#( i found her and now i'm just wheezing after searching )

[korinthiakos]

asthma is being a dick right now

[white-wolf-buckaroo]

Where the Flowers Don't Grow - Chapter 18

Word Count: 10.5k I'M SORRY (but all the chapters that are left from now on will be this long so better get used to it lol, I couldn't help myself).

Warnings: basically everything you should be warned about with TLOU, honestly.

Notes: As Dr. Strange once said... We're in the Endgame now (not actually now, but like, there aren't many chapters left :( enjoy!)

Fic Masterlist

Tommy was at his house when they came looking for him.

He usually wasn’t. Most days, someone from Jackson could find him patrolling the perimeter, checking the gates, helping out at the stables — always moving, always useful. But lately, he’d been keeping to himself more and more.

Not with Maria, of course. Never with Maria. She was around seven months along now, and he was trying — really trying — to be what she needed. Steady. Present. Hopeful.

But after a month of silence, after Joel and the girls hadn’t come back, something in Tommy had started to curl inward. In this world, when people were late, it didn’t mean they were stuck or delayed. It meant they were dead. Or close enough to it.

So he’d stayed home more. Worked with his hands just to give them something to do. Mended the same fence panel twice. Painted over chips that didn’t matter. Organized nails by size and then dumped them out to do it again. All the while, quietly grieving the brother he thought he’d lost — again — and the two girls who’d somehow clearly become close to Joel like no one had in many, many years.

And now, someone was knocking at his door.

The knock was hurried — frantic, even. Not the kind of knock you ignore. Tommy set the hammer down and opened the door to find one of the younger guards panting hard, hands braced on his knees like he’d run all the way from the gate.

“Tommy,” the kid wheezed. “They’re back.”

For a second, Tommy’s brain refused to catch up. “Who’s back?”

“Your brother. And the girls. They’re back, they just came through the gates not twenty minutes ago.”

Tommy’s stomach dropped. He grabbed the kid by the shoulder. “Where are they now?”

“The hospital,” the guard said quickly, eyes wide. “One of the girls — she’s got a gunshot wound in her shoulder. They brought her straight there.”

“Jesus,” Tommy muttered, already moving. He didn’t stop to close the door, it didn’t matter anyway, not there.

The kid shouted after him. “She’s okay, I think! She was walking on her own when they got in!”

That didn’t slow Tommy down.

By the time he rounded the last corner toward the hospital, a building they had improved with the little medical equipment they had found over the years, his heart was pounding harder than his boots on the dirt path. He immediately spotted Maria waiting for him at the entrance — her hands resting over her belly as she waited for him to appear around the corner.

“They’re inside,” Maria said softly, the moment she saw the look on his face. “They’re all here.”

Tommy stopped just short of the doors, breathing hard, eyes searching hers.

“They okay?” he asked, rushed. “One of the girls… a gunshot?”

Maria nodded. “Faith, yeah. They said it went clean through. No vital damage. She’ll be okay. Joel’s inside with her.”

And just like that, the wall he’d been quietly building around his heart for the past months cracked open.

Tommy pushed through the doors of the clinic, heart in his throat. Just down the hallway, slouched low in a chair with her arms folded tight across her chest, sat Ellie.

She looked up at the sound of the door and blinked like she’d just come out of a daze. Her eyes were ringed with exhaustion, she had a worn backpack by her feet on the floor, and her clothes looked like they had seen better days — but she was there, back in one piece.

“Ellie,” he said, already moving toward her. “You okay?”

She stood, a little stiff, clearly startled by the sound of her name — and even more startled when Tommy reached out and pulled her into a hug.

It was awkward. She didn’t really hug him back. Her arms sort of flinched upward like she didn’t know what to do with them, but she didn’t pull away either.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, really. Not about what could’ve taken them so long, not if they had managed to find or make a cure… He was only feeling glad she and Faith and Joel were back.

“I’m—yeah,” she muttered into his shoulder. “Fine.”

He let go but gave her a once-over. “You sure?”

“Just tired,” she said, glancing down the hall. “They’re in there.”

She jerked her chin toward a closed door a few steps away. But something about the way she said it — too quickly, too far removed — didn’t sit right. She hadn’t gone in with them. She wasn’t pacing or hovering the door. She was just... parked. Like she didn’t know where else to go.

Tommy frowned. “Thanks,” he said gently, squeezing her arm before heading down the hallway.

He knocked softly at the door before easing it open.

Inside, one of Jackson’s doctors — a wiry older woman in scrubs and glasses — was cleaning up what looked like a nasty but thankfully non-fatal bullet wound on a Faith’s shoulder. The girl was pale and clearly in pain, jaw tight as she winced against the pressure, but conscious. Sitting up. Tough kid.

Joel was beside her, hovering close, hand clenched white on the edge of the table. He looked ten years older than when Tommy had last seen him, eyes sharp with worry, voice low but firm as he questioned the doctor.

“How long until she can move it again? Any nerve damage? What about infection—?”

“She’s going to be fine,” the doctor cut in gently, with the kind of tired certainty that only came from patching up far too many wounds. “It went clean through, missed anything important. She’s lucky.”

Joel didn’t relax.

Just for a second, Tommy saw another room. Another time, with another little girl and a younger Joel.

Joel looked up then, as if he’d felt him at the door, and the moment their eyes met, the pressure broke. In two steps, the brothers were pulling each other into a hug.

No words. Just the kind of hold that says: You made it. I thought I’d lost you.

“You’re late,” Tommy muttered after a second, the crack in his voice betraying him.

Joel huffed something between a small laugh and a sob. “Traffic was hell.”

They both knew that if it had gone the other way — if this story had ended like so many others — they wouldn't be having this moment.

But they were. Somehow, they were.

Tommy stepped back slightly and let his eyes fall on Faith, who was still sitting on the table, her shoulder freshly bandaged and wrapped. Her face was pale, but there was that stubborn set to her jaw that said she’d push through it, no matter how much it hurt.

He gave her a small nod. “Hey, kid.”

She looked up at him, managing a weak smile. “Hi,” she said back.

The doctor finished up then, gathering her supplies and straightening her scrubs. “We’re going to keep her here at least overnight for observation. We’ve given her painkillers, but she may need more in a while.” She glanced at Joel. “She should rest for the rest of the day. If she’s okay by morning we’ll let her out. Make sure she takes it easy in the next few weeks. No heavy lifting for a while.”

Joel didn’t argue. “Got it. Thank you, ma’am.”

The doctor then headed out down the hall. Before leaving, she nodded toward the entrance. “Maria’s waiting. You should let her know what’s going on.”

Tommy’s face softened. “I will.”

The door clicked shut behind them, and Tommy looked around the room, feeling the weight of everything they’d all been through settle heavy between them.

“Anything I can do?” Tommy asked Joel quietly.

He had questions, so many goddamn questions popping up in his head, about what had taken them so long, if they had found the Fireflies or not, what had been keeping them away for this long… But this wasn’t the right moment to do so.

Not when this young girl was in a hospital bed. Not when Joel looked this haunted. Not when outside there was a kid who seemed so fucking lost she didn’t even know how to properly move her own limbs anymore.

Joel shook his head, but before he could answer, Tommy caught a flicker of something behind Joel’s eyes — the same unspoken burden they both carried.

“Just give us some time,” Joel said finally.

Tommy nodded, his gaze fixed on his brother as he moved with the practiced ease — ushering Faith to lay down gently, pulling a thin bedsheet over her as if the years hadn’t passed, as if he hadn’t stopped doing these kinds of things twenty years ago, pretending that part of him had stayed in the past, when he never really left the past behind.

He’d always be a dad. That’s what Joel was.

Tommy didn’t interrupt. Instead, he stepped back, the silence thick between them, and made his way toward the door.

Outside in the hallway, Maria was waiting, hands resting lightly over her rounded belly, calm but guarded. She was close to Ellie, but neither of them had said anything as they waited. When she saw Tommy, her expression softened, but the concern never left her eyes.

“She’s gonna be fine,” he said softly, approaching the two. “Doc wants to keep her overnight and they’ll release her by mornin’.”

Maria gave him a brief nod, relieved, before turning to look at Ellie, still sitting slumped in a chair nearby.

He approached slowly, not wanting to startle her. “Ellie,” he said gently. Hadn’t she heard him? “Faith’s all right. She’ll be okay.”

She blinked, pulling herself out of whatever fog she was in, and looked up at him with tired eyes. She nodded both at Tommy and Maria, and they could see she was glad to hear the good news… but it was like she was still hiding behind a shadow, something neither of them could name, but definitely could feel.

Tommy stepped back, but the question lingered in the air, unspoken: What the hell happened to the three of you? The broken edges, the wear on their faces — it wasn’t just the physical wounds. It was everything. And for a long moment, Tommy thought about the last months he’d spent waiting, waiting for this moment, for any sign that Joel was still out there — still alive, still fighting.

He took a breath and nodded again, this time to himself as much as anyone else. Some things could wait.

(…)

The light coming through the window was pale and soft, the kind of pale yellow that meant early morning. Faith stirred beneath the thin hospital blanket, her body stiff and sore in places she hadn’t even realized yesterday. The ache in her shoulder throbbed like a dull echo — not sharp, not blinding, but present. Enough to remind her it was real.

She blinked slowly at the ceiling above her, not sure where she was for a second. Not sure of anything, really.

Then her eyes shifted, and she saw him.

Joel.

He was slouched in the corner of the small room, one arm folded over his stomach and the other dangling by his side. His head was tilted against the wall at an awkward angle, and he was snoring softly.

Faith didn’t move, didn’t say anything. Just watched him for a second.

He looked... different. Not the hard, rigid Joel that the world usually made him be. He looked older, yeah, but also softer like this — jaw unguarded, brow smooth for once. She didn’t remember falling asleep after Tommy left. Just pain. A blur.

And now this. Him. Ellie, staying outside the room while a doctor came to see her. The hurt she’d felt when Ellie had taken a step back. Was she still outside? How long had she been out for, anyway? The light bathing the room made her believe it was early morning. Had she really been out since yesterday afternoon? She’d been exhausted, sure, but still, that was a lot of time.

A few minutes passed in silence until the door creaked open. The same doctor from the day before stepped inside, flipping through a clipboard before glancing up at her.

“Oh — good. You’re up.” She offered a polite smile and moved quietly toward the bedside. “How’s the pain?”

Faith shifted a little, wincing as she did. “Still there.”

“Expected,” the doctor replied, already checking the dressing over her shoulder. “We gave you painkillers, will give you some for when you leave, too. You’re lucky, you know that? Could’ve been worse.”

“Yeah,” Faith murmured. “That’s what they keep telling me.”

The woman nodded toward Joel without lowering her voice, offhandedly mentioning: “Your dad hasn’t left since they brought you in yesterday.”

Faith’s eyes flicked toward him again. “He, uh… He isn’t my dad,” she said quietly. “Don’t wake him up, please. He can use some sleep.”

The doctor gave her a knowing look. “Didn’t plan to. You can leave whenever he gets up. I’ve already signed your discharge.” She patted her good arm gently. “Take it slow. You’ve got a long few weeks ahead of you.”

Faith gave a slow, sleepy nod.

The doctor paused at the door, giving her a kind smile. “Good luck with everything. And welcome to Jackson.”

Faith didn’t have the energy to respond to that right away. She heard the soft click of the door closing behind the doctor. Then there was just the steady hum of the morning around her.

And Joel’s soft snores.

Faith leaned her head back against the pillow, letting her eyes fall closed again — not to sleep, just to rest a moment, not wanting to think about anything, just… to breathe. A few minutes later, the door creaked open again. This time, it was a younger nurse carrying a small tray. Oatmeal. Some sort of weak tea. Crackers.

“Morning,” the nurse said gently, setting the tray down on the little table beside the bed. “Try and eat a bit, if you can.”

Faith nodded, pushing herself up with a small grunt of effort and the nurse’s help. The motion must’ve stirred the air, because Joel shifted in his chair, let out a deeper breath — and blinked awake.

His eyes found her almost instantly.

“Hey” he said, voice still gravelly with sleep. He shook it off quickly, sitting forward, rubbing a hand over his face. “How’re you feelin’?”

The question was soft but immediate, carrying that familiar urgency beneath it. Something in her chest tightened at the way he said it — the worry in his voice, still lingering from the night before.

The nurse left the room, and then Faith looked at him over the rim of the cup as she took a sip from the tea, her throat tight. “Like someone sat on me and then punched me in the shoulder.”

Joel gave a quiet exhale that might’ve been a laugh. “Sounds about right.”

Faith looked down, swirling the tea a little in the cup. The silence that followed wasn’t heavy — but there was something unsaid in it.

“I’m sorry,” she said after a second, unable to hold herself back. “About yesterday. With Ellie. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Joel looked at her carefully, silent for a long moment, and then… he shook his head. “You did the right thing. You were braver than me, too. I shouldn’t have...”

He shouldn’t have lied to Ellie in the first place. He shouldn’t have made something up. He should’ve told her truth. He knew, he fucking knew… But now he couldn’t undo what he’d done, so he’d have to try to fix what he’d broken.

Still, Faith’s stomach twisted. She had felt that moment — felt Ellie’s disappointment, felt Joel’s lie collapse a little more, feeling guilty for it. She was scared she had betrayed his trust, or whatever they’d built between them. That he’d pushed him away too far out of reach. But now, in the morning light, with his eyes still warm with concern for her... there was something still there. Something gentle, warm, that made her think that maybe not everything was lost yet.

“The doctor came in earlier,” she added, after finishing her breakfast. “Said I can leave whenever you're up.”

Joel stood slowly, stretching the sleep from his limbs. “Good, uh… Tommy and Maria already got a house set up for us.”

“Already?” she asked, blinking.

He didn’t comment on it — just moved to her side, offering a steadying hand as she shifted to swing her legs over the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, uh, it’s not the same one as last time we were here, though,” he continued. “That one’s taken now. This one’s down the road a bit. But still close to them.”

Faith leaned into his arm as she stood, her legs unsteady under her. The painkillers were still in full effect — everything felt a little floaty, a little distant.

“How’s Ellie?” she asked after a few careful steps. “Is she okay? Where is she?”

Joel hesitated only a second. “She’s been sleepin’ at Tommy’s. Haven’t seen her since yesterday when she left with him.”

Faith nodded. That made sense. Still, she felt something cold slip behind her ribs.

Joel must’ve seen the shadow cross her face, because his hand on her arm steadied just a little more.

“Come on,” he said softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

The nurses gave them more painkillers to take with them, and Faith was glad Joel was there because she didn’t retain anything they told them about how often to take the pills, how many, when to change her bandages, when to come over again for a checkup… But he listened, said thank you for the two of’em, and led her outside carefully.

They were close to Main Street. There were a lot of people outside, like last time they’d been there. It was spring now, though, so there weren’t any snowmen built by kids, obviously. Just muddy puddles drying in the sun, some patches of green growing here and there, and the smell of damp wood and wet earth rising from the thawed ground.

Joel walked slow for her, one hand steady at her back as they stepped onto the porch outside the clinic.

She felt it immediately — the shift in attention.

People glanced their way. Not in a hostile way. Just… curious. Like the town had already heard the news about three people coming to Jackson yesterday, and not just three newcomers, but Tommy’s brother and the two girls that had also been there months ago…  and that they had absorbed the story of them into its bloodstream already overnight.

“Mornin’,” someone called out from a few feet away — a man in a flannel shirt stacking crates near a storefront. He gave a polite nod. “Heard you made it through. Glad you’re alright.”

Joel managed a quiet “thanks,” for the two of them.

Two women passed them near the Tipsy Bison, one carrying a baby, the other with a dog tugging at the leash. Both offered soft smiles as they passed.

“Morning,” the one with the baby said.

Faith blinked, surprised.

“Why are they all so… nice?” she whispered to Joel, feeling a bit ridiculous for having to ask.

He shrugged like it was nothing. “Small town things, I guess. You end up knowing everyone... whether you like it or not.”

Joel didn’t say much apart from that. Just kept walking beside her, making sure she didn’t stumble on the uneven boards or trip over a puddle. His hand never left her back.

“The house is on Rancher Street,” he said, glancing toward the hill that curved away from the main square. “Tommy said it’s the white one. Has a tree with pink flowers at the front, hard to miss. Not too far from his, too.”

Faith nodded, even though the words barely registered. The painkillers had her thoughts soft around the edges, like cotton stuffed into her ears.

They passed the stables. A few horses poked their heads over the fence. Further down, someone was fixing a broken shutter on a second-story window, waving a hammer in greeting as they walked past.

It was all so… normal. And weird. But she guesses that this was what normal was supposed to feel like.

Normal enough that it hurt a little because all that they’d missed out on until now.

Faith kept her eyes on the ground as they walked, focused on the rhythm of her steps. Joel stayed close — not talking, not rushing her. Just present. Solid.

“You good?” he asked her when she winced.

“Yeah,” she muttered. Why was she so tired again? It was like her body was deciding for her that she needed to rest. Maybe it was the tiredness she’d been carrying for years now, finally getting a toll on her. “Just tired.”

By the time they turned onto Rancher Street, her legs felt like rubber.

“There it is,” Joel said, pointing gently.

Tommy had been right, the house was hard to miss. Faith marvelled at the trees around it first, to be honest, contemplating the one with pink flowers in awe. Then she saw the white fence, an old mailbox, and the pathway to the house itself through the front garden. It was a two story house with a white facade and a dark greyish roof, with a chimney poking out at the top. The front door was white, with windows on the sides, and a few more extending around the first floor. Upstairs, she saw three more windows—three-room windows, perhaps? The window frames were a similar colour to the roof, and the porch veranda was painted the same shade. To one side was a garage, and there seemed to be a bit more of a garden in the back, with some plants peeking out over the edge of the house.

It was a beautiful house. Faith liked it instantly.

She wasn’t even sure what it was, exactly—maybe the way the garden curled around the path like it had always been waiting for someone to come home, or how the paint on the fence’s rail was chipped in a way that didn’t feel abandoned, just lived-in. And they could definitely fixed that with some work, they had Joel the contractor with them, after all.

The flowers on the tree out front swayed gently in the breeze, scattering a few petals along the walkway, like a quiet welcome.

And something in her chest loosened, just a little. She felt like this house… it fit. It just did.

Before they could make it all the way up the path, the front door opened. Tommy stepped out onto the porch, a half-grin on his face like he’d been watching for them. He lifted a hand in greeting and motioned them in.

“Bout time,” he called. “Y’all walk like you’re dragging through molasses.”

Joel didn’t dignify that with a reply—just gave him a tired look—but Faith saw the way the corners of his mouth twitched slightly. Not a smile, but close. A Joel smile she was familiar with.

“Come on inside,” Tommy said as they reached the porch steps. “Figured I’d show you around a bit before you crash,” he patted Joel’s shoulder and smiled at Faith. “Glad to see you up again, Faith.”

She returned the smile weakly, thanking him. Joel helped Faith up the steps carefully, her legs still wobbly, but the hand at her back never faltered. When they stepped through the front door, the air inside the house smelled faintly of old wood and something warm.

And then Faith saw Maria.

She was just rounding the corner from what looked like the kitchen, her hair braided like Faith remembered it from months ago, wearing a soft, knitted sweater and loose pants. Her bump was unmistakable now— and Faith’s eyes widened when her eyes landed on it.

“Oh,” she said before she could stop herself.

Maria caught the reaction and smiled warmly, resting a hand over her belly. “Yeah,” she said with a chuckle. “Baby’s gotten a bit bigger since we last saw each other, huh?”

Faith blinked, then caught herself and shook her head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... You look great, really good.”

Maria laughed. “I’ll take that. Thanks.”

Before Faith could say anything more, movement caught her eye. She turned slightly to the side—

—and then saw Ellie.

She was standing inside the living room, hands buried in the pockets of her hoodie. Her shoulders were hunched a little. She didn’t look angry like she expected her to, not exactly, just... uncertain. Awkward. Like she wasn’t sure what to say or how to act.

Their eyes met. Neither of them moved.

Faith felt her breath hitch just slightly in her throat.

“Hi,” she told her, softly.

Ellie shook her head in greeting at her, staying put. “Hey,” her eyes looked up briefly to Faith’s shoulder, nodding towards it. “You okay?”

“It’s better now,” she answered, trying to meet Ellie’s eyes, to no vail. “Thanks,”

Joel greeted Ellie too, and she also returned the salute with another small ‘hey’, but nothing else came out of her.

Tommy and Maria exchanged looks, then. Seems like they’d have to take the lead.

“Let’s take a look around the house,” suggested Maria, smiling, trying to lighten the mood. “Yes?”

Joel shook his head no. “Faith has to rest. She’s a bit wobbly.”

She wanted to shake her head and say she wasn’t… but lying probably wasn’t the best idea right now.

“You can go have some sleep upstairs,” said Tommy, resting a hand on Faith’s good arm. She flinched just slightly at the sudden contact, instinctively moving closer to Joel, and her cheeks reddened when the others noticed. Tommy didn’t say anything, neither did Maria, and he just put his hand away slowly, making sure to stay in Faith’s line of sight, realizing there was something… wrong. “You can take a look around the house later, there’s no rush.”

Maria nodded, her voice gentle. “There’s tree bedrooms upstairs. Working bathrooms with hot water, power runs fine, and the roof doesn’t leak. We made sure it was one of the better ones.”

Joel gave a quiet ‘thanks’ as he started guiding Faith toward the staircase, but she paused, glancing back toward Ellie. She didn’t want to go up without her, and just go and choose a bedroom without asking her. Maybe it was dumb, but… it felt like the kind of thing that mattered right now. They were here to stay, right?

“Hey,” she said softly, turning halfway around to face her. “You wanna come? Choose a room?”

Ellie blinked, a bit thrown off by the question.

“I mean—if you’ve already picked one, that’s totally fine,” Faith added quickly, trying not to sound like she was treading too carefully. “Just… thought I’d ask.”

Ellie shrugged, eyes darting to the stairs, then back to Faith. “I, uh, dunno. Doesn’t really matter.” she hesitated, shifting her weight from one foot to the other. “But, uh, the second one’s got a window seat. Thought you’d probably like that. I left your backpack there already.”

Faith looked at her for a beat longer, then gave a small smile. “Okay. I’ll take that one, then.”

Joel’s hand stayed steady at Faith’s back as they walked upstairs, never rushing her. The house had a beautiful staircase, with a railing that went up all the way to the landing, from which a mezzanine expanded into a hallway to the bedrooms and bathrooms. The steps creaked softly under their weight as they walked up, glancing at the wide wooden beams on the ceiling, extending cross shaped between the four walls.

When they reached the second bedroom door, Joel pushed it open for her.

The room was simple—just a bed, a small dresser, and a narrow desk with a worn leather recliner chair. The walls were cream coloured, the floor dark wood like in the rest of the house. Faith saw her backpack on the floor, right under the window seat Ellie had mentioned, its big window open a crack, letting in the fresh spring air and the sunlight, which pooled on the wooden floor like melted gold.

It was quiet. Peaceful. Like a dream.

Faith stepped inside slowly, taking it all in. Joel followed close, letting the door swing open behind them.

She turned to face him. “It’s nice,” she murmured, like she didn’t want to speak too loud and break the stillness of it. “Really nice.”

Joel gave a quiet nod, his gaze scanning the room once before landing back on her. “Feels good?”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “Feels… right.”

And she wasn’t just saying it. The light, the air, the quiet—it all made her feel like maybe they could breathe here. They had a lot to talk about still, but this place… it felt like a good place for a new beginning.

She moved toward the bed and sat down carefully, exhaling slowly when her body finally gave in and let her rest. Joel crouched to set down the bag with meds the clinic had given them on the bedside table, then looked up at her. “You need anything, you call out. I’ll have Tommy show me around the house a bit, okay?.”

Faith nodded. “Thanks, Joel.”

He stayed kneeling for another beat, just watching her. Then, like it was something he couldn’t help, he reached out, brushing a bit of hair away from her face.

“Try and get some rest, alright?”

She didn’t say anything, just leaned into the touch a little as he rested his hand on her cheek.

When he stood and stepped out, the room felt just a bit emptier without him in it—but not in a bad way. Just quieter.

She looked out the window for a long while after that, letting herself settle into the silence, into the safety. Into the idea of this place maybe being home. Then she sunk into the mattress… and fell back asleep.

(…)

Ellie’s night at Tommy and Maria’s had been awkward.

Not bad, really, just… weird. Quiet. Like everyone was being extra careful not to say the wrong thing around her. They didn’t ask questions. Didn’t push. Although they clearly had questions to ask. Maria had prepared for her a spare room they were remodelling into a nursery, and let Ellie be; she’d taken it without complaint, curling under the covers and facing the wall. It was the most peace she’d had in days, even if her brain wouldn’t shut up long enough to enjoy it.

In the morning, they’d woken her gently — Maria’s voice soft like she was dealing with a spooked horse — and offered her breakfast. Eggs, toast, real butter. Tommy had put some bacon on her plate like it was a delicacy, which nowadays, it was. She liked it, although… she couldn’t really enjoy much of the food. Which was a pity, because it was really good.

No one forced conversation. Tommy had made one lame joke about being out of jam and how “Jackson’s clearly in crisis,” but otherwise, they left her to eat in silence. She appreciated that more than she could say.

Then they took her to the house.

The one they were giving to her, Joel, and Faith.

Their house.

And for a second, Ellie had felt... okay. Almost happy. The idea of the three of them staying together, under one roof, in one place that didn’t smell like mold or blood or smoke... it was nice. It felt stupid to admit it even to herself, but it was.

But then the thought came crawling back in, slow and cold.

Joel had lied to her.

He’d looked her in the eyes and told her something she’d tried her best to believe. And whatever had happened at that hospital—whatever made Faith come out of there all torn up and with a gunshot wound—she was almost sure it hadn’t been clean.

Maybe they had saved her. Maybe they hadn’t.

But Ellie hadn’t gotten a choice about it. And part of her still wasn’t sure she was allowed to be angry about it.

So, she shoved the feeling down again, where it belonged until it was the right time to let it out, and followed Tommy and Maria through the house.

It was... nice. Nicer than she expected.

It had a real porch out front. The kind of place you’d see in an old-timey movie, where people drank lemonade and waved at neighbours. Inside, the floors creaked in a way that felt familiar. The living room had wide windows and a fireplace. Nothing fancy, but it didn’t need to be.

There was a coat rack by the front door and a rug that was worn but soft. The staircase to go upstairs was made of dark, strong wood, and there were some paintings hung on the walls leading upstairs, mostly peaceful oil landscapes on canvas.

The kitchen was big, too. And it had a big dining room as well, big enough for all three of them, plus Tommy, Maria and their future baby to sit down and eat like a family.

Ellie wasn’t sure what to make of that.

Upstairs, Maria pointed out the bedrooms — three in total.

“Figured it’d be good for the long term,” she said. “You’ll each have your own space. Bathroom’s up here too. Hot water running just fine.”

Ellie didn’t say much. Just nodded, let her eyes drift over the rooms.

The second bedroom had a big window facing east. Light pooled in through it like the sun had decided this was its favourite spot in the whole house. It made the room feel warmer than the others.

She thought, for a second, that Faith would probably like that. But she didn’t say it aloud. She left her backpack there, though, for her to find later. It already felt like it belonged there.

Maria was showing her the backdoor to the garden when they heard Tommy open the front door, talking to someone.

It had to be Joel. And Faith, too, probably.

Ellie’s stomach twisted, like it didn’t know whether to jump or sink.

She waited for them in the living room, almost hiding. Maria welcomed them at the entrance, and then Faith saw Ellie.

Ellie was happy that Faith was already out of the clinic, of course. It was fucking great news. And even though she looked tired as fuck, she was up and standing, which was was counted. Ellie avoided her gaze, though, and Joel’s. Fortunately he led Faith up pretty fast to let her rest, and a few minutes later only Joel walked back downstairs.

Ellie didn’t look at him.

And Joel didn’t look at her either.

She stayed by the bookshelf in the living room,  running her fingers along the spines like she was actually reading the titles — a few had dust jackets so faded you could barely make out the covers. One was a gardening manual with pages yellowed and brittle. Another was a mystery novel with a knife on the cover. Its title was ‘stabbed in the back’. She paused at that one.

Huh, fitting.

Tommy gave Joel a quick tour around the house. She heard their voices — low and careful — going from the dining room to the kitchen and then to the pantry a bit further. Whatever they were talking about, it wasn’t for her to hear.

Maria stayed close. Not hovering, but near enough to feel like a shadow at the edge of Ellie’s space.

“You like books?” Maria asked eventually, voice quiet.

Ellie shrugged without turning around. “They’re fine.”

“You’ll find plenty here if you’re into them. We’ve got a decent library.”

Another shrug.

Maria didn’t press. Just stood there with her arms crossed lightly over her chest, right over her belly, watching her.

“It’s great that Faith’s out of the clinic already,” she said after a beat.

Ellie glanced sideways, cautious. “Yeah.”

Maria gave a small nod. “She’s lucky to have you.”

Ellie didn’t say anything.

After a moment, Maria checked the clock on the wall. The hands had just ticked past midday.

She clapped her hands lightly once, decisive. “Alright. C’mon.”

Ellie blinked. “What?”

“Let’s go get you all some food at the hall before the lunch rush.” She was already moving toward the front door, grabbing a light jacket she’d left there earlier from the hook. “It’s better hot, and I’m not in the mood to reheat leftovers.”

Ellie hesitated, her mouth half-open like she might argue.

Maria didn’t give her the chance.

“Tommy?” she called, raising her voice a bit. “I’m taking Ellie out. Get us all something to eat. You two stay put in case Faith needs anything.”

Tommy stepped out from the kitchen doorway, already agreeing. Joel came up behind him, still saying nothing. His expression was unreadable, stoic, quiet.

Maria gave him a quick once-over and raised a brow. “That alright with you?”

Joel glanced at Ellie, then away again. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

His voice was low, even. Civil. But it still made something flicker in Ellie’s chest.

She swallowed it down.

Tommy nodded. “We’ll keep an ear out. You two take your time.”

Maria opened the door for her. “C’mon,” she said again, and this time Ellie followed without a word. Maybe it wasn’t a bad idea. She understood now what adults meant with ‘needing some fresh air’.

As they stepped outside, Ellie didn’t look back, didn’t have to, but she could feel Joel watching her go.

Ellie followed Maria down the porch steps and into the sun without really thinking about where they were going. She kept her eyes mostly on the ground, kicking at the gravel with the tips of her sneakers.

They turned a corner past a couple of houses, then crossed a little path where a few kids were playing with a ball. One of them waved at Maria and called her name, and Maria smiled, raising a hand back. The kids turned their heads to glance at Ellie, wide-eyed and whispering once she passed. She didn’t blame them. It wasn’t every day someone new showed up in town looking like a kicked dog.

It wasn’t until they took another turn and passed a fenced field that Ellie realized something was off.

They weren’t heading toward the food hall.

She slowed her pace and frowned. “Hey… wait. Where are we going?”

Maria glanced back over her shoulder, not breaking stride. “Figured we do have a bit of time before the food rush. Thought we’d make a quick stop first.”

Ellie narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t the food hall,” she pointed out.

“Nope,” Maria said. “We’re going to the stables.”

“The stables?”

“You’ll see.”

They walked a few more steps in silence before it clicked. The shape of the barn ahead, the smell of hay drifting through the air, the distant, familiar huff of horses shifting in their pens. They approached the stalls, and after passing by a few horses Maria turned around to Ellie, giving her a small knowing smile. “Thought you might want to say hi.”

Two steps ahead, and then, there she was.

Shimmer.

Ellie recognized her immediately. She was bigger now, but she still had the same big white spot between her eyes. No longer the gangly foal Ellie had met back in the winter, tripping over her own legs. Still not full-grown, but already strong-looking, with long legs, a silky chestnut coat, and eyes that lit up when she saw them. Her ears perked. She gave a low, friendly whinny and took a step forward in her stall.

Ellie felt something pull loose in her chest. She stepped closer.

“Holy shit,” she breathed. “She got so big.”

“Told you they grow fast,” Maria said. “She remembers you too, I think.”

Ellie reached a hand over the stall door, and Shimmer pressed her nose into it without hesitation. Her fur was warm and a little dusty. Ellie smiled, and for the first time that day, it wasn’t forced.

“She was just this tiny thing,” Ellie said softly. “Like... she couldn’t even keep her legs straight.”

“She’s been stubborn as hell, too. Bit one of the ranch hands trying to saddle her last week.”

Ellie laughed — a real laugh, small and surprised. “Good girl.”

Maria leaned on the stall beside her, watching the two of them. “We’ve been training her slow. She’ll be ready for real rides soon.”

Ellie ran her fingers along Shimmer’s jaw, and the horse nudged her hand again, insistent. Ellie snorted. “Yeah, yeah. Missed you too, dummy.”

Maria stayed back, watching quietly. This was the most at peace Maria had seen Ellie since she’d arrived. And it struck her then, sharply, how different Ellie looked from the last time they’d been here. Back in December, she’d lit up around the foal instantly — a spark of joy that had caught Faith’s smile too, the two of them laughing like they didn’t care the world was ending. They’d been close. Tight in a way that felt older than it had any right to be. Now, something had broken. Maria didn’t know what had gone wrong out there — not exactly — but she could see the fallout clear as day. Joel was hollowed out. Faith was walking like a ghost, flinching at anyone’s touch except Joel’s. And Ellie… Ellie looked like she’d been holding her breath for too long.

Whatever had happened between them — Joel, Ellie, Faith — she hoped to God it wasn’t beyond fixing. Joel was Tommy’s brother. Tommy was her family. And the girls… well, they were Joel’s family too now, whether Joel said it out loud or not. You didn’t go through what they’d gone through together and come out anything less than bound. Maria had seen the way Joel had gone with Faith into that clinic like the world might stop if he dropped her. And she’d seen the quiet devastation in Ellie’s face when she looked at him that morning — the ache of a trust cracked clean through. Maybe it wasn’t her business, technically. But if they were staying — if they were going to make Jackson their home — then it mattered. Because family mattered. Even the broken kinds. Especially those.

Maria let the moment sit a little longer before checking the clock on the stable wall, sighing. “Alright,” she said gently. “Let’s go get something to eat, yeah? Baby’s kicking me in the ribs already, need to give him some mashed potatoes before his patience runs out.”

Ellie gave Shimmer one last pat, nodding. “See you later,” she mumbled. The horse neighed, as if saying goodbye as well.

She followed Maria out into the sunlight again, the tension in her shoulders eased just slightly — not gone, not forgotten, but softened. Like maybe, just maybe, not everything in Jackson had to hurt.

(…)

“Joel… What the hell happened?”

The Miller brothers were sat at the breakfast table in the kitchen, a beer in both of their hands that Tommy had pulled out of the freshly stocked fridge.

What the hell had happened? That was the fucking question, wasn’t it?

Joel stared at the brown glass bottle between his fingers, condensation beading at the neck. The fridge hummed softly in the background, the only sound for a long beat. His mind turned over the question, not because he didn’t have answers, but because he had too many. Because he didn’t know where to begin.

“It’s been five months,” he said finally, voice low and hoarse like it had rusted somewhere along the way. “Feels like five years.”

Tommy didn’t speak — just waited.

Joel exhaled slowly through his nose, then rubbed the heel of his hand over his jaw. “After we left that morning, in December… We headed to the University, like you told us. To find the Fireflies.”

Tommy’s brow furrowed. “And did you?”

Joel gave a short nod, eyes still fixed on the bottle. “Sort of. By the time we got there, they were already gone. Packed up and left. Left some notes behind — maps, logs. They were headin’ to Salt Lake City.”

“So that’s where you went?”

“Yeah,” Joel said. Then hesitated. “But not right away.”

Tommy leaned back slightly, catching the shift in his brother’s tone.

“When we tried to leave the university,” Joel continued slowly, “we got ambushed. Group of survivalists, maybe scavengers. Hard to say. One of ‘em came at the girls, and I—”

He broke off, jaw clenched, and his eyes flicked to the side. Not at Tommy.

“I killed him.”

The silence between them deepened.

Joel took a breath, forced it through. “Bastard had a broken bat — jammed it into my side. Deep. Thought that was it. Was too fucking weak to keep up, and the girls had to drag me to a house for shelter while I kept bleedin’ out like a dog. I told them… I told the girls to go. To come back here. Told ‘em to find you.”

He finally looked up, meeting Tommy’s eyes for the first time since he’d sat down. “They didn’t.”

Tommy’s throat worked, but he said nothing.

“They saved me,” Joel said, voice raw. “Patched me up. I could barely stay awake, let alone protect ‘em. But they did it anyway.”

He paused, swallowing hard, scrubbing a hand down his face. “I don’t even know how long I was out. I guess we were gonna wait a few more days before movin’ again, but then—”

He stopped. His hand curled around the bottle, white-knuckled.

“They found us. The group the man I killed belonged to. Found the house. Took the girls while I was too weak to move.”

Tommy stiffened. “Jesus, Joel.”

“I went after ‘em,” Joel said simply. “Tracked them to an old resort, not far. They’d split the girls up. I found Ellie first, so fucking shaken… I still don’t really know all the details, but Tommy… She had to do something real bad to get out of there. I can still see it in her, you know? That… haunted look.”

The same one he had himself when he glanced into a mirror.

He stared at the table, voice turning colder. “I found Faith after. Blood and bruises all over her. I still get sick just remembering how bad she looked. They had...” his voice choked painfully. “… If Ellie hadn’t killed the bastards who’d touched her like that, I would’ve myself.”

Tommy’s hands clenched on the table. He didn’t speak either. His jaw was tight. Now he understood Faith’s flinching from earlier, and even though he hadn’t known, he felt guilty for touching her arm without permission after what she’d been through.

“I got them both out,” Joel said, quietly. His voice cracked, the words landing with quiet finality. “But I should’ve gotten there sooner.”

Another beat passed, then Joel cleared his throat, forced himself to keep going. “We stayed put for a while after that. They were both too hurt.”

Tommy’s voice was hushed now. “How long?”

“Don’t know. We didn’t count days. But the snow was gone when we finally moved at a good pace again. Spring was already comin’ in.”

Joel finally drained the rest of the beer, set the empty bottle down with a hollow clink.

“Then we got to Salt Lake. Found the Fireflies, or more like, they found us.” He scoffed bitterly. “And that’s a whole other story.”

He didn’t continue yet. The weight of everything already said hung thick in the kitchen air. And Tommy — he was still staring at him, slowly beginning to understand just how far things had gone.

Joel met his eyes, finally. “They had a hospital runnin’ by what was left of ‘em. Marlene was there. She said they could make a cure. That Ellie was the key.” Joel’s jaw clenched.

“So? It’s possible?”

“There was a hook,” he added, quietly, staring down at his hands. “To make the cure… Marlene told me they needed… That they needed Ellie’s brain. Because that’s where Cordyceps fucking grows. They had to kill her to try and make the cure.”

Tommy didn’t react at first. Didn’t breathe, even. “Jesus Christ.”

“I didn’t let ‘em,” Joel said simply. “I got her out. Got Faith out too. Faith and I…,” a flash of Faith’s stance in the hospital crossed through his mind like a bullet. Rifle up firmly. Her finger pulling the trigger without mercy. “We got to Ellie. That’s what matters. When we left there was one last Firefly who tried to stop us. That’s when Faith got shot.”

Tommy swore under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “And the Firefly—?”

Joel just shook his head. He didn’t want Tommy to know the exact expanse of what he and Faith had done at the hospital. He didn’t want Tommy to see Faith like… like he saw him.

So he only referred to the massacre as his doing. Joel’s voice cracked slightly, like the words had cut him on the way out.

“I killed them all, Tommy. Every last one of them. The ones who knew, the ones who helped. The doctor. Marlene.” He shook his head. “I just wanted ‘em safe.”

Tommy was silent again, absorbing it. Then, the hardest question of them all. “And I guess that… Ellie doesn’t know all this? That’s why she’s so distant?”

Joel’s shook his head. “She doesn’t really know, no, not really. I told her they’d stopped looking for a cure. That there were more people like her and that… that it hadn’t worked.”

Tommy stared at him for a long moment. “Joel…”

“I know,” Joel snapped, not angry at Tommy, just at himself. “I know. I shouldn’t’ve lied. But she’s a kid. And I thought… I thought I was doin’ the right thing.”

“And now?”

Joel leaned back, eyes fixed on the wall like he could see everything that had led him here painted on it. “Now she barely looks at me. I didn’t tell Faith I had lied to Ellie, so when she found out… She didn’t cover for me. Don’t blame‘er, really. I shouldn’t have lied in the first place. Because now Ellie won’t speak to me. And I can’t blame‘er for that, as well.”

He swallowed hard. “I’ve lost people before, you know that better than anyone, but this is different. She’s still here, and I’m still losin’er.”

Tommy set his beer down gently, realization hitting him. “You love her. Both of them.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He felt towards them as… as he felt for Sarah. That was the only way to name it. And he loved Sarah more than anything else in the world. He nodded once, slowly. “Yeah. I do.”

Tommy nodded, thoughtful. “They’re tough, both of them.”

Joel looked down at his beer again. “They shouldn’t have to be.”

They sat in silence a while longer, the fridge still buzzing softly, the weight of five months and five hundred choices hanging between them like smoke.

Then Tommy leaned forward and said, quietly, “So what now?”

Joel didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the scratched table between them, and whispered, “I try to fix it. If I still can. I just… Don’t know how.”

(…)

Faith woke with a slow blink, her lashes fluttering against the pillow. The room was dim except for the light coming from a small lamp on the bedside table, and her body felt sunk into the mattress like it had been poured there. Heavy. Rested. Groggy as hell.

Her shoulder throbbed — a deep, steady burn pulsing just beneath the skin — and she groaned quietly, turning her head. Yeah. Time for another painkiller.

It was dark outside. Through the thin gap in the curtains, she could see the faint glow of streetlamps and the moonlight silvering the edges of the windowpane. Definitely night. Again.

She exhaled, annoyed to realize she’d been out for hours. Again. At least she wasn’t bone-deep exhausted anymore, just floaty and disoriented. Silver linings, or whatever.

Dragging herself up slowly, she noticed a note folded neatly on the bedside table, written in careful block letters.

‘Food’s in the fridge downstairs. Heat it up and eat before taking any more pills.’

She squinted at it, lips quirking faintly. Joel’s handwriting.

Still a little hazy, she pushed the blankets aside and rose to her feet, padding quietly down the stairs in her socks with the painkiller bag from the clinic in hand, taking it with her. A couple of warm lights were still on, casting a soft amber glow down the hall and into the kitchen, which she easily found after crossing the dining room. The house smelled like wood, clean soap, and something vague like food — whatever they’d eaten earlier while she slept.

The fridge was easy to find, too. Using the microwave, less so.

She stood in front of it with the dish in her hand and a furrowed brow, staring at the buttons like they were mocking her. The stupid thing blinked "10:21 PM" in green digital judgment. She hit one button. Then another. The microwave beeped angrily. She frowned harder.

“Need a hand?” came a familiar voice from the doorway.

Faith jumped slightly, the dish clutched tight between her fingers.

Joel was standing there, leaning one shoulder against the frame, arms crossed. His eyes were tired but soft, and the corner of his mouth curved upward as he looked at her.

“You look like you’re about to declare war on it.”

She gave the microwave a withering glare. “I might.” Then, grumbling under her breath: “Who even makes these things so complicated?”

Joel chuckled, stepping into the kitchen. “C’mon, kid. Let me help before you break it.”

He walked over and gently took the dish from her hands, — some kind of stew, thick and hearty, with mashed potatoes as a side, along with some vegetables. He set it inside the microwave with ease, punched a few buttons, and the machine hummed to life.

Faith watched closely, tilting her head. “So… it’s just time and power?”

“More or less,” Joel said, glancing at her with a half-smile. “Not too different from lightin’ a fire. Just… buttons instead of matches.”

She made a face. “Yeah, but fire doesn’t beep at you when you get it wrong.”

Joel chuckled again, a soft sound that rumbled low in his chest. He leaned back against the counter, arms folding loosely. “How’d you sleep?”

She shrugged her good shoulder. “Out cold. Woke up feeling like a corpse. So… great, I guess.”

He nodded, the smile in his eyes never quite fading. “That’s good. You needed it.”

Faith looked at him, then glanced around the quiet house, her voice dropping as she asked, “Where’s Ellie?”

“Upstairs,” Joel said, glancing in the direction of the staircase. “In her room.”

Faith blinked. The words echoed in her head, oddly surreal. Her room. As if that were just… normal now. As if any of this was. Joel. Ellie. A house. A microwave. A room to sleep in that wasn’t someone else’s, or borrowed, or temporary. Like something from a movie — or maybe a dream.

She didn’t say anything, just nodded once, pressing her fingers lightly to the edge of the kitchen counter.

When the microwave beeped, Joel stepped forward, pulling the dish out carefully and setting it on the counter. He grabbed a fork and a knife from the drawer, then paused, glanced at her shoulder.

“Sit,” he said gently. “I’ll bring it.”

Faith didn’t argue. She lowered herself into one of the chairs at the breakfast table by a window, and a moment later Joel set the plate and fork in front of her. The food smelled warm, rich — delicious, in a way that made her stomach twist a little.

He pulled out the chair beside her and sat down, silent but steady, staying close without crowding. When she hesitated, trying to manage the fork and the knife in her hands, Joel quietly reached over and cut up the pieces that needed it, pushing them back toward her without a word.

“Thanks,” she said, softly.

“Don’t mention it.”

So she didn’t.

He got her a glass of water too, to chug down the painkillers once she was done eating. Joel got up again one last time once she was done with her dinner, moving with quiet, unhurried purpose as he returned to the fridge. Faith heard the soft clatter of a plate being set down, followed by the low hum of the microwave starting up again.

He came back with a warm slice of pie — apple pie— the crust golden and flaky, faintly steaming. He slid it in front of her along with a clean fork, offering a small shrug.

“Warm pie just tastes better.”

Faith blinked at it, then at him, and then her lips twitched into the smallest smile. “Didn’t realize you were a dessert guy.”

Joel shrugged, a small smirk playing on his lips. “Can’t be from Texas and not like pie.”

She took a bite. He wasn’t wrong — it was better warm. Softer, sweeter somehow. She let the silence stretch a bit while she chewed, the sounds of the house around them gentle and still. Joel didn’t move from his spot beside her, just watched like he was cataloguing every little sign that she was okay.

Then, footsteps.

Faith looked up just as Ellie padded into the kitchen, still in the clothes she’d been wearing earlier but her hair now loose, her expression tight with something unreadable.

She paused mid-step when she saw them. Faith with her pie, Joel sitting close, the warm kitchen glow casting shadows under their eyes. Ellie’s hands fidgeted at her sides like she hadn’t meant to intrude but had already walked too far in to turn around now.

The three of them froze for a beat.

Then, all at once:

“Hey.”

“I was just—”

Joel exhaled quietly. “Ellie.”

Faith straightened a little in her chair. “You okay?”

Ellie nodded, then shook her head, then finally crossed the kitchen and grabbed a glass from the shelf. “Just came for some water,” she mumbled, voice hoarse. “I should be the one asking you that, anyways. You’re the one who got shot, not me.”

There wasn’t any bite to her words, but still… they weren’t as humorous as they usually were, coming from her.

Joel stood to help, but she waved him off gently, already moving to the sink to fill the glass. The running tap filled the space between them for a moment, a brittle kind of hush.

Then Ellie turned, her back to the counter, fingers curling around the rim of the glass.

“I can’t keep up like this,” she said suddenly, quietly. Her eyes lifted, not accusing but aching. “I know something happened. I do, just not exactly what. And I need to know… I need to know what happened in Salt Lake, in the hospital. The truth, for once… Please.”

Faith felt her chest go tight.

“I keep thinking,” Ellie went on, “maybe if I could just remember it — maybe then I’d understand. But I can’t. I try and I try, and all I have is that feeling. That something went wrong.” She swallowed hard. “So please. Just tell me.”

Joel’s hand flexed on the table. Faith looked over at him, and he was already staring at her.

She gave a tiny nod.

Joel cleared his throat. “Ellie…” he began, voice low, rough at the edges. “There’s… a lot we could say. But the truth is — you were gonna die in that hospital. That’s what they wanted.”

Ellie didn’t flinch. Just waited.

Faith took a slow breath. “They thought they could make a cure. But… it would’ve killed you.”

Joel looked at her again, like checking if it was okay to go on. She met his gaze, steady.

“So we stopped it,” Faith said.

Joel nodded once. “I couldn’t… We couldn’t let them take you.”

“You’re not just…” Faith added, faltering a little. “You weren’t just some chance at a cure. You’re you.”

Ellie stared at them, unmoving. Then she whispered, “So the Fireflies… they were really gonna…”

“Yeah,” Joel said, voice barely audible. “They were.”

The silence that followed was different. Deeper. Like something had split open between them — painful, but necessary.

Ellie stared down at her glass for a long moment. Then, finally, she walked to the kitchen island, climbed onto one of the stools, and sat.

“I’m not mad, I think,” she said quietly. “Not at you for wanting to protect me. I… I get that. I would’ve done the same for the two of you,” that at least, she was sure of. However… “But I should’ve had had the chance to choose if I wanted to die or not. To help them, or not.

“Ellie –”

“No,” she cut. “That was my choice. Mine.”

“They wouldn’t have told you, either,” Joel said. “They had sedated you without telling you anything. The drugs you had in you when you woke up in the car, they’d given them to you to prep you for surgery. Without even asking you if you wanted to do it or not.”

He and Faith hadn’t let her choose, true, but neither did the Fireflies. If it were for Marlene, Ellie would be dead by now. Maybe they could’ve made a cure, which could’ve also failed… They didn’t even really know if it would work, and still Ellie would’ve had died, for nothing.

Deep down, Ellie understood that. She did. She was smart, understood the facts they laid out to her. But she was also stubborn, single-minded, and young. So fucking young, she needed more time to process what she was feeling to understand it herself before being able to process anyone’s else’s lines of thought.

Faith looked at her across the warm kitchen, the half-eaten pie cooling on the plate in front of her.

“For what it counts, I’m sorry that no one gave you the chance to choose,” she said. “But I don’t regret saving you. Not one bit. ‘Cause if we hadn’t, we wouldn’t be here with you right now,” she sniffled, wiping away a tear that had rolled down her cheek. “And I’ve already lost a sister once. I couldn’t lose you too.”

Ellie’s eyes glistened, a tear slipping down her cheek before she quickly wiped it away. She didn’t say a word. Instead, she took a slow, steady breath, turned away from them, and padded quietly toward the stairs.

Faith and Joel stayed where they were, watching her go, the warm kitchen light softening the tension that still lingered. The sound of Ellie’s footsteps faded upstairs, leaving a gentle hush in their wake.

Joel glanced at Faith, his expression unreadable but somehow less heavy.

The quiet settled around them like a fragile truce. His hand, almost instinctively, reached out toward Faith — not touching, just close. Just there. Like he needed the anchor. He realized she needed it too, when she actually stretched out her own hand to hold his own, giving it a short squeeze he immediately returned.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @kitdjarin1@christinamadsen@abtjudex@hongjoong-titties@cokoladasljesnjakom@puppi-sonnenschein@elisha-chloe@wwefan2002@hello-lisa1026

[thatwritterbeach]

So About that Alley .3

Jason Todd x fmc

DC masterlist ALL OTHER PARTS FOUND HERE

Unedited***Also I swear Tumblr is messing up my spelling on purpose cuz everytime I re-read something I know I fixed it's wrong again

Alex: short, curvy, red hair, green eyes, redheads go through pain meds way faster than normal people to the point I personally don't even take them, it's a joke, they last 30 min at best

Summary: Alex finds out her bf is red hood, after she spills some not so great secrets to the masked man while stitching him up.

Warnings: Vaginismus* angst, sexual assault, self-harm, depression, drug use by Alex, violence, cursing, NSFW, smut, thigh riding, vaginal fingering, guided masturbation?, p in v (not overly described), pain during s*x, hiding said pain, hickeys?, self-hate, insecurities, eating disorder, weight loss

A/N: I do not own dc booho

"Hey, Jay," she asked in a totally calm totally cool manner the next morning, completely numb thanks to the nice little combo she'd whipped up. Not floating or un-present but not in pain, even where the arm of the couch was digging into her side as Jason squished into her, laying fully on top of her.

"Yes, my beloved?"

"Don't make me take away your books you little dork. I was just wondering if your family knows about you...you know, not being dead?"

"Uh, yeah, why?"

"Just if I happened to run into them I wouldn't wanna be like 'oh I'm dating Jason' and they'd be all 'wtf is wrong with this chick, he's dead' you know."

"I guess. Alex," he said grabbing her hand and pulling it to his mouth," I'm gonna introduce you, I'm not ashamed of you or whatever the hell else your mind is trying to say. My family is...overwhelming for most and I didn't want to scare you off."

"I get it dude, and since I just recently placed you as Robin you would have had to hire a family, or spill you deepest secrets to me. Lucky for you, I am the most understanding woman on the planet."

"I'd argue, but you're right. I'll text Alfred, the leader of the gang, and see when we can come for dinner. Be warned though, it could be tonight, they've been trying to get me to come home for a while now."

It was in fact that night. Alex scurried around for a clean pair of jeans, then after a glance in the mirror at her too large reflection she ripped them off and tossed them to the floor. A dress? No, that one has a tear. This skirt? No, it's too short. Jean short, they're clean but who the fuck wear jeans shorts to a mansion. Business slacks, no that says trying too hard. Ah ha, a superman t-shirt, and black leggings, then top it off with one of Jason's zip up hoodies.

"Is that what you're wearing," he asked with a laugh as he came into the room. In fact the laugh became a full blown fit and he doubled over nearly to the ground clutching his stomach and wheezing. With each second she got more and more self-conscious. Of course she couldn't wear what was basically pajamas to a fancy place, what was wrong with her. With a sigh she took off her boots and slid out of the leggings and switched them for her jeans, that she hated but whatever. Searching in vain for something that wasn't a graphic tee, or a business blouse she was half way through her closet when Jason recovered enough to notice what she was doing.

"No, put it back on, it's great, doll, I wasn't laughing at you, I was laughing with you."

"I wasn't laughing," she said without emotion.

"Hey, come 'er." Much to her wiggling protest he pulled her tight against him and placed several loud kisses along her scalp.

"Everyone else will be in pj's I solemnly swear, in fact I was just about to change into my matching flannel set, someone amazing bought it for me, but I can't remember who," he said tapping his chin with mock thought.

"Really?"

"Cross my heart," he said, though his fingers were crossed behind his back.

"Ok," she conceded trying to get free. He held on for another minute before spinning her out away from himself and winking when she fell back onto the bed. Matching pj's in hand he headed to the bathroom, not for privacy but to send an urgant group chat explicity stating lounge clothes were to be worn.

See masterlist for more

[readychilledwine]

Training Tensions

A second part of Early Mornings (link in masterlist and coming soon) in a way. Showing the beginning of the mateship/courting between Cassian, our illyrian oc (who now has a name), and Nesta. But with a plot twist so I have an excuse for something that may get posted later.

Summary - Nesta can't help falling harder and harder for Irelina. They've been ignoring it for months now, but the dam has to break at some point

Warnings - fxmxf threesome inferred, oral, mentions of a trouple/poly-relationships, husband encouraging someone else to bang his wife (because Cassian is a king), mentions of impact play, wing play, oh and some actually emotionally stuff. It's NSFW but not as spicy as I've been known to post

A/N - I hadn't intended to add to Early Morning much, but when I'm in a writers block, my mind goes back to her, Nesta, and Cassian, and the emotional bond between her and Nesta. So you may occasionally see pieces of them sprinkled between other updates.

"He's just selfish!" Nesta landed another harsh punch that had Irelina smiling with pride inside despite the stinging in her hands growing. "He just thinks he knows everything," another sharp punch landed on her pad. "And for being able to get into people's heads, he understands nothing." 

The final blow caught her off guard. Nesta pulled a move the young female watched her use while she was sparring with Cassian. A faked right into a left into the stomach. Nesta gasped as she doubled over. Eyes wide in shock as she began to cough. 

"I'm so sorry!" Nesta was at her side, a hand gently touching her back. "I-"

"Don't apologize," she wheezed out. She placed her hands on her knees, taking deep breaths through her nose as Cassian ran over.

"What happened?" Nesta backed away, only for Irelina to reach for her hand and hold her there. Electricity shooting through her at the contact.

"She's a visual learner," is all she said. "She took a fake shot on me and it worked because we had hardly even discussed that yet. I'm so proud of you, Ness."

Nesta's face slightly flushed with the praise before she buried it away. 

-

Training the next day involved her and Nesta in meditation. Focusing on their inner self. "I can feel how unsettled you are. Talk to me." It was a gentle invitation. One Nesta took immediately.

"I just do not understand how you all sat there and did not tell Feyre she would die."

Nesta watched her eyes open. "There was not a single day that went by since I found out that I did not want to tell her. Trust me." Irelina paused, looking towards where Cassian and Azriel were sparring. "It just was not my place. I do agree it was not handled properly, though."

Nesta's mind froze, unprepared to have her feelings validated. "You don't think I'm wrong?"

She shook her head at Nesta, eyes closed again. "I think Rhysand, my dearest brother, should have included his mate and wife in decision making regarding their babe and her body. I feel HE should have told her right away and included her in the search to find solutions."

She opened her eyes, finally looking at Nesta with that gaze that reminded the younger female of molten honey. "I do not think you told her from a place of genuine concern and love, though. That is the only thing I do not believe was handled correctly on your end."

Nesta sook her head. "I do love her, it was concern."

"It is not your love I question, Ness. It's your intention. In your heart, yes, you meant well. In your subconscious, no." Nesta studied the illyrian female, her beautiful face and scarred wings. "I think you are grieving so deeply, Nesta, your heart has begun to be poisoned. You are blinded by your rage and hurt. I understand that heartache." 

"We failed you," she continued. "We failed you, and Elain, multiple times. We failed you when you were forced into that Cauldron, we failed you when you were recovering, we failed you when your father died, and we failed you after the war."

Nesta felt her heart swelling, her eyes beginning to water. She had longed to hear those exact words for nights now.

"I failed you," Irelina said softly. "I failed you when I allowed you to go down the same pathway I did of numbing yourself through booze and sex. I failed you when I wasn't there every day and night holding you. I failed you, and I will never be able to make up for it."

She held her hand to Nesta, then gently laced their fingers together. "Everything you are feeling, little dove, every piece of anger, of longing, of sadness, of self doubt, of absolute burning sheer rage, you are valid in those feelings. You are allowed to feel those feelings." She brought Nesta's hand to her lips, kissing the top of it gently, "it's how we move forward in how you process those feelings, how you let them free, that makes the difference in your soul's peace or turmoil."

-

Nesta was awake before her. Before Azriel and Cassian. Eyes locked in the fire burning in the hearth. Her dreams were haunted by Irelina, but not the way her nightmares had plagued her. 

They were haunted by gentle touches, soft whispered words of love, support, and encouragement. 

They were haunted by memories of the two of them, when Rhys would allow her off her leash and the two of them would spend time reading, finger tips running up and down her arm as Irelina jotted down notes for reports or flipped her horror novel behind her. 

Nesta jumped when soft hands found her waist, a kiss placed on her temple. "Why are you up so early, dove?" She shivered at the sound of her voice laced in sleep. "Want breakfast or coffee? I can steal some tea from Azriel too?"

Nesta's mind flashed to the last time they had breakfast alone, to when Irelina served her coffee and the fluffiest pancakes she had ever had. Nesta had hardly been able to control herself around Irelina and Cassian for weeks after that, but her  rage towards Cassian helped. Her jealousy of hearing him make his wife a begging mess helped. 

"I was wondering if we could not train today?" Nesta asked quietly. "Just take a day to relax, you and me?"

"I'd have to ask Azriel," she said. "But I will work something out with him. Did you want breakfast?"

-

Azriel had not let Nesta out of training. Following his orders to a t, much to both of the females disappointment.

Nesta and Irelina were sparring basic hand to hand and currently locked together. It didn't take her but a spare second to take Nesta to the ground, straddling her hips and pinning her hands above her head. 

Nesta's chest was heaving, her eyes wide and mouth parted slightly.  Irelina's brows scrunched together at the same time Cassian gripped his chest over his heart and Azriel's shoulder. 

She was off Nesta in an instant, moving through the House of Wind as Nesta ran after her. 

She locked herself into the bathroom of her and Cassian's room, sinking against the wall. Nesta jiggled the door handle forehead against the cool wood, "Irelina, let me in." She knocked softly. "Talk to me, please. I know you're scared. I was scared when I felt it too, but you've made me feel so safe, please."

She heard Cassian's footsteps. "Lark? Baby, what's wrong?" Irelin didn't answer. Sitting with her head against the wall, a new silver thread gleaming next to a golden one. She tugged them both before closing the bond down. 

Cassian knew the message, placing a hand around Nesta's shoulders as he saw that pretty silver string too. "Give her a little bit, dove. She's shocked."

"You knew?" Cassian nodded at her question.

"Of course, dove. I knew the second I laid eyes on you in that manor you were mine, ours." Lark and dove, Nesta noted immediately. His little birds. The thought spread warmth through her body. The thought of being his. Of being Irelina's. Of being theirs.

-

Irelina skipped dinner, punching her feelings into one of the spare bags into the early hours of night. 

Nesta could feel her confusion, her excitement, her pain radiating through her hands. 

Cassian and Azriel had left for the evening claiming there was an emergency in Windhaven, and telling Nesta to behave herself while they were gone. Nesta closed her book, walking to the training grounds and sitting to watch Irelina.

She was covered in sweat, muscles and breasts shining in the light of the full moon. She struck the punching bag quick, precise, and repeatedly. She was wearing nothing more than a tight pair of leggings and a bra built for training. Her dark hair was messily braided back with a few pieces framing her high cheekbones. 

Nesta felt her eyes trapped on the muscles flexing in her thighs and arms.  Irelina paused, her head turning to Nesta. She shook whatever thoughts were running through her mind off and went back to beating the punching bag. 

The loud flapping of wings and a soft thud next to Nesta ripped her from the inappropriate place her mind was going. 

"She likes to bathe after doing this," it was an emotionless purr that made Nesta growl. "She likes lilac oils and red wine. Plenty of bubbles."

Nesta glared towards Rhysand. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because Cassian asked me to ensure you took care of her tonight since he won't be here to do it himself. It is your duty, after all, as her mate." Rhysand took off again, flying back to the home he and Feyre were staying in. 

Her mate. The words replayed over and over again like a crescendo in a symphony. Her mate.

-

Nesta prepared a bath for her, pouring the scented oil and wine for both of them, and waited. Irelia froze at the door, already wrapped in a towel. 

Nesta took a step back from the bath, sitting in the vanity chair. "I thought you needed something to help you relax. You don't seem okay lately."

She nodded. "Thank you." She moved toward the tub, stepping shamelessly out of the towel and into the warm water. Nesta was reading her romance novel while Irelina bathed. Her eyes locked on the sultry scene being painted for her between the two female love interests. Her thighs began to squeeze together occasionally, begging for friction. 

Her eyes began to flick to the naked illyrian female. Her breasts were peeking above the water, bubbles hiding the toned body and curves below. 

Nesta was desperate to touch her. To kiss her. To have her. "Your back looks sore," she stated. "Do you want me to come rub it?" 

The scent in the air changed immediately. The lilac oil mixing with something slightly musky. "If you'd like to?"

Nesta swallowed that bit of fear in her bones, moving to the tub behind her and sitting with her legs in the warm water.

The steam in the room was thick as if it was adding to the tension between the two females. Nesta moved her wet dark hair over one shoulder and began rubbing her shoulders.  A soft moan had Nesta almost pausing before moving lower. "Cassian needs to give you a massage," Nesta joked.

"He tries," she laughed out. "He really does. But he gets distracted."

"I can see how." The words came out before Nesta could stop them. They hung in the air like magic. Lingering in their effect on both of them. Irelina turned between Nesta's legs, wet hands trailing her bare right calf. 

"You can't say things like that, Nesta. Our self control with you is already low." She lifted Nesta's long left leg over her shoulder and trailed a few testing kisses up her calf. "There's so many things I long to do to you, Nesta."

The oldest Archeron sister's face had flushed. She pulled her dress up further exposing her legs, then her stomach, then her breasts until it was off and they were both laid bare to each other. "Show me," Nesta whispered. "Show me what you want to do to me."

So Irelina did.

-

Cassian could smell sex in his room the second the door opened. He knew one scent immediately. Pomegranate and currants, his wife. The other a vanilla spicy musk with touches of amber. 

A familiar moan had him hard instantly as he moved mindlessly to the bathroom door. 

The sight behind that door was heaven. Nesta had his mate laid out on the tile bathroom floor, her back arched as her hands tangled in Nesta's freed long hair. 

Nesta had her head between his mate's thighs, tongue and mouth working her timidly but encouraged by each hair pull and breathy gasp. "Like that, Ness, please, fuck." 

Cassian moved the chair Nesta had previously been in, drinking the wine that was opened straight from the bottle. Nesta looked up, seeing him and pausing, ripping a pleading whine to leave his wife's throat. 

"Don't stop on my account," his voice was deep, laced with arousal as he watched Nesta. "Keep going, Ness. Unless you need me to show you how to make that pretty bird sing?"

Nesta's eyes grew dark at the offer. At the thought of learning how to draw the same noises from Irelina the way Cassian did. He smirked, moving to Nesta. He took one of his wife's beautiful legs, placing it over Nesta's shoulder, similar to how she had pulled Nesta apart earlier. "Do to her exactly what you want done to you, Ness." 

So she did, sucking her clit into her mouth and licking that bundle of nerves. 

"Fuck. Please?" Moans turned into whimpers as Irelina pulled Nesta's face further into her heat.

Cassian ran a long finger down Nesta's spine, feeling every bump and ridge. Memorizing every building muscle. Nesta hummed under his touch, sending vibration through his wife causing another crying moan. "Is this okay, Nesta?" She whined in response, arching up for Cassian. "What a beautiful little thing you are, sweetheart. We've wanted you for so long."

"So long," his mate moaned and confirmed. 

-

Nesta woke up between two warm bodies, two sets of wings caging her in like weighted blankets of protection. She turned to her side and traced Irelia's Face and played with her lashes causing the other female to wrinkle her nose and pull her closer. "Did we hurt you?" Nesta shook her head at the sleepy tone from the other female. "This doesn't have to change anything between us, Ness. We can still just cuddle, read, and be friends."

Nesta swallowed thickly. "And if I want more? If I'm ready for more?"

"Then we're more," she whispered. "But he is part of the deal, so you two will need to work on your…. Current relationship." 

"I don't know how."

She ran a hand through Nesta's hair. "Let him train you with me. Stop pushing him away. Talk to him. Cassian can be rough, but once those walls you two seem to fortify around each other melt and bend, you're both these soft creatures needing love and validation. Gentle understanding."

She pulled Nesta to her, kissing her lips softly. Nesta rolled them over carefully, a hand going to Irelia's Delicate wing, making her arch her back. 

"Oh?" Nesta rose a brow. "I thought Feyre was kidding." 

Irelia shook her head quickly. "Pretty serious. Watch." She watched as Irelina danced long limber fingers on the ridge of Cassian's wing. "Get on top of him. Take what's yours, dove. I know you want him back inside of you." She tugged that string, making Nesta gasp. "Shall we turn him to putty?"

Cassian woke up to Nesta on his already hard cock, riding as she kissing Irelina, whose pretty dripping cunt was just in reach of his happily awaiting tongue.

-

Azriel sat with his hands folded at the table as the three of them emerged one by one. The scent of it was overwhelming. The ridiculously pungent bond. The heavy scent of sex.

He rose a brow at Irelina, knowing the female would tell him everything shamelessly to draw jealousy out of him.. "Anything happen while we were gone? Anything I as Nesta's babysitter need to know about."

She rolled her eyes at him, forcing Nesta into her normal seat next to Cassian and taking the spot next to Azriel. 

"You can join us next time if it makes you feel better, Spymaster." Cassian and Nesta's eyes both lit up. "Maybe I'll even let you beat me with a cane or hang me from the ceiling."

Nesta noticed how that immediately got Azriel's attention. His scarred hand flying to Irelina's neck. "You know better than to tease me, little bat." Azriel smirked at the shock on Nesta's face. "Welcome to the throuple, Ness. Excuse me while I go remind this pretty little thing who is actually in charge between the 3 of us." He took Irelina by her neck back up the stairs, whispering in her ear as he moved with her.

Cassian leaned back with a smirk. "Welcome, dove. Might want to start mentally preparing for that one."

[lovely-writes-alot]

Welcome, M

It was pouring with rain tonight. Anyone who had the misfortune of being outside got absolutely drenched.

Now, no one wanted to be outside in that, right?

"Are you sure you heard something?!" Anastasia yelled over the rain.

"Yes! I heard a scream clear as day!" Finley responded, shining her flashlight down one of the hills.

They were both already soaked to the bone, and chances were high they were both getting sick after this.

Anastasia sighed. She did believe her, it's more that they were going to be out here for hours, in the pouring rain, praying they were doing this all to find a dead body.

"Alright. Let's start searching."

And searching they did. For a while.

They had both started developing a cough.

Anastasia couldn't feel her feet anymore and felt ready to throw herself down this damn hill.

There were several things she didn't like about this. The rain, the cold, the fact she could hear something Darth Vader breathing.

"Please tell me I'm not losing it and you hear that too?"

"Yep." Finley wheezed. "I hear it."

"Fin..." She said softly.

"I know someone's out here, Annie. We can't just leave them."

"I can literally hear you're getting sick-"

There was a scream from down the hill.

They both looked at each other for a second before sprinting down the hill.

Well, they tried to run down, but ended up sliding on the mud.

"Shit shit shit shit shi-" Finley started rolling down the hill.

Anastasia, quite stupidly, grabbing onto tree to stop sliding, falling face first and also tumbling down the hill. "ow fuck ouch ow ow shit-"

They both came to a stop, hearing growling not far from them.

fuckkkkkk

Anastasia stood up, covered in mud.

Finley rolled over onto her back.

Anastasia looked down at her, silently asking 'you good?'

She nodded, standing up.

There was more growling.

They ran towards it.

They found a monster standing over some girl.

"Is she dead?" Finley whispered.

"I sure hope not..."

The monster, whatever it was, approached the girl, about to make her it's dinner.

"Shit-" Finley ran over.

"FINLEY!" She screamed out.

"OI DIPSHIT!" Finley throw some mud at the monster, like her screaming didn't catch it's attention already.

Why'd I befriend an self surficial idiot?

"YOO WHOO! YOUR DINNER'S HERE!" She started running away

WHY'D I BEFRIEND A SELF SURFICIAL IDIOT????

She went to ran after them.

"ANNIE! OTHER PERSON!"

"BUT-"

"TRUST ME, I HAVE A PLAN." She disappeared from her sight, and so did the monster.

Anastasia wanted to go after her, but she went over to the other girl.

She was covered in cuts and scars. You'd think she'd been mauled by the monster but they weren't opened.

"Don't be dead don't be dead Finley better not die over a dead body-"

"I can hear you?" The girl groaned, holding her head.

Anastasia felt like a deer in headlights. "Uh... Good, you're not dead."

"Jeez, you have Jade's optimism..."

"Who's?" Anastasia asked.

"No one's." The girl said up. "What was that thing?"

"A monster. They-"

"- Attack demigods?"

"... Yeah. I'm guessing you've been debriefed then."

She nodded sadly.

Right, talk about anything but that

"Uh, What's your name?"

"l̸̛̪͉̈͛̿̀͠j̸͉̲̠͔͈̤̃ä̸͉̩̠́ĭ̶̘̥͍̝̈́̐́̅͠ï̶̝̺̇e̴͙͓̪̣̯̰͐͆̚̚͝͝u̷̻͇͗́̈́͝͝ọ̵̻̗̫̲̀̕͜h̴̗̲̱̻͎̭̔̓́̄̕ḣ̸̨́̋̕" Whatever came out her mouth was almost distorted.

"Pardon?"

"l̸̛̪͉̈͛̿̀͠j̸͉̲̠͔͈̤̃ä̸͉̩̠́ĭ̶̘̥͍̝̈́̐́̅͠ï̶̝̺̇e̴͙͓̪̣̯̰͐͆̚̚͝͝u̷̻͇͗́̈́͝͝ọ̵̻̗̫̲̀̕͜h̴̗̲̱̻͎̭̔̓́̄̕ḣ̸̨́̋̕"

"Uh..."

Finley reappeared, even more muddy then before. "Oh, good she's not dead!" She smiled. "I'm Finley."

"I'm l̸̛̪͉̈͛̿̀͠j̸͉̲̠͔͈̤̃ä̸͉̩̠́ĭ̶̘̥͍̝̈́̐́̅͠ï̶̝̺̇e̴͙͓̪̣̯̰͐͆̚̚͝͝u̷̻͇͗́̈́͝͝ọ̵̻̗̫̲̀̕͜h̴̗̲̱̻͎̭̔̓́̄̕ḣ̸̨́̋̕"

"Pardon?"

She groaned. "Why can't anyone hear my name?"

Anastasia and Finley glanced at each other for a second before looking back at her. Anastasia's eyes caught her necklace.

"How about we go with M?"

Get ready, lads and ladies, we have a new oc and they need a whole lot of therapy

Intro post is about to set a world record at this point lol

@arisdaughter @childofthewargod @dianedantedominic @theorphicforest

@that-girl-cupid @ithacas-prince @daonedaonlyskh @hispanic-child-of-hermes @aria-pane @unhinged-waterlilly

@chaos-pers0nified @ariathemortal @i-was-never-sane @gaygirldoodles @smileyalater

@if-i-could-cry-i-wouldnt @startswithahell

If you want to be added, removed or if I forgot to tag you, let me know :)

[allastoredeer]

~Lucifer blanches. He looks around, as if trying to find a sense of Alastor’s words somewhere in the trash-heap he calls a room, before rounding back to him, lips pulling up in disgust. “Are you asking me out?”

“Ahaha!” Alastor laughs, slapping him so hard on the back it nearly takes Lucifer off his feet. “Oh, Heavens no. I’m just proposing we let Hell continue thinking that you and I are,” he waves his hand, searching for the word, “in cahoots. In that way.”~

This is golden comedy right here. Honestly every time I read ur fic I always start wheezing so hard I can’t breathe, u are an amazing writer, hope u know that. When I saw ur last update on the ‘damage control’ chapter i was so excited i devoured it so fast help

Alastor saying he wants to be in ‘cahoots’ with Lucifer it’s so funny to me cause no one use that term anymore, and Lucifer is just downright dumbfounded that they are even having the conversation. I can imagine the shadow rolling his eyes at them, we need more sassy shadow moments, he is so underrated. 😭😭

I love that Lucifer is trying to respect Al boundaries, especially after the ‘incident’ , and doesn’t pry to much on his scars, but now I am curious about what did Al meant. Does he not remember who did that to him? 🥺

Also I am curious about what they gonna tell to the others about their new found relationship. I don’t think Lucifer would want to lie to Charlie, but I also think that it would be too risky to make the whole crew knew they are acting, someone might slip. And it’s not like Al is gonna make it easy for Lucy anyway. If they want to be credible, less ppl knowing it’s best course of action for me.

Last thing~ I really wanted to thank you, cause ur fic really brings me a lot of joy since I recently only been able to find happiness in small things like these , and I I can’t wait to read more🌈

Hehehe, Alastor purposefully refusing to go into depth about their "sexual relationship," and even side-stepping outright calling it a relationship, is what's going to make it all more entertaining when he actually has to commit to the bit. Cuz you see, they're not fucking. They're "in cahoots."

It's different.

(I love Alastor's Shadow being sassy. If it's attached to Alastor, it has to be. I take no critiques.)

😈 Alastor and his scars is something I'm very excited to get into it. I've been thinking about them for a while, and while it may take a bit to actually get the answer, I'm very eager to get there when we do.

The way I see it, Alastor doesn't want to tell the others (as they already know their not actually dating--as he made VERY clear last time), but Lucifer isn't going to be okay with lying to Charlie. Out of the group, Alastor knows he can trust Husk and Niffty to keep it a secret. Maybe Angel Dust too. But he's most worried about Charlie and Vaggie.

Vaggie isn't a good liar, and Charlie's such an open, bright, heart-on-her-sleeves person, he doesn't trust her to keep up the ruse without letting something slip--most likely by accident.

But Lucifer is stubborn. He doesn't want to lie to Charlie, and if he tells Charlie, Charlie is going to tell Vaggie. If Vaggie knows, well, we already know she has a hard time lying on the spot, so if the others see Alastor and Lucifer suddenly "in cahoots," and ask about it, she's not going to be able to come up with a plausible excuse on the fly.

This is all to say, the next installment is going to be full of silly Hazbin Crew hijinks, where Alastor is forcefully enrolled into Chaggies Dating 101 Crash Course, and he is definitely not setting the grading curve. (And maybe we'll even get a bit of HuskerDust thrown in there, who knows. Certainly not me).

And it warms me so much to know that my fic can bring you joy in a time that such things are scarce 🥺 I can't wait to share more of the story with you!

[marchsfreakshow]

Stranger, Lover. (Dandy Mott Imagine)

Imagine being a person on the streets, and finding yourself watching a Freakshow through the peek's of the tent.....

I was tired from walkin'. There were lights ahead of me, so I kept going, kept pushing despite my legs wanting to give out right now. I ran. I ran and ran.

Elsa's Cabinet Of Curiosities, the sign said. I knew I couldn't pay for a ticket, so I sneaked. I snuck around until I peeked my head through a hole, and watched. A two headed lady. The Tattler Twins the police searched for, a few weeks back. Dwarves, Lobster Boy, Amazon Eve. I was happy to be sitting, and watching in the corner.

A tap on my shoulder made me stand up immediately. "What are you doing?"

"oh, uh. Nothing sir. I'm sorry sir...you see."

"calm down." His voice was sharp and quick. I could only guess where he was. "...come with me."

"I can't see you.." I replied sheepishly, but he grabbed my hand and took me around the back, where we found a working carousel. No one was on it. In the light I saw his face. A handsome man. "A carousel? Why here?"

"I think, you need some fun. None of the freaks are interesting. They cast me out."

"Cast you out? Why?" I asked, as he helped me onto a horse. The strange man just joined me on the back of the horse, holding onto me. I guess because there was no where else to hold.

"Because they don't think I'm one of them." Music sung in the air quietly. It was an amazing feeling, riding a carousel.

"Oh, why I'm sure you are though." I giggled. While i think he smiled, the carousel came to a stop almost immediately. The man got off and helped me off after. Lobster boy was infront of me. Two handsome men, I felt fuzzy. Embarrassment came over me, I wanted to run. Running away from my problems was my solution for everything. Flight over fight everytime.

"Lady! Don't go anywhere. Why are you here? With Dandy of all people." His accent was smooth. It stopped me from running, and I turned back around on my heel.

"I...uh, couldn't afford a ticket. Ticket lady wasn't there, so, I snuck in and..watched."

So, the man who rode the carousel with me was called Dandy. I didn't want to look away from his face, he didn't look away from mine. We exchanged smiles, before dandy carried on answering. "I personally, was walking around and happened to see this young woman here. I find you freaks boring. I wanted to show her a better time."

"Scram!! Right fucking now! Dandy you dont belong here, you know that." Lobster Boy continued.

"I hate you!!" Dandy screamed. He took my hand and we ran. Again. Back to running. The pain in my legs became obvious again. Darkness over took me, leaves crunched underneath us. The Freakshow disappeared behind us.

"please! Stop! I feel weak..." I wheezed, sinking to a stop and onto my knees. Everything hurt. I needed water, but I doubted I was gonna find any in the woods this dark.

"Are you okay? Are you hurt pretty lady?" Dandy asked. Pretty lady? That's a compliment.

"No...just..tired. My legs feel like jelly. I'm shaking. I've done nothing but walk and run for the past 3 to 4 hours. I think."

"Oh. Well, build us a tree fort. We can sleep in there."

I raised an eyebrow he couldn't see at him. "It's fine. Do it."

So I built in the dark, leaves, twigs, branches, anything and everything was used. As soon as I was done, I grabbed Dandy's hand and pulled him into the cozy shelter. He was practically ontop of me. "Are you okay to sleep like this?" I asked. He made a face in response.

"No, but It'll have to do."

We slept. He slept ontop of me, almost making me lose my ability to breath. But it was nice. Human comfort and company. Especially with a handsome man like the one on top of me.

Haii, I literally just had a dream about this, so I wrote it cause it was gold lol. It's not proof read, and it's a quick write. I hope you enjoyed!!

@babygorewhore @slvt4jamesmarch @taintandviolent @tatelangdonsweater hi tag list! Enjoy this imagine 💜

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

❄️❄️❄️❄️ (I'm intrigued)

📖📖📖📖📖 (still so excited for librarian buck)

🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞🪞(this sounds awesome and I'm looking forward to seeing what you do with this plot because I can see it going so many ways)

🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨

🔼🔼🔼🔼🔼

🧟🧟🧟🧟🧟

⚡⚡⚡⚡⚡

(the last few Make Me Writes I've been holding back on how many but not how much I ask for so this week I have decided to do the inverse lol)

Wooo I love this! Let's go!

---

12 for ❄️:

---

There’s nothing to say, anyway. Because the more Eddie thinks about it, the more confident he is that it won't actually work. Getting him to open up in talk therapy was hard enough to begin with. Adding a group of strangers to the mix? Not gonna be as simple as Frank makes it sound.

He’s gonna do it. He’s not gonna quit. He wants to be better. 

He’s just not sure this is how to get there. 

A lobotomy? Maybe? That’s the next step. 

---

15 for 📖:

---

That lasts less than a month. Really, Buck finds something not quite right with everybody. 

“That’s not like you,” Maddie observes when he complains about it. 

“It’s not?” Buck asks. 

She nods. “Usually you give people more chances than they deserve.” 

“Do I?” Buck asks. But he knows she’s probably right. He tried so hard with Abby. He’d held onto Taylor even after he realized they weren’t well-suited. Even that firefighter guy… He knew he was condescending after half an hour of one date. And yet he still agreed to the second.

---

30 for 🪞:

---

If there’s any chance she’s not in the laundry room, he hopes she hears them. 

The laundry room is smoky and hard to see inside of when they burst through the doors. Eddie runs right to a line of three dryers and opens all the doors.

“DOVE?” Buck shouts. 

“She’s not in the dryers!” Eddie announces, moving towards the washing machines. Those would be harder to climb in, Buck thinks. It doesn’t seem likely. 

Buck scans the room quickly. There are shelves with laundry detergent, stain remover, dryer sheets, and other necessities. In the corner, there’s a sink. Beside it, a big laundry cart has been pushed against a table. Buck strides over to it and looks inside. At the bottom, under a heap of towels, is a quivering little girl, clutching what looks like a stuffed crocodile. 

“Found her!” Buck tells Eddie. 

Eddie quits his search and informs command over the radio. 

Buck looks at the little girl, and finds her glancing back up at him. Her brown hair is sticking to her sweaty forehead. Her stormy gray-blue eyes are heavy with exhaustion and discomfort. But he can still see the fear in them. She’s wheezing when she breathes.

“You must be Dove,” he says to her.

She gives a little nod. 

“My name is Buck,” he tells her. “I’m a firefighter. I’d like to get you out of here, okay?”

---

15 for 🚨:

---

Like someone reaches forward from the past to knock willpower and sense into him. 

Do you remember what you said?

Christopher’s voice, small but certain. 

What did I say?

You told me I was one of the most important people in the whole world. So you had to keep me safe.

That’s true. That’s still true.

So, don’t be too sad, Buck.

Buck snaps out of his wallowing. He can’t lay down and die. He can’t give up. Even if it means dragging his body back into the warzone, he’s pulling Eddie out of it. And this time, he’s not going to be too late.

Buck takes a deep breath and crawls under the fire engine.

---

15 for 🔼:

---

What if they all secretly despise her for what she’s done to Eddie? To Christopher?

She sticks with Maddie, for this reason. Even though she knows it’s probably just all in her head. Maddie seems to understand and expect the anxiety, and has no problem with it. She’s a good friend. Shannon is lucky. 

When it happens, they’re about the baby. About Jane. She’s officially Jane now. Well, not officially, actually. Birth certificates are the official part. But as far as she and Eddie are concerned, it’s as good as official. Jane Diaz. They’re still just missing a middle name. 

---

15 for 🧟:

---

“Is that?” Chim asks, sniffing.

“Mhm,” Athena confirms, pursing her lips. “Smells like it.”

“It didn’t smell like marijuana last time we were here,” Bobby says. “That’s new.”

Hen looks around the storefront. She walks behind the counter, scanning the shelves. Right in front of where the till used to be, she sees it. An extinguished, crumbling joint. From the looks of the rolling paper and the ashes, it’s not that old.  

“Here,” Hen says, lifting the evidence gingerly. “Someone was in here.”

“And they couldn’t even pick up after themselves,” Chim sighs. “No manners in a zombie apocalypse, I’m telling you.”

---

15 for ⚡:

---

She replies with a thumbs up, a heart, and wine glass with a question mark.

“Fuck,” Eddie sighs. “We forgot to buy Adriana wine.” 

Buck’s eyes flutter open. “Hmm?”

“We didn’t buy Adriana wine.”

Buck waves it off sleepily. “We’ll give her a really big gift card. 

Eddie laughs. “She will remember this.” 

“One day, when she and Ravi get married,” Buck yawns.

“Uh, hey, let’s not rush that,” Eddie interjects. 

“When she and Ravi get married, we will do something big to help. Don’t even worry.”

[princeofopenness]

“ALFONSE? ALFONSE!” Sharena sprints through the now-crowded ruined halls, stumbling and pushing her way through what remains of the happy academy in search of the familiar blue amongst the sea of… well, blue. A lot of people in this world have blue hair, actually. Huh.

Yet amongst it all, there’s only one with that specific shade of blue — the one that fades into a blonde matching her own. She can’t help the tears that finally break through when she finally spots it. 

“ALFONSE!!” 

She’s upon him in moments, nearly knocking him down with the force of her crushing embrace as she wraps her arms around her brother tightly, as though afraid to lose him. He’s okay. Relatively unharmed. Alive. She couldn’t describe how much of a relief it is if someone tried to force it out of her.

She pulls back after a moment, eyes wide with worry and wet with still flowing tears as she looks up at him. “Are you okay?? You’re okay, right? The gateway— a-and the fire— I came as soon as I saw, I—“ Sharena chokes on her own words, and she gives up on trying to force her emotions down. It’s so much harder to fight back sobs while trying to speak. No one ever really tells you that. 

Alfonse's head whipped around wildly as soon as the voice reached his ears. He knew that voice-- he would recognize it anywhere, in any scenario, in any lifetime. He hadn't anticipated hearing it now, nor had he expected to hear her sound so frantic, but he knew that voice immediately all the same.

"Sharena?" Alfonse called, azure eyes searching the crowd eagerly. Her shorter stature certainly made her harder to spot in a crowd than Alfonse himself. He wasn't the tallest person around, but he was above average-- he could stand out among the throng of people a bit more easily. Then again, it sounded like she was getting closer... or just yelling louder. Either one was equally possible, really.

Thankfully, it was the former. Alfonse wouldn't have long to wait before Sharena found her way to him. Despite the difference in size between them, the princess carried with her nearly enough force to bowl Alfonse clean over. It was only because he'd had ample time to prepare himself that he managed to remain standing, though she did knock the wind out of him. After a moment of gasping for air, a reassuring hand came to rest gingerly atop her back, accompanied by a nervous laugh (well, more of a wheeze, really).

"C-calm down, Sharena," Alfonse assured her, coughing a bit as he tried to regain his breath. "I promise you, I was in no danger. I could have left at any time if I needed to. I should have sent word back home, I'm sorry."

He couldn't have left, though. His conscience simply wouldn't have allowed that of him.

[sidhewrites]

Chapter 8! Kind of! Flailing in the general direction of a narrative and excessive use of brackets to move the action along!

Project Info

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The second Josie sees Renfield, she cries out in relief and pulls him close to her chest, peppering his fat head with kisses. "Thank you, Kaz. [I was so worried]." Now that she's got her cat back, Josie can focus on other concerns. Her gaze drifts over to the circle of light where a valiant effort to get a modicum of work done after all the chaos.

"Josie...?" I warn, but there's not much heart behind it. After nearly losing Renfield, it's hard not to want to give her something nice. Maybe she could at least say hello. I look over my shoulder and sigh. "Be cool. Okay?"

"So cool. I'm very cool."

"I believe you." I don't believe her.

"Do you...?"

She pauses, looking down at Renfield in her arms. He's happy as can be, face buried in the crook of her elbow. I know Josie wants to take him to the vet to get looked at, and she'd be right to, but the risk of missing out on meeting the archivists. It's such a small thing, but I can still see it weighing on her.

I don't want to make her make a hard decision, not after tonight. "Listen, come by tomorrow. They're probably going to be pissed at me in the daylight and want to talk to Mr. Ngo about things. Might as well have you stop by too. Yeah?"

She hesitates before nodding, and despite her exhaustion, there's a distinct glimmer in her eye. "Sounds good."

"Let me know what the vet says?"

"Will do." Josie looks down at Renfield and sighs. "Thank you, Kaz."

"Sure thing. I'm glad we found him."

Josie heads off, and I turn back to the team, plastering my best customer service smile on my face, and get ready to grovel once more.

#

[Kaz checks in with josie in the mormning, renfield is fine and seems healthier than he was in his last visit which is wild. But he's behaving oddly, hiding under tables, and refusing to be pet. So she's gonna keep an eye on him and keep in touch with the vet.

She also talks with the haunted archivists, gets permission to use the video with the cat in it, etc. she gets a selfie with them and ts delightful.]

Josie looks like she barely slept, but the fear and tension is mostly gone from her shoulders.

"Good news, then?" I ask, and she makes a face. I try again: "Bad...news?"

"Weird news."

"Tell me."

Josie pulled out her phone in search of the after-visit summary. "The vet says he's in perfect health."

"Well, that's good, isn't it?"

"As in, perfect health. No bladder infections, no kitty arthritis. Nothing. Even his breathing seem to be doing better."

"Definitely weird news, then." Renfield was a smush - faced cat. He'd been examined back when Josie first took him in the day she found him in the trash, and the vet said he'd likely suffer some issues in his old age. Sure enough, he'd slowly started to huff and sneeze and wheeze a bit as the years went by, though it was a mix of issues that lead to him being less active and more determined to fall asleep in your lap and drool on your pant leg.

"So..."

"I don't know. I scheduled a follow up at the end of the week with his usual vet, and we'll see. But here, look. See? He's totally fine." She flipped the phone around to show me a video of Renfield noisily chowing down on his breakfast.

"Aww, look at him." I cooed. "A little scrungus man."

"Be nice," Josie whined, even as she moved on to the next video of him scratching at his cat tree.

"An old scrunkly bungus."

"No, he's a sweet baby!"

I fully intended to continue insulting her stinky baby boy but the front door swung open again. "Hang on just a second," I said to Josie, then leaned back in the chair to call out the office door, "I'll be with you in a second!"

A familiar voice answered, "No need."

Ah. The Archivists were back. I felt my whole body cringe, hoping against hope they hadn't reported last night's chaos to Mr. Ngo. A quick glance to Josie told me that she matched my dread with her own levels of excitement. "Be cool," I hissed.

"So cool." She nodded aggressively.

Neither of us were capable of being cool. I was fully prepared for another round of groveling and apologizing until Lourdes poked her head in the door with the biggest smile on her face.

"Morning!" She chirped, and waltzed in, followed by Mick and Maddie. I would have questioned their energy levels after last night were they not all sporting cups of coffee from a local cafe. I had similarly loaded up on caffeine before work and had a backup cup ready to go under the office's coffee machine.

"Morning...?"

"Sup." Josie crossed her arms and leaned against the desk, which would have been perfectly casually if she also wasn't visibly restraining herself from fangirling over both Archivists and their manager standing less than five feet away. She does not miss the dubious glance I shoot her way, but manages to say nothing.

"So the three of us were talking last night," Maddie begins, glancing down at notes on her phone.

"Look, I'm sorry. I swear that one wasn't planned. Josie's cat never runs like that, and he--"

"We'd like to use it in the video."

"What?"

Maddie gives me a look that seems to say keep up, we're talking business here! "It's great content. The team's in the middle of a successful [seance? what's the word] and in comes a cat. I think the audience would be disappointed if we don't do a little Q&A with him, too. You know, just as a little bonus."

I glanced to the side. Josie's practically steaming with the effort of keeping her calm. Frankly, I'm more than a little impressed. "I mean, you'd have to ask his owner, right?"

"Of course, yeah," Maddie says, and the team nods in agreement.

"No, I mean... the owner...?" I gesture to Josie.

She waves.

"Oh -- oh, hey, cool! Hi, I'm Maddie." She reached out to shake Josie's hand, and gestured to the other two. "I don't know if you know us...? This --"

"Mick and Lourdes, Haunted Archivists. I know you guys. Um -- that is, I've seen your show, and --"

I kick Josie lightly, and she clears her throat, getting a hold of herself.

"Yep, yeah. So cool. Um, yeah, that was my cat Renfield that you... want to use in the video, apparently?"

[They greet Josie and talk and of course she's excited.]

She talks about some of the local legends, and points them in the direction of the librarian

Tag list:

@adaughterofathena

@ambreeskyewriting

@carnelianflames

@feather-dancer

@halfbloodlycan

@nadunacreates

@serenanymph

@vigilantdesert

[reddogf13]

Outlast 2: Deliverance CH 10

Also on A03

Status: Incomplete

Rated: M - Dead Dove Do Not Eat This takes place in the Outlast 2 universe after all.

Previous chap: CH: 9 Uhtceare

Next chap: CH: 11 Dysania

________________

~Ch: 10 Sleight~

Blake rushed with James to the barn. Record book in hand to chart down the damage done to their supplies. “How much was taken?” He wheezed along the way.

“Five rations worth.”

“That's it?” Compared to what he feared, the whole barn emptied, five wasn't bad. “That's not much.”

James gave a snappy tone in mistaking Blake's for lacking concern. “No, but it will be if it keeps happening.”

“Oh, no, I know it will be. But why not more? Only five rations worth? Why not make off with at least a quarter of the barn?”

“Couldn't carry that much? Afraid they'd get caught takin' too long? Who knows with heretics.”

“They're not heretics, they're just people trying to survive.”

“Thieves then. Who need to be dealt with. Stealing food is a hangin' offense.” Opening the doors for Blake to inspect inside. Pointing out the various things missing. “Jerky, pickled vegetables-”

“A few bags of fresh stuff.” Blake marked down. “You sure the kitchen staff didn't take it?”

“Positive, all's accounted for there. Nothin' extra in the kitchen.”

“Help me gather the rest of the lords. We're having an emergency meeting.” Things were going by so fast it took him a moment to gather himself in the middle of the meeting. Arguing had shot off on what to do about the heretics. Turning to topics Blake wasn't approving. “We're not killing them!” He shouted.

“We have to!” Liam shouted back.

Supported by James. “We should've dealt with 'em a long time ago. They think they can take whatever they want. This is just them testin' the boundaries I bet. If we don't act, they'll walk all over us. Stealin' more, if not everythin', next time.”

“And what after that? Right now it's food, but after they get stronger? What if they go after people like before? Picking us off who step past what rusted fences we have left?”

“Should have left those up.”

“NO!” Blake slammed a fist. “They stole food because they want to live like the rest of us. They could've taken a whole lot more than five rations. Could've taken half the barn in the night, but they didn't. They used restraint in how much they took. They're not heretics. They're survivors that escaped Knoth's iron fist and had no direction to go. Or any sort of outside help that could've led them to safety. I'm not going to be the one who executes them after fighting so hard for survival.” He looked at the others at the table. John looked like he wanted to say something, but shrunk from the table over all the yelling. Mathew looked about the same in the crumbling discussion.

Liam huffed. “Still, something has to be done. If you don't then the rest of us will.”

Marta crushing anymore thought of that. “Step out of line and see what happens.”

“Marta.” Blake warned in name. She gave him a glance then looked away, mumbling verses again. He didn't want her shutting things down, even if they weren't in his favor. That would only breed fear and hatred toward him and keep people silent instead of expressing their problems. “Me and Marta will discuss what to do. I won't kill them, but I won't let them keep stealing from us. The rest of you can leave until I think of something.” Waiting until the hall was cleared.

“Should we kill them now?”

“... No…” If I don't make Val a target, then maybe I won't make myself one

“Should we capture them?”

“No…”

“You wish to leave them?”

“If I could-” Locking up at the thought of taming Val, being caught and taken to the jail. Surely her followers would attempt to break her out. The overhanging fear of if she'd escape in the night. He'd be the grand trophy soon as she got out. Waking to the screams of people her and her followers slaughtered. He'd desperately run to hide in some far off corner. They'd search every crevice until they found him. The sounds of her steps approaching. Her voice coaxing him to come out. When he'd come face to face with her again forcing him down. Covered in muck and blood like down in the mines.

“Blake?” Marta's voice pulled him out of it. “You look ill.”

“Ugh, stress is all.” Swallowing his stomach. “I- ...” God, what do I do? I can't tame Val like she's some feral animal. Do I have to chain her up like one? Need to stop thinking of her like that. She can talk, she's a human being, she's not dumb. Feeling sick he hung his head low. I can't talk to her. She won't dare talk with Marta. Is there- ! His head shot up. “I need a diplomat.”

“Why not speak to her yourself? We know where they are. I can crack her if she takes a chance at you.”

“If I get her under control with a diplomat then as long as she follows the rules.” A nervous laugh escaped him. “Everything will be fine.”

The look he got from Marta showed her doubts. Her tone one that Blake hadn't heard in a long time. “She's a lustful demon who brings misery.” Oozing a viscous hatred toward the one she spoke of. “When her thirst for blood returns. She'll use you to fill her cup first.”

“... Do you want to… ?” In every other case she didn't have the spirit without Knoth's reassuring preaching. When it came to Val however...

“... I was always behind her, even under Knoth and she knew it well.” Her hatred filled gaze locked onto the table. “My faith was imperfect after all. When she fled I was given the task to crush her. To prove how unfaltering my faith was… All I could hear was her unending mockery outside Temple Gate, for months. Always behind... I knew one day I'd get my hands on her and she wouldn't receive an ounce of mercy. No matter how she begged or what pleas to God she'd scream. She knows it, and dares not tempt me whilst in reach.” Her eyes rose back to him. “… If I asked you, would you order me to kill Val?”

“No... Do you think I'm wrong to spare Val? Am I too soft?” Doubting himself on handling the situation.

“No. You have not led me astray yet, angel. You have kept your promise, even if I'm not joyful about it this time, for that I will always trust your lead.”

He smiled. “Thank you.”

“Who will be your diplomat?”

“I don't know… Has to be whoever's inside at least. They've lived within Temple Gate, but Val must trust them a lot.”

“How shall we catch them then? They've been slippin' through our grip for days now anytime one of us nears.”

“We need to draw them out a bit. First is solving the theft problem, which will help with the other. Lock it up tight for a few days then leave it unlocked with a trap set.”

“That seems too obvious.”

“Yes, but we'll starve them into it. if they're that hard for food they'll chance it even if they know full well what it is.”

“What if Val calls in a large group to raid the whole barn? She could send in someone from the outside instead of risking those closer.”

“A huge group like that managing it through the main of Temple Gate? And out again carrying huge loads of food. I don't think she could pull that off with the roaming guard. You can see the storage barn clear from your place already.”

“Are we going to ambush them?”

“No, this will be a lot more subtle. I know banks on the outside have explosive dye packs that stain the skin. Robbers accidentally dye themselves from the trap which leads police right to them. We look for anyone who didn't show for work. Or those suddenly wearing gloves. Check their hands and we'll know immediately. I could set something up like a dye without the bursting part.”

“Out of what?”

“Pen ink for one, a lot of it. I'll need to mix it with something to keep it from drying away. Then I only need a way to spread it on the thief in the act.”

“How long 'till we set this?”

“Three days if I figure it out before then. Just long enough to force their hand before starving. In the meantime keep watching that skittish. Maybe we'll find out more as they get desperate.”

“Let's say you do get 'em marked. What if they run? We'll be outta food and your diplomat.”

“You'll be watching. I know you can catch them. Don't hurt them though.”

Having the foundation for a plan, Blake called back James and Liam. Setting out an order to gather up every lockable cabinet or chest. All food would be locked away in each aside from another lock on the barn doors. James was to watch everyone going into the barn and make sure nothing was taken without permission. Blake promised them both he had more planned, but couldn't say. And that the locks were a small measure for now to set things up. When that was said and done he went to the privacy of his room to experiment with ink and various liquids. Mixing some drops into dish soap, cooking oil, and whatever else he found in the grand hall cabinets. His experiments not delivering a satisfactory mixture that would last. He had patches of dots covering his skin that were coming off far too easily. Half were gone from all the scrub tests he was doing.

What's so annoying to remove from skin? Remembering the time he ate a pomegranate that stained his hands red for a couple days. He went out to raid the kitchen for any fruit. Finding jars of jam to be his only option he grabbed one made of black berry's. His next experimental mixture proved itself to be quite the winner. It would keep the ink alive while providing its own dreadful stain age. The annoying stickiness would provide a small bonus of annoying the thieves causing problems. He stored away his supplies for the future, wrapped in a rugged cloth that would complete the trap. It would be what delivered the dye onto the unsuspecting thieves. Dropping the cloth down might miss or not stain enough. It has to be grabbed for some reason. Wrap up a bunch of supplies they have to unravel? Trunk would be best for that, but what if they just pick it up? Double checking any failures that could occur. The barn's new security measures had prevented anymore theft. Keeping to schedule on setting the trap on the next day. No one knew exactly what the trap was. The most James knew was that they'd “accidentally” leave the barn unlocked at the end of day. In his room Blake was mixing up his sticky dye into the ragged cloth. Wearing gloves the entire time he sloshed the bucket around. The cloth itself was permanently dyed by this point.

Next day he went out, holding his record book in one hand and covered dye bucket in the other. With Marta going one way and him heading for the barn to finalize the trap. Meeting up with James as if following the usual record taking schedule.

“What are we doing?” James asked as he followed Blake into the barn.

He pulled out one locked chest to open. “We're going to take out the jars in this chest, fill it with rocks, put jars back and layer them up into this cloth wet with dye. Set it back and keep it open, everything else stays locked. When whoever comes in to steal they'll pick what's easiest to get to. They can't lift it with the added rocks so they'll have to rummage for the jars. Try to unwrap them and get dye all over their hands. With how sticky it is they might make it worse by trying to wipe it off on their clothes. They'll be covered in dye by the time they leave and anyone else who touches the jars.” He explained while helped by James emptying the chest. Large slabs of stone set as evenly as possible at the bottom. Slipping back on the gloves Blake went to cautiously fold the fabric in. James layering jars between the winding over and under folds. Anybody wanting to grab jars had to slip away the cloth or risk yanking out jars that would break.

“You know, we're basically giving this food to them.” James grunted as they moved the chest. It took extreme effort to shove it back into place. Even Marta would struggle to drag it out. A few carrying it into the rugged forest would be impossible.

“I know, at this point it's allowed. I don't want to starve them to death. Hopefully after this we can set up rationing for them too.” Grabbing the jars was what the trap hinged on to tag any thieves. A loss Blake took as natural to help feed those starving.

“You want to feed them? Why, they haven't done any work to earn it?!”

“I want to make a line of communication with them. If we can work something out then we won't have to fear them any more and they get the help they need.”

“We could just get rid of 'em. Solves our problems and they don't get to eat for free.”

“No. I'm going to help them as much as I helped everyone else.”

“You better hope they don't stab you in the back.” James warned on their way to dinner. Barn door left cracked open to bait who came by.

Blake skipped out on eating. Unable to sleep that night under all the anxiety for tomorrow morning. Carving little figures again of wolves and bears to calm his nerves. When the morning light pooled under his door he left his room to meet the lords. Noticing right away that one was missing. “Where's John?”

Mathew was quick to answer. “He's sick, s-said he might be around later.”

“… Anything important he wanted to tell me?”

“No.” Unblinking without daring a glance away from Blake's stare.

Marta jumped on before Blake could reply. “You seen anyone strange around the hunting party? Skulking around that could be spyin' for Val?”

“N-no, I don't really stay with my dad m-much after workin' the hospital.” Ignoring the fact that Marta was aggressively glaring him down. “Should I be looking? I ain't very good at spotting people. I don't think i-id know.” Shaking under the pressure.

“Okay!” Blake stopped them. “… James, anything new?”

“More foods been stolen.”

Feigning surprise. “Shit, how'd that happen?”

“I think someone accidentally left the doors unlocked.”

“Well, we better double check and record what's gone. Anything important from the rest of you?” Receiving many head shakes. “Alright, dismissed. James, we'll meet you at the barn. Marta, and I need to discuss some things.” Waiting until they were alone to discuss the current unveiling. Marta's aggression unfolding in wanting to grab others she thought were traitors. “Johns a filthy traitor. Saw him fleein' the barn last night. Didn't bother to chase the snake after he headed right home. Think he expects to get the dye off before we notice. Should I interrogate Mathew?”

“See anyone else?” rubbing the bridge of his nose.

“Your second shadow. I chased them, but lost ‘em down one of the alley ways.”

“Great, we'll both go talk to John, but only after we investigate the barn.”

“We should grab him now.”

“He won't want to risk his kid. Keep an eye on Mathew, but wait 'till I say.”

She mumbled a chain of frustrated verses. “As the angel asks, but that boy knows more than he lets on.”

“How do you know?”

“You can read anyone like a book if you watch 'em close enough. Even with your poor sight.”

“Hooow?”

“Each persons different. John's shoulders tense up too much when caught in a lie. Deeper you dig the more uncomfortable he gets. Starts shifting them like he slept on 'em wrong. Mathew gets too bold a stare tryin' to spare himself of guilt. Stumbling over his words like a drunk, with piled up words to buy him time to spin a story.”

“Mm, I'll take note of that.”

“He knows somethin' about that kill in the hall.”

“Do you think he did it?”

“No, not sure where his hand in it was. He did more than run right home, I'm sure of that.”

“Hm.” Save his interrogation for later. “After we interrogate John, I want you to look for anyone else who could be tagged. Then we'll look into Mathew.” Walking them out to the barn where they saw the crime scene inside. Chest shuffled from its last position, but not far. Fabric tossed aside to dye the floor. Chest covered in dark hand prints from being handled so much. All the jars filling it were long gone. “Someones definitely tagged. Me and Marta are going to visit a few we think are involved. For today, pay attention to anyone missing, look for anyone with dye on their hands or those trying to suddenly stay covered.” He told James, on the way out with Marta leading the way to johns. Blake approached the front door to knock.

John answered, partly hiding behind the door. “Sir?”

“Heard you were sick. You okay?”

His voice jitterly assured. “Oh, I'm fine.” Rubbing a shoulder with a gloved hand. “Nothing serious, must be a cold.”

“Why are you wearing gloves?”

“Oh, uh, blisters. From work” Shifting his shoulders. “The cold air doesn't help them feel any better.”

“Oh, I can help those. Let me see.”

“No need. It's not that serious. I think I'll go back to bed now. This cold-”

Marta shoved her way inside. “Sit down.” She ordered with a point to his small dining table. Scaring John into following orders. She loomed over him where he sat while Blake sat down across from him.

Blake ordered, “Let me see your hands.” Instead of asking this time.

John rubbed them together as he glanced around for some way out of this situation. Unable to run while under Marta's watch and unable to talk his way out. He slipped the gloves off to reveal skin covered by that dark reddish dye.

Blake sighed at the sight. “Stand up, we need to go talk.”

John went pale. “I know what I did was serious.” Pleading before anything else was said. “It was all me sir, please don't drag my boy into this. Don't lock him up, I swear-”

“John.” The furious look he shot him shut him up immediately. This whole time Blake had to deal with so much anxiety. That all washed away to a burning anger. “Do you realize how much shit I've been dealing with? You've been stealing food and I had to stop the hunts.” John sat in silence. Blake let out his anger in a frustrated breath. “This is serious. We need a long talk someplace private. Don't cause a scene on the way or you'll make things worse.” Getting him up to head out. Marta aggressively followed him the entire way. They stepped down into the jail where they entered a small side room. Marta stood by the door while Blake and John sat at a table.

Where to begin? Blake thought. “You need to answer honestly or else I can't help anyone here. Right now, you and your son could be jailed or banished out of Temple Gate if you refuse to cooperate.” Seeing John swallow at the threat. He took a deep breath to start the questioning. “Why were you stealing food?” He knew the answer, but this was to get confirmation from John as well as something easy to answer.

“Help feed everyone. It was easier with the foraging still high, but with everything dead 'till spring. Hunting was all that was left. They couldn't catch enough.”

“So you set up the hunting party to be robbed?”

“Yes, The meat never lasted. They were starving even before Knoth's death, over half were sick or too injured to help. Their situation never improved after. Had no supplies to farm, barely a shelter or anything to survive on like Temple Gate has.”

“What else have you given them?”

“Only medication on the day you handed it out.”

“Did you set me up when we first headed for town? You didn't want me bringing Marta along.”

“NO! No, no!” He adamantly denied. Shrinking in his chair as if Marta would bash his skull in any moment now. “We were scared of what Marta would do if she found us. They had no ways to defend themselves. If I was leading, You pass by without Marta and they don't get anymore danger over their heads. When the mudslide hit I convinced James and Jacob to split up. Either they found you or Val would after I asked her for help.”

“Then why was I almost killed?!”

“That wasn't supposed to happen. Val didn't want that, It was Ayzel who did it. He still has a bone to pick with Temple Gate. Val was furious when she caught him and worried Temple Gate would come after us for harming you. The plan from there was to take you to the caves and make sure you were okay. I would've been “caught” to give you support until then. After you were better enough we would have “escaped”. That never happened after you ran. At that point nothing mattered. We were past the caves, Marta was there and she wasn't going to leave after that.”

“So Val's not after me?”

“No, she's not after anyone. Her goal matches yours - keep everyone alive. She's been struggling to keep the clan on their feet.”

“A while ago we caught her and a random member of hers wandering some rotten area. The area south east, close to the cave. She was standing by until we let that one go. What was that about?”

“She'd mention a few times about worrying what Temple Gate was planning. Wanting to keep post at night to feel assured that no attack was coming. One talk we had I noticed she wasn't as paranoid as before. Sounds like what you did helped.”

“Great, is Mathew helping her too?”

“... Yes, but not nearly as much as me. If we were caught I didn't want him blamed. Please don't exile him for this. Please.”

“I won't if you help me with Val.”

John froze at what that could mean. “I- how?”

“I want to make you a diplomat. You'll pass messages between me and Val on how to handle issues between us. I can help them, but they're some conditions. She can't keep stealing food, that has to stop or else. If she agrees to that I'll give them rations, but I need to know the exact number of how many of you there are.” I'll also know officially how many of them there are against us.

“I-I don't know if I-”

“If you can't convince her to agree, then don't bother coming back.” His fierce gaze pierced John's soul. “Stealing food is serious and I won't allow you to stay here. Forcing me to worry about what you'll do next. Putting everyone at risk. Your son can stay, but he'll be demoted and watched more carefully. I'm going to let you go today. Starting now, you have three days to work it out with her or leave. Got that?”

“Yes sir.”

[batboymunson]

through hell & back | s.h.

❀ synopsis; not to pat yourself on the back but you're a pretty damn good partner to steve, even in the craziest of situations

❀ word count; 692

❀ warnings; mentions of blood, vague descriptions of violence

❀ a/n; first time writing for this absolute hunk of a mama bear. season 4, vol. 1 spoilers if you haven't watched yet!

THERE WAS NEVER A dull moment in your life, not since you got yourself roped into the antics of Steve Harrington and his posse of world-saving children. Between life and death, you and Steve had managed to find a way to fit love in somehow - it was like the missing piece of the "what else can happen during this shitshow" puzzle. That being said, there's not a single thing you'd change.

Not even as you found yourself sitting amongst Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley, and Nancy Wheeler in a flimsy at best boat atop Lover's Lake, anxiously staring at the spot where Steve had submerged in search for the gate to the Upside Down. One hand sat on your knee as you drummed your fingers impatiently, the other clutching his discarded shirt so tight your knuckles were white.

"(Name)." Nancy placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small shake. "(Name), please, it looks like you aren't even breathing."

"It's fine, I'm fine, I just. . . Christ." Your face reflected each emotion as it hit you; denial, fear, the whole nine yards. You never tore your eyes away from the water and when Steve finally emerged, you threw yourself at the edge of the boat despite the other three's protests.

"Jesus fucking Christ." You grabbed at his arms, trying to pull him up as he explained what he found down at the bottom of the lake. "That's great, wonderful. C'mon, let's get--"

The rest of your sentence was yanked out of your lungs as Steve suddenly went back underneath with you in tow. He gripped at your arms in a pleading way and you held your breath, trying to make sense of what was going on. When your eyes adjusted to the murky water, you saw that you both were being dragged back towards this gate Steve was talking about. Said boy stared at you with a bewildered expression, trying his best to free his leg as you tried your best to swim in the opposite direction and pull him out.

To both of your dismay, you found yourself gasping for air as the two of you were pulled through the gate and into the Upside Down. You lost your grip on Steve's arm and rolled off to the side, sputtering and coughing as you tried to quickly regain yourself and follow your boyfriend.

"What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck," you wheezed as you got back on your feet, running after Steve and taking in your surroundings. "Oh, what the fuck."

You picked up the pace as bat-like creatures started flying towards the two of you, screeching. Snagging a discarded oar, you swung wildly to keep the hellish creatures at bay while you joined up again with Steve.

"Shit, Steve!" You noticed one of the bats had him by the throat and started smacking it with the flat of the oar, panicked. "Let go, dammit!"

"(N-Name)," Steve sputtered and you felt yourself welling up as your arms grew heavy and the bat still held strong. You had elected to ignore the gnawing they had done to your own skin save for the occasional "shit" that tumbled out.

A sudden feral scream cut through the incessant screeching of the bats and you turned to see Eddie barreling towards the both of you with an oar in his grip, followed by Nancy and Robin. In time, the four of you managed to get Steve free and with his help, all the demobats that had swarmed you were now on the ground.

"We can't stay here," Nancy panted as she discarded her weapon, "and we really need to clean you two up."

Both you and Steve were torn up, bleeding from multiple wounds. He leaned into your embrace, a long and shaky sigh releasing from his chest as you wrapped your arms around him gently.

"I've got you," you murmured and he laughed quietly. "What?"

Pulling back after kissing your forehead, Steve looked at you admiringly. "I'm sorry I pulled you into this - quite literally."

"I'd go through hell and back for you, Harrington," you replied, gesturing around you. "Quite literally, too."

[secondsonaym]

same anon that was searching for the swap au thingie this morning. Yep, that's the one. Thanks!

...Although, now my curiosity is showing. What would a swap au between Deckard and Star look like?

WHEEZES this is such a good question honestly and it really got me thinking.

So I'm a bit of a nitpicky person for swaps and like to think on the full scope of their swapped status, meaning for these two, they would be swapped right from the beginning, down to determining which lamb is the Lamb of Prophecy as influenced by Shamura, which will cause events to spiral out drastically different in terms of the game's story due to just how different in personality these two are.

So basically, Deckard (or, well, they'd probably go by Azazel in this) as the Lamb of Prophecy, defeating and then choosing to oppose Narinder, while Star is off in the wilderness on her own.

Azazel is basically the inverse of Star in terms of the cult--They run it very well and genuinely care/interact with the followers, and even spend more time with them, while they're terrible with fighting, and end up falling in battle a LOT.

They're also still very meek and under the impression Star is dead, so when the bishop demand them to kneel--well, they do, much to Narinder's fury. They want to be spared, they don't want to do all of this, but what other choice do they have now?

However, as they finally make their way to Silk Cradle, their home, they find somebody they didn't expect to: Star

Turns out she's been off in the wild this whole time, having survived and killed anyone that went after her for the culling. She's also turned to cannibalism as a survival measure, to keep that thread consistent.

However, she doesn't want Azazel to succeed in their mission. She's convinced Narinder doesn't want any good for the world, and if he's returned to power, there won't be life for ANYONE. She wants Azazel to stop their crusade, to submit to the bishops, so the pair of them can at least LIVE, because if things keep going the way they are, then neither of them will survive.

But she also isn't going to fight them over it, so if they decide otherwise, then they should just leave her alone.

Azazel wishes they could comply, happy to know their sister is alive, but Narinder pushes them along, demanding Azazel either kill her then and there or just ignore her and move on.

So Azazel leaves their sister behind.

Then, on the last miniboss fight before Shamura, Azazel is met with a surprise: Rather than a follower turned demon, Star is waiting for them.

As it turns out, Shamura found her not long after the culling, and rather than kill her outright, decided to recruit her. At first, Star just tried to convince Azazel to stop, but now that they are so close to their goal, she has no choice but to fight them, and has been granted power by Shamura.

She transforms, and then the siblings fight, resulting in Star's defeat.

Before she dies, she comments about Azazel's convictions and wonders just how much of their own actions are their own. She admits she didn't truly want to fight them, that Shamura forced her hand, and believes Azazel's situation to be similar.

"Perhaps... Perhaps you can do what I could not, and break your own chains."

----

So when Azazel is to face down Narinder, and manage to defeat him, they don't spare him. They kill him, and then use their new power to bring back Star.

The world may be different from then on, but at least they still have each other.

[chill-pills-yandere-haven]

Hello, I apologize if this is not the best idea but would you consider something like how Genshin yanderes, La signora, Ei (alone or as part of trio with Sara and yae) and nigguang in particular, would react to learning that their darling was being abused by their family, non sexually mind you. I am a sucker for soft yandere content, and have had this idea in my head for nearly a week now lol. Sorry if this ask is a mess, I am not used to sending these. I am not even sure you will see this one.

Order up, fellow chill pill! You brain rotted me so now you will reap what you sowed!

Tw: somewhat-explicit gore on Eimikosara's part, yanderes, depiction of abuse, flashbacks if abuse, mutilation (on eimikosara's part), Ei is electric chair, I had to do some very weird google searches for this, lol.

An: Sorry this took so long, I didn't read the message completely so I thought it was only Signora and Eimikosara. When I reread it and found out I was writing the wrong thing I kind of got writer's block. I also forgot to read the fluff part so Ningguang's part is messed up Stolkholm fluff, though there are cuddle scenes in both Signora and Eimikosara's parts. But still, enjoy!

La Signora

A fist pummeled into your stomach.

Your breath was taken away, left with a shuddering wheeze. Stop. Please, stop.

"Why can't you do anything right!" Your father yelled at you, bottle in hand. Why was he yelling at you?

"Worthless piece of shit!" A kick landed on your shin, your body curling up even more. Tears fell from your eyes. You could barely breathe. Stop! Someone, make it stop!

"Mom-please."

"See! This! This is why you're such a fucking nuisance! You cry for your bitch-ass mother all the fucking time. Why don't you grow up? Huh? Stupid little cunt."

No one was coming to save you or stop anything now.

You woke up, hyperventilating in your and Rosalyne's shared bed.

"Shh, it's alright baby, I'm right here." Bawling your eyes out, she pulled you closer into her chest.

You were wrong. Someone did save you.

But Archons, you were so fucking useless without Rosa. You would've passed out by now from hyperventilation if it wasn't for her. She was right. You should be lucky that she takes care of you. You, useless damn mutt.

"I'm sorry Rosa, please don't leave me again! I'll be good, I promise! I'll even be your little pet if you want me to, I can wear a collar if you want!" You nuzzled into her, crawling on all fours into her lap, just like a dog. So pathetic.

"It's okay, love. You've been a very good little one for me. I won't leave you okay?"

"Thank you, Rosa! I love you so much, thank you for taking care of me." You really were thankful. After all, she could've just left you to die like the pathetic mutt you were.

Even after you came clean about your past, she still loved you. She even tortured and killed the ones who hurt and neglected you as a birthday present! She was such an angel.

You were lucky she loved you so much.

Ei+Miko+Sara

Another sleepless night.

Another scream in the dead of night.

Yae Miko curled up next to you in her fox form nuzzling you and telling you that you were okay. Ei had moved from her place beside you and was now spooning you from behind, playing with your hair. Kujou Sara was in front of you, trying to get you to breathe.

"Another nightmare about them, love?"

"Yeah, I'm sorry," You hid your head in Miko's fur.

"You're alright, dear. You're safe with us. I No one else will ever touch you again, okay dear?" Sara comforted you, exaggerating her breathing for you to copy.

"Love, I'll be just a minute, alright?" Ei moved away and went out of the bedroom. Sara taking her place and now spooning you.

Ei would be the one taking out the trash tonight.

The air stank with iron and filth.

Ei would have preferred to have killed them as soon as they were in her hands but Yae Miko insisted that they suffer before they're given the sweet release of death. In truth, they deserved a hundred thousand deaths if not a million.

They all wished to harm their beloved's abusers in revenge for their darling. However, they knew that those pieces of filth would die much too early if all three of them tortured them at the same time. They all alternated days except for Sundays, Sundays were when they were starved.

Their shared lover's parents were held in chains, dried blood practically covering them. Both of them looked like skeletons, their bones sticking out and at some parts exposed by some of Yae Miko's torture. They lived on a special type of food, edible and able to keep them alive for longer but anyone would have preferred to eat their feces than it.

When they saw Ei, both tried to open their mouths. They probably forgot that they couldn't speak now that Yae chopped off their tongues because they kept saying that they were innocent. As soon as Miko saw them on the edge of death, she cauterized the wound and made one of the servants heal them just so they would live to be tortured a little longer.

'Let's start with a little shock. After all, that's how my love has to wake up because of them.' Ei channelled Electro and made them feel about 30 volts coursing through their veins. They let out undignified yelps, though it wasn't like they had any dignity in the first place, not when they hurt her beloved.

Scars of electro and bloodied bruises covered both of them. Their faces were marred by dried blood, electricity, and scars, so much that they were unrecognizable. Mainly due to Sara feeling guilty because they looked like her lover so Yae scarred them beyond recognition. Their clothes were mere oversized scraps as well.

Ei kicked one of them in the ribs. She didn't matter who, all that mattered was that they suffered.

The night was young and Ei wouldn't be sated until they were thoroughly punished for not letting her beloved get their sleep.

Ningguang

"Love? Love, you're spacing out again. Are you okay?"

"Oh, yeah I am, Ning. Just, thinking about them again," you let out a sigh. You were supposed to be having a romantic dinner with your amazing wife, but all you could think about was the past.

Ningguang may have 'forced you' into an arranged marriage with her, making your folks financially unstable to achieve it, but it had been just what you needed.

You were free.

You didn't have to deal with your narcissistic, controlling, asshole parents anymore. You could do what you wanted without having to look over your shoulder every second. You weren't guilt-tripped into giving them money when you were barely afloat. You were living the good life.

All with the bonus of marrying the richest woman in the world, living like the richest person in the world, and having someone to sate your need for affection.

Yes sure, you weren't allowed to leave or speak to anyone other than Ning, but you were fine with that. After all, things could've been much worse. You could've still been in contact with your parents.

You ate like royalty, were dressed in only the finest Liyuean silks, and so on and so forth. You were living in the lap of luxury and all you needed to do to continue doing so was play pet for a nice lady who most likely killed for you in the past. You'd been through worse. Though you couldn't deny that you were a captive.

"Open your mouth," Ningguang spoon-fed you another bite of food.

You might've been a captive, but you knew you'd be lying if you said you weren't falling for her. The way her eyes lit up when you followed her instructions. How her soft yet calloused hand caressed your cheek, making sure you swallowed every grain of rice. Her lips looked so soft right now as well, you couldn't help but bring her lips to yours.

You might've been a captive, but Stockholm was your kidnapper.

[apocalypticgargoyle]

𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙍𝙄𝘾𝙆 | 𝙠𝙖𝙧𝙡 𝙟𝙖𝙘𝙤𝙗𝙨 (18+)

edit by 🐓 anon. im still screaming over this.

∘ request: [insert the 14 asking for more Sapnap humor in a pt. 1.5 of Meet the Jacobses]

∘ pairings: edgy!Karl Jacobs x fm!reader

∘ warnings: smut (18+), nsfw, language, drinking, mentions of Todd the frat boy, lots of dialogue, biting, asphyxiation

∘ links: 𐐪 ao3 𐑂 𐐪 previous part 𐑂 𐐪 submit an edgy!karl edit 𐑂

∘ a/n: this one goes out to the babes in the gc. ily.

i stole the Brick idea from the Jesse McCartney movie, Keith. I'm sorry. [tw for that link - sad & jesse mccartney not talking about beautiful souls]

also thank you everyone for your support on this series. when my friends and I conjured this up, I never thought I would be at the point where I get to share peoples art/paylists/etc. I'm so thankful for all of you.

okay I'll stop crying. happy reading and have a great week! :)

The sun beat down against your skin, your mind drifting to whether or not you should apply more sunscreen. Karl jumped into the light blue water in front of you, the water splashing out to almost completely soak you. You frowned at him as he came up for air, blowing you a kiss mockingly.

Sapnap’s cousins started tackling Karl, the chorus of laughter echoing around the pool. You stretched your legs out beneath the table, leaning into the shade of the umbrella as you watched them roughhouse.

Sapnap came out from the pool house, opening a beer bottle for you before taking the seat beside you. He sighed, buttoning the top of his shirt as he watched the boys. “Did you have a good time at the party yesterday? I dipped after an hour,” he asked, pushing his sunglasses to rest on top of his head.

You shrugged slightly, taking a sip of your drink. You couldn’t wait to tell your roommate how lavishly you’d been living. The fact that you were lounging by a heated pool, drinking beer from Copenhagen with the sons of millionaires was nearly mind-boggling to you.

You wet your lips, squinting your eyes as you looked at him. “I honestly have no idea. I was kind of just there as a Karl accessory,” you joked, making him chuckle softly.

“Yeah, I get that,” he flipped off one of the cousins as they threatened to throw water at him. “It’s always the Karl show around here,” he added. You raised your eyebrows at him and he backtracked. “I didn’t mean that in a bad way. He’s a good guy; everyone’s just obsessed with him.”

You nodded slightly. “Yeah, he’s definitely the star baby,” you joked, making him laugh. “I need to ask you…” You bit your lip voice trailing off as you searched for the night words.

He sent you a closed-mouth smile. “About my mom and Karl?” He asked, biting back a blithe expression. It shocked you how calm he was about the situation.

You chuckled nervously. “I swear I won’t bring it up again, I’m just,” you cut yourself off, unable to describe the question marks pulsing through your thoughts.

He snorted, taking a sip of his drink. “I know right,” he reassured. “When I found out, I almost broke Karl’s nose,” he chided. “Not that I was like… angry it was my mom but out of how weird it was.”

“Yeah it is really fucking weird,” you agreed, laughing slightly.

He gestured as if to thank you for understanding. “I mean, Karl’s a great guy. He was my best friend for a long time but…” He made a face suggesting his discomfort and you snicked. “That’s my mom, man.” You giggled wholeheartedly at this, making him laugh too.

“What are you guys talking about?” Karl asked, seemingly appearing out of nowhere, dripping wet from his pool time adventures.

“Speak of the Devil and he shall appear,” you joked, making Sapnap wink at you. “Tacitus’ Annals,” you answered, making Sapnap nod at you.

He chewed on his lip, with a calm expression as he supported your lie. “I was telling your girlfriend how much I enjoyed his love of Nero,” he continued, you bit back a smile.

Karl ruffled his hair out in a towel. “Come on now,” he grumbled, calling the two of you on your bullshit.

Sapnap squinted as he looked up at him. “Karl supremacy. As always,” he answered with a touch of quiet sarcasm, making Karl roll his eyes playfully as he took to the other seat beside you.

Karl ran his fingers into his hair. “You wanna get matching tattoos together, Sapnap?” He quipped; Sapnap sending him a smug expression.

“Why? What were you thinking?” He asked, knowing he was walking into whatever Karl was setting up.

Karl pulled the leg of his swim trunks off his leg a bit, furrowing his brows. “I wanna get your mom’s name on the top of my thigh,” he teased, biting his lip. You rolled your eyes playfully.

Sapnap let out a sarcastic laugh. “Oh my God, that’s so funny. I totally didn’t see that coming.”

Karl took a sip of your beer and you spoke up. “I think you’d look good with a tattoo, Sapnap. All jokes aside, you’ve got a great body,” you mused, sending him a wink. Sapnap bit back a smile looking at Karl, who you could already tell was glaring back at him. “Side note, I was meaning to ask you. There’s a guy that’s in Karl’s frat,” you paused, trying to remember what Karl had said Todd’s real name was when you were pinning his auction number on him.

Sapnap raised his eyebrows. “Oh, Mark?”

You pointed at him. “Yes, the fake Romney.”

Sapnap snorted. “He did that on campus too?” Karl nodded, a look of disappointment spreading across their faces.

“Speaking of Todd Mark, the king of the Brick” Karl kicked his feet beneath your chair before continuing, “I heard there’s a bonfire tonight,” he probed, making Sapnap slowly shake his head in disapproval.

You raised an eyebrow at the two. “What’s the Brick?”

Sapnap seemed to have already made up his mind on the situation. “A fucking cesspool,” Sapnap grumbled, sipping from his bottle as Karl tsked. Sapnap tilted his head. “You really wanna take her to the Brick? People get together and smoke crack over there. The fact that,” he paused to furrow his brows at you slightly, “Todd Mark? is the benefactor should say something,” he stated, lips curling into an uneasy expression.

You peered over your shoulder at Karl as if to ask if he were crazy. Karl swatted off your gesture. “They don’t smoke crack this time of year. All the locals are back visiting for break.”

Sapnap shook his head again in unease. You chewed your lip, leaning back in your chair. “I don’t know… Sapnap, do you wanna have a movie night instead?” You joked, making Karl sigh behind you.

Sapnap mimicked your mock severity. “Yeah, a stay in and cuddle?”

“Of course,” you repeated.

Karl wheezed. “No, we’re going.”

Without missing a beat, Sapnap chimed back. “Maybe you can take my mom instead?” Karl’s expression flattened at his words and you nodded, high fiving Sapnap in mock victory.

Despite Sapnap’s hesitation, you all went to what they referred to as The Brick. In reality, it was a spot on the edge of a lake. They only called it the Brick because of Todd’s dad, a racecar driver who claimed the post back when he was in high school and later bought it. A large bonfire burned in the center of the space, various people around your age and a bit younger were either dancing to the music coming from one of the souped-up sports cars or shotgunning beers. You pushed away the thought of your stingy fire marshall back home who―more than once―had reported you and your family for “overactive cookouts.”

“Overactive,” meaning your dad and Clay were failing at not catching hotdogs on fire when the two would get lost in a chat about a mutual videogame when the families would cross the fence line in the summer.

As soon as you had stepped foot on the gravel, Karl was welcomed back like some kind of celebrity, so you stayed close to Sapnap. He would lean towards your height, pointing people out that Karl had mentioned in the past or those worth noting. You nodded along, soaking in what he had to tell you and laughing at his jokes.

A random guy strolled past the two of you, making Sapnap purse his lips. “Hey, Sapnap. How’s your mom?” One of the countless jokes thrown at him since you’d arrived.

He tilted his head with a mock look of questioning. “Didn’t your parents just get divorced, Jeff?” He deflected. Jeff’s face dropped slightly as he moved on. You always found yourself struggling not to laugh at how well Sapnap was at counteracting the jabs at his mom and Karl. Most of you felt guilty for how long he had dealt with it.

Karl watched you carefully as you sat down beside Sapnap on one of the vast benches; hands shoved in his pockets as the group around him caught up. You were glad to have someone around like Sapnap, despite the fact that you often went to parties. In the past, it was more of a bi-annual thing, but since being with Karl, you found yourself shoulder to shoulder with nameless people in a line doing shots every other Thursday.

You laughed as Sapnap joked about avoiding the drinks at the Brick because of the mites in the water and the STDs in the beer. “So, I never asked how you met Karl?” He queried, sticking his hands into the pocket of his Baja hoodie.

You smiled slightly. “Uh…” Shameless thoughts of you on your knees in a random building when you barely knew his name paced through your head like a quickfire of serotonin. “We had a lecture together and he liked my handwriting.” Sapnap smirked, chuckling slightly at your words.

Karl’s eyes were trained on the two of you, demeanor shifting each time one of you leaned towards the other to hear over the music or the two of you bumping each other’s arms to grab your attention. You knew he wasn’t jealous, but his look of curiosity was almost hilarious to you. Sapnap stuck by your side while Karl introduced you to his friends. He was basically your encyclopedia on the newer people as Karl would go off on a tangent with them.

The fact that Karl was so close to all of them and was so popular made your heart swell with pride. You were used to Karl’s deadpanned glares at most of his frat brothers and his snide comments, but now he was welcomed back like he was some kind of hero returning from the war.

After saying goodbye to Sapnap for the day, you threaded your fingers with Karl’s, enjoying the time where it was just the two of you. He brought the back of your hand to his lips, smoothing a kiss against your skin. “So… Sapnap’s mom…” you began, making him chew the inside of his cheek. “Where… did it happen?”

He looked down at you with a perked eyebrow before raising his sights forward, pulling you off the street where the two of you were walking. You followed him as the pair of you snuck through between the houses and across the backyards until the two of you were at Sapnap’s house again. Through the front windows, you could see him talking to his sibling in the kitchen.

Karl grabbed your hand, leading you along the side of the estate and toward the pool house. You wanted to groan at the thought before he pulled you through the door with him. “Are you serious?” You hissed, looking around at the dark place. Karl fought not to smirk as he peered out through one of the windows, watching the lights in Sapnap’s house turn out.

The moonlight streamed through one of the slender windows, illuminating his face and washing his features clean. Your gaze trailed along his arms; his tattoos peeking out from beneath his hoodie as he reached up to lock the door.

He turned back to face you, walking closer to you. “Did you have fun today?” He asked, plopping down on one of the couches and pulling you into his lap. He moved your arms to rest around his neck, pressing his lips to your skin. “I feel like I didn’t see you at all. Sapnap’s a bogart,” he muttered jokingly, settling his hands on your hips.

You scoffed before leaning toward him, pressing your lips against his. “Make it up to me,” you murmured, raking your fingers into his hair. “I think I selfishly need you to ruin me here; you know. Like a cleansing of you and Ms. Scarlet,” you chided.

He bit his lip, eyes pulsing with lust as he fought not to grin. You pressed your lips against his, turning to lay back on the couch and yank him on top of you. He chuckled into your kiss, as your hands moved to curl into his hair. His lust was a taste you could get drunk off if given the chance as his hands traveled the length of your body, moaning as you ground your hips against his, gripping into his clothes.

He leaned off of you momentarily to pull his shirt over his head as you slipped out of yours, you wrapped a leg around him, pushing him onto the couch instead and pinning him between your thighs as you straddled him, running your hands up his tattooed chest and connecting your lips again.

One of his large hands covered your breast as you began to grind your hips against his. His teeth grazed against your skin as he caressed your body while you moved against him, trying to create as much friction as you could against his jeans. He ran his fingers along the hem of your underwear, his lips curling into a smirk as he moved slightly to get a better look. "These are nice. Did you plan this?" He leered, snapping the elastic against your hip playfully. You rolled your eyes, pulling his chin towards you and pressing your lips against his. Every movement of his body seemed to lick at the fire deep within you.

You smirked breathlessly as his lips settled against your collarbones. “These are my church clothes. I had no other motive,” you jousted. His hand reached up to rest against your collarbone, his fingers lightly curling around your neck.

“Of course, how could I not realize,” he jabbed, pressing his lips and tongue against your neck. You moaned, tugging at his zipper before wrapping your hand around his cock, pumping him into harder arousal. He groaned against your neck, bucking into your hand lightly. His head tilted back against the couch beneath you, cheeks flushed at the attention. His teeth nipped at your skin as you ground yourself against his thigh, basking in his noises of pleasure.

His cock pulsed in your hand, making him grab your wrist and pull you beneath him. He gripped one of your legs, resting it in the crook of his elbow as he pushed himself into you, connecting your lips to swallow your moans. The feeling of him inside of you sent a wave of pleasure through your body. His voice was low in your ear, murmuring your name as if it were a curse. You moaned as he took one of your hands, lacing your fingers together beside your head as he kissed you again, tongue slipping into your mouth.

His thrusts became more rhythmless, his hold on you driving him deeper as the pool house filled with the noises of your whimpering moans. Karl’s breath was warm on your neck as he took advantage of your submissive state. He moved his hand from around your leg, wrapping his fingers around your neck again. Your body shivered, waiting for the pressure of his hand as his hips rocked against yours.

He chuckled darkly, teeth grazing against your shoulder before his lips hovered beside your ear. “Beg for it,” he commented, voice strained as he thrusted into you.

You swallowed, fingers digging into his back. “Choke me,” you groaned, “please.” His hand tightened around your neck, breath hitching in your throat as his thrusts became rougher. He bit back a smug grin at the way you reacted to his antics, relishing in your body beginning for more.

He relaxed his hand, pressing his lips to yours as you struggled to inhale. Heat ran through your body as your leg curled around his waist, nails raking down his back.

You leaned away from his lips, voice coming out unevenly as you moaned his name. His movements became sloppier as you groaned in bliss, tugging the flesh of his bottom lip between your teeth. You tipped your head back slightly as you reached your climax, riding out your pleasure and sending him over the edge as he pulled you closer to him, his hands digging into your hips as he encouraged you to continue grinding against him. You exhaled deeply, pressing your lips against his neck and his cheek before kissing him breathlessly as your movements slowed.

You pulled on your shirt, Karl’s hands moving to rest on your hips as he pressed a kiss to your neck. “Should we leave a note for Ms. Scarlet?” You joked, making him chuckle as his arms wrapped further around your waist, cheek pressing against your shoulder.

“Who?” He teased.

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[i-lovethatforme]

Jess my love I hope you write hurt comfort soon because I need some after nwh </3

day eleven: i remember when you were here

Peter throws the mail on the kitchen worktop. It's the last day of Hannukah and therefore he doesn't have to open overdue bills. It's a rule May made up when they were struggling when he was barely a teenager. It made sense then and it makes sense now.

He wants to pay to have the electricity put back on because it's barley five in the afternoon and it's basically pitch black because winter is a nightmare and he's about to run out of candles but Jameson is being annoying about the series of photos Peter handed in this week and his paycheck is late.

Peter can't argue that fact though, because Jameson is a menace to society but technically, Peter was late with the submission. In his defence, he was trying to keep a bus from falling into the Hudson at the time.

It's whatever. He charged his phone at the café today and he has the candles from the menorah and he's probably going to fall asleep in about seven minutes anyway because he's exhausted.

He flips through the bills even though he doesn't want to because he's trying to be a functioning member of society and he needs to know how many photos he needs to stumble upon for Jameson tomorrow.

Peter needs the electricity back on because his suit is about to tear at the seam and his hand stitching isn't holding. The hot water can wait an extra week. FEAST gave him a bag of food so he's probably fine.

He's about to give up but then his hands reach a letter. It's not a bill and he almost sobs with relief until he remembers it's been almost a full year and no one knows who he is.

But he flips it over and he recognises that handwriting.

MJ.

He tears it open. It's just a small note but he'll put it on the fridge next to his post it from May anyway.

"Hey, Tiger. I sent a video to Spidey's Twitter, stop ignoring my DMs."

He grabs his phone with way too much force, his hands shaking as he scrolls through the DMs on his Twitter searching for her name. He avoids social media as much as possible these days, there are too many people trying to figure out his identity and he fucked that up before.

But he'd find MJ anywhere, so he's not sure how he missed her at all. But he can't find her now - until he stumbles upon an account for Mary Jane. MJ never uses her real name on social media.

Peter takes a deep breath as he opens it, the small flood of messages pouring through ranging from "I don't know if this is going to sound weird but I think I know you" to "Peter you better fucking reply to me" to "I figured out where you live and no I won't apologise."

The last messages are kind, understanding words he would never deserve from her. That she understands if it's too much for him. That she hopes he's okay. That she found something he might like. That she loves him.

He wipes the tears from his face, not really noticing they'd fallen at all as he clicks on the video.

It takes a second to load, the black screen mocking him as he sees there are thirty two seconds for him to rewatch until he's grey.

His chest collapses as he sees his home on the screen, the warm colours of May's blankets and pillows he never got to bring with him, shaking in the view because whoever is holding the phone is laughing too hard. MJ comes into the shot, her hair covered in flour and she frowns.

"May!" she exclaims, though she can't help but laugh as well. Her hands are covered in a dough that's definitely supposed to be way dryer than that.

"Sorry sweetie," May replies and Peter lets out an ungodly sound. They gave May's phone number away so he hasn't been able to hear her voice since his voicemails got deleted and now he can barely breathe.

"I just thought Peter would find it funny," May wheezes.

"I'm never making him anything again," MJ grumbles. And she's beautiful. She's so beautiful he thinks he might just die right here. but then the view changes and both his girls are on screen.

"May," he whispers, his thumb rubbing the screen.

"Hey Peter," she replies. Well, not to him but he can pretend. "Your girlfriend is making you challah," she says, wrapping her arm around MJ even as MJ struggles to getaway. The way they liked each other is one of the only things Peter thinks about when times are hard. He lost them both, but they loved him and they loved each other.

May walks away as MJ goes to wash her hands. She's still smiling at the screen.

"You got a good one there, sweetheart. Don't do anything stupid," she says with a wink.

"I larb you!"

And then the video ends.

"I larb you," he sobs, his head leaning on his arms on the kitchen counter. He watches the video too many times, his phone battery diminishing rapidly until he cements what she's saying into his head.

Don't do anything stupid.

He dials the number he's dialled multiple times before, only to cancel before it manages to ring. He presses the green button, though he's not sure MJ will answer an unknown call. But then it clicks.

"Hello?"

He shudders in a breath at how similar she sounds. Annoyed yet graceful that anyone dared interrupt whatever she was doing.

"Hi," he replies.

"Peter?" she gasps and he can hear her frantically moving, the slamming of a door. "Peter?"

"Yeah - I got - I'm sorry I haven't been in touch."

"It's alright," she whispers and he can imagine the pained look on her face. "Are you okay?"

"Er, not really," he chuckles, never wanting to willingly lie to her. "I'm better now I can talk to you."

"I'm in Boston but erm, I can drive down if - erm, if you wanted to see me."

"I'll come to you," he replies, already packing a bag. She can't come here he doesn't even have hot water.

"You can't swing all the way to Boston, Pete."

"Why not?" he laughs, feeling the familiar warmth through his body at her voice.

"You're so ridiculous!" she laughs, then, "please. I'll come pick you up and if you want you can stay here for a few days - there's crime in Boston you know."

"I'll meet you halfway," he bargains.

"You're the worst... and I miss you."

"I miss you," he says, a sob breaking off his words. "I miss you so much."

"I know," she replies, and he can imagine her hand against his cheek. "I'll see you soon?"

"Okay, see you soon, Em."