#Are there moments when he wakes up from nightmares? Has he flashbacks whenever someone hands him a phaser?

[theborgqueen2]

I wonder how many people Chakotay has killed. I mostly view him as the calm, gentle one compared to Kathryn "Give me a phaser rifle and I'll solve any problem" Janeway but between the two of them, chakotay probably has more blood on his hands - more experience in one on one violence. That guy used to he a high ranked officer in a terrorist organization after all.

[lemon-koii]

•|Sad TWST headcanons

𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒃𝒚𝒖𝒍

𝑅𝑖𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑅𝑜𝑠𝑒ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠

If his mother calls him before or during eating a strawberry tart, he'd have a hard time finishing his tart after their conversation even if it has no relate to it. He would clutch his hands and just stare at his strawberry tart for a few minutes and eat it slowly. Still remembering the first day he tasted a tart, but not a good way

𝑇𝑟𝑒𝑦 𝐶𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟

Doesn't like it when people yell at him when mad as it reminds him when Riddles' mom yelled at him and his family for 3 hours straight. Although, he wouldn't react much if you yelled at him, but he will definetly hold a grudge

𝐷𝑒𝑢𝑐𝑒 𝑆𝑝𝑎𝑑𝑒

After Riddles' overblot, he'd not only get nightmares about it, he'd also get nightmares of Cater getting impaled with a spear from Riddle. In some dreams, Cater died, right infront of him and his roommates would have to wake him up. He pleaded them to not tell Cater but one of them slipped(It wasn't Ace. I refuse to believe he's THAT much of a jerk and clumsy)

𝐶𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐷𝑖𝑎𝑚𝑜𝑛𝑑

Whenever his sister would call him, he'd just stare at it ringing. He doesn't want to talk to them but he also don't have the heart to reject it. Sadly, he can only do this when he's alone since people will point. But when he gets close to the prefect, he'd ignore the ringing and tell you to do the same. Just don't pester him and point at it more than 3 times

Comforts Deuce in a non-obvious way whenever his roommates accidentaly told him that Deuce had nightmares about his impalement

𝑅𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑒 𝐵𝑢𝑐𝑐ℎ𝑖

Tons of bite and scratch scars from his childhood due to fighting over food with another group of hyenas. As a male hyena, he's pretty tall in their book so he's the one to mostly go out to hunt and fight for food

Sometimes has to give up his food to female hyenas

𝐾𝑎𝑙𝑖𝑚 𝐴𝑙-𝐴𝑠𝑖𝑚

On the outside it looks like he trusts his siblings a lot but deep down he doesn't. He loves and trusts his baby siblings but once they reach the age of learning about the hierarchy, he'll start to doubt them but won't show it. So when they do end up trying to kill him, he'll be heartbroken but not surprised

𝐽𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙 𝑉𝑖𝑝𝑒𝑟

He was 14 years old when he first killed someone to protect Kalim. One of the most traumatic event in his life but as he got older, it bothered him less and less. When he looks back at his first kill, he'll cringe. Thinking, "God why did I cry and puke that time? I should've expected it"

𝑂𝑟𝑡ℎ𝑜 𝑆ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑑

Somehow got a hold of a file full of old pictures and videos of H!Ortho and when he has nothing to do, he'd watch it privately. Observing how past Ortho acted and will try to recreate does actions.(It gives Idia tons of flashbacks)

𝐿𝑖𝑙𝑖𝑎 𝑉𝑎𝑛𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔𝑒

Back when Silver wad a kid, he'd give Lilia every egg he found during Easter. But the moment Lilias' eyes spotted a black egg with bright green designs on it, he'd go quite and just stare at it. Remembering Meleanor and egg Malleus

𝑭𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔

After overblots, they really want to vent to their parents but they can't. Crowley pressured them to not tell anyone or their grades and the schools reputation will be at risk

[sociopathicartist]

Redamancy - The act of loving in return

(PART 3 OF THE SERIES APRICITY)

DUST/MURDER SANS X READER

Dust would never tell anyone, but sometimes whenever he laughed with you and watched as the corners of your eyes crinkled and your soft lips curled into the smile he loved, he felt sad.

Why did he feel sad? There were many tragedies about his life, but you smiling was not one of them.

He would watch as you looked for him every time you entered a room, and he saw your face light up whenever you noticed him lurking.

Why did he feel almost… Guilty?

Maybe the times when your hands gently traced around his shoulders as you fixed the hood to his jacket gave him a weird remembrance of a time when he was loved.

He used to be someone. Something.

Or maybe it was how you trusted him so openly despite knowing every horrible thing he’s done. Maybe that made him feel sad. He didn’t want to hurt you, to use you. He wasn’t, but some part of him was scared that he would end up doing so.

It was hard to be able to trust himself on these things. There was a time when he would never even be able to fathom killing his brother, let alone the entire underground population, but here he was now, a murderer.

A monster.

Despite everything, the horrible flashbacks he had, the weird sad feeling he had whenever he saw you, despite it all, some part of him told him that it would be okay. At least it would be okay in the moments where he got to trace his phalanges through your hair while you sat in front of him, happily watching the movie that you’d put on the TV.

Fuck, it would be over for both of you if anyone figured out how many kisses you’d stolen from each other in secret. If anyone found out how deeply he longed to be entangled with you as you whispered to him that it was alright, that nothing bad had happened to him yet and he would wake up tomorrow and it would all be okay.

Whenever he was loved.

Whenever he was someone’s brother. Whenever his home felt like home.

He didn’t have enough time with you. Maybe the guilty and sad feeling came from knowing that he couldn’t do this forever with you. You would die. Or he would die. Or you two would fight so bad that everything you’d both worked for would be over like that- gone and as the two of you had never held each other.

One day it would happen. One day one of you will end up alone- whatever the circumstances are.

Was it selfish of him to wish that if anything happened, he was the one who died? That the memory of him in your mind stayed warm and fond, and that he didn’t have to go on living without you?

Whenever it happens one day, his scattered dust will still have visions of you. In the impossible world where he has become beyond living, and he is now gone into another life, his soul will still call for your name every night. Your beautiful face will still be housed in every corner of his mind, and as his life dissipates into the void, he knows that the sick, gross, and humiliating feeling of pure want and need for you will never go away as long as the multiverse still has your hands in it.

Whenever he wandered along Snowdin, broken, dusty, and despised.

Maybe it was how you hugged him tightly as you cried, wanting to get out of the castle and wanting a better life for the both of you. Maybe that’s what gave him the sad feeling.

Amongst the many other things he would never tell you- one of them was how scared he was. He got along so well with you and it was horrifying. Everything he had come to know with you could be ripped from his life. All of the nights you spent with him laughing and talking about another life together, or talking about your day- or just anything. All of the times he had brushed your hair for you when you felt too weak and you were too demotivated to even bring yourself to view your face in the mirror. All the times he had convinced Nightmare to let you come along with him and the other two skeletons on a mission- just so that you could have fun in the city and stay in the cozy hotel beds while he went out with Horror and Killer on a life-threatening mission.

It could be ripped from him in a moment.

And one day- it would be.

But sometimes on the nights when he didn’t get to sneak across the castle so that he could lay with you for just a few moments longer, he’d find himself in the garden looking up at the stars and wondering about another world where the two of you could be together fully.

He dreamed of being able to take you out on dates like he wanted and getting to watch you as you got ready for the day. He wanted so bad- so inhumanely, disgustingly, painfully bad to be able to wake up with you in the mornings and brush some hair out of your face as he admired you.

You were just breathtaking- fucking- he couldn’t even put the right words on it. His expansive vocabulary was suddenly drained as his mind went numb with nothing but the mere thought of you. Did you know that he watched you as you laughed and that he thought you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen? Did he ever tell you that?

It was so easy for him to think about the times when he would lay on the floor at night in his room while Papyrus slept soundly, wondering why his life had turned out like this and why he had no motivation to do anything anymore. You knew he was a horrible person, and he had told you of the awful things he’d done, and yet you loved him still.

Did he ever tell you that there was a time when he laughed with his friends, and nothing had changed yet? Had he told you about the good parts of his life that made what he had to do so much worse?

Will there ever be a time when you are no longer such a large part of him? It was insane to think that there was once a time when he didn’t even know you existed- and worse- a time when he didn’t even care if you were dead. Will he ever be able to take the stuffed animal off his bed that he only likes because you got it for him?

Whenever he had nothing.

He prayed to nonexistent gods throughout the multiverse that there would be a time when he doesn’t feel like the best thing he can do for you is stay away from you for the rest of your life. All he’s doing is making it harder for you whenever he dies.

Obviously, he will die. Come on, there’s no way he can keep doing this for the next five hundred years. He keeps waiting for the day that someone will nick him just right despite all of his fighting, and he will be gone for good this time.

He hoped that once he’s gone, you’re able to laugh with someone else as you laugh with him. That you can watch the same movies with someone else that you’ve watched with him. That you still love him, but you’re at peace without him, and you’re happy.

Is it selfish of him to want to listen to your heartbeat every night as he falls asleep?

Will there be a day when you no longer wake up with things to tell him? Whenever he’s dead and gone, will you be able to wake up in the mornings and not wish that he was there?

When he’s gone, will you notice?

Some selfish part of him hopes that he’ll always have a place in your heart.

Maybe he gets sad whenever he watches you struggle in his favorite video game that he’s trying to teach you how to play. You keep messing up on the same level, and you’re grinning at him as you’re asking how in the world he’s able to beat it.

You’re his best friend. His lover. He hopes that you never learn how to beat his favorite game so that he can keep teaching you how to play it forever.

Maybe the sad feeling comes from the little warm feeling in his ribcage that he gets whenever he watches you walk away, and he’s already missing you.

Maybe it’s because as he listens to you talk with him, and time slows while he stares at you and takes in everything about you, he realizes that he’s viewing every moment with you like it’s already happened. There will be a time when he won't get to experience this again, and he won't get to feel your soft hands cup his face and be told that you love him no matter what.

Whenever he was loved.

Whenever he was someone’s brother. Someone’s friend.

Whenever he looked at home and smiled.

Whenever the life that he had known started to become cruel, his world crumbled.

Whenever he wandered along Snowdin dusty, broken, and despised.

Whenever he had nothing.

Whenever he was nothing.

Can some part of him still believe that despite everything, your hands will reach out to him, hold him, and remind him of a time when he was loved?

[lord-radish]

I just reblogged a post about PTSD, and it gave a lot of examples of PTSD criteria that are often overlooked that really resonated with me.

I'm gonna go over the former best friend stuff. Right away I'm gonna say I'm pretty sure things are gonna go back way before any of that other stuff happened, but the former best friend stuff is the most recent and the most raw.

---

The criteria I'm using are on an Australian governmental website called Healthline. I'll be posting the criteria and discussing its applicability to the situation. I'm also going to read a webpage for an Australian mental health organisation called Beyond Blue.

Symptoms of PTSD, according to Healthline:

re-experiencing the trauma

I don't think about the actual event all that much, where I realised my friend had gotten with a girl I had been hung up on for about a year. It was less "why doesn't she love me", because she had let me down easy and was seeing other people and I was moving on, and more "how could my friend have done this to me", because I had confided in him about the crush for the entire time I had it and I was already having inadequacy issues with him and severe self-confidence issues.

The initial trauma, where I realised what was going on and blew up at my friend, is embarrassing but not something I revisit very often. What gets me is the thought that he's going to try and come back into my life, or I'm going to be trapped in a room or a conversation with him, or people are going to expect me to be around him and like pressure me to forgive him. It's the thought of going back, or being forced into a stressful situation, that gets me.

repetitive memories (or flashbacks) that are hard to control and intrude into everyday life

The recurring memories that get me are related to the moment where I realised I wouldn't be trying to go back to the friend group any more. It's the entire chain of reasoning that led to me leaving for good.

It's a laundry list of things he did that I didn't like and actively made me uncomfortable or upset, but which he did anyway because he thought it was funny. The first day we hung out outside of school, we went to the pool with another friend. They both got out, and when I went to get out, they started tredding on my hands and arms so I couldn't. I swam to the other side, but they'd beat me over there and keep stepping on me.

What struck me about remembering that in the wake of the girl thing is that it formed the foundation of our friendship, and going forward he would do things just like that - things that he would do to me that I didn't like, but which he did anyway because he thought it was funny. That was the foundation our entire friendship was built on. It was there from the start.

nightmares

Nightmares have always been few and far between for me, thank god. I don't have nightmares.

extreme distress caused by reminders of the trauma

At one point, I would start hyperventilating and crying whenever something happened that would reopen the wound. There have been times since I started working that this has almost happened at work. I'm always in flight mode when I'm in public, especially when I'm around where he works, and even more so when it's the time of the day I've seen him around and run into him after work. I'll have one of those one-sided mental conversations when I'm in bed or at work, and I'll need to let it play out and go over my rebuttals because otherwise it's just the thought of someone trying to force their way back into my life.

memories or disturbing thoughts that can be prompted by smells, sounds, words or other triggers

I have a hard time whenever I see his name, or the name of his girlfriend. I need to rush past it and forget I ever saw it. Both names are fairly common too.

---

The next set of criteria deal with avoidance.

staying away from places, people or objects that may trigger memories of the traumatic event

My former best friend used to work at a shop on the main street of my town. My main street is made up of three blocks, with his place of work being down the end of town we both live close to.

For the first year after the falling out, I wouldn't walk on that block of the main street. There's a second road that goes the same way, but it isn't as paved or well maintained as the main street. Whenever I was walking down the street, I would take that less well-maintained road to avoid potentially running into him. I did that for over a year, and I only stopped because I found out - tangentially, from seeing his new uniform after running into him - that he doesn't work there any more.

I did a similar thing with his home, talking a less convenient path to stay as far away from where he lived as possible. He lives *behind my mum* now, so I'm trying to stop washing my clothes at her house despite not having a washing machine in my flat because I can hear them across the fence.

I also left all of our mutual friends to get away from him. All of them. They're all his. I also close my eyes whenever I'm travelling by the place where the initial fallout happened so I don't have to look at it.

changing a normal routine to avoid triggering memories

Just discussed that in the previous entry. This one very much applies.

not wanting to talk about or think about the event

Outside of the councillor I've had since 2021, a friend I made and my mum, I haven't told anyone about what happened and why there was a fallout between me and my former best friend. A big reason why is because this isn't a "good guy vs bad guy" thing, and while I'm clearly very hurt and fucked up about it, I don't want to color people's perception of him.

If they like him and want to be his friend, they should be able to like him and be his friend. It's not like I'm The Good Guy and he's The Bad Guy, it was an ugly set of circumstances that I reacted very poorly to that forced a personal schism between us. I would talk about it with someone close enough to me because it's cathartic, but I have valid reasons to keep it to myself. All people need to know is that I can't be around him.

Now, thinking about the event - that's something I don't want to do. If I'm talking about it, I'm breaking it down and thinking about the mechanics of it and rationalising it. It's a process I can work through. Thinking about it, on its own, just hurts to do.

I think that's why I have those mental conversations, because I need to always be working through it and breaking it down. That's a fresh hell in itself, because I've been repeating the same points to myself for almost two years. I think of it, I have the mental conversation, however long it takes is a write-off. That's one reason I don't want to think of it.

feeling numb

I've felt numb about a lot of things for years before this was an issue, because I was severely bullied all through school. This event caused some numbness, but most of it is from that prior bullying.

---

These criteria regard negative thoughts and mood.

feeling a sense of hopelessness about the future

Not specific to the best friend stuff. This one stems from over twelve years of bullying, and is aggravating by living in a stressful home environment for most of my life and having such a strained relationship with my friends post-school. The best friend thing is whatever - the end of that friendship isn't going to kill me. The potential to find better friends is endless.

But I struggle to believe I'm ever going to fit in with a crowd that I jive with and which wants me, which has been a persistent feeling ever since primary (elementary) school. I felt that way before I met my former best friend, and I feel it now.

negative beliefs about yourself or the world

Again, moreso due to the bullying that occured before/during the time I made friends in high school. There is something wrong with me compared to other people, and there always has been - there's a tangible difference that puts me at a disadvantage. I have a very negative opinion on anti-bullying tactics and legislature like zero-tolerance policies, because it could be weaponised by bullies in ways that got their victims in trouble. On a good day I'm an optimistic atheist, on a bad day I'm a pessimistic agnostic.

blaming yourself or others unreasonably

I treat the former best friend stuff as a "both sides" issue. I feel bad because I was very emotionally ugly, and this led to me lashing out and being a very angry and spiteful person towards him. In the long run, this was to protect my own feelings and be able to live with myself in the long run, and I have to live with that.

And while I'm indescribably angry at him to this day, the actual decision between him and his girlfriend is both a positive development for both of them and a perfectly reasonable decision between two consenting adults. So like I said, both sides have a point.

I hold a lot of animosity towards my former best friend, and I will never let him get close to me again. I'm also angry at myself for my role in it all. I can recognise the good in it all, but it doesn't make the anger and hate any more palatable.

intense worry, depression, anger or guilt

I've covered anger and guilt in previous entries. Adding onto that: when this was still fresh, my emotional state was changing every day. I felt the full gamut of human emotion in the span of a week. A few months in, I had my first and only anxiety attack because I felt like I was running out of time to mend the bridges I thought I needed to mend.

I was immensely depressed - I didn't know what to do. I lost all my friends for the duration I was gone, and when I left for good, I lost all those friends forever. I felt guilty for the effect my acrimonious exit must have had on people in that group. Even today, it makes me feel angry and guilty, and I worry about the possibility of people trying to force their way into my life. Worry, depression, anger and guilt is most of my life.

not being able to remember the traumatic event

I can remember the traumatic event just fine. I remember the moment I put it all together, I remember lashing out at my friend. I remember the spiral I went into after I stormed out, and I remember the Saturday where I saw him for the first time since and he told me what had been going on.

What I don't remember is most of our friendship before that point.

I remember some good parts, and I remember a lot of the bad. I've blocked everything else out of my memory.

no longer enjoying favourite activities

This is another all-encompassing one with roots in being bullied. I find it hard to play online co-op games with other people, though I play a lot of games we used to play by myself. I've avoided a lot of movies, TV and music due to general shittiness stemming from being bullied, I have to find something that really engages me before I commit to any media.

becoming emotionally detached from others

This is the big one - again, not exclusive to the friend stuff.

I've never been good at making friends, and I stopped actively trying back in primary school. I made friends at the end of high school because I made an effort to befriend people I wanted to be around, but that's how I ended up with my former best friend.

I've never been good at talking to people unless they're more of a conversation starter. Nowadays, I don't even try. Partially because I feel poorly about myself, but thanks to the former best friend stuff, I'm also afraid of being hurt and getting excluded from places when things go poorly.

not being able to experience positive emotions

Again, not exclusive to the former best friend stuff. It's hard to find joy in anything, because I learned to feel judged and criticized at an early age. I stopped getting my hopes up that things would get better. After the friend group fallout, there were weeks where I felt like I would never be happy again unless I found a way to go back to that friend group, and things were endlessly bleak.

Even now, with the job I have, I've resigned myself to a long, arduous existence of working with outdated machinery instead of holding out hope for better equipment coming down the line. It's better to expect the bare minimum and - more often than not - getting it, than to wish for the moon and getting nothing in return.

---

These criteria regard increased arousal.

constant, excessive alertness

I mentioned this before - I'm always on the lookout for a flash of green or a person who looks like my former best friend so I can go the other way and avoid it. I'm always "on". I'm always thinking about places to hide or how to escape.

scanning the environment for signs of danger

See previous entry. Short answer, yes.

being easily startled

More of a general symptom. I've always been easily startled. My former best friend would startle me and play on my insecurities and fears to get a reaction out of me, because he thought it was funny.

irritable or aggressive behaviour

When I was bullied, I came out the other side trying to be as polite and inoffensive to the senses as I could be. I had intense anger and sadness for a long time, and I did lash out for a brief period in early high school, but I grew into a more kind, measured person.

When the former best friend stuff happened, the way I would phrase it is that I "became a person I didn't want to be". I'm outwardly angry now. I'm always ready to be rude and shout at my former best friend if it comes to that, and I will do so with impunity if I'm ever cornered. I still try to be measured and calm, but I stew and mutter and have a hard time regulating my emotions now.

difficulty sleeping

poor concentration

Both of these are moreso bullying-related issues that have stayed with me for most of my life than anything to do with my former best friend.

[stayevildarling]

Wilhemina Venable x Reader- When the time is right - Pt 1

Part 2, Part 3

word count: 3.8k

warnings: mention of scoliosis, angst + fluff at the end

A/N: This story is kind of an AU. Reader meets Venable when Wilhemina is light Mina (orange hair, adorable, cute, friendly) and they get together. One day Wilhemina breaks it off suddenly and they only reunite years later but Reader is met with a much darker version (dark Mina).

Also, this used to be on my Wattpad but I decided to completely rewrite it and add multiple parts

Taglist:

@lunaticwhittaker, @rainbow-hedgehog, @mrsdeanhoward, @alexajbitar, @in-cordelias-coven, @kenzbro, @loverofallthingssarah, @twistedpoeticjustice, @billiebeanhoward, @minaslittleone, @lilypadscoven, @vintagepaulson, @ninaahs, @whitelotus00, @httpfiftyshadesofgay

-Flashback-

''Are you serious right now after all we have been through?'' you try hard not to scream but it feels like your body is on fire, your lungs are burning, heart racing and your eyes watering. You cannot believe you are having this conversation with your girlfriend Wilhemina right now. After a whole year of knowing each other and eventually giving the relationship a go she is talking about moving on.

'It's for the best'' is all she said in return and then she walked out, cane in her hand hitting the floor hard and not once did she look back, she ignored your cries, you begging her to stay and please turn back around. You keep repeating this is a nightmare and you are gonna wake up any minute to her holding you in her arms. But it was no nightmare and she did walk out of your shared apartment and ever since that day you have tried to move on. But no matter what you did working, moving out of the apartment, meeting friends, getting to know new people it didn't work, Wilhemina was always on your mind, when you are asleep she would visit in your dreams, when you are driving or outside and a song plays, she is there in your memory as if she never left in the first place.

-End of Flashback-

Even right now as you are walking through the streets on your lunch break, coffee in your hand and earphones in your ears listening to music she is here again.

''I never needed you like I do right now....I never hated you like I do right now'' as you hear those lyrics your heart skips a beat and it feels like it is breaking all over again. You tried everything you could think of, start a new job in a new field, you moved to a new city but nothing seems to be able to take your mind off the redhead, clouding your mind, her touch still so present lingering on your skin, her voice still ringing through your ears and the smell of lavender following you wherever you go.

Currently, you are working for a company in California, in the social media department and to promote the brand and their work. It's mostly boring but you do enjoy social media and advertisement so you gladly took the job considering it comes with a higher paycheck and a brand new apartment. There was nothing left in your old city, no friends anymore because you drove them all away as they always talked badly about your ex-girlfriend and the feelings you still have for her. No family because you were kind of always on your own and after quitting your job there, there was nothing holding you back. The woman with red-orange hair and a purple obsession is currently on your mind again and no matter what you do she is stuck in your head, like a catchy record and it hurts. As you think about her a wave of flashbacks hit you, with no way of putting a stop to it and keeping the storm at bay.

''Wilhemina Venable, nice to meet you'' was the first few words that you ever heard her say and for a moment you were so struck that you couldn't even say anything. ''Cat got your tongue hmm?'' was what she said afterward and what got you to snap out of it, introduce yourself, and shake her hand. And when you touched her for the first time you knew you would never ever get tired of feeling her soft hands.

You would also never grow tired of looking into her beautiful brown eyes or the soft smile she would give you whenever she would see you. Back then you just finished college and you took your first job and she was your co-worker. Starting a relationship with a co-worker is sometimes frowned upon and there probably are good reasons for that but you didn't listen, not to your friends telling you not to do it and not to the other co-workers after they noticed the glances you and Wilhemina exchanged at work. But you both never let that stop you and you fell for her and you fell hard.

Although you had some crushes before, mostly on teachers in college or celebrities, you never had been in a relationship before. Every morning before work you would get up so early and make sure to put your best clothes on, you would improve your makeup skills and try different hairstyles to impress Wilhemina and you did. She would notice how often you would come around to her desk and ask her silly questions you both knew the answers to but you pretend you didn't. And eventually, she took all of her confidence and asked you out and that night was the most magical night of your life.

You went to an expensive restaurant and after she took you home and she gave you something that night that was precious and you held onto it till today. Patience. She was your first love and she made sure to not rush, to not hurt you, to be there for you and hold you whenever you needed her. After your first date, you went on some more magical nights together, before you were ready to allow her to love you and to love her in return and she made you feel things you never felt before. She would make your whole body feel beautiful and worthy, all your insecurities left whenever you were around the woman who had many insecurities herself due to her back. And that's probably what you admire most about her, the way she made you feel whenever you were with her.

Thinking about all this, you think back to the many dates you both went on, to restaurants, shopping, the movies, car dates, attending work parties together, going to get drunk together. Life felt so easy with Wilhemina around, although she was a few years older than you she was pure, she was funny, soft, kind, precious and she was innocent. She would always treat people with respect and offer help and you loved her beautiful and kind personality. You never thought that one night after being with each other for almost a year she would randomly walk out of your life and not once turn back around or try and talk about it.

Hearing the lyrics repeat, you sigh and shake your head because it is true, one part of you needed Wilhemina back in your life because no matter what you do you can not get her out of your head or heart for that matter. Part of you does hate her for leaving and walking out, you never cried harder in your life than the night she left and you couldn't function for days. All you did was cry, toss and turn in the bed or curl up on the floor in a little ball until you couldn't cry anymore but the pain never stopped. It took days and in the end, your friends who picked you up again, taught you how to take care of yourself again by eating, showering, getting dressed, and going to work and you hoped that moving and changing jobs would change something.

As you are sitting in a park, only a few blocks away from your new workplace, watching people having picnics, playing with their kids, walking their dogs, or doing exercise you realize that all this wasn't worth it. Moving away, leaving your job, apartment and friends did nothing, you still miss her and she still haunts you. You miss her gentle side, the soft Mina as you used to call her, who would hold you in her arms, who would say soothing words until you would fall asleep, and who would make you feel better after a hard day at work, hold you after a nightmare or would let you ramble about another one of the co-workers annoying you. You miss telling her about your days and how you feel because you could be free with her and be who you are and you haven't been that way in a very long time.

Checking your phone you notice your lunch break is over in five minutes so you toss your empty coffee cup in a nearby trash can and walk back to your office. Today has been particularly boring because all you have to do is answer people's dm's and requests on social media because currently there is no campaign going on. As you walk back to your desk you put your coat and bag away and start logging onto your laptop. That's when you hear your boss on his way to your desk and you can't help but internally roll your eyes. He isn't a bad guy or anything, he is in his fifties, grey hair, always wearing a suit and he treats you with respect and you appreciate him but whenever he would approach you it means a problem, like an advertisement going wrong or a complaint or a new major client and that means longer hours and staying in the office till midnight. Not that you mind considering there is nothing or no one to come back home to.

''Y/N'' he says as he finally reaches your desk. Looking up from your desk, you force a smile and reply ''Yes Mr. Odell what can I do for you?''. By his posture, you can tell he is in some kind of distress.

''Listen we have a potential new client and I want you to come to our first meeting with them'' he says excitedly and you question why he can't just bring his assistant. ''I can't bring Janet she is sick so I need you to get your things'' he explains and you log off your computer, take your coat and bag and follow him outside the building. It is quite chilly, so you are glad that you put a jacket over your blazer.

As the familiar buildings and streets fade into the distance, you try not to zone out like you usually would but these days your mind would often be preoccupied with daydreams or memories as if someone else was entirely in control of your thoughts.

''I have a meeting with a Mr. Pfister and Mr. Nutter'' he says absent-mindedly while looking into his calendar and talking about the company you are headed to. Snapping out of your thoughts, you nod and mumble ''Of course Mr. Odell'' before averting your gaze back to the window looking at the hectic city and people going on about their days. Your thoughts wander back to work and you try to think of a few possibilities to advertise their products, as that might not be as easy as you originally thought when agreeing on accompanying your boss.

The first thing you see as you walk into a large unfamiliar building, following your boss's steps,  is a front desk with some employees sitting there, it seems that this building is home to a few companies and different departments as they guide people into different parts of the building. You watch as your boss approaches the front desk,  ''Hello may I help you?'' a woman with blonde hair asks politely.

''Yes I have a meeting with Kineros Robotics'' he says and she looks at you, then him again, and points towards a sign. ''It's to your right just follow the signs'' she says and you notice how her facial expression changed from nice and friendly to cold and possibly scared? after your boss mentioned the company name. Reading people's expressions and understanding their underlying feelings, has always been something you are good at but you quickly shake the thought away and follow your boss.

As you walk down the corridor you see a young woman with long brown curled hair wearing a blouse with flower prints and a skirt run down the hall with a box in her hand, her heels echoing through the building. ''I'm sorry'' she mumbles hectic and nervous as she zooms past you and you give Mr. Odell a questioning expression before reaching the department.

''I'm so sorry there was a bad accident on the 101'' you hear the woman say and then you hear a sound that sounds both so familiar and unfamiliar at the same time. The cane tapping. For a moment you freeze, knowing this isn't just any cane tap as you are so used to a certain redhead woman expressing her emotions partly through the very device that helps her keep her balance. Despite not having heard the sound in over a year, you know exactly who must be on the other end of the hallway.

Temporarily you freeze, thinking maybe her leaving you and breaking things off with you, has ultimately clouded your senses and affected your brain and maybe you are imagining everything. After all the rational part of yourself, is trying to remind you that there is no explanation right now as to why she would be here of all places.

However, the next thing you hear is a clear confirmation that your brain is not tricking you, it's not your mind so clouded by her absence, she is here, the only thing keeping you from seeing each other is a wall and a few steps apart. As you hear a familiar voice your heart stops beating and your throat goes dry.

''Not as bad as the accident that brought you into the world'' that is all you heard and although her voice sounds more cold, harsh and raspy you are fully aware that Wilhemina is sitting at the end of that corridor. For a moment your body goes into a state of shock, your ears ringing, vision blurring, and your heart beating out of your chest.

Shortly after the girl what you assume now to be an assistant comes running back towards the corridor with tears in her eyes and her heels making the same clicking sound. She zooms past you and Mr. Odell again and all he says is ''Damn she seems feisty'' and you know it's aimed at Wilhemina and for a moment you debate whether to just turn around and pretend to be sick or needing to answer a phone call but you know you can't back out now, after all, you have missed seeing her for too long now.

All you wanna do is see her adorable orange hair, that you used to run your fingers through and untangle some knots after she had a long day, the dorky glasses that you sometimes made fun of, and beautiful pastel purple probably everywhere if this truly was her workplace after all. ''Come on'' your boss says, pulling you out of your thoughts yet again and you walk into the large room.

Eyes instantly wander to the source of purple in the room and the source of darkness in your heart and emptiness ever since she left but not only does your heart stop for a moment as you take a look at her, you blink a few times, now actually sure whether this is real or some kind of nightmare.

Wilhemina's hair is a much darker shape of red now and styled into a tall sharp quiff, no sign of her usual high ponytails anymore or the lighter and orange shape it used to be. You notice she doesn't wear glasses anymore and you are convinced her eyes look an even darker shape than before too. She is wearing a dress and it's also a very dark shade of purple with matching earrings. Even her makeup is darker, and as you see her sitting by her desk you can't deny how intimidating she seems, looking at some files, her cane resting on the desk right beside her. Even the cane is different now, it has a snake shape at the top and it's not the old plain one she used to have.

For a moment you believe you just walked right into your own personal nightmare, the funny, sometimes sassy, and beautiful girl you used to love now seems like a completely different and somewhat evil person. The Wilhemina you once loved and still have feelings for, as they never truly changed, seems gone and it seems like she was replaced by a new one, a colder version.

She would have never spoken to anyone like that or treated someone the way she just treated that girl that seems to be her assistant, by the looks of it. All the staring and observing Wilhemina happened in a matter of seconds although it feels like an eternity, everything is silent for a moment, all that is to be heard is your own heartbeat and the typing on Wilhemina's keyboard.

You watch as your boss approaches her and you follow him and finally, Wilhemina looks up noticing the presence of someone else in the room and her gaze is focused on him, so she hasn't seen you yet. He tries to shake her hand and says ''My name is Mr. Odell I have an appointment with Mr. Nutter and Mr. Pfister'' and she just looks at him and his hand with a slightly disgusted expression but she doesn't bother shaking his hand.

''Very well'' she says and takes a glance at you for a split second, noticing a second person in the room and her eyes wander back to her laptop thinking you are just some assistant but when she realizes who you are she immediately looks back over to you and she doesn't avert her gaze at first.

Wilhemina takes in your features for a moment, the sense of fashion, dressing smartly and formally but at the same time stunning as she always said, your hair, the improved makeup skills, and still the same details she always loved about you. She doesn't look into your eyes yet and you are interrupted when two men walk over.

One of them has brown hair and the other blonde hair and you try hard not to chuckle when you see them because they look hideous. ''Mr. Odell, nice to meet you'' they say and shake hands. ''This is Y/L/N maybe someone could show her around while we finalize the details?'' your boss suggests, taking you by surprise, and one of the two turns to Wilhemina and says ''Miss Venable would you give this beautiful lady a tour please''.

For a split second, you are convinced, she is about to kill him but you aren't sure if it's about the tour or compliment. ''Of course'' she mumbles and your boss and the two men leave and you are left there with your ex-girlfriend and awkward silence filling the room. You haven't looked up or into her eyes yet and it terrifies you, she terrifies you.

Wilhemina has no idea what to do or how to react after not seeing you for two years and the last time she did she walked out of your life and your relationship. The redhead looks at you and without looking into your eyes yet she knows the pain, she can see it and she can tell this is killing you inside, the last thing she ever wanted was to cause you pain.

You take a deep breath with your eyes closed and turn to Wilhemina and your eyes instantly lock and you look into her dark brown eyes and not leave her gaze for one moment. She takes a few slow steps towards you, her cane hitting the floor, and with every tap and echo in the room, it feels like your heart is ripped into more pieces and your past is here confronting you right at this moment.

''Mina'' is everything you can say but it comes out as a whisper while your voice cracks. Your ex-girlfriend's eyes close right away because she has missed hearing you call her that for the past two years but as she opens her eyes she reminds herself internally, who she is and that she is currently at her workplace.

''Follow me'' she instructs and you follow her while she walks down a corridor and into a room with big machines. While you follow her you can't understand what would have happened to her to turn into this cold-hearted person. She used to be the sweetest and kindest person you knew but clearly, something has changed. You cannot take your eyes off her and as she walks you into the room with machines, she explains about the work they do here and how they do it and as much as you try to focus and look at the things she shows you, you can't and Wilhemina notices.

''Do I bore you?'' she suddenly snaps in that cold voice again, her nostrils flaring and your heart feels like a knife was just thrown right into it. ''I'm sorr- sorry I-'' but you can't even think of a good enough excuse so you just look at the floor and try hard to keep your emotions at bay.

''Anyways, these are the machines and devices we use, whenever someone places a custom order we make sure to fulfill that order as efficient and quick as possible'' Wilhemina explains her voice still stern, sounding like she has given this tour so many times, she has memorized every single word.

However, you do notice her looking at you the entire time she explains and it seems like she wants you to say something but there are too many things that you want and wanted to say to her for years but you never imagined one day you would run into her like this. For several minutes the two of you stand in the rooms with machines, Wilhemina explaining and you trying hard to focus on her words intently.

''Y/N'' you hear the voice of your boss coming from the door, the two strange-looking men behind him, and you look at him, noticing the satisfied looks on their faces, indicating the deal worked well, and he says ''I'm finished, thank you, Miss, for giving her the tour'' he adds now focused on Wilhemina. ''Let's go'' he says and you walk in his direction without looking back at her and just as you are about to walk out of the door you look at her and say ''Thank you'' and then you walk out.

As you walk out of the large office building, back through the same long corridor, and past the front desk, you can't hear anything your boss is trying to say and the entire car ride back to the office you try and wrap your head around what just happened, abandoning every single word Mr. Odell is saying.

''This didn't happen wake up Y/N wake-up Y/N'' you keep repeating in your head but it's no use this is no nightmare this is reality.

[theglitterypages]

25 and 54 for levi ackerman plzzzz?! ❤❤

Based on Prompt 25 and 54: ( 25. “I’ve never met someone like you.” “Because everyone in this world is different and there isn’t another face like mine? Duh?” )

(54. “Brat, I have nothing to lose.” He touched my head. “Or at least once had nothing to lose.”)

Prompts list

Requested by optamisticsmiles and @geese-goose18

Title: His Worst Nightmare

Pairings: Levi x fem! reader

Summary: You're one of the most skilled Captain of Survey Corps but during one of the expeditipn outside the walls some of your Squad's horses were killed. As a captain you wanted to save them, you knew you can survive outside the walls but your squad may not be able to because all of them are tired so you chose to be left outside the walls and you fend for yourself.

Warnings: None might appear to be a little sad though.

Word Count: 2000+

••••••

“Captain! Most of our horses were crushed by the Titans, we won't be able to meet with Commander Erwin and Captain Levi!”

Your grip on your weapon tightened as you saw the terrified look on your comrades' faces, most of them were young yet skilled but you knew this kind of scenario would really shake them up because this is dead end.

“Take the remaining horses and meet with Commander Erwin!” you shouted as you use your gear so you could slice the Titan's nape. “What the fuck are y'all looking at?! Go before the remaining horses get killed!” four of your subordinates looked at you with tears in their eyes, “We can't leave you here, Captain!” you cussed underneath your breath and swung towards an abnormal titan aimimg for the horses.

“We'll all die if you won't follow my orders. This is not a request, it is an order from your Captain, leave! Now!” You growled as you viciously charged yourself towards the Titan to kill it.

When it fell on the ground, lifeless, you immediately looked behind and a small smile made its way across your lips upon seeing your subordinates ride the remaining horses to save themselves.

You tore your eyes away from them and looked at five Titans charging themselves towards you, you only have one blade left and to say that you're exhausted is understatement, you knew that this is the day where you'll die and you'll embrace your death proudly and wholeheartedly.

Dying to save your young comrades would be the most glorious part of your career as a captain, your young comrades has so much to learn, they still have a lot to know but you've already done your part if you will die in here today your only regrets would be the fact that you can't see Levi in your last breath.

But you heard from your father who's a doctor that once a person dies, they will have flashbacks of their whole life, looking at the brighter side you'd probably see Levi on those flashbacks before you die.

“Let's finish this motherfuckers.”

°°°°°

Levi was obviously anxious as he kept on looking behind him, your squad should be here by this time, you should be tailing them now already but he still can't see you not even a sign of any of your squads.

“Levi, we should go faster.”

“She's still out there, if you want to you can go but I'll wait for her...” he whispered in his shaky voice, before it was so damn easy for him to go on because he had accepted the fact that not everyone could go back alive and he has mastered of masking his grief whenever another comrade has fallen.

But if he's gonna lose you the way he lost his comrades, he would lose his sanity, he would probably go mad once that happens.

“Squads of Captain YN approaching!”

Hope bloomed in Levi's heart as he heard the announcement of your squad's arrival but when he looked back there are only two horses with four people and you're not one of them.

He felt like his heart stopped beating when he tried looking back further but still no sign of you, he decided to shout at your subordinates. “Where is your captain?” he asked in a firm tone and none of them answered.

The teens just looked down and one by one, they broke down into tears. “We're very sorry Captain Levi.” Erwin overheard the conversation and he felt himself go numb. He doesn't want to believe it, he's not losing one of his greatest Captain, not today...

“Can you please stop fucking crying and answer me! Where the fuck is my girl?!”

“She ordered us to leave her, she faced the Titans alone, we're sorry...”

Levi immediately pulled the reins backward, halting the horse from running. “I'm going back for her.” Erwin also halted and looked at Levi as he shook his head.

“By the walls, Levi! We can't afford to lose two of our greatest Captains today. We have to move forward.”

“I'm sorry Erwin. She's the only one that I've got, losing her means I'm nothing.”

“Levi!” Erwin called out but Levi still chose to go back to the forest where you should have been.

As he get closer to the forest his heart beats faster and faster at every moment, his determination of finding you kept him going, he would never leave you, not when you're the only one that he has.

On his way towards the heart of the forest he encountered three Titans and he chose to let out his frustration in killing those three viciously.

When he arrived at the heart of the forest, he immediately looked around, there were no bloods but there's still some remaining of the titans that hasn't evaporated yet.

Which only means one thing;

You're alive.

“Brat!” he exclaimed as he saw your figure laying down on a big branch of tree while you hold your weapons close to you, eyes half closed as you breathe heavily.

You could hear his shouts, he's telling you not to go to sleep but as much as you want to do it your eyelids felt heavy, you can feel him gently slapping your cheeks in attempting of waking you but it obviously doesn't work.

“You can't close your eyes, no. Please baby, don't. We made a promise didn't we? You need to stay with me, you promised to stay with me.”

Levi kept you close in his chest as he rides his horse, he silently prayed that there would be no more titans to appear because dealing with them wouldn't be his priority, he has to make sure you'll get back safe, your head was wounded and he's not sure of how serious the injury was so he did what he could and used his shirt as a bandage to stop the bleeding.

“Lev..”

“Just hang in there, don't sleep. I'll tell you stories so don't close your eyes and hold onto me tightly huh? Can you do that for me baby?” he begged tears streaming down his cheeks, the way you called out his name sounded so weak and every time that he'll look at you, he could see your eyes closed and fear filled his heart, something he has never felt years before meeting you.

After his friends died, he made himself tough, promised not to get attached again so he wouldn't have to lose his mind over and over again whenever he lose a comrade but you came along, he wanted to blame Erwin and Hanji for introducing you to him but he actually would thank them, because he never felt this way before.

The way you made him feel at ease, every time you'll hug him he feels contented and peaceful and whenever he feels your lips on his it is his paradise and his days without you in his side is hell.

So he couldn't afford to lose you now, not today not forever.

“I—I love you, Levi. Take care of yourself for me hmm? I'm sorry if I—”

“I'm not listening so whatever you want to say, say it to me when we get back inside the walls.”

Of course, he can hear you clearly but he's not strong enough to hear you say those words he doesn't want to hear you saying that you love him as if you're saying goodbye and that's not what he wants.

“Lev, I'm tired.”

“Baby just hold on, don't leave me please. I'm begging you.”

As he bursted into tears, his mind was filled with memories of you and him together.

Flashback

“Once we eliminated all of the titans, I would open a book shop and I will read for the rest of my life.”

“Where am I in your plans, brat?” he asked his arms wrapped around you as you rested your head in his hard chest. “You would be spending your days sitting beside me while I read.” you playfully said, pressing your lips in his jaw.

Levi looked down at you with a smirk, “That's not so bad but we should open a teashop with a bookshop inside it so people can read and drink tea.” you chuckled. His love for tea is really strong and to be honest there are four of you in this relationship.

Tea, Books, you and Levi.

Well at least there's no other girls, there's just tea and his cleaning obsession, “We'll do that and I'll tell Armin, Eren, Mikasa, Jean, Connie and Sasha to stay with us. I will be making apple pies and they would love it.” you've grown fond of the teens from the 104th, probably because you've seen how they've grown, how the playful teenagers became brave soldiers ready to fight for the humanity.

And you really want this nightmare to end so those kids would have the normal life, “I didn't know we're also planning to open an orphanage now.” he said, sarcasm perfectly implied.

“Quit talking as if you don't like them.”

“If you want children we can make a lot.” he playfully dipped his head down to press his lips on yours and you hold onto his hair as you returned his kisses, when he pulled away, his grey eyes were sparkling as a small smile made its way across his lips.

“God, I’ve never met someone like you.”

“Because everyone in this world is different and there isn’t another face like mine? Duh?”

Levi stared at you, left dumbfounded of how you sassily replied to his heartwarming statement, “You're picking up my attitude, it's alarming.” he sighed pinching your nose as you slapped his hand away.

“Your fault not mine.” You glared with a pout.

End of Flashback

“You can't sleep because our brats are waiting, Mikasa, Armin, Eren, Jean, Sasha and Connie is waiting for us to be back. We'll still eliminate the titans right? We have so much plans baby, don't leave me please.”

“I'm sorry Levi.”

°°°°°°

“Captain...” Levi lazily looked back at him just to see Armin standing awkwardly as he rubbed his nape, “You should eat and go get some sleep.” Armin told him politely, the blond teen doesn't want to make the Captain mad especially he knows what Levi is going through.

“No. Leave my office now.”

“Captain, we know that it's not easy but you can't sacrifice your health.” Eren appeared bebind Armin and soon after, Mikasa, Sasha, Connie and Jean appeared, each one of them carrying different kind of food but Sasha is holding a container of water because the others forbid him in bringing the food, knowing that she might get tempted to eat it.

“Leave me alone and let me work in my office quietly loud brats. None of you knows what I feel.”

“We do. You're not the only one who's sad, we missed Captain YN too but this is beyond our control. The least we can do is to take care of you because we know that she wouldn't want you to be like this.” Mikasa said, her voice devoid of any emotions as she walked towards the Captain as she placed down a tray of food on top of his table.

“We believe that you're old enough to eat by yourself and we wouldn't have to shove that spoon on your mouth just so you could eat.” Mikasa looked at the Captain blankly and when Levi looked up at her, he narrowed his eyes.

“It's really scary how you sounded like me some times, fine, I'll eat so you brats would shut up.”

The teens' faces lit up as they watch Levi eat, he still doesn't look like his usual self because of what happened but they're all not fine but they also knew that they will be.

“Levi! Captain YN is awake.” Hanji said in between hear breaths, Levi didn't respond and left his unfinished food while the teens followed him, running so they could match his pace.

Levi opened the door of the room and he saw you sitting on the bed, the bandage was still on your head, there was a clueless look on your face when your gaze landed at him and Levi immediately ran to hug you tightly.

You let out a sound of surprise and Levi pulled away thinking that he hurt you. “I'm sorry. Did I hurt you? How are you feeling? Do you remember what happened to us? Do you want some water?” you smiled and shook your head, your gaze landed at the flower vase beside your table and Levi saw how your eyes sparkled when you saw the white Carnation.

“I recognize this flower...” you whispered in a soft voice, you reached out for the flower vase before glancing at the man next to you.

“But I don't know you. Who are you?”

The moment you said that, the teens arrived and they heard everything you said. You heard their gasps and you innocently looked up at them, “Hello kiddos, the nurse told me that I've been out for two weeks. I think I missed something, this man suddenly came in here to hug me.” Armin felt cold sweats on his forehead, he doesn't have any idea how to handle this situation especially they saw how heartbroken Levi is.

“Captain, he's your—” before Jean could even finish his sentence, Levi already cut him off, “Leave, brats. Let me talk to her alone.” you frowned at him before glancing at the kids, “Sir, you're not even suppose to be here. Why are you asking them to leave? I know them.” Eren didn't have to hear Levi's reply to you, he just dragged his friends away from that room, scared of what would happen next.

The room was filled with deafening silence after the teens left, Levi was looking down as his breathing got heavier at every minute that passes by while you were still sat on the bed still looking at him cluelessly.

“You don't have to remember me, just let me take care of you, this is better than losing you completely.” he whispered as he took the flower vase from you, placing it back to where it was. “Do you remember anything aside from the kids? Like how you got injured?” he spoke in a calmest way he could even if he's damn broken inside, the first thing he had imagine once you wake up is you hugging him, telling him that you're not leaving him just like what you've promised but here he is sitting on a chair beside your bed while you don't remember him.

When he didn't get any response from you he decided to stand up as his grey eyes got dulled again, it lost the sparks it has earlier.

“You're probably uncomfortable of having a stranger here. I'll go get the nurse.” he turned his back on you to leave but he heard your voice.

“Levi Ackerman, you'll just leave your girlfriend like this then?”

It only took him three seconds to return to where he was, his arms immediately wrapped around yours as he sobbed on the crook of your neck. “I was at the end of my wits, the whole world can forget about me but not you. Don't pull that shit again.” he scolded, you wanted to chuckle or laugh but you couldn't because you heard his sobs, he's like a child as he hug you tightly as if scared that you'll suddenly disappear.

You slowly pushed him away and wiped away his tears as you comb his hair, brushing off some strands of his hair that's hiding his eyes from you. “Sorry, it was a joke and it's obviously not funny.” Levi sighed as he closed his eyes before a low chuckle escaped from his lips, “I can't believe you even picked up my terrible sense of humour.” he whispered weakly as he pulled you close for another hug. For two hellish weeks he drowned himself in paperworks and in between those times he'll be looking after you while you sleep and it drained him a lot.

“You lost weight.” you stated. You memorized every inch of Levi's body and 2 weeks of being unconscious wouldn't change that fact, you knew that he lost weight, those dark circles around his eyes also suggests the fact that he didn't have lots of sleep.

“You scared me.”

“Where was the guy who told me once that he has nothing to be afraid of 'cause he got nothing to lose?” you brows raised and Levi rolled his eyes before leaning in to kiss you quickly.

“Brat, I have nothing to lose.” He touched your head, his grey eyes looking down on yours as a genuine smile made its way across his lips. “Or at least once had nothing to lose.” he whispered before cupping your face for another kiss, much longer than the first ones, it was also slower as if he's still trying to make sure that everything is real, he's still trying to make sure that his worst nighmare wouldn't happen.

His nightmare where he lost you.

[willowcrowned]

kit fisto carpet artisan

thank you for reminding me.

So, the important part of the Kit Fisto carpet artisan au is that he leaves the Order to make carpets. The going theory among the jedi is that he had an uncle on Coruscant that left him a carpet shop and he decided to stop being a Jedi to carry on the dying trade, but no one knows but him, and he’s not telling. He also takes Nahdar, his padawan, with him. If Nahdar knows why Kit left, he’s not telling anyone either.

So by the time Anakin is sixteen or so, Kit Fisto, ex-jedi and carpet maker extraordinaire, has a bustling business just outside the senate district— close enough for any of the Jedi to visit. And oh boy do they visit.

Typically, when someone leaves the Order, it’s something only spoken about in hushed tones. There’s no gossip, nor speculation, because Jedi don’t gossip, and besides, they usually already have the reason— while no one is obligated to give a reason for leaving, it’s considered polite to do so. It’s not... dishonorable to leave, but a certain distance inevitably develops. Once someone leaves the jedi, they’re leading a completely different life, and most leave Coruscant entirely.

Kit Fisto is not typical. There’s no warning— not a single inkling that he might be considering leaving the Jedi. One day, he walks into a High Council meeting, declares politely that he’s leaving and taking Nahdar with him, and tells them all they’re welcome to visit him at his new address. (He also makes a point of leaving several of his belongings in his apartment, to give the more decorous members of the Order an excuse to visit.)

Come Monday, Yoda is on his doorstep, probing for answers. Kit does not give them, but he does give Yoda a tour and some tea. When Yoda comes back, cackling and pleased, everyone else takes this as the go-ahead to visit. The jedi visit regularly— only when he’s closed, and only when he has time, but they do come.

This is where the fun begins.

Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has an appointment with Palpatine. Anakin Skywalker, seventeen years old, very moody and very angry, has been banned by Obi-Wan from using any speeders, bikes or otherwise, by an exhausted Obi-Wan. (Nominally, it’s because he started a fight in the salles two days ago, but if it keeps him from seeing Palpatine, then so much the better.) (Anakin knows what Obi-Wan is doing, and is furious about it. While perhaps justified, this does not help his case.) So what does Anakin do? He makes his own speeder from old parts. (If he’d thought to call Palpatine, the man would have sent a car for him, but since last time that happened he got a two lecture from both Windu and Obi-Wan, so he’ll just have to be sneaky.)

The problem with speeders cobbled together from old parts is that they have a tendency to break down, usually at the most inopportune moments. For Anakin, this is on the edge of the Senate district, since he was taking a circuitous route to see Palpatine in the hopes of avoiding anyone else he knows. Fortunately, Kit’s shop is nearby, and he’s been with Obi-Wan enough times to know the way.

Anakin walks into Kit’s Artisan Carpets, sopping wet from the rain that just started and looking like nothing so much as a wet kitten. Kit, who has all the grace and wisdom of a jedi master, does not tell him this, and instead offers him a towel and the use of his speeder when Nahdar gets back. In the meantime, he offers, would Anakin like to come see his workshop?

Now, keeping in mind that I know nothing about carpet making, and even less about artisan carpet making, I’m going to say that Kit shows Anakin how to do something simple that’s carpet related. And Anakin likes it. Anakin really likes it. He already loves working with his hands, but this is different. There’s no thinking involved, nothing but the repetitive movement of his hands. Normally, he hates being quiet, being still, but he’s so cold and tired that he’s able to just... drop into a trance. Before he knows it, it’s three hours later and he’s missed the meeting with Palpatine entirely.

Kit sends him back to the Jedi Temple more relaxed than he’s ever been, finally having been able to achieve a meditative state, and with an invitation to come back and help again whenever he’s nearby. When he gets back, Obi-Wan is amazed at how calm Anakin is, and forgets to lecture him on leaving the temple. Anakin does his homework, goes to bed, and when he wakes up, he doesn’t feel so awful.

The next time he comes back from Palpatine’s, riled up and wanting to scream, he stops by Kit’s shop and helps out with some repetitive carpet-related task. The dull motion helps lets his mind wander, but not too far— lets him be still without his brain beginning to scream. For the first time, Anakin is able to meditate without trauma flashbacks or overwhelming, near-painful understimulation.

Once again, he comes back to the Temple calm and slightly better balanced, once again, Obi-Wan doesn’t lecture him. The pattern continues.

Cut to two years later, when Anakin is having nightmares about his mother. Helping out in Kit’s shop lets him meditate on the visions, and Kit has been, well, really great to talk to about attachment. Palpatine is nice and all, but he doesn’t really get the Jedi— has never understood Anakin’s desire to be one. Kit, who knows what is like and is still more Jedi than most Jedi, in Anakin’s private opinion, does. 

Kit talks him through visions, helps him articulate his fears, and sends him to communicate with Obi-Wan. When Anakin says that he’s having visions— not just dreams, but solid visions— Obi-Wan promptly requests a sabbatical, and they go to Tatooine.

Obi-Wan helps him rescue Shmi from the Tuskens, and since Shmi is still alive, Anakin has something to focus on instead of his own rage. No Tuskens get murdered— hell, Anakin is so worried about his mom it doesn’t even occur to him to go kill them until after she’s safe. By that point, he’s not in the thick of the moment, so he has time to imagine slaughtering every single one of them before he does it. He thinks of how good it would feel, yes, but also of the screams, of the feeling of their dying minds against his own, and recoils.

When they get back to Coruscant, new fence installed and comm numbers exchanged, Palpatine’s plan is ruined— Amidala already has a jedi protector, no one knows what to do with the dart, and Anakin is much more well balanced now that he’s seen his mother, knows she’s safe, and she’s talked him through his emotions in a way that Obi-Wan can’t. 

Does Palpatine give up on Anakin as a lost cause? Absolutely not. He does, however, adjust the plan, leaving an even more obvious trail to Kamino. Obi-Wan still ends up on Geonosis, only this time Anakin is there too, and Padmé isn’t. And, here’s the kicker— neither of them managed to get the message to the Jedi Council, so they’re stuck in their little rotating columns while Dooku stalks around and lies blatantly, waiting for them to be rescued and for the war to start. But the rescue never comes.

After the fourth or fifth day of this, Dooku realizes that if Palpatine managed to mess up such a simple plan, it might not be a good idea to follow his orders. He defects, exchanging everything he knows (which is quite a lot) for amnesty. Obi-Wan agrees to the trade, and the three of them escape Geonosis to go face down Palpatine.

Anakin is predictably furious about this. He doesn’t believe Dooku, of course, and he’s raring to kill the guy, but he’s also pretty sure he can’t take on both Obi-Wan and Dooku and win, so he waits until they get to Coruscant to comm the council. (Dooku lets him do it. The backup will be useful and he thinks he can time it so Sidious is throwing Force lightning at them when Yoda shows up.) (He can totally time it right.)

Yoda shows up just as Palpatine whips out a red lightsaber, since Dooku went straight for the beheading without letting him talk, and Obi-Wan was holding Anakin back to see what would happen. Palpatine could have beaten each of them on their own, probably even two at once, provided Dooku and Yoda didn’t team up— but against Anakin, who could probably vaporize someone with his mind if he tried hard enough, Yoda, who’s seven hundred years old and still wins the jedi parkour championships every year, Dooku, who’s the best duelist the Order has seen in a long while, and Obi-Wan, who, while not space jesus, a prodigy, or seven hundred years old, is no slouch in any jedi department, especially the ones that involve keeping Anakin from doing anything stupid? Yeah, Palpatine loses.

They all stumble into Kit’s Artisan Carpets an hour later, smelling of ozone and repressed emotions just waiting to come out. Kit looks at them all, makes a pot of tea, settles Anakin at his usual carpet-task doing place for some much needed meditation, and locks them in the room to talk.

“So,” Dooku says to Kit the next morning, once they’ve sorted all the politics and some of the emotions out, “what possessed you to take up carpets?”

Kit tilts his head, considering, and answers. “I just felt like it.”

(”Really?” Nahdar asks later. “You’re not going to tell them?”

“Well,” Kit replies, “would they believe me?”

“I guess not,” Nahdar says, “but time travel is hard to believe in.”

“It was more of a vision, really.” Kit huffs. “Besides, I did feel like it. Getting stabbed gives one new priorities.”

“Tell me about it,” Nahdar agrees. “Tell me about it.”)

[damnlance]

21 please

Klance prompt #21

21. “Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Summary: Keith shows Lance his bruises and tells him where and when he got them.

-

It’s been eight days since the mission with The Blade.

The failed mission.

Keith can’t stop thinking about it. It's deep in his head. Flashes behind his eyes every time he closes them. It’s all over his body. Literally.

Dark purple and black bruises decorate his arms and legs and torso. Cuts and scrapes on his face. He deserves it, though. It’s his fault the mission went so badly. He swore he had everything under control. He said all the right things that he rehearsed over and over before landing on that freezing cold, yet weirdly humid, planet. He was calm and straightforward, but not demanding in any way. Or.. at least he thinks he wasn’t..

He still doesn’t know when everything went wrong. They were there to make peace with this planet, called Nagara, and offer them all the food, water, and supplies they needed to rebuild their planet after all the destruction and damage from the war 3 years ago. It was Keith’s job as the frontman and spokesperson to provide the aliens of the planet with a state of peace and safety since the war was over now.

But.. somewhere along the lines, Keith said the wrong thing. Or he did the wrong thing? Or he.. said and did the wrong thing at the same time and it made the Nagarians angry? He doesn’t know and he won’t know. His ears are blank to his own voice and words when he tries to replay the moments, seconds, before everything went wrong.

It doesn’t matter. He will never forget the way his mother looked at him after everything.

Her face was filled with pure rage. A look Keith has only ever seen if she was fighting the enemy. Never looking at him. And Kolivan? Oh, don’t even get him started on Kolivan.

Because what happened was so bad, Kolivan put Keith on a temporary suspension. Meaning he would sit out of all things ‘providing humanitarian relief to other planets’ and so on. That meant no meetings, debriefings, or socialization of any kind involving their mission to restore peace, and he would have to watch a four hour long video on what and what not to do during peace negotiations on otherworldly planets.

He was on complete lockdown and it was fucking pathetic.

Not only did he not bother to watch that stupid, long video. Instead, he kept himself locked in his room on the giant galra ship, not interacting with a single galran soul. Including his mother and Kolivan. He couldn't handle the scalding glares or the whispering in the hallways whenever he left to try to get some type of food in him. It was too much. And it’s what everyone was expecting of him. But not as Keith himself. As a mixed breed; a half galra, half human.

After six days of being temporarily suspended, Keith couldn’t handle anything anymore. It was too much and he was tired of literally everything, so he packed up all the shit he could gather, grabbed his trusty space wolf, and left in his galra cruiser without notifying anyone.

Now, here he is, a day out. The ride down to earth is.. pretty uncomfortable to say the least. His cruiser isn’t as big as it looks and with Kosmo tagging along and his giant duffle bag, it’s a little cramped. But it doesn’t matter, because he’s almost to his destination, and he can’t wait to land. Because yeah okay, he’s suspended temporarily, but that doesn’t mean he can’t get away for some quality Keith time. A little vacation never hurt anyone. And he knows just who he wants to spend his free time with.

knock knock knock!

Lance jerks awake. The first thing his tired eyes land on is the ceiling. It’s dimly lit and as his pupils unblur from the sleep still in them, he can hear the static of the tv that’s still on from some boring action movie he decided to watch. The once fresh bowl of popcorn on the coffee table has run cold long ago and the pitter patter of water droplets hitting the roof from the outside can be heard as well.

Lance sits up slowly and stretches his arms above his head, a yawn slipping its way out of his mouth as he tries to register reality around him. It takes him a few seconds to wake up and when he does, he remembers that it was a knock that woke him in the first place. He carefully stands, slipping his bare feet into the slippers on the floor just next to the navy blue colored couch, and walks over to the front door, hugging himself.

As soon as he opens the door, the pouring rain is louder. And Keith is standing there. Soaking wet with a big duffel bag in one hand and a leash that’s connected to the collar on Kosmo’s neck in the other hand.

“Keith!?” Lance is ten times more awake now as he quickly moves aside to let Keith and Kosmo in. “Oh, shit man, you’re soaking wet! Let me go grab some towels!”

“Thanks,” is the first word out of Keith’s mouth. It’s shy and embarrassed but Lance doesn’t pay any mind to it as he rummages through the towel closet next to the hallway bathroom. He comes back and wraps a big towel around Keith’s shoulders, taking the duffle bag from his hand and setting it next to the smaller couch by the bay window in the living room. Lance takes the other towel, kneeling down to begin drying off Kosmo. Kosmo licks his face as he does it and it makes Lance smile, tossing and turning his head away from the alien wolf’s freakishly long tongue. Once he’s finished, Lance stands and finds Keith on the couch, discarding his wet clothes. He walks over and sits on the coffee table directly in front of him.

“Keith?” He asks, the tone in his voice full of wonder and confusion, but also worry.

“I’m fine,” Keith answers, a sigh leaving his lips. He looks at Lance through his long, wet bangs and sends him a weak but reassuring smirk. “I decided it was time for a.. a small break.”

Lance doesn’t look convinced, sitting there twiddling his thumbs. “How small?”

Keith shrugs, losing their eye contact. “Couple weeks, tops.”

“Weeks sound like a long time to be away..” Lance bites his lower lip, his bed head, or couch head in this situation, making Keith want to reach over and pat his hair down. “I feel like there’s something else I’m missing here.”

A sigh. “Later, Lance, okay? I’m tired and wet and cold, and I just want to shower and lay down, if that’s alright?” He finally looks back over to those dark blue eyes in the dark living room and then, a small nod and a smile.

“Sure,” Lance says, this time with more confidence, but his eyes scan over the scrapes and scratches on Keith’s face. “Let me help you out with your suit.”

They both stand and Keith turns around for Lance to unzip it from the back. He moves his long wet hair over his right shoulder and puts his head down. The literal second that Lance grabs that zipper, Keith remembers how his body looks. And if Lance thinks his face is bad, just wait til he sees his body. Keith jerks away and it startles Lance as he almost trips over the coffee table.

“Keith!? What the he-!?”

“I-I just remembered!” Keith looks everywhere but Lance’s eyes now. “I smell horrible underneath this suit a-and I really don’t want you to smell me, so I’ll just head to the bathroom now!”

“What??” Lance scoffs. “A-are you sure?? I don’t mind a little stink, Keith, I’ve smelled you right after a fight with the-!”

“I’m sure.” Keith nods. He sends a nervous smile towards Lance and quickly leans forward to plant a quick kiss to his cheek. He grabs his duffel bag and b lines it for the guest room, closing the door behind him. Lance watches his every move, then turns back to look at Kosmo who is looking right at him.

“What was that about??” He asks the wolf. Kosmo tilts his head, ears popping up. Lance sighs and begins his walk towards his kitchen. “Come on, boy. You must be hungry.”

Keith wipes the foggy mirror with his hand, exhaling a breath of relief from the heavenly shower he just took. He takes the smaller towel from around his neck and dries his hair, ruffling it up in the process. His eyes scan his tired face and exhausted body. The bruises that decorate his pale skin are of dark purples and blues and blacks. They’re eight days old, but they still hurt like crazy. Keith eyes the one right below his left pec. It’s purple with yellow blotches and he presses down on it just to see and the pain that zips down his spine is more than enough warning to tell him to stop. A deep sigh leaves his mouth as he pushes his hair back and ties it up in a messy bun.

knock knock! “Keith? You okay?”

Keith nearly jumps at Lance’s voice. “U-uh, yeah! I’ll be out in a second.”

“Okay.” The concern in Lance’s voice eases. “No rush, though.”

Keith sighs again. He has to tell Lance. Has to show him. Sure, he’ll freak out and never want him to leave again but.. if he gets it over with, there won’t be any more surprises if Lance wants to touch him again.

A soft smile graces Keith’s lips as he thinks about the man just on the other side of the door. They’ve been through a lot. Individually. Together. And even though it’s only been three years, they still suffer through the after effects of the war. They all do.

Lance gets nightmares. About a lot of things. He says his nightmares feel so real, and sometimes it’s hard to decipher if his nightmares really happened or not. It scares him and has left him very vulnerable in more situations than he likes to admit. There’s a lot more than just the nightmares; flashbacks in the middle of the day, jumping at loud noises, never leaving his home because he feels like everywhere he turns, some species-less threat is gonna come out and attack him, Allura’s sacrifice. Yeah. It’s a pretty long list. But with therapy, his family and friends’ support, and Keith, he’s come a very long way to recovery.

Keith on the other hand got most of the paranoia. Even though he still works in space with his galran colleagues, he still can’t help but get that itch underneath his skin that someday, someone will turn on him and try to attack him. It could happen at any time. Any day or night. Anywhere. Because of this fear, he doesn’t get much sleep, and is very overprotective of his friends. Of his mother. Even his space wolf. His knife has become like a permanent extension to his hand, he never goes anywhere without it. Keeps it underneath his pillow, in his back pocket, in his boot, anywhere that’s easy enough to reach so he can defend himself if need be. He’s even accidentally pulled it on all of his friends at least once. Even on Lance, who barely even flinched at the time. It’s safe to say that no one can ever sneak up on him.

And somehow, through all their damage, Keith and Lance still found each other. It wasn’t right away. And it wasn’t planned, either. It’s just.. happened. They barely talked after the war ended, and unpurposely drifted apart. Keith busied himself in his work with The Blade, and Lance distanced himself away from everyone.

But one year ago, around Christmas, Keith came back to spend the holiday with Shiro and Curtis. Little did he know, they were gone for the holidays, so Keith, and Krolia, decided to stay with Lance and his huge family. Lance was so happy to see him, he couldn’t dare to say no. ‘The more the merrier,’ his mother Rosa said. So, while Keith and Lance spent the time shopping together and baking cookies and wrapping gifts and getting drunk on eggnog, Krolia learned a lot of the Christmas Earth traditions and Cuban recipes from Rosa and even got a few surprise presents from Lance’s niece and nephew. She cried because she didn’t know what else to do. Happiness always makes Krolia cry. Keith bought Lance a red Paladin mug with his face on it that he saw at some flea market on one of their stops on some random planet, and Lance bought Keith a giant blanket to keep him warm while he was away in space. The emotions were flying, the eggnog was settling and long story short, they ended up sleeping together, with every ounce of consent they could muster. It’s still one of the greatest nights of Keith’s life.

They’ve been together since then, five months, and even though they don’t have a label on what they are, Keith is happy this way. He likes being label-less with Lance. He likes having a home to come back to, with a warm kitchen, a warm bed, and a warm body. He likes the open space and how much Kosmo and Kaltenecker get along. He likes how much Kosmo adores Lance and his homemade space wolf food, just for him. He likes that Lance buys stuff for him to have when he’s away so he has new things to come back to. New slippers. A new comfy robe. New matching pajamas. A new toothbrush. Keith likes Lance. And everything that they are in the moments they’re together. And although he knows Lance is still grieving over Allura and that it could take a couple more years until he’s ready for a real relationship, Keith would take this over anything. Any day.

As he emerges from the bathroom, he doesn’t bother putting on all of his clothes, just his red paladin boxer briefs. He and Lance have seen each other naked plenty of times, and he’s very comfortable in his skin around Lance. Lance has that effect on him. So when he walks out in just his boxer briefs and a white cotton towel around his neck, he’s got absolutely nothing to hide. Except, maybe not giving Lance a heart attack tonight. Keith hides behind the wall just before the entryway to the living room and curses himself for what he’s about to do.

“H-hey.. Lance?”

“Yeah?” Lance says, something like food in his mouth. “Where are you, man?”

“I’m…” Keith sighs. “Can you just.. cl-close your eyes for a sec.. please?”

“Uh,” Lance shrugs, Keith can hear from his clothes rumpling up. “Sure.”

Keith peeks around the corner and sees that Lance’s eyes are sealed shut. Kosmo is on the floor next to him, sound asleep. His tongue is hanging out just the slightest bit as snores leave his mouth. Keith smiles at the sight and looks back to Lance. He’s so beautiful. This guy has done some much for him and more. Before the war, during, and now after. He’s the greatest guy that Keith could’ve asked for.. greater than that. With that in mind, Keith steps out from behind the wall and walks over to Lance before his brain tells him that this is all a bad idea. The living room is still dim, only illuminated by the television and the lamp next to the couch Lance is sitting on, but it’ll be more than enough light to see Keith’s battered body.

Once Keith is in front of Lance, he closes his own eyes, fists clenched down by his sides.

“Okay.. now on the count of three, you can open your eyes.. but don’t freak out. Got it?”

Lance lets out a small snort. “Yes, Keef, I got it.”

Keith rolls closed eyes and sticks his nails into the palms of his sweaty hands. “Alright.. one.. two.. three..”

Lance’s eyes open. The breath that gets caught in his throat is enough to send Keith’s gut dropping out of his ass and into the floor.

“Holy shit!” Lance is up, eyes roaming Keith’s entire body. “W-what the fu-!?”

Keith opens his eyes and is face to face with Lance. They’re almost the same height, Keith’s got him by a few inches easily, and the look on Lance’s face is enough to send Keith into cardiac arrest.

“I-I’m fine, Lance, really-”

“No, you’re not!” Lance cuts him off, wanting to reach out but too afraid to do so. Keith’s tone, muscular body is a canvas of dark colors and spots of different shapes. No wonder he jumped earlier, Lance could have hurt him even more than he already looks. A shaky breath leaves Lance’s mouth as he meets Keith’s dark eyes. “What happened to you, love?”

Love. The pet name actually sends Keith’s into cardiac arrest, he’s sure of it. But as soon as Lance cups his face with both of his big, warm hands, it’s over for Keith. His eyes begin to water and his throat closes up on him so that he can’t talk. Tears fall down his cheeks as he looks down to the floor between him and Lance. His bottom lip quivers and when Lance tilts his head back up to look at him again, a sob slips its way out of Keith’s mouth.

“Oh, Keith,” Lance coos, bringing Keith into a big, gentle hug. Keith hugs him back, sobbing into his shoulder. “Baby..” Lance whispers.

Keith just continues to sob. He didn’t even know he had been holding back for so long. But here, in Lance’s arms, he can feel everything that’s been bottled up coming out of his throat and from his teary eyes. Lance only continues to hold him, rubbing his soft hands up and down Keith’s pale bruised back.

Keith doesn’t know how long this goes on. How long he cries. How long Lance holds him. But somewhere in the middle of it all, they’ve moved to Lance’s room. Keith sits on Lance’s bed, wiping his red, teary eyes and snotty nose with a tissue. Lance rummages through his bathroom drawer for some numbing ointment that he recently bought for his back and feet from working out on the farm five days a week. When he returns, Keith is done crying. He sits up straight and removes the white towel from around his neck. Lance stands in front of him and kneels between his open legs. He stares at them. At the bruises and scratches and scabbed gashes.

“I..” he starts, clearing his throat from what has to be a lump forming. “I got this.. numbing cream. It’ll help a lot.”

Keith stares down at him as he talks, his voice is so quiet and gentle.

“Can I..?” Lance asks, looking up to meet Keith’s red eyes.

“Yeah.” Keith nods.

Lance uncaps the ointment, squirting a good amount into the palm of his hand. He sets the tube down and rubs his hands together. Then, he gently, gently, places them on Keith’s bruised thighs and begins rubbing the ointment around.

Keith clenches his jaw, hands fisting in the comforter on Lance’s bed. He lets out the air from his nostrils and feels the pain slowly turning into relief. He looks down and watches as Lance works his hands in circular motions, gently rubbing the ointment onto Keith’s injuries.

“..keith…?“ Lance whispers, eyes focused on his hands covered with ointment that’s slowly making his hands numb.

“Yeah..?” Keith answers back, looking at the ceiling of Lance’s room. Those glow in the dark stars are still there.

“How…” Lance clears his throat. “W.. Where did you get all these bruises from?”

Keith sighs. “..blade mission.. gone wrong..”

Something in Lance’s eyes darken. “What? W-when?? How?? W-Where!?”

“Um..” Keith can’t even look at Lance anymore. The worry in his eyes is too much. “A.. Week ago.. on some planet called Nagara. It was.. all my f.. my faul..” The tears are back. Keith blinks them away and sniffs quietly, looking down at his hands in his lap. He can feel himself sinking back to that day, to that mission. He remembers it all so clearly.

They landed on Nagara. The planet was really cold. He and The Blade were greeted by a tall figure who looked similar to an earth bear. They were big, round, had dark eyes all around, sharp teeth and a snout. Three rows of antenna grew out of their foreheads as well as horns of all shapes and sizes going down their backs and spines. And giant sharp claws for fingers. They looked vicious. And they made it very clear that they didn’t like the Galra.

Keith made the first move. He spoke in a calm voice and made his intentions clear; he and The Blade were only there to help and provide the planet with anything they needed. They had food, water, clothes, and building supplies ready on their ships and were 100% committed to fixing up this planet and its species from the after effects of the war. But their King, King Arxuan, wouldn’t let them go any further until they explained what they were doing there. So Keith did.

He explained it all. Voltron won. Zarkon dead. Princess Allura saved the universe. Keith is the red and black Paladin. The Blade of Marmora is good. The Blade of Marmora is here to help. But Keith being Keith.. he’s not too good with his words. Everything sounded fine in his head. And when it came out of his mouth? Completely different.

“We are The Blade of Marmora,” Keith started. “We’re here to provide supplies to your helpless planet that has clearly been affected by the war and-”

Record scratch. Yeah, poor choice of words on Keith’s end. But they left his mouth so fast that his brain couldn't keep up. The King and his subjects didn’t like it one bit and before Keith could keep up with his offensive word vomit, the Nagarians drew their weapons and like a firework, everything went up in flames.

Keith didn’t mean to offend anyone.. and he didn’t mean it like that. But the Nagarians didn’t know or care how he meant it. They attacked within seconds of Keith’s poor choice of words and thank god for his team’s fast reflexes, otherwise his head would not be on his shoulders and he wouldn’t be sitting here on Lance’s bed.

Legs criss crossed on Lance’s bed, the strong minty scent of numbing cream filling the room.

His fingers locked with Lance’s as Lance rubs his thumb over Keith’s fingers.

Gently.

Domestically.

Lovingly.

Keith feels warmth bloom in the pit of his stomach as he stares down at Lance who’s sitting on the floor in front of him. Those deep blue eyes staring back so affectionately. Altean markings just barely glowing in Lance's dim room.

Lance swallows and squeezes Keith’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“I am now..” Keith shrugs, looking at the floor. “But these last few days have been hell.. and the guilt I have for almost killing my team has.. been..”

Lance nods, understanding. He comes up off of the floor and sits next to Keith. The second his arm goes up, Keith is there leaning into his side, nuzzling into his neck. His cheeks are wet with tears again and quiet sobs leave his throat.

“It’s okay, Keith,” Lance nods, planting a gentle kiss atop Keith’s head. “We all make mistakes. Some worse than others. but.. what matters now is that you’re here. You’re alive. And safe.”

Keith nods, sniffling as tears and snot run down his face. He’s had everything balled up until this very moment. The guilt. The shame. The way Kolivan and his mother looked at him. The way the other Blade members blamed him. None of that mattered anymore. Because here, in Lance’s heavenly embrace, he was fine. He was gonna be alright.

“You’re safe, love..” Lance reassures him. “I’ve got you.”

And he does. Lance holds Keith tight, holds him close. Lance lets him cry and doesn’t judge him. He’s just.. there for him. And it’s everything Keith needed.

Keith wakes up in Lance’s bed.

Blanket crowding his entire body. His long hair is literally everywhere around his face and neck and shoulders. The golden sun is shining through the blinds of the window, making him squint a tiny bit, and the pain from the bruises on his body are somewhat bearable..

There’s a smell hitting his nostrils that makes his mouth water and stomach grumble in a hunger he didn’t know he had. When he sits up, Kosmo is right there beside him, curled up in a ball, staring at him. Keith smiles at the space wolf and reaches to pet his head.

“Hey there, boy.” He rubs behind Kosmo’s ears, chuckling a little when Kosmo nuzzles into his hand. Suddenly, flashes of last night come flooding back to Keith’s mind and he groans out, covering his face. Sure, crying his eyes out all night long and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are was nice, BUT crying your eyes out all night long and and being comforted by Lance, his friend-boyfriend-whatever-they-are took a lot out of Keith. He’s tired. Mentally. Physically. Emotionally. He just wants to spend the rest of his time away from work relaxing with the only person he wants to be with in the entire universe. And Kosmo.

And as if on cue..

“Keith?” Lance’s voice is soft. “You awake, yet?”

Keith looks over to the door and sees Lance popping his head into his own room. When their eyes meet, Keith can feel the undeniable spark between them and it causes his heart to do something funny beneath his rib cage. He smiles a bit shyly and brings his legs up to a criss-cross position, Lance’s puffy space themed blankets bunching up around Keith’s waist.

“Morning..” Keith answers, tucking his long hair behind his ear.

Lance’s eyes never leave his as the Cuban boy finally enters the room, two plates full of food in each of his hands. Keith eyes the food and his stomach grumbles once again. The noise overthrows the silence in the room and Keith has to put his hands over his stomach to silence the sound. It didn’t work.

“Good morning to you, too,” Lance chuckles, setting Keith’s plate into his lap. “Guess I don’t have to ask if you’re hungry, huh?”

“Shut up..” Keith flushes and looks down at his full plate of food. Organic eggs, two fluffy pancakes, sweet turkey bacon and a buttery biscuit with strawberry jam decorate his plate beautifully. All of his favorite breakfast foods right there in front of him. Made by the man right beside him with a matching plate of food for himself.

“Dig in!” Lance says, his mouth already full of food. Keith doesn’t waste a second and obeys the words from Lance's mouth. They eat in a comfortable silence, Kosmo moving to the ground to collect any scraps they throw his way. After a while, Keith clears his throat and musters up the courage to look at Lance’s beautiful face.

“H-hey, uh.. Lance?” He whispers.

“Yeah?” Lance is staring at him now, blue eyes boring into him again.

Keith can’t breathe and he finds himself having to take a really deep breath before he continues.

“Thank you,” he pushes out of his throat, “for everything. For letting me cry in front of you, and.. for not judging me for it.”

Lance stops chewing and swallows. Keith quickly takes him all in before he gets caught; Lance’s messy brown curls, his gorgeous tan skin all over his bare torso, those cute little freckles all over his body, his Altean marks. Everything about him is so breathtaking and Keith can barely keep his heart at bay.

“You don’t have to thank me,” Lance says, breaking Keith’s thoughts. Their eyes meet again. “I’m here for you no matter what, Keith. You have to know that by now.”

“I-I do,” Keith nods, tucking his lower lip between his teeth. He sets his plate onto the bedside table next to him and scoots closer to Lance. As if completely on autopilot, he grabs Lance’s face and forces their eyes to meet once more. He stares deeply into those ocean blue eyes and fights the awkward urge to look away.

“Lance,” he starts, exhaling a breath that smells like eggs, bacon, and syrup, “I love you, so much. Thank you for always comforting me and being my right hand man.. you.. you are the light in my life, and I..”

Tears fill Keith’s eyes and to his surprise, Lance also sports some in his own eyes.

“I know,” Lance whispers, gaze moving from Keith’s eyes, to his lips, and back. “Like I said, you don’t have to thank me. I would do anything for you. Because.. I love you, too.”

The second Lance’s plate is out of the way, the two boys are kissing so fast, the air in their lungs can’t keep up. Lance pulls Keith close by the oversized t-shirt around his torso and clings to him for dear life. Keith does the same and cups Lance’s cheeks. Their kisses are full of passion, desperation, and love. And when they part, Lance is trailing those same kisses down Keith’s jaw, to his neck and his collarbones, kissing every visible bruise he can reach.

“I’m so happy you’re safe, my love,” He says between kisses on Keith’s neck. As he pulls back, Keith is smiling like Lance is his whole world.

“Me, too, Lance,” Keith answers, kissing the corner of Lance’s syrupy mouth, his cheeks and neck flushing red. “Me, too.”

-END-

(send me a klangst prompt)

[animemental]

FMA and Trauma Part 3

Hey everyone. I have two blogs: this one and one called pleasegivemescreativity. I made a mistake and accidently posted on the wrong one, so I am copying and pasting back onto Anime Mental. Sorry for the confusion. 

This is Part 3 of my Fullmetal Alchemist series of posts.

*CAUTION: THERE WILL BE SPOILERS.

I want to talk about trauma. Trauma sucks. It feels bad, it can have a ghastly affect on your overall well-being and it is downright unfair. Trauma does not discriminate and it does not pull any punches. I think Fullmetal Alchemist is riddled with trauma, as most anime characters have experienced some sort of life changing event. But, the underlying theme of it really makes FMA stand above the rest.

Quick psychology lesson:

Trauma is an emotional response to an event. It is what we feel after something adverse has happened to us. You can experience a traumatic event through different ways: it happens directly to you; you witness it in person or through a screen; you are told about it; or it can happen to someone you know and you find out after the fact, such as learning about a tornado and discovering your friend was injured a few days later when you go to visit.

There are Big Traumas and Little Traumas. Big T’s are life threatening and can cause PTSD, like a natural disaster, war, sexual violence. Little t’s are highly distressing to the individual but do not fall into Big T category such as bullying, loss, break-up of significant other, basically non-life threatening events. You can still experience PTSD from Little t’s, it is just more unlikely. Oftentimes, when you experience consistent trauma, such as abuse or neglect, that becomes Compounding trauma. It stacks up like pancakes and can lead to other mental health issues such as anxiety, depression, bi-polar, etc.

FMA has some pretty obvious Big T’s. When the Elrics lose their mother and witness the horrors of Transmutation gone wrong, that is a Big T like no other. For Ed, having to re-connect his nerves whenever he breaks his automail is a Little t. Al has the constant worry (until they realize the blood does not wash away anymore) about losing his soul through the blood washing away or getting messed up in his armor, which is a Little t. When our body experiences trauma, the brain attempts to help us by shutting down our feelings when we are re-traumatized. It tries to keep you safe by stopping the pain which looks like anxiety symptoms that avoid the triggers. On the other hand, our brains are not wired to deal quickly with intense stress and often have a hard time processing and handling it. This is where the symptoms like flashbacks, intrusive thoughts, nightmares, etc. come into play.

**Edit: Our brain is not naturally wired to deal with intense stress. It can learn to do it but humans are not born with our amygdala ready to take on sexual abuse as if it is an expected, normal thing to deal with. Just to clarify my earlier statement and give an example. Proceed.

Some moments of FMA I think about are the Elrics reactions to the Butcher. You can see him start to break down in absolute terror when he realizes how dangerous the situation is and how helpless he is in that moment to help himself and Winry. Another is when Edward wakes up after nightmares about what happened to Nina and Alexander. During the episode with The Butcher, Ed even mentions that he feels so weak because he can’t even protect a little girl. That’s some trauma right there.

A good example of a repressed memory is when viewers/readers discover Al has blocked out the memory of his soul being trapped inside the monster thing they created during their mother’s Transmutation. I think most of the characters live in a state of repression just to get through the day. So many have seen or personally suffered horrors that I am glad are mostly fiction. The anime/manga’s subtle hints at normal reactions to stress and sorrow is commendable and helped me relate to the characters more as I watched the show.

Trauma is no joke my friends. If you or anyone you know suffers from symptoms of trauma that I have named, do not hesitate to seek the help of a mental health professional. That is why we are here and studied psychology.

So, that concludes FMA for now. Moving along, I am caught between a throw back or a current love. With that being said, I will make a decision but will keep it a surprise! If you like these posts, find them helpful or thin someone would benefit from reading, please like, comment, share, and tag me! I love talking anime just as much as I love talking mental health.

Disclaimer: I am a trained, licensed mental health professional with a graduate degree and in the process of full state licensure. What I discuss is an accurate as I know and have been taught. I am not diagnosing anyone by sharing symptoms, nor am I promoting self-diagnosis. If you have symptoms that are concerning, seek out professional help so that you do not assume and can get the proper treatment for yourself. Adios!

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever” Chapter 2

After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Read on AO3

Chapter 2 (5061 words)

The first evening in their new house becomes a long, exhaustive dance of unpacking and cleaning in preparation for the movers to arrive in the morning. What, in the past, would have been an upbeat two-step of flirting in the hallways while lugging in suitcases, punctuated by the occasional stop, dip, and smooch, is now a formal, boxy waltz, with Sebastian giving Kurt a wide-berth whenever he hears his husband coming, and Kurt pausing in doorways, eyes darting elsewhere when Sebastian passes by.

The rush to clear the dirt away and make things suitable for the furniture they chose to bring with them affords Kurt ample opportunities to send Sebastian on a host of errands, ensuring him stretches of time that he can spend alone to reflect and think.

Consider the past and plan for the future.

Even after the furniture arrives, they should have tons of space left. They had decided not to bring everything they own with them. They aren’t selling their penthouse. Keeping it furnished for the odd trip back seems like the practical thing to do. So, they only packed those things that they absolutely could not live without. 

They didn’t bring any of the furniture from Grace's room. That Kurt donated to the Salvation Army with the exception of one item – a Winnie the Pooh lamp that he had found in mint condition, ironically, at the Salvation Army, on the day he and Sebastian found out their surrogate was pregnant. It's ceramic, hand-painted, with Christopher Robin and Winnie the Pooh sitting back to back as the base, each holding a handful of balloons. One red balloon, larger than the rest, contains the bulb, the colored plastic lending a rosy tint to its glow. Along the bottom edge are written the words: “If there ever comes a day when we can’t be together, keep me in your heart, I’ll stay there forever.”

Kurt’s mother had read him Winnie the Pooh books his entire childhood. He could recite most of A. A. Milne’s writings by the time he turned eight.

The year his mother passed away.

He'd read those same books to his daughter. She’d had them mostly memorized, too.

Seven hours of scrubbing, sanitizing, and (for Sebastian) racing around town wipe the two of them out, to the point where falling asleep is simply a matter of inflating an air mattress and putting heads down on pillows. They had picked up a Queen size one at a JCPenney along the way. It’s nowhere near as luxurious as the custom-made King size bed currently stuck in the back of an Allied Moving Truck, waiting to take a journey on the 495. This mattress is a tighter fit than they’re used to. It doesn’t help that the thing sinks in the middle whenever one of them rolls over. With the both of them measuring six-foot-plus tall, they have to lie in the fetal position to fit comfortably, which would require them to spoon. But Kurt finds a way to keep himself out of his husband’s arms.

The material the mattress is made out of seems perpetually ice-cold, not warming up a touch with their combined body heat, which Kurt didn’t anticipate. They have the gas and electricity switched on, but there’s something wrong with the central heating. They don’t have the requisite amount of blankets to keep from freezing, which adds to the misery. Despite being pissed at Sebastian, Kurt doesn’t have the heart to send him out at one a.m. to the 24-hour Walmart, so he closes his eyes and resigns himself to suffering until dawn.

For the next five hours, Kurt’s mind stays blank. No noise, no dreams, and no flashbacks, thank God. It’s not restful, but it’s the best he could have hoped for. The last half a year has not been conducive to dreaming. The nightmares keep coming, one after the other, the next one worse than the last, shaking him to his core until he jars awake with a pain in his chest like someone had tried, in steel boots, to stomp him into the dirt. But waking up doesn’t solve the problem. He doesn’t know what he hates worse – waking up weeping in his husband’s arms or waking up weeping alone.

Kurt’s feelings for Sebastian are complicated when he thinks they shouldn’t be. Kurt should either love him and forgive him or hate him and move on. But he loves him and hates him. His hands itch to hold him, but a second later, he wants to shove him away. He wants to go, but he can’t imagine leaving.

As much as it sucks, Kurt can’t imagine living without him.

He would prefer to go back to being shamelessly and hopelessly in love with him. Hating him has become a crutch. But it’s enough to get him through. Regardless of that fact, which should tie up the loose ends, mend the hurts and cool the hate, it doesn’t, because Kurt can’t find a way to forgive him.

A well-meaning Facebook friend had told Kurt over Messenger that the problem was Kurt’s pride had been hurt by Sebastian cheating. Push the pride aside and get over it. Ultimately, the marriage is more important. Then he said something about Kurt putting on his “big boy” pants, mentioned God, and quoted the Bible.

A minute later, Kurt blocked him.

That’s another blessing of moving - leaving behind the get over it already crowd. He hates them more than the forever sorry folks. The people who tell him to move on, to get over it, to put it behind him, don’t really care about him. They want him to stop complaining, as if they’re obligated to follow him on social media, and that puts the burden on him, in turn, to make them feel comfortable.

Maybe some of them do care, but not enough to put themselves in his shoes and understand that it’s just not that easy. Being on the outside of the swamp and looking in at a man who’s drowning, yelling at him to grab a branch and pull himself free, is different than being the man stuck hip-deep in mud that feels like cement and losing a fight that’s beyond his control.

Sometimes, as a matter of self-preservation, you simply give up.

Kurt doesn’t know who Sebastian slept with. He has his suspicions, but he doesn’t know for sure, and Sebastian won’t confirm. He says it’s because he wants to put it behind him, forget it ever happened, and that infuriates Kurt. If sleeping with another man was something Sebastian would need to put behind him, why even do it? Or (and Kurt hates himself for thinking like this), if Sebastian didn’t want Kurt to dwell on it, why not take steps to ensure that Kurt wouldn’t find out? Sebastian, of all people, should have known that this would eat Kurt up inside. It’s the kind of thing he’d never let go of. Yes, Kurt would be devastated if he discovered the cheating and the cover-up years after the fact, but he’d be in a better place to mourn his marriage apart from mourning his daughter.

What Sebastian did was selfish on so many levels.

Kurt knows that sex isn’t love, but he can't help wondering – was there a moment in the middle of all of it, caught up in the kissing and the fucking, where it felt like love?

Kurt met Sebastian in high school. Kurt wasn’t just a virgin back then. Oh, no. He had created his own category of virgin for which he could have had a cape and costume custom made – Captain Super Prude. Sex was a taboo topic for him, so much so that his high school’s chastity club hated him. 

Apparently, he set the bar too high, made them look loose in comparison. 

As much as he had fantasized about finding a special someone who would sweep him off his feet, gently usher him into manhood by making soulful but passionate love to him, he preferred not to think about it too often or too in-depth. The "talk” between him and his father was a mortifying experience.

There were pamphlets involved. 

He still has some of them.

When it came to finding a boyfriend, Sebastian wasn’t what Kurt had planned on at all. Where Kurt was attracted to debonair, old-school, gentlemanly types a few years older than himself, Sebastian was crass, rude, explicit, and a year younger. On top of that, he was (to coin a phrase stolen from one of Kurt’s best friends, Quinn) the biggest French whore of them all. Sebastian didn’t care for romance and he didn’t attach emotions to sex, but he definitely had a way of making men fall in love with him. Kurt Hummel and Sebastian Smythe were the two people in the world least likely to fall in love with one another. But according to Sebastian, he fell in love with Kurt long before Kurt fell in love with him.

Sebastian claimed that Kurt was the first man he had ever fallen in love with, and at first sight, no less.

He whispered those words in Kurt’s ear the first time they made love.

He said those exact words during his toast at their wedding.

He wrote them in every birthday, Christmas, and anniversary card he ever gave to Kurt.

He said them over Grace’s crib the night they brought her home.

“Look at this little thing, Kurt,” Sebastian had sighed, reaching out to stroke Grace’s cheek. “Our daughter. Is it ridiculous that I’ve only known her for two days and I’m already in love with her?

“Technically, nine months and two days. But, no. It’s not ridiculous.”

“I never thought I could fall so fast in love with another human being before I met you.”

“Really?” 

“A-ha.” Sebastian smiled when Grace yawned, her whole mouth moving in a complete circle before she settled down again. “I fell in love with you the second I laid eyes on you. And then, well, it was all over for me.”

Those words, the memory of that happiness, breaks Kurt’s heart. Could it be possible that, after close to twenty years of marriage, after reciting those words so many times, they didn’t mean anything anymore? Had Sebastian found someone else he could fall in love with?

Kurt has asked, but Sebastian won’t answer that question. He says it’s insulting.

Whatever the answer, he probably thinks he’s doing his husband a kindness. What he’s really doing is prolonging the torture, not giving Kurt the information he needs to make a decision that he can stand behind. Every time Kurt looks at his husband, he sees touches on his skin that don’t belong to him, kisses on his lips that he didn’t put there.

Kurt doesn’t know how to make himself see past them.

Instead, he looks away.

The second Kurt feels sunlight on his face, he’s out of bed. He grabs his messenger bag and pads down the hall to his studio before Sebastian can stir.

The room looks different with blurry morning sunlight bleeding through the windows. Kurt didn’t put black-out curtains up, and the sheer curtains that came with the house let fingers of light poke through, bouncing off the wallpaper and brightening the floor. 

Yikes.

Kurt examines the floor now that he sees it clearly. It’s a mess - the wood warped as if someone had paced it incessantly. It had been varnished at one time. Spots of resin dot the boards like oily puddles. The wood itself (some variety of walnut, Kurt suspects) has blackened to a morbid pitch with age. It sucks up the light and gives little back.

“Oh, yeah,” Kurt murmurs, pressing around the brittle edge of one spot with his toe, watching it crackle into shards. “This has to be completely redone.”

He gets stuck on the idea that this room could have been his daughter’s if she were still alive. He and Sebastian had talked about raising Grace in a suburban environment, and as much as he regrets not giving her a house with a yard and room to grow, Kurt leaned heavily on the side of staying in the city. Some of his motives were selfish. He loved Manhattan. It had been his lifelong dream to end up there. He wanted his daughter to grow up with all of the things he didn’t – culture, diversity, theaters and libraries and museums a train ride away. He didn’t want her raised around the closed, narrow minds of small-town folk. He wanted her to be an independent thinker – liberated, rational, intelligent. But he also wanted her to be compassionate and kind. He wanted her to know the world, its wonders and its failings, the way it truly was, not the way it looked on a movie screen, and long to change it for the better. They participated in fundraisers, gathered donations for the homeless, and volunteered in soup kitchens.

Grace was a pure light, a driving force that, at her age, Kurt didn’t get the chance to be.

So in honor of her, he wants his workroom to be bright and colorful - a mixture of his vintage aesthetic and her fun-loving personality. He’ll paint the walls her favorite colors, put homages to her in the details, choose the furnishings she would have preferred.

Since this will be the room he spends most of his time in, he wants it to be everything about his daughter that he adored.

He opens his bag and pulls out his phone, checking the time. 6:08. The movers are supposed to arrive between eight a.m. and ten. But movers, electricians, plumbers, and cable guys never arrive on time. He fishes out his sketchbook, sits on the floor, and gets to work jotting down a layout. First things first, he decides where his drafting table will go, where he’ll store his bolts, where he’ll put his sewing machine, a spot for a work chair, marking places here and there for personal touches like his mother’s vanity, his first-ever dress form, a few of his awards...

And photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

He didn’t keep photographs in his studio at Vogue. He had an obsession with keeping his private life private, which he doesn’t apologize for. Since he met clients there, he liked to keep that space impersonal. Nothing to get in the way, spark a conversation that might derail the job at hand. 

Unlike Sebastian, who hung candids galore. He stuffed the most Godawful photographs from their high school and college years into collage frames and nailed them to every wall of his office, squeezing things like his degrees and diplomas into far corners so that those pictures could be prominently displayed. He said that people knew the Smythes by name and reputation. If anyone wanted to see his credentials, they could Google them. But when people walked into his office, he wanted them to know that first and foremost, he was a family man.

Sebastian knew from childhood that he would become a lawyer. He never dreamed he would be a father. 

Or a husband.

Those were the two accomplishments he seemed the proudest of.

Kurt regrets not having more pictures of Grace hanging on his studio walls, her smiling face to look at every hour of every day, watching his meetings, overseeing his layouts. She was his good-luck charm, his missing puzzle piece. She deserved a place of honor.

Now, he’ll give her one.

His stomach growls as he works. A smell from somewhere tickles his nose, and he groans. Just a few more seconds of sketching on the hard ground, and he’ll grab a bite to eat… maybe. With his ass numb, he doesn’t see a reason to get up, and bedsides, he’s on a roll. Car doors closing and constant banging echo in, and he winces, his head throbbing from lack of sleep. Dammit! If it would just stop till he finishes! It’s hard enough to concentrate as is! He hopes this is a one-time-only thing. He’d hate to wake up to that cacophony every morning. If he ever decides to go outside and meet the neighbors, he’ll have to find a polite way of asking them not to do whatever that is before he has his morning coffee.

Of course, soundproofing is also an option.

“Kurt? Kurt, are you… ?”

Kurt shifts his legs underneath him. He lifts a hand to massage his shoulders. That mattress must have killed his back. His arms ache something fierce. Sitting on this floor doesn’t help, the uneven boards digging into his legs, but it’s not an impetus for him to stop.

Just one more minute.

One more minute of sketching out this room, and he’ll join the world. One more minute to get his thoughts straight. One more minute to brush aside the things that like to torture him. Forget that his mother died when he was eight, his stepbrother when he was eighteen. Forget that his father passed away three years ago and his daughter six months ago.

Not too long after, his husband cheated.

Five.

That’s how many things he had loved in this world more than himself.

Those are the things that he’d lost.

They were the things he needed to forget in order to make it through till the evening.

He’ll replace the insulation and the drywall, smother everything in a noise-proofing compound, then paint the walls in swirls of pink and gold. He’ll do the ceiling in shades of blue, indigo, and violet, like the sky at night, and cover it in crystals to represent stars the way Grace had wanted to do with her bedroom. Kurt had promised her he would the second everything was over, when they could risk her being around the debris and the fumes.

He has never broken a promise to Grace. He isn’t about to start.

He scribbles those notes in sloppy script in the margin of his paper, wipes tears with the back of his shaking hand. He tries to focus on specifics to bring himself back from the brink of a breakdown. He needs a good cry, but he doesn’t want the comforting that will go with it if Sebastian hears him. He can’t right now. Sebastian comforting Kurt turns into Kurt comforting him back, and Kurt only has the strength to handle one outburst.

“Kurt? Did you want to… ?”

Kurt waves a hand to shoo away the buzzing beside his ear, relieved when it doesn’t take much more than that.

In order to paint the walls, he’ll have to take the wallpaper down.

That brings to mind the corner of torn paper over by the window and the word written underneath.

Darling.

That corner offends him. Kurt keeps entertaining the thought that that word has nothing to do with Sebastian, that there is another layer of wallpaper underneath festooned with line art of flowers, along with quotes from various love poems sprinkled throughout, circa 1800s. But then that would make that one tear and that one word an incredible coincidence since darling is the pet name Sebastian has called Kurt since day one. When he started doing it, every time he said it, Kurt had an urge to sock him on the jaw.

He was a pain in the ass, even back then.

Did Sebastian actually think Kurt would fall for writing darling on the wall? After the things he said? After what he did?

Kurt’s hand trembles so badly, he smudges the ink on his page. He stops writing, takes a deep breath, and counts to ten. He closes his eyes and concentrates on the sun warming his face. It’s gone now when it was there a second ago, which is disconcerting, but he has to ignore that and calm down.

He has to relax.

He promised he’d give this marriage a chance, that he’d try to make this work. Sebastian, so far, has held up his part of the bargain. He’s given Kurt space. He’s listened to him vent uncontested. He’s let Kurt keep tabs on him – where he goes, when he’ll be back, with photo texts in between to prove that he is where he said he would be. Kurt has to give him the benefit of the doubt. If Sebastian extends an olive branch, Kurt should take it.

But did he want to?

“I didn’t hear you when you got up this morning.” Sebastian’s voice starts Kurt’s hand up again. He wants to look busy. He doesn’t want to be caught in a position where he has to give his husband his full attention.

He hasn’t forgotten everything yet.

“Well, you were dead to the world,” Kurt replies, distracted.

“I’m just saying, see? You won’t disturb me. You don’t need to put a bed in here.”

Kurt bobs his head back and forth, adding a place in his layout for a foldout out of spite. “We’ll see. It’s only been the one day.”

“That’s true.” The way Sebastian says it, it sounds like a challenge. A tired challenge. Like Sebastian knows he’s already lost. “So, you like the room?”

“Yeah. I think I do.”

“And what about the rest of the house?”

He doesn’t know why Sebastian sounds like he’s asking. It’s a done deal. They both agreed on a new house. Sebastian found one he thought Kurt would like and bought it. What? Are they going to back out now and magically move somewhere else?

Will moving around from house to house solve what’s wrong between them?

“It’s fine, I guess. I don’t know. I think it’s hard for me to visualize without taking the grand tour. I’ll be able to tell better when I get started decorating.”

“Are you gonna hire that guru guy to help you with the yin and yang stuff?” Sebastian jokes cautiously. “That Kung Fu guy… what’s his name… ?” Sebastian snaps his fingers as if he’s seriously trying to remember.

“He’s a Feng shui practitioner, and his name is Carl.”

“His name's Carl?” Sebastian laughs. “No no no, his name is not Carl. Carl is the name of a dentist. He’s not a guy you call to Wang Chung your house.”

“Feng shui,” Kurt corrects again. “I hired him to help me create balance in our home.” He chuckles despite the fact he doesn’t want to find Sebastian funny. He doesn’t want Sebastian to affect him. But he’s right. The man’s name irked Kurt, too, when Isabelle referred him. “Ridiculous name or not, he seemed like a knowledgeable guy.”

“Do you think that Shaolin stuff could work here?”

Kurt pauses to give the matter some thought, and that kills the moment. The levity becomes saturated by the pain hanging in the room, and Kurt coils further into his sketch.

“That remains to be seen. But I think I’m going to try doing it for myself this time. Of course, the overall effect is going to be completely thrown to heck when you hire whoever never to decorate your office.” Kurt throws a derisive scowl over his shoulder. It misses its mark when Kurt won’t look Sebastian in the eyes.

Sebastian swallows Kurt’s scowl without thinking of a comeback. They’ve had that argument before when Kurt redecorated their penthouse. Kurt felt the need to redecorate whenever something big happened in their lives, but Sebastian’s office was off-limits, so it stayed the same. Kurt tried to find one or two things to put into his design scheme that would bring a theme from Sebastian’s office out so that the penthouse would blend, but whatever the thing he chose was – a print, a vase, an ottoman, or a coffee table – it stuck out like a sore thumb, until Kurt tried less and less.

“Can’t fight City Hall,” he’d say, returning to the business of finishing the rest of the space. Things changed around them, and yet, in Sebastian’s carefully curated world, life stood still. The last time Kurt redecorated was before Grace was born. Nothing in the penthouse matched Sebastian’s office after that.

“I want you to do it.”

Kurt stops scribbling. “Me?”

“Yeah.”

Kurt almost looks back to see if Sebastian is serious. He stares at the paper in front of him, the surface more ink than white. “Are you… are you sure? You always said that we need our separate spaces.”

“That’s only because you’re a little heavy-handed with the pastels. I trust you. Just don’t go making it all shabby chic.”

Kurt is speechless. This is the opportunity he has been waiting for their entire marriage – to decorate Sebastian’s office. Once upon a time, he saw it as the ultimate gesture of trust.

Back when he was naïve and fairly stupid.

“Don’t worry. I won’t.” Kurt debates standing up and giving Sebastian a hug or a handshake. This seems like a time that would warrant it. But when he rolls an inch to his knees, his entire body screams with pain. God, he feels old. How can he be this stiff after just half an hour?

Kurt returns to his planning. Even though he doesn’t feel prepared to leave his sanctuary, he fixes on that solid mask he’s been wearing for weeks around Sebastian. Just one more minute. One more minute, and he’ll go downstairs. He thinks he says it out loud. He expects Sebastian to go back to their room and get ready for the day, but he stays in place like a statue, watching Kurt draw, huddled over his sketchbook with his back turned to him and the door.

Kurt waits to hear the sound of footsteps retreat the way they came, but they don’t. His pencil stops above a square drawn in the corner meant to represent his stereo. He can’t continue his drawing with his husband watching, so he bites the bullet.

“Was there something else you needed?” he asks.

“They’ve… uh… got the bed in,” Sebastian says. “And the TV.”

Kurt scrunches his nose and lifts his head. What does he mean? The bed and the TV are on the moving truck. Kurt looks at his phone, resting on the floor by his knee.

“What are you talking about?” Kurt scoffs. “The movers haven’t even arrived yet. It’s only 7:15.”

“That’s right.” Sebastian speaks slowly, the way he does when he’s explaining something to Kurt that he thinks Kurt might explode over. He leans forward like he wants to come in but doesn’t without an invitation. “It is 7:15. In the evening.”

Kurt's head snaps up, eyes rolling because Sebastian is crazy.

There’s no way.

He's ready to object, but with his gaze away from his page, he notices something different about the light in the room. Instead of a soft, diffused blue, it has become a thicker yellow. Shadows stretch across the floor that weren’t there before. The room is warmer than he remembers, and the skin of his left shin, folded over his right, feels hot and irritated, like he might have gotten a sunburn.

“Evening?” Kurt shakes his head. “How can it… ? But… why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you come get me?”

“I tried. I told you when the movers arrived. I asked you what you wanted for lunch. I brought you the portable heater and put a lamp in here when it started to get dark.”

Kurt looks around. In the emptiness of the room, they’re easy to see - a plug-in heater behind him, and, in the corner of the room to the left of the door, standing straight and tall like a structural support beam, a brass lamp without a shade, filling the room with artificial light.

The first two pieces of furniture in his new studio, and Sebastian put them there.

Kurt doesn’t want them. He’d rather be cold and alone in the dark.

“We don’t have WiFi or cable yet, but I set up the Blu-ray player,” Sebastian continues. “I thought I could go get some take-out, and we could have a picnic dinner on the bed. Maybe watch a movie?”

Kurt does a 180 on his sore ass and looks at his husband (which is to say he looks at a spot over Sebastian’s head) with a mildly confused expression. He’s not really thinking about the bed or the movie or dinner at all. Even though he was hungry earlier, apparently hours earlier, he’s not hungry now. He couldn’t be less hungry. His desire to eat simply evaporated. It's been waning for weeks. Sometimes he forgets to eat until Sebastian sticks a sandwich in his face. Sebastian has become devoted to keeping Kurt's stomach full. He knows better than to comment on his weight loss, but he keeps a stock of temptable foods on hand.

He’s keeping Kurt on life support.

Sebastian stuck a spear into the heart of what they had together. Now he’s keeping Kurt alive to help him fix it.

Kurt hates that he didn’t see it that way until just now.

“Kurt? Please?”

Here’s the olive branch, Kurt thinks. He has to decide whether he’s going to take it or toss it aside.

He had promised Sebastian he’d try, and Kurt has never broken a promise to Sebastian.

No matter how much he hurts, he’s not going to start tonight.

His father always said that a man is only as good as his word.

Kurt closes his sketchbook. “Alright. I’m coming.” He tries to unfold his legs, but his knees lock up on him, and he rushes to massage the beginnings of a cramp. Sebastian looks like he’s about to spring in and help, but Kurt puts up a hand. “I’ll be a minute.”

Nodding, Sebastian takes a step back. Even with that rejection, he looks happier, more hopeful. He takes his phone out of his pocket and leaves the room. The grateful smile on his lips should fill Kurt with warmth. It used to.

But it doesn’t.

After a meal of Szechuan from a questionable establishment (not questionably clean, just questionably Chinese) and The Devil Wears Prada (a movie Sebastian swore up and down he’d never watch again), Sebastian falls asleep with his head on Kurt’s chest. And Kurt lets him, even if he himself barely gets a minute of peace.

[buckleysjareau]

wish i could keep you in amber, safe from the outside

Neither of them say anything as Eddie takes shelter in Buck’s arms, face tucked in the crook of his neck, sheltered from all the bad that’s happened. A safe place.

He can only hope that he’s Buck’s safe place, too.

or

In which Eddie and Buck are struggling after the shooting and they finally have a much needed talk.

Content warning - very non descriptive depictions of war, mentions of blood, suicide statistics and past suicidal thoughts!

(Read on AO3)

Incoming! 

Break, break, break! We’re pinned down and we’re taking fire, two clicks north of our last reported position. 

Prepare for— 

Boom! 

Norwahl, stand down! You gotta get out! What the hell is wrong with you? Norwahl! 

Pain. 

Major 6-4, what’s your ETA? 

Dust off, 47. ETA six minutes. 

We don’t have six minutes. 

Diaz, keep low. Don’t stop. 

Wake up! 

Diaz! I’m black on ammo! 

Go! Go! Go! 

Diaz, he’s dead! 

Diaz, you okay? 

He’s screaming. 

He’s out of ammo— he’s got no other moves left in him. The pain is excruciating. 

Shannon. Christopher. 

I’m sorry… 

He clutches his Saint Christopher medal and he can’t stop the tears. 

Pain. 

Shannon. 

To protect you, to keep you safe. 

–

Eddie shoots up, arms flailing and screaming out something he’s not even sure is comprehensible. His heart is beating out of his chest, won’t stop, and he can’t seem to catch his breath. 

Then his surroundings start to filter in and his eyes land on his son—wait, Christopher?! 

“Chris?” He chokes out, the all consuming fear he couldn’t shake from the nightmare making words hard to speak. “What are you doing here? Are you okay?” 

“Did you have a bad dream?” Christopher asks as he reaches forward to cup his face, wiping away a tear. Eddie almost breaks. He didn’t deserve this kid. 

“Yeah, bud, I did.” He admits with a crack in his voice. 

He’d had that nightmare almost nightly for three weeks after he’d woken up in a hospital bed, his shoulder hurting the way it had when he woke in Afghanistan—Buck by his side being the one thing that stopped him from thinking he was back there. 

It’s been almost two months since that day, and Eddie kept telling himself—and everyone else— that he was fine. That he was talking about it, facing it so he could heal from it. Which wasn’t exactly a lie, he was talking about it with Frank. He just wasn’t exactly facing it as much as Frank is trying to get him to and—he wasn’t exactly fine. 

His heart races whenever he’s outside, subconsciously scanning his surroundings for anything suspicious. He’s constantly alert to everything going on around him—sights, sounds, smells. 

The nightmares started to happen less and less, though, and he could move his shoulder without wincing, the pain down to a dull ache. He was cleared to return to work by his doctors and by Frank. He was ready to go back. 

Or so he thought, until their first call. They were called to a car wreck on Twelfth Street and he hadn’t realized just where that was until the truck pulled up. He’d felt Buck tense up next to him, Eddie’s own muscles tensing right after him. 

Despite Bobby saying he could sit this call out, Eddie declined and pushed past the pounding in his heart, the tightness in his chest and the instinct to duck under the truck when a car backfired near them to do his job. 

He managed to keep it together the rest of his shift. He kept it together on the car ride home, which he has Buck to thank for that. He kept it together through dinner with Carla, Christopher and Buck. 

He kept it together until his head hit his pillow and he could finally break down a little. He’d perfected the silent tears a long time ago, when he was still under his parents’ roof and was taught that crying made him weak. 

He cries until his heart is tired and his eyes flutter shut, no energy to fight the sleep that he knows won’t be peaceful. 

That’s what leads to where he finds himself now, grasping to stay in touch with this reality as his son wipes away the tears in his eyes, soothing him. 

“You’re going to be okay, dad.” He whispers and Eddie chokes out a laugh. 

“When did you get so grown up?” He sniffles before opening his arms wide. “What do you say, you want to stay the night here with me? It’s been a while since you’ve slept in here.” 

Which he’s grateful for because that means Christopher hasn’t been subjected to a nightmare in a long time. But the nights Christopher crawled into his bed after a nightmare didn’t just only help his kid. 

Chris settles in next to him and rests his head on his shoulder, and for the first time in so long, Eddie feels calm. Peaceful. 

He glances down at his son, who’s already asleep once again, and he can’t stop the tears that build in his eyes at the thought that he’d almost left him—again. 

Diaz, you want to ride with the kid to the hospital? 

Yeah, that’d be gr—

His son had already lost his mom, and because of someone with a stupid vengeance, a really close call almost took his father away from him too. 

His emotions are strangling him not for the first time that night. He refuses to wake his son twice in one night, but he feels like he’ll suffocate from the lump in his throat if he doesn’t let it out, so he carefully stands up from the bed without moving his son too much. 

He moves to the bathroom out in the hall, shutting the door behind him before he catches his reflection in the mirror. The bags and dark circles under his eyes make him look like a zombie, brown eyes tearful and dull. The look is familiar to the one he wore for months after he got home from Afghanistan. 

Greggs is dead. 

The others aren’t, thanks to you. 

Greggs...died on impact. 

And you pulled him out anyway. You got them all out, Staff Sergeant Diaz. 

You did good, Diaz. 

Doesn’t feel like enough. 

Splashing his face with water does its job to bring him back to the present but does little to help the lifelessness behind his eyes. 

“Eddie!” 

At the frightened call of his name, Eddie is suddenly ready and alert for any incoming danger. 

He stands with his hand on the handle to the bathroom door, standing still, listening out for the call again. 

“Eddie! No!” 

He’s off without a second thought, fast but quietly running towards the living room where he knows Buck is sleeping. 

“Let me go! Eddie!” 

Eddie’s heart is in his throat at the agony in his best friend’s cries and the sight of him thrashing so bad he’s started to move the couch. 

A sob erupts from Buck’s lip and that’s what kicks Eddie into action. He’s in front of the couch on the coffee table, not too close to crowd him but close enough to reach out if needed. 

“Buck, wake up, it’s okay. I’m okay, you just have to wake up. It’s just a dream.” 

He tries to reach him with words but nothing seems to be getting through, so he reaches forward and shakes him, his name on his lips, and braces for the impact of flailing arms and kicking legs. Nothing comes. 

Except the broken sob around Eddie’s name. 

The tears well up behind his eyes once again but this time, he pushes them back. The first thing Buck sees when he’s shaken out of his nightmare should not be Eddie crying. 

He squeezes down on his shoulder once more and that’s what seems to do the trick. Buck shoots up on the couch, Eddie’s name leaving his lips on a scream, hands clawing at the blankets in front of him—clawing at the blankets like he’d clawed to get away from Mehta to get to Eddie. 

“Eddie!” 

“Buck, Buck, it’s okay, I’m okay. I’m right here. It was just a dream. Buck, look at me!” 

Eddie, look at me! Look at me, man, come on. Stay awake! 

Buck freezes when his eyes finally land on him, but before Eddie can let out a sigh of relief that he’d gotten through to him, Buck is gripping his shirt just over where the bullet went through and the tremors going through Buck go straight through Eddie from the contact. 

“We need to stop the bleeding!” He croaks out. “You’re losing so much blood. There’s so much blood.” 

Shit. Buck might be awake, but his mind isn’t there with the rest of him yet. 

“Hey, Buck, there’s no blood. Okay? There’s no blood. I’m fine, I’m all patched up—” 

He pulls the bottom of his shirt up as much as he can and uses his other hand to move Buck’s hand from the grip on his shirt to the scar just under his shoulder. 

“—see? You helped stop the bleeding. I’m okay, Buck, because you saved me. We’re not back there. You’re here with me in my living room and I’m with you.” 

The fog is slowly starting to clear from his eyes as he traces the scar. “You’re okay?” 

“I’m okay.” He assures. 

Eddie thinks they might be in the clear until Buck looks down at his trembling hands and his breathing picks up, more and more until he’s hyperventilating. 

“Get it off—it needs to—make it go away. Get it off of me. It’s all over.” He sobs and Eddie has to clasp both of Buck’s hands in between his own when he starts to roughly rub at his face. 

Eddie needed to calm himself down. He needs to stay grounded in this moment because Buck was in front of him, but so far away and needed Eddie to bring him back. 

So he takes a deep breath and thinks about how Buck helped him through one of his flashbacks he’d experienced a couple of days after waking up in the hospital. 

“Buck, I think you’re having a flashback right now. That’s okay though, because I’m gonna help get you through it, just like you did for me in the hospital.” 

Buck whimpers. “The blood—get it off.” 

“There is no blood, Buck. Do you hear me? Listen to my voice. It’s Eddie, we’re both safe and okay at my house right now, there’s no blood. If you can hear me, squeeze my hands.” 

Eddie relaxes the slightest when there’s a light squeeze around his fingers. 

“Good, that’s really good. Do you think you can lift your head for a second?” He smiles at him when he lifts his head and meets his eye. “Look around the room. Describe your surroundings.” 

Buck’s grip on Eddie’s hand gets tighter. 

“Okay, how about this—” Eddie pauses and looks around the room, finding the object thrown just a little bit across the room and leans forward to grab it. “Take this, Buck. Can you tell me about it? The details? The feeling? Describe it in great detail for me.” 

Buck pulls his hands away from Eddie’s and grips the blanket in front of him. 

It was a weighted blanket Adriana had given Eddie for his birthday one year, that was however taken by Buck whenever he’d stay over. That weighted blanket was used for comfort by Buck, no matter the mood he was in. It stays at Eddie’s house because Buck is there more often than not, but make no mistake, it was now Buck’s. 

Hopefully this helps. 

“It’s–It’s weighted.” Buck stutters out. 

“Good, good. What else about it?” 

“It’s gray…and plaid…”

–

“I’m sorry that I woke you up.” Buck whispers into the quiet kitchen. 

Eddie sighs. “You didn’t wake me, I was already up.” He admits. 

“Oh. Are you okay?” 

He’s already tensing up, like Eddie’s been hiding that something’s been wrong the entire time, like Eddie wasn’t as okay as he was telling Buck he was. 

Which, technically would have been a lie if he’d been talking about his mental health—but he was reassuring Buck that he was in good physical health, so, nothing to hide. 

Eddie still hesitates. “Yeah, I’m okay.” 

He continues when Buck raises an eyebrow in disbelief. 

“Physically, I’m okay, I promise. Just had a nightmare.” 

It’s completely silent aside from a sharp intake of breath from Buck. 

“You’re still having nightmares?” Is what Buck finally asks, voice wavering and quiet. 

“You’re having nightmares?” Eddie asks, deflecting but also asking out of concern. 

Silence follows after. Buck won’t look up from where his eyes are trained on the mug of tea Eddie had placed in front of him with a look that he’d hoped read I care about you. The heat of his stare could probably heat up the tea on its own, but the look doesn’t deter him, it only makes him more concerned. 

Buck, for the most part, was open about how he was feeling. It’s a quality that Eddie adored and often envied. He liked to—had to—talk his feelings out until he could make sense of them. If he didn’t, it would build and fester and eat away at him until he snapped. The lawsuit was one example of what happens when Buck doesn’t talk out how he’s feeling. 

He knows he has Doctor Copeland and maybe he’s been talking about it to her, but Eddie can’t get rid of the feeling that this is something that has festered over two months and if that’s the case—

Well, he’s terrified of what Buck will do when he finally snaps. 

Up to fifty-four percent of suicides in people with PTSD are attributed to PTSD. 

He swallows the lump in his throat as a statistic he’d read in the book Frank had given him about PTSD makes its way to the forefront of his mind. He has to stop himself from physically flinching away from the thought. 

It was something he brought up with Frank after he’d read the book at his insistence. The statistic had struck something in him then and the question that followed from Frank had given him a lot to think about. 

“Have you recently thought about ending your life?”

It wasn’t a recent thing but it had been an almost consistent thought after he’d gotten back from Afghanistan when his PTSD was at its worst and he hadn’t seen an end to his suffering in sight. 

What if Buck has been feeling the same way? 

What if one day his trauma gets too much and he— what if he—

No. That’s not going to happen, not if Eddie has anything to say about it. 

He breaks the silence. 

“Have you talked to Doctor Copeland about how much you’re struggling?” 

Still refusing to look at him, Buck mumbles, “I’m not struggling.” 

Eddie scoffs. “I believe that.” 

“You should.” Buck huffs out. 

“You’re allowed to struggle with this, Buck. What happened was—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He cuts Eddie off abruptly, his voice choked. 

Eddie crosses the room, pulls out the chair next to Buck from under the table and turns to face it directly at him before sitting down. 

“Well, I’m sorry, but we’re going to talk about it.” He says matter-of-factly. 

“Eddie,” Buck starts, his tone a warning.

“Buck.” He counters in the same tone. 

Buck looks like he’s about to bolt— he knows him well enough to know he won’t, but he still reaches out and gently squeezes Buck’s forearm, not letting go. He can feel how much he’s still shaking and squeezes again in an effort to comfort him—and comfort himself, keep himself and Buck grounded in the present. He’s feeling so on edge himself, so he can’t imagine how Buck must feel after that flashback. 

“We haven’t talked about that day. It’s been almost two months and we haven’t talked about what happened.” He swallows. “Have you talked about it to anyone?” 

The breath Buck takes in is shaky. 

“Why are you so insistent about my struggles when you’re struggling yourself?” His tone is defensive but it has Eddie nodding. 

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, then meets Buck’s eyes. “I am. Struggling.” 

It’s the first time Eddie has admitted to anyone outright that he was struggling. He’d talked to Frank, but he only ever said the bare minimum of what he was feeling and he admits he had no plans to continue his sessions with Frank now that it’s not mandatory. 

The uncomfortable feeling that always comes with being this vulnerable, even with Buck, starts to buzz under his skin but he continues. 

“It’s not something I ever like to admit, you know this...but yeah, Buck, I’m really struggling.” 

At the break in his voice, Buck’s hand is suddenly resting on top of the hand that’s holding onto Buck’s forearm. He remains quiet but he gives Eddie a look that said he was listening if he wanted to talk more. 

He’s not surprised to find that he does want to talk about it more because talking to Buck has always been easy, no matter how hard the topic was to talk about. 

“I was really bad when I came home from Afghanistan after I was given a Silver Star. I was being called a hero by everyone when all I could think was that I didn’t do good enough because Greggs still died, still left three daughters behind.” 

Eddie pauses to take a much needed deep breath and turns his hand that’s under Buck’s palm up and grasps onto Buck’s the second their hands connect. Buck squeezing back is enough to get the next words out of his mouth. 

“I’m really scared that I’m gonna get that bad again, man.” Eddie whispers his greatest fear. “There have been days where I’ve been terrified to leave the house, thinking that they didn’t actually catch the sniper and I’ll be back there again. I can’t go back there again.” 

Buck squeezed his hand again in comfort. 

“I’m always going to be here for you, Eds. I won’t let you go back there.” Buck’s voice is no more than a whisper but the sentiment is so loud. 

He knows Buck will always be there for him, it’s not a surprise, but the simple promise from his best friend was exactly what he needed to loosen the tightness in his chest for the time being. A sob bubbles past his throat and that’s all it takes for Buck to pull him into his arms and give Eddie the tightest hug he thinks he’s ever received. 

Neither of them say anything as Eddie takes shelter in Buck’s arms, face tucked in the crook of his neck, sheltered from all the bad that’s happened. A safe place. 

He can only hope that he’s Buck’s safe place, too. 

“And I’m always going to be here for you,” Eddie whispers against Buck’s neck after a while. 

He feels the moment Buck tenses. He expects him to pull away, to try to convince Eddie he’s not struggling, but instead, Buck sucks in a breath and grips the back of Eddie’s shirt. 

“You almost weren’t.” 

The choked whisper has Eddie tightening his arms around Buck. “But I’m here now and that’s because of you, okay? You kept me alive.” 

He doesn’t just mean the way Buck had gotten him into the safety of the 133’s truck, or the way he did all he could to make sure he hadn’t lost any more blood. 

He fought to come home to Christopher, and he fought to come home to Buck. He held on for those two and those two only. 

Not Ana, who he should have thought of but she wasn’t who he loved. 

It’s a good thing that he hadn’t fought to come back to her, too, because the moment Eddie shut down… she left. He couldn’t blame her, he’d been a wreck when he first came home and his mental health was not on her. 

But Buck was there. Buck never left, has never left, will never leave. If Eddie is sure of anything, it’s Buck’s permanency in his life. 

He’s going to make damn sure he’s a permanent in Buck’s by fighting to come home to him, too. 

“I froze, Eddie. I didn’t do anything.” 

“You did everything you could do in the situation and you saved me, Buck. Don’t you get that? You kept me hanging on, you got me back to my son.” 

He feels Buck shake his head as he starts to burrow his face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He doesn’t respond, just shakes in his arms. A sob escapes Buck’s lips. 

Eddie holds him tighter, using his good arm to rub his hand up and down Buck’s back in an attempt to soothe him. 

“Talk to me, Buck.” He pleads. Eddie is still crying himself—hasn't been able to get himself to stop. 

“There was so much—” He starts off before pushing away from Eddie’s embrace and puts a hand near his throat, rubbing at his skin as if he was scrubbing something off. “So much blood.” 

Yeah, that’d be gr—

—gunfire. 

Eddie shakes his head, trying to dispel the memory from the forefront of his mind. 

“Yo–you–you reached for me, and I cou–couldn’t get to you. Then your eyes closed and oh my God, Eddie, there was so much blood.” 

Buck is pretty much wailing at this point and he can’t help but wonder how Christopher hasn’t been woken up yet from the noise they’ve both made. He doesn’t think he can take the pain in his heart at the anguish in his best friend’s cries and he vows to himself to never cause this pain again. 

He’s still rubbing at his neck, staring directly at Eddie’s shoulder and Eddie doesn’t like the way his stare starts to become distant. He reaches for Buck’s hand and lets out a sigh of relief when he lets him pull it away from his throat. 

“Stay with me, Buck.” 

Stay with me, Eddie! 

Breathe. 

“Shit—fuck—shit, I’m so sorry.” Buck chokes out and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise—confusion, disbelief… 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, man.” 

“No, no, I do. I’m not the one who got shot, I shouldn’t be—I shouldn’t be struggling like this… and you got shot, you’re dealing with your own feelings about that, you shouldn’t have to listen to me.” 

Eddie ducks down to try to meet Buck’s eye. “Hey, no, it’s not a competition here—who had it more traumatic—no. You were covered in my blood, you were being targeted in active shooter situation—”

“Actually, I wasn’t.” He cuts him off sharply. 

“He was targeting firefighters.” 

“I was in my civies. He wasn’t after me, he was targeting the 133 and you.” The guilt in his statement cuts right through Eddie’s heart. 

“You’re allowed to be struggling, Buck. You’ve got every right to be and I hate that you haven’t talked to anyone about this— it’s been two months. Why?” 

“Because I’m not the one who got shot and because I just freeze like I did then when it’s brought up. I couldn’t get myself to talk about it but now that I have it’s all coming out and fuck, Eds, I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“You were still involved in a completely fucked up situation and anyone who has would struggle. I get it, though. You’re the first person outside of Frank that I’ve talked to about how it’s messed me up. But shit, Buck, I know from experience how much worse I’d be if I didn’t talk about it.” He takes in a deep breath and lets out a humorless laugh. “When did we switch places here?” 

He continues when Buck gives him a bewildered look. 

“You have to talk your problems out to process them and I have never liked talking about my problems. When did you become the one in this relationship to hold it all in and when did I become the one that actually talked about it so I could heal from it?” 

“When I almost lost you.” Buck whispers, his voice wet. “I’m proud of you, though. I’m glad you’re talking to Frank. I hope he’s helped.” 

“Well you didn’t lose me. I’m right here, so talk to me. Come to me when you get like this. We went through the same hellish trauma together so I promise you I won’t get tired of you talking about your feelings from it—about anything.” 

He knows that Buck feeling like a burden is part of his reluctance to talk, it always was whenever Buck came to him to talk about his struggles. 

Buck sighs, tension deflating from his body little by little before he folds over and rests his forehead on Eddie’s chest. Eddie takes his hand that’s not holding Buck’s and cards it through his hair. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll try, on one condition.” 

“Anything.” Eddie means it. 

“You come to me, too.” 

“Deal.” Eddie smiles. “Maybe you can do something for me though?” 

“Anything.” Buck whispers. 

“The second her office opens, set up an appointment with Doctor Copeland.” Eddie almost pleads. “I’m going to book one with Frank.” 

He hadn’t planned on going back to him after the sessions stopped being mandatory but this talk has made him realize a few things, and one of them was that therapy had helped. The difference between Eddie’s return from Afghanistan and the aftermath of being shot was just that—therapy. 

And if it got his best friend to actually talk about it and start healing, too,  that’s a positive bonus. 

“Yeah, o—” A loud yawn escapes Buck that cuts him off. 

Eddie yawns right after him, followed by a snort. “We should probably get some sleep.” 

“I can’t—I don’t want to have another nightmare.” 

Eddie moves the hand in Buck’s hair to his cheek and lightly taps him. He smiles at Buck as their eyes meet. “I’ve got an idea. C’mon, get up, follow me.” 

Buck never makes a move to let go of Eddie’s hand as they walk and neither does he. He goes over to the couch and grabs Buck’s weighted blanket with his free hand and leads him to his room. 

“Eddie?” Buck stops him before he can open the door. 

“Stay with me tonight.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“It would be for me, too.” Eddie squeezes his hand. “Though I should warn you—” He opens his door to reveal Christopher sound asleep in his bed. “I should have said stay with us tonight.” 

“Eddie.” 

“I’m absolutely positive I want you with us tonight.” He answers the unasked question on Buck’s tongue. 

He lifts the blanket and gestures for Buck to get in first but Buck shakes his head. “You can go there.” 

The bed stirs as he gets in. 

“Dad?” Christopher mumbles sleepily. “Buck?” 

“Yeah, bud, Buck’s here. He also had a bad dream, do you mind if he sleeps with us?” Eddie asks, already knowing his son’s answer would be yes. 

Christopher nods with a sleepy smile. 

When Buck slides in next to him, Christopher leans over and cups Buck’s face the way he had cupped his not two hours ago. “You’re gonna be okay, kid.” 

Tears appear in Buck’s eyes but he gives Christopher a wet smile and nods. “Yeah. I think I will be.” 

His son really was the greatest. 

Buck’s insistence that Eddie got into bed before him starts to make sense after Buck starts to fall asleep. He subconsciously slots himself against Eddie’s back and pulls him closer, leaving his arm around him, resting over his heart. 

He wanted to protect him. He’d wanted to protect Eddie from all of the dangers that could come through that door. 

In that moment, Eddie has never felt safer. 

His safe place.

[keanureevesisbae]

“Henry Cavill is a dad”

A one shot in the universe of ‘Mister Cavill, your dog is kinda fat’

Henry Cavill x Olivia Tran

Summary: After his hiatus, Henry is about to do his first interview in years at the James Corden show.

Wordcount: 1.5k

A/N: This family owns my heart, so I have some one shots prepared, so you are warned haha. If you haven’t yet send in a question for the Q&A session I have on Thursday (more information right here) and you still want to know something about the main and side characters of my fics, send in your questions (if you want to of course!)

Masterlist // Next one shot //

This was Henry’s first filming experience after adopting Vanessa and having Elodie. Elodie is now a a little over a year old now. Thankfully the movie was filmed in the UK, which caused him to stay with his beautiful family and it was worth it waking up extra early each morning, to go to set.

But now he is in the States and he is about to be on the James Corden Show. Before he gets on, he sees he has a few minutes to spare and decides that he should FaceTime Olivia, hoping she answers. When she picks up, he is mesmerized by her smile, though she is on ocean away.

‘Hi, my love. How are you?’

She smiles brightly. ‘I’m good, just enjoying my hot chocolate before I go to bed. How are you? Nervous?’

‘A bit,’ he admits. ‘But that’s just because it’s my first big interview since my tiny hiatus.’

‘Tiny?’ She cocks an eyebrow, before she bursts out in laughter. ‘A tiny hiatus that lasted almost two years, Henry Cavill,’ she chuckles.

Leave it to his lovely girlfriend to remind him of that fact. ‘How have the girls been today?’ he asks.

‘They have been really good today,’ Olivia says, before taking a sip of her hot chocolate. ‘Vanessa is sleeping in one of your shirts, because she misses you and it smells like you.  Elodie keeps on looking at pictures of you whenever I walk around with her, points at it and mumbles: ‘Him’. It’s adorable.’

Don’t cry, Henry, he tells himself. You have to go up for an interview with an audience here in the studio and back home. You can’t have red eyes of crying. ‘Just two more weeks,’ he says, more to comfort himself than Olivia. ‘I really miss you girls.’

She smiles. ‘We miss you too, sweetheart, but you are doing something you love. Please, don’t feel bad and enjoy every minute of this.’

‘Yeah, I’m trying,’ he says. ‘How are you holding up?’

‘Just fine,’ she says with a smile. ‘However, I do think that I earned myself a nice weekend away with your mom and Belle when you are back.’

‘I do think that you’ve earned that,’ he smiles. God, Olivia is so breathtakingly beautiful. It’s still beyond him that this woman fell for him, allowed him to adopt Vanessa and that they had a baby together. It was hard on them, when Elodie was born. Because of the rough birth and the intense aftermath, Olivia had a hard time sleeping, constantly waking up with nightmares and flashbacks of the birth and leaving Elodie alone was a definite no no. Though she was getting help thanks to his mom, it still ate her alive and that killed Henry. He felt he wasn’t a good enough dad to Vanessa and Elodie, because he constantly had to call his mom. He felt like he wasn’t a good enough boyfriend to Olivia, because he didn’t know what he could do to help her out.

But thankfully, after six months, it all went uphill again. Olivia had processed the trauma of Elodie’s birth and finally gained back her sleeping pattern, causing her to get back her energy. She went back to work, but because she was breastfeeding Elodie, he came to her work at twelve, to pick up the flasks with milk and for Elodie to be peppered with tons of kisses.

Though they are apart now, from the looks of it, they are managing just fine back in London.

‘I miss you,’ he confesses.

‘Oh Henry honey,’ she says with a smile, ‘I miss you too. I can’t wait for these two weeks to be over. I don’t know how the time difference will be able to allow it, but Vanessa would love it if you FaceTimed her before she goes to school.’

‘I think it’s around one in the morning, but I’ll make sure we can FaceTime, love.’ He sees his manager walking in, saying that he is up in a few. ‘I have to go,’ he says, though he’d much rather talk to her for an eternity.

‘Okay sweetheart, good luck with your interview. I love you.’

He’ll never get tired of hearing those words. ‘I love you too, beautiful.’

After a few minutes, he enters the stage, hearing the loud screams of fans in the audience. Though he loved being a family man (and still loves that more than anything in the world), this is something he definitely missed. He shakes James Corden’s hand, sits next to Reese Witherspoon, his co-star for their newest movie.

‘Thank you two so much for being here,’ James says. ‘But before we are going to talk about your movie, that from what I’ve heard will be an absolute hit, we need to talk about the elephant in the room.’

Henry already knows what this is about and he can’t help but smile. Did he turn into a mushy man when it comes to his family? Yes, he totally did and he isn’t regretting that for a single moment.

‘In case you missed it, which I cannot understand, because it went viral: Henry Cavill, out of nowhere, posts a picture, announcing that not only he has adopted his girlfriend’s daughter, but they were also expecting a baby together, little miss Elodie.’ The picture he posted a few days after she was born, appears on the screen, causing people to awe. ‘Tell us,’ James says, ‘how did this all happen?’

Henry chuckles. ‘Well, I met Olivia, my girlfriend, when I accidentally fed Kal some kibble that made him throw up blood. I called a few animal clinics, but hers was the first to pick up.’ He knows that he has a disgustingly soft smile on his face, but he can’t help it. ‘But she brought her six year old daughter with her, because she couldn’t find a sitter. And well… One thing let to another. I fell head over heels with her and Vanessa was and still is the most adorable girl.’

‘Didn’t it scare you that Olivia already had a daughter?’

‘Not one single moment,’ Henry confesses.

The crowd goes ‘aw’, something that he wasn’t actually expecting.

‘Look at your smile: you are totally living your life with your cute little family.’

‘Oh James,’ Reese says, ‘you have absolutely no idea. I met them and oh my, they are the cutest. Olivia is such a wonderful and powerful woman and their daughters… Vanessa is so well behaved and smart, like I felt dumb after meeting her and Elodie is so precious, constantly hiding her face in Henry’s neck, before glancing at you with a smile, before hiding again.’

Henry can’t help but beam with pride. ‘I’m so lucky,’ he chuckles.

‘Is it hard for you being away from them now?’

He nods. ‘It is. I have been there for them for so long now, but I know that my parents are there for them if they need anything, so that helps me ease my mind.’

James nods. ‘Will you ever take them on a red carpet event?’

Henry shakes his head. ‘Olivia hates those types of events and I don’t want to expose my daughters to any of this. They haven’t chosen for this life, so I want to keep them out of the spotlight for as long as possible.’

James cocks an eyebrow. ‘However you share a few pictures of them every once in a while.’

He can’t help but smile. ‘Well, I just really want to show them off.’

‘That’s a real dad,’ James chuckles. ‘How old are they now?’

‘Vanessa is nine and Elodie is one,’ he says. He should stop smiling, but he can’t help himself.

‘My oh my,’ James says, ‘this is so adorable. Henry Cavill is a dad.’

He knows that he is a dad, but to hear someone else say it, is still a bit unbelievable. As a joke Belle calls him ‘Olivia’s baby daddy’ and while his brothers are embarrassed for him, he actually doesn’t mind. ‘Yeah, I’m a dad indeed. It’s crazy.’

‘You have three lovely ladies around you now, how do you manage?’

He shrugs. ‘Just fine. I love being around them. Vanessa is such a funny, lovely and smart young girl and she continues to surprise us with everything. Elodie just turned one, but it’s amazing to see how she is developing. I obviously missed that with Vanessa and it’s so fascinating to see how Elodie is learning new things about the world and all.’

‘Are you a nervous parent?’

‘He is,’ Reese answers before he gets the chance. ‘It’s really endearing though, but he is constantly on the look out, to a point where Olivia has to snap him out of it.’

‘Yeah, it’s true,’ Henry admits. ‘It’s just that they are all my girls and I want to take good care of them.’

The audience goes ‘aww’ at the exact same time in the exact same key and he can’t help but blush like crazy.

James nods. ‘Man, you really are happy. They are so lucky to have you as a dad.’

‘Well,’ Henry says, ‘I’m really lucky to be their dad.’

Taglist: @thelastsock​ // @flhorah​ // @sausagefest1996​ // @laufeysodinson​ // @xxxkatxo​ // @memoriesat30​ // @henrythickcavill​ // @crimsonrae​ // @henryobsessed // @madbaddic7ed​ // @summersong69​ // @lyrafraiser​ // @peakygroupie​ // @coldmuffinbanditshoe​ // @mary-ann84​ // @thereisa8ella​ //@crazyandanonymous4u // @xuxszx​ // @emmaofgreengabbles​ // @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair​ // @onlyhenrys // @omgkatinka​ // @oddsnendsfanfics​ // @speakerforthedead0 // @agniavateira // @gearhead66 // @chamomilebottom // @diegos-butt // @yoyoanaria // 

[bbq-hawks-wings]

Enji doesn't realize he's adopted Hawks until he has a nightmare about protecting his (5) kids & Hawks is one of them. He tries to tell himself that dreams aren't meant to be taken seriously but he can't deny it after a week of worrying & feeling oddly affectionate towards the kid. He doesn't know how to handle it especially on top of his family issues. But it slips in when he starts to get overprotective in the field. Hawks is taken aback by the changes. In the midst of Hawks dealing w/his own

issues w/his parents Enji acts w/out thinking & puts a comforting hand against his head. It's the same gesture Hawks has seen Enji give (or attempt to give) his kids. Both realize the parental gesture at the same time. Hawks has no idea how to deal w/the sudden change in their dynamic. Everyone thinks Enji did something bad because neither knows how to approach it. Hawks tries to switch to his happy facade out of habit but Enji calls him out on it because he knows it's fake. Rei & the others think its time to finally talk about their unspoken adoption. Hawks is just so uncomfortable the whole time because he's not used to people wanting him & he's not sure what he should do. Rei tells him to take time to think about it but not to push them away. No one bothers him at dinner but he's still trying hard to comprehend being accepted into a family. 

~~~

He lies awake that night in his own bed, at his own apartment, wondering what to do with these feelings. They’re not bad feelings, per se - just uncomfortable. He doesn’t hate them or not appreciate them, but he just doesn’t know what to do when he feels them. He doesn't know what to do with a father figure raising a hand to him in a sign of affection and comfort for his emotional struggles. He's doesn't have a memory of a mother who lovingly smiled at him, held his hand, and excitedly told him she packed his favorite things in his lunch because she knows he has a lot to do that day. He's always dreamed about it, but now that he has it-?

His breath hitches. He has it now? If he does, why does it not feel as good and magical as it's supposed to? Why isn't his heart full of sunshine and butterflies like it should be, and why does thinking about it leave him nauseated and dizzy? He remembers those rare, lonely nights in a room as a tiny boy just wishing someone would hear him crying after a nightmare, come through the door and hold him until he felt safe enough to fall back asleep. Now he has people willing to offer as much at the slightest hint he might want it, and all he wants to do in response is shrink away.

He feels like he's done something wrong - he doesn't belong here! This isn't his family. They left him behind a long time ago. He isn't their son or their brother. He can't replace Touya.

He frowns at the memory of Touya's picture in the family butsudan. It was surreal at how different the feelings and memories of the boy was among members of the family, and he felt so out of place that despite technically having met that person the boy in the photo was a complete stranger. He never told the family he overheard their conversations about not knowing whether or not to take it down the photo or to keep performing the daily rituals after truth about Dabi came to light.

God help him, he really doesn't belong here.

But they want him there, don't they? He's not quite sure why - he just started showing up because of business; but eventually that became pleasure instead. Now they don't want him to leave. He also doesn't want to leave. What a mess.

"Just stay." The little voice in his head gently prods him. "This is ok. It's not bad."

He has a quick flashback to being little again and testing out his writing lessons by spelling out "Todoroki Keigo" in secret on a piece of scrap paper. Ugh, he wishes he could fold himself into a tiny piece of paper and float away on the breeze - how embarrassing. He also can't help but wonder what that same little boy would think if he knew what he knows now about the Todoroki household.

"But it's not like that anymore. They're happy. You're happy."

"Not completely." He allows himself to answer out loud, to dispell the lie. He thinks about the grimace on Natsuo's face whenever his father came up in conversation. He thinks of the tiny ticks of each family member used to things being a different way - a bad way - as they try to adjust to a new reality. Flinches, held breathes, increased heart rates - even those with the best poker faces can't hide that from him.

"That family won't ever be able to go back to the way it was."

It was quiet for a while, with just the ambient hum of the city outside his window for a backdrop when the voice spoke up again.

"...Maybe that's why they want you to stay."

He blinks. They're not the same. He's different from them, and maybe it is easier for them to be ok with that because... they're also trying to be different?

He's not sure what he's trying to tell himself, but something kind of makes sense in it. Maybe it's not a matter of him fitting into something old the way it used to be because what they're attempting to change into isn't the old thing anymore. Maybe they're not trying to fit him into an old spot to fill something that's now empty. Maybe they're making a new one for him so there's room for him to be there.

It still doesn't do anything to answer the question he's afraid to ask: why him?

He hates that question. He hates every time he has to ask it. It's never a good reason. He's either the default or the last resort. It's never been a good thing.

It's quiet again. He closes his eyes and lets the answer fly away unanswered.

"... Because they like you."

His eyes suddenly open. They like him? Well, sure, everyone likes him - even grudgingly. He makes it a point to be liked or to be enjoyable to hate. But... They do like him, don't they?

Recent memories fly into his head. Shared jokes and heckles. Smiles. Concerned gazes. Rosy cheeks and empty sake bottles around the kotatsu. Words of encouragement, admiration, and appreciation. Not remembering falling asleep after dinner but waking up to a blanket draped around his shoulders.

Maybe... Maybe they do like him.

"I don't want to go away."

God, not the water works. He screws his eyes shut at the prick in the corners of his eyes.

"I want to stay."

He can't stop the images of each Todoroki and their preferred ways to address him. Whenever Endeavor used to address him before it was short and terse; but, "Hawks" always had a note of warmth in it these days. His relationship with Rei was cold and professional at first, but now when she called to him, it was so soothing to hear knowing it came accompanied with a welcome into her home. The way Fuyumi used his name to scold him at his antics was the exact same she used for her brothers. It may have started ironically, but Natsuo refers to him almost exclusively as "Aniki" at this point, and now even Shouto occasionally says it long after the joke is over.

He takes slow, steady breathes to even himself out again and keep the tears from falling. He isn't about to call all of them liars. They don't have a reason to lie to him. They mean it when they tell him that they consider him family.

"I'm so sorry if we ever made you uncomfortable," Cool hands cup his as he recollects earlier that night, "...and it would be understandable given what you've been through. I can only hope you believe me when I say that our home is your home, and you will always be welcomed like family here because..."

"Please, I want to see them again."

Ok.

Maybe he's not ready to completely jump into this. It still feels too much like a fantasy to be real yet. He doesn't want to run away, either, though. This is something he's only dreamed of having his whole life, even if it feels overwhelming in the moment. For now, he'll just go back and take it slow. He can't necessarily pretend nothing happened, but he does want to embrace that it has even it he just has to take it one day at a time.

He can't help but give a chuckle.

Todoroki Keigo, huh?

[thebeebi]

The promise pt. 4

pairing: Namjoon x reader, ft. Yoongi

warning: disturbing, violence, yandere themes, a bit of fluff, possessiveness, smut (in the future) and swearing, more will be added in the future

genre: fantasy, modern

word count:  1.9k+ [part 4]

a/n: Hello, hello! I posting this a bit later because I almost choked on McD. Well there goes 4 months of dieting and eating healthy. Well enough about me. I just gotta say this part will end with something cool. And by something, I mean Min Yoongi, because he is cool. Anyways, enjooooy ♥ 

taglist: @thisisval​

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3

He wanted to keep his promise even if it meant to get blood on his hands. He would do anything for her. But was that really what she wanted?

Namjoon was angry. How dare she?! The visions of Y/N and Yoongi being intimate kept on flooding his mind even after he left her alone. He knew he hurt her. He knew he broke her heart but the idea of Y/N possibly loving anyone else than him was too scary. Made him furious. After all he did for her. He killed his own parents just so she could be happy. He did everything the book told him to do, to make her eternally happy. He slit the throat of his own father for her. He stabbed the silver dagger into his mother’s heart just so he could make Y/N happy. How dare she?! He killed his own best friend just because he started hanging out with Y/N. He killed Hoseok just because he smiled at Y/N. Namjoon killed everyone who showed a bit of emotion for Y/N and he was willing to kill anyone else, as long it would make Y/N happier. He kicked the door to his room and headed towards the nightstand to throw around all the decorations Y/N put there. He went around his room to find all the things she gave him just to throw them on the floor and step on them. He was panting, but still ready to find more things. He looked at the pocket watch Y/N gave him for his birthday which was calmly laying on the shelf above the fireplace. When he wanted to walk to grab it, he was interrupted by the cracking sound of glass. He looked below his feet just to see himself standing on the photo of him and Y/N. Namjoon moved his feet from the photo frame and reached down to pick up the photo which was poking out of the broken frame. He stared at the photo which was the cause for everything.

Flashback…

A loud rumble of thunder woke Namjoon up from his sleep. He looked out of the window to see the night sky being lit up from time to time. The sound of strong rain filled his mind as he rubbed his eyes until suddenly they opened wide and his head snapped towards the door. Namjoon was thinking about the person who slept in the bed right across the hall. He slid down the mattress, making his way out of the door. His steps were quiet, trying to not wake up the entire household. He tip-toed towards Y/N’s room, wanting to check up on her. When Namjoon opened the heavy door, he could hear Y/N whimpered in her sleep. Once again, she was dreaming about the same thing. That nightmare had been slipping into her calm nights whenever the storm started. He sat close to her on the bed gently moving hair that had been sticking to her sweaty forehead. “Everything is alright, Y/N.“ He whispered and took the sleeping girl into his embrace. “It’s alright, I am here.“ He kept on repeating trying to calm her down. Namjoon could feel the tense from her body slowly vanishing. He kissed the top of her head as he exhaled harshly. Once he was sure Y/N was alright, he started drifting off but a familiar voice woke him up. “Please... don’t do that!“ He heard her many times begging someone in her dream to not do that. At first, he thought it was just an ordinary nightmare, but after so many sleepless nights during the stormy season, he knows it was no ordinary dream. He asked Y/N many times what was the nightmare about but she never remembered it. Namjoon knew her since childhood but never knew there would be any problem in her family other than her alcoholic father. He closed his eyes trying to listen to the raindrops but opened them immediately feeling Y/N shift in her sleep. “Joonie?“ She asked innocently hugging the older male around the waist burying her face closer. “What are you doing he-?” Before she could ask the question, she saw the room being lit up by the lightning. Y/N sighed and knew right away what was going on. “…again” She whispered. “Maybe I should see someone.”

End of flashback…

Namjoon’s thoughts were interrupted by the loud thunder. The memories of the night when Y/N got another of her nightmares were slowly fading away as he looked at the door. He was worried but at the same time relieved that she no longer had them. They fixed it. Well, Namjoon did. He told to the hypnotist to get rid of Y/N’s nightmares. Now he knew what haunted her and he did not want Y/N to remember it nor find it out. Namjoon hid his face into the palms and swiftly rubbed it in frustration. He regretted telling Y/N to stop whoring around the moment it escaped his lips but back then he reasoned with himself, that for sure she let Yoongi touch her. Let Yoongi touch something that belonged to him. No, she would not do it. You just overreacted. You know she loves you. Namjoon reasoned with himself and sighed. He knew Y/N loved him yet he lost control. He wanted to resist her. For the past few years, Namjoon wanted to kiss Y/N but he always resisted. He knew later it would feel so much better. Later when he would finally fulfil his promise. But tonight he lost control. Not that he regretted kissing her lips. Hell no, but Namjoon wanted Y/N to feel special. She might have if he only did not ruin it by his stupid act. He stood up ready to go to Y/N’s room to apologize.

Y/N was slowly walking towards her room wondering what happened. All they did was a simple kiss. A simple heated kiss that has gone a bit further than friendship allows. She was confused. Whoring around? Y/N scoffed at Namjoon’s remark as she closed the door behind herself. She walked toward the cabinet and took out the key that she had never used before. She walked again to the door to lock it. She was confused, mad and determined to not let Namjoon enter her room. Not after what he did. She saved her first kiss for her first love wanting for it to be special. And special it was until he opened his mouth and his harsh words shattered her soft heart. Not that she hated him for that but Y/N was definitely not ready to hear that from the man she loved all her life. A loud thunder made her look out of the window. All she saw was the sky being lit up. She wanted to walk towards the source of the daylight to pull a curtain, but a soft knock halted her steps. She knew it was Namjoon. Y/N backed into the door to lean on it, ready to listen to everything he had to say. Even if she was mad, Y/N knew one word from him would make her legs weak. When she heard the sound of Namjoon holding the handle, she put her hand on the key, making sure she locked it right. Y/N could hear Namjoon sigh but was not entirely sure if she wanted to forgive him that easily. “What do you want?“ she tried asking calmly making sure that Namjoon would hear her question. “I want to apologize, princess. Let me in,“ she knew why he came, Y/N knew Namjoon would not be mad for long. Even if he told her such things, Y/N was sure there was a proper reason for his reaction. Her Joonie would not do that to her. He still loves me. She smiled as she turned the key to unlock the door, opened them a little as she stepped back. It was a cue for Namjoon to walk inside of her room.

He wrapped his arms around her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. “I am so sorry, princess,” he whispered in Y/N’s ear and hugged her tighter. Y/N grabbed the side of his shirt and pulled herself closer, even though it was not really possible anymore. “Joon,“ she spoke softly. “you shouldn’t have said that. Did you know that you stole my first kiss?“ Y/N hit his hip. Namjoon stunned by the sudden announcement but glad that he was her first. Just as she was his. He let go of the short girl and messed up her hair laughing. “I didn’t steal it. I simply gave you something your eyes” he held Y/N by the cheek as he ran his thumb softly over Y/N’s eyelid “...and your lips“ he continued as the thumb slid down to Y/N’s lips “wanted.“ He pulled his hand away once Y/N parted her lips while looking at him. When his arm swung back, Y/N took his hand and pulled him towards the sofa. “We need to talk, Joon.“ She said as she pushed a bigger man to sit down while she found her place next to him. Namjoon sighed and was about to reply when Y/N looked down. “Joon, is that blood?” he followed the direction of her eyes and looked at his shirt which he did not change after wiping the blood from his palm into it. Fuck.

Yoongi stood still seeing Namjoon pulling Y/N’s hand. As always.Yoongi closed the front door and walked inside his house. He pulled the diary which he hid before he opened the door for Y/N and opened it on the last page. He read it once again and then pulled out a pencil to mark important information.Plague. Disappearance. Y/N. Namjoon. Forest.“ Hmm,” Yoongi hummed as he made more circles around Namjoon’s name, the word forest and stared intensively on the part where it is written that back then people kept on disappearing. What if…Yoongi started internally talking to himself trying to put pieces by pieces. “What if Ms Y/L/N did not get sick because of the plague but it was something else? What if she just wanted to protect Y/N and left.” He reasoned nodding at first but then shook his head. “After Ms Y/L/N disappeared only my dad died and no one else disappeared. But after so many years, the disappearances started happening again.” He squeezed part of his nose between his eyes and exhaled frustrated. “What about the forest, though? There is for sure a reason why my father wrote it down.” He closed the diary and pushed it further from him and scratched the back of his neck. “I guess I need to go to the library to look into history books of our village and see if there are any mentions of disappearance and the forest.” He stood up from his chair wanting to walk out of the house, only to hear the loud rumble of the thunder. He sighed and opened the door. He walked out, trying to cover himself so the heavy raindrops will not soak him soon. He walked towards the centre of the village, passing by the bakery and a little tavern, that was busy as always. After all people in it did not care whether there was rain or sun outside, as long as they had drinks. Yoongi crossed the street to walk on the stairs of the library just to find out it was already closed.Looks like my research has to wait till tomorrow.He thought as he turned around to walk back but stopped in the middle of the street just to look at the tavern again.Would they talk if they were drunk enough?Yoongi remembered all the times when people started avoiding him just because he asked about the dark forest. After all, a drunk mind speaks a sober heart. And with that Yoongi opened the door to the place he thought he would never visit.

a/n I think I will have to put this story on hold. I AM SO SORRY. There are 2 reasons for that. I have to figure out this whole circle I created. (Because I know what I want there, I just do not know how to put it into words and I kinda want it to be mindblowing, which so far does not look like that.) Second and most important reason is that youtube removed my 45 minutes piano music thanks to which this story even started. I listen to that while writing this fic. I gotta find another one - preferably even darker. ♥ I will come back soon! Hopefully you will stay tuned for that. Thank you for all the love!

[katehuntington]

Title: Black Dog - part three Word count: ±2700 words Episode summary: When Sam gets an anonymous phone call with information about his father, Dean receives a text message with coordinates to different location. The brothers clash and split up, one following orders, the other   trusting his instincts. Meanwhile, in the wilderness of Cascade Range, Washington State, Zoë loses grip on a personal case and is forced to confront her demons. Without back up, this might very well turn out to be her final hunt. Part three summary: Two leads point into different directions. Which one are the Winchester brothers going to follow? Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and  medical procedures. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Swearing, smoking, weaponry. Descriptions of  torture and murder. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Descriptions of suicidal thoughts and tendencies, depression, panic attacks, hallucinations. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09​​​ & @deanwanddamons​​​​. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E03 “Black Dog” Masterlist

     Dean gives his Chevrolet Impala a final clean up and looks at the end result.      Ronny nods satisfied, too. “Good as new.”      They mechanics carefully beat out the small dent in the lid and restored the paint with a polisher. The lock of the trunk took some time to replace, but now it closes perfectly. 

     “Thanks, man,” Dean says gratefully, offering him some money for the work.      “Any time. Put that away. I owe you Winchesters more than that,” Ronny reminds him. “Sure you guys don’t want a beer?”      Dean hesitates, but then shakes his head. “I’d love to catch up, but we should get going. The world isn’t rid of all evil motherfuckers just yet.”      Ronny chuckles at that. “Fair enough. Good to see you again, though.”      “You too. Take care, Ron,” the oldest Winchester brother returns.

     The ex-hunter retreats back into his garage, and Dean glances at the trunk for the second time and smiles satisfied. He’s glad he got it fixed. The clunking sound every time they hit a pothole was driving him crazy, and with enough arsenal for a small military operation inside, he wasn’t really keen on leaving it unlocked either. 

     As he takes a look around the abandoned street, he realizes he’s missing the tall individual that usually occupies the passenger’s seat. Where the hell did Sam go? Instinctively, Dean scans the area, uneasiness evident in his stomach, a sensation which arises ever since he was a kid, whenever he loses sight of his little brother. Then he spots him a bit further down the road. He’s on the phone with someone, and for a second he wonders if it’s Zoë he’s having a conversation with.

     Waiting for his brother to return, he leans against his car, shoving his hands in his pockets. The sun feels nice and warm on his back as it burns away the coolness of the night. Now that he has nothing to do for a moment, his thoughts sneak off. He doesn’t like it one bit, but he can’t help but think of the huntress they crossed paths with a little under a week ago. He may pretend that he doesn’t give a shit, but he has to admit that she has been on his mind more than a couple of times. Not that he likes her, fuck no, but Sullivan left an impression that has him wondering. She has been through more in the twenty-five years that she has walked this earth than most endure in an entire lifetime. Maybe that is why he deep down cares; he can relate to her.

     Dean exhales, not dwelling too long on the reason behind the intrigue. Instead, he wonders if Sam’s presumption is actually true. The fierce Zoë Sullivan being in deep shit; he can barely picture it. She always seems in control, even when things don't go as planned. She caught him off guard. He, Dean Winchester, can you fuckin’ believe that? The older Winchester sibling rolls his harmed shoulder, testing its mobility. She shot me, for fuck’s sake. 

     Even though he has been in the field longer than she has, Zoë seems to expertly know her way around the world of monsters that is their reality. She’s a bright girl, skilled, fast, fearless. She has every aspect of a perfect hunter. But after those last words back in Paragould, he was left with the impression that the battle she was going towards, is one she didn’t expect to win. It truly felt like a final goodbye. A disturbing question pops up in his head; did he make a mistake not going after her? The two guys they saved from a werewolf in Waco probably don’t think so. 

     Dean stares ahead, pulling at his bottom lip with his teeth while contemplating his choices. Maybe they should go after her anyway, see if they can pick up her trail. North is indeed a big place, but then again, a hot chick on a Harley Davidson would stand out. It’s a long shot, but if they play this right, they may be able to find her. 

     The matter escapes his mind when he feels his phone vibrating, the buzzing device startling him slightly. Somewhat annoyed by his own reflex, the hunter takes his Motorola and notices the small icon of an envelope in the right upper corner; he has received a text message. It’s probably Erin, his hook up back in Waco, who had to wake up alone this morning. She must be wondering where the man she met in a bar three days prior has gone. But when Dean opens his inbox, his eyes widen in shock. 

     At the top of the list of incoming messages, it says ‘Dad’.

     Dean’s heart has picked up speed, now pounding twice as fast than it was seconds ago. Last time he checked, his father’s phone was inactive, and now there’s a message coming in from that number? Different scenarios flash through his mind, not sure if he should prepare for good or bad news. With shaky fingers, he opens the text.

     Job: 48°13’11.00”N 121°41’4045”W

     Dean exhales, still staring at his cell. He can’t fucking believe it. John disappeared from the face of the earth, nowhere to be found, and after all this time he sent a few numbers and letters. The older Winchester brother huffs out a laugh. It doesn’t matter, though. Relief frees Dean from the crippling worry that he has tried to stuff down for over a month now, but kept him up at night nonetheless. This text confirms what he’s been hoping for; Dad is alive.

     Thrilled, Dean turns around and glances down the street, noticing Sam, who hastens towards the car. He can’t wait to share the news, knowing they have both been so desperate for a breakthrough. 

     “We’ve gotta go,” they both say at the same time.      “Me first,” Dean demands, childish.      “What are you? Seven?” Sam huffs, raising an eyebrow to match with the sass. Despite his accusation, he counters in the same manner. “What I’ve just heard is bigger.”      “Bigger than this?” Dean brags while flashing a grin, victoriously handing his brother the Motorola.

     Curiosity wins and Sam takes it, attentively reading the message. His eyes narrow, but then his jaw falls open when he realizes who the sender is. John’s youngest son isn’t impressed, though. In fact, what shows on the display infuriates him. 

     “That’s it?” he scoffs, agitated, giving the phone back to his brother. “After a month of silence, that’s what he gives us?”      “Sam, don’t you realize what this means? He’s okay!” Dean brings to mind. “Don’t bitch about this.”      “Just because he’s able to send us a text message, doesn’t mean that he’s okay. We’re not even sure it’s him!” Sam returns bitterly.      “Oh, come on. This is so Dad. One word and coordinates, that’s straight up Marine Corps right there. It’s more convincing than his fuckin’ signature,” the older brother argues.

     “And what the hell are we supposed to do with this? Trust him blindly and do a job he can’t find the time for because he’s hunting whatever the thing is that killed Mom?” Sam assumes, his arms flying up before he lets them come down to his sides again.      “Exactly,” Dean states, matter of factly. “Don’t you see, Sam? This is what I’ve been telling you. He doesn’t want to be found, he wants us to hunt.”

     Dean opens the passenger side door and rummages in the dashboard locker. When he straightens his back, he pulls out a brown notebook; it’s John’s journal.      “This book. This is dad’s single most valuable possession. Everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. He could’ve taken it with him, but he didn’t. He’s passed it on to us.” Dean looks deep into his brother's eyes while he points at the leather bound book that is the representation of the Bible to the Winchesters. “Dad’s journal, the text... Dad is telling us he wants us to do what we were trained for.”

     “You know what I want? I want to find him,” Sam returns determined, handing back the phone.      “And how the fuck were you planning to achieve that, huh?” Dean returns.      “I don’t need a plan, I already know where he is,” the younger brother states.

     Puzzled, Dean stares at him, waiting for an explanation. There has been zero contact between their old man and Sam for years,  and now all of a sudden he has figured out where John is at?      “How?” he questions, suspicion rising.      “I just received a call. He’s in Tennessee. In Nashville to be precise,” his sibling states.      Dean frowns. “A call? From who?”

     The shrug of Sam’s shoulders is nonchalant. “I think she might be a hunter or something.”      “She? Does this mystery lady have a name?” Dean questions further, trying to get details while frustration bubbles in his chest, triggered by his brother’s short answers.      “She didn’t give it, but it doesn’t matter. We’re going to Tennessee,” Sam decides.

     Dean laughs out loud, dropping the journal on the passenger’s seat before he turns away. Then he returns to glare at Sam as if he just made a joke.      “You wanna go to fucking Nashville based on an anonymous call? Did the sun fry your brain or something? This could be a fucking trap, Sam!” Dean shouts, indignant.      But his sibling is determined. “I don’t care. If he’s there, I’m going.” 

     Dean steps closer and halts right in front of him. He has to look up to stare into the eyes of his taller brother, but that doesn’t make him any less intimidating. 

     “Dad has given us an order,” he growls, his words spoken in a low tone.      “I said: I. don’t. care,” Sam battles him.      “Well I do, you stubborn dumbass!” Dean counters with a raised voice. “What you are planning to do is fucking dangerous! Dad doesn’t want you on his tail, you’ll blow his cover!”

     “You’re calling me a dumbass?! Dad is after an incredibly powerful monster by himself, alone! He’s the dumbass for not accepting our help! We already lost Mom, I lost Jess, I’m not going to lose him too. I want answers, I want a piece of that son of a bitch that ruined our lives and I want it right fucking now! If Dad doesn’t want me there, that’s his problem!” Sam shouts angrily.

     “You’re going against him?” Dean isn’t impressed with the outbreak, and slightly shakes his head. “Oh right, I forgot. That’s what you always do; the exact opposite of what he asks!”  he continues cynically.      “He doesn’t ask. He orders,” his brother corrects. “And you follow those orders like a fucking lapdog.”      “It doesn’t matter how he tells us what to do, Sam! He’s our God damn father, so you better suck it up and fucking LISTEN!!!”

     Dean is sure one of Ronny’s neighbors is going to emerge from one of the houses, telling them to shut up and take this argument elsewhere, instead of fighting it out in the middle of the street. He doesn’t care, however. His little brother has forgotten his place, and he needs to set him straight.

     “I do whatever the hell he tells me to do because I trust him, because I respect him, which is something I’m gonna strongly advise you to do as well, because your attitude fucking stinks,” Dean lectures, his moss green eyes penetrating, fire burning in his irises. “Now get in the fucking car, because we’re going to drive to wherever those coordinates lead us to.”

     Puffing his chest while straightening his back to make himself seem even taller, Sam crosses his arms. His older sibling might think he has all the authority, but he’s not a little kid anymore who he can boss around. Those days are long gone. He thought his departure to Stanford taught Dean a lesson or two, but apparently he needs to remind his brother that he plays by his own rules, and no one else's.      “I’m not going with you,” he decides, standing his ground.

     For a moment, Dean just stares at him, giving him a second to reconsider that conclusion, but Sam doesn’t even blink. Their gazes battle, the air between them almost too thick to breathe, rivalry carving a deep canyon between the two.      “I’m gonna give you a choice,” Dean snarls. “You can come with me and solve that case, or you can go fuck yourself.”

     Sam gulps, but stands his ground. His facial expression doesn’t change as he steps back, away from his brother, and heads over to the back of the Impala without breaking eye contact, until he opens the trunk to grab his duffel. The glare Dean receives when he slams the lid closed says enough; he’s not coming along for the ride. 

     Stunned, Dean stares at him and huffs in disbelief. Un-fucking-believable. He has always known Sam was stubborn, but now he takes the cake. Disappointed, the older brother shakes his head. This is the second time Sam has chosen a different path and leaves him without even batting an eye, but it scares Dean just as much as when he left and went to college. He’s not alright with what he’s about to do, but he can’t give in. He has to listen to his father.      Frustratingly, he pulls open the door of the Impala. “Goodbye, Sam.”

     Trying to hide his unpleasant surprise, the man left in the road watches him. He didn’t expect this, Dean taking off without him, but then again, how could he not expect a soldier to follow orders from his general? It doesn’t change anything, though. He is dead set on investigating this lead and finding his father.

     The man who is about to put a distance between himself and the one person he swore to never part with again, glances in the rearview mirror. He wishes he hadn’t, because the coldness in Sam’s hazel eyes seems foreign, yet familiar. As Dean starts the engine, he realizes he is either having a major deja-vu, or is reliving one of the worst days of his life. Despite the painful pressure that’s building in his chest and the panic that floods his brain, he lowers his right foot on the gas pedal, and the car rolls away. He doesn’t drive off as fast as he normally would, because he’s fighting the urge to turn around. Pained, he glances in his mirror again.      “C’mon, Sam. Move,” he begs.

     But Sam doesn’t even lift a finger, and he remains in the exact same spot. Then he does move, but not in the way Dean hoped. His little brother turns his back on him and heads towards downtown Hillsboro, in the opposite direction.

With a deep sigh, Dean shakes his head, clamping his left hand around the wheel until his knuckles turn white.       “Stubborn bastard,” he sighs.

     His jaw clenches, as West Elm Street flows over in Route 22 and the landscape around him changes. Small homes and sheds make room for stretched out farmlands. But he doesn’t notice the scenery. His conscience is fighting his heart. He wants to hit the brakes and pull the car into a 180° so badly, but he has to listen to his father. Never in his life has Dean done anything else than that, disobedience not being a word one could find in his dictionary. Yet in this situation, both of the options are pitfalls. It doesn’t matter which way he goes, he will make a mistake either way. Because the one line that his father drilled in his mind over and over again keeps haunting him. 

     Take care of Sammy. 

     He grinds his teeth, but continues to drive further and further away, his upbringing leaving him no choice. The hunter has made his decision; he’s going to find the location of those coordinates and do the job his Dad has given him. He knows what he’s doing, he’s just hoping Sam does too, because if something happens to his little brother, Dean knows he will never be able to forgive himself.

Well, shit. The boys have gone separate ways. Who do you think will find what he’s looking for?

Thank you so much for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you  do want to give me some extra love, you are free to reblog my work or  buy me coffee (Link in bio at the top of the page)

Read part four here

[stereden]

Author commentary: THE BOYS FINALLY BREAKING DOWN IN SHANKS CABIN PLEASE AND THANK YOU

One of my all time favourite scenes and also one of the ones where I made myself cry writing it xD

Buggy’s breakdown had been planned from the very first moment Buggy appeared at Marineford: even without that particular clusterfuck, Buggy had just spent months in Impel Down with no news of his crew, then had to deal with the nerve wracking experience that is Monkey D. Luffy and the escape of Impel Down itself, which, honestly, would be enough to give any reasonable person a nervous breakdown (hence why it had no effect whatsoever on Luffy)

But then came Marineford, and with it multiple triggers and aggravating factors for Buggy.

Psychological/emotional factors, first: having all these escaped prisoners look to him for leadership; the realisation that his captain had had a kid and never told them; the realisation that the Rogers gathered to save the kid but couldn’t be bothered to come and save him; the setting, much too reminiscent to Loguetown and Roger’s death; a kid being held responsible for his father’s sins; the emotional toll of having oversensitive Haki and being in the middle of the biggest battlefield ever, bigger even than Edd War had been; seeing the Rogers again for the first time since Roger’s death; seeing Crocus again, with everything that happened there; being alone until Rockstar makes it there; being terrified of being recognised and hunted down again; the parallels between Roger’s death and Newgate’s attempt at going out in a blast of glory while allowing his kids to escape

Add in the physical factors: a battlefield full of giants on both side; Devil fruits aplenty rewriting the laws of physics; too much noise; too many smells; the very buildings being liable to collapse at any moment because of Devil Fruit fuckery; Buggy’s own physical state being... very not good after Impel Down; Buggy being very aware of just how small a fish he is compared to everyone else there...

Buggy’s breakdown was sealed in stone long before he decided to step in between Akainu and his prey - that part just made it even worse than it would have been. Add in Sengoku targetting him, then Blackbeard getting a bit too interested, and the fact that Buggy didn’t have a panic attack right there and then is a testament to his survival instincts, honestly.

Now Shanks, Shanks on the other hand would have been mostly fine if Buggy hadn’t been in danger. It sounds callous, putting it like this, but it’s definitely Buggy’s role in it that pushed him over the edge. Sure, he would have been very worried about Luffy, and probably would have had a heart attack or ten, but he would be nowhere as badly off as he was with Buggy in the middle of things - and, he would probably have been even more worried but a lot less on the edge of a flashback himself if it hadn’t been broadcasted. 

Because this whole thing, this is way too similar to what happened to them when they were kids and being hunted down by Roger’s enemies. Having Buggy be in danger, be hurt while Shanks can do nothing but watch, is the worst form of torture, a reminder of those years they got separated and Buggy went through hell without Shanks being there to help him. And, unlike with Luffy where he can at least somewhat trust that Newgate’s people won’t let the reckless brat die on them, if only for Ace’s sake... He has no such assurances in Buggy’s case, with the exception of Rockstar, who he couldn’t be sure had made it to Marineford until he showed up on the screen. Until he saw Rockstar, he had absolutely zero assurance that someone out there was watching Buggy’s back. Worse, he knows Buggy is this close to a breakdown and has no guarantee that he’ll be able to keep it at bay until Shanks can get there. And then Buggy, who’s not exactly a crack shot with a gun, is suddenly facing a rampaging Akainu with only a gun in hand, and he somehow manages the perfect shot, but then Sengoku is about to attack him and then Blackbeard, and yeah, no, that does it, Shanks is done with everything.

Now on to the breakdown proper (after six huge paragraphs of what led to the breakdown itself xD)

It was very important for me that the breakdown take place privately, in a space that feels safe for both of them: so, of course, it had to happen in Shanks’ cabin. Not only is it isolated and you would have to go through every single Akagami + Force and Speed in order to get to them, this is a space that is basically infused with Shanks presence, which would have a soothing and comforting effect for Buggy.

They both really, really needed a hug, so of course that’s the first thing that happens in that scene. Physical reassurrance that the other is real, is here and alive. 

It was also important that, while Shanks was also on edge and about to have his own breakdown, Buggy had his first: he’d been pretending to be fine for too long, but now his mask is breaking, and Shanks has already proven himself to be very, very good at pushing his own breakdown aside to care for those he loves (see: Smiling at Luffy and comforting him despite just getting his entire arm bitten off by a giant seamonster). And Shanks, objectively, has been through less, emotionally and physically speaking, than Buggy, and the best way for Shanks to help himself right now is to help Buggy.

The shower scene just had to happen, because I’m a sucker for someone crying fully clothed in the shower and someone else stepping in to comfort them scenes. 

The fact that they maintain physical contact during the entire scene is very much deliberate. They are both very much codependent and tend to touch all the time whenever they meet up, but this is compounded by Buggy having just spent months alone in an unsafe environment where any touch meant pain. Buggy is very much touchstarved, and also needs the grounding effect of Shanks’ touch to prevent himself from spiralling or dissociating. In return, Shanks very much needs the reassurance that Buggy is right there, alive and breathing despite everything that happened.

Same for the sleep schedule and nightmares: it’s in part a return to habits they got while on the run (one sleeping, one keeping watch for enemies, which also means someone being there to wake you up if you’re having a nightmare) and also a way to help each other through the nightmares that they’re both going to have for a long time after this mess.

I’m also a sucker for non-sexual intimacy, so that added to that part as well.

The thing is, while both of them have crews that they love and who love them right back, and who can and do support them and help them as much as they can, the fact remain that, most of the time, the only person that can really help them is each other. It’s not just the shared past and shared trauma, though that plays a role as well; it’s also a matter of a. unconditional trust and b. their position as equal vs their position as captain over their own crews. Even if they’re not too big on authority and hierarchy within their own crews, the fact remains that their nakama are their responsabilities and they don’t want to burden them with their problem or feel like their crew needs to protect them when it’s their jobs to protect their crews.

(And also, maybe, not wanting their crews to go on a murder spree on their behalf, but that’s another matter entirely)

So the only person they can really go to when they reach their limit is each other, but because of circumstances (cough cough Garp throwing a tantrum cough cough) they hadn’t been able to see each other in person in over three years. Denden calls help, but they’re not the same. So it’s not just Impel Down and Marineford and seeing the Rogers that just hit them, it’s also over three years without seeing each other and being able to help each other through memories and nightmares both.

One of the things I really wanted to get through with this scene is that there’s no shame in having emotions, nor in expressing them - expressing your emotions is healthy! No toxic mascuilinity here, no sire! Not expressing them in a situation where it could be dangerous is one thing, but you are allowed to be vulnerable and need help and ask for it.

This is probably a much longer commentary than you expected haha but I hope you enjoyed it!