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Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed
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Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed.
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Series warnings; violence, cults? mature themes, swearing i guess?torture, rape, canon movie violence. religious guilt? eventual smut, death, mental illness
Previous Chapter here
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15 years after the initial outbreak
Jimmy had always hated mornings; the voices were quietest then. The silence gave him hope. Hope he learned, was dangerous; it convinced him, every single dawn, that maybe today would be different. Maybe today they wouldn’t come back.
He woke before the birds that morning. The barn they’d found refuge in was wrapped in darkness; the only light were the dying embers of last nights fire, the flames casting just enough light over the stone walls, painting them in a soft orange hue.
For a moment, everything was still. Jimmy lay where he was, listening, not trusting the sense of peace he felt as his mind remained clear. There was nothing; no whispers, no murmurs, no cruel laughter. Only the sound of Y/N’s steady breathing a few feet away.
His shoulders relaxed, eyes closing before he could stop them, “Aye,” he whispered to himself, “Jus let taeday be quiet, ey?”
He turned his head towards Y/N then; she was still asleep, curled tightly beneath her sleeping bag, loose strands of hair covering part of her face, lips set in a frown.
Jimmy smiled, she always frowned in her sleep, like even unconscious, she still disagreed with something.
“Wee angry hamster,” he murmured, “ye’d kill me if he heard that.”
She mumbled something then; words entirely unintelligible, her frown deepening in sleep.
Jimmy’s heart warmed despite itself. She looked safe.
“She is safe, ye mad bastard.” He mumbled to himself. He stood quietly, brushing the hair back from her face lightly. She stirred then, eyes fluttering open slightly, still heavy with sleep, “Jimmy?”
“Shhh. Go back tae sleep, lass.” He murmured, voice feather light. He smiled as she nodded, eyes heavy again as she buried herself deeper into her sleeping bag.
The cottage door creaked softly as he stepped outside; morning mist rolled lazily across the valley, grey clouds hung high in the sky, small slithers of morning sun peaking out behind them. Dew clinging to each blade of grass.
Jimmy breathed deeply, the cold morning air filling his lungs. Birdsong hadn’t arrived yet, even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the silence.
This was the part he liked the most; before the world remembered itself. Before his own mind remembered itself.
He crouched to gather wood; one piece, then another, then two more: routine. Routine meant thinking less, routine meant filling his mind with simple things. Routine meant keeping the voices at bay.
He brought he gathered wood back into the cottage, steps light as not to wake Y/N; placing the gathered wood over the dying embers of the fire, striking a flint once, twice, three times. Tiny sparks danced against dry moss and wood; a small, thin thread of smoke curling upwards towards the ceiling.
“There ye are,” he whispered, his voice barely carrying.
The flames answered with a gentle crackle. Jimmy watched it grow, watched it breathe; the only sound present was the dancing flames, Y/N’s soft breathing, and his own heart beating. He watched the fire for a few moments, and then he heard it.
“Jimmy,” his hands froze. Please not yet.
His eyes squeezed shut; the fire continuing to crackled. “Jimmy,” the voice came again, closer this time, almost affectionate. “Naw,” he breathed.
The voice didn’t answer. His breathing steadying again. “Aye. Am jus’ tired.” he whispered to himself.
He stood then, picking up the small gas kettle. He walked back out the cottage door, down towards the stream: routine.
“Son.” Jimmy stopped, ever muscle in his body locking. The voice hadn’t come from behind him; nor had it come from beside him. It had come from everywhere. Like somebody was speaking directly into his thoughts.
His grip tightened around the kettle, “Shut up.”
He waited for the voice to reply and was met once again with silence, his heart hammering.
The stream bubbled over smooth stone; Jimmy knelt to fill the kettle. Cold water numbed his fingers tips; the feel of it grounding, real. He concentrated on that; the weight of the water, the temperature, the sound of it; anything he knew was real. Things that couldn’t lie.
“James,” sounded the voice, his breath caught then. His father’s voice; warm, patient, waiting; exactly as he’d remembered. Jimmy shut his eyes so tightly it hurt, “Ye’re no’ real.”
The stream continued to flow; water running deep over stone. Birds finally began singing somewhere over the trees. Jimmy opened his eyes, his own reflection wavering across the water. Pale. Tired. Then the voice came again, “it’s easier if ye listen.”
Jimmy lurched backwards so violently he nearly fell into the stream, hands shaking
“No. “ The word came out louder than he’d intended; his breathing accelerated as he screwed his eyes shut again.
The voice didn’t answer; instead came another one. Lighter, higher, childlike. A little girls laugh. His chest tightened painfully. One of his sisters. He couldn’t remember which one. God; he couldn’t remember.
His stomach turned. He knew her face. Didn’t he?
“Jimmy!” Another laugh the sound of running footsteps. Children playing, laughing. The warmth of sunlight. The distant cry of church bells. Teletubbies; his mum shouting that breakfast was ready, his dad laughing. The smell of toast, the warmth of summer.
Then came the screaming; so much screaming. The memories twisting themselves together without warning. Church pews covered in blood; his father’s trembling hands pressing the cross into his palm.
“STOP!” his shout ripped through the silent valley, birds exploding out of the trees at the sound; the kettle slipped from his grip, crashing against the rocks below.
Jimmy bent forward sharply, hands pressed over his ears; jaw tight, eyes clenched shut. The voices didn’t stop, his breathing ragged.
His whole body trembling. Then a softer voice, real, close enough behind him to know it wasn’t imagined, Y/N
“Jimmy?”
Jimmy’s eyes slowly opened, His breathing caught. He didn’t turn around; he couldn’t. Because he already knew what she’d seen. And for the first time since they’d met; Jimmy Crystal was ashamed to let her look at him.
“Jimmy?” she called again; softer now. He still couldn’t turn around; his body locked in refusal. The shame settled heavier than the fear ever had. He heard her boots against the damp earth behind him; slow, deliberate like she was approaching a wild animal.
Every instinct screamed at him to tell her to leave; to walk away while she still could. Before she realised exactly what travelling beside him truly meant. Years later, he would wish that he did.
His breathing remained uneven as he spoke, still refusing to look at her, “Ye shouldnae have seen that.” His voice sounded small.
The stream continued rushing over smooth stones between them. Somewhere overhead, a pigeon called into the morning air.
“I wasn’t trying to.” she said gently, “I heard you shout.”
Jimmy laughed once; dry and humourless, “Aye.” He stared at the water before continuing, “Sorry.”
Her brow furrowed, “What are you apologising for?”
He shrugged, “ruining tha’ morning.”
She almost smiled then, “You think that’s what I’m upset about?”
He didn’t know; he wasn’t entirely sure what normal people found upsetting anymore.
Y/N came to stand beside him; not too close, but close enough that if he wanted to, their shoulders would touch.
She looked st him once, then out across towards the stream, giving him somewhere else to put his eyes. It was deliberate, Jimmy noticed; of course he noticed.
“Ye don’t have tae look at me.” His words barely rose above a whisper.
She tilted her head, “Why?”
“’Cause,” He swallowed, “Am no’ exactly pleasant tae look at right now.”
She glanced at him then, eyes softening before looking back to the stream, “You look tired.”
He huffed quietly, “Tha’s one way o’ putting it.”
She waited then for him to continue; giving him the space to decide what he wanted to share. She never forced words out of people. She simply waited until they were ready to speak . And somehow, that was worse. Because Jimmy would find himself filling the silence.
“They’re gettin’ louder.” The admission hung between them. He swallowed once, rubbing both hands across his face before continuing, “When it first started,” He laughed softly, “It was only every now an’ then.” His eyes remained fixed on the stream, “Bad days mostly.” His jaw tightened, “After… after seeing things. I’d hear somebody call ma name, or somebody talking. “I knew it wisnae real. But now,” He couldn’t finish.
“But now?” Y/N implored
“I cannae always tell what’s real.”
The words settled heavily between them; Y/N felt her chest tighten.
“Do they always sound like people you knew?”
Jimmy nodded once, “Mostly.”
He looked away, “sometimes no’” His thumb rubbed absent circles over the cross at his neck, “Sometimes they’re nice. Tell me I’m doin’ good. An sometimes, sometimes they’re no’ as nice, tell me am meant fo’ more. That am better than whatever’s left o’ this world.”
Y/N softened, her head tilting as she spoke, “Do you believe them?”
He answered far too quickly, “Naw.”
Then; more honestly, “Sometimes.”
For several minutes neither of the them spoke; the silence filled by the sound of blackbirds and running water, wind whistling softly through the trees, then Jimmy spoke,
“I cannae always remember tha’ before. I keep trying tae remember, but the voices sound more real than the memories.” He finally looked at her then; pure fear sat behind his blue eyes, “What if one day, “ He swallowed hard, “I stop knowing tha’ difference?”
Y/N shifted closer to him then; Jimmy instinctively leaned back, not because he feared her, but because he feared what he was becoming.
He couldn’t meet her eyes.
“Jimmy.”
“Hm?”
“Look at me.”
He shook his head, “Naw.”
“Please?”
Very slowly, his head turned; eyes red, not from crying but from trying not to.
Y/N smiled at him, small, steady, “I know the difference.”
Jimmy frowned, “Wha’?”
She reached forward, resting two fingers against the gold cross at his chest, her other hand pressed over his heart,
“You.” Her fingers remained there, “This.” She smiled again, tapping the cloth over his heart, “The fire every morning.” She looked into his eyes, her own wet with emotion, “The way you always let me sleep longer and the way you keep pretending you don’t like sunsets.”
His lips twitched despite himself.
“You, here. You’re Just Jimmy. My Jimmy, not whatever the voice tells you to be.”
His forehead dropped to hers then, tears finally spilling as she held his head in her hands. He whispered so quietly she almost didn’t hear him, “Am tired, lass.”
Y/N’s face softened immediately, “I know.”
Jimmy pulled back to look at her then, “Ye’re no’ going tae leave?”
Y/N shook her head, tears spilling, a small sad smile spread across her features.
Jimmy searched her eyes and saw only truth, and for the first time in longer than Jimmy could remember; someone knew, really knew what he was underneath, and they hadn’t walked away. Years later, that would be both a blessing and a curse.
Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed.
Series warnings; violence, cults? mature themes, swearing i guess?torture, rape, canon movie violence. religious guilt? eventual smut, death, mental illness
The morning after came slowly; a gentle sigh of wind whistling through the trees, birdsong seemed quieter this morning; their song almost cautious, the call almost echoing through the trees. Mist clung low across the fields, drifting lazily over the hills.
The cottage they’d found refuge in sat silent beneath tall stretches of ivy; the roof almost intact; windows dirtied from the years left uncleaned, stone walls crumbling in some places, damp in others.
Y/N woke to silence. That was the first thing that felt wrong. There was no fire crackling, no muttered curses under Jimmy’s breath, no flirtatious greeting as she woke; just complete silence.
She frowned, pulling herself free from her sleeping bag as she rubbed at her eyes, “Jimmy?”
Silence was her response. Her stomach tightened, her heart pounding uneasily behind her ribs as she stood.
She pushed open the warped cottage door, cold morning air greeting her immediately. Outside, the world looked untouched; sunset spilled across the hills, wildflowers dancing lightly in the breeze; somewhere beyond the tree line a blackbird sang. The world seemed blissfully unaware of the blood-share of last night.
Her eyes found him almost immediately; he sat staring across the valley on an old stone wall, shoulders tense, posture tight like he was holding himself together. The knife he’d used last night sat across his lap; clean. The gold cross hung around his neck like always, fingers stroking idly over the pendant.
Y/N watched him for several seconds before she approached, “You look awful.”
Jimmy turned his head to face her; eyes immediately avoiding her gaze, “Aye.”
His voice sounded rougher than normal. She stilled then before taking tentative steps towards him until she was standing beside him.
“You been awake long?”
He shrugged once before speaking, “bout’ an hour.”
Y/N looked at him then; the dark circles under his eyes, the way his hair was pulled back from his face as if he’d spent hours raking his hands through it. Liar, she thought.
“Jimmy. How long have you been awake?”
Jimmy blinked, his gaze still avoiding her own as he shrugged.
Y/N sighed then, “You haven’t slept, have you?”
His jaw shifted then, “Naw.”
“Jimmy, you should have slept. You’re the one who tells me that sleep keeps you alive-“
“Aye, it does.”
“Then why didn’t you?” she asked, her eyes softening slightly as she looked at him.
Jimmy looked back across the valley then, “Didnae fancy it.”
She leaned against the wall beside him then; the morning breeze caught loose strands of her hair, pushing them across her face before she tucked them behind one ear,
“You’ve been here all night, haven’t you?”
Jimmy’s shoulders dropped just a fraction, head doing the same as he looked towards the tree line, “Aye.”
There was no joke; no grin; no attempt at flirting. She’d never heard him so quiet.
She shifted once before speaking, arms crossing over her chest as she spoke, “You could have woken me up.”
His eyes closed; fingers tightening around the cross at his neck, “Wanted ye tae sleep.”
Y/N watched him then; the way his shoulders tightened with invisible weight, eyes glancing over to the tree line above the hill.
“You keep looking over there, Jimmy.”
Jimmy blinked, “Wha’?”
“The trees.”
His eyes drifted there again before he realised she’d caught him. Silence settled again, the only sound between them was the sighing of the wind. Y/N spoke eventually, voice quiet as she did, “They’re dead, Jimmy. They can’t hurt me anymore.”
Jimmy’s jaw clenched as he spoke, eyes falling closed again, “I know.”
“So stop looking.”
Jimmy laughed once; it came out forced, just like air leaving his lungs, “I wish it were tha’ easy, lass.”
Breakfast was quiet; too quiet. No flirting, no insults, no bickering. Jimmy handed Y/N a tin without speaking; she accepted it in silence. Jimmy barely touched his own food. Instead he kept scanning the tree lines; shoulders tensed, jaw locked in a hardened expression.
Y/N noticed, she always noticed; because she was beginning to notice him.
She finished eating before standing, shouldering her pack as she spoke, “we should get moving.”
Jimmy was already on his feet before she’d finished speaking, “Aye.
He turned towards her then, eyes lingering over the bruising at her wrist, his expression darkening immediately, jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached from the force, “Does it hurt?”
She sighed, head tilting slightly as she spoke, “I’m fine.”
He nods once; falling into step beside her as they set off. Every few minutes he’d ask if she was okay, her answer the same every time.
When he’d asked her the same question for the fifteenth time she stopped walking, “Jimmy, I don’t need supervising. I’m fine, okay? I’m alright.”
Jimmy didn’t answer; his eyes had already drifted back to the trees.
As they walked further across the hills, the countryside unfolded around them. Nature had claimed almost everything now, telephone poles leaned almost drunkenly to one side, held in place by growing vines of ivy, tractors sat rusting in blossoming hawthorn, grass grew through cracked tarmac in thick green waves, butterflies danced over patches of foxglove growing through abandoned cars.
When they reached the top of the hill, Y/N slowed; an old swing hung from a sprawling oak tree, creaking gently in the wind. Jimmy kept walking, eyes still searching the tree lines.
“Jimmy?” She called lightly
“Wha’-“
“Look. It’s a swing, Jimmy.”
“I can see tha’, lass.”
Y/N smiled softly, “It still works.”
Jimmy looked confused, eyebrows knitted together, “Aye.”
He turned then, taking one step before she called his name again, “Come here.”
He sighed then dramatically, eyes closing in frustration, “Lass-“
“Just come here!”
He sighed again, walking back towards her, an eyebrow raised, “Am no’ getting on a swing.”
Y/N smiled then, “I didn’t ask you to. Just come here, stand beside me.”
Jimmy obeyed; the thought of saying no to her was too much to bear.
Y/N looked out across the valley; the swing swaying beside them, wildflowers stretching endlessly across the earth beneath the morning sun. For several seconds, neither of them spoke,
“Whit are we doin?” Jimmy asked.
“Looking.” She replied
“At what, lass?”
“Everything.”
Jimmy frowned in confusion, “Ave’ seen it.”
“No,” she shook her head gently then, eyes almost sad as she looked at him, “You’ve survived through it.”
His eyes drifted over the hills. The forests. The endless sea of green that now swallowed the old world whole.
“I don’t understand.” he whispered
She smiled sadly, “I know. That’s the thing, you always notice danger, you never stop notice beauty.”
Jimmy looked at her then, eyes soft with emotion, “I notice some.”
The breeze stirred again, his gaze turning away as he looked over the hills, birdsong echoed somewhere far below them.
Jimmy finally looked, really looked. Not for movement. Not for infected. Not for people. Just, looked
He noticed for the firs time in a long time the valley glowed beneath morning light, how the leaves shimmered. The way the mist rolled lazily through distant fields.
Life had continued. Without permission. Without apology.
He swallowed, “I’d have walked right past.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched again, wind blowing dried leaves into a current through the air.
Then Jimmy spoke so quietly she almost didn’t hear him, his eyes now locked on hers, “It’s beautiful.” His eyes never left hers as he spoke, “Ye make me notice things, lass- A mean, nevermind.” He turned then, clearing his throat, Y/N reached for his hand, holding his lightly in her own as she spoke,
“You make me notice things too, Jimmy.”
A comfortable silence set over them, wind whistling through the trees, hands still locked together as they stared across the hills. Y/N sighed once, closing her eyes as she spoke,
“This might be the first time you’ve breathed properly since last night.”
Jimmy looked away from the hills then, eyes searching her face as he spoke quietly, “I keep seeing it.”
Her voice softened, already knowing the answer, “Seeing what?”
His jaw tightened, “The hill. An’ I keep hearing ye’ screaming ma name.”
Y/N’s heart sank, eyes looking down to the entwined hands. Jimmy looked back towards the landscape as he spoke, “I shouldn’t have left ye.”
“Jimmy,” she breathed, “you saved me.”
He shook his head, eyes closing once more, “I nearly didnae.” His breathing had become uneven, “I heard ye,” He swallowed hard, “Thought-”
Jimmy dropped her hand then, the words refusing to come; his hands clenching so hard his knuckles turned white, “I thought they’d got ye.” His voice cracked. “I couldnae…” He laughed once. Humourless. “I couldnae think.”
He closed his eyes again, tears welling as he spoke, “I was scared.” There it was. Not anger. Not guilt. Fear; raw and honest. “Ave’ never been tha scared.”
Y/N felt tears prick her eyes, unable to stop them as they fell. She reached across without really thinking, her fingers rested gently over his clenched fist.
Jimmy looked down, her hand warm over his own, then toward her, his breathing slowed, finger loosening to hold her hand again.
“I was scared too.”
He nodded, “Aye.”
Another silence settled; gentler this time.
She squeezed his hand once, “You found me.”
Jimmy looked at their hands, then towards her face; head tilting to one side as his eyes held her own
“I’ll always find ye. I promise ye, lass. I’ll always come back tae ye.”
Years later, when his mind was broken; that would be the one vow he’d never forget.
Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed.
Series warnings; violence, cults? mature themes, swearing i guess?torture, rape, canon movie violence. religious guilt? eventual smut, death, mental illness
The sun felt almost wrong now; not because it had changed, but because everything under it had done.
It still rose the same way with stubborn certainty, still spilled molten gold over woodlands and empty motorways; floating high above broken church spindles, still swallowing villages in breathtaking colour. It was almost cruel, as if nature hadn’t realised that mankind had all but vanished.
For Y/N, that contradiction was cruel; the sunlight still warmed her face, the light still caught in her hair. It still turned morning dew into scattered crystal across the overgrowth. Sometimes, if she closed her eyes, she could almost pretend she was in another life, only if for a minute. A world that was crowded with people, cafés full, horns beeping in traffic, the sound of children’s laughter. Then she’d open them again and find only silence stretching for miles. A cruel reminder that the world had moved on without them.
Jimmy saw it differently; to him, the sun wasn’t beautiful, it was useful. Useful in the way that meant he could see past the tree lines, eyes catching movement before the movement caught him. It meant warmth in bones that ached after another freezing night curled against a ruined wall. Sunshine, to Jimmy, was survival. Nothing more.
That was until he met her.
Every now and then, when Jimmy didn’t think Y/N was looking, she’d catch him watching the evening sky. He’d watch the way orange bled into crimson, the way violet hues swallowed the horizon, the way the clouds moved before fading into darkness.
His expression always softened for a heartbeat before the mask slipped back into place.
“What ye starin’ at?” he’d mutter when he noticed her looking, lips curving with a smile, eyes soft as he looked at her.
She’d soften too, eyes lingering over him as she spoke, “The sunset.”
Jimmy would sigh, eyes shifting, voice gruff, “It’s just the sun gaun tae bed.”
“It’s beautiful.” She’d implore.
Jimmy would snort, eyes still soft, face somewhat stoic, “It’s a big fiery ball. Dinnae get sentimental.”
She’d smile to herself, “You looked first.”
“I wis checkin’ the weather.”
“Liar.” She’d laugh, eyes bright with content.
“Aye.” He’d mutter, head tilting as he looked at her; the light of the sunset casting a soft hue over her face, beautiful, he’d think to himself.
He’d deflect because the truth was too much for Jimmy to admit out loud; sunset meant that with endless certainty they’d survived another day together, which meant that when the sun rose again in the morning, he would spend another day surviving alongside her. Jimmy would never take it for granted for as long as he lived.
It was under the soft light of sunset that it happened, the air warmer than it had been on previous days. They’d spent the day scavenging in the same comfortable rhythm they had become accustomed to over the last few months; the weather now changing with the coming season.
Jimmy swore as he tripped over a tree root, Y/N biting back a laugh and failing, stopping so she wouldn’t do the same.
“Are ye laughing at me?” Jimmy asked, whipping round to face her, blonde hair caught over his face in an almost perfect frame.
Y/N stood, lips pursed as she tried to control her laughter, “For a man who prides himself on survival, you’re awfully clumsy when it comes to tree roots.”
Jimmy stilled, the rabbit he’d caught earlier swinging by his side, “Aye. Keep laughing, not like I’m the reason we’re eating tae’night or nothin’.”
Y/N could only smile, lips curved in an almost mischievous grin, “Touché. You’re also the reason it’s nearly dark out and we haven’t decided where we’re camping for the night. How long did it take to catch that rabbit again? Two, nearly three hours?”
Jimmy’s face fell, the grin now replaced with annoyance. Y/N laughed again as his features contorted into the expression,
“Careful, lass. If ye want tae eat, I suggest ye choose yer next words carefully.” There was no real malice behind the words, just a light, almost too familiar teasing.
Y/N looked at him then, eyes bright, mouth uplifted in the same teasing smile. “You going to sort out the accommodation as well, Jimmy? Or are we making reservations in the creek?”
Jimmy said nothing, just turned in the opposite direction and started walking, pausing to call over his shoulder at her, eyes still glimmering with the familiar softness he possessed whenever he looked at her. “We’re losing daylight. C’mon.”
She only laughed, following behind him in contentment for a few minutes before he paused again, hand raised in communication, a simple signal: wait.
Jimmy turned to face her then, eyes glimmering with an almost kind of joy. “Old farmhouse ahead. I’m gonna go check, ye sh-“
Y/N interrupted him then, rolling her eyes as she huffed. “You’re asking me to stay here. And let me guess, you’ll just be a minute, right? And I should stay put?”
Jimmy could only grin. “Aye.”
“And I should absolutely not move?”
“Aye.”
She smiled sweetly, then in mock agreement her head tilted. “I’m going to move.”
Jimmy sighed like he expected the answer, eyes closing briefly in annoyance, jaw tightening slightly. “Dinnae be stupid.”
“That’s rich coming from you.”
Jimmy paused, swallowing lightly. “Just stay where I can see ye, deal?”
It wasn’t a request. But it wasn’t quite an order either. Something in between; something softer underneath, something that said, I need to know you’re safe.
He turned then, disappearing down the hill; his heart beating wildly with every step that he took away from her.
Y/N stood watching him leave. At first, everything seemed fine. The kind of fine that made you suspicious. For a while, she could still hear the faint rustle of Jimmy moving through the undergrowth. Occasional snaps of branches. A bird lifting off; the sound of its wings flapping wildly against the wind. Normal sounds; comforting, even. Then the silence stretched for what felt like a lifetime; sunset now nearly completely gone, low light offering little sight; the sky a thick orange, molten with slithers of red and pink.
After thirty minutes, she sighed, the worry clawing its way up her throat. She began moving towards the hill where Jimmy had disappeared, “Honestly,” she muttered to herself, “I swear he always—”
A twig snapping behind her cut through everything; not in the dramatic sense, just wrong. Too wrong. She froze, heart racing as she turned towards the sound: nothing. The forest behind her stretched empty, the hills swallowed by trees. She exhaled, breath quickening as she raised her knife.
“Okay,” she whispered to herself, “don’t be dramatic.”
Then came the sound again; louder this time, closer. Her mind reacted before her body did, heart already climbing in her throat, hands shaking ever so slightly with the rising fear.
“Hello?” she called, instantly hating herself for it.
There was a silence that stretched; the only sound she could hear was the hammering of her own heart and the blood rushing in her ears. Then, movement.
Too many footsteps at once; almost like they’d been there the whole time. Not infected. Human.
Men: four of them. Her stomach dropped. This was worse than infected, worse in a different way.
They spread out slowly, like they had all the time in the world; eyeing her like prey.
One of them smiled when he saw her; that was worse than anything else.
“Well, look what we’ve got here.” He crooned, eyes alive with a sickening kind of hunger.
Y/N stepped back without thinking; a stone wall hit her calves. She was trapped.
She stilled, lifting her knife. It looked smaller than it ever had before, God, she thought suddenly, Jimmy was right.
“Don’t come any closer,” she meant for it to come out as a demand, but the shake in her voice was borderline pleading.
The man only laughed, stepping closer with a smile, “Or what?”
Another of them stepped forward, tall, scrawny, eyes flicking over her like she was something already owned.
“She alone?”
Y/N’s throat tightened, her heart beating so wildly it was making her dizzy. “fuck off.”
The first man tilted his head.
“You always this mouthy?”
Her hand was shaking now. Not from fear of dying, but from the almost terrifying realisation that if anything were to happen, she might not get the chance to fight back properly.
She shifted her weight, knife raised. The man saw it immediately.
“Grab her.”
It happened fast; too fast. A hand caught her wrist before she could fight it. She swung her knife wildly, catching air instead of flesh. Someone slammed into her side, the wind knocked out of her in one painful burst as she fell. Her knife hit the ground. “No!”
She tried scrambling to get it before a boot came down on her wrist; hard. Another set of hands grabbed at her hair, pain shooting through her scalp.
“Got her,” one of them beamed.
“Hold her still. Don’t mark her face.” The first one muttered.
Her blood went cold. Eyes burning with tears she refused to spill.
“Jimmy!” she shouted before she could stop. It came out raw, not theatrical, not particularly articulated, just instinct. A mistake. Because now they realised she wasn’t alone.
The man holding her hair tightened his grip, yanking her head to face him. “No one’s saving you, love.”
She stared at him, eyes blown wide in panic, but her voice was strong and sure, “You don’t know what you’re up against.”
The sound that came from the tree lines wasn’t footsteps. It was rage wrapped up in fear.
One moment the man was gripping her hair, then the next a knife was thrown directly into the middle of his skull; his grip loosened, mouth gurgling with blood, eyes wide in shock, eyes blinking subconsciously as they searched her face for an answer. Y/N could only watch as Jimmy all but arrived in a blur of motion through bush and drying ground; his eyes dark like he wasn’t quite there. The second man made the mistake of trying to charge at him; Jimmy caught his wrist before twisting it mid-swing; bone snapping with a sound that Y/N could barely stomach. He screamed, silenced seconds later by a knife to the skull.
The third man backed away as Jimmy charged at him, arms outstretched as he plead, “Mate, please. C’mon, I-I didn’t-“ the sound was cut off as his neck was slashed open in one fluid motion; his head now barely attached as blood pooled around him on the ground; delicate wildflowers once purple and blue, now soaked crimson. The fourth man surrendered, dropping to his knees, hands pressed together in prayer, Jimmy laughed at the sight, his eyes searching the man’s face angrily as he spoke, head tilted, mocking the man as he did, “Why’re ye praying tae that daft shite for, ey? He’s no’ going tae save ye,” The man only cried harder, eyes closing just in time before Jimmy’s blade sank into his temple.
Y/N stayed slumped on the ground, breath too fast, staring at him. Her eyes wide.
Jimmy didn’t look at her at first; he checked the area, once, twice. Breath coming out in steady bursts, eyes still shadowed like his mind was somewhere else. It was only when Y/N made a small sound that his mind snapped back, his eyes found her, sharpening yet softening at the same time
“Are ye, hurt?”
She opened her mouth; nothing came out.
He stepped closer immediately, voice rough when he spoke, commanding almost, “Y/N. Lass, are ye hurt?”
He ever used her name like that. Ever.
“I’m— I’m fine,” she managed.
His jaw tightened, “Dinnae lie tae me.”
“I’m not—”
He crouched suddenly, checking her arms, her shoulders, her face like he was counting damage. He noted the bruising on her wrist, eyes darkening as his jaw clenched hard enough to grind his own teeth.
His hands were steady, but there was something underneath it; Something tight. Controlled.
“Did they touch ye?”
“I said I’m fine.”
“Did they—”
“I’m fine, Jimmy.”
That stopped him; not the answer, the tone.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and stood up, eyes closing before looking away for a second like he was trying to put himself back together.
Y/N noticed then that he was shaking. Barely, but enough that she saw the slight tremble in his hands, the way his jaw twitched, his lips set in a hard line; no trace of the familiar grin she’d learned to hold onto. It wasn’t from exertion; it was from restraint. It was from fear.
When he spoke again, his voice was lower. Different; full of emotion he refused to let surface, “Dinnae do that again.”
Her brows knit.
“Do what?”
“Call ma name.”
She stared at him, eyes wet with tears she hadn’t yet shed, “I was getting attacked.”
“Aye.”
She scoffed then, that familiar fire Jimmy had grown to love about her roared, “So I was supposed to—what? Politely suffer?”
He didn’t answer immediately. When he did, it wasn’t what she expected,
“Ye were supposed tae stay still.” It came out almost broken.
She didn’t soften though, she fought back with pure stubborn will, “Right, I’ll just remember that next time I’m being dragged away by strangers.”
His eyes snapped to hers, wild, burning with words he couldn’t say, “Dinnae,”
It wasn’t a warning; it was worse. It was fear trying not to become anger.
Jimmy didn’t say anything else; simply walked toward where her knife had fallen, picked it up and wiped the dirt from the blade. His eyes travelled over the bodies of the men he’d all but butchered. He looked away, handing the knife back to Y/N before shouldering his pack, walking back down towards the cottage, eyes locking onto hers over his shoulder; no words needed: Y/N stood, tears finally spilling as she followed behind him.
The walk was silent. Jimmy for the first time since Y/N met him, said nothing. He stayed close to her though, closer than he ever had before. Every time she slowed, he slowed. Every time she looked away, he checked behind them.
When she finally broke the silence, his head whipped toward her, the response hot on his breath, “I could have handled it.”
“No, ye couldnae.”
She bristled, “I-“
“ye got grabbed. That’s what ye did.”
She stopped walking, the anger rising in her chest, “So what, I’m useless now?”
Jimmy stopped walking then, turning to face her, eyes softening as his head tilted, “I heard ye scream. Thought I’d lost ye, lass.”
Every remark that she had swirling in her mind stopped, the words faltering as she tried to speak. Mouth closing, whispering his name like it hurt.
He held her gaze, his eyes burning with emotion, “Dinnae make me do that again,” he added, rougher this time.
They stared at each other, eyes bright with everything they didn’t say. Y/N could only nod, shifting closer to Jimmy as they walked down towards the cottage. Sunset long since gone: they’d survived another day, barely this time. One thing was clear in Jimmy’s mind though; he would burn the world if it meant he got another sunset with her.
Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed.
Series warnings; violence, cults? mature themes, swearing i guess?torture, rape, canon movie violence. religious guilt? eventual smut, death, mental illness
They’d been walking for weeks in the same soft rhythm they had come to accept as normal. Jimmy flirted, spoke of the things he remembered from before, Y/N humming forgotten tunes, turning any attempt at flirtation into insult but smiling nonetheless. Both of them comfortable enough in the silence when they ran out of things to talk about.
That was the first thing Y/N noticed every morning; the silence.
Not true silence, she was sure it was louder now than it ever was before, just absent of people. No traffic. No planes. No humming of distant motorways or screeching cars. Instead the world now was filled with wind loud enough to push through forests that have long since swallowed entire villages. Birds seemed louder than ever, calling to one another over empty fields. She noticed the way old buildings creaked as they walked past them, slowly collapsing under their own weight.
Roads barely existed anymore; motorways long since hidden by tall grass and wildflowers. Saplings now split through cracked tarmac, rusted cars sat exactly where they’d been left abandoned 15 years ago, doors hanging open like someone had left in a hurry; windows smashed, the insides filled with thick moss. Ivy was everywhere; climbing over buildings and outhouses, smothering the life that had once lived in them.
Every couple of miles was a reminder that civilisation didn’t leave voluntarily; it was consumed.
A child’s trainer laying in the middle of the road, worn by years of weather and dirt; an overturned bus growing its own ecosystem in the middle of the woods; a petrol station lay collapsed due to the weight of the vines that engulfed it; a supermarket trolley left half submerged in a pond that she was sure used to be a supermarket carpark.
Jimmy would rarely comment on any of it. He’d seen it for far too long and had long since accepted that this world was the new way of life. He’d notice though, how every time Y/N would look at things, her eyes would soften like she was looking at a life interrupted. It’s the same way she’d slow down when they’d pass through villages and he’d tell her not to linger; he’d often watch the way her face would change when she’d spot a child’s drawing on the wall of an abandoned cottage; the table still set like it was waiting for life to come home. She doesn’t always show it in a sad way. Sometimes it comes out as gentleness instead; she’ll psause to straighten something if it’s fallen over, even if it makes no difference. She’ll leave wildflowers over marked graves, even if nobody has had chance to do it in years.
For Jimmy, he saw it all as destruction; a world ripped away by pure will. He’d see the failings. Human failings; the loss of control and power. For him, the world was already reduced to its current rules: survive, move, avoid, assess the threat before the threat assesses you. The past is dangerous, mainly because it slows you down.
But there was something else that was beginning to consume Jimmy. He would notice how Y/N treats the world; because Jimmy notices her.
And every so often, when he thinks she isn’t looking, he’ll do something small; he’ll close the door on a ruined house so it’s less exposed, he’ll guide her past places he’s been without ever letting her know what’s inside, he’ll adjust small things when they look out of place no matter how hard his mind screamed at him that it was stupid. He’d do it for her.
Not because he’s detached from the reality of the new world; but because he’s seen what it’s cost to stay soft in a world like this, and he’s long since realised he’d die before letting her pay the same price.
It was late when she asked about the cross at his neck; they’d been travelling together for weeks, Jimmy learning the difference between a comfortable silence, and the silence that meant she was thinking too hard about something. He watched her through firelight; flames dancing over her face casting soft golden light, her brow creased in thought, hands resting on her lap.
“If ye think any harder, ye’re face is going tae stay that way forever. What’s on ye’re mind, lass?” he asked gently, lips curving into that familiar grin.
Y/N stilled; hands clasping tighter on her lap before she spoke, “It’s just, I’ve been thinking. I never really went to church, never really prayed or thought about any sort of God. And now I think that there can’t be one because surely if there was one, none of this would have happened, right? I mean, you- you wear that cross every second of the day and yet, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you pray.”
Jimmy’s gaze dropped from her own, his fingers pressing over the metal at his chest, shifting it between his fingers. He swallowed once before speaking, the words seeming to tumble out of him before he could stop them,
“It was my da’s. I was eight when all o’ this when outta whack,” his smile dropping as he spoke, “He was a vicar, lived right next tae the church.”
He cleared his throat then, almost as if the memory pained him, shifting slightly in his seat before continuing to speak, eyes still avoiding Y/N, “anyway, when the infected came, it was like he was leading them. Said tha’ the whole thing was judgment day. He gave me the cross, an’ I hid. Pressed it so hard in tae my hand. I hid because I was just a wee boy, terrified of wha’ was coming. I can remember bits of it, just before it happened. Telletubbies were playing. Me and ma’ sisters were watching it. Then me mam started shouting about locking the doors. Thing is- I never, I was never too good at being told wha’ tae do so I fled tae the church. Fer years I thought tha’ maybe if I could have just gotten us all there they’d have survived.”
He shook his head then; closing his eyes tightly trying to will the tears away. When he opened them, they were wet with unshed tears. His gaze turned towards Y/N then, her own eyes wet with emotion, “It’s daft really,” he said quickly as if trying to regain control over the moment, “it’s jus’ metal. Kept it on me at first outta’ habit. Then outta spite.”
Y/N tilts her head before speaking, brows knit together in sudden confusion, “Spite?”
“Aye.” His mouth twitches. “Worlds gone tae shite, everyone loses everything. And I’m no’ losing tha’ as well. Seemed like a good reason at the time.” He reaches for the cross again, turning it over between his fingers before he speaks again, eyes locked on Y/N as he does,
“But that’s no’ the truth anymore. Truth is,” the words don’t feel right in his mouth, like somebody else was speaking for him, “It’s the last thing he touched tha’ was meant for me. That I didnae have to take. Or steal. Or fight for. It was meant for me.”
Silence stretches; even the fire seems quieter between them. Jimmy speaks again, softer now, “If I take it off, I’m afraid I lose tha’ bit o’ me. The one who still remembers the before. When it’s on, it means that the voice in ma head is just nonsense.” There was no joke in it. No performance. Just truth.
Y/N could only nod; eyes softening as she looks at him. Jimmy clears his throat immediately, almost as if he regrets being honest,
“So aye,” he adds, lighter again, forcing it back into something he can stand. “It’s either sentimental nonsense or emotional cowardice. Sometimes it’s religious guilt. Depends wha’ mood I’m in.”
Y/N huffs a small laugh, rubbing away the unshed tears in her eyes before she speaks, “You’re still you, Jimmy. You don’t have to pretend to be anything else. Not with me at least.”
Jimmy stilled, shoulders dropping with the weight of her words, “Aye, lass. I know. Never with ye.”
The roar of the fire spoke loud enough to fill the silence. They sat across from each other, both felt lighter than they had done ten minutes ago. Jimmy realised then, that sometimes, things didn’t need fixing; they could remain broken whilst still standing, as long as they had the right support. That was something that he would still cling to years later when his mind was too broken to stay completely clear.
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Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed.
Series warnings; violence, cults? mature themes, swearing i guess?torture, rape, canon movie violence. religious guilt? eventual smut, death, mental illness
Something changed between them after that morning; not in the dramatic sense that suddenly meant anything more than companionship, but there was something softer between them.
Jimmy Crystal had learnt what it felt like to be alone, and the realisation that having somebody else to talk to that wasn’t a voice inside his own mind made him feel almost human again. He sat perched on a log, stick in hand poking at the fire; it had become his responsibility, or at least he’d told himself so.
He watched as Y/N slept, her face contorting in sleep, lips pursed, eyebrows knitting together before she made a small sound of disapproval. Jimmy continued to watch, lips curving into a small, genuine smile as she woke, pushing the hair from her face, groaning before opening her eyes.
Jimmy laughed, just loud enough that she couldn’t ignore it,
“Och, ye should see yer face,” he crooned, standing to shoulder his rucksack, stick falling back into the flames. “Thought ye’d swallowed a wasp, lass.”
Y/N’s gaze trailed over to him, lips pressed into a thin line, choosing her next words carefully, “I was trying to dream about somewhere where I couldn’t hear your voice.”
Jimmy barked a laugh, slightly rough around the edges as he shook his head, “Och, that’s cruel.”
Y/N yawned, arms stretching out above her head before she stood, “It was peaceful.”
Jimmy only grinned wider, dousing out the fire as he shifted his backpack, “Ye’d miss me.”
Y/N glared at him then, a small smile tugging at her lips as she spoke, “I’ve survived without you this long. I’m sure I’d manage.”
Jimmy’s smile faltered ever so slightly, eyes softening as he spoke, “Aye. Ye prolly would.”
By midday, the pair had covered several miles of woodland, following animal tracks rather than old roads. They walked in a comfortable silence for the most part. Y/N had stopped asking Jimmy how he always seemed to know where they were going, she concluded after she’d asked him for fourth time that morning that he just knew. It was irritating. Almost as irritating as him. But oddly comforting; just like him. Her brows furrowed at the thought.
“Ye know,” Jimmy called over his shoulder, “if ye smiled more, ye’d frighten folk less.”
She raised an eyebrow, eyes glancing towards his face, “There aren’t any people to frighten, Jimmy.”
Jimmy nodded, “Aye.”
Y/N held his gaze, “So who am I frightening?”
Jimmy paused, lips curling into that small crooked grin, “Me.”
She laughed then, eyes falling closed. Jimmy watched, his chest tightening with a strange sensation. She was beautiful like this, laughing, relaxed, almost free. He swallowed the thought, head turning away as she spoke, “I’ll treasure that.”
Jimmy could only nod, eyes closing when she couldn’t see, “Aye.”
The afternoon passed in the same kind of rhythm, Jimmy teasing her whenever he could, eyes lingering a little too long whenever she laughed.
When she stumbled lightly over a log or a root-
“Careful, princess.”
Y/N would still, chin upturned, “I’m going to throw you into the river.”
Jimmy would laugh lightly, hand outstretching to steady her, “Ye’d miss me too much.”
“I’d sleep better.”
When she rolled her eyes at him for tenth time that day, “Careful, they’ll get stuck like that.”
“I live in hope that they get stuck facing away from you, Jimmy.”
Even when she sighed,
“Och, ye’re sighing again.”
“I do every time you speak.”
Jimmy would grin; Y/N would pretend to be irritated, but her stomach would tighten, her heart beating just a little bit faster when he looked at her.
Near sunset, they came across an abandoned orchard; the apple trees had grown wild over the years, branches hanging low and heavy with fruit.
Y/N watched as Jimmy reached up, plucking an apple free from the overhang, rubbing it once against his sleeve before he tossed it towards her. She caught it one handed, eyes light as she looked towards him,
“I checked fer worms,” he said, eyes soft as he tilted his head.
“How thoughtful.”
“I’m nothing if no’ romantic.”
She ignored him, hiding a small laugh as she bit into the apple, face contorting as she chewed, “It’s sour.”
Jimmy only smiled, “aye. so are you, lass.”
Y/N froze, her face setting back into that familiar frown before throwing the apple at Jimmy’s head; he caught it, laughing, Y/N doing the same as she watched him nearly trip over the tree root.
“Tha’ was cruel,” he said, finger pointing at her with accusation; his face soft, eyes even softer.
Y/N found herself watching him more as the days stretched on. Not because she wanted to exactly, but because he fascinated her. He never stopped paying attention, even when he was talking nonsense. His eyes filtered constantly between the tree lines, the undergrowth, the ridge lines. He noticed broken branches before she did, fresh footprints, always knew when the birds were taking flight. He’d have conversations with himself late at night, knuckles often white with how hard he clenched them like he was fighting a battle in his own mind. He could flirt with her, get under her skin and irritate her, all the while scanning for danger all at the same time. It was almost annoying, and yet, it was beginning to become almost entirely comforting.
By sunset, they’d taken camp by a creek on the outside of the woods. The sun bled across the valleys below; golden light spilling across the countryside leaving behind a lingering glow, birds calling once before settling into silence around them.
By the time darkness came, they sat across from each other; the fire Jimmy had started was glowing with flames and a restless life of their own.
Neither of them spoke for a while. The silence wasn’t uncomfortable. It was reassuring, just two people surviving alongside one another.
Eventually, Jimmy broke the silence; glancing across to Y/N over the flames,
“Can I ask ye something?”
She looked up then, head tilting to one side as she spoke, “what?”
“Have ye ever smiled at somebody else the way ye smile at me when ye’re about tae insult me?”
She blinked then, eyes downturn as she spoke, “I don’t smile at you.”
“Aye. Ye do.”
“I tolerate you.”
“That’s basically affection.”
“It really isn’t.”
Jimmy paused, a small smile tugging at his lips before he spoke, “I’ll take it.”
She shook her head, turning away but unable to stop the small smile at the corner of her mouth from lifting.
Jimmy caught it immediately, finger pointing at her, “there!”
“What?”
Jimmy’s shoulders dropped, his chest tightening once more, heart hammering behind his ribs, “Ye’ve got that wee smile.”
Y/N scoffed, eyes turning away from his again. Her own chest beginning to tighten, her heart beating loudly enough that she could feel the rush of blood. She said nothing, eyes finally lifting towards Jimmy.
Jimmy leaned back on one elbow, utterly pleased with himself, “If ye keep smiling at me like that, folk’ll start talking.”
She stared into the fire, eyes fixed on the dancing flame, “there aren’t any people, Jimmy.”
He shrugged, trailing off as he spoke, “aye, but if there were,”
She looked back at him, eyes soft, “I’d tell them you were delusional.”
Jimmy laughed, hair falling over his shoulders, “Aye,” he said, his eyes lingering on her for just a moment longer than usual. “Probably.”
The fire continued to crackle between them; flames dancing under the light of the moon, sparks lifting up into the air. Suddenly the miles they travelled didn’t seem so lonely. And although she would never admit it out loud, Y/N hoped that tomorrow’s road would be just as long.
Let me know what you think!❤️ any likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated🖤 if anyone wants to be added to a taglist for future chapters; let me know!🖤
summary: Upon finding out you're pregnant with Jimmy's child, you make the swift decision to leave after he orders the death of one of the Jimmy's after deeming him unfit for the group. Fearing what he might do if he finds out, you vanish into the wilds before dawn.
But Jimmy isn’t letting you go, not without a fight. He always fights for what's his as the end of the day, and you're no exception.
Not edited.
warnings: language, post apocalyptic setting, mentions of murder - character death, blood, possessive behaviour, mentions of pregnancy, throwing up, mentions of unprotected sex, mentions of violence, gore, manipulative tendencies, borderline Stockholm syndrome, happy ending, potential spoilers for 28 years later.
Let me know what you think!
-
You feel it before you see it, the flutter.
It's small. Gentle. Like light touches brushing against the inside of your stomach. You press your palm against the warmth beneath your jumper, just below your ribs, and hold your breath.
There it is again. A little ripple.
It's not exactly a kick, but it's a feeling, a reminder of the life hiding in there. The doctor called it 'quickening', you called it butterflies.
You’re nearly five months now. Nearly halfway.
The wind outside your bedroom window howls like something rough. It’s always like that up here, the Highlands whispering things you'd rather forget. But the compound holds stronger than anything you had ever lived in.
The walls of corrugated scrap and wire might not look like much, but they’re solid. Strong. Safe. Had been standing since the beginning.
Infected couldn't get in. That's all that mattered.
You exhale slowly, breath fogging the cold glass. Somewhere out in the yard, kids are laughing, high and sharp. The kind of laughter you didn’t think you’d find again when you left him.
There’s smoke rising from the kitchens, chimneys lining the grounds and holding other survivors.
You should be content.
Most days, you are.
You had lied your way into this place three months ago. With cracked lips and a story about a cottage out west that had been overrun with infected. You told them your husband held the door shut while you climbed out a back window.
That he screamed for you to run and he never made it out. That you had to leave the love of your life behind so you and your unborn baby could live.
They believed you in seconds.
They took you in and made you one of them like it was nothing.
When they found out you were pregnant, they didn’t ask questions, didn't ridicule you or cast you out.
No, they brought you to their doctor - a real one, Dr Fern, grey haired and gentle, with hands that knew how to find that little heartbeat inside you.
But some nights, like tonight - the lie feels heavier than the truth ever did.
You reach under your collar and touch a small ring hanging from a leather cord. Cold metal. Gold. You close your fist around it.
Jimmy’s ring.
It was the only thing that belonged to him that you brought with you, the only gift of his that you wanted to keep.
You see him sometimes in your dreams, grinning wide, tiara crooked on that perfect blonde hair. His purple suit soaked in blood, arms outstretched like some deranged messiah.
And yet, you had loved him.
Still do, in a quiet now unspoken way.
You miss his warmth.
When he'd hold you like you were the only person he needed, and at the end of the day when it was just you and your dysfunctional family together in this mad world.
His sweet nothings in your ear, his protection, his guidance.
But then came Spike. Then came Shite's execution.
"I'm not letting anyone tear what we've all worked so hard to create. We're building something good here, can't go changing things now."
And Fox had obeyed with a grin, slicing into his brother like it was nothing.
Regret had oozed it's way into your soul in the first few weeks, but you got over it when you realised you truly had no other choice.
You just never expected to make it this far.
You were adamant an infected would've gotten to you first, or worse - Jimmy. But you had managed for the first month, running from place to place, hiding where you could and taking down infected when needed.
"Dinner's ready now honey bunny," Someone breaks your thoughts, and you turn your head, seeing a friendly face. It was one of the ladies from the compound who worked in the supply section, Ange. "Wanna walk w'me?"
"I'd love too," You answer, swinging off your chair with a huff. You were still getting used to walking around now with the extra weight, knowing it was only going to get worse.
Already your feet would swell, your lower back screaming alongside it. "Gotta get there before Henry does, old mate might eat our plates."
The older woman snorts, nodding her agreements. She guides you out of your room, an old office building turned into individual bedrooms.
You make small talk along the way, making mention of your job for the day. They were kind when it came to your condition, and you found yourself sorting through supplies with a few of the older generations to keep off your swollen feet.
Unbeknownst to you, Jimmy Jimmy lies belly flat in the dirt behind a half rotted log, his breath shallow, his fingers raw from the cold.
Pine needles bite into his palms. His ribs ache. He’s been tracking leads for days, hoping from compound to compound.
But now, there you are.
Walking past a garden, talking with a strange woman. Your hair is longer. Your clothes are plain, a large grey hoodie, loose cargo pants, boots caked in mud.
No tracksuit. No gold.
You don’t look like a Jimmy anymore.
You look happy.
That’s what stings the most.
Jimmy Jimmy doesn’t clock the curve of your belly beneath the hoodie, doesn’t notice the way you move more carefully now, the way your hand drifts to rest just above your waistband when you stand still.
All he sees is you, whole and breathing and not dead, not like Jimmy Snake kept saying you probably were.
He watches until you vanish inside one of the buildings, laughter rising behind you, doors swinging open, warm light spilling into the dusk.
Then he starts walking with a grin. His mission successful.
Sir Jimmy would be pleased.
-
The moment he makes it back to your real base, Jimmy Jimmy nearly drops to his knees. It's been days of straight trekking, beelining for home in order to break the news.
Jimmy had been a wreck since you left. More compounds and safe havens had suffered greatly, tied up and carved with your name pressed into their bellies instead of his, before they were swiftly burnt to the ground.
He was losing it. Barely any sleep, barely any words murmured to the others. You were a loss he didn't see coming. The Jimmies were struggling under his rule as well, running a muck along the country side in just a mere hope they'd find you.
Ink stayed quiet the entire time, trying to steer them clear of the direction she had seen you leave in. But it wasn't enough, no stone was to be left unturned.
If a compound was found, it would be raided. If there was a chance they were harbouring his property, he couldn't risk not looking.
Jimmy Jimmy is tired, wind burned, streaked in mud. The others rest around the theatre, eagerly awaiting his words.
But it’s the man on the stage, sitting on a makeshift throne who lifts a hand.
"You're back early."
It's not a question, it's an accusation. He's waiting, wondering why Jimmy Jimmy wasn't still out. Everyone was expecting him back next week.
The younger man looks up, grinning from ear to ear despite the trembling in his knees.
“I found her,” He beams, attempting to catch his breath. "She's alive and she,” He wheezed again. “She looks well."
The theatre is silent.
Then a sound like a breath and a prayer all at once, a sharp, joyous inhale through clenched teeth. Jimmima claps her hands as Jimmy Jones breathes a sigh of relief.
Jimmy rises.
The necklaces against his dark purple suit shimmer like a beetle’s shell in the low light. The tiara on his head is bent slightly to the left. The upside down crucifix looks even bigger somehow.
“Where? You're sure?”
“East,” Jimmy Jimmy nods, his voice hoarse. “Forestry compound, couple days out if we don't make stops. I couldn't see much from afar - but it's definitely her, I swear it Sir."
He doesn’t continue. The look on his leaders face says enough for everyone.
Relief, excitement, fury - it all blends together.
“Pack up,” Jimmy says, turning to the others. “We’re leaving tonight.”
Ink smiles despite the hesitation behind her eyes. Jones cracks their knuckles. Jimmy Fox whispers something to Jimmy Snake that makes both of them laugh.
“She’ll probably run,” Jimmy Fox adds, tone unreadable. “If she sees us -”
“She won’t,” Jimmy interrupts, too softly. “She won’t even see us coming.”
His delight was enough to boost everyone's morale.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you were found. You were just days away, and Jimmy knew that when he had you back in his arms, he wasn't going to let you go again.
Whether you were chained to your bed or to him, there wouldn't be a moment where his eyes wouldn't be on you.
Jimmy's eyes crinkled as he huffs out a laugh, watching as everyone makes their way around the theatre. Weapons lay on the stage, chatter and giggles echoing all over.
You were coming home.
-
A fire crackles low. A circle of tired faces glowing orange in the dark.
You sit with your legs pulled up, arms wrapped around your knees, the blanket someone had given you draped over your shoulders. Beneath it, baggy pyjamas and some muddy boots. It was a nightly routine now.
The air smells like smoke, pine and damp earth. The sky’s a black sheet of stars overhead. The wind has died down.
Some had already gone to bed, those on watch stood at their posts, others like yourself sat in a ring, talking amongst each other.
Across from you, Elder Rae is smoking one of her horrible hand rolled cigarettes, squinting against the smoke curling into her eyes.
You don't know what she was smoking, or what herb it was, but it's enough to make everyone grimace at the scent. Her voice is thick, born long before the outbreak, hair long and braided in parts.
“Another compound up north got hit.” She mutters, exhaling slow.
A few heads lift. Yours included.
“Another? Where?” Someone asks.
“Near the old Tesco depot, just outside Fort Augustus,” She answers, shaking her head at the reveal. "Had a good trade set up with them, haven't heard from them in a wee while."
“Shit,” Another one murmurs from beside you, Brodie, a wiry man with crooked teeth and a machete always strapped to his thigh. “That’s not even a weeks way up the road.”
You stay quiet.
“They leave anyone alive?” Someone else asks, one of the younger girls.
Rae shakes her head. “Two survivors, both torn up pretty bad. Said it weren’t infected though, said it were people, they reckon raiders. Butchering folk like pigs, strung most of 'em up and burned the rest.”
You feel the skin on the back of your neck prickle.
“They say what they looked like?” You ask before you can stop yourself, pulling the blanket tighter over your shoulders as someone hands you a mug of something hot.
Rae shrugs. "Masks, something about wigs, same story as the southbound compound that got hit last month."
Laughter bubbles up from one of the older ones. “What? Wigs? Like fuckin' drag queens?”
You didn't know what that meant, and you keep your eyes trained on Rae as she speaks.
She doesn’t laugh at the older mans quip either. “They didn't even take supplies, least not the shite ye think a raider would take."
You taste iron in your mouth. Bite your tongue before your thoughts can slip out through your teeth.
It didn't take you long to figure it out. Your Jimmy would never let anyone leave, especially not leave him. You knew what he was looking for, why the 'raiders' weren't taking supplies.
You grip your mug tighter, trying not to shake. You haven’t said his name in months. Haven’t dared to speak of the Jimmies. The theatre. Him.
But now?
You can feel him everywhere.
Can almost hear him.
"Ye scared of me love? Think I'd hurt you?"
The others go quiet for a while. Someone tosses another log on the fire. Sparks drift upward like dying stars and you follow the small embers until they disappear into the night.
“Think they’ll come here?” A girl asks. Seventeen at most, born long after the virus hit.
Rae glances toward the large wall that separates us from the outside. “Eventually, yeah I do."
You swallow.
You should run, should leave again and give this place a chance.
But you can’t.
You're slower now. The baby makes your back ache and your feet swell, makes you vomit every second day. And this place, for all its creaking fences and tired faces, has something the theatre didn't.
A doctor.
You look at the people around you, their shadows dancing in the firelight. You don’t want them to burn for your past.
But you know that Jimmy will come for this place whether you're here or not.
Silence fills the air, just the low murmur of chatter from the walls and the crackling of the fire in the middle of your small group
No one knows that it was your family burning half the countryside, and you knew it would only be a matter of time before your beloved found you.
Found both of you.
-
They came for you just three days later.
He came for you.
Just as the sun began to set and the sky above the eastern compound bled orange.
At first, it was just distant smoke. But by dusk, the screams had started. The crackle of fire. The chaos. The pattern. You knew it too well, hell, you used to participate in it.
You didn’t need confirmation. Jimmy was here.
And he wasn’t charging in. He was waiting.
You’d heard his voice earlier, loud, clear, and patient as death, calling out to the compound from beyond the wall. Not barking orders. Not demanding surrender. Just speaking.
“You have something that belongs to me.”
The spotters were cut down first, colourful tracksuits climbing the walls and opening the main gate like it was muscle memory.
You’re hiding now, ducked behind a burned out truck, hoodie pulled low, heart a knot of fear and love and guilt. Around you, the compound trembled.
Some people still tried to fight. Others begged. But you knew the truth:
They were wasting time.
And you were the reason for all of it.
You couldn't run now. You couldn’t leave, not like this.
So you stepped out from your hiding spot, walking slowly towards the smoke and scattered screams. Others ran past you in the opposite direction, attempting to get to the safe zones put in place in case of infected.
Sir Jimmy Crystal stood just outside the compound walls, framed by firelight like some messiah. His arms were behind his back, eyes looking over the ruin in front of him as his Jimmies reaped havoc.
Blonde hair immaculate. Tracksuit nearly pristine. He hadn’t aged a day since you last saw him, still beautiful, terrifying, controlled.
Just tired.
He was alone at the front.
As you walked through the burning compound, you slowly pulled your hoodie down, seeing a blur of baby blue and red running towards you.
Ink and Jimmima stopped halfway, recognising you instantly. Jimmima beams, cat ears on her head with a splatter of blood on her cheek, Ink just looks at you apologetically, and you give her a low nod.
The other Jimmies - Snake, Jones, all of them, were scattered in the background, causing chaos or stringing people up, but Jimmy waited.
His eyes locked on you the moment you stepped into view.
A breath caught in his chest, his eyes wide and hands almost trembling. His head tilts, eyes looking you up and down for any sign of injury.
“There you are.”
His words came soft. Disbelieving. Reverent.
You didn’t run, nor did you speak.
You just stood there, hoodie pulled low over the curve of your stomach, arms at your sides.
Jimmy took a slow step forward. Then another, until he stood barely a metre from you.
“Look at you,” His voice cracked, just barely. “I thought maybe I’d made you up. Thought maybe I’d gone crazy missing you.”
You know he had and still you said nothing, keeping your eyes on him.
“But here you are... you, you ran from me.” Not an accusation. Just a fact.
“I did,” You murmur, voice strong despite the fear in your gut. "I had too."
His eyes narrowed, like he couldn’t understand. “Why? After everything we had, ye run off on me like a coward - abandon me like it was nothin'."
You swallowed hard, it wasn't nothing. It was one of the hardest things you had done. “Because I couldn't stay, not after everything that happened.”
He blinked at that. Then slowly his expression softened. Uncharacteristically gentle.
“I know I’m... a lot. I know I made some choices. Some of them... hard.” He glanced over your shoulder at the fire eating through the compound, then looked back at you. “But I would’ve done anything for you. Still would, still am.”
You could feel your heart breaking and repairing itself all at once.
“Ye need to call the Jimmies off," You plead, hearing more screams and laughter from behind. "These are good people Jimmy, they helped me - that has to mean something to you."
His eyes close with an inhale at hearing his name from your lips. “I provided you with everything, gave you everything - you expect me to just let this all pass?"
"So just take me home then, or kill me now - just... just let this place go."
Silence.
Then Jimmy stepped closer again, slower now, searching your face like he was trying to read a secret you were keeping. You kept your arms tight at your sides, willing the hoodie to stay loose, willing your body to obey.
“I looked for you every damn day y'know?” He whispers. “I sent Jimmies in all directions. We tore through half the damn country. I burned the places that lied to me, killed the ones who said they hadn’t seen you,”
His voice trembled. Not from anger. From something worse.
“Because I love you,” He nods to himself. "So much that it's painful, y'know how much it hurt wakin' up alone to your letter? Knowing how easy it was for you to run out on me?'
Tears welled in your eyes. “It wasn’t easy, far from it.”
He reached out, slowly, like you might vanish again if he moved too fast.
“Doesn’t matter now, you’re not safe out here. Look how easy it was for us to get in. This world, this place? It's not meant for you,” His fingers brushed yours. “But I am. I’m the only thing that ever kept you alive, kept ye going all these years.”
You let him touch your hand. Just for a second.
And it nearly destroyed you, his warmth burned.
“M'not gonna kill you,” It was like the mere idea pained him. “No, Christ I could never, not after all this. Can't say I didn't think about it the first week - though I think I just wanted you to hurt as much as I was hurting."
His voice had never sounded like that before.
Broken. Raw. Desperate.
You looked at him, the man you love, the man you feared, the man who would burn the world down just to find you.
And somewhere inside, behind the terror and the weight of what grew inside you, the smallest voice whispered:
He hasn’t seen the bump.
The silence between you stretched thick and endless, broken only by the distant crackle of fire and the groaning of half collapsed buildings.
Jimmy’s hands were still on yours. His eyes were soft, too soft, shining with something between relief and fever.
He smiled. Not wide, but intimate and familiar.
“We’re gonna' go home now.” His voice was light. Like it was a definite, he wasn’t asking. He was telling you.
You opened your mouth.
He cut you off.
“No, no. You don’t get a say this time, you don’t get to run off again,” He brushed your hair behind your ear, fingertips trailing down your cheek like he was memorising you all over again. “And when we're home, I’m gonna make sure you can't run off again - keep you locked in our room. Safe, just you and me.”
You stepped back a half inch, barely noticeable, but to Jimmy, it was a canyon. You couldn't leave, there was no medicine, no doctor, hell, there wasn't even anywhere you could give birth comfortably.
His hand snapped out, catching your wrist with a growl. “Watch it.”
You froze.
His smile returned, thinner now. “I’ll tie you to the bed if I have to, just for a little while at least. Until you remember who you belong to,” A beat, a murmur of your name. “You scared me so much my love, and I've come to realise that I don’t like feeling that way.”
His other hand came to rest on the back of your neck, drawing you forward roughly.
“You will be punished for that, I cannae have the others thinkin' you can hurt me and get away with it,” A whisper, almost tender. “But I’ll still love you through it, and you'll forgive me eventually.”
You tremble. You knew he wouldn't let it slide. His pride came before all else. His punishments would never be physical, but you knew he'd comfortably tie you to your bed or grant you the silent treatment for weeks.
At least that's what he used to do. You never minded the first punishment.
Probably how you ended up pregnant to begin with.
You weren't sure what his punishments would entail now, not after seeing what he did to Shite and the compounds around the highlands.
Before you could pull away, before you could brace yourself or make a run for it, he hugged you.
Tight. Like a man hugging a ghost he wasn’t sure was real.
And that’s when he felt it.
The shift.
The pressure of your stomach between you.
Jimmy went still. His arms froze around you, breath caught in his throat.
Then, slowly, he pulled back. Just enough to see your face, and then his eyes dropped.
To your hoodie. To the bump.
You swallowed, stepping back instinctively, but his hands were already on your shoulders, holding you in place and keeping you still.
He looks at the zipper, and the hands on your shoulder slide down until they reach the top of your hoodie.
And without a word, he drags the small zipper down.
Slowly. Like opening a gift. Or a casket.
The fabric parted and there it was, your swollen belly, unmistakable now that it was exposed. Covered by a soft vest, barely hidden under the fabric that was a size too small.
Jimmy’s gaze locked onto it.
Unblinking.
Darting between your belly and your evidently swollen breasts.
They returned to your belly as you shivered.
He was unmoving.
He says nothing for several seconds. The firelight danced in his eyes, his jaw twitching as he stays staring.
Then, quietly. "S'it mine?"
Another pause. You don't answer, you weren't sure how too. But he didn’t need you to, he did the math.
The distance and the time apart. The way you looked at him. He knew you wouldn’t have touched anyone else.
He knew.
Still, he looked up at you again, searching.
Needing to hear it anyway.
You nodded. "Of course it is."
Another beat.
Then, he exhaled, shaky and quiet, like something inside him had just collapsed and rebuilt before your eyes.
He looked down at your stomach again. His hands dropped from your shoulders, hovering in the air like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed to touch you.
“You’re carrying...” Soft. Disbelieving. "Me."
You opened your mouth to speak, to explain, but he shook his head slightly. His fingers finally touched your belly, just the tips. Barely grazing the curve of your fabric covered belly.
“Mine,” The word came out like a prayer. "Ye left and took a part of me with you," And then, with something dark and fierce behind his eyes, he looked up at you again. “You were gonna keep this from me?”
The grief in his voice was real. Deep. But so was the danger.
You could hardly breathe. Tears spilled freely now, hot on your cheeks as Jimmy’s hand stayed gently on your belly. His thumb ghosted over the fabric like he was afraid to press too hard, like you might vanish again if he moved wrong.
"You don't understand." You whisper, sniffling as it all hits you at once.
His eyes never left your stomach.
Not yet.
So you kept speaking, words tumbling out too fast, too thick.
"I didn’t tell you because… because I didn’t know how you’d take it. You never talked about things like this Jimmy, about babies or… or anything past the now. You always talked about the future, how others were slowing us down, how - how Shite had gotten sloppy,"
Now his gaze finally rose, eyes wide with something unreadable. You let the silence hang for a second. Then your voice broke again:
"I didn’t want us to come between the future you envisioned."
The words hung in the smoky air like glass about to shatter.
Jimmy just stood there, staring at you. And for a second, a rare, real second, he looked wrecked.
His hand stayed pressed against your stomach, but his posture had changed. His shoulders had dropped, eyes glassy, mouth slightly parted.
His voice was hoarse when he spoke. "You thought I’d see you as a liability?" His mind races with the note you had written him, and he quotes you himself. "I won't slow you down, I won't ruin your vision for the world."
You nodded through the tears.
He blinked slowly. Then shook his head, not in disbelief, but in grief.
"I did scare you." A breath. "That night I asked and ye lied to me, but I see it now - I made you think you weren’t safe with me, didn’t I? You thought I’d hurt you?”
You didn’t speak. You couldn’t.
And then something shifted in his face, all the harsh lines melted, tension gone. His other hand came up, cupping the side of your face. His touch was featherlight.
He looked at you the way you remembered from before all of it, before the wigs, the indoctrination, the fear.
"There’s no future I want that doesn’t have you in it," He whispers, eyes stern. "You hear me? None. This all means nothing if you're not with me,"
Your heart twisted in your chest, because you believed him. Because he meant it. "M'so sorry dove, I'm sorry ye thought I would ever lay a hand on you, on them."
You placed your hand over his, pressing it gently into the roundness of your belly.
"Then let this place go," You said softly. You weren't even sure if there was much of this place left. "Please. There’s a doctor here. I need one, Jimmy. I won't... I can’t make it like this without their help."
He hesitated.
But then, slowly, for once, he agreed.
"Okay." His thumb brushed your cheek. "Alright, for you, just this once.”
You nearly collapsed with relief.
Jimmy whistles, loud enough for one to hear, loud enough for the next to whistle louder and call the others back. He's got you pulled into his side and your nuzzled into his side, arm wrapped around him.
He murmurs more apologies into your ear, hand on your stomach now in a possessive tender embrace.
Colourful characters start returning to the gate, relief filling you at seeing some parts of the compound still standing.
But that relief lasted only seconds.
A shout rings out, cackling following it as your blood turns to ice.
Jimmy Fox drags a body across the ash streaked courtyard with a rope tied around their feet.
Limp hands trail in the dirt behind them as blood seeps from their stomach.
A familiar coat.
Dr Fern.
Your knees buckled, nearly hitting the ground hard if it weren’t for the man beside you. A sob rips from your chest, raw and wild.
"No, no - Jimmy!" He struggles to keep you upright as you flail around, hand outstretched at the familiar face. “Fuck, no!”
Sir Jimmy’s head turned, slow and deliberate.
His face didn’t change. Not immediately.
But then he saw the body, the blood, and he flinched like someone had struck him. He figured it out quickly.
"Fox!" He barks. Jimmy Fox, still grinning, dropped the rope unceremoniously and shrugs, confused. The others look on, watching in content at you being found, but worried by your wailing.
“What’s the issue?” Fox calls out, going as far as to kick at the leg of the body by his feet.
Jimmy brings you to your knees, letting you down gently as he whispers into your ear. “The doctor?”
You just nod, unable to speak. It was rare finding anyone nowadays who could even stitch a wound, let alone someone from before the fall who was actually educated.
He was your only hope at a safe pregnancy.
Jimmy curses, jaw clenched. He couldn’t be mad, he was the one who told his Jimmies to carve up anyone who got in their way. But seeing you like this after months apart pained him something fierce.
Your cries shook your whole body as you curled over your belly, protective instinct kicking in even as everything felt like it was slipping from your hands.
"I’m dead," You choked out. "He was the only one who knew what,” A painful wheeze. “Knew what to do, he, he was the only, fucking, Jimmy he -“
Jimmy knelt in front of you, one hand cradling your head, the other gripping your back. He angles your face tenderly, guiding you to his eyes as tears pour down your cheeks.
"Hey, stop it, look at me," His voice was soft again, firm with certainty. “Naw the only one, we’ll find another."
You shook your head, trying to push him away. “Fucking where?” Your head falls back in another rough inhale of air. “You’ve burned half the highlands down, there’s no one left.”
He lifted your face, forcing you to look at him again through blurred, tear soaked vision.
"We will,” He urges, no room for fear. “I’ll find ye ten even, you’re naw going without."
You wanted to believe him.
But you couldn’t stop shaking, the last piece of safety you had was gone.
And all you had left was him.
-
You’re walking, back with them, back with him.
Your family.
You had left the compound and camped somewhere else for the night. Everyone was up and walking by sun up, eager to put distance between what remained of the eastern camp.
Jimmy’s hand is wrapped around yours, warm and firm, his thumb tracing slow little circles into your palm, like it’s a secret message only you two understand.
Every so often, his hand slips to your back, resting gently, protectively, just above your hips. He doesn’t push. Doesn’t rush.
True to his word, he left the remainder of the compound unscathed and left a handful of survivors.
With a threat that he would be back with hundreds more if any of them thought of tracking your group down.
They didn’t know that there was only a handful of you, but seeing as the damage was still extreme with just a small number, they didn’t want to risk anything further.
The others all surround you, weapons in hand, bags full of looted supplies, baby items and stolen medicine for you.
Jimmy wasn't angry anymore, he was ecstatic. He hadn't stopped touching you the entire walk, talking like you hadn't spent three months apart.
He spent the whole night with you wrapped in his sleeping bag, his chest pressed to your back, hand possessively gliding over your belly.
You love him, you never stopped loving him. But the guilt is a weight, one you can barely carry.
Not because you left, but because you brought death with you when you did.
You feel sick.
Dr Fern was dead. Jimmy Fox had striked his stomach like it was instinct.
And Jimmy… hadn’t even looked angry, not at first.
After consoling you the best he could, he had walked over to Fox, slowly, almost calmly, and whispered something in his ear that made the younger man stumble back like he’d been slapped.
Jimmy had spared the others, all because of you. Because of the baby.
His baby.
And now here you are. One foot in front of the other, marching across a broken land, loved by a man who kills people who disappoint him and then kisses your forehead like you’re the only reason the world is still turning.
You haven’t said a word since you left the compound.
Jimmy doesn’t force you either, he seems content to speak for you, to hold you when your tears start to fall again or a small sniffle leaves your nose.
The others all walk in their mismatched suits and wigs, smeared in blood and ash. They’re not talking either, not really. Not even Jimmy Snake, who usually won’t shut up.
They’re waiting to see how this plays out.
Maybe they’re scared too.
"I've redecorated our room," Jimmy mumbles, hand still holding yours as he helps you through some mud. "Might have to move things around again, make room for a cot, what'dya think?"
You just nod, not bothering to even think that far ahead. Chances are you won't make it that long. Pregnancy was hard as is nowadays with actual support, without intervention it felt damn near impossible.
Jimmy frowns, clearing his throat as he sees your expression.
Fear, dread, all of it.
He knows he's too blame, but he only feels half responsible.
If you hadn't left, this wouldn't have happened.
If you had just stayed with him, he wouldv'e looked after you, found a doctor sooner or later.
But he knows why you ran. Understood the fear you felt, especially after the ordeal with Jimmy Shite. He never meant for you to feel like you were expendable.
The others? Sure, but they weren't comparable to you. His other half, his love, his future, and now the mother of his child.
"Sir?" Ink pipes up from where she walks on Jimmy’s left.
He turns his head, blonde hair blowing in the breeze. He doesn't speak, just tilts his head with a silent 'go on.'
"When we get home - Jones and I could scout out again, start looking for a doc," She looks to you, seeing the blank expression but silent tears with a regretful frown. "Maybe send Jimmima and Snake out to look for more things too."
He nods, not wanting to leave you alone any more once you return to the theatre. His mouth opens to speak when you beat him to it.
"Nae bother," Your voice is sharp, mourning almost. "There won't be any, don't waste yer time."
"Love," Jimmy murmurs, stopping you both in your tracks. The others all stop too, forming a circle around you two as Jimmy turns you towards him. Your eyes are locked onto his chest, your breathing laboured. "Don't talk like that now - y'know I'll look after you right? Both of you."
His hand reaches down again, running along your sides. "Tell ye what, we'll have a rest here," He whistles lowly once without breaking his gaze, everyone reacting accordingly. Some walk further out to check for any threats, others stay close. "Have a seat, I've got ye."
It was a stark difference to his tone back at the compound. Gone was the Sir Jimmy who was threatening to chain you to the bed and punish you, but the man you had left behind three months ago.
The man you had fallen in love with.
"I'm fucked Jimmy," You whisper, finally meeting his gaze as another lone tear falls down your cheek. "There I had a chance, we had a chance," You point into the forest behind you, where there was still clouds of smoke peering over the tree line from the compound. "I've got nothing now."
Jimmy's face contorts in anguish, seeing you so defeated. "You have me, all of us," He brings his hands to your cheeks, wiping away your tears. "I'm not lettin' you go again, anywhere."
You believed him.
Then you hear his voice.
"Sir Jimmy?"
It's Spike, the smallest of your bunch. Jimmy reluctantly turns away, looking towards the boy.
"Uh, I know a doctor.”
You blink, chest feeling heavy. You glance sideways.
Spike kept his eyes down, dragging a stick through the dirt as he avoids Jimmy's gaze. His dark blue tracksuit, Shite's, two sizes too big and streaked with dirt, but his voice is clear. Nervous, but strong.
Jimmy turns his head even more, his hand sliding down until it rests on your lower back. "A real one?"
Spike kicks at a stone. “Aye, from before this," He waves his hand around, signifying the end of the world. "Helped me and my mum, helped with... A baby we knew."
He seemed hesitant to bring up the last part, but it was enough for you to pike your interest.
You stand straighter, Jimmy noticing instantly.
“Where?” You ask, your voice hoarse.
Spike glances up at you, then at Jimmy, then back down again.
“West, way past the cathedral, in a uh,” The boy hesitates again. "Place made of bones - s'hard to explain but he's real, s'called Dr Kelson."
Jimmy raises his eyebrows, looking over at you like he’s just been handed a gift. “See?” He says softly. “Told you I’d take care of you.”
You don’t say anything. You just nod, slowly.
But inside, something stirs. A flicker of hope buried under the fear and anxiety and all the wrong kinds of love.
Maybe Spike just saved your baby’s life.
Maybe your life.
Jimmy's attitude flips completely, reaching forward to pat Spike on the shoulder before he pushes him towards Ink. He points to your friend in red. "You go tell her where," He pushes him a little rougher. "Go on now."
Spike nods eagerly, walking away from the two of you and towards Ink.
"You're going to be okay love," He repeats for what felt like the hundredth time, dragging his ringed fingers over your cheeks and down your neck. He feels the leather cord around your skin, pulling it out from where it hides under your vest. He beams at seeing his ring attached to the end. "I've missed ye so much, you've honestly got no idea."
You did have an idea. The bodies along the way was a clear indication.
You couldn't help the way you felt either, hope once again starting to blossom in your chest at the prospect of another doctor. You would only feel completely better upon seeing this Dr Kelson for yourself.
"I've missed you too," You utter, reaching out to rest your hands on Jimmy's chest. He continues to fiddle with his ring around your neck. You hadn't once given him an apology for leaving, and he didn't expect one either. "I love you."
He coos, revelling in hearing those words after so long. "I love you, and this one here," He runs one hand over your front again, even stopping just below your breasts. "And these too, should've noticed they looked bigger when I saw ye."
The hands on his chest bunch into fists as you push him away, but he laughs, pulling you back into his arms in a tight embrace.
It was as close as you two could be with the bump in the way.
Spike's words hang in the air, like sunlight breaking through heavy clouds.
A doctor. There might be a doctor.
You breathe again, like you've been underwater for days.
Jimmy is watching you. Not the usual way, not like you're his tiara that he’s polishing or a thing he owns. No, this time it’s softer. There’s a crease between his brows, like he’s trying to figure out how you feel before you even say it.
You pull away from the hug, your hand resting against your belly at feeling the quickening again.
Jimmy’s eyes drop to your hand, then back up to you. He steps closer once more. One arm slips gently around your waist, cautious, but not grabbing completely.
The other lifts to your jaw, fingers brushing your cheek like you might vanish if he presses too hard.
“I've got to make up for lost time now," He promises, and you peer up, seeing Jimmy properly for what felt like forever. Not your leader, not someone to fear, but your Jimmy. "M'sorry for everything, for scaring ye, the lot."
You believe him. And that scares you most of all.
Jimmy would burn everything down for you if need be.
You didn't speak, instead you just leaned your head forward.
Just slightly.
And he meets you there.
The kiss is warm. Familiar. But slower than it used to be. There's no audience, no showing off. No crowd of Jimmies' cheering in a ruined theatre. Just the smell of pine trees and earth, and the quiet ache of two people who still belong to each other in ways they shouldn’t.
His hand stays on your waist as he pulls back, forehead resting against yours.
“We’ll find that doctor,” he says softly. "I'll make sure of it, get that boy to lead the way."
You nod.
And together, you start walking again.
Side by side, fingers loosely intertwined.
Jimmy Ink runs up beside you, nudging you with her elbow as she smiles. "Missed you."
"I missed you too."
Ahead, Spike runs to catch up with Jimmy Snake, who places his arm over his shoulder before the two run ahead. Jimmima holds hands with Fox, the two behind you with their weapons in their other hands.
Fox was determined to apologise for what he had done, letting the blonde in baby blue tell him the best way to do it.
The others moved like shadows around you, suits flashing in the sunlight breaking through the clouds. A kaleidoscope of danger and devotion.
But for a moment, just one, it almost feels like peace, that there was a future with everyone you loved in it.
Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed.
Series warnings; violence, cults? mature themes, swearing i guess?torture, rape, canon movie violence. religious guilt? eventual smut, death, mental illness
The problem with Jimmy was that he refused to leave.
Not in aggressive way, not even in a threatening way, nor a particularly deliberate way. He simply just stayed.
Three days after the service station, Y/N woke beneath a collapsed bus shelter, the rain still lingered, now an ever present drizzle that left her hair frazzled and wild. She woke to find Jimmy twenty feet away, poking at the remains of a fire with a stick.
Her eyes lingered over him, eyes still heavy with sleep. It was then, almost as if he could hear her thoughts, that he turned to her with that same crooked grin,
“Mornin’”
Y/N’s face shifted, the stoic almost annoyed expression fell into place across her features before she huffed out an irritated sound, hands brushing the hair from her face before pulling off her sleeping bag.
“Why are you here?”
Jimmy frowned, “someone had tae make sure the fire didn’t die.”
She huffed again, now coming to stand before him, hands on her hips as she spoke, “Okay. But why are you still here?”
Jimmy’s smile returned, eyes lingering over her face before he looked away, “Aye, that.” He poked at the fire again, eyes travelling back towards her face, “Coincidence.”
Y/N huffed, her arms now folding against her chest, “It’s not coincidence, Jimmy.”
“Could be.”
“It’s not. I told you you needed to leave, three days ago and yet, here you are.”
Jimmy just shrugged, “Aye. Here I am.”
The conversation should have ended there. Unfortunately if there was one thing Y/N had learned about Jimmy Crystal in the last three days it was that he seemed to possess an almost supernatural ability to continue conversations nobody wanted to have.
“Ye hungry?”
Y/N looked at him, her lips pursed in an irritated line before she spoke, “no.”.
Seconds later her stomach growled, her head whipping towards Jimmy as if it were his fault, he only smirked at her before throwing a tin towards her; she caught it on reflex. Debated throwing it back at him, maybe enough to concuss him and then said nothing as she opened the tin. Food had won the fight again.
They spent the next week in the same kind of rhythm. Y/N asking Jimmy when he was going to leave, Jimmy expertly avoiding the question and somehow always managing to stay.
They travelled in the same direction. Coincidence, Jimmy still called it.
Y/N made it clear that they weren’t travelling together, just merely happening to walk the same roads, sleep in the same shelters, scavenge the same villages; she found his presence infuriating, and yet a small part of her felt oddly reassured. He was always there, far enough away to not annoy her regularly, but close enough that she knew exactly where he was.
They’d been travelling together for two weeks when she heard voices after midnight. At first, she thought she was dreaming; her brows knitting together as she woke from the fuzziness of slumbering, one hand coming up to rub the sleep from her eyes, yawning lightly as she listened.
The words were too faint for her to make out; murmurs of conversation, somebody speaking softly, awaiting a reply before speaking again. She sat up, pulling herself from the sleeping bag, hand reaching instinctively for her knife before padding lightly towards the noise.
The campfire burned low; the surrounding countryside lay dark and silent beneath the moon; except for one thing, Jimmy.
He sat alone beside the dying embers of the fire, face lit by the glow of the dwindling flame, his expression scrunched in confusion, speaking softly as though there was somebody sat beside him.
Y/N frowned, knife clutched in her hand as she looked around in confusion. No movement, no silhouette in the dark. Nothing.
She continued to watch as Jimmy nodded occasionally as if he was responding to questions she couldn’t hear. She observed the exchange for a few more minutes, stood silent, watching as he laughed, almost embarrassed as if somebody had told a joke. The sight sent a chill through her, her heart hammering beneath her ribs; there was nobody else there. She retreated back towards her sleeping bag, silent as she came.
By morning, she had almost convinced herself it was a dream. That was until breakfast. Jimmy sat opposite her chewing on dried meat; his face completely normal, almost annoyingly so.
“Did ye sleep alrigh?”
Y/N studied him, the food in her hand stilling just before her mouth: he looked like Jimmy, blonde hair, blue eyes, the same stupid crooked grin, the cross tucked underneath his jacket. Nothing strange, nothing unusual, nothing that screamed a man who talks to invisible people at night.
Finally she spoke, eyes avoiding his own as she did, “who were you talking to last night?”
Jimmy stilled. The smile vanishing from his face. Y/N watched as for one awful second, genuine fear crossed his face. Not anger, not defensiveness. Fear.
His eyes dropped immediately. He stood, clearing his throat, back turned towards her as he spoke, “ye heard that?”
Y/N paused, her own heart beginning to thump loudly against her ribs. She watched as Jimmy touched the cross at his neck. Her stomach tightened before she spoke on an almost whispered breath,
“Yes.”
Jimmy continued to avoid her gaze; his back still turned as the silence stretched. Y/N began to shift uncomfortably, stilling as he spoke,
“Sometimes…”
His voice cracked slightly, the words shaking as he cleared his throat again, “sometimes I hear things. Happens after bad days mostly.”
His fingers tightened around the cross, knuckles whitening with the force, “I know they’re no’ real.”
The admission came so quickly it almost sounded rehearsed, like he’d said it before. Many times, only if to himself.
He paused agin before speaking, Y/N sat still, watching as his shoulders tensed, “Sometimes it feels real, though.”
Y/N didn’t know what to say, her eyes drifting towards the crackling of the fire before returning her gaze to Jimmy. She expected him to deflect, to lie, to try and joke it off. Instead she got honesty; raw and uncomfortable honesty.
Jimmy finally turned towards her, and for the first time since they’d met, he looked exhausted. Not physically, something deeper; something older. A man carrying too much weight.
“Ye think I’m mad.”
Y/N hesitated, studying him before speaking, “I think you’re tired, Jimmy. We’re living in a dead world, most people nowadays are half mad.”
Jimmy blinked, fingers tracing idly over the cross at his neck, “Aye. Ye know I’m no’ good, lass.”
Y/N shifted, standing up before coming closer to him, stopping in front of him, arms by her sides as she searched his face, “I never said you were. Being good doesn’t mean much nowadays, being human does. You’re still human, Jimmy. You just handle things differently from the rest.”
Jimmy huffed, eyes closing briefly before he laughed, “Ye don’t want tae run?.”
Y/N shifted closer, “I’ve been asking you to leave for weeks and yet, here we are. I’m not running Jimmy. You don’t have to run either.”
The heaviness in his eyes vanished as she spoke; the fear, the exhaustion, the strange sense of sadness in recognition gone. Just a man, laughing lightly, who despite everything, still seemed capable of joy.
Y/N shifted back a step as she spoke, “This doesn’t mean we’re friends.”
Jimmy’s grin returned, his head tilting slightly, blonde hair falling over his face, arms now loose at his sides, “There she is.”
Y/N bent then, picking up a small mound of stone before tossing it at him, “If you call me an angry hamster again I’ll kill you. Understood?”
Jimmy only smiled wider, hands raised in mock surrender, “Aye. Understood.”
Years before Jimmy Crystal became Sir Lord, he was just a man. A man with a voice he tried to ignore. A man who loved, a man who knew that his delusions were fragility dressed up as belonging. A man who vowed to protect. A man who loved Y/N; years later, that’s the only thing that never changed.
Series warnings; violence, cults? mature themes, swearing i guess?torture, rape, canon movie violence. religious guilt? eventual smut, death, mental illness
______________________________________________
The first time she met Jimmy Crystal wasn’t one of real fear or dread; no grand speeches, no sermon, no religious guilt twisted into something wicked, no misremembered sermons or stories, or children’s TV shows; It was something softer. At least that’s how she’d recall it years later when she was still trying to love what remained of the man beneath the monster.
15 years after the initial outbreak:
The rain hadn’t stopped in days; dark clusters of clouds, barely lit by the failing sunlight as mist rippled over the hills, hanging low and blanketing the landscape.
Y/N hated it. It was the kind of rain that seemed determined to drown the world one drop at a time; the kind where the wind that comes with it is harsh and ice cold, biting at skin, and seeping through several layers of clothing.
Everything smelled damp.
Her clothes were damp.
Her boots were damp and her socks squelched when she moved.
Even the sleeping back she’d stolen from a dead campsite two years ago was damp.
She sat crouched behind the counter of an abandoned service station with a drying blanket wrapped around her shoulders; her cheeks pink from the cold, her breath billowing like mist with every exhale. The rusted kitchen knife she carried was sat across her lap, cold fingers gripping the wooden handle as tightly as she could despite how it was beginning to splinter under her hold.
The knife itself wasn’t much use. She knew that. If infected got in, she’d be dead. If she was ambushed, she’d be dead. If she slipped whilst scavenging and broke her ankle, she’d be dead, but it was the only weapon she had left.
That was the thing nobody talked about anymore; most people didn’t die dramatically, they died stupidly: a bad cut, rotten food, one wrong move- dead. The world had become efficient in killing people she thought.
A floorboard creaked somewhere beyond the counter. She sat up instantly; every muscle in her body tensing as her heart began to hammer. Silence followed and then came another creak, closer this time. Someone was inside, too light to be infected. Infected didn’t move carefully, they roared. This was worse; this was human.
The knife shook in her grip, either from fear or the cold, she was no longer sure. She tightened her hold, forcing her hand to still as the steps drew closer. Her stomach twisted; she’d been safe in her, alone, for two weeks; safer than most places at least.
The footsteps slowed; a long, almost painful silence followed as she took a breath, then came a voice-
“Ye know I can hear ye breathing?”
The voice made her jump, her elbow knocking back against the counter. Her body reacted before her mind did; she rose quickly, knife in hands that now didn’t shake, her face hardened,
“Don’t come any closer.” Her voice was strong despite the hammering behind her ribs.
“Alrigh’” The voice sounded surprisingly agreeable which somehow made it worse.
Y/N swallowed, her hands now trembling ever so slightly, “Who are you?”
The man paused, seconds passing before he answered, “Jimmy. Jus’ Jimmy.”
Y/N frowned in slight confusion; nobody was “just” anything anymore. She swallowed again before speaking, “What do you want?”
“Depends.”. The voice sounded almost amused now, “got any food?”
Y/N blinked. That wasn’t the answer she was expecting.
“No.”
The man let out a disappointed sigh, “ah. Shame.”
Silence stretched again before he spoke, “any tea?”
Y/N blinked, brows scrunched together. Was this man serious?
“No.”
“Oh for fucks sake.”
The genuine frustration almost made her laugh, her mouth twitching with an almost smile before she composed herself. The grip she had on the knife tightened, the wood of the handle creaking in her grip.
“Leave.” She said, her voice stern.
“No.”
“What?”
“No.”. The reply came back instantly, too matter of fact.
Anger flared through her, her heart beginning to hammer, “Are you deaf or something. I said leave.”
“Naw.”
“You can’t just say no!” She almost shouted, her chest heaving, breath still burning up through her lungs, curling like mist as she spoke. Who was this idiot? For a moment she wondered if he was concussed, or drunk; maybe both?
The floorboard creaked again; this time Y/N moved with it, moving around the counter, knife pointed in the direction of the man; tall, lean, broad shoulders hidden beneath an old tracksuit, a gold cross hanging around his neck. Blonde hair hung damply around his face, droplets of water fell from the loose waves. Blue eyes met hers, a small crooked grin covering his face before his eyes dropped to the knife in her hand.
“That’s no’ very practical.”
Y/N stilled, her shoulders tensing ever so slightly, “What?”
“The knife, lass. Too short.”
“I’m pointing a knife at you and you’re seriously critiquing it?”
Jimmy smiled, stepping closer ever so slightly, an eyebrow raised “Aye. A wee bit.”
Y/N held the knife higher. Jimmy stopped instantly, hands raised, “Easy there, lass.”
Y/N stilled again, her breathing deep as her eyes searched his, “Take one more step and I’ll stab you.”
It was Jimmy’s turn to still; a surprised smile layered across his face as he nodded thoughtfully, “aye, I don’t doubt it.”
The grin was far too relaxed, annoying in a way that made Y/N think he was enjoying this. It was something that made her angrier than it should have. The world had ended, people died everyday and this idiot was smiling like they were sharing a joke.
“What’s so funny?” She demanded.
“Nothin.”
“Then what’s with the grin? You think this is funny?” She demanded.
Jimmy shook his head, laughing lightly as he did, “No, no. I think ye’ve got a fire about you. Ye’re like a wee angry hamster.”
The insult hit her so unexpectedly she forgot to be scared, “what?”
“Aye. A proper angry one.”
“Get out.”
“I was just sayin-“
“Out.”
Jimmy’s brow moved in both amusement and surprise before he laughed. Genuinely laughed.
It should have unsettled her, but for a second, Y/N simply stared. The man was both intriguing and incredibly confusing. But for a brief moment all she could think about was the sound of his laughter; she couldn’t recall the last time she heard somebody laugh: not nervous laughter, not cruel laughter; real laughter. The sound seemed almost foreign to her after years alone, a sound she’d almost forgotten.
Jimmy’s laughter faded, their eyes met and for the first time, Jimmy’s smile disappeared.
His gaze lingered over her face. He noted the oversize coat she wore, the drying blanket still draped over her shoulders; her boots held together with string; her hollow cheeks, the almost distant gaze in her eyes, the exhaustion. Something shifted in his expression, not necessarily at her, but in understanding, a familiar loneliness.
He knew it.
Maybe better than anyone.
His voice was quieter when he spoke, “how long ye been alone?”
Y/N hated it immediately; the concern, the almost gentleness, but most of all she hated how easily he recognised it.
“None of your business.”
Jimmy nodded once, almost as if he accepted the answer. Then he reached around to the bag at his back; Y/N tensed immediately, knife raised again as she stepped forward.
Jimmy held up his hands, no smile this time. One hand remained up, palm towards her as the other reached around to his bag again, “easy lass. Here.”
Jimmy looked up at her, hair falling into his eyes as he pulled out a tin slowly, so slowly; eyes locked on her the entire time. He held her gaze as he placed it on the floor between them before stepping back.
The service station fell silent as rain hammered against the windows, wind rattling the thin frames as the silence stretched.
Neither of them moved; gazes still locked on each other; the tin sat between them. A peace offering. A trick. Both?
Y/N’s gaze lifted from Jimmy’s down towards the tin. Jimmy stepped back slightly, “ye looked hungry.”
Something twisted almost painfully in her chest. Because she was hungry, she’d been hungry for days but also because nobody had offered her anything in a very long time; at least not with wanting something in return.
Jimmy shifted awkwardly before straightening; tilting his head to look at her before he spoke, “Anyway. Am sleeping over there. You, ye’re sleeping over here, and we’re not tae stab each other. Understood, lass?”
Y/N stared at him. Suspicious, almost certain he was insane. The anger creeping back in as she stared at the now familiar grin on his face.
“There it is.”
“There’s what?” she almost barked back. Jimmy tilted his head again, the crooked smile widening on his face, “the wee angry hamster.”
Y/N was sure she’d stab him. She also couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth. She’d definitely been called worse.
This has been floating around in my head forever. There’s already a good chunk of this story just sat in my drafts🤠 let me know what you think! It’ll eventually tie in with the movie plot🖤
anyone interested in a Jimmy Crystal x female reader story that focuses on his life before the fingers? reader meets him before all of the craziness and it spans a good few years before he inevitably becomes sir lord and how she fits in with it all?
i can’t get the idea out of my head & i’ve already got a good few chapters lined up👀
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