#but i remember feeling so awful not even knowing if the pain i put myself through did anything so idk if its worth that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hunzzzzz · 23 days ago

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Tell me sweet little lies: part 6

Summary: During a tense weekend in the Hamptons, Diane's pursuit of a story involving Kendall Roy takes a turn. Diane's journalistic detachment wavers, replaced by growing empathy. The escalating emotions of the weekend threaten to overwhelm her.

TW: smut on the beach, face sitting, vaginal fingering, oral (fem receiving), multiple orgasms, overstimulation

A/N: oooohh Kendall is so baby girl, I just want to give him a big hug

🦋🐟🐬🐠🧢🐳🩵👕🖌️🛋️🫂🎽🐋💦🌊💧🧊🪼🫐

Kendall watched Diane shift restlessly beside him, the moonlight from the window painting her face in stark contrasts of light and shadow. "Can't sleep?" he asked, his voice a low murmur.

"Nope," she yawned, her eyes wide and dark. "You?"

He turned onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. "Same here. Just… a lot on my mind."

Diane turned to face him, her brow furrowed slightly. "What is it?"

He sighed, a sound heavy with the weight of years. "Oh, you know. Just ever shitty thing that's happened since I can remember."

Diane's lips curved into a small, sympathetic smile. "Yeah, like what?"

"Like the time when I was 7, I got a dog for my birthday. A little golden retriever puppy I named Scout. I was obsessed with him. He was my best friend, the only thing in my life that felt genuinely mine, unconditionally loving. One afternoon, I was walking him in the park, and I let him off the leash for just a second. He ran off, chasing a squirrel. I searched for hours, called his name until my voice was hoarse. I never found him. My parents didn't care. They just said, 'It's just a dog,' and got me a new one a few weeks later— but it wasn’t the same. Nothing could ever replace Scout; he was precious."

"Or sparring with my dad… he used to make me box with him, at the ripe age of, what, 10? 11? He’d put on these old, worn-out gloves, and tell me to ‘toughen up.’ He wouldn’t hold back. Not really. He’d hit me hard enough to bruise, sometimes. One time, he knocked me down, and I remember just lying there on the floor, staring up at him. He just stood over me, saying ‘You're not hurt. Get up.’ It wasn’t about teaching me to defend myself. It was about… proving something. To himself, I guess. That he was strong. That I was weak. That I was his to break." He ran a hand through his hair, a flicker of pain crossing his features.

Diane's eyes widened, a genuine sympathy in their depths. "Oh Kendall, that's… awful."

A bitter chuckle escaped Kendall's lips. "Oh, and how could I ever forget the custody battle… they lined us up, me, Shiv, and Rome, and picked us, one by one, like we were being auctioned off. I was the last one left. The 'leftover.' My mom was so mortified—more by the optics, I think, than by my actual feelings—that she renegotiated the whole thing just to avoid taking me." He shook his head, the memory still sharp after all these years.

“I’m sorry, Kendall.” Diane whispered.

"That's just the tip of the iceberg," he said, his voice flat, almost devoid of emotion. "When I was thirteen, my first girlfriend admitted she only dated me to climb the social ladder. Dumped me the second she realized I wasn't going to get her into the 'in' crowd. It wasn't even personal, really. I was just a means to an end." He shrugged, but the gesture didn't quite mask the lingering hurt.

"And then, a few years later, my grandfather, who was like a father to me—the only father I ever truly knew—got sick. I spent months visiting him in the hospital, watching him fade away. The day he died, I was supposed to give a presentation in class. I went anyway, thinking I could compartmentalize. I got halfway through, broke down in front of everyone, and ran out of the room. I never finished the presentation. I never even went back to that class."

"But you learned from it, right?" Diane said softly, reaching out to touch his arm. Her fingers were cool against his skin. “You wouldn’t be who you are today if you didn’t get such tough skin from all of that, right?”

Kendall gave a wry, humorless smile. "I learned that some people are users. I learned that even hard work can lead to disaster. I learned that grief can hit you at the most inconvenient times. I learned that my own father saw me as something to conquer, not to nurture. And that sometimes, even your own mother can’t bear to look at you. I don't think a kid needs to learn all that. I should have been worried about algebra, not social manipulation and the casual cruelty of the people who were supposed to protect me." He looked at Diane, his eyes searching, pleading for understanding. "Sorry, I'm rambling."

"No," she said quickly, her voice barely above a whisper. "I… I like listening to you." She pulled her hand back, tucking it under the covers. In the dim light, Kendall couldn't see the way her fingers were twisting the fabric of the sheet.

"What about you?" he asked gently. "What's keeping you up?"

Diane hesitated, her heart pounding against her ribs. The image of the box, the tape, the crimson stain on the rough cloth, the file , flashed through her mind. I killed him. It was an accident. The words echoed in her head, a chilling mantra. She swallowed hard, forcing them back down. She glanced at Kendall, at the genuine concern in his eyes, and a wave of guilt washed over her.

"Just… a light sleeper." she mumbled, avoiding his gaze. She pulled the covers up to her chin, as if trying to shield herself from his questions. It wasn't a lie, not entirely, but the truth was buried beneath layers of fear and desperation.

"Oh, shit my bad. I’m sorry for waking you, I uh, I sometimes get night terrors.” He muttered an apology, feeling guilty.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, “I was just worried about you.”

“Don't let me keep you up. You need your precious beauty sleep.” He gently brushed her hair away from her forehead, his touch lingering.

When Kendall looked at Diane, a feeling bloomed in his chest, unfamiliar and potent. Was it love? A terrifying, exhilarating possibility. He’d never known it, not from Logan Roy, a man whose billions couldn’t buy him an ounce of paternal warmth. Logan’s affection was transactional, reserved for business deals and power plays, never for his children.

And his mother, Caroline… Caroline was a ghost in his life, a beautiful, brittle creature more concerned with her social standing than her offspring. She’d never breastfed her children, couldn't be bothered with the messy, intimate act of nurturing. From the moment they were born, they were handed off to a rotating cast of nannies and maids, their cries and needs a mere inconvenience to her perfectly manicured existence.

He’d spent his life chasing his parents’ approval, believing achievement would unlock their love. He’d excelled in school, captained the lacrosse team, pursued every venture his father suggested, hoping to finally earn a flicker of recognition, a word of praise. But their indifference had become a constant hum in the background of his life, a confirmation of his inherent unworthiness. Their eyes, when they did fall on him, held a chilling emptiness, as if they were looking through him, not at him. After the divorce, Caroline had all but vanished, choosing to settle for sprawling estates and lucrative investments rather than fight for custody. Land and property held more value to her than her own children. It was a stark, brutal message: they were disposable.

Even his marriage to Rava, a logical, expected step, had lacked a spark. It was a union born of societal pressure and a desperate attempt to create a semblance of normalcy, not love. Fatherhood, too, had failed to fill the void, overshadowed by Logan’s dismissive attitude towards his grandchildren, treating them as pawns in his ongoing power games.

Then there was Diane. At first, a welcome distraction, a brief respite from the crushing weight of his family’s legacy. Now… something more. She didn’t demand perfection or offer conditional acceptance like his family. Their shared experiences of childhood pain, though different in their specifics, resonated deeply. They understood the unspoken language of neglect, the constant ache of feeling unseen. Unlike Rava, who tried to mold him into a version of himself she found acceptable, Diane simply listened . She saw him, the real him, with all his flaws and insecurities. With Rava, he’d always worn a mask, playing the role of the successful husband and father, a performance he could never quite perfect, especially with his father’s critical gaze always in his mind.

Diane had found him in the depths of despair. The night they met, he was a wreck, a monument to self-destruction, lost in a haze of expensive whiskey, crushed pills, and a self-loathing that gnawed at him from the inside out. He’d been on the verge of oblivion, teetering on the precipice of something dark and irreversible. But instead of recoiling like everyone else—the concerned glances that quickly turned to averted eyes, the hushed whispers of “poor Kendall,” the thinly veiled disgust—she’d offered a brief respite from his agony.

And it wasn't just that one night. It was the weeks that followed, the slow, agonizing unraveling of Vaulter, the public humiliation, the feeling of utter failure that threatened to consume him. He’d expected her to disappear, to join the chorus of disappointed voices, to add her name to the long list of people who had abandoned him. But she didn't. When he was down in the dumps, curled up in the fetal position on his couch, reeking of stale liquor and despair, she stayed. She didn't try to fix him, didn't offer empty platitudes or unsolicited advice. She simply sat with him, a silent presence in his storm. She offered comfort in small gestures: a hand on his shoulder, a gentle stroke of his hair, a massage; her touch was a welcome distraction—only she could make him feel good..

He’d never known such kindness, such unwavering acceptance. His past relationships had been built on performance, on the expectation that he would always be the strong one, the successful one, the one who had it all together. With Diane, there were no expectations, no masks to maintain. He could be his broken, flawed self, and she wouldn't flinch.

Kendall was falling in love, a sensation entirely new to him, a terrifying and exhilarating freefall. He’d never known such a profound connection, such a deep and abiding affection. The love he’d witnessed had always been conditional, transactional, a tool for manipulation or a means to an end. He’d always doubted his capacity for love, his worthiness of it, convinced that he was incapable of giving or receiving such a pure and vulnerable emotion. Yet, here he was, feeling it for the first time.

And he would do anything to keep this woman in his life. The feeling he felt was aggressive and fraught— he wanted her with panic and passion.

————————————————————————-

Kendall woke up in the predawn hours, sleep eluding him. He watched Diane, her peaceful form curled away from him. A surge of affection washed over him, and he pulled her closer, his arms wrapping around her protectively. Soon, he was lulled back to sleep by the warmth of her body.

The first slivers of dawn pierced the curtains, painting the room in shades of grey. Diane stirred, her eyes snapping open. She was trapped, a prisoner in Kendall’s suffocating embrace. His grip was a vise. “Morning,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, a low rumble against her ear.

“Let me up,” she said, a tremor in her voice as she tried to subtly pry his fingers loose.

“You’re so warm,” he protested, his hold tightening, a possessive edge creeping into his tone. “What’s the rush?”

Panic flared in Diane’s chest. Under her pillow, hidden from view, lay the box– the box containing the evidence. She had to move it, now. Before he saw. “I just… I like to start my day early,” she stammered, forcing a lightness into her voice, desperately trying to coax him out of bed, away from the pillow.

“Five more minutes,” he groaned, pulling her even closer, his breath hot on her neck.

“You’re such a diva,” she teased, a brittle laugh escaping her lips. Inside, her mind raced, calculating, strategizing. The seconds ticked by like hammer blows.

Kendall held her captive for what felt like an eternity, a suffocating closeness that made her skin crawl. Finally, with a sigh of exaggerated reluctance, he relented, but only after she promised him a “special present” and whispered promises of making him “feel good” after his shower – a promise that tasted like ash in her mouth.

The moment he was out of sight, the bathroom door clicking shut, Diane lunged for the pillow. Her fingers closed around the box, cold and hard in her trembling hand. She shoved it deep into her bag. A wave of nausea washed over her. This trip. This charade. It was all about uncovering the truth behind the cruise scandal, a truth buried deep beneath layers of lies and deceit. The stakes were higher than she’d ever imagined. This information was crucial, not just for her article, but for something much bigger. She took a shaky breath, steeling her resolve. No matter the cost.

When Kendall emerged, freshly showered and radiating an oblivious charm, Diane was already in the kitchen, forcing herself to appear calm and collected.

“I was promised a reward?” Kendall announced, a playful grin spreading across his face.

“Yes, you were,” Diane replied, a smirk playing on her lips. She slid a mug of steaming coffee towards him across the counter. “I made you coffee.” Of course, she knew he was expecting something more than coffee.

“You played me,” he pouted, his playful tone not quite masking a hint of disappointment.

“I never specified anything,” she giggled, her tone light and teasing.

“Maybe you just need some energy,” he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a playful light. He took a sip of the coffee, then set the mug down with a decisive clink. “Let’s go out for breakfast.”

It was the last thing she wanted. Every fiber of her being screamed at her to flee, to return home with the file and the box, to dissect every piece of evidence, to finally break this story wide open. The need for a breakthrough was a burning obsession. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She forced a smile, a mask of compliance.

“Sure,” she agreed, her voice light and airy. She knew she had to play along, at least for now.

—————————————————————————

“Where are we going?” Diane asked, watching the blossoming trees blur past the window. She rolled it down, welcoming the spring breeze that tousled her hair, a fleeting moment of normalcy in the tense undercurrent between them.

Breakfast had been a strained affair. Kendall, clearly exhausted from a restless night, yawned incessantly, a stark contrast to his usual vibrant self. He pushed through it, though, his gaze fixed on Diane, as if her mere presence could ward off his fatigue. Spending time with her was paramount.

“It’s a surprise,” Kendall said, glancing at her, a look of almost unsettling adoration in his eyes. “But I think you’ll like it.”

“How do you know that?” she asked, a flicker of suspicion igniting within her.

“Well,” he began, a mischievous glint in his eye, “your horoscope said you were going to have a day full of nostalgia and adventures. It said you’d spend it with a special someone.” He winked, the gesture feeling strangely heavy.

“Bullshit,” she retorted, rolling her eyes. “You’re winding me up. Ha ha.” The laugh felt forced, brittle.

“I’m not,” he insisted earnestly. “That’s what it said on Elle, swear on my life.”

“But you don’t even believe in that stuff,” she said, narrowing her eyes, trying to decipher if this was some elaborate joke, or something far more unsettling.

“Yeah, but you do, so it doesn’t matter what I think,” he replied, taking her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, resting their joined hands in her lap. The casual intimacy felt like a violation.

“You’re creeping me out now, seriously,” she rolled her eyes. “What is this secret location you’re taking me to?”

The unease wasn’t just about the mystery destination. It was about his sudden, intense focus on her, the way he seemed to be cataloging her every like and dislike. It was a dangerous game he was playing, a slippery slope that would inevitably lead to probing questions, intimate inquiries that she couldn’t afford.

Diane was always on edge around Kendall, a constant state of vigilance. She could never let her guard down, every word carefully weighed, every action meticulously planned. The risk of her cover being blown was a constant, suffocating pressure. The strain was taking its toll, a stark contrast to the easy comfort Kendall seemed to radiate in her presence. He was free, open, while she was trapped in a cage of her own making.

“Relax, you’re so tense,” he said, squeezing her hand again, oblivious to her inner turmoil. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Mhmm,” Diane mumbled, offering a weak, uneasy smile.

Finally, Kendall parked the car. He climbed out, then rounded the vehicle, opening Diane’s door, offering his hand to help her out. As the building came into view, her breath caught in her throat. It was an aquarium. A genuine smile touched her lips.

“I know your Pisces quirks,” he smirked, a smug satisfaction in his voice, pulling her towards the entrance. “You love water.” The casual observation, the way he’d filed away this small detail about her, sent another wave of unease through her. This wasn’t just a date. It was something else. Something she couldn’t quite define, but it felt like a trap closing around her.

The aquarium was a kaleidoscope of blues and greens, a mesmerizing underwater world teeming with life. Diane was captivated. Schools of shimmering fish darted past coral reefs, rays glided effortlessly through the water, and majestic sharks patrolled their domain. For a brief, precious moment, she forgot about the box, the lies, the constant vigilance. She was simply Diane, a woman enjoying the wonders of the ocean.

They watched playful sea otters tumble over each other, their sleek bodies twirling in the water. They stood mesmerized by the graceful ballet of jellyfish, their translucent forms pulsating with an ethereal glow. They even braved the touch tank, Diane hesitantly reaching out to stroke the rough skin of a starfish. Laughter bubbled up from her, genuine and unrestrained, a sound Kendall drank in like a man parched in a desert.

But the idyllic atmosphere began to shift as Kendall’s curiosity, previously charming, turned into something more intense. He started asking questions, probing beneath the surface, wanting to know the real Diane, the woman hidden behind the carefully constructed façade.

“What’s your favorite exhibit so far?” he asked, his eyes fixed on her, searching.

“Probably the beluga whales,” she replied, her gaze still on the massive white creatures swimming in their tank. “They’re so intelligent.”

“Like you,” he murmured, then, more pointedly, “So uh, what do you do for fun? You love the water, I know that much, but what else?”

The question hung in the air, the lightheartedness of the moment dissipating. Diane hesitated. “I… I don’t really have much time for fun,” she said, a half-truth slipping past her lips. “Work keeps me pretty busy.”

“You’re always working,” he observed, a hint of concern in his voice. “Don’t you have any friends? People you hang out with?”

“Not really,” Diane paused, considering her response. “I mean, I have friends,” she corrected herself, a slight catch in her throat. “I do. But I… I just don’t have time for them. I can’t explain it. When I’m with them, all I’m thinking about is the next project at work. I’m there, but not really there. Work alway has and will be my number one priority.”

It was the truth. Diane’s work ethic was relentless, bordering on obsessive. Late nights in the office were the norm, not the exception. She refused to leave until she was satisfied, driven by an internal engine that never seemed to run out of fuel.

This drive stemmed from her upbringing. Raised by hard working parents, she had learned the value of perseverance and dedication from a young age. Both her mother and father had worked tirelessly to provide her with the best life possible. Her mother, a dedicated nurse, often picked up extra shifts around holidays like her birthday and Christmas, sacrificing precious time to afford her the most luxurious gifts. Her father, a hardworking businessman who ran a small advertising company, had saved every penny from the day she was born to fund her college education. “You’re destined for greatness,” he would often tell her, instilling in her a deep belief in her own potential.

Driven by a potent mix of ambition and gratitude, Diane had excelled in her studies. Her near-perfect GPA had opened doors, leading her to a successful career in journalism. She poured her heart and soul into her work, striving for excellence in everything she did. This relentless drive was the reason she was so immersed in this current article, the cruise scandal. She had been promised a promotion, a reward she could almost taste. But beneath the professional ambition lay a deeper motivation: to make her parents proud. She wanted to show them that their sacrifices, their tireless efforts, hadn’t been in vain. She had to.

Kendall’s expression clouded slightly. “That’s… kind of sad,” he said softly. “Everyone needs someone.”

“My parents— my mom, she sacrificed everything for me,” she said, her voice softening. “That’s why I work so hard. I can’t let her down.”

“So that’s what drives you?” Kendall asked, his voice gentle. “The need to make them proud?”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding slowly. “I guess it is.”

The conversation had taken a decidedly personal turn. Diane felt exposed, vulnerable. She had revealed more than she intended, offering glimpses into her past, half-truths woven with genuine emotion. Kendall, on the other hand, seemed satisfied, a small smile playing on his lips. He had learned something new about her, something he thought brought them closer. But for Diane, it was a dangerous game, a tightrope walk between truth and deception, and she knew she couldn’t keep it up forever.

“I… I can relate to that, Diane,” Kendall said, his voice a low, gravelly murmur. “My dad… I was never good enough for him. Still amn’t.” He looked away, his gaze lost in the swirling water of a nearby tank, as if re-living a painful memory. “I spent my whole life trying to make him proud. But I always fail. Every single time.”

He recounted a harrowing memory, his voice laced with bitterness. “Even after he had the stroke… I went to see him once he woke up. He could barely speak, but he still managed to call me a ‘fucking moron.’ Even on his deathbed, he couldn’t bring himself to say he was proud.” A shudder ran through him. “I’m terrified,” he confessed, his voice barely a whisper. “Terrified that his dying words will be that I’m a failure.”

The raw emotion in his voice was unsettling. Diane, ever the opportunist, saw a chance to delve deeper, to gather more information about Logan Roy, the man behind the monster. This wasn't about genuine empathy; it was about the story, the information she desperately needed.

“Why?” she asked, her voice soft, feigning concern. “Why did you let him treat you like that?”

Kendall hesitated, a flicker of pain crossing his face. He looked at Diane, his eyes filled with a deep, almost desperate need for understanding. “He’s holding some shit over my head, to control me,” he admitted, his voice strained.

Diane’s pulse quickened. This was it. This was the opening she’d been waiting for. His confession he murmured in his sleep last night: “I killed him. It was an accident.”

“What is it?” she pressed gently, her voice laced with feigned sympathy. She had to tread carefully; pushing too hard would raise suspicion.

Kendall looked away again, his expression a mixture of shame and fear. He remained silent for a long moment, the only sound the gentle hum of the aquarium’s filtration system. The tension in the air was palpable.

Finally, he spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “I can’t… It’s nothing… never mind,” he said, shaking his head slowly.

She softened her expression, placing a gentle hand on his arm.

Diane pressed further, her mind racing, trying to find a new angle to extract the information she craved. She remembered Kendall’s restless night, his night terror. “Was that what your nightmare was about last night?” she asked, her voice soft and concerned, tilting her head slightly. “Your dad?”

Kendall flinched, a visible ripple of discomfort passing over his face. He looked away, his gaze darting around the aquarium, landing on nothing in particular. The playful sea otters, the graceful jellyfish, the imposing sharks – none of it seemed to register. He was lost in his own private world of pain and fear.

He hesitated for a long moment, then shook his head slowly. “No,” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. “It wasn’t about him.”

The curt response hung in the air, a clear signal that the subject was closed. Diane could see the shutters coming down, the walls rising back up around him. He wasn’t going to offer any more information, not willingly.

She tried a different tack, softening her tone, feigning a casual interest. “Nightmares can be so strange,” she said, forcing a light chuckle. “Sometimes they’re just random images and feelings, not really about anything specific.”

Kendall remained silent, his gaze fixed on the swirling water of a nearby tank. He didn’t respond, didn’t offer any further explanation. The silence stretched between them, heavy and uncomfortable.

Kendall abruptly changed the topic, the shift in his mood almost jarring. “Let’s go play with the penguins,” he announced, a forced lightness in his voice. He reached for Diane’s hand, his fingers intertwining with hers, and began walking briskly in their direction, as if trying to outpace the heavy emotions that had just hung between them.

As they walked, Diane’s mind replayed everything Kendall had just revealed. A strange feeling stirred within her, something she hadn’t anticipated. A flicker of… empathy? It was an unwelcome sensation, a crack in the carefully constructed wall she had built around herself. Kendall, the man she had pegged as powerful, perhaps even villainous, suddenly appeared different. He seemed like a little boy trapped in a man’s body, a broken soul struggling beneath a surface of wealth and privilege.

She saw him now, not as the entitled heir she had imagined, but as a victim of circumstance. He was trapped under the oppressive weight of his father, unable to break free. The image of the spoiled rich bachelor began to crumble, replaced by a more nuanced, complex picture. Perhaps his behavior, his flaws, were a direct result of his upbringing, of the tyrannical figure that loomed over his life.

Diane was slowly peeling back his layers, uncovering the pain and hurt he carried deep within. A father who was a tyrant, wielding his power like a weapon. His mother hadn’t just left; she had abandoned them. Abandoned him and his siblings in the midst of a bitter divorce, choosing material possessions, property, over her own children. A brother who had betrayed him, a wound that cut deeper than any physical injury. It was a devastating combination, a recipe for deep-seated trauma. The image of a villain that she had expected dissolved completely, replaced by the stark reality of a deeply wounded child.

Kendall hadn’t just been through a “terrible childhood”; he had endured a series of profound betrayals, wounds that had clearly never healed. It wasn’t just about being rich and privileged; it was about the absence of love, the lack of emotional support, the deep-seated feeling of being unwanted.

The penguins, with their comical waddle and playful antics, provided a temporary distraction. Diane was genuinely delighted by their antics, she pointed out their individual quirks, laughing as they slipped and slid on the ice. Kendall found himself smiling, drawn in by her infectious enthusiasm, his earlier melancholy momentarily forgotten.

But even as Diane laughed alongside him, the feeling of empathy lingered. It was a disconcerting sensation, one she struggled to reconcile with her mission. She was supposed to be objective, focused on the story, not emotionally invested in the subject. Yet, she couldn’t deny the shift in her perception of Kendall. He was no longer just a source of information, a pawn– but he was also a victim.

The game had changed. It wasn't just about getting the story anymore; it was about something much more complicated, something she couldn't quite define.

—————————————————————————-

The afternoon was a promise of summer, a taste of the warmth to come. The Hamptons air, still carrying a hint of spring’s crispness, held the faintest whisper of salt and blooming beach roses. The sky, a brilliant, almost blinding blue, stretched endlessly overhead, the sun a benevolent presence warming their skin. From her perch on the yacht, Diane’s gaze swept across the scene: the coastline, a gentle curve of sand dunes and swaying beach grass, punctuated by the stately homes that lined the shore, their weathered shingles gleaming in the sunlight. The water, a vibrant turquoise, shimmered and danced, reflecting the sun’s rays like a thousand tiny diamonds. A few early sailboats, their white sails billowing in the gentle breeze, dotted the horizon, harbingers of the summer fleet soon to arrive.

Kendall, however, remained oblivious to the beauty surrounding him, lost in a deep, much-needed slumber. He was sprawled across a cushioned sunbed, his face turned towards the sun, absorbing its warmth like a cat basking in a sunbeam. He’d been wound tight all morning, a restless energy simmering beneath his usually controlled exterior, but the gentle rocking of the yacht and the warmth of the afternoon had finally coaxed him into a state of rare tranquility. His head rested comfortably on Diane’s bare thighs, his dark hair tousled, a shadow of stubble darkening his jaw.

Diane, seated on the edge of the sunbed, a well-worn paperback resting open in her lap, sipped her Prosecco, the tiny bubbles a pleasant tickle against her lips. The sun warmed her skin, but she was mindful of Kendall’s fair complexion. Every so often, she’d squeeze a generous dollop of high-SPF sunscreen onto her hand and gently rub it into his exposed back, her touch light and careful, avoiding the faint scars that marred his skin – she wondered how he got them, was his father so cruel?

He stirred in his sleep, a soft murmur escaping his lips. “Mmm… thanks,” he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. He shifted slightly, nuzzling his face deeper into her thigh, a small, almost childlike gesture. For the first time in his life, someone was truly taking care of him, protecting him, not from physical harm, but from the constant, gnawing anxieties that plagued his mind. It was a small, almost insignificant act of care, but in its simplicity, it felt profoundly significant.

—————————————————————————-

After the sunset, they returned to the shore, the last vestiges of daylight painting the sky in hues of fading rose and soft lavender. Fine grains of sand clung to their skin. Diane was sprawled comfortably beside him on a beach blanket, his oversized Yale sweatshirt draped over her bikini, the sleeves swallowed by her small hands.

It was a stark contrast to her usual meticulously curated appearance— the tailored skirts that skimmed her knees, the crisp blouses buttoned just so, the subtle but perfectly applied makeup that enhanced her features. This casual, almost childlike version of Diane, with her hair tousled by the sea breeze and her face bare of makeup.

He knew it was pathetic, this almost obsessive focus on her appearance. He was a man who commanded boardrooms, negotiated billion-dollar deals, and yet, he was utterly captivated by the way the fading light caught the curve of her cheek, by the way her bare feet ruffled in the sand. He was pathetic, he knew that, and yet he simply couldn’t bring himself to care. Not at this moment. Not when she looked like this.

She looked so perfect, it was bordering on painful. It was a low, simmering ache in his gut, a tightening in his chest that made it hard to breathe. He swore it was driving him clinically insane. So good that it was making his genius brain, the one that could dissect complex financial models and strategize corporate takeovers, malfunction. And, if he was being brutally honest with himself, it was also making his downstairs ‘brain’ run on overdrive.

She began to trace patterns in the sky with her finger, her voice soft and hushed, as if sharing a sacred secret. “See that bright one there?” she asked, pointing towards a star just beginning to pierce the twilight. “That’s Arcturus, one of the brightest stars in the spring sky. It’s part of the constellation Boötes, the herdsman. You can find it by following the arc of the Big Dipper’s handle.”

Kendall followed her gaze, his eyes drawn to the emerging point of light. The sky was still transitioning from day to night, a gradient of deep blues and purples, making the few visible stars seem all the more precious. “It’s just starting to come out,” he murmured, a genuine sense of wonder in his voice.

Diane smiled, her eyes reflecting the nascent starlight. “Exactly,” she said. “It’s a sign of spring, a promise of warmer nights to come. And over there,” she continued, shifting her finger slightly, “that’s Leo, the lion. See how it kind of looks like a backwards question mark? Regulus is its brightest star, marking the lion’s heart.” She traced the constellation’s shape in the sky, her finger moving with a graceful precision. “It’s a powerful image, a symbol of strength and courage.”

“Strength,” Kendall repeated, the word catching in his throat. He’d spent so much of his life trying to project an image of strength, a mask that was constantly threatening to slip. The idea of genuine inner strength, the kind that Diane seemed to possess effortlessly, felt like a distant, unattainable dream.

“Yeah,” Diane said, her gaze still fixed on the heavens. “And if you look a little further down, you can see Virgo, associated with the harvest, another sign of the coming abundance of summer. Spring is all about new beginnings, right? A time for things to grow and bloom.” She paused, taking a deep breath of the cool, fragrant air. “It makes you think about possibilities, about what could be.”

Her words, her quiet enthusiasm, had a grounding effect on Kendall. The emerging stars, the ancient stories woven into the constellations, the promise of spring’s renewal, created a space outside of his own anxieties. For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt present, connected to something larger than himself, anchored to the earth beneath him. The sand beneath him felt solid, the cool spring air on his skin felt refreshing, and the woman beside him, with her quiet wisdom and gentle spirit, felt like a lifeline in the encroaching darkness.

Kendall admired Diane’s side profile, she was beautiful, not in the polished, calculated way she often presented herself to the world, but in a raw, natural way that took his breath away. Spring was in the air, and it seemed to have breathed new life into her as well. The moonlight cast long shadows across the sand, illuminating the delicate curve of Diane’s cheek, the soft curve of her lips.

"You look so beautiful," Kendall murmured, his voice low and husky, the sound barely audible above the gentle lapping of the waves against the shore. He leaned in, gently cupping her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing lightly across her cheekbones. His touch was feather-light, hesitant, as if he were afraid she might shatter if he held her too tightly. And then he kissed her.

The kiss was soft, almost tentative at first, like a question being asked rather than a statement being made. Gentle. Nothing rushed. It wasn't the kind of kiss they'd shared before. Their previous encounters had been charged with a different kind of energy, a raw, almost desperate urgency fueled by lust, by the heat of the moment during sex. Those kisses had been demanding, possessive, frantic.

This was different. This was tender, almost hesitant, a soft exploration rather than a passionate conquest. It was the first time they had kissed like this, fully clothed. The lines blurred in Diane’s mind; this felt dangerously close to real.

She pulled back slightly, a flicker of confusion, perhaps even a hint of fear, in her eyes.

Kendall, sensing her hesitation, didn't pull away. He simply stroked her cheek with the back of his hand, his eyes a silent plea, a desperate yearning for something he couldn't quite articulate. He wanted this connection, this moment, to be real, to mean something. He so desperately wanted the heavens above to answer the silent prayer in his heart, to grant him this one thing he craved above all else: genuine, unconditional love.

Diane got lost in his hazel eyes, those pools of vulnerability and longing. Against her better judgment, she leaned back in, her own hand reaching up to touch his arm. Their lips met again, this time with a greater sense of urgency, their breaths mingling in the cool night air. Their lips moved in sync, it felt bizarre, wrong on so many levels. This wasn't supposed to happen. But for a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to forget about her plan.

Kendall was kissing her like he was terrified. Terrified he would wake up and it would’ve all been a dream, a fleeting mirage in the desert of his loneliness. He held onto her as if she might disappear at any moment, his lips pressing against hers with a desperate, almost frantic tenderness. He rolled them over, a slow, deliberate movement that shifted their positions on the beach. Now, Diane straddled his hips, her knees sinking slightly into the cool, damp grains of sand.

“Sit on my face,” Kendall pleaded, squeezing her ass. She frowned as he laid his head down, getting cozy with his head on the sand, still smirking, patting his mouth comically—an invitation.

“What?” Diane asked not sure what to make of his unusual request. She knew it was a private beach but it still felt too exposed.

When she didn’t move he lifted his head back up, “Come on,” he urged her, tapping her hips to nudge her along, “let me taste you. Sit. On. My. Face.”

Kendall couldn't resist not eating her out whenever he had the chance. She slowly crawled up over him, hesitating once she was straddling his chest, unable to hold back a blush. His warm hands are quick to hook around her thighs, sliding his thumb over her hip bones as she hovered in front of his chin, “come closer.”

He lifted his head up when she finally scooted forward, still hovering. Kendall kissed her inner thigh, smirking as her hips bucked lower towards his touch.

“Sacred I’m gonna bite?” His lips moved against her thigh, his stubble tickling her as he spoke.

“No, I don’t want to suffocate you.” She pushed her fingers through his hair, gripping at his roots.

“I wish you would, ” he groaned, pulling her lower so he didn’t have to crane his neck to taste her. He licked the wet spot on her bikini, lapping at her juices, moaning before flattening his tongue, dragging it up to her clit to suck lightly through the fabric.

It wasn’t long before had enough of the thin material blocking his way, aggressively pulling on the strings over her hips to untie it, so he could finally lick her how he wanted. Which she quickly realized was mercilessly. He was hungry—starved for something only her pussy could satiate, drinking her in like he was dehydrated. It was intense. He ate with reverence, slurping loudly and humming in appreciation, his hot lips suctioning on her clit till she was seeing stars.

Diane’s feedback was choppy, like her brain couldn’t sync up in time to react to his movements— to the sensations. It was all broken moans and shudders, the only thing consistent is the way she pulled his hair.

She was leaning more and more of her weight onto his face and rocking , occasionally lifting a bit when she remembered her self-control. But after she lifted one too many times, Kendall’s fingers tightened around her thighs, holding her close with an ironclad grip— making her squirm.

Kendall was delighted as he peered up at her beneath drunk lashes, eyes just as dazed as his mind as he watched her sumptuous body move on top of him. She tasted like cloyingly honey on the tip of his tongue, her essence lingering in the back of his throat every time he swallowed. He chased the slick beads as they dripped down her plump thighs, greedy mouth attacking her soft insides as she moaned on top of him, her pussy drooling and clenching around nothing as the hot coil inside of her twisted tighter. He groaned against her searing skin, his hot breath tickling her sensitive flesh as every hair on the nape of her neck stood up.

"So beautiful" Kendall muttered, voice dripping with reverence. "You look so beautiful tonight."

He etched the intimate scene into his mind as a pleasant itch tingled at the base of his skull, fingers twitching around her plump hips as he squeezed the pillowy soft skin. His tongue lapped at the dripping seam of her cunt; prying open the puffy folds as indulged in more of your slick nectar flowing from her core like a river.

Diane almost choked on a hiccup of pleasure, her clit weakly kicking against the press of his nose as he sealed his mouth over her entrance. Her blood simmered in her veins, pulling and tugging on his raven locks, hips shaking as she tried to contain her sudden spike in arousal twisting low in the pit of her gut. A constellation of tears clung to the edges of her lashes as stars swirled in her vision, voice stinging her throat as she struggled to breathe.

Her legs trembled, her full weight failing upon his lips and tongue—and Kendall couldn’t have been more grateful . It didn't take long for his mouth to become sloppy, drool dripping from the corner of his mouth.

Diane’s vision began to blur. She couldn’t tell if it was from tears welling up or the overwhelming sensation building in her core. She was dripping so, so sweetly, and Kendall beneath her hummed, hungry, ravenous, he needed more, he wanted to eat her whole. His tongue slowly circled her bud, and oh fuck, he pulled and it tugged in it, opening the floodgates. The building pressure unfurled, Diane threw her head back, whimpering. And kendall drank it all in.

But he didn’t stop there. He wasn’t done just yet.

He held her in place, still latched onto her clit as she rode out her orgasm. Because cumming once wasn’t enough for him. It didn’t matter that his chin was wet with her, that his tongue was soaked with the taste of her. Kendall wanted to wrack her body until she had nothing left to give. So he kept on sucking and swirling his tongue around her clit, until she came again and again until she was spent, until she screamed without sound, until the stars behind her eyelids faded away into black.

Her hips convulsed around him, putting him in a headlock of sorts, before she released him, her body fell back against his raised knees, he caught her, letting her body take a moment from his torturous tongue.

“Could eat you all night,” he groaned, her legs still open, inches away from his mouth, as her back rested against his thighs, her head draped over his knees. He watched her pink, puffy lips glisten with his residual spit and her own sweet juices.

Diane had gone non-verbal by that point, her body was still shaking as she looked up at the vast expanse of the sky. Kendall moved his middle finger up and down along her slit before taking his middle and index finger to spread open her sensitive lips, admiring her sex dripping for him. He loved the way it glistened. He watched as her walls clenched around nothing, practically begging him to fill her up.

“Kendall, please,” she begged him. Her voice, still raspy. He did a double take at her disheveled appearance. Her eyes bloodshot with her mascara running, smudging her under eyes.

He didn't respond as he spread her lips further apart, letting the cold breeze hit her entrance. Her face heated up while Kendall fully exposed her.

“You have the tightest little pussy,” he commented, feeling how her entrance wanted to take in his thumb, but he didn't push it in. Not yet.

He finally slipped a finger inside her. Her walls instinctively squeezed around his thick digit. She cried out in pleasure as she squirmed more. The pad of his finger slowly rubbed and pressed firmly on that spongey spot on her walls. She arched her back letting out a strangled cry.

Kendall gently pushed another finger inside her. She bit her lip to stifle a moan as he began pumping them in and out of her slowly. She felt his cock twitch under her. His fingers were knuckle deep, he continued thrusting them inside her. He curled them up and made sure to pay close attention to her g-spot, pressing on it and massaging it. Making her walls clench up, her toes curling in the sand.

“You okay, baby?” Kendall checked in, but his fingers didn’t slow.

“Y-yes… I’m okay, keep going,” she stammered out, as she tried to keep focus.

He chuckled and picked up the pace. His fingers were making her pussy create the most vulgar wet sounds she'd ever heard. Her slick soaking his hand as he fucked her. Her legs shook and he took his other hand to rub tight circles over her clit.

Kendall didn't stop. His fingers still moved in and out of her while his other hand paid attention to her throbbing clit. He milked her pussy as she rode out her release. He finally slowed down and stilled his hands. Carefully, he removed his fingers with a loud shlick . A string of her juices still connecting to them. He brought them up to his lips, sticking them in his mouth.

Kendall hummed at the taste of her. “You’re so sweet.” She wanted to hide her face, her eyes were glossy, illuminated by the moonlight.

“You're crazy,” Diane whispered, feeling like she just had an out of body experience. He pulled her back down, their chests pressed together, his tongue dancing in her mouth.

(*siri play champage coast by blood orange; 3:01*)

A rogue wave, emboldened by the rising tide, surged up the beach, engulfing their legs. The sudden rush of icy water sent a jolt through Kendall, a flash of annoyance tightening his features. He scowled at his soaked clothes, the sand now stubbornly clinging to the damp fabric.

But then he looked at Diane.

Her reaction was the complete opposite. She threw her head back and let out a burst of pure, unrestrained laughter—a sound so genuine and carefree, it was infectious. Before Kendall could process his irritation, Diane was running towards the water’s edge, jumping into the sea with a joyful cry, submerging herself completely. The cool water seemed to revitalize her, like a dried-up starfish returned to the ocean.

She resurfaced, her hair plastered to her face, water dripping from her eyelashes, but her smile was radiant. “It’s amazing!” she shouted, her voice echoing across the beach. “Come on in!”

Kendall watched her, a mixture of disbelief and reluctant amusement swirling within him. He was still annoyed about his ruined clothes, but Diane’s infectious joy was hard to resist. He couldn’t understand her carefree attitude, her ability to embrace the unexpected.

He hesitated, glancing at his expensive, now soaked shoes. But Diane’s laughter continued to beckon. He kicked off his shoes and waded into the cold water.

Suddenly, Diane splashed him, a playful wave aimed directly at his chest. Kendall gasped, feigning offense. “Oh, you’re going down!” he shouted, retaliating with a splash of his own. Playful splashes and shrieks echoed across the quiet beach, a stark contrast to Kendall’s usual heavy silence. He chased Diane through the shallows, the cold water a shocking but welcome sensation. As he lunged for her, catching her in his arms, they both tumbled into the waves with a shared cry.

For Kendall, the feeling was almost foreign. He had forgotten what it felt like to simply laugh. The last time he remembered feeling this carefree was a distant memory, a faded snapshot from a childhood that felt like it belonged to someone else. His life had become a carefully constructed performance, a constant striving for his father’s approval. There was no room for joy in the rigid structure he had built around himself. Every action was weighed against his father’s expectations, the burden of his past mistakes, the fear of his uncertain future.

But in that moment, in the cool ocean water, with Diane’s laughter ringing in his ears, the weight lifted. The years of pressure, the constant striving, the deep-seated fear – all of it seemed to wash away with the waves. He was just Kendall, a man playing in the ocean with a woman who made him feel something he couldn’t define. It was more than just attraction; it was connection, a shared moment of pure joy.

He looked at Diane, her face flushed with laughter, and a genuine smile spread across his own. He had forgotten the simple pleasure of being present, of letting go of his worries and simply enjoying another person’s company. She had somehow managed to chip away at the walls he had built around himself, revealing a part of him he thought had long since died. It was terrifying.

They continued their playful fight, splashing and chasing each other until they were both breathless and shivering. They collapsed onto the sand, their wet clothes clinging to their bodies.

“Come on,” Kendall said, extending a hand to her. “Let’s get you inside before you catch a cold.” He gently pulled her to her feet, noticing she was shivering slightly. The sand squished between her toes with every step.

He then bent down, scooping her up into his arms before she could protest. Diane gasped, a surprised laugh escaping her lips. “I can walk,” she protested, though her voice lacked conviction.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice firm but gentle, his eyes filled with concern. “And walking in this wet sand isn’t going to help. Besides,” he added with a playful grin, a hint of teasing in his tone, “I think I’ve worn you out tonight?”

Diane met his gaze, a small smile playing on her lips. She didn’t argue, wrapping her arms loosely around his neck. Her eyelids felt heavy, and she nestled against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat a soothing counterpoint to the crashing waves. Then, she drifted off.

Kendall carried Diane back to the house, her small frame surprisingly light in his arms. He climbed the porch steps and entered the warm interior, noticing her breathing had become slow and even. He carried her directly to the bedroom and gently laid her on the bed. The wet fabric of her clothes clung uncomfortably to her skin, so he carefully removed his soaked sweatshirt from her, being mindful not to wake her.

He fetched a soft towel and dried her off. He didn't care about the sand that fell onto the sheets or the saltwater that clung to their hair. All that mattered was Diane, the peaceful expression on her sleeping face, the soft rise and fall of her chest.

He found a clean pair of his sweatpants and a soft t-shirt and dressed her, pulling the soft fabric over her still-damp skin. He then lay down beside her, pulling the covers over them both and tightening his hold slightly, drawing her closer. He had never felt this sense of peace, this quiet contentment. It was a feeling that defied explanation—a simple knowing that everything, in that moment, was exactly as it should be.

It was just them, in that quiet room, with the sound of the ocean as their only companion. It felt perfect—a brief escape from the complexities of their lives, a moment of respite. For Kendall, it was a glimpse of something he hadn't known he was missing: a taste of peace and connection. And for Diane, in her sleep, it was a moment of respite from her carefully constructed plan, a brief surrender to the simple comfort of being held.

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rk-ceres · 11 months ago

Text

Pretty Girl- George Weasley

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader (Season of love event) Fred Weasley x Reader(platonic)

Timeline: 6 months after the battle of Hogwarts

Summary: Reader gets injured in the war saving Fred's life, after the war she wakes up six months later and falls in love with George who has been taking care of her loooooooooooonggggggg ass fic. had an idea and ran with it mutual pining (strangers to)/friends to lovers I just thought this idea was cute

Warnings: no use. of y/n or y/h/n its just ____, written in first person, crass language, some dirty jokes here and there, nothing physical, slow burn, !FRED LIVES!, reader is a flirt, mentions of death in the war, reader looses a leg in the war, George takes on care taker role for Fred after he gets injured after he was saved by reader, and any others i missed

A/N: decided to take a stab at the season of love event that one of my favorite writers are hosting right now and half way through i really wished i made this a series but i guess this works better as a long one shot with room for more parts. Theres just so much you can do with this imho but it is what it is sorry for the long ass read it was just too much fun to write this ended to where i could add on parts if i really wanted too so if it seemed unfinished i dunno 🤷‍♀️

My eyes fluttered open and hissed at the light in the room everything hurt groaning out in pain as i sat up “oh good.. youre awake. I was getting pretty lonely being in here the only one conscious” Fred called out to me as i rubbed the eye that wasn't covered in gauze “not to be rude or anything but where am i?” i asked moving my hand to rub the back of my neck feeling the popping groaning in some relief throwing a leg over the bed “whats the last thing you remember?” He asked looking at me i rolled my eyes yawning out “I was fighting back to back with one of Percy’s twin brothers… i found him after…. After Penny died…im not sure which twin i was fighting with… i didnt have the time to pick out the differences. Or ask… we were outnumbered ten to three… the minister of magic came in Percy made a god awful joke…. Which we all shared there was an explosion that flew me and the twin i was with against eachother before the wall could come down on us i put up a shield…. And then everything went black” he shifted on to his side “it was me, you saved me.” He smiled “youre Fred?” i asked finally looking at him taking in his broadening smile obviously thrilled that he had someone to talk too “yeah. Im Fred. And to answer your question, youre in George’s bed. We’re at my flat in the shop” he explained “what am i doing in George’s bed in your flat in your shop?" i made a confused face "i know i didn't fall asleep after an intense love making session after a night in the pub so forgive me i am a little confused" i huffed "no. you didn't sleep with my brother. not yet anyway" he rolled his eyes speaking in an amused voice “youre in his bed because after you saved me. The ground gave way under you. And you fell through three floors of the castle, you scratched your face on the rebar on your way down. It missed your eye by a centimeter. I carried you to Pomfrey, You were in a coma for about five months almost six. I insisted that id be the one to help you recover and with your physical therapy after you saved my life. My Fiancėe Angelina would’ve taken care of your injuries for me since you know… im a guy and youre a chick. Then i went and got myself blown up by Bellatrix trying to save my sister… I failed her and now? we’re in the same boat. George turned his room into our recovery room since its the biggest of the two. Angel even agreed to it. Shes really grateful to you. She and mums been taking care of your chest wound seeing as how youre a woman, George handles your eye and… and your leg.” he smiled filling in the details. “What do you mean my leg? physical therapy?” i asked confused furrowing my eyebrows pulling the blanket off of my waist i looked down at my legs to see my right leg had been amputated above the knee “Madame Pomfrey had to take it before you succumbed. Part of the wall fell on it and it was irreparable. I killed the death eater that did that to you” my eyes started to water breathing heavily because it looked like it was so close to killing me i was relieved that i was still alive "love... hey… calm down its okay” he tries to stand but winces falling back to his bed when a loud sob wracks through my lips “shit… GEORGE! GET IN HERE GEORGE NOW!” He yelled suddenly bursted through the door “she just woke up” he told his twin she started to dry heave he wordlessly pulled me into his chest “shhhhh youre okay love its okay.. youre safe.. youre safe.. Pretty girl youre safe.. Percy sat in here with you for two months straight” he cooed they stayed like that as he comforted me when i finally composed myself enough i pulled back slightly “thank you” i whispered to him “sorry for ruining your nice shirt… i didnt.. i didnt mean to George” i said louder scooting back to leab my back against his headboard “dont worry about that beautiful, its just tears. im sorry you found out that way” he said softly kneeling by the edge of the bed

“Fred was supposed to WAIT to tell you.” He glared at his twin he smiled sheepishly “I didnt expect her to pull her blanket off!” Fred defended himself “that’s enough out of you Fred” he hissed “im George” he smiled at her gently "______ Barebone, I was a ______…" thinking back to my house in school "in your year. Friends with your brother he dated my best friend” “Penny” we said together and i smiled “youre sitting up on your own. Thats a good thing.” He smiled gently at me “is it alright if i checked your eye?” i bit my lip and nodded at him gently. “Can i borrow your owl to write Percy? I want to make sure he’s alright, we both lost Penny" i said barely audible “of course Pretty Girl let me just finish up here i'll get you parchment and a quill when mum and Ange get here” he chuckled He unwrapped the bandage on her face i hissed at the dull pain in my left eye “good… good love, dilation is good. Can you follow my finger for me?” He asked softly “you're tracking well with your left eye sweetheart.” He mumbled he softly covered my right eye with his palm “can you see anything lovely?” He asked “I see your nose… but its blurry” clearly unaffected by his testing of pet names and terms of endearment he smiled “it looks like the cuts on your face will scar but Fred and I developed a cream that’ll make it go away in a month if you want to use it. I dont have to put the bandage back on… Is it okay if I check your leg?” He asked being extra aware with me being awake and aware of everything he got consent before making physical contact and i nodded not minding the physical contact he slowly cut away the bandages “any pain?” he looked up at me with his green eyes “just my side” i whispered “yeah, Fred and Percy said you hit a lot of rebar going down after the wall. I’ll let mom and Ange know to up your healing regimen on your side" he sighed looking back at my leg "so wanna tell me why im in your bed and not in St Mungo's right now?" i asked "y'know men usually take girls out to dinner before having their way them in their bed... with their brother watching... never been one for exhibitionistm you know" i teased he snorted "that'd be the voyeur's fault" George winked pointing back to Fred teasingly "thanks for saving him by the way. don't worry Madame Pomfrey stops by every two weeks and she trained both me and Mum to take care of your daily needs. You're in good hands Angel" He added “incision looks good, you can start using the wheel chair youre a little ways away from getting a prosthetic” he smiled “George dear its time to change her….” “Shes up mum” George smiled “I’ll come back in a few minutes with lunch and your potions. I’ll send a quick Owl to Percy as well” He stood up after wrapping her leg then leaving the room giving the women privacy

ଘ(∩^o^)⊃━☆:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ

“Afternoon love. You look stunning today” Fred smiled when Angelina gave him a lingering kiss "get a room Voyeur" i stuck my tongue out at Fred he let out a fake offended gasp at me "excuse me ma'am, YOU'RE the one watching ME doesn't that make you the voyeur" he protested "well look at the kettle calling the cauldron black" i retorted "ooh you're just as annoying as..." Molly quickly cut him off before he could mention Ginny pulling the divider so he couldn't see her disrobing “heavens Angelina you're fine shes awake” Molly smiled “Molly Weasley love, ive been taking care of your side. Angies been helping while you were under” she smiles at me "_____, but George has been calling me Love, Pretty girl, Beautiful, Sweetheart, Angel... basically any pet name he can think of. quite endearing" i said with a small smile taking off the hospital gown they put me in “im Angelina, I wanted to thank you for saving my Fiancé” she gently taking off the bandages on my chest “it wasnt an issue I think he returned the favor and then some seeing as how he got blown up just seconds after i saved his behind” i chuckled glaring through the divider "I HEARD THAT BRATT! its not my fault that Bellatrix was a crazy witch out for blood" Fred protested "i fell through three floors for you. i get to have this!" i protested back “he didnt have to do much convincing. George was going to ask you to Yule ball, and any one who keeps that dingleberry alive is a friend in my book” Angie smiled breaking up the sibling squabble we were having “lift your arms for us?” Molly asked when Angelina finally got the bandage off “he was going to ask me to the ball?” I asked wincing when my arms came up armpit height dropping them slightly “ive got you girl” Angelina caught my arms and lifted so Molly could repair the split skin “yeah, he was. George wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks then McClaggen beat him to it. Sulked for weeks on end” Angie shook her head in amusement "he wouldnt stop moaning about it either" Fred chimed in "he was worse than moaning Myrtle" you could hear the disgust and teasing in his voice “thats sweet. He probably would’ve been a better choice. McClaggen was an arse” i smiled “your cut seems to be healing well, looks like you still have that infection. I’ll add the antibiotics back into your medicine” Molly smiled as she wrapped the bandage back around my chest taking down the divider again Fred promptly flipped me off where i just stuck my tongue out at him again

“Alright George, Fred, we’ll be off” Molly smiled “see you later love, have a good day at work. mum” Fred kissed Angie “call if you need anything George” Angelina smiled he nodded “Take these” George handed her the potions he sat on his bed next to her as he held the empty ones and handed me the full potion phials “how you feeling Pretty girl?” “Like i fell three floors out of a castle” i gagged drinking the potions that tasted exactly like feet "ugh you think that theyd be kind to people who almost die" i choked out he chuckled “i would’ve said yes by the way” he cocked an eyebrow a me “Ange told her that you were going to ask her to Yule ball” Fred filled in “i wouldve said yes, McClaggen was a dick” i handed him the empty phials as he handed me the full bottles “we can go dancing later if you wanted too, i enjoy dancing i usually go to the muggle clubs on 5th. They have salsa nights, or ball room dancing. You know. to make up for the ball” i smiled his blush grew “i might just take you up on that when youre ready and comfortable enough on your new leg” he fell into a playful flirtation “even with one leg sir, i can out dance you” gaining a laugh from Fred “if youre already joking about having only one leg what was all that crying about?” “FRED!” George tried to scold “Honestly?” i cut him off looking to Fred “i was just glad it was my right leg. I had a bad tattoo that i had to get removed. Someone shouldve told that eater he didnt need to go THAT extreme” i jested “tattoo?” George asked “it was a swallow. It used to match my mom. honestly it really was a bad tattoo” i smiled “you think the healers would let me get a peg leg? OOH! I could even get an eye patch!” They both erupted into laughter “nah im just pulling your right legs since you know i dont have one” “alright alright stop!! It hurts to laugh dick head!” “HEY! Its peg leg to you! I dont have a dick. Or a dick head for that matter. But i will have a fake leg.” i yelled at Fred playfully he just laughed harder at that “ARG MATEY!” The three share a laugh George catches his breath “who wouldve known you were so funny” he gave her a toothy grin that turned into a closed mouth smile “i make light of bad situations. My brother, ____. He used to call me sunshine and sing this stupid muggle song ‘ive got sunshine… on a cloudy day… when its cold out side, ive got the month of May….’” i laughed “my girl. From the temptations. He used to call me sunshine” “who knew you could sing” Fred Jested “i cant. But he could” i smiled at Fred “you have a brother?” George asked “Had” i smiled “took a curse for me told me to go find mum and dad, Dad died outside the room of requirement, protecting firsties. And my mom… she was tortured near the beginning.” i smiled sadly “Ginny ended up passing too” he smiled sadly she gave him a sympathetic smile squeezing his hand “i was crying because it looked like it came this close to crushing me entirely and for some reason im still alive. Something from the grace of Merlin im alive, i was happy that im Alive” i looked at George who was looking at me with a guilty expression

“come on handsome… wheres that pretty smile you had on for me i worked hard for that you know. Im not a good flirt. I was hoping youd lead, and hopefully ask me to dinner or coffee if i played my cards right. Its not every day someone as pretty as you are is willing to take care of me to laugh with me or at me” i reached up to his face he leaned into my touch chuckling completely red in the face “im okay, we four knew what was going on and what was at risk im okay. Promise.” i smiled softly at him he smiled “Handsome huh?” “You called me beautiful when im obviously a mess.” i shrugged he started smiling again she noticed his dimples and the way his cheeks creased and my face heated up “theres my pretty smile… you have really really pretty eyes… and dimples…. Did i mention i have a thing for guys with dimples.” i smiled rubbing a thumb on his cheek he looked down and back up to my eyes trying to find the right words “youre pretty even if youre a mess” he smiled softly “yep thats it. Ive decided. Youre the handsome twin.” “HEY!” Fred protested “take that!” George smiled laughing at triumphantly like that was an argument theyve had multiple times Fred who was pouting crossing his arms over his chest “youre the nicest twin” She smiled at Fred “acceptable” he smiled at me “im going to get your lunches” he smiled to them “thank you. Can i use your owl again? I need to owl gringots. Get some money for rent and food and care” i muttered to myself “no need. All taken care of” Fred said “you saved me. You dont pay for shit when in our care” he shrugged ending the conversation “do you really want a peg leg?” Fred asked out of the blue “i’ll take what i get.” i shrugged. “At least let me help with groceries” i huffed annoyed “once a month” George bargains “Zero times and shes happy about it” Fred protests “Three times but i let you pay for my prosthetic” she countered “no times, we pay for the prosthetic and she gets what she wants at the shop” fred demanded “we pay for your prosthetic, twice a month, you transfigure your own room, personal care supplies fully yours” George offered “thats a deal i can live with… did you just ask me to move in with you without you asking me out on a date first? When can i expect a proposal? Or should i ask Percy to bring Kingsley and skip to ‘I do’” i smiled at George and he flushed 50 shades of red as Fred snickered “you say youre not good at flirting but this is the third time youve rendered Georgie here speechless” Fred laughed she looked at Fred as he looked back at her “i cant help it i almost died, and lifes too short for me to keep being shy. Theres a first for everything right? Who wouldve known the first man outside of Percy and you i try to actually talk too would flirt with me. He could be my first love, my first actual relationship maybe. He could be my husband one day. Quit butting in youre ruining my shot i dont know how many of these i have you know. Mangled face and peg leg. I wanna get it right the first time! Who knows. Maybe if i flirt enough i’ll get him to fall completely head over heels in love with half of a girl i used to be Perc always told me to put myself out there. What a better time then now?” i shrugged Fred laughed “im not butting out Maam we share a room! Theres no possible way for me to butt out your business IS my business! And with the way youre going Love" Fred called out the way George would say it "he’ll be in love with you by the end of the week” Fred snickered George just shrugged “i had a crush on you in 5th year.” He looked at me it was my turn to be rendered speechless “you wont have to work too hard to make me fall for you Pretty Girl we're already half way there” he shrugged leaving the room leaving me speechless

°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩°。⋆˚⁺⁺˚⋆。°✩₊✩☆━(╹-╹’’)

A month had passed Fred was able to start his Physical therapy and Molly wasnt coming by daily anymore “FUCK!” Fred screamed “come on Freddie you can do it!” i cheered him on from my seated position on the bed “it feels like my insides are going to spill out” He whimpered clinging to Georges shoulder “two more steps Freddie. Just have to make it to the chair” George encouraged “FUCK FUCK” he groaned “almost there Freddie youve got this!” He slowly took another step as i cheered him on "come on Freddie boy make that chair your bitch" i teased he looked at her and smiled “thanks love.” He smiled taking another step reaching the chair “alright good good sit rest. We’ll go back to bed in 5” he smiles at his twin George looked at me with a smile “time to check my stump handsome?” i looked up to George “yes pretty girl. Time to check your leg, and your eye” he smiled i removed the blanket hissing as she moved further up the bed and turning to throw my leg off the side he sits in the stool next to the bed “any pain?” He asked as he looked at my eye with the flash light “just my side. I think your mom said it was an infection again. Apparently my core isnt strong enough to battle muggle infections.” i shrugged “follow my finger” i watched his finger as he moved it “sometimes it feels like my leg is still there and and its like a sharp pain. But its not there and its weird” i talk as he covers my right eye “i can see your face” i smile at him “she woke up screaming last night” Fred said to the air “she said she was fine her leg just hurt” “why didnt i hear the scream?” He asked as he unwrapped the leg “she casted a muffelito on the room before she fell asleep” Fred ratted her out “tattle tail” i stuck my tongue out at him “brat” he hissed back “Baby!” She teased “toddler!” He yelled back “you have crappy hair!” i crossed my arms over my chest “TAKE THAT BACK!” Fred yelled “MAKE ME YOU CRIPPLE!” George laughed at the banter "PEGLEG!" he stuck his tongue out at me "you two are toddlers" George rolled his eyes “i… have nightmares. I didnt think it was an issue” i said as he looked at the leg “youre healing fast. Should be able to take the staples out soon, we’ll call madame Pomfrey to come fit you for a prosthetic. Tell me if this hurts” he said as he gently massaged my thigh above the stump i gasped as he gently squeezed “feels great” i said breathily “teach me” i whispered to him he smiled as i placed my hands over his he looked back down putting his hands over mine as he moved my fingers showing me how to ease the pain of the lost leg “it wont hurt forever…” he said softer i smiled at him “thank you George for doing this for me” i looked down “hey. Its handsome to you, Pretty girl, you saved Fred. Its the least I can do.” He kissed the top of my head “youre the kindest person I have ever met… and id get myself crushed over and over again if it meant I got to meet you all over again George. You’re making me fall for you. Is this one sided? Dont make me out to be a fool” i whispered in his ear gently kissing his cheek, his eyes widened in shock at the forwardness and tenderness this girl had for him they’ve only known each-other for about three months at this point he cleared his throat taking his hands off her leg “he's blushing like an idiot again! what did you say to him!” Fred who was watching intently with a bag of crisps “did you accio a bag of crisps?" i furrowed my eyebrows “its not every day i have a front row seat to my brothers love life. There i answered yours now answer mine” Fred rolled his eyes “I told him I thought he has pretty eyes” i fibbed they both know i did he raised an eye brow at me George still staring with red on his cheeks i shrugged

“i didnt lie. He’s…." i blushed looking down “nevermind” i turned over in bed facing the wall he leans over placing a hand on my hip gently and kisses my cheek “youd never be the fool when im with you. Its not one sided. Im the fool love made a whole career out of it. But im also a fool falling in love with the sweetest most beautiful woman I’ve ever met and I’m the lucky one to get to take care of her” he whispered into my ear he pushes off the bed “WAIT WHAT DID HE SAY!!!” Fred groaned eating another crisp “thats for her to know. And you to find out NEVER” George said walking toward him “Come on Fred, lets get back to bed” George hoisted him up after putting the crips off to the side “i was eating those!” He pouted “sod the crisps you need to do this pt!” George yelled gaining a laugh from _____. A month had passed since then, “Afternoon Pretty girl, I need to check your stump” he smiled setting my plate of food on the dresser “we can get Pomfrey in here to measure you for your leg soon. And your physical therapy with Fred and I” i smiled back “can you massage my leg handsome? Its starting to hurt again….” i whispered “alright love, just for a little” he smiled she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror i frowned as Fred met my eyes mood immediately dropping “I gotta get down to the shop before Lee bites my head off.” He smiled at me and i returned it “have a good day at work Handsome” “thank you pretty girl” he smiled when the door closed my smile faded as i stared into the mirror tears formed in my eyes Fred looked at her concerned “you okay Love?" Fred whispered “I miss my brother” i sniffled “he always knew what to say” “well im not your brother but im in need for a sister… if youre in need of a brother… i think we both qualify to fill each others open positions yeah?” He asked i turned to him looking at him with tears in my eyes “teach me what to say, let me be your brother love" He looked at me with gentile eyes

“tell me im deserving pf love even if im broken and ugly” i mumbled he was taken aback he took in a breath and smiled “love, you’re gorgeous, George sees how pretty you are and youve got him whipped. You deserve him and the love he wants to give you trust me” hours passed when George walked in with our dinners light sniffles could be heard from the other side of the room my back was turned to him he looked to Fred who just gave him a tight lipped smile and walked to the other side of the room after handing him his plate he set mine down next to my un-touched lunch plate on the bed side table “hey pretty girl…. What’s wrong… you in pain?” i shook my head no “what’s wrong beautiful, tell me what’s the matter how can I make you smile again?” He cooed softly “Dont lie to me” my voice hoarse like i had been crying for hours he reached to wipe away a tear ”what do you mean I’ve never lied to you Beautiful” hurt hit me square in the chest “you just did. You always do.. mangled face, missing leg. I stare at the girl ive become all day that mirror haunts me my own reflection is a reminder that im alone. And im no longer beautiful and its sickening you dont have to keep flirting with me because you feel obligated to. No one wants someone like me. Not anymore im not pretty and im definitely not beautiful. I have no one. No ones here” i sobbed more closing my eyes sniffling “I miss my brother. He would be in this bed with me. Holding me. Telling me to cheer up sunshine the worlds cloudy and gray without you please sunshine smile for me? combing through my hair like he always did holding me together while I fall apart but hes gone. My mums gone. My dads gone. I havent slept in four months the nightmares keep coming back and I just want to cry I cant be the girl that flirts twenty four seven with a guy thats too polite to tell me that it makes him uncomfortable when this is all over im going to be alone again just let mw grieve the loss of my leg, my family, and my face. I have no where to go. All I have is an empty house my best friend died, my leg hurts twenty four seven and I just need to be sad for a few hours can you leave me alone for a few hours I’ll be normal again in the morning I dont need your pity” he continued to wipe the tears off my face as he processed what i said “im not going to stop calling you pretty, and beautiful because thats what I see when I look at you Angel, I mean look at you love…” he said softer “just look at you….. i cant take my eyes off of you… youre just too good to be true the sight of you leaves me weak there are no words left to describe how pretty you are sweetie” lifting my face in his cupped hands “youre stunning you leave me breathless, all those things you just mentioned are fixable, love, half of what you said isnt true, you really think that Fred and Angelina is going to leave you alone after youre all healed up and better? Youve got another thing coming. Theyre never going to stop you have friends. Percy’s been here every day since we owled. Fred and Angie made it clear youre their person” he smiled softly “im not letting you go either im afraid youre stuck with me you still owe me a date, and a dance” he whispered standing up and draping a blanket over the mirror i cried more as she felt the bed dip behind me he pulled me into his side one arm under my head one on my torso pulling me on my back fingers immediately going to y hair “if you needed someone to hold you. You could’ve just said so I would’ve done this ages ago if you needed it” he brushed his fingers through my hair humming softly

“and you dont have to say anything to me at all. I flirt with you because I enjoy flirting with you. You make me happy and light, you render me speechless and no one. And I mean no one can do that. But you can, thats why I do what I do you dont make me uncomfortable love. I miss Ginny too. She was a spitfire and its hard not having her around anymore, and if its alright, I want to hold you while we cry about our siblings yeah?” He asked i turned on my side draping an arm over his torso “im sorry about Ginny… her and Luna were really nice to me” i sniffled “I need you to eat for me… I’ll eat with you.” He pulled the roll off of my plate, ripping it in half handing it to me “im sorry about your brother Pretty girl" he whispered as he ate making sure i ate some of the food as well

ଘ(∩^o^)⊃━☆:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧✯:·ﾟ✧*:

A few hours later i let out a yawn d he started to get up out of bed my arm tightened around him feeling safe for the first time since ive woken up seven months ago “stay…” i said softly his shirt balling in my curled hand “please stay tonight” i whispered he let himself fall back into the bed “Darling wha… what do you mean?” He asked softly “Sleep here… in your bed…. I…. I need sleep…. And im scared to….. theyll come back and haunt me” i whispered “mate she hasnt slept in months i stay up with her as long as i can but i always pass put.” Fred piped up blush spread across my cheeks and i let him go flipping over to my other side embarrassed that i needed someone to make me feel safe enough to sleep “nevermind its stupid forget i said anything” i sniffled he simply reached over and turned out the light “i’ll stay for as long as you need me to stay Pretty girl" he kissed the top of my head again pulling me back into his chest his arm under my head curling back to put his hand in my hair other hand engulfing mine “i’ve got sunshine…. On a cloudy day….” He sung softly twirling my hair in his fingers “when its cold outside, ive got the month of may.. well i guess you say what can make me feel this way” she fell asleep holding onto his hand tightly

“George dear” Molly called out “SHHHH!” Fred said getting out of his bed hissing in pain “let them sleep for a little while longer this is the first shes sleeping since she woke up” he looked back to the girl who hid her face in his twins chest “lets go talk outside” Fred smiled one last time at them sleeping before throwing his arm over his mom and leaning on her for support as they walked out of the room shutting the door lightly

three hours later my eyes fluttered open looking at his sleeping face our lips were so close i bit my lip as his breath fanned over my face a surge of confidence emerged heart hammering against my chest i leaned up and gently pressed my lips to his, his brows furrowed as he stretched slightly pulling me impossibly close to him eyes fluttering open “i….. im sorry,. I didnt know what came over me i shouldve asked fir…” i was cut off by his lips on mine the kiss was soft and slow “goodmorning pretty girl, thank you for the amazing wake up” he murmured against my lips kissing her again “dont be sorry beautiful, ive been waiting for that” he cupped my face with his hand my face contorted in pain “thanks for staying” “i told you already baby… im here for as long as you need me to be” i let out a tear “whats the matter pretty girl? Nervous about your new leg?” He asked softly “im actually really excited for that really. Its just that my leg hurts… and its not even there anymore” i cried softly “it wont hurt forever…” he said softer “i barely have pain in my ear anymore” he smiled showing me his missing ear she reached up and stroked the hair that fell onto the hole on the side of his head “i still think youre gorgeous Georgeous if you will.. ear, or no ear youre perfect to me… so perfect and kind and caring…” i whispered as i kissed the side of his head where his ear wouldve been his eyes widened in shock at the tenderness of this moment, just for him. He chuckles “only you would make that play on words huh? so cheesy Baby" he rubs my cheek with the pad of his thumb “baby youre so beautiful, and i want you..” he whispered moving his face closer to mine “leg or no leg i think youre amazing, smart, funny, and kind. Unbelievably beautiful and i dont think you should use the cream on your scars, it shows just how strong you are they dont define you or subtract from how i see you. And i would love it, if you’d accompany me to dinner when youre able to, i’ll ask again later when you get your leg and i help you learn how to walk again i want you” he whispered softly massaging my stump as he talked my eyes widened “i guess what im saying is i need you here with me… in the flat.. with me.. everyday youre the first thing i ever want to see and talk too when i get home from the shop youre the first thing i cant wait to see when i wake up… and i need you to stay here with me? Please? I promise you i wont hurt you.. just stay with me and i’ll take care of you.. whatever you need. Angel, please ive never felt this way about anyone im in love with you Angel please... stay" he breathed out looking at me his arm snaking back up and around my waist tightening around me “im in love with you too George, and... and i want to stay with you.. you and Freddie...” i whispered he kissed me deeply it was a hungry and needy heated kiss the hand around the stump tightened as he pulled me even cliser to him putting the stump over his hip “baby i love you” looking into my eyes kissing me again

@george-weasleys-girl

#george weasley #george weasleyxreader #george weasley x fem #george wealsey imagine #season of love event #wizarding war injuries #fred and george #weasley twins

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gretavanmoon · 5 months ago

Text

an omnipresent force• ch 2

Chapter 2- DARK ENIGMA

Jake x reader (we'll get there... I promise)

Words: 12.4k

A/N: Semi-AU// Set six years in the future, the world has decided to cast humankind aside, starting with the poisonous entities that are destroying her the most.

Warnings: Dystopian Horror Cursing, Smoking, Mention of Drugs, Feelings of Fear and Uncertainty, An Apocalyptic World, Hunting, Violence (mention of firearms), Kidnapping, Wounds and Pain, Blood, Death & Dying, Burials, Lying, Deceit, Sadness, Panic Attacks, Use of Restraints, Mentions of Sex

Cheatham County, Tennessee

Five days later

Y/N

The old wood of the rocking chair squeaks beneath me as I gently move my body back and forth, snuggling into my thick afghan wrapped around my body. There is a light dusting of snow on the ground, and I’d spent the majority of the evening out here on the porch, taking in the scene of my grandparents’ farmland before me. The lead in the pencil I’ve been writing with all evening is starting to dull, but I press a little harder to get the last few sentences written down into my journal.

December 29, 2030

Day five back at Pap and Gran’s farm. We didn’t do much today except peel some potatoes and boil chicken for broth. Gran’s state has deteriorated since we made it back here. Paps and I truly thought that maybe bringing her back to her home would make her feel better, but she’s only gotten worse. Part of me thinks that she might have just wanted to find her peace here, in her own home, in her own surroundings before she decides it’s okay to let go. Awful of me to think that, isn’t it?

I miss my Mom. And I miss my dad, and I really, really miss my brother. Having nearly no time to mourn them has truly put me in a weird headspace, I don’t know how I’m making it day to day. Sometimes I think back to that fear I felt when I first realized I had to get the hell out of my house when I found the faultline in my foundation, that feeling that it could all come crashing down on me at any second, burying me in walls and furniture and drywall to the point I can’t breathe… That’s what this feels like. Like I’m standing in my basement again, just waiting for the whole thing to crush me.

The only thing that is keeping me going is Paps and Gran. And the fact that if I stop, then they stop. And Gran is already slowing to a crawl.

I pull out my pocket knife from my pants, opening the blade and sharpening the graphite in my pencil a bit before licking the tip, and getting back to work.

I’ve lost nearly 16 pounds, and my hair feels so thin. I can feel my muscles starting to wear out, and the joints of my bones are beginning to ache. Lack of nourishment, I guess. But I don’t let it stop me, and neither does Paps. We are still getting up at the crack of dawn every single morning to look for roaming wildlife to catch. Thankfully we were able to get our hands on six chickens, a rooster, a goat, and the neighbor’s old Blue Heeler, Hank. Hank sits by my Gran’s side day in and day out… I think he remembers that she used to throw him scraps out into the front yard.

The strangest thing happened to me yesterday, and I feel embarrassed to even admit it in this stupid journal.

For the first time in months, I got the overwhelming urge to want to fuck.

I wish I could write that in invisible ink like we used to do in text messages, yikes. But, I guess I have to realize that I am still a living, breathing woman who still goes through her monthly cycles, and still possesses the urges associated with it all. God, I fucking laughed out loud at myself. I haven’t seen another man close to my own age since we left Nashville and I saw a group of young people throwing a cinder block through the front glass of a coffee shop. For fucks sake I’m so embarrassed.

But I actually even dreamed about it last night. Real, true, romping sex in some strange place… it was so real that I woke up in a cold sweat with my heartbeat between my legs. Shit. I don’t even know who it was with, but that part didn’t matter. I used to love those pointless, carnal dreams that made you blush in your sleep. But damn, now? That’s as close as I’m probably ever gonna get.

I had to spend the rest of the day fighting the flashbacks while spending time with my literal grandparents. Ignoring the fact that I used to daydream about it, then make a phone call to whoever, and make it happen. It used to be so easy. Shit, I miss random hookups. Fucking hell.

Now I’m spending my days collecting freshly laid eggs before a pack of wild dogs come and kill my chickens. Goddamnit.

ANYWAYS.

Tomorrow is my 33rd birthday. And I don’t even care. It feels silly to even think that even though the world is pushing me off the literal land I stand on, I still have to age. I still have to deal with being a human. And mourn the loss of my family. What the fuck. Just lost the last of my immediate kin, I’m digging up last season’s potatoes from the ground and nursing my sweet Gran as she lies in her bed in pain, and I’m having sex dreams. Really, really fucking good sex dreams. If I could roll my eyes with paper and pencil, I’d be doing it right now. The human experience is so fuc

My thought process is stopped when I hear the sound of something I haven’t heard in literal days. Weeks? I don’t know… But I hear it, the faint sound of a tune and a melody coming through an old, staticy speaker. I close my pencil into my journal and stand, realizing I’d been sitting outside for a while now as the stars had become bright and the moon sat high in the sky.

My brow furrows as I listen harder. It’s Billie Holiday. I push the front door open and enter the warm house, firstly noticing the crackling fire that Paps had kept burning all day. I then saw him standing in the dimly lit corner, fiddling around with his old vinyl records and adjusting the volume of the music. The wall behind him is stuffed full of records, floor to ceiling and two shelves wide… all full of the music he filled mine and James’ lives with since the time we could walk. He’d been collecting his entire life. Truly, I owe my love of music to him.

“Paps…” I say softly as I enter the living room.

“Hey youngin’, sorry if I disturbed ya…” he said, puffing some pipe tobacco smoke up into the air. I used to tell him he needed to quit, but now… what’s the use?

“You didn’t, Paps.”

“I sorta… forgot that music exists,” he chuckled, opening the cover of a Bill Monroe album and inspecting the inside.

I place my hand on his back, giving him a few pats as I lay my head against his shoulder, watching the record spin on his antique hand-crank phonograph. “I kinda did too, actually,” I reply, admitting it to myself. “What made you pick Lady Day?”

He shrugs. “Not sure. Always loved her voice, hated it when she passed. She left one hell of a legacy, though, huh? Your Gran sure loved her, that’s for sure,” he mumbles on, looking back to the daybed we had set up for Gran in the living room so she could be closer to the heat of the fireplace.

“Love her, Don. Not loved. I ain’t dead yet,” we both hear Gran stir from under her blankets. The both of us erupted in a fit of laughter at her unbridled and filterless sense of humor.

“Hell’s fire, Jane. Didn’t think you’d be able to hear us,” my Paps laughs as he places the cover back down on the table and goes to join her at her side. I follow behind. “Did we wake you?”

“You did, but that’s okay. No better way to be woken up from a dreamless sleep than by some pretty music,” she says, propping herself up on her pillows. She still has so much strength, and though she’s weakening by the day, I’m still astounded by her ability to get up and even walk herself to the restroom. “And!” she boasts with her crooked finger in the air. “No way I wanted to miss my favorite granddaughter’s birthday when the clock strikes twelve,” she adds with a reassuring nod.

“Gran, you don’t need to stay up this late! It’s almost midnight now, go back to sleep,” I push her, not wanting to miss one second of any rest she can get, while also wishing that she and Paps could sit up and reminisce with me until the sun comes up. I’d give anything to have just one more hour with my parents and James.

“Oh, child, I’m fine!” she pushes my hands away, pulling herself back up. “You’ve gained another year. This day and age, that means something, you know?” Her voice is weak, but she still sounds like herself, her southern drawl coming out to play as she tries to fluff the pillows behind her.

I nod in understanding. “If you say you want to stay up, we’ll stay up!”

There really isn’t such a thing as a true bedtime, anymore. I’m up at strange hours of the night, take many naps throughout the day… time doesn’t matter, aside from the rooster reminding us of when the sun is about to come up every morning.

But we still set the clock, and we’ll change the batteries. The Grandfather clock against the back wall reminds us of each hour, every day. And how lucky we still are to have each and every one, no matter how long they drag us on.

Gran taps her fingers along to ‘Love Me or Leave Me’ as Paps sings quietly along, and I place a few new logs onto the fire to keep it burning. The smell of this house has always stuck out to me– matured wood, the scent of the barn wafting through the cracked windows, the Murphy’s Oil Soap that Paps was always obsessed with cleaning the floors with… it’s all still stuck here, unmoving in time. Just like the photos on the walls, the dinnerware filling the shelves, and the wall that’s covered in pencil markings and dates, marking mine, James’, and my father’s height growth over the years.

It’s all still here, exactly where they left it. Exactly where they carved things into the load-bearing beam that runs the span of the house. The wearing in the wood of the floor where Gran stood for fifty some odd years in front of the stove cooking meals. The screen door that hangs haphazardly on the front door, the screen ripped and aging as it served its purpose keeping the flies out of the house for however many summers.

A time capsule. And by god, were the three of us overjoyed when we pulled up and found it not sitting at the bottom of a sinkhole.

“Have you got any Sinatra?” my Gran asks, pulling me from my deep-thought trance as the Billie record spins now, without any sound.

“Of course, sweetheart,” Paps agrees as he stands to replace the record, knowing that he’d give my Gran anything she could ever ask for, just like he always had.

He makes his way back over to his setup and finds exactly what he’s looking for, switching the vinyl out and putting the needle back down. Gran tilts her head back onto her pillows as she hears Frank’s voice come over the crackly violin sounds.

“Ol’ Blue Eyes,” she mutters before sitting back up and grabbing at my hands. “You know, Y/N, I didn’t always love music, it was your grandfather’s doin’ that got me to fall in love with it.” Much like he did for me, actually. “Of course I’d go to the dances at the school and I knew a few songs here and there, but it was when I met him that I truly found my love and appreciation for it.”

“He’s had that effect on us both, then, hasn’t he!” I jest, smiling and squeezing at her frail hands. We both glance at him still standing by his collection, eyeing the spines of the covers and pulling them out to look over. I truly did owe a lot to him, he taught me more about artists than I could have ever taught myself. Older ones, especially. He knew the stories that were never recorded in interviews and tabloids. He knew, because he kept them all in the back of his mind as if they were his own family stories.

“That man got me to follow the Dead around for nearly six months before I told him he’d better get me back to Tennessee so I could have me a garden,” she went on, making my face warm with a grin. I’d heard the story a hundred times before, but I’d sit and listen to it a hundred times more, if time would let me.

“Oh, shoot, Jane. We had a good time,” Paps interrupted, scowling at her as he puffed his pipe.

“Didn’t say we didn’t, Don!” she pokes back, and I can tell they’re about to get into one of their little playful spats. “Your grandfather and I tried LSD for the very first time while we sat in a drum circle after a Dead show in Kansas City,” she said, her eyes wide as she still held my hands.

Now that, they’ve never shared before.

“Gran!” I exclaim, truly surprised.

“Now Jane!” Paps barks from his place.

“What?!” she replies, shrugging her bony shoulders. “It was a damned good time and I can honestly say I came back a changed woman. Nothing wrong with that, now is there? I’ve lived one hell of a life…” she trails off, earning a scoff from Paps as he waves her off. “There should be nothing stopping you from still living your life, Y/N. Do you hear me? The Earth might swallow us up, but that doesn’t mean you can’t keep running, keep on living, you understand, child?” she asks, moving her cold hands to cup my cheeks.

“‘Course I do, Gran. I promise,” I relent, and I envy her ability to speak to me with this regard, knowing that the end of her life is near.

“Good,” she pats the side of my face. “Don, how about a little acoustic for a dying old woman?”

Paps drops his shoulders. “Now Jane, do ya have to keep talkin’ that mess, or am I gonna have to make you?” he teases.

I laugh and stand to go into the kitchen as Paps makes his way over to the corner, plucking his old acoustic from its place. I re-wet Gran’s cloth in the icy water, wringing out the dripping water and returning to place it back over her chest.

Paps sits beside us on the daybed, the smoke rising from his pipe as he plucks at his strings, his feeble but strong hands re-tuning them to where it sounds best. My grandfather is, and was, a very handsome man. Strong and built like an ox. I can see why Gran followed him around chasing after the Dead for six months.

Finally he strums a perfect chord, raising his eyebrows at Gran as she smiles back at him. “Guess it’s a good thing I never got my hands on an electric, hm?” he says as he bites the end of his pipe.

Neither Paps or I have shown any signs of the rash, at all. No where. And neither of us could fathom why.

The two of us sit and listen to Paps play a plethora of familiar tunes, his fingers still agile enough to float over the strings and play little snippets of all of Gran’s favorites. I can feel Gran’s body relax as she listens to him, her mind probably floating through a million memories of watching him play over the years. He hums along a little as his eyes close on their own, listening to himself play. I swear I could sit here for days.

After a few minutes, his fingers contort and play a little more harshly, strumming out a tune that hits a nerve buried so deep within me, I almost cry right there on the spot. His very own rendition of one of my favorite songs in the world, You’re the One.

“Paps…” I murmur, almost whining.

“Hush, child, let me see if I can still pull through these chords,” he shushes me. And he does. I want to scorn him for bringing up the music that was made by my favorite band in the entire world. But then again, in later months, Greta had become one of his favorite bands, too.

“Babe, ain’t no denyin’, that I got you in my head…” he sings to Gran, making her cover her face with her hands. He plays through about half of the song before he stumbles over a note or two, and decides his hands have gotten too tired.

“How dare you, Paps. You know that struck a nerve…” I say, scowling at him.

“Oh, quiet, now. You used to walk around the house singing their songs for days on end. Watch those silly videos of them, hell. How many shows did you go to?” he asks, truly schooling me on my own obsession with that band.

“Twenty-three,” I mutter under my breath.

“How many?”

“Twenty-three! Okay?” I play along with him, the both of us knowing that he attended the last five of them with me.

We’d traveled over to Kentucky for his first time seeing them live after I’d shown him a few of their songs. He was hooked after his first play of From the Fires, ripping the album cover from my hands to read along with the lyrics. After that we moved on to Anthem of the Peaceful Army, Garden’s Gate and so on, each play enrapturing my grandfather even more than the last.

“These kids have some damned promise, that’s for sure. This is a sound I haven’t heard in ages… and their talent? Boy…” he’d said. I still remember the day I surprised him with tickets to his first show, watching him fall in just as much love with them as I was. Swaying along to their classics, singing along with the lyrics he’d learned to love. He learned their names, he learned their personalities a little. He even met a few of the friends I’d made along the way, flirting with them as we’d all stand in line before a show.

It was Paps and Gran’s travels with the Grateful Dead that inspired me to follow Greta Van Fleet around on their tours. Not for six months straight, as I had to hold down my job, but nonetheless. Twenty-three shows I went to over the course of nine years. Strange Horizons all the way up to their last tour before the world shut down. I had tickets and plans to meet up with my group of friends for a show after Greta had gotten back from Greece, but, of course that never happened.

Paps grew to love them just as much as I loved them. Love them. For so many years, they were my escape. My solid rock to land on as the headaches of daily life surrounded me. I made lifelong friends through them. Traveled to other countries to see them, with my friends by my side. I watched them grow into men, as I had grown into a woman right alongside them. Watched them evolve, grow, and retreat into silence before exploding back onto the scene with something brand new and fresh, roping me right back into their world. Obsessing over every little detail they fed us. Digging deeply into the meanings of songs, and discussing all the lore with my cohorts on social media. I can account many of my life’s milestones to at least one song of theirs.

Now, when I find the world more quiet than it ever has been in my lifetime, I find myself reminiscing on those times, some of the best times of my life with that band, and my friends that felt more like family. I catch myself humming their songs, just trying to keep myself centered and rooted to the earth as it literally is falling apart beneath my feet. Greta was always my solid foundation, and even during the End of Days, they hold true to that assignment.

The grandfather clock finally decides to strike midnight, signaling my 33rd birthday.

“I’m sorry we can’t celebrate like we normally would, sweetheart,” Paps says as he continues lightly strumming.

“It’s okay, Paps. Just having the two of you still here with me is celebration, enough.” And I truly mean that. I watch as Gran’s sullen eyes fill with tears as she watches the two of us, and I know I’d give anything to keep the two of them alive as long as I possibly could. But her rash is worsening by the day, and Paps and I can tell that though she puts on a tough exterior, she’s suffering inside.

Gran had fallen back asleep peacefully to the sound of Paps’ acoustic, and we covered her up and threw another few logs onto the fire to last us a few more hours, at least. Paps kisses my forehead after he places his guitar back on its stand in the corner, wishing me a happy birthday as we both retreat to our beds.

+++

The next morning, I wake to myself shivering; Paps and I both must have slept through the night without waking up to tend to the fire. I stretch my muscles and rub my eyes, but I’m instantly startled by the sound of someone coughing. I throw on my robe and slippers and rush to the living room, finding Gran sitting up in her bed, coughing terribly. Paps and I are by her side in seconds, asking her what she might need to get through the fit, but she just shakes her head.

Her skin is cold and gray, and it looks as though her muscles are shaking uncontrollably. She’s almost completely covered in the rash, now.

“Do you want to get in the tub, Jane? Do you need to get in the water?” Paps begs of her, kneeling by the bedside.

She shakes her head more. “No,” she chokes out. Her throat sounds scratchy and dry and we offer her water, but that, too, she rejects. Finally her coughing subsides and she relaxes back, and Paps and I share a knowing look. A look that we’ve both shared three times, when everyone else finally succumbed to the rash.

This is so fucking unfair. Why don’t I have the rash?! Why can’t I take this pain away from her? Why am I not suffering, too?!

“I’m ok Don. I’m ok,” she mutters, her voice barely her own.

We both sit there with her for hours, until the sun is noting midday. We hold her hands, caress her face, talk to her, tell her stories… anything to get her to pass with as much comfort as we can. She coughs, still, but each time she begs us to carry on with talking to her. I watch as my grandfather finally sheds a tear, wiping it free from his face as he sniffles through it.

“Don’t you dare cry for me, Don,” Gran says. “We’ve had a beautiful life together. Beautiful… family,” she struggles to breathe. My chest feels heavy, too, with the overwhelming amount of sorrow it’s holding. I want to throw my fist into the wall, curse everything that has ever lived. I feel a rage building up in my stomach, one that is beginning to burn with so much fury that when it finally awakens, I’m not sure I’ll be able to contain it.

“I love you, I love you both…”

And with one small exhale, she ceases to breathe any more.

We both allow ourselves time to weep at her bedside for a minute or two before I finally stand and open the windows, uncaring of how it will chill the house. I wanted to let her soul be free.

+++

It took me about three hours to dig my grandmother’s grave, as the ground was hard from the cold and one shovel can only dig so fast. Hank the heeler was by my side the whole time, sitting and watching guard as I threw the shovels of dirt into a neat pile. I insisted Paps let me do it alone, and he spend a little bit of time with her to say his goodbyes.

It was cathartic, really, putting my body through physical grunt work as I let the tears fall freely. I wept for her, for the rest of my family, for the heartbreak of my grandfather. But mostly, I cried for myself. I shouldn’t have, it felt selfish to, but I had hardly allowed myself any time to feel sorry for me. Fuck, a person can only take so much. My heart was already broken into a thousand pieces, but the numbness of the past few months had shielded my ability to listen to myself. My body somehow must have felt the need to get it out, so that I could put a brave face on for Paps. He’d need me to. So, as a rare bit of bright sunlight came down and scorched my arms, breaking through the freezing cold wind, I allowed myself to cry again.

It’s almost sunset, now, and Paps had wrapped Gran up in a few white sheets, topped with a pretty lace tablecloth that she had woven many years ago. It used to cover the dining room table, but it did seem fitting for it to be with her, now.

I give Paps a sweet smile as I make my way into their bedroom, sitting on her old chest as I open the top drawer of her armoire. There, arranged still so neatly, was all of her expensive jewelry that she hardly ever wore. Gold bracelets, diamond rings, emerald-encrusted pieces… all if it is so precious, so valuable, and so completely worthless.

I take a second to collect it all up and slip it into a canvas drawstring bag, making sure first to keep just one piece out for myself. She’d have wanted me to, I’m positive of it.

A sterling silver ring topped with the prettiest piece of deep blue turquoise. Her grandmother had given it to her many years ago, and she only ever wore it to special occasions, but it fits perfectly on my middle finger. And if I wanted something to remember my grandmother by, it would most definitely be this.

I go back into the living room and gently grab my grandmother’s cold, bruised hands, replacing each piece of precious jewelry onto her fingers and wrists wherever I can fit them, stacking them one on top of the other.

“Should we add her books, Paps?” I manage to ask.

He shakes his head solemnly. “No, might be best to keep things like that above ground…”

Paps and I make our way out to the barn as dusk falls, and I light the few candles he has placed around on the shelves and tables. It’s dilapidated but in a good way; the walls and ceiling showing wear of many, many years of hard work. I watch as Paps grabs up one of the candles and walks to a swing door I’d never really noticed before, using some force to pull it open and propping it with a cut of a two-by-four. My eyes take a second to adjust to the darkness as he walks further inside the room, illuminating the space. There in the center of the small room is a pine box casket.

“Paps, what in the world? When did you…?” I breathe, walking closer to it. I notice that it has my grandmother’s name carved right in the top, the letters painted in black.

“About fifteen years ago, I’d say. Jane and I always said we wanted to be buried right here on the farm, when our times came. Guess we never told you kids about that. Your parents knew, a’course, but we never dreamed they’d go before us…”

Paps pulls his blue handkerchief from his back pocket and wipes his nose, his eyes still dripping with remnant tears.

“It looks really good, Paps. You did a great job,” I commend him, but he pays no mind. Instead he blows across it, relieving some of the old sawdust from its home on the lid. He pulls the top open and inspects it again, pulling a few pieces of straw from the inside.

“Help me get it over to the site?” he asks, and I realize I’d never even asked him where he wanted me to dig the grave. I just picked the prettiest place that I could. Something tells me he would have picked the same place, too. “Under the willow?” he asks.

Great minds.

“Under the willow.”

We lower the casket onto the wheelbarrow and roll it across the back yard and along the fenceline, right beside the weeping willow tree. It was Gran’s favorite place to come and lie in the grass with a book. Hank walks alongside us, his snout on guard for any wild packs that may be a threat to us.

Together, we lower the pine box into the hole I’d dug, making sure it was level at the bottom. “Want me to go get her?” I ask.

“I’ll get her,” he responds as he takes off back toward the house. The wind is whipping my hair across my face, now, as the stars are beginning to show themselves, and I can’t stop myself from crying again. This shouldn’t be happening. I shouldn’t be standing beside a grave I just dug, with a casket my grandfather built, watching his back walk across the tall grass to retrieve the body of the love of his life. This shouldn’t. Fucking. Be. Happening.

In the moonlight, I finally see the figure of him coming back through the shadows with her in his arms. I silently thank the heavens above that he is a strong man, still yet, with more brute strength than any man his age should have. Just like James.

I help him lower her inside, but not before the both of us place kisses on either of her cheeks. I work to cover her back up with dirt as he stands behind, Hank begging his hand for a pet.

“You wanna say a few words?” I ask him as I throw the last shovelful of dirt on top, wiping a hand across my cold-sweat forehead.

He takes a quick, chopped breath. “Sixty-two years wasn’t nearly enough with you, sweetheart. Won’t ever be enough. Thank you for every single laugh, every single tear, every single argument and happy moment. Thank you for our beautiful children, and grandchildren, and thank you for filling my heart with more joy than any man should have the privilege of havin’. You sure made my life worth livin’. Give ‘em hell up there in heaven, Janie. I know ya will. I love ya to the moon.” He sniffles again as he gives in to Hank’s requests, finally leaning down and wrapping a strong arm around the dog. I sidestep and wrap my arm around him, too, and we stand there in the wind until we can’t stand any more.

JAKE

“RRRUHHHHH!” I growl loudly as I wake up from unconsciousness in a full-on panic. My eyes are shifty and dry as I work to sit myself up quickly, my hands still bound at my back. The tape is gone from my mouth now, though.

It’s dark, and it's cold, but I’m indoors. I just can’t fucking see a god damned thing.

“Hey! Help!! Can anyone hear me?!” I yell, my voice echoing hard off the walls that surround me. My voice feels dry and knotted in my throat as I try to swallow what little moisture I have in my mouth. When I get no response, I crack my neck sideways as pain sets in over my body, and not just from my arms being bound. I feel as though my legs have been hit with something hard, and my back feels like it’s bruised and sore. What the fuck? What the fuck!

“Heyyyyy! Somebody come and fucking talk to me! What do you want?!” I yell again, my heart rate flying as reality sets in that I’ve been kidnapped from the cabin. Alone.

The last thing I remember is being alone in the back of that truck, rolling around as whoever was driving had little care for it’s cargo in the back. Maybe that’s why I feel bruised and beaten. Or maybe it’s not.

Yes, alone. In the truck… six intruders… weapons… it’s all coming back now, in little spurts of memory. Where is everyone else? Where is my family? When was I brought in here? I feel bile rising in my throat as I feel a panic attack setting in, and I grind my hands against one another so as to try and free them from their ties. But it’s no use, of course. It only digs them into my skin more.

I sit in silence listening to only the sounds of my uneven breathing, trying to calm myself and make a plan of action. No time to fall into fear, Jake.

I maneuver my body around to get to the walls, standing on my sore legs to turn and let my hands run along them. There’s nothing there– no windows, no chairs or furniture. Just a box. I diligently run my hands along every one. Four walls. With nothing. Nothing but–

A door.

I turn my body to try and find a doorknob or whatever to open it, and when my hand finally grasps the spherical knob, I realize that the mother fucker is locked. Of course. I turn and slam my shoulder into it a few times to see if I can pry it, but it’s no use. “Hey! You son of a bitch! Let me out of here!” I yell again, getting mad, now.

“Quiet, Jacob,” a voice I do not recognize suddenly fills the room. My stomach drops.

I open my mouth to reply, but nothing really comes to mind. The voice is male, but distorted. Quiet? QUIET?

“Who the fuck are you? Open this door and come and talk to me!” I yell again, my body suddenly feeling like my blood is going to pulse from every orifice of my body.

There is a long pause.

“I said quiet, Jacob,” it repeats.

I grit my teeth. This voice is really pissing me off.

“I’ll be quiet when you come in here and fucking show your face!” I yell even louder this time.

There is another long pause, and finally, I hear the metallic screeching of the heavy door opening. I waste no time in trying to push through it, relying on only my hearing to know what is going on, just as I had back at the cabin. Everything is so fucking dark.

But I get nowhere. I’m stopped by my body running into two stern and sturdy men again, pushing back further into the echoey room. I nearly lose my footing, but I press forward again, determined to get through that fucking door. But they stop me again, thrashing my body back so hard I hit one of the walls. It nearly knocks the breath from me, but I catch it. “Who are you? What do you want? I want to see my fam–”

“It’d really do you good to stay fucking quiet, like we told you to.” Suddenly I feel a gloved hand cupping across my mouth, stopping me from speaking. The man’s face is close to mine, whispering in my ear as he pins me back against the wall with his other arm. “Do you understand? Can you keep your voice down?” It asks, a little more lax.

After a few seconds, I nod, but my mind doesn’t have the time to process another plan. Maybe if I cooperate, they’ll let me the fuck go. His hand slowly falls from my mouth, and I stay quiet, nothing filling the room now but my haggard and nervous breathing, again. “Who are you,” I whisper, my tone demanding.

I notice that the second man must be standing behind the one still holding me to the wall, hearing him huff a laugh under his breath. How can they fucking see me?

“Let’s just say that if you play your cards right, we’ll be your new best friends,” the man says as he releases my chest, allowing me to breathe. I hear the tear of velcro twice, realizing he must be taking his gloves off.

“I don’t need any more fucking friends. I have plenty back at home,” I bark, still gritting my teeth as I stay at a quieter level.

They laugh again. “Home? You mean the cabin you were holed up in? Barely surviving?” the man behind the first asks sarcastically.

“Home is where my family is, actually,” I bite.

“Aww, isn’t that cute,” they laugh at me again as I hear that they’re both standing, now. I should try and run again, right? But it might get me knocked unconscious again. Maybe not. Not yet.

“Little Jake Kiszka, maybe you really do have the heart of gold everyone says you have,” the first one says. “Maybe being rich and famous didn’t get to you, after all.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are you? How do you know my name?” I ask.

They both scoff again. “You’re fairly fucking famous, my guy. Lots of people know your name,” the second one blurts. My guy? Who–

“Well it’s pretty convenient that I don’t know yours, seeing as how you have me fucking tied up in a pitch black room. Can we cut the shit? Or am I gonna have to try and run again?” I ask, completely over this game. Suddenly, I don’t feel very threatened.

“You won’t get very far if you do, Jake,” the first one whispers, and I hear his boots step closer to me again, and his breath hot on my face. “Listen to me, and listen closely, okay? Are you listening?”

“Yeah, fuck, I’m listening,” I say.

“We told you to stay quiet for a reason. You’ve been captured by an outfit that’s been around for a long, long time. But you weren’t caught for just any reason,” he goes on, barely audible.

“What does that mean? What reason?” I ask.

“They’ve got reason to believe that you know.”

“Know what?” I ask, confused.

“Why the fucking world ended. Or actually, how. Your brothers, you all wrote about this, didn’t you? In your music?” he goes on, and if I wasn’t confused before, I sure as shit am now.

“What?!” I squeal, almost laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”

“Hmm-mm. They aren’t kidding. Does it feel like they’re kidding right now? No.”

“Why do you keep saying they? You are the one that’s got me locked up, right now,” I retort.

“Because we’re pretending,” suddenly the other one is in my ear. “They think we work for them. The brunt work. The dirty jobs…. Like kidnapping you,” he says.

“Listen Jake,” the other interrupts. “We know you, we know who you are. We were… we were fans of your band, back then. But these people, the ones who hired us, they trust us. And they have worse plans for you than holding you in a dark metal box with your hands tied…”

“Why me? Why did they take me?” I ask.

“Your music, your songs… you fucking predicted more about all this than you think you did,” the other explains.

Josh’s dreams.

“We didn’t predict shit, we were just writing fucking songs, we didn’t–”

“All of it is real, Jake,” the first whispers, his lips brushing my hair. “The stories you told, the worlds you built… all of it exists, and has existed for a long time.”

“I don’t get it,” I say, blinking my eyes in the darkness.

“The lyrics you wrote about, the Garden you all dreamt up… It exists. In a complete other realm.”

I damn near laugh in their faces. “You’ve got to be kidding me, right? This is a joke?”

They stay quiet for a beat. “No jokes here, Jake. Just know that more is happening than you could ever even fathom. It’s not just the end of the world here. It’s the end of the world there, too. Well, it’s about to be, if the battle is lost,” the second says.

“You’re both insane, and I’m in on some kind of prank. This is all a joke!” I argue. “We didn’t create that world...”

“No, you didn’t. But you knew about it. You wrote songs about it, didn’t you? You told tales of a Battle, wrote songs about war and peace, lyrics about the water rising, and the air so thin…”

My head is spinning. I’m getting a headache. And I could really use a fucking cigarette.

“Yeah, global fucking warming, who didn’t know about that?” I defend.

They both laugh under their breath. “Let’s just say you guys literally wrote the time and space of another world as if you’d read their history books. And, lived there alongside them.”

There’s no fucking way. This is absolutely ridiculous.

“What do you mean if the battle is lost?” I ask, the question coming from my mere curiosity.

The second crouches down in front of me again, from what I can tell. “Our world here has already begun to end, right? Technology itself is murdering us by the boatloads. The thing we created. It’s omnipresence became too much for earth to handle, started to suck away at her resources and poison her. Poison her natural way of ebb and flow. So she said fuck you humans, I don’t need you. You shall all suffer my wrath, and I’ll use the poison that you created to kill you,” his voice had gotten a little dramatic, as if he was reading a romantic tragedy.

“Okay Shakespeare, we get it,” the first says, and I can’t help but laugh a little. “Here’s the thing… the other realm is suffering, too. What happens on earth is mirrored in that realm, but the mirror isn’t a clear reflection. It’s more of a…”

“Cloudy and messy shadow of what happens in our realm,” the other says.

“Yeah, actually,” the first agrees. “It happens here, it happens there, just not the exact same way. So their world is suffering, too. But they’re going to try and stop it.”

“How are they going to do that?” I ask.

“...Have you not figured that out yet, man? Don’t you think that uh— capturing a few guys who have predicted it all to a tee so far and using them for information on what’s to come next wouldn’t be a nice and easy route for them?”

“You’re shitting me, right?” I say blankly. “You kidnapped me because they think I know what’s going to happen next after the world ends?”

“Mm, kind of. You’ve gotten it all right, so far.”

No, Josh has. Apparently.

“That and… a pretty good other reason,” the first mumbles.

“What other reason?”

“You don’t have any signs of the rash yet, do you?” the second inquires, throwing me off. How would he know that?

“No… but what’s that have to do with all of this?” I say, my mind spinning.

“You’re an immune. Just like us,” the second says with a bit of pride in his voice.

“An immune? How the fuck do we know that we just haven’t gotten it yet?” I press.

“You’ve seen how fast that shit kills people,” the first scoffs. “Don’t you think you would have at least shown a little bit of a sign of it, by now?”

He’s right. It’s been months since the first sign of the rash, killed more people than I’d like to discuss. And quickly, too. But my whole family… none of us have shown signs…how are we all so lucky?

“Maybe the earth decided that she’d keep a few of us, the ones who aren’t fucking assholes,” the second barks, earning what sounds like a slap to the chest from the first.

“I don’t think that’s how it worked, idiot,” he says. “Anyways, we’ve already spent too much time in here with you, Jake. But listen. Remember we’re all pretending. They’re going to push you, they’re going to make us push you. But we want you to know we’re on your team, even if we act like we’re not. They’re out collecting immunes as we speak, trying to put everyone into some type of commune to protect the longevity of mankind. But you’re special, because they think you know. They’re special because they’re immune. You following me?”

“When they kidnap more immunes they’ll group me with them, but treat me differently because they think I can help them, got it,” I say, catching on fairly easily, for some reason.

“Bingo,” the second clicks his tongue.

“Do the people who hired you live in the other realm, too? Like, why do they care?” I ask, feeling like I just read the plot of a fantasy novel.

“Think of it like a family intertwined between both worlds. They’re able to bounce back and forth, but they all take up space in both places. One realm can’t live without the other. That’s why they’re trying to stop the end of their world there, so they have somewhere to be if our’s ceases to exist,” the first explains.

“That’s fucking confusing,” I whisper. “If ours ceases to exist, one can’t exist without the other. Isn’t Earth already too far gone?”

“Maybe her inhabitants are almost wiped, but as a planet, she’s still got a long way to go before rejoining the cosmos. If the other realm is saved, it could power Earth enough to stop her eradication. Plus we have immunes. Earth won’t completely die, she’s just trying to do a hard restart, if that makes sense,” the second one adds. “She’s sick, and she’s trying to make herself healthy again.”

I let out a huff as I try and wrap my head around the dystopian film I’m apparently a part of now. Half of me thinks these guys are lying to me. Playing games to distract me. But then again, why would they be wasting their time?

“Play dumb, Jake. Pretend you don’t know a goddamn thing. Especially when they start to question you about what you guys wrote in this last album,” the first says, standing to his feet and putting his gloves back on, from what I can tell. “This isn’t gonna last forever, we’re going to put a stop to this.”

“You are? How?” I ask, pulling hard on the ties around my wrists.

“We are. With your help,” the second whispers. “There’s a whole group of us who plan on breaking free of this shit, we’ve just got to trust each other that we can run. Gather up the other immunes once they’re captured and create our own destinies.”

“But, if we don’t go along with them, won’t Earth completely shit out on us? If their realm dies too?” I ask.

“Catching on quickly, Jake. I’m impressed,” the first whispers. “If we recreate our own line of mankind from the immunes, everything will be okay. We just want to do it out from underneath the thumb of these selfish motherfuckers. We can do it on our own.”

The two of them turn on their heels and start to walk toward the door again, leaving me sitting in the floor. “Hey, where is my family?” I ask.

“They were assigned elsewhere. Separated all of you, we don’t know where they ended up. Sorry, man,” the second says. And within seconds they’re both gone, and I’m alone, yet again.

Y/N

I trudge back inside the house now under the cover of darkness, after having spent a few minutes outside trying to breathe and calm myself. Paps has lit a few candles inside, and I can see the warm glow of them through the windows making the house look like a jack-o-lantern. I smile a little at the thought. As I push the door open and lock it behind me, I turn and notice he’s stood by the kitchen table, a few more candles lit across it. There in front of him are two bowls of potato soup.

“Paps, this is so nice of you,” I mumble as I hang my afghan on the back of a chair. “I thought you said you weren’t up for eating tonight?”

“Your Gran would have been ticked if she knew we were too upset to feed ourselves, you know that’s a fact,” he says, pulling my chair out for me. I take a seat and I can smell the herbs he’s put into the soup.

“You’re right…” I agree. “She wouldn’t have been happy with us at all.”

“Plus, figure you could pretend one of these candles is on a birthday cake, and blow it out. Since we didn’t get to celebrate you the right way,” he adds as he takes his own seat.

“I think I could do that,” I say, picking up my spoon to dig in. “Thank you Paps, you’re really too good to me.”

“We’re all we’ve got, sweetheart.”

As we eat, I watch as Paps’ hands seem weaker now, and how they shake a little as he brings his spoon to his mouth. He’s done an excellent job on the soup, but we both know we’re choking it down, both of our stomachs too wrought with nerves and heartbreak to enjoy it like we should.

As we clean our bowls, he pushes one of the candles toward me, holding his hand out to motion for me to blow. The candle is old and burned through almost all the wax, but it still smells of pumpkin and apple pie. “Don’t forget to make a wish, sweetheart. And make it a good one,” he says, giving me a sweet wink from behind his glasses.

I take a deep breath and wrack my brain, feeling like making a wish right now is selfish. Normally, I’d wish for a happy next year, health and fortune for my family, or even for the next man that walks into my life to be the right one.

But all of that feels stupid now, pointless to request of the universe.

Next year isn’t even promised.

Over half of my family is gone.

And no man is destined to walk into my life to better it in the least, let alone offer me kinship of any kind.

So instead I wish for Paps to stay as healthy as possible for as long as possible, and that the universe bestows good things upon us both. Because like he said, we’re all we’ve got.

+++

After I’ve cleaned the dishes and tidied the kitchen, I’m stopped in my tracks from the same sound I heard coming through the walls last night– the sound of quiet, staticy music.

I find Paps with his record player again, cranking the handle on the side as the sound begins to spill from the horn. For a second, I’m happy that he’d kept this old thing, knowing that without it, we wouldn’t be able to hear music at all, probably ever again.

I step up beside him and watch it spin, listening to “Lovin’ You More Every Day” by Etta James drift into the air. I know that Gran loved this one, too. It was one of the songs they danced to at their wedding.

So I take his hand in mine, pulling him to stand with me on the old oriental rug in the middle of the room. I begin to sway around as he gently places his hand on my back, swaying right along with me. We’re dancing a little too slowly for the speed of the song, but neither of us care. We’re just enjoying our time, wishing that Gran was here to clap for us after the song ends. But as it comes to a close, we’re met again with static, waiting silently for the first note of the next song.

“You’re a bit too big now to stand on my feet,” he says through a stiff smile.

“Maybe so,” I giggle. “But it was your training that got rid of my two left feet…gave me a sense of some rhythm…” I grin.

He smiles again as he sniffles through some more tears. “I’m sorry I won’t be there to dance with you at your own wedding, sweetheart,” he mumbles as he pulls me close, and my heart shatters into a million pieces.

“Now Paps, don’t talk like that…” I argue. “Lord knows I’m not gonna find a man who can dance better than you, anyway.”

I hear a chuckle run through his chest. “May be, sweetheart. May be.”

We sway along to a few more songs before we’re both yawning. “Believe I’m gonna hit the hay,” he says solemnly, patting me on the head a few times before making his way to throw a few more logs onto the fire.

“Me too, I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask, realizing that this will be the first night in over sixty years that he is going to sleep knowing he won’t wake up to the love of his life.

“When the rooster crows, my sweet. Love you.”

“I love you, Paps,” I say as we part ways, drifting off to our respective rooms.

I’m thankful the weather isn’t too horrendous tonight as I snuggle into my bed, pulling the covers onto my chest. I relax, but leave my candle lit, staring up at the ceiling and recounting the day. The look on Gran’s face as she finally met peace, no longer feeling the wrenching burn of the rash that had enveloped her body. Poor Paps. I can’t even imagine what he’s feeling, right now.

I grab my journal back up and flip to the page I’d left off on, realizing I’d stopped in the middle of a thought. Instead of finishing it, I start a new one.

I write about Gran’s passing, how and where we buried her, how I adorned her hands and wrists with all her old jewelry, and how Paps had made me a special birthday supper. I try to be as detailed as possible, leaving nothing out as I let my hand flow from print to cursive. My eyes begin to get heavy as the candle light flickers, and I realize just how exhausted I am. How mentally and physically drained I’ve become, simply from trying my best to stay alive.

My eyes close a little, drifting down onto my forearm that’s covered in tattoos. My dad hated them, but Paps and Gran always told me they were an expression of my life at the time, like a roadmap of all of the things I loved, when I loved them. Keepsakes I’ll never part with. I always thought it strange, that coming from grandparents from an era of humans who normally found tattoos distasteful, but.

But they were right. I have over twenty tattoos, but my forearm is dedicated to the band that I knew and loved so much, and who brought me some of the happiest times of my life.

The first one sits right in the crook of my elbow, a simple sun and crescent moon that I got right after I fell in love with From the Fires. Then words, right below that, reading ‘In an age of darkness, light appears’ in small font, wrapping all the way around my arm. Under that, a swirling symbol that resembles a radar, 13 lines that make an almost complete circle to commemorate the song that reminds me to step back into the natural world. Beneath that, a sword and an arrow, parallel with one another. And lastly, a symbol that truly represented their fifth album, lines shaped into what looks like a bird in flight.

I never got to get a tattoo from this last album. And honestly, the darkness of the theme of it made choosing what I would have gotten a little difficult, anyway.

I run my hand over the dark black ink and my mind begins to sleepily drift. I wonder what my friends are doing right now…are they alive? Are they sad, too? Are they still clinging to the good times we shared to keep their minds from falling into the deep depths of solitude?

My fingers stop over the Age of Machine tattoo, the little ridges of the skinny lines still rigid on my skin. I think about how much this tattoo reminded me to unplug and drown myself in nature every chance I got. How that song truly motivated me to do the exact opposite of letting myself be pulled into the false world of social media, and spend my time in my garden, or swept up in a book. Strange, now… thinking about how it made me feel when I listened. Haunted, dizzy, and uneasy. Scared, almost, but cautious. Ominous and anxious, but in the most peaceful way. Now I’m glad of the inspiration it gave me. Maybe that’s why I haven’t gotten the rash. It’s almost like that song was warning us of what was to come…

What are the men who wrote this music doing right now? Are they okay, too? My heart wrenches in a different way than it has, yet. Yearning to know of the state of people I had never met, yet worried about the wellbeing of for so many years of my life. “Silly,” I whisper to myself. But, it’s not silly. It’s just the heart they helped me find within myself to care about other people so deeply.

I close my pencil into my book again as I blow out my candle, thinking of all the nights I went to sleep excited to wake up before the sun and double check the luggage I’d packed, grabbing a quick coffee before I hit the road to travel to god knows where to see my friends and my favorite band again. Carefree, and careless. Living my life the way I wanted to, choosing the road ahead to achieve that happiness I’d always chased when it came to hearing their music live. Life unchained, the way Gran lived hers.

+++

Just as my body is relaxing into a well-deserved sleep, I’m awoken by a loud rumble, a deafening sound so deep that I feel it in my bones. I shoot up in bed, realizing that the bed below me is shaking, vibrating. I pull the covers back quickly, rushing down the hall to find Paps already coming toward me with his candle in hand.

“What’s going on?!” I yell above the loud rumbles.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!” he yells back, and we both make our way to the large picture window in the living room. The moonlight illuminates the hillside of the farm, revealing a giant faultline that reaches from one side of the field all the way to the next.

“Shit,” Paps mutters as I feel panic setting into my gut. “Faultline.”

“What’s that mean?! Paps, what is it?” I ask in succession, watching as the crack as wide as a river is eating up the ground.

“Probably another sink hole. Or one is going to happen nearby, I’d say,” he barks as he turns and rushes back to his room. “We’ve got to go. We’ve got to run,” he hollers.

What?! Run?? We can’t run!

“Paps, but the house! We’re alread–”

“Get your backpack. Get dressed, hurry! We’ve got to get away from it!” he commands, his voice booming. The house begins shaking again as I run to my room, throwing on my pants, jacket, and boots, and tossing my heavy emergency backpack over my shoulders. I make sure to secure my toboggan onto my head before stuffing my journal into the free pocket of my backpack, rushing back out into the living room to find Paps ready and waiting.

I hear plates and dishes falling from the shelves of the kitchen, and books falling off the shelves of the living room. It’s just like an earthquake, except I had watched a crevice form in the ground, right before my eyes. My hands are shaking, and I am already broken out in a cold, panicked sweat. We rush to the truck, throwing our things into the bed as we climb inside.

“Hank! Where’s Hank?!” I yell, looking around for him.

“Leave him, we’ve got to go,” Paps says as he turns the key in the ignition, hearing the engine purr to life for just a second, before shutting right back off. He tries again, pumping the fuel pedal to get the block to heat and the glow plugs to light. “Fuck, fuck!! Come on, baby! Don’t do this!” he yells, trying to coax the machine. But it’s to no avail. The battery has died.

We open the doors and clamber to grab our bags again, realizing that on foot is our only means of escaping the growing faultline. We take off rushing down the dirt road, still hearing the deep rumble of the ground separating behind us. I wish I could describe the sound, a noise unlike anything I’ve ever heard before. The cracking and snapping of deep roots, the crashing of trees, a low bellowing sound so deep that it sounds like it came from hell, itself. Unreal. And utterly fucking terrifying.

My legs carry me, and luckily so do Paps’, straight down the long driveway and back onto the main road. I hear the wood of the house start to creak, and more wooden-sounding bangs. Fuck. Please, not the house…

“Should we go to the woods?” I pant, knowing that Paps is just as out of breath as I am.

“No, to the knoll,” he points, panting too as he motions toward the top of a high hill. When we finally make it there, we stop, taking a breather as now it feels as though we’re far enough from the field to get a better view of everything that lies beneath. And there, right in the center of the field is another sinkhole, giant and deep and dark with half the farm swallowed up in it.

Luckily, the house is untouched.

“How on God’s green Earth…” Paps breathes as he lets his hands fall to his knees, trying to catch his breath as the two of us look down on the scene in front of us. Like it was straight from a horror film.

“Had to of been Gran. She wouldn’t let the devil himself take her home, if it was the last thing she did,” I say, earning a breathy laugh from Paps.

“You’re goddamn right, sweetheart. You’re goddamn right,” he says, finally catching his breath. “We need to run, we’re pretty close to this thing, still.” We take off again, rushing back down the road as we still hear the ground shaking below us. We hear trees falling in the distance, and we begin running again. I’m truly thankful for Paps’ stamina and heart right now, his legs getting him to safety even at his age.

“Keep going, Paps, not much further,” I encourage him, just in case he needs it. “We’re okay, we’re okay…”

Suddenly, I see a set of headlights in the distance, barreling down the road towards us in a cloud of dust. When it finally approaches, I flag it down until it stops beside us. An old man is sitting in the driver’s seat, his face just as panicked as ours. “Hop in! Hop in!” he says, and we listen. Paps and I rush to the passenger side and slide into the cab, the man already hitting the gas before Paps can even shut the door all the way.

“You’ve got to turn around!” I say, “There are sinkholes this way!”

He turns the wheel harshly, and I’m glad he listens to me. We rush back the opposite way, zooming down the road so fast I can hardly fathom what’s happening. Pure panic.

“We’re alright, Paps, we made it out,” I try and calm him, reaching for my canteen of fresh water and offering it to him as he catches his breath.

Suddenly we’re being thrust forward as the man steps on the brake, and I’m close to cursing him before I notice he’s stopped before another faultline in the road. “My god…” the man says, opening his truck door and climbing out.

“No, no… what are you doing?!” I yell, wondering why in the hell this man is getting out of our escape vehicle and walking towards the crack in the ground. I watch as he steps closer to it, inching his steps as he peers down over the edge. “Is he insane?! Are you insane? Please, come back!!” I scream, but he doesn’t listen. The ground shakes again, throwing the man off balance as it makes him stumble, swallowing him right up into it.

“Oh my god!!” I yell as Paps lets out a guttural scream. My hand covers my mouth as I yell in disbelief, watching as the man is there one second, and gone the next.

“Drive, Y/N, drive!” Paps urges me, pushing my arms to scoot to the driver’s seat. I throw the truck in reverse, pulling the door closed as I rush to get us away from it all, pushing the pedal to the floor as my eyes scan for more faultlines. It feels as though we’re surrounded by them. My heart is pounding, now, as my body does the necessary work on auto pilot.

“Keep going! Keep going!” Paps says as we get closer to town, and away from the vibrating ground. After a few minutes of shaking panic, it feels like the buzzing of the ground has subsided, and I can finally take a deep breath. A shaky one, but a breath nonetheless.

As I finally allow my eyes to adjust and my hands to stretch, I’m finally feeling in control of my body again. Okay, okay, I’ve got this. Just keep driving. “Paps, you okay?”

“I’m okay sweetheart, you okay?”

“I’m good, I’m good,” I breathe, taking another deep breath in to calm my shaking body. “God, why the fuck did he do that?”

“Couldn’t tell ya, dumb and curious, I guess,” he says, taking another drink from the canteen before offering it to me. “Head toward the city, we’ll need to find a place to hunker down, tonight.”

And though my heart is still pounding as his words hit me, I take the right turn off the state route to head to the interstate, both of us in high hopes that the city will offer us more than it did when we left it. But honestly, I’m losing faith.

I’d been driving for nearly twenty minutes on the empty road before I take a cutoff exit, determined to cut our drive time down and conserve fuel. The exit leads to a sideroad that is heavily wooded, but I know it will get us to the city more quickly. As the headlights shine down the two-lane road, I notice some kind of dark, shadowed figures standing down in the distance. I blink a few times, trying to see what is there.

“Is that deer?” I ask Paps.

“Can’t tell, it’s too dark,” he says, so I slow my pace. My headlights do little to light them up, but the closer we get, the more human they look. Tall, dark… just standing there?

And they aren’t moving. I bring the truck to a stop, my headlights almost no help at all as the figures begin to close in on us, instead of moving out of the road.

“The hell is this, what’s happening?” Paps yells as the figures have us completely blocked from continuing down the road, now. My panic returns. I hear Paps cock his shotgun. “Drive, drive!!!”

My foot smashes the pedal to the floor, but the truck doesn’t move. The tires screech as I continue pushing it, willing the truck to keep going. But it won’t. It’s like I’m running it into a brick wall. “What’s happening!! Why won’t it go?!” I scream, my hands gripping the wheel as the truck begins to fishtail from the force of the tires on the ground. The lights from the truck are completely gone, now. We’re in total darkness. “Paps!”

“I’m here, I’m here, honey!” and I feel him grab my hand. Suddenly the truck doors slam open, and my body is being grabbed and pulled from the seat. I thrash and kick at whatever has grabbed me, but nothing works. It’s too strong. I feel a painful hit to my head, and my ears scream as I start to lose consciousness. I feel a dark cover be put over my head and secured, completely blocking my vision altogether. “Paps!!!!” I try and yell, but I’m slipping quickly into unconsciousness as my voice is barely a squeal. My hands are being tied in front of me, and all I feel is cold.

+++

I wake up in a cold sweat, my hands still bound as I sit with my back against a metal wall. My breathing is ragged as I try and take in my surroundings, and I realize I still have the covering over my head. I wince in pain from the impact of whatever hit my head earlier. I hear others beside me, many crying, panicked voices whimpering in the same room. I try and make a sound, but my voice is hoarse from screaming. I try and speak, but there is tape over my mouth. What is happening, where is Paps?!

My heart is pounding in my chest as I try to raise my bound hands and remove the covering, but it’s secured tightly. I’m in pitch black darkness, and I can’t see a fucking thing. I try to stand, but my muscles are weak and sore, and I can hardly will them to move, let alone stand. It’s unclear how long I was knocked out, and how long I have been sitting in this cold, metal room, but it feels like only a few minutes have passed. I feel tears begin running down my face, I feel so helpless, so exhausted. So blind.

Suddenly I hear a loud noise, like a heavy metal door being thrust open. I see a light through the covering over my face, and I try and yell again. But nothing comes out. Just like in those nightmares where you are unable to make a sound. I hear footsteps come into the room, heavy boots pounding against the concrete floor. My covering is forcefully removed, and it takes a second for my eyes to adjust to the bright light.

Finally, I’m able to see eight or ten others with me, all of us sitting with our hands bound, lined up against the walls of this room. Some beside me, some directly across from me. I watch as two tall, masked men work their way around the room, removing each and every face covering. A woman, a man, a teenaged boy, an elderly lady… and then, Paps. I make excited eye contact with him as I feel a squeal leave my taped lips. He’s safe. He’s here.

I watch as the rest of the covers are removed one by one, the person seated directly across from me being saved for last. They leave him sitting for a few seconds as they exchange what looks to be laughs with one another before one of them gently kicks his legs a little before undoing his head covering.

The man’s face is beaten and bruised, his brown hair tangled and long and falling in front of his face as he winces in pain. They throw his face covering back down to the floor beside him, laughing again as they turn and leave the room without a word, locking the door behind them.

I peer to the hair-covered face again to get a better look, and I swear if my mouth wasn’t taped shut, I would have screamed out in disbelief.

That’s Jake fucking Kiszka.

He feels my eyes on him as he finally looks up to me, noticing my awkward stare. Neither of us can speak. I feel myself smiling under the tape, what are the fucking odds? What is happening?! Where the fuck are we?

His eyes grow wide as he realizes I know him, and he stares back at me in utter confusion. Do I tell him I recognize him? Shit, he can probably tell I do, by now. For some odd reason unbeknownst to me, I maneuver my tied hands to slowly pull up the sleeve of my shirt, showing him the splattering of tattoos that line my forearm. I know you. I watch his eyes see them as I straighten my arm out, willing him to see them, recognize them.

I watch his chest rise and fall as he begins shaking his head slowly side to side, his breathing picking up significantly as he looks at me with red, swollen eyes.

No? Is he telling me no?

Just as I hear the sound of the heavy footsteps coming back down the hall, I watch as Jake slowly lifts his bound hands to his face, his pointer finger sticking up in front of his taped mouth.

My stomach falls as I realize he’s serious. Not only is he telling me no, he’s telling me to stay quiet.

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he-goes-down · 1 year ago

Text

There Was A Time:

previous chapters/warnings

6. You Ain’t The First

Second person POV:

That Friday the band had a gig. You did the usual; help the boys tease their hair, this was the only time you could be near Izzy or touch him, you helped Slash with his eyeliner and Axl's eyeshadow. They went on stage you watched them from a secret balcony opposite the stage, where all the lights and other technical controls were. You watched Steven's hair bounce as he played the drums, and it was even more hypnotising with his teased hair. You watched him for the beginning of the gig, it soon trailed over to Axl. You knew it was bad that you had feelings for him, even worse that you kissed him. You're his manager, you couldn't be with him, just like nothing could happen between you and Duff. But my god he is so addictive to look at. His teased hair made him look like a lion, and the way he moved his hips when he sang made all the girls, the boys and yourself go absolutely wild. You did however look away from him when it was Slash's solo. Duff and Izzy were looking at you while he shredded, you didn't notice of course as you were in awe at his talent and his man boobs. Duff was jealous, but he wasn't hateful, he knew Slash was amazing at going nuts on the guitar, he stared too sometimes. Izzy however, no one knew what he was thinking. Murder? Maybe. Toe hair? I don't know. Unicorns shitting glitter? Sure! He was so hard to read, he was a complete mystery.

The rest of the show went well. Axl didn't jump on anyone or even shout at them. When they ended you waited for them in the changing room. All the guys were first in, but Axl was slightly delayed, but soon he stepped over the dressing rooms threshold. "Guys, I have someone that I want you to meet." Axl said with a smile. It was quite unusual to see him this chirpy after a show, he would normally be ranting with the small nit-picky stuff of the not-so-good quality equipment. A stunning girl with long curly hair and the most beautiful blue eyes walked in behind him and then stood next to him. "This is Erin." He spoke. "My girlfriend". Those words hit you like a freight train, your ears started ringing. You felt so betrayed. You felt your heart break under the sheer amount of pain it just felt in that moment. You hated them. No not her. Him. Axl Rose. He played with your heart just like that. Did he think of you like you were some groupie? He couldn't have, your kiss and everything but lust behind it. You had to put. Brave face on to not like you wanted to kill yourself in that moment because, they rest of the band were introducing themselves and you were up next after Izzy. "This is our manager." Axl said as he motioned to you. "Ah! Oh my god you're so pretty! I've heard so much about you!" She said. 'Oh thank god she's a girls girl' You thought in relief.

You guys sat at the booth like normal, this time with Steven and Erin on your sides instead of Axl. Erin was absolutely lovely, you contemplated taking her for yourself and getting back at Axl. Or just taking her for yourself. You we're still heart sore and annoyed at Axl, with every word he spoke your malicious thoughts of getting back at him got worse and worse. Would he even care? He better. "If you weren't in the music business, what would you do?" Erin asked. You were about to speak but Axl spoke over you. "Some Rocket Science things. That's why we call her our Rocket Queen." He spoke. You coughed a little nearly choking as you remembered one of the stories behind the song Rocket Queen that they haven't even made yet. "That's so cool!" She responded. You smiled at her. "I can speak for myself Axl." You said with malice. "Geez, what's got you so riled up?" he asked as he laughed. You didn't know if he knew what he was doing was getting on your nerves, but he loved doing it. You rolled your eyes. "Stop listening in to our convos babe." She said as she playfully hit him. The pet name hurt you even more, but at least he was getting smacked. "Steven can you sit next to Axl so he can't eavesdrop?" You asked Steven, and he agreed and moved to the other side. You and Erin chatted more, as the guys were talking in their own world, it felt good to have another girl to talk to, you realised just how much more immature boys were. "So... Which one is your favourite?" She asked as she nudged you. "Oh, no no I can't choose," You giggled "Steven definitely. Oh, and maybe Duff as second" You whispered to her. "And the others?" She giggled "Izzy hates me for I don't know what reason. Slash doesn't warn anyone when he's bringing someone over, so I always get to hear the noises he makes." You giggled as you rolled your eyes. "And Axl just getting on my nerves sometimes." You added. "I don't know, I think Izzy has thing for you." She spoke. You stared at her with wide eyes and a 'what the fuck' expression on your face. You nearly burst out laughing. "Seriously! Look, every time he takes a sip of his drink, he looks at you." She whispered. You scoffed lightly at her in disbelief. "Look!" She whisper shouted. Both of you looked at Izzy who sat at the other side of the table. He took his glass, lifted it to his mouth and took a sip, his eyes then glanced to your end of the table. He saw the two of you looking back at him, and he quickly glanced back at the other guys while coughing slightly as he nearly choked on his drink. Your mouth was slightly a gape as you looked back at Erin, and she had the most shit eating grin ever and was about to giggle her ass off just like you were. She snorted then you did, it didn't take long till the two of you were laughing uncontrollably, not being able to breathe soon after. Izzy quickly made his way out of the booth seeing this scene unravel and he went to the bathroom. The rest of the band were looking at you two going mental.

You soon calmed down, but you didn't explain to the rest what happened. Axl looked a little irritated, but you didn't notice as you were having too much fun with Erin. Izzy soon came back also looking irritated but much more than Axl. You two didn't giggle more at him just encase he might go off on you. "But who do you like?" She asked. "Didn't you already ask me this?" You raised an eyebrow. "I mean like. Like, like you know?" She explained. Shit. You couldn't say it. "I can't date any of them. I'm their manager." You told her. "Yeah, but you can still like one of them. It's not illegal." She responded. "Nah, I couldn't." you said. 'Wise words, should have listened to them sooner.' You thought. "Come on! What about the tall one? He's been taking peeks at you too." She said. You blushed a bit, you had an initial crush on him, but you still couldn't pursue it. You looked at Duff who was talking amongst the group, then glanced at Axl who sat next to him. If Axl didn't care about you, then he wouldn't mind you getting closer with Duff. Right?

You all drank some more and talked some more. Izzy starred daggers at you the whole time. You didn't realise as you were talking to Erin and Duff over the table. It was soon time to leave, and you were innocently flirting with Duff as you were walking to the exit. Axl noticed and his intoxicated rage filled eyes glared at the sight of you two, and his anger burned brighter as Duff laid his hand on your shoulder as he sweet talked you and you giggled in response. Erin left to her own apartment as you were halfway home, Axl didn't even seem to acknowledge that. Or even get the slightest bit of excitement when offered going to her place to do some unspeakable business. He just grunted a 'bye' and continued to hang his head with distain as he continued walking. He gets like this when he's off his head drunk, but not when naked women are involved. You got home and everyone went to their respective rooms. You took Duffs hand and leaded him to your shared room, you were drunk and wanted to have fun, and especially get on Axl's nerves. Duff was more than happy to endorse what you were about to do. "Wait. I need to talk to you." Axl said. You rolled your eyes and sighed. You nudged your head at Duff to go to the room. You rested your back on the nearest wall and crossed your arms, as you gave a tired look at Axl. "Mhm?" You started. "What do you think you're getting at?" He accused. "I don't understand." You responded in a sarcastic annoyed tone back at him. "Why are you so angry? You have a girlfriend now. You should be ecstatic!" You waved your hand as you spoke. He huffed slightly, being at a loss for words. "Go on...?" You urged. Nothing. You got up off the wall about to walk to the room. "Just, don't hurt her." You said to him in a lighter serious tone. "Don't go kissing her and then leaving her for another girl the next week." You said as began walking. He did not like that. He started to speak up. "You ain't the fucking first. Just remember that." He shouted down at you. You knew you weren't, but you really wanted to be.

You did get back to the room, tired from the mental drainage that's been this night. Duff was half-way undressed but he was passed out hard on the bed. You sighed in relief as you put the covers over him and tucked yourself into bed next to his.

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heluvschibi · 7 months ago

Text

The Apocalypse: Part 2

🧟prev << >> next🧟

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⚠️blood, jump scare? Cussing, mini panic attack(s), throwing up, weapons

📄2/8 of the boys get introduced!!!

👤who's loving this series? (please tell me)

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des:Food ✔ water ✔ survivors… WAIT SURVIVORS?!

words:1.9k

Y/N's POV

I got out of the apartment alive and well I obviously had to kill a few zombies, but I was fine, I went through the back entrance of the apartments, where the dumpsters we're and snuck my way out, now I'm currently crouched down behind a car as a group of zombies stumble around, I can feel my heart in my throat...

"Shit... Shit..." I turned around to peek behind the car, there were about 7,9 zombies...I got so far away from the apartment... I can't just go back now...

I look around for any distractions...and-

"No fucking way..." I mumbled out, a toy store...no zombies in it, there's a few zombies I have to kill on the way but... I can do it.

I pulled out my knife and snuck behind the big potting plant for trees, the zombie had it's back facing me, "Lord please let me survive this and tell my children how cool I was..."

I grabbed the zombie dragging it down with me before stabbing it in the head, I tried not to barf, but the smell...I wiped my hand on my jacket and looked forward, the toy store.

I hurried and rushed in... the door is open!

The door is open?

I grabbed my golf putt and walked around cautiously, I felt someone... Or something grabs me, and I hurried and turned around pushing the zombie off of me, before hitting it blindly killing it.

"Oh my gosh..." I put my hand on my heart feeling it beating wildly, the zombies face was completely smashed in, not a sight for sore eyes or any eyes...I felt something come up and before I knew it, I was on my hands and knees throwing up my breakfast...

"Aw, come on..." I stood up my stomach hurting from hurling, and looked around for what I came in here for...

I walked through the aisles looking for- "Monkey!" I smiled, it was one of the monkey's holding cymbals, all you have to do is wind. it up and clash clash clash.

I remember having to buy one of these loud monkeys for a prank at my office for my senior.

I grabbed three of the monkeys and walked to the door winding one of the monkeys up and tossing it pretty far, the zombies in the area all growled and ran that way, I tossed another one out there for good luck.

And when I had my opening, I ran, I ran as fast as I could, the zombies being distracted by the monkeys to even pay me mind I rushed to the convenient store, opening the door and closing it when I'm in, because the door is glass and the windows are big I had to be quick, I hurried and took off my bag and started looting.

When my bag looked full, I turned around to get out, but a zombie was coming this way I hurried and looked around and decided on the employee room.

I rushed closing the door and banging was heard on the door, and like I did in my apartment I pushed all my weight the door to keep it shut.

Soon gun shots were heard, that was scary too, the growling stopped so did the pounding on the door.

"Hyung, we're the zombies acting weird..."

"Yeah, they were all gathered over here..."

The footsteps got closer; I don't know what came over me, but I held onto the doorknob, so the door won't open.

"Is there something in there?"

"Someone you mean..."

I heard one of the guys grunting, I'm trying hard to make sure the door doesn't fling open. Soon the doorknob stopped wriggling and the guys sighed.

I let go of the doorknob and let out a small sigh myself before the door flung open, I fell back landing on my butt, I let out a cry in pain.

I looked up to see two guys, one of them holding a gun to my face and the other one behind him holding a flashlight, I closed my eyes from him shining the light in my face.

"Oh..." One of the guys said, he lowered the flashlight, and I peeked open my eyes before opening them all the way.

"Are you bit?" The fox looking guy said.

I shook my head no.

And the guy holding the gun lowers it, tucking it away.

"Gosh, why didn't you open the door?" The guy spoke and he had an Australian accent, I was still on the ground in shock.

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After we calmed down, we all had a small snack and talked.

The fox looking guy who sat on the couch next to me that practicality blinded me with a flashlight earlier smiled at me, a very kind smile before speaking "I'm so sorry for earlier, you know. Have to be careful." I remember he told me that his name was Yang Jeongin.

And the guy who pointed a gun in my face from earlier name was Bahng Christopher Chan, but told me to just call him Chan was leaning on the table looking at us, with very attractive lips surprisingly "So... Gangnam...?" He raised one of his eyebrows.

"Yeah, I can understand your confusion, I was just rotting in my room until I ran out of food. I never expected to run into a living person who doesn't smell like rotting corpse..." I joke, earning a small smile from Chan and a quiet chuckle from Jeongin.

"We never expected to find anyone living in Gangnam. I'm actually kinda happy." Jeongin smiled at me his eyes crinkling into crescent moons, I blushed a little.

"So where have you been living?"

"Oh well, me and a couple of our friends decided to live at my family small cabin in the woods-"

"Chan hyung stop lying!" Jeongin looked at Chan then at me, "Chan hyungs family cabin is huge! There's like a million bedrooms, I don't even think it should be classified as a cabin... More like a whole dang mansion!" Jeongin spread his arms out waving them around, I laughed at his exaggeration.

"Sorry for him. He's just... Jeongin." Chan giggled, "But we live in my family's 'Mansion' in the woods, we somewhat fortified it so it's safe for me and the other seven guys."

"Seven guys?" I raised my eyebrow.

"It doesn't matter-" "oh my gosh Chan hyung I just had the best idea ever." Jeongin butted in again causing Chan to groan. "What if we take her home!? We can introduce her to some of the guys!" Jeongin smiled.

The way he said it made it seem like I was a little homeless puppy living on the street...

"Eh, I wouldn't want to invade your guy's privacy..." I shook my head no.

"No you wouldn't, you would have your own room and everything! So we won't invade your privacy and you won't invade ours!"

"Jeongin, I don't think she wants to come." Chan mumbled.

Jeongin looking at Chan and pouted, "But... Come on Y/n." Jeongin looked at me, "It's not safe here."

I looked at Jeongin then at Chan.

"He's right you know, what if you do somehow get back home, Gangnam is still very full of zombies, and by the looks of what you brought with you on a simple scavenge, you aren't prepared to just live on your own during an apocalypse, even if you were safe for this long. Who knows how long you will survive." Chan walked toward us dragging the swivel chair with him to sit down in front of us. "But let's say you don't make it home, you get attacked by zombies or worse... Strange people. What will happen to you? We're not pushing you but your currently stopped at a fork road right now."

I bit my bottom lip thinking about what he was saying, then, "Okay you've convinced me."

Chan nodded and leaned back in the swivel chair.

"But can we stop by the apartment...I need to get a few things."

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Chan's POV

I walked out of the employees' room and into the store, I pulled out the small black walkie talkie.

"Minho, it's Chan checking in..." I said over the walkie talky.

...

"Minho?" I said worriedly.

"Sorry, I was fighting with the kids again-" a scream was heard in the back, very whiny scream.

"What the hell is going on over there?!" I shouted, Jeongin peeking his head out from the employees' room from hearing the muffled commotion.

"Hyung what's going on...?" Jeongin mumbled confused by the scream and me yelling.

"I don't know-"

"Sorry, Jisung is crying because- what was it again?" A mumbled was heard over the speaker of the walkie talkie. "Because Seung min called him a baby..."

I sighed... "Jisung... Just.... I don't know just ignore him."

"I did hyung but he keeps calling me a baby!" Jisung yelled.

"This is stupid...okay whatever- Minho, we found a survivor here at Gangnam..." I mumbled.

Whining was heard in the background, but it soon faded out, Minho was probably moving away from the noise. "Gangnam? Isn't that part over run? Wait why are you even there?" Minho spoke sounding suspicious.

"Yeah, it is over run, but we found this girl huddled up here in the convenient store just down the road by the apartments."

"Check if she's okay, bites, sickness, bloody nose, ruthless attacking, anything, if she's fine bring her back. If not-"

"I know...we shoot her." I mumbled the last part.

"Come back safe, over." Silence was heard from over his line, I put my walkie talkie back in my back pocket and walked back into the employee room.

After checking her for any sign's that she may turn, she was clean. Surprisingly. Gangnam was hit pretty hard because how much people are here, I never expected someone to survive over here.

Seungmin was worried when the apocalypse started...

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Flashback....

"HYUNG!" Seungmin shouted, he ran to me tears filling his eyes, what did a zombie get in?

"What's happening? Are you okay are the guys okay—"

"Hyung, h-he won't answer..." Seungmin showed me his phone screen, he called his grandpa and grandma 20 times in total and not one of them answered, he pulled his phone away and immediately called his grandpa again...

"The number you are trying to reach is unavailable at this time please-" Seungmin hung up and looked up at me, desperation in his eyes.

"Hyung... W-we have to go to Gangnam..."

This is new... Seungmin usually kept his emotions in, he never came to me or any of the other guys, so none of us really knew how he felt but... This... This is a side I never wanted to see of him. His crying got worse as rambling of wanting—no needing to go to Gangnam spews from his mouth, I place my hand on his shoulder and that stops him, he looks up at me "P-please hyung, I-I don't want my grandparents to be- dead."

I sighed, there is nothing I can really do, the car ran out of gas just in time when we got here, and the start of the apocalypse just happened, only a fool, and idiot would run out there blindly.

"Seungmin, I'm sorry but as the eldest I have to protect you guys from danger. And I think if I say yes to you just running to Gangnam, and you die... I think I would blame myself if you never came back..."

Distraught, anger, sadness...it was written all over his face.

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Now

Maybe, just maybe Seungmin's Grandpa is still alive.

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BOOM I'M BACK!!!! I still have a small cough but i'll survive!

did you guys miss me? BECAUSE I DID! I missed writing and posting (I was writing while I was sick...it's like addicting to me or something...) sorry if it's bad hehe

I'll be updating both the normal masterlist and The Apocalypse masterlist. -Chibi

have a good day/afternoon/night!!

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Tag list 🏷

@loumin908

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bloody-bee-tea · 7 months ago

Text

June of (minimal) Doom 2024 Day 5 - It's not as bad as it looks

Suguru feels sick to his stomach. He knows he should help Satoru, should help him get up, should get him to Shoko somehow, but his hands shake and the rest of his body feels as if it’s frozen in ice.

“Suguru, a little help here,” Satoru says, his voice tight with pain as he holds out his hand.

Suguru is supposed to take it, to haul him up and then help him walk but he can’t do anything.

Except stare at Satoru’s leg, at the angle it’s in and the only thing he can currently hear is the awful sound it made as it snapped.

It shouldn’t have.

Satoru is supposed to be invincible; he’s supposed to be untouchable.

He’s not supposed to break his leg.

“Suguru,” Satoru snaps now, clearly more annoyed than in pain and Suguru jerks. “Help me up, goddamit,” Satoru grumbles, waving his hand around and glaring at Suguru. “I’m not going to get up by myself, so please.”

“Satoru, I—” Suguru starts, unsure how he’s going to explain that he doesn’t feel stable enough to support himself, less alone Satoru.

“What the hell has gotten into you?” Satoru grumbles, leaning forward to take Suguru’s hand in his own when he doesn’t move to help him and even that movement makes him hiss in pain.

Suguru’s heart misses a beat at that and he stumbles when Satoru tries to pull himself up with the grip he has on Suguru’s hand.

“Suguru!” Satoru yells and it makes Suguru blink. “I need to get to Shoko already. She’s going to fix me right back up, okay, so would you just—” He tugs on Suguru’s arm again but the only thing that does is make Suguru fall to his knees.

“You have RCT. Heal yourself,” he says, begs almost, because he cannot continue to stare at that leg of Satoru’s but Satoru only huffs.

“Well, it turns out that pain makes it really difficult to concentrate and apparently instinct doesn’t kick in if I’m not in a life or death situation.”

Suguru almost gags at that; he still remembers the pool of blood at the top of the stairs, still hears Satoru almost gleefully describe just what gruesome injuries he survived and it’s all going to make him sick again.

“Suguru?” Satoru asks, more careful this time and clears realising that something is going on, but still, Suguru has a hard time shaking himself out of those memories.

His own injuries were almost laughable in comparison, and he isn’t as hung up about them as he is about Satoru’s injuries.

“Hey, Suguru, come on now,” Satoru says, much softer now. “Let’s just go see Shoko okay?”

“Sure,” Suguru forces himself to say because Satoru is in pain, can’t heal himself because of it, because he’s hurt and Suguru has to do something about it. “Up you go,” he says, tries to make his voice light and cheerful in hopes to distract Satoru from his behaviour, and for now it works.

Probably only because Satoru has to concentrate on getting up without putting any weight on his injured leg but Suguru is going to take it.

“Alright, onward!” Satoru yells out, as if Suguru is his noble steed that has to be steered on and even though it makes Suguru roll his eyes, he does start to walk, mindful of the way Satoru has to awkwardly hop next to him.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, you know,” Satoru says when they are maybe a quarter of the way to Shoko and Suguru presses his lips together.

It’s exactly as bad as it looks, Suguru thinks, because it looks like a broken leg and that is what it is. In the grand scheme of things it might not be much—especially compared to the injures they sustained before—but it’s an injury nonetheless.

It shouldn’t leave Suguru reeling like this, but that is a thought for another day.

“Whatever you say,” Suguru belatedly gives back and then stops when Satoru almost stumbles. “This would be faster if I could just pick you up,” he says, turning his gaze towards Satoru.

“Piggy-back? Sure, if you think you can carry me all the way,” Satoru glibly says, clearly not believing that at all and Suguru bites his tongue.

Satoru untangles his arm from Suguru, evidently expecting him to crouch down so Satoru can climb on his back, but Suguru simply bends down and picks him up in a bridal-carry.

“Suguru!” Satoru shouts out, flailing around in a way that almost makes Suguru drop him.

“Stop it,” he admonishes him as he starts to walk. “I’m going to drop you.”

“That’s why it should have been a piggy-back ride,” Satoru heatedly gives back and belatedly slings his arms around Suguru’s neck. “Don’t you dare drop me.”

“I won’t,” Suguru confidently says, because for all that Satoru is tall, he’s also lanky as hell. He’s actually not that heavy to carry.

They make it to Shoko in record time and with minimal grumbling from Satoru which Suguru takes as a win. He makes sure to keep his step light and even and to not jostle Satoru at all, so he doesn’t worsen his injury.

“What is this now?” Shoko asks when he walks into her work place and gently lowers Satoru on a chair.

“He broke his leg,” Suguru says, the sound of it now back to playing on loop in his mind and Shoko frowns.

“With Infinity?”

“Well, excuse me, but Infinity only protects me from outward forces.”

“So it’s useless against stupidity,” Shoko sums up and Satoru makes an outraged sound.

Their bickering is so painfully normal that it’s a balm to Suguru’s still shaken nerves and just like Satoru predicted Shoko has him healed up in less than a minute.

“There, all better now,” Shoko says and then taps a finger against her lips as she thinks. “You know, you really have to make healing yourself an instinct, even when your life is not in danger. That’s probably something you have to work on.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?” Satoru asks and just going by the downright wicked grin on Shoko’s face Suguru knows that he’s not going to like what’s coming next.

“I could inflict some minor injuries and make you heal them over and over again,” she gleefully suggests and when Satoru doesn’t immediately protest it, Suguru has to turn away.

“I’m done, good night,” he decides, even though it’s the middle of the day still and before Shoko or Satoru can say anything he marches out on them, almost fleeing back to his room.

He’s still shaken up, more than he’d like to admit or would be able to explain, and he thinks being away from Shoko and Satoru might help in getting himself under control again.

Suguru saw that Satoru was fine after Shoko treated him, saw him stand and walk around, so there’s really no reason for him to still feel as panicked as he does.

He just needs to breathe. In and out, just like Shoko has taught him and then he’s sure things will be fine.

Eventually.

Suguru is still in the process of convincing himself of that when Satoru barges into his room.

He stands firmly on his two legs, clearly has no problems whatsoever walking around and it should put the last bit of worry in Suguru’s mind at ease but it’s not working.

It’s not working because Satoru got hurt and Suguru wasn’t able to prevent it. It’s not working because Satoru is supposed to be invincible, untouchable and yet he got hurt.

Suguru’s breath is becoming increasingly short and fast and Satoru is at his side a moment later.

“Breathe, Suguru,” he coaxes him, puts Suguru’s hands on his chest and takes exaggerated breaths himself.

It takes a long while for Suguru to calm down again and in all honesty it’s not even because of the rhythm Satoru has established. The one thing that really helps is feeling how Satoru breathes, knowing that he’s alive and safe and unharmed.

“Are you feeling better now?” Satoru asks once Suguru’s breathing has returned to normal and Suguru is beyond embarrassed that Satoru had to see him like this so he turns around.

“I’m fine. Just tired. Thanks.” He tries to make his voice as dismissive as he can but of course it has absolutely no effect on Satoru.

“Sure, I totally believe that. What’s going on? It’s not like you to be this shaken by a little injury,” he says and flops down on Suguru’s bed.

“Your leg was broken. That hardly counts as a little injury.”

“It wasn’t life-endangering, so I’d say it was,” Satoru carelessly gives back and even that little comment is almost enough to send Suguru spiralling again.

“Don’t talk like that,” he hisses out and Satoru is visibly taken aback by his vehemence.

“Suguru—”

“Don’t ever even joke about that,” Suguru goes on, not letting Satoru talk. “After Toji—after everything that happened you don’t get to talk like that!”

“I was fine after Toji,” Satoru gives back, sitting back up, clearly noticing that this is more than just a little friendly talk. “I’m fine, Suguru.”

“But you weren‘t,” Suguru presses out. “Gods, Satoru, do you even know how much blood you lost? How much blood I had to find? You were not fine. You died!

“Almost,” Satoru interjects but Suguru barely even hears him.

“And now you have RCT and permanent Infinity and you’re not supposed to get hurt, not anymore, not ever again, I can’t find that much blood ever again, I can’t,” Suguru gasps out, all his careful breathing exorcises from before for naught but Satoru is at his side again a second later.

“I’m fine, Suguru,” he whispers, taking Suguru’s hands and putting one to his chest and one to his throat so he can feel him breathe, so he can feel his pulse and then he stays quiet until Suguru breathes easier.

“But you weren’t,” Suguru repeats and Satoru presses his lips together as he nods.

“I wasn’t, that’s true. But I’m better, I’m good, I promise. Today was—unfortunate,” he says and it’s ridiculous enough to make Suguru huff out a little laugh.

“You could say that,” he mutters and drops his head to Satoru’s shoulder. “You scared me.”

“I know,” Satoru apologetically says and reaches up to undo Suguru’s bun so he can card his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it on purpose,” Suguru gives back because he knows that much at least, no matter how irrational he is about everything else. “I just—I can’t have you hurt like that again. I can’t. I’m not strong enough to lose you.”

“Hey, you’re not losing me any time soon,” Satoru tells him and slings his arms around him. “And even if something were to try and take me away from you, I wouldn’t let it. I’m not leaving you behind, it’s you and me after all, right?”

“It is,” Suguru agrees, slinging his arms around Satoru in turn. “Satoru, I—”

He doesn’t know how to say it, how much this means to him, how much further his feelings go for Satoru, but when Satoru presses a kiss to his head he thinks that maybe he doesn’t have to know the words for it.

Maybe this is enough.

“I know, Suguru, me too,” Satoru softly says and it’s enough to almost make Suguru sob with relief. “That’s why I’m never leaving you, not ever. But the same has to go for you, you know.”

“I’m not the one who nearly died,” Suguru replies and Satoru chuckles.

“Fair,” he agrees and squeezes Suguru tight. “But I’m not going to do it again and you’re not going to leave me and things will be fine like that.”

Suguru has to admit that Satoru might be right; Satoru didn‘t die even though he should have and when Suguru was about to leave him, slaughtered village and abducted kids and all, Suguru didn’t do that either, because the thought of leaving Satoru pierced through whatever haze he had been in at that moment.

And if neither of those things could do the trick, then surely nothing can.

“Okay,” Suguru nods and brushes his lips over Satoru’s throat. “Okay.”

Satoru doesn’t verbally reply but Suguru can practically feel him beam down at him and with Satoru that close, it’s easy for him to breathe easy, to believe everything Satoru tells him.

Things will be okay. With them together, there is simply no other way after all.

#bt writes #jjk #june of doom 2024 #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #shoko ieiri #injuries #trauma response #panic attack #love confessions #hurt/comfort #getting together

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follow-my-literature · 1 year ago

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A Palace Full of Cranks - Newt x Reader

— Back to Summary

Chapter One: SHORT GOODBYE'S

NEWT'S POV:

— I had felt a lot of pain in my life, both inside and out, but I believed that very moment, watching Tommy and the others leave me for the last time, was my rock bottom. A part of me desperately wanted to accept the reckless whims of love and friendship. To run off the Berg and join my friends in their quest to find Hans, get their implants removed, and accept whatever came next.

But I'd made up my mind, as fragile as it might be. If ever in my life I could do one thing right, the thing that was unselfish and full of good, this was it. I'd spare the people of Denver my disease, and I'd spare his friends the agony of watching him succumb to it.

My disease. The Flare….

I hated it. I hated the people trying to find a cure. I hated that I'm not immune, and I hated that my best friends were. All of it conflicted, battled, and raged inside me.

I know that I'm slowly going insane, a fate rarely escaped when it came to the virus. It had come to a point where I didn’t know if I could trust myself, both my thoughts and feelings.

Such an awful circumstance could drive a person mad if they weren’t already well on their way to that lonely destination. But while I knew that I still had an ounce of sense, I needed to act. I needed to move before all those heavy thoughts ended me even sooner than the Flare.

I can do this, he thought. For them.

I got to my feet and ran to the bunk I'd used on the flight from Alaska. Throwing what little possessions I owned into a backpack. Including water, food, a knife I'd stolen from Thomas to remember him, and a launcher from Jorge. Then I grabbed the most essential item—a journal and pen I'd found in one of the random cabinets on the Berg.

My breath came in short, stuttered gasps. My chest hurt with the pain of it. My thoughts turned cloudy as my breathing nearly stopped in choaked sobs. I have a plan, don't I? Several plans, depending on the contingencies. But each plan had the same ending—it was how I got there. I will last as long as I write what I need in that journal. Something about that simple, empty little book waiting to be filled.

It gave me a purpose, a spark, a winding course to ensure the last days of my life had reason and meaning. A mark left on the world. I will write all the sanity I can muster out of my head before it is taken over by its opposite. Wiping my eyes and grounding myself before the anxiety attack could take over my body.

The only item left to settle now was how to leave it with Thomas and the others. Maybe give them a little closure. I decide that my journal will survive if it weighs less by one page. I tear out a page and take a deep breath. Pen almost to paper when I stall as if I'd had the perfect thing to say, but it floated out of my mind like vanished smoke. Sighing, I itched with irritation. I am anxious to get out of the Berg and walk away—limp or no—before something changes, so I refocus my emotions. Scribbling down the first thing that pops into my head, I leave the note for the others.

"They got inside somehow. They’re taking me to live with the other Cranks.Its for the best. Thanks for being my friends.Goodbye."

I put the notebook down as tears blur my vision. Was it short and curt enough to prevent them from coming after me? To get it through their thick skulls that there was no hope for me and that I'd only get in the way? That I didn’t want them to watch me turn into a mad, raving, animalistic human? To give my friends the best shot they had at succeeding, it would be with one less obstacle.

Doesn't matter. Doesn't matter at all. I am going one way or another. I scrawl out the rest of what my mind can put together and hope that will be enough for them.

"Even as the darkness whispers across my mind, beckoning with smoky tendrils of blackness and rot, even as I breathe in the stench of a dying world, even as the blood within my veins turns purple and hot, I feel the peace of a certain knowledge. I have had friends, and they have had me. And that is the thing. That is the only thing."

Steeling myself one more moment to panic I stuff the notebook into my bag, double-checking I have all the supplies I need. With a deep breath, I open the Berg doors and look out into the chaos. A mass of disorder, shaken up like dice and spilled across the land. But that wasn’t the scary part. The scary part was how normal everything felt....

— Excerpts from Crank Palace

#thomas brodie sangster #thomas sangster #thomas brodie #tbs #the maze runner #newt the maze runner #newt tmr #the scorch trials #the death cure #crank palace #crank newt x reader #tmr cranks #crank newt #newt x reader #newt x y/n #tmr newt

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always-sleeepy-headd · 8 months ago

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Happy Birthday, Your Present Is Angst Because I'm Tired and Kinda Emo Inside

This was written for Cross's birthday ages ago and I'm only now posting it lol (Sorry!)

Summary:

It's Cross's birthday today, he wants to forget and he tries his hardest too. Although it never seems to work and just leaves him with more scars and more pain.

Cross is beginning to love that pain.

Notes:

Cross burns himself so if you don't think you can handle that I just wanted to let you know.

Also he purges and I know that's a sore spot for a lot of people including myself but I'm tiny bit of a masochist lol (I actually enjoy writing about things that have happened to me or to someone dear to me and projecting on my poor Crossyboo 😔✊)

Don't purge guys, it's not good and can seriously damage your body, and if you have before, I got you babes everything will be alright <3

Even if you're just going through a tough time right now remember everything is temporary, you and I, the world, sadness, you name it, we'll all make it through if we keep trudging on!

_________

Cross wasn't the type for celebrations, it made him nervous and want to hide under something while everyone just chatted it up like they weren't all dead.

He was sure nobody knew this year though, just like the last, and the one before that. A third unnoticed birthday is what he was hoping for when he checked the time this morning, he could go on with his usual day and hopefully not pass out again.

That was really close with Nightmare the other day, he was out training for an especially excessive time and Nightmare came in and had told him to take a break and Cross had barely registered him.

He had turned to the noise but all he heard was a ringing in his ears, he heard Nightmare's voice a second time and he was able to make it out then, "And take a shower or something."

As soon as he heard the door close he had stumbled and blacked out, it was only for barely a minute thankfully. When he got up he found himself on the floor and his heart beating quickly, thank the skies nobody had come in just then.

He had eventually managed to get up and take a shower before being called down to eat dinner, it was a very strange tradition for someone like the Bad Sanses, they always ate meals together. But honestly if you really think about it it makes sense, Horror needed to know everyone was eating, he could go into panic mode if not.

It also made it easier to figure out if something was wrong with someone, that's one of the reasons meals were dreaded in Cross's mind.

That and the fact he can barely handle eating the food, much less keeping it down, and don't get him wrong, Horror's an amazing cook... he just can't. Especially when he's already frustrated with himself.

He barely made it though dinner, Nightmare gave him a few looks but he must have chalked whatever it was up to low self worth and Cross overworking himself, which was what Nightmare thought were the only things wrong with Cross, making it so much easier for him to do what he does next.

Cross's nightly routine always starts hunched over a toilet throwing up his insides and silently crying while doing so, this was easy to do without Nightmare noticing because Dust almost always had at least a small freak out during this time of evening.

Then when he's done throwing up anything and everything he's eaten and kept down he collapses onto the floor and desperately rummages through his box of 'special' things, pulling out a lighter and lighting it across his bone.

The intensity of the heat calms him while at the same time making him restless, he needed something, something.

Anything.

He would burn and burn and he would even shed a few tears at the pain, just to do it again just to feel the heat of reality mix with fiction.

It was like a dream.

A terrible, awful, dream.

That would eventually bring him to today, he was putting on his overly complicated outfit again and would stare into the mirror as he splashed water on his face.

It was cold.

He wanted heat.

The pain of his burns hurt, he wanted more, more, anything for feeling and control, he would run them under cold water and this was the time of day Chara would say something to him. Chara would run off away from him to look for Killer to watch him play video games or mess with the others.

It was always along the lines of, "Cross, this is seriously getting bad," Or, "I think you should let that heal at least before doing it again..."

Cross didn't trust those words, not from Chara, not from anyone.

He walks down the stairs only to see an unhappy Nightmare and a on the verge of a panic attack Dust.

That was not a great thing to start his morning with, oh well he'll just ignore it at least means the attention will stay far away from him this morning.

Cross doesn't bother a good morning, he didn't feel like speaking. Nor did he really ever but that's life.

He walks into the kitchen to see how Horror's doing as he does every morning but Horror seems quite on nerve so Cross doesn't walk too far into the kitchen, it was a small gesture but very much noticed by the big guy.

"Good... morning Cross," Horror starts, sounding a little on edge, "The boss told me to keep everybody occupied this morning... although I know you usually train.. I was wondering if you'd help me out...?" He asks.

Cross was startled but he would never say no to someone asking for help, it's a habit he could never sway, he nodded but in a more 'are you sure?' way.

"Thanks... I asked Killer but... you know how he is..." Horror says, shuffling around, seemingly understanding Cross's not speaking as him not being up to conversation and handing him a bowl and some chocolate.

Cross gives him a questioning look, "Just... heat up the chocolate so it melts..."

"A-" Cross attempts but his voice fails him, "I- Is there a specific reason that I'm heating up... chocolate...?" Cross asks, they didn't usually even have chocolate in the house, let alone anything sugary but it seems Horror either had a stash or got this special to make something.

"Wanted... to make something." That was enough for Cross, he didn't care to question it any further, besides he really just wanted to get Horror's approval.

Cross, without a word, easily heated up the chocolate over the stove, it began to bring back memories of his AU he didn't want surfaced.

The sound of laughter, the taste of chocolate in his mouth, his arms didn't hurt, the worst he felt was a little sore. Speaking to everyone, not holding his tongue, no, actually feeling the urge to speak real words out loud.

The smell of chocolate cake, kind words he'll never hear again-

His palm burning.

Cross blinked in surprise and lifted his arm off of the stove quickly, he had accidentally set it down on the burner and hadn't noticed, the feeling already so normal to him.

Horror looked over at the sudden movement and asked him what was wrong.

Cross didn't respond.

The words were so caught in his throat, they refused to leave, he didn't want to speak, he didn't want to speak, he didn't want to-

"Cross." He hears a powerful and commanding voice that was unmistakably Nightmare's.

Still he didn't speak but his hand fell from where he was apparently clutching it.

"Is something upsetting you Cross? I can feel your emotions you know, so it would be best not to lie, I will know." Nightmare asks, Cross barely understanding.

Nightmare wanted him to speak.

He didn't want to speak.

He turned towards Nightmare, but still he couldn't even manage to get his mouth open.

"Cross, respond to me." He says and Cross could barely even think, his brain suddenly filled with images of his family's death.

A death of his own, maybe.

And then, his lack of food and therefore energy caught up to him yet again, he stumbled and then blacked out.

...

When he awoke he lay on the couch with a damp washcloth on his head and a bandaged hand, he almost panicked but realized his arms had no such care, Nightmare hadn't felt the need to check for other injuries thank gods.

Cross sat up and took the washcloth off of his head, staring at his hand for a moment before a smell hit his nose.

Chocolate cake.

He couldn't handle this, not right now, not ever.

It was his birthday, a day that he dreaded every year now, October 10th, the day Cross was born.

A day he considers to be the worst day of his life.

Celebration was no more, he needed a way out, he needed to get his frustration out, he needed to burn every piece of bone on his body until it was unusable, then use it anyway.

"Cross, you're awake." Nightmare says, startling slightly.

Cross didn't say a word.

"What's going on, you've been strange all week, more so than normal. Your little nightly negativity bursts have been getting larger and more prevalent every night, I think now is when I interfere." He sighs and Cross almost gasps, Nightmare knew something was wrong.

He didn't want to speak, his body would not let him.

He wanted to cry, his body could not.

He wanted to burn, he wanted to burn, he wanted to burn, he wanted to burn-

"Cross. Are you listening to me?" Nightmare's voice suddenly bursts through his thoughts of self harm. "Cross I'm not kidding, have you suddenly gone mute?" Nightmare says, his voice turning stern but softening a second later, "I promise I won't judge if something is bothering you."

Cross manages to open his mouth this time, nothing comes out though. So he closes it, unsaid words threatening to spill out now and that scares him more than not being able to get anything out.

Nightmare sighs, "At least tell me what happened, Horror was terrified..." Nightmare mumbles.

Cross opens his mouth again, but this time it worked, "I... got distracted..." He manages to mumble, his voice hoarse from little use.

Nightmare sighs again, "Distracted how? You end up with a burn on your palm, which you should have noticed right away if you had your hand on the burner by the way, that's really weird and you might need to figure out what that is supposed to mean, Horror is concerned you haven't been eating enough and passed out due to lack of malnourishment, although I'm going to guess it was overexertion, but then again you just woke up-" Nightmare sighs a third time, "My point is, what the hell got you so upset?"

"Ch-" Cross coughs slightly, rubbing his throat, "Chocolate..." He muttered, "The smell reminded me of something."

"...Oh boy." Nightmare says, realizing this was probably a mistake.

"...What...?" Cross mumbles.

"I think I should just show you, follow me." Nightmare says, gesturing to a door.

Cross got up and followed Nightmare without a beat, anything to get his mind off of his-

...

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY CROSS!" Mostly Killer yells, Cross is suddenly hit with a dump truck of emotions.

"I- I- H- How- I don't-" Cross whispers just loud enough for everyone to hear.

"You told me one time when I was upset about something." Dust says, who happens to be covered in colorful streamers.

"And you told me when I was half asleep!" Killer yells excitedly, he's covered in silly string and Cross realizes that Nightmare has a tiny piece of it on his shoulder.

This made him cry.

He didn't cry in front of others, it was so taboo in his brain.

It wasn't sobs, it was just tears, he barely changed expressions.

Everyone looked startled, they had been expecting Cross to say they didn't need to or maybe even get a small smile out of him, not tears.

Killer immediately ran over when he realized what was going on, "Hey, hey, what's wrong? I thought birthday parties were supposed to be happy?"

Cross couldn't explain so it came out in sobs, Killer grabbing onto him while Cross cried on his shoulder.

Killer caught Nightmare's gaze and gave him a panicked look and Nightmare just shook his head.

...

Once Cross had calmed down and there were just occasional sniffles every now and then, they had moved one of the couches, "So... is this why you've been acting strange this whole week then?" Nightmare asks.

"S- Sorry." Cross mumbles.

"Do not apologize for things you are not at fault for."

"Sor- uh."

"Poor Crossy baby, he can't stop being a people pleaser~" Killer says, smooshing his face against Cross's in a manner that could be taken as mocking but Cross knows Killer well enough to know it isn't, still doesn't stop him from shoving him off though.

Killer is undeterred, he just hugs onto Cross harder.

"...Are you... okay?" Horror asks, looking worried.

"...Yeah. I'll live." Cross mumbles an 'unfortunately' afterword that only Killer and Nightmare could hear, Killer squeezed a little tighter at hearing that.

"Why did you pass out...? Do you... know?" Horror asks.

"..." Cross can't bring himself to tell them the way he treats himself when they aren't looking.

"You do know, don't you?" Nightmare asks, his tone only slightly accusing, Cross flinches either way.

"Criss-Cross, are you doing something to yourself?" Killer asks.

"Yes." Is the only word that Cross can manage to get out of his mouth, everyone's frown deepens at the sound of it.

"What...? If I may ask." Nightmare says, even though it sounds like you have a choice, you'll have to tell him anyway, he'll just ask you when nobody is around.

"I can barely eat..." Cross whispers, "And when I manage too, I throw it all up, I can't keep food down anymore, I don't even need to make myself throw up anymore... I can do it on command."

"...What?" Horror says, looking horrified.

"I'm sorry..." Cross says and his voice starts to waver, tears threatening to spill again.

Suddenly Chara's voice pops in, "What about your arms?" They say, "I know you already told them some of your bullshit but every morning when I see them they get worse."

"That's not... the only thing..." Cross mumbles, clutching at his sleeves.

"Of course it isn't." Nightmare sighs.

"..." Cross slowly rolls up his sleeves and a series of gasps and exclaims are heard, one from Nightmare as well.

"W- What the hell are you even doing???" Dust asks, his horror not even hidden.

"Burning." Cross says.

"... How much is there?" Nightmare asks.

"All over my whole body... but mostly my arms." Cross says, wincing.

"I- I don't even know-" Nightmare says, seemingly astonished. "You know what? Come here, let me heal you."

...

Cross was super embarrassed the entire time Nightmare was healing despite Nightmare telling him that it was fine over and over.

It... went away.

The burn is gone.

He needs the burn, the painfully awful heat on his bones to stab at his regret and shove it so deep down it disappears momentarily.

Nightmare notices his... unhealthy... thoughts and lets out a frustrated sigh, "Cross, you do know you're definitely not allowed around lighters anymore right?"

"Okay." Cross says, his emotionless stature coming back, but Nightmare, being so close to him, could feel the addiction in his aura, the temptation and pain that Cross was so good at hiding.

Nightmare frowns at this.

"Come on, I thought we hit something and you wouldn't be an emotionless robot around us anymore." Killer grumbles and Nightmare sends a glare his way, Cross knew Killer was actually worried about him though.

Throughout his entire time at Nightmare's he's seen everyone but Nightmare cry before, Nightmare obviously has his own problems though, he's seen him flinch when he gets glared at or Killer and Dust's roughhousing gets a little too close to him and a hand goes up near him.

They never seem to notice though, they just keep going and Nightmare will sigh and tell them to be nice and that he's going to take a nap. He never does though, he goes and sits in his library and reads what are 'not' romance novels. Cross had seen it himself, Nightmare was reading a book that Cross had read and of what he remembers it was all schmoopy feelings and smut.

He leaned over and said, "Whatcha reading there?" He giggles as Nightmare flinches and turns his head around quickly, his face turning extremely confused as it was not normal for Cross to act like this at all.

"Sorry about startling you, I just recognized the book you were reading." Cross says, holding back giggles.

The horror that showed on Nightmare's face when he said that was unmatchable with anyone he's ever seen die at the hands of any of them.

"You. Didn't. See. Shit. You hear me?" Nightmare had said, Cross replying with a thumbs up and giggling a little.

Nightmare was interesting, although seeing Killer cry was the craziest thing Cross thinks has ever happened.

Killer was supposed to be emotionless, he wasn't supposed to feel anything at all.

And the funny thing about it was that Killer wasn't crying about regret, or his own sadness, or even for someone dead.

Killer was crying about a fake comic about two cats.

Nightmare's face when he heard Killer's sobs in the corner of the room was completely shocked, Killer per usual was sitting on the bright pink beanbag in the corner of the room that had been there as long as Cross has and longer.

As it was just Cross, Killer and Nightmare home at the time, they both had looked over immediately and seen Killer sobbing over his phone, Nightmare had run over as quickly as he could and asked what was wrong.

"The cat dieddd!" Killer responds, sobbing into Nightmare's shoulder.

"...What?" Nightmare had said, confused as ever.

This was also the first time Cross had heard of Color, apparently Color had sent Killer a link to this super cute cat comic about two cats who were siblings but then a human killed on of them near the end of the comic, Color had also apparently sent that 'watch this being back your emotions' and Killer had been like, okay, whatever I guess I'll read it.

But then the cat died and he started sobbing.

Cross had felt bad but then he realized the hilarity of the situation and started to uncontrollably giggle.

Nightmare had looked at him and given the most 'are you kidding me' face in the world and Cross started to laugh more.

Killer's face when Cross started to laugh was so...

Let's just say there was no words to describe the mix of hurt and then awe at Cross's laughter.

Cross didn't emote, that was how it was and how Cross thought it would always be.

Nightmare was the first to change that, then Killer started to hang out with him after that, Cross never realized how funny Killer was. It was hard to see through the insensitive bitchass Killer was when he first met him.

Killer had... changed in his eyes a lot since then, like right now, with Killer hugging on his arm that had already been healed to the best of Nightmare's ability.

Like right now? Killer was the cutest thing Cross thinks he's ever seen.

Killer and Cross weren't dating, neither of them were good enough with their own feelings to deal with eachothers. They liked each other, maybe.

That's how it was and Cross didn't mind, Killer wasn't as much as a bitchass as he'd first thought.

"My apologies about all the festivities Cross, we just were excited that we finally found out when your birthday was and didn't think about how you hadn't said anything for the past three years, or how it might have painful memories attached to it." Nightmare says, finishing with his other arm.

"... I'm fine, I just..." Cross sighs, "My birthday was never a bad thing before... It's not like I have these terrible birthday memories, it just reminds me of... my AU." Cross says, stopping himself before he says family, he couldn't call them that, it hurt too much to think of how they were gone.

"I understand, if you want us to ignore it from now on we will, but I think it might help if your memories of your birthday are not all of things that cause you pain." Nightmare says and Killer nods and whispers.

"I got you a special present." he says in Cross's ear, seemingly excited about it.

"Okay," Cross says, talking feeling so much easier than usual, "I think you're right..."

"Yay!" Killer exclaims, "I can't wait to show you what we got you~!"

Cross exhales and smiles a little at Killer, who sees it and his eyes light up in a triumphant way. "I knew you could smile." He says, getting in Cross's personal space a little.

Suddenly, Cross knew everything would be okay.

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