#Doing great just need to breathe normally
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cressidagrey · 1 day ago
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Holy Ground - Prologue
Summary:
Nobody knew that Azriel found his mate. Until she nearly died. This is the aftermath.
Warning:
Rhys Bashing (as usual), Inner Circle Bashing (kinda), Referenced/Implied Sexual Assault, Referenced/Implied Domestic Violence, Discussion of Religion(?)
If any of this triggers you or makes you uncomfortable, please take care of your own mental health and don't read it.
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Azriel had always liked Starfall. 
Even he could enjoy one night a year where they danced and were merry…where they pretended that everything was just fine. 
Just that this year…he couldn’t quite manage it. 
Feyre had invited Lucien. 
A year after that catastrophic Winter Solstice. 
And for the very first time, Elain…Elain seemed not just willing but genuinely happy to converse with her mate.
*Keep away from her,* Rhys had repeated his order that morning, making it very clear what he wanted his spymaster to do. And Azriel…well, he had acquiesced. 
Of course, he did. 
Nobody had even noticed when he had slipped away…Nobody had wanted to notice. Why should they? They were all content...they were all happy.
Mor's mating bond with Emerie had snapped just weeks before and that had...everybody was so very pleased for her.
*You are not going to ruin this for Mor,* Rhys had snapped into his mind. *She has been through enough.*
Azriel wasn't going to ruin it. 
So he pretended that everything was normal. And then he disappeared silently, and launched himself off the balcony and went flying. He didn't need to think when he did that. Even the shadows kept silent.
The night sky was a velvety black, speckled with countless glittering stars. 
Azriel loved to fly, loved the rush of the wind buffeting his body, the exhilarating feeling of power and freedom. He soared high into the sky, basking in the cool breeze on his face.
At least he had this .
As a child it was all he had wanted. And now...now it was...now it was seemingly the one thing that gave him something close to peace. The last few green sparkling streaks on the sky...Skyfall was nearly over, once again.
He basked in it for a little while. Until he felt the scratch of Rhys' mental claws against his walls.
*Azriel,* Rhys' voice was harsh, sharp, demanding. *Where are you?*
* Out. * Azriel answered simply. * Flying. *
*Come back,* Rhys ordered with a sigh. *Look, I get it. You are angry at me.*
Azriel didn't even bother answering to that, swooping lower and then pushing higher again, revelling in the cold night air.
*Elain and Lucien are figuring things out,* Rhys continued.
* Good for them, * Azriel replied, his tone still bland. * Is there anything else? *
Rhys let out an exasperated breath.
*Azriel...I am sorry,* his brother apologised. *Be angry at me all you like. This would have only ended in heartbreak for you anyway.*
*That should have been my decision to make,* Azriel's voice was cold, curt, brooking no argument.
Rhys sighed. *Not if the political ramifications could have upset an already strained peace,* Rhys snapped. *Be reasonable, Azriel.*
* Are you done? * he asked Rhys drily.
*Azriel... * Rhys' voice was exasperated. *Fine. Be angry with me, if it makes you feel better,* his brother snorted. *If you want to throw a tantrum like a child, be my guest.*
Azriel gritted his teeth. This was not a tantrum. *Great. Thanks.* he shot back at Rhys nonetheless.
*Elain is happy, Azriel,* Rhys said softly. *And you should be happy for her.*
* Fine, * he said, voice toneless. * I am happy for her. What else do you want from me, Rhys? *
*For you to stop sulking,* Rhys replied. *And to come back to the Party.*
*No,* Azriel said simply, making another loop in the sky, feeling the wind rushing past him.
*Azriel,* Rhys growled, his temper shortening. I mean it. 
*I think I'll go to that pleasure hall near the harbour instead,* Azriel said, his voice cold. * After all, if I want to fuck somebody, I should go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, right? *
*Azriel!* his brother snapped, clearly irritated. *That is enough.*
* What? I am just following your orders, High Lord, * Azriel gave back icily.
*You sound like a petulant child.* Rhys snapped.
* Go back to your party, * Azriel said drily. * I'll be just fine. *
Rhys let out a huffing breath. *Fine. Go and pout some more.*
Azriel ignored his brother, closing the connection and feeling his walls snap back into place.He would pout some more. Thank you very much.
Azriel flew higher, ignoring the party, ignoring everything. He pushed his wings faster, harder, revelling in the wind, in the silence, in the stars above him.
The only sound he could hear was his heartbeat, pulsing in his ears, matching the beating of his wings as he flew. He flew and flew and flew, until his muscles ached, until his wings felt heavy.
It was nice. He liked it. He loved it, in fact.
There was a reason he loved flying so much. It was freedom, it was a rush, but most of all it was quiet.
He did go back to the House of Wind…even when he had no plans to go back to that party. He would go to his room and pout some more. Maybe write some more reports.
Do whatever the High Lord expected the Spymaster to do. 
He landed one one of the many, many balconies, recognising the Priestesses’ herb garden with a start. 
"Spymaster."
Azriel froze for a heartbeat, closing his eyes, cursing mentally. He had wanted to come back unnoticed, to slip in silently. But apparently he wasn’t the lucky. 
One of the Priestesses was sitting on the balcony’s ledge. He wasn’t scared that she was going to jup, simply because the balconies were spelled to prevent exactly that. 
Sitting there, wrapped in a thick knitted blanket, with dark brown hair reached her waist was Irena. 
Clotho’s right hand. The one in charge of seemingly all the paperwork that involved the library. All the bureaucracy went over Irena’s desk, all the accounts and acquisitions… 
She was the daughter of one merchant of the midlands, married off to another richer merchant as soon as she had been barely old enough. 
Azriel had met her for the first time two centuries ago. There had been a string of disappearances of young girls in the surrounding areas and his shadows had very quickly found the culprit. 
Azriel had killed her husband…before he could kill Irena. Her husband had had a taste for violence…his young, beautiful wife had been one of his long-suffering victims. 
Azriel had brought her to the library. He hadn’t really thought that she would bloom here as she had…hadn’t thought that a girl raised with a silver spoon in her mouth would be content with in the library. But she was. 
And Irena turned out to be one of those scarily efficient people that could do the job of three people. In two hundred years, she had actually managed to make the House of Wind cost Rhys nearly nothing in upkeep anymore. Thanks to the gardens of the priestesses that kept them in fruits and vegetables and herbs…some of them sold to the vendors in Velaris, some turned into creams and potions in the stillroom, that were also sold…the library was just one thing the priestesses did. Some preferred the stillroom or the gardens or even needle work, knitted sweaters that were handed out to the needy in Velaris.
She had done that. Had bloomed and flourished here. 
"Irena," he finally brought out, his voice hoarse.
She turned to face him for the first time. She had just grown more beautiful over the years…with long dark hair and dark doe eyes sat in a delicate face. 
But all of that didn’t matter anymore. The moment their eyes met...suddenly everything changed.
His priorities were rearranged. All he cared about anymore was her. Was the priestess wrapped in her wool blanket sitting on that balcony ledge…
Irena. 
She was his mate .
" Oh ," she breathed, her brown doe eyes widening near comically large.
Azriel just stared at her, feeling as though even the world had stopped breathing.
His mate .
His mate was sitting in front of him. 
Irena .
Irena was his mate.
"Azriel," she whispered,  her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.
 They just stared at each other for a long, long time. He stepped closer to her, wanting to touch her, wanting to feel her soft skin beneath his fingers, her soft lips against his. He wanted to pull her close...he wanted...
But Azriel didn't reach out. he didn't want to scare her. Didn't want to corner her. So he simply leant next to the railing a little bit away from her, still staring at her. "I..." he stuttered, trying to come up with he perfect sentence to tell his mate.
"I...I didn't expect that," Irena whispered.
"Me neither," Azriel said quietly, still slightly breathless, the information slowly sinking in.
"But it's not... unwelcome ?" Irena offered next.
"Absolutely not," Azriel said immediately. "I mean..." he said. She looked so small, sitting there on the ledge, wrapped into her blanket. One delicate shoulder poked out of it, only covered by white, near translucent cotton. She must only be wearing her nightdress, he realised suddenly. 
She looked…so young right at that moment. 
"Are you okay?" he asked her quietly, still staring at her, a soft, tender feeling spreading through him.
His . She was his .
Irena closed her eyes with a heavy breath, before nodding hesitantly. "I just....this was..." she said slowly, not daring to look at him. "It was unexpected."
"For both of us," Azriel said quietly, trying to read her expression. Was it...was she happy? Was she upset ?
She nodded, and then bit her lip. "I..." she started and his eyes lingered at that small, plump lip of hers, wishing that he would be the one biting it.
"I'm sorry," she said quietly and he instantly snapped his eyes back up to her face. "Sorry?" he echoed, frowning, because...what was she apologizing for?
"I mean," she continued, her dark brows knitting together as she bit her lip. Oh dear god, Azriel had never wanted to be a lip so much in his life. "I... I don't think I'm what you were expecting ."
Azriel took a breath, ready to assure her that he was positively delighted at the prospect of her being his mate but the words didn't quite leave his lips because...
"Are you dissappointed?" he managed, his hands clenching around the railing. He was scared what her answer would be.
She finally looked at him. Looked into his eyes and Azriel felt the world slow down for a moment, felt his throat tighten as she searched his expression, searching for something.
Whatever she was searching for, she seemed to find it though because she let out a sigh of relief, her lips quirking into a small, self-depreciating smile. "No," she said honestly. Azriel's breath caught at the Genuity on her face. "No, I'm not. But I...I don't know what...if I can ever give you..." Irena said weakly.
He shook his head. "We have time," Azriel promised her fiercely. All the time. They could figure this out at their own pace.
"Time," Irena echoed softly, looking towards the vast, twinkling night sky, the stars reflected in her eyes.
She looked back at him for a moment, and he could see an almost helpless expression in her eyes.
 "I...I don't want to disappoint you,” she said quietly. 
"You couldn’t," Azriel whispered, still staring at her, at the beautiful face of his mate. "Believe me, you never could disappoint me."
She gave him the tiniest smile. She didn't believe him, he knew that. Regardless of how ridiculous it was. She deserved more than him. More than scarred and battered and broken warrior.
"I will never...I will never force you," he promised her softly. "I will never..."
She nodded, but Azriel still saw something like relief flash over her face.
It broke his heart. "You are a good male," she whispered.
"No. I am not," Azriel immediately disagreed, because he knew he wasn't. He couldn't even begin to name all the things he had done, all the horrors he had committed. 
He had killed her husband. That was just one of the things on his long, long list. “You deserve better than me,” he said weakly. 
"You are my mate," Irena murmured softly. "There is nothing better."
"I...have...killed people," he protested. Killed her husband too. though he did think that that male deserved it.
"You did," she agreed. "You are a warrior. A protector. You were the one that saved me" she said quietly.
Irena took a deep breath, and then, slowly, reached out, touching his scarred fingers, running small, delicate fingertips over the back of his hands, and Azriel froze, completely still, hardly able to breath as she slowly traced the scars on his skin.
Her touch was light, but searing, making his skin tingle.
He slowly turned his hand, catching her fingers between his, squeezing gently as he intertwined their hands.
"I will never force you. I will never lay a finger on you. Whatever we do in the future, is your decision," he swore. 
She stared up at him, the stars reflected in her eyes, her cheeks a faint pink.
Beautiful . Azriel thought, mesmerized and completely enraptured.
"I believe you," she whispered and Azriel's breath caught.
From her...that had been hurt so much...to hear that...it was...
"I will protect you," Azriel promised fiercely and her breath hitched as he lifted her hand, carefully, gently pressing his lips to the tips of her fingers. "I will protect you with my life."
She smiled at him then, a real smile, and Azriel felt as though his heart might stop. He had thought her beautiful before, but now, with her face illuminated in all its delicate beauty by the starry night sky...she was breathtaking .
"I...I will need some time to adjust," Irena said softly. Azriel just nodded dumbly, still a little star struck by her smile. "I...I haven't..." Irena said and she turned her head, looking out into the night sky, her hand still in his.
She hesitated, clearly struggling for words, and Azriel felt his heart seize up in his chest. Had he overwhelmed her? Had he pressured her?
"I haven't been with anyone in a long time." she admitted quietly. Irena didn't look at him, but Azriel was still looking at her, taking in her soft, almost angelic features, the slight blush on her cheeks.
He swallowed."I understand," Azriel whispered, and he did. He understood her hesitation, her uncertainty. And he would be patient...he would wait for as long as she needed.
"But...if you wanted to...you know where to find me," she said softly.
Azriel felt as though he was dreaming. He had found his mate, his beautiful, incredible mate, and she had welcomed him, wanted him even, and
Breathe .  He told himself as he tried to calm the hammering of his heart. Breathe .
And slowly, carefully, he nodded, his fingers still interlaced with hers. "I will come to you," he said, his voice husky. "Whenever you want me too."
She was...a gift. A gift he didn't deserve but would treasure always.
Slowly...and so, so very carefully, Azriel stepped closer to her, still holding her hand, before lowering himself slowly down to sit next to her on the ledge. And this close he could sense just how much smaller she was than him, could feel the heat radiating from her body, smell her scent.
Poppies and something sweet and warm like…apple blossoms maybe?
Azriel wanted...gods, he wanted to kiss her.
But he didn't. He just held her hand, trying to memorize every small detail of hers. The curve of her cheek, the soft blush on her skin, her nose, the full lips.... The tiny flecks of gold in her eyes that reflected the stars above them.
She was breathtakingly beautiful
For a moment Azriel forgot where there were, forgot the cold air around them. For a moment there were only the two of them on this ledge, beneath the stars and a soft night sky. And it was...he felt peaceful .
It wasn't a feeling he had a lot. But here, on the ledge, his hand in hers, he felt at peace. And when Irena slowly rested her head on his shoulder, Azriel could feel nothing but utter contentment.
His heart swelled with affection for her, and he carefully rested his cheek against her head, taking a deep breath.
This was real. She was his mate.
She was truly, truly his.
His .
And nobody knew. Nobody had a clue. He could keep her all to himself.
And selfishly...that felt really good.
Nobody was going to have an opinion about them. Nobody needed to know now.
He wanted to keep her a secret. Gods, he wanted to.
She let out a soft, content sigh, her head still resting on his shoulder, and Azriel smiled to himself.
Notes:
If you liked this fic, then kudos, comments or constructive criticism are greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!
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meazalykov · 2 days ago
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let me in
giulia gwinn x anxiety!reader
part one - part two
summary: you try to hide it, but she already knows
warnings: diagnosed anxiety, fear, zoloft mentions, angst, split into two parts because of the word count
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the second half starts, and somehow, you manage to push through. you make an assist to sydney. for a fleeting moment, there’s a spark of joy. you’re happy for her, you really are. 
then you start to think that you’ve realized something. the acknowledgment you’re used to isn’t coming. no one is rushing to congratulate you for the assist, like they normally do for anyone else who makes a great play. 
you know it’s not because they don’t care, but your mind betrays you. it starts spinning with doubt, with fear. did they notice the mistake you made earlier? do they think you’re not good enough? why is no one congratulating you?
your heart beats faster now, the panic rising again. you try to push the thoughts aside, to focus on the game, but the fear is too strong. it’s all you can think about. 
then, a familiar voice pulls you from your spiraling thoughts. pernille is next to you, her arms around you in a tight hug. 
“you did great,” she says, her voice warm and reassuring. 
tuva follows, giving you a pat on the back, and for a brief moment, the fog lifts. you’ve made a mistake, but they don’t hate you. they don’t blame you. they still believe in you.
your heart is still racing, too fast, too loud, pounding against your chest like it's trying to break free. calm down, calm down, you tell yourself, but it doesn’t help. 
nothing helps. it’s like a constant hum of anxiety buzzing in your ears, drowning out everything else.
when the coach calls for the substitution, you barely register it at first. you’re already so deep in your head that the words don't hit until he’s looking directly at you, a hint of concern in his eyes. you blink, startled, as he gives a quick nod towards the sideline. 
linda comes on for you, and you give her a light hug before the coach reaches out to put his hand on your shoulder.
"y/n, rest. you did great. go ahead and sit the last twenty minutes out."
it feels like the earth shifts beneath your feet. the pressure mounting in your chest. as you walk toward the benches , all you can feel is this deep sense of failure. 
I didn’t do well. I wasn’t good enough. that’s why he’s subbing me off. 
your pulse doesn’t slow down as you sit on the bench, your leg bouncing uncontrollably. you try to still it, but your body doesn’t listen. it’s as if the constant movement is the only thing you can do to release the built-up energy inside of you. 
I wasn’t good enough, you repeat, the thoughts relentless, pushing through the cracks in your mind. 
sam kerr sits beside you, and without a word, she leans her head on your shoulder. it’s a small gesture, but it’s enough. the weight of her support, her presence, pulls you out of the storm in your head, if only for a moment. 
“great job love,” you hear her say silently, and you want to believe her, want to feel proud of what you’ve done, but it’s so hard to shake the feeling of not being enough. 
you glance back at the field, watching the play unfold, but your focus isn’t there. your body feels heavy, and your mind is racing. 
I don’t belong here. I can’t even finish a game. I’m not enough for this team. 
the rest of the game moves in a blur as you try to calm your breathing, to remind yourself that it’s okay, that you’re doing your best. 
the anxiety has a grip on you, pulling you deeper. your leg keeps bouncing, faster now, each movement a desperate attempt to release the tension building inside you. it’s exhausting, and the fear is suffocating. 
when the coach comes over after the game, his words are meant to comfort you. 
“y/n, you did great out there. you’re doing everything right. you just needed a break—take it easy.” but they don’t sink in, not right away. you nod and give him a quick smile, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. 
I didn’t do great, you think. I was subbed out. I couldn’t finish the match.
ten minutes after the ending of the game, you’re surrounded by teammates celebrating the 5-2 victory over arsenal. it should feel like a triumph, and in some ways, it does. 
when you’re talking to lea about the win, lena—still recovering from her ACL injury—suddenly picks you up from behind, lifting you off your feet in an enthusiastic embrace.
“you did so good!!!” she shouts, her voice filled with joy.
for a split second, panic courses through you. you freeze, body rigid, terrified that somehow you’re going to hurt her. you don’t want to be the reason she gets injured again. you pull away quickly, a nervous laugh escaping your lips as you explain, 
“i don’t want to be the reason you get hurt again.”
lena laughs, shaking her head. “you’re so light. you couldn’t hurt me,” she reassures you, and for the first time all day, you feel a little bit lighter. 
the fear begins to lift, and you let out a shaky breath, finally starting to believe that maybe you’re being ridiculous, you’re not as bad as your anxiety makes you think.
lea picks you up next, and for a fleeting moment, you feel the weight of your worries start to fade. the team loves you. they don’t hate you. they’re not disappointed in you. you are enough.
later that night, when you and giulia arrive home, the house feels different. quieter. more intimate. the adrenaline of the match still buzzes in your veins, but now you’re alone with giulia. 
she sits next to you on the couch, her strong arms around you as you both begin to unwind. you talk about the game. your assist, the plays you both loved from giuli, the moments that didn’t go as planned. 
then giulia’s tone shifts. she’s quieter now, her hand resting on your knee as she watches you carefully.
“how’s therapy going?” she asks, her voice gentle but probing.
the question catches you off guard, and suddenly, you’re paralyzed with fear. you’ve been hiding the truth from her for so long. the medication. the diagnosis. the fact that things haven’t gotten better, despite what you’ve been telling everyone, including her. your chest tightens as the words struggle to leave your mouth. 
(throwback) you sit in the small, sterile office at bayern’s campus, your fingers anxiously tapping against the arms of the chair. the white walls seem to close in on you as you try to focus on the woman sitting across from you. 
the psychiatrist. 
she’s kind and patient, but everything about this situation feels foreign and uncomfortable. you’re not used to talking about your feelings. you’ve spent your whole life pushing them down, burying them behind a smile, behind the constant drive to be better, to be strong. 
today, everything feels too much. too heavy.
“y/n, you’ve been dealing with a lot of pressure lately,” she says, her voice soft but steady. 
“and it’s okay to admit that you’re struggling with it. it’s more common than you might think.”
you want to argue. i’m fine, you want to say. i don’t need help. however, the words stick in your throat. you can’t lie, not anymore. not when it feels like your entire body is suffocating under the weight of everything. 
you nod, even though a part of you still wants to shut it all down. it’s too much now. the fear. the racing thoughts. the panic attacks. it’s been months, and it’s only getting worse. so you listen as the psychiatrist continues, explaining how anxiety can feel like an endless cycle that’s hard to escape, how sometimes your mind just needs help. 
medication, she suggests, can ease the constant tension, help you regain some control. 
she mentions zoloft, a small pill to take each morning. at first, the idea of it makes you cringe. medication? you’ve never been the type to rely on pills, but deep down, you know something has to change. 
you’re tired of feeling like your chest is going to explode every time you step onto the pitch. tired of the constant weight of guilt and fear that follows you everywhere.
“it might take some time to work,” she says, as if reading your mind. “it can help. we can monitor it together with the rest of the doctors here.”
you nod again, though it feels like a distant part of you is screaming to stop. you don’t want to admit that something’s wrong, that you’re not strong enough to handle it all. but here you are, agreeing to try something new, agreeing to take that pill. 
you want to believe it’ll work, but you’re also afraid it won’t. if it doesn’t, what will that say about you?
the psychiatrist hands you the prescription, and you take it, your hands shaking slightly. the weight of the small bottle feels overwhelming, like it holds all your fears inside. this is it, you think. this is the fix. this is how it’s going to get better. the thought doesn’t make you feel better. it only makes the weight heavier. what if it doesn’t work?
that night, when you get home, you find yourself standing in front of the dresser, staring at the small, nondescript bottle in your hand. 
you want to hide it. you don’t want anyone—especially giulia—to know. you can’t let her see this side of you, not when you’ve worked so hard to keep up the facade. 
without thinking, you open the drawer of your underwear dresser. it feels like the safest place, the one place where no one would look. you tuck the bottle inside, burying it underneath your things, as if hiding it will somehow make it less real. less of a reflection of what’s wrong with you.
the next morning, you take the pill as if it’s just another routine. but the guilt hangs over you, a shadow that doesn’t leave. 
you try not to think about it, but the more you take the pill each day, the worse it feels. it doesn’t help. it doesn’t change anything.you think that you’re still broken. it only makes you feel like you’re drifting farther away from yourself like you’re numbing your emotions, but not in a good way. 
it’s like you’re fading into someone else’s skin, and you don’t know how to stop it.
you feel like you’re suffocating in your own mind, and you don’t know how to explain it to giulia. 
what if she thinks I’m not good enough for her? what if she sees me as weak? she’s always been your anchor, the one person you never want to disappoint, but telling her about this... it feels like the ultimate failure.
and so, you keep it to yourself. the pill bottle stays hidden, tucked away in that drawer. the anxious thoughts continue to spiral, unchecked, but you don’t want anyone to know. not even giulia. not even her.
back to the present– giulia’s quiet, but you can feel the weight of her gaze on you. she’s waiting, and you know she’s already figured out that something’s wrong. it’s been weeks, and the cracks in your facade are starting to show.
“therapy has been fine.” you smile, pulling a loose piece of blonde hair behind giulia’s ear. her hair wasn’t in her signature ponytail braid from the game, but in loose curls over her shoulders that the braid gave her. 
you try to focus on something, anything—anything to avoid her eyes—but it’s useless. your hands are shaking, and every thought feels like it’s running away from you. the anxiety from the match still lingers in your chest, but now it’s compounded by guilt. 
guilt for not telling her sooner. guilt for hiding the truth. you feel trapped in your own head, like you’re suffocating under the weight of your own emotions.
giulia watches you carefully, her brow furrowed. she doesn’t need to ask anymore. she knows. and that’s what scares you most.
“y/n,” giulia finally says, her voice calm but firm. 
“you know we need to talk, right?”
you swallow hard. your throat feels tight, the words stuck there. you try to smile, but it feels forced, like it won’t reach your eyes. 
“about what?”
she leans forward, elbows resting on her knees, eyes never leaving yours. 
“about you. about everything you’ve been hiding.”
the words hit like a punch to the stomach, and you flinch. hiding—the word stings. because it’s true. you’ve been hiding everything. everything that’s been eating at you for months now. 
the anxiety, the fear, the constant worry that you’re not good enough—that you’ll fail again and let everyone down. especially her. the person who’s always had your back for the last five years. the person who’s seen you at your best, at your worst, and still loved you unconditionally. 
now, you’re afraid to admit that you’ve been struggling.
“giulia, I don’t—” you begin, but she interrupts, her tone sharper now, like she’s not going to let you brush it off again.
“don’t, y/n. don’t shut me out again!” giulia’s voice is soft but serious, and her eyes search yours with a piercing intensity. 
“i’ve seen the way you’ve been. I’ve seen how you’ve been withdrawing, how you’re not talking to me or anyone else about it. I know you’re not okay. I know you’re not just tired or stressed from the game. this is something else. I want to help.”
you feel your chest tighten at her words. you want to tell her everything, want to explain what’s been going on inside your head, but the fear grips you tight. 
what if she thinks you’re weak? what if she thinks she can’t handle this part of you? what if she doesn’t understand? you thought.
giulia’s expression softens, her tone gentler now, but she doesn’t back down. 
“y/n, I know you better than anyone. and I can see it. I know what’s been going on. I know you’re struggling with anxiety. and I know you’ve been taking medication for it. you don’t have to hide it from me anymore.”
the room goes quiet. your heart skips a beat, and the blood rushes to your ears. 
how does she know? you didn’t tell her. you didn’t want to burden her with it, didn’t want her to look at you differently. 
somehow, giulia knows. she’s known all along.
“giulia, I—” you start, but she cuts you off, her voice gentle but firm.
“why didn’t you tell me, y/n?” giulia asks, her voice laced with a mix of concern and hurt. 
“why didn’t you come to me? why have you been hiding this from me?”
the words hit you like a slap, and you blink back the tears that threaten to fall. 
“i didn’t want you to think I was... weak,” you admit, your voice trembling.
 i didn’t want you to think I was... broken.”
giulia leans in, her hand reaching for yours, gently taking it in hers. her grip is steady, warm, and you feel a little bit of the weight on your chest lift. 
“y/n, you’re not broken,” she says softly. 
“you’re human. and being human means you have struggles. you have fears, and you have moments where you need help. that doesn’t make you weak. it makes you real. I’m not going anywhere. I want to help you, but you have to let me in.”
you feel the tears that you’ve been holding back finally spill over, hot and unrelenting. the sobs wrack your body as giulia pulls you into her arms, holding you close. you’ve been so terrified of letting her see you like this—vulnerable, broken, messy. 
you realize that she’s not looking at you with disappointment. she’s not seeing your anxiety as a flaw or a weakness. she’s seeing you. all of you.
“i’m sorry,” you choke out, your voice muffled against her shoulder. 
“i didn’t mean to shut you out. i thought... i thought you’d think i wasn’t strong enough to be your partner anymore.”
giulia shakes her head, her fingers soothing through your hair. 
“y/n, I never thought that. I never would. I don’t need you to be perfect. I just need you to be you. and right now, that means letting me be here for you.”
“we’ll get through this together, okay?” giulia whispers into your hair, her voice filled with unwavering support. 
“you don’t have to face this alone.”
you nod against her, the sobs slowing, the tightness in your chest loosening. for the first time in months, you finally feel like you can breathe.
the morning light filters through the curtains, casting soft beams across the bedroom. the air is calm, the silence between you and giulia comfortable for once, free of the tension you’ve been carrying for weeks. luckily, you guys have the day off from anything football related so you can stay in bed for longer. 
you sit on the edge of the bed, your fingers still trembling slightly, but you’re more at ease than you’ve been in a long time. last night, you opened up to her in ways you didn’t think you could. and though your heart had pounded in your chest and the fear of being judged had nearly consumed you, giulia hadn’t wavered. 
you glance over at her, the way she’s lounging on the bed, her legs propped up under the covers, her eyes half-lidded as she smiles faintly in your direction. 
the bottle of zoloft sits on the nightstand, so small, so innocent-looking. it feels heavier than it should, but the weight is different now. 
it’s no longer just a symbol of everything that’s wrong with you. it’s a step forward. and you’re ready to take it. 
without hesitation, you pick up the bottle, twisting the cap off, feeling giulia’s gaze on you. her eyes are soft, not judgmental, just... waiting. you feel a small sense of reassurance, as if her presence alone is all you need. 
there’s no longer that nagging voice telling you to hide, to keep it to yourself. you can’t change your past, but you can change how you move forward, and you want to move forward, especially with giu. 
you take the pill, the cool surface of the tablet smooth in your fingers, and swallow it down with a sip of water. it’s such a small act, but it feels monumental.
“good morning,” giulia says, her voice light, laced with affection. her eyes soften, and she shifts slightly to make space for you on the bed. 
you settle down next to her, the pillow cool against your skin, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. giulia’s hand brushes your waist, and you lace your fingers around hers. 
“i’m proud of you, you know,” she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. she turns her head to look at you, her eyes warm, filled with love. there’s no judgment, just acceptance. 
you nod, trying not to let the lump in your throat get the best of you. it’s hard to believe sometimes, that she’s always going to be there, in moments like these, it feels real. it feels like you can finally breathe.
“thank you,” you reply softly, feeling a quiet sense of peace settle over you. 
“for being patient. for being so loving my love.”
giulia smiles, the softest smile you’ve ever seen. 
“you’re perfect just the way you are.” 
she brushes a stray lock of hair from your face, her touch gentle. 
life is not easy, and you’re not perfect. you don’t have to be. you have giulia, and that’s enough.
baby steps. it’s enough.
masterlist
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lisbeth-kk · 12 hours ago
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Sherlock fandom.
Lacking Data
Collecting data and seeking insight in everything significant to his work, has always been Sherlock’s highest priority. And he’s been quite successful in his endeavours too. But when it came to personal matters regarding himself and romanticism, he declared defeat. Which he didn’t bother to linger on. Until one day, when he met a man, most people thought of as ordinary, even boring.
Sherlock encountered Mike Stamford one of the last days of January. When Mike asked how he’d been, Sherlock told him he was searching for someone.
“Dead or alive?” Mike asked with a grin.
Sherlock rolled his eyes exasperated.
“I could use a flatmate. Preferably a living one,” he retorted dryly. “But…”
He trailed off, and Mike prompted him to complete the sentence.
“As you know, I’m no easy man to be around. I can’t think of anyone wanting to share quarters with me.”
“Oh, don’t say that, Sherlock. I’m sure there’s someone out there that match your criteria,” the doctor assured him.
Sherlock just scoffed and turned back to the microscope.
***
The experiment proved to be fruitless, so he sent Molly to get him coffee. When the door opened, far too soon for it to be her, Sherlock startled. He was not prepared to see Mike again, but what made the detective almost lose it, was the man Mike brought with him.
Ex-military. Doctor. Psychosomatic limp. Deployed somewhere warm.
Slowly, Sherlock approached Mike’s old friend from medical school, John Watson.
His face was open, trusting. He didn’t hesitate when Sherlock said he needed a phone, which he really didn’t.
“Here. Take mine.”
“Afghanistan or Iraq?”
Sherlock didn’t need to seek insight. All of it was clear as day to him. Served on a silver plate. The phone told him the rest of the story. 
Granted, he’d been wrong about Harry, which John told him about the day after.
“There’s always something,” Sherlock muttered under his breath.
John just looked puzzled, but mostly awestruck. Not one word of mockery, distaste, or anger. Just: Amazing. Extraordinary. Brilliant.
When Sherlock told him what people normally said when he deduced them to shreds, John frowned and clenched his fist, the one not holding his cane.
It seemed like he was ready to punch the people who told Sherlock to piss off.
“Where have you been all my life?” he wanted to ask the remarkable man, but Sherlock was too afraid, so he stayed aloof, playing the sociopath he claimed to be.
***
Despite Angelo’s rather boisterous appearance, Sherlock always felt a calmness fall over him when he was around the man. He wanted to show John off to his Italian friend, and simultaneously letting John see a different side of Sherlock. It was a risk to let his guard down, but if his calculations were correct, the outcome would be glorious.
So, instead of biting John’s head off when he subtlety asked about Sherlock’s romantic preferences, he answered truthfully.
“Yes, John. I am unattached. Just like you.”
Sherlock couldn’t take his eyes off John’s tongue. It wet his lips continuously during the meal, and Sherlock wanted to taste it. The lack of data of how it would feel to kiss John and to be invaded by that rosy piece of flesh, almost drove the great detective mad. 
***
The chase through the city had never been so intoxicating and thrilling. John was right behind him, his cane safely taken care of by Angelo.
“Welcome to London.”
The American passenger in the taxi couldn’t believe the politeness of the British police, and Sherlock felt dizzy just listening to John’s incredulous laughter at the insane encounter.
They were breathless and giddy when they locked the black door of 221 Baker Street behind them.
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done!”
“And you invaded Afghanistan.”
A knock on the door. Sherlock gestured for John to open.
“It’s for you.”
John’s astounded look when he returned with his cane, brought by Angelo, made Sherlock’s stomach do a somersault.
“How?” John said and shook his head in disbelief.
He leant the cane on the wall and approached Sherlock carefully. When he stood toe-to-toe with him, John took a hold of Sherlock’s upper arms.
“You,” he said softly. “Do you even know what you’ve done to me, for me? How am I ever going to repay you, thanking you for letting the sun into my life again? For making me want to live.”
Sherlock just stared down at John, unable to grasp what he meant. He’d done nothing out of the ordinary. Well, to be fair, the idea of visiting Angelo’s had been a whim. Not at all planned beforehand. He was a bit perplexed that something impulsive could make such an impact. 
When Sherlock asked about that, after their fifteenth kiss, John told him he was wrong.
“It wasn’t dinner, Sherlock. I’ve been in that situation lots of times. It was the chase that made me feel alive and useful. Not that dinner wasn’t lovely, because it absolutely was, but it seems that running after you is one of those things I’m suddenly addicted to. Just as that sinful mouth of yours.”
And with that, their sixteenth kiss was a fact.
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sonicfanthenightfury5099 · 2 days ago
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Hello hello!
If it’s not too much to ask, may I please request some fluff/comfort reactions with Thomas, RZ Michael, bubba and whoever else you wanna add?
It would be about the reader going Into their room and ask the boys if they can spend the night with them because they experience real bad panic attacks at night. It sometimes get so bad that the reader fears that they will lose oxygen as they panic. (As someone who experience those regularly, it’s terrifying, so having our favourite big boy’s comfort would be great)
That’s pretty much it! :) hope this is okay❤️ thank you so much if you do get to this request, I love your writing so much!
As someone who also had panic attacks in High School I can see some of the boys spending the night with Reader.
Sorry this took so long to write this, I tried to figure out what write. I juggle alot in my head example I'm currently working on a rough draft of my future Webcomic
Enjoy this
Slashers Spending the night with You
Summary: You ask your boyfriend to send the night so they don't go through a really bad panic attack during the night.
Characters: Michael Myers (OG, RZ, and Peepaw), Jason Voorhees, Thomas Hewitt, Bubba Saywer, Brahms Heelshire, and The Sinclairs Brothers
CW: Cuteness from the boys
Michael Myers RZ
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When you ask him if he can stay home for the night, he gave you one his head tilts
He would usually go out and you stay home, but trying to sleep is hard
You tell him you get really bad Panic attacks at night, which have you scared of not be able to breathe
Alright I'll stay for the night
He seeing people having Panic attacks at Smith's Grove, especially one passing out from a attack
Wrapped in blanket and something warm to drink
A old monster movie playing on the TV as he puts his arm around your waist
Thomas Hewitt
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Automatic Mama bear mode when you tell him you get really bad Panic attacks at night and have a fear of losing Oxygen as they panic
You can hold on to him like a teddy bear
Back rubs
You'll be falling asleep with him holding you close
Vincent Sinclair
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Like Thomas, Mama Bear mode active
Warm blankets wrapped around the both of you in his bedroom
Candles lit to make it comfortable for you
Bo better not cause you to have an Attack
Brahms Heelshire
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Before he showed himself has seen you have attacks at night (Brahms being Brahms) holding on to the doll
He eventually showed himself when you have a really bad episode
One extremely confused about a guy just came into your room, and Two who is he? Is it Brahms? You where told he died a long time ago
"Brahms?" You asked, he nodding as his reply
"Could you stay with me tonight? I need some comfort." You ask. "Yes." He replied in his child voice
He's holding on till the sun comes up
Michael Myers OG
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Much like RZ Michael, your going to get one of his famous head tilts
Michael would just leave you home and when he gets back your still awake waiting for him
So that's why you stay up waiting for me, when you explain him about your Panic attacks at night
Guess he'll wait another night to hunt
He has became your weighted plushie in bed
He fell asleep afterwards
Bo Sinclair
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Don't we sleep in the Same bed darlin?
He was going to check the gas station for a bit
"Is that why you have trouble sleeping?"
How about this, you can wear one of my shirts, I'll go down to the station and we can do anything you want
He comesback and your making popcorn while wearing his grey tee on
Watching a Documentary on the TV on Penguins
You fell asleep after that and he carry you to bed
Bubba Saywer
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Relatable
Blanket Fort in the bedroom with some snacks
Watching a rerun on the TV in the bedroom
I recently watched the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre on the anniversary day
Lester Sinclair
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"Oh my they get that bad?" He said when you told him about your really bad night Panic attacks
He normally doesn't go out at night but sometimes his brother ask him to come to the gas station to help out it
But tonight he can say in and listen to the radio
Snacking on jerky till you fell asleep
Jason Voorhees
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Oh you poor bean
Much like Thomas and Vincent, Mama Bear Mode active
Warm blankets and warm drinks while having a Fire lit in the cabin
Eventually falling asleep next to the fire
Peepaw Michael Myers
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Old man Head tilt
"Please stay in tonight Michael, I dont want to be alone tonight." You said to him
Putting on a old cheese romance movie to ease your nerves
He gags at some of the parts which makes you giggle
His turn, an old monster movie The Fly from 1958
He rubs your back while started to fall asleep
He carried you to the shared bedroom to sleep cause he started to get sleeply too
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squad-724 · 9 hours ago
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Oof I’ve had a couple rough weeks at uni, have padmecker artwork I’ve been slowly working on. It’s an illustration for a short fic of the two of them, a twin piece to @electrikworm ’s fic
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“There.” Padmé sighed as she put down the stylus, a moment ago used to correct the few words of her next speech on the Senatorial Ball she was organizing with Bail and Riyo to warm her colleagues up to the clones. A small tactic to make them look more sentient and humanoid than what they officially were written as in the law. One step closer to the bill that would recognise them as citizens of the Republic.
She straightened up in her seat, her back cracking in a few places, making her wince. No matter how much the chair cost, five hours of no movement will make her body ache. And because of the non-stop debates in the rotunda she had no time to prepare it earlier; the ball was the next day.
Padmé took her time, finishing sipping the cold caf she got delivered back when there was still sunlight, watching the lights of the Planet That Never Slept flicker in the distance. She knew how they looked up close, both on the triple zero and in lower levels she so rarely visited; only going there for her rare dates that she still had to hide from the public. If the media learned about her relationship with a clone, the whole rights bill could be compromised.
Sometimes she didn't care, wishing to be able to take Wrecker to one of the fancy restaurants, let him taste all the amazing foods she could get him, to walk around in broad daylight, visit museums and opera. She wished she could spoil him as much as he deserved.
But it would have to wait. Padmé knew she would make sure he and his brothers could soon walk around as fully free citizens.
“You done?” The senator almost jumped out of her seat as a male voice came from the doors to her office space.
“On the moons Anakin you scared me,” Padmé let out a sigh of relief, and the jedi laughed at her reaction. “What are you still doing here, you were supposed to leave hours ago.”
“Eeeh, I think I should give Rex a little room to breathe. He almost strangled me after I threw him down that hole two days ago.”
“And you don't want to spend the night on observation with Kix.”
“And I don't want to spend the night on observation with Kix, and Rex WILL rat me out in an act of revenge.” He walked over to her balcony doors, grabbing one of the donuts she kept on her desk, her favorite one she kept for last. “I'll sleep at Snip’s new apartment, apparently she got a great deal from the landlady that had a good family history with the Order, and didn't need a down payment. I'll see you at the ball.” He waved her goodbye and jumped down the balcony. Padmé knew he called R2 to come pick him up, just as all the times he decided to have that dramatic of an exit. One day he would fall and break his neck, and that would be karma for stealing the best donuts.
There was nothing more Padmé wanted than to sleep. But she desperately needed to shower, and knew Clone Force 99 was about to enter the Coruscanti atmosphere in a few moments.
She met the squad only a few months back, the four clones called as her escort during a mission. At first she was surprised at the differences from normal troopers, but soon learned about their mutations and special enhancements that were made to them.
Each one of them was unique and interesting, but it was Wrecker who caught her eye, his eyes that kept looking at her with awe when he thought she didn't notice, but also the difference between his pure show of power in opposition of how gentle he was with her.
He had that charm and authenticity that all her previous suitors lacked, speaking his mind and not carefully picking lines of dialogue they practiced before each meeting. He was himself at all times, and who he was was a man of big heart. And Padmé couldn't deny him the beautiful musculature and tanned skin.
And now, after three weeks of a comms-out mission, he and his brothers were coming for a personal debrief with commander Cody, and to crash at her flat for a few days.
She already stocked her fridge with food, readied her three guest rooms with a fresh set of beddings and towels. Yeah maybe she was playing favorites with that, but no one deserved being pampered like these four. Especially Wrecker.
As she waited for the clones to arrive she took a quick shower and brushed her teeth, finally getting rid of the acidic aftertaste of caf on an empty stomach. Once she put on her face mask, she got a ping on her datapad reading “Be there in 5 ;)”.
Padmé got her droid to brew some tea when the doorbell rang out. All of her sleepiness evaporates in an instance when she runs to the door.
She isn't done opening them properly before a massive set of hands hauls her off the floor and into a spinning hug that ends with a keldabe kiss.
“Hi sweetheart,” Padmé breathes out, looking into Wrecker's mismatched eyes. She locks her hands around his neck, pulling him close into a proper kiss. Oh how she missed it.
“Ekhm, we're still in the doorway love doves,” a snarky voice brings them back into reality, Wrecker laughing as he moves deeper into the apartment, letting his brothers in. “Great. I'm taking the bathtub first.” A few voices of protest ring out as Crosshair bolts to the refresher.
“Sorry for the wait, there were some issues with the docking system and they didn’ want to let us down to the planet.” Wrecker finally let Padmé down, putting his bag down soon after.
“Not your fault, I just barely finished my job anyways, didn't have to wait for long.” She stood on her tiptoes to land another kiss on her boyfriend’s scarred cheek, making him blush. No matter how many times she did it, the giant clone got red after signs of any affection.
“Thanks for letting us stay,” Hunter all but collapsed on the couch, cup of freshly brewed tea in hand. He looked a little roughed up, his cheek covered in a fresh dressing, left eye sporting a bruise. “I don't think I could survive another night bunking on the ship with those three idiots.”
Padmé laughed as a choir of three voices raised up with a complaint. She sipped her herbal tea. She had missed this.
Not just Wrecker, but his whole family. How much life they brought to this otherwise empty apartment. The sound of bickering during breakfast preparation, doors opening and closing when they left for the town, repetitive whirring coming from Tech's room, muted music from Crosshair's.
“I am completely exhausted, so I'll be waiting for you in bed. I don't want to smell ANY grease or pickled feet when you join, so take a bath beforehand.” Padmé smooched Wrecker one last time, putting down her cup next to the dishwasher, before she wished the clones goodnight and retreated into her own bedroom.
As much as she complained about the costs of her sheets to Sabé, in moments like these every single credit spent on them seemed worth it. She slipped under the covers, sighing softly as the pain in her back quieted down just a little bit. She had to wake up in the morning for the last dress try on, and then get her hair done before the ball. How lucky she was that a highly experienced squad of troopers was available as her security for the event.
Padmé felt herself fall asleep just as the mattress next to her dipped significantly. Wrecker put his calloused hand on her back, sneaking it under her shirt and drawing slow circles in between her shoulder blades.
“Mmm I really need to sleep my dear, we will have the whole night to ourselves tomorrow.” she murmured into her pillow, relaxing her back under the soft pressure of his palm.
“Then sleep cyar’ika.” The trooper whispered, drawing his thumb up and down her spine, kneading the locked up muscles into relaxation. Padmé knew how firm they must have felt, and let her boyfriend smooth them out as they slowly fell into a rhythm.
“Does anything else hurt?” Padmé could feel his warm breath on her cheek. She could deny it, let him lay down next to her. But, it felt so nice to be taken care of like that.
“Right arm, think I was holding my stylus too tightly.” She didn't even open her eyes as she turned on her side, reaching out the hurting limb.
With a gentleness a man of his frame seemed incapable of, Wrecker took it, moving it to face the palm up, and began massaging it too.
He started with her finger, so delicate and small in the embrace of his giant ones. Each one was delicately pinched in between his pointer finger and thumb, joints muscles and tendons kneaded into relaxation.
Then came the palm, painfully wiry, with the muscles tensed and coiled from the long hours of no rest. Wrecker's fingers carefully massaged them, and Padmé let out a few hisses of pain before these too relaxed into comfy hums as her boyfriend helped her with the pain.
She thought it would be it, but he continued the comforting movements on her forearm, now his actions bringing her more of a relaxing effect rather than purely pain relivement.
Wrecker arms continuously moved his hands up and down her forearm, drawing circles with his thumbs, making her back shiver with pleasure. She didn't even realize how wiry her muscles got until he made them relax, his fingers digging into knots deep into her limb.
“How did you learn to do this?” She murmured, her voice partially muted by the pillow she was laying on. Wrecker’s mismatched eyes didn't leave her arm, but she definitely saw the slight smirk under his nose.
“All of us got some pains a massage helps with. I was the first to need them, my growing pains making my whole body ache until I couldn't move. That's when Tech found some texts on holonet to teach me so I could do them before sleep. Then it turned out that Hunter's migraines can be lessened if you relieve the pressure on the neck,” Wrecker's pressure on Padmé's arm became weaker and weaker, his body slowly sumping to the side. “Tech tends to fall asleep on the pilot seat and next to his workbench, and I deal with his back afterwards.”
The senator gently pulled her boyfriend to lay down, his heavy body hitting the mattress. He didn't say anything, but let out a hum of comfort, wriggling closer to her, wrapping his arms around her much smaller waist. He was very warm, making Padmé shiver.
“Mmm, I'm glad you're here.” she settled her forehead just above his heart, taking comfort in the sound of the beat. Strong, just like him.
“Wish I could stay,” one of his arms moved to the base of her skull, gently scratching her hair bulbs, often sore from the extravagant hairstyles she wore on a daily basis. The hair and dresses, what she was most known for. A beauty of Naboo, queen and senator Amidala whose spirit never yielded. Just like her looks she never did anything halfway, giving her everything into how she presented herself as how she protected the innocents of the Republic.
But there she was, her hair in disarray, wearing an old t-shirt and underwear that has been for sweet release of the trash bin for months, and Wrecker was here, calling her beautiful in the pure darkness, his arms a comforting weight. Here, she was Padmé Naberrie, spending one of her rare moments with a man that found her beauty not in the make-up, dresses or jewelry, but her genuine laugh, lacking cooking skills, and the ability to stand her ground to help him and his brothers become people in the eyes of law.
He would protect her planet, while she secured his future.
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Thank you Manhattan for edits and beta reading!
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sinnabarmoth · 1 day ago
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Trusting You
Pairing: Rafayel x fem|Reader
Summary: Reader is bisexual but hasn't come out to anyone before. She decides that she's going to tell her boyfriend Rafayel first.
Content warnings: None
Length: 1k
~~~
You felt like throwing up. Which probably wasn’t a good sign. Then again, you had felt nauseous the other times you tried to do this. This would make your third attempt at coming out to your boyfriend.
You knew from an early age that you liked boys and a little later on you started to figure out girls were pretty too. Was your first crush on that mermaid princess in your one storybook? Yes. Was there a girl in your primary school that you had developed a crush on and didn’t know how to deal with it so you avoided her at all costs instead? Yes. Have you told anyone that you are bisexual? No.
It wasn’t that you were ashamed of who you were or anything, and you really had nothing to fear living in Linkon and being queer. But the fact remained that you were scared that coming out would change things between you and the people you cared about. You didn’t want things to change. Life was going pretty well. You were doing well at work, you had great friends, and your boyfriend Rafayel was the literal sweetest.
But as time stretched on you felt the weight of your hidden sexuality bearing down on you. So, you had decided that you had enough of living in the closet. You were going to come out and be proud of who you were and to hell with anyone that treated you differently because of it. Out of everyone you thought of telling you decided that you wanted to tell Rafayel first.
It wasn’t because you had found some hot new girlfriend to run off with but you trusted him. Rafayel had never shied away from being supportive of the queer community and had even done a charity auction of some of his exclusive pieces to raise money for trans youth. So you knew you had nothing to fear, but getting the actual words out was proving harder than expected.
You had tried once while over dinner and chickened out. You tried again at the charity auction but again couldn’t say it. Now you were at home with Rafayel, the two of you watching a movie. You weren’t sure why you decided this was when you wanted to try telling him again. Maybe because it was so normal. There was no pressure in this instant.
You kept glancing at him, unable to focus on the screen. It’s was just three little words. “I am bisexual.” That’s all you had to say and it would finally be out there and you wouldn’t have to carry around this secret anymore. At least not around Raf.
Your head was on his shoulder, a blanket draped across your laps. His arm around you was tracing soothing circles across your skin. You focused on the motion, taking even slow breaths to calm yourself.
In and out. In…and out… You could do this. Three little words.
“Raf,” you forced the words out, “Can I tell you something?”
“You know you can tell me anything.” he turned his attention away from the tv. “What is it?”
“I just…I um…” and there your tongue went to lead again.
His brow furrowed as he saw the sentence stuck in your throat. He quickly paused the movie and pulled you closer. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“Yeah. I’m fine, I just…” you took a deep breath and screwed your eyes shut. “I’m bisexual.”
There was silence. Followed by a soft. “Oh.”
“And I’m not saying this for any particular reason! I promise.” your hands fisted the blanket, your eyes still shut tight. “I really do love you and only you but I’ve been wanting to tell you for a long time now but every time I tried I kept getting nervous and not doing it. And I don’t want this to change anything with us. Really I don’t. And if you need a minute to think about this--”
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” Rafayel put a finger to your lips, “Calm down. You’re gonna run out of air talking that fast.”
You peeked your eyes open. “Sorry.”
“No. You don’t need to apologize. I have no problem with you being bisexual, I’m happy that you told me.” he said giving you a reassuring smile. “And I’m sorry if I made you think that you couldn’t come out to me sooner.”
“It isn’t you. I know you wouldn’t have cared it’s just…” you took another breath and gathered your thoughts, “I haven’t told anyone about it. Ever. Not any of my friends or family. I’ve known for years but I always felt weird when I thought of bringing it up.”
“Cause you didn’t want things to change.” He said.
You nodded. “But I’ve been in the closet for so long and I was getting sick of it. And I knew I could trust you to not freak out about it.”
“I get it. I’m proud of you though. And I love you, exactly as you are.” he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “And whether you want to tell others in the future or if this is just between us right now that is fine. We’re gonna go at your pace, but I know everyone else will still love and cherish you no matter who you are capable of falling in love with.”
You melted against him, endorphins rushing through your blood and filling your mind with warmth as you finally truly relaxed for the first time in years. That weight that had been dragging you down for years finally being lifted to let you have this moment of acceptance and peace.
“Thanks.” you whispered. “I really needed to hear that.”
There was a moment of silence as you let yourself calm back down. Then Rafayel chuckled. You looked up at him. “What?”
“I can’t lie, my first reaction when you came out was, ‘Hi bisexual. I’m Rafayel.’” he said with a teasing smile.
You grabbed the pillow and whacked him with a laugh and roll of your eyes. “You are so lucky I love you, you dork.”
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kriss-watches-stuff · 2 days ago
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Then show that instead of a guy doing a spinning, flaming tornado slash! There a plenty of series that show off raw sword skills and abilities that make mundane sword fighting ability look awesome! The only reason to add in all the special effects are:
1) They are actually there (supported IN STORY by having them actually affect the area around them). Because otherwise how did a normal human cut a boulder in half with a mundane sword? Let alone a katana, one of the worst swords to try that with?
2) You have no confidence in your ability to make sword play look cool without slapping on a bunch of stuff. And considering some of these "special moves" are just really basic sword swings this feels pretty likely.
3) Shiny jingle keys because you think the audience needs to be visually distracted.
Honestly, having it actually be powers would have raised fewer questions and allowed for even cooler fights. And it's not special inborn powers it's the result of dedicated training that anyone can do, so you can keep the mes6that anyone can be great if you put in the effort. And that you don't need to be born special to *MC revealed to be part of secret super bloodline which means he can instinctively recreate the ultra lost super special breathing style that nobody else ever has been able to use* oh no wait that's not a message in the series, my bad.
Apparently its a fairly common take that the the breathing styles in Demon Slayer should be actual powers not just a cool visual affect for the audience?????? Like wtf, the fact that its not diegetic and is symbolic is literally the whole reason I got into Demon Slayer.
I thought that was the coolest shit id ever heard. And I stick by this opinion. Its literally the coolest part of the series to me.
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everybody-hit-the-pyro-cue · 4 months ago
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sanchoyo · 2 years ago
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i start that new job tomorrow 😶 ...
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clanoffelidae · 1 year ago
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if the only source of stimulant i ever had access to was coffee i would just choose to deal with the full brunt of my adhd
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imogen-rhitt · 1 day ago
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“It’s fine, I did it to myself, right?” Imogen forced a laugh but there was no joy in it, she didn’t find it even slightly funny actually. The whole thing was stupid levels of painful because feeling like a commodity was probably one of the worst she’d ever experienced. And not in a cute ‘oh my significant other is so proud of me they want to show me off’ way, no this was in more like stocks on a trading floor kind of way, trying to get something out of using her as currency. Status? Not that she had much of that. He arguably had more than her but maybe that was the point? He looked even better for marrying someone so normal, not an actress, still in the public eye but lesser than him. Lesser in more ways than one. “Nothing he can really do apart from ruin my reputation and I’m pretty good at making a mess of things myself anyway so maybe I’ll beat him to it.” She’d spent the last however many months pretending this wasn’t the case, that she was overthinking things, being paranoid, but with a little separation from it she could see it for what it plainly was. Bullshit.
She was rambling that much she knew, and needed to get herself under control a bit. Taking a breath she puffed out her cheeks, slowly blowing out the air as she looked at the ground. The hand on her arm had her looking back up at them, a small nod when they urged her to say what she was struggling to spit out. Imogen looked at them for a beat before managing to blurt out (a little bluntly) … “a place where there might be a chance we could have an outside chance of getting back together at some point because I think the biggest mistake of my life was breaking up with you and I haven’t gone a day since when I haven’t wished I could just to back on it but I thought you were having this great career here and I didn’t want to interrupt it but well would you look at that o managed to interrupt it anyway with my whole family death and shitty engagement and showing up at your flat in the middle of the night like some kind of entitled prick and I understand that maybe it’ll take some time, I need to earn your trust back again, or maybe you don’t even want I and I’ve read things totally wrong but even if you don’t then I still want to be your friend and in your life because I miss you and I love you and I’m so sorry…” she broke out, out of breath thanks to the fact she hadn’t taken a single one the entire duration of that run on sentence. Her face beetroot red as she waited in silence for Theo to say something…anything.
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Imogen looked down at the pack of toothbrushes and that there were...multiple missing, but forced herself not to dwell on that. What - she thought Theo was going to never feel the touch of another human after she broke their heart? For gods sake Imogen get a god damn grip. So she silenced her thoughts and just yanked one of the toothbrushes out of the packet carefully. Turning to look at them as they mentioned making a joke about riding her she broke out into a cheeky grin, because the exact same thought had run through her mind as well. "I almost asked if I was the kind of rollercoaster you'd want to ride, but since it's a been there done that kind of situation I changed my mind." It was silly that saying that made her feel so vulnerable but she was considering asking a huge question of them if she finally managed to get it out her mouth without vomit overtaking. If you want me - the words hung in the air between them as they looked at each other, the red toothbrush forgotten in Imogen's left hand.
"That was kinda uh...yeah that was sort of...hold on let me brush my teeth." She mumbled before squeezing some toothpaste onto the brush, not wanting to stand here gross any longer. Starting to scrub at them she felt the minty flavour fill up her mouth and it was a welcome change from the sour taste she'd had there before. "Yeah...well that was meant to be part of the PR of the engagement, i told you it's basically feeling like a PR stunt at this point." She mumbled through the act of brushing her teeth, words coming out a bit muffled. "That I would do a bridal line next so women who were getting married like me would have somewhere to get their dream dress...or some bullshit like that. I don't know." It was so manufactured if she hadn't just thrown up there was every chance she'd been feeling nauseous over the words that had just come from her mouth. Quickly ducking her head under the tap she rinsed out the toothpaste before standing up again - finally a little more respectable looking. Well...feeling.
"So yeah uh about that thing I was saying in the kitchen." She could feel her hands shaking a little so she reached behind her to take hold of the sink, if she was holding something maybe it wouldn't be as obvious. "And then you just saying before like 'if you'll have me' i don't if you mean...like I don't know how you mean that...but like...could you see a world where maybe ever we could get to a place where we are like...you know..." Fuck, none of these words were coming out right, and she was going all hot and cold at the same time as she offered up erratic half sentences. No idea if she was even making sense. "Fuck...what even are words right? I'm making such a mess of them. Making no sense." @theoxkent
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bunnyb34r · 10 months ago
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Being disabled makes even the most mundane tasks soooo much fun (:
I love having to take 2 hours to change my sheets and not having energy to change them for far longer than I should
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i think i'm getting anemic from my period time and time again. whys it gotta be like this. imagine an organ that's straight up stealing blood from your body‼️
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murobrown · 1 year ago
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#hello friends I just took ventolin and I am having a panic attack and possibly dying#my heart will soon pop up from my chest#and my whole body is shaking and shivering#so I am looking for some way to distract myself and not to hyoerfocus on my bodily functions#it should be a normal side effect but I never experienced it before so I'm freaking out#how are you all doing? i really hope that everyone is happy and healthy and safe#if not I'm sending all the best things your way#like tomorrow will be the best day of your life...i promise... I'm sure you will feel better tomorrow#whatever is worrying you right now will go away and you will be happy#we will all be okay#everything will be okay#I'm not dying#i really don't want to die#I wanted to die for many years and even did some stupid things but now I'm so grateful to be here#i love my life now and I'm so scared that I'll die and lose everything#because usually when you think you're doing great the universe is preparing something disastrous for you#...so thay you don't stay happy for too long#I'm trying to breathe deep but I feel like it makes my chest hurt more#and I'm so scared to sleep because I don't want to die in my sleep i want to have everything under control if I need help#but I'll be okay... I'll get through this it's just nothing#do you guys have any plans for the summer?#do you remember being at school and having two months holiday without any responsibilities#honestly I don't think I miss it...maybe I prefer to work and have just few weeks off#it's just too much free time for me#now I feel like my body is burning#and I feel my neck pulsating#like I feel my heartbeat in my head#my smart watch is saying that everything is in normal numbers but what of they're inaccurate#I'm losing control of my thoughts so back to getting distracted#maybe I'll try to lay down and sleep
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puppyypawsss · 2 months ago
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It’s really fun and really cool when ur mom dismisses ur anxiety and makes u feel stupid and crazy and AAUUUHHVGBHHH.
#I need to move out ASAP but I don’t have a job and my friends and partners live too far and#my mom has been doing this ever since my anxiety got worse because she just looks at me like I’m crazy and comes up with some bullshit#answer like ‘ oh everyone has anxiety “’ SURE YES BUT YOUR CHILD SUFFERS FROM IT EVERY SINGLE DAY ?#like I literally deal with this shit EVERY DAY and she KNOWS that and all she has to say about it is that everyone deals with it every day#okay but does everyone curl into a ball and cry so much that they can’t breathe and their head feels like it’s going to explode because of#a weird symptom/bodily sensation that they have probably dealt with before and been fine#does everyone dissociate on a regular basis because their anxiety is so bad that they need to dissociate to cope#does everyone get depressed from how anxious they are because it’s so debilitating and sometimes I feel like there’s no way out#no !!!!! I don’t think so!!!! so why does she act like my anxiety is fucking normal !!!!! it is not !!!#and then she wonders why I never talk to her (which i do by the way because I love her deep down even if her words are literal deep cuts#and have genuinely scarred me)#that’s the painful part is that i love my mom but I can’t understand why she doesn’t want to grasp the idea that my anxiety may be a little#a LOT worse than normal#she doesn’t think I have an anxiety disorder or autism#so she basically just thinks I’m insane#her neurotypical brain cannot even grasp the idea of her child having neurological problems#because she just wants me to be ‘ normal ‘#guess what mother you gave birth to me I inherited YOUR genes so what’s that telling me about you#I’m so tired#sorry for the long ass vent in the tags I’m suffering a GREAT fucking deal rn#vent tw#anxiety
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pa-pa-plasma · 2 months ago
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so this post is definitely about me lol & i just wanna say that
me only having mental illness is a really big assumption
the experiences i talked about were my own & some friends i'd had while going to an alternate school, they weren't secondhand or made up
idk what is wrong with this person but they are super fucking ableist, & going through their blog, it's clear they love to accuse everyone of faking being disabled or needing accommodation for some reason & are obsessed with interacting in bad faith.
just gonna assume they're constantly having a really bad day every day but man if you're gonna make multiple blogs dedicated to speaking about disabled issues, maybe don't alienate a majority of the community & accuse them of not being "disabled enough" for you to fucking listen to them
#i think when your advocating of one specific group turns into putting down everyone else .you've failed#if you want to be a voice for a community you have to be able to speak coherently about a subject without getting aggressive#& picking fights with anyone who even breathes in your direction#which this person seems to love to do btw holy shit they are super fucked#anyways was just reminded of this dipshit. this screenshot & some other shit they said (like accusing me of thinking disabled ppl are gross#was in response to me saying addiction is a disability & they flipped the fuck out about that#my point was that you can't cater to every single disability all at once. there is going to be some conflict & you have to problem solve#like imagine a person who's super cold & another who's super hot#the person who's cold can keep putting on more layers but the person who's hot can't. so the cold person is gonna have to compromise#& turn the heat down & just put on a jacket or something#OP said that taking medication in public should be normalized & (while that is hyperspecific region-wise) that is true#but also you need to work with other disabled people (like addicts) when making things accessible#because an accessibility option might be great for one person & horrible for another#because when i was at that alt school there were a bunch of kids who were recovering addicts or parents were#& so i was asked to take my medication away from them & i did. because i'm not a fucking asshole#it would be cool if you could take your meds whenever wherever but that just isn't realistic#if you can help someone with trauma or an addiction without negatively impacting yourself then why not#like why would you force someone else to suffer just because you're personally angry about an imaginary slight#if you can't leave or leaving would fuck things up then let them know you take your meds at that time so they can leave beforehand#or if it's an emergency then just fucking take the meds & the other guy can decide what to do with themself#like there is a nuance here that the OP refuses to acknowledge because they don't actually care about disabled people#they only care about themself#like cool advocating. still ableism#anyways if you got this far for blocking reasons the user is disbabeled
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