#Teacupcollectors

[morimatea]

The ultimate unique artistic charm, exquisite craftsmanship, and flawless beauty.

[foreverindreamlandd]

Hello! I would love an 🧣no context ship if that's okay! I am currently in college and majoring in history! I hope to become an Ancient History Professor! I hope I did this right haha. I love your work and hope you have a lovely holiday!

You did amazing sweetie LOL this is perfect!

I ship you with Namor!

He's also a lover of history, and he loves going with you to different museums on the weekends, the two of you admiring different artifacts, his chin resting on your shoulder as the two of you read the text below each item.

I can also imagine many study sessions in the library that end up being a giggly makeout session deep within the stacks. ;)

Winter Wonderland Sleepover!

[sant-riley]

[Ghost x fem!reader blurb]

this is for the girlies who can't drive for shit and don't have their license <3 it's me. I'm girly.

Notes: Extremely short, about 400-500 words, She/her pronouns aren't used but he does call you girl. Use of the nickname "Runt." No established relationship. Lmk if I missed anything!

~

"You know I can drive right?" You murmured, looking up from your phone as you sat on the passenger side.

Ghost was rubbing his nose bridge, sighing heavily at the traffic on the road.

He was slouched back in his seat, legs spread wide in his seat as his eyes closed forcibly. It was a treat to see him in civilian clothing, a real one.

A small part of you hummed with contentment knowing you were one of the very few to get to see him like this often.

You two were the off base for a week-long break, choosing to spend it together as you both usually did. It was too much hassle to head back home on your end and Ghost enjoyed your company.

It wasn't rare to see the pair of you get back to base together and return as well. You had worried about what the others could say but that was quickly silenced when Ghost shot a glance at you with a look of "I don't give a fuck." which silenced your worries.

Snapping out of your running thoughts, You swore you could hear the creak of his neck twisting towards you, Simon's eyes snapping open and looking at you incredulously.

"What? No." He turned his head back to the road, inching the truck closer to the light. You could see his eyes roll too.

"You don't look like you want to, so let me." Rolling your eyes in return, moving to undo your seatbelt so you could do a quick swap as the light was red.

"Runt, no." A big hand covered your hand, pushing your own away, leaving as soon as it was there.

"And why not?" You raise an eyebrow, narrowing your eyes.

"For starters, you're a shit driver in the states, can't imagine you driving here in Manchester." He stated it was a fact. He shrugged like y'all were talking about the weather. Fucker.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean-" You stuttered, huffing as he doubted you. He wasn't wrong but did he have to fucking phrase it like that?

Ghost couldn't help the smirk growing on his face at your pout, letting out a low chuckle.

"It means what it means, runt. Second of all, it's not your job." He poked fun at you, licking his lips under his mask as he focused his eyes back on the road.

"What the fuck does that mean, 'my job?' Don't tell me you're playing stereotypes on me."

You grumbled, crossing your arms as you stared out the window, watching the people on the sidewalks.

"No, don't be stupid." He should be offended, to think you'd say that but to be fair, he couldn't blame you.

"Okay so tell me!" The whine left your lips, staring at his side profile, puffing your chest as you tried to get him to meet your eyes with his own.

"Pretty girls don't drive, simple as that."

His huge hand patted your thigh, sending a shiver down your spine as you felt the blood rush to your face.

All he could do was snicker as he stepped on the gas pedal, his hand warming your skin as he drove.

Taglist:

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess

@stupid-ninja @milkmily

@lune-la-chanson @tamayakii

@teacupcollector @perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains

@marsbar127xx @baddump

@xncasi @king-cookiex

@palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky @wolfyland07 @diejager

@hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol

@cluelessyasmin @sesshomaruwaifu @chaos-unchecked @kalamataolivesssss @arunasmisfortune @tbrfic

@117s-girl @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @sparrowwithaquill @justtiredandvibing

[outoftheseine]

- JOEL MILLER FIC RECS PART 2 -

forever in love with this grumpy old man <3 | note: please be aware of the authors’ warnings before reading. fics include canon tw’s like: violence, death, grief. most of these fics are age-gap relationship and some have 18+ content so minors please DNI.

part 1 | main masterlist

SERIES - MULTI-CHAPTERS

love in the middle of a fireflight | part 2 | part 3 • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @babydin

your bear | part 2 • joel miller x daughter!reader

↳ by @rrickgrrimes8 (very angsty, hurt/comfort)

a helping hand • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @teacupcollector

a lover's pinch • prof!joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @hier--soir (smut, au, angst, secret relationship)

i will be home for christmas • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @punkshort (no outbreak, fluff, smut, angst but happy ending, hurt/comfort)

lavender • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @justagalwhowrites

seeing you, seeing me • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @amywritesthings (slow burn, smut)

fate, after all • joel miller x f!oc!reader

↳ by @honeyedmiller (fluff, smut, no-outbreak)

ambush | part 2 • joel miller x reader

↳ by @huntergarrity (angst, violence, hurt/comfort)

seams • joel miller x reader

↳ by @fuckyeahdindjarin (self-conscious!joel, shy!reader, fluff, slow burn, explicit)

soft!joel collection • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @cavillscurls (smut, fluff, angst, soft and domestic!joel)

ONE-SHOTS - BLURBS - HC’S

daisy, give me an answer • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @dilf-din (fluff)

take this moment • joel miller x reader

↳ by @mylostloversbookmarks (post-outbreak, fluff)

ground me • joel miller x reader

↳ by @huntergarrity (fluff, comfort)

clouded judgement/clear mind • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @bluebeary-jay (violence, angst, hurt/comfort)

keep your eyes on me • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @mgparker (angst, violence, protective!joel)

daydreams • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @morning-star-joy (grumpy x sunshine, fluff)

i hope you are happy • joel miller x reader

↳ by @blissfulbarbie (very angsty, no outbreak)

grays • joel miller x reader

↳ by @softlyspector (domestic fluff, insecure!joel)

sweet creature • dad!joel miller x reader

↳ by @rocketrhap3000 (so fluffy)

lacy • joel miller x reader

↳ by @toxic-seduction (angst but happy ending)

bloodshed, crimson clover • joel miller x fem!doctor!reader

↳ by @morning-star-joy (slow burn, angst, violence)

arms tonite • joel miller x reader

↳ by @motherjoel (angst, reader gets hurt, happy ending)

skater • joel miller x platonic!gn!reader

↳ by @rrickgrrimes8 (angst, hurt/comfort, father figure!joel, tw: drowning)

be my daddy • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @bastardmandennis (no outbreak, smut, fluff, slightly angsty)

how the cookie crumbles • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @egcdeath (no outbreak, fake dating, slow burn, slight angst, fluff, idiots in love)

day after tomorrow • joel miller x reader

↳ by @familyvideostevie (no outbreak, fluff)

it’s your turn for choosing • joel miller x reader

↳ by @familyvideostevie (modern au, fluff)

i’m a feminist obviously • joel miller x reader

↳ by @toxic-seduction (protective!joel, violence)

softness • post outbreak!joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @joelsgreys (fluff, joel is a dad, tw: premature birth)

as long as i have you • jackson era!joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @beskarandblasters (very fluffy, slight angst)

sweetheart • post-outbreak!joel millet x fem!reader

↳ by @joels-shitty-puns (fluff, light angst)

are you mine? • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @eupheme (protective and soft!joel, fluff, light angst)

a forever thing • husband!joel miller x pregnant!wife!reader

↳ by @honeyedmiller (fluff)

the revenant wife • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @pettyprocrastination

butterfly • joel miller x black!latina!reader

↳ by @stargirlfics (angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, slow burn)

unlikely friends • joel miller x reader

↳ by @sweetercalypso (fluff)

mischief nights • joel miller x fem!reader

↳ by @jupiter-soups (fluff, slight angst)

all my casualties of love • joel miller x reader/oc

↳ by @agentmarcuspike (smut, grief)

a matter of timing • joel miller x baker!fem!reader

↳ by @lavenderursa (angst, smut, comfort, neighbours to lovers)

[robin-the-enby]

@yellowbunnydreams

@teacupcollector

@just-a-sleepy-idiot

My beautiful moots <333

i cannot emphasize how necessary it is to have a buddy to participate in fandom with. completely elevated experience. don't have a buddy? find someone you like and message them and be their friend. gush over every sketch and drabble and insane headcanon they have. live life to the fullest.

[shefancdotcom]

Check out this listing I just added to my Poshmark closet: Vintage Rare Delfa Windmill Mini Thimble & 2" Tea Cups Collectible Set.

[morimatea]

A very artistic hand painting.

[sant-riley]

[Ghost, Soap and Price when you ask them "would you get my name tattooed on you?"] headcanons

A/N: This is for fun, no one requested it but I love tattoos and I got some soooooo here we go!

A/N 2: this was started back in December lmfao whoops, anyways this is just some random thoughts .

Ghost:

Ghost is gonna either A) look at you like you're stupid as fuck or B) call you stupid as fuck for even asking if you two are not close.

However, you are close so he humors you, despite not saying a for sure yes or no.

"And why would I do that?"

"Because you love me~"

"You think I love you?" Dude is making heart eyes at you as y'all speak, he's full of shit.

You pester him and poke at his chest, telling him you want your name here or there and he just rolls his eyes when he lays on his back.

He makes grunts and snarky remarks like he'd cut the skin off and belly laughs when you pout and can't help but flick your forehead and say it wouldn't happen.

A liar, he's gonna get a tattoo to symbolize you, just not your name. In y'alls line of work it's too dangerous, he's a known soldier and he has a target on his back. Whatever hyperfixation you have, whatever special interest, is something he'd get inked on him, probably on the inside of his arm to keep it hidden.

He runs his fingers across it before and after a mission, even if you're there with him. It's a habit that he'll probably never break. (I'm imagining him with Optimus tattoo for me I'm crying)

Soap:

He's been waiting. He is absolutely saying yes. He's been thinking about it for awhile and has been designing in his little journal what fonts he would get.

You cannot tell me that this man wouldn't get his loved ones name on him bc he absolutely WOULD.

He doesn't care if it's bad luck to get your partners name on you, as far as he's concerned he's yours for as long as you'll have him and you both work together, been through hell together. He's sure of it if you are okay with it.

He's the guy to get your name over his heart 😭 probably also with some flowers/symbols that represent you around it as well.

He presents it to you all giddy and laughs loud when you throw your arms around his neck hugging him.

"You like it? Now you're stuck with me 'orever~" while he gives you kisses all over your face.

Soap proudly flaunts when he's shirtless, his dog tags and your name on his chest make him so egotistical (it's warranted he's so fucking hot)

Would be very happy if you were to get his name but would never pressure you, however if you were, he'd need to design it for you <3

Price:

Price is on the fence, he's not a tattoo man and never has been. But he loves you, more than he's ever loved anyone so it's a firm maybe.

It'll have to be a couple of years before he genuinely will sit down and consider it.

Wouldn't get your name but instead your initial, probably on the inside of his finger or on some easily hidden slice of skin.

You don't even fucking see it until months pass and he's changing.

"Oh that? Got it back on downtime between missions." Motherfucker.

He grumbles as you steal whatever limb it's on but he's happy you're so so ecstatic and he thinks the glowing smile you send him makes it worth it.

@devilsfoodcake22 @simon-rileys-princess @stupid-ninja @milkmily @lune-la-chanson @tamayakii @teacupcollector @perilous-pasta @ihatethisappsomuchitpains @marsbar127xx @baddump @xncasi @king-cookiex @palomaxaxaxa @amatchasky   @wolfyland07 @diejager @hailstrum18 @pretty-little-bunny382728 @mzfandom @solarslushee @areislol @cluelessyasmin @sesshomaruwaifu @chaos-unchecked @kalamataolivesssss @arunasmisfortune @tbrfics @117s-girl @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore @sparrowwithaquill @justtiredandvibing

[robin-the-enby]

@hinataashoyos @downrightembarassing @thewildsophia @wamulu-gorillaz @just-a-sleepy-idiot @teacupcollector @headoverhiddles @yanderepuck @scummy-writes <3333

to all the fic writers out there who have made 2021 bearable and have given us all countless hours of happiness and escapism, thank you so much

[yellowmarigold4]

Mug and Cheese Platter - Pastel Green

The yen for all things extraordinarily minimalist has taken up yet another tangible form – the Assorted Collection. Or to be precise, the Mugs and Cheese Platters on display.

Etched with complex yet beautiful artwork the platter has been paired with Mugs that come adorned with a pastel glaze and dotted line.

About the Product

Title: 3" Mug | 10.5” Cheese Platter | Assorted Collection

Material: Lead-free Ceramic

Color: Pastel Green

Head over to our website www.yellowmarigold.in (link in bio) or DM us.

•

[davidwfloydart]

Teacup succulent gardens ☕️ 🌱 *artist: unknown #teacuplovers #succulentlove #creativityfound #creativityeveryday #gardeningisfun #imaginationarts #imaginationiseverything #teacupcollectors #repurposing (at Catalina Foothills, Arizona) https://www.instagram.com/p/CWgXJgaP7fp_5GNyWYPGU2ABjk2pmWhYtp9khE0/?utm_medium=tumblr

[fluffykitty1999-blog]

Beautiful pink and blue flowered "rapture" teacup and saucer (set of 2). https://tinyurl.com/a9d2bnx9 #dynasty #rapture #fine #china #finechina #dynastyfinechina #teacup #teacups #sauced #saucers #teacuplover #teacuplovers #teacupcollector #teacupcollectors https://www.instagram.com/p/CeYlVTmOb8b/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[darklordofthesimp]

"Anything" Taglist #1

Please let me know if you want to be added and please let me know if you'd like to be removed :)

@carnnieval @mmmothballz @corgideer @classickook @je-suis-argent-miel @actuallyanita @o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o @msecho19 @svnflowery @lenasvoid @teacupcollector @voxsdarling @qualityearthquakes @misshoneypaper @eldritch-bunny @vienettacream @untoldshortsofthefandoms @blue-heart-butterfly @deceiverofgods @brainstormbby @angsty-microwave @amatis-gray @xoneaboveallx @avengingwitcher @iwantmethgivememeth @kyojooto @sinnerburrito @amatchasky @msecho19 @darlingdaph @fckwritersblock @teslastoaster @the-queerpoet-collecter @miwagila @urfavsunkissedleo @itsasecrets-things @kiwibao @lolcaca @gggraceiscool @sofasoap @kittiowolf210 @the-wandering-pan-ace@mykneeshurt @glacierlove @soap-mactavish

Anything III (König x Reader)

Summary: A lack of information from the chain of command results in König mistaking you for an enemy sniper. The altercation ends in your hospitalisation and when you've finally recovered, Price assigns the same man who destroyed you to teach you how to never let it happen again.

Requested by: Literally fucking everyone.

A/N: I was really fighting for my life with this chapter y'all.

Category: Angst || Hurt/Comfort || Forced Proximity || Enemies to ?

Warnings: Graphic language, graphic description of PTSD, graphic violence, graphic description of gun violence, graphic description of injury.

"That fucker needs to go." 

"He's not going anywhere, Simon."

The Lieutenant spun on his heel, reeling on Price with startling speed. He didn’t budge, though. Not when Ghost stopped only inches away and not when a finger rested on his chest- a warning. A threat. 

“Birdy’s my responsibility,” his voice was dangerously low and the Captain’s eyes narrowed. 

“And you’re all my responsibility,” Price’s words were slow and enunciated, spoken through gritted teeth. The heat rolling off his body was tangible, he was fucking furious. He was torn. “You think this was my fucking idea? I get orders from up top just like you do, Riley. They got their own plans in mind.”

Ghost inhaled sharply, dropping his hand to his side. Up top. If the rank has been anything, it’s been consistently shit. 

“When someone tears their own fuckin’ face-off, the plan needs to change,” Simon murmured, the images of the incident drifting across his vision. The man was no stranger to intrusive thoughts but these were particularly vivid, they splattered across the carefully cleaned plains of his mind- taunting him. 

“I know.” Price lit a cigar, his gaze trailing across the rooftops. “Been working on it.” 

“And?” 

“Baby steps, Simon. Baby steps.” 

_________

Inhale, exhale. Again. 

Bang 

Then again. 

Bang 

And again. 

Bang

One, two, three, the hole never widened; not even by a millimetre. The target stood strong and unwavering, and you were doused in hot anger. You’d selected the biggest one you could find, it wasn’t as tall as you wanted, but you supposed the chances of finding a nearly seven foot soldier on the battlefield were slim. 

You were grateful that the one thing that hadn’t changed over the recent horrors of your life, was your aim. You were still a sniper.

Bang 

You were still the best. 

“We got another unit comin’ in for their assessments, Birdy.” The range supervisor’s voice was loud over the speaker and you forced yourself not to jump. “You gotta clear out or pick another lane, mate.” 

Your eyes trailed over the aisles beside you. The rear of their booths were all open, designed for trainees to have an instructor standing over them. Those days of needing direction were over, as were the days of leaving your back vulnerable. 

The lane you had chosen was at the very end of the range, a locked booth designed for soldier’s shooting assessments. It was a bi-annual event, where your marksmanship was tested in order to deem you competent and qualified. No instructor, no target indications, just you in a locked booth with a rifle and a target. 

Now, it was the only place you felt safe enough to shoot. 

You heaved your body up, clearing your weapon before slinging it over your shoulder. It seemed that your time was up. 

As you stepped out of your haven and into the aisle, you tried to settle the anxiety in your chest. It was a burdensome feeling that only faded when you were looking down the sight of your rifle, plaguing your every move and every thought. It was all-consuming. 

A shot rang a few lanes ahead and you flicked your gaze up to the screen as you walked. They were half a centimetre or so off from the central aiming mark but the next shot was dead on. You snorted. 

As you moved to pass, you spared a curious glance at the shooter. 

Your body locked up. 

Right in front of you, lying on his stomach with those long legs sprawled out, was König. 

You seethed. You were suddenly overcome by a rage that, for once, did not wash over you with a flush of heat. Instead, you were cold. Ice trickled the length of your spine and your fingers went numb, pins and needles pricking at your nails. 

Your face stung at the sight of him. 

He was the reason you couldn’t look at yourself in the mirror anymore, he was the reason you looked like a fucking abomination. Your face was deformed and mutilated and here this fucker lay, his back turned to the world because he was not the one that got destroyed.

König ruined you and got away unscathed. 

You waited for him to take another shot, using the cover of the resounding gunfire to put down your rifle. He had no idea that you were there, he was entirely unsuspecting. He was vulnerable.

Before you could comprehend what you were doing, your body had moved to stand over his prone figure. You could hear his breathing, see the rise and fall of his chest.

 In, bang, out. 

They had chosen this fucking imbecile to replace you? He couldn’t even breathe right, everything was wrong. His form was wrong, his breathing pattern was wrong, his shooting was wrong, and he was not built to be a sniper. He was built to destroy with his hands, with no finesse, no pinpoint accuracy- just a bludgeon. 

There was no honour in what König was. 

Again, your face stung beneath the gauze. A reminder. Encouragement. 

You reached for the Glock strapped to your belt, cold sweat trickling down your neck.  König took a breath in and you flicked open the buckle. But he didn’t take a shot as you had predicted, and he’d heard the noise from above him. 

When König turned, you let him see you, just as he’d given you that mercy. 

Then you struck. 

Unlike before, König hadn’t been given the chance to kick the weapon from your hands before you descended upon him. A startled rasp ripped from his mouth as you dropped onto his body, bringing the butt of your firearm to strike his temple. 

His head knocked back, bouncing off the mat beneath him. 

How merciful, that it was not concrete? How gracious, that you didn’t grab his head and crush it? 

König groaned, his hands flying up to defend himself, stunned by the sudden impact. You knew that his vision would be spinning, a loud buzz ringing in his ears. You knew too well. 

But it wasn’t enough. 

You pushed his hands away, bringing the gun down again. You felt his skin render from beneath the metal, a wet thud echoing through the booth as you split the skin of his cheek. The blood made your eyes widen. It wasn’t enough. 

You would give him your scars. You would peel his skin from his bone. You would shatter him until he was unrecognisable. 

This wasn’t enough. 

König’s eyes flickered open, hard and betrayed. 

You knew that the element of surprise had run out, but you were not finished. You’d just gotten started, the purple of his cheek and the red dripping down his temple only marked the beginning. But you couldn’t overpower the man below you. 

When his hands gripped your biceps and he opened his mouth to yell, you pushed the barrel of your handgun past his lips until his teeth scraped the steel.

Everything fell still, his hands frozen on your body and his eyes wide. You hoped that he could taste the gunpowder, you hoped that he could taste his death. The sound of the safety flicking off resounded in the booth and the man beneath you flinched. 

His fingers shook against your skin, his breath rattling in his chest. 

König was afraid. 

And at that realization, for the first time in over a year, a genuine smile twisted your lips. The soldier’s eyes widened, his body twitching beneath yours, groaning around the barrel in his mouth. 

“How do you like it?” You whispered, the words a snarl as you leaned down close. 

König’s emerald gaze was steady on yours and you could visibly see him attempt to calm his breathing. In, out, in, out. He was breathing wrong, everything was still just wrong, wrong, wrong. You pressed harder on the gun. 

This wasn’t enough. 

He wasn’t bruised enough, he wasn’t bleeding enough. You moved your left hand to cup his cheek and his eyes flickered. König wanted to buck you off, he wanted to disable you, maybe he even wanted to murder you. You hoped he did, you wanted to see the same hatred in his eyes that you saw that damned fucking night. 

You wanted him to look into your soul and know that you were going to ruin him. 

That you were going to kill him. 

“You feel guilty?” You hissed, your fingers slowly digging into the skin of his cheek. “You feel bad for what you did?” 

König’s eyes softened. 

Don’t want your pity. 

Kill him. Kill him. Kill him. 

Finally, he hummed his affirmation around the barrel in his mouth. Your nails dug into the flesh of his face, dragging a jagged scratch inch by inch across his features. The man didn’t flinch, he didn’t move, and he didn’t make a sound- he only watched you. 

When you leaned in to brush your lips against his ear, he knew what was coming. 

Satisfaction flooded your senses, righteous anger gripping you by the throat and forcing the words that you’ve wanted to say for so long from your lips. 

“Your fight is finished.” 

König took in a sharp breath. 

You pulled the trigger. 

The sound was deafening and for a sweet, beautiful moment, you felt vindication. You’d  won. You’d bested him. The man that had ruined your life had gotten what he deserved and he needed to die, die, die. That was the only thing that would settle his debt, the only thing that would serve the justice you felt owed. 

With the simplest pull of the trigger, you had been avenged. 

Then, you realised that the blood that had sprayed aross the space between your bodies wasn’t his. It was yours. 

König was on top of you. The gun was gone, his mask was on, and your face was crushed. You couldn’t breathe you couldn’t think and the only thing you could feel was the searing pain of the knife twisting in your chest. 

No, no, no, no. 

This was wrong, this wasn’t what was meant to happen. Why were you back here? His hand was on your face before you could protest and you felt your head lift from the ground. 

“Even in victory, you are nothing.” 

Crack

“You will always be nothing.” 

Crack

You were screaming, you could hear yourself doing it but your mouth wasn’t moving. Your teeth were caved in, your jaw had collapsed, you felt as though your face had melted from the bone. Yet you could hear the shrieks, hear the wailing. 

The back of your head was wet, your skull felt like it was falling apart at the seams. The breeze tickled against your brain and your nerves were on fire. 

You were broken, broken, broken. 

“Birdy!” 

This time you could feel every crack of your head into the concrete. This time you felt your brain matter smear across the floor. 

“Wake up!” 

Wake up.

Wake up. 

You sat up with the gasp of someone who’d been drowning, clawing at your throat for air. Sweat trickled down your spine, the room was hot and the blankets were tangled between your legs but you were in your bedroom- you recognised it instantly.  

“That’s it, sweetheart,” a rough voice murmured from beside you. There was a hand pressed flat against your chest, firm and grounding. “Breathe.” 

“Simon,” you sobbed. The man hummed in response, his other hand rubbing your back with enough force to rock your body. He was trying to keep you rooted in reality, give you something physical, something tangible to hold on to.

“I’m losing my mind,” you gasped, your chest caving at the realisation. You didn’t know what was real or not, fact or fiction, tangible or imaginary- you lived on a plain of uncertainty. You were lost, you were broken and you were unreliable. 

Price was right. You had become a liability. 

“You’re late to the party,” Simon loosed a soft chuckle, pulling you close against his body. “I lost mine years ago, kid.” 

You relished in his touch as you tried to regroup. You were in your room, you were in your bed, it was the middle of the night and you’d had a nightmare. Your clothes were soaked, sticking to your skin uncomfortably; and you had the horrid realization that maybe it wasn’t all sweat. You sucked in a breath, scrambling to push the blankets from your body. 

“What-” 

You ignored anything that the Lieutenant might of said, scrubbing your hands over your limbs, neck and face. The sweat threw you off and you checked your fingers in the dim light for crimson stains. You couldn’t deal with it again, you couldn’t cope with more damage. You were already disgusting, you were already mutilated and scarred. Unloveable, untouchable, irreparable, irevevocable, irremediable-

No more, no more, no more no more no more-

Simon gripped your hands, tugging them towards his chest and jerking your body forward. You dragged in a sharp breath, eyes wide and frantic. 

“You didn’t hurt yourself,” the words were urgent and low, his gaze holding you still just as well as his grip. “You’re alright, Birdy.” 

You took in a rattling breath and his grip tightened. 

“You’re alright, kid,” Simon reinforced, that ocean gaze compelling you to calm your heart rate. He left no room for discussion with the way that he looked at you, there was no option to disobey. You pushed air into your lungs, following the pattern he’d set for you. “It was just a nightmare.” 

You frowned. “Only at the very end.” 

Not when you had been shooting, not when you’d been atop of your enemy with a gun in his mouth; that was not the nightmare. You’d felt vindicated, you’d felt insane but satisfied. During those moments in the dream, you were not afraid of König. You were not shaking, you were not whimpering or begging for your life. 

You were strong. 

Stronger than him. 

“How’d you know I was–” You cleared your throat. “How’d you get in here?” 

The silence that followed had you on edge, as Simon’s hand worked methodically across your back.  He didn’t answer for a long while and your thoughts began to sober. Why was he in your room? How had he gotten there? How did he know you were having a night terror? His quarters were nowhere near yours, he was in the hallway over, divided by thick concrete walls; he most definitely couldn’t have heard your screams.

“Someone tipped me off,” the words were spoken through clenched teeth and his minsitrations against your back faltered. Your chest tightened at the implication. “They thought I’d be better suited to come help you.”

“How-” 

“He’s down the hall, Birdy.” Simon interrupted and you could feel his fingers curl into a fist against your spine. “Everyone in this fuckin’ corridor could hear you.” 

Your breathing began to pick up and heat flushed against your skin, the blood boiling from beneath the surface.

“That doesn’t explain how you got in,” you rasped, gripping the blankets at your side. You needed to ground yourself, you needed to be calm. 

“He thought you were being attacked or somethin’ with the way you were yellin’,” Simon sighed. It wasn’t a direct answer but it was a good enough indication as to what had happened. 

You let your gaze drift to the door, sucking in a sharp breath at the sight before you. The hinges had been ripped from the wall, the frame torn straight from the brick. The door itself was missing completely, and as you slowly leaned over to get a look at the floor, your heart dropped to your stomach. 

Your bedroom door lay in pieces, the splintered remnants splayed across the floor like shattered glass. 

[morimatea]

Cloisonne teacup with revolving core.

[fanofvintage]

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