How You Meet || George Miller x Reader Imagine (Filthy Frank)
Trigger Warning: Domestic Abuse
This was it. This was the last time that you had let Riley hit you. Of course, it had taken you getting knocked down and put damn near the brink of comatose, but you were done. He was on his fourth beer while you were packing your fifth shirt, the bedroom the two of you usually shared was now locked, with only you on the inside.
Riley and you had spent three years together, you started dating your junior year of highschool. Back then, he didn’t seem so bad. He would pick you up in his nice car his dad bought him, and you’d go to the football games or movies. He’d hug you goodnight with your parents nearly pouring out the kitchen window, only kiss you on the stairways of your school. You had given everything to him- your highschool social life, time, dedication, even your virtue.
It was only until after highschool that you realized you hadn’t give anything to him- he had taken it.
You thought back to the first time he ever hit you- his hair that was once beautifully well-kept, was now an oily mess as it fell to his face, his rage showing swiftly with his fists and body as he shoved himself forward and onto you. You couldn’t remember what the dispute was about, but you remembered how it was settled. His fists on your cheek and tears brimming your eyelashes.
Since then things hadn’t gotten better, by any means. He’d moved on to smacks, random hits when you said something he didn’t like, pushes when you wouldn’t get out of his way, he’d grab your phone out of your hand had he expected the slightest hint of infedelity. He’d threatened death.
Now, here you were in your car, drivng off from your apartment complex and going off into the pouring rain, going into the pouring rain with only your clothes, car, and your broken cellphone. Not that you could call anyone. Your family had abandoned you, your friends were too scared to come around, you weren't allowed to talk to your co-workers about anything not related to work.
You were so blinded by the love you had for Riley that you had let everyone else slip through your fingers. Everyone.
You didn't even have any money with you, it was in a vase in the living room, right next to the pile of empty beer cans. You wouldn't dare go back for it. But naturally, when it rains, it pours. You saw a flashing red light on your front dash, and you noticed something that caused your heart to stop. You were running very low on gas.
You had enough to pull into a gas station, at least a public place, instinctively you pulled up to a gas tank. You stood out of your car, legs trembling as you walked to the tank. You looked tragic, covered in bruises and scratches, the pajama shorts you were wearing going only to your mid-thigh. You were wearing a tan tanktop, which showcased the large hand shaped mark on your chest. As soon as you reached for your credit card, usually in your pocket, your heart sank.
It was gone.
Suddenly, all the anger that had been your motive for running turned to the realization that your entire life had fallen apart. That you had lost everyone, and you were only blaming yourself. Still. You were blaming yourself for wanting to see the best in someone, for trying to make them better, for wanting to be loved.
This was when you broke down. You leaned against your car, starting to sob, not realizing how noticeable it was, or what was going on around you, you were so devastated in this moment.
It seemed like hours, but a few minutes of you crying later, you heard someones voice. In terror that it was actually Riley, you shot up, backing against your car, before finally opening your eyes and seeing someone different. He was wearing a pink shirt and khaki pants, a lanyard and a hat that said '1989. You knew him, after your eyes processed, as filthyfrank.
"Are you okay?" He asked, before he himself noticed the bruises you were covered in. His grimace deepened.
"Did somebody hurt you?" He said when you didn't answer. You knew you couldn't lie. You merely nodded. His voice that was so authoriative and comical in his youtube videos, was gentle and empathetic. "Ian!" He said, motioning another person to get out of their car and walk over. It happened to be idubbbztv, but you were too upset to show any recognition.
"I.. left.. but I didn't have time to get my money.. m-my phone's broken.." You said through chokes of sobs, thinking to yourself just how pathetic you most of looked. What if they thought you were on drugs? Or lying? What if they just needed this gas pump?
"M-My car is out of gas, i can see it i can get it to go out of your way, just.. one sec, I'm so sorry." You began, George put his arm up in objection, causing you to flinch. Realizing he'd scared you, he gently touched your arm, swallowing the lump in his throat before shaking his head. His eyes were wide, he looked scared for you. Ian watched in silence.
"Do you have anyone you can go to? I'll pay for the gas, but I want to make sure you have someone to go too. What's your name?" He said, the offer of kindness caused you only to cry more. He had just met you!
"I don't have anyone.. he wouldn't let me around friends or family, they all h-hate me now.." You said, telling the truth to keep from it looking like you were lying. "My name is Y/N Y/L/N.."
"okay, okay. Y/N, I'm George and this is Ian. We're going to get you somewhere safe, and dry. Okay?" He was hushed, looking directly into your eyes to keep you calm. You nodded, looking over to Ian momentairly. How did he feel? Was he angry as George for this?
George asked for your keys, letting you stand with Ian as he drove your car as far as it could go from the pump. Out of their vehicle, he picked up a jacket, laying it across your shoulder. He picked up your small bag out of the car.
You were on the verge of passing out from the panic that was ensued from this, you were dizzy and still crying. George looked at you, and you swore you could see something that looked like a tear in his dark brown eyes.
"Ian and I are taking you to the hospital, and we'll figure something out from there.. alright..?" He said, not as much asking, but telling. You nodded your head once more. Opening the back car door and helping you inside, he turned to Ian.
"See if Max is at the airport, let him know where were going. When we get to hospital, you can go ahead and get him, ok?" He said, Ian nodded. He didn't seem angry, now that you looked at him. He seemed concerned.
George crawled into the back seat with you to watch you, making sure you didn't pass out, and that you were okay. "You're gonna be alright, Y/N." He said it twice, as if back to himself.
"Thank you..G-George." You said, he met gazes with you. Now, it was him that nodded.
That was the day you met George Miller.
howdy folks! sorry this one got dark. anyways, I actually am sort of proud of this one, let me know if you want a continuation of this imagine! Also, my personal imagines are still up for grabs, but if you want to make a personal request not through asks, you can ask on my kik, Cxncxrcrxw! Thank you for all your support, and I love all of faggots <3. I want you to know that if you are actually experiencing domestic abuse, that you are not stuck, and you can get help. I’m more than willing to help you, and you can talk to me. //
