#nightmare 39

[duranduratulsa]

Happy Birthday Freddy Krueger! A Nightmare On Elm Street was released on this day in 1984. #happybirthday #happybirthdayfreddykrueger #freddyversary #freddykrueger #freddy #robertenglund #anightmareonelmstreet #wescraven #RIPWesCraven #80s #nightmare39

[rabbitindemun]

I will never get over this fanfic..

here ya' got, some FlatDreams doodles i did, sorry if it's a little confusing, i wasn't in the whole mood to draw, but i was reading the fanfic again * sobbing * and i was CRAVING for drawing a bit of it- (and some little billy drawings because, well, he's my spiritual animal HSHAH) (btw if you have any ideas or recommendations for drawings or minicomics please let me know... I want to draw these beautiful creatures of evil and my mind is DRY-) just in case

[lookatmysillies]

Round 26 - Tallis POV

Tallis had been dreaming a lot lately.

After Round 24, he was sedated and tucked into his stiff bed so tightly it felt like a straitjacket. Whenever he woke on and off in the course of the worst night of his life, it was to hands - human hands - cradling his head. He was so out of it, he didn't know if he imagined it or not.

Before he woke from his coma to the intrusion of the tube in his throat (god, he didn't even want to think about that) he had flashes of awareness. He didn't know if he imagined those, either, and he didn't know whether he desperately needed them to be real or an illusion. He remembered hearing about kids who were always strung out on drugs, needles in their arms and legs and, in some horror stories, their eyes. Straps holding them down. Machinery positioning them like a doll. It wasn't something he'd had to deal with more than a few times at Anakt Garden, and they were very cursory tests, albeit uncomfortable.

But he felt different. He remembered them... doing things to him. Remembered strange helmets and wires on his head, unobstructed by his shaved hair; the needles and the straps. How could his brain conjure something like that up? He'd have to be crazy, and he was already scared enough that he'd gone crazy, or that this was all one long nightmare his mind created in his final moments and he had been dead on the stage of Round 7 all along with its morose lighting and ballad chords in the background, crooning tauntingly. He could practically feel the chill of the air - the weight of a coat lowering onto his body.

What made him doubt the reality of these flashes was that nothing had seemed to happen since he was taken down to that dark place. He woke up with the tubes and the IVs shoved into his body, prying eyes and alien voices surrounding him like he was some kind of spectacle, the kind of spectacle you never were on the stage. They sedated him whenever he panicked. They gave him some daily shots. Comparatively, that seemed relatively standard. The worst of it all was having to be hooked up to those fucking electrodes and watch his most beloved companions fight for their lives.

During his sedation in the aftermath of Himei's... round... and between the brief sensations of human connection (and he knew he was safe when Eddy was there, because it could be no one but Eddy, and Eddy watched over him. They were no saint or savior, working for these wretched creatures, but they watched over him. They didn't hurt him) Tallis dreamt. He dreamt of sitting in a transparent, empty pod, and seeing a small girl in a pod across from him whom Tallis instantly recognized as a human, like him. A real human. Her pod was filled with trinkets, little toys and luxuries Tallis had never seen before. He remembered crawling closer and pressing his face against the glass to see the soft little toy she held in her richly dark hands, darker than his, different but the same, pretty. She had splotches of lighter skin here and there, but her hands were dark, and he remembered her hands maybe more than her face in that moment from watching them so intently. She smiled at him timidly. He didn't know how to smile back. He just smushed his hands against the container as hard as he could.

He dreamt of a girl with dark, wavy hair, gentle eyes, a bright smile. For some reason, she picked him, a scrawny boy with average looks, messy hair and premature worry lines, out of a crowd of children who looked like stars even from a young age. She picked him talentless and friendless from the masses, and she looked at him, smiled at him.

Tallis didn't know what to do with that, for a while. Maybe he never learned how.

They sat under Eden during their recesses and read together. She sped through books with ease, devouring each word without a second glance. He was slower, though, so she waited for him to nod his head against her shoulder to turn the page. He'd never been good like her at hurrying things. Whether it be a book, a song, a sweet-smelling breeze or the sticky molasses of emotion in his chest, it was in his nature to savor. He read every sentence twice. When a song ended, he couldn't even remember it beginning in the first place.

He dreamt of sitting by the stream with Himei. He saw wide blue eyes staring back at him from across the water, so he stood and leaned forward to get a better look. Cirrus sent something floating across the stream, and when Tallis stooped to scoop it up in his hands, he found it to be a lily pad. The petals of the lily itself were shred to bits, ruined; but an attempt had been made to position them so it might look whole. Tallis looked back up at his classmate, but they were gone. When he looked to the side, Himei was gone, too.

Tov remained where she had been sat on the other side of Himei, meeting him with a flat, steady gaze.

That was when Tallis had regained awareness and woke to Eddy wiping his face, soaked with tears, with a cloth.

They didn't say anything about it, so neither did Tallis.

He remained in bed almost constantly.

Small portions of food were all he would take. He didn't want to use the showers in the medical ward, and no one but Eddy seemed particularly interested in his hygiene. Every few days, Eddy woke him from his blissful (false) dreams of his girl, his crumpled lily, and urged him to his feet. They helped Tallis to the showers, and while he had to be monitored at all times, Eddy respectfully averted his gaze when they realized staring at his face while he was without clothes made him more than a little unsettled.

He wasn't a prude, he'd been intimate with Himei before, but that was different. It was natural for them to be without armor when they were alone together. There was a difference between their brand of intimacy and a friendly brand, and Eddy's was most definitely friendly - if even that.

If nothing else, at least they were another human.

Tallis doubted he would be sane if not for this strange, clueless, towering thing.

Fretting for Tov and grieving for Himei had come simultaneously. Himei was gone - he watched her die on live television. He watched her go out like a light and crumple to the stage floor, white suit drenched in crimson red. He felt something in his heart shift and snap loose.

Tov was still alive.

And he knew, because he knew himself and Tov was nothing if not his mirror - he knew she would lose, whether she consciously wanted to or not.

Tallis had barely any time at all before Tov was up on the chopping block. He knew she wouldn't make it. He knew he wouldn't make it.

Half of his heart was gone. He'd lived through a lot, but if the other half fell into the abyss with it, he wouldn't make it.

Eddy didn't tell him when Round 25 was. Tallis had to really press it for that information.

"Jae and Lang," Eddy murmured with sad eyes. "Tomorrow night. One of the contestant's last shows had some disruptions, so I'll be on patrol at the site that night." After a beat, they added, "They won't hook you up for this round, they're waiting for twenty-six."

Tallis mulled over that information for several long hours. When Eddy returned that night, they were a little teary, awed and downcast all at once.

"I liked her," it murmured to itself as it undid the straps on its clothes. Tallis wasn't supposed to hear - he followed Eddy, and he had particularly sensitive hearing compared to his peers.

He jerked back when he heard those words and hurried back to bed, tears stinging in the back of his throat.

He dreamt of a girl with black and white hair who fixed his harp when it broke.

Tov's round was in a matter of nights, and he could do nothing.

Oh Lang, Tallis thought tearfully through the next hopeless day, you were always good at finding solutions. Anyone could give you any problem and deem it unsolvable, and you would find a loophole within minutes. I don't have any loopholes. I don't have anything.

If a problem is meant to be solved, it'll be solved, Lang's voice intoned in the back of his mind. She always spoke about these things like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She always spoke with quiet acceptance. Is your problem meant to be solved?

It should. Tallis imagined all those wild fans roaring for Tov when she went up against Lark. It should. For her and for Himei.

Then you'll solve it.

And if only it was that simple. If only he wasn't in some high-security bunker in the middle of fucking nowhere with nothing but a medical gown to cover his bare ass and a clingy guard to - what? Feed him soup and give him sponge baths?

What's stopping you?

Wires, he whispered into the damp, empty air. Wires in my nightmares and around my arms and legs, crawling into old bullet wounds.

He could practically feel Lang roll her eyes.

Then cut the wire.

Tallis guessed he was lucky that Eddy was a Tov fan.

The little stuff was nice to see. It was comforting to see Tov in the magazines Eddy read and left on the nightstand while it went to use the restroom.

Tallis hadn't thought it would be of particular use until now, though.

With Himei and Lang's voices looping in his ears, he tore a relatively blank page out of the latest issue of the Alien Stage magazine series - nothing but advertisements for pet human enrichment items - and scrambled for something to write with. He wasn't allowed to have sharp objects, though. Eddy came back to him and recoiled at the sight of Tallis standing with their torn magazine, hurt by what they perceived as a slight.

"Eddy." Tallis stumbled to them and grabbed their shoulders. "Please give me a pen. Please. Please. Just for a few seconds, please."

"My magazine," Eddy said forlornly. "Sungmin gave me that issue."

"What? No, it's only an ad. Eddy, please, please can I..."

"Why do you need it?"

With a little pressure, Tallis convinced them to let him write his sheet music over the ads. Then he gave it to Eddy and begged them to digitize it. To send his message so Tov might have a chance.

"No, that's not..." Eddy fidgeted with the page, shaking its head. "That's not allowed, Tallis..."

"I'll owe you forever," Tallis blurted. "I'll do anything, anything you want or need, forever, as long as I'm alive! I'll be - I'll be your best friend, I'll never leave you, I'll be your human companion, just please, please, I'll never ask anything again!"

Eddy's stare was so blank for what was most likely a few long seconds, though it felt like minutes. Their one coral-colored eye grew shiny with moisture, and Tallis had a brief flash of regret tug painfully at his gut - he'd quickly learned how lonely his keeper was, and time and time again, he used it to get what he wanted. Eddy was a human too. Eddy deserved empathy.

Before he could deflate, Eddy squeezed him tight enough to knock the wind out of him, and he had no air in his lungs to backtrack.

Eddy rationalized it by saying it wasn't a code or a lettered message - it was just a song. Eddy didn't know all this song represented for Tallis and Tov. Eddy knew it was a beacon of hope for Tallis's friend, and that's what they digitized and sent to Guardian Cassio.

What did promises like "I'll never leave you" even mean when Tallis was stuck here anyway?

When Tov and Akane sang, Tallis forgot all about the helmet and the electrodes, the eyes on him from behind a thick sheet of one-sided glass.

Lark hadn't stood a chance against Tov's might, but this girl, this girl was something else. She sang low and soft, yet her voice trembled with some powerful suppressed emotion that vibrated like a plucked harp string in her core. Tallis had never known Akane well - she was older and liked to keep to herself but for her noisy companion in the next class - but he felt struck by her, in some way.

Still, nothing could overcome the strength of his emotions when Tov sang.

She reached for her high notes with outstretched hands and sparkling eyes. She fought with every inch of her small being - her soul, too big and full of light to fit in her body, burst at the seams of her skin. When she trilled out Tallis's melody, Tallis physically jolted, the brain waves on the aliens' monitors spiking. Tears streaked his cheeks, full of faded freckles from so little time spent outdoors as of late.

Tov, his guiding light, clawed her way to a tie. When the score rested at exactly 50/50, her eyes widened, the hope and sheer power in the air around her freezing.

Tallis froze right with her.

No.

A red laser dot on Himei's forehead came to mind, Min's body blocking the unjust shot, blood spraying over Himei's shocked face.

Not this.

A split screen showed Tov and Akane both, opposite and equal, as they stared in shock at the screen.

A beat passed.

Tov's number ticked up.

51.

Tallis gasped at the same moment Tov sucked in a sharp, trembling breath.

Akane's expression shifted.

Tallis's mind blanked at the fast, violent display. The crowd screamed when a shot was fired into it. Akane smiled with exhausted, muted satisfaction.

Then her head blew up on the screen, making Tallis jerk his face away.

She's alive, he thought numbly as they unhooked the wires, Eddy moving to grab his face carefully in its large, spidery hands and shake him, trying to see if there was a hint of him there in his eyes.

"She's alive," he said dumbly.

She knows I'm alive.

He crushed Eddy in the first hug he'd ever given it of his own free will and exhaled, shaky, into its shoulder.

I owe you everything.

This was one of my favorites to write!!

Tov belongs to @ivanttakethis; Noora and Lark belong to @kamersona; Cirrus belongs to @cirrusoftheclouds; Jae belongs to @kofeedoggo; Lang belongs to @pwippy; Akane belongs to @aakaneeee; Min belongs to @starry-skiez; One of Nyx's (@rockwgooglyeyes) maybe siblings is mentioned and I FEEL LIKE I CAN'T REMEMBER THE NAME SO I MADE AN EDUCATED GUESS IT'S THE ONE WHO GAVE EDDY THE MAGAZINE CORRECT ME AND I'LL EDIT IT I'M SORRY

[ivanttakethis]

End of Round 25 - Tov’s Log

Sai (?) vs. Khoi (?) -> ??? Win

————————————————————

Wren invited herself back to the hospital when Tov was released, even going so far as to insist on pushing her in the wheelchair the hospital provided.

Tov was too tired to argue against it, letting her ramble about this and that with more energy than she thought a human could have.

It was… nice.

Listening to Wren took her mind off the darker things crowding her thoughts.

As they sat outside the hospital entrance waiting for Cassio to come collect Tov, Wren reached into the pocket of her jacket and pulled out a small, midnight blue box.

“Here, this is for you.” She said, nudging the box into Tov’s hands.

“Oh, uh, thanks?” Tov inspected the box from a distance. It was soft like leather and fit snug in her palm.

On the front was a small silver latch holding the top and bottom pieces together. It looked like a jewelry box.

She hoped it wasn’t earrings. Cassio hated permanent piercings, so Tov’s ears were never pierced like some of the other students in her class.

“Well?” Wren prompted.

She frowned, looking up from the box and over at her, “Well what?”

“Open it, silly!”

Tov did not appreciate being called silly, but she opened the box anyway.

Inside was a simple silver ring with an intertwined sun and crescent moon engraved on the surface.

She gently picked the ring up to examine it closer.

“A ring?” She asked. “What for?”

“It’s my good luck charm.” Wren said. “I don’t have any use for it right now since preliminaries haven’t started yet, so I thought, why not give it to you to see if it could help for Round 26?”

Tov rolled the ring around between her fingers as she thought, letting it catch the light of the sun.

She didn’t know if she even believed in good luck, or luck at all for that matter.

But I guess it couldn’t hurt.

She slipped the ring onto her right ring finger, and it fit perfectly.

Tov chanced a sideways glance at Wren, who was watching her reaction intently.

“How did you know my ring size?”

She smiled behind her mask, and it briefly occurred to Tov that she had never seen Wren without it.

“I didn’t! I just guessed that since our hands are about the same size, our ring sizes would be similar too. Looks like I got lucky there.” She hummed, clearly pleased.

I guess you did.

“Our hands are the same size?” Came out instead.

“Yeah! Here, look.” Wren grabbed one of Tov’s hands and held it up to hers, their palms pressed flat against each other.

Oh wow…

Her and Wren’s hands weren’t just similarly sized.

They were the same size.

Even down to the length of their fingers.

A strange feeling ran through Tov.

But it was gone before she had the chance to even acknowledge it was there to begin with.

It must’ve been the side effects of the sleep medication she’d been prescribed.

The doctor — a human, oddly enough — told Tov that her poor sleep contributed to her stress and worsened the strain on her heart.

She had taken one pill each night of her hospital stay and slept dreamlessly until morning.

The medicine would be out of her system by tomorrow.

With any luck, she could get one more night of peaceful, nightmare-free rest.

Cassio pulled up to the curb in front of them and Wren pushed the wheelchair closer to the car.

“You good to stand?” She asked as she opened the passenger side door.

“I think so.” Tov nodded and slowly stood up. The hard concrete felt odd under her feet, but she remained steady and lowered herself into the seat without issue.

Wren shut the door once she was strapped in and leaned into the open window, “I guess you’ll be taking it from here, Guardian Cassio?”

Cassio smiled, “Yes dear, I’ve got it. Thank you for all of your help.”

“Yeah, thanks Wren.” Tov said quietly. She tried to smile a little, even if she couldn’t really feel it.

“No problem! Happy to help my Anakt Garden senior.” Wren’s emphasis on the word ‘senior’ wasn’t necessary or appreciated.

Tov almost wanted to take her thank you back.

Almost.

From the creasing around her eyes, Wren must’ve been absolutely beaming behind her mask.

“Good luck on your next round.” She waved as she stepped back from the curb, “You can give me the charm back after you win the season.”

———

The nightmares came back that night.

Tov was up to her ankles in cold blood, surrounded by the bodies of her dead friends and classmates.

Their eyes were all open, glassy, staring unseeingly at something overhead.

Tov looked up just in time to watch a black hole tear open the sky and swallow all of the stars.

She woke up in a cold sweat, shaking and gasping for air. Her face was wet with tears, or sweat, or both.

Thump thump thump thump thump.

Her heartbeat pounded in her ears.

She clutched at her chest, squeezing her eyes shut, and forced herself to take deep breaths.

She had to get her heart rate under control.

“Breathe, Tov.” Her hushed voice quivered. A bead of sweat rolled down the nape of her neck. “Breathe.”

Tov? Tov!

Come on, Tov. Breathe with me.

Just follow my lead, okay?

In…

Tov breathed in.

…and out.

Tov breathed out.

In…

Tov breathed in.

…and out.

Tov breathed out.

In…

Tov breathed in.

…and out.

Tov breathed out.

See? It’s working! You’re doing great, keep going.

Keep going…

Tov didn’t know how long she stayed like that, breathing in time with the voice in her head.

It sounded like a child.

Slowly her heartbeat eased, settling back into its quick, but familiar rhythm.

She couldn’t remember who the voice belonged to. They’d all changed so much since then.

And now nearly everyone who it could’ve been was dead.

Tov pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes until she saw stars, “Fuck.”

She tossed aside her sheets, too hot and damp to be comfortable, and sat on the floor with her back against the mattress frame.

The chill of the air conditioning cooled her heated skin. The alarm clock on the nightstand read 03:19am.

Round 26 was less than 48 hours away.

She’d be on that stage again.

Now it was stained with Himei’s blood too.

“You can give me the charm back after you win the season.” Wren said.

How was she supposed to win the season like this?

And if she did win, what would happen after? What was there to go back to?

Cassio? Wren? Her secret benefactor?

They were hardly a replacement for everyone she lost. Everyone that kept her going.

Keep going…

“Shut up.” She muttered into the dark.

Silence was her only answer.

She pulled her knees up to her chest and closed her eyes.

Part of Tov wished there was still someone there with her.

Someone to sit next to her and help bear the weight of all this pain and grief.

But to ask that of anyone — to inflict this torture on anyone — would be horribly selfish.

Still, some small part of her wanted it; as sick as that might be.

Maybe Alien Stage made everyone a little sick in the head.

Daiki was sick.

Whoever poisoned Lark was sick too.

Every single one of them who wanted a classmate to lose and die so their friend could live was sick. Tov included.

What was a little more sickness then?

The tablet on the nightstand pinged, its screen glowing like a beacon in the night.

Tov reached up to grab it and settled back in her spot on the floor.

A red notification bubble flashed in the top left corner of the home screen, signaling a new message in her inbox.

Tov furrowed her brows.

Who’s messaging this late?

She tapped through to view her full conversation list and saw her guardian’s name at the top.

Her brows only furrowed more.

Cassio? What are you doing up?

She tapped the screen again to open the message.

///////

TOV,

I received this message in my inbox and have been instructed to forward it to you. The priority is URGENT, however the sender and source are unknown.

I have done my due diligence prior to sending this by checking for any viruses or malware that may be embedded in the message. Thankfully I came up empty handed.

If I had to guess, this message is likely from a fan of yours.

Please read it when you have time.

I will see you for your final dress fitting later today.

- CASSIO

————————————————————

OUTGOING MESSAGE

TO: Gdn. CASSIO

TO BE RELAYED TO: Pet Human & ALNST Contestant TOV at the request of SENDER

FROM: UNKNOWN??SOURCE

Attachment: pleaseRead.lix

————————————————————

\\\\\\\

Tov was… confused, to say the least.

Why would a digital document need to be marked urgent?

Why did the sender not identify themselves or what they wanted?

Why did they hide the source of the message in the first place?

Tov knew she was a novice when it came to having fans and getting messages from them, but nothing like this had ever happened before.

She hesitated only for a moment, before curiosity won out and she clicked on the file attached to the original message.

There were no words in the file, only music notes.

Sheet music?

Is this a song you want me to sing?

Tov scanned the screen for any sign of a title, but there was nothing.

Okay, so not a song to sing. Maybe it’s just one to listen to?

She hoped it wasn’t a piece they wanted her to play on an instrument.

If this really was from a fan, then they would know that she couldn’t play any instruments.

Tov read over the first eight notes, softly humming them to herself, trying to decipher their meaning.

This sounds kind of familiar.

A feeling of deja vu prickled at her skin as she hummed the notes for a third time.

I know this song. But from where?

She closed her eyes and sung the notes again.

The tune was nostalgic. It must’ve been from Anakt Garden.

But there were no words, so it couldn’t be a song they practiced in class.

Clearly this was for an instrument. A string instrument, if she was reading it correctly.

Tallis was the gifted one in the trio when it came to music composition, not her.

Wait—

Realization struck Tov like a bolt of lightning.

This song…

She knew this song because Tallis wrote it for her when they were kids.

It was “a token of their friendship” he’d said at the time.

Except, as far as she knew, Tallis never wrote it down anywhere. He insisted that he would remember it.

And he never shared it with anyone other than her.

Not even Himei.

But if he never wrote it down, and we’re the only ones who know the song—

Does that mean—

Tov’s heart skipped a beat.

“Tallis is alive.”

————————————————————

Tovallis stans wake up!!! (and it’s just me and @lookatmysillies gripping each other’s shoulders and yelling)

Also more Tov and Wren bonding! It’s a shame Tov didn’t follow that odd feeling she got when she noticed their hands were the same lol

The scores and winner of Round 25 are left blank because Tov wasn’t allowed to watch the round in the hospital. Cassio was worried that it would aggravate her heart issues.

Tallis and Himei belong to @lookatmysillies.

[princedevitt]

Cody's PLE 2023 journey

[cheechdog1]

First Meeting (The Silver Nightmare Au RP Post) (Feat. 39 and Zoey)

(Scene: Basement. The sounds of showering can be heard from above. The animatronic wolf continues to lay dormant.)

( @strawberry-cream-official )

[ringer04]

Cody Rhodes

(C)

[ambreignsfan4life]

Best Match of 2023 Round 1

[anxiousmillennialcowboy]

holding his daughter was one thing

when Michael said that was little Brodie attending his first ringside WrestleMania with Cody's family, I totally lost it

[non-illustrary]

Alittle wip of an illustration I'm gunna work on inspired by "For The Forgotten Ones" Recent chapter. Check out Sorry_Buddy on A03!

[asma-jamal]

Hello.,

My name is Asma Al-Dahdouh from Gaza. We are trapped between walls of fear, despair, and deep sorrow amidst the ongoing war in the Gaza Strip. I appeal to every person with a living conscience, a compassionate heart, and an understanding of humanity to help us.

Help me overcome adversity

I reach out to you today, resilient and compassionate, facing unimaginable challenges. Life in our area has become increasingly difficult due to the ongoing and escalating conflict. I struggle to secure the basic necessities for our family.

Who is Asma and her family?

I am married to Ashraf Jibreel, who is 39 years old. I am 34 and suffer from chronic illnesses, including thyroid disease and rheumatoid arthritis, requiring lifelong medication. We have four children: the oldest is Oday, 14, who suffers from a chronic illness like mine; Muhammad, 12; Amal, 9, who has celiac disease and cannot eat regular foods, requiring a special diet that suits her health condition; and Hussam, who is 4 years old.

How has war made our lives hell?

We all feel fear, deep sadness, and insecurity from the relentless bombardment and destruction since the war on Gaza began. My young children cannot sleep normally due to fear and nightmares. My family and I do not have a safe place to live; we rent our home, which has been shelled.

 We have fled multiple times due to repeated threats and demands to evacuate. My husband used to work as a taxi driver, but his taxi was destroyed in the war, leaving him unemployed. My son Muhammad, my daughter Amal, and I contracted advanced hepatitis, increasing our suffering.

Due to a lack of good food, clean water, and necessary medication, our condition has worsened. Our lives are threatened either by bombardment and shrapnel or by malnutrition, the spread of epidemics and diseases, psychological insecurity, rampant unemployment, lack of fuel, cooking gas, electricity, and my husband losing his job.

Despite the harsh conditions and ongoing uncertainties, I remain hopeful and determined to provide a better future for my husband and children. My spirit is unbreakable, but we need help from those with living consciences and compassionate hearts to overcome the obstacles we face.

How can you help me?

My family and I aspire to build a better future for our children, ensuring their safety and allowing us all to live a dignified life, feeling secure and stable, and living in peace. Help us achieve this dream through your generous donations, which will undoubtedly have a significant impact on saving us. The funds raised will be used for:

Renovating our destroyed home and purchasing furniture and appliances necessary for daily life.

Food and water, ensuring we have daily essentials and medical supplies and healthcare.

Education, supporting my children's education by covering tuition, school supplies, and necessary needs.

Every contribution matters

No donation is too small; every contribution brings us one step closer to relief and a better future. Even if you cannot contribute financially, sharing this campaign with your generous network can make a significant difference.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart.

Asma Al-Dahdouh North Gaza City.

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 39: Life

Summary: Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there. Something thrums deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks.

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,343 words

Warnings: Angst, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, PTSD, nightmares, POV changes, depression and anxiety, illness, language, slightly graphic imagery, very slight violence, rumination, lots of feels, and yes finally some comfort

A/N: Yes, it has finally arrived. The time has come. We are now in the comfort. This very much is a good place to end things for the next month. If you haven't seen my post then I'll say it here, I will be putting the fic on a brief hiatus for the month of October. I have Kyletober planned and trying to do CRCB at the same time will be too much. So this will be the last chapter for a couple weeks while I focus on other things and just give my brain a little break from CRCB. It's been eight months of just pumping out long chapters every week, or almost every week, so I need a little break to focus on other things. I'll still be writing and posting things here (and Ao3 of course) but there won't be another CRCB chapter posted until November.

But anyway, I hope you enjoy this one and the comfort starting and I'm super excited for what's coming next month (can't believe it's almost October)

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

“I need you to be brave.” Christine says, staring up at him. 

His heart thumps in his chest. How bad is it that not only did she summon him down here, but she’s asking him to be brave. He knows you’re sick, that you’ve fallen ill after your moment of anger earlier. She had informed them over dinner as she made some broth that you came down with a fever. 

They had all been worried, sharing glances at the news. John looked like a dog that had been scolded. It was his fault, after all. 

If anything happens to you, it is his fault. 

Johnny swallows the lump in his throat, nodding slowly as he stares down at Christine. “I can be brave.” 

Christine stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She pushes the door open, leading him inside your room. The scent in the air is thick, tainted by the bitter scent of anxiety still lingering in the air, and the sour scent of illness. He misses the fresh scent of strawberries, he has missed it over the last few weeks. Your scent had taken on a bitter edge ever since the cameras were revealed to them. It’s only gotten stronger recently after the events that transpired. 

All of their scents have been off lately. 

It’s dark in the room aside from the bedside lamp. It casts a soft glow around the room, elongating the shadows in the corners. They loom threateningly, and his fingers twitch to turn on the overhead light. 

You don’t like the overhead light. It’s too bright. 

You always prefer softer light. Is it an omega thing, or is it just a you thing? He’s not quite sure. 

How little they really understand you. 

The lamp illuminates a pile of blankets on the bed, stacked one on top of each other to create a lump of soft fabric. You’re underneath that pile, he knows it. You’ve always liked blankets, always carried one with you in the barracks, eternally cold in the harsh world they existed in on base. This many blankets though? It was excessive even for you. 

He approaches the bed slowly, scared at what he might find. Images of you laying in a puddle of blood, cold and stiff fills his mind. Images of a skeletal figure reduced to nothing but skin stretched over bones has his heart racing. What will he find on the other side of that pile obscuring you from his vision? 

He swallows down his fear, reminding himself that he’s a soldier. He’s seen dead bodies before, he’s killed before. So why is he so scared now? 

This isn’t war. It’s you. 

He steps up to the side of the bed, looking down on you. You’re shivering, trembling under the blankets. Sweat beads on your forehead, skin dewy and clammy in your fever. You look more alive than the skeletal figure he had pictured in his mind, but you don’t look well. 

You look near death. 

“I’m worried about her.” Christine says, closing the door behind her. “She needs someone from her pack close. You’re making the most effort right now, and if anyone might get through to her, it’s you. She needs...someone.” Christine sighs. “Someone who can offer what I can’t.”  

“She needs a member of her pack.” Johnny says, easily putting together what Christine was saying. 

He knows what she’s asking. He’s scared. He’s not sure how you’ll react. The last people you want to see right now is your pack, including him. How will you react to having him so close? 

“Exactly.” Christine says, stepping up right next to him.

Her fingers wrap around his wrist, and he lets her guide his hand to your cheek. It’s hot and clammy against his palm, a fire blazing under your skin. You let out a shuddering breath, the air fanning weakly against his wrist. Your head turns just slightly, pressing into his hand. It’s a good sign, despite the delirium you have to be stuck in. What are you imagining is happening right now? What is your brain telling you? 

“Touch her, talk to her.” Christine says, releasing his wrist. He keeps his hand there, pressed against your cheek. “We need to try and get her back before this gets worse.” 

Before they lose you. 

She won’t say it out loud. 

She doesn’t need to. 

Johnny nods, turning his head to look at Christine over his shoulder. She looks exhausted, and not just because of the late hour. She’s done so much over the past few weeks watching you and caring for you. Maybe it is time one of them tries to step up and help her. You can’t avoid them forever, no matter how much you might feel like trying. 

He has to try. For you. 

“I know what tae do.” He says, his eyes flickering to the books stacked on your dresser, the ones Simon and John picked up. 

Christine squeezes his arm. “I’m just across the living room if you need me.” 

“I’ll try not to.” He says. 

She stares up at him for a long moment before nodding. She understands. He doesn’t have to say much else. She leaves the door cracked and he doesn’t mind, moving away from you to look through the books on the dresser. A handful of them are new, or at least ones he’s never seen you read before. A couple are ones he knows are in your collection at the barracks. He picks one of those, some fantasy novel he’s seen you read more than once. 

He looks between the bed and the chairs. He could pull one over and sit by your side. 

No, Christine said it was better to touch you. 

Instead he climbs onto the bed, sitting close enough he can feel the heat from your body. He cracks open the book, flipping through to the first page. He clears his throat, staring down at you for a moment before he begins to read. 

Rain batters the roof, coming down hard outside. The wind is blowing, whooshing past the house, rattling the shutters. The storm blew in from the sea, dumping rain by dinner and then the wind picked up by the time they were all getting ready to settle in for the night. 

It feels fitting, a storm blowing in at a time when a storm is brewing within their pack.

The storm he blew into their pack. 

He lays there in bed, listening to it rage outside. It’s quiet in the house, Simon and Johnny already settled in, and so are you downstairs. Kyle is beside him, but not asleep. He’s laying awake again as they have done since their arrival. He can feel the heat of Kyle’s body against his arm as he lays on his back, Kyle on his side facing away from him. 

“You just had to do it, didn’t you?” Kyle asks quietly, breaking the silence. “Can’t even go a week without trying to apologize knowing full well she won’t forgive you.” 

John stays silent, having expected some kind of reprimanding for his actions. He really was selfish for what he did. Kyle is right. You won’t forgive him, no matter how many times or ways he tries to say sorry. 

“You’re just making it worse.” Kyle huffs out. “You’re the last person that should try apologizing right now.”

“You’re right.” He finally says. “It was selfish of me to do that. I just wanted her to know-” 

“She knows.” Kyle snaps, cutting him off. “She’s not stupid and oblivious. She knows we’re all feeling guilty, she knows how sorry we all are. She won’t let us apologize until she’s ready. Shows just how little you actually understand her, trying to do that.” Kyle pushes himself up to sit. “She doesn’t want words. She’s had words spewed at her, her whole life telling her what to do, how to feel, how to act. She want’s actions. She wants us to prove to her that we do care, that we are sorry, that we’re making an effort to make things up to her. She wants us to prove that we’re putting her first by putting her first.” 

John knows he’s right. Words won’t solve a situation like this. None of them know where to start, though. How do you try and make things up to someone when you’re not even sure that person wants you to try? 

“She’s sick now, because of what you did.” Kyle continues. “If anything happens to her...” He trails off, shaking his head. 

“I’ll let you take the first shot.” John says. “I know. I’ve been a miserable excuse of an alpha. It’s easy when you have the confines of the military to hold everything in place. When those expectations dictate your life and how to run a pack. It’s easy, when you can exist as a pack with those set routines and structures. The facade that makes everything seem like it's working.” He shakes his head. “We never would have worked outside of those confines.” 

Kyle’s head turns slightly towards him, but his gaze is still on the far wall. “No, we wouldn’t have. None of us would have chosen this in the first place.” 

“Probably not.” John agrees. “Then we got an omega added, an outsider that showed us just how weak we really were.” 

“We were crumbling long before that.” Kyle says. “We weren’t ready for an omega, we shouldn’t have ever had an omega.” 

“I should never have been head alpha.” John says. “Being an alpha is different from being a captain. It shouldn’t have been me.” 

Kyle snorts. “He would have never agreed.” 

“That delay might have saved us.” 

“Or it would have made things worse.” Kyle says. “Shepherd wanted us to bond with her right away so his control over us would strengthen if he had to use that power. If those bonds weren’t put into place when they were, they might have tried to force it.” 

“That would have only destabilized things further.” John says. Kyle isn’t wrong. Who knows what lengths they would have gone to, to ensure what they wanted would happen. “They were watching us from the start. They knew exactly how to play all of us.” 

“Simon was right all along in his suspicions.” Kyle says, laying back down on the bed. Their shoulders are touching. It feels nice, having him close again. They’ve been close for the last few days, forced together by their sleeping arrangements, but it feels different now. 

“He’ll be a better alpha than I ever could be.” John says quietly, almost speaking to himself. 

“I think she will come to forgive you eventually.” Kyle says, turning his head to look at John. “You just have to give her time. A lot of time. You have to figure out how to prove yourself worthy of that forgiveness.” 

“I want to take her to the beach.” John says. “Once she’s recovered.” 

“If she recovers.” Kyle had pieced together the worry in Christine’s voice combined with her words. They all had. 

“She will.” John says. “She’s a tough little thing. She’s not going to give up just like that.” 

“I hope you’re right.” Kyle says. 

“I may not have the best track record with being right currently, but I’m confident in her and her strength.” John turns his head to look at Kyle in the darkness. The storm is calming outside, the wind dying down and the rain lightening. “She’s stronger than all of us combined.” 

The corners of Kyle’s lips twitch. “You are right about that.” 

It smells good. 

There’s a rich scent in the air as you begin to wake. It smells like Christmas, like spices and citrus. Warm gingerbread and cider. Freshly squeezed orange juice on Christmas morning just like every year. It had been your favorite, though you never understood the lengths your mother went to, the early morning and the hours spent in the kitchen on Christmas slaving away to make everything perfect. Everyone got something they wanted, something they loved. You never appreciated that effort until now. 

Oranges. Spices. Warmth. 

You know that scent. 

It’s hot in the room, sweat soaking your skin as you lay on your right side. Heat surrounds you like a cocoon, just like the scent. Warm and soft and too much. You try to wiggle out from under the blankets but you can’t move, so instead you shuffle them off. Some of them hit the floor with soft plops, the others just barely hanging on the side of the bed, trapped under your body. You’re still stuck, still hot as you lay there, a comforting weight around you. The scent floods your nose, fills your body with a pleasant feeling as you lay there, breathing through your nose. Oranges, spices, warmth. 

Someone is baking a pie.

It smells good. You want to bury yourself in it, press yourself into that scent until it’s the only thing you can smell. It brings you a comfort you didn’t realize you were missing. Something fills your chest, a weight beginning to press down inside of you.

Your hair sticks to your face as you lay there, tempted to get up and see who is baking and why. There’s weight pressing down on you from the outside as well. You can’t move. You’re stuck. 

The weight around you moves. 

No, it’s not pie. 

It’s Johnny. 

That’s why you know the scent. That’s why it feels so familiar, so comforting. It’s Johnny. Johnny is pressed up against your back, his arm tossed over your waist. That’s why it’s so hot, his body putting off warmth like a heater. 

You should be angry at the breach of your clearly placed barriers. You should be upset that he would come in here and just climb in bed like this. You should be pissed that one of them would try something like this after your outburst yesterday. 

You shouldn’t be crying. 

Not out of relief. 

Oh how you missed this. 

Something begins to throb in your chest as you lay there, crying quietly in Johnny’s arms. Something begins to thrum deep within you, something you haven’t felt in weeks. Life? Hope? Happiness? 

You should be upset. 

You can’t be. 

Johnny grunts quietly behind you, his arm leaving your waist as he stretches. He’s awake now, or maybe he hadn’t been at all and had been waiting for some sign of life, some movement from you, something to try and give him a hint at what you must be feeling. He doesn’t say anything, laying still as you sniffle in the silence. No one else is up yet, despite the blue light of dawn coming in through the gap in the curtain. 

“Johnny?” You whisper, even the quiet sound hurting your sore throat. You’re thirsty, desperately so, but that’s a problem for later. 

“It’s me, kitten.” He says hesitantly, the pet name making a sob tear from your throat. 

“Johnny,” You cry, the tears falling in a cascade. You can’t stop them. You’ve lost complete control as you lay there sobbing. “Hold me.” 

He doesn’t say anything else, his arms wrapping around you and tugging you close against his chest. He locks you in his embrace, holding you tightly against his chest as you cry. It feels good. Life and energy flows through you again for the first time in weeks. That empty space in your chest begins to fill slowly, warmth blossoming in your body despite the sweat soaking you both. Johnny offers no complaints as he presses his face into your hair. 

How you missed this. 

How you need this. 

You seem more relaxed at dinner. Despite your angry outburst the day before, and your sudden illness, you look significantly less miserable than you did your first attempt at joining them for dinner. The yelling did a number on your throat, but even now it’s nothing compared to that first day. You’re having soup again, and this time there’s a side of mash and peas next to the bowl. 

You even walked to the table without the crutch. 

Simon sits beside you again, all of them taking their respective seats at the table. They’ve assigned themselves these seats, even when you don’t join them for a meal. You’re at the head of the table as you were the first time, Simon and Chrstine on either side of you. Kyle and Johnny are seated next to them, and John is across the table from you. You’ve been avoiding looking at him. You haven’t even so much as glanced up at him. 

Simon is watching you carefully out of the corner of his eye, trying not to make it obvious. If you’ve noticed, you haven’t shown any disapproval. He’s ready in case he has to act fast again, but you are far more steady than you were that first time. There’s no tremble to your hand as you bring the spoon up to your mouth. 

The others look happier than before too. Johnny has stopped crying. Not even a sniffle from him ever since this morning when he emerged from your room. None of them had said anything about it, though they have an inkling of what had happened, judging by Christine’s lack of reaction to it. Kyle looks happier too, sitting straighter like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. It probably has, with the lightening of the mood. Whatever happened with Johnny this morning, it’s made a huge change already.  

John has never been much of a religious man, but god bless Johnny for whatever magic he worked this morning. 

You don’t even look feverish as you sit there, spooning soup into your mouth. A lingering low-grade fever, Christine had informed them earlier that afternoon, but significantly less concerning than things had been yesterday.  

He’s glad to hear it. He’s always glad to hear Christine’s updates on how you’re doing, how well you’re healing, at least physically. The body heals easily. Mentally...there’s still a long way to go. Healing physically will help mentally, but with all the trauma, years and years of trauma, it’s going to take a long time to heal from that. 

The clink of your spoon in your bowl draws him from his thoughts and he glances up at you. 

“Getting full?” Christine asks as you take a sip of your water, wincing slightly as you swallow it. 

“Can I have some tea?” You ask. 

“Sure,” Christine says, going to push her chair back, but John is already standing.

“I’ll make some.” He says, not offering any room for argument as he turns his back on the table to head for the kettle. 

You’ve been drinking more tea lately, likely to soothe your throat. He never thought he’d see the day, given your determination to stand with Johnny on the side of coffee. It��s a bit late for coffee, but he does know it wouldn’t keep you awake in the slightest. You love your sleep, as most omegas do, and nothing will get in the way of it. Not even some late evening caffeine. 

He sets mugs out on a tray, deciding to make tea for everyone. At least that way it’ll make it seem less targeted at you. He’s not doing it to try and impress you or win your affections back. He just wants to help take the load off of Christine’s shoulders. She’s done so much for you, for all of them, already. 

He steeps the tea before bringing the mugs to the table along with some milk and sugar. He knows at least Simon and Kyle will drink some, and he will as well. He brings the kettle over, filling the mugs with tea. All of them sit there watching him, waiting tensely for what will happen next. Will you take the mug of tea he offers? Or will you refuse. Even if you threw it in his face, it wouldn’t make him mad. It would be horribly painful, yes, but he would deserve it. 

Perhaps him doing this was a mistake. 

He stares at the sugar and milk as he grabs one of the mugs. Do you like sugar or milk in your tea? He’s not sure. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. He knows you like creamer in your coffee. But how do you take your tea? 

What a sad excuse of a human being he is. 

You don’t look at him as he sets the mug next to your water glass. You’re still eating your soup, your hand trembling just slightly now. Your scent is tainted still, a whiff of it filling his nose. Displeasure, a hint of burning anger. 

This was a mistake. 

He sets the milk and sugar next to you first, letting you finish making your tea. He won’t push that boundary and risk making it wrong. It would only add fuel to the fire, make it more obvious that he knows and cares so little for you. He doesn’t even know how you take your tea. 

He takes his seat again as the others help themselves to the tea, even Johnny taking a mug. Whether he’s doing it because he wants to make the moment feel less awkward, or because he genuinely wants some, John will never know. 

He made a mistake in doing that. 

Still, despite the awkwardness, it felt good to do that. 

Maybe that’s how they get closer to you. 

The little things, things that take some of the pressure off Christine. She has to be getting tired, going nonstop all day. Anything they can do to help, they should. Things seemed to go well with Johnny, so maybe the others can have some success in their attempts to gain your favor once more. 

John will have to stay away for now. Distance is what you need from him. 

That’s alright. He has other things he can do. 

He tries to hide the small grin on his face as you pick up the mug, taking a sip of the tea. 

They’re fighting. 

You stand at the back door watching them throw punches. They’re solid punches, nothing held back, no pulling them. They’re all breathing heavily, two of them watching the other two fight. 

Simon’s fist meets Kyle’s shoulder, Kyle’s fist going for Simon’s head but he’s too fast, ducking before he drives his shoulder into Kyle’s stomach. Kyle hits the grass, disappearing from your view. 

John steps forward, pulling Simon back and speaking to him, but you can’t hear from this distance. 

“Still out there?” Dr. Keller asks, stepping up beside you. 

“Yep.” You say, watching as Johnny takes Kyle’s place against Simon. 

“John did say it would be good for them.” Dr. Keller says, wincing as Johnny’s fist hits Simon’s ribs. 

“They’re gonna start a real fight.” You say, watching as Simon starts to get more aggressive. You can tell because you’ve been in that position before. You’ve seen when that switch starts to flip, when the alpha starts to take over. He was never this aggressive with you, but perhaps even his alpha could be rational given your obvious size and strength difference. 

And the fact you’re an omega. 

“Well, that’s their problem.” Dr. Keller says. “As long as they keep it out there.” 

“They might make you patch them up afterwards.” You say. 

She lets out a snort. “There’s ice packs in the freezer and a first aid kit in the bathroom.” 

You try to hide your smile as you watch John get in between Johnny and Simon, speaking to Simon again. Maybe it will be good for them to get some of that pent up energy out. They’re all used to being so active and always having something to do. Being stuck inside has to be driving them stir-crazy. Simon has been going on runs in the morning, and you know John has been going on walks every so often. 

You’re starting to feel a bit stir-crazy yourself. It’s taking you back to the days shut up in the barracks, unable to go anywhere or do anything, having to entertain yourself for hours while they were gone. At least there you had space and room to move around, even when you were being trailed, one of them constantly following you around. They might not be hovering quite as obviously here, but it still feels suffocating, like you can’t truly have a moment to yourself. 

“I want to go for a walk.” You say, shifting on your feet. The likelihood of you going very far is slim, at least right now. 

How far you’ve fallen from your running days. 

“I suppose you could go for a little walk.” Dr. Keller gives you a sideways glance. “Might be good to help get your strength back. I doubt they’d let us go without one of them, though.” 

“Probably not.” You agree, knowing they won’t even let you sit out on the porch without one of them watching. If you left the house without even telling one of them, all hell would break loose and you’d be condemned to your room once more. 

The thought makes you wince. 

You almost wish you could go out there and throw some punches at one of them. That might make you feel a bit better. Hell, line them all up and you’ll take turns beating the crap out of all of them. Maybe that might heal some of the anger and pain still stuck inside of you. 

That’s an idea for a different day, though. 

It’s oddly warm out today, or at least that’s what Ashley said. Soon the weather will turn, though, and the cold rain will come. Lots of rain. 

Your eyes flick between Ashley and Dr. Keller. The three of you are seated in a circle around a table outside, steaming mugs of tea in front of you. Neither of them are staring at you, instead focused on each other as Ashley speaks. 

Dr. Keller has a crush. 

It’s not hard to tell. Her eyes are focused on Ashley, a smile tugging at her lips. Her gaze only flicks to you when you shift and move in your seat before she’s staring at Ashley again. You can’t blame her. You can hardly bring yourself to look away from Ashely too. 

It makes you almost miss Kyle. 

They have the same soft brown eyes and the same bright smile. They’re both perfect, like they were chiseled out of marble and brought to life. They even laugh the same, a genuine chuckle coming right from the chest. 

It makes you want to laugh, even if you have no clue what was being said. 

How has Kyle been handling this? You’ve hardly paid him any mind. His connection to John puts him too close to the source of your anger and rage and pain. Johnny cries, Simon is a brick wall, John reeks of guilt and misery. Kyle...you don’t know. He’s been a blank spot, a hazy figure in the distance. 

It almost makes you feel bad. You’ve completely cut him off, isolated him. Has he cried? Has he been sulking? How miserable does he feel about everything? Does he feel guilty or miserable at all? He has to. They all do. 

Good. You think. They deserve it. 

“You do get stuck in your head, huh?” 

Your gaze snaps up, looking between Dr. Keller and Ashley. They’re both staring at you quietly, a small smile on Ashley’s face. You did get lost in your thoughts again, stuck in your ruminations as you usually do. Lately it hasn’t been a problem, as you’re alone or with Dr. Keller often. You’re supposed to be thinking and processing. It just happens at the worst times. 

Simon would hate it still. 

“Something specific on your mind?” Dr. Keller asks. 

You probably shouldn’t say anything. How would you explain how your mind went from Dr. Keller crushing on Ashley to hoping the guys feel guilty? You’re not even sure you should reveal that you know about Dr. Keller’s crush, especially if she hasn’t said anything yet. You don’t think she has. They’re not...close in the way a couple would be, a distance still between them. Does Ashley feel the same way? It’s hard to tell since you don’t know her quite as well yet. 

Maybe that can be your goal, besides healing. Something to focus on, something to distract from the constant emotions and pain. Get Ashley and Dr. Keller together. 

They’d be perfect for each other. 

“Not really.” You finally say, looking down at the book in your lap. You’re about halfway through it. It’s fine. Nothing to write home about. 

“What do you think of the book?” Ashley asks, sensing your end to that discussion. She doesn’t push. You like that about her. 

“It’s alright.” You shrug. “Kinda slow.” 

“They are spending a lot of time on character development.” Dr. Keller says. 

“We should keep a tally of how many times the phrase “his dark eyes” gets mentioned.” Ashley says, making you laugh. 

“It’s good to hear you laugh.” Dr. Keller says, smiling at you. 

“It...feels good to laugh again.” You say. “It’s nice to have something to laugh about.” 

“Well then I’m going to make that my mission.” Ashley says, taking a sip of her tea. “Get you to laugh as much as possible.” 

You don’t think you’ll mind that one bit.

The scream dies in your throat as you jolt awake in bed. The book that had been in your hands when you fell asleep drops to the floor with a quiet thud as you jerk up into a seated position. You’re breathing heavily, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you try and calm your racing heart. It’s beating hard like it might beat right out of your chest. You’re shaking, your hands clutching at the baggy shirt you’re wearing like you’re trying to cling to some hope that it was all a dream, that you’re awake now and this is real life. 

Sweat beads on your forehead as you sit there, shaking in the darkness. You need someone. The shadows are closing in around you, your nightlight unable to keep them completely away. You need someone to fight them back. You need someone to reassure you that it was all just a dream, someone that can wipe the tears streaming down your cheeks and whisper softly to you that it’s all okay. That it’s all over. 

You need Kyle. 

Where is Kyle? How do you get to him without waking the others? You could go upstairs but what if they think you’re an intruder? You don’t even know which room Kyle is in. You wish you had a phone. You wish you could call him. You wish you could just telepathically reach out and tell him you need him and only him. 

You’ll wake them all anyway trying to find him. 

You suck a breath in, your hands still shaking as they cling to your shirt. You have to do it. It’s the only way to get them all down here, to get Kyle down here. 

You take a couple deep breaths before you scream. 

Within seconds the house is alive, footsteps racing across the living room towards your room as others thud from above. 

The overhead light stings your eyes, forcing them closed. It’s too bright, intrusive even with your eyes pinched closed. You can still see it behind your eyelids, harsh and too artificial. Just a price you have to pay to get what you need. 

Dr. Keller’s hands are soft as they peel your hands off your shirt, your fingers trembling with nothing to hold on to. They open and close, seeking out something to grip, something to give you an anchor to reality. You’re still panicking, your breaths shaky as you sit there, trembling in fear. 

“You’re alright,” She tries to soothe you, brushing your sweaty hair back. “It was just a dream.” 

You wish it was. 

“Kyle.” The name comes out as barely a whisper, stuttering out of your trembling lips. 

“What was that, sweetie?” Dr. Keller asks, leaning in closer. 

“Kyle.” You whisper louder now, the name shaky in the tense silence of the room. 

“Kyle,” Dr. Keller repeats, standing up straight. 

Quiet, hesitant footsteps approach the bed. Your eyes are still pinched closed against the harsh overhead light. You can’t bring yourself to be brave enough to open them, to face that harsh light. It might reveal the truth, that it was all just a dream, that this is still just a dream. 

It might not be Kyle approaching the bed at all.

You can’t know. You don’t want to know. You’re afraid to open your eyes. 

There’s a click as the lamp is turned on. You still can’t bring yourself to open your eyes. It’s supposed to be comforting, the soft light, but it could be used against you, giving you a false sense of hope and security. 

You flinch as the overhead light is turned off, still too afraid to open your eyes. Your hands have closed around the blanket pooled at your waist, gripping it so tightly your fingers are aching. It’s real. You’re touching it, you can feel the texture of it in your hands. It’s real. 

It’s real. 

Your breaths are shaky as you breathe in and out, trying to catch a scent. Any scent. Something to tell you that you’re really awake, that it really is Kyle standing next to the bed. 

“I’m here.” A soft voice says, something hovering in the air next to you. 

Kyle. 

You know that voice. You’d know it anywhere. 

You finally crack your eyes open, tears brimming as you turn your head to look up. Kyle is standing there awkwardly next to the bed, his hand raised as if he was reaching out to comfort you, but thought better of it. You’re glad he did. You might have spiraled into another panic if he’d touched you before you knew it was him. 

You stare at his hand for a moment before you peel one of your hands away from the blanket. Your hand is shaky as you lift it, reaching out towards his own trembling fingers. 

His fingers are warm and rough, just as you remember as they close around yours. You’re still shaking, a cold sweat forming on your skin as fear trickles down your spine. 

What if this is a dream? What if this isn’t real?

“I’m here.” He says, rubbing his thumb across your knuckles. 

You want to believe him. You really do. 

You pull his hand closer, pressing your cheek against it. His skin is warm against your cheek, and like Johnny, he makes no complaints about your sweat smearing on his skin. You’ve been that close to them before, sweat mixing together, slicking skin. How far things have fallen since then. 

Your tears drip onto his skin as you hold him there, just breathing him in for a moment. He smells like the sea, but with that soft, light scent underneath. You missed that scent, more than you realize you did. 

You let out a quiet sound as you rub your cheek against his hand, almost like you’re trying to embed his scent under your skin. 

He doesn’t say anything as you lean against his hand, tears still streaming down your face. The lamp is pushing some of the darkness away, but it’s not enough. It’s never enough. You can still feel the eyes from the dark corners of the room, the shadowy figures just out of view threatening to reach out and tear you away. 

A shudder runs down your spine, your fingers squeezing around Kyle’s in what has to be a painful grip. 

“I’m here.” He says again, pulling you from the dark thoughts plaguing your mind. He’d know if someone was here. He’d know if anything threatening was nearby. 

It’s his job. 

The job. 

The thing that’s kept you so separated from them, kept you at a distance. The thing that put your life in danger, that exposed them all as liars. The thing that’s left you an empty shell.

Maybe having him down here was a mistake. 

But the shadows...

You tug on his hand, pulling him closer to the bed. He sinks down on the edge carefully, still a bit hesitant. You don’t blame him. It’s not like you’ve been the most welcoming of them. For good reason. 

You need him right now. That need for safety and security far outweighs the conflicting emotions battling in your brain right now. 

“Stay.” You say, the word tumbling out from your trembling lips. 

“You’re sure?” He asks, his thumb still stroking your knuckles. You’re not sure if he even knows he’s doing it. 

You nod, tugging him closer as you scoot over in bed. He lets you guide him, laying on top of the covers.

You try not to think about it too much. 

It’s nice having him close. The shadows don’t seem quite as dark, the threats in them silent now that he’s here. He’ll keep you safe. He’ll protect you from the silent threats. That’s why you want him. That’s his role to play in all of this. They all have roles, they all have their places in the pack. They all have a part to play, not just for you but for each other. 

They’ve been struggling. 

They’re struggling because you’re struggling. 

The silence is loud as you lay there listening to the hum of electricity. You’re not quite sure what to say, how to break the silence. What is there to say that you haven’t already conveyed by your silence? What is there to say beyond what you’ve conveyed in your anger? They all heard your outburst, they all know the source of your anger and what they did to cause it. 

What’s left to say when you have nothing tying you together anymore except a claim and a half-broken bond? What is there to say when saying the wrong thing might fray that bond even more than it already has been? 

“I’m sorry.” Kyle says, finally breaking the tense silence. 

Of course he’d start with that. 

You let out a huff, turning on your side to face away from him. “I know you all are. You don’t have to keep saying it.” 

He lets out a sigh. He knows it. He’s not apologizing to you, for you. “Nothing can change what we did and we know that. We just...want you to know that we’ll do whatever it takes to help you and support you. We don’t want to push that boundary too far, but we’re all here if you need us.” 

You let out a hum. You already know that too. That’s why Johnny came so willingly, that’s why he stayed. That’s why they all tiptoe around you and stare at you like you’re a wild animal that may strike at any moment. 

Part of you wishes they wouldn’t. 

Part of you wants to go back to the way things were. Part of you wants to pretend that everything is normal again, that you love them and they love you just as much. You want to go back to that comfortable, seamless flow of one around the other, the way they all moved in sync, aware of each other without even needing to look. You want to insert yourself into that flow again and let them guide you along with them. You want to trust them blindly again and know they’d catch you if you fall. 

They proved they won’t though. They proved you can’t trust them to catch you. You’re on your own again, forced to catch yourself, forced to save yourself. You have to make that rope to catch yourself with. 

Yet, a deeper part of you yearns for that connection. Your omega screams for it, for your alpha, for your pack. You want them back with you, you want the bonds to heal and to be stronger than they were before. You want them to do as they said and prove to you that they’ve changed, that they're putting you first. 

The omega should be first. The omega should be the center. The omega should be the sun they gravitate towards, revolve around.

That’s what the book said. That book that’s sitting on your desk in the barracks. That book you read over and over, convincing yourself that it was true and they were a good pack like that book said. 

They’re not. 

We all make mistakes. 

They’ve never had an omega before. How are they supposed to know how to have an omega in their pack if they’ve never had one before? None of them came from big packs. John is the only one who’s ever even dated an omega before. They’re just as new at this as you are. 

You probably know more than them. 

You spent years learning how to be an omega in a pack. You read the books and wrote the essays and did the research. You read that book. 

Simon read that book too. 

Yet he did nothing. 

“Why did you want me?” Kyle asks softly, pulling you from your ruminations. 

You turn your head to look at him, staring into those soft brown eyes. Brown eyes you’ve missed. Tears trail down your cheeks as you stare at him, wetting the paths of the ones that had slowed to a stop in your rumination. 

Why did you want him and not Johnny? 

Johnny was the one that came for you, that comforted you, that got you through your fever. Johnny was the one you asked to hold you, to give you that support you’ve been so desperately clawing for. 

So why did you ask for Kyle?

You turn onto your back again so you’re laying side by side, your shoulder brushing his. He’s warm, and you just want to nuzzle into him and never let him go again. 

Another tear slides down your face as you stare at him, at that concerned look on his face. “I need you to tell me it’s going to be okay.” 

That concern morphs into understanding as he shifts slightly, reaching out for you. You let him, you let his thumb brush the tear sliding down your cheek away. He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just staring at you as you lay there in the warm light of the lamp. The shadows don’t seem so close now, so threatening with him here. The things that lay in the darkness waiting for you to sleep so they can seep into your mind and stir up the horrible memories lying there in wait are at bay for now, fought off just simply by his existence in this room. 

His thumb continues to brush your cheek, your skin tingling along the path it follows. “It’s going to be okay.” He says softly, quietly. 

You’re not sure if he’s convincing you of that or himself, or perhaps both. You don’t know what he’s feeling, what he’s been feeling. You’ve been ignoring him, pushing him away out of fear that if you looked too closely, you’d break down. That bond will never break between the two of you, held tight with steel simply because of that claim your alpha and his alpha has on the both of you. No matter how much you hate John, that bond can’t be broken. It can’t be cut. It can’t go away. It can’t be denied. Not completely. 

A small smile tugs at Kyle’s lips, a reassuring smile. His words are stronger this time, spoken with more conviction and surety, like he’s speaking it into existence, manifesting it for the future when things perhaps can be different. 

When things are better. 

“It’s going to be okay.” He says, cupping your cheek, staring right into your eyes as he speaks. “We’re going to be okay.” 

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[sebcalaguas]

THERE!!! I fixed it.

[90s00wcwwwf]

And still.

(Upcoming recaps; WWF Break Down 98 & WCW Bash at the beach 98)

[chenlesfavorite]

NIGHT RIDER, zhong chenle

working night shifts 24/7 at the convenience store while also supporting your boyfriend’s obsession with watching motorcyclists race is not easy, but little did you know that one of the bikers that he loves soon gets involved with you.

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— pairing: motorcyclist!chenle x fem!reader

— genres: social media au (smau), written, slowburn, angsty-ish, fluff, strangers to enemies to lovers (except they're not really enemies.. they just can't stand each other)

— extra: y/n is dating jaehyun (from boynextdoor) but they break up, jaehyun is kinda toxic, chenle is a lil shithead, probably inaccurate descriptions of motorcycle racing, y/n and chenle are crackheads when together

— warnings: lots of death jokes, profanity, everything in this story is pure fiction and not an actual depiction of how they act!!

— playlist: Do I Wanna Know? - Arctic Monkeys | devil in a red dress - EIGHTYEIGHTWAV | eyes don't lie - Isabel LaRosa | HEARTBEAT - Isabel LaRosa | COLD BLOODED - Chris Grey | Rude Boy - Rihanna | OHMAMI - Chase Atlantic, Maggie Lindemann | Te Quiero - KISS OF LIFE

— authors note: my 2nd smau!! this one will be pretty different from got my ion you and hopefully better 🤭 i’m super excited for this one ngl..

— status: finished

— taglist: closed

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profiles 1 | profiles 2

1. fuckass job and bf worries

2. 40 dollars?!

3. kicked out (half smau/half written)

4. easy forgiveness

5. victim of bad boyfriendism

6. where’s the apology?

7. a fool in love

8. he’s a sim now!

9. scary stares

10. surprise dinner (fully written)

11. sensing something... ah yes, jaemrina

12. the long awaited breakup

13. living life to the fullest and fuck chenle!

14. or maybe… don’t fuck chenle?

15. bad energy and mewing

16. the witch is coming

17. good job, genius!

18. the race (fully written)

19. nightmare wishes

20. is it the end of the world?

21. apologies are in order… oh and you’re not that bad

22. single and ready to mingle

23. yuta, the rizzler

24. yes, a date is happening!

25. stood up (half smau/half written)

26. we’ll forget about it… right? (half smau/half written)

27. hooked by why don’t we vibes

28. prince sugarplums the 5th

29. she’s not my lovergirl! / he’s not my man!

30. who want backshots?

31. his true feelings (half smau/half written)

32. send help… or maybe don’t?

33. ho is u coo?

34. find her asap

35. king of racing (fully written)

36. nothing more than a bad decision

37. no deep meaning behind it

38. oddly specific lyrics

39. jaemrina sailed!

40. talk to me, please

41. hate you & miss you

42. mission get cheny/n to make up

43. mission accomplished (fully written)

44. our sims are getting married 100%

45. my angel

— end —

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[cheechdog1]

Look what Zoey's found! (The Silver Nightmare AU)

( @strawberry-cream-official )