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iheartmapi · 5 months ago

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Get Gone (pt.2 to “Teddy Bear”)

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: Alexia had crossed another line, and you couldn’t let it be like this anymore.

Angst, no comfort ig

TW: none

Word count: 1,185

Your eyes flickered around the restaurant you were patiently waiting in for the past 30 minutes.

The situation is easy to guess, you were waiting for Alexia, since she herself proposed a date today to you a week ago. Yet she wasn’t showing up. Sweat painted your hands, you wanted to finally catch a glimpse of her blonde hair somewhere in the crowd of waiters and other clients, you tried texting her, perhaps she got stuck in traffic or something else happened to her?

You hoped it was only something of innocent nature…Alexia wouldn’t stand you up after all, right?

More time passed and passed, but to no avail Alexia hadn’t appeared in the restaurant. Tears were begging to be let out of your eyes, it was hard keeping yourself in check and not crying a river right there in public but you at least managed to get back to your car before breaking down in tears.

You went back home, your sadness slowly morphed into anger towards Alexis, lately you’ve been wondering if this relationship even had any chance of salvation. She didn’t return till late in the evening. You were sitting in the living room, your arms crossed as you saw her drop her bag down on the floor. Not even a “sorry”, “hey” or “how are you was dropped, let alone one single look at you. You wanted to scream at her, make a mess of the apartment, claw at her skin pull your hair anything..but she’d just turn a blind eye to it anyway, it’s as if you were invisible, when you were around her she treated you like mist, she just didn’t care.

“Why?” You then spoke up, your cheeks got a reddish tint to them, as well as your eyes which were letting tears fall. You cried silently, just looking at her as she turned around to face you as if she had no clue what you meant by ‘why’

“What are you talking about?” Alexia’s brow furrowed, her gaze said it all, she was looking at you as if you were some mad woman that should be institutionalised for her over-sensitivity. “Why don’t you love me anymore?” You choked out the question you had wanted to ask her for the past few months.

“Y/n-“ Alexia begun with a tired voice, “No” you cut in “Don’t ‘Y/n’ me, you know it’s the truth” And she probably did, Alexia stood in place, her eyes diverted from yours.

“I wanted this to work, I really did, and we had our happy years didn’t we? But you changed Alexia, you don’t give a shit about me anymore.” Your voice broke here and there, a thousand words and sentences were running through your brain, so fast it made you feel like it was frying.

“I thought about this so many times, thought about all the things I wanted to say to you…but now I can’t, there’s so many of them I can’t keep up, you had done me so bad, so many times..so many times I forgave you quietly, but I can’t do it anymore”

“What the hell do you mean?” She barked at you, “So you’re gonna break up with me? Because of some dumb things I did? God you’re impossible-“ The blonde shook her head “Stop it! For fuck’s sake stop it! That’s why I’ve been holding back, cause you always do this, I’m always the bad guy whilst you’re a martyr.” Your hands clutched your head “And dumb things? You cal treating me as if I didn’t exist dumb things? You stood me up, and the best part is this wasn’t the first time” It was clear Alexia was trying to come up with some cheeky answer, one that’d shut you up, but to no avail.

“This is the end” you said now more quietly, “I’m leaving, don’t contact me again” with that you made your way to your now past shared bedroom. Another minute spent in this goddamn place was going to drive you mad, so swiftly you grabbed your clothes and other belongings, not caring to fold them, just to get them into your bags. Alexia soon stormed in after you. “This is fucking crazy!” She yelled, “You can’t do this to me!” Her arms were swaying around, she was mad, furious even.

“You did much worse to me” you muttered “You don’t deserve to be mad at me Alexia”

As you grabbed your now packed bags you looked at her for the last time together, “Goodbye” and that was it, the end.

A few weeks had passed now, you bought yourself a flat since you sold your old one before moving in with Alexia. You recall breathing the fresh air, the wind blowing through your hair when you left Alexia, the world around you felt different, alone and freeing. Later a part of you was screaming at you that you chose the wrong option, but you couldn’t get back with Alexia, not after everything.

Years of a good relationship, and then years of a ruin that was your ‘love’. There was no denying that a small percentage of you, still loved her, but you couldn’t be with her if all you were going to get was a one-sided romance.

Alexia messaged you, one message that read ‘meet me at the pier, you know which one. 7pm, I’ll be there.”

You sighed internally, you were gonna give her one last chance to speak to you, whatever it is she wanted, all you knew was that there was no getting back ever again.

It was dark already, the sky turning into a deep navy blue transcending into black. As you walked down the wooden pier, some happy moments from your time together came flooding back. You knew this had to be the pier she wanted to see you at, and as you walked further down you could make out a woman’s figure in the distance, as you got closer you quickly recognised it was indeed Alexia.

She was leaning against the pier’s fence, looking into the deep blue sea, you stood next to her, glancing into the water as well

“What is it that you wanted to talk about?” You then asked, not looking back at her, and you could feel that she wasn’t observing you either. “Can’t we make this right?” She said after a minute “Alexia…” you sighed, “I told you”

“I can change, Y/n” she was still pleading for you to change your mind. “I’m sorry, but I just can’t believe you, we’re done, and that’s it. If we get back together either you or me are still gonna get hurt” You knew well that it was definitely you who was going to get hurt…but you weren’t here to talk about it, all you had wanted was to deliver the message clearly.

“Y/n..” she mumbled, “I’m sorry Alexia” you simply stated, “Have a good night.” You pushed yourself off the fence, walking off, towards the parking lot to your car. As you walked, you hadn’t looked back at Alexia.

You were better off not being together.

#barca femeni x reader #woso community #woso x reader #barca women #wlw #woso appreciation #woso fanfics #fanfic #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas #la reina #wlw post #wlw fanfic #light angst #angst

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riordanness · 11 months ago

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slow motion, double vision - [w.scobell]

wordcount: 0.8K

warnings: self harm (reader)

requested: yes!

a/n: please do not read this if you struggle with self harm and won’t feel comfortable reading about it (it’s not described at all and reader doesn’t do it in this but it’s said that she has and a brief description of her wrist is also in this. don’t read this if you aren’t going to cope with that. and if you are struggling w self harm, reach out to me, please!! <3)

Another day on the Percy Jackson set. Today, we are filming a scene between Percy and Annabeth, an argument.

Walker gives me a grin once he’s finished up with the makeup crew. “Hey, you,” he says with an easy smile.

I try to replicate it. Walker has this gift. He’s so good at it. At everything. Life, acting, smiling.

All the things I struggle with.

“Hey,” I say back. “Looking good.”

“Says you.” He gives me an appreciative look. “My girlfriend looks adorable.”

I immediately get flustered. No matter how many days I’m dating Walker for, I think him calling me his girlfriend will always make me flutter inside.

“I'm not your girlfriend anymore,” I joke. “I’m Annabeth Chase, Seaweed Brain.”

He grins. “See you out there.”

As soon as he’s gone, my heart sinks again. It’s like he’s the only thing in the world that brings any kind of light to my darkness. The only smile on my sad face. The only sweet words I can say.

“The chair is the bargain,” Walker, as Percy, says. “One of us goes in, the other gets the shield.”

“I’ll do it,” I say, stepping forward, a determined look on my face.

“What? What a minute!” Walker reaches over and grabs my wrist. A flicker of pain crosses my features, but quick as lighting, I go back into character, hoping he didn’t notice.

“Whoever goes in isn’t coming out!” I say, my voice rising a little at the end.

“I know, that’s why I said wait.”

“This isn’t the arch, Seaweed Brain,” I snap in response.

“Cut!” someone yells, and I instantly break character, as does Walker.

The directing team is talking amongst themselves, which is usually a sign for us to just chat and wait for them to be ready to film again.

“Hey,” Walker comes close to me, his voice quiet. “Are you okay?”

I look at him, feigning a frown. “Course I’m okay. Why?”

He looks concerned, his blue eyes staring deep into mine. “You flinched just now. When I grabbed you.”

“Oh,” I laugh, which comes out so brittle I almost wince. “Nah, it’s all good. Just acting.” I’m brushing him off, and he knows that.

“I’m gonna grab a drink,” I tell him, and disappear before he can argue with me about it.

He finds me in the bathrooms. I’m standing over a sink, gripping the sides like a dramatic Draco Malfoy-wannabe. I have tears in my eyes, but the second I hear someone behind me, I brush them away.

“Y/n?” Walker asks quietly. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

I can’t answer, his sweet words just making me want to cry harder. I can only shake my head.

He buries me in a hug, his chin on top of my head, and his arms encircling me tightly. “Love,” he says again, speaking softly into my hair, “tell me what’s wrong.”

“Walker, I—“ I cannot bring myself to say the words, so I pull back from the hug, and pull up the sleeve of my Annabeth jacket. Across the inside of my left wrist are stripes of harsh red, jagged and fresh.

Walker’s eyes shatter, a million emotions and words and thoughts all inside their clear blue at once. His mouth opens a little.

“Y/n—“

“I’m sorry,” I blurt. “I’m so so sorry.”

He immediately folds me back into his arms. “You have no reason to be sorry,” he says roughly. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry you feel this awful about yourself. I’m so sorry you felt like you had no other choice. But please—“ I can tell by his voice that he’s upset. Somehow, that makes me feel even worse.

“Please come talk to me before you do something like that,” he whispers.

“Okay,” I manage.

“Do you promise?” he asks, his voice ragged.

“I promise on the River Styx.”

I feel his smile through my hair. “I love you.”

I smile too, his warmth and love spreading through me like an antidote. “I love you too, Walk.”

He pulls away from the hug, his fingertips brushing the broken skin of my wrist as lightly as he can. “Come on,” he says. “Let’s get this cleaned and dressed properly, okay?”

I let him take me by the hand, and for the first time in my life, I feel completely and totally safe and understood.

With him.

#walker scobell #percy jackson #pjo #fanfiction #fanfic #pjo show #pjo tv show #pjo series #walker scobell fanfic #walker scobell x reader #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson and the olympians

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weezerlvr228 · 5 months ago

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why he so mysterious…

demur

#weezer #rivers cuomo #i had a bad day! well actually i looked freaking amazing and got sm compliments today sooo!! i am pretty as freaksauce.#it was fairly good but i failed my physics test :(( …. it’s so sad… 34 percent before the curve.#34?!??? HOW???? I THOUGHT J ATE TS UP???#so yeah; insane …. but it’s okay because i’m good at other stuff and have other things i am good at!#oh yeah so guys guys guys.#there’s this girl who i do not like and i have not liked her since freshman year; right? and she’s fairly popular; your average overachieve #ing person; BUT i always didn’t like her. she left a bad taste in my mouth and i didn’t know if i was just jealous or WHAT #BUT I HAVE REASON TO HATE JER! MY GUT WAS RIGHT!#good job lyss #she’s a homewrecker and basically likes to get w people who have partners…. AND SHE WSS BEING FLIRTY W MY BF LIKE HELLO ???#who she think she is?#my bf doesn’t talk to her anymore since i said i don’t rlly like her and how she is thankfully #but my friend was talking to me in Seminar and was like ‘oh ya if i had a bf i’d kms than let him be around her.’ is that mean ? or is it #okay since she has done that multiple times then gets defensive and hates to be called out for kt #her gf right now had cheated on her boyfriend for the girl i don’t like; and this has happened TWICE!#HELLO???#like wtf…. and she sends the screenshots of it when she stops talking w the person who cheated on their partner for her and starts to play #the victim… like the weezer song. you can’t pay for dinner w the victim card ya.#well billy talent; but you know what i mean. so she’s playing the victim and she was saying “omg…. this feels so wrong…. but-but i love you.#stfu yn 😭#like holy moly. holy guac. “i don’t know how to quit you…’ turn off your phone ! (^^) close the app !#easy as that girl dw i got you #but for real. NOBODY LIKES JER BC SHES SO TOXIC. OMG IM SO JAPPY IM NOT ALONE ONNMY HATE TRAIN #anyways yeah. i can go more in detail for you all if anybody cares about my silly high school drama

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utterlyotterlyx · 9 months ago

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The Fox and The Fawn

High Lord Eris x Rhys!Sister!Reader x Azriel

Part Eleven

Summary - Azriel grapples with the weight of his guilt whilst you receive a visitor, and in Autumn, a meeting changes the entire trajectory of your fate.

Warnings - trauma, ptsd, betrayal, morally grey antics, friendship fluff, depression, thoughts of death, some hope (finally!)

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven Part Eight Part Nine Part Ten

There was a little nagging voice in his head, perhaps the shadow that adored you the most, telling him that he had allowed it to go too far.

Azriel lay atop the cream comforter of the bedspread that belonged to the woman he truly thought he would spend the rest of his life with if her brother would allow it. The pillows still held the faint smell of her, currents of the most intoxicating scent he had ever encountered flowing through him with every medial turn of the head.

He couldn't be there when Rhys took you, he wouldn't be able to stop himself from unsheathing the murderous tool that you often likened to a toothpick to get a rise out of him.

The bargain tattoo strained and withered around his bicep, contracting the muscle and making him regret every single choice he had made that got him to where he was. Laying on your bed, ready to tear the pillows apart just so he could hold the feathers drenched in the scent of you.

Nesta had left to follow you into a world of the unknown because of her unwavering loyalty to you, so had Elain and Lucien; Cassian was a mere shell of his former glory, Mor rarely spoke to anyone and often locked herself away with Amren, and Feyre, well, Azriel hadn't seen Feyre in a couple of weeks, nor Nyx.

Feyre had moved herself and Nyx to the House of Wind to escape Rhys, to put some space between them just in case one of them did something they would most probably regret. The night Rhys had taken you to The Prison was the night he permanently moved back into the River House, Feyre couldn't allow Nyx to grow up with the example of hatred that ran through his fathers veins.

The Prison.

Azriel could almost picture it. The cell lined with onyx stone to contain you, he could almost smell your fear and sadness, he could almost hear your heart cleaving into a thousand pieces. The Prison was a horrid place made for horrid creatures, and you certainly were not one of them. It was all his fault, he shouldn't have told Rhys that he witnessed Tamlin and Helion enter the Autumn Court, but if he hid it and Rhys found out then his entire façade would be blown and you would never get the chance to be free.

Scratches lined the palms and backs of his hands, some fully healed and others freshly scabbed over from his incessant self-mutilation brought on by his guilt. Azriel could only imagine how broken you were, that awful hum that you sang into the night still haunted his nightmares to the point where he refused to sleep, he refused to find comfort when you were on the verge of giving up entirely.

It was odd, how Autumn had moulded itself into your bones, your scent now tinged with hints of pine and mulled wine, of warm rain on the sun-kissed grass. It made him wonder how blind Rhys truly was if he couldn't tell that his sister had found her mate, and that that mate was none other than Eris Vanserra. It was obvious, the longing glances beyond the window, the void lingering in your eyes, the way your hand would occasionally drift over your heart like something was pulling at it.

The continent was safe from war thanks to your sacrifice, but you hadn't done it for the continent, you had done it for your family. A family that no longer had a place for him.

Azriel had told himself that it was fine, he couldn't blame you for hating him if you did, he deserved it, but that wouldn't stop him from doing what he needed to do.

It was silly of Nesta to believe that he hadn't seen what she had seen that day Under The Mountain, he had allowed her to think that she had found the book when they had split up, knowing that she would smuggle the tome back into Velaris and hide it. That evil was better hidden by her than it ever would be by him. Though, Azriel didn't account for Nesta hiding it so well; he had practically turned her room upside down looking for it to no avail. All he had found were a few of her raunchy novels that she usually never let out of her sight, but she had left them all behind when she had left the Night Court to join your side.

Azriel wished he had done the same, maybe things would have been different between the two of you if he had.

But you needed someone on the inside, even if it did feel like all of the odds were against you.

Rhys was stupid enough to believe it much to Azriel's pallid joy, the High Lord had no one to turn to, the rest of his Inner Circle had labelled his actions as monstrous to his face and refused to aid him further. Azriel was all he had left, and he was clinging to the Shadowsinger like the last patch of snow to the earth just before the Spring sun inhaled it.

It was too risky to tell you, everything you felt had to be real, Rhys' attention was solely on you and your behaviour and if that changed even a little bit then you would not survive his wrath, not when you had no power to protect yourself with.

Whisperings behind closed doors told Azriel what he already knew, that his family was frantically hatching a plan to get you out of Velaris and back into the safety of the Autumn Court. No matter the cost. And, in his own way, Azriel would make sure that they succeeded.

Maniacal laughter haunted what little sleep the island had tried to gift to you.

That along with the faint dripping of rain was all you could hear, the inner voice that usually caressed your mind had left long ago, and you weren't sure if it would ever return. The prisoners were relishing in the demise of the Princess of Velaris, cooing and taunting you every moment they could, and when one would fall to slumber, another one would take its place.

How you hadn't gone mad yet was beyond you.

It was you who had locked many off the vile residents of the putrid place away, and now you were one of them. Straining against the stone, you pushed yourself upright, your back hitting the glacial wall of the cell you had no choice but to call home; you shivered at the contact and attempted to wrap your thinned fingers around the blanket to contain some warmth within your decaying body, but it was pointless.

The altar taunted you, the rare stripes of moonlight pouring upon it like it was some holy artifact that you should be worshipping. A part of you had to admire Rhys' gall attempt to break you, forcing you to dwell in the same room as a thing that had ruined your life, that had stripped you of a fundamental aspect of your humanity. Looking at the glistening stone altar, you struggled to remember why people had been so afraid of you, you struggled to remember the mother tongue of your fury on the battlefield and the sultry wit that would fill the halls.

Hugging your knees to your chest, you let out a defeated sob, the pain throbbing at your limbs, threatening to allow the foundations to consume you if you didn't move. The queen within you had dimmed, leaving the weakest part of you on show for the continent to see, not that anyone would ever come for you there.

Poor little fawn. The cutest thing we have ever seen. Such a shame, to be a monster.

The little fawn is trapped. The little fawn will die here.

No one will come for her.

Raising you gaze to the ceiling, you allowed the tears to fall. If you were going to die then it would be worth it, to protect those who had risked everything to stand by your side, to protect those who had showed you love in the face of uncertainty and evil. Resting your head against the wall, you felt yourself succumbing to the words that had been chanted to you through the nights, your heart clenching at the little name that had always given you butterflies.

Fawn.

Your mind drifted, and you could almost see him. In your visions, Eris was happy, strolling through the forests with Willow in tow weaving between his legs and sunlight illuminating that gods-crafted face. You wondered if he had heard your song, if it had reached the depths of Autumn to tell him that you were still alive. Had Gwyn done as you asked? Did Eris know anything about your torture?

Before you could even think of a scenario that could bring you some hope, a quiet scuffle of feet sounded at the mouth of the hallway where your chamber lay. The sound was followed by a sweep of fabric against the floor, and your interest was captured by it. You shakily rose to your feet, leveraging your withering weight against the stone until you could find your footing. Firelight flickered, growing brighter with each passing moment, and you waited before the enchanted barred gate for the owner to make themselves known.

The silhouette was Rhys', that was undeniable, but as you watched him, you saw him shrink a few inches, you saw his usually short tamed hair grow and pour over his shoulders, and you watched as his entire body morphed into another entirely. The firelight from the torch illuminated her face, revealing ethereal beauty and the pale blue-grey eyes that you had always admired, "Feyre," you weren't sure if she heard the utter of her name from the broken cracks in your voice.

You sank to your knees in front of her and she followed suit, placing the torch against the wall and crawling to the bars of the cell, her bottom lip wobbling as she took in the sight of you. Matted hair, ashen skin streaked with tears, weary eyes with no fire or spark, chapped and bloodied lips, "I'm so sorry, y/n. I'm so sorry," her fingers reached through the bars, the pads of them massaging warmth into your cheeks, "We're trying, alright? We're trying to find a way to get you out of here."

"He'll kill you," hatred flickered in her eyes but it wasn't something she hadn't thought of already, "Feyre, you can't."

Feyre's nostrils flared, water pooled at her bottom lids and you leant into her palm, it being the first innocently warm thing you had felt, "None of us deserve you, y/n. We have all been complicit in this one way or another. and I am not the only one who can't stand to watch this anymore," sensing your wavering life, Feyre added, "You have to hold on. Your family is waiting for you. Nesta and Elain are waiting for you. Eris is waiting for you."

"You have faced things no one ever should, and it makes me sick to know that your family has done this, that we have done this to you. Even if it's the last thing I do, I will get you out of this, y/n. We all will. I need you to hold on for a little longer, alright?"

The stone collar growled in retaliation, burning into your flesh for entertaining the words and you visibly winced, "I don't think that I can."

"You must," Feyre's words exuded those of a High Lady, though she would never pull rank on you, she grasped your face in her hands and removed the matted hair from your face, "Gwyn has sent word, we are orchestrating a High Lord's meeting, then, you will be free. You have to hold on, otherwise it'll have all been for nothing and you are too strong for that. If you are going to die then it'll be when you're old surrounded by everyone who has ever loved you, not in this gods forsaken prison. Do you hear me?"

Feyre was holding back her tears, she had never seen anyone so broken, so close to allowing the darkness to swallow them whole to escape the torment they had faced. The resentment she held toward Rhys was palpable, it was rife within the creases on her forehead and in the deep hued bags beneath her eyes.

"How is Nyx?" You had often thought of the babe, if he even remembered who you were, if he missed you at all, if he had any idea what was going on around him.

Feyre smiled sadly, her fingers caressing your rough skin, "He misses his aunt, very much."

"He does?"

Feyre hummed in confirmation, her head tilted to the side, eyes peering down at your hunched over form like she had just found a wounded doe in a clearing, writhing in a bed of autumn leaves, "I have to go, before this place realises that I'm not Rhys and alerts him," her hand withdrew from your face and a whimper fell from your lips at the sudden cold that coiled around you, "I'll come back, I don't know when but I will, I promise," a dark spot pooled at Feyre's right, looming in the corner of the opening, it wasn't prominent enough for Feyre to notice it, but you were attuned to the darkness, you'd notice an anomaly anywhere.

The High Lady rose to her feet, clasping the torch between her trembling fingers and tightening her cloak around her frame. All you could do was stare up at her, "Remember, remember that you were born to make the world shake at your fingertips. Don't let him ruin you."

And with that, Feyre turned away, leaving you slumped against the confinements of the gates, morphing back into the image of her husband once she was far away enough that it wouldn't scare you.

Feyre had contorted into Rhys, just like she had Tarquin before the war, even her scent morphed into his. The footsteps fell heavy against the stone, the firelight reflecting off of the dampened walls as she stalked through the prison, winding through the halls and finding herself being grateful for the lack of chortles sent her way by the prisoners, but also finding herself yearning to return to you.

A cool breeze drifted through the hall, telling Feyre that the entrance was only around the corner, and soon she'd be back at the House of Wind with her little Nyx working with her family on the plan to free you. Though, as soon as she turned the corner, she halted, she straightened her posture and felt dread settle into her chest at the flash of blue that greeted her.

Azriel stood before her, no doubt seeing right through the body she wore, his fists and jaw were clenched and his eyes burned into her, "I have to that admit that I'm impressed, Feyre. Impersonating Rhys to sneak into this place to see her." The darkness curled around him as it always had and would, his siphons were glowering in the slick corridor, bouncing off the glistening walls wet by the most recent downpour.

Shifting to her original form, Feyre became comfortable with the possibility of hurting Azriel, after the hand he had dealt in your suffering, "I did it with Tarquin, it was easy," Feyre's fists clenched, the hem of her cloak drowning in the puddle behind her, "Are you going to lock me up as well, Az?"

Azriel stepped forward into the scope of the firelight, his eyes softened and shoulders lax, "No. I was coming to see her as well."

"You have no right," Feyre spat, her stance shifting as a blockade to prevent him from delving further, "You're the reason why she's here."

"I know that," Azriel admitted, knowing that nothing he could say could change that fact, "Do you think that I wanted to? Feyre, Rhys has lost his mind, someone needed to be on the inside, to be trusted enough to know what he has planned. None of you would be able to do it, so I had to, and I couldn't tell a soul of it, not if I wanted her to get out of this court alive."

"What are you talking about?"

Azriel ran a hand over his face in frustration and sighed, "Who do you think tipped Gwyn off to go into the River House?"

Feyre stuttered before the realisation hit her, "It was you. You've been playing double agent this entire time."

"I promised her that I would always look out for her, that I would protect her," he felt the bargain tattoo purr in reply, "If I had truly hurt y/n then I'd be dead, from my own guilt or from the consequence of breaking the bargain," his gaze flickered behind Feyre, like he was expecting you to round the corner, "I'll never be able to forgive myself for what I've aided, and I don't expect you or her to either. Gwyn will deliver the message to Eris and Nesta, they're meeting with Tamlin and Helion to tell them of what has happened here, one of them will call a High Lord's meeting. That's our chance to set her free. Tell the others to prepare themselves, it isn't going to be easy."

None of it was going to be easy, to defy the High Lord of the Night Court was an act of treason, they could all be wiped from the earth for it but it was a reality that they would all welcome if it meant that you had a real chance to live. Not just survive, but live a life that deserved you.

Azriel took a step forward, "Feyre," he coaxed his High Lady from her thoughts, "I need you to do this, for her, for all of us."

"I will," her voice lingered, "But you can't see her, she'll crumble if she sees you. You've broken her heart and thus her sanity, her mind will shatter if she sees you and we need her to hang on."

Everything within him was telling him to ignore her, even his shadows were screaming at the notion of not being able to be near you, they had always yearned for you, sought you out at every moment. Their entire spirit had dulled since the night you had left, like they were the first to know that you had denounced your place and title, they had curled down his spine and shuddered at the loss, and only became frantic the moment you had been dragged back into Velaris wearing those awful collars.

Azriel inhaled deeply, staring ahead at the pitch black hallway before resting his gaze on Feyre and offering his arm, "Let's get you out of here, we both have work to do."

Tamlin had always found a certain solace when visiting the Autumn Court, there was something about it that comforted him; he always thought it was the way the sun would kiss the browning leaves that had fell upon the grass, or that unique warmth spreading across the land like a blanket and weaving between the trees, breathing life into everything that it touched.

The High Lord of Spring had been surprised when he had received the note from Lucien, a twin to the one sent for Helion, but as soon as he saw the mention of you, Tamlin instantly agreed to the request to descend upon the Autumn Court. Though, what surprised him more was that he had been invited to the private residence of Fir Manor for the meeting, which meant that the matter was too important to speak of in a fortress of deceptive ears.

Fir Manor was a truly beautiful estate, towering oak beams encased by vines and delicate flowers, pale brickwork and a thatched but sturdy roof, large windows that oozed comfort, and gardens littered with fountains and the faint chipper of birds as they soared from branch to branch. Stones clashed beneath his feet, the sound alerting the inhabitants of the home to his presence; he wasn't exactly late, but by the faint scent of musk and petrichor Tamlin knew that Helion was already in the confinements of the manor.

The door opened as Tamlin stepped onto the porch, drinking in the wicker chairs facing outward to the pond, a blanket draped across the back that told him that it was someone's favourite spot. Nesta appeared before him, she seemed unphased by his presence, but her eyes were thankful and full of relief, "Tamlin," she greeted in monotone, she wouldn't forget what he had done to Feyre, but if he could help you then she could certainly forgive him for it.

"Nesta," Tamlin greeted with equal tone, wary of Lady Death in all of her glory. Nesta was poised, her shoulders straightened as she observed him; she stepped to the side so that he may be able enter, and he angled past her.

The interior was just as charming as the exterior, a log fire burned at the centre of the far wall, exposed wooden beams loomed overhead that connected to the coffee hued walls littered with golden embellishments; the seating area was rooted in place, large feather cushions sat atop plush red wine seating, and an array of artworks kissed the walls.

A faint scent clung to the air, one that Tamlin immediately recognised as yours, but it was a whisper on the atmosphere, like the home was clutching onto it, trying to inhale it into its bones so that an aspect of you might live with it for eternity. "Tamlin. Thank you for coming," Eris spoke from by the fire.

Noting his dishevelled appearance, Tamlin frowned, speckles of mud splayed up his riding boots, no doubt from a hasty morning ride through the forest. Eris' hair was messy and eyes weary and full of worry, the amber whisky hue dimming with every wrenching thought that shook through his mind.

Something was very off about the High Lord, and Tamlin couldn't quite put it together. He took the seat beside Helion, greeting him with the same pallid politeness before moving his gaze over to Lucien who nodded stiffly in his direction.

Tamlin returned the action and then allowed his eyes to wander about the room, noting all of its inhabitants, and then finding himself thinking of you and the intoxicating scent he often thought of. It was no secret that Tamlin held some form of affection toward you, he, like Eris, had grown up around you, seeing you grow and flourish into the impressive woman that you had become.

"Where is y/n? The note mentioned her, I thought she'd be here."

Eris visibly tensed at the question, squeezing his eyes shut and sighing before crossing the small space between the fire and the closest armchair and finding comfort within it, "Rhys has her."

The High Lord of Day frowned and moved from his lax position on the seat, leaning forward and examining the ire within the Autumn male, "What is that supposed to mean?"

Much like Tamlin did, Helion also thought very fondly of you, he enjoyed the wit and sass that radiated from you as well as the way you carried yourself, dangerously sultry yet elegant. Helion had asked Rhys for your hand multiple times, believing that you would make the finest High Lady, and his patience wavering each time he was shot down. Though, that didn't halt Helion from seeking you out at every dinner party or ball, he enjoyed your company greatly, as much as he enjoyed that beautifully knowledgeable mind you kept under lock and key.

"The day of your birthday, y/n found out that Rhys had sought to lock her away in Velaris for her entire life simply because she was more powerful than him, because her power threatened his position. Rhys used her to do his bidding, to be the terrifying monster of Velaris, he used her to threaten his enemies, but she was never able to leave the court without supervision. Rhys made y/n into a prisoner and she didn't even realise it," Eris recounted the knowledge as well as the pain in your face the moment you had figured out what he had done, "That night, y/n denounced her home and title and joined me here, Nesta, Elain and Lucien followed soon after."

"Rhys found her at the boarder to Winter whilst she was exploring, didn't realise how far she had strayed," Eris shook his head softly and inhaled deeply before he continued on, "He threatened us, he told her that he would kill us all if she didn't return, using the eons old Night Court tradition that an unmated female was the property of her family until they decided who to bestow her hand to."

Eris dragged his thumb over his bottom lip, trying to remember the way yours melted into his and the way they tasted on his tongue. It was difficult to ignore the bond that had opened within him, every inch of his essence was begging him to infiltrate the Night Court and save you, but his mind knew how dangerous that would be; if Rhys even caught one whiff of him then he would commit any manner of gut-wrenching acts upon you.

"And she's there now?" Helion enquired, the gold of his headpiece reflecting in the sunlight, scattering a glow across the ceiling, "Do we know if she is alive?"

The mere thought of you six feet underground made fury blaze within him, it was clear by how his entire body clenched, "We believe that she is, but we have no way of knowing," Nesta spoke for him from her seat to his side, "Rhys would have punished her for defecting, how, we don't know but we do know that he wouldn't have allowed her to continue on with her old life there. All of our contacts in the Night Court have been silent, there have been little to no whisperings of her, the only thing they know is that she has been said to be sick and is on strict orders to rest."

A blatant lie.

Throughout the entire display of information, Tamlin couldn't keep his eyes off of Eris, noting the way he shuffled in his seat and how his fingers would occasionally drift over his chest. Not needing to listen to Nesta for another moment longer, Tamlin cut through her words, "If you want our help then you will tell us the truth."

Eris' orbs burned, sticking to Tamlin with anguish before moving to Nesta, Eris nodded curtly and only once, a silent permission to divulge whatever it was that they were hiding. Nesta sighed, "There is a demon living within y/n. Amarantha placed it there the night she stole her wings Under The Mountain, she wanted to use y/n as a host, and if not y/n then the first child she could produce," Helion inhaled sharply, not expecting anything of the sort to ever be spoken in his lifetime. "That's not all," her voice drifted off but she didn't look to Eris, it was important that Tamlin and Helion knew everything, "Rhys also removed memories from both Eris and y/n, of the time they spent together throughout the years, of the love they shared."

A secret love that no one should have known of, but someone had sold you both out.

Helion's eyes drifted closed as he attempted to process the information. There was a demon living inside of the woman he admired. Rhys had taken you as a prisoner. Rhys had removed all memories of you and Eris from one another's minds. You and Eris loved one another. "You're her mate, aren't you?"

A gruff hum filled the void, "Yes. We are also Carranam."

Tamlin had heard of it, once, which told him that such a thing was a rarity, "Carranam," the word rolled off of his tongue, and he knew from the way Helion tensed beside him that he too knew what it meant. A bond that ran deeper than a mating bond, a bond that made the mating bond seem pale in comparison, "Rhys took your memories from one another so that her power couldn't be amplified by you, and then confined her to the Night Court so that she would never find out. A prisoner in her own home."

It was barbaric. To steal your chance of love away from you and confine you to your home court, and then have the gall to spread word of your monstrosity across the continent.

"I can't feel her," Eris strained, doing his best not to choke on the pain of the void dwelling within his soul, "He's done something to her, I know it."

Before them sat a male completely wracked by guilt and worry, who was clearly struggling to sleep, whose entire court was mourning the loss of you. Lucien was right, they couldn't sit by and allow history to paint this image of your demise.

"You're right," a genteel voice drifted from the doorway, the pop of red hair had Nesta rising from her seat almost immediately. The woman removed her hood, her red braid sweeping over her shoulders and blue eyes frantic, "I'm sorry that I couldn't send word, I couldn't trust anyone else with this information."

Nesta crossed the room, "Gwyn, what are you doing here?"

Gwyn was as pallid as a bedsheet drifting in the summer breeze, exhaustion fell from her, "Y/N sent me, and I brought you this," Gwyn presented a book from under her cloak, not just any book, it was the tome Amarantha had written that depicted every single thing that she knew of you, "I came as soon as I could."

"Y/N sent you?"

The woman nodded toward Eris, her lips curling downward, "She did. She asked me to deliver a message," her bottom lip wobbled slightly, "She asked me to tell you that she loves you, all of you," she emphasised, her sight flickering to Elain and Lucien, "She asked me to tell you that no matter what happens to her that there is no place you could go where she wouldn't be with you."

The final words of a woman losing the fight.

No.

Eris stood, "Where is she?"

The tone of his voice made the temperature of the manor rise, and the walls vibrated with it, "Rhys, what he's done - I can't serve anyone like that. I refuse."

Nesta grasped her friends forearms, willing her to focus, "I need you tell us where she is, and what has happened to her, Gwyn. Now."

"Rhys hired someone to manufacture some kind of collars, they've melted into her skin, they've drained her of all of her power and life, she's completely defenceless now. Cassian is trying to help her, so are Mor and Amren, they all know that he's gone mad. I don't think that she can hold on for much longer," Gwyn blinked hard, washing away the images of your thinning body and grey skin from her mind, "Rhys has moved her to the prison, Azriel told him that he saw Tamlin and Helion enter the Autumn Court and he moved her there as punishment."

Nesta dropped Gwyn's arms and stumbled backward, the dread and terror pooling into her gut at the image of you shivering in a cell. Alone and believing that no one was coming for you.

Eris reached into that bond, tugging at it harder and allowed part of himself to travel with it, almost whimpering when it was met by a wall of agony and darkness, pinging back to him like an injured animal searching for comfort.

"Call the meeting," Silence followed Nesta's dangerously low voice, and it only irked her fury more, "Call the fucking meeting," Nesta turned to Helion who had taken the book from Gwyn, he was flitting through the pages, his eyes pouring over every word and rune etched upon the pages. "If you care about her at all, you will do it. If you don't then I will destroy you, Helion. She'll die in there."

It had to be Helion. Rhys would find disrespecting Tamlin too joyous, but he wouldn't dare to show the same disrespect to Helion, not if he wanted their courts to continue their alliance, not if he wanted to avoid an all out war.

Helion's gaze lifted from the tome, his heart rumbling with what lined the pages, "Consider it done," he rose from his seat, his white tunic pooling at his sandalled ankles, "I'm taking this, I think there may be a code in this book which will help us free her of that demon."

The High Lord of Spring also stood, anger coursing through his veins at the revelation that one of the few people who ever truly saw him was locked away and suffering in one of the most inhumane places on the continent. It didn't matter to Tamlin that your mate was Eris, despite the tinge of jealousy that swarmed him that Eris was the one who able to call you his, all that mattered to Tamlin was that you were free and healthy, that you had the choice to be whatever you wanted to be. "It may take a couple of days, please try to be patient. I know that it's a ridiculous ask but we all need to prepare, and give the other High Lords time to respond to the request. We'll need all of them."

Approaching Eris, Tamlin rested a hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry that this has happened to you," his words were solemn but he was being truthful, "We will return her to you, and we will do everything that we can to free her from the demon inside of her. I promise you."

Wasting no time, Helion muttered a short farewell, clutching the tome to his chest and winnowing from sight, hurrying to send the request to the High Lords of the continent to ascend upon the Day Court Palace as a matter of urgency.

Moments later, Tamlin also said his goodbyes, strolling from the hearth of the manor toward the boarder where Spring met Autumn, doing his best not to listen to the gut wrenching roar that erupted from Eris the moment he stepped beyond the treeline.

Author's Note

Breaking my own heart right now 🥺

Also very sorry for the delay, haven’t been very well recently so just been trying to recover 🫶🏻

Taglist

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gloomygloworm · 6 months ago

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i watched the doom patrol episode with the dead boys in it (dead patrol its in season 3 i watched nothing of the show other than this episode) and something thats imprinted itself on the back of my eyelids is edwin and charles with the sad mummy at the river of souls or w/e, and this dude is like "soooooo u and charles are.....pretty close huh? kinda gay huh?" and edwin just hits back with (this is a direct quote) "He's my mate. Don't be crass, all right? Even if I did, it... it wouldn't be normal. It wouldn't be normal, so why talk about it?"

i'm so obsessed with this. it wouldn't be normal, so why talk about it?

because yeah, when ur in the closet or just repressed or just ASHAMED at how u feel, its not normal so why talk about it? why THINK about it? just keep ur head down and dont ruin what you have with things like feelings that arent normal.

how many times have YOU sat back and said "this isnt normal" when thinking about someone of the same gender expression as you? (whether it was true then or now, at some point) how many times have you curled into yourself and felt othered just because heterosexuality wasn't what you experienced?

how often do you think edwin felt something "not normal" when looking at a boy and how often do you think he drowned under the weight of his shame? of his own self-disgust? how do you think the netflix show would have progressed if we were shown a little more of THAT misery? that "this isnt normal" kind of misery? i love him as he is, ofc i do edwin is a great and IMPORTANT character. but what if he struggled just a little more, just a little longer?

i am spinning this concept in my hands trying to find the best way to use it (ive slowed down on writing because my brain is soupy again) like, i see a lot of fan content on tumblr about the dead patrol boys meeting the netflix boys, is it only right to make them meet through hand wavy magic and have edwin and edwin talk it out? or just apply the concept to the netflix boys and expand on an episode?

i do love that he got to accept himself - i just kind of wish i got to see the kind of suffering we go through more on the screen and how edwin dealt with it.

#dead boy detectives #edwin payne #charles rowland #crystal palace #niko sasaki #netflix dead boy detectives #dbda #dbda fanfic

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myownwholewildworld · 2 months ago

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14. IT'S GETTING DARK IN THIS HEART OF MINE

chapter 13 | ao3 | series masterlist | chapter 15 (soon)

pairing: post-outbreak!joel x f!reader. summary: dealing with the aftermath of tommy's actions has you and joel in a dark headspace. in your way to Boston QZ, you find a small gated community that looks so promising... and meet the man behind the creation of such oasis. a/n: this chapter is charged with angst as both you and joel come to terms with what has happened. it's a bit sad but also joel is very caring so i hope that makes it slighty better? also slightly sad about the fact that next chapter is the last (before the epilogue), this is drawing to and end t.t as always, i appreciate comments, reblogs and likes, and if you do all three, i'll treasure you forever. take care, lovelies <3 x warnings: 18+, mdni. angst. discussion of a miscarriage. joel being the partner we all deserve. reader is female, no other description given. reader is mid-late 20s, joel is 37. no use of y/n. tommy's pov at the beginning, then joel’s and reader’s pov. also there's a very special guest appearance towards the end 👀 dividers by @\saradika-graphics w/c: ~5.6k. taglist aka the drama wagon at the end of the chapter (let me know if you want to be added/removed from the list pls!)

“They should have been back by now,” Tommy paced in the hallway, unable to quiet down the intrusive thoughts.

A supply run shouldn’t have taken more than two hours, and Laney and the rest of the group had been gone for almost three now. They could have run into trouble, but they would have asked for backup on the transceiver.

Thinking back on it, Tommy was not so sure now that they had actually gone supply hunting. They had ventured into town only two days ago, which meant they were not in dire need of anything. With clickers everywhere, it was too risky to leave the safehouses when it wasn’t really necessary.

The nagging doubt that had been lingering for the same amount of time returned to tear his brain apart. Laney seemed to have left in a hurry, deciding there and then that a supply run was needed. A thought had crossed his mind as he saw her leave through the door, but had forced himself to drown it ― Laney wouldn’t do that, wouldn’t go find his brother without him.

Or would she? The venom her tongue distilled when Tommy mentioned you should have been a red flag, but given Laney’s snappy personality, it hadn’t been out of character. But in retrospect, Tommy started wondering if Laney had actually decided to track Joel and you down.

The idea tightened his throat ― he knew what Laney was capable of. But she wouldn’t ― she knew Tommy cared for the both of you. Tommy had shared so much with her, opened up about his past and new life, he thought she wouldn’t do anything that would hurt him. Perhaps it wasn’t love, but it was damn close. At least for him it was.

“It is unlike them,” Robert chipped in, scratching his beard.

“Maybe they have hit the jackpot and that’s why they’re running late,” Elijah added to the conversation. “Just give ‘em ten more minutes.”

And for ten minutes, Tommy kept on pacing around the enclosed space, watching his wristwatch eagerly. The moment the hands indicated ten minutes had gone by, he grabbed the keys.

“We have to go now. If we wait any longer and it snows, the tyre tracks will be covered,” he commanded, and the two men quickly followed.

They jumped into the Jeep, following the fresh treads on the snow. Soon Tommy realised that whatever path they had taken, it wasn’t the usual one into town, but the one that circumvented the river.

His heart skipped a few beats, fearing that his first instinct might have been correct. And if it was, he just hoped that Laney never caught up with his brother and you, for your own sake.

If something had happened to Joel or you because of who he chose to trust, Tommy would never forgive himself. When he had answered Laney’s question earlier that day, he hadn’t thought she would do anything with the information given. Mainly because he hadn’t asked her to. Laney respected him ― or so would he like to believe.

Despite his early departure, he didn’t want to leave Joel and you behind, not when he had just found you again. Sure, he had been a prick reacting the way he did, but fear to the unknown―you, alive and pregnant―had momentarily won. Now that he had a cooler head, Tommy knew he had been stupid to ditch you again. Instead of congratulating you both, he had pulled back and pointed his gun at you.

What a dick, he mentally reprimanded himself.

Even if Tommy hadn’t expressed it out loud, deep inside he was happy that his brother had had a fresh start with you. Losing Sarah had almost killed him, annihilated him from his own humanity, crushed him until there was nothing left of him. And thanks to you, who had breathed life into Joel even when the older Miller didn’t want you to, his older brother had slowly but steadily resurfaced. Joel wasn’t completely back to being his old self but was learning to with your help.

And now he had another chance at life, at having the family Joel always dreamed of and talked about. One, Tommy hoped, he hadn’t fucking ruined.

The engine wheezed after a sharp turn, the dam and the red-bricked building he knew like the palm of his hand coming into sight.

And just by the fence, there were five bodies lying on the floor.

With his heart climbing up his throat, Tommy braked suddenly, stopping a few yards away. Yanked the driver’s door open and jumped outside of the vehicle, quickly followed by Robert and Elijah.

Tommy unholstered his Glock, alert of his surroundings.

Please don’t let it be my brother or her, please don’t. Lord, please, if You’re still listening…

The cacophony of prayers repeated in his head in a sick loop, the desperation in them increasing with each step he took.

The moment they got close enough, Tommy swiftly recognised everyone. Laney and the rest of the group were sprawled on the snow, thick blood pooling underneath them. But neither of you were nowhere to be seen.

His eyes lingered on Laney’s body ― her eyes still open, observing the darkening sky above. A bullet perfectly buried between her brows, a trickle of blood running down her nose bridge and left cheek.

Even through the stinging sense of betrayal, Tommy grieved her death. She had kept him company when he felt lost, being the only shoulder he had relied on for the past few weeks. Despite their toxic relationship and never-ending fights over nonsense, Tommy had thought he could have a future with her.

That future had been cut short. And he couldn’t blame the hand that had killed Laney, whether that was Joel or you.

“Those motherfuckers,” Robert snarled. “They’ve done a proper number on Michael, his head is cracked open.”

While Elijah replied, Tommy’s solely focus was a sixth puddle of blood a few feet away from Laney. Smaller, the blood thicker and darker than what he had seen before. His pulse hastened wildly as his brain worked out all possibilities.

One of you was hurt. How badly, he didn’t know. He could only hope it was a milder injury, something easy to tend to and heal.

“We need to go after them. They must’ve taken the car with them,” Elijah trudged forward, the top of his boot brushing a fresher set of tyre tracks. “Looks like they went back south.”

“Let’s hurry then. Those bastards gotta pay for what they’ve done!”

Both men were fuming, irate even. And probably he should have been too, but his relief was much greater than his non-existent anger.

“Tommy, let’s go, move!”

Tommy’s eyes finally lifted from the pool of blood he had been eyeing too intently and settled on the backs of the men as they made their way back to the car.

Robert and Elijah wouldn’t rest until their friends were avenged. And knowing he had done more harm than good, Tommy couldn’t let that happen. He needed to make sure that both you and Joel would be safe from men like them ― like him.

His hand gripped the gun tighter as his finger slid to the trigger. Then shot twice consecutively, both men falling face-first onto the ground, while his heart pounded madly in his chest.

This was the only thing he could do for the both of you. The only good thing he would ever do for you.

At that exact moment, Tommy knew that there would be no redemption for his wicked soul if something bad and irreversible had happened to either of you. He could only hope that the two of you were okay.

The three of them, he corrected himself, fear taking hold of his being.

At some point during the car drive, you cried yourself to sleep. Exhaustion danced with your grief ― the sensation of impending doom clinging close to your heart. Perhaps if you closed your eyes, you would wake up from this nightmare and the dull ache blanketing your heart and numbing your mind would fade. Only if you were lucky.

But you weren’t. The moment you awakened, Joel carrying you somewhere, the full force of reality hit you again, the scarlet stain on your jeans a sorrowful reminder of what had happened. Tears held onto your lashes, threatening to freefall onto your already-drenched coat.

This couldn’t be ― the pain swallowing you whole like a shadow monster, its sharp teeth gnawing at you while you silently screamed in the void of your mind. Where your heart had been, there was a hole nothing could fill. It felt like the twisted arms of destiny had reached inside you and stole your happiness, leaving behind a hollowing darkness.

And despite the edges of the sinkhole in your chest cracking even further apart, there was also this cold, drowning lump you couldn’t shake the feeling of. It constricted your throat, to the point you were gasping for a gulp of air. Then your airways expanded suddenly, the knot dissolving and letting oxygen in, only to wail in the midst of the night.

Trembling in Joel’s arms, he hugged you tighter to his chest, the warmth pouring from him soothing the coldness your heart harboured.

“We’re almost there, baby,” Joel whispered, his lips pressing your forehead.

Wherever there was, you wanted to arrive somewhere safe where you could open the dams of hell and let pain take its course. Because holding all of this inside would drive you mad with woe.

Soon enough he placed you down on a soft surface. It took you a second to notice the walls around you ― it was a small living room, crowded with someone’s belongings. The ceiling was low, big wooden rafters holding it up above your heads. In any other circumstances, the place would have been a cozy getaway.

You crouched on the couch, hugging your knees with devoid eyes transfixed nowhere in particular. Perhaps, if you held your knees close enough to your chest, you would stop the pieces of you from falling all apart.

Joel squatted in front of you, your glassy orbs darting to his sad ones. They told you a story ― a life of loss, of grief. He didn’t need to say words for you to understand how much this hurt him too. And knowing you were not alone in your pain gave you some selfish relief, but it also added to your own sorrow.

Unwrapping one arm, your hand found his cheek, your thumb tracing a line on the bag under his eye. Swept away the lone tear clinging to his skin, feeling it like your own. Then he nuzzled against your palm, a second later kissing it and taking it between his hands.

“I love you,” he reminded you, a broken whisper that glued together some shattered pieces of your soul. “Whatever you need of me, I’ll do. I can give you space to be on your own or be by your side for however long you need me. Please, tell me.”

Your heart bled for your unborn child, but also for yourself and Joel. Even though the news had shocked you both first, the idea of raising a little one together had gotten you even closer. And despite the hardships, you did not want to let that go, let him go ― your connection to him, the yin to your yang, the yang to your yin.

So you pulled from the hands holding yours, silently asking him to join you on the couch. His steadfast presence filled the empty spot on the sofa, and he dragged you to the calmness between his arms. One hand on your crown, the other gently pressed on the small of your back.

No words were needed to be shared, silence speaking louder. Time was a haze, blurry on the edges, while you held each other. You would cry and Joel would eventually follow, your shared sorrow a reminder of why you should keep fighting ― together. Because no matter what had happened, you both would survive this. It seemed distant now, almost ethereal and unachievable, but the world you lived in wouldn’t let you sink in the pits of despair for long. Of that much you were sure.

When you calmed down a little, your eyes dried of tears, you looked up at Joel, your cheek nuzzled on his chest. His dull, chocolate eyes were clouded, and you knew his mind had taken him somewhere away from reality.

Now you somewhat understood how he felt, the sense of helplessness so paralyzing. You didn’t even dare to imagine how this loss would feel if you had spent years knowing and caring for a child ― devastating, agonising. And having to go through all of that, just because you appealed to his humanity―his love for family―, made you feel sick.

You should have listened when he was reluctant about finding Tommy. Perhaps if you hadn’t pushed, your reality would be very different now. But wanting to see the good side of people was innate to you, so you had convinced him to try and reunite with his brother.

Big mistake.

“I’m sorry,” you let out in a choked whisper.

Joel’s eyes regained part of their usual spark, quickly drifting down to you with a confused look.

“Why?” he asked, his thumb finding your cheek and drawing a delicate line on your skin.

“I shouldn’t have insisted on tracking Tommy down. I should have―”

“Don’t. This ain’t your fault, sweetheart. I know you meant well. This isn’t on you nor me,” his voice cracked a little. “This is on Tommy, on men like him. So fucking desperate to belong, he didn’t even consider us as family anymore.” He paused and you felt his inner struggle, the words clinging to the tip of his tongue like a raindrop teetering on the brink of a leaf. “He’s dead to me.”

His raw admission brought tears to your eyes again. You couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty for this outcome ― Joel had no blood family left.

Joel cradled your cheek, so your averted orbs met his.

“And that is not your fault either, do you understand me?”

“But―”

“No, baby. This was a long time coming. Ever since we arrived at Chicago, deep down I knew I had already lost him. God knows I tried to redirect him, to help him, we both did. But wouldn’t fucking listen to either of us. What he has done now, hurting you― hurting us like this, it’s the last straw,” Joel drew in a big breath, his thumb still stroking your cheek. “He may not have been the hand who… who murdered our child, but he was the instigator. I just can’t bel―” Joel paused when he heard your low sob and his body shifted slightly under you. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you. You’ve gotten enough to deal with.”

You shook your head no, your fingers wrapping around the wrist that held your face.

“You’re entitled to your feelings, Joel. I understand your rage. Believe me, I really do. I just don’t think I have it in me right now to feel anything else other than…” you trailed off, unsure of how to categorise the storm brewing inside you, “other than this gripping sadness,” admitting such thing out loud just made it even more real. “But I don’t want you to bottle up how you feel, so please don’t do it for my sake.”

He didn’t reply straight away, so in awe with you it warmed up a little the bitter cold nipping at your bones.

“Sometimes I think you’re too good to be true, too good for me,” Joel mumbled in a hum, pressing his lips on your forehead.

Even through the tears, through the pain, you smiled albeit weakly. Because it didn’t matter how dark it was getting in this heart of yours, Joel was able to shine a ray of light even during the darkest of times.

“I love you,” you muttered, hugging him tight.

Silence settled again, comforting and somewhat healing, until Joel broke it.

“If you’re feeling a tiny bit better, I’d like to get you out of those clothes and into clean ones, darlin’. I don’t want you to catch a cold and…”

The blood was still there, he didn’t need to finish. A sudden remainder of the piercing ache in your lower belly, burning and dull at the same time. Your grief was so loud, so overwhelming, you had barely paid attention to how you felt physically. And now that you were heeding the pain, it started to creep up on you.

“That’s a good idea,” you managed, sitting back up on the couch, breaking the physical contact with him.

“I’ll only be a second, you won’t even realise I’m gone,” Joel promised, and you nodded.

Joel got up and scavenged through his backpack, grabbing a small tin box, and then darted to the door. Thirty seconds later he was back and down on his knees a few feet away from you. He set up the gas canister on the floor, lit it on the lowest setting, and placed the tin tray on top, the snow slowly melting.

He then knelt in front of you, undoing the knots of your boots and putting them down on the floor. His steady hands helped you stand up so Joel could unbutton your jeans, gently pulling them down along with your underwear, seemingly unbothered by the thick, now dried blood.

You swallowed at the sight, his kind reverence a soothing balm on your aching heart. Your gaze looked up to the ceiling in a vain attempt to keep your tears at bay. Joel guided you back to sit down on the couch and veered around to dunk a clean rag in the lukewarm water. Then his attention turned to you and swept your skin clean with tender strokes.

The whole moment was so intimate, so raw, it made you cry a little more, but you hid your glassy eyes from him, keeping them on the wooden rafters as if their carved lines drove you somewhere far away from this heartbreaking moment.

Soon enough, Joel was done and shuffled through your rucksack to get a change of clothing. He slid your feet through the holes in the fresh panties lined with one of the few pads you had left, pushed them up to your knees, and repeated the same process with the clean trousers.

Only when he helped you get up to pull the clothes up to your hips, did he realise you were quietly sobbing again.

He buttoned your trousers for you, then cradled your face and kissed your tears goodbye.

It truly broke his heart seeing you like this. Knowing what you both could have had, but now didn’t. The ache only grew louder, having lost yet another soul to the misdeeds of mankind.

But when a lifetime of loss would have seemed daunting, holding you close to his chest reminded him of the reasons he would carry on. Broken and hollow, but he would keep going ― for you, but also for himself.

Joel hugged you on the sofa, hoping you would find some solace in his embrace. You had slowly drifted away to your dreams ― or so he hoped that they were not nightmares.

Suddenly you stirred, a quiet sob breaking through your chest, and he held you tighter. You blinked half awake, clutching at your chest. His lips hovered over your temple, whispering calming words until you settled back into a state of hypnagogia.

“We’ve got holes, but we carry on,” he murmured, more to himself than to you.

Hours went by, dawn breaking on the horizon, its orange and crimson lights filtering through the only window in the tiny cabin. Joel rubbed your back until your eyes fluttered open ― sleepy until reality knocked at your door. Your features folded slightly, and he knew you were trying your best to hold it together.

“Sorry to wake you, sweetheart,” he apologised, sitting up on the sofa with you in his arms. “It’s been a few hours, you should take another painkiller. I don’t want you to be in pain.”

You nodded with a heavy sigh when he got up to reach for the water bottle and the pills, offering them to you.

As you swallowed, Joel knew that his need for revenge paled in comparison to his need to care for you. As much as he wanted to go back and put a bullet in Tommy’s skull and whoever else remained from Laney’s group, he knew he couldn’t drag you into that. Wouldn’t put you through hell again. He meant it when he said that Tommy was dead to him ― you were his utmost priority, would always be.

As if you could read his mind, you looked at him askance as you placed the empty bottle on the coffee table in front.

“So… where…?”

“We go eastwards. We are only a couple of hours away from Boston. There’s a QZ there and although I’m not planning to get close, it might be handy having that place to run to if at some point shit hits the fan. I just don’t think that being out here completely on our own is a good idea right now,” he ventured, stroking your knee.

You slowly nodded, understanding he was trying to get you to safety and nowhere near Tommy.

“Sounds good,” you replied, unknowingly scratching your forearm.

Joel extended one hand and rolled up your sleeve. The wound was no longer bleeding and had completely healed. The scar had started fading a bit, the teeth marks were not so obvious anymore. The skin looked ragged and torn, sensitive to touch and itchy.

He bowed down to kiss the scar, his lips trailing the tissue, hoping it would calm the itch. Then sat back up to brush your lips with his.

“Are you sure? Otherwise, we can stay here a little longer―”

“No, I think you’re right,” you cut him off, a feeble smile dancing on your mouth. “It’s a good idea.”

Joel slowly nodded.

“Alright then, let me pack everything up and we’ll be in our way.”

A few hours later, when you were only half an hour away from Boston, the fuel indicator lit up on the dashboard. Your eyes had been glued to the world outside the passenger’s window, the last sign indicating that you just had crossed the boundary of Lincoln, Massachusetts.

“We’re running low in gas. Should stop and see if we can find some, or a different car. Or perhaps a place to stay for the time being, we’re close enough to Boston,” Joel said, removing the keys and the engine dying out.

He had veered into the verge, coming to a half between some evergreen bushes and trees.

“I also need to… to change,” you whispered, feeling the pad soaked with blood.

Joel eyed you, understanding. “We’ll find somewhere quiet too then.”

You zipped up your coat and joined him in the snow, backpack on your shoulders. Joel took your hand in his and walked along the side of the road. The houses were far apart from each other, just a few buildings here and there. But every car you both checked either had an empty tank or was unusable ― it seemed like the people from Boston had already ransacked everything in Lincoln.

A few more yards down the round found you in front of a fence.

“That’s weird,” Joel said, his lips twitching with worry.

“What is?” you asked, squeezing his hand tighter.

“Do you hear that?” he quieted down for a second.

Then you heard it: electricity humming.

“Is the fence electrified?” your brows furrowed deeper with your own question.

“Yeah,” Joel whispered, his free hand wrapping around the grip of his gun. “Seems like someone’s made home of these houses.”

You ventured a peek through the fence. It was a small cluster of houses, as if it was a gated community. But there was no one in the street, deserted as the rest of the town.

“Turn around and leave now. Don’t make me shoot,” someone suddenly shouted.

Joel quickly pushed you behind him, gun withdrew. Your heart rushed with the danger you had not seen yet.

Glancing over Joel’s shoulder, you saw another man quite a few feet away on the other side of the fence. He was smaller than Joel, a baseball cap shielding his face. He had a prominent beard and a sturdy build. From what you could guess, he would be in his early forties.

“I won’t say it again. Get the fuck out of here or I’ll kill you both,” the man advanced a few feet, a riffle pointing towards you both.

“Joel, let’s go before he changes his mind and starts shooting,” you pressed him.

Joel looked over his shoulder at you.

“But he may be able to help us. This looks to be well guarded, he’s even got cameras in the perimeter,” he pointed towards one of them in the fence. “Let me talk to him.”

“You sure about this?” you muttered, unsure about how the man would react if asked to let you in. Joel gave you a nod. “Alright, yeah.”

Joel sheathed his gun and raised his hands, facing the man.

“We mean no trouble, sir. We are only looking for a safe place to spend the night,” he appealed.

“I ain’t sharing shit with you two. Get lost,” the man barked back, looking through the peephole of his riffle.

“I swear to God we just want somewhere to sleep for a bit. My partner and I need to rest, and with so many motherfuckers out there, I’m just not sure we can fend them all off on our own. Just one night, that’s all we’re asking.”

Joel was really trying to reason with him, but you could see he was not getting through. And as the back and forth continued between the two men, an idea came to mind. It would mean being vulnerable with someone you didn’t know if you could trust, but if it meant getting off the streets and getting some rest…

“Sir,” you stepped to one side, hands visible so the man would see you had no gun. “Please, this is Joel,” then you introduced yourself. “We’ve just been through the fucking wringer. I had a miscarriage yesterday and I am about to bleed through my fucking jeans,” the words came out choked, and Joel quickly wrapped an arm around your waist, his presence a much-needed reassurance. “I just want somewhere where I can clean myself, change, cry my fucking eyes out and perhaps get a couple of hours of sleep. That’s all we’re asking. Please.”

You were barely able to keep the tears at bay, but you did, albeit with trembling lips. You leaned on Joel for support, and he held you tight to his side. Your eyes were fixed on the other man across the fence, who had gotten a few yards closer now.

He deliberated for two long minutes until he finally put his riffle down.

“Okay. One night and then you’re out,” you sighed with relief, the prospect of some comfort very soothing. “Let me open the gate.”

He reached towards his back and pressed some buttons on a control. A few yards to your right, a screeching noise announced the gate opening.

Joel and you walked towards it, and the moment you were in, the man pressed another button, and the gate closed behind you.

“I’ll need your guns. And knives. Whatever you have, I’ll return it to you tomorrow when you’re on your way,” the stranger rasped.

There was something about him that made you trust him. He seemed to be a good man, although a bit of a crazy prepper with all this technology.

Both of you handed everything to him, except for the hunting knife that Joel kept in his boot. You both knew better than trusting someone blindly.

“I’ll show you to where you can stay tonight,” he motioned his hand forward and both of you followed. “Name’s Bill, by the way.”

“Thank you, Bill,” Joel and you said in unison.

“Do you have something warm to drink?” you asked Bill as you came down the stairs.

He and Joel were waiting in the landing, the tension between both men could be cut with a knife. You could bet that they had not spoken one single word since you were gone to freshen up.

Bill cleared his throat, then grunted a husky “yes” and trudged towards what you assumed was the kitchen.

Joel took your hand in his and walked with you, his movements rigid, uneasy.

“Got tea, coffee, soup.”

For a moment you were overwhelmed with the choices. This man had more commodities than anyone else you had met so far. The house was tidy and warm, clean. He had running hot water, something you had not come across since leaving Chicago. Damn, he even had fucking pads to offer you.

“I’d kill for a black coffee right now,” you admitted, slightly excited with the idea.

Bill’s blue eyes darted to Joel.

“Same thing,” he replied succinctly as you both settled on a couple of chairs around a table. He then turned to you and whispered, “how are you?”

Joel probably had noticed your reddened eyes from crying under the hot stream of water.

“Better. Had a hot shower and took the last painkiller,” you replied in a hush.

“I’ve got some ibuprofen,” Bill said out of nowhere. “I wasn’t eavesdropping, you guys whisper too fucking loud.”

His retort made you smile feebly. Bill reminded you of a cat you had when you were a kid ― the little beast would hiss when approached, snarl like a demon even, but once it knew you, it would not stop purring and asking to be petted. His body language spoke loudly for him ― stiff, almost robotic, as if he had forgotten how to be around other humans. You could tell he was extremely reticent and wary of you, as he should be ― for all he knew, you could be the reincarnation of Bonnie and Clyde. But Bill had this charm about him, as if he couldn’t help himself but offer you some hospitality.

“I mean, if you could give me some before we leave tomorrow, I’d greatly appreciate it, Bill.”

Bill just hmphed before returning his attention to the pot. Soon enough, the air smelled like freshly brewed coffee, and he handed you each a steaming mug. You inhaled the aroma, your eyes closing with delight, before taking a sip.

Bill settled on a chair opposite you, his eyes moving from you to Joel, then back at you. You were sure he was studying you, deciding if you were worth of his reluctant kindness. You wondered how many people he had found stranded at his gate ― had he ever open them to anyone? It didn’t look like it.

“You heading to Boston QZ?”

“Not sure we want to venture that far in. Our idea was to stay in the area until we decide what to do,” Joel explained, holding the mug close to his mouth.

“It’s not the best place, the people I have crossed paths with…” Bill shrugged. “You’re not from around here, are you?”

“No, we come from Texas. Joel’s from Austin, I come from Houston,” you said before sipping again, the hot liquid burning the tip of your tongue.

“That’s a long fucking way from home,” Bill noted with a frown.

“Tell us about it. It feels like we’ve spent a lifetime on the roads.”

“Bet you do.”

“What about you? Are there any other people here living with you?” you asked curiously, sipping away.

Bill took a moment to reply, his thick brows knitting together.

“It’s only me,” he finally said. “Don’t like company if I can help it.”

You hummed in agreement. “Can’t blame ya. There are monsters out there, and I’m not talking clickers…” you voice eventually died out, remembering the events of yesterday.

Joel squeezed your knee slightly, a reminder that he was still by your side and would always be. Bill must have understood where your mind had drifted off, because he stirred in his seat uncomfortably.

“If you don’t mind me chipping in… I hope those monsters are fucking dead. Doing something like that to someone― fucking hell, hope you’ve killed ‘em.”

“Most of them we have,” Joel said between gritted teeth, taking over the conversation when you fell silent. “Whoever remains, they were not following, if that’s what worries you.”

“Worries me? Nah. I’ve got a fucking arsenal here,” Bill chuckled then snorted, his taut façade momentarily falling before he pulled a composed, deadpan expression again. “Could kill them all before they even got within a mile of my town.”

Joel and you kept the small talk alive for a while, sharing some anecdotes here and there, to get Bill to open up a bit and build some rapport.

At some point he got up and cooked some food too, a proper meal that both of you devoured in under ten minutes. Then helped Bill cleaning up and had another coffee around the table, with a fire lit nearby in the chimney.

“You both go have some rest. I’ll keep watch tonight,” Bill offered when you stood up to retreat to your room upstairs. “You look like you need it more than I do.”

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