#i keep forgetting why i used to do ye olde stay awake until i physically can't stay awake routine

[leviathanswingman]

me: i'll be fine being off my meds for a few days until i can get my refill

the first night:

[reylofanfictionanthology]

TO FIND YOUR KISS IS NOW LIVE!  

Authors will be revealed next week!  For now all fics are anonymous.  Treats can be posted through author reveals on 2/21.  We will post an updated masterpost at that time.

To Find Your Kiss collection on AO3 | Treats Masterpost

GIFT FIC MASTERPOST

- Reap the Stars for abbytheatre08

The prompt: After Ben's death, Rey goes mad and turns to the dark side. Only Ben's not dead anymore. ----------------------- She is consuming fire, magnificent in her rage. She will burn the galaxy to its foundations, until the ashes rain down and pile high as mountains. She will gather them into bouquets and scatter them like petals upon his grave.

He will be remembered, and they will not.

Call him The Light Bearer and Joy Giver. Call him He Who Loved and Laid Down His Life. Call him Ben.

- we are question marks that hang above the endless unexplained for AlwaysEverlark

The first time she walked into his club, she was looking for a job. Kylo took one look at her—the stubborn pout of her lip, the determined glint in her eyes, the ruddy glow of her face where the sun had kissed it—and swallowed a lump in his throat that was shaped like the words you’re too good for this place.

They needed a singer. Kira Johnson could hold a tune, knew the old standards, and had a knockout pair of tits to boot. A few slinky ballgowns and a touch of lipstick, and she’d more than do the trick of distracting suckers long enough to part them from their money.

The club solely needed to break even; anything they made on top of the Syndicate’s cut was gravy, and Kylo Ren had been lining his pockets with his own take for long enough that he could see Kira for the lump of clay that she was: rough-hewn, misshapen, but soft and supple and sure to curve under his touch.

- Eighty Bucks Says Sweetheart for Amoreusou

Ben likes puzzles. Rey needs help with a bunch of them. Good thing it's a slow day at the office.

- Seldom Visions for Andrina_Nightshade

After visiting an old Sith temple, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren has fallen into a deep sleep when he pricks his finger on the point of a red crystal. Rey become is the first to find him, but his rescuer isn't just any general or pilot, it's the woman he shares a soul with, who haunts his waking hours, who still sees him even in his sleep.

- The Dyad for aneighthdomain

Based of the Prompt: Groundhog Day scenario. Ben and Rey keep getting sent back to the first time they met and no matter what they do, Ben always dies so they stop trying to change events and just live a life time in the year between and couple of weeks and run away together.

- Saudade: The Love That Remains for AnneAnna

- The Delegation for aNerdObsessed

A humanitarian delegation from Naboo arrives at Niima Outpost. Rey is skeptical, to say the least.

- i don't want you like a best friend for anopendoor

It’s not like she hadn’t seen this coming—Rose told her weeks ago that he was invited. It was an inevitability Rey was always going to have to face, she just didn’t think that Rose would be so merciful as to also give every guest a plus one.

But Rey can’t really be upset—and she is totally, unequivocally not upset—that Ben's bringing someone because, well.

She is, too.

- Love is Weakness for bittersnake

“He’s someone I found on my recent trip to Corellia,” Rey replies placidly, her face practiced in its boredom. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Love is weakness,” her grandfather reminds her, the way he has for years. It’s why he doesn’t love her. He will not be weak. It’s why she doesn’t love him, either.

- in sickness and in health (with health being less likely) for BlueButterflyKisses

Deciding to spend the rest of their lives together is the easy part for both Rey and Ben; the trouble is in how to propose.

- Snowed In for Blueyedgurl

Never in her wildest dreams did Rey Johnson think she would ever get to meet her favorite other Kylo Ren. She also would have never entertained the idea of the scenario she found herself in. How did a hike in the woods lead to a snowstorm and taking shelter in a remote cabin in the woods? The idea was so ridiculous but had become reality. Stuck inside with a handsome stranger surrounded by a winter storm, Rey wonders what will happen with no power and only one bed. Will they be polite co-habitants stuck in a strange set of circumstances or is there room for something more?

- Curses, Comforts and Capybaras for Bombastique

Arrogant CEO bites off more than he can chew when he angers a witch... And suddenly finds himself transformed into a capybara. Can kindhearted wildlife rehabber Rey Niima help him break the curse?

- To Heal a Broken Soul for Cat2000

Ben survives the fallout of Exegol, but his connection to the physical world is in danger. Rey tends to him as she searched for a way to heal him.

- holding me like water in your hands for Ceallaigh

After Hux finds out Ben killed Snoke, Hux encases Ben in Carbonite. Rey refuses to let Ben stay frozen forever so she mounts a rescue.

- Like a Thief in the Night for chagrins

Their bond won't let them be alone. At least this time it's the middle of the night and they can't get into a shouting match.

- The Chance for Crysania

When Rey and Ben, long time co-workers who have never been able to admit their feelings to each other, go on a weekend retreat to work on a movie adaptation script together, a Nor’easter leaves them snowed in. On Valentine’s Day.

- Awake for cuddlesome

Something inside him is awake, and something inside her is about to wake up.

An alternate interrogation scene.

- darkness rises, and light to meet it for czechia

After the throne room, Jedi Ben Solo and Kira Ren meet again a year later.

- Not Quite a Fairytale for DarkMage13

Rey lets a stranger use the phone of the café she works at late one night. It changes the whole course of her life.

- You Won't Escape Me ('Cause I Set You Free) for DoorKeeper9

- The Canvas of Your Skin for darlingreadsalot

She was incapable of touching him without drawing blood, it seemed. Lines like vermillion paint streaked where her fingers sketched down the contours of his face, his back, and now his chest.

In which a Force bond is splintered, a resurrection goes wrong, a kiss is forgotten, and two almost-lovers avoid speaking for the better half of a year.

- Fleeing the Storm for driverfever

As the granddaughter of an merciless aristocrat, Rey’s life hangs on a thread at the hands of the French Revolutionaries. When her childhood friend, Ben, offers to platonically marry her in order to take her to his home in England to safety, she has no choice but to accept.

But her suitor and revolutionary Hux won’t give her up so easily. Hounded by revolutionaries and falling in love, Rey and Ben must use all their wits to flee Paris and make it to England.

- Equal Measure for dustoftheancients

When Princess Rey of Coruscant calls upon the cursed Sir Kylo Ren to help her escape her grandfather the emperor’s political machinations, she discovers freedom in the ancient familial magic that binds them together.

- Benimina Solo's Late On-Set Force Ability for Evangel10n

Benimina Solo has never, not even once, had an ounce of Force Sensitivity. She's done a great deal to move on with her life after failing out of her uncle's Jedi training school. So when Rey Palpatine comes into her life and suddenly everything changes, she's not a happy camper.

- Splatter for expendable

“You’re Palpatine’s girl,” he says coldly.

“His chief of staff, yes.” Rey’s eyes narrow. “And you have your hand on my ass, Kylo. Kindly take it off.”

“Or what?”

AKA powerful corporate rivals Kylo and Rey put the hate in love/hate.

- The Haunted Mirror for FangirlintheForest

When Rey travels to UK to attend the reading of his grandfather will, a grandfather she didn't know existed until that very moment, she finds a house, and a old story that will haunt her...

- i'm your secretary for firelord65

Kaydel pressed her lips together in a thin line, passing a pile of datapads over the desk. “I don’t know what that pretentious nerf herder has put into your brain, but these are tales of the key roles women have played in past rebellions.” She stood, tapping the pile. “They’re great reads,” she added, with a pointed raise of her eyebrow.

- and they danced across the sky for flipflop_diva

When he was still a child, he constantly watched the blue butterflies as they danced in the sky.

They seemed to be calling him, aiding him each instance that icy-cold darkness flowed through his very veins. The magnificent creatures saved him from the voices. They drowned out the incessant chatter in his head. Temporarily cleared away all the anger. During those brief respites, watching those blue wings flutter in the sky, Ben felt free.

But that’s another life. Another world. Another time. Another, another, another.

And Kylo's no longer a child.

No. He welcomes the darkness now. Embraces it.

- Finding The Answer for FrenchMartiniPlease

Rey pines for Ben Solo…so why does her soulmate mark always drain of colour whenever she gets close to him?

- Almost Unforgettable for HopeRebel

The woman in the mirror has blood on her clothes, cash in her bag, and a letter from her husband telling her it's better to forget. Well, he got his wish. She forgot everything-- including her name. And she wasn't the only one afflicted.

It'll take the combined efforts of gumshoes, a flatfoot, a washed-up Hollywood starlet, and more to get to the bottom of this bad business. In the end, these things always come back to the beginning.

- The Curl of a Sigh for irridesca

During the last song in Maxine’s set, a song she announces is called “Soul Companion,” Ben heads back out to the lobby to look for Rey. He finds her not with his eyes but with one broad shoulder, when he bumps into her and knocks her gig bag out of her hands and onto the plush carpet.

- and they were roommates for Lady_of_Haven

When Ben loses a bet to his roommate, Rey, he has to eat her out for 30 days.

- torn away from you (my heart is broken) for lakerose

The Force binds more than minds.

- If You Take Me for literallynoonecares

She sighed wistfully as she watched her two friends lean in toward each other as they danced, their lips meeting and melding together as they seemed to become one person instead of two separate beings. She had seen them kiss so many times, but this kiss … it was special.“I just want someone to kiss me like that,” she mused softly to herself, her eyes not leaving her friends.“I could make that happen if you wanted.”

- 3 Days in Vienna for Like_A_Dove

Kylo Ren, trained mercenary Alpha assassin, is on a mission—assassinate Chancellor Palpatine and bring his underground authoritarian regime to an end. It’s what the First Order demands, for the better of society.

It should be an easy task. He’s been getting close to the Chancellor and his cronies for years. So how is it that the unexpected appearance of an Omega, with a seemingly similar mission—and a wholly inconveniencing scent—become a distraction he hadn’t accounted for?

- Confidence and Desire for LittleLostStar

“Stay afraid, but do it anyway. What’s important is the action. You don’t have to wait to be confident. Just do it and eventually, the confidence will follow.” - Carrie Fisher

- Love brightens even the most monstrous parts of ourselves for LRRH17

No one knows since when the giant, black bear has lived in the forest near Theed. Many stories about the origin of Kylo Ren circulate in the small village. After Rey has run away from Jakku, and arrived in Theed she has heard them all of, but has never actually meet the creature. This changes when her and her friends get attacked by bandits on their way back from Otoh Gunga.

- Your Sweetness Comes With Sugar on the Side for Lutrosis

Rey's daughter loses her mother as she wanders around the Supermarket. Ben finds her and the two connect over both being Type 1 diabetics. They find Rey, and Ben and Rey are instantly smitten. As they date and fall in love they discover that Jade and Ben are connected more than they thought and healing is brought to the Solo/Skywalker clan.

- Allegories, or Allusions to Real Life for maq_moon

“Boys, please stop arguing.” Rose rubbed her temples. “Poe, we get it, you’re childhood best buddies, you’ve got a better grasp on his character than some rando of a rando you met at a party. Finn, for fuck’s sake, we’ve been working with Ben for months. I’m pretty sure if he’s a serial killer or whatever, it would have come out by now.” Finn sat back in his seat, grumbling. “Not how serial killers work.” Rey was going to have a headache if this continued any longer, so she lied through her teeth at the reality of a new player joining their D&D party. "He seems nice." She didn’t trust a single inch of skin on that man. "I'm sure it'll be fine."

- A Mad Man, with a Box for MBlair

Rey and Ben meet, move in together, get engaged, and marry.

- Invite the Wild In for midwinterspring

Kylo Ren, the mysterious senator who appeared from out of the deserts of Jakku and somehow brought them back to life, has spent a long and unproductive session on Hosnian Prime. Now, it's time to go home. After all, there's someone waiting for him and so much for them to do together.

(The ancient Sith had some interesting rituals.)

- Purim Party for MissCoppelia

Rey goes back to visit her foster mother for a Purim celebration. She meets Ben Solo who's visiting his parents, who are friends with her foster mother. They have an attraction to each other right away, but try to play it cool.

- The Banished Heart for misszeldasayre

On Rey of Niima’s nineteenth name day, Jakku gains a new wizard.

Jakku is a withering outpost of the kingdom, and its people hope the new wizard - the mysterious Kylo Ren - will bring them the rains the land needs to heal. Rey is a lonely, clanless girl living in Niima, and she has a secret. One she hopes the wizard will be able to help her with too.

- The Smuggler's Bride for MyJediLife

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- Annabel Lee for myownlittleinfinity

Rey keeps finding these ... notes in her locker. She doesn't quite get them. They seem like love notes, but she doesn't know who they could be from. Meanwhile she's paired up with Ben Solo (who hates her despite her gigantic crush on him) for this English assignment. Who knows how THIS will go.

- with my body i thee worship for niennathegrey

Miss Rey Nemo is the new mistress of Manor Takodana, left to her by the late Lord Skywalker. When a strange man named Kylo Ren appears on her doorstep, she decides to hire him as her new groundskeeper. As Rey faces sinister threats and secrets are revealed, Kylo Ren may be the only person who can save her.

- the losing game for no_big_deal

Sith Princess Rey Palpatine is given a peculiar gift for her Life Day: a Jedi. Not only that, one who is boorish, spirited, and stubborn. But, he presents an opportunity: one that could liberate her from a life under the thumb of her grandfather. She has seven weeks to change his heart before all her freedom is taken from her - forever.

- standing right in front of you for notkellymarie

When Senator Solo's engagement is pushed forward, he and his Jedi bodyguard, Rey, travel to Naboo alone for the announcement ball. The pair despise each other, constantly bickering and disagreeing with each other, which makes spending extensive amounts of time alone together all that more difficult. Until of course, one of them breaks...

- the good, the bad, and the smuggling for OccasionallyCreative

Ben Solo is a seasoned smuggler. And he’s not bad at it, either. But when bounty hunter Rey offers him a temporary partnership he can’t refuse, Ben will find himself pushed to the limits of his skill, patience, and resourcefulness on a job that’s dangerous enough to be his last.

It’s like his dad used to say: bounty hunters are nothing but trouble, kid.

- Whatever our souls are made of...his and mine are the same for Padawan_Writer

Ben and Rey meet only after Kylo has defected from the First Order and returned to the Resistance and his mother. Will the dyad still find a way to be?

- They say that only the dead have seen the end of war for politicalpadmé

“He traded his life for mine,” Rey choked, stomping back and forth in front of him so fast he could barely keep track of her. “He died. He died so I didn’t have to—and it’s not—it’s—after everything he’s gone through—it’s not fair.” Tears were running down her cheeks now, and Poe wanted to do nothing more than hug her, but there was nothing he could say—nothing she would want to hear. Poe remembered all the people he’d lost, all the times he had raged and screamed and cried about the unfairness of it all. “Leia sacrificed herself to bring him back,” Rey declared suddenly, ceasing her constant pacing around the fire as she looked straight at him. “And he sacrificed himself for me—and now no one’s going to know. All he’ll be remembered as is Kylo Ren, but he was—he was so much more.” She exhaled with a shudder and whispered, “He was a part of me, and I—I don’t feel whole without him.” ~

A Force Ghost Ben/Rey love story, with a side of rebuilding the galaxy.

- Cicatrix for Priestly

Getting cut up by Rey on Starkiller awakens something in Kylo.

- I Will Always Be With You for Prix

But she wouldn’t be able to hide her pregnancy for much longer. She was starting to show, and her friends would start asking questions. She would have to give them answers, some of them would not understand, and none of them would accept.

She carried his child. The tiny spark of light woven with darkness, just like her. Just like his father.

—————

The world has gone dark More times than you Or your mother Or your grandmother Can remember. And every hurricane That was meant to be The end of it all Had instead ended In sunshine again.

So believe me When I say; You will survive this And the next one too.

World’s End—Nikita Gill

- all my daydreams are disasters for QueenOfCarrotFlowers

During her search for the infamous Luke Skywalker — the man who predicted a devastating earthquake in New Madrid, Missouri — Rey finds herself entangled in Luke’s family history and with his brooding nephew, Ben Solo.

- on what ground I was founded (when I first saw you) for redbelles

Kylo dreams of Rey after the Battle of Crait. And the yearning is mutual...

Some Force Bond dream smut inspired by "Shrike" and "NFWMB" by Hozier.

- Last Summer for Reykenobi68

Rey had started to get used to Ben not living next door anymore by the time the holidays came around. Then he's back for the holidays. Rey is really expecting things to go wrong after the way he left at the end of the summer. ut is it really going to be that bad.

- The Long Way Home for reylotrash711

In the aftermath of Exegol, Ben and Rey are divided by misunderstandings.  It will take time and danger for them to work things out.

- Under the moonlight for shariling

I don't know why I followed you here. She wanted to reply. Maybe because you're so tall I couldn't help but notice you. Maybe it's because of your hair or the way you move, or maybe it's because of that kind of melancholic look in your eyes. There is something about you that I find terribly attractive and I don’t know what it is: maybe the moon or the alcohol or the wolf I have met before infected me with some strange parasite and now I am hopelessly attracted to dogs, I do not know. She could have said one of these things, any of them, instead she said: “I've never bitten anyone before, and I want you to be my first.”

- Fallen for shipperofdarkness

Prompt: Devil!Ben and Angel!Rey or Angel!Ben and Devil!Rey. How do these two on completely opposite sides fall in love and defy worlds to be together?

- come away with me for silentfleur

Rey owns a tinker shop, but her life changes when she meets Ben Solo and is cursed by a witch. Not necessarily in that order.

- A Picture of Me Without You for SpaceWaffleHouseTM

"I suppose I'd somehow struggle through / But I'd hate to picture myself without you."

It's impossible not to have a soulmark. It's not a big deal, not in the lax and gin-soaked speakeasies of 1920s Manhattan, but it's still a heavy weight to bear, as Ben Solo and Rey find out side by side.

- Lips Raw With Love for stellardarlings

Their kiss on Exegol wasn't their first kiss...

Nor would it be their last.

- Everyone Makes Divine Mistakes for Takekurabehime

Jedi Knight Ben Solo is sent to Naboo on an errand of mercy (and to visit his grandparents). He arrives in springtime; but will he be able to complete his mission without finding himself distracted and bewildered when love and intrigue waft through the fragrant air?

- Glitter & Gold for TearoomSaloon

Rey is lead singer in an up-and-coming glam metal band. They've finally got steady performances, but that means playing at the same club as the Knights of Ren, whose lead singer definitely isn't interested in any competition.

- To kiss like lovers do for the-reylo-void (Anysia)

Ben and Rey spend their formative years growing up together in Medieval Scotland and it looks like they will end up together. Circumstances intervene and Rey loses her chance to be with him. Devastated, she carries on until the day clan Ren attacks Castle Jakku lead by the notorious killer Kylo Ren.

- Snow Turns To Rain for thehobbem

For a moment, he wanted to ask what she meant, but if he was being completely honest, he already knew.  He asked himself that same question over the years, and none more often than tonight, since seeing her again.  Was leaving worth it?  Was going their separate ways worth leaving each other?

 “I’m not sure,” he said finally, shaking his head.  “I’m happy...” he said, and she tensed a little, so he continued, “with my work.  I’m glad I’m doing what I love, but....”

 “But?”

 “But it wasn’t the only thing I loved.”

- Change the Dance for theresonatinglight

- Meet Me in the Woods for thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)

“What do you mean no one goes in there?” A chuckle. “It’s haunted. People see all sorts of weird things in there and some don’t ever come out. You’re better off living with your curiosity.” Rey wakes in a shadowy forest with no memory of where she came from, only her name. With the help of the resident guardian she takes a journey to figure out her past, and maybe even discover her future.

- permanent calligraphy (your name on me forever) for Thursdaygirl

As they continue to work together, two things become clear. One: Ben Solo is an enigma. He’s preppy yet humble, privileged yet introspective. He’s the opposite of lazy; she kicks herself every day for assuming otherwise. And two: Ben Solo will never love her.

- show me the stars. for tmwillson3

“I don’t hate Christmas, I just don’t love it the way you do.” Lifting his head, he pulls a face, loosening up a tangled ornament of a poodle with pink, curly fluff. Rey snatches it from him possessively, tossing it back to the cart. “No one loves it the way you do, to be fair.”

“Now that’s the truth,” says Poe, who Finn invited about half an hour ago to keep him company.

“People have bad taste, I don’t know what to say.” Huffing, Rey scrolls through her phone with more intent. “Neither of you are helping me, anyway.”

“What’s the problem?” says Poe.

“Rey thinks her hot neighbor hates her —”

“He does hate me.”

“ — When really he’s been flirting with her for the past, oh I don’t know, how long have you lived there?”

- I realized that I need you, I wondered if I could come home for VR_Trakowski

Rey is doing exploration work for the Resistance, searching for force sensitive planets so any force sensitives that they find have a place to train.

One day, midflight she finds a slip of paper with the elegant scrawling words of the ones that came before. The ones that she found when Ben still roamed the galaxy.

When she lands on a dark and barren planet she is forced to face the feelings she thought she buried.

- Shadows of the Moon for walkingsaladshooter

The hallways got darker, the corridors grew longer. Shadows stretched across the walls. The ghosts of Breha Manor grew each night.

Rey clutched her necklace. Ben met her gaze.

And every night, there was weeping.

- show the way (the world could be) for writergenie

In the aftermath of the Battle of Crait, Rey struggles to find her place among the Resistance. However, her lingering Force bond with Kylo— Ben— whatever name he calls himself— complicates things, blurring the line between friend and foe.

When the tension threatens to boil over and a desperate plan goes awry, Rey begins to wonder whether there really is a line between light and dark after all.

(Stars do burn brightest in the blackness of space.)

- why don't we go (somewhere only we know) for XarisEirene

The bond snaps back into place, even stronger than before. He is here. With Rey, yes, but with Luke - Luke, who is looking at them now with that same dangerous glint in his eye that haunts Ben’s dreams.

- renewed, transfigured, in another pattern for yodalorian

Rey mourns on Tatooine while Ben is stuck in the World Between Worlds. But neither of them are alone, and blue butterflies light a path back to each other.

[bvccy]

Tenderness and Ferocity | 3. The Dream and the Third Day

Pairing: Winter Soldier!Bucky Barnes x Hydra!Reader Fic Synopsis: The Winter Soldier is starting to make stupid mistakes in the field, which is Bucky's way of trying to wrest back control and sabotage his handlers. Hydra brings a new doctor to figure out what's wrong with him and fix it. As she spends time with him, she becomes fond of the Winter Soldier, and he becomes fond of her. Bucky has other ideas. Or, a fic in which the Winter Soldier is the good guy and Bucky is actually the bad guy. Warnings for this chapter: Angst, Smut, Noncon Word count: 2334 Read on AO3: [link] [Previous Chapter] [Fic Masterlist] [Next Chapter]

"Life in essence can only be sustained because of the discontinuity. Why else does one sleep? Not to rest, but above all to forget. [...] If one could prevent mankind from sleeping, I am convinced that a massacre without end would ensue; it would mean the end of history." — Emil Cioran

All the useless gadgets clattered, without clattering, to the floor. The exposed skin of her back shone against the pressing dark, under a light that wasn't there. Her arms stretched out in front of her to grab the table, to clench in little fists, to crawl away from him... He clasped both her wrists in one heavy hand while he held her by the hip with the other. The stranger looked unfamiliar and out of place, yet boyishly handsome, a lissome thoroughbred cut from pale stone.

He'd already yanked her shirt halfway down her back, leaving a delicate pair of peachy straps to cut into her shoulders as she tried to pull herself up and away. With his other hand, he raised the black flag of her skirt inch by hurried inch. Two flesh hands, pawing at her squirming silhouette.

Those legs that had teased him so were now buckled in a tangle of red lace, at once parted and constricted and leaving her fully victim to him. Above her he loomed, then leaned, slowly down to feel her warmth, his dark green shirt sticking against her back.

In a voice dry with disuse he taunted her to say that she wanted it, to beg for it, though he sounded utterly disinterested and his eyes — he couldn't actually see his eyes, but he could hear that same disuse and disinterest ringing in their glare. She whimpered underneath him but said nothing, insulted from both directions by his grimy touch and transparent insults.

"Ignorance is bliss, isn't it?" said the stranger — but not to him, nor to her — as he buried his face in her fragrant hair and his hips into hers and himself into her... But no relief came, nor satisfaction, and it felt like no matter how close he got to her, couldn't be further away.

He battered and battered and broke through, with great delight at just the effort, and he made tremors rise then relent in her tense legs. Her high heels tapped against the floor in a trembling rhythm that undercut her plaintive moans until he stopped, and settled inside her, and laughed against her shoulder in a harsh exhale. He taunted her over how she sounded, how she felt, how he felt in her.

The more she withdrew, the more aggressively he followed, always fighting her and pulling the fight out of her in honeydew dollops that had nowhere left to go but to seep and stain his nice trousers. Her shoulders went up in a useless attempt to hide, but he squeezed her wrists in warning and bit her shoulder, the nape of her neck, anywhere he could reach that would punish her until she learned to stay still.

"Oooh yesss, that's it... I hate you so much." he laughed in manic joy, eyes falling closed against her throat.

The hand that held her hip squeezed her closer, pressing her so desperately against him like he was trying to crawl up inside and never leave. She whined in pain, muffled by her arms and the table. The stranger cooed against her ear and teased against her hips, turned her inside out and back together, discordant with her mewls and wails as he clung to her and she unconsciously to him the more his galloping pace opened her up and brought her out to meet him.

He wasn't so much pleasing himself as punishing her, and only interrupted his focus to laugh or hiss at some new-discovered throbbing, a frisson to rub against, a frothy surrender that he worked hard to push through until she took it again.

"I'm gonna kill you," he snarled down at her. "I swear I'm gonna kill you..."

No amount of resistance could carry her through his punishing thrusts, and no surrender was enough, and it all went on and on until the threads holding her up started to unravel, leaving her a blushing rough and bloody shade that the stranger could claim as an extension of himself. He rubbed away the parts that weren't base and grimed up what was left. Only thoughtless sounds came out of her now as she struggled to fit him, and fit into him.

The stranger heaved hotly with the effort of holding still, feeling over and through her deliberately and seeking still more, pressing his body down to suppress her new, aching, wet shivers.

With a pain melting through her surrender, down, down into pleasure, she tried to plead with him and she moaned his name, his real name, but after the first flush of recognition he stopped caring because he knew he wouldn't remember it anyway and —

Wait, why wouldn't he remember it?

Eyes shot open only to be greeted by the cement ceiling of his cell. The Soldier sighed and turned his head, looking at the corner where the bulbous little camera was. He looked to the door and saw the parting screen still closed shut — he was awake too early. With a groan, he turned over in his cot and pressed the cold metal hand where he ached.

On their third session, after the guardsmen left, he stepped into the room to find a collection of strange equipment and wires on the table, and a mix of subtle scents coming from two wooden containers. She sat in her chair, waiting for him with a smile, her sleek legs crossed together tightly. She wasn't wearing her lab coat anymore.

"Good morning." she said as they closed the door. "Come on in, sit down. None of this stuff is going to hurt you, I promise."

Reluctantly, he obeyed, his boots sounding slow and heavy through the room as he made his way toward her. He let himself fall in the seat and rested his hands on his tense thighs.

"It's just a GSR monitor. I'll only strap these around your fingers, you won't feel a thing." She demonstrated by wrapping one around her finger, wiggling, holding it up for his doubtful eyes. He had no choice anyway, so he rested his right arm on the table. She took his hand and opened the palm up, holding it gently while her other hand went to a little tube and scooped up a salty-smelling goo.

"For conductivity." she explained as she rubbed it just barely in his tough skin. "Be grateful it's not an EEG, otherwise I'd have to rub this stuff into your scalp. You'd look like a punk that got lost in the rain." she laughed, but it died quickly as the Soldier frowned and shifted in his seat.

Then she took two of the straps and wrapped one around his index, another around his middle finger, and turned his palm back down. She clicked the machine on and it beeped in confirmation, beginning a reading of his skin and what was going on underneath.

In plain terms it was a rudimentary lie detector, meant to scan for stress and some primitive emotions. Maybe he knew that or he didn't, but she could tell she had to work him into it, calm him down before she could get an accurate reading of what moved him.

"Do you know what time it is?"

"You have a watch." he grunted, looking at the worn leather strap around her wrist.

"Yes, but do you know?" she smiled.

"0803 hours."

"Yes. Do you know where we are?"

"Headquarters Alpha 3."

"Good. Do you know what day of the week it is?"

"No."

"Did you sleep last night?"

"Yes."

"Did you have any dreams?"

"No." he said with a sardonic smile. The line on the monitor moved ever-so-slightly, but it could just be a reaction of their tiff about it the other day. Or, he was lying to her again.

They spent the rest of their session with him strapped up to it while she made use of a couple of boxes and the little things inside. With eyes closed, he had to guess what she placed between his fingers: a piece of velvet, silk, a pocket watch, a cufflink, a snow globe.

The edge that separated the Asset from whoever he was before was smudged only so slightly, by necessity, the way it was with all the other soldiers in the program — they could still talk, after all, and read and write, and still employ the complexities of hand-to-hand and armed combat, all things they learned in a past life and used now for Hydra's ends. What made her soldier the best was how sharp that edge was, how steady — until it wasn't.

He retained good coordination, if his finely drawn clock was anything to go by, a steadiness that an unbalanced brain would have found difficult. They had tried, with past soldiers, to split the two brain hemispheres physically, severing the membrane that bridged between them in an effort to isolate the old soldier from the new.

The right hemisphere housed contextual perception and feeling, while the left was honed and focused and precise. They even grew to slightly different sizes, in parts, even though the skull that covers them is evenly shaped. It remained in mainstream medicine a mystery, one that Hydra explored with relish.

But all that resulted from their experimental surgeries were monstrous malfunctions. As it turned out, the left hemisphere dominated most of the body even when separated, and Hydra's soldiers were left imprisoned in the right brain, at best controlling one arm and some eyesight.

Removing the whole left hemisphere also didn't yield any improvements, even after recalibrating what remained. There were even more extreme experiments suggested, but they were deemed too damaging to put the soldiers through, too harmful for staff morale, and too uncertain in their results.

It was clear that a successful subject had to keep all his faculties, all the useful memories in whatever form, while imposing the dominance of the right hemisphere over the left. In a way, the Soldier had been there all along, growing with the unwitting owner of that body, learning, judging for himself and reaching, inevitably, different conclusions.

There always was something slightly more sinister in the right hemisphere, which only emerged when it was freed from the left, or when the left was in a dream state and its control dropped. So it was clear which side Hydra drew its soldiers from, when it freed that part of them with their infernal brain-machines.

The wavering of that edge also explained why her Soldier had such excellent memory, remembering even obscure European countries well, but also their capitals, which Hydra never saw fit to teach him. And as she went through more little things that stood out against the strictures of their base and his missions, it emerged that, though steady, the line that separated her Soldier from someone else was kept at his convenience.

The man underneath was generously lending his memories of what fancy little cufflinks and snow globes felt like, just so the Soldier who had never seen them before could give the right answers. But what she needed to figure out was how much of the control was the Soldier's intention, and how much was unconscious reflex. If the man aimed to sabotage his missions, would the Soldier even know? Worse, if he wasn't aware of anyone else sharing his brain, could he really control him?

Would he want to?

For Hydra, her mission was simple: root out the part that dissents, make it submit. They were too focused on efficiency to know what they were truly asking for. They had no idea how bad it could get, or how good...

"That's enough for now. You can open your eyes while I get the next batch, we're almost done. This last bit is just some food tests."

"As long as it's not from the mess hall."

She was halfway to the sink, a small wooden crate in her hands, when she started laughing. "I promise it's not. So it's true what they say? Way to a man's heart..."

"Is through his rib cage."

Her laughter rang through again, but he kept his eyes straight ahead, focusing on the sound of her running her hands under the water, arranging things on a plate, and wiping her hands dry on the threadbare cloth that hung there.

"Close your eyes now." she spoke as she stepped closer from behind. The plate clinked as it met the metallic table, right by his hand, and he smelled and felt the heat of her as she stood right in front of him.

"I'll give you some things to taste, and you just tell me what they are. And they're all pretty soft. Alright? First one. Open..."

Something was nagging him from the back of his brain again, jeering at him for the childish position he was in, but he couldn't think of anything to feel ashamed over.

"Strawberry."

"Good. Now, swallow and... again..."

"Grapes."

"That's right. This next one is a bit, well... Just open and tell me."

He bit into a soft and shapeless thing that tasted like, if anything, a green paste. "I don't know what this is."

"Avocado. Maybe you've never had it before. Better make a wish, then."

"What?"

"Never mind. Open for me again..."

"Mint?"

"Yes, that's a mint leaf. It's perfectly safe, you can swallow. Now, this one will come in a spoon, so open wide." She let the cloying thing slip on his tongue and the taste spread in his mouth in a way that was familiar but unusual.

"Tastes like... roses."

"Yes, that's rose petal jam. If the Director only knew what I spent my funding on, spoiling you..." she giggled, but it died quickly as he kept frightfully still and his jaw tensed. From the corner of her eye she saw the GSR give an angry twitch.

"Right, one more and we're done. Open, and tell m—"

"Plums."

[thekitsune]

MikaSasha Week Day 5 - Jealous Special Edition

Here’s my other submission today. This one is based off of @llamaalpacca ‘s submission for today. I hope everyone enjoys it!

Honestly, Sasha should have seen this coming. She loved her girlfriend, but she also knew that she didn't have a good childhood. Well, that's not completely right. She was traumatized as a child thanks to her parents' murder, but Levi gave her a nice home. Sasha has met her Uncle, and while he is a good man, he isn't one to give kids plushies like most other adults or show them much physical affection. When she became friends with Mikasa and hugged her for the first time, she was shocked at how touch starved the girl was.

So when they went on their first date a few weeks, she made it her mission to win her girlfriend the largest plushie they had as a gift to remember their date as well as give her a taste of what she missed out on as a child. The excitement and pure joy that radiated from Mikasa the rest of the night let her know that she did a good job.

Now, we come back to the beginning, why did she start rambling on about all this? Well, "Mikasa, you sure you don't want to cuddle tonight?" Sasha asked her girlfriend who was lying next to her...hugging the four foot stuffed panda that she won her like her life depended on it. Mikasa didn't reply as she continued hugging the plushie which caused Sasha to sigh. Glancing over at her phone, Sasha decided to let her friends know how she feeling.

Taking a quick pic, she went onto twitter and proceeded to post:

Ah, yes. Me. My girlfriend. And her four foot stuffed panda.

After uploading the post, Sasha rolled back over and stared at the ceiling. She missed cuddling with Mikasa at night. It always helped her sleep easier at night. Looking over, she saw her girlfriend sleeping peacefully while nuzzling her plushie. Sasha smiled lightly before slowing getting out of bed and walking into the living room of their apartment. She couldn't sleep so she was going to go ahead and grab a snack from the fridge. Maybe that will help her sleep.

Grabbing a snack cake, she walked over to the couch and sat down. Taking a bite out of the snack cake, she turned around and relaxed on the couch as she turned the television on. Keeping the volume low, she happily enjoyed the snack cake while watching some old anime that Mikasa doesn't enjoy watching with her. After finishing her food, she just decided to stay there until the episode finished. As the episode dragged on, Sasha realized something that she was trying to avoid.

"I really am jealous of a stuffed animal aren't I?" Sasha thought to herself with an annoyed look on her face before slowing fading away to sleep.

------

Mikasa yawned as she slowly opened her eyes. Spotting the panda that Sasha won her, she smiled before releasing it and rolling over to hug her girlfriend. She paused though when she realized the other half of the bed was vacant. Blinking in confusion, she sat up and got out of bed. Did Sasha already wake up?

Walking into the living room, she realized the TV was on so she grabbed the remote and turned it off...before realizing that Sasha was spread out on the couch, asleep. Blinking in confusion, she gently shook Sasha awake. "Sasha, Sasha, wake up. You're on the couch," Mikasa told her girlfriend as she continued gently shaking her.

Sasha groaned before slowly opening her eyes. "I'm up, I'm up," she forced out while rubbing her eyes. As the blur in her vision faded away, she saw Mikasa looking down at her in concern. "What's wrong? Did something happen? Are we out of food?!" Sasha shot up on the couch in shock which earned a small laugh from Mikasa.

Shaking her head, Mikasa now sat in the free space next to Sasha and wrapped her arm around her to pull her close. "No, we still have food. I just came in here, and I saw you sleeping on the couch. Are you okay? Why weren't you in bed? I remember us lying next to each other when I went to bed last night," Mikasa asked Sasha who froze up for a second before scratching the back of her head nervously.

"Oh, uh, I was hungry so I came in here for a snack. And I sat down on the couch to watch some anime while I ate. I must have fallen to sleep afterwards, ehehe," she laughed while glancing away which Mikasa easily spotted. Before she could question her further, she heard her phone 'ding' from a notification. Walking over to it, she saw it was a Twitter notification.

"Did you tag me in a post on Twitter last night?" Mikasa asked Sasha in confusion. Sasha narrowed her eyes as she tried to recall what she posted before they widened, and she shot off the couch to try and stop her girlfriend...only to trip over a pillow she knocked off of it in her sleep. By the time that she got back up, Mikasa had already opened the app and saw the post.

Looking at her nervously, Sasha tried to think of something to change the topic so they could forget about this, but..."While I am not happy that you posted a picture of me asleep in bed on Twitter for our friends to see...I'm more curious about the caption and your expression. Do you not like the plushie you won for me?"

Sasha looked down nervously. "It's not that I dislike it. I do like it, and I'm happy that you love it!" Sasha reassured Mikasa, "It's just...ever since I won it...we haven't cuddled in bed. I miss cuddling with you at night as we go to sleep."

Mikasa frowned lightly at this as she walked over to Sasha and placed her hand on her shoulder, "You could have told me."

Sasha let out a light laugh, "Tell you what, that I'm jealous of the plushie I won for you? It sounds kind of pathetic, right?"

Mikasa rubbed the back of the arm. Out loud, it does sound kind of pathetic, but she doesn't blame her girlfriend for feeling that way. It's been a few weeks now, and they haven't cuddled at night like they used too ever since. Now she was feeling guilty. Pulling Sasha into a hug, she rested her chin on her shoulder. "I'm sorry Sasha. It's just, I've never had a plushie, and I guess -" Mikasa was cut off as Sasha let out a small laugh and hugged Mikasa back.

"Yeah, I know how touch starved you are. Plus, I know that you never got to enjoy the feeling of cuddling with a large plushie as a little girl so I don't blame you. I just...miss you at night is what I'm trying to say, I guess?" Sasha stated with Mikasa smiling as she tightened her hug.

"Well, you got me. And tonight, I promise that I will let the panda sleep on his own so we can pick up where we left off," Mikasa told Sasha which earned her a tight squeeze followed by Sasha lifting her up into the air and spinning around with her while cheering happily. ------ A few days later though, Mikasa found herself staring at her girlfriend who was hugging a four foot potato plushie in her sleep. Rolling her eyes, she let out a sigh, "Great, so this is what being jealous of a plushie feels like."

[elisela]

make my wish come true buck x eddie, g, 2k, fluff and sweet drunk boys for @madamewriterofwrongs because for once it wasn’t @tylerhunklin who said “yes write it” after sending me a TikTok

--

“Four,” Buck says. His head is tipped back on the couch, cheeks flushed, eyes bright—Eddie wants to reach out and touch him, to trace the lines of his face with gentle fingertips, to press his mouth against Buck’s and see if his lips are as soft as they look, if they would give way underneath Eddie’s teeth and thumbs and—“no, five,” Buck says, looking over at him. “Six? I dunno, Eds, s’probably time for water.”

“Probably,” he says. He doesn’t move. The kitchen—it’s so far away, and the couch is already tilting a little, pressing Buck right against him, his body radiating heat that Eddie feels down to his bones. He presses a palm down on the arm of the couch, but his stomach lurches as soon as he shifts forward and he gives up. “Gonna regret this in the morning.”

“Long way from now,” Buck says, and his head drops onto Eddie’s shoulder. “Hey, Eddie. Truth or dare?”

“This is a bad idea,” Eddie says. He’s still sober enough to know that Buck’s usual dares take a dangerous turn when they’re drunk—it’s only happened twice before, but he can still recall how cartwheeling into the side of the house had quickly ended the game last time. Still. “Dare.”

“I dare you to do a handstand for five minutes,” Buck says. His breath blows out over Eddie’s skin as he laughs, seemingly already picturing Eddie struggling in his mind.

“Fine,” Eddie says. He still doesn’t move. “I’m gonna puke on your floor though.”

Buck’s arm slides along his waist as he twists, ending up with his face smashed into Eddie’s neck, his weight pressing Eddie back into the couch. “Nevermind,” he says, and he rubs his nose into the crease of Eddie’s neck, laughing again when Eddie tries to push him away. “I don’t wanna clean it—no, stay—”

Eddie relaxes, stops struggling against him, but Buck’s still got most of his body tucked against Eddie’s so he doesn’t feel bad about the hand he keeps on Buck’s waist. “S’this mean I win?”

“No,” Buck says. “I get a do-over.”

“Do not.”

“Do too.”

“Do not.”

“Do too,” Buck says, poking him in the ribs. “You can’t just say you win, Eddie—” the way Buck’s lips brush against his skin drives him crazy, and he’s too buzzed to remember that he really shouldn’t be leaning into it, he should probably pull away, move himself across the couch and to a safer distance, where he couldn’t smell the shampoo Buck uses from the way his hair tickles under Eddie’s nose, “—uh, did you say truth or dare?”

He frowns. “Um. Dare?”

He always chooses dare. Buck somehow hasn’t caught on, but he’s not worried about Buck’s dares, all some variation of physical stunts that will likely result in one of them breaking a bone at some point if they keep it up. But truth—he’s heard the questions Buck asks Maddie, asks Chim. He can’t risk that Buck wouldn’t dig straight to the bottom of his soul if he got a chance.

“I dare you to get us water,” Buck mumbles.

“Okay,” Eddie says, and neither of them move for several minutes. Buck’s head gets heavier on his shoulder, and Eddie feels his own tilt down until his cheek is resting on Buck’s forehead. It’s—gravity. Alcohol. Nothing he’s doing of his own volition, just—”you still awake?”

Buck hums. “I’m hungry. Let’s go get tacos.”

His stomach turns over. “Pancakes.”

“Oh, those dumplings you like at that one place—”

“The one by—”

“No, the other one,” Buck says. “Think they deliver?”

“Not at three in the morning,” Eddie says. He doesn’t really know what time it is, but it’s been dark for hours now, so—maybe.

“You ever been to San Francisco?”

“Not since I left my heart there,” he says, and snorts when Buck makes a confused noise. “It’s—nevermind. No. Have you?”

“”m gonna take you ‘n Chris,” Buck says. “There’s a place, they have these green onion pancakes—it’s amazing. I dream about ‘em.”

“When’d you go to San Francisco?” He’s heard Buck’s life story, knows the trips he’d been on with his family, the route he’d taken through South America and up through Mexico before landing in Los Angeles. Nothing further north than L.A. had ever been mentioned.

“After Abby,” Buck says. “Drove up the coast, tried to get used to being alone again. Didn’t need to, I still got you guys.”

His throat is only dry because of the alcohol. God, he wants. He wants to tell Buck that he always has him, has Chris, that as long as Eddie’s alive he’s going to wait until Buck decides he wants him. He thinks—well, he’s never quite sure if he’s reading things the right way. There’d been the ghost of Abby, then Ali, then a long stretch of no one until Buck had started to make comments about dating, about finding someone, but—nothing ever came of it. And every time Eddie thought, this isn’t something just friends do—like this, this cuddling on the couch with Buck’s fingers pressing idle patterns against his skin—he’d turn around and see Buck getting just as close with Hen, his feet in her lap on the couch at work, or catch him flirting with other people.

It’s fine. Eddie’s just not used to friendships like this, such tactile, vulnerable relationships, but he can live with it, even if he constantly wants more, even if he sometimes would bet on Buck wanting more, too.

“You ever go?”

“No,” Eddie says, even though he’s pretty sure Buck had already asked. His hand is in Buck’s hair, somehow, scratching the pads of his fingers against Buck’s scalp. “Want to.”

“Let’s go,” Buck says. “Trade our next shift, we can take Chris—”

“Our next shift is Halloween,” Eddie says, and there is absolutely no one who will trade them if it means they end up working on Halloween.

“The one after that, then we have six days—there’s the bridge and Chris would love Alcatraz and we could drive up—”

“You don’t have to convince me,” Eddie says, a yawn interrupting his words.

“Cool,” Buck says, and Eddie can always tell when he’s smiling by how his voice sounds. “But ‘m still hungry.”

“Water.”

“Carbs,” Buck says. “Oh, sourdough bread. You think Uber Eats can bring it?”

“I think we should have water and go to sleep,” Eddie says, but again—he can’t bring himself to move. Buck is warm against him, soft and happy, and Eddie would stay awake all night if it means getting to touch him like this, getting to drop his chin down so that his lips almost brush Buck’s forehead as he speaks, a poor imitation of the way he wants to kiss him.

“You remember the sourdough french toast we had last Christmas? Where’s that? I want it.”

“Chris wants a dog for Christmas,” Eddie says, dropping his hand to the back of Buck’s neck and squeezing. The groan it draws out of Buck is enough for him to squeeze harder, and the little gasping noise he makes when Eddie rolls his thumb up behind Buck’s ear—“I think I’m gonna give in.”

“You should,” Buck says. “A big one. What do you want for Christmas?”

“Someone who will take care of a dog when Chris inevitably loses interest in twice-daily walks,” Eddie says, shaking his head. It bumps his chin against Buck’s head, and he catches himself just before he presses an apology kiss to the spot. “Dunno. It’s October, I haven’t thought about it. What do you want?”

“You,” Buck says sleepily. “And carbs. Maybe together, like, at the same time. Oh, you know those banana muffins you make and you make them into pumpkin muffins for Halloween? Do you have Christmas muffins? Like—wait, what would you put in Christmas muffins?”

“Maybe eggnog,” Eddie says, and then he blinks when everything Buck said filters through the haze covering his thoughts. “Wait. Did you—”

“Eggnog in muffins? Eddie, that’s gross.”

“‘s’not gross,” he says, because he makes amazing eggnog french toast—well, Sophia makes it, same thing—and he can’t see why eggnog muffins wouldn’t be delicious as well, but really there are more pressing issues here like “did you say—”

“You.”

His hand stills on Buck’s neck. “Like,” he says, slowly, trying to force reason through everything he’s had to drink tonight, “like—you want to spend Christmas together?”

Buck snorts, but he doesn’t say anything for a long moment and Eddie wonders if he’s drifting off to sleep, or if he’s having the same trouble trying to think clearly. “If that’s what you want me to mean,” he says finally, yawning. “You’re right, we should sleep.”

“I want to know what you meant,” Eddie says, and a second later Buck’s hand is cupping his jaw and pulling him down, tilting Eddie’s head as he brings him into an open-mouthed kiss; Eddie tastes the bitterness of the vodka on his tongue as Buck kisses him, swallows down the soft noises Buck makes, keeps his hands absolutely still against Buck’s body like if he moves it’ll break the spell. “If you forget this in the morning—” he says when Buck pulls away, and Buck laughs softly as he moves away, shaking out his limbs before standing up.

“I won’t,” he says. “Come on, you can sleep in my bed. I’ll keep my hands to myself, I promise.”

“I—” can’t make that promise, he thinks. His lips are still wet from Buck’s kiss, and he shakes his head. “No, I’ll sleep here. Don’t—just—”

“You worry too much,” Buck says, “I’m a little buzzed but not so drunk I’ll—” he trips over an errant shoe as he passes by, and Eddie reaches out to steady him. “Okay, just because I tripped doesn’t mean—”

“Just go to sleep,” Eddie says. “Goodnight.”

“Eddie.”

“Goodnight,” he says again, because maybe he can forget—or not forget, but convince himself that one kiss doesn’t mean that much, that the thrill it sent up his spine was just because it’s been so long, that—

“Goodnight,” Buck says, and he bends down to kiss Eddie’s forehead before he stumbles his way out of the living room and up the stairs. “You can come join me when your back starts to hurt, old man.”

Eddie flips him off, even though Buck can’t see, lays down, and prays.

-----

“God,” Buck groans the next morning, cursing loudly when he runs into a chair and it scrapes against the floor, “death would feel better than this. I want coffee. Come make it for me.”

“Just because I cave to a ten year olds whims doesn’t mean I’ll cave to yours,” Eddie says, pulling his arm down from where it had been over his eyes, blocking the sunlight. “Do you have to have so many damn windows?”

Buck’s been up for ten minutes, talking loudly to Eddie the entire time, and it’s all Eddie can do to lay there and pretend like his heart isn’t breaking. He knew it, he knew, he should have—stopped him, or something. Should have let the “you” go unanswered, ignored it, realized that being lonely and drunk caused a person to do things they didn’t mean and make promises they wouldn’t keep.

He closes his eyes again as Buck walks over to the couch, lets himself be manhandled into a seated position while Buck sprawls out next to him. He can do this—it’s just the same kind of contact they usually have. He’ll be fine.

“Whatever,” Buck mutters. “Here, I want you to listen to this,” he says, nudging Eddie until Eddie opens his eyes and looks at him. “Ready?”

“Sure,” Eddie says, waving a hand weakly. He’s not sure what he expects, but bells and Mariah Carey in October is definitely not it. “Buck.”

“Told you I wouldn’t forget,” Buck says, leaning against him. “I’d kiss you again but something died in my mouth overnight—”

Eddie leans over and hits the pause button on Buck’s phone. “I’m telling everyone you played me All I Want For Christmas is You, you know.”

“Good,” Buck says, grinning. “It was pretty romantic of me, right?”

“I think we have a very different idea of what is or isn’t romantic,” Eddie says, but he turns his head to the side and presses a kiss to the corner of Buck’s smile, then another, and has to pull himself back before he does anything else. “Let’s go talk about it during breakfast. I’ll take you out.”

“It’s a date,” Buck says, and leans in to kiss him again.

[freebooter4ever]

The final part of this fic series which no one asked for but i finished anyway lol - third section deals with fighting in the rain on Okinawa, coming home, and settling down together in a house.

---

In the beginning of the campaign, Okinawa is a respite from the heat. After the easy landing, and the easier invasion, many of the guys start dropping their guard. It's too tempting to revel in the cool air, and ignore the minor discomfort (compared to battle) of hauling heavy packs along muddy roads. But every night in their foxholes they remember they're at war.

One night, when Eugene wakes Snafu up for his watch, he also leans in for a quick peck on the lips. Snafu thinks Eugene's finally lost it. He keeps one careful eye on Eugene and refuses to sleep for an entire day and a half after that. Yet during every switch of their watch, Eugene continues to kiss him. Like it's normal, like it should be expected. Snafu gives in. If it's just the two of them in their hole, he lets Eugene snuggle in close. Snafu starts sleeping better, and when he wakes Eugene for his own watch, Snafu starts kissing him too. There's never any urge for anything more, with the long heavy marches and the constant state of slight hunger, having any feelings beyond numbness is hard. But the little kisses are a reminder of good things. Snafu indulges in the comfort of them so much that the one time they share a foxhole with Burgie, Snafu completely fucking forgets himself. Earlier in the day they'd found a source of fresh water and Eugene washed his whole head, scrubbing the grime from his neck. His lips are bright and pink again, and when Snafu catches sight of them in the dim light of a flare as he goes to wake Eugene up for his watch, Snafu doesn't stop to think. "Sledgehammer," Snafu whispers in Eugene's ear. He pulls back just enough to make eye contact and ensure Eugene's awake. And then Snafu dips in for a kiss. Their helmets make the familiar soft 'thud' when they collide, and for a minute Eugene melts into Snafu, and kisses back. Then Eugene suddenly shoves Snafu away and glances over at the third person sharing the foxhole with them. Snafu glances at Burgie too, wide eyed, and scared, and wondering how this is going to go. Burgie doesn't even look shocked. "You guys think you're quiet but I kept having to leave the tent on Pavuvu almost hourly just to escape the noise from you both." "Shit," Eugene swears. "Stop watching me, watch the line, get your head on straight Sledgehammer," Burgie orders, "I'm not going to say anything to anyone. And the only reason I'd tell you to quit it with the kissing is if you end up in a hole with someone else less understanding. Understand?" "Sure thing, Burgie," Snafu says with a wash of relief. Burgie becomes their automatic third whenever the company is divided into groups, and Snafu stops trying to hide his affection for Eugene during that time. Eugene is a little more reserved. Snafu is the one who needs constant physical contact whenever he can get it. Something as simple as gripping Eugene's hand while they are waiting behind a rock for their march to get moving again is a lifeline. But living on top of each other also means lashing out when the real battles get too much to handle. Once the rain starts, and almost washes them away alongside the mud, the lazy sunny days of marching seem like fond memories. Snafu is cold and wet and his body won't stop shivering with it. Long after Snafu gives up, Eugene continues to try and dig their private little foxhole like the stubborn asshole he is. "Don't even bother," Snafu trills at Gene from underneath the tarp where he's huddled with Burgin and Hamm, "Nobody wants to squat in a cold stinky bowl of muddy water tonight." "We need a foxhole," Eugene demands angirly. Snafu sighs. They're not at the very front line, there's no compelling reason for Gene to be this insistent. Snafu knows what Eugene really wants - without a foxhole, without somewhere to hide, the two of them won't be able to share each other's warmth. Plus out of all of them, Eugene is the least likely to ever break protocol. He goes by the book, he swears by it to stay alive, and his foxhole is always an exact depth and five feet from everybody else no matter what. Usually Snafu admires this about Gene. Tonight it's driving him nuts. "Sit down, Gene!" he orders. "Not until I can sit in a damn hole!" Eugene yells back. They shout at each other for longer than Snafu feels comfortable with. If Eugene were to decide that Snafu isn't worth putting up with anymore, Snafu isn't sure he would survive. "Fuck you Eugene," Snafu whines

halfheartedly as the yelling slowly peeters out. "Fuck you too, Shelton ," Eugene spits and throws down his entrenching tool. His anger is slower to fizzle out. But Snafu can see how hard he's trying by the set of his shoulders. He doesn't want to be mad at Snafu either. "Why don't you come over here and lend a hand? 'stead of sitting there like a bump on the log?" Eugene suggests, only a tad snippily. Snafu closes his eyes and grimaces. He shakes his head and raindrops fly off his helmet, "Gene...just…" he flops his arm out of the poncho and makes an awkward beckoning gesture. Eugene sighs and squelches over to sit beside Snafu. Snafu leans against him until their heads are touching. Eugene lets him do this. So Snafu takes it a step further and scoots his entire body over until they're flush against each other. When he gets away with that too, Snafu daringly presses his face into Eugene's neck. He's so close he could lick the rain and dirt off Gene's skin. "I can feel your stinking breath, Snafu," Eugene complains. Snafu just takes a deeper breath and exhales. It's a testament to how much Eugene loves him that he doesn't automatically shove Snafu away. Eugene pulls his helmet off, tilts his head up to look at the rain and feel it hit his face. Snafu leans back a little to watch him, enjoying the sight of the water running down his neck. Eugene always looks beautiful when wet, no matter how frustrated Snafu is at him. Unexpectedly Eugene's eyes dart to Snafu. "Snaf…!" He exclaims quietly, realization dawning in his eyes, "On Pavuvu...in the rain, you had that same dazed look. You were watching me, weren't you?" Snafu bites his lip and looks away. "Was that the reason for the…you know… after…" Eugene's brain is doing some quick thinking and Snafu can see it in his eyes. 'Yes Sledgehammer,' Snafu wants to say, 'I watched you scrub your supple body in the rain and got such a boner, it gave me anxiety.' Instead he shrugs. Eugene starts laughing. "I was all wet," Snafu says defensively, "Couldn't hide a thing." Eugene keeps laughing, almost going hysterical. "It shouldn't have happened. Don't know why it did," Snafu insists, "You dropped the fucking soap. You said 'whoopsie daisy'. Who the fuck even says that anymore except for old geezers?" Eugene just laughs. "What are you guys talking about?" Hamm asks "Nothing that concerns you, Hambone," Snafu says warning. "Snafu, leave him be," Eugene says with a vague annoyance in his voice, "And stop calling him that." Snafu smiles. And then cuts his eyes at Eugene, "Shit, you're jealous. You miss being the only one with a special nickname? That it?" "I said…" Eugene states calmly, "Leave it be." "Don't you worry, Sledgehammer," Snafu teases, "No nickname is as special as yours." "Mer…" Eugene warns, using his own personal nickname for Snafu as if it's a threat. Something he usually only whispers when no one else can hear. "Bon Bon," Snafu says gleefully. Eugene glares at Snafu. "Bon Bon?" Hamm questions. "Bondourant," Snafu explains, "Sledgehammer's middle name." "No one calls me that," Eugene grumbles and crams his helmet back on his head. He shifts further down into the mud and compacts himself into a pissy huddle under his poncho. "Even you don't call me that," he accuses Snafu. "Might be a missed opportunity there," Snafu says, "could'a caught on faster than 'Sledgehammer' if I'd thought of it first. Fits you better. Kinda like 'Hambone' makes more sense than two 'M's." "Shelton, just leave everybody alone," Eugene complains. Snafu can hear the real anger in his lover's voice now. The humor, and the teasing somehow soured the mood instead of lightening it. He doesn't understand how Eugene could possibly be jealous of something as silly as a nickname. Feeling bereft, Snafu wiggles his arm out of his own poncho and under Gene's, but secretly so no one catches on to what they are doing. Snafu persistently tugs on Eugene's sleeve until Gene relents and moves his hand closer so Snafu can grasp it tight. Snafu squeezes his hand and Eugene finally

turns to meet his eyes. Snafu's apology is wordless, but it works. Eugene scoots over to Snafu till they are huddled together once more. "You guys an old married couple or something?" Hamm jokes when he sees how they've 'made up' after their fight. "The equivalent of it," Burgie answers with some humor of his own. "Burgie's jealous," Snafu quips. "Don't start, Mer," Eugene tells him quietly. "He misses his Aussie girlfriend," Snafu continues, "Wishes he had what Gene and I've got right here…" Snafu grins, like it's all a joke. "What do Gene and you have?" Hamm asks. "Absolutely nothing," Eugene says coldly. It's entirely too believable for Snafu's comfort. Which shuts him up real quick. Snafu thinks maybe he went too far. Maybe he revealed too much in front of Hamm. Unfortunately what Hambone does or doesn't know quickly becomes a moot point. In a flash the green boot is gone, and Eugene and Snafu are alone in their foxhole once more. As the guilt sets in, Snafu distances himself. He stops giving Eugene little kisses, he stops touching him altogether. Eugene doesn't seem to notice. He certainly doesn't react. After peace is declared, the options for Snafu's life narrow considerably. Everyone else starts thinking about 'what next'. He can't relate. He should be on the first boat home, before anyone else in K Company. He's got extra points from his battle on Gloucester which technically puts him months before Eugene on the list. But when he thinks about heading home without his Sledgehammer, he feels physically sick. He starts avoiding Gene in order to avoid this illness… until Burgie catches on and finally confronts him. "Snafu, what the hell do you think you're doing?" Burgie demands. Snafu blanches at his tone and thinks about slinking away silently, but quickly realizes Burgie has him boxed in on all sides. They're in the mechanics shop and Snafu is tinkering with an unused boat, hoping to sneak it out for joyrides round the island. The shop is small and everywhere Snafu turns there's Marines and work being done. Burgie is blocking Snafu's only route for escape. "If Florence was here I would not be wasting so much time," Burgie glares at Snafu. "Except what you and Florence get up to is legal," Snafu says evasively. "Is that what's bothering you?" Burgie looks deeply flabbergasted, "You think Sledge will… rat you out? Or something?" Snafu glances around surreptitiously and juts into Burgie's personal space to whisper, "Nice Alabama boys don't break the law." "Snafu, you know Sledge cares more about you than dumb laws," Burgie hisses, "Stop hiding from him." "He always knows where to find me," Snafu turns back to his boat and pretends Burgie isn't there. "Chicken," Burgie says. "I'm not the one clucking like a mother hen," Snafu retorts. "Yeah but you're the one fucking your own life up," Burgie says. "Naw," Snafu argues, "I'm making sure not to fuck his." "Grow up, Snaf," Burgie mutters. Snafu makes a chicken clucking noise as Burgie walks away. But as soon as Burgie is gone, Snafu throws down his tools in frustration at his tinkering not fucking working, and then kicks the hull of the boat in anger. He breaks his big toe. And is officially ordered bed rest until further notice. Eugene is the one to bring him ice packs round the clock as Snafu is laid up in bed. Snafu can hobble to and from the head, but that's about it. The tent they're stationed in is huge and always full of people so Snafu can never respond properly to Eugene's unasked for kindness. The most he does is say grudging 'thank you's whenever Eugene drops off ice or food while on his way to work detail or to borrow a new book or whatever it is smart boys do in their free time. Snafu can never tell if the new distance between them is killing Eugene as much as it's killing him. The minute Snafu's foot heals, he gets assigned work duty, as if to make up for all the time he missed. He grudgingly accepts this, partially because fair's fair, but also partially because it keeps him out of Eugene's hair. He toils during the day, and

sleeps fitfully at night, and lounges on the beach every chance he can get. Every once in a while he'll look up and catch Eugene's eye on him. But the boy never says anything. The only time they work together is when the higher ups announce a big storm is predicted to hit in the coming days. "Big Storm" is putting it mildly. The locals whisper about typhoons and deadly winds, and entire ships stuck out on the ocean. And Snafu and Sledge are the only two guys determined to fasten down their company's tent. They don't talk as they prepare, simply exchange one loaded glance. Both of them grew up on the southern coast, both have seen angry storms, they know not to underestimate the power of mother nature - especially if the locals are afraid. They fall into a familiar pattern working together, kind of like digging their foxhole in tandem. Snafu has his own particular storm preparations, and Eugene's got his. They lend a hand to each other when needed and get out of each other's way when not. By the time they're done, K company's tent is the sturdiest on the island. Snafu doesn't know if Eugene suggested his improvements to the other guys. Snafu certainly didn't share any information. Either way, definitely nobody told the officers because during the height of the storm, when Snafu is huddled in his cot, covers wrapped around himself as tight as can be to ward off the chill, a bedraggled private drags open their tent flap to announce company K is called to duty. At first Snafu can't believe it. He stares in horror as this green replacement undoes all his and Eugene's hard work, opens the flap, and lets in a torrent of rain water. The K company men in the tent hastily jump to action, if only to be able to close off their safe and secure dry oasis once more. Unfortunately, it also means closing up the dry oasis while they are standing outside it getting drenched. The six of them make their way across the camp. Snafu's baggy ill-fitting shorts are already making it hard for him to walk. The wet fabric hangs heavy on him, only held up by the fraying rope he pulled through his belt loops. The officers keep saying any day now they'll receive a supply drop of new service uniforms for the enlisted men. But that was weeks ago. Snafu hits an uneven patch of mud and his foot goes out from underneath him. In an instant, Eugene stops him from falling on his ass by colliding with Snafu's back and propping him up. Snafu didn't even know Eugene was following him closely enough to be there so quick. "Are you okay?" Eugene whispers in Snafu's ear. Snafu nods. "I meant your foot," Eugene elaborates, "Is your toe okay?" "Yeah," Snafu croaks. Yeah, he's okay. He's in Eugene's arms again. He's got Eugene's breath on the back of his neck and Eugene's chest pressed up against his back. It'd take a typhoon the size of his great aunt Tilly to get Snafu to leave Gene's embrace. Or perhaps the barked orders of an angry, wet, tired NCO. "Hurry it up back there!" the NCO yells at them, barely able to make himself heard over the wind. Snafu reluctantly extricates himself from Eugene's arms and continues walking. Their company is tasked with restoring an officer's knocked down tent. Why they're being told to do this in the middle of the storm is anyone's guess. With grim faces and bitter determination, they follow orders and get to work. Snafu can barely see through the rain, but even with such poor visibility he can tell the tent is sloppily built. He exchanges a commiserate judgemental look with Eugene. Eugene recognizes poor construction too. "All right men, everybody take a corner," Burgie announces. "If they had us do this a few hours ago before the damn storm even started…" Eugene complains beneath his breath at Snafu. Snafu sympathizes but he does as he's told, because he's still a Marine. But then again, the war's over so he allows himself a few grumbles while he does it. And he circumvents orders to peek his head inside the tent and see exactly whose ass they're saving here. Lightning flashes and he gets a good glimpse. The

occupants don't surprise him. Snafu nudges Eugene in the ribs to make Eugene pause his work battening down the ropes. "What?" Eugene hisses. "It's a couple of replacements," Snafu informs him, "Fresh from home. Don't even got mud on their boots yet." "You're kidding me," Eugene says flatly, sounding as if he's at the end of his own rope. Snafu shakes his head. "Fuck," Eugene curses under his breath. Which is a big deal for Eugene. "We've only got one pair of pants each," Snafu mutters, "We're gonna go to bed with wet asses cause these guys couldn't bother to do their own tent properly." Eugene shakes his head angrily. He grips the rope tight, takes a deep breath, and his jaw juts out in that stubborn way of his that means trouble. Snafu loves that look. He knows that look intimately. "Burgie," Eugene whispers sharp. He leans away from Snafu and towards Burgin on the other side of him. Snafu can't hear what Eugene says, but he must have told Burgie about the owners of this tent they're saving, because the next thing Burgie does is issue a new string of nonverbal instructions. The men stare at him. They can see the gestures Burgie is doing, they know what he's telling them, they just can't believe it. Snafu doesn't question Burgie's orders - not that he ever would - but this time he follows them wholeheartedly. Snafu, Eugene, Jay, Stringbean, and Burgie let loose their ropes simultaneously. The tent collapses, the replacement officers get drenched, and Burgie fakes outrage over the 'accident'. And they all laugh about it afterwards in the privacy of their own tent. As soon as they duck under their tent flap, Snafu explodes in giggles. He leans against Eugene and cracks up, unable to stop himself and desperately hoping he hasn't gone crazy. Eugene joins him, indulging in a good satisfied chuckle over the officers getting their just desserts. Their slightly hysterical joy is catching. The men make jokes, give each other congratulatory slaps on the back. The mood in the tent goes from being miserable and self-pitying, to one of humor. The camaraderie warms Snafu. He feels within his place in the world in a way he never did back home. He knows this is partially why he's so reluctant to leave. The guys are triumphant, feeling they've bested their superiors and gotten away with it. No one but Snafu is thinking any sort of serious thoughts. "It'd be our ass if they knew we done that on purpose, " Snafu warns despite his grin. "Who's going to tell them?" Eugene challenges, "You?" Snafu laughs and his smile widens. He hasn't seen Eugene this happy in over a year. The moment would be absolutely perfect… if it weren't for the damp canvas currently sticking inside Snafu's butt crack. "I'm sick and tired of being wet!" Snafu cries as he kicks his sandal-boots off and strips down to the nude. He throws the offending wet shorts across the tent. They hit the wall and stick for a minute before plopping to the ground. The men around him laugh and agree. Snafu decides tonight is for sleeping bare assed as the day he was born, and crawls under his cot blanket without hesitation. "Snaf's got the right idea here, Burg," Eugene says and yanks his own pants off. A bunch of the other guys follow suit until there is a large pile of wet shorts in the corner of the tent. Burgie shakes his head and affects a stern look, but everyone knows he won't enforce the dress code tonight. And as people dry off and become more comfortable, slowly one by one they drift off to sleep. Except Snafu. Snafu tosses and turns under his blankets. He may be dry, but he's still freezing his ass off from the biting wind. "It's so fucking drafty," he complains loudly to the room at large. No one answers him. "I'm so damn cold," he whines. Again without answers. "First they stick us in a hundred degree heat, and then they make us sit through a typhoon with nothing but ratty blankets," Snafu complains. "Go the fuck to sleep, Snafu," Bill Leyden lovingly throws a shoe in Snafu's direction. He misses. "Maybe if you're quiet you'll warm up,"

Eugene suggests. "Pretty sure that's not how it works," Snafu retorts, "Shouldn't you know? Being so educated and all?" He refuses to stop complaining. The guys groan every time he opens his mouth. Until finally Eugene, sick to death of Snafu's whining, throws his own blanket on top of Snafu's for added warmth. Snafu is surprised that Eugene would sacrifice his own comfort to make Snafu feel better. "Real martyr that Eugene," Bill comments, "Taking one for the team to shut shit-n-ass up." Eugene doesn't say anything. He simply climbs out of his own cot, and scoots into Snafu's from behind, pulling the double blankets over them both. Which shocks Snafu even more. "Isn't it gonna be hot under there with the both of you?" Bill asks obnoxiously. "No worse than all that hot air filling your head," Eugene retorts. The guys laugh, and Eugene's change of sleeping arrangement becomes a joke rather than what it actually is. "I always sleep better if I'm sleeping on top of somebody," Snafu announces, feeling brash. Bill laughs and whistles provocatively. Burgie sighs "Prove it then, go the fuck to sleep, the both of you." Unbeknownst to everyone around them, under the cover of darkness, Eugene's arm snakes around Snafu's waist and pulls him flush against Eugene's body. Gene presses his face into the nape of Snafu's neck and whispers almost silently, "I still love you. I will wait for you." Snafu shivers and pushes himself closer into Eugene's embrace. He doesn't have to respond. He simply locks his hands around Eugene's to keep him in place, and closes his eyes. They both fall asleep within minutes. He really does sleep better in Eugene's arms. The tension between them breaks. Snafu gradually lets Eugene back into his life. When they're transferred to China, he follows Eugene on all Eugene's hair-brained educational schemes. They even get their own room in the British Ligation, just the two of them, with two cots though only one is ever used. Snafu becomes accustomed to sleeping beside someone. Months later, Snafu's precious bubble of happiness in China breaks - they're both sent home. And too soon the familiar words 'New Orleans' wakes Snafu with a start. The train underneath him is still rocking, but the movement is slowing. Soon they'll be stopped. Presumably at the station where he's supposed to be getting off. Still exhausted in a weary way that won't change for a long while, Snafu drops his head back against the soft pillow he's been sleeping on. And then remembers who it is. He cranes his neck around and sees Sledge still sleeping peacefully. Snafu is tucked up against Eugene's side, with his head against the fat of Eugene's arm and his hand near Eugene's stomach. Snafu props his chin on Eugene's shoulder and watches him sleep. Eugene's a funny sleeper. In all the years Snafu has known him, half the time it seems Gene sleeps so deep nothing could wake him. The other half he wakes at the slightest provocation, and Snafu can never predict which to expect. Snafu palms his hand over Eugene's stomach, just so he can feel Gene's body move one last time before he leaves. Eugene doesn't even notice, he continues dozing with a slight snore. Snafu remembers falling asleep on Gene's shoulder a year ago, and playing with Eugene's hands for ten minutes until he woke up. If the train car wasn't full of fellow returning servicemen, Snafu would lean over and kiss Gene goodbye. As it is, it's probably for the best that nothing happens except the train stops, Snafu stands to collect his bag, and Eugene sleeps on. Snafu departs, and he forces himself to not look back. He's in New Orleans again, and with it comes all the same old responsibilities, and a body is never supposed to look back. Common courtesy. (Had Snafu looked back he would have seen Eugene wake up and smack his hand against the train window at Snafu's retreating figure) The problem with coming home to nothing is a total lack of motivation. Snafu knows nowhere to go and doesn't care. He makes it halfway down the train platform before his knees start

shaking. He ducks into a narrow alleyway, leans against an empty trash bin, and lights a smoke. Above him he hears a crack of thunder. Rain's coming, and not the hot comfortable summer kind. He should take shelter, or worry about his bag getting wet, but he doesn't. After Gloucester a minor New Orleans squall is hardly a threat. Snafu tilts his head and looks to the sky as he smokes. The clouds break, the rain starts, and too soon his cigarette flickers out. "Fucking hell!" a very loud, very angry Sledge barrels into the alley and crosses Snafu's field of vision. Snafu is stunned silent as Eugene bears down on him. Gene wastes no time, he doesn't even slow his stride, just walks right up to Snafu, throws his own bag to the ground beside Snafu's, grabs Snafu by the wrists and slams him up against the brick wall. The cigarette falls out of Snafu's limp grasp. Eugene kisses him, completely unconcerned that the train platform is crowded and the alley can't possibly remain empty for long. The minute Eugene releases his grip on Snafu, Snafu grabs him back and continues the kiss. He gets his hands on Eugene's hips and starts fumbling to open his belt. It's pouring rain, and will continue raining for at least a half hour, the alley will remain deserted, they have time. Eugene, when he grows angry and goes from being soft to sharp angles and barbs, is hot as hell and makes Snafu want to jump his bones. Soft Eugene is complacent and too nice. Angry Eugene goes after what he wants, and Snafu desperately enjoys being exactly what Eugene wants underneath his pretty boy facade. Eugene breaks the kiss and refuses to let Snafu have his way. He grabs Snafu's wandering hands once more, but this time instead of shoving them against the wall, Eugene traps them tight between his and Snafu's chests. He glowers at Snafu, "You left me." "You were sleeping," Snafu points out, "Didn't wanna be rude." Eugene takes a deep breath and drops his forehead to their clasped hands. "You obstinate fool," he says bitterly and pins Snafu with his eyes again, looking frustrated and betrayed, "Did it occur to you that maybe I sleep better with you beside me just as much as it ever did for you?" "Sledgehammer," Snafu drawls, "You sleep better cause you're no longer in mud. Got nothing do with me." "Bullshit," Eugene accuses, "Both of those things are bullshit, Snaf...what do I do to get it in your head that I love you?" Snafu laughs and shakes his head, "Don't matter. It won't stick." Eugene shakes him, as if to unstick Snafu's stubbornness, "Then I'll keep saying it, over and over, as long as I need to. And as long as you say it to me back." "Say what?" Snafu smirks. "Say how you feel, dumbass," Eugene glares. "I feel awfully pinned to the wall like a bug right now," Snafu wiggles defiantly. He gives Gene a pointed look. Eugene immediately realizes he's taking his anger out on Snaf and drops his wrists. Eugene takes a step back, out from underneath the eaves of the building. The rain comes down so hard the boy is soaked to the bone in seconds. His bright pink lips slick and glistening and unchanged since the very first afternoon Snafu noticed him. "What do you want, Snafu?" Snafu leans languidly against the wall, his hips out and his head thrown back, his hands hanging relaxed below his shoulders. "I want you," he says and he closes his eyes because this admission will be painful, "I want to kiss you for so long the entire world sees. My own world narrows to you every damn time you're near. You scare me, Gene. I'm not supposed to want anything but I want so much from you...I can't take it. Go home, Eugene. Where you belong." "Too fucking bad," Eugene states. He steps forward again and slides an arm around Snafu's hips to pull him away from the wall. "I already am home," Eugene insists, "I'm with you. So stop making me chase you and let's decide where we're going together." "You're so fucking stubborn," Snafu complains with a dramatic sigh. "Takes one to know one," Eugene reminds him. Snafu laughs and slowly lets himself drift into

Eugene's space. They hold each other, almost as if they're in a dance. Eugene threads his fingers through Snafu's hair and looks at him intently, "Tell me what else you want. Everything." "I want us to live in a house," Snafu demands, defiant like he's daring Eugene to deny him any of it, "On the water - doesn't have to be much, just a little crick. With a birch tree in the backyard, and an attic to store your drawing shit. I want to wake up from the glare of the sun glinting off your stupid hair every morning, in a big bed, on clean white sheets. I want you to take my name." Sledge breaks into the biggest smile Snafu ever saw, "Eugene Shelton," he says, "Sheltonhammer?" Eugene laughs. "Okay," he nods enthusiastically, "Okay, I want all that." "Really?" Snafu laughs in disbelief. Rain gets in his mouth. He sputters and bites his lip. "Yeah," Eugene nods again. "Well, fuck," Snafu declares. "We'll do it," Eugene promises, "We'll do all of it. But before we figure out how, I need you to come home with me to Mobile." Snafu nods, and then adds, "Except tonight. We can afford one night in a hotel. Just the two of us." Eugene smiles, "Yeah. I can agree to that." "Good," Snafu agrees, satisfied. Eugene slings an arm over Snafu's shoulders and Snafu wraps his arm around Eugene's waist. They pick up their duffles and start ambling down the alley. "Sheltonhammer will never catch on," Snafu warns. "You're right," Eugene grins, "I better keep Sledgehammer too." "Eugene Bondurant Sledgehammer Shelton," Snafu says, "What a mouthful." "I like it," Eugene confirms and squeezes Snafu affectionately. "They'll never put that in a phonebook," "Guess we just won't have a phone, then," Eugene says. "I could live with that," Snafu agrees. They do end up with a phone because Eugene's mother will only accept her baby living two states away if she's able to call him whenever she wants. "It's like your mother's psychic," Snafu whines. Out in the hall, Eugene motions with his hands to try to get Snafu to shut up while balancing the phone between his ear and shoulder. Snafu rolls his eyes and refuses to be quiet. "She somehow divines every time you get frisky and suddenly she needs to talk your ear off for five hours," Snafu continues. "We're invited for Christmas," Eugene says after he finally hangs up, "She wants to know if you'll be bringing your homemade pie again. Also this theory of yours completely discounts the number of times we have sex uninterrupted." "Every time we have sex should be unintereupted. I'll bring the pie only if I can be allowed to help with the ham this year," Snafu barters, "Not having any of that dry overcooked shit anymore." "If we get there early enough I can sneak you into the kitchen," Eugene crawls back onto the bed and settles himself on top of Snafu, "She'll never notice any changes to the ham." "Deal," Snafu agrees and drags Eugene in for a kiss. "I love you, Mer," Eugene whispers. Snafu wins Eugene's family over with his uncanny cooking abilities. Snafu always puts it off till the last minute, and stresses Eugene out so much he blames Snafu for his hair loss, but somehow whatever Snafu makes turns out perfect. His specialty is pork chops. Meanwhile, Gene's not allowed to cook after the incident with the waffle maker. Snafu brings this rule up whenever Gene wants to try a new recipe in one of his Good Housekeeping magazines ("Nothing in that rag is true, Sledgehammer. Why d'you even bother?" Snafu pesters him) ("I received no education on this subject growing up, Snafu. I'm learning," Eugene refuses to budge and keeps his subscription). Luckily Snafu has a gift for making questionable recipes edible, and Eugene is good at following directions, both in and out of bed. This year at Christmas dinner, Eugene's mother imbibes a little too much eggnog spiked generously by Snafu. Halfway through the dessert course she leans in close to whisper secretly to her son, "Don't tell Edward but your Snafu can bake circles around Martha. Thank god one of you married well." And pats Eugene's

shoulder proudly. Eugene relays this compliment to Snafu late at night when they're snuggled together tight in Eugene's narrow childhood bed. "And yet nobody suspected about the ham," Eugene adds, "Though a few commented how much better it tasted this year." "What can I say, I'm a fan of big meat," Snafu declares as he sticks his hand down the front of Eugene's pants. "I don't think that actually works well as an innuendo," Eugene retorts. "Got you hard anyway," Snafu's eyes gleam with mischief. Eugene rolls him over and kisses him silent before someone hears them and suddenly turns their visit home awkward. Married life with Gene seems almost too good to be true. Snafu keeps waiting for the other shoe to drop. And he really starts to worry when on a random day in spring, he sees Eugene standing stark naked in their backyard during a thunderstorm. "Good thing our phone isn't listed," Snafu calls to Eugene from the dry safety of the wrap-around porch. Eugene might be losing his marbles, but he sure looks good while doing it. Snafu admires his husband's bare ass in the sharp flashes of lightning and lit by the soft glow of their storm lantern. Eugene turns to face Snafu and lifts the lantern up, "What in tarnation are you talking about?" He asks, as if Snafu is the crazy one here. "If we were in the phonebook," Snafu says, "the neighbors would sure be calling by now." "No one can see me," Eugene scoffs, "We have a fence for a reason." "Why're you naked in a thunderstorm, Gene?" Snafu asks with concern, "If you get turned on, you might act like a lightning rod, and we've already got one of those on the roof - we don't need another, Boo." "It's tradition," Eugene explains. "Tradition?" "Our anniversary. It's been four years." "Anniversary?" Snafu grins wildly, expecting a joke, "What kind of shit anniversary have two people like us got?" Gene leaps onto the porch, sets the lantern down at Snafu's feet, and picks up his bible from a chair. His damp hands deftly flip it open to a weathered page and he reads off the date: "March 9th, 1944, Finally got Snafu to shower in the rain and wash his hair but only because I fucked him first." "What?! No way that you wrote that down!" Snafu grabs at the book in Eugene's hands. Eugene laughs and gives it up. And right there, in smudged ink, are the words Gene just read. Snafu runs his hand across them, and remembers how fucked up they both were four years ago. Desperate, and confused, and scared. "So, it's tradition," Eugene states with a know-it-all grin. He walks backward off the porch and back into the rain. His chin tilted up to feel the drops on his face and his hands raised high. Snafu watches in silence for a bit, remembering what it was like during his days of pining. When he didn't dare voice any of his opinions on Eugene's form, let alone reach out and touch. "Nice ass, Sledgehammer," Snafu calls. "You can't see my butt, I'm facing you," Eugene screws up his face in confusion. "Don't need to see it, I already know it's nice," Snafu leans against the porch and crosses his arms. Eugene rolls his eyes, but there's a smile on his face. That smile Snafu especially likes - bashful, embarrassed, and utterly in love. With dark eyes so warm it makes even cold-hearted Snafu feel cozy. "What about what you can see?" Gene asks, teasing. "Gorgeous," Snafu says, more quiet and solemn, "Like a Greek statue." "I'm flattered," Eugene states. He doesn't sound flattered, he sounds sarcastic. "No, I'm serious," Snafu insists, "Exactly like a statue. Except for one… much bigger detail…" "Snaf…" Eugene huffs a laugh. "Ah!" Snafu enthusiastically points at Eugene's crotch and steps off the porch into the rain, "What'd I tell you! You got that lightning rod problem going on there. We better get you inside…" Eugene says nothing, he just sloshes through the puddle that is their garden path and slams into Snafu. His hands slip under Snafu's jaw and tilt his face for an intense kiss. Eugene's hard dick slides into the crevice of Snafu's hips and Snafu drags Eugene tighter

against his body by his waist to trap him there. Now they're both wet and naked making out in their own backyard. Unfortunately just as things start getting interesting lightning strikes the tree beside their heads. It happens in an instant - the entire sky lights up, the lightning jumps from the fried tree to the rod on their house's roof, and fizzles. "Oh fuck!" Snafu hits the deck and takes Eugene with him. Eugene is pressed face first into their muddy grass, with Snafu's broad hand firm on his back, and half of Snafu's body shielding him from harm. And Eugene just laughs. Snafu gradually realizes the danger is gone, and loosens his hold on Gene. Eugene rolls onto his back and looks up at Snafu with a broad grin. "Why are we always interrupted during sex?" Snafu grumbles. "We're not even having sex," Eugene chuckles. He takes Snafu's arm for support and together they pull themselves out of the mud. "Not yet," Snafu argues. "Not here," Eugene retorts, "Let's get back inside. We don't need to tempt fate." "Lighting doesn't strike twice, Gene, you know that," Snafu points out when they're back under the porch. He gives Eugene a once over. "You're gonna need a shower. Maybe with the hose first," he adds after eyeing the grass and dirt clumps stuck to Eugene's front. Snafu leans over the porch rail to unwind the hose and then turns the nozzle on Gene. Eugene cringes and shies away from the water stream, "That's colder than the damn rain, Snaf!" "Turn around, I need to get your ass," Snafu replies. Which is when Eugene decides he's had enough hosing and instead tries to finagle the nozzle out of Snafu's hands. He doesn't succeed. Snafu is a slippery little shit in the best of times, and when wet he's positively lethal. Eugene does get hosed in the ass, and Snafu does lose control of the hose when Eugene goes for the distraction method and kisses Snafu into submission. Snafu can never resist a good smooch. Eugene grins against Snafu's lips, knowing he's won and hefts Snafu up into his arms. He carries Snafu into their house and into the shower to celebrate their 'anniversary' properly.

[writer-k-pop]

417 Years

너는 그들이 무엇을 할 수 있는지 모른다. You don't know what they can do.

Description: After 417 years of waiting, Joshua finally sees you again only it's vastly different from how he imagined it. On one hand, he has the joys of having you with him again but on the other, his protective nature wants to do everything and anything to keep you from what you have been running from for your entire life. Warnings: Mentions of injuries, stitching, death but nothing detailed, swearing Genre: Angst, Immortal!Joshua x Immortal!FemReader Word Count: 8.5k [I think this is one of my longest?]

Seventeen Masterlist | Masterlist

(y/n) stands in front of me again, her hair a little crazy like she's just been fighting or doing some martial arts. But it's not her appearance that stops me. It's her eyes. It's always her eyes. They pierce into mine, constantly searching for anything and everything at the same time.

"Don't look for me." She says, not moving a muscle.

"Why not?" I find myself asking.

She sighs and I feel the breath against my chest as if she's laying on my chest. "Because I don't know when I'll see you again." She responds.

"How would you know if I did look?" I smirk, thinking I've caught her in a trap.

(y/n) smirks wider, "You won't because immortals can't break promises." She holds her left hand and the ring on her middle finger sparkles, "And you already promised."

I feel my shoulders sag as the realization hits me like a ton of bricks. "When you do return, will you remember me?" I can't help but ask.

She chuckles and walks towards me, hand outstretched for mine. She's going to say 'How could I forget?' It's what she says every time when I ask that question in this dream.

"Help."

Suddenly, I'm standing in a room of endless dark grey walls. (y/n)'s gone but I can still hear her call echoing from every direction.

"Help me."

I turn to the left then to the right, searching for her but the grey space remains unchanging.

"Joshua!"

I jerk awake and jerkily look around.

"What the hell?" I whisper, my senses finally recognizing the plush couch underneath me and racing game sounds coming from the TV.

"You good?" Woozi asks, glancing between me and the TV.

Sitting up, I run my hands over my face, "No? Yes? Maybe?" I rattle off, unsure of exactly how I'm feeling. My heart's still racing in worry but I know it was just a dream.

"You dreamed of her again?" Woozi guesses, returning his gaze to the TV just in time to dodge another car.

"Yeah but," I pause, trying to find the right words.

"But what?" Woozi probes.

"It, it was different." I answer, placing my forehead against the palms of my hands, massaging it slightly.

"Different how?" Woozi quickly presses a button on his controller, "It's always the same dream, it never changes."

"Josh's dream changed?" Jeonghan walks into the room having overheard the latter part of the conversation.

I nod, "The ending. She just yelled for help and then I was a weird grey space and then she yelled my name and I woke up."

"Huh." Jeonghan and Woozi say at the same time with looks of slight wonder on their faces.

"Maybe it changed because you took a nap at 8pm." Jeonghan pats my shoulder, "Anyway, DoKyeom asked if you could help with the trash down stairs."

I shake away the thoughts of my dream, "Yeah, yeah. Can you guys get the house trash?"

Woozi nods, "We'll set it outside the door for you."

I roll my eyes as I stand, "Yeah okay, one of these days we're going to set up a schedule for who takes out the tra-"

"Yeah, yeah, someday in our long long lives we'll do that." Jeonghan nags back and pushes me towards the door.

I chuckle at my longest friend and close the front door behind me. Three feet in front of me is another door that leads to a staircase on the outside of the building leading down to the road. A couple feet away, on my right is the staircase that leads down into the clock and watch shop, mainly watches now-a-days, that I've been running for hundreds of years.

After I phased, some 600 years ago, I learned that I couldn't stay in one place for too long. But with all the moving I had to find something to bring in a little income. Though every profession at that time required a lot of packing up and moving. Not like these days where you can just take a brief case and a laptop.

I soon found that clock/watch making and fixing piqued my interest enough that I started my own business. When I needed to move, it was easy enough. All I had to find was a building to set up shop in and everything else from my shop fit into three large boxes. In the early days, I would often be reminded of how ironic it was for an immortal to work in that type of shop. I mean, my job was making and fixing an object that reminded people of how little time they had left while I had an unlimited amount. Though it's a sad realization, my love for the craft hasn't changed.

With my shop, I traveled the world and even gained a few friends (now housemates) along the way.

Jeonghan was the first. He had phased three years after I did but we didn't cross paths until 20 years later. We became close because our immortal status and began living together.

Then there was Woozi. He joined Jeonghan and I around 450 years ago. Then for the next couple hundred years, it was just the three of us. Moving to a city, working the  shop for 20 years or so, and then moving onto another city or country.

128 years ago, we ran into Dokyeom and Seungkwan. Dokyeom phased 10 years prior and Seungkwan had only 5 years prior.

And since then, we've been a group. Living and figuring out our way through the world together. At some point, Jeonghan and Seungkwan decided to work in different fields and bring in some extra cash. Jeonghan got his doctor's education and license and Seungkwan makes the spunkiest of business men. The rest of us still enjoy our work at the shop.

We've been in our current city for a few years and were lucky enough to find this shop/home combo building.

Reaching the bottom steps of the back staircase, I can't help but think about the last time I had that dream. It's been a couple years since but I can't shake the weird feeling that this change means something.

I push open the creaky door and mentally remind myself to WD-40 that this weekend.

"Back here, Josh!" Dokyeom calls from the back room.

I make my way back and am greeted by Dokyeom's backside as he struggles to pull out the overly stuffed trash bag.

"A little help, please?" He grunts taking a second to glance back at me.

"Why didn't you wait for me?" I ask as I hold the trash can down.

"I thought I could do it by myself but someone had to over stuff the trash, again." He gives me a pointed look once the bag is free.

I shrug, "We're saving money on trash bags this way."

Dokyeom ties the top of the bag, "But wrecking my back." He complains.

"That's your problem. You should get a better back." I joke with a smile.

"Good one, hyung." Dokyeom pushes the bag into my legs. "Oh, by way, that Mr. Wilson guy brought in another batch of bands. He said to do them the same as the other one."

I nod, "Did he say when he wanted them done?"

Dokyeom shakes his head, "I can call now though and ask."

"If you would, and then lock up while I take these out to the street." I suggest.

"No problem!" He salutes me and disappears out front to find Mr. Wilson's contact information.

Picking up the trash bag, it's heavier that I thought and I struggle to lift it off the floor. I lug it to the front door as walking along the street would be much easier than trying to walk up 23 steps with it. I still have to climb the steps for the house trash but that's easy.

The sky has darkened and the streetlights are in full brightness, lighting up spotlights along the street. Once the heavy shop trash bag is resting just to the side of our house stairway, I take a moment to catch my breath and look up at the sky. If there's one thing I miss about the other places we've lived, it'd have to be the clear night skies where all the stars are visible. Here in the city, it's just too bright. As I fail to locate a single star, I can't help but let my mind wander towards (y/n).

The way she held my hands so tenderly. The way her eyes were always searching for answers, even when she was looking into mine. The way my name rolled so easily off her tongue. It's been 417 years since I last physically saw her and though she was right in that I could never break my promise to not look for her, it never stopped me from hoping she would cross his path again. Like now.  

Knowing it's all just wishful thinking, I take in a deep breath and climb the outer stairs, punch in the pass code to our front door, and pickup the trash bags that Jeonghan and Woozi collected from the house. With an empty mind, I place them next to the shop's trash bag. With one last look at the sky, I turn to go back inside.

Just as I step onto the first step, I hear a sound, like the one a sheet of metal makes when it's bent quickly, from my right.

I look up just as someone falls out of a flash of grey light and rams backwards into the side of the next door building. The shock plants my feet into the concrete and all I can do is blink at the unmoving figure sitting slumped against the wall.

'Did they just- No. Did they?' My thoughts try to make sense of the situation because I know there are time-jumpers but they almost always appear in more discreet areas and are almost always standing when they land.

Then the figure groans and attempts to move but only manages to tilt their head to the left. That instantly sets my body in motion.

Walking closer, I realize that it's a woman who's been badly injured. Her arms have gashes and one of her hands is pressed to her stomach while the other clutches a bloody dagger. Scanning her legs, it's a miracle that they are injury free, at least from what I can see. An old leather backpack sits a few inches from her body. I hold back a gasp and cautiously kneel down next to her.

"Hey, are you ok-" My voice disappears when my eyes catch a glimpse of the 1-inch scar sitting where her hairline meets the back of her neck on the right side. My mind automatically replays the feeling of it under my fingers as they run across the surface. i know exactly how every ridge feels. I know exactly how she got the scar because well, I was partly to blame for it.

"(y/n)." I whisper her name before I can stop myself. It's her. She's here. In front of me.

'And bleeding, you dumb ass.' My mind reminds me quite urgently.

I shake her shoulder once more and she groans but doesn't open her eyes.

"Hey, hey, (y/n). Open your eyes for me." I gently coax her and shake her again.

Her head slowly turns towards me and her eyes open ever so slightly. A small smile of relief makes it way onto her face and she swallows hard.

"So this is where I ended up. Joshua..." (y/n) trails off and her eyes close once again. The knife slips from her hand and clatters onto the concrete.

I try shaking her awake again but it's no use, she's passed out. Now the panic is starting to set in.

I have to get her inside. But how? I can go get one of the guys, but then I have to leave her. I don't want to leave her.

"Josh, everything okay?" Dokyeom calls from the front door and relief lifts a small weight off my shoulders.

"Keep the door open." I instruct and quickly scoop (y/n) into my arms.

"What's going on?" Seungkwan appears behind Dokyeom just as I start to climb the steps.

"Hyung, what are yo-"

"Seungkwan, go get the medical tarp and lay it out on my bed. And tell Jeonghan to get his first aid kit. The bigger one." I cut Dokyeom off, making sure not to jostle (y/n)'s body too much.

Dokyeom holds open the door for me while I slide into the landing before heading to the inner door that leads into the house.

"He wants you to do what?" I hear Woozi question when the door opens. "Why- Oh. Oh god." Woozi stares as I make my way in.

I rush towards my room with Woozi, Jeonghan, and Dokyeom close behind.

"What happened?" Jeonghan asks, immediately starting to assess (y/n)'s wounds as soon as I set her on my bed.

"That was quick." Seungkwan says slightly surprised.

"I had it ready." Jeonghan replies, still waiting for my reply to his original question.

I realize how hard I'm breathing and try to slow it down but fail. "I, I don't know. I was taking out the trash and then she popped out of nowhere. Like that." I explain, trying desperate to find a way to help her but with my medical license nonexistent, I'm just a sitting duck.

Jeonghan's hands are pressing some gauze onto her stomach where the deepest gash seems to be. But my attention is on her face, silently begging for her eyes to open.

"Did she have anything else with her?" Jeonghan questions while looking over her arms.

I try to focus my racing thoughts on the question and barely formulate a sentence. "Uh, uh, she was gripping a knife and she had a backpack."

"Where are they now?" Jeonghan asks, keeping his voice calm.

"I, I left them in the street." I answer, realizing how not good that is.

Jeonghan nods, "Okay. Dokyeom, Seungkwan, Woozi, go fetch her stuff and clean or cover any of the blood if there is any." The three nod and quickly leave the room.

"What can I do?" I finally ask, kneeling down next to Jeonghan.

He glances over at me but I can't take my eyes of (y/n)'s face, not wanting to miss a moment of her presence.

"I can do this by myself. You don't have to watch if it's-"

"I'm staying." I tell him in determination, "So tell me what to do."

Jeonghan looks into my eyes for a couple more seconds before taking a breath. "Okay. We're going to have to stitch up the cut on her stomach. I looked earlier and nothing vital seems to have been touched. It's just really deep. Get yourself a pair of gloves from the kit and bring out the sutures and needle pack."

Because Jeonghan spent one of our recent moves learning to be a doctor, and then becoming one, we (more him than I) finish within 25 minutes. Once we've dressed that wound, we move onto the rest of her injuries.

"Go grab her a shirt of yours." Jeonghan instructs while pulling out scissors from his kit.

Suddenly hating the idea of having Jeonghan see her like that, I stop him. "You are not-"

"Josh, I sent the others out because I didn't think (y/n) would want everyone in this household to see her bare." Jeonghan defends his actions, "And because I'm the only one in this household who's an actual doctor, I think she'll be okay with me."

I slowly release his hand as his plan paints the perfect picture.

"Go get a t-shirt of yours." Jeonghan repeats and gets to work cutting off (y/n)'s torn and bloody shirt.

As I turn towards my dresser, a small seed of gratitude for Jeonghan and his forward thinking plants itself in my mind. I pick the softest shirt I own and when I turn back around, (y/n)'s shirt is in a shredded pile on the floor and Jeonghan is wiping away the blood from her skin.

I find myself trailing over her body, taking note of the new scars and I wonder how she got those. 400 years is a long time and filled with so many untold stories.

Laying the shirt on the nightstand, I pick up a clean towel and begin cleaning the arm opposite of Jeonghan, which happens to be her left arm. Careful to avoid her open wounds, we clean her in silence. A sparkle from her hand brings my attention to the ring I had missed.

The ring I gave her.

Instinctively, my hand grips hers and I look at her face. Her closed eyes and relaxed muscles make her look so peaceful but I worry about the pain and fear she must've felt before I found her.

All these years and she still wears the ring that I gave her. My heart swells with love for this woman and it makes tears line my eyes.

Jeonghan lays a hand on my shoulder from behind, silently asking me to move so he can dress her wounds. I nod and move a few steps away but I don't let go of her hand. I can't bring myself to do it.

He works in silence, bandaging each cut and then wrapping a protective layer of gauze around it.

"Let's get her off this tarp and under the covers." Jeonghan says once he finishes.

I nod, reluctant to let go of her hand but I kind of need it. I scoop (y/n) again in my arms, extremely careful not to bust open any stitches, while Jeonghan slides the tarp out from under her and pulls back the covers of my bed.

"Before you lay her down completely, let's get the shirt over her." Jeonghan comments as I move to set her down.

"Good idea." I reply and set her legs on the bed but keep a hold of her upper body. Her head lulls into my chest and I feel my heart skip three too many beats. After some odd finagling, we slip the shirt down her body and I lay her back into the pillows. Absentmindedly, I fix her hair so it lays somewhat neatly and out of her face. Jeonghan picks up the bin of red tinted water and walks out of the room without a word. I sit on the edge of my bed, clasping (y/n)'s left hand between both of mine and I just sit there, watching her, praying that she'll wake up soon. I sit there as Woozi and Jeonghan return to clean up the rest of the mess. I sit there as Dokyeom and Seungkwan stand in the doorway whispering to each other presumably about me. I sit there as the moon disappears and the sun brightens the sky. And through it all, neither (y/n) or I move a muscle.

"Hyung." Seungkwan says quietly from behind me.

I turn my head towards him slightly, wordlessly telling him that he has my attention.

"Jeonghan hyung made breakfast and told Woozi hyung and I to make sure that you eat something." He explains, "Please eat something with us. We can leave the door open so we'll hear her if she wakes up." He tries to reason with me, already guessing that I'd be reluctant to leave. "Please." Seungkwan pleads.

I glance back at (y/n)'s sleeping face and decide I should probably eat something before I, myself, pass out.

"Okay." I tell him and gently release her hand from mine. "Let me change and we'll go eat breakfast." And with joints as stiff as a plaster mask, I creak and pop everything in my body as I stand up to full height.

After I change out of my stained clothes, Seungkwan leads the way out of my bedroom and leaves the door wide open. Entering the dining room, just kitty corner to my room, Woozi is already seated and eating away.

"How is she?" He asks once Seungkwan and I take our respective seats.

"She's been the same all night." I answer grabbing some food for myself. "Did Dokyeom open the shop?" I wonder, glancing over at the time.

Seungkwan nodded, "And Jeonghan left like 30 minutes ago."

I nod shoving a forkful of whatever Jeonghan made into my mouth.

"I'm guessing I'll take your shift at the shop today then?" Woozi asks, resting his elbow on the table.

"If you could." I reply. "I don't know when I'll be able to get back. I trust you with all the customizations."

"Oh!" Seungkwan suddenly remembers something, "Dokyeom asked me to tell you that a Mr. Wilson needs his order done by next week."

"You trust me with that order?" Woozi inquires with a side glance at me.

I shrug, "It's the same as the last batch and you did fine on the ones that you did then, so in short, yes, yes I trust you with it."

As we fall into silence, an elephant begins to manifest itself in the room and it's further emphasized by Seungkwan throwing glances between Woozi and I.

"Spit it out Seungkwan." I set down my fork on the table and turn to face him. "Go ahead."

Seungkwan shrinks slightly having been caught. "I, it's just her."

"What about her?" I question.

"Is it really her?" He asks leaning towards me like he doesn't want anyone to hear.

"I think so." I answer him, picking up my fork again.

"How do you know?" Seungkwan continues to probe, "Like how do you know know?"

I give a side look and swallow, "I just know."

"But it's been like what 400 years? That's a long time." Seungkwan rambles, "What if she's just a reincarnation?"

Woozi makes a noise warning for Seungkwan to stop talking but it really doesn't bother me. It never has. Seungkwan and Dokyeom are a couple centuries behind so they weren't around when (y/n) was. They've only heard stories from us so they're curious. I understand that.

"She's not a reincarnation." I move some of the food around my plate, "She's got the scar and the ring I gave her. And her face hasn't changed one bit."

"Well, duh, we're immortal, we don't change no matter how old we are." Seungkwan sasses "Speaking of which, damn, you guys are old."

"So are you." I retort immediately.

"Not as old as you, Grandpa." Seungkwan jokes with a smile.

I roll my eyes, "Alright, youngen, does that mean you can do all the physically taxing chores because you're younger and your body is in better shape?" I threaten.

Panic crosses Seungkwan's features and he pushes out of his chair, "Oh, would you look at the time. I gotta run." He throws out excuses quickly making Woozi and I laugh. But the few seconds of joy don't last long.

"Hey, hyung..." Seungkwan calls for me, "Did... didn't we leave your door open?" He asks and our smiles immediately drop from our faces.

The chair legs scrape against the floor as I stand up, a wave of worries floods my mind.

"We left it open." I mumble and make my way to my now closed bedroom door. Turning the handle, it resists against me. Locked.

"Seungkwan, go get me my keys." I tell him quietly while listening for any noise behind my door but there's only silence. The fear of what I might find on the other side grows as Seungkwan returns with my keys. I quickly flip through them, searching for the right one. Finding it, I stick it in the handle, turn, and hear the lock retracting.

When I fling the door open, my bed is empty. I scan the room and find (y/n) standing next to my open window, staring back at me in fear.

"When did you wake up?" I ask in the softest voice I could manage while my insides are raging with emotions.

"J-just a few minutes ago." (y/n) stutters, her hand pressed against her stomach. "What year is it?"

"You don't know?" Seungkwan pipes up behind me, his curiosity very evident.

She shakes her head, "i was in 2018 but I can't tell where I am."

"Look, before I tell you anything, you probably shouldn't be standing." I step towards her, a hand offered for her stability. "You had a lot of cuts and we had to stitch up the one on your stomach."

"Joshua?" (y/n) whispers softly as I get closer, "So, so it wasn't a dream?"

I shake my head, only letting a small smile form, "It's me. You found me." Once I grab her free hand, she leans into me, her strength giving out. I gently wrap an arm around her waist and lead her over to the bed.

"Seungkwan, water." I simply state and I hear his footsteps retreat away.

"But I can't stay." She says abruptly as I lay her back on my bed.

"You have to. You're not well enough to go anywhere." I remind her .

"But I can't." She insists, though her body sinks happily into the mattress.

"Your body is saying otherwise, dear." I stroke her hair as Seungkwan walks in with a glass of water and a straw. I take it from him and help (y/n) take a few sips.

"I took the day off so if you need anything, I'll be outside." Seungkwan whispers to me before leaving us alone.

"He's new." (y/n) says once the door clicks shut.

"Just rest for now, I'll explain things when you're rested." I give her hand a small squeeze.

"Just answer this for me: what year is it?" She asks again, her eyes landing on mine, searching for an answer.

I sigh, immediately giving into her gaze, "2020."

"2 years." She does the simple math in her head, "Only two years. It's not enough time." (y/n) groans and attempts to sit up but I push her back down.

"You are not going anywhere." I demand, "You will have enough time after you rest. You need to rest."

(y/n) scrunches up her eyebrows, ready to fight me verbally but I add something I know she won't be able to resist.

"Plus, if you stay you can meet the two new kids we picked up and see Jeonghan. Otherwise I won't hear the end of it." I tell her and her eyes widen slightly.

"Two?" She repeats the number.

"This is a household of five now." I inform her, "But you won't be able to meet them until after you're rested."

I watch (y/n) fight with herself about whether or not she should leave but her curiosity about my life gets the better of her. Her shoulders relax under my hands and I pull away knowing she's surrendered.

A breeze from the still open window rushes past us, making (y/n) shiver. I quickly pull the covers over her before walking to the window.

"And what were you planning to do?" I ask as I close the window, "Jump? In your condition?"

(y/n) gives the smallest of shrugs, "I've done worse."

I have to bite my tongue to keep from asking the question that almost tumbled out of my mouth. Her eyes start to close as sleep starts to pull her under again.

"Just don't leave yet." I quietly beg her before placing a soft kiss to her forehead. When I pull back, she's fast asleep.

I spend a few more minutes kneeling by the bed, holding her hand, and just watching her sleep. Placing another kiss to the back of her hand, I leave the room but keep the door open. The others are just going to have to be quiet for the day.

For the rest of day, I try to relax while (y/n) sleeps but I don't do much besides sit on the couch with my ears on high alert for any sounds coming from my bedroom. Of course, there are no sounds. As the sun sets, Jeonghan walks into the house, briefcase in hand.

He nods in greeting and Seungkwan and I do the same.

"How is she?" Jeonghan inquires walking towards us.

"She woke up once but fell back asleep soon after." I inform him.

"I think she tried to escape through the window." Seungkwan quips and I throw him a look, having wanted to leave that bit of information out.

"She did... really?" Jeonghan is taken aback by the new information.

I take a deep breath, "I mean she was scared, had no idea where she was, wouldn't your first idea be to get out?"

"Touché." Jeonghan tilts his head to the side. "Where's Dokyeom and Woozi?" He looks around the empty area.

"Dokyeom's in his room and Woozi should be locking up the shop." I answer.

Jeonghan nods, "How are her dressings?"

"Last I checked they looked okay but I'm not the doctor." I answer honestly.

"Let me get changed and we can check together." Jeonghan chuckles.

"You're the doc." I throw my hands up in surrender to his directions.

"Is she going to stay awhile?" Seungkwan asks, "I have so many questions for her."

"I don't know how long she's staying. I just hope it's for a while." I tell him my own wishes.

When Jeonghan returns in a nice groutfit, we make our way to my room.

"You're awake!" Seungkwan says happily upon seeing (y/n) attempting to sit up in the bed. He rushes over and helps rearrange the pillows behind her.

"I just woke up." She smiles warmly at him.

"How do you feel?" I ask, coming to stand next to Seungkwan.

"I've been better but I definitely feel better than before." She answers, then turns towards Jeonghan. "I was told that I couldn't leave before saying hello to you."

Jeonghan smirks and rustles her hair, "No, the reason you couldn't leave yet is because I have to clear you."

(y/n)'s face contorts into confusion, "Clear me?"

"Doctor Jeonghan at your service." Jeonghan announces and dramatically bows to her.

"You. A doctor?" (y/n) just blinks at him in disbelief. Then chuckles before the pain stops her short. "Ow, fuck. Since when?"

Jeonghan takes immediate action and opens his medical kit before answering, "Like a couple decades ago, I think."

She nods as Jeonghan begins unwrapping some of her dressings, "Nice, nice. Well, very belated congrats."

Jeonghan snorts out a laugh, "Thank you very much." Then he continues his work.

"And you are?" (y/n) turns her attention to Seungkwan.

"Seungkwan." He answers brightly and holds out a hand which she gladly takes.

"And when did you join this circus household?" She asks a playful smile on her lips.

"Dokyeom and I joined some 120 years ago." Seungkwan says.

"We are not a circus." I defend, "If anything, it became a circus when these two showed up." I nudge Seungkwan.

"Hey Woozi, do you know if Jeonghan hyung is home yet? I have to ask him about the- Oh." Dokyeom pauses in the doorway before a big smile erupts on his face. "Hi, I'm Dokyeom. And you're (y/n). And we've heard so much about you." He rambles on making his way over in between Seungkwan and I.

I mentally facepalm with embarrassment but one look at (y/n)'s face makes it all dissipate. I can tell from her smile and the way her eyes look at the two that she already loves them. Relief over that fact washes over me, making me relax ever so slightly.

"Shoo." Joenghan simply states walking up behind the two youngest.

"Oh." Both of them say and quickly shuffle to the other side of the bed where Jeonghan was just a moment ago.

As the three of them chat, I watch Jeonghan carefully remove some gauze and pull back a bandage. The cut is clean and not as angry of a red which is good. Jeonghan also likes the way it's looking and covers it with a new bandage and gauze.

"I'm just gonna lift up your shirt to check your stomach." Jeonghan informs her but as he reaches for the covers, (y/n) pushes them off and lifts the shirt on her own accord.

"Whatever you gotta do, doc." She tells him with a sweet smile.

"Don't call me that." Jeonghan cringes at the nickname she's given him.

(y/n) cocks her head to the side, "I think it suits you very well, doc."

I stifle a laugh and Jeonghan throws me glare. My hands rise up in surrender. She's giggling when Jeonghan returns his attention to her and begins unwrapping the gauze.

She's seems to be in a better mood but I do know that she's used that mechanism before to hide something. I want to know what it is that she's hiding but I also want to soak in her happy presence for a little while longer.

"Alright, you're looking good." Jeonghan informs basically all of us, "Just don't do anything stupid like jump out of a window for a while until the stitches heal."

"How long is that?" (y/n) asks, suddenly more serious.

"At least two weeks." Jeonghan tells her, a little weary about her sudden seriousness.

(y/n) purses her lips in dissatisfaction.

"Why?" I ask raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

She meets my gaze and her eyes give away the lie she says. "I just thought my body could heal faster."

'That's too long.' Is what her eyes say.

"We're immortal not super human." Dokyeom comments.

"Dude, that makes no sense." Seungkwan slaps his shoulder.

"It makes sense!" Dokyeom defends himself.

"Are you hungry?" I ask, changing subjects.

She nods, "A little yeah."

"I'll go whip something up." Jeonghan says, gathering his supplies, "It's going to be soft foods and no complaining." He shoots (y/n) a look, knowing full well her history with food.

(y/n) pouts but doesn't say anything.

"So, where have you been hiding?" Dokyeom asks as Jeonghan leaves the room.

"Here and there." (y/n) shrugs, "I'm not that interesting though. I'm more interested in you two. What do you guys do?" She questions them, sitting up a bit straighter.

Satisfied that Dokyeom and Seungkwan will keep her company, I leave the room and join Jeonghan in the kitchen.

"She's hiding something, isn't she?" He asks when I enter.

I nod, "I think so."

"And she won't say it." He infers.

"I haven't asked yet." I reply.

"I can't believe after 400 years, she shows up like this." Jeonghan looks up at the ceiling for a moment, "400 years."

"Four hundred and seventeen to be exact." Woozi corrects him joining us. "Are the kids keeping her company?"

"Yupp, talking her ear off." I tell him, then smile, "Though I don't think she minds at all."

"She's (y/n), of course she doesn't mind. She lives for active talkers like them." Jeonghan states, "She loves the stories."

"But won't tell hers." I sadly add.

"She will but only to the right person." Jeonghan reminds me, opening a cabinet for a small bowl. He pours some apple sauce into it and sets it on the tray with a plate of scrambled eggs. "Dinner is served." He hands me the tray.

I take the tray with a nod. "Off I go."

"Good luck, skipper." Woozi jokes as I walk by him and towards my room. The sounds of a lively conversation float out of the doorway and put a smile on my face.

Walking in, Dokyeom and Seungkwan pay little attention to me and are focused on (y/n) who's digging around in her bag for something.

"Where's my knife?" (y/n) wonders, her hand is still moving around in her bag.

"Not in there." I inform her, "Woozi put it away for now."

"Oooh, what is that?" She asks, noticing the tray in my hands and lifting her arms up for it.

"Scrambled eggs and apple sauce." I tell her and guide the tray onto her lap. Without another word, she picks up the fork and begins shoveling eggs into her mouth.

"Don't eat too fast." Dokyeom worries, "You might get a tummy ache."

(y/n) gives him a smile, "No worries, I've been a lot worse and eaten a lot more. I've got a stomach of steel. Just ask-" She stops and her eyes fill with immense sadness.

"Did you get to explain your little trick to them?" I quickly change the subject.

"Trick?" Seungkwan repeats, "What trick? I like tricks."

"Yeah, what trick?" Dokyeom pesters.

(y/n) swallows, any trace of sadness gone in a split second. "I hadn't had the chance before you came in with dinner."

"So what's the trick?" Dokyeom asks again.

"Well, have you heard of immortals with extra stuff?" She wonders and I chuckle at her use of 'extra stuff.'

Dokyeom and Seungkwan shake their heads.

"It's on the rarer side, but I happen to be an immortal with extra stuff. Though I do believe I am the last one now." (y/n) explains, "I'm what they used to call a time-jumper. What that means is that I can sort of jump through time."

Dokyeom gasps and covers his mouth.

"You can time travel?" Seungkwan clarifies.

"Yes and no." (y/n) answers before scooping some apple sauce into her mouth. "I can time travel, yes, but I can only go forward, never backwards. Hence 'time-jumper' and not 'time-traveler.'"

"And hyung knows." Dokyeom points to me.

"I know." I tell him.

"So that's why you asked what year it was." Seungkwan reasons, thinking back to earlier in the day.

"Exactly." She gives him a thumbs up, "When I jump, it could be as soon as 6 months later or I've jumped as long as 10 years later. It can get very disorienting at times."

"I bet." Dokyeom nods along, "Do you end up in the same place or?"

(y/n) shakes her head, "Depends, but usually I end up somewhere different."

"That's so cool." Seungkwan remarks, "I wish I could do that."

"Maybe one day, if we still exist." She smiles but there's a tone of sadness to it. Then she abruptly turns to me, "Where's my knife?"

"I told you-"

"I know what you said." (y/n) cuts me off with a bit of urgency, "But I kind of need it now."

"Why?" I question.

"I just need it." She repeats herself, "For my sanity."

I sigh, giving into her demands, "Seungkwan, can you go get it? And Dokyeom, can you take her dishes to the kitchen?"

"Why can't you do it?" Dokyeom whines and I almost, almost, yell at him but hold back.

"Because I need to talk to (y/n) alone." I say through clenched teeth. In the century that we've lived together, I have not once been annoyed by his antics but today, I am just not having it.

"Okay, okay." Dokyeom lifts (y/n)'s dinner tray off her lap and follows Seungkwan out of the room.

"What do you wanna talk about?" (y/n) asks, clasping her hands together in her lap.

"A lot of things." I tell her, readjusting my position on the bed. "But mainly why you jumped in the state that you were in."

"Here's your knife." Seungkwan announces, laying down her towel wrapped knife in her lap, "Woozi hyung cleaned it so I hope that's okay."

"It needed a cleaning anyway. Thank you." (y/n) lays a hand over the towel before Seungkwan takes his leave. Without my instruction, Seungkwan closes the door, leaving us alone.

(y/n)'s fingers play with the edge of the towel and then she sighs. "It's the same reason as before."

I scrunch my eyebrows together, trying to remember exactly which reason.

Taking in my confusion, (y/n) finishes the explanation for me. "The Evans Family. They've continued to track us through the centuries, killing anyone they can get their hands on."

When I hear the family name, so many alarms go off in my head, I momentarily forget how to think.

"They're still going on about their little vendetta against time-jumpers?" I ask.

"They are. Their numbers have dwindled down but they still exist." (y/n) nods.

"Fuck." I curse, running a hand through my hair. "We can help you." I suddenly offer.

(y/n)'s eyes widen before narrowing, "No." She states with a cold front.

"Well, I can't let you leave like you did last time and sit around waiting for you to come back again." I try to reason. "We can help. We can stand by your side and knock this family out for good."

"I said no, Joshua." She repeats and busies herself with putting her knife away.

"But why not?" I throw my hands in the air and stand up from the bed.

"Because you of all people can't." She states without giving me a glance.

"Because I can't jump? Because I'm just a normal immortal who has no special ability to do anything?" I say, a little offended.

"That's not what I meant." (y/n) finally turns to look at me, though at this point, I don't really want to look at her but I do anyway because well, it's (y/n).

"Then what?" I place my hands on my hips.

When she doesn't answer, all my logic and sanity jumps out the window.

"You know what?" I start, "I'm going to go find these assholes now. Who do they even think they are, deciding that they hold the power to kill other immortals? Where the hell are they?" I start towards the door.

I make it one step past the bed when (y/n) turns me and slams me back into the wall, her left hand pressed into my waist and her right forearm pressed just below my neck.

"Why are you out-"

"No." She huffs out, her eyes staring daggers into mine.

I grab her left wrist and stare back. The weight of what she's been hiding finally hitting me fully.

"Tell me why." I practically beg her.

She lowers her head to rest against her right forearm, "Because they're all gone." She mumbles, voice trembling.

"Who?" I ask, trying to pull her back to look at her face.

"The others." She chokes out, her strength decreasing, "Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Hoshi, and Jun. They're, they're all gone."

My mind goes on high alert at the mention of those names. I haven't heard those names in nearly four centuries. They were part of (y/n)'s group when she met me. They were also time-jumpers. Now, they're dead.

'Does Jeonghan know?' I think to myself, suddenly worrying about him.

"The Evans family got to them." (y/n) slumps into me. Through my shirt, I can feel her face scrunch in pain from her most recent injuries.

"Shit." I whisper and lead her towards the bed, slowly.

"I saw them. I thought we would have enough time to get through the jump together." (y/n) continues talking through her sobs, each one breaking my heart. "But when I jumped, they attacked again and they, they, then the jump closed."

I wrap both arms protectively around her to pull her closer but she pushes back and looks at me with desperate eyes.

"So you, you can't help me. Otherwise you and Jeonghan and Woozi and-and, you'll all end up just like them. And I can't lose you. Not you, Joshua, not you." Fresh tears fall onto her cheeks and I hug her as tightly as I can without hurting her.

I rest my chin on the top of her head as a sigh leaves my mouth and I soak in the information. I was never that close to Seungcheol, Wonwoo, Hoshi, and Jun. They weren't really around while (y/n) was with me. But I know how much they meant to her. They were her family from the beginning. They all phased within a decade and have been tight ever since. To her, she just lost her brothers. I can't even imagine what life would be like if I lost Dokyeom, Jeonghan, Seungkwan, or Woozi.

I can understand (y/n)'s determination to keep us out of it but if we don't do something, I lose her. And this time for good. That's something I can't let happen.

"I don't want to lose you." I whisper into the quiet room. "If I don't help you, I don't know when I'll see you next. And I'm afraid that I will never see you again. I can't lose you again."

(y/n)'s cries settle slightly but she doesn't move.

"I know Jeonghan was really fond of Seungcheol. And when he finds out, cause I don't think he knows, this fight becomes personal." I continue. "It was already personal for me but now it's personal for two of us and you know we won't be able to just sit back. Especially not after we saw what they did to you." My fingers trace over some of her gauzed areas and she shivers under my touch but stays silent.

"You know, every full month, during the full moon, no matter where in the world I was, I would go to the roof or a secluded quiet area if a roof was unavailable and I would just talk to you." I tell her, staring straight ahead, "I believed that the moon would somehow give you my messages wherever and whenever you were. God, I missed you so much and I just can't, I can't imagine a life where you no longer were. I don't think I could handle that."

"I know." (y/n) mumbles, "I heard you a few times."

I look down at her but she keeps her gaze straight ahead.

"After we left, Jeonghan and Seungcheol kept in contact. I don't know how they communicated. All I know is that every time we would jump somewhere, Seungcheol always had the location of your new home if you had moved." She explains, "So sometimes, when we felt we were a safe distance ahead of the Evans family, we would travel to see you. Well, so I could at least check up on you."

My mouth is hanging agape and my words have dissipated, leaving me speechless.

"I never got too close because I was scared that I would want to stay and that you would get hurt." She continues, her voice getting a little stronger. "But the last time I was able to do that was over a hundred years ago. The Evans family has always been just behind us and I couldn't risk it. I just couldn't."

"Yet this time, you jumped right to me when they were basically on top of you." I say with new reasons why we should help, "All the more reason we need to help you. The universe is practically telling us too."

(y/n) shakes her head and pushes back to sit up on her own. "You don't know what they can do."

"I know what they did to you and that's reason enough for me." I quickly counter, my decision firm. If I am the only willing to, then fine, but I am going to help her.

"And me." Jeonghan's voice makes both us whip our heads towards the door. He leans against the doorframe with his arms crossed over his chest. I give him a nod of gratitude.

"No, no, I can't. Please." (y/n) pleads, her hand resting on my thigh for support.

"Yes you can, and yes you will." Jeonghan defends his decision. "Besides, they nearly killed my best friend. And no one gets away with that."

"I'm sorry I coul- wait, what did you say?" (y/n) catches the difference at the same time I do, "Nearly killed? Jeonghan, there's no way. I saw it with my own eyes." She drags out the sentence in confusion.

I want to say something comforting to my longest friend but nothing is coming to mind.

"Those bastards thought they had me." A male steps out from behind the doorframe and into my bedroom. Standing in front of us is Seungcheol, his face shows years of turmoil but he is alive and breathing.

(y/n) starts to stand up but stumbles so I quickly help her up. We make our way over to Seungcheol in a stunned silence. After a closer look, scars mark his arms, telling the painful journey he's been on.

(y/n) cautiously reaches out for him and he gently wraps her up and I take my leave to stand by Jeonghan.

"So you knew." I say still looking at the two.

"Yupp." Jeonghan simply states.

"And you weren't ever going to tell me?" I question.

"Well, not until we were certain she would safe." Jeonghan answers honestly with shrug. "But things changed."

"What happened?" I ask, fully facing him now.

"Two years ago? Around then, I got an email from Seungcheol saying they were going dark for a while." Jeonghan explains as (y/n) and Seungcheol move to the bed to continue their conversation. "Then maybe 8 months later, I got another email saying that they were attacked and that (y/n) jumped but he wasn't sure where or when. Though he had an inkling it might near us cause she dreamt of you for like 2 weeks straight. So he asked me to keep an eye out until he could get back on his feet. I also got the news about the other three that day. It was that night that I went out drinking and didn't come back for like two days."

"Oh shit." I remember the couple days of frantic searching before finding him in an abandoned warehouse, surrounded by tons and tons of alcohol bottles.

"Yeah. After that, Seungcheol and I decided we needed to meet up and figure out what to do next." Jeonghan continues, "He's actually been around for the past year. You just had no idea."

I search my brain for any anomalies that could've been Seungcheol sneaking around but come up empty. "How?"

"Mr. Wilson." Jeonghan smiles, "The customer who seemingly always showed up during Dokyeom's shifts but never yours or Woozi's."

My mouth drops open, now seeing the final picture.

"Joshua." (y/n) quietly calls me over. During the time I was talking with Jeonghan, she moved to lay on the bed and Seungcheol is placing the covers over her.

"Hey." I smile when I reach her, kneeling near her head. "You're going to be okay now."

She nods, "I know." Then swallows nervously.

"We need them, (y/n)." Seungcheol gently reminds her, "We can't do this on our own anymore."

(y/n) takes in a shaky breath before asking, "Will you help us?"

I grab her hand and bring it up to my lips, "Of course. I will take any chance to keep you safe, forever." A tear slips from her eye and I reach to wipe it away. "I'm done waiting, (y/n). This time I'm going to do everything to keep you here, with me."

Seungcheol moves from the bed and mutters something to Jeonghan before they both leave the room, shutting the door behind them again. I lean up and kiss (y/n)'s forehead before climbing into bed next to her.

My heart swells as I finally am able to lay next to (y/n) and spend another night with her. After 417 years of waiting, here we are. Not in the best condition but she's here in my arms and it's all I could ever ask for.

"I love you." I tell her softly as if any louder and the dream would shatter to pieces.

"I know." (y/n) turns her head and smiles at me, "And I love you, too."

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game - CH126

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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Chapter 126: The Dream of the Holy Nun (XVI)

{cw: cannibalism}

Ning Zhou's talking eagle circled far ahead and then returned to its master.

"There’s movement ahead," Ning Zhou relayed after being told by the eagle.

In the darkness, only some buildings could be seen vaguely ahead. The rich black blinded their vision, and they couldn't help but feel fear because of the darkness and the unknown.

Ning Zhou looked forward, and on the other side of the street several figures were staggering. Although his night vision was good, he still couldn't see clearly. The eagle on his shoulder flapped its wings again and flew there in the dark.

"It's demons," Ning Zhou said coldly.

Sure enough, as in Nightmare Game, demons began to appear in the Holy City after the night of the new moon began. At that time, Qi Leren had been attacked by these demons and died, but this time he wouldn't repeat the same mistakes.

"Don't worry, they won't find us," Su He said, and walked on.

This group of solitary demons walked in the dark streets, wobbling, and seemed to have no mind or thoughts. Qi Leren observed them closely. Although the darkness made him unable to see their appearance clearly, he could see that they were walking slowly like zombies.

As a group of people walked into the market area of the Holy City, the number of these demons increased. They had no organization or discipline, but they followed strange instructions and wandered here... Waiting…

"Are the Holy City’s residents ok? Will these demons attack humans?" Dr. Lu asked nervously.

"There are no humans," Su He’s voice sounded in the dark. "Now, there are only demons left in this Holy City."

A chill climbed from his foot to the back of his neck, and Qi Leren couldn't help but feel disturbed. Although he knew that the Holy City would be full of demons after zero, he didn't expect that these demons… were the residents living here?

"Why is this? Do the residents here know that they’ll become demons? And then, if you don't sleep..." Qi Leren remembered the previous residents who disappeared on the night of the new moon, and a more terrible guess welled up in his mind.

"Once you fall asleep on the night of the new moon, you will be transformed into a demon after zero. If you stay awake, then..." Su He paused and said slowly, "...You’ll become the demons’ prey."

As if to confirm Su He's conjecture, there came the sound of a door in the street ahead. The door of the roadside house opened and a young man screamed as he rushed out: "No, demons! Don't come near me!"

Behind him, two strange demons staggered after him.

As he escaped from the house, the demons wandering aimlessly in the street were awakened. This group of irrational monsters roared excitedly and chased him in the direction of the four people. The young man ran away crying. In the dark, he tripped, got up, and continued to run, but the greedy predators behind him were getting closer and closer, about to catch him in the next second…

Qi Leren felt the hand on his wrist loosen, and when he turned to look, Ning Zhou had already rushed out.

"Don't kill them! They’re living people!" Qi Leren shouted.

Ning Zhou didn’t kill them. He hurriedly took the young person who’d fled, kicked away the demons who had pounced on him, carried the adult man in one hand, and grabbed the roof of the nearby house with one hand to pull them both up. More demons were alerted and they rushed towards him crazily…

There was a short melody in the dark, but it wasn’t beautiful. Instead it made one anxious, but in this strange melody, the originally crazy demons calmed down. They stood there blankly, and after standing still for a while, they continued to wander in twos and threes, turning a blind eye to the two living people.

The sound of this melody was too strange. Could it be the little blonde girl? Qi Leren stared in the direction of the sound, where it was immersed in pure darkness, and vaguely saw several figures coming towards them.

Three people in cloaks came to Ning Zhou, one of whom was still playing a flute. The front man looked up at the two people on the roof and said in a hoarse and erratic voice, "Foreigner, please give him to us."

The frightened young man knelt on the roof, shivering, and shouted with a broken voice: "No, no, no, don't hand me over... I want to go home, I want to sleep..."

"We will send you home, you will sleep safely until dawn, and then you will forget this matter. Come on, we’ll send you home," the cloaked man said.

"Who are you?" Ning Zhou asked. He was wary about these three people wearing cloaks because he felt that these people also had strong demon energy.

Qi Leren became nervous and took a step forward only to be dragged back by Su He: "Wait, let's see what this group wants to do first."

The cloaked men were silent for a moment, and two of them talked in a low voice. Finally, they said, "You can call us the night watch."

"Demons?" Ning Zhou coldly asked.

The demon under the cloak smiled bitterly, took off his hood, and showed a ferocious mutated face: "Yes, but we are lucid demons."

The young man saved by Ning Zhou shook even harder, his teeth rattled in the shaking. He seemed likely to faint at any moment.

"On this night of the new moon, all those who fall asleep will become demons, while those who are awake... will become the targets of demons. Although we’re standing here now, we can walk and talk, but in fact we are also sleeping. It can be said that we’re ‘sleepwalking’. On every night of the new moon, we look for the living who haven’t fallen asleep while we sleepwalk and save them before the demons eat them. We let them forget all this, and then sleep peacefully. Foreigner, promise me to keep this a secret like we do," the cloaked man said huskily.

"Why don't you tell people? Aren’t you letting this kind of thing continue?" Ning Zhou asked.

Within the faint flute music, a ferocious yet sad smile appeared on the night watchman's mutated face.

"The crimes committed by people in ignorance can be forgiven by God. Every night of the new moon, these people who fall asleep take off their clothes in their dreams, become cannibals, hunt their own kind everywhere, then clean up all traces before dawn, put on the cloak of human beings again, and wake up safely... This night has passed for eight years without incident. If one day, this hypocritical peace is broken and innocent people know that they were eating people, then the city will really be finished. They... Us, anyone will fall into hell and will no longer be redeemed."

Eating people... Once again, Qi Leren remembered the young man who recorded all this in his notebook. Did he end up being eaten by demons? Thinking again about the knock on the door he had heard that last time... the people who appeared in his home that night were probably only his relatives who had already fallen asleep.

Qi Leren felt a tumult in his stomach, as if it were burning. He covered his stomach and tried not to imagine the bloody and cruel picture.

The young man saved by Ning Zhou let out a cry of despair and threw up on the roof. On every night before this night, he slept like the bloody demons and greedily attacked the living. He couldn't help thinking of one day many years ago, when he’d spent the night of the new moon safely in his dream, he woke up feeling happy and satisfied physically and mentally, as if he had had a beautiful dream. On that day, the old woman next door who’d watched him grow up had disappeared in the disaster of the new moon…

That kind smile reappeared on the demonic face of the night watchmen: "Look. Knowing that you’ve eaten people is far more terrible than the eating of people itself."

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[gentlemen-of-lies]

Gentlemen of Lies, chapter 10

Farewell, Auf Wiedersehen, Adieu...

Previous chapter

Beginning

Next chapter

————

Curt managed to come round a few times, but each time was such a blur that it felt like part of a dream. One of those dreams you have when you’re half awake and you can’t figure out what’s real and what’s your mind playing tricks on you. It wasn’t until the following morning, when Curt was lying safely in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery he’d had on his foot, that he was able to string two coherent thoughts together and try and get his head around the idea that he’d somehow survived the previous evening.

There was certainly a lot for him to take in; Lawson, Owen, the entire plot itself and how much it backfired on the perpetrator. He supposed Lawson was dead, it was impossible for him not to be. He also wondered how much of Bletchley was destroyed, if not just hut 8. And then he wondered if Owen was alive, surprised it hadn’t been his first thought, but then his head was all over the place at the moment. He wondered whether Owen had made it to the hut in time or not and if he had got out alive, where he was, how he felt. Curt didn’t know what Owen’s relationship with Lawson had been, but there must have been something there judging by Owen’s desperation, and the man’s death couldn’t have been easy for him, especially under the preventable  circumstances. Or at least, Owen would think they were preventable, but Curt didn’t think so. Under the time limit, and with Curt out of action and needing assistance to get out of the compound, Owen had no choice. But Curt didn’t think that would be much of a comfort.

Speaking of Owen, to Curt’s surprise, and relief, he visited during the afternoon, which meant that he was indeed alive. He had a few stitches on his chin, and he was walking with a cane, but all in all he didn’t seem that injured. At least, not physically.

Curt was sitting up in bed, staring at the ceiling when Owen arrived. He couldn’t quite detach himself from his mind right now, any distraction from his thoughts never stuck, his mind would just wander so far back to the compound that he could barely even see what was in front of him, be it food or a book. So he gave up. The ceiling it was, with a large water stain on the paintwork the focus for his wandering. He didn’t notice Owen right away, until he heard someone clear their throat. Curt raised his head from the pillow, and stared directly at Owen. He noticed the man was once again sporting his brown cap, a sight which felt weirdly familiar, even though Curt had only seen it twice. He supposed the last time he’d seen it was near the beginning of the case, on his first few days in England. It felt like weeks ago now, a different lifetime, where he was just a second year spy staying in a mangy hostel. Now he was Agent Curt Mega, a mangy hospital and a strapped up leg replacing the broken bed frame of room 17.

“How, uh... how are you?” Asked Owen, his voice similar to that of a sibling who had been told to play nice by their mother.

“I’ve been better,” replied Curt. “You?”

“Likewise.” Owen glanced over the room and spotted a chair for him to sit down on, near to Curt’s bed. “The agency have marked Lawson as the culprit, I didn’t have any choice but to tell them who it was, otherwise the case would never have ended.”

“Why didn’t you want to tell them?” Asked Curt. Now that things were over, he was curious to finally find out why Owen was so caught up with Lawson. He supposed they must have been friends, but there was something odd about it. Curt couldn’t quite work out why.

“I suppose I didn’t want him to be blamed. To be forever marked as a traitor.” He stood up again, apparently leaving already, which looked slightly comical seeing as he had only sat down a second ago. “This job...” he began. “Has a dark side to it, Curt. Frankly, I was forced into it by the government itself, what with my expert aim and knowledge on foreign affairs.” Curt wasn’t sure why Owen was telling him all this, but he listened nonetheless. “I must admit, I have no real loyalty to MI6, and you shouldn’t have too much loyalty for your own agency. If anything, makes for a better spy. You take more risks, and the outcome doesn’t worry you.”

“No offence, Carvour, but... what you’re saying doesn’t really have to do with anything that’s happened.”

“Perhaps not.” Owen rested his hand on the end of Curt’s bed, and Curt didn’t know whether he was waiting for some sort of comment, or if he was going to start speaking again. Curt didn’t bother to wait and find out; he had too many questions.

“What was Lawson trying to achieve?” He didn’t know how to put all of his questions into one, and he hoped this one would be enough for a general overview.

“I think he was just trying to not get killed by the government.”

“But why would the government kill him for no reason? He gave them a reason.”

“Yes he did, but not the one you think he gave. He already had a reason, or they already had a reason, whichever way you want to see it.” Owen was making no sense. Was that his thing? Giving answers as vague as possible, and leaving the recipient more confused than before. Curt decided not to ponder on it.

“And who’s him? Lawson said it was over for him. In the hut, someone worked there. What was he talking about?” Owen didn’t reply right away, in fact he almost looked like he wasn’t going to reply at all; he was edging nearer and nearer to the door.

“You know what, Curt. There’s a lot you don’t know, and I can’t be bothered to explain it to you. You’re just going to have to forget about it all, fly back to America, solve any little cases that come your way, and hopefully we never meet again. Because, frankly, Mega, I don’t like you.” The finality of the statement felt weirdly hurtful, which annoyed Curt. Why should this bastard get to hurt him? But he supposed he understood. At the end of the day, if it wasn’t for Curt, Lawson may still be alive.

Curt didn’t know how he felt about that.

“You can’t hate me that much,” replied Curt, inexplicably in his opinion. Owen was about to leave. Let him. “You could’ve left me, saved Lawson.”

“There was too big a risk that I couldn’t save him, and I wasn’t going to let two people die. I wasn’t going to let you drag me under. There was nothing personal about it, don’t for a second believe there was.”

“Fine. I wasn’t going to.”

“I take it you’ll be flying home as soon as possible?” Asked Owen, for no discernible reason that Curt could see, except to make small talk, which didn’t seem to be his style.

“Soon as my leg’s fixed, sure.” He knocked on his metal splint for effect.

“Well then, I suppose this is a goodbye.” Owen didn’t smile at him, in fact his expression remained entirely blank. Disconnected. Owen wouldn’t miss Curt for a moment.

“I suppose it is.” Curt wouldn’t miss him either.

————

Curt was back in his hostel for the last time. His leg was on the mend; all he needed now was a walking cane, which the doctors assured he’d only need for another few weeks, then his leg would be good as new. His injury hadn’t been career ending, which was a relief. He’d almost be ready to jump back immediately into the field. And jump back in was what he was intending to do. He was worried that after his experience in England, he would be reluctant to get back in the field, a worry which he dealt with by putting it out of his mind entirely, determined to throw himself back into his job and work himself away from any hesitation he felt. His fears would manifest themselves at night, during his fitful few hours of sleep, and that was where they would stay. Curt could do nothing about them, but he refused to let his daytime be tainted.

Packing was easy, there wasn’t much to pack after all, so he was out of the hostel within an hour, after a quick goodbye to Bill of course. He found himself being a little sad to leave Bill. He had been walking past him every day for the last week, and the man let him read the newspapers he bought for himself when he was finished with them. Curt appreciated that enough to give him a fair tip on his way out. He wouldn’t miss the hostel though, by any means, and he was fairly certain he wouldn’t miss Earl’s Court either. But he still had one last coffee and terrible ham and cheese sandwich from the café near the hostel, for old times sake.

As for Owen, Curt hadn’t seen him since he visited that one time in the hospital. He supposed that was a good thing, there was no need for him to keep Owen playing on his mind, and he was sure Owen had forgotten him the moment he’d stepped out of the hospital. Curt had no intention of saying a proper goodbye. Owen wasn’t worth missing his flight over.

Curt didn’t have to take a normal flight back this time, least of all economy class. Cynthia had arranged a proper private jet back for him, which was certainly an upgrade, although he wasn’t sure why Cynthia had decided to let him finally use the benefits that the A.S.S had to offer. It was hardly an assumption that she knew what had happened, and perhaps she felt sorry for him.

Jeez, Curt, you’ve been away for too long. Cynthia never felt sorry for anyone, least of all him. She probably just wanted him back faster so she could get straight round to telling him off for fucking up the case so badly, because at the end of the day, there was really no denying that he had fucked up. A preventable death had happened on his watch and he’d got injured in the process.

But don’t think about that Curt. Nighttime only, remember?

And at least he could let himself enjoy the free champagne that came with the private jet.

“One glass only,” the flight attendant said when Curt had asked for another. “Cynthia’s orders.” Curt sighed. Typical Cynthia controlling every single thing he did. A puppeteer hanging over its puppet.

“Why does Cynthia have to know?” He tried, raising his eyebrow and smirking, a vaguely flirtatious tone in his voice. The flight attendant kept as stoic as ever, simply repeated her order not to give Curt any more champagne, and left him rolling his eyes with only the view of clouds outside the window to keep him entertained, as he made his journey back to America. Away from England, away from MI6 and its stupid abandoned huts for people to blow up. Away from Owen, and away from the nightmares of exploding buildings, the look on Lawson’s face, on Owen’s. The hands grabbing Curt as he fell to the ground outside the compound.

He locked it away, as was his duty. His career was just beginning, and this was by no means the last time he’d experience traumatic events like these. If he let himself think about any of them for even a second, he’d crumble immediately.

A spy is a spy. That’s the only motto he needed, the only thing that mattered. You’re a spy, Curt. And a spy keeps himself hidden from his job, for protection. And you don’t let reality touch you. Otherwise, what would be the point of getting out of bed at all?

England was swept out of his mind along with the clouds beside him, and he was focused now on America. Next case he received- if Cynthia permitted it- would be better. He was sure of it. He wouldn’t screw it up at all. And he’d do it alone, with no one there to drag him down.

————

End of Act 1

[mrsalwayswrite]

Say You’ll Stay - Chapter 5

Fury/Band of Brothers Crossover Fic

To those of you wondering when our beloved Easy boys are coming into play... this chapter gives a hint and as to where they are in their journey. 

Also, italics means character is speaking in French. 

Tag List: @happyveday​ @alwaysindecemberfeels​ @god-of-dramatic-death-scenes​ @saritanotserena​

Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

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

Anna woke before the sun and slipped out of the cottage before anyone else was awake. Even through the lingering exhaustion that had taken up permanency in her bones, her mind was used to field hospital hours and Nurse Falk's timeliness. So in the still quiet hours, she hurried towards the church. 

 Although she would like to say she was surprised, she really was not to see Medic Hunter awake and checking on the few patients they had. 

 "Did you sleep at all, Joe?" She whispered, not wishing to disturb those still sleeping. 

 "Some." He shrugged, keeping his own voice low. "Figured I could get caught up once you came back. Everything alright? They treat you well."

 "Yes. I even got to sleep in a real bed."

 He gave a low whistle as they moved towards the back and away from the patients. "Lucky duck."

 "How are they? Do we know when they will be evacuated?"

 "Not yet. I'll talk to Captain Evans today. Private Harris has a low fever now, I'm worried about infection."

 "I'll watch him today. Go sleep, I can handle this."

 "Thanks, wake up Arthur if you need anything. The other medics are staying in the building next door." Joe said, squeezing her shoulder. Quietly, he walked towards a side door which led to a private room that they had taken over from the local priest.

 With a sigh, she let down her hair and ran her fingers through it, attempting to get all the knots and tangles out. What she would give for a glorious bath. Quickly, she twisted the long strands and pulled it back into her usual bun on the back of her head. 

 "Nurse…" a voice croaked out in the gloom. 

 And with that, she went back to work. 

 That day flew by as she and the other medics worked tirelessly on helping their patients, especially as throughout the day, Private Harris' fever worsened. At one point she was called away to help translate for Captain Evans, conversing with the local priest once again. As night fell, her movements were weary-laden and mind sluggish but she persevered. 

 She knelt by Private Harris, dabbing a cool, wet cloth on his forehead when the main door opened to the church. At the moment, her patient began coughing so she paid no mind to the newcomer and focused on soothing the young man before her. She could hear quiet talking and knew one of the other medics was dealing with the newcomer. 

 "Nurse Cooper?"

 She looked behind her. "Norman?" Standing up, her eyes scanned him with worry as he slowly approached. "Are you alright? Are you injured?"

 "No, no. Um, Boyd sent me… and well Don too. They are finishing up and said to meet them back at the house." 

 "Oh? Well, let me… do you mind waiting a couple minutes? I need to tell Joe, see if there is anything else I need to do first."

 He smiled that endearing boyish grin, so full of sweet innocence even amidst a bloody war. "I'll wait by the door."

 "Thank you." She watched him walk away and then headed to where Joe sipped some water, leaning against a table covered in medical supplies. 

 "Heading out?" 

 She nodded, hands fiddling with her uniform. "Anything else I can do first?"

 He shook his head. "No, get outta here. An aid truck is coming tomorrow to pick up the wounded. Rumor is we're heading out early tomorrow for the next town."

 She sighed. She should not be surprised but for some reason it still caught her off guard how quickly they would just up and move, leave the wounded and killed and move on. Only to repeat the process all over again. This was war. Something she had to frequently remind herself. She still hated it. 

 "Ok, I'll be here to help load the wounded." She started towards the main door but turned on her heel to look at Joe again. "And don't forget to write to your wife. You can send the letter with the medics. Nurse Falk would forward it." 

 "Yeah, yeah. Don't you forget to write too."

 She smiled and met Norman at the door. Together they headed out, down the steps of the church and towards the cottage they had stayed at the night before. 

 After a couple of minutes, she broke the silence between them. The question had been dwelling in the back of her mind. He looked so much younger than the others. "How old are you, Norman?"

 "Eighteen."

 "And how did you end up on Fury? Did you go to tank school?"

 He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. "No. I was supposed to be a clerk, a typist. That's what I went to school for."

 "Oh! How did…."

 "They lost their bow gunner. The army pulled me off the bus and told me to report to Don."

 "I'm sorry. I'm guessing it wasn't easy."

 "No, no it wasn't. At first I hated them, especially Don. He made me sh… well, it doesn't matter now."

 "What?" Curiosity tugged at her as she glanced at the young soldier by her side. 

 He inhaled sharply then the words poured out like water, begging to be released. "He forced me to shoot a Nazi in the back. Wrapped my hand around the gun and forced me to pull the trigger. Said he was teaching me to do my job. I never wanted this. I didn't want to kill people. I was drafted. I just…" he seemed to suddenly realize all he confessed and slammed his mouth shut. 

 She stopped walking on the side of the street, ignoring the other soldiers and locals. Her heart broke for this young man who had been thrust into a situation he never wanted to be in, who was forced to do things he had never imagined for himself. How true was that for most of the other soldiers she interacted with daily. 

 "Norman, my mother always said that a hug can't take away the pain but it can help remind you that you're not alone. So, can I give you a hug?"

 That seemed to startle him. His eyes widened, mouth opened slightly as he froze, standing next to her.  Hesitantly he looked around before finally meeting her eyes. She could see it behind the surprise in his gaze, that raw vulnerability, the desperate need for physical contact that was more than a slap on the back from a crew member. 

 "Oh, come here." She took the initiative, not waiting for a verbal response, and wrapped her arms around him. After an awkward second, he put his arms around her, returning the hug. She was only a couple inches shorter than him, but the way he clung to her, it felt like a child clinging to an older sibling for comfort. The feeling brought tears to her eyes. It had been some time since she gave or received a hug like this and she may have selfishly held him longer than necessary. A couple moments later, they released one another. Norman took a step back and rubbed the back of his neck once again. 

 "See, that wasn't bad."

 His cheeks turned pink at her comment but he nodded his head, a small smile on his face. 

 They finished walking to the cottage in companionable silence. She wrapped her arms around herself, the night's air sleeping through her few layers to bring a chill to her bones. The worst of winter might be over but it was by no means warm yet. Or at least warm enough for her taste. 

 On the street, it was obvious a war was going on. Between the soldiers and tanks, the random splattering of blood from dead men that waited to be washed away with the next rain, it could not be mistaken for anything else. Inside the cottage, it felt like the eye of a hurricane or an oasis in the desert. Everything was still pristine, clean and orderly. Black and white photos on the walls, cushioned chairs, a basket for knitting in the corner of the room, a small stack of books on a side table. It was odd walking into such a domestic scene after seeing the evidence of war just outside. 

 "Odette!" She called out in French after she and Norman walked into the cottage and headed towards the kitchen. "It smells like heaven in here!" 

 "Anna, dear, you are too good to this old woman." The elderly woman chuckled, stirring a large pot over the stove. Even though her hair was gray, wrinkles around her eyes and mouth and she shuffled when she walked, her mind and tongue were sharp as a tack still. "The cassoulet is all done, just keeping it warm for the young men."

 "They should be here soon I believe."

 "Why don't you go sit down until then? Mmm, you must be exhausted, I tell you nurses never are able to put up their feet for a minute. Was the same with the last war and now this one."

 "Yes ma'am, you let me know if there is something I can do." Anna let her hair down, massaging the back of her neck, hoping to relieve the tension slowly building up there. She could hear the door open and headed back out to the common room to let them know dinner was ready. 

 When she came around the corner, Norman was sitting down near the fireplace with a book in his lap. Instead of the rest of the crew it was just Gordo and Grady making their way in. Gordo dropped down onto a different chair, immediately putting his feet up on an adjacent chair, uncaring of the mud his boots trekked in. 

 Grady's eyes landed on her, the weight of them making her freeze. "Looky whose still here, boys!" He barked a rough laugh that made her wince. 

 "Leave her alone." Norman said. 

 "Leave her alone." Grady mimicked at Norman before sweeping his eyes back to her. "You sucking his cock too, just like Boyd's?" 

 "Wha… what?" She stuttered out but he did not seem to really expect an answer. 

 He prowled towards her, each footstep landing loudly in the cottage. "Not gonna share with the rest of us? Huh? Just them pretty boys?"

 The way his eyes raked over her made her shiver but not in a good way. She backed up a few steps but found herself bumping into the edge of the doorway. 

 "Grady!" Norman rose to his feet, book still in hand. Gordo just sat there watching the drama unfold before him, fiddling with the gold chain necklace he wore.

 Grady turned to face the younger man, pointing a finger. "You stay outta this."

 When his back was turned, Anna reached under her uniform dress and pulled out the combat knife Don had given her back at the field hospital, what felt like ages ago. She had hoped she would never have to use it… especially against one of his own crew. She held the knife just in front of her at chest level. Surprisingly her hand was steady, even if the rest of her felt like she was trembling. 

 "Ohhh, better watch out. Kitty's got claws." Gordo teased, still making no move to get involved. 

 Grady turned back to her and seeing the knife, his smile grew. "What you gonna do, little girl? Gonna stab me? Huh? That's it?"

 She said nothing, just watched and waited. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Odette watching, frail hands gripping her apron until her knuckles were white. 

 Grady took one more step closer, almost as if waiting to see what she would do; like a predator toying with its prey one last time before pouncing. 

 The front door opened; boots sounded on the hard floor. Anna and Grady's eyes remained locked even as the tension in the room increased with the new occupants witnessing the scene before them. 

 "Someone want to explain what the fuck is going on?" Sergeant Collier stated, anger bubbling just under the surface of his cool tone. 

 Grady retreated back a step, turning to face his commanding officer. "Nothin', Don. Just having some fun." 

 "Fun, huh? Then why's she got a goddamn knife out?" 

 "Anna…" Boyd started to walk towards her. 

 Before he could reach her, Odette shuffled in and wrapped an arm around Anna's shoulders, glaring at the men in the room. "Come on, dear."

 Without a word, she tore her eyes away from Grady and followed their hostess down the short hallway to the guest bedroom she had stayed in the previous night. The whole time she kept the knife in hand. Soon as they walked away, she could hear the raised voices coming from the common room. 

 "What's the problem?! She's just some girl." Grady spoke first, an almost laugh to his voice as if this was all some joke. 

 "She's not some girl. She's a goddamn nurse! Show some respect."

 "Oh? She sucking your cock too, huh, Don?"

 "Get out!" Don yelled. "If you're gonna act like a dog then I'll treat you like one and you can sleep outside."

 "You're gonna choose that bitch over your own crew?" 

 "Get the fuck out or so help me God I will shoot you right now and sleep like a baby tonight!" 

 Silence… then the front door opened and slammed shut, rattling even the painting on the wall in the far back guest room. 

 Anna dropped the knife on the ground and placed the hand over her mouth, the first hot tear rolling down her cheek. It had been a mistake coming here. She should have stayed at the church with Joe. Even then, she knew she was not fully safe. She should have stayed back at the field hospital, back with the other nurses who looked out for each other. She should have stayed home and never signed up for the Nurse Corps. 

 A knock on the bedroom door jolted her, making her flinch. Odette looked at her, arm still around her shoulders. 

 "Anna?"

 The elderly lady made no move towards the door. Silently she continued to stare at Anna but raised an eyebrow in question. The nurse nodded, not looking up from her hands laying limply in her lap. As Odette walked the couple steps to the closed bedroom door, Anna tried to brush away the evidence of her tears on her dirty sleeves, wondering when all those tears escaped. 

 Boyd stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. "May I come in?"

 She looked up, holding his gaze for a moment, then nodded and glanced at Odette. "Thank you."

 "If you need me, I am just a call away." She shuffled back down the hallway, giving Boyd a long look before disappearing. 

 "I'm so sorry, Anna." He finally said, sounding far more weary than she had ever heard from him. He had only stepped into the room but made no further movement. "I told you you'd be safe here and then Grady…"

 "It's not your fault, Boyd." She said after his words drifted off. Her eyes dropped back to her lap, hands picking at her fingernails. 

 "Feels like it. I should have come get you instead of Norman. Shit. I reckon you want to head back to the church instead of staying here? Can't really blame you there if you do."

 "I don't know honestly. Nowhere is safe for me."

 "Well if it helps, Don kicked Grady out, though I assume you heard that. So, if you stay, you'll be safe here tonight. Don won't let nothing happen to you. Me neither. I suspect Norman feels the same way. He looked like he was ready to take a swing at Grady himself." When she did not respond, he finally moved to sit next to her on the bed. "Grady, he… war changes folks in ways they'd never guess."

 "I know." 

 They sat in silence for several moments. 

 Boyd reached down and picked the knife off the floor near her feet where she had dropped it. "Did Don give you this?"

 "Mmm? Yeah." She gingerly took it back from him then narrowed her eyes at his smug look. "Why?"

 He shrugged, looking like the cat that caught the canary. "Nothin'."

 Her eyes drifted to his hands again and noticed the bandage wrapped around his hand. Guilt flooded her at the sight. Her day felt so chaotic, she had completely forgotten to check his laceration. "I'm sorry, I haven't checked your hand today."

 "S'fine. Gordo rebandaged it for me this mornin'. You can look at it tomorrow. Sides, ain't that bad no more. You got worse patients I reckon back at the church."

 "Still… I want to make sure you're alright."

 "Thank you, Anna. Tomorrow, you can." He stood up and turned sideways to look down at her. "You wanna come out and eat?"

 "No… I'm not hungry. I'm… I'm just going to go to sleep."

 "Alright. Good night, Anna. You make sure to eat in the mornin' then. You need to eat regularly."

 "I will. Good night, Boyd."

 Soon as he shut the door behind him, she curled up on the bed. She laid there for some time, allowing the stray tears to finally fall, no longer strong enough to keep containing them. She was thankful no one interrupted and they just allowed her peace. The stillness in the room felt like a haven. She could hear the others occasionally but there was no longer shouting. 

 Normally she would fall asleep but right now her emotions were rolling, keeping her from relaxing. Carefully she slid to the side of the bed and grabbed her personal bag. After a minute she pulled out her worn copy of Pride and Prejudice. She smiled faintly thinking about the many nights her mother would read it to her before tucking her in for bed. Then when she got older, it became her favorite book to read over and over to herself. It was one of only a few possessions she still had that traveled with her from home. She cracked it open to where her bookmark was. For a second, she traced her finger over the beloved words, pretending she was home in her bedroom and the only things she had to worry about were her university applications. She lay curled on her side, allowing the words to drift over her skin and mind, a soothing balm for her nerves. 

 Once it became too dark to make out the words, she closed the book and replaced it in her bag. Slowly she sat up, rubbing her eyes. The house had been quiet for some time now. She guessed by this point everyone was asleep. Slipping off the bed, she headed out of the bedroom door. Although she was still not hungry, her throat felt parched. Between the crying and many hours of reading, it had been far too long since she had a drink. Carefully she moved towards the kitchen. She could make out the forms of Norman sleeping on the floor and Gordo on a chair, head tilted back and snoring. 

 Using the pitcher left on the counter, she filled a cup up with the water and drank it. It immediately soothed her throat and she sipped more slowly on a second glass. She stared outside the window above the sink, a full moon shone through. Suddenly the strong urge to bask in its light filled her and she acted on instinct. She set the cup down and swiftly moved towards the back door, opening it as quietly as she could as to not wake the cottage's sleeping occupants. 

 The full moon shone brightly in the cloudless sky, the stars twinkling alongside it like thousands of diamonds in the sky. War could ravage the earth until all that remained was smoke and barren ground, but it could never touch the heavens. There was something comforting about that fact. The beauty and majesty of the heavens could never be tainted by human hands. 

 She stood there, arms crossed over her chest in an attempt to ward off the chill of the night air as she looked upward. A gentle breeze made her hair, still unbound, sway around her. 

 It was not until the smell of cigarette smoke hit her, did she pay any attention to her surroundings. With a gasp, she scanned the immediate area and finally noticed a tall form standing just a few feet away, the burning end of a cigarette almost a beacon in the surrounding darkness. 

 "Oh! I didn't think anyone else would be out here. I'm so sorry to interrupt." 

 "S'alright." Sergeant Collier said, still more of a hidden shadow than recognizable form. "Didn't mean to startle you."

 "It's my own fault. I should have paid better attention." She looked back up skyward, lamenting the fact she should head back in and try to get some sleep before tomorrow. 

 "I'm sorry about earlier." He stated bluntly. "It won't happen again. I swear." 

 "Thank you." She whispered, twisting her fingers together, trying to force back the wave of nervousness. "Um, can I …" she gestured towards him. 

 Somehow, he understood her vague gesture. He pushed off the wood pile he had been leaning against and came to stand next to her. Silently, he handed his cigarette over. She could feel his eyes on her as she put it to her lips and inhaled. Immediately she began coughing, eyes watering, as the smoke stung her lungs. 

 He chuckled as she handed the cigarette back. "Not a smoker?"

 "No." She coughed out. "No, I've tried but I can never get used to it."

 "Probably better for you." He exhaled, the smoke drifting away and into the sky. 

 They stood there silently, side by side. Anna could not help but notice how much taller he was than her. He had to be around six feet tall with her only coming up to him mid-chest. In the moonlight, his strong features appeared softer, less intimidating. 

 Though the memory of Norman's story from earlier came to mind. How this man next to her forced his newest crew member, someone who was still practically a child, to kill a Nazi point-blank in the back. That fact alone should scare her. The inhumanity of it. But then she was reminded of how he defended her earlier from someone else in his crew. Even how he looked out for her by giving her a knife when he barely knew her. It made no sense. Why was he looking out for her? She was no one to him. Her mind struggled to put the two facets of the man together in her mind. 

 "You going to be out here much longer?" He broke the silence, still staring forward.

 "Um, maybe a few more minutes."

 He nodded, tossing his spent cigarette to the ground. To her surprise, he slipped his leather jacket off and dropped it over her shoulders. 

 "What? Oh no, it’s-"

 "Doll, I can see you shivering. You can give it back in the morning."

 She huffed but could not suppress the small smile on her face, almost amused how easily he saw through her blatant lie. It was chilly out here but peaceful, and she needed some more of the quiet tranquility before going back inside. "Thank you, Sergeant Collier."

 "You can call me Don."

 "Then you have to call me Anna."

 His lips twitched in what she thought was a smile, but she was unsure with the shadows. "Alright. Night, Anna." He turned and stepped inside, the door shutting with a soft click. 

 It was a long moment before she turned back around to stare up at the sky. She slipped her arms in the sleeves, hugging the jacket closer to her, surprised by how warm it was. It smelled strongly of cigarettes, sweat and something distinctly male. The stench should offend her, she doubted it had been washed anytime recently, but instead she found herself burying her nose into it. It was huge on her shorter form, but it brought a feeling of comfort, like when a child wears something of their parent's clothing, pretending to be grown up. 

 He was an enigma to her. Someone she knew was dangerous but protectively loyal. What scared her the most though was when he called her the pet name, it woke up a swarm of butterflies in her belly. 

 *****

 The sunrise just peeked over the wooded horizon. Another day of war. Another day to try and survive. Another day to hope your crew survived. Another day to wonder why the Nazis did not just give up. 

 Fuck 'em all. 

 Don brushed past the infantry soldiers running around, trying to find their platoons or looking last minute for one of their guys probably off sleeping somewhere. He headed towards where the tanks were waiting on the edge of the little town. 

 "What's the news, boss?" Binkowski asked, as Don approached the other three tank commanders. They stood several paces away from the tanks, clearly having been waiting for him to return with orders. 

 "Right. We're heading out…"

 "No shit." The big blond deadpanned. The others glared at him. "What?"

 "One of these days, I'm going to shoot you." Don stated, only half-serious. He found he enjoyed the blond's dry humor. Binkowski was also the man to jump first into a fight, which either made him quite brave or incredibly stupid. Don had not determined which quality it was yet. 

 "Nah, you'd miss me too much."

 "Like a hole in the head." Davis muttered, a frown on his ever-stoic face. 

 They all chuckled but then grew serious again when Don started speaking. 

 "Right. Intel says Krauts are drawing back into Germany. We've been requested by a battalion of paratroops to help them hold the area near Haguenau, so that's where we are headed, boys. Captain Evans and his boys will continue on past and link up with another company set to push into Germany."

 "Paratroopers?" Peterson questioned, dropping his cigarette on the ground. 

 "Yeah, those idiots that decided to jump out of plans, go behind enemy lines, all that shit." Binkowski explained, with a short bark of sarcastic laughter. "Must think they're something special."

 "Why don't you ask them when we get there?" 

 "Alright, here's the lineup- Fury, Murder Inc, Lucy Sue and Old Phyliss. Evans wants us in the front so we can peel off when we reach the main road to Haguenau. Should take a couple of days to get there." Don said. 

 The other three nodded or grunted their affirmative. 

 "Good, mount up!" 

 Everyone headed to their tanks, crew jumping into their positions and turning on their comms. Don headed to Fury but slowed his steps when he saw Grady standing in front of the tank with Boyd by his side. Gordo and Norman had their heads popped out of their holes watching. 

 With a sigh, he moved closer. He knew Boyd would not let this go. In all honesty, it was probably better to get this dealt with now instead of letting it fester like an infected wound. His crew did not need bad blood between one another. They would never survive if they did not trust each other. Grady refused to meet his gaze as Don stood in front of his gunner and mechanic.

 "She's not some whore you can rough up. She's a good girl."

 Grady rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. "I know, Don. I didn't mean nothin' by it."

 "You still scared her good." Boyd said quietly, hands in his pockets. "Should apologize to her."

 Grady nodded, staring at his feet. 

 "You better or I'll kick your ass."

 The mechanic looked up at the gunner, a smirk on his face. "Kick my ass, huh? You sweet on her or something?"

 Boyd rolled his eyes. "No, I ain't, and you know it. She reminds me of my little sister."

 Gordo chirped up, chuckling in his seat. "She's too pretty to look like your little sister, if your sister looks anything like you."

 "Shut up, Gordo."

 The crew clambered up into their positions, the tension dispelled. 

 Don stood on his seat, surveying around. The slight shifting of movement brought a fresh wave of scent that was not his own. Somehow underneath the grime, there was the faintest hint of something that reminded him of lilacs. Turning his head, he sniffed at the collar of his jacket and was hit by the scent once again. It had been the most pleasurable torture since he put the jacket on that morning. He had found it resting on the back of one of the chairs in the common room when he stumbled out of the second guest bedroom. 

 The scent brought him back to the prior night and watching the little, redheaded nurse staring at the night sky with a soft smile on her face. Bathed in the moonlight she looked like an angel to him. After he had gone inside, he had stood at the sink, looking out the window above it for a couple minutes watching her. Alone, he allowed a smile on his face when he noticed her burying herself in his jacket. It had been a spur of the moment decision to give her his jacket and now he was wondering if he regretted the action or loved it. Her scent lingered with him, just like her. 

 He looked around once more, most of the men in position. He could not help but look towards the back of the company where the medic truck was located. Where she was. 

[foreficfandom]

Mystic Messenger - Little Bad Habits (Dating MC)

– Zen –

Litter. Everywhere. Not permanently, he’s not that much of a slob, he does do chores regularly and stuff. But he just ... tosses his clothes and cigarette wrappers and other things literally everywhere, and leaves it for ‘later’. 

Since he’s so anal about his health, he kinda disrupts your own eating habits by coincidence. Grocery shopping can be a challenge when he’s forbidding all desserts and snacks from the cart even though he’s not gonna be eating any of it.

He's bad with technology, so good luck trying to get him to do stuff like answering emails, or paying bills online, or even using apps like Yelp or Uber. You end up in charge of most software in the house. 

It’s sweet that he texts you with random pickup lines and pictures three times a day, but damn it I keep thinking it’s something important I’m expecting, and instead it’s just one of your bathroom selfies with a heart drawn in the fogged up mirror. 

Zen, can you not have these bad tepid takes like ‘women look better without makeup’, or ‘being the man of the house is the mark of being an adult’, or ‘those who couldn’t work for every penny they’ve had don’t deserve it’? No, Zen, let me pout you’re being an idiot right now.

– Yoosung –

AXE bodywash, AXE bodyspray, AXE shampoo. He uses it because it’s ‘manly’? But god it’s so strong and synthetic-smelling. He needs your help in moving away from this brand. 

He’s also prone to clutter, even more so than Zen. It takes a while before he stops leaving all his laundry on the floor and takes that extra step in hanging it up, or folding it into his dresser. And good luck trying to get him to wash dishes every day, rather than leaving it overnight. 

It’d be nice if you were more enthusiastic about my interests, Yoosung. You may not enjoy visiting Sephora as much as I do, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t abandon me at the doorway to hang out at GameStop. 

He does a bunch of these little roommate mistakes like using up all the hot water, or not refilling the Brita, or always leaving the empty toilet paper roll for you. Yoosung, you gotta learn how to live with another person!!

He’ll always be prone to jealousy, which doesn’t cause a problem most days, but if you ever become a fan of some idol or celebrity, be prepared for some pouting, maybe even a cold shoulder or two. He can’t even side-eye the TV like he does catcallers or people on the street, so he’s twice as frustrated. 

– Jaehee –

She’s bad at recycling. She didn’t even do it for a long time, and only started recently. Even now, she’ll toss random plastic bits into either container, paying no mind to whether it’s recyclable or not. She won’t rise milk jugs or tin cans before throwing them away. 

Now that her hair is growing out, she sheds it everywhere. RIP the shower drain, the carpet, the furniture. The two of you gotta invest in rubber mops and lint rollers just for her hair.

She’s a very clean and organized person, except for her makeup, which all sits in a dusty old bag with old leaking bottles getting over everything, brushes and sponges she doesn’t wash, and literally every product is old and expired. And then she kisses you with her lipstick on and causes an acne breakout. 

When she settles down to watch TV while relaxing, she likes to turn her flatscreen up waaayy loud, which is fine unless you’re working on something and the noise is just so distracting. Jaehee, I’m trying to do the books on the cafe, you gotta turn Zen’s musical down!

When she gets colds, she sometimes hides it as long as she can, which makes everyone around her get colds too. She may have been able to avoid a couple of boring sick days, but now you’ve got a sore throat. Thanks, honey, I love you too. 

– Jumin –

He kept calling you in the middle of the day with full expectation that you’d answer every single time, especially during the beginning of the relationship. Jumin, I’ve got my own work. It’s okay if I miss a message or two, I’m not your employee.

He has a physical trainer, dietician, and physician regime that he follows rigorously, and he kinda expected you to do the same even if you didn’t want to. Even now, he brings up a nutrition plan once and a while, even if you are totally not interested in following a food calendar. “It’s for your health, love,” well, Jumin, my health calls for a big bowl of barbecue chips. 

He’s surprisingly clingy in bed. The two of you fall asleep in the middle of the mattress, and by morning you’re hanging on for dear life at the edge of the bed while Jumin is pushing as close to you as humanly possible. More than once you’ve been rudely awakened by falling out of bed and hitting the hard marble floor. 

Jumin, stop entering the bathroom while I’m on the toilet, or in the shower! I close the door for a reason. No it’s not like I wanna avoid you, I just wanna shit in peace

He sometimes makes plans without your input, which works for surprises, but not so much for dinner at the Galaria and he’s already downstairs waiting for you while you’re totally not ready. 

– Saeyoung –

All that Phd. Pepper has to go somewhere, and it tends to escape out of both orifices, so to speak. 

No joke, the boy is gassy. And he teases you with it, like making himself fart right when you decide to sit next to him on the couch just to hear you “EWW!!” and squirm away. You’re lucky you’re cute, 707. 

Even when his work schedule becomes more normal, he still doesn’t keep a regular schedule. He does stretches of days where he stays up until 4am, then he spends the next week sleeping 14 hours a day. It can be hard to spend time with someone who’s either dead tired when you’re awake, or super hyper when you’re about to sleep. 

He’s very particular when it comes to his cars. You can’t eat or drink in them, not even gum. You can’t put your feet anywhere except squarely in the footrests, god forbid you absentmindedly rest them against the dashboard. No picking at the leather, no scratching the carbon fiber, you can pet the soft velvet but you’re on thin ice. 

Saeyoung, can you shower more, please? You smell like old ham and your hair isn’t doing so good either. Yes, I will give you a kiss, but only if you hop in the bathtub right now. 

– Saeran –

Like his brother, his sleeping schedule is wack. He’ll spend several all-nighters and then clonk out for a long while, too tired to do anything. And not because of work, either, he just doesn’t have a good sleep schedule. 

Loves to cook, hates to clean. Leaves all the dirty dishes, pans and pots, and countertops for as long as humanly possible, which means someone else is usually the one stuck cleaning it all up. It gets better when the household arranges duties for everyone so Saeran’s in charge of meals while another cleans up afterwards, but even then it can still get dirty.

Sweats in his sleep, which is further exacerbated by some of his medication. Sleeping next to him means sticky skin and wet bedsheets. He has to wash his pajamas every other day.

You gotta hide your sweets or else Saeran’s gonna steal them. He stress-eats during his worse days, and besides that he’s just got a monster sweet tooth, so he’ll finish his entire pint of ice cream and steals yours, too. Then he finds your hidden package of gingersnap cookies and oops, there goes your snack.

He hates having his hair cut, it’s a weird sensory experience for him and he gets anxious while having to sit still for so long. He won’t go to the salon so he tries to cut it himself, which hogs up the bathroom for two hours and leaves shed hair all over the sink. Once you start helping him, he feels better about the experience.

– Jihyun –

He cannot be trusted with the laundry. He shrinks all the knitwear, keeps forgetting to clean the lint tray, and all his whites are no longer white. You gotta be in charge if you don’t want your wardrobe to end up like his. 

Jihyun, I know you grew up with money but when the toilet is clogged you don’t call the plumber, you take this plunger and try to unclog it yourself with bleach. And no, we don’t need a new refrigerator just because the light bulb burst. 

He’s surprisingly tough to sleep next to in bed. You eventually get used to it, but for a while you kept getting kicked by his long limbs, or getting punched by a flailing arm. And he drools, too, sometimes onto your hair. 

Why. Do you. Clip your nails on the bed. Ew, stop that. 

He’s prone to getting caught up in hipster food trends, like superfood phenomenons. Jihyun, you know that apricot pits are poisonous, right? I know the co-op recommended them but I gotta feel like that’s a marketing gimmick. Please don’t eat them, put those down. 

[twoidiotwriters1]

Pure Blood 34 (Sirius Black x F!Oc)

Words: 2, 299

Warnings: Injuries. Domestic violence. Pain. Trauma

Masterlist:

Chapter 33. chapter 35

The voices are far away. I feel my body shiver from time to time and several hands touch me. I try to open my eyes, but the light hurts. I want to speak, but only a groan comes out of my mouth. My throat burns, my lungs are desperate for air.

I move my hand, a stabbing pain runs through my body, like lightning, spreading from my legs all the way up to my head. I complain again, I hear voices more clearly.

"Persephone, stay still, please…”

That's Jane. I'm with Jane. Why?

"Persephone, stop moving, you will hurt yourself more,” I feel hands on my arms and I growl. "If you listen to me, squeeze my hand,” I feel her hand on mine. I obey her orders. "Good girl. I know you have questions, your body has gone through a lot. I'll give you a potion so you can sleep. But I need you to stop fighting. You’re safe…”

Her tone sounds desperate, so I stopped moving. Then a liquid passes my lips and travels down my throat.

***

The second time I woke up, I was able to open my eyes. I find myself in an unfamiliar room, the curtains are closed and it is only me, lying on a bed.

I sigh now feeling that my lungs can work better, but with every minute that it takes, the pain keeps coming back, especially in my left arm. I stir by letting out a groan, it doesn't take long for the door to open, illuminating the room a bit for a few seconds.

“How nice that you are awake. I was already worrying, ”says Jane.

I hear him drag a chair to get closer to the bed.

"Jane" I say hoarsely.

"No, don't talk yet" she scolds me. "I will explain everything to you, but first I will heal your wounds"

***

My left arm is broken, I have two broken ribs, almost and that affects my lungs. Many bruises all over my body, my right cheekbone is swollen, I have a cut on my left ear, and several displaced cuts everywhere.

That is the diagnosis or the "simplest" way in which Jane could explain it to me. The healing is horrible and with every salve, potion and bandage change I feel like my bones are about to shatter into a thousand pieces. My screams echo through the room, only when Jane is done do I feel the burning in my throat.

The worst fight against my father happened at my house on the same day that I returned for Christmas holidays. That has been a week. Juno and my mother were on the side of Ares. They helped him, they agreed that I deserved something like that. Balder was another accomplice, he was responsible for various injuries.

I don't remember every detail, until now, in my dreams, green flashes arrive, screams, curses, and pain.

Apollo arrived just before they could assassinate me. My own family.

I’m with Apollo, Jane and Atlas. My parents don't know where I am and they don't want to know. To them, I am dead. Just like Sirius, but worse.

***

1

"You must walk a bit.”

"I've already done it.”

"Not just to go to the bathroom, Persephone."

“It hurts every time I breathe. I can't walk, Jane,” I growl looking at the ceiling.

She sighs.

"I know it hurts, but if you don't start moving, it’ll be worse.”

"This could not be worse.”

“Persephone…”

"Leave me alone.”

***

2

“Sirius wrote to me. Actually, all your friends have,” says Apollo. He’s sitting next to my bed with a book in hand. I don't respond and continue eating. “They’re worried about you. You should answer them.”

"They wrote to you,” I reply.

"If you keep sulking in your misery, you won't be able to go back to school."

"Maybe I don't want to go back…”

"That's a lie and you know it,” I shrug. He shakes his head. "Listen," he leans and takes the tray away from me. “You know I'm not like Jane and maybe I'm not the right person to encourage you to keep going. But you know the consequences very well. You’re not stupid and you’re no longer a kid. Go out, play with Atlas, write to your friends, do something. You are free, Persephone, although it may not feel like it.”

***

3

“I spoke to Dumbledore, you’re allowed to miss the first week. I told him that your body needs more time.”

"What if I don't return?"

Jane sighs.

"Your friends would miss you.”

"Forget the other people. What would happen to me? What if I don't finish school?"

"I can't see the future.”

“Try."

“No,” She answers raising her voice. “What you’re doing is not right. You demand answers that you know already. You cannot hide forever. Neither your brother nor I will allow it. Allow your head to think of someone other than you, Persephone. Think that a war is coming, and that we need every wizard and witch to be able to stop it.”

"Do you know about that?" She nods. "The order of the phoenix?" She nods again. "You said you talked to Dumbledore…”

“Yes, he came yesterday. I don't know how he found out. Your parents tried to hide any scandal…”

"He knew," I whisper.

"What?"

“Before the holidays, he said that he would help me with whatever I needed. He knew something was going to happen. That's why he called me to be part of the Order.”

It would be pretty stupid to tell the whole plan to a girl with parents involved on the wrong side.

I make a face.

"Crafty old man.”

"Persephone!"

“What?"

***

4

In the early morning, I sit up in bed and crawl to the end, I raise my hand and move the curtain. I see the huge garden outside my brother's house, the plants and flowers are illuminated by the dark sky

Today I would be waiting for the train to return to Hogwarts with my friends, with Sirius. But I'm still in bed with my left arm bandaged. Some cuts have closed and the swelling went down.

Physically I am improving and I want to believe that mentally too. My brother and his wife are right, I know they are. It's different from the last time things got tense between my family. This time I fought back, I was strong, but there is something that stops me.

Fear.

Although I’m no longer part of the family, I had never thought to leave them, not even when the whole show started. All my life I admired my father, I admired the loyalty and the dedication that other generations had for me to be in that place.

But now I know it was all a sham. Unnecessary sacrifices, death, murderers, the purity of blood and hatred.

I am free.

It doesn't feel good, but I don't see it as a bad thing either. It was necessary. This is all very complicated for a 17-year-old girl.

Someone cries and interrupts my thoughts. I sigh and get up slowly. My weak body slides towards the door and I open it. I walk until I get to the blue door next to mine.

Atlas is sitting on his bed, holding the railing. He's over a year old, but he still can't get out of the children's prison. Even though the bars are lower.

"What is it, nephew?"

“Monsters," He whispers between hiccups.

"Where?" He points to his closet. I nod and limping a bit I go towards it. I open the two doors and check every corner in detail.

“There's nothing here,” I inform him.

"O’tside?"

I lean out of his window and shook my head.

He sighs in relief. I move the railing so I can sit on the mattress.

"Better?" He nods with a smile. He takes off the covers and crawls over to me. He looks at my bandaged arm.

"It hurt?" He asks pointing at it.

“Yes.”

He pouts, with the help of my good arm he gets up on the bed and kisses my cheek leaving a trail of drool. That makes me laugh.

"Bettur?"

"Yes, thank you, darling.”

He nods, sits down again, but it doesn't last long. He carefully sits on my lap, wraps his arms around my neck and rests his head on my chest.

"Buv u, aunti phony,” He whispers into my chest.

"I love you too, Atlas.”

***

5

"Are you sure this block doesn't go here?" I ask him not very sure of the construction of the castle.

"Mine!" He squeals.

"Yes, I understood that, but it will fall if you put it like that.”

"Yes?" I nod. “Okay.”

“It'll be a problem to share his toys, right?" Jane says sitting down on the grass in front of me.

“So far, he’s only lend me the green blocks. I don't think it's his favorite color. But if he's with other kids, maybe he'll change,” I shrug.

"Well, he’ll have to get used to it soon.”

I turn to see her and she smiles at me.

“You're pregnant?"

"Two months.”

I raise my eyebrows.

"Don't you have anything else to do?" I tease and she nudges my leg lightly. "Does the selfish midget already know?" I ask pointing to the blond castle maker.

"We told him, but I don't think he cares."

I laugh.

“Atlas," I call. "Do you want a brother or sister?"

"I don’ know.”

"Another baby in the house so you can play?”

"With aunti phony!” He points out laughing.

"It's progress,” I nod.

Atlas turns to his blocks.

Jane takes my hand, I return my gaze to her.

"You have visitors," She points out.

I lift my gaze and my breath catches at the sight of Sirius leaning against the frame of the door. His hands inside the pockets of his school pants.

"How long has he been there?" I ask Jane.

"Couple of minutes,” She gets up and walks into the house, not before saying something to Sirius. He nods and takes the blonde's place. Atlas feels the change and turns to look at him closely.

"Did you run away from school?" I ask.

“No, James's parents brought us. Dumbledore agreed.”

I nod.

He looks at me, smiles sideways and takes my hand.

“You'll come back?"

"I should,” I stroke his hand. “Yes, I’ll go back. It’ll be very strange, but I have to finish. Apollo told me that he'll send me off if I don't come back.”

Sirius laughs.

"No," says Atlas trying to remove Sirius's hand.

“Hey, selfish. Don't be rude,” I let go of Sirius and stroke my nephew's blond hair. “Greet the visitor! Atlas, this is my boyfriend, Sirius. Sirius, this is my nephew Atlas.”

Sirius smiles and tries to touch the baby's hand, but he pulls away a bit.

“Mine," he says pointing at me.

"Great, I have competition.”

"Better come in,” I turn to the baby. "I can't carry you, buddy. You'll have to trust Sirius,” I stand up and the baby looks at me confused. "Tomorrow we continue with the castle.”

Atlas pulls on my pants to get up, but he has a hard time. Sirius kneels in front of him. He searches through his pockets and pulls a figure out of them.

A black dog carved out of wood. He shows it to my nephew.

"How about a peace offering?"

Atlas looks at the figure and smiles. He takes it and Sirius takes the opportunity to carry him in his arms.

"Well played. Did you really bring the figure for him?" I ask him walking towards the house.

"It's not much, but since we planned this trip, I wanted to give him something.”

We both walked in.

Apollo and Jane are sitting in an armchair in front of another couple, and in another chair I ese James.

Jane takes her son to his room.

"You can do this if you really want to, Persephone,” says Apollo without deviating.

I sigh and nod. He smiles and gets up to hug me.

"Thank you," I whisper against his chest.

When we part, he kisses my forehead, then he leaves me in full view of the other guests.

“Normally, I wouldn't be so cheesy, but you look terrible and I'm a new man now,” says James hugging me. "You're pretty tough for a Slytherin,” I laugh and we part.

"Percy, these are Fleamont and Euphemia. James's parents,” Sirius introduces us. He puts a hand on my waist.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you," I shook hands with them.

"The pleasure is all ours, darling,” says Fleamont

"They have told us much about you," continues Eufemia. "And I must say that you are more beautiful than I could imagine, even with all that our Sirius told us…”

I look at the aforementioned who is now blushing.

"Thank you, Mrs. Potter," I say laughing.

“It's true, although sometimes h exaggerated. Sometimes I wondered if we were talking about the same girl,” adds James.

"James!" His mother scolds him.

Apollo laughs.

"What did I miss?" says Jane.

Suddenly I feel a strong dizziness. I take Sirius's hand for support.

"You're good?" Sirius asks. I shake my head.

The laughter ends and Apollo approaches. They both lead me to an armchair. Sirius sits on the armrest.

"I'm sorry. It was just a dizziness and nausea, something common lately,” I comment.

“Dizziness and nausea?" James asks. "Anything you want to say, Padfoot?" He points out.

"Don't be an idiot, Prongs.”

"They act like children," says Eufemia. "Behave yourselves, boys!”

"He started," Sirius mumbles.

"He called me an idiot, mum!” James replies.

"I can't believe I actually missed this,” I say laughing.

Taglist: 

@treestarrrrrrrr​   @siriuslysirius1107​   @madmaiden2890​ @ren-ela​  @avipshamitra​   @auroraawrites​ @findzelda​  @lizlil​ @siriusmuch​   @chloe-geoghegan1​ @reverse-hxlland​  @may-rapp​ @the-specific-oceans​ @eveft​  @secret-obsessions​

@xkonpinkx​​    @inkandpen22​  @thagreenmoon​​​

@littledeadgirlwalking​​

@yunloyal

@bloodorangemoonlight​

[lupinsravenclaw]

Until we meet again// The Weasley au

content warning: mention of death, hints of depression, swearing, intense sadness:((

George sat on his bed, staring at the blank wall. No expression on his face other than complete and utter despair. His eyes were dull, lifeless, hurt, while his skin was grey and sickly looking. He had sat there, for hours on end since they had came back from the Battle of Hogwarts. Fred's death, naturally, took a horrendous toll on the Weasley family. From being a jolly, close family to being completely isolated and silent. No one hardly spoke since they had came back, it had been three months. The silence was deadly. And it had corrupted the house completely.

George's eyes were red, swollen and puffy from violent sobs. He hadn't cried for about an hour yet he could form no thoughts, no words. Nothing. It had felt as though he had lost himself, in theory he did. He lay back on his bed, closing his stinging eyes, he wanted to stop replaying the images in his mind, seeing Fred's lifeless body on the floor covered in blood. The memories were printed into his mind like a tattoo, yet unlike a tattoo these memories remain printed and would print in his mind forever. He said to himself ‘it should of been me’, and this thought circulated his broken mind until his eyes became too heavy to keep open- falling into a deep sleep.

"George, wake up you lazy git. Come on it's summer, Weasleys Wizard Wheezes is absolutely chocker! The puking pastels are going down a treat though I’m not sure why, the summer holidays will be ruined”Fred exclaims going off on a tangent before a sleepy George awakens. His eyebrows knit together rubbing his head, a confused expression plastered on his face.

"Freddie?" George asks squinting his eyes.

"The one and only" Fred winks.

"Freddie I don't understand, your supposed to be dea-,"

"Well yes maybe, but I pissed off God so much so he sent me down here,” Fred smirks.

"Is this a dream?" George asks.

"Well of course this is a dream,"

George's face lightens, eyes beginning to tear up.

"It's you Freddie!" George throws his arms around him, he returns the same. Sobbing quietly into each other's shoulders.

"I'm, I'm so sorry. It should of been me Freddie"

"Oi stop that, what happened has happened. It's not your fault" Fred assures.

"If I didn't send you off to fight so quickly you would still be here"

"Please stop blaming yourself, stop holding this anger for yourself. Let it go. The past has happened, let go. It's ok" Fred softly spoken says to a broken George.

“Anyway I have some amazing things to tell you about the other side” Fred says, strolling over to his old bed and falling onto it. George looks enticed as he sits back onto his pillows, savouring every minute with his best friend before it slips out of his grip

“Right so remember the Marauders Map? The names on the front, Moony, Padfoot, Wormtail and Prongs? I found out who they were and you won’t believe it ” Fred says raising his eyebrows in excitement.

“Who are they?” George asks inquisitively.

“James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew. They were best friends at Hogwarts and apparently better known as the prankers of the school,” Fred says crossing his legs.

“WHAT?”

“I know, also that whole situation with Sirius Black it is a huuuuge misunderstanding, honestly once you get to the other side you find out everything,” Fred’s arms rest behind his head and he lays back down.

“So what happened after you, you know. I mean did it hurt?” George asks, looking down.

“Well, it hurt for a little while, I consumed all the pain from the attack then all the emotional pain from after you all found out. It was dreadful, but after a while it started to sink in. I saw you, by the way, holding my cold body. I know how much this is hurting you. I’m so sorry,” Fred says, holding back tears. Occasional voice cracks and choked back tears. Fred raised to see George, and went to sit on his bed.

"I miss you Freddie, I miss you so much. It hurts so much. I want it to stop. The pain. Everything. I just want to be with you," George cried.

"I miss you more than you can imagine. I sit watching you, I feel your pain, every heart ache, every wincing pain you feel. But please you need to think of yourself, and mum. I mean mum, she hasn’t been the same. Percy, Bill and Charlie all dodge her letters everytime she asks them to come down. I know inside they are hurting and they can’t bring themselves to come back, but it’s killing mum. Her and dads relationship is just going downhill. No spark. Nothing. No talk of muggles, no nothing. Ginny she feels like she’s lost both her brothers, she needs you Georgie, so does dad. He goes out every night and sobs for hours on end feeling like he’s lost everyone. Ron doesn’t speak to Harry or Hermione anymore. No owls, no sneaking out. Nothing. It’s heartbreaking,” Fred chokes out, tears running down his cheeks.

George goes to open his mouth, but closes it not knowing what to say feeling overwhelming guilt. He looked around, no life in the room. At this point his eyes were swollen once again and flooded with tears.

“That was awfully modest of you Freddie, a bit too mature for my liking” George laughs, Fred returning the same manner.

“Well what can I say, I’m all knowing and legendary now” Fred jokes smirking. George wipes a tear escaping his eye.

“At least no-one will get confused between us anymore and do the awkward thing when they realise they mess up,” Fred says.

“I’d rather go through life with people mistaking us than to be going through life without you,” Solemnly George said, looking Fred dead in the eyes.

"Come on Georgie your worse than Moaning Myrtle! Also that was painfully cliché it hurt my soul,” Fred says sarcastically. George sniffles.

“Look George, you need to stop dwelling on me. I know it hurts, it feels as though your heart is literally broken, as though knives pierce through your chest every damn second. But things will get better. And one day, maybe not now, but it won’t hurt as much. Your going to go on, find a beautiful wife or husband. Have some annoying kids, teach them about their legendary uncle Fred. How he wishes he could meet them, but he’s watching from above. Tell them about every prank we played. How we tormented Professor McGonagall-,”

"Fred I don’t know how I’m supposed to do that without you, everything will be so different. Christmas will be so different,” George cried, tears streaming down his heated cheeks.

"Yes it will, but I'll be there, you won't see me but I will be there. I will in sit next to you and watch you attempt mums sprouts even though you hate them, I'll watch you play board games and watch Ron go red and angry after he looses another game to Ginny. I’ll be there with you always,” Tears rolled more frequently down Fred’s face now, as he attempted to stop them with his jumper.

“You were supposed to be my best man, you were supposed to help me annoy Percy, you were supposed to- you were supposed to be here Fred!” George began to get frustrated.

“Oi oi now, it’s okay, I will always be your best man. Even if I’m not standing next to you at the alter physically,or God I don’t know when you buy your first couch. I will be with you spiritually. I mean I think that’s how this shit works,” The silly red head jokes.

“Please don’t ever leave me, I can’t do this without you. Your my best friend.”

"Hey, who says your going through this alone? I will be here for you always. That’s why I came back. One last time, just to ease your mind. Plus I couldn’t just leave you without a proper goodbye could I now?” Fred says winking before a sob breaks out between the two.

"So please, for me. Go and remind mum that your still here, tell dad he’s not alone. Go into Ginny and hug her, she really really needs you. Tell Ron that it’s okay to let others in. He doesn’t feel like he can talk to anyone. As for the others, tell them to come down. Mum needs to see them. She misses us so much,” George took in the word ‘us’ before breaking down again.

The twins embraced into a hug. Wanting to stay there forever.

“Oh and George?”

“Yes,”

“I love you, please don’t give up. Also never forget me or I will haunt your ass.

“Don’t be stupid Freddie, I love you so much. Never leave me.

They embrace into a hug yet this time so tight, they couldn't breathe. Reminiscing every moment together before their departing.

“George, I have to go now. You need to let me go,”Fred sobbed.

“I can’t Freddie, I can’t leave you,”

“You need to, my body is cold. You need you to move on,”

“Just five minutes more?” George questioned.

“Five minutes more,” Fred rested his head onto George’s shoulder, crying into it.

Five minutes had passed.

“Right time for me to get back. I love you so much” Fred let go of the warm embrace.

“Fred I’m scared,”

"I know you are, I am too. But I'll be waiting right here for you when your time comes. I will be right here to welcome you back, until we meet again brother." Fred says a tear escaping his eyes. Holding each other as if the earth was about to explode, George jolted awake.

"Freddie!" George exclaims shooting his hand out and sitting up abruptly. Scanning the empty room his breathing begins to slow down as he rests his hand upon his fast heartbeat. Fuck he mutters running his cold hands through his hair. He had felt a dampness on his shoulder. The whole experience felt so real. Maybe it was. Either way it had felt it.

Getting up from his bed, inhaling and exhaling, George opens the door for the first time in three weeks. He was so normal to smelling his mothers Scouse ready in a pot, hearing Ron muttering 'bloody hell' to himself after messing something up, his father rambling about Muggles obsessing over the purpose of a tennis ball. He was used to Fred coming upstairs with more supplies for their joke shop. Instead was an immediate cold draft and deadly silence. For a split second, the desire to crawl back into his bed, shutting out the outside world and crying into his pillow for the rest of his life, was such a convincing idea George’s hand rested upon the door nob. A faint familiar voice creeps into his head.

‘You need to let me go’ Fred’s voice had creeped into his mind. And with that, George had let go of the door nob and began to make his way downstairs. Walking downstairs taking in every little detail that he didn’t realise before. Not coming out of his room hardly for three months had really shocked him of how isolated from reality he could be strung into. He scanned the kitchen spotting Molly who was stood by the oven, her hands just resting upon the surface and her head is dropped and a few tears splash against the chopping board. Without warning George's large arms wrapped around Molly mid-waist. She had jumped slightly, startled by the sudden act of affection which broke George's heart even more.

“It’s okay, someday we will be with him,” Fred says settling his head onto Mollys shoulders, a choked cry coming from Molly.

The Weasley family, or what was left, had tried their best to act normal. George had helped Molly with the tea, not speaking much yet. But for the first time in three months, the ache in his heart began to feel less sore. That night, Molly, Arthur, Fred, Ron and Ginny all reunited for a pot of Scouse; chatted a little, laughed a little, cried a little. Most importantly things began to become more normal. Realising about how isolated the family had became, they had decided the best thing to do was to remind themselves that Fred would hate this divide.

After tea, Fred went upstairs to spend some time with his siblings. He had knocked to enter Ginnys room. She was sat writing in her journal already crying. He had asked what the matter was, asking what she had written in her journal. She passed her journal to him after two minutes.

“I just feel like, I’ve lost all my brothers. And it’s the worst feeling ever. I miss you all so much. I miss Ron telling me to go away, I miss George annoying me, I miss Charlie and Bill telling me about their crazy adventures. I miss Fred, I miss him so much. I just want my brothers back” Fred read, tears falling onto the page. Looking back up towards a fragile Ginny Fred replied.

“I know what you feel like, I miss them too especially Fred. It hurts so much. But you will never loose me and you haven’t lost Fred. This pain, is just temporary. Okay?” The red headed siblings engulf into a hug for the first proper time in three months. Following was another knock at the door, entering a sniffling Ron who ran over to them, dropped to his knees and embraced into the hug. Fred turned to him.

“You can’t shut people out forever. It’s time for us to move on. It’s time to let go. We will see him again. Someday we’re going to be with him,” Fred comforted, holding back his own painful tears. They had spent the whole night talking about him one last time for a while, reminiscing about the best memories before letting go. Ready to move on. Not forgetting Fred, no not at all. But more for their own sake, for Fred’s sake.

After leaving Ginnys room, George fell onto his bed. Crying a little more, he reminded himself of what he had said to the others. ‘It's okay I know someday I'm going to be with you,' He thought to himself before he fell into another deep sleep until morning.

I WROTE THIS ON WATTPAD ASWELL BUT IT BELONGS ON TUMBLR AND I MADE IT BETTER. also this was the most heartbreakign thing i’ve ever wrote my heart HURTS. please send feedback bc i would love to hear any suggestions or comments:)

[rejectofsociety]

Febuwhump: Day Eight

Prompt: “Hey, Hey, This Is No Time To Sleep

Summary: On the Endgame battlefield, Peter finds himself overwhelmed by outriders and some heroes swoop in to (hopefully) save his life.

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Word Count: 1,877

Written for: @febuwhump

✧༺✦✮✦༻∞　　∞༺✦✮✦༻✧

The outriders tore at Peter’s suit, their claws digging underneath the plates of armor to rip at his flesh. His extra, steel limbs formed a cage around him, but they only protected him for a brief moment before getting torn off effortlessly. The alien screeches rang in his ears and made his bones quiver. Too overwhelmed by the dog pile of aliens on top of him to fight or even move, Peter could only curl up in a tight ball with his arms hiding his vulnerable head as much as possible. Tears of terror streamed down his cheeks and his lungs frantically drew in and released breaths of dust-polluted air as he hyperventilated helplessly. Claustrophobia engulfed his body as all he could feel was thousands of pounds of outrider bodies smashed against him and their talons and teeth tearing away at him ravenously. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but fierce claws slashed across his face and the next thing he knew, his vision was blurred by his own blood in his eyes and his head was spinning. He coughed and choked as the world began to disappear around him. He felt as though he were falling endlessly into a pit of darkness, with nothing but the sounds of alien screams to accompany him. The little spider’s heart thundered in fear, then shifted into nauseating palpitations that only added to his lightheadedness.

Then, everything went dark.

“Hey!” Steve called to anyone who was listening, “those outriders, what do they have?!”

Sam swooped down to get a better view and fired his guns repeatedly at the outriders that hunched over a bloody lump like dogs feeding on roadkill. Too absorbed in their snack to notice the bullets, the outriders ignored Sam as if he were a bothersome fly.

“A little help!” He barked the request.

A blast of energy sped past the Falcon and pummeled into the pile of aliens. Everything the energy touch was instantly sent to hell, and Sam only got a brief glance at the alien’s chew toy before Carol swiftly swept it into her arms.

“What is it?” Sam asked, flying high in the sky to meet her.

She looked down at the bloody lump in her arms and her entire face went ghostly pale as her eyes widened. He opened his mouth to nervously repeat his question, only to be interrupted as she sped away to a small, hidden cave created by the ruins of Avengers Compound. Sam raced after her, his heart pounding in his throat anxiously. Don’t be Bucky, please don’t be Bucky. I fucking swear- his mind desperately rambled.

He stumbled to a landing inside the cavern where Carol was hunched over a body with her hands desperately clasped over a wound on their neck. Sam hurried to her side and looked down at the bloodied body. His stomach lurched at the sight, and he only recognized the Spiderman from the small bits of sleek, red, armor clinging to his smallish stature.

“Oh shit,” Sam spat under his breath and immediately knelt down beside Carol and clasped his hands over another wound.

The boy’s face was sabotaged with deep claw marks, one going right through his left eye while his sides were shredded with holes and tears were teeth and talons had met in a desperate effort to consume him. Sam grimaced as his hands were rapidly coated with warm, thick blood yet he refused to budge. Did he believe that he and Carol could save this kid with only their hands? Absolutely not. But for fuck’s sake they had to try. Peter had so much life left to live, he shouldn’t have been out on a battlefield and fighting aliens. He should have been with his family, comfortable and safe and not worrying about if he would survive the next five seconds.

Sam knew nothing of this kid, but in that moment he couldn’t help but be filled with fury. If this boy died, his blood would be on Tony’s hands and Sam wouldn’t let him forget it for a second. It would stain Tony’s skin for the rest of his life because it was Tony who recruited a fucking fourteen year old child to battle full grown adults. And why? Why a child when he had a list of potential heroes that he could pull out at any given moment just by asking an artificial voice in the ceiling? It was because Peter was young, eager, maybe even a little scared. He was all too easy to manipulate and blackmail into getting on Tony’s side of a war he didn’t understand. He still didn’t know what he had been fighting for.

Sam was yanked out of his thoughts as Valkyrie landed at the cavern’s entrance on her Pegasus and Steve slid off the creature’s back. The captain rushed across the cave to meet the two others who kept their eyes glued to Peter.

Steve’s heart sank at the sight and he knelt by the boy’s head. No one could bring themselves to speak, it almost seemed like they were afraid that by speaking they would hurt Peter further. Of course, they had to say something sooner than later.

“He’s breathing,” Carol quietly observed, “...just barely.”

Steve rested one hand on the side of Peter’s face gingerly, “kid, I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t realize how young he is,” Sam observed through gritted teeth, “Stark’s gonna get an earful when this is all over.”

Peter whimpered softly in agony, all though he truly wanted to scream endlessly until his lungs gave out. Every nerve in his body was on fire to the point he almost passed out the moment he regained consciousness.

“Peter?” Carol called, “can you hear us?”

“I...” he barely managed to wheeze out, his voice so weak that it could hardly be heard.

His eyes began flickering closed once more and Sam’s heart skipped a beat frantically, he could practically see the boy’s life slipping away. It was slipping away right through his fingers— almost literally, seeing as their was all too much blood escaping his clasped hands— and he found himself thinking: I can’t let him die. I can’t lose this kid. This was only his second encounter with the spiderling, but he was already determined to protect him from any harm.

“Hey,” he snapped, yet his tone was gentle, “hey, this is no time to sleep. Stay awake, Spidey.”

“Y...yessir,” Peter croaked out.

Valkyrie jogged over, suddenly realizing how concerned she was. Steve had honestly forgotten she was there.

“Let me take a look at him,” she demanded.

Sam and Carol both scooted out her way as much as they could without taking their hands away from Peter’s wounds. Valkyrie sat on her knees and examined each gaping wound, forcing herself not to flinch away— every time she thought she had laid eyes on the worst of it, she’d look a little to the left or the right, up or down, and something worse would meet her gaze.

She tore her eyes away from the boy, then her eyes trailed to meet Carol.

“You have magic hands, don’t you?” She recalled.

“Yes,” Carol replied, “I’m Carol.”

“How much control do you have over your hands?”

“Enough.”

“Can you warm your hands up just enough so that they burn him?” She requested.

Carol raised her eyebrows, “good thinking.”

“What are you thinking?” Steve asked.

“By burning his flesh, the bleeding will slow down,” Sam explained then looked back at Carol, “please hurry.”

She nodded then sprawled her hands across the wound on his neck, gradually heating up her hands while also being careful not to blast the boy. Peter’s expression began to twist into one of dreadful agony as the burning heat seared his flesh. Steve and Valkyrie’s hands snapped over his body, holding him down as he screamed between gritted teeth. His muscles tensed against their grip and his body trashed reflexively.

Carol worked swiftly and seamlessly, doing her best to drown out Peter’s cries as she wished there was a way she could save him without hurting him like this. Steve muttered to Peter, telling him he was strong, saying he would be okay, anything he could think of to comfort him. The spider continued to cry out and trash until his body completely gave up and went limp with exhaustion. Not long after, Carol finished up her work and sighed heavily with her hands coated in crimson blood.

“Has anyone seen Peter?” Tony asked through Steve’s earpiece, his voice tight with anxiety.

“Yeah,” Steve replied, “he’s with me.”

“Thank fucking goodness,” he sighed in relief, “I’m coming over.”

“He got beat pretty bad,” Steve warned, “but please come over.”

The four heroes exchanged anxious glances as they listened to Peter’s hoarse breathing. Carol’s hands rested on Peter’s arm, Steve kept one on his shoulder, Valkyrie’s gently played with his matted hair, and Sam lightly touched his other shoulder. It was like they were so terrified of loosing him, they physically refused to let go of him. Peter didn’t mind in the slightest. Even has he clung to consciousness ever so desperately, he could feel the people around him and that was the only comfort he needed.

Tony clumsily landed in the cavern soon enough. He raced to Peter’s side and the small group scooted away for him. Sam grit his teeth, but forced himself to fight back any comments.

“Oh shit, kid, I-“ Tony held one of Peter’s hands in his, his entire body trembling with anxiety.

“Is okay...” Peter grunted, “M’sser Stark, ‘m okay.”

The hoarseness of Peter’s weak voice only frightened Tony further, “god, Peter. This is all my fault, I-“

“We can’t keep him here,” Valkyrie interrupted upon hearing an explosion outside.

“Y-you’re right,” Tony nodded and the others agreed.

“I can take him away from here,” she offered, “there’s room on my Pegasus.”

“That’s so cool,” Peter mumbled, still hardly conscious.

Sam smiled down at him then looked back at Valkyrie, “please take care of him.”

Soon, Peter was gingerly placed on Valkyrie’s Pegasus and she carefully transported him as far away from the war as she could. When she flew through the thick of the battlefield, Sam, Carol, and Tony accompanied her, keeping the enemies at bay.

Tony’s anxieties were rocketed high into the air without Peter in his sight. He needed to see him, was he okay? Was he still alive? Had he reached safety yet? Tony needed to see him, he just had to. He needed to ask FRIDAY if his heart was still beating and watch the AI display his heart rate and assure him it beat steadily. He needed to watch Peter breath in fresh air and watch his mouth move when he spoke. He needed to hear his horrible jokes and-

“Tony, look out!” Strange cried before shielding Tony from an aerial attack, “stay focused!”

“Right, right,” he shook his head, as if shaking Peter out of his thoughts, “sorry.”

Strange had already seen this all. He knew what happened to Peter, and he wasn’t worried about whether he would live or die— he already knew the answer. Part of him wished he could tell Tony how it would play out, but the rest of him knew that was against the rules. If he stated the future, it wouldn’t happen and there was only one way to win, regardless of casualties...

[thistangledbrain]

Day 19 & 20!

Day 19 - “I hate it when...”

As you’ve gleaned from prior posts, I hate it when you forget autism is a developmental disorder and not an intellectual one. We are so. Fucking. Tired. Of being treated as lesser, or like we don’t understand what you’re saying to us.

Outside of the reactions to others’ behavior, though, I have some personal “I hate it when”...I’ve let you into my mind and told you what I appreciate about how my brain works, but there are things I don’t like, for sure.

I hate that personal stressor things trigger a toddler-like need to SHUT DOWN. Like writing this blog, for example...the vulnerability I feel usually leads to a need to go to sleep for a long time, once I’m finished. Or after a long day socializing. I don’t want to talk to anyone, I don’t want to engage my brain anymore, I just need to shut all systems down and sleep. Especially if there’s been a meltdown (meltdown—->shutdown)...and oh boy do I hate meltdowns. They’re really rare, thank dog.

I hate that my executive function is an absolute bag of ass. This is probably the biggest thing I would change. It got infinitely worse when my disability got bad (EDS), for some reason. And it drives me up the damn wall.

I hate my low function days/moments. It’s like my brain just won’t kick into gear, or the gears and wheels are rusty and grinding, & it’s rather anxiety inducing. I usually “hide” on my low days, sometimes in my darkened bedroom, and watch favorite shows or movies, or get lost in a good book - if I can. On low days I find myself re-reading crap constantly because it’s not making any sense, so I’ll even avoid complicated recipes...I have no idea why these days/moments happen, but boy do they piss me off/make me anxious (that’s kind of the same thing for me. My anxiety nearly always manifests as anger). On my low days, you’ll see (if you were a fly on the wall, because I suppress this even around my own family), me walking in tight, anxious figure 8’s and flapping my hands in a distressed way, as I anxiously try to mentally kick my brain into gear. (It doesn’t work, but it IS a little soothing. And my dogs are SO sweet...they gather around me tightly and just seem to know I need them.)

🤷🏻‍♀️ There’s probably more I could expound on that I don’t like, but writing this one has been pretty distasteful. I try not to dwell on things I hate anymore, so I’ve put this entry down multiple times and come back to it when I’m in a decent frame of mind. I think I’m tired of talking about it now, so I’m gonna just stop talking.....

Which is a good segue into Day 20 -

————————————-

“Communication”

Ahh communication. This entry will be long, because I have a lot to communicate LOL....

Personally, I write far more coherently and eloquently than I speak. My brain goes too fast...I often trip over words; my brain’s three steps ahead of what’s coming out of my mouth and I get scrambled sometimes. I can also take the time to think about what I want to say/HOW I want to say it. Like many autistics, I’m a blurter. LOL...I am constantly trying to remind myself, just because I think it, doesn’t mean I have to say it. This gets a LOT of us in trouble...one of my most memorable examples is, I *loudly* blurted “that’s BULLSHIT!!” in a church one time. (I was speaking on how my devout Methodist grandmother, who regularly takes communion at her church, was not permitted to receive communion in a Catholic church, merely because she isn’t Catholic, despite the fact that this woman is all about some Jesus & a devoted churchgoer - not just on Easter and Christmas.) In my defense, it WAS (IS) bullshit. I just didn’t need to practically yell that in church. As you can imagine, it was like a needle scratching across a record & everyone turned to stare. (My poor husband rescued me.) 🤦🏻‍♀️ Sigh. It’s a good idea to keep me out of most church services.

I am rather famous (infamous?) for calling bullshit straight to someone’s face, BLUNTLY. It’s out of my mouth before my brain’s “tact gatekeeper” I’ve spent over a decade trying to train is even half awake at his post (it’s a him because my husband is the one who taught me how to use tact in the first place. And it’s a him because said “gatekeeper” is lazy and falls asleep on the job all the time 😆). Have you ever just blurted your honest thoughts and heard shocked gasps or someone just busts out laughing? Yeah. That happens to me regularly. Or uncomfortable chuckles and someone will blink a few times and say, “oohhhkay, well, you could said that a different way.” (My old response to that was, I’m not responsible for what your reaction is to what I say...you’re in charge of your own feelings. I *understand* now how irresponsible and unfeeling that is, and I try to keep that in the front of my mind, even when I’m frustrated and nearly burning up with the desire to speak my thoughts in their raw form, but this is routinely an area I struggle to adapt to...and I am very sorry when I hurt someone I care about.)

On the other side of this same coin though, this is a trait my friends respect deeply, because I’m not cruel hearted or anything. You always know where you stand with me, and I’m the last person to try and lie to you. I SUUUUUCK at lying. And on the rare times when I do, I usually end up eventually telling on myself (this drove my older stepsister NUTS when we were kids, because she liked to do lots of sneaky things, and I don’t have an inherently sneaky nature LOL...so “DO NOT tell momma” was a *serious* risk for her, if she let me tag along 😂). Lying to someone just feels disgusting. Oily. Shameful. I hate lying. Plus, my short term memory is a grabasstic bag of CRAP, so there’s a good chance I won’t remember the lie and get caught anyway. 🤷🏻‍♀️ My boys also suck at lying or hiding stuff, and generally prefer not to...but I also give them a safe forum to be honest. (I’m sure there’s LOTS of crap I don’t know, but you’d be surprised how much they DO tell me.)

Another thing with me personally is that I go mute sometimes. I’m not being deliberately obstinate. I’m not REFUSING to speak in those moments...sometimes I literally can’t, and the effort of doing so will make me gag, or even projectile vomit. Sounds very dramatic, doesn’t it? It is. (And it annoys the SHIT out of me.) There’s not a fucking thing i can do about it. The movement of my tongue in my mouth will literally begin to trigger my gag reflex, and if I try to power through it, I’m rewarded with my lunch returning to the surface anyway, regardless of my desires, and sometimes rather unexpectedly & violently. USUALLY this happens when I’m uber stressed, but sometimes it seems kind of out of the blue & catches even me off guard. If this happens but I still have something to say, I start texting instead, and explain. Most people - especially my hubby - are very kind when this happens. (I don’t want your pity, I just want you to switch to written communication for a minute until I can figuratively kick the fuck out of the engine in my “speaking center” and get it to work again.) Other times, I will literally get tired of talking. Like my mouth and tongue - and somehow, the “word forming” part of my brain feels physically exhausted (weird, I know, but I also spend the vast majority of my life silent - I am home alone all day, hate talking on the phone, and simply don’t speak much, by choice. So maybe it is actual “mouth fatigue” 😂😂😂 - I’ve stopped eating before because I just got tired of chewing, too, even though I’m still somewhat hungry. 🙄) I am usually *perfectly* happy to keep listening! And I’ll stay engaged in the conversation usually. I am just...done audibly talking. I’ll literally say “my mouth is tired of making the sounds now, but please keep going”...but I think my husband is the only one who doesn’t find this unusual, and rolls with it. It usually happens after a long, animated conversation...instead of winding down, though, it just..stops. If I try to keep going, cue the gagging. I can stay engaged in the conversation if you let me start writing/typing instead of speaking, for my responses. So that’s a “fun” little trait of mine that many neurotypicals find unsettling. Please don’t take it personally. My mouth just doesn’t want to make the words anymore - and I’m probably mostly done adding what I needed to add to the conversation anyway. I’m a great listener when this happens, though. 😆

Communication is a really interesting thing with all of us, because it’s a struggle on one level or another. I will tell you, it’s a frequent topic in my groups. “WHY CAN’T NEUROTYPICALS JUST SAY WHAT THE FUCK THEY MEAN?!?! 😩😩😩” I’m dead serious - you might think, because we’re sensitive (generally), we can’t “handle” it? You’d be so very wrong. What we can’t handle is when you dance around a subject or we have to try and translate what you just said to us (which most of us are not that good at). Just fucking say it! Nine times out of ten, you’ll just get a look of dawning realization and a “oh, shit, okay” response. We can handle it. Just. Say. It. We’ll respect you a lot more in the morning, LOL 😆

I think every autistic has some sort of beef with neurotypicals when it comes to communication (as I’m sure you have yours with us, obviously).

You guys operate under some weird ass rules that we simply don’t understand - especially if you don’t tell us those rules & just expect us to know. Like, if my husband hadn’t patiently taken years to show/teach me how the way I said certain things were hurtful, I would still be in the “yeah she’s cool but she’s kind of an asshole” territory. (I still struggle to grasp this, or at least it still frustrates me....truth is truth, whether it’s an ironclad general fact or your own personal truth - and yes sometimes the truth hurts, but like...I don’t pin any responsibly for that on the truth teller, if that makes sense?)

Working in rescue also helped hone my ability to speak “neurotypically” to others - I work with a LOT of women, and boy do a lot of them NOT appreciate when you bluntly tell them what you think. Men on the other hand....

I know *lots* of autistic women who prefer friendships with men, largely centering around this communication thing. We hurt men’s feelings a little less regularly than other women’s. I know I was like that, until I got a little more used to how I have to modify my communication with most women (but that annoys me, I’m gonna be honest - it annoys my Autie friends, too). The only time I am as starkly blunt as I used to be, is when speaking to my female Autie friends (because they can handle it), or most of the dudes I’m friends with. But if my message is getting “lost in the sauce” and you’re not getting my point, I usually give a frustrated sigh, WARN you that I’m about to tell you flatly what I need to say, because we aren’t getting anywhere, and just say it.

Yes I am the friend who, when you gush on and on about your new back yard bred puppy, talking all about how you’re gonna breed him when he grows up, is gonna flatly say “he’s not breeding quality”, if they’re not. Then I’m gonna ask you why you want to do such a thing, given that you’re aware of the massive load of rescue dogs (PARTICULARLY Great Danes and Cane Corsos) - and probably beat your argument down every step of the way. That doesn’t always go badly though - one of my closest friends was considering breeding their dog, and while it was a beautiful dog, it was not one that should reproduce (from an “improve the breed” perspective). We barely knew each other, but I gained a reputation for being kind but starkly honest...and I knew what I was talking about...and now I have this person’s deep respect, and they have mine (because they listened and did the research I asked them to - and did not add to the breed population). So it’s not *always* a trainwreck, because the people who end up respecting how I communicate, usually end up VERY close friends. AND I WANT THAT IN RETURN, which is refreshing for a LOT of people. I want your dead honesty in return - PLEASE. It’s so much easier for me to process and accept. For example, my house is almost constantly in some sort of disarray. I have one friend who will come in and go, “girl. I almost can’t breathe in here - this clutter is too much”(and then she offers to help me tackle it!!).

Or, fairly recently, “oh my god those curtains are so horrible, I hope you’re getting rid of those when you redo this room.”

“But I MADE those curtains! I love that print!”

“Ugh. No. They’re terrible. Get rid of them.”

My feelings were not hurt in the LEAST (I of course had a flash of “you bitch, I was so excited to find that print and I MADE THOSE, ya jerk” 😂). At first I said, “well you’re just gonna have to suck it up and deal with my shitty curtains, because I like them” 😂, but then as I was redoing the room, I took them down...and it DID look a lot better, so I left them down 😂😂😂....

So I guess my point with all this is: every autie I know deeply wishes you’d just fucking spit it out. We WILL often miss or misinterpret the point if you “fluff” it too much (around my neck of the woods, we call it putting too much gild on the lily, though I’ve never understood that one. Idk if a “gilded lily” is/was ever a thing, why anyone would gild a lily in the first place...LOTS of us struggle with colloquialisms that don’t make literal sense. 😆 Recently a friend was baffled over “shit in one hand and wish in the other and see which fills up faster”, and fully half of the respondents to her post were people baffled by why anyone would shit in their hand - I and a couple others had to explain, and it just ended with them going “well that’s a fucking stupid saying anyway, and wishes aren’t things you can put in your hands, either” 😂😂😂...but I’m from the south, and these things are just part of our vocab. MOST of them are easy to grasp for me, like “nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs”, because I immediately picture it and can grasp the meaning. But others I don’t get - the gilded lily is one LOL)...

We are LITERAL AS FUCK. It’s why we ruin lots of jokes, too. My poor husband is the dad joke king - and I ruin fully 1/3 or more of his jokes by being too literal (which he also finds amusing, so that’s good). Sometimes we realize we’re ruining the joke but we don’t care, because it’s dumb, or we just .... can’t....HELP IT. 😩😂

Jeez, I could almost write all day about autistics and communication LOL!!

But to summarize (and not succinctly, sorry), I guess, for me and many many others...we are often blunt, direct, almost painfully honest, and very, very literal. Your unspoken rules of communication absolutely go over our heads, unless you - yannow - *communicate* and explain them. We’ll probably tell you those rules are stupid and exhausting, but we will TRY and stick to it as best we can. But see, we literally have to think about every single word that comes out of our mouths, because we communicate far more directly than you weird fuckers do. And it is literally actually exhausting. It’s not an easily natural thing for us to adapt to, your weird way of saying things but not saying what you really mean. You’re wasting a LOT of words there, sir, and we are now getting obsessively confused over why you would do such a thing. 😂 It’s also why I keep getting banned from Facebook. My recent one was because I said - in one of my Autie “safe” groups, where I should be able to just say what I mean - that I tend to punch or want to punch people who deliberately startle the shit out of me. We were talking about how stupid April Fool’s Day was, and how we hate pranks. Three of us got banned for 30 days for just...well. Facebook called it “incitement of violence”. 🙄🥺🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼🖕🏼

But I haven’t met - yet, maybe? - an autistic person who is cruel natured - not one of us gets any joy from being a bully type. WE feel everything on a higher level, so we kind of assume you do, too...you might think, “then why are you such an asshole?!”, but it’s simply that we - or every Autie I know, anyway - struggle to grasp how directly communicating your feelings is so fuckin hard or hurtful for y’all. I think anyone struggles to grasp something they themselves don’t experience. All you have to do is explain, though, and keep guiding us towards communicating in ways that we both find acceptable. I mean we’re champs at accepting all manner of different human - regardless of race, sexuality, and so on - but the communication is one area that frustrates the ever loving SHIT out of most of us, because it makes so little logical sense why anyone would say a bunch of useless words that muddy up their intent.

My closing advice? Help Your Pet Autie ™️ (this is absolutely a tongue in cheek term btw) understand how you’d like to be communicated with, and guide us. BE SPECIFIC for fucks sake - we suck at guessing what you might want, and it’s so frustrating that we’ll often just stop communicating at all. Instead of saying “it hurts me when you say this”, try saying “the WAY you said this hurt my feelings because of ____. Maybe you could put it like this instead” (or, “you know, you should really just keep shit like that to yourself”) and *give examples*. Don’t expect us to come up with different ways of saying shit, because we don’t understand what it is specifically you want, and it’s not very logical, therefore it’s not “natural” for us. Plus, everyone is different. I can’t talk to one of my sons the same way I can talk to the other, without certain negative reactions. Give us a chance to know your needs - we DO CARE!!! - but be CLEAR. I know in your world, tact is a big deal, but MOST of us will miss the fucking point if you’re too tactful (and when we misinterpret, we always err on the side of worst case scenario, and make the issue wayyyyy bigger than it should be. Being clear is soooo important).

And hey. Maybe it’ll help clear up some communication in other areas of your life. Being clear isn’t a license to be a fucking asshole; nobody’s giving you a license to unleash on everyone about how much you can’t stand humans...if WE hafta be quiet about that, so do you lmao...fair’s fair. 😆 But quit hedging and hinting and hoping we will pick up on the whatever your grievance is - because we won’t. We’ll just know you’re unhappy, and start panicking over guessing what we did wrong, and just shut down, because we have no idea.

Just. Fucking. Say it. 😘

[marshmallowprotection]

I am so lost it’s not even funny

After finally menaging to get my mother to get me to see a psy, we went to the first seance this morning.

I’ve learned stuff I wasn’t aware of (like, I wasn’t actually wanted until she actually had me but I guess, okay, that J was S’s twin-sister and not my oldest sister’s, C, etc) and remembered stuff I forgot (I threatened suicide when I had problems with my genitor again during a week-end & actually tried because I was just that miserable, well you know the drill). I answer all the questions seriously, even questions like ‘how do you feel about school’ and stuff, EVEN in front of my mother which I never do because I legitimately feel scared at the idea of doing so given how she reacts to stuff, usually.

So like, that was useful. And my mother didn’t show any sign of being annoyed, or mad, or anything during the session. Which, was surprising, but okay. I’m willing to accept it.

Then we got out, and she was considerably colder. I asked her if she was okay, she said yes, then changed the subject. (I clearly saw that she wasn’t doing well, and we had a convo about the fact that we aren’t honest with each other, her being the first person to say that she isn’t honest with me because I’m not. Spoiler: I was honest during the session, she wasn’t with me afterwards. So like, fuck it I guess.)

Stuff goes okay afterwards though I was scared shitless in the caf, we come back home, there’s her boyfriend awake this time, so I feel safer. Because she’s the kind of people to never show others what happens with me and her when it’s negative (her insulting me, gaslighting me, you named it), so I knew that with him around I was safe. (Besides I had talked to him about how my mother was in those times, so he had some ideas of what happened. He even told me to not hesitate sending him a sign if my mother went batshit crazy at me again, so that’s a plus.)

Then the afternoon rolls by, she goes to horse-ride like she always does on this day, and when she comes back she’s still cold towards me and I now felt bad and unsafe again, because by then her boyfriend had went to work.

And you named it, she ask to talk with me, which I accept (while still being terribly scared by it). And she basically gets mad at me because I was honest in therapy session (saying I didn’t like school, that I missed my old friends, that even if my last school was shit I was still attached to it) and even used against me the fact that we’ve talked thursday and that ‘things seemed to be better.’ Better when there was still all the things she’s said and done to me those past years, as though a small conversation could make things ‘normal’ again (normal is a bad thing to say because with her normal is her being okayish most of the times and having bad crisis but I don’t have any other term).

She used against me the fact that I don’t trust her enough to say everything, and that there’s someone else I trust better. My best friend. He fucking saved me times and times again, when I tried to kill myself he’s the one who helped me not to do it, he always listens to me when I need it, he never tells me ‘but I’m not okay either you know!’ when I talk about how I feel, he’s the person I love the most on this entire world and she can’t stop criticizing him, always putting all the blame on him, saying that he’s the reason I’m how I am, that he’s a terrible influence on me, that he makes his parents’ life’s hell when they’re not the greatest persons either, calling him by his deadname. She fucking told me that I should just stop talking to him but I could never do that, he’s just the reason I’m not dead already and the fact that she’s like that about him makes me miserable. He’s such a wonderful guy I just can’t imagine a world where I wouldn’t be friends with him. We’ve had our couple downsides sure, but not only on his part, I was an asshole too and he never hated me for it.

And after she fucking left to the bathroom and when I followed her she just started to cry and kept blaming me. She compared me to someone else AGAIN, C, my oldest sister, by saying that she ‘didn’t want it to happen again’ after telling me that I had the right to be my own person with my own personality.

I don’t even look like her that much so who do I look like most? My fucking genitor, and she hates him. So does that mean she hates me too? Will I never be my own person? Will I forever be stuck in someone else’s shadow?

I feel like I’m hated and loved, hated because I look like him, loved because of J, as always, and this never ending combination of ‘I love you’ and ‘I hate you, you disgust me’ is just killing me. I don’t even know what I should feel towards myself, should I love, or hate myself? Should I just destroy that fucking body she hates so much? Why is she never satisfied with me?

I don’t even know how I should feel towards her anymore either. Does she love me? She’s put on hold years of her life to take care of me, gives me food and a bed, sends me to a private school. Does she hate me? I never feel like I’m enough for her, that I disgust her, that she feels annoyed at the idea of having to give things to me. Does she really means her ‘I love you’s’? Are the nicknames she gives me a real thing, or just a fucking make-believe shit?

I don’t even know what to do anymore

She said again that she would rather die because her place wasn’t here. It’s been 22 years since J’s death and she still thinks she would prefer going to a person I don’t even fucking know or care about rather than staying with me, so what does that mean? What does that mean for me?

She’s not even thinking about her boyfriend, my other sisters, no one. 22 years for fuck’s sake. And she’s still the most important thing in her life? Just fuck myself then I guess!

I’m genuinely not okay and I don’t know what to do anymore

TW: Depression, Self-Harm, Suicide 

I think the most important thing that you should know is that you’re a kid and it is not your job to fix anything. You don’t have to keep everything together. That’s not for you to do. The adult in your life and the people around you are the ones that are supposed to ensure that you are safe, warm, and okay, no matter what happens. You are not the one at fault. You never were. She’s the one that is at fault because she is blaming you for something that isn’t your fault out of her anger and grief. 

Sincerely, do not blame yourself here because you are not at fault. Do not harm yourself, either. It solves nothing, only hurts you, and pushes you into a very dark space that is hard to crawl out of without the right support system in your field to help you get by as you fight for yourself to feel better every single day because it can get better and you will feel better. It just takes time and finding the right people in your life. 

When you become an adult, you can leave and never look back at them or this relationship, you can build a new family of friends and so on and I swear to you that it will be better and it will feel better because it’s your choice. 

When it comes to your sister, she has a lot of her own problems that she needs to work on. That’s not your job. She has to do that. It’s not on you. That, even more, being said, I want you to know that your mother shouldn’t do that either, because she’s trying to manipulate you, shame you, and gaslight you with this. Do not apologize for being honest. You need to honest in therapy, and the more you are, the more help you can get. Honestly? Bring this up in therapy. If you feel in physical or emotional danger, your therapist can and will help you get out of this. 

There is no normal. Your mother just wants you to be quiet and let her do what she wants, no matter what that means. She wants to control you and use you as far as I can tell here, I’m merely guessing, but I know parents like this and this is a red flag. 

You are your own person. 

Even if your mother didn’t want you, don’t think that you shouldn’t be alive or have been born. You matter. Your existence matters. You have worth. I know it hurts, because parents are supposed to love you and care about you, and yes, this is going to be a long road for you, because learning that your parents are not holy being or inherently good takes time to unlearn. Once you realize that you’ve been abused or harmed, it takes years to accept and years to figure out what that means for you. Do you cut that person off forever? Do you accept an apology or do you try to work past it? 

It’s a personal choice, but my heart says that I would leave and not look back when I could. But, you’re still stuck in this spot for some time, even if you can get some help to get out. I sincerely implore you to talk more with the therapist and let them know what’s going on, find proof, record abuse if you can (check the recording laws, do you have a one party consent state or two party), screencap online logs, etc. 

Don’t hesitate to protect yourself. 

You don’t deserve to be mistreated or abused. Stay safe. Always remember that you are loved by your friends and even strangers! I care about you and I want you to be able to feel happy again, no matter what that takes. If you need any resources specifically for your state or area, I can try to help you find those, but the therapist can help you firsthand. 

If the emotional manipulation is this bad, it could get worse the more you try to get better for yourself. Take a deep breath. Believe in yourself. Know that you have strength. Never forget that you matter no matter what someone says about you. Your life is your own. You don’t owe them anything. Nothing. All you owe is yourself and your happiness. 

Stay strong. I’m always here.