#wrote this listening to In Our Bedroom After The War - Stars

[a-mess-of-a-crow]

CONTINUATION!

I decided to color the numbers for a better reading experience

11.) Dear God - Confeti

Numb little bug - Em beihold

In our bedroom after the war - Stars

Love like you - Steven Universe

Maybe I'll make a Playlist of cry worthy songs

12.) Imagine a shy, funny, scarred by traumatic experiences, person, who masks it with humor, has an amazing taste in anime and movies. Loves the same 2015 game as you and the same other games, who also simp for that skeleton, but also a batman villain. Who is green.

Where you think that she is your secret siamese twin that got seperated from you early on.

The only thing we can't agree on is salad dressing.

Someone, who has a hard time sharing her interests, slowly opening up to you, sharing her favorite Vocaloid music and influencing you to the point you're getting into it. Someone who is obsessed with her cat, who shows you so many videos and pictures of her cat named Hexe till you have an entire gallery of Hexe. She is someone who can't get in her head that people love her, that i love her, just the way that she is. And i would tell her a million times if i had to.

And Mochi, if you ever read this...

I just want to let you know...

THE WHITE DRESSING IS STILL BETTER THAN SALT AND VINEGAR!!!

And i love you. Dearly.

13.) I can hardly remember my last dream, but i can write about a dream i once had!

I was buying school supplies for a test, then i was in school and wrote the test, in a computer room, i was sitting in the last row.

But when i looked up, i saw a man, in a fox suit.

But he didn't have a head. I could see the bone and muscle tissue, and he slowly came towards me. I knew i only had a limited time for the test and so i panicked on trying to finish it quickly.

But the man came closer.

Going down the row i heard his footsteps closer. I looked up, his body was faced towards me, as if he was looking at me.

I start to scribble faster, but then he was already right next to me.

I turn to him and he sort of fused with me, if felt disgusting and awful, like i just wanted to dissappear, i felt myself rotting.

But then i was fine. Suddenly i was in our old Camper, with my mom. I knew it was part of the test, to cook soup with my mom. So i got started. Chopping vegetables and everything, while talking to my mom.

We finished the soup and sat down to eat it.

She chatted with me, asked me about how I'm feeling, how's school. I told her it's fine. But then she asked me why I'm lying.

The dream ended there. I don't describe it as a nightmare ((I'm normally never scared of my dreams.)) but this one made me feel absolutely pathetic.

14.)

Either white hot chocolate or Black tea with honey and milk.

Can't decide XD

15.) Not album, but band. Ghost bear is a band that i found on SoundCloud, hell not even that. I liked one of their songs ("The Steven Bradley") , but didn't bother looking them up. But then i discovered a second song of theirs on YouTube as an animation (Necromancin dancin). And i loved it to bits. Their entire vibe just gets me. I never thought i would get into indie rock as much as i do now. Also i found out that I'm also a metal head ((as long as the voices is still legible))

I'm an absolute fan, and after years of denying i had a favorite band, i can finally say that it's those dudes.

If you have a few minutes, check them out!

16.) I think the most flattering thing is to actively listen to someone, like giving them your full attention and making them realize that what they are saying has meaning to you.

Taking interest in them and let them influence you. That's the best flattery you could possibly do.

17.)

https://www.behance.net/gallery/21889993/Phobia

I have this as my pfp sometimes.

It is sort of looming to me, but also calming.

Either you interpret it that you looking down at the hole you're going to sink in, Drowning in the process...

Or you're swimming up, looking back at all the darkness you leave behind and swimming to the surface to breath.

And as usual, the art is in the eyes of the observer.

18.) I'll assume you mean clothing, and in that case=

Anything gray or black, anything cute, a little bit emo, anything with skulls, trouser wise anything that fits, tshirt that is merch also.

Shoes? Those that don't hurt my feet.

Other than that, i just wear the stuff that doesn't smell, is dirty or has holes.

19.) The concept that you can ((roughly)) align people by what sin they have.

I'm more of a glutton more than anything, either literally, with food, or figuratively, collecting, having to complete any game 100%, needing to know anything about a game to be 100% efficient, when I'm interested in a topic i need to know everything about it immediately.

Needing to know what things either taste, smell or feel like.

((sometimes it's very annoying))

20.) Ouch, i cant even remember. I guess on YouTube, emiru or Jaiden? I dunno.

Welp that was a lot again.

Heh, i dont even know why I'm doing this XD

50 Q’s

1.) describe yourself through the eyes of a stranger? 2.) what is a quality you’d like to change about yourself? 3.) what is your worst potential fear for the future? 4.) which television series do you use as a form of escapism? 5.) share a secret about yourself? 6.) if you could choose any place in the world to visit, where would it be? why? 7.) what advice would you give your childhood self? 8.) describe how you envision your ideal life partner? 9.) what is your favorite environmental season? why? 10.) what’s one book you’d suggest every person should read? 11.) what is one song that’s able to bring you to tears? 12.) describe your best friend? 13.) what was the premise of your last dream? 14.) what’s your favorite warm beverage? 15.) name one musical album that greatly impacted your life? why? 16.) what’s your favorite form of flattery? 17.) what’s your favorite painting? and describe how it makes you feel? 18.) describe your personal style? 19.) what was the last concept that inspired you? 20.) who was your very first artistic inspiration? 21.) how long have you used tumblr for? how has your style changed over the years? 22.) what was your first cell phone? 23.) what is your favorite fruit flavor? 24.) whom would you resurrect from the afterlife? which 3 questions would you ask them? 25.) if you could choose only one meal to eat for the remainder of your life, which would you choose? 26.) which of the 7 deadly sins do you struggle with the most? and which the least? 27.) your latest obsession? and why? 28.) if you could domesticate any animal as your pet, which would you choose? 29.) what’s your least favorite smell? 30.) favorite mythological creature? and why? 31.) name a scene from a movie that makes you cringe? 32.) favorite piece of memorabilia you own? 33.) your personal favorite oddity about yourself? 34.) favorite concert/show you’ve attended? 35.) what’s one thing you would tell to the last person who betrayed you? 36.) your favorite mantra to live by? 37.) do you have any strange habits? 38.) what’s your favorite white-noise to fall asleep to? 39.) what is your favorite gemstone? why? 40.) how do you choose to cope when you’re upset? 41.) what are you currently trying to accomplish? 42.) what’s your favorite item you’ve purchased secondhand? 43.) describe your personality is only 3 words? 44.) how is your relationship with your parents? 45.) an instrument you aspire to learn how to play? 46.) relate yourself to one movie character? 47.) least favorite music genre? why? 48.) which animal would you be the most terrified to encounter? 49.) name a public figure you find to be overrated? why? 50.) what purpose do you get out of using tumblr?

[thegreatthreeteratosimp]

The war is over, we've won. That's what they all say at least

That's what you hear in transmissions from your orbiter radio, what Nora says at nighttime, that everyone is still here and alive.

But you know, you helped Lotus with the count, alongside so many tenno and Suda. Even Simaris joined in every now and then. You heard Cressa's report, how the defectors went up, but it was the kavor. So many Grineer are tired of the fighting after it.

You saw Paladinno being sworn in, you were by Cressa's side, because both wished you to, being a Meridian General, and the tenno hero.

The Arbiters are a bit more empty, seats left unfilled, just like how Suda's data scape is a bit dimmer, how Perrin got less monitors and people, New Loka has more plants for their falllen too. Even Simaris is a bit more respectful to everyone.

And oh, Teshin's room... You were there with Varzia, both of you knowing the rites to be made for a warrior who fell in combat. The Orvius you have was used as a stand in for his, in honor of the one who fought, time and time again, and fell on his feet against an unsurmountable foe. Every Tenno is a bit more quiet around it, and it always has flowers.

Most haven't noticed, but even the tenno are changed. They spent years doing guerrilla fights solo, the ones who brought down empires had no choice but to lay low and pick their fights. They all walk now, no more running much less bullet jumping. Tenno were always silent, but now you can't even hear a Rhino's footstep in a silent relay. each step is weighted and every tenno knows it's to leave as soft of a trail as possible.

Every one now has a kitgun, the pax charger arcane being the default, and although they do not use it in the relays, the tenno always keep at least a kitgun and a dagger with them, their usual weapons during the war, for their reliability, power and stealth. The last time you saw then without weapons was at the post war meeting, when you and Lotus got off from your orbiter at am abandoned dojo you had personally scouted shortly before.

Albeit a Tenno protocol breach, every leader from every allied faction was there, from the ostrons and quills to the entrati and even Loid.

You knew the numbers already, you were the one who went over them with the Lotus, holding each other, a mother and her child comforting each other at the sheer size of the numbers.

Civilian casualties were well over 60% of the last know size of them, not counting the missing. Allied factions were well below 50% of their size, with defectors and deaths. But the worst was the tenno casualties. Every death was always greatly felt since all Tenno were family. But this? Well over a few hundred deaths, to the ones who were only in their thousands since the Zariman. A bloodier battle than the old war, knowing how many were gone, and how many decided to retire. Only you and lotus would and had ever known about the ones who retired for their safety, and even among the death count the retired tenno were.

The ones too bruised and broken from war were almost 40% of the tenno death toll, numbers spread amongst the years, and even more names added to your wall, each just as painful as the first.

Even outcasts were invited, and peace brokered. All well beyond tired from the war, Little Duck and Onkko especially, being the ones responsible after local resistances alongside tenno, fighting Tau with void and fear with hope, but you knew.

From the ashes you'd rise, just as the Lotus was reborn from the heat of the sun, you'd make sure they all were. Your trips were more frequent, bringing materials to all factions, and gathering all dog tags you could find along the way. Being there with Lotus, going over numbers of enemies and through allies meetings, even Konzu's early lunch every now and then.

The work was sure to be long and tiring but you were ready. Years in cryo sleep after the Zariman, then the war, Naga Drums and the second dream. All Tenno were fighters by trade, but they all also we're resilient and patient by trade.

[writer-in-theory]

here comes the first step — emily prentiss

request: hi! would you be willing to do an angst emily prentiss x male reader to your prompt "one more night"? maybe based around her Lauren Reynolds arc? summary: emily never thought she’d have to say goodbye to you. but as her cover gets blown as lauren reynolds, there’s nothing left to do. pairing: emily prentiss x male!reader category: angst no happy ending content warnings: none word count: 1.3k a/n: this was requested ages and ages ago by a friend so thank you for the patience it finally got here. also for everyone, i highly recommend listening to "in our bedroom after the war" by stars while reading, it's what i wrote to.

summer of fics masterlist masterlist want to join my taglist?

You knew the moment Emily walked through the front door of your house that it was time to say goodbye. 

Though it had only been a few short months since you started seeing her, the expressions on her face grew to be familiar, easily identifiable. People often asked how you always seemed to know what she was thinking, marking her as practically unreadable. They just hadn’t spent the time you had getting to know her, getting to understand her.

So when Emily walked through the door, a too-wide smile on her face and eyes looking anywhere but at you, it was far too obvious that she intended to never see you again.

“So this is it?” you asked when you ground up the nerve, “You’re done?”

Emily watched you then, dark eyes widening a little in her barely perceptible shock. “How did you—”

“Your real smile is smaller, and this one didn’t make your face light up,” you explained, turning and walking back into the kitchen to continue cooking your dinner. The initial plan had been to make more than one share so you could bring some to the office for lunch, but you supposed it would be okay if Emily had it now instead. “You only make that face when you have to tell me something difficult. We haven’t worked a case together since you started your undercover.”

It was impossible to forget the moment you first met Emily Prentiss. She was a part of the other Interpol team in the area, working mainly with undercover stints and illegal weapons rings. From the moment you saw her, you knew you were in trouble. She wasn’t loud but she carried herself with enough confidence for three people, she was stand-offish at first but once you pushed through she was the funniest, brightest person you had the pleasure to know. Emily was everything a person could possibly be, all wrapped up in one.

“He found out,” Emily sighed, knowing (rightfully) that you would panic.

Because this wasn’t just any target that found out she was Interpol—this was Ian Doyle, an illegal arms dealer with a dangerous reputation. He had supposedly made people disappear and suffer for far less than being an undercover law enforcement officer. Not only that, but the man seemed to have connections everywhere. This was not someone to mess with, and yet instead of fleeing the country immediately, Emily was sharing dinner with you.

“Em, you can’t be here you have to l—” leave. She had to leave. As much as you wanted to keep her around forever, to promise her that the two of you could figure this all out together, you knew the truth of it all. The fact of the matter was, it was too dangerous for both of you to stay here together. You could no longer be the boyfriend she came home to at the end of the night, who she made excuses to Doyle to see. 

And yet, you couldn’t say the word. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how many times your lips tried to form it, the word wouldn’t come out. Because despite knowing it was everything the two of you needed, it was impossible to ever tell Emily to go away.

“I could go with you,” you feebly offered, knowing that wasn’t something you’d realistically do. Because your life was here, your family was here, and the dream job you’d been working toward for years was right here, not wherever Emily was going next. 

Emily always was the pragmatic one. 

“Your life is here,” she sighed, tilting her head a little in the way you always used to love but now made you ache at the thought of never seeing it again. “Let’s not talk about it, while we have tonight.”

“One more night then?” you offered feebly, the only thing left you had to offer the woman of your dreams. 

She hesitated then, one of the few times you ever saw her unsure of anything. You could imagine the thoughts running through her head because they were mirrored in yours, too. Wait, don’t go. You could stay, for longer than a night you could stay forever if you’d have me.

“Okay,” Emily conceded then, standing not for a hug or kiss or anything else you might’ve expected, but rather to gather up the dishes and set them in the sink. She seemed to consider them for a moment like the goodbyes might be delayed by scrubbing at the plates and bowls, but then she sighed and faced you instead. “What do you want to do on our last night then?”

“It doesn’t matter, as long as it’s with you.”

The pair of you ended up in bed together, limbs entwined in a way you weren’t sure you could ever disentangle from. A movie was playing on the TV but neither of you was watching. Instead, your fingers spent time running over the planes of a face you’d never forget while her own were tracing patterns along your arm. Words weren’t needed, not when none of them would have paled in comparison to the emotions running through the scene. So the two of you simply existed in each other's company, holding onto the places you wouldn’t get to touch again.

“Where will you go?” you asked finally, your voice punctuating the air with a harshness that contrasted the barely whispered words.

“My mother thinks I should return to the US,” Emily explained, “there could be a job with the FBI there. It would be different from this but...I could get used to it.”

“The FBI, huh? You know, we could end up working together.” It wasn’t likely, considering your jurisdiction would and forever be in Europe, but weirder things had happened along the course of the job. “Should I pretend we don’t know each other? You know, for safety.”

“Please don’t do that,” Emily countered quickly, a ghost of a laugh on her lips at your momentary bright face. “If, when, we see each other again, we can start from where we left off.”

“Do you really think we’ll see each other again?”

“I do. If we don’t run into each other on the job, then I’ll find you again when it’s safe. I promise you that.”

You’d follow Emily to the ends of the Earth if she asked you, especially when you knew there was nothing that could stop Emily Prentiss. When she found something she wanted, Emily found any way to get it in the end.

So maybe this wasn’t a permanent goodbye, then. Maybe, there’d come a time when you’d see her again—years down the road, when the both of you are a little older, wiser. You could see it then, you on an observation assignment in Paris and her visiting after being through with her latest job. You’d be sitting at a little Parisian cafe when you saw her. You’d look up and she’d be sitting at a table near you, smiling at her phone as her coffee grew cool enough for her to drink.

You would smile too, you’d grab your coffee despite it burning against your fingers. She wouldn’t notice you until you were right on her, and maybe you would have joked about that fact on any other day. Instead, you would simply ask, “Is this seat open?” and she’d smile, and say it was there for you. 

And it wouldn’t quite be like the last night you spent with her, but it would be a beginning, and that would be enough.

GENERAL TAGLIST @samuel-de-champagne-problems @silverhetdanes @ssawonderland @reidsbookclub @katymarie @mrsobrien888 @writingquillsandpainpills @fightingdragonswithreid @lil-stark @raythefaye @stillsleepynat @this-is-doctor-and-its-calm @givemeth @foxy-eva @lilibet261 @exhaleli @darkeunology @nomajdetective @meggie-m00n @delicatespencer @serenity-lattes @goldentournesol @rexorangecouny @sultrypotter @reliefplease @mente-sindescanso @jj76889 @luna-novae @folkreid @nightmarewasteland @luredwithpretzels

ONESHOT TAGLIST @natashxromanovfreads @nano-noa

[technowoah]

THESEUS - a dsmp story ( DreamSMP x Queen!Reader)

CHAPTER FIVE : AND I REALIZE THREE FUNDAMENTAL TRUTHS AT THE EXACT SAME TIME.

Chapter Summary: You had gotten what you wanted, but at what cost? Nightmares ensue, and Dream’s true colors begin to show.

pairing: c!wilbur x queen!reader

an// IM BACK!! hopefully yall like this chaper cause this is the last one that I wrote in the past, Im writing chapter 6 rn so it might take a while. Also sorry for not posting requests I really wanted to get this chapter out there

⚠︎ swearing, dsmp spoliers(?), angst, arguing, smoking, explosions, gaslighting(?), not proofread.

Series Masterlist 

"Good job you two! This is all yours now.”

Dream had led you and Eret back to the castle, all of them still battered and bruised from the war they recently had. You had already taken off your armor and now you were wearing underneath your L'Manburg outfit that was torn and burnt showing some of your skin which was also burnt or cut. You had noticed on the way to the castle that Dream had kept on looking at the outfit that Eret and you had on with disgust, like a taunt.

You could finally relax in the huge castle that you apparently deserved because you and Eret had taken the first lives of the citizens of L'Manburg. In your heart you knew that L'Manburg was still a country. They all have two more lives and they will build the country up again with those two lives. You sighed then kept walking into the throne room. you looked at the two big thrones that sat next to each other. One for a king and one for a queen.

"Why are you standing there? Sit down! Relax!" Dream patted one of the thrones.

You and Eret had sat down on the thrones next to each other looking around the huge throne room and Dream smiling right in front of them. Once you both sat down you tried to sit up straight, but you wanted to slump down into the comfy, plush, velvet and gold chair. The two of them sat on velvet and gold thrones while in burnt and torn L'Manburg uniforms. It was a sight to see, and if someone didn't know the context of what just happened, this scene would've made sense to them.

"I'm happy you did this. You deserve all of this." Dream said while walking along the marble floor.

"It's beautiful, but I'm exhausted." You let your head fall to the side. You sighed wanting Dream to leave so you could finally get some rest.

"I bet."

"Eret are you okay?" You spoke up after Dream.

Eret had a look that you couldn't make out. He just stared off into space in his own mind. He shook his head after you called for him again.

"Yeah, yeah I am fine. I'm just thinking." Eret quickly responded.

"What are you thinking about?" Dream said in a monotone voice.

"If we did the right thing." Eret sighed.

You slowly nodded because you were thinking the exact same thing. They were traitors, you had built somewhat of a connection with those people you helped kill. And now what? you're living in a huge castle and apparently you "Shouldn't be feeling this way", Dream claimed.

"You two are overreacting. They are fine." Dream said bluntly while staring at them with a straight face.

That was a huge lie, their lives were taken today. They're not just “fine”.

"You two were never a part of that place anyways. This is your home! Why would you need to wear those hideous colors? They look bad on you, it's unflattering. There is no need to go back." Dream explained.

You hang your head not knowing what to say to the man, there wasn’t really anything to say but you spoke up hoping the words will come to you.

"I don't-"

"You don't have to say anything, it's okay. You're safe now. Did you get hurt?" Dream asked.

The bruises and scars said differently.

"Remember when I said that?" Dream pushed the question.

You rubbed a burn mark on your wrist and laughed a bit. "No! Actually I don't. We're safe now, but that doesn't mean we aren't hurt." You chuckled in disbelief.

"Well maybe if you listened to me you wouldn't be so anxious. If you listened you wouldn't have been so hesitant. You're safe." Dream said sternly.

"Maybe you're tired, Dream. We're all tired. Shall we go to bed?" Eret stood up and held out his hand to help you up from your seat.

You accepted his hand and started to follow Eret through the huge castle making your way through the huge, high ceiling halls. The three walked towards the king's and queen's room in the castle, Dream kept a slower pace and walked behind the two wanting to get one more word in before leaving the castle.

"If you two are ever in doubt just remember that you are on the right side of history." Dream said then turned around to leave the two alone.

You both stopped and turned around to see Dream’s back facing the both of you as he walked away. You and Eret eventually made it to your new bedrooms. There was a big door which held a huge room made for the both of them to sleep in and two separate rooms next to the bigger door which were made for one person. Eret and you stood in front of the bigger door staring at the intricate designs on the door not speaking to each other.

"So?" Eret laughed.

"So!" You exclaimed while chuckling.

"Are you okay sleeping in that huge room tonight?" Eret asked.

"I'm not totally comfortable with that, but it would be weird if we slept in the same bed. Don't get me wrong! You're a great friend, but-"

"Y/N/N stop! I'm okay with that too. I wasn't looking to sleep in the same bed. Yes we're married, but we're just staying friends, hey we might get a divorce later." Eret explained.

"If I do, we won't be king and queen anymore." You said softly to your husband.

"Is that what you want? To be "queen"?" Eret asked while putting air quotes around the word queen.

You paused for a moment then answered his question.

"I don't know where I'm supposed to be, Eret." You looked up at him sadly and he pulled you in for a hug. It took you everything you had to not cry into the L'Manburg uniform Eret was wearing. Today drained you mentally and physically, your hands were raw from shooting arrows, you had burn marks on your skin and your feet hurt from running through the kingdom. You weren’t sure about where you would go, because this didn't feel like your home.

"Let's go to bed and we'll talk in the morning. Rest on it because I'll happily divorce you so you can find your place in this huge kingdom." Eret laughed and let you out of his arms.

You chuckled and then let him go walking into what was supposed to be the queen's room and right next to it was the king's room which they both walked in after saying goodnight and closing their doors finally having time to themselves after a long day.

You finally took off the L'Manburg uniform and laid it on a velvet chair in the corner of the huge room. You stared at the uniform before going to the nearest closet and picking out something to wear for that night. The queen's room was basically the huge couple's room that you found before, but just with a smaller bed. There were still trinkets, jewelry and even clothes in the closet. you took a nightgown out of the closet and sat on the plush bed. You ended up laying down staring at the high ceiling thinking of the predicament Eret's question brought.

You finally retired for the night and crawled into bed and got under the soft covers. The window was open so a soft cool breeze was blowing through the room letting the curtains flow with the breeze. If you left you wouldn't have anywhere to go except back to L'Manburg, they would never let you back even if you tried. They probably hated your guts by now, so maybe divorcing wasn't a good idea. You had a set home here, you had food, clothes, and you weren't under attack every minute. you didn't have to watch your back for any enemies.

Your mind slowed down as you finally lulled yourself into a deep sleep forgetting the troubles in your mind for only a moment.

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

The sunset fell over the horizon making it a gold, red color. It was beautiful. The trees were illuminated and the lakes had a certain glow to them. you could see mobs began to crawl out of the ground and caves, but you was safe up here.

You looked down and saw the familiar obsidian walls. It seemed like a faint memory, but in reality the walls were real. It was like you could feel the stone underneath your feet at this moment. you could see inside L'Manburg.

you saw Tubbo and Tommy laying in the grass talking to one another. you saw Fundy sleeping in the grass next to them. There were two new faces you had never seen before. It was a woman with short pink hair and another man with a shaved head. It might've been your mind putting people in your dreams to fill space. Then you saw Eret sitting by a small river letting his bare feet flow in the water. It was a peaceful scene.

"Beautiful sunset isn't it?" A voice showed up beside you.

It was Wilbur. He had his uniform on, it was clean like the war didn't even happen.

"It is really beautiful." You agreed watching the sun continue to lower over the trees.

"You know everything the sun touches is yours? It's all of ours. It just so happens that you can see the sunset and sunrise from L'Manburg. You can do anything as long as you see the sun rise and fall." Wilbur said, keeping his gaze soft at the sunset.

You hummed but stayed quiet admiring his words and the sunset.

"Let me tell you what I wish I'd known when I was young and dreamed of glory. You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story. After you took one of my lives away I understand now. You can't control other people and their motivations."

You hang your head in disappointment, but then Wilbur continued.

"But I know that we can win. I know that greatness lies in you, but remember from here on in that history has its eyes on you. History will forever have its eyes on you no matter what you do." Wilbur looked into your eyes as the sun set on the two of them the stars began to shine.

The light brown eyes Wilbur had turned darker because of the sunlight being gone. You looked out back at the mobs in the forest and the huge towers in the sky made the kingdoms members. you turned around and looked into L'Manburg. Or what was considered L'Manburg.

There was no one there anymore, instead of people there were huge amounts of TNT that filled the walls behind them. you could hear faint voices around them, people that you didn't know. It sounded like chaos. you whipped your head around to Wilbur who was dressed in a brown tattered trench coat, brown pants, and a white shirt instead of the L'Manburg uniform.

He had a cigarette in his mouth and matches in his hands. He smirked at you as the voices around you got louder and your head sounded like you were in the middle of a tornado. your head was buzzing as your eyes couldn't focus on Wilbur in front of you. It felt like these moments were happening right in front of your all at one time.

"You want to be a hero Tommy?"

"You know if I die, this country goes down with me."

"if respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing, right?"

"Kill me, Phil. Phil, kill me, Phil kill me! Phil, stab me with the sword, murder me now, kill me! Look-"

"You know Y/N" Wilbur started next to you. He lit a match and turned around to L'Manburg which was now filled with TNT.

"Somethings. Somethings were never meant to be." He threw the match into the huge pile of TNT and all in a second the obsidian underneath your feet disappeared as you fell into the explosion beneath you.

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

"Fuck! Where am I?!" You shot up from your sleeping position in a cold sweat.

You frantically felt around the bed trying to convince yourself that you were physically at the castle in your bed. You finally caught your breath and laid back down in your bed finding yourself staring at the ceiling again. Even with the window open blowing cool air into the room, your skin still felt hot. You ended up tossing the covers off of you and making your way towards the entrance of the kingdom to get some air.

That dream was so much stuff in it you couldn't comprehend all of it. It was like Wilbur was there as if he was talking to you directly and it wasn't a dream and it made you second guess yourself and think that it may have not been a dream. You finally made it outside and sat on one of the steps that led people up into the kingdom. you sighed and breathed in the fresh air and it immediately relaxed your body and mind. You were alive, you were here and sadly Wilbur wasn't there. You closed your eyes and felt the breeze around you until you were startled by a figure beside you.

"You're up late. I thought you said you were mentally tired." Dream chuckled sitting beside you.

"I had a bad dream." You sighed.

"Hey don't take my name in vain like that" Dream laughed trying to bring up your mood.

Dream sighed and stood back up when he didn't get a response from his companion.

"Come one, let's go. Let's get your mind off of the one bad dream." Dream held his hand out, gesturing to you to take it.

You took his hand and then released it letting him lead the way to wherever the wind may take them. The dream is currently still stuck in your head. The voices from different people confused you and made your head spin.

"You want to be a hero Tommy?" What did that mean? Was someone threatening Tommy? Will someone threaten Tommy? You grew to care for that kid.

Who said "If I die, this country goes down with me"? What country. L'Manburg?

"If respect is the only thing protecting you from a knife in the back, then respect is nothing, right?" That one stumped you the most. you didn't even know if this was being spoken to you or to someone else. All of them except for the Tommy one.

Were they all even dreams? The one that haunted your mind the most was the one where someone was telling a man named Phil to kill them. Were you there for that moment? Did Phil kill the person? Who was Phil? All these thoughts and questions plagued your mind so much that your feet mindlessly carried you wherever Dream led you to.

"Here we are." Dream led You on top of a hill, a tall enough hill to see the main attraction. The place you missed the most, L'Manburg.

Tears started to form in your eyes and you tried blinking them away. All the moments of that dream appeared in your brain, but even stronger. you never felt these emotions before. Maybe L'Manburg was your home all along. you missed seeing Tubbo, Tommy, Eret and Fundy doing their own thing while your and Wilbur had a deep talk inside the van. you had spent weeks with them growing too attached to them and then ended up becoming a traitor.

"That place. You never belonged there. You're too good for them." Dream started and you stayed quiet watching the stars begin to disappear.

"Do you trust me?" Dream asked.

You stayed quiet not having the answer he wanted to hear. He wanted to hear you say that you trusted him when in reality you couldn’t, you weren't fully there yet, not anymore. 

"They lied to you. It's not your home." Dream continued on letting you listen and not talk.

"How did you know if someone said it was my home or not?" You asked, startled.

"I might've been keeping an eye on you. I wanted to make sure my flower was okay." Dream kept his gaze on L'Manburg.

"Stop calling me that." You sighed.

"I never started. This was the first time I said that. Who called you flower?" Dream suddenly got serious, staring at you.

you kept your sights on the obsidian walls, not sparing him a glance. The stars began to fade and the sun peeked over the horizon. As they stayed longer the sun rose over the walls of L'Manburg. You started to remember the words in the dream you had.

"You know everything the sun touches is yours? It's all of ours. It just so happens that you can see the sunset and sunrise from L'Manburg. You can do anything as long as you see the sun rise and fall."

L'Manburg stands for independence. Independence. That word kept ringing through your head like a mantra until a few voices below the hill and near the walls alerted you.

"HEY! Hey Wilbur! Give me back my shit!" Tommy yelled as he stomped after the older man.

"Wilbur get Tommy to stop shouting and give him his swords back please!" Fundy yelled trailing behind the two.

"No not until he learns not to go start stabbing shit!" Wilbur yelled back at the other two.

You missed that. you missed the bickering and the nonsense they all shared. you were upset that Tommy still hadn't learned his lesson and you wished you were there beside them at that moment.

Dream spoke up giving you a look you couldn’t quite get. "You are never allowed to step inside those walls again.

"What gives you the right to tell me what and what not to do? Who does that make you? Who do you think-"

"YOU ARE NEVER ALLOWED TO GO IN THOSE WALLS!" Dream yelled getting dangerously close to you.

You continued to stare at those blue eyes as the bright sun rose over the dark walls of L’Manburg. you didn't say anything but descended down the mountain alone with the sounds of Tommy, Fundy, and Wilbur bickering in the background, wishing you were there and not next to the man next to you who was staring at you angrily.

"I know what’s good for you! I know what's good for this country! Just trust me Y/N!" Dream yelled starting an argument

"Would you calm down! You came here to be all quiet and now you're yelling at me. You might want to be quiet before Wilbur hears you. Or do you want me to get him myself?" You yelled back, getting furious.

"Oh you wish! He doesn't care for you as much as me, Sapnap and George do! They agree as well!"

"Don't put words into his mouth!" You accused

"Oh! So if he cares so fucking much he would've help save you. And do you know what would happen if he saved you?! You would've died! I saved you! You were in a perfect situation and all you had to do is not complain! You're always overreacting." Dream ended with a huff and rolled his eyes while turning away..

you were speechless at this point. Overwhelming emotions consumed you. you couldn't believe you were overreacting. Maybe Wilbur wasn't everything you needed. you were overreacting, you were being selfish too. Dream was right. Dream walked over to you pulling you in a hug with L'Manburg was still in your sights.

"I did everything because I love you. You're too precious for them, you're not for them. They don't deserve you, you deserve someone who wants the best for you. A flower that needs a home and I'm here to give it to you." Dream softly explained.

Your eyes kept tearing up at the words and different emotions flowing through you. The sights on L'Manburg make your memories and questions come back. Where did you belong? But more importantly who was telling the truth?

Taglist: @hi-imuwu @k-l-a-w-s

[baroquebucky]

protective

a/n: here is the little Drabble i made based off these headcanons!! sorry if it’s messy i wrote this w no sleep LOL

Timothée rarely got jealous, mainly because you guys rarely went out, and anywhere you went everyone knew you were timothées and he was yours. The two of you always cuddling on each other or dancing together, looking like love sick puppies.

“let’s go to the party tonight! It’ll be fun mon amour i promise!” Timothée stood in front of the tv, blocking your view of the movie you were watching. Furrowing you’re bored you paused the movie, looking up at your boyfriend. “Timothée please, im trying to watch a movie” you pouted and he rolled his eyes, refusing to move.

“It’ll be fun angel! We can party with all of our friends and dance and get tipsy” he spoke, giving you a small smile. You groaned, knowing he wasn’t gonna stop until you gave in.

“Tim if you wanna go so badly then you should go! I wanna just stay in and watch some movies” you sighed, trying to shove your boyfriend out of the way, pressing play on the remote once again.

“what are you even watching?” Timothée sighed, plopping himself next to you and looking at the screen, quickly recognizing the movie. “Star Wars? You’re turning down a party for Star Wars?” He smirked at you and you smiled.

“it’s good! You just don’t care enough to watch it” You smiled shyly and he chuckled, quickly moving to cuddle up to your side. You glanced down at timothée watching the movie with little to no interest, mainly by your side only for cuddles.

“fine, let me find something to wear i guess” you mumbled, he quickly got off you, shouting in triumph and kissing you all over the face, “I’m not dressing up, all you’re getting out of me are some jeans and one of your old button up shirts” you replied sharply, and he only smiled, already swooning at the thought of you in his clothes.

As you quickly changed into the clothes timothée texted his friends, informing them that he would be on his way shortly, rushing to get changed while you did your makeup haphazardly. Timothée finished getting ready before you did, he sat on the couch and scrolled through his phone while he hummed along to the music coming from the bedroom. Soon enough you emerged wearing one of his silky button up shirts, tucked into some black skinny jeans and some white converse, you makeup was simple and you had barely put any thought into the outfit yet timothée still had the wind knocked out of him when he saw you.

“God you’re so fucking beautiful” he muttered, quickly getting off the couch and wrapping you in his arms, kissing your forehead as you blushed. Of course before heading out he took pictures of you, some of you in his arms in the mirror, setting them as your lockscreen and replacing the one of only him you had.

As you arrived to the party timothée was quickly greeted by his many co workers and friends, making small talk with everyone. Your fingers were intertwined and you smiled politely at everyone, suddenly feeling out of place considering you weren’t very close with anyone here.

As timothée talked to one of his friends you tried to listen to what they were talking about, quickly getting lost when your eyes wandered around the club, eyes landing on the bar. The conversation had shifted onto the topic of a possible casting, timothée was talking excitedly, letting go of your hand in order to move his hands around while he explained something.

Too shy to interrupt you quietly slipped away, heading to where the bar was and ordering yourself a water, slouching in the comfortable chair and closing your eyes for a bit, enjoyin the feeling of the loud bass vibrating throughout your body.

Of course until someone interrupted the immaculate vibe. “well hello” the young man spoke as he slid into the seat beside you. You didn’t recognize him, maybe he was someone’s plus one or just some rich person, you didn’t really care. “hi” you smiled politely, turning back and facing your water bottle.

“not in the mood for drinks?” He pushed and you shook your head, “didn’t wanna really come in the first place” you replied, facing the man as you talked so you didn’t seem disrespectful. He gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Im sure you’ll have a great time” he replied, scooting closer, you gave him a small smile. “nah i doubt it but you know how it is” you chuckled nervously, drinking some more of your water, looking around for timothée.

“did you come alone?” He pressed, his hand brushing against your arm, you quickly moved it out of his way. “No I’m here with my boyfriend actually, timothée chalamet? You know him? Academy award nominee?” You spoke, boasting about your boyfriends status in hopes of scaring him off.

“I’ve heard of him yeah, must be an idiot to leave you alone though” he smirked, you felt your stomach drop.

“he can be dumb at times but he’s actually very smart” you defended, heart racing.

“ma cherie! There you are” timothée laughed breathily as he approached the two of you, you let out the breath you were holding, smiling at your beautiful boyfriend.

“timothée! I was just talking about you!” You smiled, he wrapped his arms around your waist, immediately sending your discomfort, he kissed the top of your head, and stared at the man next to you. “All good things i hope” he joked, the man simply rolled his eyes.

“how about you and i get out of here for a bit? He obviously disregards your needs, can’t imagine what he’s like in bed” the man snickered, his hand reaching for your thigh.

Timothée was quick move infront of you and grab ahold of his wrist, holding it tightly mid air. “You make one more move and you’re gonna regret it buddy” he spoke in a low voice, his jaw clenching as his grip loosened.

You quickly got out of the chair, timothée stood in front of you, blocking you from the mans view. The man rolled his eyes, mumbling something you couldn’t hear. What you did hear though was a low growl from timothée before his fist connected with the mans face, his nose bleeding.

“Timothee!” You screeched, hands flying over your mouth. The man stumbled back, a small smile on his face, “that’s all you got? You punch like a bitch! Just like your little toy!” He laughed, spurring timmy on, of course he fell for it, punching him once more, which caused the man to fall of the ground, wincing in pain.

Timothées cheeks were flushed in rage, “don’t you fucking dare talk about her like that” he growled, his voice low and intimidating. His posture was much more tense now, enough to intimidate anyone in the room. Despite the lack of muscle on him, the way timmy carried himself exuded powerful, people moved out of his way when he walked, some too scared to look into his eyes until he became his shy, sweet self. But right now there was no trace of the person who chuckled every other word because he was nervous.

He grabbed the man by the arm, lifting him up quickly, you could see the bruise forming on his cheek, “apologize. Now.” He demanded, the man quickly rushed out an “im sorry” timmy let him go, the man stumbled back before running towards the exit.

Timmy turned towards you, his face softening the moment he saw you. “Oh baby I’m so sorry i left you alone” he spoke softly, quickly pulling you into his chest and hold you tightly. He pushed you off him slightly, looking over you to see if anything was wrong with you.

“it’s okay I’m fine angel” you smiled back weakly, now realizing everyone was looking at the two of you, you shifted uncomfortably under their gazes, timothée quickly took note.

“how about we go home okay?” He smiled softly at you and you nodded, he grabbed your hand and the two of you left quickly, not saying goodbye to anyone.

You let the cool New York air hit your flushed skin, letting out a small sigh as you headed to the car. “Why didn’t you tell me where you were going?” He asked, looking at you with concerned eyes.

“you were so invested in your conversation and it was a potential role, i don’t wanna hinder your career” you replied as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Timothee stopped walking, looking at you in disbelief.

“what?” He looked at you puzzled, you sighed and looked up at the sky before looking back at your boyfriend. “Timothée youre surrounded by people who are famous and worth millions, you have friends who actually know what it’s like to live like you! I have no idea what that’s like and it makes me feel so out of place when we go to things like this!” You replied anxiously, afraid of how he would retaliate.

“out of place?” he emphasized, brows furrowing as his eyes scanned your face for a moment.

You quickly crossed your arms over your chest, shifting your weight onto one leg, “yes out of place, i don’t know what the fuck you guys are talking about half the time, I’m not famous like you! I’m just kinda there while you guys discuss all your actor things, obviously im gonna feel out of place” you huffed.

Before he could even reply you turn away from him, beginning to walk to the car, “just forget it lets just go home” you spoke, walking quickly to the car and leaving your boyfriend dumbfounded behind you.

After a couple seconds timothée caught up with you, processing what you had said and thinking back to all the things he had unintentionally disregarded you next to him while he spoke of acting, directors or other things regarding his career.

He remembered how the one time you had taken him to a little party for your work he had gotten upset because there you were talking with your co workers about who know what, and he stood there awkwardly, not knowing what to do and just wanting to go home.

Suddenly it was like he was being flooded with emotions; guilt, sadness, anger, and a mix of emotions he couldn’t describe.

You were waiting for him in the passenger seat already, he quickly got in the drivers seat, not turning the car on yet.

“mon amour im sorry that you felt like that, i should’ve realized sooner what i was doing” he spoke, looking at you, his eyes were soft and he had a small frown on his face. You sighed and looked at him, giving him a tight smile.

“it’s fine let’s just go home” you sighed, he shook his head quickly. “no! it’s not fine! I’ve been so careless and i just disregard you all the time and i don’t even realize! what kind of boyfriend am i? Im so sorry baby” he spoke, running his hands through his hair as he looked at the steering wheel.

“timothée i know you don’t mean it, you just get really passionate when you talk about acting, its sweet at times, just not when I’m surrounded by a bunch of famous people” you chuckled softly and he smiled a little.

“how can you just forgive me like that” he spoke, a smile on his face while he gently shook his head. You shrugged your shoulders, “i know you never meant to, and plus the moment you realized that i was uncomfortable you always do something to include me or we just go talk to someone else” he giggled a little, because yeah he accidente cut off one or two of his idols for the sake of your comfort.

“and plus, no ones ever punched a guy in the face twice for me” you smirked and he groaned, a little smile on his face. “you’re never letting that go huh” he chuckled, you shook your head and he let out a sigh, turning the car on.

“in my defense he very much deserved it” he quipped, a grin playing on his lips and you smiled at the curly headed boy, your heart swooning at his soft expression.

Yeah, timothée had some flaws, but the moment he realized he had them he tried his absolute best to fix them. Especially if they hurt your feelings because he loved you so much he would punch any guy any day for your sake.

[jumbojamba47]

Guest Room

A/N: This is my very first fanfic and I really don't know what possessed me to write it. I was listening to this song https://open.spotify.com/track/4RzHA75rhs3mXnoI4aJSMt?si=sSeaV0zAQgGuteRzEOiZJw and the idea just wouldn’t leave me alone and well... desperate times, desperate measures. Taking things into my own hands and all that jazz. I highly recommend giving the song a listen while reading. I hurt my own feelings writing this. I wrote this from a female perspective but it can be read as gender neutral.  (image not mine)

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x Reader, Slight Wanda Maximoff x Reader, Stucky 

Warnings:18+, Angst, NSFW-ish, Alcohol Consumption, Swearing, Unedited

Word Count: 3680

A sharp gasp fills the air as heated skin meets cold tile. Slender fingers curl and uncurl; tugging at your scalp from above. Your name reverently whispered through kiss-swollen lips as if in prayer. Muffled grunts and moans escape from clenched teeth as though afraid that any louder sound might halt your ministrations. Rivulets of water, long-since gone cold, rush down your bodies, pooling where you knelt in worship of the red-headed angel in front of you. Despite the ache in your limbs and your own needs screaming for attention, you remained steadfast in your determination to push Natasha over the edge as many times as you were able. You knew, these private moments of intimacy were the closest you could ever get to keeping the elusive beauty in your arms tethered to you.

It all started with a mission in Bogotá. The two of you had completed the objective but had to wait for extraction overnight in a safehouse with one master room and a smaller guestroom.

“You can go ahead and have the bigger room (y/n/n). Odin knows you did most of the heavy lifting this time around,” she said with a chuckle as she stepped into the guest room.

“There’s a big enough bed, you could always join me Romanoff,” you joked with a wink.

Later that night you were unwinding in bed when you heard a knock on your door.

“Coming!” You yelled, pulling the door open.

“Need someth-” your eyes widened as you felt soft lips meld against your own.

She pulled away.

“What are you doing?” You asked, bewildered.

“Taking you up on your offer,” she pushes you towards the bed with a cheeky grin.

That was 6 months ago. Since then, you felt a subtle shift in your relationship with Natasha. Whilst around the others her interactions with you drifted towards a platonic aloofness that, while not cold, alluded to nothing of the times you found yourself unceremoniously shoved into a supply closet or pressed into a locked conference room door; always faced with an eager red-head ready to pick up where you last left off. Each time, your hidden trysts end just as quickly as they begin with Natasha immediately straightening her appearance and slipping out the door as soon as she made sure the coast was clear. Each time, you felt your heart crack a little more as you felt the phantom weight of her lithe body in your arms as you stood alone watching her quick movements.

Now you find yourself kneeling on the floor of the assassin’s shower after she dragged you in following a heavy morning training session. Your hands grip the back of toned thighs as the burning in Natasha’s core reaches its crescendo.

Through the open door leading into her bedroom, you hear F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice ring out, “Mr. Stark is requesting your presence to go over tonight’s details in 30 minutes, Ms. Romanoff.”

Breathless, chest heaving, she responds, “I’ll be there.”

Rising from the floor, your arms circle around her to reach for the removable showerhead while steadily supporting the still shuddering woman. You gently maneuver the water to rinse away the last of the soap and lingering fluids from both your bodies. It was only in these quiet moments after a rendezvous in a more private setting that Natasha allowed you to indulge in your more tender proclivities without protest as she settles down from her high. You shut the water off before swiftly stepping out and wrapping a towel around your body. You grab a secondary towel and take more care in drying off Natasha’s body, pressing into her skin ensuring you gently knead her sore muscles with firm hands as you go. Once satisfied, you wrap her body snugly, bring your arms around her back and beneath her legs and carry her into her room, lightly setting her on the edge of her bed before moving to her closet. Turning your head slightly to ask what she’d like to wear, you think you see a flicker of something soft in her eyes, but, just as quickly, it’s gone only to be replaced by a teasing smirk as her eyes trail up and down your towel-clad form.

“Keep treating me like this and I might just have to make you mine,” she husks out.

“I wish you would…,” you mumble under your breath. But the assassin catches it and lets out a sigh. She stands and smoothly pads closer to you laying a hand on your shoulder.

“You know I can’t.”

“I really don’t.”

She steps away from you. Her hand drops to her side as she moves to rummage in her closet. You move to grab your own day clothes from your discarded gym bag. Dropping the towel to pull on a matching set of black lace undergarments, she turns to you. And fuck, it’s not fair of her to stand there underdressed as she is when you want to have a serious conversation with her.

“This?” her finger points between you and her, “is just casual sex. We’re scratching an itch and it can’t be more than that.”

“But why not?” you ask as your pull on your shirt.

“Why are you so afraid to give us a try?”

She slams her drawer shut. “I’m not afraid of anything!” she growls.

“You? Me? We’re nothing. There is nothing to try. You’re a good fuck (y/l/n) but that’s all this can be. If you’re not satisfied with that then tough shit, I’m sorry.”

Jaw clenched; you look her in the eyes.

“Yeah, I’m sorry too,” you grit out.

You grip your bag tightly and exit the room without looking back. Carelessly, you toss your bag into your room down the hall without breaking your stride. Pausing at the end of the hallway, “Shit,” you exhale under your breath, running a hand down your face.

You make your way into the common room only to find Steve and Bucky staring at the large flat screen in confusion, a cartoon depiction of a sea sponge competing with a starfish, seemingly attempting to win the affections of his grandmother? Or was that an anthropomorphic cookie? With a heavy sigh you plop yourself down on the couch between them, kicking your legs up onto Steve’s lap and laying your head in Bucky’s. Cool metal fingertips softly run along your temples in a soothing massage as both men turn to you in mildly concerned curiosity.

Upon release from Shuri’s custody, Bucky found himself immediately accosted by you and your self-appointment as the one in charge of his rehabilitation into polite society. Refusing to leave his side outside of mandatory missions, Steve, by default, wound up lumped into your “educational excursions” and “lessons in everything a modern person of refined taste-no-fuck-you-Tony-your-opinion-doesn’t-count-you-raised-yourself-on-a-steady-diet-of-debauchery-and-sin would enjoy”. The prolonged exposure to your generally sunny disposition led to both men silently agreeing to adopt you under their wing; and so, your Brooklyn Boys became fiercely protective over you, often drawing comparisons of co-parenting mother hens hovering over their tiny chick from your amused teammates.

“Why the sigh, malen’kiy d’yavol?” grunts Bucky.

You stare blankly at the ceiling as Steve gently rubs circles around your ankle with his thumb. Turning your head to bury your face into the ex-soldier’s warm stomach, a muffled “Am I unlovable?” leaves your mouth in a broken whisper.

Your quiet words are picked up by their enhanced hearing and they share quick perturbed glances. Bucky moves his arm under you, pulling you into his lap, drawing you close, ensuring your head is tucked securely into his neck just below his chin. Steve moves with him so he can maintain a comforting hold on your legs over his.

“Anyone would be lucky to have you doll. If anyone is worthy of love it’s you,” Steve tells you with confidence.

“I’m gonna kill Romanoff,” you hear Bucky grumble under his breath to Steve, thinking you couldn’t hear him.

Your fingers clench around the pocket of Bucky’s sweater. Your boys knew. Of course they did. You couldn’t hide your affection for the Black Widow from them if you tried. While the others might be able to write off your attention to the stunning Venus as simple admiration for a fellow teammate, they knew just how deeply your true feelings ran.

“Then why doesn’t she want me?” Tears gather at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

Steve exhales slowly and looks back to the screen in front of him.

“No one really knows what’s going on in that head of hers, but your happiness is our priority right now. You deserve the world and if she can’t see that then that’s her loss,” he nudges his boyfriend.

Arms tightening around you, Bucky nods his head in agreement.

“The old man is right. How about the three of us go take your mind off things?” Slowly standing, he pulls you up to your feet.

“You can help me find Steve an outfit for tonight. I’m sure with a little convincing, we can get the Star-spangled Man with a Plan to wear a patriotic tie the whole night.” He winks at you as you let out a small snort.

“Go ahead. Laugh it up. One of these days you’re going to need to know something about war bonds and we’ll see who’s laughing then,” he retorts with a roll of his eyes.

xxxx

Glancing at your reflection in the mirror, you adjusted the sleeveless button-up with detached cuffs, leaving enough buttons undone to reveal a plunging neckline, before tucking it into your high-waisted form-fitting black pants. In a bid to pull yourself out of your funk, you decided to go all out for tonight’s festivities. You slip on a pair of black shoes, give your outfit one final check, nodding to yourself, and make your way out the door.

Tonight, Tony saw fit to throw a good luck party for your first long-term recon mission with you leading your own team before you left the next morning. As you made your way to the large gathering you steeled yourself for the impending emotions that would inevitably hit you as soon as you saw the face that had been plaguing your dreams nearly every night since that fateful mission.

“Eyes up, (y/l/n). You’re made of stronger stuff than this. If she doesn’t want you then don’t waste your time. You’re worth more than this,” you say to yourself as you stride towards the double doors.

You straighten your shoulders, draw yourself up to your full height, and confidently step into the gathering.

“There she is! The hero of the hour! Give it up for our very own (y/hero/n).” Tony struts towards you; your favorite drink already outstretched in his hand.

He claps you in the back and slings an arm over your shoulders leading you towards the crowd as you hear cheers from the party goers in attendance.

“Soak it up buttercup. All this is for you. Feels good doesn’t it?”

Your eyes drift to the side where you see Natasha in a black cocktail dress flirting with another attendee, her eyes glance at you before turning her attention back to her companion. You swallow the sharp sting of pain threatening to rise and mentally give yourself a shake.

“You’ve really outdone yourself this time Tony, let’s party!” you exclaim with more enthusiasm than you can bring yourself to feel.

He gives you his biggest grin, “Now that’s what I like to hear!”

He steers you through the crowd, you both pause to greet various members of the party as you recognize your friends and coworkers before leading you to Steve and Bucky who are seated on a pair of loungers across from Wanda and Rhodey.

“Hey Mama Bear, Papa Bear, here’s little Baby Bear. Make sure you keep an eye on them. I saw more than a few vultures in the crowd who looked ready to steal them away at a moment’s notice.” He sauntered away with a wink.

“Looking good dollface,” Steve grins at you.

Bucky and Rhodey are quick to agree. Across the way you see Wanda raking her eyes up and down your body with hooded lids. Making eye contact, you wink, she blushes at being caught before sending you a shy smile.

As the night goes on and drinks are consumed, you continue to laugh with your friends. You’ve moved to the opposite couch next to Wanda as Rhodey takes up the space in the middle of your group to reenact the night Tony, black out drunk, stumbled into the RA’s room instead of their shared dorm back in college.

Unable to hold yourselves up from laughing so hard, you and Wanda lean into each other for support.

Suddenly the main light dim and colorful strobe lights fill the room. You feel a heavy bass begin the thump through your chest and a drunken Wanda yells, “I LOVE THIS SONG!” She leans into your side and whispers “come dance with me,” into your ear.

Grinning widely, you nod your head and let yourself be pulled up and led to the dance floor amid cheers and wolf whistles from your friends. Immediately spinning around, Wanda presses her backside against your front, slowly dragging her hands up and into your hair. You lean forward, your hands finding a comfortable grip on her hips, pulling her closer, guiding her movements.

Across the room, Natasha watches you grind together, her jaw clenches. She throws back another shot. Behind the bar, Clint shifts his eyes from her angry form to you.

“You know, if you really like them that much you might want to head over there and stake your claim.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Tasha. I’d like to think I know you better than most.”

She gives him a quirk of an eyebrow and her best side-eye.

“Okay so I may have been crawling through the vents when I saw you all but crawling up their body like it’s a ladder in Conference Room A,” he huffs out with a roll of his eyes.

She stiffens.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I think it does. Now, I don’t know why you’re trying to pretend like I don’t catch you staring at them whenever you think no one else is looking. But are you going to go over there and get what’s yours or are you just going to sit here and watch them fall into the arms of someone else?”

“They’re not my anything,” she mumbles into her glass, “They’re a big kid. They can decide to screw whoever They want.”

Clint shakes his head but says nothing more. They both watch as Wanda turns in your arms, wrapping her own around your neck, slotting her leg between yours, drawing even closer. Growing bold, she begins to press kisses along your neck leading up to your ear. You tilt your head back giving her further access as you continue to move to the rhythm.

“You know, she’s assigned to go on that mission with (y/n). With an undetermined timeline, who knows how long she’ll have to make (y/n) her-”

With a loud clink, Natasha throws back her last shot and slams it down on the countertop. Without giving Clint a chance to finish his sentence, Natasha finds herself pushing through the crowd towards you and Wanda. She’s a woman on a mission as she wraps her hand around your arm pulling you from Wanda’s grasp and without looking back, she drags you towards her room. She ignores your protests as she kicks her door open before pushing you against the wall and pressing her lips to yours in a heated kiss.

Stunned, your lips move against hers before your alcohol addled brain catches up to what’s happening. Your hands find her shoulders as you gently push her away and make space between the two of you. Confusion clouds your features as she hungrily stares at you while hastily slipping down the straps of her dress.

“Nat? What the fuck?”

“Shut up,” she growls, before attacking your lips again.

“No,” comes out of your mouth in a muffled groan. You push her away harder this time.

“What the hell are you doing?” You stare at her incredulously.

“I’m trying to have a little fun before you take off. What? Are you waiting for a formal invitation?”

You scoff in disbelief. “No. No no no. I’m not doing this with you Natasha.”

“Doing what?” She stares at you with furrowed brows.

“This! This fucked up charade of you claiming you don’t have any feelings for me!”

“I don’t! We’re just friends who like to have a little fun sometimes, (y/n/n).”

“Are you fucking kidding me? Do you think I’m stupid or are you just blind?! Friends don’t look at each other the way I look at you! Friends don’t get jealous when they see their “friend” with someone else then proceed to drag them away to stake their claim!” You’re beyond angry. Sick of feeling like a yoyo constantly tugged up and down and thrown away in boredom.

“Well what do you want me to say?”

“TELL ME I MEAN SOMETHING TO YOU! TELL ME THAT EVERY MINUTE I SPEND PRAYING TO ANYONE WHO’LL HEAR ME FOR EVEN AN IOTA OF YOUR AFFECTION ISN’T A WASTE OF BREATH!” Tears are streaming down your face. You bite back a sob as you draw your arms around yourself in a protective hold.

“Tell me you feel the same way I do,” you whisper as your voice cracks.

Tears in her own eyes, “I can’t,” Natasha exhales without making eye contact.

Slowly, you nod.

“Okay.”

Your eyes trace over her face one last time.

You turn and as she hears your footsteps head towards the door, her head snaps up.

“Where are you going?” She rushes out with hesitation coating her voice.

“I’m leaving.”

She reaches out a hand, but you step away.

Undeterred, “No, stay we can still talk things out as friends.” She implores.

Coldly, you make eye contact.

“You made it perfectly clear this morning, Natasha. We’re nothing.”

She chokes on a whimper.

With a stiff nod you exit her room and with a slam of her door, you’re gone.

       Unbeknownst to you, Natasha drops to her knees.

xxxx

You head down the hall angrily wiping the tears away from your eyes. You refuse to spare any more of your heart for someone who clearly couldn’t care less whether or not it breaks.

Trying to hold on to Natasha feels like attempting to cup smoke in your bare hands. A fruitless endeavor. You were never one to bet on a losing game.

You swing your door open only to be met with Steve and Bucky grinning and ready to help you pack for your mission and rib on you about your impending time with Wanda.

Their smiles immediately drop when they take in your tear-stained face. Both men rush to your side and draw you into their arms, holding you between them. Your boys could feel their hearts shatter as they listened to your broken stops. If the sound of your cries could hurt them this much, they couldn’t fathom how you yourself were feeling.

“We’re here, Kroshka, what do you need?”

You whimpered and buried yourself further into their hold.

“That’s enough,” you sniffled.

After a moment, you pulled away drawing yourself together.

“I’m done with her,” you state.

They both nod.

“When you’re back, we’ll make sure you never have to be alone with her again,” Steve asserts with a nod of finality.

You send them both a grateful look as they begin to help you gather everything you’ll need to last at least 2 months.

xxxx

It’s early morning when Clint finds Natasha in the gym Sweat drips down from her hairline as she takes out every emotion she refuses to acknowledge on the innocent training dummy.

“What are you doing here? I thought you’d be in the hangar sending off your new boo with a kiss?”

“Not my anything,” she grunts, punctuated with a roundhouse kick to the dummy’s jugular.

“You literally pulled a scene from a rom-com out of your ass, dragging (y/l/n) away from their own party AND your rival in love, and they’re STILL not yours?” He levels her with his most disapproving, disappointed dad stare.

“Fuck off Clint, I’m not in the mood.”

“Well a little birdy told me that Wanda is extra excited for this chance to ask (y/n) on a proper date after they’re back”

“Not my problem. If they want to open their legs to the first person that offers, let them.”

“Wow. Harsh. What happened?”

She delivered a sharp jab to the dummy’s solar plexus.

“They said we’re nothing.”

“That couldn’t have come from nowhere.”

She pauses her movements and looks away.

“I told them we’re nothing.”

“Nat…”

“They deserve better, Clint,” her voice wobbles.

“You deserve happiness too Tasha. You deserve them.” He pulls her into a tight hug.

Her eyes clench shut attempting to keep her tears at bay.

“I fucked up… didn’t I?”

“Yeah… you really did,” he looks up at the ceiling and sighs.

“Quinjet leaves in 5. If you hurry you should still be able to catch them.

She immediately takes off and he watches the door swing shut behind her.

“Go get ‘em, kid. We’re rooting for ya.”

xxxx

Almost running past the hangar doors, Natasha skids to a stop and pushes her way into the room.

She ignores the technicians yelling for her to clear the runway as she breaks into a sprint towards where she hears the sound of supplies being loaded onto a quinjet.

With an energy boost fueled by a fear she never knew she could feel, she speeds around the corner, drawing in a breath ready to scream your name.

Only to come to a stop.

She’s too late.

The jet pushes off the ground for takeoff.

She falls to her knees.

A broken whimper escapes her lips.

[hollanderfangirl]

The Anniversary

A/N: Just a little something I wrote today. Sorry it's so short, I wrote it all in one go.

Warnings: none really, just a little angst and mention of death.

Second of May. It was a special day for Harry and y/n. At least Harry thought so. It was their one year anniversary. One whole year of being together. One whole year of love. One whole year of forever. Harry wanted to celebrate, because obviously it was a special day, for both of them. Y/n had been acting strange, well not strange exactly. But just…..sad and disturbed. Harry couldn't make out the reason. He thought maybe it was just one of those days when she had a lot of work. But he intended to change that. He was going to take her out, relax and make her feel like the most special girl out there. He walks over to the kitchen, where she was cooking pasta. He wraps his arms around her waist.

"Aah," she flinches.

"Babe it's just me"

"You just startled me," she turns around and he cups her cheeks with his hands.

"You okay?"

"Yeah I'm fine"

"So do you want to go out tonight?"

"Why?"

"You- you don't remember?"

"Of course I remember.. What's there to celebrate in that?"

"What do you mean what's there to celebrate? It's a special occasion!" Harry exclaims.

"Special?? Special? Are you serious right now?! What is special about it?" Harry noticed she had a few tears in her eyes now. "It was one of the most painful experiences of my life, I'm never going to get over it!"

Harry was so confused and hurt. He didn't understand what was going on, he wondered if they were even talking about the same thing.

"I- I don't understand"

"There's nothing to understand," She starts to walk away but he holds her hand.

"Baby, please tell me if I did something, I- if I hurt you, just don't say things like that"

"I just need to be alone, Har, just for today"

Harry began worrying, if she was going to break up with him. He went through every single detail over the past year, wondering where it went wrong. What had he done that made her say their relationship was the most painful experience of her life? Harry would never cause her pain, never, he loved her too much.

He forgot all about the reservations and the plans, they just looked like distant memories now.

Then he remembered that she was with her sister the previous day. He thought maybe they had a fight or something because of which she was sad. And she was taking it out on him.

He quickly called y/n's sister, and she picked up after half a minute.

"Harry why are you calling right now-"

"Listen, did you and y/n have a fight?"

"No, why?"

"She's acting so weird, I just wanted to take her out for our anniversary and she said our relationship was the most painful experience of her life. I don't understand. Why would she say that?" He could feel his own voice cracking as he started to tear up.

"Anniversary? Today?"

"Yeah"

"Are you sure this was the day you asked her out?"

"Why of course I'm sure! How will I ever forget the date"

"Harry….today is also the death anniversary of our grandfather"

"What?"

"Yes. I'm sure she must have told you about it, she was just six years old when it happened"

"Yeah yeah I know. But I didn't know that was today"

"She was very attached to grandad, you know? I don't remember much because I was just a baby but our grandparents literally raised y/n, our parents used to be out of town, so they left her with them"

"Yeah she has told me. God I feel like a dick, I told her we should go out and celebrate, of course she misinterpreted that"

"It's alright, just go and talk to her"

"Will do"

Harry immediately runs to their shared bedroom and finds y/n laying on the bed, curled up into a ball.

"Y/n?"

No response.

"Y/n baby, listen to me," He gets onto the bed, and gently rubs her back. "I'm so sorry, I'm so stupid I didn't even realise. It's….it's our one year anniversary too today, you know?"

At that, she turns around and sits up.

"What? That's today?"

"Yeah, one year ago I managed to bring up the nerve to ask you out and I'm so glad I did"

"Oh my god," She puts her hand on her forehead. "I can't believe I forgot about that"

"It's okay"

"No it's not. If it was the other way around, if you forgot our anniversary, I would have been furious"

"But today is something else too"

"Yeah, that"

"I think we had a misunderstanding with our last conversation, yeah?"

"Oh god," She laughs. "I was talking about grandad while you were talking about us?"

"It's okay, we can celebrate some other day"

"When?"

"Hmm let me think"

"How about fourth of May? That's two days from now"

"Why the fourth specifically?"

"Well it's Star Wars Day. May the fourth be with you??"

Harry chuckles.

"Okay, love. Now Star Wars Day is our anniversary"

"I love you so much, Harry," She moves closer to him and hugs him tight.

"I love you too," He says kissing her forehead.

Taglist-

@tombob2005 @fallinfortom @spidey-reids-2003 @halfblood-princess-505 ​ @notsosmexy @icyhollands @soft-petey @ladykxxx08 @purpleskiesstorm ​ @theamazingtomholland ​ @im-salt-but-not-salty ​ @musicalkeys ​ @call-me-baby-gir1 ​ ​@whatthefuckimbisexual @theliterarymess @bishhhh ​ @tenebrous-lacuna ​

(I had made this list just randomly selecting my closest mutuals, so if anyone wants to be removed please don't hesitate to tell me! This also goes for if anyone wants to be added)

[infinitegalahad]

I’ll Make A Man Out Of You (Ch.1)

Summary: To save your ailing brother from the war, you disguise yourself as a man to fight in the war. There you met Eugene Roe, a Cajun medic. The two of you grow close to each other, but at what cost? A story of bravery, the harshness of war, bravery, friendship, and love.

Word Count: 10.1k

Warnings: N/a

A/N: I do NOT know how the hell I wrote this and how it turned out this long. What started as a dream escalated into a google doc of 10k words. I apologize in advance; this is my first BoB fic and not beta-read. I decided to show some good old love for my Eugene boy by not doing my schoolwork and writing this mess. I hope to finish this fic by the end of the year (or month even). The other chapters won't be as long. Hope you Enjoy! ;)

It all started with a damned flyer.

Your thumb played with the scrunched edge. In bolded blue and the red letters it read,

"I want YOU for The U.S. Army. Enlist NOW!"

Uncle Sam, an American figure, pointed in your face. A small smile appeared on your face as it reminded you of your twin brother, Jack.

-----

You'll never forget the day of December 7th. Your mother had woken you and your brother up. Pearl Harbor had just been bombed. Even when the world felt like it was falling apart, your parents sent you to school. Jack and his friends wouldn't shut up about it. Every class you had, whether it was physics or Algebra two, talked about the bombings. America didn't intervene in the war with Europe. One of the girls in your Algebra class Nancy, was talking with her clique.

"There's no way they can do it!" A girl cried, "They can't send our men over!"

Nancy twirled a pencil in her fingers, "They can! The Japs declared war on us. My brothers are too young, but I'm sure my dad's gonna enlist. Every man has gotta do so."

Nancy had a point. It was so bizarre to you that the war had come to your shores now. You knew once you got home, your parents wouldn't stop talking about the war. After all, it was history in the making. The bell had rung, and you grabbed your books, heading out the door to meet up with Jack and his friends. Your twin brother and you were close to anything in the world. Jack was your best friend. Sure, at times, he could be a doofus, but he was everything to you. The two of you were only inseparable. You and Jack met up in the hallway, along with his friends Frank and Harry. Frank and Harry couldn't shut up about how excited they were to fight the Japanese. Frank said he was gonna make sure to bring his swiss blade with him, just in case.

The minute you walked out of the school building, posters were being shoved into your face. It was all too much to take in at once. Men dressed in green uniforms flooded the school and town. Picking up the posters, you noticed that they were drafting signs in colorful colors. They ranged, saying, "Want Action? Join the U.S. Marine Corps" or "Smack 'Em Down! Fly High With The U.S. Marines". Pearl Harbor had been bombed only eight hours ago, and draft posters were already in your small town. Jack dragged you back home as you ran into the house. Your father and mother, who were usually keeping the cows milked and crops growing, were glued to the small T.V. screen. Your father had left a newspaper on the couch. Reading the headline, your heart dropped.

"U.S. DECLARES WAR ON JAPAN"

Not even a day had gone by, and now there was a war and an apparent draft.

------

A week had gone by, and your little town in Vermont had gone wild. All of the boys and young men in the city were currently enlisting left and right. It was the non-stop talk. The boys raved about the pacific and killed Hitler while the girls cried, scared they wouldn't get married after high school. Just like anyone else, the war made your anxiety rise.

Jack and you were both born with Polio. Thankfully your Polio hadn't been severe, and with years of therapy, you had managed to live somewhat everyday life. On the other hand, Jack wasn't the luckiest. Polio had taken his teenage years away from him. Two years ago, he had to stop playing all sports and start using a cane. He was like an old man stuck in an eighteen-year old's body. Polio refused to bring down his spirits. As a child, Jack had been fascinated with war. Your father was a war hero himself. Jack felt like it was his duty to carry the family legacy. Even with protest, Jack was enlisted and was set to be drafted.

As each day went on, the fights between Jack and your parents escalated. Jack's Polio was getting worse each year. He tried to walk with his brace instead of a cane, which ended miserably. It pained Jack since all he wanted to do was fight., but there was no way he couldn't. He would make it to training camp and probably hurt himself in the process. As his sister and closest friend, you couldn't let him do this to himself.

Jack kicked the door open with his cane as he walked down the dirt path. He had just gotten into another fight with your parents, but it was worse. More yelling, crying, and anger. You followed after him, trailing behind him.

"Jack, please," You begged on the verge of tears yourself, "Listen to them! Dad says, you won't last!"

"I don't care what that man has to say," He barked back as he continued to walk faster, "I'm goin'. Every man has to fight for our country. Dad's too old to go. I ain't havin' those krauts rome around."

It was either Jack or your ailing father. Your father was a hard worker but was slowing down with age. He would die within the next few years, and the last thing you wanted for him was to die a cruel and brutal death.

You walked up to his back and grabbed his shoulder, pulling him back. "You'll die!"

"WHY DO YOU CARE SO MUCH?" His voice rang as he pushed you back with his cane. Jack was too aggressive, causing you to fall onto the dirt ground. You could feel the scraps and blood form on the palms of your hands. "YOU'RE A WOMAN! YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT THIS! YOUR SUPPOSE TO GET MARRIED AND HAVE KIDS! JUST LET ME DIE FIGHTING FOR OUR COUNTRY!"

It had hit Jack like a slap in the face. He had not only yelled but just pushed his best friend to the ground like a bully. Tears formed at your eyes as you bit your lip, crawling back. Regret was plastered on his face as he walked forward. You didn't bother to listen to him as you crawled back, running back into the house.

Your mother stood on the porch, opening her arms for comfort. The last thing you wanted to do was talk to people. Covering your eyes, you ran into the house and up the stairs to your bedroom. The door slammed behind you as tears streamed down your face.

------

For hours you sat on your bed, looking out at the Vermont night. The moon shined bright as the stars twinkle over the sky. The trees rustled the leaves as Fall transitioned into Winter. Outside of the window, you could hear the conversation that happened with your parents and brother. Instead of a fight, it was a calm conversation. Jack still held his ground. At this point, he had been begging to fight. Your mother protested, but your father shook his head and grabbed his shoulders, pulling him and saying, "Good luck, soldier." Jack walked back into the house. He stood at your door and contemplated apologizing but returned to his room.

Your poor mother stood there with her hands covering her face, sobbing. Your father tried to console her in the act of kindness, but she simply shrugged him off and ran into the house. He simply stood there with his arms by his side in defeat. Your family was being torn apart.

Forcing yourself to get out of bed, you walked to light a candle in your darkroom. Upon lighting it, it exposed all of the nostalgia from your childhood when you were simply a little girl. All the trophies, the signed baseball, jewelry handed down from your mother, and photos. Photos of your family. Pictures of you were your father on a tractor, your 6th birthday when you and your brother threw a pie at each other, and the most recent photo of you and your brother, arm in arm, at a football game. Picking it up, a small formed of your face. The thought of losing him and your father drove you mad. Your father had raised you like a son; learning how your bills, shoot a gun, and so much more. As much as your mother hated it, your father accepted that you weren't the girl that was gonna get married.

A small tear dropped onto the photo. It scrunched up in your hands as your thoughts began to race. You were anxious and apprehensive; it seemed like a reach. Like a plot out of a movie. Your family and friends had told you how you looked like the female version of Jack. You were Jack, but just with long hair. Your mother never let you cut it, saying it was so beautiful. You pulled your hair back and looked in the mirror to see yourself with short hair.

You were Jack.

You were independent and fiery.

No man was going to control your life.

-----

Herbert Sobel was one of the worst people you had ever met in your life.

He was brutal and cold. There wasn't a day that went by without him screaming at a trainee. He was infamous for taking away weekend passes and forcing the whole company to run Curahee. One creased pant or slouched shoulders and boom-weekend pass revoked. Curahee occurred three times a week and made the entire company muscled and sore. The only good thing about Sobel was George Luz's jokes. Your bed was placed right next to his. As you would hide under the covers, he would always crack a fantastic impression of him. The whole company would conceal their laughter.

"Private Y/l/n, have you been blousing your trousers over your boots like a paratrooper?" Sobel walked in front of you, towering over your smaller frame.

Standing tall with your weapon in your hand, "No, sir."

"Then explain the creases at the bottom,"

"No excuse, sir,"

"Volunteering for the parachute infantry is one thing, Y/l/n, but you've got a long way to prove that you belong here," Sobel walked ahead to go ruin someone's else day. "Your weekend pass has been revoked."

Your grasp tightened on your gun as you bit your lip. Anger ran in your hands, but one wrong move, and it would all be over. Last week, Sobel had taken your weekend pass as well.

But by far, you were positive Sobel hated you the most.

The first time you ran Curahee, you were the last person. Your average was about thirty minutes. You weren't as quick as Perconte or muscled as Bull. Sure, you had been the top runner on your cross country team, but Curahee was definitely a challenge. You were a short and scrawny teenage girl disguised as a boy.

Crawling up the dirt hill, you ran up and touched the stone. Sobel stood there with disgust on his face.

"Y/l/n," He spat, looking down at the timer. It was read thirty-two minutes, "Last as usual. Six miles back."

You ran back down the hill. Sweat ran down your face as your sticky clothes stuck to your body. The P.T. uniform for runs was a risk. It showed most of your skin and was unfortunately tight. The bandages wrapped around your chest, pained your chest and back. As much you wanted to stop, Sobel was watching you from a distance. You pushed forward as you saw the camp in the distance, the hot Georgia sun setting into the orange sky.

-----

It was another training day. You and the easy company men piled out of your shitty dormitory and lined up against the lawn. In front of you were a tall tree and an arrow on top. Everyone speculated to what it could be. Even the smart Dick Winters couldn't figure it out. Perconte predicted it was "one hell of an exercise," and which he was right.

Sobel had instructed each member of the easy company to climb up the pillar and archive the arrow. It was like a climbing Curahee. Every single person. Even the training medics had to participate.

To make it even harder, Sobel stated that every climber would have to hold two kettlebells. Everybody held back their groans. Bull was the first to go and fell right on his ass. The next was Leibgott, who tried to wrap them around and jump up, but also tumbled down. Each man took a turn, but who all fail miserably. If you failed, you would be forced to rerun Curahee and additional insulting comments from Sobel.

Leibgott held his ass as he walked by you. You made eye-contact with him as he threw the weights into your arms.

"What are you lookin' at, boney?"

Not wanting to fight, you wrapped the ribbon's weights around your hands and pushed yourself up. It felt bulky and uncomfortable as you tried to climb. You ended up like a lot of members in easy company, falling flat on your ass. Not even ten seconds, and you had failed.

"Y/l/n, your the most pathetic and spineless paratrooper I've ever seen," He hissed. Snapping out of the pain, you pushed yourself up and began to run towards the infamous hill. You were smart and knew the drill. How the hell were you going to make it?

-----

Not only were you Sobel punching bag, but seemingly the whole company. You knew people hated you when the infamous George Luz would make an impression of you. He and friends would snick at it, with Bull telling them all to shut up. In the first few weeks in training, you observed the company and how they interacted. Growing up, you were a tomboy who spent most of your time with your brother and his friends. They treated like you were one of the boys and no different from them. Playful punches, snarky remarks, and not taking daily showers seemed to be the norm. You had talked to a few members and was friendly with some but not with others.

Following your brother and his actions, you approached Liebgott and playfully punched him in the shoulder as a greeting. It turned out Liebgott didn't like people, especially you. Him, Toye, and Guarnere (his nickname made you smirk) looked at you with daggers in your eyes. You already knew what was coming. You stepped back and shut your eyes tight, praying it would pass it.

The next thing you knew, you were in the infamy with a developing black eye. Liebgott was lanky and small but certainly packed a punch. Sobel had broken up the fight, took another weekend pass away, and another run-up Curahee. As you were escorted out, Luz joked that you were Sobel's favorite punching bag. That man was painfully right.

A nurse came back and gave you an icepack. She told you that Liebgott had punched you so hard that your eye was going to be swollen shut for the next few days. Liebgott really did hate you. The nurse gave you an icepack and said she would grab some medication to help with the pain. You sat there as you held up the icepack to your battered eye. A sigh escaped your lips as you gently shook your legs backward.

How the hell were you going to get through this? You didn't know if you could make it another year. Whatever you touched died, whether it be people or your dignity. Sobel and the whole entire company hated you. Even if you wanted to give up, you couldn't. You were doing this for your brother and father. Honor your father, who fought an unimaginable war. Be the man he wanted you to be.

A loud and frustrated sigh interrupted your thoughts. Looking up, you noticed a man throw down a bandage. The dummy beneath him was covered in countless rolls of bandages. He sat back and leaned onto a pole, putting his hands on his face.

You squeezed the icepack in your hands as water dripped all over your hands. You knew Sobel's wrath all too well. Being frustrated and not knowing what the next step was. It reminded you of history class. Someone would get frustrated with reading or word, and you'd scot next to them, offering help. You considered yourself a person who kept to themselves. All the girls in your grade would get invited to parties and sleepovers, but you never did. You felt like nobody noticed you existed. Whenever you spoke or did anything out of your comfort zone, it caused chaos. You felt like a spectre in the crowd. Nobody ever noticed you.

Pushing yourself from the hard rock bed, you walked into the other room and bent down to the dummy. The training medic revealed his face. His face was red, sweaty, and stressed. He didn't speak any word as your y/e/c met with his dark blue eyes. The Georgia sun was beginning to set, and a light shined on his eyes, making them appear royal blue. His eyes reminded you of the lake behind your house. In the summers, you and your brother would sneak to the lake at sunset, hitting you with nostalgia. You relaxed your shoulders, feeling content for the first time in a year.

You held up a bandage, asking in a soft voice, "You want help?"

The blue-eyed man nodded in response. He fixed his posture and leaned forward to watch your demonstration. He had pink skin and thick black hair. His jaw was sharp, looking like it could give a papercut. Your mother was a retired veterinarian. Before you enrolled in school, your mother brought you to her workplace. Your little mind somehow remembered everything from her job.

You weren't the best at conversation, feeling frightened to talk considering all of your horrible experiences. "Um, you put the gauze here," You explained with a low voice as you held the gauze down and wrapped the bandage from top to bottom. Once the two pieces met in the middle, you grabbed them tightly and knotted them. "Tie it like a shoelace, tight but not suffocating tight."

He followed your every move and replicated it on the other arm. Whatever you had done, it had worked. Your hands moved quickly, making it seem so simple/ He struggled to hold the gauze down as he tied. You aided him by holding the gauze down as he finished knotting. His hand brushed up against yours. His cheeks grew red as he looked down, focusing on the task. There was definitely room for improvement, but it worked.

You looked up at him with a subtle smile on your face, "Looks better."

"Thanks," He rubbed the back of his neck. His accent was thick. It took you a second to decipher what he had just said. Whatever his accent was sounded southern. The closer you were to him, he looked familiar, but you couldn't put the finger on him.

There was a peaceful silence before you broke it, "What's your name?"

"Eugene, you?"

"Y/n," You replied as the empty bandage rolled slid between your fingers. That wasn't really your name, it was your brothers, but it had grown onto you.

Eugene's eyes scanned your body as his cheeks grew heated. He had been having a horrible day with the Georgia heat and lack of nurses available. He thought choosing a job as a medic would be easy since he was agile, but it proved to be a task. The only medical training he had was from boy scouts, and he hadn't attended a meeting in years.

A smile curved on his lips, and looked at you, "Y/n," He repeated your name. Something was soothing about his accent. He reminded you of an iceberg, slowly melting. "What happened to your eye?"

"I got punched by Leibgott," You nodded your head. Eugene was the first person that treated you like a human. He didn't make fun of you, and It was refreshing. He didn't laugh or make a mean remark. All he did was sit there and listen.

A nurse popped her head into the room and gave you the pain medication. She told you that Sobel needed you back at training. You looked out the window and saw the easy company men climbing up the tree and all failing.

You stood up and swallowed the meds. Before you left, you looked back and waved to Eugene. "Bye, Eugene."

He seemed caught off guard and tilted his head up, "Bye, y/n."

For the time in a year, you felt like you could actually breathe and smile. Smile about Eugene's smile.

-----

From that day forward, Eugene had become your friend. You returned to the infirmary and stumbled upon him. What started off with helping him become a better medic formed into a friendship. Eugene was the only person you felt comfortable with within the whole camp. Sure, Dick Winters and Bull treated you with kindness, but he treated you like a human being with Eugene.

The two of you would share cigarettes, stolen chocolate, and thousands of little stories. Eugene wasn't a man of many words. He was someone who observed. Whenever you ranted, even if it was about the dumbest thing, he could sit and listen. It turned out Eugene lived in your bunk. The man was silent as a mouse and, like you, kept to himself. Unlike you, he avoided trouble. Somehow, you always ended up in it.

Eugene helped you with your black eye. He offered you a bunch of little tricks on how to make it better. Eugene used his hands a lot and usually held a compress to your face as you relaxed. He gave you some anti-swelling medication along with some fruits he snuck that apparently helped "heal" the pain.

"Jack, where you from?" He asked you one night. The two of you couldn't sleep. George Luz was a horrible bunkmate and couldn't resist snoring. Eugene had tip-toed to your bed and held up a pack of cigarettes. The two of you made gestures that only you and Eugene understood. Slipping out of bed, the two of you ran behind the camp to smoke. You laid right next to Eugene as cigarettes hung from your lips, looking into the stary sky.

Typically, you initiated a lot of the conversation. But tonight, it was different. Eugene turned his body over to you, watching his every move. He wasn't much older than you, about two years. He hated when you smoked, feeling guilty that he had gotten you on such a bad habit. You grew up with parents who smoked, so it wasn't anything new. Cigarettes calmed your anxiety.

"Vermont. Stowe, it's near the Candian border," You said as a smoke puff escaped your mouth, "You?"

"Louisiana. Bayou Chene, you know it?"

"No idea," You chuckled as you threw your finished cigarette to the side. You scrambled through your pocket and placed a cigarette in your mouth but couldn't find your damned lighter. You probably left it at your bunk.

Eugene scooted closer. It took you back as you tuned your face towards his. His face leaned into yours as the tip of your cigarettes caressed. Eugene's cigarette light you as smoke emerged from your mouth. Your faces were so close as his dark blue eyes burned into your soul. At first, Eugene seemed distant. You thought he hated you because everyone did. But to the best of ability, he proved that he didn't hate you. He was like a shy plant that you were watering. Each day Eugene blossomed as you got to know him more. Your cheeks grew as your fingers grasped against the grass. You could get lost in Eugene's big blue eyes. Swim into oblivion and never come back.

No, you couldn't. You were Private y/n y/l/n, not y/n.

You let out a fake cough, and Eugene noticed, backing up to the spot he once was in. You laid as a cigarette dragged on your lips, looking at the starry sky. Eugene was the only person that treated you with kindness. You could let your guard down in front of him. Your voice was soft whenever you were around him, relaxed shoulders, and your daily serotonin simply being delivered by his mere presence. His Cajun accent made you weak. You could listen to it for hours on end; it was like a sweet lullaby. It seemed like you two had found something in each other that you seemingly couldn't find with the rest of the company.

Eugene had turned his head to look back at you and see how relaxed you were. He was at a loss for words. Seeing you calm made him calm. He had seen you cry, run, and almost every emotion in such a short amount of time. Eugene considered himself to be a loner, but what he felt was his friend.

"Vermont's got a lot of snow, doesn't it?"

You turned and met with his face once again, smiling, "Lots of it in the winter."

"I've never seen it before, 's tew hot down there." Eugene mumbled, "I hate the heat."

"You should come to Stowe, y' know, after the kraut's surrender," You offered as you took the cigarette out of your mouth and waved it around. "I'll take you skiing."

It was a forward move, but Eugene was your friend, after all. Nothing more than just a friend. He tilted his head, "I can't ski 'doe."

"I'll teach you. You'll see how fun it is," You explained, shifting yourself up as you put your chin in your palm. The stars twinkled in Eugene's eyes.

"Ok?"

"Ok."

Eugene grabbed your hand, and you shook it back. His much larger hand-squeezed yours before sliding away. It took you by surprise. Before Sobel could take out another weekend pass, the two of you ushered back to the camp.

It was a deal.

-----

Sobel had once again decided to ruin the company's day by calling them back into the dorm. Nobody knew exactly why, which made the whole situation even worse. Piling into the dorm, Sobel stood in front of your bed, revealing a big bloodstain. He questioned all of the men on it before you came forward and admitted it was you. The makeshift pad you had made apparently didn't work.

"Give me a good reason to why you bled the bed, Private y/l/n," Sobel demanded as he stood in front of you.

Your eyes looked at the bed as you scrambled to find a good excuse. Of course, your period had to act up today. Your hands rested on your back as your fingers fiddled with each other.

"I had a scab on my leg, and I picked it in the night, sir." You muttered low, not wanting the other men to hear.

Sobel knew what you said, but after all, you were his punching back.

"Private, repeat yourself. Louder this time."

"I had a scab on the back of my leg, and I was picking at it, sir." You repeated, louder. Some of the men held back their snickers. You knew Liebgott was getting a kick out of this. Eugene looked at the stain and then you, pity in his big blue eyes.

Sobel walked past you, "Private y/l/n, do you wet the bed at night?"

Sobel's face looked so punchable at the moment. These men held in their laughter as you tried to find your words to respond. What was a good excuse for your period? Your father always taught you to be honest (even though you had been lying for a whole year).

"I...did, sir." You admitted.

Sobel huffed under his breath, "This isn't sleepaway camp. You will run up Curahee, and I expect to see you up there in fifteen minutes. In gear."

Not only did you have to run in 90-degree weather, but in heavy gear that made you look like a child in pajamas. The rest of the men piled out of the dorm for dinner. Perconte gave you a sympathetic look. He always seemed to do that whenever Sobel had tortured you once more. The last person who left the room, Eugene looked at you. You didn't even need to speak; his eyes screamed pity. Eugene knew you didn't pee the bed.

-----

You had run Curahee thousands of times, but today it had been hell. It was hot and sticky, the sun was setting, and you had heavy (and smelly) gear dragging you down. The rifle that hanged from your hands was dragging you down, and your whole body was aching with pain. The only thing you wanted to do in the world was punch Sobel's stupid nose off and sob. You had cried silently but hadn't sobbed. You were never alone in this company. You weren't sure how much longer you would be able to last. You felt alone, scared, and a pathetic excuse for a paratrooper.  

Footsteps rumbled behind you. They got louder as you could eventually hear the clanging of dog tags. Stopping your sniffling, you turned to your right and saw Eugene. It was starting to get dark and humid outside, so you assumed it was a hallucination, but it wasn't. Eugene was right next to you, dressed in all his gear as he ran right beside you.

"Shit, Gene?" You said, caught off guard by his sudden appearance.

"Hey 'dere y/n," He replied, looking up and down your body. He saw your physical and emotional exhaustion, "You doin' okay?"

Emotions made you seem weak, and everybody perceived you as soft. Subtly sniffling, you turned and stored your sadness away once more. "Yeah, 'm fine," You quirked an eyebrow, "Now what in the hell are you doin' here?"

As Eugene ran beside you, his shoulder bumped against yours a little. It was a minor detail that made your cheeks grow red, "Thought you'd like some company... y' know since we're a company."

A small snort escaped your mouth as you guys ran. Did he run through hell just for you? No one that really ever done that before. Eugene and you had grown so close to each other in such a short amount of time. It was the little things that proved Eugene was your friend. "Gene, Sobel's gonna take away your weekend pass,"

"'S not like I got anythin' better to be doin' with my time," Eugene said as sweat dripped down his face. His helmet was too big for his head and tilted. "Rather be with you 'den anythin' else."

Right then in there, you would've dropped to the ground. You had to be hallucinating. With the heat and impending night, your head was spinning right now. Maybe Eugene was too friendly, or perhaps he was flirting with you. Whenever you were about to cry in your sleep, a thought of Eugene would pop up. A smile would appear on your face. Just thinking about seeing him, bringing you a small dose of serotonin.

"Even if it means running through hell and having Sobel scream in your face?"

Eugene looked and you and nodded. He was a true friend, loyal, and kind.

You laughed as the two of you turned the corner. Sobel was on top of the dreadful hill, squinting his eyes as he saw you and Eugene. Sobel usually looked unhappy, but he was prepared to give you and Eugene another standoffish remark.

You groaned under your breath at Sobel's far presence, "You sure you wanted to do this?"

"'S worth it, y/n." Eugene said, "Rather be 'ere."

Those words stuck with you the three miles up and the three miles down.

-----

Once you arrived back at camp, the sun had already gone down. It was already eight. On your run down, you had fallen. It was caused by your cramps and dehydration. Eugene practically dragged (and somewhat carried) you back to camp. Sobel was not impressed whatsoever. The men of the easy company saw you being removed to the infirmary. The nurses kept a close eye on you and shoved water down your throat.

One of them gave you a pat on the back and told you to return to the dormitory. You were exhausted as you walked outside into the night. All you wanted to do was crawl into that stonecold bed and doze off about Eugene.

"Private y/l/n," A familiar voice called. You turned and straightened your position. There Sobel stood, looking angered at your presence, as usual.

"Sir," Is all you could respond with. Sobel had triggered your flight or fight response.

"I'm concerned with your wellbeing in the camp," Sobel began to explain. Whatever he was going to say, you knew it wasn't good, "You've been with easy company for almost a year now, and you've shown little to no change. Your disobedient, spineless, and unable to complete simple tasks. I firmly believe you will not ever be prepared for combat,"

"Permission to speak, sir," You tried not to interrupt him.

"Denied, I'm not finished," He coldly spoke, "You're unsuited for the rage of war. I would not trust you with a man, let alone a weapon. You don't belong in easy company, or any company for that matter. You're done here."

Words were unfathomable. A year of pure pain, and it was all for nothing. You were a soldier and couldn't act out of line. All you could do was stand there and hold in your tears and anger.

"Your father was a commander y/f/n y/l/n, correct?"

"Yes, sir," You said, low as words choked in your throat. Your father was a commander in world war one. He was a short-order than you and had a position similar to Sobel's. Like your brother, he was unwell to fight. He was aging and slowing down every day.

"I would trust Captain y/ln in combat, but not private y/l/n," He sneered with venom in his voice. He began to walk past you, "Go home, you're through."

He had stabbed your heart. You looked like a disappointment in front of him and your father. Sobel had proved that you were nothing but useless. You simply stood there as you relaxed your shoulders, feeling a small tear stream down your cheek. As much as tears begged to come out of you're eyes, you couldn't let them bring you down. Looking inside, Eugene was right there. He had seen and heard everything Sobel had said. Typically Eugene looked emotionless, but his face felt your pain. All you did at that moment was turn your heel and walk back.

"Voleunting for the parachute infantry is one thing, Y/l/n, but you've got a long way to prove that you belong here."

"Y/l/n, you're the most pathetic and spineless paratrooper I've ever seen,"

"Go home; you're through."

"You don't belong in easy company, or any company for that matter. You're done here."

All Sobel saw you were is disobedient, spineless, and unable to complete simple tasks. It was his words and not yours. They filled you with rage, frustration, and dejection. Within the past year, you had proven you were nothing but a fool. Maybe it was for the better. You wouldn't even trust yourself in combat. Sobel had made sure you hated yourself even more than you already did. If you weren't a good housewife, then there was no way in hell you were going to be a paratrooper.

Walking back to the dorm, you noticed that damned pillar. It reached high into the sky, reflecting the moonlight. The drill, even though nobody could do it, was still used by Sobel. Months had gone by, and no man in the company had been able to climb it. With the heat and weights, it was near impossible. Regardless, Sobel still tortured the company. What the hell did it even have to do with being a paratrooper.

Almost every time, you fell right on your ass with Sobel screaming in your ear and Liebgott snickering. But you were alone with your thoughts running through your head. Sobel's words that left a permeant mark on you. It was like a dark vein had wrapped around your limbs, dragging you into the ground as you struggled to fight. All you wanted to do was give up and succumb to the darkness you knew all too well.

But you weren't going to succumb tonight or ever.

You grabbed the kettlebells and jumped on the pole, only to fall onto your butt again. It hurt, and you were tired, but the pure rage was driving you. You would push yourself back up, and no matter how many times you well, you repeated. You weren't going to be considered weak and pushed away. All you knew at the moment was that you weren't going to leave this camp without a fight.

After hundreds of times of falling, you noticed a small detail. The kettlebells weighed the same and were meant to drag you down. But if you wrapped your whole body around the pole and simply pushed like your life had depended on it, then maybe it could work. Perhaps you could rub the fact that you weren't disobedient or spineless to Sobel.

Stepping back and running towards the pillar, you jumped up and wrapped your arms and legs around it. You slipped but yourself up. It was an uncomfortable position, but you had just made progress. The weights were dragging you down, but all you do was fight and push like your life had depended on it.

Dawn was arriving as the sky turned into a pinkish-blue hue. The sun slowly came over the hills as it shined upon the camp. Sobel wanted men at the crack of drawn. They had woken up to you halfway through climbing up Sobel's most challenging task. Most of them were in shock, considering that it had been out of all of the people, you. he one that George Luz had labeled as "Sobel's Punching Bag." Not Spiers or Winters, but you.

"Can you believe what I'm seeing?" Luz looked up, crossing his arms.

"Sobel beat them up, I bet money," Perconte said.

"Maybe Bones finally gained some muscle from all that damn runnin," Toye added.

"You idiots, it's none of 'dat." Guarnere interrupted, frustrated at his friends, "It's crack, for sure."

All the men in easy company looked at Guarnere, horrified, and confused. Guarnere didn't know why they all looked so shocked. He was confident he was right.

"Oh, come on, you kidding me?" Liebgott smirked as he looked at you climb. You were halfway there but slipping down. "Bones can't make it through Curahee through dyin, watch 'em fall, and break 'dere back."

Winters, being the mature one, had started cheering like an enthusiastic dad at a football. He knew there was some hidden talent in you. Slowly, all of the men began to cheer and whistle, even Liebgott. You noticed their cheers as you pulled up. The sun was starting to blind you, but it wasn't time to give you. A few more pushes, and you would be at the top.

Eugene had seen you storm out. He could feel your pain from a mile away. Seeing a small tear stream down your cheek made him feel human again. Toccoa had ripped his emotions away from you. You were the only thing that reminded him that there was right in the world. Not wanting to interrupt you, Eugene watched you from a distance. The way you screamed in frustration and fell. He knew it was creepy, but he had been cheering on for you. When you had managed to begin climbing, he smiled—a genuine, happy smile.

"allez, poussez juste…" Eugene muttered as he fidgeted with his fingers. You were so close to defeating Sobel's challenge.

Eugene knew you could do it.

There you sat, looking down at all the men who cheered you on. The breeze flew through your short hair, which was slowly starting to grow out. You smiled as you looked down, waving to all the men causing a commotion. It was like a miracle had happened.

Sobel had heard all of the commotions and walked back to the camp. Much to his surprise, he saw you, sitting on top of the pilar as you waved down to the men. You were like a god on a pedestal waving to your followers. That's not what you viewed yourself as, but you felt respected for once. Heck, even Liebgott cheered for you. You saw Eugene and smiled at him, giving him a small wave. He waved back, a smile on his face as well.

Maybe you were cut out to be a paratrooper.

-----

It was like a rebirth had occurred. No longer were you the weak link of the chain. It took time, but you rose above your piers and gained their respect. Sobel, impressed and shocked, had given you a second chance. You proved to him and your company that you were worthy of being a paratrooper. Sobel was still horrible to you, but it didn't matter. Whatever he threw at you, you and the company would complete it. No matter the runs up Curahee or twelve-mile marches, easy company persisted.

Jumping out of a moving plane, you and the company were officially paratroopers. After almost two years of living hell, you had somehow managed to do it. You had no idea how you did, but you had done it. Maybe it was Eugene's silent encouragement or the company's respect, or even Sobel's nasty remarks.

You were a paratrooper now. You hoped your father was proud of you.

-----

The night of the jump, the company had discovered a lake behind Camp Toccoa. You and Eugene had known about it for years, considering it your safe haven. You would even travel there yourself to take a dip in the lake where you were y/n, not Jack. It was another humid night in Georgia, so a nice drop wouldn't hurt. As long as you kept yourself hidden, you considered it to be safe.

Throwing off your gear, you took a dive into the water. It was cold but refreshed your body. You laid on your back as you shut your eyes, enjoying the water rush against your body. The only visible part of your body was your head and toes. There you could wash your body and be alone, away from all the discord. You washed your body and hair, feeling clean for the first time in a long time. Instead of smelling like dirt, you smelt like vanilla. Being a man had its perks but also its cons. You didn't even want to get started on male hygiene. Eugene would have been excellent company, but it was too risque. Two years into training, and the last thing you needed was your identity being discovered. Being a man took time to adapt to. You thought since you had hung out with your brother and his friends, it wouldn't be challenging, but you had been proven wrong. But there was no point in looking at the past. Now the men treated you like one. Even Liebgott respected you. He called you by your name instead of "Bones." It was the bare necessities, but it felt nice to be treated somewhat like a person.

The peace had been interrupted by a wave drowning your face. Freaking out, your body flipped as you turned your head to find the commotion. In the distance were a few easy company men diving into the water and swimming close to your location. Mentally cursing, you began to swim back to your area and get the hell out of there.

"Hey! Jack Rabbit!" A deep and rough voice Philly voice called. It was none other than the infamous Guarnere. Instead of Bones, your new nickname was Jack Rabbit. It was because you were fast in the line of action.

Turning around, you saw Liebgott, Webster, Toye, Guarnere, and Luz. They were all butt naked and proud. It made you cringe instead. Two years living with guys, and you still refused to be around them, nude.

You flashed a smile and waved as your head was the only thing that emerged from the water. "Um..hey guys! I didn't even know you were here!"

Liebgott, Luz, and Webster all had their eyes on you, like prey on a predator. Guarnere and Toye could be anywhere. Their glares, which were meant to be friendly, burned into your soul. It made you feel uncomfortable. The water felt like it was on fire. Your only priority was to get out.

"So now I'm clean, and I'm gonna go" You flashed a smile as you waved, kicking quickly under the water, "Bye!"

"Oh, come on!" Liebgott said as he saw on his back right next to you. A leaf thankful covered up his privates. He was less than an inch away from you. You descended into the water as your hands wrapped around your chest.

"I know I punched ya', and was mean to ya'-"

Webster interrupted as he laid on his back, looking at the sky, "Practically harassed and assaulted Jack Rabbit until he-"

"Shut ya' trap, college boy," Liebgott turned around and flicked water in Webster's face to disrupt his peaceful mediation, "Anyways, listen, I know we're all to jerks to you before, but let's start over."

He was right up your face as he held out his hand, a dumb smirk on his face, "Joe Liebgott."

You let out a nervous chuckle and shook his hand briefly, "Nice to meet ya…"

As you backed up in the water, you ran right into George Luz, who looked as jolly as ever. Even in the water, he still had a cigarette in his mouth, "George Luz, but you can call me Luz."

"Will do, Luz!" You had to go. Your heart rate was gonna drag you into the bottom of your lake.

"And I am Guarnere," A raspy voice called. You all looked up to see a naked (and confident) Guarnere stand on a rock, a full display of his genitalia. Your cheeks flushed red as your hand hid from the grotesque view, "King of the rock! And 'deres nothin' you girls can do about it!"

Toye happened to be on the rock and pushed Guarnere, knocking a block off his big ego. He sighed as he stood on the rock, his member also loud and proud in the night. "I think Jack Rabbit's already been traumatized enough tonight,"

"You call 'Ol Gonorrhea king of the rock?" Luz snorted as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, "I think me and Jack Rabbit can take you up that offer!"

Sliding under Luz, you began to swim away as you said, "I actually really don't wanna take up that offer."

'Oh, come on!" Luz swam close to you as he grabbed your arm, dragging you back, "Don't be such a gi-ow! Something just bit me!"

All you needed was a good excuse, "Must've been a..um...water snake!"

Luz turned to you, horror on his face. "Snake? SNAKE?" He screeched like a little girl, along with all of the other men as they swam for the rock. Toye looked at all of them, disappointment in their faces. Guarnere put on a stern face and claimed nothing in the water much to everyone's hysteria. It was your chance to escape. Swimming to the nearest (and most secluded) part of the land, you crawled out of the water and hid by a shrub. Once their voices began to disappear, you let out a sigh of relief.

"I never wanna see a naked man ever again…" You groaned as the imagine haunted your break. That was certainly a close call. Shaking them out, you looked around. Wherever you had swum to was unfamiliar, full of shrubs and twigs. The moonlight illuminated the lake as the stars twinkled in the sky. You were freezing and wanted to put your clothes back on now that you actually smelled decent for the first time in a while. Not having any cover meant walking back in with thorns scraping against your thigh. After that experience, you did not want to ever experience that again or see Guarnere brag about his member's size.

You began to recognize the area where you had left all of your gear. There were no voices or noises except for grasshoppers' sounds, and the wind brustling against the trees. The coast seemed clear.

Stepping out of the bush, your eyes saw your clothes on the rock. Shaking a few leaves from your hair, you let out a relieved sigh as you walked to the rock, not aware that someone had been watching you.

Picking up a towel, you noticed a figure in the corner of your eye. It seemed like a flash. As your head turned to look, the towel dropped from your hands as your heart dropped into your stomach.

It was Eugene.

He had seen you nude. Your breasts and female part-everything. He was just in much as a shock as you were. Both of you were frozen in place. Eugene's cheeks and nose flustered red as he looked down at your body. It had been a long time since he had seen a woman. He knew he shouldn't have looked, but it was so much to take in at once. It came as a shock to him and you.

You threw up your hands, at a loss of words, "Wait, I can explain...all of this!"

"Y-you're...a girl," Eugene murmured. He seemed shocked but not mortified.

As you created a mental response, Eugene and you heard the rumbling of a jeep. It was none other than Sobel. He most likely found out the company ditched camp to go swim in the lake, resulting in everyone losing their weekend pass. You could see the jeep in the distance park right beside a rock that hid you and Eugene. The door to the jeep slammed shut, signaling that Sobel was on a mission to bust whoever was at the lake.

You were naked, a woman, and frozen in fear. This all had to be some nightmare.

"'ere, c'mon," Eugene walked over and grabbed your hand, pulling you into a shrub. There was not a lot of room, so you were practically sitting on Eugene. It was an awkward and uncomfortable situation considering that you were butt naked. Your legs peered out of the bush, and Eugene gently grabbed your waist, pulling you back, so you were completely hidden.

It was too dark to see anything, but you could hear footsteps and Sobel yell at the men in the lake. You could listen to the splashing of water, and Sobel grabbed something (you assumed your clothes) and storming back into his jeep. Once it jumpstarted, you let out a sigh of relief, but you weren't in the clear still. Your body had melted into Eugene's, his hand on your waist and chest. His breath was heavy against your neck. He hadn't smelt something good in weeks, familiar with the smell of dirt—your buzzed hair smelt like lavender and your body, vanilla. Not to mention your y/s/c skin was glossy and smooth.

Eugene's calloused hand rested not too far from your breast. It weighed on it, right next to your nipple. Once you realized, you were in absolute horror.

The next thing Eugene knew was that he had your foot kicked into his face as he tumbled out of the bush. You stood there were your hands wrapped around your chest, mortified and embarrassed.

"You Pervert!" You snarled, stepping back. Sobel had taken your clothes as you cursed. Just when things seemed like they were going good, they were all going down. "I trusted you, and this is what happens? You stalk me and grab my chest and…" A disgusted groan escaped your lip.s You couldn't even finish your sentence without wanting to throw up.

Eugene crawled back to rock as he wiped the blood trickling from his nose. He rose his eyebrows and shook his head, "No, 'dats not why I came, Jack. I came because-"

"Because you wanted to see me naked?"

"No, I…" The Cajun looked embarrassed to admit it. Letting out a massive sign, he pushed himself to stand. A bruise was already forming on his nose, "Saw all 'da boys headin' to the lake. The one we discovered before any of 'dem did. I was tryin' to look for you, but you weren't 'dere, so I came 'ere and... you're a woman."

The heat grew on your cheeks. You didn't have any clothes and felt exposed. You were too embarrassed to see Eugene was blushing himself.

Eugene had known you for two whole years and felt like he knew almost everything about you, but this hit him like a train. He was feeling so many emotions at once; surprise, disbelief, and amazement. Something about this situation made his heart jitter. He had no idea how to describe it. Seeing you so vulnerable and shivering caused him to slowly walk over and take off his olive green chore jacket, throwing aside over your shoulder.

You backed up, startled. You had gone two years without anyone knowing; now it was over. A small thank you escaped your lips as you pulled the other jacket around it. It was huge on your body and just smelled like Eugene. You now felt horrible. He was too much of a kind person to want to grope you. In fact, he had saved you from being discovered.

"Why'd you come here?" You asked as you pulled the jacket tighter to your body.

He hesitated to respond as he rubbed the back of his neck but eventually let loose. "Because I wanted to find you. Not to discover...y'know. Thought you'd be 'ere."

"I'm sorry about punching you; I thought you…"

"Sobel was gonna see your legs; I didn't want him to see you."

You furrowed your eyebrows as you looked at Eugene. If It had been any other soldier, you were sure they would turn you in. But with Eugene, it seemed like he wanted to help you. "Wait...but...why?"

"Well, you were naked...and a woman. Plus, it's Sobel," Eugene explained. He did have a point with Sobel.

Eugene didn't fully answer your question. "But why did you really hide me? You could've just sent me home".

"Why would I wanna ever do that?" Eugene perplexed, "Listen, y/n, for two years, you hid as a man. You trained, and now you're a paratrooper and Imma medic. I don't know how the hell you pulled it off, but you did. When I first saw you, there was...somethin' off. You were the tinier 'den all of them. When I saw the stain on your bed...I figured it out. I can't believe it's true…"

A huff escaped your lips, and you buried your hands in your face, "That means they all know…"

"Y/n, no offense…but 'dose guys don't have a brain to notice 'dat you were a girl. They would only believe you if you showed them you were. Guess I'm 'da only one who knows."

"How else could you tell I was a girl?" You were intrigued that Eugene knew. Half of the company men were so distracted that they most likely didn't bother about your appearance, except when Liebgott would make fun of you for being the smallest person in the company.

"Well... you're a kind person."

You removed your hands from your face, perplexed by his answer. He saw your confusion and proceeded to explain.

"You're one of the nicest and most empathetic people in the company. 'Dat's kinda how I figured. War is a brutal place. 'Da whole company is full of men who cheat, steal, and lie. But you y/n, ain't nothin like that. You're a good and strong person who cares 'bout other people. A gift from GodGod."

You smiled as your cheeks turned pink. Eugene's words were raw and the truth.

"But you know...it's over for me." You sighed as you began to walk past him, "I'm in the doghouse now."

Eugene grabbed your hand, causing you to stop. He looked at you with his big blue eyes. He didn't even need to speak words as his eyes burned into your soul. Eugene made your body weak as the tension left your body. He gave your hand a little squeeze.

"No, let me help you."

"With what?"

"Being a man," Eugene said, "I'll help you with whatever you need. Bandages, binders, products for y' know...you. If you wanna pass without worryin', then let me 'elp you. Please."

You liked the idea of it but yearned for why Eugene desperately wanted to help you. "Why do you wanna help a woman?"

"It ain't 'cause you're a woman; it's because you're a fighter. Two years of training, and you finally are a Paratrooper. I don't wanna let all your hard work go to waste," He replied, "Plus, I'd miss havin' you 'round."

You shook your head as you chuckled. Eugene was serious but lighthearted, in which he was only around you. The two of you were so vulnerable around each other, letting downsides you would never let the world see. He subtle smiled as you let go of his hand.

"Why'd you do it?"

The two of you walked in the dark forest, side by side. You began to talk about your long journey to where you stood. "My brother had Polio, and my dad was too old. I didn't wanna see them get hurt...so I took my brother's place."

"That's what angels do, y' know? That's very brave," Eugene complimented.

He kept referring to you as an angel, and you couldn't tell if it was subtle flirting or him just being nice to you. You bumped into his shoulder, smiling, "I don't consider it brave. I just wanted to make sure they were ok."

Eugene looked up at the sky and then at you. Looking at you made him feel at ease. He could stare at you for hours on end.

"You gotta promise me somethin' tho'."

Your full attention was on him, waiting to spill.

"Promise me you won't get hurt or do anythin' dumb. Stay by me when you can. I just... I don't know if I could handle you getting hurt," Eugene admitted as his voice croaked. You were the last person he wanted to lose. The one real person that he cared deeply about.

"I'll try, but please…" You squeezed the rim of his jacket, "Don't treat me any differently because I'm a woman. I'm a man to you, and nothing different. Can you promise me that, Gene?"

You stood there and held out your hand to shake on it. Eugene stopped walking and noticed. His mind was racing with thoughts. So many ideas were going through his head. It had already been a night full of surprises. But if you wished it, it was his command. Eugene's hand once again met with yours as you firmly shook hands. The two of you continued walking as Eugene looked down at you, not knowing what to say once again. But the two had created a language that you would only understand.

"Ok?" Eugene cooed in his thick drawl.

You looked at him and nodded with reassurance, "Ok."

"What's your real name, by the way? Not your brother's name, but your name."

"Y/n." You said. You hadn't said that in years.

"Y/n, y/n…" Eugene repeated your name under his breath. It was different, and he liked others. He knew it was his job not to grow close to you, but it was becoming harder now that you were a woman and his closest friend. But he snapped out of his worry and smiled down at you. "Nice to meet you, y/n."

"Nice to meet you as well, Gene."

Eugene and you walked back to camp. He had gotten you a fresh pair of clothes, and the two of you sat outside of the medical center, sharing a pack of cigarettes as you watched the sunrise into the Toccoa sky. You and Eugene agreed to make it seem like this was a normal situation, and nothing had changed. But now that Eugene knew about the real y/n, everything had changed.

[war-sword]

2019 Draco/Reader Secret Santa Fic Exchange - A Flurry of Memories

summary: Christmastime has always help many memories for Y/N, but now so many of them are imbued with Draco Malfoy, it’s hard to think of much else. A/N: ahhahahaha holy fuck. so i went back and forth between 2 versions of this fic for a couple of weeks before picking this one and i wrote the majority of the 2k in about... 3 hours. so. take what you will.thank you to bae aka @eltanin-malfoy for organizing this exchange!!! i hope you enjoy! prompt: first snowfall words: 2.6k taglist: @clockworkherondale @accio-rogers @mayorofzillyhoo @diademofdraco @drawlfoy @ladybuginthetardis @silversslytherin @lushlavenderskies @socontagiousimagines @acciodracoo

◈◈◈

A drop of wine made its way down the side of the bottle, ending it’s journey by staining the napkin below with a bloody star burst. Y/N tapped the top of her glass with her nail, listening to the gentle ring as she gazed out the window. It had begun to snow– the first of the season. 

Y/N was desperately trying to get into the holiday spirit, and she grabbed her wand with her free hand to point it at her gramophone in the corner to flip her Celestina Warbeck holiday record. The needle landed gently on the b-side and “Merry Christmas, Happy Goblin Days” started with a quiet crackle. A song that would normally make her want to get up and sing, only coaxed a sigh from her. 

Christmas used to be a fun time when she was in school. Large parties at the family estates, wearing fancy dresses and stuffing themselves silly with horderves. Sneaking into their father’s studies to snoop through the drawers before running away giggling, Ms. Zabini’s extravagant gifts of fine jewelry that every year got more stunning. Loading their pockets with olives and crackers, and braving the cold outside to try and coax the Malfoy’s albino peacocks close enough to stroke. And the one year they all stayed at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament, it’s own league of fun and dressing up.

And then she remembers no Christmas parties at all.

Now she has no big house to live in, no fun parties to go to, and the first night she needs to build a fire in her little house always stirs up feelings of nostalgia and longing. It’s annoying to feel depressed for no reason, but almost just as annoying when she realizes, year after year, it’s about how winter reminds her of him. 

The dregs at the bottom of Y/N’s glass have created interesting patterns. She doesn’t remember emptying her glass again. The snow outside is coming down in big flakes now, and her record has gone silent. She still has a few hours to kill before she needs to start dinner. Perhaps a walk in the fresh snow can get her out of her Christmas funk. 

Y/N pulls on her boots and coat at the door. She decides a hat is in order with all this heavy precipitation, and reaches up to the top shelf in the hall closet to grab her warm knit one. Something else comes down with the hat, and a length of emerald fabric pools at her feet. At one end are the initials D.M. in elegant silver stitching. Y/N had forgotten she’d had this. She considers kicking to the back of the closet for a moment while her chest swirls with a concoction of emotions, before snatching up the scarf and looping it around her neck.

A scarf is a scarf, and it’s unfortunately as warm as she remembered.

Y/N and Pansy Parkinson laid side by side on the cold oak floors of Malfoy Manor, carefully monitoring the planks for creaking. “I haven’t heard anything for a few minutes,” Pansy whispers.

“Me either,” Y/N says back.

“Check the clock again.”

Y/N carefully moves herself into an upright position and pads across the floor to check the clock on the nightstand of the room she and Pansy are sharing for the night. Together, the hands read exactly twelve fourty-five. She pads back and lies down next to Pansy again, taking a moment to steady her breathing before relaying the information.

“Shall we go?”

Y/N bites her lip, pretending to contemplate. “Yes. Should we take a candle?”

“No, stipud, we have to go in the dark. The moon is out. We should be able to see.”

Y/N looks back at the bed to look at the lumps under the covers they had created with pillows, and then follows Pansy out into the hall. Sure enough, moonlight streaks through the windows. The girl’s socked feet make no sounds as they count the doors and go around the corner. When they reach Draco’s bedroom, they stop and hold their breath to listen at the door. Y/N can hear that Draco, Blaise, and Theo are still awake and talking.

Pansy gently knocks on the door three times, waits, and then another three times, before cracking it open so they can slip inside. Abandoning all care, they sprint the few steps into Draco’s room before launching onto the bed with their other friends. “We had to wait a little while longer,” Y/N explains, “Dobby was in the hall cleaning.”

Draco, who is perched atop a pillow and leaning against his elaborate headboard, rolls his eyes. “Stupid elf. He should be downstairs cleaning, where the party was, not up here. I can’t believe our family got stuck with such a useless one.”

“That’s why my mum just got rid of ours and hired a person,” Blaise says.

“I’ve told father we should do the same, but he insists that people are too inclined to snoop,” Draco’s eyes glint with importance. “At least house elves you can be sure they won’t tell anyone anything.”

Pansy nods along with Draco as he speaks. Y/N curls her feet under her and rearranges her nightgown about her legs. “Have you tried asking Dobby about the Heir of Slytherin? If he has been around your family for a long time, maybe he knows something.” Y/N tries to steer the conversation to what they were discussing before being sent to bed, a topic they all found very important and adult.

“I doubt he would’ve had access to important information like that, besides, it’s not me,” Draco says.

Blaise, Theo, and Pansy all do the same. “I don’t understand who it could be if it’s none of us. We’re the most important people in our house,” Theo says.

“Maybe it’s a Pureblood who got sorted into another house, and wants revenge on the sorting hat,” Pansy suggests.

Blaise wrinkles his nose. “Ew, like Weasley?”

They all laugh at that, and spend hours into the morning spinning increasingly wild theories, only to be found in a heap on Draco’s bed the next morning by their parents.

The snow outside is satisfyingly crisp under Y/N’s feet. She looks down, mesmerized as her boots cut into the fresh, untouched snow and leave behind a perfect imprint of her boot. She refocuses her eyes to her hair, spilling over her coat and scarf as thick white flakes catch on the strands. Only a few minutes into her walk, she’s dappled with snow. 

Thinking about old times in Malfoy Manor make her smile. The property itself isn’t very far from her current home. After the war, she’d tried to move around to various wizarding communities, but none were all too welcoming. Even though Y/N’s family’s estate was lost to her, being back in the area she grew up brought her some comfort. Even if Draco’s home was still only a few miles away. 

The empty road lined with trees soon gave way to a tiny town. It was once filled with bustling shops for the magical folk in the area, disguised as run down buildings to any muggle passing from afar. Now, most of the stores truly were that, only a few like the food markets, apothecary and bookshop were still open. As Y/N passed the old tailor’s shop, she tilted her head to the sky, sticking her tongue out to catch a snowflake.

“Y/N, have you given any more thought to what colors we should wear to the ball?” Draco moves the letter away from his face, letting his arm flop off the side of the couch. 

Y/N sets down her quill next to the divination chart she’s working on. “Last I heard from mum, she was sending me three to try in green, ice blue and some shade of purple. Do you care to look at the clippings of the different styles she owled me yesterday?”

“Not particularly,” Draco sighs, looking past her and into the distance. At Y/N’s beat of silence, Draco moves his eyes back to her. “I am sure whatever you pick will look very pretty,” he adds, lifting his mother’s letter to emphasize.

Y/N smiles a little despite herself. “I don’t know why she keeps writing you, my own mother is just as accessible.”

“I know!” Draco groans. The fire in the common room hearth gently illuminates his handsome features he’s grown into the past two years. Y/N goes back to her essay. “Pans still not talking to you?” Draco asks, tossing the letter on the table and turning on his side to look at Y/N more directly. 

Y/N just shakes her head. 

“Well, she’ll get over it soon enough, whatever it is.” 

But Y/N knew exactly the reason why Pansy wasn’t talking to her, and the reason was sitting right in front of her. Pansy could be stubborn sometimes, but this was going on for nearly a week now with no conversation outside of anything in a classroom, if that. “I just want us all to have a fun time at Christmas here,” Y/N sighs, resting her head on her hands. “It’s probably the only time our parents will let us stay here over break.”

Draco looks at Y/N sympathetically. “I know. I’ll try to talk to her again tomorrow. You sure you don’t know what’s got her bothered?”

Y/N bites her lip before deciding it’s stupid to hold out. “I think she’s upset about who she’s going to the ball with.”

“What?” Draco says, wrinkling his brow. “Why, what’s wrong with Theo?”

Y/N picks her quill back up and pretends to contemplate her essay agan, so her words seem more casual. “I think she’s upset that you didn’t ask her.”

“Well, that’s dumb. She knows damn well I can ask who I want, and I asked you.” Draco catches Y/N’s eyes and gives her a sly smile. “I’ll talk to her. I dunno what’s got her wand in such a twist these days.”

“Thanks, Draco.”

“Anytime. Hey, speaking of dates, who do you reckon Potter is bringing?”

“Maybe Snape.”

Draco laughs, and Y/N can’t help but feel warm inside.

Y/N is long past the shops, and is almost near what is considered the park for the area. Mostly a collection of short, winding trails through the trees, now transformed into a gigantic snowglobe in less than an hour. Bird sounds are amplified in the silence the snow brings, and two robins chase each other across the path. Their red feathers look beautiful against the white. Y/N walks her favorite trail, stopping to look at the frost covering the berries on a bush, and check a branch to see how many inches of snow have fallen so far. At the place where her path converges with another, she notices another set of footprints. They lead in the direction of the lake, and she decides to follow them, Y/N carefully stepping in the tracks of whoever came before her.

The snow has significantly improved Y/N’s mood. The snowflakes clinging to her hair and eyelashes make her feel like a winter fairie, and the combination of the wine and her layers has her feeling cozy against the cold. She crosses her feet over to fit in the footprints, like she’s walking a tightrope. Y/N is so focused on her footsteps again that she doesn’t realize right away that she’s reached the lake. 

When a familiar root forces her to take a large step into her next foorprint she looks up. The lake hasn’t frozen over yet, and it’s dark water stands out in contrast to the pale sky and landscape surrounding it. Even the bank on the other side is white, white, white, and Y/N’s gasp cuts through the quiet as she takes in the view. “Wow.”

Something in her peripheral vision moves, and Y/N turns to see what it was. Sitting on the bench facing the lake several feet away is Draco Malfoy. He’s the mirror image of the landscape she sees before him, all pale hair and face emerging from a black coat. And he looks positively scared to see Y/N.

It’s a look she knows all too well.

“Y/N,” Draco says, half greeting and half in surprise.

“Draco.” Y/N stares back, almost equally bewildered. “I… I was just thinking about you, actually.”

“That’s funny… so was I,” he says. “Would you like to come sit?”

Y/N makes her way over to the bench, and Draco pulls his wand out from his coat and melts the remaining snow on the bench. Y/N tucks her coat beneath her and sits down, unable to look away from Draco. Despite the fact that he still looks unsure, he’s not looking away either.

It’s been almost five years since Y/N has seen Draco. She can’t help but drink in the sight of him, just as handsome and heartbroken as the day he’d left. Already she’s shifting on the bench to face him.

“You look well,” Draco finally says.

“Funny, you don’t.”

Draco laughs. Really hard. “You can always tell, can’t you?”

Y/N just shrugs. “I am a talented witch, what can I say.”

Draco reaches out and fingers the edge of Y/N’s scarf, and her heart drops in her chest. She’d forgotten his initials were on display. “You kept this?”

Y/N is quite focused on Draco’s ungloved hand in close proximity to her body, but she does say, “I honestly had forgotten about it until today.”

Draco lets go of the scarf. “I remember when I gave that to you.”

“So do I.”

Draco doesn’t put his hand back into his pocket, and instead lets it rest on the bench in between them. 

“I miss you,” Y/N blurts out.

“Me, too,” Draco says immediately. 

Y/N scoots a fraction closer, and Draco’s hand moves from the bench to the top of Y/N’s knee.

Y/N curls closer into Draco’s lap, and dips her finger below the collar of Draco’s dress shirt to trail her nail up his neck and along his hairline. Draco runs his finger slowly back and forth across Y/N’s bare kneecap.

“Ugh,” Pansy pretends to act disgusted as she glares at her best friends from the opposite couch. “I can’t believe I used to want that.”

Daphne runs her fingers through Pansy’s hair affectionately, and Y/N can feel Draco’s laugh in his chest. “Yeah, and I can’t believe how much you acted like a bitch over it.”

Pansy rolls her eyes and just settles against Daphne. “That was like a month, Draco. Besides, nothing could ever separate me and Y/N.”

That night Y/N lays awake in the guest bedroom as Astoria sleeps in the twin bed opposite her. Pansy has ditched her this year to share with Daphne, which was expected, but didn’t make sleeping in the same room with Astoria any less weird to her. But it was fine, really. 

She checked the clock beside her bed. Almost one in the morning. 

Y/N threw back the covers, not bothering to hide her tracks. Astoria was a smart girl, and all the parents never bothered to check the rooms anymore. When Y/N reached Draco’s room around the corner, she just knocked once. The door flew open, revealing a tired, yet no less excited Draco. 

“Hey.”

“Hey.”

Draco grabbed her by the wrist and swept her inside. 

Y/N moved her hand to rest on top of Draco’s. “I miss everyone. But especially you.” She runs her thumb across Draco’s knuckles. “Are you busy tonight?”

“Absolutely free,” Draco says breathlessly.

“Good,” Y/N says, “because I still have half a bottle of wine to finish.”

[claudz-vision]

Extract:

_looking backward - and forward_

John 3:16

"There are two striking things in the text: *When God loves, He loves a world. When He gives, He gives His Son.*

That has been my message.

Out of a depth of long experience, the more I come in contact with men and women the world over, the more l am down to the bedrock of things, and your need and my need is God, every one of us, and the trouble with us all is that we don't recognize that we need God as much as we do. Our need is so desperate that only God dare tackle it. The only answer to the deepest need of your life and mine is God, and nothing else in the world will satisfy. When we try to alleviate our desires and hungers and thirsts and longings, by things we can handle or see in the shop windows, or on the stage, or anywhere in the world -books, literature, art -we are only aggravating the situation; We are only tantalizing our own infinite hunger. The only source of satisfaction and supply is God.

A friend of mine, who was a great preacher, and died only a little while ago, told me a story sometime before he died. He was staying with a friend, and, while dressing, out of his bedroom window he saw a seagull in his backyard with his wings clipped, tamed of course, because his wings were clipped. That poor seagull was trying to take a bath in a pie-dish filled with rain water. Fancy a seagull, born to free-wheel over an ocean, and born to circle the moon and the stars, a gull, the child of empires and worlds, trying to feed itself and satisfy itself in a pie-dish !

There are thousands of people who are doing no better than that today. We cannot satisfy our immortal interests, our divine nature, with the things that we can handle any more than that poor little clipped-wing seagull could satisfy himself in a pie-dish. We are made out of the material of which God builds the stars and the moon, and when they go out like sparks from a blacksmith's anvil, our hunger will still go on, if we do not bring that hunger into contact with the living God. We need Him. Our money, and home, and club, and friends, and pleasures, only aggravate the situation until we find our rest and our peace and our joy in God. There is no other source. We may listen to voices which will only aggravate the situation. The only source of relief and light and peace and joy for us is in God, and nowhere else. Why then,' says the prophet, 'spend your money for that which is not bread, and your labour for that which satisfieth not ?

I was lunching a few years ago in an American city with sixty millionaires, and I talked to them about their money and about their pleasures and about their magnificent homes and surroundings, and I asked those

millionaires if they found heartease in their money. Of course they didn't! A man needs more than money. He needs more than three square meals a day. He needs more than an automobile in which to ride.

A woman needs more than furs or jewels ; she needs more than flattery and lipstick. She needs more than all the gold the world can offer her; and so does the man, and the only source of peace is God.

When Jenny Lind could go to sleep on a pillow stuffed with the nation's praise, on a couch covered with flowers, somebody offered her an autobiography to sign. She wrote :

'I seek for rest, and at rest I cannot be until my soul finds rest in Thee.'

The scenes I have witnessed in the last few years have deepened my conviction that all the wild pleasure-seeking, all the feverishness of after-war years, were but symptomatic of a deeper hunger. Is that hunger being satisfied? The masses of the people have been restless, anxious, dissatisfied. It is not enough to supply them with even harmless amusements under the patronage of the Church. lt is not enough to give them interesting, topical sermons, based on the events of the day. They must be fed with the Bread of Life. They must drink of the Water of Life. The Church must, and I believe will, come back to its main, to indeed, its only business. I have seen the world grow tired of empty jazz. I have seen great scientists leading opinion away from a material to a spiritual interpretation of the universe. I have heard men and women sighing for a return to a simple faith, longing for spiritual leadership, impatient with creeds, ready to follow Christ. Prayer, Bible-reading, Church- going, sacramental devotion must once more be made the basis of religion. They have been allowed to decline, but before I die I believe I shall have seen the turning of the tide.

Among many treasures in my home are two pictures on the wall of my bedroom. One is a picture of the wagon in which my mother died, and the other is a group or Gipsies. I never sleep in that room without looking at these pictures, and saying to myself, "Rodney, you would have been there today but for the Grace of God.

Glory be to His name for ever !"

_Gipsy Smith

(the Beauty of Jesus)

[mystery-pines]

Hhhh self indulgent claude x reader bit i wrote

I have an obsession

Its probably bad lol

Just wanted to write and had an idea

Songs listened to while writing-

Up in our bedroom after the war - stars

Promise im trying - cavetown

Edge of dawn (whistle & acoustic cover) - joe zieja

Part 1

Wake up

so much noise, yet it seems so peaceful. A soft melody play in my head, while i lay helplessly on the ground. I can barely thing, broken and bloody. Im so tired. Maybe i should just sleep. Just before i close my eyes, i see a familiar figure. If i die here, i'm glad he was the last thing i see. 

my eyes close. Just as he reaches me. 

Warm arms surround my body, his own pressing against mine as a shadow looms above. Warm drops of water splash onto my head, slipping down and mixing with the blood on my cheek. 

He presses against me, muttering words under his breath. 

A victory shout sounds out above the crowd, proud soldiers of the monastery raise their swords and bows to the sky, singing praises and cheers of victory.

And yet to the king, it felt as though he may lose.

Soon, shouts from those recognized ring out. friends rush to the king's side, shouting concerns. Yet all drowned out by his thoughts. Was he going to lose me here? Was his promise futile?

No, he would not let that be so.

He looks to his friends, still holding my limp, broken body in my arms. He blinks away tears as he addresses them,

"My friends, it's been awhile. Im sorry to have met with you again on such terms…"

A white-haired girl speaks out first,

"Oh, quit it claude! Get her to the infirmary!"

Claude, the king of almyra, nods, though a bit hesitant. He immediately turns towards the monastery, possibly the only hope for his fallen lover. He runs towards it, careful with me in his arms. Luckily it wasn't too far away.

He ran straight to the infirmary, ignoring the urgent questions of the nurses; putting me in a bed carefully.

Claude sighs, sitting down and holding one of my hands, turning to the nurses; mercedes and marianne being two of the three present. The blue-haired marianne crossed her arms and looked at claude with a stern gaze,

"Its been a year since you disappeared-" she scolded, "and you appear out of the blue, with the injured professor, no less. You've arrived at the end of a war, claude! Where have you been, what have you been doing?"

Claude's usual smug grin had disappeared, and had finally grown to a frown,  

"I was in almyra- the king, now. Luckily for you, i got here in time to save you from the clutches of defeat" 

Marianne sighs, her stern gaze falling back to a kind, gentle and yet tired one. She walks over to my side, casting a quick spell, then checking my pulse,

"Well. You came at just the right time," she says, "any later and our professor might've died" 

Claude looks at me, focused. He squeezes my hand gently,

"I know." 

Mercedes moves around him, examining my wounds,

"Based on her state as of now, it may be a few days before she wakes up…"

The king smiles down at me, delicately sweeping hair away from my forehead, behind my ears,

"Hey, at least she's alive"

This little statement causes marianne to smile,

"Thats just like you, always looking on the bright side," she pauses, dampening a washcloth, "welcome back, claude. Go say hi to our old classmates"

My golden deer sighs, gently brushing my knuckles with a kiss, then obliging. Just before leaving the room, he graces those in presence with just a few last words. Mostly addressing my unconscious form,

"I will come back, and i promise you, when you wake up, i will not leave your side again"

[ashes-and-ashes]

Okay, so I probably will rewrite this because I am sleep deprived haha. Apologies for typos and the like.

As you may know, I recently got really into Kpop, and I wrote this while listening to The Truth Untold by BTS and Steve Aoki. It’s about a boy who loves a girl, however, the boy is afraid to admit that he loves her because of his monsterous appearance. That instantly screamed Wolfstar Angst to me, so I wrote it!

tw: self harm and suicide attempts

~

The spell hit Sirius, right in the stomach, making him gasp.

He instantly recognized this, recognized the freezing and the numbing and the agonizing pain that was about to hit. His mother used to use it on him, before he left.

His head was spinning. He could hear Bellatrix’s laughs, though they sounded distant, as if she was shrieking through layers of water.

He flung one hand out, fingers brushing the smooth surface of the stone pillar, making his fingers go numb. The world had turned golden, lights spinning around above his head, lights that were the exact colour of Remus’ eyes. He was falling backwards, into nothing but open air, everything slowing down until he could see his life flash by in the spaces between his heartbeat.

He was 9 years old, sobbing on the ground, Walburga’s slap an ugly brand across his cheekbone. He could barely remember why she had hit him - he was too loud and she was too drunk, like some dangerous combination bubbling under the surface. It wasn’t the first time she had hit him, but it was the first time she had broken skin. One of her rings had caught the skin at his cheek, tearing it open; he remembers the vibrant red of his blood against his fingers. He curled up on his side, clutching his cheek, counting down the days until he was free.

He was 10 years old, arms aching where Walburga had gripped them. She had disguised it, of course, pretended it was a loving hug from a loving mother, but the bruises still stood out on Sirius’ arm. Don’t disgrace our family, she had hissed, voice poisonous as she shoved Sirius towards the train.

He didn’t know what he expected - the usual crowd of rich Slytherins and snobbish children, the type of people he was sued to associating with every day. He didn’t expect to run into Remus.

And they were only 10, too young for what they both had to bear, but all Sirius could think was he’s scarred like me.

He’s 13 now, heart pounding as he stared at Remus. They were in the library, him and James and Peter, Remus standing in front of them. His eyes were wide, filled with fear and Sirius wondered if he looked like this whenever his mother beat him.

A werewolf. That’s what Remus was, how Remus got his scars. He had seen them, of course, stretching across Remus’ chest and back, huge lashes of raised flesh across his ribs. Sirius stared at the mark on Remus’ shoulder, circular punctures arranged in a neat circle and he felt his throat close up.

“Please,” Remus whispered. “Don’t...don’t tell anyone.”

Sirius let out a shaky breath. “Of course,” he said. “Why would we?”

He’s 14 years old and he’s in love with Remus.

Of course, he’s not sure what love is. He knows it isn’t the coldness of his parents, separate bedrooms and days without speaking. He knows it isn’t what he felt for James, or for Peter, for Marlene and for Dorcas.

It was something different, something so strong he thought he might choke on it, something that kept him up at night and made him want to scream.

And he knows it’s wrong, knows that he’s disgusting, knows that life didn’t work out like that and Remus would never love him back but he can’t stop himself. He tries, pushes Remus away with cruel words and even crueler remarks but the only thing he succeeds in doing is breaking his own heart.

He’s 15 now, his arm slung over Remus’, the two of them standing on the roof of Gryffindor tower. The light hit them perfectly, bathing everything in various shades of gold and they looked like angels.

He’s long given up on any hope of loving Remus, has tried to move on as best as possible. He’s dated people, had tried everything to bury his feelings but he knows he can’t. It was like a fire underneath his skin; every movement hurt, reminded him of what he couldn’t have and every time he looked at Remus he felt the flames rise.

And he knows not to give in, knows that to do so will consume him, burn him alive but he can’t stop himself from staring at Remus’ lips.

“What does it feel like,” he whispered, staring at the water, “To love someone. And you know you can’t. But you still do.”

Remus let out a steady breath. It was one of the things he loved about Remus, the absolute unwavering way he stood, the rock-solid foundation that he had built his life upon. “I don’t know,” he said. “It’s like...like water I guess. You find yourself drowning in it and you can’t get out. It sucks you in deeper and deeper until you can’t breathe.”

Sirius stared at Remus in surprise. “Remus - “

Remus kissed him.

And how many people has he kissed? How many drunken nights and desperate clutching, how many people had he been with? And none of them, none of them held a candle to what he felt for Remus, a raging inferno inside his veins, burning and shredding until everything was gone.

He’s still 15, curled on the floor, slowly bleeding out, body screaming. Fire moves up and down his back; he had curled over after the first Crucio, leaving the broad expanse of his back vulnerable to everything else. He doesn’t even need to look to know the damage, the bleeding cuts and the lashes and the burns. He’s dealt with enough injuries to know when he’s about to collapse, knows how to swallow his screams and let blood replace tears but he doesn’t know if he can survive much longer in this house.

He’s 16 now, and God he wishes he was back on the floor, back to bleeding out. It would hurt less then seeing Remus, dead to the world on the hospital bed, bandages on his arms and his ribs, wounds from claw marks and antlers covering his body.

He fucked up. He knows this, knows this so damn well and God he wishes he could turn back time, could go back, could keep his mouth shut for once in his goddamn life.

He remembers lying in the floor, blood covering his body, Snape’s leering face over his. He remembers the panic that filled him, the memories of his mother and spells and blood and the words came tumbling out.

“You can’t. He’s not himself. He’ll kill you.”

The look of triumph on Snape’s face made him want to throw up, made him want to smash something.

“He’ll kill you first,” Snape told him, and then Sirius passed out.

He’s 19 now, fighting in a war that he was too young for, fighting for the boy at his side. He kills and kills and kills and at night the bodies parade in front of his eyes, lines and lines of the resting dead.

He always refused to remove the masks, refused to see which members of his family that he’s killed. Better to not know, to turn up to the funerals wondering if their blood was on his hands. Better to run then to face the truth.

And they’ve all changed. He used to dream of Remus, of their potential life together and now he dreams of fire and dust and dead bodies.

They rarely talk. Remus is gone, at one of the werewolf camps, people dropping dead around them. They all think he’s the Spy, though Sirius can’t accept it. He runs instead, runs away, spends the precious time they have together fucking instead of talking, keeps everything moving as fast as possible. Better to go out with a bang, he thinks, to have something beautiful and then vibrant and then gone then to deal with a long lasting candle wick.

He’s 21 and he’s in Azkaban.

More bodies join his dreams now: James’ twisted face and Lily’s red hair, Regulus’ emcated frame, Marlene’s cracked neck, Dorcas’ severed head and the bloodied bodies of Fabian and Gideon.

There’s nothing to do. He grips the bars, lets the metal sear scars into his palm, punches the walls until he feels his fingers crack. He slices his arms, over and over again, hoping to feel something, anything, hoping that something will rip and he’d bleed out on the floor.

His life flashes by, streaked with white lights. Sirius sees himself, starving and thin, remembers he freezing cold waters. He remembers seeing Harry, his chest clenching because God he looked like James and he was 17 all over again. He remembers talking with him, telling Harry stories of his father, the old fire slowly igniting.

And Remus. He used to count how many people he’d die for but Remus was the only person he’d kill for. He was a part of Sirius, something that had grown into him, something beautiful and wonderful and strange, someone who was as damaged as Sirius was and yet still made him feel whole.

He was still falling, feeling like he was flying, backwards into the air, but all Sirius could think was that he was grateful, grateful for a brief spark of light in his fucked up life.

He could hear screaming now, hear the last pounding echoes of his heart but all Sirius could do was lock eyes with Remus.

I love you, he mouthed, hoping that he could convey everything, every whispered conversation, every kiss, every night spent underneath the stars. A life, written out in scars and blood, in touches and hidden glances and impossible, beautiful joinings, the places where their lives intertwined.

So Sirius swallowed his tears, swallowed the burning in his throat and closed his eyes. He could finally rest.

Sirius fell through the veil.

[onthesandsofdreams]

A Love Like Ours [Chapter 1]

Fandom: Star Wars Pairing: Rey x Poe Dameron Rating: T Words: 1009 Notes: A series of drabbles and short stories based on a prompt list. Every drabble/short story is different, chapter 1 in AO3 is the list. Today prompts are 9.- “You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!” & 12.- “You’re getting crumbs all over my bed.” For any and all DameRey fans. Enjoy!

The Series | Read @ AO3 

Poe Dameron has the best sort of relationship problem. Because it wasn’t really a problem, just a small annoyance; but one he liked to tease Rey with. Rey liked eating on their bed. 

Tonight was Christmas Eve and Rey had gone to bed earlier, Poe had chosen to stay up later so he could talk to his dad. His father had taken Han and Leia’s invitation and had chosen to spend Christmas in Colorado, with the excuse that he wanted to enjoy the snow with older people.

Rey and Poe had chosen to stay behind, so Rey’s grandfather, Obi-Wan, would not spend Christmas alone now that he was getting on in age. So, Poe and Rey offered to host him and now, he was sleeping on one of their guest bedrooms.

“I know pa,” Poe spoke to the phone as he switched channels idly. “Don’t you worry, we’re fine. Yes, I made dinner, no Rey only helped with the chopping. Bless her, she’s completely lost in the kitchen. Obi-Wan is asleep now. How are Han and Leia? Having a good time in the snow?”

Poe listened as his father spoke to him, yes, he missed Kes, but they would see each other soon. And by the sound of his voice, his father was quite animated and obviously having a good time. Poe was glad of it, his father deserved to have fun and enjoy himself. Poe had not said anything, but Rey and himself were trying for a baby and he knew that, when it happened and the baby were here, Kes would be over the moon for his grandchild and spend his love, energy and time spoiling the kid.

“Sounds fun pa,” Poe smiled even if Kes couldn’t see it. “Glad you’re having fun. Rey? In bed… no, I just wanted to talk to you, I promise. Ok, fine. I can’t believe that I’m letting you send me to bed. No pa, don’t worry about it. Goodnight, I love you too.”

Poe hung up and set his phone next to him, it wasn’t terribly late yet. He could still stay and watch something else without bothering Rey. He sat up when he felt something hit his legs. Beebee. Poe relaxed and bent to scratch the corgi’s head. Then looked at the television, re-runs of Christmas shows, he turned it off. He stood up. “Goodnight buddy.”

Poe climbed the stairs as silently as he could, not wanting to disturb either sleeping person. But as he came closer to the room that he shared with Rey, he could hear the soft sounds of television and something else. Poe narrowed his eyes. Then, with care, opened the door to the room and as soon as he did, he rolled his eyes.

Rey was up, box of butter cookies in her lap, happily munching away as she watched ‘Murder, She Wrote’ re-runs. He coughed and when Rey turned, he nearly burst out laughing. Rey’s face was a mixture of surprise and full cheeks. She looked adorable. But… crumbs on the bed. He arched his eyebrow, looked pointedly at the bed. “You’re getting crumbs all over my bed. And here I was thinking, that we had banned food on the bed.”

Rey swallowed the cookie and shook her head. “I didn’t. You did.”

Poe walked into their room and closed the door, once inside, he began to undress. Being a military man had left him some routines. Undressing, folding his clothes and pajamas was something he did on autopilot. “For a reason. It can be annoying to find crumbs in the bed.”

“It’s only on my side, though.”

“Ah, but we sometimes aren’t simply on one side, are we?” Poe threw Rey a flirty smirk and wink. Relishing as Rey’s cheeks flushed, even in the low light of the television, he could see it.

“Honestly Poe.”

Poe climbed into his side of the bed. “Oh and Rey? You’re banned from our bed for a week.” He turned and gave her his back, biting down a laugh as he heard her sputter indignantly.

“You can’t banish me! This is my bed too!”

“Well, I just did. Goodnight love, enjoy the guest bedroom.” He closed his eyes, thinking of boring things, avoiding to laugh at Rey’s obvious indignation.

“Poe Dameron, you simply can’t banish me from our bed!”

“Well, I just did. Goodnight Rey, sleep well sweetheart. Turn the tv off when you leave.” He finished speaking and pretended to be asleep. Fully aware of Rey glaring daggers at his back. Then he felt her move, she left the bed and nearly stomped out of the room. Poe allowed himself a chuckle.

A few minutes later, Rey came back and began making noise. It was very clearly the hand vacuum they owned. Now he understood why Obi-Wan had gifted it after they had bought the house. Poe didn’t speak and neither did Rey. The only noise came from the tv and vacuum. Then, a few - very long - minutes later, Rey turned the vacuum off.

“All clean, unbanish me.”

Poe couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing and got a pillow to his head for his troubles. “Ok, fine. Unbanished.”

Poe felt the bed dip and Rey climb in, “You’re a mean one Mr. Dameron.”

“I just want the bed free of crumbs, sweetheart,” Poe said, still chuckling. “But since you cleaned up, that’s fine.” He turned towards Rey and opened his arms, Rey didn’t waste any time to cuddle with him. “Let’s sleep, we have presents to open tomorrow.”

“Goodnight Poe,” Rey said as she yawned. “I love you.”

“I know. I love you too.”

***

The next morning, both Poe and Obi-Wan opened a small box to find baby booties in it. Poe felt a rush of love wash over him and hugged Rey tightly. Obi-Wan simply wiped tears from his eyes and smiled at the couple.

“Best Christmas gift ever.” Poe said and kissed Rey deeply.

“I love you, Commander Dameron. Or should I say, we love you?”

“I love you both.”

[space-blue]

Time’s Arrow

I wrote this in memory of a man I was smitten with for a long long time... It is the only story where I wrote a passage that felt written through me, made perfect by some greater force. A flow as good and deep as during your best tetris jams...

'Damn Ellen, Paris is off the maps forever isn't it?'

'Looks like it. No more visits to the Louvre for our holidays.'

'Well, instead of visiting the museums, we'll get to visit the Glass Sea of Paris.'

'When radiations cool, in half a million years?'

'You know this is the work of Russia's Harbingers. It's gonna be fine for tourism in fifty years tops.'

'How can you tell it's the Russians behind that? The news don't know yet.'

'It's a safe bet. Of all our enemies, no one else has the missiles required to fuse stuff the way that news drone is showing. At least not enough for a crater the size of Paris.'

'Fair point, Bobby.'

My husband is smart even when he's drunk, or rather, he becomes sloppy a while after I'm too drunk to notice. The news on TV have been drinking material for weeks now, but we try to contain both our drinking and TV time. Our little wine shelf is almost empty, and we need to keep the best for our last evening.

'I still can't believe it's all happening.'

'Yeah, feels like we'll realise we were watching the Sci-fi channel all along, doesn't it?'

Except there are no more fancy channels now. I let myself slump against Bobby. The world swirls, like we're on a raft. Adrift and going down the drain. I feel his fingers plunge in my hair, his voice rumble out of his chest as he comments on the never ending horror show of the news. I need to sleep. We have so much work to do, and so little time to finish now.

----

In my dreams I'm twenty and Bobby thirty-five again, just old enough to feel scandalous, but smart enough to obsess me. We meet once more in the hall of my building at NASA. Our programs, about to join and merge like our lives and our love later would, is still about space exploration, and not yet about human survival. But time has gone by, as time is wont to do. The past only lives in my dreams.

----

One day I had offered to exit stasis first, and spend a few years setting up our new abode, developing relationships with our new neighbours–if there were any–just to even out our age gap. He'd laughed at that, refused to be robbed of the privileges of a young wife.

"Besides," he'd said, "if the dinosaurs are back, I'd want to be there to defend you, tame them and learn to ride them..."

"If our stasis tanks last long enough for dinos to re-evolve, we could give ourselves a Nobel Prize of all sciences compounded."

Truth is, we don't know how they'll fare, or if they'll even take us through the war, as brief as it'll probably be. We've tested them before, short sleeps increasing to two full years in 2036-38. Our tanks have few changes from the original deep-pods we built for NASA. But a single glitch could mean death. I plunge my hand in the depth of a panel, feeling my way up the thick cooling lines and slowly tugging coils of them out in the open. Ten years working on these machines and I still can't shake the feeling of disembowelling them when the cables flop in my lap. A huntress in a lab-coat, oil a dark-blue blood under my nails. I run my fingers along the length of the cables, inspecting every joint, looking for wear and pieces to replace. How many years before one of them ruptures, a tremor from our dying world snaps them out of place? The deep-stasis pods Bobby and I worked on at NASA were meant to last almost indefinitely, easily up to a century without physical check-up, but within ships which propel themselves smoothly, and won't risk getting bombed or running out of power.

'Bobby, which wires did you say you wanted me to look at? This is all fine.'

'Bundle B1A, Ellen. And maybe T4A too, if you have time.'

'I always have time for this. If you're worried, then so am I.'

'I'm sure it'll be fine. The installation is ready, the power systems have been running smoothly for years. The sleep should go as planned.' He cleans his hands in a rag. 'All the auxiliary systems are good, I'm done with my check list, and just in time.'

I make a face at my handsome, grubby looking husband.

'I wish we could go back in time, instead of freezing it.'

'We're not freezing time, only removing ourselves from it.'

'Nothing in physics keeps time from flowing back, I wish I had studied more... Invented something to turn the arrow of time.'

I picture the glass sea of Paris contracting, liquefying itself in a mass of living people, monuments and pastry shops, the missile collecting its fragments and taking flight, propelled only by the inexorability of time. I imagine arguments being swallowed back, wine spit in glasses and gurgling up bottles. I imagine my ring sliding off my finger, Bobby's lips hot on mine for the first time again, and then unknown to me. Time doesn't seem to ever be kind.

----

Many cities have joined Paris into oblivion before the TV went quiet, and we drink in their name, and the name of all the people snuffed out by the war. The wine is red, french, our best and last bottle. Bobby looks at me anxiously before opening it. He fears it might have turned to vinegar. But it hasn't, and we make the best of it, drinking and fucking like teenagers all night long.

When morning comes we leave our bedroom for the cellar, bleary eyed, down our bunker, to our new beds.

'Ellen, Ellen, I'm scared.' His hands are around my face, cupping it behind my ears, turning me in some sort of parabolic dish directed towards him, tuned to receive the warm radiations of his love. 'I'm so scared of losing you.'

I cover his hands with mine and tell him how since I love him more, I'm the most scared, and drink in the sight of his face crinkling in a lavish smile.

'I'll see you in a hundred years handsome, but it'll feel like ten minutes, like last time. And we'll be together again.'

I hate to see him like that in his tank. It feels like bending over a metal coffin. I kiss him deeply, listen to his speech slur as the drugs take over, his eyes, until last, never leaving mine.

My own tank is cold and clammy, and the slow chime of the console as the computer helps me launch the last protocols sounds like a soft electronic bedtime tune. I listen to my breath, to my slowing heart, and the world goes dark.

----

Waking is horrible, no matter how long you've slept. I've been puking for a while, panting, coughing, and my head won't stop spinning. I'm halfway out of my tank, shivering in the cold air. There are voices speaking all around me, and a thick cover wraps my shoulders.

'Bobby?'

'Nej, sisa.'

'Huh?'

I look up into the face of a complete stranger. A woman, making cooing sounds at me. Around us are bright lights and more people wearing face masks.

'What the...'

Behind her shoulder, Bobby's tank is open. My mind trips to make sense of how open it is. Panels unscrewed, bowels dark and grey and missing. It's so wrong.

They're taking me away, I'm too weak to fight it. They're not slowing down, no matter how loud I cry.

----

A man settles in front of me, and props a little apparatus on his knees. It's a flat, metallic object, the size of a hand, without screens or special features. He taps it, speaks over it in his alien tongue, and the machine translates his words to English.

'My name is Martek, I am Fransken. How do you feel? Do you need medical attention? What is your name?'

I gape. Questions fight to come out first.

'I'm fine, my name is Ellen Vorden, I–'

The man smiles at me, and repeats my name.

'What year is this?'

'We're in 1750.'

'What?'

For a moment I think of the year 1750, however impossible Time Travel might be. But the man's smart black clothes, long braided hair and advanced technology don't look very industrial revolution.

'Ah, sorry' Martek flushes, 'in old English it is the year 2350.'

It takes me a long time to process that, to imagine how a hundred years sleep more than doubled itself. The best explanation...

'Where is Bobby?'

No. No, why is he frowning?

'The man in the other machine?'

'Yes.'

----

He left me a message, of the sort that could withstand time, carved and gouged into the stone floor. Like an old pyramid treasure room, they unearthed our little bunker and found us, relics of the past. Me in my metal sarcophagi, Bobby a skeleton propped at my side. From what I gathered, critical system failures made the computer launch his awakening eighty-eight years in our sleep. With irreplaceable broken parts in his stasis monitor, there was no going back to sleep for him. Outside data must have been terrible, because he chose to dismantle his tank to tinker and enhance mine. At the bottom of his message are some universal scribbles, present over all the greatest buildings of mankind and whatever school desks might have survived the ages: a B+E in the middle of a heart, and under it 2030– and the looped symbol of eternity. Time folded back on itself.

Ah, Bobby, you tacky bastard, you old romantic. How do I live after you?

----

Ellen love, I hope you make it and we won't go down in history as another stupid, star-crossed couple of scientists. I had no choice. I watch you sleep. It's so hard to keep from waking you up. I think of Time like you did sometimes, wishing for it to roll back. But it doesn't. You'll have to let it flow too, when you wake up. I hope the world will be a better place then. Until the universe cools and time ceases to matter, when past is present and we can be together again, you touring me around your labs, proud like a little peacock, so adorable, so brilliant – I'll be yours, always.

Bobby

~~ November 2016 – Theme : 1750

[kosmosian-quills]

Camp NaNo - Day 6

I hope everyone is doing well! Sorry for the lack of updates, I have been having something of a rough time with family at the moment but I’ve been trying to keep on top of writing at least.

Anyway, this is a direct follow-up to the drabble I posted on Day 1. I used (and edited) a small portion of the Week 2 Backstory drabble I did for Anjelika, because I could make it fit :)

I hope you enjoy!

Why is it that whenever I enter a room, the smiles fade and the laughter dies?

It’s every time, without fail, and I can only feel immense jealousy at the thought that they are laughing. Smiling. Enjoying their time together and my absence is the only reason they are able to do so.

It has been three weeks since they moved here to work for me, and have done their jobs as required of them, but they all seem rather reserved, keeping to themselves. I’m not surprised, or rather, I shouldn’t be. They’re away from home, probably for the first time in their lives, and in a very hands on job that they were chosen for. It must be intimidating, for them to leave their family and friends behind like that.

At least, that’s what I thought was happening. I thought that all I was seeing was the whole story. But as I should know by now, it never is.

I can hear them from where I stand, behind the cold wooden door. My hand is poised just an inch away from it, but I daren’t knock. I just freeze in place, listening to the conversation on the other side of that door. It’s Zofia’s bedroom, but she isn’t in there alone. It sounds like the other four are in there too.

I want to go in there and join them, I want to know what they’re laughing at, I want to know what makes them so happy.

But I can’t.

I just know that it will stop the moment I do, and it will only deepen the rift between us. I can’t help it, though. I would like to be a part of that, a part of their normal conversations. All of mine are some kind of script, whether I like it or not.

I want to go and be with them, but I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how.

I concede defeat here, and soundlessly walk back to my room, closing the door behind me, leaving me feeling more alone than I have ever felt in my life.

I like to think that I have a good relationship with my father. He trusts me, he treats me like an adult, and involves me in some matters regarding the running of a country.

Today, we’re having lunch together and discussing such matters. Nothing too outlandish or problematic. Thankfully trivial matters. Easily solved matters - the regenerative projects in wildlife conservation sites.

Father is a good man, I believe, doing what he can for the betterment of our citizens. It’s not an easy job for him, and I should know based on what I have been studying under him.

He’s not a young man anymore. Nearly in his 50’s now, and that was certainly clear in his face, yet his appearance still maintained the dignity and vigour of his younger years. His dark brown hair thinning out with wisps of grey sneaking through.

He’s sat as perfectly postured as he usually is, spine straight yet leaned forwards towards the desk, looking over his documents with me. The various files and reports of the non-urgent matters that need dealing with.

Someone outside knocks on the door, and father calls to them. “Come in,” in that commanding tone he’s used to

I take a sip of my tea as the door swings open, and in steps one of my father’s most trusted advisers.

General Gniewek was rather like father, certainly not far behind in his age, but he was a soldier for many years before ascending the ranks to become my father’s military adviser. I personally see no need for him. We aren’t at war, and don’t ever want to be. We are only a small island, after all, antagonising another country would be suicide.

The General was tall, well built and you could tell he still partakes in exercises to maintain his fitness. Well, he needs it I suppose, as a military man. His dark green coat with golden shoulder pads and the little stars on the lapel of his jacket, all fine intricacies that really show what he has done for this country.

“Your Majesties,” he stands by the door for a moment, saluting us with his cap tucked under one of his arms.

My father acknowledges him, and bids him to approach.

Just because I see no reason for his job, does not mean that I don’t respect him and his loyalty to my father. I nod as he approaches. I have no reason to speak with him, just as he has no reason to speak to me. Well, I think, anyway.

“How are things, General?”

“Personally or professionally, your majesty?”

Father chuckles. “Well, both, I suppose. At ease.”

“Things are good, personally. I have a few concerns, however, that I feel need to be addressed, your majesty.” He tells us, looking right at my father, with him still stood across the desk from us.

I put my teacup down on the saucer, and wait for him to continue.

“Like what, General?”

“I have received multiple reports that there is growing dissent among the population regarding the Royal Family. People are wondering what you even do in this day and age, as opposed to the democratic leaders.”

I shortly look over at my father. This is certainly worrisome to me, at least a little, because this is indeed the kind of thing that father needs me to be aware of. This is a problem that will pass to me if not dealt with, but how to deal with it is a mystery to me. I don’t know how on earth I would start to deal with this.

“And there has been a slow rise in hate groups in the last month. Not many, but if this is allowed to fester things will get worse.”

Father looks across at me, and I look back at him, waiting for his response.

“You know, General, I believe my daughter could be of some use to us, here,” he says, adjusting his seated position slightly.

I feel my voice catch in my throat, and stammer, “m-me, father?” I don’t know what he has planned, but I am now definitely very worried indeed.

“Please, do tell, your Majesty.”

Father turns aside to face me, almost disregarding what the General said to him. “How are things with your Maidens of Honour, Anjelika?”

I frown a little, puzzled at the question, and answer slowly, hesitantly. Where is he going with this? “Unclear, father.”

“Well, the way I see it, we need some way to improve our public standing and image, correct?” he doesn’t wait for an answer, but does pause for an ever so brief moment before continuing. “You should do well-meaning public appearances with your Maidens of Honour. Act like their friend. Make our image a little more promising. And besides… you’re going to be the Queen one day, the public should see and get to know more about who exactly that Queen is going to be. Give them confidence, faith that the future is in very good hands for them.”

I think I understand his reasoning. It’s not without logic, certainly. It would be a nice way to get to know them, too, since I spent most of the last few nights wondering how to do that.

“So, you want me to make friends with my Maidens of Honour, father?” I ask him, slowly, making sure I understand what he was asking of me.

“Not necessarily, Anjelika. They are your companions, but I certainly don’t expect you to be real friends with them.”

“But you just said that you want me to be their friend…”

“Your highness,” the General interrupts me. “Your father’s idea is sound, but he does not require you to become close with your Maidens of Honour. Simply act like it.”

Act like it.

Make a big lie out of our relationship?

Make it all a fraud?

That seems… disingenuous. It seems wrong. I don’t want to lie to them. Until now, I wanted to really become their friend, but to be told to fake the relationship for the betterment of my father - of me - seems like a terrible thing for me to do. It won’t be real, what if they think it is?

How do they think I should even do this? What should I… what should I do?

“Put on an act, for the public, and things will be far easier for everyone. Do you understand me, Anjelika?”

I look down at my hands, wondering just how he wants me to do this. It seems so, so wrong, I don’t like this idea at all.

“Yes, father,” I reply, looking back up at him, “I will.”

I don’t even listen to the pair of them now, what they’re talking about in there. It just doesn’t seem real at all. What they’re asking of me. Did father ever do this with his Grooms of the Stole? Lead them on a hunt for a friendship that was never real to begin with? I can’t believe it, honestly.

I was struggling to think of ways to even approach my Maidens on a normal day, so how on earth am I supposed to make a fake friendship when I don’t even know what a real one is?

I suddenly remembered the letter I was delivered this morning. How Irena had delivered it with a straight face and a curtsy. The thick parchment, my name in loopy calligraphy, and the contents that made my chest feel so much lighter. I know exactly who wrote it to me without even opening it, and inside was an invitation. To go see them, so go back home.

Perhaps my grandfather has an idea for what to do here.

[miraclealignersv]

Welcome home (Stephen Strange x reader)

MINOR ENDGAME SPOILERS

Summary: after the decimation, Stephen comes back to not only a battle but to another surprise.

A/N: yeah so I wrote a second part to the very first fanfic I ever wrote. After watching Endgame, which completely ended me I’m still so devastated, I kept thinking about Sleep talking. soooooo... there are a few Endgame Spoilers ahead so beware of that.

First part here

*

Everything went by fast, too fast. One second everyone thought they had saved the universe, then the other the Avengers tower was in shambles. Y/n laid on her stomach next to a piece of debris, somewhere near her something was on fire. She coughed and groaned, as she did she felt pain radiating down her abdomen. Pushing her self up she brought her hand down to her stomach and saw a cut through her suit and groaned.

Y/n closed her eyes and exhaled deeply before running towards Steve and the Titan, as she did she grabbed her katanas from her back and yelled out.

“Shield!” She yelled, Steve threw it just the right height for her to jump off of it and planted one of her katana swords on Thano’s shoulder. Steve distracting him as she tried to cause more injury. It worked for a while until Thanos threw her at Steve sending both into a piece of the fallen tower.

“You alright kid?” Steve asked panting, y/n groaned at the question and held her stomach. She heard Thanos call the rest of his army, thousands of creatures coming to attack them.

“Holy shit” she whispered, “I have my gun and a couple rounds of amo along with escrima sticks I don’t thinks it’s enough to hold him cap” she hissed as Thor made his way towards them.

Shakily Steve stood up, he gave y/n a reassuring nod as he walked towards the line in front of Thanos. They exchanged words, but in that moment she couldn’t hear much from the ringing in her ears. Y/n only saw Steve get a hold of what was left of his shield, slowly she stood up and grabbed her sword.

“Steve, you tell my kids I love them” she whispered as she stood besides them, Steve swallowed hard. He froze as he heard something through his com, someone familiar. Before he could say anything y/n heard the all too familiar cackling of a portal opening. She turned and saw three people: Okoye, Tchalla and Shuri. Y/n gasped as more people appeared, she felt tears in her eyes as Wong stepped out and looked directly at her. She waited for something, anything. Until he gave her a nod.

More and more people stepped out of the portals, until she saw the one person. Her husband, stepping out of one of them. She gasped and held her breath. Stephen turned her way and froze at the sight of his wife. It has been forever, forever since they last held each other.

In that moment, y/n wanted to forget about the battle and run towards her husband. She wanted to let him know about their kids, how much she’s missed him and just hold him tight and never let go. But there were other things at hand, the universe depended on them.

“Avengers!” Steve called out as they waited for their cue, y/n watched the line with tears in her eyes “assemble” he finished as they all ran towards Thanos’ armies. All fighting for revenge and redemption.

Y/n ran towards one of them, tall and strong. She raised her sword up and attacked it along with another two that were caught off guard. Once she had killed the other two and was focused on the tall one she felt it grab her and throw her at something, more or so someone. She groaned and held her side as she sat up looking down at the figure.

“Beloved” the deep voice she missed so much spoke, she gasped and watched as her husband stood up and gave her his shaky hand.

“Stephen” she whispered as she pulled him into a long kiss and pulled apart, there were tears in her eyes. She was happy and she knew that her kids would be too, they would finally meet their dad.

“How’s our child?” He asked, his eyes getting lost in her features. Y/n furrowed her brows and shook her head.

“How did you- you knew I was pregnant?” She asked as one of the creatures ran toward them. She grabbed the katana and sliced, Stephen chuckled as they stood back to back and fought up incoming rabid things.

“Of course I knew” he rolled his eyes and kicked one of them off as she jumped in and stabbed it.

“Our children are amazing” She grunted as she kicked another one and sliced. Stephen pauses his fighting as she continued to tear the things apart.

“Children as in more than one?” He asked, y/n grunted and jumped off a piece of what seemed the training room in the tower and stabbed one of the aliens.

“Surpriiiisee “ she sang as she removed her sword and looked up at Stephen who saw the small lake that was near the tower come towards them. He used his scorcey to control it, but in the moment another one of the creatures ran towards him. “Beam me!” She yelled, a small patch of orange floated off the ground. Running towards it she grabbed her gun and flipped in mid air pointing the gun and shooting the thing before it got to her husband.

“You were saying?” He asked, y/n rolled her eyes and set grabbed her knife from her side and kept fighting. She panted and kicked the things as they came, Stephen doing the same.

“Twin-“ she yelled out before something grabbed her and threw her. Stephen turned to the new type of creature that attacked his wife and restrained is as he fought another next to him. Y/n stood up and ran towards the thing with her katana. Before she can do anything else she paused and turned to her husband. "Twins'' she answered before running towards Peter who had the gauntlet gripped tight.

*

Both Stephen and Y/n headed home, home not being the sanctum but the home she had with her children. She reached for the key under the flower pot and walked in to hear the silence of the tv. Y/n realized that it was late and the kids had fallen asleep along with Katy, their babysitter.

Meanwhile, Stephen froze outside of the house, nervous to meet his children. Y/n turned to him and grabbed his hand, pulling him towards the house. His hand instinctivley wrapped around her waist, he kept it there afraid to let her go.

"Do they know who I am?'' he asked, y/n smiled,she brought her hand up and placed it on his jaw and gave him a nod.

"of course they do,'' she whispered. "Vincent, our little boy carries our wedding picture in his pocket everywhere.And our daughter, Beverly always asks Wong to describe you because apparently my descriptions arent enough'' she smiles as she fixes his hoodie.

"Beverly?'' he asked

"named our little boy after your middle name and Beverly after your mom'' she whsipered as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him into a kiss. Their lips seemed to find their way back to eachother, as if it were some sort of megnetic pulse.

''what are they like?'' he asked, she rested her head on his chest as they slowly swayed to and fro. She hummed at the thought of her children, the two most important people in her life.

"They're perfect'' she whispered, "Both are curious, too curios they want to see how much they could scare me. Vince loves dinosours and is obsessed with star wars. Bev, well bev is into taking things apart and putting them back together again.'' she chuckled as she listened to his heartbeat.

"another surgeon in the making?'' he asked, y/n scoffed and smiled at the thought.

''They laugh and talk. He looks too much like you, he has your eyes stephen.'' she closed her own and imagined her children. "and well, Bev. That little nugget has your thinking face, your scowl. You can never seperate them, because they start to cry.''

“Really?” He asked, y/n grabbed his hand and lead him through their house. The light from the TV shining on the tired babysitter, Stephen glanced at the woman as they continued to walk towards the stairs. Y/n hummed softly as she went up the steps and lead him down the hallway and into a room. She slowly opened the door, Stephen curiously glanced and saw two beds.

The nightlight plugged in on one side of the bedroom was enough for him to see. He saw two toddlers, y/n smiled and pulled him into the room where he had a clearer view. Stephen was at a loss for words.

His son, cuddled up next to a blanket and held on tight to a stuffed bear. He noticed the jet black hair, the small details of his face. He then turned to see his daughter who was peacefully asleep, she too held on tight to a stuffed animal. His gaze drifted to the small nightstand between the two, an anatomy notebook and a folded picture on top of it. Stephen gasped, his heart was warm at the sight of his two children.

Y/n placed her hand on his arm, looking towards him to see his eyes glasses over. She gave him a small smile, Stephen turned to her and pulled her into an embrace. He pulled away and placed a kiss on her forehead and chuckled.

“Welcome home” she whispered.