#tw: grieving

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter Eight (Finale)

Chapter Eight

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, feelings, heart-to-heart, fluff, kissing 

Words: 2,641

A/N: That's all folks! Thank you all for reading and for coming on this journey with me. I appreciate all of you more than you know! 💖 I'm sure going to miss these two, but it was fun getting them to where they needed to go.

Huge thank you again to my gorgeous beta: @negans-lucille-tblr I’m not sure this would’ve even been posted without your encouragement, and thank you doesn’t seem like enough 😘

Now… go and grab those tissues!!

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Y/N’s POV

The first few minutes in the car are spent in awkward silence and it kills you. The relationship you have with Dean has always been easy and to think it’s been damaged beyond repair makes you sad.

“So…” Dean finally breaks the silence between you when you stop at a red light. “Good lunch?” He glances over at you and you scoff.

“That’s where you wanna go here? How was lunch?” You laugh, but it’s not the humourous kind.

“If you don’t mind, I’d much rather we get to the point and just agree that last night was a mistake and won’t happen again. So let’s do that, let’s pretend it never happened, not talk about it ever again and try to go back to the way things were.” You finish and turn your head to look out the car window.

“Before we do that, I need to say something. Last night meant everything to me,” he looks over at you and waits until you turn back towards him and meet his gaze. “Everything, Y/N. I don’t know when it happened, but I do know when I realised I was in love with you.”

“Dean…” you mutter. His words shock you, that’s about as much as you know right now, and you’re glad Dean ignores the interruption and continues talking, because you have no idea how to respond.

“It was when your car broke down on the hottest damn day of the year,” he chuckles at the memory, “and you called me for a tow. I was driving down the road you were stopped on, and I saw you sitting on the hood of your car, and you looked so beautiful. I swear you were glowing in the sunlight. It was like you had a goddamn halo or something! And my heart just stopped, and I thought ‘shit, I’m in trouble here,’ since then, I can’t stop thinking about you. You’re the first thing I think of when I open my eyes in the morning and the last before I fall asleep. Fuck… I tried to stop, I swear I did…

“I know this is hard for you to hear and it’s probably the last thing you want to deal with right now and that’s okay. But, I need you to know you were not a mistake, sweetheart. I don’t regret what we did and I never will. I know we have something that could work if you give us a chance, because you can’t fake the kinda connection we had last night. But if you want to pretend last night never happened and go back to how things were, then I’ll do that for you… but if I’m right and you feel something more for me, please, tell me.”

You remain silent and take in his confession. He’s right, you do have feelings for him, the trouble is, you don’t know if you can trust yourself. Are they real feelings, or are you mistaking them for the comfort and familiarity Dean gives you?

And then you ask yourself where this can even go. He’s your husband’s brother; people will talk. And it’s not that you care what they’ll say necessarily, there are other factors involved here. Including how John will feel, and the impact such a “scandal” could have on the family business. More importantly, though, you don’t know if you can do that to Sam.

“You know what? Forget I said anything. Your silence says it all, Y/N. Let’s just sweep last night under the carpet and chalk it down to bad judgement,” you know Dean is hurt because his voice comes out weak and defeated and you despise yourself for it.

“It wasn’t,” it’s barely audible, but at least you got something out.

“Wasn’t what?” Dean asks.

“Bad judgement,” you clarify. “And I do feel something for you, I just…” you sigh, and let your thoughts hang in the air as you try and decipher what this all means and what the best thing to do is.

“Alright,” Dean nods his head. “When we get home, we’re going to talk about all of this, okay?” Dean fixes his gaze on you and you nod in agreement. “We need to lay our cards on the table and hear each other out. It’s the only way we’ll be able to get past this, whatever this is, or ends up being.”

Again, you know he’s right. You need to get it all out in the open and be completely honest with each other because it’s the only way you’ll be able to keep Dean in your life.

“Okay,” you agree with a nod.

You go back to spending the journey in silence, but it’s not quite as heavy and suffocating as before, and you have the tiniest glimmer of hope that everything will work out just fine.

Sitting on your sofa next to Dean, you hand him a tumbler with a decent measure of whiskey and untuck the bottle from under your arm to place it on the table. In a bid for more time, you take a long sip from your wine glass as you desperately try to figure out what the hell just happened and how you ended up in this position. Dean speaks first and you sigh in relief as you’re at a complete loss for words.

“I just wanna start by saying I meant what I said,” Dean begins. “All of it,” he adds before you can question him. “I have fallen in love with you, and last night did mean the world to me.” With that, he downs the whiskey in one gulp and refills his glass. Now, at least you have your first question.

“So why didn’t you stay with me? Why did you get up and drink all night?” you ask quietly.

“We got so caught up in the moment, and neither of us even stopped to think,” he looks down at the floor and you can see and feel the shame radiating from him in waves.

“When we were finished and you were sleeping in my arms, it was like everything came crashing back to reality. I felt guilty for doing that to Sam, I felt ashamed for taking advantage of you when you were upset, I knew I’d ruined things between us and I knew I had no one to blame but myself.

“I didn’t mean to stay away all night,” Dean says, looking at you for the first time since he’d started to explain himself. “I only intended to have one or two to help me sleep, but I got upset and… two became four, and well… you saw me this morning.”

“You know you didn’t take advantage of me, right? That if I didn’t want it to happen, it wouldn’t have?” you ask him, reaching a hand out to cup his cheek and pushing gently to make him look at you. “Dean, I swear to you, I wanted it too…” you begin, but a scoff from the green-eyed man next to makes you frown.

“So this morning was what?” He looks at you pleadingly, like he was silently asking you to tell him that he hadn’t been a mistake.

“One big miscommunication, apparently,” you chuckle sadly. “Dean, when I woke up this morning, the first thing I felt was guilt for doing that to Sam. And when I turned over to seek you out, to get some comfort and to be told we didn’t do anything wrong, I was met with a cold bed.

“Fine, I thought, maybe he feels some of the guilt I do and was awake early, or couldn’t sleep… but when I came downstairs and saw the empty bottle and the bloodshot eyes, I went to the worst thing I could think of. Regret. And I went on the defensive, and for that I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left without talking to you.”

“And I should’ve never left you alone. I’m truly sorry, sweetheart. Not once did it cross my mind that you’d feel the way you did. You know, knowing that makes me feel worse than the guilt ever could.” Dean’s words are full of sincerity and you nod, believing everything he’s told you tonight.

“Okay, so we both agree we did nothing wrong and that it wasn’t a mistake, but I still feel like we haven’t resolved this,” you say looking up at him. Dean nods his head in agreement, but remains silent, staring at you intently. You know this part is up to you–he’s already told you how he feels–but you stall by taking a few more sips of wine.

“I know Sam is gone, and no matter how much I want it, he’s never coming back. I know he’d want me to be happy and to find someone to love and who loves me,” you glance up at Dean and see hope in his expression. “But I feel like I’d be cheating on him or something if that person is you. And,” you continue quickly, wanting to get everything out at once, “I don’t know if I really feel what I feel for you, or if I’m confusing your familiarity with Sam for real feelings.”

Dean nods and reaches his hand out to stroke your cheek. “I understand that, sweetheart. I feel the same way, but you’re right, he’d want you to be happy, and if that ends up being with me, then we’ll get through it together. And if it isn’t with me, then I’ll help you get through it.”

You think about what Dean said, your heart filling with hope that no matter what, he’d still have your back. “How do I know if what I feel is real?”

“Well, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “I can’t help with that, that’s gotta be all you. Only you know how you feel and what’s real or not.”

Placing your wine glass on the coffee table, you shift closer to Dean and tentatively place your head on his shoulder. You smile as you hear him sigh happily.

“C’mere,” he opens his arms and lets you cuddle into his chest before putting his arms around you and kissing your forehead. The warmth and safety of Dean’s embrace spreads over you like you’ve just lay down in a hot bath, and it makes you hum in pure contentment.

His arms squeeze you tighter into his body and you find yourself raising your head to look at him. Really look at him. His bright green eyes show you nothing but tenderness. You scan your eyes over the freckles that dust his face like a beautiful, undiscovered constellation; he truly is a stunning man.

Dean licks his lips, bringing your attention to them and your memories drift to last night and how those lips felt on yours and your body. Slowly, you tilt your head and move closer to him, gently pressing your lips to his.

Hesitantly, Dean opens his mouth and you take him up on his invitation, deepening the kiss and moaning as your tongues meet. The kiss is gentle and slow, neither of you in a rush to be anywhere but right here at this moment.

With your lips still attached to his, you straddle him and settle down in his lap. Feeling the beginnings of a bulge in his jeans, you grind your core into it, smirking at his groan.

“Y/N, sweetheart.” Dean is breathless, and you find the effect you have on him intoxicating. “If you want a repeat of last night, I’m all yours, but I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you, Dean.”

Six Weeks Later

“Hey, handsome,” you smile. “It’s been a while and I’m sorry for that,” you say as you sit cross-legged at Sam’s grave. “I’ve had some things going on that I needed to work out,” you pause and pick at the strands of grass around you. 

“Something happened that I never thought would. I fell in love again. He makes me happy, Sammy. And I know he’s a good man and he’ll treat me right. If he doesn’t I’ll kick his ass,” you chuckle. “Then I’ll come here and beg you to haunt him!” your smile quickly turns to a sob.

“It’s Dean, Sam. I fell in love with Dean but I didn’t mean to. It just happened. And I need you to know that I never…” you need to stop talking to make way for the tears that won’t stop falling.

“I never felt that way about him when you were here. And I need you to know that. This is new and unexpected for both of us. I’ll always love you, Sammy, and I miss you. So fucking much every goddamn day! It’s just that I love him too. And I hope you can forgive me.”

You sit in silence for a while, just being. You know you should leave soon. Dean and John are waiting and you know they’ll be starting to worry about you. Movement catches your eye and you turn your head to see a butterfly fluttering nearby.

It lands on Sam’s gravestone and you smile, feeling a childlike joy at seeing the red admiral so close and so late in the year, even with the mild fall.

It remains perched and unmoving for a while longer before it flies over and lands on your knee. That’s when you know that this beautiful creature is a sign, and that Sam is with you.

You can feel him next to you, and you have the overwhelming feeling that everything is going to be alright and that he approves of you and Dean. The red admiral takes flight once again and circles your body.

You don’t know if it’s a laugh that erupts or if it’s a sob–maybe it’s a mixture of both–but it’s something, and you feel at peace with yourself and everything around you as you sit by his grave.

All too quickly, the butterfly takes off and flutters back into the nearby shrubs.

“I love you, Sam. Always and forever,” you say as you kiss your fingers and place them on his headstone before standing up and brushing the dirt from your jeans.“I’ll be back soon. I promise not to leave it so long next time.” 

Walking away, you feel lighter than you have in a long time, and you know that finally, you’re at peace with your husband's death and with the path that has led you to looking forward to a life with Dean.

“Hey, sweetheart, you good?” Dean asks as you wrap your arms around his waist and hug him tight. You can’t bring yourself to speak, so you nod against his chest and once more you let the tears fall, knowing that this time, they’re happy tears.

“You’re alright, Y/N, I’m right here.” Dean murmurs, and you feel another hand stroking your back.

“Sam would be happy, you know that, don’t you darlin’?” John asks. “For both of you.”

Pulling away from Dean’s embrace, you wipe your tears away and smile, “I know he is.”

You saw a red admiral at every big life moment after that day at his grave. You saw one the day Dean proposed, and again at your small, intimate wedding. One flew in the kitchen window on the day you found out you were expecting your first child, and one appeared on the day you found out about the two that came next! On every birthday and holiday, on the day you gave birth to each of your children, and on their first days at school.

It gave you immense comfort, and though at first Dean, John, and Jody put it down to coincidence, after the first few times it happened, they started looking for the butterfly on the special days too.

THE END

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive @iprobablyshipit91

#the widow #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #angst #fluff #tw: grief #tw: grieving

[h-c-u]

Eye of the storm pt 3

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

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

W/C: 9.1k

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

TWs: Grief, unnamed ED, Panic attacks.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#my writing #TW: ED #TW: Panic Attack #TW: grieving #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #beau simpson x reader #Cyclone x reader #Beau Simpson fanfiction #Beau Cyclone Simpson fanfiction #Beau Cyclone Simpson x reader #Cyclone fanfiction #🖤 #📏

[throwaway-yandere]

I want to be honest (no this has nothing to do with fics lmao youll get it as scheduled)

This post is an explanation as to why I consider myself as "retired". I know I've said it's because of studies, but that'll be 1/3 of the truth. I want to talk about the true three real reasons why, and I'll do my best to be straight to the point. This isn't a cry for help (I swear to the heavens it is NOT). This is just to clear out assumptions.

Here's the other two reasons:

Grief & Mental Health

Writing itself & interactions

Grief & Mental Health:

I'll pour my heart out, so I'm sorry if it's long. As I said, I'll be straight to the point, so: my grandfather around the first week of June. I remember how I received the news so vividly. I was listening to Two Birds while washing the dishes at 12 AM. My mom went down the stairs with my father, crying as they tell me the news that he's gone. We drove half an hour to the hospital where I get to pat his head one last time. I remember mindlessly wandering the hospital halls— I remember mindlessly using the free alcohol attached to a wall. I remember breaking down as I realized I just cleansed away the hand that last had contact with him. I remember every detail, from the ride home where I messaged my good college friend to tell her that she needs to be a good nurse because the public healthcare system in the country is awful. I remember silently hating everyone and everything. I remember thinking about how cruel it was that life took away the one relative who genuinely cared about me and I was sure was related to me by blood. I remember thinking how much I'm distant to everyone else on my mother's side except him. I remember feeling so empty. I remember not sleeping for two days straight.

But let's back track for a bit. Before his death, I did have one final conversation with him. He was sedated and tubed miserably. Deep down, I knew his time was coming. So, I just made jokes about how grandma was growing senile and mistook me for a nurse for ten whole minutes. Then, I thanked him for everything he's done, and told him I'll become an engineer. Just like him.

And now here I am, dorming 3 hours away from home. I dormed because I had nearly decided my life meant nothing after lack of sleep through daily commutes and workloads. But I am lonely and unwell. I don't know what I want in life. I don't know what I actually want to be, but I already shifted courses as a chemical engineering student. I was so stressed to the point I've accidentally cried to my chem professor in a phone call. I don't know what I'm doing with my scholarship and education if it's for no one. And I am scared that I'm draining my parents' already limited resource for nothing. That I'm wasting the scholarship my country had given me nothing. That I am wasting my people's taxes for nothing.

It was only when another friend told me that I seem to live my life based on other's decisions and opinions did I notice just why I'm incredibly miserable.

I know I don't have dreams for myself. And even if I did, how the hell will writing and drawing feed me in the future when the industry in this 3rd world country is absolute garbage?

I guess Asians really do the things they hate so they can get what they love. Okay, I'll stop making jokes.

I miss my long-time friends, Phitre and Frost. I also miss my old blockmates when I was a BSEd-Math student. I am too used to eating alone, studying alone, walking alone. I am too used to being an outsider. But I'm not used to silence. I'm not too used to hearing actual silence.

All I have is Discord and Messenger.

And even then, it's quiet.

Writing itself & Interactions

I love writing and drawing. I just hate posting it at this point, which is why I made another account that's purely interaction-based.

I love writing a lot— my happiness is turning shtposts into something terrifying. I don't like writing romances, I like the thrill instead. I like laughing like I'm Hubert from FE:TH after thinking of an evil plot twist.

But I hate posting it. Because I know, no matter how much effort I put it, it's not enough. No matter how long it is— no matter if you learned basic coding for it— drew art— made interactive google forms— it's just not enough. I literally made two long separate fics with different endings depending on your choices and it just performs less on something I didn't actually put anything on.

Lord.

Lord I hate Creative Differences for that. I finally understood why bands hate their hit songs because of that lol.

Don't comment something like "oh, you content creators are just whining—" I am whining. Why? Because we don't treat artists and writers like they're human enough. Like we're just uploading content and that we don't want to hear what the others have to say. I remember there was one ask telling me how they're gonna miss traumatizing their friend— and I'm just sitting there wondering "why didn't YOU tell me their reactions? Why are you making me feel like I'm talking to a brick wall for 2k words and more?" It's not their fault. I am not mad at this anon. They've done nothing wrong, but lord do I hate feeling like this.

I could follow "part 2???" requests, finish all my drafts for the events. But I know. I know the chances of the person who requested them won't actually answer after all the effort.

[insert Berkut's "all that effort, what is it all for?!" voice line from FE:Echoes here to lighten the mood]

But that aside.

It's just silence. Just notes, when I feel like comments are what matters more. I'm used to being alone, but I really hate silence. I hate it so much. That's why I'm always so grateful to the people who do interact often, and don't say that's not true because I can prove it. You can see me make content just for them, dedicate fics, art, everything. I love them, I love the "noise".

I know we all have lives, I know we're all busy, I know. I respect your time, I respect you.

And I think it's just time I respect myself as well.

So that's why I'm retired. No pressure on events (idol and letters), no pressure on anything. I'm actually taking my time in End Of Year Blues. It's nice.

Edit: I forgot to mention

My father hates that I write. He constantly tells me to stop it, to prioritize my academics, when writing is my only way of coping.

So.

Haha, what the hell do I even do anymore, right?

#tw: suicidal thoughts #tw: grieving #astrilde-talks #tw: mental health

[yandereshingeki]

Eren J masterlist

Word count: 363

Content warnings: Grief, Maternal Death, angst

got this idea on father’s day but wrote it last night after reading a few too many sad quotes

It’d been a year since it happened.

A year since mother nature decided to be so indescribably cruel.

A year since his heart was torn out of his chest and shown to him; as a wailing bundle with a mop of black on her head.

She wailed; oh, she wailed so loudly, crying out for her mother. For a semblance of something akin to one. And it came in the form of sleeves from a tattered old band tee that cradled her with the most delicate hold, like she was coated with fragile stickers on every surface.

He’d stolen her tears from her, holding her close so that she didn’t have to cry, even when he did, wailing out for the same thing she had.

You didn’t come home that night. Or the day after.

He buried you out by the sea. Behind the hillside beach house you’d always dreamed of together. Where his family now came to visit, to help him care for his newborn as the single parent he’d never hoped to be.

He liked to sit on the porch with her when things got hard, in the rocking swing you used to love. He’d listen to the waves crash below like a symphony of memories of all the times he’d listened with you. The times spent hand-in-hand that he took for granted so easily.

All he had now was her. His baby, your baby that he loved so dearly in spite of what happened. He could never blame her, the remains of your heart stitched together with his that was still beating. She did nothing wrong, so pure and new yet already with such a heavy burden to bear.

She looked so much like him, but her eyes, they were yours. Every time they peered up at him through that innocent soul, that ocean of grief came back to claim him. She was yours. She was yours. You would never know how glad he was that despite your hopes that your baby would be born with his eyes that held the sea in them, she was born with yours.

As long as he was alive, she would be loved. And as long as he was alive, you would be too.

#ch:erenj #tw: maternal death #tw: angst #tw: death #tw: grieving #tw: grief #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x reader angst

[vs-redemption]

Grief (Hiei x GN!Reader)

Warning: mentions of death of a loved one :(

Hiei had never seen you so despondent after losing someone close to you and it put him on edge for a lot of reasons.

Firstly, it didn't matter how strong he was. He couldn't protect you from this pain.

He hated feeling useless. And more than anything, he hated to see you suffer.

You were his to protect and his to take care of. But this was something that was out of his hands.

Hiei wasn't a stranger to loss. He'd felt the sting of rejection from people he'd considered family, and even the ache of losing a comrade.

As much as he liked to claim he was above being affected by emotional ties, he knew very well how bad it could be and wished he could spare you the agony.

Comfort isn't Hiei's strong suit. He knew that he'd never be able to string together the words to make you feel better without sounding cold or detached.

The best he could do was remain close.

Physical affection was something he tended to avoid as well, but for you he would always be able to make an exception.

He slides under the covers with you and holds you tight against his chest, hoping that his arms provide at least a little solace from what you're feeling.

He lets you cry if you need and surprises even himself by pressing a comforting kiss to your forehead, not even realizing he'd done it until it was over.

Despite usually keeping his distance from others, he vows to stay at your side for as long as you need until you can stand on your own two feet again.

#tw: grief #tw: grieving #Yuyuhakusho x Reader #yyh x reader #Hiei x Reader #Hiei Jaganshi x reader #yyh headcanons #Hiei headcanons #Hiei Jaganshi Headcanons #yyh #yu yu hakusho #yuyu hakusho #yuyuhakusho

[moonrisemoonchild]

I don't think there is anything I can say that hasn't been said by others but I am truly heartbroken at this news. I can't imagine the pain his family, friends, and fellow members must be feeling. I hope his soul has found peace.

To fans, please take the time you need to grieve. Your feelings are valid. You are not alone.

#personal #moonbin #astro #tw: death #tw: death mention #tw: grief #tw: grieving

[kamari2038]

I’m lost, Carl…I just wanted us to live in peace, but…everything I touch just turns to dust. I don’t know what to do anymore…all of my options are bad ones…no matter what I decide, I know there will be blood… I just wanted my people to be free…but instead, all I did was lead them to disaster…I’m trying to find answers, but everything around me keeps falling apart. What should I do, Carl? They’re killing us…I don’t wanna answer violence with violence, but what choice do I have?

I miss you, Carl…I miss you so much…

Screenshots from VGS

Related: Markus' Worst Regrets (also Kara's and Connor's, tw for Connor's especially but also gun violence in all)

#carl manfred #markus manfred #markus rk200 #dbh markus #dbh leo #tw: major character death #tw: grieving

[batwynn]

Grief is a long, unoriginal story. Sometimes you’re sitting there, many months later, and remember that gap where the last thing you should have said is. The hole burning in the back of your mind, wind passing through in whispers of, “I should have said… I should have done…” Sometimes they’re not even dead yet, and the complex mourning process starts when you first realize your grandparents—parents will die. Maybe you panic at age 10, full of love for them, and try to figure out how to handle their inevitable death because you’re autistic and planning your emotions is how you stay in control when everything—everything is out of control. Sometimes you’re 32 and dream about talking to them once more before they die, long after you cut ties with them for pain they inflicted. How do you break down the hurt they caused, when they’re hurting too? Do you scream at their shadow as they pass? Do you hold their hand in their hospital room and try not to think about the fact that it’s just… not the hand they want to hold? And when the time comes, and you’re unwanted, do you say goodbye or just hold it in. Hold your tongue, like you did for worry of stressing a sick friend. You didn’t want to be a bother. They needed time to heal. So that hole is back, whispers slipping through, “I should have said… I should have done.” Who do you tell about being 10, so afraid to lose your grampa and your mom that you promise yourself that you’ll die first. Because that would be better, said the hole. Because you grow older still thinking you’ll never grow older. You’ll be gone—long gone before them. And maybe you’ve been sick the longest, so it just doesn’t make sense that it isn’t you yet. Sometimes they don’t believe in your illnesses, or gender, or skills, or love. Sometimes they believe in you with all their heart, and it still doesn’t keep them safe. I sent a Facebook message that went unanswered because I’m not wanted there. I sent an email that went unanswered because she had died the day before. Sometimes grief is so long you can’t write the story out in full. Sometimes it’s the same story as everyone else. Should have said, should have done. You have to stop before you listen too intently to the murmuring wind.

#tw: grieving #tw: death #Batwynn talks #black list previous tag to avoid any personal posts #tw: sucidal thoughts #just in case

[pink-sparkly-witch]

The Widow - Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Summary: Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: "Family Don't End with Blood," takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her, is what happens when she falls in love again?   

Pairing: Sam Winchester x F!Reader (past) | Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, fluff

Words: 2,416

You can catch up here!

My Masterlist     AO3    Ko-Fi

Dean’s POV

Dean doesn’t feel better for the amount of whiskey he drank last night. He feels worse. Much worse. The guilt hasn’t been washed away like he’d hoped it would be; not just guilt that he’d fucked his brother’s widow, but also that he’d left her alone in his bed afterwards. That was not one of his finer moments, and if he could take it back, he’d have stayed there with her wrapped in his arms all night long.

Last night with Y/N was everything he could’ve imagined and more, but he knows not to hope for anything more than that. She’s far too good for him. Too kind. Too caring. Too beautiful. He doesn’t deserve her. Especially after he tricked her into kissing him and then took her to bed. And the hatred he had for himself just kept on coming. How could he do that?

He really fucked things up. He always does. Another reason he doesn’t deserve her – or rather, she doesn’t deserve him. He can feel tears prick at his eyes again, but sniffs them back as he hears movement from upstairs. Y/N will be down soon, and he’ll be damned if she sees him cry like a baby when he knows she’s hurting way more than he is right now.

As soon as she walks through the door, he looks down, feeling far too cowardly to look at her. “Morning, sweetheart. How’d you sleep?” He asks, trying to make himself look busy.

“Fine. Though it looks like you’ve had a rough night,” Y/N replies, and Dean can hear the tremor in her voice. He swears if he could punch himself in the face he’d knock himself out cold for what he’s done to her.

“Couldn’t sleep. You want coffee?” He glances up at her for the first time, but only because he hears her keys jangling.

“I have to go.” Y/N’s voice is monotone, and he squeezes his eyes shut, knowing that all her pain and anger is because of him.

“Sweetheart, I thought we were gonna talk about this? You promised me, good or bad,” he begs. Yes, she did promise him that, but he’s well aware that he shifted the goalposts on that promise when he took her into his bed.

“And we will,” her voice is trembling and her eyes are watering, and Dean would rather face the hounds of hell than see this much pain on her beautiful face. “But I can’t right now, okay?” She avoids eye contact with him as she turns to walk away.

“Y/N, please! Don’t walk away from me on this! It’s too important. You’re too important.” Dean knows he’s losing her, and desperately tries to stop her from walking out that door, because he fears that if she does, he’ll never see her again.

“And I said I can’t right now, Dean!” Her tears fall thick and fast and her words leave her in a sob. “I need some time with all of this, okay? It’s too much. And I’m meeting Jody soon. I’ll call you later, so why don’t you get some sleep now that I’m not in your bed,” she finishes with pure venom in her voice and wipes the tears from her eyes as she turns to walk out the door.

“Y/N! It’s not like that, I swear! You’ve got it all wrong!” Dean shouts, but is met with nothing but the sound of his door slamming.

Running after her and trying to get to her before she drives off, he swings the door open and sprints down the front steps, but he isn’t quick enough. Y/N is already in the car and is driving down the street.

“Son of a bitch!” Dean yells, not caring for his neighbours or the early hour, and goes back inside and slams the door shut. Picking up his cell phone, he calls the only person he trusts with something this big.

“Dad? I messed up with Y/N and I don’t know if I can fix it.”

“You gonna tell me what happened, son, or are you just gonna sit there and hope it goes away?” John asks, but Dean keeps his eyes fixed on the floor.

With a loud sigh, John sits next to him and also remains silent. Dean had always had a deep, sensitive side – just like his mother, John always told him – and Dean knew his father would sit right there next to him until he was ready to talk about it.

“I slept with Y/N,” Dean eventually murmurs, glancing up only when John lets out a low whistle.

“Didn’t she have a date last night?” he frowns, and Dean can see the cogs turning behind his concerned gaze.

“Yeah. It was the perfect date with the perfect guy,” Dean sighs, and drags his hand over his face.

“I’m not following here,” John chuckles. “If it was the perfect date with the perfect guy, why did she end up in your bed?”

“She came to me upset after the date because Jacob,” Dean scoffs his name, “apparently, was the perfect gentleman and took her on the perfect date and kissed her goodnight. But Y/N didn’t feel anything. She said she felt numb and then got even more upset asking me if Sammy was the only person she was supposed to be with, and if she was broken for not feeling anything with date dude.

“I tried to convince her she was wrong, that he just wasn’t the guy for her, but she was too far inside her head, you know how she gets. She was gonna go home, but I didn’t think she should be alone. I kissed her as a kinda experiment to see if she felt anything with me. I was expecting disgust, honestly, but she started to kiss back and it just…” Dean doesn’t finish his thought. Doesn’t need to, so he lets it hang in the air.

“And it led to you two having sex,” John nods in understanding of his son’s panicked babbling. “What makes you think you’ve fucked things up with her?”

“After, when she was asleep, the guilt I felt that I’d slept with Sammy’s wife and that I took advantage of her… it was killing me and I went downstairs and drank. And I cried,” Dean’s voice was cracking as he tried to keep his emotions in check. “And I begged him to forgive me for falling in love with his girl, and I prayed that she wouldn’t hate me in the morning.”

“You left her alone after sleeping with her? Dean, tell me you went back to bed?” John asks and curses loudly. “How could you do that? Do you know what she must’ve been feeling?”

“Dad–”

“No, you will listen to me!” John barks, and Dean is quick to shut his mouth and slump down in the chair. “You are the first person she’s been with since her husband and you left her alone? You say you felt guilty about it, how do you think she felt, Dean? Do you think she doesn’t feel guilty? Doesn’t feel like she has betrayed her husband by sleeping with his brother? Do you think maybe she woke up in the morning, alone, in a cold, empty bed and thought ‘oh, I’m just another notch on Dean’s bedpost,’ on top of the guilt and the betrayal and the shame, huh? Did you even stop to think about that?”

“I didn’t,” Dean admits sadly. “I got so caught up in thinking about Sammy and that I’d taken advantage of her that I never stopped to consider how she was feeling.”

“Y/N is not one to be taken advantage of, son. If she slept with you, it’s because she wanted to,” John states firmly before the two men share a moment of silence. Dean, at least, is thankful for a break in the interrogation and hopes a break in tension happens soon too.

“Listen, Dean,” John speaks, much calmer than he’d been before. “She’d chop off your balls if you tried something she didn’t want!” he smirks and, with a sad smile Dean nods in agreement with him.

“If you want my opinion, Dean, you need to sit down with her and talk about this and what comes next. And you need to accept how she feels and what she says.” John claps Dean’s shoulder and stands, making his way to the fridge and pulling out two bottles of beer.

“Nah,” Dean shakes his head, refusing the beer. “I think I’ll go to the garage for a few hours. Seems like a good time to bash the frame of that Mustang back into shape. Give me time to think a bit before I call her.”

“Don’t leave it too long, Dean. She needs to know she wasn’t a mistake,” John’s voice is firm and leaves no room for argument.

“Yes, sir,” Dean replies as he stands and puts his jacket on.

“And Dean? If you need it, you have my blessing to be with her. And I’m sure you have Sammy’s too. If you’re in love and will be happy together, then I support you. Sam would want her to be happy and to be with a good man. You’re a good man, Dean, but you need to fix this. I’m not losing both of them,” John warns and Dean nods.

“You won’t,” he promises. “I’ll fix it.”

Working out all the dents and scratches, and doing the welding work on the body of the beat up old Mustang was somewhat therapeutic to Dean, and he felt like he’d managed to work out most of his frustrations at himself within a few hours. Y/N had mentioned that morning that she was meeting Jody and he didn’t think she’d lie to him about something like that, so he’d give her a little more time before he went over.

The thought that if he called her, she wouldn’t pick up has been at the forefront of his mind, so he decided showing up at her house, knowing she’ll let him in even if it was reluctantly, is the better option. She’s too polite to turn him away, and he knows she wouldn’t make a scene at her doorstep with her nosy neighbours always watching from their windows.

As Dean cleans up the shop and puts away the tools he’s been using, his phone starts to ring. With a heavy dread settling in his stomach, he sees that it’s Jody calling, and he knows she’s going to tear him a new one.

“Hey, Jody,” he answers the call, trying to hide his nerves.

“How are you, Dean?” she asks, concern lacing her voice, and it takes him off guard.

“I’ve been better,” he chuckles sadly.

“I bet,” Jody responds.

“How’s Y/N?” Dean asks before holding his breath for the answer.

“I’d say about as good as you,” Jody laughs softly. “Look, Dean, I’m not calling to burst your balls, but I do need to know one thing.”

“Anything,” Dean agrees quickly.

“Do you regret what happened last night?” Jody asks and Dean’s heart shatters.

“What? No! Of course not,” he insists sincerely.

“She thinks you do, Dean.”

“Shit! She does? Is that why she couldn’t get away from me quick enough this morning?” Dean feels a small bloom of hope in his chest that this won’t end as badly as he thinks it will.

“Alright, I don’t have a lot of time here, Y/N’s in the restroom and will be back any minute, so I’m just gonna say this. You slept with her then left her alone in bed all night while you were drowning your sorrows in a bottle of whiskey. She wakes up to an empty bed, feeling guilty for betraying her husband, and when she comes downstairs she finds an empty liquor bottle and the first man she’s fucked since her husband avoiding eye contact with her. How would you interpret that, Dean?”

“Fuck!” Dean yells, feeling even worse than he did this morning if that was possible.

“You need to talk this out with her,” Jody advises sternly.

“You’re right, I do. And I’m planning on going to the house later. I wanted to make sure she was home from seeing you first,” Dean replies. “Can you do me a favour and text me when she’s on her way?”

“I’ll convince her to order dessert at The Bunker. It shouldn’t be hard, her favourite is on the specials,” Jody says, and Dean can hear the smile in her voice. “I can stall her for about an hour if you want to come by and drive her home.”

“Yes, ma’am, I’ll be waiting outside. Thanks, Jody,” Dean smiles.

“No problem, kiddo. Good luck!”

And with that, Jody ends the call. Smiling for the first time all day, Dean quickly finishes tidying up before hurrying home to shower and change into clean clothes before going to see Y/N. The last thing he needs is to be having a serious conversation and pouring his heart out while covered in grease and sweat.

Dean gets to The Bunker with time to spare, but he wouldn’t have had it any other way. He wants to be waiting for her. He wants her to know that she’s important to him and that he wants to fix things between them.

He parks Baby outside the restaurant and gets out of the car, leaning against her hood and waiting patiently for Y/N. When he sees her walking towards him, his heart skips a beat, and he can’t remember a time when he’d felt more nervous, and it reaffirms just how much she’s come to mean to him these past few months.

Dean watches as she laughs with Jody, but his heart sinks when he sees her stop suddenly, her smile fading as their eyes meet. He keeps his eyes on her and sees Jody lean in and say something to her.

After the brief conversation, the women hug and part ways, and Jody sends a wink and a thumbs up his way. Y/N lowers her gaze and slowly walks towards him. When he opens the passenger door for her, she finally glances up.

“Hey,” she says as she gets in the car.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles, but he isn’t confident it reaches his eyes, because he’s so damn nervous about what comes next.

Next Chapter>>

@deans-spinster-witch @muchamusedaboutnothing @kazsrm67 @twinkleinadiamondsky @waters-2567 @leigh70 @waynes-multiverse @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld @chriszgirl92 @stoneyggirl2 @marilynnlew @ilovedean-spn2 @deans-baby-momma @acitygrownwillow @xxsovereignsarayaxx @frozenhuntress67 @lacilou @rach5ive @iprobablyshipit91

#the widow #dean winchester x reader #au dean winchester x reader #angst #tw: grief #tw: grieving

[h-c-u]

Eye of the storm pt 1

Summary: You can't cope with your grief and Beau is there for you.

Pairing: Beau "Cyclone" Simpson x fem!reader (Iceman's daughter)

W/C: 8k

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

TWs: Grief, unnamed ED, Panic attacks.

A/N: It's going to be long and slow. And there is a lot of feelings. Is it healthy...? Wellll.... What in life truly is healthy...? Also - the next chapter is almost ready, and will be most likely posted on Sunday.

Part 2 | Part 3 Masterlist | List of tags | Eye of the storm playlist

Personal note: I am aware that grief is a very heavy topic for some people, and if you're not in the right mindset, please skip this story. A lot of what I described here is based on my personal experiences, so if you could, please don't comment on the amount of sleeping, crying and panic attacks. From the outside perspective, I know that there are a lot of them, and that it might even sound unrealistic for someone who was able to deal with loss in a more healthy way than I did. Everyone deals with it differently and I wish none of you, my dear readers, will experience what I did. Love,  G.

The last few weeks were rough for you... Mostly because you just couldn't process your dad's death properly, and you were having terrible nightmares every night and panic attacks when you were awake. And yet, you were afraid to go back to therapy; you just... weren't ready yet, because actually going there and talking about it somehow made it more... true. And because acknowledging that would break you even more. 

You couldn't spend more than a few minutes at home, because everywhere you looked you were expecting to see him, to hear him... Every time you looked at your phone you were expecting to see a text from him... Every time you looked at your driveway you expected to see him getting out of the car... But none of those things happened, and every time you realized that the won't happen ever again, it was crushing you over and over. 

You cling to his clothes, desperately seeking the remains of his scent... You re-read his journals every day, hoping that somehow the last unfinished sentence magically fills in with his neat handwriting the next time you get to that page... You were obsessively listening to the recording of My Funny Valentine he made for your mother a few years ago when he still had his voice... 

You knew that none of those things was healthy. And yet, you just couldn't let them go, making yourself re-live the pain of realizing that he's truly gone multiple times every day... 

To say that you were close with your dad would be a severe understatement. You told him everything, and he told you even more than he was sharing with your mother. You were almost inseparable, especially during the last couple of years. You learned sign language with him and you were with him in every unofficial meeting, translating, because it was much faster than writing on a computer. You were with him at every doctor’s appointment and every round of chemo, talked him through every panic attack and moment of self-doubt, when your mother just couldn't handle it anymore. 

And you missed him with every breath you took and with every heartbeat...

But ever since the funeral... you just couldn't handle it. And you had no one to help you, so you hid in the place where you could weirdly still feel his presence... 

You never got into military; you knew you weren't built for that life. You craved personal freedom too much and the strict routine would kill you. And yet you found yourself seeking the comfort of that, even if only by existing in the same space as it was happening. 

To be honest, you assumed that getting on base would be much harder, considering that you weren't even in the academy, but almost everyone you came in contact with got sudden amnesia and selective blindness when they saw you entering the base or walking the corridors... You usually just sat on the floor somewhere, tucked in the corner of the hangar, or in the furthest part of a cafeteria, being completely quiet and re-reading one of your dad's journals. It was the only place where you didn't feel like dying...

You were extremely careful not to accidentally stumble upon something you weren't supposed to see or hear, that's why it took you so long to get into your fathers office; because you assumed it was reassigned and you didn't want to be confronted by the new occupant... 

But you finally gathered the courage to open the familiar door and enter even more familiar room. You've spent a lot of hours here... Sure, all the personal belongings were packed and sent to your mother's house, but you could still see the marks he made there... 

The worn place on the edge of his desk, where he rubbed his thumb over and over, when someone was saying something extremely stupid during meetings. Blinds were still in the 2/3s of the window, just as he liked. The place in the carpet where he liked to keep his right foot perpendicularly to the floor, resting it on his toe was still visible. And many, many little things that gave unimaginable comfort when you saw them again. He was still here... Maybe not alive, but he was still here, and that took that heavy weight from your chest and shoulders, even if just for a moment. 

You couldn't force yourself to sit in his chair, it felt almost sacrilegious... Instead, you opted on curling up on the couch you helped choose, just for few minutes... To catch a breath from the constant grieving, even if for a moment... You didn't even notice when you fell asleep, and for the first time in weeks, there were no nightmares haunting your dreams... 

- Cyclone...? - he heard a familiar voice, and he instantly turned around. - Are you ok, buddy? - Warlock looked a little bit concerned but got curious when his friend put his finger on his lips, shushing him, and closing the door to his office a bit more. 

- I'm fine... - he lied smoothly, trying to position himself in front of his door in such a way, that his friend wouldn't see inside, but he failed. 

- What the...!? - to say that Solomon was surprised and confused would be an understatement, when he caught sight of the young women sleeping on the couch in his friend's office. 

- Shush. - Cyclone pulled his friend by the elbow further into the corridor, so their conversation wouldn't be so loud. 

- Why the hell she's in your office, and more importantly, why the hell were you watching her sleep? - Warlock crossed his arms on his chest evidently judging, and Beau's shoulders slumped as he looked at the floor. 

- Because she thinks this office is still unoccupied... And it's the only place where she doesn't have nightmares when she sleeps... - he bluntly avoided answering the second question, because if he did, he would actually have to admit few things out loud, and he definitely didn't want to do that in front of his friend. 

- And you know that because...? - Solomon dug deeper and Cyclone sighed heavily. 

- Because I overheard her conversation with her mother after I caught her for the first time...

- Jesus Christ, Beau...

- I know, believe me. - he was evidentially ashamed of what he did, and Sol didn't even know the half of it. 

- How often is she here? - Warlock sighed again and let his arms fall to his sides. 

- Every day... - even though Beau was much higher than his friend, right now he felt much, much shorter. 

- Every...!? Cyclone, what the actual fuck!? - vice-admiral wanted nothing more than for the ground beneath him to open and swallow him whole. - Wait... If she's in your office every day... Where have you been working from? - the judgement disappeared for a moment, replaced by curiosity. 

- From a conference room on the 3rd floor... - compared to the previous things, this one was easy to admit, and now Solomon just laughed quietly... 

- Shit, you're in deep, aren't you... Working from that shoebox just so she can catch some sleep... For how long exactly? - usually very sure in himself and confident Beau Simpson was currently folding onto himself in front of his best friend. 

- Almost two months... - he mumbled under his breath, readying for the next wave of laughter. 

- Have you even talked to her? - Cyclone didn't have to reply for Solomon to know the answer. - Why? 

- She's very obviously grieving. And she's Iceman's very young daughter and he would... - he couldn't even finish that sentence. 

- He would what... kill you? A bit late for that, isn't it...? - if looks could kill, Solomon would be dead then and there. - And I didn't mean it like that... Everyone treats her either as a ghost or like an egg which could break any second. Just treat her as a human being, not as a daughter of a dead father. Talk to her. And don't creepily watch her sleep ever again, because you won’t have to wait for Kazansky to kill you, I'll do it for him, I'm serious. - his expression told Beau that indeed, he wasn't joking. 

Cyclone sighed heavily and straightened himself, trying to put on his usual expression of confidence and nonchalance, which came surprisingly easy. 

- Could you...? - he asked before they went their separate ways. 

- Yeah, yeah... Your creepy little secret is safe with me... - he just shook his head when his friend's face showed nothing but relief for a short moment. - But seriously, she's a human being first, just remember that. - Cyclone only nodded, straightened himself and readjusted the flies and laptop he was holding in his hands. - Atta boy. - older man couldn't help but laugh and patted his friend on the shoulder. 

But when Beau was passing his door, he couldn't help but take one last look at the sleeping girl in his office... She looked so innocent and peaceful, curled up in a tiny ball on only one couch cushion, desperately trying to occupy as little space as possible. Her breathing was steady, and he could see her chest slowly raising and coming down, even from that far. He didn't have time to study the light freckles on her cheeks that were glistening like gold in the rays of morning sunshine. He took this sight one last time and gently closed the door, leaving her completely alone, which was much more true than he realized at the moment. 

Next time he saw you was on the balcony of the hangar. He was looking for a quiet space to eat, because he hated eating in the canteen with a passion. Someone was always either staring at him, or trying to talk to him, and he wasn't sure which was worse. He also didn't want to eat in his office, because he honestly thought, you were still there and he didn't want to disturb you. So, he was a bit surprised when he saw you in one of the biggest hangars, where the lights were off and the only sound that could be heard was planes landing and taking off on the tarmac. 

He didn't say anything, just sat about a meter away from you, took a smoothie from his lunch bag and placed it right next to you, wordlessly giving it to you, and started to eat his sandwich in silence. He didn't ask any questions, didn't make any remarks, just... kept you company, while you couldn't stop staring at the glass bottle, he presented you with. You eventually placed your dad's notebook on the ground and cautiously took the glass bottle into one hand. Even though the intention was obvious, you still weren't entirely sure if it wasn't happening in your imagination. 

- Peanuts...? - you asked quietly, without even looking at him. Your voice hoarse and rough from all the crying and screaming. You honestly weren't sure exactly when was the last time you spoke to anyone. Even your mother wasn't calling you that often, tired of your constant grief; you didn't blame her though. Cyclone only shook his head for no, which you caught with a corner of your eye. 

- Cashews, apples, kiwis, coconut milk and fresh, young nettle. - he said after he swallowed the bite of his sandwich. You still held the glass bottle as if it was about to explode any moment, but eventually you opened it and took a sniff before you put it to your lips and took a sip. It was... good. Tasty. 

- Thank you... - you whispered and started slowly sipping on the smoothie while he continued eating his breakfast. He only nodded once in response, letting you know that there’s nothing to thank for. 

You of course knew him... For the last couple of years, you were interpreting your dad's words in the meetings with him at least couple of times a week. You didn't know much about his personal life though. But right now, he was the right person in the right place, at the right time. His mere presence brought you weird comfort, taking you back to simpler times. 

He finished the meal first, but he didn't go, just reclined a bit, seeking support in the wall behind. He wasn't rushing you and didn't even give you impression that he was in a hurry, so you continue to take small sips of something that had actual sustenance, instead of tea or a single fruit that you could barely stomach. You knew you should be eating more, because you started to see bones through your skin that you weren't able to see before the funeral. The clothes were secondary, because you were mostly wearing your dad's old t-shirts and jackets, which were already much too big for you, but they brought you comfort, and you held to that small piece of support with all your might. but because of that, you haven't noticed how much weight you actually lost. 

So, you were extremely grateful for that smoothie, because you just didn't have the energy to even think about the food, you just didn't know how to show it or say it, so a simple "thank you" had to suffice, at least for now. 

You weren't sure how much time had passed until you finally finished the drink and closed the bottle, but it was at least half an hour, maybe even closer to an hour. You suspected that he had other things to do, yet he was sitting on the cold, metal floor of a balcony with you, as if you were kids who just met in the kindergarten. And if you had to be completely honest, you didn't mind that. Because he didn't do or say anything that was supposed to make you feel better. You were just two people. Eating breakfast. And for the first time in weeks, you smiled... 

He joined you later that day again; you were still sitting on the same balcony, so you weren't exactly hard to find. This time he brought you a wrap with smoked salmon, avocado, sunflower seeds and Philadelphia cheese. He had sushi... And you sat in complete silence again, not even one word between you this time, because even simple "thank you" seemed too heavy for you.

You didn't know why he was doing that, but deep inside, you were grateful. It was your second meal of the day since forever, and he stayed with you till you ate it whole, which took at least thirty minutes, because the bites you were taking were small and far apart. And yet he didn't say a word, didn't complain, didn't rush you... Just sat there and ate his sushi, and after he finished, he leaned again on the wall behind him. It wasn't easy for you to relax, but you at least didn't find his presence overbearing, which was progress. 

Small, yet somehow significant. But Rome wasn't built in a day.

After you finished eating, he took the wrapping from you to throw away and left you alone again, saying goodbye with a simple smile.

In the afternoon he brought you hot black tea, a caramel cookie and a blanket, which you let him drape over your body while you were holding thermal mug in your hands. He was really careful and made sure not to actually touch you, because in his mind it was a line, he wasn't ready to cross just yet. He again sat with you while you were slowly nibbling on the cookie and sipping tea. You suspected that the mug he brought the tea in was his personal one, because you seriously doubted that navy had yeti mugs just laying around, but you didn't say a word. Commenting on that would require much more energy than you had left in your batteries for today. Maybe tomorrow... 

This time he didn't bring anything for himself, so he was just sitting next to you with his eyes closed. He was breathing slow and steady, and that quiet, rhythmic sound somehow managed to ground you enough that you finally looked at him. The sun was slowly setting over the horizon and shined its rays on both of you... He looked... tired. But at the same time calm and content. You could tell that he wasn't in any hurry to get anywhere, and if he had any worries on his mind, there weren't reaching him this high up. You could see his chest slowly rising with every breath... Unknowingly, you focused on the same things he noticed about you, when he was looking at you sleeping. 

You eventually looked forward again and went back to slowly sipping from a giant mug of tea. You were surprised to learn that it was your favorite - earl grey with bluebottle flowers, with a little bit of honey. You doubted that it was an accident, but you honestly didn't care right now; it didn't matter.

Only after you finished your tea, you realized that he wasn't just sitting there... He fell asleep, and that made you smile for the second time today. You placed an empty mug on his left side, and moved a bit closer to him. The metal floor was getting colder this late in the day, and he was bound to get cold sooner rather than later, so you unfolded the blanket he draped over you, and put it around him as well. If he was tired enough to fall asleep here, he definitely deserved to get some rest. The blanket was big enough that it covered both of you, without forcing you to touch, so you could go back to re-reading your dad's journal in the last rays of sun for the day. 

At first you didn't notice his scent, because the detergent on the blanket was so strong, but it finally got to you, after few minutes of sitting in such close proximity. He smelled faintly of either pine or spruce, and a hint of very good quality soap. At first it distracted you, but it didn't take long for you to stop consciously noticing it. It still surrounded you though... 

You weren't sure what was the exact reason... If it was the heat radiating of the body next to you, his calm and steady breath, the fact that you actually ate today, or maybe the combination of all three, but you eventually joined him and fell asleep, sitting under one blanket with vice-admiral Beau Simpson. 

When he woke up, he didn't know where he was at first. His back and ass were cold, but the front of his body was pleasantly warm. It was dark all around him and he had trouble identifying anything. But finally his train of thoughts caught up with reality, and he realized what, or rather who, was responsible for the additional weight on his thighs. 

He gave his eyes few minutes to adjust to the darkness and he was finally able to see the familiar outline of your head, which made him smile. He still couldn't say what exactly possessed you to lay on him and, but the realization finally got to him, based on the blanket placement. You must have fell in your sleep, without even realizing it, and it made him chuckle a little. He couldn't help but move your hair from your forehead and you took a deeper breath when he did that. He didn't want to wake you up, but at the same time, he knew that it wasn't the best place for you to sleep, mostly because of the temperature, and he didn't want you to get sick. 

But he selfishly didn't move for few more minutes, just taking in your presence. He was watching you from afar for so long, that actually being so close to you seemed... surreal, almost like a dream. Especially in the moonlight that was coming through the giant windows above you. In his eyes, you looked as if you stepped straight out of a fairy-tale to bless him with your company. 

You looked so peaceful and he hated that he had to disturb that, but to his surprise, when he touched your arm and gently shook it, you didn't wake up... You didn't even react in the slightest. 

At first, he wanted to try to call your name, to shake you a bit stronger, but another, admittingly more creepy plan won in his head. 

Very gently he hooked your arm on his neck, turned towards you, and grabbed you under your knees and your back. You weighed almost nothing in his arms, and he could feel your shoulder blades even through the jacket you were wearing. Your head moved forward and rested on his chest, instead of lulling back, following the gravity. He left his mug on the balcony, making a mental note to come back for it later, when you'll be out of his arms. 

He walked slowly and carefully, trying his best not to wake you up. There wasn't a lot of people in the corridors this late, and those who were, suddenly went quiet and found something else to look at. At first, he wanted to get you to his office, but he selfishly didn't want to leave you there alone, and sleeping on the rough carpet didn't sound that appealing... Instead, he took you to the quarters that were assigned to him. It was a small room, with almost no decoration. There was a bunk bed built into the wall, even though he was the only one assigned to this room, a small desk, a wardrobe, armchair in the corner. 

He didn't spend a lot of time here, preferring his house off the base, but this room was still available to him if needed. And today definitely qualified under "if needed". He didn't even turn the lights on because he knew how harsh they were, and he was afraid that you would wake up. 

He gently placed you on the lower bed.

He was torn about what to do next, but he eventually unlaced your shoes, took them off, and placed them under the bed. Not creepy at all. At last, he slowly moved the duvet from under you and covered you with it, even though you were still wrapped in a blanket. But when he was covering your shoulders, you desperately grabbed his wrist in your sleep and pulled it closer to your chest. He tried to gently pry your fingers away, so he could climb into the top bed and fall asleep, but you didn't want to let go.

He honestly considered climbing in the bed with you for a moment, but Solomon's voice slapped him over the head and instead he sighed heavily. Without moving too much, he grabbed a cushion from the armchair and placed it on the floor next to the bed. he also grabbed a pillow from the top bunk and did his best to find the most comfortable position while sitting on the floor. He eventually unbuttoned and loosened his collar. In the ideal world, he would be able to take his shirt of completely without waking you up, leaving only his t-shirt... That was a lie... In the ideal world, he wouldn't have to worry so much about you because you wouldn't be grieving... He also took his shoes off and put a pillow on the shoulder that you were currently trying to pull closer, and rested his head on it, trying to find the best angle, so the edge of the bed wouldn't be stabbing his ribs.

He looked at you one last time before closing his eyes and focused on your breathing for a moment.

It was calm and steady, which told him that even though you were clutching his arms like a lifebuoy, you didn't have a nightmare; at least that's what he was hoping for...

You woke up in an unfamiliar place, yet somehow you felt calmer than you felt in weeks. At first you didn't even want to open your eyes, in fear that if you did, that bubble of serenity would disappear in a blink of an eye. So, you laid there without even moving a finger, allowing yourself absorb every second of that bliss. 

Only after good five minutes you realized that you were holding someone's hand and your eyes shot open in a slight panic, which only grew when you realized your current position. 

Vice-admiral Beau Simpson was sitting on the floor, draped over the edge of the bed in which you were currently laying. Your heartrate immediately jumped, and your brain slowly started to fill in the blanks with the most rational possibility. You fell asleep. He took you to this room so you could sleep in the bed. But you didn't let him go... 

So, he slept next to you. On the floor. In a very uncomfortable position. 

It must have been very early, because the sun wasn't fully over the horizon yet, painting the sky with a muted orange color, that filled the room almost completely. 

You took a closer look at his sleeping face for the second time during last twenty-four hours; the calmness of if somehow rubbed off on you, and you weren't panicking anymore... You couldn't place exactly why you were reacting that way to his presence, but you did... And now it was your turn to do something creepy and stupid... 

Without letting him go, you gently cupped his cheek with your free hand and his eyes immediately shot open, but he calmed down when he saw you. You didn't say anything... Instead, you pulled him towards you, and moved closer to the wall, making space for him under heavy duvet in the very narrow bed, and he followed... Like a puppy on a leash... He climbed into bed with you, ignoring all the sirens in his head.

You let go of his hand and he pulled the covers over both of you, and just as he was beginning to feel unsure about what to do with his limbs, you took his arm again and guided it around your body, letting it rest on the top part of your stomach, and covered it with your own. After that his other hand easily found a place under your pillow and his left ankle rested on top of your right. 

At this moment in time, this was the only thing you needed from life... 

You didn't even realize how quickly your breaths synchronized, lulling both of you back to sleep. 

When you woke up for the second time, the sun was high up, and he was gone... You couldn't help feeling a bit sad. You knew that he had to work, and there were total of... 12 words exchanged between you two. But to your surprise, that sadness had a different taste than the one you felt constantly for the last two months... But you knew that if you started analyzing and dissecting it, you would spiral again. 

When you turned around and looked around the room, you noticed your bag resting on the floor next to the desk, your dad's journal on the desk, and a another glass bottle with a short "no peanuts" scribbled on a post-it note stuck to the side of it. But... you didn't want to get out of bed just yet. Your rational brain was screaming at you that you definitely should, because you were already abusing vice-admiral's hospitality. Not to mention that you used his body... Well, not in the most obvious way, but still... On the other hand, he wasn't exactly yelling at you and protesting. 

So, staying in bed it was... 

But first you took your jacket off and hung it over the ladders edge. You also took of your jeans and socks because it was extremely warm under the duvet. It definitely wasn't navy issued and even only in your underwear and your dad's much too big for you t-shirt, you were hot. But it was pleasant, because for the longest time you were always cold... It was partially to the fact that you weren’t eating enough, and partially because you were... well... depressed. So, you welcomed that warmness with your whole heart, covering even your head, leaving only a small gap for the oxygen to come in. 

It wasn't long before you fell asleep again, surrounded by a very subtle pine or spruce smell. 

Next time you didn't wake up on your own... Vice-Admiral Simpson was kneeling next to the bed and gently moving your hair from your forehead. 

- You need to eat something... - he whispered quietly. He didn't want to wake you up, but when he came back with lunch and saw that you didn't even touch your breakfast, he got a little bit worried. You wanted to shake your head for no, because you already ate so much yesterday, and you were still full from that... Sleep sounded much better than eating. But instead of refusing you ended up following his nods. - Just a quick small meal, and you can go back to sleep, ok...? - he asked, but it wasn't a request. You propped yourself on the wall behind you and took a glass bottle you saw earlier from his hands. 

It took you a good minute to hype yourself up to actually take a sip, but when you saw relief on his face... Well... It helped with every sip that followed the first one. 

He stayed with you until you finished the whole smoothie and gave you a gentle smile when he took the empty bottle from your hands. You moved your pinky just by few millimeters, so you could touch his hand. You weren't entirely sure if you did that consciously or subconsciously, but he didn't pull away for few more seconds, allowing the touch to linger. 

He wanted nothing more than to climb to bed with you again and protect you from both the outside world and what was happening in your mind, and you were so naively allowing him to do so... He couldn't help but feel like he was taking advantage of you, but you were a fully grown woman... Much, much younger than him, but still.

He wanted to tell you how much of a good girl you were for drinking the whole smoothie, and how proud and happy he was that you were finally getting enough sleep, but that would cross so many lines, that he wasn't even sure if he could count that high. 

You were so obviously depressed and grieving, that even an idiot would have noticed, and instead of getting you professional help, he was selfishly keeping you in his room, feeding you food he prepared and occasionally climbing in the bed with you... 

He clenched his jaw and finally pulled away, breaking this small point of contact between your bodies. And everything would have been fine, if you didn't follow his movements, and kneeled on his bed, and cupped his face with your right hand, forcing him to look you in the eyes. He almost immediately looked away, afraid of what you could possible find there, but you followed his gaze and intercepted it again. 

- Thank you... - your voice barely a whisper, because you couldn’t make it any stronger... Not yet... He only nodded in response and moved away from your hand by finally standing up.

- I will leave the lunch on the desk... It's a crab sushi roll, please try to eat it when you'll wake up next time, ok...? - he pleaded and you simply couldn't say no to that, so you nodded - Also, there is grape juice... - "your favorite..." he wanted to add, but he didn't want to explain exactly how he knew that. But your soft smile told him everything he needed to know. - Do you... want a book? - he asked with one hand on the door handle, and you considered your response for a moment, but eventually shook your head for no. You didn't think you had enough in you to process anything new. He gave you one last, soft smile and you were alone again. 

Usually, it would the prime time for a panic attack, but you stayed calm, grounded by the subtle scent vice-admiral left behind. 

You laid back in bed, and closed your eyes, even though it was the middle of the day, and harsh rays of sunshine would make it extremely hard for a regular person to fall asleep. But you had 2 months of catching up to do. And you were going to squeeze everything you possible could from that bubble of calmness, because you honestly didn't know how long it would last.

Next time you woke up, it was still bright outside, and nothing in the room changed, so you assumed that no one visited you while you slept. At first you wanted to go back to sleep immediately, but you remembered that you promised Beau that you would at least try to eat... With a heavy sigh, you got out of bed; but before you got to the food, you opened a window, to let some fresh air in. What you didn't predict was, that the fresh air was cold. So, you took your lunch and grape juice, sat in the armchair, curled your legs under you and pulled a t-shirt over them. 

It took you good five minutes before you actually took a first bite, and even longer to take the second one... But you kept at it, slowly but surely eating the lunch that Beau prepared for you. And you were sure that he made it because you knew canteen menu well enough to know that they didn't have sushi. If you weren't so cut from reality, you would be wondering what all that meant, but at this specific moment you could find the energy only for slowly eating. And with every bite it was easier to take and swallow the next one. It wasn't a big portion, and yet you still weren't able to eat more than half. 

And this time you didn't go straight back to sleep after eating... Instead, you grabbed the journal and continued reading where you left off yesterday. 

That's how vice-admiral Simpson found you... Curled up in his chair, completely hidden in a tent made from your dad's t-shirt, so even your toes weren't visible, with a very old journal in your hands. One look at the desk told him that you did your best to follow his request, and then was that feeling again... The one that demanded that he tell you how proud and happy he was, but he squashed it before it grew any bigger. 

- I brought you some towels, a toothbrush and a change of clothes. You don't have to do anything, they will just be here, in case you'd want them... - he placed the small bundle on the edge of the desk. He also brought with him a thermal mug full of tea. "I'm sorry I can't stay..." he wanted to apologize while holding you closely in his arms and showering you with gentle kisses all over your neck and chest. Instead, he just put a yeti mug on the desk close to you, and was gone before you even managed to thank him. 

For a few more minutes you tried to focus on your father's handwriting, but your eyes kept wondering to the bundle he left for you. You didn't have to, he said it himself... But you were curious enough to stand up from the armchair and take a closer look. Towel was nothing special... Well, at the first glance. Another thing that might have looked like it was military issued but wasn't. The one you were currently holding in your hands was much, much bigger, and softer than the ones issued in the common area. Inside the towel there was a plain white t-shirt, soft grey shorts, plain black underwear and... fluffy dark-green socks. To say that you were surprised would be an understatement. Not only underwear was in your size, but you couldn't help but wonder where he got the socks from. You gently run your fingers through the soft material, and you couldn't help but smile. 

Now you definitely had to take that shower. 

You correctly assumed that the second door indeed led to a very tiny bathroom. You took your clothes off, folded them neatly and stepped into the shower. Both the water pressure and the temperature were perfect, and you spent much more time in the bathroom than you initially planned. It was spruce, not pine... you realized when you saw the shampoo on the small shelf. He was using a natural, spruce scented shampoo... And now you will smell like him... 

You dried yourself with a towel and put on the clothes he gave you. Both shorts and t-shirt were too big for you, but you honestly didn't mind. You did your best to dry your hair, but they were still very damp when you left the bathroom. You hang the towel on the radiator, so it would dry faster, and finally put on the fluffy socks. It was such a small thing, and yet it brought you so much joy. Not only they were extremely soft, but they were also in your favorite color. You settled back in the armchair and looked first at the journal and then at the unfinished roll... You sighed heavily and reached for the latter. 

It took you more time than taking a shower to finish your lunch, but you finally did, after which you got up again to wash your teeth. You noticed that he gave you the same toothbrush as the one that was in the cup on the sink, and since you didn't want them to mix up, you just placed yours on shelf next to the mirror, which you avoided more than a plague. 

All that food and hot temperature started to knock you out and you climbed back to bed, hid under the covers and almost immediately dozed off. 

When Cyclone came back to his temporary quarters, he felt that nagging feeling again... You not only ate everything he left for you, but also found enough energy to take a shower, which he knew must have been huge, ever since you stopped running on that harmful autopilot and had to actually think about what you were doing. He took one look at you and the warmth spilled inside his chest... You were laying in his bed, wearing his clothes, smelling like him... He couldn't help that feeling of possessiveness that crept in and demanded that he marks you in so many more ways, but he squashed it again. Now was not the time... And he was better than his basic instincts. 

So instead, he went to the bathroom and took a quick cold shower. He noticed with a soft smile that you kept your toothbrush separated from his; he should have thought about it earlier and bring you one that didn't look like his, but still... A very small thing, yet it left a mark that you were there. 

You didn't wake up to the quiet hum of the water, or when he took a fresh set of clothes from the wardrobe to wear to bed. And before he climbed up to the top bunk, he took one look at you, only now noticing that you were shivering. He quickly closed the window and put the duvet over you. He wanted to kiss your forehead so badly... but he didn't, settling on tucking your hair behind your ear, so he could see your face better. You looked... a bit more like you today, than you did yesterday. 

He sighed softly and finally climbed in the top bed. 

You knew that something was wrong before you even woke up. Your heart was pounding, your hands and legs were shaking, your cheeks were completely soaked with silent tears, and when you finally woke up, you couldn't catch your breath. You tried to stay as quiet as you could, while attempting to take gasp after gasp of air, but your lungs just weren't cooperating. You knew what it was, you knew how to deal with it in theory. Yet when it came to actually calming down... You were desperate... 

You got out of your bed and as gently as you could, put your cold fingers on Beau's shoulder, which jolted him awake. And when he saw in what state you were in, you didn't even register how he got down; you just felt his arms pulling you to his chest and surrounding you from every angle. His embrace was strong enough to ground you in reality, and his scent only amplified that. You were openly sobbing into his shirt, not really caring about the potential consequences. You didn't register when exactly he sat on the lover bunk, and pulled you with him, letting you curl up in his lap, with his arms still tightly wrapped around you. He pressed his cheek you your forehead and was whispering something you didn't understand in your current state, but his voice alone was enough to pulled you out of that spiral and try to match his breathing, even if that hurt your lungs in the short term. You knew from experience that it was the best option to pull you out of that self-loathing spiral. He realized what you were trying to do and started breathing a bit quicker so it would be easier for you to match that tempo, and only after you did that, he slowed down again... 

Only now you started to process what he was saying to you... How well you were doing, what a good girl you were, how brave you were, how he was proud that you started to calm down... You weren't even sure if he realized what he was saying, because as soon as you went stiff in his arms, he immediately stopped, as if it hit him too. 

The rational part of your brain was screaming at you that it wasn't normal and that you should get out, but everything else was telling you to stay near him at all costs. You weren't sure if you were getting addicted to him or what any of it meant... You just knew you felt safe, and for now... That was more than you could have said about your own home. At this specific moment, you didn't give a shit if he was using you, or if you were using him, because it just felt so good... not to feel numb.

- I'm sorry... - you mumbled against his skin, still clinging to his shirt with one hand, as if you were afraid that if you let go, all of this would disappear, and you would be alone again. 

- Shhhhh... It's ok, it's ok... - he started to gently rub your back and pulled you even closer, which you thought was impossible... - What do you need, babygirl…? - a pet name left his mouth before he even realized that it started forming on his tongue, and when it reached your ears, it was already too late. For both of you... 

- Just... Don't leave... Please... - you finally whispered, and he could swear you would be able to hear his heart break for you... You needed so much more than he felt he was able to give you and it broke him, but heavens and hells be damned, if he didn't at least try. 

- I'm here, I'm not going anywhere... - he whispered against the top of your head. - Just let it all go, I'm here to catch you... - he said and that was enough for you to start sobbing again, but this time not because of the panic attack... 

After two months of suppressing everything you possibly could, you finally felt safe enough to actually let some of those things go. It was stupid and small, but you were slowly accepting one small thing after another... You will never get a message from your dad wishing you a good day. You will never wave him goodbye from your childhood bedroom when he'd be leaving to DC or somewhere else... You will never clean up after his botched breakfast... You will never sneak into his workshop to scare him. Never fight with him about your non-existing parking skills. Never watch him start a fire in the fireplace. Never get a handwritten letter from him on your birthday. Never bicker with him about the correct way to store chopped wood. Never sing another Christmas song with him...

So many small things that clumped together into one giant monstrosity that consumed every aspect of your life, and letting it go in one move was simply impossible. So, you slowly chipped away one thing after another, spent a short moment holding it close to your heart for the last time and finally let it go...

You couldn't stop crying, but a moment came when you run out of tears, so you ended up quietly sobbing into Beau's shirt, clinging to him, as if he was the last thing on Earth.

And he didn't lie... He was there to catch you when you were falling. Every time you started sobbing harder, he gently soothed your back, started whispering sweet nothings straight into your ear, and what was most important, he didn't let you go, not even for a second. 

Both of you were lost in time, holding each other to give and receive comfort you both so desperately needed, just for entirely different reasons. 

It took him a moment to realize that you passed out from exhaustion, because after a while, you started to sob without making any sounds, only shaking against him from time to time... He dried your wet cheeks with his thumb and just looked at you for a long moment. The sun was getting ready to raise up again and started creeping into the room but wasn't reaching the bed just yet. He no longer gave a fuck about what was proper and what was not... Not when you broke in his arms, and he couldn't do anything more than just not let you go... He laid you down and he couldn't believe how peaceful you looked after what just happened. 

Before he joined you, he lowered the blinds and shot a quick message to Solomon, so he'd be able to keep his promise to you. It was dangerously easy for him to slip into bed next to you and find the perfect position to wrap you in his arms and pull you as close to him as humanly possible. In your sleep you grabbed the front of his shirt and tightened your fingers around it, and he didn't mind that in the slightest. He rested his face in your hair and was content with just being surrounded with your scent, which was dangerously close to his own now. He placed a soft kiss on the top of your head and felt your fingers relaxing a bit, but he didn't do that again, afraid of what he could do if he'd start moving that line further and further away. 

He wasn't able to fall asleep for the longest time, because he was afraid that you might wake up in the middle of another breakdown, so he just laid there with his eyes closed, listening to your breathing mixed with familiar sounds of a military base waking up... Somehow this tiny room became its own microcosm in the last 24 hours, and it felt like it was disconnected from anything else, despite being so close to, well... everything. He could hear the laughter of young pilots, running water somewhere far away, people complaining about the breakfast. And yet, all of that felt at least few universes away, when you were in his arms. But finally, this part of the base became quiet with everyone getting to their duties, and only now he was able to doze off... 

Part 2

A/N 2: Please don't feel obligated/pressured to reblog, because I write mostly for myself. But I would really appreciated if you commented :) Love, G.

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

#my writing #TW: ED #TW: Panic Attack #TW: grieving #Top Gun Maverick fanfiction #beau simpson x reader #Cyclone x reader #Beau Simpson fanfiction #Beau Cyclone Simpson fanfiction #Beau Cyclone Simpson x reader #Cyclone fanfiction #🖤 #📏

[knightmareaceblue]

I like your polythreat art, pretty neat trio and nice dynamic you made. Also if you still do these, you ever drawn one involving the poly threats reaction if one or the other dies?

Thank you for the compliments! I love drawing Polythreat, it's such a fun relationship!

So... what would they do if the others died... well, if only one died, the survivors would cling to each other and work together to process their grief, albeit while always missing the lost one. So instead, I'm going to answer how they'd react if the other two died.

Short answer: Not well.

Long answer:

They'd all get angry at first, go on roaring rampages of revenge, but I think Charles would be the one most likely to hold onto this anger. He'd dive headfirst into going after first anyone who'd hurt Henry and Ellie, then anyone who'd done bad in general. Mostly to distract himself from feeling anything, but also, I think, because he'd stop caring about his own life. Indirectly wanting to die, as it were. If he's not held back, he won't be alone for too long.

That's said, I also think he'd be the most likely to recover from the tragedy. Charles has a much stronger support network than Henry and Ellie do, and if they're able to hold Charles back and force him to process his grief, he'd be able to move on and live happily eventually.

Ellie would, too, be angry and go on a rampage of revenge, but she'll burn herself out rather quickly and just... shut down. She'd seal herself off from everyone around her and wallow in her own misery for quite some time. I don't think she'd be quite as dangerously reckless as Charles, but she'd definitely be more likely to make... intentional bad decisions. She'd also use reminders of her boys to keep herself feeling miserable, preventing herself from really recovering.

She doesn't have the same support network as Charles, but people who care about Charles would be sure to check in on her and keep her alive. Bring her food and the like. She'd need a lot of psychiatric care to truly recover, though.

After the obligatory roaring rampage of revenge, I don't think Henry would ever truly enter the depression stage of grieving. They’re a determinator, and very good at getting what they want. Whether having them revived as robots, or going back in time, or selling their soul to an old god and then stealing it back... Henry would not rest until their sun and moon are returned to them. They’d go full supervillain, if that's what's required.

They are the least likely to recover.

#THSC #The Henry Stickmin Collection #Henry Stickmin #Charles Calvin #Ellie Rose #Polythreat #Poly Threat #Knightmare Art #The Knightmare Responds #Anonymous #Angst #Death #tw: death #grieving #tw: grieving #Poor grieving at that #If you'll look closely you'll see the rings designed by thestarsave44 #Gotta give them credit those are great ring designs #Let me know if I need to add more warnings #I am a sucker for romantic partners wearing each other's clothes #It's cute #And in this case really sad

[sunnydayzes]

When she was finally alone in that tiny trailer, it was as though she could no longer hold back the grief. She sobbed violently, the sound echoing around her new bedroom. This was her senior year - it was supposed to be the best year of her life. Instead, she had a funeral to attend in five days; the same day that she was supposed to go to the homecoming dance at school.

She remembered Ms. Barbara's words; Stay in school. It was important. And while she had made a promise to her own mother that she would do whatever it took to graduate, it just seemed like that was a pipe dream at this point. The only way she was going to be able to afford the rent on this tiny trailer was if she got a job - a real one. Not the babysitting gigs that she had picked up in her old neighborhood to bring home a little extra pocket change.

She felt guilty for being angry at her mother, but she was. She felt ill-prepared to survive in the world, and she didn't really have anyone that she could turn to for advice. Her mother hadn't had any family. She had been an only child and Lyla's grandparents had passed away early on in her childhood. As for her father's family; she knew as much about them as she did the man himself, which was absolutely nothing at all.

She didn't know how long she sat there on the edge of that bed crying before she felt her body laying down. She had remembered what Barbara said about the mattress, but she was too tired to really care much about it. In the morning, she would try and find a second hand shop in town to see if she could find a new mattress, and some new clothing. She couldn't return to her mother's home; it was likely she would be taken away into foster care if it was discovered that she was living on her own and that was the last thing she wanted.

It was a little after midnight before she finally succumbed to sleep, and, unbeknownst to her, she was being watched...

END OF CHAPTER ONE

#story: phases #phases: chapter one #ts4 story #sims 4 story #c: lyla frye #portsim #millhaven #tw: death mention #tw: grieving #tw: loss of parent #who is these mystery people watching her trailer? #what is lyla going to do next? #you'll have to find out in the next chapter :3

[dreambones]

I debated a lot to share this or not since I try to keep my private life out of the internet as much as possible, but after much thinking, it feels strange to keep going on with life without acknowledging it.

By the end of January I lost my stepdad to cancer. I never expected for him to be gone so soon, and some days I struggle accepting I won't see him ever again and all I have is the memories of him. He taught me so so so much and I wouldn't be where I am today without him, and it hurts a lot that he won't be here to keep seeing me grow.

This is certainly not how I wanted to start the year, I wish things had gone different. Some days are good and others are bad, and some days it feels it will never stop hurting.

I want to go back to creating so badly, submerge myself into my work and draw lots of silly things and games I can't wait to do. But at the same time I don't have the energy and everything I do feels empty, so I am trying to be kind and patient with myself and know it might take a while till I can create as I used to.

#Dream talking #irl stuff #tw: cancer #tw: death mention #tw: grieving

[vs-redemption]

I'm sorry for the sad themes of my posts lately. It's just that I lost my grandpa 4 days ago and it has been really really hard.

I do want to say thank you to the handful of friends on here that have really supported me through his and have made sure to check on me and give me a shoulder to lean on. I appreciate you guys so much ♥ I'm so lucky to have the community on this blog that I do.

#tw: grieving #tw: grief #tw: death #random cindy

[anartisticdreamer0]

techno’s dad is about to make me absolutely sob. guys i’m really feeling the grief all over again. i wish i could give all the love to his entire family, i hope they know about the sunrises and sunsets.

#technoblade #techno really gets me breaking down #i just wanna give his dad a hug goddamn it #tw: grief #tw: grieving #he meant so much to me and i can’t possibly ever express it enough #vi speaks

[will-noble-owns-my-ass]

I really miss you. I wish you could call me at stupid o’clock in the morning just one more time. I still have your number saved in my phone because.. I have a stupid hope that maybe one day you will

I really miss you. I look outside where you used to live every time I go past to see if your out there with your coffee and your cigarette. Because I have a stupid hope that maybe one day you might be.

I really miss you. I would give anything to come and see you. Just one more time. For one more cup of tea. I love you I love you with all my heart. And though you didn’t say it often. I know. I know you loved me too

💙🤍🕊️

#tw: grieving #tw: personal #bekah’s musings #i’m having a lot of feelings #i’m having a bad day