#the lits

[tigereyes45]

For the requests:

Fleve nightmare hurt/comfort, please!

(Librarians)

Thank for leaving a request! Here is your story (there will be a link it's Ao3 page posted at the bottom): Where?

----

Flynn woke up earlier than even his earliest morning. It was thirty seconds past midnight when his eyes opened. He checked the clock on the hotel room’s wall only right before he stepped out the front door. Ten after.

As he steps through the annex’s door his eyes rake themselves across the long table. Papers lie spread out across it. Cassandra’s seat had a chemistry set in front of it, with a rock sitting on top of it all with only a slim piece of paper keeping it from falling into the top vile. Curiously he couldn’t recognize the rock. He should know it. Maybe with a closer look, his sleep-addled brain could finally…Flynn takes a step toward the strange setup, before stopping himself.

Something was off. Pieces were clicking together in his brain as the hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He looks around once more.

Where is everyone?

He raises a finger, wagging it at the silent air. There’s no scurrying amongst the shelves, no soft breathing as Cassandra works, no sudden inhalations over a very riveting part of one of the library’s books from Jacob. Not even the sound of tired complaints, soft mutterings, or even the occasional tinkering from Jenkin’s office. Fearful, Flynn turns to look at his and Eve’s shared desk. It’s organized to Eve’s liking, same as always. Or almost the same.

Flynn quickly strides over to the desk. Everything was in place. Her stacks of papers were neatly organized, pens were in the container, and the middle of the desk was completely clear. He looks around again completely confused.

Except the middle of the desk wasn’t.

Flynn’s eyes dart back down. As if appearing from thin air there was a small note written with short, curt, ink lettering.

‘I can’t do this anymore Flynn. You just keep leaving.

So now, I’ve left.

We’ve all left.’

No.

He drops the paper, and dashes down the hall towards the library’s doors.

No.

They’re locked. He can’t step out of the annex.

No. 

Jenkins is gone. Everything in his lab is empty.

No. 

Cassandra. Only books remain.

No!

Jacob. Nothing’s touch. Nothing’s there.

No!

Ezekiel. His room is picked clean, not even a speck of dust remains.

NO!

He practically busts down the door to his room. All of his things are still there. The paintings, books, and half-finished scrawlings on everything from the walls to random pieces of paper all about. Yet there aren’t any modern photos anymore. Her collage wall of their past adventures is empty. Her pillow is missing, and the closest doesn’t hold any of her clothes anymore. It was almost as if Eve had never been here at all.

In the middle of the room Flynn spins, until his head starts to swirl. He can’t stand anymore. She’s gone. His stomach lurches. Eve is gone. Flynn drops to his knees.

“Flynn!” He can hear her call his name. It sounds like a whisper, short, and low. As if she were afraid to wake him.

He should’ve woken up sooner. Return faster. Flynn raises his head and the walls start to melt around him. Maybe he shouldn’t have left at all.

When the world starts to shake, he squeezes his knees. What can he do? There’s no time. Nobody’s here.

The world gives way, and he’s falling. Air flies past him. It pushes up against the back of his head, driving the edges of his hair to scratch his skin. Hands grab his shoulders. Flynn forces his eyes open, and all he sees is the walls of the annex falling in, and around the whole that swallowed him continues. On and on and-

All at once his limbs jump to attention. Hands fly out, smacking against the bed, as he throws his head up, and legs out. Soft, damp sheets cling to his palms. He takes comfort in the solid, uncaving bed. Flynn blinks the sleep sand from his eyes. In between the third and fourth blink he registers the hands still on his shoulders. They give him a quick squeeze, before moving up to cup his face.

He steals a quick breath. Sweat, salt, Eve’s strawberry scented shampoo all hits his nose at once. Calloused, careful thumbs gently brush the last of the sand away from his eyes. 

“Hey there.”

Flynn blindly throws his arms around her. He pushes his face out of her hands and against her neck. Eyes still shut, he presses himself into her as much as he can. Eve lets out a sigh, before moving her arms around to hold his back and head. 

As his heart settles Flynn dares to speak. “You’re here.”

“Of course I am.” She sounds confident. So why did he feel so anxious? “Where else would I be?”

Where else indeed?

Maybe the nightmare had just been his subconscious reminding him of past mistakes. Could it have been riling him up in response to a deep seated fear? Who knows? He doesn’t need the answer. She’s here.

Eve’s right here in his arms, on their bed, deep within the annex. Home.

----

I'll be taking writing prompts until October 16th at 11:59pm EST.

[emotionalwords]

i’m such a “i want your attention” but “won’t bother you” kinda person

[soracities]

"Absolutely no one comes to save us but us."

Ismatu Gwendolyn, "you've been traumatized into hating reading (and it makes you easier to oppress)", from Threadings, on Substack [ID'd]

[mournfulroses]

Trista Mateer, from "Aphrodite Made Me Do It," originally published in 2024

[sleeplessv0id]

what doesn't kill you makes you weird at intimacy

[monstrousliarstold]

[usefulquotes7]

[flowerytale]

Celeste Ng, Little Fires Everywhere

[resqectable]

Please don’t expect me to always be good and kind and loving. There are times when I will be cold and thoughtless and hard to understand.

Sylvia Plath

[shisasan]

Anaïs Nin, Delta of Venus, originally published: 1977

[dangerouslyfurrydragon]

Date someone who naturally brings out your inner child, makes you laugh, never stops flirting with you, and loves you a little extra on the days you don't feel so loveable.

[fromdarzaitoleeza]

{Words by José Olivarez from Citizen Illegal /@fatimaamerbilal , from even flesh eaters don't want me.}

[flowrrs4u]

I am good. I am loved.

[thepersonalquotes]

this app is literally my public private place to talk to myself

[mournfulroses]

Mary Wollstonecraft Shelley, from a letter to Jane Williams written in February 1823, featured in The Letters of Mary Shelley

[wedarkacademia]

- Evelyn Waugh, from Brideshead Revisited (1945)