers on waves, music and shouts and creaking wagon wheels, gull cries and sails cracking in the wind. Late-morning daylight is an aisle across the stone floor, a river, a channel. Aegon’s bed has been moved away from the windows; when his wounds are uncovered, direct sunlight can ravage him in minutes, fresh blisters, thickening scars.

Aegon winces as you sit behind him and knead warm rose oil into his back and shoulders. His flesh is a grisly mosaic: pink and crimson and white, knots of burgeoning scar tissue, spots that are still raw and weeping. “It itches like hell, does that mean it’s infected?”

“That means it’s healing. Do you want more?” You mean the goblet of pearlescent milk of the poppy on his bedside table. It’s always there, and refilled frequently.

Aegon shakes his head, groggy, slumped, white-blond hair loose and disheveled. “I should probably be sentient on occasion. You haven’t been helping me piss into chamber pots or anything, have you?”

You smile. “No. You’ve got servants for that.” Although they report their findings to you; Maester Arthur of Claw Isle once taught you that organ failure is a common cause of death for burn victims, even if they survive the risks of shock and festering. All appears well enough on the outside, and then they start pissing blood or their skin goes yellow as their innards lose their secretive divine cadence, that vital rhythm, and then the poor soul is gone within days.

“Thank the gods,” Aegon says. “A speck of dignity remains. It’s tragic enough that I now closely resemble an overcooked meat pie.”

You chuckle as you massage rose oil into his wounds, keeping the scars moist and supple so they do not split open when he moves, so his joints are not locked in place. He will need them when he is out of bed again. He will need them if he truly is the king. “I don’t think you look that bad.”

“Because you’re used to sifting through guts and corpses all day. I’m an improvement. I’m only half dead.” And just weeks ago, he was pleading to be all the way dead. He glances back at you, brow knitted into thoughtful furrows; you can see it between the messy locks of hair that shag over his face. “What made you want to study something like this? It’s gruesome. It’s miserable, thankless work.”

“I was never good at anything,” you tell him. “My sisters were, but I wasn’t. I couldn’t dance, couldn’t sing, couldn’t embroider patterns unless they were humiliatingly simple, and even then I loathed it. My father grew so desperate he encouraged me to try archery with my brothers. I accidentally put an arrow in the foot of a squire and that was the end of my bowwoman career.”

Aegon laughs, then groans at the pain it causes him. He turns around so he can look at you, clumsily repositioning himself on the feather mattress, propping himself up on his palms. He squints down at his left hand where his ring should be: gold wings, jade eyes. You will have to remind Aemond to give it back to him. “I was never good at anything either.”

You can’t imagine that to be true, and yet it’s what you’ve always been told, that he was gifted at drinking and whoring and nothing else. You cannot reconcile those stories with the man in front of you. You keep trying, keep failing. You slather your palms in rose oil again the then begin massaging it into his chest. Aegon watches you with muzzy, drugged interest, eyes like cold ocean currents. “Then, five years ago, my brother…” You hesitate. A real name, an imagined one? You decide there is no harm in this small truth. Aegon will not remember the name of a younger son of a Crownlands house; he barely recalls the men of his own Kingsguard, who now spend their days trotting around the castle after Aemond. “My brother Everett was burned very badly, just like you were, although his wounds were mostly to his legs. And we all thought he would die. People advised us to show mercy by giving him enough milk of the poppy to kill him. They said it would be a sin to let him suffer so terribly. Yet our maester believed he could save him. My father and eldest brother had other responsibilities to attend to, and my mother and sisters could not bear the sight of Everett’s injuries. But I watched the way the maester worked on him, and I just…I thought it was the most captivating, beautiful thing I’d ever seen. The way a body can be taken apart or put back together like stones in a wall. Place one here, remove one there, and then like magic you’ve changed the course of someone’s life. Our maester taught me how to clean burns and change bandages, and when Everett was well again, he taught me about broken bones, fevers, childbirth, wolf bites, dry drowning. I read every book on the subject of healing in my father’s library. He kept having to order me more from the Citadel. I think I would have liked to be a maester myself, but…”

Aegon grins. “You have to go marry your mystery nobleman.”

“And women can’t be maesters.”

“They made me king of the Seven Kingdoms but you can’t be a maester? Fucking ridiculous.” He studies you as your fingers—tenderly, carefully—press rose oil into the red scar that creeps up over his right cheek. “Why won’t you tell me who he is?”

He means your betrothed. Aegon keeps asking about him in his moments of lucidity. You quip: “I don’t want you to have him murdered.”

“That would solve your problem.”

“I preserve life, I don’t take it.”

“I’ve noticed,” Aegon says with a soft, tired smile. Very slowly, he reaches up with one hand to pat at his silvery hair. “Can you give me my braid back? It seems to have been washed out again.”

“Of course.”

“Why did you start doing that?”

What is the truth? Something you can’t tell Aegon. No matter how often I touch him, I want more. “It’s a war braid. You’re a warrior. You’ve earned it.”

“So I am good at something after all,” he murmurs. You rebandage Aegon’s wounds and help him lie back down again. You give him a sip of milk of the poppy, which by now is badly needed; Aegon’s face is sweated and pale and agonized. Then you clean the rose oil from your hands and begin weaving a small braid into his hair. He gazes vacantly towards the open window, bright warm light he cannot walk into. “I assume Aemond is…handling things.”

“Yes, he’s…” How will Aegon take this? Is it a relief, or a slight? There was a great ceremony. You did not attend; you were here tending to the Greens’ broken king. It’s where you spend most of your time. “He’s been made Prince Regent and Protector of the Realm.”

Aegon nods, his expression unreadable. “How’s Sunfyre?”

“Still at Rook’s Rest and gaining strength. He was climbing the cliffs as of a few days ago. But I’ll ask Aemond when I see him today.”

Now Aegon smiles again. “Sunfyre is fierce. He is extraordinary.”

“You both are,” you say as you fashion his silver braid; and Aegon stares as if he couldn’t have heard you correctly.

Her steps are so light that at first you aren’t aware she’s entered the room. You see her out of the corner of your eye and immediately stand, moving away from the bed, from Aegon. You feel strange touching him this way—unnecessarily, self-indulgently, greedily—in her presence. She is his wife, after all.

“Your Grace,” you greet Helaena, bowing. She does not look at you. She looks vaguely in Aegon’s direction instead. She is wearing a turquoise blue dress and her long hair pulled back from her face. The servants have dressed her, or Alicent; she cannot do it herself anymore. In her hands she holds a large glass jar of sticks and leaves.

“Hello, Helaena,” Aegon says, more like a sigh than a welcome.

She scurries towards him and sets the jar down on his bedside table with a clunk, right next to the goblet of milk of the poppy and a number of other drinks, things you ply Aegon with to keep him hydrated. Then Helaena speaks, her eyes on the contents of the jar. There is something else in there, you see now: a fat wriggling green creature, a caterpillar inching along the length of an upright stick. "For you."

“It’s very nice,” Aegon tells her, in a tone like a parent losing patience with their child.

“It takes nourishment and then rests,” Helaena says. “It is wrapped in a cocoon and stays there for a long while. But when it emerges, it is not just well again. It is greater than it was before. And it can fly.”

“Oh, I understand now.” Aegon makes no attempt to touch her—not even her hand, not even for a moment—but his words are kinder. “I am the worm. Thank you, Helaena. This comforts me.”

She is satisfied. She turns to leave.

“Your Grace,” you begin, and hold out your hands to her. She does not take them. She does not meet your eyes; she stares instead into the golden luminescence of the open window behind you. You can hear crashing waves and the screeches of swooping gulls. “I wanted to express…I cannot even begin to tell you…I am so, so sorry for your suffering—”

She spins away from you and sweeps out of the bedchamber. You are left looking at the empty place where she stood, heartsick and sorry. What did I do wrong? What should I have said?

Aegon offers you an apologetic smirk, but his eyes are sad. “It’s not personal. She doesn’t really like touching anybody.” This is an irony, and one that must read on your face. A king and queen—by definition, by necessity—do an inordinate amount of touching. He invades, she endures, they knit heirs together out of threads of blood and sweat. “What we have between us, it’s not…romantic. It never was.”

This is not something he should be telling you. It is not a jest but a spilling of deep, sacred truths. “I didn’t ask.”

“No. But you were wondering.”

You were. You return to the bed and sit down beside Aegon, finishing his braid. You choose your words precisely before you speak. “I don’t believe I have a right to know certain things, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about what you’re thinking.”

“Then let me unburden myself so there is no confusion,” Aegon insists, drowsy but fighting sleep. “There was no joy in it for me or Helaena. I tried to make it as quick and painless as I could, but still, her disdain for the task was obvious. It happened just often enough to conceive the children. And we haven’t even tried in months, not since…” He doesn’t need to say it. Everyone knows, Greens and Blacks alike. A son for a son. The murder of Jaehaerys, six years old and utterly powerless, in exchange for Aemond slaying Luke.

Do you think such a thing was just? No, of course not, how could anyone? Very few things that happen in this world are just. They come with passionate defenses but no mercy, no vision for a less violent future. The wheel goes around and around, and everyone takes their turn being crushed. “Aegon, I’m so sorry,” you tell him softly.

He shakes his head. He will not discuss it. Aegon’s remaining children, Jaehaera and Maelor, do not ask about him; on the rare occasion that Alicent brings them to his bedchamber, they do not seem to know who he is. In fairness, Aegon does not seem to know them either; he regards them with a dull sort of bewilderment, like one might peer down at a page written in a foreign language. In the hallways of the Red Keep, the children clutch at Alicent and Otto, and sometimes Aemond will take a few minutes to play with them, stacking wooden blocks or arranging cloth dolls in a miniature castle. But if ‘mother’ and ‘father’ are words the children know, you’ve never heard them spoken aloud. “Can I have some wine, please?”

“Did you finish your goat milk?”

“Resentfully.”

“Then yes. I’ll get it for you.” You pour Aegon a cup of red wine and then tilt it against his lips. He slurps the cup dry before his eyes dip closed. You set the empty cup on the bedside table, feel his forehead for fever—longer than you need to—and then rise to leave him. You are almost to the door when you hear him say: “Thank you for changing my mind.”

You turn back to Aegon, puzzled. “About what?”

“About wanting to be dead.” He grins and waves, a weak miniscule motion of his left hand. “Come back soon, angel.”

“I will,” you promise.

And only then does he surrender to blessedly numb unconsciousness, the only place in the world that doesn’t hurt.

~~~~~~~~~~

You find Aemond in his own rooms. He is sitting in front of the large circular mirror on his vanity. His hair is long and straight and painstakingly neat, his tunic made of black leather. He is wearing the crown of Aegon the Conqueror. Rubies fracture the sunlight and scatter it against the walls; Valyrian steel glints.

Aemond marvels, knowing that you’re here: “It looks better on me than it ever did on him.”

“I need more rose oil.”

In the mirror’s reflection, his lone blue eye darts to you. “You always ask so politely.”

“I didn’t want to waste your valuable time. I can be more loquacious, if you prefer.”

“That won’t be necessary.” He stands, taking off the crown and placing it—gingerly, with both hands—on his vanity. “I’ll see that you have everything you require.”

“I am eternally appreciative.”

Then he does something that he thinks is amusing, a little joke you share. He grabs for your arm and you yank it away just before his fingers can close around your wrist. This makes him smile; it’s one of the only things that does. “Now follow me,” he orders, striding past you and through the doorway.

You hurry after Aemond, dashing through corridors and archways. You know where he is going; this has happened before. As you ascend a staircase, Alicent is leading Jaehaera and Maelor down to the gardens. She has one tiny hand gripped in each of hers; the hem of her emerald green dress drags on the stone steps. She keeps losing weight. You stop to scoop Maelor up and hug him—he giggles, squeezing at your cheeks as you smack kisses onto his face—and then turn your attention to Jaehaera. She has just learned the rules of curtsying and loves to practice. You bow to her, and then she does the same to you, and while her head is bent low you ruffle her silvery hair until it is in hopeless disarray and Jaehaera is laughing hysterically. Then you kneel down so she can sabotage your hair however she sees fit. She pulls strands out of your sensible low bun until you give up and shake it all loose. Alicent—large dark eyes, demurely veiled auburn hair, somber and suffering—gives you a grave, grateful smile. Aemond has waited at the apex of the stairs for you. When you rejoin him he continues onward to the council chamber.

Inside men are taking their seats and already beginning to quarrel: Criston Cole, Otto Hightower, Grand Maester Orwyle, Tyland Lannister, Jasper Wylde, Larys Strong, the knights of the Kingsguard. Sir Rickard Thorne pays no attention to you. Aemond once mentioned off-handedly: ‘Sir Rickard, I believe our healer is a distant relation of yours.’ The knight had glanced at you and produced some noncommittal reply, oh, indeed, sure, is that so. You had met before, you realized when you saw his face, years ago, at some event that brought together the houses of the Crownlands, a wedding or a funeral or a feast. He has a hazy recollection of you, but he cannot pin it down; he spent the evening with boisterous young men like your eldest brother Clement, while you had spent it with other noblewomen. Sir Rickard’s mother or sisters could probably identify you as a Celtigar. To Rickard himself, you can masquerade as some unimportant cousin he is ashamed to have forgotten. You assume your usual place in the council chamber: standing in a corner, trying not to be noticed, only there in case specific questions involving Aegon’s medical treatment arise.

“Is he dying?” Otto asks Aemond. “He must be. He has no interest in whores.”

Aemond raises his eyebrow at you. “Actually, I’ve been informed he is improving.”

Maester Orwyle beams at you. Upon your arrival in King’s Landing, he had confirmed to Aemond and Criston what you already knew: that while the Citadel’s guidance several decades ago was indeed pork lard or cow dung to treat burns, now there is a growing consensus that vinegar, honey, and oil for scar tissue are the best available remedies. You nod back. You are natural allies; the Greens’ king is under your joint care. You both have much to lose if he dies.

Now Otto Hightower addresses you. He is a stern, weathered, shrewd man. He reminds you of your father, though far more humorless. “When will he be able to fight again?”

“Fight?” you echo, stunned. “In battle? Months at least, my lord. Perhaps a year.”

“A year!” Otto bellows, then turns his wrath on Criston and Aemond. “I told you, I told you! I urged him to exercise caution, over and over again I warned him of the danger, and while I was penning letters to every possible ally you were pouring poison into his ears, convincing him that I wasn’t doing enough. Now look at him! Look at this goddamn fucking mess!”

“How fares the dragon?” Tyland Lannister says.

“I received a raven from Rook’s Rest today,” Aemond replies. “Sunfyre is eating well and ambulatory.”

“Useless,” Otto hisses. “Can’t fly. Can’t be moved. A waste of the livestock he’s being fed.”

“We may yet find a purpose for him,” Aemond says.

“Two dragons!” Otto explodes. “Can you count them?! We have two dragons capable of combat, and one of them is ridden by a fifteen-year-old. The Blacks still have Syrax, Caraxes, Vermax, Tyraxes, and Moondancer. And gods help us if they find someone to ride any of the other unclaimed beasts on Dragonstone. Seasmoke, Vermithor, Silverwing, Grey Ghost, the Cannibal…”

“I hope they try to tame the Cannibal,” Criston mutters. “If we’re lucky, he’ll eat them all.”

“My lord,” Larys Strong says to Otto, clutching his cane; he has a habit of lacing his fingers overtop the handle and resting his chin on them. Larys is a watchful, quiet man who speaks rarely yet with great consequence. He is the Master of Whisperers, he is the Lord of Harrenhal, and aside from that he is an enigma to you. “I hate to be the bearer of unfortunate tidings, however I must speak plainly. I have just obtained reports that the Blacks are pursuing precisely the course of action that you fear. Jacaerys Velaryon is offering land and knighthood to any man who can mount a dragon and join their cause. The realm is littered with Targaryen bastards, I’m certain it is only a matter of time until they find at least a few candidates suited to the task.”

Otto slams his fist down on the table. You startle at the noise; Aemond glances over at you. “No king. No Sunfyre. Dreamfyre in the Dragonpit, who Helaena cannot fly into battle. A fucking disaster.”

“We have Vhagar,” Aemond says confidently.

“She is worth two full-grown dragons,” Otto pitches back. “Not four or five.”

“Daemon is the real threat. If I can eliminate him, the war is over.”

“Daeron should be prepared for combat,” Jasper Wylde says. “He is travelling with Lord Ormund Hightower’s army in the Reach, but he can easily be called back to King’s Landing. He could assist Prince Aemond in his pursuit of Daemon and Caraxes.”

“I don’t need his help,” Aemond replies darkly.

“Then perhaps he could safeguard the city once you’ve gone.”

“We cannot sacrifice military strategy on the altar of personal vendettas,” Criston says. “Dragons are best used on the battlefield against soldiers and castles, not on meandering quests to find one lone enemy, that’s a needle in a haystack, it’s a misallocation of precious resources.”

Aemond counters: “But if I can kill Daemon, nothing else matters—”

“It does matter, Aemond!” Criston roars. “I matter, the armies matter, winning the confidence of the houses you hope to rule matters!”

“How is Corlys Velaryon handling all of this?” Otto asks Larys. “The defeat at Rook’s Rest, the death of his wife?”

Larys answers: “He blames Rhaenyra for the losses. He has taken it badly. It is my understanding that he intended to withdraw his support from the Blacks, and was brought back only by Jacaerys giving him the title of Hand of the Queen. I am under the impression that Corlys may be willing to reconsider his allegiance if the circumstances were right—”

There is a knock at the council chamber door, not a knock but a pounding, not a pounding but a frantic drumming like the marching of soldiers’ boots. Sir Criston Cole unlocks and opens the door. Alicent stands there with her face flushed and shiny with tears. Instantly, Criston is at her side asking what is wrong, one hand resting protectively her shoulder, the other on the hilt of the sword he wears everywhere he goes.

“Come quickly,” Alicent begs you, only you. “Please. It’s Aegon.”

You race with her to Aegon’s bedchamber, hearing the screams long before you reach him. This doesn’t make sense; he shouldn’t be in pain this severe, not yet, not for hours. You are aware that there are footsteps thundering behind you, Aemond and Criston rushing to see if the king really is dying this time. In his bed, Aegon thrashes and moans. He needs to stop moving so violently; he will split his scar tissue like burst seams. Already you can see blooms of crimson appearing on his bandages where the wounds beneath have reopened: his neck, his waist, his ribcage. He is out of his mind. He is destroying himself.

He is shouting for Sunfyre, for Aemond, for Criston. He is back at Rook’s Rest being roasted alive in his own armor. Not dying, then; just having a nightmare. You kneel at his bedside and smooth his hair back, his braid threading through your fingers, and whisper to him that it’s alright, that he’s safe, that he needs to wake up now. Alicent is weeping, both hands covering her mouth. Aemond and Criston are watching you, mesmerized, transfixed.

Aegon’s oceanic eyes fly open, wide and panicked. “Where am I?”

And you smile down at him, your palm cradling his unburned left cheek. “The end of the world.”

He blinks. He remembers. His lips stretch into a grin. “There you are,” he tells you, voice gravelly and low. “I dreamed everyone was gone and you were too.”

“I’m here.”

“You aren’t in a hurry to abandon me for your burly betrothed?”

Cregan Stark must think I’m dead. “No, Aegon.”

“You can’t leave without telling me.”

Everett, Clement, my father, my mother, Piper, Petra, Penelope, they must all think I was burned to ash on the battlefield or murdered and tossed into the sea. “I know. I won’t.”

“You can’t leave,” he says again, a half-awake whimper as he sinks back into unconsciousness. You give him more milk of the poppy, enough to make his sleep deep and black and dreamless.

You reclean and rebandage Aegon’s wounds. It takes hours. Aemond fetches Maester Orwyle to assist you. Criston comforts Alicent, wanting to do and say far more than he can. When it is done, only Alicent remains in the bedchamber with you. She visits Aegon frequently, but she does not know how to speak to him; she always stands there clasping her own hands together, praying and stalling, desperate to show him love and yet incapable of it.

“Thank you for what you’ve done for him,” Alicent says, tears glistening in her umber eyes. “Not just the hours, not just the medicine. For everything that you’ve done.” And she embraces you, and when she does you hold her like she wishes her own daughter could.

~~~~~~~~~~

In the night you see it repeating like a chorus of a song in the shadows that crawl across the ceiling: one year ago, stray snowflakes in your hair, stars in a black sky and air like metal.

The Celtigar fortune is older than the Targaryens’ conquering of Westeros, older than the Doom of Valyria. Where did the money come from? Friends of the Celtigars would say distinctively cunning maritime trade; their enemies would say piracy. Perhaps the two are not always so different. Is there any mechanism of accumulating great wealth that does not involve stealing in one form or another, of wringing out some other soul like a wet cloth until every drop of them disappears down your throat? Your ancestors did not tame dragons, but they had a different sort of gift: for every coin, they could find a way to make two or six or ten. Repeat that process for centuries and there are vaults filled to the ceiling with gold coins like pieces of the midday sun.

When Daenys the Dreamer had a vision of the Doom over a decade before it left Valyria a smoldering, fragmented wasteland haunted by demons and plague, only three Valyrian houses heeded the warning. Her own family, the Targaryens, relocated to Dragonstone. The Velaryons, having already long occupied Driftmark, resolved to stay there. And the Celtigars—merchants to some, pirates to others—crossed the Narrow Sea to settled on Claw Isle.

Crispian Celtigar served as Master of Coin to Aegon the Conqueror. Alton Celtigar was his Hand of the King. Edwell Celtigar was chosen to be Hand of the King to Maegor I, and later Master of Coin to Jaehaerys I during his minority. The Celtigars have never been far from the Iron Throne…though perhaps none were ever as close as you are now.

One year ago, your father embarked upon a trade mission to White Harbor. Never a man to squander an opportunity for new business, he added stops in Oldcastle, Cerwyn, and Winterfell, and brought along his four maiden daughters to stoke the desires of Northerner lords. Piper fancied a son of Lord Manderly, Petra caught the attention of a Cerwyn boy. But no offer was advantageous enough for Bartimos Celtigar’s liking; no deal could be struck.

In Winterfell, Lord Cregan Stark was already married. His wife, a childhood friend before she was a bedmate, trudged around the castle heavily pregnant and dragging layer upon layer of furs to guard her against the cold, often biting even in summer. Lord Cregan took little notice of your giggling, gossiping sisters, and even less of you…until his sparring partner broke his arm in the castle courtyard. As the other women fled with nauseated faces back to their needlework, you asked Winterfell’s maester if you could watch how he set the fracture and managed the man’s pain. The maester was delighted—Northerners, as a rule, lack intellectual curiosity—and even allowed you to help bandage the wound once the split bone had been popped back into place. And it was only then, as you knelt there with your forehead creased with determination and blood coating your hands to the knuckles, that Lord Cregan Stark began to see you.

You have a fear of marriage, not a general aversion but a specific and powerful dread. When you were fourteen, you asked your mother if she enjoyed lying with her husband, and you had known as soon as she spoke with a careful sort of reticence—‘I enjoy feeling close to him, I suppose’—that the answer was no. When you were sixteen and your cousin Theodora married into House Bar Emmon, you went with the other noblewomen to inspect her bedsheets the next morning, and were horrified by how they chuckled at the large rust-like stain and recalled their own initiations into sex, this unavoidable rite of passage, this ultimate surrender. At breakfast, the men toasted wine and hooted and sang, while Theodora stared down with glazed eyes at her untouched bacon and duck eggs and said when Piper asked how the night went: ‘He wanted me three times. Is there anything I can do to make him stop?’ And you had thought: Aren’t unions like this supposed to be holy? What the hell do the gods have to do with it? Are they in the sweat, in the bleak resignation, in the linen of the sheets? Do they fill the man with blind lust like an animal’s, do they help hold the woman down?

Your eyes close as you lie in bed in the Red Keep, your room adjoining Aegon’s, and suddenly you are back in Winterfell again. You are making notes as the maester shows you the herbs growing in the Glass Gardens when Cregan finds you. He is tall and broad, made more so by the furs that engulf him like mist drapes the stony cliffs of Claw Isle. His voice is booming, thunderous, cataclysmically formidable. He is used to being listened to. He has never been expected to sit quietly as other men charted out his life like the route of a trade ship: here you will go, here you will be emptied of every scrap of value. He says he will give you a tour of the Library Tower. It is not an invitation; an invitation can be declined.

You walk together through the Godswood—dark water, blackberry bushes, crows squawking, gods you do not believe in—and Cregan tells you fond memories of his childhood. He likes hunting and archery. He spars in the courtyard for hours each day. He never stays still, he never goes quiet. He wants to know where you learned to marvel at the ghastly art of piecing broken bodies back together again. He wants to know why you are so different from other women. And he inquires with great fascination about the legendary treasures of your house, not just gold but rubies, jeweled cups, Myrish carpets and Volantene glass, a horn said to summon krakens from the sea, an axe made of Valyrian steel.

Winterfell’s library is sparse and dusty, cobwebs in shadowy alcoves. Cregan Stark thinks you will not notice. As he slips books about anatomy and herbology off the shelves to show you, you cannot help studying his hands, large and calloused and always stained with black patches of ink or soil or soot. They make yours look tiny and defenseless, skin of silk and bones like glass. You picture him claiming you, owning you, climbing into the marital bed knowing that you cannot refuse anything he asks for. You envision him forcing your thighs apart with those huge filthy hands, leaving smudges like ash. You imagine him tearing his way into a part of you that feels so small, so vulnerable; you imagine the suffocating burden of his interminable weight.

A moment of clarity, in the library beathing dust and Cregan’s scent, a woodsmoke musk, a wolflike wildness: I don’t know this man. I don’t trust this man. I’m glad he’s not free to marry me.

This was before the war began, before Cregan’s wife Arra Norrey died birthing their son Rickon, before Jace Velaryon arrived in Winterfell to forge the Pact of Ice and Fire. And when Cregan agreed to support Rhaenyra’s claim to the Iron Throne, and Jace pledged to marry his firstborn daughter to Rickon, the Warden of the North decided there was one last thing he wanted inked into the covenant. He wanted an ally in the South, bottomless wealth, his future children to have Valyrian ancestry. He wanted a woman with vigilant, unflinching eyes and blood on her hands.

He wanted you.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon ii #aegon targaryen ii #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen x you #aegon x reader #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #hotd fanfic

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delreykenn-punk · 1 year

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it's you, it's all for you

(joel miller x fem!reader)

warnings: angst, angst, angst, Joel is emotionally damaged, age agap (reader is in his early 30s, Joel is canonical age; 56), jackson!era, mentions of sex, swearing, Joel is an asshole summary: Idk, joel and you are kind of friends with benefits but you want more, that´s it words: 1.5k

You had a kind of relationship with Joel since the QZ in Boston, a kind of agreement in wich only fucked “without feelings”, you two didn't go beyond that because he didn't want to and didn't feel safe to take that step, which you respected. You knew he had a daughter named Sarah, you found out during a night where he couldn't sleep and he whispered between dreams her name crying and asking for forgiveness, you never ask about it because you respected his privacy and you didn't want him to push you away.

But then Ellie and the fireflies happened; lost Tess, Bill, Frank, Sam and Henry, you two went through many things together, wich made you felt like you were something much more than just friends with benefits, he opened up to you and Ellie, finally he talked about his babygirl and his suicide attempt, you saw him in his most vulnerable moments and you hugged and held him when you knew he needed it most.

You loved Joel, you had no doubt about that, you realized that you loved him that time the group of cannibals attacked you three and he was hurt, you had not felt so much fear in your life until he almost died for the infection. You didn't tell him, but while he was almost unconscious and dying and you were about to go out to find something to fight his infection he took your arm and whispered "please stay with me my love, I love you" after that he fell asleep again, leaving you perplexed at his words, you had many questions going through your head, too many doubts and mixed feelings, you didn't have the heart to leave him, so Ellie went to get the supplies.

You were afraid that he would not remember what he told you, you hoped to be able to talk once they got something to make him get better, but everything went to hell when they took Ellie and David happened, he had mentally screwed the girl, wich made you forgot your situation with Joel and prioritized Ellie before you. Then the fireflies happened, Joel and you rescued Ellie and fled back to Jackson and settled back in the commune, you could finally enjoy some peace after everything they had been through and you liked to believe that the three of them were a family.

It had been months since they returned to Jackson, things with Joel were still the same, he never mentioned what he told you that time when he was dying, and you did not touch the subject no matter how much you died of wanting to do it. With that came your breaking point, you couldn't stand it anymore, you needed to talk to Joel, you needed to know where all this was going, you wanted everything with him, with it his flaws, you already knew about his daughter Sarah, you practically knew everything about him and you wanted more.

You were in the kitchen of the house you shared with Ellie and Joel and you were so sunk in your thoughts that you didn't hear it coming. "Hey, did you hear me?" you came out of your trance and were startled when you saw Joel sitting at the table in front of you. "Oh, sorry I didn't hear you come Joel, what's wrong?" you left the cup of tea you had in your hands on the kitchen counter, noticing that you hadn't taken a sip, you were gone for quite a while.

You sat next to him at the small table. "I was telling you that if you were okay, I arrived and I saw you standing there doing nothing, you were very disconnected from the world honey" he laughed softly, "Are you okay baby?" he placed his hand gently on top of yours.

You looked down, suddenly feeling too shy and embarrassed to say something, "I... yes this- no, I actually want to talk to you Joel, i-it's about something I've wanted to tell you for a long time," out of the corner of your eye you saw how he got serious and nodded, giving you permission to speak.

You got nervous, you had already planned what and how you were going to tell him everything, but Joel had you so bad that nothing came out of your mouth, the man had that imposing power over you, plus there was the fact that you would not know what his reaction would be. You took a long, deep breath before blurting out "What are we Joel?, Where is all this going?" you finally looked up and watched as his jaw tensed, instantly regretted saying that when he abruptly removed his hand from yours "What are you talking about?" he raised an eyebrow in your direction.

"You know, we've been together since before Jackson and-" he interrupted you "No, you knew very well where I stood on this and you agreed with me," he got up from his chair in frustration, running a hand through his hair. Before he could speak you interrupted him "No Joel, please, this place is our chance to be happy and be a family, I know you're afraid to love me and it's okay to have it, but we're fine, we're safe, I lov-" you shuddered when he turned to you and shouted "NO, I can't do this okay? I can't, I don't know what made you think we could be the happy family you lost, we're not them and we never will be, in this fucked up world things are no longer handled like that, for god´s sake, stop living in a bubble and stop getting excited, I don't feel those cheesiness for you, I don't love you" he snapped angrily while staring at you.

Your eyes began to fill with tears, you could not believe what he was telling you, you felt as if you had been stabbed in the back, no, this was a thousand times worse, he knew how you felt about your family, you always hoped to have one again, to be able to be happy and start from scratch, you thought you had found it with Joel and a small part of you liked to think that he also felt that for you but at the same time It seems things were not like that. "Fuck you, how dare you tell me that!" you sobbed so loudly, you were holding back a lot of crying that you started to feel short of breath "I've given you everything of myself, I've let you fuck me however you want, I've been your shoulder to cry, I hug you when you have nightmares and you can't sleep, I never asked you about your daughter because I wanted you to tell me when you felt ready and seriously you have the impudence to say that it made me think we could be a family?" you laughed without being able to believe it, I was hurting you too much.

He looked away from you, you cried and sobbed until you calmed down a little and continued talking "You say that you do not feel those cheesiness and that you do not love me but the time you were hurt and you were about to die you told me not to leave your side and that you loved me" and there it was, you let go, and you never thought it felt so liberating to do it "Explain it Joel, look me in the eyes and explain that shit!" you screamed and shed tears of fury as you approached and came face to face with him.

Finally he looked at you, you watched how his gaze seemed to relax and you swore that you could appreciate softness in his eyes, his hands closed into fists, it was as if he was struggling with himself to say something, for a moment you thought he would apologize to you, ask for forgiveness and finally stop lying to himself, you frowned when you heard him a low laugh and his countenance changed to one of mockery "I hate to tell you baby, but when you're under the influence of an infection you can say any nonsense, I don't even remember saying that for god's sake, maybe you imagined it, so stop begging for something that never gonna happened." You had enough, you were not going to continue humiliating yourself for him, if he did not want this well "Okay Joel" you wiped your tears "you are right I imagined it, I was the deluded one who believed you were a better man, a good one, I idealized you a lot and I am very sorry to have seen things where they had not" you did not know or why you apologized, you just wanted to end this discussion and go away from it.

You headed towards the exit without looking back, leaving Joel speechless still standing on the kitchen island, if he was sorry you didn't care anymore, not even taking some of your belongings, you didn't want to just go on there, what once felt like home at that moment stopped feeling that way.

A/N: ok, so this is my first fic, I apologize if there is any kind of grammatical error, English is not my first language, I promise to improve :) This has a second part, I've been working on it for a month lol, it will come eventually, I just don't know when, but it will.

reblogs, comments and likes are welcome :)

#pedro pascal #joel miller x reader #joel miller #the last of us #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller angst #joel miller fanfiction #tlou #tlou hbo #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller hbo #pedro pascal x reader #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou

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wayfayrr · 25 days

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SELF AWARE ASEXUAL SKY MY ABSOLUTE BELOVED <3 Maybe I’m projecting, my ex boyfriend was asexual and he was the sweetest gold retriever that loved kisses (specifically slow make outs while we were in bed together) and cuddles, he especially loved it when I ran my fingers through his hair, and we broke things off in a good way and we are still like, best friends, so the thought of having such a wholesome relationship like that?? But with S k y??? Hit the jackpot in a boyfriend fr. We can cuddle in bed together, watching movies and playing games <3

Sure, maybe I would panic at the whole ‘oh shit, Link is actually sentient’ but I feel like I would panic more at the tv breaking, cause like, in this economy?? But even more than that, Link has always been a childhood crush of mine- but there’s something about the first time I played Skyward Sword that had me blushing, giggling, and kicking my feet like a schoolgirl <3 so the thought of having *Sky* in my arms?? Being able to cuddle him??? KISS HIM???? I’m demanding him to get out of the game and helping the babygirl through the tv myself so I can hold him and give him kissies <333

~🍀 anon

I think the funniest thing is (as shown by wars) there was a way for him to get out without breaking the screen but he just chose not to sfsdfsvc or didn't think of it in his desperation, nor the fact that he would end up with a LOT of cuts and glass in those cuts after the fact :( - literally pure luck he didn't get an infection maybe he got so lucky since he had you to be his four leaf clover?

but after that? being able to hold you and cuddle you AND YOU WANT IT JUST AS MUCH? He's in literal heaven, soaking it up more than a sponge could ever hope to. With a headcanon I've been bouncing around a little bit too that he's never had to breathe properly or had a heartbeat in the game, there's just even more potential for domestic stuff. Resting his head on your chest, ear to your heart focusing on the rhythmic beat that just lulls him right to sleep, wanting to memorise it or even better when his own heart (hopefully) decides to start beating that it'll be in sync with your own. and teaching him how to breath by letting him rest his head on your chest in a similar way but this time so that he can inhale and exhale at the same rate as he's playing with your hand or your hair, twirling it between his fingers hoping that each individual strand will never be forgotten by his fingertips as you can press kisses to the top of his head - it'd be the most wholesome relationship you could ever hope for [if you ignore the yan part tbh] he's like a golden retriever fr

also I'm not sure about you but I think sky would adore older disney films, the little mermaid standing out the most for me (yes, yes it is because of part of your world more than anything) but I think he'd be happy to watch and play almost anything that you suggest, I mean even his own game isn't offlimits to him. which is how you end up with a second sky in your house sdvdfsvfdsv

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amyispxnk · 7 months

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Thinking about Joel from The Last of Us (what's new)

Thinking about how Joel was so young when he had Sarah

But he loved her with his entire heart

And he raised her by himself (Tommy probably helped a bit of course, but he can only do so much)

How much he worked and how much stress he was going through. Mans was on meds BEFORE the apocalypse.

Then how fast it all came crashing down for him and he lost his entire world in one night. She died begging for him to help and he couldn't do anything.

The guilt and grief must have been unimaginable. Losing a child is enough, but losing one like that?

And then I'm thinking about how much he changed.

We don't know everything about in-between Texas and Boston, but we know how terrifying he got.

And in Boston we saw it, he'd just kill and kill and it was honestly the same throughout the entirety of the first game. He was ruthless, looking for distraction and a way to get rid of his anger but obviously it was never enough.

After the hospital and return to Jackson, he obviously got softer.

Ellie was his second chance, and he knew that after what he did it was gonna go wrong eventually so he was treasuring her whilst he still could. He got to be a dad again and we saw how damn good he was at it, from conversations about Sarah to what we actually saw him doing with Ellie.

He tried really hard for her, even after she acted like she wanted nothing to do with him. Eg. Jackson Party flashback, Jesse tells Ellie how Joel keeps asking about her patrols and checking up on her without asking her because she doesn't want to talk to him. And then she yells at him in front of everyone for trying. I love Ellie, but that scene was so horrible and I actually felt like shit after it. The look on his face when he saw everyone watching him and judging him? I don't know how Ellie held it together.

And on that final flashback, the Porch Scene, he gets close to tears when she says she wants to try fix their relationship. Joel Miller, who we saw as a ruthless murderer who didn't like anyone in the first game, getting choked up because the Infected Girl, the One, Ellie, his babygirl, wanted to be his daughter again.

And they never got the chance to go back to normal and it breaks my heart.

Going through his house you could also see how he'd relaxed there, too. Woodcarving, playing gee-tar of course, rocking chair on the porch, books (space book with the glasses made me cry, he read it just for her even when they weren't talking. he really tried), the pictures of his two girls in his room and family around the house. And when I play that part all I can think about it how lonely he was. Imagine how much time he spent alone in that house or sitting outside on the porch. He must have felt so left out because everyone had somebody but he didn't anymore.

One thing that really made me sob was the picture of the dinner his family and Ellie and whatnot were at. The one where Tommy's there, Maria's there, Ellie's there.. and noone sits beside him. Because they're all with their somebodies and Ellie can't bear the sight of him. The look on their faces as they awkwardly avoid eye contact and everything is so sad.

Joel. Miller. Deserved. Better. Say it louder for the ones in the back

And no I'm not ready to watch this play out all over again in the HBO version.

#joel miller #joel miller tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #joel tlou #tlou hbo #tlou series #tlou2 #ellie williams #thankyouforreadingthisrant

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dylan-o-yumm · 1 year

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Little Moments - Leon S. Kennedy/reader

It has been a hot minute... I’m sorry I’m not making an amazing come back with DMC or Nero content, but hey at least it's still Capcom? Anyway, Leon is babygirl

Also read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/46338547

Words: 6.6k Summary: Leon rescued both you and Ashley from the events of RE4, now the thereof you are "relaxing" in a hotel, unwinding before Leon has to take you both home in the morning.

Part 1, Part 2

“I could sleep for a year.”

“Just a year? Rookie numbers.”

“Are you guys kidding me? I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep a wink after everything I’ve seen over the last few days.” Ashley wrapped her arms around herself and looked wearily around the cozy hotel room, as if a crazy, plaga-infected Spanish person was going to jump out from the shadows. You couldn’t blame her for being so on edge, you’d be the same if Leon wasn’t there with you.

Ashley was the president's daughter and you were… just someone who was in that damn village at the wrong damn time. Leon was a special agent of some sort, somebody the president sent to find his daughter— but Leon just so happened to find you first. He saved you. And then he saved you again. And again, and again. No matter what happened, you knew Leon would be there like a knight in shining armor.

He made you feel safe but, the poor guy looked like shit and needed to finally rest. He had done so much work, busted his ass for— fuck, was it really only a day? Two days? You can’t remember how long you were there, let alone how long Leon was there looking for Ashley — and by proxy, you as well.

“Ash, it’s fine. We’re out of the village now. And even if some of the Iluminados freaks managed to escape, well… you saw how they were after their lord and savior kicked the bucket.” You turned to face Leon, gesturing for a little reassurance to come from him. Hopefully hearing it come from Leon would calm Ashley’s nerves somewhat.

Leon blinked and his lips parted as if he hadn’t been listening to a single word that had been said since he commented on how you wanted to sleep for a year. However he snapped back to hero mode rather quickly, looking around the room while he stretched his back muscles.

“I’ll stay up and make sure you’re safe. My job isn’t done yet.”

You and Ashley both shared a look.

“I think out of all of us, you need sleep the most, Leon.” Ashley told him with a concerned look on her face and you nodded in agreement. You opened your mouth to add your insight but Leon raised his hand to stop you, already knowing that you were going to demand that he sleep before you knock him out with a frying pan.

“I dozed off a few times at the village, I’ll be fine.” He shrugged as if it really didn’t bother him but you could see the exhaustion all over his face and in his shoulders, his muscles. Hell he had an aura around him that beamed like a bright neon sign that made you tired just by looking at him.

“It’s just one night. I’ll take you both home tomorrow and then I can go home and sleep for as long as I want, how’s that sound?”

“Leon…” Ashley sighed but you beat her to the punch.

“I’m too tired to argue. Just, at least sit down or something. I’ll make you some coffee,” you sighed and rubbed your forehead where a sharp headache started to irritate you. You dealt with too many loud noises; explosions, gunshots, too many bright lights from flash grenades and fires from molotovs, and the screaming and yelling of the Illuminados or Ashley or yourself. Everything from that damn village and the island, up until the point of getting out of the ocean after a long, loud and bumpy ride on a jet ski, was all building up into one big headache.

Leon didn’t have anything else to say after that, opting to do as you said and taking a seat on the couch by the window. You moved to the small kitchen and started boiling water while Ashley said she was going to go have a shower.

The three of you were still pretty filthy. The ocean water washed some of the grime off, but the stench still lingered and you all had scrapes, cuts and bruises. Your body ached from all the running around and getting thrown about and whacked and hit and kicked by the crazy villagers. Leon took the brunt of it all though, which is why you were worried about him the most. He really needed to rest. For a week. Or in your words; a year.

You all did.

Once the coffee was made, you brought a mug out for Leon, pausing for a moment to watch as he yawned so intensely his eyes started watering. Though, when he noticed you looking at him, he quickly shut his mouth and rubbed his eyes, pretending he hadn’t just been fighting off the urge to sleep. He gave you a little half smile and went back to unwrapping the bandage from his arm to check one of his many wounds.

You could have teased him for yawning, you could have angrily told him to get some sleep. But you didn’t.

“Need any stitching up?” You asked as you placed his mug on the coffee table in front of him, holding a second mug in your hand and moving it to your lap as you sat down on the couch beside him. The heat from the mug warmed your hands and made you feel more at ease.

”No. I could do with a good massage though,” he replied with a small grunt, rolling his shoulder out and you got a good look at his bicep. There was a scratch from an ax being thrown at him that, thankfully, only just nicked him. A long, but thankfully, not deep gash from his battle against Saddler. And finally a large bruise that spanned from his shoulder down to his elbow in an odd splotchy pattern. You weren’t sure what that one was from but you could take at least a dozen guesses.

You weren’t sure if he was asking you to give him a massage or not— he sure did like his cheesy one-liners and little quips, maybe this was one of them?

“Get in line, buddy. I don’t think I’ll physically be able to get out of bed in the morning,” yeah, that was a good common ground to avoid any confusion and possible embarrassment.

“It will be tough, yeah…” you could tell he was speaking from experience. How many crazy missions like this had this poor man been through? “You handled yourself well out there. I want you to know that.”

He turned his gaze to your direction but he didn’t quite meet your eye. He sounded genuine though and it made your heart skip a beat.

“You mean by… running, hiding, screaming. Oh yeah I handled myself very well,” you chuckled sarcastically and brought your cup of coffee to your lips, taking a sip.

“Hey, just because you didn’t kill anything, doesn’t mean you weren’t tough or brave,” now he finally met your eye. His own eyes, so incredibly blue that it was hard to remember them glossing over and turning a dull red from the plagas only a few hours ago.

Was that a few hours ago? It felt like it had been days since that happened.

You didn’t know how to respond, and thankfully Leon spoke up again before you could.

“Are you drinking coffee?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re not trying to stay awake, are you?”

“I don’t think even coffee could help me stay awake at this point.” Was it a lie? No. Was it a small truth that you admitted so that you didn’t have to reveal the big truth? Possibly. You were definitely too tired for coffee to keep you awake, but you were also trying to stay awake, at least a little longer, so that Leon wouldn’t have to suffer through the night alone. You couldn’t imagine what kind of thoughts he must have when it got quiet, when he wasn’t busying himself by running around castles or villages, or killing monsters.

You were tired. But so was Leon and this was the least you could do for him… You just couldn’t tell him that’s what you were doing, or he would probably knock your ass out.

You’re not a fighter. You’re not a cool secret agent with gadgets, nor were you a military trained soldier who could turn anything into a weapon. You couldn’t do the things Leon could do, you couldn’t protect him, you couldn’t save him from monsters…

Staying awake for a night just to keep him company so that he didn’t have to suffer alone? It wasn’t grand, it was nothing like the magnitude of favors and rescues he had done for you over the last however many days. But it was something. You couldn’t really do much else.

Maybe you should give him that damn massage.

“So why are you doing all of this, Leon?” You asked, wanting to change the subject so he wouldn’t figure out your little plan. He raised an eyebrow at you over his cup of coffee and you elaborated. “You came to the village because of the president's orders, right? To save Ashley… So what made you want to work for the president of all people? Or is that classified information?” You teased, knowing damn well it could definitely be very classified.

Leon chuckled.

“It’s a little classified, yeah. But I will tell you that… I met a girl a few years ago. And I want to make sure she’s safe,” he nodded softly to himself, as if reminding himself why he just went through all the horrors of the village. His already soft features softened even more as he thought about this girl.

“Is she your girlfriend?”

“I think that’s illegal considering she’s a child,” he smirked slightly, as you looked down at your lap in embarrassment. “She escaped Raccoon City with me and another woman named Claire.”

“Is she your girlfriend?” You asked again, emphasis on the ‘she’ and a little teasing smile on your lips.

“Suddenly interested in my love life, huh?”

“Maybe I’m just trying to be a good wingman for Ashley. You know she’s crushing hard for you.”

“Oh this is for Ashley, huh?” His lips curl in amusement and you shrug, playing innocent. You both smile at one another as the world seems to stop spinning for a moment. Everything was quieter, the sound of rushing water from Ashley’s shower had even been drowned out, and now it was just you and Leon. You could breathe, you could take your time and just look at him, taking in the fine details of his face; the color of his irises, the sharpness of his jaw, the dip of his cupid's bow, the pinkness of his lips and the strongness of his chin.

Beautiful.

Inside and out, this man was… beautiful.

He was looking at you too, but it was different. His eyes dimmed, no longer shining along with his smile… it was like a part of him had left and gone somewhere else, no longer sitting right beside you. He looked through you, barely seeing you at all as he reminded himself of his job and why he was here. His smile faded and his eyes dropped, refusing to meet your gaze anymore.

You were admiring everything about him, and he was slowly drifting away from you. Like two ships passing in the night.

“Look… I can’t— I can’t have someone—“ he sighed and scooted closer to you on the couch, resting his gloved hand over the top of yours that was still holding your coffee mug. He was warm, even the leather of his glove was warm and it grounded you– it was a little prickly from where it had torn and frayed a little, from welding guns and knives all day long. His hand squeezed yours once, his pinky resting against the pulse point on your wrist. “I just can’t. Sorry...”

He was definitely not talking about Ashley anymore. You were only teasing and joking around about his relationship status, and you knew that he was far too good for you. Thanks to your low self esteem, and your confidence in Leon never being capable of looking at you the way you looked at him… that ship sailed hours and hours ago, practically when you very first laid eyes on him… But his words still felt like a knife to your heart for some reason.

You blinked once, shaking yourself out of the trance you had put yourself in, and your lips parted. You weren’t sure if you wanted to say something, or if you were going to say something, or if you should have said anything at all. But thankfully—

“Leon! Your turn! You stink. Who knew saving some damsels in distress was such tough work, huh?” Ashley teased as she burst out of the bathroom looking completely refreshed and clean. Her hair was twisted up into her towel while she wore the same clothes she wore in the village. Maybe you could go in search for some robes the three of you could wear or something— at least just for the night. You could go buy some clothes in the morning before the three of you headed back to your respective homes.

You and Leon jumped apart and refused to look at one another, as if you had been caught doing something naughty by your parents. If a hand on yours was considered naughty then you never wanted to be pure. Leon took a final sip of his coffee before placing the mug back down on the coffee table, and when he stood, he looked at Ashley, vaguely gesturing towards her. “Will you two be okay while I’m gone? I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Leon please. The only thing we’re in danger from right now is your body odor,” she teased even more, skipping over to grab Leon’s arm and ushering him towards the bathroom. “Im stronger than I look, don’t make me wrestle you into the shower, Leon.”

You blushed at the thought of Ashley and Leon anywhere near a shower together.

“Alright,” he chuckled but paused in the doorway of the bathroom, finally looking towards you again, but you were silent and didn’t quite know how to feel or react. “Yell if you need me, okay?” It was directed towards the both of you but his eyes were burning a hole into your face.

You simply nodded. And Leon disappeared behind the bathroom door.

———————————————————

“Need me to tuck you in or something?” Leon asked teasingly as he walked over to you. Ashley was fast asleep in one of the single beds, having passed out when you went for your shower after Leon. The three of you were clean, dressed in robes (well Leon wasn't), all comfy— but very tired. No amount of coffee could help.

You were sitting on the armchair by the second single bed, (there were only two but Leon said he was fine sleeping on the couch— this was obviously before he stupidly agreed to just not sleep at all for the night) a book in your lap, one that the hotel just had laying in the small bookshelf. It was terrible and not your idea of a good time at all, but there wasn’t much else to do. You could watch tv but you didn’t want the noise to keep Ashley up.

“Tell you a bedtime story?” He offered once you didn’t say anything to his first teasing question. “I don’t know how good of a story teller I am…”

“I'm fine, Leon. Thanks though,” you smiled up at him. You weren’t mad and you weren’t holding a grudge, you were just confused and felt a little awkward from your previous conversation with him. And with you acting awkward it only made things even more awkward— it… had been a rough few days.

“Okay…” he watched you skeptically for a moment. “Are you worried about falling asleep? I had the same problem after Raccoon City.”

“No-“

“Because I don’t mind staying up, and I can sit closer to your bed if it makes you feel any better?”

“Leon-“

“Ashley’s already knocked out so she won’t mind if I’m keeping an extra close eye on you until you fall asleep.”

“I'm fine. I swear. I just don’t feel like sleeping right now is all…” You looked up at him and smiled, closing your book to lightly wack his stomach with it. He took a step back and placed his hand over the spot you just walked, looking down with a faint smile.

“Right…” he nodded, sighing as he fell back onto your bed, spreading his legs like all men do, and resting his elbows on his knees. His upper body was leaning towards you where you sat on the armchair in between the window and the bed and, feeling a heat make its way onto your cheeks, you quickly went back to reading your book.

“What are you reading?” His voice was lower and softer than it was just a second ago, it sent shivers down your spine.

“I couldn’t tell you. I haven’t taken in a single word since I picked it up,” you looked back over at him and smiled with a small shrug as if to say ‘what can you do?’

“Riveting stuff. I guess it’s better than fighting monsters though.”

“I wouldn’t know, you fought all the monsters for me,” you sassed, as if you were disappointed that you didn’t get to fight anything, when in reality, you know you would have died if you had to go up against one of those crazy villagers. And Leon was taking on half of Spain it felt like, plus those that grew into large monsters with tentacles and big yellow eyes and slime and spikes and goop.

“Well hey, you threw a flash grenade at that Mendez guy for me.”

“I forgot to pull the pin…”

“Yeah, but he looked pretty pissed off when it hit his shin. It was a good throw,”

“I was aiming for his head…” You bit your lip.

Leon sighed and looked down, not knowing how to find the bright side of that little tidbit. A beat passed before you started to chuckle, and so did he. “I know one thing you did that saved my ass.”

“What’s that?” Your tone was humorous, thinking he was going to tease you again. It wasn’t like you did much, especially compared to Leon. Just the fact that he said ‘I know ONE thing you did that saved my ass’ is proof that you obviously didn’t do enough. However, maybe that’s for the best as you definitely would have gotten into even more trouble if you started being reckless.

“Luis’ lab…” he looked down at his hands as he spoke.”I was losing it, I could hardly see, I couldn’t move my body properly. I think I even started hallucinating.” His eyebrows jumped a little as he recalled those moments in his head. It wasn’t very pleasant for you either, but Leon had a lot more of those moments than you did. “I don’t think Ashley and I would have made it if you weren’t there,”

“I think I was just yelling at you the whole time. I was scared.” It was true. You were scared of losing both him and Ashley, and having to find a way off the island on your own. You recalled yelling at Leon while he stumbled through the hallways with an unconscious Ashley in his arms. ‘Hurry the fuck up, Leon!’ and ‘don’t fall down! Get back up! Now!’

“Your yelling got me to keep moving, gave me something to focus on.”

“Well... You’re welcome,” you whispered, looking down at your lap bashfully. Your teeth worried your bottom lip, making it feel a bit tingly and numb. Once you gained the courage to look back up and meet Leon’s gaze — his eyes already on you, watching you intently — you exhaled slowly through your nose and faintly shook your head.

“You’re so annoying,” you whispered.

“Yeah,” he whispered back.

He didn’t look amused, more like... he was agreeing with your statement. He didn’t even look like a kicked puppy, he had just accepted that it was his time to be knocked back down a couple pegs.

His eyes focused on yours while yours focused on his lips. God he was so annoying. And it was even more annoying knowing that he wasn’t doing any of this on purpose. He was just... like that. It was impossible not to like him, not to dream up some fantasy of you and him being closer, more intimate. Impossible not to imagine how soft his lips might be and how his hair might feel between your fingers, and how his rough hands might caress you so gently.

A heart breaker. That’s what he was.

Even Ashley was in the same trap as you — could you even call it a trap when Leon wasn’t aware he had set it, and you and Ashley had both practically willingly jumped into it? You heard her little hints, her little compliments. Calling him dashing and trying to get him to work with her once his mission was over. And you couldn't even blame her! You wanted more time with him as well.

“I wish I never met you,” you whispered, more softly than you had previously been speaking.

“Where would you be without me?” He whispered back just as gently.

His pearly whites faintly peaked out from behind his lips, barely visible but just enough to know that he was fighting off a smile. The corners of your lips twitched upward slightly as you fought off your own smile.

You leaned in.

He didn’t move away.

You leaned in more.

The hint of a smile had left his face and his eyes dropped down to your lips. His own lips parted and his brows twitching- itching to pull together, as he fought with himself. You could see it all — how he wanted to run, how he wanted to pull away, how he was worried and maybe even a little scared. But that wasn’t all, you could also see how he wanted to lean in and give you exactly what you wanted, because he wanted it too.

Conflicting.

You moved in gently and cautiously, your eyelids slowly closing. You weren’t sure if he moved in towards you, or if you managed to get closer to him in your eagerness, but you could feel his breath against your skin a second after your eyes closed. Your noses were the first to touch.

You breathed in, and Leon let out a shaky breath that you couldn’t only feel, but hear as well since you were so close to him. You angled your head to the side slightly, feeling your way out with the tip of your nose as it slowly and gently slid down the side of his nose bridge and poked the inner corner of his cheek.

Your lips ghosted his, feeling him ever so slightly. The softness, the warmth. You shuddered.

Your lips parted, so did his. Your lips pressed softly against his top lip while his pressed against your bottom lip, delighting yourself in how soft his lips were and how inviting they felt. You could only hope you had the same effect on him. He wasn’t pulling away, he leaned in closer, much to your surprise and his hand slowly reached out to lay flat against your knee.

You applied just the tiniest amount of pressure with your lips before pulling back, needing air. Your cheeks were warm, your eyes glossy, and your lips just a little wet from where Leon’s lips had pressed.

You licked your lips, wanting to taste more of him. He did the same. The both of you staring into each other's souls, eyes flickering to each other's lips, then eyes, then back to lips. Not a word was uttered between you two before he leaned forward this time and pressed his lips against yours.

Your heart skipped a beat.

His kiss was just as, if not more, gentle than yours, thinking he would be a little rough or just— anything but so gentle. As if you were more fragile than glass, more fragile than the finest porcelain. Like you were thin paper sat out in the rain, and one little breeze would tear you to pieces.

He kissed you. He wanted this. What was he talking about earlier with his ‘I can’t’? He was doing it right now and you never ever wanted him to stop.

Keeping your lips connected to his, you slowly rose from your seat, hands coming to slide over Leon’s shoulders. He leaned backwards — only his lower body, while his lips refused to leave yours, as he gave you space to sit down with him on the bed. His large, warm hands slid around your waist, pulling you closer and keeping you close.

Your lips parted for a short breath only to close around his bottom lip a second after. But when his lips parted, he didn’t bother gaining more air, he simply worked your mouth open and found your tongue with his own. The sound of wet lip smacking soon filled the room, along with faint panting and pauses for quick breaths — gulping down air when you had the chance.

His hands squeezed your hips and yours fisted the collar of his tight shirt, pulling and not letting him go. A way to ground yourself. Just an hour ago you were so content with the idea of him being too good for you. Knowing that he would never see you the way you saw him. But now here he was, kissing your lips so softly but so desperately.

Your heart was beating so fast inside your chest, trying to explode out of you.

“Leon...” you panted breathily against his mouth, having nothing else to say besides his name. A name you never thought you’d have the opportunity to whimper out like that. You whimpered it once before when you rolled your ankle after running away from a crazy wolf-dog thing, and needed to use Leon as a crutch for a moment, but this was different.

You weren’t sure if you leaned forward or if Leon pulled you closer but he slowly fell back down on the bed, and you followed pursuit. The pillow sunk beneath his head and his hands slid from your hips to your lower back, sending goosebumps all over your skin. You’ll never understand how someone can kick open doors and barrels and people’s heads, and also be so tender and gentle behind closed doors.

He was firm, sturdy as you laid on top of him. You could feel his heart beating against your chest and he could probably feel yours as well. His heart was beating fast, but strong and mighty, and even when he was distracted like this — not alert and ready to defend, you still felt so incredibly safe.

Your tongue pushed its way into his mouth, exploring and massaging where you could. You were thankful that you brushed your teeth when you had a shower earlier, and considering the fact that Leon tasted minty and refreshing, you could only assume he did as well.

His tongue slid against yours, flicking against the roof of your mouth before he pulled back to refill his lungs. You didn’t even have time to share a look before he was back to kissing you.

One hand slid into his sandy blond hair, pulling a sweet and quiet moan from deep within his chest. Your fingers slid against his scalp and teased the roots of his hair, while your other hand laid flat over his pectoral, feeling his muscle and firmness and his strength.

Your movements were slow and steady, like liquid pouring over his skin, there was no rush, there was no danger. It was just you and Leon, sharing kisses and slowly morphing into one being. If love wasn’t this then you didn’t want it.

“Leon... hmmf,” saying his name for no apparent reason other than to just say it. Your robe slipped as you raised your leg and bent your knee, hugging him with your thighs. Leon’s gloved hand slid down to feel the soft, exposed skin of your thigh and you gasped into his mouth. The feeling of his soft fingertips with the scratchy leather sent a heat all throughout your body.

He, of course, didn’t take a robe from you earlier, opting to stay in his filthy clothes since they were more practical for if he needed to defend you and Ashley again. You didn’t think he would have to defend the two of you at all, now that you were off the island and away from the village… but neither you nor Ashley were back home just yet, so he couldn’t afford to take any risks. He was sure determined and that alone made your insides all warm and fuzzy.

His hand gripped your thigh, but his lips stopped moving. You took the opportunity to worship him; to press kisses to the corner of his lips, then two on his cheek — one right beside his ear and the other closer to his jaw as you moved down to his neck.

His skin was so soft, save for the few cuts and scrapes. He lifted his head, giving you more room and you eagerly obliged, leaving soft pecks and wet, open mouthed kisses, little licks and faint nibbles. He hummed in pleasure and it made your whole chest flood with pride.

Pressing a kiss against his adam's apple, you went to move to the other side of his neck, wanting to give his right side equal treatment, but he turned his head. You weren’t sure if he was trying to stop you or not, so you pulled back just to make sure he was okay.

He looked perfectly fine. His cheeks were a soft shade of red that you would now commit to memory for the rest of your life– probably your new favorite color.. His eyes were half lidded and a little glossy, making the different shades of blue in his irises shine brightly even in the darkly lit room. It was impossible to have a fear of drowning when you looked into them.

Though he wasn’t looking at you.

His head was turned to the side, looking over at Ashley who was still sleeping like a rock. Her lips were parted and she breathed heavily, close to snoring but not quite.

It was only when you shifted your body a little, wanting to back off a bit in case he was uncomfortable, that you felt your effect on him. Your thigh felt his excitement, he pursed his lips together and closed his eyes for a moment to focus on his breathing.

Was this really happening?

“She won’t wake up,” you whispered to him and his eyes opened, looking cautiously into your eyes, then back to Ashley, then back to you one final time. You wanted him, and he wanted you, and you had both survived the horrors you encountered over the last few days. You both deserved a break. You both deserved this.

His brow furrowed knitting together tightly. Though the slight upward angle in his brows made him look like a wounded puppy.

“My job isn’t done yet,” he swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing. “I need to stay focused.”

You deflated.

“Right.” You nodded once and crawled off of him. Maybe it was for the best, you didn’t want to go too far with him after knowing him for only 48 hours. Though going through copious amounts of trauma together did make for a great bonding experience and therefore it felt like you had known him for months.

You sat on your ankles, hands on your knees. Your robe was open just enough to show your legs but the rest of you was covered. One hand left your knee to wipe your swollen and wet lips, basically wiping away Leon’s kiss, before you tucked your hair behind your ear.

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from your lap, feeling embarrassed and maybe even a little ashamed. Were you wrong to think Leon was into it? Into you? It definitely felt like he was, but maybe he snapped out of it once he realized you weren’t that lady in the red dress and the high heels.

As if he could sense your downward spiral, Leon’s hand found yours, the one still resting on your knee, and squeezed it reassuringly. “But I can… stay here?”

You finally looked up and met his ocean blue eyes. He had sat up somewhat, his back resting against the headboard of the bed. He looked just as unsure and nervous as you did. He obviously didn’t have much experience with this sort of stuff, which only made him even more endearing. The poor guy just fought monsters for a living and never had time to slow down and relax.

“While you fall asleep,” he added gently. He wanted to stay with you? In bed? Did that mean he wasn’t just using work as an excuse to not go further with you? He really did just want to stay alert and not have any distractions while the president's daughter was in his care.

“If you want?” He pressed one more time. He was giving you big, puppy dog eyes— knowing him, it was unintentional too. Even if you didn’t want him to stay with you, there was no way you could refuse him when he gave you that face. But you did want him to stay of course.

You didn’t need to say so.

You curled up beside him, sliding your body under the covers. Leon didn’t smell great, but he was at least clean enough— his clothes weren’t covered in blood and dirt but the smell lingered a bit. You weren’t sure if his sweat or the seawater from the jetski ride over was what rid his tight shirt of all the muck. Or maybe he washed them in the shower and dried them quickly afterwards. That would be nice.

Your hand splayed over his chest, feeling his heartbeat. Your nose pressed against his ribs, finding an odd sense of comfort in the smell that lingered. It was Leon after all, it was proof he was there with you, reminding you you were safe even when you had your eyes closed.

His arm was around your neck, letting you use his bicep as a pillow. His heart was beating rather fast as you snuggled into his side but after a few minutes it slowed back down and fell in tune with the steady rise and fall of his chest. Leon turned his head and pressed his lips against your forehead, letting them linger for a moment. And his arm, the one you weren’t laying on, moved over towards you, his hand stroking through your hair.

Cocooned in Mr. Leon S. Kennedy’s arms.

“Get some sleep. I’ll look after you.”

And there go your plans to stay awake with him.

—————————————————————

After waking up in Leon’s arms, you got up and did your morning ritual with Ashley. Breakfast, brushing your teeth, brushing your hair, getting dressed, etc. Leon stood by the door rushing you both as it got close to 9am. A tired but teasing “come on, ladies” came from him as he ushered you both out the door.

Ashley was the first to go home. Being the president's daughter and all. You said your goodbyes to her in the car, opting to not go into the big building with all the security guards. Leon escorted her back to her father — after you and Ashley exchanged emails of course, and by the time she had been delivered home safely, it was already dinner time. The flight from Spain to America chewed up a few hours.

You and Leon didn’t really have a chance to talk when Ashley was around. Though you thought that once it was just the two of you, he might mention something from last night or maybe even be a little more touchy feely. A hand on your thigh while he drove or maybe he would reach for your hand. Maybe press a kiss to the back of your palm once in a while or lean over to kiss your cheek at every stop sign and red light.

He didn’t do any of that.

He barely spoke. You barely spoke. Maybe it was because these were your final moments with him, that you didn’t know what to say or how to act or what to do. How do you say goodbye to someone who saved your life time and time again? How do you just watch him leave without somehow repaying him? Why did he have to leave at all? Why did you have to go back home?

You just did. He just did. It just had to be like this.

Finally once you arrived at your home, Leon got out of the car first, coming around to let you out of the passenger side like a gentleman. You smiled and stepped out, awkwardly hugging yourself as you walked with him to the front door.

This was it wasn’t it? The final goodbye.

You bent down to flip over the corner of the welcome mat, picking up your spare house key and unlocking the door. You hadn’t been home in weeks. Everything was dark and dusty and that homey scent had faded away until you barely recognised where you were.

The door was open but you were yet to step inside. You turned to face Leon first, your hand gripping the door handle tightly until your knuckles turned white.

“…Do you... wanna come in?” You asked hopefully, just wanting to spend more time with him, wanting to feel safe for just a few minutes longer. You wouldn’t be able to feel safe once he walked away. And that foolish little part inside you hoped you could pick up where you left off last night.

But Leon pulled a face. Not out of disgust or hatred or anything bad, he was just… his face was saying ‘no.’ The awkward smile that wasn’t really a smile, more like a ‘man, I’m about to hurt your feelings even though I don’t want to,’ smile.

“I guess not, huh?” You looked down and nodded distantly, realising that this really was goodbye then. Part of you wanted to be angry, for everything that had happened last night, for the feelings you had developed. However, Leon’s ocean blue eyes and his silly floppy hair with those pink, kissable lips... how could you be mad at that?

“It’s been a long couple of days. I should get home.”

“No, yeah. Of course,” you awkwardly shuffled on your feet, avoiding eye contact.

“I’ll probably have another mission lined up for me when I get back to work.” Leon’s voice was quiet and his shoulders were tense. You couldn’t tell what he was thinking or feeling but he definitely didn’t look comfortable.

“Yeah.” You nodded slowly, keeping your gaze on your shoes that inched closer towards the inside of your home, wanting to run away and hide.

One beat passed. A sigh left both of you at the same time.

“I’ll see you ‘round, (Y/N)...” you blinked. He was leaving already? Just like that? You finally looked up to meet his eyes, wanting a look at those pools of blue one more time... but he had already turned around and started walking away. He was clearly eager to get away from you, eager to get home and back into his work.

You wouldn't cry over someone you couldn't have...

“Goodbye, Leon.”

You stepped inside your home and closed the door behind yourself.

#i'm alive #Leon Kennedy #leon s kennedy #Leon Scott Kennedy #leon x reader #leon x y/n #leon kennedy fluff #Leon Kennedy smut #Leon Kennedy angst #Its been so long idk how to tag my shit anymore

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