#that floating truck is straight out of strange world

[imflyingfish]

Brand new storage room/garage :] thanks to @vee-creatation once again funding it and also. Forcing me to stop procrastinating and actually build for once. Did me a solid. Plus she's in the photo :]

[vhstown]

'til the breath returns

— hobie brown x gn!reader (dissociation comfort)

summary: It's hard to stay in your own body sometimes. At least Hobie's right there with you.

warnings: v self-indulgent (so may not be a very accurate depiction of dissociation erm...), dissociation / derealisation / depersonalisation (those terms are distinct but just in case :p), anxious behaviour, hurt/comfort-ish, hobie is trying his best? (he's not ur therapist but it's okay) & not proofread

word count: 1.9k

a/n: been struggling to get out of a dp/dr funk recently so. here we are! no gif lemme keep this one on the down-low fr 😭 img is of camden town from pinterest

🕸️📞🎸

"Hello? Hello...?"

The muscles in your shoulders tightened at the sound of the voice, obscurely louder than anything else around you — around you being the market, that was. Just how long had you been here?

You felt a burning ache in your eyes as you looked around, taking in the blur around you before meeting the expression of the man in front of you. The owner of the food truck, of course. He had an impatient look on his face, but it was too much detail to be anxious about.

"Sorry, uh..." you offered quietly, cut off by another loud voice behind you.

"Just hurry up and pay, mate! We haven't got all day!"

Your jaw tensed, crunching uncomfortably as you fumbled for something in your pockets. Trying to find cash of some sort, the world became still again, and you could barely register what they were saying before you put whatever you could find on the window sill of the truck.

Something that sounded unpleasant, another shout, maybe, followed behind you as you walked out into the open pavements of the market. Your hands felt funny, breath dry and head heavy and so light at the same time. It felt like you were floating, but also sinking so deep under water you were moving slow motion against the thick water. It was somewhat comforting, that image.

Maybe you should just sit down, let yourself fall backwards and sink. Maybe you'd wake up in bed, and fully be able to open your own eyes again. When was the last time you could do that? When was the last time you woke up? This morning, surely. It seemed so far away; maybe you should walk home, find home — it was somewhere near here. Where were you walking?

Why was the ground getting so close to your face—

"Hey, hey! Oi!"

Before your weight could fall forward anymore, you felt a hand move around your stomach. Tongue stinging too, you realise you'd bitten it. The urgent touch became more gentle, as the haste wore off and you were helped to your feet. You tried to pick up the sounds to form a "thank you", but all you could do was stare strangely as you met a face you could just about recognise.

"Don't mean to scare you, darling."

It was your boyfriend, is what you told yourself. Hobie.

"Didn't get your change..." He held out the coins in his hand, some of which were probably already yours . "And you're trippin' over yourself."

It would sound too weird if you tried to laugh, so you didn't bother.

"My bad, just out of it." Right, is what he must've thought.

"Been out of it for a while, huh?" He taps your cheek twice, bringing your attention to him. You hadn't realised you'd been staring dead straight into his chest — not anywhere near his face. "Your patty's all squashed, love."

His fingers moved gently between yours, prying the poor warm paper from your hand. The patty you had bought had started to singe the tips of your fingers, and the tips of your fingers had already broken apart the bread of the patty.

You didn't have much will to complain, but the corners of Hobie's mouth turned down in a frown. He took your hand, the pad of histhumb brushing the lingering heat off of your fingers

"What's going on? You hungry? Tired? Upset...?" All you could give him was a useless shrug — it'd probably be easier to fix if you could describe it; if only. "Hm..."

The back of his hand was cold against your forehead. Or maybe you were cold; he never really got cold after all.

"You wanna go home?"

"Hm?" you murmured, Hobie observing you. You weren't supposed to go home; you'd get over it. Fresh air and a walk was supposed to help, anyway — not like it was. "Thought you wanted to stay."

"We can always come back another time. You don't look like you're enjoying yourself."

His hand moved to your shoulder, brushing his lips over your forehead. It was definitely you that was cold.

"I think you should have my patty, too," he added, placing his in your hand.

Arm moving fully around your shoulder, the two of you started to walk back.

"It'll be warm out, soon," Hobie comments, as if trying to be inconspicuous. He pulls you closer to mams for a lady walking her dogs: little white lap dogs that turned their heads to look at you, or maybe Hobie. You tried to remember if the last time you saw them was today or last week.

"Ah, yeah..." you said, realising he was waiting for you to say something — something of more substance, probably.

"Sure bloody hope so," he continued, something like humour in his voice. "Been freezing my bum off for the past month."

Your steps felt big against the ground, like the ground was pushing back up, and you were going to float away if Hobie let you go. All you could do was just hope he didn't.

"It better not rain, though. I'll go mad if it does. Nothing's good in the rain, 'specially not food. Meant to have a street party soon."

Remembering the patty in your hand, you took a bite before Hobie had to remind you. It was veg — not beef like he'd usually have. In fact, he complained about the veg usually. Still, today, he'd wanted a veg patty. You held onto that fact like it was the first thing you'd ever been told, as you walked together.

As he continued talking, you had reached the riverside. It looked onwards to the canal, the water coloured by the orange sun. Everything always looked so different on the way back; the air was still, and it was evening by now.

"Mine or yours?" Hobie asks, as you reach the by-street.

"Mine, if you come with me."

"I ain't gonna leave you behind, or nothin'."

He cracks a smile, and you reach for his hand time time as you took the turn to your home. There were shops that passed by, but you didn't pay enough attention to figure out what they were.

And you weren't sure when you ended up in bed, probably after making conversation for a bit and changing, because you were now in your own bed, arms and legs and Hobie's chest encasing you in a relaxed hug. You were wearing a shirt that fit weirdly on you. It was likely his — the one shirt he had without lint on it. His head wasn't entirely on your shoulder, but he was close enough to press a kiss to your temple — it left a warm, tingling feeling, as did the rest of his weight against you.

"Is there something wrong specifically?" he asks, voice a quiet, smooth vibration next to you.

"Dunno, I just... feel weird. Mentally, I mean," you admit, turning your head to lean it against his. "I think this is helping, though."

"Yeah? You want me to do anything else?" You just wanted to keep yourself awake; you wanted to keep hearing his voice.

"Want to hear you talk more."

"As long as you talk as well." Your quiet sigh was audible enough to him, it seemed. "C'mon love, you've gotta talk, or you'll be stuck up there forever."

With your demeanor seeming to give up with you, he pressed another kiss to your face, near the corner of your mouth this time. It usually got a smile out of you, but you didn't know if you had the energy to. He lingered there, still.

"How about we start with right now?" he muttered, hand on your shoulder. "You gonna tell me about those new decorations in your room? Or all those new clothes in your closet? Or how your bathroom doesn't have the nice-tasting toothpaste anymore?"

"Hobie... What the hell..." You frowned. And then the smallest laugh escaped out of you, because you frowned, and then he laughed, because it was all he really needed.

"I'm serious, though. Let's start from the top?"

"Like... from when I was born?" That got a laugh out of him, thankfully. Your smile, though little, didn't seem to disappear just yet.

"Well, if you want," he replied, pulling his arms tighter around your sides. "I was thinking more like, this morning?"

This morning... A little worry creeped inside your stomach as you came to face how little you could really recount right now. The light brush of Hobie's thumb against your cheek kept you at bay, however, and you took in a deep breath.

"Well, today... we went to the market together," you started, taking his hand from your shoulder and holding it in your own. You toyed idly with his fingers, thumb brushing over his rings as your mind fell into blankness again.

"And it rained all morning," Hobie said, after a beat of silence, fingers gently squeezing yours.

"And... this little kid slipped in the mud," you murmured.

"Ah, he did. Rough, weren't it?"

"Mhm," you replied, and at the silence, you tried to continue. "Poor thing. His dad looked horrified."

The quiet chuckle against your back made your words seem somewhat more trustworthy, and you finally decided to just let yourself speak, about anything that came to mind.

"...And then we went to look at clothes. None of them were your size."

"Couldn't believe it..." Hobie commented, murmuring.

"And then we... got lost for a bit. Ended up in this shop that sold china."

"Oh yeah, there were those funny bird-lookin' ones."

"And then we walked around for a bit..."

Truthfully, he wasn't sure if it was actually helping or not, but at the very least, that fuzzy look in your eyes that scared him a bit had eased

"And now we're home," you concluded, and he kissed the side of your head as if to confirm.

"Yep. Where are we?" The question was pretty straightforward, but you took the chance to answer regardless.

"In my room... On my bed." The mattress creaked just a little as you readjusted your position, moving closer against him. "And I'm still with you."

"Uh-huh. Still here."

"It's getting dark out, though." Looking out at the dimming sky through your window, you took another breath in, not as deep as you would've liked.

"I can stay," Hobie reassured. His voice gave no reason for you to doubt it.

"Could you?"

"A hundred percent. Not a second I don't wanna spend with you."

Hobie brushed his nose against yours, before pressing a momentary kiss to your lips.

"Look," he started, voice low and soft, slightly more serious. "I'm not exactly sure how to help, but whatever you need, I'll be here."

Turning to face him again, you returned his kiss, holding it a little longer to feel the warmth of his lips against yours. Hobie held you like you were the world, and everything in it; if you didn't need to, at least you wanted to.

"Can we just keep talking?" Your voice sounded different, but not strange — a bit less tense, more certain.

"We can talk about anything you want; we've got all night."

You narrowed your eyes in thought for a moment, and he looked at you as if he already knew what you were thinking.

"...Could you scratch my back too?"

Hobie grinned, and so warmly — so easily. You felt a smile tug at your lips too, breath sinking back into your chest and the ever-present weight starting to lift from your body.

"Yeah, sweetheart — of course. Want me to switch the light off?"

You decided to nod, saving your words for when you finally laid in the darkness, curled up against him. Murmuring soft, yet sure words between each other, his fingers grazed your back in a gentle back-and-forth, and as your voice faded, he pressed another kiss to your forehead, pulling you further into him and the covers.

Breath quiet and even, you inevitably drifted into sleep. His hand was still on your back, feeling each breath of yours as it came and went, like the shore lapping against the land. And he'd breathe right with you, even when you couldn't hear him — even if he'd have to do it all over again tomorrow.

Always, he promised himself, and you. Always, until your breath returned — until you returned.

🕸️📞🎸

thank you for reading urrrr never written a comfort fic before n ik this is kind of diff but hopefully some of my usual stuff soon 🙏

rbs appreciated if u liked it, atsv masterlist here!

@phoenixinthefiles @qiupachups

[bitwynn]

"Behold," (holds up a dead person) "a Paimon!" PART 1

NEXT

Italics and “...”  will be used with RECKLESS abandon. Grammar and writing sensitive people, read with caution. This is not a ship fic, I am aroace and as this is mostly self indulgent and wish fulfillment and my one wish is to be Diluc's friend, it will be written as such. Meaning, there will be no explicit shipping. Along the line there might be subtle or even straight up shipping, but this is not an "x reader" or "x y/n" fic. This is literally just me wanting to be Diluc's friend via horrific isekai and ghost. If you want ship material, this is not the fic for you.

Hyde/Paimon/Phantom!Reader is left and italic, Jekyll/Diluc is right and bold. Both is bolded italic.

WARNING-- THIS SHIT WILL GET REAL GRAPHIC REAL FAST. THERE ARE VISCERAL DESCRIPTIONS OF GORE AND DYING PAST THE KEEP READING BUTTON. IF YOU WOULD LIKE TO KEEP READING, PLEASE IGNORE THE SECOND PARAGRAPH OF BOTH THE FIRST PART AND THE SECOND PART. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.

---

Every isekai story starts roughly the same. A girl or boy or person of indeterminate gender wakes up from their slumber and does their daily routine, morning or otherwise, to prepare and/or actually do menial tasks for the rest of the day while dreaming of things beyond their reach. And as they step out of their homes, or workplaces, or what have you, they are possibly immediately bear hugged by the oh, so lovable truck-kun. This story my friends, is no different. 

You feel your body break with the force of the impact, ribs shattering and insides ripped to shreds by the metal, and the plastic, and bone. Your neck snapped to the side instantly but, as you were about to find out, broken necks are very survivable and you wished that you were part of the group that died instantly as you lay there, like a puppet with cut strings, slowly choking on your own blood and feeling the exact moment the life left your system. 

You only wished that you paid a little more attention to the road. But dammit, you had enough primogems for a 10 pull on Yelan's banner and you couldn't possibly not pull. 

As your eyes glazed over and you breathed your last, you felt the darkness overtake you. Many who've died and come back to tell the tale speak of death like falling asleep. And right they are, covered in a comforting black, endlessly floating through an infinite void. If you had eyes in this form, they've slid shut right now. Fully relaxed and free from all care from your past mortal existence, you could only wait to see what awaits you in this afterlife. 

Except. 

You feel something. 

A tug at what one would assume to be a chest. Your chest. The tug becomes stronger, slowly turning into a pull, and a beat. You first try to resist, as the once foreign concept of pain enters your body again and see blue sky for but a moment and you're immediately pulled back into the black. 

Gas filled what would constitute your lungs in this quickly morphing void, the feeling both so familiar and strange. 

The pain, no. Please, please not the pain. And the black, or the world, or the universe, or all, or one, or even you, scream. It all shakes with the force of your desperation, reaching out to be free from... from all of this. And, you grant your wish. 

--- 

Master Diluc awakens from his restless slumber, a choked scream stuck in his throat. He quickly stumbles over to his personal bathrooms to vomit his guts out as his mind reels from the content of his dream. If... it was even a dream. 

It was all so detailed, all so real. The way he felt his ribs bend and crack, the way he felt the blood and fluids in his organs practically explode out of him like a popped balloon. His limbs ached, his head pounded, and he felt so, so weak and tired. He could not help but think of the first time he'd seen a Delusion, and the first and last time he used one. 

He was incredibly sure he hadn't consumed any alcohol that night or the day before, but he couldn't help the doubts that crept into his mind. He hadn't eaten or drunk anything strange, he mused to himself as he continued to purge his stomach of its contents. A small thought came into the back of his head, someone talking about how one could get drunk from sniffing alcohol. It was accompanied by shrill and delirious laughter, as the thought continued to unfold, as apparently one could get drunk through their asshole. He merely quirked an eyebrow at himself for using such crass language. 

Diluc stilled. Or at least, he stuttered his heaving, both his breaths and his gut. That wasn't his voice. 

He rested his hot and sticky forehead against the cool porcelain, helping soothe his headache just a little, the picture of a sick and distraught man. His head was filled naught with despair however, as his senses went into overdrive. Who was this person, why is this person in his house, how did they get into his quarters unnoticed by his staff? Questions like these filled him, as he scoped out his rooms with his senses alone. 

There was no telltale coolness on his skin of a slightly ajar window, no smell of the rich earth that surrounded his home and nourished his grapevines, no sounds other than his ragged breath and rustling of his clothes. And of course, that voice. 

The voice continued laughing and laughing and laughing. It wasn't long before their laughter took on the tone of someone in shock and disbelief, and, incredulity. They were panicking. 

Now, if Diluc can just figure out where this voice is coming from, consequently finding where this person is as well, they'd swiftly take care of... whatever this situation is. 

But Diluc can't and the volume of this person's panicked laughter grew and grew, until he had to speak up to not alert the rest of the household. If they weren't alerted already. 

"If you're just fatui scum come to assassinate me, just finish it." 

He expected them to answer him with some level of decorum or glee, to gloat and monologue about the greatness of their Tsaritsa and how his death will benefit their plans but if anything, the laughter gained even more of an edge of distress to it. 

"Wh-wha? What? What the fuck?!" 

The laughter was quickly replaced by heaving gasps, and breaths, and sobs. This was... certainly not the reaction he was expecting. It wasn't even on the bottom of the list of things he was expecting. 

...what kind of fatui agent gets a panic attack in the middle of a job? 

"Holy shit. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit." 

He clearly hears the faint thud of knees hitting the floor behind him. He would've whirled around to face whoever it was were it not for his pounding headache. And so he slowly turned to where he knew this person was. 

And was faced with nothing. 

Well, not exactly. A better way of describing it perhaps, was that this person was nothing. This person was made of nothing. As if the concept of emptiness and nothingness itself suddenly decided to take some sort of humanoid form. He ignored the voice he heard from this person in the back of his mind, absent-mindedly commenting on how ridiculous that was.

They were kneeling on the floor, still lost in panic but somehow he can clearly see right through them. Literally. He can see his toiletry rack, mentally noting to ask Adelinde to refill his towels, where this person was sitting right smack dab in front of it. He could read the labels off his soaps and creams right through their abdomen, a thing that he shouldn't be able to do if someone was sitting in that exact spot in front of him. 

Are his baths haunted? The thought was immediately dismissed, offhandedly commenting on how, if it were to be haunted, it would probably be haunted with the souls of his family and not some random guy. He had to agree with that and wondered if this was his mental break then. 

"Hah! Honey, if one of us were to have a mental breakdown, it should be me!" 

The person then frowned at themselves. "Wait, wha?" 

"You–you didn't say shit– oh crap, wait, you're puking your guts out! Fuck, wait, uh–!" 

And as this very confused stranger started panicking over his disposition, Diluc had some concerns of his own. They were right, he knew he didn't say a word during this entire encounter as if he did, the only thing coming out of his mouth was spit and bile and vomit. But, he currently didn't have the mind to think about any of this, as he was still reeling from his nightmare?, trying to nurse his pounding headache, resisting the urge to puke, and watching this random stranger try and fail to fuss over him. Well, at least they weren't trying to murder him. 

He weakly gestured them over, having unconsciously relaxed in their presence. Other than his staff and the traveler and his family long ago, noone had so openly shown concern over him before. It might be his compromised state talking but, he welcomed this stranger's concern. Feeling strangely comforted by their pure and unadulterated worry over him. How strange. 

This... transparent being noticed his beckoning and quickly stumbled over from scanning his shelves for medicine or something for him. 

"Uhm– uh– ah– what is it, Diluc? You need help? Oh, for fuck's sake, of course you do! Aw, fuck, sorry, sorry, shit. I'm just– uh–" 

The figure wrung their hands as he weakly gestures to his hair. "O-oh! Right, uhm, okay here, lemme help with that." And with a heartbreaking gentleness, they gathered up his hair where it was threatening to take a bath in what was once his dinner, scraping the vomit off a few strands that already fell into the bowl. 

Diluc could barely nod his thanks before he ducked his head back into the toilet, his sick quickly returning to him. The stranger at his side softened a little, starting to rub his back and coo nothing into his ears. 

“Hey, hey, shh, its okay, its okay, its alright. Just… let it all out, man. Just let it out.”

They stayed like that for a while, both uncomfortably kneeling on the floor, Diluc purging his stomach and him being tended to by some kind of phantom.

They shifted a little, back starting to ache from the awkward angle they were in. Diluc whimpered a little at the loss of the warmth and touch. “I’m here, I’m here. I just,” they stretched and cracked their back a little. Can ghosts even do that? “Wanted to not turn my spine into a shrimp.” They then returned their hand to his back, before leaning against the toilet. And immediately falling through it.

Diluc hissed at their surprised high pitched scream as their hand slipped from his back and the rest of their body passed through his vomit-covered mess of a toilet. If… whatever this person was wasn’t a ghost, he would’ve already expected his staff bursting through his doors at the sound of someone screaming bloody murder. He put an arm against the porcelain, resting his aching head in his hand.

“Can you please quiet down?” The hyperventilating ghost slowed down a little in their panic before aggressively whispering to him. “Sorry! I’m sorry. It’s just– a lot of things happened to me today that I didn’t want or expect to happen!” They aggressively gestured to themselves, now sitting up but still phasing through the porcelain. “Like clipping through your fucking toilet!”

His confusion at their choice of words was quickly taken care of, sets of images and feelings and sensations filling his mind. Rage and shouting at strangely pristine looking people with even stranger clothing and appearances getting stuck in impossible positions, a quiet attention as a glass window–no, a computer screen, his? mind supplied, showed a horse and its rider seemingly walking on thin air directly beside a cliff with a faint hazy voice talking about a “Skyrim horse”, tired and delirious joy at making these characters head and limbs phase through objects in what was deemed “hilarious” by their mind.

The ghost continued on, not noticing Diluc’s inner turmoil at having access to information that had some sort of connection to them. “And–and fucking ending up in your house for some reason after I–” Their breath hitched, unconsciously curling into themselves. “After… after I… oh my god… ohhhhhh my god."

"Oh my fucking god, I died."

He turned his attention to them. "How… how would you say you died?"

His mind was flooded once again with thoughts and images and voices and feelings that weren't his, an almost mantra-like chant of stop freaking out, stop freaking out, stop freaking out– washing over it all.

Scenes and phantom pains from his supposed nightmare flashed by too quickly for him to process, before the figure in front of him took a deep breath.

And another. And another.

He didn't mind their silence, he expected it really– he is asking how a ghost died. And this one might've died quite recently, based on their unsettled demeanor.

Their calming breaths affected him quite nicely as well, as the quick buzz of thoughts and the overwhelming feeling of panic slowly left him with each breath they took. And with one last breath, they finally looked him in the eye.

"Well… I died…" they felt sounded like they couldn't quite believe it, despite the evidence staring them in the face.

"I… I died. I died." A sense of crushing despair began to bloom in his chest. They took a breath.

"I died."

He felt his own heart weep, at both the blooming sadness in his chest and the heavy confirmation, affirmation, and acceptance that they had really, truly died.

"I… died." They said once more, stating it as fact and pointedly ignoring the rising emotions swirling inside both of them.

"I died from a car crash. Yes…" a breath, to calm the wave of terrorpanicdespair inside both of them. "Yes, it was a car crash. No, truck actually."

Memories of their crash his nightmare filled his mind as they told their tale. They nodded to themselves, forcing themselves to be stoic "It was just another regular day of doing fuck all all day again, and I was walking home. I was on my phone, playing Genshin and pulling for Yelan. Being on your phone on the road is just– a generally bad idea as proven by my… current state of existence. So I… got hit by a truck… and died."

Other than their omission of their slow and painful death, It was a perfect play by play of his supposed nightmare. Diluc could only stare as the dots started connecting in his head.

The ghost mistook his blank stare as confusion to their story, immediately fretting over it. "Oh gosh, oh fuck, sorry I just– I forgot if you guys don't have cars or phones here! I mean, you guys might? Considering the fact that Snezhnaya is pretty technologically advanced, right? 'Cuz like, they got the guns and factories and the– everything! But like, even if they do have cars and things like that, you might not know since they haven't really… shared their tech with the rest of the world. I mean, they already started the industrial revolution, why not help the other nations too? …well, I mean its probably because of the Tsaritsa's whole 'plan against Celestia' thing, and because of the whole 'most if not all of Teyvat doesn't like them' thing… yeah… but wait–shit, you might know! You went on a whole rage-fuelled globe spanning adventure after the– because of the– yeah, we're not gonna talk about that right now, but back to the topic! You might know since you did piss off a couple harbingers during that and I'm assuming you went to Snezhnaya to be able to do that, or the harbingers brought some of their tech and used a car for easier transport or something, uh–"

“No, no, it’s…” Diluc paused, chewing on his words. “I… I know what a car is, its just– something else entirely…” He turned to fully face them, a grim look on his face. “You said you died via… car crash, correct?” They nodded, not exactly understanding his inquiry. “I mean, I had a whole depressing backstory monologue about it earlier. If you want me to repeat it, sorry, that was a one time thing.”

And I don’t think I wanna think too much on the fact that I’m fucking dEAD NOW HOLY SHIT–

The inaudible voice flowed into his mind smoothly now, its sort of whispery, sort of echoed quality distinguishing it from the words that flowed out of the ghost’s mouth. “Don’t worry, I… understand not wanting to dwell too much on that fact but…” He furrowed his brows. “If my hypothesis is correct, you are a ghost.” “No shit, Sherlock.”

A sort of savvy, sort of socially stunted master detective who loves monologuing to his assistant, eh? Hm, the origin of this saying must be from that… Doctor Watson finally snapping at him. Which seems unlikely, considering their close friendship. Hrm, might have to ask about that later.

“If you’d let me continue.” It wasn’t a request. “Sorry, sorry– just– still just really strung up about this whole–” He ignored the sudden rush of information in his mind again, setting aside the fact that his entire existence was to entertain masses of people on the other side of some glass screen. “–existing as a ghost here business!” He pointedly ignored the fact that they placed emphasis on the word “here”, already knowing its world shattering implications.

Also just kinda wanted to say that someday. God, that phrase is so cool. Still can’t believe the first time I actually said it in actual conversation as not a joke is in fuckin Genshin Impact of all places holy crap.

“...As I was saying, you’re a ghost. Before you were a ghost however, you died via complications of ruptured bodily organs and blood loss. Correct?”

“Well, yeah, I got hit by a car.”

Diluc leveled them with a stare.

“You didn’t tell me how you died.”

“What? No, I did! I literally said that I got hit by a truck and died.”

“That was the only thing you said, remember?”

“Yeah, it was!” They paused a little, and Diluc could literally feel the gears turning in their head. “Yeah… it was…” The realization hit them like a truck. Heh. “Oh. Ohhhh. I didn’t say shit about the details…”

“That you did.”

“But… you still knew.”

He nodded. “That I do.”

“But then… if you do– if you knew– then–” They snapped their head towards him. “Is that why you’re–”

“”Currently puking my guts up in the toilet”? Yes.”

“What the fuckkkkk… Wait, oh my god, did you read my mind?!”

Diluc hoped his theory was correct so they could start somewhere on their way to figuring out this dilemma. And to also not look like a blank faced fool staring at some ghost. Yes. And, if I’m correct, I have a feeling we’ll be able to do more than that.

He didn’t need to see their eyes widen and jaw drop to feel the incredulity that took them over. “What the fuck… You didn’t move or open your mouth during that…”

Diluc inwardly smiled at himself, a little proud at figuring out this much about what was happening before putting his faith in his theory once again and tried to push a feeling of confirmation towards them in reply. They jolted, clearly a reaction from receiving his message.

The ghost, despite the feelings of chaos, despair, shock, confusion, and a sort of budding clarity on the situation, pushed down the swirling in their chest and focused on Diluc.

They felt hesitant, he clearly sensed the uncertain budding of a thought, an idea through the bond, or mental link, or whatever the two of them had. It’s alright, just try it. I wasn’t too sure of… this myself but, here we are now, talking to each other in our minds. Telepathy, your world called it. He too was hesitant, but still tried to somehow reach out to them with his mind, attempting to encourage and to assuage their fears.

They nodded, to both him and themselves. “Okay. Okay… Here goes!” And Diluc was met with a face filled with so much concern and remorse as the thought echoed in their head. Am I possessing you?

He shook his head, to indicate a negative and to steady himself from the attack-like force that followed that question. The phantom squeaked. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Sorry that I hurt you! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!

Diluc waved them off, gently pushing their face away from his head. “It's fine, it's fine. I heard it both in here and out here the first time, it's alright.” How fascinating, that they could express themselves in both the mind and the body at the same time. He cleared his head as much as he could with this new occupant anyways, and went back to the situation on hand. “And to fully answer your question, I’m quite sure you’re not possessing me. You’re out there after all, and aren’t controlling my body.” Unless you can somehow control me remotely… Hrm, might want to explore that for later.

They nodded at his answer and at the future testing of his idea. “I believe that, instead of possessing me, you’re haunting me. Like how a ghost would haunt a house or object, I would say that this is something more akin to that.” “Yeah, that… that makes sense.” How would it even work though? I remember stories where ghosts can’t leave the houses or areas they’re haunting and the object thing is a little closer to possession since the ghost is inside the thing. Well, not always– sometimes they can have an aura or whatever that just makes whatever the fuck it is give out Major Bad Vibes.

Diluc could only sigh at the questions that now plagued both of their existences, and practically lied down on the floor of his bathroom as he slumped. “Ah! Oh shit, right! I fucken– woke you up with me horribly dying! Sorry, sorry. Lemme just– if I could just–” They picked him up from the cool tile of the floor, or at least tried to. It wasn’t that they couldn’t touch him like how they practically phased through every surface of his house that wasn’t the floor, might have to explore that, how interesting it was just that the ghost was still subject to the laws that made up this world, for some reason. Like weight, and gravity. Meaning, that they were subject to the ordeal of lifting a large, heavy man on the floor.

“Dude, you are built like a fucking rock! What the,” they panted, pausing for breath. WHY THE FUCK DO I EVEN NEED TO BREATHE– “What the fuck does Adelinde feed you?!”

He grunted, moving to stand with their help. “A healthy diet and lifestyle.” Thanks. No problem. “Just–Just bring me over to the sink. The, the sweat and the, the bile–” “Don’ worry, don’ worry, I get it. I get it. I know.” Can’t possibly not know with the whole– clown to clown communication goin’ on. Diluc suppressed a heavy shudder of amusement as he freshened up. If I was gargling this, you would’ve made me choke. The ridiculous image was still as clear as day in his head. Was he getting infected by this ghost’s brain?

Oh my god… Oh my god, the clown to clown communication meme made you laugh– hOLY SHIT AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA– omg, wait– does this mean?!–

“Please test whatever–mind link we have tomorrow, I’d still like to get some sleep.” Diluc muttered, spitting his gargled water and wiping away the wetness of his face. You were the one who woke me up after all, intentionally or not.

Sorry again about that, hehe… They bashfully scratched their head, following an exhausted Diluc slowly ambling towards their bed. They pulled back the covers before he could get there and tucked him in, to both save him the trouble and as a gesture of apology. He didn’t think there was anything to forgive anyways– their death wasn’t their fault and this situation wasn’t their fault either. Diluc dismissed the tiny threads of self-blame from his psyche before settling in to sleep.

“Oh, I… almost forgot.” a yawn escaped his lips. “What’s your name?” I can’t keep calling you ghost or phantom forever. “O-Oh, my name? Right uhm… you can call me (y/n)”

---

Aaaaand thats a wrap! For the first part at least lol. The next part is gonna focus a little more on the details of diluc and y/ns situation and maybe also explore how theyre gonna like-- deal with other people now that theres just Another Guy permanently stuck beside diluc hehe

dw, i will get into the whole dr. jekyll/mr. hyde thing but we'll need to make a foundation before we can make a house, right? :))

I have A LOT of plans and ideas stewing in the brain for this au and i cant wait to write and show it to yall! Even if noone looks at it because i am living my best life by making these AHAHA

See ya next chapter!

NEXT

[snelbz]

The Ranch {7}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ x @tacmc​

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: We are absolutely blown away by how much y’all enjoy this story. We’ve loved writing it for you and we get just as excited for a new chapter as y’all do! Enjoy. xx

The Ranch Masterlist

Nesta hated going to school.

She felt so overwhelmed, so crowded, so completely lost in the sea of people that filled the halls of Velaris High School. Elain and Feyre had always found their place within those halls fairly quickly, absolutely, but Nesta floated. She went from one class to the next, sticking her nose in a book every chance she got. She didn’t make friends. Didn’t have acquaintances.

She did have one go-to, but he didn’t go to VHS. He was in the next town over. 

Tomas Mandray.

As soon as she sat down at her desk in algebra, she pulled out her phone. She had three missed messages.

10:31 - Hey. I’m planning on picking you up later. 

10:42 - We could stay in, if you want. (;

10:56 - I’ll be out of town this weekend, so spend time with me now.

At first, Nesta almost didn’t reply, but then she typed back, I’ll be ready at 7.

She hated that she loved Tomas Mandray. 

———

At seven o’clock on the dot, there was a knock on the front door of the house.

“That's Tomas, I’ll be home later!” Nesta hollered, trying to get out of the house before her father could drag her boyfriend into another conversation about the merits of a lightweight rope versus one with more snap.

“Hold on just a minute!” Isaac called, coming from the kitchen. “That boy is headed to Guthrie this weekend.” Nesta groaned as she pulled open the door and her father practically yanked him through the threshold. “You planning on bringing home a buckle?”

“Yes, sir,” Tomas smiled, shaking his hand. “Always.”

Isaac nodded and said, “Damn straight, I remember my trip to the National Championship, granted, I rode Broncs, mind you, but-.”

“Dad, we have to go. We have reservations,” Nesta coolly lied. “I’ll be home around 10:30.”

Her father waved her comments off. “Nah, don’t worry about a curfew tonight.” He rested his hands on Tomas’ shoulders. “It’s not everyday your future son-in-law makes it to the National Junior Rodeo Championship.”

Nesta’s cheeks burned. “Right. Well, we really have to go.”

She was hurrying out the door, dragging Tomas by the hand as she did so.

“Good to see you, Mr. Archeron!” Tomas called, as Nesta shut the front door behind them. “I like talking to your dad.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t,” Nesta said. She hated when Isaac talked to Tomas. He was so certain that he and Nesta would be together forever, and the thought often made her sick to her stomach yet hopeful at the same time. It was a strange combination. 

She climbed up into the passenger side of Tomas’s truck and leaned back as he took off. 

“I missed you.”

Nesta nodded. “You, too.”

He reached across the middle of the seat and took her hand. “So, will you be coming to watch me this weekend? It’s the National-”

“-Junior Rodeo Championship, yeah, I know,” she finished.

“Damn, what’s stuck up your ass?” he muttered.

“Nothing,” Nesta sighed. “I wish we could, but dad says we have two couples staying the whole weekend.”

As much as she hated to admit it, she was almost relieved when her father told her that a group of friends had booked the weekend last minute. The last thing she wanted to deal were the buckle bunnies in training that followed the rodeos around. She wouldn’t have to deal with the cheap beer and the greasy food and tobacco spit and the blood and sweat and (usually) tears.

His thumb rubbed a circle into the back of her hand. “Well, maybe just you could come. You could leave with me after lunch tomorrow. You know your dad would sign you out.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, they need me to cook for the guests.”

It was true. No one else in the house had an ounce of culinary ability, and it just so happened to be Nesta’s favorite thing in the world.

Tomas frowned. “No one else can cook for the guests?”

Nesta shook her head. “None as good as me. Besides, I love cooking.”

“Cooking is a stupid thing to love,” Tomas said, and Nesta stilled. “Why cook when you can come watch me win a national title?” 

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have an answer that would please him. 

“Besides, after we graduate, you’ll be coming with me on the road all the time,” he went on. “May as well get used to it now.”

“I’m not sure I want to go on the road all the time,” Nesta said. “You know it’s my dream to open my own restaurant, I can’t really do that if I’m travelling with you.”

Tomas shook his head, laughing quietly. “Come on, Nes.”

“Come on, what?” She asked, turning to look at him. “It’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. Is my dream not as important as yours?”

“Of course not, that’s not what I’m trying to say, babe. It’s just,” he reached over and skimmed his knuckles across her cheekbone. “If you stay here and open a restaurant, and I go pro, we’re never going to see each other.” They came to a stop at a red light. He turned to her. “I love you. Don’t you love me?”

Her eyebrows furrowed. “Of course, I do.”

“Then you need to come with me. So we can be together. Promise me you’ll think about it.”

Nesta only nodded, agreeing that yes, she would think about it, but she already knew it wouldn’t happen. She wasn’t made for the rodeo life.

Just like her mother hadn’t been.

It was because of her mother that they even had the ranch, because she loved Nesta’s father, but didn’t love the city to city, night to night lifestyle he lived in the professional rodeo circuit. So after they got married, and Nesta was on her way, her mother had convinced Isaac to hang up his ropes and buy the ranch. And he’d loved it.

And it worked for them, Nesta’s parents. Isaac found his love in ranching, they got to be together and raise their girls. But Tomas would never be that. He was too hard headed, too stuck in the rodeo life. He loved it, and Nesta had to admire that, but she didn’t have to give up her dreams for that admiration. 

She was going to become a chef.

She was going to stay put, in the city, or maybe go somewhere like Paris or Barcelona or Tokyo. All she knew was that the last place she wanted to be was stuck in a truck, driving from city to city for the fucking rodeo.

She just didn’t know how to tell Tomas that, because Tomas never accepted an answer that wasn’t the one he wanted to hear.

Nesta was so caught up in her own thoughts that it took her nearly fifteen minutes to realize they weren’t on the way to the restaurant. But it took her only a few seconds later to realize where they were going. “Tomas, please, not tonight. We can’t have one night without it?”

He gestured to the arena. “It’s a round robin, babe. I’ll run eight head max and walk out of here seven hundred dollars richer.” Nesta only rolled her eyes and looked out the window. He went on, “Plus, I heard from Beron there will be sponsors here tonight. Granted, they’re here for some big headed jock from VHS, but once they see me, he won’t matter.”

Nesta stopped listening, but subconsciously, she knew that Tomas talked until they parked.

“You don’t even have your horse,” she said, as a last ditch effort. She knew this fact hadn’t somehow escaped him, but she didn’t understand what he was hoping to accomplish by being here without Rain.

“Oh, I’m buying one,” he laughed, as if that was such a minor thing to forget. “Yeah, that’s the whole reason we’re here. So, I can test out this horse. If she’s got some crack to her, I’m not putting a national championship on the line.”

Nesta couldn’t believe him. He’d taken their last night home together and hijacked it.

Pulling into the dirt lot, Nesta breathed a heavy sigh. Tomas hopped out of the truck and reached into the backseat, grabbing a beer out of the cooler and popping the top. She laughed  incredulously. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you something, too,” he smirked, lifting the wine coolers out of the ice. She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t that she was looking to drink, too. It was that, once again, she’d been overshadowed by roping. “Come on, I gotta go warm that horse up.”

“I’ll be right there,” Nesta said, pulling her phone out of her pocket and dialing her sister’s number. “I need to ask Elain something real quick.”

“Alright, well, hurry up,” he said, smacking the roof of the truck. “I want you to get some video of me I can post.”

Grinding her teeth, she nodded, and put the phone to her ear. Tomas shut the door and Nesta lowered the phone back to her lap, never even having pressed the call button. She looked out the truck window, out over the fields, that rolled on and on, and just saw...nothingness.

Without thinking about it, Nesta hopped out of the truck, threw her purse over her shoulder and began walking towards the road.

The rustic back roads of Velaris weren’t lit with street lamps, so she pulled her phone out and used it as a flashlight. After about fifteen minutes of walking, her phone died and she was left in the dark.

An older truck, heading in the direction of the arena, stopped when they saw her walking along the side of the road. An unfamiliar voice called out, “Hey, are you okay?”

She didn’t answer.

“Miss? Do you need a ride?”

She kept walking and ignored the  truck, passing it and disappearing into the darkness.

———— 

At quarter after midnight, Nesta finally walked up the worn wooden steps of the ranch house. Her phone had been dead for hours and by the time she reached the city, she knew her family would be asleep.

She wondered if Tomas had noticed her absence. She wondered if he’d tried to call her.

She unlocked the front door and crept in, trying to miss the creaking board by the living room doorway.

“That you, Nes?”

She sighed, hoping he wouldn’t come into the foyer, where she stood with one door already on the first step. “Yeah, dad.”

He groaned as he sat up on the couch. “Tomas with you?”

She swallowed heavily. “No, sir.” She started to ascend the steps. She looked like shit, he couldn’t see her like this, covered in dust and who knows what else. She didn’t want to tell him what happened, didn’t want to deal with him telling her that Tomas was the best thing to ever happen to her. “I’m tired. I’m going to bed. Goodnight.”

She hurried up the stairs and shut her door with a soft click.

Begging herself not to cry, she slipped off her clothes and slipped into a cozy pair of sweatpants and a tank top. She should take a shower, but she didn’t want to wake her sisters by turning it on. So, instead, she trudged across the hall, into the bathroom, and wiped herself off with a wet cloth.

All she had wanted was one thing: to go to a nice dinner with her boyfriend. Instead, she was left alone for the night in a place that she hated, expected to cheer Tomas on in a sport, in an environment, she couldn’t care less for. 

And Tomas didn’t even seem to care or notice. At least now she would get a weekend alone, a weekend spent in the kitchen, a weekend creating dishes that people would praise her for. And it wasn’t that Nesta needed the praise, but when her world revolved around Tomas’s accomplishments, it was nice to be the one appreciated for once.

When her phone finally booted up, she didn’t have a single text from Tomas.

—————

Friday went by pretty uneventfully. She was exhausted, yes, but she was mostly distracted by the fact that Tomas hadn’t responded to her text message that morning.

She had bumped into someone in the halls, between economics and chemistry, and after she’d apologized, he’d stopped her and asked if she was alright. His hazel eyes were bright and his voice was kind. She’d given him a quick nod and gone on her way.

After school, she went straight to the store, gathering ingredients for delicious baked goods and savory recipes she’d been dying to try. Just as she was getting into a good mood, excited to bake for hours on end, she got home, and that mood went straight to hell.

“We’re going to surprise Tomas.”

She had just set her bags down on the kitchen counter when she froze, her father’s words making her smile fade into nothingness. “What?”

“I’ll drive you down, go pack,” he said, waiting for her to be grateful. “Tomas wanted you to go so badly, and I know you want to be there to support him. So, I worked it out, bought tickets, booked a room….Come on, Nesta, take a little roadtrip with your dear old dad to support your boyfriend.” 

Nesta frowned. “I- I can’t. I just bought all of this to make for the guests-.”

“I called your aunt to come stay with your sisters and take care of the guests,” Isaac replied, beaming. “Come on, Nesta. This could be life changing for him, which means it could be life changing for you. You want to be there, don’t you?”

No, she thought, she absolutely did not want to be there.

She was fairly sure, if Tomas lack of communication was any indication, that he didn’t want her there either.

“I can’t, dad,” she said, grasping for any chance to get out of this. “I’ve got a final paper due on Monday and I haven’t even started it.”

“You can work on it in the truck,” he replied, packing a cooler with the essentials - beer, of course - and patting the top of it when he flipped the lid closed. “Now, go pack. If we want to see the numbers ceremony, we have to leave before four.” He hefted the cooler up, and was out the backdoor, going to load it in the back of the truck.

Nesta sighed, knowing that her father was just as hard headed as she was. She wasn’t going to win this battle.

She dialed Tomas number one more time, seeing the other three times she’d tried to call him, unsuccessfully, and listened to it ring. When the voicemail started, she said, “Hey, it’s me. We need to talk about last night and I- I need to talk to you. Can you call me, please? I love you.”

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

It was a four hour drive to Guthrie, Oklahoma. Four hours to sit on her phone and scroll through her timeline. Four hours for her dad to listen to shitty music and act like this was a fun, little trip they were taking. Four hours to flip through recipe boards and save things she wanted to try next. Four hours to call Tomas with no answer on the other line.

Nesta couldn’t even lie to herself and pretend something had happened, couldn’t even pretend he wasn’t getting her texts or calls. He was still posting on Facebook, still sharing pictures he found funny, still going about like nothing was wrong.

And then, with a little less than an hour left in their silent drive, they blew a tire.

For the first time since they began their journey, Isaac’s smile faltered. They pulled onto the side of the road and Isaac turned off the engine. Nesta still had her bare feet up on the dash, still was scrolling through her phone when Isaac got out of the truck.

He was muttering something under his breath but Nesta didn’t pay him any mind. She was too bitter that she was there to begin with.

Maybe they wouldn’t have a spare and they’d be stuck there for the entirety of the weekend. With any luck, they would have to call Elain to come and get them and take Nesta back home.

That hope faded when Isaac pulled a tire out of the back.

The tire was changed, the flat caused by a deep gash from a nail they hit along the road at some point, and they were back on their way. It cost them nearly two hours, though, and by the time they pulled into the skeezy motel her father had booked a room in, the first night of the rodeo was all but done.

Isaac kept apologizing, saying they’d get to the arena early the next morning, that was she could find Tomas before everything began. Nesta wasn’t stupid though, she knew her dad’s old roping buddies were all here, all with their sons or daughters, if there were here for breakaway or to run barrels. She was sure he was excited to tell them that the up and coming Tomas Mandray was his soon-to-be son-in-law. Or so he thought.

The last thing she heard him say before he fall asleep was, “Man, I can’t wait to see his face.”

Yeah, she thought. Me either.

She didn’t sleep at all that night and when morning came she was completely exhausted. On top of that looming exhaustion, she felt nauseated at the thought of Tomas seeing her. She had called him once more before she’d “gone to sleep” the night before but got his voicemail, once again.

As Nesta hopped into the truck with Isaac, she thought she was going to puke all over the floorboards. Her father was so excited at being back at the rodeo that he didn’t even notice his firstborn's silence or discomfort.

Nesta hated him for that, hated him for not noticing, for not listening.

She hated him for forcing her to be here, for forcing her into this life, just like he had her mother.

Tomas was just like her father.

And her? She was just like her mother.

Two people who were attracted to one another but shouldn’t have a future together, because that future would be shit, no matter how hard they tried.

By the time Isaac parked their truck, Nesta was paralyzed. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think, could hardly breathe.

Perhaps she should be the bigger person. She should go and find him, apologize, and tell him good luck. But even though that’s what she should do, the thought had her hands shaking at her sides.

You can do this, don’t be an idiot, she told herself. She should consider herself lucky. At seventeen, she had found someone who loved her.

At least, he told her he did.

Until he got pissed and stopped answering her calls.

“Coming, Nesta?” Isaac asked, grin wide, tapping on her window. He was ready to go dwell in his safe haven. Nesta had to follow him. She was his excuse to be there, after all.

She nodded, and took a deep breath before opening the passenger side door and hauling herself out.

Nesta and her father gave their tickets to the man at the door and walked in. Isaac stopped and stood there, breathing it all in.

All Nesta could smell was horse shit.

“Isaac Archeron, you son of a bitch, what are you doing here?”

With that one sentence, her father was whisked away, into conversations with his old rodeo friends, seeing people he hadn’t seen since before Nesta was ever even thought of. And she was on her own.

Nesta sat down in the stands. She fiddled with her phone, not wanting to scroll through Instagram for the fiftieth time that day, but having nothing better to do.

Until her phone rang.

His name flashed up on her screen. She’d been trying to get in touch with him for three days, yet now that he was calling her back, she couldn’t make her hands work, couldn’t remember how to swipe her finger across the call to answer the phone.

She answered, but her voice was hesitant as she said, “Hello?”

“Nes? Hey, sorry, my phone hasn’t been working.”

Bullshit bullshit bullshit.

“It’s okay,” she lied. She stood, walking down the bleachers and looked towards the entrance. Her father was still where she’d left him, telling war stories and talking about the good ole days. She could see the stables behind a tarp with the rodeo association's name on it. She asked, “Are you warming Rain up?”

“Nah, he’s good to go. I got a ride in this morning. Just getting him brushed down.”

He hasn’t said a single word about her leaving the other night. Had he not noticed? Was she that insignificant that he hadn't even realized she was gone?

“Well that’s good.” She sighed. “Can we talk for a-?”

He cut her off. “Hey, babe, I gotta get going. Wish me luck?”

“Oh, I- Okay. Good luck,” she said. “I love you.”

“Yeah, you, too,” he said, already pulling the phone from his face. “Bye.”

Nesta stood still as the line went dead. With a deep sigh, she shoved her phone into her pocket. He must be getting ready to make his debut for the day, maybe she would be able to catch him, surprise him, before he went. 

He wanted her to wish him luck.

Maybe she would, if only she could catch him in time.

She wandered around the bleachers, dodging people who looked like they lived and breathed watching underage rodeo championships. 

She had never seen so much hype. The rodeo was somewhere she hoped to dodge as often as possible even though, obviously, she wasn’t always blessed enough to do so. 

Either way, she continued on her journey to finding Tomas, but she came up short.

Looking down at her tennis shoes, which were covered in dust and dirt, she scolded herself for not packing different shoes. Not only were her sneakers filthy but her feet hurt like shit from all the walking. 

Another name was called to get on deck, but she didn’t hear Tomas’, so she went on her way. Maybe he was off somewhere trying to clear his head.

With that thought, she went around to the back of the bleachers, where trucks and trailers were lined up. She passed people laughing and celebrating in deep conversation, but they all ignored her, thankfully.

She turned the corner at the end of the row, though, and froze.

She had found Tomas, but he wasn’t getting ready.

At least, he wasn’t getting ready alone.

His lips were stuck to a girl’s neck, whose head was thrown back, her eyes closed. He was palming her breast beneath her tied up flannel shirt. 

Nesta tried to say something, but she had once again been paralyzed, frozen in place.

“‘Scuse me, ma’am.” An older man leading a horse stepped around her, and the horse whinnied as it passed.

The sound got Tomas’ attention.

His eyes went wide as he saw her standing there, in the doorway to the stables. He blinked a few times, and the girl didn’t realize their fun was over. Her hands roved over his body and she kissed his neck. Nesta began to shake her head and walk away.

“Ne- Nesta, wait!”

She turned and it took everything in her not to break into a run. She wanted to leave. She wanted to vomit. She wanted to scream.

She wanted to cry.

Her entire future, that stupid future she was dreading so much, but the only plan she’d ever had… it was gone.

“Baby!” His voice was much closer than it had been and his hand closed around her wrist. “Baby! Baby, baby, baby. Hey, it’s not what it looks like.”

Her voice was small, but she said, “Get your hands off of me.”

He didn’t. Instead he gripped her shoulders and said, “Whatever you thought you just saw, I promise you’re wrong.”

“It’s a little hard to misinterpret that,” Nesta snapped, snatching her wrist free. “You ignored my calls. Made me feel like shit for the other night. And while I was feeling like shit...you were getting….” Nesta’s words trailed off, and she laughed, loudly, humorlessly. “Fuck off, Tom.” 

“Hey,” he begged, brushing her hair back, the hair that had come undone from her ponytail. “Don’t do this.”

Nesta hated herself for crying in front of him, for shaking her head, for taking a step back. “It’s over. I never want to see you….never want to see you again.”

Her voice broke, and that only made the pitiful scene worse.

Nesta Archeron walked away from Tomas Mandray, and she never wanted to look back.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Anything can be our pet.

The shuttle gently glided down from the sky and rolled across the runway at the spaceport, the heat from reentry still fresh on its hull giving it a near mirage appearance to the waiting ground crew that were rushing over.  The coolant trucks pulled up one by one and the ground crew attached their hoses to them and began spraying down the shuttle as the disembarking tunnel attached itself to the side hatch.  A few moments later the hatch opened and the passengers of the shuttle began piling out. A large Draxic male, a lizard man like species, crouched down through the tiny door frame and entered the tunnel followed by a spry human female. Some of the other passengers hurriedly stepped aside as the Draxic stomped past while the female followed behind embarrassingly smiling and apologizing. She quickly walked up to the Draxic and kicked him in the leg. “What was that for?” He spoke, his lizard eyes narrowing down at her pouting face. “You shouldn’t be pushing past people.”  He tilted his head to the side. “Then they should move out of the way faster. They haven’t been crammed into a seat half their size for the twenty solar hours” As if to emphasize his point he rose to his full height and extended his legs, the sound of creaking bones resounding through the tunnel.  The human crossed her arms and continued pouting. “It’s still very rude.” The Draxic looked at her for a moment longer before grunting and continuing along his way.  She no doubt thought that he was agreeing with her, but in reality the mixture of smells emerging from the world, the cooling shuttle behind them, the various mechanical machines around him, and even the other humans on the plane was beginning to make the Draxic sick. He wished for nothing more than to get to his friends home were hopefully the smells would diminish. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------  The world was known as Typhon Socundus, an ocean world whose entire landmass could be summed up as less than the country formerly known as the “People’s Republic of China”.  The largest of the islands held the spaceport that the duo had exited on, while the rest was scattered around the planet forming smaller islands and island chains   Because of the reduced landmass the planet’s population had been kept considerably smaller than other galactic worlds. Some had tried to create floating cities that glided across the waters in an attempt to increase the population, but that en-devour had ended rather shortly for reasons which seem obvious now to those who call the world home.  ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Draxic gripped the side of the boat tightly as his friend steered the small “dingy” towards her families island. The sea was calm in every direction and the sky was as crystal blue as the ocean water themselves.  When the Draxic had heard that his friend owned an entirely island he was impressed as the land rights of the world were highly sought after. The land was given to her family several generations ago she said because since the time of her great grandfather her family had provided a “crucial” service to the planet’s government. What that service was exactly she had refused to tell him, saying seeing it would be far better.  So caught up in remembering how he had been roped into taking his vacation with her he nearly failed to notice the boat slowing to a near complete stop.  “Why have we stopped?”  he asked his friend as she turned around from the steering wheel and opened a nearby crate that he had been resting his feet on.  “This is part of what I wanted to show you.” she said while digging through the crate before pulling out a small package. She turned to unwrap it and though the Draxic could not see the package he could smell the mixing stenches of meat . “Besides, if I didn’t do this they’d probably wouldn’t let us pass.” Before he could inquire as to what that meant she chucked the contents of the package far out into the water.  The contents hit the water and sunk beneath the calm waves. “What was-” the Draxic begun but stopped himself when he felt something. His keen senses felt something from far away sending ripples through the water and nudging the boat. He stepped to the side of the boat and began scanning the horizon.  He felt the ripple again but this time was able to judge the direction and gazed across the water. Far off in the distance, as far as his eyes could clearly make out detail, he saw the water begin to slowly become wavy. Starting small, the waves quickly grew in intensity until the waves were radiating outwards.  “What did you do?” he spoke as he turned to his friend. She was leaning over the side of the boat and tapping the water with her right hand in a rhythmic pattern.  “If you didn’t see it with your own eyes I doubt you’d have believed me.” She continued tapping the water, unfazed by the growing disturbance of the water. “All I’ll say now, is don’t do anything. Just stand and watch, they don’t like new comers.”  A gout of water shot up into the sky where the Draxic had been focusing on. Emerging from the water loomed a massive form, a shadow that cut through the clear blue sky like an obelisk of darkness. The shadow dove back beneath the waves before he could get a clearer view but whatever it was was now speeding straight for them.  “By the seven suns! What is that!”  Whatever it was dove beneath the waves again and was hidden from his sight. He quickly stepped to the side of the boat and began peering into the waters below, but he could not pierce through the murky gloom of the water. ‘There you are silly boy, come to mama.”  At the words from his friend the Draxic turned and saw her laying her hand and head against what appeared to be a living wall of flesh and scale. An eye easily twice her size looked at her and the Draxic and he could sense the creature was that of a race of predators.  His eyes calmly looked over from left to right and saw that he was in fact looking at the head of a massive Wave Serpent, a creature rumored to grow for eternity so long as it feeds and strong enough to crush the hull of a space vessel as if it was made of paper.  The head of the beast slowly rose higher out of the water until the Draxic saw the mouth was wide open showing row upon row of teeth three times his size glistening in the sun light. He was left speechless as he came to realize that this must be his end and that he would be reunited with his ancestors in the eternal fields of war.  While he was transfixed with his imminent demise his friend picked up several more packages and chucked them into the gaping maw. The creatures mouth clamped down with a thunderous boom that knocked the Draxic off his feet. The boat bumped against the scales of the beast and his friend continued to stroke the scales and talk lovingly to the Serpent before it retreated beneath the water once more.  With the creatures passing she resumed her post at the helm of the ship and fired up the engine once more.  “First time seeing one up close?”  Her words seemed distant as the Draxic began to regain his composure.  “What......just happened?” was all the formerly proud warrior alien could say.  “My family raises Wave Serpents for the world.” She said as she steered the boat onwards. “That one was “Charlie” and I’ve had him since he was just an egg. He likes to showoff to strangers.”  “What do you mean by “raises” them?”  “When my granddad was young he came upon a Wave Serpent egg that washed up upon the shore. Since they grow up to be the size of spaceships he didn’t think the egg that was the size of a football was the same beast. He cared for the egg night and day until it finally hatched, he then cared for the little serpent every day. They developed such a close bond that it actually understood what he was saying to it which became mighty helpful when it grew to the size of a cruise liner.”  She steered the boat around an outcropping of strange rocks, but as the Draxic looked closer he saw that they were in fact spines of several slumbering Wave Serpents that were resting on coral reefs just below the surface.  Some he saw opened their eyes as the tiny boat passed their massive forms while others even raised their heads like cats finding something interesting before returning to their sleep.  “Eventually that little one grew so large it became the queen of her species on the planet. She returned to the island my granddad had raised her and laid her own eggs there. So several generations of the creatures grew up under the stewardship of my family.”  “But what does this have to do with the planet’s government?”  “Well, once the people in power learned that there was someone out in the back country that could tame the beasts that were sinking their cargo haulers they attempted to pay him to teach others. He refused to teach anyone outside the family, but agreed he’d start teaching the serpents not to attack ships if they give him ownership of the entire island.”  The Draxic looked stunned for a moment. “He blackmailed a planet’s government for a island?”  “My granddad was a nice man, but he was also a clever devil when it suited him.” she chuckled.  The Draxic pondered how she seemed perfectly fine around some of the galaxies deadliest creatures and even treated them like pets when something else struck him.  “What did you feed that beas-” “Charlie.” she corrected him.  “Yes; what did you feed “charlie”?”  “I gave him a mix of beef and chocolate. It was his favorite treat growing up and even though he’s so big now his taste buds can still taste anything that touches them, regardless of how big or small it is.”  The Draxic slumped back into the boat and watched as they neared the island she spoke of. Several serpents were strewn out across the island basking in the sun while several more circled it in the surrounding waters, nipping at each other to get closer.  He felt as if his vacation was about to become far more exciting than his lizardman heart would be able to handle.  

[silverstudios]

Orion, a Darksider story: 

Part 1:

She kept running and running, lungs burning from the smoke filled air and heart trying to escape her chest. The ground sizzles as she runs from the wall of what used to be her friends and coworkers, her own kind. The zombies shrieked and hissed as they toppled and tripped, but keeping pace with the terrified human. 

She flung herself around a corner,  hand reaching for the half emptied pistol on her hip when the world, once only filled with sizzling air and shrieks of the damned; Was filled with laughter. 

It was kinda nasally and high pitched, but it also kinda sounded like it was drowning in jello. Then came the shrieks of something, definfally not a zombie. The ground began to shake and a sharp scratching sound raced toward her, just as the zombies had managed the corner did the creature show itself. Twice her size and with the body built of a train, it was a miracle she didn't full fledged shriek in terror. She dived under the nearest car, covering her head and tucking her limbs close as if that would give her more protection. 

The zombies shrieked and the laughter grew louder and louder, heads and limbs going flying all around the car as this thing torn through the wall that had tormented her just moments before. 

And then it went quiet. She breathed as softly as she could, watching the outside of the car, watching the clawed feet and hands of this thing so that she knew if she had to run. And her heart fell as she saw it begin to twitch, for the once truck sized muscles to snap with sickly sounds and for it to be bent like a monsterest pretzel. At last, it fell to the ground and a soft laugh came from above. 

"So this is why we were kept on leashes! The council are nothing but Cowards!!" It cackled madly. She just gulped and started to back away on her hands and knees. 

CRACK

"OW!" She yelped, looking at the shattered glass and the shard impeded in her hand, then looked up as the car was picked up. 

The creature in front of her was startling. At first glance, it could be humanoid. But then the lack of a body half caught up in her brain, along with the 3 pale blue eyes glaring down at her and the missing mouth. It was spindly, frail looking, wings almost two small compared to all the other winged creatures she's seen during the end times. 

And had a huge shard of a sickly yellow Crystal coming out of the left side of its face, seemly coming out of three other eye sockets along with a darker...slime? 

At first, murder was written in its eyes, then shock. "Wait you're hu-!"

She didn't let it finish, firing a precious round in its general direction and then running like the zombies had returned. She heard it yell, the car making a horrible sound as it is dropped. She just ran, head down and praying she's to whatever god there is that she's faster. 

And to spite her, her wrists were grasped and dragged upward. She yelled and tried to pull them free.

"DAMMIT STOP FIGHTING!" She looked up, the thing above her with teal to yellow...Threads? Attached to its fingers. The same threads wrapped around her wrists and that held her now at least 5 feet off the ground. "CALM THY SHIT, HUMAN!" 

"I'D RATHER NOT DIE TODAY, NO THANK YOU!" She yelled back up, blinking as this thing snorted. She looked down and squeaked as the ground got further and further away, looking back up the creature seemed to smirk without a mouth. 

"Where are you taking me!?" 

"You'll see, human!" That wasn't comforting in the slightest, and her arms were already starting to burn with being forced to hold her body weight. 

…

She almost gasped with relief as she was finally freed from the threads, arms falling limp at her side. The place was an old luxury apartment, tattered silk window drapes and tarnished silver features on shelves. In the center was what seemed like a nest, blankets and clothing weaved together, cornered by couches and chairs covered with stuffed animals. It almost looked cozy. 

"I thought all you mouth breathers were dead." She looked up at her kidnapper, it's head tilted to the side as if she was a cool animal at a zoo. 

"Well….I guess your source was incorrect." She mumbled, watching this thing as it fluttered back and forth. 

"I guess. The council must be having a hissy fit!" It laughed, wings twitching with glee. 

"...the council?"

"The charred council, they're a bunch of cowards!" It hissed, then floated to the nest and dropped. "And yet they have control over my kin…" 

She blinked, standing and slowly, carefully, approached. "Your kin?" 

"Oh right, you're human. You don't know shit." 

"Rude." 

"It's true and you know it!" It again seemed to smirk. She couldn't help the small grin. 

"Still, rude." It laughed, moving to sit up. 

"Anyway, I'm a watcher. My kin is a slave race to the council. Errand boys my spectral ass." She stopped, brow coming together.

"That's horrible. Why haven't anyone helped you guys?" It was the "Watcher' turn to blink. 

"Because no one has the balls to stand up to the council, not even the most powerful creatures in creation." She moved to sit at the edge of the nest, watching and listening. It might have kidnapped her, but at least it was answering questions. 

"I'm so sorry." 

"...Okay, humans are weird. That rumor is true." 

"Oi! We're not weird!" She crossed her still sore arms. 

"You give a shit about me and my kind! That's pretty weird." It crossed it's arms. 

She just went silent, staring at it. It hesitated, looking behind it. "What?" 

"Are...are you joking?" 

"No???"

"THAT'S BULLSHIT!" It yelped as she stood up suddenly, arms held out to her side. "You guys are living creatures too!! You should have the same respect as all living creatures! What the heck is wrong with these things!?" She could feel her cheeks light up with anger. It was weird to not feel fear or numbness after all this. 

The Watcher just stared at her, the slime twitching around it's wings and eyes. 

"....Yeah Okay you just be strange." It finally said, still staring. She just sighed and rolled her eyes, looking around before stopping. 

"Oh my god you see the stars!" She raced toward the hole in the wall, and looked up with the first smile in what felt like forever. The stars, high above the ruined planet and the smoke that once blocked her sight of them, shined and danced. She instantly spotted her favorite consultation. "You can see Orion!" 

"...Orion?" The Watcher had come over, head tilted and confused. 

"Yeah!" She turned to look at it, gently taking its hand and using it to point  out the shapes in the stars. 

"There's his belt" Draw a line straight sideways. 

"There's his bow and arrow" A crescent shape. 

"And there's the rest" The vague shape of a man. 

"...huh. that's...actually pretty interesting." The Watcher whispered. "How did you know about that?" 

"I used to love to watch the stars every night." She smiled at it, then blinked as she tried to pull her hand away. The slime had wrapped her hand it it's own hand. 

They both stared before the watcher bapped the odd substance, making it retreat. " I swear, it has a mind of its own sometimes." 

"It's okay….What is your name?" She glanced at it as the watcher scoffed.

"I'm not Panoptos, I don't have a name"

"Well, I'm going to give you a name then." She stretched and hummed. 

".....what?" 

"I'm going to-"

"No, no I heard you." It floats back back, shaking its head. "I just, What!? I'm a watcher! I don't-"

"You aren't just your species." It stopped dead in its tracks, staring down at her. "You are a living, breathing creature. I'm giving you a name, rather you think you should have one or not. " 

".....You're very stubborn, is that human thing?" She smirked and nodded, getting a quiet "of course it is" from her strange companion. 

"What do you like?" It looked at her, then glanced at the sky. 

"The stars. That's why I picked this place to be my...my...What do humans call it again?" 

"Home?" She shrugs.

"Yes, that. I like looking at the stars…" 

"...how about Orion? You like the stars, and I think it suits you." She smiled. It scoffed. 

"Whatever you say, human." 

"Well then, it's nice to meet you Orion. I'm Stella." 

[girls-scenarios]

Drown Me In Your Love

Idol: Irene (Red Velvet)

Prompt: An angst to fluff scenario where Fem!Reader is a siren who is in love with country-side!Irene from Red Velvet? One day when Irene comes to visit her cove for a we're-friends-but-we-both-secretly-want-more-and-it-always-feels-like-a-date-is-this-a-date? Sailors have discovered the siren reader and have her trapped in their nets to study her - unaware that she is drying out and dying or maybe not caring. Please and thank you, don't stress yourself if possible !!! <3

Writer: Admin Kiwi

A/N: I was suddenly inspired and then I wrote for five straight hours today to finish this. It’s very long, as you can imagine. Sorry this took us so long but I hope you all enjoy!

Warnings: Some cursing and minor violence.

♡ Tip Jar♡

Irene wasn’t sure how she’d explain herself if anyone asked her why, every Friday at noon, she took a break from her farm responsibilities, packed a lunch in her basket, and headed off towards the beach. Thankfully, there weren’t very many people that would care. She lived and worked alone on her small farm and cottage tucked far away from the small village, because that was how she’d always liked it.

People annoyed her; she much preferred the company and sounds of her farm animals, and the peaceful push of the wind against the mountain that rose up behind her home. Twice a week, a man in a truck picked up her goods to take into the market or to transport to the vendors in the city who sold handmade goods. She gave him produce, weaved clothing and blankets, and whittled wood carvings, and he brought her checks from the bank, and they spoke very little. She only made a trip to the village when she had to, about once a month. This was just the way she liked it. She had always hated speaking to others.

At least, she had until she met you. But you were different.

For one, you weren’t exactly human. When she’d first seen you during a walk on the secluded beach, she’d thought she was dreaming. A human-like woman with the long, blue-green tail of a fish. But you were very real and incredibly beautiful, and when the two of you had locked eyes, she’d fallen for you right then and there.

It hadn’t been easy to get to know you. You were wary, diving out of sight whenever she stepped closer to the water’s edge. But after weeks of trying, she was finally able to get you to trust her. And, as it turned out, she enjoyed talking to sirens.

It had been months since that first encounter. But as she headed down the long-forgotten path that lead her to her own slice of heaven, her heart still spiked in her chest, sending the butterflies in her stomach fluttering again. In the crook of her arm, she held her basket, packed today with sweet fruits from her garden and roasted sandwich with all her favorite toppings. Her long skirt swished at her knees and the wind caught at her hair as she descended the old stone steps to the beach and breathed in the salty scent of the ocean.

As soon as her sandal clad feet hit the sand, a familiar head popped above the water and she laughed, tucking her hair behind her ear and approaching the ledge against the rock wall that created the secretive cove.

“You look excited today,” she called, and a chirp answered her before you dove back underwater and resurfaced at the shallow end of the pool near the ledge, the furthest you could safely go.

“I am! I’m always excited on Fridays.” The word “Friday” still sounded choppy and foreign on your tongue: you hadn’t known what a Friday was until you met Irene. When you spoke, there was a musical, whimsical tone to your voice that made her chest twist. It was almost like the sound she’d heard in music boxes as a kid, but more unique. More enthralling.

“I’m excited too,” she said, placing her basket on the ground. In a moment, she was out of her long skirt and picking up her lunch again, leaving the garment laying on the sand as she walked carefully on the ledge to meet you. Once she was far enough out, she placed the basket beside her and sat down, slipping her legs into the water and grinning as you swam up and put your hand on her knee. Through the clear water, she could see your long tail waving gently, the golden stripes and spots that covered the scales bright even under water.

“What did you bring me today?” You peered at the basket, making Irene laugh again, kicking her legs slightly.

“Do you only get excited because of the food I bring?”

“No! Well, slightly.” You tilted your head, giving her a sheepish smile that showed your teeth, sharper than her own. She figured she should be afraid of them, but she wasn’t. “But I get excited for you too!” You rested your elbows on the ledge and pulled yourself slightly up, leaving your colorful tail in the water, and she wondered when she’d gotten so used to seeing the naked torso of a woman. Yours especially, glittering slightly as the scales that decorated the short fin on your back, the two fins on your side, and freckled parts of your stomach reflected the sun. Your hair dripped and stuck to the edges of your face and, without thinking, Irene reached over to tuck it behind your pointed ears and out of the way.

“Good to know,” she said affectionately. “Since you’re excited to see me too, I’ll tell you what I brought.” After a pause to make you let out a dolphin-like whine, she reached into the basket and pulled out your favorite: fruit. At the sight, you chirped again, splashing your tail, and she giggled as she opened the container and set it down on the ledge where you could reach it. “I knew you’d be excited.”

“I love fruits. I don’t get stuff like this in the ocean.” You happily began to eat, leaning your body against her legs, and she felt a spark go through her, just like she did every time you touched her. Swallowing, she turned to grab her own food and leaned back against the rock wall, looking up at the clear sky. For a moment, everything was silent other than the sound of the waves lapping against the shore, and she felt the exhaustion from hard labor making its way out of her shoulders. She loved her farm, but this…. There was something magical about this place. She wouldn’t trade this for the world.

“What’s the ocean like?” She asked you suddenly, looking out through the opening towards the vast sea beyond. You hummed a musical tune as you pondered her question, following her gaze.

“Wide open,” you answered finally, resting your head on her knee. “And endless. It feels as if you could swim forever and ever and never bump into land again.”

Irene shuddered at the thought. “That sounds terrifying.”

“For a human, maybe.” A smile played on your pink lips as you looked up at her. “But for me, it’s beautiful. I never have to worry about drying out. There’s thousands of fish and coral and things you would have never seen before. I’ve explored shipwrecks and I’ve found wonderful, strange things. It’s a beautiful place.”

“It sounds like you love it,” she said, then titled her head. “Then why do you stay here in this cove?”

“I go out into the ocean around here, you know.” You then giggled and the sparks were back, flying through her skin as she gazed at you, half in and half out of the water. “But I have something that makes me want to stay.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she blamed the sun for the heat in her cheeks. “And what’s that?” Her voice was soft, and as you locked your eyes with hers, she ran her fingers through your hair, enjoying the feeling of your toned stomach and breasts against her thighs.

“I think you know the answer,” you sung, before smiling and grabbing her hands. “Come swim with me, Irene.” Your smile was enough for her to let you pull her from the ledge into the water with a splash. The water was still shallow there and she emerged with a sputter and a laugh, kicking her feet underneath her and enjoying the cool relief of the water.

“I have to walk home after this, you know,” she complained, pushing her soaked hair from her face, but she was smiling and you just laughed your musical laugh, swimming in circles around her.

“You’ll be okay,” you soothed, right before flicking your tail and splashing her with water. She sputtered again and turned around, splashing water back at you with her hands. This just made you laugh again until she did it harder, turning her entire body. Then your eyes gleamed and you grinned.

“What-.” Was all she got out before you tackled her, and she gasped in air and closed her eyes before going under. She would have panicked, but your strong arms locked tightly around her torso, your tail moving between her legs, and the two of you emerged a second later, her arms wrapped  around your shoulders. She gasped for air and whined for the first time in her life as she wiped the sea water from her eyes. “I can’t breathe underwater like you,” she said, trying her best to sound mad, but failing as soon as she saw how close your face was to hers. It was just the two of you, floating in the middle of the cove in each other’s arms, and her heart began to pound. Pressed chest-to-chest against you, she could feel yours pounding as well, a flutter under your sun-tanned skin.

“Don’t worry, I wouldn’t let you drown,” you said, your voice barely a whisper, and she felt your breath against her lips. Once again, there was silence other than the tide, washing in and out with a tug at her body. Then you leaned in, and she let her eyes close.

Kissing you was not like kissing a human, not that she’d kissed many humans in her time. There was something different about you, about the way your lips felt against hers. They were soft, yet firm, and you tasted like strawberries and the sea. A spark ran through her body and made her shudder against you as your tail fluttered against her legs and your rough fingertips pressed under her shirt against the small of her back, a sharp nail pricking at the skin in a way that curled her toes.

When she pulled away and opened her eyes, she saw spots in the air and gasped for breath, her mind racing. She’d just kissed you. No, you’d kissed her. Oh god, she’d fallen in love with a siren.

“T-that was weird,” you said, tilting your head. “It just felt right to do.”

It was then that Irene’s stomach fell. She’d always heard tales of sirens drawing in humans but being unable to love. Was it even possible for you to feel the same way you did? Sirens and humans were different after all. And how would this even work? She couldn’t live in the sea, and you couldn’t live on land. She could never marry you like she might another human. She could never give you a home, or sleep beside you. Tears welled up behind her eyes as she stared at you and wondered how fate could be so cruel. You were the only one she loved, and yet she could not be with you.

“Irene?” You frowned and moved your hand up to brush away a tear, then stared at your finger in confusion. “What’s happening?”

Right. Sirens cried pearls. You would have never seen a human cry tears before. Shaking her head, she released you and quickly wiped at her face, taking a deep breath and forcing a smile. “It’s nothing, I just got water in my eyes. It’s past lunch and I have to go.”

You blinked, but released her when she pushed against you, turning to watch as she swam back to the ledge and pulled herself up. “Wait,” you said after a moment, following her. Your eyes were now large and round, staring up at her, and it hurt to look at you, so she busied herself with repacking the basket. “What’s the matter? You’re leaving so fast.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, and she meant it as her heart fractured in her chest and she picked up her basket. “I have a lot to do today, so I have to go.”

“Oh.” You were frowning again. “I’ll see you again Friday?” There was such hope in your voice, and Irene swallowed. Then she turned back and gave you a smile, knowing that she could never say no to you. Even if it meant ripping her own heart to pieces.

“I’ll see you again Friday.” With that, she waved at you and turned away, walking back to her skirt. To her normal, human life, away from you.

The walk back home was colder than usual.

-

Working on the farm kept her busy, at first. She could take care of her animals and weed the gardens and throw herself into her work to avoid thinking about you. She worked until her fingers and feet were sore and she dropped into bed, falling to sleep in an instant without any time to think about anything.

But you appeared in her dreams. Every night, she heard your twinkling laughter and saw your earnest eyes. And she couldn’t help but think about you as she woke up, her heart hammering as her lips remembered the feeling of kissing you.

Eventually, while drinking tea and looking out over her land, she gave in to the thoughts about you and let herself wonder. You had seemed so sad when she left. And you had been the one to kiss her. What did that all mean? What did the touches mean? What about the looks in your eyes and the gentle way you held her? Were the legends about sirens wrong? They had been wrong about you being evil: you were playful and mischievous, sure, but not evil. You didn’t want to eat her. Did that mean they could they be wrong about love too?

Her heart ached in her chest and she sighed, burying her face in her hands. She wanted, so badly, to see you again. Her fingers itched to touch you once again, to push your hair out of your face and to feel the scales on your stomach, the fin on your back. She wanted to see you smile that sharp smile that she loved so much, wanted to trace the glittering freckles that dotted your face. Most of all, she wanted to capture your lips again and hold you close. She wanted to love you. And she knew she wouldn’t be able to leave you.

But what could she do? Could she ask you about love? About the legends? About the kiss? If you couldn’t love, her heart would be broken. But if she didn’t ask and pretended not to love you, her heart would break anyway.

She breathed in and opened her eyes once again to stare out the window. The sun was setting over the sea, casting an orange glow over the countryside. One of her dogs barked and the sheep answered, and somewhere, the late-night insects were beginning to sing. Peace settled over the cottage, and she sipped her tea. She couldn’t stay away from you. If it was her fate to love a siren, then she would accept it. She would make it work, just like she’d made living alone as a woman work and owning a farm alone work.

Despite the evening calm, her nerves refused to settle down and she pushed the tea aside to pull out her knife and a piece of wood. The piece was rough against her hands but the hobby wove the tension from her shoulders through her well-trained hands. With a low hum, she started to whittle, letting her mind wander again as she searched for the seashell hidden somewhere under the bark.

-

When Friday came, she once again packed fruit into her basket before setting off down the path. This time, though, her shoulders were tense, and she wondered why. She had accepted her fate, so why was this cloud of dread still hanging over her shoulders? Was it because of the dreary weather? She tried breathing deeply as she walked down the path, but nothing helped the feeling of unease, and a frown settled on her face. As her foot hit the first stone step, she heard something and froze.

Voices.

Her heart stopped as a high-pitched squeak echoed from the cove. She’d only heard that sound once, but she knew what it meant. It was a sound of distress, and it was coming from you.

She dropped the basket as her heart came back to life and started to pound until she could hear it. Faintly, she could hear men’s voices, and when she stepped down a few steps to peer around the tall palm trees, she saw them: three sailors, and past the cove, a rowboat. Another squeak drew her eyes down to the feet of the three men and she gripped at the rocks, panic seeping through her body. You were tangled in a net on the beach at their feet, twisting and turning your body and trying to cut at the ropes. Each time you did, one of the men would kick at you to stop you, despite the smoke coming up from your body. The biggest man laughed as you hissed, while one of the smaller ones cursed.

“Damn it, she almost bit me!”

“You’re too jumpy, Tell,” said the laughing man. “What’s she gonna to out of water? She’s helpless now.” At his words, you hissed, and the smaller, one, Tell, jumped back.

“I don’t like this, boss. It reacts like it can understand us!”

“Don’t be stupid,” the third man said, “it’s just a fish.”

“Not like any fish I’ve ever seen,” the boss said with a chuckle. “It’s a fish that’s gonna make us a lot of money. First ever mermaid, caught by Captain Ellis, Tell, and John. What do you boys think of that?”

“I think she’d better be worth the hassle,” muttered Tell.

“Oh, she will be. Think of the money, men, think of the money.”

Irene swallowed and slowly backed up the stairs, her mind spinning as she tried her best not to breathe too hard. She could hardly think through the terror fogging her brain. You would dry out if you were left on land any longer. And those men! Kicking you! Who did they think they were? Anger flared up, joining the terror, and she clenched her teeth together. She had to do something…. But what? Working on a farm had made her strong, sure, but not strong enough to take on three sailors by herself. She had to outsmart them somehow, to distract them long enough to get to you. Her hand fell to her pocket and she pulled out the seashell she’d carved, along with her whittling knife. She would be able to protect herself with this. And the shell….

Slowly, she stood to her feet and crept forward. Past the beach was a dense patch of trees and other foliage that led to another, larger beach further on. If she could get the men to go in there, she could stand a chance of getting to you before they could come back out. Winding back her arm, she aimed at the trees, held her breath, and threw as hard as she could.

The heavy wood landed with a thud just inside the tree line, rustling leaves as it fell, and all three of the men turned to look. At that moment, your eyes met hers over the stone stairs, and you froze, realizing what she was doing.

“What the hell was that?” Asked the boss, frowning at the trees. Tell looked nervous, glancing between you and the end of the beach.

“You think someone found us?”

“Nah, no way,” said John, stepping towards the sound. “We’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“There is a port at a village not far from here. Could be villagers.” The captain moved up beside him and Tell followed behind, glancing around. When all three of them had turned their back to you, you quietly cupped your hands around your mouth, and Irene watched in awe as your lips moved, but no sound came from them.

Instead, the sound came from inside the forest. Singing.

“Shit, someone is there,” said Tell, and the boss turned around to shove him forward.

“Well then don’t just stand there, let’s go in there and find them!”

You changed the tone of your voice, and the men picked up their pace towards the woods. “Man, there’s two, that’s two voices.”

“Wait,” said John as they approached the trees. When he looked back, you’d gone limp again, and she once again found herself holding her breath. “Shouldn’t someone stay with the fish?”

“She can’t move. The net’s too tight.”

“Guess you’re right.” With one last look at her, they stepped into the trees, and Irene let out a relieved sigh. As quietly as she could, she bolted down the stairs and ran towards you, her now-bare feet making less sound in the sand. You let out a whimper as she approached, and to her horror, she noticed that the skin on your arms was glowing red. You were drying.

“Hold on,” she whispered as she pulled out her knife, deftly cutting at the ropes. Internally, she cursed, biting her lip as she worked. Why did fishing nets have to have so many pieces? She didn’t have the time for this. As she slashed at the lines, the net loosened and you were able to move enough to use your sharp nails and teeth against the net. Finally, it fell away, and she scooped you up in her arms. Your skin was hot to the touch and her heart pounded in her ears again as she turned towards the tide.

Just then, she heard steps approaching, and her heart dropped. They were coming back.

She moved as fast as her legs could carry the two of you, running into the water as yells echoed out behind her. It was harder to move the further out she got and the more the sand shifted, and she could hear the splashes of them entering behind her, but she couldn’t make out what they were saying, her head too jumbled up to decipher the words. All she had to do was get past the shallow end, if she could just-.

A hand reached out towards her shoulder, and your tail twitched back to life and slipped from her arms, your eyes flashing as they opened. Your hiss echoed through cove, stronger than before, and you wrapped your arms around Irene, diving backwards off the shallow end and into the ocean.

Water drowned out the noise and all she could do was hold her breath, squeeze her eyes shut, and hold onto you. Your body twisted and waved against hers and water rushed past her, threatening to sweep her away. Just as she thought she might burst from holding her breath, the water broke and the gasped in air, her body shaking and quivering from the fear. There was nothing underneath her and nothing around her but water and her eyes stung and she felt like crying, but you touched her face, your rough fingers gentle, and she opened her eyes instead.

“We’ll be safe,” you said, your voice quiet. The two of you had swam far out away from the cove, but when she looked around, she noticed a large ship floating nearby, and worse, the three men were rowing towards them. Her body began to panic again.

“(Y/N), they’re headed this way, what do we-.”

“I’m a siren.” Your eyes pierced through hers, suddenly cold, and she understood. “Cover your ears and don’t uncover them until I tell you. I won’t drop you.” Your arm was firm around her waist, and so she did as she was told, plugging her ears the best she could.

She watched, then, as you took a deep breath, and began to sing. She still hear, just a bit, and her heart tugged her towards you, so she pressed her fingers to her ears harder, humming softly to block out your voice. The men in the rowboat froze, then slowly began to row in sync, changing course to head for the ship instead of the two of you. She watched in amazement as the men, unblinking, climbed back onto their ship, leaving their rowboat behind. They were like zombies, mindlessly doing as you ordered them.

A moment later, the ship began to move. Slowly, at first, then faster as the modern motor kicked in. Still, you didn’t stop singing until it was just a dot in the horizon, and Irene was beginning to feel cold and lightheaded.

She blinked when you pulled a hand away from her ear, smiling softly. “They’re gone. You can uncover your ears now.”

“C-cold,” she whispered, her body beginning to shiver, out of its trance. In a moment, the two of you were beside the rowboat and you were lifting her over the edge and out of the water. The wood was warm, and a jacket was sprawled under one of the seats, which she gladly picked up and wrapped herself in. Both of you were silent for a moment, finally able to relax, before you started to push the boat, swimming back towards the cove.

“Thank you,” you finally said, and she turned back to look at you. Your eyes were earnest, and she swallowed, her heartbeat picking up again for an entirely different reason. “I would have died if you hadn’t shown up. You put yourself in danger because of me. I owe you my life.”

“I was so scared,” she admitted, wrapping the jacket closer around her. “But I couldn’t just watch them hurt you like that. I had to save you.” As the two of you entered the cove, she felt tears once again pricking at the back of her eyelids. “I guess this is it, then.”

“What?”

“You can’t keep coming here. They know where you are. Wouldn’t it be unsafe for you to stay?”

You stopped pushing the boat and swam around to the front, pulling your weight up on the side so that you were looking her in the eyes. “I’m not leaving,” you said with a determined stare, “and they won’t find me again. I told them to set sail for a mythical treasure, they’re doomed to wander the seas forever searching for something they’ll never find. They’ll never come back here.”

“You can do that?” Her eyes widened, and you grinned.

“Yep. Along with some other things. Don’t worry, though. I wouldn’t do that on you.”

“But they were able to catch you. Couldn’t someone else come and do the same thing?”

You shook your head. “They were only able to catch me because I let down my guard. When I heard someone on the beach, I thought it was you. I had been thinking about you all week, thinking about what we did and what you said. So, I wasn’t ready when they threw the net over my head, and I panicked. I can’t use my spells when I’m on land, I’m too weak. But you brought me back to the water, and we beat them together.” You grinned toothily, and the butterflies in her stomach started to flutter again, bringing heat back to her cheeks.

“Y-you were thinking about me?”

“Yes. Were you thinking about me too?”

Finally, Irene laughed, and a wave of relief washed over her. “I was thinking about you too, (Y/N). All week. I couldn’t think of anything but you.”

“What were you thinking about?” You shifted further onto the boat, your tail flicking excitedly in the water, and she smiled affectionately, leaning forward to brush your hair back with her fingers, just like she always did.

“I was thinking about our kiss, and how much I missed you. And how I love you.” There. She’d said it. Her heart jumped into her throat and she stared into your eyes, desperately searching for an answer.

She got it in your smile and giggle. “Is that what humans call this feeling?”

“You feel it too? I thought, I mean…. Not to be rude or anything, but we have a bunch of tales talking about how sirens can’t feel love.”

You scoffed and shook your head. “We can feel what you humans call love, but we call it something else. Love is when you want to mate with someone for life, right? And when your heart is happy around them, and when you want to touch them and hold them close and protect them, right?”

“Well, right.”

“Then we feel love.” You let out a chirp, similar to the one you always used to greet her. “There. That’s how we say love.”

A smile spread over her features, and the sun peeked out from behind the clouds. “That’s so cute!”

“Thank you!” You chirped again, then reached your hand out, touching Irene’s knee. “I love you too, Irene.”

In that moment, Irene found that she didn’t care about the specifics or the what-ifs. She didn’t care about the future. All she cared about was the warmth welling up inside her chest, and you. Giggling, she slipped out of the jacket and off the chair, bending down on her knees so that she could cup your face and kiss you.

Your lips still felt the same, except this time, you kissed her with passion, wrapping your arms around her shoulders and pulling her down into the shallow water once again. You kissed her as if you had been afraid you’d never kiss her again, humming a happy song against her lips as your hands held her tight. When she pulled away, you whined and leaned in again, capturing her lips once more, and she smiled into the kiss, allowing her hands to wander into your hair. She loved you, and you loved her.

And as the sun shined down onto the little cove and you pressed your forehead against hers, your chirps echoing off the rocks only for her to hear, the ocean didn’t seem quite as cold anymore.

[hopetofantasy]

‘Soft, sweet lips’

Part 2: "Your turn now"

Part 3: “Thank you”

A VDS FIC - PART 1 (fluff)

“We’re not playing David Bowie!”

Jens whined, staring intently at Sander, who was already scrolling through the playlist of his favorite artist. 

“You don’t have any say in this, bro. His car, his rules, his playlist.” Robbe turned around in the passenger’s seat with a huge grin on his face. “Just be happy that he wanted to do this.”  “Like he wouldn’t do anything for you if you asked him to. He’d probably spray an even bigger graffiti mural on the frikking cathedral, if you pouted long enough.” Moyo joked. He was sitting right next to Aaron, who was already fast asleep. Jens hated the backseat. It felt too crammed, especially with the sleepy friend drooling on his shoulder. 

This road trip wasn’t his idea. But he needed some fun time with his friends. Relaxing. No thinking. Because everything was too complicated these days. He desperately needed to get away. “You know, Jens, you’re just jealous I got this from my parents for succeeding my first college year. I bet you didn’t expect to be picked up in a brand new car, did you?” Sander replied with unnerving enthusiasm. He gave a red cheeked Robbe a fast peck on the lips. 

Jens looked down with an heavy feeling in his heart. 

He didn’t like the way they were so lovey dovey all the time. It made him feel lonely. He wanted someone to stand by his side. Especially lately. That’s why the last comment stung a little bit harder. He knew Sander’s parents were rich. He knew his home life improved greatly since Robbe came into his life. Robbe was Sander’s rock, Sander’s mom knew that. 

Robbe didn’t knew what was happening with Jens nowadays.

How his home was only getting worse. How his parents would never be able to buy something like a car. Their yelling was getting louder and louder every evening. Sleep was starting to be a problem. Especially because his little sister kept crawling into his bed with the saddest face he ever saw. 

And then she would ask the same question over and over again. 

“Are mommy and daddy getting divorced, Jens?” 

It broke his heart every damn time. 

He didn’t want to think about that now. He shook his head to clear the thoughts.

Jens wanted to be happy. So he put on a fake smile and grabbed Moyo by his wrist. This startled his friend for a second. 

“Yo, bro, did you bring the weed?” 

“Yeah, ofcourse, I’m not an idiot.” Moyo replied. He pulled out the bag and started rolling. Meanwhile, Sander and Robbe were bickering about which highway was the fastest to take. Apparently they were going to a lake somewhere. Sander’s parents knew someone who knew someone. Which meant they could go to a lake house in the Netherlands without any reservations or payment. 

Suddenly, Moyo looked up at Jens with an uneasy smile. Like he felt that Jens needed a good conversation with a friend instead of some weed. Maybe he was used to reading his mother’s vibes and developed a sixth sense for mood-swings. 

“You ok, bro?” 

Jens sighed. He took the rolled joint out of Moyo’s hands and lit it up. “I am now.”

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

The sun was already setting when they arrived at the lake house. Five hours later. The Waze app told them it should have took only two hours, but hey, it was Sander at the wheel. He knew all of the fastest routes in the Netherlands, he exclaimed. He’d already been there multiple times, right? What could go wrong? 

“So now we know!” Aaron cried out loudly, while trying to pull himself out of the crowded backseat. Multiple bags of booze fell out of the car with him. The one on top made a loud clinking sound.  “Know what?” Jens asked. He checked the bag where the sound came from. Thank god, no jenever bottles were broken. 

“What a terrible driver Sander is.” Moyo laughed, with tears in his eyes. “You suck, man, I’m sorry for the examinator who gave you your driver’s license. He’s probably wondering right now what he unleashed on the world, by letting you drive.” “Hey hey hey,” Sander laughed. “The man was just too scared, he didn’t dare to withhold my license or I would've driven him into a tree, okay?!” 

Moyo was slapping his hand on Sander’s back, laughing out loud. They seemed to get along pretty well these days. They appeared to have the same, weird dark humor. Which was unexpected. He never knew Moyo had this totally different side to him, a softer side, until he surprised the boys a while back with his speech about bipolarity. 

But hey, at least Robbe couldn’t have been happier with this development. He was floating on cloud nine the last couple of months. Which Jens liked. He liked it a lot. A huge weight seemed to be lifted off the smaller boy’s shoulders. He was happier now. 

Robbe used to be so closed off all the time. Not communicating. Not acknowledging his own struggles. It was so difficult to get through to his best friend at times. Even when he knew that Robbe was struggling with something, he didn’t know how to pull it out of him.

Now it was the other way around. But, did Robbe notice? 

“Broerrrs, huddle together!” Robbe cried out. 

“We have three rooms in there. I guess Sander and I get one for ourselves.” His cheeks were starting to flush crimson red. “Since we... ehm... since we will -” “Yeah yeah, no need to explain, we KNOW.” Aaron sighed and rolled his eyes. They were all used to the couple’s public displays of affection. They almost barged into the bathroom during their session at a party. Thank god Sander was able to close the door within the millisecond. No need to repeat that, no thanks.

“But who will have his own room?” “Rock paper scissors?” Moyo proposed. “Sounds good to me!”

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

Well at least he will get a good night’s sleep. Alone, Jens thought, while looking down at his half empty jenever bottle. 

He was sitting at the very end of the campfire. The boys were all huddled on the other side. Moyo was telling the story about how he tried to kiss Noor at the Christmas party, which didn’t exactly end the way he wanted. 

Robbe was laughing along with his memories. He knew how Noor was wired. When Moyo made his move, Noor straight up laughed in his face while listing all the things she'd rather do before she would ever kiss Moyo. 

One even involved kissing Britt. 

Which still made Jens chuckle. 

Aaron was listening intently to every word Moyo said, like he was learning the expertise in how to pick up chicks. He’s such a dork, honestly. But you know, you can’t dislike him. It’s just how Aaron was. Dork and all. 

Sander, on the other hand, was much more peculiar. He was sitting the closest to Jens. Silently sketching some lines, which looked vaguely like the bike tunnel in white light? Jens couldn’t figure out what was so important about a tunnel .  

Every now and then, his mind wandered back to this strange boy with the bleach blond hair and black combat boots. 

You know, when his face was relaxed, he could see why Robbe fell for Sander. He wasn’t ugly. Plus he had a muscular body. Not that Jens thought about a boy’s abs or the way that made him feel. It was purely out of curiosity, ofcourse. Like why his best friend would fall for a boy. Jens could never imagine falling in love with a boy. Boys were different than girls. More muscled, more rough. More complicated?

He shook his head to rummage his thoughts. He was drifting away slowly, getting more and more drunk and high on the beat of music. Wait, what music? His hazy brain registered the song coming from the other side of the cabin. He didn’t know they had neighbors. Nobody told him about the other cabins. Why didn’t anyone tell him? He wanted to party as well.

Jens stood up with the bottle in his hand. Maybe the other people wanted to party with him. This group was getting boring anyways. The couple was slowly kissing while slipping away towards the cabin and the other two were laying on the ground looking at the stars. High as a truck. Jens rolled his eyes.

He stumbled towards the music. Why was walking suddenly so difficult? Walking didn’t use to be so difficult, right? One, two, three. Come on, Jens! One, two, three, four. 

Dancing on the beat, Jens slowly stepped closer to the other cabins. He recognized the song. He heard the laughter of a boy, teasing the other two boys by the choice of their music. “Come on, this is what you call music?” “Well, I’m sorry, we don’t all have the same taste in underground bands like you do, Luc. Please spare us some popular music.”

The boy laughed loudly. His soft curls were bouncing off his head. Jens' heart stood still for a second. Then the cute boy looked up and saw Jens staring at them. 

“Guys, I think we have a visitor.”

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

“So Jens-from-Belgium, what do you think of us so far? Were we very welcoming to a drunk stranger like you?” Kes asked while passing on his joint to Jayden. Lucas was looking at Jens, like he was a puzzle waiting to be solved. 

Jens laughed and looked down. An hour had a passed since he met these guys. He was feeling much better. Still a bit high, even though he was pretty sure the booze was already wearing off.  So why did he still feel this way? 

He felt Lucas’ eyes on him. Some deep soulful eyes. Beautiful eyes. He didn’t dare to look inside them. But he still wanted to. 

“Well, you all seem pretty awesome. Maybe we should all hang out tomorrow, get to know each other better?” The last part of the sentence was directed towards Lucas. The mysterious boy with the bouncy curls. 

He really liked this boy. He was different. Jens felt something stir inside him. He was nervous. He was feeling a bit queasy even. What if Lucas said no?

“Yeah sure. Tomorrow.” Jayden answered instead. “But tonight, I think I'm going to go off to bed.” Kes was nodding along. “Yeah same. Luc, are you coming?” 

Lucas was still looking at Jens with an intense stare. He shook his head, without saying anything. Kes didn’t seem surprised by his simple reaction and walked away. 

“So you’re not going with your friends?” Jens asked nervously. Lucas shook his head again and sat a bit closer to Jens.

 “Didn’t feel like it,” he muttered. “it's always the same thing with the guys. Drugs, booze, partying, girls. Sometimes I just want to sit, relax and enjoy the stars. Enjoy the music. Enjoy some good company.” His cheeks started to flush a little. 

Jens didn’t know how to answer this statement. He felt the exact same way. He wanted to talk, wanted to reveal his life. To this boy, to ease his pain. He wanted substance. But, instead of answering, he looked down. 

“You seem different,” Lucas remarked. “You’re not like the others. You’re not boring. You are you.” 

Jens looked up to the beautiful boy again. He was pleasantly surprised. Did Lucas just gave him a compliment? He seemed to be flirting with Jens, but he wasn’t sure. It was making him agitated and he didn’t know why.

“Well, I try. I don’t think I’m myself right now. I’m just...,” his voice faltered a little. His eyes felt teary. “Lost and lonely, I guess.”

“Lonely?” 

“Yeah...”

He waited for an answer, while looking down again. Maybe he went too far. He never opened up his soul like this before. Maybe the boy would think he was a weirdo. A loner. A loser. 

Then he heard a sound. Lucas seemed to be nudging even closer to Jens. He heard him sigh deeply. Like he knew. Jens felt an arm coming around his shoulders, pulling him into a hug. He didn’t want to hug this total stranger. 

But he did.

So he let himself go and fell into the much needed hug. It was so nice and comforting. They fitted perfectly together like puzzle pieces. Lucas touched his hair. Brushing it away slowly. A warm breath on his neck. He felt his heart beating against Lucas’ chest. The sound was growing louder by the minute.

Thump, thump, thump. 

Jens’ mouth felt like a desert. His hands were clammy. The butterflies in his stomach were twirling at record speed. He felt a hand caressing his cheek, nudging him to look up. The Dutch boy smiled a little. His eyes were blue windows, filled with only softness.

“Aren’t we all?”

He pulled him closer, noses slightly touching each other.

A hitched breath.

A heartbeat.

And then there were only pink lips. 

Soft, sweet lips.

[freebooter4ever]

Rubber Ducky Road Trip

Fun Fact: the rubber duck actually surged to popularity after WWII when a sculptor started manufacturing a cute yellow version of it as toys for kids instead of just dogs! Anyway, Joe’s photo with the weird creepy roadside giant duck statue? 100% inspiration for this. Thank you @badgerms​ for editing this for me!

Post War AU, Snafu still left Sledge on the train. One day Snafu gets it in his head to go see the newly constructed World’s Largest Rubber Duck on the side of the road somewhere in Oklahoma, and he decides to stop at Sledge’s first because Eugene’s letters say Eugene is taking up bird watching now, cause ducks totally count. Also they adopt a dog.

Snafu doesn't understand civilian life. The things most of his neighbors consider commonplace - well balanced meals, regular showers, polite conversation, underwear - Snafu no longer has the patience for. He was never a good civilian before the war, and he's an even worse one after. Not like Eugene with his perfect manners, and stalwart ideals, and easy conversation. If Snafu imagined a model upstanding citizen, Eugene Sledge's face was the first to pop into mind. A deep indefatigable ache came with it.

Eugene's face also brings to mind guilt. In two forms - one: guilt for having cut off all contact with him, and two: guilt for having had any contact with him in the first place.

Snafu doesn't kid himself - Sledgehammer probably would never have gotten through the war on his own. But Eugene Sledge always deserved better. Snafu knows Eugene got off that train to meet a welcoming party, exactly like Burgie. He'd been watching Eugene's face when Burgie hugged his little brother tight. Eugene was looking at them with understanding, empathy. He wasn't baffled by the scene, like Snafu was.

Snafu got off the train to nothing but crowds of strangers. He disappeared. And hoped Eugene would imagine a lie when he thought of Snafu. Maybe a father who stayed up all night just to be there at the station at three am, a mother who had food waiting just for him, a house warm and clean for his little sister to actually have a childhood in. Anything Eugene could invent is probably better than the reality Snafu never told him about.

When Snafu imagines Eugene's civilian life, he imagines white picket fences, and a hoard of smiling extended family wearing bright clothes in the sun, and lots of unnecessary hugs. That's where Eugene would fit in. That's what Snafu wants for Gene.

All the things a good civilian is supposed to have in their life. None of which make any damn sense to him. He's still young, which keeps off most of the pressure to become respectable. But he sees the odd looks thrown his way, he knows the talk. Every bit of gossip compounded now that he's a veteran, and suddenly that means his vices can be overlooked - that means he's eligible. But only if he keeps up appearances. Only if his nightmares stick to night.

What a joke.

He expounds upon this topic loudly and at length to anyone who will listen. Very often this means to his coworkers during after work drinks, sometimes over a game of cards. It doesn't make him many friends.

On one such night, a few years after V-J day, one of the coworkers tosses a strange yellow toy into the betting pool.

"What the fuck?" Snafu asks, snatching the thing up, "You trying to cheat us? Ain't no way this is worth anything."

Apparently, though, it is. The little yellow toy is called a "rubber duck" and it's the latest craze to hit the United States. The things are selling out everywhere, and they're on every child's wish list this winter. Not that Snafu would ever know what the latest trends are. He doesn't follow fads or styles. He understands them even less than he understands civilians complaining about things like slow service or cold weather. And this new yellow toy is the worst trend yet. Personally, Snafu thinks it's the ugliest thing he's ever seen - plus it looks nothing like any duck he's ever seen.

His coworkers laugh at him and chide him for being a confirmed bachelor with no kids at home throwing tantrums over toys. As if that's something Snafu could even begin to understand. This generation of children - demanding toys instead of being grateful for what they got.

He wins the card game and collects his money, but promptly tosses the duck to the first child he passes in the street.

Somehow word gets around that Snafu Shelton is giving away rubber ducks, because the next time he steps foot outside of his apartment, the grubby neighborhood kids swarm him like he's Santa Claus or some shit. He barely escapes with his life.

Luckily Snafu knows a friend in the rubber manufacturing business, and a week later a sack full of duck toys just happens to fall off the back of his friend's truck. Snafu distributes them amongst the neighborhood. It's not a free for all, he carries one or two around in his pocket and hands the ducks off to the weird kids. The small runty ones wearing castoff clothes too big for them, who come home from school with bruises and empty stomachs. Snafu remembers what it's like being small and watching fads pass by instead of taking part. 

So Snafu is less like Santa Claus and more like a kingpin throwing wrenches into the carefully balanced schoolyard popularity hierarchy.

This being a poorer neighborhood on the outskirts of New Orleans, no one really has the means to designate social status. It's all just silly things like who can afford something as small and inessential as a rubber duck and who can't. Snafu himself rents a shitty top floor apartment with a private entrance that doubles as a fire escape. It isn't so much an apartment as it is a room with a twin bed. But there's trees all around, and a big window at the foot of his bed, and a narrow decorative balcony (the useless kind not meant to hold humans - another part of life Snafu doesn't understand) attached to the window.

The first thing Snafu bought after the war, even before he bought a bed frame, was a beautiful stone birdbath. The kind like the one in the park his mom used to take him to. They'd sit on the park bench, and spend hours watching the birds splash around, and it bored Snafu to tears but it was the only time of the week his mom didn't cry so he learned to sit as still as he could.

Snafu put his brand new birdbath on his useless balcony and for two years every spring morning he woke with the sun, crawled down his bed, and watched the birds sing their thanks through the open window.

This year, as winter approaches, Snafu looks at his now empty birdbath and gets an idea. He didn't keep any of the rubber duckies for himself, but luckily his friend in the business has connections and manages to get him one extra. And Snafu's lonely winter mornings are assuaged when he wakes to see a friendly yellow face bobbing happily in the cold bath outside his window.

Snafu thinks he's simply cleverly besting migratory bird patterns until more yellow ducks start showing up in his birdbath. This time wearing hand sewn floral bonnets, or flower crowns, or top hats, or in one particularly painful case - a tiny toy army helmet.

The little neighborhood shits are climbing his trellis to his balcony and putting the damn things in there at night. Every couple of days the rubber ducks will disappear only to be returned wearing new themed outfits. When Christmas comes and Snafu wakes to discover he has a completely full bird bath containing not only a duck wearing a santa hat but also all twelve reindeer ducks - one of which has a painted red nose - Snafu finally admits this fad is here to stay.

And that is how Snafu becomes known around town as the weird bachelor who collects rubber ducks.

It gets so bad even the secretary at the lumberyard where he works saves him a newspaper clipping about a town two states over. The girl sneaks it to him during lunch and Snafu reads the article over his shitty thermos of soup.

The world's largest rubber duck is being erected somewhere in Oklahoma by some hodunk town hoping to put themselves on the map by throwing excess rubber, no longer needed by the war effort, into a useless vanity project.

Idiots.

A few days later Snafu is playing cards, and winning as always, when he finds himself rethinking his stance. He stops mid-sentence when he realizes he is having a conversation with his coworkers about ducks. And it's normal. And he doesn't want to roll his eyes right out of his head.

Maybe he is adapting to civilian life after all.

He collects his winnings and goes home. He ignores the New Years themed duck floating outside his window and goes straight to the crooked chest of drawers wedged in between his bed and the wall. He opens the top drawer, pries off the false bottom, and lets the stack of letters and all his life savings fall to the floor. He gathers up the letters carefully, leaves the money, and sits on his bed to read.

There are a bunch of letters - each addressed to Snafu in the same beautifully written cursive. The handwriting inside is neat, and elegant, and never strays from tight measured lines, as if the author places the blank sheet of paper over a lined page to use as a guide. If each letter wasn't signed with a no nonsense, perfectly legible "Eugene", Snafu would never guess they came from the same man he watched scribble away in a bible - writing that looked more like chicken scratch than actual words.

Snafu shuffles through the letters until he finds the one he's thinking of. Eugene's letters are full of normal things Snafu no longer relates to. They're artificially pleasant in the way of small talk, and say the kinds of things people who have nothing in common say to each other. Snafu doesn't like to think about him and Eugene no longer having anything in common. Whenever Snafu receives a letter, he reads it, feels his heart shrink two sizes smaller, and then slides the letter into his secret drawer to forget about it. If he hides it and doesn't reply he can pretend civilian Eugene would still care about him, no matter how all fucked up Snafu feels.

He never forgets what he reads though, and this letter in particular from a month ago details Eugene's new found hobby - bird watching.

Finally, they have something in common.

He scoops all his savings off the floor, adds his week's paycheck and tonight's winnings to the pile, and calculates how much gas he'll need. Then he fills up his truck, borrows a tent from his friend, and starts off down the road.

A day later he shows up on Eugene's porch.

He knows he made a mistake when a butler answers the door. It's shock that keeps him rooted to the spot for the few minutes it takes for Eugene to be called in from whatever activity Snafu interrupted. He knew Eugene was one of them rich kids, but a butler was beyond even his imaginings.

Shock keeps him there initially, but it's amusement that keeps Snafu on the porch when Eugene appears in the frame, takes one look at him, listens to Snafu's brief "I hear you like birdwatching" quip, and slams the door in his face without another word spoken.

Snafu can hear Eugene's mother's scandalized outrage through the walls of the house.

The door opens and an older woman with an aristocratic but comfortable air takes Eugene's place.

"I'm so sorry," she says, slightly out of breath, "Please, come in. Sit. I'll get you a glass of iced tea. I don't know what's gotten into that boy sometimes."

He and Mrs. Sledge exchange introductions, and she immediately recognizes his name.

"Oh, you're the one Eugene's been sending all those letters to," she says. She doesn't mention the tiny detail that Snafu never sends any letters back.

Snafu smiles and perches on a stiff chair in the parlor. He accepts the glass of tea, and drinks it to avoid awkward conversation.

Mrs. Sledge bustles around rearranging things to make more room, and also to avoid awkward conversation. "Eugene Bondurant Sledge!" she calls, "Get out here!"

Eugene obediently appears in the doorway, a petulant look on his face that Snafu knows well. Eugene's stubborn presence does nothing but force Mrs. Sledge and Snafu to carry the conversation.

"Your friend's come all the way from New Orleans to see you," Mrs. Sledge prompts.

Eugene remains silent. And standing.

"A stop along my way, actually," Snafu says. His charm is turned up as high as it will go. Partially out of respect for the mother of his best friend, and partially to see Eugene's blood pressure rise with every obsequious word out of Snafu's mouth.

"Oh, where are you headed?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Out aways, into the middle of nowhere. Woke up one morning and got it into my head I wanted to see the world's largest duck," Snafu may be talking to Mrs. Sledge but his eyes remain unwavering on Eugene.

"I dare say," Mrs. Sledge says, "And what  species of bird is this exactly?"

"Can't be sure, ma'am," Snafu says, "That'd be more Eugene's area of expertise."

"Well, how big is the world's largest duck?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Don't know, haven't seen it yet," Snafu drawls with a grin.

Eugene looks fit to burst.

"How far do you have to go to find this bird?" Mrs. Sledge asks.

"Just a couple of days drive, maybe a week round trip," Snafu says, "Was gonna ask Eugene if he wanted to come along."

"What a splendid idea," Mrs. Sledge is delighted, "Eugene doesn't have any plans scheduled for the next few weeks. It'd do him good to get out for a while."

Eugene's petulance slowly transitions to horror as the conversation goes on and he realizes there is no polite way to extricate himself from this situation without disappointing his mother terribly.

Which is how Snafu ends up with a silent and surly Eugene sitting next to him on the bench seat in his truck's cab and a basket full of gifted provisions neatly tucked into his truck bed next to his borrowed tent.

Snafu fiddles with the radio, switching stations whenever he gets bored with whatever murder mystery radio play or big band music is being broadcast until they drive too far out into the sticks to get any kind of signal.

The minute he switches the radio off, Eugene finally speaks up.

"Since when are you interested in birdwatching?" Eugene's tone is accusatory.

"It was kinda forced on me," Snafu shrugs, "Or I forced it on myself. On accident."

"And we're going to see the world's largest duck?"

"Ahuh," Snafu agrees.

"And where would that be, exactly?"

"Oklahoma."

Eugene screws up his face. He pulls the atlas out from underneath the bench seat, and flops through it till he hits the southeastern United States.

"Alabama is not in between New Orleans and Oklahoma," Eugene points to the map. As if Snafu doesn't know his geography and Eugene needs to prove to him the position of Oklahoma and Mississippi.

"Never said it was," Snafu says calmly.

"You said picking me up was a 'stop along the way'," Eugene argues.

"I said it's a stop along my way. Never said my way was the most direct."

Snafu keeps his focus on the road, but he can feel Eugene's eyes on him.

"Yeah? Missed you too, Snaf," Eugene says as if that answers an unasked question and settles more comfortably in his seat. He props the map up on his lap and traces the spider web of roads with his finger.

Everything goes smoothly the first day. They eat lunch on the side of the road. It's warm, and the heat of the truck's engine makes it warmer, but they prop the doors open to let a breeze flow through and make sandwiches from the food Eugene's mom packed. Snafu provides the desert. He brought a slender bar of chocolate, provisions in case Eugene turned him down.

Now he breaks it in half and shares it with Eugene and watches him suck melted chocolate from his fingers.

Eight hours of driving later when it's almost too dark to see they stake out the tent on a dirt field to sleep. Snafu tosses and turns until he rolls to face Eugene and finds wide unblinking eyes staring back at him. They decide sleeping on the ground isn't for them, and set the tent up in the bed of Snafu's truck instead. The wooden slats are hard and a little uncomfortable but it's different enough from memories that they're finally able to fall asleep pressed back to back.

The next morning is quiet, and still. They snack on fresh snap peas for breakfast and strike the tent in silence. They don't need to talk about it. Snafu senses Eugene's understanding. For once it's nice to not need to explain his particular brand of insanity.

Later on the road again, in between casual conversation, Eugene brings it up.

"Best sleep I've had in months," he says.

"Me too, Sledgehammer," Snafu admits.

On the second day it rains. At night they park at the edge of a small town in the lot of a gas station run by a friendly old lady who lets them use the outhouse on her property and the outdoor shower behind it. Snafu laughs at Eugene becoming so spoiled he needs daily baths now. And Eugene retorts that not everyone can have as nice of a natural musk as Snafu, and it's enough like a compliment to shut Snafu up quick.

Snafu leaves Eugene toweling his wet hair dry in the truck cab, and runs across the few feet of muddy gravel to use the outhouse. When he comes back he starts to hastily climb into the truck, but stops when he notices a strange shadow under the carriage hiding from the rain.

He reaches over the bench and pokes Eugene awake.

"Flashlight," Snafu whispers, gesturing to the floor.

Eugene hands him the flashlight. And then pulls the blanket over his head to go back to sleep.

Snafu crouches on the runnerboard of the truck to keep his feet off the ground for an easy escape, bends down, and shines the light underneath.

A head lifts up and a pair of reflective eyes look back at him.

Snafu flicks the light off, lifts himself back into the cab and digs through the picnic basket for the leftovers from dinner.

"Snafu, what are you doing?" Eugene complains from under the blanket.

"Just give me a minute," Snafu says.

He jumps to the ground and waves a bite of chicken to the darkness under the truck.

"C'mon, boy," he says.

It doesn't take much to get the big shaggy dog out from underneath the carriage and into the cab. Eugene gets a rude awakening, however, when the dog decides to make a bed out of his lap.

Snafu can see Eugene jolt awake, but instead of kicking the weight off his lap, he just shifts to accommodate it.

"Snafu, next time warn me if you're going to sleep on me," Eugene grumbles.

"S'not me, boo," Snafu says with a grin.

Eugene peeks from behind his blanket, sees the dog, and promptly sits straight up in his seat. He grabs his towel and starts drying off some of the water and dirt matting the dog's fur.

The dog chooses that moment to fart.

Snafu starts laughing at Eugene's scandalized face that looks so much like his mother's, until Snafu starts choking from the smell, and then he leans over Eugene to roll the window down. Just a crack, enough for fresh air but not enough to let rain in.

It's rather cramped in the truck cab, with the tent (more useful keeping out mosquitoes than rain), and the picnic basket, and the two boys, and the dog, but they manage.

Snafu wakes up to whines. At first he thinks it's the dog. It's the middle of the night, there are no street lamps all the way out here, and he can barely see. Until there's a jerk of movement on the other side of the cramped bench seat and the dog climbs over Snafu to shelter under his feet.

"Eugene!" Snafu exclaims. He takes Sledge's arm and then remembers what happened the last time he watched someone being held down mid-nightmare. He keeps a safe distance and says loudly, "Sledgehammer!"

Eugene snaps awake. He lurches forward, and stops when he sees Snafu sitting up and watching him.

Snafu takes his hand then. Eugene twines their fingers together. He's still breathing hard with his mind half out of this world. Snafu can see it in his eyes. The dog wanders over and places his head back on Eugene's lap. Eugene looks down, sees the dog for the first time since he woke. He turns to Snafu.

"I didn't hurt you did I?" Eugene asks.

"No," Snafu says firmly.

 Neither of them fall back asleep for a long while after that. 

The next morning the dog plods slowly along when they walk to buy groceries. He patiently waits outside the door for them to finish and plods along after them when they go back to the car. When they open the car door to wedge the grocery bag into the picnic basket, the dog jumps up and sits on the bench seat between them.

"I think you accidentally adopted a dog," Eugene tells Snafu.

Except it's Eugene who feeds the dog, and Eugene's lap that the dog chooses to sleep on most of the time, and Eugene who names the dog 'Fred'.

"What the fuck kind of dog name is that?" Snafu asks.

"Like you're one to talk Merriell," Eugene retorts. Eugene uses a fond tone for Snafu's given name like it's a good thing, and that throws him for a bit of a loop.

"Sure thing, Bondurant," Snafu croons.

Eugene throws a slice of turkey at Snafu's smiling face in response, which is a dreadful waste of food, but Freddie happily eats the discarded turkey and licks Snafu's face clean.

At one point the car breaks down. Fortunately it happens on a flat stretch of road so not only can they see the gas station in the distance, but it's also fairly easy to push the truck along. Snafu jerry-rigs a contraption to keep the steering wheel pointed straight, and off they go. The dog lumbers into the truck bed, watches them push for a bit, and then falls asleep in the sun.

When they reach the station, Snafu pays for use of the tools, but does all the repairs himself. The mechanic who runs the station is jovial and sharp tongued. He and Snafu trade stories and exchange barbs while Snafu works.

Eugene sits and waits in a camp chair off to the side, the dog in his lap and his fingers stroking the dog's fur. He watches Snafu with keen eyes, but doesn't say a word.

Snafu winks at Eugene when he peels his sweaty button down off and bends over the engine wearing nothing but his undershirt.

"Come on, Freddie, let's go for a walk," Eugene stands and leads the dog out of the garage.

They're not gone long. Fred isn't the 'go for a walk' type of dog. Eugene shows up again twenty minutes later carrying a large panting dog bundled in his arms.

"He got tired," Eugene explains.

Snafu hastily grabs a clean tin from the mechanic and fills it with water for the dog. When Eugene takes it from Snafu's hand, their fingers brush.

Snafu thinks about that brief second of contact for the rest of the day.

With the car up and running again, they finally reach their destination. It's around four pm, and the sun is beginning to set, but the baked dry land around them is still warm. The large rubber duck is not actually in town, though they have to drive through town to find it. The buildings still show the ravages of the dust bowl - peeling paint bleached by the sun, splintered wood, missing planks, weeds everywhere. Feels like home.

They take a turn onto a single lane of freshly paved road at the edge of town and drive to the end till there is nothing but fields around them.

"Snafu…" Eugene starts. Neither of them have gotten out of the truck yet. Fred is fast asleep between them, farting as usual.

Snafu grins wide, his hand tight on the steering wheel as he pulls the truck into park.

"Snafu, that is the ugliest sight I have ever seen in my life," Eugene states.

"Surely not the ugliest, don't you remember Leyden?" Snafu asks.

"I thought we were going to find the largest duck in the world?" Eugene asks.

"And here we are," Snafu gushes, gesturing to the view outside their windshield.

"You failed to mention the duck is rubber," Eugene says.

"Never asked," Snafu responds. He kicks the truck door open and jumps down excitedly.

In Snafu's mind, the world's largest duck does not disappoint. It's a good few feet taller than him and the duck's bill comes right up to his head. And if he leans his face forward enough he can make it look like the duck is either eating or kissing him.

"Snap a photo," he calls to Eugene with his head still in the duck's mouth.

Eugene clambers out of the truck to comply. Once done, Eugene sits on the curb and watches Snafu examine the duck.

Snafu circles the statue. He pokes at it and tries to gauge if it's actually made entirely of rubber.

"Think this thing's hollow?" Snafu asks.

"Like your head," Eugene drawls.

Snafu leans around the duck to grin at him.

"He's got your eyes," Eugene comments.

"You've been paying attention to my eyes?" Snafu goes round to the front of the duck and notices the eyes are painted an unnaturally vibrant shade of robin's egg blue.

"Hard not to Snaf, when you ask me if they're yellow every time I turn around," Eugene says.

"One time," Snafu says.

"Once was enough," Eugene says.

Snafu remembers that time. And if he remembers that time, the first time he touched Eugene's skin for reasons other than necessity, he also then remembers the more recent time, with the dog bowl. And his fingers start to itch.

He places his palms flat against the hot rubber of the duck. It smells like car tires, and wood chips, and fresh air and summer. There's no gasoline or any other rotting stench to remind him of other days involving the strong smell of rubber. This smell is childhood, and innocence.

Snafu looks over at Eugene.

Eugene meets his eyes. "I can't believe we drove all this way for a rubber duck," he says.

Snafu smirks and picks his way over to sit next to him. Their shoulders brush, and that is also a familiar touch.

"Not just any rubber duck, the world's largest," Snafu counters.

"They all look the same," Eugene says.

"Not true," Snafu says, thinking about his ever changing birdbath.

Eugene stands, marches to the truck, grabs the rubber duck off Snafu's dash, and sits back down. He places the duck in Snafu's hands.

"This one's got a hat," Snafu points out, flicking the little green helmet on the duck's head.

Eugene rolls his eyes, "This and the big one in front of us could be cast from the same mold except for size."

"What, you think I oughta curb my enthusiasm?" Snafu taunts.

Eugene looks at him deadpan.

"Get it?" Snafu nudges him with his shoulder, "Cause we're sitting on a curb?"

"Oh good lord," Eugene puts his head in his hands.

Snafu laughs.

He doesn't laugh for long because Eugene removes his head from his hands, cups them around Snafu's face, and pulls him into a soft kiss.

And if Snafu failed to mentally prepare himself for the excitement of seeing the world's largest rubber duck, he certainly didn't prepare himself for this.

It's wonderful. And suddenly it makes sense. All that affection, rattling around in Snafu's empty tin heart like glass marbles. It didn't have anywhere to go. But now it does.

He still doesn't know what to do with his hands.

So he clasps them on his knees, leans in as close as he can get while staying seated on the curb, and lets Gene kiss him.

They sit there necking so long they miss the sunset. It's twilight by the time Eugene pulls away. He doesn't go far, keeps his hands on Snafu's face, and caresses Snafu's cheek as if unwilling to actually part from him.

"Gene," Snafu breathes.

Eugene smiles.

The dog wakes up from where he was sleeping behind them and sits straight so he can rest his head on Eugene's shoulder. Gene laughs, takes the Marine Corps rubber duck from Snafu's hands, and tosses it a few feet away.

The dog immediately becomes alert. Freddie watches the rubber duck fly, watches it bounce to the ground, watches it stop moving, then slowly trots over, picks up the duck in his mouth, and slowly trots back. Freddie sets the rubber duck in Eugene's lap, lies down across both of their feet, farts, and then goes to sleep.

"I think we've accidentally adopted an old dog," Snafu observes.

Eugene grins and leans in closer to Snafu's side. Eugene's arm wraps around Snafu's waist and he kisses his neck before settling his head comfortably against Snafu's shoulder.

"I think we can teach him new tricks," Eugene says, patting the dog on the back.

"In Mobile or New Orleans?" Snafu asks.

"New Orleans," Eugene replies, "But not before Sid's wedding in a few months. You'll have to come to mobile for that."

"Good thing it's on the way," Snafu drawls.

"Yeah," Eugene laughs, "Good thing."

"I ain't gonna be the most agreeable person to have in the wedding party, Sledgehammer," Snafu warns. He lights a cigarette and turns so the smoke doesn't blow in Eugene's face.

"Me either," Eugene says.

Snafu snorts, "Naw, you're always a delight."

"Not always," Eugene says, a little more seriously, "Not always."

Snafu pulls away. He doesn't stand because he doesn't want to disturb the dog, but he moves enough that Eugene takes his hands off him. Because it's not the same. It's not the same and he needs to convince Eugene somehow.

"Why don't you find a nice girl, Gene?" Snafu asks, "Someone who could be a bridesmaid. Or a bride."

"You sound like my mother," Eugene complains, "I don't want some girl. Never have." He stays quiet for a minute and then voices his own insecurities, "Have you? I mean, I know you used to flirt with all the girls on the journey home…"

"Never have," Snafu says.

"Then why…?"

"T'make you glare at me," Snafu smirks, "Make you jealous. Always figured it was me getting the girls you were jealous of though."

"Nope," Eugene sighs, "Afraid it was the other way around. Didn't like that the girls got you"

Snafu laughs. They sit quietly while he finishes his cigarette and the last bit of light fades from the sky. Somewhere behind them a street lamp turns on and illuminates the giant rubber duck in an eerie orange glow.

"Shit, it got uglier," Snafu drawls.

Eugene's shoulders shake with laughter. Snafu likes how the movement transfers into his own body. He likes how close they've drifted together again. Like they can't keep apart, even when not deliberately touching.

"Always knew I wanted you, Snaf," Eugene says.

That's a sobering thought - Eugene wanting him. 

"Situation Normal All Fucked," Snafu says. He leans as close to Eugene's face as he can get and smiles at him, "I guess if you leave out the 'up' my nickname could be fun."

He can't imagine how he could be of any use to Gene. Aside from the obvious. It'd be a lie to say he never recognized the heat in Eugene's eyes when he looked at Snafu.

He tells Eugene as much, while also trying not to say anything.

"Oh for goodness sake," Eugene says, "I don't love you because you're useful. That's not how it works."

Eugene kisses him quiet. And this time Snafu holds his chin and kisses him back.

_____

Here is snafu's truck: ^_^ 1946 chevy currently in the process of being rebuilt but you get the idea

[charliefromtheuniverse]

The Story of “SAVE ME”

Save Me is a 15-episode webtoon that BigHit released in April 2019. The webtoon was announced on a Twitter account called Smeraldo Books and is currently available for free on the Naver webtoon app and website.  

The HYYH story of the Bangtan Universe features seven main characters, one that takes the name of each BTS member. Even though we’ve got all seven as main characters, the HYYH storyline does focus a bit more on Seokjin’s character as the protagonist. This webtoon follows him and his actions, and he’s the only character we have real insight into here.  

Save Me is set in Year 22, after the backstory established in the HYYH Notes leading up to April 11th of that year. There are more HYYH Notes that take place after Save Me, so it falls somewhere in the middle, during some of the rising action. This follows the trend of BTS’s content often being released in media res, or in the middle, rather than from the beginning.  

That being said, reading Save Me on its own prior to dealing with the mammoth that is the HYYH Notes can be beneficial, as it does contain story that introduces some really important events that become a central focus of the overall narrative.  

Save Me tells the original story of the HYYH timeline that takes place in Year 22 before Seokjin enters the time loop. We know the HYYH storyline actually starts in Year 9, (see Note from HYYH Book 1 dated in October Year 9). This Note is from when Seokjin is a child—the Year corresponds to Seokjin’s age. The later Notes follow the seven characters sporadically throughout the following years, ending (for now) in Year 22. If we assume that the real-world age differences between the Bangtan members were carried over to their characters, then we can figure out the age of any character for any give Note.

Leading up to Year 22, we have HYYH Note entries from all the characters that establish their individual backstories as well as the group meeting each other and then falling apart. There are definitely important events mentioned in these Notes, so I explain some of the relevant backstory where needed in the summary below.  

Though there is backstory before Save Me, this webtoon provides the original course of events; as in, this is what happened to this group of friends after they went their separate ways, before Seokjin interferes. The Save Me logo contains a zero, and the HYYH Notes book contains a one, which indicates that Save Me happens before some of the content of the HYYH Notes. There are some crossovers with what happens in Save Me and what happens in the Notes, since Seokjin re-lives certain days many times.  

Below is a summary of each episode, and there’s a brief discussion at the end.

Summary of the Episodes

In the prologue, Taehyung is backing away from a broken bottle with blood on his hands. Namjoon sits in jail with a lollipop which he drops to the floor, and Jungkook is walking along the edge of a rooftop. We see Hoseok fall down the stairs while in a hospital gown and Yoongi in a room that's on fire. Jimin sits alone in a hospital room, hooked up to an IV. Seokjin stands in front of a window with white shades, which he opens and sees himself reflected in the window. These are all images we’ve seen in the “I Need U” music video and Seokjin’s short film titled “Awake.”  

Episode 1

Seokjin sits on an airplane from L.A. to Incheon. He later wakes up in the room with the window. He says it's been two years, and though he hasn't been away for all that long, he doesn't feel at home. He leaves the house. In the next scene, he's driving in his truck, and we know it's April 11th from the radio report. He drives past the school, which he hasn't been back to since high school, and he sees Jungkook standing in the crowd of students that are about to cross the street.  

There's a flashback to when they were all in school together. A teacher fusses at them for being lazy and gives them all detention. We see the storage classroom, which became their hideout. There's a scene of them enjoying their time together in that classroom. In the HYYH Notes text, we learn how important this room became to them.  

In the present, cars are honking at Seokjin to go, and he drives away. At a gas station while he's getting his gas pumped, Seokjin sees Namjoon working on a different car. He looks at him in his mirror but doesn't talk to him.  

Next, Seokjin is in his room, reading a red book. The main reason I mention this here is because in the HYYH Notes from later in Year 22, Seokjin picks up a red diary that a girl drops. I don’t think this has any correlation, since this happens in April of the same year.  

Later, he seems to have a dream where he's floating in water and all of the other guys are ahead of him with their eyes closed. Seokjin reaches out his hand to them, but then he wakes up. It's May 22nd now, and he wonders how they are and whether he should have walked up to them previously.  

Seokjin leaves and goes to the gas station where Namjoon works and asks for him. The other worker tells him Namjoon isn't there and is currently locked up. A news report is seen on the TV in the background that reads "A high school student arrested for killing his father." From the HYYH Notes, we know this is referring to Taehyung rather than Namjoon.  

Seokjin goes to visit Namjoon. He offers to help if there’s something he can do, but Namjoon tells him there’s nothing to do. He says the person he beat up berated him for being poor. We get a flashback to Namjoon working at the gas station, where a rude customer yells at him for bumping into the mirror of his expensive car. The money the customer had tried to give him for the gas ends up on the ground, and the customer demands it back. He insults Namjoon and Namjoon responds by slamming the man onto his car. They go to the police station to file a report and the officer comments that the man isn't even really that injured and they should just settle. The rude guy laughs and asks if Namjoon can afford a settlement. Namjoon refuses to settle, so he ends up in jail. Seokjin recalls that it happened on April 11th, the day he saw him at the gas station and didn't speak to him. Namjoon tells him it was bound to happen since he's broke, so Seokjin should just leave him there.  

Seokjin asks about the others, but Namjoon says he doesn’t keep in touch. Then, Namjoon drops the real bombshell: Jungkook is dead, and so is Yoongi. Hoseok is in the hospital after a bad accident. He says he doesn't know what happened to Taehyung or Jimin. Seokjin is visibly shaken, but he's asked to leave as visiting time is over.  

Walking outside, Seokjin wonders if Namjoon would have not ended up in jail if he had just spoken to him at the gas station that night. He sees a crowd of reporters shouting at someone, asking if they really murdered their father. Seokjin realizes it's Taehyung, walking in a line of criminals with rope tied around his wrists and body. He calls out to him. Taehyung turns around to look at him. Of course, there’s nothing he can do.  

In the next scene, Seokjin is alone at the beach as he recalls them all being together and happy at the beach. He says they used to be happy just being together, but now everyone is miserable. He wonders if any of them were happy since they split up. As he sits on the beach clearly upset, a white cat appears and seems to speak. "If you could turn back time, do you believe you can straighten out the errors and mistakes and save everyone?" it says. This text appears graphically different than other speech bubbles—it’s stylized and blue. Seokjin looks at the cat and wonders if he's seeing things, but he says that he'd do anything to fix all the mistakes and make everyone happy.  

There's a graphic effect like a mirror shattering, and Seokjin wakes up in his room. He thinks he had a dream, but the date on his phone shows April 11th. As we’ll see going forward, this effect is employed each time Seokjin fails and gets sent back in time.  

Episode 2

The first scene opens at the gas station where Seokjin sees Namjoon but doesn't approach him. As he drives off, Seokjin says he should have said hi to Namjoon. Suddenly, there's a loud thud and Seokjin's truck screeches to a stop. A body has fallen on top of the hood, and he recognizes that it's Jungkook. He's clearly dead, and Seokjin starts to panic inside his car. Someone asks him to step out of the car to see if he's okay, and everything starts to go blurry. The shattering effect appears again, and Seokjin wakes up in his room, thinking he had a dream, but he doesn't remember the details.  

Seokjin looks at the photo of himself and his friends, dated June 12th from when they were together in high school at the beach (cross-reference: HYYH Note Book 1, Jungkook entry dated June 12 Year 19). He says he misses them and wonders how they are, and he notes that something feels strange.  

Seokjin leaves and drives near the school, hearing the same traffic report as we saw in Episode 1. It's April 11th again. Seokjin sees Jungkook walking with other students, and his heart starts racing like it did when Jungkook's body landed on his car in his "dream." He wonders why that's happening, and the cars behind him begin to honk at him to move, so he drives off.  

At the gas station, Seokjin leaves without speaking to Namjoon again. As he drives away, he notices he feels like he's forgetting something important. He stops near a convenience store where a cop car passes by and he starts walking down the sidewalk. Suddenly, Jungkook falls to the pavement behind him, and Seokjin turns around to see him dead again. Everything shatters.  

Another speech bubble that resembles the one that appeared next to the cat appears now in a different color. It reads: "Am I too late? You could've been the one I was looking for. If you've already sealed the pact, open up your eyes and see straight." Seokjin gets up and shouts "Who are you?" at the voice. The unique speech bubbles appear again and read: "This is the world you have to live in and the fate you must go through. You won't make it out here alone in this entangled destiny. Here's how to remember the loop. Once you open your eyes..." Everything shatters again and Seokjin seems to recall memories of everything up to this point: Namjoon in jail, Taehyung being arrested, and Jungkook dying. He also recalls the first time a voice spoke to him (which appeared in blue text instead of yellow). Seokjin stands in his room, trying to process what's happening. He doesn't have a clue, but notes that the voice was different from last time. Then he realizes that the days seem to be repeating themselves.  

Episode 3

The scene opens where Episode 2 left off, and Seokjin realizes he's gone back in time. He gets in his truck and notes that it's April 11th again. There are some scenes showing Taehyung drawing graffiti, Hoseok working in a fast food restaurant, Yoongi playing the piano, Jimin sitting alone in a hospital room, and Jungkook sitting at his desk in school. Seokjin wonders if he can make everything right.  

At the gas station, Seokjin greets Namjoon this time (cross-reference: scene from the end of the “Blood, Sweat, and Tears” Japanese music video.) Seokjin tells Namjoon he just got back to Korea, and then Namjoon has to go help another customer. Seokjin watches the rude customer yell at Namjoon and throw money at him. Seokjin steps in and picks up the money, handing it back to the jerk and telling him to leave. He prevents Namjoon from punching the guy and the guy finally leaves (cross-reference: HYYH Notes from ANSWER, Seokjin entry dated 11 April Year 22). Namjoon awkwardly thanks Seokjin and asks him why he's there. Seokjin thinks back to Jungkook jumping off the roof and knows he has to find him before the end of the day. Seokjin asks Namjoon if he keeps in touch with Jungkook, but Namjoon says no. Seokjin rushes, saying he doesn't have time and must find him now. Namjoon asks if he's in trouble, but Seokjin says there's no time to explain now. Namjoon tries again, but Seokjin tells him that one day they'll all be together again and that they should go to the beach when that happens. Seokjin hurries off and Namjoon stands there confused.  

Seokjin goes to Jungkook's house to ask where he is. The voice over the doorbell says that he should still be at school and won't be home until after 10pm. He goes to the school and asks the teacher, but he isn't there. Seokjin doesn't know where to go, but he remembers the building, so he tries to go there.  

Namjoon is walking around when he spots Jungkook by chance. He calls out to him, but he can't cross the street until the light changes. When he crosses, Jungkook is nowhere to be seen.  

Seokjin is in the vicinity of the building he thinks Jungkook is at. He recognizes the convenience store and the police car. He sees a crane and thinks he has the right building, so he rushes up to the roof, but Jungkook isn't there. He wonders if he can really trust his memories.

Episode 4

Jungkook walks alone and brushes past some punks on the street. They call out to him, and he just keeps walking. They go after him and beat him up (cross-reference: seen in “I Need U” and HYYH Note from HER, Jungkook entry dated 11 April Year 22).  

Seokjin recalls his memory and realizes it isn't the right building. On another building, Jungkook climbs up on the ledge (cross-reference: “Euphoria” music video, HYYH Notes from ANSWER and HER, Jungkook entries dated 11 April Year 22). Someone calls out to him before he can jump.  

Namjoon is yelling at him from the street below, telling him not to move. Jungkook stumbles and starts to fall, but Seokjin catches him. Seokjin tells him he's been looking for him all day and asks him what he was doing out here alone. That triggers a memory for Jungkook where his mother fusses at him, asking him where he had been all day and telling him not to worry his father (cross-reference: seen in HYYH Note from HER, Jungkook entry dated 11 April Year 22, where we learn a bit of Jungkook’s family background).

Seokjin asks again why Jungkook was up there, and Jungkook tells him no reason. Namjoon comes running up to the roof to where they stand. At that moment, Jungkook’s cell phone rings and we can see that it's Yoongi. The scene cuts to Yoongi's phone, which shows several unanswered calls to Jungkook. He's flicking a lighter on and off as he sits in a motel room (cross-reference: “I Need U” music video). In his mind, he sees a burning piano and himself as a young boy.  

Episode 5

We pick back up with Seokjin asking Jungkook why he was on the roof. Jungkook brushes it off. Namjoon asks what happened to his face, and he lies and says he bumped into a wall. Namjoon knows it's a lie, but Seokjin gives him a look that say not to push it. Seokjin asks Jungkook if his parents wouldn't be worried that he's out late, but he doesn't respond. His phone rings, and it's Yoongi.  

In the next scene, Jungkook, Seokjin, and Namjoon rush into the emergency room, so it seems that someone call Jungkook's number from Yoongi's phone since it was the last number dialed. They watch as doctors work on Yoongi, who has burn marks and an oxygen mask. Yoongi starts to code and the doctors try to shock him back to life, but he flatlines. As they watch him die, everything shatters again and Seokjin wakes up in his room with tears in his eyes. He leaves his home again.  

We're back at the scene where Jungkook is about to get beaten up by the punks on the street, but before he can, Seokjin grabs him by the hood and pulls him into an alley. Seokjin tells Jungkook and Namjoon to stay there, and they're both confused as to what's happening, and Jungkook is confused as to where Seokjin came from. Seokjin runs off and Jungkook asks Namjoon why he's there, and Namjoon says he was dragged there too. Namjoon asks if Jungkook keeps in contact with Yoongi. Suddenly, Namjoon gets a call from someone, saying something about police.  

Seokjin ends up at a motel, asking if Yoongi is there. The woman working the front won't give out guest information, but when Seokjin tells her he might set fire to the building, she suddenly pays attention.

Namjoon and Jungkook go to the police station, where Namjoon grumbles that Seokjin left them and they don't know where he is. Namjoon turns to Taehyung, who they had gone to the police station to pick up, and asks him if he has kept in touch with Yoongi since Seokjin was looking for him. Taehyung says he's seen Yoongi in his dreams. A group of policemen rush by, saying a suspected arsonist is at large.

Episode 6

Seokjin and the woman from the motel are watching security footage, trying to find Yoongi. Seokjin thinks they found him on the tape, but the guy turns around and it's not him. He looks out the window across the street and sees fire coming from a different motel. Everything shatters again.

Seokjin re-lives April 11th again, this time stopping the first time he sees Jungkook at the crosswalk at the school. He immediately asks if he keeps in contact with Yoongi. Jungkook is surprised but Seokjin is in a hurry so he presses him. Jungkook recalls the last time he heard from Yoongi, where Yoongi seems to be lying down depressed. In that memory, he tells Jungkook to get lost. Jungkook doesn't tell Seokjin any of this. Jungkook admits that he's seen Yoongi.  

Seokjin puts Jungkook in the car with himself and Namjoon, and Taehyung is also there. They drive to the part of town where Jungkook saw him last, and Taehyung interjects that this isn't where he saw Yoongi. Namjoon points out that Taehyung only saw him in a dream. As Seokjin wonders why Yoongi's location keeps changing each time when Namjoon and Jungkook's location doesn't, a truck skids on the road in front of them and Seokjin can't stop in time. He hits it head on, and it appears that the others are either severely injured or dead. Seokjin seems to be barely conscious as he thinks that it's his fault. He says that the future keeps changing because he keeps making changes in the past. Everything shatters again.

Seokjin is in his room again, this time drawing a map and trying to strategize how to save everyone. He plans it out exactly, thinking that if he does it just right, he can save everyone.  

In the next scene, Seokjin has saved Jungkook and had him call Yoongi. Yoongi is at a restaurant drinking. He answers, and Seokjin asks him where he is. Yoongi hangs up and ignores other calls. Yoongi seems to recall his father yelling at him about music and the piano, saying that he's like his mom and that if he wants to kill himself the same way she did, then go ahead. Yoongi ends up back at the motel with his lighter. He lights a piece of composition paper on fire and drops it onto some spilled alcohol, causing a fire to start.  

Episode 7

There's a flashback to Yoongi playing the piano in high school in the storage classroom. Jungkook comes in and puts a couple of desks together so he can lie down and listen (cross-reference: HYYH Note from HER, Jungkook entry dated 25 June Year 20). A teacher comes in and finds them, and he slaps Jungkook, knocking him down. Yoongi steps in between the teacher and Jungkook. After this, there's a notice of expulsion for Yoongi posted. It's marked June 25th.  

Seokjin sees smoke coming out of a motel that he's driving by, so he stops there and runs to Yoongi's room. He pounds on the door and when no one answers, he gets the fire axe and busts the door open. He carries Yoongi out who seems to faintly recognize that it's Seokjin.

At the hospital, Seokjin waits for Yoongi to wake up, hoping that everything is fixed now. When he wakes up, Yoongi blames Seokjin for not letting him die. He asks him why he saved him. Seokjin realizes that he thought he had saved him, but it wasn't enough.  

A month later on May 11th, Taehyung is drawing graffiti when the police spot him and he begins to run. He ends up at Namjoon's container house and goes inside. Namjoon asks him what he did this time, and they hear the police looking for him outside. Taehyung asks if he can stay the night.  

Episode 8

Taehyung has a dream that he's submerged in water, much like Seokjin had in the beginning. He sees Jimin and tries to reach for him, but Jimin is being pulled down by an unknown hand. Taehyung wakes up in Namjoon's container and asks him where he thinks Jimin is.  

In the next scene, Jimin is sitting alone in the hospital. A little kid asks him why he's there and then suddenly collapses. Jimin calls for help, but Hoseok, who was in the next bed, says that it's okay. He says the boy fell asleep like he does because he’s narcoleptic. Hoseok is in the hospital because he fell outside by himself and smacked his head, from the supposed narcolepsy he’s had since he was young (cross-reference: HYYH Note from Persona, Hoseok entry dated 10 May Year 22).

Hoseok recalls that they saw each other last two years ago, when Jimin had a seizure at the bus stop. Jimin says he doesn't know how long he's been here because his clock stopped ticking (cross-references with “Run” music video and HYYH Notes from ANSWER and the HYYH Book, Hoseok entry dated 12 May Year 22 and Jimin entry dated 11 May Year 22).  

In the next scene, Jimin overflows a sink with water and puts his head in. It's not clear what he's doing. He seems to recall the Flower Arboretum sign, blood spatter on the floor, and himself as a child running away. He gets scared and struggles, and we see the scene of him submerged in water being pulled down by an unknown person. Jimin snaps out of it and takes his head out of the sink.  

Taehyung and Namjoon walk down the train tracks and Taehyung tells him that he's been having a weird dream. He says he sees Yoongi trapped inside a fire and Jimin drowning in water. Namjoon tells him it's nonsense and asks if he wants to go see Hoseok. He perks up at that and runs ahead. As he does do, Namjoon sees bruises on the back of Taehyung's neck.  

Namjoon and Taehyung go to Two Star Burger where Hoseok works, but they tell them he's in the hospital. They go to the hospital to look for him.  

While walking down the hall, Hoseok overhears some of the medical staff talking about Jimin, overhearing that Jimin's parents forced him to be hospitalized.  

The medical staff walk down the stairs, and further down, we see Seokjin waiting.  

Episode 9

Seokjin thinks back to when Yoongi asked him why didn’t he just let him die. He apologized to him and asked him if he could turn back time, would he go back to when they met and change anything. Yoongi just tells him to leave. Seokjin leaves while contemplating if he can really save Yoongi, since he saved him against his will. He thinks that there may be no point, but even so, he can’t give up.  

Seokjin goes to find Yoongi in the hospital, but they tell him Yoongi was discharged last month.  

In the next scene, Yoongi is with Namjoon, Taehyung, and Jungkook at the hospital. Hoseok is in Jimin’s room and receives a phone call. He asks Jimin if he wants to see the others, but Jimin refuses. Hoseok goes to see the others alone, and Taehyung asks if he keeps in touch with Jimin because he’s been thinking about him. Hoseok doesn’t answer.  

Namjoon runs into Seokjin in the hallway and asks if he’s there to see Hoseok—Seokjin hadn’t known Hoseok was there.  

The next day, Hoseok thinks he sees a woman who looks like his mom. He starts to slip down the stairs. The scene cuts to Seokjin running into Jimin at the hospital. Medical staff rush through the area with an injured patient, and Seokjin sees Hoseok lying on the gurney with a very injured ankle. Everything begins to shatter again.  

Episode 10

Seokjin wakes up again on April 11th. He is still determined to fix everything. He tapes the photo they took at the beach on June 12 to his rearview mirror and puts sticky notes of the guys and their locations on the dash of his truck. He checks off Namjoon and Jungkook, leading us to believe he saved them again.  

On May 10th, he goes to the bridge Hoseok is going to fall on. He catches him, puts him in the truck, and drives off. Hoseok wakes up, surprised to see him. He takes his medication and there’s not much else he can do. Seokjin asks if he knows what’s causing the narcolepsy, and Hoseok doesn’t answer. Hoseok has to go to work, but before he gets out of the truck, he notices the sticky notes on Seokjin’s dash. He asks what it is, but Seokjin won’t tell him. At work, Hoseok wonders what’s going on.  

Later, Hoseok meets up with Namjoon and tells him how Seokjin showed up at the right time. It happened to Namjoon too, and he feels like something is off. Hoseok gets on a scooter and Namjoon warns him that they’re dangerous (cross-reference: HYYH Note from Book 1, Namjoon entry dated 17 December Year 21, where Namjoon previously slid on a scooter and another young boy in the village died from a scooter accident).  

As if it were foreshadowing, Hoseok nearly gets into a wreck on the scooter when he cuts across traffic to try and catch up to Seokjin’s truck. He had sent him a text, but Seokjin hadn’t responded yet. This leads into the beginning of Episode 11.  

Episode 11

Hoseok barely avoids being hit by a car. As Seokjin drives down the road, he sees Yoongi walking. Yoongi goes to a motel with his lighter, and we see him light some music on fire.  

Hoseok eats at a convenience store, wondering why Seokjin hasn’t answered him. He sees Seokjin drive by, so he rushes out of the store to follow him. He sees Seokjin carrying Yoongi out of a burning motel. They rush Yoongi to the hospital and as the doctors tend to him, Hoseok recalls the sticky notes. Hoseok asks Seokjin if he knew it was going to happen. He continues to question him, but Seokjin tells him he can’t explain right now. Hoseok goes to the lobby to wait.  

Hoseok thinks he sees Jimin in the hospital, but it turns out not to be him. He nearly slips on the stairs, and Jimin shows up behind him to stop him from falling. They sit down to talk and Hoseok realizes that Jimin has been there ever since he had a seizure at the bus stop. Hoseok recalls being abandoned by his mom as a child and says he knows what it feels like to feel stuck in time. Hoseok asks Jimin if he wants to get out of the hospital, and Jimin struggles to answer.  

Episode 12

Namjoon gets a call at night from Hoseok, who yells into the phone that something is definitely going on. Taehyung is there with Namjoon.  

Seokjin sits at Yoongi’s bedside and says he doesn’t remember how many times he’s been through this. But, he still says he won’t stop trying. Seokjin runs up the stairs to find Jimin but is met with Namjoon, Hoseok, and Taehyung all coming down the stairs with Jimin. They’re there to break Jimin out, but Seokjin worries that this time loop will fail and he doesn’t know what would happen if they break Jimin out. He’s worried about a bigger accident. Seokjin blocks their path. Taehyung argues with him, and Seokjin thinks about how he hasn’t seen Jimin’s final moments and doesn’t even know why he’s in the hospital. Hoseok tells Seokjin how Jimin is there because his parents locked him up for two years. Seokjin relents and tells Jimin it’s his decision.  

Jimin flashes back to his mother leaving him in the hospital because she can’t handle him. Jimin seems to envision a black substance around his feet, which he attempts to scratch off in a tub full of water, appearing to even damage his skin with the force of his scratches. Next, Jimin is submerged in water again, and he recalls the Flower Arboretum and the blood spatter. He sees the black substance dripping off his body and then flashes back to the present, where he sees it around his feet again. He tells them he wants to get out.  

They make a run for it, but they run into Jimin’s mother. She makes him go back to his room and asks if those were the kids from high school. They fight about Jimin’s hospital stay and Jimin yells that locking him up isn’t right and that she’s just embarrassed of him. His mother slaps him and blames him for his seizures. She complains that he puts her and his father through hell. Jimin cries, alone in his room, noting that in the two years he’s been there, today was the first day he had visitors.  

On May 12th, Seokjin sits at the hospital when he hears medical staff yelling for Jimin. He’s locked himself in the bathroom, and they pry open the door. Seokjin bursts in to find Jimin in a tub full of water, likely attempting to drown. He goes to pull him out.  

Episode 13

Seokjin shakes Jimin who is still alive and wonders how much pain he has to go through and if he can save them. Jimin asks Seokjin to get him out, and Seokjin runs with him and puts him in the truck. While they drive, Jimin sees the Flower Arboretum sign and freaks out, jumping out of the car and running into a construction zone. Seokjin wakes up again on April 11th. The white cat is in Seokjin’s room.  

Seokjin doubts that he’s able to save everyone, even though he thought he could. He sits in his room all day, upset at his inability to save the others. Since he does nothing, April 11th starts over again.  

This time, Taehyung shows up at Seokjin’s door. Seokjin is confused, and Taehyung says he saw Seokjin in his dream but he’s surprised to actually find him at home. That gives Seokjin the strength to carry on. Seokjin acknowledges that if he does nothing, the cycle won’t end.  

After a cut, Seokjin shows up at Namjoon’s container with Jimin, and the other guys are all there too. Namjoon offers to let Jimin stay there until he’s ready to go back home. It seems that Seokjin succeeded, and he says they should go to the beach.  

Episode 14

All of the guys play around with sparklers, happy while spending time together. On May 20th, Taehyung comes out of the police department and walks home, not wanting to go in. Taehyung walks in to his dad in a rage, yelling at him and slapping his sister. He flashes back to the past where he was a child and his sister (or possibly mother) tells him to hide in his room when his father is beating her. Not able to watch or take the abuse any longer, Taehyung takes an alcohol bottle and runs at his father. In the next scene, Taehyung cries as he looks at the blood on his hands and clothes (cross-reference: “Prologue” video).  

Elsewhere, Namjoon and Seokjin talk about Jimin looking happier now. Seokjin asks about Taehyung, and Namjoon says he missed his call and tried to call back, Taehyung didn’t answer. Namjoon recalls the bruises on Taehyung and how he tends to hide his personal life. The episode ends with Hoseok pulling up to where Namjoon and Seokjin are, saying that something happened with Taehyung.  

Episode 15

The final episode opens with Seokjin rushing to the police station where there’s a crowd of media around Taehyung, just like in the beginning. They’re asking him why he murdered his father and why he didn’t speak up about the abuse sooner. Seokjin pushes through the crowd and calls out to Taehyung, and everything shatters again.  

Seokjin wakes up in his room again, realizing that he got careless and wasn’t able to save Taehyung. He’s determined not to fail this time.  

Fast forward to May 20th, and Taehyung is coming out of the police station. He meets Seokjin outside. In the truck, Seokjin asks what’s happening at home and Taehyung won’t answer. Seokjin doesn’t force him to talk and instead tells him to talk when he’s ready. Taehyung says there’s something he wants to talk about and tells Seokjin he’s been having a strange dream where Yoongi is trapped in a fire, Jungkook falls from a building, Hoseok has an accident, and Namjoon is in prison. He says he has the dream every night and Seokjin wonders how he knows these things. Taehyung says he’s in the dream, but he can’t remember what happens to himself. Seokjin’s alarmed.  

Seokjin drops Taehyung off at his house, and they can hear his dad yelling from outside. Taehyung runs off and Seokjin follows. Taehyung hits his father with the alcohol bottle and is about to stab him with the broken bottle when Seokjin bursts in. He grabs Taehyung and tries to stop him, but Taehyung pushes him off. Seokjin tries again, and Taehyung accidentally stabs Seokjin with the bottle instead. Taehyung begins to cry, and as he’s dying Seokjin wonders if he’s succeeded this time or if he’ll really die. Everything shatters again.  

Seokjin wakes up, and it’s April 11th. He recalls the words spoken to him: “You won’t make it out here alone… in this entangled destiny.” He realizes he can’t do it on his own, no matter how many times he tries. The webtoon ends with him looking at the photo they took on June 12th at the beach and the words “Once again, just like before, together with you all.”  

Discussion

Even though Save Me was released after some of the HYYH Notes, since it has that zero in the logo, it best fits as the first string of events that take place in Year 22. Basically every note we have prior to April 11th in Year 22 is static—that story doesn’t change. In the webtoon and the notes, we get multiple repeat days as Seokjin tries to save them all.

Time loops in narratives often operate on the idea that the character or characters involved will gain some sort of knowledge that will eventually allow them to get out of the loop. We definitely see that with Seokjin here, and Taehyung does have dreams that are actually true memories from previous iterations of the timeline. He has even more of those dreams in the HYYH Notes, and some of the notes lead me to believe that Taehyung eventually starts to figure it out. It’s possible that this story won’t be fully resolved until they all work together to fix it.

The Butterfly Effect also seems to be at play here because sometimes when Seokjin alters the past, it changes the future events, sometimes leading to character deaths. For example, when he gets several of them in the car to save them, but he ends up wrecking and killing them anyway. He quickly learns he can’t know what will happen from his change in actions—he could end up saving everyone or end up starting over on April 11th again.

We also know that Seokjin can’t die. He dies at the end when Taehyung stabs him, but that just takes him back to April 11th, so he has to survive too. Back before we had so much information on this story, some theorized that Seokjin might need to die in order to save the others, but we know that won’t work either. His death won’t bring about a resolution.

We still don’t know much about the white cat or how the time loop really works. Time travel is logically impossible, but it’s often used in science fiction or fantasy to create interesting “what if” situations—since it’s widely used in various ways, it’s possible that the BigHit creative team has made up their own rules surrounding this time loop and the white cat for example. We can’t really know until we get the full story. Some previously thought the white cat was a kitsune/gumiho, but it’s been confirmed to be a cat, based on the release of the HYYH Art Toys on Bighit’s merch app Weply.

I do not think we're dealing with parallel universes or anything related to the many worlds theory. I've not seen anything to indicate that this is anything other than a time loop used as a narrative device.

I think it’s also interesting that we see a little bit of something called the Novikov self-consistency principle. This principle basically states that the past cannot be altered, so even if someone goes back in time, they can’t change the outcome of events. Sometimes this principal is applied in fiction—stories that use this principle often have characters who try to go back in time to change something but either fail or end up causing the event to happen that they’re trying to prevent. An example of this is the fatal car crash that occurs when Seokjin tries to gather up some of his friends—he tries to prevent their deaths only to cause them. Even though we may see this principle sometimes, I don’t think it’s end-game. I do believe we’ll eventually get a resolution that doesn’t involve the characters ending up dead or miserable.

September 3, 2019

[txladyj-blog]

This Time Around - Chapter 23

A Daryl Dixon x OFC collaboration written by @xmistressmistrustx​ by request of @txladyj-blog​

Rating: Explicit

Relationship: Daryl Dixon/Original Female Character

Tags: Friendship, Friends to Lovers, Awkwardness, Awkward Flirting, Awkward Crush, Fluff and Humor, Angst and Humor, Mild Smut, Strong Language, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Slow Burn, Canon Divergence, Some Canon Scenes and Dialogue

Chapters 26/?

Back in Alexandria, it was early evening and Abraham was hauling wooden railway sleepers from a truck and dragging them to the vegetable patches along with some of the other members of the community. Daryl’s trip with Jess along with their prolonged hug had been playing on his mind over and over for hours and he felt his skin begin to crawl with anxiety if he sat still for too long and so, decided to give Abe a hand when he walked past and saw the sweat-covered, ginger man swearing to himself and dragging the heavy items around.

Daryl and Abraham weren’t exactly close. They trusted each other enough to have each-others backs and recognized each other’s fighting skills and abilities, along with the out-of-the-box way they both seemed to view the world. From time to time, they engaged in basic conversation but Abraham's brash and extroverted personality was the opposite of Daryl’s and he often found that his energy was sapped from a five-minute interaction. On this occasion, chat wasn’t needed but Daryl did have an ulterior motive. He had a question to ask and needed to hear the answer from Abraham’s point of view but had no idea how to go about it without letting the proverbial cat out of the bag. Spotting his chance when Rosita ambled past and held a hand up in a wave to them both, he decided to bite the bullet and just ask.

“You uh… you n’ Rosita, you still a thing?” He questioned warily.

Abraham slotted the sleeper he was holding into position with a swift and strong kick of his boot and wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His white vest was stained with perspiration on the front and his gloves were saturated from being used as towels.

“Still very much got me by the short n’ curlies.” He chuckled.

Daryl cleared his throat and checked over his shoulder, seeing most of the others gathering around the truck a good distance away to be able to overhear anything.

“Right. Right. So, you um, you ain’t gunnin’ for Jess?”

Abraham shot Daryl a suspicious look and his mouth curled into a smile beneath his thick mustache. He laughed loudly and did a double take at him while retrieving a cigar and a box of matches from his pocket and lighting up. It wasn’t a total surprise, he had to admit. He’d seen the way Daryl scowled and stalked off when he spoke to Jess and he was witness to the scene in the armory which had left her beside herself with guilt. Rick had also mentioned that he thought it to be a matter of time before things evolved between them. He wasn’t sure himself if he could see it happening at the time, but there was Daryl standing in front of him and asking if he had any romantic intentions for Jess.

“Goodness gracious, Ignatius.” He said tunefully, quickly lowering his voice and glancing around “She’s got your attention”

“What? Naw, man. I’m just checkin’.” Daryl denied a little less convincingly than he’d hoped. His heart rate was starting to increase and he was instantly regretting saying anything at all.

“Checkin’ for what, exactly?” Abraham pressed.

Panic jolted through him. He hadn’t thought that far ahead. Why exactly could he say he was asking? Jess had already put a stop to any ideas that they were more than friends, but Daryl had to be sure and cover all the bases. He just couldn’t admit to Abraham of all people that he had very confusing and strong feelings for his best friend before even telling Jess herself.

“She’s a friend. I don’t want her getting’ her ass kicked by Rosita. Y’know, this ain’t no romance novel bullshit.”

“Huh. My love life is more of a porno than a romance novel. I ain’t about to change it. So long as I can keep pouring’ the Bisquick without makin’ pancakes.” He remarked, amused at his own humorous take on things “Huh? Huh?” He encouraged with two nudges of Daryl’s arm.

“Right.” Was Daryl’s reserved response.

Abraham bustled past him, placing a big hand on his back and guiding him away from the workforce that were now making their way over to the patch adjacent. He turned him away from any prying eyes and addressed him with a permanent, knowing smile.

“C’mon, I didn’t just fall off the turnip truck. I know what’s going on here.” He said.

“Yeah, what’s that?” Daryl challenged, only slightly confident that he could hold his own with the conversation.

“You gotta just grab the bull by the nut sack.”

Daryl raised an eyebrow and leaned back slightly, perplexed by Abraham's choice of words and even more so by his grabbing gesture with one hand. It wasn’t far off from how his brother used to speak, only Abraham was quite clearly intelligent enough to use colorful metaphors without caring what anyone thought of it.

“What in the hell are you talkin’ ‘bout?” He questioned “Jess ain’t no bull”

“OK, forget that. Tell her you wanna get busy with her, see how she reacts” He suggested.

“I aint tellin’ her nothin’.” Daryl quickly replied with a step backwards as if he wanted to leave the topic, which he very much did by then.

“Then the only way you’re gonna get laid is if you crawl up a chicken’s ass and wait. It’s the apocalypse, Daryl. Sometimes you gotta just ask for what you want.” Abraham reasoned. After all, he’d asked Rosita and she’d been more than happy to oblige. He didn’t see anyone else as being much different and figured that if everyone was just straight with one another, things would be a lot easier.

“I ain’t doin’ that.” Daryl dismissed.

Abraham chuckled once more, slapping Daryl’s back with a huge paw and shaking his head in amusement.

“Ahh, hell. Balls just called. They wanted to know if you’d like a pair.” He joked.

“Look, it ain’t like that. I’m just…makin’ sure she’s okay.” Daryl confirmed, shrugging Abraham from his shoulder and backing up. He could see some of the other workers glancing up at them. Far from being a quiet man, Abe’s booming voice proved to be a lot louder than either of them first thought and Daryl was becoming highly uncomfortable.

“Whatever. Just think about it. She’s a peach, she’d be damn good for you.” Abraham suggested, puffing cigar smoke into a large cloud between them and tugging his gloves off. “I gotta go to guard duty. But I’ma get me some ass first.” He conveyed casually as he stepped down from the vegetable patch and headed across the street.

“Didn’t need to know that.” Daryl grumbled to himself.

*

Tower watch was usually done on a rotational basis and Jess, being a non-resident of Alexandria, was exempt from such duties. From time to time, she would surprise Deanna and volunteer her time, finding that walking the perimeter or sitting in the tower was a cure for her restlessness. Daryl was no different and as a recruiter, he was also omitted from the guard schedule but often found himself in the comforting, quiet confines of the wooden structure with a rifle, a pack of smokes and his jumbled thoughts when reading to Judith didn’t quite manage to calm his soul enough.

It was a cold night and a dense fog hung in the air like a blanket over the trees. Recent conversations floated around in his memories and he was sure his sides still tingled from time to time with the memory of Jess’s arms wrapped around him. He lit a cigarette and time passed between the spark of his lighter and when he smiled as he dwelled, yet again on the thought of Jess telling him he could hug her whenever he wanted. He wouldn’t, of course. It was far from how he conducted himself and any physical contact normally came with a lot of forethought and mental preparation.

His cigarette balanced precariously between his lips as he tilted his head back and took a drag without even touching it. He expelled the smoke from his nose, the cloudy appearance of the small tower room reminding him of his dream in which Merle had tried to urge him to do something about his feelings.

‘Times a-wastin’, Daryl. Get to it.’

He wished he could. Wished that everything really was that simple. Wished that he knew for sure that she felt something for him the way he did for her. But all he had was a notion, a few blushes and compliments that could be nothing more than a basic appreciation between two friends.

The door below clunked shut and Daryl could hear footsteps on the rungs of the ladder approaching. He threw his smoke away and looked over his shoulder to await the arrival of his visitor. It was past midnight and highly unusual for anyone else to be up in the tower except for the person on guard. Daryl never had company while he was on watch and that, to him, was one of the perks of the job.

When Jess appeared clutching a bag of cookies and pushing her hood back from her face, he figured that maybe tower watch had other perks too. Namely, that he could very well be about to spend time with a pretty girl, cooped up in a wooden box in the sky.

“Ya don’t gotta stay.” Was the first thing he said. He didn’t know why and realized as he said how strange it sounded. Almost like he wanted her to turn around and climb back down the ladder, which he didn’t.

Unimpressed, Jess squinted down at him and huffed out her obvious disapproval.

“Really?! ‘Can I visit you, Jess? You don’t have to be here, Jess’.” She quoted “Talk about mixed signals, stinky.”

Daryl, confused by his own actions, messily waved a hand at the empty chair beside him.

“Take a damn seat n’ quit complainin’.” He grumbled.

The two chairs in the tower were no more than a foot apart and Jess dragged hers even closer still and settled down in front of the window with the rifle resting on the wall on Daryl’s side. She opened the paper bag in her lap and handed him a cookie, telling him they were from Carol and she’s sent them because she knew he hadn’t eaten that day. It was evident that Carol was right when Daryl managed to put away three large cookies in a matter of seconds and Jess peered down at her first, half eaten baked treat as hers was made of lead.

Since the boat and Daryl’s admission of his dream about Merle, Jess wondered if he would ever provide her with more information pertaining to his death and the events that lead up to it. She was curious and more than that, she was concerned that his inability to move past it was presenting itself in his subconscious, when he dreamed. Having reached what she thought to be a pivotal point in their friendship, where they hugged and she awoke with him curled up against her, she guessed it was now that was the right time to ask.

“Can I ask you something? About your brother.” She said

Daryl threw the last of his third cookie into his mouth and chewed noisily before brushing the crumbs from his lap and side glancing at her. She could see the questioning behind his eyes already, the hesitation to discuss what was bound to be a sore subject.

“OK.” He grunted.

“What did he tell you about where I was?” She wanted to know. They’d touched on it before, briefly and on a need-to-know basis.

“He didn’t. S’a long story.” He mumbled, falling quiet and instilling a heavy guilt in Jess. For at least two minutes, he fiddled with the radio in his lap.

“I’m sorry” She eventually managed. “I shouldn’t have asked; I don’t want to drag up bad memories for you.”

“Nah, s’ok.” He said sincerely with a small glance in her direction. Hesitating, it dawned on him that he did want to tell her what happened and that, alone, was a breakthrough in itself. Daryl wasn’t a talker, he never discussed his innermost thoughts and feelings with anyone, but in the time that he’d known Jess, it was becoming easier and more desirable to do so. “I ain’t talked about to nobody before. But I’ll tell you. If ya wanna know”

Feeling as thought a compromise was needed so as not to drag him too far from his slowly expanding comfort zone, Jess decided to offer him a simpler suggestion.

“Give me the short version and maybe some other time you can tell me everything. Only if you want.” She proposed.

Seemingly content with meeting her halfway, Daryl slid further down in his seat and propped one leg up on the window ledge in front of them. As he spoke, he picked at the messy stitching around the repaired hole in the knee of his pants leg.

“After the crazy sommbitch cut his own hand off to escape that roof in the city n’ you saved his ass, he got mixed up with this psycho. Started workin’ for him. This guy, he wanted to kill us all, take the prison we were livin’ in.” Checking she was still with him, he peeped to his side at her, she was listening, now turned towards him and slowly chewing on another cookie. “Merle… he sacrificed himself in the end. Knew his time was up. Michonne was with him, he asked her to give me a message when she saw me. I went straight to find him, bring him back. But he was already turned.”

“I’m so sorry, Daryl. That must have been so hard.” She whispered sincerely “What was the message?”

Daryl looked out at the misty and still night beyond the tower. From where they were, the horrors below were obscured, masked by a serenity that was often taken for granted. But these moments were Daryl’s moments of peace and they were becoming more frequent because of the dark-haired girl beside him. She was becoming his haven away from the misery. He trusted her to ground him, to distract him and to remind him that not everything was lost.

“Said ya was holed up in an apartment opposite a bookstore in the city. That you was doin’ OK n’ that he didn’t tell me ‘cause ya asked him not to and he owed ya.” He explained, catching her small smile as she studied him when he spoke. “And…”

“…and?” she echoed.

He hadn’t meant to let the conjunction slip out. In fact, he’d intended to scrap it altogether, thus getting himself out of revealing everything else that Merle had said. But it was done and if he backtracked, he would be lying and that was one thing he never wanted to do to her.

“He uh-he didn’t know what he was talkin’ ‘bout. It don’t matter.” He tried to dismiss.

Jess’s interest was well and truly hooked by the last, little word on the end of his sentence and she was not about to let it slide without any inclination as to what he was referring to. She had some opinions about Merle of her own and so, concluded that the best way to get Daryl to continue talking, was to be honest herself.

“It does. It does matter. Your brother wasn’t as bad as everyone made out. I saw who he was. He was rude and sexist and racist and he stank of whiskey like, all the time but he was brave and he knew what it was to be loyal. I didn’t expect to, but I respected him and I know now that he respected me in the end, because he didn’t tell you where I was until he was sure he was going to die.”

He briefly looked round at her at her and she heard him sigh. She could tell he wasn’t comfortable with confessing whatever else Merle has said and decided that if her attempt turned up nothing, she didn’t want to push him to anger.

Daryl wasn’t sure if he could endure yet another conversation that left him feeling vulnerable and exposed, it seemed to be what they did now, spent time alone and toed the line together. Although, quite what line Jess was nearing, he only wished he knew. A part of him wanted to tell her the truth and in the back of his mind, he could hear his brother.

‘Don’t be no sissy.’

“He wanted me to know he thought you’d make a good Dixon” He told her.

“Really?” Jess asked in a tone that told him she was a little surprised. “Seeing as I have you as an example of the better half of the Dixon’s I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Don’t know ‘bout that.” He mused with a shy huff “… he um, he also said somethin’ else. But I don’t wanna make ya uncomfortable or nothin’.”

Jess’s eyebrows shot up and a look of captivation swept across her face, her lips curled into a grin as she searched her memories for any clues as to what he could possibly mean.

“You can’t say that and not tell me. C’mon, pleeeease?” She pleaded with a giggle and having to stop herself from gripping his arm and playfully shaking it.

She was too much. Too much to say no to. Her laugh and the sparkle in her eyes made it impossible. He was going to have to give in, he had no choice. His hands furiously picked at the threading on his pants and he was altogether very aware of it, forcing himself to sit still and summon the courage to tell Jess what she was waiting to hear as she leaned towards him across the arms of their chairs.

“Said that everybody knows that you’re my girl n’ I’d be a damn fool not to find ya n’…tell ya that.”

“Oh” Jess breathed quietly, setting back into her seat and blinking away the surprise. “I see.”

“Like I said, he didn’t know what he was talkin’ ‘bout.” Daryl added in the hope that it would do something to help filter the awkwardness from the air.

“That asshole wanted us to squirm with embarrassment even after his death. Very Merle.” Jess chuckled to herself. “Well, ‘your girl’, huh? I should be so lucky.” She mused, slowly turning her head to check his reaction. In the low light, she could just about make out the darkened top of his ear peeking through the gap in his hair. She’d made him blush.

“Are you…blushing?” She grinned.

“What? No.” Daryl huffed awkwardly.

Feeling triumphant and noting it down as more than one occasion that she’d successfully managed to turn those ears pink and witness the slight tint to his cheeks, Jess felt a surge of self-assuredness rush through her. Now, she had the control.

“I did I get the ever-stoic, badass that is Daryl Dixon to blush. Oh, that’s right…again?!” She giggled, nudging his elbow with her own and almost dying at the sight of him hiding a smile and flat refusing to let her have the glory.

“Stop. and ain’t nothin’ lucky ‘bout that.” He scoffed.

Jess tutted and rolled her eyes, releasing a very deliberate sigh and crossing her arms over her body, allowing the empty cookies wrapper to fall to the floor. She didn’t even bother to stop and analyze just how honest she should be, Daryl was going to hear what she really thought, and that was that.

“What are you talking about, you idiot?” She questioned “You’re a catch.”

Daryl side-eyed her, wishing he could find the words to ask her to elaborate, or drag more out of her about what she really thought of him. Hearing that she thought he had something to offer had almost knocked him for six and all coherent thought was suddenly dispelled in his mind like pins at the end of bowling lane.

“Huh. Yeah. Whatever.” He mumbled.

Jess was getting used to risk-taking around Daryl. Most of them had paid off and gifted her with something more than the minimal, closed-off person he presented to everyone else. She’d even managed to get herself some physical contact in the form of a hug and would not be forgetting being able to touch his arm or hold his hand in a hurry. With that in mind, she dived in again, risking placing her hand on his forearm and was pleased when he showed no interest in moving away.

Daryl slowly dragged his eyes down to where her hand rested, then he met her gaze briefly and rendered her completely speechless when he shifted his arm back, catching her fingers in his and threading them together.

“Thanks” He whispered to her.

“What for?”

“I dunno why…but you see somethin’ good in me.”

I wish I could be the man you deserve.

Jess slid further down in her chair, still clinging to his hand and rested her head delicately on his shoulder. If he could snuggle into her at night and fit close to her like the missing piece of her jigsaw, then she could snuggle right back. If she could have seen his face, she’d have discovered the pure astonishment on his features. His mouth dropped open and he feebly glanced about the room, unable to believe that what was happening was real. As she sat there with her hand in his and her cheek pressed against his shoulder, her eyes grew heavy and she noticed how comfortable she’d become.

“I only ever see good things in you” She sighed, closing her eyes and letting her weariness take over.

Daryl knew he didn’t need to respond when her head became heavy on his shoulder and her breathing slowed. He certainly hoped that his tower shifts were similar to this every time he volunteered and that he would see more occasions where he would be able to sit with her hand in his and her sleeping form against him and just…be.

 *

Her eyes opened one first, then the other, weighed down by fatigue. It was dark all around her and her neck was stiff. She scrunched her face up, rubbing her fingers over her tired eyes and groaning. Daryl moved to the side and Jess, having completely forgotten where she was, jumped and scraped her chair along the floor while he watched her, tickled by her lack of awareness. She’d been asleep for around an hour, softly breathing against his arm and he’d struggled with the desire to lift his arm and position her underneath, against his chest and in a motionless embrace. But he’d stayed put and exulted in her being nearer to him than any other woman had managed in the past.

He reached out in an echo of when she’d woken beside him in his room and gently brushed at the corner of her mouth with his thumb.

“Droolin’ again.” He chuckled

When it all hit her, where she’d been sleeping, his mocking of her involuntary saliva escape and the delightfully entertained look on his face, she shoved at his arm and covered her bright red face by pulling her hood down to obscure her cheeks.

“Oh my god, don’t be a dick!” She complained

He laughed without reservation, a genuine, unashamed laugh that she had rarely heard without some kind of barrier or means of obscuring it.

“Like a bloodhound” He remarked with a quick flicker of his eyes to his damp shoulder.

“Shut up!” She gasped “Don’t be mean. I was comfortable.” She crossed her arms and pouted at him from beneath her hood. “Shouldn’t have such a comfy shoulder.”

“So, it’s my fault, now?” He asked.

“Yes” She confirmed with an unsure glance in his direction.

You held my hand. I wasn’t exactly going to move away.

“I’ll ask Judith if ya can borrow a pacifier next time” he smirked.

“Enjoy making fun of me while it lasts because I won’t be falling asleep on you anymore.” She muttered to herself while standing up and straightening her clothing, readying herself for the climb down the ladder to the street below. While it was all very light-hearted, she needed to leave the situation and try and erase the memory of Daryl seeing her drool like a baby as she slept.

“Shame.”

She thought she heard it but she couldn’t be certain. It was uttered almost as quietly as his breathing. It wasn’t clear, but it was definitely something. She wondered if her ears were playing tricks on her or her tired mind was making things up. She caught his eye and noted a hint of shyness in him as he nudged his head up at her in a wordless goodbye. Her stomach fluttered furiously because that’s what he did to her now. He gave her butterflies like a girl with a crush. Except it wasn’t just a crush and as the days passed, those butterflies were growing in size, just like her affection for him.

*

Jess was sitting on the Ferris Wheel upon returning to the fairground. Now out of use and locked in place, she was able to climb up to the top car and sway with the breeze while watching the stars and doodling the outline of her family crest on the front cover of her journal. It was rare she wrote in it anymore, she had Aaron and Eric who bore the brunt of much of her venting. But the heavy nature of the secret she carried with her was steering her back to journaling. Only, she hadn’t quite made it past the front cover yet.

“…And I'll use you as a focal point, so I don't lose sight of what I want…”

She sang quietly, absent-mindedly working her way through the song, grateful that her secluded location meant that she could sometimes sing as loud as she wanted to without fear of judgement. The only audience being the odd Walker, who she would quickly put down with a well-aimed arrow before it had time to cross the trap-ridden area in front of the fence.

“…and I've moved further than I thought I could, but I missed you more than I thought I would”

She tilted her head at the sketch of the crest, she wasn’t the most proficient of artists but was pleased with her efforts and made a mental note to attempt more drawing in the future. It was a break from carving arrows, training, stabbing Walkers and hunting that she needed. Something different to try.

A red streak in the sky caught her attention and she slowly moved the journal and pencil from her lap. She’d just missed it, but it looked like a flare. She waited, straining her ears to listen and squinting at the tower, which could just about be seen through the trees from where she was. The pop-popping of gunfire made her nervous and then, another flare went off in the sky above, closer and clearer this time.

“Oh shit, not again!” she cried before scrambling down the metal structure and racing to the fairgrounds gate.

*

The scene at Alexandria was more brutal and distressing than she could have ever imagined. With the gate wide open and blood smeared across the asphalt, screams could be heard coming from just about every corner of the town and as Jess crept in through the shadows with her machete equipped and her mask and hood up, her heart beat a solid rhythm in her chest. Her hands trembled but adrenaline was forcing her forwards, putting one foot in front of the other until she halted, whirling to one side and seeing a bloodied woman sprinting across the street towards her. The sound coming from her mouth was garbled yet utterly desperate and her blonde hair was smattered with red from a gaping head wound that reached from above her ear to her collar bone. Following closely behind her, was a burly man with a large knife and a bald head. His face was obscured by a bandana, much like Jess’s and as he barreled along, grasping for the woman’s arm, Jess stepped out from the blackness and ran.

Human bone is incredibly sturdy. It is stronger than steel and concrete of the same mass. The human skull encases the most important organ of the human body, the brain, and has evolved to be as strong as possible to withstand trauma. Strong enough, in fact, that a recently sharpened machete alone is unlikely to penetrate such strong, non-decaying bone with one hit, a fact that Jess was already aware of. Months of reading had paid off and in the slow-motion seconds of her swinging her blade at the bald cranium of the man pursuing the injured Alexandrian, she had the foresight to think of her secondary weapon; the knife that Daryl had given her. The clunk of the metal against his head was so sickening her stomach clenched and her jaw locked shut. The side of the man’s head exploded with blood from the baseball-like swing that collided the blade with the assailant. It peppered her mask and eyes with crimson dots and created a sprawling firework in the air. When she stepped back and watched him stumble, ignoring the loud and gruesome shing from metal scraping on bone as she retracted her machete, she slid her hunting knife from its sheath on her belt and drove it, with all her might into his ribs. He gripped her wrists, terror filling his panicked eyes when his knees hit the ground.

From behind her, Jess could hear the woman’s piercing screams and she quickly turned on her heels, flicking blood from the wound in the man’s side across the surface of the road. He glugged and wheezed and Jess paid him no mind while she focused on the severely hurt woman peering up at her from the floor, where Jess had flung her when she stepped to her aid. Grabbing her arm, Jess began dragging her up to the sidewalk, all the while trying to hush her inconsolable crying and whimpering. Finding a dark spot under a platform and against the perimeter wall, she propped the woman up, ripped her jacket from her shaking shoulders and set to tying it around her wounded head. She’d lost so much blood her entire right side was a deep red and it was pooling under her, dripping from her elbow. Jess snatched the woman’s hand up and placed it on the jacket.

“Hold it. Put pressure on it to stem the bleeding.” She whispered to her with a quick glance over her shoulders. Other people were dashing past, some holding weapons up and wearing similar clothing to the man Jess had attacked. Others, she recognized to be the occupants of Alexandria. Gunfire crackled around her and she could only hope that she was far enough from the road to avoid being shot intentionally or caught in the crossfire. “What the hell is going on?” She asked the woman. Then, it dawned on her. The party. She was from the party and was the unfortunate recipient of Jess’s unwanted cannibal information. Her eyes flickered in a dazed state and her skin was paling fast. Jess shook her shoulder gently. “Hey! Stay awake! What happened here?” She demanded

“The-they came out of….out of nowhere. Started…started…hacking p-people to death” She stammered breathlessly. Jess felt an insatiable fury rise in her entire body.

The group from the city. The group from the woods. The man that shot Daryl.

The woman’s hand slapped around Jess’s wrist, snapping her from her realization and she suddenly leaned forwards, inches from Jess’s face. Her eyes bulged and saliva and blood trickled down her lips.

“Leave-L-leave this place. Not…safe…for-for women. They…they t-take women. M-my children…m-my family…they’re gone…they r-ran.”

It was as plain as day but it didn’t make it any easier for Jess to accept that the gravely injured woman before her was dying from blood loss and likely wouldn’t last another few minutes, let alone long enough for Jess to head off and find her family for her. Swallowing hard, she looked into her tear-filled eyes, held onto her free hand and squeezed it, hard.

“Everything is going to be okay.” She whispered, ignoring the blurry despair that was brimming in her own eyes. “Everyone is going to be fine. Your children, they’re in the church” She lied “They’re there. They’re all there. I saw them go in when I got here. It’s okay…it’s-it’s okay.”

In a display of relief, the woman sighed before eyes began to flutter closed and Jess felt all hope abandon her when her body went limp, her hand went lax and her face froze. Tears erupted from Jess’s eyes and a loud sob forced its way up from the depths of her soul.

“Oh…Fuck” She gasped, sagging forwards and clutching the lifeless fingers of the dead woman to her chest. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t fast enough.” She sniffed to the chorus of chaos transpiring from behind her.

As was customary and necessary in the apocalypse, Damaging the spinal cord or the brain enough to avoid reanimation was the next step in a death that didn’t involve one or the other to begin with and now, Jess had to commit an act of mercy to stop the woman from becoming a Walker. She held up her knife and chose not to think too much, it was the way of the world now.

 *

Keeping to the shadows was her forte and it had served her well during her time alone. Jess considered herself lucky that it was the middle of the night and therefore, she was able to move from house to house in search of anyone that may have needed rescuing. From the bedroom of an empty house, she spotted a man being cornered by two strangers with exceptionally large blades. Just out of sight under a tree, she couldn’t make out who the man was, but she didn’t need to know. She slid the window up, climbed out onto the roof and equipped her bow, nocking an arrow and steadying her erratic breathing.

The first arrow was aimed well enough to eliminate one of the men, but the second fell just short, scattering across the road surface and giving away her location. The remaining man’s vision shot up to her, locking her in his sights as he pointed and bellowed at the top of his lungs. Jess stumbled backwards, her back hitting the gables of the house in time to see Aaron run out from behind the tree, pick up the arrow and slam it into the side of the man’s neck. She held her breath for a second while she gawped at Aaron, who quickly began grappling with the arm of the man which held onto his blade.

“I-I have to get down there” She said to herself.

Spinning around, she clambered back through the window and thundered down the stairs, spilling out onto the street in time to see Aaron with the man in a head lock and dragging the knife across his throat. Blood fountained from the wound and Aaron quickly threw him to one side and ran to Jess, dragging her to the side of the house and flinging his arms around her while rambling incomprehensible words over her shoulder. His embrace was so tight that Jess struggled to breathe and had to physically step away to break the hug.

“That was…violent.” She commented.

“Yeah…I know” Aaron panted, blinking in disbelief at the gargling man behind him on the ground. “Are you okay? You can’t be here. I don’t know who these people are but they’re trying to round up the females and kill the men. A lot of people are already dead. You-you have to leave. Now. Rick’s group, they’re working their way around the town. You should go. Please, Jess. Go.” He blathered, grabbing her arm. Jess tore away from him.

“No.” She announced defiantly. “Where is Daryl?”

“Uh…He-he was in the tower at first. The last time I saw him, he was with Rick.” Aaron replied with a wipe of his forehead.

“Eric is safe?” Jess asked

“Yes. I can’t say where. In case they can hear us.”

“Carl? Judith? Enid?” She continued.

“All safe.”

“Lord.” Jess puffed in relief. “C’mon, we have work to do. Stay with me”

Before Aaron could protest, she flung him against the side of the house and was inching her way to the edge, unsheathing her knife again. She spat on the blade and dragged the flat edge across her thigh, revealing it’s reflective surface. It was a trick she’d learned in the city to enable her to check around corners for Walkers. It was also a tried and tested military technique to use small mirrors and reflections for such a task and she was sure that if her brother was watching over her from somewhere, he’d have been proud of her, not only for doing what she had to do, but for having the intelligence to educate herself before running into battle.

The glint of the knife provided her with a tiny, but accurate view down the street towards Aaron's house, where she could see two of the enemy group enter the house. She retreated and pressed her back against the house, next to Aaron.

“Your house.” She whispered “The door is open.”

Aaron's head thudded back against the surface behind him and he squeezed his eyes shut. “Shit” He hissed.

“Eric?” She asked.

“I told him to hide. He’s not a fighter.”

“Did you close the door when you left?”

“Yes”

“Then the chances are, he’s already gone. I’ll check the house.” She decided, moving back towards the corner of the house and gripping her machete.

“I’ll go with you.” Aaron told her quietly. She spun around, pushing him back, in no uncertain terms telling him that he would be doing no such thing.

“I got this. I want you to go and find Daryl for me” She expressed with her hand on his chest.

“I’m not leaving you” He argued.

“Yes, you are.” She gripped the front of his clothing in her fist and shoved him against the house with a thud. “Listen to me” She growled. “I’ll be damned if I lose the man I love again. So, you are going to find him for me. We both know I’m not a perfect fighter but I’m better than you and I can do this. What I can’t do, is live without Daryl in my life. So, go and fucking find him, Aaron or so help me god I will tear down every single one of those licence plates you’ve collected and lovingly attached the wall in the hallway and toss them on a fire while I dance around it singing Kum ba yah!”

Aaron blinked at her in shock but did not for one second take her for a fool. He knew that she was not only deadly serious, but that she was right; She wasn’t as proficient against humans as she needed to be, but he wasn’t as capable a fighter as her. Conceding, much to his worry and trepidation, he gripped her arm.

“Alright, you get my man and I’ll get yours.” He stated.

Jess nodded and went to turn back to the corner, before pausing and looking slightly confused.

“Wait…then we’re swapping back, right?” She asked, a slight smile tugging at her lips. Aaron sniggered and pat her shoulder before dashing off in the other direction, taking the route around the back of the houses in order to stay out of sight.

All around her, gunfire still rang out but the screams were dying down. Bodies littered the street and it wouldn’t be long before they reanimated. They needed to push the invading group back and do a sweep of the bodies with their brains still intact. But first, they needed to kill as many of the violent and ruthless men as possible.

 Aaron and Eric’s place appeared to be empty when Jess gradually inched in through the already open front door. Inside was dim, the only light pouring through the windows from a floodlight on the main gate. She checked the shapes in the dark, ticking them off in her mind, each one recognized as a piece of furniture or a blanket or cushion. The house was eerily still and compared to the commotion going on outside, it unsettled Jess’s nerves and caused her to clutch the handle of her blade even tighter than usual. She could hear her heart pounding in her head and she suppressed a shiver as she reached the kitchen. So far, so good.

The hands seemed to come out of nowhere, morphed from the blackness like creatures of the night, grabbing and manipulating her limbs. Gruff laughter and putrid breath licked at her neck and the side of her face as she was jostled across the room. Her blade was ripped from her hand and all that remained at her disposal was her knife, obscured by her sleeve and held out of sight by her fingers curled up to her wrist.

The room flashed before her when she was twisted around and slammed onto the kitchen counter, her head bouncing from the hard surface. For a few seconds, everything blurred and her hearing dropped out before coming back and presenting her with the sinister laughter of the shadows around her. The air left her body, her lungs strained and her stomach contracted. Her throat gasped. Black figures hovered above her, grappling at her clothing to a tune of gruff and sneering laughter. Jess felt a sharp sensation at her throat, long and lethal. She dropped the knife from her sleeve into her hand and hit out with the sharp end of an uppercut, topped by the hunting knife but coming into contact with nothing but air. A mocking voice commented that she was bound to be a lot of fun before they killed her and that they couldn’t let ‘the boss’ know about this one. She could sense that there were two men holding her down, taking her only weapon and pinning her arms to the table. She thrashed and bucked and tried to scream but was soon hushed by the rancid breath of one of the men, leaning close to her face and telling her that if she made a sound, they would gut her like a fish. Her legs were forced apart and she could hear a belt buckle being undone.

No! She thought No, No, No! Please, No!

The back of her head felt wet and began to bleed from the blunt force trauma. Her inner thighs thrummed with agony as one of the men held onto her flesh so tightly, she thought he might tear her skin from her bones. Dread twisted in her gut and she thought she might throw up when the pressure on her thighs released and the sharpness against her neck vanished. Her sheer horror was making everything a little difficult to make out and she rolled onto her side, coughing and reaching up to her head, wincing at the pain.

Daryl hardly ever missed a shot and was glad of his proficiency with a crossbow when he managed to kill one of the men holding jess down with one shot, straight through his temple. The other one looked up in shock as Daryl tossed the bow onto the kitchen counter and ran at him, bulldozing him from the table and landing on top of him. He ripped the weapon from his hand, which he quickly noticed to be Jess’s own Machete and began hacking at him, over and over, growling loudly and driving the weapon down and flinging it up again, all the while fueled by the image of seeing her restrained and about to be hurt in one of the worst possible ways. He didn’t stop, pummeling the brain matter into the flooring, each blow representing only a small fragment of his pure rage.

Jess climbed down from the table and dragged herself into the safety of the corner, pressing her back to a cupboard and hugging her knees as she watched Daryl hack the man into tiny pieces in the light from the window. The metallic odor of murder filled the air and she flinched with every brutal chopping sound until eventually, he stopped and sat back on his knees, panting wildly and tilting his head back to the ceiling.

It felt like hours but it was mere seconds before Daryl got to his feet and turned to face her. She knew it was him, knew he would never hurt her but in that moment, he looked utterly chilling. He charged out of the kitchen, to the living room where he checked from the window on the state of the town. People were re-grouping in the street. Rick, Glenn. Carol, Maggie and Michonne were all in the middle of the road and all in one piece. On his way back to Jess, he slammed the front door closed and adopted a calmer and slower demeanor with her. He pulled a flashlight from his pocket, clicked it on and placed it on the counter, shining the beam to the ceiling so it wasn’t too harsh but he needed to see her face. Like a frightened animal, she peered up at him with blood running down the side of her head. His chest tightened in sorrow at the state of her and he pushed away the urge to lunge at her and wrap her in his arms, knowing it would scare her even more. Slowly, he leaned down to her and offered her his hand. He said nothing, hoping that she could see in his eyes that his number one priority was her and her safety. But she just crawled further into the corner.

“Jess, it’s alright.” He soothed, lowering himself to his knees “Ya safe. I got ya.”

She stared down at his blood-soaked hand and felt something rising inside her. It was distress. It released from her chest in a loud exhalation and tears started to soak down her cheeks. She gingerly reached out and touched his hand, he bit down on his lip at the sensation of her shaking violently. She wrapped her fingers around his and gradually, he felt her hold on tighter and tighter until he was pulling her onto his lap and enveloping her in his arms. He listened to her gentle sobs and with each sniff, another piece of him fell away. He hated her being hurt and wished he could take it all away.

“You good?” He asked, tenderly stroking the uninjured side of her head. She nodded and began to shift from his lap, staggering to her feet and holding onto the countertop. He got up, grabbed his crossbow and dragged his hand across his eyes, clearing some of the blood from his vision and lifting the bottom of his shirt to wipe his face.

“Uh… I…” Jess tried to say. She pushed her fingers into her hair, feeling a lump forming at the back and a gash at the side. It was wet and sticky with blood. When she started to run thought exactly what had happened in her mind, Daryl could only watch her helplessly as she paced about, her eyes scanning the wooden floor under her boots. She quickly refastened the button on her camo pants and smoothed her hands over her painful thighs. “…Um. I think- I…” she stops and stared at him with tears still forming in her eyes. “…I think I almost got...They were going to…”

Daryl was totally perplexed when she burst into fits of laughter. Squeezing her eyes shut and entering into hysterics, using the countertop for stability. Baffled by her behavior but glad she seemed to have let go of her fear, eventually, he started to smile along with her but was still deeply concerned.

“They almost fucking killed me!” She cried “They almost raped and killed me. I can’t believe it! Holy crap!”

The more she looked at him and his confused expression, the more her laughter waned until finally, she stood in front of him breathing heavily and glaring at him with a strange kind of intensity that Daryl could not place.

“You saved my life. Again.” She uttered.

She closed the gap between them, crossing the wooden flooring as if she was on a mission. She stopped inches from him, placed both of her hands on either side of his face, and kissed him. Without warning. Without permission. Without even deciding to do it or ruminating the consequences. He’d held her life in his hands and he still did and she needed it. She needed him simply because her whole being was so thankful, so unashamedly appreciative of his very existence that she couldn’t have done anything else. When her lips met his, she was alive again.

Daryl was hopelessly unprepared and caught off guard and he was certain that every single muscle he possessed locked into a tight knot. He stood there, immobile and wondered how, for so many months, he’d spent time admiring her and studying every part of her face and lips and yet still, did not see this coming. His mind was screaming at him to react in a mixture of his own voice and that of his brothers.

This is what you’ve wanted for so long. Kiss her back.

She tore away from him, stumbling back and covering her mouth with her hand, her eyes were wide with panic and he could see her fingers quivering in front of her lips. His own were parted and tingling from the soft sensation of her kiss, now lingering like a reminder of his own inaction. He peered cluelessly at her through his wet, bloody hair.

“Shit” she breathed “Oh shit.”

She whirled around, running for the door like it was an Olympic sprint and was gone from the house before Daryl could even blink. He released a strained breath and leaned back against the kitchen table, gripping the edge either side of him with knuckles turning white. His head lowered and he closed his eyes.

I guess this is where everything changes.

*

Had she stayed in Alexandria that night, she would have discovered that the group responsible for multiple murders in the town was indeed the same one from the city and the woods and it was apparent that their spotters had followed Rick's group back from a recent search. Biding their time, they’d waited until the gate guard was distracted and taken their chance, filtering into the community in the darkened corners of the streets and taking out the guards as quietly as possible.

Deanna was notified with enough time to usher the vulnerable into her attic and wait for what she hoped would not be the downfall of her dream.

But Jess fled from Aaron’s house like a bat out of hell, darting across the street and past the exhausted and re-grouping crowd, which contained Aaron and Eric, who exchanged a worried glance after seeing Daryl race in through their open front door in search of Jess. Eric started forwards with the intention of following her, but was stopped by Aaron taking his hand and slowly shaking his head.

Whatever happened, she needs to be alone.

Daryl emerged sometime after Jess with his crossbow on his back and holding onto her machete and knife. He trudged towards the waiting stares of Rick’s group, who were all in various states, but none of which were as stained red by blood as him. Carol ran out from the middle, skidding to a stop in front of him and gasping at the state of him. Asking if it was his blood, he solemnly shook his head, looked up at Aaron and Eric and told them not to go into the house until he’d been able to remove the bodies.

 Jess used water from her tank at the large sink in the diner’s kitchen. She stripped down to her bare skin and scrubbed until she was red raw, shivering and trying to wash off the dirt and the blood and the terror and the sadness. Her mind kept flicking back to being held down to the table and her thighs ached from the hand-shaped bruises forming.

Her own morality wasn’t something she dwelled on too much anymore. In her reasoning, she was a survivor, until she wasn’t anymore and that was no less certain even before the world died. But Daryl saving her life had shoved her, staring into the void of her own demise, forcing her to acknowledge that had he not been there in time, ultimately, it was the end for her. Being taken away and used or being killed there and then, it hadn’t mattered to her because there simply was no difference, both meant it was over and it was a thought that stabbed pure fear into every inch of her being.

Jess had come to the conclusion since the turn that everyone had a monster inside them in some way or another. That most people's monsters lay dormant, in a constant state of disuse because they were brought up a certain way, because they’re not wired that way or because they’ve been conditioned, in some way shape or form, to control them. Others, dance with their monsters and feed them and nourish them on their path to immorality, prison or hell. But those that become nothing but monsters at the end of the world were a new type of depravity to Jess. Those that chose to take that path, instead of surviving in the best way possible and retaining their humanity.

The violence she’d witnessed from Daryl had been like watching a horror movie on a screen, only the noise was real and she could smell the blood and the chopped up, mutilated remains would undoubtedly be an image that she would never forget. But she understood that the difference between Daryl and the men that charged Alexandria for a murder spree, was their monsters and now she’d seen with her own eyes just how vicious Daryl’s was. But he’d made a choice to be on the right path, using death only to protect and prevent, contrary to the men he’d killed.

 Wandering out to the wooden seats that still remained at the front of the diner from its days of use. She drew a thick blanket around her shoulders, covering her Star Wars hoodie and sweatpants. She quietly slid onto the seat and brought her legs up, crossing them underneath and studied the long grass between the rides as it swayed in the wind. The ringing of the bell on the gate tinkled through the metal structures and she leaned to one side, squinting and spotting Daryl with his body pressed against the gate and his fingers laced through the fencing.

Wearily and with a certain degree of frustration, she hauled herself up from the bench and padded to the gate, stopping in front of it and not even bothering to tell him that she wasn’t about to let him in.

Don’t mention the kiss. Please, Daryl.

Daryl got the message as soon as he saw her face. His clothing was still crimson in color but his skin had been cleaned enough to make him look human again. His hair was matted and his face was tired, his filthy fingers clung to the metal fencing.

Jess approached the gate and stopped two feet away, not bothering to tell him that she was not going to let him in. But Daryl could tell he wasn’t going to be allowed any further. It was written all over her face and she was paler than he’d ever seen before.

“Needed to know you’re OK” He said quietly, his voice croaky from the sheer ferocious nature of chopping a man into multiple pieces and expelling his rage through his throat.

“I’m not OK. I just need to be left alone.” She said honestly.

“What can I do?” he asked, ignoring the latter part of her sentence and focusing on the fact that she was not, in fact, okay.

I’m not going to mention the kiss. Now ain’t the time.

“Nothing.” She whispered, running a hand through her hair and clutching the blanket at her waist.

“Ya head alright? Ya took a beatin” He observed after noticing the cut to her right temple had been cleaned up and was luckily, smaller than he’d expected.

“Sore.” She shrugged. Concussion was a very real possibility and Jess was aware of that. Her head stung and ached with pain when she’d attempted to get some sleep and so she decided that she would think her night away while sitting on the bench outside.

“You okay other than that?” He continued

Usually always delighted to be in his company, when she looked at him, she experienced a bizarre mix of emotions, among which was humiliation, but also gratitude. She needed him to leave but didn’t possess the mental energy to find the most polite way to ask.

“Daryl-”

“-Don’t you dare argue with me right now, Jess.” He interrupted firmly. The gate rattled on its hinges when his boot hit the bottom of the frame, adding an element of irritation to his warning. “I said, are ya okay, other than that?”

“Some bad bruising on my thighs. That’s it.” She sighed, noting him shift and move closer to the gate, levelling his gaze with her.

“No, uh, I meant…” he pauses “they were gonna-”

“-I know.” She cut in “I know what they were going to do. I’m ok. Really.”

She didn’t need to file through the details, didn’t need to talk about how frightened she was or how her skin felt like it had been marred even though it didn’t get that far, she also didn’t want to talk about how she’d witnessed the man she loved bludgeon someone else to a pulp. What she needed was sleep and to start moving on.

“What you saw…” he croaked “…what ya saw me do…I’d never hurt you. Don’t be scared of me, Jess. Please.”

A lump formed in her throat at the thought of him believing her to be scared of him. He was the person she trusted more than anyone else in the world and he was responsible for her still being alive and able to step forward and entwine her fingers with his through the fence.

“Remember when I told you I’d kill anyone that tried to hurt you?” She asked. Daryl only nodded at the memory. “You did the same for me tonight. I’ll never be afraid of you.” She sniffed “I adore you.”

He unlaced his hands from the fence, pushing them back through once more, over hers and held them there tightly.

“I couldn’t stop. I just…couldn’t stop. Everything went black n’ there was just me n’ him and I thought of you and what he could’a…” He explained. “…I’m here. If ya need to talk. I’m here.”

“I’m okay, Daryl. It didn’t happen. You stopped it.” She assured him

He tried to step back but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of her hands, his feet moved but he was soon against the fence again, pleading with her to just let him in, into the fairground and into her thoughts. But she was more independent than he remembered and she needed to start to process it on her own. His eyes never left her, even when a long and intense silence lasted for almost a minute and his hands only gripped hers more.

“I’m the one you tell.” He rasped. “Me.”

She rested her head against his with the fence dividing them like a physical representation of the barrier that had been cemented between them from the beginning.

“Always” She agreed.

---  Tagged as requested ---

@lilred254​ @woundmetender​

Masterlist

[seb-owns-these-tatas]

Barely Alive (Chris Evans) (Pt. 2)

PART 1

Characters: Chris Evans x fem!reader

Summary: A zombie apocalypse happened on earth. You've decided to do something impulsive which will lead you into a life or death situation. But despite that, an unexpected savior came to rescue you and he was far more scared for your life than his. (Part 2)

Warnings: Reader is the same age as Tom Holland, but she's legal. Don't go pointing at me like I've created some sin yo. (Pls don't look at my Sebastian Stan oneshots 18+ hehehe 😅) I've read some rumour about H.C dating a 19 year old back then but I'm not sure if it's true. 😂

Words: 2,800+

A/N: I have no idea why I love writing this. Maybe because I love Resident Evil? Anyways, this is only PART 2 and there's going to be part 3. 😊 FEEDBACKS ARE VERY MUCH APPRECIATED! 

Disclaimer: PNG's used in edits are not mine even the GIF's too. However, the edits and oneshots are definitely from moi.

Dedicated: @readermia​ @mcuclintasha​ @itsallyscorner​

The drive back took only minutes. Once the truck stopped inside the huge factory, Chris had swiftly scooped you in his arms. People came stalking towards the car, surrounding the truck as known faces came in view. The man who was holding you had his heart beating so fast, too rapid even though he wasn't even running. "Is that--" The other Chris intervened, Chris Pratt to be specific. His green eyes bulged out of his eye sockets as he saw Y/N in his arms, all bloody and weak.

"She needs help!" The latter helplessly worded out, entirely shaken from your bruised form as he quickly strolled towards the part of the factory where there were sets of hospital beds. "Ch-Chris," You finally managed to hush a whisper, it was too faint to hear but Chris was too focused on you and so he heard. "I'm here," he panted, heartbeat thumping so fast. The constant worry unconsciously travelling towards his eyes which began to fill with tears. He was trying not to, so he kept on swallowing the jitters. "I'm not leaving your side," whispered the man who gently dropped you on the soft, white bed.

Your pained moans started to come as you felt his warmth gone in just a flash. You couldn't form a word nor any sentences that everything was starting to hurt again and it was too excruciating to begin with. "It's okay, Y/N. I'm here, everything's going to be just fine," Chris choked, hasty eyes finding someone for help and he saw Zoe came rushing to his side, asking what happened and what was wrong.

"She was ambushed by men, four were killed by her. Yet, Caesar had her on the ropes," he uttered pointedly, biting his lower lip in apprehension. He felt Y/N moan another painful one. Instinctively, he reached out his hand to grab onto her hand that wasn't bruised, caressing the pad of his thumb on top of hers to let her know that he was there for her.

It was obvious that Zoe would've seen it, and she did. But, she'd rather not acknowledge it. Chris wouldn't dare be in love with a girl half his age, plus the fact that she had a boyfriend would he?

"Caesar? Caesar Brown?" Zoe subtly shook her head, maneuvering towards the other side of the bed as she began taking care of Y/N. "He's dead, already dead." The latter swallowed a lump down his throat, peering down at the bruised woman. An ache forming inside his heart that began to fill with dread. "Shot to the head," he said almost straight to the point that it sounded remotely restrained.

"By who?" Zoe inserted a needle that made Y/N silently moan, a tear escaping the sides of her eyes in which Chris immediately wiped.

"Me,"

His sympathetic friend stopped in her tracks as she was grabbing a cotton ball, her back facing him. Well, killing wasn't new to the world especially when they were in a middle of a zombie apocalypse. Though, what was bemusing her was from the moment her friend knew Y/N went east to grab some resupplies, he immediately flew out of the base despite of how many people didn't want to come. Nobody wanted to be with Y/N because there was no possibility that there were no infected. The fact that not even her own boyfriend, 'William' stood by her side when she went on her own was like a death wish or an ambush by the infected.

Nonetheless, to her surprise she was actually ambushed by nasty people.

Chris didn't know a thing about her impulsive plan because he went west with the gang to find more survivors. Once he came back and knew Y/N was all alone grabbing resupplies with no back-up, he went completely berserk as there were hundreds of bad outcomes inside his head that will make him regret living in the world they were in.

Thus, he didn't risk it. He'd rather risk his life just for her. As for Zoe's understanding with how he was acting since a month ago, he was acting strange that even his ex-girlfriend who was with them came to notice.

He was always with Y/N. Where Y/N was, he was also there. When he was asked why he was being too overprotective of her, his answer could always make them nod because it seems like he was telling the truth.

"She's like a baby sister to me. Nothing more, nothing less."  

Yet, his actions tell otherwise.

"Please, Zoe. Please, I need you to help her, please..She's..just...please, help her." Chris begged, washing his face with his hands in frustration as he stared in nothingness. Avoiding the state where Y/N was in, appearing to feel like he was hurting to see her in pain.

He was confused and Zoe knew deep inside it was his heart who was in a puzzle and that was the truth.

"Alright, I'll do my best, Chris."

Days have passed and Y/N still hasn't woken up. Those days that he felt like she was barely alive was horribly agonizing for him that he felt like his days weren't normal without hearing her hideous laugh and seeing her youthful smiles. His days went by like he felt as if he wasn't awake. He felt horrible that he hadn't been back before she has made that sudden decision that not everybody supported.

He felt like his head was floating as it ached at the same time while he was explaining tactics and opinions to certain people who were gathered up in the middle of a room with chairs, tables, papers, maps and radios. "We head to Maryland," Chris suddenly paused, sighing deep as he stood in the middle of the room, a table and map flat in front of him. He cleared his throat and shifted his weight to his other foot as another shock of headache visited him, making him tightly shut his eyes.  

"Chris," Robert interrupted, analyzing what was happening to him. "You don't look too good," his friend stated as a matter of fact.

"I'm fine," Chris muttered more to himself, shaking his head to clear the head ache away. "So, where were we?"

"Maryland," Paul and Dave spoke at the same time with worried smiles on their faces. The latter nodded at that and tried to remember what he wanted to say before he was interrupted by his own head ache, but nothing. He remembered nothing as his thoughts were drifted to you who was currently in a coma.

"Ah, shit." he shook his head in disappointment before speaking an apology as he deeply sighed, a tight frown plastered on his face while he spun on his heels and left the room in which the team was definitely not used to besides his outgoing personality and large smiles that can get any human infected. Even Y/N.

The team looked at each other with knowing faces and bewildered eyes.

You were moved to a much safer room inside the factory where a hospital bed lays for you. In request by Chris, of course.

His frown tightened even more when he ended up leaning against the door to your room, watching you sleep, entirely motionless and his heart could feel the pricks of dread creep onto his heart for the hundredth time. He was feeling completely down in the dumps since you haven't woken up and it was tearing him apart.

(Just imagine him with the beard first, he’ll get to shave it soon. Hehehe)

"Dorito," Anthony revealed himself and appeared to walk beside him. A solemn look on his face. "You okay, man?"

It took a second for his friend to reply, "It's been three days," he lowly uttered, swallowing the sadness away, his melancholic blue eyes fixated on your form with his eyebrows cinched tight together. "She hasn't woken up since the last three days and I don't know if she will,"

"And you haven't taken at least one decent meal since the day it happened," his friend said with utmost concern. Anthony glance back to where people were encircled around a lit up bonfire. Y/N's boyfriend looking like he was having the best night of his life as he chugged on some beer while talking to some brunette lass. "You look more worried than William over there," he gestured to the back.

"Psh," Chris suddenly reacted, giving no attention to Y/N's boyfriend because as he was walking towards her room, he saw how her lover was coping up to her coma. He was enjoying.

"What kind of boyfriend even is he?" said Chris as he shook his head in disdain as he continued to state a fact. "You know your girlfriend's over here in a coma and he hasn't even visited her," the man mindlessly spat, sounding in much seeth.

"He did," Anthony butted in with a small grin. Remembering the day he saw William visit Y/N for five minutes and never came back. "But, it was only one time!" said the latter who was too irked to even talk about it.

"Kid was telling me he was scared to see her almost close to dying,"

"The kid's an asshat," Chris stated with a raise of his brow, folding his arms against his chest. "Woah, woah. Chris, you sound like a jealous man," There was no doubt, a little tone of mockery in his words. The latter huffed to himself as his eyes continued to gaze at your unmoving form.

"You sure you only see her as your baby sister?"

Chris continued to scowl as he was hearing him out. "What if you actually see yourself as her dad?" Anthony added with a huge grin that made him give him the stink eye.

"I sure as hell don't see you looking at her like she's your baby sister," His friend interrogated him as he was just stating the obvious. Chris couldn't say anything back. "You look at her very differently than you look at your real sisters," Anthony paused, lightly shoving Chris's shoulder to enlighten him. "Everybody knows how you look at her,"

"How do I even look at her, Anthony?" questioned Chris in curiosity. His eyes completely unreadable. Definitely blank. He was an actor after all. "You give her the look whenever the Russo's shout action as Steve Rogers stares at Peggy Carter," his friend trailed off.

"I know she's young and all, but she's legal and I don't see anything wrong about it--" Anthony added for Chris, smirking in the process as a thought came in mind. "--That didn't stop Henry Cavill from dating a 19 year old woman back then,"

Chris couldn't help a snicker leave his cherry red lips, "Stop before he hears you," he quietly chortled. Shaking his head at his friend's abrupt theories. "As I was saying," added Anthony with a nod. "Know your priorities, follow your heart because it's already the end of the world, Dude."

"--I thought Resident Evil or the Walking dead wasn't real, but here we are."

There was a sudden silence that wrapped them both together. Their gazes fixated on you who seemed to be barely alive from your lack of presence. No matter what Chris does in his everyday life, he couldn't get to push himself harder because of the reality that you were facing.

He couldn't accept that maybe it was because of him. You got hurt because he wasn't around.

"Try and think about your feelings and stop being serious like Steve Rogers. It's freaking me out, "

Feelings. All Chris felt was platonic. In his head, he knows his actions meant nothing. It was neither romantic nor sexual. Yet, to some of his close friends or family knew his heart says otherwise.

"Anthony, I'm not in love with her," His forehead creased a little too deeply at his sudden confession. His heart feeling as if it began to drop more stones on top of it.

"Sureeee, Christopher." bantered Anthony, his voice entirely full of contempt. "You know, you're too old to be an indenial boy already."

The guilty man huffed at the back of his mind as he tightly bit his lip to refrain from saying anything more. His words earlier seem like it wasn't right. It feels as if he made himself more frustrated and overwrought. He anxiously bit the underside of his own lips as he blankly stared out of nowhere, seeming to be in too deep inside his thoughts.

To catch his friend's attention, Anthony managed to tap his shoulder to rip him off from drifting into another world.

"So, what's the deal for tomorrow?"

Chris did a double-take, his expression solemn as he was staring straight at your motionless body laying peacefully on top of the hospital bed. He subtly cleared his throat, eyebrows knotted in a twist.

"We head to Maryland, bring back survivors since Scarlett had evidences that there are atleast thirty of them. Some are kids. Some are already suffering from starvation. We might need tons of back-up because the place can be a trap. Lots of infected come by there every now and then as it was said by Hiddleston. We need to take risks,"

Anthony kept his eyes fixated on his friend. A small grin plastered on his face as it reached from ear to ear. "Noted, Cap."

"Shut it, Ant." he playfully spat with another shake of his head. Chest puffed up and arms folded together.

"Stop being an indenial bitch before it's too late,"

"I told you, I can only see her as--"

Anthony interrupted his sentence like he knew what he was about to say next, "--my baby sister, nothing more. Nothing less. Alright, alright. I'll leave you to it,"

Chris seemed to drift off somewhere after a minute or two. His thoughts suddenly were in a haywire just by looking at you and it was frustrating him why he was feeling stressed because of everything.

It's not like living in a zombie apocalypse wasn't as stressful as before.

Anthony gave Chris a manly pat on his back, turning around his heels with a smile. "I've managed to sneak up a stack of Heineken when we were back at that abandoned mall. Caesar and his friends had it,"

Chris had his eyes solely on you, his lively blue eyes now filled with dread and uncertainty. Staring at every bruise on every parts of your body and cursing the heavens why Caesar had found you vulnerable to the point that he wanted to dominate you into demise.

Chris wasn't in love with you. No. It was impossible.

Anthony's laugh pulled him off his head space. His next words making him lift a small smile on  his face.

"You're free to chug it all down, man."

Ya’ like it? GO REBLOG AND GIVE THIS POST A HEART! Heehee!

XOXO, TATA

[bitsandbobsandstuff]

A love that never leaves (Epilogue)

Summary: Sometimes when you go looking for the past, you find things you never expected. When an accident brings him face to face with something he never knew he lost, Bucky Barnes begins to understand an age old truth – it’s so easy, sometimes, to love the things that destroy us.

Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader Warnings: Bad language. Death by fluff.

A/N: Here we have a visit from a very hungry super soldier, an enormous helping of domestic bliss, and an unexpected surprise for Bucky. Thank you to everyone who stuck with me on this little adventure. I appreciate every bit of encouragement and support, and I hope you enjoy the end! ♥️

If you’re interested in the song the boys are whistling, it’s a war song from 1942 “Praise the Lord and Pass the Ammunition.” You can find it on Spotify. ☺️

Links don’t work, so if you want to access the full ALTNL Masterlist, just click the MASTERLIST header on my blog.

Previously...

Slipping a knife from his boot, he crouches down and digs his blade into the tree. With a few twists of his wrist, he carves a rough cross deep into the base of the tree trunk. He gazes at the small token for a minute, before sliding the knife back into his boot.

Standing with an inaudible sigh, he backs away. Straightens himself up. Snaps his feet together and offers a sharp salute to the unmarked grave.

“Rest easy, Soldier,” he murmurs.

And then Sergeant Bucky Barnes turns and heads home.

*****

One month later

Out by the woodshed, Bucky lifts the hem of his shirt and wipes the sweat from his face. Sorting through the pile of wood, he finds the best piece, balancing it on the chopping block. With an easy swing, the sharp blade arcs through the air and the pieces tumble into the growing pile.

Chopping wood seems unnecessary this late in the season, but he likes the work. Manual labor feels cathartic, and he relishes the pull of his muscles with each swing. Besides, even though he runs hot, he knows she doesn’t. If he has to put in some elbow grease to keep her warm, he’s happy to do it.

Spring is so tantalizingly close, he can almost taste it.

More and more of the ever-present world of white disappears daily, the shining sun turning the world beyond the cabin into a slushy mess of mud. So muddy in fact, they’ve gotten her truck stuck twice.

The first time they got it out no problem, but the second time - Bucky has that memory tucked away forever. While the wheels spun uselessly, he got out to push, which was a nice idea in theory. Until the truck leapt forward and he face planted in the mud. When she hit the brakes and jumped out, she ran around back to find him staggering to his feet, covered head to toe in black muck.

Of course, her surprised laughter turned to shrieking when he chased her through the slop until he caught her, picked her up, and threw her in a snowbank, his fingers tickling the entire time. They rode home dripping wet and covered in mud, barely able to stop laughing. When they arrived, Bucky pulled her into the shower with him until they were both perfectly clean and thoroughly interested in getting dirty again.

Yes, spring is a magical time.

Life feels new. After a long, cold, dark winter, he can finally see the other side and everything it offers. It’s like being born again, his life with her brimming with hope.

Taking a deep breath of the clean air, he selects another chunk of wood.

Above the sharp thwack of the ax, he hears a faint sound floating on the breeze.

Shading his eyes, he sees a figure walking along the road. Even from here, he sees a bright red stocking hat pulled low over his head, a hitchhiker’s bag strapped to his back. There is a brief flutter of nerves, before his stomach eases. The slope of broad shoulders and bouncing walk are telltale signs, but then he hears the whistle of a familiar song. Embedding the ax into the chopping block with a dull thunk, he whistles the tune in return. Strange words he unconsciously knows from another time.

Praise the Lord, we’re on a mighty mission

All aboard, we ain’t a-goin fishin’

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition

And we’ll all stay free

Dusting off his hands, Bucky ambles down to meet the man, a relaxed grin on his face.

“Still singing that damn song?” Bucky greets him. “Anyone tell you the war is over?”

Steve Rogers pulls off his stocking hat with a theatrical groan and uses it to mop the sweat from his face.

“Classics never die,” he huffs. Running sweaty fingers through snarls of golden hair, it sticks straight up in an awkward mohawk. “God damn, this was a fuckin’ walk. You got anything to eat? I’m starving.”

Grabbing Steve in a giant bear hug, Bucky lifts him off his feet and Steve squawks in protest.

“You’re such a little shit. Come inside. Got someone you need to see.”

*****

On the porch, Bucky removes his mud-covered boots and neatly lines them up beside the front door; raising his eyebrows, he points for Steve to do the same. Steve grins at the domesticity and follows suit, before following him inside.

“Hey darlin’?” Bucky calls and there’s an answering shout from above.

Dressed in old wellies, jeans, and a knobby grey fisherman’s sweater she appears, trying to zip up her jacket as she trots down the stairs.

“Buck, if you actually want potato soup tonight, I have to go into town. I didn’t realize when you said you ate all the bacon, you literally ate all the bacon. There were three pounds of it, how did you even -” looking up, she stops.

Astonishment floods Steve’s face when he sees her, but he schools it quickly. Standing up straighter, he nervously tries to smooth his hair, before eventually recognizing the futility and shoving his hands in his pockets. He gives her a bashful smile instead.

“Hey. I’m, uh, sorry for just showing up. Probably should have called, I just -”

The words are struck from his lungs when she bounds forward and throws her arms around him, knocking him back a step. Steve hugs her tight, glancing in surprise at Bucky who looks on fondly.

“You never have to call, Captain Rogers. You’re always welcome.”

“Christ, no,” Steve grimaces when he releases her. “Call me Steve, please. Get enough of that Captain bullshit at home.” Catching himself, he looks momentarily horrified. “Shit, I mean shoot, sorry, pardon my language.”

“Please,” she says with a laugh. Elbowing Bucky, she winks. “Let’s not pretend I haven’t heard worse from him.”

Wrinkling his nose, Bucky wraps a playful arm around her neck. “I told you, it’s how I spice up my vocabulary. Science says swearing makes me smart.”

Rolling her eyes, she pokes her fingers into his belly and he grunts breathlessly.

“God, you two are adorable,” Steve says seriously. “I think I’m gonna vomit.”

Placing his whole hand over Steve’s face, Bucky shoves him away while she laughs, her arm curving around his waist.

“Want me to go warm up the truck? Pull it around for you?” Bucky asks, and she kisses his cheek.

“No, I’m good. Stay here and catch up. Maybe get Steve some food, I’d hate for him to starve,” she says.

“I love her,” Steve stage whispers.

Grabbing a bundle of tote bags, she heads outside, stomping carelessly through the muddy yard. On the sunny porch, the two men stand shoulder to shoulder, waving as she drives the clunky old truck down toward town. Once it disappears, Bucky turns to Steve and claps him on the back.

“Come on asshole, I’ll fix you some breakfast.”

*****

One carton of eggs and a loaf of bread later, they sit on the porch with steaming cups of coffee. Bucky tucks an errant strand of hair behind his ear as he leans forward, elbows on his knees. Steve sits back in his chair, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles.

“It all sounds insane, doesn’t it?” Bucky asks quietly.

Fiddling with his coffee cup, Steve scratches absently at his beard. “Maybe. Maybe not. We always knew there were others. Whatever they did to him, it wasn’t perfect, but it must’ve been enough for him to survive. Whatever survive means.”

“Yeah. I guess so. ”

Taking a long drink of coffee, Steve frowns at his boots before looking up to Bucky. “So, you buried him then?”

There’s a defiant edge to Bucky’s voice when he responds.

“Just felt right. He was a soldier, not a lab rat.”

Steve shrugs casually as he sits forward. “I get it, don’t need to convince me. We don’t have to tell anyone.”

Amused at the blatant lack of adherence to the precious world of protocol, Bucky gasps.

“Goodness gracious, I’m clutching my fuckin’ pearls. Did I just convince Captain America to commit treason?”

“Well you always were a terrible influence. So many bad decisions, all because of you,” Steve says loftily.

“You’re so full of shit,” Bucky laughs. Steve grins wickedly, knowing full well all their youthful indiscretions came from his ridiculous decisions; not that he’ll ever admit that one to Bucky.

At the thought of their past though - it makes him wonder.

“Can I ask something?”

“Hit me,” Bucky says easily. There are a couple minutes of silence, while Steve tries to find the words he wants.

“When she wipes memories, that’s - that’s it? They’re gone for good? We couldn’t - like, there’s no chance of getting them back?”

Bucky smiles ruefully. “No. I was curious, so I asked. But she said it was absolute. Looked so miserable when she told me, I’m sure as shit not mentioning it again. Besides,” he contemplates the blue sky beyond the porch railing, “it doesn’t matter. What do I need all that for anyway? Got her. Got you. That’s enough.”

The relief in Steve’s reply is palpable. “Good. I hated your dumbass running around trying to dig up the past.”

“Me too,” Bucky sighs. “Only did it ‘cause I thought I should. But now - I’m just worrying about the future. Those are the only memories I need.”

They sit in companionable silence, gazing out into the cool morning. In the treetops, birds chatter back and forth, and Steve feels himself relax. An unfamiliar peacefulness steals over him, filling him from head to toe; he almost doesn’t hear the quiet question.

“Stevie?” Looking sideways, he finds Bucky watching him calmly. “I don’t want to do it anymore. I’m tired. Just want a normal life, a home with her. Something quiet. Is that - will that be okay?”

The hesitancy in Bucky’s voice hits Steve like a fist to the face. Turning away, he blinks back tears and clears his throat.

“Yeah. Yeah, Buck. Of course that’s okay.”

That unspoken weight always dragging Bucky down disappears. With Steve’s words, the decades seem to fall away and there - the fleeting image of Sergeant James Barnes flashes across his features. Lighter. Softer. Carefree and full of laughter, wanting nothing more than to hang up his boots and find a warm home with the girl he loves.

“Thanks,” Bucky whispers looking back into the clear morning, a contented smile on his lips.

With the crisp breeze swirling around them, the soldiers sit in silence. One light haired and one dark, with two matching pairs of blue eyes, and two gigantic hearts.

*****

The sun is just beginning to sink when Bucky announces he’s going to go clean up the woodpile before it gets dark. The night air blows sharp when he opens the door, ushering in the wintery chill that still insists on arriving when darkness falls.

“Nah, stay here and catch up,” he urges, when Steve goes to grab his jacket. “It’ll just take me a few minutes.”

“Thanks love,” she murmurs and Bucky beams at the pet name, a happy bounce in his step as he heads outside. Grinning at Steve, she goes to the refrigerator and pulls out two bottles of beer from the depths, popping the tops and handing one to him.

“Cheers,” she says, clinking them together and he nods shyly. Pulling out knives and cutting boards and stock pots and skillets, she assembles everything for the potato soup Bucky begs her to make at least once a week. Salted water is simmering on the stovetop, before Steve finally speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Scrubbing potatoes, she looks up in surprise. “Sorry for what?”

Steeling his nerves, Steve frowns. “For not coming back. For letting you deal with his death alone. Always promised him, if something happened, I’d do my best to take care of you. And then I just -” he breaks off.

Wiping her hands on a towel, she reaches over the counter and squeezes his hand. “You just saved the world,” she says gently.

Swallowing hard, Steve looks down. “Still. My best friend’s girl, and I let her down. I let both of you down.”

Releasing his hand, she picks up her knife and starts dicing the potatoes.

“No, you didn’t. If I’ve learned nothing else in this life, it’s that you can’t stay in the past. What’s done is done, and now we move on. We’re all here now, Steve,” she says quietly. “That’s all that matters.”

Taking a deep breath, Steve lets the tension of his apology melt away. “He always said you were smart.”

“Hmmm, did he now?” she says with a mischievous grin and Steve can’t help the responding smile; it feels infectious.

The kitchen radio plays in the background, filling the small kitchen with the punchy sound of trumpets and piano, the world of old French jazz. Steve watches her cook, a thoughtful expression on his face.

“How come - how come you didn’t call? Didn’t tell us you were here?”

Without replying, she lays out slices of bacon and starts chopping. Immersed in her task, it takes her a minute to respond.

“When I heard they found you, I almost came to New York. But then, I imagined telling you what happened and - I was too ashamed.” Setting the knife down, she looks up and he sees deep sadness in her eyes. “The last time I saw him, he had no clue who I was, and I had no idea if he was still alive. It all seemed impossible. And then I saw him come back, and I just - you were with him and I was so relieved. He had you. I knew you’d do everything in your power to help him recover. After what I did, I didn’t think I should be part of that.”

Canting her head down, he sees her shoulders slump slightly. Steve knows that feeling better than anyone, what it means when you can’t save someone. Particularly when you can’t save Bucky Barnes.

“Back then, you saved him. During the war. I hope you understand, I hope you know.”

She doesn’t speak, but finally looks up. “Know what?”

He gives her a gentle smile. “How much he loved you. Never shut up about it. Used to drive us all crazy with all his sighing and his mooning around.”

The brilliant smile she gives him lights up her whole face and Steve feels his own lips curve in response. Both of them automatically glance toward the front door when they hear Bucky’s boots clomping up the porch steps.

“I know,” she says, her eyes shining bright. “He tells me every day.”

*****

Steve has more than a thousand stories about Bucky, from growing up in Brooklyn to traipsing across the European front to all their avenging these past few years, and unfortunately for Bucky, Steve seems dead set on relaying every stupid thing Bucky’s ever done. The worst part is, he can’t even refute the stories - Steve could be making everything up, and Bucky can’t even call him out on it.

A fact he continually points out and a fact Steve blithely dismisses.

“Trust me,” he says with a sage nod. “Captain America would never lie.”

“That is the biggest crock of shit I ever heard,” Bucky states. He looks mildly put out when she shushes him.

“Hush Bucky, I need to hear this story.”

“Uh, no you most certainly do not,” he replies, as Steve tells about the time him, Bucky, and Sam were stuck in a safe house in Mexico and every time Bucky went to sleep, Sam moved everything in the apartment three inches before convincing Bucky the place was haunted.

“Well for fuck’s sake, there are aliens aren’t there?” Bucky exclaims. “Why the hell not ghosts?”

Scooping up a huge spoonful of soup, Steve swallows it down and gives him a serious look. “That’s true Buck. And that’s why I supported your idea of having a séance to contact the ghost. It seemed like the sensible thing to do.”

“I hate your face so hard. Remind me why you’re here again?” Bucky groans. Leaning back, he slings an arm around her chair and tucks his face against her neck. “Don’t believe anything he says. He lies,” his plea is muffled.

Patting his head, she scratches her fingers in his hair just like he likes, and he hums delightedly. “Don’t worry, I think you’re very adorable.”

“I am very adorable,” Bucky mumbles.

Lifting up his bowl, Steve slurps down the rest of his soup; smacking his lips, he gives them a mysterious smile. “Actually, there was another reason I came to visit.”

Bucky pulls away from her and glares at him. “Was it to destroy my happiness?”

“No, that’s just a fringe benefit,” Steve says cheerfully. Shoving away from the table, he goes to his oversized backpack and starts digging. Pulling something free, he comes back to the table and sets a cloth bag in front of Bucky.

“It’s a bag,” Bucky deadpans. “Inside a bag.”

“Smartass. Open it.”

Wiggling his eyebrows at her, Bucky un-cinches the bag and pulls out a leather satchel.

“It’s a bag, inside a bag, inside - a bag.”

“Did anyone ever tell you you’re hilarious?”

“Literally everyone who’s met me,” Bucky says with a grin. Glancing curiously at the worn brown leather, his smile begins to fade. Something about the bag seems insanely familiar, and he racks his brain -

And he catches his breath. Wide-eyed, he looks back up at Steve.

“Wait. Is this -“

“Yep,” Steve says, eyes sparkling. “You’d left it back at the base camp, must’ve gotten stuck in some of the camp containers they shipped to headquarters. Anyway, I spent the last three weeks banging around the SHIELD archives trying to see if I could find anything - there’s so much shit down there by the way, like an episode of hoarders - and then I was digging through this moldy ass box, and there it was.”

“My bag,” Bucky marvels. Excitement fills his face, bright sunrise in the evening. “From the war, from before. All my stuff.”

“All your memories,” she says breathlessly, squeezing his thigh.

“Go on,” Steve encourages. “Open the damn thing, I’m dying to know what the hell you kept in there. You never let me see anything.”

The leather straps are fastened tight, decades of moisture and dust creating a concrete knot that takes several minutes to unravel. It creaks irritably when it finally gives way and Bucky tugs it open. One by one, he pulls out items.

A book appears first. Front cover torn, they see a copy of ‘A Tree Grows in Brooklyn’, one of the compact armed service editions published for soldiers. Some of the pages are stuck together and as he thumbs through it, Bucky sees familiar handwriting. Notes he scribbled in the margins, passages he underlined. Words and phrases pop out like friendly messages from another life. Flipping toward the end, he finds his favorite line, one that caught his fancy when he read the book again last year.

“Dear God,” he reads, voice wobbling slightly, “let me be something, every minute of every hour of my life.”

He touches the words with a cautious metal finger and looks up to find her watching him, a soft look in her eyes. Leaning over, he gives her a kiss and she brushes his hair back.

“You were always something, no question about that,” she says and Bucky smiles.

The next item is a thick sheaf of papers. Folded into neat rectangles are a set of maps, the ones he and Steve received from the Priest in her village, before they headed out on that last mission.

“Oops,” Steve says sheepishly. “Guess we never did get those back to the church.”

Two white, army issued packs of cigarettes follow; when Bucky tips out a Lucky Strike, it crumbles to powder in his fingers. His silver lighter is next, scales of brownish-red rest covering one side. As he tries to light it, the coils give a harsh screech.

“Okay, I was gonna give up smoking anyway,” he shrugs.

When he pulls out a dented flask and unscrews the cap, a faint wisp of whiskey floats out. Steve makes a gagging noise and shudders.

“Holy hell, I remember that garbage. Dugan bought it off a medic at a field hospital in Germany. Cross my heart, it was the worst shit I ever tasted. Gave me nightmares.”

“I remember it too,” she pipes up, looking slightly nauseated. “He convinced me to try it once and I haven’t tried whiskey since.”

Bucky grins at them both and plunges his hand into the bag again, this time, jerking back with a curse. Cautiously, he reaches in again and discovers an open switchblade. Carved below the marble handle in flaking gold are the letters JBB.

“Becca gave that to you, before you shipped out,” Steve says quietly. “She sold her pearl earrings to buy it.”

Rubbing the white marble gingerly, Bucky gently folds down the blade and sets it carefully aside. It hurts for a minute, and his throat works hard to swallow down the emotion.

“Anything else in there?” she nudges lightly, and he shakes himself from the reverie.

Reaching into the bag, his hand bumps something. Buried at the bottom, he feels a soft bundle, a rectangular parcel wrapped in old green cloth. When he pulls it free, he has to unwind it several times before they discover what lies beneath.

Bucky blinks when he sees it, his heart leaping at her soft exclamation.

“My letters,” she says, wrapping her arm around him and curling closer.

“Your letters,” he repeats faintly. Sudden tears fill his eyes and he surreptitiously wipes them away, gruffly clearing his throat.

Handling the paper reverently, he brushes his fingers over the faded handwriting. The whole bundle is tied together with a broken boot lace, and it takes a few tugs before it releases.

Eleven letters.

Eleven letters, written just for him. Eleven of his very own memories, real and tangible and full of her love. Something he knows he kept in his coat pocket every day, drawing comfort and strength from her words, while he battled through the horrors of that unending war.

Unfolding the first one, he takes a deep breath.

10 March 1944

Dear Jimmy,

I wanted to write this on your birthday, so I could fill it full of all the things I wish we could do, if you were here. Maybe next year, everything will be possible. The war will be over, and your day would look something like this.

We could spend it in Paris, how lovely that might be! We could sleep in, no need to get up early. I might wake you up with a kiss, one on your cheek, then on your nose, then on your lips, and then I’d make you breakfast in bed, strong coffee and fried eggs and sizzling slices of bacon and fresh croissants, and we could spend the morning reading the papers and laying in the sun. Then we might go for walk down by the Seine, see the bridges and the booksellers, throw coins in the river and make wishes. Eat chocolate cake and drink bottles of wine. Whatever your heart desires my love, it would be your day. Maybe that night, we would be walking home, and hear a musician playing in the streets and we could stop and dance. Just you and me, holding each other in the moonlight.

And when we get home, I think I’ll take you upstairs to soft sheets and soft pillows and all kinds of things that are rather inappropriate for this letter, but I can certainly tell you one thing - sleep would not be on our minds.

Something to dream about for next year.

But if you remember nothing else on your birthday, I hope you will remember there’s a girl in France who loves you with all her heart.

6 June 1944

…and please don’t ever tell Steve, but I laughed forever at your letter. Such a demure, solemn man when I met him, I keep picturing him covered in mud and so frustrated with all of you! I do hope his knees are feeling better, give him a hug from me.

Sending you all my love, now and always.

19 August 1944

Dear Jimmy,

I’ve never been to a drive-in movie, but I must tell you, I think it sounds wonderful. I have no doubt we could show those kids a thing or two, because the simple truth is that I could spend my entire life kissing you. There would be no need to ever stop, I know that much.

The days of sunlight are long now, and so often I lay out in the field behind the house, where the grass grows tall and the world smells like wildflowers, and I think of you until long after the stars appear. The sweet taste of your lips, the rough feel of your hands, the sound of your voice when you say my name. How much I love the red highlights in your beard and the dimple in your chin and the way you purr like a house-cat when I scratch my fingers through your hair. Everything you are, your kind heart and your curious soul, it fills me with a wanting I cannot explain.

Do you know, when I fall sleep, your face is the last thing on my mind? Sometimes I still believe this is a God, because He lets you into my dreams every single night.

30 December 1944

My love,

Just this morning, I let you go again. Back into this wretched war. It feels unforgivable, letting you leave. My heart fled with you and I admit, tonight I am having trouble remembering to breath.

You are the one thing that gets me through everything. Isn’t that so strange? I had no idea my heart missed you, until the day we met. There are so many things I want to say to you. Things I want you to know about me, who I was and who I am. So many things I want to learn about you.

But now, if I concentrate hard enough, I can almost hear your voice. It’s there in that lost place between sleep and awake, where you tell me good night darling, that Brooklyn drawl coloring your words.

There is nothing I want more than a life with you. Sitting on the porch while the sun sets, holding your hand. Falling asleep wrapped in your arms. Loving you until there is nothing but grey left in your hair. I miss you so much. Please, please, please come home soon.

Resting her head on Bucky’s shoulder as he reads, she follows along in silence, reliving every word, every phrase, every bit of punctuation. How familiar it seems, even after all this time.

When Bucky finally sets the last letter down, he turns to her. Tipping his head down, he touches his forehead to hers and closes his eyes; cradling his face in her hands, she rubs her thumb over his lips. Neither one speaks. Old letters and faded memories and quiet breaths are the only words they need.

*****

The evening is late when Steve flops on the couch and gets comfortable. Digging through the hall closet, Bucky returns with a couple pillows and a fuzzy blanket and tosses them over.

“Alright Rogers. You need a teddy bear? Glass of milk? Bedtime story? Should I check under the couch for monsters?” he asks and Steve flips him off with a huge yawn.

“G’night, asshole.”

“Night, punk.”

Flipping off the lights, they leave him snug in the warm darkness downstairs, the flames burning low in the fireplace. Steve watches as they walk upstairs together, Bucky patting her on the butt as she walks ahead, muttering something that makes her laugh. Buried in the couch cushions, he smiles drowsily as he listens to their quiet voices get ready for bed, the calming footsteps above, the soothing laughter gliding down the stairs.

It sounds perfect.

Like a home.

Slowly and surely, the firelight lulls him to sleep.

*****

Standing in the bedroom doorway, her mouth curves up at the image.

Leaning against a pile of pillows, Bucky sits with all his letters spread around him, shuffling through them again. They haven’t left his hands all evening, so perfectly enamored with his small treasure, something he never expected.

“Would you like me to write them for you again? So you have fresh copies?”

Squinting up at her, he contemplates the offer, before shaking his head.

“Nah, already have them memorized. Besides, now you can write me new ones. I like to be romanced.”

“Hmm. I had no idea this relationship would be so much work,” she teases.

Gathering up the letters, he places each in the correct envelope, wraps them back up in a fresh piece of cloth, and tucks them into the drawer of his nightstand. Giving her an outrageously sultry look, he clicks off the lamp and pats the bed next to him invitingly.

Slipping under the sheets, she immediately tucks her cold toes against his leg and he yelps at the icy feel, but lifts his arm automatically, letting her nestle into her favorite spot against his chest.

“Good god, you need to wear socks to bed,” he says with a shiver.

“No, I don’t. I have you,” she says happily.

Smothering a laugh, he rolls to face her. Face to face on the same pillow, two pairs of eyes adjust to the dark room. When she traces the back of her knuckles down his cheek, he catches her hand and presses a kiss to her wrist.

“Love you,” he whispers.

“Love you,” she breathes.

Comfortable silence fills the room, and as the minutes tick by, her eyes grow heavy. Sleep never comes easy for him, so Bucky watches her instead, content to fill his sleeplessness with nothing more than the curves and shadows of her face. He can hear her heartbeat slow, her breathing steady, and right before she goes under, a thought pops into his head.

“Darlin’, can I ask you something?”

“Course,” she says sleepily.

“All the stuff you’ve kept over the years, what you had hidden around the house. Why’d you do that? Hide it that way?”

Slow fingers trace up his chest as she thinks, and her voice is low and raspy with a reply.

“I know what it means to lose everything you’ve ever known. Instead of having it all up here,” and she taps her forehead, “I keep things everywhere. Never all together, so I can’t lose everything at once.”

“Are there more things in the house?” he asks curiously, and she hums.

“Lots more,” she answers, and snuggles closer. Closing her eyes, she presses her lips to his skin. “Can I tell you more tomorrow?”

“Sure,” he murmurs.

A moment later, her deep, even breaths tickle his chest and Bucky keeps watching, mesmerized by the sight. Everything he ever wanted, everything he ever needed, right there. Wrapped up in his arms.

Around them, the room is blanketed in darkness, deep blacks and shades of gray and he thinks about all those memories he’s collected. All that color, good and bad, and what it means to have a past. And then he thinks about the future, free from the turmoil of war, with nothing ahead but the delicate blue of her cool touches and the bright gold of her sunny smiles and the rainbow of color he hears when she laughs.

So many colors. So much time.

The paintbrush in his head lays down to dream. Closing his eyes, Bucky drifts to sleep.

*****

[determinationisnotcrash]

Red to the Rescue! Value of True Companions

Another @gbpack-discord oneshot! An action one where Sabre, Impact, and Red team up to fight a mechanical dragon.

Impact, the Blaster raptor GB Papyrus belongs to me!

Sabre the part time seiyuu the mysterious Blaster from an unknown timeline belongs to @paddie-ut

Red the GB Fell Sans belongs to @goosygander

Everything was going perfectly – almost too perfectly. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and everyone around town seemed to be in a great mood. …Perhaps at that time, that should have been cause for concern. After all, when an amazing stroke of good luck came, what usually followed was…

***

Interlink City

Impact applauded his friend, lightly clapping his mechanical floating hands as they departed from the recording studio. “Splendid work on your performance, Sabre! You did a wonderful job. It was like I was seeing Heero Yuy in the flesh!”

That comment drew a slight chuckle out of the small quadrupedal bone beast. “Heh, funny you say that. I don’t have any flesh. And your performance wasn’t half-bad, either. Very accurate at portraying the larger-than-life villain type.”

The blind man was unable to see it, but the raptor nevertheless took a small bow. “I appreciate the compliment! I’m glad to know that I at least remain successful in that field. After all…” Impact cleared his throat, putting on his best impression of the Mad Dummy’s voice. “My destiny is already smeared with blood. I won’t be talked out of any transgressions! I’ll live right to the bitter end – the hard life of a warrior!”

“Yes… Well then, what do you want to do now? Find another of those great places to eat? I’ll treat you to a meal this time. Mind, you’ll need to lead the way.”

The Papyrus beamed in response to the Sans’ generosity. “I would love to! Let’s go!” Head held high with pride of a job well-done, he started to head in the direction of the most economical restaurant he could think of… only to realise the small Blaster wasn’t following. “Sabre…?”

Impact turned back to see the dogman sniffing around on a ground like a… well… dog, muttering to himself. “This scent… it’s faint, but…” Sensing the presence of his friend nearby, likely watching him, he felt his face heat up. “Ah, Impact… I just detected something strange. I think… we’re being followed. By something from your world.”

The scent… where was the scent…? He kept sniffing in all directions, like a game of Hot and Cold, until he found the direction it was the strongest in. His nose led his sightless gaze upwards, causing him to carefully rise up onto his hind legs. “Impact… can you look in the direction my muzzle is pointing?”

“Doing it now.” His functional (in contrast to Sabre’s) eyes followed his friend’s… right up to one of the tall buildings next to them. Peering right over the edge were two strange, ball-like contraptions. They both had a metallic silver sheen, smooth all over, except with one camera for an eye. They almost looked like creepier cyclops versions of mascot characters from a popular mecha show Impact’s brother loved to watch.

Before he could take in more of their appearance, they abruptly jolted and flashed, as if startled. Their cameras blinked rapidly, before they ‘jumped’ off the building’s roof, landing on the pavement and starting to roll away.

Combat data collection drones…!? But all the two skeletons were doing was a part time job! Unless… oh, no… Were they analysing their physical properties!? Impact didn’t know everything about Sabre’s past yet, but he did know what the small blind man could become, and what that thing could do. If that information got into the hands of literally anyone… it would spell certain disaster.

“GET BACK HERE---!”

Impact immediately gave chase to the balls, Sabre following close behind so as not to lose him in the crowd of the city. They were sprinting with all their might, at far greater speeds than an ordinary human could go. Yet the strange metal spheres stayed just out of their reach. They were clearly engineered for speed.

Unbeknownst to both of them, one of their allies also happened to be in the city at the time, raising funds for the party in his own way by selling hotdogs. They both brushed against him in a rush, not even noticing his presence in their focus. The wind stirred up by Impact was almost enough to bowl him over, sending sausages and condiments alike flying.

Naturally, this was enough for him to notice the two skeletons and wonder just what the hell they were doing. Wiping the mess off his black leather jacket with a grumble, he joined in on the chase. He wasn’t as fast a runner as the other two, but with dedication, he would eventually be able to catch up.

***

“SLOW DOWN, ALREADY…!” Impact accidentally roared, slamming his mechanical hands over his muzzle when the realisation hit him. By now, they had done a full lap of the city, before the two spheres retreated into a nearby lake.

What kind of energy did the things run on!? Wouldn’t such small things have run down to nothing by now? Impact was still fine, but Sabre was starting to tire… Just where (and who) were these things headed to!?

The moment Impact wondered that, his question was answered. Of course, it wasn’t anything good. The twin spheres jumped into the water with a plop… and immediately after, two metallic dragon heads attached to long, cable-like necks ripped out of the lake’s surface! A terrible shriek vibrated the air, sending civilians running for their lives in terror!

“T-that’s no data gathering unit!” Impact realised, horror welling up inside him. “It’s an extermination unit! The enemy must have sent it here to clear the land of ‘pests’!”

As if confirming the statement, one of the heads lunged at him, a vicious deadly snake about to bite!

“OH SHI…!” Impact scrambled to respond. Neither he nor Sabre had a Mechanical Guardian on them, so they didn’t have much in the way of firepower. Fortunately, they weren’t so foolish as to walk around an unfamiliar location completely unarmed! Just like a movie cowboy, he reached within his coat, whipped out a gunblade, and fired several pinpoint shots! All within the span of under a second!

However, quick reflexes didn’t save him! The Blaster raptor yelped in as pain seared through his chest! “W-what the…!? What just… How did…” When he looked down at himself, he couldn’t believe his eyes: the projectiles the metal dragon sent at him… were his own bullets!? A reflection ability!?

He didn’t have more time to process this before the head barrelled straight into him!

“Blurgh…!” Harsh, serrated jaws clamped tight around his ribcage, causing the Papyrus to cough up blood for the… he lost count of how many times that happened in his life. He was actually surprised he hadn’t received any permanent damages from such injuries.

“Impact…!” The scent of blood and the man’s cry were enough to motivate Sabre to action, drawing his own emergency weapon! To accommodate his disability, he decided to modify the futuristic laser blade Impact left with him into a lance! “Haaaaaa…!” With a battlecry, he charged at where he perceived the enemy was – aiming just next to the spot where he smelled Impact and his blood.

With that satisfying buzz of beam weaponry against metal, the attack hit home! Letting out another screech – this time of pain, rather than anger, the dragon’s jaws released! Impact fell to the ground, landing on all fours before rising to his hunched bipedal stance. “Amazing work, Sabre! It seems that melee attacks are effect-AAAAAAAAAAH!”

A sound not unlike gatling gun fire exploded through the air around the two, as they were pushed back by a comparable force! Massive chunks of earth pelted their bodies, knocking them off their feet and sending them rolling along the ground like crash test dummies after a particularly violent experiment.

Heads still spinning from the tumble, Impact and Sabre forced themselves to get up and charge again! But unfortunately, the result was still the same: they couldn’t take even a few steps before another storm of earth hit them, feeling like they ran straight into the path of a speeding truck!

The sighted monster of the two noticed something strange: several oddly-shaped craters that certainly weren’t there before now dotted the land around the lake. “Craters around the lake…? Is the land itself being reshaped to attack us…?”

A cold feeling passed through Sabre’s body as his mind started to piece together what this dragon’s ability was… “This… this isn’t good. If that ability is what I think it is…” He could smell and hear a large amount of water around the area, too. Putting two and two together…

Confirming Sabre’s fear, one of the dragon heads stuck its head beneath the lake’s water, draining the massive reserve, while the other’s neck started to swiftly expand like a balloon inflating. This was enough to have Impact realise what was going on. “One head takes things in, and one head ejects them!?” The ability was a lot simpler than some enemies that he faced in the past… but it was still powerful enough to spell the two Blasters’ doom! After all, a weapon for killing didn’t need to be fancy, it just had to do the job.

Like an aquatic volcano eruption, a high pressure, high volume waterspout erupted from the dragon! The seconds following were almost tormentingly slow: the lake water blotted out the entire sky around them, hanging stationary in the air… then slowly… started to fall, coming down on them like judgement from heaven.

That volume of water, with that force behind it, would surely be enough to squash the two skeletons flat. Impact abruptly leaped on top of Sabre. The attempt to shield him using his body was likely futile, but better a small chance of one of them surviving than neither. Papyrus squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the end… but it didn’t come.

Rather than a crushing flood, and the crushing defeat that came with it, the two friends heard the pounding of paws on earth, a familiar sound of shifting bones, and the pulse of magical energy from a powerful blast. A wave of heat rushed through the area, causing Impact to look up in confusion.

The entirety of the water had been evaporated into steam! Standing heroically against that backdrop was the towering form of a massive skeletal dragon. Impact at first couldn’t even recognise it – this was a form he rarely saw the man in – but closer inspection was enough to make his face light up. Similarly, a huge grin formed on Sabre’s face at the familiar scent. “Red!”

A small smirk appeared on the dragon’s face, the corner of its muzzle tilting upward, before turning to the metal dragon. Its jaws parted again, letting loose with a second blast, this time towards the dragon!

But the hope that came with the Fell skeleton’s appearance was swiftly cut short. Moving so fast, the naked eye almost couldn’t follow, one of the heads rushed towards the laser and snapped it up. Impact and Red could see the movement of the laser’s glow through its body, almost like liquid through a plastic silly straw, before it emerged from the other end, right back at them!

“I’ll take this one! Red, Impact, get behind me!” To the skeletal dragon’s surprise, Sabre was already in front of him. Had the blind man already planned that far ahead and considered that possibility…? And how was he going to counter the laser?

With a smooth flick of the wrist, Sabre’s laser spear returned to a laser sword. Next, he held it in front of himself and started spinning it like a rotor fan! When the searing heat and force of the returned blast hit, Sabre grunted… almost growled with exertion. He dug his hind paws into the ground, raking up soil as he was slowly pushed back.

The beam sabre rotation trick did indeed shield him from the attack… but it only shielded a portion of Impact’s and Red’s bodies! And on top of that, his arm started to scream from the exertion of keeping the sword rotating at a constant rate! Longer… just had to keep it going for a little longer…! It felt like the blast was assaulting the trio for hours at this point! Did the metal dragon add to its energy somehow, or it simply his perception!?

For one instant… just a single instant, Sabre’s arm cramped, and the enemy’s attack penetrated his defence. “No…!” It was like a giant, flaming meteor collided with him, blowing Sabre and his two friends back. Most of the blast had been blocked, but the remainder of the force was enough to bring the heroes to their knees.

The two-headed metal dragon let out a metallic cackle as it loomed over the despairing, crouching heroes.

Impact, being fearful of all things draconic, felt like he was the one the most intimidated by this display. “Even a Blaster’s laser didn’t work against this thing…!? Is this the last enemy we’ll ever face…?” Panic ran through him, despair starting to wrap its icy grip around his heart. Would this all end here…?

However… Next to him, Sabre was even worse. Fear and panic were prime triggers for his transformation. A surge of energy ran through his bones, coursing through his whole body like electricity.

His clothes started to tighten at a slow yet steady rate, the buttons on his shirt popping off one-by-one. “Urgh… Ghh…” The dragon’s voice steadily began to deepen, taking on a guttural, animalistic rumble.

Despite pushing back against it with all his might, the pressure of the situation was warping his form into something monstrous – in the figurative sense, rather than literal.

Not satisfied with simply making him grow, Sabre’s magic started to warp his features. His fangs jutted out further, extending with a painful creak. Vicious spikes mercilessly ripped through the clothes Impact oh-so-carefully picked for him, completely ruining them as his body expanded. The hellish beast that was his feral side started to seep into his mind, venom dripping from his mouth as a demon began to enter the world through his body. Then…

<SNAP OUTTA IT!> THWACK!

A surprisingly high-pitched yelp escaped Sabre’s muzzle upon a bony object softly, yet firmly hitting his face. He had to pause, rapidly blinking before he could process what just happened. “Did you just… halt my transformation by hitting me? With your tail?”

The blind man could hear the proud grin in Red’s tone. <‘Course! It’s like those old computers and televisions – nothin’ a good whack can’t fix!>

“…I-”

BLAM BLAM BLAM!

“DODGE!” The other two complied with his command, evading the makeshift earth cannonballs alongside Sabre before the near-Blaster could continue. “I may not be experienced in that field, but… that… sounds wrong.”

Red simply chuckled.

Impact tilted his head, raising a brow. “Do you have a way in mind to defeat it?”

<O’ course! There’re three of us now! With our powers combined, we can make it through! You, of all people, should know this!>

The dinosaur-like Blaster blushed, embarrassed that he missed something so vital. “U-understood. What is your suggestion?”

Red’s expression became serious, as he beckoned for the two to get closer in an awkward (due to differing sizes and anatomies) group huddle. <Alrighty, ain’t much time to explain. We’ll……… Got it?>

“Got it!!”

<Good! LEEEEET’S DO IT!>

With that rousing cry, the Blaster trio charged! Unlike Impact’s and Sabre’s previous attempt, they split up and rushed the metallic dragon from different directions! It couldn’t hit them all at once!

Sabre galloped to where he felt one of the heads were. The distance is right…! Here goes! The voice acting stint earlier put him in the mood to announce his attack. “Target, Metal Dragon… Commencing with elimination!”

Leaping into the air, the hellish dragon fired a blast of his own – a bright green burst! It wasn’t as strong or flashy as the others, but it was far more economical on energy use. That, coupled with his current form, just barely gave him enough energy to use a continuous surge. Full output…! GOOOOOO!

The beam came right back out through the other head – to the place where Impact was, but he was prepared for it! Sabre had already demonstrated how to deal with this! “ROTATION BLAAAAADE!” Imitating Sabre’s technique, he spun his gunblade like a helicopter rotor!

With a normal sword, it would have just killed him. But because of the Blasters in his timeline, both his and Sabre’s weapons were designed as specific anti-Blaster measures! Impact’s gunblade wasn’t powerful enough to deflect it, but it was strong enough to block it!

Both of the metal heads were occupied, leaving the enemy dragon immobilised in terms of both offence and defence! With the lake drained from its previous attack, the main body – a big fat lump of rugged metal with the two spheres lodged inside – was open to attack!

Red dived at it, claws glinting in the sun as he prepared to deal the finishing blow. Hot blood coursing through his bones, he called out the name of this technique: <TRINITYYYY… FINISH!>

The metal beast was easily reduced to ribbons of scrap metal, the heads deactivating as the two central processing units were crushed. Just to make sure it was dead, Red unleashed the biggest blast he ever made on it, reducing it to ash. The deed done; the beast let loose with a howl of triumph. Not because he had lost to his base instincts, but for the cool factor.

Once he ensured it was safe to approach the dragon, Impact rushed up to him, tail wagging and eyes sparkling. “That was amazing…! You performed excellently!”

<We performed excellently. Don’t sell yourself or Sabre short.> The dragon turned his gaze from Impact to his fellow beast, a cheeky expression on his face. <Now… how ‘bout that nice lunch you wanted to treat Impact to?>

Sabre went green – the colour of his blush being due to his magic, a wildly unfitting appearance on his now frightening visage. “O-oh… as a voice actor, I don’t get paid much, but… I’ll see what I can do for three people.”

With a series of uncomfortable-sounding cracks akin to a crackling fireplace, he reverted to his normal half-Blaster shape. As he shrank down to his usual size, he couldn’t help but shiver against the cool breeze on his naked bones. “A-after the cost of new clothes, as well… Impact, can you get my wallet?”

“Of course!” After a few seconds of searching, Impact found Sabre’s wallet amongst his clothing tatters. The raptor briefly considered throwing it to him, before remembering a blind man wouldn’t quite appreciate the gesture. Instead, he passed it into his hand, and additionally wrapped his coat around the skeleton as an interim measure.

“Thank you. Now, where to eat…”

***

McDaniel’s

Sabre rubbed the back of his neck anxiously, sweating slightly. “…As I said earlier, I did tell you that I didn’t get paid much…”

Impact quickly dispelled any doubts, as he dug into the burger from his Joy Meal™ with warmth in his tone. “No, this is fine! This is more than enough!”

The now humanoid Red nodded his head in agreement. “Just bein’ able t’ spend time together here is fun.” Chuckling slightly, he lifted up a small figurine. “Plus, I’ve been lookin’ for this one for ages!”

Neither of them felt even the slightest urge to complain – after all, it wasn’t about the food itself. Sharing a meal and company with true companions, who would always be there to support each other… that made it taste better than even an emperor’s feast.

[goldeneyedgirl]

Fic-Mas Day 2: In Another Life

Oh my gosh! Thank you so much for the lovely response :D I’ve got bad allergies tonight and I’m babysitting a puppy post-surgery, so no long message, just onwards with Day 2.

Day 2. In Another Life

(This was/is a part of an anthology fic called ‘The Only Girl in the World’, and was basically just a lot of different ways Jasper and Alice could have met, and how fate helped or hindered them. I also want to make it completely clear that Alice is a human child in this fic, and there are no romantic or sexual undertones, implications, or subtext.)

The new neighbours have finally arrived.

The Brandons live outside of town, and it has been forever since the Hawkins’ left. Not that anyone was surprised - there are enough ghost stories and rumours to keep that house empty forever.

There’s a line of pine trees that seperate the Brandon house from the old Hawkins’ place. Other than the orchard, the rest of the land belongs to the new neighbours now.

“Where are you going, Mary?” her mother is in the kitchen, consulting a cook-book. Caroline Brandon is the consummate housewife - consistent, resourceful, and bored out of her mind raising two daughters outside of a small town. Neither Caroline nor Michael Brandon have told the girls that they’ll be getting a brother very, very soon - even though nine-year-old Mary and seven-year-old Cynthia have already taken note of their mother’s bulging stomach.

“To see the neighbours!” the cry summons little Cynthia, and both girls start their charge towards the Hawkins’ place. They are almost mirror images of each other - sturdy Cynthia, and bird-boned Mary; Cynthia’s blonde curls fall effortlessly to her waist, and Mary’s stick-straight black hair hangs around her shoulders. Cynthia wears a pink-striped dress and matching shoes; Mary wears ancient fairy-wings over a rainbow leotard and a long skirt, her feet bare.

Through their mother’s flower garden, and around the vegetable patch; over the low stone fence and through the orchard to no man’s land. They climb up the old viewing platform - their father says that it used to belong to hunters, and they need to stay off the rotten old thing, but they have no other play structure, and the temptation is just too much.

“Are they there? Are there kids?” Cynthia asks, bouncing.

“They’re there. I think they’re all grown ups,” Mary squints through the plastic binoculars they have stashed up there, in an ancient lunchbox. “Come one!” They are both nimble little girls, and have climbed up and down the platform hundreds of times; each foot hits the bolts they use as steps with certainty and speed, and then they are off, through the long grass, to see the mysterious new neighbours.

Crossing over the border, it is like another world. Everyone knows the story of the Hawkins’ mansion: a man built it for his wife, and their children kept dying. They said the youngest child, Arabella Hawkins, was mad and roamed the house at night. All Mary knew was that Mrs Hawkins had been taken away in an ambulance, and that Mr Hawkins was found asleep in his car one morning, and the police had to be called.

But the house was exquisite, under years of neglect. The fountain and gardens, ready to be loved again. The Victorian mansion of at least three floors. Mary Alice couldn’t imagine how nice it was inside.

She could see the new people unloading the truck, and hurried across the gravel to see them closely.

“Hi,” she blurted out, standing barefoot on the gravel, at the adults suddenly staring at her. “I’m Mary, we live next door. She turned around to see Cynthia lingering shyly behind her. “That’s my sister Cynthia.”

They are staring at her, as if she is quite strange. There is a lady there, wearing a pretty sweater, who smiles so nicely at her.

“Hello Mary, hello Cynthia,” she says. “I’m Esme Hale. This is my family.”

Mrs Hale is sweet, and asks them a lot of questions as the rest of the family unpacks; Cynthia takes a shine to the lady, and jabbers away about the new baby, about Halloween and Thanksgiving, and that they want a puppy for Christmas.

Mrs Hale appears equally as enchanted by Cynthia - that’s not strange, most adults love her little blonde sister. She watches boxes and covered furniture been carried into the house, and the gravel bites harder into her cold, bare feet. It’s just an ordinary moment, ultimately forgettable. Except it isn’t. And she’s still too little to understand the intricacies of everything that has happened, has been seen and said and felt.

They leave soon after, with Mrs Hale promising them cookies next time they come over; Cynthia is delighted, but she has a terrible sweet tooth. With a wave and a smile, both girls dart back towards the tree line. Mary doesn’t know why she looks back, but she does, and see a man and woman staring at her from the garage, and frowns.

That night, she dreams of the blond man coming to their house - its nighttime, and Thanksgiving, because she’s wearing a stupid dress with fall leaves and turkeys on it. She knows the new baby is there, and everyone is in the dining room laughing and talking. He smiles down at her, and whispers something to her.

And she takes his hand. Then she’s in a car; her backpack is at her feet, and her plush rabbit is in her lap. She’s wearing her best winter coat, and she’s not at all afraid. She’s warm and sleepy. When they stop, he buys her waffles and hot chocolate, and he looks at her so sadly. She’s happy though. Well, until he takes her to a public bathroom and cuts her hair off. But it’s only hair, and she doesn’t blame him.

They find his family at another house; this house is wooden, like a ski lodge, and he seems surprised to see them there. They yell a lot, and she hides in a bedroom upstairs.

That’s when Mrs Hale comes to her side, and shows her the news. She sees her mother screaming and crying, she sees a lot of police. Her photograph on the news. Her ugly Thanksgiving dress fished out of a dumpster at the gas station.

The Hales talk about returning her, and how she’ll keep their secret. Mrs Hale puts her to bed, and kisses her cheek and promises her it will all be okay.

She doesn’t even stir when he lifts her from her bed and leaves with her again. She wakes up again, and they are in a truck, driving fast. He just keeps saying he’s sorry.

She doesn’t care. She likes him. He is so peaceful and safe to her eyes. And during their travels, he is kind. He buys her food and makes sure she is warm and clean. Few people give them a second look, but the few that do, she dismisses. “My name isn’t Mary. It’s Alice, and he’s my brother.” He buys her fake purple glasses, a sketchbook, and a new coat for Christmas. They sit on the front of the car, and she eats pizza out of a box and look out at the festive lights on Christmas Eve. He takes her to a church, and she says a prayer, and then they leave again.

He is taking her to Alaska, he tells her. She’ll be safe there. She doesn’t know what he’s protecting her from, but she trusts him. She doesn’t tell him she feels sick, that she’s hot and cold all the time, and it doesn’t matter. She shouldn’t be sick, she knows that. Some part of her knows this is how everything is going to be fixed; that someone has made a terrible mistake (not him), and this is how they try to put it right.

She dies in his arms on the side of the road on New Year’s Eve. Her mouth tastes like blood and everything is floating. It hurts to breathe. His red eyes stare down, desperately at hers, and she wants to reassure her that she understands everything. Not in a way that can be put into words, but she does. That she is nearly ten years old, but she feels much older and would never ever have told anyone. That this life is all wrong, and that’s why she has to go to heaven.

His family won’t be mad for long, they’ll welcome him back. They’ll never, ever ask him about what happened to her - even when they find out he has kept her stuffed rabbit.

She wants to tell him all of this, but she can’t, so she closes her eyes and snuggles closer to him, and fades away from the world.

When she wakes up the next morning, she knows her fate. She knows which clothes to pack into her backpack and to tie a ribbon from her bunny to her bag, so that when he climbs in her window, he won’t forget Bunny. She leaves her back right next to the window.

Binoculars. She needs her binoculars.

Her rubber boots pinch a little, and if her mother finds out that she’s running around in her pyjamas, she’ll catch it. But she treks across the snow to the old hunting structure, and climbs up.

It’s just happenstance, bad luck, and maybe a reprieve for a haunted man. The crack sounds like the branch from a tree going, and suddenly she can’t catch her balance and then there is falling and pain and stillness as the rotting wood finally gives out. The only metal pole that was holding the wood in place pierces her chest and makes her feel hot and cold at the same time. One of her boots has come off or torn or something. She’s all ice and wet from the snow. She can’t breathe or cry or scream or talk.

It will be hours before she is found, nestled in the wreckage, with a starburst of blood around her. There will be yelling and screaming, and emergency services everywhere, and her photograph will end up in the newspaper. There will be some speculation whether she died from her injuries, or froze to death. But it doesn’t matter - accidental death is accidental death, however you frame it. Her mother will never understand the clothing in the backpack, or the ribbon tied to her favourite toy. Her father will throw away her fairy wings and broken binoculars. And Jasper Hale will never kidnap the little girl that made him feel hope, and run away without a plan.

She lies in the snow, and she is frustrated and sad. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to be a little girl when she met him; he wasn’t supposed to be so desperate.

She wasn’t supposed to die alone.

But she does anyway.

[thots4daze]

My Boy - Oikawa Tooru x Reader

Hey hey heyyyyyy y’all~! guess what i started and finished tonight?! that’s right, a one shot

BOOM go me~! i did have inspiration and help from @summon-the-stars and @supern-a-vengers

aside from language - cause i use the word FUCK a lot, this is your only warning for that . . . also also i listened to billie eilish “my boy” on repeat for the ENTIRETY of writing this . . . which was like, a total of 2+ hours eeeep

soooo, enjoy y’all!

MY BOY - OIKAWA TOORU x fem!READER 

its almost gender neutral, but i think i fucked up and wrote “she/her” in some places sooooo, imma be safe and say fem! reader 

It was no secret that Oikawa Tooru, THE Oikawa Tooru, the King of the court and volleyball all-star, Oikawa Tooru, who was the bane of every guy’s existence and every girl’s wet dream; was a serial dater. If that was even a thing.

He probably went through girls faster than he does hair product. Though that didn’t seem to stop girls from throwing themselves at his feet, wishing, hoping, wanting . . . begging, to be his next victim. You were the exception. If exceptions still craved for attention from said serial dater. The only difference was, you knew better! Or at least you liked to think so.

Other members of the same sex, hell, even those of the opposite, would shoot you nasty glances anytime the king would waltz through the halls, or classes, or the court. And while everyone else around you were hurling their bodies down before him, you stood erect and just . . . watched on. With what you hoped was an indifferent stare. 

No matter what was going on, Oikawa Tooru attempted to gain your attention, if even for a short while. To have everyone else around him be so smitten and caught up in his presence definitely did a number to his ego. Iwaizumi has always made sure he was aware. And he was. He was no idiot. Not by a long shot. Though the majority of the time he couldn’t stand all the attention on him for his looks alone, he still craved to have it. And from everyone. And that meant you too. And since he wasn’t gaining it, it really burst his bubble.

So, when the Seijoh Squad was having a small gathering, there at their usual lunch table, and Makki and Mattsun brought up the ideas of completing dares for the month, Oikawa snapped his head up from his hands and looked at the meme duo with intrigue.

My boy's being sus

“Go on~” he practically purred. The others just glanced at one another before smirks of their own crawled onto their faces. And if he wasn’t so interested, he might have been a little apprehensive of the whole situation.

“We have to ask out someone, of the other’s choosing of course. And date until the end of the month. The one who can last the longest wins.”

“What do I win?”

“Who says you’re gonna win?” Makki quested pointedly at his captain.

“Psht, please. Have you seen me?” Iwaizumi just shoved his hand in his best friends face and pushed, “You can’t keep a relationship together for longer than a week, let alone a month.”

“Wahhh, Iwa-chan, so brutish. You’ll never keep a girl like that~”

“Having a relationship doesn’t sound all that difficult,” Mattsun voiced out loud, ignoring the other two completely. The others thought about it and agreed.

“Obviously, we’d have to make it public - dates, with pictures. And the occasional hand holding and kissing - that would have to be a must . . .” Makki continued to ramble on under his breath, but just loud enough for the others to hear and agree.

Oikawa was busy staring at you from across the lunch hall, chatting it up with your friends. You were quite popular among the students of Aoba Johsai. Straight marks on everything, leading position in your club. You were cute to boot. Even Oikawa could admit to that. So, when he let out a sigh, his next words trailed after without a second thought, “What about a trophy.” It was more a statement than a question.

The boys around him raised their brows in silent questioning. Snapping out of his daze, but only a fraction, Oiukawa continued, “Ya know, a trophy. Of a conquest.” When the others still didn’t speak up he rolled his eyes, “Undergarments?”

“Ohhhh.” It hit them like a truck. A deep blush crossing each of their features. And then it was settled. Of course, the “trophies” idea was thrown out immediately by Iwa, who announced that if it were to become a thing, he was going to personally kill each and every one of them. No more talk of “trophies” was ever spoken again.

The boys knew of your denial of Oikawa in the past and felt that you were the perfect target for this lil dare. One, you wouldn’t easily fall for his shit and two, that because of that he would be out first. It was a win-win in their eyes. So, at the end of the day, when Oikawa walked into your club room; sauntering the way he does, you didn’t think twice.

“Here for another victim, Oikawa?” You mused, looking up at him through long lashes. Cheeks a little flushed, hair disheveled, and your uniform top rumpled up. There was a heat wave passing through this season and it was killer - especially in the afternoons when you had club meetings in the older buildings on the outskirts of the campus where the AC was constantly on the fritz.

His tongue darted out to lick the seam of his velvet lips. The heat slowly getting to him as he took in your features. You were so much prettier in close proximity. However, your little jab at him brought him back down to earth and with a well placed smile, that everyone took for genuine, he replied, “Why, Y/N, you wound me~ I was just swinging by to see if you would like to walk home after clubs over?”

You were at a loss for words and only managed to glare at him slightly, still being wary of his intentions. But nodded anyways. You weren’t going to flat out deny a chance to spend time with the handsome captain. Are you crazy?

“Great!” He beamed, “Just swing by the gym when you’re done here and we can head out. Later, Y/N-chan~” with a blown kiss, he was out the door and around the corner outta view. The rest of the club that was there were just staring between the door way and you standing there like an idiot. Some of the members even went to work texting out to everyone the situation that just took place. Oikawa Tooru was showing interest in you. And you didn’t shoot him down. The world was coming to an end.

He walked you home, like he promised, stopping at the corner store on the way and purchasing some cold drinks for you to enjoy in the simmering heat. Granted, the sun had set by now, but the heat lingered and it was sticky. Conversations ebbed and flowed easily enough and you soon find yourself melting into his charm and charisma. He was cute and funny and smart. Who would have known? The evening ended with him walking you all the way to your door, before planting a sweet, chaste kiss to your lips and then waving goodnight with that same smile from earlier. And from that moment, you knew you were gone.

--- X ---

Over the past month, your relationship with Tooru grew. Yes, relationship. Yes, Tooru. It was strange, you couldn't get over the thought that this was happening. You were happy, he was happy and you enjoyed every minute of it.

 He was shady enough

At the beginning you were skeptical, especially when he asked you out, in front of everyone. You tentatively accepted but at the back of your mind you knew that it was only going to be for a day or two - so you didn’t do anything different than your normal routine. And so when Tooru would come around to try to be a loving boyfriend, it threw you for a loop. Once one day turned to one week and then to two - you had found yourself sliding into the relationship easier than you would have thought. 

You enjoyed it. You enjoyed him. Cute lil cafe dates - which weren’t really your scene before - somehow became something you looked forward to with him. Pictures taken together were always a must. And of course he always wanted to make sure that you both looked the most perfect you could. When you went to post the picture, he stopped you with a firm grip to your wrist, “Tooru?” You looked at him with a questioning expression.

But now he's just a shadow

“Oh, sorry, Y/N-chan~ I just don’t want my fan club to see and then flock here. Then our lovely date would have to be rushed and over waaaay too quickly.” He let go of your wrist once his plight was heard. Slowly you nodded, that made sense. So, you complied and continued on with your date. A nagging feeling presenting itself in the back of your mind.

My boy loves his friends like I love my split ends

Since the start of the relationship, you noticed that him and his friends didn’t spend too much time together - outside of practise, that is. Which struck you as odd. Thinking back on it, and looking around the lunch hall, you spotted the boys with their new relationships. It was uncanny for all of them to be in relationships at the same time. Normally it was just Oikawa, and then the occasional thought that would float around that Makki and Mattsun were a thing - but obviously not, with the way Mattsun has his tongue down some girl’s throat.

And by that I mean

But since this whole . . . thing started, he hasn’t spent any time away from you. Other than when it’s called for [i.e. home, bathroom breaks, classes etc.] and while you’re appreciative of all the attention you’re receiving from your boyfriend, something seems off.

He cuts em off

The nagging thoughts that he was just going to go through you like all the others before you flashed through your mind and didn’t seem to want to leave as you sat there on your bed. Homework was strewn across the comforter of your bed. Trying to focus on anything other than the negative thoughts of Oikawa Tooru was futile at this point. Music flowed softly from your laptop speakers on your desk to the left of you, but you were too caught up in the confusion to pay any mind to the song, let alone the lyrics. Just that it was smooth.

My boy, my boy, my boy Don't love me like he promised My boy, my boy, my boy He ain't a man and sure as hell ain't honest

Eventually, you push the thoughts to the back of your mind to deal with another time. Final exams were coming up and it wouldn’t do you any good to worry about something that’s obviously not an issue. So, after gathering up all your materials and placing them on your desk, you turn to the laptop making sure to close the music player, noticing the song as you do so. “Hmm, ‘my boy’.”

Sooner rather than later, having slipped into the sheets, sleep takes you and you dream of Tooru. The serial dater.

My boy's being sus and he don't know how to cuss

The next morning, he wasn’t there to walk you to school like he had for the past couple of weeks. You thought it was odd, but didn’t dwell too long. Spring prelims were upon you and you must have not heard him when he said extra practices. Right? Yeah, that must be it.

Making your way to school, you were early enough to stop by the corner store and grab some milk bread for Tooru. He’d be so excited that you got it for him and for breakfast no less. You couldn’t help but let the giggle that was bubbling inside out. You could just picture it now. And it was cute.

It didn’t take much longer after purchasing the food that you were on school grounds and letting your feet take you directly to the gym where you could hear the echoing of volleyballs and the screeching of sneakers on freshly polished wood planks as the team was running drills. It warmed your heart to know that your team was kicking ass and taking names - working their asses off to compete and be at the top.

“Maybe I should make some snacks next time and bring ‘em for the whole team?” Your musings were for nobody but yourself as you walked through the open gym doors. Everyone was busy and so no one took any notice of you entering. Which was fine by you. No need to interrupt their practice just to give Tooru some food.

Looking around you noticed that the other third year’s significant others were nowhere to be found and something in you vibrated. Like the kind of unsettling vibrations where when your standing on a ladder and someone comes around and shakes the base.

Scanning the gym your eyes lock onto their target of fluffy chestnut hair. Regardless of the sweat he’s probably covered in, his hair manages to stay put. For the most part at least. He’s standing off to the side with other third years, rubbing their faces with towels and taking swigs from their water bottles - just taking a small break.

The feeling in the pit of your stomach eases a tad bit as you begin making your way to him. ‘Maybe just to say hey, good morning and a kiss? Yeah, that wouldn’t be too distracting.’ With a steely resolve you continued on your way, making a beeline to get to him and the others. His back was to you and the others didn’t seem to notice your presence at first, so when you heard them talking, you decided to listen in. Curiosity and all.

He just sounds like he's tryna be his father (who are you?)

“Alright boys~” Oikawa cooed like the cat that got the cream. They all groaned in unison as if this wasn’t going to happen. “Fess up, I won.” He stood their victoriously, hands on his hips, a towel draped over his left shoulder. 

Iwa rubbed his hands over his warmed and tinted face, practice had already been brutal for the wing spiker and it was only going to get worse knowing that he, they, were going to have to admit that their captain was a winner. And he, and the others, were not thrilled with this.

So, he opted for what he normally does in these annoying Oikawa situations. He brought his fist down on the top of his head, “Shut it, Trashykawa!” Makki and Mattsun couldn’t stifle their grins, let alone their laughs.

My boy's an ugly crier 

“WAAHHHHH~! Iwa-chan! You’re so meeeeeeeean! That’s why you lost the dare! Your little cutie of an arm piece couldn’t stand your brutish ways!” Which earned him another fist to the head, and more tears to flow from his beautiful eyes. Eyes that you were now privileged to see since arriving that morning.

“Dare?”

“Uh, oh. . .” the meme duo, did everything in unison and at this moment, that didn’t change.

“Arm piece?” Every word outta your mouth just brought more and more confusion to your already fried brain. You couldn’t think properly.

But that all changed as soon as Oikawa made a move to get to you. As soon as he reached out to grab your arm, to try and touch you, to make you understand, to listen to him, it all clicked. All of it. Every little moment with you was a farce. A joke. You were a joke to him and his friends.

“Y/N, please listen.” No -chan. There wasn’t a shred of adoration nor affection in his voice like there had been just 12 hours prior to this conversation. Well, less of a conversation and more of him trying to talk to someone who has astral projected themselves outta this situation.

but he's such a pretty liar

“It’s not what you think.”

Liar.

“It wasn’t a dare, not at all . . .” he was struggling to find the right words to bring this conversation to a close as quickly and painlessly as possible. At least on his part. Liar.

“Yeah, it was more of a bet,” Makki interjected. Even though you were hurting, he was going to get his kicks in at his captain. It just happened to be at your expense.

“Makki!” Iwaizumi jumped at his friend, trying to get him to read the fucking room. 

“A bet? A fucking bet?” At the sound of your low tone rising, Oikawa had to flinch at the noise. This was not going to be pleasant.

“What? You bet that you could woo me and get in my pants? Or, or maybe that you could wrap me around your finger and then humiliate me in front of the school when you broke it off? Get me to make a scene and have me kicked from my position in club?”

“No, nothing like that. . . not exactly.”

“Then what?! What was the fucking purpose!” You were livid. Causing the very scene you accused him of making you commit and if you weren’t so pissed, you would have berated yourself for playing right into it.

At this point the other teammates had halted their practice. Coach had gone off to his office, you supposed, since he wasn’t shouting at everyone to continue and you to leave. But you honestly couldn't be bothered. There wasn't anything he could do or say - that anyone could - that would get you to calm down and leave without getting answers.

“I thought you broke it off with her yesterday?” Mattsun mused from behind them all. His towering frame above the lot of you. His eyes betraying nothing. He wasn’t asking or musing out loud to be rude, it was just who he was. But it still pissed you off.

Oikawa turned slightly away from you to be in view of everyone, “Well, I just never got around to it you know?” He finished with a small, small chuckle. Fixing you with a look that spoke to a different side of Oikawa Tooru.

“Ever the fucking showman.” With that you turned on your heel and walked out of the gym, shoulders back and squared, head high and a trembling lip.

And by that I mean he said he'd "change"

You kept going, only stopping when you got to the club room, no one there that early to bother you. Sinking to the floor, back pressed to the closed door, memories swim through your head as you thought back on the past month. All you time spent with him. How he promised, at the beginning, this was going to be different than his other relationships. You had to laugh out loud at that statement now. He wasn’t wrong.

A few stray tears left your eyes as you sniffed, rubbing them dry and pushing up off the ground. Today was going to be a shitty day.

And as if you were blessed with the clairvoyant gift of foresight, you called it. The whole rest of the day was nothing but whispers among your classmates about how Oikawa had dumped you at practice this morning. And those that didn't know about the breakup - how could you not? - put two and two together when they saw Oikawa flirting it up with the second year cheer captain.

The face you wore betrayed nothing to the masses. They speculated all they wanted, however, it was so far from the truth that you didn’t feel the need to correct them.

My boy, my boy, my boy Don't love me like he promised My boy, my boy, my boy He ain't a man and sure as hell ain't honest

So, the rest of the year came and went without a hitch. With it the changing seasons and graduation ceremonies were taking place across the Sendai region. Once that paper was placed in your well manicured hands you were elated.

--- X ---

University started and orientation came and went in the blink of an eye. You adjusted to the life easily. There were hardly any familiar faces from high school there with you. You were able to start anew - without the curse of Oikawa following you.

Well, you had hoped.

Oikawa Tooru stood there in the doorway of your first class of the day, of the year. He looked around the room, “Probably scoping out his next prey,” you muttered to the girl next to you, a friend that lived in the same dorm as you, a door down. She giggled and stared at the volleyball player. Cause that had to be how he got here. Scholarship.

You shake your head no, you knew that wasn’t true. Tooru was a smart guy. Shifty and shady as fuck, but smart. His eyes land on your friend, who blushes like mad. You don’t blame her, you were once in her position. But you had warned her before hand, regaling in tales of old. Though, those seem to have fallen on deaf ears as you look between her and your, ahem, “ex”. Could you even call him that if he didn’t consider it a real relationship?

Internally shrugging you notice that he’s standing directly to your right, you curse yourself for choosing the aisle seat. He’s ignoring you completely; either out of habit or because he truly doesn’t recognize you, you don’t know and you don’t give a flying fuck either.

“Hello, hello, megane-chan~ mind if I sit next to you lovely ladies -” his litany voice caught in his throat as his sight snapped to your bored face. He may have only been catching your side profile, damn you for looking up at the front of the room, but he was 100000% sure that it was you.

“Y/N, I didn't know you were attending studies here~” he tried to throw on that charm. It might have worked, once upon a time. Not anymore. ‘Sorry, Tooru,’ you thought making it a point to continue your watchful bored gaze to the front, waiting on the professor to begin.

“Y/N?” He whined in that oh so Tooru fashion that just rubbed you in all the ways that matter. Wrong.

You want me to be yours well then you gotta be mine

Sighing you turn your gaze to him and his breath catches. You had only grown more beautiful since that last encounter. Minimal makeup, hair thrown into a messy bun, loose shirt with workout leggings? You were just trying to do things to him. Whether you knew it or not, you were.

He had to internally bite his lip to keep from blurting out something so embarrassing and uncool.

“What is it, Shittykawa?” Like a knife through his heart. He rebounds quickly, “Iwa-chan was such a terrible influence on you,” he makes a motion for you to scoot over so he can join you in the bench like stadium seating, but you make no such move. Just continuing to stare at him, waiting for him to get to his purpose.

When he continued to just stand there, expectant, you sighed loudly again. Blowing a strand of loose hair from your face, you gathered your belongings and stood in one fluid motion. It took Oikawa by surprise with the amount of grace you held in your movements. He wondered if you were as swift in other areas.

Shaking his head, physically, he snapped himself to be present to watch your movements. You stood there before him, books in hand, back slung over your shoulder - now exposed via over-sized shirt - and he audibly gulped. And you definitely caught it.

And if you want a good girl, then goodbye

Eyes narrowing at your ex, they didn’t hold any malicious intent. Not in the way he would have thought, at least. Shifting your weight to one foot, while hoisting your materials in your single grip, you made a move to squeeze past the petrified male.

His caramel eyes watched your every move, trying to figure out your next play. Always trying to stay ahead of everyone, by at least one move. And you were no exception. And when you invaded his personal space he was attentive. Hawk like. What were you up to?

You want me to be yours well then you gotta be mine and

It was almost too easy. You could read him like a children’s book. With pictures and everything. Having grown up with him these last 4 years has made you incredibly aware of him and his ticks. His mannerisms. How he thinks. Or, so you like to think. Based off the entire incident that sent you two into this . . . turmoil, some would think otherwise.

Regardless, shaking off those negative thoughts, you go back to the original plan. Move your seat away from him, but stay in his line of sight. Make him regret treating you like a game. Like a joke. 

But when you saw his gaze on you, trying to burn holes into your skin, you felt a heat dance across your skin that you weren’t too upset over. You couldn’t break! Not now! And not to . . him.

Steeling your nerves, and slinking past your ex, you lean into him. Ghosting your lips over his own. Those velvety lips you used to bite and kiss and lick, just months ago. His breathing hitched, you heard and the smirk that threatened to spill past you was too great. So, moving your lips to the outer shell of his ear, covered slightly by his slightly longer locks, you licked your lips ever so slightly.

Warm breath hitting your neck as he released what he was holding. His hands reaching out, trembling, to get a chance to touch you. To remember what you felt like under his fingers. To feel that bare skin that was taunting him. It looked so soft, so supple.

However, before he could come in contact with you, he froze in his spot for two reasons, the voice with which you spoke was one of soft, teasing tenancies and the motion of you brushing and cupping his growing bulge - only somewhat obscured by the long hoodie he was wearing.

And then of course the words you spoke, in that breathy, soft, teasing tone of yours that was new to him, but he was damn sure he was going to get to know, 

“if you want a good girl, then goodbye . . .”