#anyway listen to the song to feel overwhelming emotion!

[try-set-me-on-fire]

oh superman, oh judge, oh mom and dad

[buttercupshands]

never say never I guess

had a sudden "I want to draw them"

Lyrics from "The Last Goodbye" by Billy Boyd

also a warm up that led to this, wanted to try drawing them again and somehow got inspired a bit

[gayfranzkafka]

(insane post incoming) okay i've been a taylor swift re-recordings hater since the beginning but the Speak Now re-recording is making me INSANE i think it's partially just that i'm having a weird time emotionally anyway but like "Timeless" made me TEAR UP like bro WHAT like something about it being soooo essentially of that era but new like the novelty of it BONKED me over the head with a reminder of what it felt like to hear all those songs off Speak Now for the first time when i just had this IDEA of what love was & hadn't actually experienced it yet (& wouldn't for many years!!) like way before i even knew i was a lesbian just listening to taylor sing "enchanted" alone in my bedroom wondering who the guy she was singing about was & if she ever saw him again (because i was #blessed to not have internet access and therefor not know it was the dude from owl city she was singing about alsdfhaklsdhfasdh) & i remember just pouring through the little lyric booklet & its pictures & intro & mostly it was just me & the music & this picture of her in a ballgown in my head & this made up but hopeful romantic idea of what love is and like S C R E A M

[variuss-petals]

WAIT THAT'S MY COMMENT, WHAT

HOW DID I FIND OUT THROUGH TUMBLR

[emotionalsupport-ljh]

Crushing!Jihoon

Fluff - Woozi x gn!reader

I have a crush on that boy, but what if he had a crush? 🤔

Word Count: 1k

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ────୨ৎ──── ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Jihoon cannot look you in the eyes. He usually is good about eye contact because he is very polite, but if he catches your eyes, he will quickly avert his gaze anywhere else. He still likes to talk to you, but he gets overwhelmed and lost in his thoughts if he’s looking straight into your eyes. Sometimes, he tries to look at your nose, so it will at least seem like he’s looking at you, but he still finds it too cute when you wrinkle it to laugh, so he ends up looking away anyway.

Jihoon rambles. A simple “Hello” will turn into him oversharing about his weekend, favorite show, or work. He cannot stop and your patient smile only encourages him to keep going. He eventually will realize and let a sentence trail off as his face turns red. He only stops being embarrassed when you reply with the same energy. You both end up yapping as much as possible, going from topic to topic almost randomly. Anyone listening in on the conversation would get lost because it’s like you have your own language together.

Jihoon can’t flirt. At all. It doesn’t come naturally to him. If he tries to be cute, he just gets embarrassed. He’s also afraid of being seen as a creep. You lightly flirt with him and he doesn’t notice. If you turn it up a little, he either misinterprets it or gets really awkward. He claims to be a direct person or the type to just be straight-forward and tell you, but, in reality, he will take his secret crush to the grave.

Literally everyone notices when Jihoon is crushing. He doesn’t realize how obvious he is when every other topic of conversation is you or what you like or what’s going on in your life. The other members joke about it quietly, but they make sure he doesn’t know or else it would end their favorite entertainment. They find it super fun to watch him get flustered around you then turn around like nothing happened. They even try to get him closer to you or leave you two alone together, just to eavesdrop or peek into the room to witness him freak out a little.

Jihoon writes a ton of love songs. They probably won’t see the light of day and some of them are just sentences in his notes app, but every beautiful melody he thinks of is inspired by you in some way (and some of the horny ones too). Fans would say that these types of songs were written with a pink glitter gel pen which is only true in vibes. He isn’t kicking his feet and writing in twirly handwriting, but his heart is whether he likes it or not.

Jihoon pretends to be nonchalant but remembers super specific things about you. Like, he’ll hand you your favorite obscure candy from your childhood that you told him about one time four months ago, and say something like “don’t make a big deal out of it” or “i just saw this and remembered”. In reality, it took him forever to find it and he wasn’t even sure if it was discontinued or not. He was about to look up a recipe for it to make it from scratch, but he found it, ordered it, then waited like a kid on Christmas for the package to arrive. He gives maximum effort for small details and pretends like it’s nothing.

It’s a lot easier to get Jihoon to open up than you think. He claims that he doesn’t want to burden anyone with his emotions when they are heavy, and he doesn’t always want to share his feelings so outwardly, but if you ask him like twice, he’ll tell you all about it. You can visibly see his shoulders un-tense when he tells you about his struggles. He trusts you and can’t keep anything from you. He’s also just bad at lying, so you can tell something is up with him almost immediately.

Jihoon doesn’t like physical touch BUT ONLY when he isn’t expecting it. He has to initiate the touching for it to be okay. You once tried to place your hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off instinctively. Later, he held onto your arm absent-mindedly. You learn to give him his space and wait for him to start anything physical. Once he does, you can reciprocate easily. He likes to put his arm behind you while sitting on the couch. You lean into him and he doesn’t flinch or move or anything. He touches you more often than anyone else which makes his crush on you so painfully obvious.

Jihoon has a Libra Venus in his astrology chart. From the moment he realized he liked you, he immediately envisioned your entire future together complete with four versions of a wedding, a life with kids, a life without kids, what your cat’s names would be, and every time he could tell the world that a song was dedicated to you. He thinks about different ways he could ask you on a date like he’s Doctor Strange looking into possible realities. It was easy for him to get a crush on you, and he can’t help but imagine it when he closes his eyes.

Jihoon is oblivious. You obviously like him and everyone can see it except for him. You always smile when he talks or laugh at his stupid jokes. You’re always caught up on his favorite anime (which you enjoy as well) just so that when he finally does watch them, you are ready to talk about it at a moment’s notice. You call him every night to make sure he’s wrapping up at work, and you offer to buy him food if he hasn’t eaten. You are one of the only reasons he takes a day off or goes outside to have fun when he’s not working. You’re always ready with a plan to hang out together. You want to be with him all the time. You stick to him like glue. And he just thinks that you're his really good friend. He can’t imagine that his crush likes him right back.

[planetkiimchi]

send my love | l.jh

featuring: music producer!jihoon x musician!reader, secret relationship

word count: 936 words

summary — jihoon accidentally exposes your relationship with a slip of his tongue… in front of an entire school of students.

author’s note: had sm fun writing this and doing the bonus part <3 inspired by the songwriter that came to my school today!

Jihoon stands backstage, listening to the first few seconds of your song, “breaking down walls”, play. When it stops playing, the chorus of voices doesn’t stop, and he’s shocked to hear the students singing the lyrics to the song the two of you co-wrote together, their voices loud and clear in the multi-purpose hall.

He’d thought it would stop, but he swears only the first 3 seconds of the song were played, yet they sing all the way to the chorus before stopping.

Still in a daze, he barely notices when he’s signalled to go onstage, but he pulls himself together and does exactly that. He’s prepared a presentation for the students, to let them know a little bit more about songwriting and how he came to write songs, and a few tips he has for anyone who might be looking to become a songwriter.

He was invited to speak because your song was a top hit, and the lyrics were about breaking down the barriers of mental illnesses with the help of medication, proper treatment, good relationships and healthy coping strategies.

Mental health is something that he’s struggled with for a while. Every time he feels low, and his mental health is waning, he writes a song about it.

He writes about other things, but his favourites are probably the songs that he writes coming out of a slump caused by executive dysfunction, when he manages to get his life back on track again.

The school he’s visiting is holding activities for mental health week, and this presentation he’s giving is among the last few before they wrap up the week.

Of course, Jihoon mentions you in his presentation, because you’re the singer of “breaking down walls”, a song that the two of you wrote over a series of months, rarely exiting the studio except occasionally to get food. He probably calls you stunning a couple of times—he can’t remember, but he’s always found you the better looking between both of you anyway. You’re also more popular, so he apologises that you can’t be there because you’re busy preparing for your concert the day after.

He was nervous getting onstage to speak to such a large audience, and he can’t say he’s ever been gifted at public speaking, but he thinks he does an okay job. The crowd is relatively quiet, and he hopes the soft buzz is just the students excitedly talking about the content of his presentation.

When he’s finished delivering his points, one of the music teachers that he briefly met backstage comes onstage. Two students bring out two chairs for the two of them to sit, and the Q&A segment starts.

Jihoon feels that this is the part he was most nervous for. Before getting onstage, he wondered what he would say when asked about this song. It’s very close to his heart, and while he’s co-written a different song before, with a different friend, about mental health too, it wasn’t really the same. It’s hard to explain, but the you and his other friend have different styles, and he thinks “breaking down walls” holds a special place in his heart. It’s truly an irreplaceable song.

Because of how important “breaking down walls” is to him, Jihoon finds it difficult to articulate his emotions without feeling extremely overwhelmed, and he’s afraid tears may start flowing if he thinks too much about it.

However, his fears are eased when the teacher begins speaking. The teacher asks Jihoon simple questions like what’s his favourite song he’s written, and one of your songs that he finds criminally underrated.

These are easy to answer; he barely hesitates before launching into a full-blown explanation for his two choices, and he’s bolstered by the cheers of agreement from the students.

Jihoon gets really into it when asked about “breaking down walls”, managing to word his feelings without getting too emotional. After all that worrying, he’s impressed with himself when he manages to phrase it as “writing lyrics from the bottom of his heart, with all of his soul”, expressing his gratitude for all the support the two of you have received for this song.

As the teacher brings the Q&A segment to a close, the students burst into a round of applause. Jihoon thinks you might want to see how much admiration they have for you, so, taking out his phone, he says, “I’ll send Y/n my love—I mean, your love.”

He doesn’t blush, but his palms grow sweaty. He subtly wipes them on his lap before hitting the “record” button on his phone.

”Hey, Y/n. I hope you’re having a good time preparing for the concert. There are some people who’d like to say hi to you.” He smiles, thinking about how you’ll look receiving his message in the middle of rehearsals, hoping he can give you a boost in energy.

He turns the camera around to show the students, who—to their credit—cheer so loudly his eardrums feel like they’re going to burst. When he turns it back to himself, Jihoon says, “That’s all I have to say. Enjoy the rehearsals!”

He stops recording, and turns to the students. “I’ll send it to them and let you know. Thank you so much for having me.”

He’s escorted away from the venue with a gift from the school, but all he can think of is the way he slipped up onstage. He still sends the video, but he receives a notification on X first.

Clicking it open, he finds something that makes his face turn pink. He’s glad he slipped up, after all.

—

Bonus (the tweet in question):

[quibbs126]

So I’ve been making this

So basically last night, I was listening to some music, specifically Not Gonna Die by Skillet, more specifically a version on YouTube with the intro (because I’m not the biggest fan of Good to be Alive where the intro actually is). Anyways, when it’s night, my imagination tends to be more active and I tend to have more energy. While listening to the song, I eventually got this mental image in my mind of this scene with Dark Choco, and the more it crystallized the more I wanted to draw it. I was going to go to sleep and maybe do it in the morning, but I realized that I probably would forget the vibe and not have as much energy, so instead I decided to power through and draw the idea

It was a bit difficult since I had limited references for the pose I wanted, and I suppose I can admit the sword looks a bit off anatomically, but it looks good enough I think, and lets me keep the eyes revealed

I did eventually have to stop drawing, because my iPad had been worked all the way down to 4% (and it was at 30% when I started, the poor thing), not to mention it was around 11:30 already which is pretty late for me, and my earbuds had been running nonstop for over 2 hours (yes I was listening to the same song, it’s how I keep the vibe). I was at least able to get the pose, base colors and lineart done, and I’m still pretty proud of where I left things last night

Today was mostly just doing the background and lighting, which admittedly I may have fumbled. I’m not very good at backgrounds and I didn’t know how to draw lightning. I tried my best, but honestly I don’t think I got the image in my head. Didn’t help that my brain was playing the wrong Skillet song this morning

Oh yeah and by the way, the background is supposed to be from this. That’s what I used as reference

The lightning both feels like too much and too little. Like, it’s crowding the picture, and I can’t have more because it’d be way too crowded with it, but also at the same time, it doesn’t feel like enough, like there isn’t as much power as I wanted

Actually wait, maybe I can add some small particle effects to like, enhance the lightning feel. That was in the original sketch but I omitted it in the final. If you see one with that, you know I did that

Edit: I did indeed do that

To be fair though, I don’t think I have the art skill to properly convey the image in my head. Basically the scene is that Dark Choco is using absolutely every amount of his power for this final swing down, so much that it’s too powerful and the Strawberry Jam Sword completely shatters. But also it’s too powerful that Dark Choco’s body simply can’t handle it, and he basically ends up exploding. The scene depicted would be the wind up to that final swing that destroys the both of them

This isn’t necessarily the first time I’ve come up with this scenario, and the setup would basically be that he turned on the Cookies of Darkness slightly earlier, because he didn’t want to destroy his homeland again, and he tried to get rid of them while in the kingdom but not yet at the Citadel, but he ended up failing, so with nothing to lose, he chases after them and decides to put everything into destroying them, even if it likely ends in his death. After this he probably killed Pomegranate and crippled Licorice in some way (I don’t think he’d attack Poison Mushroom), so his final act did have some effect, but he’s still dead by the end of it. And he and his father never got the chance to properly reconcile because Dark Choco thought that could never be a possibility anymore and he had resigned himself to his fate

But yeah, I just don’t know how to convey that sheer overwhelming power and emotion that this scenario suggests. I tried my best though

I also want to submit this to the Dark Cacao Forever contest, but I’m not sure if it’s good enough for it. What do you think?

[torahoes]

(IDOLiSH7) Haruka Isumi - 16PRODUCERS Rabbit Chat

Please note that I am not a professional translator. If you come across any mistakes, feel free to let me know and I will make the necessary corrections.

Haruka Isumi:

Haruka Isumi:

Haruka Isumi: Oh, you read it already

Torao Mido: What’s this? You’re early, Haruka

Haruka Isumi: So are you! Are you done with your shoot already?

Torao Mido:

Torao Mido: Are you happy?

Haruka Isumi: I'm

Haruka Isumi: I'm not not happy....

Haruka Isumi: 😑😑😑

Torao Mido: What's with that, lol

Haruka Isumi: It’s nothing!!! 😑

Torao Mido: I was supposed to do the interview during my commute, but the shoot ended earlier than expected, so I’ve got some time to kill

Torao Mido: Your text popped up the moment I opened my phone.

Haruka Isumi: Hmmmmm

Haruka Isumi: We’ve still got time. Wanna talk about something?

Torao Mido: Let’s play Word Chain [1]

Haruka Isumi: LMAO

Haruka Isumi: Are you looking to lose to me again? 🥴

Torao Mido: I'm determined to win this time. I’ve come prepared with a strategy

Haruka Isumi: That's hilarious lolol

Haruka Isumi: Well, whatever 🥴 I'll take you on! Let's start with the letter “L”!

Torao Mido: Lip

Haruka Isumi: Princess

Torao Mido: Soup

Haruka Isumi: Print

Torao Mido: Tomato ketchup

Haruka Isumi: Wait, why do you keep attacking me with words that end with "P"?!?!?!?!

Torao Mido: That’s right. Now you know I’m not the same person you're used to facing. I’ve even overcome my fear of “H”

Haruka Isumi: Why am I being repaid for that one time right now!!!

Haruka Isumi: Plastic!

Torao Mido: Crepe

Haruka Isumi: UGHHHHHHH [2]

Shiro Utsugi: Great work today, you two! Are you getting fired up talking about foods starting with “P"?

Shiro Utsugi: Pudding! I’ve been really into it lately. The firmer ones are just so delicious

Haruka Isumi: Oh

Shiro Utsugi: Eh?

Torao Mido: Guess the game’s over now

Shiro Utsugi: Wait, were you playing Word Chain?! Ahhhh, I’m so sorry!! I totally ruined it for you guys!!!

Haruka Isumi: Not at all, it's fine. Actually, I should be thanking you!! 🥴 You saved me from losing

Torao Mido: That’s alright, I’ll just keep honing my skills for the next time

Haruka Isumi: And I’ll just beat you again then! Anyway, isn't it time already? Let's begin, Utsugi-san!

Shiro Utsugi: Thank you very much 😭 Once again, we’ve been asked to capture your usual relaxed interactions, so we'll be conducting the interview in this format using Rabbit Chat!

Shiro Utsugi: Isumi-san, please tell us how you felt when you heard Mido-san would be producing you!

Haruka Isumi: To be totally honest, I really had no idea how he was going to go about producing me!

Haruka Isumi: I mean, when I think about how Torao sees me, I imagine stuff like “good at singing,” “knows a lot about sweets,” or “really good at Word Chain.” I figured he’d be thinking along those lines lol 🤔

Torao Mido: Yeah, I guess we've never really had a proper conversation about what I think you're like as an idol and all that

Torao Mido: But after listening to the song, did you get a sense of how I see you?

Haruka Isumi: Mhm. I mean, sorry if I’m wrong, but...

Haruka Isumi: Torao, do you maybe actually like me quite a bit...?

Torao Mido: Well, it's not like I dislike you, right!? What do you take me for?

Haruka Isumi: RIGHT!? That's what I thought too... it's just that the lyrics and melody were so straightforward

Haruka Isumi: It felt like you really captured me in a song. Even though it was my first time hearing it, it didn’t feel like the first time at all

Shiro Utsugi: It really is a passionate song with a strong message! Mido-san, could you please share how you decided on the direction?

Torao Mido: Haruka has always been radiant

Torao Mido: He never lies to himself about his feelings. Whether he's happy or sad, he expresses those emotions openly. I've always kind of admired that about him.

Torao Mido: He possesses the kind of overwhelming power that can pierce through the pitch-black night and propel us toward the bright blue sky. Haruka was always at the forefront, leading us to brighter places. Like a hero.

Torao Mido: I packed that strength of his into "Aoku."

Haruka Isumi: You think I’m like a hero?

Torao Mido: Yeah.

Haruka Isumi: I see... I didn't know. It’s pretty rare for you to say such things openly, so it makes me really happy

Torao Mido: I'm glad we're doing this over Rabbit Chat

Haruka Isumi: I’d rather you said it to my face!!!

Torao Mido: No way! That’d be way too embarrassing.

Haruka Isumi: Well, fair enough 😆 But y'know, I think you’re like a hero too, Torao

Torao Mido: Me?

Haruka Isumi: You faced your feelings, your scars, head-on. Ever since that day, you’ve challenged yourself in so many ways and expanded the possibilities for us — for ŹOOĻ. You’re seriously so cool

Torao Mido: Well

Torao Mido: I really am cool.

Haruka Isumi: We’re cool, you mean!

Torao Mido: Yeah. We’re cool!

Shiro Utsugi: I am currently taking a screenshot of this conversation.

Haruka Isumi: Ah, I should too!

Torao Mido: Guess I’ll do it too, then.

Shiro Utsugi: No matter what the future holds, I'm sure ŹOOĻ will be just fine. And if you ever feel disheartened, please reread the Rabbit Chats from this project.

Shiro Utsugi: Though, of course, I’ll do my best to make sure that doesn’t happen...!

Haruka Isumi: Thanks. We're counting on you, Utsugi-san

Torao Mido: Please keep looking out for us

Shiro Utsugi: ŹOOĻ is the best!

Haruka Isumi:

Torao Mido:

Haruka Isumi: It’s kinda funny seeing Torao use King Pudding stickers lmao

Torao Mido: Come on. What’s wrong with using them once in a while?

Shiro Utsugi: This happens to me as well. Whenever I use stickers while chatting with the staff, they always ask, "Is something wrong?" with concern. I guess some things just suit certain people while others don’t

Haruka Isumi: Yeah, if Utsugi-san suddenly sent me a sticker while we were talking, I’d probably wonder what was up too

Torao Mido: But his emoji choices are already so weird; isn't it too late to be surprised?

Shiro Utsugi:

Haruka Isumi: That’s kinda cute lmaoo

Shiro Utsugi: Let’s get back to the main topic. Next, I’d like to ask about the photoshoot and the costumes. The use of wires and CGI really made for such a dynamic shot!

Torao Mido: I wanted to express Haruka’s energy and strength. You can really feel that sense of him piercing through the sky, right?

Torao Mido: Even in a stifling world that's buried in asphalt and moving at a dizzying pace, with Haruka's voice, we can take off and soar anywhere.

Haruka Isumi: Hehe, Torao just keeps saying things that make me super happy

Torao Mido: Was it scary? I remember you weren’t too thrilled about bungee jumping before

Haruka Isumi: At first, I was a little nervous about whether I'd do a good job, but it turned out to be SO much fun!!! I was like, “Woah, so this is how Torao always films his stunts too? That’s awesome” 😂

Haruka Isumi: Oh, and when you called out to me, saying, “I know you can do it,” it made me really happy.

Torao Mido: I meant every word. I believe in you, Haruka

Haruka Isumi: Yeah! Thanks. By the way, how did you decide on the costume? I didn’t think both my knees would be exposed like that 😆

Torao Mido: Heroes usually show some leg, don’t they?

Haruka Isumi: The heck? LOL. Then you should've had both your knees out too!!

Torao Mido: Listen. Try imagining me with both my knees out first

Haruka Isumi: It looked-

Haruka Isumi: It looked great! The Torao in my head totally pulled it off!!! 😂 LMAOO

Torao Mido: You’re laughing though, lol

Haruka Isumi: Show it to me next time, okay? 😂😂

Shiro Utsugi: Please show it to me too! 🐾 Well then, sadly, we've reached the end of the interview. Before we wrap up, could I ask the two of you to share a final message with your fans?

Torao Mido: I’m sure you fans have noticed it as well. When you listen to Haruka's voice, it stirs up an impulse within you, a feeling that makes it impossible not to keep moving forward. Haruka's voice guides us.

Torao Mido: From there, I came to realize that even we could become someone's hero someday. The future you reach after all your struggles is bright, beautiful, and blue. I hope you guys listen to the song a lot too.

Haruka Isumi: The lyrics, “The words I caught amidst lights that emerge and fade, now dwell in my heart,” are my favorite.

Haruka Isumi: There was a time when I used to tell myself, "I'm never going to pay heed to anyone's voice", "I'm never going to let myself be swayed by someone else's words." But now I realize I was wrong.

Haruka Isumi: I’ve always been supported by our fans’ words. Whenever you said, “Thank you,” my body felt lighter. Whenever you said, “You can do it,” I honestly felt like, “Yeah, I can!”. That’s why these lyrics resonate with me so much.

Haruka Isumi: Your words always reach us directly. Thank you so much for everything! Torao called me a hero, but to me, my members and our fans are the real heroes! I’ll make sure to treasure “Aoku” together with Torao!!!

Shiro Utsugi: Thank you, Isumi-san and Mido-san. I’m very excited for ŹOOĻ’s future...!

Haruka Isumi: Me too!! Let's keep doing this together, Torao!

Torao Mido: Yeah, of course. I’m looking forward to my future with you guys.

Torao Mido: So, this marks the end of ŹOOĻ's part in this project, huh. Should we do something to celebrate?

Haruka Isumi: Good idea! Let’s have another party together! At your place, Torao!

Torao Mido: Sounds good. It’s winter, and for a big group, there’s really only one answer, right?

Haruka Isumi: Hot pot party!! 🤩

Shiro Utsugi: That sounds wonderful. If I’m not mistaken, I believe everyone’s schedules line up next week...!

Haruka Isumi: It won't be just us — Utsugi-san, you're joining too!

Shiro Utsugi: Eh, is that really okay...?! I’d be honored

Torao Mido: We’ll need a really big clay pot. Guess I'll go look for a good craftsman

Haruka Isumi: You're going to start by making the pot first? LOLOL

The End.

--------------

[1] - They're actually playing Shiritori here, the Japanese version of Word Chain, where players take turns saying words that begin with the last syllable of the previous word.

[2] - The word "Crepe" (クレープ) in Japanese ends with "Pu" (プ), so Haruka is once again frustrated to be given another word that ends with "P."

[brighttears]

Stranger Chapter 3

Joel Miller x f!reader

No physical description

Summary: After seeing you, Joel becomes overwhelmed, and breaks down as he reflects on how things used to be. You can’t help but hear it, and come to check on him, and after seeing his state, you can’t help but stay. Some of that softness returns, but it’s short lived. 

Word count: 4.9k

Warnings: Joel has a breakdown (crying), brief talk of violence and self harm, Joel really hates himself, you comfort him.

A/n: the drama!!!

series masterlist

—

Joel’s stops breathing for a moment, chills running through his body as the sound of your singing registers, eyes still peeking around through the curtains, before they finally find you, sitting on your front porch, all bundled up, smoking a cigarette. 

A wave of emotion surges through him—relief, joy, grief, dread, sorrow. He leans against the window frame, watching you, listening to you. It’s one of the few songs you always used to sing, an old Beatles song. He was never really a fan of them, but this one—well, he used to like it. Back when things were good between you and him. Nostalgia doesn’t feel the same as it once did. Now it just hurts. 

Clouds of smoke bloom in the night air between verses, your head leaned back against your wicker chair. You look peaceful. Calm. Not like you did in his presence. Another pang heavies his chest, but he can’t bring himself to move, to keep from watching, keep from listening. 

He wonders why you’re up, why you aren’t asleep, warm in bed. He wonders if you do this often, smoke and sing in the dead of night. When did you start smoking, anyway? 

The image is strangely fascinating, the layers you’re bundled up in, snuggled between the arms of the chair, the way your lips move when you blow out the smoke, the way your lashes almost touch your cheeks, looking like you’re lost in your own little world. Suddenly, he feels like a creep, like this is a private moment that he absolutely should not be watching. No way would you be happy if you knew he was. But he can’t help it. He hasn’t heard you sing in six years, and despite the discord of emotions it swirls in his chest, there’s still a strong feeling of comfort that it naturally elicits. 

Joel leans further against the window, pulling the curtain back more, taking it in. But, within moments, he regrets it, when you stop singing mid chorus, head raising from the back of the chair, and he can practically see the feeling of being watched come over you. 

“Shit.” He whispers, but something still keeps him locked in place. His eyes are stuck on you, hoping it’s not him that you noticed, that there’s some other sound or movement in the night that your eyes are scanning for, but while he glances down at the filled ashtray that you stamp your cigarette out into, you have somehow found him, and when his eyes flick back up to your face, his heart skips, caught red handed, but still, he’s frozen, your eyes locked. The moment doesn't last long before you’re bolting up and striding to your door, and he can hear it slam shut from behind the glass pane. 

Staring at the profile of your door, he feels pulled to go apologize, to brave the cold and snow in his socks and knock on your door and hope that you’ll answer, but he knows that even if you do, you won’t even let him get the I’m out before you slam the door back in his face or start cussing him out for being such a creep. Joel sighs, closing his eyes and leaning his forehead against the cold glass, almost wishing he’d just stayed in bed, shut his eyes and stayed there till morning, even if sleep didn’t come, because he’s sure this did nothing to strengthen your relationship. He can almost imagine you, seething in your house, cursing at him from next-door, and it makes his heart sink.��

He feels ashamed, foolish. He shouldn’t have been watching you, he knew you’d be upset if you knew he was. He should’ve known you’d be that fucking on edge, to be able to feel eyes on you, but damn did you find him quick. There’s almost a flicker of pride in his chest, impressed by the skill in it, but it’s quickly stamped out by all the other emotions cascading over it. Embarrassment, guilt, and more sorrow, about how things aren't what they used to be, that you’re not his songbird anymore. 

He missed your singing so much—how many empty nights has he shut his eyes tight, focusing on the memory of it? Tried to lull himself back to sleep with it? Too many to count. He was starting to fear forgetting it, not the words, but the sound of your voice, the way it would lilt, the way it would carry. But he’s found no relief in it now, just, hurt, an aching pain in his chest. Just that idea of missing you, when you’re right there, right where he is, just a few walls away—he suddenly chokes on a rough breath, clutching his chest because it hurts.

He misses those nights, in a pile-of-sticks abandoned house, or holed up in some seventh or tenth or fifteen floor, when you would both be laying there in the dark but no sleep would come, and your quiet voice would come out and sing a song, fill the dead air, even if it didn’t lull him to sleep, just to have some pause, a few minutes of gentle peace. He misses those moments when he’d flick a crumbled up scrap of paper at your face and you’d snort and chuckle and throw it back at him and you’d burst into giggles. He misses the ass-crack-of-dawn mornings, sitting in the back of that old truck deep in a field, drinking the worst fucking cups of coffee, watching the sun rise. He misses when you would grab his hand and squeeze it, even though that meant you weren’t sure if you’d make it out. He misses the stupid bickering. He misses your tears, because at least that meant that he was there. That you trusted him. That you were letting him in. 

With the cold glass biting his forehead, he remembers the way you’d shove the bottle of liquor you were sharing over a campfire at him, all the weird shit you’d say when you were drunk and the feeling in his stomach by the time he fell asleep because of how hard you’d made him laugh. He remembers the look you’d get on your face when he’d said something that crossed a line, just a little bit, the half smile, half glare and the way you’d hit him upside the head and the way the laughter would bubble up from his chest. He remembers how a shitty, one-lined joke could have you doubled over. He remembers the silences you’d share, the comfortable ones, during those early, early mornings, or in the car, or sitting at a table, and he could glance over at you, drinking your coffee, gazing out the window, fiddling with a knife, or just, sitting there, and just know that you were there with him. Just know that there was someone in his corner for once. 

But they’re just memories. Those times are long gone. You’ll never look at him with anything other than anger or indifference ever again. And suddenly, it’s overwhelming, and he can’t breathe, can’t move or talk or do anything other than stand there, staring at your empty porch, your closed door, and the air burns his lungs and he’s choking and he doesn’t want to be here, he wants to run away, run until every memory is just a puff of smoke, a fading scent, nothing, nothing, nothing, but his chest is so full, and he’s bloated to the point of overflowing with all of these memories. 

He misses you, wants you, he needs you, but you won’t have him, you can’t even stand to have him look at you.

At the same time that his lungs decide to finally let him pull in another breath, there's a wetness in the corners of his eyes, and suddenly, he’s crying. 

He shifts away from the window, leaning against the wall, chest nearly heaving as the memories keep flooding in, of when you’d have his back, your little nods, or just that look in your eye, and that feeling he’d get, completely prepared to lay his life on the line for you, and knowing you would do the same. 

He remembers the cold nights, the really cold nights, when you’d end up huddled up against each other, sharing the same sleeping bag or just a blanket or just in the clothes on your backs, how he’d hold you and feel your breaths with his arm wrapped tight around you, the way his knees would curl behind yours, the feeling of your hair tickling his face. 

He remembers the soft, strange ache in his chest, watching the back of your head instead of the sunset, or shifting into a more comfortable position on an ancient couch. Remembers the tug in his chest to reach out and drag his hand through the tangles, pull you into his side and just lay there for a while. 

And he feels an ache, for those times again, for just a moment more of the warmth of your presence, a moment more of seeing your face without it looking like you want to fucking strangle him. 

With a ragged breath, Joel squeezes his eyes shut, feeling hot tears roll down his cheeks, letting out a swear in a broken, choked whisper. 

He wants to waltz out the door and right up to yours, knock and wait and watch the look on your face fade from annoyance to recognition, for you to smile and let him in. And he’d sit down, and watch you, and make some stupid, shitty joke, watch that smile crack your lips, and he’d feel the laughter bubble up, just like old times.

As the tears join and drip from his chin, he wonders if you feel it too, if you feel like your heart is in your goddamn stomach, if you wonder where all the time went. He wonders if you feel that pang, that emptiness, as if a part of you is missing. If you feel that same urge to just, do something, anything, say hi, fuck, I miss you, break through this wall is between you, and just, fix things. Just try. Try to get it all back. 

He wonders if there’s even any chance, to fix something that’s been battered and bruised for so long that one wonders if it even happened at all. 

He wants to tear his hair out, wants to smash something, hurt something, hurt himself, for being the reason he can’t just go knock on your door and be let in and just sit with you, drink with you, trade idiotic jokes with you, ramble about nothing with you, fall asleep with you. For being the reason that it’s all been obliterated. For wounding you, being the reason you ripped someone’s vein out of their fucking neck, that you’re so fucking guarded, that you’re so fucking alone. 

He feels a desperate, overwhelming urge to scream. Scream it all out, maybe shove his fingers down his throat until every drop of this sorrow and guilt and heartache is out of his system, so he can buck up and face it like a man and be patient and kind instead of getting so goddamn worked up that he ends up being mean to you. 

And fuck, he wants to drink. Drink and drink until it all goes black and he doesn’t even remember what made him want to drink in the first place. 

But all he can do is cry, and suck in rapid, heaved breaths, and suffocate with the salt hitting his tongue because the tears just won’t stop coming. He clamps his hand over his mouth, clenching his jaw as tight as he can, willing himself not to make a sound, but it gathers up in his throat and he whimpers as he weeps. When he tries biting his palm instead, a guttural sound leaves his mouth, and suddenly he’s doubled over as if he’s just been kicked in the gut, and god it feels like he has been. He barely even registers that his legs have given out, that he’s on the floor, rocking back and forth, because all he can see, think, feel, is the loss, those memories and that they’re nothing but that, just whispers of times long dead, and the burning in his lungs from the lack of air. You’re gone, and you hate him, and you’re scarred, and it’s his fault, he failed you, he failed, he failed, he failed, he failed, he failed. Again, and again, and again, and again, he fails, all the people he always swore he never would, he always crosses that line he swears he never will, crosses it without even knowing it, he fails, and he does it again and again and again and again and again, because it's what he does, it’s what he is. A worthless fuck up. Worthless. Fuck. Up. 

Lost in his own hell, Joel doesn’t realize just how loud he's crying, doesn’t recognize that his breaths are choked, wracking sighs and strangled moans, has no awareness that someone has heard him, until there's a rapid rapping of knuckles on his front door. 

Instantly, he stills, a freezing bolt of fear slicing through his thoughts. 

“Joel?” Comes your panicked voice, and his heart stops for a moment before it starts back up thundering in his ears. He presses the heels of his hands into his eyes, urging himself to get himself together calm down enough to respond in some way, to tell you that he’s fine, or that he’s falling apart and wants nothing more than to have you with him for just a few moments so that he won’t feel like there’s a black hole in his chest.

You knock again, knuckles brisk, tone urgent and concerned, and he sucks in a trembling breath. “Joel, open the fucking door.” He knows from that tone that you’re currently inclined to kick it open, but he’s still trying to halt the tears streaming down his cheeks and breathe in a way that has any semblance of evenness. 

“Just a second.” He finally chokes out, struggling to his feet, boots scuffing as he moves unsteadily towards the door, knees feeling like they’re going to buckle as his hand turns the bolt while the other wipes desperately at his face before he pulls the door open. 

Your brow is pinched, your eyes instantly flicking over him from head to toe, and it takes all his willpower not to burst into tears right then, seeing you look at him with such worry.

“Jesus Christ, Joel,” you scold in a whisper, suddenly clamping your hand on the edge of the door to force it open a few more inches, looking him over again. “It sounded like you choking on your own blood or something—I swear I thought you’d slit your throat and were fucking dying over here.” Instantly, a deep shame slots into his gut, and he sucks in a shaky breath, willing himself once again to not burst into tears. “Joel,” you say, voice quieter, face suddenly full of urgent worry and confusion, “what? What happened?” 

He doesn't say anything for a moment, just trying to gain some pretense of control over himself. Finally, he manages to rasp you, voice tight and hoarse, “I don’t… I don’t know I don’t…”

“Fucking hell. You can’t even breathe.” You observe, face still twisted in both concern genuine puzzlement. 

For a brief moment, he almost wants to laugh, because he must look so god damn pathetic right now, crying like a child, barely able to get a fucking word out. He suddenly feels like he’s going to be sick, just at the shame, at having you see him being such a fucking mess. 

“You look like you’re going to throw up.” You state, another unwelcomed observation, and he wants to shut the door on you, lock it and hide in a corner and just sink into the floor, but then you’re pushing your way in, hands on his shoulders to guide him back towards the couch. “Sit down.” You tell him, striding into the kitchen as soon as his butt hits the cushion, and he can barely register the sound of running water before you’re back in front of him, shoving a glass of water in his face. “Drink this.”

Helplessly, he does what he’s told, taking a long, uneven sip, while you watch him like you’re waiting to see it spurting back out of whatever hold must’ve been shot through him. You really did think he was dying in here, didn’t you? Thought he’d tried to, what, kill himself? Is that really how fragile he appears? Setting the glass down on the coffee table, he leans his arms on his knees, clenching his jaw and staring at the floor. “I’m fine.” He forces, cursing himself for not being able to keep an even tone. 

“Oh, don’t give me that.” You murmur back, almost in the same ‘bullshit’ tone you used to use when you’d bicker. “What’s wrong? What happened?” It almost makes another whimper escape him, and he gets the urge to wrap his arms around you and have him hold him, like you did all those years ago. 

“Nothing, I don’t…” he chokes out again, voice shaky. “I don’t know…”

“Okay. Well, breathe, and then have some more water.” Your tone is almost authoritative now, but still laced with worry and some lasting confusion, like you can’t grasp what has him in this state, have no idea that it’s because of you.

He takes a couple deep, shuddering attempts at breaths, before grasping the glass for another gulp of water. 

“Jesus, Joel, you’re shaking.” You call him out again, “Have you eaten since you’ve gotten here?” 

He hadn’t even realized he was shaking, but when he sets the glass back down, he sees the tremble in his hand, and folds them together, trying to hide it, though he knows it's pointless. With his eyes locked on the floor, Joel shakes his head, swallowing thickly before answering hoarsely, “No.” 

He hears you sigh and then feels you get up from the couch, muttering, “You’re fucking starving. Hold on.” He looks up to see you glance back at him, holding a hand out at him as you stride towards the door, “I’ll be right back, just, stay here, breathe, and try not to have a fucking heart attack.”

And just like that, you’re gone, and he’s left in the silence again. He wants to call after you, get up and run to the door, throw it open and beg for you to not leave him alone, but he grits his teeth instead, pressing his hands into his face, rubbing at his forehead. 

“Get a fucking hold of yourself.” He hisses, puffing out a breath. 

Then, the door swings open, and you’re back again, swiftly shutting it behind you and holding something wrapped in wax paper out to him. “Here.” You say, sitting back down next to him and unwrapping it to reveal a granola bar. “Eat this.”

He slowly reaches out to take it, feeling like a sick little kid being taken care of after being called in sick from school. Mostly, he’s embarrassed, but he’s also so incapacitated at the moment that it’s exactly what he wants to lean into, to be taken care of, by you. He takes a bite, trying to focus on chewing and breathing instead of you beside him, watching his every move, and the silence hanging in the air as he makes his way through the granola bar. But, for some reason, it becomes almost soothing after a few moments, maybe just because he’s cried himself into some sort of delusion state. 

Finally, after swallowing the last bite, he clears his throat, voice still a bit hoarse. “I’m sorry,”

“It’s okay.” You say before he can finish, your hand landing gently on his arm for a moment before you pull it away, as if the movement was accidental, regrettably instinctual. “I’m just glad you’re not bleeding out. I swear, you scared the shit out of me.”

Joel bows his head, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean t’… scare you.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You reply, voice coming out almost gentle, and all it does is make him feel like he’s going to cry again, because he hasn’t heard that tone in years, and oh my god is it the only thing he’s craving right now. He lets out a rough breath, head still hanged, feeling his breath becoming unsteady again. “Hey, breathe.” You urge him quietly, and your hand is on his shoulder, gently rubbing it, and his breath trembles, a choked sound falling out of him. “Breathe,” you urge him again in that soft tone, scooting a little closer and leaning your head down, watching his face with your brow twisted in concern. He tries to breathe normally, to follow your gentle order, he really does, but it doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter how hard he tries, because you’re here, comforting him, and he’s suddenly overtaken by that crushing, strangling feeling again, chest locked as his shoulders shakes with desperately held in breaths, just trying not to let out another pathetic little noise as the tears start streaming again. 

Joel does not cry. Not when he’s shot, or stabbed, not when everything goes to shit, not even when someone dies. Joel does not cry. And that must be why you’re suddenly wrapping your arms around him, murmuring, “Fine, fine, okay. Cry. Just cry it out, Joel.” As soon as you start to pull him in, he’s filled with that desperation, to hide in your arms, cling to you and just fucking break down, sob like a child, because you’re here, and you’re telling him it’s okay, because despite everything, you came to him, to make sure he’s okay, and you’ve stayed, you’re still here, and you’re telling him it’s okay. His nervous system gives him no choice other than to sink right into that impulse, tears wetting your shirt as he grasps it in fistfulls, sounds buried into your chest, shoulders shaking under your arms. 

“Keep going.” You say quietly, chin coming to rest on top of his head. “Don’t stop now.” 

It’s the same thing you used to tell him, the two times he’d cried before, openly encouraging him, because you’d seen how many times he’d held back before, and it’s the same thing he used to do for you. Coax it out of you in a protective embrace, because he’ll always be there for you, whatever state you’re in, especially when you’re weak, and here he is now, being weak, breaking down completely, shaking like he might just shatter into pieces right there in your arms, an uncontrollable hose pumping hot, salty tears out of his eyes. “Don’t hold back on me now. Cry.” You whisper, and it’s then that the feeling of safety sets into him, and it only pushes his body harder, legs twitching with the force of his weeping. 

It's so familiar, and it makes his heart hurt more, his fingers curling to grip your shirt like you might just disappear if he doesn't hold on tight enough. “You’re safe,” you hit him again in that tender voice, “you’re safe.” 

Loud, gasping sounds pour out of Joel’s mouth, muffled in your shirt, and he’s nearly hyperventilating, lungs struggling to find a space to fit in a breath between the emotions crowding his throat. “Breathe, breathe.” You start to urge in a whisper, hand starting to slowly rub up and down his back. He tries, he really does, to kettle these uncontrollable emotions, shut the door against the hurricane, find something to hold onto, get some sort of fucking control over himself, but your soothing only makes him cry harder, his breathing nothing more than broken gasps. “Okay, okay, okay.” You surge quietly, “Just breathe with me, okay? Feel my breaths, and breathe with me.” He feels you start to take long, deep breaths, his head lifting and falling with your chest, and forces his focus onto it, just like he used to do when something would set him off and he’d feel like he was going insane, when his heart would stop and lungs seize, and you’d look him in the eyes and hold his hand over your chest, and breathe. 

The measured inhales and exhales are shaky, still somewhat broken, but the gasping begins to attenuate, the air stops burning, and his shoulders start to relax. 

You keep up the tempo, deep and slow and even, and eventually, he calms, and you slowly, and unfortunately, pull away. There’s no way he can meet your eyes, keeping his head lowered, knowing how absolutely pathetic he must look right now, face wet with tears and likely snot, eyes and nose red. The sigh he hears from you only makes him shut his eyes, a powerful wave of shame crashing over him, but then he feels your hand on his jaw, and he can’t help but open his eyes when you pull his face to look at you, and, shockingly, he sees no judgment staring back at him, no disgust, no anger, just, care, and for the first time, he recognizes you again. The kind Y/n he knows so well. 

He’s stunned into silence by it, swallowing thickly as he basically gawks. His eyes trail over your face, taking in all the little details; your brow, the edges of your lips, your eyes. He had thoroughly convinced himself that it was never to be seen again, but here it is, that fucking look on your face, the one that makes him think that you love him.

After a beat, you finally speak, voice quiet and tender. “What…what got you to that point?”

He swallows again, unable to get anything out other than a foolish, “I don’t know.”

“Yes you do.” 

He closes his eyes again, wishing there was any way to avoid this. But there isn’t. He refuses to brush you off, push you away. Not now. Not that you’re looking at him like this, not when you’re holding him like this. Not when he finally has you back. Even if this will just ruin it, he has enough of a head on his shoulders to choose not to react with some sort of flippant anger. So, finally, he swallows the lump in his throat and wills out the hoarse confession. “I miss you.”

He’s met with a deep sigh, your shoulders almost slumping, and it makes his heart sink right back down again. “I’m here.” You reply, almost flatly. 

“It’s not the same and you know it.” He whispers back, watching despairingly as that gentle look fades from your features. 

“Joel…” you say, looking down at your hands in your lap. He wants to reach out and take them, squeeze them, tell you again how much he misses you, beg you to forgive him, to find that soft spot for him in your heart again and just… just… stop sounding like there’s nothing to be done, like it’s over, like it’s gone, everything, forever. 

“...Don’t ‘Joel’ me like that.” He replies quietly. 

With an almost sharp sigh, you look at him again, a defensive lilt in your voice, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say, okay? I am here. But it’s not just going to go back to the way it was. I’m still angry, and I have good reason to be, okay?”

“I know that.” He averts his gaze again, because fuck does it hurt to hear you state it so plainly. In the corner of his eye, he sees you shrug, and he hears the frustration growing in your voice, though he can’t miss the streak of sorrow in it. “I don’t know what else to say.” That little hint, it pokes another hole in his heart, because he was right, you are feeling something like he is, that loss, of the friendship you once had, that partnership, the grief of being together again but so far apart. And it’s his fault. 

“I don’t know either.” He croaks, voice not much more than a whisper. 

He just wants to grab you again, and never let go, but he just clenches his hands in his lap, refusing to look at you, not wanting to ruin the image in his head of that softened expression you had just a moment ago, wanting to hold onto the image of you loving him again. 

“Just…” you start tightly, “finish that glass of water, and go to bed. And eat tomorrow.” Suddenly, he feels your weight leave from beside him, and he jerks his head up to watch your back as you stride towards the door. “Stay alive.” You murmur abruptly on your way out.

As soon as the door closes behind you, Joel sucks in a deep, shaky sigh, almost wanting to start crying all over again, but he forces himself together, having enough self control not to call out to you, ask you to stay with him, just for the night. He knows he’s pushing his luck already, and has a feeling that that was a very special, lucky break of a moment. 

Joel sits there, staring at the half empty glass of water on the table, the moonlight casting a pale shadow over the wood of the coffee table, before he reaches out to take another long sip. 

[crisiscutie]

It's does remind me this one song, Christmas Kids. Yandere Sephiroth tried babytrap his s/o for not leaving him. Christmas kids represent the triplets. Which is Yan!Sephiroth tried to make his s/o pregnant. They tried best to escape hell away from their own prison house. Even, they're change their name and move other country, Sephiroth will find them no matter what.

Yandere domestic Sephiroth AU? Yes, please. I've listened to the song, I really like it. Something about sad songs with happy beats always gets to me. I may have heard it before in some YT shorts... Anyways, it fits a domestic Yandere Sephiroth and a Pregnant!Darling very well. Just imagine the darling coming back to her new home and finding Sephiroth waiting...

Companion fic here.

Content Warnings: Slight NSFW, Emotional abuse, Pregnant Darling. Long headcanons under the cut.

Grocery shopping for the week wasn't easy, but it had to be done. The boys won't be happy that their mother went shopping without them, but school must come first.

Plus, the darling wasn't in the mood to hear Loz and Kadaj arguing and begging for certain foods that week. But regardless of their squabbles, they are her precious gifts. Her Christmas kids, as they were born on that day. The happiest day of her life.

The darling opened the door to her new home, taking a deep breath and feeling the exhaustion from the errand. The ache in her swollen feet, aching back and sensitive milk-filled breasts was overwhelming.

But the pain and discomfort she felt in her pregnant body was a small price to pay for the freedom she and her boys gained.

The young, naïve triplet boys were confused of why their mother wanted to move suddenly, but they obeyed her with little hesitation, anyway.

The darling didn't want them to turn out like Sephiroth. His possessiveness and control were too much to bear. When he took to killing innocent people in the misguided attempt to "protect" her and the boys, that was the last straw. She knew she had to leave that fucked up place called "home" behind...

She grabbed her young boys and left their prison house when the stars aligned...

Despite her unexpected pregnancy by Sephiroth, her journey brought her here. She kept pushing forward, and the reward was a peaceful, cozy home for her and her children. Until today.

As the darling placed items on the shelves, she felt a cold, eerie sensation, as if something was watching her from the darkness.

She forced herself to ignore the eerie chill, opening the window blinds slightly as she resumed her normal stocking pace.

Even though the sun was shining brightly on this beautiful day, the eerie chill still lingered in their new home.

But it has nothing to do with what happened in their past. Definitely not. It's probably just a cold flash from her pregnancy getting so close to the end.

As she tippytoes, she strained her body to place the last few items.

As a response, the backache from her pregnant belly intensified. She could feel her baby's sporadic movements, ranging from gentle kicks to violent jolts. Maybe the darling should've invested in a step stool...

A wave of heat washed over her, a heat that was neither comforting nor from the sun, but a heat that was harsh and oppressive.

Now she's having hot flashes? Oh, the perils of pregnancy. At least this little one inside her should be much easier to have than the triplet boys.

The darling softly smiled as she recalled the adventurous banter among the triplets during their journey to a new home. They were debating the sex of their new sibling.

Loz longed for a younger brother to wrestle and play games with, knowing that he would have a better shot at winning against him, unlike his other brothers.

Yazoo, with his level-headed and composed outlook, predicted it would be a girl, welcoming the possibility of her tempering the wildness of his brothers (what a hypocrite).

Kadaj didn't care either way, as long as they didn't challenge his position as the leader and his status as his mother's (self-proclaimed) favorite.

The darling let out a deep groan as she paused her stocking. Her unborn child ended the sporadic fetal movements with the hardest kick yet. Something just isn't right... Perhaps she will see someone later this week after she and the boys finish moving in.

Suddenly, the dark, icy chill behind her shifted to a menacing heat, like a furnace blazing from the shadows. It felt so familiar, like… No! It's impossible! That chapter was a distant memory.

The darling is just imagining things. It should be no surprise that the human brain likes to play cruel tricks like this.

Like how Loz kept running to his mother, crying about seeing mysterious dark feathers around his school, the grocery store and other places their family would visit. He would complain that Sephiroth was too good at hide and seek.

The darling figured the strange dark feathers were simply a product of his mind, missing his father in his own way...

But it became alarming when Yazoo began to murmur and point out the smallest details of every single dark feather as he brought them to her.

Kadaj was getting frustrated, beginning to wonder why their father wouldn't help them finish moving in.

The darling refused to believe the boys. It could just be the ravens shredding their feathers, right?

With trembling hands, the darling slowly reached out for the final item. When she completes this simple task, she can lie down and relax. All of her stress, and the aching in her back especially, would soon be gone.

Just before she could grasp it, a large, gloved hand appeared and delicately placed the last item on the top shelf.

The darling felt a strange, unwanted sense of relief as she felt the slow and gentle strokes of another hand on her back.

...His presence could not be denied any longer. She felt his chest expanding and contracting against her head, and heard the gentle thump of his heart.

Sephiroth… No matter how many miles they traveled or how many times they changed their names and minds, he still had the determination to find them. He'll always know.

His silver tresses brushed against her skin as he hummed his sinister lullaby, pressing his lips to her ear.

His free hand grazed one of her sensitive, milk-filled teats. His hand then slowly descended, aiming for the treasure below.

His darling's swollen belly, where the new life within her stirred and grew.

He rested his hand on the center of her large belly. Warm, twisted happiness now radiated from him. His plan worked.

His darling refused to turn around. Struggling to contain her sobs, His darling averted her head from him and wept in silence.

His fingers glided over the stretched skin of her stomach, while his other hand moved lower to caress the small of her back.

As he opened his mouth, his warm breath tickled her ear.

"A touching reunion."

I wasn't sure if the prompt ask had the darling pregnant with triplets or already had them and was pregnant with a spare child, so I just combined a little of both concepts, but regardless, thanks for the great inspiration.

Yandere Domestic AU chronology: Christmas Kids | The Reunion is Nothing to Fear | Wait for me | Homecoming | The Crowning Moment

[steddieas-shegoes]

Chapter 2 to this post which can also be found on ao3 here

When Steve woke up, he groaned in pain.

His back was not designed to sleep on small couches that looked older than he was. His head was also not very pleased with his situation.

And that was before everything came crashing back to him.

He looked down at his wrapped wrist, eyebrows furrowed when he realized it didn’t hurt anymore.

How long was he asleep? How long was it supposed to hurt? Maybe the pain in his back and head was enough to distract from the pain of the tattoo he’d gotten.

Before he realized what was happening, frustrated tears were falling down his face, his lip curling as he tried to fight the emotions welling up inside him. He didn’t even know what emotions he was feeling, just that they were too much.

He heard someone shuffle into the room, but didn’t look up from where he was staring down at his wrist. He assumed it was Eddie, and he didn’t want Eddie to see him crying again.

There were hands on his cheeks, thumbs brushing away his tears as he pretended that he wasn’t actually crying.

Whatever was going on was kind of ruining his reputation, not that Eddie even knew him enough to know of his reputation.

“It’s alright, sunshine. Did you just wake up?”

“Yeah.”

His voice was broken and raspy, barely audible even after clearing his throat a couple of times.

“Sorry the couch isn’t very comfy. I didn’t expect you to completely fall asleep. Tell me what’s going on.”

“Just. I. I don’t know.”

Eddie searched his face. He was looking for something, and Steve kind of hoped he’d find it so he knew what the hell was going on.

“I think you’re dropping. It’s okay. I’ve got ya.”

And for some fucking reason, Steve believed him.

He fell forward into Eddie’s chest, letting Eddie wrap his arms around him and hold him close.

He listened to the calming beat of Eddie’s heart and felt the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed in and out.

He’d had panic attacks before. This wasn’t one of those.

He’d been so depressed he couldn’t get out of bed before. This wasn’t that.

He’d even been unable to stop crying before. This didn’t feel like that.

This felt like he was lost in a void and no one would ever find him. He’d have to crawl through this overwhelming darkness and silence on his own.

But he felt Eddie’s warmth. He felt his hands gripping the back of his head and back. He felt Eddie’s breath against his hair, every exhale making it move just enough to make him shiver.

Eddie was pulling him from the void, making it easier to feel and see his surroundings. He was able to hear Eddie singing softly to him, not a song he recognized, but one that was slow enough to keep him calm as he eased back to reality.

He didn’t want to move, but he knew he was feeling good enough to give Eddie space. He really didn’t want to though.

Not even a little bit.

As he pulled away, Eddie’s hands gripped tighter, keeping him against him.

“A bit longer, sunshine. You’ll be okay.”

He believed him.

Something about the way Eddie spoke made him feel like he could find his way out.

He relaxed against him, unclenched his fists and jaw in a way he probably hadn’t in years. He tried to copy the way Eddie was breathing, but he kept getting caught up in a wet sob.

“Focus on my voice, sunshine. You feel it against your ear? You hear what I’m saying?”

Steve nodded against his chest.

“Good. You’re doing so good, Stevie. Breathe in for me.” Steve did. “Out.” Steve did. “So good. Again. In. Out.”

Steve was breathing in and out as Eddie instructed him to. It was easy to have direction, to let Eddie guide him through something so simple.

Steve would feel awkward about it later. Alone in his room.

And he’d never see Eddie again and never explore what just happened and definitely never tell Robin.

Oh god. Robin.

She probably thought he was dead.

“How long?”

Eddie kept rubbing his back as he answered.

“Two hours. Not long. I was gonna wake you up soon anyways. I’m closed for the night.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Eddie shushed him and pulled him even tighter against him.

“Nothing to be sorry for. Once I saw you were out, I met with my client and finished up closing stuff so I could get you out of here safely.”

“Oh.”

Steve still didn’t know what he was feeling. He knew he probably owed Eddie a lot for getting him out of it, but he was also banking on never having to see Eddie again or explain himself.

“Would Robin know what to do if you drop again?”

“I don’t even know what that means.”

He felt Eddie sigh. He tried not to take offense, but like, how was he supposed to take it any other way than he was officially a pain in Eddie’s ass?

“Hey. Look at me, Steve.”

Steve looked. Of course he looked. He was like a dog learning new tricks at this point.

“I can call Robin if you want. I can talk her through what to do.”

“Um. Is it…like this?”

He didn’t mind Robin touching him, that wasn’t it. It was more that Robin was touch averse, and rarely did more than give him a quick hug of comfort if he needed it. It’s not that she wouldn’t be willing to try whatever this is, but he didn’t want her to have to.

“Well. It depends on the person. But it seems to be working for you, so yeah, probably.”

“I don’t think she could.”

“Do you have anyone else you trust who might be free?”

Steve didn’t have to think about it. No. He had Robin and his job.

He shook his head and sniffled.

How pitiful.

He reminded himself again that he’s crying and making a fool of himself in front of a stranger. Sure, Eddie did his tattoo, seemed nice, seemed to care that he was taken care of.

Which was a red flag to Steve.

Why does this stranger care so much?

“Why do you care?”

Steve pulled away despite every nerve and bone and muscle in his body wishing he’d stay wrapped up in Eddie’s arms. He watched as Eddie’s face spent a few moments circling between amusement, hurt, and anger.

“I care because you have no idea what’s happening and it can be dangerous for you if you don’t have someone around who does.”

“And you do?”

“I know enough.”

“But you don’t know me.”

“I think I’m starting to.”

Steve didn’t like the sound of that at all. He doesn’t let people know him. He hadn’t even told Eddie anything.

“Can you explain what the hell is happening?”

Eddie sat down on the couch and pulled Steve down so his head was in his lap.

How did he manage to do that so quickly? Why did Steve let him?

Why was Steve more relaxed now than he’d been in years?

Fingers played with the ends of his hair as Eddie spoke softly.

“You went into subspace. I didn’t notice at first, but when I looked up for the first check in, I could tell. Glazed over eyes, one word answers, cheeks red. You were letting me move your arm like a rag doll.” Eddie scratched at his scalp and he couldn’t help letting out a moan. It felt good, sue him. “Do you remember me checking in?”

“Um. Kinda?”

Steve was trying to focus on Eddie’s voice again, but the way his hands scratched at his scalp had his eyelids dropping.

“You were under the whole time. I tried a few times to get you focused, but it didn’t happen. I’m pretty familiar with it so I didn’t panic.”

“What happened after?”

“You mean the drop?”

“Yeah.”

“It happens sometimes. You crash too hard after or you don’t have someone to take care of you or both. Sometimes it happens even with those things not being a problem.”

“And that’s happening? To me?”

“I think so. Normally by now I’d probably be okay with you going home and taking it easy, but you didn’t even know what was going on. You’re gonna have to let me be a little bit dramatic about it.”

Steve would’ve rolled his eyes if he were able to, but unfortunately exhaustion was creeping in again.

“You can rest your eyes, sunshine. I’m right here.”

That shouldn’t make Steve feel safe. Or relaxed. Or content. Or happy. Or loved. Especially not loved.

But it did. He did.

Well, fuck.

— — — — — — —

Steve managed to send a text to Robin and made sure she could see his location just in case.

Eddie made sure she had his number and address, too.

Steve was feeling more present, but still unstable. He was thinking too hard, but couldn’t work through his thoughts in a way that was helpful.

This shit was for the birds.

He was telling Eddie the truth that he had no idea what was going on and that it had never happened to him, but as he rode to Eddie’s apartment in the passenger seat of Eddie’s car, he remembered an instance not too long ago with someone he hooked up with.

They’d been messing around in the bathroom of the club, Steve against the door of the stall, and the guy (Alex? Adam? Anders? Who knows.) pulled both of his wrists together and held them above his head tightly. He let his eyes roll back and the next thing he knew, the guy was finishing him off furiously with his hand down his pants.

But he hadn’t gone through this dropping thing Eddie was insisting he was doing right now.

Eddie seemed to know what he was talking about, so he believed it, but he found it hard to believe something as simple as a tattoo could do this to him.

Eddie kept a firm grip on his thigh the entire way to his place.

“I don’t want to risk things getting worse. Usually it helps to have physical contact.”

Steve didn’t want to admit he was right, but the hand on his thigh did help keep him centered and focused.

He stayed quiet for the ride, letting Eddie’s voice singing along to the radio be the only noise in the car.

When they arrived at Eddie’s house (he had a whole house?), Eddie turned to him with a soft smile.

“Tired?”

Steve nodded.

“Let’s get you inside so you can sleep it off. Feel okay other than that?”

Steve shrugged.

Eddie’s eyebrows furrowed.

“Can you use your words, Sunshine?”

Steve opened his mouth, but stopped just before he was going to say something.

Hm. He knew what he wanted to say, he knew how to get his mouth to say it, but his voice wasn’t working with the rest of him to get it out.

“Okay. That’s alright. Let’s get you inside. Water and a snack, maybe a bath?”

Steve shrugged again.

Eddie knew what was best for him, so he’d let Eddie decide.

That just felt easier.

TAG LIST: @invisibleflame812 @inmoonywetrust @captain-daryn

Chapter 3

[theemporium]

Sirius x (preferably james's sister) reader with the song pretty face by Public? pretty please :)

love your writing btw <33

not quite sure what this is because i listened to the song and somehow this came from it🤠anyways thank you for requesting!!🖤

.

“You look beautiful.”

You whirled around, the fabric of your dress spinning with you as you turned to find your brother’s best friend standing in the doorway of the suite, dressed in a fitted suit like the other boys had been wearing earlier when you saw them outside the window. 

The clock on the wall had been haunting you all morning, the seconds ticking by and the black hands slowly moving around the face until they quickly approached the time that left a pit deep in your gut. The fabric of your dress was overwhelming, the corset was too tight and the veil on your head felt like the weight of the world. 

You were happy. 

You were supposed to be happy. 

Why didn’t you feel happy?

“Is it normal for a bride to cry on her wedding day?”

The question caught you off guard considering the plethora of other people who had seen you hadn’t even questioned the red rimmed eyes, but he did. He always noticed the small things about you.

“They are happy tears,” you told him with a strained smile on your lips, one that you knew he would look right through but you didn’t have the energy for anything else right now. You had the rest of the day to fake your emotions and smiles through, you could let your guard down a little right now. 

“Are they?” Sirius asked simply and the bluntness of the question was enough to crumble the wall a little more.

“I don’t have a choice, Sirius,” you whispered, scared if you said the words any louder then the rest of the emotions would come flooding out.

“Yes, you do,” he said in a strained voice as he quickly moved across the room, the door shut behind him as he walked towards you. His face softened a little at your expression and, before either of you could stop him, he raised his hands to wipe away your tears. “You don’t know him.”

“I know some things about him,” you supplied weakly.

“You don’t know him well,” Sirius said with a single shake of his head. “And he doesn’t know you the way I do.”

“Sirius—”

“You know I’m right, love,” he whispered, his eyes gleaming with hope as you sunk into his touch. You sought out his familiar touch, the same hands that helped you through so much growing up and here he was again. He was always there. 

“If my brother finds out—”

“I’ll deal with James,” Sirius assured you, taking a step closer as his hands cupped your face. “I’ll deal with them all. Just say the word and I can call this whole thing off.” 

“What about the guests?” you whispered, the guilt settling in your stomach but the relief outweighed it. “What about all the planning and—”

“I don’t care about anything but you,” Sirius told you plainly enough. “I’ll throw the flowers in a fucking fire myself if needs be.”

You cracked a smile.

“Say the word and I’ll cancel this nonsense.”

You let out a heavy breath.

“You should marry a man you love,” Sirius whispered to you. “Not a man you feel like you need to marry out of duty.”

“I don’t want to let them all down, Sirius,” you whispered back, your eyes welling up with tears just like they had been doing all morning.

“You could never let me down, baby, no matter what,” he told you, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

“I don’t wanna get married today.”

“Then you won’t.”

“I’m tired, Sirius.”

“Let’s get you out of that dress and into something more comfortable, yeah?” he murmured as his fingers already began making way of removing the veil pinned into your hair. “Then you can take a nap whilst I sort everything out.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, baby.”

.

[seivsite]

okioki so i was listening to "from the start" by laufey and started daydreaming to it LMFAO

so im thinkingggg maybe a drabble with blade or dan heng where reader secretly pines over them. one day reader is alone in a room and theyre listening to this song and they start singing along and getting really into it. then when they turn around they see blade/dan heng watching them and they're like "so who's this about?" (or smth idk you can change it) and reader gets really embarassed but confesses anyway

PHEW ok im done im sorry tjis was so long ACK

FROM THE START .ᐟ

includes: dan heng x fem!reader. soft bf dan heng, can be interpreted as imbibitor lunae, not proofread — wc: 691

(Name) was listening to her playlist in her room, engaging in various activities such as reading and tidying up her space. The song “From the Start” by Laufey began playing, causing her to halt in her tracks and swiftly turn up the volume. She sang along to the lyrics, using a makeshift microphone hairbrush, and complemented her performance with gestures that mirrored the song’s sentiment.

Unbeknownst to the eyes of another person observing her, she sang the lyrics aloud, her voice carrying the melody of the song as her body gracefully moved to its rhythm, lost in the joy of the moment.

Have to get this off my chest

I’m telling you today

That when I talk to you, oh, Cupid walks right through

And shoots an arrow through my heart

As she sang, she made a makeshift arrow with her hand, delicately gesturing as if it pierced through her heart, adding a touch of emotion and artistry to her performance.

And I sound like a loon, but don’t you feel it too?

Confess I loved you from the start

Confess I loved you

Just thinking of you

I know I’ve loved you from the start

Startled by the unexpected claps, she froze up, slowly turning towards the door where the applause came from. There he stood, leaning against the doorway with a gentle smile on his face. “So, who’s this song about?” he inquired, his eyes filled with curiosity and a hint of intrigue.

With a fond gaze, Dan Heng observed how she immediately blushed and hastily sought refuge under the covers of her blanket, attempting to escape his gaze.

“It’s rude to ignore someone who’s talking to you, you know,” he playfully chided, moving towards her form, gently patting her head above the blanket.

“Stop it, this is so embarrassing,” she whined, trying her best to avoid Dan Heng’s teasing but finding it rather difficult to resist his affectionate gestures. The playful banter between them brought forth a sense of warmth and familiarity, making their bond even stronger in that intimate moment.

Dan Heng chuckled at her response, settling himself more comfortably on her bed as he persisted with his question, “So, back to my previous question, who’s this song about? I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“I don’t think you’d wanna know,” she mumbled, her voice muffled as she hid her face in her pillow.

“Why?” Dan Heng inquired, curious to uncover the mystery.

“Because it’s...” she hesitated, the ending of her sentence inaudible to Dan Heng’s ears.

“Hmm? Can you repeat that?” He teased, finally catching a glimpse of her red face, though only the top half was visible due to her continued attempts to shield herself. The playful exchange between them brought a sense of lightness and comfort to the moment, allowing them to share a connection that transcended mere words.

She suddenly groaned and tried to turn away from him, “It’s you, idiot,” she whispered. Dan Heng froze in his spot, hearing her confession, before swiftly moving to be on top of her lying form, gently trapping her between his arms.

“Are you serious? (Name), oof—” Dan Heng began to say but was interrupted as she smacked him in the face with a pillow, causing him to fall down beside her.

Her back turned towards him, Dan Heng felt an overwhelming desire to cuddle her and shower her with kisses. Cautiously, he hugged her waist from behind, finding comfort in the fact that she didn’t push him away. He continued to cuddle into her, basking in the warmth of their affection.

“I like, no, love you too, my dearest,” he declared with sincerity, his heart brimming with affection.

He was taken aback by her sudden movement, now face to face. Dan Heng couldn’t resist the urge any longer and asked, “Can I kiss you?” to which she nodded in consent.

Sealing their lips together in a passionate kiss, they immersed themselves in a tender embrace, embracing each other with gentleness and devotion. The world around them seemed to fade away as they expressed their feelings through that intimate connection, creating a cherished moment that they would remember forever.

NOTES. aaa i rly liked writing this, i’ll post a blade version probably later heheheeheh so soft n tiny dan heng bbg

TAG LIST. @rintosei @yanqingisim

LIKES AND REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED! ‹3

[abbu0414]

Comfort (Soapxf!reader)

Hi guys! This ones kinda for me because I feel like I've been overworking myself and getting overwhelmed at small things, and I am just WATING for my huge breakdown (I'm due for one in like 2 days I can feel it). And also in honor of the new CoD season coming out yesterday, I bought the battlepass as a little treat for myself. Anyways, please enjoy :)

Word count: 634

♪Song to Listen To: House Song by Searows♪

This had been the 8th night in a row that you had come back late from work. It wasn’t unusual for you to work extra, or to come home late but Johnny knew what was going on. I mean come on he was your boyfriend, he’s always up to date on these things. But he knew that this meant you were trying to distance yourself from your emotions, or something that you were thinking about. The only way you would stay sane, was if you overworked yourself to exhaustion. If you were constantly working, this meant that at night you would sleep peacefully. And this meant as a boyfriend, he needed to do small things to make your life easier, like wiping off counters after you made dinner for the two of you, or folding the blankets that scattered the couch after one of Johnny’s after work naps. 

After night 11 of working in a row AND working late, he had enough of you torturing yourself. And in all honesty, you have had enough of it too.  You came home and softly closed the door to your shared apartment. Your work backpack feeling heavier than usual as your tired, sore feet carried you down your long hallway. 

“Bonnie, is that you?” Johnny calls out from the couch

And suddenly soft tears begin to spill.

All of those pent up emotions, all of those days where customers just bitched and yelled at you, all of those days you wanted to hide in the back and cry, all of those coworkers that made you do all the hard work just for them to get all the credit. You couldn’t take much more of it.

You don’t even make it to your door as you crumble in the hallway, letting out silent tears. You hear footsteps approaching you, but don’t look up. A figure removes your backpack off of your heavy and tired shoulders. It sits on the hallway floor right in front of you and lifts your chin to meet its eyes. 

“Just because you can carry heavy things, doesn’t mean I can’t help lift. I’m here to help carry the heavy stuff too.” And just like that, you explode. 

“I-I don’t w-want to carry all the heavy stuff Johnny.” Your sobs echo in the empty hallway as you bring your body closer to his until he has you with your legs wrapped around his waist and and he has his nose in the crook of your neck. 

“I know Bonnie, I know.” 15 minutes later you’ve calmed down and your breathing softens, Johnny peppers your neck and face softly with kisses as he takes in your smell that he loves so much. He realizes that you’ve cried yourself to sleep and he gives a light chuckle. As he gets up off the floor, he takes you with him and carries you to your shared bedroom. 

Changing you into your favorite t-shirt and shorts combo, he takes in your sleeping face. With your eyes and nose red from crying so hard, it breaks his heart into a million pieces. He tucks you into bed and climbs in with you (him being the big spoon obviously) his hand snakes around your waist and up your chest to give you something to hold onto while you sleep. You nestle your cheek into his hand as you take a big sigh of relief from letting all your emotions out and taking in Johnny’s cologne and touch. He always knew how to calm you down and after a long couple of days, this is exactly what you needed. 

Maybe calling out of work wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all. (Johnny was gonna do it for you while you were asleep anyways to force you to take a break.)

[merbear25]

Anxiety is talked about fairly often, but some don't know how to handle a s/o or friend who struggles with it. That being said, those who care about you are willing to learn!

Monster trio, Robin, Chopper, Franky, Brook, Law

CW: SFW, headcanons, mentions of general and social anxiety. Zoro's and Law's parts don't start out that comforting. There can be different things that can trigger it (sometimes nothing necessarily triggers it!) so this is kept more broad. It's kind of a specific headcanon, but it's something I personally struggle with and maybe others can relate.

Luffy: It takes him time to realize how hard some situations are for you, and even then, it's not something he'll fully be abe to understand. But he doesn't need to understand in order to care about you and consider your feelings! He'll help you in anyway he can. If you're having a hard time coping with the rough seas, he'll draw your attention to him. You're feeling overwhelmed at a gathering? He'll stay nearby, giving you a sense of stability in the hurdles you're currently up against.

Zoro: He'd be able to notice something's different about you. However, he may be someone who didn't quite believe in anxiety (at least not in the regard of a disorder). That being said, when he started spending more time with you, it became blatently obvious that it was, in fact, something to be taken more seriously. Once realizing this, he'd be more considerate towards you. He wouldn't really be hands on when helping you, but he'd hover around, just making sure everything is okay.

Sanji: You'd have his undying support. Similarly to Luffy, he wouldn't fully be able to grasp the extend of your problems, although that's not obligitory when it comes to caring about the ones you love. He'd be more than willing to listen to what triggers you and would help you find coping methods to help push you through rough patches. He's a doer and wants to help you find ways to ease your troubled mind.

Robin: Similaryly to Zoro, she would have sensed something was going on with you, especially if your anxiety flares up during more social events. When she notices, she'd be tacktful when approaching the issue; she wouldn't want to make you feel singled out. She's always happy to learn about her friends and the ways they think, so you could open up to her without fear of judgement.

Chopper: He'd know better than anyone here just how hard social anxiety is. Being as empathetic as he is, he'd sob for you when you mention your qualms. Despite this initial reaction, he is still a doctor and is dedicated to helping people. Sure, his specialty doesn't lie in psychology, but he'd be determined to find something, anything, to aid you. He'd be a stand-in emotional support reindeer if you really needed it.

Franky: He's an extremely friendly, silly, and sociable cyborg, though that doesn't mean he doesn't know how to tone it down when he sees someone he cares about going through a hard time. Being a doer like Sanji, he would look for solutions to your problem. He'd opt for sillier antics when it comes to keeping your mind off of things, which may or may not be the most helpful. Either way, everything he does is in good faith.

Brook: If you're a music lover, he'd opt for playing your favorite song to get your mind off of things. He finds it soothing and figures you would too. He'd check up on you through out the day, giving you space if that's what you need. If you'd rather talk or vent about it, he wouldn't object to it. He wouldn't mind if you end up talking his ear off, not that he has ears.

Law: Being a doctor, he'd know better than to just dismiss your issues, but dealing with emotions is not his forte. He'd probably start out keeping himself at arms length from you, observing how you handle each wave of anxiety. In doing this, he'd gain a better understanding of how to approach you. This may come across as him out right avoiding you, though. Once he has a better idea of how to handle you during, and outside of, these flare-ups, he'd helicopter around you, taking out some of the things that'd set you off when he can.

[storiesofleftoverghosts]

I Remember Everything || Leon Kennedy

pairings: Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

warnings: hurt/no comfort, breaking up, alcoholism, semi-toxic relationship, Leon hates himself, reader has alcoholic father, no y/n is used.

word count: 2182

requested: nope!

a/n: i'm a yapper so this is gonna be long LMFAO. honestly i didn't have any specific leon in mind when i wrote this so... anyway i recently gave y'all fluff but i think it's time for angst. this is very heavily inspired by "I Remember Everything" by Zach Bryan and Kacey Musgraves. even if you don't like country, i'd recommend listening to it while reading this.

Sitting in a dive bar on a Wednesday night had become Leon's sense of normal over the years. It didn’t matter the day actually. If he wasn't on some life threatening mission for the government who didn't care about his well-being, he was at the bar. It was pathetic. He knew that better than anybody. Men his age were married and drinking with their friends. Some had at least two kids by now. He couldn't help but think of how he could have had that with you.

If only he didn't ruin everything he fucking touched. Maybe you both would be happy right now if he hadn't crossed paths with you.

Nursing his whiskey glass, he sipped on the caramel colored liquid. Rot gut whiskey usually helped ease his mind on nights like this. He didn’t enjoy how awful it tasted, but it was his choice of poison. It’s what he deserved, right? The cheap liquor burnt going down, and the aftertaste made him want to gag. Reality had seemed to be the thing he had trouble swallowing the most in the moment.

Memories of you had begun to trickle back into his mind as he continued to drink. Was it too much to ask the universe to cut him some slack for one god damn night? He thought about you enough as it is when he was sober. 

He was specifically thinking about one of the first dates you both had gone on. Driving home in your old pick up truck from the beach with the windows down. Sitting in the passenger seat gave him the best view. The summer breeze danced with your hair as the sun seemed to highlight all of his favorite features on you. Your smile somehow was brighter than the sun as you sang along to some cheesy pop song on the radio. Beautiful wasn’t even a word that could cover how he thought of you in the moment. Emotions he thought he would never feel again overwhelmed him, and before he knew it, warm tears had begun to form in the corner of his eyes.

“Are you crying babe?” You had asked while turning down the radio. Concern was written all over your features. Sometimes you gave him a run for his money with how observant you were. His piercing blue eyes were glossed over before he turned his attention to whatever was passing outside the window. Quickly he cleared his throat as heat creeped up the back of his neck. 

“Yeah. You still got sand in your hair and it blew into my eyes.” Both of you knew it was an excuse, but you didn’t pry any deeper into the subject. You had learned your lesson about trying to make Leon communicate his emotions with you. Besides, he had the mentality that grown men don’t cry. How could he explain that he was crying out of joy and in awe of your beauty? Thinking of explaining that had made him cringe at the time. 

God he used to give you so much shit about that truck. It was on the older side, and he had offered multiple times to get you a new one. But you were too stubborn and would shoot the offer down. That truck was your pride and joy. Now he would give anything to drive around with you in that pick up truck one more time. 

Another memory seemed to taunt him and rub salt into his open wound. Late night talks sitting on your beatdown basement couch together, your head in his lap as he played with your hair. You’d tell him stories about your family, like when your mother had run off from your father and pawned her wedding ring. Something about how she couldn’t take your fathers drinking anymore. His soothing fingers running through your hair would comfort you, and he swore to you that he’d never turn out like that. 

It tore him up to think how he wouldn’t be the man that he always swore to you he would be.

Glass clinking snapped him out of his pity party. Another whiskey glass was in front of him. The bartender gave him a small nod before focusing his attention on another patron. Leon bit the inside of his lip once he realized the man hadn't even had to ask Leon if he wanted another one. He had grown used to Leon's company in that same damn barstool he sat in every time. Knowing that only made Leon sink deeper into his self hatred. His eyes flicked down to the drink before lifting it to his lips, and took another drink. 

The bitter taste of the alcohol paired with a cheesy pop song in the background, the same one you blasted all the time, brought one final bitter memory to him. When he broke up with you, or more like when you broke up with him. Funny enough, it happened right here at the same bar, at the same barstool. He might have been wasted when it happened, but he remembered everything about that night.

You had come into the bar looking for him one night. The bar was almost closed so when he heard the door open, it had caught his attention. The moment his eyes laid eyes on you, he knew he was in deep shit. You were constantly telling him how you refused to step foot in a bar. Going as far to say you’d rather eat glass than be around the smell of alcohol and alcoholics. Normally he’d remind you that not everyone who went to a bar was an alcoholic, but here he was, proving your point. There was practically a trailblaze of fire behind you as you stomped your way toward him. Steam was leaving your ears and he began to mentally prepare himself for what was about to happen.

“What the hell Leon?!” Glaring at him, you crossed your arms. Anger was practically dripping off your tone. Empty glasses were sitting around him. He couldn’t meet your gaze which only pissed you off more. You hadn’t heard from him in days. Three fucking days to be exact. You knew he hadn’t been sent off to do a mission. He would always give you a kiss goodbye and promise he’d make it back to you. Now you were questioning if his promises meant anything.

“Don’t do this here. Just let me finish this drink, and we can go do this.. somewhere else.” His disinterested voice slurred as he traced the rim of his glass. You felt your blood begin to boil. A teensy tiny part of you felt bad for him. Leon had seen horrific things, not that he would give you the full picture of things. It didn’t take a genius to know that Leon was a broken man. But you didn't care about that. 

For the past couple of months, he had been acting cold towards you. Less and less would he tell you how much he loved you. His fuse was shorter with you, and most of the time you guys were arguing about stupid things. It felt like you were constantly walking on eggshells around him. No matter how much you tried to talk to him about the issues in your relationship, he ignored you. Ignorance was bliss was his mindset about things like this. Not to mention, you had noticed he had been drinking more heavily. Stumbling to your place late at night, too drunk to even stand correctly had become something that happened at least three times a week. You couldn’t stand alcohol and he knew it. Not answering you for three days was the final straw for you.

“No, fuck that! We’re gonna do this here,” You slammed your hands down on the bar. For a moment that seemed to have gotten his attention before he returned back to his unbothered facade. Your hands were stinging from how hard you had slammed down.

“You’re drinking everything in sight to ease your mind, but just when the hell are you gonna help ease mine? Do you know how fucking worried I’ve been?!” You yelled at him, clenching your jaw.. Leon rolled his eyes and shook his head. Luckily there was only one person at the bar, the bartender. The bartender took it as a sign to go get more stock.

“Did ya think that maybe you’re the reason I’m drinkin’? All you do is bitch at me all the time. It’s…It’s like nails on a chalkboard every time I hear you talk.” He waved a finger at you. His pupils were dilated, and you could smell the alcohol coming off of him. His drunken words stung, and there was a flash of hurt written on your face. Even when you two were arguing, he never talked to you like this. Guess strange words come out of a grown man’s mouth when his mind’s broken.

“Are you being serious right now?” Your voice broke towards the end of your sentence. He didn’t respond, and only stared at you like you were an idiot. The audacity he had to say that astounded you. Drunk words were a sober man’s thoughts or however the saying went. You were reminded of the way your father would talk to your mom, and a feeling of disgust washed over you. The man you loved was starting to become like the man you hated. Your anger dissipated as tranquility took its place. You knew what you had to do.

“You know what? I’m done.” You had sounded so unbothered as you removed your hands from the bar. Like if you were talking about the state of the weather and not ending your relationship. Leon raised an eyebrow. Did he hear you right? Were you doing what he thought you were doing?

“I love you and I understand you have your issues. But I have enough self respect for myself to realize I deserve better than being treated like garbage.” Hearing your words seemed to sober him up. He quickly got off the barstool, stumbling a little as he did. You watched him with a strange look in your eyes. Looking back at it now, he realized that it was a look of pity.

“Baby. You don’t mean that.” He chuckled before searching your face for any signs that you were joking. Much to his dismay, your lips were pressed in a thin line. He reached out to try and grab your hands but you had pulled them away. Your eyes were devoid of that warmth you usually had whenever he looked into them. That’s when it hit him that he had fucked up for the last time.

“Do me a favor and call yourself a cab. Seems like the bars’ closing soon.” A disappointed sigh managed to escape from you as you turned away. Part of you wanted to personally drive him home but that would only hurt you in the long run. These were the consequences of his actions. That’s what you had to tell yourself as he began to plead you to stay.

“Please don’t do this. Can’t you just stay? Please love, don’t leave me.” He called out to you. He would have begged you to stay till the sun rose, you knew that. You’ve never heard someone sounding so desperate, let alone Leon sounding so desperate. Maybe it was how much alcohol he had consumed. Maybe it was the fact that he knew he was losing you. It made you hesitate for a moment but you continued to walk.

Deep down you knew if you stayed, you wouldn’t be able to leave. It would be a never ending restless cycle of Leon getting drunk and saying hurtful shit, you wanting to leave, him begging you not to, etc. You weren’t going to be like your mother. Desperate pleas fell on deaf ears as you finally stepped out of the bar, disappearing into the night and his life.

“Time to go home. Bar’s closed.” The bartender told him which snapped him out of his thoughts once last time. It didn’t feel like that much time had passed since he was given another drink, but the time on his watch proved him wrong. When it came to you he always lost track of time. Every time he sat down on this barstool he thought about you. Why he had kept coming back here, he didn’t know. Mostly it was a way of punishing himself. For letting you walk away and being too much of a coward to not change for you.

He paid his tab and left a tip for the bartender. Mumbling a good night, he made his way out the door. The cool night air felt nice against his flushed skin, yet it only made him miss you more. Cursing out his brain for the painful reminder, he called a cab before waiting for it to come. 

God he wished he didn’t but he did remember every moment (the good and the bad) on those summer nights with you.