#bloody panic disorder

[chargedeck]

glitter texts i made :3

[alarrylarrie]

.

[harryslittledaydreamer]

His Sunflower...

Summary: Everyone knew of superstar Harry Styles. Everyone knows he has people working for him behind the scenes. However, not everyone knows who his secret lyricist is. Her name never in any credits, never mentioned, and never once in the media. But that's how she likes it.

THIS STORY INCLUDES: trauma, SA, muteness, smut, relationships, talks of mental health(anxiety, depression, panic disorder), and death(no main characters)

........................................................

"Hey y/n/n," the familiar deep voice sounded tiredly behind me. I turned my attention from the piano in front of me to the green-eyed brunette in the doorway, making his way into the studio. I looked in his direction, never meeting his eyes, gave a slight small smile and nodded in acknowledgement.

Turning back to the keys, I continued playing a melody I had started early this morning. Grabbing my notebook from beside me, I began writing some lyric ideas down, when suddenly I felt a presence overlooking my shoulder.

"Mitch and Sarah are coming in a few minutes to work on some pieces, do you need anything," Harry asked with a tired but fond smile. I shook my head politely and he nodded, walking away.

—

Let me backtrack a little. I've been Harry's lyricist/songwriter for about a month now, however, I've never spoken a word to anyone since being here. Well, actually, I haven't spoken in about five years, and with me currently being twenty-two, that has been since I was seventeen. I began posting melodies and lyrics on a website, and Harry's producer, Alex, stumbled across me one day, and messaged me on Instagram, asking if I would want to write for Harry. Immediately I turned the offer down due to my muteness and social anxiety, but with a lot of persuasion and going back and forth, I reluctantly agreed. A week after that, he invited me to a cafe to meet up with himself and Harry. Alex, could definitely tell that I wasn't a physical contact person, and opted for a polite head nod as enough of an introduction rather than a hand shake. Harry followed suit with a smile, though not without some curiosity.

Our initial meeting wasn't long seeing as I didn't talk. Alex went over some things, and Harry talked about what he was looking for, to which I nodded and smiled. At the end of the meeting, I typed a quick 'thank you' on my phone and smiled at both of them. The following day, Alex invited me to the studio, and the rest is history.

—

"Hey y/n/n, hey Harry," Sarah greeted with a wide grin in both of our directions. I gave a little wave, and Harry went in for a friendly hug while patting Mitch on the shoulder. After the greeting encounter, everyone got in their space and began messing around with their instrument.

After about an hour or so of writing and switching to play different melody ideas, I stood from the piano bench, and made my way over to Harry. His green orbs looked down at me, and I handed out my notebook with some lyrics I had written.

Licking his lips and picking his lip, he began reading the script. After what felt like an eternity, he looked up.

"Y/n, this is absolutely bloody brilliant," his deep British voice sounded. I offered him a small smile in return.

"Guys come over here, look what y/n/n wrote, " he spoke motioning for Mitch and Sarah. They got up and walked over to us, and began reading my notebook. Waving my hand a little to get their attention, I motioned them over to follow me to the piano. I sat down with their eyes on the back of my head, and began playing the melody for the song. On the last note, I paused and looked behind me. Each of them had tears threatening to spill down their faces. I'm guessing my look of alarm made Harry snap out of it, and he gradually started to clap.

"y/n, that was beautiful, bloody perfect," he said fondly grinning. Mitch and Sarah nodded agreeing with Harry. Mitch slipped from the group walking over to his guitar. He began to play some chords syncing to what chords I played on the piano. For some time, he messed around, came up with a cool picking pattern, and that is how From the Dining Table, my first song written for Harry styles, was born.

……

2 weeks later…

Myself, along with Harry's other band members, were called in for a meeting this morning. No one was told what this meeting consisted of, or the importance of it.

Gathering my tote bag, with some essentials stuffed in it, I slipped my converse on, took a deep breath, and made my way out of my apartment. I don’t drive, so I walk everywhere, including the studio. Upon approaching the building, I spotted Mitch and Sarah laughing about something walking through the front doors. Watching my footsteps until I reached the double doors, I felt my heart begin to race. I was nervous that maybe they were letting some of us go, or the team wasn’t doing well enough. Overwhelmed with my thoughts, with my eyes on the floor, I ran into a figure.

“Whoa, hey y/n/n, careful love, you okay?” a concerned Harry chuckled a little while placing his hands on my shoulders to steady me. Eyes wide with fear of retaliation on his part, I immediately stumbled back away from him with a curt nod, and continued making my way to the conference room.

Eventually, we all settled in and sat around a large table, everyone seemingly a little confused on why we were all there.

“Hello everyone, today, we are announcing to you all that we will be going on tour in six months from now. You all have been working tirelessly, and we thank you for that. With that said, we all need to be cracking down on this new record,” Jeff, Harry’s manager announced with a big grin plastered on his face.

A round of excited applause went around and everyone congratulated Harry with hugs and words of gratitude. Staying in my seat in the far corner, I looked up and met eyes for the first time with the green eyed Brit. For the split second he caught my eye, I think he saw the fear and anxiety behind them. Touring is a huge thing, for any artist, especially someone the size of Harry. Artists are always creating new music, so having a songwriter along the ride will hopefully aid in the making, at least that’s what Jeff said to me after the meeting. Of course, I responded with my usual nod, and proceeded to leave the room along with everyone else. As I was making my way to the side door, I felt a heavy hand on my shoulder.

“Hey, are you sure you’re okay going on tour? I don’t want you to feel pressured or anything. I totally understand and respect if you don’t, I-” I cut his rambling off by softly putting my hand on his and gently nodded.

The look of surprise crossed his features due to the physical contact I initiated. He gave me a warm smile and nodded, while I gently lifted my hand from his. I flashed him a gentle smile goodbye, and continued my way out.

.......

six months later...

"Mitch, Sarah, Charlotte, Pauli are in bus one, Niji, Ny Oh, and Elin are in bus two, and Harry and y/n are in bus three..." Jeff anxiously listed as the rest of the crew and I grabbed our bags. My head immediately looked up, and with wide eyes, I felt my heart drop. Nerves flowed through my veins, and I guess I wasn't hiding it well as I thought I was because Harry looked over and gave me a shy sympathetic smile.

I nervously followed his lead to our respected bus, but not without my hands shaking and lip between my teeth. As my feet made contact with the bus floor, I took in the space. Black slick leather coated the slim couch on the right, facing a small kitchenette and tv. Walking further, I slowly followed Harry back behind a black curtain, that I now know are to the beds. There was one on each side, with storage above for our bags.

Harry reached up to put his duffle bag in the compartment above the left bed, and then made his way over to me with a smile.

"Here," his deep voice gently said while reaching to take the bags from my hands. I quickly but gently let go once his hands met mine on the bag's handles. He lifted them into the similar compartment as he did just moments before, but above my bed.

"I'm gonna shower and head to bed, you are more than welcome to do as you please, and please don't hesitate to get me if you need something y/n/n," Harry tiredly said, seeing as it was now 11pm. I offered a small sincere small nod in appreciation.

He continued to get his bag and head towards what I am assuming is the bathroom, as I got my bag down and placed it on the mattress. I closed the dark colored curtain, took my sleeping shirt out of my duffle, and slipped it on. Realizing I still needed to take my meds, and brush my teeth, I waited for Harry to come out of the bathroom.

A short while later, after taking care of my nighttime routine, I climbed back into the bunk, shut the curtain, and laid on my back staring at the ceiling. Just thinking about the fact that Harry was across from me had my anxiety over the edge. Although I have worked with him over the last half year, and shared occasional friendly encounters, I still didn't trust him, or for lack of a better word, his intentions. Every single man in my life has betrayed me in so many different ways, each resulting in pain and hurt. I couldn't say no to this opportunity though, due to the need for money. Living in an apartment in Los Angeles was not cheap by any means, as well as every other cost that is associated with living. I have no one to fall back on if something were to come up, so being independent has been the only way for me to continue and live.

As my eyes began to drift close, I heard a slight snore a few feet over from Harry. Taking a deep breath, I relaxed my shoulders and drifted to sleep, hoping for no nightmares. Or at least none that would wake up the man across from me.

—-

It’s been about two weeks since the tour started. Saying that everything is hectic is an understatement. Crew members running around, stress etched in everyone’s faces, and the noise of thousands of fans every night has everyone feeling the effects.

Throughout this time, I’ve been writing a lot, as well as trying to find some time for myself. Sharing a space with Harry is difficult. Well, sharing a space with anyone is difficult. I can tell that Harry is increasingly worried about me due to the fact that it’s been almost 8 months and I still haven’t spoken a word out loud. I can tell he’s trying to get closer to me and warm me up. I think that’s why I’ve been slightly distancing myself from him. Getting close to people has only hurt me throughout my life, and I don’t have the capacity to take anymore pain.

During Harry’s show today, I decided to find a quiet space in the arena away from the chaos to write. Deep in my thoughts and hand beginning to cramp, I didn’t realize a figure making their way towards me.

All of a sudden, from my crouched position with my knees bent, a large calloused hand gripped one of my knees. Looking up in surprise and fear, I was met with a scruffy large older looking man, who had a smirk etched on his face.

“C��mon sweetheart, let’s go somewhere else,” the deep voice of the stranger demanded. He grabbed my elbow and tried forcing me up. I tried resisting his grip but I was far too weak to slip out of his hands. He dragged me by my arm, looked both directions in the hallway, and pulled me into a dark room. Suddenly, the light flicked on and he locked the door behind us. I realized we were in some kind of supply room. Eyes widened in fear, I tried to grab the door handle but he was quicker, and grabbed my wrist.

“Don’t even try, bitch,” he laughed mockingly. Tears started welling up in my eyes, and my body shook in fear. The man pulled a roll of duct tape from behind him off a wooden table, unraveled some, and began binding my wrists above my head. His calloused dirty hands grabbed the hem of my pants and roughly pulled them down, along with my panties. Refusing to look at him, I tried focusing on anything else in the room to distract me from the upcoming abuse.

I heard his buckle unlatch and suddenly I felt a deep stinging pressure below. Tears streamed quickly down my scared face. The hands harshly grabbed my bound wrists above me as he started to roughly thrust in me. For what felt like hours, I guess he assumed he was satisfied, so he redressed himself, ripped the duct tape off from my skin, and unlocked the storage room door, leaving me alone with the mess he made.

My body was in shock. The tears stopped minutes ago, but the strong pain and ache remains between my thighs. I slid down the white cinder block wall, curled into a ball, and stared at the wall in front of me. I’m not sure how much time had passed, but I eventually stood, and limped out of the small room. No one was in the hallways as I made my way out. I grabbed my forgotten notebook off the ground, and started making my way back to the dressing room area. Reaching the door handle of my dressing room, I opened it and closed it behind me, and walked to the couch adjacent. I sat there staring at the door in front of me. Any sounds from the outside were drowned out by the shock that took over my body.

“y/n, we are getting ready to leave,” I heard a voice say from behind the door. I couldn’t get myself to move an inch, paralyzed by fear. I’m guessing it had been a few moments since the person who called me, and the handle turned, indicating someone was coming in.

“Hey y/n/n, we are getting ready to-, y/n love, are you ok? What’s wrong?” the worried and confused voice of Harry gently asked. His footsteps grew closer, breaking me from the trance. For the first time in a while, I met his green worried eyes. Standing up, swaying slightly, I stood a few feet from the 6 foot tall Brit. Stepping forward with hesitation, and tears starting down my face again, I walked towards him, and laid the side of my cheek against his chest.

I can tell this startled and surprised him due to his tense body language. I needed comfort. Even though I wasn’t nearly fully comfortable or trusted him, I needed something or someone to ground me. Once his gentle hands met behind my back, softly embracing me, that’s when I broke. Tears rushing down my face, heart racing out of my chest, shaky legs, and I started falling to the ground. Luckily, his hold on me tightened and held me up before I fell further.

“Shh, it’s okay y/n, it’s okay love. You’re safe, you’re okay,” he spoke with sincerity laced in his voice. I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed like that, but he began guiding me out of the dressing room, down the hall to the double doors, leading out to our bus.

I don’t know if it’s the years of neglect, or lack of human contact, but I clung to Harry’s body in the bus. I couldn’t get myself to leave his side. He didn’t seem to want to let go either though. He rubbed my back and spoke comforting words to me as I clung to his torso.

“You don’t need to tell me what happened if you don’t want to, but please promise me y/n, that if you are hurting because someone hurt you, you need to let me know okay?” he said. That’s when I started sobbing again, and that answered his question.

“Shh it’s okay love. I’m right here. Let’s settle down on the couch okay?” he motioned for us to the leather couch. I think he could sense my hesitation because he assured me over and over again that it’s okay. He gently motioned for me to turn on my side. Once on my side, he asked if it was okay if he held me. Although I was petrified and scared, I still apprehensively nodded in agreement. He shifted his body so he was holding me from behind. His arms wrapped around my fragile frame.

I don’t remember falling asleep, but I woke up feeling a weight around my torso. Realization settled in that Harry was spooning my fragile frame. I felt his breath tickle my neck, and I shivered slightly. He must’ve felt my movement because I heard a yawn from behind me, signaling his consciousness.

“Good morning y/n,” his deep morning voice rasped out, as he untangled our bodies. As his arm started pulling away, I unconsciously stuck out my hand and grabbed it. I needed his safety from the world. His face contorted into a surprised look, but as quickly as it came, the look of guilt settled in his features.

“I won’t leave, I promise y/n/n. I just need to use the toilet,” his quiet voice said. I hesitantly nodded, letting him go. As soon as he was gone from my sight, I felt the weight of yesterday’s encounter.

Harry’s footsteps grew louder as I heard him walk back in from the bathroom. As I slowly stood from the couch, his green eyes studied me. My body shook and his large hands were on my shoulders in seconds.

“Here, let’s sit back down, yeah?” he said as a response to my body’s motion. I nodded solemnly and sat.

“I’m not sure what happened yesterday, but I need you to know, y/n, that I’m here. I’ll listen. I’ll do whatever you need me to do okay?” his voice sounded as he sat next to me. Taking a deep breath, I nodded, gently looking up into his green eyes.

….

It’s been a few weeks since the incident, and over that time, I’ve gotten much closer to Harry. Although I can definitely tell he is worried about me and what happened that night, he has since left the decision up to me on when I’ll tell him, or someone, what happened.

During down time, I’ve been writing different lyrics and melody ideas down in my journal. I have completed a song called Matilda, and another called Fine Line. Lyrically, I feel very strong about them, though I'm not sure if the tempo will be too sad for Harry’s type of music. I’m planning on bringing my ideas to Mitch sometime, and hoping he can play around with some instrumental ideas for them.

Besides Harry, I’ve been very jumpy when a male comes into the room that I don’t know. To be fair, I already was due to childhood trauma, but now it’s way more apparent. Harry gives me a look each time he sees the way my body involuntarily flinches, but chooses not to say anything about it, to which I’m very thankful for.

Each night since he held me on the bus couch, he’s let me in his bunker to sleep. Having the weight of his arm allows me the safety I need. When I’m about to fall asleep, he softly kisses the back of my head, and secures his tattooed arm around my torso.

Right now, we are on our way to the next tour stop. Harry is sitting with headphones on, watching some movie on his phone, while I’m adjacent on a seat watching out the massive bus windows. It’s been almost a year since meeting Harry, and at no point has he given me a doubt about his intentions and personality.

See, my last relationship ended up with bruises littering my body, cuts along my skin, and fear etched in my mind. He would throw me against walls, yelling at me for literally anything. He drank and drank until bottles scattered the floor, leaving me to clean up the mess. He would use my body for his own enjoyment and pleasure. I would be left sore for days, all for him to do it repeatedly. One day, on his way home from work, he was involved in an accident, which killed him on impact. As awful as it is to say, relief flooded me when the news broke. His older brother took the house, leaving me with absolutely nothing. I worked odd jobs while having to live with my abusive father. He would smash things against my head, and would lock me in a bedroom for hours on end, without food or water. That lasted for a few months before I had saved up enough money for an apartment. That’s when I began creating on the website where Alex had discovered me.

Fast forward to now, I have come to realize something. I’m developing feelings for Harry. It’s absolutely terrifying to me. Butterflies erupt in my fragile chest when his eyes rarely capture mine, or when the warmth of his hand lingers on me for comfort. His once intimidating aura is now replaced by a sense of safety. When approaching new males, whether it’s at a stop or another venue, he always somehow uses his body to gently shield them from my own.

Shifting his body, my attention focused back on the man behind me. The headphones were off his head, and his phone was placed beside him on the couch. “Hey, I just wanted to let you know that our stop is coming up,” his tired, raspy voice rang out softly. I nodded, making a small amount of eye contact, and mouthed ‘thank you.’ His pink lips turned up into a small grin and proceeded to watch out the window behind the couch.

Once the bus came to a halt, Harry and I stood from our respected areas, and made our way out. Following him into the arena, the sense of dread engulfed my body. Since that night, being without Harry by my side has caused anxiety to bubble inside me. He has insisted I stay in his dressing room during the entirety of the show, for my safety and his peace of mind. I wasn’t going to argue or debate that.

After hours of writing when the bands on stage, they finally run off stage and enter their dressing rooms. Hearing a soft gentle knock on the door, Harry slowly appeared and came in. With a wide smile and adrenaline rush, he walked over to me.

Suddenly, I felt his arms wrap around me gently.

“Hey y/n/n,” he whispered exhausted in my ear. I slowly brought my arms gently around his torso, reciprocating his action. I felt him smile in my hair. I could tell he is exhausted, mentally and physically, from the demanding performances he puts on. I’m not sure how long we stayed engulfed in each other, but he slowly lets me go, and steps back.

“I'm sorry, I just really missed you,” he shyly spoke, blushing slightly. I looked up to him in confusion, seeing as I had seen him a few hours ago. Sensing my confusion, he proceeds to explain himself.

“I just, I don’t know, I love spending time with you y/n,” his shy, sincere voice sounded as he proceeded to take off his outfit, opting for something comfortable. A smile graced my now rosy face. A comfortable silence fell over the small dressing room as he dressed, and as I gathered my notebook.

We walked in silence, Harry in front of me, to our designated bus. As we got in, I tapped Harry on his shoulder softly. He turned around, eyebrows raised in question and lips parted to ask a question, but I cut him off before he had the chance. I hugged him, tight, needing to feel his warmth. Startled a little bit, I felt his arms wrap around me, even tighter. It seemed like we both needed each other’s comfort tonight, and an unconscious agreement to not talk about it.

——

Today marks six months since the tour began. It also marks three months since I’ve realized that I have grown feelings for the pop star.

Tonight is a rough night. Harry woke up with a cold, making his throat sore. He of course powered through the show, however, as soon as he entered the dressing room, I could tell something was really off. His eyes briefly met mine, and when the door shut behind him, he began undressing himself with a slight hint of frustration in his movements. I stood up, and followed behind him to the bus after he changed.

Upon entering our bus, he sat on the couch with his face in his hands. I heard sniffing and could see that he was very distraught. I’d never seen Harry like this before and I didn’t know the reason behind this reaction. Cautiously, I slowly walked and sat next to him on the couch. Sensing my movement, he placed his hands from his face, down on his lap, but kept his head lowered.

“I’m sorry you have to see me like this y/n/n, I’m just so disappointed you know? I didn’t give them my best tonight and they paid and traveled to see me, and I feel like I disappointed everyone, fuck” he whispered at the end. I hated seeing him like this, he pushes himself so hard, too hard.

Despite the hesitation and voices screaming at me in my head to not do this, I softly laid my hand on top of his on his lap. His body tensed for only a moment, but his other hand raised slowly and settled atop mine. I heard a deep breath sound from his lungs as his body visibly relaxed. It took everything in me to not get up a run to my bunk, but I could tell he needed me. I needed him.

By the end of the long draining night, we settled on the couch. His muscular tattooed body behind mine, with our body heat engulfing one another. Thoughts raced through my mind, as I danced around the pros and cons of continuing getting closer to Harry. Throughout this competition in my brain, I must’ve fallen asleep due to the sun now shining through the bus windows.

I slipped away from the couch, and walked quietly to the shared bathroom. Looking at myself in the mirror, I came to a realization. I’ve never felt more safe in my life than I do with Harry. And that realization is fucking terrifying.

——

Weeks later, I found myself cuddled against the British man once again. There was definitely growing tension between us as we started sharing more intimate moments together, like this. I began to take notice of his lingering stares on me, his delicate but affectionate touches, and the warmth we both seemed to feel with one another.

We were watching a movie on the small bus tv, and my head laid on his shoulder. Suddenly, his body slowly moved, making me lift my head off his shoulder. His facial expression clearly held anxiety, and sensing my confusion, his voice began.

“y/n, love, I need to get something off my chest,” his anxious yet cautious voice said as his body turned to face me. Anxiety started to fill my veins, thinking of every worst scenario that could play out. Before my thoughts could go any further, the deep British voice carried out once again.

“Fuck it, I’m just gonna say it. I have feelings for you y/n. I have for a while, and I know that’s wrong because we work together but I can’t not say anything anymore. I know you don’t feel the same, which is absolutely okay love, I-” his voice rambled with nerves and worry, but I gently grabbed his face with my hands on his cheeks, interrupting his little speech. Taking a deep breath, I leaned in, so our faces were merely inches apart. Our eyes met, and he began to close the small gap between our lips. My hands fell from his face as his rose to mine. As our lips touched, every ounce of worry and anxiety melted away. Our lips moved in sync with so much longing interlaced. He gently pulled away, and rested his forehead against mine, with a wide smile gracing his now slightly swollen pink lips.

“Well, that was a great way to get me to shut up,” he chuckled against my face. A small giggle escaped my lips as our eyes met.

For the rest of the night, we stayed cuddled up on our usual couch, just holding each other until we fell asleep.

——

Over the following weeks, the band noticed our new found chemistry with each other and eventually figured it out. They all congratulated us, and were so excited.

Nothing has really changed between us, besides the stolen kisses and hand holding. However, I felt myself beginning to want more. I trusted Harry so much, which is crazy to say given my past. In his dressing room during the shows, I have been practicing using my voice. Since it’s been so long since I last spoke a word, it has been proven difficult, but I am determined to start again.

Tonight, everyone was staying in a hotel instead of our buses due to bad weather. It was safer inside there than the buses, which I think everyone was actually happy about considering we haven’t had an actual bed in months.

With our hands intertwined, Harry got our room key and led us to our suite. As we stepped inside, I heard a quiet “shit” escape Harry’s mouth. There was one bed laying in the middle of the room.

“I’m so sorry y/n/n, I was told there were two beds, let me go see if there’s another room with two,” his distressed voice said as he was about to leave the room. I gently grabbed his arm, momentarily making him stop in his tracks. I looked at him and shook my head. I mouthed ‘it’s okay” with a small smile on my lips.

“Are you sure? I really don’t mind going down-” I cut his rambling off with a small quick kiss to his lips.

We set our bags on the ground, and Harry turned around to put the tv on. As he did, I got my pajamas, really his shirt and boxers that I stole, and I headed to the bathroom. After showering, I dressed myself and finished getting ready for the night. As I stepped out, our eyes met. This was the first time he’s really seen me like this. A blush crept onto his cheeks as he stared at my body. He quickly looked back down to his phone, and pulled the duvet up higher on his body. A little shy smile came over my features realizing how cute he was when he was flustered.

Pulling my side of the sheets down, I climbed into bed, next to him. I could tell he was a little tense, and I was about to type on my phone to ask him what was wrong, however, as he bent down to grab his fallen charger off the nightstand, the duvet fell down slightly, revealing Harry’s problem. My eyes grew wide as I quickly looked back to the playing tv. A blush rose to my cheeks as he settled in back next to me. As time went on, he grew antsy and couldn’t stay still. He looked uncomfortable and I could tell he was trying really hard to keep it together.

“I’m gonna head to the bathroom really quick,” he quickly said as he tried to conceal the tent under his shorts, before trying to stand. I do appreciate him trying to not make me uncomfortable, but little did he know, I wanted him. As he was about to stand and swing his long legs off the side of the bed, I grabbed his wrist.

Our eyes met, his embarrassed but mine full of love. I held my hand up to stop him, as I made my way out of the bed, walking over to his side. I stood between his short-covered legs as he looked up at me in question.

“It’s really okay, I’m sorry, I was gonna go sort this, uh, out,” his flustered voice said as he was attempting to stand back up. I shook my head and placed my hand on his arm, to let him know it’s okay.

I nervously leaned down to kiss him. His lips pushed back against mine but I could feel his hesitation to keep going.

“Are you sure, love?” his deep raspy voice whimpered with hesitation and lust. I nodded reassuringly and brought my lips back to his.

I reached to pull his shirt over his head but his hands pressed on my shoulders to stop me. Before I could do anything else, he said, “let me y/n, I want tonight to be about you, don’t worry about me, I promise.” I simply nodded in agreement but not without nerves shining through my brown eyes. Standing up, he switched our position so I sat on the bed and he stood above me.

“Lay back for me love, I want to make you feel good, yeah?” he whispered with lust filled eyes. Following his words, I moved back on the bed, and shifted my body so my head was on his pillow. He moved to the end of the bed and got on his knees by my feet. He tapped my leg for me to open my legs a little wider to allow him to come closer.

With his request, I moved my legs to the side, and he moved forward.

“Are you positive about this love? We don’t need to do anything. We can stop anytime, just push me away or pinch me,” he spoke sincerely. I nodded with a smile and reached for him. I gripped the bottom of his shirt and began lifting it. He helped me and threw it off his torso somewhere in the room. Tattoos littered his skin and heat radiated off. His eyes met mine for consent to take mine off. I nodded with a shy grin and he proceeded to gently peel mine off. Left in a bra and his boxers, I moved my arms to wrap around myself.

“y/n, love, you are so beautiful, no need to hide my love,” he spoke as he gently moved my arms away from my stomach, to my sides. With his arms on either side of my face, he met my lips with his own. Our tongues danced together as my hands went through his soft curls. A small groan ripped through his chest as I tugged more.

“Can I?” He asked as he kissed down from my lips to my chest, in question to remove my upper garment. With slight nerves, I nodded. With my consent, he tapped my torso for me to arch my back, to allow him access to unclasp my bra. Swiftly, the garment was dropped beside the bed, now leaving me even more vulnerable.

Before I could even think about shielding myself, his lips came down to peck over my exposed chest. He whispered “beautiful” every time he came up for air. His mouth hovered for a second before landing down on my nipple. With a deep breath let out, I felt myself getting hot. He gently sucked one while softly kneading the other with his large hand. My hands gripped his hair tighter in pleasure as his tongue swirled the swollen nub. He alternated between both for a few minutes, until I gently pulled him up. His face was visibly flushed and I could feel the warmth coming from his body down below.

I stared into his green eyes, silently pleading for more. Understanding, he nodded and grinned in silent acknowledgement. His hands found their way to the last piece of clothing on my body. His fingers hooked around the sides, gently pulling them down, away from my body. There I laid, bare, in front of a man. This was the first time that someone cared about my comfort and pleasure. Harry took his time admiring every inch of my body. As his eyes landed on my exposed thighs, his expression faltered for a moment. I knew what he saw. Old scars of the abuse I endured littered the soft skin. Although his gaze lingered, there was not one trace of disgust or anything but love that filled his orbs. Instead, he bent down and kissed from my lips, down to my thighs.

“Is this okay? Are you comfortable y/n/n?” he questioned. I nodded and encouraged him to continue. With my approval, he brought his hand lower. Despite the anxiety of the situation, I felt safe in his hands.

Once his index finger slipped below, a quiet moan slipped from my lips. A grin appeared on his face as he felt my arousal. Using my arousal, he gently glided his finger through my folds. He began to rub my clit with precision and a softness in his touch, as he captured my lips once again. He knew the weight of the situation and how much this was affecting me. Disconnecting our swollen lips, he silently asks for permission. I graciously nodded, and I felt the tip of his finger nudge my opening. Taking a deep breath, I felt him begin to slide in a little deeper. Stilling his finger, he let me adjust. I leaned up to kiss him, and he took the hint to go forward. He slowly curled his finger inside me. A moan escaped my lips and I quickly put my hand over my mouth in embarrassment.

“Hey, no, none of that love, let me hear you, yeah? It’s okay, I got you,” he whispered. He started going a little faster inside me and my body began to tremble. With my eyes rolling back, he whispered little words of encouragement as he slipped another finger beside the one already in me. I felt a little burn, but it was quickly replaced by even more pleasure. He pumped them in and out, curling them up as he went all the way in. I felt a deep burn in my stomach, indicating my orgasm was quickly approaching. I reached down for his hand, and he immediately stopped. I mouthed ‘I want you,’ and his eyes turned an even darker shade of green.

“You are positive love? We don’t have to, I promise,” he said in reassurance. I shook my head with a smile and reached for the hem of his boxers. He helped me out and took them off his toned body. His red leaking cock bounced up to his stomach. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at the sight. He climbed off the bed quickly, and went to his bag. Grabbing what I was assuming was a condom, he got back in between my legs.

“Alright, shit, you’re so fuckin’ beautiful. This may hurt or burn a bit, Love, but just squeeze my hand yeah?” I nodded and as he rolled the latex on, I leaned up to capture his lips. His hands went to my breasts and my head was laid gently on the pillow below. He grabbed hold of his cock, and brought it up to my pussy. Gently sliding his tip through my folds, he teased my clit a little. Taking a deep breath through his nose, he guided his tip to my entrance. I grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his face to mine. As he slipped his tongue in my mouth, he pushed a little further in. Closing my eyes, my heart began to race. Feeling the unsteady beating of my chest, Harry brought up his face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay my love, you’re safe, open your eyes, it’s me, Harry,” his soft delicate voice spoke. Upon opening my eyes, a sense of security fell over me and I felt safe again. He peppered kisses over my face and he agonizingly pushed in a little bit more. A whimper escaped my throat, and before he could say anything, I brought my hand to his back, and pushed his lower body closer to mine, resulting in him bottoming out. I moved my hand to hold his tightly as a burn fell over my bottom half. Taking everything in him, he stilled inside me, letting me adjust, not only physically, but mentally too.

We stayed in this position for a few minutes, and during this time, I fought the internal battle in my mind. Part of me wanted to tell him I loved him while the other half was scared and not to, cause then it would be real.

I lifted his head from my shoulder, and looked into his eyes. Opening my mouth, after years and years of not speaking, my voice began to sound from my chest.

“I love you,” I whispered. Frozen. That’s what Harry was. Frozen. He stared at me with wide surprised eyes as he was processing the fact that I spoke.

“Oh my god,” he finally whispered with tears glazing his eyes and the biggest smile I’ve seen.

“You… oh my god, I love you so much, so so much,” he whimpered into my hair. Shifting my hips up, he got the hint to begin moving. As he thrusted slowly but deeply, my nails scratched his back. He wouldn’t stop whispering how proud of me he was and how much he loved me.

“I'm close,” I said after a few minutes.

“Me too, my love,” he responded after a second to catch his breath. I could tell he was holding back for my sake. Every single moment of the time I have spent with him, has been nothing but love. His thrusts began to pick up a little, and before I knew it, pleasure rippled throughout my body. My orgasm came over me as harrys did for him. His sheen glowy body stilled as he came down from his high inside me. As he was about to pull out, I stopped him and placed my hand on his hip.

“Please stay,” I whispered pleadingly. Nodding, he positioned us so we were chest to chest on our sides. I felt him growing soft inside me, but feeling him close, after being alone and scared for so long, was needed. With my head in his chest, under his chin, he soothed my skin delicately by rubbing over it. With the post-orgasm rush, our bodies were exhausted. With a final kiss to my hair, he whispered “I love you, my beautiful sunflower.” Before I could question the new nickname, his breathing shallowed out, indicating his now sleeping body.

I can finally say that I am safe. I am loved. I am comforted. And I am in love with Harry Styles.

The End….

[hollyhomburg]

Before I Leave You (Pt.58)

(Omegaverse au, Mafia au, Bts x Reader)

Summary: Your nightmares are a troubling development but the pack won't let you drown. They have different ideas on how to help you. Some more damaging than others.

Tags: Angst, Hurt/comfort, Fluff, Cuddling, scent marking, Nightmares, graphic depiction of fake character death, Discussions of past rape, No explicit depictions of past rape/sexual assault, past domestic-abuse, flashbacks, safe-wording during sex (Sorta), unpleasant sexual encounters, under-negotiated kink, mentioned sex toys, crying during sex, Sad blow jobs, small dick jungkook, allusions to past eating disorders, anxiety, implied self-hate, self-esteem issues, non-verbal main character.

W/c: 12.9k

A/N: this chapter was originally supposed to be a lot longer- but i got too in depth with it and had to split it up. This is easily one of the more heavy chapters of bily (and that's saying something), so please be mindful of the tags! For anyone wanting to skip the super triggering parts in the next chapter i've highlighted a sentence in red font both after the first triggering section and before the very triggering ending.

Special thanks to @imperiussexrex for helping me with jk's part <3 they're the bestest <3

Previous Chapter- Masterlist

"Sleep well, my lovely little spy."

Jin’s eyes flutter open, looking up at the beta who's watching him with a gentle but noticeably tense smile. Jin’s mouth is dry, he could pretend he didn’t hear anything but there would be no use. The truth wouldn’t change.

"Holy shit.” Jin’s whole body is ridged. Ready to run. In panic mode. But Yoongi’s hand settles on his shoulder. It’s the same touch as always and just as gentle and kind as it was both this mourning and 6 years ago. Yoongi has always been a kind soul, regardless of every secret Jin's ever learned to love about him.

Letting himself be known in return feels a little bit more perilous. Jin’s heart thuds against his fingertips. He swallows hard.

Yoongi hums, agreeing with Jin’s assessment. He runs a hand gently through Jin’s hair. Tugging away loose a knot. “Holy shit indeed.”

Everything is fine. In the wake of the dead body, everything in the pack is absolutely fine.

(That’s a lie, everything is definitely not fine, everything is in fact- falling apart. Like a butterfly larva worming its way to crystalize. Carving its way towards both womb and tomb. Something that changes you or destroys you.)

Jin and Yoongi can only hope.

It’s only hope after all. How much damage can it really do?

~-~

Your unraveling starts with the Nightmares.

Tonight, it’s a dark tangle of half-forgotten moments. A movie with all of the scariest scenes copied and pasted. Bright punctures of feelings like blood dripping down your chin and the tang of it in your mouth. Geumjae’s scent in your nose as he shoves your mouth against his skin. All of it. Every unhappy memory that your psyche has locked away for later drags you down like the tide would drag a stone to a watery grave.

Until the moments condense like a figure rising through fog and you’re sitting in that house again. The one with the yellow brocade curtains pulled closed across the windows so that no one sees what happens inside.

You're sitting with Geumjae at the dining room table. The elaborate meal in front of you rises with steam and smells divine calling you like a moth to honey. The cutlery is polished so clean that you can see your reflection in it. A million dancing tiny versions of you stare back with vacant doll-like eyes.

You remember this meal; you remember what happened to you on this morning. The soreness between your legs reminds you of that horror. You remember how hard you worked after he left in the morning after leaving you in a bloody heap on the bathroom floor. You remember hoping that if you did everything you absolutely could to prepare this meal, He’d be satisfied and he wouldn’t hurt you again.

But avoiding rape is never quite so easy.

It was foolish to hope back then. Geumjae was a man of routine and he required your body every morning and evening without fail. But hoping is so hard to avoid, like an itch under your skin that demands biting nails, a furious sort of wanting. Hope is nothing more than a chain that drags you through the sludge when you think it might be your buoy.

In this nightmare, the other chairs at the table aren’t empty like they usually are. It’s not just you here.

He must have taken a needle and stitched your mouth shut (like he always threatened) because you feel powerless to scream at Namjoon to get away to stay back. You can do nothing more than watch as he leans over and says something to Geumjae that makes him smile. His smile makes him look like Yoongi; who sits at the head of the table and nurses a glass of wine while scowling.

Jin is on Namjoon's other side, hair combed back from his face in a way that makes Seokjin look absurdly pretty. The picture of delicate omega composure. Each of them eats like they haven't in days, shoveling food into their mouths like it’s their last meal.

Jungkook is by your side and asks if you’re going to eat your dinner roll. Puffy and crusty bread that he never would be able to eat in real life. You watch powerlessly as he scarfs it down like he hasn’t ever eaten anything more delicious. Licking his fingers from the crumbs when he finishes.

Tae is dressed in your jewels this time, not Jimin's. The necklace Geumjae gave you for your second anniversary digs into her collar bones as if it was pinned there. Like a butterfly on a piece of cardboard. Glittering with more diamonds than seem possible. Like one of those Instagram filters, every reflection mark turned glittery. Jimin’s suit is like something out of vogue.

One moment you’re looking at the perfectly edible food and the next you’re watching it rot before your very eyes. The meat greying and melting. The salad wilts gooey and spoiled. The fancy porcelain plates writhing with worms and maggots and creepy crawlies that slither out of nowhere. A spider inches its way up your fork.

No one notices. No one realizes that the bites they bring to their lips are poison. Jin licks his lips, the skin already greying and cracking.

Geumjae looks up at you from his plate, grinning all the while. Collar starched white. You haven’t heard his voice in so long but your mind remembers the exact cadence of it in perfect detail.

“What’s wrong princess? Aren’t you going to eat up?

When you look back at them it's already too late. Namjoon’s slumped in his chair staring blankly forward with bloody eyes. When you look Jin’s got his head half gone. Cut away. Wriggly things curl behind what's left of his eye.

Tae’s collarbones are bleeding where the diamond collar sits. Ribbons drip down her bodice. Jimin’s white shirt is slowly blooming red too. Bullet wounds pepper his chest. One on his shoulder and a cluster of them over his heart.

Jungkook slumps over his plate seizing until he’s still. Still the way that dolls are. Dead. Looking at you with wide vacant eyes that go grey with congealing blood.

Yoongi's hands are burning, fire licking up his clothes and he does nothing to put it out. Burning and bubbling and boiling. Skin peeling up like paint beneath the flames.

Hoseok is the only one not at the table.

Across from you, Geumjae smiles again. Baring his teeth in that animal way of his. “What’s wrong princess? I thought you said you loved them- aren’t you going to try and stop it?”

One moment he’s across the table and the next he’s leaning over you, back in that bedroom that was your hellhole less than a year ago. Pulling you by your hips to the end of the bed when you try to twist away. He fumbles with his belt buckle.

The sheets burn against your skin like its rug burn and although you weakly push at his chest. It feels like you're moving in slow motion. Your strength is nothing compared to his. It never was enough in real life anyway.

“No- no I don’t want- please don’t,” you choke. Trying to get him off of you, when he opens his mouth there are maggots there too.

You never did find out what they did with Geumjae’s body. But now you know as the rotting corpse of your dead husband assaults you. Boney hands grab your wrists as the worms drip out, dangle, and wriggle, falling onto your face and-

One of the terrible things about the big nest upstairs is that it’s really easy to get trapped in the middle with no easy way out.

Hobi finds himself in that position when he wakes. It’s the middle of the night, nearly 3 am probably when he’s roused by the familiar ache in his stomach that tells him he needs to pee.

The shades are pulled across the windows keeping the light out, and what little slips through is kept out by a thin curtain that sections off the nest from the rest of the room. Shielding the familiar lumps of packmates buried beneath the nest slumbering away.

It feels good to have all of you sleeping in one space, the instinctual pleasure flutters and builds on the edge of Hobi’s consciousness as he lifts his head. Barely opening his eyes. It feels homey in the way that Namjoon's rut nest hadn't. It's a true nest, Smelling thick and cakey sweet all of your scents drench it now after a few days of you all sleeping here. After finding the dead body, the decision had been unanimous. No more sleeping separately. No more splitting up between the upstairs nest and the remnants of yours downstairs.

Even though it's a new space some things never change. Jimin still sleeps at the edge near the bottom, guarding the nest from the most logical point of vulnerability. Although that might be because of last week.

The pack has made a few other adjustments in terms of safety since you and Hobi found the dead body. Many a moment has hobi walked into a room with Jin and Yoongi only to have them fall silent. But he doesn't have to ask what new precautions they've agreed upon.

They’ve fallen back into the habit of letting each other know when they get to work safely and when they leave, and when to expect them home (the same habit they had just after yoongi left actually) Phone locations are perpetually turned on just in case. But Hobi knows the only time any of them feel truly settled is when they’re all up here.

The nest is big. Big enough for all of you to sleep comfortably, even all sprawled out. But as thoughtful as Yoongi was when he constructed the space he certainly did not think about how hard it would be to leave for a midnight bathroom break given the walls that close in on three sides.

Now, Hobi is trapped and bound by blankets and fancy pillows and the gently sleeping bodies of his pack all around him. The border is high and fluffed. It’s in an alpha's nature to be careful around his packmates and it goes against something very basic in Hobi to even think about disturbing the carefully placed pillows and blankets, the general purposeful disarray of such a cozy nest. Alphas simply don’t fuck with omega nests.

But on the other hand, he’s seriously stuck.

Namjoon, Jimin, and Jin are at the bottom blocking off the most logical point of egress. Jin’s head rests on Jimin's shoulder, dark hair fanning. Yoongi is tangled up with Tae (her hair in these little puffy rollers). And Jungkook’s star fished and spread out by the top edge, right where Hobi was. His fingers rest under his shirt like he’s been rubbing at his stomach. Snoring softly.

Hobi’s heart swells just looking at them.

The only safe avenue of exit where Hobi won’t be climbing over two people is near the bottom left, close to Jin and Namjoon, where you lie on your side, cheek pillowed. Chest rising up and down a little rapidly in the darkness. It’s so dark that Hobi doesn’t see it at first.

Hobi’s so half-asleep that he doesn’t even realize right away that you’re not as undisturbed as the others. That you occasionally twitch like a puppy.

Hobi is no stranger to maneuvering his lithe body around sleeping packmates, muscles straining as he very gently pulls himself over you. Depressing the mattress by your side. His baggy sleep shirt momentarily brushes your face as he shifts over you.

Your reaction is instinctual, one moment asleep and the next awake. Your scent going sour all at once. Exploding in a rush. You push out with your arms, still in the nightmare.

One second Hobi’s on the bed the next he’s stumbling out of it, Barely keeping himself from falling face-first onto the floor. Bare feet slide on the polished wood when he gets them under him. Cursing out a brief “What the fuck?” looking back, ready to be angry at being shoved.

But then he sees that you're sitting up, trembling so hard that your hands can't grip the blanket to get it off of you. Eyes wide and glassy with panic. You blink and blink, lower lip wobbling.

There is a single moment where he just looks at you, but then you let out a small (and admittedly pathetic) chirp.

There is nothing like a chirp that tugs on an alpha’s hindbrain, that drags Hobi's instincts to the forefront like a hook in a fish's mouth. He's honestly surprised that the sound doesn't wake anyone else. Maybe because it's so quiet, so small.

It’s just a dream, just a very bad dream, and your pack is sleeping softly around you. The next thing you feel is Hobi gently crushing you to his chest. Smelling like caramel and boy. Tenderly whipping back your hair from your face. His warm fingertips press against your tender temples dislodging the last bit of you that can't tell if this is real yet.

“Pup? What’s wrong- what happened?"

Hobi looks about as different from Geumjae as anyone possibly could, his jaw slender where Geumjae was wide, eyes bright where his went dark and hooded. Unthreatening and normal brown in the glow.

But just like the dream, you can’t fucking speak.

“Fuck- it was just a dream, whatever it was- it’s not real- I’m-”

You’re shaking and crying and you can’t respond. Your throat is all tight. All of you that is usually happy and gentle is reduced small and scared and quiet. You can't tell where the shadows end and where reality begins. You can only feel his hands. That's the only thing that feels real beyond the terror.

You can't look around; you can't look around at the others- too scared that they'll be dead.

Thank God for the physical nature of Hobi’s job. Herking bags of soil and 30-gallon trees has honestly done him good because it means he can carry you downstairs with a little effort.

Real panic circles his head like a bunch of buzzards, threatening to pick his heart clean. "Hang on- here we go." He turns on each of the lights one by one by leaning into them. Shoulder hitting the plastic, the two of you safer with each click. "See- there isn't anything to be scared of! There's no one here but us."

Hobi is right, Hobi would never lie to you. This kitchen is not the same one from your nightmares. The blinds are blinds and not curtains, drawn to keep out the streetlights not any prying eyes. The old rickety table where the pack has their meals isn't piled with food at all. Only some tangerines in a wooden bowl in the center.

You’re small and shaky in an extra big shirt of Namjoon’s that pools on your thighs when he places you on gently the countertop with a small 'oof'. You're already a little more lucid, eyes darting from the light to the shadows and still trembling faintly. Hobi knows instantly from the stillness that you’re nonverbal. Mouth uncooperative. Your brain is a mix of misplaced adrenaline and cortisol. You smell terrified.

“It’s okay, it’s just a dream, here-” Hobi fills up a yellow plastic cup with water and tips it against your lips. The cold soothes your throat but not to the point that you can speak. You’re unwilling to detangle yourself from him. Real and warm and there now that you’ve got him. hand tangled in the front of his shirt, clinging to him.

He hums as he dabs a cold dishcloth across on your hot cheeks. “You’re okay- I’ve got you.” You lean into his hands, legs parted so that he can stand between them. You look so sad and so small that Hobi’s heart hurts.

You don’t want to speak, really don’t want to but you force yourself anyways. “Don’t remember them- usually- Or wake up in the middle- sorry- M' sorry.”

Your eyes itch, and your face feels all puffy as he continues to dab at it. The cloth is rough and Cold, but hobi's warm where his skin touches yours.

Alive and safe. you barely want to blink incase you miss it.

“Don’t apologize, it’s okay.” Hobi continues to dab at your cheeks, “You get them often?” You shake your head instead of responding and Hobi’s scent goes thick with upset, burning sugar ever so slightly smokey. You sniffle still sort of crying and Hobi does the only thing he can think of.

Maybe it’s just that he’s half asleep himself, or an expression of his alpha protectiveness. The ringing in his ears says protect packmate, provide for packmate, soothe.

Hobi’s scent gland brushes against yours with an electric zing. Pushing you from shaky to boneless nearly instantaneously. He drags his throat and chin across your left shoulder, and then your right.

it takes real effort for him to keep his palms pressed flat against the kitchen counter while he does it but at least it has the desired effect of banishing the last bit of sogginess from your cakey scent. Your instincts purr alphas here, alphas going to keep you safe, keep the shadows at bay.

Your scent goes sweeter and your half-asleep body goes mailable as you lean into him. Resting your cheek on his shoulder, Hobi huffs a soft laugh. It feels sort of nice, having you close like this. He knows how omega's get, Jungkook goes sleepy puppet soft when he's scent marked this close to sleep too.

Yoongi would want Hobi to do this right? Yoongi would want Hobi to comfort his mate. He’d do it himself if he was awake. Hobi’s just being a good packmate. Right?

The hair on the back of your neck stands on end as he pulls away. Is it just your imagination or is he a little reluctant?

A startled chirp bursts from your lips, and you clamp your hand back over your mouth. but hobi's laugh echoes loud off the high ceilings, "It's alright pup." You try to speak again but Hobi shushes you, there’s no need for you to push yourself. Not with him. Not right now.

The slant of the light across Hoseok’s face isn’t right. Too grey and yellow from the light in the hall. It’s too late for it to be morning yet and too dark for you to quiet your heartbeat. Hobi can feel it, jackrabbit fast against his throat.

If he's here, that means the nightmare really was only that. A nightmare. Hobi wouldn't be wrapped around you if the rest of the pack were dead. You don't need to go back upstairs and double-check.

Now if you could only stop crying.

“Here,” Hobi starts to pull away and you make a panicked sound, fingers tangling in his shirt. “I’m not going anywhere, let me just get my bag-” You shake while he’s gone, sitting on the countertop, stumbling when you get off of it, knees weak. Holding the edge until he comes and gets you with an arm under your shoulders, transferring you effortlessly to the couch.

When did Hobi get so good at this? You’d be inclined to think this was just another dream (one of those shameful ones that you don’t even mention to Yoongi) but you’re not sure you could have dreamed this up.

“Lights off or on?” You shiver so he goes one by one turning on the overhead lights and then the lamps, the ones under the cabinets in the kitchen too. There’s not a hint of shadow here, no monster that he couldn’t guard you from.

You can still see the light behind your eyes when you close them. Blinking slowly like a cat would. Hobi has his headphones in his hand, not his usual earbuds but the dilapidated black over-the-ear headphones with peeling stickers on the sides that have been his almost as long as Yoongi has (they might have been stolen from the record store- back when Yoongi's rebellious streak ran a little wider).

The second they go around your ears the world dampens and your heartbeat slows.

“I’ve got you.” Hobi mouths, reaching to pull your head to lie against his shoulder, the blue light flicker of his phone screen hurts your eyes as he scrolls through some songs and puts one on. It’s slow and soft, mostly instrumental except for faint vocals. You can’t hear what Hobi says but he pulls you to rest against his side. Settling.

He doesn’t make you talk about the nightmare. Doesn’t make you talk at all. You melt, pressing your face into his shoulder as hard as you can, your shaking relaxing with every word. Every soft hum. It’s working, your trembling is only skin-deep now. In a few minutes, you won't be shaking at all.

“Go to bed,” he asks, even though you can't hear him. Pillowed against him. The songs shift quietly. Your hand somehow gets under Hobi’s shirt and presses against the skin of his hip. Holding it softly so that he doesn’t go anywhere, it feels like a bit of a thank you.

You cling to him and he lets you. You probably can’t hear him but he still repeats, “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~-~

Yoongi’s never shot up faster in his life, leaving part of himself in the dream. He can feel the panic down the bond as he stumbles. The nest is too empty. Yoongi’s sleep-sluggish brain counts the number of bodies and he goes cold when he counts five and not seven. Pure shuddering terror bleeding down his back like he's just been doused with cold water.

Where are you? Where is Hobi? There is something wrong- something seriously wrong. Yoongi can feel it on the back of his tongue, the taste of your despair acidic. Once a familiar feeling, now lashing him like lightning.

Communicating directly through the mating mark isn’t something that happens often anymore for the two of you. It did when the bond was fresher, but now that it’s settled the connection has dulled. In the way that clothes go worn and comfortable. It’s not usually a stabbing pain like this. Such a visceral feeling that it wakes Yoongi up from it.

Yoongi stumbles to the door following your scent like a man possessed. The way it shifts from the nest. Panicked to not alone. Hobi’s panic too saturates the air. Yours is rainy wet and Hobi’s is burnt and over-sweet, faintly medicinal.

There are sounds on the stairs. Footsteps rouse Hobi just as he’s finally fallen asleep. His neck aches from how he’s been leaned back against the couch And he winces as it cracks.

“Hobi?” Yoongi calls cautiously. At his waist, your fingers tangle loosely in his shirt holding onto him like he’s a lighthouse in a storm, clinging to him even as you sleep. Hobi realizes he’s got a bit of your hair stuck to his lips. Spitting it out.

“Over here.“ Hobi’s jaw pops when he yawns. Yoongi stumbles to you because he can’t stay away when you’re like this. When you need him. You don’t rouse when Yoongi touches you, cupping your cheeks. Eyes feasting on the crusty salt around your eyes, the faint silvery shimmer of dried tear tracks across your cheeks.

“She had a nightmare- couldn’t sleep with the lights off so- thank god you're here I have to pee like so fucking bad-” Hobi says quietly.

Yoongi definitely does not eye the way that your hand stays loosely knotted in the front of his shirt, or note verbally the way that you smell like him. Drenched in hobi's scent and clinging to him.

“Daisy,” Yoongi says, sounding a bit surprised and alot in love, tucking his Hobi’s hair behind his ear. Standing over the two of you looking a little shaken. Yoongi is an expert at moving you softly detangling your hand from Hobi's shirt without waking you and freeing Hobi from his self-imposed prison.

He's still shaken when Hobi comes back from the bathroom. Hobi can’t blame him. You don’t really have the best track record when it comes to disappearing together. First the car crash last month, and now the dead body. It’s understandable why Yoongi’s panicked a bit.

But now he just looks at Hobi. Eyes scanning his face, a small smile beveling the edge of his lips.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Hobi says. The faint murmur of music is barely there, you're still asleep with his headphones on. Hobi had panic made a playlist on his phone after you’d fallen asleep. Putting only the most gentle instrumentals on it.

So what if he’d saved it with a cat emoji and a purple heart? Yoongi can’t possibly know that just by looking at him.

Yoongi doesn’t respond and Hobi tucks his chin, looking down at you, sleeping soundly still. The nightmare must have really tired you out because you're out like a light. His voice goes softer, like the emotion in his throat is constraining his vocal cords.

“What was I supposed to do? Let her panic? That wouldn’t have been kind.”

Yoongi's hand falls onto Hobi's head, rubbing through his hair. the touch feels like a reward. Hobi's not sure what for. “No- it wouldn’t have been Daisy.”

“Like it when you call me that,” Hobi says. Eyelashes flutter as yoongi scratched at the nape of his neck, head bowed. and he can hear the laugh in Yoongi’s voice. Hobi’s not really awake either.

“You don’t have to worry,” Hobi says “I’m not gonna like- freak out and run away if she needs something, like the first time.”

Hobi feels embarrassed about that when he thinks about it. Embarrassed and a little bit fond of the memory every time he sees the train ticket still in his wallet. The top edge is so chewed up that you can hardly tell it’s a ticket anymore.

“Sure,” Yoongi says and Hobi knows he hasn't fooled anyone, least of all your mate. hobi stands up properly, and when his hand falls, yoongi just tugs at his wrist, the callouses on his hands comfortably rough against hobi's skin. “Come on.”

You wake bleary for a handful of seconds when Yoongi puppets you, moving to sprawl out while Hobi discards the back cushions. Yoongi slips Hobi’s headphones off your ears and puts them safely to the side. wordless and publish while yoongi gets one of the blankets to tug it over your form.

Yoongi tuts and doesn't let hobi avoid the same predicament. although it's Infinitely more comfortable than his prior half-crunched position. If Yoongi’s being honest, it sort of looked like Hobi was guarding you. body curled over in a protective stance.

Alpha's are so funny.

Hobi ends up face-to-face with you. His flannel pj set un-buttoned to the middle tugged loose from your tugging earlier. the triangle of his bare chest presses against the bare skin of your collarbone as he shuffles away from the edge of the couch. Your own pj set pulled off one shoulder. Yoongi’s sitting up, his thigh warm against the top of Hobi’s head.

You’re running a fever maybe, worming your way closer to Hobi like you need it. Your nose presses into Hobi’s chest, a little cold at the tip and ticklish. Hobi squirms and Yoongi huffs. Overly fond.

“She does that to me in her sleep too sometimes. Means she likes your scent.” Hobi feels warm, and it’s no secret that his scent fluffs up sweeter, as if encouraging you to enjoy it. You re-settle. falling asleep with your nose tucked into Hobi's sternum.

Fuck you’re both so cute, your hair mixing colors on the pillow- sharing the same one because even being that far apart is too much. Hobi falls asleep with Yoongi combing gentle touches down his back. His favorite way to fall asleep- being touched so casually and consistently. You breathe against his skin, cradled to his chest. Sleeping soundly. Finally soothed.

Hobi watches you until sleep takes him.

~-~

Unfortunately, that’s not the last time you’re woken by a nightmare in the coming weeks

Over the next few days, it seems like more often than not Yoongi and Hobi wake to the scent of your terror in the air. Quieting your little sobs with soothing touches in the bathroom. Blankets are brought into the space so that you can curl up in the bathtub, darkness kept at bay by the overhead lights, its lingering shadow curling underneath the doorway trying to drag you down.

They don’t mind, at least they tell you they don’t mind when it eventually comes time to wake in the morning and your words are barely intact. Soft and rough in a way they haven’t been in months.

For you, it feels infuriating. Your non-verbalness might only be a temporary state but that doesn’t mean that overcoming it isn’t tiring. It’s frustrating. Working so hard each day to speak only to have it wrenched away again at night.

Always.

Always you wake up from your nightmares non-verbal. Guided to somewhere light by Hobi so that your fear of the dark won't rouse the rest of the pack. Soothed back to sleep by his music and some scenting. Waking up sometime after sunrise, struggling but better. A routine.

As for the pack…

“It feels like she’s going backward,” you hear Jin confess one morning while he brushes his teeth in the upstairs bathroom. he sounds afraid (he is afraid after waking up to you gone from the nest yet again for the 5th time this week- and it's only thursday). It's obvious Jin doesn't know you're within earshot but the double doors that lead to the bathroom are wide open.

Hobi sends you a fraught look. You’ve just come back upstairs after spending a few hours in the Living Room. You're only able to risk a few more hours of sleep because the sun is turning the sky all grey-blue.

“Do you think-” What he says next is jumbled by the sound of someone turning on the shower, Jungkook or jimin maybe (the upstairs shower is large enough that honestly- all eight of you might be able to fit given you where willing to risk any soap related injuries).

Namjoon’s answering hum is all dark thunder. jin's proposed solution a mystery. “No, I don’t think that would help.”

Sometimes it’s not just Hobi and Yoongi who wake up with you.

Sometimes it’s Jimin. Holding your shoulder with that firm touch looking like he’s about to snap his teeth at any incoming shadows. Sometimes you wake and he’s already sitting at the edge of the bed watching the stairs and the windows. Shirtless, legs splayed with his handgun balanced across his knees.

Or is it just your imagination? Is that just another dream because you certainly don’t see any weapons when he and Hobi pull you from the bed a few seconds later?

They take shifts. Jin and Namjoon blanket you on both sides, soft rumbles soothing you, their quiet banter a welcome melody in your private nest downstairs. Jungkook the next night- who admittedly just wraps his body around you and goes back to sleep so quick it makes you jealous, curled around your spine while you listen to Tae read you a late-night story.

Tae’s delicate murmur does all the character's voices just right. Her lips are both mystery and familiarity. She always seems to crack open the world with the first line.

“Look, I didn’t want to be a half-blood.”

They never make you speak; never treat you like they’re too tired even though you know they are. You can see it on their faces, on Hobi’s eyebags getting greyer by the day. Hobi’s the only one who's there every time a nightmare drags you awake. Even Yoongi doesn’t wake up every time.

(Although you confess it's more because you develop a routine. You and Hobi sleep by the side of the nesting nook, where it’s easy to get out without moving around too much. Close enough to each other that he often wakes smelling like you and you always wake smelling like him).

You try to talk with him about it. Guilt makes your heart feel all stuffy. Is it possible to get a heart cold?

“You know, you could just leave your headphones out-"

“No- don’t worry about it, I’ll just make it up later.”

Always. Always Hobi wakes and plops his headphones on your ears. Sometimes he seems awfully lively, grinning and cracking jokes when you burrow into his chest and wipe your tears on his shirt.

“I am like- among the top 10 worst sponges in history you know?”

Sometimes he wakes you from the nightmares before you’ve had the chance to jerk awake. He recognizes the tell-tale stillness, the quick breaths. He never lets you suffer for long. Waking you with a hand on your shoulder. Allowing you to shove him just a little because he knows you're just reacting to your dream and him bleeding together.

"It's just me- you're okay, I've got you."

Sometimes, you wonder if you’re not the only one who can’t sleep lately.

During the day you spend a lot of time in the nesting pod, catching up on sleep while it's still light outside. dreading the afternoons and evenings when the shadows linger like a looming storm. Alone and safe and quiet.

Occasionally you're joined by noodle, purring up against your stomach. Meowing at you until you lift your arm and he can cuddle close. Sometimes you feel like he knows you’re sadder than you say you are. That when the others aren’t there to watch you, you’re stiller, less mobile than normal. You don't even click away at your phone, half the time you forget to charge it anyway.

Hobi would never tell you- but a few afternoons ago he’d come home to Noodle waiting for him on the front step. He’d lead Hobi inside, little kitty face glaring back at him every few steps. Circling his curled form and yowling when he dared to take a second to take his shoes. off. Panicked and nervous, all but biting on his ankles before he led Hobi into the sunroom. His bushy tail held high.

There he’d meowed woefully at your nesting pod where you slept soundly. So loud that Hobi was worried it would wake you. As if he was trying to say “Aren’t you going to do something?”

Hobi had just quieted the cat with a soft shush and picked him up. Closing the door behind both of them. “Let her sleep nu,” he’d gotten nothing but a tearful meow in response. Some squirming, but no claws. “What do you expect me to do? I’m trying my hardest.”

Noodle keeps his secrets. Hobi’s question goes unanswered by the cat- who’d simply squirmed out of his hold and gone to wait by the door to be let back in. Glaring at Hobi’s retreating figure like he’d been betrayed.

Noodle seems to know something that the pack doesn't. He's sat in your lap during dinner and breakfast every single night this week, especially on the days you’ve slept more.

Hobi continues to try his hardest. He brings home flowers from the shop. He says they’re for Jin but puts them by the nesting pod and no one even bothers to tease him. He makes sure that you don’t fall out of the habit of going on late-night drives. Even though you don’t go back to the beach again quite yet. The memories there are too prescient.

Hobi takes you to the winding mountain road again. Drag racing one night with Jimin, because what good is trying to squeeze in a few hours of sleep before sunrise when you’ll just wake anyway? You might as do something fun until you’d wake up normally.

You leave that night a little more wobbly-legged than Hobi will admit to Namjoon when he asks later. "I'm never getting into a car with you again Minnie- what the fuck."

But sometimes the alphas do use the sunroom when you’re there.

It’s kind of nice to hear them on the other edge of your senses. When you’re dozing and Tae and Jimin want to play video games. their shouts of happiness and false outrage better than their screams of terror.

When Hobi and Jungkook want to do some stretching before they take an afternoon run, their giggles push out the memories of cruel words that ring in your ears. Yoga mats all stretched out and noodle perched on the edge of Hobi's multicolored one. Watching you, tail flicking back and forth.

They'll never know how much they help just by being there.

Or when they work on rearranging Hobi’s plants around. Fitting them into different spots like a jigsaw puzzle and moving them from room to room. He doesn’t mean to be indecisive about it, he’s just trying to find the best home for each of them.

They take the big banana tree upstairs to put it in the nesting room because that honestly has really good light and Hobi’s baby can’t be compromised. They move the monstera there too and switch the string of pearls for three big ferns hanging above your nesting nook. Shifting A big fig tree that honestly looks kinda pretty from the entryway to the corner, hanging part of the way over the small sectional.

A leggy orchid that someone bought Namjoon as a “thank you for not letting me go braindead” present is the wimpiest and smallest of the bunch. Hobi's in the process of rehabilitating it. For now, it sits on the window sill growing a single pathetic leaf.

Hobi tries to spend a lot of time nearby when you’re trying to sleep, he always seems to show up when you're having the hardest time ignoring your thoughts.

They're getting tired of you being a goddamn mess every time. Why can't you just get better? It's pathetic, Hobi is fine. Why are making such a big deal over this? But deep down you know it's not just the dead body that caused all of this.

Things are slow at the flower shop in the fall with only the occasional wedding until the Christmas season starts up. Hobi talks to you about it while he waters his plants and trims up some leaves that are dying. He’s definitely not looking forward to making bows for the whole month of December and wrestling with wreaths. He’d much rather talk to you about his ferns. The big stag leaf one that’s in the corner by the tv. And the big fluffy ones that hang above the nesting pod.

“I know they're messy but If I overwinter them we can hang them back on the porch next year, They looked so nice!”

You hum from the pod, turning your cheek to look up at him. he's got his flannel rolled up to his elbows, a shirt underneath that looks homey and warm. Hobi’s scent grows sweet. “They did look really cool this year, kind of like big green soot sprites.”

“We should watch spirited away again.”

“We should.”

You stretch out in the nesting pod while he fiddles with one of the fronds, pulling off the dead leaves with a crumple. You stretch your curled-up legs, toes brushing the ratan sides of the pod.

“If I was a plant where would you put me?”

“Probably where it’s sunniest.”

You can hear his smile on the words, you hum and go back to sleep while he works. Hobi checks your breathing every few minutes, just to make sure you don’t need to be woken up again.

Hobi never talks about the nightmares and never asks what they’re about. Which is something you’re thankful for as the days go on and they get worse and worse. You don’t know how many more nights you can wake up gasping without telling them what you're dreaming about. That it's the idea of them dying that has you so panicked. not to mention the nightly revision of the worst parts of your abuse.

Yoongi doesn't always let you escape without a bit of interrogation. Badgering you until you tell him that he needs to stop.

Jin’s just as bad, constantly hovering. You found your sleep schedule, an estimated hours of sleep you’ve gotten scrawled on the edge of a newspaper in Namjoon's handwriting. He's a little generous with his calculation- You know you haven't slept 13 hours in the last 4 days. You’d crumpled up the page and thrown it in the garbage.

In the morning you find out their motive behind it. Blinking down at your cereal and at the red raspberries bobbing in the milk. You can't help but get defensive about this; because really when you go non-verbal so often about this- what good would talking do?

“Jin, I’m not going to therapy.”

Jin looks a little bit less like his usually put-together form, button-up shirt a little looser than it might have been a few weeks back. Yoongi rubs down his shoulders as he passes. Work has been keeping Jin later and later- anytime someone asks he says something about a problem child at the home for forgotten pups that needs Jin's full attention.

It's so very like him to suggest therapy.

He pulls his fingers through his hair, trying to comb it into something orderly. Abandoning his usual routine of gel and mouse. “I’m not saying you have to go consistently- just once or twice, you went through something-“ he breaks off when Yoongi taps his hip, shaking his head.

You’re twisting your hands over your lap, again and again. But the word lands even though it was unsaid. Whereas before you and Hobi had a smart retort- now- the word feels less hollow, more heavy.

And Jin's not just talking about the body.

Jin doesn’t want to be frank, but you don’t look the best. Maybe it’s because you’d been so steadily getting better that they hardly remembered what sadness looks like on you. But now it looks like this; you sitting at the island counter, looking at your food, too nauseous to eat. Actually worried you're going to vomit if you try.

Any other morning, Jin would sit by you and coach you through it, would sit and wait for you and move you somewhere safe, somewhere softer to prod. He'd chase this worry with gentle touches. maybe he'd give you a gentle settling if you were feeling like you needed to reach that happy hazy head space to eat.

Any other morning Jin wouldn’t leave you.

But this morning, the clock says that Jin has exactly 20 minutes before he has to leave for work or else he’ll be late and miss the debriefing on the latest string of murders and drug-related reports. including a very well worded anonymous tip. it's important that jin's there for that.

It’s not enough time to drag you to some corner of the house and scent you happy. Or better- scruff you down into omegaspace where you’d be mailable and more agreeable under his touch.

Yoongi's eyes say, go I've got this, and Jin has never been more thankful for lovely enemies and a partner in crime.

But Jin simply does not have enough time to love you as he should. If Jin has to choose between making you feel loved and making you more physically safe he'll choose the latter every single time.

Baby steps. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and criminal empires won’t fall that quickly either.

“They’ll go away, I know they’ll go away because they did last time,” you reaffirm, only half believing it. You and Yoongi don’t talk about when you first moved into this house, but the truth is these nightmares aren’t really anything new for either of you.

At least this time they don’t come with you hurling your guts up every night. At least this time your words return in the middle of the day. At least you feel somewhat human right now.

Jin sends a fraught look in Hoseok ’s direction. Clearly requesting backup. He holds his hands up, straw in his mouth and ice coffee in his hand. “I’ll go if she goes.” Is all he says backing away. Clearly not ready to take Jin’s side with this. Late for work himself.

Jin almost misses when you guys were adversarial, rather than banded together as a unified front.

I never expected the pups to unionize

He sends Namjoon in a text a few hours later, After no less than 3 separate meetings that have him feeling more than a little tired himself.

Joonie (1:18): Really? I’d thought you would have been ready, no plans to destabilize the monarchy up your sleeve?

Jin can’t stop his smile, he’s conscious of who might be watching, so he hides it with his palm. Flirting on the FBI’s time has never felt so good.

What would you recommend?

Joonie (1:23): Spanking and sweets probably.

That at least had made Jin feel a little bit more at ease. But he knows what Namjoon really means, that he’s saying they should talk about this later face to face. Or worse there isn’t an easy solution. Namjoon had warned him that a request for therapy, however gentle and well-worded it was, might not go over well.

But what else can you do when someone won’t accept your concern? When love falls short? For the first time ever Jin is unsure what you need.

Over the next few weeks, you can tell that they’re being overly gentle with you. Treating you with velvet gloves.

Namjoon barks an order at Jungkook and Hobi when they rough house too close to you. jostling you where you stand unsteady in the bathroom. Tae lets loose a sleepy growl when Jungkook back hugs you one morning- something ordinarily innocuous but now makes you flinch hard. hand pressed over your heart to stop its thundering. Both times Jungkook tucks his tail smelling sour at being scolded even though it's really not his fault.

Everyone's instincts are running on high. Your scent is so off these days. Something about it muted and only getting duller. Jin didn't realize until the other day when he tried to find a pillow that smelled like you while nesting and couldn't.

The head of the FBI's largest organized crime task force, brought to sniffles over not being able to find the right pillow. What would Jin's enemies think?

Yoongi had only sighed, and relinquished his shirt to Jin's nesting. At least that was the next best thing.

but it's not only the little things that they're holding off from; it's sex too. You can clearly tell that they want to instigate something when you come upstairs one night after spending a few minutes with Tae in the library room.

Jungkook sat's tight across Namjoon’s lap. Moving his hips in a way that's sensual clinging to the pack alphas bare chest and licking into his mouth like an omega starved.

You know what they want to do- christen the nest in a way, truly break it in and make it smell like the pack.

But they'd stilled at your appearance and you'd made yourself scarce, clearly not ready to be asked to stay (or scarier- asked to leave). When you'd come back after showering the room had smelled of sour unhappy arousal and Jungkook had been pouting on the other side of the nest from Jin and Namjoon.

You hadn't heard the whispered argument. "You're treating her the exact same way you treated me when my seizures went bad."

"That was a different circumstance Koo and you know it."

"Still- it doesn't change the fact that you're making the decision for her instead of making a place that's safe enough for her to decide what she wants."

The idea that Jungkook and the others are holding off for your sake has you feeling even more guilty.

Even Tae- once insatiable, now hardly lifts her head from her computer when you walk into the library room wearing next to nothing. You know it’s just that. Just busyness that she's been spending every available second writing her new story.

But you can’t help but feel odd about it. Half guilty and half extra. Unwelcome.

Neglected isn’t the right word. Neglected is the word that Hobi would use for his orchid or the cactus that he accidentally forgot about outside. Two plants that are equally as finicky, opposites but maybe not in terms of difficulty. One praised for being beautiful, the other coveted for being hard to take care of.

It feels like that a lot of the time, that you're just hard to take care of. you're an adult you shouldn't even need to be taken care of at all.

That night- you toss and turn in the bed. Unable to sleep because you can't help but think about it, your thoughts a rushing torrent of you're such a bother. Maybe they're just trying to let you down easily. Maybe all of the love is a lie. You should try harder, if you try harder to overcome this then maybe they won't ask you to leave.

Sadness has rotted your brain a little, you don't know how to get back, how to stop the spiral. Until your hands are so tight that your nails dig into your palms. Leaving bloody little crescents.

The next day you try to catch up on sleep. In the nesting pod. A dark spot. Out of sight and out of mind, where all broken things go when it's clear they can't be fixed in a way that makes them useful. But it feels like you've only slept a few minutes when you're roused- not from a nightmare, but because someone gets into your nesting pod with you.

You smile in your sleep at the scent of honey, rich and golden. So nice and sweet that it makes you get goosebumps. Jungkook noses at them, dragging his cheek along the hair on your arms, soft and pleasant in that sensory sort of way.

Even though the nesting pod was a gift from Namjoon you'd been clear to Jungkook and Jin that they could use it whenever they wanted to. They're always a little bit more inclined to nest upstairs.

You sleepily hold out your arms for Jungkook, only cracking your eyes a little. You're not prepared for the sight of him in a crop top. blinking as you register it. Your pulse climbing higher. Jungkook doesn't say anything, doesn't say anything at all as he pulls his body along yours, settling mostly on top of you. quiet until you query "Kookie?"

He smells a little like the gym, but more like he'd showered there and then come home. You don't remember what day it is, what his schedule was. But the house is quiet around you, it must be one of his early days then?

His nose rubs smooth little circles along your neck, and when you pull back his eyes are a little glassy. "I miss you," he says, voice cracking a tiny bit. You don't have to ask why he misses you when you're right here. You know and your heart clenches painfully.

you laugh, "you just saw me this morning." but his lower lip wobbles, and you know thats not what he meant. it's frightfully easy to knot your fingers in his hair and pull him down to eye level. "c'm here."

You can tell by the way that Jungkook kisses you that he wants you, his arousal burning skin deep as his tongue laves against your lower lip and his hand slides down your chin to cup your scent gland, fingers pressing over the sensitive skin delicately.

You're so fucking tired.

Jungkook’s sex drive is honestly the highest in the pack, and you know that they usually keep him well tended to. But you also know that because of your predicament, no one’s tended to his needs in the last few days. You can smell it on the edge of his scent. Sweet but overly sweet, like a hovering cloud of settling perfume, unable to settle. Just getting stronger.

It’s not your job, and it shouldn’t be anyone’s job per se, but the idea of turning him down is so displeasing that you won’t even if you’re not really in the mood right now. You're so fucking tired. There isn't room for anything else. you don't have the energy to want this, you don't have the energy to want anything but sleep.

You kiss back, a little gentler than he wants, the soft needy noise he makes against the seam of your mouth tells you just how welcome it is. Your arms are sluggish as they go around his shoulders. He grins happy, and you grin too- because Jungkook’s joy is honestly so infectious. You let him tug you up, tug you out of the nesting pod even though your heart lurches.

This is your use to the pack, isn't it? The youngest omega, the lowest one in the hierarchy. You shouldn't say no and deny Jungkook what he wants. This is the way that he feels free, the way that he makes himself better.

After the pack's sleeping quarters had changed, there’d been a whole debate over where exactly to put the pack's sex toy collection and what to do with their old bedroom on the first floor. The side closet is no longer big enough or in use.

Installing some shelves in the bedroom had been the easiest solution. now they frame either side of the windows, holding Tae's overspill of books at the top and a few display cases. You remember the first day you'd wandered in here in search of your mate and found some suspicious-looking brackets installed along the ceiling studs, sawdust piles sweeper up on the floor.

“It’s totally not a sex dungeon.”

“Babe, you’re making a display for Jungkook’s dildo collection with a built-in sex bench.” At least you can still tease your mate when you're sad like this. Every little semi-normal comment you make feels like seeing the sun during a break from the storm. Even Yoongi's pout is half a smile.

“Just because I want there to be a bench doesn’t mean It’s a sex bench. It could be for like- watching tiktok and stuff. You know Hobi likes to find a spot where he won't bother us.”

“It’s totally a sex bench.”

“Is not.”

Yoongi is too fun to rile up. You'd watched him blush as you and Jungkook had playfully grabbed and swung on the ropes Yoongi was hanging, the heavy thick cotton ones soft to the touch that won’t irritate his loves sensitive skin. testing out the brackets meant for suspension.

Jungkook’s just as giggly and happy when he drags you there now, and your smile is very real pressed to his shoulder. The farthest thing from fake. it might be the first time you've smiled today. Jungkook always makes you feel this way; a little younger, a little bit like you’re sneaking around. That at least feels right.

You're very good at concentrating on the parts of sex that feel good, the parts that you want and not the ones that you don't.

(This morning the others had talked about it with Jungkook. Jimin and Tae had cuddled close to brainstorm. The way they often talk about sex things and pack things. Jimin's snorted honesty still stings.

"I don't know if Yoongi could literally fuck the sadness out of her, but at least it's a suggestion."

Jungkook had felt petulant and whiney, "But why doesn't he just try- if anyone's got a magic just right dick it's him-" Tae had chased Jungkook's disappointment with a kiss.

The truth is; the pack is mostly at a loss with how to help you this time. The most they can do is just stay close and make sure you have everything you need. But lately, not even that has felt like enough. Tae had scrapped her nails down Jungkook's abs, soothing him, with a bit of tingly pain pleasure.

"You're the only one whose bad mood can literally be cured with a good fuck bunny.”)

Yes, Jungkook is trying to make you feel lighter in the only way he knows how right now. But there are different medicines for different hurts for a reason.

Jungkook guides you down to the sex bench, tugging at your shirt a little. Still kissing you. Up close you realize it's actually more of a daybed, styled very attractively with a few throw pillows. One that's more memory foam and sturdy for propping bodies up.

It's no secret how sweet turned on happy Jungkook smells from just a little kissing, just the bare minimum. Jungkook moans- a crocked needy sound, scent pulsing richer in the air. He squirms a little bit, reaching over to one of those shelves. Rummaging in one of the frosted acrylic buckets.

“I’ve had this idea for weeks now that you've taken Joonie’s- fuck- I just- I didn’t know when you’d want to try it but I saw this video online with two omegas and Jin said no but- ha! Here it is!”

You gulp.

The big purple thing is a veritable monster, glittery and double-ended, ridged not like a regular dildo but more like a tentacle. It's about as thick around as your wrist. Namjoon’s a little thicker but still-

it makes fear trickle down your spine, warm and almost bleeding.

Jungkook reads your expression. And the disappointment crests his cheeks, his bunny smile falls, and you feel like you’ve failed already.

At the thought of being filled right now. You feel like you might want to vomit. You try not to have any sort of expression, just a small smile- but fall abysmally short. You’re too tired, too sore, too tight to properly enjoy that.

The idea that your sadness is enough to get in the way of this, what Jungkook so clearly needs is suddenly too much for you to bare. Jungkook needs sex, doesn't he? He needs it to make the seizures feel not quite so damning. He'd told you once- how much he required sex to feel loved. It's his love language right? Isn't this what people always say when they want physical touch?

Who are you to say that your needs are more important than his? You certainly do not love yourself as much as you love him.

Jungkook’s frown is heartbreaking and you easily kiss it away. Making your kisses more eager. You’re a good kisser and a good actor. Your kisses make Jungkook feel all fluttery and hot in the chest, quickly forgetting about the dildo and whatever plans he might have had.

"Just want you- don't want-" words get in the way of kissing, sucking, you mouth at Jungkook's lower lip, making him groan.

Jungkook’s scent gland is a semi-swollen little lump under your teeth as you nibble on it, making him part his legs, grinding up into nothing and letting out a breathless whine. You set yourself across his lap and his big hands quickly fist on your waist pulling you snugly.

You don’t mind this, you really don’t.

It's too routine for you, the first thing that you reach for to avoid saying no. His belt buckle is warm against your palm as you shift so that you can slide to the floor. Pulling your body away from him. he lets out a needy bereft sound. stopping you as you start to tugg at his waistband.

his cheeks are pink, lips red from kisses when you pull back. "I-"

"Let me kiss you here Koo." Let me at least do something. Let me stop feeling so guilty, I know how to fix the guilt even if you don't.

Jungkook catches your chin before you sink to the floor. Jungkook has a hickey on his abs glimmering there just along his hipline. The crop top pulled up to right under his pectorals in a way you know would have the alphas growling and mouthing at his stomach. That's probably how he got the hickey in the first place.

“But you don’t like it.” He says, not quite understanding. Catching your hand as you slide it across his knee.

“I want to try.” You lie, "I-I feel like I’ve lost practice, need to be taught how-” You bat your eyes, looking down and away like you're embarrassed. Just let me do this and make you cum. Just let me get this over with so that we can go back to cuddling and I can feel safer. Jungkook always gets especially cuddly after he's cum too. “I don’t- I don’t do it for the alphas like at all." Your stuttering isn't all faked. You’ve lost practice in a lot of things, but lying clearly isn’t one of them.

“Or Yoongi” Jungkook notes. A little too quickly.

Your heart pulses, Bruised a bit at that. You've never explicitly discussed the abuse you underwent with anyone but Yoongi and Namjoon. You didn't think anyone really noticed how much you don't like giving blowjobs. It's not that you don't want to reciprocate or touch- it's just that once with Geumjae, the choice to reciprocate was taken away from you. The choice to get anything at all was always taken away. It's hard to forget that, to want it again.

You remember his words. He'd always been violent with words before he'd ever gotten violent physically with you. Coercion doesn't feel like it has the same weight compared to that (Hobi would probably argue with you- but his case was different wasn't it?)

"You're so fucking selfish, you could help me in like- 10 minutes but you're choosing not too. We could go back to having a normal fucking evening. I do so much for you and even now when I can't fucking sleep you won't just do this one fucking thing- it's not like I'm asking for much. You're too young, I should have known you wouldn't know how normal relationships function."

It's foolish of you to think that you could be selfish forever. You should get used to this with Jungkook so that it's not so bad with the others later. In case they ever realize how selfish you've been.

“Yeah,” you swallow back a lump in your throat. “But can I? I want to-” You make your eyes wide, biting your tongue hard so that your scent doesn’t go sour.

Jungkook looks like he’s warring with himself for a second but then the hornyness wins out. He pulls his pants down his thighs and you help him, big and muscular as he stands, you on the floor before him. It feels right in a twisted way. See I know my place, see I'm not trying to get away with anything.

Jungkook almost trips when he moves to get a pillow for your knees because he’s not a monster. Namjoon and Jin have taught him well.

Jungkook is not a monster.

If you said no, if you said that you wanted to stop you know he wouldn’t hold it against you. At least not at first, at least not this time. After the 4th or 5th or 10th attempt you know that wouldn't be the case.

Jungkook doesn't even have large enough of a cock for it to feel like a real blowjob. His bunny eyes are wide and eager as you give it a first little kiss. Tentative. You kiss the head again, focusing, dragging your lips up the sides and nuzzling into the skin of his hip, indulging in his scent because at least Jungkook smells nice, smells clean, before you take him into your mouth

Geumjae always smelled a bit like piss. Tasted like it too. At least Jungkook's not like that.

He can be forgiven maybe, for not noticing right away. For not asking if you want this twice. A muted curse falls from his lips instead and he carefully cradles your head. A little startled.

"Fuck- ah-" The muscles of his abdomen tense beneath your touch, startled by the sudden influx of pleasure and the wet tight hot heat of your mouth. "I don't think you need any practice- fuck-"

Omega cock tastes less bitter than alpha cock does. And Jungkook’s dick is honestly so small you can’t even choke on it properly. He doesn’t hit the back of your throat when he rocks it into your mouth. Eking pleasure from the tight seam of your lips.

He doesn’t even hit the back of your throat or engage your gag reflex. So, you wonder why your eyes start watering. One of his hands fists (albeit a little bit too sloppy to be totally gentle) in your hair, using it to keep you stationary while he fucks your mouth. Little rolls of his hips that end in cute, "ah-ah-ah" sounds leaving his lips.

Good, you're doing good. Your nose is buried in his skin. With the little tuft of hair there, Jungkook must have showered at the gym because it doesn't smell like anything. Just breathe.

You know Jungkook doesn't get stimulation to his cock often. The others much prefer to fuck his hole rather than pay attention to it and that works in your favor now because Jungkook's so sensitive. You feel his cock jerk a little, tensing as his abdomen does, flexing up against the pallet of your mouth. Especially when your tongue teases at the head. Finding the ridge of his frenulum and pressing up.

Your lungs sting but you keep your tongue flat, lapping up at the underside, keeping your mouth wet and messy and not swallowing yet. Jungkook's precum tastes a little salty, not as salty as alpha cum would taste like but still not bad. Just a little bit like sweat and a little bit like honey.

Jungkook looks down at you, sweaty hair sticking to his forehead his lips falling slack in pleasure. Hips twitching up, looking debauched and lovely from it already. Pride swells, even as you have to fight back the urge to gag. Quieting the revulsion in your stomach through force of will alone.

You can do this, you don't have to make a big deal over it-

Jungkook tips his head back, closing his eyes, and you're free to shudder unwatched. "Fuck- just like that- you're so good at it, fuck-" You wonder if you get this same wide-eyed subspace look when you’re sad if that’s why he doesn't notice. Your knees burn, hands tighten. One on his hips the other digging into your thigh.

You hear someone outside in the hall and before you have the chance to even think about pulling off they're opening the door. Jimin almost trips, Clearly not expecting to see you on your knees or Jungkook with his legs splayed and shirt rucked up to show his tummy.

You pop off Jungkook’s cock easily, jaw aching already (you really are out of practice) Jimin’s look is all predatory, alpha pheromones bubbling up. One second startled, the next prowling in your direction like a jungle cat.

“Ah pups, getting into trouble? Pups having a treat?”

Jungkook giggles, spreading his knees wider, fingers stroking down your cheek as you catch your breath. Wiping the spit from your lips. “We’re not done yet,” he huffs. You blink up at Jimin and the touch he drops on your head is everything. Soothing your frantic panting. You push up into it, eager for a casually loving touch.

"Wanna make some trouble with us?"

“maybe, think i'd much rather watch" He teases, jutting his chin at Jungkook and settling down next to him, leaning on his chin to watch you as you're urged back to it. You kiss Jungkook's cock again as the alpha guides him into a kiss. Settling his happy-turned-on pheromones into a thick bubble that bursts.

You lap at Jungkook’s cock head, making it messy. Watching the two of them get distracted by kissing, licking into each other’s mouths. Jungkook's hand falls from your hair in favor of cupping Jimin's thigh.

And you below them, an afterthought.

You ignore the longing in your chest and go back to sucking Jungkook off. After a minute or two, Jimin's hand returns to your head, his knuckles rub against your cheek in lazy circles.

It would feel loving any other time but not right now. Not when you're trying to ignore the voice that whispers in the back of your mind that this is all you're good for. On your knees, mouth open. Finally useful. Finally worth the bother of loving. A voice that doesn’t come from any of them but sounds suspiciously like Geumjae's occupying your thoughts.

Jimin's hands are on your head too, rubbing against your cheek. Wiping away a little bit of spit on the corner of your lips. He clearly thinks you're deep in omegaspace. Interpreting your quiet softness for that sweetness and not this devastation. there is always a moment of quiet before a disaster, an intake of breath where everyone braces for impact.

“My good little princess, making your packmate happy, look at you pup,” Jimin croons. Clearly enjoying the pretty picture that you and Jungkook paint.

If anything, it's hearing that old pet name that makes you break. You're fine until you're not.

You're just so tired.

There is wetness on your face and it’s not spit or slobber or cum just tears. Little sniffles. your first one goes un-noticed by them, but not the second or the third. Jungkook freezes. And suddenly the fingers on your cheeks aren’t pulling you closer to Jungkook’s hips but off. Tilting your face. Jimin's hands quickly push Jungkooks away.

Jimin has stoney eyes, his mouth hard and discerning, lips parting. “Pup?” Jungkook’s already got his hand on your arm bunny eyes the soft opposite to Jimin’s. Jimin effortlessly transfers you from the floor to the couch. "Oh pup."

You wipe at your tears stubbornly. “Just one second, just give me a second and then I can keep going I promise, I’m fine- I’m fine” you keep repeating it, keep saying it but you smell so sour-sad. Your pout wobbles hot tears welling up threatening to spill over renewed.

But in what world would they ever let you cry during sex without pre-negotiating? In what world would they let you cry without comforting you?

“I don’t even know why I’m crying but I can't stop-”

No sooner have the words slipped past your lips are they pulling you up from the floor and into their laps, manhandled and small. You fight it a little. but Jimin crushes you to his chest and you sag. t

Jungkook has never gotten less turned on quicker, a packmate's distress takes so much precedence over this. Pulling up his pants. His pleasure isn't even a thought in the back of his mind. You take precedent.

Jungkook thought you knew that.

He feels helpless, helpless as you scrub angrily at your mouth, he uses his sweatshirt sleeve to wipe the saliva and spit from your mouth, then your tears from your cheeks. "Oh fuck- I'm so sorry- fuck I-"

And oh, you're crying into Jimin's chest now, real tears. Sobbing harder.

Jimin glances up and for a second he looks a little angry. He has every right to be angry at Jungkook for this. He's barely been here for like, a minute and a half. But the anger isn't welcome, you're too close to Jimin's scent gland, flinching when he starts to smell sour. Pulling back, so so so terrified, quivering in his lap.

"I'm sorry alpha, just give me a second and I'll get to you too-"

Now Jimin's angry for a whole new reason, angry at people he can't punish, people who are already dead. Jimin feels his anger in his hands. Struggling to stay gentle on you.

Oh fuck that.

Jimin’s fingers pinch at the back of your neck, scruffing you until your scent mellows out a little. "None of that now." He snaps, sharp shifting from concerned packmate to commanding dom effortlessly. "You'll do no such thing. You're going to stay right here until I tell you I'm done holding you."

Jimin's firmness is exactly what you need. You feel his power in his arms, crushing you, restraining you. Jungkook is not a dom, and that has never been clearer than right now. if he was than you would have never gotten into this predicament. "Can't you be good and do what Alpha asks?"

"Yes Alpha" you sob.

Jungkook looks at you guilty, eyes swimming with tears too. He's always been a sympathetic crier but he doesn’t let them spill. Even if Jimin spies them. His lower lip wobbles as he looks at you. Reaching out to hold you too and then snatching his hands back at the last second. If Jimin's touch is your remedy then Jungkook's is surely poison. “Why didn’t you-”

“I just- I just didn’t want to be bad.” You know what they’re about to say, that saying no wouldn’t have been bad but your brain is all terrified of it.

“M’sorry” Jungkook wants to say that there’s nothing you’ve got to apologize for that it’s him that should, but it’s difficult. It’s so difficult when you’re crying so hard it kinda feels like you might pass out. hyperventilating a little. He can do little more than loop his arms around Jimin's waist and trap you between the two of them, sandwiching you. Applying pressure. Holding you tight. In a way that has you instantly plummeting. Down past subspace, past omegaspace, where everything is dark and bland and nothing. Where you're nothing.

“M’sorry Koo-” He doesn’t trust his wobbly voice to speak as you sob out, “Don’t tell them, don’t tell Namjoon and Jin or Yoongi please- don't want them to worry. It’s not Koo's fault it's mine. I’m fine. m' just feeling off. I’ll be better alpha I promise.”

Luckily there is no one home. No one is home to hear any of this. Jimin has always been perilously unable to deny his girls their silly wishes. And if the idea of Namjoon or Jin knowing has you panicking anew then Jimin will take this secret to the grave.

Jimin soothes you with a happy alpha rumble, feeling exactly the opposite- wishing there was Namjoon or Jin to call for backup. This is clearly not normal crying. Jungkook surely couldn't have put you into subspace but somehow you're dropping. Leaning in to every word that graces Jimin's lips like you need the absolution he brings.

“But you’re already so good for us pup- already so good for saying no even though it was hard. Here. Lie out so we can hold you. Here.” It's what you wanted from the beginning someone close by enough to touch enough to cuddle.

Only this time it feels even less like you deserve it.

You make yourself as small as you can. Jungkook and Jimin alternate, kissing off your cheeks. Until you stop crying and fall asleep. Crying yourself back to sleep. You really were just sleep-deprived.

Jimin's got one arm around your waist, another cradling the back of your head. And only once he's absolutely sure that you are completely asleep does he hiss over the top of your head.

"Jungkook What the hell-"

"I asked, you know I asked. She said she was okay I swear-"

A whispered argument ensues, drawn out until the others come home. Their anger quieting at the sound of them, Yoongi softly calls your name. Mindful of the fact you could be sleeping.

When you wake up around dinner time you're non-verbal and pupish. There are too many people around for Jungkook to be able to pull you to the side and ask, to just talk this out. He watches you close at dinner, watches and waits for a chance to talk to you that won't come. You'll pretend you're asleep tomorrow when he wakes, just to avoid it for a little while longer.

If the others notice anything strange with you at dinner time no one broaches it. Of course, you don't speak at all. Answering their questions with shaken heads and careful nuzzles under Tae’s chin where you sit side by side with her. Your chairs pulled together so that they’re more of a bench. She smells so good- so Rosey that you press your face into her shoulder to avoid the other's eyes.

Never mind the fact that you don't smell like anything at all. Maybe you're dissociating too bad to smell like anything. So disconnected from your emotions that you can't feel them let alone smell like them.

After dinner you take an extra long in the shower so that by the time you exit the bathroom Jin has already scruffed Jungkook sleepy. He looks cute too. Pouting in his sleep, restless.

There's an extra soft nesting space carved out just beside him that he made special for you with a few pillows and his favorite nesting things. It will go unused.

That night, you don't bother trying to sleep.

~-~

Please Like, Comment, and Reblog <3 every word helps motivate me to write the next chapter!

Series Masterlist ~ Donate ~ Twitter

Come tell me what you liked about this chapter!

Upstairs floor plan:

Chapter playlist:

Noah Kahan - Call your mom

Coldplay - Sparks

nick cave and the bad seeds - O' children

Pine Grove- Need too

[jellyveesh]

Feel free to reject but can we get the Hazbin Crew with a Reader who’s sinner animal form is a fainting goat?

face first

fandom ## hazbin hotel (fainting goat-sinner reader)

characters ## charlie morningstar, alastor, angel-dust, husker, sir pentious

prompt ## the hazbin hotel is filled with unique characters, and amongst them is a little goat sinner with a habit of just... fainting? how will the residents of the hotel treat their newest addition, and how will they react to their disorder?

contains ## SHOW SPOILERS, gender-neutral reader, canon-typical character behaviours/habits, swearing, reader has a neuromuscular disorder, autistic coded lucifer

thank you for the request!! i hope i did it justice masterlist

for some context, 'fainting goat' syndrome is actually called myotonia congenita - an inherited neuromuscular disorder characterised by the inability of muscles to quickly relax after a voluntary contraction, like flinching

the disorder is not only common in goats, but can be found in humans too!

so chances are your demon form was formed as a result of your disorder when you were alive, and so you became a goat featured sinner

and whilst yes, this may be hell, and yes, people have seen it all, you randomly just fainting is absolutely horrifying

and yes you've found yourself in many precarious situations and, as such, would have to be strong to fend for yourself in this dog-eat-dog world

so when the opportunity of a safe haven, poorly drawn on a flimsy piece of paper and stuck messily to a notice board, is presented to you... you, of course, go to check it out!

CHARLIE MORNINGSTAR

honestly, when charlie first met you, she was instantly drawn to your goat-like features

because like, you're clearly twins! she's goat themed, you're goat themed! what could make you less twin-like?!

so she wasn't really listening when you randomly and shortly mentioned you have a habit of your muscles seizing and you dropping to the floor during stressful situations as a result

and charlie was likely the person who first triggered your 'fainting' - simply with one cheerful outburst

she had been particularly excited to try out a new redemption activity that she squealed super loud, unsuspecting to everyone to everyone else who got equally startled

then you just kind of... dropped, to the ground, face first, with a sickening crack

charlie thought you were dead.

like actually

full blown panic attack whilst the others minorly panicked

after a few moments, you managed to break free from the tightness of your muscles and sit up - heaving a huge sigh in relief and rubbing at your bloodied nose

it was like you had been revived

charlie got up and immediately started apologising, hugging you and petting at your head in an attempt to comfort you

she also apologised for seemingly brushing past such an important detail

charlie then sets out on a mission to 'faint-proof' the entire hotel, or at least the areas you'd likely be in frequently

she also makes sure that either razzle or dazzle are with you whilst you're inside or outside of the hotel, so they can alert her if you do have a fall or need help

will never forgive herself for that one incident, and will still panic every time you fall but it's endearing - because it shows she cares a lot

she also scolds the others if they ever intentionally (some of them do, all the time) attempt to scare you so your disorder kicks in

charlie and vaggie are honestly the most accommodating to your disorder and help out wherever they can

ALASTOR

oh, he finds it endlessly amusing

one of the sinners who will intentionally startle you just to watch the spectacle

at least has the decency to make sure you won't hurt yourself, he's gentlemanly enough to at least catch you before you hit the floor

but he does everything in his power to spook you

it's funny

and he finds it kind of cute, because he saw it happening to goats when he was alive

and you've reassured them multiple times that the disorder doesn't actually hurt, it's the act of hitting the floor that does

so what's the harm?

but he also gets extremely annoyed if someone else scares you and triggers your disorder - because like... why are they playing with HIS entertainment?

will accompany you outside of the hotel often, because, really, what's scarier than the radio demon? nothing, that's what!

he joins in on charlie's faint-proofing efforts, but only half-heartedly because he enjoys the excuse to hold you

did i mention alastor loves goats, because he REALLY loves goats

if your muscles seize for an extended period of time, alastor makes it his job to take care of you - ensuring you're comfortable and kept company

this is regardless of whether he's the cause or not (he probably is)

despite his endless teasing, he really does like you - you're a sweet addition to the hotel and you're polite, and honestly... that's a step above nearly everyone besides charlie, and is extremely rare for hell

if you also enjoy old jazz music? sold, you are now his favourite little sinner (sorry nif)

ANGEL-DUST

another resident who tests the limits of your disorder - but instead of scaring you, he enjoys teasing you in flirty ministrations

especially because it seems like being flirted with startles you

he will also catch you though because it's all harmless fun, but he'd kick his own ass if you got hurt over something stupid

much like alastor, he is also really protective of you if someone OUTSIDE of the hotel messes with you

got mad at cherry once for doing it and carried you home grumpily, ignoring cherry's texts until you convinced him that it didn't matter and she didn't mean any harm

she promised she wouldn't do it again

she did it again

i feel like angel enjoys tracing the grooves of your horns - it's like, really therapeutic for him

separately, sometimes angel gets really insecure and needs reassurance that what he's doing to you isn't too far because consent is key

you're fine with it, constantly reassuring him you don't mind and you actually find it kind of funny

and when you express that you find it funny because you trust him and know he wouldn't do anything to harm you, you best believe he will cry a little

only a little bit though (he cried a lot)

actively keeps you FAR away from valentino - because in a seized up state, you are undeniably vulnerable, and that momentary weakness could drag you into his line of business

absolutely adores you, coddles you, and he will protect you with newly found fierceness

you trust him and he will NEVER break that trust

HUSKER

honestly doesn't care that much

well, not at first anyways

after a while, once he realises that alastor has a sudden interest in messing with you, he becomes a little protective

and a huge worrywart, not that he shows it...

but he definitely sticks close to you throughout the day (where his job allows) and escorts you to places, hissing at passer-by's who look a little 'spooky'

another one who catches you frequently, and he also has a pillow behind the bar that he throws under your head if you go to collapse against the bar

uses your disorder to his advantage, but not often enough for it to become a predictable behaviour

IT'S NOT AS BAD AS IT SOUNDS I PROMISE

he will just do something subtle to make your muscles contract so you'll seize up if you're being difficult so he can drag you there

like refusing to go to bed

you literally stomp your hooves against the ground

like, it's bed time, go!

has fought and will continue to fight people for treating you like you're less than them because of your disorder

if you want a drink, he will stay sober - so he's in a good frame of mind you make sure you get to bed safely without head bumps and bruises at the end of it

you're your own person and allowed to do at you please, so husk doesn't baby you or limit you - but he's pretty solid for good advice, so if he advises you NOT to do something... honestly, it's a smart idea to listen

but he will help you fix your messes if you still do the thing he told you not to

because he's a softie at heart

is truly your number one protector, him and angel have a mutual understanding that they'll defend you regardless of circumstance

SIR PENTIOUS

the second most terrified of the consequences of your rough falls, just after charlie

ORDERED his eggbois to keep an eye on you, because like... what if you fell and died?

unlikely but not impossible, so every necessary action must be taken to ensure this incident does not occur!

he will be so soft spoken around you and never startles you, and is the ONLY one in the entire hotel who hasn't caused you to fall - the first time he saw it happen, he was determined to make sure it didn't happen again

i love sir pentious, please save me from this brainrot this is not okay...

he offers up his living space for you if you ever need a getaway from the others and is very pleased when you take him up on his offer

makes him feel super accomplished

also makes him feel like he's won against everyone else in the hotel

sir pentious is definitely the most 'domestic' aspect of living in the hotel, but he definitely also babies you - he'll plate up your food, fetch your belongings, get you a drink, etc. at the slightest mention of what you needed

i need a man like sir pentious

is so sweet too

if you're having a bad physical and mental day as a result of your disorder, or even for other things, he's immediately by your side - blankets and snacks in hand, and movie suggestions on the tip of his forked tongue

"ssssssshall we watch an action movie?"

he will also just hand you an eggboi to cuddle, since he himself is too shy to actually initiate a hug - so, unless you hug him first, don't expect him to do it

in this household, we LOVE sir pentious <3 and in this household, he loves you right back

[madtomedgar]

Since fools are hand-wringing about (cis) women (and afab trans people) "mutilating" themselves by getting hysterectomies because it """harms""" their bodies and shows an alienation with the body:

The uterus has no hormonal or sexual function (according to my drs). It is a bag to grow a baby in. If you get rid of it, and not the ovaries, you can expect such horrrors as:

A mild and temporary mood drop from hormone fluctuation, especially if you had an IUD that was removed with the uterus.

Some minor temporary intestinal problems as your organs readjust to the gap.

A few months of sexual dysfunction while the body readjusts itself. It went away entirely on its own within 6 months of surgery.

Some mild confusion once a month when you feel like killing or crying about everything but because you no longer menstruate you get no advanced warning or bloody reminder that this is only the standard hormonal fluctuation and not a new type of insanity hitherto unbeknownst to science.

That's it.

Insisting that there are other treatment methods for things like endometriosis and PCOS is actively harmful. I promise you we have tried them all, whether we wanted them or not, whether they worked or not, whether they made things worse or not. It is pretty much impossible to get a doctor to agree to a surgical solution until you are 30 and have tried everything else for at least a year per alternative treatment. Some of these alternative treatments, like lupron, can have awful, permanent consequences for your body, like irreparable loss of bone density, while only working in about 1/3 of patients, and then only temporarily. You can't be on it long term because it will destroy your bones. Most of these treatments involve preventing menstruation, since that's when the symptoms are the worst. For context, I've recovered from surgery without painkillers, I've broken bones, and neither one of those was anywhere near as bad as peak endometriosis symptoms. Heavy bleeding and hemorrhaging, which also occur in these disorders, cause other issues for you body, including but not limited to chronic anaemia.

I get wanting to rehab the uterus' image. I get concerns, given the history of medicine, over a misogynistic society just cutting women up to their detriment rather than treating them holistically and effectively. I get wanting to keep your own uterus. But panic doesn't help here, and neither does insisting this organ is special and necessary and it's function is special and necessary.

If you want to freak out about women being pushed to harmful, unnecessary surgery, gastric bypass and other weight loss surgery is right there y'all.

[paranoidginger]

Mann or Machine

A post-Spy's Disguise Engiespy angst fic (For real though, please go watch Spy's Disguise by Fortress Films on YouTube if you have not! This takes place after that short movie, and has references to Emesis Blue as well!)

Tw: Minor Gore, Violence, and Body Horror

At first, the change between human and machine was a blessing, a self-taught command that gave him the upper hand and made him feel nearly immortal. After the sawmill incident, all of that changed, however. The changes became unpredictable, uncontrollable... The intersecting of man and metal was never meant to be, it was an error in the program of a broken disguise kit. It had broken the moment it hit the first sentry, and the rest, as they say, is history.

At first, it had felt like a superpower, something to flaunt and embrace; Now, however, it felt more like a curse. After the nightmares, and seeing the video that doctor Fritz Ludwig had taken while in his care, it was clear that it was an ailment, as opposed to anything else... He and the engineer that kept him company had lost contact with the doctor not long after the incident, both dismissed from their faction of Builders League United and left to make themselves as normal lives as they could, without any aid from the company.

The pair had moved onto land that the Engineer already had in his possession, a small ranch, fairly isolated, but close enough to a nearby town to get regular groceries and whatever tinkering supplies the engineer could have possibly wanted. It was safe there... But all the same, Spy struggled with himself, unable to properly regulate and prevent the unwanted shifts between man and machine. PTSD... That's what Doctor Ludwig had called it... Post traumatic stress disorder... It wasn't surprising, after what he had gone through...

Spy sat quietly, his mind buzzing as he tried to read a book. He was on high alert, by himself in the little ranch house he shared with his dearest Engineer... They hadn't always gotten along, some days were better than others, but they had been able to bond as colleagues, then as comrades, and now... Perhaps they were more. He was all alone, poor Pierre DuPont, left to his own devices as he waited for Hal to return from the store.

He saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye as his arm raised, as if by reflex, rotating barrels taking over and spraying shots towards what the machine in the back of his mind deemed a potential intruder. He hadn't heard whenever the engineer had opened the door and came inside, bags of fresh groceries in hand as he made his way to the kitchen, interrupted by the sudden spray of bullets. The wall beside him was marred with bullet holes, all but one having missed their target.

"D'aw shit-" The man muttered quietly, hissing as he lightly touched the blossoming wound in his side. "T-that's my fault... I didn't mean to spook ya, darlin'..." He exhaled a shaky laugh, carefully setting the bags of groceries down beside him as he pressed his hand to the bloodied hole in his side.

The Spy scrambled to his feet, unable to force his arm back to normal as he dropped the book he had been holding, rushing to the other man as he wobbled slightly on his feet. This wasn't supposed to happen...

"No! Non, please... Mon dieu... I didn't mean to-"

"Shhh..." He cut the Spy off, not allowing another word from the taller man "It's okay, I've had worse. One bullet ain't gonna put me in the ground." He looked up at the spy, watching as the other man continued to panic. Gently, he patted the other man's cheek, grabbing his shoulder gently after a moment "Look at me, Pierre, I'm gonna be fine. I'm gonna go get myself patched up, you take care of these here groceries, alright? I'll be ok, I promise." Hal gave a small smile, sighing gently as he made his way to the bathroom to patch himself up, making sure to be loud enough for the other man to be able to hear him as the Spy got to work, carefully putting away the groceries as he fought to push his guilt and worries down.

That night was quiet, Pierre having eventually corrected his arm once again with his Engineer's help. They sat on the couch together, Hal's arm wrapped gently around the other man's shoulders as they watched a movie together, the Spy eventually falling asleep at his side.

Pierre's sleep was plagued with nightmares, memories of Hal 'dying' playing back in his mind, followed by the fresh scene of him shot and bloodied by the Spy's own hands. He met the machine again... A twisted mirror version of himself, a robot with his face... It had been peaceful that first time, but now, it came at him, aiming for the jugular.

Hal was jostled awake by the seizing, jerky movements of his unconscious partner, bits of him swapping in and out of humanity, his head tipped back slightly as his mouth began to froth. Quickly, the engineer grabbed hold of Pierre, hugging him gently as he carefully moved him down onto the floor, pushing the coffee table out of the way as he fumbled to grab a small flashlight off of the wooden surface.

"Shit- shit, goddamn it-" He straddled the Spy as he continued to seize and twitch on the floor, gently opening one of the other man's eyes and shining the light into the dilated pupil, wincing slightly as it failed to react. Metallic barrels took over both forearms, rotating back and forth with jerky, clicking movement.

"Come on, damn it! Wake up!" The engineer grabbed the front of the other man's shirt, wincing at the pain in his side as he attempted to wake him up, shaking him slightly. "Come on!" He shouted through his teeth, his eyes beginning to water slightly as he knelt over Pierre's seizing body.

After a moment, his arms returned to normal, the seizure seeming to finally come to an end. Quietly, Hal watched, hesitating for a moment before gently cupping the side of the Spy's face, watching as his chest rose and fell with his breaths. Pierre shuddered slightly, his eyes opening just a bit before Hal was forced to yank his hand away, the familiar rocket barrels of a sentry closing around the man's head, the rise and fall of his chest becoming shallow and frantic as he awoke.

Pierre let out a muffled, mechanical scream, grabbing and clawing at what had once been his face. Quickly, the Engineer moved off of him, hissing slightly in pain as he hoisted the other man into a sitting position, grabbing one of his hands and hugging him gently as he traced his thumb over the other's palm.

"Breathe! I need ya to breathe for me!" Hal called gently, worry evident in his tone as he held the other man close, preventing him from scratching and clawing at the metal that now covered his face. It took some time, but eventually, the Spy's breathing returned mostly to normal.

The rocket launcher that had replaced his face lifted once again, pulling away from his head with the mechanical arm that had placed it there to begin with, tucking back down into the motor that had protruded from his back, which slowly retracted inside of him, leaving the surface of his back no different than any other man's...

"There you go... There you are, darlin'... I've got you..." The Engineer spoke softly gently cupping the other man's cheek for a moment before the spy slipped his hands beneath Hal's arms, pulling him closer and hiding his face in the crook of the smaller man's neck, shaking as small sobs wracked his thin frame. "It's gonna be alright, sunshine..." Hal's voice was soft and gentle as he held the other man close, beginning to rub his back slightly as he just sat there, doing his best to comfort Pierre.

The next incident was nearly a week after Pierre had shot Hal by accident. Another late night, another bad dream... He thought he would be fine... He had woken up, just like he had so many times before.

The Spy made his way to the bathroom, careful not to wake his sleeping partner, turning the water on and running his hands beneath it, splashing his face slightly before looking at himself in the mirror... His eyes were blue again... They weren't supposed to be blue... There was a metallic clink as his arm hit the edge of the sink, feeling too heavy to hold up as it shifted once again to the multi-barreled machine gun that he couldn't keep from happening, his other arm following suit. It hurt this time... Why was it hurting? It had never hurt before.

He took a couple of steps back, his breaths catching in his throat as he began to run, stumbling slightly as he made it to his room... Their room... After everything, he couldn't find it in him to sleep alone... He had shut the door.. He bumped it with his shoulder before ramming it harder, pain radiating through the contact points as began to shout.

"Wake up! Hal please-" His legs gave out beneath him, the motor on his back popping out once again, and that horrible metal arm forcing the launcher barrels back over his head, muffling his cries for help as the rest of his body folded in on itself, leaving a sentry once again in his place.

Congratulations, you made it to the end! I'm leaving it up to the readers to help me decide whether I want to leave it as a one shot, or if I should give this another chapter! Feel free to vote below!!

Part 2

[violentvaleska]

𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

ғᴏᴜʀ ᶜᵃᵈᵉᵗ ᶜᵒʳᵖˢ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴘʀᴏᴘʜᴇᴛɪᴄ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇ, ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛs ʏᴏᴜ ʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ; ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀ ғɪsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ғᴀᴄᴇ. ᴛʜᴇ sᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴄᴏᴍᴍᴀɴᴅᴇʀ sᴇᴇᴍs ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ ᴍᴏʀᴇ sᴏғᴛ ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ʜᴀɴᴅ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: suggestive, blood, violence

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ↫ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ɴᴇxᴛ ↬

ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪsᴛ

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @xiernia @ajmiila02

Dreams swallow you whole the moment you experience them. They can be quite sweet, showing you happy moments, foolish desires and moments you might have cherished from your past. But sometimes your dreams become twisted. Sometimes scenarios flash before your eyes, shameful moments you can't control. One in particular has you screaming. The dream itself began intensely, the Section Commander had you pinned against a wall, hands eagerly holding you, while his lips sucked on your neck. You can't really remember how that scene turned into a bloody and disgusting one. You've dreamed of Mike being caught between titans, his screams still haunting you and vivid images of him being torn apart and eaten won't let you go. Right now you are shivering, breathless with panic, tears streaming down your pale cheeks. The whole women's barracks has been frightened to death by your agonized cries, and it's not long before Captain Levi bursts into the barracks, closely followed by Hange.

His usually spotless shirt is half unbuttoned and hangs loosely around his heaving chest. He fell asleep on his desk an hour ago, papers under his head and nightmares haunting him. The moment he heard blood curdling screams, he knew it wasn't his demons. He was awake in seconds, grabbed his beloved knife and ran after the unbearable screams. Levi thought at first that someone had broken into the sleeping quarters of his female subordinates, but there was no stranger or fellow soldier disturbing the young women. There is only you, screaming and kicking, your back arched up, your chest rounded. Your eyes are rolled into the back of your head and there is a thin line of blood running down your face, coming from your nose. Emma gently tries to shake you awake, but it takes more than that. It's a disturbing image and Levi rushes to your side, his knife hidden in his trouser pocket.

"What happened?" He kneels at your side, the question directed at Emma, who has small tears in her eyes.

"I don't know, she just started screaming." She cries, her fists clenching your nightgown. When Levi was a child, he saw one of his mother's colleagues have a similar episode. His mother never gave it a name, but mentioned that it was a sleeping disorder. Unable to calm her down, or even wake her up, the Captain lets out a frustrated breath and pulls his arm back. With a quick movement, he swings it back and strikes your cheekbone with such force that you are instantly jolted awake.

No one seems to understand why you are crying or screaming so bitterly. Hange even suggests that you are possessed by a demon, but Levi is simply frightened by the sight of you. The plague of your lost memories must have really screwed with your head, and he still doesn't know what happened to you. Your eyes are wide open and full of pain as you stare at him with your mouth open. Confusion, shock and fear are written all over your features. Then it hits you.

You can't stop crying, muttering about Mike being torn to pieces, trying to convince Captain Levi and Section Commander Hange that Mike is dead.

"We should take her to the nurse." Levi mumbles and carefully urges you to stand up and leads you out of the barracks. Your skin is cold, but your whole body is covered in sweat, as if you've been drenched in freezing water.

"Can you hear me, Faye?" He asks, but doesn't get an answer. "This is new." He thinks bitterly and shakes his head in frustration. He has seen soldiers plagued by nightmares, after all, he himself is haunted by them. Some comrades even suffer from night terrors, their cries similar to yours, but they run around the headquarters disoriented and can't remember it the next day. Your incident is different. Eyes rolled back, stiff with fear, almost suffocating. Did you experience sleep paralysis?

Deep in thought, he barely notices that you've stopped crying and started to speak in a raspy voice that almost crushes him.

"Mike is dead." Levi lets out a sigh and grips your shoulder tighter.

"No, he's not. He's sleeping." He promises, desperately hoping to avoid an argument, but it only seems to confuse you more.

"I heard his screams, his bones breaking and saw his flesh being torn. I smelled his blood." You swallow hard and walk weakly with him, not questioning where he is leading you.

"It was a nightmare. The nurse will give you something to calm you down." He promises and, to your surprise, gently strokes the tangled hair behind your ear. He can't help but to think that you look beautiful like this, weak and in desperate need of help. Levi gulps, giving himself mentally a slap. He certainly must be experiencing sleeplessness.

"It felt too real." He doesn't know how to answer, it wouldn't do to reassure you of the delusional night attack you've suffered. So he silently leads you through the corridors, the many possible scenarios making him anxious, and after explaining the situation to your nurse, he leaves you in her care, sitting silently by your side to watch over you. He will not let this happen again.

After hearing about your incident, Mike had to go and collect you in the hospital wing. You were still asleep, due to the medication you had been given, and at your side sat Levi, fast asleep in a chair, much to his surprise. As he entered, the black-haired soldier opened his eyes and let out a deep groan as he realized where he was.

"I didn't expect to find you here." He whispers and slowly walks over to your recumbent body, a small smile on his lips at the sight and smell of you.

"I was waiting for her to have another attack." He explains simply, not bothering to speak in a hushed voice.

"What exactly happened?" The Section Commander wants to know, Hange wasn't really specific, only spoke of 'demonic possession' and Mike doubts that an angel like you would have such tendencies.

"Fuck, if I know." Levi scoffs and stretches his arms, walking past Mike to leave the hospital wing immediately.

"Make sure she doesn't fall off her horse. She's an incompetent rider."

You wake up, rub your eyes and briefly notice someone leaving as you turn your attention to the other man in your room. At the sight of him, something in your chest tightens, making you sit up immediately.

"I overslept, didn't I?" You squeak, your voice hoarse and your cheek painful. Did someone hit you? As you touch your cheek, Mike gently takes your chin between his fingers and moves your head up so he can see the bruised skin.

"Levi got you good, Hugh? You must be a fast sleeper." Confused, you lock eyes with him and then the memories of last night hit you. Stiffening at his touch, your eyes widen and your lips part.

"I- Section Commander, you..." unable to form a sentence without stuttering, Mike slowly steps back, giving you some space.

"Relax. You can tell me everything when we get to the Southern Division. Get dressed. We'll leave in ten minutes."

━━━━━━━༺ - ༻━━━━━━━

The journey has been tiring, and after what seems like a whole day, you can finally see the headquarters of the Cadet Corps from afar. You told him about the dream, obviously leaving out the first, more pleasant part. That would have been inappropriate, after all, he is a high-ranking Section Commander and you are just a cadet. However, he had been a bit flirtatious with you in the last few days, which even the Commander had noticed.

"Write down everything you can remember. Leave out no details. If you don't send a report, Erwin will probably send Levi to motivate you." He explains, smiling at the conflicted face you make at the mention of the Captain's name.

"And if I experience something similar to yesterday?" The thought of experiencing something similar, especially in front of strangers, frightens you. You're actually glad that the nightmare you experienced was the last night with the scouts, they'll surely forget about it in the next three years, right?

"Personally, I don't think it's that important, but Erwin would want to know. He's infatuated with everything you do, it seems." Mike explains, shuddering slightly at his own observation. It's true, you think, Erwin has been strangely interested in your mere existence ever since Eld found you. He is obsessed with you. Not in a romantic or sexual way, no, he rather likes the feeling of having found a mysterious thing like you. It pushes him, urges him to find out all your hidden memories, just like Levi, although the little man is not as fascinated by you as his Commander. At least you hope that's the case, as the Captain seems to have a sick fascination with making you suffer. You don't answer Section Commander Mike, instead you sink into your thoughts and let them consume you.

Would it be a stupid idea to choose a division other than the Survey Corps? It would definitely hurt the Commander's ego, pride and hostility. Besides, it would be in your own interest to find out more about your past, and you feel that the Scouts are the only ones who can help you. You don't seem to have any chance of getting into the Military Police Regiment anyway, and the garrison is your only other alternative. To be honest, you are not even sure what they do, you have only heard about them a few times from Commander Erwin. The closer you got to the southern training corps, the more nervous you became. Eren Yeager could be the key to your mind, and you really hope he can unlock that stupid dark hole in your head.

You are greeted by a bald man with an expression that challenges Levi's. He looks from you to Mike, a deep glare in his almost angry face.

"Erwin better have a good reason." He spits and watches you, making you wonder how much he has been told about you.

"What's your name, cadet?" He asks and you instantly freeze at his tone and salute him as Levi taught you. Your right hand, clenched into a fist, moves to your chest while your left automatically rests behind your back.

"Faye, sir." He looks at you suspiciously, glancing at Mike.

"What, no last name? Don't tell me she's like Levi, I don't need two of that bloody midgets." You wonder what he means by that and furrow your brow, noticing that the Captain is only referred to by his first name. Strange indeed, has he lost his memory too?

"Engel. Her name is Faye Engel." Mike makes up his mind in seconds and puts a hand on your shoulder, patting it lightly.

"Forgive her, Commander. Levi hit her pretty hard in training. You won't regret taking her on." He promises and begins to list your skills, or lack thereof.

"She showed promising talent in the ODM, is patient and obedient. Also willing to learn, you won't have much trouble with her." Shadis nods his head in silence, finally letting you relax.

"Alright. Follow me, Cadet Engel. You'll be introduced to your new comrades." Turning to Mike, you smile at him and wave goodbye.

"Thanks for everything, Section Commander! I won't let you down, I promise." His thin lips form a smile and he hums in agreement.

"Don't be afraid to write to me sometime, little angel." With that, the two of you say goodbye and you follow your new commander to a wooden building, a blush on your cheeks and your heart beating against your chest. A simple crush can't hurt, can it?"

Following Shadis into the building, you are greeted by a raucous group of teenagers who make you instantly regret your decision.

"Get down!" The Commander's voice is loud and aggressive, and it's impressive to see all the young soldiers in training stiffen under the demand, their voices shut and their eyes wide open, staring at the Commander and at you.

"This is Cadet Engel. From now on she will be part of your training. Ackerman, show her around." A girl with beautiful black hair and pale skin stands up, her face emotionless, and walks in your direction. A red scarf adorns her neck, and as you get closer you notice that her eyes and nose are slightly different. You believe that her ancestors came from the eastern world, and you look at her beautiful hair with fascination.

"I am Mikasa." Stoic, cold and rather shy, she introduces herself to you, hiding her face in her scarf.

"Faye." You introduce yourself, feeling like a liar for using the made-up name.

"You can join us for lunch." She offers quietly, turning quickly to one of the tables. You follow her without a word, feeling like a puppy on a list with all eyes on you. At first you thought you were the oldest here, but as you approach the row of tables where Mikasa sat just seconds ago, you notice two young men who seem to be closer to your age. The black-haired man introduces them to you as Reiner and Bertolt. Across from them are Jean and Connie. A girl with a great appetite for potatoes waves to you. "This is Sasha." Mikasa adds with a roll of the eyes. At the same table, but at a considerable distance from the others, are two girls; one with a rude expression, the other with a warm smile. Her name is Krista, while the brown-haired older girl's name, to your surprise, is Ymir.

“Armin.” She points at a young, blonde haired boy with blue eyes and rosy cheeks. He appears too innocent to be enlisted in the military, much like the Krista girl. You then turn your head, meeting a pair of green eyes. Breath hitching in your throat, the boy's eyes widen at you. You recognize him from your dreams, though that joyful youthfulness in his face is gone.

"Eren?" You ask in awe as he nods his head.

"I'm sorry, I can't remember your name, but I know you." He says, seemingly deep in thought.

"I'm from Shiganshina." You speak, a sinking feeling in your stomach.

"Maybe we lived in the same neighborhood?" He offers, looking at Armin and Mikasa.

"Right guys?" The blonde just shakes his head in confusion, wondering if he might have seen you before. Mikasa on the other hand just shrugs.

"Your- ugh father. He was my mothers doctor." You explain and take the seat Reiner offers you. It feels so easy for you to spread these beliefs, and yet you don't even know how many of the scenarios you've dreamed are actually true. You figured now would be the best idea to challenge them. He eagerly nods his head, agreeing that he might have met you that way before. If they were not to be true, Eren would ask whatever you ment. While dreams are the door to your memories, they can also inundate you with twisted images of your past. After the hour-long journey, Eren offers you a roll, insisting that you need something to eat. Finally agreeing, you reach your hand across the table, ready to gratefully take it from him. As your fingers touch, something strange happens, something that makes electricity shoot through your body and for a moment you see a strange image before your eyes. Eren, a little older than he is now, is standing on a wall, looking into the distance. Directly behind him a monstrous titan, glowing with heat, flesh burned from his body, leaving nothing but muscles. The colossal titan.

Eren lets go of the roll and gulps at you, as if he had been struck by lightning. At that moment you realise that he must have seen and felt that too, whatever it was.

"Sorry." He breathes and picks up the bread as an awkward silence consumes both of you.

"It slipped." The boy tries to rush an apology and quickly puts it in your hand, grinning uncomfortably. While Connie jokes about Eren being stupidly in love, you feel someone's eyes on you, but the moment you turn your head, that feeling is gone. You had that strange feeling twice before, once with Captain Levi, the other time for a brief moment when Section Commander Hange ruffled your hair. Both times you saw images flash past your mind's eye, but the strange images you saw with Levi have stayed with you the most. It was the day he checked your legs for marks, and whatever he did to you, you didn't like it at all. Intimidating scenarios, situations over which you had no control. It was shameful, unspeakable things you saw, much worse than what you had dreamed about Mike.

You used to think it was the way he dared to touch you, but now you are sure it was something else. And it certainly wasn't lost memories.

[k-ru-h]

i think ds9 fans should be legally obligated to read ASIT before they talk about garak. its so weird to me that so many fans characterize him by the words he literally says when thats like, the thing the show outright tells you not to do. people will write him as depraved or cruel or a mindless caricature of a patriot. people will also forget cardassia is literally structured like a cult. it follows extremely strict rules detailing everything about ones life, and breaking those rules results in severe punishment or even death. it worships a higher idea and everyone must set aside everything else for full submission to it. your means are always justified if its for the state. and there are cardassians who speak out and try to dismantle this! but due to the way cardassia is structured (with people not being allowed to choose their jobs) its not high ranking officials or agents its jobs cardassia doesnt value and thus doesnt keep a chokehold on. garak didnt choose to become a member of the order he was forced to. he isnt like dukat, hedonistic and delusiouned. hes a little kid beaten up bloody on a daily basis because he made a slight mistake. hes a little kid hiding the pet he named after his mom because if anybody finds it theyll kill it. hes a little kid who has to fight to prove himself as worthy because hes seen as worthless due to his heritage. hes a little kid standing in the hot dessert sun for hours until he literally starts hallucinating to show to his peers that he is good enough. when hes pretty much forced into therapy he doesnt understand that what happened to him is wrong despite literally having panic attacks due to traumatic memories from his childhood (post traumatic stress disorder yk). he had to abuse substances to stand living because it was unimaginable to him to ask for very acessible accomodations. his love for cardassia isnt the shallow bullshit our conservatives peddle. his father (tain never was one) was a pagan following the belief of indigenous cardassians. he had the chance to live a life of comfort but he gave it all up to choke on dust and smoke and drag bodies out of rubble with no food or water or shelter. he chose to help his people and his land even though it meant giving up everything. he isn't hedonistic or cruel hes a cult survivor healing and redefining his entire worldview. julian isnt a silly little guy with a spy fetish he sees garak for who he is. dont do my favorite middle aged lizard like that

[4-ustin]

Huh.

@obsessedwithyouxx I gotchu (ignore this post was from a month ago and someone probably already did this.)

TW: Death, Mentions of Suicide

Dead Ponyboy Headcanons.

-How did he die? lets be real, Either by his own hands or in the church.

-And lets be real, man. They cant afford another funeral for him.

[Church fire death/Pre-Johnny & Dally's death:]

-Lets just say he ran in for Johnny instead of Dally

-Johnny still gets hit ofc, but so does Ponyboy

-Ponyboy gets hit straight in the head with a fucking shelf falling through the roof as he's dragging Johnny out (the church has a 2nd floor in my hcs..)

-He and Johnny are just halfway out the window and Dally drags them out and tries to put out the fires..

-Ponyboy's shirt is burnt half off, so is his left pant leg.

-Dally's put in Ponyboy's situation, except he doesnt get knocked out and is consious the entire drive to the hospital.

-Johnny's fine for the most part, still alive (for now)

-Ponyboy is hanging by an actual string, he's bloody and covered in burns and can barely open his eyes.

-Darry and Soda are in the hospital within half an hour

-Dally follows them into Pony's hospital room, he has no clue of Pony's condition

-Ponyboy dies while they're in there. His last words were to Darry and Soda, and he simply said "I'm so sorry,"

-Dallas is shocked Soda is crying Darry is wailing. Literally BAWLING. He is crying so loud a doctor comes in to make sure everything is fine (it is not)

-Darry is surprisingly hit with it the hardest, he develops insomnia and Panic disorder.. But hes not really formally diagnosed with PD because they didn't really pay that much attention to mental health back then.

-Soda's hit second hardest, he literally loses his girlfriend AND his little brother. Sometimes he goes to wrap his arm around the space in his bed Pony used to sleep in.

[Suicide death/Post-Johnny & Dally's death:]

please do not read this part if you are sensitive to this type of content.

-Yeah.

-Im not spesifiying how he did it.

-thats just too far.

-But it happens.

-I think Soda would find him after getting back from work.. It's too late by then, Pony is gone and dead.

-It's terrifying. Soda is stunned and he just starts silently crying, he collapses to his knees and holds Ponyboy

-Steve is in the middle of talking when he walks in on Soda sobbing and holding Ponyboy's clearly lifeless body..

-He's stunned but has the sense to actually call Darry's workplace and 911

-Not like 911 can do nothin

-Darry gets there as fast as he can he almost gets pulled over

-Darry is filled with so much unneeded guilt.. All he can think is "I shouldn't of been so harsh on him" (this is before the dinner scene even happens)

-Soda wishes he would've urged Ponyboy to talk about it more, because it was so obvious he was hurting.

-The gang became less of a gang after Pony kiled himself, they were more just kids who were all friends with each other

-Darry became more serious and Soda became more timid

[drifting-pieces-blog-blog]

A Safe Place: Part 5

Summary: Jake has one happy place. His pride and joy and comfort. When things go south, this is what he turns to.

Marc has started to rely on Jake to be his solid force. The unshakable rock that keeps them all stable.

Steven knows better. They are all delicately balanced on a thin wire.

What happens when one of them takes a spill?

Pairings: LaylaxMarc, LaylaxJake, LaylaxSteven

Universe: MCU

Warnings: Dissociation, Depression, DID, Habits of self destruction, discussion of mild self harm, talk of child abuse, depictions of eating disorders (in relation to depression), PTSD

Word Count: 7358

Previous Chapter HERE

Part: Five - The car is back! But the damage is done. Jake's idea of a perfect and safe place has been broken. Can the others help rebuild it?

Next Chapter Coming soon.

-----

Is this what I’m like? Marc watched the body pace. There is no way I’m this bad. I’m not this bad. 

“Yup.” Steven had to focus. It was taking everything in his willpower to keep them contained. “Worse. Way worse.” 

Thanks buddy. Marc knew Steven didn’t mean it to be offensive. He was on high alert damage control and couldn’t soften the blow like he usually did. Can I help? 

“Nope.” The body paced around the small space in the flat at a dizzying pace. “I got this. You just… You just sit there.” 

Marc felt bad just watching. He’d never actually seen Steven work before. Not like this. Though, to be fair, usually when Steven had to work, it was Marc that was causing the problem. 

Speaking of the problem, he could feel the ball of anxiety growing inside them. 

Layla had made an executive decision that she alone would go get the car. She would find out what state it was in and then report back. It was a decision that Jake had rebelled against. 

Words had been said and Layla had put her foot down. Perhaps it was the long night she had spent on the floor worried about the men she loved. Perhaps it was the night she had spent calming Marc down. Or maybe it was the night she had spent waking up after her husband had woken up thrashing from a nightmare… 

Either way, when she had told them to sit their asses down and wait for her, they had taken a seat and watched her leave. 

Marc knew she was trying to protect them. If the car was totalled and trashed, she knew that it wouldn’t end well. She was trying to prevent a total meltdown. At least a public one.

It’s going to be trashed stripped down for parts radio gone tires slashed wires cut banged up crashed broken scrap heap gone gone gone fucking gone the car is gone broken pieces of pieces

Jake was loud. It was hard to ignore him. Marc had never heard Jake be this loud before. He was used to Steven prattling on and on and on… But Jake was always notoriously silent when not in control. 

“You gotta relax, mate.” Steven mumbled. “Breathe. Settle. Just stop thinking about it for a minute, okay? You’re making me want to jump out the bloody window.” 

The anxiety was rough. It leaked out of Jake and spread to the already anxiety ridden other two like poison. 

I have to go get it. Taking too long. Gotta go get it. I should have gone. What if she can’t drive it? What if it’s…Where will they take it? Can’t leave it there. Need….Need to call a garage. Towed there… Get it checked over. I know a guy. Call him. Steven call him. Let me call him. I need to-

“Bloody wait a minute!” Steven ran his hands through his hair and paced harder. “Just wait. Okay? Let Layla look it over and call us. If it’s bad, she will tell us. If we need to call a garage, we can call a garage. No sense in getting worked up like this.” 

There was a fight. For once, Marc wasn’t at the center. 

In the scuffle Marc blinked in and found himself beyond disoriented as he looked around then down at the body. He wasn’t supposed to be there. Everyone was in a panic and stressed and in pain. He was the last person that should be left in charge in times like this. He was the bloody fist, not the gentle hug or quick retreat. 

Marc stopped the pacing and did what he did best and stood firmly still in the middle of the room. He could picture himself rooted to the spot. Nothing would knock them down. 

It was hard to function and focus with the commotion inside. He closed his eyes and pushed it all away. It was what he used to do, after all. 

Locking down his feelings. Locking down the situation. Locking down the body. 

Perhaps a little too locked down. 

Everything faded a bit and the world muffled out. All movement stopped and he only felt a little bit of guilt. He knew that when this happened that no one was going to get in. 

“Sorry Steven.” He thought he could feel the etching of Steven poking at the barrier as he tried to take charge again. 

Time passed, though it felt like years were stretching out and rushing past in seconds. 

Marc. He could hear Steven calling. Marc the phone.

Marc couldn’t move. He was too rooted to the spot in a time and place where nothing else existed. 

Pendejo! The phone! Jake snapped.  Oye, Steven. He’s stuck. 

Oh, now you want me to do it? Steven snipped back at him. That’s cute. ‘Steven don’t stop me from causing problems but don’t let someone else cause problems either’ What a fine deal. 

He could feel a collective pull and the body responded. There was a hard blink as the room came back into focus around them and they sat down. He reached out a hand and felt the floor then slowly moved it to pull the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. “Mn.” It was the best he could do. 

There was a pause and all three of them strained to listen. “I’m at the impound. So the good news first, okay?” Layla was trying to be as delicate as she could and it set off alarm bells in their anxiety pit. 

Marc gripped tighter, digging in as he pushed back against both of them that wanted control. Steven often called it ‘The Marc Rock’. When he settled in so hard that there was no hope of bumping him. Jake called it a pain in his ass. 

“Yeah.” He had no idea what the proper response was supposed to be. 

“It starts!” She cheered and he could feel that she had hoped to be speaking to Steven. Reliable, optimistic and full of hope Steven. He could do Steven. He had practice. 

“Fantastic.” He forced a smile and the accent muddled as he remained monotone despite his best efforts. “That’s fantastic. Does it drive?” 

He felt the heavy pause as Layla processed the dry rendition of Steven Grant. Thankfully she chose to not address it just yet. “Yeah. It drives.” She sighed. “More good news is that it isn’t smashed up either! They didn’t crash it. The police said that this was rare. Usually the car gets abandoned because they crash it.” 

Was Jake supposed to respond? He dropped the smile and started to rock a little. He didn’t know how to pull off Jake. “Great. Glad they didn’t fucking crash it. Cheers to them. Real saints we’re dealing with.” 

Marc started to feel the anxiety rise. She was keeping something back. He could feel Jake like an angry tiger pacing inside. 

“Just… Give me the bad news.” Marc slid a hand through his hair, feeling his insides start to coil. 

“They broke the door handle and lock to get into the car. Didn’t scratch it though! Just… Ripped it clean off. They also broke off the cover under the steering wheel. There could be more but I’m no mechanic. That’s just the obvious stuff. Oh, and your bag of supplies is missing.” 

They all waited for more. When Layla didn’t continue they all let out a breath no one knew they were holding. “Okay.” 

“Okay?” Layla sounded a little flustered. “That’s it?” 

“Yeah.” Marc frowned and stared down at his trembling hand. “So… Do we get to drive it home or do they need like… forensics or some shit?” 

“They’re done with it. There’s not much else the police can do. Don’t expect them to find the guy either. Not much help really. I have to pay a fee just to get it out of the impound lot too.” She was grumbling and he could tell she was eyeing someone nearby. Layla had no qualms about telling people off when needed. 

“That’s fine.” He breathed out and dug his fingers into his leg to stop the trembling. “You know the parking space. Just… Just put it there.” 

Not safe. Not there. Taken once before. Anywhere else. Gotta move it. Gotta protect it. What if they come back? What if they trash it? What if others come? What if-

“Fuck. Just… Fine. It’s fine. Just… Put it… Put it there. Put it back. Okay?” He dug in harder, struggling to be the rock and hold his calm. 

“Is this Marc?” She had lowered her voice, further confirming that she was near enough to someone else for them to hear her conversation. 

Marc paused and frowned as he dug his fingers into his leg further. “Yeah. Yeah. Pretty sure it’s me. I’m… Having a… Jake says just put the car back.” 

She was quiet again and he rocked harder. 

“Please.” He breathed out. “Steven says we can’t go out. We’re actually pretty messed up right now.” He admitted and winced. Why was he telling her that? Now she would be worried. “Sorry.” He cursed under his breath and felt the panic rising. 

“Marc, honey?” She was talking softly. “Listen to me. Okay? Listen to the sound of my voice. Do you hear me?” 

Marc closed his eyes tightly and tried to block out the panic. It wasn’t his. He knew it wasn’t his. Was it? He always felt some level of anxious. He was a walking panic attack on the best of days. A simmering breakdown that was always waiting to unleash. A slow speed car crash that just never really got done crashing. 

“Yeah.” He tapped a finger on the phone rapidly. 

“Okay.” She let out a frustrated sigh and he imagined her standing in some station glaring down anyone in her way. “Can you tell me what’s going on?” 

Marc could feel Steven nagging at him for control again. He could feel Jake freaking out. Here he was in the way. He wasn’t letting Steven do his job. He wasn’t helping Jake stay calm. He was sitting there like a lump. He couldn’t even go with his own wife to pick up his own damn car that wasn’t even registered in his own name. 

 “I think I’m having a panic attack.” Marc winced again and wished he’d let Steven answer the phone. “What do I do? I can’t fuck this up. Jake’s freaking out and Steven can’t get through. I’m stuck. I’m fucking this up!” 

He looked around the apartment. What was he supposed to do? Why was he in charge now? Was he supposed to be calling someone about the car? Was there something he could do to help calm Jake down? 

“You aren’t fucking anything up.” Layla’s strong voice came through. “Listen to me, Marc. You are going to be okay. You have nothing to panic over. The car is fine. It isn’t your problem. Steven is fine. Jake is fine. You are going to be fine.” 

Marc shook his head though he knew Layla couldn’t see it. “I’m in the way. I can’t get out of the way. I need Steven. He’s dealing with Jake. I’m just making this worse. I just make it worse.” 

“Where are you right now?” She was louder this time, making sure he heard her. 

“I’m… I’m in the apartment. On the floor.” He flopped back and stared up at the ceiling. “I want a drink.” He admitted out loud. 

“Please don’t.” She whispered now. “I’m not there to stop you. You and I both know you have a bottle hidden in the cupboard. You and I also both know that it won’t help anything.” 

Marc flushed, angry for a moment at her then at himself. He sighed and looked over at the cupboard. “I won’t.” He was quiet as he felt the body suddenly ground and become real. 

He hated it. 

“How far out are you?” He imagined there was paperwork and all sorts of crap she had to do. 

“I’m actually about to start driving. Just signed the last release form.” She sounded relieved. Probably eager to get home to her messed up husband before he trashed himself. 

Marc stood up. “Great. I’ll see you in a bit.” He hung up and moved before the others could start pestering him again. 

He dressed in a hurry and rushed out the door. Steven would disapprove if he knew. Maybe he wanted Steven to be mad at him. 

He was halfway down the street when he felt a gentle nudge from Steven, asking what was going on and where they were going. 

Marc ignored it and picked up the pace. He felt a crawl of anxiety as Jake came back from whatever time-out Steven had put him in. 

They were both painfully aware of where they were when Marc turned down the familiar street with the row of parked cars. 

Not a good idea, Marc. Steven warned. 

“We have to do it at some point. You going to just keep us locked up all week? Just rip off the bandaid.” He grumbled as he walked. 

At the empty parking space, he planted his feet like two stones and waited. He could feel Jake’s urge to pace and Steven’s urge to fidget. Folding his arms, he stood still and waited. This time he could feel the stiffness of his joints, the ache in his back, the tension in his muscles… 

The car turned the corner and Marc gritted his teeth as he felt Jake leap up like a lump in his throat. “Fuck off.” Marc grumbled. “Give us a minute, and you can check out your stupid car all you want.” 

It was that easy. Jake stepped back and Marc watched as Layla pulled up then carefully parked the car. She sat in it for a moment and looked out the window at him. She knew it was him. No one else stood like Marc Spector. 

No one else managed to look as pissed off with such a neutral face. 

She sighed and opened the door. “Hey.” 

Marc looked at her then his eyes slid to the door. “Fuck.” He slowly took a step forward and touched where the door handle used to be. 

A bit of plastic still jutted out where it had broken off. There was a slightly scuffed hole where the lock had been. He traced it and felt a weight in his hand. 

“Stop it.” He muttered as his hand started to tremble. “You can fix this.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the discarded lock from when they had first found the car missing. “No sense in crying about it, Lockley. You know how to fix this better than anyone.” 

Layla raised an eyebrow and stepped aside as Marc got into the car. 

Marc quickly looked the car over as his training kicked in. He knew what it was supposed to look like and feel like. He could almost sense what had been altered. 

Pieces of plastic and a couple of screws were on the floor. The cover that went under the steering wheel had been removed in a hurry. He checked the bundles of wires and found them still intact. 

His eyes traveled to the ignition and he found a large empty hole. He traced the area and slowly looked the thing over. It was scuffed up pretty badly but at least it looked like it might still work. All he needed was a screwdriver. Or something flat. 

“Tch. Amateurs.” He had hotwired more than a few cars in his time.  “You could have done better and left the damn thing pristine.” 

Sitting up in the seat, he put his hands on the steering wheel. Slowly turning it he found no resistance and it felt stable. Since Layla drove it, he assumed it turned well enough and that the brakes and gas still worked too. He slipped the key into the flat area and gave it a hard turn. 

His heart was in his throat again as he listened to the engine turn over then start.

The check engine light flickered on and held. The idiot had probably jostled something while fumbling around. 

He sat back, adjusting the seat and moved to pull the door closed. Clicking the lock button a few times to make sure that hadn’t been broken. The windows went down then up and he adjusted the mirror. 

Satisfied, Marc closed his eyes and slowly relaxed. “You good?” 

He took a glance at himself in the rearview mirror and his eyes sharpened and his lips tightened. 

“Fuck you.” Jake’s grip tightened on the wheel for a moment then he breathed out slowly. “Yeah. It… It’s fixable.” 

He slumped forward and rested his forehead on the wheel for a moment. “I can fix it.” Jake let out a long and slow breath then took another one. “I’ll order the parts. It’s going to be a pain to get the ignition fixed but…  I’ve worked with worse. Thanks, Marc.” 

He listened to the car running for a moment then reached over and flipped on the radio. 

Station one. Classical piano drifted out at them. Moving through the buttons, he found a few of them had been changed, but he could easily put them back. 

Are you alright? Steven was closer than they realized. Standby for damage support if needed. 

Jake nodded. 

There was a light tap on the window and he looked up to find Layla standing there. 

Are you going to let her in? 

Jake felt his chest tighten. Someone else had been in his car. They had invaded his space. They had touched everything and left his personal space feeling broken and wrong. 

His hands gripped the wheel till his knuckles whitened. He suddenly had tunnel vision and felt like nothing would ever be right again. 

Steven took the body back hard in a rough show of force. He turned off the car and sat still, breathing slowly. 

Slowly he opened the door and got out. “Hey.” He smiled up at Layla sheepishly. “Thanks for getting the car. We all appreciate it.” 

She eyed Steven and pulled her hair to the side. It was a warning move that let him know that she was very much aware of there being a problem and she wasn’t going to put up with lies or evasions. 

Steven slumped a bit. “Marc’s fine. He handled things brilliantly, actually. He might be a bit irritated for a bit, though. That took a lot out of him. Jake is… He’s taking a break. Don’t get me wrong! He’s thrilled the car is back and not totalled. Outright relieved! He’s just… this is a lot.” 

Layla looked at him for a moment then gently grabbed his hand and pulled him into a warm embrace, letting him lean into her fully. “How are you doing, Steven?” 

Steven melted into her, letting his hands clench at the fabric of her coat gently for a moment before he reluctantly let her go. “I’m pretty tired…” He admitted at last. “Taking care of Marc is one thing… I don’t know how to take care of Jake.” 

He closed the door and locked it. Normally they would pull the handle to double check it was locked but his hand just smacked into the place the handle had been. Steven let out a long sigh and leaned back against the car. He could still feel Jake’s anxiety crawling up the pipeline. 

“I mean, it makes sense…” Steven threw his hands in the air. “Jake’s a veteran too. He’s been to war. He’s faced worse battles than Marc since he’s the one that has to save our stupid butts all the time. He’s sitting in there acting like nothing phases him all the time. He has memories I don’t have or want! He has memories that Marc can’t even handle. If Marc knew about that last one he shared…” 

Steven shook his head. He felt like he had failed at something critical and it hurt to think about. “I don’t get him. I don’t know what he needs or wants. He doesn’t talk to us. I think Marc gets him better than I do. I wanted us to just stay home and not think about the car. I thought if we came out here he’d melt down and that would be it. Marc’s the one that knew Jake needed to see it as a controlled problem. I think I’m just making it worse.” 

“I thought you did a pretty good job last night.” She moved to lean against the car next to him. “Not a lot of people would have put up with that.” 

“Yeah well… That was easy. He was scared. I understand that.” Steven brushed it off. “He just needed to feel safe.” 

“Does he not still need that?” 

He looked over at her. “Everyone deserves to feel safe, Layla…” 

“What makes you feel safe?” She looked at him softly. 

Steven thought about it for a long moment. “Marc.” He blushed and ducked his head down. “He watched over me for such a long time. Even when everything was falling apart, he still went out of his way to protect me… Even when it hurt him.” 

She smiled at that. “Even when he’s being difficult?” 

“Well, yeah. Even when he’s a plonker. I know that he’s a solid rock of a plonker that would stand up and fight for me if I needed it.” Steven grinned. 

“Does he know that?” She nudged his shoulder and took his hand in hers. 

Steven squeezed her hand. He searched inside but found Marc had pulled away a bit. “I think so. I hope so. I’ve told him before. He doesn’t take compliments well.” 

“I know.” Layla sighed. “One day he might get it. We just have to keep trying.” 

He nodded then looked at her with a shy smile. “You know what makes Marc feel safe?” 

“What’s that?” 

“You.” 

It was Layla’s turn to blush and look away. “Hardly. I’m always arguing with him and setting him off. He ran away from me and pretended to be dead!” 

“Marc’s always running from the things that he needs.” Steven squeezed her hand tightly. “But if he’s feeling lost or scared I guarantee that when you pull him into your lap and stroke his hair it makes him feel like nothing could ever hurt us again.” 

It was her turn to be pulled in as he wrapped his arms around her. She buried her face against his chest for a moment, breathing in the familiar scent of Marc’s clothes. 

“What about Jake?” She looked up at him, reluctant to pull away. “What makes him feel safe?” 

“I thought it was the car.” Steven chewed his lower lip for a moment as he mulled it over. “It makes him happy. Gives him space he can control. Gives him the ability to be free…” 

He pictured the two memories again. Jake hiding in the closet and Jake hiding in the car. The car did make him feel safe… But it was just as easily taken away. The closet hadn’t been safe, yet he had still crawled in there when he felt overwhelmed. 

“Jake has a pretty small bubble.” She nodded. “I don’t think he’s used to people looking out for him. Maybe he doesn’t know what safe feels like.” 

Steven nodded. He’d do anything to make Jake feel safe again. To show Jake just how much he appreciated him. 

“Hey, Layla?” 

“Hmm?” She looked up at him, still buried in his shirt. 

“What makes you feel safe?” 

She grinned and slid her hands inside his jacket to run them up over his back, giving him a hefty squeeze. “Did you know that Marc gives the best hugs in the world?” 

She felt silly the second she’d asked. Of course Steven didn’t. It was impossible for him to ever be on the receiving end of one of those huge pick you up and spin you hugs. 

Steven gave her a silly secretive grin. “Yeah… I… I do, actually.” 

She gave him a puzzled look but he just shook his head. “I want to head back to the apartment now… But I’m really worried about leaving the car in this state.” 

What are they going to do? Steal it again? Marc muttered. Thieves don’t go after cars that have already obviously been broken into. They assume all the good shit is already gone.

“It’s got a huge bloody hole in it! That just screams easy target!” Steven argued back. 

Layla turned to look at the car then leaned down to look at the hole where the lock had been. She poked at it for a moment, jiggling the interior mechanisms. “Well, considering I had to crawl in from the passenger’s seat to get in earlier this isn’t exactly the easiest of targets. Plus it also says anything that might be inside isn’t worth taking or has already been taken.” 

“It really worries me how much you and Marc can easily think like criminals…” Steven crossed his arms. 

Layla gave him a look then grinned deviously. “You’re the only honest man in the group, Steven. Sorry to say you’re surrounded by criminals.” 

Steven grumbled about being surrounded by riffraff and let her lead him away from the car with the promise of tea and brunch. 

—

The body shivered. It hated the cold. After so many years out in the hot dry desert or humid tropics, the wet and heavy cold was hard to fight off. 

Marc woke up with a shiver and found himself standing outside in a pair of jeans and an undershirt. 

It was dark out and drizzling rain just enough to be annoying. 

Marc sniffled then sneezed as he looked around. How long had he been out in this? Who had been out in this? 

His eyes adjusted to the dim gray light of pre-dawn and he found himself staring at the car. 

“Fuck.” He groaned and patted his pockets down to find keys. He went to the trunk where he knew Jake kept some supplies. Popping it open, he was disappointed to remember that the thief had taken their emergency bag that contained a change of clothes, some cash, and toiletries. 

He did find an old towel at least. A little dirty, but at least it would do the job. Slamming the trunk, he walked around to the driver’s side then remembered the lack of handle and grumbled as he circled around to the passenger side. Getting in, he toweled off as best he could then reached over and turned on the car, blasting the heater. 

“If we get sick, Steven is going to have a fit. You know that, right? The hell were you doing out there?” 

Nightmare. Jake answered him softly. It surprised him. Jake wasn’t always so open to talking to him.

“Yeah? What about?” Marc asked, then thought better of it. “Don’t tell me. Why didn’t you get in the car? Steven says you used to sleep out here when…” He winced and shook his head as he pushed away the unwanted memory. To his relief, it faded away quickly, leaving a light fog behind. Jake didn’t feel like dealing with a flashback tonight. 

If this is going to stress you out, we don’t have to talk.

Marc held his hands in front of the heaters for a moment. “Is that why we don’t talk? You and I? Too many bad memories?” 

You and I handle things very differently.

“I don’t know about that.” Marc sat back and opened up the glove box. He was surprised to find all their papers still there. The thief really was an idiot after all. “We have similar issues. You were there for the bad shit too. Just cause I punish myself and you pretend you don’t give a shit-” 

Do you really want to do this?

“Yeah. I do.” Marc gruffed and tossed the towel into the back seat. “I used to think you didn’t care. Thought I was the broken one because I’m the one breaking down and having nightmares and you’ve got the worst of the memories and you just wave at them as they pass by! You let me think I was broken! That I was weak!” 

That was never the intent. Jake watched him closely. I just… I process differently. Compartmentalize. It doesn’t mean I don’t have nightmares. Don’t… Break down…

“So is that why you disappear all the time? So you don’t have to deal with all this? The less you’re here the less you feel it?” Marc laughed. “I tried that. It made things way worse.” 

I used to come out here to break down. Jake settled in and Marc could feel how tired they suddenly were. None of them were exactly getting any sleep lately. It was safe and private and had less chance of anyone coming in. I’m supposed to be the strong one. The grounded one. I can’t stand around crying if one of you is having a panic attack.

“I don’t think any of us are that well adjusted.” Marc slowly reclined the chair and looked up at the dark dome light. “Steven breaks down too, you know. None of us are going to hold it against you if you need a time out, Jake. Me least of all. I think I need a time out at least twice a day.” 

I’m supposed to protect you. How can I do that if I’m sitting in here dissociating or feeling sorry for myself?

“Pretty sure you could be dissociated to the void and back and if any of us were in actual danger you’d still manage to pop up and take care of things.” Marc muttered. “I’ve seen what it looks like after you ‘take care of things’.” 

Jake reached out and took their hand, moving to turn down the heat. He didn’t want to push the car too hard before he knew what it needed. 

I was pissed off. You can’t hold that one against me.  

Marc smiled. Jake didn’t like talking about his battle with Harrow. Layla had called it more like an explosion. He knew there were complicated emotions behind it all. A fear of being left behind again. Of being forgotten. Being locked up. Letting them die again. Not being able to protect them… It was what had first endeared Marc to Jake after their initial introduction and problems. 

“I know, buddy. I appreciate it.” 

They sat in silence for a moment. 

“Do you want to head back?” Marc sat up. “If Layla finds us gone she’s going to freak out. She’s had a rough week.” 

Marc could feel the hesitation from Jake. “Do you want to stay here? I can text her. Did we bring the phone?” He started to check his pockets. 

I didn’t intend to even sit in the car. I just…. Just wanted to know it was still here.  

Marc thought back to them standing outside the car in the rain. Jake unwilling to get in but also unwilling to leave it. 

“We need sleep, Jake.” Marc turned off the car and took back the keys. “I’m not one to talk, but if we don’t start sleeping, Steven is going to lock us all out.” 

I know. I just… I can’t. Not right now. The nightmares… 

Marc frowned. He was no good at this part. Where was Steven when he needed him? “Do you want to… To talk about it?” 

Not with you. 

That confirmed what Marc was worried about. “Yeah… I’m uh… I’m having issues too, buddy. You aren’t alone in that. I’m sure you already knew that, though…” He’d felt Jake sweeping away things he wasn’t supposed to have on more than one occasion in the past few days. Part of him wondered if it was his fault that Jake was having issues. “Do you want to talk to Steven?” 

No.

Marc sat still and pulled out his phone. He stared at it for a moment. “We should go back.” 

He felt the reluctance again. It was strong and filled with anxiety. “We can’t stay here forever. We have to get out at some point.” 

I can’t. 

“Are you afraid someone will take the car again?” 

No. Not really. … Maybe a little. 

“Are you mad at Layla?” 

No! Of course not! 

“What are you afraid of then?” Marc sighed. 

Jake was silent. Marc opened the phone and started to text Layla. ‘We are in the car.’ He thought about it for a moment then added ‘Do not come out.’ 

Marc sat back again and crossed his arms. “Next time, you wanna dress up a bit more? A jacket would have been nice.” 

I had a nightmare. Jake snapped. I wasn’t exactly thinking about the weather. You’re lucky we’re in pants.

They both sighed then reclined the seat again. Neither of them was willing to try sleeping and Marc couldn’t make the body move enough to get them out of the car. 

The phone buzzed and Marc glanced down at the text from Layla. ‘What do you need?’ 

Marc chuckled to himself miserably as a long list ran through his head before he typed out ‘Steven’. 

The phone started to ring. He cursed and let it ring a few times before he answered with a huff. “What?” 

That was the wrong thing to say and he winced the second it was out of his mouth. 

“What do you mean ‘What’?” She sounded tired. “I wake up and the bed is empty and the flat is empty and you tell me you’re in the car. You wouldn’t have messaged if it wasn’t a problem. Is it a problem?” 

Marc grit his teeth. “Not really. Just having the best of times out here.” 

Layla made a sound of utter irritation. “Is that code? Are you in danger or just freaking out or did you just decide that being in the car at four in the morning was the best idea in the world?” 

“I could really use Steven right now, okay?” Marc huffed. “I’d love to get back inside where it’s nice and warm and not out here. I just can’t get the stupid body to move!” 

“How am I supposed to get Steven, Marc?” She was beyond irritated now. “What’s the problem? Why can’t you get out of the car yourself?” 

“Jake’s having a time.” Marc glanced at the rearview mirror. “I want to move. I want to go inside but the body… The idea of moving is not exactly appealing to me right now.” 

“Is Jake there?” Layla sighed. “Put him on the phone.” 

“This isn’t like calling up someone’s house, Layla. I can’t just put him on the phone.” Marc snapped. 

“But you want me to get Steven for you.” She snapped back. 

They sat in irritated silence for a solid minute. 

“There’s a new documentary on today.” Layla let out a soft sigh. “About that new set of tombs they found in Saqqara. It’s mostly in Arabic but I can translate it for you if you like.”

“I don’t need you to translate.” He started to protest then felt a pull. “Keep talking.” He felt like he was walking through quicksand as Steven started to rise up in interest. It was like magic as she coaxed him out of the dark. 

“We can make fun of the bad subtitles together. After that we can cuddle a little…Talk about the new scroll they found. Biggest and most intact book of the dead found to date. I know a guy that knows a guy… I bet I could get scans sent to me if I asked.” She yawned a little and Marc felt bad. “Would you like that?” 

“Yeah?” Steven yawned loudly. “I’d love that, Layla! That won’t get anyone in trouble though, right? Getting a hold of the scans? I’d never release them to any media source, mind you. It deserves a proper scholarly review before those vultures can get their nubs on anything. Much less the British Museum. Oh, I hope they get it last. As much as I want to see it, I hope they never even get to display it for a week!” 

Layla laughed. “That’s my boy.” 

“Uh… Layla… Why am I in the car? What time is it? What…” He paused and rubbed his temples for a moment as a headache bloomed behind his eyes. 

Get out of the car.  Marc urged. 

Steven opened the door and got out. He blinked up at the light sky and the rain then locked the door and started slowly walking back towards his home. “Layla? Did we sleep at all last night?” 

“I don’t know, sweetie. Marc texted me and I may have bit his head off a little… I’m sorry, Marc. Can he still hear me?” She sounded very apologetic. 

I’m sorry too. Tell her, Steven. Marc rushed. 

“Yeah. He says he’s sorry too.” Steven reached inside and found Jake lurking just below the surface in the shadows. 

Nightmare. Jake whispered. 

“Jake had a nightmare.” Steven filled in. “I think he went out to the car and things got away from both of them.” 

“Well… It isn’t the closet.” She sighed and he could hear the exhaustion there. “Are you heading home? Do you need help?” 

“I’m okay.” Steven shivered. “Maybe a nice cup of tea when I get there would be nice. It’s chilly out. Gotta love London weather, yeah?” 

“Okay. Be careful and call if something changes.” She hung up and Steven slipped his phone into his pocket. “I don’t mind you guys going out to try to get comfortable.” Steven addressed the room inside. “I really don’t. Closet, living room, car… Do what you need to do. I’d appreciate it if maybe you tried to get hold of me first… But you got me out in the end before things really got out of hand. Good on you.” 

Marc and Jake sank down just a bit but were still listening. 

“Layla’s pretty tired.” He ran a hand through his wet hair. “That was kinda rude to call her up just to get me out. You could have done better. We also need to sleep. Like… We really need to sleep. I’m pretty dead on my feet here, guys.” 

Nightmares. Marc shrugged. Not like we aren’t trying to sleep.

“Yeah. I get that. But we gotta figure something out.” He yawned again and turned the corner. “Jake? You wanna talk?” 

No. 

“I’m this close to getting the ankle restraints back out, mate.” Steven warned. 

Try it, Steven. Jake huffed. 

Don’t test him. Marc pushed back. 

“Uh-uh. Nope. None of that.” Steven stopped them. “We aren’t fighting right now. If you don’t want to talk right now I will respect it. We are going home, getting warm, and then I am going to take a nap. If either ONE of you moves the body so much as an inch while I am napping I will freak out.” 

They were silent while Steven walked up to their apartment then opened the door. His tired eyes met Layla’s. “Hey.” He gave a smile and she handed him a hot tea. 

He clutched it tightly, soaking in the heat before taking a cautious sip. “I’m going to to warm up in the shower real quick.” 

The quick shower dragged out a bit. Jake and Marc remained close to the front, both full of apologies but Steven wouldn’t acknowledge any of it. 

He pulled on his favorite pajamas and was about to head to the bed when Layla called to him from in the living room. 

He froze. 

Chairs had been pulled around the couch to help hold up a long sheet in a massive blanket fort. 

Blankets draped across the top and hung down around the couch. A flap was being held open by a clothes pin that was carefully secured. 

Steven slowly walked around and peered into the fort. The couch was covered in pillows, blankets, and a few soft plush items that Steven had been slowly collecting from local gift shops. 

“Oh wow…” He found Layla curled up under a blanket in the corner. “Can I come in?” 

She peeked out from under the blanket at him and laughed. “It’s for you, Steven. Well… Really it’s for Jake. But I thought you might appreciate it too. Marc can come in too if he promises to leave his grumpy judgment out of it.” 

What are we? Four? Marc muttered as Steven looked the fort over. As much as he wanted to sound indignant, Steven could hear the interest hidden there. 

Steven grinned and crawled into the fort and let the flap fall closed, securing them inside. He took a moment to nestle into the blankets then gazed at Layla. “This is amazing.” 

“Obviously we can’t leave all this up all the time… But if this works maybe we can figure something out?” She looked up at the ceiling of the blanket fort. “I bet I could get fairy lights up there easily…” 

While she gazed around, coming up with plans for improvement, she felt Steven shift then a hand reached out and shyly touched hers, asking so softly to be held. 

She looked over and found Jake buried in the blankets and carefully avoiding looking at her. 

Layla softened and gently let her fingers lace around his. She smiled as he squeezed her hand back. 

“Sorry I keep fucking up.” He sighed. “I’m supposed to be better than this.” 

“You’ve had a pretty shitty week.” She stroked her fingers across his gently. “You are more than welcome to be in a bad mood and lose a little sleep.” 

“We lose any more sleep and Steven is going to freak out on us.” Jake muttered. 

“Do you want some space?” She leaned towards the door flaps slightly. “I want all three of you to be comfortable.” 

Jake’s hand tightened around hers slightly. “I’m not used to people acknowledging me. When I was me... As a kid.. It was like she knew. It was like she hated me just a little more. Maybe because I stood up to her once or twice. Or maybe because I tried to run. Or maybe because Marc learned how to take the hits and I still flinched each time.” 

“So you learned to hide?” 

He looked away. “I learned how to avoid the hits. If that meant I spent all night in a cold car or hiding in a closet or hiding on the roof then at least I wasn’t getting hit.” 

“If you need room, just tell me.” She lifted his hand and softly kissed it across the knuckles. “You deserve your own space. I know what Marc needs and I know what Steven needs. You need to tell me what you need. I want you to feel safe here with us.” 

 Jake shifted and lay his head against her shoulder. “I need patience.” 

“I can work with that.” She lightly kissed his forehead. “I need you to get some sleep.” 

“Mnh.” Jake closed his eyes. “Steven says if we move he’ll murder us.” 

“Steven is usually smart about these things.” 

“If I have a nightmare…” 

“Then you will wake up and I will still be right here. If you need space then I will give you the space you need to recover.” 

He squeezed her hand tightly as he drifted off. 

She smiled and pulled him closer. She hoped that for once he would sleep soundly. It was easy for her to be lulled to sleep by his soft snores. At least in here there was no outside world and no troubles, past or present, that could harm them. 

The only problems were the ones that lurked in their head, taking hold like a vice. 

She wrapped her arms around them and held them tightly, hoping that she could somehow protect them from the monsters that lurked unseen and waiting. 

Next Chapter HERE

[familyvideowithsteve]

façade, pt. five : the morning after - steve harrington x fem!reader

This material may not be copied, reproduced, displayed, modified. This is my work, do not steal it, do not republish it.

summary: it's the morning after, everyone's waiting for what's to come.

warnings: (reading the first series is highly recommended) /NSFW/, no use of Y/n, she/her pronouns with no physical description, violence, near death experiences, blood, weapons, insecure thoughts, angst, self doubt, trust issues, jealousy, nightmares, anxiety disorders and depression (warnings for the entire series not the individual parts)

word count: ~4.3k

façade the first series | the sequel | spotify playlist | pt. six

Opening up her eyes, blinking a few times as she woke up from a deep sleep, she immediately felt some weight on the side of her body, and when she tilted her head, she saw a hand resting on the outside of her right thigh.

Steve’s arm was sleepily laid across her thigh and she instantly felt this pressure creeping itself on her stomach as soon as she opened her eyes, turning her head and saw that his face was close to her shoulder, he was deep asleep, by the slow rhythm of his breath and his relaxed face, it brought a wave of melancholy through her body.

Strands of his hair resting against his angelic sleepy face, if things were different, completely different, she wouldn’t feel this deep sadness, she wouldn’t feel so heartbroken.

She’s about to annihilate their hope of becoming something together.

She feels so much shame, guilt, but all she can picture, from everything that happened to them in the last couple of days, seems to be Steve’s heart eyes for Nancy in the Upside Down as they were on their way to Victor Creel’s house, all she can picture is how they were in high-school, every interactions until they were together as a couple, every kiss in the corridors, at parties, and how perfect they were and looked.. and those heart eyes as they were marching along a suicide mission.

She doesn’t acknowledge what happened the night before with Steve, no, scratch that, she doesn’t take it seriously. Even his words, talking about staying with her everyday of his life, made her wince in discomfort, he couldn’t make a promise like that, not when Vecna was still alive, the gates were out, Max was very badly injured, when he looked at Nancy like that and overall they had no idea what was next.

The night before, in and of itself, was a mistake, it didn’t matter, nothing made any sense, nor did it matter with Vecna on the loose, ready to kill everyone and everything that ever existed.

Even worse, and she was ashamed to think like that but what she had told him was true, she was triggered by them, by the memories of them in the corridors, she didn’t have any feelings for Steve then but the heart eyes they gave each other in the Upside Down, accompanied by a lot of mixed feelings led her to believe that she didn’t deserve Steve, that she wasn’t worthy of him.

She will never be. She needs to rip the bandaid off and she needs to do it quickly.

Her eyes drifted from his face to the ceiling, she started to feel some nausea, the taste of bile in the back of her mouth, and gently, she pulled his arm away, and tried her hardest to not wake him up as she escaped to the main bathroom, upstairs, closed the room shut and let out the remnants of her stomach, followed by bile.

The cold tiles against her legs gave her goosebumps, she started noticing her heart’s palpitations, she could physically feel it beat fast against her ribcage; then the shortness of breath came on.

“No..” she whined, more like cried.

Without even realising she was having a panic attack. Having completely laid down on the tiles, her forehead on the floor, hoping the difference of temperature would ‘shock’ her out of it, but it didn’t work, it just painfully passed, her fingers were pressing so tightly into the palm of her hands her nails had left bloody nail marks.

Tears she had not noticed and could not control were rolling down, erratic breaths escaping her lips, her eyes screwed shut, frowned her eyebrows in discomfort, pain.

And when it was finally over, she slowly laid her back against the bathtub wall, trying to steady her her breathing, everytime she closed her eyes she was back in the Upside Down, with its thick toxic atmosphere, its monsters lurking in the darkness, silently, this terror living in her stomach, feeling so disoriented and lost.

The smallest bit of pain from her side reminded her of the violence she had to face in there, how the Upside Down’s not merciful. She forced herself to open her eyes, facing the door, closed, drying out her tears, taking a deep breath, hunched up as much as she could.

Closing her eyes one last time to force herself to take a deep breath, even if she relived her solo trip down there every time.

Breathe in. . . out. . . in. . . out. . .

Dustin woke up with a start, cold sweat falling from his forehead, out of breath.

He didn't know if he was dreaming or having nightmares and if he was, he couldn’t even remember what they were about.

He had woken up with this weight on his shoulders and his chest, this darkness lurking in a corner.

His heart was beating so fast he could feel it by resting a hand on his chest, trying to catch his breath.

It's like he was back there again.

He was cold, freezing, he hadn’t even realised that his hands were slightly shaking, but holding onto Eddie so hard his knuckles turned white.

As if he were still there again, he could smell Eddie's blood, and all he could see was blood, cherry red, and it was everywhere. It felt cold on his fingers, the tears falling on his hands felt like red-hot water.

His last breath left his lips, his eyes still open.

Glassy, the pupils were almost covered by a thin layer, clouding his honey brown irises.

Then the guilt, the shame.

Even if he remembers that she managed to bring Eddie back, and that he's alive, he can't stop but blame it on himself, how he got hurt, died for minutes, sacrificed himself to stall some more time.

He tried so hard to ground himself, trying to ease the panic, but it didn’t work the way he hoped.

By pushing the anxiety away he only welcomed it back more.

Soon, he was hyperventilating, his heart beating erratically, he could feel his thoughts spiralling, tying knots, betraying himself, silently crying to not alert his mother, who was worried enough for him.

He was alone.

Nancy and her mom had talked together about doing donations for the families in need, who had taken refuge in both the gymnasium of Hawkins High and Middle School.

When she had asked if Steve and her wanted to participate she said yes, which led her to go through some of her old clothes and toys in her parents’ garage while Steve was driving to his own house.

Eddie was better, he had tried to stand and walk, even if it was still a bit painful, he could walk around the house, he still had to stay at hers’, his status of a fugitive wouldn’t be that easy to get rid of, even when –or if– they manage to stop Vecna at whatever he’s prepared for next.

Steve immediately sensed the mood change with her, she was closed off, stuck in her thoughts a lot.

He had hoped so hard that they were on better terms, not because they had slept together, he knew better, no, it was merely a distraction for him, but because she had started to open up, was less closed off to him, and he keeps wondering over and over again if he had said, or done anything to upset her.

He has no idea.

And then, mindlessly parking next to his house as he was trying to go through the events of the night before, he remembers what she told him. The jealousy, the emptiness and the extreme uncertainty she feels… and he doesn’t know what to do, what to say to her without sounding like an asshole that doesn’t care, he doesn’t want to dismiss her feelings and her.

He sighs, leaves his care and goes inside his house, in search of clothes, food or anything that could be useful for helping the families in need while she does the same, rummaging through boxes in her garage under Eddie’s concerned eyes.

He had also noticed how she was quiet, closed off, and couldn't understand her behaviour. And as she was hunting down for old clothes, teddy bears and bedclothes, he recognized her irritation.

Weirder still, she was scavenging for things that, from what Eddie had imagined, would not be useful for donations of families in need, she now was rummaging through boxes and drawers for equipment and.. stuff?

“What are you doing?,” Eddie dared speak up, sceptical, his eyes furrowed.

She let out a breath of frustration, he thought she would stop to explain herself but in a quarter of a second she was back to going through the drawers.

Her name fell on his lips in a firm whisper, and she forfeited, turning around slowly to face him, distress evident on her face.

“Tell me what’s bugging you, and please, as you do, tell me why you’re rejecting Steve when he practically threw himself at you last night,” he gave her a puzzled look, she had hoped so badly he wouldn’t notice anything but he’s smarter than he looks, she needs to remember that.

She sighed again, stepped further so her back was against the wall, crossing her arms, “Steve and I doesn’t concern you and as for..”

“Excuse me? ‘Doesn’t concern me’”, he quoted in the air, eyes big and eyebrows “After I’ve had to play Cupid in an interdimensional version of Hell? Are you kidding?”

She completely ignored him, her tone came a little more harsher than she wanted, her eyes stuck on Eddie, “And as for what I’m doing.. It’s him. He’s opened the four gates to the Upside Down, he leaves them open but he doesn’t attack? He’s literally done what he promised he would do. It’s weird. We need to use that time to get prepared, find whatever we can to.. I don’t know… make survival backpacks? In case of extreme emergency, we need to survive an apocalypse.”

“The apocalypse?” He had this grin coming on his lips, an amused expression on his face.

“Yes, Eddie, the fucking apocalypse, Armageddon, or whatever the hell you wanna call it! He delivered us his plans on a silver platter, and it fucking happenned. He has to be preparing something, he can’t just give up. He didn’t get Max, but he did get Jason and it was perfect for him since he had turned completely psycho because of Chrissy’s death. But, he got Jason after we shot him to his near-death, then he ripped open four gates of Hell in Hawkins so he’s still around. Him, and those fucking monsters.”

Eddie’s smile fell quickly, she was right. He hadn’t really thought about it, but she was right.

The threat was very much real and very much around, he started thinking about their little trip in the Upside Down and imagining how far it all could go, he was terrified, he suddenly began to feel cold, he couldn’t be more terrified.

“I’ll help you pack some things for the donations, I obviously can’t go but when you're done, we should call a meeting, plan our next moves, or try to… You’re right, I’m sorry.”

She had scarred both him and herself, her head hung low, she wasn’t quite sure if it was desperation, frustration, sadness, fear, or all of the above but her eyes started to water.

“This isn’t going to end well, Eddie, I can feel it.. It’s..,” with a finger on her chin he made her look up softly, their eyes met, and his mind went completely blank, there’s nothing he could say to comfort because he couldn’t believe it himself.

Instead of words, he put both his arms around her shoulders and held onto her, tightly, like an unspoken promise, her hands scrunched his shirt on his back, she was also holding onto him, as she let her tears cascade down her cheeks, wetting his shirt.

They were packing Steve’s car, in front of the Wheelers’ driveway, she had managed to sneak a word to Nancy about doing a group meeting after they went to the gymnasium.

With the help of her mother, Nancy was putting away more stuff so that they could donate it, both Dustin and her were quiet, long gone in their thoughts as they were putting away the boxes in Steve's trunk, who was busy getting the boxes from Nancy, Robin next to them.

Steve had also noticed how Dustin was quieter than usual too, but he didn’t say anything, and preferred to wait until they would all meet in her house to talk about what they would do to sneak a word to Dustin, he wasn’t quiet, he was a very loud and very sarcastic kid who had lost all of that, it worried him.

Not knowing what to do or say to both her and Dustin frustrated him, he felt useless, he now stood next to the both of them, Nancy catching up with him when they heard an unfamiliar vehicle approaching.

A van? A pizza van? What?

Steve turned around fully, frowning, his shoulder involuntarily brushing on her’s, “What the-” he let out as the van parked right in front of the Wheelers’ driveway, she briefly looked at him then turned to the van.

To their surprises, Jonathan, his brother and Nancy's exited the van accompanied by a girl with shaved head and a very long haired one left the van, Dustin gasped and started to hobble towards his friends, Nancy put her box in Robin’s arms without any warning and stepped toward Jonathan. Ran, actually.

The two embraced hurriedly, a rapid kiss on the lips as they held onto each other tightly, whispering things to one another, Steve looked away, trying to not be intrusive, his eyes fell on the one he wished he could be this close with, but she had stopped looking at them. Her head hung low.

She felt his eyes on her, his shoulder was further into her, she hesitated but curiosity –and longing– got the best of her, and she looked up. Some of his worry went away when she didn’t look away, but instead kept their eye contact.

Feeling braver, Steve gently offered her his hand, she briefly looked at the motion, seemed to think it through, and suddenly he awaited her rejection.. But it never came, instead she laced their fingers together, tightly, her head looking up at him again.

A weight had somehow been lifted off his shoulders, he felt relieved, maybe there was something he could save, maybe it wasn’t all over, he still held hope for them.

The parking lot was full, SUVs from the army were everywhere, along with firemen and paramedics, they had heard that Hawkins was receiving help from the neighbourhood states, many people were missing, some had lost their home and had nowhere to go.

There was something deeply unsettling about stepping in the gym, they all felt it differently, but they were on the same wavelength about one thing: they felt responsible for the people hurt, who had lost everything and they were the only ones to know how and why it happened the way it happened.

It wasn't just an earthquake, and they would realise that way too quickly, and it would be so deadly.

Steve had encouraged them to go on, as both Dustin and her had stopped by the doorways (left often to facilitate passage), they gave away the boxes, looking at one another they offered if they could be of any help.

Each had a spot in a different corner, Steve was sorting and giving clothes to the people in need, Dustin was offering water, Robin was making PB&Js’, and she was outside, with other volunteers, firemen and paramedics sorting out medical equipment donations that came from the neighbouring states.

She was gathering some unnamed boxes from a truck when she caught a glimpse of Eddie’s uncle, Wayne, stepping in the gym, she stopped in her tracks, not knowing what to say or do, she obviously couldn’t tell him the truth, nor confirm that he was missing, she wouldn’t be able to lie to him, but he also couldn’t just not know where his nephew was.

He would probably recognize her from the many nights she spent crashing at his trailer, but what exactly could she say to him. She was livid, rightfully so, she handed her box to another volunteer nearby and followed him inside.

He was pinning Eddie’s missing poster –or replacing it as people had drawn horns on his head– on a board that was already so full, unconsciously, her hands started to fidget, her fingers picking on the skin around her nails, while her gaze was on Wayne.

Dustin’s eyes fell on her as he was handing water, he followed her look and saw Wayne, he understood immediately her dilemma, he put down the platter and started hobbling towards her.. when they were all surprised with a thunderstorm.

Everyone had stopped what they were doing, an unsettling silence taking place as a second thunderstorm shot through the sky.

Everyone rushed towards the windows or outside, where they all could see some black smoke or cloud, they weren't sure, the atmosphere started to thicken already but they couldn't feel it yet.

The dark clouds –they appeared thicker than plain smoke– carried more red thunderstorms, the worse was the snow size particles –the same one from the Upside Down– falling from the dark clouds, that's when they knew it was already happening.

She rushed inside, the only one to move through the crowd outside observing the scene, she looked for and met Steve, both with a very serious face as they looked for the others and hurried back to her house.

Back at her house they waited for the others to be back, Dustin sat on the couch, next to her, his good leg wouldn't stop moving up and down in apprehension.

Rovin was the one pacing up and down, under the very stressed pair of eyes belonging to her and Steve, Eddie sat in the stairs watching the front door.

Apprehension, stress and fear radiated from all of them. They were experiencing similar thoughts, it was spiralling, their minds on neverending wheels.

Stress and anxiety crippling in, watching Robin pace up and down in her living room was like torture, her brain was playing the events from before and the what ifs. So many what ifs.

Her right leg had also started going up and down, her hands fidgeting involuntarily, from where she sat she could see the garage door open, where she had put some essentials in boxes with Eddie.

After staring at that door for what felt like eternity she suddenly stood up and went straight to the laundry room where she was scavenging for backpacks, loudly, under Steve's confused eyes.

He dared asking her what she was doing –very fair question– to which she screamed she wouldn't do this again.

Another thunderstorm and her body went frigid, she turned around, backpacks under her arms.

"We need to pack essentials–backpacks!," Steve had opened his mouth but she stopped him right there, "Listen, I want to be wrong so badly, but those dark clouds, the thunderstorms, the fucking spores coming from the sky, all of this comes from the Upside Down, which is fucking starting to spread."

She stopped to catch her breath, her eyes softened, looking right at Steve, he sensed what she meant.

"I get you. I do. But we need to wait for the others, wait for them to–"

"What if they're not coming? What if we need to move quickly? I know I'm new at.. all of this, but Steve, I have a really bad feeling about this," she ended up whispering the last bit, her concern evident on her face and in her voice.

It was her eyes, they told him something else, but he couldn't put a finger on what exactly her eyes were asking of him. He felt her concern, but what else was there?

"What if they are coming? Maybe it hasn't travelled to that part of the forest.. what I mean is.. we should wait for Nance," her name fell on his lips like a resolution, like it was a finality.

Like he took the decision for them.

It didn't sit right with her.

"So what, we're supposed to wait for them– for Nancy to make our plans when absolutely anything could happen? What if the gates opened further and waves of Demogorgons just invaded Hawkins? Are we still waiting for Nancy then?!"

Eddie stepped from the stairs and was stepping towards the living room where a corridor led to the laundry room.

His eyes met Dustin's, at this point she was talking very loudly, all of them could hear their argument.

"Are we also waiting for Nancy to save us when those bats will rummage through Hawkins? Biting, eating, strangling everyone to their imminent deaths?," she paused, stepping closer to Steve, feeling rageful by the minute, completely lashing out on him.

"Or let's wait for that gigantic shadow monster to take control of everyone and they've all turned into an apocalyptic zombie movie? Let's wait when there's nothing we can do!"

"Let's wait for Nancy to save us, our Lord and saviour! We wouldn't be here without her would we? You know what, you're right, we're going to patiently wait for her and hope for the best!"

She aggressively pushed Steve out of her way, storming out into her room, pacing up and down as she was unable to contain her anger.

She tried sitting on her bed but she couldn't stay put.

Downstairs, Steve was shocked, taken aback, lashing out like that wasn't like her. He was confused.

His hand nervously travelled through his hair, a trembling breath escaping his lips.

His feet slowly moved to the living room, where three pairs of eyes were expecting him, all questioning what had happened.

He was about to open his mouth but he stopped himself, what would he say? what would he tell them that could, potentially, explain what happened?

Nothing, because he didn't know.

He didn't understand what just happened.

He was about to dismiss what happened when they heard the sound of glass breaking upstairs, his brain moved faster than his muscles, he stopped himself in his tracks, she probably didn't want to see him right now if she was so mad at him.

He sent a knowing look at Eddie, who silently agreed to go upstairs, on his way up, a couple steps in they felt a slight movement in the house, an earthquake.

It lasted a couple minutes, small enough to feel it, to make the furniture vibrate but nothing much.

They all stopped, waiting for something else, something that never came, so he stepped further to her bedroom, while Robin had ran to the closest windows that showed the street.

Nothing had changed, there were more dark clouds, and the same amount of thunderstorms, same red colour, nothing had really changed and it had already gotten dark outside.

There were no evident signs that something was happening. Yet.

Eddie opened the door and found her sitting on her bed, a cloth around her hand, dotted in red colour.

He looked around but found no evidence of broken glass, until he approached the bathroom, and found her broken mirrors, shards of it everywhere in the sink.

He turned around and finally met her gaze, a sigh left his lips as he sat next to her, his hands wrapped around her palm, and tried to uncover the cloth to see how bad it was.

The cuts were still bleeding, he couldn't see much, but he covered it back and sighed, his eyes met hers' once again.

There's nothing he could say that would make her feel better, so he wrapped his arm around her shoulders, brought her closer to him, his lips ghosting over her hairline.

"We'll get through this," he finally whispered, the top of his head resting against her's, his hand gently caressing her arm.

"We have to get through this. I promise I will do anything to protect us, I brought you back, I'm not wasting my efforts."

He trusted her, he knew he could trust with his life, she had already proven that, he didn't know if he could promise it back, he would try though.

When the small earthquake shook Hawkins and everyone waited anxiously to see if anything would happen.. it should have been their signal to leave, plan something, seek shelter or even better leave Hawkins altogether.

The portals had opened further, vines were the first thing that went through, their roots were already running deep in the soil and the asphalt, travelling further into the city, the sun setting earlier in the day was an omen for them, they were hiding in the obscurity of the night setting.

Oftentimes revealed by the red thunderstorms, went unnoticed as no one dared to leave their houses.

Another earthquake shook Hawkins then, much more intense than the first one when the four gates opened, the ground was completely ripped apart, more houses destroyed, demolished, most of the city was in shambles.

Roads were destroyed, markets, pharmacies and shops were barely able to handle the shock. The hospital.. the south and east wings were in ruins, on fire, the north and west wings.. were still holding on but not for very much longer.

There were more fires spreading, more red thunderstorms, more spores. More blood and bodies already starting to pile up.

A swarm of demobats entered first, silent as they were lurking in the darkness, small shrieks echoing in the sky were the evidence of their presence.

Then, the first of many Demogorgon passed through, letting out a strident shriek in the night.

It had started.

-> pt. six

tags (of the prequel and/or people who liked the masterlist): please don't hesitate to ask me to tag you but do it in my inbox @freezaz123 @ihavebecomesomething @aphetropy @sigh-mon-says @madaboutjoe @sheerfreesia007 @mystic-writings @333starbride @seatnights @gabby123rocks @mmmcunt @ourprisma @hauntors

(mutuals that might be interested): @strangerquinns @stiles-o-dylan24 @stevharrington (if you'd like to be tagged let me know!)

[homestuck-fanauthor-coalition]

Red 40

Chapter 2: Bloody Mary

"Fine, you're right." Karkat steps out, making sure to lock the car before they get too far. "I don't know why I'm being weird about this." He knows exactly why, just doesn't want to admit it even to himself. He holds the door open for Dave, and once they're in the building he can feel it. There's a different sort of haze in the air, and every eye in the room seems to be on them. No- not them. Just Dave. Karkat finds himself also glancing at the man beside him, holding his gaze on Dave for about five seconds before he manages to look straight ahead instead.

@ambrosianlullaby and @davekatgnocchi bring us another chapter of their monsterstuck fangfic! If you need a reminder of why you should take a bite, check out the summary below!

Red 40 (18923 words) by DavekatGnocchi, ambrosianLullaby Chapters: 2/? Fandom: Homestuck Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas, Minor Dave Strider/Jade Harley - Relationship, Rose Lalonde/Kanaya Maryam, Jake English/Dirk Strider Characters: Dave Strider, Karkat Vantas, Kanaya Maryam, Rose Lalonde, Dirk Strider, Terezi Pyrope, Gamzee Makara, Aranea Serket, Dave's Bro | Beta Dirk Strider, Calliope (Homestuck), Caliborn (Homestuck), Jade Harley, John Egbert, Jake English, Jane Crocker Additional Tags: Dirk Strider and Dave's Bro Aren't the Same Person, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Humanstuck, Blood, Violence, Altered Mental States, Dubious Consent, Sexual Harassment, Past Sexual Harassment, Body Horror, Gore, PTSD episodes, Panic Attacks, Possessiveness, Explicit Sexual Content, Alcohol, Implied/Referenced Torture, Past Torture, Dave Strider Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Alternate Universe - Monster Hunters, Vampires, Fae & Fairies, Shapeshifting, Magic, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Trans Dave Strider, Trans Male Character, Suggestive Themes, Awkward Flirting, Drunken Flirting, Drunk Sex, Roleplay Logs, Fluff and Angst, Eventual Smut, The Homoerotic Implications of Vampire Bites, bigkat Summary: Dave Strider is twenty-three years old, and for the past three years he has finally gotten to live a normal life; a retired monster hunter living in a town near the Rainbow Falls in New York. Though, it’s been a month since he’s even heard from his new best friend, and his old instincts tell him that, that can’t mean anything good.

[burningflamescurse]

“Whispers of the Past.” [2]

Dean Winchester x Fem!OC

Series Summary: A Case gone wrong years ago for Evelyn and her old hunting team has Haunted her for years, the horrors of that fateful day still engrained into her mind; Meeting the Winchesters was just some slither of hope for Evelyn, distracting her from her own bloody Past. That is, Until one day her old mentor's Partner calls her up and mentions that someone is killing off the rest of the members from Evelyn's old Hunting Team, she feels the memories pooling back into her mind and she is forced to recount everything that she just tried so hard to forget to the two people she trusts the most.

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Castiel, OC's.

Chapter Summary: After Madi Drops the Bombshell that Chris is Miraculously Still alive after falling off a 13 Foot Cliff Drop, and that he is Killing off the Rest of their old Hunting team, Evelyn Tries to Sneak away from the boys to take care of the Situation before they Find out her big Secret.

CW//TW: mentions of Murder, mentions of Insanity, mentions of mental disorders, mentions of Child abuse, Past Child abuse, Past Mentions of Grooming, Kidnapping, torture, Murder, mentions of Ghosts and a Vampire Nest, panic attacks, Nightmares, flashbacks, Hallucinations, Obvious relationship between Dean and my OC, concussion, head wound, visions, Convulsions, Evelyn murders someone, mentor OC goes insane, drugging, the Police think Evelyn murdered some of her teammates, Dean Defends Evelyn, Evelyn and Sam are best friends.

A/N: Credit for the Header goes to @valeska-25

“He’s Alive?”, Evelyn’s Voice echoed through the phone in disbelief, “Madi, How? he fell off a Thirteen Foot drop.” her voice was Bordering Concern and Fear, no one Human could Survive all of those Jagged Rocks on the way Down; Madi let out a Shaky Sigh, “It’s weird, when I saw him he had no wounds whatsoever.”

“He must have missed all those Jagged Rocks on the way down and Hit the water, Swam to the Surface.” Madi said; now that was Pure Luck with how Insane and Scared Chris was at the time of that Incident. “He Must still have the after Effects of that Demon within him, Otherwise he wouldn’t have Gone after the old Team.” Evelyn Voiced her thoughts on the situation, She Received an agreeable him on the other end of the Phone.

“I agree with you Lyn, I’ve Collected the Remaining Members of the Hunting team, right now There’s only eight of us left; We’re hiding down at the Safehouse.” Madi Explained, Evelyn Remembered that Old Safehouse, Chris had Introduced it to her when he first took her in and was Training her. “That’s good, you all need to Steer Clear of that Hunting Ground we were on during the Incident, he’ll probably Search there first.” Evelyn Remarked.

There was a Stagnant Pause for a Minute.

“Lyn, I’m concerned about you though.” Madi said, her soft tone almost made Evelyn wanna cave and tell Her exactly where she was; but that would only risk her life and the Winchester Brothers’ lives. “Don’t worry about me.” she spoke quickly and ended the call before Madi could Protest.

Evelyn Went over to her desk, Pulling Out an Old Map of the Hunting Grounds from that Night. She looked at the area’s She had Circled in Previous Research of the area, She was going to have to sneak out without alarming Both Sam and Dean, She Didn’t need them Involved in her Shady and bloody past.

So Evelyn Started packing a Bag, Filling it with her Weapons and the Most Important things before Grabbing her heavy Jacket because in that area of Kansas it was specifically cold and snowing, she Quickly Left a Written note to Dean, Apologizing for what she had to do now; and then she Unlocked the latches of her window and Hopped out.

And then She Just Started Running.

←←→→

Dean and Sam found her note an Hour after she Snuck out, Reading the Contents of it made Dean’s Heart Clench Painfully for Evelyn.

‘Hey boys, I know you must be super confused Reading this, but I trust that you’ll trust me to do this on my own; I have to do this, There are things about my past that I haven’t told you, Dark and Bloody things. Now I know this probably won’t keep you guys away, because both of you are Stubborn as hell; but If you do follow me, Just know that I am sorry for everything that you’re about to find out.’

Of course as Expected, Dean Proposed the Idea to Track her down and Follow her wherever she was going off in Such a hurry; Even though Sam was Hesitant because it sounded like She wanted to do this alone, he agreed because She also might be heading into Danger.

So they Both Started Searching Evelyn’s Room, Sifting through all of Her Obviously Personal Belongings.

Finally Dean found the map that you had Haphazardly tried to hide in your Clothes Drawer, he Pulled it out looking at the spots you had Circled. “Hey Sam, Over here. I found something.” He called Sam over.

She were heading for your Old Hunting Grounds, Which she had mentioned in some Drunken Stories completely by accident.

Sam Noticed her Unlatched Window, “And it looks like she’s Going there by foot.” Sam Noted.

“Well let’s Jump in baby, and get over there now.” Dean said, he wanted to get to Evelyn Fast before anyone bad did.

←←→→

Evelyn had made it Halfway by the Evening, the sun Just setting, she was sure both Dean and Sam had already Started on the way to these old Hunting Grounds with the Impala.

She Internally Snorted at how stubborn the Two were, always Causing Trouble.

Evelyn Settled Down at a couple of Trees to stop for the night, if she kept going like this she’d only Burn herself straight to Exhaustion and never reach the hunting Grounds, fortunately she found it pretty easy to fall asleep.

Already tired from the Day’s Events, Her Eyes slipped closed and She fell into a Deep Slumber using her bag as a pillow.

“Now Hold it Steady, Lyn. Don’t mind the Kickback, I’ll catch you kid.” Chris’ Voice Flowed through the cold air, a younger Version Of Evelyn Pointing a Gun at a Target Painted onto a Tree, he was currently teaching her how to fire off a Gun correctly and have Perfect aim. Evelyn was Nervous, but she Slowed her Breathing closing her eyes for a Solid Minute, Calming her racing Heart.

Bang!

Evelyn had Shot a Bullet from the Gun so Smoothly, Seeming so easy to do, even Chris was Impressed with her Output. “Damn Kid, I knew you had Potential in you. You’re a Damn good Shot.” Chris Praised her, Evelyn practically beamed at the Praise not even noticing Madi right behind her who had a Proud Smile Plastered on her face, seeing Her as the child she never had the chance of having.

Once again though, the Seemingly Perfect and happy Memory was Changing again, the sky Turned into a Blood Red once more as Chris’ Eyes Turned Black like a Demon’s eyes; his Voice was Strangled And Gravely, a wound was open in his neck, in the shape of a bite wound from a Demon; his Vocal cords torn and Ripped half way out of his Throat. “You’ll never be able to save him, Evelyn. He Belongs among us now, your Precious Mentor is a Demon.” the Voice hissed.

“And it’s all your fault.” the Voice said once more before it let out a Horrible snarl, Lunging at Evelyn Just about to bite into her—

Suddenly Evelyn Launched awake again, Sweat rolling down her face. Another Nightmare, once that changed her happy Memories again; Evelyn looked up realizing it was Early in the morning, it was time for her to get to walking again; She didn’t know if the boys were Close to her yet.

Evelyn Gathered her things and kept on Marching Straight through the cold Ground, her boots Crunching as She did so, the smell of the old Hunting Grounds nearby always Brought back Simpler times back to her, when Chris was just her Friendly Mentor, before Everything went down.

And She didn’t just mean when the Demon Screwed with his head, she had always Sensed something a little off with Chris, Always being Close to her, having his wife teach Hailey Instead Of Teaching her Himself, Chris almost demanded to be close to Evelyn every second of Every Day; Had Evelyn Just Listened to Lucas’ Warnings she would of Realized that Chris had Been Grooming her the Entire time.

It made her sick to her stomach to remember that every sweet praise that left his lips was just to get her closer to him, he couldn’t go one day without being close to Evelyn, or Touching her.

Evelyn shook her head, Ridding herself of that Horrid Memory that was stuck in her brain; she Tried to focus on something else but Her brain Couldn’t help but go into another Flashback.

“You’re so Pretty Lyn, you know that?” Chris had said one day while coming into her Private room, while she was trying to sleep; Evelyn didn’t know what to think, she was still a Teenager who was Vulnerable at this moment. “So much prettier than my wife.” he added, Sitting on the edge of her bed.

Evelyn was Pulling the Covers closer to her chin, Chris was acting weird, he wasn’t usually like this. Chris Chuckled, Using his hands to Snatch the Blanket Right from her body Revealing her in a nightgown; Evelyn Swore she heard Chris Growl right then.

“Do you always have to be so Tempting, Darlin’?” What was he Talking about, when Had she ever Been Tempting anyone; how was a Teenager Tempting him with anything at all, Chris shouldn’t even be Tempted by this at all. “God, I bet you want it too, Don’t ya?” he asked, his Hand Reaching To Touch Evelyn’s Upper Thigh before Madi Busted through the Door.

“Chris, What the hell are you doing!” She screeched, Mortified at what she was seeing, Her Stomach Curling In disgust at the Sight, “Get your Disgusting hands off of that Girl!” she yelled, Dragging him off by his hair, roughly letting go causing Chris to Bash his head against the wall. Madi gave Evelyn a soft, caring look as she covered her back up.

The only Thing Evelyn saw through teary eyes was Madi Dragging her Husband by his hair.

Once again Evelyn Shook the memory again, She doubted Chris Ever Loved her like a Daughter; he only Felt Sexual Things for Her.

Evelyn’s Thoughts were Interrupted When She heard Two Pairs of Footsteps barreling Right towards her, before she could turn around someone Wrapped their arms around her and Tackled her to the Ground, she was Twisted around to See it was Dean Straddling her.

“Can’t Outrun us, Sweetheart.” Dean Said, with a Smirk Plastered on his Face, Meanwhile Sam was Rolling his eyes at Dean’s Obviously Childish behavior.

Evelyn Shoved Dean Off of her before Standing up, “You Guys Can’t be here, you’re gonna Put everyone in danger!” she hissed at them, Swatting Dean’s Hands away from her face.

Before Dean Or Sam Could ask her Who she was Talking about, a familiar female Voice was Heard a few feet in front of them.

“Lyn, are these those Winchester Boys you were talking about?” they all turned to see it was Madi Who was talking, Still alive and well.

Evelyn Glanced back to see Dean and Sam looking at her with Arched Eyebrows, as She Awkwardly chuckled.

She had a lot of Explaining to do.

«»

Madi Gratefully led them to the Safehouse, if the Winchester Brothers were Out here now in their Old Hunting Grounds, then it was safe to say Chris was going to make them a Target as well, Sam and Dean Didn’t argue with Madi seeing as it would be no use since Madi was a mother Hen.

Stepping into the Old Abandoned Cabin, Evelyn saw the rest of her old Hunting Team, Gathered together amongst a few Children as well, they were cuddled up to a Couple of the Adults who were keeping them cozy and warm.

The first one to remember Evelyn was a young Adult named Lana, Who immediately charged at Evelyn, Hugging her tight. “Lyn! You came back!” She Screeched With Happiness; Evelyn Returned the Hug, rubbing Lana’s back as she did.

“Yeah I did, I’m making sure You’re all safe.” She said, Lana was the Newest member of their old Hunting Group, after the incident Madi wanted to keep the team going, possibly train younger members who wanted to be Hunters without the Trauma that Chris would always Project onto his ‘Students.’ Madi would Always send letters from Lana.

“Who are they?” Lana asked, motioning towards Dean and Sam who were just standing Awkwardly at the Cabin Door, Dean had a Look of Slight Betrayal on his face while Sam had that Same Puppy Dog look in his eyes staring at the young Hunters and Children all gathered around the fire. Evelyn gave Lana a smile, Perhaps it was time for her family to meet the two most Important Guys in her life.

“Well the Big tall Guy is Sam Winchester, He’s My best friend; I would Trust him with my life if I had to.” She Responded, Smiling back at Sam before moving on to Introduce Dean. “And this is Dean, my best friend and my Absolutely lovable Boyfriend; I would also Trust him with my life.”

“Wow, you have a boyfriend now? Shocker.” Someone else, with a Cold Mannered Voice said from the corner of the room in the Darkness; a Woman with Straight black hair tied up in a Ponytail and Snake Green eyes.

Evelyn Immediately Recognized her, one of her Rivals; and She Recognized her on a Personal level. The woman’s name was Blaire Thompson, same Age as Evelyn.

Chris’ Niece.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Who Let Us Have A Group Chat?

Pairings: None

Word Count: 1,208 Words

Summary: Moon creates the unholy abomination of a family group chat.

Warnings: Panic Disorder (mentioned only), Sick Character, Fever Delirium, Vomit (mentioned), Death (mentioned only), let me know if I should add anything else.

Chapter 1: Moon, What Have You Done?

12:45am Moon has created a chat Moon has added 6 people to the chat Moon has renamed the chat Who Took My Hat?

Eclipse: It was Blood Moon.

Lunar: Why is he here?

Moon: Because I want my hat back and he’s a likely candidate.

Kill Code: Why am I awoken at midnight?

Moon: Hat.

Sun: He said it was Blood Moon

Harvest Moon: Not it. Other one.

Moon: Blood Moon, give me back my hat!

Eclipse: Bee please just give it back.

Lunar: How dare you give him that nickname!? Bees are wonderful! Keep their name out of your mouth!

Eclipse: …

Eclipse: Alright, I’m not wanted.

Eclipse has left Who Took My Hat? Moon has added Eclipse to Who Took My Hat?

Moon: Where are they, rust bucket?

Eclipse has left Who Took My Hat? Moon has added Eclipse to Who Took My Hat?

Moon: Tell me dammit!

Eclipse has left Who Took My Hat? Moon has added Eclipse to Who Took My Hat?

Eclipse: He's in the bunker, obviously. I hear him cackling from the other room. How else would I know he has it? Just come get your hat!

Blood Moon: You saw no such thing, you little rat!

Harvest Moon: We both saw it, Bloody.

Blood Moon: Betrayers!

Eclipse has left Who Took My Hat? Moon has added Eclipse to Who Took My Hat?

Moon: You stay put.

Eclipse: You’re taking from time I have to work, let me leave.

Moon: No.

Eclipse: I’m muting this.

Moon: Fine.

Kill Code: I'm going back to sleep.

Lunar: You better. Out!

Kill Code: Jesus.

Lunar: You've never known Jesus a day in your life, shut up.

Moon: You're just brutal tonight, huh?

Lunar: Like your bottled panic disorder.

Moon: cryingcatthumbsup.jpg

Sun: Please calm down, Lunar

Lunar: Take care of yourself, Sun.

Sun: I feel attacked

Lunar: Good.

Sun: ow

Harvest Moon: moon'sferal.vid

[video transcription]

Moon: Where's my hat!?

Eclipse: Please don't yell, I have a migraine.

Moon: Blood Moon!

Harvest Moon: Over here.

Eclipse: Please just be quiet, I feel like hell.

[Moon jumps on Blood Moon and wrestles his hat away from Blood Moon and laughs in victory while Eclipse groans in the background in pain]

[transcription end]

Lunar: Good, kick him. Maybe it'll help your chronic panic attacks.

Moon: You are just feral tonight, Lunar, chill.

Lunar: There is no chill. Only feral. You woke me up, not you get to deal with the consequences.

Blood Moon: Please don't kick me.

Moon: We're literally still in the same room. You could've just said that.

Lunar: He doesn't have the braincells to figure that out.

Blood Moon: That hurt, baby brother.

Lunar: Good. Hurt.

Kill Code: Now that all three of my kids are crying for one reason or another, now would be a very good time to go to sleep.

Kill Code is now offline

Sun: I think we should all take that as a que to sleep.

Lunar: Like you're even going to make it to bed. You're still cleaning barrels.

Sun: Let me imagine okay??

Lunar: Mmm, not even good grammar. I have better grammar and I never even went to school.

Sun: None of us went to school, Lunar and I'm tired

Moon: It's embedded in our heads, Lunar. We only recommended school for you because you don't talk to many other people.

Lunar: Who else do I need to harass with my existence?

Moon: Nevermind about school.

Lunar is offline

Moon: And he's asleep. That means everyone goes to sleep so we don't wake him up again.

12:45pm Who Took My Hat?

Kill Code: Does anyone know how to fix the flu in a robot?

Lunar: Depends which child you're asking for.

Sun: Agreed.

Kill Code: Eclipse. Turns out his migraine was the start of the flu. I don't even know how he got it, he never leaves his lab.

Lunar: I don't have any advice.

Harvest Moon: Please, none of us know what to do.

Blood Moon: He's literally not breathing right!

Sun: Alright, proof and I'll help.

Kill Code: proof.vid

[video transcription]

Kill Code: Hey, don't go back to sleep yet. Eclipse, come on. Wake up, son, don't you dare go to sleep on me right now.

[Eclipse groans and looks blearily at KC, eyes glazed and heaving air, whimpering and beginning to steam from overheating]

Kill Code: I know, I'm keeping you awake, just breathe. I'm right here, son. It's okay.

Eclipse: Daddy, I'm cold.

Kill Code: You're burning up, you can't be cold. Why is he cold? Eclipse, stay awake. I'm trying to get help.

Eclipse: I'm tired.

Kill Code: I know, I'm sorry, but you can't sleep right now.

Eclipse: I'm gonna throw up.

Kill Code: Over the bucket!

[the camera rattles as KC and the twins help Eclipse lean over the side of the bed to throw up into a bucket next to his bed]

Blood Moon: He's dying!

Harvest Moon: He's sick, not dying, right!? Dad, he can't be dying!

Kill Code: He's not dying. Eclipse, do not go to sleep.

[Eclipse whines and curls up to Blood Moon's side and shivers]

[end transcription]

Sun: Okay, ice packs on his joints and head. Something's wrong with his artificial lungs and he can't breathe all the way. You need to manually break the fever or he'll burn through his circuit boards.

Sun: As for the vomiting, you can't really stop it, just make him eat something light and keep him awake until the fever breaks. He's cold because of the fever being so high.

Kill Code: Thank you. I'll repay you. Anything. Just name a price, any price.

Sun: Stop tormenting my side of the family.

Kill Code: Of course. Anything.

Lunar: Wow, it was really that easy. Mortal threats to his 'kids' really make him agree to never bother us again.

Sun: 'Torment' not 'bother'. More like don't harass us than don't bother us since his existence bothers us.

Lunar: You're correct and I hate it.

1:27pm Who Took My Hat?

Sun: Is he doing any better @Kill Code

Kill Code: The fever just broke, Harvest Moon is out retrieving food for him and we've kept him responding thus far. My eldest is still quite out of it.

Sun: As expected. The robot flu hits solar models harder. Be happy you're a lunar model.

Lunar: Don't remind me that me and him are technically related.

Sun: Still brutal, I see.

Lunar: I exist brutal as a defense mechanism. The other option is playing all cute and sweet and looking adorable and you can blame our brother for waking me up for this brutality. Plus I hate him.

Sun: Yeah, okay.

Kill Code: Thank you again.

Sun: As long as you aren't pulling shit, then we'll help you. We're still family technically. Family helps each other out.

4:12pm Who Took My Hat?

Moon: Well, I slept through all the drama.

Kill Code: Yes, I know. I had to ask for help from your brothers for a reason.

Moon: Cry about it. I was tired.

Kill Code: You missed the opportunity to see my son you hate so much crying.

Moon: YOU COULD'VE WOKEN ME UP!

Kill Code: You suck.

Moon: So do you.

[romanarose]

Steven with a Reader with OCD

Steven Grant x GN!Reader with OCD

You are struggling with obsessive thoughts late at night, and worry how Steven will react.

Warnings: OCD, compulsions, bleeding, aggressive nail clipping ig?

AN: I've been doing a lot better with my OCD lately, I always do better when I feel in control of my life, and I'm always more in control when Im in a stable living environment. Living with my parents was never stable, living with my last roommate was not either, but living in this dorm has been such a sanctuary. Still, there are some things I struggle with, compulsions that have been a part of my life for so long, I don't know if there's a way to go back, I don't remember a time when I had normal nails. Just wanted to write this for a little comfort.

********************

When Steven woke up and saw you weren't in the bed, he assumed you were in the bathroom, but when you didn't come back to him, Steven was worried so he came outside the bedroom for you. Steven saw you sitting on the couch, legs crossed, the finger tape you had been trying all unraveled on the coffee table.

You saw him, immediately closing your eyes in defeat before going back to work, trying to make your nails 'right' "Sorry" You mumble.

"What are you sorry for?" Steven asked, sincerely.

You tried to stop from crying, angry at yourself. "For failing. I really wanted to break this, but... laying in bed I just could feel everything, and it was wrong, and it was bad and-" You wipe your eyes with your sleeve, and angle the nail clipper far in, proceeding to take off most of the nail on your toe, not that there was much.

Steven saw your low cut, abused nails and fingers, the sensitive skin that wanted to be covered and protected by callouses but now open to infection, the little bits of blood on your feet.

"It's okay, my darling, I know you're trying"

"Not hard enough, apparently"

"Hey" Steven tilted your chin up to him. "You've done really, really, well with others things, love. This is just something that's been around a long time, it's hard to break"

You pull away from him, embarrassed, but unable to stop. "I wouldn't do this if I didn't feel like I had too."

"Yeah, it doesn't seem like something you'd do for fun" Steven offered sympathetically, earning a small smile. Steven was familiar with strange quirks. Steven's bedtime routine before he met Marc was extensive, and Marc was intense about cleaning, so when you began dating, he didn't think too much of your strange eating habits. As things progressed, and you met and fell in love with Jake and Marc, you opened up about your obsessive-compulsive disorder, Steven tried his best to support you, reading all the books and articles possible, and holding your hand when there was nothing to be done.

"It's fucking humiliating" but you don't stop, you can't stop, you're trying so hard to get a nail that was in the skin, digging in at the calloused layers of your body trying to protect you. "Ow!" You missed your goal, clipping the skin and causing blood.

Within a flash, Steven stole the clippers from your hands.

"Steven!" You shout in a panic, never mind it's 3 AM

He stands up, trying to play keep-away but he's not tall enough for that. "You just cut yourself open!"

"Give it to me!" You're in a panic, you need to take care of it, need to make it right even though you know it will never be right.

"I draw the line at you hurting yourself."

"Fuck you." You storm into the kitchen, dropping blood on the carpet as you put on your slides and grab your keys.

"Bloody hell" He sighs exasperated, following you. "Where are you going!"

"To the fucking store to get another fucking nail clipper!"

"You're not driving when you're this upset."

"You don't get to tell me what to do" You clutch the keys to your chest and press your body against the door as he fights to take the keys back, but the pressure of it was all too much. Steven was mad at you, he thought you were weird, and your nails still weren't right and it was bad and things were bad and you had to fix it but he won't let you fix it and can't he see you needed to fix it?

When Steven heard you crying, he stopped, backing away immediately and giving you the clippers. His heart hurting for you, he watched as you, still crying, sink to the floor and start going back to work at your poor toes so fast, like it was the most important thing in the world. "I can't stop" You say through tears.

Steven sighed. "I know." He kissed the top of your head before stepping away. "Do what you need to do, then come to the bathroom when you're ready."

You only barely register what he said, and you certainly don't register the water running in the bathroom, your only though being fix it, fix it, fix it.

When you finally satisfy that ache enough, everything hurts, and you know damn well it's going to hurt more in the morning, multiple infections on your hands and feet, then more as they nails grow in again. Tired and ready for sleep, you pad over to the bathroom with bleary eyes, finding Steven sitting on the tub, looking up at you worriedly.

"Hey. You feeling better?"

"Sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I'm like this."

"No" Steven stands up, taking you in his arms. "I'm sorry you're going through this, I know it's a lot. Here."

You look at the tub, realizing now theirs steaming water in it, only a few inches high.

"Is that for me?" You ask, curious.

"Yeah, it's really hot, so be carful. I just, I know they usually hurt, I thought we could try and prevent infection?"

You felt like you could cry again. "That would be great. Thank you"

The water was very very hot, Steven first put your fingers in the hot water and washed them with gentle soap, cleaning out all the blood, then after patting them dry, Steven put triple antibiotic gel on your fingers, bandaging the worst one. He then repeated the action on your toes, very careful but thorough on the toe that had been clipped.

As he laid you down on the bed again, tucking you in, he asked. "How are you feeling? Any racing thoughts?"

"No" you shook your head. "Just shit hurting" Before you or him could say more, you broke down crying again. "Im sorry"

"Oh love," Steven quickly embraced you. "You have nothing to be sorry for"

"I'm so fucking weird and gross" You sob.

"No." His voice was firm as he guided you to look at him. "You are not weird, and you are not gross. You are suffering, and it just hurts me to see you like this. I promise whatever I can do to ease your pain, I will. I'm sorry you're hurting, but you're doing so well, and I'm so proud of you."

Steven held you tight that night, the way that always comforted you, relaxed your mind, and although you swore you could feel your pulse in your thumb, and you still felt embarrassed, you felt safe knowing that Steven, Marc and Jake would always love you

**********************

IDK who would even like this but @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @howaboutcastiel and @welcometostayingawake bc ur my buddies and you support my weirdly specific shit