#and then i woke up with another anxiety attack | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

applepiewinchesters · 5 months ago

Text

Every Universe (Logan Howlett x fem!Reader)

A/N: This was written while I was slightly intoxicated, I regret nothing though and hope you guys enjoy it. It was proofread but I cannot say there will be no grammatical errors. Regardless, please enjoy!! :) Also, takes place in the Deadpool and Wolverine universe.

Word Count: 4,158 (this bitch is long, for me at least)

Warnings: None really unless you count angst and fluff as well as the mention of butt stuff

Finding out that not falling in love with a man being the sole reason you were sent to the void seemed like a pretty patriarchal reason to essentially be damned but who were you to question the TVA.

The day you were sent to the void you’d seen the news, MULTIPLE CASUALTIES AFTER ATTACK AT XAVIER’S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED YOUNGSTERS, names such as Jean Grey, Marie D’Ancanto, Scott Summers, Hank McCoy, and Logan Howlett were read out by the heartbroken looking anchor.

Being a mutant yourself, the news stung and left a pit of anxiety in your stomach. It was an attack by an anti-mutant terrorist group, if they were bold enough to attack the home of Charles Xavier, why not a shopping mall next, or another school full of mutant and non-mutant children alike.

Only minutes after the newscast on the tragedy started four rectangular, orange portals opened in front of and behind you. Four men dressed in odd looking military uniforms stalked towards you. You didn’t even have time to attempt to fend them off before they grabbed you, holding you down while you attempted to break free but even with your mutation, they were too strong.

All you remembered was one of them placing some weird stick against your stomach and you screamed as you essentially dissolved into nothing.

When you woke you were found by who you now knew as Blade, and were told you were in the Void, where you would stay until you died or were killed by a fellow member of said Void.

You’d been there for a what you thought was probably a few years when a couple of Deadpool and Wolverine variants were found by Laura in an absolutely fucked Honda Odyssey. She brought them there and Gambit and Blade brought them inside and laid them down. They appeared as if they’d just had a horrific fight or the most violent sexual encounter ever.

The Wolverine variant was the first to wake up, quite literally shooting up into a sitting position while breathing heavily. His claws extended quickly from his knuckles, and he made an almost animalistic sound.

“Easy there killer,” you almost teased, holding up your hands, you’d been the one unfortunate enough to be closest to him when he woke up, so his eyes immediately fixed on you.

Several emotions seemed to flash across his face at once, his look of anger changing to one of shock. His claws disappeared just as quickly as they’d appeared just moments ago as you slowly put your hands down, now a little concerned for the man.

“Y/N?”, he asked, his head tilting slightly.

It was your turn to look confused, “Did we know each other?”, you asked.

Sure, you’d heard of Wolverine, of Logan, but you’d never met him personally, you had originally been set to attend Charles Xavier’s school when you were 18 but after an attack on the school the same year your parents had decided against it.

The Logan before you’ s face fell slightly; he seemed almost hurt. It took him a second to respond, “I, uh, I guess not.”

That was when Elektra cut in, explaining to Logan where he was and how she’d found him and Deadpool. While he seemed to only half listen, he got up and found the nearest bottle of Gambit’s booze and started drinking it.

When Deadpool woke up it was a completely different side of weird, you hadn’t had the pleasure of coming across a Deadpool variant, but you’d heard how odd they were, and unfortunately for you, you thought they were exaggerating.

After annoying literally everyone in the room, the Deadpool variant all got you to somehow agree to help him and Wolverine get back to the TVA to save his timeline, as well as a sneak attack on Cassandra Nova. The whole time Logan watched you from the corner of his eye.

He couldn’t completely convince himself it was you. The last time he’d seen you, you were lying dead on the front lawn of the school, killed by a large group of humans, along with almost everyone at the mansion. You were covered in blood and cold by the time he’d gotten there. He’d held onto you until the coroner was nearly begging to take you away.

Logan remembered almost everything about you. Your favorite movie, what food you hated, and even the feel of your hand in his. But when you looked at him with little to no recognition in your eyes, his heart could’ve broken all over again.

You had no idea the conflicting feelings he’d had while you sat only a few feet away. You looked practically the same, maybe older than you were when you’d died in his world, he was older too, maybe you just didn’t want to be with an old man and were pretending not to know him. He was the worst Wolverine after all, he wouldn’t blame you.

But then there were some things you did that reminded him of his version of you, the way your laugh sounded exactly the same, how you sat the same way in your chair, and you even made the same face when you’d taken a drink of Gambit’s whiskey as when you’d sip his occasionally while the two of you sat on the couch in the mansion watching some movie one of the others had put on.

It was you, just, one that apparently hadn’t fallen in love with Logan Howlett. Logan himself couldn’t help but wonder if that had been your reason for being sent here, but thought better of it, deciding he'd probably never have that kind of impact on any kind of world.

After a successful attack on Cassandra and her small army, Deadpool and Wolverine were gone, and you hadn’t expected to ever see them again. Then Cassandra almost destroyed every timeline to exist, and you’d thought for sure those two variants had gotten themselves killed.

But then the TVA came for you and brought you to said Deadpool variants world, which he had successfully and somehow saved with Wolverine’s help. You couldn’t help but notice Logan’s shirt missing this time around. Almost cursing yourself for not trying harder to go to Xavier’s school when you were younger, having a chance to meet your world’s Logan. A man’s abs can do that to a woman.

“Happy to not be in the void and all, but why am I here?”, you asked, eyeing the agents around you and taking in the cracked subway station.

“I thought I’d give a little gift to Wolvie here,” Deadpool replied in an overly enthusiastic manner, throwing an arm around Logan who instantly pushed him away.

“I’m not a gift to give you dumb fuck,” you replied, crossing your arms over your chest.

Deadpool ignored your obvious distain and continued, “Well I figured since he lost you in his world and you never falling in love in your world caused his death that you could stay here with us!”.

Your eyes widened and you had to think about what he’d said for a moment, “I-I got him killed? I got Logan and those other mutants killed?”.

Logan couldn’t focus on the other details once his name left your mouth; he hadn’t heard you say that in almost a decade.

You on the other hand turned to the woman beside you that looked to be in charge.

“Is that the reason I was sent there, because I didn’t fall in love with Logan Howlett and he died because of it?”, you asked, you felt like you could be sick.

The woman sighed, almost regretful, “Yes, it was,” she finally answered you. “Without your help of your mutation those mutants did not survive that attack on the school.”

“Oooooo, trauma plot twist,” Deadpool practically squealed.

“Shut the fuck up!”, you snapped back, making Deadpool whisper a bashful, “Sorry,” and take a step back.

The TVA agents left shortly after, and that was how you found yourself living in a small apartment with Wade, Logan, and the craziest old lady you’d ever met, Blind Al.

Wade and she shared a room as weird as it was, you were given the spare room Blind Al reluctantly let you use, as it was now formerly her grow room, and Logan elected to sleep on the couch.

You settled in somewhat nicely, you still felt awkward in a world that wasn’t yours living with a doofus that you'd grown somewhat fond of and a man you got killed in his other life, but you had new friends, ones that didn’t have a huge chance of dying every day so that was a plus.

Yukio and Ellie had gravitated towards you, you were somewhat close in age, with them being early twenties and you in your somewhat late twenties, they reminded you of your younger sibling’s friends from back home in your previous world.

So, when they invited you to go out a month after you settled in, you couldn’t say no, it would get you out of the house at least, you wouldn’t have to sit and listen to Wade and Logan argue or endure Logan’s kicked puppy look when he thought you weren’t looking.

You felt awful you weren’t the you he thought you were, and you knew it was nothing you could control but after Wade let it slip what had happened to you in Logan’s world you couldn’t imagine how you’d feel if the roles were reversed.

So, to hopefully be able to forget about everything for a few hours you got ready, doing some easy makeup and hair, you put on a cute outfit you’d bought earlier in the week, Yukio had begged you to go shopping after finding out you didn’t own anything for “going out” yet on this world.

You relented and picked out a skirt, top, tights, and boots, it was simple yet cute enough to not be mistaken as any old outfit.

When you’d exited your bedroom in your shared apartment shortly before Yukio and Ellie were due to come get you, Wade looked up from whatever the hell he was doing on his phone, which could be anything from porn to angry birds.

His eyes widened slightly, “Got a date?”, he asked, only slightly feigning shock.

Logan had looked up immediately at the mention of a date, he was sipping a bottle of whiskey at the kitchen table. His eyes traveled over your outfit when he thought you were busy glaring at Wade.

“Not that its your business merc but no, I’m going out with Yukio and Ellie,” you stated, tossing a lip balm you had in your hand to your small purse.

“Girls nightttt,” Wade sang, only making you sigh.

As if a divine intervention interrupted there was a knock on the door and when you opened it you found the two girls standing there waiting.

“Hi Wade!”, Yukio exclaimed waving at him.

Wade leaned back in his seat to look around you at Yukio, “Hi Yukio!”.

“Come on,” you told them, moving to leave but a hand on your shoulder made you turn around. It was Wade.

“Now honey,” he began, “don’t take drinks from strangers, don’t go off alone, and don’t hook up with anyone. You know what they say about beer goggles, you’ll be waking up next to the crypt keeper.”

While you rolled your eyes and pushed Wade’s hand off your shoulder although you knew he really did care. Logan on the other hand clenched his jaw. You weren’t his and he knew that, but Wade’s last comment set his teeth on edge.

“I’m a big girl Wade, but thanks,” you told him, turning around and leaving this time without so much as a glimpse Logan’s way.

When the door shut Wade spoke again, “She’s gonna get picked up by every hottie in the club in that outfit. Did you see her legs Peanut?”.

Wade then almost immediately flinched when he felt glass shatter on the back of his head, the alcohol in the now broken bottle staining the back of his My Little Pony shirt.

He didn’t even have to look back to imagine the look on Logan’s face, “Gotcha,” was all Wade replied, picking out a rather large glass shard from the back of his neck.

…

It was hours later when you were so drunk you couldn’t feel the cold outside, but you sure felt good on the inside. The only bad thing was that the other girls wanted to go to another club, and your social battery was just about gone.

You three stumbled out of the club, Yukio and you giggled at something Ellie had yelled at some perv leering at you when you’d walked out. Stopping the other two from turning the opposite way to another club, you spoke rather loudly despite being out of the crowd and loud music.

“I-I think I’m gonna go home! You girls go!” you told them, making Yukio frown.

“Don’t walk home by yourself, call Wade or something,” Ellie commented.

You nodded thoughtfully before gasping, “I’ll call Logan, Wade is doing butt stuff with Vanessa tonight!”.

Your loud comment sent Yukio into a giggling fit and made a guy near you wince, maybe he’d done butt stuff too.

Ellie only nodded, rolling her eyes as you pulled your phone from your purse, scrolling through the very few numbers you’d had, Wade had gotten both you and Logan phones soon after arriving, claiming he needed to be able to send you both funny videos every day. Which were no doubt ignored by Logan.

Pressing on Logan’s contact, you put the phone up to your ear, listening to it ring only once before the call was answered.

“You alright?”, was the first thing out of Logan’s mouth and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“Oh, I’m great!” you replied, “but Ellie doesn’t want me walking home alone and Wade is doing butt stuff so will you come? I’m only a few blocks from home.”

The whole sentence was sort of rushed and you thought maybe Logan hadn’t heard you correctly because the line went silent.

You were about to repeat yourself when Logan stopped you, “I’m coming,” he told you, you could hear him shuffling around and the sound of a door closing, “What’s the name?”.

Despite having been in the club for well over an hour you had to look up and squint at then brightly lit sign, “Uhhhh,” you mumbled into to the phone, before your eyes finally focused, “House of Yes!”.

You could’ve sworn Logan chuckled, “Be there soon,” was all he said before hanging up.

“Escort secured,” you told the two girls, slipping your phone back into your purse. “He’ll be here soon,” you added, attempting to replicate his gravely tone, only succeeding in making yourself cough and sending Yukio into a laughing fit.

It was only 15 minutes of standing around before Logan showed up, you spotted him first, having turned yourself that way to look for him. He was dressed in his usual jeans, button up, and undershirt, along with a leather jacket he’d picked up recently.

He looked good you had to admit, nearly every girl outside, and even some guys turned to look at him when he walked past. He didn’t give them any sort of acknowledgement though, earning some disappointed looks from a few of them when he walked up to you.

What was it Wade said about beer goggles? Logan was hot without alcohol though, so you shook off the thought.

“Ready to go?”, he asked, eyes scanning over you, not to be a perv but to make sure everything was the same as when you left, and it was, save for the way you swayed slightly and the way you smiled at him like you were so happy to see him. He thought he’d never see that again, but he has to remind himself for what felt like that hundredth time that it wasn’t you, not his you at least.

You nodded, turning around to hug both of the girls, telling them to be safe, although you knew Ellie wouldn’t put up with anyone’s shit.

“Bye Y/N! Bye Logan!”, Yukio exclaimed, waving at you both before grabbing Ellie’s hand as they turned the opposite way.

“Alright, come on,” Logan said, taking a step away from you and waiting for you to follow him to keep walking, he made sure to keep you closest to the buildings, it wouldn’t be too great to have you fall in the street in front of a car.

It was silent for a couple minutes, you stumbled every so often and Logan’s hand always shot out, ready to catch you, but you always righted yourself, giggling as you did, and Logan found himself smiling at the sound.

You caught him smiling after a couple times, narrowing your eyes, “What’re you smiling at grumpy?”, you asked, voice anything but angry.

“Grumpy?”, he asked, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, it’s what I call you sometimes in my head, Mr. Grumpy is also a good one,” you told him in a very serious tone.

“Mr. Grumpy,” Logan found himself repeating, only making you laugh, which made you stumble, nearly knocking into someone walking the opposite way of you both. Logan instinctively wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you away from the almost collision and into his side.

You immediately noticed he was warm, you could feel it even with his multiple layers on, it was growing colder now outside as the days went on and you yourself knew without the alcohol, you’d probably be cold but here he was, a personal heater.

“Are you actually just a werewolf?” you asked him, making him stop walking completely and turn towards you, removing his arm from your shoulders, making you pout a bit.

“I am not a werewolf,” he told you seriously.

You groaned, “Okay but you’re really warm, you have claws, you can run on all fours, and you’ve got those little…,” you trailed off, putting your pointer fingers up on each side of your head, attempting to mimic the little swishes his hair made.

Personally, you had no idea if his hair just did that (because he’s a werewolf), or if he styled it that way. You couldn’t decide which option to like more.

When Logan didn’t seem to understand what you’d said, you reached up, lightly running a finger along one of the swoops of his hair. You jumped a bit when his hand caught your wrist as you were pulling your hand back.

There was a look in his eyes you didn’t recognize but it soon disappeared as he let you go, “Sorry,” he quickly said. “Reflex.”

You shrugged, “No harm done,” you told him, and his eyes softened at the way you brushed off his behavior from years of enduring nothing even remotely close to the gentle way you’d just touched him.

Maybe you didn’t think so badly of him. You always seemed so wary, afraid to make him angry, to say something wrong, like he was a ticking time bomb. It put him on edge and made him want to steer clear of you, he didn’t want to scare you off either. But now, standing there staring at you while you just smiled at him made him relax a bit.

“Let’s go,” you suddenly said, beginning to walk away from him. He was back at your side in moments, and you found yourself bumping into him every so often, apologizing every time you did.

Finally, he wrapped an arm around you again, pulling you back into the warmth of his side. You smiled when he did, stumbling slightly but he held you up easily, not letting you fall.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” you told him when you were only a block from home.

“No problem,” he replied, keeping his eyes on the sidewalk ahead.

There were a few moments of silence before you began to giggle suddenly, Logan’s brow furrowed as he looked down at you, “What?” he asked, hopefully not regretting asking.

“So, you’re not a werewolf?” you asked, looking up at him.

Logan groaned looking away from you, “No, and if you keep asking, you’ll regret it.”

“Ooo what are you gonna do?” you mocked, poking his side.

“Wouldn’t you like to know sweetheart,” he replied, making you stumble at the nickname.

“I would,” you challenged, after righting yourself with the help of Logan’s arm around you.

Logan regarded you for a moment before shaking his head, “You’re drunk, another time.”

“Ughhhhh,” you groaned, “Tell me!”.

“Not a chance,” Logan replied, smirking a bit. He’d been drinking since you left and was buzzed himself, he couldn’t help but smile at your behavior.

The you he’d known had always acted like this, at least when intoxicated. You were whiny, clumsy, and clingy. The way your fingers gripped the back of his jacket to stay up right made his heart ache though and his smile fell.

You noticed his attitude change and became concerned, “You okay?” you asked, attempting to stop walking, but Logan kept you going.

“Fine” he replied, his hold on you loosening slightly, you couldn’t help but notice.

So, you stopped, much to Logan’s dismay, moving to stand in front of him, swaying slightly as you very determinedly looked him in the eye.

“What’s wrong, did I do something?” you asked, genuine concern in your voice, he could almost feel his heart crack just slightly.

“No, it’s…,” Logan began, his tongue getting tied, he was never great at emotions, that’s why he drank so much. You didn’t have to feel anything then.

“I’m listening,” you reassured, resisting the urge to take his hand.

“You’re so much like…like her, like you,” Logan finally said, not really meeting your eye. “I thought I could ignore it, but I can’t, you even smell the same.”

Logan had rendered you with nothing to say, could you truly comfort him? Reassure him? You felt yourself sobering up a bit at the thought.

It was a few moments of silence before you found your words, “I know this has been shitty for you too, and I'm sorry I haven't been a better friend. Honestly sometimes I think you hate the fact that I'm not her, me her, whatever...that you hate me. But then you do things like this and it makes me think otherwise. I guess I just don't know how to...approach you, Logan."

Logan felt his heart drop at the word “friend”, and the thought he made you feel inadequate. God he really was stupid enough to think he might have a chance with this version of you.

But he found himself lifting a hand to your cheek, feeling your skin heat up beneath his fingers, “I could never hate you, not in this universe, not in any, got it? Its my fault, for pushing that onto you, making you feel like you have to be someone you’re not.”

You couldn’t help but laugh slightly, “We’re both just fucked up in our own special way, aren’t we?”.

Logan nodded, dropping his hand, but you caught it in your own, “It’s not your fault either you know, I personally blame whatever bitchass overlord of the universe did this.”

Logan had to keep himself from solely focusing on the way your hand wrapped around his, “But…,” he went to argue.

You put up a hand to stop him, “Enough with the self-pity Howlett, its unbecoming of a man of your nature.”

“My nature?” Logan asked, titling his head at you.

“Yes, the nature of being absurdly attractive,” you admitted, looking away from him as you spoke, attempting to walk away, but he pulled you back, almost into his chest, but he kept you a few inches away, still concerned with scaring you.

“Absurdly?” Logan asked, the smirk returning to his face.

You swallowed hard, “Did I say that? I meant unappealing, completely unsightly.”

Your attempt at saving your future sober self from your drunk self was failing miserably, but Logan gave in after a few seconds, shrugging as he turned, placing his arm around you once more, guiding you towards the apartment building you could finally see in the distance.

“Whatever you say kid,” he told you.

This was the most at home you two had felt in a while, and when you sat next to each other at breakfast in the morning, Logan passing you whatever you needed when you’d asked, Wade gasped dramatically.

“Did you two also engage in butt stuff last night, or is that not your cup of whiskey Wolvie?” Wade asked.

This earned him a fork to the forehead, easily tossed across the table by Logan.

The way you laughed made Logan’s heart skip a beat instead of crack again. For the first time in quite a while he felt hope, and if being here with you meant putting up with Wade’s dumbass mouth, he could make an exception just this once.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! I felt like Tumblr was seriously lacking in Logan fluff so here ya go!

#logan howlett #james logan howlett #deadpool #wade wilson #deadpool and wolverine #logan howlett x reader #xmen #logan howlett x you #logan howlett fanfiction #hugh jackman #logan howlett x fem!reader #logan howlett imagine #logan howlett fluff

878 notes · View notes

i2sunric · 1 month ago

Text

𝗟𝗢𝗢𝗞 𝗔𝗙𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝗬𝗢𝗨 (p.sh)

PAIRING: sunghoon x reader (f)

SUMMARY: in the depth of the night, when the bad dreams try to drown you, sunghoon is always there to pull you from the tide.

WARNING: established relationships, mentions of a fight, nightmares, mentions of an anxiety attack, fluff, comfort, lmk if more. NOT PROOFREAD.

PUBLISHED: 28th November 2024

WC: 1k

TAGLIST: (permanent) @stolasisyourparent @jaeyunsbimbo @jwnghyuns @bangtancultsposts @shawnyle @jooniesbears-blog @skzenhalove @ro-diaries @onlyhyunjin @xcosmi @strawberrhypen @jakeflvrz @astratlantis @tunafishyfishylike @branchrkive @insommni4 @kirinaa08 @leiclerc @nxzz-skz @laurradoesloveu @beomluvrr @heeshlove @17ericas @riribelle @senascoooop @mitmit01

a/n: i just wrote this for myself and thought i’d share lol. i need someone like this ngl

The fight was stupid, like most of your fights with Sunghoon. A misunderstanding that snowballed into frustration and sharp words. You couldn’t even remember what had caused it, you just know that the both of you had gone to bed angry. With unspoke and built up frustration.

Now, hours later, the room was dark and quiet, save for the occasional rustle of sheets and the soft hum of the air conditioning.

Sunghoon lay on his side of the bed, his back facing you. He had barely looked at you as he climbed into bed, his jaw tight, his arms crossed before he pulled the blanket over himself. He hadn’t said goodnight, and you hadn’t, either.

Minutes transformed into hours before you managed to close your eyes and drift off to sleep.

It wasn’t long before the nightmares found you.

You didn’t remember how it started, only the suffocating sense of fear that wrapped around you like a vice.

They were almost a routine, but usually they were just work or university related.

Though, when you were stressed, those nightmares took the forms of your worst fears. Plane crashes, other tragedies that you couldn’t stop, the ocean.

You woke up to one, but fortunately, you were able to fall back to sleep a little later. It wasn’t that bad.

Not until another one found you, darker and creepier than the previous one. It made your heart pound, your breath uneven as anxiety pricked your skin.

You woke with a gasp, your chest heaving, the sheets damp with sweat. The room was still dark, save for the faint moonlight filtering through the curtains, and the shadows in the corners of the room suddenly felt alive.

Your hands trembled as you pulled the blanket closer, pressing your face into your knees to muffle the sobs that threatened to spill out. You couldn’t wake Sunghoon. Not tonight. Not after the fight.

But the harder you tried to stay quiet, the harder it became to hold back the tears.

He knew all about how troubled you were after your nightmares. Because in all efficiency, you loved sleeping. You loved the feeling of the warm sheets hugging your skin, the smell of fresh and safe.

Sunghoon had shifted through the night, he was wearing a sleeveless white shirt, the sheets covering until his stomach.

When he heard the muffled sound of your sobs, his brows furrowed, his heart squeezing in his chest.

“Y/n?” His voice was groggy but tinged with concern.

You froze, cursing yourself for not being quieter. You didn’t answer, hoping he’d think he imagined it and go back to sleep.

But then you felt the bed shift as he rolled over, the weight of his gaze heavy even in the dark.

“Are you crying?”

You shook your head quickly, your voice breaking as you croaked, “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine.” His voice softened, and a moment later, you felt his hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you back so he could see your face. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s nothing,” you whispered, wiping at your cheeks. “Just a bad dream.”

His jaw clenched, guilt flickering in his eyes as he noticed how your shoulders trembled. You were clearly shaken, your breaths uneven, and he hated that you were going through yet another panic.

Sunghoon sighed, sitting up and running a hand through his messy hair. The loose fabric of his sleeveless shirt shifted as he leaned closer, his arm brushing against yours. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

You hesitated, your voice small. “I didn’t want to bother you. You were already mad at me.”

His heart sank at your words. He could be stubborn, but hearing the tremor in your voice made him realize how much he’d let his pride get in the way.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “I shouldn’t have gone to bed angry, we promised not to do it..”

You shook your head, biting your lip. “It wasn’t just you. I was being stubborn too.”

He sighed, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he pulled you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. You hesitated but quickly melted into his warmth, the scent of him — clean and familiar — grounding you.

“You should have woken me up,” he said again, his tone gentle but firm. “I don’t care if we fight, I’d never want you to deal with this alone.”

Your tears spilled over again, this time not from fear but from the overwhelming comfort of his words. Sunghoon held you tighter, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your arm.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked after a while, his voice low.

You shook your head, burying your face in his chest. “No. I just… I don’t want to think about it anymore.”

“Ok,” he whispered. “Then we won’t.”

He shifted, lying back against the pillows and pulling you with him so your head rested against his shoulder. His other hand reached for yours, threading your fingers together.

He used the other one to gently caress your back, tracing different soothing patterns.

For a while, neither of you spoke, the silence between you no longer heavy with tension but filled with unspoken understanding.

Sunghoon tilted his head to press a kiss to your temple, his voice a soft murmur. “I’m here, okay? I’m not going anywhere.”

You nodded, your grip on his hand tightening as your breathing finally evened out.

Safe in his arms, the shadows of your nightmare faded, replaced by the steady beat of his heart against your ear.

“I love you.” you whispered gently, and Sunghoon tightened his grip on you “I love you too, baby.”

And as you finally drifted back to sleep, you heard a faint “I’ll always protect you.”

515 notes · View notes

moonieandi · 5 months ago

Text

snapshots pt. 2 | stanley pines x f!reader

summary: a quick look through concerning the early months of your life “married” to stanley pines, particularly centered around moments in the car

warnings (TW): swearing, illegal activities (of course), descriptions of panic/panic attack or general anxiety, alcohol consumption

tags: fluff, early relationship described, pining, very slight angst, affection

notes: i mean, i liked writing part one? so … i’m just gonna keep writing? do what brings you joy and all that jazz. alsooooo im currently unemployed and have too much time on my hands. any feedback is appreciated, seeing as this is the first (second) time i’m publishing online !

edit 8/27/24: hello! below i have linked my new masterlist that contains updated parts to this series, thank you and hope you enjoy!

word count: 3.7k

| masterlist | part iii |

When you reside within the same place as another, you begin to notice particular behaviors. Of course, Stanley had resided in an unquantifiable number of places in the last decade, but he had forgotten what it was like to live alongside someone.

Forgot about the consideration of messes and manners, and forgot about his socks in corners and cans on bedside tables. These were things he never had to consider when he was confined to a single room and a shared bunk with his brother, but she was different.

The first couple months he found himself stumbling around her at times. Let her lead through doorways, ask her what she would like for dinner, using odds and ends as a coaster here and there.

But she was much the same in that way.

She hadn’t ever had to share her space like this, much less with a man. She fumbled with answers concerning dinner, forgot her delicates in the washer routinely, and had a habit of throwing her feet up on Stanley’s chair when he sat across from her at their poor excuse of a dinner table.

But this was months ago.

No, they both had noticed these intricacies about the other and had more or less adapted around them. Laundry was done half-heartedly, a quick combination of their socks and delicates. A calendar made its home on the fridge with scribbles of dinner plans, and her feet were shuffled onto his lap every night, adjusted to fit across his hips.

But she still leads through most doorways. He would never admit to why.

There were other, smaller things too. These things made him ache somewhere behind his sternum, and he usually shook them off.

Small things like how she curled at her end of the couch, or how she brought her face to any page she was scribbling on, always squinting. How she tidied the living room every morning like they would be having guests. How she came to the kitchen every morning, hand outstretched for the mug he had deemed hers.

He decided to forget about these things. At least some of them that is.

He knew for a fact that she loved it when he drove the most. She enjoyed the movement of the trees out the window, enjoyed stretching her feet up to his dash (despite his initial protest), and she loved the radio in particular.

Common law says to keep your eyes on the road, and both hands on the wheel. But it was very hard to conduct when she leaned forward towards the radio, singing under her breath. She was so relaxed here beside him on the long bench in the front of his long-loved car.

The car had been through hell and back, but he was sure it’d never encountered anything as enchanting as her bellowing singing. It would ring through the car, only ever on the way home, and only ever after a bar visit. The buzz would stray his eyes from wheel and headlights to her, head thrown back singing.

He swerved on the road more than he cared to admit when she was in the car. The reminder of her safety usually woke him up from his fantasies of her with her head thrown back, with her hair spilling around her, and a flush on her cheeks.

But he rarely kept both hands on the wheel, to begin with anyway. His right arm always flung behind, scrunched on the back part of her seat, itching to find the soft back of her neck.

Clearing his throat, he adjusted himself in his seat, both hands returning to the wheel. A smile never leaving his face, a laugh rising as she scooted closer, incoherent 70’s BABBA lyrics sung into his right ear.

He’d admit he likes driving her, in particular, around.

They had made for town for a handful of differing supplies that day.

Stanley, Stan, had a bright idea to earn some seasonal money by making the front half of the shack into a tourist attraction. After an explanation of his initial encounter with a group of town folk upon his first couple days in the shack, she had nodded along in agreement.

They needed money, and the need was only growing of course.

She was the farthest from a financial advisor, but she knew the reserve of money she had come to town with was dwindling, and with them both diving head-first into Ford’s basement business, the idea of money had seemed trivial, at least to her, those first couple months.

She knew though that money wasn’t a trivial thing for Stan (Stanley). That he hadn’t had a successful last decade, and that her life strayed from his own background astronomically.

That was one thing that grated her slightly. How flippantly he spoke of Ford to her, but how he had not shared himself as willingly. It didn’t make him a liar to withhold said information, but the state of Stanley’s (Stan’s) car backseat that first month spoke of a man on the run.

But he had lit up so differently when he dragged her to the front of the shack's cluttered room. Explaining where things would go, a cash register, a display case, and certain merchandise. She’ll admit to perhaps not completely listening to him at the time, but later she would look back and reflect on how he was unsurprisingly a great salesman.

He had been so happy, dragging her from corner to corner, painting pictures with words, but he had looked too enchanting for her to really hear it. One hand in his pocket, the other gesturing, and a smile upon his handsome figure. He had reached back out, dragging her back to the front door, hand on the small of her back as he ushered her around.

It was a dump up here, truly. The one place in the house she hadn’t gotten to scouring for clues yet. She was unsure as to why she left the room untouched at the moment, but she thinks it had a lot to do with the panicked memory of meeting Stan (Stanley), and how the glow of the backroom reflected on his face made her wander in through the front door like a madwoman.

She made for the car very soon after his explanation, eager to get the supplies he would need to renovate the front of the room. He had beaten her of course, opening and closing the passenger door without so much as a prompt, and making his way to the driver's side.

The drive into town had been great as always. It was one of those mid-spring days. Wet on the windshield and crisp until 10 a.m. The hardware store served its purpose, as they wandered from aisle to aisle, looking for particular wood stains and sandpaper.

“Here it is Stanl-” He had come up behind her abruptly. Hand coming up to her mouth, stopping her sentence, flicking his eyes up and down the aisle.

She turned to face him, an apology already on her lips. But he was already looking down at her, a hidden heat behind his eyes.

“What did I tell ya, hun?” He whispered it in the space between them. “I told ya, I can’t be that here.”

He couldn’t be him anywhere anymore, at least not in the light of day. She had tried to shake the old him, but somewhere in the far reaches of her mind, she had a hard time calling him Stan.

Because she knew it meant he was being Ford, not Lee. And it was hard to lie about anything concerning him, concerning Stanley.

He sighed, his hand leaving her lips and running through his long hair. “We gotta get outta here anyways. Come along, hun.” A practiced smile reached the corners of his mouth, another lie.

Unfortunately for his psyche, the cashier wanted to talk their ear off also.

“Oh hiya, Stanford!” And of course, they knew his brother.

A smile crawled up his face anyway, making nice like he figured his brother may have done all those months ago.

“Getting supplies? Any new projects?”

“Uh nah nah, not at the moment. Looking into renovating parts of the shack for some business right now.”

“Business? Really? Never took you for much of a businessman.” The cashier continued to bag their samplings of wood stains. “But hey, life takes ya in odd directions sometimes!”

He tisked. “Don’t I know it buddy.” He shook his head a little, grabbing the bag, peering over his shoulder checking for his smaller shadow. She followed in his wake, slightly downtrodden to have cut their store visit short with her stupid mouth.

“Oh, Stanford!” The cashier called, but he didn’t turn until she reached for his jacket’s dirty red sleeve, tugging to turn him back. Flushed, he meets the cashier's outstretched hand.

“The receipt! You always want the receipt.”

He crushed the receipt in his hand. “Right… right ya, thanks.”

She followed him back to the car, her hand never leaving his sleeve, brushing her warmth against his slightly shaking palm. He doesn’t forget to open her door or to slam the wood stains and sandpaper into the back of the car.

The ride back was tense, and not of its usual bravado and fanfare. He had peeled out of the parking lot all too quickly and regretted it the next moment as he looked over and watched her pale in the passenger seat.

She didn’t reach for the radio, hands folded on her lap. She didn’t look out her window, as the trees blurred differently under Stanley’s hasty speed.

Under Stan’s hasty speed.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t want any of this mess. And he definitely didn’t want to upset her. His arm never met the back of her seat, his knuckles tight around the steering wheel.

He didn’t think of pulling over until he looked at her halfway home. Ram-rod straight, pale as all hell, and eyes blurry with undescribed grief.

He cursed under his breath, pulling the car off to the side of the road, gravel underfoot.

She got like this at times, at his temper. He knew at times he could be loud, that he raised his voice at inconveniences and the T.V. Knew that her lip curled in a particular way when on a very off day, his frustration explodes in her face. He was quick to anger at times, and she was quick to cover.

He made himself so big in the face of things, but she folded into a different shape when he did. And somewhere in the back of his mind, he prayed she knew that he would never turn his anger to her. That he had raised fists before and spilled blood, but he’d never raise them again unless it was for her, if she would allow it.

But he doesn't want her to get small in the face of his, well, everything. Because he had been angry at so many things in succession in his life he lost count, and he doesn’t want to lose the part of himself that cared for her in his anger, and he doesn't want her to fold into odd shapes and shadows in the face of him anymore. But above all, he didn’t want the reminder of his father to taint whatever the hell this was. It was bad enough he saw glimpses of him in the passing reflections from time to time.

He loved the fight in her eyes when they spat back and forth sometimes, a sarcastic, fake fight brewing between them. That’s how they both always ended up laughing at the dinner table most nights, and how he felt closer to her most days. His anger was never her responsibility, or her doing. She had never truly upset him once, and the way they played with words back and forth over a meal like an old married couple rattled a few rusty cogs in his brain from time to time. That his anger could at least be amusing, because when she smiled he forgot all about it anyway.

So he parks the car in Spring and turns to her with his guts in his lap for the first time since he spoke to her that Winter night when he thought his prayers had been answered when she plowed through the shack’s door like a tidal wave.

“I hate this.” He sighed. “And I can’t stand when you fucking look at me like that.”

Her lip curled. Fuck fuck fuck.

“I know.” It wobbled out her mouth. “I ruined the day, I’m sorry.”

He leans back, his hand meeting the back of her seat. A beat, before he turns to her completely, like he does every night across the dinner table with her feet propped across the entirety of his lap.

“I don’t want you to apologize to me. You should never have to apologize to me. I don’t want you to, ever fucking think you gotta hand that over to me again. Because you’ve never done anything to upset me doll, not ever.”

She sniffles, a moment of crisp silence. Spring rain beats on the windows in a mist. A smile comes to her lips, and he sags in relief, anger fading.

“Except when I forget the laundry on the line.” She’s cracking jokes now?

“Except that ya, because I kinda need socks and underwear mmk?” He laughs only slightly, a tiredness seeping into his posture.

“I didn’t used to be like this.”

“Like what?”

“A bad liar.” He admits. He hadn’t disclosed much of his past to her. He wasn’t ashamed of it much when it came to disclosing his long resume to others, but she made him nervous. And he hadn’t been really, truly, honestly nervous in a long time. So he did what he does best, and he lied.

“I could buy the shirt off your back from ya in under 10 minutes I swear.” He readjusts in his seat again, hand slowly creeping up the back of her seat still. “I’m a great liar, it’s how I made it from state to state, and the reason I’m not allowed back in Pennsylvania.”

She laughs truly now. She had figured that was what he was used to. Long trips and longer fibs. She didn’t care much about the morality of it, because when she imagined him somehow corrupt in her mind's eye she remembered him bent over her on the couch, and how it felt to listen to the T.V. fade into the background as he carried her up the stairs. The faintness of her sheets, and the brush of his hand on her hairline.

“But I can’t lie about this, or at least I'm really fucking bad at it.” He interrupts her thought. “I’m the farthest thing from Stanford Pines.”

“Perhaps you are, Lee.” A name she hadn’t used out loud fell between them. “But no one ever asked you to be him.”

She realized quickly in her desperation to reassure him that she was also being a hypocrite. It was hard to call him Stan, she realized, but only because she was afraid of hurting him. The memory of Stanford still lived between them, and although they tried to shutter his existence in the basement they both weren’t very good at playing pretend yet.

But they would need to be. It’d need to be the best con he’d ever pulled, that they had ever pulled. He just wasn’t used to having a partner quite yet. But they needed to be honest now if they were gonna pull it off and bring Stanford home.

“You don’t need to be him. I know you aren’t him Stanley, and I don’t want you to be.” She paused, considering. “If we are going to do all this though, we need to work together. I-I need to get better, I need to call you Stan, and you need to believe me when I tell you I’m staying for the long haul.”

He sighs again, readjusting to look over at her.

“I lived a long time trying to be something great like I thought he was, like I know he is. But I haven’t, I hadn’t, seen him in so long. I don’t know who he is anymore.”

“You both have a surprising lot in common, actually.” She shrugs, a smile coming to her lips in memory. “You both smile the same, and you both doodle the same way, and you both tilt your head to the left when I ask a dumbass question.”

He laughs at this, a memory of passing scribbles and doodles in class back and forth, and the comic books he would spend all night drawing in their shared room’s lamplight. Some things always stick, at least.

She bridged the gap of some odd ten years, and he could at least be thankful about that.

“I just want you to know… Stan. That when I do call you Stan, I mean Stanley- not Stanford.” She shrugs again, nervous. “Because you’re not him, you're right, and if you don’t want me to lie about this one small detail, it can be between us.”

She had somehow come to the heart of his predicament without much digging. He had worn many hats in his time bouncing from state to state, a conman, a businessman, a thief, and a liar. But he didn’t wanna make her one of those things, and he knew by associating with him she would need to be. Just in the blur of it all, he didn't want to be someone else to her. Not even in name. He wanted there to be honesty between them because otherwise, it wouldn't work. What wouldn’t work?

He finds resolution in her answer. That he will always be Stanley to her, and Stanford to others, at least for the time being. Oddly intimate, closely personal. He wouldn't linger on the thought.

“You’re right as usual, doll.” A smirk comes to his lips. “Team?” He questions, fist uncurling from the back of her seat, brushing between them to meet for a bump.

She smiles brightly now, meeting him in the middle. “Team.”

He sinks in the seat, beat from the emotions of the last hour already. “Okay we need to do something fucking fun now.”

“Like what?” Amused, she reaches between them to turn the radio back on, sick of the silence in the shell of the car. A hum already on her lips.

He smiles, a scheme on his lips, a memory playing in his head when he looks at her.

She flushes, a quick shake of her head. “No, no, no Stan, no I am not doing it no.”

He loves how she fights it but he knows how to get his way with her already, even if it has only been a short six months. Flushed in her seat, and begging him. Fuck.

All he has to do is fucking smile, with that stupid glint in his eyes. “Yes, ya are!” He taunts, a laugh already bellowing. “You’re driving!”

“I don’t fucking know how and you know it!” She had been embarrassed to admit it to him that one night, that she had made it this long without a driver’s license, but he had all but said please that night, vying for blackmail from her. He had told her about his kiddy comic books, so she had to fess up to something stupid of equal measure he felt.

“I’ll teach ya!”

He was already out his door and around the front of the car, opening her own, and reaching across her lap to unbuckle her from her seat when she continued to shake her head.

She moved only when he began slipping his hand under her thigh and around her back to move her across the long bench to the front of the wheel. He sometimes forgot about where he put his hands on her, when he was giddy like this. She never minded, though.

She was still shaking her head when he reached back over her to buckle her into her new spot behind the wheel, laughing all the way. Amused by her protest of this simple thing. Only amused, because he knew deep down she was actually okay with it. Another fake fight ongoing between them, some old cogs moving in his head.

He moved back some, but resided half in the passenger seat and half in the middle, his big hand on her thigh. Fuck.

He leaned down (Fuck), his other hand pointing at things she should have been paying attention to. This is like the shack all over again.

He looked back at her, even more amused by her flustered face, and repeated himself like he knew what was going on in her head. Because, well, he kinda did.

“This is the petal to the right, and the break to the left, doll.” He brings his hand back to the wheel. “This stick on the left is the turn signal, and this stick on the right is the shifter.”

She began to breath again when he moved away, but he was still chuckling through ever sentence of course. Too handsome for his own good.

“Now all ya gotta do, doll, is shift from park to drive, but put ur foot on the break first.”

“Uh… this one?” She put her left foot on the left most pedal.

He squeezed her thigh, goddamnit, leaning back into her to basically physically move her foot.

“No, no, ya gotta only use your right foot. You can’t use both.”

“Why not?”

He shrugs, tilting his head left at her dumbass question. “Because I said so.” He laughs again, hand still very warm and very present.

“Okay, okay… okay.”

He nods. “Okay okay okay, now just shift the right rod up here.” He grabs her hand, bringing it up and showing her the different gears and how to count through them. Forgetting himself in his amusement, hand still on her fucking thigh.

He laughs all the way home, and she thinks it’s worth the constant breaking she does in the middle of the road when she gets spooked by the speed of the car. The road is luckily empty, and the radio is drowned out by Stan’s commentary. She doesn’t mind the jabs at her newfound skill, and he takes jabs right back when she slams the break particularly hard and his head gets precariously close to the dash. She doubles over at that one, amused by the sudden shock on his face, but quickly distracted by the hand still on her fucking thigh. He thinks she looks nice like that, behind his wheel.

They make it back to the shack in one piece, but he’s the one that has to reach over to shift the car back into park.

He realizes when he looks back over at her, that he had forgotten his anger a while ago, and that his hand had made a new home on the soft of the back of her neck, moving from her thigh when he shifted gears.

He would let her drive again, if it meant this.

She’d admit she likes driving him, in particular, around.

He’d just need to stock up on brake pads.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls imagine #stanley pines #stanley pines x reader #stan pines #stan pines x reader #grunkle stan

520 notes · View notes

ellies1luvr · 7 months ago

Text

dealer!ellie x reader

(head cannons)

based on the song daddy issues by the neighborhood

A/n: Im writing this on my notes app, have never written before but i fear if i don’t write this it will never be written😅 currently going though a situation ship and im very touched starved so that is wear this is coming from‼️

Idc if minors read

please give me feedback even if its not the nicest it is really appreciated!!

TW: erm lesbians, reader having daddy issues, casual by chappell roan mentioned, crying, panic attacks, anxiety, reader sits on ellies lap, weed, lmk if i missed anything!! no use of y/n‼️

Dealer Ellie who met you at a party having panic attack

Dealer Ellie who brought you back to a random couch at the frat party and gave you free weed to calm you down while having a meaningful conversations

Dealer ellie who drove you home and got your phone number

Now anytime you have a panic attack or anything close to one, you call ellie and she comes over with free weed/ holds your hand and comforts you the whole time

“hey pretty girl” “there you go pretty”

when you smoke to much shes there to ground you

“its okay baby i got you, your safe with me”

Soon after you both catch feelings, not telling each other because you don’t want to ruin whats going on.

You call ellie one afternoon asking if she can come over, shes really busy but you dont need to know that and comes over.

you both end up confessing your feelings and make out on the couch, soon you both fall asleep in each others arms

by the end of that night you and ellie are bound by the hip (i think thats how the saying goes?? idk) ellie always with you in someway or some form.

Ellie soon finds out about your attachment issues and fear shes gonna leave you in some way, (hints daddy issues😅) but that fear is soon subsided by ellie and her always with and doting on you

at the beginning of you and ellies relationship, you tried not to get too comfortable but as soon as you do, you are clinging to ellie all the time.

(deals, in classes, restaurants, idk but always touching ellie and ellie always with or touching you in some way)

Getting with ellie didnt stop all your panic attacks or anxiety, when bad panic attacks would happen you would sit on ellies lap with a tv show playing in the background, ellie lighting a blunt, lightly placing it between your lips watching you inhale and exhale

Dealer ellie making that collage dealer bank, would take you shopping all the time.

no matter what your style, hyperfem, on the masculine side, or neither she would spoil the hell out of you.

You and ellie dont have sex untill about a month into the relationship, deciding to take it slow

You and ellie rarely ever got in fights, (you being sensitive also hints daddy issues😅) would cry when ellie raised her voice at you, not trying to be manipulative in the way that anytime you two get in disagreements you cry, but when she would yell, yes.

“ellie that girl was flirting with you i saw it”

“babe no she wasnt”

“ellie please just stop dealing to her”

“babe its my fucking job to deal what do you expect for a dealer in a collage campus not to get hit on?!”

when she heard sniffles her heart immediately dropped realizing that she yelled.

safe to say that girl never got another ounce of weed from ellie again.

i feel like all of ellies past relationships were just “casual” but with you it was very different!

Red wine supernova by chappell roan is definitely her favorite song on rise and fall of a midwest princess (but she relates to casual 😅 the most)

The first time she took you to meet joel you cried bc your dad cut you off once he found out you were gay , and especially not a dad like joel

one time when you amd ellie once woke up early enough to make breakfast before classes, you started a playlist on you phone

Naked in manhattan by chappell roan started playing, you started dancing and ellie soon followed hugging you from behind kissing your neck

Suggestive

at party’s when ellies dealing, you would always be perched on her lap, facing ellie, counting her freckles

Ellie being ellie is horny when shes high, you being you are emotional when high but that doesnt stop yall from having heated moments when both of yall are high.

i feel like ellie would have Lunch by billie eilish playing when shes high and that always leads to a long (fun) night

thanks for reading dykes‼️

#ellie x reader #dealer!ellie #ellie williams #ellie willams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie x you #Spotify #mean!ellie x reader #ellie the last of us #ellie x reader fluff

442 notes · View notes

lightsoutletsgo · 10 months ago

Text

anxiety gremlin — op.81

pairing: oscar piastri x anxious!reader

word count: 3.5k

warnings: mentions of anxiety and generalised anxiety disorder, description of physical symptoms including; nausea, headaches, sweaty hands, stomach pains, brain fog, mental struggles, mentions of panic attacks but reader doesn’t experience one, mentions of food and making food related decisions. PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! hello loves! this one is very personal to me and it was a pretty selfish write tbh... I wasn't sure if I should post it but I decided to do it in the hopes that it brings people some comfort. Oscar's dialogue at the end is a message that I, as the author, want to remind you all. you've got this, even if it doesn't feel like it! happy reading love mimi

Sometimes, it felt as though the world was out to get you. You faced the world and your flight, fight or freeze instincts kicked in. When you woke up, it seemed like it was going to be one of those days. That unexplainable feeling of nausea turning your stomach and an unexplainable headache pulled at the back of your head. Your jaw tensed as the nausea hit you in another wave and you forced yourself to roll over and close your eyes. Maybe if you could get back to sleep you’d wake up feeling better. Your mind however, had other ideas. Instead, deciding to send you down the spiral of impending doom - a lovely gift first thing in the morning. Thoughts whizzed through your head; Why did you feel so nauseous? Why did your head hurt? Had you forgotten something? What were your plans for the day and was that why this horrible feeling was creeping up? You sat up, accepting that you wouldn’t be falling back asleep and decided to get ready for the day. Perhaps a shower would help? The warm water was soothing as it rushed over you and whether it was the heat or the steam or the fact you were doing something to distract yourself, for a moment you felt a little better. Exiting the shower you decided that while the nausea had subsided, it would be a good time to start hydrating and maybe think about eating something. Your phone rang and dragged you from your internal rambling, “Hi baby!” You smiled, despite the fact that your boyfriend couldn’t see you, “Good morning angel,” You could hear Oscar’s dopey lovesick grin through the phone, “how did you sleep?” You set him down on loudspeaker as you got dressed, “I slept okay! How about you?” “I would have slept better if you didn’t keep stealing the blankets…” You gasped, “I do not!” Oscar laughed, “You absolutely do! One night I’m going to record you for evidence.” You giggled, “You do that baby.” Oscar nodded then realised you couldn’t see him, “I’m just calling to find out what you want for breakfast? I figured I’d stop off at that little cafe that you like on my way home.” You gulped, you had no clue what you wanted or how to decide, “I’d love that, thank you handsome!” You thought frantically for a solution, “Uhh you can choose for me! I trust you!” There was a pause on the other end of the line, “Are you sure angel?” “Yup, mhm, so sure!” “O-okay…” After making Oscar promise to drive safely, you hung up.

You realised that for a moment while talking to Oscar, you hadn’t even thought about feeling anxious but it was as if that realisation had summoned the feeling back. All of a sudden your hands felt shaky and it was hard to focus on anything but the disconcerting feeling in your chest. Sitting down on the couch you did your best to control your breathing. Sometimes you wished that it would just turn into a panic attack and be done with. Anything would be better than this on-off-on-off situation. It was like feeling a sneeze that wouldn’t leave your body. Unsatisfying and unsettling.

The front door opening made you snap your head up and you realised that subconsciously you had been rubbing your hands on your sweatpants to try and get rid of the clammy feeling. You shook your head and smiled as Oscar walked through the door, you were just a little bit anxious, it was no big deal.

Oscar beamed at you as he entered the living room. He noticed that you seemed distracted and almost a little shifty. Your eyes kept darting around the room and your hands were absentmindedly picking at a loose thread on the hem of your t-shirt - a habit you usually despised because it had the potential to ruin your clothes. He said nothing, just walked through the room to the kitchen and placed down the paper bags filled with breakfast. “You okay there angel?” You nodded at him but it wasn’t enough to reassure him, “Are you sure?” You nodded once more, why now of all times were you feeling sick again? You sat there grinding your teeth together and clenched your jaw, feeling too sick to open your mouth and reply. You wanted to reply, you really did! But your brain had decided that words were a step too far. “Did you do something while I was out, hmm?” Oscar joked but all it did was make you more anxious, ‘was he angry?’, ‘was he going to shout at you?’, ‘breakup with you?’, “Come on troublemaker, you can tell me!-” “Nothing! Nothing happened! Now will you please stop asking.” You snapped, immediately clapping a hand across your mouth in shock before the tears were welling up in your eyes. “Oscar I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry baby I shouldn’t have snapped… Please don’t be angry!” You rambled a million miles an hour as your hands began rubbing and grabbing the material of your sweatpants again, not even realising your breathing had turned heavy and you were sweating. Oscar stood there in shock, he had never seen you like this before, was this because of him? He slowly approached you, not sure of the issue and not sure how to resolve it. “It’s okay angel, it’s okay” He held his hand out to you but you shook your head, talking through a clenched jaw in the hopes it would help the queasy feeling in your stomach, “Hands sweaty.” Oscar nodded, “Okay then, can I sit next to you?” You nodded, he gently took a seat next to you, careful not to jostle or jolt you, “Is this a medical emergency?” You shook your head, “do I need to call an ambulance?” You shook your head once more, feeling like you wanted to cry.

How embarrassing that you were having an episode like this in front of your boyfriend after hiding it so well for so long. And even more embarrassing that you couldn’t tell him what was going on let alone why you felt the way you did, “Is this a panic attack?” You shook your head no. Oscar made a little ‘oh’ and sat quietly next to you, unsure of what to say or do. You took a deep breath and forced yourself to open your mouth, despite how heavy your tongue felt. “I’m just a bit anxious.” “What about?” You shrugged, “Nothing. Everything. Hard to explain.” Oscar smiled at you through your one word answers and short sentences, “Well I can wait, it’s okay.” You nodded, hands starting to tingle with how long you’d been rubbing them against fabric and you winced as a sudden cramping feeling started in your stomach. Oscar seemed to notice your discomfort, “Please let me hold your hand angel, I promise I don’t care if it’s sweaty and you think it’s gross, I just want to help okay?” You nodded, breathing deeply and letting him take your hand in his.

As soon as your hand was in his, his thumb was rubbing gentle circles over the back of your hand. A soothing motion that you let your eyes focus on. Watching his hands and how they moved, anything to keep your attention off of the anxious feeling.

As he sat next to you Oscar wondered how he should approach you to talk about this. Clearly there was something you weren’t telling him. He thought he knew what it was and he understood why you hadn’t told him. He knew that people got anxious, hell he was always anxious before a race, but he also knew that for some people it went beyond unsettling feelings. He guessed that that’s what you were dealing with too. He’d seen Logan feeling like this a few times and so he wracked his brain to try and remember what the American had told him was useful. How about distraction? It was worth a shot! “Want to watch a film?” You nodded, eyes still laser focused on Oscar’s hands. “I knew you had a thing for my hands but you are allowed to blink you know.” He joked, cracking the smallest sound of an exhale of laughter from you, that was a start. “What film should we watch, hmm?” He grabbed the remote to start flicking through options, his hand never leaving yours, but aware that there was enough space between you so you didn’t feel smothered. “I think something cute and funny? Yes that’s a goooood plan Oscar.” You gave a weak smile once more as he talked to himself and he smiled at you, “how about Tangled?” You nodded and he selected the film, settling back into the couch, head looking at you once more, “Do you want to cuddle?” You shook your head and he just shrugged, wanting to keep you as comfortable as possible, “That’s okay, you just let me know when you do, okay?” You nodded and he squeezed your hand to comfort you, “Do you want to sit back on the couch?” Your body was still tightly wound and feeling like a live wire so you shook your head, physically unable to relax. And still all Oscar did was smile at you.

As the film started, you did your best to focus on it, finding yourself unable to stop smiling and releasing some of the tension in your shoulders at various points when your boyfriend spoke the lines along with the characters, with facial expressions. You watched on screen as Rapunzel and Flynn entered the Ugly Duckling Pub and you realised your body finally felt relaxed enough to sit back against the couch. Oscar silently breathed a sigh of relief, all he wanted to do was fix it for you but he knew that he could only do so much.

By the time the next song had finished, your body was subconsciously leaning against him. Your head rested on his shoulder and he gently tilted his head to rest on top of yours. You gave a little contented sigh. As you sat there, a wave of tiredness hit you, the physical symptoms and mental strain you’d been feeling since you woke up taking its toll. With Oscar’s warm body next to you and the comforting sounds of one of your favourite movies on screen, it wasn’t long before you felt your eyes beginning to slowly close. Oscar looked down at you and saw that your lashes had fluttered shut. He pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head and let his own eyes slip shut.

When you woke up a couple of hours later, the TV was off and you were laying on the couch with a soft blanket covering you. You sat up and sleepily rubbed your eyes, “Osc?” You heard low music drifting through the door to the kitchen and you could hear Oscar mumbling to himself and humming along, cursing occasionally when pots and pans clanged together. He poked his head out from the kitchen door, “There’s my pretty girl. Good morning angel.” He cooed at you and the way you blinked back at him sleepily. “What time is it?” “It’s lunchtime! I was just reheating breakfast.” You nodded, sitting up and pulling your knees up to your chest as he padded across the room to take a seat at the end of the couch by your feet, “I’m sorry.” Oscar’s eyes searched your face as you looked down at your hands in your lap. Oscar’s hand rested on your knee, “Angel, you never have to apologise for something like that…” He trailed off, hesitant to ask you his next question, “do you want to talk about it?” You inhaled slowly, nodding, “Yeah I think I would.” He gently nudged you with his elbow and you shifted back to let him sit in front of you, both of you sitting cross legged. He held his hands out to you and you took them with a shaky exhale.

“Umm… I’m not exactly sure how to explain it?” You admitted, your fingers playing with his own in an effort to keep yourself grounded as that familiar feeling of your shoulders tightening and nausea creeping up began to settle in. He followed your gaze, “That’s okay, we have all the time in the world. Explain it however you feel is easiest.” You nodded once more, “So obviously you noticed that I was feeling anxious,” He tilted his head to one side to show you he was listening as you continued, “That’s because I have generalised anxiety disorder. And the thing is… I feel like that most of the time.” You admitted shakily, desperately willing yourself not to cry. If Oscar was surprised or taken aback he didn’t show it, instead just linking your hand with his and squeezing, encouraged you continued,

“There are good days and there are bad days but I’m always anxious… There’s this constant feeling of underlying panic or anxiety or this sense of impending doom.” You looked up and noticed how Oscar’s eyes searched yours, willing you to understand that he wasn’t going anywhere, “I feel nauseous, I feel shaky, my hands get clammy, sometimes it’s like I forget how to breathe, my head and stomach hurt for no reason, my head goes fuzzy and it’s hard to focus on anything but the feeling of how anxious I am…” “Baby…” Oscar breathed, you gave him a watery smile, tears filling your lash line,

“It makes me irritable, it makes me bitchy, it makes me snap at people I love, it makes me sensitive and emotional, I cry a lot, I cancel plans at the last second, I keep to myself and I build my walls up…” You trailed off, meeting his gaze and noticing that his eyes were filling with tears too, “Sometimes it feels like I’m two people. Me and my anxiety.” You couldn’t help the way the tears fell with a choked sob, “Angel, can I please please give you a hug?” Oscar pleaded, itching to pull you into his arms and comfort you.

You nodded through your sobs, finally feeling the huge emotional release that had been building since you’d woken up. He reached for you, gently grabbing your arms and pulling you forward onto him. Falling back against the arm of the couch with you against his chest as you both stretched your legs out. He held you for what felt like forever, tightly wrapping his arms around you and stroking your hair, gently murmuring to you and kissing your forehead. When your sobs had subsided a little, he wiped your cheeks, “My sweet girl…” He gently pressed kisses across your face, relishing in the way your crying eased and you let out a little sigh after each one, “Thank you so much for telling me angel.” He paused, “Can I ask why you didn’t tell me before?” He asked gently. You sighed, fisting his t-shirt in your hand as you fought the nervous feeling that made your stomach flip. His hand rubbed up and down your back in a soothing motion as he felt you tense up in his arms, “I’m not mad at you baby, I just want to know what I can do differently in the future. I’d hate it if you didn’t feel safe enough to come to me for help.” You nodded, nuzzling into his chest, attempting to block out the world and focus on Oscar. Just Oscar.

“Everyone I’ve told has left…” You mumbled sadly, “Hmmm?” His voice was soft, like he didn’t want to scare you out of answering, “I told a few people growing up, uni friends and stuff, and they would always answer with the usual ‘oh yeah I feel anxious too’... Until I explained I had diagnosed anxiety disorder and then,” you sighed, “then they would tell me it was too much for them to deal with, or they would get mad at me for ruining plans, or tell me to just get over it when I tried to talk to them about it.” Oscar’s hold on you tightened a little as he felt a spark of anger burn inside him. How dare they? Anyone could see that you were trying your best, he gave you his full attention as you continued, “I guess all of those things mean that I have a hard time opening up and trusting people with the knowledge of my diagnosis because it’s always backfired… Please don’t be mad at me… I do trust you, I just…” “Hey,” Oscar’s voice was low to ensure he didn’t trigger you, “I’m not mad or disappointed at you baby, I’m frustrated with myself for not noticing sooner.” “I’m pretty good at hiding it,” you admitted, the two of you led there in silence for a moment before Oscar spoke again, “Well I’m beyond proud of you. For dealing with it everyday and for opening up to me.” You tilted your head up to look at him and pressed a soft kiss to his jawline, “Thank you for listening.” He smiled back down at you, “Of course.”

You summoned up the courage to ask him the question that had been on your mind for a little while, “H-how did you know how to help?” Oscar breathed deeply for a second, “There’s someone on the grid who uhhh, struggles with the same thing. They’ve opened up to me and explained what helps them so I figured I’d try?” You pushed yourself up to look at him in surprise, “Someone on the grid?” Oscar nodded, “I won’t say who, because it’s their thing to disclose and explain,” You nodded, “Of course!” “But they’re doing their best to work on things and ask for help and they’ve been doing really well.” Oscar made a mental note to ask Logan if he would consider talking to you. “Well, Tangled was a great choice!” You giggled as Oscar nuzzled his nose into your neck, “Yeah? I wanted to pick something that wouldn’t make you feel worse.” You couldn’t help the way you threw your arms around him and cuddled into him, so thankful for him and the thought and care he gave to you. “I love you.” It was muffled against his chest but he knew what you wanted to say and so with a chuckle he kissed the top of your head, “I love you too, angel.”

You stayed there for a moment before he was gently pushing you to sit up so he could look into your eyes, “I want to say something.” He hesitated and you nodded at him to continue. He gently held your chin with one hand, keeping you looking at him as his other hand found yours in your lap, linking his fingers with yours and squeezing, despite the way your hands were starting to get a little clammy again, “You may have anxiety disorder but it’s not who you are, baby.” Your eyes widened, he continued, “You are not your diagnosis. There is so much more to you than that. You are kind and caring, you’re smart, you’re beautiful, you’re creative.” Your heart melted at how passionately he was speaking. “You’re loved and valued by me and so many others, angel… I love you, the anxiety gremlin that comes with you and all.” You giggled at how he referred to it, “Anxiety gremlin… I like it!” He smiled, kissing your nose, you scrunched it up and he kept talking, “I know I can’t fix it and make it go away, believe me baby I wish that I could. But I promise that I’ll be here through all the bad days and the good days. I’ll do everything I can to make it easier and more bearable for you.”

You couldn’t help the way you started crying again, happy tears this time, Oscar’s thumb gently wiping them away, “So when you’re feeling up to it, we’re gonna sit down and talk about how I can help. What I can do when you’re having a bad day, the things we can do together, how you like to be distracted, how I can help when we’re out in public, maybe a codeword?-” You giggled as he started speaking faster and faster, you stopped his rambling with a soft kiss, pressing your lips to his, your hand cupping his face, thumb rubbing over his cheek, “That sounds perfect baby, thank you.” Oscar kissed you once more, pulling you into him, “You just let me know when you’re ready.” You nodded, “I will, I promise.” “Good! But for now, we still need to eat our breakfast!”

#mimi.writes #tw anxiety #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #f1 fic #f1 angst #f1 fluff #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri oneshot #f1 oneshot

504 notes · View notes

evie-sturns · 11 months ago

Text

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

summary: you and matt get trapped in an elevator together, resulting in matt having an extreme anxiety attack.

contains: fluff, comforting, panic/anxiety attack, swearing, crying.

--------------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-----------------—-

matt and i have been dating for about 5 months, i'm well aware of the fact he has anxiety, and he knows i'm always here for him. he's never had a full anxiety attack in front of me but i have comforted him mutiple times.

"which floor are we going to?" i ask, stepping into the elevator with matts hand intertwined with mine.

"ground floor." matt mumbles before placing his phone back in the pocket of his baggy jeans.

he's been on edge the whole day, i know matt's had a stressful day full of meetings.

i push the 'lobby' button before stepping back into matts arms.

suddenly the elevator drops, and with a loud bang half of the lights go out.

"what the fuck did you do!" matt shouts, his voice slightly shaky.

"i just pressed the button i don't know!" i stammer, stepping away from matt.

"oh my fucking god." he says, his voice shaky.

"matt its okay, we'll just call someone hm?" i whisper, pulling him into a hug.

"my phones fucking dead, honestly 10 seconds ago it ran out of battery." matt sighs, running a trembling hand through his hair.

silence fills the dim elevator, i left my phone on matt and i's bed back at home.

"matt.." i say softly. matt looks over at me, i can see his worried features through the lighting of the elevator. matt hums as a response "my phones at home.. on the bed."

"for fucks sake!" he groans, i can tell see hes on the verge of tears from the tone of his voice. he sits down on the floor, throwing his head in his hands as his body starts to shake.

my eyebrows twist, i plop down on the floor next to matt. "hey hey.. it's gonna be alright?" i assure him, holding his hand still.

a broken sob exits matts mouth as he covers his face with one hand. "matt, can you lay down for me sweetheart." i say gently, pulling his ringed hand away from his face.

his face is drenched in tears, his eyes swollen and bloodshot.

"oh baby." i coo, matt lays his head down in my lap as he takes shaky breaths. i start talking about my day to distract him, atleast try to.

"you know i woke up to the sound of nick cooking downstairs, when was the last time he cooked? and why'd he have to do it on a saturday morning at 7:00am."

it’s been around 1 hour, matt still hasn’t calmed down.

i take a deep breath, letting a silence fill the small elevator but it's shortly cut off by another cry from matt, his head jolts in my lap.

"matt, do you want to sit up for me?" i say, readjusting my back against the wall of the elevator. matt nods, with a huff he sits up. he leans his head against my chest.

"copy my breaths matt," i whisper, intentionally taking deep breaths in and out.

i rub his shoulder comfortingly,

suddenly loud knocks come from the outside of the elevator, matts head instantly snaps up off my chest, i hear his sobs instantly stob as matt stands up, pulling me up with him by the palms of my hand.

"hey is anyone in there?" a deep voice calls out.

"uh-.. yeah me and my boyfriend are." i yell back, looking back at matt who is standing awkwardly, slightly hunched over and fidgeting with the knuckles of his fingers.

with a loud bang the door to the elevator pries open, i look down at several firemen, who are down a floor, but are visible through a small gap.

"you two are gonna have to slide through that gap, we will help you onto the floor okay?" one of the men shouts.

i get on my hands and knees before laying flat on my stomach, shimming my way through the foot tall gap. "you're okay sweetheart." one of the workers says, letting me fall down a meter into their arms.

i quickly get placed back on my feet, my head instantly turns back to look at matt, who has also crawled through.

i take a deep breath as i open the door to the car, "i can drive.." i say calmly. matt gets into the passenger seat, slumping down in the chair.

we've been driving for a few minutes in silence, matt seem's very off. i'm assuming its just from the panic attack.

"i love you matt." i say, tapping the wheel gently.

"love you too.." matt says, his voice barely audible and wobbling.

i look over at him, "matt, we're safe now you're okay, yeah?" i assure him.

"no, i just feel bad, i feel like a fucking... baby with how much i cry infront of you."

my eyebrows instantly furrow "matt no. don't say that."

----

10 months later.

im sitting in bed aimlessly, i know matts gone out to film a video at a haunted place or something.

my phone lights up with a loud sound, 'Matthew imessage'

i pick up my phone, matts texted me several times. "no way." i laugh, my eyes scanning over everything hes sent.

matt 💗

"y/n. i just had to go in a haunted elevator with the fucking ghosts"

"i was on the verge of tears i swear the ghosts tried to take me into the afterlife."

--------------------.·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·.-----------------—-

i literally can’t tell if this is good but thanks for the request

#chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo angst

1K notes · View notes

flowerandblood · 5 months ago

Text

The Lost Haven (15/16)

[ modern mafia • Aemond x niece • female ]

[ warnings: incest obviously, sex content, smut, the angst, semi-public intimacy, panic attack, anxiety, mafia stuff, uncomfortable conversations, bad, bad things ]

[ description: The vacation from eight years ago still haunts his memories and doesn't let him forget what happened between him and his niece, the daughter of his sister and Harwin Strong. Their paths separate and he immerses himself in his father's mafia world until the day she calls him for the first time since those events. Sexual tension, dark, dangerous, withdrawn, thirsty Aemond. ]

Author’s note: As promised, this is another, this time official modern version of The Fall from the Heavens. In this version, Daemon is not related to the family, but is simply Rhaenyra's husband and the leader of the second gang, Alys and Larys are also not related to each other, but Larys is Harwin's brother. I will partly refer to the original series, hiding some easter eggs, and some will be a completely new, fresh plot. As in every universe, only Aemond calls her Rhaenys and this is not her real name (she is unnamed character and the others also do not know that he calls her that). There will be a lot more brutality and angst in this version, so watch out. You can read this as a standalone story.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond & Rhaenys Moodboard

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

She left.

Although he promised himself it would never happen, she was gone.

He spent the first half hour after he woke up in a state of complete hysteria, sitting on the sofa with his face hidden in his hands, crying, crying and crying, unable to calm down.

He was sure she would forgive him this time too.

That she would understand.

However, some part of him knew that the life he was forcing her into must have been unbearable: he himself would not have been able to wait for her every night, not knowing if she was safe, if she would return, if she was alive.

He would have gone mad in her place.

So all that was left to him was weeping and despair, in which he sank completely. Then came a wave of denial: the thought that she would never have done this to him, that perhaps she had only gone out to the shop and would return soon, that he was worried for no reason.

After a few hours, he began to panic.

What if she had done something to herself?

What if she jumped off some bridge, slit her veins again, what if her dead body was found in the woods?

Hundreds of terrifying scenarios whirled through his head so, in an act of desperation, he took his phone out of his pocket and called her, just wanting to hear that she was alive, that she had simply returned to Daemon's house and he didn't need to fear for her life.

She didn't answer, however, causing him to wail like an animal, once again falling into hysteria.

After all, she wouldn't just leave, it wasn't her way.

She would leave a letter, any word of explanation, so that he wouldn't worry and would know what to do next.

He searched the whole flat, looking into all its various nooks and crannies, but was disappointed to find nothing.

Instead, he noticed that her shoes, backpack and charger were gone.

Some part of him wanted to call Rhaenyra, to ask if she was home, but what if she wasn't?

What if they just all panicked thinking something had happened to her because of him?

Where else could she go?

And then it dawned on him.

His hand went quickly to the pocket of his trousers and he exaled heavily, closing his eyes in relief at the thought that the keys to the house by the sea were not in it.

Of course that's where she ran away, he thought tenderly.

Where it had all started.

She needed solitude, peace and quiet.

But was she safe, had she not done anything to herself?

He decided he had to write to her.

He walked around the flat all day with his phone in his hand, constantly checking to see if she had written him back, but she hadn't. He fought with himself like an animal, at the same time wanting to respect that she wanted to think things through without him and fearing that she was there alone and terrified, not knowing what to do.

One second he was deciding that he would drive to her, and the next he was recognising that he couldn't, that she had to reach out to him on her own.

He promised her that he would let her go.

At night he could not sleep, lying on the bed with Vhagar, feeling anxious and afraid, so he spent long hours thinking about what would change their situation.

How could he at the same time give her more room to act and decide, while not endangering her? How could he bring her into this disgusting world and avoid her becoming a simple target?

And then he remembered her father.

Of what he wanted to do.

He stood up quickly, opening the cupboard in which he kept the documents, and began to look through them one by one, feeling his heart pounding like mad with excitement. After a while, he found what he wanted: the title deeds to the premises that had originally belonged to Harwin Strong.

He looked through each one and ran his hand over his face, analysing everything: he'd had a problem with them from the start because the staff who had stayed there were very reluctant to deal drugs: until recently this had frustrated him and he'd contemplated using force on them, but now he decided it was a perfect fit.

They were clean.

He could pass it on to her.

Her collateral, her key to his world, the means by which she could be his partner – ownership would make her a player on the chessboard protected on two sides – by him and Daemon – so no one would dare take away what he had given her.

He knew that, although her stepfather was furious with them, he would never attack her of his own accord – moreover, this decision of his could alleviate the entire conflict between them.

In the morning, he was pacing around his flat, feeling the need to drive to her, to reveal to her that he had a solution for them, something that would make her feel more independent, that would allow her to accompany him to his various meetings, being an equal member of them and not just his chick.

She still gave no sign of life, however, and he began to fear more and more that this meant the worst.

That it was too late.

She hadn't written back.

He decided in an act of desperation that he couldn't wait any longer and had to see her, so he drove to where he hoped never to appear again, which was his family home.

His mother made big eyes at the sight of him.

"– Aemond – I am so happy –"

"I need the keys to the house by the sea. I know there is a spare pair in the house. I lost mine." He said indifferently, pretending that he felt no pain at the sight of her sad eyes, that he did not suffer at the thought that he had been a disappointment to her.

That he had abandoned her.

He didn't want that, but he couldn't go back.

Alicent nodded as if his words broke her and disappeared behind the door, returning a moment later with a bunch of keys which she handed to him, looking at him expectantly.

"Are you happy with her?" She asked.

He looked at her for a moment, feeling that if he opened his mouth he would cry.

So he kept silent.

Yes, he thought.

Only with her.

He nodded his head.

His mother smiled, as if relieved, which made him want to sob even more.

I have failed her and perhaps it is too late.

I have not been able to protect her.

I thought it would be easier.

"I'm glad. Give her my warm regards."

Driving his car to the sea, all he could think about was that he would surely find her body in a bathtub filled with water and her blood, pale and cold.

That she had escaped her suffering in the only way she could, by returning to the only place where she felt safe and happy.

To that summer.

By the time he arrived, night was all around him, the thunder of the storm and the sound of the rain making him anxious – he swallowed hard, seeing that no light was on in any of the windows.

A cold shiver ran down his spine, his steps heavy and slow.

He thought he wasn't ready for this.

He wasn't ready to lose her one last time, forever.

He quietly put the key in the lock and turned it – the door opened in front of him, and when he closed it behind him he was relieved to find that he couldn't smell the rottenness.

There was hope in his heart that perhaps she was alive.

Perhaps she longed to be alone, nothing more.

He moved slowly upstairs, looking first into the bathroom and breathed a loud sigh to see that it was empty – he then moved to her room, but there too everything looked untouched.

He thought, moved, that she was in his room.

Where she felt safe.

He had the feeling that his mind stopped functioning when his hand reached for the door handle and pressed it – when it opened in front of him with a quiet creak, his heart stopped, and he noticed that, indeed, the sheets on his bed were scattered in disarray.

She was here, he thought in disbelief.

But where was she now?

And then he heard it.

A quiet rustling.

God, she was under the bed.

He moved slowly towards her, feeling that his whole body was quivering, seeing himself, then, eight years ago, as if their story had come full circle.

As if everything was heading to this moment.

He knelt down and leaned in, meeting the terrified, sad gaze of her big eyes under the bedframe, her lips clenched into a thin line of fear, her face red with tears.

His heart broke.

"– Rhaenys – oh, baby –" He muttered in a cracking voice, reaching out his hand to her, and she immediately crawled towards him, falling right into the embrace of his longing arms.

He closed his eyes, cuddling her into himself as if he wanted her to melt into one with him, pressing his face against her fragrant hair, her soft, warm, familiar flesh, feeling her whole body tremble, whooping from crying.

"– I’m sorry – I’m sorry – I didn’t know what to do –" She wailed in despair, barely getting any words out, her small hands clenched helplessly on his leather jacket.

He shushed her, stroking her hair and her back, feeling relief, feeling peace, feeling warmth because she was with him, because she was alive, because she hadn't run away, only was lost just like him.

He understood her, understood what she needed and how scared she was.

"– no – it’s okay – I found you, little one – you’re safe now –" He whispered and smiled under his breath when she nodded.

She didn't push him away, she wasn't angry that he had found her, that he had come – on the contrary, he knew that she was actually waiting for him, that she needed him, and he was there for her, for his sweet little girl.

He rose with her, holding her in his arms, and lay down in bed with her, exactly as he had done then, that night. Pulling off his jacket and shoes, he looked at her with a tenderness and gentleness of which he had not suspected himself, her rosy, pretty face, her glistening lips parted in a deep breath.

He leaned down, laying back beside her, and touched her cheek uncertainly, not wanting to frighten her, to make her think he would try to close her mouth with sex and intimacy as usual, making her feel safe only to leave her again the next morning.

No.

This time he had a plan.

For the first time in his life, he felt he knew what to do.

She'd barely sighed when his lips, moist and swollen with longing, pressed against hers in a sweet, lazy kiss – they caressed each other with the quiet clicks of their saliva, sinking again and again into each other's bodies, a shiver running down his spine as her soft hand ran through his hair and down his neck.

God, how he loved her, he thought, feeling his heart flutter in his chest with joy.

"– I love you –" She whispered into his mouth, and he sighed, feeling his cock swell all over and pulse at her words in his trousers, because he craved just that, just those words, the reassurance that, like him, she would never be able to give up what they had. "– that's all I know –"

He wasn't sure they'd ever had such slow, tender, sweet, vulnerable sex together – it seemed to him that her body was melting under his fingers, her plump lips parted sweetly against his slick tongue, their arms holding them close, their foreheads pressed together.

He loved her.

When he felt her again, when he broke deep into her soft, warm, moist flesh again, nothing but helpless, boyish moans and grunts left his throat – her closeness, the sensation of her fleshy walls enveloping his erection thrusting into her greedily again and again was something craved, beloved, meant only for him.

For the first time, he didn't think about what his lover thought of him.

Did she think he had done a good job?

Did he look good in this position?

Were his noises manly?

Did he last long enough?

Did she perceive him as strong?

He simply made love to her, and she, her hands, her mouth, her cunt, her wonderful, sweet body gave herself completely to him, allowing him to fill her with his release with a sigh of relief.

"I know how to fix this, baby. Do you trust me?" He asked her quietly when it was all over, when their bodies lay entwined together in a tender embrace, his hand stroking her head pressed against his chest, right where she belonged.

By his side, always by his side.

He heard her swallow hard, surprised, his soft manhood still deep inside her.

They were one.

For eight years they had lasted as broken halves of a whole.

But no more.

"What do you mean?" She whispered uncertainly, trailing her fingers down his back, and he swallowed hard, thinking this was the moment.

"I will give you back the premises that belonged to your father."

Silence.

She'll think it's an idiotic idea.

That it didn't make sense.

She will walk away.

"What?"

"Before Larys took over their entire family business, your father had three establishments: Harrenhal Club, Twins Club and Eagle’s Nest Hotel. He got to the point, wanting to get as far away from drug smuggling as possible, that the people working there were reluctant to go back to their old ways. Larys forced them to do so, but most of the best workers fled to my grandfather or Daemon. I didn’t know for a long time what to do with these places, but now I think I should just pass them on to you. That will make you able to take part in some of our conversations as an associate, like Baratheon does, for example. I will assign you some of my men to protect you. Some of them are tired and want peace and quiet for themselves and their families. Your presence, the fact that you are with me and at the same time you are Daemon’s daughter gives us the assurance that you will not be attacked from any side."

He mumbled out, feeling like he'd lost his breath in his lungs, throwing out everything he'd been thinking about while she wasn't by his side.

He felt her whole body freeze.

She was in shock.

"What about Jace? Luke? He was their father too." She mumbled, and he snorted, smiling involuntarily.

They had no say in the matter.

There was nothing they could do.

"I don't give a shit about them."

She swallowed hard and lifted her head to look at him – he sighed seeing that her gaze was both terrified and warm at the same time, full of the affection he craved so much.

"I won't have to store your drugs or sell them?" She muttered, and he shook his head quickly.

God, she was really considering it.

"No. You'll just be giving us cover for our meetings from time to time. Nothing illegal that would burden you." He mumbled in a trembling voice, a pleading look asking her to trust him this one last time, to let him fix everything, set it on the right track.

"You'll really do it?" She asked, and he involuntarily licked his lower lip, nodding.

"Yes. Yes, if you come home with me. We'll go to the notary tomorrow, make it official." He said in excitement, feeling his heart pounding like crazy in his chest in euphoria.

She lowered her gaze, sighing heavily, for some reason sad again.

"After all, none of them will want to listen to me. They won't respect me. I'm just a little girl, what do I know about their tough world?" She asked, shrugging her shoulders, and he shook his head.

"I'll help you. Just like you helped me with my studies. I will teach you everything. They'll respect you, first for the sake of me and your two fathers, and then for the sake of you when they realise you'll protect them and not drag them into this shit." He said with a certainty that amazed him, her eyes glazed over with tears.

She wanted to believe him, he knew that.

She wanted it to work.

She wanted to be with him.

"Shall we try?" He mumbled, waiting for her reaction like a sentence.

And she nodded her head.

She nodded her head.

She snuggled into him and he closed his eyes, feeling the tears of relief burning under his eyelids, thinking that he loved her harder than he ever had in his life.

She had always, always been on his side.

"I love you. Everything is going to be okay. I promise."

And she believed him.

They spent the night sleeping in an embrace so tight that he smiled with amusement – as soon as he turned on the bed, tired of one position her small body immediately followed him, her fingers clenching on his back, demanding his tender, safe hold in which he closed her happily again and again.

She slept with her face snuggled into his chest and neck, her legs entwined with his, their hands holding them close.

They were home.

They were home because they were together.

After they woke up, writhing in each other's embrace for a long time, they showered together.

"– ah – mghmm –" She mumbled, her face pressed against the wall, leaning forward, her hips bucked towards him while he opened her up again and again on his erection, swollen from the morning, begging for hours to be fulfilled.

"– what a sight –" He exhaled, looking at her throbbing slit from which his semen was leaking, lazily rolling his hips back and forth, sinking into her sweet, warm flesh.

One of his hands gripped her waist to keep her from falling over, while the other rested on the tiles above her head for balance, the pleasantly warm water washing over their bodies like rain.

Like God forgiving them of all their sins.

"– I love you –" He whispered as if it was the most perverted, ungodly thing he could say to her right now, listening to the loud, quick slaps of their naked, wet bodies against each other, feeling her fleshy cunt squeeze his hard length tighter, sucking it inside her with his throaty groan.

"– I love you too –" She mewled, moaning louder and louder, aroused by how shamelessly exposed she was to him, that he was watching what he was doing to her, that he was bursting into her body, and she couldn't help it.

She was his.

"– f-fuck – mmm –" He sighed as his peak came down on him like an epiphany and closed his eyes, tilting his head back as he felt her plump walls begin to clench around his manhood in her sweet fulfilment.

He looked at her again, wanting to see it, his fat, throbbing cock deep inside her as he filled her with his seed.

She was so innocent.

"– what I'm doing to you is so wonderfully wrong – I could fuck you all day long –" He exhaled, panting heavily along with her, stroking affectionately her chubby, smooth buttocks. She moaned at his words, closing her eyes as if she felt his words in every nook and cranny of her body, her hot core clamped tight around his half-soft manhood.

"– yes –" She mumbled, reaching her hand towards his, as if she wanted him to understand that he could embody his desire into reality.

He smiled tenderly at the sight, at her reaction, sliding out of her gently with her sigh of relief and watched as a trickle of his spend dripped down her thigh.

"– uncle and niece, huh –" He hummed, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her upwards, her wet back and buttocks slapping against his body, his lips sinking into her moist, soft neck. She just murmured, embracing his arms, tilting her head back, relaxed and at ease.

She looked up at him at last, her gaze clouded with hot affection, her lips parted sweetly in a deep breath.

"– Hades and Persephone –"

As promised, straight from there they drove to the notary – he didn't want her to think that he was deceiving her again, and that the change in their lives would happen at some unknown time – it was to happen here and now, immediately, and she was to feel that he was telling the truth.

He went to the man who handled the documentation of all the premises that belonged to him – Ned Tully was an elderly man who liked to walk around in big jumpers and tracksuits, however, his gigantic office could tell that he was certainly not a poor man.

He just didn't give a shit about anything and wasn't afraid of the police, which was exactly what he needed.

His Rhaenys followed him inside, glancing at him uncertainly with her big, bright eyes, and he stroked her back with his palm.

"Come." He hummed, pointing to one of the armchairs facing the large oak desk behind which Tully sat, who slid a packet of cigarettes towards him.

He took one out and put it in his mouth, and Tully leaned over and lit it with his lighter.

"What brings you here, boy?" He asked lowly.

He'd always addressed him this way, but it didn't bother him – he didn't do it with a sneer and he was extremely professional, even though he didn't look like it.

He took a drag and let the smoke out through his nose, spreading himself out comfortably in his seat.

"I want to transfer my three properties, three businesses to another person. To my niece." He said calmly – Tully's gaze fled sideways to her small, tense figure.

"Daemon's daughter. Well, well. The world is small. Are you sure you want to do this? Once you sign the papers, it will be too late." He said, and he nodded.

"What properties are involved?" He asked, and he took another drag, tilting his head back, releasing the smoke with his mouth towards the ceiling.

"Harrenhal Club, Twins Club and Eagle's Nest Hotel." He recited from memory, feeling a strange calm, a conviction that he had done the right thing.

The notary prepared a set of documents and, after making sure he hadn't changed his mind, he and his niece signed a piece of paper after a piece of paper and then locked everything up in a folder.

"I will take care of the tax issue myself. Calculate for me how much I will have to pay." He said to him, and Tully nodded.

"What?" She muttered, looking at him horrified, his hand closed on hers.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it. Hm? It's okay." He whispered, her eyes glazed with tears, her lower lip trembling.

He tried to restrain himself, and he knew she did too, but they had to stop in the woods to find an outlet for their emotions locked in the car, her body warm and willing, welcoming him easily inside, her arms cuddling him between her bare breasts.

He sighed heavily as he came inside her at last, tracing his fingers over her chest and murmured contentedly.

"They're getting bigger. Fuller. From caressing them for sure." He hummed, amused, placing a sweet, lingering kiss on her breast only to clamp his lips on her nipple again a moment later.

He heard her swallow quietly, her hand running through his hair.

"Let's go home." She whispered.

Vhagar was euphoric at the sight of her – she squealed and barked at the same time, running around her and jumping on her, distraught that she was suddenly gone.

The truth was that his dog had become accustomed to not being alone even when he was out and she didn't like the fact that it had changed.

"– there, there – I missed you too –" She laughed, kneeling on the floor, embracing her thick, furry neck, letting her big tongue lick all over her face.

As they ate the pizza they'd quickly ordered, they leaned over the binders full of documents, which they began to look through together.

"You've got the entire history of each establishment here. The owners, the employees, their contracts, invoices for goods, electricity and gas bills." He explained, flipping through page after page. "And the income and tally each month by the accountant. Each of these places earns more than it spends. I've hired marketing people and refurbished some rooms in Eagle's Nest that needed it most."

"That's a lot." She muttered, clearly overwhelmed by the amount of information she had to absorb.

"Don't be afraid. For the first few months, you will simply deal with it with me. You'll be involved in talking to staff and accountants. I will introduce you, I won't throw you in at the deep end. If something goes wrong, I will be beside you to help you fix it." He said, clasping his fingers in her hand, and she nodded, looking at him hopefully.

"Thank you, Aemond. I mean it." She whispered, and he swallowed hard, wondering if he had ever heard that from anyone.

Thank you.

Neither his father nor Otto had ever thanked him.

Not really.

They felt that what he was doing was due to them, that they were doing him a favour by allowing him to earn crores without, in their view, much effort.

They had come to all this through their hard work, not him.

He stroked her soft cheek and kissed her forehead with a quiet click, feeling a pleasant warmth in his heart.

She always knew how to appreciate him.

To say what he longed to hear.

To give him what he needed.

Over the next few days, they mainly went through the documents he kept at home, as well as at each of these places. His staff looked at them in surprise, as he rarely came in his own person, however, he did not want to say what had happened for the time being so as not to cause panic.

He knew that some of them would be unhappy with the change thinking that he had placed her in such a high position despite the fact that she could do nothing, because she was his whore.

Because he had fulfilled her whim.

He had to make them respect her, make them want to listen to her.

They didn't even know she was what they needed.

"Let's go to the supermarket. We don't have anything left to eat." He said and she nodded, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

"You do the shopping, I have to go to the pharmacy." She replied lightly, turning her head away. He looked at her, surprised, then back at the road.

"Are you feeling unwell?" He asked, and she swallowed hard.

"No, but… I've been quite stressed lately. With how much I still have to learn. I'm thinking of getting some herbs to drink, some melissa or something." She muttered, and he nodded with understanding, placing his hand on her knee.

"Okay, baby."

As they agreed, he did the shopping, planning to make tomato soup, remembering how he loved it when he was a small child, and met her at the car.

"Did you buy everything you wanted?" He asked, putting the shopping bags in the boot, and she nodded and smiled, something in her gaze that he didn't like.

She was tense.

He knew that she was apprehensive about meeting the staff for the first time – she had insisted that he let her do it alone, but he was afraid that those people would then surround her and bite her, and she would feel even worse.

On the other hand, he knew that they would be calm in his presence and not object, but perhaps they would hate her behind her back.

He didn't want that.

He was not sure if he should start the subject, so he finally gave up and just got into the car and she did the same.

He tried to get out of her what she had bought, but all she said was that it was tea and that she would brew it for herself when they got back.

He didn't know why, but he felt anxious.

When they got home, as soon as she pulled off her shoes she locked herself in the toilet.

With her rucksack.

Perhaps she was suddenly surprised by her period?

He decided that this was certainly the case and took the shopping bags into the kitchen, unpacking them one by one, listening for any strange sounds.

He put the water on for the soup and prepared everything to cook it, glancing constantly at the door in the corridor behind which the light was on.

"Are you all right? Do you have a stomach ache?" He called out, feeling his heart hit harder in his chest.

"I'm fine." She muttered in a cracking voice making him put the glass bottle of tomato puree down on the table and walk in that direction.

"Rhaenys? What's going on? You're acting strange, I don't like it." He said, but was answered by silence.

Fuck.

He slammed his fist against the door, feeling adrenaline and fear bubbling through his veins, the sight of her in a tub full of blood making it difficult for him to catch his breath.

"Rhaenys, if you don't open it, I'm going to break down the fucking door." He growled and swallowed hard when the door opened suddenly and he saw her face red with emotion.

What was that all about?

He wanted to ask about it, but she held out her hand towards him with a small, bright, long object with what looked like a small glass window with pink stripes.

"– what is it? –" He mumbled, wrinkling his eyebrows in concern, taking it from her, watching it between his fingers trembling with nerves.

"– it's a pregnancy test –"

He looked at her, feeling his heart stop suddenly – she was smiling, her gaze warm, full of everything he wanted so much.

"– no way –" He said and she laughed, so lightly and sweetly that he just grabbed her in his arms and lifted her high, smiling like a moron, feeling tears under his eyelids for some reason.

"– baby – oh my fucking God – show me this little belly –" He muttered, lifting her Tshirt higher, leaning down to place a few lingering, loud, sticky kisses on her bare skin.

As he set her down on the ground he burst out crying, for neither his body nor his mind could deal with what he felt otherwise: the girl he loved was pregnant, and she was happy about it despite the fucked-up situation they were in, wanting to create something with him that he had always dreamed of so much.

His own family.

She hugged him, letting him bury his face in her neck, whooping his tears while smiling broadly, his hands clenched on the back of her Tshirt.

"– I'm so happy – God, baby, this is wonderful, wonderful news –" He mumbled out in a breaking voice, returning to crying, feeling that he was unable to control what was happening to his body.

"Will you come with me to the gynaecologist?" She asked softly, stroking his back, and he nodded quickly, excited, looking at her with big eyes.

"Yes, of course. Now?" He asked, ready to drive her anywhere and do whatever she needed, his hand involuntarily sliding down to her lower abdomen, stroking it as if she was hiding a treasure inside.

Her fingers stroked his palm as she laughed.

"No. No one will take us in today anyway. But tomorrow, yes." She said with a smile, bubbling with energy, joy and contentment, the look in her eyes warm and bright.

"Okay. Okay." He said, and she squealed as he picked her up again, this time walking with her towards the kitchenette, wanting to finish dinner.

If up until now he thought he was crazy about her and about her being close, he would now describe it as an obsession.

She had to be close because he had to touch her, embrace her, feel her, kiss her – in the evening, once they were in bed, he didn't know what to do – he wanted to fall asleep at the same time with his face snuggled between her breasts, in his favourite place in the world, only to change his mind a moment later, pull the duvet off her and place his cheek on her stomach, stroking her lower abdomen with his palm.

"Mmm." He heard her hum in her sleep, in a natural, affectionate gesture combing her fingers through his short hair, he, however, was in too much euphoria.

I love you, he thought, looking down at her belly, running his fingertips over her bare skin.

I love you and your mum.

He fell asleep in the morning only to be woken by her alarm clock three hours later – he had forced her to make an appointment as soon as possible, so they were due to turn up at the doctor's surgery at seven in the morning. His niece was semi-conscious, asleep in his car, he, however, felt fresh and rested, keeping his hand clasped over hers.

He realised that he was happy.

Truly happy.

He was ashamed to be sitting next to her, lying on the couch, watching as a man in a white lab coat sat beside her in a chair in front of a small screen, wandering a special ultrasound machine over her abdomen, covered in some sticky green gel, and he felt tears under his eyelids, his knee popping all over in a nervous reflex.

"It's true, miss, you are pregnant. You can see it, right here." He said, pointing his finger at a small bright dot on the screen the size of a needle head, and he hid his face in his hands and burst out crying full of relief.

He wanted this so badly.

"Do you want to leave and calm down?" The doctor asked him, and he shook his head.

"I'll print you pictures."

A little dot.

A little dot that was going to be a little man in nine months.

He thought about this as he lay in bed, looking at the few pictures the doctor had printed for them. His niece lay next to him, sleeping peacefully, wrapped in his arm, resting after having to wake up early.

Will it be a boy or a girl?

It doesn't matter, he will love each one equally.

The baby's room, toys, cot, pram, sleepwear will have to be organised.

So many things to do and so little time.

Nine months.

He put the photo aside and slid his free hand down to her belly, stroking it softly, her murmur of contentment made him lean over and kiss the top of her head.

"– shhh – sleep –"

When she woke up he suggested they take a walk with Vhagar and she eagerly agreed.

The fresh air would certainly do both her and their baby good, he thought.

They were both bubbling with energy and optimism.

"I want to tell my mother about this." She said as they walked through the park, and he threw her a quick, horrified look.

"I don't know if it's a good idea. What if they report us? What we did is illegal." He mumbled.

He was slowly beginning to forget that their relationship was incestuous.

He wondered if, if he confirmed his paternity at the Registry Office so that his child could bear his name, someone would realise that something was wrong.

She glanced at him in disbelief, her eyebrows arched in pain.

"It will be her grandchild. She won't, she certainly won't. She's angry with us, but… I can't imagine we'll hide it from everyone. After all, it will start to show eventually." She said, and he swallowed hard, realising that she was right.

Either way, it would eventually come out.

They decided to kill two birds with one stone – he called his mother and she called hers and they both arranged to meet at the same place and time – in one of the cafés not far from their flat.

Sitting at one of the tables by the window, they held hands – her gaze, despite his horror and feeling that it was a mistake, told him that they had done the right thing.

His lamp in the dark room.

Thanks to her, he knew where to go and why.

Alicent and Rhaenyra bumped into each other in the entrance – their gazes expressed shock, discomfort and confusion. Alicent spotted them sitting in the distance, and Rhaenyra followed her gaze and pressed her lips together, lowering her head.

That was it.

They both finally walked over to the table and sat down next to each other reluctantly, trying not to look at each other.

"Can you tell me what this is supposed to mean?" Her mother asked her, and his niece twisted restlessly in her chair.

He lowered his gaze, feeling ashamed but proud at the same time, his fingers tightened on hers.

We are going to have a baby.

"I'm pregnant. You're going to be grandmothers. It's already decided." She said in a trembling voice, leaving them with no illusions about her decision.

Rhaenyra and Alicent drew in a loud breath and averted their gazes. Rhaenyra pressed her lips together and shook her head with tears in her eyes, while Alicent hid her face in her hands, drawing in air loudly.

There was a long, awkward silence.

He looked at his niece in pain, seeing the tears running down her cheeks, and stroked the delicate skin of her wrist with his thumb – he knew that she felt what he felt, that she was simultaneously afraid and ashamed of what they had done, on the other hand unable to imagine that they could have done otherwise.

"And now what? Hm?" Rhaenyra asked in a breaking voice, impatient and desperate.

"We will raise our child and have a wedding. A church wedding. I'm working on it."

"What?" Alicent mumbled, as if she had just woken up from some terrible dream, looking at everyone around her as if she thought she had overheard herself.

"A dispensation and appropriate payment is required for this, but I will sort it out. Everything will be as it should be." He said, looking at his mother, her brown eyes big and red from tears, her lips parted in disbelief.

"What do you want to hear? Congratulations?" Rhaenyra asked, shaking her head.

"I want my child to be able to count on her two grandmothers as well as the rest of our family, but I do not expect it. I thought you deserved to hear it from us." Said his Rhaenys, trying to calm herself.

Rhaenyra burst into sobs, as if something inside her had finally snapped, burying his face in her hand – he saw his mother tighten her fingers on her hand lying on the table, and his half-sister did not push her away.

He pressed his lips together, refusing to let his own tears run down his cheeks, hearing only sighs and sobs, a sense of shame and grief rising in the air, suffocating them all.

Finally, his mother wiped her nose and took a breath, closing her eyes.

"Since there is no turning back and you have made your decision, there is nothing more we can do. This child, if born, will not be guilty of anything and deserves our love and yours. I would not forgive myself if I were not present in my own grandchild's life because of my beliefs." She said, and he lowered his gaze and nodded, feeling like a little boy again.

Rhaenyra took her hand from her grasp and sighed, sitting for a moment with her eyes closed, as if thinking about something.

"I have heard…I have heard that you have passed on to my daughter the premises that previously belonged to Harwin." She said, finally looking up at him with her bright, piercing eyes.

"I did."

Rhaenyra stared at him, pain, grief, sadness and hundreds of other emotions in her gaze that must have just ripped her heart apart.

"Do you love my daughter?" She asked with emphasis on each word, as if she wanted him to understand exactly what the purpose of her question was.

He swallowed hard, looking at her with a blank stare.

"I've loved her for as long as I can remember. Since that holidays at the seaside. It didn't hurt me then that you ran off with Luke. I didn't give a shit about any of you. What hurt me was that you took her with you." He whispered in breaking voice, feeling a single, lonely, heavy tear run down his face.

Him crying that night in hospital, after the operation, when his mother told him that his niece had returned home.

They hadn't even said goodbye to each other.

Rhaenyra's lips pressed together in a thin line, her eyes glazed over, her brow arching in an expression of distress at the memory of those events.

"Will you take care of her? And my grandchild?" She asked, and he felt his throat squeeze so tightly that he had trouble catching his breath.

"Yes."

She nodded, as if accepting something, all around them the conversations of others, the waiters walking by, the smell of coffee, tea and cakes. Rhaenyra looked at him finally and forced herself to smile, in which, however, he saw a hint of sincerity.

Some kind of relief, a conviction that things would be what they were meant to be.

"Make her happy."

247 notes · View notes

thebenjiblackwoodexpress · 12 days ago

Text

Devil's Snare: Part. 11

Aemond Targaryen x reader

Description: Y/N is pregnant with Aemond's child. Of that she is certain. What she can't seem to figure out is how to tell him in the midst of a bloody war that has already cost them so much.

Previous part Dividers kindly provided by @zaldritzosrose

Writer's note: I literally can't apologise enough for the biggest hiatus of all time! I completely lost the ability to write at all and hated everything I did write. Then I met Ewan Mitchell and died for a bit, so finally I'm back resurrected. I have no idea if anyone will still want to read this story as it's been sooooo long but here's another part anyway. I said it would be the last but I've had to split it because of the length, so they'll be at least another one before I wrap it up. Thank you to all you lovely readers who made me want to finish this story xxx

Warnings: Female reader, mentions of vomiting for people with emetophobia, mix of fluff and angst, some suggestive content, a scene straight out of Star Wars Attack of the clones (Anidala for the win) Aemond being emotionally constipated but making up for it with grand gestures.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Y/N to hide her condition from Aemond, who had become even more protective if that were possible. Under his ever perceptive eyes she had to make a concerted effort to conceal the waves of nausea that seemed to overcome her at the most inconvenient of moments. It had been a month since Y/N had first taken note of the absence of her womanly cycle and she could no longer prevaricate on the matter...she was pregnant with Aemond's child. At first she'd felt a pleasant warmth spread through her at the realisation, a spark of joy at the thought of seeing Aemond as a father. She'd even been excited to tell him as soon as she was certain of the fact, but each time she tried he seemed to be called away to an urgent council meeting or to scout the skies on Vhagar.

The perfect moment never presented itself as she'd hoped, allowing her anxieties to build and a new fear to rise up within her. As the war continued to consume Aemond's every waking hour, worsened by the splitting of the Blacks' cause into two fronts as Daemon pursued his own claim, Y/N feared Aemond would not be pleased with her news. After all, surely this was the worst possible time to bring a child into the world. They'd never even discussed children, and Y/N had no idea how her husband felt about becoming a father. Without his words to soothe her fears, Y/N grew more and more uneasy with her condition, particularly as she finally felt her stomach begin to swell. She feared for Aemond's reaction, for herself having heard many stories of the pains of chidlbirth. But mostly, she feared for the child she now carried. What would happen if Rhaenyra won the war. Would the child survive. Would any of them?

She was sure Aemond had noticed something was amiss by now by the way she constantly felt his gaze on her, following her every move, not unaware of the look of gentle concern his one eye held. Sleep regularly evaded her, evidenced by the dark hollows that now shaded her eyes. And Y/N had lost her appetite, plagued by bouts of sickness, which had her running to the nearest chamber pot. In the middle of the night, she regularly woke up in a sweat and had to prise Aemond's arms from her body, a difficult feat as he instinctively tightened his iron grip on her in his sleep. In a sense, she was lucky Aemond had normally already left their chambers by the time she felt the sharp tug in her abdomen that sent her running before the wretching started.

But she did miss him during the day when he was detained by the small council and their interactions were limited to stolen kisses and glimpses of one another in the gloomy halls of the Keep. It was selfish, she thought, to wish they could simply return to the way it had been before when they'd spent nearly all of their time together, whilst the war continued to loom over the Red Keep. But she sometimes she found herself longing for simpler times when they would spend hours sitting and talking together, when she was just his handmaiden and he a handsome Prince who'd deigned to grant her his attentions.

Y/N rested discreetly against a column just before the small council chamber. She'd hoped to at least catch a glimpse of her husband as the council dispersed for the morning, but even crossing the short distance from their chambers to this part of the Keep had tired her considerably, likely only a sign of the fatigue she should expect to experience in pregnancy. As the kingsguard opened the doors to the chambers and her eyes met Aemond's, she forgot her weary limbs and smiled as he immediately rushed to meet her. A few moments later, his arms were wrapped around her as he held her to him, spinning her before letting her down gently. He kept a light hold on her waist, grinning down at her.

"You've come to see your husband? I am glad of it. I was in need of seeing something beautiful."

Y/N blushed "I missed you." Aemond squeezed her waist gently, his expression sympathetic.

"I know. But once the war is won, we will always be together. I give you my word."

Y/N nodded, trying to push down her feelings of loneliness and her anxieties around the child she was now certain she carried. She hadn't realised she'd been staring steadfastly at the ground until Aemond tipped her chin up with a single elegant finger and pressed their lips together. The kiss was one of barely repressed hunger that spoke to Aemond's passion for her, she was glad had never seemed to dwindle. But she lightly pushed him away with a startled laugh, aware this was not the sort of kiss appropriate for members of the small council to see as they left the chamber.

"Not here, Aemond."

Aemond's gaze turned steely, his voice commanding.

"Yes, here."

And then he was kissing her again, just as feverishly as the first time, one large hand on the small of her back so she was pressed against him. Sighing and finding it increasingly difficult to care who saw them at the intoxicating feeling of Aemond's soft lips on hers, Y/N gave in fully and melted against Aemond. It was a cough that startled them both enough for the couple to break apart.

Aemond directed the full force of his icy gaze on Ser Criston Cole, an eyebrow raised expectantly.

"We have matters to discuss, my Prince."

To Y/N's slight disappointment, Aemond reluctantly released her, briefly pressing his lips to her forehead and whispering an apology before following the hand of the king back down the hall away from her.

Aemond rapped his fingers against the council table with irritation and barely repressed impatience. He felt he had only just won his wife back to him after his transgressions, and yet he was still separated from her, trapped for hours at a time within these same four walls. He understood that he was needed as the strongest sword in the Kingdom and the rider of Vhagar, and he did not intend to shirk his duty to his family in this war. But his eagerness to prove himself, his lust for vengeance, had both diminished as he was forced to bear witness first hand to the consequences of war. Now he wished to end the war as soon as possible, whatever this required of him. His hope that the war would soon come to an end was renewed by the estrangement of Rhaenyra and Daemon. Together, as a united front, they were stronger. Their separation had weakened both their claims and their stances in the war. Aemond was also aware of ravens passing between his mother and Rhaenyra each day, and he began to think it would not be long until Rhaenyra realised her cause was a hopeless one without Daemon and his dragon. Without Caraxes, she had no dragon to counter Vhagar. His uncle Daemon posed the greater threat. Each day brought news of the castles he had taken in the crown lands, and Aemond knew he would have to face his uncle soon to put an end to the war. Part of him relished the challenge, though he feared for his love and his family, should he fail.

"We will reconvene once I have had time to consider your arguments." Aemond realised he had let his mind wander as Aegon dismissed the small council, rising quickly to try and catch a moment with his wife before other matters inevitably called him away from her. He briefly considered running in the direction of their chambers, though he could not be certain to find her there. But was pleased to see his wife already waiting outside the council chamber for him, saving him the trouble. He felt incredulous of the sheepish smile she sent his way, as if she could believe even for a moment that he wouldn't always be pleased to see her. It was a false presumption he would have to remedy. Crossing the distance between them at lightning speed, he immediately took Y/N into his arms, her light giggle as he lifted her off her feet like a warming balm to his troubled mind. He refused to let go of her even once he'd placed her back down, running his hands up and down the dip in her waist. Having to spend so much time away from her side had made him miss her soft timidity and the rosy glow of her cheeks when she blushed. He was sure he had never seen a prettier sight, and he told her as much.

"I've missed you..."

It was difficult for Aemond to hear, to know she felt his absence so keenly. But he wished her to know it was not his desire to part from her side. He recalled expressing this to her when she'd rushed to his chambers to check on an injury he'd received in training. How he'd pulled her onto his knee and told her he always wanted her that close. He had meant it then and he was determined to finish what he had begun when he had slain Luke, to put an end to this war so Y/N would never have to doubt it again.

"I know. But once the war is won, we will always be together. I give you my word."

Though Y/N nodded, he could see the sadness her eyes held, the loneliness swimming in them, and he so desperately wanted to comfort her. Lightly tipping her chin up he pressed their lips together, trying to express with this kiss that he missed her too, that he loved her more than it was possible to say. Aemond felt himself groan in frustration as Y/N pushed him away with a laugh, despite the sweeteness of the sound to him.

"Not here, Aemond."

Was that all that concerned his wife? That people might see them? Aemond was a prince of the realm. They would just have to accept it as far as he was concerned or turn away if they did not. He wouldn't waste the precious few opportunities he had with Y/N of late worrying about tempering his affectation for her to meet the standards of others. And he would not allow her to feel any shame from the ardency of his love for her either. He was resolute on this matter.

"Yes, here."

He captured her soft lips again before she could raise any other ridiculous objections about him expressing his love for her, trying to convince her with each brush of his lips against hers how little the opinion of others mattered. He was glad this did not seem to take long as she pressed herself closer to him and sighed against his lips. Aemond could barely repress his anger at Ser Criston when he interrupted their embrace with his ill timed cough, trying what little patience he had left.

But, much to Aemond's chagrin, the hand of the king was right, they had pressing matters to discuss that could not wait. If Rhaenyra would not cede her claim, then they had plans to take Rook's Rest. This did not make it any easier for him to walk away from his wife when he could so plainly see her disappointment as he stepped away from her.

Aemond cursed as he faltered slightly midstep, hurrying back to his chambers for the evening. Darkness had long since cloaked the Red Keep in it's cold embrace, but he'd had no chance to escape from his duties until the hour had grown far too late for him to reasonably hope to spend any time with his beloved wife. He opened the door to their chambers tentatively, his tread quiet, the silence within a clear sign that Y/N had already retired for the evening. Aemond smiled at the image of Y/N curled up on the chaise, the book she'd been reading now sprawled on the ground, as if she'd been trying to stay awake for him. His heart warmed at the gesture, realising this must be true. Stepping forward, he crossed the room in measured strides, determined not to wake her but to situate her more comfortably if he could. Gathering her up into his arms, he'd only taken a few steps towards placing her on the bed before she was blinking up at him with bleary eyes. Any residual sleepiness was quickly replaced by a look of panic Aemond couldn't understand as Y/N urgently patted his shoulder.

"Put me down. Quickly."

Confused and a little put out by the less than warm reception, Aemond nonetheless placed Y/N back on her feet. Not a moment later, she had wrenched herself from his grip entirely, doubling over and holding her hand over her mouth. Alarmed, Aemond made to move towards Y/N only to be stopped in his tracks when she held a hand up to him.

"No don't, I'll be alright in a moment."

"If you are unwell, I shall call for a maestor."

Aemond was already moving towards the door, his own anxiety rising at the thought of his love being taken from him by some illness. Y/N's hand gripping his halted him once again as she weakly tugged him back towards her. "I'm not ill, Aemond."

Though Y/N had lowered her hand from her mouth and was now standing up straight, he was unconvinced by the greenish tinge of her pallor, frowning at her disregard for her health. It was not something he could so easily dismiss.

"I find that difficult to believe, my love."

Y/N closed her eyes, breathing deeply perhaps to fight off any remaining nausea.

Stepping closer to her and taking both her hands in his, Aemond lowered his voice to a gentle and encouraging whisper.

"Whatever is the matter, you can tell me my darling girl."

Y/N nodded, though her features only grew more pained and anxious by the second and he noted that she would not meet his eye though he tried to chase hers.

And then he felt his heart momentarily stop.

"I'm pregnant."

Y/N awoke with a start as she felt herself being lifted into the air, followed seconds later by a sharp pain shooting through her abdomen. Her brief confusion was short lived as she came to terms with two important facts. She'd fallen asleep in her attempt to wait for Aemond to return..and now she was going to throw up on him.

That thought had her frantically attempting to pull away from him in a frenzy of flurried movement and urgent cries for him to put her down, leaving him looking more than a little perplexed and put out with her. As soon as she was placed upright, Y/N launched herself away from Aemond, clamping a hand over her mouth in a desperate attempt to push down the bile she could feel rising in her throat. She didn't want this to be the way he found out about her condition. By the grace of the Seven, her concerted effort to take deep breaths was reducing the overwhelming nausea that had washed over her, leaving behind the realisation that she'd have to explain her strange behaviour to her husband, who seemed seconds away from bolting from the room to fetch the nearest maester. That didn't make it any easier to reveal the truth, and just like every other time she'd attempted to share her secret with Aemond, she became tongue-tied and nervous about his reaction. But when he held her hands so gently, squeezing them encouragingly, and spoke to her so softly, she lost control of her speech entirely.

"I'm pregnant."

As soon as she blurted out her confession she regretted it, for every muscle in Aemond's body seemed to freeze as his mouth fell open...and though several seconds passed in agonising silence he said nothing, only staring at her, frozen in either shock or horror.

Ripping her hands from Aemond's hold, Y/N turned her back to him, covering her face with her hands and ineffectively pressing her palms against her eyes to staunch the flow of tears and her crushing dissapointment at her husband's reaction. It had been worse than she had even feared. Her soft sniffles must have broken the spell that had frozen Aemond in place as she soon heard his boots clicking against the cold marble floor as he moved around her, warm large hands wrapping around her own to prise them from her face. Y/N fought against his attempts, not wanting to see the look of disappointment on his face she was sure she'd find.

"Look at me, please." He did not sound angry at least, rather uncertain. Did he think she'd lied to him? Would he have rather she had?

Reluctantly allowing Aemond to pull her hands back down to her sides, she was surprised to see what looked much more like wonder than horror in Aemond's eye, an almost dreamlike expression on his handsome features.

"Are you quite certain?" Y/N heard a definite tremble in his voice, and she nodded simply in response, not understanding his sudden change in demeanour. When he said nothing still, the only change being the widening of his eye, she felt her heart break a little more.

"Are you very unhappy with me?"

Aemond looked like he'd had a bucket of ice water thrown on him and had been abruptly woken from a dream. Reaching for her again and cupping each side of her face, he gazed at her with the utmost tenderness.

"Unhappy with you? I have never been more happy. Hush, my love. Don't cry. I did not mean to make you feel as if I were unhappy."

Y/N shook Aemond's hands off her and turned away from him again. She imagined she must look petulant, but she still felt hurt. Aemond's words did not reflect the fact that only moments before he'd looked completely stricken, and she feared he was only trying to appease her now.

"You looked horrified. I know it isn't the best time to bring a child into the world and there are more important matters you must attend to..."

"Nothing matters more now than you and our child."

Aemond cut her off in her ramblings, wrapping his arms around her and resting his head on her shoulder, though she remained turned away from him.

"I was surprised, but certainly not horrified. I've thought of you as a mother before when I saw you getting along so handsomly with my niece and nephew. I thought of you as the mother of my child. Even before we were married, the image was clear in my mind."

Aemond stroked a hand down her abdomen as if to convey the truth of his words, though her bump was still barely visible. Y/N twisted in his hold to face him, surprised by Aemond's admission. Seeming to sense an onslaught of questions, he continued before she could even pose one.

"I don't want you to worry about the war now. This is the happiest of news. This child...our child, is the greatest gift you could ever have given me and I will love them fiercely. I will not allow any harm to come to you or our child."

Y/N smiled, her heart warming as she observed that Aemond's one good eye glistened slightly. She could see now that she'd mistaken his reaction and nearly sighed with relief. But their shared happiness couldn't qwell her curiosity.

"You said you had thought about us having children together before."

Aemond quirked an eyebrow up at her train of thought.

"Yes." He answered, almost like a question.

Y/N swallowed thickly, thinking of how to ask her question.

"You never mentioned a wish to have children to me before. How long have you thought of it?"

Aemond's expression softened as he tenderly tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, grazing his knuckles along her cheek as he did so.

"If I'm understanding what I think your truly asking, then I'll simply tell you that as soon as I realised I loved you, I knew I wanted you to be my wife and the mother of my children. It's not a thought I had before you, everything I wish for my life begins and ends with you."

Cursing her heated cheeks, Y/N all but barrelled into Aemond, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressing her cheek into his doublet. Aemond responded to her embrace quickly, laughing at the suddeness of her actions, and began to stroke her hair softly.

Y/N was embroidering a blanket for the baby in the hazy afternoon light when Aemond bounded into their chambers grinning at her. She could tell he was brimming with excitement and had his hands curiosuly clasped behind him as if he were trying to conceal something from her view.

"I've brought you something, my love."

Y/N rose from her seat and tried to peer around him, but Aemond continuously thwarted her efforts until she finally agreed to close her eyes and hold her hands out.

"I went to the Dragon pit this morning to choose an egg for our little dragon. This one was hatched by Dreamfyre. I thought it fitting since you and Helaena are so close." Y/N felt a burst of affection rise within her at Aemond's excitement, and this act of affection towards their unborn child. She knew that it was customary for a dragon egg to be placed in the cradle of a Targaryen prince or princess, but she also understood this tradition must have a special significance for Aemond whose dragon egg had failed to hatch. The corner of her lips lifted at the nickname Aemond had given their baby.

Once the surprise object was placed into her hands she almost dropped it from the heat it exuded, almost as if it were a very large boiled egg. But eggs were never so tough and scaley...except for dragon eggs. She opened her eyes to meet Aemond's expectant look.

"Little dragon?"

Aemond's smile only widened. He knelt before her, placing his hands on either side of her waist and resting his cheek against her now noticeable bump.

"Yes, our little dragon. She'll be a fiersome dragon rider just like her father."

Y/N placed their child's dragon egg on the seat she'd just vacated. Each scale was tipped with a dark blue hue that almost blended in with it's coal black surface, ensuring that it unmistakably belonged to Helaena's dragon. She couldn't help but feel it was perfect, and she raised her hands to tangle them in Aemond's hair, running her fingers through the silver strands.

"A princess then?' Y/N asked, amused by his confidence.

Aemond nodded resolutely in her arms, tickling her abdomen as his eyepatch grazed across it.

"I am sure of it. A Targaryen princess with all the beauty and kindness of her mother."

Aemond had spent far longer than he truly had time for carefully selecting a dragon egg for his baby. It was an important tradition for his House, but to him it felt like more. He never wanted his child to feel like an outsider as he had done all his childhood with no dragon of his own. He was determined his child should never face the loneliness he had, the jeers from his own brother and cousins, that instead they should feel loved and secure, that they truly belonged.

Aemond had spoken to Y/N many times of Targaryen traditions, but he did not know until he placed the dragon egg in her hands if she would understand fully how much this simple tradition meant to him. But when she graced him with a resplendent smile, he immediately knew that somehow she did.

I want someone to spin me around like that. It just looks so fun! Also Ewan Mitchell is the nicest person ever and I briefly held his hand and I'm deceased aaaah

@ateliefloresdaprimavera

@superintenseart @youknownothingjohnwatson

@lportes-22

@sakurachan-9

@bitchyfestivalbouquet

@void21

@sapphiresandferrari

@pinkykats-place

@misspinkonmars

@idonotknowenglish

@leonesimp

@hyacinthesiss

@nanawaffles

@callsigncrushx

@zoetje2004

@jjkysnk

@ieieibhibu8

@skymoonandstardust

@truly-abysmal

#house of the dragon #house of the dragon x reader #hotd #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd imagine #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #hotd aemond #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen fluff

144 notes · View notes

stormz369 · 3 months ago

Text

☕💖 Can I Get Your Number? ☕💖 Ch 3

Jason Todd x Chubby! Reader (fem)

written with a female reader in mind, first person pov, no use of Y/N, fluffy, mild angst, will probably get NSFW later, let me know if there's anything else I should tag this with!

warnings: reader character dealing with anxiety from previous chapter (non-descriptive),hinted at trauma from fatphobia, hints of Jason's self esteem and body image issues, otherwise it's fluff central

word count: 2.2k (oops? 😅)

Chapter Selection

Ding!

I looked over at my phone, briefly considering not picking it up. When I got through my front door I had ripped my jeans off, suddenly hating everything touching me. I showered, scrubbing the night off until my skin was raw and tingling, and now I was curled up on my bed sheets, having a good cry. I didn't really want to talk to anyone right now…

Ding! Ding! … Ding!

God, whoever it was was insistent though … I sighed softly and picked it up, checking the messages:

Jason: Good morning! I am so sorry for the sudden disappearance - my phone broke on my way to visit my brother!

3:15am

Jason: Just got back into town, so I've finally got the sim card in an old one for now.

3:17am

Jason: I feel bad, I owe you a week of good mornings! 😭

3:17am

Jason: And sorry for spamming you - I just didn't want you to think the worst for a second longer than necessary…

3:18am

I stared at the screen for a long while. Jason was back … just like Red Hood said. Huh…

Me: Don't worry about it, shit happens!

3:40am

Jason: … What are you still doing up?

3:41am

I briefly considered telling him everything. Maybe it would feel good to tell someone … or maybe it would feel even worse. We didn't really know each other yet, who knew how he would react? Nausea gripped my stomach and I shook my head, taking a few deep breaths before replying.

Me: Just got home is all. Picked up a late shift tonight.

3:50am

Jason: That's a hell of a late shift, that must have sucked!

3:52am

Me: … Yeah, honestly it wasn't great… 😔

3:53am

Jason: What are you doing tomorrow?

3:54am

Me: Nothing in particular, y?

3:56am

Jason: That settles it then! No more excuses, come hell or high water I will see you tomorrow!

3:56am

I stared at the screen, not sure how to feel about that idea. I did want to see him again, but I also really just wanted to sleep for 48 hours straight…

Jason: Seriously, name a time and place. We'll do anything you want! 😁

3:59am

Me: You don't have to do that, Jason - you just got back! Don't you need to work?

4:00am

Jason: Nope! We came back a day early, so I am all yours!

4:02am

Me: … All mine, huh? 😏

4:05am

Jason: 100%! Anything you want, name it!

4:06am

Me: … Gotham City Mall, meet in front of the bookstore at … say 4?

4:08am

Jason: Perfect, see you in 12 hours! Good night

4:08am

Me: Good night Jason

4:09am

I was exhausted, but couldn't seem to sleep. I was still coming down from the anxiety and adrenaline from being attacked, and now I was also nervous and tentatively excited about seeing Jason. This was the step that usually proved someone was playing games with me. I sighed softly, sliding a hand down my soft tummy. I didn't mind the way I was shaped, but other people sure had a way of making it seem like the end of the world… I silently begged the universe; let this one be good. No more games, let it be real this time…

When I finally did sleep, my dreams were filled with red. Blood all over the pavement, staining everything. Red chrome staring me down as I cried. Large hands, so gentle against my cheeks, pulling me against a warm, broad chest…

I woke with a start and peered over at my discarded clothes in a heap from the night before. Red Hood's flannel peaked out from under my ruined pants, taunting me; I was about to go on a date and I was dreaming about another man? A man I was surely never going to see again no less? That's real healthy, well done Brain.

I stepped over the clothes on the floor, not wanting to deal with the mess left over from last night, and selected a cute but comfortable outfit. I ate a quick breakfast, spent longer than I'd care to admit on my hair and makeup, and headed downstairs to catch the bus to the mall.

My anxiety grew as I approached the front doors. It’s a trick, it must be a trick. The cold air conditioning hit me in the face, a welcome respite from the summer heat, and I made my way toward the bookstore. He's a hottie, and really sweet. Or at least knows how to play sweet. He's definitely not actually interested. I could see the sign for the bookstore on the other side of the mall. And he's a Wayne too! What could a Wayne want with me?? … Oh god, I threatened them, didn't I? I told the little one I'd stab them if they came back to the table. Why did I say that???

I blinked a bit, pausing. That was him, leaned against the wall right next to the bookstore. He had actually shown up. I watched him scroll on his phone for a minute before looking up and scanning the crowd. When his eyes landed on me I continued walking toward him. He pocketed his phone, kicked off the wall, and walked over to meet me, a little grin lighting up his face.

“You're actually here…” the words left my mouth before I could reconsider, my disbelief apparent in my tone. Jason looked a bit confused at that, awkwardly rubbing the back of his head.

“Well, yeah? … You said 4, right?”

“Sorry! Yes, I said 4. I just … I honestly wasn't sure this was … real…”

“Why wouldn't it be real?”

I blushed a bit, clearing my throat slightly; “n- never mind! Sorry, I had a weird week; my brain hasn't fully caught up.”

He nodded a little, smiling gently. “Well, I hope it's getting better at least.”

I nodded. “Yeah, it is. Thanks. … So, what should we do?”

“Like I said last night; anything you want.”

“Well, … we're right here, do you want to start at the bookstore?”

He nodded and fell into step beside me, smiling gently. I could feel his eyes on me as I walked into the store, browsing the aisles. It was odd how comfortable this was; he was a good half foot taller than me, and at least 200 pounds of pure muscle. If his arms and cheek were any gauge he was absolutely covered in old scars, and he had a bandage on one forearm so whatever gave him the scars probably wasn't confined to the past.

I should be terrified - everything about my upbringing told me this was a dangerous situation to be in. But when I saw the look in his eyes, like I was the most interesting thing in the world, all of my self-defense training fell out of my head. The voices urging me to get to safety quieted, all my instincts stilled, and there was peace. His eyes were so beautiful…

“... Is there something on my face?” He blushed a bit, chuckling awkwardly.

I blinked, looking away. “Sorry! I wasn't staring, I just …”

“... Did you want to ask about this?” he pointed to the scar on his cheek.

“Huh? No! I have a policy of not asking people about stuff like that; you'll tell me or not on your own time. No, I just … I like your eyes is all …’’ I blushed brightly, staring at but not reading the back cover of a book.

“... My eyes?” I nodded, still pretending to read the back cover. “... You're really not going to ask about my scars?”

“Unless you want to talk about them, it's not any of my business.”

“... You're a very unusual girl.”

“Because I'm not going to pry about something you may or may not want to talk about, particularly on a first date?”

“Well, they're usually the first thing anyone wants to talk to me about. If they don't avoid me in the first place…”

I frowned a bit at that. If we met under any other circumstances, I would have taken one look at him and ducked my head to avoid an interaction. “... People suck…”

“It's not their fault; I'm intimidating…” I cautiously looked over at him. He was also staring at a book cover, a pensive little frown on his face.

“... I don't think you're intimidating.”

His eyes darted over and back to the book, and the corner of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. “... Thanks.”

I nodded, setting the book down. “.... So …”

“So? …”

“... Play a game?”

He chuckled, looking over at me. “A game?”

I nodded. “You tell me some of your favorite things in books, I'll tell you some of mine. We separate, select a few of our favorites that the other might like, and reconvene.”

“Alright. Is there a way to win this game?”

“Well I assume we'll each pick at least one book the other hasn't read, so we'll get to make each other read at least one of our favorites. That sounds like a win to me.”

He chuckled. “Alright. Meet back up at those comfy chairs in the back?”

I nodded, telling him some of my favorite tropes, genres, and settings. He did the same, and we darted in opposite directions. He beat me back there, but I eventually approached with a small stack, falling into the seat next to him.

He gestured toward my books; “ladies first.”

I tucked my feet under me, passing him each book in turn and making a case for it. He took each one, read the back cover, and listened intently. He had read one of them, and I figured he'd pick one of the others, if that, but he insisted he was going to get them all. When it was his turn, I wasn't entirely sure what to expect, but Pride and Prejudice wasn't the first thing that came to mind.

“I've seen a few movie adaptations, but I haven't gotten around to reading it.” I smiled softly, taking the book. It was a beautiful blue cover with swirling calligraphy font in gold.

“An unparalleled tragedy - I insist this is the one you're taking home!” I giggled at his determined tone and nodded.

“Yes, sir!” I made a little mock salute, trying not to smirk at the sudden wave of pink overtaking his face. “... Well, what else do you have for me?”

He cleared his throat awkwardly, looking at the books in his hands. “Ah, um …”

One by one he passed me Hamlet, the Three Musketeers, a book of Greek myths, and … a trashy romance?

“... Not gonna lie, this is an unexpected choice.” I read the back. It looked like your typical bodice ripper.

He chuckled, blushing a bit. “Look, it was the only book I had access to one day and I was losing my mind with boredom. But if you give it a chance, it's actually really well written, and the love interest isn't one of those creepy possessive guys the genre is known for, so …”

I nodded, taking a picture of the book covers. “I will give it a chance then!”

“... Why are you taking a picture of them?”

“... To get later? I'll start with this one, since you were so determined that I read it.” I held up Pride and Prejudice. Jason gathered up the others, putting them on his stack, then gently took Pride and Prejudice from me as well.

��Or I could just get them for you.”

“What? Jason, no. I mean, that’s really sweet of you, but that's way too much!” Between the books he'd picked out for me and the ones I'd selected for him, he was holding at least $200 in his hands. And he'd picked the pretty hardcovers too!

He shook his head. “I've had to cancel on you at least 5 times, and then I disappeared with no warning. You have been incredibly patient and understanding, and I will make today worth it.”

I blushed brightly, a bit surprised. “Jason, … you're worth waiting for. I enjoy talking to you, you don't have to spend money on me for today to be worth my time.”

He looked away uncomfortably, bright red, holding the stack of books to his chest. “... I … I like talking to you too … just let me do this, yeah? Call it a first date splurge.”

“... Alright, if you're sure. But I don't want you making a habit of this.”

He nodded, smiling softly. “Don't worry; I know you're a strong, independent woman.”

I nodded once, chuckling. “Damn right.”

Jason grinned, god he had an infectious grin, and led me to stand in line together. He held the stack of books in one hand, and we chatted a bit more while we waited for our turn. I was looking at a selection of little plushies in the impulse items when I felt something brush ever so slightly against my finger. I looked down; his trembling hand was next to mine, his pinky slightly extended toward me. I chuckled softly, extending mine toward him, and gently linked our fingers together. He stiffened ever so slightly before relaxing into it, gently squeezing back.

Next ->

Divider by @saradika (and my thanks for making them free to use!)

Taglist (let me know in the comments if you want to be added or dropped!)

@jawdropforkpop @krys0210 @snowy-violet @superthoughts @wordsfromshona

#fanfic #fanfiction #dc fanfic #fluff #jason todd #red hood x reader #dc #jason todd x reader #first person pov #first date #jason todd is adorable and awkward #batfam #batfamily #wayne family adventures #red hood #multi chapter #multichapter fic #Can I Get Your Number?

210 notes · View notes

softlymaximoff · 3 months ago

Text

I loved you at your darkest

The Sun, Moon and Stars AU

18+ ONLY MEN & MINORS DNI (blank blogs will be blocked you do not have my permission to republish my work onto any platform.

— A/N: sorry it took foreverrrrrr, no one’s dead woohoo

— Summary: without your sun, the moon could only do so much until she herself was pleading for the warmth of her lover to return.

— Characters: WandaNat x Reader

— Warnings: ANGST, serious injuries (Wanda), subtle anxiety attack, fluff (only in the beginning SORRY), close call with death (Wanda), mentions of brief Nat’s past.

— Word Count: 2.3k

The air was heavy with a dull ache that nobody dared to disturb. You were grieving, Nat was grieving, the whole compound was dreading the awaiting call from Fury himself. It had been two more weeks with Wanda gone, two weeks since Nat confessed her need for you and she hadn’t left your side. She’s follow you around like a ghost, even if she wasn’t there physically, she’d lay out some of her favourite stolen clothes from Wanda’s side of the closet for you to wear, she’d do your hair the night before and braid it like Wanda would. She’d leave sticky notes as you had been doing on random objects you commonly use and she’s even spray some of Wanda’s vanilla and honey body mist around your shared room. She was trying so hard to compensate for Wanda not being there it was painful.

Today was no different, she’d woken up from yet another nightmare about the witch in battle and pulled you in closer trying to ground herself with something but nothing was easing her worries. Your body melted into her arms instinctively and she took a deep ragged breath trying to regain her composure but when you finally opened your eyes you were quick to comfort her. “Sorry for waking you up” she sniffled and wiped her eyes harshly, stilling when you grabbed her hands and kissed her knuckles. “Don’t do that Natty, Wanda says it’s bad for your eyes” you gave her a sad smile as tears fell down her perfectly carved cheekbones. “Where is she Y/n, where is my sun” she openly sobbed into your chest and you could do nothing but comfort the upset Widow.

“She has to come back, she’s Wanda” you kissed the top of her head (much like Wanda would) and she nodded tearfully, completely pliable in your arms. You loved when she was this soft and vulnerable but you hated that it was because of the situation the three of you were in. No longer than ten more minutes had passed and she was sound asleep in your arms. Hopefully the two of you could have a little more of a sleep in considering it had just passed 5am. The next time you woke up was a much nicer and warmer reason as Natasha opened the blinds and the sun was hitting directly onto the bed. “Hi Natty” your voice hoarse from the slumber and she gracefully manoeuvred herself onto your body and kissed your cheek. “Hi malyshka” she whispered and let her body fall into yours.

“Can we make Wand’s blueberry pancakes please” she mumbled into your collarbone and you stuttered at the feeling, not used to her being this affectionate with you. “Mhm, can you pass me her hoodie” you breathed in the scent of her strawberry and rose shampoo as she matched your breathing, the two of you falling in a synchronised rhythm. The two of you finally slipped out of bed, dressing yourselves in your shared clothes, Natasha braiding your hair into two French braids and you doing her very subtle and minimal makeup while sitting in the bathroom sink. Domestic, home, loved. To be loved is to be understood and the two of you were at the point where there was nothing else in the way of breaking your trust. By the time you two made it to the kitchen, everyone had had their breakfast and were on their way to start their own days.

Natasha got the utensils, you got the ingredients and you moved gracefully around each other. The occasional banter with flour or batter had made the room light up room with love and warmth. Something the compound had been missing since Wanda’s mission. “Detka you’ve got flour in your hair I did so nicely” Nat whined playfully and gasped as you swiped batter on her lips. “Oh boo, now you’ve got pancake on your lips I glossed so nicely” you fake pouted and she rolled her eyes before surprising you with a kiss on the lips. “Now we’re matching” she held in a giggle at your shocked face.

The two of you finished up making breakfast and sat down next to each other, Natasha’s hand brushing against yours every now and then providing much needed comfort. The sound of the avengers jet made your head shoot towards the main entrance and before you could even process what it was, Natasha was already at the door swinging it open. Could it be? Was Wanda finally home? Your pancakes left on the bench and fork full of a piece was dropped, not caring about the potential mess it made. Your breathing came in quick and you were out the door with your girlfriend not far ahead of you.

In the distance you could see Tony carrying Wanda bridal style as he also limped out of the jet. She was here. Wanda was home. The minute you reached the pair you could see the damage on your Wanda. She was bruised, cut up and barely conscious but you didn’t care, she was home, alive. Natasha’s voice was the first you heard as she began harassing Tony for details but the man just heaved and groaned, mumbling something about medbay. “Nat, hey look at me Miss double agent. Take her to medbay get Bruce to check her out, she needs it bad” he panted as he transferred the witch into her arms. Steve came running out and greeted the genius with a warm but stern hug and helped him into the compound, assumingly taking him to Dr Cho.

You were speechless as you followed Nat, emotions swimming in your eyes and your heart beating abnormally fast. You didn’t care, you wanted Wanda. You stayed awfully quiet as Nat rushed her on the medbay bed, years of training for the widow prepared her to hook her up to vitals before Bruce got to the room. “Read her over Bruce please” she was desperate, her voice wavered and she choked back a sob. She needed Wanda and you knew it so you stayed by the door watching your girlfriend worry about her love. You could feel your heart tightening each time Nat choked on her sobs, your chest was hammering with an uneven rhythm and your head was swimming with thoughts but you held it all in. Silent tears fell onto your cheeks and you rubbed at them hastily, not wanting to draw attention to yourself, Wanda was in pain and you were selfishly upset when you were completely fine.

“She’s a fighter Nat, she’s barely conscious, I hate to be the one to say it but if the boys had waited any longer I’m not sure it would have been the same welcome home, you’d hoped for” Bruce admitted quietly as he put her on a higher drip and pretty much an oxygen mask as you’d briefly peered over the two standing over the medical bed. He stitched up her upper right forearm as a deep gash revealed itself when the makeshift bandage was removed and you held in a guttural sob at the sight. She was completely broken, every inch of her body was covered in bruises and scratches and you hated it. It made you physically sick, the fact that she was out there and almost died was a realisation you never wanted experience again. You heard muffled talking in the room and tried to understand what they were saying but the sound of your own heart beating in your ears and the small tremble in your body made you completely unable to focus as to what their conversation actually was.

A soft touch to your chin made you recoil back and tense up as your eyes darted to the intruder in front of you. “Hey, hey look at me, that’s it there you go. Hi baby. She’s okay kotenok, she’s okay” Natasha whispered in the silence of the room and your composure broke. You crashed yourself into your girlfriend’s arms and let out (what Natasha thought) the most heartbroken yet relieved sob she’d ever heard as the series of emotions washed over you like a freight train. “She- she’s okay. Wanda’s okay” you choked back on your tears and struggled to get some air in, Natasha rubbing a soothing hand along the small of your back. “Yeah malysh, yeah she is” she kissed your temple and just held your fragile form, humming one of Wanda’s familiar Sokovian lullabies. “I’ll leave you ladies to it, she’s okay, bandaged up properly and should be up in a few hours” Bruce smiled sadly at the scene he just witnessed and made his exit, closing the door in an act of privacy and calling out to F.R.I.D.A.Y to limit the access to the medbay rooms, only allowing the two of you and himself in case of emergency to enter.

Natasha brought you to the edge of Wanda’s bed and grabbed your reluctant hand, placing on top of Wanda’s chillingly cold one. “She’s home” she murmured behind you and silent tears ran down your cheeks. It was silent for a while, Natasha opting to sit on the end of the bed, patting the space between her la for you to sit. You leaned right back into your girlfriend’s front, lap rubbing circles on the back of Wanda’s hand to ground yourself. “Hi Wands” your voice was small and hesitant,afraid if you spoke any louder she’s break even more. “You were really brave” you spoke again, finding an odd comfort in the moment. “Our brave girl” Nat spoke behind you and you smiled genuinely, hearing the love in her voice. You knew she was never good with showing her heart to people but with you two, she had grown to learn how to love without needing to say much.

A few more hours passed in the room, Wanda’s breathing seemed to steady itself into a normal rhythm and her skin was warmer to the touch. It was nearing 4pm and your eyes were slowly slipping shut. With Natasha now playing with your hair and the patterned beeping of the lab machine, you were caught in a trance. The smallest movement from Wanda’s fingered had you shooting up straight in your girlfriend’s lap and you both froze, was she waking up? The room fell tense as you waited for another movement from the ginger and you wanted to scream in joy as her hand moved again. “Hi moya lyubov” Natasha whispered in hope of a chance of Wanda coming out of her barely conscious state.

Another movement caused you to turn around and look at Natasha (who had tears in her eyes), smiling up at her and nodding your head, turning back to Wanda who had her brows slightly furrowed now. “We’re right here Wanda, forever and always” you continued to talk to her, attempting to encourage her to wake up. A soft groan fell out of her lips and you breathed out a relieved cry. “Hi baby” you choked out, feeling Natasha shift behind you and come around to the side of the bed. She crouched down so she was eye level with her girlfriend and kissed her temple. Another groan rippled throughout the room and her eyes squinted open.

“Wanda” Natasha sniffled and rubbed at her eyes quickly, not wanting to turn the attention on her but onto her injured girlfriend instead. “Tasha” oh god her voice. It was hoarse and dry but you’d take it over any day if it meant you’d actually get to hear it and not the flatline of the monitor. Natasha openly cried now, instant relief washing over her features as she bumped her nose gently on the tip of Wanda’s. the sight was more than what you could have asked for. From a little girl trained to not show love or emotions, she was a completely different little girl in this moment. She was glowing, she was full of love that only the two of you ever got the liberty to see. She was absolutely beautiful and broken, she was whole. She had found her Sun. You had found your moon and they had found their Star.

Wanda had turned to you, sporting an exhausted smile and a subtle head nod, ushering you closer to her and Nat. “Hi baby” she rasped out and kissed the tip of your fingers. “Hi Wands” you tearfully sniffled and kissed her nose in return, Natasha watching the two of you with a gentle smile taking in the scene. What you didn’t fail to notice was the subconscious taps of Natasha’s fingers on Wanda’s forearm, three consecutive taps with a few seconds of pause between the pattern and you gave her a soft smile knowing how hard it was for her to express her emotions sometimes. She was showing herself to you two more and more each day, and that was one of the many little things that made your heart fill with pride.

She had learned how to show love to the people who appreciated her, just like the Moon. She was the light in your darkness and the comfort in the unknown. She just needed someone to show her her own worth like the Sun and Stars. The sun loved her so much that she gave some of her own brightness for the Moon, promising to count on her during dark times. Her moonlight shone so bright that all the stars in the universe wanted to mirror her and giver her the same appreciation she did to the sun. Shining bright and creating an array of little moons surrounding her with a mirrored reflection of love. Together the three became every artist’s and poet’s dream. A love story so pure and so delicate no one dared to interfere with.

#sun moon stars au #natasha romanoff x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x nat x reader #wandanat #wanda maximoff x natasha romanoff #wandanat x reader #wanda x natasha #natasha x you #wanda x you #natasha x reader #wanda x reader

160 notes · View notes

redr0sewrites · 5 months ago

Text

i love you most - Jason Todd x reader

🥀A/n: based on this, basically this is jason comforting u when ur having an anxiety attack

🥀Word Count: 1k

🥀Cw: anxiety, slight disassociation, angst to fluff, incredibly self indulgent

acknowledging that it was a chemical imbalance was one thing, but using it as an excuse was another. you knew you should have taken your medication, you knew you shouldn't have stayed up so late, and you knew that pushing yourself too far would make you anxious, and yet you did it anyway. blame and guilt wriggles its way deep into your chest, lodging itself like a stone in your stomach and refusing to let go of its chokehold on you.

a small part of your mind, that sounds suspiciously like your lovers voice, whispers that it's not your fault. that your valid and loved. but the louder, raging, violent anxiety drowns out that tiny voice, like a tumultuous storm engulfing a small boat.

the only sound within the darkness of yours and Jason's shared bedroom is your own ragged, heavy breathing. you bite down on your lip hard enough to draw blood, struggling to muffle your noises. it was bad enough that you had let yourself get anxious again, for no real reason at all, but it would be even worse if you woke up Jason. it was so rare that he got to sleep so comfortably besides you, and it wasn't fair to him.

it wasn't fair at all.

and yet, that didn't stop you from selfishly wanting him. attempting to self soothe, you start rocking in place, ignoring the tears welling in your eyes and the lump in your throat. you were barely aware of your nails digging into your scalp, fisting themselves into your hair as your breathing refuses to level out. tears of frustration slide down your cheeks, you hate this, you hate feeling this way. the anger only makes you cry harder, but at this point you can't even bring yourself to care.

your barely aware of rustling besides you, too engulfed in your own self depricating thoughts to notice Jason stirring.

"baby? you okay?" he murmurs, voice husky from sleep.

no. no no no no no. you weren't supposed to wake him, it was selfish, it was wrong, he was asleep and never got to rest and it wasn't fair-

"hey. hey, it's okay, its okay- fuck-" Jason sits up, immediately moving to place a comforting hand on your shoulder before stopping himself.

"can i touch you?" he whispers, and you nod fervently, collapsing against his chest with a soft sob as he wraps his arms around you. one hand rubs up and down your back while the other cups your face. your nails dig into his sides, pulling him impossibly close, but he doesn't even flinch.

"shh, shh, 's okay, i got you doll, i've got you. its okay." his words help soothe the raging storm in your head, but it isn't enough. guilt is still bubbling inside you, and you cry harder, sobs wrenching from deep within your chest.

"m sorry, 'm so sorry- hic- i can't-"

"shh, i know, it's okay. you don't have to be sorry, it's okay." his voice is calm and steady, like an anchor that weighs you down and keeps you steady. he continues rubbing your back, holding you as you rock back and forth, struggling to breathe. instead of digging into your own skin, Jason subtly makes sure your hands stay firm on his sides or back, where you couldn't do yourself any harm. its not long before you begin to level out, and Jason, as attuned as ever, notices as well.

"i need you to breathe for me, is that okay?" you nod, and he grabs one of your hands, and places it on his chest. "just breathe at the same time as me. it's going to be okay, i promise." you nod numbly, listening to his instructions without a second thought. you shake and threaten to burst into tears as your breathing refuses to regulate, but you swallow hard, refusing to succumb to the anxiety once again.

you hiccup a little as you begin to get more grounded. you've exhausted yourself, and you slump against Jason out of pure and utter fatigue. your breathing matches him almost perfectly, and you can hear his heart beat rhythmically in your ear.

"i'm so sorry for waking you," you whisper, voice cracking slightly as you speak. "i tried to stop it, i really did, im sorry-" Jason cuts you off by wrapping his arms even tighter around you, nestling you into the crook of his neck and pressing a kiss to the top of your head.

"don't apologize. i want you to wake me up, i promise. i would much rather have you wake me up so i can help you than leave you to suffer in silence..." he trails off, and you sigh.

"m sorry."

"s'ok. i get it. you should go to sleep," he accentuates his words with another kiss on the crown of your head, squeezing you impossibly tighter. "you look exhausted."

Jason lays down on his chest, pulling you with him so that your laying on top of him. you're quick to snuggle in close as sleep sounds very nice at the moment, and with your anxiety mostly gone, exhaustion had appeared in its wake. Jason rubs your back absentmindedly as you begin to drift. your eyes are burning from all the crying, and you soon find yourself much less than conscious.

just as sleep begins to claim you, Jason speaks in a low rumble.

"i love you, doll. i hope you know that."

mustering up all of the strength you have left, you giggle softly. "i love you more," you whisper, inhaling his comforting scent.

"not possible. i love you most."

un proof read and un checked because um. yea. based on a real life scenario except there was no Jason and i made up with this mini fic idea in my head instead of actually coping lmao. i tried to keep the cause of the anxiety very ambiguous to appeal to readers, but overall this was definitely very self indulgent and based on my own personal experiences w anxiety. anyways!!!! hope u enjoyed, MY 2K EVENT REQS ARE DEFINITELY STILM OPEN I NEED MOREEE HEHE

264 notes · View notes

froggiewrites · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I saw that your requests were open and I couldn't wait to jump on the ask train aahhhh >< If it's ok with you, can I request for hurt/comfort with GN!reader x Ace? Prompt is: Ace survived Marineford physically, but mentally and emotionally, he's relapsing due to everything that's happened. Reader tries to comfort him while he has an anxiety attack maybe :((

If this request is too triggering for you, then no worries! Hope you have a good day ^^

~ 🍂 ace's widow ♠️

This was the first request in my inbox, and what a perfect one to start with! Thank you so much for sending it in, I loved writing this. I love writing anything for Ace, and honestly as someone who really struggles with anxiety this was really therapeutic to write.

Do I Deserve It?

Pairing: Ace x Reader

SFW

Summary: Ace has been struggling lately, and you do your best to help. Warnings: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Vague Suicide Ideation, Marineford Spoilers/Mention Word Count: 1.3k

Ace hadn’t been himself today.

You noticed it in the morning, when you woke to an empty, cold bed. Ace typically slept in as late as he could, his snoring being the first sound you hear every morning. After the bloody battle at Marineford, you had been waking up alone more and more. You sometimes find him alone on the deck, staring into the horizon, a distant look in his eyes. When he sees you, he usually comes back to himself, smiling his wonderful, boyish smile, though his eyes remain dim and glassy. He’s somewhere far away, locked inside his own mind, only bringing parts of himself back long enough to kiss you softly, hold your hands, and assure you he’s okay.

This morning he didn’t even notice you were there. You were worried about disturbing him, bringing him back from wherever he had gone too quickly and causing damage you didn’t know how to fix, so you gave him a little time. You found Marco, quietly letting him know that your lover didn’t seem to be in a good mindset, before making Ace a small breakfast and tea.

“I have something for you, my love.” You keep your voice quiet and soft, afraid too loud or sharp a tone will send him running like a frightened animal. His head whips around at the sound of you, his shoulders tensing even more, but he doesn’t leave. That’s something. You set the plate next to him, and gesture for him to take the steaming mug directly. He lifts his hands, ready to receive, but they’re shaking so badly they can’t even wrap around the ceramic properly.

“Ace?”

He’s looking at you, blinking just slightly too rapidly, brow beaded with sweat. He tucks his hands under his thighs, trying to hide what you’d already seen. “Thanks. You can uh–you can set it down there.” His voice is ragged, barely able to get past his quick and shallow breaths.

“My love, are you alright?” You don’t know why you ask the question when you both clearly already know the answer. You set the mug down carefully before gently reaching to untuck his hands from under his legs. You go slowly, giving him ample chance to pull away, but he allows you to take his hands in yours. They’re clammy and unsteady, fingers twitching like he’s readying himself for a fight. “What’s wrong?”

He takes in a shaky breath, trying to steady himself, then another, then another after that. Before you realize it, he’s hyperventilating, and he throws himself into you, burying his face into your neck. You press one of your hands to his chest in surprise, and you can feel his heartbeat racing beneath your fingertips. His arms tighten around you, his nose burying itself deep in your neck, and you feel a wetness against your skin.

Instead of trying to speak, you start gently running your fingers through his hair, smoothing any tangles you find. He holds you tightly and shakes for several minutes, gasping for air. You pretend you don’t hear the choked breathing against you, and pretend you don’t hear how much he struggles to speak when he finally begins to mumble against your neck. “I’m horrible.”

“What?”

“I’m horrible. Awful. I–I should have–”

“Portgas D Ace, don’t you dare say what I think you’re about to say.” You want to pull him out of your neck and force him to look you in the eyes, make him know that what he was about to wish for was the only horrible thing here, but you worry if you pull him back you’ll untether him further and he’ll completely lose himself to the fears that have clearly overtaken him. You settle for kissing the side of his head the best you can without disturbing him, and taking on a gentler but still firm tone of voice. “I’m so glad you’re still here. I can’t imagine a world without you.”

“I am too. That’s the–” He lets out an angry huff at how he’s struggling to articulate, and you see small flames lick up his back. You use one hand to slide gently down his spine, extinguishing them. “So many people died. So many. And Pops almost–” His voice cracks, and he only just barely manages to hold back the new tears forming on his lashes. “For me. Some worthless, useless kid with tainted blood. And I–I’m happy about it. How sick is that? I’m happy I’m alive, even after all of that. Happy they wanted to do that for me. I’m the worst man alive. I deserved it.”

“Ace–” You don’t quite know where to start, so you pick a thread you know you can follow. “First off, it’s only right for a father to defend his son. Pops doesn’t regret a thing, and he wouldn’t even if things had gone worse. He’d do it for you. You’re his son.”

His breath hitches again, and he lets out another quiet mumble. “I was so happy to see him. I kept telling myself it was okay, that it was better this way, but I was so happy to see him and know that I might live. Even if I didn’t deserve it. Even if things were worse with me here. I wanted to be allowed to live.”

“You are allowed to live. And every person there wanted you to. Still wants you to. You have no idea the good you’ve done, how many people you’ve helped. You’re a shining light, Ace, and none of us want you to be snuffed out.” Your hands rub soothing circles into his back, tracing lightly over the dimple at the bottom of his spine. His breathing slows slightly as his breaths get a little steadier. He’s still shaking in your arms, but less than earlier.

“I want to live. I want to keep going. But some part of me is still there, with the blade against my neck, and he’s begging for it to be over. It’s hard to ignore him.”

“I know it can be hard to hear anything over the voice in your head. But I promise you you have people here for you. I’m right here whenever you need me. Marco’s here. Pops is here. We all will help you in whatever way we can, whenever you need us. We love you, Ace, and we’re so happy you’re still with us. I would do all of it again if it meant keeping you safe, and I promise you everyone else feels the same. Even those of us who didn’t make it. We love you. We need you. We want you to live.”

You feel hot, wet tears against your neck again as he quietly cries into you. “I want to, too. I really want to.”

“So you will.”

“I will.”

You hold him for as long as he needs, long after his breakfast has gone cold and the sun has risen. The tension leaves him slowly but surely, and after a while you hear a soft snoring. You adjust him to a more comfortable position, leaning your back against the railing of the ship. You let him sleep as long as he needs, until the sun is high in the sky. Many members of the crew pass you, give soft looks of concern, but no one disturbs him.

Your talk doesn’t solve his problems, of course. They’re much bigger than a single conversation can solve. But instead of waking up to an empty bed, you start waking up to warm arms around you and a head buried between your shoulder blades or in your chest, listening to your heartbeat. You still find him on the deck, staring into the horizon, but instead of giving you a fragile smile when you find him he simply takes you into his arms, finding comfort in your presence. Rome wasn’t built in a day, and Ace certainly won’t be rebuilt in one. But there is always a first day, then the one after that, and another, until eventually you can’t remember what it felt like before the first bricks were laid. He can be happy, in time. You can’t wait to see it.

#ace x reader #portgas d ace x reader #one piece x reader #ace x y/n #ace x you #one piece

194 notes · View notes