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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 7 months

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where you lead me, i’ll follow ; suguru geto

synopsis; opening up is hard, even under the comfort of a starry sky, seated next to your childhood friend. fortunately, suguru knows you like the back of his hand.

word count; 10k (dont even look at me i got carried away ok….)

contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, mutual pining, childhood friends to lovers (eventually. probably.), hurt/comfort (mostly comfort tbh), fluffy overall!!, reader is silly and suguru is down horrendous, written with a no curses au in mind, i’m madly in love with suguru geto and it shows

a/n; nothing goes harder than sugu w/ the childhood friends trope i fear. the angst potential, the fluff potential….. the slow burn of it all……….. anyways can u tell i miss him :’3

time goes by so very quickly.

as you look up at the starry sky, the thought envelops you like a fuzzy tidal wave; heavy, suffocating, entirely unavoidable. these days, sinking beneath its weight is all you seem to do.

a sigh flows from your parted lips. soft and quiet, somewhat resigned. the midnight air tastes cold and crispy on your tongue, turning into a flurry of vapour as you breathe it out again, watching it dissipate into the summer night. beyond the boundary of your vision, stars burn in tandem. all you can see is the darkness of the cosmos, pupils dilating as you take in the immensity of the world, the little flickers of starlight that glimmer in that all-encompassing veil of black — blooming out across the galaxy.

the moon is beautiful, tonight.

a big blob of reflected sunlight, smiling down at you so very tenderly, so gorgeous that it makes your heart ache. shining with a hazy kind of brightness, soothing like the lilt of a mother’s voice.

and there’s a comfort, in the familiarity of the sight. because the moon is always, always there. always shining down on you, always when you need it most, even when it’s carved into a crescent or hidden by a blur of clouds. a view that never ever seems to change, no matter how many years go by.

what a lovely thing to be.

another second lost, as you gaze into the nothingness of space. time keeps passing you by, never stopping — seconds turning into minutes, minutes turning into months. that incessant moving of the hands of the clock; tick, tock, tick, tock. over and over again.

and, really, it’s a little bit scary. you think you might be terrified of time. you’re so afraid, afraid of being left behind, afraid that the world will turn its back on you and then walk away. afraid that everyone and everything will change shape before you know it.

but even in this always-changing, turbulent mess of a life —

one thing remains the same.

”ah. there you are.”

(that voice.)

honeyed and smooth, but still rough around the edges. just a little husky. deep and familiar, etched into your brain; even if you were to forget everything else, you’re sure you’d still remember it. that familiar, familiar voice. it sounds like moonlit nights, and sunkissed kitchens.

it sounds like coming home.

a turn of your head. it’s a subconscious reaction, as natural as the beating of your own heart, memorized down to the very marrow of your bones — muscle memory, to seek him out after hearing the low timbre of his voice. you do it as if it’s the only thing worth hearing.

and suguru is smiling, when your eyes meet his. that gentle upward tug of his lips, small yet sincere. the one that always puts your mind at ease.

a warmth settles in your chest, at the sight of him. hair down, cascading over his shoulders and back, a little messy; as black as the night sky. a stark contrast to the white of his shirt, old, oversized, with some indie band on the front.

his eyes glimmer like little pockets of stardust in the darkness of the night. cutting through the haze, into your very soul.

”… damn,” you click your tongue, faux pout playing at your lips. ”how’d you know i’d be up here?”

suguru shrugs. ”lucky guess,” he lies.

of course i knew, he thinks. finding you is his specialty. always has been. like that one time he found you hiding under a table at your twelfth birthday party, or the time he found you crying in the woods when you got lost on your school field trip.

finding you comes easy, to suguru. almost like he’s always seeking you out, subconsciously or otherwise, always paying attention to your movements. you go south, and he follows. you go north, and he’s already waiting up ahead.

he’s worried. just a bit, is what he tells himself, but truthfully it’s more than that. because tonight was supposed to be for you. for the both of you, a celebration of your shared graduation — but before he knew it, you had slipped away. seizing the opportunity as soon as people grew too sleepy to notice.

(sadly for you, no amount of fatigue could ever distract him from the lack of your presence.)

you look small, suguru thinks, curled up with your knees to your chest. sitting all alone up on the roof of his home, a place you’d always go to on nights when you couldn’t sleep. together, sharing whispered secrets and hushed laughter until the sun began to rise again.

back then, it felt like the two of you were the only ones awake in the whole world.

(the safest world he’s ever known.)

the distance between you grows narrower, as suguru makes his way over to you — and it always does, at the end of the day. no matter how much time you spend apart, that uncomfortable distance always, always ends up broached. one of you always moves closer. as if it’s unavoidable, two planets spinning around each other’s orbit.

suguru plops down right next to you, crossing his legs and leaning back. his knee bumps against the side of your shoe, and his shoulder grazes yours. it’s natural, as natural as the glow of the moon, this closeness between you. it reminds you of the gentle lapping of ocean waves at your bare ankles; on mellow summer days, comforting and familiar. a warmth that never goes away.

a brief inhale, and your heartbeat settles into a tender rhythm again. the scent that always lingers on suguru’s skin drifts throughout the air, mingling with your own — it can be hard to distinguish between the two, with how often you end up wearing each other’s clothes, but you could never mistake it for anything else. cedarwood and earl gray, with a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. enveloping every single one of your senses, grounding you in a way nothing else can.

leaning just a little closer to him, subconsciously, you let a fond exhale slip from your lips. barely audible. and suguru mimics it.

”of course i knew,” he whispers, voice gone soft. ”i know you.”

(your chest tightens. it doesn’t go away.)

another tiny breath flows into the air, as you gaze up at the stars in wonder. ”… yeah.”

the silence between you is a comfortable one. always has been. a little fickle, always shattered by one of you before long — usually you, though suguru isn’t much better.

but this time, he stays silent.

he’s waiting. you know he is, because he always does. he’s waiting, waiting for you to break the silence first. waiting for you to say something, tell him what’s wrong, explain why you’re up here instead of celebrating with the others. waiting for you to explain why your eyes have looked so tired, this past week.

(you’d like to ask him the same thing. he’s an idiot if he thinks a little makeup is enough to hide those dark circles from you.)

suguru is nothing if not patient. so he waits, unbothered by the silence. admiring the stars, and the flicker of their light. a vague worry simmers in his chest, however, and he can’t stop himself from glancing down at you every now and then.

an insatiable yearning to soothe you gnaws at his heart — but he can’t, not unless you let him.

a sigh drops from your lips, suddenly. deep and heavy, like a rock thrown into the depths of a lake. the silence breaks.

”hey, suguru.”

the man in question doesn’t speak, only emitting an inquisitive hum. he doesn’t look at you, either; a form of respect. knowing you’ll find it easier to get whatever’s bugging you off your chest without him scrutinizing you.

the pads of your fingers tap at the tiles of the roof. an absentminded habit, as you inhale a bit of the midnight air. it tastes like summer. ”do you remember how we first met?”

suguru glances at you, a surprised glint in his eyes. he can’t help himself — unable to resist the temptation of seeing your face, drinking in your expression.

then he chuckles.

”haha.. are you feeling sentimental?” he teases, a lighthearted sense of amusement in his voice. bubbling up like seafoam. ”did you come out here just to brood?”

the corners of his lips quirk up when he hears you huff, hugging your legs closer to your chest with a furrow of your brow. cheek squished against your kneecap as you meet his gaze.

”c’mon,” you whine, pouting childishly in a way you know will make him give in. ”just indulge me a little…”

suguru smiles. it’s soft around the edges, smoothed over with an unmistakable fondness — and he does indulge you. he always does. ”of course i do,” he assures you.

the silence that settles between your words is tender. a mutual understanding, of sorts.

of course i remember. how could i not?

”you broke into my backyard.”

a sigh. heavy and sharp, as it tumbles from your lips, and suguru has to bite back a grin. his eyes shine with something teasing, in the dark, when you shoot a glare his way.

”okay, first of all —” you begin, ”i didn’t break into anything. i climbed over the fence. peacefully.”

suguru raises a brow. ”that literally doesn’t matter? it’s still trespassing.”

”i was seven years old!”

”some criminals start young.”

another harmless little huff, as you halfheartedly try to sound annoyed. it doesn’t work. in an attempt to hide your growing smile, you tuck your face into your knees. ”whatever.”

then your gaze shifts. towards that expanding starry sky, the vibrant flicker of the moon, like a moth to a flame. helpless to its charms. it looks like a giant sponge cake, the kind you and suguru used to make when that was the only recipe you knew — you’d eat from the batter, and he’d scold you. then he’d do it too, when your back was turned.

a smile settles on your lips. in every star, you find a new memory; and the fuzzy nostalgia that engulfs you makes your heart feel bare. ”i just wanted to pet your cat,” you recall, softly.

suguru nods. gazing down at you, basking in the expression on your face — peaceful and relaxed, a little more yourself. so effortlessly pretty, bathed in moonlight. ”yeah. i remember.”

he allows the memory to sweep him away, for a second or two. recalling the sight of you, all those years ago, an unfamiliar child in his backyard. it was like you had just fallen out of the sky. quiet and meek, but looking at his cat with an excited glimmer in your eyes.

”you just pointed to her and expected me to understand,” he continues. a grin blooms on his face, hopelessly endeared. ”you were shy back then.”

a raise of your eyebrow. ”um? i’m still shy?”

suguru gives you a look. he doesn’t have to say anything — it’s written all over his face. the classic suguru look, the kind where you can tell he’s itching to say oh, really now? the kind where he tries to look judgemental, but never quite manages to hide the amusement in his eyes.

a small giggle leaves your lips, and suguru smiles, once more. so helpless in the face of your joy.

”then we watched movies at my place.”

you hum. ”it was fun.”

”yeah.”

another bout of silence. soft, terribly precious. the air is chilly, but not enough to make you shiver; a mild summer night, pleasant on your skin and light on your heart. a gentle breeze tousles your hair. in the distance, you hear cicadas buzzing — a familiar sound. unchanging.

(if only everything else could stay the same, too.)

”do you remember what movie it was?”

a lazy smile plays at suguru’s lips, when he angles his face to look at you. one eyebrow raised. ”is there a point to this, or —?”

”i just wanna reminisce.”

suguru pauses. your eyes trail across the view that stretches out before you, from the moon to the distant city lights, as you fidget absentmindedly with the strings of your hoodie. he thinks to himself that you look a little lost. gaze forgotten, within the depths of that endless night sky.

no more teasing, he decides, tactfully. instead, he opts to answer your question; softly, as if he could hurt you if he raised even a single octave of his voice. ”whisper of the heart,” is all he says.

a hum, as you nod. decisively. ”the best one.”

suguru turns his head away, and mutters something under his breath. but you can still hear him — and you know he wants you to.

”spirited away is the best one…”

out of the corner of your eye, you shoot him a thoroughly unimpressed look. he bites back a soft bout of laughter, teeth sinking into his lip gently, not enough to sting.

”you’re so basic,” you grin.

”you just want to feel quirky,” suguru shoots back, instantaneous. ”and you only like it because of seiji.”

”you only like spirited away because of haku!”

suguru closes his eyes, and leans back a little, crossing his arms in a childish fashion — and you know he only does it to make you laugh. ”i don’t know what you’re talking about,” he lies.

”oh please,” you scoff. ”you really think i don’t remember your queer awakening?”

”hm? what was that?” feigning confusion, he puts a hand to his ear. but there’s a mirth in his eyes, impossible to miss. ”you’re gonna have to come closer, i can’t hear you from here.”

another unimpressed look. you exhale, something in between a huff and a chuckle. ”if i get any closer i’ll be in your lap, dumbass.”

suguru bites his cheek, softly. gulping down the words that almost slip off his tongue.

(i wouldn’t mind.)

”sorry, say that again?”

a little push meets his shoulder, as you roll your eyes. ”yeah, yeah. whatever.”

the banter dies down, as fast as it appeared. then a smile breaks out across your faces, in tandem, the atmosphere shifting into something more sincere — and doesn’t it always, when you’re watching the starry sky with the one you love most?

when suguru continues, his voice has taken on that softer tone, again. the one he only ever really uses around you. ”i liked thinking of us as them,” he admits. ”me as haku, and you as chihiro.”

a soft blink. then your smile grows, sweet like syrup. ”.. hehe. that’s funny,” you cross your legs. palms flat against the roof, knee leaning comfortably against suguru’s. ”i always thought of us as seiji and shizuku.”

there’s something faraway, in your eyes. something suguru can’t look away from.

tentatively, his fingers dig into the skin of his palms, and he speaks. absentminded, a little uncertain.

”… they get married at the end, don’t they?”

a pause. then your gaze snaps over to suguru’s, suddenly mischievous — and he regrets opening his mouth.

”oh?” you purr, almost beaming. inching closer, like a predator sizing up their prey. ”oh shit? are you about to propose, mister geto?”

”i’m just stating facts,” he quips, hands raised in defense. desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint crawling up his neck, obscured by the darkness of the night.

”incorrect facts,” you grin. if you notice the blush on his face, you don’t say anything. ”they get engaged. not married. big difference.”

suguru huffs. it’s small, as he tries to keep himself from smiling. the beating of his heart is faint, a tender rhythm, stirred by every move you make. he pushes the words he yearns to say back down his throat.

(i wouldn’t mind that, either.)

again, silence blooms. curling around the space between you. it feels nice, just to be like this; just you, and your very best friend, under the soft lighting of the moon. as if you’re the only ones who exist, in an otherwise empty universe — devoid of space and time. like the night could just stop, and stretch on forever.

there’s an unspoken question in the air, though. one suguru is still waiting for you to answer. one you refuse to answer properly, until he does the same.

you’ve both noticed, of course. even if no one else has, neither of you could ever miss it. suguru has noticed the turmoil in your eyes, and you’ve noticed the fatigue under his. those little signs of stress, as everything around you keeps spinning on; as the future grows closer, with every passing day.

(it’s overwhelming, you both muse.)

— and finally, you’ve had enough.

”suguru,” you call out, and his gaze finds yours instantly. ”have they been stressing you out, lately?”

suguru blinks, eyelashes fluttering softly. a little sleepy. they.

then he smiles. maybe a bit weak, but still as sincere as always — resigned to the fact that he really can’t hide anything from you, after all.

(of course you’d notice it. he was stupid to think you wouldn’t.)

a hum, as he breathes in the air and then exhales it all. trying to formulate the words inside his head, turn the feelings into syllables. and you’re patient. silent, as you admire the way moonlight caresses his skin.

”i’ll manage.” is what he finally says, and your lips curl down into a frown. ”they’ve just been getting on my case, again. you know how they are.”

suguru closes his eyes, and you inch closer to him. barely, by a hair, just to let him know you’re still listening. that you’re waiting for him to continue.

it’s tough, for him. opening up, being vulnerable.

but he knows you won’t do it unless he does, too. so he takes that leap, despite the insistent voice in his head urging him to just keep it to himself.

”it’s just… all these expectations, you know?” he meets your eyes, a little sheepish. downplaying his troubles so smoothly, as if you wouldn’t notice. ”i’m used to it by now, but sometimes i guess it still gets to me.”

you hum, and he continues.

”i feel like i have to be… solid,” he decides on. ”put-together. responsible, and mature.” a sigh, as he wrings his hands together. ”and that’s fine — but it’s like they have everything planned out. like everyone does. how i should act, where i should go…”

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, so focused on verbalizing his thoughts that he barely notices your fingers curling around his. but he still squeezes them, lightly. as naturally as breathing.

”it’s like my future’s already set in stone. and i’m just expected to follow it,” he looks up at the moon. ”which is also fine. i already know what i want to do. but somehow, all of it just feels so…”

he pauses. unsure of how to put it.

”… suffocating?” you finish for him.

there’s a second in which suguru can do nothing but breathe. as if frozen, stuck in motion, caught off guard by how deeply your minds are intertwined.

— what a wonderful thing, to have someone pluck the words you’re afraid to say from the back of your throat.

a smile blooms on his face, and a gratitude shines in his eyes. almost overflowing.

(you’ve always been the only one who ever seems to understand.)

”yeah,” he sighs, relieved. and suddenly his chest feels a lot lighter. odd, how just the tilt of your voice when you say a certain word can chase that discomforting sensation away.

”don’t listen to them,” you say, assuredly, so softly it’s like you’re coaxing him into believing you. it works. ”they don’t matter.”

suguru chuckles, rueful. ”they’re my parents.”

”so? they aren’t you.” you nudge his side with your elbow. ”they have no say in how you live your life. you don’t need to live up to all those expectations, you know.”

a soft little breath leaves your lips, and suguru wonders how you seem to always soothe his heart so easily. ”you just need to be suguru,” you mumble, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. ”that’s all.”

a moment passes. suguru parts his lips, closing them again when no sound comes out. and then finally, he speaks.

”… yeah,” he muses. ”maybe.”

”definitely,” you huff. ”trust your best friend. i know best.”

”careful,” he teases, tilting his head lazily to meet your gaze. ”you’re starting to sound like them.” the smile on his face only grows when you gape at him, wholly offended, as if you can’t believe what he just said.

”wha — suguru…” you whine, sleepy, clinging to the sleeve of his shirt. digging your nails into the fabric and tugging on it childishly. ”don’t say that. i’m nothing like them!”

a giggle pushes past his lips. ”sorry, sorry,” he soothes, ruffling your hair with his palm. rough hands, big and warm, that always seem to find their way to your skin. ”i’m just kidding. thank you. really.”

the smile that he gives you glows brighter than the moon. he squeezes your hand, softly — a silent i love you. eyes closed, formed into little crescents, and when he speaks he sounds so painfully sincere.

”i think i’ll be fine as long as i have you,” he says. it comes out sounding something like a prayer.

the words make your eyes soften. melting into a mellow hue, so full of affection that you can almost taste it on your tongue.

”everything will turn out fine,” you murmur, consoling him. still not letting go of his hand. ”you have your whole life ahead of you, you know.”

he chuckles. the sound would be sweet if it didn’t have that teasing tilt to it, the one that tells you his amusement is at your expense. ”now you’re starting to sound like my grandma,” he quips, as if itching for something to bicker about.

but you only pout, and let your fingers slip from his. the warmth that leaves you is so jarring that you’re almost tempted to take his hand into yours again — but you just frown at him. ”i can never win with you, huh?”

suguru shrugs. ”need to keep you humble,” he chirps, pulling at your cheek gently. a lazy grin on his lips. ”we don’t want that ego of yours to grow as big as satoru’s.”

trying to keep yourself from grinning with him, you slap his hand away, playfully. ”that would never happen.”

”uh-huh.”

you give him a look.

”my bad.”

a moment passes. gradually, you feel your heart beginning to melt — just a little, but enough to get your voice hopelessly soft on your tongue. the glimmer of the moon embraces every cell in your body, painting over your features with a certain kind of bleeding tenderness. it’s hard to stop it from seeping out.

”you know that i love you. right?” tumbles from your lips, breathed out into the sky, words too heavy to be held back. ”even if your parents give you trouble, and everyone else, too — i’m still on your side.”

”always,” you promise, devotedly earnest. meeting his gaze. and suguru can’t look away.

something flickers, in the depths of his eyes, like a shooting star. something delightful.

he doesn’t quite know what to say. but he nods; almost meek, in a way, and it makes your chest ache. suguru’s always been the type to keep his troubles to himself, content with never letting anyone see into his heart — even if he’d like them to deep down.

if you can be there for him, even just for a night, then that’s more than enough.

he lets the silence linger for a while longer, soft breathing and the rustling of grass filling the space where your words would be. then he looks at you with newfound determination, suddenly, eyes shining in a way you don’t recognize.

”— and you know that i love you, too.”

a moment passes.

an affirmative hum buzzes in your throat, and you give him the ghost of a nod, shying away from his deep gaze. hoping to escape the intimacy of the question. but he doesn’t let you, stare so heavy that you have no choice but to meet his eyes again, after he nudges your hand with his.

the words that fall from his lips surprise you. something akin to a pout plays on his lips, but it’s more serious than that — he looks dejected.

”… do you, though?” he pushes, a troubled frown on his lips. ”do you know that i love you? just as much as you love me?”

at your stunned silence, suguru sighs, bringing a hand up to smooth over the crease between his brows. ”sometimes i worry that you don’t,” he admits. ”you always think too much. but i don’t want you to ever have to worry about that.”

his voice is firm, when he continues. ”i don’t want you to ever second-guess my love for you,” he declares, and you cower a little under the intensity of his gaze. playing with your fingers instead of looking at him. ”— so i want your answer.”

when his hand finds its way to your face, you stiffen, just barely. but it’s soft, the way he cups your jaw; the warmth of his palm smoothing over your skin. gentle, as he forces you to meet his eyes, tilting your chin up slightly. a bold move, even though physical contact is no stranger in your dynamic. you feel your heart pick up in speed.

”do you know that i love you?” he asks, and it sounds almost pleading. you can only find it in you to stare.

suguru’s eyes are filled with something, something you’d like to call love. and they’re looking deep into yours, almost as if coaxing you into drowning in their hue. mesmerizing. ridiculously pretty. if you stare into them for too long, you fear that you might never be able to look away.

but they’re sweet, and warm. painted over with worried hue, something very kind. familiar. the same eyes that have soothed you for as long as you can remember.

in your flustered state, you can do nothing but blink dumbly — gaze darting from his eyes, to his forehead, to the sky, to his lips.

he can tell the eye contact makes you nervous, but some part of him won’t allow you to squirm away. this is important. he needs to know that you know. he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sleep at night, otherwise.

finally, you squeak out an affirmative yes. and that’s all it takes for him to relax; in one smooth motion, his hand leaves your skin, a relief having bloomed in his eyes.

”okay. that’s good,” he exhales.

swallowing down a gulp, your gaze drifts away from the boy to your left. suguru is terrifying, really — doing stuff like that out of nowhere. you check your pulsepoint, discreetly, just to make sure your heart is still beating.

”alright, then,” he suddenly proclaims, breaking the fleeting silence. ”your turn.”

a blink. your eyelashes flutter in confusion, as you gaze up at him, a question painted on your features. suguru glances at you out of the corner of his eye.

”you’ve been stressed, lately,” he remarks. stating the obvious so you don’t have to. with a soft gaze, eyes that shimmer with understanding. ”i can tell, you know?”

(yeah. he always can, can’t he?)

”… uh,” you croak. clearing your throat and attempting to gather your thoughts, hoping the words will find their way to your lips. ”well. i dunno, really...”

suguru emits a low, affirmative noise, not looking at you. opening up like this makes you feel so uncomfortable. but it’s suguru. you trust him. and you know he won’t let you get away from this, either; he’ll stay up all night if he has to. just waiting for you to put your faith in him.

a sigh leaves your lips, finally, and it comes out sounding just a tad exhausted. ”i… guess i’ve just been thinking, lately.”

and, really, it’s an understatement. thinking is all you’ve been doing, for these past few weeks. thinking of this, and of that. the past and the future. him and you.

suguru hums. an unspoken encouragement.

”everything is just so…” you move your hands, haphazardly, hoping they’ll make the words easier to say. but nothing comes to you. everything is all jumbled up, inside your mind, and it’s just —

”overwhelming,” you finish. the word falls off your tongue like a tidal wave. ”everything passes by so quickly, and…” you bite your lip. ”i feel like i can’t catch up. i can’t visualize the future at all, and that’s…”

(it’s scary.)

”— it just makes me feel confused.”

suguru waits. patient, attentive, making sure you get all the words out before he speaks. as grounding as the moon, as warm as the sun.

when you don’t elaborate further, avoiding his gaze, he opts to finally soothe you.

”that’s understandable,” he chimes, voice buzzing with care. ”you don’t have to think about the future right now. living in the present is enough,” a breeze drifts by, tousling his black hair. ”.. it’s for the best, really.”

a smile. it’s a little sad, as you wring your hands together. ”i know,” is all you can say. because you do. it just doesn’t change anything.

the sensation of your nails scraping against the tiles of the roof is discomforting, but you don’t stop. when you part your lips, your voice comes out tiny. barely above a whisper.

”i’m so afraid of change.”

suguru looks at you. his gaze softens, impeccably.

”everything keeps changing. all the time,” you bite into the flesh of your cheek, harshly. ”i hate it.”

”that’s understandable, too,” suguru soothes. tentative, as his hand goes to rest on your head, smoothing down your hair gently. ”change is unavoidable. but you get better at dealing with it.”

”mm, i know.”

”and some things stay the same, too.”

you glance up at him, and his eyes crinkle. there’s something unspeakable in them, something that’s always been there. light and heavy, all at once. something a little bit too wonderful for words.

suguru smiles. almost a little shy, as he looks into your eyes. ”like you and me.”

…

a deep love unfurls in your chest, warming you up from the inside out. fuzzy and tingly. but with it comes a deep sadness, bittersweet, that you can’t chase away no matter how hard you try; like a piece of gum stuck to the bottom of your shoe, no matter how many times you try to scrape it off against the concrete.

like you and me.

(he doesn’t know that’s what scares you the most. the thought of that one thing changing, while you just stand there, helpless to stop it.)

”yeah,” you breathe. a wounded little breath.

suguru notices it, despite your vague attempts to act like nothing’s wrong. he notices the fear in your voice, the uncertainty. and once again, he gets the impression that you look a little lost. like you aren’t sure where to plant your feet.

it bothers him. an itch he wants to scratch away. but before he can get to the bottom of it, you begin to speak, once more.

”with you, it’s like…” a breath flows from your lips, as you try to find the words. but this time, they come to you with relative ease. ”if i could do my life over again, and make everything turn out different… then i’d still always keep you.”

silence. you continue, suddenly a little embarrassed at the honesty in your tone. but it’s too late to back out now.

”and even if everything else changes, if i could pick just one single thing to keep — then it’d be you, too.” the smile on your face is small, a little sheepish. “that’s how it is, so…”

you trail off. not sure what else to say. suguru isn’t, either; he feels just a little bit stunned, in the face of your sincerity. yet he parts his lips, softly, words making themselves manifest before his mind can even begin to catch up.

”i don’t think i’ve ever told you this,” he begins, not entirely sure where the words will take him. blinking up at the sky, entranced, whilst you look at him quizzically. ”you always call me your guardian angel, right?”

the question makes your lips curl up. it’s a habit of yours, one that’s become almost muscle memory. you don’t remember how it started, but it’s in everything suguru does; from the way he can always tell when you’re feeling overwhelmed, to the way he never fails to bring you a coffee right before your exam starts.

suguru is always looking out for you, even when you’re apart. like a guardian angel. yours.

you nod. ”because you are.”

suguru smiles, breathing out a fond chuckle, and then shakes his head. ”it’s the opposite.”

you turn to the man beside you, and he’s already looking at you. with his pretty, soothing brown eyes, and the barely visible dark circles beneath them. his gaze is warm and fond, grateful in a way that makes your chest squeeze tight. you melt a little, under its weight.

”you’re my guardian angel,” he says, sickeningly sweet. ”always have been. even back then.”

inhaling the mild air, suguru lets his eyes flutter shut. the taste reminds him of the summer vacations you used to have as kids, when you would ride your bikes to the nearest river and play all day. stopping by any ice cream stand you found on the way there; you always took a bite out of his without asking, and he always tried to get angry at you. but he never could.

on your way back home, the sky was always dark. a soothing blue hue, stars glittering in the distance, while the moon looked close enough to touch. a night just like this one. you’d walk, together, talking about everything and nothing — sometimes he’d carry you on his back. not once did he drop you.

a breath, deep and drawn out as he exhales, basking in memories you aren’t privy to. a saccharine smile painted on his lips.

”without you…” he muses, voice a little breathless. fond, and somewhat helpless. but he’s smiling. ”i don’t really know what i’d do, to be honest.”

a moment passes.

”it’s the same for me,” you echo, words escaping your throat before you even get the chance to realize their weight. gaze stuck to the stars, as always. ”i can’t imagine life without you.”

suguru doesn’t speak, afraid that his heart may crawl out his throat if he does. the honeyed smile on his face says more than words ever could, anyway.

a small bout of laughter leaves your lips. sudden, sad, dripping with longing. it surprises you, catches you off guard — like something within you just overflowed.

“you know what my biggest fantasy was?” you grin, ruefully. maybe just a little manic. ”i used to think about it all the time, when we were kids.”

suguru looks at you in silence, but there’s a confusion in the way he tilts his head.

there seems to be a knot of some kind, stuck in the very bottom of your chest. something that makes it hard to speak. ”i’d get on a train, and just kinda… leave,” you breathe, hoping it’ll unclog your throat. it doesn’t. ”you know? to somewhere far, far away.”

and suddenly, the world grows just a little blurred. suguru can see it, in your eyes — you’re someplace else now. gaze trained on something he can’t see. there’s an amused touch to your voice, but also something rather pitiful. a childish wish that never came to fruition.

there’s regret, there, suguru thinks; something close to pain.

”maybe, like… a small port town,” you continue, closing your eyes. “with a cute little café close by, or whatever… somewhere you can see the sea.”

another breath. you pretend it tastes like salt, like an ocean breeze. then you swallow the lump in your throat, and whisper. ”with you.”

when you finally muster up the courage to meet suguru’s eyes, they shine with nothing but pure understanding. he doesn’t say anything, but he understands. he’s always been like that. not a single word is needed for him to ground you, the way a rock always meets the bottom when it’s thrown into the depths of a lake.

suguru’s comfort is as natural to you as the gravity that keeps the stars up in the sky.

the voice you’ve grown so used to hearing reaches your ears again, and it’s a low sound, a little raspy. but soft. achingly so, enough that you could almost miss it if you weren’t always so aware of every word that falls from his lips.

suguru looks up at the moon, in tandem with you, and lets the ghost of a smile show. ”… you know what my biggest fantasy was?”

his gaze is sincere, a little forlorn; hopelessly softened, as you meet his eyes. they’re painted over with something sweet, and something that looks just a little bit like regret.

a tilt of your head beckons him to continue, and the corners of his lips curl up further.

”running away with you,” he breathes. ”anywhere at all. wherever you wanted to go, i’d follow.”

for a moment or two, all you can do is stare.

you feel your lips part, but no sound comes out, nothing at all. suguru’s hair sways with the breeze, softly, and the light of the moon makes him look somewhat ethereal. like he could disappear if you blinked.

the silence that blooms in the space between your words is fragile. precious, if a little overwhelming, as it stretches out before you — growing heavier with every passing second. so tender that it makes you feel sick to your stomach, as if the sound of the wind whistling could shatter it into pieces.

(your heart aches, aches, aches.)

a weak laugh bubbles up from within your throat, something raw and tender hidden behind a veil of faux amusement. something vulnerable you're trying to cover up, like the glassiness of your eyes.

like a memory that never got to happen.

”what, so you’re saying we could’ve been by the seaside by now…?” you groan, forehead slumping against your knees with a bonk. ”what the hell, dude…”

suguru lets out a chuckle, resting his jaw on the heel of his palm and looking down at you with a smile on his face. one that reaches his eyes, glimmering with something akin to starlight.

”we can still go there,” he consoles you, reaching over to tousle your hair with a palpable softness. ”to the seaside, i mean. i’ll take you.”

for a while, you don’t say anything. a pout plays at your lips, as you attempt to get your emotions under control.

then you lean back, to lie down flat on the roof. the movement is so sudden that it stings a little when the back of your head meets the tiles, and you wince — a soft but exasperated murmur of careful comes from the boy on your left.

your elbows go to cushion your head, as you take in the immenseness of the sky. ”alright, then,” you hum. ”take me there sometime soon.”

suguru blinks. then his lips curl up. ”got it,” he chirps. mentally mapping out a nice spot, trying to remember the timetables at your local train station.

(next week, maybe. a picnic by the sea. he’ll make those sandwiches that you like.)

then he follows your lead, and goes to lie down on his back. right by your side, so close he can smell the fading scent of your shampoo, curled up right next to you. breathing out a sigh as he takes in the night sky in all its glory.

there’s something tender, in the air. something that doesn’t need words. a kind of comfortable silence that you’ve learned to treasure, whenever suguru is with you.

so you simply stare at the dark veil over the city, in tandem with him — a pitch-black blanket sewn with stardust.

everything expands, before your very eyes; an infinite cosmos, with all the light you could ever want. the stars blink down at you, as if saying hello, mapping out the galaxy. you try to find the constellations you’re familiar with, the ones suguru have taught you about in the past, but nothing really comes to you.

it’s nice, though. just staring at the stars in wonder.

an exhale, as you breathe in, and then out. you part your lips to whisper, breaking the sleepy silence.

”the stars are so pretty….”

suguru hums, the sound buzzing right by your ear. a soothing summer lullaby, that only you get to hear. ”yeah,” he whispers back.

a moment passes.

then you both part your lips to speak; smoothly, in a fashion that would be embarrassing if you didn’t feel so terribly safe in each other’s company. simultaneous, as the sentence tumbles from your throats.

”and so are you.”

silence. the seconds stretch on, and on. everything goes quiet.

you’re the first one to burst into laughter — deep, the kind that comes from the very bottom of your stomach. almost wheezing, as you try to catch your breath, arms snug around your shaking body. suguru follows close behind, trying to contain his laughter, but you can hear his little chuckles clear as day.

”eww, what the fuck?” you grin, shifting to lie on your side so you can get a good look at his face. ”you’re so corny!”

suguru snorts. ”i heard you say it too, dumbass.”

a little giggle flows from your lips, and you slump against his shoulder, still trying to control your breathing. suguru curls an arms around your midriff, bringing you closer. muscle memory, to make it more comfortable for you.

”haah…..”

the smile on your face shines brighter than the stars, suguru thinks, looking at you with a bleeding kind of fondness. as if you’re the only thing worth looking at.

”i hope things stay like this forever.”

the light of the moon shines down on the roof, bouncing off the white of your teeth. your canines shine in the dark as you grin, youthful — but there’s a sadness in your eyes, now. one that suguru will never fail to notice.

(one he’ll always yearn to smooth away, the same way his thumb always goes to wipe at any stray eyelashes on your skin, or crumbs at the corner of your mouth. muscle memory.)

”they will,” he assures you, reaching over to find your hand. enveloping it in his bigger one, cradling it, linking your fingers together and squeezing them softly. ”i’ll make sure that they do.”

a chuckle leaves your lips, but suguru thinks it sounds a little meek. like you still don’t believe him.

”i mean it,” he reiterates. more serious this time.

”i know,” you grin. ”but, i mean —”

a moment passes, and then your grin falters. ”you can’t promise that, though.” the expression on your face seems sort of pained, now, troubled by something. ”maybe we’ll move away from each other, or just drift apart, or —”

”that would never happen to us —”

”maybe you’ll meet someone.”

…

”a nice guy, or girl…” a sigh, as you run a hand through your hair. ”and then you’ll… i dunno. get married, i guess. and then eventually you’ll have kids, and buy a house, and —”

a pause. in a smaller voice, you continue. almost childlike. ”you’ll leave me behind.”

suguru bites back a scoff. it takes concentrated effort. he turns to look at you, but you won’t meet his gaze, and a frown finds its way to his lips. ”… do you honestly think that’s what i want?”

another moment passes you by. more seconds lost, never to return. ”… isn’t it?”

suguru sighs, a little exasperated. maybe just a little hurt, too. ”marriage and kids aside…” he mutters, burning holes into your skin with his steadfast gaze. determined, self-assured. the tilt of his voice leaves no room for doubt. ”there’s only one person i love.”

resisting the temptation to keep your eyes away from him becomes nearly impossible — so you let your gaze trail over, and take him in. in all his glory, silky black hair framing his face, a soft look painted over his features. looking at you as if you matter, as if nothing matters except for you.

and again, something breaks out across the scope of his iris, a shooting star you don’t know what to do with. he looks so hopelessly sincere.

for a second, all you can do is stare.

then you nod, solemnly. ”satoru, right?” you hum. ”you’re gonna break my heart if you keep bringing him up when we’re together, sugu.”

you don’t need to see his face to know that he’s giving you that unimpressed look, again. the suguru look. he rolls his eyes, and you bite your cheek to stop yourself from smiling.

”i love him too, but that’s different,” he huffs.

”how so?” you prod, eyes crinkling. but there’s something a little meek about the question. he notices it, of course, because what doesn’t suguru notice?

something soft curls around his features, and a hum buzzes in his throat. a heavy tenderness bleeds into his voice. ”i wouldn’t die for satoru,” he says, simply.

a moment passes.

”… you totally would.”

”huh?” suguru blinks. ”no, of course not. are you insane?”

”suguru,” you sigh. ”you are literally the most self-sacrificial bitch i’ve ever met —”

”well, obviously i’d take a bullet or two, but —”

”what do you mean obviously —”

”— you’re the only person i’d die for.”

suguru is smiling, now. amused, sincere. almost on the verge of laughter, the sweet and soft kind that always turns your heart into a puddle. his eyes almost seem to glimmer, in the night, and it’s all you can see for a while. as you try to gather your thoughts, get the right words out.

”… always so dramatic,” you murmur, at last, a little gruff. his smile grows. you shift a little more, lying on your side to face him with a serious expression. ”don’t tell satoru that, okay? he already has it out for me. at this rate he’ll kill me and steal you away.”

a chuckle rumbles through his chest, deep and fond. you continue, a frown tugging at your lips. ”… and i wouldn’t want you to die for me, anyway.”

suguru lets a giggle slip, a bit too sleepy to hold it back. ”mm, i know. but if it ever came down to it, then i still would.” he shifts, too, lying on his side to face you properly.

”to me,” he exhales, and he’s so close you can smell the mint off his breath — ”as long as you’re by my side, i can make it through absolutely anything.”

the smile on his face is boyish. all teeth and crow’s feet, blooming in the light of the moon, a flower just for you. it’s perfect, you think. you don’t want a single day to pass without you seeing it.

”me too,” you mumble, linking your pinkies together. a silent promise. ”so don’t die. ever.”

suguru’s eyes soften.

then he hums, absentmindedly. ”… well. i mean,” he clicks his tongue. ”eventually i will. that’s not really something i have a say in.”

a roll of your eyes. ”alright, smartass,” you scoff, and suguru’s eyes crinkle with humour. ”just don’t die before i do, then.”

a hand comes to touch your skin. and it’s sudden, warm, but you don’t flinch away. suguru smooths over your cheek with the back of his hand, seemingly unable to stop himself. soothing, as he exhales a soft breath.

”… i think i’d prefer that to the alternative, honestly,” he admits.

you furrow your brows, softly. a part of you wants to protest, to call him a selfish prick — for even thinking the thought of leaving you behind without a best friend.

but something in you knows he won’t budge, on this one.

(it’s childish, in a way. stubborn, for him to take a joking conversation so seriously. but suguru doesn’t think he could even jokingly suggest that he’d survive without you.)

”seriously, though,” his voice takes on a firmer tone. ”i wouldn’t leave you behind like that. it’s us we’re talking about. you and me.”

he says the words like they’re undeniable — because they are. there is no him without you. that’s always been the case, hasn’t it?

suguru stops to think. do you not feel the same? there’s still a crease between your brows, a sign of worry that’s impossible to dismiss. he can’t help but wonder just how long you’ve been thinking about this; how many nights have you spent sleepless, thinking of the future? of the possibility that it entails your parting?

(the thought makes him feel a little bit nauseous.)

”are you afraid that we’ll grow apart?” he asks, into the haze of the summer night. it resounds in the air around you, softly spoken, gentle but coaxing. almost pleading you to open up to him.

and it’s a stupid question, really.

of course you are. it’s the only thought that really scares you.

time moves so, so fast — always leaving you behind. who’s to say that suguru won’t do the same? that he won’t be taken away from you, swept away by that flow? into the future, while you stay glued to the past — stuck on the roof of your childhood, while he moves on to better things?

the night sky is infinite. sometimes, on nights that are a little too long, when your mind has grown a little too muddled, you think of suguru as a star in that sky. blinking down at you, while you can do nothing but watch. hopelessly out of reach.

gaze trailing down to rest on suguru’s collarbone, you swallow the lump in your throat. a little too vulnerable to feel comfortable with looking into his eyes, afraid of what you’ll see in them.

but he’s patient. waiting, always waiting, for you to catch up. for as long as it takes.

”… of course i am,” you mutter, at last. a weak little thing. farther down the street, a car swooshes by, drowning the sound — but suguru still hears it clear as day. ”i mean, it’s just…”

a meek intake of breath. you blink, desperate to chase away the glassiness forming in your eyes. trying to grasp control over your wavering voice. ”even if you say that we won’t… it’s not like there’s any guarantee. you can’t know for sure.”

suguru wants to stop you, right there. wants to ensure you that he does know, that it’s the only thing he’ll ever know for sure. just that one fact; you and him. never one without the other.

wherever you’d go, he’d follow — that’s how it’s always been. that’s all he’ll ever need.

but he knows you. knows you better than he knows himself. and he knows that he needs to let you speak freely, without interruption, until you’ve gotten every last worry off your chest.

so he settles for simply looking at you, curled up and biting his lip to stop himself from speaking. wishing he could smooth away the moisture in your eyes, already — but the tears need to fall first. he knows it’ll make you feel better.

”i love you,” you whisper, and suguru’s heart claws its way up his throat. ”i love you, and i want to be with you forever — but…” a shaky inhale. ”but i can’t get rid of that fear. the idea of losing you… i just can’t deal with it.”

”don’t you think i feel exactly the same?” he cuts in, softly.

a beat. you glance up at his face, for a split second, and then back down to his collarbone. a little fragile, curling into yourself as if hiding. ”i don’t know,” you sigh.

(suguru’s heart breaks.)

”i know that you love me too, and all. and i trust you. but…” you trail off, swallowing thickly. ”you already have your future planned out, and everything. maybe i just… don’t have a place in it.”

suguru scoffs, unable to bite back the sound any longer. it’s soft, but frustrated. ”there’ll always be a place for you in my future,” he vows. ”i wouldn’t accept anything less.”

you cower a little, under the warmth of his gaze. sweet, but stern. so distinctly suguru that it makes you falter.

”besides,” he clicks his tongue. ”i don’t need to follow the future that’s been planned out for me. i just need to be suguru.” a warm smile. ”right?”

at the sound of your own words, a light flush blooms on your skin. but for once, suguru isn’t teasing you.

”and you just need to be you,” he continues, arm still wrapped around your midriff. trailing up slowly, so that his hand can smooth over the back of your head. ”that’s all.”

”as long as both of us do that — we’ll always be together.” he looks into your eyes, and you think you spot a constellation inside his iris. ”won’t we?”

another moment of silence, the familiar comfort that settles between you. there’s no pressure to continue — but you do so, anyway. muddled mind still spinning, worried about this and that, despite suguru’s soothing words.

a part of you can’t put your faith in that kind of future. one where the two of you are together, that you could envision so clearly when you were younger — when him and you was all that you knew for certain. it’s not as simple as it was back then.

(but another part of you desperately yearns for him to prove you wrong.)

”… but,” you mumble, shaky. ”what if it’s not that easy?” a chuckle pushes past your lips, humourless. ”i mean, you can’t possibly… always stay by my side, you know?”

there’s something childish, in the way you say it. like you’re still kids, and you’re whining for him not to leave you behind. selfish, in a way.

what right do you have to chain him to you?

suguru emits a hum. his eyelids flutter shut, for a few seconds — and then he opens them again.

”… alright,” he drawls. ”let’s make a promise, then.”

confused, you glance up at him. he just smiles — responsible, dependable. your very best friend.

”have i ever broken a promise i made to you?” he asks, and you pause.

”… no,” you answer, hesitant. voice still a tad meek, a little helpless.

(and it’s true. not once has he broken one. when suguru makes a promise, he keeps it. you’ve always, always admired that about him.)

”right?” he grins, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. admiring your moon-lit features. ”so let’s do it.”

a frown tugs at your lips. furrowing your brows at him, your voice flows out, uncertain. ”promise… what, exactly?”

the moon glows, big and bright. hanging in the sky, a beacon of light, the same as it’s always been. suguru thinks you look radiant, under its illumination — even though you’re nervous, and a little teary eyed. just a single glance at your expression is enough to make his heartbeat soften.

you look like what home feels like.

he could never bear to let that go, to let you go. his very best friend; the one thing in his past he has no qualms about. the one thing in his future worth hanging onto, cherishing fully. no matter what.

suguru parts his lips, smiling. he links your hands together. ”keep being you,” he implores, steadfast. ”and stay by my side.”

a moment passes.

something crumbles, inside your chest. unable to break away from his gaze, all you can do is fall deeper into the hue of his eyes, crinkling softly — in the same way they always have. he squeezes your palm in his, tightly. a silent promise not to let you go.

— and then you realize something. the same realization that always comes to you, at the end of the day.

the man in front of you is just the same as the boy you met, all those years ago. the same boy who saw you climb over his fence, and let you pet his cat, and watched whisper of the heart with you even though he wanted to start with ponyo instead.

the same boy, always the same boy, no matter how much time passes. even though he’s all grown up now, features more defined. voice deeper and huskier. hands larger, with rougher skin.

he’s changed, just like you have — but he’s still just suguru. just that cool, sweet boy. a dorky guy who never, ever lets you fall too far behind.

a tremendous softness seeps through your veins. a kind of love, old and matured, carefully nurtured. the blinks you indulge in are slow, and your eyes shine with tears. it’s overwhelming, seeing him so up close, but you still can’t look away. he’s so beautiful it hurts.

”suguru…” is all you can sniffle, meekly.

your best friend is still smiling, fondly. wrapped up in you, as close as he can be. a familiar warmth, like a big fuzzy blanket draped over your shoulders; smelling of cedarwood and earl gray, and just a hint of coconut-scented shampoo. tailor-made just for you.

suguru never breaks his promises.

”but… you can’t,” you croak out, gasping as if searching for air. ”you don’t know if —”

”i do,” he cuts you off, gently. ”i do know.”

a breathless inhale of air, as you grasp tighter onto his nimble fingers. you feel meek, lost. not sure where to put your hands, or what to believe. ”how?” you ask, terribly fragile.

suguru takes a deep breath. oxygen enters his lungs, exiting as he breathes out. a soft flicker of life. his thumb goes to wipe away the stray tear that trickles down your cheek, his touch delicate. and then comes his response.

”— because i need you the way i need air.”

and, really, it’s a sappy thing to say. a little pretentious. he’d feel embarrassed if it wasn’t for the soft flicker of the moon, the intimacy of the moment. he simply couldn’t bear not to tell you the truth — even if you end up bringing it up tomorrow, just to tease him. he can deal with a little embarrassment, every once in a while. just for you.

fortunately for him, no thoughts of teasing run through your mind. maybe if you were in a better headspace, a little less of a wreck, you could muster the will to make fun of him a little. who do you think you are, shakespeare? i knew i shouldn’t have lent you that copy of romeo and juliet. — something light and amused, just to distract him from the rapid beating of your heart.

but right now…

all you can do is take a deep breath. and you think you understand what he means, when that breath of life courses through your lungs.

”i’ll never leave you behind,” he continues, words so very self-assured that it leaves you reeling. rubbing comforting circles into the skin of your palm, without thinking. muscle memory. ”can you trust me on that?”

connected to his gaze, you stumble for something to say. anything.

but then he smiles, again. that familiar, familiar smile. as soothing as a mother’s caress. and only one single word makes it past your lips.

”… okay.”

you do trust him. more than anyone else in the world. so you take that leap, no matter how frightening it is —

and the world narrows down to just the two of you.

just you, and him, in this one single moment. illuminated by the light of the moon, lying side by side and looking into each other’s eyes, on a roof you always find yourselves at one way or another. laughing and sharing secrets until the sun begins to rise; a silent promise that needs no words.

(the promise of tomorrow. a summer that never quite seems to end.)

suguru cups your cheek. his touch buzzes with warmth, trickling down his wrist and through his veins — and you melt into his palm, eyes fluttering shut instinctively. the sight makes the corners of his lips curl up, hopelessly.

leaning close, he plants a kiss on your cheek. delicate, tender; his lips against your skin, a silent whisper of i love you. fervent, full of devotion. of a love that’s as steady as the sea.

”i’ll always, always be by your side,” suguru repeats, like a mantra. hoping you’ll feel his conviction through the whisper. ”you’ll always have me to fall back on. i promise.”

a little smile breaks out across your lips, meek and teary. as fragile as a sheet of glass, but still persisting in the dead of night. your voice wavers, as you raise your pinkie, right in front of his stupidly pretty face.

”pinkie promise?”

it’s a childish gesture. something to lighten the mood a little, make it all easier to chew. you expect him to roll his eyes, or raise an eyebrow, or tease you a bit. but he doesn’t.

instead, suguru raises his own pinkie, and curls it around yours. then he smiles. sweet and boyish, painted over with a rosy, tender nostalgia.

”— pinkie promise.”

and you believe him.

you believe him, because suguru has a way of making you do so, even when he has no idea what the hell he’s talking about. with that confident tilt of his voice, that makes it sound like he has all the answers in the universe — that flicker of genuine faith, in every word that falls from his lips, that tells you he truly does believe in them.

you believe him, because suguru is the only person in the world who’s never once broken a promise he made to you. not a single time. and some part of you suspects that if he ever did, he really would be okay with you cutting his pinkie off. a little frightening, the depths of his devotion. the pure loyalty that courses through his veins.

so you believe him.

you believe him because he’s suguru. and, just like you can't exist without him, he can't exist without you. never one without the other.

on instinct, you inch a little closer, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him extra tight. face hidden away in the crook of his neck, just like you used to do when you were kids. he’s bigger now, harder to properly embrace — but still so very, very warm.

and he squeezes you back, just as tight. comforting and grounding, and so, so secure. tugging you closer, like he needs to have you near to properly breathe. like he needs to feel that you’re there to relax, melting into the hug with a soft sigh. relieved, that you’re still with him. relieved at the promise that you always will be.

wherever you go, he’ll follow. to the roof of his home, to the seaside, to the ends of the earth. the same way every star in the sky orbits around the center of the galaxy, endlessly, before burning out into the night.

the smell of cedarwood and earl gray floods your senses, filling your lungs as you nuzzle into his neck. he’s warm, and soft, and your very best friend.

you close your eyes. indulging in his body heat, every familiar sensation that’s been etched into your bones for as long as you can remember. and you can tell he’s doing the same — breathing you in, arms resting securely around your back, pressing his cheek against the top of your head.

and maybe it’s true, after all. maybe suguru really does need you, just as much as you need him.

and maybe that’s all you really need to know.

the moon rests in the sky. smiling down at you, unchanging. a living proof that some things really do stay the same.

— you hug suguru tighter, and decide that his presence is proof enough.

#suguru geto my bicoded princess…#he could fix me.#sugu is suchhh a ghibli boy u cant convince me otherwise. his fave movies are spirited away and porco rosso #(and ponyo but hes a lil embarrassed to say it LOL… he was obsessed w sea animals as a kid. <3 now im just making stuff up but im right)#physically incapable of writing for suguru without giving him a silly reader…. unbeatable dynamic #i have other sugu childhood friends fics planned but some r. Angstier than others #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto fluff #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #geto suguru x you #geto hurt/comfort #geto angst #geto x reader #geto x you

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byunbqbes · 2 years

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HQ BOYS WHEN YOU CRY

tw: some crying. nothing too sad tho

♡ suna. laces his fingers with yours and carries you to the bed when you begin to cry a little harder. lies down beside you and runs his long, slender fingers through your hair as he lets you cry into his chest. when you begin to feel better, suna flashes you a rare, uncharacteristic smile and asks, "do you wanna talk about it?"

♡ oikawa. freezes and the smirk on his face immediately drops. did he cross a line while teasing you just now? he makes his way towards you, apologies spilling from his lips and a box of tissues on his hands as he offers them to you. when you reject the tissues and hug his waist instead, he feels something stirring in his stomach as he quickly wraps his strong arms around you, pulling you into his lap. as he coos soft little nothings in your ear, oikawa can't help but wonder what it would be like for you to finally be his, and for him to comfort you for an entire lifetime.

♡ ushijima. blinks slowly and unsurely as he gazes at your slumped figure, broken sobs threatening to overtake you. he walks up to you and takes a deep breath before enveloping you in his large, warm arms. he pats your back a little awkardly as you lean closer, burying your face into his neck and wetting his collar in the process. when your tears stop, you realise he's still rubbing soothing circles on your back, and you smile to yourself because you know ushijima will always have your back and give you a shoulder to cry on.

♡ bokuto. his hair droops down and the light in his sparkly eyes quickly diminishes. he pouts and cups your face delicately, wiping away the tears that spill out of your eyes. he tells you his favourite bedtime story that his grandmother used to read to him, and his slow, soothing words somehow calm you down. when your eyes are no longer wet, bokuto finally perks up and rubs your noses together while he gives you the biggest smile you've ever seen.

♡ kenma. feels a pang in his chest when you fall into his lap in a dishelved heap. he hums very softly, playing with the ends of your hair whilst giving you tiny smiles occasionally. when your sobs become soft sniffles, he makes you your favourite hot chocolate and gently places it in the palms of your hands as he offers, "wanna play legend of zelda together?"

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turtleblogatlast · 4 months

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I will never be over how good Leo and Hueso’s dynamic is and how both of them get so much out of having the other in their lives.

In Leo’s case, he gains that older male figure in his life that he is willing to trust and lower his walls for. He gains a confidant where he has none elsewhere, too busy keeping up his many masks with his family to ever consider showing them his true thoughts. He gains an authority figure who is willing to hear him out, no matter how reluctant said figure initially appears.

In Hueso’s case, Leo’s direct involvement in the skeleton’s life has undoubtedly benefited Hueso so unbelievably well. For one, it’s Leo’s choice to ask Hueso for help finding his brothers that ultimately leads to the clearing of Hueso’s Hidden City ban. Then, it’s Leo and Mikey that Hueso brings on to help him with two mob bosses, ending with the bosses no longer being a problem for Hueso. And of course, through Leo’s decision to come to Hueso for advice and later the slider’s insistence that Hueso try to make up with his brother, Hueso’s estranged relationship with Piel is finally mended.

Sure, Leo causes no small amount of strife and damages to Hueso’s business and person, and Hueso is often annoyed by and speaks callously to Leo, but there’s a reason Leo feels comfortable enough to continue going to Hueso, and there’s a reason Hueso ultimately always hears Leo out.

They really do end up feeling like a nephew and uncle, don’t they?

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt leo #rottmnt hueso #GOD I LOVE THEIR RELATIONSHIP SO MUCH #LEO AND HIS TIO #No but like I said Hueso’s biggest problems in life are all solved largely in part due to Leo #and Leo - someone who notoriously keeps his feelings and fears under lock and key - is comfortable going to Hueso when he needs HELP #Hueso is understandably often annoyed by Leo’s antics but man just try and hurt Pepino in front of him after all this #Leo constantly looking for a father figure and accidentally finds an uncle #*shakes Nickelodeon* PLEASE I NEED MORE OF THEM #PLEASE LET LEO BABYSIT HUESO JR IT WOULD BE SO GOOD #yes I wrote this because my previous post ended up being a fic with them as a loose focus lol

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dindjarindiaries · 3 days

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The Art of Letting Go

summary: After Omega leaves for her new adventure, you seek to comfort the one who's sent her off.

pairing: hunter (the bad batch) x reader

tags: season 3 finale spoilers, emotional hurt/comfort, references to trauma/death, fluff

rating: T

word count: 2.653k

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

You watched as the ship soared into Pabu’s evening sky, a wealth of emotion welling inside your chest as it rose and fell in a steady breath. Tears brimmed your waterline, but you were able to blink them back. It was mostly joy and pride that had a grip on your emotions for the young woman Omega had become.

But letting go was never easy, especially for the person who was no doubt struggling even more than you were to watch her go.

It was easy to navigate your way to Omega’s makeshift hangar, especially with the light you had brought along with you. Hunter had never quite let go of the urge to stay hidden, and so you had the foresight to predict that the lights illuminating the hangar would already be out by the time you arrived. As it turned out, the amount of time you gave the two of them was perfect, too.

Omega had already said her goodbyes to you in confidence. You had promised not to tell anyone, not even Hunter, that she was leaving, but you had at least warned her that he would find out on his own. The conversations you and Hunter had already had about her itching to join the fight made that clear. When he left your bed that night, then, it wasn’t a surprise—and hopefully Omega wasn’t that surprised, either.

Batcher’s barking interrupted your mental rewind and brought you back to the present. You smiled as you bent down to meet her, setting aside your light for a moment as you pet her with both hands. She let out a sad trill, her big eyes sparkling with a sadness you felt deep within your own chest.

“I know, girl.” You set a gentle kiss on the top of her wrinkling head. “I’ll miss her too.” You smiled and scratched your hand against the side of her face. “She’ll be back when the fight’s over.”

You looked beyond Batcher and saw Hunter’s silhouette by the mouth of the cavern. He was still standing by the lights he had turned off, his back facing you as he looked out at Pabu’s night sky.

With an affectionate huff, you patted Batcher’s head and rose once again. You took up your light and walked through the hangar to meet him where he was. When you reached him, you stood by his side, letting him be the first one to speak.

“I knew you were coming.” You looked up at Hunter and caught the slight rise in the corner of his mouth. Still, what was even more prominent was the shine in his eyes, created by the tears brimming his waterline that he refused to shed. You softened and shuffled yourself closer to his side.

“Was it your senses that gave me away, or Batcher’s barking?” Your words were nothing but a tease as you set the light down at your side.

Hunter chuckled at that. “Neither.” He steadied himself with a breath, though his exhale was pushed through an evident knot within his throat. “I just knew.”

You raised your hand to his back, brushing over it in slow, soothing circles as you spoke. “You knew she was leaving, too.”

Hunter didn’t respond for a long moment. You looked up at him again, watching as his bearded jaw ticked for composure. He eventually nodded and glanced down at his feet. “I did.” He huffed and raised his brow. “We all did.” His head turned in your direction, but his teary eyes still couldn’t meet your own. “Wrecker and Crosshair came to terms with it. They were even talking strategy with her.”

Finally, his brown gaze looked up, his immensely sad yet proud dark eyes meeting yours. He was only able to hold your gaze for a few seconds before he closed his eyes and started to lower his head.

“I’m only one who wasn’t ready.”

You turned towards him, lifting your hand from his back to instead hold the sides of his face. He kept his eyes closed, the knit in his brow tightening as he refused to give up his fight for composure. You let out a soft breath, twisting your lips before looking out at the nearby shore. “Come on.” You were nothing but gentle as you tapped Hunter’s cheek. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Hunter reopened his eyes at that, watching as you bent back down to pick up your light again. “On this terrain?” He let out a curt breath. “My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

You scoffed and jostled his shoulder. “Okay, Sergeant. I’ll just go by myself, then.”

Hunter raised an eyebrow. “In the middle of the night?” He gave his head a shake. “You know that’s not happening.”

You laughed and shrugged with a victorious smirk. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

Even Hunter chuckled before he whistled to call Batcher over. She followed, moving much slower than she used to, and began to follow as you led the way out of the cavern and towards the Pabu shore. The hand not holding the light held Hunter’s, and he held yours just as tight. As suspected, he had no problem navigating the terrain that you all called home.

After a long while of walking, you settled on the nearby sandy shore, remaining far from the tide as you stopped and began to sit. Hunter followed suit, letting out a few grunts as he got down to your level. You chuckled warmly, catching his warning glance that was coated in amusement—though he was effortlessly able to keep your eyes on him.

The evening breeze was sweeping through his hair, softly jostling the long ends that were hanging from his forehead. They had only grown longer and longer over the years, and you were glad he decided to keep it that way. With a smile stuck to your lips, you raised a hand to gently brush them out of his eyes, the other hand still tight in his. Your knuckles ran over the side of his face as you admired the way Pabu’s moon and stars cast a warm glow over him, illuminating the flecks of light in his dark gaze.

Hunter raised his brow at you before giving his head a shake. “Don’t look at me like that.”

Your hand fell into your lap. “Like what?”

Hunter hummed, the corners of his lips curving upwards in a small smile. “Like I’m still young.”

You clicked your tongue, leaning closer until he bent his forehead down to meet yours. Your gaze gave him an obvious once-over as your smile remained. “You’ve only gotten more handsome with time.” You let out a soft laugh as you squeezed his hand and lifted the other back up to his face. “I had no idea that was even possible.”

Hunter’s cheek warmed beneath your touch as he let out a shy huff. “Well… thank you.” He leaned further into you until his lips were on yours, a sweet yet familiar touch that overwhelmed you with a wave of warmth. You had grown used to the feeling of hair on his upper lip, something as reliable and consistent as the soft locks your hand was able to tend to even as you pulled away from the brief display of affection.

Your eyes watched as your fingers made their way back to his cheek, your thumb running over the graying edges of his beard as you did so. You smiled at the recent memory the sight brought you. “I was right, you know.” Hunter’s brow furrowed as he waited for you to go on. “Omega likes the beard, too.”

“Yeah?” Hunter’s gaze sparkled as he raised a quizzical eyebrow. “So, you two were talking about me again?”

You let out a soft laugh and ran your thumb over the outline of his tattoo on his cheekbone. “We can’t help it.” Your smile softened from one of amusement to one of affection. “We both care a lot about you.”

For a moment, Hunter was able to return your smile with a breathless amount of fondness. “I care a lot about you two, too.” His hand tightened around yours. “That’s why I can’t…”

He paused, and you let him take his time. His eyes became more sad again as he inhaled a deep breath. They closed, and he spoke as he released his shaky exhale.

“... Let go.”

You offered him a more supportive smile. “You just did.” Your gaze gestured to the open stretch of Pabu sky above you.

Hunter shrugged, his gaze beginning to avert yours again as the tears returned to his waterline. “I tried.” He let out a breath of defeat, but after winning so many battles all those years ago during the war, it was clear that only his resilience was keeping him from doing exactly what he was struggling with.

Your thumb ran along his face as you invited him to lean into your palm. “Then try again.” You offered him a nod of reassurance. “Let go, Hunter.”

His brow wrinkled together, but after a long moment of consideration, it relaxed in understanding. Hunter’s jaw tightened as his body continued to fight him, but his trembling lips proved he was fighting to do exactly as you had told him to. Your hand on his face ran back towards his hair, guiding his head to your shoulder as you held him close.

Hunter’s shoulders heaved once, and you rested your cheek against his head. Your hand ran over his hair, minding the bump of the upper half that had been secured back. “There you go.” Your voice was gentle to as to avoid startling him, especially when he so badly needed this release. “It’s okay. It’s normal to feel this way.” Your thumb ran over his hand the best it could as it remained entwined with his own. “None of us were ever going to be ready to let her go.”

Hunter continued to stay close, though he shifted his head on your shoulder so that he could speak to you. “I never wanted her to have to fight, but…” he sighed, “I should’ve known it was inevitable.”

“You bought her freedom and gave her peace.” Your fingers threaded softly through his locks, minding his senses—no matter how much they were beginning to fade those days. “Now, she wants to return the favor to the rest of the galaxy.”

Hunter took a deep breath, steadying himself before he sat back up to face you. Your free hand slid to his chest as his stayed tight in yours, keeping you both close to one another as you watched the desperate shine of his gaze. “I know she will, and I know she’s capable.” He lifted an eyebrow and failed to hide the fondness in his voice. “We were the ones who trained her, after all.”

You laughed and nodded. “Yes, we were.”

The warmth in Hunter’s eyes began to fade again as he went on. “She’ll do justice for the one of us who taught her how to fly.” His shoulders started to deflate as a new grief fell upon him. It was a wound that festered within everyone’s hearts over the years, but especially Hunter’s, thanks to the guilt he could never quite conquer. “I just can’t lose her like we lost him.”

“We won’t.” You had full confidence in the quick reassurance as you lifted your hand to Hunter’s face once again. Your fingers brushed away a new tear that had escaped one of his eyes. “She was a threat to the Empire as a child. They don’t stand a chance against her now.”

Hunter at least huffed at that. “I know. I just…” He circled his jaw, his gaze floating up to the night sky as he searched for some kind of explanation.

“Your feelings don’t need rationale, Hunter.” You let go of his hand and wrapped your arms around his waist, resting your head upon his shoulder. You looked out at the stars, following the path Omega and her ship had taken. “The heart doesn’t recognize logic.”

Hunter took a deep breath of relief before you felt his face bury itself in your head. You both stayed like that for a long while, with only the sounds of Batcher’s gentle snoring somewhere beyond you and the waves washing on the shore filling the air. Eventually, Hunter was able to give voice to one new thought. “Why me?”

You furrowed your brow, but kept your head where it was. “What do you mean?”

Hunter adjusted so that his chin was resting upon your head. “Why is it me who’s struggling the most with this?”

You couldn’t help smiling as the truth fell upon you. You could only hope Hunter would do the same as you shared it with him. “Because you love her, Hunter. You’ve cared for her ever since the beginning, before any one of us did the same. It’s not easy to give that caretaking role up, especially when it’s been your main role ever since we stopped fighting.”

Hunter exhaled a steady breath, his lips kissing your head before he rested his cheek against it. “How you manage to have the answers to everything will never fail to amaze me.”

You chuckled and gave his waist a squeeze. “Well, it’s pretty easy to figure you out after I’ve had all these years to study you, Sarge.”

Hunter snorted, though he brought you closer as his arm held your shoulders tighter. “Having that time has made every single fight worth it. All the wins…” he took a moment to steady himself, “and the losses.”

You found one of his hands again and wove his fingers through yours, giving it a squeeze. Your own eyes closed as you found the strength to bring your words to fruition. “That’s what he gave his life for, Hunter.” You turned your head to kiss his clothed shoulder. “It was his own selfless choice, and it was never, ever your fault.”

Hunter exhaled, a shaky breath that rattled through his chest. His voice wavered as he responded. “I hope I can believe that one day.”

“You will.” You reopened your eyes and smiled as you looked into the stars yet again. “You’ll believe it when you see how much of him Omega carries in herself, and how she’ll show that when she comes home and tells us all about her adventures in this fight.”

His grip on your hand tightened as the fingers on your shoulder began to run in circles. “I miss her already.”

“So do I.” You lifted your head from his shoulder for a moment to offer him some of the strength and honesty in your gaze. He returned your look. “But she’ll be back sooner than we think.”

Hunter’s gaze searched yours even as he asked his question. “How do you know that?”

You beamed at him. “Because she’s your daughter.” You reached for the back of his neck to rest his forehead against yours once again. “And she watched as you and the others never stopped fighting to get back to your loved ones.” You nodded and ran your thumb over his lips. “She’ll do the same.”

The corners of Hunter’s mouth began to turn up in a hopeful smile as he returned your nod. Your smile widened, and you leaned close until it melted against his own—initating yet another wordless promise of the bright and loving future you still had ahead of you, even as a piece of both your hearts flew farther and farther away in the galaxy.

main masterlist • hunter masterlist

hunter tag list: @zenrobbins0021 @cw80831 @yunggoblin @maddiedrmr

#it's shorter than i expected but !!! old man hunter comfort yes #also sorry it's not a gif lol my internet here is horrible so i'll change that when i can xx #tbb hunter #the bad batch #tbb hunter x reader #tbb hunter x you #tbb hunter fic #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #dindjarindiaries

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popponn · 5 months

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sometimes, you wondered if the 'i love you's you had said were enough. if he understood how much you mean to them. if he truly ever heard and took them with him, tucked in a secret corner in his heart.

you wonder, if he knows that you regret not saying it more to him.

"i..." you tried to tell the empty space in front of you. a space that had come to place itself in your life in a presence that resembles a puzzle's hole more than a crack.

something should have been there and you know more than anyone what it is—who it is. yet, it remained unfilled no matter how much you wish to reverse time back to a happier time.

you wish it was all meaningless. that all these thoughts are mere hauntings built up by your own fantasies and when you blink, he will be there. maybe he could smile, maybe he could feign a cool mask, but all the same, his finger would intertwine with yours.

maybe, he would take a step closer to you, bumping your shoulder. maybe, his eyes would stray and look around, while the heat from his body remains just next to you. maybe, full of concern, full of care, he will ask you, "what's wrong?"

but, it is mere wishful thinking.

from somewhere, the strangers' footsteps resounded in the distance and he was not by your side. it would have been like a penitence, like an admittance to no one. so, in the end, you swallowed all your words down.

"i love you," you wanted to say, "i truly do."

sae, ISAGI, nagi, chigiri, VIL, jack, deuce, cater, jade, cyno, al-haitham, zhongli, NEUVILLETTE, wriothesley, diluc, KAEYA, XIAO + your faves.

#people you love will exit your life one way or another no matter how much you love them. in their place there are memories and regret #this piece is clearly romantic in its tone but honestly it happens to every kind of relationship #the thought of my “i love you” not reaching them is a really self centered and sad thought. but hey. i love you is an i love you #i think that concept is comforting. at the very least. tho another note i should work on my longer fics lol #bllk imagines #genshin imagines #twst imagines #twst x reader #bllk x reader #genshin x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #blue lock x reader #isagi x reader #sae x reader #vil x reader #cater x reader #neuvillete x reader #wriothesley x reader #xiao x reader #kaeya x reader #genshin angst #bllk angst #twst angst #making angst in this format is fun check again when im awake god bless scheduled post

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martianbugsbunny · 21 days

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Hour One (A Kalluzeb Fic)

*falling down the stairs* I did it! I finished my post-Zero Hour fic, it's so tasty to me <3 I'm not even gonna ramble about it I'm just gonna get right to the fic bc I love it!!! read on and enjoy!!!

When the ship was safely in hyperspace, Kanan quietly let Kallus into a room on the Ghost that was currently deserted. Judging by the half-made bunk beds against the wall, Kallus assumed it was living quarters, but he was too distracted by the growing pain in his shoulders and ribs to try and piece together whose room it was.

“I’ll give you a minute,” Kanan said. And then Kallus was alone again, with the forgiving, kind voice of the Jedi echoing in his brain. He didn’t deserve that. He didn’t deserve to be spoken to softly. He was lucky these people whom he’d hunted across the galaxy for years had even bothered to pick up his escape pod, rather than speeding away from the Imperial fleet and applying the rule of “serves him right.”

Something in him cracked. He began to sob, silently, terrified of what he had done in betraying the Empire, overwhelmed by a thousand different strident feelings he couldn’t even name. The heavy breaths hurt (every movement seemed to hurt, now that his adrenaline rush was wearing thin) and his head was pounding. Was the world really spinning, or was that just him?

At the first hiss of the door sliding open, Kallus dragged his sleeve hastily across his face to remove any tears or snot that might give away that he’d been crying—a bad decision, really, given his black eye, which stung at the rough contact.

It wasn’t Kanan who stepped into the room, slightly awkwardly and with bright green eyes that reflected back at Kallus those unnamable emotions.

It was Zeb.

Kallus took a step back, hands clenched at his sides. He knew his eyes were red and he could feel spots on his face where he had missed tears, and he hoped Zeb wouldn’t notice. He had no right to cry in front of this man, of all people.

Zeb stared at him for a moment, and Kallus could feel him mentally checking off all the things that were currently wrong on Kallus’s person. Hunched posture from his injured ribs; blotchy face; bloodstains on his uniform and dried blood on his lip.

“I brought you some clothes,” Zeb said. In the other hand he held a medkit, and Kallus realized with a sinking feeling that those supplies were for him. What a waste of resources that seemed. “They’re probably not your size, but they’re better than the Imperial things you’re wearing.”

Kallus took a breath before answering, surprised at how steady he was able to force his voice to be. “Thank you,” he said.

Then there was a horrible pause as Kallus realized he wouldn’t be able to remove his chest armor, much less his shirt, without help, and he could see the exact same knowledge dawning on Zeb’s face. “Karabast,” he said. “You’re going to be stubborn about this, aren’t you.”

Kallus shook his head after only a brief moment of thought. He didn’t have the strength to punish himself any further. Whether or not he was worthy of Zeb’s help would have to wait until he was healed. “If you don’t mind,” he said, taking another shaky breath as he once again met Zeb’s gaze.

He didn’t look angry. He almost seemed…proud? That wasn’t right. Kallus was seeing things; his brain had been shaken up by his escape and he was imagining things that weren’t there. “I don’t,” Zeb said. He crossed the room and set the clothes down on the lower bunk. “Sit,” he said, gesturing to the empty space next to them.

Kallus did as he was told, relieved to be off his feet. The leg he’d injured on Bahryn had been hurting horribly since his fight with Thrawn, particularly his knee. He might need to consider getting a brace, he realized, if he wanted to keep fighting—which he did.

Zeb unclasped the sides of Kallus’s ISB-issued armor, dumping it on the floor. “Sabine’ll get a kick out of painting that,” Zeb said. “You can wear our colors instead of Imperial ones.” “Give it to somebody else,” Kallus said. “I don’t want it.” Zeb gave him another strange look that he couldn’t parse. “Whatever you say.” He began to work at the clasps of Kallus’s uniform shirt. They definitely wasn't built for his large, clawed fingers. “So…you’re a Rebel now,” he said. “Still think you made the right decision?”

There weren’t words to describe how firmly Kallus was convinced of it. He was terrified, staring into the face of the unknown, but he knew he’d done the right thing—he just wasn’t sure how to live with the consequences. How to build a new life for himself out of the ruins of his old one…which had been built on the ruins of so many other people’s lives.

So Kallus simply nodded, trying to keep himself from spilling any more tears. The thing that made that impossible was the gentle way Zeb worked the unclasped shirt from his torso, pulling off one sleeve and then the other, grumbling angrily in that deep, rumbling voice when he saw the bruises on Kallus’s side.

“I apologize,” Kallus said immediately, his voice stiff and cracked like old, uncared-for leather. “This isn’t fair.” Zeb helped him get his arms into the new shirt he’d brought, leaving the clasps undone; the medics would only have to undo them again later to treat his injuries properly. Then he draped a quilted jacket across Kallus’s shoulders.

“You just uprooted your entire life, Kallus,” Zeb said, sighing and adjusting a non-existent crease in the jacket. “I would think it was weird if you didn’t cry.”

“Not in front of you. You shouldn’t comfort me.” Kallus moved backwards, further into the bunk, away from Zeb’s touch. He didn’t deserve empathy and he didn’t want pity. “This shouldn’t be your problem.”

Zeb got up from the floor where he’d been kneeling and sat on the edge of the bunk, staring at the opposite wall instead of at Kallus. “Maybe not,” he agreed. “Maybe I should say it’s none of my business. Maybe I should leave you to deal with it alone. But when you worked with me on that ice moon, and saved my friends from the Empire, and fed us all that intel as Fulcrum, I think you kind of made yourself my business.” He turned back towards Kallus, his face serious, his eyes soft. “Now let me check your other injuries.”

Kallus complied, shifting closer to Zeb. Even if it didn’t sit right with him, he didn’t think he could refuse Zeb anything. He would do whatever he was asked, whatever he was told—even allow Zeb to take on some of his burden—if it would make a fraction of a difference. If it would help him so much as an inch towards making amends.

With his broad hands carefully gentle, Zeb put a few stitches in Kallus’s broken lower lip. Kallus wondered where Zeb had learned those skills; if it was gained during his time in the Honor Guard of Lasan or in the Rebellion. For a moment, he was lost in wondering, searching Zeb’s face while he was intent on his task as though he could find an answer there. He only realized Zeb had paused and asked him a question when Zeb tilted his head to the side, staring at Kallus for an answer of his own.

“Could you repeat that?”

Zeb rolled his eyes. “I said, can you see alright? That black eye doesn’t look too good.”

His eyes were dry now, but there was still a blur in the left side of his vision. “Actually, I can’t,” he said, swallowing hard. “Everything to the left is hazy.”

“It'll probably need a while to heal,” Zeb said. “If it doesn’t, we’ll get you fitted with some visual aids.” He dabbed something cold and clear on the bruised skin. “There’s nothing more I can do until we land, but you should be fine.”

The pain in his side begged to argue, and he was pretty sure that something in there was broken, but Kallus nodded. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “For everything."

How could he put that everything into words? Thank you for not killing me on Bahryn, thank you for telling me to look for the answers, thank you for believing me when I was Fulcrum, thank you for picking me up just now, thank you for tending my wounds.

He didn’t need to. The way Zeb was looking at him, he already knew.

“We have enough people on board to handle things,” Zeb said, his voice equally low. “I can stick around here for a while if you want the company.”

Kallus felt a smile tugging at the stitches on his lip. More everything to be grateful for. “Alright.”

They sat there together on the bunk for a while in silence. It was a comfortable silence, somehow, and Kallus finally began to relax, not breathing easily past the injuries to his ribs but certainly breathing more easily than before.

“You were limping,” Zeb said, breaking the quiet. “When you came on board you were limping.”

“Once you’re wounded, that body part becomes a target. It’s not so bad, now that my weight’s been off it.” Zeb leaned back against the wall. “That’s good.” He extended one arm to Kallus. “Come on, Kal. We’ve got time before we land anywhere, you can rest.”

There was a moment of hesitation, of doubt, and then Kallus allowed himself to settle next to Zeb, with a strong purple arm around his shoulders. As he started drifting off, safe for the first time in months and knowing his injuries would be cared for, Kallus thought he felt Zeb’s fingers gently rubbing across his arm, and there was a little pit of warmth in his chest that kept the cold of pain and guilt out.

#come get ur juice kalluzebbies #alexsandr kallus #garazeb orrelios #kalluzeb #star wars #Star Wars rebels #rebels #post zero hour #post zero hour fic #hurt/comfort #fic #I've been talking about this thing for at least a month now I think #it's finally done so nobody needs to set my house on fire lol #martianbugsbunny writes fic

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friendship-ditch · 3 months

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Broken

(Katniss Everdeen x Fem Reader) ❀

Summary: After the mutt attack, Katniss takes care of your broken bone.

Warnings/Notes: A few graphic descriptions of a wound/pain but that’s it.

Word Count: 1873

It was quiet, uneasily quiet. Nobody wanted to speak, and if they did, they wouldn’t know what to say, not to mention the exhaustion.

Your group had grown much smaller than it was before. There were only six of you left: Cressida, Pollux, Gale, Peeta, Katniss, and yourself. Nobody wanted to mention the lost but it was weighing heavily on all.

After being ushered into the safety of her basement, Tigris provided what medical supplies she had and then returned upstairs.

Everyone was mostly taken care of.

Deep wounds had been stitched, blood had been cleaned, and grief had been consoled as best as it could’ve been in this moment.

Now, you lay on a bed of old fabric and furs, curled up in the corner by yourself. You’d let Cressida wrap the wound on your leg but you didn’t tell anybody that you couldn't move your arm.

The mutts had grabbed you by the leg, hence the deep claw marks, and launched you into the wall. The pain was too excruciating to relive so you pushed the memory away, but the fiery ache in your useless limb wouldn’t stop.

You weren’t really sure why you didn’t tell anyone of the wound.

Everyone was weak right now, and another injury wouldn’t cause a difference but you didn’t want to create more problems then you already had.

Nobody else had broken a bone and you’d just have to fight through it, at least for a while.

When you finally figured everybody else was asleep, you wandered over to the leftovers from Tigris’ medicine stash. You scooped them up with your good arm and returned to your corner in the shadows.

There, you took your shirt off and looked at the wound.

It wasn’t too bad on the surface, just some minor bruising across the skin and swelling but it hurt like hell on the inside.

You tried to touch the limb but when your finger hovered centimeters above the skin you nearly burst into tears.

Your soft cry was quickly muffled by you biting the fabric of your shirt. You tried to touch your arm again but you couldn’t handle it and just hung your head.

“Y/n?” It was Katniss’s soft voice from on the other side of the room. Her voice was laced with exhaustion but you could tell she wasn’t sleeping either.

“I’m okay.” You managed to croak out through gritted teeth, waiting for the fire to burn out in your arm.

You were never quite good at lying.

Katniss was at your side a few moments later, eyebrows furrowed with confusion. Her eyes had this glassy film over them now but beneath them you saw worry.

She quickly scanned your body. She didn’t really care that you were only in your bra, that was the least of her worries. It was the unshed tears in your eyes and the pain written on her face that really concerned her.

“What happened?” Katniss slowly bent beside you. Her shaky hand slowly reached to touch your arm but you pushed it away with a hiss.

“Nothing.” You mumbled. She let out a huff and you sighed, shoulders and head dipping. “I hurt my arm… back with the mutts.”

Katniss nodded quietly. “Can I take a look?”

“Not without me crying.”

“Then we’ll go upstairs, come on.” She murmured, picking the bandages up for you and helping you to your feet.

Tigris was still awake and sitting at a desk when you came up. She said nothing but directed you to an extravagant bathroom tucked to the side.

In the bright light, you could really see the damage. Your arm looked even more swollen and the bruises were turning purple.

Katniss sat you down on the large counter and looked at your arm, then back at your face. “How bad does it hurt?”

“Like it’s burning from the inside out.”

“Can you move it?”

Hearing those words from somebody else, and then trying to move your arm with no avail really set the sense of reality in your head and you let out a broken sob, shaking your head. “N-no… I can’t.”

“Can I touch it first? To make sure it’s broken?”

You couldn’t find a voice to muster a reply, but you let out a loud cry when she touched your arm. It felt like the world was spinning and somebody was trying to tear your arm off. You yanked away from her and curled into a ball on the counter.

“If you didn’t hide this, we could’ve gotten this over with earlier.” Katniss suddenly snapped at you.

You stared wide eyed at her and she did the same.

Then she broke.

“I’m sorry.” Katniss murmured quickly, feeling awful for only putting you in more agony. Seeing you in pain hurt her too and after everything she was as fragile as glass. “I.. probably would’ve done the same as you.”

You slowly relaxed and leaned into the wall with a heavy sigh. “I know… And I’d be the one taking care of you instead of this.” You mumbled. “I’m sorry you have to deal with me.”

Katniss’s hand rested gently on your knee and you looked back up at her. You thought she’d be upset for having to take care of you, but in her eyes was a look of gratitude. You were giving her something to focus on, something to do and feel useful, life saving, even, not life wasting.

“Don’t be.” She whispered, then something crossed into her mind and she left the bathroom.

A few minutes later she came back with some more supplies and set them down. She took your hand, being careful not to touch your arm and carefully held it out.

“I broke my arm falling out of a tree when I was younger.” Her voice was soft, wistful even for a time where although there was still pain, life was simpler, loss this deep was unknown. “My mother set it for me. I think I can still do it, but it’s going to hurt.”

“Alright...”

Katniss dumped a few Capitol painkillers into her hand and gave you a glass of water. “Take these.”

You took them without question, almost immediately feeling the pain fade. It almost felt like cheating but you said nothing as the warm Capitol drugs began to take effect on your wounded body.

As Katniss washed her hands and got ready to set your arm back into place, you suddenly felt a rush of panic even though there was no pain. You reached out with your good hand and grabbed hers.

“Just… just talk, please.” You begged softly.

Katniss hesitated. She was never the talkative type, that was your role. You were the one that dragged her outside for long walks and held her hand while you told her about the latest book you read, or told her silly made up stories until the pictures from her nightmares were gone and she could return to sleep.

You were always there for her and even though it was hard, she knew she had to be there for you too.

“Of course.” Her smile was futile but it made you feel better anyway. “Any.. requests?”

“Something happy.”

“That’ll be hard.”

“Just look at me, I’m sure you can come up with something.” Your voice was a little higher in pitch now, the drugs making you feel woozy, but good, and a bit bold.

That response actually drew the softest chuckle out of Katniss which made you feel even better.

“Okay, something happy.” Katniss stared at you for a few seconds to increase the effect, then she nodded. “Well… once upon a time, I knew this girl. She was tall, but I still towered over her by a few inches. We were neighbors back in District 12.”

Katniss’s hands rested on either side of your arm but you couldn’t even feel it now. Your eyes were closed but you were awake, listening to her soft, almost raspy voice.

“We didn’t speak a lot when we were younger, but one day she found me in the woods with a horrible thorn in my foot, and she pulled it out for me.” Katniss continued. “She wasn’t afraid of anything.”

Her hands started to find the broken spot on your arm and she began to apply pressure.

“And we’ve been friends ever since then. I taught her how to hunt and she taught me all kinds of things in return. She’s the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever met. She’s the kind of person that I’d want to spend the rest of my life with… She’s always there for me and I’m trying to be there for her.”

You listened to her speak dreamily. This person sounded–wait…

“And… we’re both going through some really tough times, and the moment isn’t exactly appropriate, but I just want to tell her how much I love her. How happy she makes me, how she makes me feel like everything is going to be okay. How she fills my stomach with butterflies and she’s just… the last light I have in my life. I was broken and she put me back together.”

A small, ditzy smile spread across your lips. You looked up at her.

Her eyes were still dark and dim but there was clear affection shining in them.

“That’s not… something happy.” You whined with a silly grin. “You’re just describing me.”

“You make me happy.”

“I do?”

“Did you not hear everything I said?” Katniss chuckled. Her warm hands were now gently cupping your face and you leaned into the touch yearningly.

“I did but…” you paused. “Weren’t you supposed to fix my arm?”

Katniss nodded. “I already did. Can you try moving it for me?” She asked gently.

To your amazement, you could actually move your arm now. Sure, even with the painkillers it was aggressively painful, but you could move it. You smiled thankfully at her and she kissed your forehead gently in reply.

Afterwards, Katniss wrapped your arm up in the best sling she could make, then she slowly helped you off the counter. You were still pretty woozy from the hefty dose of painkillers so she practically carried you back downstairs.

She quietly laid you back down in your bed, tracing your facial features with her thumb as you got settled.

“You know.. what would make me happy?” You said softly.

“Hm?”

“If you… laid here with… me.” You were slowly falling asleep but you wanted her presence, you needed it. You scooted over a little.

Katniss knew better than to argue.

Once she laid down beside you and wrapped her arm around you in a way that wouldn’t mess with your sling, she kissed the top of your head.

“I love you too.” You murmured in a slurred voice, head on her chest. “You put me back together.. and and everythings going.. to be okay…”

Katniss smiled softly once more, her heart swelling as she realized you were reciting everything she’d said before. “Only because I have you.” She whispered back as you fell asleep in your embrace.

She laid there for a few minutes and then finally felt safe enough to drift off as well.

#the hunger games #catching fire #the mockingjay #katniss everdeen #katniss everdeen x reader #katniss everdeen x fem!reader #katniss everdeen x you #x reader #comfort #I'm a sucker for hurt/comfort fics #these are my jam #request more if you want #accidentally deleted the request but the fic remains lol

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autisticlancemcclain · 1 year

Text

Keith knows his nerves must be leeching off him, because the rest of the team is overcompensating. There’s an abundance of chatting and banter, way more than usual, enough that Keith can recognise the oddity even though he’s been gone for two years. It might just be everyone’s relief after finally getting to sit down and be calm after rushing to foil Haggar’s weirdo clone plan, but Keith’s pretty sure his team has noticed his strangeness, and is trying to make him comfortable again. The thought makes him smile despite his anxiety. He’s missed them.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts by Pidge pointedly clearing her throat and using her spork to point at Krolia, who’s been about as anxious as Keith (only for her that manifests as looking like she wants to kill small cute things).

“Are you finally going to tell us who Tall Dark and Gorgeous is?” she asks, because she is the least subtle and nosiest person in the galaxy and Keith honestly should have expected it. His face flames, and his mother raises an eyebrow, while the rest of the team snickers.

Shiro tries his best to appear a little more adult. “If you wouldn’t mind introducing us, Keith.” He smiles kindly at Krolia. “You were amazing out on the field, we were really grateful to have you. Sorry for not getting us all introduced earlier.”

Krolia nods at him, smiling in an awkwardly reassuring way. “Of course, Black Paladin. There were bigger things to focus on handling.”

She returns to her food too after speaking, clearly done her piece.

Keith grimaces. He was hoping she’d introduce herself, but it looks like he’s going to have to. Fuck. (He’s not sure why he’s so opposed to it. It’s nerve-wracking, though, introducing his actual mother to his family. To his brother, his almost-father.)

“Um, Krolia, this is my family.” He points to them all and names them, rolling his eyes fondly at Lance’s wink and finger guns. He even introduces Lotor, even though he still maintains that they are not friends and Prince Hairdo has a lot of making up to do. “Everyone, this is Krolia.” He looks directly at his brother, taking strength in the man’s encouraging expression and addressing him directly. “She’s my mother.”

The entire table goes dead silent. Small conversations abruptly halt, the sounds of eating cease, silverware freezes where it was scraping on bowls. Complete and total silence.

Shiro’s face goes from encouraging and open to shocked to shuttered, jaw set and eyes narrowed.

Keith’s anxiety skyrockets. He sees his mother tense from across the table, and feels Lance go rigid beside him.

This is worse than what he expected.

“Your mother?” Shiro clarifies, words careful and controlled. He’s the first to return to movement, scooping goo into his spork almost robotically.

“Yes,” Keith says hesitantly. He doesn’t understand his brother’s reaction. He had expected some hesitance from Hunk, who is wary of newcomers, and maybe some understandable discomfort from Allura, but not…

Not Shiro. Not Shiro who is great in a crisis, who is the king of diplomacy, who has always supported Keith.

The rest of the team slowly follows Shiro’s example, returning to their meals, but there’s no more jovial conversation. All eyes are avoiding the brothers, but ears are open, movements slow and quiet so as to not miss a word.

“Hm. Interesting.” Shiro takes a bite of the goo, slowly chewing and swallowing, looking forward like he’s really contemplating. Keith watches every move carefully. “Where’d you find her?”

His tone is almost pleasant, conversational, but there’s something off and plastic about it. Forced. Like he’s talking about a volatile creature Keith has dragged home that he’s trying to be cool about, not the parent Keith has been searching for his whole life.

Keith glances surreptitiously at his mother, but she only shrugs at him. “On the space whale. Well, at the Blades, technically. She was assigned the mission with me and we both got stranded.”

Shiro makes another hum of acknowledgement, nodding to himself. He pokes aggressively at the bowl of green gelatine. “That’s wild. I would have guessed you’d have found her in a jail cell for tax evasion or something, since she seems to be the type to avoid responsibility.”

Keith blinks in shock. Two seats down, Hunk chokes on his water, and Coran thumps his back to help. Every other jaw is dropped in shock, heads swivelling from Shiro to Keith, at a total loss.

“What the fuck are you talking about,” Keith says harshly. He glances at his mother, who quickly hides the hurt on her face with a carefully practiced mask of indifference.

“Oh, nothing,” Shiro says, distractedly pushing around his goo. He sounds blasé, unbothered, but Keith recognises this tone of his, as rare as it is to hear it — the passive aggressiveness, the snooty way he speaks when he’s too furious to even yell, and just wants to make everyone around him feel stupid. “I just figured the person who abandoned her infant son without so much as a note is someone of the more irresponsible and immature variety. That’s all.”

Lance, who has never been capable of handling tenseness, stands abruptly and starts gathering the bowls and utensils of everyone at the table, regardless of whether they’re finished. Keith watches distantly as he quiets Pidge’s whining, firmly telling her to get up and bring it with her if she needs.

“She’s my mother,” Keith says through grit teeth. He pulls his gaze away from the red paladin, glaring at his brother. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Shiro finally looks up from his stupid goo, baring his teeth in a poor imitation of a smile.

“Thrilled,” he drawls.

Quietly, Krolia stands, pushing in her chair and following the rest of the team to the door. In the back of his mind, Keith wonders if it would be better for her to stay, but dismisses it just as quickly. Better for her not to hear whatever Shiro’s problem is. She walks out the door without so much as a glance backwards, and Shiro’s gaze follows her out with a sneer. Lance shoves the rest of the reluctant team out of the kitchen doors, then glances back one more time, brown eyes big and reassuring, smiling sadly before closing the doors quietly behind him.

When Keith finally returns his gaze to his brother, his eyes are wet and there’s a lump in his throat. Hurt swarms his chest as much as anger.

“You’re being a dick,” he says. His voice cracks several times as he says it.

“Oh, well, fuck me, then,” Shiro says, violently pushing his chair away from the table and stomping to his feet, grabbing his bowl with his prosthetic so tightly it cracks. He barely even glances at it, fisting the pieces and storming over to the kitchen to toss them. “Here, let me pretend.” He turns back to face Keith and forces a smile on his face, mockingly sincere. He reaches over and yanks Keith bowl away, with his flesh hand this time, and all but tosses into the sink.

There are small smears of blood on it, from the shards of porcelain that dug into Shiro’s flesh hand. Keith’s own hands shake. He scoops his and Shiro’s sporks into his hands, squeezing them tightly, and walks carefully to the sink. He resists the urge to fling them right at Shiro’s head, instead forcing himself to set them gently among the rest of the dirty dishes and standing next to his brother to rinse what he washes. He says nothing as Shiro roughly scrubs the goo pot — they’ve discovered it tastes sort of better hot, so they take the time to cook it — and practically slams it into Keith’s sink.

“Could you tell me what your fucking problem is,” he grits out. He can no longer stop his tears and they drip down his face, down his nose, over his lips, down his chin and disappearing into the dishwater. Every time he swallows, it’s bitter with salt.

“Sure,” Shiro snaps. “I have a couple questions first.”

Frankly, Keith wants to tell him right where he can shove those questions, but he wants this to be resolved more than he wants to be angry.

“Fine.”

“Great,” Shiro says with a relish, and Keith regrets it immediately. “She recognise you the second she saw you?”

Keith swallows. He has to try three times to speak, to force his voice above a whisper. “No.”

“Huh. How long’d it take her to realise?”

Keith hands shake so bad he has to set down a cup lest he drop and break it. He doesn’t want to answer. “Some time.”

“Crazy. Bet she told you she’d been looking for you, huh?”

“Stop,” Keith whispers, choking on a sob, but Shiro plows right on.

“Told you that finding you was all she ever wanted? That she’s so glad she can finally see you again?”

“Stop.”

“That you’ve turned into a fine young man she’s proud of?”

“Shut up!” Keith shouts, and the words hurt on their way out of his mouth, shoved past the giant lump in his throat. He gasps for air and can barely find it, lungs heaving, hurting everywhere, heart feeling like he’s being squeezed. He can no more stop his sobs now than he could stop a star from imploding, and they tear out of him, leaving him aching and shuddering and shaking. “Stop. Stop. I don’t know why you —”

“I’ll tell you why,” Shiro snaps, dropping the last dirty dish and gripping the sides of the steel sink so hard it warps under his prosthetic. “You remember when you showed me those pictures of your dad and his crew? When you were thirteen?”

Keith nods, sniffling, wiping his eyes with wet hands. He hears metal creak, hears hands being dried on a dishtowel, and a long, heavy sigh.

“I picked him out immediately, kid,” Shiro says quietly. Some of the overt cruelty has faded from his voice. He just sounds tired, now; bitter. “You didn’t need to point him out to me. I barely even needed to look at it. I knew who your father was immediately.”

Keith sets the last dish on a drying rack and takes a step back, leaning away from Shiro and pointedly looking away. “So?”

“So — ”and Shiro’s voice sounds almost gentle, now, apologetic, although to Keith or for Keith he’s not sure — “you look just like your Pa, Keith. You are his spitting image. The only difference is your eyes, and your height.” He glances at Keith and then snorts softly. “Well, not the height anymore.”

Keith doesn’t smile back anymore. He hears what Shiro is saying and he hates it, hates him a little for bringing it up.

“She had no reason to expect it was me,” Keith argues.

“And no reason not to recognise you if she was really looking,” Shiro retorts. “If she was exactly what she said she was, she’d recognise you.”

Keith scowls at him. His eyes still burn with tears. “I was wearing my Blade uniform. And she hadn’t seen me since I was a baby.”

Shiro’s face has started to return to the anger it held before, the frustration. “That’s the fucking point!” he shouts. “She left you! Without so much as a goodbye, or even a note! Just a cryptic knife that did nothing but confuse you!”

“There was a war to fight!”

“And she had a kid to raise!”

“What was she supposed to do about Blue, huh?” Keith demands, pushing off the counter and throwing his hands up. “Let Zarkon find her? She had to protect the universe!”

“She had to protect her fucking kid.”

“One kid is not worth more than the entire universe!”

“You are!”

Keith freezes. Shiro barely notices, face twisted in rage so badly that he’s barely even looking at Keith, fists clenched hard enough to creak, fury radiating off of him.

“What?” Keith asks in a small voice, but Shiro plows on.

“You’re her fucking kid. You come first. You come before any other kid, you come before her mission, you come before the fucking universe. That’s how having a kid works. They’re the priority. And anyone who leaves their family behind like that is unforgivably despicable.”

The truth comes crashing down at Keith all at once. He looks at his brother with wide eyes, unclouded with his own hurt, and sees for the first time all the pure hate and rage and pain — not directed at Krolia, not even a little, but sharpened to a point and shoved back into himself.

Anyone who leaves their family behind is unforgivably despicable.

The words ring through the room. Keith hears them repeat a thousand time in three seconds. A million different memories whirl through him at once, all tinged with a pain and a border of abandonment; memories he hasn’t let himself touch since he got to space.

“I don’t blame you for Kerberos,” Keith says quietly. He waits a beat. “I never have.”

Shiro says nothing. His expression is frozen, body unmoving, but his dark black eyes — the eyes that chose him first, that followed him with pride, that were the first to look at him softly when his heritage came out and everything went to shit, that he used to cry and sob and beg to have so that Shiro could be his brother in more than name — are wrought with pain. His face does not crumple, but his eyes are like shattered volcanic glass, and slowly they fill with water, and a drop escapes the corner of his almond eye, dripping slowly down his cheek.

“How can you ever forgive her?” he asks, near silent, voice rough as sandpaper and twice as painful.

How can you ever forgive me?

Keith chokes back his tears and meets his brother’s eyes head-on, determined and steady and loving as Shiro always has been when Keith was the one shattering.

“Easily.”

Shiro swallows. It’s loud, deafening in the silence of the room. The sound of it, the knowledge that Shiro is pushing his pain down but it’s coming up anyway, makes Keith’s chin tremble.

“I don’t deserve easy.”

“You deserve whatever I want to give you.”

Finally Shiro breaks, and sobs. And sobs and sobs and sobs. His cries seem the yank the life out of him, drain himself of energy; his knees hit the floor with a crack and he crumples at Keith’s feet.

“Forgive me,” he begs, like he knows he doesn’t deserve it.

Keith gently kneels next to him and reaches out, almost afraid to touch. “I already did.” He reaches out finally and holds his brother, his big brother who was stronger than his body and bigger than his dream and catapulted Keith up to the stars with him, and holds him together as he cries.

“I forgave you before you even left,” Keith whispers, when Shiro’s sobs don’t sound so painful. He squeezes tighter, because he’s almost worried that he needs to keep Shiro all together. “So did Adam.”

The mention of Shiro’s…whatever Adam is to him makes him cry harder, but Keith pushes on, sure that he needs to know.

“The day you went missing, he broke into your apartment. Went looking for the rings. He never took it off after. Never stopped looking for you, either. He forgave you, too.”

Shiro cries something, too warbled to make out, but Keith can make a pretty good guess as to what it was.

“You do deserve it,” he says firmly. “You are not a monster. You are not undeserving of our love, Shiro, of any of our love. We have always loved you as you are. Don’t rob of us the chance.”

“I don’t actually hate your mother,” Shiro whispers.

Keith laughs wetly. “I got that one, dumbass. Use your words next time.”

Shiro smiles slightly, wisely not agreeing. They both know he won’t. They both know this will probably happen to him again, and probably Keith, too — they may not be blood brothers, but they’ve always been alike anyway. Neither has ever been good at expressing themselves, at letting themselves be vulnerable.

But Keith holds his brother tighter, and thinks of their family who loves them with all their shit, despite it and because it, and thinks that they’ll make it through anyway.

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joyfuladorable · 1 year

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Dragon of the Sun by @forestwhisper3

(Ch.5&6>)

You know, it was kind of weird...

Mikey sat on the living room couch, the sci-fi movie he was watching fading into the background after a really campy fight scene between two psychics reminded him of something.

The first time he'd had a freaky dream that ended up sort of true, he'd chalked it up to some weird crystal mumbo-jumbo messing with him. He figured it was a one-and-done sort of thing, especially since he hadn't had another since leaving the underground city.

But now it had happened again, and this time there were no crystals to blame.

GAHHHH!!!! THIS FIC!!! MYSTIC MIKEY BUT IT'S 03 MIKEY!!!!! This fic has my whole damn heart, holy shit! Author does a fantastic job diverging from canon and giving us all the family feels and character depth that the show didn't. My heart? Palpating, pumping, melting onto the damn floor!! Go read it!!!

#tmnt #tmnt 2003 #tmnt 2k3 #tmnt mikey #tmnt leo #ultimate drako #tmnt griddex #tmnt donnie #my art #fic fanart #good gods this took me a WHILE #had to sketch the 03 boys a bit before I felt confident enough to draw em again #also Ultimate Drako my Beloathed you motherfucker I hope I never have to draw you again #although I DO admit that I think I did great on em #woulda taken me even longer if I didn't restrict myself to a page per chapter #might still doodle more cuz AHHH there's so many good scenes in this fic!!#also also sorry not sorry for drawing Mikey crying in 3 out of 4 pages lol #he gets immediately comforted by his bros (even an alt universe one) so it's okay!! (kinda)

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eldritch-ambrosia · 22 days

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you kiss me and it stops time

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

Merlin is frozen.

He’s stiff and warm and his hands are spread in the air and he thinks he’ll be stuck like this forever. Arthur’s lips are soft, though, and his hands are gentle against Merlin’s cheeks so there really were worse places to be stuck.

Arthur doesn’t seem to think so, leaning back before Merlin can gather his thoughts–and lips– to respond, still cradling his face. He goes to pull away but Merlin finds it in himself to reach out, grasping at Arthur’s wrists to keep him close.

The prince swallows, his lips parted and beautiful, searching Merlin’s face with his crystal clear eyes.

“Merlin… I’m…” He pauses, his brow crinkling. “Do you hear that?”

For a moment, he thinks Arthur can hear his heartbeat, echoing through his ears and through the stables. He can’t hear anything but the rapid beating in his chest and the heavy breaths that pass between them, the world silent around them.

Silent.

Merlin blinks, Arthur stepping back toward the door to the stables, leaning his head out. The servant follows, still holding onto one of his wrists, and gazes out to the castle grounds.

The sun shines brightly overhead across all of Camelot and, at a glance, seems completely ordinary. However, the knights across the field are stopped completely in their long strides, one of the riding horses’ head is turned, its mane circling its muzzle suspended in the air, and one of the servants’ hands are outstretched, a pot of water spilling over but not flowing in the slightest.

Camelot is frozen, trapped in time.

His heart drops, nails digging into Arthur’s wrist, the aura of magic surrounding them familiar. An extension of his own magic, gripping his chest, and a sickly feeling settles in his stomach.

“What…?” Arthur mutters, reaching for his blade, placing a hand on the hilt. “Who could’ve done this?”

His tone is accusatory and asked to the air, not expecting a response and Merlin’s eyes burn from tears. Squeezing them shut tight as he reaches out with his magic, with his very being, he begs anything that could hear to make it all okay. To make time move again and take them both back to that moment Arthur approached him in the stables.

He’s not ready.

❀✿❀✿❀✿❀✿

(psst you can read the rest of this on ao3 by clicking the link at the top!)

#bbc merlin #merlin #arthur pendragon #merthur #bbc merthur #fanfiction #rose writes #short little magic reveal fic #because Stay Don't Go came on shuffle #and i went #'oh hell yeah merthur'#i love little fluff/ hurt/comfort fics #i wrote this like 2 months ago #and forgot about it until I checked my wip doc lol #also idk if it's technically hurt/comfort but that's what I tagged it

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endwersed · 2 months

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Writing Patterns

Tagged by @raisesomehale 🥰

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

striking out, (on hiatus) WIP, sterek human college au, 47k

The locker room is just how Derek remembers it.

feels so good inside, sterek human au, 12k

The worst thing about being an eighteen-year-old virgin and loser is, well – being an eighteen-year-old virgin and loser.

i was yours once, stackson into sterek, 9k

Water rains down over Stiles’ head, fat droplets of it catching in his eyelashes as he grits his teeth and presses a tight fist against the tiled wall of the school locker room showers.

in flux, sterek human college au, 25k

By Derek Hale’s junior year of college, he has come to know that there is nothing quite like the party after scoring the winning basket of a game.

another name for love, sterek au, 37k

Derek wakes up to the sound of a door creaking open slowly, a faint and careful noise nudging into his dreamless sleep and dragging him into consciousness.

does one good, sterek pwp, 5.5k

Stiles is still mostly focused on towelling at his damp hair as he pads into the living room of his apartment on bare feet, humming a repetitive tune under his breath and scratching lazily at a patch of skin just under the hem of his t-shirt, over the waistband of his boxers.

as dear as a brother, sterek human au, 10k

Stiles Stilinski meets Scott Delgado on the first day of freshman orientation at Berkeley and immediately knows they’ll be best bros for life.

and i'll write you a tragedy, sterek superhero au, 37k

It’s pretty cool living in a world with superheroes, all things considered.

how fast or how far, sterek human au, 9k

Faint, early morning sunlight streams through the cracks in the blinds, casting a colourful vision against the linoleum tiles as Stiles stands awkwardly in front of the kitchen sink.

baby, you got the keys, sterek human college au, 2k

It’s an unfortunate truth that Stiles didn’t get to take advantage of owning a car practically made for fooling around in during his high school years.

#sterek #my fic #open tag to anyone who wants it!#i definitely love a good college au lol #and i am definitely more comfortable writing from stiles' pov

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ivoreene · 2 years

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quick doodle of shinsou and his dad... been thinking of them recently. i miss them :[

#i want them to be happy #im not even following bnha anymore i just make sure i know whats going on with the erasermic family LOL #love reading aizawa adopting shinsou fics :] my comfort fics #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #mha #aizawa shouta #aizawa shota #shinsou hitoshi #shinso hitoshi #my art

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koobiie · 3 months

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fanart for what may be my favorite fic of all time, Running Behind by @asidian! here's prompto enjoying all the foods from the fic beacuse he deserves it <3

#ffxv #prompto argentum #final fantasy xv #final fantasy 15 #im going to be wild in the tags here for a moment. this fic makes me CRRRRRRRAZZZZZZEYYYYYYYYYYYYY #like barking snarling yowling tearing up dirt with my hands taking bites out of the drywall #its like old at this point but every couple of years i remember it and im like well here i go again! and reread it in a several hour sprint #and then scream and cry nad throw up cause i love it soooo so much #seriously i recommend it so sohard . honestly even if you dont like ffxv #ultimate hurt comfort fic checks off all my boxes 11/10 explodeing #oh yes also the art is here. yea i got carried away drawing the foods jfkdslhglks #hi author if you read these tags im sorry for pinging you about your fic that came out like. 7 years ago #but ive been meaning to make fanart for it for sooooo long cause i love it and i finally got around to it lol #koob art #digital art #im going to be pissed if theres a food i forgot to include lmao #anyways yea i <3 prompo my scrinkly winkly crunkly doo he deserfes happines. im going to disappear into the sunset now

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icybluepenguin · 3 months

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The Sweetest Screams

Summary: Astarion relives a night of torture under Cazador. You wake him up and help him feel better by telling him how you see all the parts of him. Inspired by his lines “I am more than what you made me” and “I feel safe with you. Seen.” This is kind of exploring how he got there.

Pairing: Astarion x gender neutral Tav/reader

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Dark, Whump, Torture, Graphic Description, Emotional Abuse, Physical Abuse, Cazador, Godey, breaking bones, cuts, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Emotional Comfort, feeling seen & safe, Praise, Love, Astarion Has A Bad Time, I'm Sorry, but then he gets put back together again with lots of love and fluff

Note: Extra extra thanks to @brabblesblog and @leomonae for taking their time to beta & edit this. 💙 Go check out their work, they're amazing!

This link will take you past the torture, if you want to read the comfort/fluffy part: Skip hurt only comfort (goes to Ao3)

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“Astarion…”

The dark singsong voice in his head sent a shiver down his spine. It was cloyingly sweet and full of false enticement.

He balled up the shirt he'd been working on and hurried to hide it, together with his needle and thread. He didn't want his siblings to find them; he knew he wouldn't be able to come back for a while.

“Come to me, child.”

Astarion had no choice but to obey.

What had he done wrong? Has he not been the very model of obedience lately? Even his siblings had noticed, calling him the master's little lapdog. Had he not brought back a beautiful half-elf for his master?

He huffed at himself. As if it ever mattered what he had or had not done. There was only one thing that tone of voice meant.

Astarion knew where to find him. Even without the vague sense he always had of where his sire was, Astarion knew what to expect tonight.

The master was bored.

Astarion made his way down dark hallways, his feet moving on their own. He felt like he was floating. He passed no one on his way– was that his mistake tonight? He had come back too early, before the others, and so was the only target?

The stench of the kennels wafted over him as he opened the door. Decay, despair, rust. Fetid and heavy.

The master was there, as expected, sitting in an ornate chair that had been dragged in just for the occasion. A body slumped on a table next to him; still alive, but barely. The man Astarion had brought back not two hours ago, now with a huge, dripping gash on his neck. The scent of blood made Astarion feral, his hunger roaring through his dread.

It was going to be a long night.

“Is this how you greet your master, boy?”

The master dragged a finger through the oozing blood on the body, bringing it to his lips to lick it off. Astarion's mouth watered, his whole body aching for a taste of it.

Astarion knelt, back straight and head bowed. “Good evening, Master. H-how can I serve you?” He hated the tremble in his voice he could never get rid of. Hadn't he been tortured enough by now? Shouldn't it not bother him any longer? Why must he be so weak?

“Remove your clothes. We do not want them getting stained, do we? They are already pathetic.”

And whose fault is that, Astarion couldn't help but think, and then cowered into his own mind, stripping his shirt off faster, as if it would erase his blasphemous thought. He folded his clothes with trembling hands, quickly, terrified to be seen as anything but obedient.

“We will make lovely music for the master, won't we, little one?” Godey chattered as Astarion placed his folded bundle somewhere the spray of blood wouldn't reach it. “We are so lucky he is joining us tonight. We will put on a good show for him.”

The skeleton’s genial, eager voice washed over Astarion as he planted his feet, shivering uncontrollably, his eyes unfocused and pointed at the wall. There was nothing to do now but endure. He couldn't stop this.

“Start with his face, Godey. I want to see his lovely features covered in bruises.” The master took another drink from the body, blood coating his lips. “And you, Astarion. Stand still and scream prettily for me.”

Godey's bare finger bones creaked as they folded into a fist. Astarion closed his eyes, knowing that bracing for the blow was useless, but the instinct hadn't died yet. Pain bloomed across his cheek; he barely had time to gasp before the other side was punched - harder. It split his lip, his own blood bright on his tongue.

He swayed on his feet, dizzy and starving. When was the last time he ate? The scent of rich, fresh blood filled the air, the master playing with his meal as he watched. Astarion, so, so desperately hungry, almost bared his fangs for a taste. He could never touch that blood, even if he were not too weak to take it. But he wanted it so badly even the cracking of his cheekbone from the rain of blows didn't ache as much as the hunger did.

Astarion knew what the master wanted. A tiny, contrary part of him– a part he had tried hard to crush– demanded he make the master earn his screams. He could indulge in this small withholding, this smallest sip of power, couldn't he?

It wouldn't matter either way. They would destroy him, it was inevitable as the sunrise.

He could barely see now, his eyes swelling nearly shut. His head was spinning. He staggered down to his knees, hands splayed in front of him to keep him from falling on his ruined face. He thought there were tears, but he couldn't feel them.

“Do not slouch, boy.”

Astarion tried to stand, but his brain seemed to slosh in his head and he collapsed back down. The earliest wounds were already starting to heal. But it was slow- it had been so long since he'd fed.

“Weak,” the master sneered, the word full of disappointment and disgust. “I told you to stand still. Such a simple command and yet you cannot follow it.”

Godey’s hand grabbed his hair, the bones scraping on his scalp, pulling back to bend his neck at a cruel angle. There was something in its other hand, something red with dried blood.

When the blade touched his skin, he begged. It was what they wanted. In a slurred, breathy voice, he begged for mercy, for forgiveness, for the knife to stop slicing his skin into hideous art.

He begged for death.

It did not matter. There was no rhyme or reason to this.

His pleas were worthless. He was worthless. Nothing he did changed anything, now or ever. He was nothing. Weak.

“Please, I'm sorry… Just kill me, please, let me die…”

The master sighed with frustration. “Always such yapping from you. Are you never out of words?”

His only purpose was to be entertainment. For his master, for his victims. He only existed to be pleasing, and his pain was pleasing to them.

He couldn't even do that right.

The master stood. Astarion rocked back and forth, whimpering, trying to pay attention to the master's movements, to anticipate what the master would want from him, but the burning, stinging, overwhelming pain consumed him.

An elegant hand held something wriggling and squeaking to Astarion's face.

Fresh.

Alive.

It's a trick.

His body acted before he could think. He snatched the treat with greedy hands and sank his fangs into its twisting body before it could be taken from him. He drained it in huge gulps, finishing far too soon, sucking on its empty body long after it had ceased to give him blood.

“Disgusting. Have you no manners, boy?”

The master's eyes glowed a brighter red and magic seized him, yanking him to his feet.

The rat dropped from his mouth and he whined, still starving. His wounds were healing faster, burning through what little nourishment he'd gotten. He knew it was a trick, food was always a trick. It didn't matter. He wanted more.

His body was contorted, forcing him back to his knees, arms extended in front of him.

The master grabbed his chin, examining the closing cuts on his face and the rat blood that had dripped down his neck. “Not even a ‘thank you’ for your dinner? What an unruly child. After all I have done for you– such wasted effort.” His palm cracked across Astarion's face, making his head snap to the side, making his broken cheekbone shriek with renewed vigor. “At least we have stopped your yapping, for once.”

Haven't I been obedient, didn't I bring you a beautiful meal? he wanted to wail. What more can I do?

The master wiped his hand clean of blood on Astarion's hair and returned to his chair. “I have not heard him scream yet. Break his hands. That is always a delightful sound.”

“Oh yes, we haven't done this in a long time. Last time, you sounded so pretty, little one,” Godey hummed as it rummaged for something out of Astarion’s sight.

Astarion's stomach dropped like a stone, his muscles yanking helplessly against the magic. Beat him, flay him, drain him, but–

He sobbed, “Please, I've been good, please, I'll be so good,” knowing that mercy did not exist in this room. They would cut him and break him until they tired of it, dragging his pulverized body to one of the blood-stained palettes until he healed enough to do it all again.

And again.

“Stop making such a fuss, little one. Godey will take good care of you, just like always.” The skeleton raised a pair of large pliers into Astarion's view.

The metal jaws were intensely cold on his finger. No, no no-

He screamed for them. He screamed until his throat was raw, until his voice was gone, and still he screamed. The master's pleased laughter cut through his own noises to ring in his ears. The master's delight wouldn't save him. Nothing would save him from the crushing, crunching, ripping–

“Astarion. Astarion!”

He jerked.

There was no pain.

The air smelled clean and… sweet.

He stared blankly up at a face that had skin and softness, not naked bone.

You. You were there. He was in your tent in… Rivington. Yes, that's where he was. Not the kennels.

“You were screaming.”

He swallowed, noticing the soreness in his throat.

“They're getting worse, the closer we get to Baldur's Gate, aren't they?”

“Well, it's not as if I have any happy memories to meditate with,” he said, trying to wave it away even though his voice was hoarse. It was getting worse, the closer he got to home. Instead of memories that he could replay as an observer, detached, he felt swallowed by them. Forced to relive every torturous detail. He held his hands in front of his face to be sure they weren't crushed to a pulp. He could almost still feel it.

He was desperate to kill Cazador. Every second of delay was interminable. He wanted to be truly free of the man, to see his corpse at his feet and know that Cazador would never touch him again. And if he could take all of his potential power for himself? Even better.

But he was also terrified to his very core to see his old master again. What if he couldn't do it? He was stronger now, but he still felt too weak for this. And what if something happened to you? He would never forgive himself.

“I’m sorry that I woke you,” he said. “Go back to sleep, darling. I'm fine.” Guilt made his stomach twist. You got precious little sleep as it was, and he was making it worse. After all you had done for him. Ungrateful. Unruly.

“Yeah, that's not happening. You were screaming. I'm not going back to sleep and leaving you alone.” You cupped his face in your hands, rubbing his temples with your thumbs. “Tell me about it.”

He didn't want to; wanted to shove it down and pretend it had never happened, like every other time. He hated to burden you, to make you listen to him yapping. You deserved better.

“Astarion,” you said gently. “I know that look. Try me. Please.”

He felt so brittle under your touch. Ready to shatter into a thousand pieces if he wasn't careful. Gods, he wanted to tell you everything as much as he didn't want to tell you a single thing.

“It was just…” He struggled for a quip, but nothing came. “It was a memory of Cazador's torments. Nothing special.”

“Come on.” You stood, grabbing his hand to urge him up. “We're going outside.”

“Outside?” He was completely baffled.

“Yes.” You pulled the blanket off the bedroll and led him out, the both of you barefoot and in your nightclothes.

The moon was bright and low on the horizon, its silver light shining on you as you picked your way across camp, still holding his hand. Astarion inhaled deeply, the cool air filling his lungs. He hadn't even realized he had felt trapped in the small space of the tent but now, as a breeze tickled his hair, he couldn't imagine going back inside.

He couldn't stand to keep the words trapped inside either. They came haltingly at first, half-mumbled as if he hoped you wouldn't hear. But by the time you were spreading out the blanket on a patch of soft grass, the memory was pouring out. It was easier out here in the open with you not staring at him, while he choked back emotion, trying and failing to stay aloof and sarcastic about it all.

You sat next to him, fingers laced through his in silent comfort.

When he was done, he waited for the pity, for you to see him as a broken, pathetic thing. He knew you couldn't make these memories go away, could never remove the pain of them. You couldn't make it so he hadn’t lived them.

But you surprised him again.

You squeezed his hand just a little too hard. “We are going to destroy that rat-bastard. There won't be enough pieces of him left to fill a chalice when we're done with him.”

He coughed, a laugh stuck in his throat from the uncharacteristic venom in your voice. “Well, I do appreciate that, darling. It wasn't even the worst night,” he shrugged. “Or maybe it was one of many similar worst nights. Hard to pick, really.” He sighed. “It was usually one or the other of them. But nights when Cazador was bored… When he wanted to be… entertained, those held an extra layer of humiliation.”

He pulled his hand from you, wrapping his arms around his knees, curling his body around the sudden crushing pressure in his chest. Weak. Pathetic. Disgusting. Never obedient enough. Never good enough.

He strangled back the tears that threatened to fall. “I was nothing to them. Less than a dog. Just… an object to be broken at their whims.”

Astarion put his head on his knees, huddled as tightly as he could get, but the shame and despair and fear wouldn't stop growing. Weak.

“And this wretched contract. All the shit Cazador put me through, the centuries of torment… just to be consumed so that he can attain greater power?” Why, why did that hurt? He hated Cazador to the very depths of his soul. Being discarded, though, even by him, being so worthless that only his death mattered at all crushed his heart.

Bitterness twisted his lips and he huffed. “Being consumed. That's what I was made for.”

“Astarion-”

“I'm only good for entertainment. I'm a toy. Sex or torture, it doesn't matter.” I don't matter.

“That's not true at all.”

“Oh, isn't it?” he snapped, head jerking up to glare at you. “How did this start then?” He gestured between you. “You just had to sleep with the sexy vampire, didn't you.”

He bit his lip hard. Lashing out was easier than being honest, pushing the hurt onto someone else, being the one to wield the knife for once. He cowered deeper into his knees. And after he had woken you and you were staying awake with him. Ungrateful. Unruly. Weak. Pathetic.

But you didn't rise to the bait.

“Why are you even with me?” he asked in a quiet, broken voice - the question that had been lurking in the back of his mind since you'd chosen him, the question that begged to be answered whenever he looked at you but that he could never utter, terrified of what you would say. “I’m too much wasted effort. I can't give you anything. Not sex, not safety…”

“What in our time together gives you the impression that I am someone concerned with safety?” There was a bit of laughter in your words, incredulous but gentle. “I was never with you for the sex. It was nice-”

Even drowning as he was, Astarion couldn't keep from retorting, “It was more than just ‘nice.’”

Your slightly exasperated smile warmed his hurting heart.

“Fine, it was mind-blowing in every way. But that was not and is not and never will be why I love you.”

You had never said it before. Love. But you said it so clearly, so naturally, as if there was no question at all, that Astarion's eyes welled with tears. He blinked them back.

You touched him carefully, drawing his head up to look at you but giving him the chance to pull away. “I love you, Astarion. All the broken pieces, all the rough edges, all the contradictory mishmash. I love the gleeful little noise you make when we find some good treasure. And the pride on your face after you open a particularly hard lock. I love watching you read, I love watching you embroider, I love watching you try to learn necromancy. Mm, if I were worried about safety, I probably shouldn't let you do that.”

Something started to uncurl from the tight, painful ball in his chest as Astarion watched you talk about him with bright enthusiasm. He hadn't realized how much attention you'd paid to the small details of him.

“I love listening to you. I love seeing you smile. Gods above, I love seeing you smile.” You smiled to yourself at the memory of it. “I've watched you grow from being so afraid– understandably– to trusting us. Trusting me enough to let me know you. And I am so glad you did. I'm so glad you're here.”

“And I'm beautiful, don't forget that,” he said with forced airiness to deflect, adoring the praises and uncomfortable with being so seen at the same time.

“You are unfairly beautiful. But that's not what this is about. You are brave, Astarion. You've thrown yourself into battles with goblins and cultists and a hag, fights that would have given trained soldiers a fright. You don't take shit from anyone. Not even explosive wizards or transdimensional warriors or whatever the hells Withers is.”

Your voice lowered and you touched your forehead to his. “I love you. All of you.”

Three little words… everyone's favorite. He had used them to con hundreds of people. Hundreds had said it to him in a lust-driven haze. This was something so vastly different.

He could feel it. It wasn't just three little words. It settled in his ribs, sweet and precious and sincere.

“May I kiss you?”

The question surprised him. But now that you had asked, he wanted it badly. To feel connected to you, to this new life, to feel like he was wanted.

“Please,” he said.

But you didn't lean in as he expected.

You picked up his hand, laying a soft kiss on each joint. You kissed his palm, turning it over to kiss the other side. You laid another on his wrist and then did the same with the other hand, slow and methodical. These weren't teasing or erotic. It was, he realized, as if he were a small child. You cupped his face and pressed your warm lips to his cheek, to the bridge of his nose, to his brow.

Everywhere that he had said he'd been hurt.

He couldn't hold back the tears any longer. They surged up in a tidal wave, the simple kindness of your kisses flooding him, and he buried his head in your neck with a whimper.

“Shh, I've got you,” you whispered, stroking his hair. “It's okay.”

He wrapped his arms around you, clinging like he'd be lost without you grounding him. His hands clawed into your nightshirt; all the longing and doubt and fear and rage that he'd been shoving away crashed over him, impossible to ignore, impossible to hold. It poured out of him in gasping, ugly sobs.

You just held him, rubbing his back, occasionally murmuring something comforting or encouraging.

He cried until he was empty, until the raging storm had passed and all he felt was exhausted and drained. His grip on you loosened, but he didn't let go. He listened to your breathing, consciously pulling air in and out of his lungs to match. It was soothing.

He was a mess and so was your shirt. He felt shaky and vulnerable, tender like a new wound.

But he didn't feel weak.

“Here, my love,” you said, holding your wrist up. “Eat. You'll feel better.”

He almost dissolved into tears again. There was no trick, no hidden motive, just food because he needed it.

Taking your arm, he did his best to bite gently. It was the least he could do. You hissed and tensed but wouldn't let him pull away.

“Just stings a little more than I expected. I'm fine. Eat, please.”

It was exceedingly peaceful, watching the sky slowly lighten and the stars fade, slumped against your shoulder with the rich taste of your blood in his mouth. You stroked his back with your free hand, and he thought, maybe this was what home was supposed to feel like.

Loved. Wanted. Seen.

Master Post

#my writing #This is the doc that gave me such anxiety editing #Not even because of the content #I asked for help and these lovely people gave it #And my brain went absolutely haywire with guilt lol #but it's done now my brain can calm down right #right???#brain: outlook hazy try again later #hurt/comfort #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #dead dove fic

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