#I was sick from pneumonia for a couple of months

[btsficsandsuch]

Hey ,hope you are doing okay. I wanted to request a taehyung × reader where she gets hurt or something when he was on tour but she tries to hide it from her but he finds out eventually. angsty with happy ending

Here you go. I hope you like it!!

I’m Alway Worried About You

This is not how you planned your Tuesday night going. Thankfully the emergency room wasn’t too packed and they were able to get you seen pretty quickly. “Okay Y/N. It seems you have a bad case of pneumonia. Everything will be okay and you’ll make a full recovery but we do want to keep you for the next 24 hours to give you some breathing treatments and make sure it doesn’t get any worse.”, the doctor advises you. You simply nod your head in agreement and watch as we walks out the door.

“You should really call Taehyung and let him know what’s going on.”, your best friend speaks up. “No I can’t do that. He’s on tour and he’ll freak out. He’ll be on the next plane back.”, you say shanking your head. She laughs, “And that would be a bad thing why? It’s obvious he loves you.” “I know he does but he’s already given up so much for me. I don’t want him to get in trouble. Plus the doctor said I’ll be fine so there’s no reason he ever has to find out about this.”, you reply. After convincing your friend that you’d be okay and didn’t need her to spend the night you said goodbye and settled in for the night.

The following morning you woke up extremely tired and with a massive headache. When the doctor told you that you’d be getting breathing treatments you didn’t think he meant every hour. You just finished yet another treatment when your phone started vibrating on the table next to you. Checking the screen you saw Taehyungs name flashing. You’d already ignored two of his calls so you knew if you did it a third time he’d have someone looking for you so you had no choice but to answer.

“Hello”

“There you are Y/N! I was getting worried.”

“I’m sorry Tae. I was in the shower.”

“It’s okay. How are you? I miss you so much!”

“Aww babe I miss you too! How much longer until you get back?”

“Umm like two weeks.”

“Oh that’s not too ba-“

You’re cut off before you can finish. “Here you go Miss. These are your discharge papers. The dr will be in shortly to give your lungs one final listen.”, the nurse says before turning and walking away. You’re glad they weren’t currently checking your blood pressure because the machine definitely would’ve blown up. You were praying Taehyung didn’t hear that but before you even continue he asks,

“Discharge papers and doctor? Y/N are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine Tae. It was in the drama I’m watching on tv. The female lead was in the hospital.”, you said hoping he buys the lie.

“Alright. Well I have to get going. I’ll talk to you later. I love you Y/N.”

“I love you too Tae. Be safe! Tell the boys I say hi.”

After the call ended you let out a long sigh thankful that he didn’t ask any more questions. The doctor came in shortly after and checked your breathing. He said you still sounded a little sick but much better than yesterday. He gave you a prescription for an inhaler to use if you felt like your breathing was getting worse and signed off on your discharge. Your best friend was waiting in the lobby to take you home.

The next couple weeks went by fast. Every day you felt a little stronger and you only had to use the inhaler twice. Today was an exciting day because Taehyung was finally coming home after being gone for the last couple months. As soon as he walked in the door you ran and jumped into his arms, “I missed you so much Tae.” He spun you around the living room before giving you a kiss, “I missed you too Y/N.”

After spending some time catching up you both realize that you’re starving and decide to check out a new restaurant that just opened up. The meal was great. Taehyung told you all about the tour. He showed you all of the pictures and videos he took. You couldn’t stop the smile that was on your face. As the two of you made your way back home you held his hand close, just happy that he was finally there. You both walked from the car over to the elevator ready to get upstairs and cuddle and watch the newest drama everyone keeps talking about. You went to press the button on the elevator when you noticed a big yellow sign taped to the doors ‘Out Of Service. Please Take the Stairs. Sorry For The Inconvenience’.

Taehyung scoffs next to you, “For how much we pay to live here you’d think they could keep everything in working order.” You nod in agreement but have no choice but to take the stairs. Luckily your apartment is only on the fifth floor but it’s still quite a few stairs to take. With each staircase it gets harder and harder to breathe. Taehyung notices, “Are you okay Y/? We can take a break.” You shake your head, “No this is just a reminder that I have to start working out more.” The two of you continue up and finally reach your floor. You never thought you’d be so happy to see the tacky green carpet of the hallway leading to your apartment.

Now it seems that with each step your lungs are getting weaker and weaker. Sure you’re not the most physically fit person but you’ve never been this exhausted before. Then you remembered how the doctor told you that your lungs could be weaker for the next couple months as they fully recover from the pneumonia and that’s why he gave you the inhaler. You had stuffed the inhaler in the back of your nightstand drawer thinking you’d never need it again and wanted to make sure Taehyung never found it.

“Y/N are you sure you’re okay? You don’t look that good.”, he says pushing open the door to your apartment. You try to respond but realize you don’t have enough breath in your lungs to speak. You start to panic and begin pointing at your chest. “What’s wrong? Do I need to call for an ambulance? Y/N, try to breathe.”, he says clearly upset. Still unable to speak you start briskly walking back to your bedroom, Taehyung following close behind. Once you get to your nightstand you start pulling out item after item throwing them on the floor until you get to what you’re looking for. The navy blue inhaler. Quickly you follow the directions and push down inhaling the medicine and holding your breath. You Wait 10 seconds and do it again. After another 10 seconds you take one more inhale. Closing your eyes you sit on the bed and wait for the medicine to take effect.

Thankfully it only takes a couple minutes for the medicine to start working and slowly you can feel your lungs taking in more air. When you finally open your eyes you search for Taehyung and see him standing in front of you with wide eyes. “Y/N, what’s going on? We’ve been together for five years and you never told me you had asthma and I’ve never seen you use an inhaler.”, he asks with hints of fear and anger in his voice.

Taking another deep breath you grab his hand and pull him next to you. You decide it’s best to come clean. “I don’t have asthma. A few weeks ago I was admitted to the hospital with pneumonia. They gave me this inhaler but I didn’t think I’d need it so I didn’t bring it and I’ve been feeling much better but I think taking all of those stairs overworked my lungs. I’m sorry if I scared you.”, you said unable to look at him. “Of course you scared me Y/N. I thought you were dying. Why didn’t you tell me you were in the hospital? That’s not fair to keep something like that from me.”, he said trying but failing to hide the anger in his voice. “I’m sorry Tae. The doctor said I was going to be fine. If it was something serious I would’ve called you. I just didn’t want you to worry about me.”, you said squeezing his hand.

Taehyung lifted your chin so you were looking at him, “Y/N, I’m always worried about you when I’m not with you. I worry if you’re safe, if you’re healthy, if you’re happy, if you’re eating and sleeping well. Just like you’re always worried about me. If something happens and I’m not here I need to know about it. Even if it’s a paper cut you got while opening the mail. Even if I’m on the other side of the world. Promise me if something ever happens again you will call me, no matter what.” You nod and kiss his cheek, “I promise. I’m sorry.”

He gives you a big boxy smile, “Good. Now let’s clean up and then meet me on the couch. We’ve got a whole drama to binge watch in one night so we better get started.” You laugh and begin placing things back in the drawer except for the blue inhaler you can’t seem to find anywhere. Panic sets in until you see Taehyung in the living room holding the inhaler and talking on the phone. You bite your lip trying to hide the smile that forms as you hear him say, “Yes the prescription is for Mrs.Y/N Kim. I was wondering what would be needed to be able to get enough of these inhalers to put one in every room of the house and to have one on me at all times.” You laugh at his concern. You know they’d never give you enough to do that but for the time being you’ll let him have this moment and you feel your heart swell at how much he loves and cares about you.

#bts fanfic #bts #bts x reader #taehyung fluff #taehyung x reader #taehyung #taehyun x reader #taehyung fanfic #v #bts imagines #bts fluff #taehyung angst #kim taehyung

[hyperfixiation-station]

Hi Sun, could I please request some Alejandro whump headcanons? How does this man react to being taken care of? I love your writing 💜

CW: Sickness, Injuries, Canon-Typical Violence thank youuu anon!!! also sorry for the wait😭😅 I did ramble a bit, so sorry if it doesn't make sense or things get repeated Also I wrote this at 2 veeeery different times so sorry again😭 as always, no beta read, and feel free to ask for clarification on anything :))

My dude is man-cold kinda guy It has nothing to do with the fact that he doesn’t know how to ask for affection and you always cuddle with him when he’s sick

But only for unimportant things. A cold or a sprained ankle?

He's dying, needing you to cater to his every need

But if he's seriously sick or injured he will push himself till he passes out

You have threatened to tie him down if he does not obey his medical leave

Case in point:

He had some lung issues after pulling Rudy from the fire during the whole Hassan fiasco

He got pneumonia because he didn’t rest and exposed himself to cold, wet environments

Oh and he had fracturedbruised ribs from his time with teh Shadows

Of course he didn’t go to the doctor, and you were out of town and couldn't force him to

You walked in on him coughing so hard he couldn't breathe

Blood was splattered on the floor as the coughing aggravated his ribs which aggravated his lungs which made him cough and then it'd start all over

You watched in horror as he choked, as he tried to inhale something other than his saliva

The 12 minutes and 47 seconds it took for Rudy to get to your house were the longest of your life

He was confused when he woke up in the hospital two days later, until he saw you sitting next to his bed, your hand in his, head lolled to the side as you slept.

You gave him a reaming of a life time

"Do you not care Alejo? About yourself? About Rudy? About me? Do you not care what we would feel if you died because you're too Godsdammed stubborn to ask for help? You made this-"

"Ay Cariño, you are beautiful when you cry."

"Don't try to flirt you're way out of this Vargas, I am so worriedmad at you right now."

"I am sorry Amo-"

"Don't do this again Alejo,. I don't think I could handle walking in to find you...because you didn't take care of yourself, okay?"

He hit a wall at that point in your tirade, and you could see it

You climbed into the bed with, curled up so your head was on his chest and fell asleep, the first peaceful night you'd had since coming home and finding him

Things were different after that

It was slow going, but you could see him making an effort to tell you when things were bothering him, to not deflect his emotions and issues

You make him chicken noodle soup when he's sick

And then you'll climb in bed with him and watch Disney movies until he falls asleep

You don't kiss him when he's sick because, ew, germs

But you'll cuddle and run your fingers through his hair

Your dialogue when he's actually hurt vs. when he's exaggerating is drastically different

"Sick" days look like: "Ay, you'll feel better baby." "You're no' gonna die, it's just a sprained ankle." "Do not kiss me Alejo." "Yes baby, we can watch a movie."

Sick sick days look like: "Alejandro sit your ass down!" "Do not make me call Rudy over here." "What do you think you're doing? Alejandro!" "Alejo, baby, why won't you let me help you?"

He got sick 2 weeks after you moved in with him

Like really, actually, sick(he had the flu)

Your first clue something was wrong was when you woke before him

The man had woken up at 6:45 am on the dot your whole relationship, so you knew something was up.

The heat you could feel radiating under the covers was the second

You were fully prepared for over-dramatic, whiny, clinginess, just like he'd acted when he got the cold a couple of months ago

So you were surprised when he got out of bed and started getting ready for work

Your third clue something was up was the fact that he didn't notice you watching him lean against the door for support as he pulled his pants on

"Alejo?" He spun around to face you, honest to god swaying on his feet

"Alejo, baby, you can't go to work like that."

"Like what?" His voice had just the slightest quaver to it

You looked his flushes face, his trembling hands, the way he was leaning against the door and sighed

The only reason you even got him back to bed was because he had the day off, he had just wanted to train

It hurt a little, how he didn't ask you for anything. He didn't beg you to cuddle or hold him, in fact it didn't seem like he wanted you there at all

Not because he wasn't being loving or because you felt unwanted

But because you knew it came from a childhood of misplaced trust and neglect.

He made it clear he didn't want to be touched, but you still hesitantly placed your hand on his forehead to check his temperature

The way he pressed into your palm and the small, shuddering sigh he gave broke your heart.

In the end you had Rudy pull him from the schedule, and spent the next week curled up with him in bed

You got into a very heated argument on day 3, which ended with you in tears and him coughing so hard he can't breathe

When you stayed with him, rubbing his back even after everything, things got better

He still doesn't like being a burden, but it's a start

He didn't/doesn't like your desire to care for him, not because he didn’t want it, but because he didn't know what to do with it/doesn't understand it

He’s spent his whole life in a warzone. He’s never had the opportunity/ability to sit back and let someone take care of him.

It wasn't that people didn't love him as a child, but in-between the drug-trades, gang fights, the cartels push for power and the subsequent war launched by the government, the struggle to survive outweighed any of his problems.

"Alejandro, we can't afford a doctors visit right now, you'll just have to drink some water." "Ay mijo, you have to be more careful, I can't afford the hospital bill to fix your arm, we'll just have to wrap it up at home." "Alejandro I already told you, we can't make it to the ceremony." "I can't, we can't, you can't..."

He’s used to patching himself up, used to people not having time or resources to care when he’s injured. It why he over plays the little things, because he didn't worry anyone when or take up precious time when his ailments could be fixed with a band-aid

His family was too busy making sure they survived to give him the attention a child required. It's why him and Rudy are such good friends.

They spent more time with each other than with their own flesh and blood.

My man does not like being open, and Valeria's betray

He deflects, much in the same way he did as a kid, by overplaying the little things so no one notices the big things.

For the longest time you had to have Rudy text you when Alejandro got injured, because he wouldn't tell you

Anyways hope you enjoyed my rambling!! I tried out a new format so lmk how you like it! Oh and reqs are open :3

#cod fanfic #cod #alejandro vargas #whump #alejandro whump #I rambled #sorry #los vaqueros #no beta we die like men #call of duty #call of duty x reader #cod x reader #angst #i dont know #i don't even know if this stuff makes sense #but enjoy #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick #asdfghjk #i dislocated my shoulder #and now my arm is hurtinggg #and my head #Alejandro headcanons #cod headcanons #in character headcanons

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hi hello! Can I request a Minho x Reader oneshot where the reader is working for WICKED but is like an undercover agent and actually tries to give out info for the Right Arm or whatever and she helps Minho when he gets taken back to the facility(like trying to find ways to free him or at least bring him food or smth when he's not being... yk tortured to death and all- it can be whatever) and she helps in his escape and they all go tho the safe haven where they live happily forever after- ok I'll stop now, thank you. Also I'm in love with your Minho oneshots!

Omg yesss this is such a good request and I can actually do so much with this.

I got really into this one so I'm sorry for the variation in my writing quality lmao. This might be my longest piece yet, so sorry it took so long to get out.

Due to the pronouns used in this text I am assuming it is Fem!Reader. I am also assuming this is based on the films because those events do not take place in the books.

WARMTH IN COLD PLACES PT. 1

MASTERLIST | MINHO MASTERLIST

PART 1 | PART 2

SUMMARY: See above. Minho x Fem!Reader. Movie based fic. Instead of Jorge knowing about the Last City and where Minho will be, you provide that information.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, violence, guns. WICKED being WCKD because movie. I'm assuming you know the rules of the card game Black Jack. This is also time inaccurate because TDC takes place over a couple of days but here you're getting weeks worth of events. VERY long.

You joined the Right Arm as a child, maybe ten or eleven- you can't really remember. You'd lost your parents to the Flare on separate occasions, escaping to a refuge camp after your father started showing symptoms and forced you to flee without him.

You can't even remember losing your mother. You were too young.

After moving from camp to camp, each one being safe until some Crank snuck in, or someone joined unknowingly suffering from the disease.

After the forth move, you met Vince. You tried stealing some extra bread for a girl who was sick (she had pneumonia, not the Flare). You got caught but put up a hell of a fight. Vince introduced himself, and you kind of became his adoptive daughter.

So, when he gave you an alias and a fake ID, sending you on a private mission to interfere and spy on WCKD, you were shocked to say the least.

But it made sense. Vince had been protective and secretive about you, making sure that he kept you away from WCKD's watchful eye. Sure, you're pretty well-known; but only by name. There's several rebellious attempts attached to your name, mainly spread around groups of activists.

But not your face. You were the perfect candidate for an undercover gig.

It took months to go through WCKD'S training, pretending to be older than you were with a name that wasn't yours, but it worked.

And then, even your fake name and life didn't matter- you simply became Guard 175.

It's been two years since you took the job.

Your time in the Last City was unlike any other- mainly stealing information and providing intel.

Until strict message from Vince on your smart watch tells you to keep an eye out for an Asian boy called Minho.

You knew of Minho- of course, you did. Vince and his new allies had been looking for him for the past six months. After the events in which Teresa betrayed you all, you were in the Last City. The Guard job you had required you to stay at WCKD's Headquarters at all times, since you were guarding the building. Even in events where WCKD needed more bodies.

All you could do was try and warn Vince, but by the time you found out what was happening yourself and managed to find a private place to send the message, it was too late.

So, now everyone's focus is on trying to find this random boy you've literally never met for ex-WCKD workers/prisoners. It's been a weird six months.

Much to your dismay, the only information you could provide were the routes the trains would be taking and that Minho might be on them.

Which got messed up, but not thanks to you. You told them the location, but which carriage Minho was on would be random based on where the Guards forced him to sit.

You were still unable to leave your post.

Vince had suspicions that they were bringing Minho to the main WCKD base, especially after you told them the documents stating the destination. It was really the only other option since they didn't save him. So, you're now under strict orders to keep an eye out for him.

You know what he looks like. You have an earpiece and a high-tech smart watch, both of which you keep hiden under your Guard's uniform. These were used to tell you what you had to look for. So, when you broke into WCKD's system, searching for Subject A7- information that was provided by some keen-eared boy called Newt -you knew who you were looking for.

"Miss Agnes," you jog, catching up to Teresa as she struts down the scary clean white walls of WCKD HQ. You hate it here. It's worlds away from the chaotic but cosy environment you spent your life in- from the small town that got plagued by the Flare to the Right Arm bases you helped run. It's too bright; too clean.

Part of your mission is to befriend Teresa. She's Ava Paige's personal lapdog, and if she likes you, you've got an in- and someone with power that will defend you. She seems to be fond of you, probably because if a lowlife peasant can like her, then maybe she isn't so bad.

You, obviously, despise her.

Your job wouldn't have become so complicated if it weren't for her, and you'd probably have a lot of people safe and sound in the Safe Haven. Your job was long, but it was originally to get as much information as physically possible and then flee, providing the knowledge to free more people and completely disrupt WCKD's plans. Now it's "tell Vince if you find this random kid."

"Ah, 175," she doesn't even know your fake name, "I was wondering where you'd got to."

"Yeah, well, you know how it is- busy guarding and all that." She scoffs. She's always found you funny; that might be why she likes you.

"Yes, well, as much as I'd love to chat, I've got to get to the labs." You're glad the mesh masks of your uniform shields your face because that means you can hide your panic.

"Sorry, uh, before you go- I heard one of the cargo trains was intercepted," her face visibly hardens, "I was wondering if that had anything to do with your old friends; the ones you told me about?"

She clears her throat, "I'm afraid so. I just-" she sighs, "Thomas thinks he's doing the right thing. He thinks that this is what's best for him- but I'm trying to do what's best for humanity. It hurts that they don't understand that. But it's fine, because we prevented the Right Arm from getting our most reliable cargo."

"Oh?"

"I can't tell you much, I'm not allowed," she throws a sad smile your way. "I wish I could, though. You've been a great friend. So, let's just say one of the most impressive and consistent subjects is still in our possession."

She walks away, leaving you to huff and puff in the corridor. It made you sick how they spoke about people like they're objects. It's hard to believe the boys you're helping used to hold her so highly.

You return to your room. It's basically a box room that's big enough for a bed, but it's the only place that offers you any privacy. You yank your mask off, tossing it to the bed and pressing your fingers to your earpiece.

"Yo, Vince, you there?"

There's silence, followed by a sharp static. "(Y/N)? Did Teresa tell you anything?" You flop onto your bed, letting yourself move your hand away from your ear now the connection is stable.

"Not really, but she did mention about precious cargo being still intact- and an important test subject. The records I told you about before our raid said the train was coming here- we can only assume that this subject-"

"-Has to be Minho," Vince sounds stressed, groaning slightly.

"V? Everything alright over there?"

"Not really," he sighs, followed by the sound of a squeaking chair, "WCKD's jets have been snooping around base and Thomas, Newt and Frypan have gone AWOL- Brenda and Jorge left earlier to go and find them. But I doubt they're going to bring them back."

Honestly, you'd never spoken to any of these people, but you knew the names well enough to tell who they are.

"What are they going to do then?"

"What do you think?" You sit up on your elbows, processing what he's implying. "You might be having some company real soon."

"Does that mean I'll be able to leave?" Vince snorts a laugh. You've asked him that every single call since you started this gig.

"It might, actually," though, this is the first time you haven't gotten a no. "Keep an eye out for Minho. He should be arriving there within the next twelve hours. If not, he's somewhere else and you're going to have to do more snooping whilst I try to contact Thomas."

"Okay. Speak soon." The connection dies with a hiss.

This was going to be shit.

Not even two hours later, you hear the call off of your walky-talky that Guards are needed at the cargo entrance to transport Subjects. You flew at the opportunity, rushing into the crowds of your colleagues.

Joining the other members at the doors to the carpark, you watch as buses full of innocent people in handcuffs pull up- all in the depressing WCKD garb they're forced to wear. Some faces are familiar from browsing files, some new- all looked terrified.

You stay away from the front, dipping between masked personnel and observing from a distance. You knew exactly what you were looking for- Asian, dark-hair, well built, about eighteen-ish, good-looking, and probably angry. That was offered by some dude called Frypan. You doubt that's his real name, but you really hope it is.

You watch, processing faces and people as fast as you can as Guards grab the Subjects, holding one of their arms, which are handcuffed together in front of them, and leading them into the building. This could be the perfect opportunity to do something, but by the time you spot Minho, someone has beat you to it.

It's definitely him. His image and description match him perfectly, even if his hair is a little bit flatter. You silently curse as you try to make your way over to him, only for another Guard to force him to walk forward.

Okay, new plan- grab someone close and stay nearby.

You don't get to use that plan either when Minho suddenly lashes out. He slams his foot onto the Guard's, making the masked man yelp and let go. Minho takes the opportunity to spin around, kicking the guy in the chest and sending him flying.

Another Guard comes to help, but Minho has got a hold of a pair of keys from the previous guy, just about unlocking one of his wrists before dodging.

Shit.

This is bad. There's no way Minho is going to be able to escape the building under these circumstances. It's brutal and dangerous and he's going to get himself shot.

You act fast, breaking away from the colleagues waiting for their turn and being affected by the bystander effect. You watch as a Launcher is pointed at the boy, as another Guard tries to wrestle him. The guy gets kneed in the groin and you dive in from behind.

Minho seems to sense you're there, spinning around to punch you, but you grab his fist, catching him by surprise and giving you a second to react. You'd done a lot more than basic WCKD training. Vince has been teaching you to fight since you first met him.

You launch your heavy boot into the bottom of Minho's shin at the front of his ankle, causing his foot to bend awkwardly. Taking the opportunity to spin him around, pulling him in front of you. You're quick to switch your grip to his wrist, forcing his arm behind his back. Kicking the weak spot on the back of his knee, he hits the floor with a thump as you hold him in place.

Minho is physically stronger than you, easily. But, you have years of practical and strategical training over his head.

"Not bad, 175," you freeze as Janson's grating voice hits your ears, "do us all a favour and take care of that delinquent- he's unfortunately important."

"Yes, Sir." He stands at the front of the room, watching as the Subjects filter past him. "Come on."

You yank Minho up, forcing him back onto his feet, he groans, anger visibly seething from him.

You hold him close to you so you can lean into his ear and whisper. "Listen man, I don't wanna hurt you but there's no way you're gonna survive here if you keep pulling shit like that."

"Why should I listen to you?" He spits. His voice is scratchy and hollow, full of hatred and aggression.

"You'd rather listen to these assholes? Trust me, I do that pretty much daily, and it's not exactly an ideal lifestyle."

He scoffs. It's dry and very clearly forced. "You think I'm gonna be your friend just 'cause you don't like your coworkers?"

Unfortunately, you have to be vague. If someone overhears and you tell him you're an ally to the Right Arm, then you're a dead man. If they think it's just dumb workplace drama, then they probably won't bat an eye.

"Quite frankly, I don't give a fuck what you think about me- I'm here to do my job. Unfortunately, my boss wants you kept kickin'." That's subtle enough to not bring concern, but intruiging enough that Minho looks over his shoulder at you.

"175," you're moving through the corridors now, having left the parking area and moving to Subject dorms. Your attention diverts to behind you as Janson touches your shoulder, having left his observation of the transfer. "Come with me. Subject A7 has a private cell per the request of Miss Paige."

"Yes, Sir."

This could be good. Minho has his own room away from the other victims, which means you'll have easier access to him.

You follow your "Boss", making no attempt to communicate with Minho in such tense circumstances now.

"That was quite the stunt you pulled," Janson speaks, making you cringe under your mask. "I don't remember many Guards being taught much hand to hand combat- we mostly focus on arms training. It's impressive."

"I excelled in the brief lessons we had, Sir. I knew some beforehand since I had to look after myself in the Scorch- fighting Cranks is no easy task." You keep your voice calm. A lot of people have similar life experiences, and if you haven't lost absolutely everything, you're classed as lucky. So, it's no shock when you casually mention hardships, giving a plausible explanation to your skills.

"I suppose so. You've come a long way, you should be proud of yourself- from street rat to WCKD agent. That's quite the accomplishment."

"Thank you, Sir, but I'm just trying to survive- just like everyone else."

"Humble, too," you can hear the smirk in his voice, "no wonder Teresa likes you."

Shit. Minho physically tenses at the mention of her name. If Janson knows that you're friendly with Teresa, then it's not really a jump in logic for him to think you're up to something.

"I'm honoured to be held in such high regard, Sir." Janson seems satisfied with this response, humming slightly.

Minho is quick to notice how different you spoke to him vs. Janson. It's very clearly a front, but he can't afford to question it.

He leads you to a small room away from the group Dorms, opening the door with a key card and revealing it. It's pretty much the same as your room, which probably says a lot about the people you're pretending to work for.

"Okay, Minho," Janson addresses the boy, condescending and irritating, "no more little stunts, okay? Your friends and the Right Arm can't reach you here. It's better you just give up and help us save humanity." He looks at you, jolting his head towards the room.

You grit your teeth, but follow the insinuation, throwing in the boy as guilt washes over you.

○ ○ ○

"I've found the boy," you pace your room once you returned, immediately contacting Vince.

"So he's there? Do you have access to him?"

"Not really- I know where he is but only higher level personnel have access to it- like Janson." You did a brief sweep of the key card requirements before you left- you're not Hugh enough ranked.

"What about Teresa?"

"Yeah, she'll probably have access."

"Okay, you can work with that, surely."

You sigh, running your fingers though your hair, "Sure, yeah, I guess. But what do you even want me to do now? Break him out? Release his file to you? Both of us escape?"

"I want you to keep an eye on him."

"Seriously?" Your face twists into a frown. "Is that it?"

"We can't risk anything. You're a one man show and one of our best resources- Thomas and his group are probably already making their way to you. God knows what their plan is, but they have more chance with you inside."

"How are they even gonna get into the City? It's on lockdown."

"I have a feeling they'll find a way," Vince huffs, clearly tired of your pressing. "Just a little longer, kid, make sure Minho is alive and okay- I don't know what they're gonna do to him, but I need you to make sure he's still breathing. Am I clear?"

"Yep," you pop the P.

"I also need you to keep quiet about your position, even to Minho."

"What, why?"

"We don't know what WCKD are going to do to him. If he says anything about our operation or you, we've done all this for nothing."

"I guess- alright. I'll sort it," disconnecting and sighing, you lay on your bed. You need to rest. These next couple of days are going to suck.

○ ○ ○

You wake the next day, and immediately start your hunt for Teresa. You have a hunch she'll be dealing with the Minho situation, or at least observing it.

The problem is that the WCKD HQ is huge. And you don't know where the experiments will be taking place. Since your job mainly just consists of walking around and keeping an eye on things, it's not like you're raising any suspicions. Especially since you helped out yesterday.

You turn a corner, spotting Teresa and Ava Paige talking, looking into a lab room with a glass window- one of the several open testing rooms found in this part of the building. You slow your pace, watching from a distance.

Teresa seems to be distressed; her fists are balled and she swallows uncomfortably, almost like she's hypnotised by what she's watching but wants to look away. Ava is unfazed, but she brushes her prodigy's shoulder as she walks away, offering some kind of sympathy.

The sound of clicking heels fade, and you make your approach. Going to speak, your breath catches in your throat as you witness the gruesome scene.

Behind the glass, Minho is strung up to some kind of contraption. Screens surround him and wires come from all over his body. He's stood upright, a foot above the floor and held in place as they start the machine again. One of the screens shows brain wave patterns that indicate high levels of stress.

"He's dreaming." Teresa speaks without pulling her eyes away.

"Dreaming?" You question. This looks anything but peaceful to you.

"Induced dreaming- they're forcing him to experience high stress situations to see how it affects the Kill-Zone," her words are shakey, and you latch onto that.

"You don't sound like you approve." She looks at you, even though she's never seen you without your mask, your voice and the numbers sewn on your sleeve tell her enough- she could tell its you from a mile away.

"During my time in the Maze- and the Scorch -Minho was brave. He's one of the most courageous people I've ever met. I can't tell you how many times he threw himself on grenades to protect us." She smiles, almost fondly as she looks back at the glass. "One time, when we were escaping the WCKD lab after being saved from the Maze, he ran full force and kneed an armed Guard. Completely knocked him out in one go; still probably one of the coolest things I've heard someone do."

"He sounds like he meant a lot to you," she lets out a sad chuckle.

"They all meant a lot to me but... I don't know. I made choices they don't agree with. They refuse to see the bigger picture, and I don't think they ever will."

"Why don't you try talking to him? Maybe visit him in his cell? Even if it's just to make sure he's okay." Come on, if you can get her on this line of thinking, you're more likely to get into Minho's cell.

"I'm too busy- besides, I doubt he'd want to see me. He hates me."

"Ah, yeah, that's a problem," she laughs dryly.

"Would you do it for me?" You tilt your head at her, exaggerating your confusion.

"Do what for you?"

"Look after Minho? Janson says you handled him easily yesterday, so there's no worries about him escaping or causing problems."

"I can't- I don't have high enough card access to enter the cells." She looks at you, thinking for a second.

"I'll get your card access upgraded. I trust you to take care of him- he deserves as much."

And just like that, she'd played into your hands. You're mainly relieved your hours of talking to her had actually paid off in some sense, that much was proven when she found you later that day- presenting you with a new key card.

Heading towards Minho's cell, no one even batted an eye when they saw you slide the key down the lock and the light flashed green.

Minho's sat on the floor, back resting against the bed frame, his legs bent and head in his hands. He doesn't even react to the sound of the door opening or closing.

"I brought you some decent food."

Still nothing.

Cautiously, you walk over to him, crouching and placing the dish on the floor. He looks at it out of the corner of his eye, which is kind of an improvement.

You cross your legs, sitting next to him but facing him. Silence fills the room and you let it. Minho is going to have to talk to you on his own terms if he's going to talk to you at all.

A good five minutes passes.

"You're not gonna leave, are you?" His voice sounds dry and is barely a whisper compared to the aggressive boy you'd tackled not even forty-eight hours prior.

"Nope."

"Did you at least get me a shuckin' drink?"

"...I'll be back. What would you like?"

"Do I even have a choice?"

"I'm asking, aren't I?"

"...Anything alcoholic?"

"No."

"Juice then."

You return ten minutes later with a glass full of orange juice, taking the sitting position that you had previously.

To your surprise, he's now sat with his legs crossed, holding the tray of beef, mash, gravy, and veg that you stole from the dining area on his lap.

You gently place the glass next to him, and he anxiously looks at it. "Not poisoned, right?"

You sigh, lifting the bottom on your mask and taking a sip, returning it to it's spot. He still hesitates, glancing down at his plate. So, you reach over, picking up a small piece of meat, struggling slightly to put it in your mouth under the mask.

He seems to accept this. It takes him a second, but he slowly starts eating- mainly picking at the food and taking slight sips of his drink, but progress is progress.

"You should count yourself lucky- the others aren't getting this quality food."

"Is that meant to make me feel better?" You guess that comment was a bit insensitive.

"Sorry, but you need to eat. You need the energy."

"What? So I'm strong enough to be tortured?"

You hesitate, feeling genuinely bad. "I'm sorry that-"

"No, you're not!" He snaps to face you, eyes full of fury and for a second you think he's going to attack you. "175, right?" He glances at your sleeve, "You stopped me from escaping."

"I stopped you from getting killed."

"I had it under control."

"Didn't look like it." His jaw tenses, staring down at his meal. "WCKD's Guards are trained with guns and weaponry- you're important but not nearly enough for them to risk you ruining their whole operation."

"You mean your whole operation."

"Whatever," you spit, determined to follow Vince's request, "I saved your ass, whether you appreciate it or not. I didn't know what they were going to do to you, I'm only here because-"

"Because Teresa wants you to look after me?" You blink at him, even if he can't see it. "Yeah, I saw you, even if I wasn't conscious. I knew it was you- same height and everythin'. You're helping that shuck-faced shank 'cause she feels bad that she's a shuckin' traitor that sentenced all her friends to death. Betraying little-"

"Okay," you cut him off, "I get it. I don't agree with it- do you seriously think I'd be here if I was just doing this because some bitch who doesn't even respect me asked?"

He looks at you. He really looks at you, like he can see straight through your uniform and into your soul.

"What other reason do you have?"

You shake your head, sighing through your mask. "Finish your food. I need to get rid of the dish- I'll get in deep shit if they find out I'm giving handouts to prisoners."

"The traitor didn't tell you to feed me?"

"Nah, did that all on my own." He snorts, kind of like a forced laugh, but he seems to relax a bit.

The remainder of your interaction is in silence. Minho finishes his food quickly, picking up pace once he gets taste for it. He finishes his drink, passing the glass to you instead of just putting it on the ground.

You stand and leave without saying another word. Minho doesn't attempt to change that.

This is going to be harder than you first thought.

Thomas better work fast.

○ ○ ○

You desperately try to avoid Teresa the next day, and you missed Minho for breakfast since they already took him for another round of glorified torture.

Your avoidance did not work.

"175." You've been guarding the entrance of the building for the last seven hours and you think you're starting to hallucinate. So, when Teresa actually approaches you, probably to leave for the day, you kind of wish she wasn't real.

"Hey," you greet her, for some reason smiling even though there is literally no point. "You okay?"

"I was wondering how Minho's doing?"

"Shouldn't I be asking you that?" You attempt to joke, but when her face drops, you realise you've miss-stepped. "He's fine. As fine as you can be in this situation." You lie, mainly just wanting her to leave.

"Okay," she nods her head, accepting this, "thank you for this."

"It's no problem, Miss Agnes."

"Please, call me Teresa," she offers you a genuine smile and for a second you understand why Minho's so hurt.

"Okay then, Teresa." She flashes another smile before walking through the doors. Of course, WCKD scientists get high-end apartments away from the building.

The second day of your new routine starts. You bring Minho food- and you remember the juice, though it does make it harder to open the door.

This time, he's lay on the floor. Not the bed, the floor.

"Uh, you good?" The question even sounds dumb leaving your lips.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" He grumbles, eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling.

"Yeah, fair point." You sit on the edge of his bed, putting the food next to you but still holding the glass so it doesn't spill. Having a sticky orange juice covered bed would not improve his day. "I've brought you chicken wings and some fries, they were out of the healthy option."

He reluctantly sits up, shuffling across the floor and using the bed as a table as he sits in front of you. You pass his the drink and he sets it on the floor.

"If you're not doing this for Teresa, why are you doing this?" He asks between struggled mouthfuls of food.

You shrug, playing off your intentions. "Wanna pretend I'm a good person."

He scoffs, "No one who works here is a good person."

"That's why I said pretend."

You like to think you're doing a good job at keeping up the act. And maybe if Minho wasn't so exhausted and in pain, he might pick up on something not being quite right.

Though, you have to at least provide Vince with some kind of intel. Teresa said he's dreaming to stress the Kill-Zone part of the brain, but what's the point?

"What exactly are they doing to you?" He pauses for moment, clearly not wanting to think about it.

"Torture."

"I mean, I gathered that." Unfortunately, you have to stay stoic. Fortunately, you've basically been trained your whole life for this.

"I don't know- they put me in some weird trance and I see all the horrible things that's happened mixed with, like, a remix of traumatic things I've gone through- like they're using my shuckin' memories against me to make new ones or some klunk."

Well, that offered nothing, "What do you mean?"

"I don't know. It's weird. It feels so real and I can't tell it's fake when it's happening. But I'll be getting chased by Grievers down concrete corridors, or be back in that mall being hunted down by Cranks, except it's warped and keeps changing and I can't find the way we escaped. It's like being back in the shuckin' Maze, except they can control my entire body and make me do whatever they want. It's the Maze without being safe in the Glade at night, and I don't actually know how to survive."

"Huh," now, this is interesting.

"What? What is it?"

"They're trying to gain similar- or better -results as they did for the Maze trails. Except the Right Arm knows the location of all the Mazes, and pretty much all WCKD facilities so they're being forced to use psychological torture and hallucinations to mimic it instead. Since the City is on lockdown and no one can access it."

He pauses completely, blinking at you.

"What? I don't get it- why would torturing a bunch of immune teenagers help anyone."

"Because they want to cure the Flare."

"So?"

"So, Munnies and normal folk have the same structure brain, except the Kill-Zone area, the part of the brain that's damaged by the Flare, is left unaffected in those who are immune. The Kill-Zone reacts under extreme stress and produces new results and hormones that could, in theory, be used to create a cure."

Minho stops completely, the fork he's holding clattering onto the plate as he just stares at you.

"What?"

"How the shuck do you know all this? You're just a Guard but you know the biology behind all the science?"

"It's kind of common knowledge," you bluff, "the Flare's been plaguing humanity for a while- everyone knows the basic science behind it. I don't know what they expected, really."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you know the Flare is man-made, right?"

A beat passes, horror crossing Minho's face. "What?"

"When the Solar Flares hit, millions of people died, but half the world was pretty much left kinda intact. But, it meant we lost half the globe's worth of supplies and important necessities, so the growing population issue grew tenfold. So, for some fuckin' reason, the big bosses of the World thought it would be a smart idea to make a deadly virus to use as population control. The virus was too strong, spread too fast- those geniuses didn't think to make a cure just in case things went wrong. And, well, the rest is history."

You're actually shocked that Vince, or even WCKD didn't tell them this, because Minho seems genuinely dumbfounded.

"Shuck it," he rests his elbows on the bed, head in his hands. "Why am I not even surprised? Trust some random WCKD shank to be giving me a buggin' history lesson."

"Kinda figured someone woulda said something."

"Yeah, well, they didn't. Some shuck-face shucked up and now I'm being literally tortued to fix it. Brilliant."

"Bummer," he snorts at this.

"Yeah, you can shuckin' say that again."

"Why do you talk like that?" You decide to ask him more questions, mainly because you are genuinely confused.

"Like what?"

"Like that? Yanno, shuck, shank, buggin', klunk- you talk fuckin' weird."

"It's just how we spoke in the Glade. Don't really know how it started, but it's engrained in my vocab now."

"That's kinda cool," he raises his eyebrow, starting to eat again, "leave a bunch of teenagers to fend for themselves and they start makin' up words. It's just interesting."

"Yeah," he hums, "guess it kinda is."

○ ○ ○

You fell surprisingly easily into a routine. You talk to Minho, inform Vince of the current WCKD methods and then go about your job.

It's a lot of effort, but Minho is starting to be less reluctant to talk to you. He fondly retells stories of the Glade, like how he and Thomas survived a night, how bad Frypan's stew was, and that one time Zart accidentally burnt down a hut and Gally didn't talk to him for a month. It sounds like they were genuinely happy there, and it breaks your heart that Minho seems to wish he was back in that trap. Especially when he tells some of the darker stories.

But now there's a problem. Vince had always been touchy and strict about relationships. He didn't want you distracted or upset over some boy, so relationships were forbidden. And considering he's the closest you have to a father figure, you obeyed. Though, that means you've never been romantically involved with a boy through your entire teenage years.

And the first time you've ended up spending long amounts of time with a boy is with the torture victim you're trying to comfort whilst simultaneously convincing him you're the reason for his capture. A very good-looking boy who seems to be warming up to you.

A very good-looking, strong boy who listens to what you tell him and seems to be taking an interest in you and is very passionate about his opinions. Opinions that, unbeknownst to him, align perfectly with yours.

Oh no.

"I don't even know your name." You and Minho sit on the floor, playing Black Jack with a pack of cards you managed to sneak into his room. He's slowly being worn down. His features are more sucken, his skin pale and his hair dishevelled and messy. None of which you can really help. "Or what you look like."

"You don't need to know my name, or what I look like, to get your ass handed to you at Twenty-One last time I checked." He rolls his eyes. He acts like a completely different person around you than to the other Guards. It's hard to watch the empty shell of the person he normally is in this room be pushed around.

"That's not what I mean, and you know it."

"No can do, sweetheart," admittedly, you want to take your mask off because it makes seeing the cards harder. But it does mean you don't have to worry about your pokerface.

Pet names had become an interesting topic. You used to endearingly call members of the Right Arm things like sweetheart, or doll, or hun- something you picked up from your father. Something that has bled into your relationship with Minho.

Not that he complains.

"C'mon," he groans, "how am I meant to be friends with a faceless freak?"

"You think we're friends?" You ask, genuinely as you take another card off of the deck, cringing as it's the ten of clubs which takes you to twenty-five.

"Well," he shrugs, "what else am I meant to call it? Stockholme Syndrome?"

"Wouldn't be that wrong of a diagnosis. You taking another card?"

"Are you?" You shake your head. Minho reveals his hand, showing twenty on his cards, and you dramatically throw yours down, showing your loss.

"God dammit!" He barks a laugh at your reaction. "Why am I so bad at this?"

"You're just playing against a master," you galre at him, "I had plenty of practice in the Glade."

"It's a game based on luck- you can't master it."

"That's what you think."

○ ○ ○

Maybe you got too used to your routine- too comfortable with Minho and the situation you're in, but when Teresa told you she'd finally gained enough courage to speak to Minho, you knew it would end badly.

Teresa enlisted you to guard the room, but with the door closed and your colleagues discussing lunch next to you, it's kinda hard to hear what's going on.

That's until Minho screams the word "Traitor" followed by a loud slamming noise.

Shit.

The other Guards scramble into the room, knocking into you and halting your progress. You burst in, panic swelling in your chest as one of them holds up a buzzing taser. Darting forward, you grab the Guard's arm, placing one arm on Minho's back to at least play it off as the shocked masked man lets go slightly.

"Stop!" You snap. "He's subdued! We don't need to inflict unnecessary pain!"

"It's protocol to-"

"175 is right," Teresa comes to your defense, controlling the atmosphere of the room. "Subject A7 has been through enough- he's in no position to cause any further harm. Return him to his cell and only act if necessary."

Without words, you yank Minho up by the back of his shirt, cringing at the 'PROPERTY OF WCKD' printed on the back. You undo the cuffs from the table and reattach them to his wrists. He makes no effort to resist. He knows he's safer with you than he is with any of his other options.

You walk him down the halls. The rage seeps off of him, his skin under his shirt is warm and his cuffed hands are balled. Unlocking the door to his cell, you push him in, probably a little bit too aggressive. But you tell yourself it's for show.

"What the fuck was that?" You hiss, stepping into the cell. Minho immediately turns to face you, his nostrils flaring, jaw tense and for the first time, you realise how scary he really can be.

"You're shucking kidding, right?" He shouts, causing you to immediately panic and try to shush him. "I'm here because of her! Everything we did- everything we went through- is because of her! And you expect me to be calm about this klunk? Just because you can act like an apathetic shuck-face, doesn't mean I can!"

He slowly walks towards you, throwing his words at you. You back away, not realising how close the door is until you hit your back against it. Minho towers over you, still in cuffs, leaving very little space between you as his chest rises and falls.

"I'm sorry-"

"Sorry? You're helping them! You are keeping me here! Why? You clearly don't like them and have some morals deep down- but you're still bringing me to this shuckin' cell!"

"I have no choice!" You finally shout back, making him flinch. "I don't want to watch this shit- or hurt you or anyone! But I can't help you if I'm fucking dead, Minho! You can get away with this shit because they need you! They don't need me! If I step too far out of line- then I'm dead!"

His features soften as he steps back, giving you more room to breathe.

"What exactly do you want me to do? Trust me, if I could, we'd be long gone from this hell-hole but I have no way of doing that without at least me ending up in a body bag." You huff, crossing your arms across your chest. "And what use would I be to you then?"

The bed squeaks under Minho's weight as he sits down. His legs are spread, elbows resting on his knees, head in his hands. Neither of you say anything for a couple of minutes; you take the opportunity to compose yourself.

Until Minho sniffs.

"Minho?" You push away from the door, cautiously making slow steps towards him. "Minho? Are you okay?"

"I can't do this anymore," his voice breaks as he speaks, shattering your heart in the process. "I can't- I don't- how am I meant to keep doing this?" He groans, frustration mixed with a sob shakes his whole body.

You make the bold move to sit next to him, being closer to him than you've ever dared before at the bed sinks under your weight, you shoulders bumping slightly.

"This is so much worse than the shuckin' Maze- at least I had some control in there. But here? My body- my mind- I- fuck! I have nothing. I-I feel like I'm dying. I can't live like this. Teresa said that I'm saving some kid by being tortured. But what about me? What about all the other shanks they're putting through this klunk? How is this fair? For a shuckin' maybe? They don't even know it's gonna work- how can you justify this?"

You choose to ignore the final comment, even if it stings. Gingerly, you put your arm around his shoulders, rubbing small circles into the top of his arm. He doesn't pull away, his arms dropping to between his legs.

"It's gonna be okay," you sooth him, "we're gonna get out of here, okay?" He scoffs, shaking his head.

"How am I meant to believe you? I can't even trust you."

You know he's right, but it doesn't hurt any less. You wish you could tell himself everything. About the Right Arm and why you're here- everything that Vince told you to keep to yourself.

"I know," you sigh, "I'm sorry." He looks at you, his tear stained face and puffy eyes sending a new drive of determination through you.

To your shock, he rests his head on your shoulder, allowing you to hug him further, resting your head on top of his.

"I hate you," he whispers, more like he's trying to convince himself than he is telling you.

In all honesty, Minho probably had started to develop some liking towards you. And that's what he hates. He thinks you're the enemy, that you're the reason he's here- but he doesn't have anyone else. He's completely on his own until you come into his room. He doesn't even know who you are, but he's already getting attached to you.

"Yeah, I know. Want me to take your cuffs off?"

"Please."

○ ○ ○

You slam the door to your room, immediately throwing your mask across the small space, hearing it thump against the wall. You connect to Vince, fury coursing through tour veins.

"(Y/N)?" The line connects in your ear, "You're not meant to be calling at this-

"Vince," your voice is sharp and concerned, "I need to do something- Minho is on the verge of a complete mental breakdown and I'm starting to regress in progress." You refer to his words instead of his actions- things are already complicated enough.

"Look, I'm in contact with Jorge. Things should start moving soon; Thomas and Newt have made a deal to get into the City. Stick to the plan and be prepared. I need to go."

"What? Vince-" the line falls dead, leaving you alone in your room.

The tests increase over the next couple of days. You've barely seen Minho, and Teresa completely vanishes for nearly an entire day, which raises alarm bells all over the tower- but she returns seemingly unharmed.

Until the alarms start blaring not even hours later.

Fuck.

"175!" A masked Guard bursts into your dorm, scaring the shit out if you not even seconds after the blaring starts. "There are intruders in the building! The Subjects have been released!Come on!"

He runs off, giving you absolutely no time to process what's happening. Diving under your bed, you pull out guns and weaponry you snuck into the building, straping them around your black turtle neck you wear under your uniform before hiding them with your jacket.

You burst out of the room, pulling your mask on and joining the hoards of Guards flooding through the building.

You break away. You know that Minho will be in the testing area since he won't have been with the other Subjects. So, that's where you go.

The tower has fallen into complete chaos. People are shooting at each other and Guards are running around like headless chickens.

You can't get distracted though.

You break into a sprint, staying away from everyone else as you rush to make your way up to the lab where Minho can normally be found. The lab area is surprisingly quiet, probably because you decided to take the stairs for the most part. Using your endless training for Vince to run up the multiple flights of stairs.

You do give up and take an elevator for the last few floors though. You're not superman.

Bursting onto the floor, several scientists seem thrilled that help is here, and are met with disappointment when you completely ignore them. Sprinting down the halls, you skid to a halt.

One of the lab rooms has the door thrown open. A man in a white lab coat is lay on the floor, blood pouring from his side as others seem to be knocked out and scattered across the room.

"Fuck!" You exclaim. If you had any doubts that Minho could handle himself, you definitely don't now.

"175!" Two Guards stand at the end of the hallway. "Subject A7 has escaped! We need to find him. Come on!"

You're left with little choice but to follow them. You all jog down the corridors, the opposite way to which you were originally planing on tracking Minho's footsteps.

You can see Minho, and assumingly Thomas and Newt hugging beyond a room that's walls are all glass. One of the windows from the far room is completely shattered, and you can see a knocked out Guard on the floor.

"Hands up!" The Guard on your left shouts, catching the three boys off-guard. "Drop your weapons!"

Judging by the fact none of the trio move, you're assuming that they've ran out of ammo.

One on your left, the other on your right, you whip your gun out, pointing it at your unsuspecting allies.

It's now or never.

Minho's face drops at the realisation it's you. Was everything you said a lie to make him more compliant? Despite the uniform, he's gotten completely used to you based on height and the brown army boots you wear- different to the black owns adorn by the rest of WCKD employees. It's a subtle difference implemented by Vince just in case. But Minho doesn't know that.

"Seriously?" He snaps, making the other boys exchange glances. "After all this- everything that's happened- you're still with them?"

Newt and Thomas look completely lost, looking back at Minho, who is staring directly at you, hands still at his side.

"Please," you scoff, "I was never with them."

Without warning, you slam your elbow into the stomach of the guard on your left, using the shock to slam to end of your gun into the side of their head. The other one goes to shoot at you, but you rip your Guard's jacket off, throwing it at them.

It engulfs them entirely, making them stumble back. Pointing the pistol at them, a loud bang fills the room as the bullet finds its new home through the fabric and in the Guard's head. Their body hits the floor in a heap and you make no attempt to retrieve your jacket.

Minho steps back, stunned. His hands go to his hair as the other boys lower their arms.

"It's nice to finally meet you, (Y/N)." Thomas sounds surprisingly calm, Newt looks between him and Minho, the cogs setting in place.

"Likewise," you grab the bottom of your mask, pulling it over your head and letting it fall to the floor. Finally revelaing yourself to Minho, you feel slightly insecure about what he'll think of your face, but you don't show it. Not that it matters because he's staring at you in some form of awe.

"What? You guys know- what? What is happening?"

"I'll explain later- we need to move." The boys all mumble in agreement as you join them, hearing footsteps and Janson's irriating voice not that far away.

You all start moving, you taking the lead with more of an understanding of the building.

"What? I don't understand what's happening? How do you know her?" He asks Thomas as your eyes land on Newt. You've seen their files, a long time ago, but you can tell who's who.

Newt's skin is pale, his eyes dark and he glistens with sweat. He's infected. And you're not immune. This could end badly.

"She's with the Right Arm- Vince's secret weapon."

"Sorry I didn't tell you, hun, but I was under strict orders to keep my mouth shut. Let's just get out of here alive and I'll explain everything," you try to hurry them along. "Tommy-boy, fill me in on what's going on."

Just as the words leave your mouth, static connects in your ear. Vince.

"(Y/N), I'm on my way to the City- what's going on on your end?"

"I'm with the boys," you respond, completely confusing the trio even more. Voices behind you and footsteps make you all break into a sprint. "Here! Come on!" You pull them into a room, they barricade the door as you continue talking.

"We're tryna get out but it's not looking good."

"What now?" Newt asks as you all examine the room. "Is there another way out of here?" He asks you and you simply shake your head.

The drilling sound of a mechanical saw fills to room.

"Any ideas?" Minho shouts, backing away from the door.

Thomas turns around, examining the window. "Maybe."

It take the three of them to pick up a metal container, presumably full of anaesthetic gas through the window. It shatters on impact, sending shards and the cannister hundred of feet down into the water.

You all stand on the edge, looking at the boy as he seems to be questioning himself. "Okay, it's doable- just need a little running start."

All three of look at each other like Thomas is losing his mind. But you still all follow him further back into the room, standing by his side. You stand between Minho and Thomas, taking a second to think about how you life has led you to this.

"You sure about this?" Minho asks him, and it's obvious these boys are going to follow him to the ends of the Earth.

"Not really."

Well, that's brilliant.

"Nice pep talk." Minho sarcastically states, his wit still prominent as ever.

"Yeah, we're all blood inspired."

At least the feeling is mutual.

The door bursts open with a bang, all of you turning to face Janson breaking into the room before Minho grabs your hand, dragging you with him as you all break into a sprint. Jumping at the last second, you all plummet out of the window.

"Thomas!" Minho yells.

"Oh shit!" Thomas responds.

You're submerged in the water, just managing to hold your breath last second. It takes all of you a moment to rise again, all panting and all stressed.

Gasping for air, you and Minho look up, catching Janson standing at the edge of the window.

Thomas puts his middle finger up at him.

Kind of iconic.

Swimming to get to the ledge, you make sure they reach them first, taking Thomas' hand as he pulls you out of the water.

"You four, don't move!" You all immediately turn to face to group of WCKD's armed men walking towards you. Thomas takes the front as Minho grabs your arm, pulling you protectively behind him.

He seems to have forgiven you pretty fast, at least.

"Take it easy!" One of the masked men shouts. Hidden by Minho, you pull another gun out of your weapon holder that's strapped around your middle. Thomas also reaches for a gun.

"Ah-ah! Don't even think about it! Get on your knees with your hands in the air!"

One of the Guards suddenly turns around, shooting the other three that are standing with him. Minho immediately steps back, reaching for you and finding contact with your wrist.

"You son of a bitch!" One of them groans, the electricity from the Launcher leaving them useless.

Your savior approaches, taking his mask of and revealing... some dude. Though the others seem shocked.

"Gally?" Minho gasps, and you snap to look at him, returning to his side.

"Minho." The boy simply says. "You guys are nuts." He looks at you. "(Y/N) (L/N), big fan." You blink at him.

"Thanks?"

"I'll explain later," Thomas playful pats his friend on the arm whilst Minho is having some kind of internal meltdown. He's going to be enlightened by the time everyone's told him everything.

The other boys walks ahead and you look at him. "I thought you said you..." You trail off, completely at a loss yourself and remembering what he'd told you about Gally.

"Yeah, me too."

You both connect back to the group, awkwardly ducking and crouching whilst you run through the City.

Trying to hide from helicopters isn't easy.

"Well, they're definitely pissed," Gally states as you hide behind some planters that some trees are in.

"How far are the tunnels?" Thomas asks the new boy.

"Uh, maybe twelve blocks from here." Newt coughs, and you look at Minho, who is very clearly in some serious distress. "We can make it."

"Newt, how you feeling?" Minho crouches in front of his friend.

"Terrible," the boy responds honestly. "It's good to see you though." He pats his friend weakly, and you remind yourself to stay at a safe distance.

Minho joins the other boys whilst you stay with Newt. "He's one lucky shank," Newt tries to laugh.

"What?"

"Havin' you around- some badass chick lookin' after him whilst we couldn't. Pretty, too." You scoff at Newt's attempt at small talk.

"I don't know if he'll agree with that."

"Hey, Newt, we gotta get you up. Gotta get goin'." You help Thomas pull up the sick boy, who nearly falls flat on his face whilst Minho and Gally exchange some words.

Minho takes Newt off of your shoulders, sensing your slight distance from the boy.

They start struggling to carry Newt through the City, when a load explosion and bursts of flames from the walls stops you all dead in your tracks.

"We're supposed to take down WCKD, not the whole damn City," Gally stares into the flames, and you have no idea what's going on. But that's not good.

"Gally, c'mon," Thomas say, yanking them both away whilst you stand with Gally, waiting for him to move. Sirens fill your ears as you start to follow him.

"Tunnels are right up ahead. Shit!" You move round a corner, following Gally's instructions, only to come across a battle field. "Stay low! Stay low!"

"What are they waiting for?" Minho asks as you all hide once again. Unfortunately, he's answered as another round of explosions courses through the streets.

Violence erupts. "We gotta go! We gotta go!" The boys struggle moving Newt again, and you stay behind Gally. Desperately trying to not get hit, you hold your gun in your hands, ready to kill anyone that gets too close. Your job now is to protect these boys.

You retreat to a nearby building, where Thomas contacts Brenda over the radio. You can't make out what they're saying over the static and gunshots. You're too busy trying to shield Newt and Minho.

Though you do make out a clear. "I'm coming to you."

Vince.

You pick up again. "We're almost there," Gally pushes forward, taking the lead as you cover the back.

"Just leave me," Newt grumbles before a truck explodes, sliding across the roads.

A Berg flies overhead, giving you some glimsp of hope. But with Newt is his current condition, you can't keep moving.

"Minho," Thomas looks at his friend, "you run ahead, grab the serum, and get back to us as soon as you can." The boy hesitates, looking at Thomas. "Minho. Go."

"He's right," Gally states, "I can cover."

"Me too," you add.

"No, you're staying here, you could get hurt," Minho tells you, showing you that he actually might not hate you after all.

"I'm coming with you." You're more definite, putting your foot down and leaving with no choice.

Minho caves, going to stand until Newt grabs him. "Thank you." Black drool covers his chin, and his eyes are bloodshot and shifty. He's not gone just yet, but it's not far off. "Thank you, Minho."

"Hey, just hang on, you hear me?"

The three of you make your move. You and Gally cover the faster boy, both of you using your expertise to let him make a run for it.

Teresa's voice rings over the loudspeakers. Her voice trying to pressure Thomas to return to her. But you, Gally and Minho can't afford to stop and listen.

Running at full speed, you reach the Berg, not taking any time to acknowledge your father figure you haven't seen in nearly two years.

"Where's the serum?" Minho yells at a girl with short hair- you're assuming Brenda.

She makes a run for it. Bolting through the City and you're all hot on her heels, a new boy, Frypan, joining the mix.

The four of you get stuck in a tunnel during a shootout, using a car for cover as Brenda keeps going.

"Shit," Minho hisses from next to you. You look at him. "You should've told me."

"I couldn't," the poor Frypan clearly has no idea what either of you are talking about. "You know I couldn't."

"I could've- we could've- shuck it!" He lashes out, kicking a piece of debris that's in front of him. "We need to help Newt. This can wait."

He's mad at you. It's weird- he's protective but furious. He doesn't want you to get hurt but that might be because he wants to hurt you himself.

"Come on!" Gally shouts, "We're clear! Let's move!"

And with that, you're all on your feet again, dodging bullets and flying through the City to try and return to Thomas and his sick friend.

You slow to a jog as the people in front of you slow, spotting Brenda motionlessly standing in an empty pathway. You once again stay back, just about joining them as you watch Minho hit the floor.

His body crumbles in front of Newt's corpse, a knife sticking out of his chest. You stand next to Brenda, observing the distraught washing over the group. You've known Newt for under half an hour, but you can tell he played a huge part in these people's lives.

You suck in a deep breath, approaching Minho from behind. "I'm sorry," you murmur. "I'm so sorry, Minho."

He pulls his eyes away, looking at you instead as you rest your hand on his shoulder.

"You really couldn't have done anything, could you?" He's sincere, all of his anger washing away for a second. You shake your head.

He's on his feet in seconds, throwing his arms around you, knocking you back slightly. His entire world as he knows it is crumbling, but he's seeking comfort in you.

You hug him back, your hand coming to the back of his head, holding him steady as his body trembles. "We can't stay here," you whisper. "We need to move."

"She's right," Gally agrees, overhearing, "it's dangerous. We need to get back to the Berg."

"What about Thomas?" Brenda's voice breaks.

"We'll find him," you pull away from the boy. "But we have more chance of doing that from the Berg."

They all agree, leaving Newt's body and returning to the perilous task of making your way through the City. You take control, being the only person in sound mind to do so.

It takes a lot, but you get there, making sure everyone enters the Berg before you.

"(Y/N)!" You turn as Vince makes his way over to you. "You did it!"

"Vince!" Throwing your arms around him, you allow yourself to relax. You both pull away, emotions of the past two years of your life finally starting to spill out. "We lost Newt."

He sighs. "I'm sorry. But you did everything you could."

"No," you sniff, "I didn't. I could have done more- figured something out. Done literally anything else- I- I could've saved him."

Unbeknownst to you, Minho is watching and listening from a distance. He's known you as stern and in control this entire time, but watching you fall apart in Vince's presence reminds him that you're just another kid that's been put through hell.

He wasn't mad at you anymore. Seeing Newt's corpse and the sympathy you possessed showed him that. But now he pities you. He doesn't know anything of the sacrifices you've made.

"That wasn't your job- it was meant to just be a simple intel gig and it all went wrong. I shouldn't have put that pressure on you." Vince's words do little to make you feel better.

"We have to find Thomas," you compose yourself, returning to your normal stoic form in the blink of an eye.

You make your way onto the Berg, Vince not too far behind you. You make eye contact with Minho, but you don't have time to deal with that right now.

"Miss (L/N)," (you're assuming) Jorge approaches you, a grin on his face, "it's an honour to meet you." He holds his hand out for you to shake. "Ha! You're a living legend, hermano. In the flesh."

"Don't go praising me so soon, dude, this shit ain't over yet." He follows you like a lost dog as you travel further into the ship, "Have you got Thomas' location?"

"The signals weak and the building's burning- but he seems to have returned to the area of WCKD's tower."

"That's where we'll head then."

"Wait," Vince stands behind you as you ignore the stares from the Berg full of people, "the City's being destroyed- I don't know if this is a good idea."

"We can't leave him- we wouldn't be here if it weren't for him he deserves a chance at a happy life and we've already lost too many good people. We're saving Thomas, V. I don't care what you say." Vince looks at Jorge, who has a faint smile creeping across his and returns the stare.

"I'm doin' what the girl says. Kid's got fire; can tell you raised her." Jorge winks at you, making his way to the cockpit.

"You've changed, huh?" You don't even bother looking at Vince.

"It's been a rough couple of years. Let's just get this over with."

The Berg starts up, and you join Brenda, Gally, Frypan and Minho at the open doors, examining the City and the surrounding area of the burning tower.

"So," Gally starts, "everything they say about you? It true?"

"Depends what they're saying." You don't pull your eyes away from the ground as the Berg moves in large, circular motions.

"A lot of klunk about causing WCKD problems- apparently you were the one that convinced Thomas to release WCKD co-ordinates to Dr. Cooper."

Minho looks at you, but don't meet his eyes.

"Yeah, I might've had something to do with that."

You finally raise higher, examining the top of the now fully inflamed tower.

"There!" You shout, "That's them!" Thomas is clearly injured, half being carried by Teresa.

So, he did return.

"What's wrong with him?" Frypan shouts and you shake your head.

"I don't know. Jorge! Get closer!"

There's a struggle as the Berg moves, your hearing turns to static as all you can focus on is reaching them. Qualms with Teresa aside, she's clearly helping Thomas.

Come on! Move closer! Let's go!

The same phrases are repeated as you slide further down the door, clinging onto one of the wire hinges so you don't fall and join them. You grab Thomas, along with the others' hands grabbing towards him, with the help of Teresa throwing him.

You manage to pull him on, and he immediately turns to Teresa. You go to reach out to her, but an explosion knocks her back, forcing the Berg to pull away.

A missile hits the building, and you all watch in horror as it collapses beneath Teresa, swallowing her into the darkness.

○ ○ ○

The next few hours are a complete blur. Thomas had been shot and was seriously bleeding out. With the help of you and Vince, you managed to slow the bleeding.

You didn't even get a chance to admire the Safe Haven when you finally landed because you were too busy trying to save Thomas' life. You got him to the medical professionals, and after several jarring hours, they confirmed he'd be okay. But he'd be asleep for a while.

Since then, you've been spending all your time catching up with Vince and reconnecting with the people you grew up with. It's very bittersweet, and you haven't had the chance, or the bravery, to talk to Minho yet.

You decided to give the Gladers some space. They'd been through hell and they need to process and talk amongst themselves for a while.

After a while, Thomas wakes up, and you watch his reunion with Minho from a distance.

Your feelings for Minho are complicated, and it's beyond clear, so are his for you. It wasn't ever going to be simple, but the events of him turning to you for comfort at least tell you there's more than his initial anger.

"You like him, don't you?" Vince's voice makes you jump as you lean against a wooden beam, observing from your safe space.

"What?"

"Minho? You like him."

You scoff. "I don't think it really matters. I don't know if it ever will."

"You protected him and saved him."

"I also held him captive and did nothing to stop the torture."

"You couldn't have done anything."

"That's not the point, and you know it."

He sighs.

"I thought you were against boys and shit, anyway?" You glance over your shoulder at him.

He shrugs, "You're clearly more than capable of making your own choices. And we're not permanently fighting for our lives anymore, so I don't really have a problem with it. You deserve to have a normal life, kid. You might finally get that here." He rubs your shoulder, slipping past and leaving you to think.

○ ○ ○

Night falls quickly. Vince finally gives a speech, earning rounds of cheers from around the bonfire as you hover behind him, staring off into the crowd with your hands in your pockets.

Vince reveals a large stone pillar in the centre of the sitting area, talking about remembering those we've lost and keeping their memories alive. You watch as Vince is the first, carving Mary's name into the stone.

To your surprise, Vince then immediately hands the chisel to you. You blink at it, before realising and taking it off of you.

People one by one, with their own tools, take the chance to add to the memorial.

You take your time, carving names into the stone, recounting the events of your life. You step back, smiling to yourself, admiring your own work. Even under the depressing conditions.

"Who are they?" You look over your shoulder, your body following you as you stand sideways. Minho's gaze is fixated on the stone. He looks a lot better now, clearly having a couple of days to recover.

"They're uh, they're my parents," you avoid his gaze, but answer honestly.

"You lost your parents?"

"I've lost everyone. My whole family, but I don't think there's enough space for them all," the joke is dark, and Minho doesn't laugh, even when you scoff.

"I had no idea."

"How could you?" You sigh, "You know nothing about me."

"Do you miss them?" The question makes you hesitate.

"I barely knew my mother- the Flare got her when I was young, so..."

"That's not what I asked," his tone is blunt, obviously still harbouring some negativity within the complications.

"...Yes. I miss them. I doubt there will be a day when I don't. My father used to say something that I think is still important- 'mortality doesn't ruin love; it only makes it stronger'."

He looks at you. For the first time, he seems to finally see the real person that's standing in front of you. "Does it ever get better?"

"Yeah, it gets better," you offer him a sympathetic smile, knowing what he's talking about. "The painful memories just become... memories after a while. It feels like it'll never get better, but it does. It becomes precious instead of hard to think about." You step towards him, handing the chisel to him.

He takes it, slowly, seemingly letting your fingers brush against each other on purpose. You go to walk away, but his voice stops you.

"Hey, 175," the number stuns you, making you spin on your heels, rage flooding your features. But it melts away the second you see Minho's dumb grin. "You're right. I don't know anything about you- but I'd like to. If you're willing to tell me."

You nod, smiling at him, "Yeah, I'd like that."

So, when you found Minho sitting on the sand later that night, sitting in front of the ocean, basking in the moonlight, you take the opportunity to approach him.

You silently sit next to him, and he looks at you, following your movements. You pull something out of your pocket, lightly shaking the small box that he immediately recognises as a deck of cards.

"Fancy a game?" He scoffs, turning to face you.

"Only if you actually talk to me."

"Well, what do you want to know?"

"What's worth knowing?"

"Ah, well, that depends on what you deem important."

You fall into a surprisingly natural conversation with him. Both of you actually laughing at some of the things you tell him and the dumb stories from the Right Arm. You also somehow manage to finally win a game of Black Jack, much to Minho's dismay.

"So," you shuffle, brushing some of the sand off of one of your cards, "you still wanna be friends?" Originally, you said this jokingly, but Minho's hesitation makes you nervous.

"Not really," he says after a beat, and your heart sinks. "Shuck it," he laughs, "maybe I really do have, what was it? Stockholme Sydrome? Whatever. It sounds so dumb, but even if we were kinda stuck... I don't think I would've survived back there if it wasn't for you."

He seems almost flustered. "I don't know if my head's shucked or what, but is it really that weird to have a little crush on a kind girl in a mask?"

"No," you let out a content sigh, more satisfied with his strange confession than you expected, "but maybe you should talk to someone about that."

He playfully kicks you, making you feign an injury. "Yanno, I'd be lying if I said I didn't start kinda liking you."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah- which is probably bad because we had a very unbalanced power dynamic." He snorts at this, shaking his head.

"So, what now?"

"Well, what do you wanna do now?"

He shrugs, leaning forward and picking up another card. "I don't think I want to do anything. I think I need to understand you more, and process everything I've been through. Everything I've lost. I mean, there's no rush, right?"

"Yeah. There's no rush," you nod. "For the first time ever, we actually have time to wait."

"You're willing to wait for me?"

"'Course I am. I've got to help run this place and work out my own shit too. I've got enough going on to distract me from pining over you." You exaggerate your tone, making him roll his eyes. "Seriously, take your time. I'm not going anywhere."

○ ○ ○

"You reckon they'll be okay?" Thomas asks Vince as the pair watch the both of you from a distance. Thomas smiles faintly as he watches you flick sand at Minho over losing whatever game you're playing.

"Yeah," Vince replies, finally peacefully watching the closest thing he has to family enjoy herself. "Maybe not now, but that's fine- they have all the time in the world to be okay."

Oh my God, this took me forever. But, I've got no other requests at the moment so I figured go big or go home. Seriously, this was such a cool idea and I loved writing it. Pieces like these take literal days to write, so don't be expecting them too often, but I do love more complex and indepth stories.

Also, I am so down to do a part 2 to this if you guys want to see more of yours and Minho's relationship in the Safe Haven- maybe some more developing relationship stuff, or even some spice if that is want y'all want.

Anyway, I just know no one is gonna see all of this because it's just so LONG. Literally, this thing is so big my Tumblr is lagging. But still, I hope you enjoyed :))

#🌿 petri tmr minho #🌿 petri writes tmr #🌿 petri writes #🍃 petri tmr #tmr fanfiction #tmr minho #minho the maze runner #minho tmr #minho tmr x reader #tmr imagines #minho maze runner

[captaincvans]

Title: Not a Burden

Characters: Shelby Brothers x Shelby!Sister; Alfie Solomons

Summary: Y/N Shelby is starting to feel a burden to her family, and wanted to do her part in helping the family- except she decided to work with another gangster to help her with her cause.

Warnings: A rotten dude exposing himself to a minor. Please do not continue/read if that bothers you.

Word Count: 5.8k

Author’s Note: This was way longer than I expected, but I'm glad to be able to post it finally. I hope you enjoy a longer fluffy little sister Shelby fic! Also comments/reblogs feeds a writer's soul!

Y/N wasn’t usually an eavesdropper, but her family was so loud it didn’t really matter if she was trying to or not. She heard only pieces of what they were talking about, but it was clear on what the problem was. The Shelby family was running short on money. With their reputation, there wasn’t much that they needed to pay for, but maintaining that power requires people to be bought.

“We still need to buy Y/N’s medicine and school supplies,” Polly reminded the boys.

“She’s all better- does she still need medicine?” John asked.

“Yes,” Tommy answered shortly. He wasn’t going to let his younger sister suffer just because they hadn’t managed their money well this month.

“If you boys hadn’t put business before her as usual, she wouldn’t have gotten sick.”

Y/N felt her heart sink as she heard her name being mentioned as one of the reason they were short on the money. A few weeks ago, she caught pneumonia after walking home from school. Usually, one of the brothers would drop her off, but they were called away and she insisted that she would be fine. Tommy left a few Peaky boys around the city to keep an eye on her while having her believe that she was walking home independently. When it started raining, she thought nothing of it as she enjoyed the rain and didn’t find it as an inconvenience. That night as the boys got home, she couldn’t greet them with her usual energy as she felt ill. She skipped dinner and went to bed early, and by the next morning her fever almost overtook her. It was an awful few days, and she had to be hospitalized immediately. Tommy paid to make sure she was getting the best treatment, and as she realized, it must have costed the family a fortune. Her lips started wobbling at the thought that she was the reason her family was struggling, but she soon wiped away the tears, knowing it wouldn’t do anything. She made a promise to do her best to help the family. She started with eating less, skipping a few meals here and there to make sure the food can at least be stretched out without her eating it. Next was her school supplies, she was usually a meticulous scholar, having all her notes organized but she now made it a point to make sure she didn’t need to replace her items as quickly. Her final idea was to use some of her old clothes, and turn them into handkerchiefs to sell on the streets. She was a great seamstress for her age, and knew that this was something she would be able to do easily. With a new found resolve, she took a deep breath and got to work.

Y/N has been selling her handkerchiefs for a couple of days now, not earning as much as she wanted to, but at least it was something. She mostly sold them after school under the guise of playing, and would end up staying up to do her homework. This worked out in her favour as she can skip breakfast the next day for more sleep. She was getting quite tired, but her love for her family overpowered her desire to rest and sleep. It was a cold foggy day in Small Heath and Y/N was standing at a different street to attract new customers. She was trying to get the attention of the people walking by, but to no avail. Finally, she saw a man approach.

“Hi mister! Would you like to buy a handkerchief for a lovely lady in your life?” she asked with a huge smile. As the man got closer, her smile drop as she saw his intoxicated state and leery grin.

“Hey there little girl. It’s not safe for you to be out here all alone.”

“I-I’m not alone,” she lied. “My brothers are just at that shop.” She pointed to somewhere behind her, hoping her lie was believable enough.

“Uh huh.” The man got closer, close enough that she could smell the alcohol off him. “That’s a nice hankerchief you have there. Mind if I grab one-“ He plucked it out of her hand without hearing her answer, and stuffed it down his pants.

“Wh-What are you doing, mister?” she asked, as she saw his hand move inside his pants. He was moaning as if in pain, eyes closed. “Mister?”

“Fuck,” he cursed, shoulders dropping in relief. He took out the handkerchief, a white sticky substance staining the once floral pattern. With an evil grin, he grabbed the back of Y/N’s head, trying to stuff the handkerchief in her mouth. She squirmed against his grip.

“No! What are you doing?!” She was pushing his arm away but he was much stronger. He was able to smear the cloth against her cheek before he was pulled off her by another stranger.

“Now that’s not a very nice thing to do,” the man started. “Taking advantage of little girls.” He nodded towards someone behind him, and placed a comforting hand on the girl’s shoulder. “Are you okay, dove?”

She shook her head, unsure of what just happened.

He took another one of her handkerchief peaking out of her bag, and poured what smells like alcohol from the flask in his pocket. He gently rubbed the white substance off her face, making sure there were no traces left behind. “Make sure you clean your little face real good when you get home, okay dove?”

She ignored his suggestion, staring up at his somewhat familiar face. “Who are you?”

“Name’s Alfie Solomons. We’ve met before but you were just a little babe- about yeah high.” He motioned to a little lower than his knee. “You’re Y/N Shelby. Your brothers and I are business partners.”

At the mention of her brothers she lit up, trusting the man immediately.

“Now what is the likes of yourself doing on the streets? Don’t tell me that stubborn brother of yours cut you off from their money.”

She shook her head vehemently. “Tommy would never do that!” She stared at her shuffling feet, ashamed. “I made my family spend too much money so I want to pay them back. They’re not financially in a good spot.”

Alfie raised an eyebrow, unsure that the little Shelby knows what she just did by telling him that. Any of the Shelby’s enemy would yell in glee by that information, knowing that the mob family was vulnerable to attacks because of their lack of funding. Luckily, Alfie was quite fond of the Shelby family, and his new favourite was the one standing in front of him. His cold heart warmed at the thought that she was so worried for her family that she would go all the way to selling her stuff on the street as if there wasn’t a mark on her back because of her last name. “Well then today is your lucky day. I was looking for a little assistant to help me with things as I settle into me temporary home here.”

“Really? What kinda things?” she asked, eyes wide with hope.

The man was surprised at her eagerness, realizing that her siblings must’ve done a great job at protecting her from their world as she was still able to put her faith in people like that. “Just small things- picking up my groceries from the market, and maybe a prescription here and there from the pharmacy for me eye. I can pay you,” he paused, playing with his beard for the extra suspense. “Ten shillings a week.”

“Wow! That’s so much!” She agreed happily to his terms.

“Every Monday I will give you a list of what I need for the week, and I will pay you every week when you make your deliveries.”

“Thank you thank you!”

“Though before I hire you, you need to be better at indiscretion.”

“What does that mean?”

“You can’t go around telling people that your brothers don’t have money- your brother’s got enemies that could take him down with that information.”

Her eyes widened as she realized the severity of what she had done. “I’m so stupid!” she cried, hitting her head with her balled up fists.

“Hey, hey, there's no need for that now.” Alfie has seen grown men with less guilt for putting their family in danger with the information they divulged. “Lucky for you- you just told lil' old me, and I’m harmless.”

Y/N looked up to the London gangster with tears still lining her eyes.

“Don’t cry, dove. I’m sure even if you spent all of your brother’s money, they wouldn’t have the heart to be mad at ya.”

“I would never do that!” she said, taking his jokes quite seriously. “My family means everything to me.”

Alfie nodded, confirming that he made the right decision in hiring and caring for her. He walked her back to the outskirt of Shelby territory, knowing that her brothers would have people around to look out for her.

It’s been a few weeks since Y/N started her job as Alfie’s errand girl. Both her and the gangster was surprised that her brothers hadn’t caught wind of their relation. Though the two didn't spend more time than necessary together, they became quite close. Alfie was busy with running an organization, and Y/N was busy trying to get her homework finished. She also kept up with selling her handkerchief when she had time between running errands for Alfie, schoolwork, and pretending to be a normal kid in front of her family. She was upset that she couldn’t spend as much time with her siblings as before, but she knew she has to in order to make up for being a burden.

“Y/N,” Finn called, seeing his sister walking to their home after school. “Tommy’s called for a family meeting.”

Her eyes widened, and her heart started thundering with excitement. She raised a good amount of money, and felt like she could share with her family what she’s been up to. “Okay, Finn. I’ll be right there!” She ran to her room, grabbing her shoulder bag full of money and was basically vibrating with excitement while they waited for the entire family to trickle in. She sat in the middle of Arthur and John, ignoring their chuckles at her gleaming eyes. 

“Sounds like it’ll be a breezy meeting if you’re letting Y/N sit this one in,” John commented towards Tommy who was lighting a cigarette. 

“Let’s begin,” the older brother ignored the comment and started the meeting. “As you know-” 

The youngest Shelby’s hand shot out in the air as if she was at school. 

Tommy raised an eyebrow, trying not to show any indication of annoyance at his sister’s behaviour. The second oldest brother was too soft when it comes to matter to sister, and he would rather blind himself than purposely hurt her. “What is it?”

“I have something to share with you guys.” She pulled her out her messenger bag that she carries her handkerchief and the money she collected thus far with.

“What you got for us, girlie?” Arthur asked, peering into her bag to catch a glimpse of her gift to them. 

She took her bag off, and emptied the contents on the table. The Shelby clan’s jaw dropped in shock. They weren’t expecting their youngest sibling to be emptying almost 100 shillings in cash on their table. 

“How in the hell did you get that much money?” John asked. 

“Girl, you better not be stealing,” Polly chastised, eyes narrowing. 

“I’m not! I swear it.” She looked around for her family’s approving faces, but was just met with surprised and curious looks.

“Then you better explain yourself.” 

“I overheard you guys talking a few weeks ago about being short, and I know it was my fault. I stupidly got sick so you guys had to spend money on me, and I felt really bad so I decided to help. I cut my old clothes and sewed them into handkerchiefs- I’ve been selling them on the streets to make the money.”

“You made this much selling handkerchiefs?” Tommy asked, an eyebrow raised in  suspicion.

“Well… no… I wasn’t making much- just a few shillings here and there, but someone hired me!”

“Who?” Arthur asked.

“Mr. Solomons.”

“Y/N!” Polly berated. “Do you know who that is?”

“At first I didn’t, but he said he knew me since I was little. He was a really nice man, and he gave me 10 shillings every week to run some errands for him.”

“What kind of errands?”

“Just picking up groceries and prescription- that’s all!”

“I don’t want you seeing him again,” Tommy said sternly.

“But Tommy- he’s a real nice man.”

“Yea you said that already,” Arthur muttered, unamused by his sister’s connection.

“How did you even meet with the likes of him?” John asked, wondering how his sister got into contact with the mobster.

“Well… one day when I was selling my stuff, this man took my handkerchief and he stuffed it down his pants. I’m not sure what he was doing but he was rubbing it a lot in his pants, and making a lot of weird noises. When he was done there was this white icky stuff, and he wanted to put it in my mouth. I was so scared but Mr. Solomons came and saved me!”

“What the fuck?!” Arthur roared with fury. He jumped out of his seat, John following with him. “Who was this man? What did he look like?”

Y/N’s eyes widened in surprise at her brother’s reaction. “I-I don’t know. Mr. Solomons pulled the man away, and next thing I know the man was gone.” She turned to Tommy who’s jaw was clenched, and his knuckles were white from gripping his the edge of the table. “Am I in trouble, Tommy?” she asked quietly, head bowing down in shame.

“No.” He pushed himself off the table and placed a hand on her shoulder. “You did nothing wrong, but we are going to pay a visit to Mr. Solomons.”

She nodded, following her brothers who were hastily putting on their jackets. She usually held on to Tommy’s hand when they were out for safety, but he had both fists clenched the entire time, making her her believe that she was in trouble. Arthur and John were no different. She thought if they were cartoon characters they would have steam coming out of their ears. It didn’t take them long to get to Alfie's temporary lodging.

“Well well well… if it isn’t the Shelby boys, and the little princess.”

“Hi, Mr. Solomons!” she greeted with a wave and a smile.

“Hello, little one.”

Tommy moved to cover Y/N from Alfie’s gaze which did not go unnoticed.

“Oh relax, would you? I would never hurt a hair on little Y/N’s head. Didn’t you hear? I saved her from an unsightly perv-”

“Did you skin him alive?” Arthur growled. “Did you tear him apart and burn him to ashes?”

“Actually, I’m sure you’d be happy to know, but I have kept the lad barely alive. I figured once the littlest Shelby told you guys what she’s been up to, you lot would pay me a visit.”

“Where is he?!” Arthur grabbed Alfie’s collar, pushing him against the wall.

“Arthur-“ John placed a hand on his oldest brother’s shoulder. “Take it easy.”

“He’s in the barn by the outskirt of town. My men have been keeping him barely alive, but I’m not sure how much longer he’ll have.”

“Tommy-“ Arthur turned to his brother, a short silent conversation happening.

“Go.” Arthur and John didn’t waste another minute and left for the man.

“What are you trying to do, Alfie?”

 “What?”

“Why are you helping us?”

“Correction. I’m helping Y/N. What she chooses to do with the money I give her is her choice. If she decides to spend all that money on the sweet ice cream shop across the street then that’s her choice, and if she decides to spend the money on helping her family, then I really can’t say anything, can I?”

Tommy’s eyes narrowed, and then flickered when Y/N wrapped her hand around his, seeing it was finally unclenched. “You hurt her in any way, and I will end you.”

“Despite your very hurtful assumptions of me, I would never hurt Y/N.”

She smiled at the older man, already considering him another kind uncle.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, little Shelby?”

“8am sharp!” she responded with a little salute.

“Alfie-“

“You can have your men escort her here or I can have my men pick her up and drop her off at your residence. She’s never been alone while running errands-“

“What?!” Y/N exclaimed, surprised at the revelation.

“You think I would let a little Shelby running around associating with me unattended, child? That’s as good as a death wish. I had my men following you to make sure no one would mess with ya.”

The girl pouted, thinking of the bodyguards as babysitters. “I’m not a baby.”

“No, you’re not,” Tommy started, ignoring Alfie’s raised eyebrow, “but you are still a child, and we are not going to take that risk of you running around by yourself.” Not with a target on your back, Tommy added in his thoughts.

As they were heading out, Alfie put a hand on Tommy’s shoulder, stopping the man in his tracks and leaned near his ear. “Girl’s too hard on herself. Now, I don’t what you Shelby boys have been filling her head with but she’s got more loyalty than the lot of you. Make sure you pay her the same respect. She don’t need to be skipping meals trying save y’alls money, but she does it anyways.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched, nodding sharply. “See you around.”

“See you later, brother.”

As they walked out, Y/N tugged on her older brother’s hand. “Tommy, where are we going?”

“We’re gonna make sure Arthur and John do their job,” Tommy simply replied.

“I-I have to see the man again?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“No,” he answered right away. “This man will never bother you again.”

Tommy said nothing as they continued their journey to the barn. In truth he wanted a piece of action in giving the man what he deserved, and he knew he shouldn’t take her with them because this was what he wanted to protect her from, but at the same time he needed her to be physically with him to make sure she was safe. He couldn’t believe in his stress he didn’t check up on her like he should- he didn’t make sure she was safe. The fact that this man was able to even approach her like that was something he thought should’ve never happened. He knew now that she needed more protection- more people to watch out for her. He was more than disgusted at what that piece of garbage did, and he wanted to make sure he paid for his crimes. His sister is pure in every way, and he wasn’t going to let anyone make her feel uncomfortable like that again. He made sure she wasn’t exposed to the dirty life they lead, and if it was up to him he would make sure she never would.

Tommy made sure Y/N stayed in the car, telling her that one of the brothers would be out in a bit to keep her company. He entered the barn, hand already on his gun. He wasn’t surprised that Arthur was still beating the bloodied man up while John leaned on the wall, his fists equally bloodied.

“John, go keep Y/N company outside. Arthur,” Tommy called for his brother’s attention. “Is the man dead?”

“Not yet. I want the fucker to suffer as much as I could,” the oldest Shelby said, spitting at the barely alive man.

Tommy stepped closer, hearing his raspy breathing from the beating he took. He took out his gun, pointing to the man’s crotch. “There’s a special place in hell for people like you.” The Shelby leader kept his voice low, making sure the man wait in anticipation at what he was going to do. He shot the first bullet, the man howling in pain. The two ruthless brothers watched him writhe around before he passed out, then Tommy shot the final bullet to his temple.

Arthur pulled out his lighter from his pocket, dropping it on the man before leaving the burning barn with his brother. Outside, John had Y/N in his arms, the little girl laughing at his animated stories. The two older brothers got in the car and drove away.

When dinner came around, Tommy watched as Y/N serve the kitchen staff heaping of food on their plate, but only put barely any on her plate. He was reminded of Alfie’s words, and stepped behind Y/N. He grabbed the spoon she was serving herself with and the plate, putting more food on it.

“To-Tommy, I’m not that hungry!”

“There’s plenty of food, so eat.”

“I was planning to eat the leftovers tomorrow for lunch.”

“There’ll be food tomorrow for your breakfast and lunch.” He didn’t miss the fact that she purposely skipped breakfast.

“Bu-“

“You haven’t been eating,” he said, and the little girl froze.

She lowered her head, and Tommy’s heart dropped to his stomach when he caught her glistening eyes, and the reflection of her tears on her cheeks. He immediately put the food down, going down on one knee to see her face. “Why are you crying, love?”

“Tommy, I’m sorry.”

“What are you sorry for, love? I told you nothing was your fault.”

“Everything is my fault though! I can’t do anything right!” she exclaimed, tears running down her face. He pulled her up, carrying her to his office for more privacy and sat down on his couch with her on his lap.

“What’s this all about- why aren’t you eating?” 

“I just feel awful,” she wailed finally, her eyes never meeting her brother’s in shame. “I got sick and you all had to pay so much for my medicine! I tried to eat less to make up the money you guys spent on me, but it didn’t feel like enough-“

“No,” he said sternly. “You are not missing meals or eating less because you feel guilty. You will eat the proper amount, got it?”

“But-“

“Don’t make me tell Polly to monitor your meals.”

“I just wanted to do my part in helping with the family. You guys do so much for me, and I haven’t done anything.”

“Y/N, you are a child. You don’t need to worry yourself with these things. Your big brothers are gonna take care of everything for you.”

“But you’re already so stressed out, and I feel like I’m causing so much trouble. I’m not even worth it-“

“Y/N M/N Shelby,” Tommy hissed. Despite his tone, he gently grabbed her chin with his index finger, forcing her to look at him. With tears lining her eyes, she finally met his soft blue eyes, finding no trace of resentment but only love. “You will never say those words again.”

“Tommy-“

“You are worth everything and more than what we have. If I have to lose everything we own and burn down this whole city for you, I will. You are the most important thing in my life, and I will not hear you say those words again.”

“‘m sorry, Tommy.”

“Stop apologizing. You have done nothing wrong.” She leaned back down, her tears stopping to a few sniffles. “So here’s what we’re gonna do. You will eat to your fill, and tomorrow we will get ice cream after you’ve finished your errands.”

Her head snapped back up at the mention of her favourite treat. “Ice cream?”

“Yes, but you have to finish the food on your plate.”

With a wide grin she nodded, jumping out of his lap to get started on her food. He went over to the family room, finding his family getting read to head to the kitchen.

“Why has no one noticed Y/N hasn’t been eating?” he thundered, glaring at his family members for not noticing her lack of proper care.

“She’s not?” John asked, thinking back to his encounters with her.

“I thought she was just getting conscious about her body,” Polly shrugged. “You know how girls that age are, but I always made sure to put more food on her plate.”

“She has been skipping meals because she feels bad that we’re spending money on her, and I will not let that happen ever again. If anyone sees anything amiss- anything at all, you come straight to me.”

“Y’know,” Arthur started, scratching the ends of his moustache. “When I checked her homework the other day, I noticed that she was writing extra small. Me thinks she’s trying to extend her school supplies as well.” The brothers had long stopped making fun of Arthur for insisting on checking her homework. Everyone knew Y/N was the most educated on paper, but Arthur felt it was his obligation as her oldest brother to see that her homework was done and done well.

Tommy placed a hand on his forehead, wondering how much he’s missed in the last few months. “Fuck,” he cursed.

When the family went to the kitchen, they frowned when they saw Y/N staring at her food without eating a single bite. When she saw them come in, she burst into a huge smile. “I was waiting for you to eat together!”

“Oh silly girl. Your food’s all cold now,” Polly chided.

“It’s okay!” she shook her head. Arthur took the plate in front of her while Polly prepared another plate fresh from the stove, adding a bit more food than what initially had. “Arthur no! You can’t have my cold food.”

“D’n worry, love. It’ll get warm in my belly anyways!” He put both hands on his belly, patting it.

She giggled at the sight, and her eyes twinkled at the sight of her family around her. They all made jokes with her whilst still making sure she was eating so when she cleared her plate, Polly sneakily grabbed her plate while Arthur was distracting her and put a little more food in front of her. To everyone’s delight she ate it all, yawning after all the food was gone and the laughters died down.

“Tommy, can everyone come get ice cream with me tomorrow?”

“You were gonna get ice cream without us?” John asked, hand on his chest as if the thought offended him.

"Never!" she shook her head. "We're all going, right Tommy?" Her brother could only nod at her request with a small smile.

Arthur cleared his throat and got up. “Now before you go to bed, love, we need to check your homework. Perhaps we can clean your backpack as well.”

“Okay, Arthur.” She hopped off her chair, grabbing his hand and leading him to her room where she does all her homework. She took out her notebook, and Arthur immediately noticed the worn out pages from how little she had written in the notebook- it was barely legible.

“Love, I can barely read your writing!” he exclaimed. “You need to write bigger next time- for your dear old brother’s sake, eh?”

“Sorry, Arthur.” She looked down at her shoes. “I was trying to make my notebooks last longer so you wouldn’t have to buy me more.”

“None of that. You’re our little scholar- we need you to be studying hard with all the right supplies or else who’s gonna be keeping Tommy in line?”

She giggled at his jokes, and nodded, relieved that she didn’t have to lie to her brothers anymore.

“Now, read me your answers so your dear old brother doesn’t have to strain his eyes.” He sat on her chair, picking her up to put on his lap just like when she was smaller.

She read him the questions and her answers, pointing them out so there were no spelling errors either.

“Well, we got ourselves a little Shelby genius here!” he kissed her cheek, and she flinched away from his moustache, giggling all the way.

“It tickles!” she shrieked as he continued to rub his cheeks against her soft ones.

“Alright, love. Good job on your homework.”

“Can I go to bed not, Artie? I’m feeling kinda tired?” the littlest Shelby yawned to prove her point, already almost dozing off.

“Tired, eh? What have you been doing to be so tired?” Arthur asked it as a joke, but Y/N avoided his eyes as she thought he was being serious.

“I’ve been staying up late making the handkerchief, and waking up early to sell it so I can do errands for Alfie after school and still do my chores when I get home.”

Arthur’s heart broke hearing how much his youngest sister has been working, and he immediately gave her a hug. “You don’t need to do that anymore, love. Tommy’s got a plan- kid like you don’t need to be working so hard, eh?”

She nodded, almost already dozing off in her brother’s embrace.

“Go get ready for bed, and I’ll come back to tuck you in.”

“Okay!” She left for the bathroom, and Arthur went back to the kitchen where his family had stayed to grab her a glass of water for the night.

He gave a deep sigh, rubbing his forehead and closing his eyes tightly.

“Is Y/N okay?” John asked, his oldest brother’s state putting him on alert.

“Girl’s been working herself to the bone for the last month- staying up late, not eating, and still trying to run everyone’s errands. She’s fucking exhausted and it’s not even 8pm yet where before she would be begging us to play with her until midnight.” Arthur shook his head, filling up the water in the cup and leaving again.

“You tucking her in?” Tommy asked.

“Yea. She asked if she could sleep early- nearly fell asleep on me.”

Tommy nodded, following his older brother to her room. Y/N was brushing her hair, lighting up when she saw her brothers again. Arthur placed the glass of water beside her bed, and came up to her to take the brush from her hand. He finished brushing her hair for her, reminding the siblings of when she was younger and sat on his lap while he tried figuring out how to braid her hair.

“There you go, love. Prettiest girl in all of Small Heath.”

She giggled, but shook her head. “No, Artie- That’s Ada!”

“You both are the prettiest girls in Small Heath, and dare I say the whole world!”

Y/N giggled again, giving her brother a big hug before settling in bed where Tommy was standing by. He smiled as she got under the covers, and he sat down on the edge of her bed, pulling the covers right under her chin. He placed a hand on her small face, rubbing at her cheek with his thumb. He noted how soft and smooth it was, reminding him just how young she was. He leaned down to place a kiss on her forehead.

“I love you, Y/N- so much,” he whispered seeing her eyes droop.

“I love you too, Tommy,” she mumbled before succumbing to her tiredness.

The next day, Y/N and her brothers made their way to the ice cream shop. Suddenly, she stopped and gasped. “We should invite Alfie!”

The brothers couldn’t stop their sister in time before she ran off to his house, and they were quick to follower her. She knocked on his door, rocking on her feet in excitement. When the door opened, she was surprised to find someone else at the door. She hadn’t noticed but her brothers surely did that his hand was underneath his coat, most likely holding on to a gun.

“Excuse me, is Mr. Solomons home?” she asked before being pulled back by Finn behind her other brothers who had stood in front of her.

“Ah if it isn’t the Shelby clan,” the man muttered.

“Who’s there?” Alfie asked, approaching the door.

“Alfie!” Y/N greeted, shaking off Finn’s hand around her. “D’you wanna come with us to the ice cream shop?”

“Well I can’t refuse a little lady as yourself.” He grabbed his hat, and gave instructions to the man who opened the door. “Be a dear and finish up here, why don’t you.”

The Camden mobster followed the family to the ice cream shop, everyone in the shop immediately ceasing their chatter. Y/N paid no attention to the fear in everyone’s eyes as she ran up to the selection of ice cream they had.

“Mister, I want ice cream for all of us, please!” she ordered. “I can pay for everyone!” She held up her little horse purse that Tommy got her so long ago.

“Oh, there’s no need for that,” Alfie said, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“No, no! I want to treat you guys to ice cream.” As she went back to picking a flavour, the 4 mobster (and Finn) stared the poor owner down, not having to say a single word to get their point across.

“Don’t worry about paying Miss Shelby. Your ice creams are on the house!” he said trying to sound jovial, but tripping over his words.

Y/N didn’t notice his stutter, but beamed in happiness. “Really?”

“Yes- you never have to pay for ice cream here!” 

“Wow! That’s very nice of you, mister!”

Y/N made sure everyone got their ice cream first, having a habit of putting everyone first. When it was time for her ice cream, the man made the mistake of making eye contact with Alfie. His shaking hands didn’t wait for Y/N to grab the ice cream, and slipped form her tiny hands and on the floor.

“Oh no- oh God,” the man immediately muttered. You could hear a pin drop at how quiet it was in the shop. People tensed, waiting for a bloodbath to occur.

Y/n gasped in surprise. “Oh no! Spilled ice cream. I’m sorry mister- I can help clean up!” She narrated the event only like a child could.

“Oh- uh- well- Don’t worry about the mess,” the man sputtered. “It was my fault. I can give you another ice cream.”

“It’s okay mister. You already gave us all ice cream,” Y/N said, trying to hide her disappointment. Her bottom lip jutted out slightly, and her shoulders were slouched. “Thank you though.”

The man could feel the mobsters tearing him up with their eyes. Finally it was Tommy who spoke up. “Here, love. You can have my ice cream. I know it’s your favourite flavour.” Seeing as Y/N wanted to be just like Tommy in every way, it didn’t surprise anyone that they shared the same love for a certain flavoured ice cream.

“But it’s yours, Tommy.”

“I wasn’t hungry anyways.” He placed it in her hand, making sure she had wrapped her hand around it before letting go. “Let’s go home now.”

“Okay, Tommy! Thank you.”

No one dared breath until the gang was out of the shop. However it was made clear in those short moments of two things. One, little Y/N Shelby was one of the most polite and kind kid of her age group. And two, she was also one of the most protected kid in all of England. The hold she has on the two of the most feared gang in England made her a force to be reckoned with.

#tommy shelby x sister!reader #tommy shelby x reader #thomas shelby x reader #shelby!sister #peaky blinders imagine #thomas shelby x sister reader #peaky blinder imagine #arthur shelby x reader #john shelby x reader #josephine writes

[babiebom]

apologies for my absence- holiday periods are tiring lmao how were they for you? unfortunately we have yet to watch the fnaf movie, as our group is one that is exceedingly difficult to make plans around because we're all busy 💀 but then there's the one guy who doesn't want to leave his house lmao luckily, iv'e been pretty good at staying away from spoilers, so i've got that going for me. on the other hand, i'm planning to go see Trolls 3, and my mother and sister recently went to see the new Wonka movie. Though from what i've heard from a friend, Wonka's no good :// Yeahhh, if i actually commit to the mod, i'd have to learn pixel art and reteach myself code and programming 😭... i used to be somewhat decent at it. oooo yes i love a good choose your own adventure! they're so much fun and i've actually coded 1 of my own :,) it was through Visual Basics though, so the formatting was a bit weird for me lmao if you're going for a visual novel type of look and playability, I'd probably recommend Unity or itch.io? in my experience, Unity is probably easier to use.. theres another website/app i used but i can't recall the name sadly :( if i do i'll get back to you though! i don't have that much of a detailed request this time, but perhaps some fluff and love languages between rasmodius and the reader? or like hcs of rasmodius's evolving interest/thoughts arund the reader before finally getting together? i'd perhaps request nsfw/smut stuff too but tbh i just don't have any ideas 💛 tysmm :D -🔮

A/N: I’m glad you’re okay!! Honestly I’ve been sick these past couple of weeks (I caught pneumonia and had it for a month before going to the hospital. I thought it was a cold oopsies) I haven’t watched anything new recently but I am watching the third season of singles inferno with some friends. And I guess until I can figure out how to make a visual novel I have to write the fic out lmao sucks for me because I think a game would be better but oh well. What can I do? And like always I’ll try to do both!! Check back for the second one!!

Tw: cursing, slight nsfw but no full on smut. Let me know if there’s something I missed!!

Wc: I have no idea! But these are headcanons so 10+ is the goal!!

Sdv Masterlist

Okay so there are five main types of love languages.

Physical touch, Words of Affirmation, Receiving Gifts, Acts of Service, and Quality Time.

I would also like anyone reading this to remember that these love languages are how you want to be loved/receive love not how you show love to others.

I do think that Rasmodius is very connected to himself

And by that I mean I think he knows himself very well, or at least he thinks he knows himself very well.

And for a long time I think he probably thought that Quality Time and Physical Touch were his main two love languages.

I mean idk if it’s canon but in my opinion I do think he cheated on the witch with Caroline

And I’m not gonna go into it here because this isn’t about them, but I think it might’ve had to do with that and his own struggles with temptations.

And I also think gift giving is canon for literally every single character in stardew because that’s the main way to befriend someone.

But I think that after marrying you/beginning to date you he realizes that his actual love language is words of affirmation.

While Physical touch and quality time are still very important to him, being with you makes him see that he really does like being praised.

Like whenever you say that he has done something well, or that you like something he has done his heart flutters as if he were a teenager again.

Especially when it comes to his magic

Like I feel like the townspeople aren’t really fond of him

And they never thank him for the things that he does whenever they actually need him for stuff

Like the haunted maze

Like they’re just talking about how weird he is and how he got it done

But they never stop and say anything that’s positive like WTF

So I think he would appreciate whenever you thank him or praise him and it would go straight to his head (which one idk 👀)

With quality time I feel like you get a lot of it after he moves to the farm

Like unless he’s working in his tower, or you’re off somewhere like in the mines

That you’re like together even if it’s spent in silence

And he loves that

Like he was super lonely before even if he doesn’t want to admit it

So just being in the same room as you counts as quality time for him.

And if you’re doing an activity that’s particularly domestic

He’s in heaven like he doesn’t wanna make it a big deal

But baking and helping you around the farm makes his heart soar.

I think in terms of how he shows love i think he would show it in acts of service and gift giving

Like oh you don’t feel well?

Don’t bother going to the clinic he’s just going to create a potion that stops you from getting sick

You’re afab and you’re having bad cramps during your period?

Consider them gone

Look at this thing he got for you

And while yeah this might seem like either a lot of insincere

In his mind and heart this is how he shows that he appreciates you and wants you to live a good and easy life.

If he can make things easier and less stressful for you

That’s exactly what he’s going to do

He loves you and while he loves receiving attention and love he’s kinda crap at giving it in the same way because he just doesn’t really know how

So this is how he does

He’s VERY romantic sometimes and shows it through gifts and services.

Very cute and a good significant other when you get past his rough exterior.

#stardew valley #sdv #stardew #sdv headcanons #stardew headcanon #stardew valley headcanons #sdv shitpost #stardew shitpost #stardew valley shitpost #sdv expanded #stardew expanded #stardew valley expanded #sdv rasmodius #stardew rasmodius #stardew valley rasmodius #sdv x reader #stardew x reader #stardew valley x reader #sdv magnus #stardew Magnus #stardew valley Magnus

[asshlyyyy]

Hospital Stays (Austin!Elvis x Reader)

Am I starting to hit all the requests I received? Maybe, if they keep being short like the last two I’ve done. So, I changed up the request a bit, just because it kind of linked with the car crash one that I did linked here! I just made the reader sick instead! I hope that is okay!

New schedule will be up in a couple of days once I have a few things written out. Part two of Fairytale will definitely be out at some point. Just look at my new schedule when it comes out!

Original Ask By Anonymous!

Masterlist

Pairing: Austin!Elvis x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Spelling and Grammatical Errors. 

Word Count: 1.6k

“Elvis, you act like I’m dying.’ You stated as you looked over at him. Elvis shook his head and looked up from his book that he was reading.

“You are in the hospital, which in turn shows you are dying.” He pointed out. You rolled your eyes and shook your head. He was always dramatic when it came to you and your health. He often brings up when he first got the call. He thought you were dying. You aren’t… he’s just dramatic.

“I am simply sick. The doctors said I’ll be fine in a couple of days. I don’t want you to force yourself to stay here. It’s boring.”

“Oh please, when you’re around? You’re the life of the party, darlin’.”

Ever since he got told that visitor hours were over the first time he stayed… he bought threw a fit. He ended up making a large donation to the hospital in order for him to stay. He probably could have just used his charms and it would have worked. You weren’t complaining though. You loved when he donated. It really showed off his kind side. 

“Plus, without me, you’d be bored outta damn mind.” You hummed and nodded. He had a point there. You were pretty much by yourself when he wasn’t here. It wasn’t all too bad. You’re parents visited, but they all left. That was a hard few days. When Elvis came and stayed… you were happier, and less alone.

"Okay, Elvis. I get it, you're right." You rolled your eyes playfully and pulled up the sheets on your bed. Elvis held a smug look and got up and came over to you. You turned your head to face him and put a slight tilt to it.

 "Oh darlin', that's all I ever wanted to hear from you." He pressed his lips to your cheek. You pushed him away and shook your head.

"Shut uppppp," you whined lightly and grabbed the pillow to throw at him. He caught it with ease and a laugh left his laugh. You laughed lightly as well but then started to get a fit of coughs. 

Elvis came to a stop and rushed to your side. It's like with every moment you showed any pain or hurt, Elvis jumped to your side. He reached for your water and you shook your head. You waved your hand and held your other to your chest.

"I'm okay, Elvis." You said once you calmed down. You took a deep breath and took the water out of  his hand. You took a sip and closed your eyes.

"Darlin', ya can't just scare me like that."

"You can't die of pneumonia. It's nothing," you shrugged like it was nothing. Elvis gave you a look and placed his hands on his hips.

"Nearly a thousand people die from pneumonia every month," Elvis spoke his facts out, that he most likely asked the doctor. 

"Yeah, well it can't kill me. I gave birth to three of ya kids, and they weren't easy." You shook your head.  

"Yeah, I know and ya never let me down bout that," He pulled up the chair next to your bed.

You were lucky that it wasn't contagious anymore. Still, you kept your kids far away from you. If they were to catch something from you... they wouldn't be able to heal as quickly... or well... ya know. You missed them. It brought you to tears sometimes not be able to see your kids... 

"You miss them don' ya?" Elvis said softly. You nodded your head slowly. "Yeah... I miss them a lot... I just want this to be done... I want to see my kids... I want to see our kids." You replied as you turned your head away. Every time you thought about your kids you became a mess.

It was important to be there with your newborn. This is the most important time in their lives and you are sitting at the hospital. You were great full for yours and Elvis’ parents, but you just wanted to be able to take care of your kids once again. 

"They miss you too... Especially Lil Myra." Elvis mentioned. You smiled softly at her name. 

"Oh, Myra... my baby..." You frowned and started to tear up thinking about your youngest. It may have been almost a year ago that you gave birth to her... but you missed your baby.

Myra was the only girl you two had. Well, to date that is. You two were sure you were going to have another baby at some point. You had two older sons who loved to cause chaos, and you did miss them just as much. 

“They miss ya a lot,” Elvis stated. You smiled softly and looked over at him. You were jealous. He was healthy… he was able to leave the hospital… see your kids. Not to mention… he was attractive… nice… a singer… he had an all. What did you even have?

“Sorry to bother you Mr. and Mrs. Presley. Just have to check on a few things.” A nurse announced as she entered the room. You nodded and wiped your eyes clear of any tears. Elvis moved out of the way and the nurse started to check your vitals and what not. 

“Do you know when I will be able to go home?” You asked her. The nurse looked at you and then down at her clipboard.

“Well, if everything goes well… you should be able to go home in a day or two. You’re very strong, and its all pretty much cleared up.” She explained. This was honestly the best news you heard since you’ve been here. 

“Really? Like you aren’t pulling my leg? I can go home soon?” You asked. the nurse chuckled at your response and nodded. You looked over at Elvis who held a smile on his own face. You were sure he wanted to be home just as much as you wanted. 

After the nurse was done you opened your arms out for Elvis. He got the message and engulfed himself in your arms. You let out a sigh of pleasantly and nuzzled your head into his chest. 

“This is great news. I got to give the kids the good news.“ Elvis spoke. You let out a chuckle and shook your head. 

“Maybe not yet. A lot can change in a few days… I just… I don’t want to get our hopes up just for me to… yeah know get stuck here.” You said. There was always a possibility for that to happen. You could be fine for a few days and then BAM. You get whacked in the face. 

“May I remind you… You gave birth to three of my kids. You are going home in a few days.” He brought up. He was right, and they were not easy ones either. There was just something about Elvis that made labor hell. 

“You promise?” You tilted your head slightly, as you looked up into his eyes.

“Yes, I promise, Y/n. I will make sure of it. I will pay them, and get you a private nurse if I have to. You are coming home.” You hummed in response and smiled. That did sound nice. Even if you had a private nurse. You would be home. Nothing against Hospitals… but totally everything against them. They just brought your mood down.

“You better not break that promise now, Mr. Presley, or I’ll beat ya ass.” You teased lightly. Elvis let out a laugh and kissed your cheek as he pulled away.

“I’m sure ya would Mrs. Presley. I’m sure you would.” Elvis went towards the window to look out of it. You watched him out of curiosity. 

“When you get out, I’m going to take you home, so that we can pick up the kids, and take you to your favorite restaurant. Then afterwards, I’m going to take ya shopping.” Elvis said and turned to look at you. You shook your head in response.

“I just want to go home after this. Spend time with our kids. Eat a home cooked meal. Plus, I don’t want you spending your money on me.” You pointed out to him.

“Darlin’, I’m paying your hospital bill. Not to mention, I always want to spend money on you… and our kids… and everyone I know. For once I can do that.” Elvis said softly and came over to you. 

“I know you do, but you also have to be smart about you. You have to safe your money. We have to think about our children’s future. So, please… once I am free to go home… we go home and have a home cooked meal with our family.”

“Fine fineee, but you aren’ getting out of it. I will take ya out to dinner, and I will buy you something.” Elvis wiggled his finger at you. You let out a groan and playfully rolled your eyes.

“I’m going to bed now.” You stated and turned your back towards him. You just didn’t want to listen to him about spending money on you is all. Cause… you had everything you wanted, you didn’t need more. 

“You aren’t even tired.” Elvis tried to point out to you. You let out a hum and nodded. 

“Mmm, I am now.” You laid yourself down. You pulled the sheets up to under your neck. Elvis walked out and took a good look at you.

“You’re lyin’ to me.” Elvis spoke out. Which, well… you were a bit. However, the more you slept, the more time passed. Plus, it also gave your body time to work on healing you, instead of worrying about keeping you awake. So, double bonus points. 

“Mmm, I’m sleeping. Shhhhh.” You closed your eyes. Elvis let out a sigh and shook his head. He leaned down and kissed your head.

“Sleep tight, my love.”

Want to join my taglist? // Let me know If I spelt any wrong! I have updated my form for my taglist. You will be tagged under everything now in that selected fandom/person. Just makes my life easier.

I’m pretty sure my taglist is not working much anymore. I might start tagging people in comments, but- that might get a bit hard? I’ll have to see, but until I can figure something out, hit me out with some ideas. In the end, you might just have to turn on my post notifications. 

#austin butler elvis #elvis x reader #elvis imagine #elvis #elvis 2022 #elvis presley x reader #elvis presley #elvis presley fanfiction #elvis presley fic #elvis presley fluff #elvis film #elvis fic #elvis fanfiction #elvis fluff #elvis movie #elvis movie 2022 #austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler masterlist #austin!elvis x reader #austin!elvis angst #austin!elvis fanfiction #austin!elvis #austin!elvis fluff #austin!elvis fic

[truthseeker-blogger]

*UPDATE - GOFUNDME*

Good morning, It's been 3 months to the date since my last update here on gofundme, I apologize for that. I've mainly kept most people abreast on tumblr, though I do realize all are not on that platform.

I had pneumonia in November just before Thanksgiving, then early December, I contracted covid. Matt had confirmation of covid as of yesterday.

Thankfully, a doctor was on call on a Sunday, and I was able to get medication for Matt.

Then, there was another confrontation last week with the dog upstairs being off leash and attacking Justice while we were outdoors. Both dogs are fine, but I am still shook about it.

I did create a sign for the front door and place it there when I take Justice outside, and no one upstairs has to question whether we are outside or not.

We had heavy rains the week before Christmas, resulting in several inches of water in the basement. We had to throw out several rugs, but we were able to save a couple of throw rugs and air them out. It was exhausting, just coming off of sickness, using a wet vac and broom to push water out of our room to the sump pump on the other side of the basement.

A rather tall shelving unit almost toppled over onto me due to a rotted leg from water damage, over the years, I imagine, and I had to make adjustments where to store canned goods, and shift things around a bit in our very limited space.

We had more rain a few days ago, but only a small puddle came through the wall. We lost power for a few hours due to someone's vehicle hitting two poles down the street.

I just wanted to say due to donations the last several months, we were able to get another air mattress, pay some bills, buy my son a rain jacket and boots as Christmas gifts, otherwise there would be nothing for him.

This was the third Christmas for my son without his father being alive, his father's birthday would have been 2 days before Christmas, and my son handled it well. One night recently, I reflected on the fact it's been a year since he was hospitalized and grateful he is home and not hospitalized.

Matt still has pain in his shoulder no matter the task he does at work. It's the repetition, I believe. He continues to lose time out of work, but he is a real trooper pushing through the pain most days. I won't go into specifics here publicly because it is ongoing, but at least the court case started in October.

Many requests came through from the defense which are being opposed by our attorney, due to the information requested being irrelevant to a deck not being built to code and causing bodily harm to Matt.

We are sure more delaying tactics will be expected, though frustrating. Your donations helped with numerous things over the past year, doctor copays, mri scans, gas money, pay bills, food, replace items due to mold, even treats and toys for Justice, as he is surely feeling the confinement of being in one room.

We continue to have lost wages due to sickness. I lost 3 weeks pay due to sickness, and will lose another week in quarantine this week. Matt will also lose pay this week due to covid.

You helped us not lose our sense of autonomy, as we wade through these difficult waters.

We were able to feel like human beings, not inanimate objects, stored away in a basement, forgotten.

We hold onto the faith, our lives will be restored to be once again living in our own household. We wish to thank you all for your continued support, prayers and donations.

Without you, I shudder to imagine where we would be. We are forever indebted for your generosity, and support.

May you have a blessed, healthy new year with you and your families.

With much love and gratitude, Mary and Matt 🙏🙏🙏❤❤❤❤❤

Numbers 6:24-26

‘May the LORD bless you and protect you. May the LORD smile on you and be gracious to you. May the LORD show you his favor and give you his peace.’

[tovanori]

I have been struggling for a couple of years now, I think when the pandemic hit or maybe a few months before even that. It's just been hard losing my muse and battling all these health and mental health issues. Honestly I don't know if I'm worth being an artist a lot of the time, but my health shit prevent me from doing a lot of other things as well. Getting Covid 3 times has taken a pretty nasty toll on my body and I've gotten pneumonia again and just keep getting sick every month. If not every couple of weeks. And I just wish I could draw like I used to before lol. I just miss releasing art that I was happy with and joining fandoms and stuff... I miss creating.

#slife #vent #I truly just want to disappear a lot of the time because I feel like a lot of my life is sliplping past my fingers and I don't know what to #do anymore #I want to try of course I do #I'm trying to find online work #remote work #but jesus christ all these companies make me sick

[softnoodlesdoodles]

Today it's officially one year since I got the covid infection that gave me long covid. I thought I'd have a lot of feelings about it, but I kinda don't. Maybe I'm also just really tired and sleepy today. It definitely feels like a year with how much it has become my new normal.

It's weird to think back to myself doing that little test. It was my first covid infection. I had just had the flu in December so I was annoyed that I was sick again. I remember hoping it wouldn't last too long. I had a concert in a couple of weeks and I didn't even think about the fact that I might miss that.

I did miss that, just like I missed a concert in July and a concert in September. My initial infection turned from something that felt like a bad flu into pneumonia. I remember 5 weeks in getting antibiotics for the supposed bacterial infection I had on top of covid, and being hopeful that this would finally get me back on my feet just like when I had pneumonia a couple of years ago. It did not. Some symptoms got better and others stayed. My fever didn't go away and my fatigue and breathlessness didn't either. I thought I just needed some more time and to build up my stamina. But week after week passed and all my attempts to exercise were rudely met with even more sickness. I got new symptoms, like dizziness, heart palpitations, sweating, random rashes, digestive issues and brain fog.

For a time I called what I had "middle covid". I was told that for some people it just takes a little longer to recover. Eventually I hit the 3 month mark, and I was told that most people who hit this mark recover within 6 months.

I started occupational therapy and physiotherapy. Both were a mixed bag of helpful and not helpful. My occupational therapist at times treated my condition more like a psychological problem and physiotherapy was often too intense for me.

I got sicker and sicker until I got to a point where I spent whole days in a dark room, unable to move, unable to listen to music, unable to talk to people and sometimes unable to eat. I barely made it to the bathroom a few steps away. These days were the scariest days. I felt like my body was falling apart more and more every day. Sometimes I worried that I was going to die if it kept going like this.

Luckily things slowly got a little better over the next couple of months. Now my flair up days are often less severe and I can spend my days quite well from the comfort of my bed. I sleep a lot. I have a lot of pain. I am tired all the time. But I occasionally get to go outside. I make my way downstairs to have dinner with my family once a day. I try to shower every week. I chat with my internet friends and find a lot of meaning in making art. I once again can listen to music and podcasts.

At this point in time I am grateful for stabilization and not getting worse. The idea of things getting better feels far away and impossible. Honestly, I don't like to think about the future. I don't like to think too much about what I can't do anymore. I try really hard to make my life meaningful, even though it has become small.

So that's a year of long covid. I guess I do have quite some feelings about it after all.

#long covid #chronic illness

[bunnygirl678]

health whining under the cut

So I had pneumonia back in August where I was in the hospital for 13 days I wrote, 5 times eevee helped green when he was sick +1 time she didn't while i was stuck there, the writing isn't the best compared to what i'm doing now, but i'm whining about being in the hospital in all the notes lol. (I was also on codeine cough syrup for most of the writing process so you know lol)

I just got back from my hematologist (blood doc) last time she saw me i'd been out of the hospital for a couple weeks,

she commented on how different i look, and how much better i sound, which goes to show just how much pneumonia affected me lol. I mean it's been months and I am still kind of recovering.

She did say she thinks I'll be able to do 10ks by this time next year though so that was nice lol.

But she ordered a bone density scan cause i've been on blood thinners for 12 years (holy shit it's been that long since i was 17?!)

like it's very possible that at 29 (a month from 30) i have the beginning stages of osteoporosis.

But i've reached the point at the clinic where the nurses who do blood work know me and we've started chit chatting. Like the one and i gossip about random crap it's so fun.

i have 5 different apts in jan, one of which is to see about getting my tubes tied, which means i'll be in the hospital for a few days

#bunny lore

[cellarfulofnose]

poison headache

The story of Maggie’s Farm comes to life in a series of diary entries from the mid-’60s. Twenty-nothing poet Bob Dylan works on the McCawell farm under the iron fist of Joseph “Pa” McCawell, his pious wife “Ma” Edith, and their harebrained son Willie. Maggie McCawell, the boss’ coarse daughter, seems to have her sights on Bob, but he only has eyes for Joan, a lovely servant girl. 

March 4, 1965

They moved me from the cabin into Danny’s old room. I didn’t ask for it. I didn’t know till today it’s been sitting empty all this time. It was around Christmastime that he went and got married or ran away or something. I’d marry the first girl who passed by if I thought it’d get me out of here. It’s supposed to be sowing season, but the rain’s so bad the fields are mud. I lost both boots in the north field and walked back in my socks. My only hope is that a boot bush’ll spring up in the summer. With my luck they’ll all be two sizes too big. I guess I better start saving newspaper now.

Danny’s room is nothing fancy. There’s a desk by the window and a big wardrobe. It’s small, but it’s better than six guys in five cots and one hammock, rolling over three people every time you toss and turn. They said Danny packed up and left. The room smells like he might’ve died in it. Or something did, anyway. I haven’t had the guts to open the wardrobe.

We can’t plow without compacting the soil, so I’ve been doing inventory. Started two days ago and I haven’t even finished with the cans. There’s walls of them. Pa McCawell is always going on about the Reds and making the servant girls duck and cover. I guess if there really was an atomic blast we’d be all right, food-wise. I wear a can opener clipped to my belt now. Willie said it makes me look like I’m fixing to kill a man, and if I ever try anything funny he’ll be on me like ugly on an ape. Didn’t make me take it off though. I think it scared him pretty good. I lost my knife in a tree when I first got here, so this is the next best thing.

I hope I'm sick. My throat itches and my nose is running, and now this cough won't go away. It comes in spells, I can't breathe for a couple minutes at a time. I hope it's a good old rollicking case of influenza. Or bronchitis or pneumonia or any of your old standards. You start spitting green around here and you get the day off—if you're lucky. I couldn't have been luckier the last time I had a fever. McCawell didn't want to pay the doctor so they gave me to Joan. I talked about her last week and probably a month before that. The half-Mexican kitchen girl. She’s always singing. You hear everybody say that if she’s got breath to sing, she must not be working hard enough, but she gets her work done just as well as anybody else. When I was laid up, she got my fever down and kept me on mullein tea that knocked all the crap right out of my lungs. It was like having Clara Barton nurse you, she was so good, and her black hair parted in the middle.

Joan’s something else. She’s pretty but I don’t know how to describe it. She looks old fashioned, from another time. I got here maybe a year after she did, and I feel we used to know each other before that. Before time. Like we were twin stars, or two little twin girls in the Levant. I think she knows it. She let me pick her guitar once.

Joan got sick too the last time she was taking care of me. I must’ve given it to her. She stopped singing for days, and when she started again, her voice sounded different. I don’t suppose she ever forgave me. If Pa hands me over to her again, I don’t think she’ll be too happy to nurse me, and I don’t blame her. Well, I hope it’s just a little cold or something that’ll go away in a day or two. No sense in bothering her about it.

March 5, 1965

The rain’s stopped. Willie got into a heated debate with Charlie and a couple field hands over the sowing. We’re so behind on planting, he said they better start to plow, but Charlie said they’d never get the tractor out of the mud if they started before it dried out a little. Willie blew his top and climbed up in the tractor himself. It took him fifteen minutes to figure out how to get it moving and all four mules to haul it out of the mud. You never saw his Ma so mad. I heard her tan his hide when they got back to the house, but she didn’t mention the tractor once. She was yelling at him for swearing like a sea dog in front of Maggie and the servant girls. I’ve heard Maggie say worse on a Sunday in Lent.

Willie’s lucky McCawell weren’t home. He left before dawn to make the stock auction in town, otherwise he would have made a jacket out of that boy. Ma is gonna raise hell to Pa when he gets back. Last time Willie got in hot water, he had to advance Danny two weeks' pay to keep him from running and telling McCawell. I guess Charlie gets the payout now, and he'll distribute it as he sees fit. 

I don't care about money if I can't sleep. I was up half the night last night sneezing. I didn't even get a break from the cough. If this is a cold, it's unlike any I ever had. No aches, chills, nothing. Just this feeling like the air’s heavy with dandelion wisps and they're all trying to take root and bloom in my nose. 

There were a couple hours in the middle of the day where it wasn’t too bad. Don’t ask me how I managed to get out of bed, but once I made it through the cans and started inventorying the boxes, I wasn’t sneezing anymore. Better for Joan, I thought, we’d both get off easy. But then right after supper it started again, just as bad as it ever was. I have to pause in my writing just to catch my breath. The cough is ugly but it’s not deep, just stubborn. No point in trying to get a day off out of it. McCawell would say I sounded fine in the house and that he ought to put me to work after supper too, since it seems to cure what’s ailing me.

There’s more to say but I can’t go on writing. This sneezing is taking it out of me. Not much to be done but to sleep it off, though I don’t know how I’ll get to sleep tonight. I was sleeping standing up today, lock-legged, like a horse, from not catching any the night before. I know where Efren keeps the horse pills, if it comes to that. Last time I took those, they woke me up with cold water. Right now that sounds like a vacation. Joan hasn’t noticed how I'm doing, and Ma won’t bless me.

March 6, 1965

It was Ma who called the doctor. Whatever it is, it got bad enough that I came down with a bloody nose. When I started in to sneeze, it wasn't pretty. I was in the barn at the time, so I came in the house looking for something to clean myself up. She saw me with blood all over my face and shirt and about started crying. I must have been coughing then, you couldn't tell her it wasn't consumption. A couple of girls hung around to calm her down. I thought I'd better leave. 

The blood stopped by the time the doctor got here. He took my temperature and listened to my chest and told me I wasn't sick with anything contagious. That meant back to work, but it also meant that Joan was in the clear.  I know it was ridiculous to imagine she might still end up taking care of me. Anyway, it’s better this way.

Then again, who’s to say the doctor knows what he’s talking about? He said “hayfever” and a couple eavesdroppers and I told him it’s not even haying season, and I don’t have any problem when it is. But his advice was that it must be environmental, so I should try and fix my environment. He said to change my bedding to get rid of the built-up dust, then I should stick my head in a steam bath and see if that helps. He’d been anticipating TB, so he didn’t have anything for me to take. Pa said in that case he wasn’t paying. I left when they started arguing, to go strip the bed in Danny’s room.

It was dusty all right. Set me off again pretty good. I gave up halfway through—I didn’t want my nose to start bleeding again. I got the window partway open, and I was just sitting on the half-empty bed when Maggie came in. She heard I wasn’t feeling good and wanted to come see how I was doing. I took out my harmonica because I didn’t want to talk to her. But between the coughs and sneezes, I had to give it up. It’s not that Maggie isn’t a great girl. She’s got a head full of bouncy red curls and freckles all over her body, and she wears tied-off shirts and denim shorts to prove it. I think it’s her eyes that put me off. They’re so big and round and she lines them black. She looks like an owl. Cute, I guess, but I wouldn’t be alone with her in the same room if I could help it.

Maggie said the room smelled like a swamp. That’s one good thing about all this; I can’t smell anymore, so it doesn’t bother me. She got real friendly when I told her that, saying she knew how to clear my head. Maggie likes to fixate on how all the functions of the body are linked to orgasm. She once told me an orgasm is equivalent to eight sneezes. I don’t know how she figured that, but I’d be a lot happier and a lot looser by now if she’d been telling the truth.

She didn’t try to take my pants off. She seemed to want to do it with them on. I told her if she really wanted to help me she’d boil me a pot of water and get me a towel to trap the steam. Most of the guys wish they could lay Maggie, but they’re terrified of incurring McCawell’s wrath. Some of them she flirts with just to piss her daddy off. He threatened Efren with a 12-gauge and now no one wants to look at her. It’s not McCawell I’m scared of. Something about Maggie tells me she’s not satisfied until she sees the white of bone.

I touched her up till she came, the fastest I’ve ever seen her do it. It seemed easier than trying to talk her out of it. Maggie’s not a bad girl. She’s just stuck here like the rest of us, and sex starved. It can’t be good for a girl her age. Once she calmed down, she said Pa had agreed to pay the doctor but he was taking it out of my check. She promised she’d get him to change his mind. I kept telling her she didn’t have to, but she gave me one of her nice handkerchiefs as collateral, with the little MM stitched on the border. I sneezed fresh blood into it within minutes of her leaving. Pa and Maggie and the doctor were all arguing in the kitchen, so I couldn’t boil water for a steam bath, and the bed was still unmade. I ended up just going to the shed for the horse stuff. Taking half a tablet doesn’t knock me out, and they last longer that way besides.

March 8, 1965

A lot has happened so I’ll try to tell the short version.

Danny’s room is growing mold. It’s more mold than room. I don’t know how it didn’t collapse on me. On Sunday I was picking at the wallpaper and a section of it crumbled away. The wall was black. I thought it was ants. Suddenly I couldn’t breathe. I ran outside and coughed until I lost my breakfast. It was Sunday, so we couldn’t get the doctor, but he couldn’t have told me anything I didn’t know by then. It was the mold that was making me sick. The dust couldn’t have helped either.

Pa won’t get the room repaired. I wasn’t even the one to tell him about the mold. It must have been Maggie or one of the girls. Still, he wouldn’t swallow it. I found out Maggie volunteered to let me stay in her room until they fix Danny’s. Now whenever Pa looks at me he gets all red with fury and can’t speak. I don’t hold it against her. He’d only take it out of my check, anyways.

Willie jumped out of his skin when he saw me. Somehow the news had warped as it traveled, and he’d heard I was dead. I didn’t have any evidence to the contrary, so I let him be.

The real mess happened after I got a few doses of horse pills down. I went to go sleep in the loft when I ran into Joan. She was stealing some wine and said half was mine if I wouldn’t tell. I’d never say no, but horse stuff and booze are like fire and gasoline. We drank the whole jug. I got sloppy. I remember I wanted to kiss her—I don’t know if I did it. I told her I was in love with her and she started crying, saying Maggie was gonna fire her when she found out. She’s jealous that way. I told her again and again I wouldn’t let that happen. Joan kissed my head, and when I woke up it was dark. I waited until dawn, then I marched into the house and told McCawell I quit. He laughed and kept on eating. Even Maggie didn’t say anything. 

I slept in the loft last night, and I haven’t been back in Danny’s room but for a minute to grab a few things. Already, it feels like it’s getting better. I only sneezed once after I woke up this morning. Mostly no cough either. There’s a weird sort of pounding feeling behind my eyes any time that I do cough. Could be nothing, I never know. I was out in the rain a lot yesterday before I ripped up the wallpaper; maybe that’s got something to do with it.

This is my second night sleeping in the loft. It’s supposed to rain again tomorrow. No one knows when it’ll end. Danny’s room is empty again and it looks like it’ll stay that way, but I found another jug of wine squirreled away up here in the hay. Whatever’s coming, I might not end up weathering it alone.

#title is from pledging my time

[cuckoo-among-beasts]

HC: Anecdotes from Huaisang's Early Childhood

(in no specific order)

Huaisang was born too early and needed a lot of external heat to remain warm, so his father often tucked the bundled up baby inside his robes, keeping him close to his own body behind layers of robes. One person snickered once at the odd bump by Nie- zongzhu's chest. Of course, he handed him to someone else if needed to train or do something that could be dangerous.

When he was learning to crawl, he was a butt shuffler by the way, he somehow managed to get his way all from the living quarters and out into the training grounds where his brother and father were. How he managed to get all that way on his own, shuffling on his butt, no one knows. His little bottom was rather red and sore though.

There's still several wall doodles in the Unclean Realm made by a small Huaisang. Birds, horses, flowers, his family. A bit of this and that. At first they cleaned up the doodles as much as they could, but eventually they gave up. Huaisang was too quick in making new ones.

At the age of three, he found a basket with ripe plums and ate them all. I don't think I need to tell that he got pretty sick from it. His stomach definitely didn't agree with all those plums and caused issues for a couple of days. Even as an adult, he struggles to eat plums due to this incident.

Huaisang got an early taste for wine when he as a four year old downed a cup by mistake. A drunk small Huaisang was a giggly pain and may or may not have given his poor father his first white strand of hair. It also taught his dad to not leave any drink unsupervised for any amount of time.

The year he turned five was a horrible year for Huaisang. He managed to catch pneumonia and nearly died. It took months, and a trip to Cloud Recesses, before he was fully well again and even then, it took nearly a year before he stopped getting tired more easily. If he hadn't been doted on before, he certainly got now.

At six, he got his first wooden practice saber and he actually liked it at first because he could be like da-ge and a-die.

#headcanon #v: childhood

[aajjks]

TC!dad!JK

it’s a cold day in goryeo, corea and the kingdom has received the first born prince of king jungkook and queen y/n; a healthy baby boy by the name of jinseoul. the kingdom celebrated and welcomed the baby boy with open arms and returned some color into your life. ever since your baby boy was born you’ve been stuck to him like glue, not really paying attention to your husband as much.

however, jungkook was okay with that. he too was overly attached to his first born but not as much as you. sometimes you wouldn’t let him hold the small infant and you had the strong urge to protect your baby from any harm. you’d die for your precious jinseoul. he was all the happiness you had left and you’d be DAMNED if something happened to him.

eventually, you stopped hogging the sweet baby all to yourself and allowed jungkook to hold him and it shocked you just how good of a father he is despite his own father treating him like shit.

jungkook was caring, loving, and nurturing with his son. when he rolled over for the first time, he was in tears. when he first crawled, he cried again, and when he started walking? he was DEVASTATED. he just loved his son so much.

you both spent so much time with jinseoul and it made you two grow closer. a lot closer than usual. you both got along very well and acted like a normal married couple.

until you were bombarded with jinseoul being sick.

see, a baby’s immune system is much weaker than that of an adult, so when he got sick, it worried you. he had fevers back to back, he would throw up food, cry a lot, and had a bad cough.

when you took him to the physician, turns out he had pneumonia. when the doctor told you this, you nearly had a heart attack.

you blamed yourself a lot and cried almost everyday about it. the physician instructed the both of you to keep him in a room and give him meditation that would help him get better, which it did.

your son was getting better day by day but you noticed jungkook would sweat in his sleep, he had a bad cough, and his body was hot as fire. although he told you plenty of times that he was okay, you FORCED him to see a physician and guess what?

he caught influenza, better known as the flu. so NOW you were taking care of both of your boys. giving them medicine, doing your duties, and pretty much scolding jungkook every 5 seconds to stay in bed.

you were stressed and jungkook could see that. he knew once he got better he’d make it up to you somehow.

after finally giving your 9 month old son medicine and rocking him to sleep you rush to your husband who is stubbornly not taking his medicine because “it’s disgusting” and “he’s fine.”

“koo” you whine “please just take the medicine. i know it’s gross but it’ll help you feel better” you say, trying to coax him into drinking the nasty liquid.

he really does hate it and is convinced he’ll be fine without it. despite his obvious stuffed nose and subtle sniffles.

“ughh, why are you being stubborn? just take it” you say irritably while shoving the spoon in his face but he turns his head.

you’re really gonna have to force him, huh?

~🫧 sorry it’s so long lol 😂 but it’s cute!!

Jungkook rolls his eyes, sniffing.

“No yn. I won’t.. please don’t force me.” He whines, “where is my son anyways?” He asks you, looking at you with a tired smile.

“He’s getting better right?” He’s trying his best to distract you, he loves his son a lot, and yes he’s concerned about him but right now. You’re hovering over his head.

With that disgusting herb soup in your hand.

“YN I S-SAID- *achoo* NO.” He looks at you with a glare and you sigh, you put the soup on his bed and climb on top of him, taking him by surprise and he gasps in disbelief.

“W-What are you doing??! NO.”

#ask: tc!jungkook

[phoenixonwheels]

Dying to own the libs

You won’t catch Robert wearing a mask.

And he’s not getting vaccinated either. Good news Robert! In six months you’ll no longer have to do anything!

Fuck the young, the old, the immunocompromised and the people who have to work and can’t homeschool their kids - Robert’s that sure he’s not the one that’s going to be dying.

So you’re definitely not going to be clogging up a hospital bed when you inevitably get Covid, right Robert?

Don’t worry folks, he’s sure it’s not “the Rona.”

Gee I wonder what else he was wrong about. 🤔

I’m sorry he’s where?!? So all the “When it’s your time” bullshit he was spouting three weeks ago was just hot air? Of course it was you raging hypocrites. 🙄

Whoops there it is. Bye Robert!

[ID: Facebook posts by Robert Huston: 22 Apr 2021: “How to properly use your mask. 🤣🤣” A hand wiping an oil dipstick with a surgical mask. 22 May 2021: “Just read an article If you’re Vaccinated, you’ll need a booster every 6-12 months. Fuck NO” 29 June 2021: “If you don’t like mask mandates coming to an end, then keep your mask on. If you don’t like schools opening back up, then homeschool your kids. If you don’t like restaurants operating at 100% capacity, then eat at home. You do you and I’ll do me. That’s how it works in America.”21 Aug 2021: “When the Lord is ready for you to leave this world there isn’t a mask or amount of hand sanitizer that will save you!” “Amen” 30 Aug 2021: “I am humbled at the outpouring of support from so many friends. I had the Rona test done. Should know something in the next couple of days. I am feeling better now and starting to get my strength back. I don’t think I had it. Just some sort of flu bug. Folks still get sick, without getting the Rona.” 30 Aug 2021: “Test results back. I’m positive 😳☹️” 13 Sep 2021: “Hi everyone, this is Michelle Huston, Rob's wifey. I am deeply saddened that my baby has been hospitalized with covid pneumonia as of 8/31/21. As many of you are aware he was placed on the ventilator Saturday morning 9/11.” 4 Oct 2021: “It is with tremendous sorrow that I inform you all of Robert's passing at 1501 this afternoon. (3:01pm).” 8 Oct 2021: A photo of an urn inscribed with Robert Lee Huston, June 16, 1964 - October 4, 2021.”]

#covid 19 #coronavirus #dying to own the libs #fucked around and found out #fafo #karma is a bitch #antivaxxer #antimasker

[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Common Cold

@sicktember 2022 Prompt #22

Fandom/OCs: Hannibal TV

Title: Give A Little Bit

Words: 886

Inspiration: None

Author’s comments: Set after the events of the series of course. Both of my Hannibal fics this year take place in the same post-canon AU, where they live out the rest of their days as an eccentric married couple in the middle of nowhere. No plot, nothing serious, just a cuddly little cottagecore sickfic featuring everyone’s favorite murder hubands. 

Will and Hannibal rarely left the house during the winter months in this isolated, northern place they had called home for years now. They would never be discovered here by anyone that was hunting them, and in the end that was all that mattered. Between books, music, the surrounding wildness, and each other, they never wanted for entertainment and never felt lacking in the way of company.  

Still, they needed to go into town occasionally for supplies, and that meant contact with at least a few people. The locals knew them as strange, solitary, polite men who came and went quietly and were only seen every few months at most. There was no threat to the couple in town, only inconvenience, and the months of icy wind and snow were the most inconvenient of all. Hannibal had made the last supply run, and had come home with an unexpected item: he had picked up a nasty cold at the grocery store, the first he'd had in years. 

It really was only a cold, as he kept reassuring Will, but Will continued to worry regardless. Hannibal was no spring chicken, and it was clear this virus was taking more of a toll on him than he wanted to let on. Each sneeze was an exhausting, full-body production. Each cough seemed to rip its rattling way out of his chest with a vengeance. He sounded on the verge of pneumonia within a few days, and Will didn't know what to do. 

The most Hannibal could manage through much of the day was sitting in his chair close to the fire and reading or napping, a hectic flush covering his cheeks while he shivered under a quilt. He couldn't even stand long enough to cook without getting lightheaded and faint from coughing. 

Will, of course, was Hannibal's devoted nurse. He hardly let the sick man lift a finger and made sure he was well covered, resting, and supplied with a hot beverage at all times. Hannibal squeezing his hand or giving him a grateful smile helped sustain Will through those troubling days. Still, Will continued to fret, but Hannibal wouldn't let him pester, and tried to keep him from worrying. 

"It's just a common cold, Will," Hannibal said on the fourth day of his illness when he continued to get worse, not better. "There's no reason to treat me like an invalid." His weak, hoarse voice was far from convincing, as was the barking cough that followed.

"Maybe, but you're the most uncommon person I've ever met," Will replied from where he was kneeling beside the doctor, arranging his medicines. "Nothing is ever routine with you, and apparently your colds are no different. A cold shouldn't come with a fever, but your temperature has been rising since yesterday." 

Hannibal attempted a smile, which to Will only accentuated the dark, haggard circles under his eyes and the visible fatigue in those same eyes. "What's uncommon for some is common for others. I am prone to fevers with every sort of illness and have been since I was a boy." A whole body shudder overcame him just then, proving both their points. Hannibal had been shivering for days now, even before his temperature began to creep up and despite the roaring blaze Will kept in the fireplace at all times. However, he refused to stay in bed and rest properly despite Will urging him to do so several times a day. He didn't want to feel invalid anymore than he already did.

With a little sigh, Will pressed a gentle hand to the older man's forehead, almost as if in afterthought. Hannibal quietly allowed this, leaning his face into the cool hand for only a moment, closing his eyes in relief at the respite. Will scrutinized him thoughtfully, fondly. 

"We're going to bed early tonight. Both of us," Will said at last, standing and stretching. 

"That's not–"

"Yes, it is. You need to rest, but you won't go on your own, so that means I have to go with you. I'm exhausted too, you know, doing both of our chores and chopping all the extra wood. I will be going to bed right after supper as I said, and I'll stay in bed as long as you need tomorrow. You can't very well be out here by yourself right now, with no one to stoke the fire or run around the house and yard. You have no choice but to stay with me."

"Will, I don't–"

"Please. You have to give somewhere. Even just a little. We need to keep you away from doctors and hospitals. For both our sakes. And right now, that's looking less and less likely. The only chance you have at getting better is resting. If that means I get to rest with you, then so be it. I'll certainly keep you warm at the very least."

Hannibal mulled this over, while Will looked at him imploringly. Hannibal started to answer, but seemed to change his mind.

"Please. Give just a little. For me," Will murmured. 

Hannibal sighed, sniffling. "Alright. As you wish," he said quietly. "I'll go to bed early tonight and remain there tomorrow. As long as you'll join me."

"You have my word," Will said quietly, unable to keep the smile from his eyes. 

#sicktember 2022 #prompt 22 #hannibal tv #everyone is hotter with a fever #sickfic

[l-boogielicious]

I haven't posted in a long time and a lot has happened

You may already know that my mother, Elizabeth Landman, passed away on January 23, 2023. Although she was 87, it was unexpected. My mom as an active, dynamic person who never slowed down or stopped unless she had no choice. She had a cough for a couple of months, but it didn't stop her from traveling, spending the holidays with family on the East Coast or going on her long-planned meditation retreat in western Massachusetts.

On New Year's day my sister, Roz, got a call from the retreat center that my mother was really sick and needed to get care. She picked mom up and took her to the ER. Mom was admitted to the CCU with pneumonia but she improved and was moved to the regular hospital within a week. We were hopeful that she would make a good recovery. However, the day after my beloved Lucious died in my arms I got a call from my sister, Celia, to come back to Massachusetts immediately. Mom might go at any time. I flew out the next day and spent eight days by her side. All of my five other siblings came to help and we took turns caring for her in the hospital: holding her hand, adjusting her pillows, reading to her aloud, wiping her forehead with cool cloths, feeding her and, at times, helping her breathe.

Her chest x-rays showed improvement but she was declining in front of us and no one knew why. Finally I had to go back to California. Two days after I returned, my mother died. I am grateful that she was able to have all six of her children with her at the end. I know that's all she really wanted.

I am most grateful that I experienced my mother as I never had before. Many of you know that our relationship was difficult but those eight days allowed me to know a mother who didn't put up defenses and who only showed me love. Because of that I was able to feel a love for her that I never knew I had. It was both beautiful and tragic.

I have been mourning my mother, especially because she had just begun a new chapter in her life. As sad as it is, at 87 years of age she was really just starting to live the life she wanted. I am also grieving the relationship that I could have had with her. How different my life would have been if it had been safe for me to love her. How much love there was that we never acknowledged until the very end. It's all so complicated.

Here are some pictures of her - from the young actress in NYC to the mother I knew at the Cape, our family home in Lexington, MA, Fenway Park and on Mt. Tam.

I have many, many photos from the past month in Palm Springs and now San Diego that I will post soon.

#grief/mourning #fenway park #mount tamalpais #lexington #mother/daughter relationship