#and then be able to deal with the grief of going through everything and deciding what stays and what goes

[egregiousderp]

A week’s vacation starts tomorrow. Minus Halloween, of course, because I love working Halloween at the store enough I requested to work it. I’m up to two kids who already are clearly living in their costumes: one in a Sonic Onesie with matching yellow crocs decked in sonic-themed jibbitz, and one Batman with the built-in foam muscles on a maybe…seven year old and five year old respectively? Best part of Halloween for me, honestly, seeing the kids who are going to *be* Spider-Man or whatever until Thanksgiving when their parents finally go TAKE THAT OFF WE HAVE COMPANY COMING.

Got cleared for the Jedi costume as long as I’m bladeless and the saber stays on the belt, so that’s…honestly, easy, but also feels a little weird because it’s like “oh cool what do I do with the time, now?” Like, I debated making a togruta headdress for it but decided not to just in case it’s “scary” for the real little ones.

Car’s still needing to go to the shop because it won’t start and the hood latch is broken, and my sick time from the Week of Mystery Dysentery has come up mysteriously short a hundred bucks from my already not so great paycheck, and car insurance had to be paid.

So it looks like I’m spending a week inside cooking two big meals to make use of the pantry stuff that just got cleared, with MAYBE a third if mom feels like eating chopped liver with me if I make it, and seeing how many paper cranes I can make to contribute to the thousand.

…It’s so weird working so hard to get full time for so many years, and now the benefits are slightly annoying and way less helpful than the guaranteed hours—especially since the home situation is so toxic and I’m trapped, unable to go anywhere.

[genderkoolaid]

expand on ur "mental asylum Marxism shit" thing about children & grief?? from what you've said im pretty sure i will relate from my own experiences as a grieving child. also it sounds interesting!!

so i was thinking about how weird it is that, when a child has to deal with the death of a loved one, they say something like "no child should have to go through this! no child should have to even think about death!" which strikes me as weird because i was a child who dealt with the deaths of multiple close family members, very close together. the first was my great-grandmother, who i lived with and who was my best friend. death was never foreign to me (my mom has always been very death-positive on top of all that). grief was just part of my life like everything else was.

but i realized that its because people think childhood should not have any flaws. you should be 100% happy and fulfilled all the time. any time a child experiences anything painful, its bad. not "children should have access to love and support," but "children should not have basic life experiences because the idea of childhood being anything other than fluffy purity scares me."

because children in society are fundamentally not people. especially in a society structured around christian beliefs in natural law theory, that what is natural = what is good, healthy, and Divinely commanded. so on top of children being the property of adults, they are also forced to be the symbols of Nature. whatever is the most useful to whoever needs them. which means we built up this idea of children as tabula rasas, pureness incarnate. like a magic mirror where if we look into it, we'll be able to catch a glimpse of the true face of humanity. every single thing children do can be scrutinized for some grand truth about humans as a whole. and then, the ways children are treated also reflect how we think humanity should interact with its own nature.

example: the idea of humanity as inherently sinful and wicked, with that urge needing to be suppressed through state violence (hello hobbes) = the idea that children are annoying and shitty on purpose and need to be forced via punishment into being Good Citizens.

this is also why children cannot be trans, even though all trans people must prove that we were trans children. being queer must be unnatural; and even if not, its inherently sexual, and sexuality is dirty and bad. so children can't be trans, and they also can't read books on puberty until their parents decide when and what exactly they are allowed to learn. child victims of sexual assault only matter to the extent that they can be used as a symbol of a cultural threat; calling Jewish or trans people pedophiles means saying that they are foreigners attacking basic human nature, and indirectly, Divine command. if you aren't the right kind of victim, or when you inevitably reveal yourself to be A Person with complicated experiences and opinions, you are no longer of use to the agenda.

it sucks that bad things happen to anyone. aspects of youth can exacerbate the pain sometimes, but sometimes it does the reverse: I wish I could have spent more time with the family members I lost, but I know other people who are glad they loss family members young, because they weren't really hurt by it. I think the main thing is that, even sometimes when we talk about our past selves, we project this cultural idea of Child As Purity and ignore the actual person having the experience. when we "empathize" with children by projecting Purity onto them, we aren't actually connecting with them.

[disneyprincemuke]

midnights, 6 * mv1

a thunderstorm keeps you up at night, the same way it kept max up

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: -

notes: i was going to post and update my fem!driver but tumblr keeps reverting back to an old version and idK WHATS WRONG WITH TUMBLRRRR!!! i pUT MY WHOLE PUSSY INTO THAT BRO

(prev) // (next)

you sigh, hanging your towel onto the rack. the thunderstorm had been building up to what it is now the entire time you were out for dinner with alexandra and charles.

luckily, charles had offered to drive tonight. you weren’t given the hard task of navigating the streets late at night in the rain.

as much as solitary was what you craved all night, your mind seemed to change every time the thunder got a little too loud for your liking. suddenly, you were crying for help in your head that the night wouldn’t end too soon.

alas, here you are in your apartment while the rain raged on outside.

you try your hardest not to let the thunder get to you. but it’s almost impossible when the lightning lights up half of the room and the thunder rumbles in your chest.

it’s mind numbingly empty, being in your apartment during a thunderstorm without max by your side. even when he’s away, he always finds a way to stick by your side when the rain is pouring. all because he knows how much you hate it.

you’ve always felt bad keeping him up late when the weather decides to act up. he claims that it’s no problem, because your wellbeing is what matters the most, but you can’t help it.

you always note the way he struggles to keep awake on nights like these, his responses delayed by seconds at time when the gears in his head are slowed. but you also realised that he’d gotten better at staying up just to make you feel comforted and heard.

he eventually found different ways to keep you company during the long hours of a rainy night, the sounds only bothering you mildly when he’s there.

when he's away, it got harder to deal with. his voice over the speaker on your phone is too soft compared to what it is when he's in the room with you. it's the lack of a comforting embrace as well that made it that much harder to deal with.

jimmy and sassy often helped with coping with a thunderstorm a lot. they would snuggle up into your waist and purr when you cover them with a blanket while you're on the call with max.

but now you're all alone.

it's just you and the shadows of your poorly lit apartment.

you turn around and sigh loudly at the emptiness. it's a cold evening, so you're now by your dresser as you search for a sweatshirt to warm yourself up with.

you thought that you'd disposed of everything that screamed max, but you're immediately proven wrong when you notice a dark-coloured sleeve poking out of your bright-coloured selection of clothes.

dark coloured clothing means one thing. it only ever leads to one person - max.

your hands shake by your side as you stare at the sleeve, not finding the strength in yourself to grab it. you'd forgotten that you had one of his jackets from way before you moved into his apartment.

every breath you take feels heavier, the grief of losing max weighing you down once more. tears fill your eyes as you try to remember how the red bull jacket even ended up in your closet in the first place.

typically, you'd remember like it was yesterday. but for some reason, you can't remember it. and you want to be able to remember it. forgetting max and everything you've been through is never part of the plan.

you want to remember every single detail about that relationship you shared. it was the happiest couple of years you've had, the highs and lows of his career affecting you just as much while you tried your best to be there for him. you'd been there for most of it.

it feels odd now that you're not there anymore. you wonder if he feels the emptiness without you too.

when he started his career in formula 1, you entered his life months after that. you'd been there when he was promoted to the main racing team and you were there for every single podium finish thereafter. you'd even been there for every single crash and hospital visit.

you were there and suddenly you're not showered in champagne every weekend, reeking of the alcohol that soaked your clothes and hair.

a loud rumble makes you flinch, hands flying up to cover your ears. it doesn't get any easier dealing with it - the rumbling in your chest that accompanied the loud roar outside the window.

but you can't resist. you grab the jacket from your closet anyway, throwing the hanger back inside. you jump onto your bed and wrap the blanket over your shoulders and grab your phone from your nightstand.

you dial a number unconsciously and hold the phone up to your ear as you await an answer. you choke up when the ringing stops, knowing well yourself that this is not the person you meant to call. it's just to stick to your principle of backing up the break-up that you never wanted but brought up.

"hey."

"mum, i miss him," you sob into the phone, your hand coming up to your chest as you feel it close in on itself. "i miss max."

"i know, baby." you hear some shuffling from the other side of the line, then a hushed whisper from your father. the door shuts before your mother says something to you again. "but this is for the best, isn't it? you guys have not been happy for so long."

this makes you sob even harder, your wails being tuned out by the rain that has gotten stronger in the past second. the roaring in the night sky barely bothers you now.

you just want max.

"we are happy," you defend yourself and the relationship. nobody knows what happened. nobody knows that even if you fought endlessly, you were still happy when you pushed it all aside. you were happy with max. "we were happy. i ruined it, mama."

you resort to putting a hand over your mouth as you start to sob harder. if you'd known the rain was going to be such a trigger, you would have just gone to sleep the moment you stepped foot into your apartment.

"i love him," you manage to whisper. you close your eyes as the tears continue to fall, leaning your head on your headboard. the picture frame on your bedside table still stands tall, making you contemplate if you should hang up and call max instead. "i don't think i'll ever get over him."

but your mother will always be looking out for you. she doesn't encourage you to call him. she just says, "get it off your chest, baby. i'm here."

and you spend the next 3 hours crying over max, your framed picture sitting by your knee as you talk about him. you only fall asleep when the thunderstorm stops, wrapped in his jacket that weirdly still smelled just like him.

taglist: @merchelsea @leclercdream @labelledejourr @laneyspaulding19 @lpab @graciewrote @hollie911 @thatsojasminesworld @mycenterfold @princessria127 @ironmaiden1313 @dl-yum @crlsummer @brekkers-whore @minkyungseokie @honethatty12

[exhuastedpigeon]

Buddie Hiatus Fic Recs - Month 4 August 16 - Sept 15

I think is my favourite rec list for this little project so far. It has some of my all time favourite Buddie fics on it, fics that I've read over and over again because they just bring me so much joy.

Previous lists linked at the bottom!

0-5k

here (in your arms) by devirnis / @devirnis Explicit | 2.3k I have had THE WORST day. When I finally get home, I’m going to pass out and sleep like a rock, and then I want to wake up with you inside me.

the art of peeling mandarins for the one you love by oklahoma / @sunshinediaz Teen | 3.9k Buck asks Eddie to marry him in the kitchen, of all places.

5k-10k

but i've got my teeth in you by oklahoma / @sunshinediazTeen | 5.5k bad things happen bingo—tooth knocked out

you're the cream in my coffee by 42hrb Explicit | 8.6k Buddie coffee shop AU where everything is different, but they’re still idiots in love

wood you be mine? by MonsterRae1 / @monsterrae1 Mature | 9k the Lumberjack Buck fic.

10k-20k

With Great Power Comes Great Pining by Princessfbi / @princessfbi Teen | 10.4k It was the lightning strike. That had to be it. It was the only logical conclusion. Though, when it comes to being able to suddenly read people’s minds, Buck supposed there wasn’t a whole lot of logic involved.

endless numbered days by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Gen | 13.1k When a big event in the lives of the members of the 118 falls on the same weekend as Bobby's late son's birthday, Bobby finds himself reflecting on grief, fatherhood, and life after loss. 

The Scroll of Saint Barnabas by Amiril / @runawaymarbles Mature | 15k The day of the shooting, Eddie got stuck in a time loop. But that was three months ago. He's completely fine now.

Say Yes, and Figure It Out Afterwards by catwalksalone Explicit | 13.3k Buck and Eddie figure out a mutually beneficial way to deal with the first responder post-trauma cycle of up-horny-down.

Share the Joy by TalkNerdyToMe6 Teen | 14.2k After the lightning strike, Buck discovers he has more than just the ability to do long division in his head. Every time he touches Eddie, everything the other man is feeling moves through him like a wave of emotion, there and gone again. Buck can’t decide if that’s a blessing or a curse.

20k - 30k

light through the wave tips by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Explicit | 21.9k When Buck and Eddie planned a vacation with their kids over a year ago, they hadn’t exactly planned on bringing a seven-month-old baby along with them. Surely wrangling three kids can't be too much of a challenge—that is, if it weren't for Christopher's steadily worsening mood.

Cutting The Ties That Bind by kristen999 / @thekristen999 Mature | 34.4k Evan Buckley was a businessman, he had meetings and deadlines like everyone else. Sometimes he used intimation. While using the very same tactics he was trying to end while converting his family business into legitimate operations was a little hypocritical, it was the results that mattered.

Occasionally, he got threatened, but it was usually all hot air and ego. That all changed the day his breaks were tampered with. Enter Eddie Diaz, security specialist, who was not easily impressed by Buck’s expensive suits or financial conquests. That was okay. Buck enjoyed a challenge.

30k +

family (portrait) by ProsperDemeter / @prosperdemeter2 Teen | 45.1k realizing that the family that you need has been beside you all along.

like a dog with a bird at your door by fleetinghearts / @shitouttabuck Explicit | 51.1k evan “i love you like a dog” buckley has only ever known how to love like, well, a dog, but maybe eddie diaz is the kinda guy to give a flea-bitten mongrel a forever home

Being Eddie by Daisies_and_Briars / @cal-daisies-and-briars Teen | 79.8 Eddie goes through the time travel therapy process of the 2009 Canadian TV show Being Erica

what a heart can do by bvckandeddie (zukkababey) / @bvckandeddie Teen | 85.5k In which Buck becomes the guardian of the daughter he never knew he had. Together, they discover what happiness truly means to them.

Month 1 (May 15 - June 15) Month 2 (June 16 - July 15) Month 3 (July 16 - August 15)

[atqh16]

I think something some fans don’t take into account about Wei Ying never telling Jiang Cheng about the golden core was because it was most likely an incredibly traumatic experience for him. Imagine going through surgery without any anesthesia and being forced to endure excruciating pain for two days and one night. Even after he came back he still couldn’t bring himself to even think about it. Let alone explain to JC.

Another thing is how he was probably terrified that his brother would hate him for it. He knew it was an incredibly invasive decision that he had decided without Jiang Cheng’s consent. That he had taken that choice from him even if himself did feel like it was necessary to help his brother. Imagine having to deal with that terrible trauma alone. Followed almost immediately with being thrown into the burial mounds and being trapped there for months right after being stabbed. From the height he was thrown he definitely got horribly injured from the fall as well. Not even having his cultivation to help him protect himself. The headcanon that he ate corpses is very unlikely and according to the wens there was some trees there that grew fruit and there was some source of drinkable water. But I think Wei Ying would have still been immobilized from pain for days before he could even move.

I’m not one who likes to compare traumas. I think it’s redundant and doesn’t help the situation. But I think it’s still pretty fair to conclude that Wei Ying had it way worse. In addition to all of this, he might not have been related to Jiang Fengmian by blood but he was still the only father figure he’d ever known. His grief at losing him might not have been as intense as JC’s but it was still there. Not to mention the grief of losing their entire sect. The guilt he must have felt since it happened when Wang Lingjiao was demanding he be punished. Even if it was just an excuse for the Wens to attack the Jiangs.

Not to mention he was also dealing with the pain of having been whipped by Zidian. Something that could take weeks to heal. And he had to deal with all of that silently because he had to prioritize keeping his brother safe. Especially since it was JF’s last words to him.

I just cannot take people who vehemently condemn his decision to keep that secret seriously. Especially the ones that accuse him of simply being avoidant. I think it was more than understandable and even borderline justifiable. That’s not even mentioning how he was ostracized after the war for a type of cultivation he had no choice but to choose. Not even being able to explain why because it would reveal everything to JC. Being told over and over that he was basically a monster for doing so. Saying that he was dealing with a conga trauma line would be an understatement.

[doumadono]

Hiii! How are you?? I don't know if this an emergency but... Can you do any bnha character (I have preference in Kaminari and Sero, but can be anyone you choice) where reader had an s3xu4l 4ss4ult after one party with they males best friends? Who I thought was my best friends end up 4bus1ng me when I was drunk and high, I barely remember what happened after the 4bus3 started.

You can ignore if you don't feel comfortable doing it, thank you for your time 💕

A/N: hiya, Nonnie, I'm doing pretty fine lately. I hope that as of now, you're doing a little better, my dear. I'm truly sorry to hear that you went through such a traumatic experience. It's important to acknowledge that you are not alone, and there are people who care about your well-being. If you're comfortable, consider reaching out to someone you trust, be it a friend, family member, or a mental health professional. Your feelings are valid, and taking steps towards healing is a brave and empowering choice

EMERGENCY REQS MASTERLIST

Kaminari notices that something is off with you, and his usual, cheerful demeanor turns serious. "Hey, you seem a bit off. Everything okay?"

You, hesitant at first, finally admit, "I… I don't know, Denki. Something happened after one party we attended, and I don't know how to deal with it…"

He approaches you with genuine concern, asking if everything is okay, not pressuring you to share but making it clear he's there for you. "You can tell me anything, okay?"

Eventually, you open up to Kaminari about the sexual assault you experienced, and he listens attentively without judgment. Tearfully, you recount the incident, and Kaminari's expression shifts from shock to empathy. "Oh God, sparks, I'm so sorry you had to go through that."

Kaminari is incredibly supportive, offering a comforting hand on your shoulder or a gentle hug, letting you know he's there whenever you need him.

He encourages you to take your time to heal, assuring you that there's no rush, and your well-being is the top priority. "Take your time. I'm here to listen and help, and we'll figure this out together."

Kaminari makes it clear that you're welcome to share as much or as little as you're comfortable with. "Your feelings are valid, and I'm here to support you through all of it," he says, acknowledging the emotional weight of your words.

He suggests spending time together doing activities that you enjoy, helping to create a sense of normalcy and safety.

Kaminari gently suggests seeking professional help, understanding that it's a sensitive topic but emphasizing the importance of your mental health. "I've heard that talking to a professional can really help. I'll be here for you every step of the way."

He offers to accompany you to appointments or assist in finding resources if you decide to pursue anything. "We can look into options together if you want. Your well-being is what matters most," he adds, reassuringly.

While Kaminari remains a supportive presence, he doesn't shy away from expressing his anger at the situation, making it clear that what happened was not okay. "What happened was not okay. Not fucking okay! You deserve to feel safe, and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure you do, sparks."

Kaminari consistently checks in on you, not as an obligation but because he genuinely cares. He wants to ensure you feel supported throughout your healing process.

Understanding that trust might be a delicate issue, Kaminari reassures you that he's committed to earning and maintaining your trust at your own pace.

Bonus!

When Kaminari is not with you, the weight of your pain becomes almost unbearable for him. Alone in his room, Kaminari often finds himself succumbing to waves of grief, alternating between tears and bursts of anger. The helplessness of not being able to protect you eats at him, and he struggles to contain his overwhelming emotions.

To Kaminari, you are more than a significant other; you're his source of brightness, his spark. The thought of someone dimming that light, causing you pain, strikes him to the core.

The emotional turmoil reaches a boiling point, leading to moments where Kaminari angrily punches his pillow or the wall. The frustration at being unable to turn back time and protect you fuels these outbursts.

Kaminari, unable to contain his emotions any longer, reaches a breaking point. The anger and frustration of not being able to protect you gnaw at him, pushing him to seek solace in someone he knows understands intensity — Katsuki Bakugo.

Kaminari, with a heavy heart, briefly shares the situation with Bakugo, the details too painful to express fully. "I can't take it anymore, man. I need to do something about it. I need your help. They hurt her, man. I wasn't there, and I can't let it slide. It's eating me alive."

Bakugo, though gruff, recognizes the gravity of the situation and doesn't dismiss Kaminari's emotions. "We need Kirishima and Sero. Get 'em here."

Bakugo's explosive anger surfaces, as the four sit together, thinking of a plan. "Anyone who thinks they can get away with hurting our friends is dead fucking wrong. We're gonna show 'em to not mess with us, for fuck's sake."

[roachsideblog]

Goretober Day 16: Crying

Thanks @nonsenseafterdark for the list!

TWs: None, surprisingly.

Ghost finds Roach in a compromised emotional state. He empathizes.

Words: 681

Pairing: GhostRoach

~~~

Ocean wind blew in from the rocky coast, thick with the stench of brine and seaweed, carrying sand that abraded everything in sight. It eroded the little town west of Manchester Ghost and Roach mistakenly chose to spend their leave visiting. Not a surface in sight was free from its weathering touch: statues found their details eaten by time, cement walls and walkways chewed up into crumbling aggregate, even Roach’s cheeks wore red from its force. And Ghost knew it wasn’t sunburn. No, not lick of sunshine came all week. Judging by the anvil cloud looming over the Irish Sea, the second week wouldn’t be any better.

Ghost sat up in his king bed of their hotel room. Indulging in a little voyeurism he watched his Sergeant outside drape over the balcony. Roach’s bed, furthest from the sliding glass door, lay messy after he’d been tossing and turning all night. Some selfish part of Ghost wondered if he’d sleep better if they shared the bed. If Ghost could hold him. Cuddle and coddle him.

Weary, the Lieutenant rubbed his face, stubble catching his calloused hands. He needed a glass of water to wash the taste of sleep from his mouth. Roach might appreciate one, too. With two paper cups now full of lukewarm tap water, since their overpriced room had no mini-fridge and the ice machine was broken, he stepped outside to join his sulking friend.

Roach jumped but said nothing.

Ghost set a cup on the rail beside him, fingers hovering to ensure it wouldn’t blow over, and sipped his own. He waited to be addressed, gut instinct whispering that some situations don’t require words to resolve.

Roach hugged himself. He shuttered in the dropping autumn temperatures—scratch that; his shoulders shook and his chest heaved breaths that smoked out into the abyss. They rose and dissipated as if they never existed. Meanwhile, very real tears dripped from his scruffy chin towards the streetlights below.

Ghost thought it started raining at first. He’d never known Roach to cry.

“Fuck,” his Sergeant whispered. “Sorry to wake you.”

“Wasn’t sleeping well, anyway. Too quiet.”

Roach let out a single half-hearted laugh. He sniffed viscous snot back up his nose as he said, “That’s the whole reason you suggested we get out here.”

“I can’t think of the right expression. Only thing coming to mind is ‘don’t meet your heroes,’ if that makes any sense.”

He hummed. “You’re tired. Go back to bed.”

“Seems like you need some company.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this.”

Ghost sighed, waffling his arm before deciding to rest a hand on Roach’s shoulder. “Drink some water then come back to bed with me. We’ll turn off the lamp and I won’t be able to.”

“I can’t. I’ve been having nightmares,” Roach confided. He made no effort to shrug off the comfort. “What if Shepherd actually killed us? What if Price hadn’t warned us in time? We were about to march right into his bloody trap. What if I watched him put a bullet through your head? Simon, I can’t bear the thought of losing you.”

Ghost was no stranger to nightmares. To preemptive grief brought on by what-ifs. He had no advice because if he knew how to fix it they wouldn’t be waking him up on vacation, only to find his Sergeant up and dealing with the same issue.

He slid his hand flat across Roach’s back until his arm stretched around the man, pulling him close. “I’ve got you. I’m here. It didn’t happen.”

“It was so close! Who knows what would’ve happened, I mean—!”

Ghost cut him off with a kiss. When Roach reciprocated, turning to rest a hand on Ghost’s peck, the Lieutenant moved his hand to the back of Roach’s neck. It was sweet. All lips and no tongue. Spurred on by love rather than lust.

“I said I’ve got you,” Ghost repeated. “I’m here with you, right now, and we’re both alive. Let’s make the most of it, yeah? Come in to bed and let me hold you.”

[extasiswings]

Can somebody explain to me why this "undos" Eddie's ptsd arc in s5?? I've seen people upset about this and I'm confused

...please say sike, I'm so serious, that cannot be a real thing people are saying...(jk I can believe it because this fandom's media literacy is uhhhhhhh Not Great, Bob).

Anyway, it's an extremely bad take. Eddie has consistently been shown to go through cycles where he will work on one specific thing (or very specific set of things), and then when he feels like he has sufficiently addressed that one specific thing/set of things, he will pat himself on the back for the great work like all is well/he's all good/healed/fixed while ignoring the pile of twelve million other issues in the corner that he's thrown a sheet over to avoid dealing with. Eddie's PTSD is very different from his Shannon issues, and notably, he has never actually dealt with Shannon issues!

She died in S2 and he cried on the beach over her letter and then pulled himself together so he could be a rock for Christopher and put on a strong front for his family and then he went right back to work. He nearly killed a guy in an illegal fight club and when talking to Bobby about it confessed to Shannon asking for the divorce and "I forgave her for everything, but it wasn't enough - I wasn't enough," but when he went to therapy at that point, did he engage with that or anything about Shannon at all? No he did not!

In S4/Jinx, he confesses to Bobby again that he's "still not over it, not over her" but again, does he actually grapple meaningfully with his grief at that point? No! He decides instead to jump into something with Ana and move way too fast to provide Christopher a replacement mommy. In S5, he blames his panic attacks on his relationship (which...the unreliable narrator is narrating) and after breaking up with Ana once again shoves anything relationship or Shannon-related into a dark corner and avoids it. In therapy that time around, he exclusively focuses on his physical traumas and PTSD/survivor's guilt, primarily from his time in the army. There are a million things layered into "What are you afraid of?"/"That I'll never feel normal again," but Eddie only actually grapples with like...three of them. In S6, Shannon started coming up again more explicitly, but mostly in 6B, and he still wasn't actually dealing with his grief/allowing himself to feel/engage with it or anything to do with her and their relationship. He once again started trying to find someone to date, but actively framed it as searching for the feeling he had when he first started dating Shannon. It was just a reframing of looking for her replacement.

Anyway, this season is different, and he's finally being put in a position where he's not going to be able to keep avoiding it or putting it off - he's on a collision course with all of the messy feelings he's been trying not to feel for years and has no way to pretend that it's about anything but Shannon. S7 and S5 - not the same thing at all.

[wandabear]

DAYLIGHT ㅤㅤㅤ   

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x female reader Summary: 'Sunflower' prequel. Read that first, if you want. You and the love of your life meet for the first time, you don't know everything that awaits you. Leigh Shaw is a tropical storm. This is also part of a request, thank you sweet anon. ㅤㅤㅤ    warnings: ansgt, mentions of death, alcoholism. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤPART I

Her gaze was lost on the ceiling, perhaps for twenty minutes until the alarm went off. The dark circles under her eyes showed how much it was difficult for her to sleep lately.

Y/N sighed heavily.

ㅤㅤ

She got up from the bed and went to the bathroom to take a nice hot shower. Some melancholic eyes were reflected in the mirror, she watched the scars on her body while she undressed.

ㅤㅤ

Didn't even feel like making breakfast, she just left the apartment and walked to the nearest coffee shop. Waited patiently in line until she could chat with the barista for a moment while waited for a large latte and a delicious bagel.

She took her time finishing it, listening to some music through her headphones for half an hour until she decided to leave.

ㅤㅤ Even though the barista gave Y/N her number, it didn't matter too much. She just got back on her Iron 883 and drove to the Los Angeles Fire Department, Station 12.

Some of her coworkers greeted her, surprised and happy to see her again. Everyone except her boss, who turned to see her quite surprised.

ㅤㅤ

“What did I tell you?” The man in his sixties grunted, shaking his head as he signed some papers.

ㅤㅤ “I have to go back to work.” Y/N sighed, ready to fight for what she wanted this time. “I've already learned whatever lesson you're giving me.”

ㅤㅤ All her life she dreamed of being a firefighter, of being able to help people and being in that very place where she was standing. Years of preparation, mental and physical sacrifice, her heart belonged to that place, how could she not be there?

ㅤㅤ “You can’t do it unless-” He was going to repeat the usual but Y/N cut him off.

ㅤㅤ “Cut the crap, chief.”

ㅤㅤ “Y/N.” He scolded her, looking up. With a single look it was enough for Y/N to know that she fucked it up. She swallowed.  “I have told you many times, you have to go to the meetings or I can't let you come back.”

ㅤㅤ

“It's stupid!” Y/N raised her voice, so annoyed. “I don't need those stupid meetings, what I need is to get back to work.”

ㅤㅤ

“Y/N, I know what it's like to deal with loss. Trust me, I've worked here my whole fucking life.” ㅤㅤ

“Chief, please…” ㅤㅤ

“Tonight. Grief support group, Y/L/N. I need you SOBER and better than this. Last chance.” Her boss watched her and didn't back down even a step. She knew perfectly well that those were the rules and it was necessary.

ㅤㅤ

If she wanted to get back to her job, her life, she had to do what she had to do to earn it. Life is about one sacrifice after another, after all.

ㅤㅤ

“FUCK!” was heard in that place when Y/N left the place in a hurry, completely furious.

ㅤㅤ

“So… that was what happened.” That young man explained, surrounded by the group of people.  He seemed quite sad but felt better when he noticed that everyone was listening to him, not ignoring his pain.

ㅤㅤ

“Thanks for share with us.” They all said, surprising Y/N, who awkwardly joined in.

ㅤㅤ

“I'm glad you could express that to us, James.” The moderator of the group, Janet, smiled kindly, turning to see the new person joining them today.  “Today someone joins us and it's always good to welcome you. Do you want to introduce yourself?”

ㅤㅤ

“Umh… I’m not-” Y/N stammered awkwardly, feeling all eyes on her. Her heart raced, she could feel it. The firefighter hated being the center of attention, but she had to do this if she wanted to go back to the Station.

ㅤㅤ

“My name is Y/N Y/L/N, I'm not from Los Angeles… I mean, I wasn't born here, but I live here in L.A” She cleared her throat somewhat nervously, settling in the chair. “My job asks me to do it, and- and I love my job. And it doesn't bother me, I got used to this nice place.”

ㅤㅤ

“Even if it's a bit hot.” She teased, making some laugh. “I… umh-”

ㅤㅤ

They all expected to know more, they seemed like wild animals waiting for a part of the prey. Or at least that was how she saw it.

Silence flooded the place, Y/N remained thoughtful for a moment. Her gaze was lost somewhere in the room, but she just couldn't hear or say anything.

Just relive that memory, so tragic.

ㅤㅤ

And despite the fact that she wanted to keep talking, Y/N was unable to continue. As if anguish took her by the neck, she just frowned and shook her head.

Swallowing hard, the dark-haired woman just listened to the testimonies of each person who wanted to open up and express the pain they felt.

ㅤㅤ

When she was asked again if she wanted to say something else, Y/N just shook her head slowly and remained silent. It was typical, especially for someone attending for the first time. ㅤㅤ

As soon as that meeting ended, Y/N approached the coffee table in that room so she could pour herself some nice steaming cup and run away as soon as she had the chance. Y/N didn’t want to look so desperate or they would discover the truth. She was just using this meeting to go back the job.

ㅤㅤㅤ    After having a steaming cup of coffee, she turned ready to leave but ended up colliding with a brown-haired woman with lovely but melancholy green eyes. Though thanks to her skills, didn’t spill even a single drop of coffee.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“Oh, I’m sorry.” The girl apologized, muttering something a bit embarrassed but didn’t care much either. Something that caught Y/N’s attention, completely out of this world.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

The woman in front of her, a downcast gaze looking at her phone, atractive and charming features.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

ㅤㅤㅤ    “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t saw you…” Y/N mumbled softly, noticing how the woman tucked one of her strands of hair behind her ear.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

Feeling completely stunned by the beauty. Even with a half-done bun and hoodies, she was… different. Interesting. Hot as fuck, yes, but… gorgeous. Those huge green eyes caught her attention, a somewhat adorable nose and the fact that she was shorter than her.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“Hi… I’m Y/N .” Said the taller woman finally, holding out her hand so they could shake it. That gesture made the green eyed stranger smile, maybe surprised by her desire to socialize.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“I’m Leigh.”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“Nice to meet you, Leigh.” Y/N smiled widely, nodding a bit. Something that Leigh thought was adorable. A big dork, again. “Sorry, I wanted some coffee.”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“And I wanted a donut, although the ones here aren’t so good tho…” Leigh whispered, wrinkling her nose, making Y/N’s heart to start pounding faster. “You’re new here. I haven’t seen you before, welcome.”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

Y/N swallowed hard again, both began to walk together towards the exit. She just nodded, giving Leigh a chance to speak again. Maybe the brunette might socialize a bit, her mother and Jules always insisted so much. Surely would later regret it later.

Or maybe not.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“I understand the feeling, it’s kind of intimidating.” Leigh shrugged.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“Yeah… it’s something… it makes you feel exposed.” Y/N babbled  then opened the door for Leigh to go through first. They both talked for a while until Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. “Umh… Do you promise that if I tell you something you won’t get mad?”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“Promise.” Leigh smiled and raised her hand, it was incredible how they barely knew each other and they got along, even being quite friendly with that stranger.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“This isn’t the AA group by any chance, is it?” Y/N bit her bottom lip to hide a guilty and somewhat regretful smile.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“No, it’s not…that’s Wednesday at 6 pm.” Leigh frowned, somewhat amused. Of course she knew because Jules attended every Wednesday.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“Yeah… I realized that when everyone started talking and I… was embarrassed to leave. When I started listening to everyone talk about their losses, I felt really bad about it. I mean, I came to talk about how I couldn’t feel comfortable on birthdays or Christmas…”

She lied, again. It was so much better than having to explain, she wasn't going back to that damn meeting anyway. She would tell her boss that she did go, present evidence, and then goodbye.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

And although that would surely end up annoying Leigh so bad, and she would surely get mad for feeling so exposed by telling her story to someone who wasn’t even there for it, Y/N smiled when Leigh started laughing.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

It wasn’t a fake laugh, it was a pretty genuine laugh. And Y/N loved it. Y/N completely fell in love with it.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“It would be worse if you said ‘I only came here for coffee’.” Leigh joked. “Hi, I’m Y/N and I just came here for coffee and to see your sad mopey faces…” ㅤㅤㅤ    Y/N laughed somewhat surprised, glad that the brunette didn’t get mad at her.

ㅤㅤㅤ    “Maybe I do, the anguish revitalizes me and makes me younger. In fact, I am about fifty-two years old.” Y/N continued, walking together out of that building. Without even thinking about it, both were walking side by side, keeping each other company through the streets of Los Angeles. She took a sip from her cup but the coffee was cold. “This isn’t the best coffee tho, but it’s not that bad either…”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

Leigh thought for a moment, the sound of cars and footsteps made her lose herself. She strangely felt comfortable with a stranger she hadn’t known more than a few minutes ago. How many times that happened in her whole life? Maybe just one.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“Would you like to go to a place where both things are better? Coffee and donuts.” Leigh finally asked as she snatched the coffee out of her hand and tossed it into the nearest trash can.

ㅤㅤㅤ    Surprised at that, Y/N simply nodded and followed Leigh who seemed to know a good coffee place that was open 24 hours. ㅤㅤㅤ   

“So…” Y/N settled into her seat while she put two tablespoons of sugar in her coffee. “How long have you been in the group?”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“A year? I think so…” Leigh wrinkled her nose. “It’s not so bad, I know it's hard to start, but then... it helps.”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

Does it? Well, she wasn't going to deny that it helped to be able to share the pain with people who understand that too. Although at first she refused a lot.

ㅤㅤㅤ   

“They seem like a pretty nice group of people.” Y/N nodded slowly. “Why are you there?”

ㅤㅤㅤ   

Perhaps that question was more direct than expected, Y/N cursed herself. Silence for a moment was an answer enough.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry, I was too… you know. I… I'm not used to socializing yet.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It’s okay… I lost my husband a year ago.” Leigh set her coffee cup on the table and licked her lips. “It was quite a difficult time for me.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m sorry.” She sighed, seeing how Leigh just nodded, surely tired of hearing those words over and over again. 'Im sorry, sorry for your loss'. That’s exhausting. For a year, each person who crosses your path repeating how sorry they are. For what? They didn't kill Matt. He did. Or the cliff, whatever.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

“I wasn't looking just for the AA meeting.”  Y/N added, opening up to someone else for the first time. “I mean, I was too. I needed to go to one, but also… I did... I did lose someone. Two.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N cleared her throat, holding that cup with her hands. “It's more complicated than it seems.”

She lowered her gaze.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I see.” Leigh muttered. She didn't know what to say, Leigh wasn't the most talkative person in the world either. But the woman seemed nice, ever since she stopped talking to Becca it had been hard to socialize. Well, it always was.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I try to fool myself and people that I don't need it. I don't need to get over that loss because I already did, I mean, that's it, they’re dead but…” The dark-haired woman narrowed her eyes. “I didn't.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Leigh tried to smile but it just seems like an awkward expression, failing completely. She just stretched out her hand to squeeze that stranger's hand and then leaned back in her seat.

The song from the radio seemed to help with the long silence.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What’s the most weird or embarrassing song on your playlist?” Y/N finally broke the silence, an utterly bold move.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What?” Leigh frowned without understanding, maybe a smiling a bit because of how random that was.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on, are you afraid that I'll laugh?” Y/N challenged her, raising an eyebrow and smiling mischievously. “What's your guilty pleasure, Leigh Shaw?” She read the name tag on the brunette's jacket.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Far from bothering her, Leigh gladly accepted the challenge.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Barbie Girl by Aqua.” Leigh smiled victoriously. “You?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I never told you that I would tell you.” She teased, drinking her latte. “The baby shark song.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on!”  Leigh giggled.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Spice Up Your Life by Spice Girls. Oh, I love it.” Y/N shrugged and drank some of her coffee. “What Taylor Swift era are you in if you had to pick one?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, I don’t like Taylor Swift.” Leigh said trying to look disinterested but seeing Y/N's look, she just laughed. “Just kidding. Umh… I think I’m… Reputation?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah, you totally look like Rep.” Y/N nodded slowly.  “If you were an animal what would you be?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I- I don’t know.” The brunette licked her lips after finishing her coffee.  “Umh… maybe a… a bird. I could fly away, that's it.” She shrugged.  “What about you?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I would be a panda.” Y/N leaned back in her seat, narrowing her eyes as if she had made the best decision of her life, trying to make her laugh. And she did it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Cute and fat. Nice.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“And a loner, and really pissed off. Pandas look cute but they are always angry.”

ㅤ

"It must be the huge dark circles that don't let us see them."

ㅤㅤㅤ

And though she didn't want to admit it, Leigh seemed to be having a good time with this woman. Maybe a bit slow at first but Y/N seemed cool, and it might help if she knows someone in the grief group.

Between giggles and some weird but interesting questions, they both spent the time trying to get to know each other. And time goes by fast when you feel at ease.

Leigh told her that she was a writer, working on a book for some time but hadn't known how to continue.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N told her that she was having a 'break' from her job, as if her wounded ego wouldn't let her reveal that she wasn't allowed back unless she took a step away from alcoholism, self-hatred and pain.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, Leigh… Umh… Do you know what is white, black, white, black, black and white?” Y/N narrowed her eyes, hoping Leigh would fall for it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Mmm, no.” Leigh narrowed her eyes.  “Piano keys?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“A panda falling down the stairs.” Y/N bit her lower lip to keep from laughing at how stupid that joke sounded.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Despite the fact that that joke was pretty bad, Leigh began to laugh little by little, shaking her head. They both burst out laughing; the connection between the two of them had been instant and the warmth of the moment felt so genuine.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Finally someone was bursting her bubble in an unexpected way and it terrified her. Suddenly Leigh felt a deep pang in her chest. Her eyes filled with tears for a second, remembering the first time she met Matt.

What was she doing? What was she doing in that place?

ㅤㅤㅤ

The smile on Leigh's lips faded so quickly that it made Y/N's heart skip a beat. Did she say something wrong maybe?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry, I-I've to go.” Leigh babbled getting up from her chair and taking her jacket.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Surprised -and maybe a bit sad-, Y/N just nodded quickly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Of course, yeah.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She got up and stood in front of the brunette, looking into her green eyes for a moment. They didn't know what to say, just feeling that connection and having to cut it off was so… sad.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It was nice to meet you.” Leigh smiled nervously and grabbed her bag, turning to walk towards the door.  “See you in the group next week.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“See you, Shaw.” Y/N murmured, sitting back in the chair and looking thoughtful as she looked at her empty cup. This was not what she expected, not at all.

Was she doing something wrong? Had she gone too far? She'd just made her laugh! Leigh was beautiful but she wasn't trying to… push her.

ㅤㅤㅤ

What was she going to do there anyway? Y/N took her keys and her jacket and left the café, to go back home before it was late. Maybe tomorrow would be a different day.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But when she returned home, loneliness invaded her completely. Like a dark misterious being, caught her i its cloak, drowning her in misery. That desolate apartment made Y/N’s heart slowly sink.

Y/N took a deep breath and walked to the fridge, seeing only thing she had was beer cans and some old food.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N took the beer to the sink, looking at them for a moment.

ㅤㅤㅤ

What to do? What to feel? She needed to drown all those negative feelings inside of her, and the only way to numb them was... that.

But unlike other heartbreaking nights, now there was something else on her mind. Something that aroused her interest, even if she didn't know it yet.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N took the beers and one by one poured them into the sink, letting them go. Part of her said no, leave some, at least one in case someone ever came along or something. Or drink just one and throw everything Or perhaps better drink one and throw away all the rest, one more. The last one.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She tilted her head to see the photograph on the nearest cabinet, an adorable photograph of her and two other women, hugging in front of the beach. One was redhead and the other brunette. The three of them laughed, making funny faces. ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N remembered the time Nat and Jules invited her to go to the beach that weekend, although Y/N refused saying that they should 'make it a romantic trip', they just wanted to spend time with her.

That weekend they spent one of the best days of her life, ending it with that photograph in a beautiful sunset in front of the beach.

ㅤㅤㅤ

This is what they would have wanted.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing, Y/N dropped the rest of the beers and took the phone to order something to eat, other than a piece of cheese and bread. And although she didn't want to think about it, that night Y/N lay in bed thinking about that woman, and that perhaps it wouldn't be bad to visit the group again next week.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Anyone else want to share something with us?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thomas?” Janet asked but the man just shook his head, he wasn't ready to do it. Now the gaze of Janet fell on her. Y/N settled into her seat, surely Janet noticed how she moved her leg anxiously.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Y/N? Would you like to tell us something?” Her voice was so warm that Y/N had to stop herelf from telling her to fuck off for it.

ㅤㅤㅤ It had been quite a difficult week. Y/N believed that by throw away every bottle and presenting a paper that said that she attended ONE meeting, her boss was going to accept it, but it wasn’t like that at all.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Swallowing, she just tilted her gaze. “I’m angry.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Being angry is good, it's good to allow ourselves positive but also negative feelings.” Janet nodded, and the others around her did the same. All those looks on her, just made it feel like some kind of experiment.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m so angry. Because I want to go back to my life, to my work and I have to be here.” She let out again, not knowing why she was saying all that. Y/N just knew that every word was escaping from her mouth and couldn't control it.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Everyone around her listened attentively, including Leigh, who was in front of her with a coffee in her hand.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Everyone looking at me like I'm a fucking guinea pig or something. Okay, wanna know? Let's see... I lost my whole life thanks to alcoholism.” Y/N frowned, thinking how far she had come. How is it that everything changed so much from one moment to the next? “And I fell into alcoholism because I lost my sister and my best friend at the same time. Also my parents treated me like shit.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Leigh, who was staring at her, felt a little sorry, understanding the woman a bit more now. Everyone there did it, in their own way, everyone suffered an irreparable loss but slowly they tried to heal.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“My sister died a short time ago. Sh- she wasn't my biological sister, but she was my sister.” Y/N sighed deeply, entering a rather complicated field. Her lip twitched. “As I said, a year ago.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Everyone listened carefully and said nothing, when someone opened up like that it was important that they feel heard.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Julia.” Y/N swallowed at the thought of her best friend, her sister. “That was her name, we called her Jules, she was wonderful. A lovely human being, she had a lovely wife too. They died… and I'm here.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

That name made Leigh look at her, having her full attention. As if fate somehow played a trick on them. ㅤㅤㅤ

“We were together since elementary school, always… She was there for me more than anyone.” You could tell that talking about it hurt deeply, Y/N swallowed and narrowed her eyes several times to keep from crying. “Even when I said that my dream was to be a firefighter, she decided to come along and support me. Although she chose to be a paramedic, so we could be together.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N felt her lips tremble and how those eyes filled with tears but she tried to stay strong because she couldn't cry in front of all those people, could she? Come on. ㅤㅤㅤ “There was a gas leak in a building... then there was a big explosion.  We were there.” Tears began to fall but she was too exhausted to wipe them away or hide them. “She and her wife Nat died… They died and I’m here.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She hated having to be the center of attention, feeling like an 'attention whore' or something. But once she started expressing what she felt, she couldn't stop. Because she no longer had anyone to talk to.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I’m still here and I sometimes I hate it.” She sniffled. "If we were a team… why didn't they take me too?"

ㅤㅤㅤ “I spent so much time thinking that… that maybe I'm just crazy. That maybe she's not gone. She’ll come around the corner any second, smiling at me.” Y/N smiled at the memory that came to mind.  “Ma- Making fun of how I usually breathe through my mouth when I eat, she says I look like a fish out of water.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N laughed through tears.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Since that day my head has not stopped telling me that it is better to get away from everyone before they abandon me.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

She felt a soft hand resting on her shoulder and for a moment she thought about leaving, but seeing that the old lady only wanted to comfort her, Y/N just let it happen.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“And I'm mad at myself and everyone.”  Y/N looked down. “Especially my boss who won't let me go back to work and be able to save people. That’s it.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you, Y/N. For your sacrifice and for sharing this with us.”  Janet said and they all repeated again, nodding.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“It is important to be able to express what we feel in order to move forward.” Janet smiled kindly. “Denial and anger are two huge steps towards acceptance.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing deeply and managing to calm down, Y/N nodded and dried her tears with a tissue that the kind old lady offered her, making the woman smile a bit.

After the group finished, Y/N left the place feeling the load on her back slightly lessen. Not much, but enough to take the first step out of darkness.

ㅤㅤㅤ

She noticed how Leigh waited, sitting on the stairs. Scrolling down her phone.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey.” The brunette stood up when she saw her, smiling kindly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Hey, Shaw.” Y/N stood next to her, her heart beats faster but she told herself that it was surely because she was crying before. “Did you run out of gasoline?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“No, I just took an Uber today, I didn't feel like driving.” Leigh wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms, as she began to walk with Y/N. “I'm glad you could express what you feel.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sure.” Y/N smirked, while playing with the keys of her motorcycle.  “Crying like a child in front of a group of people I don't know isn't too bad.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“But do you feel better?” Leigh arched an eyebrow.

ㅤㅤㅤ

They stopped when Y/N reached her motorcycle and she got on it. “Yeah…”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Oh, this is yours?” Leigh pointed at the motorcycle in surprise.  “I thought it was from some bearded drunk old man who mistook this place for a biker bar.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

The brunette joked and within seconds she realized what she just said, but Y/N just bit her lower lip trying not to laugh. 

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Sorry, too soon for someone recovering from… alcoholism. Fuck.” Leigh had always been too direct and perhaps a little cruel at times, even if she didn't want to.

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N finally laughed at that joke, holding the helmet in her hands. “It’s okay, it wasn’t that bad. I’m not a baby.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Good then.” Leigh turned to walk away but stopped to say something else. “Y/N?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Yeah?” She looked up as she started the bike and made it roar.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“How can you want to save someone if you don't do something to save yourself?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Perhaps one of the best questions she had ever heard. Leigh raised an eyebrow and smiled victoriously.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“What are you some kind of cheap shrink or something?” Y/N growled.

ㅤㅤㅤ Leigh shrugged. “I have an advice column on a website. That must give me some kind of value to my words, right?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Y/N gave a small laugh. “Yeah, it shows.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing deeply, Y/N handed the helmet to the brunette who looked at her blankly.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on, sunflower.” Y/N made the bike roar, but Leigh still didn't move. That nickname made her narrow her eyes, not knowing how to take it.  “I'll take you home, okay?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“I'm not going to get on that.” Leigh rolled her eyes, she was definitely not going to get on a bike with a stranger -not so stranger- and much less at night. What was she? One of those bitches from Grand Theft Auto?

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Come on! It's dark and the Ubers will take time, plus you could get any psycho here.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

Sighing in defeat, Leigh snatched the helmet from her hands in complete annoyance. Y/N helped and when she was ready, she drove through the city to the brunette's house.

It wasn't too far from her house, so that wasn't too bad.

Once they arrived, Leigh hurried to get off the motorcycle and removed her helmet, afraid someone would see her. Especially her nosy mother or sister.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Thank you.” Leigh said quickly, arranging her hair a bit.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“You are welcome.” The dark-haired woman smiled and nodded. “Not bad for a biker.”

ㅤㅤㅤ

But far from laughing, Leigh just rolled her eyes and then saw how Y/N started her motorcycle again, ready to go.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why?” the brunette asked, making Y/N to look at her, confused.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why what?”

ㅤㅤㅤ

“Why did you call me sunflower?” She frowned blankly. She had to know or her doubt would eat her up all week.

ㅤㅤㅤ

But this time, the one who smiled victoriously was Y/N.

ㅤㅤㅤ

“See you next week, Shaw.” She just looked straight ahead and drove away from that house, leaving Leigh behind.

🌼 cute people i'm gonna tag here: 🌼 @oh-thats-cute - @katiemay-025 - @imnotasuperhero - @marvelogic

[illuminatedquill]

Cyar'ika

A Sabine Wren & Ezra Bridger Story

Story Summary: Takes place during Ahsoka Season 2. Making a hasty exit from Peridea, Sabine Wren and Ezra Bridger are finally heading home together - only without Ahsoka, who elected to stay behind to finish the mission she started. Feeling lost without the presence of her Master and the grim ordeal of facing Thrawn's resurgent Empire ahead, Sabine is facing her lowest point yet. However, her trial is just beginning as Ezra finally confronts his closest friend with the knowledge about her deal with Thrawn. And the conversation that follows will change everything between them.

*Fan-art by the amazing @rancidsugar! Used here with their permission, since it directly inspired this fanfic.

Author’s Note: With the fantastic news that Ahsoka S2 is now in development, I finally decided to take a crack at writing the next reunion for our favorite duo. It’s a long time coming, and we all know Sabine needs to come clean with Ezra about certain things she’s been hiding from him. Let’s see how he responds.

The star whale's mouth gaped open, as Huyang maneuvered the T-6 shuttle into its mouth. Sabine held her breath as the vessel slipped inside, warily keeping an eye on the enormous teeth that hovered directly over them.

"Easy does it," muttered Ezra. He stood between her and Huyang in the shuttle's cockpit, eyes closed and hand outstretched; through the Force, Sabine could feel her friend communicating with the purrgil. Reassuring waves of calm and peace flowed through the bond he had with the majestic beast, making sure that they were not crunched between its massive jaws.

Sabine gazed in admiration at Ezra's competence, in the easy confidence he had in his abilities. He had grown so much in his time away from home and truly become the Jedi that Kanan wished him to be.

He would be so proud of you, she thought with a pang of melancholy. Not for the first time, she wished Kanan was here to witness all of this.

Her thoughts turned to her own master, Ahsoka Tano, who had elected to stay behind to finish her task on Peridea. Sabine felt guilt trickle into her emotions, remembering their last conversation before she left.

"We're supposed to stick together, remember? I'm not leaving you."

"Thrawn is your mission. What's happening here on Peridea is mine. I must see this through. And Ezra will need your help in defeating Thrawn."

"I can't do this without you, master. There's so much more I need to learn."

"You already know everything you need. I have nothing more to offer you than this: just be yourself, Sabine. That's more than enough."

She closed her eyes, feeling the pang of melancholy sharpen into grief. Once again, another loved one had gone and there was nothing she could do about it.

As if reading her thoughts, Huyang said, "Do not grieve for Lady Tano, Sabine. She was only able to make her choice because of you."

"You mean it was my fault," said Sabine bitterly.

"Not at all. It is because you are going home that she was able to stay on Peridea to deal with the threat there. She trusted you, Sabine Wren, to deal with Thrawn."

You know I can always count on you, right?

Sabine felt a small smile escape through the gloom of her feelings, remembering the young boy who had uttered those words a long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away . . .

Ahsoka had told her the same in their last conversation. Her master was counting on her to see this through. And she would. She promised herself, and to Ahsoka, that she would do whatever it takes to ensure that it was done.

And then she would bring Ahsoka home, so they could all finally live in peace.

The shuttle shuddered and a bright spectrum of lights filled the cabin; Sabine squinted her eyes at the dazzling array, almost blinded by the light show in front of them.

"Here we go," said Ezra. She looked at him, seeing the satisfied smile on his face. Sabine, not able to help herself, reached forward and squeezed his hand.

Ezra turned to look at her. "Thanks for coming back," she said.

He squeezed her hand back affectionately. "Did it in record time, too," he teased. "What's your excuse?"

Sabine rolled her eyes. "There was a war still going on, remember?"

"Uh-huh," replied Ezra, sounding unconvinced. "I guess I'll let it slide."

"This will take a while," Huyang said, interrupting their banter. "Ezra, if you would please tend to Lady Wren's injuries? I will stay here and keep an eye on things while you two rest."

Sabine blinked and then a wave of exhaustion and pain swept over her; she had forgotten how desperate their escape had been until now when Huyang had said something.

Ezra blinked and muttered a curse. "Right. Sorry, Sabine." He reached forward and lifted her from the co-pilot seat. She started to protest but another wave of exhaustion slipped past her defenses and only a weak mumble escaped her lips as Ezra carried her to the med-bay.

"You're awfully quiet," observed Sabine while he finished patching up her wounds some time later.

Ezra carefully applied a final bandage to a cut on her right upper forearm before replying, "Huyang's right. You shouldn't beat yourself up about Ahsoka. She needed to stay. And you needed to go home."

He sat back and double-checked his handiwork. "Can you walk?"

Sabine attempted to sit up from the medical bed but was immediately faced with a dozen sharp pinpricks of pain from all over her body. "You mean today?" she asked through gritted teeth.

Ezra smiled briefly at her attempt at humor before saying, "Bedrest it is, then."

Sabine grimaced but laid back in the bed. "This is doing wonders for my confidence," she muttered.

Ezra reached out and held her hand. "Surviving Peridea is an achievement only a few can claim. It's an exclusive club, Sabine. You're now a part of it."

She snorted. "Well," she mused, "if Thrawn can do it, then I sure as hell can."

At the mention of Thrawn, she saw Ezra's face become troubled. A flash of insight from the Force revealed something dark roiling beneath Ezra's confidence . . .

"What is it?" she asked quietly. "I felt that."

Ezra let go of her hand and sat back in his chair. She could practically see the gears whirring away inside his head as he thought through some particularly difficult decision.

Finally, he seemed to make up his mind. "I found the purrgils," he said slowly.

"I can see that," replied Sabine. "Seeing as though we're in one."

Ezra reached up to rub the back of his head. He's nervous about something, she noted. Her stomach began to sink, feeling the direction of his thoughts; small seeds of doubt were sprouting in his mind.

About her.

He looked up at her. "So did Thrawn," he said.

She inhaled sharply. "He was there?"

Ezra nodded. "He guessed what my next move was. I managed to get ahead of him, thanks to Hera's intervention but . . ."

"But what, Ezra?" Sabine felt like she didn't want to know the answer.

He reached down to his belt and took out his comm-link. "He sent me a message," he said quietly.

Ezra clicked on the comm-link and a conversation began to play.

Thrawn: "I must congratulate you on your success today, Ezra Bridger. You've shown great loyalty to your friends, Sabine Wren and Ahsoka Tano."

Ezra: "Not that you would understand anything about that. I'll be seeing you later, Grand Admiral."

Thrawn: "Indeed you will. Perhaps to a changed galaxy. All thanks to your friend, Sabine. How different things would be if she did not care so much about you."

Ezra: ". . . What's that supposed to mean?"

Thrawn: "Oh, she didn't tell you? Unfortunate. Be sure to give her my thanks when you reunite."

The recording stopped. Ezra gazed at Sabine, eyes unreadable, waiting for her answer.

Sabine couldn't bring herself to look at him. She just stared at the comm-link in his hand, wanting to be anywhere else than here, wanting a black hole to emerge and suck her into its void. Any hell would be preferable instead of having to face an Ezra who knew about what she had done.

"Sabine." His voice was soft, not accusatory. Almost pleading.

At last, she finally found her voice, weak as it was. "What do you want me to say, Ezra?" she asked. "Do you want me to apologize?"

"I want you to say whatever it is you want to say. I'm just going to listen," he said.

She folded her arms over her stomach; it felt like everything important inside her was threatening to spill out. "I'm not going to apologize," she whispered.

"Okay," was all he said.

"You weren't there. I had to make a choice. No one else was there. It was just me. Ahsoka - I thought Baylan had killed her. She was gone. And you were still gone, and I had the map." She hated how desperate her voice sounded.

Ezra, true to his word, didn't say anything. He just watched her.

"I couldn't lose you like I lost my family. Like how I thought I had lost Ahsoka. I wasn't - I wasn't strong enough to lose you a second time. My best friend." Tears threatened to blur her vision; a sob, rising in her throat steadily, almost robbed her voice of what little strength it had. She fought through it.

"So, I handed the map over. I made the deal with Thrawn to find you. I betrayed everything you and Kanan and everyone else sacrificed and died for. All just so I could see you again."

At last, she turned to look at him. The tears fell freely now down her face. "I doomed the galaxy for you, Ezra Bridger. And the worst part of it is, I'd do it again. Even knowing how it would all end."

Ezra gazed at her for a long moment and then turned away. Sabine struggled to sit-up and pleaded, "Ezra, please say something. Say anything."

He stood up abruptly. She blinked at him in surprise. "Say that you hate me and just get this over with," she said, resigned. Her heart was breaking into a thousand pieces but this was the price she knew would be paid the moment the map left her hand.

He stood over her. She waited for him to say the words that would end their friendship.

Instead, he clasped his hands over the sides of her face and leaned forward, gently touching his forehead with hers. Her eyes widened with surprise - and then with overwhelming gratitude as she felt the love and reassurance from him flow through their bond in the Force.

Sabine couldn't hold it back anymore. She started to openly weep. "After all this?" she cried. "Even with all that I've done?"

"Always," he reassured her. "I forgive you. Always. It'll be okay, Sabine. We'll figure it out, together."

"I'm weak," she said. "I did something so bad."

"You are not weak," replied Ezra firmly. "You are enough. You are extraordinary, Sabine. And it's not like I haven't done things I regret, you know? The Sith Holocron, you remember?"

Sabine shook her head. "This isn't the same! This is the whole galaxy that's at stake."

Ezra chuckled. "It's not a competition, first of all. And when hasn't the galaxy been at stake? We've dealt with Thrawn before, we'll do it again."

The guilt surged up within her, refusing to be assuaged by his words. "But - "

"But nothing," Ezra said sternly. "Sabine. Listen to me. Did you build the gigantic hyperdrive ring that Thrawn used to get back?"

She stared at him, thrown off by the sudden question. "Uh, no."

"Did you put Morgan Elsbeth onto his path as a partner? Did you hire Baylan and Shin?"

Sabine saw where his line of questions was heading. Grimacing, she said, "No, but - "

Ezra interrupted her. "Yes, you had a role in his return. But not all of it belongs to you, do you understand? He couldn't have returned without a lot of help, not just you."

"Okay, okay." She held up her hands in a placating gesture. "I get it. I think."

"Good," he said. "No more feeling guilty. We need to be focused for what lies ahead."

Sabine looked at him. "We?" she asked.

He nodded. "You're stuck with me, Sabine Wren. Whether you like it or not."

She smiled, considering his words. "I guess that's not so bad." She looked him over and shook her head in amazement.

"What is it?" Ezra asked.

"When did you grow up so quickly, goober?" she asked.

He grinned at her. "Haven't heard that nickname in a while. Since we were kids," he said.

"Yeah," she said. "Guess I can't really call you that anymore, huh."

Ezra winked at her. "You can call me whatever you like, Sabine."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "I'll think about it," she said. Suddenly, her stomach rumbled, interrupting the conversation. Sabine flushed with embarrassment.

Ezra laughed. "I'll heat up some food. Be right back."

Watching him leave, the moment he was out of earshot, Sabine said softly, "I'll be here, cyar'ika."

[h-c-u]

Eye of the storm pt 3

Summary: You start to think about other things than your father's death, and Beau helps, without even realising how much. Oh, and there is a first kiss in this one :)

Pairing: Beau “Cyclone” Simpson x fem!reader (Iceman’s daughter)

W/C: 9.1k

Rating: PG, age gap, canon character’s death (Tom Kazansky)

TWs: Grief, unnamed ED, Panic attacks.

A/N: It took me a while, but it's here... I think 2, maybe 3 more parts and the story I wanted to tell will be done.

Part 1 | Part 2 Masterlist | List of tags | Eye of the storm playlist 

- Cyclone! You there? - the loud banging at the door instantly jolted both of you awake, and you looked at Beau, fear painted all over your face. He only clenched his jaw and went to open the door, ready to deal with all the possible consequences, but you were not... So instead of facing the reality just yet, you hid completely under the covers, making sure that every part of your body was completely hidden. Logically you knew that there were signs that he wasn't exactly alone in the room, but without your face, it would be pretty hard to connect them to you. You didn't know that, but before he opened the door, he took one last look at you and smiled only seeing bundled-up bedding.

- What? - he asked, his voice completely void of emotions.

- You're late. It's 8:20. The call. - a familiar voice said, but you couldn't fully place it.

- Shit. I overslept. I'll be there in 5. - he panicked a little but already had a plan forming in his head.

- Mark that day in a calendar, everyone! Vice-Admiral Beau Simpson overslept! - the faceless voice laughed, and you couldn't help but chuckle. Now that you thought about it, he was always first in the room whenever he had a meeting with your dad. And he was always prepared and ready to go.

- Yeah, yeah... Make all the jokes you want, Sol. But make them from somewhere where you won't see me change. - Sol... Solomon Bates. You were finally able to connect the voice to the name. You only knew him in passing, that's why you didn't recognize his voice at first.

You heard the door closing, and you felt safe enough to peek from under the covers. He was quickly preparing to leave, and you wanted to try something truly evil. When he was still in the bathroom, you took one of his tan uniforms from the wardrobe and passed the folded clothes through the open door. You watched him quickly change from shorts into pants, putting on a t-shirt, but when it came to the beige shirt, you stopped him from doing the buttons and did them yourself, while he diligently watched every move of your fingers. Even though he was already almost late, and he knew that he could do them quicker, he'd much rather have you take care of that. You also pinned his ribbons and wings, as you did so many times in the past for your dad, so you knew the exact placement.

After you finished, he tucked the shirt into his pants and moved past you to find and put on the shoes, while you stood next to the door, patiently waiting on your tippy toes for your chance to execute the evil plan.

He eventually was ready to head out, but before he had the chance to open the door, you took his right hand into yours stopping him for just a moment before he left, and snaked your other hand onto his neck, gently pulling him closer.

He didn't even register what was happening, because he got so used to your presence and your touch. Everything you did with him just felt... right. But then he was out the door and had already taken four steps into the long corridor when it hit him so hard that he instantly stopped. You kissed him... It was quick and soft, just a peck on the lips, but definitely planned and intentional, not driven by overwhelming emotions. And he kissed you back as if he did it million times before... The blood immediately rushed to his face, and he could feel the warmth spilling into his chest. Only when someone saluted him in passing, he realized that in two minutes he was supposed to be deciding the fates of possible new Top Gun recruits. He fought with himself for a good moment, because his whole body was screaming at him to back and kiss you properly, but instead, he clenched his jaw, took two deep breaths to calm himself, and quickly walked in a direction of conference room number one. And while the blush disappeared from his cheeks, the giant smile stayed there for the whole duration of the call, to the point that even Solomon found it a bit unnerving.

And while he started working, you were still standing with your back against the closed door, with your fingers touching the exact place where your lips met, the sensation of it now forever carved in your memory. You honestly thought that he would stop you, but when instead he put his hand on your hip and leaned down to kiss you, you forgot how to breathe for a moment, and that weird feeling in your stomach appeared... Not exactly butterflies, but the one when you're in a car riding quickly, and there was a small hill or a bump... And for a short perfect moment, you felt light as a feather, and you could fly away to reach the heights you never dreamt of. And that’s what it was... A perfect little moment, tucked into months voided of colors…

It took you good twenty minutes to finally peel yourself from the door, but instead of going back to bed, you actually made it. Not to the military standards, of that you were sure, but at least it looked presentable. You took the packet of almonds, and at first, your hand also reached for your dad's journal, but it stopped, only hovering over it... After a moment without movement, you instead reached for a sketchbook and pencils... If you were at your place, you would have reached for watercolors, because for the first time in months, you were more in a mood for something other than blacks or greys.

Well... Postmates existed... Question was, would they be able to enter the base, or would you have to meet them at the gate? You put down the sketchbook back on the desk, took your phone, unlocked it, and immediately got overwhelmed by the number of notifications that appeared on the screen. At first, you froze, but because of the subtle scent of spruce all over you, you were able to start chipping at this giant iceberg. Most of the notifications came from the apps, so they were easy to deal with. Next came text messages. Mostly from your mother, brother, and a few close friends, which were still updating you, even though you were not replying. The majority of other texts contained condolences, but since they were from people you barely knew, you just... Ignored them. It seemed much less weird than replying "Thank you" after over two months.

With a heavy sigh, you finally opened the messages from Nick and scrolled to the first unread one... Which was a meme with his cat containing four pictures of him with his head in the pack of chips, looking in different directions, evidently confused, because he couldn’t figure out how to take the bag off, with the caption "Father...? Father!? Why have you forsaken me...?". You couldn't help but chuckle a bit. After a week of nothing, there was a short video from a hike, showing the landscape from somewhere high up; you didn't recognize it though. Next, there was another video, this time of his cat again, who tried to throw a speaker from the desk, but instead of achieving that, he himself fell off the desk. And message after message, video after video, meme after meme you finally got through the whole conversation. The last one was from just a couple of hours ago when the sun was still hidden behind the horizon. There was a small bonfire with his voiceover. "Hey... I know it's been some time since we saw each other, but mum told me that we'll be clearing dad’s office together. And I just wanted to let you know that I'm here for you no matter what, and I miss you terribly... I hope to see you then, but if you're not ready..." his voice cracked a bit, and that hurt you more than you expected. "If you're not ready, then you're not ready. I just hope you're getting through it...". The video ended and you were left with an emptiness in your heart, because only now you realized that along with losing his dad, Nicky also lost his sister. You were so engulfed in your own sorrow, that you didn't even think about it, cutting everything and everyone off... You instantly pressed the icon starting the video call and straightened yourself in the armchair.

He answered almost immediately. The video was choppy at his end, but you were still able to see that he was somewhere in the forest.

- Siema siostra! - you rarely saw him so excited, and you just couldn't help but laugh a bit. ��� Finally, rose from the dead? Shit. Sorry. - he realized what he said as soon as the words left his mouth, and if you heard it just a week ago, you would have had a full-blown panic attack, but now, still feeling the gentle touch on your lips, you were... fine.

- Figure of speech, I get it. - you gave him a faint smile, and he finally stopped walking. - And I am slowly getting through it... - you circled back to the last video you received from him.

- That's good to hear, good to hear... - he looked at the camera and smiled. - Where are you by the way? Mum was going crazy yesterday... - you sighed quietly. There was no sense in lying to him because he knew you far too well to believe you when you were bullshitting.

- I'm on base, but I'm... well... in hiding. You know since I'm not exactly supposed to be here. I have help though! And I'm actually eating! - he knew that there were periods when you had real troubles with that because he was usually the first one to notice when you weren't... He was a great older brother, even though you basically hated each other's guts when you were growing up, and it took a lot of time for you to get to the place you were now.

- My sister, a secret agent man... - he genuinely laughed, but didn't dig any deeper, even though you knew he knew you weren't saying the whole trough. - Wha... tr... eve... pl...

- Nicky, you're cutting out... - you tried to refresh the feed, but it looked like he was too deep in the forest to have good reception.

- Recep... it... - and the call dropped. You instantly got a message from him. "The reception is shit, sorry. It was good to see you. I'll call tomorrow evening, pinky promise."

You smiled and replied that it was good to see him too...

And now that your messages were taken care of, you got to the final beast, which was your emails... Again, there were a lot of condolences, but along with them, there were also a lot from your agent, about every single sale, and you couldn't believe how many of them he sent you... Usually, you were able to sell 4, maybe 6 paintings per month, but considering their usual prices, you were actually more than financially comfortable, but you just didn't care about that. And here there were... 80 paintings sold, almost all you had listed. You honestly couldn't believe it... Over 5 years of work sold in just two months. And then you realized what probably happened. Your dad's death was on the news... Since "Kazansky" wasn't exactly a popular last name, more people were finding you because of his death...

And that was enough to make your heart sink deeper into your chest.

In the last email, your agent mentioned that a gallery wanted to contact you regarding a possible exhibit, which under any other circumstances would have been amazing, but now everything was tainted, and you weren't even sure if you wanted to sell anything anymore... So instead of ordering paints and a small canvas, you put your phone down and reached for a journal that you had already memorized and started re-reading it with your knees under your chin; the unopened pack of almonds already forgotten.

Beau came back around noon, and as soon as he saw the tears streaming down your cheeks, the ones you didn't even notice for the last hour, he kneeled in front of you and after putting the tray with food on the desk, took the journal out of your hands, and forced you to look him in the eyes... Which opened the dam, and you started sobbing, finally allowing yourself to break down. You leaned forward and desperately reached for him, and he pulled you closer, allowing your arms to find their way around his body, and your face to hide in his neck...

- Shhh... Shhhh... It's ok, you're ok... - he whispered, slid his strong arms under you, and turned both of you around in such a way, that you were currently sitting on him, while he was sitting on the floor. - Can you tell me what happened? - he asked, not letting you go even for a second, and trying to soothe you by gently rubbing your back and swaying front and back, but you weren't ready to say anything just yet... Seeing you in this state was breaking his heart, and his chest actually ached, because the helplessness was turning into physical pain. He wanted, needed, to help you, but he couldn't do anything except just being there for you.

It took some time, but you eventually calmed down, and he rubbed the tears from your cheeks for the millionth time, but it was the first time you actually were aware that he was doing it...

- Did you know that I paint...? - you asked, your voice still shaky and quiet. He nodded and allowed you to explain. - I even have an agent. And I finally got through the emails from him. Over 250 of them to be exact... 3 per painting... One with all the offers, one with the winning bid, and one with confirmation of payment... Over 80 paintings sold in two months, because people heard my dad's last name on the news... - you started crying again, even the thought of it too heavy to bear alone. And fortunately, you didn't have to say anything more, because Beau understood what you meant.

- Would he blame you for being happy, or would he be proud of your success? - he asked quietly. Logically you knew that your dad would never want to see you the way you were now... All broken, overwhelmed by guilt, and unable to function... Especially if he knew that he was the reason you were like that. He would be ready to do anything just so you could be better... Except not dying...

Did you actually blame him for dying and leaving you alone?

Even thinking that scared you, because that was the last thing you wanted to do... You knew how much he suffered, you were there to witness all the pain, the guilt, the helplessness. You knew it wasn't his fault... But... That accusatory feeling somehow snaked its way into your brain and coiled around your grief unnoticed until now.

Logically you knew that it wasn't his fault, that he didn't choose it. For fucks sake, he fought till there was no hope left... He went through all the treatments, all procedures, and searched for international trials; he didn't just... give up. And yet... you couldn't help what you felt and that made you cry even harder because now you were getting angry at yourself, for even thinking like that. It wasn't rational, you knew that, but those emotions didn't want to just disappear.

- I'm sorry, I don't know what I'm talking about... - Beau whispered and hugged you even harder, almost crushing you in his arms.

- It's... It's not you... It's my fucking stupid brain. - you said in between sobs. - You're amazing... I'm... I don't deserve... - you couldn't even finish that sentence, because another wave pulled you under the surface and you lost the ability to think about anything coherent. There were just negative emotions festering in your head and you couldn't even let them out... You didn't even know how...

- Scream... - his voice managed to get through all the walls you were building up in real-time, and the meaning of it confused you enough, that for just a moment you came back to reality. You wanted to ask something along "what...?" but the word didn't manage to get through the giant ball in your throat - Scream. Just scream. As loud and as you can. - you were still confused, and Beau seemed to read your mind because he added. - There is no one in this part of the base, everyone is either eating or in training. Scream. - and that was enough...

At first, you struggled to get any sound out. Then it was strained and quiet, but after you took a deep breath and opened your mouth again, a full-blown, primal scream left your lungs. It was filled with anger, shame, guilt, blame... All the things that were stewing in your brain packaged not so neatly in one action.

You didn't even realize when you got out of his embrace, but you found yourself kneeling on the floor, screaming at it, as if was all its fault. You stayed like that until there were no more tears left, and no more voices in your brain, not even your own... You simply collapsed and Beau scooped you up again. You wanted to thank him, say anything, but your voice was long gone, and it would be a moment till it comes back.

You were exhausted, so you were more than grateful when he put you under the covers and kneeled, so your faces were on the same level. He wiped the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, and you gently wrapped your fingers around his hand while it was still in contact with your skin, guided it to your lips and - without breaking eye contact - pressed a soft kiss to the back of it. You were ready to let go of him, but instead, he mirrored your actions by pulling both of your hands closer to him and pressing a soft kiss to your hand.

- I hate leaving you... - he whispered against your soft skin and closed his eyes, taking in both the sensation and your scent. - Go to sleep, babygirl... - there was that pet name again... In his mouth, it sounded so soft and full of something you weren't ready to name yet. You definitely didn't mind it, but you were never called that before, so getting used to it might take a moment.

He returned your hand close to your chest but didn't move until your breathing changed to a familiar pattern that showed up when you were asleep. He didn't want to leave when you were still conscious, because he was afraid you might start to spiral again... And considering how much energy the last hour took from you, he doubted you'll be awake when he'll finish working, which wasn't ideal because you haven't eaten today yet, but he knew forcing you to do so right now would not be good. But he still came back in around 10 minutes and brought a thermal mug full of tea with ginger and honey.

Beau was right because when he came back after a full day of working, you were still in the same position and nothing in the room changed. He took his thermal mug from where he left it, and gently cupped your face, trying to wake you up.

When you opened your eyes and he was the first thing you saw, you couldn't help but smile, for a short blissful moment forgetting about what happened earlier. He took your hand in his and placed it on a mug. You wanted to thank him, but your voice was lost, and the memory of what happened flooded back into your brain, and all the thoughts and emotions came back with it. You froze and he seemed to know exactly what was happening in your head.

He helped you sit up, unlocked the mug, gently guided it to your lips, and you took a first sip of a pleasantly hot tea. And then another one... The warmth of it mixed with honey soothed your throat, and you were finally able to say something.

- I'm sorry... - by his expression, you instantly realized that it was the wrong thing to say.

- You have nothing to apologize for. Everyone is grieving in different ways, and yours is not wrong. - he gave you the softest of smiles, and you leaned in a bit to press your foreheads together, a memory from today's morning slithering its way into your brain, but neither of you did anything more. That small gesture was more than enough, and it was comforting you in ways you couldn't even describe.

- I feel like I'm a burden... Like I only take and take from you... - you closed your eyes because it was the only way to break eye contact without putting space in between your foreheads.

- You could never be a burden to me, no matter what... - he whispered so quietly, that if you were just a bit further away, you wouldn't be able to hear it, but you did... And it sounded like something he was afraid to admit even in front of himself, not to mention you. You opened your eyes again, wanting to gaze into his, but they were closed. You wanted to ask why he said that, but you already knew the answer... And you definitely weren't ready to hear it from his mouth...

- It's Friday today, isn't it...? - you asked, and you felt him nodding. - And you're not working on weekends, correct?

- We can stay here, that won't be an issue. - he said, his voice more confident.

- That's not why I'm asking... Can... - you couldn't believe what you were about to say. - Can you take me to your place...? - his eyes shot open, and he leaned back in shock.

- God yes! - he answered with relief before you even finished asking the question. - Don't get me wrong, I enjoy having you here, but everything is... - before you realized what you were doing, you leaned in and kissed him, stopping his rant in its tracks.

Your hand instinctively found its way into his hair, while the other rested lightly on his shoulder. Suddenly you were aware of everything your body experienced... The rough material under your fingers, the smoothness of his hair, the warmth of his neck, the softness of his lips, so ready to invite you in… And you dove deep, without even thinking; chasing the sensation that was both new and familiar. Your heart was galloping faster and faster with every tender touch, the warmth in your chest turned into a roaring fire and your head was among the clouds because, with every breath you shared, you got higher and higher.

He was devouring you in ways you never thought possible, his hands pulling you closer by your hips. He was frantic and delicate at the same time as if he was restraining himself in fear of somehow hurting you, but you didn't want that... You wanted him to be real, to know who and what he was like under this hard shell he shared with the world, so you bit his lower lip and pulled on it gently, a soft smile blooming on your face. He responded with a low growl, followed your movements, and caught you in another kiss, this time more impatient, more hungry, more... messy... And you gave right in, allowing him to lead the dance your tongues shared until you were properly out of breath. But even after your lips parted, your skin was tingling all over, and there was that feeling in your stomach again, while so many colors flooded your brain.

- I need to ask you to do things for me more often... - you finally broke the silence, and he chuckled in response.

- Yeah, it was definitely worth the wait... - he was still kneeling on the floor in between your legs, and you didn't even realize when your ankles found their way around his thighs.

- How long have you been waiting for it... exactly...? - you asked in a joking matter, pressing your foreheads together again in search of the echo of that intimacy.

- I plead the 5th... - he laughed softly in response, but you knew one day he'll tell you everything, but now he was still afraid you would run away if you knew. - Fuck, I feel like a teenager again. - he moved one of his hands to your cheek and gently caressed your skin with his thumb, and you leaned into that touch.

- And I feel more like myself... - you put your hand over his, and moved it slowly, so you could press a soft kiss on his palm. - Can we go now...? - you asked, completely disregarding the fact that you were still wearing the clothes you’d slept in.

- We can. - he pressed a soft kiss to your lips; an echo of passion was still audible in his actions. It didn't take you long to get ready, because you didn't have a lot of things with you, and everything - including the things Beau got for you - fit into your bag. You had to change into your own pants, because you didn't want to walk outside in shorts, or much too big sweatpants, but you kept his gray t-shirt, throwing your dad's jacket over it. When you started searching for your shoes, Cyclone reached for them under the bed, where he left them that first night, he brought you here. But before you were able to put them on yourself, he gently pushed you to sit on the bed, put them on your feet, and laced them tightly for you. He also offered you his hand when he finished, to help you get up. Not that you needed help, but you enjoyed touching him in any way you could, and he seemed to feel the same way.

You wanted to hold his hand while you walked through the corridors, but you knew it would be seen as inappropriate, so you just put up the hood of the jacket and put on the aviators to make yourself less recognizable, although you seriously doubted that it would work if you encountered someone you knew. And fortunately, gods spared you that awkwardness because you hated lying.

You were a bit surprised when the car that reacted to his keys was Jeep Wrangler because you were expecting something more... classic. Not that you were complaining, it was just... unexpected, but considering how little you actually knew about him, you had a lot of catching up to do.

You wanted to curl up in the front seat, but you didn't want to put your shoes on the breathable material, so you sat there, feeling a little bit like a kid, but in a good way. You weren't exactly used to following rules, even the simplest ones, which was surprising to most people who knew your dad from the military.

As soon as you started voicing your opinions, you and Nicky were able to defend your point of view in front of your parents, and if your arguments were sound, you were able to proceed with whatever you had planned; they allowed you to make your own mistakes and learn from them just so you'd be prepared for the hardships of the real world. And even though they didn't always agree with your choices, they respected both of you enough not to force you onto a certain path they imagined for you.

And while your brother went into a more... conventional direction with software engineering and app development, you craved too much freedom for any typical career. And when you discovered painting... Well, everything else was history. You had to fight tooth and nail to be taken seriously at first, but after the 4th competition won, your father realized that it wasn't just a fluke, and there was a real possibility for you to achieve a lot, even though he didn’t completely understand it. In the end, he was the one who started doing research about fine art colleges, and internships before you were even done with high school. And when you had your first exhibit, he was the one who cheered you the loudest and invited all his friends from the navy, because he wanted to show off his little girl.

And then you realized something... You were able to think about your dad without going into a complete spiral for the first time in ages, and you couldn't help but smile. It was a small thing, but it meant that you were slowly getting back to normal, and that was something that gave you an unimaginable amount of peace.

- Do you want to swing by your house to get something? - Beau asked, and you had to think for a moment before replying.

- House no... - you finally said; you weren't ready to face whatever was waiting for you there. - But my studio... - you looked at him and he just nodded.

- What's the address? - you gave it to him, and he adjusted the route accordingly.

It didn't take you long to actually get there, but you were a little bit afraid to get out of the car and walk up three flights of stairs. And then you realized that you haven't even asked.

- Would it be ok if I painted at your house...? - your voice got almost completely drowned in traffic noises.

- You can do whatever you want in my house. - he replied with a soft smile, and he meant what he said. - Do you want me to come with you? - he wanted to help, but he didn't want to impose. You shook your head for no; you knew how your studio looked and you weren't ready to share that with him just yet, even though he already knew your life at the moment was messy. - If you'll change your mind, I'm here... - he hesitated for a short moment, but he eventually took your hand into his and brought it to his lips to place a small kiss on the back of it, and it gave you enough courage to face whatever was waiting for you upstairs.

You tried not to look around too much while grabbing your gym bag from the closet, because you were afraid that you might start to spiral again, but fortunately, you managed to avoid that. You packed a few more sets of underwear, a pair of shorts, and leggings. In a moment of boldness, you skipped shirts and t-shirts, because his gave you much more comfort than your own, and you were planning on continuing wearing them. You also packed your hair and face cosmetics, and that was it from necessities, but it wasn't everything you packed...

You also took a ceramic pot you used to brew your tea in, the tea itself, your favorite mug made by one of your friends, and a small cat figurine you didn't even plan on taking out of the bag when you were at his place because just the knowledge of having it with you was comforting.

Next, you took a big canvas bag and started throwing brushes, sponges, rollers, different types of paints and inks, primers, varnish, and all the other things you needed to paint and prepare a canvas. The last thing you took, were thin wooden slats you made frames out of, to stretch the canvas on, and the roll of the canvas itself; it was much easier to travel with it deconstructed, and you didn't know what size you'd need just yet. You quickly left your apartment without looking at everything too much, and you carefully walked down the stairs. When you opened the building doors, you saw Beau standing next to the car, ready to help, if you needed it. You didn't, but just looking at him made you smile.

He took your bags from you, put them in the back, and opened the door of the car for you, and before you knew it, you were crossing a border to the gated community he apparently lived in. All the houses here looked... new. And expensive. And not at all like something you were used to.

He eventually stopped in front of a big suburban house with a double garage door in front. It looked like it had at least four bedrooms, which was - again - surprising.

- Do you... live... alone? - you asked while the doors to the garage were opening, because you just assumed that he did, but you didn't know for sure.

- Yeah... - he sighed. - I know it's a giant house for one person, but I've bought it quite some time ago when I still hoped to start a family... Work kind of got in the way somewhere along the way. - he explained - I honestly admire your father for managing to... - he realized what he said, and his eyes instantly snapped to you in search of signs that something was wrong, but there were none.

- Honestly, it was rough... I remember I learn how to count by counting the nights he was away, and the highest I got was 303 when he was deployed. - you said quietly, a weak smile on your face. - When I was a kid, I always put him on a pedestal, but when I learned more about the world and wars... Well, let's just say that our relationship wasn't always perfect, and it took a lot of therapy to get us to... well... to get us where you saw us. - you explained quietly, leaving Beau a little bit speechless. Neither of you said anything when he was parking, but he helped you with your things.

It was weird, because on the one hand, you felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be, but on the other, you felt a bit like you were intruding, especially when he gave you a quick tour of his house. It was much more modern than you expected, and it lacked... him. As if someone else decorated the house to what they thought a bachelor would like. That was until you got to the main bedroom, and you instantly felt the warmth spilling in your chest.

The bed was massive with dark grey and navy sheets, but it wasn't the main feature of the room, because it was facing a wall filled with books from top to bottom, and the ceiling was high. You couldn't stop yourself from coming closer to check out the titles and run your fingers over the spines. You noticed that they were segregated by genre and in the genre - by the author's last name, which didn't surprise you. What surprised you was the fact that there were quite a few high fantasy books, which caught your attention, and when you turned around to ask, the words got stuck in your throat as soon as you laid your eyes on him.

Technically it wasn't anything special, because he looked exactly the same as he looked over the whole time you knew him, but something changed... He was still in his beige uniform, which shirt you buttoned up in the morning, and to which you attached his ribbons. He was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed on his chest, but his eyes and the way he looked at you... It almost made you blush because you never saw that expression on his face... The corners of his lips raised slightly in a gentle smile, cheeks just a bit higher, making those beautiful smile lines in the corners of his eyes, and the eyes... You instantly relaxed, and it was an involuntary reaction. Was it even possible to develop such strong feelings so quickly, or was it just a weird reaction to your grief? Will you ever be able to tell...?

- You can take anything you want... - he said, and something in his voice told you he didn't mean it just about books, but you left that as it was. Before you'd have that conversation, you will have to come to terms with whatever was happening in your own head. - I'm going to make dinner. - he said, but you stopped him with a gesture and walked closer to him.

You gently unpinned first the wings, then the ribbon rack, and he realized what you were doing; you were home... He wasn't supposed to be in uniform at home... Well, it wasn't forbidden, but he realized that you wanted him to leave the navy behind closed doors for the weekend, and somehow you managed you fit so many things into such a small gesture... That you wanted him to relax, that you wanted to know him better outside of work, that you were taking the exact amount of initiative you were ready for, that he wasn't forcing you into anything, that you were comfortable enough with him to know that even now, when you were slowly unbuttoning his shirt, he wouldn't assume anything. You were showing him that you trusted him without saying one word...

When you got to the lower buttons, you had to gently tug on the material to get it out from the inside of his trousers, and the movement caused his very subtle scent to surround you, which made you smile just a little.

Under the button-up, there was a white t-shirt. You very slowly slipped your hands under it, letting your fingers graze his skin and chest hair, while he was watching your every move with inhuman intensity. When the material rode up high enough, he helped you pull it over his head, but you were the one to take it off completely.

- How do you do this...? - you asked with your hands still on his chest. - How do you make me feel so safe and so calm...? - neither of you knew that, so the question hung unanswered and then he covered your hand with his.

- Does it matter...? - he eventually answered with another question, and after thinking for a moment you shook your head. - Then it doesn't matter, but I'm happy I can do that for you. - he moved your hand to his lips and place a soft kiss on it. - Would you mind if we ate in the garden today? I feel like grilling something... - it wasn't the warmest of days, but it was still the end of the summer, and there were always blankets. Plus - fresh air would do you good.

He went to the walk-in closet and quickly changed, while you were acutely studying everything that was in it. Which if you had to be honest - wasn't much and barely half of it was filled. But you still clocked one item that you instantly gravitated towards - an old gray hoodie with a washed-out naval academy logo. You run your fingers over the material and smiled. He said that you could take anything you wanted... So you did. You pulled it off the hanger and put it on. It was much softer on the inside than on the outside, the sleeves were too long, it reached halfway down your thighs and the hood covered your entire face... It was perfect.

Beau was the one who gently pulled the hood back, so you could see and for a brief moment, his hand rested on your cheek... He was so gentle with you, but you knew it wasn't because he was afraid that you would break; you were used to this type of behavior from different people, but he... He was just gentle. And soft. And warm... Without any specific reason.

You didn't even have to ask for a blanket, because he already had one prepared when you stepped onto the back porch. It wasn't anything special... Well, there was a currently covered pool, and a fire pit, but when it came to plants... there was almost nothing, and you felt a little bit disappointed, but that was your own fault because when he mentioned the garden, you were expecting at least a few trees and maybe a veggie patch... And some flowers... But that was your problem, not his. He was already kind enough to take you in.

Still wrapped in a thick blanket, you chose to sit on the swing with your knees curled up and a sketchbook in your hands, while he was preparing food a few meters away from you, and you honestly could get used to that... You were happy to just observe him, but after a few minutes a compulsion to draw won, so you cracked the spine of a brand-new sketchbook he bought for you and started sketching.

His face was already committed to your memory forever, so it wasn't hard for you to do a quick outline of the proportions, and after that you cleaned it a bit, looking at Beau from time to time, even though you didn't need to... But you wanted to... You slowly added more details, starting with hair, but they weren't neatly combed like they were now. You used the image from your head, from when he was in bed with you after taking a shower at night; they had much more volume and suited him more in your opinion. Next came the nose, which took you only a minute, but his lips... You spent so much time looking at them and thinking about them, that even the tiniest details were carved in your memory, and you took your time pouring them out on paper because you wanted to do them justice. And lastly - his eyes and everything around them... You had to close yours for a moment to recall and analyze the expression he looked at you with only half an hour ago...

Just as you were finishing, the smell of something cooking hit your nostrils, and you peeked at what he was doing. On a special plate on the grill, there were potatoes with some herbs, bell peppers, onions... And even though you couldn't see it, you could smell it, so you knew somewhere in there, there was also garlic and rosemary. As if he could feel your gaze on him, he turned around catching you in the act and looking at you with the exact same expression that was looking at you from your sketchbook.

You turned the page in his direction, but from his perspective, the light pencil was barely visible, so he came closer, and you passed the notebook to him, so he could take a closer look.

- That's not... - he started, but quickly stopped and thought about what he really meant. - I don't think I've ever seen myself looking like that... - it took him a moment to react.

- That's what I see when you look at me... - you simply shrugged and he shifted his gaze back to you, as if unsure what to say. There were a few minutes of silence before he spoke again, this time much quieter.

- Am I that obvious...? - his voice was almost a whisper as if he was afraid that anything louder would shatter the moment.

- It's... complicated. - you sighed. - And I promise we will talk about it, but I am not ready for that conversation yet, it's too soon. But I... - you hesitated. - I don't want to be anywhere but with you. For now, it will have to be enough, I'm sorry that I can't give you more... - the last part was barely audible.

- You have nothing to apologize for because you don't have to give me anything... - he passed the still-opened sketchbook back to you and you couldn't help but look at your drawing again. - And when you're ready - we will talk. - he didn't even have to say that he was more than ok with waiting, because you were definitely worth any wait. - But first - food. - you technically weren't even hungry, but you knew you should eat... And with Beau cooking, it would be extremely hard to say no without poking a hole in your bag of issues. Plus - logically you knew your body needed it, so you didn't protest when he brought you a dark blue plate with chicken and veggies cut to bite-size pieces even before cooking.

He sat on the swing next to you and very gently started moving it using just one of his legs.

- What's your favorite ice cream flavor? - you asked right after you swallowed the first piece of roasted potato and he looked at you with surprise, but as soon as he realized what you were doing, he shifted a bit, so now his body was facing you, and you did the same.

- Hazelnut... But it's followed closely by salted caramel. You? - he replied and now it was his turn to take a bite.

- Lemon sherbet with basil... - you usually had to make it on your own, because there weren't many companies that carried that specific flavor.

- That's a bit unusual... - he couldn't help but smile, but he wasn't even surprised, because nothing about you was usual. - What kind of music do you like? - this time he asked the question.

- Just... Music... It really depends on my mood. I have hundreds of playlists I've made over the years, so it would be hard for me to choose just one of them. - you took a small break to eat a few pieces of veggies. - Although I focus more on the song itself than on the creator. And sure, there are a few that I'd enjoy no matter what, like House of the Rising Sun or Work Song, but overall - my music taste is all over the place. - your throat still hurt a bit from the screaming earlier today, but not enough to stop you from talking.

- If you let me, I'd love to hear a few of your playlists. Do you have them on Apple Music? - he asked, and you chuckled.

- Spotify. We're an android house because of my lovely brother. - Beau was really easy to talk to and you found yourself wanting to do it more often, and since you were already in his house, it should be easy to do.

- Nicholas? - he made sure he remembered the name correctly, and you realized that you weren't even sure if the two of them ever met.

- Nick. Or Nicky... - you corrected, because your brother hated the full version of his name with a passion, and Beau only nodded once, acknowledging the change. - Do you have any siblings? - you couldn't help but ask and he sighed heavily.

- Yeaaahhhh... Four sisters. One older, and three younger. - you weren't sure what you were expecting, but it wasn't this, and you almost choked.

- That's... - you didn't even know what to say.

- A lot? - he offered, and you nodded. - My father wanted another son after me and well... It didn't go according to plan. - he chuckled.

- Would you mind telling me a bit more about your family? - and he did. He started with his older sister and their rocky relationship due to their parents giving him more attention, and then he moved down, telling you about how he always felt responsible for the younger ones, how he played with them and braided their hair, and how he felt guilty leaving them behind when he joined the navy.

And you listened to his stories from childhood until your plate was empty, and when it was, you put it on the floor next to the swing, brought your knees to your chest, and just... listened. It was your turn to get to know him, since he had a substantial head start in that department, and you were happy to learn every little detail he was willing to share.

The sun was already hidden behind the horizon, and you couldn't help but look around the... so-called garden, and he immediately saw that someone was bugging you.

- What's wrong? - he asked quietly, reaching to touch you, and as soon as his fingers were on your calf, you moved closer to him and awkwardly turned around, draping the blanket over both of you. He wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer, happy to share some warmth with you.

- Nothing's wrong... - you said, and it wasn't a lie. - There are just a few things I miss, and when you said you had a garden... I just miss nature. - you didn't want to add why exactly you missed it, but to Beau - it was obvious. - It's so quiet here... We're outside, but there are no frogs, no bugs buzzing around, no crickets in the background, no nothing... Well, besides a few moths and mosquitos. - you could feel him chuckle behind you. - And please don't get it the wrong way, I'm extremely happy to be here with you, and it's just something I miss.

- It's ok... I understand what you mean. - he placed a soft kiss on the top of your head. - It's... sterile, a blank canvas. - and that was exactly what you meant, so you couldn't help but look back at him. - I'm not spending much time here... Sure, it's my house, but it was decorated by someone else because I didn't have time to do it myself. I paid someone to design the backyard in such a way, that it wouldn't require much maintenance, because I knew I wouldn't have time to take care of it. I always imagined that one day it will change, but... - he didn't have to finish, because you knew what he was about to say... If not for your mother, your house would have white walls and barely any decorations.

- The bedroom... - you whispered, and it suddenly made sense. - You decorated it yourself, didn't you...? - you asked, but you already knew the answer even before he nodded. That’s why you felt so safe and comfortable there; the one room he actually took time to work on.

You yawned, the exhaustion from today finally catching up with you; you knew it would be a while before you'll be at full strength again, but you felt safe enough not to rush that process.

- Do you want to go to sleep...? - he asked quietly.

- Mhmmm... But shower first... - you mumbled in response, but you didn't move to get up just yet, which made him smile. He pressed his cheek against your head, a plan for tomorrow slowly taking shape in his head. It would take him a moment to prepare everything, but it will be worth it.

- Go then... I'll clean around here and join you when I'll finish. - and with a quiet groan you finally started moving. Still wrapped in the soft blanket that now smelled like smoke, you went upstairs to the bedroom, where all your things were.

His shower was abysmally giant, almost a completely separate room with a rain shower and a bench to sit on. He already prepared a set of soft, dark blue towels for you, which you put to good use. You also neatly placed your things on the side of the counter, so they would be within reach, but not in the way. Technically there were two sinks, one completely empty, but... it just didn't feel right.

You peeked out of the bathroom to see if he was already in the bedroom, but it was empty, so you felt more comfortable sneaking into his walk-in wardrobe in just a towel tightly wrapped around your body. You gravitated towards the back of the room, where the older, more worn things were, and you unceremoniously took a black t-shirt with the logo of a band you didn't recognize and put it on. It was so soft against your skin, that you closed your eyes, relishing that sensation.

Since he wasn't in the room just yet, you picked one of the titles from the high fantasy section and started reading it in bed, but the warmth from the shower, and the fact that everywhere you looked, you could feel him, made you doze off before you realized what was happening.

It took Beau over an hour to prepare everything for tomorrow; he even dug through the decoration boxes in the garage to find the fairy lights he usually used to decorate his nieces’ room whenever they visited. The food for tomorrow was already prepared in the fridge, and everything else he would need was already packed.

When he came into the bedroom, you were already asleep, curled around one of his books. He gently took it out of your hands, put it on the nightstand, and turned the lamp off, so the light wouldn't interfere with your sleep.

He took a very quick shower, taking notice of the small trail of things you left in the bathroom with a smile; you were in his house for just a few hours, and he already loved everything about it. It was like you were meant to be there like you fit perfectly into empty spaces in his life.

Curiosity won, and he couldn't help but smell and read the labels of the creams and other things you were using, so he'd be better prepared next time you needed anything like that.

When he finally lay in bed and turned the lights off, he couldn't help the quiet groan. It's not like the beds on base were unreasonably uncomfortable, but he missed his own, even if that meant you were a bit further away. He didn't want to wake you up or assume anything, but as soon as he let out that groan, you started to shift in your sleep. For a short moment, he was afraid he woke you up, but he didn't; you were still sound asleep. But that didn't stop you from shuffling under the giant duvet in search of something, and as soon as your hand blindly found his torso, you let out a deeper breath and pulled yourself even closer to his body, which resulted in a giant smile on his face... even subconsciously you wanted to be near him...

So, he wrapped his arms around you and finally closed his eyes. He wasn't ready to fall asleep just yet; it was too early for that for him, but he just wanted to enjoy that moment of vulnerability with you. 

A/N 2: Please don’t feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. A comment would be appreciated though :) Love, G.

[hananosami]

Our Last Spring | Gojo x Reader

Chapter II: Chosen

A sixteen year old girl walked through the courtyard of Kyoto Metropolitan Technical High School, watching as her fellow classmates trained their hand-to-hand combat on the grass by the track and field. Two years have now passed since your parents were murdered by an unknown assailant, and to your dismay, it seems like the police will never be able to solve the case. It truly was just the wrong person, at the wrong place, at the wrong time. 

Have you moved on from it? It's hard to say. The months following after their death, there were days where you were so grief-stricken that you could hardly get out of the bed. You'd feel so sick everytime you remembered them- to the point you'd start puking, even if you haven't eaten anything for the day. But you still got up, each and every day, even if it was difficult. You were even able to save your grades, despite being absent during the last two weeks of school- you still ended up graduating at the top of your class. Not that it mattered, your parents weren't there to witness it.. But your best friend's parents were still there for you, and even celebrated the accomplishment by taking the both of you out to dinner.

There were days that you swore you could see the ghost of your parents, urging you to keep going- to keep your head up high, that you could do it; So you persevered. You gave the principal of Kyoto Metropolitan Technical High School a call, accepting their offer, and everything moved so quickly that you almost didn't get to say goodbye to your childhood best friend. In a span of three days, they moved all your belongings to a dormitory at the school. 

In a blink of an eye, you became a second year at the school and two years had passed. It was hard at first to understand that this was not an ordinary school, which is exactly why not everyone that applies- gets accepted. The top three clan's children will always have an automatic admission, but for people like you, those that didn't even know that they had curse energy- were either seeked out by those that worked in the school, or they themselves applied on their own accord, after figuring out that they were different from those around them. 

It took awhile for you to understand that not everything you saw, such as curses could be seen by everyone, which was probably why your childhood friend always had this weird look whenever you spoke to one of the nicer curses that lived around your neighborhood; it was because she was just a normal human being, she couldn't see what you could see. The professors at the school taught you how to hone cursed energy, control it well enough that you could catch up with the other students that already had formal training on what cursed energy is, or what their cursed technique was. 

To be quite frank, getting to where you were now was no easy feat. Figuring out what your cursed technique was undoubtedly one of the hardest tasks that the professors had to deal with, you didn't come from a family of sorcerers after all. How they found out was through accident, and it was because one of the zen'in children had decided to attack you as a prank. You could remember it as clear as day, as if it happened yesterday, it was your third month there at the school, and you were still figuring out how to even use your cursed energy. 

"Naoya-kun, what are you doing here?" 

Your professor would ask, as your attention turned towards the sliding door that was opened by the Zen'in boy. "Oh nothing, I was just bored sensei.." He'd grin towards you, the way his eyes squinted and hinted that he was there with malicious intent. You'd remember the way your blood would run cold every time you were near him, if there was a devil on earth, you were sure that it was Naoya Zen'in. You'd watch as he'd walk around the dojo, his fingertips grazing the bokkens that were on the racks. Then he'd stop, staring at one of the spears, before picking it up and he started playing with it- twirling it around. 

"Hey new girl." You'd watch the way he'd smirk at you, "Watch out!" He'd laugh, throwing the spear right at your face. You'd hear your professor scream in the background, as you closed your eyes preparing for impact. If you were being honest, you were waiting for it to hit you, maybe take you out of this misery they call a life- but it didn't. Maybe your professor caught in time before it hit you right in the face, so you opened your eyes. What you saw next left you dumbfounded, the spear was suspended in air, as if it was frozen in time. There was a good distance between you, the spear, and Naoya Zen'in. Then you'd watch the spear as it drops to the ground, and makes a clattering sound. You stared at the spear, then at the Zen'in boy, then to your teacher in confusion; And that was how a cruel prank helped you figured out your cursed technique.

Time.

To put it simply, you can suspend inanimate and animate objects alike for a couple of seconds with your cursed energy. Was it useful? In a way, but you had very little control with it during your first couple of months training. To be quite frank, the only time it truly worked would be when your own body sensed that you were in imminent danger. So you learned how to be well-versed in hand-to-hand combat and weapon training, even learning how to imbue your cursed energy unto weapons to strengthen it towards battles against curses. You were still sent to missions, even if you didn't have full control yet. But it was all missions under the supervision of other higher level sorcerers of course, to give the higher-ups an idea on what grade you would be put under. By the end of your first year in high school, you became a grade 2 sorcerer.

A couple more months have passed, and you've advanced even further and learned how to control and use your cursed technique more efficiently. According to Gakuganji, your progress was slow and steady at first, but now, he said he wouldn't be surprised if you could create a domain expansion of your own. But you brushed him off, you knew how unlikely that would be. You were more than happy with your simple and innate domain, the one you were born with. It was already a long and tedious struggle learning about how to control your cursed energy, your cursed technique, and how to defeat curses. 

Before you knew it, it was already spring again. 

You were sitting in the classroom, listening to your professor talk about the history of sorcerers- when Gakuganji slid open the classroom door and entered the classroom. As soon as he stepped one foot into the classroom, all of you stood up in unison. You watched as the old man walked in front of the podium, and your professor respectfully bowed at him. "Hello students." You all bowed down in unison to show respect to him, before standing up straight. "You may all sit, I have an important announcement to make." You sat back down, putting your hand back under your chin. 

"As you all know, the Kyoto-Sister Goodwill Event is happening again this year. Last year, the Tokyo school won, therefore we would have to travel back up there again for this year's event.." He'd sigh, his eyebrows furrowing in annoyance, "I would have the just the third year high school student's join this year's event, but it seems that the Tokyo School will only be utilizing two of their students once again this year.." Now it was your turn to furrow your eyebrows, 'just two?' you'd think to yourself in confusion. "They're both special grade sorcerers, therefore, to even out the odds, Zen'in Naoya, you will be joining us for this year's event." You'd turn your attention to the blonde and green haired man, who was smirking at the principal, as if he was expecting the invite to join this years event- before you turned your attention back to the principal. "Amanogawa (Y/N), you will be joining us as well." Your eyes widened in surprise, "Sensei, there must be a mis-" He shook his head at you, "There is no mistake, you two will be joining us, along with two other third year sorcerers. We will all leave by the end of this week. That is all, kindly resume your lesson." He'd turn his attention back to the professor and give him a curt nod, before heading back out to the hallway. 

Once class had ended, you rushed to the principal's office. 

You knocked at the door of the principal's office, waiting for permission to go inside. "You may come in.." You'd hear Gakuganji speak from inside the office. "(Y/N)?" You'd close the door behind you quietly, "There must be a mistake Kouchou-sensei, I'm not ready to join the goodwill event- especially against two special grade sorcerers at that.. There's no way, Gakuganji-sensei. We'd definitely lose if you don't find someone else to take my spot." You'd frown at the old man, crossing your arms in front of your chest. If there was something you weren't afraid of, it would be Gakuganji. In a way, you've been blunt with him since your first day here at the school, and he's been upfront with you as well. Would you call it a father-daughter relationship? No, but your relationship resembled close enough to one. 

"It's not my choice. The higher-ups.. Wishes to see you in combat against the two special grade sorcerers. They're curious to see if you've improved some more..." You'd furrow your eyebrows in confusion, "The higher-ups..?" You'd mumble under your breath in disbelief, why were they on your ass again. You were well aware as to how this society works, you follow the orders of the higher-ups, because their word reigns supreme. Even the Kyoto Principal has no power against their word, even if he has to follow their orders. 

"But-..!" You'd then be cut off by the abrupt knock you'd hear behind you, "You may come in." You'd watch as you see one of Gakuganji's assistants peeks their head in thru the door, "Is this a bad time.. Principal Gakuganji..?" He shakes his head, waving his hand to usher the assistant in. "No, we were just finishing up. (Y/N), we leave by the end of this week, understood?" You'd sigh, shaking your head, before bowing. 

"Understood."

Then you left the room, and that was the end of that discussion. "Have you found what I have asked you to look for?" The principal asks, as he continues to read about the reports that have been passed unto him to review about the recent surge of curses around the Tokyo area. The assistant rubs the nape of his neck, "I have.. But it doesn't make Gakuganji-san.." He'd turn his attention back to the nervous assistant, and away from the paperwork that's seated right in front of him "What doesn't make sense? Give it here." He'd extend his hand out to receive the paperwork from the younger man. 

"She's related to a clan that was wiped out hundreds of years ago.." Gakuganji raises an eyebrow, as he flips through the DNA report. "Hoshizora.. Clan..?" He stares in disbelief, "Are you sure this is the right report?" The assistant fiddles with his fingers, "Y.. Yes Kouchou-sensei.. I had the medical team repeat the exam to make sure.. They said that it shouldn't be possible, there were no known survivors from that clan, there's no physical records of them either after the great clan war.. They should've been all wiped out...." Gakuganji takes a deep breath in, 

"You're telling me.. This girl is related to the clan that used to serve the Gojo clan..?"

━━━━━━━━

Sooooo, I'm literally feeding ya'll with these updates.. 

But I ain't kidding when I say, I was hella inspired after I did a deep cleaning of my room and was jamming to my playlist. My playlist hit me hard enough that this random idea just popped into my head, and now I've been writing quite literally non-stop for this fic.

Anywhoooo, I hope ya'll like it so far!

Peace!

[3rdsday]

This is a request for a c! Tommy rant

PLEASE YOUR PERSPECTIVE IS SO INTRIGUING I NEED MORE

thank you:))

Okay I've sat on this for a few days because I didn't feel like I was coherent enough to answer it but I think I'm ready now. This is probably still not super coherent but here we go:

The two rules Tommy was given when he joined the server were “no griefing” and “no stealing”.

Obviously these rules stopped being enforced pretty quickly, but it’s worth noting that Tommy immediately and blatantly disregarded and broke these rules. And I think that Tommy as a character gets punished for this throughout the rest of the story, in a sort of karmic retribution gone overboard way.

Tommy took things from others and destroyed their things, so he is not allowed to keep anything he cares about ever again.

Obviously the discs are the biggest example of this, with how many times they changed hands and were fought over and were used to taunt Tommy. But it goes so much further than that.

L’manberg gets destroyed. He gets exiled by Schlatt. Henry gets killed. L’manberg gets destroyed again. Wilbur’s dead. He gets exiled by Tubbo.

Every day in exile, Dream destroys everything Tommy has. It’s not subtle. There he is, isolated from everyone, no friends, no items, nothing. And he breaks in exile, for many reasons, but the fact that everything, everything has been taken from him, and continues to be taken from him, is a big part of that.

He leaves exile and teams up with Techno, but ultimately decides that L’manberg (Tubbo) is more important to him.

The second Tommy chooses L’manberg, he’s not allowed to have it anymore.

And that’s the thing, right? Everything Tommy loses, it’s not about what those things mean to other people, it’s about the fact that Tommy cared about them. Sure, Techno had his motivations for destroying L’manberg, but Dream? The one pulling the strings? L’manberg needed to be gone because it was what Tommy cared about.

Which was kinda Dream’s whole deal right? If he controls what people care about, he controls the server. If he has Tommy’s discs, he should be able to control Tommy… right?

Except, for as much as the discs matter to Tommy, they are far from the only thing he cares about. He gives them up willingly for L’manberg’s independence. He gives them up a second time when he realizes he’s gone too far, putting them above Tubbo and fighting his best friend. Dream can’t use the discs to control Tommy because Tommy always has other things to care about, other things that would matter to him even if the discs were gone.

So what does Dream have to do?

Take everything else away.

What started with exile comes to a head during the final disc confrontation, with Dream once again making Tommy give up all his possessions the way he’d been conditioned to do. L’manberg is already gone, Dream dealt with that before, so all that’s left is Tubbo.

But things don’t go to Dream’s plan, Tommy convinced the rest of the server to come to his aid, and Dream was defeated.

(Don’t even TALK to me about the disc confrontation being staged by Dream, I don’t want to HEAR IT. It’s not canon to me and if you think I’m wrong. No I’m not <3)

Here’s the thing, though. When Dream was about to be killed a third time, Tommy is stopped by the chance that Dream could revive Wilbur.

Tommy has lost so much, over and over, and the chance to get his brother back is too much for him to go through with killing Dream.

Maybe Dream lost the confrontation, but he still found a way to use Tommy’s attachments against him.

So Dream is put in prison, Tommy has his discs back and, more importantly, Tubbo back. Maybe it’s not everything he once had, but it’s a lot more than he once did.

And then he goes to visit Dream. And Dream kills him.

Limbo is different for every character, but it’s generally supposed to be an experience that’s torturous. And all it takes for Limbo to be the worst thing Tommy has ever experienced is… nothing.

His Limbo is empty.

For all that he lost during exile, during the lowest point of his life… he’s left with even less than death.

All that’s there is the voice of a brother he couldn’t give up attachment to, who is no longer the brother he knew and loved. Who taunts and torments him during his time in that empty void. Wilbur might be there, but Tommy doesn’t even have his brother in Limbo. Not really.

And it kills me because Tommy is, or rather was, such an optimistic character. Not so much in the sense that he had a constant positive outlook, because clearly that wasn’t the case much of the time. But he could have his home destroyed and his friends turned against him and his possessions taken and his pets killed over and over and over and over again, and still find a way to keep going. Still find things to care about.

It generally took very little to make Tommy happy. He loved dirt huts and cobblestone towers and spiders and things that meant nothing to anyone else, that anyone else would treat with neutrality if not negativity.

But in Limbo there was nothing. Absolutely nothing.

Everything he had, gone.

Even his life was taken from him.

And in the aftermath, after his revival, he was never the same. He didn’t belong among the living, another thing that was taken from him. Wilbur was revived, but Wilbur was so different from the brother Tommy knew. Even then, Wilbur left him in the end.

I hate the finale for a lot of reasons, so I’m not going to go into it much. But the story ends with Tommy dead, again. Is he in Limbo again? Who knows. But Tommy was never allowed to keep anything, and the ending solidified this as true.

I started this by saying that Tommy was punished for breaking the rules of the server. And I think it’s interesting to read the story that way, where Tommy’s relatively small crimes end up resulting in him losing everything again and again and never breaking free of it. This is a story where gods and higher beings exist and are willing to interfere with the lives of the characters, so I don’t think it’s too far fetched to see this as a warped degree of karma. But I also think that what Tommy is punished for, perhaps more than the rule breaking, is the fact that he cares so much. He found joy and love in everything, so he was left with nothing. Because the Dream SMP is a cruel world controlled by a cruel man who became obsessed with Tommy. And Tommy paid the price, but he also never stopped caring for the things that mattered to him. He could be broken but not defeated, not as long as there was more for him to love.

Unfortunately, the story demanded his defeat, one way or another.

And that’s why his Limbo is empty.

[cesqdarque]

The Pursuit of Equilibrium

Chapter One: Mountain Peaks

About a year ago, I started to give my MC, Cassandra Darque, a backstory. What started out more as a thought soon developed further in my mind. It literally won't let me go. So, because I can't just put everything into edits, I decided to write it down. And in a rush of courage, I thought, I might as well share it. Let's start with the first chapter then. A big thank you to the lovely @thetotomoo, who beta read my first attempts in writing a story 🖤

Summary: Cassandra Darque, the granddaughter of the matriarch of the Montague clan, has to leave her homeland to seek refuge at Hogwarts because of her past crimes. A new reality she first has to process. Words: 2k Tags: angst | dealing with grief | reference to self-harm | short description of blood And for the vibes: Within Temptation - Overcome (Instrumental)

The pendulum of the antique wood-paneled Burgundy clock swung back and forth. A soft ticking filled the room. And yet it seemed to her as if time stood still. Clotted blood, like cold sweat, adorned the pale, lifeless body at her feet. Empty, impassive eyes, extinguished was the fire that once burned so warmly in them.

An uneasy feeling arose inside her, climbed the path from her abdomen over her lungs, took her breath away, and lay on her chest like an oppressive shadow. She heard her pulse start racing, her heart beating incessantly, each anxious beat chasing the next. Her hands began to tremble, and she surrendered to the weakness that forced her to her knees. Tears clouded her vision and gradually fell from the tip of her eyelashes to the floor until her face felt hot and wet.

A pitiful cry escaped her mouth, but it only fell on deaf, dead ears. No one would rush to her aid since the disaster had already been done. No magic in the world could ever bring back the dead, she knew that. Realization loomed like a dark cloud over her existence. A darkness that she would never be able to leave behind from that moment on.

 "Miss Darque. Miss Darque... please." A nervous, quickening voice penetrated her consciousness. "Please, wake up..."

Bony fingers closed around her forearm and Cassandra startled out of the obscurity. She supported herself with both hands on the soft surface of her mattress. She gasped; it seemed so real to her. But it always felt so real. She regularly struggled with nightmares and this night had been no exception.

"Miss Darque?" It squeaked again to her left, this time with caution in its speech.

Cassandra ran her palms through her sweat-soaked hair before turning to the familiar voice. Two pointed ears, large eyes, and the worried face of Alfie the house elf peeked over the edge of her bed

"Everything is fine, Alfie," she answered shortly and tried to calm her pulse with regular breaths. "Nightmare," she admitted curtly and pulled the silk duvet over her lap. She must have been tossing and screaming in her dream, otherwise the house-elf would not have appeared uninvited in her bedroom.

"Miss, shall we wake up your grandmother?" the elf asked worried and his blue googly eyes looked at her attentively.

"That won't be necessary, Alfie." She answered him promptly and waved him away.

Her grandmother must not think that her granddaughter is afraid of the shadows in her dreams. She was quite embarrassed that she was still dreaming of that night that had happened so many years ago. The events that happened in the past had already occurred and were irreversible. There was no point in indulging in these memories, neither the good nor the bad ones. It enraged her that her subconscious probably perceived it differently, that she could not forget the horrendous images.

But this was her personal struggle. The constant quarrel between her common sense and her nonsensical subconscious.

No reason to bother her grandmother. At least no more than that she was already informed anyway. The walls of the estate were thin, and the staff tended to gossip. She rolled her eyes in disgust and let out a contemptuous sigh. It didn't help, she wouldn't find any rest, let alone sleep, that night.

Lost in thought, her delicate fingers glided over the smooth material of her blanket. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that Alfie, devoted as ever, was still standing quietly beside her bed. She sighed again.

"Alfie, I'm fine. I request you to return to your quarters." she turned her upper body and looked at the little elf with a serious expression before continuing, "And please, keep it to yourself. We don't want my grandmother to have to worry about me. No more than she already does."

Grandmother had enough on her plate, and Cassandra was aware of that. And admittedly, it was to a large extent her fault. That nightmarish evening so many moons ago had changed everything. For her, for her grandmother, for her entire family. In summary, for those who were still left to her.

With his skinny fingers, Alfie nervously fiddled with the purple varnish that was wrapped around his body like a toga. He was visibly concerned. However, it was not up to him to resist an order, or, as in this case, a direct demand from a family member of his esteemed mistress. He swallowed and finally nodded to her.

"As you wish, Miss." After a short bow, he turned around, strolled to the exit, and left the room to look for his own sleeping quarters.

A soft click could be heard as the door was gently pulled into its trap. Cassandra was alone again. She took a deep breath, but the uncomfortable, constricting feeling in her chest threatened to plague her again. So, she threw the supple bedding aside, let her feet slide to the floor, and got up.

Her gaze wandered through the moonlit room. Larch wood paneling, antique pieces of furniture draped with fine crocheted knitted doilies, and a collection of old photographs. As is well known, taste was debatable, she thought to herself as she walked towards the large floor-to-ceiling windows of the room. Of course, she was grateful that her grandmother had taken her in after the loss of her parents, no question. However, she never felt completely at home.

An estate so spacious, with countless rooms and endless corridors, curious servants, and overzealous house elves. It didn't correspond to the homely little house in secluded family realms, surrounded by breathtaking peaks and dense coniferous forest, where she had spent her early childhood.

Her hand clasped the cold brass of the window handle and with a tug, she twisted the bolt out of its holder and opened the window wide. The cool night air blew towards her. The first frost, which announced the impending autumn, had already settled over the fields of the valley and made them shimmer under the clear sky of the dawning day.

She took a deep breath and let her thoughts wander freely like an eagle over the high mountain range of the Val d'Aosta. Free from the shackles of her fears, and her worries. Free from the bars of her mental cage, in which she found herself locked in time and time again.

What would she give for just one night to cut all the earthly ties and move like a ghost over the hills, the peaks, and clouds of this world. Free, truly free.

Her gaze drifted over the hills and plains of the valley and lingered for a moment on the ruins of the Castello di Cly. A medieval castle that had once stretched its battlements skywards so gloriously had now deteriorated into a crumbling pile of stones due to the ravages of time. Time was invincible. Fate was inevitable.

Absent-mindedly, she ran the fingertips of her right hand over the inside of her left wrist. She gently traced the lines of healed flesh. Scars, she thought, were like ruins, memories of past toils. Of past versions of herself. She sighed softly and clasped her hands in her lap.

The dawning day would bring changes again. In a few hours, one of her grandmother's lackeys would pick her up from her current home and she would have to be hustled into a carriage to start her journey up North. All her arguments failed to change her grandmother's mind, the risk of uninvited visitors on her behalf was too eminent. It was her sole fault. If she hadn't let herself be seduced by the drunken promise of sweet revenge, she wouldn't have gotten into these precarious circumstances that forced her grandmother to send her away.

Until Cassandra was assured the situation was calmly resolved, her only alternative was to leave the country to escape the authorities. She sighed, grateful for her grandmother’s quick thinking and cunning allowing her to escape the noose even if she had to make some questionable diplomatic deals.

A cold shiver ran down her spine and made her shudder. She turned away from the open window and walked towards the large double-winged wardrobe. Despite her imminent departure, she had not yet been able to bring herself to pack her few belongings and clothes. So, she opened the spacious cupboard, examining the many fabrics neatly hung in their place. Her hand passed over the fine fabric of her numerous lace-embellished dresses. She strongly doubted that this fine yarn matched the usual dress code at her destination but nevertheless, she wanted to take a special piece with her.

She grabbed the hanger, lifted it from the rack, and held a black dress made of heavy velvet fabric with sleeves adorned with fine lace fabric in front of her. It was a dress that her mother used to wear when she still lived in these chambers and walked carelessly through the gardens of the estate. A relic from past cheerful days. She folded it carefully and placed it on her bedstead. More clothes followed and soon the contents of the closet were almost emptied, the mountain of textile on her mattress had grown considerably and a suitcase had been dug out of the depths of the wardrobe.

A gentle breeze carried the first rays of sunshine of the day through the open window and there was a hint of departure in the air. Rummaging through her cupboard had made her forget the time and only a short knock tore her out of her efficiency.

She looked over her shoulder, "Come in."

The door was pushed open a little and a pair of pointed ears appeared as Alfie peeked through the gap. "Miss Darque, are you up yet?" the house-elf asked politely as he entered the room. His googly eyes caught the work piled up on her mattress and widened. "But... Miss Darque, what are you doing?" he asked in surprise.

"Well, guess what, I'm packing," she replied.

"Alfie would have done that for you, Miss. Mrs. Montague just tasked him to do it..."

"Oh, hogwash. I can do that myself," Cassandra responded and began to pack the accumulation of clothes into her suitcase.

The house-elf stepped further into the room and approached the suitcase to take it. But Cassandra grabbed the handle, pulled the suitcase to herself, and remained kneeling on the floor in front of her piece of luggage.

"Alfie," she reprimanded the elf, "at least let me do something."

"Excuse me, Miss, but Alfie has clear instructions from your grandmother," he answered in an apologetic voice before he closed the lid of the suitcase.

Cassandra let out a loud frustrated snort. "All right," she rolled her eyes, "but just let me add something...".

She stood up and targeted the chest of drawers draped with white crochet doilies. She single-mindedly grabbed the gold-framed photograph of a young woman, who greeted her with a warm mien and a gentle smile. The black velvet dress flattered her elegant silhouette immensely. Cassandra smiled sadly at her mother's image before she plucked up the courage to return to her luggage with the photo in her hands and placed it on top of the pile of clothes in the suitcase.

"Voilà," she said, "that's all."

The only thing she wanted to keep with her at this abode was in the leather piece of luggage that the eager elf now held in his hands. She was willing to leave everything else behind, not just because she had to, but because she wanted to. A last glance over the silken blankets of her bed, over to the open window, over the high peaks of the valley. Into the vastness of the sky, which was washed into dawn by the rising sun, for one day she hoped to view it all again as a free witch.

[readyplayerhobi]

Because, I Love You | 08

Jungkook x Older!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst,

; Word Count: 3.4k

; Warnings: Mentions of blood, discussions of miscarriage, slight breakdown, mental health discussion, grief

; Synopsis: According to society, Jeon Jungkook should not be with you. He should be with a younger, hotter and thinner girl instead of wasting his time on you. It’s a good thing Jungkook doesn’t care what society thinks then.

; A/N: New banner for this series as well! And this chapter deals with the aftermath of the previous chapter, which will see them discuss how they are feeling/how they coped with the miscarriage. If you’ve ever had a miscarriage, then please only read if you are comfortable with it! And for any guys who read this and have experienced this, I hope you found the support you needed as well, and remember for everyone that there is no ‘right’ way to grieve. If you enjoyed this, please let me know by sending an ask or leaving a comment, and reblog it (with warnings) for others to read!

; Masterlist

-

You’re not sure if there’s a right or a wrong way to grieve a miscarriage, especially when the pregnancy hadn’t even been planned. Were you mourning enough? Or was it too much? When was an acceptable time to stop crying? Or had you already passed that point?

In reality, you knew that there was no right or wrong answer. You’d struggled with this at first, just trying to comprehend that you weren’t pregnant anymore. That something had caused your body to decide this wasn’t the time to have a baby. The problem with something as confusing and intimate as a miscarriage was that your emotions and feelings were all over the place.

At first, you’d sobbed into Jungkook’s arms when the gynaecologist had confirmed that you were miscarrying. The first thing she’d told you upon returning, after letting you both have a moment, was that it was highly unlikely that anything you’d done had caused the miscarriage. That miscarriages were very common for women, with ten to twenty per cent of pregnancies resulting in miscarriages, which was thought to be a low number. 

You’d stopped bleeding a week ago, and another checkup had confirmed that you’d passed the pregnancy and they didn’t need to intervene. The past week had been tough, as it felt like your body was heaving a sigh of relief now that the intensive physical effects were over, which meant that you were so damn tired. You’d taken a week of sick leave, and had now taken an extra week of vacation to just cope with everything and you’d spent most of it either asleep or lying in bed.

Part of you felt lazy, but an overriding part of you didn’t care. Jungkook had been struggling to get you to eat, and you knew that you were probably sinking into depression. The hardest thing, though, was knowing this and doing nothing about it. It was like watching yourself from outside your own body, and feeling frustrated but not being able to do anything.

Despite what your gynaecologist had said, you couldn’t help but blame yourself in some way. Ask if there was something better you could have done. Should you have eaten better? Exercised more? Is it because you were overweight? Maybe you’d been too stressed at work. That was perhaps the hardest part of it all - trying to find an answer that you knew didn’t exist. No matter what you think or the obsessive way your mind runs in circles…you know that you didn’t do anything to cause this.

Things like this happen, in humans and other animals. Nothing you could have done could have stopped it. But it’s so hard to acknowledge this, especially whilst it’s all still so fresh.

The prospect of having to go back to work next week and face people who had no idea was hard, and you weren’t entirely sure how you would do it. You didn’t want them to know, but at the same time you did, if just to make conversations easier. What if there were other women in the office who’d been through what you had? Maybe they’d have some advice. But at the same time, you were afraid they’d judge you. 

Why they’d do that, you don’t know, but you’ve long ago learnt that minds don’t rationalise things well sometimes. Part of you envied Jungkook, in that he hadn’t had to go through any of the physical trauma that you had and could continue with his life without ever having to remember that pain or hurt.

And then you’d feel instantly ashamed of thinking that because you wouldn’t wish what you’d gone through on anyone. Not to mention that you know Jungkook is grieving and suffering in his way. You can’t imagine how hard it must have been for him, to have to watch all of this from the outside and know he can’t do anything to help. And on top of that, it was his baby too.

Guilt wells within you, and you realise that you probably haven’t treated him as well as you should have for the last two weeks. Sure, you had extenuating circumstances, but it doesn’t settle well with you. 

Glancing over at the clock, you note that he’s been longer than he should have to just get a glass of water. It was just after nine o’clock at night, and you’d managed to spend the day out of bed. So you hadn’t left the house, but you’d at least busied your body and your mind with cleaning the house from top to bottom. You were tired now, so damn tired, and Jungkook had gone downstairs to the kitchen to get you both some water when you’d mentioned how thirsty you were.

That had been at half-eight, and apparently, you’d been too busy wallowing in your thoughts to notice his absence. Swallowing guiltily, you push back the covers and get up to go find him. 

It’s only when you’re halfway between the staircase and the kitchen that you hear a sniffle, and you freeze in place. Without hearing anything else, your entire body goes cold and your heart sinks at the noise. There’s only one reason you’d hear that from the kitchen, and you know he’s not watching TikTok or anything because his phone is back upstairs.

Padding to the kitchen door, you peer through and look inside. He hasn’t turned the light on, so the room is in darkness but you can make out the sight of him standing by the counter next to the sink through what light comes through the window. His oversized black shirt hugs his broad shoulders, and you note that he’s bracing himself against the counter.

The noise comes again, and you watch carefully as his shoulders jerk in time with it, before his hand comes up to his face. Gripping the door frame tightly, you take in the fact that he’s crying. And he’s doing it quietly, so you won’t hear.

“Jungkook?” Whispering his name out, his shoulders stiffen in response and you feel your heart break. You didn’t want to catch him out, nor did you ever want to make him feel like he needs to hide this from you, but clearly you have. Maybe he just didn’t want to talk about it with you, which makes your heart hurt even more.

“Are you…are you okay?” Moving over to him, you hesitate for a moment before placing a hand against his back. He feels stiff and uncomfortable in a way you’ve never felt before, but he’s not giving off any hostile vibes to you. More like he’s embarrassed to have been caught, which makes you even more sad.

“Talk to me, please.” Slowly, you let your hands slide around his sides until you’re hugging him, your cheek pressed to his back muscle whilst your palms stroke his stomach. Not in a sexual way, but in a soothing way. You want him to know you’re here for him. He’s been your rock for the last few weeks, and you’re his rock as well. Or so you hope.

“Sorry, it’s nothing.” Jungkook says, his voice filled with faux happiness but you can hear the way it wavers slightly. Squeezing him tighter, you ponder for a moment whether to let him carry on with his act, before deciding against it. He’s clearly hurting, and it’s only now that you realise that you’ve not talked about how he’s felt about the miscarriage. The focus medically and personally had been on you, given that it had been your body going through the miscarriage.

“It’s something, I know you. Please talk to me, I’m here for you just like you were here for me. Don’t hold back, talk to me.” You beg him, holding him tighter until he lets out a deep sigh that makes you rise and fall with him. If he doesn’t want to, then you won’t push anymore, but you don’t want him to feel like he has to keep quiet.

But then he lightly grasps one of your wrists, his fingers slightly cold against your skin as holds on tightly. Not in a way to hurt you, but almost to anchor himself. Then he takes another deep breath, but you hear the way it wavers and catches.

Almost immediately, you reach out to turn him around before cupping his cheeks in your hands. Even in the dim light, you see the way his eyes glisten with unshed tears and the shiny tracks down his face where they’ve already fallen. Seeing the clear signs of distress and upset on his face felt like someone just reached into your chest and twisted your heart.

“Baby…” 

Without saying anything else, you grab the two water bottles he’d filled up and left on the side before taking his hand and tugging at it gently. There’s a tiny bit of resistance from him before he gives in and lets you pull him along as you go back upstairs. Neither of you says anything, but you sit on the bed and pull the covers over your lap before looking at him expectantly with a welcoming smile.

There’s a brief second where he just stands there and looks down at the floor before letting out a deep sigh and crawling onto the bed. And then, of his own accord, he reaches out and takes your hand before squeezing it tightly.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to, but I’d really like it if you would. Please. You’ve been here for me these last two weeks but I’m here for you, too. Please don’t think you have to hide things from me, I don’t want that.” You beg, bringing his hand up to your mouth and pressing a kiss to it as if you can imprint your sincerity into his skin.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything for a moment, still as silent as ever but you get the sense that he’s on the verge, so you stay quiet as well. Let him come to you, now that you’ve made clear you’re here for him. Something like this, what he’s feeling and how he’s coping, can’t be pushed and you need him to feel comfortable with you.

Finally, he lets out another sigh but it’s far shakier and weaker than the previous one. Nose-length, wavy black hair obscures most of his eyes to you as he keeps his head bowed, but you see how he presses his lips together in a desperate attempt to keep it together. Quietly, you kiss his hand again and he finally breaks.

“I’m sorry, I don’t…I don’t know what to say. Or what I’m meant to say, and I…god I feel so stupid for getting like this.” He croaks out, pulling your entwined hands to press against his forehead in a clear sign of desperation. You can see his eyes now, and he’s got them closed. Despite that, you can easily see the puffiness and redness of his skin.

“Hey, don’t feel stupid. Whatever you’re feeling isn’t stupid, and you’re not meant to say anything. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to. I’m here for you, though, and you can talk to me about anything. Especially this. Please don’t hold it inside.” Jungkook sniffles again, his entire body jolting with the movement before he shakes his head slowly.

“It’s not, I mean - you were the one who went through this. I should be stronger for you, not falling apart like this and making you care for me. Not after what you’ve gone through.” Each word is thick with tears and you sigh quietly, wondering when you’d given him the impression that he wasn’t allowed to feel sad or upset. You’d thought your relationship was more honest than this, but you’re honest enough to acknowledge that you’ve been wallowing in your sorrow lately.

“Hey, don’t talk like that, okay? You were strong for me, and you still are. Don’t start any of that toxic masculinity bullshit, not now. It was your baby too, and even if you didn’t have to go through any of the physical pain then you’re still going through it mentally. So, talk to me. Even if you think you’re sounding selfish or dumb, I want to hear and be here for you in the same way you’ve been here for me.” And just like that, he bursts into heaving sobs that rack his whole body - two weeks' worth of hurt and pain and confusion that he’d hidden away finally coming to the fore.

Immediately, you pull him to you and wrap him up in your arms, letting your fingers run through his hair as you whisper soft words of assurance to him. It makes you want to cry, and already you have tears building at the sheer pain in his sobs. 

“I feel like such a bad person, I couldn’t do anything for you and I just had to sit and watch as you hurt and went through all this. And I couldn’t fucking do anything but just…sit there like a goddamn lemon. I’ve never felt so fucking useless because I couldn’t do anything! You were going through this horrible thing, and I was just…I was useless. You were so excited for the baby and then, suddenly, it was like…and I felt guilty! Because what if I’d done something to cause this? Maybe in my sleep, I moved weirdly and hurt you, and it was all my fault? 

“Or-or what if it was fate or whatever saying that I don’t deserve to be a dad yet? I know I’d said I was fine with it all but in the back of my mind, I kept thinking like…what if I’m not? What if I’m not ready to be a dad? What if I’ll hate it? Maybe I don’t actually want this, and then you were miscarrying and what if it was me? Did I cause it? Maybe the baby knew that I wasn’t fully invested or something and, like, I mean, it’s stupid I know but I can’t help thinking it and then I get so upset because I did want the baby and I did want to be a daddy but I was scared as well and I didn’t mean it! I didn’t, I swear I didn’t mean it!” 

His words are slurred together as he rushes to get them out, some of them catching in his throat as he sobs and you struggle to make sense of them sometimes. But you get the general gist and you want to cry with him. Jungkook had spent two weeks thinking things like this? The thought of it makes your heart break all over again and hug him tighter to you, pressing kisses to his head as he continues.

“And then, like, I mean, I just didn’t know what to do. Would people blame me? Am I even allowed to feel sad or upset because we didn’t even plan it? I know the nurse said that I would grieve too but like…it wasn’t happening to me. It was happening to you - I hadn’t done anything. It was all in your body, so why was I getting upset? But then I couldn’t make you feel good, I couldn’t take the pain away and you were already so much…I didn’t want to tell you any of this. I didn’t want to be a burden on you or make you feel like you needed to take care of me when you were going through this awful thing. I needed to be strong for you, not fall apart but it was so hard.” He pauses now and pulls away, pushing his hair out of his face before finally looking at you for the first time.

You’ve never seen him cry like this, and you feel guilty that he’d been holding all of this inside. That he’d felt he had to be strong and push all of his hurt and sadness and confusion to the side for you. But at the same time, you understand him. The attention has been on you for the last two weeks, and he’s just been on the periphery of it all. 

“Jungkook…baby, listen to me, okay? I’m sorry that I didn’t notice, and before you say anything - yes, I was going through a lot but that’s not an excuse. We’re partners, and you felt like you couldn’t rely on me. I love you, and I love you even more after these last few weeks because you’ve been the perfect partner for me. Taking such good care of me, making sure I’m eating and coping, giving me painkillers when I need them and sorting out the house. You’ve been amazing, and I’m…I’m so sorry that I didn’t see. You’re not a burden, and you never have been.” 

Cupping his face gently, you wipe away his tears before leaning over and pressing a kiss to his nose. He sniffles afterwards, looking embarrassed and shy, but you can already see a lightness to him, like getting it off his chest has made him feel better. Given how cathartic you find it to complain or rant about things, you know that you’re probably right.

“I just…I feel like I should’ve done better.” He whispers, his beautiful eyes watery with tears whilst his lip quivers.

“You did perfect, I swear. I know that you didn’t understand what I was feeling physically, but you’ve helped me so much. Please don’t think that you didn’t do enough, because you did. And don’t feel like you’re not allowed to grieve, it was your baby too. You didn’t do anything to cause this, just like I didn’t - believe me, I’ve blamed myself a million times but I know that, rationally, I didn’t do anything. These things happen, and that’s the same for you. Life isn’t punishing you or me, because I had the same thoughts you did. What if I wasn’t ready and I was just lying about it? What if I had the baby and I realised I hated being a mom? I think those are normal thoughts, and you’ve not been punished. Neither have I, it’s hard to come to terms with, but I swear it’s true.” Stroking his cheeks, you give him a reassuring smile even as more tears spill over onto his cheeks.

There’s not the same level of desperation behind them as before, and you sense that you’ve both turned a corner. Letting go of his face, you open your arms and gesture with your head towards the bed.

“Cuddle?” Jungkook nods, his expression almost a little shy and your heart aches at just how young he looks. Sure, he’s a fully grown adult and he’s only six years younger than you, but there’s an expression on his face that makes him look so lost. Given everything you’ve learnt about Jungkook, it hurts even more when you know how naturally empathetic he is so you can’t even begin to imagine how hard this has been for him.

Going through the process of miscarriage physically was something you never want to go through again, even if you can’t guarantee that, but you also can’t imagine having to stand on the sidelines and just watch it all happen. Knowing that you can’t do anything to change what’s happening, or make it feel better.

The two of you curl under the covers, and Jungkook presses his face into your chest as he curls into a ball. Sighing, you sling a leg over his hips and let your fingers play with his hair. He’s held you like this so many times for the last two weeks, and you feel a sense of satisfaction and peace that you can do the same for him.

“Grieve as much as you want, Jungkook. Don’t hold it in, okay? Don’t ever feel bad for whatever you’re feeling, and if you want to talk to me then do it. You can tell your friends if you want if you think they’ll help you if you want to talk through stuff that you’re not comfortable talking about with me. Or your therapist, whatever you choose…you’re not alone, okay? You’ve made me feel so loved and cared for, and I want you to know that I love and care for you just as much.” You kiss his hair, the only part of his head you can reach given he’s burrowed his face into you.

“Love you” He mumbles, and you more feel the words as they vibrate against your skin than hear him. Smiling, you hug him a little tighter and repeat the words back to him.

[holdmytesseract]

Wrecked

Loki Laufeyson x fem!Reader

Summary: Your grief swallows you whole, leaving you with nothing but a bleeding heart. How can you escape this?

Warnings: angst, sadness, heartbreak? mentions of death, grief and loss, alcohol

Word Count: 865

a/n: I wrote this little something while listening to the Subtract album from Ed Sheeran. ☺️ But this lil' oneshot is especially inspired by 'Eyes Closed'. I also included a few lines of the lyrics. Hope y'all like it! 💛

Tagging: y'all in the comments, 'cause tumblr seemingly doesn't like to tag you guys anymore... 🙄

Masterlist

Life wasn't the same anymore. Not since Ragnarok happened. Not since Thanos happened. In the blink of an eye, the power-hungry titan had taken everything from you. Everything which meant something to you. Loki. The person you loved most in all the nine realms. But Thanos? Thanos just killed him like it was nothing - and with Loki died a big part of your heart, mind, body and soul, too. You had desperately tried to hold him back, stop him, make him not do what he wanted to do - but of course he didn't listen to you and did it anyway. He had to. You knew that now. You understood - but that didn't ease the pain in the slightest.

Since that day, you felt numb. Nothing more than grief, pain and emptiness running through your system. You lived your life like a robot; running on autopilot. Day in, day out it was always the same. Get up, sometimes have a shower, have breakfast, go to work, get home, eat, try to overcome your loss, go to sleep and repeat. Everybody told you that time heals all wounds. Not for you. The wound was deep. Way too deep to ever be able to heal completely. Life without him was just so difficult. It was a fight every day. His love gave you strength, happiness, vitality, energy and so much more. And suddenly your source of life was gone. Snap. You didn't even have the choice to say goodbye. So many unspoken words, feelings and emotions. Now it was too late.

"And you are sure you don't want to come?" Natasha asked, giving you a compassionate look. You shook your head. "No, I, uh, I think I'll just go to bed. It's been a long day." The red-haired woman nodded. "Alright. I can't force you to come with us - and I won't." She placed a hand on your arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. "Just know that hiding away in there won't help or make it better either." Nat was right - and you knew it; but you just couldn't bring yourself to join the team's activities and trips. Instead, you flopped down on your bed and stared aimlessly up at the ceiling, like you did so often. Could he see me now? Laying here and thinking about him? Does he think about me, too? What would he say, if he'd see me like this? So many thoughts were running through your mind; penetrating your mind and vanishing a few seconds later again. It was so heavy... Dealing with the difficult cards life had dealt.

Sometime around midnight - the others were still out, clubbing, you decided to head to a bar, unable to find sleep. Maybe a few drinks helped. Wouldn't be the first time that you tried to drown your sorrow and grief in alcohol. So, you slipped in your jacket and some shoes, before you made your way outside, leaving the Avengers compound behind yourself and heading for the next best bar. Unfortunately, your muscle memory worked way too good; body controlled by your heart, resulting in your feet leading you to this one bar... The bar you used to go to with Loki. Of course, you thought with an eyeroll; feeling the familiar pain shooting through your heart - like pierced by an arrow. You wanted to turn around and leave, but you couldn't. So, you stepped through the door of the bar - and that was when it hit you again. Hard. You saw it coming. Of course, you did. But what were you supposed to do? Memories of all the good times spent here with Loki flooded your mind, causing tears to well up in your eyes, which you blinked away quickly. Alcohol. You were here for the alcohol. Not to cry.

Hesitatingly, you sat on one of the bar stools, ordering the strongest drink possible. Only a few people were left, due to the late hour. Soft music played in the background. You didn't pay attention at first, but the more time passed, you couldn't help but listen - only bringing back even more memories. Every song reminded you that Loki was gone; and you felt the lump forming in your throat once again. You sat here alone - and you'd be forever.

Everywhere you looked, you saw him. His handsome face, smiling at you. You saw him, when you looked beside you, where he was seated on the barstool beside you, hand wrapped around his drink. You saw him when you looked across the room to the door, strolling inside the bar, dressed in black slacks and a black shirt with rolled up sleeves. You saw him when your eyes settled on the dance floor, on which you and him spent so many nights, dancing away until dawn.

Taking a big sip of your drink, you closed your eyes, tears free-falling and let the music swallow you whole.

Everything was changing - you knew that. It was a natural thing. A part of being alive. Yes, everything changed. But nothing was the same anymore - except the truth was now that Loki was gone.

Divider by the wonderful @fictive-sl0th <3