Pixie forgot that Pixie have no memory of yesterday , of therapist appointment or anything after .
Pixie just have really really really hard time today not have any idea why . Completely forgot even going to appointment yesterday .
Pixie not ask . Not … actually want know .
Probably not want know .
Probably guardians would tell if Pixie was okay to know …
That , keeping secrets about Pixie from Pixie . Is huge unbelievably upsetting , unacceptable thing Pixie have absolutely no tolerance for . Except . Is not any of that for guardians . Is not actually bad . Not break trust . Pixie … okay . To not know what guardians know .
Pixie not understand . How is possible . But . It is . Probably only from guardians and therapist .
Whumpee gasped awake in bed, clutching his chest, sweat dripping from every pore. He scrambled off the bed, legs getting caught in the duvet and hit the floor with a heavy thump as he tried to get his breaths under control again.
“Whumpee?”
No, no, no. Friend couldn’t be here, they couldn’t! Whumper would find them and make them do all those— oh god the blood… Whumpee didn’t— he couldn’t stop himself he— oh god he was going to be sick.
“Whumpee!” A hand grabbed Whumpee’s wet shoulder and a face appeared in front of them, the night clinging to it like a veil. “Whumpee! Look at me, hey!”
Whumpee found Friend’s concerned eyes and his stomach dropped. Whumpee was covered in blood, and Friend was touching him. He didn’t want to stain Friend with the blood.
“Whumpee! It was just a nightmare, snap out of it. You’re safe. You’re in the Academy. You’re okay.”
No. No. No.
“Look,” Friend insisted, grabbing the front of their pyjama top. Wait… pyjama top? Why was Friend wearing pyjamas to battle? He would die— they… he should be…
Whumpee’s brain faltered, stumbled and he crashed down from dreaming to wakefulness. His breaths slowed as he looked at Friend’s shirt, focusing on the plainness of it. The perfect, clean white they always slept in. “That’s it. You’re safe.”
Whumpee took a few more deep breaths and nodded, embarrassment flooding him now as he put his head in his hands. His skin was wet with sweat and he grimaced.
“‘m sorry,” he mumbled as he rubbed his eye with his palm. His heart continued to beat a little faster than usual but he was okay, he was back on earth. Not with Whumper. Not committing atrocities to innocent people.
Friend chuckled. “Don’t be sorry, mate,” he said kindly, taking his hand off Whumpee’s shoulder and rubbing the sweat down his shirt. “You can’t help it.”
Whumpee sighed as Friend sat back onto his arse, looking at Whumpee with sympathetic eyes.
“Was it Whumper again?”
Whumpee nodded, loosing a breath through his mouth as the memory of the nightmare flooded back. A burning village, people screaming, and Whumpee at Whumper’s side, being praised for slaughtering so efficiently. Whumpee remembers being happy at the praise, and he wanted to be sick all over again.
“Yeah,” he croaked, his voice coming out weaker than he’d like. “It was him. Same one as always.”
“Whumpee… you know they’re just dreams, right?”
Whumpee didn’t answer. He didn’t want to look at Friend right now after all those— he swallowed, hands trembling before he curled his fingers into fists. If they’re just dreams, why did it feel so real? Why was every village he terrorise with Whumper different every time?
“Whumps, I’m serious. You would never do anything like that. You’re just overtired from training, and the briefs of Whumper’s raids get into your head and you dream you’re there. That’s all. It’s not— you’re not a bad person.”
Shivers wracked through Whumpee’s body as he nodded. “Yeah… yeah, I know, Friend. Thanks. Sorry for waking you again.”
He pushed himself to all fours, grabbing the edge of his bed frame before pushing himself to standing on wobbly legs.
“This is the third time this week, Whumps,” Friend said quietly, rubbing the nape of his neck. “They’re getting more frequent. I’m worried about you. I think we should tell—”
“N-no, don’t be daft, Friend.” Whumpee wrapped his arms around himself, grimacing at how wet the sweat clinging to his skin was. How disgusting he felt… but at least it wasn’t the ash and the smoke, or the blood in his dreams. “I’m fine. I promise.”
Friend’s mouth twisted, not convinced, but he didn’t even push the matter further.
“I b-bet- better change,” Whumpee added, teeth chattering. “And dry myself off. I’m okay, really. Go back to bed.”
Friend got to his feet as well, brows pinched with concern. “Okay. You’re sure you’re—”
“Of course,” Whumpee cut in, waving his concern away. “I’m good. Just freezing.”
Friend’s lips thinned. The darkness painting him in shades of pale blue and greys and black, like a disapproving portrait.
“Okay.”
Whumpee padded into their shared ensuite bathroom and closed the door. He pressed his head against the cool wood and took a breath.
It’s not real, Whumpee, he told himself. Friend’s right. It’s just your imagination. The briefs. Your subconscious.
But not everybody felt guilty about the briefs. Not everyone woke with night terrors like they lived the attacks on the villages; like it was the second time they heard about the massacres.
That thought stuck with him as Whumpee peeled his sopping clothes from his body and quickly rinsed his body in the shower.
***
One moment Whumpee was with Friend, sparring to work off some excess energy. It was a good idea, Friend’s idea, to tire his body so his mind quieted while he slept. So he was about to deal the next point against Friend, when his surroundings changed.
It happened within a blink.
The sparring grounds were replaced with the crackling of flames and blood curdling screams of grief stricken relatives. Whumpee jolted, stumbling back a step.
A warm, familiar hand clamped down on his shoulder stopping him. Whumpee froze. He knew that hand; recognised it.
Whumper.
Whumpee turned his head slowly to glance up at the hand’s owner and beside him, beaming down at him, was Whumper. His mouth stretched into a handsome grin that sent chills down Whumpee’s spine.
This is a nightmare.
The thought stole his breath from his lungs and Whumpee ducked away from Whumper’s hand, stumbling back and falling onto his arse.
Whumper tilted his head as he turned to Whumpee. “What’s wrong, Whumps? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Whumpee swallowed a whimper as he scrambled backwards. He had to wake up. Just wake up, Whumpee. Wake up.
He pinched his skin as Whumper approached, but nothing.
Whumper stepped even closer.
Whumpee slapped himself.
Another step and Whumpee grew frantic.
He went to bite down on his hand, that’ll wake him up, but Whumper caught his wrist before Whumpee could clamp his jaws around his thumb.
Whumpee stared frozen into two midnight blue eyes, his entire body trembling. Get off me, he wanted to say, but his voice box wouldn’t co-operate, his body froze like the eyes were an arctic tundra.
“Why are you hurting yourself?” he asked, genuinely puzzled. The midnight gaze roamed over Whumpee’s face, noting the reaction of his body, the stiffness of fear, the deer in headlights expression. When Whumper found Whumpee’s eyes again, recognition settled over his features. “Ah. I see. You’re awake, aren’t you? Well that just won’t do.”
Whumpee longed to swallow the lump in his throat. He wanted to scream at Whumper, to demand what the hell “awake” meant, but nothing.
Whumper nodded at someone behind Whumpee and footsteps crunched down a foothill. The smoke clogged Whumpee’s nostrils, filling his lungs. This was the man they were trying to stop, trying to destroy— this was the man who was terrorising innocents and Whumpee vowed he would stop him. He would be the one to stop him.
Now, faced with the villain, he froze.
Wait, footsteps?
That kicked Whumpee into his training. He lifted his leg and planted his boot on Whumper’s chest. Whumper tsked and batted Whumpee’s leg away before he yanked Whumpee closer, crossing his arms over his chest in an X. His resistance dominated so rapidly that he was embarrassed to have tried fight at all.
“Shh, shh. It’s okay. It will all be a bad dream,” Whumper cooed.
“Get off of me!” Whumpee demanded, bucking his hips after every word, but he might as well have been struggling against a wall. Whumper wasn’t moving. He held Whumpee so tightly — yet gentle enough to leave no bruises — that Whumpee may as well have not struggled for the lot of good it did him.
A voice hummed behind Whumpee. “He shouldn’t have. I made sure to double lock it between dreams and reality.”
Whumper smiled. His eyes flashed to Whumpee’s terror filled gaze, oozing pride, before looking at the person behind Whumpee.
“I told you he was naturally talented,” Whumper replied. “I just need you to make sure this one sticks a little longer.”
“No!” Whumpee cried, struggling hard against Whumper’s hold. “NO! Don’t touch me! GET OFF!”
“Shh, Whumps. I know you’re confused right now, but I only need you to like this for another while. Soon, we will be reunited and I’ll explain everything.”
One of Whumper’s men crouched behind Whumpee’s head, magic glowing on their fingertips. Whumpee’s brain cut short at that.
“No! No, nonono! Whumper! No! Please!” His screams and pleas sounded childish, joining the cacophony of screaming. “Don’t do this, please!”
“I’m sorry.”
Fingers touched Whumpee’s temples and —
He woke screaming.
***
General Tag-list (lmk if you wanna be added/removed) : @sunflower1000 @anxious-mess19 @scoundrelwithboba @distinguished-ruler @whumplicity @afternoonfairy
Help me find this fic please! My phone died before I can finish it.
So at first it was Caleb lost his memories and forgot about non-mc a.k.a his wife. He only remember that he was mc boyfriend and keep denying a fact that him and non-mc was husband and wife.
So when mc looking after him at hospital, he’s really happy and keep mumbling like there’s no way he chose someone other than mc, and non-mc was there. Oh, mc here was a bad person, she’s trying to get Caleb back and her position here was his ex.
And I don’t know for the rest or author name, like what I said my phone died before I could finished it! Please yall help me find it
