#hands are shakier than i thought so only these two for today we think

[petrichoremojis]

[ID: a speech bubble containing a red book, which is crossed out. end ID]

for the phrase 'not what i meant'. requested on Discord

[thelightsandtheroses]

5. touch me, i'm golden

Let's Get Lost Chapter 5 | Frankie Morales x female reader

Summary: You and Frankie aren’t together anymore but you’re in a good place. However, spending a week together for your mutual friends’ wedding on a luxury resort might challenge that slightly and realising you’re still in love with your ex is a sure-fire recipe for disaster … Tropes: it was always you, getting back with the ex, beach!Frankie (you know *that* photoshoot) miscommunication, only one bed, good parent Frankie Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, references to past drug addiction, references to alcohol, historic argument referenced, one passing reference to body insecurity, reader is unnamed with no physical desctipton but wears a necklace, Frankie and reader are parents, yearning? Word Count: 3600 Notes: Thank you for the lovely feedback so far - it's meant so much to me and I hope you enjoy this update. I am so excited to share this chapter with you! The chapter title is from Let's Get Lost by Bats for Lashes

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Chapter Warnings: 18+ MDNI, oral (f!receiving), reader wears a dress, reader and Frankie are parents, mentions of alcohol, discussion of contraception, one moment of panic.

Frankie’s arms are around you, familiar and safe. It brings back memories of the mornings before, a montage of happy and fleeting moments you once thought would make up your forever.

You don’t feel bitter about it today.

You kissed him yesterday. The two of you kissed more accurately, because it was definitely mutual. Your plans at showing how mature, how evolved the two of you were that you could share a hotel room and co-parents and put Clara first feel on shakier ground than ever. A crush was one thing, laughable almost, but to kiss him?

You missed him though. The feel of his stubble against your skin, the way his arms encompass you right now, even just the heat of his skin.

You can pretend being single is fine, that sleeping in the middle of the bed is a bonus and a privilege, but you have truly missed Frankie. He was supposed to be your forever after all.

He moves, slowly shifting from his slumber. You hear him exhale and then a sleepy, “Mornin’. Is Clara up yet?”

You shake your head as you turn around as quietly as you can, letting Frankie rest a hand on your hip over the duvet.

“So we should talk.“

Frankie smiles. “Here it comes.” His tone doesn’t match his face, it’s forced and there’s a wistful and bitter edge to it.

”Here what comes?”

“It was a mistake, it’s going to wreck everything, you don’t feel that way anymore.” He shrugs sadly. “It’s okay.”

“Frankie.”

“I mean it, it’s okay. On vacation … we’re on vacation, right? Everything goes topsy turvy on vacation.”

“I - don’t, Frankie, I don’t think it was a mistake.” Or at least you didn’t.

The pause feels like forever.

“You don’t?”

You shake your head, nervously pulling the duvet closer to you. Please don’t say it was a mistake, you think, because what could be worse than falling for your ex at your best friend's wedding and then it not even being reciprocated. The two of you will have to go back to Lia and Ben ferrying Clara between homes, it will be a disaster.

“I -” Frankie exhales, “Fuck.”

“Fuck?”

“I - I don’t know how to …. Look, I don’t think it’s a mistake, I don’t. And I don’t because I’ve never stopped feeling like it’s you, that you and me ... I never stopped. I love you and I think I always will.”

“Frankie,” There’s a lump in your throat and you’re not sure what to say. Frankie’s always struggled with words, his love language is action, physicality.

He showed his love to you a hundred ways when you were together, before the addiction. You would characterise his love as thoughtful gestures, the featherlight touches if you passed him that sent flutters to your stomach, the way he’d bring home your favourite meal if you had a rough day. That might not sound a lot, but for several years you didn’t that Frankie didn’t like that dish at all, that it was one of his least favourite meals or cuisines. He would get it for you though - if he thought it would make you smile.

Words weren’t his forte, he was driven by action, by physical gestures.

“I don’t expect you to be the same,” Frankie adds, “The way I was, the way things were, I know I let you and Clara down so much and I was a mess.” He’s speaking in a low voice but you hear the crack of emotion in his voice when he mentions Clara.

“You were hurting.”

“I hurt a lot of people doing that though. I missed so much with Clara,” he says sadly.

“She only knows you’re her dad who she adores and who, let’s be honest, is wrapped around her little finger. How many times have I picked you up with hair clips in your hair?”

“A few. I’m steeling myself for when she discovers nail varnish.”

“We have a few years before then, I hope.” You reach for Frankie’s arm and squeeze his hand. “You need to stop punishing yourself for the past, please, Frankie.”

“I - yeah.”

“Good.”

“So neither of us think it was a mistake, huh?” he asks after a moment, a wry grin spreading on his face.

“Mummy? Daddy?” Clara calls.

This holiday, your child has clearly developed an uncanny ability to join a conversation at the worst time. You’re not sure where she’s learnt this skill from, or if all toddlers have this, but it’s starting to seem like a pattern.

“Hey, good morning, Clara,” Frankie says, rousing himself from the bed. “What are we thinking we’ll go for at breakfast today? Pancakes? Waffles?”

He looks back at you, a thousand unspoken words in his eyes as he winks - a promise for later.

“It’s me,” Frankie calls as you hear the room door close behind you. You left Frankie and Clara at breakfast a little earlier, partly to escape the tension between you and Frankie that you were sure everyone else could see.

“I’m in the bathroom, won’t be long. I’m decent though.”

You turn around to see Frankie smirking, one arm against the door jamb of the bathroom. He’s clearly been watching you neatening things in the bathroom. He doesn’t say anything but just raises an eyebrow.

He may have already clocked the made bed, you think.

“Well, I don’t want housekeeping to think we’re messy,” you say, holding your hands up defensively. You don’t know why it matters you, but you really don’t want to be judged by the housekeeping, to be one of those awkward tourist families. You’re used to cleaning up a room now, it’s just good manners surely?

“You haven’t changed,” he says with affection.

You’re not sure what to say to that, how to respond. You have changed, you know you have. You feel sharper around the edges than before, cynical and most of all tired. You’re scared about that.

Frankie’s confession fills is reverberating in your mind because what if thinks you’re the same person, or has this idealised version of you on a pedestal? You’ll disappoint him surely.

He’s loved you all this time, through everything. Surely that means something?

“Where’s Clara?” you ask, looking around Frankie to see if your daughter is hiding behind him.

“Kids’ club, they’re doing crafts and apparently she absolutely couldn’t miss it,” Frankie says softly. ”Same crafts she can do at home, but -”

You smile. Clara’s already excitedly told the two of you about the friends she’s made in the club, about the fun she has there. Part of you wants her with you all the time to make memories, so you know you’re giving her the very best time you can, but you’re so grateful for the chance to unwind too, to remember who you are beyond Clara’s parent.

“So, it’s just you and me?”

“It’s just you and me until the boat trip,” he replies in a low voice, standing closer to you and framing his arms around you.

“Whatever will we do?”

“No idea, you said something about a book, right? You had a few to read this vacation - are you done with that?”

Frankie kisses you, it’s lazy and soft and oh so addictive and you immediately return the gesture, enjoying the feel of his skin, the heat of his lips against yours.

“Hmm, yeah, definitely could do with some reading time,” you tease, “but uh, maybe later.“

“Thank god,” he says, deepening the kiss and guiding you against the sink. “I’ve been thinking about this since yesterday. Haven’t been able to get you off my mind.”

“Oh really?”

“Uh huh,” Frankie says, kissing the edge of jaw. “Been thinking about what I’d do if this … if this happened. If I got the opportunity to do this again.”

“What were you thinking about doing?” you ask, looking up at his deep brown eyes that are full of mischief.

“Well, I guess you’ll have to find out.”

“Colour me intrigued.”

Frankie kisses you, filled with confidence and you let him steer you up onto the counter, instinctively wrapping your legs against him and trying to bring him closer to you. Your hands linger on the edge of his T-shirt and you pull at the hem to bring it over his head.

You’ve been thinking about this since the kiss. Looking at Frankie now with his shirt off and mussed up curls, all you want is him. You have no idea what you want to do first, there’s part of you that just wants to touch him, to validate he’s here and real, and yours for the moment. It’s been so long. Even this week, this realisation at the start feels like an age ago, like you’ve been anticipating him for years.

Frankie’s hands are on your legs, moving up and underneath your summer dress as he kisses the sensitive spot behind your ear. He traces circles on your inner thigh as he pulls away from his kiss.

“Hey,” you start but he just winks.

That wink really shouldn’t make you feel quite as aroused it does. That wink is dangerous. Very dangerous.

Frankie moves his kisses further down, his hands pushing your dress further up your thigh before, your underwear down your legs and you kick them off.

“Fuck, I missed you,” he whispers, awe in his voice.

There’s something about being with Frankie that you’ve never experienced with other men. He has this way of making you feel safe and seen and like there is nothing more he wants than to be with you. It’s addictive and the feeling storms through your mind in a rush.

He kisses the inside of your knee, tracing light kisses up your leg, spreading your legs with his hand as he moves towards your centre.

“Just look at you,” he utters, awe in his voice before he puts his mouth on you.

You reach for his hair, fingers knotted around the curls at the nape of his neck and try not to pull as he swipes up your centre to your clitoris, one hand on your right hip and the other holding your scrunched up dress away.

“Fuck, I’ve missed this,” he says before diverting his attention back to his ministrations. Every touch, every movement Frankie makes is masterful. He’s an expert at building you up, at listening and reacting to every part of your body, to bring you to the very edge. “Missed you.”

You feel like there’s a thousand things Frankie’s trying to tell you through this moment, all those unspoken words and sentiments. Every part of you is reacting, your mind is becoming wonderfully clear, focused only on him, on the way he makes you feel.

The heat builds in your stomach, every swipe or suck causing a new ripple of delight. You try and shift, let your body move in react, your hips bucking at one point as Frankie masterfully maintains his hold on you.

You can feel the pressure building, are barely conscious of the sounds you’re making as your back arches, as you shut your eyes and delight in everything Frankie is doing.

“C’mon, baby, you’re nearly there,” he encourages. “That’s it.”

You feel the way your legs are shaking, the way each muscle is tensing and preparing for that oh so needed release.

You say his name, Frankie, Frankie, Frankie.

The taste of you on his lips, both of your breathing is ragged and you wrap your arms around him, aiming to move but he keeps you in place.

“Steady,” he says gently.

“What about you?”

“Soon, soon, baby. It’s not a game, we got time.”

Have you? Is there time? Part of you wants to protest, to say no, you have to fit in as much time together as possible now because at some point you’ll need to go home. The two of you are in limbo, in the vacation idyll and how, how does this continue in Florida? Would it? Would he want to? What does it all mean?

“Honey, I can see your brain working overtime,” he says softly.

“I just -”

“We don’t need to overthink it,” he replies, but you notice the way he’s stiffened slightly and he’s taken a step backwards.

“I -” you pause, unsure of what to say but wanting to fill the pause, stop the silence. ��I’m sorry, it’s a lot.”

“That’s okay, it’s okay,” he reassures you.

It’s this that abates the anxiety, finally clearing the buzzing in your brain. Frankie’s gentle reassurance washes over you like a palm The lack of assumptions, the way this man makes you feel safe. He doesn’t even feel real to you right now. As he moves away you pull him closer, entwining your body with his.

“Frankie, I need you,” you say.

He looks at you with clear heat in his eyes. “I - what?”

You smile at him, drawing him closer. “Frankie, please will you take me to bed?”

He smirks. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

The sudden smugness in his voice makes you giggle but then his lips are on you again.

The two of you are touching the whole time you move from the bathroom to the bed. Hands. Lips. You don’t want to be away from him, to break this moment between the two of you.

Your dress is off, his shorts discarded to the floor and boxers kicked somewhere in the room.

He guides you to the mattress, kissing your lips and then the right and left side of your jaw. The reverent way he looks at you makes you wonder if he’s trying to commit every part of you, of this moment, to his memory.

You reach up and touch his jaw. His eyes are heavy with desire, you can feel the coarse stubble on his jawline, the familiarity of his body on you. He smells different and the same at once. It’s all mixed up in coconut scented sunscreen, the same cologne he used to wear on date nights. The one you loved. He looks healthy again, he looks like the Frankie you fell in love with.

He kisses you. “Are you sure you want to -” he begins.

“Absolutely. Do you?”

He raises an eyebrow, looking down to draw your attention to his erection. “I already said I’ve never stopped wanting you.”

“Even when it was bad? Back when you hated me?”

“Even then. And hate’s a strong word.” He pauses. “I just want to - five minutes ago you seemed worried and I don’t want that. We can slow this down, baby, we’ve got time. Or, we don’t have to -”

“I mean it too. I want this. I want you.”

You want to bottle up the smile Frankie wears in response. It would be the purest serotonin, happiness in a bottle.

“I - I’m on the pill still if you don’t have a condom.”

“Good, good. I don’t actually, I can get them though. But I’ve been tested and I’m clean.”

“That’s good, that’s fine. Want you, want to feel you.”

“Fuck, you’re killing me,” he says, groaning slightly which sends an immediate thrill down your body.

Part of you still feels awkward about these conversations but there’s something about the way Frankie’s looking at you, the heat pooling in your body, the knowledge of just how much your body wants Frankie right now. How much you want him.

He guides himself into you. It feels familiar and yet new. This was not the problem with you and Frankie; your bodies connected and every time you were with him, it felt so real, so right. You kiss. entwining fingers together as he moves, as both of you raggedly breathe. He groans into your mouth as he kisses you and you tighten your arms around him and the two of settle into a rhythm.

“You’re incredible,” he says.

“So are you,” you say, “so are you.”

You can feel the sensation rising, a crescendo of feeling and then you are there. A tangle of each other’s names, of gasping breaths and sweat coated limbs.

In the aftermath, you both lie there. A woozy peaceful sensation has filled your body and mind. You're almost afraid to voice your thought, that being with Frankie again just then was better than you had imagined.

“Is it wrong I want to say we’ve still got it?” Frankie asks after a minute.

You laugh. “No, no, not at all. Was thinking something similar. That was - that was something.”

“Shit, I don’t think I’m going to be able to think for five more minutes.”

“Just five? Clearly we need more practice.”

“Well, I could sign up for that,” Frankie says.

“We need to get ready for the catamaran trip.”

“Nah, we don’t. I’ve been on boats before. We can stay right here.”

“Benny and Lia get married tomorrow, baby. We need to -” You break off.

“What is it?” Frankie props himself on an elbow and looks at you carefully.

“We can’t ruin their wedding.”

“What do you mean?”

“After Will’s -”

“That’s not going to happen,” he says, soothing and calm.

“I can’t wreck another -”

“You didn’t. We didn’t. They’re happy, it’s okay. It was, it was bad, yes, but -” Frankie swallows. “I’m sober now.”

“I know. I know.”

“We won’t ruin it.”

“We can’t take away from their day, or … any of it.” What if they find out and ask questions? You have no idea what comes next with Frankie, if this feeling is just a vacation escape or if it’s, as you suspect. real. What you do on vacation isn’t real life. A holiday romance is just that, it doesn’t survive the real world.

You can’t lead everyone through another of yours and Frankie’s heartbreaks. You don’t think you can go through it again.

The calm wash of your pleasures has been replaced with sharp panic. A bucket of water thrown over your delusions.

You love Frankie, but this is wrong. You can’t be together right now. You cannot ruin Benny and Lia’s wedding; you cannot ruin the peace between you and Frankie. What if it doesn’t work again, what if this time it’s worse? What about Clara?

You thought it would be worth it to be with him, but is the cost too high?

“So, you want us to not talk about this with the others right now?” Frankie asks, “Seems fine.”

“Santi’s been glaring at me for days.”

“Santi’s just worried about me,” Frankie admits, “He knows, he knows how I feel. How I still feel. He was worried about me on this break. Thought I was putting myself through it unnecessarily.”

“Were you?”

“We’re here now.”

“But if we weren’t?”

“We are though,” he says simply.

“What if it’s not enough? I love you, Frankie, I do. What if that’s not enough though? I can’t, we can’t mess up everything again. Clara’s not a baby now, she could remember. I don’t want that for her.”

“I know this is a lot.”

“I’m scared, Frankie,” you admit, “I don’t know what this all means for us or -”

He reaches and clasping your hand in his. “Don’t overthink it. We can just -”

“What? We can fuck on vacation and pretend it didn’t happen? You can tell me you still love me and think that doesn’t change anything? That I can say that back to you too? Then we go home in a couple of days and pretend nothing happened? It just didn’t matter.”

“Of course it does. if it’s too much though, if we can’t - we have to figure out how to move past that then and I can. I don’t want this to upset you, or me, or Clara, or fucking anyone.”

“I think we need some space to think.”

Frankie whispers your name.

“It’s just too much right now,” you say, voice thick with tears. “I love you, Frankie.”

“And I think we’ve established, I’m the same. Is that not enough?”

“We should get ready. That trip’s booked soon, isn’t it? We need to get Clara too.”

“Please, can we just talk about this some more?”

You make it to the bathroom before you start crying.

The bathroom makes it worse. It’s a shrine to your previous activities.

You’ll never be able brush your teeth amongst these marble counters and take in the luxury of a heated mirror without thinking of the way he methodically and precisely took you apart on the counter with his mouth and the way he left you saying his name like it was some sort of divine incantation because there were no other words left in your mind.

You want this still, you want him. You want to live in those moments in the bathroom and bedroom before your panic, you want to restart everything and pretend the break-up never happened.

It did though. There’s Clara too and she surely deserves so much more than this. She needs stability and calm parents who are drama free and don’t cause her problems through their own relationship drama.

You love each other though. Is Frankie right, is that enough?

Love didn’t seem to be enough before. It only made the wound wider and pain sharper. You don't want that heartbreak again, you don't want it for Frankie either.

You want love to be enough though. You don’t just want Frankie for this time you’re on vacation. You want Frankie and you back home in Florida. You want regular days with him too. You want coffee before work and organising chores, going to the grocery store even though you hate grocery shopping.

Love - you want to bask in his love and hope he can do the same with you.

You take a deep breath and finish straightening up.

“You’ve got this,” you say. You just wish you knew what this was.

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[mail-posting]

Some headcanon deductions based off of my headcanon/kin Emil :3

1. Warm: The default state of being, and all that anyone truly ever wants.

A photograph: a mother and father stand each side of a young child. Their hands do not touch.

2. A lamb: Little knowledge, little skills, little idea when to run away.

A photograph: A sick boy leans half-heartedly on his unconscious mother's chest in the street. His crying eyes are wide as they reflect the flash of the camera. The world screams to a halt for him.

3. Empty home: Even with the strange food and the scary voices and the loud noises you can hear, the thing that hurts the most is the need to stay awake.

A diary entry: All that boy's good for is sympathy! He's hopeless at stealing, or tricking, or lying, or anything else we do. I'd be better off raising more hounds than keeping this useless brat!

At the very least, I could make it fun for me to watch.

4. Trapped: You thought you could run away, but the roars of the crowd only got closer and closer.

A diary entry: Damn it all! I thought they would have torn him to shreds, but he managed to fight his way out. looks like he has some strength to him.

The crowd cheered more than I've ever heard them before. I could certainly use his win for a profitable idea...

5: A mutt: maybe this isn't so bad after all...

A photograph: A teenager, bloody and bruised and scarred, is lying asleep on the bottom of a cramped cage. Shackles are locked tight around his ankles. There's a cracked bowl of "food" laying clearly out of reach. It is swarmed by maggots. Despite everything, he looks oddly happy. Must be a nice dream he's having. Shame that it'll be interrupted soon.

6. Stare: You're such an unsightly thing, aren't you?

A diary entry: I saw something on my walk today. I thought it may have been a dog, or some strange lamb, so I wandered up to it. But they were human as they uncurled themselves from where they must have been asleep.

I didn't want to run, I just... panicked. I couldn't find them again to apologise. I hope prayer will be enough. I'm so sorry...

Your son, A. K.

7. Rain: Wash away the filth, the pain, the memories...

A patient record:

Found: on white sand street.

Identity: "Emil"

Age: ?? (16+)

Reasons for institutionalisation: high fever, amnesia, talking to self, disobedient, laziness, bad company.

Suggested treatment: Obedience training involving electroshock therapy and sedatives between. Should be muzzled until trained into not biting. Should be strapped down until trained into not wandering.

8. Gentle words: The faux feeling of safety lifts you up and drops you back down without you having to think... up...down...up...down...sleep.

A medical note: "Emil" has been reacting well to the sedative treatments. However, he currently needs painful stimuli in order to keep himself awake. The ideal state is barely conscious enough to function, so alterations are needed.

The training has, however, gone wonderfully. It has removed his desire to fight or run away completely, although he still freezes up occasionally. It appears he's still having hallucinations.

9. Stressed: That whistle hurts your ears... In fact, everything has hurt more since she appeared.

A small note: a set of neat curly handwriting reads "Ada or medicine?". A different set of shakier handwriting replies "medicine. please". The note is stained with tears.

10: A carriage ride: You've always loved watching the world swim through your glassy eyes.

A photograph: Two men wearing dark clothes are talking to each other to the side of a carriage. One of the men is handing over a hefty sum of money to the other. The one recieving it holds a letter in his hand.

Next to them, a smaller, younger man sits cross legged, wrapping a dandelion clock he picked around his fingers. He looks exhausted, or maybe just empty, but there's a smile on his face as the seeds catch in his hair.

[sunshinereddie]

17, 23 or 27 :3c

17, 23, OR 27????? how about 17, 23, AND 27 :D

17. fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or tucking their hair behind their ear

The main reason Richie Tozier never really dressed up for his shows was because he had never really learned how to tie a tie. His dad had tried to teach him time and time again, but Richie always forgot just as quickly as he learned. And for that reason, much to the displeasure of his network and marketing agent, he refused to wear a tie, or formal clothes at all, on stage.

Aside from that, not knowing how to tie a tie generally had little impact on Richie’s life- it wasn’t exactly a problem that came up on a day to day basis. That is, until it was a problem.

Richie stood in front of the mirror, his suit feeling warmer and his hands becoming shakier with each try at knotting his tie- and becoming more frustrated with each failed attempt.

When the fabric, now wrinkled, unrolled and fell flat against his chest for the tenth time, Richie was considering swallowing his pride and going to find someone to help him, when the door behind him suddenly opened. Richie was surprised to see Eddie walking in, but couldn't even get a word in to ask what he was doing before Eddie spoke up first.

"Of course things are behind schedule, of course they are..." he mumbled, making his way across the room. Richie noticed that his suit was styles and buttoned up perfectly, along with a perfectly-tied tie, because of course it was. "Things were supposed to get started fifteen minutes ago," Eddie continued. "But people are still arriving, for fuck's sake. It clearly said to arrive at one-thirty, not two-fifteen. We won't get started until two-thirty at the earliest, at this rate."

When Eddie crossed the room and finally made it to Richie, he immediately busied himself with Richie's tie, his hands moving quickly as he continued to ramble about everything that had gone wrong so far that day. Richie watched and listened as Eddie seemed to effortlessly tied the knot, then as he moved to button up Richie's jacket, then to fix Richie's untucked collar. As Eddie used one hand to try and smooth down the wrinkles in Richie's shirt and the other to tuck a loose strand of Richie's hair back into place, Richie placed his hands down on Eddie's shoulders, and smiled.

"Eds," he said softly, cutting off Eddie's rant about how the weather forecast said it was supposed to be sunny, but the day had turned cloudy. Eddie looked up from Richie's suit, and Richie saw his expression soften when Eddie's big, worried, eyes met Richie's.

"I'm sorry," Eddie said softly, his hands moving back to Richie's tie, gently straightening it after it had been pushed askew from when Eddie had been fixing Richie's jacket. "I just... I want today to be perfect."

"It will be," Richie assured him, wrapping his arms around Eddie's waist. Eddie gave a small smile to that, and although Richie knew that Eddie's mind was undoubtedly still swimming with worried thoughts and What-Ifs, Richie hoped that he relived at least some of those worries.

"Hey Rich, have you seen- wait, Eddie?"

Richie looked up, back towards the door to see Ben standing there. He didn't seem as worried as Eddie was, but the flush of his cheeks and the slight unkemptness of his hair suggested to Richie that he was running around as much as Eddie, trying to get everything ready. "What are you doing in here?" Ben asked. "Isn't it, like, bad luck or whatever for the grooms to see each other before the wedding?"

Eddie stiffened, but Richie tightened his arms around his soon-to-be husband before he could spiral too far. "Oh come on now, Ben," he said. "That can't be true- I can't think of anything luckier than marrying the one and only Eddie Kaspbrak himself!"

23. waking up

It was dark. Eddie's vision was fading, as the pain pulsed through him and blood spilled from his chest, he wasn't sure how much longer he would be able to hold on for. He heard Richie by his side, but with all the yelling going on and the maniacal laughter from that fucking clown, Eddie could barely hear him. He was scared, he was going to die, they were all going to die-

Eddie's eyes shot open as a gasp of air filled his lungs. His heart rammed against his chest, and he could feel the sweat on his forehead and the back of his neck. When Eddie saw his bedroom ceiling above him and not the dark surroundings of the cave underneath Neibolt and felt his soft mattress against his back instead of a rocky wall, some of the panic and fear went away, but the horrible memories from that day remained.

Eddie longed for the day that he would stop having nightmares about the day he almost died. He wasn't sure if it would ever come, but if it did, he wished it would hurry the hell up already.

"Eds?" There was a quiet, raspy voice from beside him, then a strong arm wrapping around him. In the darkness of their bedroom, Eddie couldn't see Richie beside him, but Eddie didn't need to see his boyfriend to completely sink into his comfort. " Did'ja have 'nother nightmare?" Richie asked, his words jumbled as he slowly woke up.

Eddie shifted in bed, moving closer to curl up against Richie's chest. "Yeah," he said softly. "I'm sorry I woke you."

Richie let out a big yawn, one arm tightening around Eddie while his other hand trailed up the back of Eddie's neck. "Don't be," he said, sounding a little more awake as his fingers brushed through Eddie's hair. "Actually, it was perfect timing- I gotta tell you about the insane dream I just had before I forget it."

Eddie smiled against Richie's chest as his boyfriend began explaining his dream, where he went mountain climbing with Bill and Henry Bowers and on their way met a strange wizard, who oddly looked a lot like Beverly with a big white beard.

Eddie's nightmares were absolutely not wake-up calls that he enjoyed, and ones he couldn't wait to finally be freed of. But in the meantime, if he was going to be woken up from those horrible memories, at least he had Richie by his side to help him through it.

27. humming/singing

Over the years that Richie had dated, and was now married to Eddie, he learned a lot of Eddie's little habits and quirks. He always put exactly two spoonfuls of sugar in his coffee, and could tell right away when Richie used more or less. He always makes a little scrunched-up face when he's talking on the phone, one that Richie finds incredibly adorable and likes to stare at when Eddie takes work calls at home. He chews on his bottom lip and cracks his knuckles when he's nervous. He believes in ghosts, even though he tells Richie that he doesn't.

One of the quirks that Richie enjoys the most, though, is that Eddie hums.

When he's showering, he's humming. When he's sitting on the couch with his laptop replying to emails, he's humming. When he's cleaning, he's humming. When they're at the grocery store together and Eddie is reading the ingredients list on a box of cereal, he's humming. A lot of the time it's no particular song, but some random melody that Richie can't quite place, but other times he can identify it.

Like the time Eddie was folding his laundry, and Richie could hear him humming a song from the movie they had watched the night before. Or one night when Richie was cooking dinner and Eddie was setting the table, and he was humming one of Richie's favourite songs- the one that Richie had played loudly in the car earlier that day and Eddie had insisted was terrible. Or the time that they were moving into their new apartment, and as Eddie was unloading their belongings from boxes, Richie could hear Eddie gently humming the melody of the song they had had their first dance to at their wedding.

Richie didn't know if Eddie realized how often he hummed, or if most of the time Eddie even realized he was doing it at all. But Richie would never, ever, complain about it. Sometimes after a long, hard day at work, coming home and laying in Eddie's arms while he hums a peaceful tune is as close to perfection as Richie thinks he'll ever get.

[wipples]

WIP: DON'T REBLOG PLS

Small hands held a red phone, the spiral cord trailed over the side of a large red armchair.

"Hello?"

He had been getting a few calls with no response recently. It was more stimulation than he's had in years. It's just been him and Home for so long, his sense of day and night had been completely lost. That's not to blame Home for any of that, there's good reason his friendly house held him inside for a such long time.

Truthfully, at this point he wasn't sure if his phone was working correctly. It hadn't been used to call his friends in quite a while. They never answer anymore either.

Whomever was on the other end has yet to say anything into the receiver for each and every call. Until today.

"...Can you hear me? Wally?"

The drooping of his eyelids have all but vanished in an instant at the faint voice on the other side. His small body sits up suddenly, hunching over slightly to adjust the phone in his grasp like it's a precious item. It's been so long since he's heard another voice.

"Oh! Hello! I can hear you now. You can hear me?"

"I heard you the past few times, but you couldn't hear me. Where are you?"

"I thought you could, I knew you were there but I couldn't... I..." He trailed off for a moment and the person on the other end waited patiently for him to return with his thoughts.

"...I'm inside Home, where are you?"

"I'm outside of the studio where I found this phone. Also, you might need to be a little more specific... Where is your house?"

His voice on the other end grew silent and his caller grew anxious. She heard a draw of breath and anticipated responding, but he didn't say anything.

Her eyes hover over the steering wheel and onto the unmarked building. It looked dilapidated and was covered by all sorts of moss and green shrubbery, the hallmarks of an abandoned building. Google maps didn't show this building, even Google Earth didn't show this building when she got bored and thought it would be funny to check. She found it completely on accident when driving through abandoned looking roads.

There were no gas stations or any other buildings for miles, and that's why she felt this would be the perfect mark. Not the start of a horror movie.

"...The neighborhood? I should be where I always was, but I can't see anything anything through the windows anymore, neighbor." He began speaking again. She almost missed the crack in his voice as he spoke, though his controlled demeanor she could still hear a distinct sadness.

"...the fuck?"

"Language." His immediate response returned his original tone and startled a chuckle out of her. 'Who corrects people for cursing anymore?'

"Sorry... That's just...really strange. You can't see anything outside? Nothing?"

"No... But that's okay, I'm used to it now." Wally squeezes the receiver closer to his cheek, cradling it. "What do you want to talk about first?"

"Er... wait... How about we continue this part of the conversation first?" Wally hums a soft tone in understanding. He nods his head even though she cannot see him.

"I want to know if you're okay first. Aaand... For some reason, I think you're inside the building I found this phone in, and I want to find you. Is that okay?"

She originally went to this building with her minivan full of high friends, a horrible idea for urban exploration but it went about as expected. Two of her friends got too scared to go inside, which only left her and another friend to go inside, but that other friend didn't want to go in with only two people.

All she could do at the time was walk in and snag something from the building quickly before she was forced to drive them all home. She didn't get to look around or anything, but did have the foresight to save the location for further exploration.

"You want to find me? Oh neighbor..." She heard another intake of breath, this time a little shakier than the first. There's a sound of... something... in the background. She heard it before during a previous call, the one where he begged her to answer, to let him in.

"...could you?" His words are slower now and much more spaced out.

"Well, I want to try. The phone is coming with me inside, okay?"

"...okay." At his response, she uncranked the dingy blue minivan and felt the heat shut off. Upon opening the door revealed the cool mountain air to her now goosebumped skin. Hissing at the cool air and throwing the door shut, she made her way towards the entrance of the building. Her red turtleneck and black long coat with the fuzzy hood only did so much against the cooling wind. Her cheeks flushed and her cyan bob fluttered in the breeze. Bangs flapping gently against her forehead.

"Are you inside yet?"

"Not yet, I just stepped out of my car. It's so cold outside. I'll be in soon."

"I wish I could be there with you already, neighbor."

"hopefully soon." She mumbles, opening the door into the darkness and stepping inside. Her skin settled down from the frigid breeze. She squeezed the larger phone part into her big internal jacket pocket and held the receiver. The spiraled cord dangled, but not low enough for her to trip. Her jacket was so big it hardly looked like anything made a dent.

Aside from the breeze, it was almost colder feeling inside, with an moist icky feeling left her skin. The air within the building was stagnant, and she could practically feel the mold coating her lungs. She could see her breath clearly when shining her cellphone flashlight around. The light hit a cabinet with a few frames photos behind glass that were kept slightly in better condition. Many were of people handling colorful puppets, while a few were people behind microphone's.

"I'm inside."

"Oh, that's good neighbor. What do you see?"

"It's very dark and cold, there's dust everywhere. Everything looks..." She clutches the red receiver and turns her head, looking around at the environment she's in. Previously when she first stepped in here, she would of said it looked like a dump.

It was full of mold damage and creepy vibes due to the decaying child-like projects in almost every corner. Faded colors of cartoon characters on standing up cardboard, and colorful yet mold infested carpets paired with white dirt-smudged walls gave air to an uncomfortable feeling. There was also an odd twisting feeling of nostalgia filling her gut when she noted that these were supposed to be puppet characters. All of these projects left to waste throughout the years were made with the purpose of entertainment, and it's almost devastating to see it all go like this.

"It looks very run-down, like it's been this way for years or something."

"Oh...It doesn't look like that inside of Home." He sounded a little downtrodden. But then he sounded hopeful.

"You do sound much clearer now, neighbor. Maybe you're getting closer?"

"I hope so. I'd hate to leave you all alone....wherever you are." He hummed in response, feeling thankful to this voice. A kind warmth filled his fluff stuffed body in a way he hadn't felt in so many years. Whomever was on the other line, he didn't want to stop hearing them speak. It soothed him from the constant silence and occasional rattle from Home he was forced to always listen to.

"What's your favorite color?" He asks as she walked into a room that extended into a long dark hallway. She's been urban exploring for years, so this isn't anything new to her. However the inclusion of the soft sounding voice in her ears made her shiver.

"A bright magenta I think?" She makes her way down the hall, black boots squeaking occasionally against the wooden floor. Posters of a childrens puppet show littering the walls. Her voice continues into another room where she finds herself entering through the back entrance of a stage. "The pink-ish red type of magenta. Not the more purply maroon-ish magenta, but that one's nice too."

His head was leaned into the side of the chair comfortably, the receiver flush between the plushness of his seat and his head. He had been so busy listening to their voice that he didn't respond until they returned the question.

"What about you?"

Her voice echoed along the pews now as she ventured down the stage.

"Me? Oh..." His head tilts up into the receiver. "I like red. It's one of my favorite colors to paint with."

"Red's nice." She smiles into the receiver. Her hand rested on her hip when she stopped near a pew that looked like it had something. She flashed her phone light at it. It looked to be an old opened coloring book with some characters on them. It looked like it was dunked in dirty water and set out to dry, yellowing over the years. Her eyes glanced around to see if there were crayons or anything similar in the immediate area. Seeing none, she picked up the book and tucked it into her other pocket.

"Whenever I've drawn, red has always been a nice color to work with. I rarely color in my drawings though."

A squeak of a chair could be heard, like he sat up suddenly and the phone nearly toppled over. "You like to draw too?"

She chuckled at that, hearing his surprised reaction to her simple hobbies was cute. His tone could only sound so amazed behind that monotonous tone. "A little bit."

"I have a question for you neighbor." She hummed an acknowledging tone that gestures him to continue.

"If you find me, could we draw together?" It felt like her soul took a hit.

She found his little voice so utterly adorable, it almost nauseated her. It was almost devastating when he originally started speaking to her. When she couldn't respond and was forced to listen as he begged to hear her voice, it felt like a cruel joke. Now that she knows he's an actual real deal person responding to her, it's sobering to think about how long he probably spent alone.

"I'd love to draw with you, Wally." Her breath hitched, and her voice cracked. Almost like she was about to cry, but she cleared her throat and bit her lip.

"That would be fun, drawing with my new friend..." He uttered before sucking in a breath and slumping his head slightly.

"Oh no, I never got your name. That's not very neighborly of me..."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw that her phone light unveiled another door. She lifted her phone light down this path and continued to walk forward. "That's alright, Wally. I don't think that's... uh, 'un-neighborly' or anything. I regularly forget to ask people's names."

"You do?" Her foot brushes across something on the floor and she went to look, but nothing is there.

"I do... um..." She shivers when she heard a low squeak. 'Well... it's an old building...' She tells herself, feeling slightly nervous in the darkness.

"I guess I get so caught up in the conversation with people, I forget to ask. I do know your name though, Wally." She spoke to him gently, keeping calm with a self soothing motion. Her arms clench inwards and she slowly rocks on her heels. The floor squeaked slightly underneath her boots. Her ear never leaves the receiver.

"You do... Could you please tell me your name? If that's okay?"

"It's more than okay." She said with an assured voice, feeling less nervous with his honest company. "My name is Bunny."

"Bunny?"

"Yup, like the animal. I'm not an animal though. Well.... I'm not a rabbit. But my name is Bunny, yes."

"Bunny..." He says the name like he's mystified, testing it in his mouth a little. Then smiles into the phone. "That's a nice name, neighbor!"

"Well, I'm glad you like it! I don't know what I'd do if you didn't like my name." Bunny giggled and squinted with mirth. "Maybe I'd cry."

"Awe, I'd never want you to cry neighbor. Never ever." He cooed back sweetly, softly shaking his head 'no' twice. Her giggles bit at his ears pleasantly.

She couldn't help bashfully tilting her head away from the receiver and biting back a squeal. Her voice, became hushed like she was telling him a spicy secret. "...you sound so cute. You know that?"

He laughs monotonously and chimes in cheekily. "Ha ha ha, I've been told..."

His smile is genuine when he says "You sound pretty cute yourself."

"Oh I don't know about that..."

"You do. I think so." She'd be kicking her feet in the air if she were lying down.

"You're so sweet, Wally. I think you've made my day."

"You did too, you've made my..." He trails off. She could sense his unease and went to change the subject.

"What do you look like, Wally?"

"You don't know?" He sounds surprised, well, as surprised as he was able. After all of that, everything he's been through, she doesn't even know what he looks like? He thought everyone knew what he looked like...

"Nope, I see some cardboard cutouts of characters here and there. I don't know which is supposed to be you." She was seeing less of them actually, they were more towards the front of the building.

"Silly neighbor, I'm not made out of cardboard."

"Well, I know that." She cuts him off. "I mean, which one is supposed to look like you."

"Oh, well. I have blue hair, my eyes are black..."

She hums in acknowledgement, hoping he'll continue.

"My shirt is blue, and I have a red necktie. Does that help?" He spins the cord between his plush, yellow fingers.

Bunny darts her eyes around until she spies something that looks the description. On a nearby wall alongside a cabinet of boxes and cloud-like fluff stuffed in places is a faded poster featuring a little yellow puppet that fit the description Wally detailed alongside a large blue dog puppet with spots. It's still mostly visible beyond the water damage and mold that coated the building. She could see his faded adorable smiling face and cute little pompadour. If she could, she'd reach out and squeeze his cheeks.

"Oh my gosh, That's you? You're so, soooo cute!" Her voice up-pitches by a few octaves, she almost squeaked.

"Ha ha ha." He caught himself laughing at this.

"Ha ha... Awe, Thank you, Bunny." He sounds joyous even through his monotone, happy to be able to guide his dear caller to a visual of himself. He was about to ask what they looked like, but then he heard a soft sniffle.

"I really hope I find you Wally." Her voice begins to wobble.

"Having spoken to you..." Her breathing began to hitch. "Now knowing what you look like..."

She chokes out the rest of her words.

"...I'm so scared if I can't. You're like an actual person with thoughts and feelings and stuff. I can't imagine you being left alone like this... I just can't. Not you..."

She sniffed and wiped her face, it felt hot and wet.

Wally responds to her sniffling. He clenches the receiver and his eyes widen with worry. "Oh neighbor, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you sad..."

"Don't." She croaks and he stills.

"i-it's not me who needs comforting. please dont feel like you need to." Her eyes close and she buries her face into her arm, quivering with tears now drooling down her face.

"...neighbor?" He asks quietly, wanting to do anything to make Bunny feel better but feeling completely useless as he listens on. If he could, he would reach through the phone and pet her, maybe lean against her as she cried. He'd offer to let her hold him and help dry her tears.

"I j-just need to find... find you..."

She's sobbing openly now as she speaks, not noticing her hand resting on a red box with a roof-like tint. It's window-like eyes uncurled and began to glow. It stared directly into hers eyes once she finally saw.

"huh?" Was the last thing she said before being completely surrounded by pitch black darkness.

The cellphone in her hand was gone, and all she had left was the receiver with a dangling cord. The rest of the phone in her pocket, as well as the weight of the coloring book vanished too. Her surroundings began to warp and shift slightly in the void, Occasional colors lighting up here and there, however this could be just the lack of light projecting false stimulation into her mind. She went to take another step but it sounded like an echo in a deep wet cave. It dripped dread into her very core.

"Hello?" She says, hearing more of the same echo.

Suddenly there's a large red house in front of her. Its oppressive eye's stared down at her while she mentally scrambled to try understanding what's going on. The infinite nothingness became deafening as an almost white-noise like sound slowly picked up in the background.

The corners of her own eyes began to fizzle with static as her mind buzzes and screams at her to do something. There's a far off sound thundering in the distance she's unfamiliar with, and then the sound of a door opening. It was reminiscent of a stock sound effect rather than an actual door opening.

She is now bathed in an almost heavenly yellow glow from the darkness, it shined on her like a spotlight. Her legs didn't even budge as her visuals shifted around her, inching her inside and closing the door behind her before she could even reach out to it.

"Hell...o?" She says again, unbelievably dazed. Her posture is still one of a scared woman reaching out before she readjusts and straights out. She stands there motionless, before seeing another lamp turn on and heard a gentle intake of air. The receiver drops from her hand at the sound of a familiar gentle voice, much clearer now than ever.

"Bunny?"

Her eyes dart to the sound and she spies a very short puppet man with yellow skin and a blue pompadour. Just as the cartoony posters depicted, but with more tired eyes and his hair is a little messy. He was staring at her with widely blown pupils and his mouth slightly agape. She could see his little, pink flap of a tongue peaking out. It plucked her heart strings just to see him.

"Wally...?"

He gaped at her for what felt like an hour, but was actually around 30 seconds before he slowly approached her. He saw that her eyes were a little swollen from crying and it tugged at him uncomfortably, still, he was more than amazed that she's actually here.

He closed his mouth, then shut his eyes before smiling widely at her and opening them again. His expression of shock seemingly melted away to one of warm, happy bliss.

"It's good to finally see you, neighbor."

Her fingers fidgeted and she's still looking at him, then to her own hands, stunned. They looked almost... drawn? Like she had stepped into a completely animated setting. Finally she spoke. "Well, I didn't expect this."

"Me neither, but you're here now!" He said merrily, then walked up closely to lean on her. The small man seemed to have little sense of personal space, she figured this when his chin came to a rest on her jacket clothed stomach and he stared up at her in wonder.

He had so many things he wanted to talk about, so many questions he needed another persons perspective on, and now that she's here with him... maybe things will begin to feel like they should. Maybe he will begin to feel that empty pit in his stuffing subside. Maybe Home will act normally again.

"I'm here now, yes... but something happened before I came here that I think I need to process."

"Oh..." His pupils shrunk slightly, causing her to quirk a brow at this. Is he like a cat or something? She knew there was a few animal based puppets from what she saw in the studio, but he didn't seem to look like one. That little trait was there, though.

"Well, you should have a lot of time to do that here."

She turns her head and peeked through the windows, finding only pitch black darkness. The same darkness she was stuck in earlier. The very blackness that made her feel so... vulnerable... exposed, but like a nerve. Like somebody stroking your eyeball with a clean, lubricated finger. Like a razor hovering above your pulsing jugular. She looks back to him and bashfully rubs the back of her neck, ignoring the way her hair stood on end.

"I guess I do." He hummed in response and held out a hand to her. She nearly had to lean in order to hold it, and it was a little awkward at first with his four fingers against her five. This interested him, she could tell when he poked at her pinkie with his other hand and hummed.

The fuzz of his palms tickled her slightly, so she pressed on the backs of them with her thumbs. This was just meant to test the plushness of his hands, she didn't realize she could practically feel straight through him if she pressed hard enough. Wally didn't seem too phased by this and squeezed her hand in response.

"Here neighbor, let me show you around. Then we could do other things, if you'd like."

He began to pull her towards a room with a large couch sat in front of a vintage television. The room, much like the previous one is full of primary colors. Several books line the bright red bookcase, all spine out revealing titles that sound like bedtime stories. One of them had a picture of an insect similar to a ladybug, but it was far too cartoony to tell. There's one comfy red chair adorned with colorful arms and a blue spotted patch on the back.

'This really was a puppet show...' She thought as he ushers her into a very obvious living room.

"This is the living room."

"Mhm, very nice."

"There are many things we could do in here, but the TV no longer works. You'll only get fuzziness from it."

"Honestly I wouldn't really expect it to–"

He cuts her off, continuing on where his last point was "–Sort of like me. Ah, I'm sorry neighbor. I didn't mean to interrupt."

"No no it's alright, it happens to all of us." Plus she wasn't exactly expecting him to be perfect at socializing, seeing as he's been here for seemingly a long time if the state of the abandoned studio were to say anything about that. She didn't want to ask how long, but she was curious about something.

"So...um, Wally."

"Yes?" He responds politely, like a good boy turning to face her.

"....." She opened her mouth to ask a question before catching it on her tongue and closing it. No... asking if he eats may be a bit strange, so would asking if he still thinks his friend's could contact him. There are a lot of questions she could ask, but many would cause the panic to start. She was also a little curious about the house they both now currently reside in, but the shock of the implied permanence was still setting in and she wasn't about to open that can of emotions. Not yet anyway.

"Nevermind, sorry. I forgot."

"That's alright, Bunny. Let me know when you remember, okay?"

"Okay."

"Now, we can go to the bedroom. There are some things we can do in there too, aside from sleeping."

A small blush rose to her cheeks at the hidden implications swimming in her silly brain. He wouldn't know about something like that... would he? No... but it made her feel like a 10 year old learning about blue footed boobies, so she ignored the thought and smiled as he guided her through a hallway with a few simplistic paintings complimenting the walls. The sleeve to his blue cardigan gently brushes over her fingers.

Two pictures featured himself and that blue dog character she saw earlier. Another painting had other neighbors she saw whilst in the studio, and a fourth was of an apple. Cute and simple.

"I take it that you painted these?"

"That's right, I did. Do you like them?" He slows down and peers upwards at the walls of Home, then directly into her eyes. Their interlocked hands swayed ever so gently.

"Mhm, they're very nice."

His smile brightens. "Awe, thank you neighbor. Oh, um. Also, our room is in here."

He taps on the nearest door to himself to indicate to her where it was and turned the knob. Her brows shot up when his back faced her.

'Our room?' She thought with a flutter in her chest and allowed Wally to loosely tug her along into the room with him.

First, she saw red walls and matching carpet. One of the walls had been adorned with groovy looking pale, leaf-like designs. This particular wall hid slightly behind a large bed with a purple blanket draped neatly on top. A beige, bulbus lamp with a white shade sat on top a dark purple-ish maroon wooden nightstand that matched the beds headboard.

She shivered nervously when Home's eye locked onto her from the window adjacent to the bed. It's uncomfortably close, the house might as well watch them sleep.

'...Oh god, that's what's gonna happen isn't it?' She mulled over nervously.

"Do you have a side of the bed you prefer?" Bunny shook her head.

"Do you?"

"No."

They both lock eyes at each other for a moment, waiting for the other to add something. Anything. Even a quip.

Bunny for a moment felt the prickling threat of regret crawl up the back of her neck. She is the first to speak and Wally's pupils dilate as if he was tuning into her. "Uhm..."

She waffled for a moment, debating with herself before saying what she wanted to say. "I'm sorry, I'm not... the most talkative person."

"oh? That's alright, neighbor. But... I don't know why you're apologizing for that."

"I...uh" She broke eye contact first and looked anywhere else but him. "I don't know why either. Sorry."

The floor below her feet rumbled gently and the drapes wriggled. Wally's eyes caught this and his neutral smile widened. "Well it's okay neighbor, Home says he feels comfortable talking to you now."

She put on a gentle smile and patted a nearby wall, as if to pet the house. Not knowing what to say, she muttered "Well, that's good I guess." in response. Home squeaked the bedroom door back and forth, as if to respond positivity to her touch.

'His house think I was dangerous?'

Wally simply nods and allows her to wander around the room, with him following her now. As she rounded the corner of the bed, she spied a wardrobe at the front and just remembered something a little crucial. "Oh right, Uhh... Wally?"

"Yes?"

The front of her boot digs into the floor casually, she glances down her own apparel. "I don't have any pajamas." She says, then unzips the front of her jacket to reveal her waders.

"...and my boots are part of my pants so... uh..."

"Ooh, I think I've seen Frank wear something like that before." His eyes rake over her waterproof overalls with interest.

"I do have some extra clothes from a few previous sleepovers, would those help?" She nodded and he turned towards the wardrobe. 'Frank...' Her mind lingers on the name for a moment. 'Where did his friends go?'

It had two drawers below the large doors, she presumed he kept his cardigans and shirts in the top portion. She watched on as his lemon tinted fingers curl around the nob without opening it. From his height, he barely had to bend. "You can find them in here."

[dreamingofaizawa]

Good Kitty

Shouta Aizawa x Chubby! Kitty Hybrid! Fem! Reader

***18+ Fic***

If you are under the age of 18, leave. Thank you.

Warnings: Kitty hybrid reader, smut, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink (?), reader has insecurities, Shouta is soft and lowkey feral?, chubby kink (sorta), reader has a heat for the first time, barely implied virginity loss, a touch of dacryphilia

Word Count: 2.4 k

Author’s Note: This is inspired by @cupcake-rogue ’s fic Not Allowed on the Bed. I got permission to use it as inspo so here we are! Tbh the orignal had me feeling all sorts of feelings because, as a very subby sub that loves to please, I definitely have a praise kink and I WILL CRY if I’m called a bad girl. HOWEVER, Katsuki being the rough-around-the-edges guy he is wanting reader regardless of size made me very happy and warm and fuzzy. 

The premise with this is pretty much the same, except I made reader a kitty hybrid...and of course I wrote for Shouta, love of my life he is. I’m such a fucking simp. I’m not the biggest fan of the ending, but this has been sitting in my WIPs for too damn long and it’s decent enough for me to feel ok posting it.

Also, for reference, reader has black fur regardless of hair color. Reader could be blonde, but still have black ears and tail. That’s just the way I’ve chosen to write this for some reason, don’t ask me why, I’m weird like that. 

I think this is the first time I’ve written for a hybrid, so cut me a little slack.

Anywho, enjoy~

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You can’t remember life outside the shelter. You’d grown up here, the caretakers said they’d found you on the street as a nearly newborn kitten and immediately scooped you up and brought you back here. That was a long time ago. Now you sit, waiting, your hopes for getting adopted diminishing with every passing day.

It’s unfortunate, but you still haven’t been adopted. It’s not that you’re bad, you always behave, you make sure you do. But you’ve overheard time and time again the people that gazed down at you and whispered about how you were too chunky, too big and too squishy for a kitty hybrid. And some even called you bad luck. The pitch black fur on your ears and tail warded off many.

Today was just the same as any other day. Wake up, get fed, wait in your room while potential owners pick and choose not you. Adults and children alike would take chunks out of their time to play with you, but they all left the shelter with another smaller cat. It was nearing bed time now, dinner just finished and the caretakers were about to start closing when the little bell on the front door jingled. Someone had just come in. You ignored it all the same.

Two pairs of footsteps began making their way past rooms, whoever it was that had entered smelled good, like coffee and tree bark. A smooth hum accompanied the caretaker’s voice, it made your ears twitch and tail sway gently. Still, you decided to just curl up in bed and try to sleep. The chance of him adopting you was slim, if it existed at all.

As you lay there your ears pick up their footsteps, the lazy set that dragged familiar, the nearly silent set less so. You listened as they came closer, never stopping as the man strode past each room and peered in the windows. You waited for them to pass right by your room, as they had been, but suddenly the footsteps halted. The caretaker spoke first.

“Y/n? You awake?” You let your eyes flutter open and sat up, tucking your legs under you and sitting up straight. They asked the man if he wanted to go in and see you, and he gave a simple nod. When he entered you finally looked up at him. The first thing you noticed were his eyes, tired and bloodshot with dark circles beneath them, a deep scar curved under his right eye. His long black hair fell around his shoulders, swaying lightly with every measured step he took toward you.

He stopped right in front of you, a large hand stretching out and you give it a small sniff before nudging your head into it, letting him pet your hair and scratch at the base of your ears. It felt nice to be getting attention like this. A small purr sounded in your chest, your tail gently swishing behind you.

“How long have you been here?” His voice is deep and calm, tired even, but it sounds so welcoming. It’s so soothing to your sensitive ears, like a warm blanket. You give a small hum before answering.

“A long time. I don’t remember anything outside this place.” At that he raised an eyebrow, turning to the caretaker with a questioning look.

“Most people look for...specific traits in the cat hybrids. Y/n here is well behaved, a perfect house kitty really,” you purred a bit at the praise, “But she’s a little larger than most. And her black fur wards off the more superstitious.” The man gives a curious hum before looking back down at you.

“Do you want to come home with me, kitty?” The question caught you a little off guard. Nobody really asked the hybrids if they wanted to go with them. You looked over to the caretaker, who nodded their head with a gentle smile, encouraging you to answer. All you could do was give a small nod, and soon you were in the car, on the way to your new home.

He’d told you to call him Shouta. He was nice, always quiet and never got mad. He never smiled, but you supposed that’s just the way he is. He gave you your own room, and always let you rub up on him when you wanted to, taking the opportunity to pet you. Occasionally you got the odd kiss on the forehead when you nuzzled into his neck. Those always made you purr. He never came seeking you out, which was good since there were times you really didn’t want to be touched. 

The longer you’re with him the closer you get, and you find yourself doing things you’d never thought to do before. Sometimes you found the floor more comfortable than the couch, and would kneel down and rub up on his leg, your tail wrapping around his ankle. There were times you’d see his fingers idly drumming on his lap, and you’d lay down and nibble on one with your little fang-like canines. He didn’t seem to mind that little oral fixation, and he always let you do whatever you wanted. All in all, life with Shouta is great.

But today you feel weird. You’d been cooped up in your room for the first hour or so of the weekend morning, not quite wanting to go out and make it known something was off. But it’s gotten abnormally hot, your face and chest especially warm, and between your legs as well. Your panties are beginning to feel damp, your thighs starting to feel humid and sticky. It’s a little uncomfortable. And your tummy is starting to boil, neediness beginning to cloud your mind. This never happened at the shelter.

Reluctantly, you step out of bed onto slightly wobbly legs and peek your head out of your door to see him sitting on the couch, a book in hand and a mug of coffee on the table. His hair is loose, his strong lean body relaxed as he read. The sight of him and his scent made the feeling worse, made your panties and thighs wetter, your chest beginning to heave with your panted breaths. 

“Sh-shouta…” Your voice came out shakier and quieter than you wanted it to, but he’d heard you regardless. He closed the book and peered over at your shaking form in the doorway.

“What is it kitty?” You nearly mewled at his voice, his heavenly smooth baritone sending a shiver down your spine through to the tip of your tail.

“Something’s wrong...I feel weird…” As you tell him about everything that’s happening to your body, he’s dragging his eyes over you, taking in every detail. Soon he’s on the phone with the doctor, you can’t quite comprehend his words, only catching snippets. ‘Help’ and ‘how long’, followed by agreeing hums. It was all jumbled after that, your mind refusing to focus as you leaned heavily on the doorframe, your quivering legs barely able to hold your body.

Shouta’s large hand came up and cupped your cheek, letting you nuzzle into his palm. When had he hung up the phone? He ordered you to sit on the bed, and you obliged, watching as he swept up his hair into a loose bun and strode over, tilting your chin to look up at him through half-lidded eyes. He’s so close, his scent overwhelming and making your brain fuzzy.

“You’re in heat, kitty.” Heat...where had you heard that before? Back at the shelter, maybe? It was all a distant, unfocused memory right now. Shouta leaned down and kissed you sweetly, lips melding with yours as you purred and mewled, your tail thrashing behind you. His hands tugged at your clothes until you were bare before him, every inch of you on display. 

“You’re such a pretty kitty, you know that? So beautiful. Lay down for me.” The praise made you purr, made a chill crawl up your spine and your tail flick wildly. You obeyed the command, laying flat in the middle of the bed and he slotted himself between your legs, plunging two fingers into your tight hole. He let out a groan, pumping and scicssoring his fingers to stretch you out. You were already a sloppy mess, loud squelches ringing through the room in between your loud, whiny mewls and panting. 

It felt so good, the heat in your belly burning and tightening until Shouta’s fingers curled up into a spot that made stars dance in your vision. The pressure in your belly snapped hard, your legs trembling as he kept fingering you through it. His fingers slowed when you whined about it being too much, too sensitive. But you still felt hot all over, now it was worse, you wanted something so bad but you didn’t know what.

He got up and undressed himself and you licked your lips at his naked body, scarred skin pulled taut over thick muscle. What stood between his legs had heat spreading like fire through your body. You’d never seen a naked man before. He was quick to return to you, slotting his hips between your thighs and guiding the thick head of his cock along your soaked folds. 

“Relax kitty. I’m gonna make you feel good.” You gave a small nod and then he was pushing his thick cock inside you, groaning at the way your pussy clamped down on him. Your tongue lolled out of your mouth as he slowly pushed and pumped his hips, cock dragging along your wet warm walls perfectly. Mewls slipped past your lips, high pitched whines and pants like music in Shouta’s ears. 

His hands wandered over your body, squishing and pulling at every piece of you he could get his calloused fingers on. It made you squirm beneath him, your own hands trying to push his away, but he wasn’t having any of it. He grabbed both your wrists and pinned them above your head in one strong hand, then went right back to groping your body with his free one.

“I can’t have you stopping me from touching you, kitty.” That’s all he said before focusing back on your body. He tugged at your belly, your sides, every place that was fatty and squishy. He’d never admit out loud how much he loved how soft you are. You’re perfect, plump and meaty, just more for him to touch, to look at, more to squeeze and pinch and pull.

He groaned out as you whined beneath him, tears beginning to clump in your lashes because he just kept squeezing, and he isn’t fucking you hard enough. Your orgasm built slowly with his languid pace, not nearly enough to get you to that peak and you were frustrated because you wanted relief but it wouldn’t come. Shouta picks up on your hips jerking and rolling, trying to get him to fucking move faster. He pulled his hips back and slammed back in, setting a brutal pace and making you whine high and long. 

Tears begin to fall from the sheer ecstasy of it, and he’s realizing how much he loves to see you cry from the pleasure he can give you. With a groan, he’s releasing your hands and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face into your breasts and biting and sucking at your skin as he pounds you into the mattress. He isn’t normally an impulsive man, wouldn’t let himself let go like this. But for you. For you he’d give in to his lust and ravage you like you need him to.

Your orgasm slams over your body like a tsunami, your muscles locking up and a loud yip ringing from your throat, pleasure making your whole body shake. Shouta let out a hiss, your nails digging into the muscles in his back furiously, but he wouldn’t stop for that. He never stuttered in his pace, just kept ramming his hips into yours, heavy balls slapping against your ass and lewd squelches coming from where your bodies are connected. 

You’re overstimulated, throat feeling raw and tears still falling down your heated cheeks as you thrash from another orgasm, this one just as powerful as the last and making your vision spot black. This time Shouta leans back, wrapping a hand around your throat and licking the salty trails away.

“Such a good little kitty for me, so good.” With a few more thrusts he’s spilling inside you, and you can feel the warmth spread in your belly as you lay there, boneless. He lays down on top of you, both of you sweaty and tired and he starts whispering sweet words into your twitching ears.

“So pretty. You’re so pretty, kitten.” 

“Such a good girl for me.”

“You’re all mine, kitty. So good, all for me.” Tears begin to spill from your eyes for a different reason. Up until now you’d lived your life believing nobody wanted you because there was something wrong with you. You never felt ugly, never really felt like there was something truly wrong with you, but you always felt...unwanted. Unloved. Unlovable. 

But Shouta makes you feel wanted, and loved, and pretty and all the things you always assumed you didn’t deserve. You’re his kitty now, and you’re such a good kitty for him too. He’s showering you with affection that you’d never known before and you’re shaking from all the overwhelming emotions. He can feel your body quivering, leans back to look at you and cups your face in his warm palm.

“What’s wrong, kitten? Why are you crying?” Your nose twitches as you sniffle, which he mildly notes is fucking adorable.

“Do you mean it? Am I a good kitty?” His eyebrows furrow and he rolls the both of you over so you’re on top of him. He’s peering into your big sad eyes as if reading your soul through them, trying to read the emotions you’re feeling, but it isn’t hard for him to figure out what’s racing through your mind. You nuzzle your nose into his neck and breathe in his scent, his hand coming up to pet your hair and ears.

“Of course, kitten. You’re such a good kitty.” The small reassurance makes you feel warm and happy, your tail flicking softly before curling around both your leg and Shouta’s, the end brushing his skin gently. You can’t help but want to stay with Shouta forever.

[cinnaminsvga]

Undercover (M)

→ summary: the company banquets that your family loves to host are often drearier than you would like them to be. lucky for you, your bodyguards have the perfect solution: why don’t you play a little game with them? 

the only rule? you must keep quiet at all costs.

→ pairing: vamp!jungkook x reader x siren!seokjin → genre: bodyguard!au, supernatural, smut → warnings: dom!jin, switch!kook, sub!reader, remote vibrator, rough public sex, fingering, orgasm denial, multiple orgasms, blood-drinking, hypnotization, jin is kinda sadistic, basically pwp ;_; → words: 5.4K → a/n: this is for the holiday fic exchange that was held on @btsghostiewritersnet!! my fic is dedicated to ms @jincherie​ (aka the loml and also the recipient of 1/3 of the fics i’ve written this year??) who requested this prompt. i’m not really good with poly or smut fics, but i tried my best??? it ended up being a lil more jk centric than i anticipated but HHHH IDK I JUST HOPE YOU LIKE THIS EVEN A TEENY BIT ;o; anyway... happy holidays everyone!!

You can feel their eyes on you.

Except that isn’t much of a revelation—they are always watchful of you, after all. Your father pays a hefty enough salary that they would risk their lives to keep you safe, so it isn’t much of a surprise to know that they are lurking at the sides, keeping distant and close all at once.

This time, however, is different. You know for a fact that it is different. There is a subtle shift in the air, something tangible enough that you can almost touch it, taste it. You know that if you glance back at them, you will find two pairs of eyes, watching and waiting for… something.

That fact alone is enough to keep the goosebumps on your arms from subsiding. You feel like a canister just waiting to burst, a small disturbance enough to get you to erupt into flames and burn every last inch of propriety left in your being. Tonight, they are here to ruin you.

“Why are you acting so damn fidgety? Stand still,” your brother huffs after a while, pinching you lightly in the side. It breaks you from your reverie, causing you to jolt away with wide eyes.

“W-what?” you ask breathlessly. You wipe your clammy hands across your expensive dress, leaving wrinkles in their wake. “Sorry. I just… had a lot of coffee before coming here, is all. I needed the wake-me-up.”

He watches you for a moment, raising an eyebrow at your odd behavior. You can tell that he’s suspicious, but he inevitably shrugs it off, too unbothered to care. Like you, it takes a whole deal to get Yoongi excited about anything, and having a jumpy sister is far from reaching his quota. “Whatever. Just don’t cause a scene, alright? These events might be boring as hell, but dad has a bunch of important people here tonight, so you better get your shit together.”

You snort. “Right. Like when does he not invite important people to these parties?”

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean. Just behave, alright? I’m not covering for you if you piss someone off.”

“Wouldn’t have dreamed of asking,” you mutter. Little does he know, you are already planning on behaving tonight, anyway. That is the name of the game, after all.

On a makeshift stage at the head of the ballroom, your father has just finished giving his opening remarks, thanking all his esteemed guests for making it to tonight’s banquet. Polite applause follows soon after, the clamor loud enough to mask the way you inhale sharply in surprise. Your back straightens imperceptibly, your body going rigid as if you had been struck by lightning. To your left, your brother is none the wiser to your panic, his attention glued to his phone.

When the clapping breaks, you nearly speak your prayers aloud when the ambush on your senses suddenly stops as well. You take one, two calming breaths, your core throbbing needily as you await the second wave to hit. Disappointed when nothing comes, you smooth your dress down, fighting the urge to look around to see if anyone was watching.

Legs slightly weaker and breath a little shakier, you walk among the throngs of people as they make their way to their seats, getting ready for dinner to be served. Instead of heading to where your family’s table would be located, you change direction halfway and walk towards the back. Yoongi does not comment, just nodding back at you and going the other way as well. This is normal etiquette for both of you, anyway—your father has always expected the two of you to wander during these parties, greeting guests and socializing with them as proper hosts should.

Except that isn’t on your agenda for tonight. Right now, you have a game to play, and you don’t intend on losing your focus to anything else.

It does not take you long to find who you are looking for. Just like he promised, Jungkook is standing close to the east entrance, standing stock still against the wall in his designer black suit. When he notices you approach, his stern demeanor softens, a small smile gracing his Adonis-like features. It is nothing more than a quirk of his lips, but it is enough for a flash of something sharp to catch your eye. It disappears before you can even blink, but you know that what you had seen is far from a figment of your imagination.

To an outsider, Jungkook looks as intimidating as any regular bodyguard should be: tall and muscular, coupled with a dangerous gaze that could pierce diamond. He certainly works like one too, as your father would have never hired him if he wasn’t 100% sure that Jungkook was up to his lofty standards.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out that there is something else that sets Jungkook apart if you just looked close enough. Even from a few feet apart, you can see the redness lining his irises, the deathly pallor of his skin, the sallowness of his cheeks. As you get closer, you notice other things too, like how his hands tremble against his sides and how his breathing has gotten shallow.

Everything about him screams vampire—a starving one, at that.

“How long has it been now?” you murmur, gently nudging your shoulder against his. You keep close to him, feeling yourself relax at the mere scent of him. Jungkook always somehow manages to smell good; you suppose that’s a given since you don’t think he’s even capable of sweating.

“Since the party started?” he asks.

“No, silly. How long has it been since you last fed?”

“Three days, seventeen hours, and twenty-one minutes, ma’am. But who’s counting?” he wheezes, offering you a strained smile. “Is it that obvious?”

“Not really, but I know you,” you reply. A little too well, in fact. “Seokjin hasn’t even allowed you a snack? Even once?”

Jungkook coughs out a laugh, amused. “You and I both know that hyung wouldn’t be that merciful. He did say that if I behave today, then maybe…” he trails off. You don’t miss the way he stares longingly at you, thinly veiled desire rolling off him in waves.

You feel the blood rushing up to your face, turning away from him in embarrassment. You have to remind yourself not to rub your neck, lest the make-up covering your fading scar give away your dirty little secret. “I’m sorry, by the way. I kind of did this to both of us, huh?”

Jungkook chuckles, snaking an arm around your waist. You shoot him a warning glare, but you both know he only dares to get comfortable with you when he’s sure no one is watching. Besides, it’s always been hard for you to get mad at the boy, not when he has always been so sweet with you.

“No, it’s fine. We all agreed to this when you proposed it. Besides, neither hyung nor I are going to risk our health when your safety is on the line. It’s not that bad, I promise.”

“If you’re sure,” you say, glancing at him doubtfully. You have never seen Jungkook quite so… unhinged before, as if he’s just a step away from teetering off the edge. It scares you just as much as it arouses you, but you make sure to keep that to yourself. “I honestly didn’t think Seokjin would be this ruthless.”

Jungkook snorts. “I’ve known him for a long time, Y/N. Trust me when I say that he is definitely going easy on us, especially you.”

“If this is easy, I’m afraid to know how he’s like when he goes all out then,” you say, but the thought of Seokjin becoming even more merciless than usual sends an excited shiver down your spine.

“How about you?” Jungkook asks. “Are you doing okay with the, um, you know?” He flushes, still shy to even say it aloud even after all the things the two of you have done together.

You giggle, unable to resist the urge to tease him. “You tell me, Koo. You can smell me, can’t you?” You lean closer, looking at him through your lashes. “You could probably smell from across the ballroom, especially with how hungry you are… My poor baby,” you coo. You have your chest pressed against his, your low neckline leaving nothing to the imagination. And yet, his gaze is fixed elsewhere, red eyes following the way your tongue darts out to lick your lips.

It’s a rhetorical question; you know he can smell you. The remote vibrator in your underwear has been on the lowest setting ever since the night started. The vibrations are persistent enough to keep you constantly aroused, but it’s never enough to give you what you really want.

And just when you think you’ve gotten used to the sensation, Seokjin will spike it up occasionally, causing your composure to crack ever so slightly. You’re pretty sure he hasn’t turned it on to the highest setting yet, but judging from how the dampness of your underwear has seeped past your thighs, you aren’t sure if you’d be able to keep your cool if he did.

“Do I smell good, Koo? I know you said my blood tastes sweetest when I’m like this, right?” you whisper, trailing a finger down his chest. He does not reply, his nostrils flaring as he struggles to control his breathing. He has a dangerous edge in his expression, a simmering darkness just begging to be released. It’s the kind of lust that sweet and lovely Jungkook hardly ever has the capability of showcasing, except during moments like these, when he is at his hungriest and most desperate.

“I’m not going to lose the game this early on,” he says, voice quiet. There is danger in still waters, you recall your mother telling you when you were younger, and you find that there is truth behind her words after all. Jungkook may sound calm, but the edge in his tone is laced with meaning.

“No fun,” you laugh.

As if on cue, your own dose of karma hits you when Seokjin decides to turn the vibrator up to its maximum setting. “Shit,” you gasp, barely holding back your moans. You nearly double over, mostly from shock, not expecting the intensity of the vibrations. You feel your legs turn to jelly, your body heating up and breaking out into a sweat. You have to lean against Jungkook for support, your grip on his biceps so tight that you’re afraid that you might have torn through the fabric. If he had been human, you might have worried that you were hurting him.

Jungkook stumbles slightly against your weight, surprising the both of you as he’s normally as sturdy as a brick wall. Your worry for Jungkook supersedes the lust addling your brain long enough to wonder if his blood fast is starting to affect him.

“S-sorry, Koo. Are you okay? Are you getting dizzy from hunger?” you ask, your words stilted and breathy as you try to ignore the pleasure coursing through your veins. “We can go somewhere and—fuckfuckfuck—”

You are unable to finish your sentence, having to muffle your moans by biting into his shoulder. You’re shaking and panting, the relentless assault on your clit causing a fresh wave of arousal to drip down your cunt and ruin your panties even further. The coil inside of you is close to snapping, your long-awaited climax just inches away. You have half a mind to reach under your dress and chase after your high, but the sensible part of you reminds you that you are still at a public event—your father’s public event, to be exact. So instead, you wrap your arms around Jungkook to restrain yourself, looking to all the world as if you were just two lovers in an embrace.

Just as you’re about to finish, the vibrator shuts off completely, snatching away any hopes of you coming. You want to scream in frustration, a few tears threatening to fall as you squeeze your eyes tightly. Eventually, you release your death grip on Jungkook, keeping your head bowed to hide the way you’re still short for breath. When you feel less hazy, you take a shaky step away from him while muttering apologies to Jungkook.

“S-sorry about that. So much for Seokjin going easy on me, huh? I really didn’t expect him to pull a fast one on me like that—”

When Jungkook doesn’t respond, you turn back to face him. “O-oh,” you whisper lamely, your blood heating up when your gaze meets his. “Jungkook?” you call out, though you don’t think he’ll be up for much conversation right now.

You have never quite seen him like this before. His eyes have started glowing red, so much so that there’s barely a sliver of white remaining. His fangs have extended far past what should have been humanly possible, its sharp tips puncturing his bottom lip. He doesn’t even appear to be moving, not even showing any signs that he might have been breathing at all.

“Jungkook,” you repeat. You tug on his sleeve hesitantly, but he stands as still as a statue. “Jungkook, get a hold of yourself!” It takes you a few moments of coaxing and shaking before some semblance of lucidity returns to him.

He blinks a few times, but his incisors have yet to retract. “Sorry,” he grunts, bringing a hand up to his face. He rubs at his eyes, and when he reopens them, they’ve stopped glowing. His irises are still a deep shade of red. “Sorry, I didn’t think I’d lose myself there. That’s never happened before.”

“You were kinda scary there for a second,” you laugh nervously. “Almost like you were going to eat me alive.”

“I honestly might have,” Jungkook admits. “If Seokjin hadn’t stopped you from coming right then, I might have just fed from you right in the open.”

You shiver. You kind of hate yourself for liking the sound of that, even if it was hypothetical. Your bodyguards wouldn’t risk your reputation like that. For a moment, it almost could have been real though, your mind unhelpfully supplies.

“You would’ve lost the game then,” you say instead.

Jungkook chuckles weakly, shaking his head. “You, Seokjin, and I already knew from the start that if anyone was going to lose, it was always going to be me.”

“Conceding defeat, then?” you ask. You press your thighs together in anticipation, catching the way he watches your movements like a predator awaiting its prey. “Is anyone watching us?”

With your back facing the party, you would never have known if anyone was close enough to hear your strangled moans back then. Ever the attentive bodyguard despite hunger and lust clouding his mind, Jungkook had still made sure that the two of you were far away enough from prying eyes. Well, with the exception of one.

“He was watching us,” Jungkook mumbles. You don’t turn to look when he points somewhere behind you. “He’s by the northwest entrance. He was watching us the whole time, but now he’s talking to your brother’s bodyguard.”

“How much do you wanna bet he won’t notice us sneaking out?” you ask, giggling when Jungkook gives you an incredulous look. “What? Didn’t you once say you could sneak me out of anywhere without my father knowing?”

“Your father and Kim Seokjin are two different people in two different leagues,” he points out. He glances at Seokjin once more, rubbing his neck nervously. “Oh, he’s definitely going to figure out what we’re doing the moment we get out of here.”

You shrug, already tugging him by the hand towards the restroom outside the ballroom. You wink at him, your giggles full of mischief. “Then it’s settled. We lose this game, and then we start another one.”

“Another one?” Jungkook echoes, following you like a dutiful pet. When you exit the ballroom, you find the reception area empty save for a few other security guards loitering by the elevators, surreptitiously on their phones. You easily make it past them and head to where the restrooms are, setting your sights on the polished wooden doors.

You push Jungkook inside the women’s restroom, locking the door once you both are settled inside. Turning to face him with an eager grin, you almost let out a laugh at the overenthusiastic gleam in his eyes. “New game plan. I call this one the ‘let’s see if we can get off before Seokjin catches us’ game.”

“Sounds thrilling,” Jungkook chuckles, but he’s already opening his arms when you walk over to him. You accept his embrace, pressing him against the marble sinks and slotting your lips together.

The kiss is fiery, all teeth and no finesse. He has one hand grabbing fistfuls of your ass and the other cupping your jaw as he holds you in place. Your own hands almost seem like they don’t know what to do, scrambling up and down his sides before finally locking around his neck as your mind goes blank.

Jungkook’s incisors cut your lips accidentally, causing droplets of blood to trickle down. They don’t even make it past your chin before Jungkook’s voracious tongue is already lapping it up, his groans echoing in the vastly large room.

You barely register the pain before Jungkook is offering another distraction in the form of his lips trailing down to your jaw until he reaches your neck, his breath leaving goosebumps across your skin. “Y/N,” he rasps, his fangs dizzyingly close.

Before he can choose to do anything, you trail a finger to his chin, forcing him to look at you. His eyes appear glazed over, almost as if he isn’t even fully cognizant of his surroundings. But when he catches sight of the way a fresh droplet of blood is already beginning to take form on your lips, his gaze hardens immediately.

You smirk, giggling when he groans at you licking up your bloodied lip. “No marks on my neck, baby. You’re gonna have to drink from down there.”

In any other scenario, you might have been concerned at how quickly he drops to his knees. He doesn’t look too bothered, however, as he bunches up your dress to your chest and tears your pathetic excuse for underwear into shreds. The small purple vibrator falls to the ground along with it, neither of you worried about where it is rolling away.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he groans, burying his nose into your cunt. You yelp loudly, sensitive after hours of edging. You unconsciously try to trap him with your thighs, but he holds them apart with an iron grip. From your vantage point, you can only see his eyelashes grazing your stomach as he licks two long stripes across your slit, nearly causing you to fall over had he not been holding you.

“Shit.” He leans back to look at you properly, his mouth shiny with your slick. “Can I? Can I please?”

You don’t even know what exactly it is that he’s asking, but you’re already nodding anyway, eager for him to do something, anything. “Yes, yes, yes. C’mon, Koo. Give it to me,” you whine. Your voice sounds hoarse to your ears, desperate and delirious.

Not one to disobey, Jungkook does exactly that. One moment he is on the floor and the next he is lifting you with ease, placing you on the marble counter and standing between your legs to keep them spread. He returns to kneeling and hooks your legs onto his shoulders. He caresses your thighs with a gentleness that seems out of place, craning his neck sideways so he can plant a chaste kiss on your inner thigh.

You whimper impatiently, nudging him with your knee. “Jungkook, this is sweet and all, but my pussy has been aching to be stuffed for hours now so I’d really appreciate it if we can just get on with the pro-o-g-gram—” you stammer, your verbal skills forgotten the moment his thumb brushes your clit. Your body jerks on instinct, his delicate touch like lightning on your skin. “Ah, fuck! Jungkook, please!”

You have your head thrown back, unable to keep still when he proceeds to push a finger into you without warning. He pumps into you slowly, the drag of his fingertips torturously slow as you incoherently beg for more.

“More? You fucking asked for it,” he grunts, adding a second finger and being rewarded with another chorus of moans from you. He fucks his fingers into you like a drill, the obscene squelch of your sopping cunt coupled with the sound of palm hitting against your clit is like music to his ears. He can sense the way your blood is rushing through you right now, pleasure thrumming through your limbs and making you intoxicatingly sweet.

“I can’t wait to taste you, darling,” he says, licking his lips in anticipation. “You must love this, don’t you? Love it when I finger you like this, even though you know hyung is going to catch us and punish us for this?”

You nod fervently, incoherent babbles dribbling from your open mouth. “W-want both of you! Want S-Seokjin to catch us and make us cry.” You gasp, your stomach clenching when he curls his fingers in just the right way to make your toes curl in pleasure. “Koo, I’m a-almost there!”

Your pussy, despite hours of being constantly aroused, still feels like a vice grip, selfishly sucking him back. He relishes your moans, drawing more sounds out of you that you had not known you were capable of producing. There is no time or space for shame as your whines grow higher in pitch, calling out his name when you sense your orgasm approach.

Jungkook feels feverish when he finally takes a bite from your skin, your blood made sweeter when you climaxed from his fingers alone. The meat of your thigh gushes crimson like a fountain upon his desert-like tongue. He is drunk on you; not even nectar can be sweeter than you.

He drinks for what feels like hours, lapping at your wound until he cannot stomach another drop. A blatant lie, of course, but he also does not wish to drink you dry. So with a heavy heart, he pulls away, leaving one last lick up your thigh to stop the bleeding. He slumps back on his knees, his head lolling drowsily as he looks at you with a satisfied smile.

You are in no better condition, your chest heaving as you struggle to regain your sanity after both the mind-blowing orgasm and blood loss. Still, you smirk sleepily back at him, your eyebrow raised as if in question.

“What?” Jungkook drawls.

Instead of a verbal response, you point at his crotch with your feet. When he looks down, his dick is completely hard, his erection straining against his slacks. He was so deeply engrossed in the flavor of you that he had not even stopped to consider his own arousal, but now that it has been so kindly pointed out by you, the need to be inside of you consumes him like a fire burning him on a stake.

A guttural sound escapes his throat, a renewed fervor pushing him to climb to his feet in an instant. Impatient, he struggles for a moment to loosen his belt, has half a mind to just tear his pants in two when—

“Jeon Jungkook, can you hear me?”

Jungkook stiffens. Unable to hear the voice coming from his earpiece, you give Jungkook a quizzical look, wondering why he’d suddenly stopped in his tracks. “Koo? What’s the matter?” you ask, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Jeon Jungkook, answer me,” Seokjin’s voice is slightly garbled by static, but the authority in his tone is unmistakable.

Jungkook swallows thickly. He lifts the small microphone attached to his lapel, bringing it closer to his lips. “H-hyung?” he stutters. Your eyes widen, realization and panic seizing you.

You both share a frantic look. Fuck!

Seokjin chuckles darkly. “Took you long enough. Did you and our little mistress have fun?”

“W-well, we—” Jungkook stammers, looking to you for help. You shrug your shoulders, equally as tongue-tied. He returns to his mic, “We were just, umm…”

“Open the door,” is all Seokjin utters before Jungkook’s earpiece goes dead. Jungkook rips the small piece of plastic from his ear, both of you turning to the door when a loud knock reverberates across the restroom.

“It’s…” Jungkook cuts off, but he doesn’t need to say anything for you to know exactly who is waiting outside the door.

“Open the door,” Seokjin repeats, but there’s a certain quality to his voice that makes both you and Jungkook immediately want to follow his command. Without another word, Jungkook stands up stiffly, his feet dragging as he unlocks the door to allow him inside.

“No fair,” you complain. You pout, crossing your arms. “You used your siren voice on us!”

“I wouldn’t have needed to use it if you two weren’t acting like a pair of brats,” Seokjin says, sickly sweet. He’s smiling, but there is darkness lingering in his expression. It doesn’t help that your lower body is still exposed, free for his gaze to roam. “Do you have any idea how much trouble the two of you are in?”

“I’m sure my father is hardly concerned,” you scoff, filled with false bravado. You smirk when his eyebrows furrow, keen to tempt his anger. After all, Seokjin is the most fun to play with when he lets go. “Besides, I pay you to look out for me, don’t I? I’d expect you to come up with an excuse on our behalf.”

“I suppose so,” Seokjin hums. He glances at Jungkook, whose prior arousal has yet to subside. In a flash, Seokjin has Jungkook backed up to a toilet cabinet, roughly grabbing his bulge. Jungkook wheezes, his eyes flashing open in surprise.

“And you?” Seokjin asks, using his free hand to force Jungkook to face him. “You understand that you left your post, don’t you?”

“Yes,” Jungkook gasps out. Seokjin’s grip tightens, and Jungkook releases a soft moan.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes hyung,” Jungkook emphasizes, his hips unconsciously rutting upwards. Seokjin situates his thigh in between Jungkook’s legs, letting the younger boy rock against it for a few moments before pulling back just as quickly. Jungkook whines pathetically, jaw agape.

“You both lost the game. What makes you think you deserve anything?” Seokjin asks. He directs his question to you, glancing over his shoulder. “Well? Did I interrupt something I wasn’t supposed to see?”

When you don’t reply, Seokjin frowns. “Answer me, Y/N.”

His voice is musical, and it pulls the answer out of you, unable to resist. “Yes,” you say, through gritted teeth.

“What were you going to do?”

“He was going to fuck me,” you say. You smirk when his shoulders tense. “We were going to fuck without you.”

At your admission, Seokjin considers you with an unreadable expression. The tension in the air is tangible. Jungkook has his eyes averted, but judging from the way his cock twitches in his trousers, you know he’s also aware of what’s going to happen. All you need to do is wait a little, and then Seokjin will—

He steps away from Jungkook and walks towards the chaise lounge situated near the wall of the entrance. He sits on it primly, his back straightened as though he were about to call you in for tea. “Go on then,” he says, flapping his hands flippantly. When neither of you moves, he quirks an eyebrow in amusement. “What? Don’t let me ruin your fun. Continue where you left off.”

“Um…” you say, thoroughly at a loss. This is usually the point where Seokjin decides to punish either of you, or perhaps drag the two of you back home for more adequate disciplinary action. Instead, he seems content to allow the two of you to do as you please. He has a mask of indifference on, and it’s always been a little hard for you to figure out what he was really thinking.

“But…” Jungkook gulps. “W-we wanted you to, um…”

“What? To join you? Oh please,” Seokjin laughs, a little cruelly. “No, I’d rather not stop your fun. Carry on.”

“But—”

“Carry. On.” Seokjin commands, his power trickling onto his words. At once, Jungkook straightens up, his feet carrying him towards you and spreading your legs apart. You gasp, the sudden movement surprising you.

“Seokjin, what are you..?”

“Fuck her, Jungkook,” Seokjin interrupts, ignoring your baffled stutters. “Fuck her until she can’t even stand.”

Jungkook shoves down his pants and underwear in one swift motion, kicking them off his ankles somewhere behind him. He situates his cock against you, rubbing the tip against your slit for a second before thrusting forward and splitting you open.

You both scream and moan at the sensation, your warm walls clamped around him deliciously. He begins his brutal pace immediately, both due to his desperation to meet his orgasm and also the magic imbued in the simple command given by Seokjin.

The intoxicating roll of his hips has your eyes seeing stars as he pulls out nearly all the way before pushing back in. He angles himself until he hits your sweet spot with every thrust, ripping ragged whimpers from your throat. Your second orgasm is quickly building before you know it, your body tightening up as he continues to rut into you.

With a trembling moan, you gush around him, coating his cock with your arousal. Your legs are still shaking even after you finish, your entire body going limp from the exertion. Jungkook slows down, still painfully hard inside of you.

“Did I tell you to stop? Keep going,” Seokjin utters quietly. He is the picture of calmness, his hands folded delicately onto his lap.

“What?” you exclaim. “I can’t, no, it’s too much—”

But when it comes to Seokjin, his word is the law. Between the two of you, Jungkook has always been more susceptible to his voice, completely powerless under Seokjin’s influence. And so, Jungkook resumes fucking into you, mindlessly obedient.

“I’m too—Jungkook, stop, I’m sensitive,” you cry out, but your pleas go unheard as he reaches between the two of you, his thumb grazing your clit and causing your entire body to jolt forward. Your walls squeeze around his cock in response and Jungkook trembles in pleasure. His ministrations on your clit, in tandem with the swiveling of his hips, are almost vicious, the sting both pleasurable and painful.

You can feel the beginnings of tears forming, the assault on your senses almost too unbearable to handle. “S-Seokjin, please! Make him stop!”

Jungkook is nearing his climax, his rhythm growing erratic and showing no signs of slowing down. He is unable to hear you past his desire, completely entranced and hypnotized.

“You want him to stop? Fine,” Seokjin says, amused. “Jungkook, stop.”

“No, please!” Jungkook lets out a tortured wail. His body freezes in place, his cock still twitching inside of you. The poor boy lets out a few stray tears, his eyes squeezed shut as his body refuses to do his bidding. He sobs, his voice cracking as he pleads, “Hyung, I was so close!”

“Not my problem,” Seokjin giggles. He gets up from his perch on the sofa, leisurely walking towards the both of you as he surveys the frozen boy with a satisfied grin. “That ought to teach you a lesson,” he says, patting Jungkook on the back.

“And you,” he says, facing you, “aren’t getting away so easily.”

You gulp, a shudder running down your spine. “B-but, the party..?”

Snorting incredulously, Seokjin taps his microphone on. “Namjoon-ssi? Yes, I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly. I found Miss Y/N. It seems that she is having stomach problems, so I’ll be escorting her home. Please inform Master Min about her early departure,” he says in one breath, shutting his earpiece off before the other man can reply.

“It seems like everything is already taken care of,” Seokjin says angelically, even though he is anything but. He bends down to pick up Jungkook’s discarded pants, handing them to the younger. He also finds your forgotten vibrator under one of the sinks, picking it up and placing it neatly into his pocket.

He smiles. “Get dressed, both of you. The night is still young, after all.”

[rosiehunterwolf]

wait

(storm section inspired by @ambrosial-tea)

Prompts: Home and Memories

Word Count: 5,901 (hey i think i'm actually starting to get these back to a more reasonable number XD)

Characters: Lloyd and Garmadon

Timeline: Between episodes 13 (Day of the Great Devourer) and 18 (Child’s Play) with some flashback scenes

Trigger Warnings: Abandonment

Summary: Lloyd’s not so great at being patient. It’s not his fault though- maybe he would be better at it if waiting didn’t always end up being so disappointing- if people actually kept their promises. But this time’s going to be different, he knows it. His father will come back for him. And Lloyd’s going to wait.

As long as it takes.

Since I already got two bingos on the sparks board, I decided to switch it up and change to the warm board!

Read on FFN.net

Read on Ao3

Tumblr work under the cut

In the aftermath of the battle, Lloyd only had one thought on his mind.

Cheers and whoops from the citizens of Ninjago City- and the ninja themselves- rang through the air as the realization that the Great Devourer was dead hit them. Lloyd hardly noticed, though. Gripping the handrail at the edge of the building, he peered out over the city. He was around here somewhere. He had to be.

“We did it!” Kai cried, grabbing Lloyd’s hand and raising it high in the air. “We saved the city! The Great Devourer is dead!” We? Lloyd glared at him, although the fire ninja didn’t even seem to notice. My dad was the one who seemed to do all the saving.

“Ultra!” Cole cried as the dragon landed on the street near the foot of the building. Racing towards the fire escape, the ninja hurried down the stairs and over to the dragon. Cole threw his arms around Rocky’s snout, the others not far behind. “You’re safe, bud!”

As the ninja and Nya laughed and caressed the dragon, Lloyd hung back, feeling lost. This wasn’t right. They couldn’t go on celebrating when someone was still missing.

“Where’s my dad?” he burst out, his voice sounding a lot shakier than what he had hoped for. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

The others exchanged glances. Lloyd hated the way they looked at each other, trying to decide what to tell him, because he obviously wasn’t good enough to know what they were really thinking.

Nya walked over to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and bending over slightly to put herself more at his level. Her eyes sparkled with regret. “Lloyd-”

“Sensei Wu?”

Jaws dropped at Cole’s exclamation, and they jerked their gazes towards where he was pointing. Sure enough, Uncle Wu was sitting in the middle of the street, in a pile of green Devourer goo, looking lost as he pushed himself to his feet. Lloyd closed his eyes, letting his breath out slowly. So at least one of his mistakes had been fixed.

“He’s alive?” Jay gaped. “He’s alive!”

Kai grabbed Lloyd by the wrist, half-dragging him over towards their sensei as the ninja tackled him into a hug. Lloyd reached out to put a hand on his uncle’s back, but paused. He had no place here. Don’t get me wrong, I love the ninja, but… I was never supposed to be part of this. I’m only here because my uncle is their sensei, because I’m their beloved green ninja.

Wu pulled back from his students, grinning- only for his smile to falter as his dark eyes met Lloyd’s red ones. He tilted his head in that odd, knowing way of his. Lloyd wanted to break the contact, but couldn’t.

“Your father is gone, isn’t he.” Not a question, but a statement.

Lloyd let his gaze drop to the ground, remaining silent. His uncle reached a hand out for his shoulder but stopped short when Lloyd flinched away.

“Yeah, and with him, our golden weapons,” Kai growled. Nya elbowed him, hard, and he yelped, rubbing his side and scowling at her.

“Weapons or not, we will see him again,” Wu told him, “of that I am certain.”

“Yeah, only because your dumb prophecy says so.”

Wu flinched. “Lloyd-”

“Do I really have to fight my father someday, Uncle Wu?”

He sighed. “One day, nephew, that time will come. But I can hope that it is not for many, many years to come, when you are much older and stronger and wiser. Until then, we must not linger on the future. You ninja have done well today. You should be proud of yourselves, celebrate your victory for a little while.”

“Don’t worry, bigshot.” Kai ruffled his hair. “You’re the chosen one. And we’re the best teachers there are! You’ll be more than ready by the time the final battle rolls around.”

Lloyd clenched his teeth. Why couldn’t any of them see? He didn’t want to fight his father. He couldn’t. His father had come back for him when the Serpentine had trapped him, even when everyone else had lost hope. His father had been the one to comfort him about their futures, the one to protect him, the one to fix his mistakes with the Serpentine. So what if he had taken the golden weapons? If it weren’t for him, they’d all be inside the stomach of a giant snake right now. Were the ninja really so quick to forget that?

They didn’t know him like Lloyd did. Even his uncle had never seen the side of him Lloyd had seen. His father was a good man who had made bad choices. Couldn’t the same be said for Lloyd? If he had changed, why couldn’t his father?

Don’t worry, dad, he vowed silently. I won’t fight you. I’ll find a way to fix this. To make this right.

You see if I don’t.

---

Lightning illuminated the small room, dazzling Garmadon’s tired face as he carried the blanket over to the couch. Sitting down, he gazed out the window, the pattering sound of rain against the glass both comforting and incredibly lonely at the same time.

He sighed, turning towards the hallway. “I know you’re there, Lloyd.”

A small boy slipped into view, a stuffed dragon hugged tightly against his chest and his wispy, whitish-blond hair a mess as he blinked shyly up at him. “I’m scared of the storm, Daddy.”

Garmadon shook his head, scooting over on the couch and patting the space beside him. Lloyd needed no further encouragement, running up to him and hauling himself up to sit beside him. Lloyd burrowed himself against Garmadon’s side, and he made sure to pull the edge of his blanket a little tighter around his son.

Thunder rumbled loudly, and Lloyd whimpered, gripping tighter onto Garmadon. He waited a moment for the boy to relax before speaking.

“So. Mind telling me what it is you find so scary about storms?” Lloyd fidgeted. “They’re so loud! And the lightning- I don’t want it to get me, Daddy.”

Garmadon chuckled. “So you’re scared of a little noise and lights, eh? Somehow, I didn’t quite expect that from you.”

Lloyd yelped as another rumble echoed through the air, this one seeming to shake the house with its ferocity. Lloyd’s dragon slipped out of his grip and he quickly snatched it back up.

“It’s just a process of nature, son. There’s no need to fear it. We are safe here.”

Lloyd glanced up at him with wide eyes, and Garmadon sighed.

“It’s like a dragon, Lloyd. The storm is a big, restless dragon who’s bored and wants to play. The thunder is his roar, and the lightning is his fire breath.”

Lloyd’s eyes glowed, and he shuffled anxiously against Garmadon’s side. “Well, maybe it’s not that scary anymore…”

Garmadon huffed a laugh. “Dragons. That’s all it ever takes with you, isn’t it?”

Lloyd murmured something inaudible, nestling his head in Garmadon’s lap. They sat there together in the silence of the room, and long after Garmadon had thought his son had fallen asleep, he suddenly spoke.

“Daddy?”

“Hm?”

“Why did you and Mommy fight?”

Garmadon breathed out slowly. “Lloyd, you know it’s not nice to listen to people when they don’t know you’re there.”

“Sorry.”

“Look, son. There are some things in this world that are more complicated than you will ever know.” Seeing the confused look on the boy’s face, he elaborated. “Sometimes, people say things they don’t mean. Sometimes, mommies and daddies need to take a little break from each other.”

“Is that why you’re sleeping on the couch?”

“I suppose so. But it’s only for one night, Lloyd. We’ll sort things out tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

Garmadon gazed out the window again, running a hand through his thick hair. He tried not to think about the dark roots he had spotted there earlier, staining his deep chestnut hair the color of darkest night.

That was something no one needed to know about yet. The red eyes had already been hard enough on Misako, especially when their son had inherited them. He tried not to think about what that meant, either. The venom wasn’t hereditary, was it? Lloyd showed no signs of the snappishness he had felt as a youth. On the contrary, the child was pure of heart and bright of soul, one of the sweetest people he had ever met. Garmadon couldn’t understand how he had gotten so lucky.

“Did I do something to make you and Mommy fight?”

“What?” Garmadon started suddenly. “Heavens, child, no.” Taking Lloyd’s chin in his hand, he titled it towards him so that they were looking each other in the eye. “Honey, none of this is your fault. This is Daddy’s mistake, not yours. We both love you very much, you know that, right?”

Lloyd nodded, sniffling as he wrapped his arms tighter around him. “Can I stay with you tonight?”

Garmadon rested a hand on his head. “Whatever you need, my son. I will always be here for you.”

---

“Lloyd Montgomery Garmadon, what were you thinking?” Kai ripped the sword off of his back, sending it to the ground with a clatter. “We told you to stay on the bus, and what did you do? Go after a bunch of pirates?”

“Yeah, kid.” Cole crossed his arms over his chest. “You could’ve been seriously hurt.”

Lloyd glared at them. “I was only trying to help! You never let me do anything!” “Because you’re not ready!” Kai put his hands in his hair, yanking on it in frustration. “Augh, can’t you see? We’re only trying to protect you! What good is all this training if you don’t even make it to the final battle?”

“Lloyd,” Zane said more gently. “You need to take things one step at a time. One day, you will be ready to fight beside us. One day, but not today.”

Lloyd looked away, pushing down the bubbling anger inside of him. This didn’t matter. None of this mattered. If the ninja wanted to treat him like a baby, fine. It didn’t matter what they thought.

All he cared about was his father. He needed to impress him. Make him proud.

“Lloyd? Do you understand?”

“Yes, Zane,” he muttered, avoiding the nindroid’s gaze and instead choosing to kick at a rock. The ninja exchanged hesitant glances, but they didn’t press him further.

Nya sighed. “It’s been a long day. What do you say we get back to the Bounty, and-”

“Sorry! You snooze, you lose!”

The group whipped around towards the Bounty, where the thrusters were powering up as several Serpentine peered at them over the guardrails- as well as a familiar dark figure.

“Dad,” Lloyd breathed, lunging forward- only to be stopped by Nya’s strong arms. He squirmed against her, but she wouldn’t relent.

“Lord Garmadon!” Kai cried. “He stole our ship! I can’t believe he stole our ship!”

“Come on,” Jay groaned. “We just got it back! Can’t it go five minutes without being taken?”

“The Bounty belongs to us,” Cole warned. “We fought for it, fair and square. Give it back, Garmadon.”

The Dark Lord gave a dry laugh. “Like I’d give anything to you.”

Lord Garmadon’s head turned- freezing as he made eye contact with Lloyd. The same eerie red of his own eyes reflected back at him. He longed to say something, anything- but his mouth was dry and words refused to come. He hoped his father could tell what he was thinking, anyway.

Please don’t leave. Stay here. We can work something out. We’ll fix everything between us.

Please don’t leave me again.

For a moment, something that looked like doubt flashed in his father’s eyes, and Lloyd felt hope soar in his chest. My dad might actually- he could-

“You’re getting stronger, son,” Garmadon said, “but never strong enough to defeat me. Give up and turn back now, before it is too late.”

No. Lloyd felt himself fumble as the Bounty rose into the air and flew away, taking his father further and further from him. No, he couldn’t be leaving him again, this had been his one chance to get his father back, to earn his love, but Lloyd had blown it.

I’m sorry, dad. I wasn’t good enough. I let you down.

It won’t happen again. Next time, I’ll try harder.

Next time, I’ll make you proud.

---

Their apartment was quiet that night. As Kai and Nya washed dishes in the kitchen- it was their night for clean-up duty- the others crowded around the TV in their tiny living room, playing video games with the volume low. Their usual yelling was diminished to nothing more than hushed whispers.

Behind them, Lloyd was curled up on the couch, already out like a light even though it was only seven pm. The boy was undoubtedly exhausted from the fight with the pirates earlier in the day, Kai thought crossly.

It took him a moment to realize Nya was staring at Lloyd, too. “Kai,” she asked slowly, working her jaw. “Is Lloyd okay?”

“Why,” he asked quickly. “Is he hurt? Did something happen? Man, I told him not to-”

“No. I mean… do you think he’s been acting a little… odd, lately?”

Kai frowned, turning to look at the boy. His brow furrowed as he slept, the corners of his mouth twitching downward slightly. “I guess. He’s probably just tired from all the training. We’ve been working him pretty hard, as of late.”

“Yeah,” Nya nodded, although she didn’t look like the answer truly satisfied her.

If Kai was being honest, it didn’t feel right to him, either.

---

Misako stormed into the room, dropping Lloyd into his lap with a huff. “That’s it, he’s your problem now.”

Garmadon looked up at her questioningly. “What happened?”

“What do you think happened? He bit me again! So, get him to stop.”

“What makes you think I would be able to make him stop?”

“I don’t know, but the fangs come from your side of the family, so it’s your responsibility now.”

“What do you want me to do?”

“I don’t know, you’re a smart man, you’ll figure it out! I’m going to go make some tea. Good luck.”

Garmadon stared after her but was pulled out of his thoughts as something sharp chomped down on his hand. He glanced down at Lloyd. “Oh, mister. What are we going to do with you?”

---

When Garmadon returned home the next day, there was a plump green dragon plush stuffed beneath his arm. He handed it to Lloyd, who was sitting on the floor, playing with his wooden blocks as he sucked on his pacifier. “Here. Next time you feel the impulse to bite someone, bite this instead.”

Lloyd eyed the plush with interest, reaching out for it with grabby hands and clutching it around its middle, pulling it close. Spitting out his pacifier, he began to babble to the dragon, blocks forgotten. Garmadon picked up the pacifier, eyeing it closely and sighing as he caught sight of the puncture holes.

When he glanced at Lloyd, the boy was chomping down on the wing of the dragon. Garmadon rolled his eyes, crouching down next to him. “Hey, what is it with you and biting things you like? C’mon, bud.” He gently pried the wing out of his mouth. “You’re going to hurt him- uh, it- hey, don’t you think your little dragon friend needs a name?”

Lloyd stared thoughtfully at the stuffed animal. “Buhbuh.”

“No, no, no, he needs a noble, dragon-ly name! Like Blaze, or Windracer, or-”

“Buhbuh,” Lloyd said firmly.

“..Buffy?”

“Buhbuh.”

Garmadon sighed. “The fierce and mighty Buhbuh? That’s what you want?”

Lloyd cheered, hugging the plush tight. “Buhbuh!”

The name wasn’t the only thing that stuck. Over the following weeks, Lloyd fell in love with that dragon. Everywhere the toddler went, Buhbuh wasn’t far behind. In his playroom, in the crib, in the car, at meals, even in the bathroom. Misako had spent twenty minutes one night trying to wrestle the toy away from him before he took his bath.

It had solved the biting issue, at least, although Misako often muttered that he had just traded one problem out for another. He dismissed her worries, telling her that Lloyd would grow out of his dragon phase eventually.

Although, that certainly wasn’t happening anytime soon. As Lloyd got older, he only got more and more intrigued by the creatures. Suddenly, everything had to have dragons- his pajamas, the shows on TV, his pull-ups, and his many, many toys. While his biting habits faded, as soon as he learned to walk, he was tottering around the house, roaring and flapping his arms like wings. Even as his collection of dragon toys and figurines grew, however, Buhbuh was always his favorite.

Garmadon should’ve known better than to think the carefree times would last forever, though. Ever since Lloyd had been born, he had been so much happier- and he was certain that the presence of his son was slowing the spread of the venom. But it wasn’t gone. It was a curse that the damned snake had forced him to bear forever.

He wanted to put it off as long as possible, though. He was happier here than he had ever been in his life, and he didn’t want to lose all this.

He knew if anyone could help him, it was his brother. Wu understood how much he loved his wife and child. He knew how badly he wanted this. He would do whatever he could to help. His teas and meditations had always been helpful in the past, and he hoped this time wouldn’t be any different.

“Do you have everything, dear?” Misako asked, helping him slip on his coat.

He lifted the duffel bag in his hand. “All in here. I’m ready.”

A sharp tug on his pant leg distracted him. He glanced down to see Lloyd, sniffing miserably. “Daddy, why do you have to go?”

Garmadon crouched down next to him. “It’s only for a few days, pumpkin. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Why?”

Garmadon sighed. “Daddy’s been feeling…” he glanced at Misako, at a loss, but she only shrugged. “… A bit under the weather lately. I’m going to pay a visit to your Uncle Wu so he can help me with my… impulse control.”

Lloyd blinked at him, and Garmadon smirked, realizing that every word he had just said had gone straight over his son’s head. He ruffled his hair, standing again. “Don’t worry about it too much. You’ll be fine. Your mother will take good care of you.”

As he turned towards the door, he stopped at the sound of sniffling. Turning back to Lloyd, he wiped the tears from his eyes with his sleeve. “Hey. It’ll be alright, okay? Daddy will be back soon. You can even call me tonight.” Glancing around, he spotted Buhbuh sitting on the end table and grabbed him, pressing him into Lloyd’s arms. “Buhbuh will take care of you when I’m gone, okay?”

Lloyd hugged Buhbuh tighter. “Okay.”

“Don’t worry, Lloyd. Buhbuh is the best protector there is. And remember, I’m the one who bought him for you. Whenever you see him, you’ll know that I’ll always come back.”

---

“Lloyd, steady!” Jay cried. “We’re wobbling too much!”

Kai yelped, gripping onto Cole’s leg, where he was struggling to balance on Zane’s shoulder. On the nindriod’s other side was Jay, and on top of Cole, Sensei Wu balanced, unfazed. Below them all, Lloyd stood, trembling under all their weight.

“Uh, guys, are you sure this is a good idea-”

“Ahhh! Watch out, we’re going to fall!”

The ninja screamed as they fell to the ground, landing in a tangled pile of limbs. Lloyd quickly wriggled his way out from underneath them, and the others extracted themselves more slowly, groaning.

“You gotta find your balance, Lloyd,” Cole said, rubbing his shoulder where Kai had landed on it. “You have the strength to lift us, but you’re not focusing enough.”

“Well, maybe I’m trying!” Lloyd snapped. “I don’t see you down here lifting all that weight!”

Kai frowned. “Lloyd, Cole is only trying to help.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need help. You’re putting too much pressure on me! I could do way better on my own!”

Sensei Wu put a hand on his nephew’s shoulder. “Perhaps it is time for a break. Let’s get you a drink of water and rest for a bit, then we can try again.”

Lloyd begrudgingly shuffled after his uncle, grumbling under his breath. Kai watched him go with a furrowed brow.

“What’s got the kid acting so irritable lately?”

Jay shook his head. “I don’t know. But he’s starting to get on my nerves. It feels like he’s just being stubborn for the sake of it.”

Zane frowned. “Maybe he’s right. Maybe we are putting too much pressure on him. Supporting the weight of all of us is probably asking too much for a nine-year-old boy, green ninja or not.”

Cole shook his head. “This is the same kid who put a crack through Dareth’s floor. If he can do that, he can lift us. I know he can do it. But he just seems… distant.”

“We’ll keep an eye on it.” Kai waved his hand, turning back towards the training space. “But we don’t have time for his moodiness now. Lord Garmadon is out there somewhere, and he’s not going to wait around for us to sort out our issues.”

---

“Uh, come on boy, we gotta catch up with the ninja, I’m not gonna fall behind again- woah!”

Ultra let out a mighty roar, careening forward with a mighty flap of his wings and sending the reins shooting out of Lloyd’s hands. He only just managed to snag them before they hurtled over Ultra’s heads.

“Easy boy, easy! Look,” he sighed, letting a hand rest gently on the dragon’s off-white scales. “We’re never gonna win this race and save the dojo if you and me don’t learn to work together. Besides, I’m the green ninja. I’m meant to ride you, anyway. Imagine how impressed the others will be if we come back and I’m riding you like a pro! We can rub it in their faces what a natural I am with dragons, heh. What do you say?”

Flame’s head snorted, letting out a puff of smoke, which wasn’t the most reassuring answer.

“Hey, wait a minute.” Lloyd squinted, staring at the vehicles racing through the canyon below them. There was the familiar shape of the Ultra Sonic Raider, but above it-

The ship appeared to have undergone some design changes, but there was still no mistaking the vast, furling sails or the dragon figurehead. The Bounty was in the race.

His father was here.

Lloyd’s heart skipped a beat. His father was here- he could see the black figure now, helping some of the Serpentine to point a cannon at the Ultra Sonic Raider.

Ultra tensed beneath him, but Lloyd hesitated, holding the mighty dragon back.

His dad was trying to hurt his friends. Lloyd didn’t want to get in his father’s way, but…

He couldn’t let him do this.

Lloyd gritted his teeth, digging his hands into the reins. “Okay, Ultra. Let’s put a stop to this.”

Ultra roared, diving towards the Bounty so sharply that Lloyd had to grip onto the saddle for dear life to keep himself from flying off. “Get out of the way!” he yelled at his father. Garmadon lurched back from the cannon, eyes widening, but it was too late. Ultra was already slamming into the ship, sending both himself and the Bounty spiraling.

Snapping up the reins, Lloyd pulled back, steering Ultra up, narrowly avoiding crashing into the ground.

“Woooo! Nice going, Lloyd!”

Kai’s cry sent a flare of warmth through his chest, but it quickly dissipated as his gaze fell on his father, who was barking at the Serpentine as they hurried to get the ship going straight again. He had made the right choice- the only choice- but at his father’s expense.

A wave of panic suddenly hit him. He couldn’t mess this up. He had been given another chance to make his father proud of him, and he couldn’t let this one slip between his fingers.

“C’mon, Ultra, let’s show ‘em what we got!” With a jerk of the reins, the dragon was shooting through the air like a bullet. Lloyd steered him up, and Ultra did a graceful loop through the air, followed by a swift corkscrew.

Lloyd blinked, surprised at how easily his dragon was listening to him. Usually, Ultra was as stubborn as possible, but apparently he enjoyed putting on a show as much as Lloyd did.

“Quit fooling around, Lloyd!” Cole cried from the Raider. “We gotta win this race, and we need your help!”

Lloyd glanced back at the Bounty, but his father wasn’t even looking at him, just waving the Mega Weapon around as he yelled at the Serpentine. Lloyd sighed, guiding Ultra towards the guys. This obviously wasn’t working.

As the Raider sped over the rocky ground below them, it slowly shifted into a softer, lusher landscape- and then came the snow. Lloyd stuck his tongue out, letting a flake land on his tongue.

“Birchwood Forest!” Kai cried. “Oh, we’ll never get through all these trees to catch up!”

There was a roaring of an engine behind him, and Lloyd glanced back to see his father coming in the Bounty, not too far off. I still have a chance! I can still impress him!

“Let me find a shortcut,” he called to the ninja. “Ultra! Up, boy!”

Scanning the woods below, he quickly eyed out a path, then swooped down with Ultra, racing through the trees. “Follow me!”

The turns were sharp, and Lloyd barely avoided crashing into the trees on more than a couple of occasions. But he didn’t, Ultra’s movements swift and precise below him. Lloyd let out a whoop of exhilaration. He was finally getting the hang of this! Ultra was listening to him! Taming a dragon was no easy feat, his father would have to be proud of him now-

Suddenly, Ultra let out a pained cry, and before Lloyd could process anything, the dragon was being yanked backward and plummeting towards the ground. Lloyd screamed, clutching onto the saddle, and Ultra threw his wings around him, sheltering him as they hit the ground with an almighty crash.

---

Lloyd groaned, blinking stars from his eyes as something bumped against his cheek. When it finally came into focus, he saw Wisp’s head staring at him, grunting in concern.

“I- I’m fine, boy,” Lloyd huffed, grabbing at the dragon’s muzzle for support as he pushed himself to his feet. “What in Ninjago just happened? We were doing so well, now we’re going to lose the race!”

Ultra groaned, raising his left foot and shaking it, where chains clanked loudly.

“No, no, no-” Lloyd raced over, examining the cuff and finding long, curved bones secured tightly around Ultra’s ankle. “The Skulkin! They sabotaged us! Those scheming, no good boneheads!” Lloyd yanked desperately at the chains, trying to get them to budge. “Augh, now we’re never going to win the race, and my father will never-” Lloyd cried out as his hand scraped against the sharp edge of the bone. Immediately, Flame’s head was at his side, nosing him away from the cuff and whining softly as he gently licked Lloyd’s scratched hand.

“I… I just wanted to make him proud,” Lloyd sniffed, burying his face against Flame’s scales. The fire dragon felt comfortingly warm in the cold of the snowdrift.

Rocky’s head butted him softly, before carefully taking the edge of the cuff between his teeth and crunching down on it, shattering it into a dozen pieces. Lloyd sucked in his breath, giving Rocky’s muzzle a quick hug before clambering back onto Ultra’s back.

“If we hurry, we can still catch them now! C’mon, boy, we have a lot of ground to make up for!”

---

Lloyd didn’t win the race, but by the time the finish line came into view, he could see the ninja crowding around the golden winner’s cup, cheering. In front of them, Garmadon was yelling at the referee, insisting that he had won and that the ref had made a faulty call.

Lloyd’s breath caught in his throat. His father was right here. Closer than he had been since the defeat of the Great Devourer. Part of Lloyd wanted to run up and hug him, but he knew he couldn’t. That wouldn’t last. He needed something more permanent.

His eyes strayed to the Bounty, resting a little way behind the Dark Lord. With his father out yelling at the ninja and the race staff and all the Serpentine left behind in the Glacier Barrens, the ship was empty.

If Lloyd took it back- his father wouldn’t be able to fly away again. He’d have to stay. They could talk, work things out. As soon as he could get his father to stop running and just listen, he knew he could get through to him.

Lloyd eyed his father warily, but Garmadon was too distracted to notice the giant dragon behind him, as were the ninja. Quietly, Lloyd instructed Ultra forward, and the dragon padded across the ground, climbing up onto the deck of the Bounty.

“That’s not even street legal!” Garmadon was yelling. “My ship was clearly-”

“Your ship?”

His father whipped around, and Lloyd froze as they stared at each other for a long moment.

Please. Please, please, please. Lloyd reached a hand out. “Dad-”

Police sirens sounded behind them, and suddenly two officers hopped out of the car. “Alright, Garmadon, you’re coming with us.”

“Wait!” Lloyd cried, slipping off of Ultra and landing on the ground mere feet from his father. “Dad, it doesn’t have to be like this. You can-”

A screeching of tires, and suddenly Skales was pulling up in his bus. “Look who needs who now!”

Garmadon scowled, turning to go. Lloyd’s brain screamed at him. This was his one chance to stop him. If he did nothing, who knew how long it would be until he got to see him again?

Lloyd lunged forward, grabbing Garmadon’s wrist. The man looked back in surprise. “What are you-”

“Dad. Please. Don’t go.”

Garmadon fell silent, staring at him for a moment. Time seemed to stand still.

Then Garmadon was yanking away, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, son. We both know I can’t do that.” In two steps, he was aboard the Serpentine bus and speeding away.

No. Lloyd felt tears well in his eyes. There were others here, and Lloyd hadn’t cried in front of anyone in a long time, but he couldn’t bring himself to care anymore. His father had been right here. He had touched him.

“Way to go, bud!” Kai whooped, running over to him, the other ninja close behind. “You got the Bounty back- hey, woah, what’s wrong?”

Lloyd quickly tried to cover his eyes, but Kai was already crouched down next to him, pulling his arms away and gently wiping at his tears with the sleeve of his gi.

Jay put a hand on his back. “You’re not hurt, are you?”

Lloyd shook his head, sniffling. “I just… I thought… my father, I thought he would… I thought if I could make him proud, he would stop leaving…” Lloyd choked on a sob, burying his face in Kai’s gi. “Why does he keep leaving? Why does everyone leave? What did I do wrong?”

“Oh, bud,” Kai whispered, running hands through Lloyd’s hair gently. “This is what’s been upsetting you, hasn’t it?”

Lloyd whimpered miserably, and Kai hugged him tighter- his grip so firm, so protective, that it made Lloyd think maybe everything could be okay again, eventually.

“You look at me,” Kai demanded, tilting his chin up. “None of this is your fault. You hear me? None of it. All the people that left you were jerks who didn’t appreciate how amazing you were. They don’t deserve you. We don’t deserve you. But you’re our true family, Lloyd. We will never, ever do what they did.”

“You hear that?” Cole punched him lightly in the chest, his voice sounding suspiciously choked up. “You’re one of us, now, green bean. You can’t escape us, whether you like it or not.”

“Your father will never understand this, Lloyd.” Jay gestured at the group with his hands. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way. You deserve a father who will be there for you, one whose love is not clouded by dreams of vengeance. But that’s how things are. So you’re stuck with us, instead.”

“I’m sorry he couldn’t be here, Lloyd,” Zane murmured. “But we are. And we love you. So if there’s ever something bothering you, talk to us about it. We want to do everything we can to make you feel wanted.”

Nya crouched down next to Kai. “You and me against the world, bud. Remember that? We’re not giving up on you. Ever. So your father can stuff it-”

Zane elbowed her, and she grinned sheepishly. “Sorry. Now’s not the best time for that. But you get my point. I’ll fight stupid destiny for you, Lloyd Garmadon. We all will.”

Lloyd’s eyes welled up again, but this time the tears were happy as he collapsed against them. Five pairs of arms hugged him back, warm and strong and safe.

His father had left again. But that wasn’t what was important right now. His true home was here, with the ninja.

And he had hope it always would be.

---

Garmadon gazed down at the bundle in his arms. His posture was stiff and unnatural, his rough hands as gentle as possible as they supported the weight.

This was easily the most precious thing he had ever carried.

Lloyd stared up at him with wide, curious eyes. Every curve and inch of him was perfect- and he was his. Garmadon could see himself in the curve of his son’s nose or the outline of his jaw, Misako in the shape of his eyes or the hue of his skin.

He still couldn’t believe it.

It had taken Misako hours to convince him he wasn’t going to hurt Lloyd, and now, here he was, carrying his son for the first time.

His son. He loved the way that sounded.

Garmadon shifted his grip slightly, and suddenly Lloyd began to fuss. Garmadon glanced to Misako for help, but she simply shook her head, smiling.

At a loss, Garmadon cradled Lloyd closer to his chest. “Shh, shh, Lloyd, it’s okay. Daddy’s got you.”

Lloyd stopped almost immediately at the sound of his voice, cooing in wonder as he reached a chubby little hand out. Garmadon bowed his head, closing his eyes and letting Lloyd trace his fingers gently across his face.

Garmadon felt the tension ease from his shoulders. This was a person. A living, breathing being, and he and Misako had created him.

Nothing in the world could’ve ever prepared him for the wonderful gift of fatherhood. This was one thing in his life he vowed not to mess up.

“You’re safe, little one,” he murmured. “I will always be here for you.”

[eugene-not-flynn]

colors

title: colors

word count: 1138

Summary: Rapunzel has an anxiety attack. Eugene knows how to help... which leads to some revelations about Eugene Fitzherbert. Post-Series New Dream hurt/comfort. 

Warnings: unedited, anxiety attack, crying, vague mentions of canonical trauma, a fair amount of softness and fluff. (AKA they are both traumatized, your honor, and I want them to have to deal with it). 

A/N: this was written in one-go as a random thought. Mixed feelings about it. People’s anxiety manifests differently. I based Rapunzel’s anxiety attack on ones I have had myself. I do not mean to reflect everyone’s experience here. Just my own!

Rapunzel doesn’t understand what is happening.

She’s cried before, but not like this. Her chest is tight and her hands are shaky and her vision blurs with sudden, hot tears. She hears Pascal squeak worriedly somewhere to her left and she tries to give him a reassuring smile but she doesn’t understand what’s happening.

She had been thinking about her schedule today, and the whispers of Gothel from her dream the night before, and Rapunzel knows they aren’t related—she can’t even remember what Gothel said—but something about the two of them together has her feeling unsteady. She sinks to the floor slowly, pulling her knees up.

She takes in a breath, and it pushes out of her lungs in a half-sob and she doesn’t know what is happening but he doesn’t have time for this, and she buries her fingers in her short brown hair.

Distantly she hears the door open and a familiar voice chime brightly, “Good morning, Sunshine—whoa.”

She doesn’t hear Eugene move, but she suddenly feels a gentle tug on her hands. “Hey, what’s wrong?” His voice is closer now, and much softer.

Rapunzel squeezes her eyes shut. Her chest is still too tight and she doesn’t know. There’s nothing wrong, it doesn’t make sense and she doesn’t know how to say any of that. How to explain in a way that will make sense. Rapunzel shakes her head in response, grateful for the way Eugene hasn’t let go of her hands.

“Okay,” Eugene says. “Okay. Rapunzel, can you look at me?” It’s a request. Not a demand. Rapunzel is still learning the difference.

She cracks her eyes open and can barely make out the blurry form of Eugene kneeling in front of her. She can’t make out his expression. Eugene gives her hands a small squeeze.

“Rapunzel, Sunshine… you gotta breathe.”

I’m trying, she wants to say. She thinks if she so much as breathes in too deeply, she’ll just start sobbing harder.

“Together, okay?” Eugene says when Rapunzel doesn’t respond. “Here. Try to match me.” He presses her palms to the center of his chest and holds them there with one hand. His other cups Rapunzel’s jaw, his thumb brushing against her damp cheeks. Rapunzel does her best to follow the steady rhythm Eugene sets.

In. Hold. Out. Repeat.

She’s not good at it at first. Her inhales are shakier than Eugene’s, and she’s exhaling well before Eugene is.

“I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I—I don’t know why or-or what even---”

“Sweetheart,” Eugene interrupts lightly, “do you have anything green in this room?”

The question is so… bizarre that it makes Rapunzel stop short a second. She glances at the room, blinking to clear the fresh tears in her eyes. “Um.” She sniffles. “That painting of Pascal.” She nods over Eugene’s left shoulder.

Eugene doesn’t even look. “Good. What about something red?”

Rapunzel’s eyes flit quickly around her bedroom. “The-uh. The chairs.”

“Something yellow?”

“The Corona crest on the canopy.”

Eugene presses gently on Rapunzel’s hands against his chest. She can feel his heartbeat now: steady and grounding. “How many purple books are on the top shelf of the bookcase?”

Rapunzel looks past Eugene’s head and counts them. “Seven.” Her brow furrows in confusion, and she meets Eugene’s eyes for the first time today.

The corner of his mouth quirks softly. “There we go.” He pulls Rapunzel’s hands from his chest and holds them, brushing his lips softly against her knuckles. He lowers their hands to his lap as he moves from kneeling to sitting, and opens his hands. Giving her the chance to pull away.

She doesn’t.

She feels… better. Rapunzel blinks, brushing her wet cheeks against her shoulder. “I… don’t know what happened.”

Eugene purses his lips and looks down at Rapunzel’s hands in his. “Well, I’m no expert, mind you. Only you can really be the expert of your own feelings.”

“But you knew how to help.”

Eugene lifts a shoulder. Rapunzel knows that move. It’s the same shrug he gave when she first asked him about his name that first night out of the tower. “I just reminded you to breathe and asked you some questions. You did all the heavy lifting there.”

There’s something that Eugene isn’t sharing, and though Rapunzel doesn’t want to pry, she’s not sure what it is he might be leaving out. “How did you know that would help?”

Eugene’s eyes flit up to meet hers. “Well, I, ah… I’ve had my own share of sudden, overwhelming bouts of anxiety. Breathing deeply and-and awareness to where you are in the present was, is, helpful to me.”

Rapunzel is quiet for a moment. That’s why he’d started asking her about colors in her room. It made her think about where she was, and take note of her surroundings. It had been… surprisingly effective. And a distraction from the torrent of thoughts in her mind.

Eugene dealt with that? On a regular basis?

Rapunzel opens her mouth to ask him about, but he speaks first. “Was it anything in particular that set it off?”

Rapunzel swallows. “I was thinking about the schedule today and… a dream I’d had last night.”

A crease appears between Eugene’s brows. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Rapunzel doesn’t know. She does know that she wants to talk to Eugene about what he just said, however. “Do you? I mean…. You deal with that? A lot?”

Eugene looks down as if embarrassed, and starts running his thumb along the inside of Rapunzel’s palm almost absent-mindedly. “I wouldn’t say a lot. Just sometimes. It’s gotten better recently, actually. But, y’know. A lifetime of being on the run is bound to cause some, ah… paranoia. Anxiety.”

“I didn’t know that,” Rapunzel says softly, feeling a twist of guilt. She should have known, right? Eugene helped her when she needed him and she hadn’t asked. How often had Eugene dealt with it and suffered through it alone?

Eugene huffs a soft laugh. “That’s because meeting you was a pretty big factor in easing it.” He pauses, glancing up at Rapunzel quickly before looking back down. “It still happens sometimes, like after the, ah… tower. Both times, I guess? That’s not important.” Eugene shakes his head quickly. “But I’ve gotten pretty good at managing it. And when it starts to get bad, I come find you.”

Rapunzel’s chest squeezes, but its with a warmth this time. “You do?”

“Of course I do,” Eugene says, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And hey, if you need someone to help you when it gets bad like this… you can come find me too.”

Rapunzel smiles. “We find each other.”

Eugene smiles right back at her, and the last of the tension uncoils from Rapunzel’s stomach. “Always.”

[hazbbyhaz]

sleepless || harry styles

twenty five

pairing: harry styles x OC

synopsis: the new girls first day

disclaimer: making fun of someone’s appearance

They slipped briskly into an intimacy from which they never recovered

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

Avery entered the small café shivering from head to toe. It was raining cats and dogs outside, the light jacket she had thrown on in a rush was completely soaked. As agreed upon the previous day, she arrived half an hour early to work. She could hear Tom's distant chatter as she made her way behind the counter.

"Avery, there you are!" With a smile on his face, Tom rushed from the back office to where Avery is standing. Avery took note of how nervous and jumpy he was, almost on edge, and only a mere second later she understood why. Standing only a few feet away from her was the new girl. She looks very pretty, with her hair tied up in a french braid, her minimalist clothes, and her pearly white teeth adorned in her smile, she was the poster for the cafe's target audience. Young, hopeful, and high off of the feeling of being alive.

"This is Sarah," Tom walks towards the girl and gently nudges her towards Avery. "today is her trial run for the job. If she does well, she will get the position." He continues and Avery can feel her body go into flight mode. The uncontrollable thoughts and racing heart only a second away from taking over. What if she doesn’t take me seriously? What if she is so good that Tom fires me? What if- all of those thoughts cease as she hears Harry’s voice ring through her head. You’re okay, Ave. With his words repeating in her head like a mantra, she smiles at Sarah, takes a deep breath, and lets those other thoughts go with her exhale.

"Hey, I'm Avery. It’s really nice to meet you!" She extends out her hand to the girl in front of her, focusing all her concentration on stopping its incessant shaking,but instead of Sarah returning the gesture, she simply looks at her outstretched hand before turning her attention back to Tom.

"So. how often would I be working?"

With a sigh, Tom runs a nervous hand through his already ruffled hair. "We'd have to figure that out. During the week, Monday and Tuesday are the busiest, so it would probably be best for you both to work together. On the weekend we will definitely need two sets of hands on deck. As for the rest of the week, we will have to work that out once we get everything set in stone.”

She nods, letting her eyes roam through the room before retreating back to his figure. She looked at him as if she were waiting for something, like she was executing him to say something more. "Right... so Avery will be the one showing you around this morning! I have to make a few phone calls before we open up for the day... Avery?"

"Let's begin the tour!" She murmurs quickly. Avery links her hands behind her back to hide their shaking that has yet to stop. Tom sends her a thankful smile and disappears into the back room, leaving Sarah and Avery to the day's task.

"So... uhm... the first thing done every morning is to set up the floor, we need to put the chairs down around the tables.” Avery explains, her voice breaking after every few words. “Our outdoor seating is stacked in the back since… as you probably know, it is winter…”

Sarah does not move to do anything, opting to watch Avery clumsily remove the chairs from the tables. The sounds of the chairs being put onto the ground was, unknowingly, making Avery jump "And then I put the menus on the table and a little candle cause uhm… it adds a nice, comforting touch."

"You're very jumpy" Sarah’s comment comes off cross. With her arms crossed tightly over her chest and the look of near disgust on her face, she continues to stare Avery down, demanding some type of explanation.

"Pardon?"

"You're like..." The brunette proceeds to pull her shoulders up, recreating Avery's uptight posture and her quivering hands. "and you speak too quietly. I really can't understand you when you don't speak up."

"Sorry..." Even with Sarah complaining about her quiet voice, her apology came out in a whisper. She hoped, more than anything, that the girl would stop mimicking her. She couldn't stand looking at it. She couldn't stand it because she knew that it was accurate. She knew that she really looked like that, she knew it, and even she hated looking at it. How could anyone stand to look at her when she can’t even look at herself?

"What did you say?"

"I'm sorry." She repeats, this time a bit louder. With a sudden wave of tears, her vision is becoming blurred, and her words are beginning to shake. She has not been picked apart like this in a long time.

"Are you gonna cry?" Sarah asks, brows raised and a devilish smirk on her face. What is she trying to do? Why is she talking to me like this?

“I'm not. " Avery quickly wipes her eyes before retreating behind the main counter, starting to turn on the various coffee machines and checking over their delivery reports.

"Aren’t you supposed to be explaining what you are doing? That’s what Tom said, anyway. " Sarah questions, sitting down on a bar stool in front of Avery, resting her elbows on the counter.

"I’m sorry, but I am not in the mood anymore," She continues to face away from the girl, focusing her attention on putting their baked goods into their display windows.

"Oh, is someone upset?"

"Please stop talking to me like that!" Avery exclaims, but her voice is still so frail that the message holds no confidence. It was more of a plea than a real request.

"I just think someone your age should be able to handle things better. No need to get upset over a simple comment." Sarah shrugs, but before she can say anything else Tom comes back with a confident smile on his face. Avery assumes that his call went well. She’s glad that something did.

"Alright girls, how is everything coming along?" His gaze switches between the two, Sarah has a beaming smile on her face while Avery’s eyes are so focused on a report that she is sure she could burn a hole straight through it.

"Great!” Sarah grins, gracefully standing up. "Avery and I get along great. I hope you consider for me this job, I really adore this little café."

"Oh well that's great!" Tom smiles. "I will get back to you soon about the position. Have a good day!"

"Thank you so much! You both have a great day yourselves!" Sarah grins, shaking his hand. "It was really nice to meet you, Avery." She adds before grabbing her umbrella and walking out into the rain.

"So, what do you think? Did she get the hang of everything?" Tom asks, taking over Sarah's place and sitting down on one of the bar stools.

"She's really great, Tom." Avery could hear the hesitancy in her lie, but she was glad that Tom did not pick up on it.

"Great."

"One bite" Harry argues, taking the pizza piece out of the cardboard box and holding it out to Avery just to see her shake her head.

"I'm not hungry, Harry" She murmurs , sipping instead a bit of her peppermint tea and leaning back into the cushions of the sofa. The small lie fell from her lips without a second thought, but Harry noticed it right as the words hit his ears.

Seconds after her shift ended at the cafe, Avery was rushing out the door. More than eager to retreat back to the safety of her flat. She hadn't been settled for more than a minute before Harry was knocking on her door. The unannounced visitor had her on edge, but opening the door to his calming figure holding a pizza box was a nice surprise.

"You need to eat something, Ave" He sighs, placing the piece back in the carton before sitting down next to her. The first thing Harry noticed after arriving at her flat was her demeanor. Her spirits seemed dimmed, her hands shakier than he liked, all the light had vanished from her eyes. Their dullness and pale tone of her skin made her look like that of a ghost.

At the party she had seemed fine, tired yes, but overall okay, and now she looked far from it. Harry immediately regrets the cup of coffee he brewed her the previous night, he had helped her with avoiding sleep. feeding into the problem that is so desperate for a solution.

"When was the last time you got a few decent hours of sleep?" He asks quietly.

"I'm not going to sleep," Harry reaches his arm towards her, trying to ground her, but she rose up from her spot on the couch too soon. His arm falling back to his side. He watched as she collected empty teacups, their saucers, and put them into the sink. As the faucet was turned on, sponge lathered in soap, Harry made his way to Avery's side.

"You need to sleep," He sighs, carefully placing a hand on her arm in an attempt to lead her away from the dishes.

"You look sick, love."

"I can't," She shakes his hand off, stepping back towards the sink. In a drowsy haze, she stumbled over her sock clad feet, almost hitting her head on the counter. Before she can comprehend what has happened, two arms lace themselves around her waist, gently pulling her into the safety of a warm chest. "please just leave. I’ll be okay."

Her pleas are softly shushed, Harry gently swaying them from side to side. With her back to his chest, Avery clings to his arms, her head falling to his shoulder.

"Look at me please...." His whispered request brings tears to Avery's tired eyes. She's too scared to look at him. To let him see her like this. She knows that once he looks at her he will insist on sleep. Part of her wants him to leave, solely because she won’t have to rest. So she can clean the few dishes in the sink, listen to the quiet murmurs of the TV set, and let her tears run freely. But she can’t, she knows that.

Harry can sense her quiet contemplation, so he gently turns her around, puts both his hands at the side of her face, making her look at him. His thumbs caressing the soft skin of her cheeks.

"I'll be right here next to you, okay? As soon as I notice there's something wrong I'll wake you up. I promise."

"You don't get it."

"No, I don't, but I'm trying. I just want to help you, Ave. This is not how you should deal with this... this is not how you should deal with your sadness." Harry whispers, pushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She looks shocked at his words, their honesty too loud to ignore.

"I'm not sad, not always."

"I know." He places a kiss on her forehead before pulling her small frame to his chest, still swaying.

"I don't want you to leave, Harry" Her arms tighten around him. "I didn't mean to say that."

"It's okay, we're fine."

Avery is the first to step back, glancing over the kitchen before grabbing Harry’s hand. She leads him over to the untuned piano, silently signalling for him to sit on the bench before laying across it herself, resting her head in his lap.

"Before we go to bed can you play me something on the piano? please?"

He smiles down at her, her tone holding a sense of innocence he had never heard from her before. One he assumes was taken away far too early.

"What song do you fancy hearing this late at night?"

"Anything you like, but with lyrics, please. I like your singing voice."

"I think that can be arranged."

As his fingers card over the keys so effortlessly, Avery blocks out all thoughts. Her mind free from any fear, any worry. Her only focus being his voice.

Today I met a woman, I don’t think you know...

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[candychronicles]

A little bit of love

hello dear friends! it’s been quite a stressful day for me and a lot of other people in the tumblr community for various reasons, so i felt it was imperative to write a little bit of comfort from some of our favorite characters. i got this lovely idea from the amazing @adoringwords​ pls follow if you don’t already hehe so thank you to evy!! hope you can all find a bit of solace in these words and feel a little more comfortable tonight.

TAGS: @katsukisprincess​ @togasknifes​ @redbeanteax​ @jojosmilktea​ @bratwritings​

a soft huff left your lips as you wearily dropped your bag on the floor, kicking off your shoes and half-hazardly flinging your coat on the rack. life had been kicking your ass and you weren’t quite sure what to do about it. stress, anxiety and sadness weighed heavily on your shoulders and you were drowning in your feelings. 

---

Sero Hanta

“babe?” a soft voice called out from the living room.

“hey,” you wearily replied, walking over and dramatically flopping yourself on Sero’s lap.

his hands immediately came up to your hair, running his long, slender fingers through it. he wasn’t sure what was going on and wasn’t really sure what to say either, but he could feel the tension slowly leave your body as you leaned yourself into his touch, eyes fluttering in relief. he continued his motions with one hand while another came to rub at your shoulder, your arms, your sides, simply trying to help and ease you even more.

“thank you,” you replied softly, humming in approval. despite the stresses of the day, you knew that your boyfriend would always find a way to make you feel better.

“anytime,” he whispered back, smiling down at your frame, heart bursting out of his chest. he wasn’t the best with words at times like this but he wanted to always make sure you knew you were loved and would have someone there to make you feel better.

Shinsou Hitoshi

Shinsou appeared in front of you, a frown on his face, lilac eyes attempting to peer into your own but your head was hung in pure exhaustion. a soft tsk left his lips as he crouched down, finally catching your eyes with his own. there was nothing but concern laced on his face, a small tilt to his head as he silently questioned what was wrong.

“‘Toshi,” you whimpered, chin wobbling as you tried not to cry in front of your love.

he immediately stood up, wrapping your shaking frame with his own, holding you close, chin on the top of your head, encouraging you to let it all out. it started with small hiccups but soon turned into great big heaves as you sobbed into his chest. he softly stroked your hair, kissed your head, held you close, anything he could do to give you some bit of comfort.

“i’m not sure what happened love, but i’m here for you. please know that i won’t ever let you be alone in these trying times. always come to me when you’re feeling down. you’re never a burden and i want to help you,” he murmured in your ear, reassuring you more than anything that he was there for you and not ever going to leave you alone.

Mirio Togata

“y/n?” Togata questioned with an unusual frown on his face, hands placed on his hips, assessing the situation.

“it’s nothing Mirio, just, not feeling good today,” you admitted half-handedly, not wanting to bother your boyfriend, especially knowing he dealt with a lot more stress than you on a daily bases.

“well you’re not feeling well, so that is something!” he exclaimed, not taking your nonchalance to heart and instead scooping you up with his arms, body cradled to his warm chest.

you squeaked as he effortlessly picked you up and placed you gently on the couch in the living room, bundling you in a blanket and promising a quick return with a small peck on your forehead.

moments had passed as you stared blankly ahead, but suddenly, your lover had returned, a smile on his face and a pile of drinks and snacks in his hand. he turned on the tv to your favorite Disney movie, snuggled in the blanket with you and, throughout the night, fed you your favorite snacks and drinks.

“thanks Mirio, i really needed this,” you admitted, smiling as you snuggled into his side more.

“of course love! i am always here to help!”

Tamaki Amajiki

you heard no one in the apartment, so you made your way towards the bedroom, being stopped as Tamaki walked out and bumped into you, surprise written on both of your faces.

“welcome home bunny,” he greeted, reaching forward to caress your cheek, frowning when he noticed the blank look on your eyes.

“a-are you okay?” he asked, internally slapping himself for even asking knowing full well that something was wrong.

“everything sucks,” you admitted bluntly, attempting to sneak past him into the bedroom. 

you honestly just wanted to sleep your problems away and certainly didn’t want to bring Tamaki into the situation but you also knew you couldn’t lie to him. you were almost to the bed when a gentle grab of your arm stopped you.

“(y/n),” Tamaki started, turning you around and gently pulling you to his chest, kissing the top of your forehead, his body shakier than yours, clearly upset that you were sad. “let’s take a nap, yeah? and then we can maybe get some takeout s-snuggle some more, please?”

you responded wordlessly, slipping out of his grasp and moving back towards the bed. Tamaki beat you to it, pulling back the covers, helping you out of your daily clothes and into some pjs, tucking you into the bed before practically sprinting to the other side, slipping under the covers himself and drawing you to his side, wrapping his gangly frame around your body, essentially acting like a second blanket. 

his warm body and slow, even breaths lulled you into a comfortable sleep and Tamaki verbally sighed, happy that you were, even if it was only for the moment, at peace.

Eijiro Kirishima

“hi babe! i made some cookies for today! would you like…” he trailed off, noticing your jutting lip and clenched jaw.

“aw babe, no i’m sorry! if you don’t want one you don’t have to have one!” he exclaimed, frantically waving his hands, attempting to hide the food from your sight.

you continued to watch the scene unfold, your hold on your emotions weakening before you dropped to your knees. well, you almost dropped, but strong arms wrapped around your body before you got a chance to fall, gently pulling you to the floor, rocking you back and forth.

“that isn’t about the cookies, huh?” Kirishima joked, sniffling with you, attempting to hold back his own tears. 

seeing you in so much pain took a real toll on him, too, but he would never tell you, wanting to simply comfort you. he just loved you so damn much that he felt your pain. 

for what seemed like hours but was really just a few minutes, the two of you rocked on the floor, Kirishima cradling your body with his own, his soft words of love and encouragement bringing you down to a sniffle. 

“do you want to talk about it?” he asked, pulling his head away from your own and looking at you with a toothy grin.

“no, i think i’m okay, but i would like a cookie now, please.”

Kirishima, without warning, scooped you off the ground, setting you on the counter and pulled the cookies out, placing the whole plate in front of you. if cookies were what you needed, he would feed you the whole damn pile and more. anything to make you happy.

Denki Kaminari

you heard the sounds of video games being played in the living room, soft cheers and curses from Kaminari as he played. you attempted to sneak behind him into the bedroom but tripped over his shoes that were strewn about, falling to the floor with a thud, blinking owlishly as you tried to understand what was going on.

all the frustrations of the day caught up with you and, without even realizing it, you began to cry, throwing the shoes at what you thought was the wall but really was your boyfriend who came out to see what was going on.

“whoa, babe, i’m sorry, did my shoes make you trip? oh shit, oh shit, oh shit…” he rambled, seeing you on the floor, crying, hands and knees red from catching your fall. 

he ran over to you, almost tripping himself, scooping you in his arms, apologizing over and over again about the shoes, not understanding what was going on but not wanting to leave you to cry alone.

“it’s not about your stupid shoes Denki,” you cried, pushing him away, frustration evident in your voice. he moved away, sitting crossed legged away from you, panic evident on his face. “it’s just, everything. i’m so tired, i don’t know what to do, but i’m not happy right now.”

“oh baby, fuck, and i just made it worse. i’m so sorry. here, c’mon, come lay with me,” he cooed, helping you up off the floor and to the couch.

your head laid gently on his legs, blanket wrapped tightly around his body, as he began playing video games, explaining the situation to you, making funny commentary and even helping you learn, cheering you on every time you did something good and encouraging you when you were struggling. 

after a few hours, you two were sitting side by side, elbows bumping, competitively playing, lost in your own world, laughing and crying and screaming, letting your emotions out in a healthy way.

“i’m so proud of you babe!” Kaminari exclaimed after you finally managed to beat him, reaching up to give you a high five. “and not just because of the game. you’re so amazing and smart and i’m so happy to be with you. i’m sorry i’m not the best with words but i hope i helped you at least a little bit today.”

“you did Denki, you really did, so thank you so much. now stop changing the subject. i wanna play again, and i’ll beat you yet again!”

Bakugou Katsuki

“oi, quit making a racket out there, i’m trying to focus!” Bakugou called from the kitchen, presumably working on something important.

when he didn’t hear you yell something back to him, he cocked his head, confused, and scooted his chair out, walking out to investigate what was going on. he didn’t see you by the front door and that only confused him more. soft shuffling could be heard from the bedroom so he made his way towards the door, busting it open and seeing nothing.

“where the hell are you?” he asked, turning on the light and seeing a lump under the comfort, the bed softly shaking as you attempted to stop crying.

Bakugou sighed, heart breaking at the sight, feeling mad at himself for yelling at you earlier. he moved towards the bed, flinching as he saw you curl into yourself, pulling the blankets tighter around your body.

“shitty woman, let me in. i’m cuddling you,” he stated matter-of-fact, pulling the blanket out from under your body, wrapping his arms around you and dragging you close to him, a sigh once again leaving his lips.

“why didn’t you come and talk to me?”

“you sounded busy. i didn’t want to bother you,” you admitted, hiccuping as you attempted to catch your breath from crying.

“i know i act like an ass sometimes, but i want, no i need, you to know that you are more important than some stupid paperwork and i absolutely want you to bother me over that. do you understand? don’t come hide in here, i’m here to make you feel better, okay?”

“o-okay,” you cried, turning around and nuzzling your face into his neck, inhaling his caramel scent and instantly calming down.

“i love you, you dumbass, i really love you,” Bakugou admitted, kissing the top of your head and squeezing you tighter, signaling that he was not going to let you leave this bed anytime soon.

Izuku Midoriya

you grabbed the side of the wall, steadying yourself and breathing deeply, preparing to enter the house and face the ever cheery Midoriya. you knew even one ounce of sadness and he would pounce on you like a mother hen and, while that was probably what you needed, that was not what your boyfriend deserved, knowing he has his own stressful days often. you always kissed his scars, ran your fingers through his hair, did everything you could to make him feel good, and you needed to be able to do that today, no matter how you were feeling.

that plan went out the window, however, as you walked into the house, Midoriya instantly walking over to grab your face in his hands and reaching forward to plant a kiss to your lips.

“what’s wrong, my love?” he asked, eyes wide with concern, glassy from trying to hold back his own tears. 

“Izuku, it’s nothing, really. how was your day?” you asked, putting on a fake smile, hoping that you would be able to trick him.

“my day was just fine, so don’t worry about me, okay? let me take care of you today.”

you sighed, shoulders sagging as you let go of the brave face, tears pricking the corners of your eyes. Izuku led you into the kitchen and helped you sit down, bringing you a cup of water and some food, watching to make sure you ate and drank something. once you were done and dishes were in the sink, he brought you into the bathroom, setting up a warm bath for you and leaving you to relax. 

when you padded into the bedroom, adorned in a fluffy robe and silky pjs, Midoriya had soft music playing, sweet smelling candles and thick blankets all set up. he sat at the side of the bed, eyes hopeful and pleading, arms outstretched as he silently asked you to join him. you melted into his arms, limbs meshing together as you found a comfy cuddling position, a huff leaving your lips as you finally relaxed.

“thank you ‘Zuku,” you whispered into his chest, squeezing him tightly in a hug.

“you do so much for me (y/n), i wish i could repay you for everything you have ever done. i will go to the ends of the earth just to make you happy. i love you so much.”

Shouto Todoroki

you sighed, tension gripping your body, stiffly moving to the couch and sitting down next to Todoroki in the living room with a huff.

“what’s wrong?” he asked simply, turning so he sat cross legged on the couch, motioning for you to move and join him.

when you were resituated, you sighed once more, going into detail about everything you were feeling. you didn’t hold back on any detail, tears coming and going, a wide range of emotions flitting between your face, from sadness, to anger, to confusion, to defeat. through it all, Todoroki sat and listened, eyes never leaving yours, hands gripping your own, soothing circles being rubbed into them with his thumbs.

when you were done, he removed one of his hands from your lap and wiped your tears away, finally cupping your face and leaning in for a long and soft kiss, bringing your breathing down to a normal pace, your heart racing from love, not anxiety. 

“what can i do to help you?” he asked once he pulled away, his hand staying on your cheek, other squeezing your hand in encouragement.

you blinked once, twice, three times. your brain simply couldn’t process the fact that you had such a wonderfully loving person in your life who just wanted to take care of you and help you.

“you’ve done so much just by listening. can we just eat and relax tonight? i know you’re really busy and if…” you began rambling, being cut off once again by a pair of lips on your own.

he pulled away, eyes twinkling in mischief. “i’ll order your favorite food and we’ll stay in tonight and eat on the couch. you can keep talking to me about your feelings all night if you want. i’m here for you and i’m going to make sure you feel better. don’t worry about my schedule. nothing is more important than making you feel better right now.”

[stellarstarwarsimagines]

75 and 94 with Sith Anakin :)

Thank you so much for requesting this because this has to be one of my favorite Anakin stories I’ve ever written. It’s super sad, but I still hope you enjoy! :D

This was not how you wanted today to go. It wasn’t supposed to be a difficult mission. Get the supplies, and get out. Was it a dangerous place? Of course, but everything was these days with the Empire marking their territory wherever they went. But never in your wildest dreams had you expected there to be Inquisitors hiding there, and never had you expected to have to deal with two. As good of a Jedi as Ezra was becoming, he wasn’t able to take on one by himself yet, and you had done the best you could to make sure he was out of harm’s way before surrendering. 

You knew Kanan would kill you for it if you ever saw him again, but you cared more about Ezra staying alive than getting killed yourself. 

They had stripped you of your lightsaber and cuffed you, leading you to a star cruiser that they mentioned belonged to Lord Vader. They seemed to enjoy talking about what he was going to do to you, and how they hoped they would get to watch.  

Having heard of Lord Vader, the atrocities he had done, the only thing you could do was hope that you could find a way to annoy him enough to make your death as quick and as painless as possible. After all, you didn’t fear death anymore. 

Not when it would bring you back to the love of your life. 

You showed no resistance as you were shoved into an interrogation chair and strapped in, all fight drained out of your body. What was the point? Unless the Ghost Crew could pull off another miracle, you were about to die. You just had to make sure you didn’t give up any Rebellion secrets while you were doing so. 

Eventually the two Inquisitors left you with your thoughts, and you took this moment to close your eyes in meditation, saying a final goodbye to those you loved. Obi-Wan, your oldest friend who had saved your life more times than you could count, Ahsoka, the girl you had watched become a warrior with the kindest heart you knew, Rex and Rutt, the two clones who had laid down their lives for you. Then there was the newest, but some of the most important members of your family. Hera, the sister you never knew you needed, Zeb who always could make you smile no matter what the situation, Sabine, the selfless and talented woman who always put others first, Ezra, the young and incredible Jedi you had been helping to train, and then there was Kanan. Sweet, amazing, Kanan who had done more for you in the past few years than you could remember. 

A tear dripped down your face as you could almost feel the man through the Force, a flicker of anxiety and turmoil from miles and miles away. You knew he wouldn’t want you to give up, you knew he would try to save you, but if it was time . . . It was time. 

Your only regret was knowing that you were leaving behind the most important -

You heard him before you saw him, his boots were heavy on the shining black floor. The darkness surrounding the man in the Force was suffocating, and you dropped your head, trying not to drown in it. “A Jedi, surrendering . . . I never would have expected it.” Was all he said from behind you, the voice diluted with a modulator from the mask you knew he wore. 

“What did you expect? Me to let you kill my friend? I suppose that’s what the Empire would do.” You responded, your voice shakier than you would have liked. 

He chose to ignore your words, his footsteps pacing back and forth behind you, allowing you just a glimpse of black and the silver flash of your lightsaber in his hands. “Where did you get this lightsaber?” Vader asked. 

Was that the question that he wanted to open with? You would have assumed there would have been some threatening, the usual, tell me what you know about the rebellion, where is the secret base, blah, blah, blah. Not where you got your lightsaber. After all, that answer was so obvious you didn’t feel the need to respond. 

“Do I need to repeat my question?” Vader asked once more, his voice calm, and didn’t even give you a chance to respond to him. You felt a pressure around your throat, growing stronger with every passing moment until you couldn’t get any air into your lungs. You started coughing, your hands trying to fly to your throat, but unable to strapped down at your sides. Tears of panic formed in your eyes as you struggled against an unforeseen force, but then as quickly as it had arrived, it was gone, leaving you gasping for air. “Where did you get this lightsaber?” 

You were scared. You hated to admit it, you knew that Jedi weren’t supposed to feel it, but you were. The darkness Vader seemed to emit almost smothered you in your entirety. You had never felt someone so dark, and your fear, as it always had when it reared its ugly head, made you lash out. “Where do you think I got it? A market? I made it! Went to Ilum, found a crystal, constructed it myself -” You choked out before he interrupted you. 

“You’re lying!” The sudden burst of emotion in his voice shocked you. From what you had heard about Vader he was always calm, precise, even when he was in the midst of torturing someone. “I know the woman who made this, and she is dead!” 

“Oh, so I’m dead? Good to know. It’ll save us a lot of trouble here then won’t -”

You felt a hand grip your hair, tugging it up sharply until you were face to face with the mask Vader hid behind, and in that moment . . . something changed. 

The dark, terrifying, intimidating, Darth Vader gasped out your name in a low, weak voice and collapsed to his knees in front of you. 

This version of Vader frightened you even more than the one you had seen earlier. “W-what are you doing?” 

He didn’t answer you. For several moments, he stared at you through those black lenses, and you wondered how he could even see you through them. You knew he was though. You could feel his gaze piercing your skin like a glacier, sending chills all the way from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. You didn’t want to look at him any longer, hating the way it made you feel, and that was when his head dropped. You watched him with confused eyes as his gloved hands went to his helmet and began to lift it off, something you knew he never did, to reveal a head of dirty blonde waves, the ends of them brushing the shoulders of his dark robes. 

Then, he lifted his head, and you were met with achingly familiar eyes, even with their change of color. 

That was when the fragile pieces of your life came crashing down around you. For several years now, all you had ever been sure of, was that Anakin Skywalker was dead. Your Force connection with him had been so strong. It was the only explanation for it blinking out of existence the way it had, ripping what felt like a part of your soul along with it. Obi-Wan had told you that he was dead. That the Emperor had killed him. 

Yet here he sat, on his knees in front of you, looking as fragile and distraught as you felt. You had stared into that handsome face too many times to confuse it with anyone else. You knew every single inch of that man, he had been seared into your memory, and there was no doubt in your mind that despite everything you believed, it was Anakin in front of you. 

“The Emperor . . . he told me that you were dead. That Obi-Wan had killed you.” His gloved hand went to your cheek, touching you as if you were made of glass. “If I had known . . .” 

His touch, something that you had longed for, dreamed of for so long, tore you apart. It couldn’t be real. It couldn’t be happening no matter what you were seeing. Was Vader putting these thoughts in your head somehow? There were three people in the whole universe who knew how deep and strong you and Anakin’s love had been. How could he have found out something so personal to torture you with? Because that’s what this was, the deepest torture you had ever had to endure, and you knew, if Vader kept this vision going he could get whatever he wanted from you. As long as he let you stay here with Anakin. Tears started filling your eyes once more as you looked at him, his face even more vibrant than it was in your memories. “I wish this was real,” you whimpered, your fingers itching to touch him, but unable to in your secured state. Instead you leaned into his touch, nuzzling against his gloved palm. “All I’ve ever wanted was to see you once last time.” 

Then something incredible happened. Anakin reached out, and undid your restraints, catching you in his arms as you collapsed. “This is real! I am real!” He said, squeezing you so tight in his arms he could have broken your ribs, but you didn’t care because it felt so good. You were right back where you belonged, safe, comfortable and free in Anakin’s arms. 

Free . . . 

He had let you out of your straps. Vader never would have let that happen, even in a vision. It would be too dangerous. Your eyes shifted to the helmet that lay at Anakin’s side, and your world collapsed once more. “No . . .” You murmured, shaking your head. “Please no, no, no,” you murmured the word over and over again, tears dripping down your face in a stream as your hand reached for the helmet, holding the cold metal in your hand. You pulled back enough to look into those eyes, those red and orange eyes that now seemed so different. “Anakin, please tell me you’re not Vader. Tell me you’re not the one -”

“It doesn’t matter,” His hands cupped your cheeks, forcing you to look at him. “It doesn’t matter, don’t you see? You’re alive, and now we can put everything behind us! We can do what we always dreamed of doing -”

There was so much desperation in his voice you felt your heart shattering again. It was too much, trying to reconcile the man you grew up with, the man you loved, with all the things that you knew Vader had done. “You’ve killed so many . . . Killed Jedi . . . People we knew . . . destroyed villages . . .” You couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. Your emotions were drowning you, burying you underwater with each and every new atrocity that you remembered Vader had committed and bringing you to a conclusion that left a giant, gaping wound in your chest. “Anakin, you’ve become a -”

“No!” The anger and frustration in his voice had you cringing. “Don’t you understand?! I had nothing! Ahsoka was gone, Obi-Wan was gone, you were gone! What was I supposed to do?” 

“Not turn to the dark side! Anakin, you’re breaking my heart all over again . . . How could you do those things?” You sobbed, trying to pull away from him when every bone in your body craved to keep being held by him. 

His grip became tighter, crushing you to his chest. “You were dead, and it was the Jedi’s fault. They deserved everything they got.” 

His words shook you more than anything else he had said. He had done all this . . . Because of you? He had turned to the dark side, destroyed villages, people, tortured hundreds . . . because he thought you were dead. 

Despair ripped through your body, as you came to the realization that all of this was your fault. If only you hadn’t believed Obi-Wan when he told you Anakin was dead. If you had gone looking for him yourself instead of escaping to Tatooine to hide from the Empire, none of this might have happened. “But I’m not dead, Anakin . . . I never was.” You looked up once more, meeting his gaze through your tears. “What other lies has the Emperor been telling you?” 

You watched as he absorbed your words, but his face was unreadable. 

“Lord Vader!” A panicked voice broke through the bubble the two of you had created and you flinched as Anakin’s hand shot out and sent the intruder flying backwards against the wall and pinned him there. 

“What do you want?” Anakin hissed at him from behind the chair, and it was then that you realized why he had pushed the guard back in the first place. He hadn’t wanted him to see the two of you. 

“Rebels!” The man croaked out, and you glanced over to find Anakin’s hand clenched in a fist, choking the man the same way he had done you. As soon as Anakin saw where your gaze had gone, his fist immediately uncurled. “There are Rebels on the ship. They’re trying to take the bridge!” 

You couldn’t even be grateful. You knew who it was. Kanan’s Force presence was getting stronger with every few seconds that passed, but all you could feel was pain, and not just your own either, now that you knew Anakin was alive, you could feel him. Not like earlier, when you had both been Jedi, the dark side shrouded him in too much blackness for that, but you could feel something . . . pain and confusion that echoed yours. “Stay here.” He instructed you, reaching for his mask. 

You grasped at his arm, stopping him. “Ani,” you gasped out, the first time the nickname had been directed at him in years made him stiffen. “Please don’t. Please. I’m begging you not to hurt them. They’re trying to save me, that’s it.” 

Anakin stared at you and for a moment his gaze softened, but as soon as you had seen it, it vanished again. “You have always been mine. I’m not going to let them take you away from me again.” Anakin leaned forward and you shivered as you felt those soft, familiar lips press against your forehead. “I’ve lost everything. Now that I know you’re alive, I won’t lose you too.” 

He stood up, pulling away from you, and placing the mask back on his beautiful face. “You were always mine too, Ani . . . Can you still say that?” You whispered to him. 

Anakin didn’t respond, merely stood there and stared down at you for a moment before leaving you, shutting the door behind him. 

You collapsed onto the cold, unforgiving floor, you fist hitting it as you screamed and sobbed out your pain. Never had you realized how cruel fate could be. First it had tortured you with his death, and now it had done something even worse. To have him dangling in front of you to snatch him away again was pure torture. It seemed as if you had now lost him even more than you had all those years ago. You were so lost in your own grief you didn’t hear the door opening, didn’t hear the call of your name until you were hauled off the ground and upright. “It’s me! It’s me! We’ve got to get you out of here!” The familiar voice said, shaking you somewhat to grab your attention. 

Finally, your vision cleared enough, and you saw the man crouched in front of you, concern in every line of his face. “Kanan . . .” You gasped out, flinging your arms around his neck. “Please, please get me out of here.” You pleaded, clinging to him as if he was your lifeline. 

“Hey, it’s okay,” You heard him say, gripping you tightly in his arms. “We’ll get you out of here. The Ghost is waiting.” And without another word, the man lifted you up into his arms as if you weighed nothing. “Sabine! Clear a path!” He called out to the woman you hadn’t even noticed. 

Relief filled your body for the briefest moment until you remembered something. If Kanan and Sabine were here . . . “Who’s on the Bridge, Kanan?! He’s going after them! They’ve got to get out of there!” You almost screamed in panic, flailing for a moment as you tried to get out of his arms. 

“Nobody!” He tightened his grip on you. “It’s R4 and Chopper! They made a distraction, and then they went back to the ship. Everyone’s safe, we’ve just got to get you out of here.” 

You collapsed against him in relief, burying your face in his shirt as you clung to him and closed your eyes. You didn’t want to see anything. You didn’t want to risk seeing him because you knew he must have felt you leaving. Your suspicions were confirmed as Kanan ran up the ramp to the Ghost and it began to close as soon as you were all clear. 

He screamed your name, loud and broken through the Force, and it forced your eyes open, staring into those black lenses from across the ship once more until the ramp blocked your view and Hera shot the ship into hyperspace. 

Kanan had heard it too. In fact, Ezra, who had joined the two of you, was covering his ears. “What the hell was that?” He asked, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him, all you did was hold on to Kanan, burying your face in his shoulder as more tears fell down your cheeks. 

Never had you felt so broken, so tortured, so weak. You had been crushed by everything that had occurred, and you had no idea what to do about it. The only thing that managed to pull you out was a fragile voice. “Mom?” 

You lifted your head from Kanan’s shoulder, shock filling your eyes. “What are you doing here?!” You made Kanan put you down, running over to the little boy and gripping his shoulders, checking him over for any injuries. 

“He stowed away.” Kanan answered you. “He overheard that you were kidnapped and wanted to make sure you got home. We never let him out of the ship though, I promise.” He assured you. 

“Who was that man? That was screaming at you? I felt weird when I saw him . . .” 

Leaning forward, you pressed your forehead against your son’s for a moment, and then pulled back, looking into those familiar blue eyes that you had seen the dark version of moments earlier. “Don’t worry about it, Ani. Why don’t you go with Uncle Ezra for a bit. You two can practice lifting stuff, okay?” 

Anakin nodded, concern still on his little face, but he allowed Ezra to lead him back up the ladder. You brushed your tears away as you watched them go, turning back to Kanan when you felt his warm hand on your shoulder. “I’ve never seen you like that before . . . What did Vader do to you?” 

You placed your hand on top of his, giving it a squeeze. “I’ll tell you later, but first we’ve got to get back to base. I’ve got to talk to Ahsoka.”

[motherjoel]

fine line series (spencer reid x reader)

part 3/3: fine line

summary: you and spencer are having a hard time staying apart from one another

a/n: woohoo! the last part! thank you guys so much for reading this, i had a blast writing! once again, i recommend listening to the song just cause it helps with the mood i was going for haha (but you dont have to)

wc: 1.6k

part 1, part 2

-

we’ll be alright

-

Another week had passed since you’d cried to Emily and JJ in the bathroom and you didn’t feel any better- you felt worse. You couldn’t help but think that if Spence could smile to you after everything that happened, he had to be okay. You were not okay. 

On one fateful night, not even the Gilmore Girls marathon you had going could brighten your mood. It was one of your bad days- the days where you got no peace and no sleep. You longed for those moments in the morning where it was too early to think. Those moments where your mind was still in a sleepy haze and the weight of the world had yet to inflict its pain on your shoulders. This morning, that moment had lasted mere seconds. 

It was a paperwork day today, so you luckily didn’t have to interact with him. If you saw him getting coffee, you knew where not to go. For some reason, you thought that limiting your interactions would lessen the pain, when in reality it only fueled the fire in your heart. On days like these, not even paperwork was enough to take your mind off of your life- you weren’t hoping for a murder, but a case would definitely be more distracting. You didn’t want to go home alone again to your empty apartment, but you had no other choice.

So here you were, phone in your hand for the millionth time this week, finger lingering over the call button. You paused the TV and hit call before you could stop yourself, anxiety peaking with each ring. You cursed yourself for calling, but hanging up seemed like a bad idea, so you sat there, paralyzed. After a moment, the call went to voicemail. You considered hanging up, but the embarrassment from leaving a message was better than the loneliness of sitting in silence. So, you did.

“Hi Spence. It’s me. I’m sorry for doing this, gosh this is really unlike me,” you laughed at the ridiculousness of the situation. “I was thinking today. About loneliness. And, how I'm experiencing a great deal of it recently,” you confessed, wiping a tear from your cheek. You couldn’t hang up now, so you continued. “They always show on TV that people normally call their best friends when they're sad after a breakup- I guess people in real life do that too. But… but what do you do when you break up with your b-best friend?” you asked, audibly sobbing now. You tried to even out your breathing. “I just- I can’t do this without you anymore Spence. We were real. You were it for me, and… and I think I ruined it. Please, just come over. I need my best friend. I need to know that we’ll be alright. I just, I need to know,” you begged. After a moment you gasped and hung up, as if you just realized what you had said. 

You set your phone down and put it on silent before turning the TV back on. After your confession, you felt oddly relaxed. Like everything was out of your hands now. You relaxed so much so that you were finally able to drift off to sleep on your couch.

-

You woke with a start to banging on your door. Checking your phone, you saw it was 1 AM. Who in the hell would be bothering you at this time? Grabbing your gun from the coffee table, you inched over the door and looked through the peephole. Spencer Reid, in all his glory, stood outside your door with messy hair and a worried expression plastered on that beautiful face of his. You set down your gun and composed yourself before opening the door. He looked up from wringing his hands and took in your appearance: puffy eyes, messy hair, and tear stained cheeks. To him, you were beautiful.

“Y/N, I need you to know something,” he started, trying not to fidget. You nodded, urging him to continue. “My entire life, I never knew I was capable of feeling so deeply for someone. I felt like… a loser,” he choked out. You wanted to reach out and hug him, but you refrained. “Morgan took me to a club tonight to try to make me feel better, I guess. But you know how I feel about clubs… So I went to the bathroom to see I had a missed call from you,” he continued talking with his hands, visibly nervous. You thought back to the call and blushed, remembering your confession.

“Y/N, my heart shattered hearing you like that. It wasn’t until 20 minutes ago that I realized why I felt so completely empty these past few weeks- I lost my best friend, too,” he said with tears brimming in his eyes, his hands getting shakier. “I saw you that day, you know,” he said. You furrowed your brows. “After you cried. I saw you hug Rossi and fix your makeup, and I saw you put down that picture of us. My favorite picture of us,” he confessed, tears were now rolling down his face and you could feel your heart stutter. “We were so happy that day, and if I leave you now, I know that I’ll never be that happy again and I can’t do that, Y/N. I can’t.” You stood in awe, not sure if he was finished. He was not.

“When you asked me to come over, I obviously had to. Because my best friend needed me. So, I’d like to be your best friend,” he paused, looking for something in your eyes. You were deep in thought, so he continued. “It’s up to you if you want to be more, but just being your friend is enough. For now,” he finished, not bothering to wipe his tear streaked face. You both stood, motionless for a few moments.

You realized you had been crying the entire time he was talking. It took one step towards him for you both to embrace, as if it was on instinct. You had never hugged anyone tighter, with more passion and love, in your entire life- it said a thousand words. You cried into his chest and he stroked your tangled hair, and everything was right. You cried and he cried, and you finally felt in sync again.

“We’ll be alright,” he whispered in your ear, over and over again like a mantra. 

-

Two years had passed since the worst few weeks of your life, and Spencer spent the entire time proving to you how worthy he was of loving. He was right- you would be alright. And as you walked down the aisle on your wedding day in the dress you had picked out with your best friends and maids of honor (you couldn’t choose between Penelope, Emily and JJ so they agreed to share the title), you felt more than alright. At the end of the aisle was your soon to be husband, who was totally not crying, as well as Hotch, Rossi, and Derek (the best man). They were all trying to be as macho as possible, but their eyes were glassy. 

You said your vows, promising devotion to each other, and kissed like it was your last. The cheers from your friends and family rang out in the church, but you could barely hear it over the blood pumping in your ears. You were marrying the man you loved, the man who was looking at you right now like you were the last woman on earth. 

-

Your reception was held at the Rossi mansion, as per his request. You couldn't say no to him- it saved money and he was one hell of a host. The music consisted of a mixture between Frank Sinatra and a few modern requests by Garcia, and you couldn’t ask for anything better. You took turns dancing with everyone, Rossi was first to take your hand.

“I knew you two kids would make it,” he says, the two of you swaying to “Fly Me to the Moon.” You looked over his shoulder to make eye contact with Spencer, who was dancing with your mother (who was holding him a little too close for comfort). He widened his eyes and jokingly mouthed “help”. You smiled and returned your focus to your dance partner.

“Me too,” you told him as the song finished. You danced with Morgan next, who was surprisingly emotional.

“You look beautiful, princess,” he told you as you danced.

“Thank you Derek,” you blushed. “You don’t look half bad yourself,” you smiled.

“I should’ve snatched you up when I had the chance,” he joked in your ear. You laughed and swatted his arm- you knew he was kidding, and you were glad you could joke about it now.

You made your rotation through the whole team before you made it back to your husband.

“May I have this dance, Mrs. Reid?” he asked, cheesily holding out his hand.

“Why, yes Dr. Reid, you may,” you laughed, taking his hand and beginning to waltz. You wordlessly swayed for a few minutes, bodies impossibly close together as you listened to his heartbeat.

“I told you we’d be alright,” he whispered in your ear. You looked up at him like he was the only other person in the room before giving him a kiss, a kiss that said everything you wanted it to say. The rest of the night consisted of laughter and love- two things that you would have your entire life with him.

-

a/n: i imagined the last 2 minutes of fine line playing as there’s like a montage of the reception where everyone’s dancing and happy and in love and harry is just singing “we’ll be alright” over and over like UGH I CANTTT why am i making myself cry rn dsakbfjb

taglist: @easygoingtheatre, @rexorangecouny, @kaytlyngraygubler, @fear-less-write-more, @yesimaunicorn, @mariahreid, @bestyearslftv, 

[collecting-stories]

Comfort - JJ Maybank

Request: hi!! i love your fanfic about obx and i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is struggling with her body image/self-confidence and the pogues don't know but JJ, her bf, somehow finds out and comforts her? i haven't been feeling very confident lately and i feel like this would help idk why. thank you <33 - @teaheeee

A/N: This was a tough one but here it is.

Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

“I’ll be like five seconds.” JJ swore, running up the stairs to your room where he’d left his wallet.  

“JJ come on.” You groaned, falling back onto the couch. This was at least the fifth time he’d stalled the two of you from leaving the house. You were supposed to be meeting everyone at the beach and you hated being late.  

“Hold on!” He shouted. He had dropped his wallet under the bed earlier and almost left without it when the two of you were leaving. While you waited downstairs, he grabbed the wallet, pausing when he noticed the ripped picture on the floor. Shredded by hand into pieces was your school picture, the one you’d just gotten last week.  

JJ picked up the pieces, sifting through them for a moment until you called him again, reminding him that the task at hand was getting his wallet so you could get to the Wreck. He didn’t want to bring down the evening and he wasn’t sure what to say so he said nothing when he came down, only holding up his wallet to show you that he found it.

It was entirely possible that he was reading too much into things. That you had really just hated your senior portrait and thought it was awful. There was nothing wrong with that, school pictures were always cheesy. But ripping your picture to shreds wasn’t an isolated incident, not in his mind at least. You’d been avoiding any type of jean or tight all week. He was honestly surprised today to find you wearing a nice dress though he supposed that it was for everyone else’s benefit because you kept holding the hem like it was going to billow up.  

You were fine at lunch. It was JJ that caught Kiara’s attention, seemingly more distant than she remembered seeing him before, she leaned over at one point to ask if everything was okay at home.

“What do you mean?” He asked, gaze straying to you as you pushed at the food on your plate.  

“Are you okay? You seem really distracted.” She replied, keeping her voice down so no one else noticed.  

JJ shook his head, “fine.” He didn’t want to tell Kiara that he was worried about you. If you hadn’t said anything to her, and you clearly hadn’t because she seemed oblivious to your behavior, then he didn’t want to draw attention to you.  

It wasn’t any one thing. You couldn’t pinpoint the moment or the day, it wasn’t that you stepped on a scale and gained a few pounds. It wasn’t that your jeans felt a little too tight around the hips. Though now that you thought of it, you were feeling kind bloated lately. But it wasn’t just that. It was the sudden breakout of acne near your jawline and the way you felt like you just couldn’t quite ‘pull off’ the clothes you were wearing. It was the feeling of something being wrong but not being able to pinpoint it. That unsettling, unnerving feeling of looking in the mirror and knowing that it was all wrong. That you were all wrong. Your hair looked dull and lifeless, your skin was puffy and it didn’t glow the way the serum you bought said it would. You could name something from head to toe, there was list, sprawling inside your head of all the things that were wrong. Your posture, your nose, your waist, your legs, your eyes...everything had something wrong.

JJ waited until you were back at your house, sprawled out on the couch with you while you watched some rerun of a stupid show. Never good at confrontation that wasn’t with someone he didn’t like, JJ jumped right in, “Are you okay?”

It was a simple enough question. You could just say yes and he could be satistfied and everything could go back to normal. You could hope that you would eventually shake the awful feelings and be okay. Or you could tell him that you were just tired or just not feeling well or just whatever. It didn’t matter what you said, there were a million excuses and all you had to do was choose one.  

But that was easier said than done and you found yourself floundering for a moment, trying to think of the most believeable way to say that you were fine and he didn’t have to worry. He had enougn on his plate, he didn’t have to be bothered with you too.  

“Yeah.” You replied, voice a little shakier than you meant it to be and you grimaced slightly at your own voice.  

“Are you sure?”

If he was asking the question than it meant that he probably knew the answer.  

“Yeah, fine, good.” You nodded.  

“I saw you ripped up your picture.” He admitted.  

“I can explain-”

He nodded, “you know you’re awesome?” He asked, as if he was expecting some sort of response from you.  

“Sometimes,” you shrugged, “I don’t know...I just feel like...it’s not worth it. Like I just want to stay in bed and under my covers because then no one has to look at me.”

“Well I like looking at you so I can’t say I’m a fan of that idea,” JJ replied, smiling when bit your bottom lip, “although if the bed’s big enough than that’s fine, we can hide together.”  

“JJ,” you sat up more and so did he, “I’m being serious!”

“So am I,” JJ replied, “you think I’d hesitate to do anything you needed me too? You don’t have to believe me but that doesn’t mean I won’t remind you ever day how incredible you are.”

“You’re such a sap,” you tried to play off his words as if it didn’t make your heart race to hear him say those things to you.  

“Eh,” he shrugged, pulling you against him and kissing the side of your head, “worth it. Now, you wanna tell me what’s the matter, really?”

“I told you.”

“More than that.” He stressed.  

“I just feel gross I guess. I don’t know, it’s not any one thing it’s just like, every little thing that I see that I don’t like. It’s so easy to just...look at myself and see all the ways that I’m falling short. All the things I wish I could change about myself.”

“I don’t know how helpful it is to say it but, I wouldn’t change anything about you.” JJ admitted. “You’re my best friend, I mean...” he shrugged, almost as if he wasn’t entirely sure how to end that sentence. JJ wasn’t the best with words, he had always had trouble getting his thoughts. He could name every single thing that he loved about you, and the list was extensive, but saying the words felt like his throat was closing up on him.

It didn’t really matter though, you knew what he meant. The soft look and the kiss on your forehead that had you closing your eyes when his lips touched your skin. He wasn’t used to comforting, hadn’t ever had any example of it in his own life, but he was good at it. He was good at letting you know it would be alright. Even if he didn’t say it outright.  

-

taglist: @maplelattes22 @poguesrforlife  @freckled-and-daydreaming  @chasefreakinstokes @millie-753 @fangirlwithme @alex12948 @katherine097 @tangledinsparkles @carbonated-beverage @mariofgreengables @damonsalvawhore27 @dopedoodes @dolanfivsosxox @belledutchess @poguelifeeee @faded-blue @parkerpetertingle @thebookwormlife @summer-clouds-and-long-days @jellyfishbeansontoast @minigranger @hoewkeye @love-someone-special @tiredfeels @strangerthanfanfiction713 @the-only-nana @tomzfrog @mozz-are-lla @vindictive-hearts @ssprayberrythings @jenahbell @beautyandthebleh @gothackedalready @teenwaywardasgardian @sarahcxmeron @haha-fuck-you-thot @stillbelieve398-5 @rewindlr @queenniccimicci @kissessforharryyy @thedarkqueenofavalon @alytavzla @bqmblebee @linniep @nerdypartytrashpsychic @xxchxrryxx @spencer-reid-is-a-cutie @danielladreaming @obx-saltlife @youngestxhearts @spnobsessedmemes @wowitswondergurl @mybnkjj @pineappleandcherries @mysterious-adventurer @justawilddreamerchild @rhyetaylor62 @calm-rejects  @oh-annaa @aiifandomsunite @x-lulu @ceruleanjj @wicked-laugh @obxwriterfan @allie-mcginn @literarycharleton @khiaraaa-in-spacee @crushe-s @teamnick @daydreamlilys @collectiveuniverses @activist-af @mdgrdians @buckys-sunflower @vindictive-hearts @copper-boom @talksoprettyjjx @5am-cigarette @smiithys @dontjinx-it @outerbanksbro @mysticsthinking @heavenlymama  @rudy-pankow-needs-an-oscar @babymatilda @raekenliar @lemur46 @under-a-canyon-moon @calums-betch @jolomez @summerkaulitz 

[thewatermelloncat]

Breaking Bottles

Summary: Set after the events of Season 2, Five struggles to come to terms with all he has done to get himself and his family back to the timeline. (No Sparrow Academy)

Author’s Note: Started this with a whiz and a bang and then fell out of writing it for a bit. Don’t know if the level of craftsmanship will be consistent. Let me know what you think, love getting feedback.

Warnings: Themes of depression

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

His stares were always blank. It would seem like he was studying whatever was in front of him intently, if it weren’t for the vacant look behind his eyes.

Sometimes he would blink too much and other times seemingly not blink at all. There were moments when he breathed too rapidly and other moments when he would stop, only to breathe out and then hold his breath again.

Allison had used the phrasing that Five was like a shell. He looked the same, but inside he seemed empty. That was the description that suited the best, so it was the description they kept.

Every move he made was mechanical when he chose to move at all. Most of the time he stayed so still it would be easy to forget he was capable to animate. He also gravitated towards corners, choosing to mechanically make coffee in the place where the two lines of benches met each other. Often, he would stay there while he drank it before disappearing off to his room. Sometimes when they could convince him to sit at the table with them, he would sit at the very end even if he was far away from his siblings, but he would never sit at the head where he would be too isolated.

Days swung in and out. Some days were good and he would talk to them with his voice sounding hollow, but interacting with them all the same. Other days were bad and he would sit frozen and emotionless.

Today was a bad day.

Like the other bad days, it was late when he came down from his room to join them in the lounge. Settling tight into the corner of the couch, tucking his knees to his chest to make himself as small as possible. From the moment he walked in they knew that he wasn’t going to respond to anything they said. It was either a hit or a miss on bad days. Most of the time they could ask him to do something and he would immediately get up and do it on autopilot, no questions asked as if he just wanted to avoid confrontation. Though sometimes he stayed frozen in place with his empty gaze, like he couldn’t hear a word they said. Those were the worst days.

On those days he was completely disassociated, face pale while the rest of his body shook. They hadn’t realised the extent of the problem until Allison had felt his forehead for fever and found that he didn’t move, didn’t flinch, barely blinked when she touched him. Her hand had come away cool but her heart had been racing. She had asked him how he was feeling but he said nothing, his eyes didn’t even move toward her. The rest of the siblings had tried their hand at asking afterward, each of their questions coming away unanswered. They had shared worried glances with each other but had said nothing about it until he had disappeared back to his room.

Collectively they had decided to not speak to Five about it until he was ready to talk to them. The decision may have been unadvisable but it wasn’t like he was being self-destructive. He was still eating and getting sleep – almost too much if they thought about it. But he deserved it after the weeks he had been through. So, they decided to watch him, and on the days when he came down having missed breakfast, one of them would find something for him from the kitchen and bring it to him so he could eat.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 

This morning when Diego holds the plate of toast out for him, he doesn’t take it. Gently he taps it against his shoulder in case he hasn’t noticed him standing next to him. “Five?” he says quietly after still getting no response.

That fails as well.

Carefully Diego reaches down and moves his arm that rests across his torso, his hand gripping onto the fabric of his shirt. Although his grip was tight, he releases it immediately allowing Diego to move his arm easily so he can wedge the plate between his chest and his folded legs.

With the plate balanced Diego moves over to the rest of his siblings who have congregated over by the bar, watching their brother. He catches their eyes and shakes his head – this is the worst day they’ve seen.

“We need to get him to talk to us” Allison whispers when Diego joins them.

“He won’t tell us anything if he’s not ready” Luther points out.

“It’s been almost two weeks since we got back, Luther, and he still hasn’t said a word about any of it” she sighs helplessly.

“He’s still processing. Just give him more time” Vanya tells her gently.

“How much more time can we give him?” Allison’s voice cracks. “Have you even seen his eyes? It’s-it’s like he’s not alive anymore.”

At her words they all look over seeing the all too frequent blank stare.

“He wants to live” Klaus settles their thoughts. He for one knows the look in his brother’s eyes isn’t one that wants to die. He’s seen that look stare back at him in the mirror from time to time.

“How can you be sure?” Allison’s voice shakes and she opens her mouth to say more before Klaus cuts her off.

“I just know. All right?” he speaks quickly and with conviction, but he doesn’t sound angry. His tone sounding far too serious for his character. They don’t question it.

“What can we do for him?” Vanya asks.

“Just be with him. He still likes our company” Diego says.

It was true, Five tended to be where they were whether he talked to them or not.

“He seems different today. He’s not eating” Luther says staring at the untouched plate.

Without a word Allison detaches herself from the bench and makes her way over to him. Carefully placing her hand back to his forehead then moving it down his face to cup his cheek. She keeps it there in silence, hoping that he’ll move. He doesn’t.

She doesn’t have the strength to move back to the bar and sinks into one of the chairs across from Five on the couch. The rest of the siblings follow her lead moving from the bench to various furnishings. Luther sitting on the couch next to Allison, placing his hand on the arm of her chair. Vanya takes the other end of his couch and Diego sits in another chair on the other side of her. Klaus is the last to take his seat after taking the plate from Five and placing it on the small table next to him, figuring that he’s not going to eat, before sitting on the other end of his couch.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

It’s hard to find conversation when all they can think about is their brother sitting unresponsive amongst them, but somehow, they manage it. A debate ensues over whether Luther or Diego would be better at tenpin bowling. Luther having super strength but Diego having pinpoint accuracy. In the end, they settle that Diego would be superior given that super strength isn’t needed to knock over ten pins – if it were one giant pin, that would be a different story.

Somehow Klaus knows that Five is listening to their conversation, although he may not comprehend what is being said. Occasionally he’ll feel him shift at the other end of the couch from him, sometimes taking a deep breath before stopping unmoving again.

It isn’t until Vanya is telling them a story about one of her violin students that Klaus habitually looks over to Five after realising the couch is vibrating. “Five?” the name falls out of his mouth instantly, seeing him shaking with his jaw twitching. That hadn’t happened before.

Five says nothing as he chews at his bottom lip to keep it from moving. He seems to be aware of Klaus looking at him as his breathing gets shakier and he curls his fingers one at a time into fists, each of his fingernails scratching against the sleeves above his shoulders.

Klaus’ own lip quivers as he registers the shining tears that have yet to fall out of his brother’s eyes.

“Breathe” he tells him slowly, wanting more than anything for Five to let his emotions out. Bottles can only hold so much before they break.

His words draw Vanya’s attention and she stops her story as the rest of the siblings look over to them. One by one they get out of their seats and move closer to them. Allison and Vanya taking the floor in front of the couch, Luther and Diego standing behind them. Klaus shuffles over the gap in the couch to sit cross-legged at Five’s feet.

With all his siblings packed in close with their attention on him, Five feels his grip on his emotions slipping faster. He can’t let them see him break. Unknowingly he turns his head to bite against his thumb, hoping the pain will hold him together. The relief doesn’t last long as Luther carefully removes his hand from his mouth, thankful to see only teeth marks and no blood.

Having nothing else to distract him his breathing quickens into panic as he keeps slipping.

Seeing his brother’s eyes widen and dart around in panic, Klaus quickly reaches his hands over Five’s knees and onto his shoulders, giving them a light squeeze to get his attention. When the shining eyes meet his he narrows his gaze. “Five, break” he begs, his voice both commanding and compassionate.

He pours every ounce of his authority into his words as if he has the power of his sister. It isn’t an option for Five to withhold his emotions anymore. Something has to give.

And Klaus guesses it does as Five lowers his head to his knees, his chest expanding deeply with quiet breaths. But he’s still holding back, they can tell as much as his deep breaths seem to be trying to calm himself down rather than letting everything out.

“Five, it’s okay” Allison says as she places a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Around him the rest of his siblings place a hand upon him. Each gentle touch prying open a chink in Five’s armour as his breathing becomes uneven, sobs choking out of his body. The sounds so ragged that they sound like they should never come from someone so well put together as him.

It’s a nervous wait as they sit by, giving Five time to ride out his bottled emotions. Even after all the time waiting for this moment, none of them know what to do, being unprepared for what it entails. As Five’s breath steadies out Klaus looks up to his siblings.

“Hey guys, can we have a minute?” he requests, nodding down to Five.

Although none of them want to leave no one argues and Allison leads them all in standing up. Slowly they make their way to the door where she waits brushing her hand against each of them to shepherd them through, keeping a watchful eye over her brothers on the couch. When the last has filed through she turns without a word and follows them through the hallway.

After watching them disappear, Klaus turns his attention back down to Five.

“Hey buddy, look at me” he says squeezing a hand gently on his shoulder.

To his surprise, Five obliges immediately. Raising his head and quickly brushing tears from his eyes.

Klaus smiles sadly at him before he cuts right into it, not seeing the point in messing around. “Look, I’ve been to rehab so many times and they’re all filled with ridiculous amounts of bullshit, but they all say this same thing: the hardest thing to do is to ask for help, because that means you’re admitting you have a problem. How cliché right?” he laughs slightly at the end, hoping to lighten the mood. Though he doesn’t expect Five to laugh with him or to answer, so he isn’t surprised when he does neither.

“There’s no point having the front up anymore, we can all see through it. You’re only closing yourself off so we can’t get to you. Just please let us help you.”

“You can’t help me” Five protests weakly.

“That’s what everyone says at first” Klaus dismisses.

Five shakes his head and sets his jaw. “I’m sick, Klaus.”

For a moment Klaus has to ask himself in what way he means it. With Five sitting there pale-faced, gaunt and shaky it isn’t too far of a stretch in either direction. Illness could be a factor in allowing his guard to slip. Though Klaus knows by his finger tapping against his temple, far too erratically to be considered sane, Five has reached his breaking point. “I know” he tells him sadly.

Five sighs as he lowers his hand, seeming to ignore Klaus’ words. “There is no part of me that is fixable.”

“We fixed Vanya,” Klaus reminds him, “and that was all because of you.” He remembers how the rest of them had wanted to abandon Vanya to save themselves until Five suggested otherwise. “We reversed two apocalypses. And one of those you did on your own.”

“But I can’t reverse what I did” Five mumbles quietly.

Klaus doesn’t say anything, suddenly finding it not important to speak. Though he fixes Five with an attentive look allowing him to continue.

“I killed so many people” Five breathes out, lowering his head back to his knees.

“We’ve all killed people Five” Klaus points out. “Even when we were as little as kids.”

“When we were kids, we didn’t know any better” Five dismisses. “We were only following instructions.”

“But that’s what you did at the Commission, yeah? Follow instructions?”

“But I should have known better” Five raises his head. “I should have been smarter. Figured out another way.”

“No, there was no other way” Klaus tells him. “If you hadn’t joined the Commission, you’d have died out in the apocalypse.”

“I survived on my own for over 40 years, I could have gone more.”

Klaus is already shaking his head before the sentence is finished. “Admittedly, I don’t know much about how time travel works but I’ve seen you absolutely shattered after bigger jumps. There is no way you could have gained enough energy from living off scraps to make your way back to us.”

Five opens his mouth to respond only to shut it again as a puzzled look crosses his face. “I-I never thought of it that way” he says slowly.

“You did what you had to do to survive, Five. Just like me in Vietnam. We both killed people we didn’t want to” Klaus assures him. “We did he best with what we got – and don’t get me wrong it sucks, it fucking sucks. But it’s something to be proud of.”

“I can’t be proud of it” Five denies. “I keep thinking that I should have thought of another way. A way to debilitate them rather than kill them.”

“I’m not saying be proud of what you did. What I’m meaning is be proud that you made your way out” Klaus amends. “For all the powers we have as a family, Five. None of us have the power of foresight. We only realise what else we could have done in hindsight.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

There is a long silence where neither of them says anything. Five goes back to staring at the couch and Klaus fiddles with the ties at the end of his pants. Overtime the silence becomes unbearable, Klaus knowing that if Five had finished saying everything on his mind he would have left. But yet he stays.

“That’s not it, is it?” Klaus states more than asks when the silence feels like it’s going to swallow him whole.

Slowly Five’s eyes rise to connect back with his and he shifts slightly before he speaks. “She told me I was always a killer.”

Though he’d never told Klaus this, it doesn’t take long for him to figure out that he means the Handler.

“You were – we always were. That’s how dad raised us” Klaus brings up again.

“No, not like that” Five’s voice is barely audible. “I’ve been thinking for a while now” – Five pauses to swallow deeply. “That Vanya wasn’t the true cause of the apocalypse.”

“I know, it was her creepy ex-boyfriend” Klaus labels and his face falls when Five shakes his head.

“It was me.”

The words sound so preposterous to Klaus’ ears that he barely comprehends them. He opens his mouth and draws in a breath to interject but Five stops him.

“I killed everyone when I went into the apocalypse. The whole planet wiped out… If I hadn’t time travelled, I wouldn’t have got stuck. I would have been there to protect you all, Ben wouldn’t have died” Five sniffs and runs a hand through his hair, visibly distressed. “Then our family wouldn’t have fallen apart and” – Klaus cuts him off, not being able to bear listening to anymore.

“Though dad would have still had Vanya hopped up on meds and repressed her powers with disastrous consequences.”

Five stops speaking, not having expected Klaus to interject.

“It’s not all bad Five” Klaus tells him. “Some good came out of it.”

“Not enough” Five shakes his head.

Klaus sighs deeply, reaching forward to take Five’s hands and he’s surprised when Five lets him. “You made it back to us. It’s enough.”

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Five was drained, that much was as clear as day. His emotions spilling out had taken its toll on him but he seemed better for it. Still, no one stopped him from going up to his room after his conversation with Klaus ended. They figured that some sleep would do him good as a sort of reset button.

It was a nerve-racking conversation Klaus had with the rest of them huddled around in the lounge after Five had left. A mix of emotions swirled around the small circle: worry, remorse, uncertainty. But mostly there was relief. Relief that Five had begun to talk to them. No none of them were stupid and thought that this would be a one talk fix all situation, they all knew a long process was yet to come. But they had a starting point.

When Five came down for dinner that evening no one said anything about it and likely wouldn’t for a little while longer. They all knew there was only so much his mind could handle in a day and they weren’t going to push its limits.

The next morning, he came down earlier than usual. He seemed quiet during breakfast but he ate enough and said enough so that it wasn’t too much of a worry for those around him. When they’d moved up to the lounge, he again sat in the corner of the couch. He mimicked the prior morning’s position with his legs up to his chest, though the muscle tension was gone.

Around him conversation started up over old memories from their time as children in the same house.

“Do they still have those specials on Tuesdays?” Allison says of Griddy’s when reminiscing about their old childhood escape.

“We should go” Luther suggests before turning to Five. “When you’re feeling better of course.”

Tuesday was only a few days away but to Five’s mind Luther’s insistence that there is “no rush” is lost to it.

“Maybe we can do it” is all he says for the moment.

He doesn’t know for sure whether he’ll be up for it when the date comes. But it might remind him of when times were simpler.

[ineloqueent]

time enough

Gwilym Lee x Reader

synopsis: you’re stressed and Gwil’s busy, but he’s always got time for you.

warnings: descriptions of anxiety, mentions and description of a panic attack

word count: 1.5k

see the moodboard here!

⭒

It had been a rough morning.

Scratch that.

A rough day. A rough week? Month? Year?

Whatever it was, it wasn’t going well.

You were studying ceaselessly, because attempting to get a doctorate in history was not what one would call “a walk in the park.” In fact, it was quite the opposite. You felt as though you were running down a steep, steep slope, at the end of which lay a cold, dark lake, which you would have no choice but to swim across in order to climb the mountain on the other side, atop which the Ph.D. was being held captive by a dragon, like some fairytale princess.

Indeed, your Ph.D. seemed like a fairytale, because how you were ever going to finish earning it was beyond you. You’d been at this for years and years already, and it seemed as though there was no end in sight. However much you loved history and that which you were studying in particular, the process of getting such an advanced degree was an arduous one, and some days, you thought you’d never make it.

For instance, today, one week before the final exam of your entire university career, the sky was falling down upon you.

It was Friday, and you’d been studying for this exam since four Fridays ago, and you were going around in circles. It seemed impossible to memorise all of those people, and all of those dates, all of those fucking movements, though you were sure they’d been in your head before.

You needed to get out of your apartment. You’d opened the window, but the air had remained stuffy, and the sun which beat down heavily was of no help. You were tired, running on a combination of caffeine and nervous energy, your hands growing shakier by the minute.

The pen fell from your grip as you stood up, knocking your chair to the ground in your hurry.

Out, out, out, get out. The room was too small, the walls were up against you, and you were finding it difficult to breathe.

You threw on your shoes and fumbled for your house key, stumbling out the door and only just remembering to close it behind you, let alone lock it.

You needed to get this off of your mind, this endless loop of studying and writing papers and reading papers, and there was only one person capable of helping you.

You knew where the shoot was, and it wouldn’t take you long to get there by car, but you wanted— needed—  fresh air, and didn’t trust yourself to drive with your quivering hands, so you began to run.

You nearly got into a road accident numerous times, and angry shouts followed you everywhere you went, but you could only hear the wind rushing in your ears and the hard concrete beneath your shoes.

You ran all the way to set, and when you got there, you faced the inevitable obstacle of a barricade and the security guard reluctant to let you in. But then you spotted Gwilym.

For a moment, you held your breath, your knuckles turning white as they gripped the barricade.

You didn’t want to trouble him. And he was very obviously busy, going over the delivery of a particular line with his co-star, prior to the shoot which awaited them on the footpath by the road, where the cameras were stationed.

But then for what reason had you come all this way?

By no small amount of courage, you called out to Gwil.

He spun at the sound of your voice, just as an assistant touched his arm to get his attention concerning the start of the shoot.

Your stomach dropped to your toes. He hadn’t seen you.

There were tears in your eyes now, and you couldn’t stop them, couldn’t even wipe them away for your shaking hands, your shaky breaths.

He hadn’t seen you, and he was going to leave and you were going to stay here behind the barricade, tearful and panicky and embarrassed and ashamed.

There was commotion over by the camera crew, but then one voice, assured, firm, clear, cut through.

“If you’ll excuse me, please, that’s my girlfriend you’ve barred from the premises.”

You were sinking to the ground by the barricade, your chest contracting, your skin cold and clammy, and then Gwil was jumping the barricade and kneeling on the ground beside you.

“Gwil, we need to—”

He raised a hand, and the gesture silenced the assistant. It wasn’t an impolite gesture, simply one which asked respect of the recipient, and for Gwil’s reputation of going out of his way to help others, the assistant nodded and walked away.

You were dimly aware of Gwil’s fingers curling around your own. He didn’t get in your face, but he also didn’t shy away, frightened by the panic which wracked your body.

“Hey, love?”

You turned your head to find him looking at you, all soft eyes and even breaths, and there was a calmness in just looking at him.

“You’re going to be alright. This’ll be over in a little bit, and then we can talk and go anywhere and do anything you like, yes?”

He was being so gentle, so kind, and the ghost of a smile touched his lips when you nodded in response to his askance, so much that you almost nodded again, just to see him smile fully.

But your vision still blurred at the edges— green and purple and black— and you remembered, all of those people, and all of those dates, all of those fucking movements, all of those things you were never going to remember, and you gasped as the intake of air constricted your lungs.

“You’re okay, I’ve got you. Just breathe with me.”

His thumb traced a gentle line at the base of your palm, and then he began to count slowly.

“One, you— the only one who matters right now. Two, how many days it took me to fall in love with you. Three, the number of drinks I had before I mustered the confidence to talk to you. Four, how many times I tried to talk to you on the same night before I gave up. Five, the number of weeks I thought about asking you out before I actually did it.

“Six, the hour I arrived to pick you up that first time. Seven, the time I was actually supposed to pick you up, but I’d forgotten about daylight savings. Eight, the number of constellations I memorised to try and impress you on that first date. Nine, the number of constellations I forgot how to identify, but you looked so happy staring up at the stars, so I pretended I knew them.

“And, because I can’t count, ten million billion trillion, how many times I will tell you I love you, if it makes you even half as happy as the first time I told you.”

That soft smile had reappeared on his face, and the colours were returning to the world.

You noticed that Gwil had sat down beside you, not minding his costume, or the fact that the ground would dirty it beyond all repair.

“I’m so proud of you, you know that? This Ph.D. thing… I could never do it. But you…” Gwil exhaled, shaking his head almost imperceptibly, as though he truly could not believe how you managed. There was a great, unspoken respect in his words, and his confidence in you was far lovelier than anything else you had ever been given. “You work yourself too hard, beautiful. Breaks are good. We all need breaks.”

With a tenderness, he smoothed the hair from your forehead, and your breathing began to return to normal.

“Do you…” your voice hitched on the words, and Gwil was passing you a bottle of water he’d conjured from god knew where. You sipped a little, then handed it back to him.

“Slowly,” he said. “Take it easy.”

“Don’t you need a break from me, sometimes?”

His brow furrowed, but you kept talking.

“I mean, I turn up out of nowhere, and I— I— I ruin your day, the shoot, the—”

“Shh, love,” he touched your hand. “Breathe in and out. Slowly.” He then shook his head again. “You could turn up out of nowhere any day of the week, and I’d be over the moon to see you. And you haven’t ruined my day or the shoot or anything. I’m only sorry I wasn’t at home with you today.”

“But you’re busy and I—”

“I’ve got time enough, and all the time in the world for you.” He canted his head slightly, looking at you. “I think I should tell you, you are my world, and taking a break from the world would mean giving up on life, and while you’re here, there is no thought further from my mind.”

There were tears in your eyes again. But these were not tears of panic, of fear. Your heart swelled with happiness, with hope.

He kissed your hair. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you whispered, and held onto him until the light faded from the sky.