Sickfic/Hurt/Comfort Any Timothee Character Of Your Choice :)

Sickfic/Hurt/Comfort Any Timothee character of your choice :)

On Edge

Summary: Lee saves eater!reader from themselves.

C/W: Suicidal ideation

One last sunset. That was your last wish. You had spent all day driving to a spot you knew had a great western view. At last, you stood on the precipice of the tallest point in the state just in time to watch the sun sink below the horizon. A slight breeze swept your hair behind you and cooled the tears on your cheeks. The air was fragrant from the wildflowers that bloomed below.

You heard a twig snap behind you. You startled and jolted, knocking rocks off the cliff's edge as you turned toward the noise. The amount of time it took to hear them hit the bottom made your resolve waiver slightly. In the dimming light, you saw a lanky figure with curly red hair emerging from the woods.

"Whoa there. I'm not going to hurt you," a tenor voice called out. He walked slowly toward you, with a slight crouch to his step and a hand held out, like he was trying to calm a scared feral kitten. "What brings you to the edge of the Earth?"

"A fitting end for reaching my limits, is it not?"

A brief flash of sadness (and was that...recognition?) flitted across his face. "My name is Lee. What's yours?"

"[Y/N]."

"Well, [Y/N], if you jump, I jump," he stated matter-of-factly.

"That's insane. You would die, too!" you exclaimed in disbelief.

"Well, I can't turn away now. I'm involved," he said flatly as he set down his pack. "But maybe you can fill me in on why we have to die today?"

You looked over your shoulder back at the sunset. "I- I just can't do it anymore. My family wants nothing to do with me. I k-keep screwing things up, so I can't stay in one place long enough to make new friends. I'm...too different."

"I know. So am I." Lee gestured to himself. "This may sound weird," he paused, "but I could smell you from miles away."

"Smell me?" you asked incredulously.

Lee nodded. "Food just doesn't cut it for you, does it? You feel a deep ache down to your core until you...feed?"

You paled. Conversations about your eating habits usually required you to flee. You stepped back reflexively and lost your footing.

"[Y/N]!" Lee screamed and lunged forward to grab your hand as you slid off the edge. You cried and screamed, clawing at the rocks with your free hand until you were able to grab his arm. He pulled you back to safety and clutched you to his chest.

You shook like a leaf in his embrace. "I- I thought I was the only one." You felt him shake his head as he rested his cheek on your hair.

"You are not alone." You heard his voice catch as if he were crying. "Let me prove it to you. I will spend the rest of my life trying to prove it to you, if you'll let me."

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Masterlist

A/N: slight inspiration taken from the jumping scene of Titanic

Still Here (+1)

Summary: Madison asks Timothée to escort her to the school's father-daughter dance. Total "girl dad" material.

A/N: There are scenes I had in mind for my Still Here series that just didn't quite fit cleanly into any of the chapters, so I decided to add some "deleted scenes" for my loyal fans. Catch up on the main storyline here.

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"Mom," Madison called out to you as she emptied her backpack in the mudroom. She produced a flyer for an upcoming school dance. A father-daughter dance.

"Do you think Timothée would take me?" she asked sheepishly. "It says stepparents or father figures are welcome," she added, pointing to the small text on the announcement.

You were simultaneously both overjoyed at how close Madison and Timothée had become and saddened that her biological father hadn't reached out to her in months. You knew without a doubt, though, that Timothée would be over the moon to escort her. He loved her as his own before the two of you were even married.

"I'm sure he would happy to. Do you want to ask him, or would you like me to?"

"I'll do it tonight when we go bowling." It was their Tuesday tradition.

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"Timothée, can I ask you a question?" Madison inquired as she tied her bowling shoes.

"Sure, kiddo. You can always ask me anything, anytime."

"So, there's this dance coming up. It's...it's a father-daughter dance." Timothée paused tying his own shoes to look up at her. "And I- I was wondering if...," - she bit her lip before continuing - "if you would go with me. Since, you know, you're like my bonus dad. You don't have to, of course, I jus-"

Timothée placed his hands on her shoulders and interrupted before she spiraled further. "I'd be honored to, Madison." He pulled her into a hug and kissed the top of her head, wiping a tear off his cheek before she could spot it.

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The night of the dance came. Timothée emerged from your bedroom in a black button-up shirt tucked into black pants. He looked just as polished as he did for your wedding, minus the suit jacket.

You whistled at him. "Hey, handsome."

"Do I look alright?" he asked as he fidgeted with his belt.

You chuckled. "You look very nice, Timmy. Why are you nervous?"

"This is my first official event as stepdad," he said softly as he absentmindedly played with the clear plastic box for Madison's wrist corsage, which he picked out himself. "I want to get it right."

You swooned at his sincerity. "Being present is more than enough." You laid your hand on his arm in ressurance. "Now, you wait here while I go help Maddy finish up." You knocked on her door and slipped inside.

Timothée looked up when he heard the door knob to Madison's room turn about half an hour later. She walked out slowly with you following close behind, giving you the perfect view of Timothée's face as he took in the sight.

Madison wore a long light pink dress. Her blonde hair was tied half up with a matching pink ribbon. The rest fell onto her shoulders in cascading ringlets. Her outfit was complete with white shoes with a tiny heel.

Timothée smiled. "Wow. You look beautiful, kiddo. Like a princess."

Madison blushed as he playfully bowed and took her hand to place the flower corsage on her wrist. You took tons of pictures and sent them on their way. He offered her his arm and led her outside. You watched out the window as he opened the door of the blue pickup and offered her a hand to get inside. You had no doubt that she would be treated like a princess for the rest of the night.

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Masterlist

Tag List:

@croatianprincess

@bluizh

@jindongdongie

@groovy-lady

You know when someone goes through your blog on a mass like-spree for a fandom? I love those like, 19 notifications in a row. it’s like “Ah, I see you’re well into a fixation. God bless.”

Elio Perlman is art

Call Me by Your Name (2017) dir. Luca Guadagnino

Woke up to Owen Lars thoughts. Specifically re: C-3PO.

Our guy Owen has avoided owning a droid for 20+ years because they remind him of Shmi. He’s had to deal with the Jawas the whole time and knows it would go a hell of a lot better with a translator, but every time he thinks about getting a protocol droid he thinks about Shmi. About how she doted on that insufferably annoying droid because it was her last connection to her son. And he decides he can go another year relying on gestures and paying more than the parts he’s getting are worth.

But now he only has Luke’s help for one more harvest and he’s not getting any younger - his joints ache more and more with each sandstorm - and he decides it’s time to face his ghosts. He can’t avoid reminders of the past forever. He sends Luke for some droids.

And the boy comes back with C3P0

The droid doesn’t look the same - he’s been treated to some upgrades over the years and some fancy gold plating they couldn’t have afforded to give him - but he gives his designation and it’s not just a similar robotic voice dragging up memories that both haunt Owen and remind him of better times. But it’s him, without a doubt. C-3PO human cyborg relations. Shmi’s most prized possession. Returned back to her home and final resting place, back to the last piece of her son.

To Luke.

And when the stormtroopers break down the door and pour in, he has a moment of pure relief that Luke isn’t home. That this time it won’t be a Skywalker’s body found broken in the desert.

He should have known. An R2 unit had rolled up and interrupted Shmi’s humble funeral and Anakin had swept away to whatever dangers waited for him in the stars. He’d brought the two droids with him and the Lars were left to mourn and heal and carry on under the harsh suns. They looked after themselves and weathered the heat and the sand like everything else that was born, and fated to die, in the desert.

But not Luke. Luke wasn’t born on Tatooine, even though the boy has the desert in his blood. Owen sees the same relief written in Beru’s eyes as he takes her hand. Luke isn’t going to die here.

He has the stars in his blood too.

Owen just hopes the boy will meet a better end than his father. That his story won’t end so soon.

timmy one-shot!! 🤍

prompt : "are you wearing my shirt?"

lmk if you have any requests!!

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"are you wearing my shirt?" he looks up at me.

he just sat down at the dining table. i was making a sandwich and he had only just woke up.

"yeah is that alright?" i asked with some worry.

"yeah, is fine" he said with some mumble. his mouth full with toast.

"you look cute in it" he smiled up as i stood in front of him, between his legs.

his hands came up to rest on my waist.

"you're so pretty" i kissed his temple.

he pulls me down to sit on his knee. i smiled into his forehead.

"you're the pretty one, my pretty girl" i blush into his neck as he strokes the back of my (his) shirt.