Taking Advantage

Taking Advantage

Dune: Paul Atreides x female reader

Warnings: fluff / angst / hurt reader / teasing

Words: 1.3k

you came home from battle injured & Paul wants to make sure you are alright

_____________________________

„That was awesome!“ 

The Fremen men and women were cheering in agreement as your group coming back to Sietch Tabr with the sunrise early in the morning. Every step you take, sends little painful impulses through your muscles. The whole night you were fighting against a Spice harvesting ship that belonged to the Harkonnen and although you made a bunch of them pay for their brutal regiment, you came back badly bruised. But you are doing your best to hide the pain your in in front of your friends. It would be even more embarrassing to see their faces covered in pity over you, when the mood is as good as it is right now. The Fremen had another win and kicked some Harkonnen asses. That’s all that counts right now. 

„I’m a little drained. Go on and have a drink for me, while I’ll be having a good rest“, you said to your best friend Chani, who is giving you a suspicious look but then nodded. 

„You did good today, y/n. And I know for a fact, that Muad’Dib is thinking the same“, she wiggled with her eyebrows, mocking you again. Your eyes darted to the back of the tent, where Paul was sitting with Stilgar. He was already looking at you, not breaking the eye contact once yours met his. Paul was frowning a little, wich made his worried expression even more noticeable. Maybe Stilgar was telling him some bad news or something. You didn’t really care, because all you could think about was the pain that was feeling like needles beneath your skin. 

„I don’t care what he thinks. He fought well. And everything else is not important“, you murmured shrugging your hurting shoulders. Big mistake. Your almost flinched because of the pain that was send trough your body again. 

You quickly waved Chani goodbye and make your way outside the big community room, back to your private stone cabin, that was placed further away. When you finally reached it, a sigh of relief escaped your throat. Carefully you sit down on the bed out of soft fabric and you close your eyes for a second to calm your thoughts. Today was hard and nothing sounds more tempting than getting this suit off and washing the dirt off of your irritated skin. But the thought that you have to move yourself to make that happen, was like your personal nightmare. 

The sound of someone clearing his throat hollowed back from the stonewalls of your room. You quickly turn your head around to catch Paul standing in the doorframe, holding the curtain open. He looks even more worried now than back downstairs. 

„Can I come in?“, he asked. 

You let out a annoyed sigh. „Sure. What is it, Paul?“ 

He makes his way up to you, stopping not even two feet away from the bed you were still sitting on. „Are you alright?“ 

„Obviously. Today was a big win.“ 

He frowned again. „That’s not what I meant.“ 

„Then what are you talking about? Speak up.“ Your tone was annoyed, because the last thing you wanted right now was him seeing you in this pathetic state. 

„You fought like a demon out there. I have never seen someone so … so passionately killing the bad guys. But … I saw you falling down that cliff. For a second I thought you were dead“, he swallowed hard. „I saw you getting hurt. You must be in enormous pain right now.“ 

The fact that he had an eye on you while being on the battlefield, surrounded by enemies, made your chest tightened up. He was really looking out for me? 

You tried to sound unimpressed. „Well, thank you for your concern but I’m perfectly fine as you can see.“ You stood up and wanted to make him leave your room, but the sharp pain came back like a lighting bolt and you tripped over your own feet. Paul had quick reflexes and catching you before you could hit the ground. „I’m fine“, your voice cracks and burning shame blushed your cheeks. 

„No you are not fine, y/n. You need help“, Paul whispered. His arms still wrapped around your waist to hold you up. His eyes right in front of you. So blue you could probably drown in them … although there were little brown spots you never noticed before. 

You swallowed. „I don’t need …“ 

„Oh for fucks sake! Shut up and let me help you“, he demanded. You were so surprised about his little outburst, that you could only nod to give him the permission. 

Paul smiled slightly. „Good. You are so stubborn.“ 

You rolled your eyes on him, not saying anything. He was right, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of you agreeing with him. 

With his help, you turned your back to him. He begins to get rid of the many closures of the suit and with every unbuttoning your face feels even warmer. His direct presence was making you nervous and you were not sure how you feel about that effect he has on you. 

„You need to relax. Otherwise I could hurt you even more“, his voice was low and for a second you thought you heard a light crack in it. Is it possible that you have the same effect on him? 

„It is kinda hard to relax in this … situation“, the words slipped out before you could think about the meaning of them. You bite your tongue as he chuckled softly. 

„And why is that?“, you could feel his warm breath on your neck. It sends goosebumps over your drained body. Before you could give him a sassy answer, his fingertips touched the bare skin on your shoulders, gently pulling down the suit. You could feel his hands on your back while Paul was making sure that you didn’t need to move a muscle to get rid of the Fremen desert suit. Underneath you are wearing an thin layer of fabric, cut in the form of a dress that barely covers your butt. 

„Are you taking advantage of an helpless and wounded woman, Paul Atreides?“, you say with a strangled voice. Still facing the wall. But Paul was so close, that you could feel his chest touching your back. 

Paul gently strokes your hair over one shoulder. His lips almost touching your ear, while he speaks with a breathy voice. „I would never take advantage of you. I know for a fact, that you could kick my ass and slit my throat in no time, even wounded and blinded. But you haven’t done such thing.“ 

He places a soft kiss on the sensitive skin right beneath your ear and your breathing stops. Your whole body reacting to him like a firework. Just because of a litte stupid kiss. What is happening? 

„Did I hurt you?“, he asked as he noticed your reaction. „If you want me to stop, you just have to say one word and I’m …“ 

„You didn’t hurt me“, you interrupted. 

Paul chuckles softly. And you almost hoped, that he would keep on doing where he stopped, but instead you feel how his warm body disappeared from your back. As you peak over your shoulder, he looks at you with deep satisfaction. 

„I’ll see if I can get you something to eat and drink. And then I will send you a healer to make sure you’ll get better in no time.“ 

Your mouth snapped open in disbelief. This jerk just teased you like a champion and now he was looking at you like a little boy, who is more than proud to make fun of you. 

„You’re an asshole, Paul Atreides“, you said smiling. 

He raises his hands defensively. „I’m just making sure not to take advantage of you.“ 

::sigh::

Mon Amour

A/N: Outrageously short, but I thought it was sweet 🫶🏻

Fluff!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

'Mon Amour,' he whispered, lips tracing the shell of my ear.

I sighed, feeling myself shudder.

'Say it again,' I pleaded.

The room washed over with a cool breeze.

We were laying on his bed, sheets messy and unmade, limbs entangled in one another's.

His elegant fingers languidly combed through my hair as he placed gentle kisses across my skin.

I felt so close to him, physically, emotionally. This precious moment where we could simply exist together and bask in each others company. It felt so intimate. So loving.

The feeling of his skin against mine brought me to ease, washing away my deepest, darkest thoughts. My heart thrummed quietly in my chest, perfectly in time with his.

As we lay there, an unspoken feeling engulfed us both. One of a lasting love.

I opened my eyes, searching his in the darkness, and found his gaze already locked on me.

'Mon Amour,' he whispered again, capturing my lips in his.

Brownie

"My Little Cocoa Bean" series

Summary: A stray pup finds his fur-ever home with the Wonka family. Ben/Bean is 7, and Charlotte/Charlie is 3.

<><><><><>

If the weekend weather was favorable, the Wonka family could be found in the park. Today was no exception. The four of you were walking down a gravel pathway, Willy walking backward so he could talk to you, Ben, and Charlotte about his latest invention. Ever the animated talker, he was using his hands and jumping around until a shrill yelp startled him as he stepped down near a bush.

"Did that bush just...yelp?" you asked curiously and held the children back from investigating. Willy got down on all fours to peer under the limbs. There, he spied a little brown furball cowering by the trunk.

"Well, hello there, little fella. Did I accidentally step on your tail? I'm sorry," he cooed. Willy reached into the bush and pulled a trembling puppy to his chest. He sat back on his feet so the family could see and was instantly crowded by Ben and Charlotte, who wanted a better look at the tiny animal.

"A puppy!" Charlotte cheered. You chided her to lower her voice so as to not frighten him further.

"Can we keep him?" Ben pleaded as he scratched under the pup's chin.

Willy didn't say anything, but he looked up at you with the same doe eyes and pouty lip as your children. Real helpful, dear, you thought.

"We really ought to make sure he doesn't belong to someone else first. But we can keep him safe in the meantime," you replied. "When we get back to town, we'll put up a notice in the square for a week. If nobody comes for him, then he can stay with us for good."

Willy stood and handed the pup to you, and of course you fell in love immediately, especially when he snuggled up to your chest. While you had to put up a responsible front, you secretly hoped that nobody would claim him. He was adorable, with one flopped ear and patches of white on his chest and feet. He looked like he had been dipped in chocolate - a perfect fit for your family.

You all took turns holding the puppy on your route home, first making a detour by the bulletin board in the downtown square. He scurried under the sofa when you first arrived at the house but quickly warmed up to Ben and Charlotte. He even licked the girl's face when she hung down from the couch to peer underneath. Her giggles eventually drew him out to play. The kids took great delight in watching him explore the house.

"I think we should name him..." Ben started to say. You quickly interrupted.

"No, no names until he's officially ours. Otherwise, you'll get attached." Too late, you thought to yourself. You knelt down to make eye contact with both of your children. "Now, I need you to understand that taking care of an animal is a big responsibility. He's more than just a toy to play with. He will be completely dependent on us for food, water, and clean bedding. The two of you will have to pick up after him, even if he's only with us for a little while."

"Charlie and I can handle it!" Ben piped up.

"Yeah!" Charlotte agreed.

"Great. I'm going to hold you to that. Now, let's see what we can find for him to eat." You stood and walked to the kitchen. You looked through the cabinets and refrigerator before deciding to mash up last night's leftovers and soften it up with some milk. The pup scarfed it down like he hadn't eaten in days. This brought on a new burst of energy, so the children took him outside to run off his zoomies (and theirs).

Willy made lunch while you kept an eye on the trio and joined in on their game of chase. He called you all in once the food was ready. The pup quickly learned that Charlotte was the one most likely to drop crumbs, both intentionally and unintentionally, so he settled beneath her chair. You were amazed when there was nothing to sweep up after the meal was done.

The kids took the puppy to the playroom while you and Willy cleaned up the kitchen and washed the dishes. You heard giggling, talking, and sounds of toys clanking for a little bit, but then everything grew quiet. You looked over at Willy who had picked up on it, too. It wasn't unusual for Ben to be quiet. But Charlotte? Both of you were wary. Willy smirked. "Go check it out. I'll finish up here," he said.

You dried your hands and made your way to the playroom. You put your ear to the door but still heard nothing. You quietly opened it and drew on all your strength not to squeal over the cuteness.

Ben was leaning against the wall asleep, head lolled to the side. Charlotte looked like she passed out on the rug mid-play. The puppy was laying on his belly between the two of them, eyes closed and all four legs stretched out in a sploot. It was a precious sight.

Willy came up behind you, set a hand on your hip and his chin on your head. He took in the scene and quietly chuckled. "They sat still too long," he whispered. The pup's ears twitched at his voice, but sensing no threat, he quickly dozed back off. You gently pulled the door to so they could continue to nap in peace.

Ben awoke before Charlotte about half an hour later and snuck out of the playroom with the puppy. He found you and Willy in the study.

"Hey, Bean. Sleep well?" Willy looked up from his newspaper and teased. Ben narrowed his eyes at his father in jest before turning his focus back to the puppy in his arms. He had declared years earlier that he was too old for naps now.

"Can you take the pup outside so he can stretch and take care of business?" you asked. He nodded and made his way to the back door. With the fenced-in back yard, you were comfortable letting your son learn responsibility and take care of this task on his own.

Then you heard Charlotte cry. Willy was up and out of the room before you could even react. His long legs made quicker work of getting across the house anyway.

Willy opened the playroom door to find Charlotte sitting up on the rug. She looked disoriented, looking around wildly with her tangled hair and tear-streaked face. Willy sat down beside the girl and scooped her up into his lap.

"Shhh, baby girl. I've got you. What's wrong?" he asked while rocking her.

Sobs wracked her tiny body. "The puppy is gone! Someone t-took h-him h-home!"

"Oh, no, Charlie. He's just outside with your brother. He woke up before you."

"Pwomise?"

"I pinky promise. And that's the most solemn vow there is!" He held up his pinky for Charlotte to link with hers, then kissed her on the head. "Come on, I'll take you outside to show you."

Willy reappeared briefly in the study with Charlotte on his hip. She laid her forehead in the crook of his neck and occasionally took shuddered breath as she calmed down. "I'm going to take her outside to see the puppy."

Ah, she must have been upset about the dog. She will be devastated if someone does claim him. But doing what is right isn't always easy, you reminded yourself. Soon, you heard the girl's cheerful laughter ringing throughout the yard. All was right in her world again.

The rest of the evening was uneventful. You started dinner and called your family inside when the food was ready. The dog took up his previous station under Charlotte's chair, but this time you also provided him with his own bowls of food and water on the floor.

"I'll stop by the store on my way home tomorrow for some supplies and food for him," Willy offered. "I'll also ask around if anyone is missing a pup." Ben and Charlotte both pouted. You and Willy exchanged knowing looks.

The family finished up dinner in relative silence and set about their nightly routines to get ready for bed.

"Where will he sleep tonight?" Ben asked as he rubbed the pup's belly.

"We'll set up a box for him in the kitchen with a warm blanket," you replied.

"The kitchen?" Willy asked.

"Well, yes. That way if he makes a mess it's easier to clean up. Why?"

"No, that makes sense. I...I just think he may get a little lonely is all."

"I think some separation will be good so we don't get too attached. Not yet," you replied, mainly for your own benefit.

Willy kissed you on the forehead. "Always the voice of reason. Alright kids, time to brush teeth and go to bed. Bean, you get to pick the story tonight." His voice faded as he herded the children down the hallway.

You dug out a wooden crate out of the storage room and placed a cozy blanket inside. You picked up the pup, gave him a snuggle and a good scratch behind the ears, and laid him in the crate. You gently pet him on the head until his eyes closed, then off you went to bed.

A couple of hours later, you were awakened by pitiful whimpering. You laid in bed for a few moments in hopes that the puppy would settle on his own, but you had no such luck. You grumbled as you sat up. *Just like taking care of a baby again.*

You put on your robe and tiptoed to the kitchen so as to not wake the others. Upon turning on the light, you saw the pup looking up at you, wagging his tail and whining.

"Hey there. What's all this about, hmm?" Gently you picked him up and he licked your face in return. You suspected he was just lonesome, but you went through a mental list of all his other potential needs as well. First was a trip outside in case he needed to potty. He romped around and barked, bowing at you to get you to play.

You tsked at him. "Shh, no, this is not time for play. Go take care of your business." The pup conceded, though he got distracted a few times by sniffing around the yard. You brought him back inside and set him up with a little more soft food and water in the crate. After a few reassuring pets, you stood to exit the kitchen and go back to bed.

He instantly took up whimpering again.

"Now, now, shhh. Let's not wake the family." You sat back down by the crate and encouraged him to lay down, fluffing up the blanket around him. You got back up once you thought he was settled again, just to be rewarded with more whimpering. So you sat down again with a huff.

<about three hours later>

Willy shuffled into the kitchen in his pajamas when he discovered you were no longer in bed. He stifled a laugh when he found you in a similar state to your son earlier in the playroom.

You had fallen asleep sitting up against the kitchen cabinet beside the crate with your head lolled to the side. The puppy was asleep, too...

...in your lap.

"Separation, huh?" he playfully mocked. "She's going to be sore in the morning if she stays like that," he muttered to himself. He knelt down and gently shook your shoulder.

"Hey, my sweet. Wake up."

You blinked and squinted in response to the kitchen light you had left on. You looked around then down in your lap at the sleeping furball. You realized you caved and coddled him out of desperation.

"He finally fell asleep. The poor dear was whimpering pitifully. I gave him food and water, even let him outside, but he would whine anytime I stood to leave. You were right. He got lonely."

"He might just be sad that dogs can't have chocolate," Willy said with a deadpan face and serious tone. You cut your eyes at him and tried to act surly, as this was no time to joke, but you couldn't help but laugh softly. He broke out into a childish grin.

"I've never slept well on the first night in a new place," he continued. "Especially if it was too quiet. There was always background noise on the ship." You could tell an idea struck him when his face lit up. "I'll be right back!"

Willy scurried out of the room and returned just as quickly with a wind-up clock in hand. "I read about this once," he said with hushed excitement as he sat down in front of you and the crate. "You place it near their bed at night to comfort them. The rhythm reminds them of...of their mother's heartbeat." His excitement dimmed as he looked down at the pup, though you knew his thoughts were elsewhere. You leaned forward to squeeze his hand.

"Do you think we should bring his crate to our room?" you asked hesitantly after a few moments.

Willy nodded fervently. "He is just a baby, after all. We kept our other babies close at first."

"Willy. He's not a *human* baby. And he's not ours. Not yet."

"Maybe not. But will it hurt to treat him like family while he's here?" he asked with a pout.

"It may hurt us later if he has to leave."

"True, but we will cross that bridge if it gets here. Make the most of now. Besides, you risk closing yourself off from the world entirely if you avoid attachments to anyone or anything that may leave."

"So wise at two in the morning," you chuckled and shook your head.

"I have my moments." He smiled as he carefully picked the puppy up from your lap and offered his hand to help you up. You picked up the crate and clock and returned to your room. You sank into your bed with a sigh as Willy got the pup settled in the crate on his side. Ever the doting father, you thought happily. Soon, everyone was asleep again.

The days went by and you only received one inquiry about the pup. Sadly for them, the description of their missing dog didn't match, but it was difficult to keep the joy out of your voice. He quickly became embedded in your daily routine, as if he had been part of the family all along. He was Charlotte's shadow by day and Ben's in the evening when he returned home. Once the children went to bed, he would lay his head on your lap as you and Willy cozied up by the fire. You counted down the days until you could claim the pup. It would break your heart to see him go now, especially now that he was letting you sleep through the night again.

<one week after the walk in the park>

You and Willy called the children to the study. "Alright, kids. The puppy is officially ours! Now we can name him," you announced excitedly. Ben and Charlotte jumped up and down while the pup bounced around and barked.

"Anything but Tiddles, please," Willy supplied.

"Well, I think he looks like he's dipped in chocolate, but Fondue just doesn't sound right," you replied. "Maybe Biscuit, like the storybooks?"

"What about Brownie?" Ben asked and looked around at everyone. The puppy barked. "I think he likes it!"

"Bwowneeeeeee!" Charlotte squealed.

"That has a nice ring to it," Willy agreed as he pulled a collar out of his pocket and placed it around the puppy's neck. "Welcome to the family, Brownie!"

<><><><><>

Masterlist

He's just so beautiful

Throwback to Timothée on the set of Wonka 🎬

Posted on warnerbrosuk

hiii could you write timmy x reader based on all too well short film? a little bit of angstttt pls and thank you <3

hiii! thank you for being so patient, turns out i love angstttt thank you for the request i hope this is okay <3

“get back here, asshole!” you laugh, scarf fluttering over your shoulder as you run, run, run, run.

you weave in and out of the bracken as you chase him, leaves crunching, heart racing, head spinning in what feels a lot like love.

his childlike laughter echoes through the trees and you chase it. he glances back to see the wind in your hair, boots skidding, until you all but slam into him, knocking him to the ground, the keychain clattering to the floor.

a flurry of leaves scatter over you in the ruckus. you straddle him, hands on his chest, the pair of you breathless as he rolls over, squirming underneath you, shrieking in laughter.

“give me the keys!” you shout, grabbing his wrists and pinning him to the forest floor.

“never!” timothée yells, futilely wriggling in an attempt to escape.

“you can’t drive for shit!” you laugh, squeezing his sides with your thighs. his laughter peters out as he’s overcome with awe, eyes so soft as they reflect the autumn light, as they look up at you in what feels a lot like love.

“well if you didn’t keep distracting me we wouldn’t have missed the turn,” he giggles, lips dangerously close now.

you run both hands through his hair, giggling as you pluck the leaves from his wild curls. his green eyes are mesmerizing against the russet foliage and you're bracing yourself — so sure — it’s in his eyes. he’s going to say it’s love. how can he not, when it’s on the tip of your tongue, too?

he props himself up and then he's kissing you, hard, and you’re cracked wide open, emotion spilling out of you, autumn leaves falling down like pieces into place.

“don’t ever run,” you whisper against his mouth, hands cupping his flushed cheeks.

“never,” he manages to get out around the grind of your hips, his hands gripping the fabric of your coat to keep you deliciously close.

you bite your lip, hiding a smile behind your scarf, love overflowing. he’s going to say it.

leaning further forwards, your lips trace his jaw, down the column of his throat; every soft noise he makes pulses through you, as if his body is your own.

“shit, right here?” he groans, hooded eyes peering into yours. surrounded by trees, all you can see is hues of red and orange, a striking background for bright green eyes.

“nobody has to know,” you murmur, wandering hands finding the latch of his belt.

timothée looks up at you with reverence, with something that looks a lot like love, and you find yourself shining for him, falling further, lips crashing back into his. surely he feels it too? this invisible pull between you?

“i l—” he stops himself, cheeks burning. there’s something in his expression that you can’t place. desire? no, it’s more than that — longing?

your heart stutters. why won’t he say it? why is he looking at you like that?

but you kiss him anyway, to say it a different way.

autumn leaves fall around you as he threads his hands through your hair, pulling you closer, closer, closer, until he’s everything.

***

he’s silent on the drive home, he says he’s tired from the walk. the radio crackles between you, static, still.

you could say it: i love you. because that’s what it is — it’s the best description for the butterflies in your stomach, or your pattering heart, or the light you saw in his eyes when he looked at you. he has to feel it. he’ll say it back, he’s bound to. it’s unsaid, undeniable. it was love when you danced around the kitchen in the refrigerator light, when you played cards and drank too much wine, when he filled in the crossword just to make you laugh. every touch, every kiss, it’s all love, and as timothée parks back home and opens your door it pours out of you –

“i love you,” you murmur into his shoulder, walking down the stairs and out of the car park.

he stops dead, bites his tongue, nods.

time stands still.

he takes your hand and squeezes it, walking up to his apartment with you in tow, like a figurine, like a marionette.

like a fucking doll.

you drop his hand when he closes his door, shellshocked. he goes to the kitchen to make coffee but you can’t move. did he even hear you? does he not feel the same? how could he possibly fake it?

suddenly you’re face to face with the best actor in the world.

“you want some?” he asks as if he hasn’t just trod all over your heart, reaching for your favourite mug.

how could it get this cold? you tug your scarf tighter, burrowing into it when timothée’s eyes fail to meet yours. for the first time, he’s unreadable and you’re running scared.

“i, uh, i’m okay,” you rasp, frozen in time. frozen down the stairs. replaying the same nod, the same squeeze of your hand, the same exact moment your heart cracked. you look out timothée’s window, expecting to see its shattered remains glittering in the car park, but all you see is your own broken reflection staring back at you. because he didn’t say it back. he’s not even given a reason, not even acknowledged it, aside from that nod, that squeeze of your hand, and, oh god, did he ever come close to loving you? are you nothing to him? was this masterpiece just in your head?

“what’s wrong?” timothée asks. it sends you over the edge.

“how can you not know?” you sob, turning to face him. he aches at the sight of your tears and knows exactly what this is about, knows exactly how to fix it, but he can’t. he can’t say it back because he sees how his life affects you, how anxious it makes you, how he’s not enough and not worth the media circus that never leaves when he’s just a ringmaster with no control.

he can’t trap you in the tent too.

he’s almost crying now and he sniffles in frustration, heels of his hands covering his eyes.

you pull the scarf tighter around you, because you can’t stay here, you can't love a traitor, you’re running scared. striding to his door, your hand closes around its handle when his voice stops you – freezes time, as it always does.

“you think i don’t want to say it back? that i don’t feel it?” timothée cries, voice breaking. he rounds the countertop, moving closer. you step away, back against the door, reeling. he freezes in place, heartbroken.

“can you blame me?” you shout, wiping your tears furiously. “what was that out there, timothée?! god, i’m such an idiot — it’s all in my head, right? you never loved me—”

“i can’t say it when it’d be the most selfish thing i’d do!” he cries, blinking back tears as he steps closer.

“if this is about your job—”

“of course it fucking is!” timothée snaps, “it always is! i can’t drag you into this too!”

you glare at him. “are you kidding? i want to be here! this — this is so fucking rare and you know it and you’re throwing it away because i’m not — what — not strong enough? not worth it?”

timothée closes his eyes and the silence is terrible as your words hang in the air.

“shit, this is so twisted, i can't…” he mutters, running his hands through his hair. he takes a deep breath, says a prayer to the ceiling, and looks at you in agony. “i’m not — i’m the one who can't handle it! i can’t stop what all this shit does—”

“that’s not up to you,” you say, surging forwards and grabbing his forearms. he’s shaking with emotion, jaw clenching and unclenching as he shakes his head, anxiety clawing at his insides.

“i — i can’t stop it, and i can’t watch you go through it because i love you so much it scares me — and it’s only going to get worse — and how the fuck is that fair to you—”

you gaze at him, eyes wide at his confession. you want to shake him, to scream that he is allowed good things, to scream that his maddeningly abundant empathy should extend to include himself.

“i’m all in, timothée,” you say softly as he wipes the tears streaming down your face, then, as a reminder: “and it’s my choice. i know what i’m getting into. and you are worth it.”

“but i can’t keep you safe, it’s a fucking nightmare,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face, curls falling into his eyes.

you brush them back tenderly as he sniffles, your hands on his cheeks once more. “the only nightmare i have is losing you. the rest we can get through together, because i love you.”

his smile is shaky and lopsided and real as he listens. then he says it for every time he almost did, wind in your hair; down the stairs: repeating it into your skin, over and over and over, “i love you, i love you, i love you.”

Ch🧐