#*ask prompt

You have two toothbrushes?” She stumbles blearily out of the bathroom, nose scrunched up in confusion, already-wild hair going in at least nineteen different directions, his t-shirt--too large on her small form--grazing the tops of her knees. She’s adorable, in her own way, and he feels the sudden strong urge to tell her so. To let go of the single thought that’s been sitting on the tip of his tongue for fucking months. I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you. But they don’t say that to each other, so he says the next best thing. “It’s an extra. You know. For when you...sleep over.” He waggles his eyebrows for emphasis and a little part of him dies inside but he figures he’ll deal with it later. She rolls her eyes before turning back to where she came, but he still manages to catch the tail-end of a smile on her face and it’s enough for him to follow her into the bathroom, snaking his arms around her waist as she stands at the sink, eyes on the blue toothbrush as she twirls it back and forth between her fingers. “Blue’s my favorite color.” “I know.” She smiles as he leans down to kiss her on the cheek, and he knows that she knows too.

so, lost princess, huh?” (tell me they’re lying) “that’s--that’s what everyone’s saying.” (i wish that i could) “oh, well if everyone’s saying it then it must be true.” (i don’t want you to go) “i guess so...but i don’t really think i’m princess material.” (then tell me to stay) “are you kidding? you charmed the pants off a bunch of dangerous thugs, you’re not gonna have any problem with stuffy royalty.” (you deserve more than me) “i don’t know. what if i say the wrong thing? or use the wrong spoon? or dance the wrong way or--or--” (i don’t want any more) “hey hey hey, listen rapunzel, you’ve got nothing to worry about. you’re a lot stronger than you think you are--and i’ve got the bumps on my head to prove it.” (i can’t hold you back) “i think you’re just being nice.” (please don’t say goodbye) “blondie, when am i ever nice?” (i have to let you go) “you know, i guess you can’t really call me blondie, anymore.” (i don’t want this to end) “rapunzel, you’ll always be blondie to me.” (i love you) “as long as i can still call you eugene.” (i love you, too)

dead people don’t have friends. dead people don’t worry about their family. dead people don’t give a shit about anything. but simba is alive. he knows he’s alive because his knuckles are hardened over in a dark red that matches the stain on the floor he’s never worked up the nerve to ask about and there’s a sharp throbbing in his hands that hasn’t faded from the night before. he knows he’s alive because he can feel the tremors going through his arms as he fights to sit still, sit forward, be dead be dead be dead. he knows he’s alive because he can hear his heartbeat drumming in his ears, loud enough to cause a headache but not loud enough to cover the noises coming from the only other room in the house. he hears shit getting knocked over, followed by muffled swearing, and then what sounds like a hair dryer going on and off a few times. if this were anything else he would’ve smiled. 5 minutes later. 5 years later. he’s really not sure. but kovu comes out of the bedroom. his hair is perfectly messy, his shirt is free of stains, which is a miracle in itself, and he’s pacing back and forth like he’s nervous. be dead be dead be dead be dead be dead. “uhhh, hey simba i gotta get goin’. i’ve got, um--” simba cracks a smile. do dead people smile? the effort it takes tells him no. “yeah yeah, i know buddy. get outta here.” kovu almost smiles, a visible weight off his shoulders as he stuffs his hands in his pockets and heads for the door. simba turns away. he closes his eyes. dead people don’t see. he holds his breath. dead people don’t breathe. he bites his lip. dead people don’t talk. but simba is alive. “hey, kovu!” the boy turns back, eyebrows raised like he’s expecting what comes next. “don’t, um. i mean. just--” kovu claps a hand on his shoulder. he feels it in his bones like an aftershock. “i know, man.” simba watches him go this time, out the door and into his car. keep her safe. keep her happy. tell her i’m sorry. tell her i’m dead.

Anonymous asked you: {six sentence fics}