#it looks like it's been beaten into a bloody pulp by someone

[st4rsinthenight]

★angel.★

[megxplryxb]

Someone to Save You

Pairings: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Mostly fluff, slight mention of death (Billy), mention of violence (evil Russians), no use of y/n, set in Season 3.

Notes: Short fic that’s been unfinished in my drafts for far too long and I got tired of seeing it sitting there judging me.

"I guess we're gonna have to find new jobs now huh?" Robin laughs anxiously, brows raised, eyes wide as she tries her best to lighten the mood while you both sit in the back of an ambulance watching on as Hawkins finest attempt to extinguish the flames currently engulfing what remains of the Starcourt mall. It was clear the two of you were still visibly shaken up, trying to come to terms with everything that had happened in the last twenty four hours and a part of you wondered if you were still tripping from the drugs you’d been injected with earlier because there was no way you had actually fought a monster like creature from another dimension back in the food court, let alone gotten kidnapped and held hostage by an army of Russian soldiers.

The sound of sirens echoing throughout the parking lot made you wince as your head pounded in agony from the beating you’d taken at the hands of the guards during their unsuccessful interrogation of yourself and Steve. Looking down to inspect yourself, you see your Scoops uniform covered in blood and vomit, your legs and arms covered in cuts and bruises and the bottom of your lip split wide open, making you wonder how the fuck you had actually managed to make it out in one piece.

It was only supposed to be for fun, trying to translate that stupid Russian code. Something to do to pass the time during your shifts at Scoops Ahoy, a form of entertainment in between having to serve bratty children and stuck up parents their ice cream. It wasn’t meant to end up with you and Steve being beaten to a bloody pulp or with the mall burning down and it certainly wasn’t meant to end with the death of Billy Hargrove. Unfortunately, there was much more going on beneath the surface of Hawkins, Indiana than you could have ever imagined and somehow you’d managed to get yourself directly caught in the crossfire.

"Yeah, it looks like it." You eventually mutter, not really listening to your friend as she rambles on about how the government was going to cover all of this up, long zoned out, too focused on your handsome coworker to care about any cover up story.

Your eyes had been glued to Steve Harrington since the paramedics helped him to another ambulance across the lot to get checked out. Dustin Henderson was standing by his side as always, refusing to leave his friend and hero alone. His face and presumably his body were badly battered after the punishment he had taken during your time in the Russian base, trying his best to protect you and keep you safe. Steve had pleaded with the guards to let you go, promising he’d tell them everything they wanted to know once they guaranteed your safety but you refused to abandon him and in the end, you both suffered the consequences until Robin, Erica and Dustin had come to your eventual rescue.

Watching Steve get knocked unconscious had absolutely terrified you. His lifeless body unresponsive on the floor as you screamed for him to wake up, to move, to do anything just to let you know he was alive. When he finally came to, you wrapped yourself around him, sobbing uncontrollably into his chest with relief when he mumbled that he was ‘ok’, even managing to tease you for being a blubbering mess over him when you always claimed to hate him.

It was true, you did hate him back in High School. Couldn’t stand him or his shitty friends and the way they believed they were actual fucking royalty. But then you graduated, hoping to forget the trauma of Hawkins High, got a job working in Scoops Ahoy and to your utter horror, Steve Harrington was behind the counter wearing a god damn sailor outfit that didn’t even fit him right. Of course, Robin tried to tell you that things were different now, that he wasn’t the same asshole from school. His ‘King’ title long relinquished and his trust fund completely confiscated and in your eyes, it was karma and karma was a bitch. Admittedly, you were also a bitch, refusing to believe he’d actually changed his ways, giving the cold shoulder, throwing a harsh comment whenever the opportunity presented itself. It’s not like he didn’t deserve it and Steve too gave just as good as he got, annoying you on a daily basis, ruining every possible chance you had of a date when someone tried to ask you out, spilling ice cream on your uniform and just making a total nuisance of himself around you.

It’s only when his Dad arrived into the parlour one evening to collect him that you really felt sorry for Steve. His BMW had been in the garage and his Dad walked in, tossing him some clothes to change into before he left the mall, not wanting anyone to see his son “looking like an idiot”. You don’t know why seeing Steve being ridiculed and humiliated by his own Father mad you angry but it did. You could still remember the look on Steve’s face when it happened and a part of you wanted to defend him, to pull him into you and hug him but that would have been weird back then. So you decided to give him a break after that night, finally getting to know him after a longer than usual shift, both of you stuck cleaning up after a birthday party and you realised Robin was right. He had changed. He was kind and sweet and somehow he had six kids who absolutely adored him and the longer you were around him, you couldn’t help but start to adore him too.

“It’s okay to admit that you care about him, y’know?” Robin whispers, nudging your shoulder, shaking you from your thoughts of Steve. “Dingus is a good guy and it’s pretty obvious he cares a lot about you.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Robin.” You laugh dismissively, trying to avoid the conversation completely because maybe you weren’t fully ready to admit your feelings to yourself yet.

“Oh please! You know exactly what I’m talking about. You’re totally into each other.” She states but you shake your head defensively, hoping it was too dark for her to see the tints of pink on your cheeks.

“No, it’s not like that. I mean, Steve could barely stand to be around me a couple of weeks ago. There’s no way he has actual feelings for me.” You assert but it does little to dissuade Robin who’s had a front row seat to your constant bickering over the last couple of months and while it seemed like you both truly despised each other at the beginning, it became clear to her that you and Steve were hiding behind your real feelings and the last few days only made it all the more obvious.

“Come on, I’ve seen the way he looks at you, the way he gets totally jealous every time Jason Carver comes in to flirt with you. He tries to act like he doesn’t care but his face gives him away every time. Not to mention how happy he was when you fell asleep on his shoulder in that damn elevator, poor guy couldn’t stop gazing at you.” She chuckles as Erica walks towards you both.

“You’re talking about Harrington right? Dustin said he’s totally in love with you and since I’ve spent the last twenty four hours stuck with your insane asses, I’m inclined to agree with him.” The younger Sinclair smirks, folding her arms. You try your best to ignore them both, reverting your gaze back towards the direction of Steve who’s already looking right at you. Dustin is pointing your way, speaking passionately and although you can’t hear what he’s saying, you assume it’s about you because Steve quickly slaps his hand away before rolling his eyes at the younger boy.

“See?” Robin nudges you again. “He keeps looking over here. Just go talk to him, please? Put us all out of our misery.” She begs, giving you puppy dog eyes as Erica whistles at Dustin to call him over, giving him a small thumbs up as he grins widely and starts to make his way over.

“Why do I feel like I’ve just been set up?” You grit your teeth, glaring at your friends.

“Maybe because you have been.” Robin smiles sweetly, shoving you forward as you begin to walk towards Steve. Your stomach twists as you get closer to the boy, hoping you don’t look as anxious as you feel. If everyone else could tell you had feelings for him, wasn’t it likely he knew too?

“If you came over here to tell me I look like shit, you're too late, Henderson already beat you to it.” Steve jokes, looking at you through his one good eye, the other badly swollen as he holds an ice pack to his face, wincing a little from the cool contact.

“Relax Harrington, you’re still annoyingly pretty. I just wanted to make sure you were doing ok.” You say, taking a seat beside him on the edge of the ambulance as he scoots over for you. "Besides, it’s not like I can talk right now, I'm sure I don’t look much better.” You sigh as he scans the injuries on your face, hating himself for getting you caught up in all of this mess.

“Nah, don’t worry. You’re still beautiful .” He smirks, his bruised face still achingly gorgeous in the night sky as you both lock eyes, sitting in silence for a moment before you finally remember to breathe.

Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington had just called you beautiful. You— the girl he once claimed to hate. The girl that used to drive him utterly insane in High School. Shit, in the few short months you’ve worked in Scoops Ahoy with Steve, you’ve heard him use many terms when talking about other girls, ‘hot’ ‘cute’ ‘pretty’ but he’d never used the word beautiful. Did he really think you were beautiful?

“I think you’re still high, Steve.” You blush, placing a strand of hair behind your ear as he shakes his head.

“No. For the first time in a while, I think I’m seeing things pretty clearly actually.” He affirms, too confidently for a guy who looks like he’s just gone ten rounds with Muhammad Ali.

“I’m not sure how that’s possible when you can’t see out of one eye right now but okay.” You giggle and he laughs with you.

“Come on, you know what I mean.” He playfully bumps your shoulder to grab your focus. His caramel eyes moving to your lips before looking back at you again and suddenly there’s a familiar tension in the air between you that you’ve refused to acknowledge before.

“Do I?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper as you take the ice pack from him, holding it to the side of his face soothingly.

“God I hope so.” He breathes out, lifting his hand to cover yours. You can sense that he’s nervous and you almost want to laugh at how insane this all seems. The thought of Steve Harrington being nervous because of you would have been comical a couple of months ago but here you are, wanting nothing more than for him to kiss you stupid.

“I’m really fucking sorry for getting you guys mixed up in all of this.” He mutters, a guilty look across his face as he lowers his head.

“Hey, no. None of this is your fault Steve. Nobody could have known what was going to happen.” You try to comfort him but he can’t help feel slightly responsible.

“No, I should have known the reason those Russian’s came to Hawkins. I should have known that thing was back. God I’m so stupid!” He spits with anger in his voice, throwing his head back.

“You’re not stupid Steve.” You say softly, gently placing your hand on his thigh.

“Come on honey, you can say it, s’not like I don’t already know.” He half laughs and you hate that he thinks of himself that way, that he thinks you think of him that way.

“I don’t think that Steve, I never thought that. An asshole? Yes. Selfish? Hell yes. But not stupid, never stupid and after actually getting to know you—the real you and not the person you pretended to be in High School, I can safely say I was wrong about who I thought you were.” You admit, finally finding the courage to reach for his hand and intertwining your fingers with his.

“Oh yeah? What changed your mind hmm?” He asks, grinning as he turns his body fully towards you, rubbing his thumb over the delicate skin of your knuckles.

“I’m not sure really, maybe seeing how good of a babysitter you are, how protective you are of all your kids. That might have had a little something to do with it.” You tease as he chuckles with you. “Only a little huh?”

“Well, it might also have something to do with you saving my life. Trying to sacrifice yourself so they’d let me go. That was really brave Steve.” You whisper, trying to stop yourself from getting choked up.

“And it was really stupid of you to refuse.” Steve replies, immediately wiping away the tear he can see trailing down your cheek.

“Hey, if we go down, then we go down together. That’s the Scoops Ahoy! policy remember?” You remind him as he shakes his head at you, cupping your face, caressing the apples of your cheeks. “I don’t know what I’d have done if something bad happened to you. Every time they touched you, every time they even looked at you— god I wanted to fucking kill them.”

“Careful Harrington, it almost sounds like you care about me.” You breathe out, hypnotised by his full pink lips as you realise they’re inching incredibly closer to yours.

“Shit honey, what gave it away?” He smirks at you, finally closing the space between you as his lips gently meet yours in a warm embrace. You can hear the wolf whistles from across the lot, both of you laughing into the kiss as your friends cheer you on and you can’t help feel like a kid playing spin the bottle for the first time.

You eventually break apart when the medic coughs awkwardly, mortified that he’s had to stumble across a make out session as you both try your best to hide your embarrassment, your cheeks flushing bright red.

“Alright Mr Harrington, from what I can see, it looks like you’ve got a bit of a concussion there. I know you mentioned your parents are currently out of town so I think it might be best if we keep you in overnight at the hospital tonight.” The man says as you watch Steve sigh heavily.

“I’m sure I’ll be ok by myself, I’m not really the biggest fan of hospitals sir.” He admits, swallowing hard and you can’t help but be mad at his parents for once again being absent when he needed them.

“I’m really not comfortable with you being alone tonight Mr Harrington, I’d rather you come—“

“He won’t be alone. He can come stay with me, I’ll look after him.” You interrupt, taking Steve’s hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. His head turns to you immediately, eyes glossy and mouth open in awe of your kindness, he feels like his heart is going to explode.

“Are, are you sure?” He mumbles, blushing as you kiss him on the cheek.

“Of course I’m sure, I owe you for saving my life. Maybe it’s time, you let someone save you.”

[deafeningfanlight23]

"Building Just A Place Where Suns Deserve A Home."

This oneshot is based off THIS episode, "Moon FINDS DARK SUN", and about this sentence referenced in the title that Dark Sun said!

ENJOY MY FELLOW TSAMS FANS! :D [And I'm sorry it's poorly written kinda IT'S ALMOST 4 AM FOR ME OKAY 😭🙏]

And this is btw the Sun from the other dimension who beat HIS Moon to death so don't get confused ^^'

-------------------------

TRIGGER WARNINGS - ROBOT GORE (?), DEATH

„Die, Die, DIE!“

This was the only thing Sundrop had been hearing from his mouth for a long time that felt like skipping a minute backwards whenever his aching fist would ram against the metal. First, it was a shout driven by the history of violence and abuse that had pushed him towards his breaking point, had carved their markings onto his mind and body that now began to gush out with blood, but now, it turned almost into a begging of closure. A closure that wouldn’t arrive, no matter how many times he would hit, scream, kick, slam. Each time he felt how his wound, ripped-open knuckles met the harsh surface of metal whose icy cold shot throughout his body, it only fed into this insatiable desire for revenge, to see him beaten down and rotting forever as this corpse that would never be a part of his life anymore. He wanted him erased, not just his body – But the memories that were attached to his voice, appearance, gestures, even mere name. Just flickering his gaze towards his soulless, black sockets and oil-caked face made him shake in both anger and fear. It felt like he relived each moment where he was screamed at, scolded, name-called, beaten, reduced to nothing more than a sobbing individual who would do anything to please to avoid any potential anger.

His knuckles ached. His chest felt like being constricted as strained, shaky breaths escaped his clattering mouth. He could feel how the oil between his joints dripped through and spilled upon his fingertips, staining his face whenever he would take momentum and shoot his fist towards the thing he attacked. But now, it took more effort to even bring his fist to move, and the thuds caused by the impact weren’t as strong as before.

He grew tired.

Exhaustion swept over him and weighed him down.

Just like the slowly creeping feeling that he might do something so terribly wrong that he could never take back no matter how much he tried.

And now, he doesn’t know anymore.

He braced his hands against the ground as he straightened his back. He took a closer look.

His blurry vision only revealed a shadowy frame that laid underneath him. Lifelessly. Like a corpse whose chest cage was ripped open, turned into a mere pile of wires and an empty metal shell.

It was his brother.

His brother Moondrop.

And now, his brother doesn’t even live anymore.

He is dead.

He is fully gone.

But why does he still haunt him, why is he still stuck in his mind?

His fingers curled inward his palm. They pressed against the ground.

DOES NOTHING WORK?

IS EVERYTHING HE DOES USELESS?

His head sagged down. Those thoughts tormented him. It felt like someone screamed directly into his ear, the voices just there to make his life a LIVING hell growing so loud that they broke through the bounds of his internal world and entered the outside one.

WHY DIDN'T THEY TURN QUIETER ALTHOUGH HIS BROTHER WAS DEAD?

Maybe he needs to do more? Maybe more efforts?

Maybe beat him even more until his face is unrecognizable?

Sundrop choked on his sobs. His fingertips roamed the floor until they stumbled upon a barrel.

He snatched it as if his life depended on it.

Just do it.

Hit him.

Hit him until he is only a bloody pulp.

DO IT, COWARD.

And Sundrop tried. He lifted his arm, the barrel tightly held in his hand, just wanting to go through the motion to finally escape, to finally have this relief and peace he has been looking for his entire life.

But he stopped.

Because something so... warm suddenly entered the room. As if the sun's warm rays poured over him and engulfed him.

Sundrop dragged his gaze up.

He was blinded by a light from which a person split apart. A hand was stretched out in front of him. Hesitantly, he looked from the person to the hand - The oily tears glimmering in his eyes telling the tale of suffering and hopelessness that defined his whole existence.

But maybe, this... person can rescue him. Save him.

Maybe, he is his savior.

Sundrop laid his hand in his. He looked up again.

The outlines of the person got clearer.

"You've suffered enough, Sun. It's time to go to your new home."

They had... rays.

[separatist-apologist]

Traitors Never Win

Summary: When Feyre Archeron's father promises she'll marry notorious crime boss Rhysand Moreno, Feyre will do anything to get out of the arrangement…including framing him for murder.

Rhysand isn't about to let her go so easily.

Read on AO3

[Five Years Earlier]:

Feyre stood over the lifeless body of her father, her hands coated in sticky blood. Beside her, an aluminum bat lay bloodied on the floor, tossed like trash mere feet from where her father’s body lay. She had killed him in a fit of fury, her patience finally shredded beyond her control. Feyre, like her sisters, was merely a pawn in her fathers criminal enterprise.

The problem was, besides the murder, that she knew he’d loved her in his way.  There was no escaping marriage for a woman like her, especially now that she was eighteen. And still, as she stared down at the cooling corpse at her feet, Feyre couldn’t bring herself to regret her actions.

She wasn’t going to marry Rhysand Moreno. 

Feyre had never met him, of course—but she’d heard stories. Ruthless and cold, he headed up the rival crime family in the city and was the reason they were in this mess to begin with. Her father had been losing territory for a solid decade, his guys scooped up by cops and jailed. They ratted each other out, damaging the once solid Archeron Family until there was little left. 

Nesta should have gone first, Feyre thought with just a touch of frustration. Then Elain. Her sisters were older than her and yet when Rhysand came, he’d came looking for her. He’d promised safety—a merger, of sorts, with Feyre at the center of it all.

So long as she was a dutiful wife and did as she was told, the rest of her family would be cared for. Feyre intended to go through with it…and then tonight had happened. Her father had called her in to discuss the upcoming wedding and what was expected of her and Feyre…just…snapped. Picked up the bat her father kept beside his desk and took a vicious swing. She could have stopped there, but a lifetime’s worth of rage poured out of her until her father was the beaten, bloodied pulp now laying before her. Feyre kept waiting for fear or regret to creep in, but all she really felt was numb. 

And maybe the smallest sense of satisfaction.

It was all over now. Somehow, Feyre doubted Rhysand’s affection extended behind a jail cell. She’d gotten the freedom she’d been praying for every night, though not the way she’d imagined it. Feyre reached into her pocket for her cell phone, ears ringing loudly. She was going to call the police, confess to everything, and take responsibility for her actions.

A hand slapped her phone to the ground.

“Don’t you dare,” Nesta hissed. When had she come into the room? Both of her sisters were there, staring down at their father with a mixture of expressions. Elain stood in the doorway perhaps to not bloody the pretty white flats on her feet, her hand pressed against her lips. Nesta was beside Feyre, arms crossed over her chest, her own expression impassive.

“I need to tell the police—”

“You need to lie,” Elain interrupted, her voice cracking beneath the stress. 

“This looks like a hit,” Nesta added, cocking her head to the side to really examine the scene. 

“Don’t touch anything,” Elain warned, carefully stepping into the room. She was so out of place in her pretty yellow sundress and perfectly curled hair. Daddy’s princess—he would never have forced Elain to marry someone like Rhysand. 

That knowledge had once made Feyre angry, but not anymore. Elain didn’t deserve worse than Feyre simply for being their father’s favorite. Nor did she deserve worse because she was the youngest and easiest to forget. 

“We’ll say we came home and he was like this,” Nesta told Feyre, turning to face her fully. “We need the same story. We came home, he was already dead, and you panicked until I got here. You’re in shock. The police will go through his records—”

“Oh, god,” Elain said, carefully stepping through the room to make their way toward their fathers desk. Without getting a drop of blood on her clothes, Elain sat in their fathers high back, leather chair, and turned on his computer. They all knew how to delete things that no one should know—no one should see—before the cops found it all.

“Leave it!” Nesta barked, the family lawyer. “Don’t delete anything. They’ll find the marriage contract between Feyre and Rhysand.”

“Why would we want that?” Elain demanded, eyes too glassy to make her irritation sharp. 

“Because Feyre is going to tell them the same thing. She’s going to tell them she was being trafficked into an unwanted marriage and she’s going to say she told father so. That he’d finally relented and agreed to call it off. That Rhysand came here and killed him for it.”

“You’re crazy,” Feyre whispered, her voice shaky. “You want to blame this on Rhysand?”

“Two birds, one stone,” Nesta replied crisply. “Men like Rhysand expect contracts to be honored no matter what. Killing father isn’t going to save Feyre…but sicking the feds after him might. If they decide to pin this on him, we can forget he ever existed.”

“You think he’ll let her go that easily?”

Nesta shrugged. “I guess we’ll find out. Now. Do we all understand the roles we’re about to play?”

Elain’s eyes were already watering. She’d be full on sobbing by the time the police arrived. Elain was so good at playing on people’s sympathies. Beautiful and sweet to the point that most people assumed her to be guileless, she’d be the first person the police met. Then Feyre, who would show them the body while Nesta watched, the careful matriarch of their family. 

Everything was a blur in the aftermath. Feyre heard herself choking back a sob as she explained the scene to the 911 operator while Elain gave Feyre a thumbs up for encouragement. They didn’t need to speak to one another when the police arrived. Elain was sobbing while Nesta paced and Feyre just stood there, pale and blank. They could hear the jokes about their family on the lawn and endured the jabs about their father’s profession.

They were excluded given none of them worked for him. And still, Feyre saw even Elain clenching her fists when yet another remark went flying, earning the laughter of the cops tramping all over the scene. Everyone was so desperate to find some juicy detail that they didn’t seem to mind that they were contaminating the scene. And by the time the feds arrived and forced the local cops out, Feyre knew they wouldn’t be able to tell who had picked up that bat and swung. At least six different officers had touched it by then, and she’d heard a couple of them taking pictures with her fathers dead body.

She wished Rhysand had committed this crime, if only to see him come back and kill everyone making jokes, too. That was a dangerous thing to wish, though. It meant the man she was so close to escaping could just saunter back into her life and do her a favor…for a price, of course. 

“Feyre?” A masculine voice pulled her from her thoughts. Looking up from her spot between her sisters on the front porch steps, Feyre found herself looking at a pair of federal agents wearing badges—Rosewood and Vanserra. 

“She’s not talking without her lawyer present,” Nesta said before Feyre could get a word out, causing the man with the long, auburn hair pulled into a ponytail to smile, though he tried to smother it quickly. He looked like a man who’d seen at least some action if the trio of brutal scars running down one side of his face was any indication. Handsome,  too, for a cop—beautiful, really, in the same way Elain was.

Maybe that was why her older sister was watching this man shyly. Or maybe it was merely another act Elain put on to make people think she was helpless so they’d want to protect her. 

The other man had shorter, blonder hair and a pair of pine green eyes currently burning a hole through Feyre’s skull. Unlike his smiling partner, he seemed to be taking the entire thing seriously.

Extending his hand, he said, “Tamlin Rosewood. I’ve got some questions for you, Miss Archeron—”

“She’s not talking without her lawyer,” Nesta repeated.

“I suppose that's you?” Vanserra asked in a voice far deeper and richer than she’d expected. 

“For now,” Nesta replied. Tamlin sighed, clearly frustrated.

“Look…you don’t have to say anything. Just listen. We’ve got a hit in there and a man we’ve never been able to get anything on.”

“She’s not helping you with your investigation,” Nesta spat.

Tamlin ignored her. “I want to put the three of you in witness protection,” he said, catching them all by surprise. “Just until we’ve got enough on Rhysand. And I want you to testify,” Tamlin added, turning to look at Feyre again. “Put that fucker behind bars for good.”

“Witness protection?” Elain asked, eyes bouncing from Vanserra to Tamlin. 

“It’s not forever,” Vanserra told her, sucked in just like every other man on the planet. Feyre almost felt bad for him. Almost. If he liked Elain, he’d want her to be safe and that was enough for Feyre at the moment. 

“I’ll do whatever you need me to,” Feyre said before Nesta could interrupt again. That was true. She wanted to live her life without the threat of Rhysand hanging over her head. They’d start over somewhere new, just until Rhysand was ready to go on trial for a crime he hadn’t committed. Feyre would lie and say the murder was over her refusal to get married and then she’d come home if she wanted.

Or maybe she’d stay wherever they sent her. She was young, just eighteen, and figured she had more than enough time. How long could it possibly take. A year? Two? 

“We want to put the three of you in a hotel tonight,” Vanserra told them earnestly, careful to look at the three of them rather than just Elain. “We’ll have more details for you in the morning. Right now, I just need you to pack up your things. Whatever you want to take with you…there’s time.”

“We’ll be right outside,” Tamlin added, still looking wholly at Feyre. “Take your time.”

It wasn’t forever. 

And so they stood up and went back inside.

[Present Day]:

“Good morning, Feyre,” Tamlin said with an easy smile, popping his head through the front door. Feyre, paint stained and still a little sunburned from the day before, grinned when she saw him. 

“Hey Tam,” she replied, plunking a paintbrush into a coffee cup filled with murky brown water. “You’re back!”

“If I ask to come out too often, I get questioned,” Tamlin admitted, ducking inside her two bedroom townhouse sheepishly. “Plus every form needs to be filled out in triplicate…”

“What do you tell them?” she asked, rising from her chair at the dining table. 

“That there are things I need to ask you that can’t be asked over the phone,” he replied, eyes flashing ever so slightly. 

“That’s all you tell them?” she teased.

Tamlin reached her, running his fingers over her bare, freckled arm. “If I told them that being away from you for months at a time was driving me crazy, they’d assign another agent and move you somewhere I’d never see you again.”

“And we can’t have that, now can we?” she said, leaning up on her tiptoes for a kiss. Feyre couldn’t remember when this had started. Sometime between moving in and the intense loneliness that sometimes overtook her, Tamlin had become someone she genuinely cared about. Someone she thought she could love if they were ever in the same place longer than a weekend. She knew Tamlin’s time was limited, which was why the pair hastily shed their clothes, mouths frantic as he managed to get her upstairs to the bedroom. Tamlin was strong, hoisting her up in his arms and carrying her up the stairs and Feyre had always liked that about him.

He had become her savior, somehow. The man who’d showed up right when she needed him. Who’d protected her from a monster that was still hunting her—trying to enforce a contract she’d never agreed to and never signed. She and her sisters were scattered, though Feyre knew that Nesta was somewhere in the south and Elain had ended up in the midwest. Feyre was in Portland working as an art teacher at a local elementary school and teaching paint classes for date nights and bachelorette parties in her spare time.

In the years since her fathers murder, she’d graduated college and settled into her life. She had a cat Bryaxis and her neighbors all knew her by name. Not Feyre, of course—they called her Sarah. Which was, maybe, why being with Tamlin felt so good. He knew who she was, could call her by her real name and tell her about the life she missed. Tamlin gave her information about her sisters in between all the sex, and the updates on her fathers case that Feyre was always desperate to hear.

After all. She’d killed her father and the only people who knew were her, her sisters…and probably Rhysand at this point. He must have figured it out—the thought gnawed at her. Laying naked in bed beside Tamlin, Feyre asked, “How are things going?”

Tamlin shrugged, his expression tightening. “I can’t say much…but this is almost over. You’ll be able to leave soon if you want.”

“And if I don’t?” she questioned, kissing the tips of his fingers. 

“I was thinking I could request a new post,” Tamlin said, rolling on his side to look at her. “If that was something you wanted.”

Was it? “We can talk about it,” Feyre said with a smile, delighted when he pulled the blankets up over their head for another round. They stayed in bed for the majority of the day, ordering food to the door once to eat it half dressed while they talked. Feyre talked and talked about everything, trying to fill the silence Tamlin so often left behind. He just never had much to say, the one thing that kept Feyre from truly jumping into whatever was happening with them. 

She didn’t know if she wanted a lifetime of this. Maybe it was just being young and inexperienced talking…maybe relationships were a give and take. Tamlin had saved her and she cared about him, but it would have been nice sometimes to hear him talk about what he even liked about her. Feyre was always too afraid to ask—not since she’d once mentioned he never paid her compliments and he’d responded awkwardly by telling her that her hair looked clean.

It was possible that Tamlin’s reasons made sense to him, but were difficult to vocalize. She just wanted a little time to think about it—and she knew she’d get it that next morning.

“Another agent will be coming by soon,” Tamlin told her over breakfast, redressed in his suit. “Just to give you the rundown on what’s happening. I’m going to put in a request for vacation the week before we fly you back so I can help you get ready.”

“So this is definitely happening?” Feyre asked, suddenly too nervous to eat. 

Tamlin nodded, raising his coffee mug to his swollen lips. “The last of our evidence was sent to a federal prosecutor. Now we just wait and see…I’m not going to lie to you. You’re our most solid piece of evidence and the whole case hinges on your testimony.”

Feyre offered him a pretty smile. “No pressure, then.”

“No pressure at all,” Tamlin replied, offering her a smile that didn’t quite meet his eyes. 

“I won’t let you down, Tam,” she promised, reaching over the table to take his hand in hers. “We’re going to put him away.”

“I know he’s plotting,” Tamlin murmured, pulling his hand out of Feyre’s grip. “I can feel it. Whatever happens next, he’ll have a response for it. I just hope we’re ready.”

“We are,” Feyre assured him. She believed that, too—long after Tamlin had left, Feyre was bolstered by his visit. It wasn’t just the sex, but the knowledge he’d given her. How long did she have, really? Six months? A year, tops? Having spent her life watching the feds dog her fathers footsteps, she knew they’d be foaming at the mouth to take down another mobster. They’d want an airtight case to make punishment inescapable, which meant they’d be more cautious before laying down charges. Feyre could survive that. She could make it through one last Portland winter before finally returning home as herself. No more Sarah, no more hiding, no more wondering what her would-be husband was doing, planning, plotting. 

He’d spend the rest of his life reflecting on the fact that he’d been outsmarted by the woman he’d once thought to trap. Feyre hoped it rotted him from the inside out, left him festering and hollow. All that money and power and for what?

He still couldn’t beat Feyre Archeron.

RHYS:

The hotel door opened quietly, flooding light from the hall into the tiny, smoke scented room. Rhys didn’t move from his chair, still shrouded in darkness. He listened as the lock clicked and the chain slid into place, trapping the pair of them inside. He held his breath and waited for the man to step into the main room and hit the switch.

“You.”

Rhys smiled, looking up at Tamlin Rosewood. He was mere seconds from knowing where Tamlin had come from and finally putting the nightmare he’d been living to rest. Slowly, Tamlin set his carry on to the green carpeted floor before raising his hands.

He’d seen the gun in Rhys’s, pointed directly at his center. Did he realize this was the end for him? That he’d never get to say goodbye to the people he loved? He must have—there was a grimness to his expression that Rhys would be thinking about for years to come. 

“Me,” Rhys replied, rising slowly from the rickety chair in the corner of the room. “You seem surprised.”

“You’re being monitored,” Tamlin replied flatly. That was the thing about federal agents—they lacked imagination. Truthfully, they were too in love with the rules that it was embarrassingly easy to get around them. Rhysand was being followed all day, every day. His calls monitored, women wearing wires thrown in front of him hoping he’d divulge a few secrets for a little pussy.

Rhys was a faithful man. That was the first thing Tamlin never figured out about him. The man was about to learn, though.

“Am I?” Rhys questioned, amused by his words. “I had an easy time getting through the airport.”

“I’m not going to tell you where Feyre is,” Tamlin said, daring to speak her name. All Rhys’s amusement evaporated, replaced with burning hot rage. 

“I don’t need you to tell me anything about her,” Rhys replied casually, holding Tamlin’s stare. “Just one thing about you.” 

“What?”

“Did you fuck my wife?”

Tamlin blinked, uncertainty sliding over his features. Sweet little Feyre—his murderous little love. She’d been keeping so many secrets since she’d left and it wasn’t surprising she’d keep this one, too. He could forgive her for having Tamlin. He imagined she was lonely and scared. Maybe she thought she needed to keep the agent placated so he didn’t realize the truth everyone else could so plainly see. Or maybe she was desperate and Tamlin was available. Rhys didn’t like that last option, though he conceded it was possible she merely wanted someone around and would settle for the human equivalent of drywall.

“Excuse me?” Tamlin asked, lips parted with surprise. 

“Did. You. Fuck. My. Wife?” Rhys enunciated each word slowly, forgetting that Tamlin wasn’t just terribly dull, but also impossibly stupid, too. 

“She’s—she’s not your wife—” Tamlin spluttered, his words cut off but the ringing shot of a bullet. Rhys could have made it quick, ending Tamlin before he even knew what happened. That kind of peace was undeserved by the man hunting him…by the man who’d spent the weekend defiling Rhys’s wife. He shot Tamlin in the chest just so Tamlin would be forced to spend his final, terrifying moments with Rhys.

There would be no peace. Not in this life and not in the next. Rhys walked over to Tamlin, ignoring the gasps coming from purple lips. “She is my wife,” Rhys whispered, not caring that it wasn’t technically true. “And she killed her father that night. This has been a little game between us, but it’s over now.”

Tamlin’s last expression was one of horror before it flattened entirely. One last exhale that Rhys breathed in, just in case Tamlin’s soul thought he could escape. It was only then that Rhys stood and tucked his weapon into his holster beneath his jacket. 

Rhys spent a minute rifling through Tamlin’s things. He quickly recorded Feyre’s phone number in his, giddy at the thought of having it at all. He found Tamlin’s last few locations on his phone, including a residential home in Portland, Oregon. 

Sloppy, Rhys thought, though he already knew where she was. Killing Tamlin was merely a formality Rhys had always planned to carry out. He’d accelerated that plan when he’d learned Tamlin was fucking Feyre, which, he could admit, sent him into a jealous spiral. He’d imagined she was living much like he was—like a fucking monk.

That ended now, though. 

What Rhys really needed was the badge and gun in Tamlin’s pocket. He had everything he needed beyond that. The one saving grace between himself and Feyre was the fact they’d never met one another. She’d been merely a picture on his screen when her father came begging for help. One of his daughters to get the debtors off his tail before they killed him. His crumbling empire, united through one woman.

He’d been offered the eldest first before the reluctant middle, but neither were of any interest to Rhys. And the third might not have either had it not been for her eyes. He could still remember the sight of her, smiling like a cat holding a mouse. A beautiful woman—the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, if he was honest—with a secret. Something dark, something scary.

It had been a hunch back then, proven right when the feds came knocking on his door. Archeron was dead, bludgeoned with his own baseball bat. And pretty little Feyre Archeron swore it was him. Rhys knew then he’d been right about her, though she’d vanished into thin air by the time he managed to steal away to see her. 

So began a five year chase. Feyre was smart, of course, but so was he. Tracking her down began by finding her sisters first. Nesta Archeron was holed up in some swampy Georgia town which made her the easier of the three to find. And Nesta, for all her brains, routinely emailed her younger sister Elain.

Elain was harder to pin down. Living in Chicago, she had a personal watchdog in the form of Agent Vanserra, who was protected by his Senator brother. Elain, though, had a burner phone the agent didn’t know about—and on that phone she texted Feyre. Finding that link had taken Rhys the better part of three years. 

Tracking her to Portland took another year, though it shouldn’t have. That was the year the feds ramped up how hard they surveilled him, and every electronic he owned ended up being traced and tapped. Let them think he didn’t care about her. Let them never see Rhys search for her, hear him speak of her. 

It was Tamlin who fucked it all up. He’d let it slip to Vanserra, unaware Rhys was just as capable of tapping a phone. I was with Feyre this weekend. Hearing those words filled Rhys with a rage he still struggled to contain. Feyre was supposed to be with him—and instead, she was spending time with his greatest enemy. 

It was over now. As far as the FBI knew, Rhys was at home, pacing his study and raging about a deal gone wrong. And by the time anyone realized the truth of things, Feyre would be his wife in the ways that mattered to the federal government, and no longer able to lie under oath. Rhys pulled out his phone and sent one message to two contacts. 

Lock it down. 

And then he was off.

Rhys stepped onto a weed freckled lawn a little after nine in the morning. An overgrown bush had taken over the paved path up the sidewalk, but Rhys didn’t mind getting his shoes a little muddy. Among the row of townhouses, this one had a bright purple door and a half dead fern on the little porch.

Charming. 

He knocked, eyes obscured behind a pair of mirrored shades. Behind the door, Rhys heard the sound of thudding feet on stairs before the door opened and there she was. Her chestnut hair was pulled into a long braid draped over an exposed, freckled shoulder. She had a smudge of red paint on her cheek and a splatter of freckles along the bridge of her nose.

And those mischievous, dark blue eyes. 

“Sarah?” he asked, certain he’d blow his cover if he called her Feyre. Rhys flashed the badge at her, assuming she wasn’t going to take it from him and scrutinize. 

She rolled her eyes. “What can I do for you…?”

He wasn’t going to lie about his name. “Rhys,” he replied with a lopsided grin. “They should have told you about me.”

“Yeah, Tamlin did. Come inside, then, before the neighbors start wondering why there’s a cop on my doorstep.”

He did look like a cop, but that was the point. He wanted her to see him as professional before she saw him as himself. 

“Unfortunate name,” she called over her shoulder as Rhys stepped inside. Unfortunate—

“Oh,” he said with a weak laugh. “Yeah. My mom was Welsh, though, so I come by the name naturally. Belonged to my grandpa.” Why was he telling her this? Stop talking. 

“Oh yeah? Better than me—my mom found it in some fairytale she’d read as a child. Feyre,” she muttered as she led him into the main artery of her home. 

“It’s a beautiful name,” Rhys heard himself saying. She glanced up at him, brow furrowed and slowly—so, so slowly—Rhys slid his sunglasses over her eyes to rest atop his head. This was the moment. Would he hold her hostage, or would she accept this lie? 

There was no recognition on her face. She didn’t know. Rhys had always wondered how much her father told her—how much she’d known about him before the murder. And after, he could never be sure if someone had shown her pictures. They hadn’t. Feyre had only her imagination to go on.

Good. 

“Anyway, are you staying here?” 

Rhys blinked, his plans shifting once again. “Yes. Until the indictment,” he lied, because how would she know, anyway? Her eyes brightened.

“They charged him?”

Rhys smiled. “It’s almost over. Just three months and I’ll be flying you back home and you’ll be free of all this.”

Her smile seemed to split her face. “Oh my god. I can see my sisters again.”

Potentially—if Cassian and Azriel managed to keep them unaware and out of the way he supposed. Again, they could work this all out later. 

“Well,” Feyre said, taking a deep breath of air. “Let me show you to your room, then.”

Rhys smiled back. “Lead the way.”

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 35 : protective instinct

Monkey King is a protective dad

The moon was rising above the night sky, illuminating the somber surroundings. The pilgrims were sleeping peacefully, blanketed by the sea of stars. Sanzang was curled in his wool blanket like a caterpillar in its cocoon. Bajie was openly snoring, spread on the floor like a starfish. Wujing was sleeping on his back, arms resting on his chest like a dignified mummy. And Ao Lie slept in his horse form, nestled in the soft grass.

Wukong looked down at the lil guy sleeping near him. Macaque was curled around his bud, almost hiding it in his fur. Wukong found it really adorable. He was the only one not sleeping, he couldn't even if he wanted to really. Everytime he closed his eyes, he felt this inexplicable fear rise inside of him. It was like if he didn't watch over the bud, something terrible would happen to it.

It's not like he didn't trust Macaque. Even if the lil guy didn't fight that often, he wasn't weak by any means. Just the other day he kicked a demon ass to the moon and beyond only because they dared to glare the bud. Wukong didn't even have the time to fight the demon, for Macaque had already beaten it to a bloody pulp. It was admittedly the most attractive thing Wukong ever saw.

But even if he knew Macaque could kick asses, he was still worried. It wasn't something he could control. It was like a deep seated instinct which resurfaced despite him.

It's been a while since he slept because of this.

The great sage returned to his weaving. He was making a mini tiger skirt for the baby, or a tiger diaper really, so the infant could match Macaque and him. It was his pastime to make different things for the baby. He already made toys, clothes and he planned to make mini chiffon dolls of the pilgrims. Wukong had never thought he would be so good with needle work, but he found he quite liked it, it was soothing.

Wukong had to admit that since the bud was birthed, he didn't do much courting. It's not like he didn't want to. But he was so focused on making sure that the baby would be correctly welcomed and that Macaque had everything he wanted. Courting took a backseat.

“Wukong ?” The great sage flinched and turned towards Macaque. The lil guy rubbed his eyes and looked up at the golden-furred monkey with inquiry. “You're not asleep?”

“Huh, Noo? Someone needs to keep watch.” Awkwardly chuckled Wukong. Macaque raised a skeptical eyebrow and sighed fondly.

“Wanna, huh, shrink and sleep with me?” Wukong fluffed up at the proposition, he fiddled with his fingers before putting his needlework aside and shrunk down.

The lil Monkey King nervously approached Macaque. The lil guy patted the other side of the bud. Wukong laid down and curled there, circling the bud. The folded flower was warm. Wukong felt his heart thump in excitement.

“Thanks… You know for doing so much.” Mumbled Macaque, Wukong looked at him and was surprised to see a blush dust his cheeks.

“No problem.” Replied Wukong.

Both monkeys laid in silence, encircling the bud with warmth. Wukong loved the smell of the flower. The peach blossom had the sweetest scent. Then suddenly, they both heard a lil thump. They stared at the bud amazed, and felt lil kicks under the soft petals.

Wukong nuzzled against the bud, tears nipping at his eyes.

“They never did that before.” Mumbled Macaque. “Guess they like you.”

They spend the rest of the night whispering to each other, proposing names for the baby.

They fell asleep in the dead of the night, tails weaved together, both nuzzling the bud.

+ cut scenes

Sanzang *after waking up* : awww, they cuddle together 🥰

Bajie : they should get married already 🙄

 

Wukong *choosing name* : What about Sun Wukong Jr? ☺️

Macaque :..... No 😅

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[slytherinsrule89]

Hello! How are you?

Would you comfortable writting something about the reader having autism and how they would be with her?

Or maybe like a story when they stand up for reader (either because someone makes fun of their stims or something like that)

Thank you 🖤

Okay, I had to do a bit of research because I wanted it to be accurate enough that it actually correlates to autism so I hope I did well, you can correct me on anything if need be :)

Tom

Tom had noticed that you had been stressed lately and was making sure that you had some cool downtime. Right now you two were resting in the common room working on some homework. But it was quickly that you had started stimming in order to calm your body down. Tom had noticed you rocking a bit back and forth, along with finger flicking. He was smart and knew exactly what was happening.But what he also noticed was a few other students doing those same motions in a mocking way. Obviously they hadn’t seen the look on Tom's face yet because if they had, they’d be sure to run out of there quickly. Not wanting you to see what they were doing he calmly took you back to his dorm without a word, setting you on the bed and putting your books on his bed so you could relax in the change of environment. The next morning in the Great Hall three students were presumed missing. Coincidentally the three that were mocking you just yesterday

Blaise

Blaise was always good with helping you with things like stimming when you were overstimulated or anxious. Though one thing that he did notice was the looks people had given you when those stims happened. They’d either be giggling and whispering to each other or even openly mocking the moves that you do. Blaise hated it and was willing to do anything to stop it. This particular time you two were sitting in class. Unfortunately for you the professor had stepped out and the students started getting rowdy. The noise got to be too much and you had started stimming. Your hand was flapping, body tense. Blaise who was sitting next to you noticed quickly and went to comfort you. However, he was cut off when he noticed some boys flapping their hands mockingly and laughing. It didn’t last long though as Blaise was quick to stand up and storm to them. It wasn’t often that people could piss off Blaise so the boys shut up and sat down right away, after Blaise made it clear that if he saw it again it wouldn’t end well.

Theo

As we all know Theo has had his fair share in fights. So the second he saw anyone making fun of you or mentioning it in that condescending tone, he’d be in action. It had just happened not too long ago while you two were taking a walk and your stimming had started and just as he was going to sit down with you to calm you down he saw a small group of students giggling and whispering as they pointed at you. And to keep it short, Theo was furious. But there was no way that he was going to fight someone in front of you. So logically he kept by your side for the rest of the day, noting anyone else who had made fun of you. By the end of the day there were about 5 different students beaten and bruised up all laying in the hospital wing. They wouldn’t say who did it, but by your boyfriends bloodied and beaten up knuckles you could tell what happened. You just didn’t know why. Theo kept refusing to tell you mainly because he didn’t want your feelings to be hurt when he did so he simply said, “Nothing for you to worry about cara mia.”

Mattheo

Mattheo was resting with you on his chest. You two had been in class just earlier but were excused when you had been overstimulated and started stimming. The professors had understood your diagnosis and also knew that Mattheo was practically the only one who knew how to calm you down properly and he was also the only one you'd let calm you down as well. When he saw a few other students snickering to each other he was already about to beat them to a bloody pulp right there. And with the look on his face anyone could tell he’d do it too. That look was exactly what had stopped the students giggling about you as they went completely silent knowing it was a death wish to get on his bad side. Mattheo was calm now as you laid on his chest, headphones on to block out noise, and your eyes closed peacefully. He had always been glad that he was your safe spot. No matter what you’d always come to him for anything. It was a nice change of things for him and he couldn’t be happier about it.

Enzo

Although Enzo was often seen as kind or innocent he could really be the opposite most times. But when he saw people making fun of your stimming and small habits he was livid. He went straight up to them telling them off in front of everyone that gathered around them. When he walked back and didn’t see you he quickly ran off to his dorm knowing you’d be there. Opening the door he saw you rocking back and forth with noise canceling headphones on. Enzo knew that you were probably even more overwhelmed from the yelling and all the gathering people and felt a bit bad. He walked over though, making his presence known to you so that he didn’t frighten you more and sat down beside you. Making sure that you were alright if he touched you first, he then carefully brought you into his lap and kissed the top of your head. After a while of him rocking you back and forth like you had been doing before you ended up falling asleep right in his lap.

I hope you enjoy 😊

[emisprocrastinatingbywriting]

Alone and Forsaken

Chapter 10 Summary:

Joel's body has become depleted from countless bouts of torture and violence. His fellow prisoner tries to encourage him but the situation continues to deteriorate until he meets someone new in the arena. Meanwhile, the bodies have been piling up as you hunt for Joel. After witnessing a familiar face being beaten to a bloody pulp, will you risk your life to save them or focus on your own problems?

Warnings: Past Trauma, Violence Inflicted on and by Joel and Reader, Threats, Angst, Joel Needs a FAT Hug, Paul Needs to Die, Mention of SA (not on reader or Joel), Cooper also probably needs a hug, Joel misses reader and reader is completely feral.

A/N:

Welcome back y'all. I said I was going to be dropping soon and I meant that shit!

This chapter has a lot of violence towards literally all of the characters we love dearly (sorry lol). Additionally, Joel gets a look in a darker side of the camp. This side of the camp is v gross, the implication being that omegas are SA-ed there. If this is a trigger for you, stay away friend! Keep yourself safe and maybe check in the chapters to come, or message me and I can spark-notes it for ya. As always, keep yourselves safe.

Chapter 10/20

Chapter 9: The Oaf, The Matriarch & The Reunion

Joel didn’t know how many days had passed in this hellhole. Every moment blurred together in an endless cycle of cruelty and pain. His body was depleted, starved despite the small bits of food that Jake shared and bullied him into eating. Joel tried to refuse but the younger man was persistent and badgered him until he finally relented. He slept at times but it was never peaceful for long with the guards coming to drag him back to the arena every time he managed to get comfortable. 

Three times they had thrown him down that hole and three times he had escaped by the skin of his teeth. Joel wasn’t sure if a fourth time was in his wheelhouse. He was too old and too tired to keep getting tossed around. After he had ripped through most of their prisoners in the first two rounds, the last time he had been faced with nothing but riled up clickers. That trip was too close. One had almost got him but Joel barely managed to slip out of its grasp. 

If they took him down there again, if Joel was forced into another round of mindless violence, he couldn’t survive it. Not with the way his back was blackened from the harsh landings. His knuckles were busted from the constant fighting and bled anytime he moved a finger. Not to mention the fact that his pulsing headache had slowly shifted into an ear splitting migraine that warped the corners of his vision. 

Worst of all was the isolation. Jake was right across from him and Cooper came every so often but their presence didn’t help. Isolation had been nothing to him at one point in life but it now grated on him. It wasn’t just anyone his heart called for, it was you. He had heard in some health class long ago that a bond between mates linked people together forever. If the bonded pair were to ever part, it would send both parties into a spiral. 

Joel remembered how he had scoffed at that, making all of his friends around him crack up as the teacher turned from her place at the board to scold him. The notion that a grown man needed anyone other than himself seemed absolutely ridiculous at the time but as he sat alone in his cell, he understood it to be true. He was past the point of desperation, allowing himself to become cloaked in gloom. It felt like all of the safety pins that had held him together for years were being pulled out one by one as time passed. 

The omega across from Joel sensed it, as did his mate. Or maybe they smelled the putrid stench wafting from his pores. The stench of an alpha separated from his mate was unmistakable and it overpowered any other smell in the room. They tried to encourage him, or at least Jake did. Mostly Cooper just avoided eye contact and gave him an awkward thumbs up anytime his mate elbowed him in the ribs. Their support was more compassionate than he deserved and he tried to appreciate it but it was also futile. 

The bond he shared with you was betraying him, forcing him into a state that he had never been in. After Sarah died, he tried to follow her into the abyss and he failed. Joel had the scar across his nose to prove it. With no other choice, he had kept on living in spite of himself. Joel numbed the pain with pills, liquor and violence, hoping that one of his vices would eventually take him out. 

Later on, when Ellie died, his survival served as a punishment for his inability to do the one thing he was created to do. The grief he felt began to hold a different meaning after Ellie’s death. Joel had to live, it was what he deserved for being such a failure. For four years he was alone and miserable, locked away in a prison of his own creation for his downfalls. 

Both times that Joel had been separated from those he loved was brutal but this was different somehow. In between his second and third round in the arena, Joel slowly became catatonic. He had given up on trying to escape. It all seemed so pointless if you were somewhere safe. All he did in the hours he was awake was think of you while he laid motionless in his bunk. 

The curls on the back of head were matted but he let them be. The last set of hands to run themselves through his locks were yours and he wanted to keep it that way. He knew it was stupid but so was the fact that Joel had lived 56 years without a mate only to lose her almost immediately. How much time could he have had if Paul hadn’t found his cabin? 

“C’mon man. You can’t just roll over and die. Talk to me at least. We could try to get out of here. We could go find her! Please,” Jake called. 

Joel remained still in his bunk, facing the wall with a tensed jaw. He knew it was childish to ignore his fellow inmate and pretend to be asleep but he couldn’t help it. How could Joel possibly escape from this place? And if he did, what was the point? If you truly had escaped Paul and found your way to somewhere safe, he couldn’t possibly chase after you. He knew that they would just follow him, capturing you immediately because of him. Joel couldn’t have that. 

Better he die here, lonely and broken, just as he was before he met you. It was almost poetic. A tragic lead doomed to repeat the same cycle over and over again. Joel would find a reason to live and dilute himself into thinking it could last forever, only for it to be torn from him in the cruelest of ways each time. Rinse and repeat. Love and then grief. He was exhausted by it. 

“She’s still alive, you could see her again. Don’t you want that?,” the omega begged. 

What a stupid question. Seeing you again was the only thing in the world Joel wanted. If he had a time machine, he would go back to your first encounter and confess his love immediately so that he could have more time at your side. Joel remembered trying to keep his distance. He wanted to keep you safe from the mess that inevitably came with loving a man like him. The chivalric restraint all seemed so stupid from behind bars. That time had been wasted and now it was the only time with you he would ever spend. 

It was funny how he did that. Everytime Joel loved someone, he took the time with them for granted. The days spent with you had seemed like they would last for eternity, spanning on and on until the sun eventually imploded or the oceans dried up. Maybe that was what it meant to be human, to have the arrogance to believe that life would be that kind to you. To predispose your own destiny without taking the cruelty of the world into account. 

A drawn out sight came from the other side of the room before Jake piped up again

“Christ’s sake, okay listen up you dumbass.”

The harshness in Jake’s tone got his attention. It had been nothing but endless encouragement from him and Joel found himself interested in what he had to say. 

“I know how it feels to be without your person, alright? Cooper and Allie were gone, I had no idea where he was or if my daughter was alive. So I fucking get it, but you can’t just curl up and die! Do you think for a second that she would want that?!” 

Joel turned in his bunk and faced him. His gaze was heavy. He knew that the younger man didn’t deserve the weight of it but he couldn’t help it. A darkness like he had never felt before was suffocating him and a glare was the best he could do. 

“She would kick your ass for even thinking about giving up. And don’t you dare say that she wouldn’t, because I know my best friend,” he snapped.

Joel huffed. It wasn’t a full laugh but it was something and Jake seemed satisfied by it, sitting back on his bed as his eyes raked over Joel. 

Joel’s eyes turned glossy and the mark on his neck throbbed. It felt wrong for the eyes on him to be anyone’s except yours and suddenly his skin felt itchy. He knew that your best friend didn’t mean anything bad by it, he was just trying to make sure that Joel survived. But the distance between the two of you was wearing on the alpha and the attention of anyone else, innocent or not, was almost unbearable. 

“I can’t,” Joel mumbled. 

An empathetic noise came from Jake and he stood, walking to the edge of his cell before he spoke again. 

“There really isn’t any can or cannot with this. It’s either you do everything in your power to survive for your mate or you don’t.” 

Joel was furious at the statement. It snapped him from the darkness he dwelled in and forced him to his feet in seconds. He felt dizzy, the lack of food and the pressure in his skull nearly knocking him flat on his ass but he held strong. He fumbled for a second, catching himself on the bars before he looked up to scowl at the omega. 

“You have no right t-” he started before the omega cut him off. 

“I have all the right Joel. Who is going to have to tell their best friend that the love of her life is dead if you keep it up? Me. And what do you want me to say? Oh, he gave up because he thought it would be easier. Do you have any idea what that would do to her?!,” Jake hissed.  

Guilt seeped and Joel fought hard against it to remain poised. How would you react if he died? The more self conscious side of him whispered that it wouldn’t mean anything to you. If anything, it would be a day for celebration. You could finally be unshackled from the old man that weighed you down, free to roam and find someone more suitable. Perhaps you would find someone who wasn’t locked within himself and weighed down by a lifetime of disappointment.  

However, despite Joel’s self doubt, he knew how you felt about him. He felt it through the bond. His death would leave you devastated. Despite the demon on Joel’s shoulder reminding him of all the ways that you would be better off, he knew that he couldn’t be the cause of your pain. Plus, the thought of you with anyone else sickened Joel and made him clench his jaw in an effort not to scream at the threat he had just made up in his head. 

“I… I just,” Joel stopped to collect himself, trying to find the right words to express how he felt. 

“Like I said man, you don’t have to explain it to me. My pup and mate were MIA for a year and now my pup is somewhere without the both of us. Believe me, I get it,” Jake sighed. 

The two men locked eyes for a moment. Pain was etched onto the omega’s face, shattering the usual hopeful front that he put on, and Joel found himself softening. It was true. Jake understood the agony that he felt better than anyone.

“I’m… I’m sorry about your daughter. I hope -,” Joel cut himself off. 

Hope held no weight in this world, he knew that, and it certainly held no place in the heart of a father whose child was missing. 

“Yeah… Yeah, me too,” the younger man said dejectedly. 

Joel nodded, recognizing the faraway expression that tightened the edges of his usually smirking mouth. 

“Thank-,” the sentiment was halted in Joel’s mouth. 

The door swung open. Jake scrambled back to the furthest corner of his cell, making himself tiny as an unfamiliar man walked in. Joel stayed leaned up against the bars, refusing to allow the guard to see any deterrence from him. 

He waited for the guard to unlock the door and take him down to the arena once more but instead he stopped in front of Joel’s cell, glaring at him with a hatred that he wasn’t sure he deserved. 

“She killed my fucking sister,” the man seethed. 

“Who?,” Joel asked incredulously. 

The accusation was bizarre. Joel racked his brain for what it could mean. The only “she” that he could think of was Tess. That was the last woman he knew to have a penchant for bloodlust but it seemed unusual for this man to be bothered so long after her death. Tess had died four years ago, soon to be five. Did the alpha truly expect Joel to remember one of her victims from who knows how many years earlier? If she had lived, he doubted that even Tess would have been able to remember. 

“Your slut has killed twelve of our men. TWELVE! They say it could be more. Fuck, the bodies just keep piling up. And one of them was my sister. Fucking gutted her like a fish and left her out in the snow to bleed to death,” he spat. 

No. 

No, you couldn’t have. Joel refused to believe it. The omega he knew was funny, smart, and so sweet. His mate wasn’t violent. And she certainly didn’t have it in her to gut a fully grown alpha. It wasn’t about strength, he had seen you lift enough things while working around the cabin to know that you were physically strong, it was about brutality.  

“My MATE had nothing to do with what you’re talking about. She would never,” Joel stated. 

The man cackled but the sound didn’t meet his icy stare.

“Thought you might say that,” the alpha said, reaching to pull a rumpled flannel from his coat. 

Joel’s breath caught in his throat at the sight. It was his flannel, the same one that you had donned the day he was knocked out. The green fabric was soiled, red splotches dirtying nearly every inch of it. The man shoved the shirt through the cell and it fell to Joel’s feet. He stooped down, knees creaking as he gathered the fabric and pressed it to his face. 

There was no denying who this fabric belonged to, not when the smell of peppermint and lavender made his lower lip tremble with longing. He caught the plush skin with his teeth, forcing himself to remain strong despite the fact that your scent was polluted with the smell of other alphas. 

“This can’t - You found her shirt and poured it on. There’s no way. You’re fucking lying to me.” 

The man laughed, “Am I?” 

He wasn’t. 

Joel saw it as plain as day on his face and it shocked him. He wasn’t sure how to feel. A million emotions whipped through him. Surprise at your viciousness, grief at the thought that you now knew what it was like to take a life, pride at your bravery, and fear for the target that had undoubtedly been placed on your back. Paul might want you for himself but Joel was unsure if the alpha held enough power to convince a group of pissed off brutes that you were not to be touched. 

“Paul isn’t the only one looking for her now ya know. A group of the guys have already banded up and left town early this morning. You would not believe the things they were talking about doing to her,” he whistled as he stepped closer to the cell. 

Joel hardened his stance and glared at the leering alpha that raised his hands out in front of himself. 

“Hey man, not my style. I prefer to take it a bit slower, make them really feel it as I break 'em in. That way you can see the light fade from their eyes. The little bit of spark that makes them rebel just goes poof,” the man said as he snapped his fingers together. 

Joel’s hand reached out and grasped the guard by the scruff of his neck, pulling him forward to slam into the bars. The man hissed as he leaned in to whisper in his ear. 

“Anyone who touches her is going to die. Maybe it’ll be me or hell, maybe it’ll be her, but they will be killed by one of us.”

Joel fumbled with his waistband for a moment before he withdrew the tool that had been saving him in the arena for days. He smiled as the blade sunk into the hollow of the man’s throat, cutting off his response and turning him to a gagging mess. 

Blood splattered over the front of him when he pulled it out of the guard’s throat but Joel didn’t care. This was the first person that he had killed in his time imprisoned that he felt actually deserved it. The others had just been helpless bystanders that stood in the way of his escape. 

The alpha fell back onto the floor, twitching and retching blood until he finally stilled. Joel watched in sick satisfaction until he heard a voice from the other side of the room. 

“What the fuck did you just do?,” Jake whispered, mortified at the sight before him. 

Joel started to answer him but the sound of footsteps coming towards the door stopped him short. He looked down at the weapon in his hands, unsure of what to do with the evidence. With the proof of his guilt splattered over his chest, he knew that it didn’t take a genius to figure out who had killed the guard. Joel swallowed and made a snap decision, sliding the blade across the floor until it skidded into Jake’s cell. 

Jake’s eyes widened and Joel responded with a quick nod. The omega reached forward and snatched the blade, tucking it into his shirt before he scrambled back into the corner of his cell just as the guards marched in. 

There was some commotion at the dead guard. Men were running in and cursing at him for killing the man but he was somewhere else. It wasn’t until a set of hands pushed him from his cell that Joel realized how much shit he was in. He stumbled over the corpse and landed in the pool of blood that leaked from its side. Gagging at the stickiness coating his face, Joel tried to push himself off the floor and was knocked down by a boot to the ribs. 

Pain erupted from his chest and he wheezed at all of the air being forced out of him. As Joel tried to draw himself up from the concrete once more, he felt hands patting him down for weapons. They were particularly grabby and he growled at their invasiveness but the guards ignored him. Coming up empty, he was lifted by the men and dragged from the room. 

They didn’t even bother to cover his eyes this time. Instead, he was dragged out of the store into the streets with his view completely unobstructed. The stripmall was abandoned, leaving broken down stores that the group had shoddily remodeled into homes. The street was fenced in with bits of scrap metal, planks of wood and wire. It was a poor excuse for a perimeter, with the youngest alphas all seemingly forced to be on patrol duty for the camp. 

The stench that filled the streets made him gag again. It was sickly sweet and he grimaced at its familiarity as he was dragged past the source. Emaciated and tortured bodies were being thrown on a roaring fire. The skin bubbled with the heat and he gulped down vomit as he watched it melt off of the bone into the coals below. 

The guards dropped him and Joel balked at the sight of the store he was placed in front of. It was a women’s lingerie store with cursive lettering enticing potential clients to come in and look at their products. Dark fabric was placed over the glass door, hiding the contents from the outside world as the guard rapped his knuckles on it. 

They waited until the door flew open, revealing a very disheveled Paul with his fly hanging open. The alpha glared at the two guards before his eyes landed on Joel. 

“He fucking killed Mark, stabbed him with something but we couldn’t find it on him. What do you want us to do?”

The noises that came from inside were revolting and Joel craned his neck as far back as it would go to get away from it. The scent of the place alone was enough to make sweat break out on his forehead, nothing but the stench of distressed omegas and perverted alphas swirling in the air. Worst of all was that Paul stood proudly before all of it, grinning down at him from his place in the doorway. 

“Feeling handsy are we?,” Paul sneered at him. 

Joel scowled. There was no retort that would be strong enough to fully encompass the hate he felt for this man. 

“Mmmmm… Shame, I was just in the middle of the sweetest little thing but it's no matter,” he sighed wistfully. 

“You’re fucking sick,” Joel gritted out. 

Paul stooped down to meet his gaze, his breath soured with whatever liquor he had consumed. The only consolation to having the alpha this close was the fact that Joel could see the damage you had done to his face once more. The bruises hadn’t faded a bit. In fact, they looked worse now that the edges were turning green. 

“Look, I’m a little busy with her right now but I’ll send her down to see you soon. It’ll be a nice little family reunion. You can thank me later,” Paul said with a wink, nodding to the guards to drag him away once more. 

The guards cussed as Joel fought them every step of the way. Yelling and thrashing in their grasp, he used every bit of strength he had against them. Who did Paul mean? Were you here? The memory of Paul’s open fly and his smirking face made fury flare up inside of him. The group of alphas that transported him were forced to call for backup and the several men still barely managed to get him up the stairs, using all of their strengths to heave him into the top level of the store as he shouted profanities at them. 

They shoved him towards the hole in the floor, expecting him to fall back but Joel surprised them as he launched forward. His arms wrapped around the slowest looking one as he fell back, pulling the man right over the edge alongside him. The alpha thrashed mid air, unwittingly positioning himself to bear the brunt of Joel’s fall. 

A sickening crunch resounded throughout the room as the two landed. The sound of his skull hitting the pavement was akin to an egg being cracked open against a pan. Rolling off of the other man, Joel watched as blood poured from his nose and his body twitched. His life dripped from the back of his head until an endless gaze settled on the ceiling above. With the guard dead, Joel turned his eyes towards the towers of boxes surrounding him. His ears were peeled for any sign of danger. 

Most of the bodies had been rounded up to be burned, leaving only the biggest or messiest individuals to rot amongst the merchandise. Sickened by the smell, Joel lifted himself from the ground and crept along the outskirts of the room. He didn’t even try the double doors. After three trips in the arena, he understood that the key to the doors had to be earned through some act of violence. 

The first time it had been around the neck of a clicker. The second time they had given it to one of the prisoners, creating a wild goose chase for the poor beta who had alerted both the infected and the alphas by trying to unlock the doors immediately. The third time was the worst in his opinion, with the key hidden in the stomach of a runner. It had taken him a whole day to figure it out amongst the rotting bodies of the horde he had slashed through. 

After tripping over one of the bodies, he had been outraged as he spied the awful sewing job someone had done on its abdomen. Joel gagged at the memory, remembering how he had to wrap his arms in garbage bags to keep the infected tissue from tainting his skin as he fished them out. 

After circling the entirety of the room, Joel straightened up as he realized that he was alone. The fact that he had no opponents should have been comforting but instead he tensed up even more. Never had they sent him over the edge without anyone to fight and never had Paul threatened him in a more terrifying way. With his heart pounding in his chest, Joel placed himself with his back to the wall as he waited for what was to come. 

A shriek echoed from above and Joel saw the outline of a body fall to the floor in one of the aisles. He slinked towards the aisle, careful to keep his steps quiet as he pricked his ears for any sign of life. The closer he got, the more his heart rate picked up until he skidded to a stop in front of the shaking heap on the concrete. 

The scent was the first thing he noticed. It was almost overpowered with the smell of sweat and despair, but the underlying notes of jasmine and crisp apples still remained. Joel wasn’t sure how he knew this omega’s scent and it confused him. Pausing before the lump, he leaned down and carefully tried to turn the woman over. 

Her screech scared him and he jolted back, stumbling over himself until he fell back. Tailbone smacking against the floor, Joel groaned and cussed as the omega jumped to her feet. She shakily held a knife out in front of her and moved towards him, causing him to raise his hands in defeat. 

“Hey, I’m not gonna hurt ya. If I - shit -  Look, I don’t even know where I know you from ma’am. I didn’t mean to get you sent down here, I swear,” Joel soothed. 

The woman glared at him, deepening all of the frown lines in her face. Her nose scrunched up and Joel racked his brain as a wave of familiarity washed over him. How did he know this woman? 

She looked to be the same age as him with streaks of gray throughout the mussed strands. Her eyes were sharp and framed with heavy bags but the shape of them made him cock his head. A heavy sense of deja vu was all he felt as he focused on them. 

“Why do you smell like her? Who are you?,” she hissed. 

Joel gawked but said nothing, which was clearly the wrong choice as the omega launched herself at him. He grunted as the weight of her body slammed into him. He held his hands up in defense just in time for her to slash into his fist. A gasp was all he managed before the woman reeled back to plunge the blade into him but Joel surprised her. 

Not wanting to hurt the feeble woman, he pinched the skin on her side between his fingers. The slip that barely covered her beaten body couldn’t guard her from the pinch and she whined in pain, reaching down to swat at Joel’s hand. With her distracted, he snatched the blade from her other hand and flipped her over. 

She thrashed beneath him, screaming the most proper insults he had ever heard. Never in his life had he been called an oaf in such a ruthless way. Without even having to ask, Joel knew that it had not been you that Paul threatened him with. The woman that fought against his hold was your mother. 

“STOP IT,” Joel roared, shaking her in his grasp until she stilled. 

She glared at him, poisoning him with her pointed gaze as he sighed. 

“I’m your daughter’s mate, okay? My name is Joel, Joel Miller. I ain’t gonna hurt you ma’am. M’trying to get to her before she gets herself killed, alright? Now stop fussin,” he scolded. 

A snort flew from her mouth as he stood up, backing away slowly to give her some room. 

“Ma’am? You look to be the same age as me,” she snapped, “Which leads me to my daughter, are you her mate or her keeper? Because the last time a keeper was chosen, I distinctly remember aiding in the escape. If she has only fallen into the hands of another then I fear it was all for nothing.” 

Joel shook his head, “M’not her keeper. She don’t belong to me or anyone else. I know that I ain’t exactly right for her but I-I love her, alright? I can’t explain it but I’m not like those men, I don’t - fuck - I would never hurt her.” 

A flash of something softened her eyes for a moment, making her appear more like you for just a moment before she hardened again. Joel sighed. He knew he needed her to trust him somewhat so that he could get them both out alive. 

“She claimed me first. I wanted to but I couldn’t until she did and she knew that ‘cus she loves me. Now, I don’t know why she loves me but she does. And I love her just the same,” he said with more confidence. 

The woman sighed and shook her head. 

“They told me that I needed to kill the alpha in here. If I did, they said they would let me out of the pleasure house. I could cook or clean instead of…”

Joel swallowed at the admission. He didn’t judge her for the way her eyes darted to the knife in his hand. If it had been him stuck in that god forsaken place, the knife would already be wedged in between the ribs of anyone that stood in his way. Carefully, he placed it on the ground and slid it over to her. She looked at it but didn’t move to pick it up. 

“And you believe them?,” Joel questioned. 

Sighing, your mother shook her head and dropped down onto the floor. She groaned at the effort as she scooted her back against the shelf. Joel hissed at the sight of handprints bruised up and down her legs. He couldn’t imagine the pain she had endured at the hands of these men. The thought of it made his skin crawl. 

“Mind your manners,” she scolded. 

Caught red handed, Joel moved his eyes away from her with his cheeks pink. He felt awful for gawking at her in such a vulnerable state. 

“Apologies ma’am,” he stammered, carefully easing his coat off to hand it to her. 

Joel kept his gaze elsewhere as your mother wrapped herself in his coat. The bulky fabric did more to cover her than the slip did and he could sense the tension in the air dissipate slightly.  

He wasn’t sure why, but the tiny bruised woman sat beside him was somehow the most intimidating person he had ever met. She exuded resentfulness, with a bitter pinch to her features constantly set in place. Unwilling to look at her again, he scanned the room for anything to help them escape. 

“How was she? Before Paul came for her I mean, how was she? Was she�� well?”

Joel turned at the question, opening his mouth for a moment before he snapped it shut. He knew that your mother, despite all of her mistakes, must have loved you. If she didn’t, she wouldn’t have aided in your runaway bride act. Still, it surprised him that she would ask him about you while in such a dangerous place. 

“She was okay, happy. WE were happy,” he tried. 

Seeing the unsatisfied look on her face, Joel searched his mind for another answer. Laughing when he found it, he couldn’t help but smile as he continued. 

“She had started drawing but it always turned out super warped. Like, psychedelic almost. I don’t know for sure but I think she was only doing it because she knew they made me laugh.” 

The wonky cat above his nightstand at home flashed before his eyes and Joel sucked down air, trying to focus on the present to keep himself from crying. 

“And you… You cared for her too?” 

Joel nodded thoughtfully, “I tried to, I AM trying to, as hard as I can.” 

Nodding, your mother made an affirmative noise and leaned back once more. She looked slightly less peeved, with the crease still present between her eyebrows but her shoulders relaxed. Joel decided to count it as a win. 

“She gets that from her father. Not Josiah of course but her ACTUAL father. He was light and soft, like her. I tried to make her tough but it only backfired. She hated me but what was I supposed to do? They would have had her hung if they knew,” she sighed. 

Joel blinked, “Knew what?”

“That her father was a Jew. That alone would have ensured her damnation in their eyes. Aside from that, I never told Josiah or her that her father and I never married. We were mated so marriage seemed pointless but again, they killed bastards in that community, so…” 

“So she had to be perfect,” he answered. 

She nodded, “I might have been cruel but I was not without my reasons.” 

He hummed at her words. It wasn’t as if he completely agreed with her actions but he understood the fear involved with trying to keep a child safe in this world. Perhaps her cruelty was just a means to an end, a way to keep you alive. Joel completely understood where she was coming from but he still bristled at the lengths she went to achieve her goals. 

Ma’am-,” he started. 

“You can call me Mrs. Y/L/N, nothing more. It is not correct to keep calling your mother in law ma’am after we have already been acquainted,” she snipped. 

Joel wondered if he should correct her. You were mated and that was as good as any ceremony in the eyes of any potential suitors, with his scent covering your own for the rest of your life but that didn’t mean that the two of you were married. Joel hadn’t even thought about it and you had never mentioned it to him. Still, with the strict guidelines that your mother was used to in her previous community, he felt that bringing it up may sour things between them prematurely. 

“Is… I mean, was that her last name too?,” he asked dumbly. 

“You claimed my daughter and you don’t even know her last name?!”

Joel cringed at the reaction. It became clear to him that admitting he didn’t know your last name was not the smartest thing to do either and he kicked himself for it. Before he could diffuse the explosion of rage that pushed your mother from the floor and into his personal space, the click of the lock forced the both of them to turn towards the doors. 

Light poured into the space, blinding Joel for a moment as a figure hobbled in. After blinking a few times, his vision cleared and Jake appeared before them. 

“Jacob?!,” the omega at his feet screeched, turning in an instant to launch herself at the younger man. 

Jake gasped as she crushed his body against her own, blanching at the affectionate embrace. Given the reaction of the younger man and all of the stories he had heard about her, Joel gathered that this was not a regular occurrence. He tolerated the hug for a moment, even awkwardly patting her on the back a few times before he withdrew. 

“Your daughter, I met her. She’s so sweet that one and I promise, I-I do everything I can when they bring her,” she stammered. 

Jake gasped, “You’ve seen Allie?!” 

Your mother nodded, “Paul brings her sometimes, drops her off with me and the other omegas. She is such a darling Jake, they all love her.” 

“They bring the kid to the pleasure house?,” Joel wondered aloud. 

Panic broke out on Jake’s face and Joel cringed as your mother turned to glare at him. 

“Don’t be ridiculous Joel. They don’t keep us there all the time. He brings her to the place we sleep whenever Cooper gets too close to finding her. Once he lays off, Paul takes her back to wherever she was before,” she explained. 

A gust of air left the omega’s mouth at the admission, the worst fears being washed away and releasing the tension from his shoulders. Jake shook his head as his worst fears left him, rubbing his eyes tiredly before he looked back up again. 

“We have to go, right now. Cooper released the prisoners and they are burning this place to the ground. Quick, there’s not much time,” Jake urged. 

The two omegas took off and Joel stumbled after them, mind reeling with a million questions. The muscles in his legs ached as they bounded up the staircase but he ignored it, focusing on keeping his head clear as he followed Jake towards the exit. 

Just as the key slipped into the door, it was ripped open and Joel shoved the two omegas behind his back. Puffing up his chest and barring his teeth, he was met with the sight of a bloodied Cooper holding a very teary eyed toddler in his grasp. The younger alpha winced at his stance and hugged the girl tighter to his chest, making Joel relax immediately in response. 

“Oh my baby,” Jake cried out, bypassing Joel completely to pluck his daughter from his mate’s hands. 

Allie threw her chubby arms around his neck, blubbering nonsense into his ear as he cooed at her. The moment was heartwarming but it also had to be cut short given the circumstance. 

“We have to get out of here. Paul is fucking gone but this place has gone nuts. Keep your heads down and follow me, okay?,” Cooper paused until the group nodded, “J? You got her or do you need me to carry her?”

Jake shook his head and squeezed Allie closer, “I’m not going to let her go Coop, I promise.” 

They shared a look before Cooper nodded, turning on his heel to lead them towards the exit. Joel’s heart slammed against his chest as he walked along the edges of the ground floor. The anarchy he heard from outside set him on edge. The smell of smoke and the sound of screams overwhelmed his senses. Nothing could have prepared Joel for the scene that played out in front of him as he exited the arena. 

Freed prisoners sprinted away from their captors, only for the alpha chasing them to be struck down by another newly freed individual. Most of the buildings were consumed by flames, with the untouched ones being licked at by the blaze. He watched as omegas and betas tore through the street, crawling under the wire to get to freedom. Overwhelmed alphas tried to shoot them down as they rushed through their defense. Half of them missed the moving targets and ran from their position, while the other half were knocked down and trampled by the survivors.

“LET’S FUCKING GO!,” Cooper yelled over the chaos, rushing in the other direction. 

The group followed closely behind, dodging distressed camp members and traumatized prisoners as they ran. Joel watched as Jake shoved his daughter’s face into his chest, shielding her from the world as they raced towards the final exit. She fought weakly against him but he murmured softly in her ear as he ran, calming her down enough that she stayed put. 

Despite the fact that his lungs burned from the exertion, Joel kept his pace until your mother stumbled and fell. Cooper and Jake stopped, yelling at the woman to get up as she struggled to her feet. She tried twice and then fell, much too weak to stand up by herself any longer. 

“We have to go!,” Jake cried out in a panic. 

Joel debated for a moment before he stooped down to lift her in his arms. She squawked and kicked out her legs, yelling at him to put her down but he ignored her, nodding at the others to continue. 

“Hush up right now unless you want me to leave ya behind,” he snapped as frustration overcame his patience. 

Joel would never do that but she didn’t have to know that. All he needed was for her to allow him to help her but she was making it incredibly difficult. If threats were the way to make her shut up, then threats it would be. 

“You are a mindless brute! I don’t know what my daughter sees in you but put me down now!” 

Annoyed at the cantankerous woman that sat in his arms, Joel glared down at her as he resumed his pace. 

“From what I hear, you’re not such a walk in the park either lady. If you were anyone else, I’d leave ya here but luckily you’re my mate’s mother. Now shut the fuck up and survive this with me so that I don’t have to explain to your daughter why I let you die,” he seethed. 

Her eyes widened at his sharp words before she nodded once and relented, staying silent as the crew raced towards an opening in the fence. Jake squeezed through first, holding the back of Allie’s head as he crawled through the space. Next went your mother, who required a helpful hand on both sides to make her way through. Then Cooper, who went through with ease before it was Joel’s turn. 

The cracking in his knees made him groan as he made his way to the other side but he managed to slip most of the way through the hole before he felt a hand grasp his ankle. Joel turned over onto his back, only to see the face of an infected clawing at his boot. He gasped and kicked it in the face, scrambling through the last few inches to burst out the other side. 

“Infected coming!,” Joel shouted as he scooped up your mother, making the entire group hasten their pace. 

Looking back, he saw the face he had kicked crawling under the metal. Judging by the hands that reached out front around the edges, Joel had a feeling there was more to come. 

“What’s the plan here guys?,” he panted, his breathing no more than wheezes as he tried to keep up with the younger men. 

Cooper pointed his finger at a rusted sunfire and tossed him the keys, the group quickening their pace once more as a roar tore through the air. Joel didn’t need to look back to know that sound. Any shoddily made barrier would be no use for a bloater and as the beast slammed itself against the wall, everyone threw themselves into the vehicle. 

Joel tried the ignition once as the first layer of barrier collapsed. 

“Come on, come on, come on, come on,” he mumbled to himself as he tried again to no avail. 

“Flick the headlights on and off, that might give it some juice,” Cooper called. 

The woman to his right scoffed, “That’s a myth.”

“And how would you know? I’ve never even seen you drive,” Cooper sassed right back. 

“I’ll have you know little boy, that I had a full license and was driving before you were even a thought so why don’t you-” 

“SHUT UP!,” Joel shouted as the last bit of barrier broke down, revealing a bloated body that was running towards them. 

A horde of infected, some newer and some gnarled with age, stumbled in pursuit of the giant. He swore and tried again, holding his breath until the car finally turned on. With the infected hot on their tail, Joel slammed his foot all the way to the floor and sped off. He grimaced at the burst of cordyceps that the bloater flung to his right, jerking to the side of the road before he righted the car once more. The next burst of infection exploded somewhere behind them, the distance between them too great for it to be of any danger and finally Joel relaxed in his seat. 

“Is everyone okay?,” Cooper asked. 

Given the frantic hands that poked and prodded at Allie in the rearview mirror, Joel figured that question was not for him or your mother.  

Jake sighed, “We’re okay Coop, aren’t we Allie-girl?”

The little girl sprung up from her father’s chest, gurgling in response and hooking her fingers around her other father’s finger. Cooper visibly relaxed, falling back against the seat before he scooched closer to his mate. Joel looked away, letting them have a moment as he looked over at the passenger seat. 

Your mother sat ramrod straight, with her chin lifted high in the air. Even with all of her injuries, she remained almost regal in the way she presented herself and turned to glare at him for his gaze. Joel sighed and looked forward, keeping his eyes on the road instead. 

There would be no winning her over until you were found and Joel didn’t blame her for it. If Sarah or Ellie had been missing only for an older alpha to show up unannounced, apparently bonded with one of them, he would have reacted way worse. The nasty looks were, if anything, a courtesy. 

An hour of driving passed before Cooper directed him towards a side road, bringing the car down a terribly shoveled entrance before an old house came into view. Joel pulled the car up and parked, keeping the engine idling as he turned towards the other alpha with an eyebrow raised. 

“Come on, you three out while me and Joel have a little chat,” Cooper said carefully, never breaking eye contact with him. 

Your mother sighed and left the vehicle without another word, too tired to fight against the men around her anymore. She heaved herself up and moved towards the front door, hobbling off until her figure disappeared from the doorway. 

“I’m not getting out unless you tell me what it is that you’re going t-” Jake started. 

“Out of the car and into the house with our daughter. Right now. I am not asking,” Cooper demanded, his clipped tone leaving no room for retort. 

Joel winced at the way Jake balked and heeded his request, leaving the car with the little girl on his hip. He looked back at the car only once before he frowned and followed your mother’s path inside. Cooper sighed when Jake was gone and rubbed at his eyes. He exited the car as well, rounding the front of it to plop himself into the passenger seat. When the door slammed shut, the alpha turned himself towards Joel and began. 

“About 50 clicks south is where our old camp was. I can’t be sure but if I know my brother, that’s where he is taking her. Go down the old service exit before I-80. If you go now, maybe you can save her. I don’t care that she asked me not to, I would want to know,” Cooper rushed out while twisting his hands together. 

Joel froze. 

“Who has her? Wha- What did she ask? I-I don’t,” he sputtered as his heart lurched in his chest. 

“I found Allie and I went to get her but they caught me,” he winced at memory, “She busted in and saved me. I tried to get her to come with, but she wouldn’t listen. She said it wouldn’t end unless she went to him and made me promise that I wouldn’t tell you what happened.”

The world crashed down around him. Paul had you. He had you and he had taken you somewhere 50 kilometers south. All of Joel’s worst fears had come to life. You were going to sacrifice yourself for the safety of everyone else. Memories of a hospital and a little girl who wanted to save the world with her gift flooded his mind, drawing out a sharp gasp from Joel as he clutched at his chest. 

Joel felt so many things, with anger being the first. He was selfishly mad at you for allowing yourself to be taken rather than sacrificing others. Then he felt guilty at that, knowing that it was against your character to ever let harm come to those that you loved. But he was also angered by the alpha that sat beside him for leaving you behind. 

“Don’t look at me like that when I know that if you were in my position, you would’ve done the same. I am not going to sacrifice my daughter for her or anyone else,” he argued. 

Straightening his back at the statement, Joel nodded once in response and motioned for him to leave. 

“I’m sorry Joel, I’m really fucking sorry. I don’t even know what we are going to do now but I have my own family. There is a mate in there that I don’t deserve and a pup that needs me. You have to understand that,” Cooper tried.

Joel sighed and shook his head of the bitterness that seeped in from the corners of his mind.  

“Leave Montana, head into Wyoming and go to Jackson county. My brother’s wife runs a spot up that way, they’d take you in. Tell them that I sent ya. Well, tell Tommy I sent you, not Maria.” 

The thank you was stopped midway by Joel holding up his hand. Cooper nodded and stepped out, wishing him luck as he slammed the door shut behind him. Deep down, he didn’t blame the man for picking his family. Cooper was right, Joel would have done the same in a heartbeat if it had come down to them or you. However, with his mate trapped somewhere alone with a psychopath, Joel didn’t spare him a second glance as he sped off once more. 

Panic bleached his mind of any substantial thoughts and he remained relatively silent as he sped through the streets. The beast within had roared to life and demanded blood, making him tighten his grasp on the wheel until the leather creaked. Flashes of memories, all involving you, were the only things that kept him somewhat human. 

His pulse quickened as he neared your former camp. Sweat dripped down Joel’s face and he noticed that his hands were shaky as he pulled off into the service exit. The fear was overwhelming. Were you alive? Were you hurt? Were you even at the camp? Swallowing every bit of panic that tightened his chest, Joel pressed on towards the clearing before him. 

 - You - 

“I’m not telling you fuck all bitch.”

A cackle echoed throughout the clearing, reverberating off the ice covered trees until it shot back to reach your ears. 

“Oh, I know. That’s not what this is about,” you chuckled, dragging the blade across the other cheek as the man groaned in pain. 

Blood beaded from the slash before it dripped down his cheek. Amused, you watched him thrash against the zip ties for a moment before you stepped back. Red faced and panting, the man called out for you as you stepped away from him. 

“Hey! You can’t just leave me here!,” the alpha yelled. 

Another bout of laughter tore from your mouth as you grasped the hilt of the blade and pulled, tearing it from the chest of his deceased comrade. From somewhere behind you, a twig snapped and you smiled at the sound. 

“I can and I will. They’ll find what’s left of you in a couple days. If you’re lucky maybe they’ll even put a bullet between your eyes. Some of your brothers haven’t been so lucky,” you chuckled and nodded towards the sound of shuffling feet, “Horde just keeps on growing.” 

Without another word, you ignored his cries for mercy as you turned into the trees. The alpha’s insults quickly turned into screams. The sound of a body being torn apart by infected quickened your pace. As swiftly as possible, you scrambled into the cab of the truck and pulled away from the clearing as they finished off your opponent. 

It had been like this for days. After a couple of hours on the road, you had found the first look out and scoped it out. The guards patrolled mostly during the night and kept their weakest alphas on guard during the day while the others slept. Understanding this, you parked in a patch of trees down the road and waited for the right moment. The minute the guards switched out, you were slinking around the perimeter to take out the three men that patrolled the abandoned gas station. 

Thinking back as you drove through the quiet roads, you remembered how surprised the sleeping alphas looked when they had awoken to the feeling of a knife plunged into their chests. Some of them tried to scream but you had gagged them with cloth. It was amazing how much you could accomplish while your opponents slept. Seven alphas were killed at that first stop. You felt absolutely nothing as you watched them die, only a sense of determination to get to your mate. 

Countless men and women had died at your hands since that day, all of them guilty of being associated with the man that had your alpha. It was on the fourth day on the road that you had stumbled across the camp. You had to stop yourself from running towards the strip mall when you saw it. A pang of recognition jolted through the bond at the sight of the repurposed shops, the mark on your neck aching as you overlooked the town that held the man you searched for. 

It was only when you watched a set of guards drag a broad shouldered man from the back of the store and up a set of stairs that you knew for sure. Joel fought against them and you had watched, heart aching at the blood splattered across his clothes and the hood over his face. You had grasped the gun in your waistband, weighing your options before you let it go. 

They might shoot him if you didn’t kill them and even still, you weren’t entirely sure you had the strength to rush the place without the proper fire power. Plus, what if you missed and hit him instead? Joel was dragged up a set of stairs and into another store, while you were forced to do nothing but watch. 

“I’m coming,” you whispered to the air, hoping that it would carry and somehow reach only his ears. 

In the next few days, you had amped up your game. Somewhere between the first outpost and the camp itself was no man’s land, where Paul’s group had left the infected to act as an impromptu defense for them. Leading them towards the camp, you had been the cause of much confusion amongst the alphas. Some bodies you left like a present at their doorstep, mocking them with their mutilated corpses. While others you left trussed up amongst the trees for the infected to find, leaving the group with a growing horde to deal with. 

When you weren’t hunting down the alphas, a handful of houses were scattered around the camp and served as impromptu safe havens for you intermittently. You never went inside, knowing that the second you stepped in that the patrol might catch your scent the next day. Instead, you parked somewhere and rested in the truck for a few hours before heading back to work.

As the days passed, you had slain a good portion of the population but still could not get any closer to infiltrating the space. The guards that patrolled the perimeter were younger and likely greener, but were frustratingly vigilant as they walked along the rickety fence. There were a few holes in the perimeter but you weren’t confident that you would be able to sneak into the store they continuously dragged Joel back to without one of them catching you. 

If you were caught, you knew where they would send you. The lingerie store was frequented by all of the alphas, except for a couple of them that seemed to prefer guard duty over whatever went on in the establishment. Given the screaming omegas that they dragged into the back of the store and the smirking alphas that left out of the front, you had a good guess as to what went on. 

Exhaustion pulled at your eyelids at the thought of it and you sighed, knowing that you needed to rest. Pain radiated from the cuts and bruises that covered your body but you didn’t care. Some of them would scar, especially the wound that cracked open on your cheek with every smile. The owner of the truck had given you that one, her fists slamming into your face until you plunged the blade into her gut. Again, you didn’t mind. It would all be worth it to see Joel’s face again. 

Pulling off of the main road, the truck rumbled down a side street towards the house you had chosen for your nap. Driving closer to the house, you pumped the brakes at the sight of a fresh set of tire tracks in the snow. The truck stopped as you threw it in park, debating for a moment before you shut it off and slipped from the cab. 

Holding the gun close to your chest, you moved into the surrounding trees. With the vegetation acting as a cover, you stepped towards the back of the home only to be greeted with the sight of a group of alphas standing over a beaten man. The sight could have been disregarded if any other man had laid bleeding against the ground, but it was Cooper that gasped for air as a woman kicked him in the ribs. 

“Please! Please stop - fuck!,” Cooper groaned as another boot knocked him from his hands and knees. 

You paused from your place in the trees. Sure, the alpha was not your favorite person but he meant something to Jake. This was his husband, his mate. The mark that your best friend had claimed Cooper with glared at you from above his collar, judging you for thinking about walking away from the scene. A plethora of whispered swears poured from your lips as you watched the group laugh. 

The memory of him allowing you to slam a pot over his head as a guise to escape flashed through your mind. 

“Fucking hell,” you swore, realizing that there was no way that you could walk away from this.  

Four alphas surrounded Cooper, the group snickered as the largest one taunted him. Removing the magazine from the pistol, you counted six bullets left. Since leaving the cabin, your aim had gotten astronomically better but it still left something to be desired. Plus, using all six of your bullets to only possibly kill four alphas was not viable. 

“Just wait until your brother gets here you punk,” the woman spat, “Always knew you were a traitor, hiding your omega from us then conveniently losing the other one when nobody was there to see it. You’re a pussy. Better the kid stays with Paul, maybe she’ll learn her damn place.” 

Cooper growled ferally as he clutched his side, “Don’t you fucking dare bring my kid into this. I will f- oomph.” 

The hand wrenching his head back cut him off, making Cooper whine as his mousy strands were yanked back harshly. The other alpha met his gaze, smiling at the discomfort on his face before another vehicle made its way up towards the house. 

“Looks like your time is up traitor. Doubt big brother is gonna bail you out this time, not when you have been trying to cover up the bitch’s tracks for days.” 

Cooper didn’t say anything. Instead, he bowed his head at the statement, thus proving his own guilt in the matter. You were surprised but it made sense. For days you had been slaughtering their guards or leaving them to be infected in the woods but only the few bodies ever seemed to make it back to them. 

After you had reached double digits in your murder spree, you began to question their patrolling abilities. However, with Cooper’s wordless admission, you realized that their bodies had been hidden by the partner in crime that you didn’t even know you had. 

“What’s this?”

Paul rounded the corner of the home, peering down at his brother as he kneeled on the cold ground. His face showed no emotion towards Cooper’s beaten face, only a look of boredom as he strolled towards the group. 

The alpha that stood over Cooper smiled at Paul, “Asshole finally found the kid, too bad we found a couple of bodies in the trunk when we seared it. Seems our friend here has been using his free time to help out your little slut.” 

A scowl tightened Paul’s face and he stooped down in front of the injured alpha. Cooper flinched at the proximity, his face pale as his brother leered at him. 

“Is that true baby brother? After all I’ve done for you?,” he tsked. 

Cooper’s face snapped up and you were shocked by the uncharacteristically cold glare that hardened his features. 

“All you’ve done?,” he chuckled and shook his head, “And what is that Paul? You have taken everything from me. My daughter, my mate, my life. Even Sophie, our own baby sister, our blood, wasn’t safe from you, was she?” 

Paul reached down, snatching Cooper’s face in his hands and you winced at the way his fingers dug into his skin. 

“You watch it Coop, wouldn’t want to have to teach ya another lesson,” he warned.  

Cooper laughed, “Funny, Sophie used to get lessons too. Maybe that’s why she decided to throw herself off that building. Ya know, you talk a big game about protecting what’s yours but I don’t think you have any idea what it means to care for anything. There’s only one thing you want.” 

“And what’s that?”

“You just want to be the big man like dad,” you watched as Paul’s jaw twitched at Cooper’s words,“Does it make you feel strong to be like him? Does it make you forget what it feels like to be on the other side? Maybe if you hurt enough people, you’ll forget about what he did, huh?” 

Shock was all you felt as Paul slammed his fist into his brother’s nose, making blood pour from it as Cooper groaned in pain. Another punch came down and slammed into his cheek. Then another and another, until the younger man was sprawled out against the snow. Despite the blows, the smile on his face was unmistakable as his brother wailed on him. Paul might have overpowered him but Cooper had read the man so accurately that it had made him lose his nerve. 

Taking a moment to gather himself, you watched as Paul smoothed out the front of his jacket and cleared his throat before turning towards his group. 

“Take him inside. Tie him up in the basement, if he even thinks about escaping you shoot him down. Both of you,” Paul nodded towards the biggest in the group, “With me. If they were working together then she’ll be somewhere close. Let’s go.” 

Two of the men dragged a barely conscious Cooper into the house, hauling him up the steps as the rest of the group piled into Paul’s car. You waited until it drove off, watching until it disappeared. 

As quietly as possible, you crept towards the building and eased yourself into the house. The alphas were nowhere to be seen, likely in the basement with a semi conscious Cooper as you moved throughout the living room. An open doorway led towards the basement but you dodged it and disappeared into one of the bedrooms to wait. The plan was to hide in the bedroom until the alphas re-emerged. You were going to creep downstairs in order to free Cooper but the plan was foiled when the babbling of a small child made you spin around. 

A little girl dressed in a tattered jumper and sesame street pj pants smiled at you from the confines of an ancient playpen. There was no mistaking whose child she was. The golden skin and glossy ringlets made your chest pang, seeing bits of your best friend as you looked upon his daughter. The color was off, closer to Cooper’s light brown, but they still shined in the light like Jake’s did. 

The brightness in her green eyes astounded you and you wondered if the man she got them from had ever been as happy as her. From what had been said outside in the snow, you doubted it. Her mouth seemed perpetually upturned in a smirk, just like Jake, and you smiled as she reached her hands out to you. Slowly, you moved towards her and plucked her from the playpen. 

“Hi baby,” you whispered, “You must be Allie. I’m Ja- I’m your dad’s friend, it’s nice to meet you.” 

Allie blinked up at you and smiled brightly, seemingly unbothered by the fact that a complete stranger held her. She continued to babble, gesturing wildly with her hands as she answered you in her own way. You bit back a laugh, seeing nothing but Jake as she gave an explanation that was complete nonsense but still dramatic as hell. Her words meant nothing, but the tone of Allie’s voice was chalk full of sass. 

“Tell me about it,” you sighed and Allie nodded as if she understood. 

A pair of footsteps walking up the steps popped the bubble of warmth in the child’s room and you panicked. There was no way you wanted to confront these men in front of Allie, but you needed to get her father out of the basement. You gulped and placed the girl back in her playpen carefully. She whined, trying to get you to pick her back up as she began to cry and your heart broke. 

Nobody in Paul’s group seemed like they would be caring enough to look after the child. That meant that she had probably been alone in different rooms since being separated from her parents. You wondered how Allie had remained so cheerful despite her isolation. That was no way for a child to live. Fat tears dripped down her cheeks as her lower lip trembled and you brushed the curls from her face. 

“Shhhh Allie, it’s okay. I’m gonna go get your papa okay? Stay right here baby, I’ll be right back and then we’ll go get your other daddy,” you soothed. 

Allie sniffed and nodded, babbling more jumbled nonsense that sounded vaguely like an affirmation. You leaned down and kissed the top of her head, smiling at her again before you slipped out of the room. 

The house was still but you kept your ears peeled as you moved towards the basement. Just as you reached the stairs, a door clicked behind you and you wheeled around. The alpha that stepped from the bathroom looked more surprised than you, stumbling back against the wall as you reached towards your waistband. Before he had the chance to grab his own, your gun was already out, firing two shots into his chest. 

The other guard yelled out for his partner from outside and you swore, hurrying into the kitchen and hiding behind the island as the alpha raced into the house. The man tore through the place, completely unaware that he had bypassed your hidden figure to get to the dying man. He stooped down in front of the alpha, questioning him as redness seeped into the fabric of his shirt. It was no use, the alpha was too weak to answer as he drowned from the blood filling his lungs. 

The final breath rattled out of the man’s chest and his body stilled, causing the other man to swear. The remaining alpha hung his head for a moment, still unaware of your presence as you switched out the gun for a knife. It was quieter and you had more experience with it. Almost hovering over him, it was the creak of a floorboard that gave you away. 

The alpha’s head snapped up and you gasped as he whipped the gun from its holster in a flash. The shot rang out and you could’ve sworn you heard it as the bullet grazed the side of your head. The force of it buckled your knees, making you fall to the floor in shock as the excruciating sensation forced tears from your eyes. Blood poured from the area and you whined as the red liquid dripped into your eyes, blurring your field of vision while you tried to lift yourself from your stomach. 

Dizzied from the shot, you struggled to get your bearings and were knocked back down by the man. You screamed as he kneeled against your back to keep you down, the sound being cut off as he put more weight into his hold. With your lungs crushed, you coughed and struggled against him. 

“Oh you’re in trouble now baby,” he chuckled, running a heavy hand down your backside. 

The feeling of it was revolting and you tried uselessly to buck him off. The alpha laughed at your protests, unperturbed as he fiddled with the waistline of your baggy jeans. This was it, you thought, this was the end. Dread filled you as you felt fingers dip under your shirt. 

“I will say. The amount of us you’ve taken out has been quite impressive,” he pinched your hip and you whined, “You’ve become a sort of white whale for us all. Can’t believe I get to be Captain Ahab.” 

You laughed, remembering yourself with his stupid statement. 

This man was nothing. All he wanted from you was fear, that’s all men like him ever wanted from omegas. Understanding this, you laughed harder despite the weight pressing you into the floorboards. A growl came from behind and the man flipped you over, glaring down at you as you continued to giggle. 

“The fuck is so funny?,” he snapped. 

“Moby Dick bites off Captain Ahab’s leg you fucking idiot. The whale kills everyone except for Ishmael and survives the crew hunting him. So according to your own metaphor, I’m going to kill you,” you laughed, wriggling your arm from under him to rip the gun from his grasp. 

The man reached forward to take it back but you were too quick, pressing the barrel of it against his gut and firing another shot into his stomach. He groaned as he bled out onto your clothes and you shoved him off. The man held the hole in his stomach closed with one hand and you sighed. Reaching backwards for your knife, you grabbed it and slid it across his neck. He bled out in seconds. 

Rolling away from the mess, you groggily got to your feet and stumbled towards the basement. From somewhere in the distance, you heard the sound of Allie crying but you ignored it. The sight of your bleeding face would only make it worse, so you trudged towards the person who might be able to comfort her. 

The basement was freezing with dripping ceilings and unfinished floors. You hobbled into the space, ears ringing as you moved towards the alpha that was tied to the chair. Cooper was unconscious, or at least he seemed to be, and you paused to collect yourself. 

Nausea forced vomit up from your mouth and you retched, puking onto the concrete before him. Bits of it splattered against your pants. You groaned and swayed on your feet while holding the bleeding graze mark on the side of your head. Breathing in deeply, you slapped at your cheeks to keep yourself alert. 

“Jesus Christ, what the fuck happened?,” Cooper called out. 

You laughed, spitting out the remainder of it from your mouth before you smiled back up at him. 

“Should see the other guy,” you coughed, spitting up blood as you kneeled beside the chair. 

As quickly as you could, the ties around his wrists were loosened until Cooper could break free. He gently pushed your shaky hands away, reaching down to speedily work his feet out of the restraints. You sat back and watched through bleary eyes. Cooper spoke to you as he released himself from the chair but his words were faraway. Everything was distorted, like you were seeing the world through one of those funhouse mirrors at the carnivals your father used to take you to. 

“Hey! I said, is my daughter okay? Did you see her?!,” he asked, shaking your shoulders to break you from the haze. 

You swallowed down more puke from the sudden movement, “She’s fine. Upstairs in the playpen. She - Look, I don’t even think she’s old enough to know what’s going on.”

Cooper nodded, looking relieved as he helped you to your feet. You expected him to drop his hold on your arm but instead he tightened it, leading you from the basement and towards Allie once more. You stumbled after him, delirious from the blow to your head as Cooper dragged you behind him. 

“Allie-girl! How are you honey, Papa missed you,” he cooed as he entered the room, swooping down to gather his daughter in his arms. 

You leaned against the doorframe, lowering yourself onto your bum and hugging your knees. Queasiness filled your mouth with water and you turned your face away, emptying the contents of your stomach once more until only bile remained. 

You weren’t sure how much more you could take. 

Suddenly, the cooing and soft words halted. The vibe of the room shifted and Cooper swore as he peered out of the curtains. Even in your disjointed state, you could tell that whatever he saw wasn’t good. Slowly, you stood up and followed his gaze out the window. 

In the driveway, Paul shoved the door of the car closed behind him. He stopped and began to dig through the backseat of his car as the two of you watched. 

The alpha beside you looked terrified. Any confidence he had previously was lost with his pup in his arms. Allie’s hands smacked against his chest, trying to get her father’s attention as sweat dampened his hairline. Cooper’s face was as white as a ghost as he watched his brother walk towards the house.  

You swallowed the lump in your throat, realizing what you had to do. He couldn’t bear the weight of this for you, nobody could. It was time to face your demons. 

“Take her out the window. Go back to camp and get everyone out, then leave. I’ll hold him off,” you instructed. 

“What?!” 

You shook your head at his incredulous reply, “Paul isn’t going to stop until he has me, so I’m going to give him what he wants. Just… Just promise me you’ll take Joel when you get Jake out. Tell him I love him. And please Cooper, don’t tell him what I’ve done.”  

Cooper shook his head wildly, hugging his daughter closer to his chest as you backtracked towards the hallway. He stepped forward to grab your arm and you whirled around, glaring at him before he could touch you. 

“Joel Miller is the best person I know, okay? And I dragged him into this. Fuck, I-I dragged you all into this. Which means it’s up to me to finish it, alright? Whatever happens just… Just please get him out without telling him what happened here. He’ll come after me and I can’t - fuck - I can’t be the reason for anyone else’s pain anymore,” you pleaded desperately. 

Looking over his shoulder, you saw that Paul was almost all the way to the front door. Cooper stood still, torn as you mouthed the word please. Allie babbled in his arms and he looked down at her for a moment before he looked back up at you with his mind made. Slowly, he swallowed hard and nodded. 

“Thank you,” you whispered, turning away from Cooper and Allie to march towards the front door. 

This was it. Everything that you had been through culminated in this moment. You thought back to your first week at Josiah’s camp. Paul was there, although a young man, and he had leered at you from the barn as you played with Jake outside. Flipping forward, you thought of your wedding day. He had looked victorious as Josiah dragged you down the aisle, like a hunter who had caught his prey. It was the same look Paul had given you when you were caught outside the diner. 

Would he look at you like that again as you opened the door? You didn’t care. The thought of his gaze didn’t hold the same effect it once had. You had grown and now, as you gripped the handle with steady hands, there was no fear as you stepped out into the afternoon sun. 

[banes-favourite]

I doubt the House of Hope was the most hygienic place, and even before Enver was sold his parent's house probably wasn't that hygienic either because of the area they lived and how it sounds like they were living in poverty

So do you think this has had an effect on him as an adult? Does he still struggle with certain aspects of keeping good hygiene since he never really got into the practice of it before, or maybe he is almost obsessive over keeping himself clean and wearing some sort of perfume to distance himself as much as possible from that time? Or maybe he usually ensures he's clean at all times but occasionally struggles with it either during some period of time where he's completely focused on his work or when he's having an episode of a decline in his mental well-being

Maybe before durge disappeared he tended to have a bit of a more kept together appearance, but after durge vanished he found that he just no longer cared that much, or it felt more like a chore and he struggled to find the energy. So instead he just dived further into his work(probably not hard to do with him likely already being busier due to Orin and having more things to do in preparation for becoming archduke and reaching the last stages of the plan).

No cause you're so real for this. I think about this often cause like, this man is a Lord. He climbed the ranks by mingling and talking and socialising and manipulating. His image Should be his everything. And to a point, it is, because he wears these needlessly flashy clothes and accessories and holds himself up with so much confidence it's impossible not to find him impressive just by looking at him.

But then you look a bit closer and he's so unkempt? His stubble, his wild ass hair, his face looks like it hasn't been washed in days? And it's just., how did you become an archduke without paying attention to your appearance baby boy?

But then you think about it more and you realise he never had the LUXURY to care about basic hygiene because he was in constant survival mode since the moment he was born. Who cares about haircuts when you're struggling for your next meal? Who cares about washing up when you're going to get beaten to a bloody pulp anyway? Mf had to fight with teeth and claws to make a name for himself, I doubt hygiene was even on the top 20 things on his mind.

So I think there's two ways to interpret it. The more realistic approach is that he does not care, he cleans up when he's meeting someone important, just enough to keep up appearances but he never truly gets the hang of it because he simply never had the time to worry about it.

But personally I love the idea that as an adult, it does become an obsession, because finally he's reached his goals and he finally has the time and money to take proper care of himself. That he cleans his own clothes because he believes the servants are unclean, bathes twice a day with scorching water by scrubbing his body raw, wears gloves to protect himself against the germs he was forced to constantly be around in his younger years. He cannot stand the idea of being untidy because in his mind it's the same like being dirty, so his desk has to be perfect, his clothes have to be perfect, his chambers have to be perfect, and the moment anyone fucks up this careful environment he's built, he loses his shit. He reacts very strongly when Durge picks up dirt or blood and spreads it in his home, on his precious floors and carpets. He has to throw everything away and buy new, clean things every single time because he can afford to and otherwise he won't be able to sleep at night. It's an obsession, sure, but it's also a reminder that he's grown and got himself out of the shithole of poverty and enslavement. He holds power over his things, his body, his surroundings, and he'll do anything to keep it.

This interpretation also makes it all the more gut-wretching when his carefully built obsession starts slipping after Durge's disappearance. He no longer sees the point in putting so much energy in vanity or cleanliness, throws himself into work and work alone. He spends days building in his workshop and he doesn't even fucking care to wash away the oils and grease from the machines. He stops bathing, stops shaving, stops styling his hair, and it'd be super unnerving to watch him go from this perfect pillar of confidence to a sleep-deprived, dirty man in grief who has ran out of the energy to care.

(Both ideas work well with him drowning himself in his vanilla perfume also, either to cover up his stinky ass bc he Does Not Give a Shit or obsessively spraying himself every hour or so to smell as clean as he wants to feel)

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Joel Miller X Reader: The things we do for those we love.

Warning: descriptions of wounds, blood, killing, swearing, vomit, angst(very little), sleazy men, fighting, knifes, guns, violence, fluff...

Word count: 4K

Summary : You're not a violent person by nature but something seemed to change that. "The sound of Ellies panicked screams and Joel's voice calling out your name made something inside you snap."

You knew what anger did to a person. You’d watched Joel beat a man's face to a bloody pulp with only his fists. You’d seen the look on his face when Tess came back from a trade, her face beaten and bruised. You’d seen Ellie, a girl who was far too young to have lived through so much pain, pull a gun on a man to save Joel. You were surrounded by anger constantly yet you’d never found yourself succumbing to its effects. 

Joel normally takes on the role of unhinged killer. The calloused hands that held you through the dark hours of the night became more and more stained with blood the further you traveled. It’s not like you were useless. You’d killed before. When it came to surviving you did what you had to. But you weren’t like Joel. People didn’t fear you. 

While everyone in the QZ knew Joel to be a ruthless killer you were known as his kind hearted helper. The good cop to his bad cop if you will. You’d be the one to talk him into listening before resorting to violence. That didn’t mean you couldn’t be cruel when you needed to be. You’d show everyone that when a sleazy guy had come to make a deal with Joel. 

You sat by the wall staying behind Joel as the man attempted to get your partner to give him ration cards in exchange for some booze. It had been a while since you’d had a drink so the deal seemed rather good. You’d gotten out of your seat, making your way to the counter and glancing at the bottle. It was good shit. You wondered what this man had done to get his hands on something like this. Probably some deal with a Fedra agent. The man's eyes were glued to your frame, his lips curling up into a smile. He looked up at Joel moving closer to him.

“She’s a pretty thing ain’t she?”

Joel's jaw tightened at the comment, his gaze moving to look at you.

“How much for her?”

The man's words slurred together making it clear he wasn’t sober.  Despite his whispering you’d heard the way he spoke about you. Joel's hands clenched under the table. If this man had been insulting him his head would already be crushed on the pavement outside but he knew your rules. You’d made it clear to him that if someone messed with you he could only deal with them after your okay. You placed a hand on Joel's clenched fist under the counter, signaling that you’d handle this one. He hated it but followed your request, stepping back so you could come closer to the man on the other side of the counter. You batted your eyes seductively, hands tracing over the drawing in the wood counter. 

“You know it ain’t nice to talk about a woman behind her back.”

Your hands found the lapel of the man's shirt playing with the loose button as you leaned your face closer to his. 

“If you want something all you gotta do is ask.”

The man let out a grin. His breath reeked of alcohol. Your hand found its way into his hair tugging at his scalp as you smirked at him. He let out a groan.

“Ah so you like it rough hum pretty thing?”

You didn’t answer him, just kept on smiling and gripping at his hair. Joel struggled to stay in his spot, fingers itching to put this man in his place. But rules were rules. So he watched and waited to see what you would do.

“I can do rough.”

“Good.”

With that you back away slamming the man's head on the counter with as much force as you could. He let out a scream, his hands going to his nose. Blood gushed over his fingers.

“Fucking Bitch! You broke my fucking nose!”

You gave him a wolfish grin. The man launched forward, his hands grabbing onto your arms and tugging you over the counter. You let out a screech kicking him in the chest as you fought to get out of his grip. You caught Joel's eyes, moving a hand out to stop him.

“I got it!”

You pulled a blade from your hip, twisting it in your hands before rushing at the man. He tried to duck from your attack losing his footing as he made contact with the staircase that led up to your trading post. He fell backwards, rolling down the stairs and falling onto the pavement. You stood at the doorway, arms flexed slightly as you gripped onto your knife. His blood was smeared on your body in the place he had grabbed you making it clear there had been a struggle. The people outside looked down at the man and then up at you. 

“You ever come back here and I'll make sure a broken nose isn’t the only thing you walk out with.”

The man glanced around, hands going to his face again.

“You got that?!”

He stumbled to his feet, his eyes looking up at you in fear before he ran away.

“Crazy fucking bitch.”

You watched him run, your eyes following his fleeting frame before making eye contact with one of your regulars.

“Morning Susan!”

You gave the woman a smile which she returned with a hesitant wave. You placed your blade back on your hip, making your way back in. Joel was in the same place you’d left him in. You made your way to the counter grabbing the bottle of booze and placing it in a hidden cabinet. Joel followed you with his eyes. You walked past him, giving him a pat on the chest as you did.

“I’m gonna clean up. If anyone gives you trouble, deal with them however you please.”

“Doubt they’ll give any trouble after that.”

You laughed.

“You never know.”

You made your way up the stairs going to clean up when you heard Joel call your name. You turned from your spot to look at him.

“Good job.”

“I told you I had it, didn't i?”

“Yeah, I just didn’t knew you had it in you.”

“Neither did he. And look where that got him.”

Joel gave you a smile leaning against the wall as he watched you move out of view.

“One hell of a woman.”

No one messed with you after that day. The entire QZ heard the stories about how you’d gone feral on some guy who’d wronged you. People did love to exaggerate. You were glad for the peace it had caused. Unfortunately you weren’t in the QZ anymore. And the people out here didn’t even compare to that drunk.

These guys were savages. They killed because they liked it not because they needed to. Unfortunately the three of you had stumbled into the area they’d claimed as their turf. Giving them, in their minds, the right to attack you. Joel jumped into action ducking behind a table and shooting three of your attackers. Ellie crouched by you, her hands shaking as she held onto her gun. You clung to your own weapon, eyes shutting as bullets ricochet near you. You fumbled to reload your gun, cursing as it jammed. 

“Fucking piece of shit!”

“Take mine.”

Ellie handed you her gun but you refused.

“Keep it. You’ll need it in case we get separated.”

Ellie's eyes looked at you worriedly.

“It’s okay honey. I won’t let that happen, it's just a precaution.”

The young girl nodded at you ducking into your side as a bullet shot near you. You peaked up from your cover trying to find Joel. He was a couple feet away from you loading his own gun. You scanned the area between the two of you looking for any attackers. The coast seemed clear enough. You turned back to Ellie grabbing her hands in yours.

“I’m gonna need your help. I have to get to Joel. He has an extra gun he can give me but I need you to cover me okay?”

“O-okay.”

“Don’t worry there aren’t any guys around. All you have to do is stay here and shoot them if they show up. It’ll be quick. I promise.”

You could tell Ellie was nervous.

“Listen, I wouldn't ask you to do it if I didn't think you could. You the toughest fucking kid i know. I trust you.”

Ellie's eyes stared into yours, her gaze growing more confident with your words. 

“Okay. I’ll cover you.”

“Atta girl. On three, okay?”

She nodded, hands gripping her gun as you got ready to run. You counted down before racing to where Joel was. You threw your body against the table head turning to face Joel. He looked back at Ellie and then at you.

“My guns jammed. I need yours.”

“All I got is the pistol.”

“That’ll do.”

“It has three bullets.”

“Guess I'll have to aim for the head then.”

You smiled at your joke but Joel kept a stoney look. You placed your hand out waiting for Joel to give you his weapon. He let out a groan reaching into his back and pulling out his pistol. You turned to go back to Ellie but Joel grabbed onto your wrist. You turned to look at him.

“Be careful.”

“When am I not?”

“I mean it.”

You placed a peak on Joel's cheek removing his grip on your wrist.

“I’ll be careful if you are.”

Joel couldn’t promise you that. You knew it but you always made sure to remind him he was needed. You’d both lost too much. You couldn’t bear to lose each other. None of you had ever said it out loud but the message behind your words were clear. Don’t die on me too. Joel gave you a nod, glancing back to where Ellie had been.

“Where’s the kid?”

Your head snapped in Ellies direction just as you heard her scream.

“Shit. Cover me.”

You raced back to where you had been, your heart dropping as you noticed a trail of blood. You crouched down following the trail as quietly as you could. There was quite a lot of it making you think that whoever it belonged to was badly hurt. You hoped it wasn’t Ellie. Not only was she an important piece to finding a cure she was your responsibility and you’d promised her you’d protect her. Ellie let out another scream causing you to speed up your pace. You turned a corner, eyes catching the sight of Ellie. There were two men by her, one was standing with his leg gushing blood.

“Little bitch cut me.”

“That’s my girl.”

You looked at the man who was holding Ellie still, trying to figure out what kind of weapons he had on him. You stood up ready to charge at the two of them when someone grabbed you from behind. You struggled against their grip, hand moving to shoot them but they were faster. They grabbed your hand, hitting it against the wall and forcing you to let go of your gun. 

“Get off me!”

“Shut up!”

Your attacker covered your mouth muffling the sound of your screams. From where you stood you could see Joel on the other side. He had his back tuned to you not allowing him to see you or the man who was sneaking up behind him. Your eyes widened, desperately trying to call Joels name out to warn him.

“I said shut up!”

You groaned as your attacker hit your head against the wall, your vision blurring at the impact. Your eyes found Ellie, watching as she struggled against another man's grip. She stepped on his foot making him release her. She’d made it a couple of feet before someone tackled her. You heard Joel groan, eyes moving to look back at him. He was fighting against someone. The man had his blade close to Joel's shoulder trying to push it down as Joel held him away. The sound of Ellies panicked screams and Joel's voice calling out your name made something inside you snap. 

You bite into your attacker's hand causing him to release you. You pushed him off you reaching to grab the knife you’d seen clinging to his waist. Your body seemed to move by itself, your hand thrusting the blade into the man's chin with ease. Blood spilled against your hand as you retracted the weapon. It gushed onto your chest as the man fell forward. You stepped out of the way watching him fall down. You spun on your heels turning to face the place Ellie was. Your heart beat fast as you raced to her. 

“Man look out!”

It was too late, you'd already made your way to Ellies attacker pulling him off her and slitting his neck. The man's partner, the one who had tried to warn him of you, looked at you in terror, his hands fumbling to grab his gun. You were quicker, plowing into him like a wild animal. He struggled against you trying to hold your hands away from him.

“Please have mercy!”

“Screw mercy.”

You plunged your blade into his chest, right where his heart was. He coughed up blood as you twisted the blade, staining you in crimson. You stood up, glancing down at the man's frame as he stopped breathing. You heard a grunt from the other side of the wall reminding you of your partner. You ran to the window, your hands and legs snagging onto the broken glass as you jumped to the other side. Your blood oozed out of the small cuts that littered your body. You didn’t feel any pain. All you felt was rage. Joel didn’t couldn’t even tell you were near him until he saw the blade in his attacker's eye. The man's jaw slacked open into a scream as you dove the blade deeper forcing him to get off of Joel. Once he was on the floor you straddled him, removing your blade from his eye and jamming it into his chest over and over and over again. 

Ellie rushed over to where Joel was stopping abruptly once she saw you. Joel was on the ground a few steps away from you, his eyes glued to you. And then there was you. You looked insane. Eyes wide as you kept plunging your knife into the body beneath you. He was dead, it was clear from all the blood but you kept going. Ellie looked at Joel, searching for some sort of reassurance but found none. Joel was looking at you like a stranger. At one point you let out a scream.

“Stay the fuck away from them!”

Your arms burned from the strength you had used. Your clothes clung to your body due to the blood that covered them. You pulled the blade out of the man's chest breathing heavily as you continued to straddle him. Joel got up from where he was, moving towards you. He called out your name but you couldn’t hear him through the sound of your own heart beating in your skull. You felt someone touch you making you turn around. You had a snarl on your face, your hand gripping onto the blade for dear life. Joel grabbed your wrist before you could cut him.

“It’s alright. It’s over.”

Your eyes moved rapidly over Joel's face as your brain struggled to turn off the survival mode. Joel's hand made its way to your face removing the hair that stuck to your cheek before resting his hand against your face.

“It’s me darlin’. It’s just me.”

Your brows creased as you looked at him.

“Joel?”

“Yeah darlin’ I'm here.”

You glanced over Joel's shoulder, your eyes finding Ellie’s frame. She was staring at you. You expected her to be scared of you but something in her gaze told you otherwise.

“It’s okay Ellie. I took care of it.”

Ellies shoulder sagged at your words even after all that you were still making sure she knew she was safe. She made her way towards you leaning down near Joel. You smiled at her hands finding her face. She looked into your eyes.

“Did I scare you sweetie?”

“No.”

You had scared her but she didn’t want you knowing that. A part of her understood that it wasn’t just fear it also made her feel safe. Funny how two vastly different feelings could coincide. She’d experienced this feeling before. Back when Joel had beat up the Fedra agent for her. She liked feeling protected. Even if that meant people had to die. You removed your hand from her face, your palm marking her with blood. Your eyes widened at the sight of the red hand mark on Ellies face. For the first time you seemed to realize what had just happened. Ellie noticed the look in your face, her hand going to wipe at her cheek. She glanced down at the blood and then back at you.

“I’m sorry i-”

“No no it’s okay. It’s okay!”

You glanced down at your body, your nostrils picking up on the smell for the first time. You looked down and saw the mangled body beneath you. Your stomach churned at the sight. You leaned over as you threw up. 

“Oh shit.”

Ellie jumped back stumbling onto her feet. Joel grabbed your hair patting your back as you spilled your guts out. You spit coughing one last time as you finish. Surprisingly you felt a lot better. Joel called out your name, making you turn to him. He handed you a cloth to clean your face.

“Thanks.”

“You alright?”

“Yeah I think so.I’m just not used to so much…”

“I know. Come on, let's get out of here.”

Joel stood up, giving you his hand. You let him drag you up pulling you off of the dead body. You chucked the bloodied blade on the ground.

“I lost your gun.”

“It’s alright. Didn’t have any more bullets anyway.”

“Here.”

Joel turned to look at Ellie. She held her gun out to him. He looked at her for a moment before placing his hand over hers and pushing it against her chest.

“Thanks kid but that one's yours.”

Joel looked around letting go of your hand to grab a shotgun from one of the attackers bodies.

“Plus…”

He reloaded the gun making it let out a click.

“This one is more my style.”

 The three of you made your way out of the building. The sun was starting to go down which meant you needed to find a place to camp. You stumbled through the wood for a while before finding a stream. Joel had patrolled the area and decided it was safe enough to stay in. Once you had a fire going you made your way to the stream. You removed your clothes grimacing as you entered the cold water. You watched as the water around you turned a shade of red, the smell of blood overwhelming you once again. You sank into the water holding your breath for a while before popping back up. Joel watched you from a nearby rock. Ellie had fallen asleep near the fire curled up into a ball. You scrubbed at your body removing all the gunk and blood that had been on you. Now that you were clean you could tell how much damage you’d gone through. There were small gashes in random parts of your body, your knees were full of scratches and there were bruises on your arms from where your attackers had grabbed at you. You leaned into the water floating around for a moment. There was a splash near you making you open your eyes. You tilted your head to the side, finding Joel's frame in the dark. He waded his way through the water as he went towards you. You stood up, watching him move. When he got near enough he stopped. The older man looked at you admiring the way the fire lit up your face. You smiled at him, putting a hand out to him. He grabbed your hand pulling you flush against him. He could feel every part of your body pressed against him. If it had been another time he was sure the feeling of your naked frame would have him acting up but he wasn’t thinking about that right now. In that moment the only thing on his mind was the desire to keep you close. You snuggled into his bare chest inhaling the smell of dirt and leather. Joel caressed your head, his arm wrapping around your waist. You placed your chin against his chest looking up into his eyes. He looked tired. Or perhaps it was worry that made him look that way.

“What is it Joel?”

“Almost lost you today.”

“But you didn’t.”

“I could have. All because I wasn't paying attention.”

“Stop it Joel.”

The tone you used made him shut up. You placed a hand on his face, caressing his beard. Joel closed his eyes focusing on the feeling of your touch.

“You always protect me. I trust you with my life, you know that. But that doesn't mean you're the only one who's responsible for keeping me alive. That is my job. Just how having your back is.”

Joel leaned his head against yours

“Don’t know what i would have done.”

“Shh don’t think about what could have been. Focus on what is. Focus on me. Here. Alive. With you.”

Joel kissed you slowly, the feeling of your lips on his calming him down. You listened to the sound of the water around you and felt the smell of the wood burning a couple feet away as Joel kissed you. You hugged him swaying to the sound of the leaves for a while. You rose your head to look at Joel when he called your name.

“What is it?”

Joel chewed on the inside of his cheek. He knew he meant what he was about to say. He’d known for a long time. Just like he knew tha moment the words left his lips everything between you two would change. It scared him.

“Joel quite thinking about-”

“I love you.”

Your hand froze in midair pausing just millimeters away from Joel's face. His eyes scanned your face searching for any kind of repulsion in them. Your brain struggled to compute Joel's words. This big stoney man you'd met so long ago. The man you’d sacrifice yourself to save. The man you’d known you loved ever since he first lay his hands on your body. Had just told you he loved you and all you could do was stare at him. You felt Joel's body start to pull away from you. His movements snapped you back to reality. You laced your hand into his hair and pulled him down for a fierce kiss. When Joel pulled back to catch his breath you grinned up at him

“What was-”

“I love you too. I’ve always loved you.”

Joel cracked the biggest smile you're ever seen. He wrapped his arms around your legs, raising you into his body as he spun you around. The water splashed around you as you laughed. The sound of Joel's laughter sounded like music to your ears. For the longest time anger had lingered around you. Following you wherever you went. But in the moment the only thing you could feel was joy.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Arranged!verse Bruce Wayne, worst fundraising host ever. What would happen if at one of the events, criminals make their usual appearance, but he's not there, just the wife? it would be very traumatic

When a hand closed around your wrist and yanked you to your feet, you know. Deep down. That this is how you're going to die.

And somehow, you can't even feel anything about it. Just the racing of your heart and the pounding of blood in your ears drowning out all the sounds. And when they shove you into the back of a van, the rough carpet scraped the side of your jaw and the palms of your hands before your arms were ripped behind your back and secured with tape.

You were too stunned to cry. And you wonder if your father was getting rid of you- you might be his only daughter. His only shot at getting the legitimacy that the last name Wayne could give him but. That didn't mean he wouldn't have you removed if he could make it work any way. The thought makes your blood run cold.

But these don't look like his men. Any of his men.

"Be a good girl," one of them chuckled, jabbing a needle into the meat of your thigh. "Just don't struggle and you'll be home before you know it."

___________

"Mrs. Wayne," Gordon said contritely, offering you a cup of soda- something with sugar in it. Something to help with shock. "I'm sorry but your husband is... out for the evening and no one seems to know where he is."

"It's not your fault," you tell him, swallowing hard and taking a sip from the cup with a wince. Too sweet. So sweet your teeth hurt.

"Alfred is coming to pick you up," he said.

You nod wordlessly and try to smile but your face hurts and you think you might still be drugged. Everything is so slow. Like time had slowed down.

Gordon wanted to hug you. You just looked... lost. And he wondered where your father was- no one had been able to get him to answer a phone. And he was angry on your behalf. Someone should be here. You had a husband. You had a father. Hell, you had a brother and a mother. Why was no one worried sick? And when you shiver, despite the blanket an EMT had handed to you, he took off his jacket and draped it around your shoulders. "Are you sure you don't want to go to the hospital?"

"I'm fine," you murmur. "I'm just tired and I'd like to go home."

Gordon nodded. Staying close to you. Issuing marching orders to his officers until he saw Alfred weaving his way through the crowd.

"Thank god you're alright," Alfred said exhaling. He'd seen the news. He'd seen Bruce peel out of the batcave. But knowing you were going to be rescued didn't mean much until he saw you. Obviously still drugged, but not beaten to a bloody pulp. You had a few bruises and scrapes but nothing too serious if you weren't en route to the hospital.

"I'm I- I'm f-fine," you manage around a shiver. "Just desperately tired."

"Of course," he said keeping his voice gentle. "Let's get you home, ma'am."

You nod and turn to Gordon, carefully handing him his jacket back, "Thank you," you tell him.

"Let's try not to make it a habit," Gordon said accepting his jacket with a small smile.

"I really hope not," you agree, letting Alfred take your arm to take you to the car.

____________

Bruce watched Alfred escort you to the car from the rooftop. Waiting. Wanting to make sure you were taken to the car and seen home safely before he left.

You'd been so still.

At first he thought you were dead. And he'd been... terrified. And furious. But when he patted your cheek and you looked up at him bleary-eyed and confused, he was relieved.

Tomorrow, Bruce Wayne would bring you flowers and apologize for not coming with you. But Tonight, Batman had work to do.

[doberbutts]

I just wanted to say thank you for the post about the safety precautions video. I take a lot of similar precautions (I have the same portable door lock) because of my PTSD and OCD and the fact my abuser knows where I live. I even have an emergency escape plan out a window and onto the roof! I live in a really poor area with a lot of violence, there's been three murders on this street in the last couple years and our cars been vandalised recently. I know what people are *trying* to make a point about in that post, but it does make me feel bad seeing such overt mocking. So I really appreciate you pointing out so much of this can also come from genuine trauma not just "watching too much true crime"! I hope you have a good day 💖

Yeah it's always obvious to me that the folks who think some of this stuff is silly or overkill have never really lived through a situation where that could have been a life or death thing. Which, honestly, that's great for them! I wish everyone could live somewhere that they did not have to fear break-ins and active threats on their lives! But that's also unfortunately not where everyone lives and that does include white people (although the point about it being weaponized unfairly against people of color, poor people, and disabled people, the populations that are the most at risk of this type of violence, is also extremely valid)

It's similar to my discussion about weapons, arming yourself, and self-defense. It is all good to say that most people in this country will never actually need to defend themselves from this type of harm. It's also untrue to say that it never happens, because it has happened to me, it has happened to my friends, and it has happened to people I know even only tangentially.

I have a doberman in part because I want a dog that has a fairly decent chance of biting the fuck out of someone who breaks in to hurt me. I carry a weapon everywhere and I took a fairly serious self-defense class. Why? Because when I was in college, a drunk man repeatedly tried to break in while I was sleeping and I have no idea if he would have hurt me if that door had actually opened. My parents' house was broken into while we were home when I was still a child, and my sister was sitting only a few feet from the door when it swung open. Between her scream and our dog coming barreling down the stairs at him, he chose to flee, but what if he hadn't? What if she'd been in bed like the rest of us were, away from the door? What if we hadn't had the dog, or if she hadn't heard my sister and come charging in ready to defend her family?

Someone broke into my mom's dorm when she was in college and stood next to her bed touching himself. He did not ever touch her, and she reported it the next morning, after laying awake frozen in fear all night about what could have happened. Multiple someones broke into my aunt's dorm at a completely different college and did touch her, for hours, and she was found the next morning as a beaten and bloody whimpering mess. My aunt has severe PTSD and was diagnosed with schizophrenia shortly after. She never had symptoms before, but now she sees those men everywhere she goes. My other sister was beaten to a bloody pulp by her former partner and spent many years looking over her shoulder expecting to see him reappear. My dad was shot in the arm just walking down the street from his mom's house to his school due to gang violence and watched a man die on the same block as his mama's doorstep, and now has a ritual every night of checking each and every door and window despite living more than two hours away from that neighborhood 40 years later.

I am glad that so many people have never had to consider protecting themselves from this kind of violence. I am glad that the crime statistics say that this type of violence is becoming more and more uncommon. I am still going to lock my house up and install security measures and keep a weapon on me and know how to defend myself with it and teach my dog to bite the fuck out of anyone who walks through that door. Mostly because I remember being a terrified teenager holding the hammer out of my toolbox to my chest and staring at my fire escape door until the banging stopped at 3 AM.

[redhead-batgal]

I hope you do oh miss believer part 3 sometime soon! It’s ok if you’re not feeling that story anymore tho <3

Type: Fic

Part One: Here, Part Two: Here

Pairing: Fem! Vigilante! And Meta! Reader x Damian Wayne/ Robin

Content: Violence, language, flash backs, depressive thoughts, angst, and aged up Damian/reader to 16/17 yrs old

Word Count: 2,573

(P.S: Soooo I can try to write a reaction of the bat fam to the end of part one, or I can write the next part of this one next time. Let me know what y'all want in the comments please! also get ready for some fun angsty angsty times)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There are many things in this world that seem unnatural. Paradoxes or impossibilities. People tend to fear the unnatural, to ostracize it and even harm it. Regardless of whether or not said impossible and unnatural thing is living- regardless of if it's human.

To humanity, unnatural things were to be feared and destroyed. They were threats, in a way, to the "peaceful" society that had been created through blood shed and inequality. A society that has classes and impoverished people, that kept growing and growing; saw things they deemed unnatural, not worthy of life. Why is that? Why does such a society fear so greatly the unnatural, the unknown and impossible?

It seemed to you that they feared the unnatural because of the power mystery gave it. Because what they do not know, they cannot control. And if they can't control something, it cannot be a part of society. Which unfortunately meant you were left on your own; fighting to survive against an environment that deemed you a danger. Even more unfortunately, for society at least, you had bad habit of becoming everything everyone feared you'd be.

An unnatural danger, set on destroy the society that cast it out.

How very, very natural, right?

You could still remember the very first time someone deemed you unnatural- unworthy of comfort in this shitty shitty world.

You must have been no older then six, out scrounging on the streets for pity coin you could use to help your parents out. A rattied hat made from old newspaper by your side as you made your misty and small illusions appear. Desperate for anyone to take an interest. Unsurprisingly, the person who did was anything but kind and far from merciful.

The small boy had shouted at you, laughed, sneered and beaten you to a bloodied pulp. Stealing all of the meager change you had managed to earn as he called you a witch over his shoulder bolting away.

While this was your first actual encounter with such people, you were not surprised. Your mother had warned you of such people.

"Vicious monsters," She had said beginning to explain why you had to be careful in the world, "they like to prey upon those they deem weaker, those who they think are unnatural and strange."

She shook her head as she continued to knit, though somewhat sloppily, "They don't like people who they can't control, they don't like that you're different."

You looked up at her with wide eyes as you tilted your head and she paused. She let out a soft sigh before setting down her knitting and pulling you into her arms.

"My sweet little miss believer, this world is going to be cruel to you simply because you exist. There's nothing your father or I can do to stop it other then pulling you in close like this and letting you know they are wrong."

She rested your head against her chest as she began to rock slightly squeezing you in her arms as she softly began to hum.

"They are wrong because you are a darling gem. A wise and wonderful girl who should not let the world push you down."

Cupping your face in her hands she smiled, tears lining her eyes, "You are my little miss believer, you know many things and have such faith. Do not allow these people to cause you to lose that faith. Faith in your father and I, faith in humanity, faith in your own skills or just merely faith in yourself."

Her words rang far too deep into the truth. Scars, both physical and emotions covered your body the older you got. But you still had your mother and father there, to nurse your spirit back to its brightness... until you didn't anymore.

The night was dark and growing colder and colder by the minute. Your father had disappeared merely a week before and you did not plan on letting him stay gone without answers.

Lurking around the usual street corners you heard the crackling of thunder and through the dense musty smell of Gotham's streets, you could smell rain. Sweet and clear, dancing in the clouds yearning to be released. Pulling your jacket in closer, you slipped down an alleyway, hoping to find answers and remain unseen. After all you had a reputation for causing trouble amongst the rouges and criminals, and tonight was the last night you needed trouble to catch you once again.

Though you had not heard of any rogues causing any chaos, you knew better then to trust the night would remain silent. It's current silence sent shivers down your spine. Silence was a deadly tool, used to confused and trick the naive into false senses of security. It was a tool you yourself had used and yet- something about tonight's silence made you on edge.

Looking around you almost sensed danger as the hairs on your arms stood on edge. Your heart racing as the silence screamed into your mind. Just as you had settled with yourself to finally venture home, a hand clamped down on your shoulder.

A shriek of sorts almost escaped you and you turned to find your fuming mother.

"Y/n! I thought I told you to be home before eleven?"

Though startled you merely blinked, allowing your mother to drag you back down the alleyway, towards the way home. Your heart hammered in your chest. Regardless of all your broken promises to come home on time, your mother had never- ever come out looking for you.

"Mom," You said, finally finding your voice, "what are you doing out here?!"

Your mother froze tilting her head a scowl of sorts on her face with dropped almost instantly. She let go of your hand and slowed to a stop, looking you over she sighed, taking a moment to tuck your hair behind your ear.

"I was worried, I heard that one of the nastier rouges was out tonight and I didn't want you to be out."

At first a wave of warmth washed over you. It, however, turned icy cold as you processed the rest of your mother's sentence.

'One of the nastier rouges'

Your heart skipped a beat and you grasped onto your mother's hand. Swallowing you met her gaze and forced a slow breath out.

"Mom, which one did you hear was out?"

It took her a moment to reply, as her brow furrowed, and she squeezed your hand.

"The Joker."

Your heart actually stopped, you struggled to breath as news reports and alley whispers raced over your mind.

"I heard that the bats pissed joker off so he's shooting for a big one this time."

"I heard that he lost Batman's attention and wants it back."

"Well, I heard that he's finally sick of his cat and mouse game and plans on taking as many civilians as possible with him when he goes."

Finally breathing again, you pulled your mother forward. Heart racing as your mind screamed to run. Your legs began to pump, your mother stumbling to keep up behind you her soft protests barely catching your ears.

"Shit- oh shit, mom we've gotta go."

You had just come up on a corner, knowing once you went down the alley just by here, you'd be two blocks from your complex. It didn't help though, your heart hammered to quickly you could hear your own heartbeat without even thinking about it.

"What? Honey," Your mom began shaking her head and causing you to stop, "it's fine we're almost home and-"

Your mouth began moving before you could stop yourself and you began pulling her again, finally rounding the corner, "No mom you don't understand this guy has been amping up his attacks recently and-"

Just as you did you came face to face with a goon in white makeup and a sinister red smile. He raised something strange, and time seemed to slow as you heard him pressing on a trigger.

"Y/N!" Your mother's shout echoed in your ears as she shoved you to the side.

You tumbled towards the ground screams ripping from you as you watched a fine mist encompass her entire face, "MOM NO!"

The mist faded as a blurry figure slammed the goon into the ground. Your mother slumped slightly as you darted to her side, her body shook, and you looked her over trying to find any damage only to hear a bone chilling sound.

"Ha-ha-ha."

You trembled as your mother raised her head, a large sinisterly familiar smile on her face.

"Mommy? Mommy, no. Please, no. NO!"

A jolt of sorts raced through you as you opened your eyes. A bright light slamming straight into them and sending spots racing across your vision.

"Aw, look," A mocking voice began, "our little Houdini's finally awake."

A piercing ache began at the base of your skull as you forced yourself to sit up. Faintly recalling your last moments, as rain poured down and you made the choice to finally let go.

Blinking you pressed a hand to your face, a sloshing of sorts following you as you found yourself immersed in a small pool of greenish water. Wincing you tried to look around the room- to understand where you were and what was going on.

Your eyes slowly adjusted, revealing that you were in a small cavern of sorts. A woman in a strange outfit stood nearby as a man in a dark clothing loomed over you. You watched as the woman motioned at someone just beyond your view muttering things you could not here.

"Hello there little one," the man began capturing your attention, "I am glad to see you're awake."

You swallowed feeling the headache fade slightly as you shifted. These people and this place did not seem familiar. You too a slow breath looking down to see your own hands and body before looking back up.

"Who are you?" You whispered, your voice cracking, throat dry and aching.

The man smiled, but something about it made you uneasy. He merely stared at you, replying, "A doctor of sorts."

You paused furrowing your brow, "So I'm not dead?"

The man- doctor- whatever he was laughed as he took a step back. Making temporary eye contact with the woman behind him. She had an odd look about her and you could have sworn you spotted a cat like mask before the man captured your attention again.

"How are you feeling?"

"Like shit," You replied wincing again as you stepped out of the pool rising to your feet, "is that normal?"

He tilted his head, "In a sense yes."

His short responses had your mind racing, he was being so vague and something- something about all of this just seemed off.

"Uh okay. Then is fine to assume I'll get better right?"

The man nodded as the woman smiled at you. You narrowed your eyes still not entirely understanding what was going on or what had happened. You were sure that the fall would have killed you and- and you could still remember the impact.

"Wha-" You began as a wave of defenseness washed over you, "what is going on?"

"Whatever do you mean little Houdini?" The woman asked her eyes glinting.

"Who are you? Where am I? How am I still alive? And what the fuck happened?"

Your demand echoed in the cave like chamber causing the woman to smile even more. She even began to laugh and the man stepped in-between the two of you.

"Just please calm yourself, Y/N L/N. All will be explained soon."

You locked your jaw, a buzzing of sorts climbing up your chest as you began to grind your teeth. Tingles raced across your hand, a tell tale sign your body yearned to release some engery. To produce the false images and twist the illusions into exsistance.

"When?"

The man paused before the sound of footsteps approached. He went still and so did the woman behind him. A wave of fury rose up in your chest, were you such a fuck up you even fucked up dying? Was it possible that something else was going on? Regardless of your current internal turmoil you needed answers.

"Would someone please answer my fucking questions?!"

Just as your frustrated shout escaped a new woman walked into the room. She breezed past the first and stopped right in front of you. Allowing you to get a good look of her and a better grasp of the situation. She was dressed in a green and gold trimmed dress, her dark brown hair spilling around her face, dark skin and sharp bone structure that screamed Arabic descent. And her eyes, her bright- familiar green eyes stared at you with a curious gaze.

"I would be happy to, Y/N."

Something about her- whether be her eyes, her voice or face- something seemed familiar- so familiar you let your guard down.

"Where am I?"

The woman smiled, "Safe in my home."

It wasn't entirely a bad answer, but once again a vague one. And despite your concerns on where you were at you had to know one thing.

"How did I survive that fall? I just can't wrap my head around it."

The woman went still before she softly laughed moving a bit closer to you, "You didn't."

You froze as you answer caused your breath to stop, "What?"

"You didn't survive. In fact, that fall killed you, you died."

"But- wha- how? Am, am I dead?"

"Not anymore, but you were."

"I was- what do you mean I was dead? How can that be possible?"

The woman's smile deepened, and she took a step even closer, "You're not asking the right questions."

Grinding your teeth, you met her gaze and raised your chin frustration and desperation climbing up your throat, "Fine, who are you then?"

"Much better, I am Talia."

Something about that name set off warning bells in your head and your stiffened, allowing your guard to rise as you eyed the woman.

"Where am I? I want specifics."

"The league."

Your blood went cold as a realization began to dawn on you, "The league?"

"Yes, the league; assassins, shadows, what have you. You, are at one of the bases for the League."

"And- and-"

"I am Talia Al Ghul, and I brought you back to life."

You went still as everything began to click into place. The green water, the man and woman nearby, the vagueness- how you are alive, and you looked at Talia swallowing. The familiarity. This was Damian's mother, the person who you died trying to run from.

"You brought me back with the pit?" You whispered your voice trembling and cracking.

"Unbeknown to my beloved, son and the rest of his rabble, yes... so any more questions?"

You swallowed as your world began to scream and burn as it crashed down. They- they thought- no they knew you had died and- and no one would come save you this time. You were on your own you were alone.

You shook your head, refusing to let your voice tremble, "No."

"Good, because I have a lot of work for you..." Talia paused looking over her shoulder to the other woman, "what did cheshire call you? Ah, yes. Little Houdini."

Digging your nails into your palm you tried to calm your breathing as Talia tucked your hair behind your ear smiling.

"Let's get to work my Little Houdini."

Tag List:

@andromedaj2003 @thomasbeloved @instabull @zvtanna @daemonnix96 @krswrites @thefallingstarlights @masset-fotia @rrowwii @ssak-i @legendarylearner18

[glitch-but-ya]

The hearth that burns through the winter’s frost.

Featuring: Wriothesley

Tags: Angst, backstory, sfw, headcanon, reader isn’t mentioned, drabble, no ships, Sigewinne mentioned

TW: Mentions/descriptions of blood and gore, violence, mentions of death and murder

Summary: Memories from the past resurface in the duke’s mind every now and then. On frosty nights like this, Wriothesley is reminded of the fire from which he was born anew, and the bloody past he is now forced to put behind him. Although, luckily for him, this time, he does not have to bear his burdens alone.

!!Spoiler warnings for Wriothesley’s backstory and story quest!!

Wriothesley was used to the cold. For the longest time, the cold was all he knew. The sheer emptiness of winter resonated with him in a way he would have never anticipated. The roaring frost that froze his heart, the perilous blizzards that screeched and howled, and the stillness of it all after the storm had passed. His love for winter was not misplaced. Winter was a reflection of the cycles of his life. From the moment he was abandoned as a child to the blood-stained podium he stands on today, everything in his life was foretold by the vindictive rhythm of winter. And it was only now that he regained some control of his life.

The one thing Wriothesley could not foretell was his future. How can a boy unwanted by his own parents at birth ever experience the warmth that is love? He believed he wasn’t worthy of it. His hands were coated with crimson. And no matter how hard he rubbed, the blood wouldn’t come off. How could a man like him—an ex-convict, a criminal, and a murderer—ever be chosen and cared for? He was sure that the lack of love he’d grown up with would accompany him on his journey and lie with him on his deathbed.

The first person to shatter his belief was the head nurse. The adorable and juvenile-looking Melusine that had secrets of her own and a past as concealed and dark as his. Wriothesley was only a boy when he first met her. It had been an inevitable meeting, and a horrible setting for a first-time encounter. With a busted knee and bearing one of the many visible scars he now has across his neck, he limped into Sigewinne’s office helplessly. He remembers the way Sigewinne’s countenance distorted: the way her nose scrunched, her pupils contracted, and the mournful noise that escaped her lips.

It was a normal reaction. Anyone who had the honor of witnessing a child half beaten to a pulp would react in the same way. Perhaps, they would react even more dramatically.

The next series of events unfolded swiftly and remain a blur in Wriothesley’s fading memory. But from the fragmented memories scattered about, he can recall the desperation in Sigewinne’s voice. “My goodness, he is a child!” she cried. The worried scoldings and swift dragging about soon followed. And when he reopened his eyes, he was born anew with a wretched scar trailing down his neck up to his chest.

Then began the interrogations, to which Wriothesley had not responded in kind. He admits now, looking back, the harsh verbiage he used was quite immature and indecent of him. But to his defense, how could a delinquent like him know of decency? Throwing his fists was all they taught the children on the streets. It was a cold reality he was forced to adapt to after escaping his home. There, he learned how to pick fights and how to construct weapons from scratch.

That was the life he belonged to. That was the life he deserved.

But then why was she looking at him with those eyes? Why did she take all his words and not fight back? Why did her head droop with shame, as if the sight before her was the most miserable she’d ever seen? Wriothesley couldn’t understand why the Melusine cared so much. He was an orphaned kid, bound to a life of violence and fated to an abrupt end in a dark, cold alley, all alone. He’d never seen someone cry over scrap metal.

Sigewinne gently wrapped the cast around his knee, her eyes never leaving his face. “What are you in for?” she inquired. Wriothesley turned his head away. “Murder,” he replied, “killed my parents.” Contrary to the reaction he’d expected, Sigewinne said nothing. He studied her face for a moment, checking for any signs of disgust or disdain. But he found nothing. She simply continued to tighten the cast around his knee.

After what felt like a decade, Sigewinne looked up at the boy. “Why?”

“Why would I tell you?” he scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. “What’s in it for me?”

“The boy that picked on you. He was a former patient of mine. An unruly one at best.” With newfound sincerity, she gazed deep into Wriothesley’s pale blue eyes. “I’ll bring him to justice. I will make sure he is punished.”

A secret Sigewinne would never tell Wriothesley was that her offer held two purposes. One, to deliver justice where justice was due, and two, to ensure that the boy before her did not go down a dangerous path in search of vengeance. It was only after Wriothesley had become the Duke that he finally understood the double meaning behind her actions.

The offer seemed to tempt the boy. “Fine,” he muttered. “But if you go back on your word, I will make sure you meet your end.” To his threat, Sigewinne only giggled. “Sure, it’s a deal, then.”

From that day onwards, the little Melusine never left Wriothesley’s side. She would watch from afar as he hammered the crooked contraption, beads of sweat trickling down his forehead. He knew she was watching, and his attempts at scaring her away sparked the same results. Sigewinne was persistent; that he could tell. Though his predeveloped mind could not fathom why she cared.

Eventually, she left him no choice but to resign himself. And so, Sigewinne became a vital part of young Wriothesley’s everyday life. When he had overworked himself, she would appear, clutching one of her disgusting milkshakes. Every time someone bigger dared to pick on him, she would barge in and break up the fight. And when he grew strong enough to fight in the ring, Sigewinne would be there, standing by the entrance and patiently waiting for him the moment his match ended.

Wriothesley grew up with her. She was a mother to him, despite her small, childlike appearance. Sigewinne raised him, and Wriothesley is forever indebted to her for the selfless care she had shown him all his life in the Fortress.

Even when Wriothesley overtook the Fortress of Meropide, Sigewinne stayed. And to repay her for her years’ worth of kindness, he built Sigewinne her own office—a place where she could change more lives, just as she’d changed his.

Wriothesley held a new belief now. The belief that Sigewinne would be his first and last friend. The belief that his position as a Duke would not attract any more unfortunate people. And alas, his belief was shattered as a flock of people stormed into his heart, desperately chipping away the frost that concealed it.

Perhaps, he did not need to hide any longer. It’s still a thought in its early stages—a thought that required more consideration. But for now, he cannot deny the warmth that began to slowly emerge. Like a bucket of paint splashed across the frames of his monochromatic life, colors suddenly sprang free, and life bloomed. There are parts of him that have not yet (and cannot) be defrosted. But they will learn. The flowers will learn to live in harmony with the ice. The winters will still persist, and spring must harmonize with it.

Despite all that, Wriothesley knows that if he were ever to fall, there would be people to push him back on his feet.

For now, though, he’d like to sit back and enjoy the warmth of the hearth that burns through winter’s frost.

[otherworldlyhope]

like memories of dying days

My piece for Febuwhump Day 7: Suffering in Silence

Aka, 2 times Scar suffers in silence, and 1 time he doesn't

Words: 3,426 CW: injury, life series deaths/injuries

The first night Scar wakes up back in Hermitcraft, he’s in pain. A broken, raw cry of hurt leaves his mouth as he tries to pull himself into a sitting position. He ends up staying down, the searing pain cutting across his whole body leaving him unable to even turn his head, let alone sit.

All he can think about is his final moments in the desert. His friend, the only person he felt he could trust, had beaten him to a bloody pulp in the warm sands. It’s disorienting to think about really. And sure, maybe he purposely missed a few punches, and maybe he let himself trip. But there had been very little hesitation from the avian when killing him. 

He can feel every punch, every kick, and every mark lining his body as he lays pitifully on his bed. Not only can he feel them, he can remember them vividly. The way Grian had broken his ribs, how a well placed kick had sent him slamming against Pizza’s grave (that might have hurt the worst, for multiple reasons), how the avian’s fingers fit so perfectly around his neck. Not to hold him, and pull him closer, but instead to squeeze the life out of him.

Slowly he cracks his eyes open, and he can recognize the room he’s in, and he’s almost disappointed. His room smells of dark oak and roses. It’s a scent he had curated specifically to comfort him when we woke from nightmares. 

It doesn’t comfort him now, but probably because what he’s woken up from is worse than a nightmare in a lot of ways. 

Strangely enough, the only comforting thing in the room is the sand falling from his clothes onto his covers. He used to hate the sand. It would find its way into every single crevice of his clothes and skin. Near the end of it all he almost enjoyed the sand, especially when they finally left the desert to fight the final battle. The sand had been his only reminder of his home. 

The home that he died at. The home where Pizza died, it was only fitting really. 

With ragged and uneven breaths, Scar swings his legs over the edge of the bed, pulling himself into a semblance of a sitting position. Every movement brings intense pain that has him holding back tears. 

He’s barely up when there’s a pounding on his door. Out of pure instinct he pulls his sword from his inventory and points it at the entrance to his bedroom. His hands are shaking with the weight despite the months of wielding it before. He hates it.

“Scar?” He knows that voice, at least he should know it. In another life, well maybe this life. That’s right, he’s on Hermitcraft, this is one of his friends. “Scar, are you in there buddy?”

It takes effort to clear his throat. Even now it feels like there are hands pressing against his airway, keeping him from taking a single breath. 

“Yeah I-” His voice sounds so impossibly weak that it breaks his heart. He has to put so much more effort into putting that chipper attitude back into his tone. Even when he does, it sounds wrong. “I’m in my room Mumbo, come on in!”

Mumbo seems out of breath when he shows up at Scar’s door. His usually impeccable hair is an absolute mess, the lines of his suit wrinkled and off. The man looks at the sword still clutched in Scar’s hand, a flash of nervousness crossing his features. Scar slowly puts it on the bed near him, keeping it within reach just in case. 

You never know when someone could come in and kill you. Better safe than sorry and all that. 

“You look awful Mumbo.” Scar laughs, and it doesn’t sound quite right. He needs to fix that soon. “You slept at all lately?”

Mumbo runs a hand over his face, stopping to pull a stray hair from his mustache down. There’s a disbelief in his eyes that almost cracks Scar up. Almost.

“Where have you been?” You look like you’re about to pass out. What’s up with the sword?” Mumbo asks question after question that Scar can’t even imagine answering. 

Instead he discreetly pulls his hands to his ribs and holds them. The pain lessens some at that, and he’s able to manage his facial expressions much better. Scar gives half answers here and there while trying not to actively yell out in pain. It works quite well actually.

When Grian joins the server, Mumbo leaves him alone. He likes it better that way. All desire to even sit is dashed from his mind. Instead he lays back down, pulling his covers tightly over him. It cradles his broken body, and it’s the only comfort he feels at that moment. And when he falls asleep the nightmares that greet him are almost welcome.

In the weeks that follow he doesn’t tell anyone about that final fight, and neither does Grian. All people know is that Grian won, and Scar didn’t. They don't comment about the fading bruises lining his skin, accompanying his scars.

They don't say anything about how the flowery spread of purple across his throat looks suspiciously like handprints. How they’re just small enough to only belong to a few people, and all the rest were long dead at that point.

Scar doesn’t say a single word about third life, or about the pain he feels every moment of every day. They don't need to know. It’s fine.

~ ~ ~ 

Coming to in Hermitcraft after last life is no less jarring than the first time. This time he wakes up to the moving machinery of the Swaggon, the smell of oil motor oil overwhelming his senses for a few blissful seconds. Then the pain hits, and it hits. 

At least this time it’s pinpointed to a singular spot. The arrow through his heart isn’t nearly as painful as the first time around. It still hurts though, a sharp cutting pain as opposed to the searing, continual pain before. 

When he finally is able to pull his shirt up and see the damage, it looks smaller than he remembered the arrowhead being. There’s a blood red mark that makes Scar light headed every time he comes close to touching it. 

Unlike third life, nobody comes to him when he gets back. It’s almost ironic, he was alone in last life, and he’s now alone on Hermitcraft. It had almost crushed him back then, the isolation. He had tried, desperately, to make friends, but it never worked out for him. In fact it seemed to only make him more enemies in the end.

The worst part of it all was the avian that he considered one of his greatest friends. They had just gotten back to being normal on Hermitcraft when suddenly they were put in another death game.

Grian had avoided him immediately, only talking to him to con him out of a precious life. It made sense, but it hurt in a way that Scar couldn’t describe. Like a hole in his already broken heart. They barely crossed paths during the game, and when they did Grian was unbelievably cruel. 

It wasn’t like Scar was expecting to be allies again or anything, but the cold disdain that Grian showed him was almost too much to bear. He had eventually gotten used to it like he had once gotten used to the sand in his hair. Didn’t mean he viewed it fondly though.

Once again he stays quiet about the pain he went through in last life. When people ask about his death, he simply explains that Ren got him. Even when the pain from the arrow fades and life settles, there's an echo in his heart of what happened. 

Maybe one day he’ll be able to say something to someone, but it’s not any time soon.

~ ~ ~ 

Scar has never been so excited and also terrified in his life. 

He’s excited because he’s always wanted this in a way. Having Grian bound to him like this is a perfect chance to finally understand him. He once thought he knew Grian like the back of his hand. In a world full of sunshine and sand Grian had been his best friend, his partner. The only person he trusted in a place full of paranoia and traitors.

They had been everything. And then nothing. 

The second their hearts were synced, Scar didn’t care much about finding his soulmate. Nobody wanted to be around him in last life, so they didn’t deserve to be around him now. He was sure he wouldn’t be the only one that ended up alone. He had a plan though, the Jellies. They would be his soulmate, they were all he needed.

He knew his soulmate was Grian the second he saw him flinch when Scar accidentally twisted his ankle. In that very moment he decided he wouldn’t even acknowledge it. Grian and the others could think he was stupid all they wanted, he really didn’t care. It’s not like they thought he was the smartest anyways. He didn’t mind it though, it made them much more susceptible to whatever tricks he wanted to pull.

Like always, Grian found a way to ruin Scar’s plans. At one point he used to love it, now he can only force a smile and pretend to ignore the way Grian rolls his eyes at the fakeness of it. It’s getting easier now, to fake being happy around others. Unfortunately, with his heart being perfectly timed with Grian’s, the avian can hear the way it stumbles at every lie. 

Grian himself is still as hard to read as before. Maybe even harder. Scar has seen him with BigB, has noticed the way Grian brushes Scar’s concerns away. His heart is always steady, and Scar can’t discern a single thing from the avian. 

And that’s exactly why he’s terrified. He can’t let Grian know him the way he used to. It just feels wrong.

It’s almost like those old days, but at the same time, it’s completely different. Scar had once been an open book to Grian, now he’s attempting to keep himself as closed off as possible. It’s come with its challenges, but it shouldn’t be for much longer. They’re on red now, and soon the game will be over. 

They’ll go back to Hermitcraft and pretend like nothing’s wrong all over again. They’ll base by each other, play pranks, and refuse to acknowledge the toll these death games have on them just like usual. 

It’s nights like these that Scar wishes he could be in the desert all over again. The velvet keep is cold, colder than the sands ever were. Grian is tucked against the wall, pressed as far away from Scar as he can be on the shared bed. Scar had protested it, but Grian insisted on it for safety. 

It doesn’t make Scar feel any safer.

It’s barely been half an hour since they’ve laid down for the night and Grian is already out. It’s the only time Scar can see a semblance of peace on the avian’s face. His mouth is slightly open, his heart steadily beating in his chest. 

Once he’s sure that Grian is fully asleep, he rises from the bed. The avian barely twitches in his sleep, but Scar can feel how his heart stays at the same pace. He slowly tucks the blanket over Grian’s shoulders and stares down at the small figure barely taking up half of the bed.

He almost wants to climb back into that bed and pull Grian to his chest like he did those cold nights in the desert. Grian would usually complain and whine a bit, but Scar could always tell he appreciated it. After third life he struggled to sleep alone for weeks. Last life knocked that problem right out for him though.

The thought gets him to tear his eyes away from the bed and forces him to step away. Now that Grian is asleep he can finally treat his burns without the avian fussing over him. He’s been pretending to be alright all day, and he knows that Grian saw right through it. Still, he didn’t do anything, and Scar didn’t say a word.

The whole thing had been stupid in the first place. He should have seen the trap coming from a mile away, but he was still a little disoriented from Ren’s attack the night before. At least that’s what he tells himself.

He can still hear Joel’s piercing laughter as there was a shock of white hot pain, and then nothing. Death was never fun in these games, and it was all too familiar to his very first death ever. That had been completely different though, and Scar doesn’t enjoy settling on those thoughts.

Instead he goes to the chests and finds himself all the necessary supplies. After a quick hike up the stairs he finds himself on the rooftop of the keep. His legs dangle over the side as he prepares himself for the absolute agony he’s about to endure. 

Even unbuttoning his shirt has him cringing. The burned skin sticks to the fabric and rips away with every pull of the shirt. Still he has to get it off, and so he pulls it quickly like a bandaid. A raw scream of agony leaves him as he hunches over himself, black spots crowding his vision. 

Void, this is going to hurt so much worse than he was expecting. 

Before he can even think about cleaning the burns, there’s steps on the stairs. Scar summons his sword, unsure who the intruder is. Even though he’s in intense pain, he’s going to fight tooth and nail for his last remaining life.

The second he sees the edge of feathers from around the stairwell the sword disappears. He shamefully turns his head down, making sure his tone is just right.

“Sorry if I woke you up, Grian.” He forces through a tight jaw. “You can go back to sleep, I’m just gonna stay up here for a bit.”

There’s a silence that hikes his shoulders up even more. He wants to believe that Grian’s listened and gone back downstairs, but it's unlikely. He’ll probably lecture Scar for waking him up with pain and Scar will have to pretend like the shadow of pain that Grian is feeling is exactly what’s going on with him.

It’s fine.

“You always do this, you know.” Grian finally says, and Scar waits for the parental tone.

It doesn’t come. Instead Grian settles behind him, holding his hand out for the supplies Scar has clutched in sweaty palms. It takes a moment, but Scar reluctantly passes them to him. He doesn’t respond. There’s honestly no words for him to say.

Grian just continues without a response.

“You don't tell anyone how much it hurts. I always thought that you just had really high pain tolerance, or weren’t that injured, but seeing you today…” Grian’s hands are light on his skin as he pours cold water across the burns. “It made me realize that you are way too good at quietly suffering.”

There’s a sharp burst of pain on his left shoulder that he cringes at, but not a single sound leaves him, as if to back up Grian’s point. 

“I don't try.” Is the only defense Scar can muster. 

“How can you not- okay whatever. Face me real quick-” Scar slowly turns towards Grian and the look of sympathy in his eyes almost floors Scar. He continues with his task as he speaks, not making eye contact. “I always wondered how you got back to normalcy after third life. I mean I was bedridden for weeks after my fall, and that wasn’t even as bad as-”

He stops his rambling as he realizes just where it will lead. Neither of them have mentioned that last fight, and they never will. As Grian moves onto the bandaging he gets quieter, his face drawn in concentration. 

“It hurt a lot actually.” Scar clears his throat, looking off in the distance so he doesn’ have to see how Grian reacts. “Both times. But I just couldn’t let anyone know what happened, it just felt like too much to put on other people’s shoulders.”

“You spoon.” Grian chides, and there’s the parental tone. “We all love you Scar, and we want to know. Mumbo was worried sick for weeks after last life when you wouldn’t leave your house. He thought you hated all of us.”

Scar can’t think of a single thing to say, so he simply shrugs. The immediate hurt makes him regret the decision, and he bites down hard on his cheek to keep himself from reacting. The skin there is completely scarred up by now, destroyed from years of continual use.

“Void at least cry or something Scar.” Grian snaps and it takes Scar back. “I can feel it, and even though it’s lessened it freaking hurts. You’re allowed to be in pain, I’m not going to judge you or anything.”

Once again, Scar just stares at the stars, keeping his mouth shut. 

When the bandaging is done, Grian holds his hand out. Scar stares at it for a moment before grabbing it, the avian’s hand warm on his. He’s hauled to his feet and led down the stairs, Grian’s fingers intertwined with his. 

They settle back onto the bed, but this time Grian doesn’t go to the wall. Instead he stays rather close to Scar, basically in his arms if he were to reach out. He doesn’t. 

Even when his eyes close, his heart stays rapidly fluttering. His eyelids twitch every few seconds and Scar can see words playing on his lips. What is he thinking about?

“I’m sorry.”

Scar blinks once, then twice as he stares at now open, dark eyes. He’s never once heard Grian apologize, except when he was actively killing him all that time ago. It rings in his ears for just a moment.

“What are you sorry about?” He finally asks, his mouth open in surprise.

“I’m sorry for killing you.”

“We already established that the creeper kill wasn’t your-”

“Not that Scar.” Grian groans, an exasperated sigh leaving him. He pulls himself up on the pillow, eye to eye with Scar. “I meant all the other times. The taken lives, everything.”

His breath catches and Scar tilts his head curiously. 

“And I’m sorry for killing you to win.” He says quietly, and the words settle in Scar’s chest heavily. Like a weight on his heart, actively pulling him down. “You deserve so much better than what I’ve given you.”

“I don't think that-” Scar starts.

“I don't care what you think.” Grian says quickly, his voice rising for just a moment. “You deserved better, and you still do. So tell me what I’ve done to hurt you and I’ll apologize for it all, because I can't bear to watch you just hold it all in.”

Scar’s mouth opens and closes multiple times before he settles on a response. 

“I’ve already forgiven you for all of it, Grian.” Scar says, a sad smile on his lips. “It hurt far too much to stay angry, so I just let it all go.”

“I don't deserve that Scar.”

“No you don't.” Scar finally reaches out, an invitation. “But you get it anyways.”

Tears spring in the avian’s eyes as he stares at Scar’s outreached hands. After a few seconds of deliberation he accepts it, pulling himself into Scar’s arms. He’s impossibly warm on Scar’s bandaged skin, and he can feel when the avian sighs.

“Do you feel any better?” He mumbles and Scar has to strain his ears just to hear it.

“Not really.” Scar finally admits, and it feels kind of good to say. “It hurts a lot, but it’s nice not being alone for once.”

“Well next time you get hurt you better come to me.” Grian hums softly. “No more of this quiet pain stuff or I will hunt you down and make you share your feelings.”

Scar laughs quietly, the movement burning across his chest. Finally he lets out a hiss of pain, and Grian frowns. 

“Fine Grian.” Scar reluctantly says. “I’ll go to you then.”

“Good.”

For the first time in a long time when Scar goes to bed in pain, there’s someone else who knows, and someone else who cares. It’s foreign, but it feels strangely good.

[enigmatist17]

The world came back in bits, flashes of color breaking through the white haze that had overwhelmed his senses when the bloody chip in his head fired off. He can't really remember what set it off in the first place, but can feel pain blossoming from several points all over his body, so it was clear he'd been attacked.

Oh, wait.

A bar, some men harassing a woman, and Spike stepping in with good intentions. He'd failed to notice two other men until they'd attacked, the chip preventing the vampire from fighting back or defending himself as he was beaten into submission. At least the bint who'd caused it all got away, so there was at least one mark in the white hat column for him.

The alley he had been in felt kind of soft under his shattered bones, and it took a long minute for the vampire to realize he was inside somewhere and on a bed. Oh, Spike doesn't remember getting up and going somewhere, but he'll take what little he can get these days, and gladly surrenders to oblivion.

He wakes once again to find himself feeding, the blood soothing the hunger he'd had constantly ever since the Initiative had used him for a sodding lab rat. While it's not the blood of a sire, something Spike hadn't tasted in several lifetimes, whoever was taking the time to feed Spike was clearly part of the Aurelian line and a fair bit older than himself. He lets out a soft snarl when he's pulled away from the source of the blood, annoyed when he can hear a chuckle somewhere to his left.

"You'll have more soon, don't worry."

What the?

Spike doesn't have the energy to open his eyes or speak, drifting back into sleep to the feeling of bone and tissue knitting back together. The next time he wakes, he's able to open his eyes and sit up, but he growls at the memory of being bested by bloody humans as he looks around the room he is in, sitting up slowly as he tests his limbs.

"Finally, he wakes."

"Penn?" The elder gave a short nod from his seat across the room, closing the book he'd been reading and setting it on the table beside him. "'Eard you were dead."

"Nearly died, survived." Penn shrugged, getting to his feet with a slight wobble. "Luckily for you, I am not, Angelus could not come."

"The poof wanted to come 'ere?" Spike was pleased to find his legs moved without pain, slinging them over the edge of the bed to face Penn proper.

"Yes, we found some...information on this Initiative group that is operating in town, but one of his pe-humans had a vision." The elder looked annoyed for a moment but shrugged it off. "Color me shocked to find you a bloody pulp in some alley, you don't seem the type to fall to humans." Spike cursed internally as he and Penn held each other's gaze, the other more curious than eager to find some sort of weakness Spike may or may not have.

"You'll want the Watcher, Slayer is never far from 'im." Spike finally scoffed, able to stand with minimum pain, Penn rising with him.

"Not coming with?" Those eyes narrowed as Spike growled.

"No, I'm not. He's not far from here, 'ave fun Penn." With that he swept out of the rather nice hotel room and into the night, heading for his crypt for some decent rest away from the prying eyes of family. He thanks his past self for ensuring proper sleeping quarters below the crypt he'd chosen, too exhausted to even kick off his shoes and he sinks onto his bed and back into sleep. It spared him from thinking about how humiliating it had been for Penn, of all people, to find him, and he knew that the Slayer and the others would most likely let slip his "condition" out of pure spite, leading to even more mockery. Maybe he'll just dust in his sleep; the Slayer of Slayers is gone as a footnote in demon history because of some bloody scientists.

Man his unlife just sucked, why the hells had he come back to Sunnydale?!

It's a pleasant surprise when he slowly starts to awaken to someone running a gentle hand through his hair, and Spike wonders if he's dreaming. Dru had been gentle in her rare lucid moments, whispering his poetry with a tender voice as she would hold him, both soaking up these peaceful moments before Miss Edith would inevitably return. Perhaps his brain was giving him a small mercy, so Spike decided to play along, chest rumbling with a purr as the hand continued its gentle pace.

Should we wake him?

No, he'll be asleep again soon, he's still weakened.

I still wish to hunt them sire, the ones who hurt him.

I know, but right now, my childer needs us.

Will we take him with us to L.A.?

If he wishes.

Spike isn't surprised to find the hand touching him is real, but is familiar with hiding his surprise to find that Angel is the one to touch him. He was sure Angel would have killed him; the hot pokers and torture were more than justification enough for his death, right? Instead, he's just...touching him, and speaking with Penn, who almost sounded like he gave a shite about Spike's health. Spike isn't sure what to make of this, so he just focuses on the gentle touch, lying to himself that it was just like old times until his brain decides to fall back asleep.

He can worry about everything later.

[obsoleteozymandias]

Can I get some DE boy headcanons? The reader some home super late. Late even for the boys given their grueling shifts, they end up staying up due to worry and suddenly, around 2-4ish they come home. They are beaten up, bruised cheek, red nose with dry blooding leaving trails down to their lips. They had gotten into a fight (if you could give different reasons for why they got in the fight for each boy). How do the boys react, I definitely imagine either someone beat up, in jail with fees so far up their ass that you can see them behind their eyes, or a mix of both.

This one's a bit heavier emotionally, so be warned anon.

Headcanons: Disco Elysium 

+Injured!Reader

Harry du Bois:

Harry is distraught to see you so hurt. He’s fretting and spacing out like no one’s business, all while trying to get you patched up.

Regardless of the reason, he believes that what happened to you is his fault.

He doesn’t tell you, but he sleuths out who did it, even if you don’t tell him. Then, regardless of evidence, he takes them back to the RCM, and puts them in jail for at least a night. 

He just wants justice. 

If they get released because there isn’t any evidence, it haunts him. 

Kim Kitsuragi: 

Kim had been in a good few fights back in his day, and so seeing you in such a state, while stressing, is something he’s very capable of taking care of. 

He calmly asks you what happened, and if you chose to explain it, he’ll feel such anger that its completely out of character for him. 

He’s angry that someone would hurt you, but also that you’re experiencing things he swore he could lessen in this world. He knew this could happen, but he’d prayed that it would never be you. 

He personally doesn’t do anything to the perp, but everyone in the RCM knows who to look out for, and what they did to you. 

Jean Vicquemare: 

Jean reacts quickly to your bloodied state and patches you up, but he’s seething with anger. 

He wants whoever did this to you beaten to a bloody pulp. He wants them dead and jailed. He wants revenge. 

But he’s also angry at himself for not being there to protect you. He doesn’t think himself any knight-in-shining-armor, but he’s still so distraught that the one good thing that happens to him is hurt. 

Off the book, he’ll find them. And what happens next is probably best left unsaid.