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justastraymoa · 21 days ago

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Unwilling Alpha

Chapter 8

The reveal pt 1

Warnings ⚠️ swears, abo dynamics, mentions of slave trade, mentions of rape, mentions of abuse, mentions of death, fear, manipulation.

Nothing within reflects anyone or anything irl. Pics off pinterest.

🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱🧱

I took a few minutes to get ready. Make my hair presentable, double check the sweater sat right, perfectly framing the soul marks I was meant to show off.

Then I sat my camera up, facing the blank wall I was going to use as a backdrop in leu of actually having my usual backdrops. I adjusted the lighting using the bedside lamps to give my skin a soft warm sunset glow in the pictures. Giving the whole picture a soft vibe.

I had a remote clicker for my camera that I mainly used when dealing with children, but it worked with this too. I sat cross legged facing the wall, trying to envision good poses I would usually instruct my subjects into if I were just taking photos at the studio.

Even though the sweater was high necked in the front and long sleeved, I still felt exposed with it being backless. My face flamed red every time I shifted into a slightly different pose. I couldn’t actually see how the poses were working without moving to look after every photo, so instead I opted to try a bunch of poses. This also meant that each Omega could choose their own favorite pose and photo, and they would all be matchy matchy with their posts.

Ten minutes and 27 photos later I was done. Hopefully I got at least 8 good photos in there somewhere. There was no way I was going to do this again if there wasn’t. This would be a moment I look back on and still get embarrassed after 5 years.

I threw on a sweatshirt and grabbed the stuff to edit the photos on the TV again. The boys seemed to enjoy watching me edit the photos last time, and they could choose their photo at the same time. Plus, the big screen made the editing so much easier.

When I opened the door, I nearly jumped out of my skin. All 8 Omegas were standing in the simply lit hall outside my door. “What in the actual fuck are you doing?” I gasped holding my chest. My heart was racing out of my chest.

“You were taking a long time.” Hyunjin explained completely unapologetic to taking years off my lifespan.

“So, you decided giving me a heart attack was the best thing to get me to hurry?”

There was a series of shrugs from them, and I rolled my eyes so hard it actually hurt. “Get in the living room!” I snapped waving my hand at them.

“I made you some chicken. You can eat it while we look at your pictures.” Lee Know said, handing me a bowl as we settled back in the living room.

“Thank you, Lee Know.” I smiled at him gratefully. I sat back and ate a piece. It was melt in your mouth good-as usual. The food is another thing I had missed, though not nearly as much. It was so different here than at home – or my previous home I should say.

“Holy shit! Y/n! What the fuck?” Seungmin exclaimed when the first picture loaded.

Chan whistled. “This is borderline indecent!”

“Well, I needed to show the marks! They go down most of my spine!” I defended myself feeling self-conscious.

The picture in question wasn’t even close to indecent. I had one arm across my body and softly placed over my ribs and my head was slightly tilted back and turned toward the camera, but not enough so that you could see my face. Surprisingly, I kind of liked it. Turned out better than I expected.

“You’re sure you’re not a model?” Changbin asked.

I felt my cheeks start to warm. “Shuddup guys! I just know how to pose people. It was part of my job!”

“Y/N, I don’t say this lightly, but you are a natural model. You make it look effortless.” Hyunjin praised as they flipped through more photos.

“Thank you.” I responded blushing deeper and clearing my throat.

The next several hours were spent choosing photos and then editing them. They each captioned the photo ‘Stray Kids found their Alpha!’ and posted their photos at the same time.

I again made sure to like each one.

Then we sat back and watched STAY and netizens go absolutely berserk. It was kind of entertaining to watch how unhinged they all got. And STAY was pretty much throwing a worldwide party to celebrate the news.

STAYs jealousy and dislike for change was overshadowed by the fact that Stray Kids was not being forced to disband – for now. Some even claimed that waiting until the eleventh hour was very on brand for Stray Kids, but I didn’t see it.

The rumor mill started working overtime almost immediately. There was a rather large faction that believed their Alpha was another idol and that’s why it took so long to bond. They had to negotiate and adjust all the contracts accordingly.

Another rumor with a lot of believers was that they found their Alpha in the slave and sex trade ring. They concluded that it took so long because they had to find a way to free the Alpha. Some said they bought them, some said they snuck them out and helped them escape. The most generous one was that they worked with the authorities to bring the ring down. A handful of fanfictions were inspired by that last one.

Their attacks and hate on me wouldn’t start until the euphoria of Stray Kids staying wore off. Maybe, if I was lucky, a couple weeks. At the very least until I was revealed. And then I could only hope their disappointment over the true story being revealed wouldn’t start a revolt. Netizens could be very cruel.

“Well, we only have until tomorrow until we announce our mini tour. So, enjoy the last of your relaxation.” Chan announced with a sigh.

I perked up. “A mini tour?” I had never even been to a concert. Too broke to go to a location they were at. Too broke for a ticket at all, actually.

“It’s a surprise for STAY. A kind of celebration that we are back.” Han explained.

“But you didn’t know if you’d be back.” Did they somehow know I would come back? How? I didn’t even know.

“We planned the tour when we first went on hiatus, under the assumption that we would be back.” Chan shrugged.

“The power of positive thinking?”

“Hey, it worked.”

I snorted but couldn’t deny it. I have always believed in positive thinking, this just felt more like a miracle.

“So, lots of practice then.” Lee Know said in confirmation sounding a little relieved.

“Finally!” Hyunjin cheered.

I smiled. It was good to see them so excited about getting back to work. They were all so passionate about what they do – their craft, if you will. They truly loved what they did. And put their everything into what they created and put out into the world.

“Cool. Then while you are practicing, I’m going to go home a-!” I was interrupted when Seungmin tackled me suddenly. He maneuvered so he took the brunt of the hit when we landed on the floor.

Several voices cried out our names at once and I blinked up into Seungmins terrified eyes before they disappeared. He hugged me tightly, fingers clutching at the hoodie I was wearing.

There was some chaos as the others alternated between yelling at Seungmin and fussing over me. However, I clearly heard Seungmin when he spoke in my ear. “You can’t leave us again.”

Realizing what happened I wrapped my arms around him and ran my hands up and down his spine once before gripping the back of his neck, right over his mark. His body immediately relaxed on top of me, but he still didn’t let go.

“Shh, my Omega. I’m not leaving forever. I need to pack up my things and wrap up my old life. Then I’ll be back.” I promised lowly, keeping my hand on his mark. “A week tops.”

He shook his head. “Too long.”

“The sooner I get there, the sooner I can get back.”

The others managed to get us into a sort of sitting position, but Seungmin refused to let go. “You can’t leave! You can’t leave again!”

Giving up, Chan sat next to us. “We can hire people to pack up your things and whatever.”

“There, see. Now I don’t have to go.” I whispered to Seungmin giving his neck a gently squeeze.

Slowly, in small increments, Seungmin eased his grip and released me, looking embarrassed and slightly glassy eyed. “It’s okay, Seungmin.” I soothed reaching out to smooth his hair from his face.

“He could have been gentler.” Lee Know pointed out, annoyed. He stood nearby; arms crossed.

“He protected me from the fall. And I should have gone about announcing that differently since everything is still so fresh.”

“It’s just…letting you out of our sight is going to be hard for a while.” Chan explained.

“Try impossible. She leaves the room and I get anxious!” Changbin added. Han nodded beside him.

“It’s not possible to always be in the same room, but I’ll try to let you know where I am. And not be gone long.” I said looking to each of them.

They looked unhappy but resigned. They knew just as well as I did that, I couldn’t be with them all the time. There would come a time when they separate themselves for their own things and I can’t be multiple places at once. We would have to decide who I will go with and when.

“Now, Seungmin, come with me please.” I stood and held a hand out to him. “We are heading to the bathroom. I am going to give you a shampoo massage.”

“OOO! Can I get one?” Felix asked. “That sounds so good!”

Seungmin took my hand and stood as I answered. “After Minnie.”

I set Seungmin up, so he comfortably lay with his head over my tub. Using my detachable showerhead, I soaked his hair before lathering it generously with shampoo. While the shampoo worked its magic, I fished one of my face masks from my toiletry bag and smoothed it over his face.

He caught my hand as I moved away. “I’m sorry. The last time you were here, I – I’m sorry for how I acted.”

I smiled at him softly. “I understand your actions. I was never upset with you.” I assured him, rubbing my thumb along the back of his hand. “We can start fresh now that I’m here to stay.”

Seungmin nodded. “Okay. Thank you.”

“No need for thanks. Now, relax and enjoy.”

I got back to work, humming softly. I could hear the others behind me in the guest room, unable to stay far away for long, but giving us some one-on-one time anyways. As much as they were able to. They stayed quiet so they didn’t disturb us. It was a nice, warm moment filled with love and care all around.

Seungmin seemed to be enjoying himself, so I took my time, alternating between massaging and gently scratching his soapy scalp, then moving down to massage his neck and shoulders as well. Then repeated the process with conditioner, adding in an ear massage.

“Mmm. You’re very good at this.” Seungmin hummed as I rinsed.

I smiled. “Thank you. I’m out of practice. I used to do this for my mother when she got a migraine.”

“Where is your mother? You never mentioned your parents before.”

I paused before patting his hair with a towel. “She passed when I was 14. Brain aneurysm. Dad never recovered. He had a heart attack 5 years later.”

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pried.” Seungmin sat up, turning to me.

Smiling brightly, I waved his words off. “Don’t worry, Minnie. I’m happy they are together again.” I wasn’t lying. I had long since come to terms with losing them.

“Now,” I draped the damp towel over his head. “Send Felix in.”

Felix was almost as still as Sungmin had been. I had no idea he could be so still and quiet. He was always bubbling over with life, with movement. To witness him so still and silent was unnerving.

“So, I don’t know how any of this works. What can I expect over the next few weeks?

“We will need to link you to our calendars, so you have our schedules.” Felix started. “But the next few days are going to be filled with set list planning, dance practices, and making sure we still remember the lyrics and perfecting the singing.”

“So, I just…follow you around?”

“For now, I guess.” He shrugged.

It honestly sounded boring. Just sitting around while they practiced and worked. I would just be in the way most likely. And there was no way they would let me stay here. I couldn’t even leave the room at this point.

Whatever. It is what it is for now. I’m new to this, learning everything as I go. I would eventually find my spot in this part of their lives. Where I could help and not be a burden. Hopefully.

“What about when I’m revealed?”

Chan joined us, sitting on the floor next to the tub. He must have been listening in to the conversation.

“We have a group live planned already for tomorrow, when our hiatus officially ends. We can reveal you then and figure things out after that.” He answered.

I dried Felixs hair with a dry towel while I let that sink in. In just a day a secret I spent most of my life hiding will be revealed. It almost didn’t feel real. Like this was actually someone else’s life and I was just watching it from the sidelines.

“Is there any way, at all, that I can not be revealed?” I asked with no real hope. They always had a camera on them, and they always wanted me with them. Therefore, I would always have a camera on me.

More than that, the law states I must go with them. Stupid outdated law.

“We will be right there with you.” He said not even bothering to answer my question. We both already knew the answer anyways.

“It will be okay, Y/n.” Felix assured, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and giving me a smile.

“I swear to god, if you guys break your promise and leave me, I’m running away!” I threatened with every bit of seriousness I could muster.

They both chuckled. “Yeah, you’re going to be fine.” Chan reaffirmed.

Back in the guest room the Omegas had set up the makeshift beds again. “Sleepover?” At our ages?” I joked.

“You are never too old for a sleepover. Especially if it’s with you.” I.N declared from his nest of blankets.

I rolled my eyes. “If any of you snore, I’m kicking you out on your ass.”

Even though I slept most of the day, I was still ready to crawl under the blankets. Since I didn’t sleep on the plane and exhausted myself bonding, my body didn’t know which way was up right now. Though this may help get my sleep schedule on this time zone just a bit faster.

“No playing around. We have an early day tomorrow. Get to sleep.” Chan ordered. The room bustled into activity as the Omegas got ready for bed. I changed into my makeshift pjs. Turns out I didn’t pack any actual pjs, but I found something that worked so its whatever.

I crawled into the bed and faceplanted into the pillow, sighing loudly into it. It smelled strongly of Seungmin. So much so that I didn’t think he let anyone else sleep here since I left.

Unwilling Alpha Taglist: @xxeiraxx @hanniemylovelyquokka @breadedloafs @songleepark @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @hyunjinhoexxx @kayleefriedchicken @vietjeb @hityoulikebahng @juju-227592 @ionlyeverwantedtobeyourequal @royal-shinigami @bangchansfavoritenoona @straykidslvr @bookswillfindyouaway @h0rnyp0t @Svmmerstime @jennibahng @kpopandmusicpassion @jasmin-loves-k-pop @cookey-lock @possum-playground @demigoddreamon-blog @rei-reia @dreamerwasfound @jasmin-loves-k-pop @ms-flowergirl

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joelsrose · 2 months ago

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Roses & Rust

Eek!! Guys this is my first ever Joel slow burn fanfic I hope you guys enjoy !! I have the next few chapters ready to post so please let me know if you want me to post them!!! Super slow burn slay .. enjoy babies xx this is not super accurate to the time jump and age in the game and show - reader is late 20s and Joel is late 40’s early 50’s!!

Next chapter

Summary: In a world ravaged by infection and chaos, survival is all that remains. Once a doctor with a life filled with love and promise, you've spent the last eight years fighting your way through a broken landscape, haunted by the loss of everything you once held dear. When a chance encounter with Joel Miller and Tess brings you into the Boston QZ, your journey takes a turn you never expected. As you both navigate the dangers of a post-apocalyptic world, an unexpected romance begins to bloom, fragile and uncertain, against the backdrop of survival.

Chapter 1: Thorns of Survival

Survival. That was all your life had been for the last eight years. Every step, every breath, every decision—focused solely on staying alive. You grunted as you trudged through the overgrown streets, boots caked in mud, legs heavy with exhaustion. The worn-out, hand-drawn map in your hand was a relic from a raider you’d killed days ago—maybe weeks. Time had become meaningless, lost in the blur of surviving. All you could focus on was your destination: the Boston QZ.

The city loomed ahead, a jagged silhouette against the dull, gray sky. Its once-proud buildings, now hollowed-out husks, stood like tombstones marking the death of the world you once knew. You pulled your jacket tighter around yourself, the chill creeping in as the wind picked up. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of your pack digging into your shoulders, but you pushed forward, driven by the faint glimmer of hope that the QZ might offer something—anything—resembling stability.

But that was all it was now—just survival. There was a time, eight years ago, when your life had been so much more than that. You were barely 23, freshly graduated from med school, and engaged to the love of your life. Back then, your future had been bright, full of promise. You’d worked so hard, every hour spent studying, every sacrifice made, all to build a life you could be proud of. The career, the home, the family—you had it all mapped out.

And then the outbreak happened.

You hadn’t been prepared for how quickly it would all crumble. One day, you were planning a wedding, discussing where you’d go on your honeymoon. The next, the world had descended into chaos. The infection spread like wildfire, burning through cities, turning people into monsters. The man you’d planned to spend your life with—your future—was ripped away from you in a brutal instant. The infection didn’t even give you time to say goodbye. You could still hear his voice, sometimes, echoing in the back of your mind, telling you everything would be alright. But it wasn’t. It never would be again.

The ache of his loss never left you. It just dulled, becoming part of you, settling in the empty spaces where your future used to be. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the memory of his face, the way he used to make you laugh, the plans you had both dreamed of. You didn’t let yourself think about it too often—not anymore. It hurt too much. There was no room for that kind of pain in this world. It would swallow you whole if you let it.

Your hand instinctively tightened around the strap of your backpack, feeling the reassuring weight of the medical supplies inside—your last real bargaining chip. An assortment of drugs, benzos, antibiotics. Enough to trade for ration cards, enough to buy you time. You’d managed to hold onto them through every close call, every brush with the infected and the living threats alike. That was your edge, your way in.

As you approached the towering walls of the QZ, the scene before you was bleak. Guards patrolled the perimeter, their faces hard, their eyes scanning the crowd with the kind of weariness that came from years of seeing too much. People milled about, dirty, tired, hungry. You didn’t stand out. You were just one more lost soul looking for a way to survive.

A guard stepped forward, stopping you with a rifle slung across his chest. The scanner in his hand beeped to life as he raised it to your forehead. You stood still, barely breathing, until the small device let out a soft beep—green.

“Move along,” he muttered, not even sparing you a glance as he waved you through.

You stepped past the gate, feeling the weight of the city settle around you. Welcome to Boston.

•••

Your living space was barely more than a box. The apartment, if you could even call it that, was wedged in one of the many crumbling buildings in Area 4, packed with people like you—survivors, or at least, those trying to be. The building was a decaying relic of a forgotten world, its walls cracked and peeling, the floors groaning underfoot with every step, as if the weight of too many broken lives was pressing down on it.

Inside, the room was a suffocating, grim little square. A single cot was shoved against the wall, the mattress so thin it felt like you were lying on the floor itself. In one corner, a rusted sink dripped relentlessly, a slow, rhythmic reminder that time was passing—whether you wanted it to or not. Above it hung a small mirror, cracked down the center. You caught your reflection as you passed by, your braid fraying, dark circles hanging like shadows under your eyes. You barely recognized yourself anymore. That bright-eyed girl from eight years ago—freshly graduated, engaged, so full of hope—felt like a ghost haunting someone else’s life.

A small window, smudged and grimy, let in just enough gray light to remind you there was a world outside. But the view wasn’t much—just crumbling concrete and the ever-present silhouettes of soldiers patrolling below.

The few belongings you had were scattered on a makeshift shelf: an old, dog-eared Murakami novel, a half-melted candle, a crumpled photo of a past life. Everything here felt temporary, fleeting.

Under the poor excuse for a bed, you’d stashed your most valuable possession—your bag of medications and supplies. Hidden away, out of sight. In a place like this, trust was a luxury you couldn’t afford.

The Boston QZ felt like a prison. Every inch of it was crawling under the weight of control. Soldiers were everywhere—stoic, unflinching, rifles always at the ready, their eyes sweeping over the crowds with cold detachment.

You never went anywhere without feeling their gaze on you. They were always watching, waiting for someone to slip up. And when they did, the consequences were brutal. You’d seen it in your first few days—one wrong beep from a scanner, one foot out of line, and that was it. No second chances. No mercy. The executions were swift, cold, and left a weight in the air that lingered long after the bodies were gone.

Curfew was like a countdown to death. 6:00 PM to 6:00 AM. No exceptions. You’d watched as people scrambled to get indoors, their eyes darting nervously at the darkening sky, fear written in every step. No one wanted to test the military’s patience. You certainly didn’t.

For the first few weeks, you did what everyone else did—kept your head down, worked random jobs, and stayed in the shadows. The QZ was a labyrinth of desperation, everyone clawing for a foothold. The ration lines seemed to stretch forever, and the food was barely enough to keep people alive, let alone thriving.

But you quickly realized that wasn’t going to cut it. Not if you wanted more than just survival.

You spent your time observing, slipping through the cracks of the city, watching. Areas 1, 3, and 4 were heavily controlled, military checkpoints at every turn. But Area 5—that was different. It was a world unto itself, tucked away from the watchful eyes of FEDRA. The black market thrived here, an underground pulse of illicit trades and dangerous deals. People did what they had to. And you knew you’d have to do the same.

That was when you saw them.

You didn’t know their names yet, but you noticed how they moved through the market with a calm, quiet authority—like they owned it. The woman was tall, sharp-eyed, her voice low but commanding as she negotiated trades with surgical precision. She knew how to read people, how to get what she wanted without ever raising her voice.

The man was quieter, in his late 40s maybe, with a patchy beard of graying hair and hands that looked like they’d seen more than their fair share of rough work. He didn’t need to speak. His presence alone parted crowds, people stepping aside without a word, their eyes flicking nervously in his direction as if they knew better than to cross him.

You watched them for days, curiosity gnawing at you. Who were they? How had they carved out a space for themselves in this cutthroat world? They were always together, moving in sync, but their relationship was unclear. Partners? Lovers? Friends? You didn’t know—and for some reason, it bothered you that you couldn’t tell.

But one thing was certain: they weren’t just surviving. They were thriving. And if you wanted to last here, you needed to figure out how.

•••

The sun was just beginning to set, casting long shadows across the streets as the QZ slowly shifted from its harsh, daylight routine into something even darker. You stood by your window, watching the light fade, waiting for the right moment. The curfew would soon push everyone inside, and the soldiers would become more scarce. You’d been observing their patrols for days, mapping out the routes they took, the blind spots they didn’t bother covering. After all, Area 5 was its own beast, and even FEDRA seemed to know it wasn’t worth patrolling too heavily.

This wasn’t just a gamble—it was the result of days of careful planning. You had finally managed to set up your first trade, something you never would have attempted when you first arrived in the QZ. The world of smuggling and black-market dealings had been foreign to you then, a stark contrast to your life as a doctor. But now, with ration cards running low and survival becoming more desperate by the day, you had no choice but to adapt.

When the streets were finally cloaked in darkness, you grabbed the bag of benzos from under your bed. Your heart hammered in your chest as you slid the strap over your shoulder, casting a glance at the small mirror by the sink.

The alleyways were quieter now, the usual shuffle of desperate people retreating behind closed doors. The only sound was the distant hum of generators and the occasional clatter of boots on concrete. You took the path you’d memorized, the one that snaked through the backstreets where FEDRA never seemed to bother. Every step felt heavier than the last, your nerves gnawing at you. But you kept going.

The alley where the trade would go down was just ahead. Dark and narrow, it was tucked between two abandoned buildings, far from the reach of the patrols. You’d seen it used before—traders slipping in and out, never lingering too long. It seemed perfect for what you needed, but still, the unease in your stomach hadn’t left.

You arrived first, of course. You leaned against the damp brick wall, the weight of the bag heavy against your side as you waited. Your breath was shallow, hands slightly trembling as you clutched the strap tighter. You tried to shake it off. You’d seen others make trades here—dangerous deals, sure, but ones that had paid off.

But as the minutes ticked by, the unease twisted deeper.

He was late.

The alley was darker than you expected, shadows swallowing everything except the faint glow of the streetlight far at the entrance. When he finally appeared, slithering out of the shadows, his grin was wide and crooked, eyes gleaming with something you didn’t like.

“Well, if I knew my trader was such a fine young thing, I would've dressed up for the occasion,” he drawled, his voice dripping with false charm.

Your stomach twisted, regret settling in like a heavy stone. This was a mistake.

You steeled yourself, jaw tight, and handed him the bag. “I’ve got your stuff.”

His smirk deepened as he took it from you, the way his eyes lingered making your skin crawl. “Relax, darlin’. Doesn’t have to be all business,” he murmured, stepping closer, his fingers brushing your arm.

Your blood ran cold. His hand lingered too long, his body closing the space between you, and you felt panic surge. You’d faced the infected, raiders, betrayal—but men like him were something worse. They looked at you like you were nothing but an opportunity. Your heart raced, but your feet stayed frozen, rooted to the ground by fear.

And then, a voice cut through the dark.

“Let her go.”

The voice was low, steady, with a hint of an accent—something southern, but rough around the edges. It sent a chill down your spine.

The thug stiffened, his smirk fading as he glanced over your shoulder. You turned slowly, and there he was—the man you’d been watching for weeks. Tall, broad-shouldered, his eyes cold and sharp as steel. The weight of his presence was enough to make the trader in front of you hesitate.

“This isn’t your business, man,” the thug sneered, though there was a crack of fear in his voice.

The man took a step forward, his hand resting casually on the gun at his hip. “It is now.”

The tension in the air was thick, almost tangible. The thug wasn’t stupid. He knew when he was outmatched. With a frustrated growl, he tossed the bag of benzos at your feet and slunk back into the shadows.

You stood there, heart pounding, too shocked to even say thank you. The man stepped forward, his eyes flicking down at the bag before meeting yours. His gaze was piercing, and you felt like he could see right through you—like he knew exactly who you were and everything you’d been through.

“Next time,” he said quietly, his voice steady, “watch who you deal with.”

And just like that, he turned and disappeared into the shadows, as easily as he had arrived.

You stood there, shaken to your core, but with one thing clear in your mind: your world had just collided with his.

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