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tamayakii · 5 months

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Fathers Love

notes: honestly i went in so hard without a plan this kinda fell through so I'm so sorry if it sucked, i wrote this in like, an hour with no beta reader or breaks. Sorry homies, this is all u get until i get more inspo <3 tags: @inuyasha330 warnings: angst, daddy daughter angsty, the way i was tempted to make this emotionally incesty but i DIDNT- thank me for that. anyways, dives over the pier.

The atmosphere felt thick around you, sitting in an unfamiliar environment. Your only comfort was your older brother but even then he felt distant, you saw the stars of the galaxy and more; you saw things that amazed you.

“So this is what I missed out on?” whispering to him, when you had gotten your powers he had offered you a trip through the stars but you had rejected it; terrified of the powers granted to you through your DNA.

Days before the incident in Chicago, your father had forced you to get a superhero suit when he found out that you too were blessed with the viltrumite powers, promising that he too would train you as he did Mark but; that no matter what you were still his little girl.

You were always his little girl, when you came into this world Nolan had shed the first tears he ever would shed; he was so fearsomely protective of you. Never letting you go out alone, finally seeing the purpose of the backpack leashes marketed towards parents, always always kept you close to him. Growing up he was your hero, he was your everything.

Now the suit feels uncomfortably tight with the memory of his words when he saw it on you for the first time, “just like me” he said, back then it was a compliment but now it was your fear.

“Yeah.. it’s amazing. Isn’t it?” Mark replied in turn, looking at you. There’s a pause before he puts his hand on your shoulder, “it’s gonna be okay.” he answers, you want to believe him. You wanted to but your gut told you otherwise but you stifled it. “I hope so.”

The rest of the flight passed by quickly, with sleeping and eating orange-coloured goo there wasn’t much else to do besides daydream. After a while; all the stars looked the same, passing you by like blurs.

You wondered about where your father went, leaving Chicago a mess, beating your brother to near death- Leaving the world without a word to you or your mother. How many stars away was he? You were left no time to wonder before Nuolzot announced your arrival, waking your brother up.

The skies were pink turning into blue, and purple buildings and large arches decorated the sandy planet. The spaceship hummed as it slowly landed, a horde of blue bug people awaited your arrival.

Cautiously you followed Mark, so close that you were practically his shadow. While he stared in wonderment, you looked for the meteor showers that were supposedly destroying the planet, but there was no sign of them. Only clear skies, no orange fiery balls of death. You held onto Mark's forearm, your gut twisting as Nuolzot took you further from the ship.

“Wait, what exactly about this planet needs saving? Where are the meteors?” Mark questions, you let out a small breath. So he noticed too, you stared at the alien from behind Mark. Face twisting when he answers, forgetting about his own planet's demise that he had cried out about in your backyard before finding your brother at college.

Mark stopped, “The ones that kill billions?” He questions slowly. Stepping in a way that covered you from Nuolzot, as if he was gonna attack as an answer to Mark. But only to leave you two in confusion about his answer,

“The Monarch will explain all.” You begin to wonder who the Monarch was, what it was. Was there no one else to help this planet? Why come all this way when there must be nearby planets that could help?

“Your Majesty!!” The alien calls out, pulling you out of your thoughts, “May I present, Invincible and His sibling, Of Earth!” You and Mark stammer before bowing, figuring it was the most respectful thing to do.

“Hello, Kids.” Shock runs through you like a viper, making your heart drop and your limbs go numb. “It’s been a while.” Your bottom lip quivers and you look up- Dad. There he is, tears fill your lash line as you rack your head for answers,

“Dad?” Marks voice sounds like the wind, moving farther away. Your brows further, shaking your head as you watch Mark approach him. Memories of childhood and happiness flood through you like a dam broken, the love for your father washes over you before something else hits you. Anger, Despair, Sadness.

It was like looking the devil in the eye, the same one that had killed thousands. Your fists clench as you step back, lowering your head as you gaze at him through your eyelashes. Body quivering with the amount of power it takes to not scream at him, to hit him, to ask him why he ruined everything.

And Mark hugs him. He fucking hugs him. It’s like a knife in your heart, biting your lip so hard you taste the iron in your blood. The longer their embrace goes, the longer your heart squeezes. Emotions wrap around you like an old friend amidst the eye of a hurricane, words become distant as you remember all of the pain he put you through, put your mother. Your brother.

You’re brought back to reality when Marks hand touches your shoulder, Nolans eyes catching yours making you flinch from his gaze. “Guess they don’t know you like we do… Fuck you.” Thats the last word your brother says before he takes off, for a few seconds you look back at him. The man that is your father, he goes to reach out; mouth opening and you take off just like Mark. Catching up to him, tears being blown away by the harsh oncoming wind.

But despite all that, he catches up to you; “you’ll never make it home on your own!” You speed up, leaving Mark and Nolan behind. You wanted your silence to hurt him, to cut him deeper than he cut you but it wasn’t possible because he made a hole in your heart.

Mark catches back up to you and Nolan follows again, bargaining with Mark. Promising a ship back home, that Nuolzot wasn’t lying. That they do need help. You let out a yell of frustration; can’t they leave you alone? If you had to fly back to earth on your own you will.

You keep flying, even when Mark doesn’t follow anymore. You keep going until you feel your body adjust to the lack of oxygen, till your tears float in the endless void of space.

“Wait! Wait up!” You stop at your brother's voice, lips quivering. “Please. Wait.”

“Look.. just five minutes-” He bargains “What?! No! Absolutely not! I- No! Are you insane?!” You push him away, but he floats back, angering you more. He grabs your forearms,

“Just five minutes is all. Is there is actual trouble; then we’ll help them out. If not, we can leave. It’s just five minutes.” Mark explains, his dark eyes are wide and begging.

“..fine. But i’m not saying anything to him.” Mark nodded, before pressing his forehead against yours. “That’s okay,” he answers gently before flying with you beside him.

“Five minutes.” Mark orders, Nolan looks at you but you don’t look at him,

“don’t you wanna say anything to me?” Nolan asks- arms out in defeat. He expected this, expected hatred, expected yelling or anything. Anything but silence. He hated silence. Especially from his little girl, that hurt him the most. Both you and Mark flew down to the civilization in response, following Nolan through the building. Mark and him made small talk- more like argued.

You spaced out, trying to bide back the pain that holds you tight, you look up to see another bug alien approach your father and kiss him. Your mouth flies open; Words are exchanged but they’re tuned out.

Seconds feel like hours, Nolan walks to a crib and realisation hits you hard. You feel sick, he made a new family. You’ve been replaced. You’re not his little girl anymore, you were nothing to him. Bile rises through your throat,

“I’m gonna be sick” You shout, turning and sprinting out the door to barf into a potted plant, Mark storms out afterwards and Nolan goes chasing, his bug mate as well. “Oh dear- are you okay?” She asks, holding the baby in one arm and the other rubbing your back. You feel bad, normally you would be thankful for any pity when you barf but now her touch makes you wanna scream. Shrugging her off, you sneer at her before storming off as well.

You see your father and brother, rage making you see red. “What I did on Earth was..” Your fist connects with Nolans jaw as he speaks but it only makes him stumble a bit.

“Fuck you! Just fuck you!! You get to come to earth and make a family- make us love you as if you loved us and then you fuck off to make a new one!?” You cry out, your voice breaking from the strain on your vocal cords. Nolan rubs his jaw, his eyes hold anything but anger, but youre blind to it.

“Please... It’s not what you think.” He pleads, holding his hands out. You slap them away and push him,

“You put me into this fucked up world! You promised me you’d never leave me and look what you did! You left me! You almost killed Mark! Mom cries every night and i don’t know what to do with myself!” You hit his chest, “you said i was your little girl but you left and made a new family like we were nothing! Well fuck you!” You hit his chest over and over again, to no avail.

“Please. Listen.” He grabs your wrists, “You have to listen. You and your brother need to help these people; if not, viltrumite will kill them. They already know i left my post.” Tears roll down your cheeks, and you lean your head back and thrust into his nose.

“Post!? We were just some fucking post to you!? Why do you care about them? Why not us? What about me!?” Headbutting him made no difference, you struggle in his grip. The sight of his babygirl crying broke him; he was supposed to protect you and all he did was hurt you.

“Look i.. I needed you and your brothers' help. They’re good people. We need to save them”

“What about me dad? What about me? Where were you when i needed saving?” your words fall more gently, and you press your forehead on his chest. You wanted to be his little girl again; giggling in his arms as he swung you around.

“I promise, we can talk about all of this soon. But you have to help me save these people.”

And like the little girl who did anything for her daddy's approval, you caved. You hung onto that promise, not realizing that he wouldn’t be able to keep it but for now, it comforted you, warm like your father's love.

#invincible x reader #invincible #nolan grayson x reader #mark grayson x reader #wow thats not alot of tags...

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devine-fem · 28 days

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- Jon & Damian throughout the universe.

I know you, Faye Webster // Small Hands, Radical Face // Meteor Shower, Cavetown // Best Friend, Laufey // Promise, Laufey // The World is Ugly, My Chemical Romance // Too Close, Alex Clare // First Love/Late Spring, Mitski // Reflections, The Neighbourhood // Small Hands, Radical Face // No light, No light, Florence + The Machine // Capable of Love, Pinkpantheress // Forever, Charli XCX // Alexandra, The Army, The Navy

#thank you for the song suggestions!#jondami #super sons #damian wayne #jon kent #supersons #jonathan kent #dc comics #damijon #webweaving #web weaving #superfam #batfam #idc if this flops it was fun to make #web weave #parallelism #comparitives

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exactlycleverpirate · 3 months

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Timeline from Xavier's Perspective Part 2

EDIT: Updated with some new information and some adjustments.

(Includes spoilers for basically everything, including all myths.)

This is an update of my earlier post. See Part 1 here.

Timeline from Xavier's perspective (Part 2/Earth):

Timejump.

?1248 (“It’s been 800 years!”)? Sometime in a past life, Rafayel and MC were lovers. (Is this when MC was trapped on the Island of Songs in a hut by herself, doomed to someday drown and Rafayel comes, gives her his heart and saves her?) Then she is cursed and turned into a Sea Witch in the Abyssal Rift. She has no memory of Rafayel or being human. Rafayel exchanges his scale, eternal blood, and a shell with his voice in order to turn MC human and restore her memories. Then he turns to sea foam. (Fragrant Dream.) (This could all be an actual dream or allusion that never happen or hasn't happened yet. However, this could be when Rafayel gifted MC one of his scales and formed the bond between them.)

2018 Xavier checks out a book in the library that MC will check out 30 years later. (An

1834 AD Xavier, Jeremiah, Isaiah, Noah (Likely actually Jeremiah, due to translation error), and others stranded on Earth. (This timing comes from a promotional video where Xavier says he has been on Earth for 214 years.) (Part of a team called the Backtrackers. Were on a Backtrack mission when something went wrong in the Deepspace tunnel.)

Appointment)

2021 Zayne born Sept 5th.

2024 (...probably) Rafayel born March 6th

2025 The year Xavier claims he was born, on Oct 16th.

2026-2027 MC born. (This age comes from chapter 5.1. The letter she gets from Grandma says she was 7-8 when they started experimenting on her, and she was adopted by Grandma after the Chronorift Catastrophe in 2034.)

Child Rafayel likes escaping to explore the ocean. On one or more of these excursions, he sees a lantern festival and puts out their lanterns. (Ocean At Night)

2032 Xavier joins Arthur's police team. (Anecdote 2)

2033 That winter, Noah (Likely actually Jeremiah, due to translation error) contacts Xavier for information to make a new identity. Noah mentions wanting to be an ordinary person in this timeline and that he fell in love. Xavier fakes his death as a police officer and encounters a lost little girl with a bunny plushie. Fights Isaiah in Linkon city in a fight that makes the whole city go dark. He disguises this by making it look like there is a meteor shower. (Anecdote 2)

2034 Deepspace tunnel appears and Chronorift Catastrophe (timespace anomaly in Linkon city). MC is 7-8, taken in by Grandma. Caleb is also adopted by Grandma. 12 year old Zayne loses control of his Evol at the end of summer and has a nightmare about the Grim Reaper for the first time. Rafayel would be 10 at this time. Xavier appears as Lumiere for the first time, kills the first Wanderer in the Chronorift Catastrophe and saves MC. On December 31st, Lemurian ruins are discovered, after a tsunami southeast of Linkon city, when a rift opens up and reveals it. Her grandma participates in experiments to fuse a human heart and a protocore. At some point, MC's heart is fused with an Aether core. Onichynus and Dr. Noah are both somehow linked to these experiments. Her first heart doctor is Dr. Noah.

At some point in MC and Rafayel's childhood, Rafayel visits the surface world but gets trapped on the beach on his return trip (on Ebb Day?) (Perhaps during her field trip to Hat Island?) She saves him and they make a pinkie promise. Rafayel says if she doesn't return, he will chase her to the ends of the earth. (Nightly Stroll)

Child Rafayel is given a Whale Call as a means of protection, in case something happens on one of his escapes from Lemuria. However, he never uses it, because he never escapes again after this, and sometime later he buries it in the Lemurian city. (Whalefall Lament)

Child Rafayel is tricked and his people slaughtered. Some survivors go into hiding living on land among humans, including his Aunt Talia and K. (Anecdote 3)

Sometime before 2038, MC goes on a field trip to Hat Island (possibly when she meets Rafayel?).

2035 Zayne (age 14) begins medical school at Skywalk University, spends 6 years in med school program. (It normally takes 8.) (From his biography on the hospital wall.)

2043 Zayne (age 22) graduates from medical school. Goes on a mission to the Arctic where he is forced to mercy kill his mission leader who is being consumed by some sort of ice (Anecdote 2). Begins work at Linkon Central Hospital. (From his biography on the hospital wall.)

Rafayel's Anecdote 3 immediately precedes Anecdote 2 (See 2044-2047). Rafayel is singing in the opera and seeking revenge overseas in Verona under the name Mo. He is being investigated by a private detective named Louis. He is not painting at this time. His Aunt Talia is also in Verona. He attends a Seamoon Ceremony for a fellow Lemurian survivor, K. Lemurians are hiding amongst humanity, but being hunted, tortured, harvested for their scales and blood and killed. Rafayel then moves to Linkon city and resumes painting again. He has a photo of MC in his pocket. (Anecdote 3).

Sometime between 2043-2045 MC (17-18) begins attending University of Linkon. (School year usually begins in September.)

2043-2047 Rafayel's Anecdote 2 takes place sometime in this timeframe while MC is at University of Lincoln. That summer, his painting Illusion projects him into the spotlight as a popular artist. In late summer, he becomes a lecturer at University of Linkon. He receives information on her from someone at the Nest. He believes there are “predators'' surrounding her, some of whom may be trying to use her to trap him, so he is wary about approaching her. He burns the photos and information the man who investigated her collects about her. He describes his feelings toward her as painful and addictive, thinking he is ready to spend the rest of his days with her, but also wants to settle the score between them. (Anecdote 2). Thomas becomes Rafayel’s agent. (Anecdote 1).

2045 Xavier meets Arthur at his tombstone. (Anecdote 2)

2046 Zayne makes a groundbreaking discovery about the effects of the Evol gene on heart development. (From the AKSO hospital article about him). He receives the Starcatcher and Linde Awards. (From his biography on the hospital wall.)

2047-2048 MC graduates. (School year usually ends June-July)

2048 Pregame: Zayne becomes chief surgeon. Zayne becomes MC's doctor 6 months before the story begins (in July of 2048, making 6 months prior the month of January) (Dr. Dean/Noah was her doctor before him). Also 6 months before the story begins, Raymond begins exhibiting symptoms of mental confusion and other abnormal behavior. At the start of the year, (per Main Story chpt 2.6) Rafayel returns to the country from overseas. He is known for spending six months painting in his studio, then traveling the world for inspiration/materials for the other 6 months. The month before the main story, Rafayel's art broke the record for the highest selling art at Lizio Auctions. Raymond buys a painting from Rafayel's gallery.

2048 Story begins Wednesday, July 1st (most likely), with MC being initiated as a Hunter in the Hunter's Association. MC is about 21-22, and her Evol has to do with Resonance, Anhaunsen Class. Rafayel is 24, Fire Evol. Zayne is 27, Ice Evol. Xavier claims to be 23, Light Evol. Traceback II is approaching the event horizon and entering the black hole.

See Love and Deepspace: the Story So Far Part 1.

Sometime in the future, after the destruction of Linkon but before the destruction of Earth, Grim Reaper Zayne lives, killing humans turned Wanderer and dreaming of a life as a doctor with the woman he loves. (Anecdote 3)

Part 1 and 2 in this timeline continue in a loop perpetually?

#love and deepspace #rafayel love and deepspace #xavier love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace xavier #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace rafayel #xavier #zayne #rafayel

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shunsuiken · 8 months

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WELCOME HOME, RASCAL! (a SAGAU)

synopsis. kamisato ayato, a character you’ve been waiting for the past eight months is finally rerunning on the limited-character banner. your luck on the last banner had left you devastated but this time, after being isekai’d into the world of genshin impact, should bring it up a notch.

tags. gn!creator!reader + fluff + implied reader x ayato + but technically this whole concept is like the genshin men x reader lmao + reader is physically affectionate

warnings. none

wc. 1.3k

an. this was inspired by my successful and expensive ayato pulls from last year <//3 also i KNOW the reader is the creator and could technically “pull” for ayato even without wishes but ykw lets say this creator!reader wanted to do the dirty work so they could have the satisfaction when they pull for him (take a fucking shot every time you read pull omg </3)

you’re staring at the sky, inhaling and exhaling heavily. there’s a thin sheen of sweat down your back which makes your clothes cling to you uncomfortably. a breeze blows past your nose, gently tickling you.

venti, i’m fine i promise. you sigh in your mind, knowing where that gust of wind came from. seems like he’s visiting mondstadt today.

for the past few minutes, you’ve been having a staring contest with the sky. your acolytes—your companions—grow worried at the sight of you. you’re unmoving and it also looks as if you’ve stopped breathing.

“your grace?” albedo calls out to you, giving you a soft smile. “the skies are ready for your command.”

you sigh, nodding your head. “yes, i’m aware. i’m just a little—” worried. you finish your sentence in your thoughts.

it’s been a while since you pulled on the limited-character banner.

you’ve been saving for ayato, specifically.

you have exactly sixty wishes—yes, you’re aware how risky it is to pull because if all goes wrong there is no backup plan. you’re tapping your finger against your lips to contemplate your decision again.

“your grace, if it makes you feel any better, i’m happy to remind you that you are the commander of the stars,” thoma’s voice pipes up and your expression shatters with a nervous smile.

“thank you, thoma. i appreciate it.”

“my lord will heed your words, you can count on it!” thoma encourages you, nodding his head like a puppy and you almost coo if it weren’t for the current situation.

you maintain your composure, lifting your hand to pet thoma’s head fondly. “i hope you never change.”

itto, who’s vibrating on the side next to shinobu, is ecstatic to hear about the homecoming of his best bro. honestly, he was just about as sad as you when he didn’t come home the last time. “hit it, your grace!” he yells in excitement.

you turn to the skies that are now a grand mixture of oranges and gold in your abode. “what the oni said!” you grin, voice loud and clear.

your other companions normally watch from the sidelines as you command the skies—or to modern day language—while you make a ten pull for kamisato ayato. there are cheers of excitement and simple “good luck’s” that are thrown into the air, easing the atmosphere and your nerves.

the holographic button shines, the “wish x10” button stares back at you and when you tap on it, a mesmerising shower of blue and purple stars rain across the sky. it is certainly a sight to see. it rivals the meteor showers from your home world. and only those in your abode get the opportunity to witness such a moment. you watch as the blue stars fall in front of you, wisping away and materialising into three star weapons.

you also receive a few constellations for some four star characters including kujou sara and rosaria but other than that, there hasn’t been any sighting of gold in the sky.

“your grace, look up!” tighnari calls you out of your thoughts and your eyes immediately capture the colour of a radiant gold, the dissipating tail of the star glitters like a sunset on the horizon.

you don’t even realise how your feet take you to where the star lands on the grassy field of your abode. you gasp for air to keep up with the excitement but you can’t deny the apprehension that crawls up your spine in anticipation.

“delighted to serve you, your grace.”

you gasp. this voice-

lo and behold, the yashiro commissioner himself appears before you, expression cool and posture poise. only he could ever uphold such grace and elegance.

“ayato! how are you? how was the journey? how do you feel?” you plaster your hands onto the man’s cheeks, checking to see if there were any scars while you bombard him with questions. your hand briefly holds onto his biceps before straightening down his outer coat endearingly.

it’s to everyone’s knowledge of how much of an honour it is for you to physically touch somebody, you are their creator for goodness sake! your hands are delicate yet so powerful at the same time. just a snap of your fingers could erase the existence of teyvat.

so the normally composed commissioner in front of you is rather stunned by your actions. although the experience he’s gained from spending years in politics and serving higher authorities, none of those moments would have ever prepared him for somebody above his rank to react the way you did. he’s stuck in place. you’re so… affectionate. and you carry it with you so boldly too!

goodness me. ayato panics, pursing his lips to contain his smile that desperately tries to reveal itself. “i… i am very well, thank you, your grace.” he avoids your starry-like eyes, voice quieter than usual.

thoma has to use his whole body to stifle his laughter at his lords’ face. how many times are you—is anybody ever going to see the yashiro commissioner so flustered?! oh, he’s never going to hear the end of this from thoma.

“my lord! it seems you’ve been received well.” thoma gives his lord a bright smile and ayato’s eye twitches at the short snicker that comes after his retainer's words. if only my lady were here, she would be giggling along so much too! thoma adds in his mind.

ayato clears his throat, “of course, it’s an honour to be received directly by their grace.” he bows his head towards you and you feel your heart skip a beat at his respectful gesture.

but it’s not the time to be feeling like this. you need to steel your heart. there is still a part of you that wants to scold him for not coming home earlier. “don’t scare me like that again! you had me so worried eight months ago.” you smile through your words but it doesn’t fool the yashiro commissioner.

“that was an oversight on my part, your grace.” heh, figured he’d say something along those lines. “how can i make it up to you?”

hm, how can he make it up to me? you put your chin between your thumb and curled index finger. actually, does he even have to? he’s already here and that’s good enough for me.

“well if you could make yourself comfortable in my humble abode, it’d ease my worries.” you turn your head towards the estate before looking back at him, noticing a strand of his soft blue hair flying in the air. you smile fondly, raising your hand to pat it down.

his eyes animatedly look up to follow where your hand went, and he huffs another soft chuckle at your actions. he’s only been blessed by your appearance once during an official meeting with the raiden shogun and other inazuman officials but who knew you were so loving and gentle in person?

they’re so… adorable. yes, that’s the correct term for them. ayato thinks to himself.

“might i ask if your grace could give me a tour around?”

your eyes sparkle as you nod your own head. “of course i can!”

ayato follows your lead around the abode, listening to your constant chatter, never missing a single word you say. he also gets introduced to everyone in the abode, giving them all a brief introduction with some simple exchanges in between.

you have to hold in your laughter when itto refers to the commissioner as ‘my bro’ again. it seems it still hasn’t occurred to the oni of “his bro’s” identity.

“your grace, i would be delighted to invite you over to the estate for some tea if you have no schedules in the upcoming week,” ayato suggests with a small smile on his face.

you raise a brow. “are you busy right now?”

ayato hums, going over his mental list of things to do. “actually i don’t have a meeting until tomorrow morning.”

“then it’s settled, we’ll have some tea right now!” you offer your hand out to him and he takes it, who is he to decline?

with a soft grunt that leaves his lips from your stronger-than-expected tug of the hand, ayato lets you lead him into your abode.

#ayato x reader #sagau x reader #sagau fluff #ayato fluff #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #kamisato ayato x reader #genshin impact x reader

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morallyinept · 6 months

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Summary: Joel Miller comes back into your life unexpectedly after a gap of thirty years, and stirs up all kinds of memories and longing. Now, as you're stationed on an outpost for five days alone with the man you stupidly let go of all those years ago, you have a chance to confront him about your past life together and all the things you wished you’d said and done.

But Joel’s different now, and you know you need to tread carefully. Joel Miller is not the same man you once knew in another life.

A slow burn romance set in the post apocalyptic world, approx. twenty or so years after the initial Cordyceps outbreak.

Pairing: Post-Outbreak Joel Miller x MatureF!Reader (No name or physical description of reader. However reader is of a similar age range as Joel; in her late forties/early fifties. Joel is slightly older at 56.)

Chapter Word Count: 3.9k

Series Masterlist

☝🏻See Series Masterlist for full smut warnings & triggers in this story. Chapters that contain smut or triggers will be highlighted in the chapter notes below. 👇🏻

Chapter notes: You're getting this a day early this week. For reasons. Mentions and descriptions of panic attacks. Mentions of self-harm/attempted suicide. Heavy angst - I promise, it will pep up soon! 😅

☝🏻Some of the tags aren't working, so please ensure you're following me and turn on notifs so you don't miss an update on this story.

Enjoy! 🖤

Previous Chapter

The sun is on the other side of the sky when you eventually arrive at outpost three.

The pink edges of an early dusk will soon make their way in, dip-dyeing the clouds rolling in puffy plumes above.

Summer evenings have always been beautiful, even before the world turned to shit.

You enjoy the colours; the golds fading into pinks, and then purples as the night would settle in. A pastel kaleidiscope, and you're thankful the sky has remained free of the horrors that taint the ground below it.

It's the only reprieve you have left these days, when you take a moment to gaze up at the stars, enthralled by the infinite beauty of space.

A renegade memory cuts in; Joel's body warming you on the air mattress he'd dragged out into the garden so you could both watch the meteor shower you'd been haranguing him about for weeks.

I don't want to miss it! You'd said, endlessly. There were only a few glimpses of the white, glittery streaks across the sky that night. Mostly because you and Joel were too busy looking at one another instead and talking excitely about the future. Your future, together.

Even though you never actually had one.

You smile with a deep sigh, throwing your head up to the sky as you trot on and Joel catches your wistful eyes.

"What's that look for? " He queries, curiously.

You shake your head smiling. "Nothing."

The day feels like it's dragged on deliberately to torment you, and tiredness weighs heavy on your back and under your eyes.

You follow Joel on his stud up the grassy knolls towards a small looking shack, tucked and nestled out the way that's not so obvious it's there, but gives a good view down into the valley which you’ve spent the last couple of hours riding up languidly.

Once off your horse, you guide the mare into a side stable hidden by the trees and are surprised to find ample hay bales stacked in there.

Joel shuts the paddock fence, “grab that bucket there,” he instructs and you do, following him as he takes the heavy knapsacks from off your horse. You offer to take them, but he shakes his head as he loads himself up and it makes you smile that he's never lost his gentlemanly chilvary.

Even if he's lost everything else.

Joel reaches behind a piece of wood and pulls out a key, unlocking the door and you instantly marvel at the inside.

“This is not what I expected from an outpost,” you say as you look about the place in bewilderment.

There’s a small, ashy stove in the corner with a basket of chopped logs next to it. A singular camper’s cot is along the far wall, with sheets folded on top of it and a threadbare pillow.

A couple of beaten wicker chairs face a large window; most of it is boarded up, save for a small square cut out where the light pools in softly and illuminates the floor by your feet. Dust motes dance in the white beams and you wander over to the view of the valley that’s squashed inside the tiny frame like a grainy Polaroid.

You traipse over to the side room, which is an alcove cut into the wood, to find a hose pipe attached to a slow rusting tap. A crude shower with a curtain hanging up. There's a couple of rough feeling towels on a hook, and a large bowl on the floor, presumably the toilet.

"S'no hot water." He says with a thin line for a mouth.

You turn to Joel shrugging, surprised. “Are all your outposts this fancy?” You quip with a wry grin.

You were expecting a hole in the dirt to squat in for the next five days and not much else. This is a palace in comparison.

A rickety shelving unit houses a few dogeared books, a few battered boxes that you see are old board games on closer inspection. There’s also an array of metal tins, some in various states of peeling and rusting.

“We work in rotations when on the lookout. The guys who were here last would’ve left yesterday, maybe the day before. Gotta leave the place smart n’ tidy for the next shift. Those are the rules.”

“Noted,” you say as Joel takes the metal bucket from you. He's careful not to touch you, you notice. “You’ve been on the lookout before?” Your fingers run over the sniper stand set up by the window.

The floorboards beneath you creak and jostle as you move, and you look down to see one board is loose as you step on it with your boot. You can hear running water from the tap in the alcove as the bucket starts to fill.

“A few times. I mostly get picked for scoutin’ runs.” Joel explains, his head peering out from the alcove at you. “S’what I used to do in the QZ, so guess m’good for it.”

"Are you good at finding things?"

He doesn't answer that.

You bend down and pull the floorboard up and find boxes of bullets and shotgun cartridges in there and baulk. There’s a small radio walkie-talkie too.

“Get ‘em all out,” Joel instructs you, resting the full bucket by the door. “We might be needin’ ‘em. Best have ‘em ready.”

You do and Joel attaches his rifle on the stand, peering through the periscope and places the boxes, you hand up to him, on the small table in between the wicker chairs.

“We switch the radio on once, just before midday, each day. If nothin’ comes through by quarter-past, then all is well.” Joel explains.

He throws his thumb over his shoulder to three small clocks on a wonky wooden shelf that tick quietly out of sync. They all read at the same time, differing by a minute or two. A stack of batteries are beside them. “In case one stops,” Joel remarks as he sees you inspecting.

“Industrious.” You nod understanding, and place the radio on the table next to the bullets. “Are all the outposts equipped like this?”

“Pretty much. Each time ya have a shift, ya bring supplies with ya from the commune to top up.”

You nod again as he points at the knapsacks realising that you’ll have less to go back with.

“You want me to take the first watch?” You offer.

Joel shakes his head. “No. I will. But we’ll eat first. Once it’s dark, we can’t use any light. Don’t want no-one or no infected knowin’ we’re here, okay? We keep quiet, keep our heads down. We just wait n’ watch.”

“Yes, sir.” You remark with a salute and Joel grits his teeth.

“You wanna get the stove goin’?” He frowns.

“You’re not gonna cook for me?” You remark with your tongue in your teeth, and he rolls his eyes. “I remember you being a great cook.”

“I ‘member you bein' full of shit.” Joel remarks as he steps over and rifles through the knapsacks, pulling out several cans and handing them to you.

You chuckle, recalling the time when Joel burnt the only dinner he’d ever attempted to cook for you on Valentine’s Day once. Instead, he’d ordered in pizza and then fucked you on his parent’s sofa whilst they were out on a romantic date night of their own.

It was a close call, barely getting your damp panties back on before they came home to two red faces with messy hair trying to look innocent. It was the same night he told you he loved you.

The thought warms your belly momentarily before the snakes strike with their venom again.

You look down at the cans, some dented, some without labels, one is blown and you tell Joel you can't eat it and he nods. You get to preparing some food. It’s a lucky dip as to what it’ll be, but you remain optimistic.

Joel pulls out a tupperware box with some baked bread in it and you groan in surprise.

“Courtesy of Jake.” He says with a little pride blooming in his cheeks.

“Jake?”

“He runs The Tispy Bison. He sees me right.” He tries not to smirk smugly.

“Is that because you’re his dealer or something?” You titter.

Joel baulks. “I might do him some favours when I’m on a run.”

“Mmhm. Is this focaccia?” You gasp, taking the tupperware box, opening it and inhaling the freshly baked scent of flour, rosemary and oils.

“Dunno, s’different each time.”

“Well. Jake might just be my new favourite person.” You say, grinning as the scent of the bread makes your mouth salivate.

“Hm. Next time you can spend five days gettin’ cosy with Jake then.” Joel gruffs, the frown returning, but his mirth still remains.

You watch Joel take the bucket and open the shack door. “Gonna give the horses a drink.”

He closes the door, but not before you catch his dark, chocolate eyes glancing back at you.

Out in the stable, Joel strokes down the mare gently whilst she drinks from the bucket hanging on a tough metal peg.

He loses himself in the feel of her coat for a while, focusing in on that silky smoothness over his rough fingertips and he runs them up and down.

The stallion eats from the corner, chewing as he tugs hay from the bale with big, glassy black eyes.

Joel’s mind wanders from the stable to inside the shack where you are. If he listens real carefully, and presses himself up against the far wall closest to the shack, he could probably hear you clanking about with the pans.

He could probably hear you mutter obscenities at the stove as you struggle to get the wood to catch light. He’d probably rest his large palm against the coarse wood, reaching out as though he was touching you.

God, he wants to touch you so badly. Convince himself that you're real.

He wonders if you would feel it; sense him here, listening to the music of you as it pollutes his head and stuffs up his senses, only but a mere few steps away.

So close, yet so fucking far from his reach.

Joel takes his hand off the wood and steps back; shaking his head and muttering curses of his own to himself for being so damn foolish.

He steps back to the mare who snuffles at him and he gets back to stroking her down. Her large head knocks against his arm and Joel wonders for a moment if it’s her way of telling him to grow a pair and get back in there.

Get back to you.

He calms her with a soothing shush and strokes over her ears, winding the velvet of them gently through his thick fingers as she snuffles again.

“You’re just as sweet as May, aren’t ya, darlin’?” He coos to her and the horse puts her mouth back in the bucket leaving Joel to contemplate and to just think some more.

Thinking has always been his worst enemy, deducing that he probably does it far too much for his own good. Often, the thinking is what talks him out of things, calms the recklessness that used to run in his blood during his wily youth.

Thinking is what stops him from unleashing the ire on a daily basis now. And he’s not sure anymore if that’s a good or bad thing.

He scratches at his temple and his fingers run the familiar pattern of the scar there. It stops all thinking for a moment as his tips notch over the puckered skin.

Just leaves him that stabbing feeling that starts at the bottom of his heart until it eventually takes over his beating muscle and renders him frozen, incapacitated for a few short moments as he remembers raising the gun to his temple in his darkest moment.

Joel wonders why it is that he never died; why it is that he flinched when he pulled the trigger. He should have died a long time ago, should be with Sarah now holding her close and smelling the coconut shampoo in her hair that he misses more than anything in this fucking cruel world.

Joel deduces that thinking probably talked him out of that too. That, somewhere, in the back of his foggy brain that could often chatter insidiously at him for hours - so much so that he had to resort to numbing out the noise with booze and pills just to get some simple shut eye sometimes - a small voice talked him down off that ledge.

But he wonders why it has, every day since. What was the point if not to taunt him with his losses?

He’d said to Ellie that he was glad he hadn’t. And he’d meant it. But Ellie was gone, her time between visits getting longer and he knows it’s because he tried to do right by her, even if it backfired in his face later when she discovered his dishonesty.

That voice that told him to fight for her as he gunned everyone down in that hospital selfishly. Point, shoot. Point, shoot.

The thinking had quelled then, a calm just leaving him to go stoically postal as he pointed and shot at targets; a quiet white noise filling his ears until Ellie was back in his arms and he could hear again.

And now she’s not.

Joel Miller is a loser; he's continually losing the people that matter the most to him. That has to be it, he thinks.

He looks down at his hands; two large paws that are weathered and worn, calloused and rough. Index fingers with split skin and a liver spot here or there that never used to be. Prominent veins that ridge and thumbs that always annoy him with their stubbiness, getting in the way of practicality at times.

Working hands that were once strong and built things, but now tremble and shake uncontrollably at times. Strong hands that fail to be able to hold onto anyone that he cares for anymore. He’d let go of Sarah, he’d let go of Tess. He’d let go of Ellie.

And he had let go of you.

Joel squeezes his fists shut, breathing in through a choke that rasps out at the back of his throat. That shit makes his chest burn and he can’t breathe anymore. It takes his breath from him as he tries to suck in oxygen that he can’t quite catch in the air.

He can feel his blood beginning to boil rapidly with the heat rising within him. Clarity is being lost to him and emotion - savage, raw emotion - is beginning to take hold as it creeps up his spine.

Please, stop.

He puffs in deeply a few times, sinking to his knees and breathing his way through it. Refusing to relent, refusing to let it take him.

But it always does. It’s stronger than him.

He feels it then, as it mutates from anger into sheer blinding panic crippling him in seconds; that all too familiar freezing grip tightening around his ventricles and muscles as he tries to regain his composure that’s stripped from him. He’s reduced to naked, quivering flesh in a matter of seconds.

He tries to remember to breathe as it ices his teeth shut. But all rational thought is swallowed up like it always is. All he can hear is his blood pumping -thump-thump-thump-thump- and then that tiny little voice -thump-thump-thump-thump- that slithers out from the dark again.

You’re dying, the voice says. This is what death feels like, and you’re going to die alone, Joel.

-Thump-thump-thump-thump-

He grabs at his chest, closing his eyes; hearing nothing but steam rolling through his ears. And for a few moments, he relives his personal Hell over and over.

He’s dizzy, falling forward on all fours as he rides it out; the horses are the only witnesses to his sinking, to his drowning right before them. They can’t save him, no-one can.

The mare brays, calling out to him to come back, but it's swallowed up in the panic as he sinks and flows away.

Once he does come back, when the ice eventually melts and his heart relaxes, he realises he’s still in it. Trapped in a living Hell that relents on and on.

He didn’t die, no - he’s still fucking here.

Joel breathes tightly, feeling the raw scrape in the back of his throat as he sits back on his ankles.

His hands run through his hair that feels matted with sweat, dripping damp around the back of his collar, and he's past the stage where he wants to yank it all out in agony.

It takes him two attempts to stand, cursing at his fucking knee that still pulls tight just to spite him, and once he's upright, he pats the mare on the side assuringly. Her silk anchors him back to reality as he convinces himself that he’s here.

As he turns, Joel sees your shadow moving forward in the doorway; your voice echoing in, and he stops dead, wide eyed.

“...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food anyway these days…” you say, and you eye him carefully noting how paler he looks. “You alright?”

Joel stares at you, wondering if you just witnessed him falling apart, wonders what you’d make of it and searching your eyes frantically for any pity.

He can take you hating him - he wonders if you do, and wouldn't hold it against you, because he hates himself - but he can’t take your pity. That would be the final death of him.

“M’fine.” Joel replies through a swallowed wheeze, and passes you, heading back into the shack.

Nine Years Ago...

It feels soft and it’s a sensation that pulls your attention for a moment. Diverts you out and away from the suffocating void.

It shouldn’t feel like that, surely? Not after all this time. Coarse, hardened, maybe. But not soft.

You watch as he winds the long, soft layers of the clean bandage around your wrist. It hurts less now, the sting. But you’ve been numb for a while.

He tucks it in place, his hands applying light pressure around it as he fires off gentle commands around you. Your mouth is lead, your head is empty. A couple of pairs of eyes hover behind him, their silence deafening.

He instructs them to fetch some more water and he instructs you to drink it, but you don’t. Or at least you can't remember if you do. You look down at your wrist. It feels so soft.

He doesn’t question you. He doesn't look at you to make you feel even more shitty than you already do. He doesn’t feel sorry for you.

He’s just... patient.

He stays with you, night and day. Doesn’t leave your side, which is equal parts infuriating as well as terrifyingly comforting. You loathe him, with every fibre of your being for what he did. For what he does.

For how he keeps you alive and fighting.

He assists you, when you need it most. When you need it intimately, without disgust, without hesitation. Taking a shit is difficult with only one working hand.

You fucked up, cut too deep.

Your wrist aches from the damage to the tendons. Years later you’ll still feel that ache, when it gets cold. When you overexert yourself. A constant reminder of your epic failure. A single finger blessed permanently numb and tingly forever. You envy it.

It'll get better. Give it time, he says. Give it patience. But you have none of those things anymore. Not even pain.

It's all numbed out, washed away.

He holds you whilst you cry, when you try to push him away, when you let out all of that anger, all of that fury onto him in short bursts.

He takes it. He absorbs it. He’ll bruise under his eye, but he takes it from you.

Until you have nothing more to give.

And then you sleep. For days. You wake up in his arms, it’s hot. Stifling. You haven’t showered, maybe in weeks. But he still holds you close, unperturbed by your foul smells.

You’re not even sure when the last time it was that you ate. You’re not even sure where you are anymore. Who you are anymore.

There's more of you, new faces you haven't met yet. Names you can't remember. He tells you them, introduces you as something you're not. You think you smile, agree with him. Reassure them like he does that they're safe now. That you'll protect them.

Days turn into weeks at an incomprehensible blur. Weeks into months, and it’s not until you’re both out with a small group hunting, laying snares for wild rabbits, that you finally talk about it.

“I didn't want to be here, just for this.” You murmur. Anything but this.

Kelper stops and looks at you. “Too late. This is all we have now.”

You walk on, your gun lowered as you trample over dead branches, leaves. Everything is dead now. It's been a harsh winter. Freezing. And you're just so fucking tired of not feeling any of it.

“I can't sanction your inherent stupidity. I can empathise with it.” He says, following behind. “But you don’t get to do that. Not on my watch.”

“You had no right.” You scoff. "It was my choice, not yours."

“Fuck you.”

You stop and turn to him. His eyes are focused, a frown crushes them. Kelper's face is unrecognisable. You've not met this Kelper before.

“Fuck you.” he says again, a growl to his voice. “Don’t be so selfish.”

You shake your head.

“You don’t get to check out. Not when…” He wipes at his face with his palm quickly. “You owe it to yourself to fight. To keep fucking going.”

“There’s nothing left to keep going for. Your delusion is misplaced, Kelper. It always has been.” You murmur.

He steps closer to you. His voice is a soft, muted sigh, expressing a gentle annoyance now for this new found situation. He never gets fully angry and you wonder what it would take to see him implode like a sun. His devastation would be glorious.

“You know that’s not true. That’s the fear talking.” Kelper says and shakes his head. “We endure and we fucking survive. For each other. This world isn’t done with us. It’s chaotic. It fucking hurts, I know it does. It's rotten, right down to the core. But it has more to offer. It's has to..." He sighs.

His eyes water, but he blinks it away quickly. "They need you."

"No they don't." You say.

"I need you, Goose. I can't do this without you. I don't want to do this without you.” Kelper says.

You gulp. Then your lips crash into his. He kisses you back, if but for a weak, selfish moment as a sob escapes you and into his mouth.

It's been so long since you've felt anything warm. And his lips are warm, his tongue. And like a moth to a flame, you want him to burn you alive. Immolate your entire being to ash and dust.

Kelper pushes you back gently as you gasp.

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, clutching back onto him. Feeling foolish, feeling relieved that you finally feel something again, even if it is embarrassment.

He smiles and shakes his head. “It’s a shame you don’t have a cock, otherwise I’d be all over that.”

Kelper sighs, pulling you into his chest. He wears a ring around his neck. The most delicate, fragile thing about him, with a tiny, blue sapphire embedded into the metal. A symbol of his own fragility and losses.

It pushes against your clavicle and leaves an indent in your skin, long after he pulls away.

You smile, and then a snuffle of laughter escapes your mouth. He laughs too.

“I’m never leaving you. And you’re not ever leaving me, okay?” His eyes bore into yours, hollowing you out from the inside. "I fucking love you, you got that?" He jabs his finger gently onto the side of your skull.

You know its futile to fight it anymore. To resist. His belief is a parasite worming its way in to your gullet and feeding, getting fatter. He's right, this world isn't done. It can't be. Every day that you're alive is a day to make it better. A day to find a purpose, to find hope.

You know these words, the mantras, as you try to pick through and unjumble them again. To see the clarity in them that you know is there. You felt it once before, you can again, right?

To endure and survive, long after this world has changed.

He saved you. Three years later you'd return the favour. And you'd have this conversation again. Only then, you'll believe the conviction behind these words, these ideals, as you tell him, yell at him, what he's just told you, as you keep his lifeforce inside of his skin to fight another day with you.

They need you! I need you, Maverick!

This is how you'll save him. This is how he saves you. This is why you endure and survive.

You nod at Kelper and you both clutch on to one another. “Okay." You breathe.

You run your finger up and down the raised, smooth track of the scar; your sleeve rolled up as you stop stirring the pot of the savoury, and somewhat overbearingly salty, smelling canned meat that’s simmering slowly on the stove.

The skin feels different, it’s healed over, physically. Thicker. Thicker skin. Impenetrable.

It pulls you out of your reverie back to the present day. He’ll be alright. You chant internally. He’ll be fine. It’s five days, get a grip.

Your attention is diverted by the sound of one of the horses braying gently outside, and you stir the contents again, pulling down your sleeve.

You serve up the bread on some chipped plates, breaking some off the loaf between you. You inhale the scents and it takes you back to another life; a life that was simplistic in its mundane joy.

A time when a broken heart was the only thing to fear in the dark.

You realise Joel has been gone for a little while as the stew bubbles sticky in the pan.

“Joel?” You call out gently.

You wander out towards the stable when you get no response, and he hasn’t returned.

You call out to him again en route. “...I came to see where you’d got to. Food’s almost ready, or what we're passing off for food these days…” you say, with a slight mirth clacking around your teeth.

The scents of the stew can be smelt in your hair, your clothes. That and the firewood. Your stomach rumbles, but you’re not sure if it’s from hunger or the fact that it’s been tossed around on an emotional rollercoaster all day.

You stop as you round into the stable and see Joel staring at you, a little wide-eyed and sweaty in his hairline.

“You alright?” You query, eyeing him carefully.

He stares back at you with a peculiar look; some furtive panic swelling around his eyeballs. He seems heavier somehow, like he’s being crushed.

He snaps out of it; the frown returning in its rightful place and then his eyes drop away from yours. He wipes his hands down on the back of his jeans listlessly and steps forward, past you, leaving a cold prickle blooming on your skin.

“M’fine.” Joel replies.

To be continued...

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