#little shack with bottled nightmares in it

[dragonomatopoeia]

octopath 2 is just. chock full of creepypasta content huh.

[ckret2]

Chapter 43 of suddenly human Bill Cipher is pretty eager to remain imprisoned inside the Mystery Shack:

The Eclipse: Part 1

Gravity's disappearing in Gravity Falls. Bill has an explanation for what's going on that has absolutely nothing to do with him, and also doesn't make any sense. Fiddleford has an alternate theory that makes a lot of sense, and has a whole lot to do with Bill. Ford trusts Fiddleford.

####

"An eclipse," Ford repeated. "Gravity's vanishing, you're floating, and you expect me to believe that it's due to an eclipse."

Bill shrugged. "I don't expect anything out of you. Believe whatever the heck you want. That's what it is, though."

"Even if it wasn't a ridiculous notion, there aren't any solar or lunar eclipses anywhere near Oregon this summer—"

"Did I say the eclipse was solar or lunar?" Bill asked. "No. I didn't." He breezed past Ford, heading to the kitchen. "Hey, is anybody gonna eat those pancakes?"

"Mine." Dipper ran past Bill to his abandoned plate.

"Then what kind of an eclipse is it?" Ford demanded.

Bill leaned on the kitchen counter, crossed his arms, and pursed his lips thoughtfully. Finally, he said, "Gravitational eclipse."

"There's no such thing!"

"Oh, I'm sorry, Dr. I Think Having A Mere Five PhDs Means I Know Everything! Please, enlighten the trillion-year-old all-seeing eye who spent a year correcting all your math with your superior knowledge of physics!"

"It's twelve PhDs and you know it."

"Oh, so what! I can still count 'em on one hand." (Dipper gave Bill's hand a puzzled look.)

"Is that how it is!" Ford huffed angrily. "Fine, great teacher—would you be so kind as to educate your student on what the devil a 'gravitational eclipse' is!"

He fully expected Bill to start spouting some absurd science fiction explanation; but instead, Bill hesitated, gaze flicking nervously toward the ceiling. Ford looked up, but didn't see anything.

"Just don't worry about it." Bill rubbed his right eye. He turned away from Ford to watch Dipper struggle to squeeze pancake syrup out of an uncooperative bottle. "Everything will go back to normal in three days. Just—don't look at the sky."

"Why not?"

"Don't worry about it," Bill repeated.  "Hey, take off the lid and stick a knife in, you're never getting anything out that way."

"I've got it," Dipper said testily.

Soos came downstairs at about the same time Stan joined them from the hallway. "Dudes, I think something weird's going on," Soos said.

Ford turned his back on his fruitless conversation with Bill. "We've noticed. Gravity's decreasing."

Soos paused. "Oh," he said, slightly deflated. "I thought I was developing super strength."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"So what's causing it?" Stan asked.

"I don't know yet."

From the kitchen, Bill called, "I just told you!"

Ford didn't look at him. "I don't know the real reason yet."

Stan asked, "Think it might be a portal thing? When it was powering up, gravity got kinda screwy. It wasn't like this, though. Any time there was a surge, gravity hiccuped for a few seconds. It never just... went down a little."

"And not for this long, either," Soos said. "It's been like this all morning." He paused; then asked, hopefully, "You sure we aren't just all developing super strength at the same time?"

Ford shook his head apologetically.

"Aww."

"I suspected the portal first," Ford said. "But I just looked it over and checked the equipment. There's no way any of it could have powered on. It's been completely disassembled since last summer." 

Stan shrugged. "What else could it be?"

"The gravity anomalies occurred whenever the portal was connected to the Nightmare Realm. All I can think is that perhaps it's something else with a connection to the Nightmare Realm that might be having a destabilizing effect on the fabric of reality. Something much weaker, but steadily regaining power..." He turned to cast a venomous look at the kitchen. "Power like the ability to float..."

Bill had been preoccupied with dipping a strip of raw bacon into a stolen uncapped syrup bottle; but at the accusation, he stared at Ford in disbelief. "What—are you kidding me?"

"Have a better explanation for why, the moment all this starts, you can suddenly hover down the stairs?"

"Sure," Bill said. "I'm better at floating than the rest of you because I've been doing it longer."

"Oh, that's stupid!"

"You're stupid."

"You're up to something," Ford snarled. "I know it."

"What could I possibly be up to!" Bill spread his hands, exasperated. "Seriously! Tell me! What could I possibly be up to?"

Ford screwed his face into a scowl, trying to think of any way Bill could have orchestrated the gradual decline of gravity while imprisoned in the Mystery Shack. "You are up to something," he said firmly.

Bill groaned and rolled his eyes. "Well if you ever figure out what, let me know! I'm dying to find out what I'm plotting." He chugged from the syrup bottle like it was a flask. And then had to keep holding it up while he waited for the reduced gravity to work on the syrup.

"Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos held up his phone. "Just got a text from Tate. He says Old Man McGucket wants to know if you can come discuss the gravity issue?"

"I was just thinking the same thing. Let Fiddleford know I'll be there as soon as I can. Does he want me to bring anything?"

"Nope. Just your handsome face." Soos chuckled. "He—he didn't say that part, though. I did. I just think guys should compliment each other more."

Ford nodded solemnly. "Thank you, Soos."

"Grunkle Ford, can I come too?" Dipper dumped his dirty dish in the sink. "I could—I dunno—help brainstorm solutions, or something...?"

"I'd be delighted." Ford had wanted to spend so much more time with Dipper this summer. By now, he'd thought they would have had at least one hike through the mountains around Gravity Falls and maybe dug into a couple of old mysteries he'd never solved. At least this was one mystery Ford could bring him along for.

Dipper's face lit up. "Hold on, let me go get my journal." He ran upstairs, bouncing up two steps at a time in the reduced gravity.

Ford murmured to Stan, "You can hold down the fort while I'm gone?"

Stan nodded slightly. "I'll keep a close eye on him."

"Good."

When Dipper had returned and they were headed out the door, Bill called from the kitchen, "Keep your head down out there. And get inside as soon as you can."

Ford shot a dark look at Bill, but said nothing. "Let's go." He shut the door behind them a bit harder than necessary.

Soos headed into the kitchen to make breakfast. As he passed, Bill said, "Hey. Does the 'guys complimenting guys' thing only apply to humans, or what?"

"Oh. Uh..." Soos pulled his head out of the fridge to look at Bill. "You... look good in yellow? Is—is that a good compliment? I don't know what triangle demons consider a compliment."

Bill considered it. "Sure, it'll do." He dipped another strip of bacon in the syrup. "I look even better in gold."

####

A quarter mile from the shack, Ford drove over a small bump in the road he'd gone over a hundred times before.

The car bounced so high that Ford's head hit the car roof.

Somewhere, he just knew, Bill was laughing at him.

####

Dipper's knee had been bouncing for three minutes straight by the time they approached the gate to the Northwest Manor. "Dipper, are you alright?"

"Sorry." Dipper planted his foot flat on the floor. "It's just—we're driving really slow, and this whole gravity thing is kind of an emergency..."

Just nervous. "I know," Ford sighed. "I can't go any faster without losing control. Lower gravity means lower traction between the tires and the road." But it was driving him mad.

At the manor, Tate greeted them at the door with a slight nod. "Hey. Dad's in the lab."

"Thank you, Tate. I know the way."

When they entered the lab, Fiddleford was working with a soldering iron on an electronic device the size of a toaster. He looked up as soon as they came in. "Stanford, Dipper! Good timing. Come in. How's the shack?"

"Down a few rubber balls."

Ford left Dipper to drift around the lab inspecting Fiddleford's equipment and listening in on the conversation as he and Fiddleford caught up. Fiddleford had first noticed something was wrong during his usual morning post-coffee rambunctious rollick, when he leaped high enough to bang his head on the ceiling. ("All the way to the ceiling? In this house?" "Well, I was standing on the counter, you see." "Ah, of course.") He'd immediately built a vacuum chamber he could drop various tools and cutlery in so he could measure the acceleration of gravity. Usually, objects on Earth fell 9.8 meters per second. When Fiddleford first measured, falling objects accelerated by 7.9 meters per second—almost 20% slower than they were supposed to. Now, it was 7.7 meters per second. If that rate of decline was steady, gravity must have been going down overnight without anyone noticing. By Fiddleford's calculations, gravity was decreasing by around 1.5% an hour—and, if it continued at this rate, it would be gone the day after tomorrow, by early afternoon.

(Bill had said three days. That wasn't even two and a half.)

Fiddleford had done some scans and called some old college pals down in Texas to ask if they'd noticed anything strange—and it seemed that Gravity Falls was the only place in the country experiencing anything unusual, at least according to NASA's data. Fiddleford had asked Tate to drive around town dropping things; quelle surprise, the gravitational oddity seemed perfectly contained to the circumference of the town's weirdness barrier.

"If you're in communication with NASA, I don't suppose you could ask if..." Ford winced at himself, "they've... noticed any astronomical anomalies?"

Fiddleford stroked his beard. "I reckon I could, but—why?"

Ford sighed. "Bill said this is being caused by what he calls a 'gravitational eclipse.' Which sounds like patent nonsense, but—on the one percent chance he's telling the truth..."

"I getcha. That Bill's as trustworthy as a rattlesnake with rabies—but until we know what's happening, we ought to consider every possibility."

"Yes. Precisely." Ford paused. "Can... rattlesnakes catch rabies?"

"Absolutely not! Which is why you should never trust one what says he's rabid."

"Ah. Yes. I see," Ford said uncertainly.

Like Ford, Fiddleford's first suspicion was that this had something to do with the portal—a suspicion that was scuttled when Ford informed him he'd already checked the portal. Ford's own next theory was that Bill personally was somehow behind this. His gravity already seemed to be far lighter than the rest of the town. But Ford didn't know whether that was because Bill was causing the gravity-reducing anomaly, or because the gravity-reducing anomaly was disproportionately affecting Bill. And even if Bill was causing it, as yet Ford had no idea by what mechanism he was doing it.

Fiddleford had the first idea that might explain how this was physically happening: dimensional rips.

At the end of last summer, the town and surrounding woods had been lousy with small dimensional rips torn in spacetime by Weirdmageddon and its aftermath. A few had been large enough for a grown man to stumble through, but many were barely as long as a fingernail. Ford and Stan had spent the last few days of summer running through the town and the woods with the kids, armed with alien adhesive, glueing shut the rips; and then—after traveling back and forth to California to attend Dipper's bar mitzvah and to get hollered at by Shermie for disappearing and/or faking a death—they'd spent most of the next month taking care of even more rips. (Just enough time for gnomes to steal Ford's new Journal 4.)

The remains of the rips could still be seen throughout Gravity Falls: odd invisible seams in the air that seemed to make the woods behind them bend strangely, like the transition between air and water where light refracted differently. Sometimes the sun would line up just right with a gap in the leaves so that you could see a sunbeam bending in midair.

Fiddleford had two theories:

Theory one: even after they'd sealed up all the rips, the distressed fabric of reality around Gravity Falls had grown threadbare. Rather than a few huge rips tearing through to the Nightmare Realm, countless micro-rips were forming—hundreds of thousands of holes between the fibers of reality, too tiny to be seen or detected—and they were reaching critical mass. The structural integrity of reality itself was about to catastrophically fail. The barrier between here and the Nightmare Realm could shred apart at any minute, ripping open a massive maw too wide to ever be repaired, irreversibly swallowing Gravity Falls into Bill's dying dimension of madness and leaving a frothing pustule of chaos trapped inside the weirdness barrier, ready to spread across all of Earth if anything should ever pop it!

Or two: something else was happening.

Ford thought it was worth investigating. The damage was already there; maybe Bill knew it, was exacerbating it—perhaps by his mere presence—and was just hoping the humans wouldn't figure it out before his homecoming.

"You remember the wormhole detector I built last September to sense when new dimensional rips were openin' up?" Fiddleford asked. "Well, it ain't detected a thing in town since March—but if these micro-rips are real, they'd be too little to detect from any farther than forty or fifty feet. So's I whipped up a portable scannermadoohickey!" He picked up the object he'd been working on when Ford and Dipper arrived. "You can take it to the places with the most damage and wave it around to see if it senses anything!"

Ford inspected the scanner. "It says it's detecting eighteen right now."

Fiddleford waved him off. "That's fine, a few itty bitty little tears oughta be expected for the kinda damage we got last year. But if my theory's correct, there's somewhere in Gravity Falls that'll have hundreds of thousands of tears within the scanner's radius. That's what we're looking for."

"Great. And, what do we do if we find them? Such small rips would be impossible to individually seal with my adhesive applicator."

"I thought of that, too!" Fiddleford scrambled over two tables, knocking tools on the ground as he went, to grab a plastic cone-shaped object the size of a football. He scuttled beneath the tables back to Ford. "Look! I made a glue grenade!"

"A—a what?"

"Once you figure out where the micro-rips are concentrated, just pour that alien adhesive of yours into this spout here, pull the pin, and chuck it! It'll instantly seal up all the micro-rips in the area and then cover the whole town in a cloud of alien adhesive, closing any remaining rips!"

"Hmm... It sounds risky. It would use up the rest of our andhesive all at once," Ford said. "And the environmental impact could be devastating."

Fiddleford blinked. "Environmental impact?"

"Just think of an adhesive this powerful settling over the whole town and forest in a thin film. It would glue people's pores shut! They wouldn't be able to sweat! Imagine. And that's just one example of the potential consequences."

"Hm." Fiddleford scratched his head. "I could invent a body lotion with alien adhesive solvent?"

"Or, maybe we should only use the grenade once we're sure that such an extreme measure is necessary."

"Aww." Fiddleford kicked his foot in disappointment. "Hold on—let me at least whip up a spray attachment for your adhesive gun. So's you can patch up any clusters you find as you go." He darted between several tables, searching through drawers and tool chests for supplies, and then returned to his soldering station.

"Wait, hold on," Ford said. "In the space of a morning, you've built a vacuum chamber to calculate the gravitational acceleration in Gravity Falls, called NASA to get ahold of somebody to collect data across the rest of the United States, built a handheld version of your wormhole detector, and built a grenade to distribute alien adhesive?"

"I sure did!"

"And, how long have you been awake?"

"An hour and a half!"

Ford stared. "Where do you get your coffee?"

Fiddleford glanced across the room at Dipper, and whispered, "I'll tell ya later."

Dipper had drifted over to the miniature particle accelerator and was slowly circling it, inspecting all the pipes, trying to figure out how it worked. He was leaning over the trash can when Ford drifted over to join him. "Hey, Grunkle Ford? I... think there's a cat in here?"

"You don't know that!" Fiddleford shouted. "It could be dead!"

"No it's not, I can hear it meowing."

"That might be something else! You can't tell!"

"I could just open it—"

Fiddleford chucked an empty plastic spool of solder wire toward Dipper. "Don't you touch that!"

Dipper withdrew his hand from the trash can lid and looked at Ford, baffled.

"I'll explain how it works," Ford said.

While Fiddleford worked, Ford caught Dipper up on the details of the fuel they needed for the Quantum Destabilizer, the contraption Fiddleford had built to synthesize it, and the complicated way they'd tried to paradoxically (not) observe the experiment in progress. When Fiddleford came over to offer the completed spray nozzle, Ford asked, "Any progress on figuring out how to get this thing working?"

"No," Fiddleford sighed. "I've been lookin' into more stable paradoxes to replace the cat. But as far as the observer—I'd hoped usin' twins might just get close enough, but I've redid my cac'lations three times and I'm afraid the only way to get this thing working is by gettin' one person to both observe and not observe it at the same time. If we can just do that, we'd have all the fuel we need. But for the life of me I can't figure out how."

"Maybe if we had two versions of the same person from different dimensions..." Ford mused. "But that would require opening up a portal to reach another dimension, and there's the risk that uniting parallel versions of the same person might destabilize our entire dimension. It's not worth the risk."

"It sounds like one of those impossible riddles," Dipper said. "Like, 'If only a barber shaves people who don't shave themselves, and if anyone who shaves himself isn't a barber, then who shaves the barber?' Because if he shaved himself he wouldn't be a barber but since he shaves other people he has to be a barber..."

Ford said, "A second barber shaves him."

Fiddleford said, "He just don't shave at all."

Dipper paused. "I think I told it wrong."

Ford patted his shoulder. "But I think you're on to something. We need to think of this as a riddle; and every riddle has a solution. We just need to find it."

"After we save the town, right?" Dipper asked.

Ford smiled wanly. "One crisis at a time."

####

They agreed that investigating all the potential micro-rip hotspots around town would probably necessitate a camping trip—which was the only bit of good news to come out of this mess so far. Due to all of this summer's Bill bullsoup (as Stan had taken to calling it in front of the kids), Ford and Dipper had hardly gotten to see each other so far, much less do any serious paranormal investigating together. Hiking and camping while in search of the strange sounded like exactly what they'd been missing out on—and it would've sounded even better if the situation weren't so dire.

Ford and Dipper came back in the Mystery Shack as Shandra Jimenez said on TV, "Today's top story in Gravity Falls is that gravity isn't falling. Many residents recall similar incidents around this time last summer, when gravity intermittently shut off entirely, leading many to ask: could this possibly be another devastating effect of global warming? Temperatures today are—"

Ford scoffed. "Global warming. Of all things. Gravity is probably the only part of the environment it isn't affecting."

"I dunno, Ford, maybe you oughta consider it." Bill was sitting cross-legged on the couch, chin in his hand. He had his eye patch over the eye he'd been squinting that morning. "As long as you're already rejecting the real explanation to make up one you like better, why not go whole hog? Let's adopt a real crackpot theory."

"You want to talk about 'crackpot theories'? Global warming sounds at least as likely as an eclipse."

"That says a lot more about your education than it does about the theories."

Ford grit his teeth. "You know I'm one of the most educated men on Earth."

"And that says a lot about your planet's educational system."

Stan, sitting in his armchair reading the paper, folded it down to glower at Bill. "Stop antagonizing my brother."

"Tell him to stop making it so easy."

Ford grit his teeth harder, but ignored Bill. "Dipper, go pack your backpack. I'll check the basement and meet you when I'm done."

"Right!" Dipper hurried up the stairs.

Ford crossed the living room, checking the micro-rip scanner—88 detected rips, over five times higher than at Northwest Manor, but still nowhere near the 100,000 rip danger threshold. He'd see whether that remained true next to the portal. He paused next to Stan's armchair, "Stanley, do you remember where we stored the alien adhesive applicator?"

"Uhh... when's the last time we used it?"

"Last fall, right before we headed to Seattle."

Stan lowered his paper, staring at the ceiling. "I think we stored it in one of the lockers in the basement, right?"

"It's not there," Bill said.

Ford gave him an exasperated look. "And how would you know."

"Because the first day I came here, I emptied out all those lockers and hid their contents while I was waiting for the rest of you to get downstairs."

Ford smacked the back of the armchair, making Stan start. "So that's what happened to my infinity-sided die! Where the devil did you hide it?"

"Frankly, I don't think you're responsible enough to handle that kind of power," Bill said archly.

"Where's the adhesive applicator!"

"What do you need it for?"

"That's none of your business."

"Pity." Bill turned up the volume on the news.

Ford moved between Bill and the screen. "If you don't tell me where you hid it..." What threat could he make? This was the demon willing to threaten suicide if his captors didn't keep him entertained.

"Tell me why you need it."

"As if you'd give it to me if I did!"

"Maybe I'll find your cause noble," Bill said flatly. "Try me."

Oh, what did he have to lose. "Fine. I'm testing to see if imperceptibly small rips are opening between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm. If they are, I'm going to seal them shut." He hoped the revelation would throw Bill off—he hoped he was close enough to the truth to shock Bill into giving something away.

Bill's eye widened, eyebrows shooting up; and then he burst out laughing. "That's what Specs filled your head with? Embryonic wormholes? That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard! And you're turning to him for an explanation when you've got a being with infinite answers sitting in your living room?"

Ford scoffed. "Sure, infinite answers—and just like the infinity-sided die, whatever I get is infinitely more likely to be trouble than anything useful. Now tell me where you put my adhesive applicator."

"I didn't put it anywhere." Bill held the remote out to the side to change the channel and stared at the TV straight through Ford, as if he didn't exist. "It's still in the basement. A little adhesive leaked out, I couldn't get the locker door open."

"Ha!" Stan slapped an armrest.

Ford whirled around to glare at him.

Stan held up his hands appeasingly. "Sorry! Sorry. That's not funny. Wasn't—wasn't funny at all. How dare you, Bill."

"I know, I'm just the worst."

Ford held in a harsh sigh and stalked out of the room. He didn't have time for this—not when they were on a deadline to prevent whatever was happening. (What if it became too late to reverse before gravity even reached 0%? What if they were approaching a tipping point when the whole sky would rip open?)

He opened the vending machine and headed downstairs.

####

He had to break the locker door to get the alien adhesive applicator out. He'd have to figure out how the nozzle had leaked before he stored it again.

According to the sensor, there were over a thousand micro-rips detectable just from standing near the portal controls. The number increased as he approached the portal itself; the highest quantity the scanner detected was nearly 5,000. Over fifty times higher than on the shack's ground level. It was clear some sort of damage had been done here.

But Fiddleford had said, for them to be concerned about reality shredding, there should be hundreds of thousands of micro-rips in one location. And Ford trusted any numbers Fiddleford gave him; wherever Ford tended to double-check his math, Fiddleford quintuple-checked his.

Even at the interdimensional portal itself—the spot where the veil between Gravity Falls and the Nightmare Realm had been ripped open and stitched shut so many times, the spot where the rift that nearly ended the world had been formed—there were less than 5% of the rips they needed before they started reaching dangerous levels.

Ford looked up at the portal, frowning.

The portal's torn and crumpled pieces lay against the cavern walls where he'd left them last summer.

Never mind. There were several other places that could be hotspots for micro-rips. He couldn't draw any conclusions about what was happening here until he'd checked them too.

But whatever was happening, it certainly wasn't an eclipse.

He added Fiddleford's spray attachment to the adhesive applicator and filled the chamber with a mist of glue, until the scanner read less than 200 micro-rips; then stopped by his study to grab a couple maps of the mountains around Gravity Falls, his antique lantern, and a tent; and headed back up to the house.

####

During their past year of travels, Stan and Ford had started keeping two emergency backpacks stocked in case they needed to flee on short notice. The backpacks contained everything they'd need to survive in the wilderness or a strange city for three days; and Ford had thirty long years of experience to teach him exactly what supplies that necessitated. He grabbed his backpack out of the guest room, and then spread out his map on the kitchen table to show to Dipper.

"If our micro-rip theory is correct, there are four potential places where I suspect they'll be most densely concentrated: the place where the interdimensional rift formed; where it was unleashed; where it was suspended for the majority of Weirdmageddon; and where it was sealed."

"And you've already checked the portal where it formed," Dipper said. "What about the place it was suspended? It was floating in the sky over town. There's no way we can get up there until gravity's completely gone, and by then it'll be too late."

"I've considered that. The closest we can get is Gravity Peak, but from there we should be able to get the sensor close enough to tell if there's an unusual amount of rips." Ford circled three spots on the map, and drew a dotted line connecting them. "We're heading out late, but we should be able to hit the locations where Weirdmageddon began and ended today. We can cross the lake to camp in the cavern behind Trembley Falls, get an early start, and take the hidden cave tunnel up to Gravity Peak."

"Not the best time for a hiking trip," Bill said.

Ford shot him an exasperated look. Bill was leaning in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, smirking condescendingly. "Or maybe it is, if you're trying to avoid as much effort as possible," he says. "But I still wouldn't go if I were you. You don't want to be outdoors during an eclipse—and you don't want to be on a mountain when gravity comes back."

"Nobody asked you," Ford said, turning his back on Bill. "Now—cooking will be difficult as gravity decreases, but not to worry—" he unzipped his backpack, "—I've already prepared everything we'll need." Grinning, he pulled out what looked like a toothpaste tube with a "beef and vegetables" label. "Astronaut food!"

Dipper grimaced. "Great."

"You should have asked me," Bill said, a bit louder. "Considering that Specs is sending you on a wild goose chase. But hey, if you're that determined to waste your time, just don't say I didn't tell you so."

"You haven't even told us what an 'eclipse' is," Dipper said. "If it's not important enough to explain, I don't see why it's important enough for us to listen to you."

"Well said," Ford muttered.

"It's too important to explain," Bill retorted. "I've told you everything you need to know!"

Ford said, "Ha," and started folding his map to pack.

There were a few seconds of blessed silence; and then Bill walked into the room, leaned on the fridge, and glowered at Ford. "Listen. As far as you're concerned, the eclipse is probably harmless. It should peak in three days—"

"Fiddleford said at its current rate of decrease, it should be the day after tomorrow."

Ford expected Bill to argue; but instead, he frowned uneasily. "I—Sure, fine, whatever, he's probably done the math, I've just been eyeballing it. Did he say what time?"

Surprised, Ford said, "early afternoon, by his measurements."

Bill nodded vaguely, glancing again toward the ceiling. "Whatever time it happens—gravity will gradually decrease until totality, and then it'll come back very quickly, so—if you want to help your town so much, tell them that they don't want to be climbing trees in zero G. Otherwise, the best thing you can do is stay inside, wait for it to pass, keep your eyes shutduring totality—and do not look up."

"Why can't we look up?" Dipper asked.

Bill laughed derisively. "Would you stare at the sun during a solar eclipse? It's like I'm talking to babies!"

The last fraying thread of Ford's patience snapped. He seized Bill's hoodie by the strings and dragged him closer. "Enough!"

Bill flailed, kicking the table as he tried to back out of Ford's grip, and ended up losing his footing and landing on the floor. It was too easy to drag him around—he was so light. Ford leaned down to glare straight in his eye. "If you're so worried about how we're handling this eclipse of yours, maybe you should come with us!"

Horror bloomed in Bill's eye. "What? No no no, that's—that's fine, I told you everything you need, I'd just slow you down, I'd really be much happier in here—"

"I bet you would be," Ford snarled. "As far as I'm concerned, the fact that you want to stay inside so much is reason enough to bring you along! Either something out there scares you, or there's something in here you want to be close to during totality! Maybe something will happen at the portal! Whatever it is you want, I don't want you to get it."

"Grunkle Ford?" Dipper had gotten out of his seat and was looking uncertainly between Bill and Ford. "I'm not sure about..."

Bill's gaze snapped from Ford's face to Dipper's, and Ford could almost see the gears shifting in his head as he latched on to a more vulnerable target. "Kid. Remember when I told you there are things out there you don't want to meet? Stay inside—let me stay inside—find a good book to distract you the next couple of days, and don't worry about things you don't want to know too much about. As far as you should be concerned, this is a weather phenomenon. You don't want to dig any deeper than that. Stay. Home."

The corners of Dipper's mouth turned down. He grabbed Ford's coat sleeve and said, voice low, "Great Uncle Ford, I... I'm not sure he's lying. I've never seen Bill scared like this before. And when he told me about things in other dimensions, this gravity thing hadn't even started, so he couldn't have..."

"Unless Bill was expecting this to happen, and everything he told you yesterday was the groundwork to make us believe whatever he wants us to believe." Bill had wormed deeper into Dipper's head than Ford had realized, if it was enough to make him consider Bill's nonsensical claims. Ford should have asked more about what Bill told him yesterday. The monster could have been filling his gnephew's head with all sorts of nightmares. "Doesn't it seem a little lucky that he told you all that one day before this?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean..."

Ford glared at Bill again. "I'm not buying it. And the more you make up ridiculous explanations like 'gravitational eclipses' and 'things from other dimensions,' the more you insist that this is somehow both no big deal and incredibly dangerous just to witness, the less I believe this is anything but a patently ridiculous attempt to keep us from interfering with whatever is about to happen! And frankly, that makes me want to interfere even more!"

Bill let out a strangled laugh. "You've gotta be... If you think I'm that suspicious, how do you know this isn't reverse psychology?! Maybe I want you to take me outside!"

"Maybe you do. That's the awful thing about you, Bill: I can second-, third-, and fourth-guess everything you say, and I'll never be sure I've figured out the truth! At some point I just have to make an educated guess."

There was a knock at the doorway. "Hey, Dr. Pines?" Soos leaned into the kitchen. "I heard furniture and anger. Is everything... uh..." He trailed off, taking in the scene—Bill on the floor backed up against the fridge, Ford crouched over him, Dipper watching anxiously. "Everything cool here?"

Ford got to his feet. "Dipper and I are going on an expedition—and unfortunately, he has to come along. Soos, do you have a spare backpack we can use for his supplies?"

"Uh, I think so—"

"Great," Dipper snapped. "This is just perfect. I've been waiting a month and a half for us to do something cool together, and when we're finally about to go on an expedition, it's ruined by him?" He gestured angrily at Bill. "He's already ruined the rest of summer!"

Bill said, "Hey, I didn't consent to this plan either."

"You shut up," Dipper snapped. "This is all your fault! You could have just left us alone, but...!" He let out a frustrated noise. He pushed past Soos out of the room and ran up the stairs.

Ah. Ford's shoulders slumped. Sometimes he wasn't quite sure where he'd misstepped in a conversation, but this time it was pretty obvious. Between this and the nearly-disastrous trip to Portland, Ford was well in the lead for Worst Grunkle of the Summer.

"Wow. You broke that kid's heart," Bill said. "Not too late to make it up to him by going back to the original plan."

Ford shot him a dirty look.

Bill shrugged. "I'm trying anything I can think of at this point!"

Ford sighed harshly, and left to follow Dipper upstairs.

Bill sat up and waited until Ford's footsteps had receded. Voice low, he said, "Questiony, listen, I need your help. Stanford's gone completely insane. You didn't see how he was ranting and raving before you got in here. Who knows what he'll do to me if he gets me alone outside the shack with only his junior sycophant as a witness—?"

Soos looked deeply uncomfortable, but he shook his head. "Not buying it, dawg."

Bill groaned.

####

Ford knocked, and gently pushed the kids' damaged door open a crack. "Dipper?"

Dipper grunted. He was sitting on his bed, chin in his hands, glaring down at his journal in his lap.

"Can I come in?"

Dipper grunted again. Ford wasn't being ignored, so he took that as permission to enter. He delicately sat next to Dipper and tried to figure out what to say next. (He was surprised at how firm the mattress was—and then realized the real reason he wasn't sinking as far into it as he expected.) "Dipper..."

"You don't need to say anything," he sighed. "You're right—Bill probably is up to something. If he wants to be in the shack so much, and won't give us a straight answer why, then... it's probably safer to keep him out of it." But he sounded so terribly resigned.

"All the same, I understand your disappointment," Ford said. "I'd far rather go hiking with you than with him."

Dipper nodded. "Yeah. It's just..." He trailed off.

"I know. I wanted this summer to be different, too." Ford sighed. "As soon as he's gone, I owe you another hiking trip."

Dipper nodded again. He mumbled, "I've never gone hiking before."

This was some way to experience it for the first time. "We could treat this like a practice round? A warm-up with lower gravity to make it easier. Next time will be a real trip—without any crises to worry about, and without Bill."

"I don't mind the crises," Dipper said. "I'm kind of used to them, actually. They're almost fun now."

In his mind, Ford knew that this was probably another thing that should earn him a Worst Grunkle award. But in his heart, he was proud of Dipper. That was an adventurer's attitude.

"It's just... I haven't been able to get away from him all summer," Dipper said. "And even when I'm avoiding him, Mabel's spending all her free time either with her friends or trying to reform him, and you're spending all your time trying to figure out how to kill him, so I barely see you two..."

And that wasn't even something Ford could blame on Bill, was it? He hadn't been spending his time trying to figure out how to kill Bill since he'd handed over the Quantum Destabilizer design to Fiddleford. He'd simply been... obsessing. Hiding and obsessing. Ford stared down at his hands guiltily. "Tell you what. As soon as this is over, we can go do—something. I don't know what yet, but we've got a couple of days to think it up. I've spent too much time underground the last few weeks, anyway. We may not be able to go on that big adventure until Bill's gone—but it's something, for now."

"Yeah, I'd like that. Thanks, Grunkle Ford." 

Ford nudged him. "And as long as you do have to put up with Bill for this trip... look on the bright side. Haven't you been wanting to get a crack at him without your sister around? See if you can pry out any more alien wisdom before his execution?"

Dipper huffed—but one corner of his mouth reluctantly quirked up. "Thanks, but I'm starting to think that's a bad idea. Every time I try, he just says stuff that gives me nightmares."

"Well—consider it an intellectually broadening experience."

Dipper gave him a weak smile.

"Anyway, with a little luck, it won't be long before you'll never need to deal with him again."

####

Soos had an old Monster-Mon backpack with cracked vinyl around the straps that he hadn't used since he outgrew it in fifth grade. "Lucky I didn't throw it out when we moved. You never know when you're gonna need old stuff!"

Bill had no idea what he was supposed to take on a forced camping trip. He knew what humans took, but humans craved all kinds of material comforts that meant nothing to him. After a couple minutes staring at the bag forlornly, he stuck in a spare shirt and leggings—he doubted he'd need extra underwear or socks, right?—and the Pony Heist bedsheet he'd been using as his sole blanket the last month, his toothbrush and toothpaste, a cider six-pack, two boxes of cereal, a kazoo, and the TV remote.

"I need some first-aid supplies. In case of emergency," Bill told Soos.

"Sure, whaddaya need?"

"Bandages, painkillers, matches, and a knife."

"You got—" Soos paused, then pursed his lips at Bill disapprovingly.

Bill sighed. "Bandages and painkillers. And cold medicine. Woods get chilly."

He glanced up as he heard footsteps upstairs. Not much longer until he was dragged outside. He grimaced. "One more thing, Jesús. This is important."

"Whoa. Full-first-name important?" He stuck a bottle of cold syrup in the backpack, hit something hard, and peered in confusion at the six-pack.

"Stanford's being petty and refusing to believe anything I say, but I know you're not that stupid," Bill lied. "So listen: this thing will peak in a couple of days and then go back to normal. It's mostly harmless to humans—but once the peak has passed, gravity's coming back like that." Bill snapped his fingers. "So anyone you want to come out of this intact needs to do two things. One, the moment gravity completely disappears, they need to anchor themselves, as close to the ground as possible, before it comes back. And two, do not look at the sky. Got it?"

Soos hesitated; but then nodded. "Y-yeah, got it."

"Understand?"

"Understood."

"Good."

"So are you like... trying to protect the town now?"

Bill laughed bitterly. "I'm trying to cover my base. When this is all over, even if all my warnings were ignored, at least nobody will be able to say I didn't try. I could have sat on everything I know! But I didn't! And I'm going to rub. It. In. Ford's. Face." He punctuated each word with a jab to Soos's chest.

Soos endured the jabbing with a patience Bill didn't deserve. "Byyy protecting the town?"

Bill opened his mouth, reconsidered, and said, "Sure! Of course I'm protecting the town! Why would I want any harm to befall the citizens of my once and future capital?"

"I mean, no offense, but you befelled a lot of harm on us last year—"

"I did not," Bill snapped. "Everyone was perfectly comfortable in my throne of frozen human agony." He yanked the backpack's zipper shut, pulled it on, and pushed Soos aside to leave the kitchen.

Stan had stopped Ford at the foot of the stairs. "But if this is some nightmare dimension thing, isn't that just another reason not to take Bill outside? What if one of those wormholes opens up and he dives through? Maybe escaping back to his dimension will give him his power back, we don't know."

"I've considered that—but if that is what he's planning, all the more reason why he should stay with Dipper and me, so we can stop him if he tries anything."

"Are you nuts? It'll be two of you in the woods versus four of us here in the shack! We outnumber him more than you do! Plus walls and doors!"

"We have the hexed bracelets, he won't be able to escape us," Ford said.

"Aww, I get to share matching friendship bracelets with someone?" Bill gave Dipper and Ford what he hoped was his most obnoxious smile. "Who's the lucky guy?"

Scowling, Dipper raised his hand.

Bill's smile dimmed. "You are the lesser evil," he admitted grudgingly. "But I'm surprised ol' Six-Fingers doesn't want to keep as tight a grip on me as possible."

"We decided that if you try to kill your bracelet partner and escape, Grunkle Ford would have a better chance of avenging me than I would have avenging him."

Bill's brows shot up. "Ruthlessly utilitarian. Was that Stanford's idea?"

Ford ignored the question, pushing on with his conversation with Stan: "And anyway, there might be more people in the shack, but none of them would be me. I know him better than anyone else."

Bill laughed hard enough that his feet momentarily lifted off the floor. "Oh do you!"

Ford's gaze shot to Bill's face, eyes blazing with fury. "You know I do. I've spent thirty years learning every trick, every lie, every betrayal that's made you who you—"

"What's my favorite food."

Ford's mouth worked uselessly. "That—doesn't matter—"

"You think you know my innermost soul when you don't even know my favorite food?"

"Favorite... human food, or...?"

"Oh, sure, I'll give you a fighting chance. Human."

Ford chewed on the inside of his mouth for several seconds. Finally, he said, "Jalapeños."

Bill crossed the entryway, leaned into the hallway, and took a deep breath. "HEY, MABEL!"

From the far end of the house (where Mabel was seeing how high she could jump in the floor room), she shouted, "YEAH?"

"WHAT'S MY FAVORITE FOOD?"

"NACHOS WITH CHOCOLATE SAUCE AND SUMMER-SHAPED SPRINKLES!"

Bill gestured down the hall, ta-da. "THANK YOU!"

"I was close," Ford grumbled. "Nachos have jalapeños."

Stan said, "You're not even out of the house and he's getting under your skin. Are you sure you wanna—?"

"I am not," Ford said, "leaving him in the house. And if you'd heard how he was fighting to stay under this roof, you wouldn't trust him in here either."

Stan looked at Bill.

Bill looked Stan dead in the eyes and said, "I don't know what he's talking about. I agreed to go as soon as he asked."

"Oh, shut your—" Ford snatched the bracelets off the coat rack, flung one end at Bill, and handed Dipper the other. "Put these on. We're leaving."

Bill scowled, but considered his odds of successfully resisting, reluctantly put his end of the bracelet on, and yelled down the hall, "BYE, MABEL! I'M BEING KIDNAPPED BY YOUR UNCLE AGAINST MY WILL! I MAY NEVER RETURN!"

"I'LL MISS YOU FOREVER!"

Ford opened the door and gestured impatiently. Bill took a couple reluctant steps closer, but stopped to look at Soos and say, "Remember what I said. Do not let Mabel be in the air when gravity comes back, you know if someone doesn't watch her she'll launch herself as high as she can—"

Ford snapped, "Either you walk or I drag you, Cipher."

"I'm coming." He stepped outside, paused, and cast a worried look at the sky; then squeezed his eyes shut, lowered his head, and walked into the sunlight.

####

(That's this week's chapter! I'd love to hear your comments and thoughts. Next week: I'm gonna do my level best to shatter your hearts. Look forward to it!)

[peach-flavored-cyanide]

nothing to post so have some misc headcanons

(this will be a long one)

Dream photosynthesizes like a plant. He loves staying out in the sun and going on picnics. Whenever you can't find him there's a 90% chance he's laying down in a sunny spot napping.

Nightmare is the opposite. He's like a weird fungus. He enjoys dark, damp places, and if he wasn't a freak for cleanliness and organization he would probably be living in a moldy shack in the woods.

Horror absolutely despises being compared to or treated like an animal, especially dogs. It is one of the easiest ways to piss him off.

Horrortale bros post recovery rarely eat meat. It makes them extremely nauseous, especially pork. Sans also cleans almost obsessively.

Dust's door is always locked. He's really not doing anything in there, he just doesn't want anyone to rummage through his stuff. (It'd be hard to, anyway, considering how much trash is in there.)

Killer collects weird objects he finds on the ground while raiding AUs. He has an entire box of weird little trinkets (mainly bottle caps and wrappers) and a few favorites set out on a shelf.

Horror is extremely self conscious about his appearance, especially after recovering from the whole starving-thing. He gets a specific expression on his face whenever he sees anyone that resembles his past self.

Dust accidentally attracted multiple mice into the castle. Then proceeded to befriend all of them, somehow.

Nightmare has tried to ally Error on multiple occasions and got turned down or straight up ass-kicked every time.

On the other hand, when he reluctantly went to Ink (not his idea) the other gladly accepted. Dream had to drag him away and scold him. He keeps a close eye on him nowadays.

Ink asks very insensitive questions without meaning to. He honestly just sees bad things as 'angst' due to his connections with the creators. He gets very confused when people don't like him for this.

Dream has a reluctant appreciation for Error, in concept, but is absolutely terrified of him in all actuality. Ink, on the other hand, feels more like a kid he's babysitting all of the time.

Ink and Fresh have kissed on multiple occasions. Literally just because they both think it's funny.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

(Kinda Angsty) Angela Shepard Headcanons

**Some of these have been lifted directly from my Angela Shepard fics on ao3**

-Shares a room with Curly and can’t fall asleep until he does, because the steady rhythm of his breaths as he sleeps has always been the most constant thing in her life

-That said, Curly also talks in his sleep and its always the most random/concerning shit and she finds it hilarious

-Has had HORRENDOUS nightmares and night terrors since she was a baby

-She used to go to Tim whenever she had a nightmare but on nights when Tim wasn’t willing to deal with her, she’d wake up Curly and they’d stay up talking for the rest of the night

-Whenever Curly gets sent to the reformatory she makes bad decisions. She shacks up with the wrong guy, intentionally gets into fights with their mother or tries to aggravate Tim and Sylvia, because Curly is her other half and without him around she’s ANGRY and HURTING and the only way she knows how to deal with that is to get hurt herself, because physical pain has always been easier for her to deal with than emotional pain

-Angela’s actions when Curly is incarcerated are part of the reason why Tim tries to keep Curly out of the reformatory as much as possible, because when the twins are separated for any stretch of time they’re straight up DEMONIC until they’re reunited and Tim does not have the patience nor the capacity to deal with their shenanigans when they’re both at their worst- and if HE can’t handle them, the rest of Tulsa certainly can’t

-Whenever Curly gets back from the reformatory the first thing Angela says is usually an insult or some sort of gripe about having to share their room again, then she grabs him in a hug tight enough to bruise. (Its the only time they ever hug each other, but Curly doesn’t shove her off because he’s been just as mental without her around)

-Both her and Curly stay sane (as sane as Shepard’s can be at least) whenever Tim gets locked up, but they’re both a little more on edge because Tim’s the only person who ever looked after them, and even though they don’t NEED to be looked after anymore it’s uncomfortable knowing the one proper adult who cares about them isn’t around. Angela still deals better than Curly, because Curly’s abandonment issues were worsened when their dad left 

-Sylvia is Tim’s best friend and the toughest girl on the east side. She took Angela under her wing and taught her how to survive as a girl on the rough side of Tulsa and she’s a big reason why Angela is as street smart as she is

-Is very small for her age, and uses it to her advantage. She’s avoided getting in trouble and being arrested multiple times because with her tiny frame and big blue eyes she’s really good at feigning innocence. The sweet little girl act doesn’t work on ANYONE who has met her more than once or who knows anything about what the surname ‘Shepard’ means on the east side

-Has (allegedly) stabbed three different men for making unwanted passes at her

-Started smoking when she was nine

-She and Curly used to fry ants on the sidewalk using pieces of broken bottles because they didn’t have a magnifying glass but wanted to see if it would work (it did)

-Shoplifts gummy bears at least once a day. Her sweet tooth is insatiable

-Worries about Curly because he’s softer than her no matter how well he hides it, which means its easier for him to get hurt 

-Is really good at math and physics but has no patience for any class that involves a lot of writing

-Has physically fought a lot of girls who pissed her off and never lost once

-Hides when she’s sick as long as humanly possible which often leads to her fainting at the most inopportune times. Multiple times Curly has had to carry her home and Tim gets pissed off every time. Curly and Tim only ever seem to agree when it comes to keeping her in bed until her fever is less than 104 degrees Jesus CHRIST Angel

-Got pregnant when she was fourteen and went to Sylvia to help her get rid of it. She never told her brothers about it and no one ever found out, although Curly could tell she was really upset about something for a while

-Hates her mother totally and completely. Curly’s biggest issues lie with their father, and Tim stopped caring about either of their parents years ago, but Angela has always and will forever resent her mother for being absent even while living in the same house

[amoristt]

a/n: sorry there’s so much drama in this one LOL im nothing if not a sucker for nightmare tropes

-as always comments/reblogs are appreciated!

-want to leave a tip? heres my kofi!

The Accused | Simon Riley/Reader

3.

As the morning sun rose and shone through the splintered gaps of the boarded up window, you realized how exactly Ghost got his name.

You weren't sure when he'd arrived, but he was certainly your sight for sore eyes, rising from your fitful slumber. His back faces you, the light dances over the darkness of his tactical gear. For just a moment, you allow yourself to take it in. The birds outside offer a lovely soundtrack. His chair creaks underneath him while his weight shifts.

"Mornin'." Is all he says.

It takes a couple seconds before you're able to sit upright. Your back aches something awful, and you aren't sure if you've ever felt so thirsty in your entire life. Lucky for you, it seemed your friend had brought a couple of gifts. Four water bottles and what appeared to be a few bags of jerky and an assortment of nuts. Your stomach grumbles at the thought, upset at you for not feeding it sooner.

You mumble a good morning as you rise to your feet and take the chair next to him. If not for the situation at hand, you were sure this would have been a lovely morning indeed. The situation at hand only grows worse when Ghost breaks some news.

48 hours, he'd said with a flat tone. Meeting someone out in Las Almas.

For two days you'd be alone, cramped up in this shed with nothing but the everlasting sound of nature as entertainment. To hide the disdain on your face, you grab at one of the bottles and take a long swig. It doesn't work. But it also doesn't stop him from taking his leave less than an hour later.

The rest of the day was spent in phases of isolation. The first phase, immediate boredom, came with anxiety quickly in tow. Ghost would be across the country and you were merely a few miles away from base. It was over if someone decided to stray away just as you used to do and actually found you here. Running couldn't save you forever.

Phase two was quieter. Your left side ached as the bruises began to settle deep into your bones. The birds chirped high in the sky, your tired eyes numbly watching the light cracking through the windows morph from a proud yellow to a dim orange. And, eventually, white with the moon casting through the trees.

You slept better that night- fed and hydrated, mind empty and full all at once with questions. What if's haunted you deep in your core.

By day two you were starting to feel better, but the air around you felt heavier than before. Moist, almost. The shed was dim. When you peeked outside, tentative and afraid that even poking your head out the door would render your life over, you realized that dark clouds had rolled over the sky and parked right on above. Wind blew through the leaves and you could practically smell the impending storm brewing.

When it began to rain, late into the evening, it was nothing too serious. Light pattering on the thin roof, a couple drops slipping through gaps in the shingles and puddling on the floor.

When the thunder cracked over the sky it almost sounded like a bomb. You jumped in your seat so hard you almost fell off, scampering to the window and peeking through the tiny cracks. The wind had grown menacing, tearing through the branches and launching leaves to the grass. Just as before, the sky remained just as baleful as it had been that afternoon.

Eventually, the rain began to come down like it was hail. It beat the roof ruthlessly, more and more water gathering on the floor as it forced its way through the ramshackle shed. You tucked yourself up on the chair, bringing your knees to your chest, trying to have faith in your little shack to keep you safe. There was nowhere else to go- this was it. With no blanket, you were reduced to a shivering mess, listening to the deafening chants of the falling rain.

But, even through it, you could still make out something else.

A great clap of thunder. The unmistakable sound of craning wood. And then an ear-splitting crash. You'd barely even managed to hop from your chair in time.

You felt the wind on your skin before you felt anything else.

And then, water. Lots of it- soaking you almost instantaneously. Pieces of wood and metal lay at your feet, surrounding you, your mind struggling to grasp what the hell was going on. Roaring gusts of wind echoed in your ears.

Standing there, your eyes finally adjusted through the murky darkness just enough to see leaves and branches bent at all angles before you. A great tree lays horizontal through the shed, mere feet away from where you stood. Moon poured in through the gaping maw of what used to be the roof.

The chairs you and Ghost once shared lay shattered to bits under its mammoth weight.

The tree welcomed the entire night into your little safe haven. Angry outbursts of winds, the relentless rain showering every inch of your body. In an attempt to protect yourself, you crushed yourself up into a corner of the shed, the only part of it with a chunk of roof remaining semi-intact. It bowed down, barely held up by the wooden posts, but it dipped just enough where the water ran down it and pooled at your feet.

Tears bite at your eyes, and you let them. They fall in heavy streaks.

And your chest heaved, your hands shook. The storm swallowed your cries, hungry and angry and ripping away any last remaining shred of normalcy you had. Everything around you seemed to be riddled with fractures just waiting to shatter. You grieved the life you had merely three days ago- spent more on the upside than down and wasting your in-between hours alongside Ghost.

Ghost. Beautiful, enigmatic, scary Ghost. With all of those rough edges and those forlorn eyes. He haunts your mind as you fold into yourself, but your limbs offer little cover to the elements. Your head hurts, your body aches something deep and awful. Your skin burns at the cocktail assaulting you- equal parts the pelting rain and the whipping of the wind pitching shards of wood and glass at your weak frame.

A part of you wonders if this would be your demise. If, out of all the wrong cursing your life, this would be your downfall. Cramped in the corner of a shed attempting to outlive mother nature like some pitiful stray thing. Your protective grip on yourself tightens. The nightmare doesn't end.

And the storm rages longer than you can stay awake for.

You remain where you sit even in your dreams. The world is all underwater garbles, the branches of the fallen tree try to reach out and grasp at your shaking body. It's almost like being in a bubble- feeling so full an empty all at once. Hearing the raging storm but it's booming voice just can't seem to fully reach you. But, you swear you hear something else.

You swear, with your face tucked into your knees, you can hear your voice rising above the thunder and the whirlwind.

And then it's like you can feel hands on your skin. Gloved, but warm. Something soft and fuzzy tucked wrapped around you. Those hands pull your arms off your cut-up legs and then you're weightless. It reminds you of your fall. Weightless, hung by your hand. Your eyes screw shut and you're torn from your spot like a ragdoll. Clearly, your soul must be leaving your body.

"-Up."

That faraway voice reaches you. It tears through the veil.

"-Hear m-"

You blink. Everything suddenly rushes in- real. The lamenting winds, the torrent of rain, the creaking of wood and the whipping of leaves on shaking branches.

The softness of a blanket wrapped around your shoulders.

Then, it all stops when you lock eyes with those familiar, melancholic blues. He's shrouded in black, the edges of his form painted in the most beautiful of blues, droplets gathered on his gear reflecting in what little light the moon could creep through those rich clouds. He touches your face. He holds your face. And then he's picking you up like you're broken and you try to remember the last time you've been treated with some fragility. You try to think back to a time when you'd been treated with such care.

"Ghost." You murmur, your own voice the loudest thing reaching your ears.

"Me." He says, and it draws tears of relief to your already wet eyes. You sink into his large arms, allow him to duck out of what remained of the shed. Allow him to pull you to his chest so tightly it's almost too much of him. Almost.

But it never gets to the point. You press your head against him and swear you can hear his heartbeat thrashing in his ribcage, restless. For the first time that night, you felt safe. Utterly safe in his hold. If your body could say thank you, it would have.

The relief knocks you out a moment later.

----------

It's warm when you stir awake. Quiet.

Soft.

When your eyes open, met with a burst of yellow light, you struggle to grasp where you were. Your elbows try to prop you up, but they sink into something plush.

It takes a few moments to realize you're a sopping-wet mess laying atop a couch. Your clothes stuck you grossly, but the cushions you lap upon make it hard to feel uncomfortable. You almost wondered if this was the dream. If you were going to wake any moment in a jump to defend yourself or run, scamper into the stormy night and earn one more day on earth.

But then you see a window with tightly shut blinds. You see a coffee table with coasters, a tiny TV mounted on a wooden entertainment center. An air conditioner pokes out of the wall and it strikes you how similar it is to your flat back at the base.

Like instinct, you glance to your right, and sure enough, you're met with a kitchen you recognize so eerily you have to pinch yourself. A half wall divides the two rooms, the stove visible with the steam outpouring from a kettle.

You were back at base. You were sure of it now.

But it was as if your flat never had the loving touch of personal taste. No photos, no decor. Void of anything to suggest a person with a life worth living inhabited it. It felt hauntingly empty. The same blanket you'd had tucked against you lay a crumpled pile atop the armrest. Your eyes linger on it longer than they should, mind still half empty with sleep and confusion.

You reach out, and you draw your fingers along the blissfully soft fabric of the blanket. It reminds you of your own blankets, and the saddening realization that you may never get a bed of your own ever again, should you not clear your name somehow. You get lost in your thoughts, idly running your fingers along the blanket, still damp from the rain.

"Enjoyin' yourself?"

Ghost's voice pops you out of the bubble you'd slipped into. He stands there in the kitchen, his torso visible over the dividing half wall. The first thing you notice is his evening attire- a skull print etched over a his black fabric mask and a casual black t-shirt spread gaunt over his muscles. It never struck you how naked he looked without his gear on. How bare he seemed with his ruffled blonde hair and thick eyebrows on full display.

The second thing you notice is the sudden shrew scream of the kettle, forgotten on the stove. Ghost settles a pile of clothes on the table and turns to tend to the piercing sound.

For some reason, your mind remains far away. Like you're watching through a lens, not truly where you were. All your brain seemed to want to focus on was the softness of the blanket. The faint smell of amber spice lingering in the air. Your eyes travel to the outline of Ghost, particularly to the broadness of his shoulders, and to the way he moved so languidly, pouring water into a pair of mugs.

You don't even fully realize it when he's suddenly walked directly in front of you, your mind lagging. The mugs are set on the coffee table, and in two snaps of his fingers an inch away from your face, you're blinking up at him like you'd been ripped from a trance.

"You there?" He asks, and you finally offer a response.

"I'm here." You murmur, eyebrows knitting together. "I'm confused. Are we at mine?"

Ghost shakes his head. "Mine."

Your stomach drops like lead. Settles in your gut when he adds, so keep your head down. It's a struggle to digest his words when you're suddenly keenly aware that one wrong move, one wrong sound would have you surrounded. It would be over before the chase even began. Ghost senses your dismay- reads it off the lines in your face that drag your features into a sinking frown.

"No where else to bring you." He admits, settling beside you. "This'll do for now. Just got to keep your head down."

His words do so little to ease you that it actually makes you laugh. Low, pitiful chuckles. "Simon Riley harboring a fugitive. You're a changed man."

"Not changed anything. You'd do it for me." Is all he says with a huff, and you know he's telling the truth. He reaches down and grasps a mug, and he brings it to your lap.

Your hands shake as they reach out, the chill of wet clothes still biting at your bones. It's nearly comical when you take the mug into your own hands, the immediate ripples bouncing off the walls as it shook in your hold.

"Christ. Give me that." Ghost sighs, and before you're even able to respond, he's plucking the cup from your trembling fingers.

Then he's bringing it to your lips and you're so excited to finally drink something that you barely even register how close he is. How he has to shrink himself to be beside you, how gently he tips the mug back while you sip. The warmth drops to the floor of your empty stomach and relief washes over you so intensely it nearly draws tears. How emotional you’d become, the last few days pushing you to your limits. But now you have real shelter, Ghost at your side, a bit more color in your vision and of course the luxury of warm tea.

You're so eager to get it down that droplets gather and fall from the corners of your lips. They dribble down your chin and you pull away with a grimace, swiping at your skin.

" 'Sposed to drink it." Ghost says, and it leaves him so sweetly.

You match the smile you swore you'd heard in his words. When Ghost brings the cup back up to your lips, much less tentative this time around, you can't help but subconsciously reach up to paw at this wrist. The dull ache of an empty stomach ebbs away as you empty the cup, and finally, your sore muscles relax into jelly.

"There you go." Ghost's voice, low and observant. Something in the tone makes you squirm under your skin, and you're met with the reality of being disappointed when he pulls away and sets the cup aside.

It makes you all too aware of the heat over your face, and you lower your head to escape his gaze. A quiet thanks leaves your lips.

"Clothes are on the table, no chance they'll fit you though. Better than being soaked." Ghost's large hands clap over your knee before he stands up. "Washrooms on the left."

When he leaves the room, and you start feeling that gnawing sense of isolation, you finally take to standing and wander into the bathroom. Its white light on even whiter walls blind you for a moment. When your eyes adjust, you're met with eyebags and wet, messy hair. Cut up arms and shaking hands. You look like you've aged 10 years. Your wet clothes plop down in piles as you shed them, layer by layer.

It felt strange to be in Ghost's house. Even more, it felt strange to be naked in Ghost's house. Quickly you unfold the clothes he'd provided, and then proceed to gawk.

Ghost hadn't been kidding. They did not fit. Just the t-shirt alone engulfed you. Somehow you managed to secure the sweatpants around your waist after finagling the drawstrings into a belt. Your legs swam in the fabric pooled around your feet. Haphazardly you roll them into cuffs.

Ghost, again, wasn't kidding. Shucked of your wet clothes, blanketed by his, you were already feeling better. The world felt a little less shattered around you. You hang your old clothes over the shower rod in the hope’s they’d be dry by morning.

When you leave the bathroom and saunter back to his kitchen, you find him there leaning against the table in wait. For a brief moment, he doesn't see you enter. And for that brief moment, your eyes plant on the sliver of skin visible between the gap of where his t-shirt ended, and his mask began. His gaze flicks over to yours and you meet it.

"Better?" He asks.

"A lot better." You say with a relieved sigh. You fidget with the hem of your shirt, eyes downcast, thinking the night over. "Goodbye hangout spot."

"Hangout spot? Are we fifteen?" Ghost scoffs, laughing lowly under his breath. He motions for you to follow and you're led into a modest bedroom.

"Come on, it was like a hangout spot. And now it's gone." Your voice falls at the end, and doesn't go unnoticed by his listening ears. He watches you through the corners of his eyes. "Was one of my favorites, too."

"We'll find another." He offers.

You shrug. "It won't be the same."

Ghost sighs and wanders to the side of the bed, and only then do you notice the blankets laid out on the floor.

"We'll make it the same. Come on, you need some sleep."

When he pulls the blanket from the mattress back in invitation, you frown. Even more so when he begins to kneel on the blankets mounted on the floor.

"I'm not sleeping in your bed. I'll take the floor." You deadpan. He shakes his head.

"Absolutely not."

"Man, come on. Let me."

"Not a chance." He settles over the blankets, laying flat on his back. You crawl onto the bed to peek over the edge down at him.

"Are you sure?" You ask.

Those blues peer up at you from the floor. They roll, his voice a grunt. "Shut it. When's the last time you got real sleep?"

You scoff. "You're gonna' talk to me about getting real sleep? I could ask you the same question."

Ghost laughs deep in his chest. A sound you rarely get the joy of hearing. But then he rolls over, back facing you, and you feel him shut the argument down in one fell swoop. Your combative perspective dies somewhere in the back of your brain, and suddenly your new focus is just how plush Ghost's bed is. It sucks you in, it feels. Practically reaches up with and tugs you down against it. You sprawl out, your muscles crying out in relief.

The scent of him surrounding you is intoxicating. As is the deep, soft breaths you hear from the floor. Your head suddenly becomes too heavy to lift.

"You know what," You mumble with half-lidded eyes. "I think I am gonna' take the bed."

Whether Ghost answers or not, you're unsure, asleep nearly the same second the last syllable left your lips. A heavy dream cloaks the forefront of your mind.

And it paints such awful pictures.

Fireworks of light, clapping explosions, and the distant howls of your friend's voices echo cry into the back of your mind. All you know is that you're running, your legs struggling to heave the weight of you. Darkness nips at your heels as you flee. Hands grab at you from all angles, long twisting fingers rooted to bony knuckles.

The crashing waves of the emptiness pass you with ease and you're swallowed into nothingness. Your feet splash through it like a pitch-black puddle. Though warped, you catch your own reflection in the murky depths. You kneel down and reach out, touch at the wet surface. It rippled like water but sat on your finger thick, like honey.

It reeked of tar.

And before you knew it, staring at the black ooze, a hand crashes through the surface and wraps it's spindly fingers around your arm. It yanks, rips you down. You struggle to your feet with an outcry, find your footing despite the hands hold, just to see more hand breaching. Your feet sink inches into the murk. The hands claw at your ankles, and then your legs. The ground drinks you down. Your thighs, then your waist.

"Fucking hell." A voice garbles, echoing and distant. The choir of outcries beat against your eardrums.

Your eyes search, and they land on something emerging from the darkness. A creature shadowed in the darkness blossomed, its dripping teeth and glowing eyes drawing closer. The air pulls from your lungs and you choke on nothing.

The creature claps its talons over your shoulders, its grip puncturing bullet-sized holes into your flesh. You rip and tear fruitlessly. It taunts you, laughs at you. Gargles your name out fuzzy and far away. You're suffocating.

"Look at me!" It chants, shaking you ragged. "Open your eyes!"

Your mind statics and blurs around the edges. Your eyes clench shut, and then tear back open, and it's like being pulled out of the water. You suck in your first full breath. A hand presses firm to your cheek and you react with vitriol, ripping away with its touch. Fighting harder when it persists, another hand planting on your shoulder to keep you still. The image of the monster lights up in your mind, with its piercing stare and snapping jaws.

"It's me!" A voice rings in your ears from a foot away. Right there, real. It reaches into your mind and drags you out with a thrashing heart and heaving chest.

The creature melts into the familiar shape of Ghost before your eyes, and that's when you realize it's silent. Nothing but the sound of both of your heavy breaths. The color floods back.

"It's me." He says again, softer this time, edged with gruffness. He touches at your arm, the other still set firm on your other shoulder. You peer up with him through tears.

"I couldn't breathe." Is all you manage to sputter.

For a long moment, he studies you. Then he drags his touch down the length of your arm, to your shaking wrists. He pulls at your hands and gently drags you to sit before he settles beside you. He sinks the mattress down and you don't stop yourself from tilting and resting on him, too tired to fight anything anymore. Besides, you needed it. Needed to feel his presence, the sense of safety his energy alone provided.

When he doesn't immediately shift away, you wonder if he knows it too. Or, maybe he feels pity. Feels bad and isn't really sure what to do other than just... be there. Which doesn't necessarily not work. When your body goes lax against him, you can hear the deep, long breath that escapes him.

Relief.

Relief because finally you seem like you’re all together.

"I'm sorry for making you take care of me." You croak. "Fuck, this is so embarrassing."

"Enough of that. Relax." Ghost's voice is so quiet. You don't think you'd ever heard him bring his voice so low, barely even audible. You wonder if you'd scared him, somehow. Or perhaps he felt if he spoke too harsh, too loud, you’d be rocketed back into your spiraling.

The image of that monster you'd gone face to face with seeps into your thoughts. It sends a chill over the plains of your skin, reminds you how vulnerable to feel without a blanket on. As if he reads your mind, Ghost drags it up from the foot of the bed and drapes it over you. Even goes so far as to slightly tuck the edges haphazardly.

When you realize he goes without, you frown.

"Here," You say, lifting the side of the blanket and tossing it over his legs. Any minute now, you expect him to roll his eyes and return to his place back on the floor.

But, instead, he gets comfortable. He shifts, sinks into the bed just a little more. Breathes just a little deeper. Warmth blooms in your chest and rides straight up to your cheeks, masked by the darkness. You can't however, hide mask the smile that takes over your lips when his shoulders go slack. His head tips to rest on yours.

The world stops turning for a moment. Lost in his breathing, his heartbeat slowing in your ears. Somehow, you think deep in your mind, that perhaps this had made it all worth it. His hands rest in his lap, just as yours do.

Barely, just barely, you touch the back of your knuckles to his own and let your eyes fall shut. His skin vibrates against yours.

You aren't sure the exact moment you doze off into a quiet slumber, but you do, fit with heavy eyelashes and mirrored breaths.

[glacialdeath]

@orangeshinigami asked: ❛  i wish i could dream of something beautiful or peaceful for a change.  ❜

Her natural instinct to such whining is to combat it with a quip and a sharp gaze. "Sorry, I'm a shinigami, not a genie."

Curious words asking why his sleep might be particularly troubled nearly leave her lips, but she pauses. With her mouth remaining agape for a second, she catches herself. Violet eyes peek under ebony hair carefully over at him, wary and cautious, as if he is some kind of deer that she'll scare off with a single step. Rukia had learned that lesson before with him: there could be wounds or trauma that remain as damage on his soul like a minefield, and no matter how much she thought she could rationalize for him, or how naturally curious she was to ask on these subjects, she needed to let it remain only a talk he could initiate, and not one for herself to start. So, she bottles her inquiries into a clasped fist, and tosses aside those running nosy thoughts.

But regardless of whether she knew why or not, something remains, leaving an ache on her heart that her hand rises to try and suppress, pressing the hand against her chest. With a sigh, and steeling herself, she sits up. Rukia starts by tossing him an extra pillow, sending it flying through the air so smoothly that it seemed to float for a second. "Lay back. Look at the stars by the window, and just talk at me for a moment." There's a familiar bossiness in her tone that indicates that she's not gonna relax until he does as she ask, no matter how much of a judging voice he gives her. "Tell me about what kind of things you hope for, or what you wish for." She gives a pause for him to think or fully take in her words, but doesn't let it sit completely, instead daring him to give in to her ask and making it seem all the more pitiful if he denies it, while guiding him all the same. "Don't think too hard, just answer. You're young, I'm sure you got plenty. "

To try and string up the momentum, she confesses her own, clearing her throat and forcing herself to carry through while looking past him, as if traveling to days long past while still being present. "For me, I used to say," She preps herself for mock, but she cannot completely rid the embarrassment of reusing foolish naive ideas from her childhood that sound cheesy in hindsight. “I’d dream of being someone my friends can depend on, that looks after them, and become someone that is strong and creates a home that they want to protect. ...And maybe something about getting a pet rabbit with the softest fur or something." She can't combat the redness that comes to her cheek at returning to that particular old admission.

To the kids in Inuzuri, this prompt was a tradition that became like a spell, spoken to the stars poking out of the holes in the roof to lull them to sleep on the difficult nights. When they went to bed with their words echoing in their minds, it tended to fend off the nightmares that sprouted out of the horrible things that existed just outside of their little fragile falling apart shack, and Rukia would hope that some part of the magic still held true with it. Resting her head on a knee she pulled back, shutting her eyes, and peeking open one as she adds one last comfort, leaving it unclear if her words are serious or another tease of hers. "I promise, I won't remember anything you say in the morning. I'll close my eyes, and you can just say it to the air." It's a moment that reminds her that he's still a teenager when it comes down to it, and he's been through some awful sights of his own at a young age.

[xmoriartea]

With Rahadin's marching orders on Vallaki divined by Alkali, there was just one thing left to do: prepare to murder an elf.

Alkali immediately got to work with setting Forbiddance across the town again and discovered the Martikovs had left the Inn in the care of Glita and Gaetor — the local general store owners who Alkali had previously married — while they took care of Family Business.

We grabbed some of Gaetor's egg mess breakfast (the halfling cannot cook yeesh), and whole lot of us joined the Newly Weds™ at their weird pocket fortress they stole from Kalina's attic.

Things needed to get done and we had to game plan - there were so many plans, also we looked over things we'd been stockpiling over the last few weeks.

Lots to do, not nearly enough time. But at least Bandit was vibing.

Before we split up, an octopus floated through the sky towards us. Taron learned new warlock things! Woo! But he was telling us things were ROUGH™ underwater with dead things pounding on their doors. Less Woo.

I sent a Sending to a merfolk vampire we has scared off — his name is Ricardo — and told them if they wanted to prove themselves, to protect the Sanctuaries from the outside. They were Not Thrilled™ but said they'd try. It was the best we could offer the lake until other things were dealt with.

Meanwhile, Tanner, somehow, being the face?? had a few more people to go check in on.

Lady Wachter for one and trying to explain to her that Holtz was Strahd was Something™ APPARENTLY Strahd is just TOO BUSY to meet his people, so she's never actually seen him before.

Busy my ass.

But she was shook enough to maybe believe it, and Tanner made sure she knew what was at stake and what would happen if she turned on us. Then he popped off to the wizard elves who were a little magic hung over in their home-shack (we sort of shoved them in Bluto's old place since he was fish food and Alkali doesn't like the elves anyway).

Kasimir did not want to believe there were People in the lake, and also was not convinced Alkali isn't a man-eating Sahuagin based on Tanner's descriptions on the creatures that terrorized the merfolk prior to Strahd picking up that mantle. But alas, they were warned Rahadin was coming.

Alkali meanwhile took care of updating a very tired Ismark on both the whole Rahadin thing and the whole 'btw two of your council people just got married' thing. Not sure what concerned him more. But he did promise to get her a drink after this and she's holding him to it.

While Tanner had more individual stops to make, she checked the walls, trying to get an idea of what waited for them outside and also told some guards to shove their fucking racism because there were definitely more dead peasants than Vistani out there.

But she DID see an unfortunately familiar Vistani corpse out there.

But the Newly Weds had some Frostwhispers to share the news with, and probably good to do that before war hit the town more so right? So to House Frostwhisper they went.

Faraga was cackling outside and chucking bottled storms at the house to taunt Ethel - Tanner wanted her to bring water to the town... so she got Weird about it. But points for creativity!

Inside, Papa Frostwhisper was shocked by news, a little sad he didn't get to see it, but happy for them. Also terrified for Tanner. GG. Grand/Mother-in-Law Ethel is a nightmare and he welcomed Tanner into the family, but also maybe advised him to run a little

They found Ethel using her current model boy toy to move mechanical bits around for her in her she-shed-workshop out on the grounds. SHE actually made the pump system Tanner was looking for.

Ethel being... Ethel. Did not accept that her ""fAiLuRe"" granddaughter had gotten married. Insisted this was a stupid prank. To which Kalina kissed Tanner to shut up her grandmother, and then dragged him out onto the street.

Grandmother was v angy but Tanner was proud.

Some of out friends had been out looking for supplies or bringing Tanner's things from the Inn to the Fortress, and so the two got to work as soon as they got back - artificers, man, they never stop.

But as the Clerics were rejoining the party.... war horns started to sound...

Rahadin had entered the chat.

With a force of 40~ and 2 fucking undead cyclops behind him, Rahadin had come to Vallaki.

And his grotesque little shouty friend was decreeing they were here to arrest Arabelle on grounds of treason. Like that was going to happen.

Tanner launched a paper bird with a wanted sign for Strahd saying we were investigating him on the grounds of impersonating a noble, but weirdly, that's a charge they didn't care about. So he launched a cold mold bomb at the shouty boi

See Tanner's built these horrific cold mold bombs that just CHASE open flames and do massive cold damage. And when Rowan shot a little bit of fire at it... That shouty bastard did not know what hit him.

Rahadin sent the cyclops forward, prepared to take down our walls, and Alkali simply said No to that, Turning Undead and sending both cyclops fleeing. And you know, Rahadin's not a happy fellow, but it SEEMED like that wasn't how he wanted that to go. Huh. Weird.

Tanner gave us all fly and we took the fucking fight to them, He put up an ice wall around Rahadin, sectioning him off from his army, and Alkali saw her chance.

See Alkali is a siren sort. She guards the ships that sink and she does not save sailors. She makes sure they go down with her ships.

And Rahadin... Rahadin wanted to drain a lake to catch a fish.

She didn't like that.

Rahadin fell, quickly. And one critical hit from our lady elven cleric he'd been quite rude to and one failed save and Rahadin was down.

... his cohorts didn't super want to leave it at that thoogh and called a fucking Undead Dragon down from the skies.

So for under a minute in real time (lol combat) there were two fights going on:

Tanner, Kalina, Mina, and Rowan were all focused on the FUCKING DRAGON.

Alkali and Arabelle focused on taking out the leadership that kept trying to reach Rahadin's body.

See I was going to make sure this genocidal dusk elf stayed DEAD.

And then the amazing happened...

Arabelle managed to counterspell a Revivify on Rahadin.

But the priestess was up to something. Something... I as the party cleric was intimately familiar with.

Y'all its rude to use your player's abilities against them!

The evil priestess got some Intervention. And while her god gave her some UMF, she still had to cast it again. Unfortunately for her, she was right in Sunbeam path and that second revivify never went off. Tragic.

Free diamond though!

Meanwhile, the dragon was doing some fucking damage, it hit like a fucking truck. But Kalina is a paladin now and she slammed some SMITES into those bones. The guards at the gate got to watch their councilwoman just DESTROY a dragon, it was beautiful.

And as the dust settled, Alkali lifted Rahadin's corpse from the field and flew up with it as she and Tanner addressed the army.

Rahadin was dead. Their dragon destroyed. Revaluate. Do you surrender or leave?

One of them got mouthy, so Tanner fire bolted their trebuchet...

...and we returned to the wall to a fucking sea of applause.

They were still concerned about the whole undead army thing outside, but we just cleared out hundreds of them, a dragon, and RAHADIN.

Instant Morale Boost.

Also: Rahadin's in a bag of holding!

That's always fun.

Over lunch, Alkali debated whether she was going to Animate him (SO TEMPTING. SHE REALLY WANTED TO SIC RAHADIN ON STRAHD OKAY) or do the sMaRt thing and funeral rite/curse him so he can't come back. She'd have to think on it more.

[sombersynth]

Steddie Fanfiction Rec Masterpost pt. 2

I'm so happy that people liked my first Steddie fanfiction rec post, so I wanted to make another one to share even more amazing fics with everyone! Some of these are still being updated. I hope you enjoy!

Looking For Something Dumb to Do by Materialism, 2.5 k, explicit It's June 26, 2015. Eddie Munson turns fifty today. Steve has a question for him. (hey baby, I think I wanna marry you.)

Wasteland, Baby! by Coloredlove8, 43 k, explicit Nancy's look softened, her arms coming uncrossed, "Oh Stevie" She reached out and placed her hands on his cheeks, "it's something to do with Eddie, isn't it?" His eyes snapped up to look at her face, "How do you-" She smiled at him, "You can't see how you look at him." "How do I look at him?" He whispered. Her right thumb swiped against the sensitive skin under his eye, "Like you looked at me."

It Struck Me Deep (It Brought Me to My Knees) by Gorgeousgreymatter, 14.8 k, explicit It’s not even the nightmares most of the time. At this point, Steve would totally settle for some up close and personal time in his brainpan with the Upside Down if it meant he could actually fucking sleep.

In Too Deep by Hansbbrenton, 33 k, explicit Steve Harrington is having a hard time coming to terms with his identity, and a certain classmate is making things harder for him. He has to get help from an unlikely team, but learns that real love is out there. (Set in 1984/season 2 of the show)

Burn With Me (Heaven's On Fire) by Alexander_Slamilton, 32 k, mature “I think,” Steve mumbles, “I think I… I’m a little bit like you.” “In a gay way?” Robin asks, nudging him with her shoulder. “Yeah. I think so,” Steve whispers. “At least a little bit in a gay way.”

Easy, Easy, Easy by Judasofsuburbia, 25 k, explicit Eddie would be tucking kids into bed and reading them stories. Eddie would be making road-trip trail mix and packing a cooler with water bottles and juice boxes. Eddie as his life partner, the constant variable throughout anything. It no longer felt so scary to think about it. The fact that it wasn’t scary to think about in and of itself was scary but Steve has handled scary before. Multi-Chapter Fic showcasing slices of Steve Harrington and Eddie Munson living life together.

Money, Power, Glory by Anonymous, 15 k, explicit Steve starts paying Eddie for sex once he discovers that Eddie doesn't just deal drugs and perform at the Hideout. (Steve doesn't mean to fall in love with him, but he can’t help himself.)

The Art of Scraping Through by Robotguts, 2.5 k, teens and up Modern/Fake Dating AU. Steve doesn't mean to tell his entire 6th period English class that he's dating Eddie Munson. It just slips out. (He is not, in fact, dating Eddie Munson.)

The Touch Campaign by Damn_Illusive, 4 k, not rated Steve realizes that Eddie never touches him the way he touches everyone else. No bear hugs, no hair ruffles, not even a handshake. It's a silly thing to get hung up on but Steve can't seem to let it go.

Camp Folktale, Summer of ‘86 by Cairparavels, 58 k, not rated When Steve applies for a summer camp per Dustin's request, he doesn’t expect to have the most interesting summer of his life. Featuring a sulky metalhead who hates Steve for no reason, eight kids set on driving Steve to an early grave, Robin Buckley’s ability to charm any girl she wants, and Steve’s bisexual disaster-slash-dream-slash-nightmare. But hey, that’s what summer camp is all about. Right?

Stranger in a Strange Land by Mutedmirror, 12 k, explicit Eddie Munson, stoner college drop out, meets Steve Harrington, part-time grocery store clerk, during a late night shoplifting run to curb the munchies. What happens when Eddie makes his get away, only to find out he may not be rid of Steve just yet?

You’re My Permanent Vacation by Owlerie, 8 k, teens and up When Eddie lets Dustin convince him to volunteer at the kids’ summer camp for a little extra campaign time thrown in the mix, the last thing he expects is to be shacked up in a counselor’s cabin with resident cool guy and babysitter extraordinare Steve Harrington — who Eddie is pretty sure hates his guts. It’s too bad Eddie’s been nursing a massive — and massively embarrassing — crush on him for years.

Sedated by Rottin, 3.6 k, explicit There’s something along his scalp, for second Steve thinks it’s a bug and goes to swat it away; but then the ‘bug’ twirls a piece of hair around a finger, plays with the strand, then there’s nails on his scalp and— …Eddie is playing with his hair. Eddie is playing with his hair.

[champangekisses]

Whirlwind - Stranger Things

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: swearing, mentions of affair, mentions of smoking (cigarettes), fem!reader

Summary: Y/n and her family move to Hawkins with her mom after a nasty divorce. Chaos ensues as her two brothers meet an interesting pair, who offer to show her around town.

A/n: Y/n has two older twin brothers-Leo and Levi, Y/n is eighteen. Steve and Eddie are friends in this because I said so. This is my first Stranger Things fic; I hope you like it!

Chapter One

“Smile!” 

I struggle to keep my fingertips from letting the box slip from my hold as my mom takes an embarrassing photo of us in front of our new home. My brothers, ‘the twins’ as my mother would refer to them as, chuckling at the sight of it before Levi swiftly takes it out of my hands, effortlessly carrying it in as if it weighed nothing more than a feather. “Leo. Make sure the last boxes get put in the kitchen!” My mom doesn’t hesitate to spit orders at us as she starts to slowly unpack, or at least tries to. I start to roam down the hallway, making my way to the room at the very end. Opening the door, I found the room still empty. 

“We figured you could have the biggest room, considering you always have to put up with our bullshit.” Levi stood behind me as he spoke, I turned to him with a smile. 

“I appreciate it, but you don’t have to. You guys have to share a room, it only makes sense to have the biggest.” He chuckled before he shook his head in disagreement, walking away and back into the other room, continuing to unpack his and Leo’s belongings. I retrieved the last of my things from the kitchen, where Leo was instructed to place everything. I can hear my mom rambling on about something to them, not close enough to make out what she was saying. Then, within the blink of an eye, the boys race to the door. My mom follows in heavy pursuit as the two of them jump into their cars, hitting the gas and racing away. I watch through the kitchen window as the thick cloud of smoke starts to fade away, revealing a group of kids watching in awe across the street as the pretty cars roar down the road and disappear around a bend. I smiled as they hopped onto their bikes, flabbergasted at the sight they witnessed and quickly took off. 

“Those boys are going to be the death of me.” My mom retorted as she made her way over to me and grabbed a dusty wine glass. I handed her a dish towel I pulled out of an open box on the floor, chuckling as I watched her open her bottle of wine. After a long couple hours of unpacking and stealing sips from my mom’s glass, I grew rather curious of the small town we now referred to as ‘home’. I asked my mom for the keys to her car so I can indulge in a quick joy ride into the unknown, she gave me a look of annoyance before tossing me the keys. I hopped into the little Audi Quattro that my mom won from the divorce. 

Honestly my dad didn’t quite deserve the house, he deserved nothing, but she refused to take it. I don’t blame her, having been the place she found him and his mistress shacking up. I couldn’t help but feel sick as I started it up, thinking back on how I believed him when he told me she was just a friend and there for work purposes. After all these years of him talking about his dreams, I hope he forever has nightmares.

I drove around the town, smiling and waving at all the people staring with curious eyes as I sped past. As I slowed to a stop at what seemed like the one stop light the place had to offer, I glanced at the car beside me in the turn lane. The Camaro was the prettiest of blues I have ever seen, as my eyes scanned the car for imperfections the passenger side window rolled down. There was a blonde in the driver’s seat, with a tinted pair of shades on and a smirk that only wreaked chaos. 

“Like what you see?” He spoke out, pulling down his glasses while leaning into his passenger seat just enough for me to see all of his features. I turned away as I could feel the burning gaze he held on me, only revealing a slight blush from being caught eye fucking my dream car. My light thankfully turned green as I hit the gas, watching in my rearview mirror as the Camaro sped off and I was in the clear. I made my way home, finally able to process my embarrassing interaction. As I pulled into the driveway, I noticed my brothers standing on the front porch, only not by themselves. I quickly put the car in park and shut off the lights, sitting in the car for a little longer as my anxiety arose by wondering who they were in conversation with. I finally grew the courage to step out, shutting the heavy car door as Levi shouted. 

“Y/n! Come meet Eddie and Steve!” My heart started to pound like a herd of cattle trampling my chest, meeting new people has never been my strongest suit. 

“It’s nice to me you Y/n!” The curly haired brunette smiled widely with the most excitement I’ve ever seen a singular person show during an introduction, he tried reaching for my hand until his friend ripped it back in disapproval.  

“Eddie. Chill out, we’re not trying to scare her.” I stared at the friend, curious as to why he had such a sharp tone but also thankful to have retrieved the hand before I was forced to make physical contact with a stranger. 

“Sorry.” Eddie whispered softly as he caressed his wrist, staring down at his feet then back up at his friend. 

“My name is Steve, I hope you grow to like it here. Maybe I can show you around sometime? Only if you’d want to.” I raised my eyebrow. 

“Uh, I think I'll pass.” Steve tightened his lips, looking everywhere but me as he nodded. Meanwhile, Eddie started peeking through my living room windows. Levi and Leo shrugged as I started walking towards the door, as I reached out and touched the handle I gave an obnoxiously loud sigh. 

“Steve, right?” I questioned as I turned around to face the boy, Eddie quickly regained focus on our conversation while my brothers grew silent. Steve stayed silent with wide eyes before I nodded and continued, pinching the bridge of my nose in annoyance and slight disbelief as to what I’m about to sign up for. “I guess I can have you show me around for a little bit tomorrow, but nothing more than an hour.” 

Even though I was irritated, Steve didn’t care. He gave me a soft smile, one that he shared with the same boy I left behind. Seeing the excitement on Eddie’s face made my decision well worth it, not knowing that he took this as an opportunity to make a friend that won’t think he’s a complete freak.

I continued on my way inside the house as the boys picked back up the conversation, I placed the keys on a box near the door before approaching my mom asleep on the couch. Picking up the empty wine glass from the floor in front of her I gently nudged her arm. 

“Mom, I’m home.” She nodded before mumbling something I couldn’t distinguish, then quickly rolled over so her back was facing me. Rubbing her back, I whispered a goodnight. I placed the glass in the sink and watched as my two brothers quietly slid through the door, locking it behind them and giving me a nod. I gave a nod in return while shutting off the lights. I finally took it into my best interest to get some rest, excited yet worried for what my day will have in store for me tomorrow.

*

I’ve been awake for approximately three hours, ripping open box after box looking for my favorite t-shirt. Leo softly knocks on my door before slowly opening it so he can see into my disaster of a bedroom. 

“Need some help there, sis?” I shot him a look that could kill before sighing in defeat. 

“Actually, yeah. I could use the help.” I replied with sincerity as I slowly placed the thrown out items back into their rightful boxes. Leo knelt down beside me, picking up the remainder of my belongings as I explained my frustrations. 

“I told that Steve guy that he could show me around today and I can’t find my Metallica shirt, you know, the one that dad bought me when he took us to their concert in Indy?” Leo gave a soft sigh before replying. 

“I think we might have left it behind, but whenever they come back for another show we will definitely buy one again.” Sitting on the floor, I crossed my arms and fought to hold my tears back before quietly speaking. 

“If only dad didn’t do what he did. We would still be waking up to the smell of bacon in the morning, playing board games at night, talking about our days at dinner. Hell, I could still have my fucking shirt.” Leo exhaled a slight chuckle, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me into a sideways hug. 

“That could be a novel, Y/n and the Missing Metallica Shirt.” We shared a laugh before Leo rested the side of his head on mine, we stayed like that for what felt like too short of a time. It felt like I finally was in the eye of the storm, everything felt calm and comforting. I knew the madness would eventually end, but I hoped for it to be a lot sooner when it would be much later.

I eventually settled for a black tank top with little white daisies scattered all over it and paired it with my favorite pair of flared jeans. I grabbed my black vans resting on top of the coffee table before quickly asking Levi when his friends would be here. 

“Looks like somebody’s excited.” He teased, following with a devilish grin while a cigarette dangled in between his lips. 

“I think she’s excited to finally get a break from you and your brother.” My mom barked back, taking the cigarette out of his mouth as he flipped open his zippo. Levi huffed before closing it as quickly as he opened it, watching my mom crumple it up in her hand as she continued. “And Levi, how many times do I need to remind you of the no smoking in my house rule?” Levi leaned back onto the counter, elbows rested lightly as his feet crossed at his ankles. We shared a glance before laughing, my mom continuing on her way to the living room to pick up where she left off unpacking. My brothers might be 19, as tall as the Empire State building and some of my biggest critics, but they’re the coolest dudes I know.

As I finished sliding into my shoes and glancing at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, running my fingers through my hair and cursing at the few strands frizzing up on top I finally met Leo and Levi at the front door. “Since when have you been so worried about your appearance?” Leo spoke out, jabbing Levi in his side with his elbow. 

“Only when the humidity is unholy.” I joked, causing Levi to roll his eyes. The twins know all too well I go completely berserk when my hair's a mess, Leo chuckled acknowledging the familiar stress I experience all too well. As the purple BMW pulled into the driveway my brothers and I waved our mom goodbye as we walked out the door, Levi being the last one out but still forgetting to shut the door behind him. As I turned around to do so my mom swung it open, scolding the boys and sending me a smile before mouthing a quick, “have fun.” I sent her a soft smile before returning to the two boys interrogating the poor boy behind the wheel.

“2 hours Harrington.” Leo pressed, causing Levi to chime in. “No funny business, man; I got your plate number, I know where you live.” Steve stared at the two with the look as if he’d seen the angel of death. 

“You don’t need to be scared of them; you should be scared of me. I was basically raised by them.” I sent the two a smirk as I swung open the passenger door, Steve greeting me with a smile as he turns his head back to the two goons standing outside his car door. The smile quickly fades as they keep a deathly glare at him. 

“Y-yes, 2 hours. No funny business. Got it.” I clicked my seat belt in place as I released a sigh, the boys slapping the roof of the car before walking away and to their cars to do whatever the hell they have planned for today. Steve rolls up his window before excitedly speaking out. “So, we can grab a bite to eat? Go to the arcade? Family Video? Whatever strikes your fancy, we’ll go.” I crack the passenger window to get some air before replying. “Wait, where’s your friend? I thought he’d be here too?” Before Steve could say a word, Eddie shot up from behind me. 

“Me?”

Almost jumping out of my seat, Steve had to hold back a laugh as I gave the two of them an unamused stare. “Yeah, you.” I retorted before turning around in my seat to look at Eddie. “And why are you in the back seat again?” Raising an eyebrow and pointing a finger at the wild-eyed teenager. 

“Oh, because Steve only allows girls to sit in the front.” I glared over at Steve who had the most innocent and yet most guilty smile on his face. 

“Makes sense.” I remarked, turning back around to face the dashboard before Eddie spoke once more. 

“I think we should grab a bite first.” Steve and Eddie both looking at me for any sign of disagreement, I gave a quick nod before Steve put the car in reverse and chuckled. 

“Brunch it is.”

[germvity]

RISES THE MOON

leon s kennedy x reader // 4 // new solutions

"asshole.." leon hisses as the entity takes it's leave. "leon! are you alright." you rush to pamper the blonde as he sits up. "i'm fine, don't worry." leon flushes red, getting up and offering you his hand. "come on, lets get some rest, hm?" he smiles, and you take his hand to follow him into the woods.

genre: fluff with the most miniscule smidge of smut (not really but its there), angst

tags: alcohol/drinking, reader being a clingy drunk <3, crying, cuddles!, leon tryna be smooth 😭✋, the entity trying to be nice, head pats for leon <3 this chapter might be a bit shorter im sorry :(

warnings: alcohol consumption, crying, my slow burn </3, almost smut, nightmares with comfort

---

your sat on your cot waiting for leon to get back from trials. "hello." a familiar voice chimed. you look up, seeing a claw with a small, tattered basket. "i brought you a gift. whilst it is against my personal rules to interfere with survivors and killer's behaviour... i feel like i have to apologise thst you're being targeted and not being treated fairly." the entity purrs, it's silky voice sending a tremble down your spine. "what's the catch..?" you ask, leaning away from the basket. "no catch, my mouse. take my gift." the claw moved towards you and you flinch, too used to the appendage stabbing you to take your life in trials. shaky hands grasp the basket carefully, pulling it from the claw's hooked figure. "enjoy. perhaps share it with mr. kennedy. he's almost out and i know you two are growing close." you can hear the entity's 'smile' as it raises through the gap in the rundown shack. "thank you..?" you reply, placing the basket on your cot in front of you as you stare at it in wonder.

eventually, curiosity gets the better of you and you lean towards the basket. slowly, you peel the cloth back and gasp. a bottle of whiskey sat nestled in the cloth. a grin finds your lips as you lift the bottle carefully. you felt like if you weren't careful, the bottle would leave you. "holy shit." you giggle, popping the cap off with a spare screwdriver from your toolbox. giving the bottle a sniff, you confirm it is in fact whiskey. after finding that out, you immediately take a swig, welcoming the burn happily. "fuck, that's really good..!" your eyelids flutter with pleasure as the whiskey settles warmly in your stomach. you can't help but drink a bit more, then a bit more, and then more. leon wouldn't mind, right?

"y/n..?" leon calls carefully, peeking into your abode to see if you were finished with your own trials. "leon!" you beam, making grabby hands at him. "uhh... y/n?" leon furrows his brows in confusion, unsure what happened to you. normally you were quiet, not wanting to get in the way in fear he would yell at you yet now you were loud, smiling and bubbly. "c'mere..!" you whine, urging him to join you. "ah." leon sighs, spotting the empty whiskey bottle on your bed. "and where did you get this?" he asks, picking up the bottle and setting it on the floor. "entity gave me a gift." you smile, grabbing his wrist to pull him down onto your bed. leon gave an unsure hum, settling down next to you. "i've missed you." you giggle, clambering onto leon's lap and helping him take off his bullet proof vest before wrapping your arms around his neck to latch onto him. leon's arms find your waist as he lets you settle on him with red cheeks. "i- uh... i missed you too." the blonde replies, rubbing your back gently. you hum happily, nuzzling your face against leon's cheek, your fingers tangling with his hair as you cuddle him. "you feeling okay?" leon asks softly, subconsciously pulling you closer. "mhm!" you nod, giving leon's neck a soft kiss.

the officer gasps at the feeling, face heating up. "y/n." he says, but you keep going. "y/n, no. i don't wanna do this to you." leon huffs, going to move you away but your limbs wrapped around him tightened as your weight pulled him on top of you when you lay back. "please.." you pout, cupping his face. "y/n, you're drunk." leon sighs, untangling your legs so he could sit up. you sigh too, sitting up as you lean back against your wall to pull your knees up. "sorry..." you mumble, not making eye contact with the flustered blonde. "it's okay.." leon replies awkwardly, glancing at you. "i just... wanna feel happy for once." you admit. resting your head on your knees. "i know. i just feel like i'll be taking advantage of you whilst you're in this state." leon admits, moving over to you when he realises you're crying. leon pulls you back onto his lap, coddling you as you cry. "it'll get better. c'mere. just breathe, yeah?" leon soothes, rubbing your back. you sniffle in a stuttered breath, looping your arms under leon's own to cling onto him tightly. "i just wanna go home.." you sob, letting him wipe your tears as you whimper into his chest. leon sighs, combing his fingers through your hair to try and soothe you. "we're just gonna have to make the most of this whilst we're here." leon shrugs, resting his head on top of yours. "take me home, i really wanna go home." you wail, and leon closes his eyes.

"we're gonna make it through this, y/n." leon says, laying down with you as you wipe your eyes. "come on, get some rest, hm?" he continues, cupping your cheek as he rests his forehead against yours. you slowly calm as you cuddle into him, grasping his shirt tightly with balled up fists of the fabric. "feel better?" he asks softly, wrapping his arms tightly around you. "a little.." you mumble, eyes still hazy with alcohol. "good... keep taking deep breaths." leon whispers, stroking your cheek comfortingly. you hum with content, happy with the contact. "sleepy?" leon asks teasingly as he smiles. "mmm, maybe.." you giggle, moving to nestle your head under his chin.

"leon?" you ask quietly, and leon instantly hums in response. "you won't leave me, will you?" you mumble, eyes drooping as you wait for his response. "never. i'll always keep you safe. i'm not going anytime soon." he smiles, kissing the top of your head. "mmm, thank you. you're so good.." you yawn, "such a good boy." you smile, and leon flushes red. "thanks." he chuckles, rubbing your back as you doze off. "god... you're so cute." leon mumbles, kissing your head again. "ah? did you say somethin'?" you drawl sleepily. "no, i didn't say anything. go back to sleep." leon soothes you, and you settle again quickly. the blonde lets out a soft breath, coddling you tightly as you sleep. "you deserve so much better than this." leon mumbles, his thumb gently stroking your bottom lip as he looks at you. "so cute..." he smiles, giving your nose a soft kiss.

you sniffle, making a small noise before nuzzling closer to him, your hands slipping around his chest to hold the fabric on his back instead as you shuffle closer. "you're so adorable." he continues, letting you snuggle into his neck. "god, why do i feel like this...?" he whispers to himself, unsure what to do with his feelings as you continue dreaming. "i shouldn't feel like this." leon sighs, his hands idly rubbing circles on your back as his fingers massage your scalp.

knowing he is in over his head, leon gives up on thinking and lets his own eyes flutter closed as he also tries to doze off. "leon..?" you mumble softly, and the officer hums looking at you. however, you were still sleeping and he furrows his brows. "y/n?" leon mumbles to you, and you shuffle slightly. "leon?" you whimper, tightening your hold on him. instead of answering, the blonde man decides to observe instead. "leon!" you seem to be getting more distressed, and his protective nature flares. "hey, hey. i'm right here. it's okay, i'm right here." leon replies to your call, and watches you slowly soothe. "i'm still here, darling." he whispers again for good measure and you fall into a peaceful slumber once more.

the officer sighs, keeping you close as he slowly starts to settle himself. eventually, leon falls asleep himself, rolling over with you so you were between him and the wall of the shack. you mumble incoherently at the movement, eyelids fluttering as you stir. yet, leon's deep breathing and soothing heartbeat makes you fall asleep once more.

[missymurphy1985]

The Return

It's been 2 years since you were last in Dublin. 2 years since you up and left without warning, saying goodbye to your life there and restarting somewhere completely new. Sometimes, you have to go backwards in order to move forwards.

Requested by @noctvrnalmoth I hope you like it!

*Featuring Jim from the Delinquent Season*

Stepping off the train into the platform, you sighed. It all looked the same, and yet so different. Pulling the buggy open, you gently strapped your sleeping son in and made your way to the taxi rank, your suitcase trailing behind you. A kind lady helped you with your bags and waited with you for an available taxi.

"You look like you have the weight of the world on your shoulders there, are you okay?" She sat next to you on the bench as your son murmured adorably in his sleep. "Sorry, I don't mean to pry..."

"No don't be sorry.. just been a long time since I came back here is all. Few loose ends to tie up." You glanced at your son's sleepy features as his eyes started to open. Beautiful, ocean blue eyes alongside his dark hair, growing more every day... The memories of that night flooding back before you took a large gulp of water from the bottle in your bag, forcing them back down. You'd done so well... 2 years and you'd built a new life in London. New friends, amazing new job allowing you to put that degree in marketing to good use - you were finally making a complete fresh start. But the secrets you had buried deep inside kept coming to the surface the more your son grew. He deserved to know his roots, who his father was, you knew that, but you couldn't do it.

Choking a tear back, you thanked the kind lady for helping you as a taxi pulled up and she helped you to get in.

Pulling up outside your cousin Natalie's townhouse in the city centre, she was waiting for you at the gate to help with Jackson and your bags. Grinning from ear to ear she pulled you in for a huge hug once you'd got inside and settled on her couch as Jackson sat in this new lady's lap tugging at her earrings.

"I can't believe I'm only just meeting him y/n.. he's the image of you!!" She kissed his cheek, bringing him up to look at him properly for the first time not over Skype.

"I never see it, I just see.... I just see him I guess..." You mind wandered to the man you actually saw, but you didn't let it slip.

"Those EYES!!! So blue and vibrant, just beautiful!" Natalie was swooning now, she'd never seen eyes that blue on a baby. Your eyes were brown, so he clearly inherited them from his father, although you had never revealed his identity - just a drunken one night stand and he wasn't involved. You weren't lying, technically...

After catching up properly, Natalie told you she'd planned a few people coming over to welcome you back that evening - nothing major, just a few friends from years ago that were keen to see you after so long away.

"Oh.. yes, that would be nice... Um, who's coming?"

"Well I think David and Amanda, possibly Caroline.. I think Liam is asking Jim too but I'm not sure if he's up for it - he's been through a tough time lately.." you caught a gasp in your throat at the sound of his name. Last you heard, through Natalie, he and Danielle were going through a rough patch. Cheating accusations on both sides, they'd agreed to a trial separation. "Apparently she isn't as broken hearted as once thought - already shacked up with someone new, fancy house on the coast, new Jag on the driveway, she's doing quite well for herself!" Your chin began to wobble, not unnoticed by Natalie, who placed Jackson in his bouncer on the floor and moved to place a hand on your shoulder.

"I'm fine Nat, honestly I'm good. It was a long time ago, things have changed. I'm not that silly little girl with a crush anymore..." Natalie looked into your eyes. Nothing ever got past her.

"Y/n.. when I said I'd never seen eyes that blue, I meant on a baby. Only one person I know has eyes like that, and I think you know too. Tell me the truth, please?" You were frozen, until tears escaped and you couldn't stop them. Jackson looked to see his mum crying and began crying too. Scooping him up, you held him close.

"It happened once... Just once Nat... And he doesn't know and he doesn't need to know, let's just leave it there, yeah?"

"What?? This is Jim's son? I was almost kidding y/n... How could you keep this from him for 2 years??" She was stood up now in complete shock. Jim wasn't just her friend, he was her husband's brother - this made things even more intense. The atmosphere could be cut with a knife.

"Please Nat... This wasn't easy okay? I was 21, I slept with a married man, and I got pregnant... Then mum died.. I had to go back to London to sort out the funeral and the will... I didn't want to be seen as the homewrecker that got herself knocked up..."

"And what about Jackson? Doesn't he deserve to know his father?"

"Of course... And he would.. when I was ready Nat. And I'm not ready..."

"Not ready for what?" Liam, Natalie's husband was stood in the doorway, as you heard the front door close. Now standing next to him was the man you were desperately trying to avoid... Jim stood behind him, eyes wide at the sight of you with a baby in your arms.

"Baby, we need to go pick up that delivery from the post office, remember the one we missed last week?" Natalie pulled a confused Liam out of the room, leaving his brother and you alone.

"Y/n... Hey.. um.. how are you?" You tried to smile in response but your heart was pounding in your chest, you could barely breathe.

"I.. yeah.. um, yeah I'm okay.." you glanced down at his hand.. the wedding ring was gone. "I'm sorry to hear about you and Olivia..."

"Probably for the best eh... We weren't exactly getting along, just stayed together for the kids I think. They're older now though, they're fine. Y/n.. where did you go? Why did you go?"

"My mum was ill... She'd had a stroke and they couldn't save her, I had to go... I just stayed.. and things happened.."

"You had a baby..." He looked at the little boy in your arms, feeling extremely nervous now. "He must be just over a year old, right?" You nodded.

"13 months.."

"And we... We had sex y/n.. the day before you left..." His own breath was faltering now as the dates in his mind started to catch up. Again, you nodded, tears rolling down your cheeks. The realisation of what was happening dawned on Jim. He started to back away, before shaking his head and storming out of the house, the door slamming behind him making you and your son jump.

Your sobs came out in full force now, Liam and Natalie coming back into the room. Liam took Jackson into the kitchen to find him something to eat as Natalie held you.

"It's okay y/n... Give him time yeah? Poor guys just had the shock of his life, he'll come round." Your heart was sinking.. you hadn't meant for any of this to happen, but here it was. The memory of that afternoon had never left you, you hadn't even been able to move on - your son, for starters, looked just like him, how could you find love with anyone with the constant reminder of the man you'd never have around you 24/7.

Flashback

"I'm so sorry Jim, I didn't know who else to call..." You climbed into his car, cheeks burning as he picked you up from outside the pharmacy. You'd been walking along the road when a pothole in the pavement took you by surprise and you'd tripped, your ankle turning funny - the pain was horrific, but no one seemed to be answering your phone calls when you rang around for someone to come pick you up. Reluctantly, you'd dialled Jim's number, your cousin's brother in law. He'd given you his number the previous week, after offering to help you move into your new apartment later that month.

"No problem, I was just dropping the kids at school so I was only round the corner." He helped you into the car and drove you back to his house. "I figured your place is in boxes, no chance of a first aid kit either, I'm guessing?"

"No," You laughed. "Thank you so much.." you grimaced as you turned your foot round, trying to ease the pain.

"Definitely not broken, just need to rest it. I'll put the kettle on." Jim led you into the kitchen and sat you down at the kitchen table, and grabbed an ice pack from the fridge. Lifting your leg onto the chair opposite, he placed the ice pack onto your ankle. "Feeling okay?" He asked, flicking the kettle on and preparing two mugs of coffee.

"Much better.. thank you." Definitely better.. the physical contact from him was driving you insane, you had to swallow the blushes in your cheeks, praying he hadn't noticed.

"I've only got instant coffee... Hope that's okay - Danielle won't let me buy a coffee machine." He rolled his eyes. His wife was one of the tightest women he'd ever met.

"It's fine, thank you.. and I honestly can't thank you enough for coming to get me.. I can't believe how clumsy I am!"

"Hey those pavements are a nightmare - I'm surprised no one's broken a leg yet! Don't you be moving now, I'll take you back home once that swelling has gone down."

"How did you know how to fix it all?"

"I have a son, y/n, who at one stage a few years ago thought he was an actual superhero and would fling himself off anything to check if he could fly.. you learn the difference between a broken ankle and a twisted one pretty quick!" He laughed, remembering the time his son climbed the tallest tree in the park, giving him a heart attack before throwing himself from the top - luckily Jim caught him before he hit the floor.

"I think it's better now, Jim, I can try and walk." You said, after chatting for a while in the large kitchen.

"Let me help you.." he held your hands and guided you upright, your chests now pressed together as you placed your foot gingerly on the floor, testing it's strength. Stumbling slightly, Jim caught you, your bodies now even closer together. You could feel his heart racing, could he feel yours? His hands wrapping around yours, holding you up, an arm snaking round your waist. You looked up and found him looking right back at you, your face inches from his. Before you had time to think, you kissed him, before quickly pulling back.

"Shit I'm sorry... Oh god.. no... I'm sorry..." He took your hand in his and pulled you back to him, pressing his lips back to yours. This time you didn't pull back, your mouth opening allowing his tongue to dance against yours. Lifting you up, he sat you on top of the counter, his hands roaming your body hungrily.

"I can't... I shouldn't..." He murmured against your neck, the vibrations driving you wild with need. "You're so fucking beautiful y/n..." He ground your hips against yours, you could feel his erection through his jeans as you reached down to cup it through them, kneading it slightly. He growled, pulling your hand up to his chest, his heart hammering underneath his shirt. "You feel that? Feel how fast that's going?" Silently you took his hand and placed against your chest.

"Feel mine...." You pushed his hand down lower.. over your breast... Down your stomach and under the waistband of your skirt. His fingers found your folds, and he gasped your name. "I'm wet... I'm so fucking wet..." Lifting your skirt up, he pulled your underwear down. You relieved him of his jeans and they fell to the floor, revealing no underwear, just his huge, hard cock already leaking.

"I see you are too..." You ran a finger along the slit, taking some of the precum and lifting it to your mouth. "You taste good..."

"You want this...?" He asked, lining himself up against you. You nodded, and he pushed in easily, you gasped his name and threw your head back as he filled you completely. Pulling on your hips, he rocked you against him as he moved his own hips back and forth, fucking you against the countertop. You legs wrapped round his waist as his thrusts came harder, deeper, faster.

"Fuck... Right there... Jim... Oh god...." He bit down on your exposed neck, hands pushing against your still covered breasts, he moaned.

"Feels so good y/n... You feel so good... That's it baby, I need to feel you... Cum for me..." You leaned back, and eyes locked with his you drew a hand down to circle your clit as he moved inside you.

"Gonna make myself cum on you... Gonna cum hard for you... Faster Jim..." He pounded into you now, your moans echoing through the kitchen as you came over him, his release following seconds later. Both of you leaned your heads together as your worlds came back into focus.

Present Day

"Hey."

"Hey.." you'd agreed to meet Jim for a coffee a few days later. He'd called you the evening before, slightly tipsy which made you chuckle. Liam and Natalie were watching Jackson while the two of you caught up.

"How's the hangover?" You smiled, he grimaced.

"Well I've definitely felt fresher.. it was a bit of a shock y/n..."

"Listen.. for what it's worth.. I'm sorry. I didn't know I was pregnant until I was nearly 20weeks. With the stress of losing mum and the funeral, I hadn't had a period for a while but I thought it was just the stress.. then my friend convinced me to take a test and the doctors confirming it.. it was too late to do anything about it.. then I heard you and Danielle were trying for another baby and I just couldn't do it Jim.. I couldn't destroy your life like that.." your hands were shaking. He leaned over and took your hands in his.

"I understand y/n.. I do. I spent most of this week thinking about it. I don't blame you for what you did.. but I do wish you'd told me."

"I'd done enough damage Jim, sleeping with a married man? On his kitchen counter where he makes his kids breakfast? Where his wife makes her coffee in the morning? I couldn't face you.. I couldn't face what I'd done.."

"You know where my wife was, that morning?" He leaned back, smiling a little. "At her office, bent over the desk while her boss fucked her from behind. She called my number by accident while it happened. I didn't answer, obviously, I was busy.. but my voicemail picked up the whole thing. I'd had my suspicions for a long time, but that confirmed it. We were never trying for another baby - that's just what she told people to distract them from the fact we were clearly falling apart at the seams. Couldn't exactly be mad at her after what I'd done with you though."

"Did you tell her?"

"Yes, but she didn't know it was you. Then you up and left.. I thought there was no need to tell her who it was. I guess now we kinda have to, right?"

"Jim, I don't expect anything from you, okay? I have an inheritance from my mum, I'm fine for money, there's no need to be involved if it'll cause you problems.."

"No. You've kept him from me for nearly 2 years y/n, don't do this again, please? I'm not asking you to move in, I'm not asking for a relationship, I just want to get to know our boy.. that's all.. please?" You saw it in his eyes. It was there, for all to see. Was it love?

"I'll call Nat.. ask her to bring him over, maybe we could go for a walk?" Jim smiled, nodding. You made the call, and an hour later you were walking to the local park, Jim pushing the stroller. He took Jackson out of the buggy and placed him inside a baby swing, pushing him gently while pulling silly faces making him giggle. Your heart swelled watching them.

"He's incredible.. those eyes.."

"Your eyes, Jim." He looked up at you and smiled listening to his son's giggle, before he started becoming grouchy again.

"He's teething... Come on little man, let's get you back shall we?" Jim lifted him from the swing and placed his little finger in Jackson's mouth. He responded by sucking his gums along it, finding relief. You smiled, watching Him soothe your son's whimpers of pain as his teeth came through.

Making your way inside Natalie's house, you were surprised to find it empty. A note on the kitchen counter read that they'd gone out for the afternoon, they wouldn't be home until the evening. You warmed a bottle of milk for Jackson as Jim gave him some Calpol. Taking the bottle from you, he fed his son, as you watched, heart pounding as you watched the man you were still in love with take such good care of your baby. Within 15 minutes, Jackson was fed and had been rocked to sleep in his father's arms, you took him and placed him upstairs in his cot to nap. You knew he'd be out for at least an hour after all that fresh air. Walking back into the lounge, you found Jim sat on the sofa waiting for you.

"Come here, y/n..." You sat next to him as he turned to face you, hand gently caressing your cheek. "What are we going to do now?"

"I'm heading back to London tomorrow Jim..." His eyes glistened slightly. He'd just found his son, and now he was going again. He'd just got you back in his life, and now you were disappearing again...

"What can I do to make you stay?" His question took you by surprise. Stay?

"Jim, I..."

"I haven't stopped thinking about you.. about what happened 2 years ago. How long I'd wanted you, how long I'd dreamt of you, how I still dream of you even now.. and we share a son y/n.. I can't let you go again, it'd break me.."

"I'm half your age Jim! I'm barely older than your eldest child, how can this possibly work?" He answered with a kiss. Leaning forward to take your mouth against his, without thinking you returned it, linking your fingers with his as he pulled you into his lap.

"It'll work because we'll make it work.. nothing else matters.. all of that other stuff is irrelevant.." he felt you grind your hips against his and his erection was burning against his jeans. He needed you, now.

"And Danielle?"

"Is fucking a man old enough to be her own father - opinion invalid. I don't care about her, I care about you.. please.." he was aware of how desperate he sounded but he didn't care. He had his hand under your t-shirt against your breast, no bra in the way this time. Lifting you up, he carried you upstairs to the guest room you were staying in, and laid you down softly on the bed underneath him.

"Birth control?" He looked at you, smiling.

"The coil - don't worry, I'm covered this time.." You smiled back as he lifted your t-shirt over your head and kissed you again. The reason for being at the pharmacy 2 years ago was to collect your prescription for the pill - you'd not taken it for a couple of days after running out suddenly. After Jackson was born, you switched to a more efficient form of birth control.

Pulling your skirt down and off, along with your underwear, he nestled his face between your thighs, now parted by his hands.

"I want you to watch me y/n... Watch me as I make you cum..." Your core burning, you raised yourself up on your elbows as he blew a hot breath against your wet folds, causing you to shiver under him. He parted your lips with his fingers, before licking from your pulsing hole up to your clit, finding a rhythm that made you cry out and shudder underneath his tongue. Smiling, groaning into you, you tried to keep your eyes on him as he licked and sucked your throbbing clit in his mouth.

"Jim.. don't stop.. oh god..." You hadn't had sex since that afternoon 2 year ago, no one being good enough to compete with the man currently buried between your legs. No pleasure you'd given yourself since was a patch on this, and you felt that burning feeling in your stomach starting to rise. "I'm close... Mm... Fuck I'm close..." Your words barely a whisper but he heard them, pushing harder with his tongue as a finger entered you, hooking upwards to find that spot inside, the one you didn't think actually existed, but there it was.. you bucked against his mouth, coming hard and fast - you felt your liquids gush over his chin, there was no stopping them... "Aha... Oh god Jim... Fuck... Stop, it's too much..." He smiled, blowing another warm breath over you before moving back to your mouth. You could taste yourself on his lips, turning you on even more.

Flipping him onto his back, you lifted his clothes off him and kissed down his chest. Your core needed a breather before you took him inside you. Licking the top of his now rock hard cock, you slowly sank your lips down, taking him fully inside your mouth. You'd never had a strong gag reflex, and you enjoyed the feeling of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"Holy fuck... Jesus y/n... That's it baby..." Up and down your head bobbed, swapping between hard and light sucks, your teeth gently scraping the underside of his cock and your fingers lightly playing with his balls underneath you. Every time you felt them tighten, you'd ease off, allowing him to catch his breath, before bringing him into your mouth again. After a few near explosions, he couldn't take anymore and lifted you off motioning for you to sit on him. "Ride me y/n..." You smiled, and sank your pussy onto him, allowing him to fill you. Slowly so as to adjust to his length, your hips moved, back and forth, up and down, finding the right rhythm for you both. He sat up, chests together and his hands under your thighs as he rotated his hips from underneath, driving his cock against that magical spot again.

"Yes... God that feels good... Jim..."

"I'm not gonna last long y/n..."

"That's okay.. we've got plenty of time to make up for this... Cum in me, give me all of you..." You felt his cock twitch inside you as he moved your hips faster. Leaning back, you rode him hard, the bed frame squeaking underneath as you both cried out, your climaxes arriving simultaneously. Coming back to rest your head against his, you clenched your core once more causing him to gasp as you drew yourself off him slowly. Lay down next to each other, he pulled you into his arms.

"Did you mean what you said?" He asked, kissing your head gently. "Plenty of time?"

"I meant it, Jim... I need to get back to London to sort a few things, put my flat up for sale.. my job... But yes. If you'll have us, we'll come back.." you looked into his eyes. He lifted your head to kiss you and you felt it. All the love you thought you'd never find, in the man you thought you'd never find it with.

Everything was going to be fine, you couldn't wait to start your life over again, this time for the last time.

@margoo0 @queenshelby @peakyscillian @cloudofdisney @ntmynouis @being-worthy

[dingdongitsbees]

BLACK-EYED SUSAN | LEVI X READER HUNGER GAMES AU

Chapter 13: Rinse and Repeat

Previous - Next

Tw: PTSD, implied suicidal ideation, alcoholism

WC: 5.4k Ao3 link Ask to be added to the taglist! It will be updated weekly on Saturdays

First person version can be found here

Master List

“Nothing ever ends poetically. It ends and we turn it into poetry. All that blood was never once beautiful, it was always just red.” – Kait Rokowski

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It had been a few years since your world had gotten simultaneously a million times better and also gone to shit. It hadn’t really hit you two until you had spent a few days back in the homes that had been provided for you. You each had your own house as per usual for victors, but you didn’t need a second. You had spent your life together in a borderline shack, it would feel weird to have the other sleep across the street. But it had been in that gifted house that it finally came crashing down.

All you could see was their faces, all you could feel was that knife in your hand, all you could hear was that goddamn canon. You were sitting on a velvet couch paid for in blood. Now having more than enough food on the table was exchanged for lives. Being able to still exist in the world meant twenty-two people had been ripped from the world.

Levi had been next to you, so he just held you, his shoulders shuddering just as bad as yours, and you cried. You just cried. There’s nothing you can do or say or think to make anything like that better. Only time can help, and to be honest it isn’t very good at its job.

The trip to each district took what was left out of you two. Combined you had killed tributes of five districts out of the other eleven. Almost fucking half. Most of their families just glared at you on their platforms as their child’s face was displayed behind them as you recited propaganda scripts.

District Ten was hard for you. They had surprised you to be honest, neither of Sasha’s nor Connie’s family looked at you with any disdain. All you could feel was pity radiating off of them, especially from Sasha’s father. She told you how he had taught her how to shoot, you almost deviated off script to say how you learnt vicariously through his daughter, how kind she and funny she was.

Connie’s siblings hurt to look at. They looked at you with such big eyes. They should have hated you, they really fucking should have. Their brother died in one of the most horrific ways possible yet they stared at you as if you were one of their sisters. The normal people in front of the stage only copied their looks, none of them hated you for taking away two souls. It didn’t make any fucking sense. It would have been better if they had just heckled you. Just yelled at you and screamed at you, taking the brunt of their words was the least you could do for exchanging your life for one their own.

District Eleven wasn’t so kind to Levi. Kaya’s family looked like they were two seconds from breaking on to the main stage and choking him to death right there. He might have let them. Niccolo’s family was confusing. There was obviously no forgiveness for how Levi killed their son, a wild animal in a spree of rage, but they didn’t look angry. Levi had told you he had just said a few words over Niccolo before coming back, maybe those words were enough remorse for them to not want his head on a spike.

However, the civilians in the crowd didn’t agree. They had to be restrained from climbing up, yelling threats and taunts, about how he could kill a little girl without a second glance, how he took pleasure in killing Niccolo. Levi kept his head down, his undercut blinding his view, but his hand shook in yours. You did the speech on behalf of the both of you.

The districts from Nine to Five didn’t give two shits about you, maybe only some had mild curiosity. Their glazed-over eyes just stared, clearly bored as you were from the fuckery spilling from your lips. Some of the families glared only because their child wasn’t standing up there instead of you, but you couldn’t blame them for that.

One was…weird to say the least. Neither of you had many interactions with either Annie or Bertolt, but you two lead them to their deaths. Levi may have killed Annie directly but Bertolt’s murder was just cruel, you knew that, but you had thrown that rock anyway. Both of their families just looked devoid of any emotion, the crowd didn’t seem to care, that’s One for you, but their parents just looked empty. The speech went smoothly.

Three was strange as well, you never met nor saw their girl, but Falco you certainly had, but you also hadn’t killed him, in reality your relationship him was positive. They didn’t seem to hate you, quite the opposite really, they seemed to be happy you were there. Three was no stranger to careers betraying and killing their tributes so they were probably just happy Reiner didn’t win and it had been because of your own hands. Still, it was strange. Falco’s older brother, the one you had seen in the reaping recording, had looked on the brink of tears but he stayed strong, his back straight and head up high. They probably wouldn’t have looked at you the same if Falco had gone with you. Someone would have needed to kill him at some point anyway, it just so happened it wasn’t you.

Two was painful. Instead of two separate families standing on their respective platforms it was just one. There was confliction in their eyes for sure, you were surprised they could even stand to be around each other, their sister or bother’s son killing their child. But they stood together. Staring at you with a mix of hate and affection. Levi had to do the speech that time.

Four was hard once again, but only because of one person, specifically Marcel’s younger brother. He flew daggers from his eyes, pure fury ran through his veins. He probably would have killed you both if he had the chance, probably would have been good at it too. You could only begin to imagine the anger he had stored up since you had sliced his brother’s throat.

You recognised him in the reaping for the next game.

He used his anger well.

At the end of the trip you had to go to the Capitol once again for the Presidents party. You nearly preferred the arena.

Floch was sweating buckets under Zeke’s gaze the entire time and drank himself into a stupor, avoiding you both at every turn which you were glad for. People reached for you like you were statues, brushing your hair and clothes and bodies like you were pets. Nick was the only thing stopping you from cursing everyone in the vicinity, Levi came close. Zeke watched from his balcony, eyes narrowed and sipping on champagne waiting for one of you to misstep so he could order a bullet into your heads.

When you got home you two didn’t know what to do. You both fucked around for a year, bought anything that caught your eyes at the hub no matter if it was an ugly piece of pottery or a toy. You bought a lot of liquor too and drank most in one go. The burning in your throats let you forget the inferno in your brains. A small price to pay for some peace and quiet between neurons.

You two were rarely sober for the first few months. You’d wake up and have whiskey for breakfast, you’d walk around town, maybe sneak through the fence, and have some gin, and if it was a particularly bad day you’d opt for tequila as your bedtime stories.

People in the streets knew to leave you alone, just to let you wallow a bit, they hadn’t seen many victors, but they could guess that starting up conversations with people on the knife’s edge was a good way to get punched. Hannes talked to you two occasionally, usually at the hub, cheering your bottles with his flask. He didn’t ask about the game, he saw enough anyway, he just pretended you were those troublemaker kids you had been when you left.

It was Hanji of all people that got you out of it, though she wasn’t one to talk when it came to the number of empty bottles in your living room, but she at least cut the number down a bit or swapped out the drinks for something weaker much to your slurred complaints.

The months after that were hard, letting the built-up trauma hit you like a train. You both started getting nightmares.

One of you would wake up already screaming or crying or be entirely frozen still and unable to move as their body quaked. The other would hold on to them until their tremors ceased and their breath evened again. Then you’d just rinse and repeat the next night.

Rinse and repeat.

Flinch at a raised voice, go numb at the sight of blood, start hyperventilating when you were sure you had seen another tribute in the crowd.

Try not to let yourself die.

Rinse and repeat.

Then the next game came around. You both offered to go as mentors, to let Hanji take a backseat from the role after her isolating years, she came to make sure you didn’t say something stupid, but she just got to hang around without much of a care.

The two kids that you got weren’t good. You knew the second that their names were called that they were goners. Wouldn’t make it in the bloodbath, and even if they ran, they probably wouldn’t live past the first day. You learnt to push their names away. It didn’t help any to hang on to them.

The kids weren’t dumb, they knew that too.

There was a little bit of hope when they looked at you however, a hope that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Porco had sliced both of their throats open within the first minute. Porco won the title of victor in only three days with a kill count of eight. They never had a chance.

You think that was the last time you cried.

When mentors go to the Capitol and watch the feed, they sit in a room together connected to an ongoing party that never stops until the games do, infested with sponsors and government officials. Only mentors are allowed in that room, not even titan servants. You just needed a room to be in to be able to grieve only with people that understood.

They always looked after the new mentors, it didn’t matter the districts or even if their tribute killed yours, they’d hold you, get you a glass of water or usually something stronger, just let you get everything out and topped up makeup on your red rimmed eyes before you got ambushed by press outside the door. Sometimes the career districts were prickly, but only the ones that truly cared about the kids became mentors anyway, so they weren’t ones to give you shit.

It just sort of numbed you after that. You’re not sure if you could even remember all the kids you sent to their deaths. No, you definitely couldn’t, and you didn’t plan to.

Without fail every year they always got killed in the bloodbath, and every year without fail you’d drill into them to just run away, but they just wouldn’t listen, or the careers just didn’t let them leave. You both spent most of your time in the Capitol just flicking off the tops of third bottles and taking quiet bets on who was going to win or who’d kill who. Levi was always right.

It was actually Erwin’s idea to do something back at Twelve, to find something to pour yourselves into. So, after the 70th Hunger Games you went back and pushed your ludicrous amount of money to builders to create an orphanage. The one on your side of Twelve was shit and didn’t have the funding nor space, it was the reason you two had never gone to it yourselves, so you gave them some of your load too so they could get food on the table for once.

Kids started trickling in, you didn’t run the place yourselves, you didn’t have the emotional range to do something like that anymore and you’d probably do more harm than good as their caretakers, they didn’t need a pair of fucked up twenty-year-olds to lead them through life. But you visited, making sure everything was up to scratch and there was no complaints or concerns from the kids about the people you had employed or the quality of their beds and food or if they needed some more toys to play with.

Levi always made sure the place was meticulous, and it was kinda funny how he used cleaning as his way to bond with the kids. They always complained but they never said no when he asked for their help. You helped kids with schoolwork and funded whatever type of skill they wanted to learn.

“You wanna paint? Here’s an easel and some paints from the Capitol that my designer friend sent over.”

It was hard to smile but at least you could help them to.

One day, when you two had dropped in to visit before you went to stock up on vodka, a boy came up to you with big emerald eyes, with a black-haired girl trailing after him. He asked a question that got everyone surrounding you looking up from their sandwiches.

“Can you teach us how to fight?”

And so you did. Twelve had always been at a disadvantage, nothing in your district aided you for the Games, the closet you’d had was learning about mines and explosions or having the physical strength to lift a pickaxe but that was only available when you worked in the mineshafts at eighteen, the last year qualifying for the reaping, and eighteen-years-olds were never picked.

So usually any kid that went in was utterly fucked.

Unless you tried changing that.

You started small. Learning how to throw a proper punch or kick, things you had learnt on the streets stirring up trouble. How to balance yourself in a proper stance so a gust of wind or a shove from a career wouldn’t send you stumbling.

You taught them the things you learnt in the Capitol and in the training room; what foods were safe, how to set a trap, how to treat a wound, how to conduct an interview, how to form an alliance, who to avoid.

It was a long time before you held a blade again.

They had begged you for months to just teach them how to knife fight, but the idea still shook you. You hadn’t held a throwing knife in your hand for years, but it still melded uncomfortably comfortable into your palm. You could still throw it and hit it dead on centre. You knew if the throw was hard enough to go through someone’s skull. You knew how long it would take for their body to hit the ground if it were a clean shot, and how long it would take if it wasn’t. You knew how many milliseconds it would take for the canon to fire.

Picking up a knife again, only if to teach, was a torturous process, but you didn’t let them know that. You would just drink a little more that night.

“Eren keep your arms up! Try and copy Mikasa’s form!” you barked.

They all stood in a line, throwing knives into hay bales, some making it, most missing. Mikasa was unsurprisingly the former, Eren was unsurprisingly the latter. The two were always the hardest at work though it seemed it was usually driven by Eren’s ambition. The kid wasn’t gifted with natural talent but he was stubborn enough to try and make up for it. They had come to the orphanage after Mikasa’s parents were murdered over some debt they couldn’t pay and Eren lost his mum to a mine explosion and then his father caught something bad from his own patient.

It was always them begging you (well Eren at least, Mikasa would just ask nicely) for more lessons and whatever advice they could squeeze out of you. It frightened you a little, Eren’s enthusiasm, you had seen that face before.

It was an unspoken truth that they were your favourites of the bunch, the others didn’t take offence to it, it was just those two were always coming up to you two whenever they got the chance, though you were scared it was because they reminded you of an overconfident kid and the one trying to take care of them. You tried to pretend you didn’t see Gabi and Falco when you looked at them.

“I’m trying but my arm’s starting to feel heavy!” Eren said, not even bothering to turn his head.

“You brats don’t have time to get tired when you’re in there so just get used to it,” Levi replied.

He walked behind them, arms crossed as he analysed each of them, you tried not to make a joke that Eren and Mikasa were taller than him now. He muttered out tips to those who needed it, and compliments to those who deserved it, you had tried to get him to coddle them just a little bit but then he said overestimating yourself just gets your killed and you couldn’t say anything to that. When he got to the end of the line of kids, he wandered back over to you and you gave a crooked smile.

He bumped his shoulder into yours before turning around and standing next to you, you both falling into your usual silence as you just watched.

“There’s more of them than usual,” Levi noted and you nodded absentmindedly.

“It’s today, it makes them nervous.”

“Zeke never picks them though.”

That was true, when you had first started up the orphanage, you had expected Zeke to jump at the opportunity, there was no way he wasn’t privy to your every movement let alone something that required legal documents to be signed, so how he hadn’t rigged the reaping to pull one of your kids was honestly getting a little unnerving.

But each year a pair of kids were picked that you didn’t recognise, and you’d breathe a sigh of relief; it’s much easier to forget strangers.

You realised that the games were rigged at the 71st games, you had noticed that all the slips of paper you could see, even though they were folded in half, would all start with the same letter, it peeking out, and then the name called out would match. You asked Hanji afterwards, cause there was no way she hadn’t noticed, and she just laughed in your face.

“It’s a show, of course they choose their cast.”

You leant your head on his shoulder as you watched, he leant his head too. His arms untangled themselves from each other and he let one fall, letting his pinkie interlock with your waiting one. You both still being there was a constant surprise and an unspoken threat, because someday, when Zeke got tired, or you did something to piss him off, that fact might not be so true anymore.

But Levi’s there now, maybe not tomorrow, but today at least, and you could only hope that the trend remained.

“Cut it out dude!”

You both whipped your heads around, finding two kids wrestling on the ground. They panted as they tried to get the advantage, dust billowing around them as the other kids stared. Neither of you could be bothered to move. Eventually one straddled the other, pinning him to the dirt.

Levi’s pinkie tightened.

The boy on the ground whined while the other grinned in victory before joining his empty hands together and sending them down onto the boy’s chest.

Levi stiffened beneath you and alarm bells blared in your head.

The boy started pretending to stab him.

“Die! Die! Die!”

The kids around them laughed.

The boy beneath told him to stop.

Levi’s breath shortened.

You were at the kids in a second, pulling them off one another.

“That’s enough.”

They went silent, the boys looking down to the ground in shame, though they didn’t know why you were trying so hard not to glare.

“Time to pack up anyway, you guys need to get ready for the reaping,” you said, you were just greeted with whinges, “Put the knives in the tub you lot. Now.”

They instantly shut up, knowing that tone of yours was not to be messed with under any circumstances. They all shuffled off, throwing the knives in, you always counted them all in case one of them took one, but they were good kids.

Levi nodded at them as they filed back inside the building, jaw still tight. As soon as they were all gone, Eren and Mikasa waving goodbye at the end of the line, you sprinted back over, running your hands through his hair as you brought his face to your shoulder.

“Shh it’s okay it’s okay.”

A shudder whipped through him.

You kissed his temple. “You’re not in the arena, you’re in Twelve. I’m not about to die and neither are you. No one is dying and no one is going to. Just breathe, just focus on my voice and breathe.”

Eventually he stilled again, air flowing through his lungs like normal. It didn’t happen as much anymore, but it still happened. It probably didn’t help that he was about to meet two dead kids.

“Let’s go home, yeah?”

He nodded into your shoulder before finally raising his head, sliding over his façade again. You two of all people had to be the strong ones today, you couldn’t show fear, you weren’t allowed to anymore.

The walk home was silent, most people were inside or rushing home to get ready. You dropped past the hub quickly and you bought some bottles from your usual, Levi didn’t say a word, just stared into space. You passed the town square, the camera crews were nearly all set up, the barriers were getting placed. Hannes was testing the mic on the stage, he sent you a nod that you sent back.

The Victor’s village was always weird to see, after passing smog polluted houses with windows that are barely transparent anymore with walls that are starting to tilt, you come to a pristine gate. The separation pissed you off like it was saying you were better than them, but Nick would have your head if you even suggested taking it down. The houses were beautiful too. Maybe it was just an average house for a Capitol citizen, maybe a little nicer, but it looked like a goddamn king’s estate compared to everywhere else in Twelve.

People would say you deserved it, to have a nice home. It made you want to puke.

You could see Hanji through her window, lounging on a couch, bottle of whiskey in hand. Seemed like a plan.

You squeezed Levi’s hand as you unlocked the door and led him inside. You shed your jackets and shoes and put away your bottles, leaving one out. You glanced to him, he was still sort of out of it, he needed quietness, maybe a bath. Yeah a bath would do, those always calmed him down.

You trekked up the stairs, on the landing you let yourself take a little run up and slide across the wooden floorboards on your socks towards the bathroom door. Silly shit helped sometimes.

You reached out and grabbed the handle and turned it, pushing forward on the door. It let out an ungodly and far too familiar screech.

You gasped and slammed your back into the wall.

Fuck.

Your breath was getting quicker, not letting your lungs get enough oxygen before taking another gulp.

Fuck fuck fuck.

You crouched down, elbows on your knees as you pressed your palms into your eyes at a sad attempt to get your brain to stop.

You could only see him, or in more exact terms, you could only see his melted remains.

Fuck.

Rapid thumps came from the stairwell, you didn’t look up as arms enveloped you.

You let out a shaky breath. “I’m fine.”

He didn’t say anything, just kissed your head before holding you tighter. Your need to talk to communicate was even less than it used to be ever since the Games. There were things you two didn’t need to speak about, you just acted on, knowing exactly what to do.

Though there were moments you didn’t want to talk about, and you didn’t plan to talk about them either. He didn’t mention finding you sobbing on the bathroom floor surrounded by spilled sleeping pills and you didn’t mention waking up alone in bed and finding him completely out of it on the roof of the orphanage. You didn’t talk about it, but you held each other a little tighter just as you did both of those nights.

“I’ll get some oil for it when we get back,” Levi whispered.

You nodded into his chest.

“Bath?” he asked.

You nodded again.

.

Warm water has magical powers you swore, it really shouldn’t be able to make someone feel so good, to be able to relax and almost drift away forgetting about the possibility of drowning. What a lame way to go out, though it was much nicer than the ways you’d seen.

You laid on Levi’s chest as the water rippled around your little movements. He played with your pruned fingers, touching the fingertips with his own like it was an interactive museum exhibit. You watched, fascinated by his fascination, blinking slowly as the bath bled out all of your stress.

Moments like that were nice, but it had to be broken today. You couldn’t stay in that warm heaven forever, though it was quite tempting, you wouldn’t exactly be missing out on the adventure of a lifetime.

.

You ruffled the towel through your hair as you sipped the vodka. The burn and taste were barely noticeable, even the effect had begun to wear off or maybe you had just gotten better at being under the influence.

“Catch.”

You threw the bottle to Levi on the couch who caught it without a second glance, immediately taking a few gulps of it himself.

“Hello you two.”

You both looked to the door, sending tight smiles to your usual guest, though to be honest your home was hers and hers was yours at that point.

She walked behind Levi’s couch and took the bottle that he already had extended to her, taking a gulp before placing it on a side table.

“Ready to send children to die?”

.

The reaping went as usual. Hanji welcomed everyone to the 74th Hunger Games, two kids got reaped, one fifteen-year-old and one thirteen-year-old, you couldn’t remember which was which. You waited in the train, neither of them came up to talk to you and just ate up all the food they could before passing out on the nicest bed they would ever sleep in. You didn’t bother them, one look and you knew they were a lost cause.

The process went on.

Neither were that charismatic, they were only memorable because they were last and that was pushing it as is. They both got low scores, a four and a six. The thirteen-year-old cried himself to sleep the night before, or he might have, you wouldn’t know, you slept through it.

That morning you went up to the roof with them, got in the mentor’s hovercraft and just twiddled your thumbs, wondering who was going to win that year or what the arena was going to look like. You went in, sitting in the back of a cart, going through the maze of corridors beneath the grand stage, not bothering to focus in your eyes to see your surroundings. It was just grey walls anyway.

You yawned when you got to the centre, scratching the back of your neck as you tried to find your tributes amongst all of the shaking teenagers.

A finger tapped you on the shoulder. You spun around to see the girl from…Seven? She grinned, her eyes crinkling.

“I just wanted to say I think you’re really cool, I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

You blinked.

“Oh, is that so? Good luck then I guess.”

She smiled even wider before running off with a wave. You dragged a hand over your face before heading over to your tribute waiting for you.

It was a forest arena, nothing too special.

The games had long since started when you got back to main city of the Capitol and went into the sponsor party, both of you immediately beelined for the mentor room. You watched as replays showed one getting killed in the bloodbath the other getting hunted down by none other than the careers. You just stared at their slow-mo screaming faces and sighed.

You didn’t cry, you didn’t even blink. You did the first time but after that it’s just been shut away. Thankfully there was no new mentors that year, you didn’t have to deal with sobbing messes. You were too exhausted to care for someone anymore. Compassion doesn’t come cheap.

The mentor room was filled with pain as always, most were just trying to unlearn two names as quickly as possible, drowning their neurons in liquor so they could pretend that two faces weren’t burnt into their brains. It won’t be enough, it never is. You knew that too now.

Some of the others in the room weren’t mentors but they were victors all the same, having just grabbed a free trip to the Capitol so they could bum off some high-class booze. Couldn’t blame them. They were lucky though, the other districts, having more than three victors meant they had the option of just staying home and just ignoring the screen. They didn’t have to know the kids.

You two spent the rest of your time in silence, going back up to the penthouse to sleep before coming back, hoping the whole ordeal would be over soon.

The girl that talked to you before it started, a girl from Eight you had learned, was still alive though, and you couldn’t help but cheer for her a little bit. She started an alliance with a girl from Six, both doing well against the attempted threats on their lives by the careers. Soon they had made it to the last few with only a few scratches to show the world, much better than your leg to say the least. It still ached every once in a while.

But you were still surprised when her little duo alliance were the last ones left. Their mentors were on the edges of their seats, hands covering their noses and mouths like a prayer, eyes glued to the screen.

Then the girl from Eight did something fucking stupid, something that made everyone’s breath hitch around the country.

She brought out some poisonous berries. They had killed a career with them, not needing to get into a fight, but then they held grenades in the form of blueberries in their blood-stained hands.

They brought it to their mouths as the room cursed in unison, people rose from their seats, you could hear people yelling outside the door. They both hesitated for a second as they counted down but plopped them in their mouths anyway.

Two canons fired in quick succession.

The transmission was as silent as the room. No one knew what to do. You stared at the screen with two dead kids. There wasn’t going to be a victor. There wasn’t going to be a victor because they copied you.

“I really admire what you and Levi did in your games.”

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The room slowly turned to you two as your heart hammered in your chest, Levi’s hand fumbled for yours.

You were fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

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.

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a/n: sorry this chapter was late! this was mainly just summary but we’ll really get into it next chapter

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[stonecoldjerseyfox]

Jersey on my mind (part 46)

The room is blurry and dull, smells of old booze bottles, unwashed dishes, something musty and urine. A creeping, crawling sense of discomfort rushes along his spine, a familiar feeling. He knows this place. The rundown furniture, the squeaking wood boards on the floor and the punch holes in the walls. Why’s he here again? He’s been back in this rathole more often lately than he has in years. This time however it seems empty. No one’s home. Thank fuckin’ god for that! But there’s something wrong. Except for the foul stench of alcoholism and dirt, he can smell something else. Smoke. He moves into the adjacent room, the kitchen, that’s licked by flames. The dancing fire laughs at him. He can’t stay here, it’s dangerous. He turns around, but the door’s gone. Then he sees something in the corner of his eye. A woman, scarred by alcoholism, abuse and misery. She’s devoured by flames, dressed in a stained pink bathrobe and the skinny legs are spotted with bruises. 

“Why don’t you do something you piece of shit?” She cries out with a raspy ‘2 packs a day’-voice. The eyes are just hollow holes in her head and she starts to decay, turning into a burning, dead corpse. “You can’t save ‘em, D. You hear me?! You can’t fuckin’ save ‘em you lil’ shit.”

Before he has time to answer, to shout that she should shut her fucking mouth, Daryl opens his eyes. He’s sitting straight up in the bed, heart pounding frantically in his chest. The almost fully drawn curtains let in some light, indicating that it’s morning. The sunlight reflects the dust that softly swirls around the air, undisturbed and floating like jellyfishes in a calm sea. It was a dream. He swallows hard and breathes deeply, trying to calm his mind. It was just a fucking nightmare. He’s in their bedroom in Alexandria and Mila’s asleep next to him. No fire, no burning bitch in a bathrobe. Daryl sinks back into the pillow and pulls the sleeping woman lying next to him in the bed closer; his missus. The woman who he found out a week ago carries a child, his child. Tenderly he places his hand on her belly. If he hadn’t seen the two red lines on the test he’d never believed that there was something growing inside of her. It feels just as usual, as it always has; skin soft as the fuzzy skin of a peach, bumpy where the scar after the machete is and the muscles and fat. At least once a day he’s taken the plastic testing-stick, carefully placed in a zip bag, from the drawer in the bedroom and looked at it; trying to wrap his head around it all. He’s going to be a dad. 

It struck him as they walked through the woods back to Alexandria from the drugstore; it was such an intense, dizzying realization that he had to stop and embrace her. The sun had burst forth and looked down among the foliage on them. They stood like that, entangled in each other in the silent glade, taking the revelation in and it was beautiful - damn beautiful! 

Since then Daryl has experienced a whole new palette of emotions; naively he was sure he couldn’t possibly discover more, to him new, sentiments than he had since he met Mila, but holy hell he was wrong on that one! 

With this new arsenal of feelings came the nightmares. He was hurled back to his childhood and the shack he and his brother called home until it burned to the ground. He was little again, scared and alone in the world. His mom, who neglected both him and Merle unless she was shouting at them. His old man was his usual self in the dreams; drunk. Daryl could’ve probably counted the times that bastard had been sober on one hand, and gave him hell. Other times the drunk mean bastard reshaped and Daryl realized that he had turned into that mean drunk himself. A faceless, small person in denim dungarees, hauntingly similar to Juri, sat in a corner of a dark room and shivered with fear, unable to speak. Then there was Mila who either died or took off with the faceless boy and a small bundle, leaving him alone and unable to go after them in that burning shack. That’s when he usually awoke, heart pounding and clinging to the covers, desperately seeking after Mila in the dark. As soon as he felt her presence next to him in the bed, asleep and unaware of his terrible ordeals, he laid down and tried to fall back to sleep. Sometimes it succeeded, sometimes he had to get up and make sure Juri was asleep and well, not curled up in the corner of his room crying. 

A few nights ago he’d been awoken, and saved, from his dreams by Juri who stood by the side of the bed and wanted to get up to them in the big bed. The boy fell asleep on his arm in the matter of minutes and Daryl was calmed by his sleeping breaths and faint snores; Juri’s a snorer and Mila breathes heavily while sleeping, sounds that lulls Daryl to sleep, makes him feel calm.

They’re alone in bed this morning. Juri’s in his own bed. Daryl continues to caress her soft skin with the tip of his fingers, up and down to where he touches the edge of her panties. When are they going to tell the others? What’s protocol? He’s completely clueless on the matter. Will they have to find out for themselves when her belly’s too big to ignore, or will Mila make a formal statement on the porch in front of everyone? He’s got a hunch she won’t make a big deal out of it, not more than a resolute mentioning; it’s the way she is, the way they are. After all, they pretty much got married out in the street underneath a magnificent starlit sky, but in the street nevertheless. How big or small the revelation will be, it will certainly cause commotion; Carol will throw a party, make a big dinner with dessert and someone’s gonna pull off a speech. A striking feeling of pride hits Daryl; not in a million years he’d thought life would turn out like this. A life worth living. It’s all good. Great! He draws a circle around her bellybutton and drags the scent of her hair deep down into his lungs; fuck he loves her like crazy. A new day of the rest of their life has dawned. It’s all too much and he squeezes her tighter. 

“If you hug harder I’ll break.” 

The voice is soft, a bit harsh after eight hours of sleep. 

“Thought ya’ slept.” Daryl places a soft kiss on her ear.

“I am sleeping.” Mila replies, in a voice that tells him she’s smiling. “It’s very, very cozy.” She sighs. “You dreamt again.”

“Hm?” He lifts his head slightly. Fuck, she noticed? “Yeah. It’s nothing.”

“Bad dream?” She asks. “You squirmed and swore.”

“Sorry.” Daryl kisses her bare shoulder.

“You alright?” She nudges her butt closer to his crotch.

“Fine.” He replies. It’s true, he is. “It’s fine.”

Mila leaves it there. Instead, she escapes a contented sigh.

“Are we alone?”

“For now.” Daryl replies.

Once more she nudges her ass against his naked crotch, making his morning hard-on wide awake. 

“Then we’ll be alone for a while.” She groans. “Malenkiy won’t awake in an hour or two. Or we just lock the door.”

What she’s implying is pretty clear, especially when she’s pressing up against him like that. He digs his face into her neck and hair, holds her tight; she’s dainty in between his arms, smells divine and is so soft. Smoothly, while their mouths find each other, she slips out of her panties. They pause their kissing so he can remove her tank top, exposing her breasts, then hook his arm around her neck, to hold her even closer to his flushed body. Her hand finds its way underneath the covers, cradles his full blown hard-on and squeezes it at its core.

“Fuck-” Daryl grunts as half of the blood in his body rushes down between his legs.

He feels the edges of Mila’s mouth go upwards in a delighted grin into his arm.  

“Touch me.” She purrs softly. 

A wish she does not have to repeat; he caresses her stomach, further down between her legs and spreads them slightly, enough for him to feel that she’s already soaking wet; what the heck did she dream about? Must’ve been fuckin’ sweet.

“Ya’ dreamt nice?”

No answer, just an ecstatic grin as he softly starts to touch her; he has a pretty good idea what it means and it makes him blush; damn it’s hot. Damn unbelievable even; she dreams of him.

“You want the details?” 

I can’t handle that, Daryl thinks to himself in mild panic. 

“How ‘bout ya’ show me?” 

“Already doing it.” Mila whimpers and bites her lower lip as his fingertips lightly sweep over her clitoris; it’s an amazing little spot Daryl thinks to himself in awe, turning the hotheaded, lethal woman into water between his fingers. 

He smiles as she arches her back in delight as he continues to fondle her, making her even wetter, putting pressure on her clit and rubbing it a little harder; a move leading to her dig her face into his arm, giving it a soft but firm bite, to prevent herself from letting out a gushing moan, awaking everyone at the upper floor.

“Oh god- yes- Daryl.”

As to prevent herself from reaching her peak directly, she rolls over on her stomach, grabs the pillow and stacks it underneath her hips. This is new; unlike him, Mila is experienced in the field and knows exactly how she wants it, she uses her words, expresses exactly how good he makes her feel, knows how to move to turn him fucking insane and a whole new palette of positions and tricks. He has a pretty good grasp of how the animals do their business; not that it’s something to brag about, but Mila’s carnal knowledge extends beyond the basic breeding positions of frogs and shit. Seeing her magnificent curves, the ass stacked up like that makes him have all sorts of ideas, and it’s pretty obvious she wants him to ‘hop on’. An ounce of uncertainty, fear, comes over him; what if he breaks something? He’s too big, too heavy. The fear turns into pulsating desire when she, almost impatiently, jiggles her hips; it isn’t the first time he’s been on top of her like this, pushing her into the mattress while she hungrily clings to him to get even closer, deeper, until he hits her core. It’s the pillow-part that’s new, and the fact that she’s pregnant that makes him worried to pin her down and fuck her brains out, roughly speaking. But the look she gives him over her bare shoulder says it all; ‘you’ll like it, a lot’. Screw it, he thinks, while spreading her legs, kneeling between them and letting himself enjoy the view for a few seconds; she knows what she’s doing, right?

“Ya’ sure ‘bout this?”

“Might as well enjoy being on my belly while I can. In a couple of months this will be fucking impossible.” Mila grins. 

Yeah, the mere thought of the future that lies ahead of them is as dizzying as it is wonderful, and also arousing. No, focus! Daryl returns to the present; there’s no time to lose. Steadfastly he strokes his thumb between her wet folds, sees it slip in between the soft pair of lips, causing Mila to close her eyes and press her face into the pillow to suffocate a whimper; his limb throbs violently against his stomach and he’s really close to loose control and release instantly. He bites the bullet, struggles against the body to not let go that easily. He would’ve learned by now, but she’s making it so damn hard for him to control himself. Just as he thinks it’s all fine and dandy, she moans.  

“Just- oh fuck, get inside me.”

Gosh he loves when she pleads; when the bodily desire overflows in her verbally begging for him to enter her body. As always she won’t have to ask twice, he’s all hers. Daryl lowers his body onto hers, takes in how her body feels beneath his, their skin pressed together. How soft her breast feels under his hand as he squeezes it, how hard her nipple is as his palm brushes it. She holds her breath as he rolls it between his thumb and forefinger, while with the other hand rubs the head of his cock against her. With ease he slips inside her, grounds his throbbing limb along her walls; she lets out a groan of pleasure, whimpers as his balls squashed up against her clit as he buries himself to the hilt, growling in her ear. 

“Oh fu- yesss!”

For fuck sake, never stop being this verbal during sex, Daryl pleads to Mila inside his head; its heavenly. Slowly he starts to thrusts into her, speeds up the pace to somewhere between slow and moderate; he reaches down and pushes her clit up against his cock, rubbing it as he slides in and out of her. Yup, the pillow-trick is fucking magnificent! Their panting breaths become as one when Daryl rests his scruffy cheek against hers, desperately wanting to hear her mouth create these delightful sounds of lust while being as close to her as possible. 

“I love ya’, fuck I love ya’-”

Can’t say it enough many times; it’s darn true as well. Christ he’s mad about her and damn right the mother of his kid’s going to get to know that each and every fucking day. His panting declaration of love, while speeding up the pace, takes them over the edge, to where they’re reached a tipping point. He both feels and hears it. Mila’s warm body melts underneath him, while Daryl feels a rush of strength throughout his. She’s on the verge, wrapped in that blissful, torturous, purgatory that seems like it will never end. He feels her entire body teetering on the edge, feels her start to tense as she holds her breath and her vagina clench around him as the waves of pleasure rolls over her; that moment of uncontrollable weakness before waves of relief surge through the body. Daryl has entered an equally primal state, a state in which his instincts demand him to give her all of him, every ounce of effort he can possibly muster to make sure they’re relieved of this purgatory. Guided only by instinct and desire they move in symbiosis, until the dam breaks. As she feels that he’s as close to the verge as she is, she tightens around him, aching to feel him cum. Through the hair that’s fallen into his eyes, while groaning into her hot neck, Daryl sees Mila bite her lip; fuck. A torrent of pleasure rolls over them like a tidal wave. He buries his hips deep into her as he, with a primal growl, mixed with a sigh of relief and ecstasy as Mila reaches climax, releases himself at her core, giving them both what they so desperately need. Overcome, they collapsed onto the bed in a pile gasping for air, still affected by the hell of an orgasm they caused one another.

“I love you too, moya lyubov.” 

Daryl wraps his arms around her waist and rolls her over at the side; he avoids pulling out to prevent getting the sheets all wet and cradles her from behind, just as they laid before. He’ll get them both to the shower later, somehow. That’s a later problem. Right now, this is how he wants it to be for a few minutes; lying close together, stroking her belly. What a mighty fine start on another great day. 

“How big is it?” He murmurs into her hair and softly taps his index finger right above her belly button.

“Not bigger than a bean I’d imagine.” Mila replies. “I didn’t do one of those fancy expensive tests, so it didn’t tell how many weeks it’s been. Maybe six, eight, or nine.” She turns her head slightly, so their noses are pressed up against one another. “You’re going on a run today?”

“Dunno. Maybe. Why?”

“I’ll go with you. I want stuff to get my mind off booze; I’ve been thirsty for a few days now and I’ll need something else to obsess over the next nine months. Pickles, olives...”

“I’ll see what I can get ma’ hands on.” He kisses her on the tip of the nose. “I ain’t takin’ ya’ with me though, Jersey.”

“Ass.” 

Wonder if beans are ticklish after six to nine weeks, Daryl thinks as he puts a finger in her side. Mila squirms and laughs, tries to wrestle herself out of his grip. To prevent an accident, he manages to keep her in his grip and tumble both of them out of the bed without falling over.

“Let’s wash up, Jersey.” He murmurs while half leading, half lifting her into the adjacent bathroom, naked and still, impressively enough, almost entirely inside of her. “Or else there’s gonna be a mess on the floor.”

[vivianweasley]

Rapunzel (Fred Weasley X Ravenclaw!Reader)

A/N: This is for @wand3ringr0s3‘s 1.9K writing challenge and the prompt is I See The Light from Tangled!

Summary: Fred is always there for you. No matter if it’s your birthday, or if you’re just having a sleepless night.

Pairing: Fred Weasley X Ravenclaw!fem!Reader

Warnings: insomnia (Fred comforting reader!), post-war trauma, mention of war

Word count: 1.8K

(Disclaimer: I do not own the gif)

Today’s your 18th birthday. Even though the atmosphere of the school was pretty intense with Umbridge in charge, you still had a pretty good birthday. Your friends threw you a little birthday party.

Everyone wished you Happy Birthday. Well, everyone except for one.

After the Weasley twins left the school, you’ve never heard from them since. You guys were good friends and you really missed them. Especially Fred. 

Even George sent you a letter wishing you happy birthday, along with some samples of their new products, but Fred never showed up. Did he forget about your birthday? Or did he just forget about you?

You weren’t sure when did your stupid little crush on Fred Weasley began. Maybe it was when he stood up for you when Umbridge was going to punish you. Maybe it was when he made you laugh when you were crying because you got a bad grade in potions. Or maybe it was long before all of this.

How you became friends with Fred was a funny story. It was two years ago, you were just on your way back to your common room, but suddenly you tripped. You dropped all of your books and the potion project that you spent the entire last week working on. Watching the potion bottle scattered into pieces, your heart broke with it. You looked up and saw a boy with ginger hair gasped and soon escaped.

You recognized that was Fred Weasley. You two shared a few classes together and you hated to admit it, but he and his twin always had their way to capture your attention. How could they not? They always had so many strange ideas that never failed to intrigue you.

The next day, you successfully cornered him in the hallway. “Weasley! Why the hell did you trip me! I worked on that project for an entire week!”

He was surprised that someone suddenly cornered him, but he still had that cheeky smile, “Oh I think you got the wrong twin. I’m pretty sure it was George. I’ll go find him for you-”

“Oh I’m sorry. I must’ve made a mistake then.”

“It’s alright, people mix us up all the time.” He smiled and soon tried to escape you again. But just when he started walking, he tripped.You waved your wand and tied his shoelaces when he was still busy trying to come up with some excuses and alibi. 

You walked in front of him and gave him a triumphant grin, “This is for my potion project. I know who you are, Fred Weasley.”

And then you just hopped away, leaving him still lying on the floor and that funnily, was the beginning of your friendship.

He was intrigued by your mind and your ideas just as how you were intrigued by his. You would always get him and George out of trouble just like how you could get them into trouble if you wanted to.

You felt ridiculous always checking the clock and fighting back the urge to check the owlery every other hour. If Fred couldn’t give you a birthday gift, maybe at least he could send you a letter?

Maybe his owl got lost. You knew the Weasley’s owl was a little silly. 

Or maybe he already forgot about you. He’s got a business and everything, who would have time for you?

The clock in your room finally stuck 12. It was officially not your birthday anymore and he never showed up.

You fell on your pillow and your mind drifted to last year’s birthday. The twins dragged you to the shrieking shack, telling you that they need your help for a grand prank. You opened the door and found Ginny and the twins actually prepared a surprise party for you. But this year, you only had Ginny.

A knock on the window beside you brought you back from your memory. You got off your bed and walked to the window, gripping your wand tight for you didn’t know what might happen.

But when you opened the window, the scene successfully put a smile on your face. Enchanted little pebbles were flying up to knock on your window. Along with the pebbles, there was also a little note that read “Oi Rapunzel, let down your hair!” You knew that carefree handwriting way too well. It was Fred’s.

You flipped the note and the back of it read “meet you at the door”. You chuckled as the butterflies in your stomach started to dance.

As soon as you rushed downstairs, you heard someone arguing with the door knocker, “Seriously, why are you so stubborn? If a serial killer is chasing after a student and that student just couldn’t answer your stupid riddles, are you just gonna let that student die? This doesn’t make any sense!”

You giggled and opened the door to see Fred with his cheeks flushed and still panting. You guessed that he must have ran upstairs just now.

“Oh thank Merlin! Y/N!”

“How did you get into Hogwarts?”

“Hmmm, my determination to be here for you on your birthday has made me unstoppable?”

Your heart fluttered at his cheesy answer, but you still kept a straight face, “Yet, you are still late.”

But instead of Fred’s explanation, you heard the portrait on the wall complaining first, “So do you want to get in or out? You can’t just stand here with the door open!” 

“Come!” Fred smiled at you and dragged you out of the common room.

“Where are you taking me!”

He brought you all the way to the astronomy tower. Thankfully, you guys didn’t run into Mr. Filch because Fred already knew the route too well.

You two sat down by the window. The weather was good tonight. The sky was clear and you could see the stars twinkling above. The chilly midnight breeze made the astrological instruments sing. You haven’t felt so peaceful in a while.

“Happy birthday Y/N.” Fred broke the silence first. He pulled out a bracelet from his pocket and placed it around your wrist. “I’m sorry I was late, but your present took me longer than I thought to make.”

“What is this Freddie?”

“Lumos.” He waved his wand and the bracelet lit up. Your eyes lit up too when you saw the bracelet on his wrist started to glow as well. “In case you missed the laughter and fun in your life, by that I mean, in case if you missed me, you can light up the bracelet and I will know.”

You stared at him, finding yourself speechless. A warm and tingling feeling started to rise in your heart and spread through your whole body.

“Don’t fall in love with me.” He laughed cheekily when he realized you were staring at him.

You looked at him and saw the light reflecting in his eyes. For a moment, it was as if your world has lit up, yet everything was in slow-motion.

Too late. That was the first thought that popped into your head

---

You woke up from the exploding and screaming in your nightmare. It was already three in the morning.

Nightmares and sudden palpitations were common problems that people who have been through the battle face and you weren’t an exception. You glanced at the calendar on your nightstand and felt slightly relieved when you made sure it was already a year after the war. Everything was fine. You were safe now.

You lied back and tried to sleep again, but the brutal scenes of the battle just refused to leave your head. After struggling for fifteen minutes, you finally gave up and got off bed.

You turned on all the lights in your room just to feel a little bit more secure, but the room was just so empty. You were craving for company. You missed Fred. You needed him.

You and Fred got together during the war, finally admitting that you couldn’t afford to lose each other. If the war left anything good in your life. There was that.

You wanted to see Fred, to talk to him, to hug him. You wanted to just apparate into his apartment right now. But you knew he was busy and had to wake up early tomorrow morning. Even though Fred told you that you could always go find him when you need him, but you just didn’t want to add to his burden. You knew it was your anxiety and insecurity lying to you, saying that you were a burden, but you just felt too exhausted tonight to shut them up.

So after debating in your head and listing out all the pros and cons, you decided to just light that bracelet. If you couldn’t cuddle him right now, at least the light from the bracelet could make you feel like he was right here with you.

Sleeping was probably not an option anymore tonight, so you decided to read a good book to distract yourself. But fifteen minutes later, you realized you were just staring at the pages without even reading the words. So you started to pace around in your apartment, trying to focus on all the corners that you didn’t pay attention to before.

Just when you were about to check that vase on your bookshelf for the third time tonight, you heard a knocking on your window. You immediately ran to the window, knowing too well what that meant. 

A little note with “Rapunzel, let down your hair” written on it flew into your hand when you opened the window.

“Darling, are you alright?” You turned and saw Fred has already apparated into your apartment. “I’m sorry I’m a little late, the bracelet went under my pillow-” 

His ramble was cut short when you rushed to hug him. He chuckled and lifted you up to carry you back to your bedroom. He placed you on the bed and tucked you in before joining you

You felt like you could finally breathe calmly as you were now secure in his embrace. You just felt so lucky to have him and a random question popped into your head.

“Freddie, when did you realize that you like me?”

“Hmm probably that day when you tied my shoelaces. I thought Merlin, this woman is going to be trouble.”

“Thank you very much,” you lightly pushed his arm to protest.

“I have a question for you too,” suddenly, he looked at you seriously, “how were you able to tell me and George apart at first?”

“Well, you are slightly taller than George and George’s voice is deeper than yours.” You simply listed out your observations.

“But these are all relative. That day when you tied my shoelaces, there was only me.”

“Or maybe it’s just cause I’m smart?”

He squeezed your waist at your cheeky answer and you squeezed his waist back. 

“It’s your eyes,” you finally admitted, “George’s eyes are soft, but your eyes are bright. It’s like my whole world has lit up when I see the light in your eyes.”

He looked at you with his eyes widened. You giggled when you saw his expression, “What? Are you feeling touched? Don’t fall too deeply in love with me.”

He squeezed your waist again. But when you were about to attack him back, he pulled you closer and pressed a kiss on your forehead.

“Too late, darling. Already did.”

[lamesiscanon]

Darker Things

I have finished my fic for @goodboylupin  ‘s candy hearts fest!!! My prompt was “sunshine” and somehow that turned into a hurt/comfort fic. Oops. The song lyrics and title are from “Darker Things” by Lily Kershaw, and it fits Wolfstar perfectly, I think.

Read on AO3

I worry about you at night 'Cause when the moon comes out all your demons come to life And you say you hate the way your mind makes you feel about All the things that hurt in your life, I feel you now, I can feel you

 It wasn't a surprise that Sirius eventually finds Remus in the astronomy tower. The place is - as deemed by James - Remus' sulking place. And there he is, sitting on the edge of the stone, swinging his legs over empty air and puffing on a rolled joint.

Remus doesn't say anything as Sirius approaches, joining him at the edge of the tower so they can dangle their feet together, fifty meters above ground. Sirius is expecting Remus to yell, or snap at him with those passive aggressive comments that Remus is so good at giving out when he's in a mood. He braces himself for Remus to tell him to go away and leave him alone or finally shout about why Remus was so absent today.

Instead, Sirius is pleasantly shocked to find that Remus prefers to wrap their hands together instead, reaching behind to intertwine their fingers from where their hands lay supporting their bodies on the stone. It's a step in the right direction, though Sirius is still insecure about the way Remus keeps his face turned toward the sky rather than looking at him.

Now he sits in quiet, looking at Remus' profile as he gazes up at the nearly full moon. On such a night, they're able to see the grounds clearly. Sirius watches as a couple of seventh years sneak through the snow to the edge of the forbidden forest with bags that he guesses are full of clinking glass bottles. They can even see Hagrid walking fang around his hut. Bathed in the light of la luna, Hogwarts looks so peaceful. It'd be beautiful, Sirius thinks, if the moon didn't cause Remus so much pain.

More silence stretches between them, though it's not uncomfortable. It never is between the two of them, growing up in the same room for the past five years and getting to know each other on late nights spent in one or the other's bed sharing snacks given to them by the friendly house elves in the kitchen. They know each other well enough to understand that quiet can be just as conversive as talking sometimes. Except now, Sirius wonders whether or not Remus' silence is a punishment. Or maybe Remus is just waiting to get his words together before he yells.

A gust of cold February air breaches Remus' warming charm, reminding Sirius of the bundle of clothing clutched in his free hand. 

"I brought your cloak." He informs the other boy, holding it up. Remus doesn't look away from the moon, but he does let go of Sirius' hand and allow Sirius to tie it around his shoulders for him. Lycanthropy doesn't often allow for Remus to get cold, but he seems to accept the warmth as Sirius finishes tying it together. 

"There." Sirius states, pulling away to admire the little bow. Instead of thanking him, Remus finally looks away from the sky and leans down to rest his nose against Sirius' cheek. They breathe the same air for a moment, enjoying the closeness of their faces before Remus takes the opportunity to bring their mouths together. Sirius gasps, always surprised by how good it is to kiss Remus. 

He's still a bit confused about Remus' behavior as he allows himself to melt against his lips. Sirius had gone through the day thinking Remus was mad at him, the only explanation he could come up with when Remus avoided him in all of their classes that day, or ignored him during breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Sirius came to the tower expecting to apologize, not to be kissed like nothing had happened. 

The weight of a hand on his waist brings Sirius back to his senses and he rests his forearms on Remus' shoulders to pull away for a minute.

"I thought you were mad at me?" Sirius pants, looking up at the boy next to him. 

Remus squinted down at him as he gently shook his head and brought his free hand up to cup Sirius' jaw. "I'm not mad at you."

"But..." Sirius is confused, and so is Remus based on the look he's giving him. "I thought you were going to yell at me."

"Have I ever yelled at you?"

No. Sirius doesn't even have to think about it, all of the times his and James' immature experiments and pranks turned against Remus' favor. All the times Remus was roped into a prank or caught out of bed after hours in which the Marauders received detention and lost house points. Remus never yelled, just made sure he'd turn Sirius' hair pink or charm James' clothes to scream when he got sweaty, all in the name of friendly revenge that they would laugh about once it was all said and done.

Remus has never, and most likely will never, yell at Sirius and he feels silly ever thinking he would. Remus is not like his parents. 

With that thought, an entire day's weight of worry and panic melts out of Sirius' body as he leans in for another kiss. Remus smiles into it when he notices the tension in his shoulders fall away. Sirius smiles when he pulls back, holding eye contact as he grabs Remus' left hand that holds the joint between two fingers and brings it to his own mouth, inhaling and blowing the smoke out without looking away from Remus. The moment becomes charged then, gold staring at silver and neither daring to be the one who breaks it. 

Sirius knows what he looks like when he looks at Remus. There's so much love and adoration on his face that James pretends to puke whenever he catches him at it. Sirius sees that same look reflected back at him in Remus' own face. 

This time, however, mixed in with the love and sappy fondness is Sirius' underlying worry. He tries to hide it, but he's sure Remus can see the unspoken Are you okay? and What can I do to help? and Merlin, I worry about you on nights like this because I hate the fucking moon and the way it makes you feel, just by looking at Sirius' eyes. Remus knows how to read him like a book.

Whatever Remus is able to interpret from the look goes unanswered as he breaks eye contact to finish the joint by himself, and Sirius sighs as he leans against him, resting his head resting on Remus' shoulder and watching him exhale the smoke.

If Remus is going to ignore the blatant worry on Sirius' face, then Sirius will have to go for a more direct approach. He was mad about the way Remus didn't talk to him during the meals despite Sirius' attempts to engage him. He was annoyed at Remus for ignoring him during class and the way he pretended to pay attention to the lesson rather than acknowledge anything Sirius said. But now, he just worries.

"What happened today, Rem?" Sirius whispers once Remus has extinguished the end of the burning blunt. The body against him tenses, and stays that way for a long time until Sirius leans away to look at him again. 

Remus keeps his gaze towards the moon, like he did when Sirius first arrived at the tower expecting Remus to be angry. He still doesn't know what Remus is feeling. 

"I'm sorry about the way I acted today." Remus whispers back, avoiding the full question and confrontation altogether. 

Sirius huffs, thinking it'd be better if he weren't even there at the moment. Remus has a hard time talking about things that bother him no matter how hard Sirius is working to get Remus out of that habit. Maybe Remus will talk more if he doesn't feel pressured by Sirius being there. Maybe he just needs somebody to listen, without the worry that they'll interrupt him.

A large black dog takes Sirius' place in a blur of motion and moves to curl into Remus' lap. Large hands immediately tangle themselves within the fur and start petting up and down the dog's back. 

Padfoot has his back turned to the moon now, but he sees the glow reflected in Remus' eyes as the boy smiles down at him. The silence that falls over them this time feels less tense than earlier. Remus relaxed now as he looks up to stare at the grounds while Padfoot stares up at him, enjoying the unconscious movements of Remus petting him. Now he just has to wait for Remus to talk. Whenever he's ready. 

Between the hurt of mornings spent in the shack after full moons and nights when Remus has his own nightmares, Sirius has come to find out that Padfoot really is a good therapy animal and it's easier for Remus to talk to him as a dog than it is to talk to him as his boyfriend. Sure, it can be frustrating at times, but Sirius will continue to do whatever it takes to help Remus. 

"It hurts, Sears." Remus finally speaks, breaking the silence. Padfoot's ears perk up at Remus' nickname for him, but he's having a hard time processing the other words while he's in dog form. He tries to pay attention as Remus lets out a heavy sigh and they watch the hot breath blow away in the cold wind. "The moon just hurts so much, sometimes." 

Padfoot nudges his nose into Remus' thigh, a gesture of comfort and encouragement to keep talking. 

"It's like it can still control my body even when it's not full. Today it just- it fucking- it hurt. It hurt and I was in pain and I-"

The hands on his fur still and Padfoot realizes there is something wet that keeps hitting the back of his neck. Remus is crying. 

"And I like it. The wolf part of me loved the pain I was in and my mind kept telling me to embrace it, enjoy it. And I got scared. I didn't want to be close to you or James and Peter today because I felt so disgusted with myself." 

Padfoot pulls himself up to where he can lick at Remus' jaw, slightly wet with tears, and the hands on his back resume their petting. 

"I hate the way my mind makes me feel sometimes, Pads. Everything just hurts and I hate how dark it can get in here and I don't ever want you to see me that way." Remus closes his eyes and points to his temple for emphasis. "It's like constant rain and hail and I'm fucking terrified of showing you how dark my mind can ge-"

The dog is licking at Remus' face until he turns back into a teenage boy again, straddling Remus' lap and cutting him off with a hard kiss on his mouth. Remus cries against him and grasps his waist tight. His palms spread against his hips and slide against Sirius' back, holding him like he's worried Sirius will fall off the tower at any minute. 

"Please don't cry, my dear." Sirius breaks away with tears of his own, stroking Remus' cheek with the pad of his thumb. In Sirius' mind, Remus deserves the whole world. Remus is the warmest and brightest thing, reminding him of those early blue hours of summer mornings where you have so much love and excitement for the day ahead. He reminds Sirius of warm cuddles near the fire and the smell of wet forest in the fall. And it hurts to see how the moon can make a boy so warm feel so cold. 

Sirius' heart breaks as Remus continues to quietly cry against him, burying his face into the crook of Sirius' neck. Sirius runs a calming hand through his curls and gently shushes him. 

"I won't let it always be like that." Sirius promises, thinking about the war Remus has with himself and the wolf. "I swear to Merlin, Remus. I'm going to do whatever it takes to make sure you see sunshine poke through the weather in your head." 

Remus pulls his face away from his neck and kisses him again though this time, he's smiling against Sirius' lips. 

"You're all I need."

Remus peppers kisses on Sirius' chin, nose, cheekbones, and forehead. "My sun." kiss. "My star." kiss.

Sirius calms him, kisses him, and loves him there in that tower. For now, the moon hangs nearly full in the sky it's nothing compared to how the brightest star holds him so close. 

  I worry about you in the light of day 'Cause you don't know who you are when all your demons go away And you say you hate the way your mind makes you feel about All the darker things in your life, I feel you now, I can feel you

  Remus finds him without the help of the map. All he had to do was follow the smell of smoke. 

There's a tiny pile of cigarette butts next to Sirius' feet where he stands under the Gryffindor quidditch stands, staring between the cracks in the boards. Remus vanishes the litter pile as he joins him, taking a look for himself at what's behind the boards of the stands and sees the Slytherin quidditch team running drills and there, floating a little higher than the rest and wearing the Seeker's uniform, is Regulus. 

"This isn't my idea of the most ideal spot to give yourself lung cancer." Remus says, rocking from heel to toe to emphasize the way the brown grass under his feet squelches from melted snow. Sirius huffs in response, flicking the finished cigarette onto the ground and pulling out another. Remus wishes he hadn't vanished the butts from earlier so he knows how many Sirius has had. 

He doesn't need to ask why his boyfriend is hiding to watch his brother practice quidditch. Remus is well aware of how Sirius woke them up just before dawn that morning, screaming for Regulus and begging his parents not to hurt him. Remus had been the one to wake Sirius up, getting hit by flailing limbs as Sirius fought against the people in his dream. He was the one who cast a silencio on the curtains of Sirius' bed while he cried and listened to Remus assuring him that Reg was safe in the Slytherin dorms, sleeping peacefully. 

This has been the same drill ever since they were eleven years old.

When Sirius wakes up from nightmares, he's terrified and confused and will likely spend the rest of the day feeling the same way. He's outside of himself in the way that his head is still stuck at Grimmauld Place while his body sits in classes and stares absently out the windows. When teachers yell at him for not paying attention, Sirius startles back to reality with a look that suggests he'd forgotten where he was for a second. 

Gone is the boy who laughs at all of James and Peter's jokes, or flirts with Remus every chance he gets. That boy was replaced by a haunted kid who still has to worry that he hasn't quite escaped his parents. And Remus has to watch Sirius go through days where he acts like he doesn't know who he is anymore. Days that make Sirius desperate to see his brother smiling just to reassure himself that they're safe for the time they're at school. 

"He looks happy." Remus says, watching Regulus and his team dive at each other and laughing when they get too close. 

Sirius grabs his hand then, squeezes it twice and then drops it to start walking away from the quidditch stands. Remus follows him, offering silent companionship as they walk together back to the castle. Dinner will be soon, though Remus doesn't think Sirius will want to go. They'll probably spend the night wrapped around each other in Remus' bed, talking about James' failed dating life or anything else that will distract Sirius.

It's a surprise when Sirius steps closer and allows Remus to put his arm around his shoulders. Sirius isn't often physically affectionate after he's had his nightmares. They make it to the empty dorm to find a note signed by Peter that he and James are serving a detention for McGonagall after dinner, and if they come back to see Sirius and Remus shagging (again) then they'll be kicked out of the room. 

Usually a note like that would have Sirius giggling madly, instantly inspired to try and seduce Remus, which would inevitably work since Remus was so, so weak for his boyfriend who is so fucking pretty. 

Except this time, Sirius barely spares a second glance at the note before he tosses it into the bin and walks over to his trunk to look for pajama bottoms. Remus watches him from across the room, already sitting on his bed in a simple grey shirt and pants. Sirius moves mechanically, like everything he does is based purely on muscle memory while his mind is far away from Gryffindor tower. 

Remus sighs, pushing himself to stand up and walks to Sirius' trunk. His favorite pair of bottoms are sitting on top of everything else though they're going ignored while Sirius absently sorts through clothes, not paying attention to anything he's actually doing. 

"Sears." Remus whispers, grabbing the pants and gently guiding Sirius to stand up away from the trunk. His eyes look different. They aren't as bright as Remus is used to seeing. They're glossed over and unfocused, looking off behind Remus' shoulder. Remus cups Sirius' jaw in his hand and leans in for a quick kiss, then leans away to watch Sirius' focus come back. 

"There you are." Remus smiles, and thankfully Sirius smiles back, albeit a bit tightly. He takes the pajamas from Remus and changes into them right there in the middle of the room. 

Sirius takes Remus' hand in his own once again to kiss the palm, then he guides them over to the four poster Remus has been sleeping in since first year, sometimes shared with Sirius.

Remus tucks him against his side and spells the lights to go out so they can watch the sky change colors as the sun sets outside the window. Remus takes comfort in the way he can feel Sirius' chest rising and falling against him. 

"I hate them." Sirius whispers as the final ray of sun falls behind the mountains.

"I know." Remus says, because he's always felt the same way about Sirius' parents.

"They suck."

"They really do." 

"I hate that I miss them sometimes." 

Oh. 

Remus really wasn't expecting that. Sirius Black, a boy haunted by more demons than most people will ever experience in their lives (and refuses to talk about it) just opened up to Remus about the darkest parts of his mind. And Remus has no idea what to say. 

"Oh." 

Remus regrets saying it before it even comes out of his mouth. He feels Sirius' muscles tense against the palm of his hand that was rubbing the other boy's back and finds himself wishing that a time rewinding spell existed. 

"That's okay, Sears." Remus says in an attempt to fix it. "They were your family, it's okay that you... might miss what could have been." 

Sirius immediately relaxes under him and Remus is able to let out a quiet breath of relief. His hand resumes stroking up and down Sirius' side, offering whatever sort of comfort he can. 

"Part of me thinks it's not." Sirius says after a few moments of silence. "Part of me hates that I could let myself get so hurt about the people who wanted me dead when they should have loved me no matter the fucking circumstances."

Remus thinks about his own parents and how they've been the textbook definition of unconditional love over the years. When he was bitten, Hope and Lyall researched everything they could about how to keep Remus and others safe during transformations. They tried their best to make transformations as good as they were able just to make Remus' life a little easier. When he told them he's dating his best friend, a boy, they told him to bring Sirius home during the summer so they could properly meet him. Then they hugged him until he stopped crying. 

His experience was the polar opposite of Sirius'. Walburga and Orion Black are the most disgusting people on the planet, in Remus' opinion. They threatened and harassed their own son with howlers just for breaking family tradition when he was sorted into Gryffindor. Sirius was tortured and abused just for the friends he has, never mind how happy they make him. His parents don't care about their son's happiness; they care more about the blood status and wealth of teenagers who had no say in the way they grew up. 

If Sirius' parents are so evil to cast a crucio on him just for having muggle items in his room, then neither Sirius or Remus are so naïve to think that coming out to them would be a good idea. Walburga insists that her son is going through a phase of teenage rebellion and he will eventually grow up to see how despicable his taste in friends is. Orion is hell bent on marrying Sirius off to a respectable pureblooded girl as soon as he's old enough. If Sirius were to tell them about his and Remus' relationship... he wouldn't make it out alive. 

The difference in their families is a cruel trick of fate. 

"You deserve so much more than those monsters." Remus can't help the tear that rolls down his cheek. 

"I forget that sometimes. When I remember all the things they've screamed at me over the years and every ugly word they've written to me, I forget that they're the ones in the wrong. Not me.

"Every minute I spent trapped in that house were the darkest moments of my life. And I still can't escape it. I still can't escape my parents, because every time I fall asleep they come to hurt me more. Then when I see you, or James, or Peter get a letter from your parents I find myself wishing that I had that. I start missing what kind of mum and dad I could have had."

It's quiet for a while after that. Remus is desperately trying to keep himself from crying, though he knows Sirius can feel the tightness in his chest as he tries to stop the silent tears from coming. Sirius Black is the most important person in Remus' life, and he just wishes that he could give this boy everything. Whatever it takes to see Sirius' pain go away.

Remus tilts his head to the side so he can press his lips against the top of Sirius' head and hold them there for a minute. He wants to give Sirius the world, but for now he'll start by being the rock. 

"I fucking hate that my sick and twisted mind takes the darker things that've happened in my life and makes me miss them in some sinister way. I guess my parents thought that if they couldn't have the son they wanted, then they'd ruin the one they already had. And they succeeded."

And that's it. Remus has Sirius pinned under him in mere seconds, gripping his shoulders to ground himself. 

He expects to see confusion, surprise, concern, anger, anything on Sirius' face. But there's only emptiness. 

"Please don't talk about the love of my life like that." Remus begs over a broken voice. "You are worth so much more than your family's stupid fucking reputation and wealth. You always have and forever will be the most amazing person I've ever met. I can see the promise of everything you have to offer in your smile alone, Sirius. I'm not going to let them take that away from you. The world would be lost without it."

The wall breaks, and Sirius' dam of apathy falls away to the flood of grief he's kept buried inside of him for so long. Remus falls to Sirius' lap as he pulls him up to a sitting position. Remus hugs him as hard as Sirius is hugging back. He starts to sway them side to side, like Hope would do for Remus after a moon. Luckily it has the same calming affect on Sirius, like it did for him as a kid.

"What helps you when you feel like this?" Remus asks, because he's going to hold onto the answer and use it forever if it will help Sirius. 

Sirius pulls away from Remus' chest and wipes his eyes with his shirt. A half-hearted laugh comes out of his mouth as he looks up at Remus the same way Remus is looking down at him. Love. Adoration. James told him once that they look at each other the exact same way.

"You. You help me. The sunshine to break through the storm. Remember, Moony?"

Remus does remember. It was only a few weeks ago when Sirius promised to be the one who would pull Remus out of his own head. And Remus will promise to do the same. Always.

 Don't cry my one We've only got so much time under the sun Don't cry my dear We've only got so much time here

[chickensarentcheap]

Never Gonna Be Alone- Chapter 46

Title: Not Broken, Just Bent

Warnings: mention of suicidal thoughts, profanity, angst

Tagging: @c-a-v-a-l-r-y, @alievans007, @innerpaperexpertcloud, @tragiclyhip, @miss-smutty​

“I appreciate this,” Tyler says, as he and Desi work side by side in the front foyer; assisting the three littles with the zippers on their coats and the laces on their boots.

He’d called the neighbour on a whim; desperate for even the smallest bit of help. He’s never been one to just reach out to others; long drilled into him that only a pathetic and weak man needs a helping hand. But if the first nightmare in Dhaka had taught him anything, it’s that even the biggest and strongest need someone to lean on from time to time; his body and his spirit so broken that he’d required assistance with even the most basic and simplest of everyday living skills. Esme stepping up to the plate and never once complaining about the energy it depleted her of or the time it took out of her own schedule; never making him feel as if he were a burden. Accompanying -and chauffeuring, as both his physical limitations and pain medications made it impossible for him to function to that extent- him to doctors visits and physiotherapy sessions and counselling appointments with addiction specialists. Always wanting her right there with him even when the most difficult of subjects were broached or intense physical exercises caused excruciating pain. Her quiet presence and all of the patience and resilience inhabiting that tiny body both a source of strength and a tremendous comfort. Accompanied by the tender touch of her hands as they massaged his shoulders or rubbed his back or her fingertips cleared wayward strands of hair from his forehead and out of his eyes. Voice soft and soothing even during the moments where frustration and pain had him raging; a palm on the back of his neck and her nose pressed against his temple as she encouraged him to ‘just breathe’ and reminded him of how far he’d already come and how he was proving all of the doctors and the naysayers wrong.

Six years later she’d find herself back in that situation again; his babies growing and thriving inside her as she once more took on the role of his caretaker. Having to lend assistance with even the mundane things most people take for granted; helping him to the bathroom when the pain was too intense to make it even when the aid of crutches or a walker, keeping a well organized and attentively followed medication schedule, feeding him when the tremors in his hands -a side effect of the meds- made it impossible for him to even hold a fork or spoon. Giving him showers or sponge baths or washing his hair in the kitchen sink and trimming both his hair and his beard. And she’d willingly learned more intensive care as well; wound irrigation and cleaning and how to switch out the IV and medication bags when an infection in the lower back had forced him onto powerful antibiotics. She’d been overwhelmed and exhausted but had never shown it; never losing her patience or her temper with him and never reacting when his own -triggered by pain and frustration and vulnerability- kicked off.

Months of her constant presence, reassurance and steadfast care had opened his eyes to who his wife TRULY is; an incredibly strong and resilient woman that has been through hell and back -a number of times- but never lets the situation break her. Always positive and upbeat; gracing him with smiles or ruffles of his hair or kisses to his cheek and words of praise and encouragement. It had given him a new appreciation and respect for her; how easy she made it look while caring for him and keeping a home running and taking care of his children. Even now he remains in awe of her; the amount of determination and love that can exist in someone so small. And if it taught them both anything, it’s that they truly ARE a team; relying on one another in many different ways. What could have destroyed other couples only served to make them stronger. That foundation built upon a unique and powerful bond and formed through a complicated and dangerous situation never crumbling; holding them up with everything around them seemed to want to break them down. Everything became more solid; their marriage, their roles are parents, their friendship. And they’ve discovered they loved each other even more than they ever realized; a love so complete and whole and all consuming.

Now it’s his turn; shove all of his issues and his demons and monsters aside to take care of her. It’s the one thing he’s always been both good at, and consistent with; shelving all of his problems in order to focus on hers. It’s two fold. A chance to show her just how loved and appreciated and adored she actually is; a way of proving just how grateful he is for everything she’s done -for him AND their family- throughout the past twelve and a half years. And it keeps both his body and his mind busy; making her his number priority an effective way to battle back against his demons. But He realizes he can’t do it alone; the old adage of ‘it takes a village’ proving true. Seven kids in the house means a lot of noise and a lot of activity. Not the ideal setting and atmosphere for someone that is both mentally AND physically exhausted.

While Desi had been the obvious choice on who to seek out, it had taken Tyler nearly a half an hour to convince himself to make the call; feeling guilty for yet again turning to their neighbour to lend a hand. It’s primarily an ego issue; feeling like ‘less of a man’ for not only needing help, but outwardly admitting it and lowering his guard enough to ask for it. Esme would blame it on the toxic masculinity that still lingers deep inside; the ghost of his father telling him he should be dealing everything on his own and that not being able to is a sign of both cowardice and weakness. It remains a struggle at times; breaking away from that train of thought and reminding himself that everything his old man had taught him -or attempted to- had been unhealthy and toxic and nothing but complete bullshit. And Desi is like family; always stepping up when either of them have needed him. A loyal confidant and steadfast supporter, he’d easily and effortlessly blended with large broods; enjoying the time spent under their crazy and chaotic roof and giving the kids the kind of uncle they deserve. And while it normally takes Tyler months or even years to trust someone when it comes to his personal life and the safety and the well being of his family, with Desi it has come fairly easily. That laid back and enormously generous personality and the gentle and compassionate way he treats Esme and the kids had triggered Tyler’s instincts. Letting him know that the man was trustworthy and reliable and in no way a threat.

“Anytime,” Desi says, as he finishes with the laces on Takota’s boots and turns to help Brooklyn, allowing her to attempt the tying and only stepping in which she gets frustrated and gives up. “You know I’m here for you guys. Always.”

Tyler slips a purple and pink knitted beanie onto Addie’s head. “Seem to rely on you an awful lot.”

“It’s what friends do, right? Help each other out when they need it. They step up. Lend a hand. No one can go through life alone. No one.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to tell me that thirteen years ago. I was pretty sure that’s how I’d live out the rest of my life. And die.”

“Were you happy though? Living like that? All by your lonesome? Out there in the middle of nowhere?”

“I had company.”

“A dog and a chicken are NOT company,” Desi informs him. “Not by a long shot.”

“Dogs are man’s best friend, aren’t they? And it was a pretty smart chicken.”

“You can’t tell me you were happy like that. Living way out there, alone, no one to talk to. No one is happy living like that.”

“In all fairness, ninety percent of the time I was too out of it to be carrying on conversations.”

It feels like a lifetime ago; that rundown shack in the middle of the outback, surrounded by nothing but the sparse trees and dry earth and looming mountain ranges. It had seemed like the perfect place to let his wounds fester and his addictions take hold; no one trying to dictate what he could and couldn’t do, no attempts at trying to talk him into rehab or counselling, far enough out that not even Koen or Rata made it a habit of stopping by unannounced. Out there he’d been surrounded by nothing but emptiness; a perfect match for the gaping hole in his chest where his heart had once been. A punishment of sorts. Nothing but the mistakes of the past and his overwhelming grief and guilt to keep him warm at night. Out there he could let the demons run rampant; drinking himself into oblivion and abusing Oxy at an alarming rate. His last coherent thought before passing out would always be the same; that the substances he’d put in his body would be enough to ensure he didn’t wake up the next day. But he always did; usually coming to in the middle of the warped and dusty floor or sitting at the kitchen table. Surrounded by empty bottles of booze and tipped over vials of pills and crippled by a brutal hangover; the headache and nausea and the dizziness so intense he’d have to crawl to the bathroom.

When it became apparent that the mix of alcohol and painkillers weren’t enough to do the trick, he began taking the most risky and dangerous jobs possible. By that time, he was fully engrossed in his death wish; too chicken to pull the trigger himself so instead relying on someone else to do it for him. Every time he went out, he’d all but pleaded to a higher power that it would be his last. Resorting to begging and pleading with whatever -or whoever- was watching his ass to take break; take their eyes off him or shirk their duties long enough for him to catch a bullet to the head. Yet it never happened. No matter how many times he’d spun that barrel and taken the risk, he always lived to see another day. Which in turn had only made his desperation even more intense; feeding into that grief and the sorrow that threatened to drown him yet never took him right under. That day on the cliff when he’d plunged into the water below, there’d been nothing stopping him from giving up; the weight of his regret and self loathing enough to keep him below the surface and allow his air to slowly run out. He hadn’t been afraid. He’d been ready to die for a long time.

Yet something had told him to keep going. A little voice hanging onto a thread of hope; louder than those attempting to destroy him. And when he’d pulled himself out of the water, he’d found he suddenly felt lighter; as if some of the burdens and past mistakes had temporarily lifted and been replaced by the first shred of contentment he’d experienced in a hell of a long time. Less than forty minutes later, he’d be watching Esme as she climbed up onto his porch. Studying her as she crouched down and showered his dog with attention. Finding himself both curious and intrigued about the unknown, tattooed and pierced dark haired beauty that had suddenly shown up in his life.

“You gotta admit, that kind of existence IS lonely,” Desi says, as he opens the front door and motions for the three littles to step through. “All alone? Out in a place like THAT? I’ve been there, remember. I’ve seen what it’s like. It’s desolate and it’s isolating and…”

“And it’s what I wanted at the time.’

Desi cocks an eyebrow, then steps out onto the front porch. “What you wanted? Or what you thought you deserved?”

A smirk tugs at the corner of Tyler’s mouth, and he stands on the threshold with a palm flat against the door, effectively holding it open. “What seemed right at the time.”

“Were you? Lonely?”

“Never gave it much thought, to be honest. But in all fairness, most of my days were spent drunk and high off my ass, so…”

“You never once wished that you had someone around? Someone to talk to? Spend time with? Get...you know...PERSONAL with.”

“If I wanted that, I could get it. Easily. There was no shortage of that, believe me.”

“You never wanted more than that? I mean, there’s more to life than THAT. What about bonding with someone? Yeah, sex is great, but what about everything else? Companionship. Friendship. Someone to come home to at the end of the day or however long you were gone for some times. Someone that’s just...THERE...you know?”

“I was a fucking mess. Way worse than you could even begin to imagine. Why would I bring someone into that? Why would I do that to someone? Ruin their life like that? They get with me, everything’s great for a while, then they discover just how messed up I am and take off. What would be the point? Bringing someone into that? That’s just wasting their time.”

“Was it about them or you? Not wanting to get involved with someone.”

Arching an eyebrow, Tyler leans against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Seems like maybe you were using all that as excuses. To protect yourself. That maybe you were scared to get too attached. Just in case they DID decide it was too much and run off.”

A slow grin tugs at his lips. “ You’re starting to sound an awful lot like Esme. You’re getting into the psychoanalyzing business too, huh?”

“I’m just saying that maybe it ran deeper than worrying about other peoples’ feelings. Maybe you were worried about your own too.”

“I was dead inside, Des. I wasn’t feeling a damn thing.”

“Except for shame and guilt and regret. And a whole hell of a lot of self loathing.”

“You really ARE spending too much with my wife.”

“I just think it makes sense. You protecting yourself too. But not willing to admit it. At least not out loud. Wouldn’t it have been worth giving it a shot? Finding someone? Seeing if they could put up with everything?”

“I was an alcoholic mercenary with a drug addiction and a death wish. Who would put up with that?”

“Esme, for one.”

“Esme is an entirely different breed all her own. I highly doubt there’s many out there like her. That would willingly hook up with a fucking train wreck and put up with everything I’ve put her through. That I KEEP putting her through.”

“You know, you’re not as bad as you think you are. Do you have some issues? Yeah. But shit, we all do. We’re all a mess. In one way or another. You might be a little messier than most, but…”

“A little? That’s being awfully nice about it.”

“Look, she sticks around, doesn’t she? She’s still here. Twelve and half years later. You really think if things were THAT bad she wouldn’t have hauled ass a long time ago? Didn’t y’all split up for a while?”

“Six months,” Tyler confirms.

“And yet you got back together. She wanted things to work out. Not like she kicked your ass to the curb and hooked up with some other guy. You guys fixed your shit, made things better. She wouldn’t have taken you back if you were that bad. She wouldn’t have put herself or the kids through that.”

“Still a lot for one person to deal with. We’ve been through a lot shit. Way too much, actually.”

“Shit that would have broken weaker people,” Desi points out. “Both of you...separately... are strong as hell. But the two of you together? That’s a force to be reckoned with. And maybe she is a different breed of woman. Maybe it was the way she was raised that made her the way she is. Or the way she WASN’T raised. But let me tell you, she is a tough little thing. Feisty as all hell.”

“Totally a study in contradiction. You see that little body and that cute face and you think she’s all innocent and sweet and the next thing you know…”

“You’re married to her and seven kids?” Desi grins.

“I was going to say the next thing you know, she’s telling you where to go and how to get there and putting you in your place. Totally not what I expected, that’s for sure. Woman that size to be such a challenge. And so fucking bossy. If you heard half the shit that comes out of her mouth…”

“She keeps you on your toes. Challenges you. She’s definitely no push over. Which leads right back to my point. If you were as bad as you think you are, do you really think a woman like her would stick around? Hell no. She’d tell you off and pack her shit and take off. There’s no if’s, end’s, or butt’s about that. You brought that much shit and pain into her life? Things would have never gotten this far.”

“You know, you make a little TOO much sense.”

“I just tell ‘em like I see ‘em. You’re not the massive prick you think you are. Maybe a little bit of one…”

Tyler smirks.

“She showed up right when she was supposed to. That day at your place. Think of all the things in both your pasts that had to go wrong for you two to cross paths. If even just one of things went right, you probably never would have laid eyes on her. And that would have been a damn shame.”

“Yeah,” he nods slowly, considering his friend’s words. “It would have been.”

“The right woman came along at the right time. If your heart and your head didn’t think so, you wouldn’t be where you are now. You wouldn’t have the life you do. Hell, you probably wouldn’t have a life at all.”

“I’d be dead. If Esme hadn’t come along. I don’t doubt that for a second.”

“Daddy!” Addie clomps up the front walk and climbs the porch stairs; abandoning the task of helping her siblings build a messy fort of wet snow. And she wraps both arms around one of his thighs and leans her slight, tiny body into him. “Do we REALLY have to go out?”

“It’s just for a few hours.” He scoops her up into his arms and settles her on his hip. “ Go get some lunch, go see a movie, stop at the candy store. Doesn’t that sound like fun? A day out with Des? You always love your days out with Des.”

“It does sound like fun and I DO love going out with Desi, but…” she curls both arms around his neck and nestles her face against the side of his throat. “...I want to stay with you and mummy. She was gone this morning. And it scared me. That she wasn’t here to do our thing.”

“Well tomorrow you can do your thing. Sometimes OTHER things come up. Can’t help that.”

“And I only got to spend a little bit of time with her because she’s been sleeping a LONG time!”

“She’s only been sleeping an hour. Didn’t you spend some time with her? Didn't you take a bath with her? In the big tub?”

“Yeah, but…”

“I need you to cooperate, okay? Mummy needs some rest. And she can’t really get that with all you guys in the house. Right now, she needs to sleep and when she wakes up, I need to be able to take care of her. And if I’ve got all you guys to take care of, I can’t really do that, can I?”

“Is she sick?”

“She’s a little under the weather.”

“Like a cough due to cold?”

“Nothing like that. She’s just feeling a little rundown. Nothing some quiet time won’t help. So you think you can do me a solid? Go out with a Desi for a bit?”

Addie sighs heavily. “I guess…”

“We’ll have a great time,” Desi promises. “We always do. Mommy and daddy need some time alone. It happens. They’ve got some stuff to take care of.”

Addie reaches for him; allowing herself to pass from one set of arms to another. “Like making a baby?”

“No one is making any babies,” Tyler informs. “Not in this house anyway.”

“Why not?”

“Because our days of making babies are long gone. The shop is closed. All done. That’s it.”

“One more wouldn’t be so bad,” Addie reasons. “Another sister.”

“One more WOULD be bad. And a shock because neither mummy or I can have more babies. Now…” laying a hand on the back of her head, he leans in to press a kiss to the tip of her nose. “....be good. I don’t want any bad reports when Desi gets back.”

“Why you telling me? I’m always good.”

Tyler stares pointedly at his daughter.

“Well, ALMOST always.”

“Remember what I said. No taking off. You stay with Desi. Or with TJ. Got it?”

Addie gives a thumbs up. “Got it!”

“Have fun. And don’t worry about mummy. She’s fine, I’ll take care of her. I promise.”

“You better,” the five year old warns. “‘Cause that’s my mummy and if anything happens to her…”

“Your mummy is in good hands,” Tyler promises. “Daddy knows what he's doing. I’m not some rookie, you know.”

“You be nice to mummy,” Addie orders. “No arguing and no making her cry and no making fun of how tiny she is.”

“You’re kidding me, right? That’s my go to. Making fun of her height.”

“Speaking as a short person, it’s NOT funny. At all.”

“I wonder how funny it will be when I DO pick you and your mum up and put you in my pockets.”

Crossing her arms over her chest, Addie’s eyes narrow as she glares at him.

“Don’t give me that look,” He pecks her pouted lips. “You and your mumma both know everything I say, I say because I love you guys. Can I help it that you’re both so tiny and cute?”

“Can we help it that you’re so big and have humongous feet and ears?” Addie counters.

“Ouch,” Desi chuckles. “Savage.”

“She gets that from her mumma. Little, but so full of rage.” He digs his fingers into his daughter’s side, tickling her until the pout turns into a smile and she begins to giggle. “Do I need to remind you that you got my ears? And my feet? You all do.”

“Poor us,” Addie quips, and then squeals and giggles even louder when he brushes his beard against her cheeks.

“I love you,” he says, and presses a kiss to the freckled bridge of his daughter's nose. “Be good, okay? I’m counting on you here.”

“I got this!” She flashes two thumbs up over Desi’s shoulder as he carries her down the stairs. “See you later, alligator!”

“In a while crocodile,” Tyler responds.

“Blow a kiss, goldfish!”

“Bye-bye butterfly.”

“Toodle-loo kangaroo!”

Tyler shoots her a wink and then steps out onto the front porch. Hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie as he watches Desi herd the noisy and excited and noisy bunch out the front gate and then down the slush covered sidewalk. Waiting until they disappear around the corner before heading back into the house.

*****

The shower feels damn good. Hot enough to sting and to cause a new layer of perspiration to form on his skin; gathering at his temples and along his hairline and above his upper lip. The latter he swipes away with the tip of his tongue and then places his palms flat against the tile; chin tucked into his chest and his eyes closed as the water beats down on his weary body. Physically speaking, he feels great; very little pain or tightness across the small of his back, a dull yet manageable ache in his repaired shoulder, the swelling of his right knee not as not as prominent as it usually is. The latter surprises him. He’d pushed himself extremely hard during his run that morning, greatly exceeding anything he’d ever put himself on the treadmill and far beyond the limits the specialists had put on him after his second surgery. And while he knows he shouldn’t ‘test the waters’ and there’s a legitimate risk of ligament tears and dislocations, he’s never been one to play by the rules. Refusing to let anyone confine him to what’s conventionally acceptable; always wanting to prove not only the naysayers wrong, but his own mind and body. An injury he can deal with; another operation and the recovery afterwards a lot easier to bear then the damage to the ego. His physicality has always been of major importance; strength, size, speed, stamina. And he’s had a hell of a time getting back to even seventy percent of where he’d been five years ago. When Nathan had managed to get the jump on him and achieved what no other foe had ever managed: breaking his body and mind.

He refuses to dwell on it. Nothing he can do will ever erase or lessen what happened; his body forever damaged and his entire lifestyle permanently altered. Physical injuries, mental health issues, the constant toeing of the line between addiction and sobriety. And he knows things could be a lot worse; dying that day on the bridge in Dhaka and never getting his second chance. He’d been given an incredible opportunity; an absolution for the mistakes of the past and a whole new life and a bright and content future. But it hasn’t been without its own share of pain and sacrifice and suffering; every blessing coming at an exceptional cost. Ones he’d happily paid and would do so again; willingly putting his own body and sanity on the line if it means keeping his family safe and sound.

A half an hour passes; hot water tank nearly drained when he finally steps out of the shower. Body still damp when he heads into the bedroom; a towel wrapped loosely around his waist and another being used to vigorously dry his hair. Slivers of light manage to trickle through the gap in the room darkening curtains, and he uses it to his advantage; quietly navigating the spacious master suite. She’s been asleep for more than an hour now; on his side of the bed with the heavy comforter pulled up to her chin and her cheek nestled into his pillow. Normally she would have argued with him; pointing out the list of things that -in her always busy mind- needed to be done before her sister’s arrival. But her ‘meltdown’ earlier had left her emotionally exhausted and she hadn’t kicked up even the slightest bit of fuss when he suggested she take time for herself; a long soak in the tub, her favourite ‘comfort’ clothes, a well deserved nap.

It’s been twelve and a half years of sacrifice and compromise on her part; giving up her old life in favour of a new one with him, adjusting to life in a new country only to have it torn apart and be forced back home, reluctantly agreeing to his return to the job and the worry and the stress that came with it. Five pregnancies that resulted in seven amazing and beautiful children; her physical and mental health paying a steep price each time, yet never denying him the desire for a big family. And the times she’s seen him near death. Horrendous injuries inflicted upon him; those long days and nights by his side in various hospitals and eventually the arduous and painful roads to recovery. Yet she’s done it without complaint; throwing herself into caring for him and their family and consistently putting her own well being on the back burner.

Lowering himself cautiously onto the end of the bed, he once more scrubs at his hair and then tosses the towel in the direction of the laundry hamper; sighing when it misses its mark and falls heavily to the floor. While mentally weary, his body feels great; relieved to be relatively pain free and filled with an uncharacteristic optimism. The silver lining within a very dark and immense cloud. A welcome boost of confidence he hasn’t experienced in years; brave enough to consider that maybe...just maybe...the worst is now behind him. And as he studies his reflection in the mirror atop the dresser, for once he’s not finding all the faults. No anger or disgust when his fingers lightly travel over the myriad of scars that inhabit his face, no thoughts of how battered and worn down he appears. Instead he notices that his eyes seem brighter; not as haunted and empty as they’ve been since his return from Cambodia. His face has filled out; the slight weight gain making the lines that accompany aging -and a hard life lived on the edge- not seem as prominent. His chest and arms are bigger; the slightest of flexes stretching the tattoos that decorate the insides of both biceps and shoulders. The positivity is surprising; years spent living in a state of self loathing and speaking self deprecating words long ago taking their toll and reducing him to a man that didn’t give a shit about his personal appearance. As long as he maintained his strength and his quickness and his skills, that had been all that mattered; not giving a second thought to his choice of attire or the thickness of his beard or the unruliness of his hair.

He’s still not what would be considered high maintenance; the opposite of a Desi who spends more time getting ready than the average female and has closets full of insanely expensive high end clothing. Still the most comfortable in bare feet and board shorts; jeans and a simple t-shirt considered ‘dressing up’ in his world. It’s an effortless existence; relaxed and content and low key. And it’s one the entire family -aside from a very ‘girly’ Addie- has adopted. Happy and secure; tucked away at the end of that dead end street and surrounded by nature and the smells and the sounds of the ocean. Their own slice of paradise; hard work, resilience, and a hell of a lot of money turning what had once been a modest residence into their dream home. It will be their ‘happily after after’; the place where they’ll raise their children, spoil their grandkids, and grow old and grey together. And for once, he’s confident that will happen. That they’ll get those moments Esme often speaks wistfully about. When their home is empty and it’s just the two of them; quiet breakfasts on the back deck and dinners down by the water. When there’s more grey in their hair and wrinkles on their faces, yet they still walk along the beach hand in hand or with their arms wrapped around each other; indulging in their bantering and their teasing and stopping to steal kisses in the surf.

And still giving her piggy back rides back to the house.

He feels the mattress shift slightly, and he watches her reflection through the mirror as she adjusts her position in bed. Rolling over onto her back and stretching languorously; a long, content sigh escaping her lips and the heels of her palms pressing into her eyes. When she props herself onto her elbows and looks at him, her hair is disheveled and her eyes are slightly narrowed; a pout of confusion and disorientation capturing her lips.

“Tyler?”

“Yeah?”

“What time is it?”

“Almost one.”

The pout transforms into a frown. “In the afternoon?”

“No. Morning.”

“Smart ass,” she grumbles, and then flops down onto her back. A foot kicks off the heavy comforter in favour of coming in contact with his back; toes slowly brushing along the top edge of the towel. “What are you doing?”

“I was in the shower. Didn’t get a chance to do it when I got home from my run. With everything that happened and you leaving and having to take care of the kids....” his voice trails off. It’s the last thing he wants to revisit. His panic attack in the kitchen, the way his oldest son had sensed the urgency and the stress and stepped up to the plate to care for his little sister, the worry that his wife either wouldn’t return or would walk through the door and tell him that it was over. That he was just too much for her to bear; a heavy and troublesome burden weighing her down.

“Why’s it so quiet?” she asks, and he’s thankful for the change in conversation. “What happened? Did they get a little too feral? Get on your last nerve so you tranquilized all of them?”

“I sold them all. On the black market.”

“I hope you got a good price for them,” she chides, and trails the tip of her big toe along his spine. “I put a lot of work into those kids. Not to mention what my body went through. I think that’s worth a good penny, don’t you? Doesn’t it deserve compensation? My body going to absolute shit?”

“Your body is amazing. It was incredible when we met, and it’s even more incredible now.”

“You really are the most biased husband on earth. My ass is bigger. My hips are wider.”

“You’ve had babies. MY babies.”

“Yeah, I have,” she smiles, and once more props herself up on her elbows. “Only guy in the universe I’d ever give that many spawn too.”

He grins at her through the mirror. “I’m honoured.”

“You should be,” she playfully retorts. “You’re naked under that towel, aren’t you.”

“Well considering I just got out of the shower and I don’t wear board shorts or underwear when I’m in there…”

“Honey, as incredible as your body is and I could lie here all day admiring it, I’m going to need you to put some clothes on. It’s far too tempting to engage in X rated activity when you’re naked. Or next to naked.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing. X rated activities. With me.”

“Normally it’s not. But I think I’m PMSing.” That dramatic, adorable pout again. “ I’ve got wicked cramps and I’m feeling bloated as fuck and you know my hesitancy on having sex when all of that is going on. I know it doesn’t faze you and as much as orgasms DO help, it’s just not my jam.”

“Say no more.” Sighing, he gets to his feet; grateful that the normally bone deep pain that resides in his right knee has settled into nothing more than a dull, manageable ache. And he grabs a pair of discarded jeans slung over the back of the chair by the balcony door; releasing the towel from around his waist and tossing it in the direction of the laundry hamper.

“Now that’s just evil,” Esme declares. “You are a bad, bad, BAD man.”

He smirks at her through the mirror. “Why’s that?”

“Don’t play innocent with me. You know exactly what you’re doing. Just dropping the towel like that. That’s so, so, SO mean.”

“Gotta give you something to stare at, yeah?”

“I prefer to call it admiring. And I have done a lot of admiring over the last twelve and half years. You never disappoint, husband.”

“I aim to please.”

“And do you ever hit your mark. Each and every time.”

Grinning, he tugs the jeans up over his hips and ass and tends to the button and zipper; pushing a hand through his damp hair as he approaches the side of the bed. “Move.”

“I like this spot. It’s YOUR spot. It’s got all your grooves in it. It’s comfortable.”

“Yeah, but it’s MY spot. And you know how anal I am about my spot. So haul ass. Please.”

“Grump face,” she mutters, but wriggles her way backward across the bed; rolling onto her hip as he joins her; sliding under the comforter and laying on his side facing her.

“Come here…” Reaching out, he curls an arm around her petite frame and pulls her into him. Hand resting in the middle of her back as his other arm slips under her shoulder; thigh wedging between her legs.. “...I’ll make you feel better, baby. In a non X rated way.”

“You’re so selfless.” She presses her body against his; a hand pushing through his hair and her head tucking under his chin. Eyes closing and a long, content sigh escaping her as she breathes in his familiar scent. Clean and crisp; notes of sandalwood and citrus. “So generous. Where ARE the kids?”

“Desi took them out. Lunch and a movie. Candy bar afterwards.”

“He just offered or....?”

“I called him. Told him you were having a rough day. That I needed some time and some space and some quiet. To take care of my girl.”

A smile plays on her lips as she pulls back to look at him. “Your girl, huh?”

“That’s what you are, aren’t ya? Or would I rather I call you my old lady?”

“I would definitely NOT rather that. I like it; being called your girl. It’s cute. I like the sound of it.”

He presses a kiss to the bridge of her nose. Palm sliding up her back, across her shoulder and then gently cupping the side of her face ; thumb repeatedly brushing against the top of her cheek.

She likes these moments with him. Quiet and content; bodies pressed together in a pure and innocent form of intimacy. The way his gaze never wavers ; as if he's intently studying every inch of her features and committing them to memory. Love and adoration written as plain as day upon his face; the softness of his expression, the gentle touch of a callused palm and fingertips, the tender smile that plays on his lips. A beautiful man with a not so beautiful past. A childhood filled with torment and abuse and anguish and tremendous loss, followed by years of substance abuse and a life lived on the edge; hounded by immense grief and guilt and regret and anxious for death to claim him. It’s no surprise that he has the issues he does; no one can go through a lifetime of trauma and come out of it unscathed. But it’s a shock he isn’t worse than he is. Still filled with so much strength; resilient and brave and never backing down from even the biggest of challenges. Loving and compassionate and sensitive. A striking juxtaposition considering his choice of career. A hardened and highly skilled mercenary that kills as a means to an end, not because he enjoys it.

“So you actually CALLED Desi?” she inquires. “For help? That’s a little...out of character.”

“Didn’t have much of a choice. Your sister won’t be here until later and I wasn’t waiting that long. So I got a hold of him and asked him to do me a favour. If he could take the kids so I could concentrate on you. That’s kind of hard to do when there’s seven plus one under the same roof.”

“That’s HUGE for you. You didn’t just acknowledge and admit you needed help, you actually ACTED on it.”

“What’s so huge about that? I’ve asked for help before.”

“You’ve asked ME for help before. Never someone else. That’s not you, Tyler. You’d rather wear yourself thin or completely burn yourself out than rely on other people.”

“It’s one of my issues,” he admits. “For many reasons. But you know how I always say there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you?”

Esme nods.

“That includes swallowing my pride and asking for help.”

“You doing THAT? THAT’S love right there. And probably some lust, too.”

“There’s a little bit of that in there too,” he teases, and then places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. Their eyes closing when the tip of his nose comes to rest against her forehead; hand slipping from her cheek and finding the back of her neck, fingers gently and deftly massaging the tense muscles.

For several minutes neither of them speak; basking in the silence and the warmth that radiates from one another's bodies; his slow, even breaths ruffling her hair, hers tickling his bare neck. These moments are rare; the chaos of raising seven children and their respective work schedules and responsibilities. Both are looking forward to her being home more. The opportunity to actually be alone; walks on the beach or time in the water, hikes in the woods or strolls through town. And the road trips. Needing nothing more than gas in the tank and money in their pockets.

*****

“Feeling any better?” Tyler asks, and slips his hand up into her hair; fingertips gently kneading the scalp.

“A little. Have a headache though. Not sure if it’s PMS or my moods or my meltdown earlier. But it’s a bitch. A mean, old bitch.”

He pulls away. Hand moving to the top of her head and fingers pressing on her well known problem areas; along the tops of both brows, the inside corners of her eyes, the bridge of her nose. Attempting to alleviate at least some of the pain and pressure. “Good?” he asks, when she reaches up to push her fingers through his; drawing their joined hands down to her lips and pressing a kiss to the side of his wrist.

She nods, a smile curving her lips. “Good. You and your magic fingers. They certainly know their stuff. In many ways.”

“They have a talent all of their own.”

“They certainly do. MANY talents, actually. Are YOU feeling better?”

“Not bad. My body feels pretty good. Thought maybe I’d be in agony after my run, but…”

“You pushed yourself, didn’t you. HARD. Harder than you’re supposed to.”

“Come on now. Would I actually do something like that? Not listen to the doctor’s orders?”

“You most certainly would. And you definitely have. Be careful, Tyler. Don’t push the limits too much, okay? I realize you know your own body, but you don’t always listen to it. I don’t want you hurting yourself. Screwing something up and needing surgery. AGAIN.”

“I won’t go too hard,” he promises, and pecks her lips. “But right now? I’m taking care of YOU. Not the other way around. You’ve spent a lot of time looking after me. Worrying about me. Probably too much.”

“It’s not like it’s a job or something like that. You’re my husband. I love you. That’s why I do it.”

“And I love you. Which is why I need to step up and take care of you. Don’t be so stubborn, Me. Let me look after you. We’re a team, yeah? We’re supposed to be in this together? Let me pick up some of the slack.”

“It’s a bad habit of mine. Doing everything myself. I mean, in high school I was the one that got saddled with all the work during group projects. My classmates would fuck around and I’d be stuck having to do it all by my lonesome.”

“Well you don’t have to do this by your lonesome. It’s a two way street, right? You and me against the world?”

Nodding, she presses a kiss to his chin, then his lips. “You’re a good husband. I think I’ll keep you.”

“Good. Because I think I’ll stick around. I kinda like it here.”

Smiling, she lays a hand on the side of his face. Her fingers press through his beard; nails lightly scraping along his jaw. “Do you think we could talk?”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing? You already said no naked time, so…”

“I mean a serious talk. Piggybacking off what happened this morning. More specifically, what happened with ME this morning. And WHY it happened.”

“I thought we already talked about it. When you got back. Didn’t realize there was anything more to say. You’re going through some shit. Depression. Probably PTSD. You got a lot of stress. And probably most of that can be blamed on me.”

“I’m not blaming anything on you. I never have. I never will. My brain was screwed up way before you ever came along.”

“I’m sure I made it worse. I’ve put you through a lot of crap. Twelve and a half years of it.”

“We are not doing this. YOU are not doing this. That’s all water under the bridge, Tyler. Things we went through and dealt with. It’s behind us. Can we leave it there? Can YOU? Because it’s not doing you any good; holding onto so much guilt and regret. I don’t want you doing that. That’s the last thing I want, actually.”

“It’s kind of hard NOT to do it. To think back on it all and not see how badly i’ve fucked up.”

“It was all beyond your control. Things went bad. That’s all there is to really say about it. Things went to shit and you reacted badly to them and you made some pretty crappy judgement calls. But we got past all of that. I don’t hold grudges against you. I don’t hate you. Or blame you for anything. It’s time you stop blaming yourself, okay?”

“You know me. I’m willing to try anything once. Except for maybe eating ass. That’s a little too far out of my comfort zone.”

“Well lucky for you, it’s WAY out of mine. But can we? Have a serious talk? Without it turning into a fight? I don’t want to fight with you. We’ve come a long way since those days; everything turning into a big blow out.”

“I don’t want to fight with you, either. But if it’s something THAT serious…”

“I mean, it’s serious but not THAT serious. It’s not life or death or anything. It’s just...I don’t know…” her fingers nervously fidget with the chain around his neck. “...it’s a pretty big deal.”

“Is it about us? Are we having problems I’m not aware of? Is there someone else?”

“No! Oh my god, no. Nothing like that. Other than dealing with our own mental stuff, we are fine. We are MORE than fine. And there isn’t anyone else. There never has been. And there never will be. You’re it for me. For the rest of my life. There’s no one else I want. I could EVER want.”

Smiling, he presses a kiss to her lips.

“It’s to do with me. What’s going on in my head. What HAS been going on in there. And I need you to promise that you won’t freak out. That you won’t hear the worst of it and shut down and lose your temper and…”

He frowns. “Esme…”

“Tyler, I love you. More than you could ever possibly know. And right now, I need you to promise me that you won’t lose it. That you’ll just listen and let everything sink in. Not just hear a bit and react. Can you do that? Promise me?”

He nods. “I won’t lose my shit. Promise. What’s going on? Are you okay? Are you sick? Is there something wrong and you’ve been holding out on me?”

“I’m not sick,” she assures him. “Not physically anyway. It’s all to do with my brain. I’ve struggled for years. Long before I ever met you. And I’ve had some down moments; since we’ve been together. Especially after each of our babies. When postpartum was a real bitch to me. So it’s not like you don’t know what I deal with. In my head.”

“I’ve known for years. You told me pretty much right from the start. A couple days into Dhaka. About having depression. Being diagnosed after your dad died. And I’m pretty sure you’ve got PTSD too. After everything that went on in Bangladesh, ESPECIALLY on that bridge? You can’t say it would be a surprise. If you were diagnosed with it.”

“The furthest thing from a surprise. Now you promise? Not to freak out?”

“I already did. Can we get to it already? Because you stall any longer and my anxiety is going to go off the charts.”

Sighing, she curls a finger around his necklace and gently yanks him into a kiss. Lips lingering on his before finally pulling away. “I lied to you. About a year ago,”

“About…?”

“Do you remember when you were in Brazil? For a couple weeks? The whole drug cartel thing?”

He nods. “What about it?”

“Remember how when you came back, I mentioned a girls weekend. In Cairns. With Riley and Shaena. And how I was worried you’d be pissed because I wanted to go on it? Because you’d been gone for two weeks and me leaving meant we’d only have a couple days together?”

“Yeah, and I was fine with it. You needed a break. I didn’t have a problem with you going. What…?”

“There was never a girls weekend,” Esme admits, and his frown intensifies; deep furrows inhabiting his brow. “We made it up. So you wouldn’t know what was really going on.”

“Babe...what…?”

“I was in the hospital. For three days. And not just any hospital. A psychiatric one.”

“A psychiatric hospital? Why? What…?”

“When you were gone, I had a really bad time. I mean, I always do when you leave. I don’t sleep, I worry constantly, I stress over everything and even little stuff gets on my nerves and drags me down. But this was worse. WAY worse. And even though I knew you were okay and that you were coming home, I still had all that dread, you know? All that worry. Constantly wondering if maybe I’d never see you again. That maybe the last time you walked out the door really WAS the last time.”

“That was an easy job. I wasn’t even out in the field. I was strictly behind the scenes. I never even left the hotel. Not until I had to go get everyone out. I told you I’d stay behind and I did.”

“I know. But I still freaked out. I was still worried. I always worry about you, you know that. And one night it was really bad. I felt like I was losing it. I hadn’t heard from you that day and you didn’t return any of my voicemails or texts and…”

“We had problems with coms. I told you that. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you. There were legit issues.”

“And I tried telling myself that. That there were issues. But it didn’t help. And I lost it. Badly. I’m pretty sure it was actually a mental breakdown. And I called Riley because I was freaking out and I couldn’t get control of myself. I thought I was going crazy. And I told her that I felt like I was going to hurt myself.”

He blinks at her confession. “What?”

“I don’t think I actually would have done it. I think I was just feeling desperate at that moment. I don’t think…”

“You wanted to kill yourself? You wanted to die?”

“I guess. I don’t know. I was looking for a way out. An escape. And my brain wasn’t exactly in a good place and that’s where it went. Like I said, I don’t think I would have actually done anything. But I called Riley and she came over and stayed with me and the kids. Just in case.”

“What if she hadn’t been around? What if she couldn’t have come over? What if she still lived in Colorado? Would you have done it? Hurt yourself?”

“I don’t know,” she admits. “I don’t think so.”

“You don’t THINK so? Esme…”

“I wasn’t exactly thinking right. I was in a really bad way, Tyler. REALLY bad. And I needed help. So I called her.”

“Why didn’t you call ME?”

“What would you have been able to do? You were in Brazil.”

“I would have come home. Right away. I would have dropped everything and had someone else be in charge. Do you really think I wouldn’t have? Come home? There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. Why didn’t you call me?”

“You were so far away,” she attempts to reason. “And I needed help right away.”

“I would have talked you down. I would have gotten you through it. Why wouldn’t you get a hold of me? I’m your husband.”

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. I was just thinking in the moment. And getting ahold of you in Brazil wasn’t the first thing that came to my mind. It wasn’t personal. You should know that. That you’re the one person that’s always been able to help me. But you were thousands of miles away and you were busy and I didn’t want to put something else on you. Burden you.”

“Burden me? You’re my wife. You could never burden me. What the fuck, Esme? Why didn’t you at least tell me I got home? Why lie to me? Why make up this whole fucking story about a girls trip? Why…?”

“I didn’t want to put that on you. Especially when you had to stay with the kids. They needed you to be focused and all about them. And you wouldn’t have been able to do that if I told you. I didn’t want you to worry.”

“You didn’t want me to worry? You’re my WIFE.”

“I was trying to protect you. I’m always trying to protect you.”

“I don’t need you to protect me,” Tyler argues. “I’m not a fucking child, Esme. I’m a grown ass man. I don’t need you coddling me and babying me and protecting me. I would have stepped up and took care of you. That should have been on me. Not your sister. Not Shaena. Not anyone else. Me.”

“I needed you to take care of the kids. You’d been gone for two weeks and they missed you and I didn’t want them to be without BOTH parents. It’s not personal. I didn’t make the decisions I did to hurt you. I made them to help you. To help our family.”

“How much help would it have been if I’d come home and you were dead on the floor? How much help would it have been if one of our kids had found you? Do you know how bad that would have fucked them up? Losing their mother like that? Do you know how bad it would have fucked ME up?”

“I wasn’t thinking of those things. I wasn’t thinking about anything. That’s the problem. All I wanted was an escape. That’s it.”

“An escape from what? Your shitty life with your shitty husband?”

“No!” She clasps his face in her hands. “I love my life. And my husband. You know what depression is like. It doesn’t care where you live or what you have or how many people love you. It’s all in your head. It’s a fucking monster you can’t escape from. You know EXACTLY what it’s like. I never meant…” her voice cracks with emotion. “...I never meant to hurt you. I would NEVER hurt you. I thought I was protecting you. And I know you say you don’t need me to. And maybe you don’t. But I do it because I love you. Because I want to make things easier on you. That’s all. It’s not to hurt you, Tyler.”

“You can’t try and convince me I’m not broken when you treat me like I am.”

She frantically grabs at the chain around his neck with one hand, his shoulder with the other. “That’s not what I was doing. You AREN’T broken. I don’t treat you like you are.”

“You are when you do shit like that. When you lie to me. Especially about something like this.”

“I’ve never lied to you. About anything. I’ve always been honest. About my childhood, about what Mark put me through, about…”

“What about the guy?”

“What guy? What…?”

“The one you went out with. When we were separated. Took you years to tell me about him.”

She frowns. “There was nothing to tell you. He was just some single dad I met at daycare pick up. That’s it. It was nothing important. Just some guy.”

“That you went out with. While we were still married.”

“Have you been just waiting to throw that in my face? Have you been holding onto that all this time? Just looking for the opportunity to hold that over my head? Why would you…?”

“I was faithful to you. Whether we were going to work shit or not. I wasn’t looking for someone else. I didn’t want another woman. And I could have had one. I could have had tons of them. It wasn’t for lack of opportunity, believe me.”

“Then why didn’t you do it? If you had so many chances. Why didn’t you take any of them?”

“Because I wanted my wife. I didn’t want anyone else. You, Just you.”

“And I wanted you! But you were a fucking mess and I was hurt because you weren’t fighting for me. For your family. So yeah, I went out on a date. Because someone showed interest in me and made me feel special and beautiful and wanted. Because I was hurt and I wanted you to hurt just as much as I was. I was so pissed at you. For not getting your shit together and coming home and fighting for us. So I went out on a date. And I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the attention."

“Did you fuck him?”

“No. I told you what happened. I told you he tried and I turned him down. I told him that I couldn’t do it because I was still in love with my husband. That I was still hoping we could work things out. That’s the truth. And that’s how I got that black eye. Because he didn’t handle the rejection so well. That’s the truth. All of it. I never slept with him. I’ve ever been with anyone but you. For the last twelve and a half years. Just you.”

He nods slowly, letting her words sink in.

“Tyler…” her nails dig into the back of his neck. “...don’t do this...don’t shut me out. Please don’t do that. I don’t want you to do that.”

“What do you want me to say? What…?”

“I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you. I never meant to lie to you. I…” tears flow freely down her face. “...I’m sorry. I am so fucking sorry.”

“Come here,” he gently orders, and pushing a hand through her hair, settles it on her back and pulls her into him. “It’s okay, Me. Everything’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to lie to you. Not about the guy and not about the girls weekend. I was just trying to protect you. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know you weren’t.” Pressing a kiss to her temple, he rolls over onto his back; both arms wrapping around her and pulling her with him. “And I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have brought that shit up. I haven’t been holding onto it. Or waiting to use it again. I reacted. Badly. And when I do, nothing is off limits. I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean to say that shit.”

“It’s okay,” she sniffles, and curls her arms around his neck. “I know how you get. When you hear things you don’t like. But for the record? This is what I meant when I made you promise not to lose it.”

“I am so fucking sorry. I’m an asshole. A huge asshole.”

“No. You’re not. You just have no chill sometimes. I’m used to it. Or fairly used to it, anyway.”

“I never should have said what I did. About the guy you went out with. You had every right to. Go on a date. I wasn’t exactly stepping up. I just lost it. Hearing about you wanting to hurt herself and how you spent time in psychiatric hospital. Kinda kicked me in the nuts, ya know?”

“I was going to tell you,” she says, chin resting on his chest as she looks up at him. “When I got home. But I was feeling so much better and you and the kids were so happy to see me. I didn’t want to ruin that. And then we got on with life and there never seemed to be a good time. So I kept it to myself. It wasn’t to intentionally hurt you., I’d NEVER do that.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I know you wouldn’t.”

“And I don’t mean to treat you like you’re broken. Because you’re not. A little bent, maybe…”

He manages a laugh. “I’ve been put through the ringer a few times. Got a little too many miles on me. Quite the collection of dents and scars going on.”

“They’re beautiful. Every single one of them.” Wriggling further up the bed, she pushes a hand through his hair; tightly gripping the longer locks as she pecks the corner of his mouth. “I’m sorry, Tyler. That I lied to you. I had good intentions. I really did.”

“You always do.” He curls an arm around her neck and kisses her. Long and soft and sweet; tasting the salty tears that linger across her top lip. “It’s okay, Me. Don’t cry. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I’m sorry.” He tangles his fingers in her hair, gently pushing her head back down onto his chest. “ Has it happened again? Feeling the way you did? Have you wanted to hurt yourself? Or worse?”

“No. I haven’t felt that way since. I’ve been depressed, but not like that.”

“And you’d tell me? If you did feel that way?”

She nods.

Sighing heavily, he places a forearm over his eyes. Lying in silence and feeling her body tremble against his; knuckles repeatedly ghosting along her spine as he attempts to get a grasp on the situation. Her mental health issues have never been a secret; she’s been on medication for years and has occasionally needed it to be tweaked. But to hear that she’d been THAT low? Considering hurting herself? Or even attempting something more permanent? It’s devastating. Feeding right into his worst fear. The thought of losing her to an event totally beyond his control. A wedge of emotion settles in his throat and tears prick his eyes; the realization of how close he’d come to losing. But he fights it off. Needing to stay strong for her. Always willing, ready, and able to put his own problems aside. Her rock and her protector.

“Tyler?” Her voice is impossibly tiny. Apprehensive. Scared.

“Yeah, babe?”

“I love you. So much. You’ll never know how much.”

Smiling, he slides his palm to the back of her neck and drops a kiss on the top of her head. “I love you too.”