#i just want to go through one day without a panic attack or thinking i'm about to die

[bambis-baby]

Please Read

I don't usually post this sort of personal stuff here and I don't even think anyone will see it, but I have recently been diagnosed with iron--deficiency anemia and the symptoms are kicking my ass, like to the point where I repeatedly worry that I'm having a heart attack and am going to die, so if anyone on here has any advice for me or know any way to help counteract the symptoms (trouble breathing, heart palpitations, twinges in my chest, bleeding gums, nausea, heated extremities and lightheadedness) other than taking iron tablets, I would really appreciate it. I think I'm going to die at least once a day and I have been starting to have panic attacks, and my poor friend is probably getting tired of having to talk me down so. If anyone knows how to help, this is literally my last resort. I also suffer from chronic back pain so a lot of the symptoms for a heart attack are things that I suffer from daily so I can't even use logic to talk myself down.

[neverendingford]

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[cyripticchronicler]

Hiii I have a request for Matt Murdock I was thinking him with an reader who’s job has gotten more stressful and it starts to get to them they get dizzy and lightheaded but brush it off until it happens around Matt and he can sense that it happened and he gets all protective and caring

Preferably fem reader but gn is also totally fine so everyone can enjoy it !

If this isn’t your cup of tea I totally get that !

In His Arms

Thank you for requesting, sweetie. I kind of went off track a little and I'm sorry :( (If you want me to rewrite it I happily will!) But either way, I hope you enjoy it!

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: Overwhelmed by your growing workload and the pressure to prove yourself, you keep your struggles hidden—even from Matt. When the stress leads to a breakdown, he pulls you back, reminding you that love means sharing the load.

TW: Panic attack, mentions of anxiety, pet names (I can't help it), swearing

Masterlist

Stress was a familiar feeling to you. Its sharp claws seemed always to be gripping onto you tightly. You’ve learnt how to manage the lack of air in your lungs and the painful squeezing of your heart whenever you go through a rough patch. 

That’s why the feeling of anxiety creeping up your spine was carelessly ignored. You regret that you shrugged the feeling away, too focused on your work. It’s much easier to calm your bones' nervous trembles before it worsens. 

But now it’s too late. 

You’ve been so distracted by your work. Your colleague had just gone on maternity leave after giving birth to twins. You weren’t sure what would happen to her workload, but you certainly didn’t think it would all be passed down to you. 

Now all your brain can seem to focus on is the deadlines coming closer by the minute. They flash in your mind each time you consider taking a break. You never take a break - this is your one chance to prove to your boss that you’re ready to take on more responsibility. The rumours floating around the office of potential promotions, motivating your hard work ethic. 

You’ve always been a hard worker; had always been distracted by what you consider important rather than what was essential- like eating, or sleeping. Each time you got away with it. You didn’t have anyone to look after you. 

Until Matt came along. 

He’s such an attentive man and would be even without his heightened senses. You knew he’d be worried about your desperation to complete your work, completely gone to the rest of the world as your stomach grumbled louder and your under eyes got darker. 

He’s a natural worrier. That’s what compelled you to keep your stress a secret. It’s hard lying to a human lie detector,  so you’ve taken to avoiding instead. It’s easy to avoid him when you’re so busy, anyway. A couple of messages per day seems to keep him subdued for now and you’re glad; it’s all the attention you could offer.

Your lip is pulled between your teeth, chewing hard enough to draw the taste of metallic blood. None of the words before you make sense through your blurry eyesight. As you attempt to read the same sentence for the third time, you angrily rip off your glasses and groan. 

Black spots take over your vision as you rub at your eyes aggressively, hoping the sickeningly dizzy feeling that’s making your throat feel tight will go away. It’s useless, yet you only allow yourself a second break before gulping down some water and returning to work. 

Your phone rings as soon as your fingertips touch the keys of your laptop and a curse slips out of your mouth before you can stop it. You hate yourself for the spark of annoyance that has your blood boiling when you read Matt’s name on your phone. 

He’d already left three messages from before. As well as a voice message that you hadn’t yet listened to; you were practically forced to answer the phone so as not to draw concern. You’re determined not to burden him with your issues - he’s a vigilante for God’s sake, he doesn’t need your petty problems on top of his own. 

“Hey, Sweetheart.” His deep voice crackles through your phone speaker. Instantly, your shoulders relax and your eyes flutter shut. He’s the bright sun during cold days, the flowers during winter; beautiful and everything you long to see.

“Hey, Matt.” You respond lazily, mustering up enough energy to open your eyes and read the words on your laptop screen. You use one hand to type while the other holds your phone to your ear. You can hear his smile in his voice. “I’ve barely talked to you all day. I thought you were coming to mine for dinner. Did you get my voicemail?”

Guilt nags at your stomach. “I’m so sorry, Matt,” the little sigh you can hear through the other line has your heart splintering, “I’ve just been so busy with staying on top of my work as well as Mara’s-”

“It’s okay. I know how busy you’ve been. I could come by with dinner. I can do some work while you do yours.” You hate to diminish the hope in his voice, but you know he'd be worried about your obvious stress as it shines through in your old clothing and unbrushed hair (not that he’d be able to see but feel). 

“Can we do a raincheck?” You whisper, guilt nagging at your stomach. His voice is so sweet. So understanding. It makes you want to cry. “Of course, baby. Try to eat, please. And take breaks. I’ll call you tomorrow; maybe we can go out for lunch.”

“Maybe,” If I’ve got enough work done, “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

You drop your phone on your lap as soon as the call ends. For once, you’re thankful for the large amounts of work, as it distracts you from the guilt that claws and tugs at your skin. 

⚝⚝⚝

The second time Matt calls, you’re nose-deep in paperwork that was slammed down on your desk. ‘More of Mara’s work,’ your boss said before leaving you with the rasing anxiety in your chest. Thoughts of taking your lunch break didn’t even assimilate in the blurry haze of your mind. 

Only the shrill ring of your phone brought you out of your bubble of work. Sighing, you don’t bother to check the name before picking it up, as you already know who it is. “Hey, Matt.” Your hand still scribbles words on the paper, phone pressed awkwardly against your ear by your shoulder.

“Hey. I called to see if you wanted lunch, but you sound busy.” Unlike last time, his voice doesn’t soothe your racing heart. If anything he makes it worse. “I’m so sorry,” you hope he can hear the sincerity in your voice, “I miss you. As soon as the crazy amount of work has subsided, I’ll call you.”

“Is there any way I can help?” You can’t help but smile at his caring nature, wanting nothing more than to be with him. But you know if you went to lunch you’d be too focused on work to be good company. “Remember that I love you?”

His laugh makes your heart melt, anxiety melting away with it. “Of course. As long as you remember that I love you. I won’t call so I don’t distract you from your work, but please take care of yourself. I love you so much, honey.”

“I love you too.” You hang up the phone and instead of returning to work immediately, you just sit there in silence, staring at the piles of paperwork in front of you. The sting of unshed tears joined by a nervous feeling in your stomach is enough to make you want to throw up. You’re so tired. 

You should have listened to your body. You should have gone out for lunch and taken a break. But instead, you got back to work, ignoring the bright red signs of a panic attack on the rise. 

⚝⚝⚝

Having been diagnosed with anxiety when you were younger, you’ve learned to identify signs of an upcoming panic attack. First, you begin to feel dizzy, then a little lightheaded. Your heart begins to hurt, and your stomach starts to turn. Then you can’t breathe, and you’re scratching at your skin to give your lungs more space to breathe. 

Now, as you stand in your kitchen, staring at the piles of paperwork that cover the dining room table, it’s hard to ignore how your body reacts to the sight of the never-ending workload; the feelings you so carelessly ignored before forced to be brought to attention. 

Your eyesight is unfocused, and you are unable to concentrate on the hand you’re using to prepare a small dinner. Your hands violently shake by your side and feel incredibly weak. But that isn’t what worries you; it’s the lack of air entering your lungs that has your eyes squeezed shut. 

Feelings of worthlessness travel up your throat and block your airways. You’re having a panic attack. The realization has you sliding down the fridge and to the floor, tears running freely down your flushed cheeks. You bring your knees to your chest, hands scratching at your throat as if it would allow air into your beaten lungs. 

Your body feels so weak, you’re sure you wouldn’t be able to stand up if you tried. You’re lost to the darkness and anguish the past weeks have wrought upon you; lost to the cruel insecurities your mind created to fool you into this vicious despair. 

No matter how hard you cry, how hard you claw and scrape at your skin, you still can’t breathe. Hopelessness washes over your chilled skin, pulling you into its shadows. You can do nothing but let it take you as its own, the fight for air warring off as you succumb to the darkness that spots your eyes. 

And as your eyes flutter shut, you fail to notice the opening of the window in the living room. You fail to notice the hurried steps and the gloved hands that hold your face gently. Or the man’s desperate calls of your name. 

⚝⚝⚝

The first thing you notice when you regain consciousness is the exhaustion that wracks through your frail body. The second thing is the man who lays next to you on your bed. 

Matt. 

He’s sleeping peacefully, chest moving up and down in slow breaths. You frown, unsure of why he’s here. The last thing you remember was you freaking out about the workload and having a panic attack. You must have fainted from the lack of air, you consider then immediately cringe. How embarrassing. 

“What are you thinking about?” You jump at the sound of Matt’s deep voice, eyes shooting up to watch a small smile grace his face at your reaction. “Why are you here?” The question comes out ruder than you intended, but Matt’s smile doesn't waver. 

“I was on patrol,” he begins, pulling you into his warm embrace, “and figured I’d stop by to check on you. I wasn’t going to come in, just listen-”

“-that’s not creepy at all-”

“-then I heard you panicking. Your heart was beating really fast and you were breathing really heavily. You were already passed out from lack of air by the time I was inside.” He pulls you in tighter like the moment still haunts him. You trace your fingertips gently down his bare arm, ear against his chest as you listen to his heartbeat. 

“What happened, sweetheart?” He asks when it became clear you weren’t going to speak. You sigh. “I’ve been a little stressed lately. And I should’ve listened to my body but I didn’t. There’s just so much work and such little time. I can’t handle all of this workload.” The familiar bite of tears has you shoving your head in Matt’s neck, letting him hold you tightly and reassure you that everything will be okay. 

“Why didn’t you tell me? We could have worked through your stress together,” He questions quietly and you shake your head in response. “You take the burden of everyone else’s problems, and still go out every night to face all the bad guys- I just didn’t want to burden you with my problems on top of all the rest.”

He pulls away and you try not to frown at the lack of contact. Slowly, his fingers move under your chin and compel you to look into his beautiful, unfocused eyes that sparkle in the city lights shining through your windows. “You are not a burden. Your problems are not a burden. I want to be here for you. I want you to tell me what’s going on in that smart little head of yours-” He flicks your forehead playfully before giving it a small kiss “-And I want you to know you can talk to me.”

You nod your head slowly, feeling like a child that’s just been scolded. “Okay.” He lays there in silence for a moment, seemingly contemplating his words before he speaks, “I think you need to talk to your boss,” you open your mouth to protest but he cuts you off with a gentle squeeze, “This amount of work isn’t healthy. I mean, why hasn’t the workload been separated and passed around to all of your co-workers? It’s fucking stupid if you ask me. She’s obviously taking advantage of your brilliance-”

“-Matt,” You cut him off with an amused smile. His eyes glint at the sound of your giggles as if that was his mission all along and he won first place. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me. If anything I’m being selfish.” He grins cheekily, kissing your palm as it raises to cup his cheek. “And why, pray tell, are you being selfish?” Your smile is sly and knowing. 

“Because I’m doing this to get my beautiful girl back and into my arms. Foggy isn’t as good company as you, y’know.” You giggle, holding him tightly as your mind settles on a decision. “I’ve missed you too.”

Tomorrow you’ll call your boss and ask for a lessened workload. But for now, you’re just going to lay in bed with the man you love dearly and let him hold you tightly. 

[rc-writes]

𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐥𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐲

𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩𝙨 | 𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙢

pairings: matt murdock x reader (could be both romantic & platonic)

warnings: reader has poor vision and can't really get around on their own without their glasses

a/n: brought to you by this little blurb i wrote a little while ago! completely inspired by me realizing a few weeks ago that i would be useless even in my own house without my glasses/contacts and then thinking about what would happen if i was outside anywhere lol

This could not be happening.

All you wanted to do was go home and celebrate by doing nothing the rest of the day because your boss let everyone in your department go home early. But then the elevator just had to be out of order, and you just had to take the stairs, and you just had to have happened to wear those shoes you couldn't fully walk correctly in just yet, and you just had to momentarily stumble on the third step down.

All events just had to happen in a domino effect that resulted in your glasses sliding off your face and then over the railing. You being forced to helplessly listen to them clank against other rails as they went down until they hit the ground, most likely shattering into a million pieces.

For a long moment you just looked over the railing, down into the blurry abyss as you contemplated whether or not you could make it the rest of the way down by yourself. A decision that was abruptly decided when you realized even if you made it the rest of the way down without falling, there was no way you would be able to make it back home. No way you could walk through New York City half blind and no way you would trust getting into a taxi without being able to see where they were taking you. You did NOT want to end up on one of those true crime shows all because you tripped on the third freaking step!

After another long moment of panic creeping in you suddenly remembered there was one person you could call for help. One person you knew would never let you hear the end of this but also someone who wouldn't laugh at you cruelly.

You had to call Matt Murdock. You had to call the one blind man in your life to guide YOU home.

And so, here you were sitting on the top of the steps as you searched through your phone contacts with your phone just a few inches from your face. A task so simple if it wasn't for the fact that if you moved your hand just the tiniest bit back you could no longer read the names on the screen and the fact that in your panicked state your hands shaking.

Finally, you found his name and clicked the call button as if your life depended on it. Which considering you probably couldn't tell who or when someone else entered the stairwell, this could be considered a life-or-death situation.

Unfortunately, however, at this moment Matt, Foggy, and Karen were in a meeting with a potential client at the office. Something that shouldn't have caused too much of an issue since Matt would normally have immediately left the room when his phone rang and said you were calling, but there was another domino effect in place.

Earlier that morning when Matt put his phone on his desk, he somehow accidentally set it to silent. There was no sound signaling someone was calling and it being in the other room meant no one could see that it was lighting up.

Not knowing why he wasn't answering, you were forced to leave a voicemail and pray he would get to it soon. And then when "soon" didn't happen you decided texting Karen to tell him to check his phone was the backup move. Though you refrained from telling her any details, not wanting your little mishap to spread to more ears.

This refraining being one of the three causes Matt was just about to have a heart attack in the middle of the office at 1pm.

The second being your vague and terrifying voicemail. "Matt can you please come get me from my work? I'm in the stairwell. Hurry please!"

The third being that any of his attempts to call you back failed, it kept going straight to the recorder.

Now while you were sitting in the corner at the top of the stairwell praying no one else used these stairs with a phone that died right before he tried to call, Matt was in the middle of Hell's Kitchen looking like a lunatic jumping from roof to roof.

"Hey, where did Matt go? He was just here?" Foggy had asked Karen about two minutes after Matt left.

"Uh, he just said he had to leave right now because his "world depended on it" and then he kinda just jumped out the window…"

"I'm going to kill him, I swear. We were so close to getting a client that actually wanted to pay us!"

As Matt drew closer and closer to your office building, he grew more and more confused. Yes, he could hear that there didn't seem to be any real danger around you, but that didn't explain why your heart was beating a million miles per minute.

"Wait, that's why you called me sounding so frantic? God, I thought you were hurt!" Matt said between a laugh and a huff when you explained to him your predicament.

"Well, my ego is definitely hurt so you weren't that far off." You had tried to joke. You couldn't exactly see the look on his face, but the blob in front of you looked vaguely like his hands were on his hips which told you he wasn't exactly in the joking mood at the moment.

Eventually, after just a few steps out the building the jokes from him did start piling in.

"One of us is legally blind, the other is partially visually impaired. Guess who's the one leading who!"

"I think you just stepped in an odd substance." "What!?" "Just kidding!"

"Watch out there's a car there." "Matt I'm pretty sure I can still see a giant metal rectangle five feet from me." "Just wanted to make sure!"

"Watch out for that lamp post!" "I'm pretty sure that's a dog." "No, I think it's definitely a lamp post."

Oh, how you wanted to just push him into oncoming traffic. If you did though you'd probably get charged with a hate crime, AND you would have to wonder half blindly the rest of the way back home.

So, you don't push him. this time. Matt could be such a little shit but who else would have dropped everything to scurry across the city at the odd chance that you were in trouble? Who else would make you feel not stupid about being afraid to go off on your own? Who else would make a situation that is incredibly terrifying in an insane city seem like just another fun day with someone you cared about? Who else could possibly replace Matt Murdock?

[fireinmoonshot]

safety first | boone x fem!reader

Pairing: Boone x Fem!Reader Summary: After a close call during a chase, you have a panic attack and Boone helps you through it and keeps you company afterwards. Warnings: Reader has a panic attack, slight PTSD/trauma references Word Count: 1.6k A/N: I've been wanting to write for Boone forever and finally I am here posting something for him. I love his character so much and this was fun to write. I'm definitely gonna be writing more for him in the future so please send in any requests for him (as well as other Twisters characters, of course)! I should be asleep right now cause I have work early in the morning but here I am, yet again being head over heels for the Twisters characters... anyway, enjoy! 💗

Six months ago, you had walked up to Boone and Tyler, standing around the truck waiting to head out on a chase, and told them that you were riding with them today.

Unsurprisingly, that hadn’t gone very well.

Ever since you’d joined the Wranglers, your job had been simple – stay with Dexter and Dani at a safe distance away from the tornadoes and edit the videos for YouTube. But you always felt like something was missing. That you couldn’t properly edit the videos to capture the true chaos of storm chasing if you weren’t experiencing it too.

Boone and Tyler had been incredibly against the idea, trying to convince you to stay with Dexter and Dani or even just ride with Lily if you wanted more of a thrill, but you hadn’t budged and eventually, they’d come around. 

They had only one condition: whenever you rode with them, there would be absolutely no driving into tornadoes. They’d get closer than Dexter and Dani, but not close enough that you could be seriously injured if something went wrong.

Technically it had been a condition of Boone’s but Tyler had agreed with it and you had too, realising that accepting it was your only chance at getting closer to the storms.

Today, however, things had gotten a little too close for comfort. Everything had been going to plan at first. The storm was a good one and when the tornado touched down, you were close enough to get a great view of it without being in the path. 

But then the conditions changed and with them, the direction of the tornado changed as well. 

You tried your best not to think about it as you washed your hair in the motel, enjoying the feeling of the hot water on your aching body. It had shaken you up enough when it had happened, you didn’t need to dwell on it any longer.

Just as you turn the taps off you hear a knock on the bathroom door. 

“No rush, but you nearly done in there?” 

Boone’s voice. The two of you were sharing a room at the motel. Everyone had paired off when you’d arrived and since you’d been the last one to grab your stuff, you also got the last room, which ended up being with Boone.

Not that you minded. Boone was a good roommate.

“Just about!” You call back, hurrying to dry off and get dressed so you can get out of the bathroom and let Boone have it. 

When you come out of the bathroom, towel drying your hair, Boone is sat on one of the two beds, feet kicked up comfortably. Your laptop is on his lap and by the sounds coming from it, he’s going over footage.

“You stealin’ my job, Boone?” 

He flashes you a grin. “Oh, I’d never. Gotta keep my girl around.” 

You ignore the butterflies that erupt in your stomach and cross the room towards him, perching on the bed beside him and  taking a glance at the screen. He hands you the laptop as he pushes himself up and off the bed. 

“Thought we could go over it together since we’re roomies for tonight,” Boone suggests. “I’ll shower and then we can try and get a start on the edit if ya don’t fall asleep on me first.”

You nod, happy about the idea of having someone else there to go over the footage with because of the stress of the day, and try your best to get comfy on the bed while he heads into the bathroom.

It doesn’t take long for curiosity to get the better of you, though, and you tap the space bar, making the video continue playing where Boone had stopped it. 

It’s honestly a little strange, watching the footage from a different angle of what you’d experienced from the back seat. It’s easy to admit that the chase today was the first time you were actually, genuinely afraid while chasing.

You watch the way the windscreen wipers catch on the windscreen, the debris and branches hitting it as Tyler tries to get you out of the path as quickly as possible. You can hear the sound of the wind rushing against the truck in the video, the rain pelting against the side of it and the feeling of the truck moving with the wind while Tyler desperately tries to keep control of it. 

It’s not until your breathe catches in your throat that you realise your heart is beating way too fast and your breaths are coming too quickly, too heavily. All of a sudden it feels like you can’t breathe anymore. Like there’s no more air to breathe at all.

You have no idea how long you’re sitting there, struggling to breathe, until you feel the bed dipping underneath you with the weight of someone sitting on it – Boone.

“Hey, baby you gotta breathe, c’mon,” Boone gently rests a hand on one of your knees in an attempt to help ground you again, thumb stroking it softly. “Can you look at me, baby?”

It takes all your strength to move your eyes from the now paused video on the laptop screen and up to Boone’s eyes. You have no memory of pausing it and realise that it must’ve been Boone who did it for you. 

Boone looks relieved when you meet his eyes.

“That’s it,” he nods. “Can you breathe with me? In and out, slowly. I’ll count with you, okay? One, two, three…” He breathes with you, taking long, deep breaths until you start to follow him.

You finally start to feel your heat beat start to steady and your breathing slowing down. But with it, you feel a little light-headed thanks to the hyperventilation. 

Boone continues counting with you until your breathing is back to normal. You squeeze your eyes shut and take another long, deep breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened.” Your voice sounds weak, even to your own ears, so you can’t imagine how it sounds to him – or how your lie sounds. You know exactly what happened and you know Boone does too.

He shakes his head. “Don’t apologise, ‘kay? You’re all right, you’re safe. Nothin’s gonna happen to you, I promise.”

You’re a little afraid to open your eyes again, not wanting to see the image still paused on the screen of the laptop, worried that it might bring back the panic you’d just fought so hard to get rid of, but it’s almost like Boone can read your mind.

“I closed the laptop, baby. You can open your eyes.”

Carefully, you blink them open and see the closed laptop sitting on the bed beside you. “Thank you,” you mutter. “But… wait, no, Boone, I need to start editing.”

Boone strokes a thumb over your knee. “Dex and Dani can do it. You’re not doin’ this one, ‘kay?” He pauses. “You wanna talk about it?”

You look at him for a moment before shaking your head. If you even try to talk about it, you’re not sure that you’ll be able to keep calm and the last thing you want is to have another panic attack in front of Boone, even though you know he wouldn’t judge you for it.

“It’s all right,” he assures you. “Honestly, kinda scared the shit outta me today too but probably for a different reason than yours.” He laughs a little, more at himself than at anything else.

“You don’t get scared by tornadoes,” you say.

Boone flashes you a smile. “No, but I do get worried about you, baby.” 

Your eyebrows knit together and you’re just about to ask Boone to elaborate on why he gets so worried about you when he cuts you off, once again almost like he’s reading your mind. 

“Not today,” he says. “Some other time when you’re not shakin’ like a leaf.” Boone shuffles to sit up beside you, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and tugging you into his side. He kicks the laptop out of the way towards the end of the bed. “C’mon, try and get some rest.”

“I’m not going to sleep on you,” you shake your head. “This bed is tiny.”

“Don’t care,” Boone says, resting his head against the back of the headboard. “I’m not movin’ till you’re fast asleep and gettin’ some well needed rest.”

You stare up at him. “Boone, you’ve had a big day, too.”

“Baby,” Boone looks down at you, his eyes serious. “Will you stop arguing with me and just try and get some sleep? Today was just a normal Tuesday for me, but it wasn’t for you.”

You sigh and rest your head on his shoulder, letting silence fall over you for a few moments. “I actually can’t sleep while my hair is still wet or I’ll feel gross in the morning.” Your words are quick, not wanting to irritate Boone any more.

Boone, however, hears every single one of them. He lets out an annoyed huff – even though he’s not annoyed at you in the slightest – and moves to slide off of the bed.

“Where are you going?” You sit up, slightly alarmed and already missing the warmth of his body beside yours.

“Don’t think I’m lettin’ you ride in the truck with us next time, baby,” he starts, changing the topic as he walks into the bathroom. “I know you wanna be up in the action more often to help with the videos, but you being safe is more important than getting views on Youtube.” 

“Boone–”

He emerges from the bathroom holding the motel hairdryer. “Is there a plug beside the bed?” He asks, wandering back over to you. “I’m gonna dry your hair for you. No arguing.”

[alchemistc]

Y'all were so insistent that I keep going with the Eddie Fixes It By Making It Worse post breakup fic.

This is officially a three-parter. Sorry. Or you're welcome.

You can read part one here

We have to make out in front of Tommy.

Buck's in the ice cream aisle, reminding himself that he has given himself three more days of moping and ignoring his diet before he gets his ass in gear and starts to live a life again. The Halo Top is mocking him, jeering and heckling as he goes for the Blue Ribbon. Mint chocolate, because Buck always loved it and he can almost forget the mock fight he'd had with Tommy three months in when he told Buck he refused to allow toothpaste flavored treats into his home, and how they'd barely gotten back to his place without a public indecency citation.

He stares at the text until his eyes cross.

What, he sends back, and slowly, cautiously, returns the pint of ice cream to its spot in the cooler. Maybe he should lay off the sugar. He's had enough.

Trust me

It comes in almost immediately and Buck tries to rewind, tries to figure out what any of this means, what the context is, why he's getting an actual Trust Me Bro from his best friend.

You've already met your last and it's not me comes crashing back to the forefront of his mind. He's had a full 36 hours to forget it, and he had been nearly there, nearly ready to chalk it up to Tommy trying to make him angry. Which he's been doing a really fucking excellent job of, lately. Almost like he knows all the buttons to push. Like Buck had given him the owners manual.

Tommy had meant Eddie? How could Eddie have possibly come to that conclusion? What the hell was he doing sending Buck half across town to the market for snacks when -

Buck judges the distance from this market to Eddie's. Then to Tommy's.

"Oh you mother -."

A woman squeaks by with her kid in the cart seat and glares.

---

Are you at Tommy's right now

No question marks. This is an accusation. Buck's thankful there are no perishables in his cart as he abandons it in the lane and hikes it towards the door. It's a dick move, and Buck feels, a little spitefully, like if anyone remembers him they'll remember him from the times he and Tommy giggled and play-fought down the aisles, so they'll think of Tommy when they think of the cart left behind. Resent him for it, maybe.

Not like Tommy isn't particularly good at just leaving things behind.

Yeah. Join me.

Buck breaks through the doors and feels a little woozy. This might be a panic attack. His chest fucking hurts.

🖕just get my stuff and meet me at yours. tell Tommy we burned all his shit

Eddie is an asshole. I'm not gonna LIE to the man. Also he definitely doesn't have an Evan box ready to go, so take what you will from that

Buck's still in that vicious cycle where he goes from angry to upset to sad in record time, no barriers in between, where every bruise feels like it's healing too fast so he keeps pressing in just to watch the color muddle. He hates this.

It'd be a Buck box, Buck texts back, just to release some of the pressure behind his temples, and he pulls in a few deep breaths before he jogs for the Jeep. He's gonna go home. Throw on the DVD copy of Sleepless In Seattle Tommy left behind and then maybe once that's done he'll throw the damn thing in a blender.

Are you coming or not?

Buck turns the ignition and peels out in a direction that won't lead to his own home, or the things Buck has been too much of a mopey bastard to pack up and return to their owner. At a red light two miles down the road, he shares his location.

Eddie sends back an ominous Hope you brushed your teeth today.

---

Eddie gets the door and it sucks just as much as if Tommy had. They barely ever spent time at Tommy's, and Buck can see it now for the boundary it was. When they had, though, their time had been split pretty evenly between Buck picking him up for a date, and Eddie wanting to leave the quiet echo of his own house to hang with them - a car on a lift and beers shared between them, Buck watching the pull of muscle beneath Tommy's shorts as he took Eddie down to the mat, Tommy's fingers drifting through the short curls at the back of Bucks head while Eddie yelled about triple-doubles and chatted with Tommy about how impossible coverage was for some guy named Joker.

Buck has never actually figured out who that guy was. Eddie hated the Mavericks and he hated the Lakers but Eddie also complained about the guy so much he definitely wasn't a Clipper.

Eddie gets him by the forearm when Buck shows clear signs of regretting this. Drags him through the front door before Buck can fully execute his spin and stomp back to the Jeep.

Tommy's next door neighbor had waved at him from her yard where she was doing something new with her display of bird sculptures, and Buck hadn't had the heart to do anything but raise his hand back.

It's less than ten seconds before Eddie is steering him down the hall, into the living room. It's cozy in here. Lived in. Mismatched furniture that somehow fits, a blanket thrown over the side of the couch, dark wood tables and light wood flooring and lamps that look like they came from an estate sale up in the Hills. A huge ass TV set above the mantle of a gas fireplace that Buck never even had the opportunity to see working before... Before.

Tommy is a shadow coming out of the kitchen, and Buck can't help but be a little pleased that he looks as crappy as Buck feels.

---

Eddie claps his hands together before either of them can get a word in. "Okay. Here's the thing. You're both dumbasses and there's a lot of shit that you guys gotta figure out on your own. But apparently you," he points at Tommy with the lip of a beer bottle. Corona. Tommy hates the stuff, and Buck is reminded once again how dearly Eddie loves him, "need empirical evidence that there's no deeply repressed sexual tension between Buck and I. So."

"You're insane," Tommy says, and Buck feels like snapping at him. He's probably right. This is an insane thing to do. Eddie ambushed his ex and then ambushed Buck in the frozen treats aisle and now he wants to kiss Buck to prove a point? What??

Eddie ignores it. Turns to Buck. "How do you wanna do this?"

And now would be the time, actually. Now would be the time to cut the thread, make it clean, break it for good. Only despite his protest, Tommy is staring between them and his expression looks almost... hungry. Frightened, at the same time. Oh. Oh.

He really had thought...?

Eddie's a fucking idiot. Buck doesn't want to kiss him. He's squared with the fact that he definitely had a crush when they first met and he's definitely been attracted to Eddie and just not realized it but he doesn't want Eddie. He doesn't want a life with Eddie, not like that. He doesn't- He isn't -

He loves Eddie more than almost every other person on the planet, but he's not in love with him.

Buck squares his shoulders. Nods. "Yeah, okay," and then he's taking three strides to meet Eddie at the coffee table.

---

"Oh come on, are you serious?"

Buck ignores the exclamation from the peanut gallery. Tries to figure out where to put his hands. He's never really noticed the height difference before. It's barely anything - a couple inches at most - but it feels like he's looming, this close. Which is stupid. He's been this close to Eddie a million times.

Eddie bends his knees to set the beer down. Darts his gaze back up to Buck.

Buck's seen him pull this move before, and has to bite down the urge to cackle because those big brown cow eyes have charmed women up and down California and probably plenty of Texas too but the only time Buck's ever seen them look genuine was when he was looking at Shannon.

He's got a good face. Angular in all the right places, expressive in a way a lot of men try to hide. Good eyelashes, clear skin.

Eddie gets a thumb in one of Buck's belt loops and tugs.

It's a good move. It's a move that has inspired Buck to sink to his knees on more than one occasion with the right men. Man. Just the one man.

He desperately bites back a giggle when the front of their thighs brush and Buck feels nothing more than the heat coming off Eddie.

Eddie's flushed, just a little, like he's well aware how ridiculous this all is, but he's got his I'm So Fucking Serious face on and there is a part of Buck, something fucked up and broken and wrong, that wonders how Tommy would feel to see it. To know that Buck is out there in the world kissing people who aren't Tommy. It's not like he'd ended things because he didn't care for Buck, because he wasn't attracted to him. It's gotta sting, right?

Buck gets a hand on Eddie's waist, just above his hip bone. He's never actually paid attention to how much more slim Eddie is, before, how big Buck's hands feel against him.

The night Tommy had first kissed him, Buck had spent an indeterminate length of time replaying every second of the interaction. The lead up, the frank honesty, the way Buck's entire body had followed the flow of Tommy's. Heart racing, body thrumming: when Tommy had ducked his head, when he'd laughed, when he'd opened up his body language and dropped a tiny morsel of his heart, Buck had felt himself drawn in.

The lips that had caught his had set him alight.

Eddie shifts his weight and blinks up at him and for half a second Buck wants this to be a good kiss - earth shattering, life changing. He wants to feel it. Wants it to be better than every kiss he and Tommy ever shared.

The pointer and middle finger he uses to tilt Eddie's chin up are petty as hell.

[artvscvntymullet]

THE THINGS YOU CARRY - GEORGE CLARKE

content warnings : past toxic relationship, degrading comments, small mental spiral, panic attacks, light alcohol consumption

A/N : i'm not sure what it is with me and angsty shit, this starts off quite heavy, but does get lighter, i promise and PLEASE ignore the unusual character interactions, i am trying but the layout is a bit shit icl, but ill blame it on this not being proofread

masterlist here !!

The day started fine - normal, even. You’d laughed at something Liv sent in the group chat. You were walking with headphones in, weaving through crowds, thinking about what to wear to Simon and Talia’s tonight. It was fine.

Until it wasn’t. You were turning a corner near the station when you saw him, your ex.

You froze. You wanted to believe it wasn’t him. Maybe just someone who looked like him. But no — he smirked, and your stomach twisted. It was him. “Well,” he said, looking you up and down, “didn’t think you’d still be walking around like you own the place.”

You hadn’t seen him in months, at least not since your breakup. Not since he called you clingy and ungrateful and said loving you felt like “dragging a dead weight.” Not since he twisted your softness into something shameful and your kindness into something weak.

“Just leave me alone,” you said quietly, stepping to the side.

But of course he followed. He always did. “You look rough,” he said. “You sleeping okay? Not that anyone’s probably noticing anymore.”

You winced.

“Still dressing like that, too? Jesus, no wonder I got bored.”

There it was — your throat closed up, breath hitching. You used to cry in the shower about that stuff. About how you never felt pretty enough, never felt good enough. You told him those fears at 2AM, the ones that kept you awake. He’d kissed them off your skin and now he was flinging them at you like knives.

You didn’t remember walking away. You just remembered the cold, the blur, the echo of his voice pounding behind your ribs.

By the time you got to Simon and Talia’s, the house was already buzzing. Music floated through the open windows, laughter spilling into the street. People you knew, your friends were already inside.

Flo and Talia waved from the kitchen - both nursing drinks. Chris and Freezy were arguing about something by the window. Chip was doing shots with Television while Liv rolled her eyes fondly at something Bach had said.

George was there too and he caught your eye immediately, his face lighting up when he saw you — the kind of smile that reached his eyes. Your chest ached.

You tried to act normal, you made it maybe twenty minutes. You laughed at something Sabina said. You sipped whatever drink Liv handed you, but everything felt off. Like you were watching the night through a window, like the world was underwater.

Then, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from, he was there. Your ex who was fucking leaning against the wall like he belonged there. Like he hadn’t torn you apart this morning and left the pieces in the street. He clocked you immediately and smirked.

Your body went rigid. Every nerve in your body screamed to run, to hide, to disappear. You turned sharply and ducked down the hallway, trying to get to the bathroom. Your vision blurred, you couldn’t breathe and panic slammed into your chest like a tidal wave.

You found a corner. Somewhere dark and somewhere small. You collapsed onto the floor, hands shaking uncontrollably. You couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry. Couldn’t move.

Someone was calling your name. You couldn’t respond. Then a new voice. “Hey, hey, hey, I’ve got you. You’re alright. Just breathe.”

George. He knelt beside you, voice calm, soothing and grounding. “Can I touch you?” he asked gently. “Just your hand, just so you know I’m here.”

You nodded - barely.

He took your hand, warm and steady, anchoring you. “You’re safe, you’re not alone. I’ve got you, okay?”

But your panic didn’t break. He looked around, clearly torn, then called out without letting go of you: “Talia? Someone come help please.”

Talia appeared first, then Liv. You heard murmurs, soft, worried. Someone closed a door as another dimmed a light. Talia was on the phone, asking Simon and JJ to get your ex the fuck out of the flat.

You still couldn’t speak. You were trembling, sweating. Your whole body betrayed you.

George stayed the entire time. Not once did he let go.

Eventually, the storm began to ease. Your chest still ached, but the waves weren’t quite drowning you anymore. You were exhausted and embarrassed, but ultimately relieved.

“Hey,” George said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. “Let’s get you out of here, yeah? Come home with me, you can sleep. You don’t have to say anything. Just let me take care of you.”

His flat was warm, quiet. You sat curled on the edge of his bed, hoodie pulled over your knees. He gave you water and let you change into one of his big shirts. He didn’t ask questions, and thank god he didn't, otherwise you may have just crumbled there and then.

“Stay here,” he said gently. “I’ll take the couch.”

But your voice finally returned, a croaky whisper: “Can you stay? Just, I don’t want to be alone.”

His expression softened. “Of course.”

He climbed into bed next to you, careful to keep space between you until you shifted closer seeking out the warmth, the safety that he held. You felt his arm wrap around you, careful, protective.

Sunlight streamed through the window as you blinked awake slowly and quite disorientated.

George was still there looking handsome as ever with his eyes closed and face peaceful. His arm was still around you, your head on his chest. You listened to the steady beat of his heart. And then it all came rushing back.

You sat up quickly. He stirred, eyes fluttering open. “Hey,” he said, voice deep with sleep. “You okay?”

“No,” you whispered honestly. “But better.”

He sat up too, concern etched into every crook of his face. “You don’t have to talk about it if you’re not ready.”

But for once, you were. You told him everything. Not just about the panic attack. About the relationship, the manipulation, the shame. The way your ex made you feel like loving you was a burden and about how hard you’ve tried to unlearn that.

George was silent, jaw tight. His eyes shimmered.

“Sorry,” you added. “That was a lot.”

He shook his head, “Don’t you ever apologize for that,” he said, voice cracking. “God I don’t know how anyone could treat you like that. You’re… you’re kind. And funny. And brave as fuck. I see how you light up a room, and he tried to make you think you were too much?”

He looked at you like you were something sacred. He leaned in. You met him halfway. "We don't have to do anything yet," he mumbled, in between kisses, "you don't have to do, or say anything. I'll just be here."

By the time you both made your way to Simon and Talia’s that afternoon, you were still trying to push past the heavy fog of insecurity your ex had planted. George, however, was a constant — you hadn't talked about the kiss but he was always present, always there when you needed him. He kept a quiet, steady hand at your back as you walked through the door, his presence grounding you in a way that made the chaos of seeing everyone feel far less intimidating.

The moment you stepped inside, Simon was the first to notice you. His gaze flickered between you and George, a questioning look on his face. Everyone else was chatting, most of them stayed over the night before, but their eyes were quick to fall on you too, like they were waiting for some kind of sign that you were okay.

“You alright?” Simon asked, voice low but filled with concern. He wasn’t used to seeing you this quiet, and the way you’d left the party last night hadn’t gone unnoticed.

“I’m okay,” you replied, your voice just a little too thin. You didn’t want to lie, but you also didn’t want to burden them. “Still a little shaken.”

Talia and Liv immediately crowded around you, their arms warm and welcoming. Talia gave you a soft smile. “You don’t have to be okay right now,” she said. “But we’re glad you’re here.”

The other friends started to gather too. Bach, the Arthur's, many who had been at the party the night before — and they gave you knowing looks, offering their usual teasing and jokes. But underneath all of it, there was an unspoken understanding. They didn’t push you to talk, didn’t ask for the details. They just let you be, to which you couldn't be more grateful.

Later that evening, as the group slowly found their way to the terrace for some fresh air, you pulled George aside. The weight of the night before and the morning still lingered on your mind, and you weren’t sure how much more of it you could carry without breaking.

You leaned against the railing, your fingers lightly gripping the metal, as you tried to steady yourself. It wasn’t the ex anymore. It was everything; the pressure of being “okay,” the pressure of keeping up appearances.

“You’re not alone, you know,” George said, his voice quiet but firm as he stood beside you, as if he could read your mind.

“I feel like I am sometimes,” you admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Like, no matter how many people I have around me, I’m still carrying this weight. I feel like I’m just too much sometimes.”

George turned toward you, his eyes soft but intense. “Listen to me. You are not too much. You are not broken and I know you feel like you’re carrying the weight of the world, but you don’t have to do it alone. I’ve got you.”

You looked up at him, his words sinking deep into you. You could feel your chest tighten again, but this time it was because of something entirely different. It was the feeling of someone caring. The feeling of being seen.

“I’ve liked you for a while,” you said quietly, a little scared of the words that left your lips, but trusting him. “Like… a long while.”

His expression softened, that familiar smile creeping into his eyes. “Yeah? Funny. I’ve liked you for ages too, and this morning, you being so brave, just proved it. So what now?”

You took a deep breath. “I think we take it slow. But I think it’s time I stop pretending I’m not falling for you.”

George stepped closer, his hand reaching for yours, his fingers intertwining with yours so naturally it almost felt like it had always been that way.

“I’m not going anywhere, okay? Not while you’re figuring this out.”

[adams-angels]

Adam sfw/nsfw hcs? I love your work! Thanks!!

💖 Please send me requests! Send me your own headcanons! I will draw! I'm obsessed rn!💖

SFW

I'm gonna start off strong by saying socks and sandals. Thinks it's great.

Will stop listening when he's losing an argument. Stutters and minces up his words if he gets flustered or too aggravated.

Lute is his best friend

Says he has tons on friend but in reality lute is his only friend

This man thinks he's higher up in the food chain than he actually is. Which then leads to weak apologies from him

Doesn't go anywhere without his mask. Really big believer in that he doesn't like showing his face because both his wife's left him

Still absolutely bitter about that btw

Has an unhealthy coping mechanism when it comes to jealously.

For example, your an angel and some newbie starts talking with you and there's nothing really in it but he opens a portal to hell when your not looking and literally kicks the guy through it before closing the portal.

Or if your a sinner and you're telling him about someone who helped you the other day he will HUNT THEM DOWN next extermination day... If he can wait that long.

Likes getting you lil gifts, key chains, magnets, pins. He'll see a little thing and think that's perfect and wont hesitate buying it for you.

He won't give it to you though. He'll leave it somewhere obvious in his apartment for you to notice and go "oh, that's cute." For him to shrug and say "it's okay. You want it?" It took a while before you actually started accepting gifts this way

In public he will get you the biggest things. Giant teddy bear. New TV. A unicorn. But that's just to show everyone that he spoils you. That no one can treat you as well as him.

Loves lazy days

Also loves it when you preen his wings

Was the kinda guy that didn't have any kind of skin care until he met you and now you're both chilling with facemasks on.

Has panic attacks when he thinks you're going to leave him

When he's not wearing his mask he will not smile. It's really difficult to get him to smile or laugh when he's not wearing a mask.

But he's got the most beautiful smile

You managed you get him to laugh because you fell. What? He's still an asshole.

You couldn't be mad at him. He sounded so happy.

Has dumb pet names for everyone he's close to. Some are cute. Some are absolutely vulger. "Sweetness." "Babe." "Cutie" "cockwarmer." "Adam's dumpster." "Precious."

He's insecure AF baby

Loves hearing you say you love him

Will only tell you he loves you in private.

Would take a very special case for him to say it in public

If you get in a serious argument with him he'll run away in anger. He'll then come back after an hour or so begging you not to leave.

Sorry I really love pathetic Adam. fight me.

Smut below the cut! Minors dni

NSFW

Ik everyone says it's great at sex but I don't think he would be 🤷🏻‍♀️ not at the beginning anyway

I think he's a selfish lover and it takes someone he really cares about to make any changes

Would absolutely finish inside you then fall asleep soz babes

His cock is good tho. Likes it's a biggen. Length and width.

It was probably made to fit perfectly so

At least that's what he says

He won't believe it if you dont orgasm the first time you have sex with him. Everyone else has! Why wouldn't you?!

Well, Adam, they lied, sweetie.

Loves getting his cock sucked.

Asks for it constantly

If he gets in an argument with you he'll probably say "I'm sorry, it's just been so long since I got head."

He loves eating you out. Watching you squirm while his tongue is inside you really gets him going.

Likes you have you sat on his face so he can hold you down

He cried the first time he had sex with you after realising he loves you

Will beg to be loved when he's close to finishing. "Tell me you love me!"

Will get embarrassed after the fact

He was adamant he didn't like you. That you were just hot. But one day found himself jerking to the thought of you and that post nut clarity hit like a freight train.

Loves being praised ofc

Breeding kink. I mean come on. He was made to populate the earth. It was literally his job.

Loves rough sex, being in charge.

Will get possessive during sex

If he's having a bad day he'll be a lot more desperate and a hell of a lot more possessive

"mine" is his favourite word.

～⁠♡✧⁠｡ I really hope you enjoyed! I'm not a writer by any means but I appreciate any support I receive so thank you for reading! ｡✧⁠♡～⁠

[libraford]

Hi, I just wanted to say congrats on the organ removal! You talking about your uterus health has also made me realize that some of the things I experience monthly are not really normal, so I'm also extremely grateful that you're so open about this. I'm almost 28 and I don't know if I ever would have realized it without you. Thank you, for your art, your photography especially, your openness, and your kindness.

<3

Yeah, part of the reason I've been talking so openly about it is that I'm pretty sure that the way people are so 'hush hush' about reproductive health was one of the contributing factors for why it took so goddamn long to actually get this checked.

Like... learning at 37 that PMS isn't supposed to be debilitating panic attacks and uncontrollable emotional outbursts paired with extreme abdominal pain.

Or that clots are supposed to be about the size of a dime, not a silver dollar.

That you're supposed to lose about 1/3cup menstrual fluid (which includes blood but also other discharges) and not go through an entire big box of the Size 5 8-hour overnight pads in three days.

And all of this, all of this... ALL of this is because there's a tumor inside my uterus that's eating all my estrogen.

Like... I kept going on thinking that these were normal things and I was just maladjusted and not handling it well.

OBVIOUSLY, I am still angry at the whole situation.

I am extremely thankful that Planned Parenthood was able to refer me to a doctor that was willing to work with me on all of this. Like I don't know where you are on your journey, but they were an incredible resource.

[writingwisterias]

How would the different eras of leon comfort a reader who had a bad childhood/ still dealing with abusive parents? For material, theres lotta nightmares about parents, hallucinating, and anxiety symptoms

-🪻

Hi 🪻!

I would love to do this for you! I hope you enjoy and have a good day!! 💕 I rambled a lot with this one as well, just healing myself along the way

Warnings: Nightmares, Childhood Trauma, Comfort, Fluff, PTSD, Mentions of abuse

Gn!Reader

RE2:

He has the most experience with nightmares, he would have them to after everything

I'm thinking of a Leon between RE2 -RE4R

So because he has his own he would have a way to calm down quickly without waking you up. That is until he notices you suffer from them to.

His nightmares make him a light sleeper so I think he would notice something wrong very quickly and immediately pull you into his arms to wake you up.

Depending if it's a night terror or just a nightmare he would wake you up slowly, kisses, soft talking etc

If it's a night terror he would want you to be awake as quickly as he can. So he's shaking you or whatever.

If he knows about what happened in your childhood say for example abuse from parents, he would keep his touch firm but caring if he's waking you up from a night terror.

He'd prefer if you would be open about what the dream was about and your history so he can help you in the best way he can without further causing issues.

Also wouldn't care if you need plushies to sleep, he'd rather have the whole bed covered in them if it would help you sleep. (Really like squishmellows or any Kenji plush)

RE4R:

I like to think this Leon is probably the quietest. Like he's a simple guy and would have music in the background of his apartment at low volumes etc

So you find a lot of comfort here, if you still lived at home with your parents he would let you use his apartment even if he was away on mission

He wouldn't even talk to you either if you didn't want it, he's happy to just have you in his space.

If he's not around and you use his place, he'll make sure to leave a hoodie/shirt for you to use and he doesn't care if you use his bed

He's also happy to do whatever you want to do, so if you do want to talk and chill then he's more than happy to do that.

His chilled out attitude is just great if your household is chaotic and loud, it's a mini escape.

Infinite Darkness:

With this era of Leon I think he would be really good at either preventing anxiety attacks or helping you out of them.

I mean look at how he comforts Patrick at the start of the show, it's such a small interaction but he stays for like an extra few seconds to ensure he's okay because he spots that he's not

He's like a quite observer

So if your anxiety is based on childhood issues like maybe expectations that your parents have placed on you whenever they mean to or not.

He would be very quick to spot any signs of you becoming uncomfortable

Let's face it he's probably already watching you anyway because he always does but he's the type of person to acknowledge the signs that you are doing to have a panic attack

Leon is also not the type of guy to make it a big deal either, like I said with Patrick is a small conversation that no one else really sees or pays attention to so hes not going to bring attention to you at all

It could be a small touch or hand hold. Maybe even creating an excuse to leave

If you are in private I think he would talk to you to distract you from it, or just sit there in silence if you wanted to walk through it alone.

Damnation:

I think he gives the best hugs and has a really protective nature

Again let's say it's something to do with passive aggressive parents I don't think he would hesitate to jump in and defend you

If he found out that it was perhaps more physical abuse than mental he's not letting you near them at all

He would understand if you didn't want to cut them off like he's not going to force you to do that

But he would be silently mad and very watchful when you do interact with them

He's also mindful of how he interacts around you.

Especially with his drinking habits if that's something that makes you feel uncomfortable

RE6:

Following along with the protective nature I think he would amplify this

Like he's not letting anyone near you during an anxiety/any type of episode

I also think he's a great listener so if you do need someone to talk to he's your man

He would offer advice if you need it, he has a lot on how he deals with things and will try his best to not let you follow in his footsteps.

Again with his home being a safe space I think he would actively make sure it is one for you instead of himself

Like say you go out shopping and spot a blanket or something you like he would buy it and keep it at his place

Your parents didn't let you have this toy dw he's got it

He has a lot of money that if you came from a poorer background and are conscious about your own money he will spend it for you

You cannot mention you want anything around him because he'll find it and get it

Vendetta:

Considering in the film Chris mentions that Leon is drinking early in the day I think he would drink that early to either forget a nightmare or get an early start to being able to sleep

So I would think him helping you through your own nightmares would draw him away from this behavior

Both of you working together to create an environment that helps you both sleep is how you would do it

By this I mean,maybe you need nightlights so you would find one that works for the both of you. Same with bedding or the general layout of the room

I think he would prefer to be the bigger spoon, since a lot of Leon's trauma comes from failure to protect people it would make him think he's doing a good job.

I would also say that he would prefer it if the bed was as far away from the door/window as possible and against a wall so you can be tucked away from danger behind him

But if you do have a nightmare and wake him up, he's not going to be mad. He'll talk to you about it if you need that and will help soothe you back to sleep

Not only because he knows you'll return the favor but because it actually helps him

Like maybe he runs his hands through your hair it's almost soothing for him doing the same motion over and over again

Death Island:

Much like infinite darkness I think he's going to be the quiet observing type so if you do space out or start of have anxiety he'll spot it

He's still wouldn't make a scene but would prefer to remove you from the situation entirely with or without an excuse

He doesn't care what your parents think they are assholes anyway for treating you like that

In the same scenario he has an idea of how he would be a parent so I don't think he would baby you but almost apply some of the methods to actually help you out in terms of feeling the right love

I also think he would just generally heal you in any toxic relationship you've had by just showing you the opposite whenever he's doing it on purpose or not

He would make sure he's not overstepping any lines in your healing journey and would want you to take the reigns but if you need to hand them over to him he's okay with that

He'll be your brick wall in whatever you need him

Can't sleep? He's staying up with you and even after you fall asleep don't worry

[little-forest-goblin]

The Art of Valentine

❤️ Valentines day special ❤️

Synopsis: Five had you as a coworker at the CIA. You guys could be described as work wife and work husband by other coworkers and also because everybody can feel the unspoken desire, wanting, love and care. Eventually this all boils over.

Note: this story is in season 4 but there is no forbidden relationship (AKA five and lila) and the universe did not reset. The cleanse was just a cult of crazies.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

Five had a crush that he completely thought qas hopeless. HOPELESS. He kept telling himself to stop dreaming of her when you know that it wont happen! Sadly his ass was not cooperating with his logical albeit twisted logic. Either way he liked you.

You and he were described as a work wife and husband to everyone. If I went up to them and asked about the two of you it would be that exact description. Some coworkers found it annoying while others found it kind of adorable and were betting on the two of you ending up together

God five was hoping the same thing and little did he know you did too.

It was a normal office day. Five going through files on the newest case. After finding out that the director was a part of the cleanse cult they obviously replaced him and just so happened to replace him with five.

They found that five were more than qualified for the job of CIA director. He did appreciate it because he got quite a hit of money and it was quite an achievement.

You came into the office with a new file for the case they were working on. “Well hello handsome. I have the file you asked for”

he looked up and sipped his coffee and smiled setting it down “You keep talking like that and you might get yourself in trouble”

you chuckled and walked over to the desk setting the file down “Maybe i want to be in trouble”

he smirked and leaned forward towards you. Your breaths mingled and his body even though you didn't touch yet was warm. “Don't make me spank you, honey.”

you blushed and moved back “w-well than i guess i should behave” you turned and moved to walk out.

he swallowed and his eyes trailed down your body. His heart was pounding. Once you left he was in a panic. He let out a strangled breath his hands on his desk and his heart pounding he was sure he was dying

“I'm dead this is it. Her beauty has killed me. Her wit has killed me. A MURDER!!!”

Meanwhile, outside the office a few coworkers heard him yell after you left. One of the coworkers that had a mug of coffee was talking to one leaning against the wall “You think he has a photo of her in his wallet she doesn't know about?”

the coworker leaning against the wall nodded “Probably”

Meanwhile five was having a heart attack induced by you. Good god save him now. He took a shaky sip of coffee.

“God save me now”

Soon after he needed more coffee and sadly he didn't have a coffee machine in his office which meant he had to go outside and possibly interact.

He left his office making his way to the break room as quickly as possible without distractions or unnecessary conversation. He got into the breakroom and sighed where there were only a few girls talking in the corner on their breaktime.

He headed to the machine and was pouring himself a cup and maybe he was eavesdropping…a little.

“Oh my god i didn't even catch that it was february! I am not looking forward to this.” one of the girls said with a annoyed sigh as she sipped whatever was in her mug

Another girl who had her hair done up in a messy bun and looked far too tired to be working nodded “I agree. What's the point of valentines if you dont got one” the other girl agreed

Another girl who was enjoying a complimentary bag of chips that were usually in a little wicker basket on the counter looked at them like they were crazy “What? you guys don't like valentines? That's crazy.”

the same girl who started the conversation about february playfully rolled her eyes “Well cassie not everyone has a girlfriend like you to share the month with”

the girl who was supposedly named cassie blushed “Hey! don't go yelling that! What if the wrong person hears I keep my life private you know!”

They chuckled and headed out of the break room once it was up. Five was left there with a pit in his stomach. Its february which means valentines day.

He rushed to the office and checked his calendar. Oh fuck…

He hated Valentine's Day but it still made him so nervous. He hated it because he would get a valentine from people he didn't want and never from the person he did but his hopes were always up that maybe he would get one. His heart would hurt every single year you’d think he would forget.

he didn't care much for valentines after the first apocalypse but once he got back and experienced holidays like valentines all over again he was smitten with a lot except for valentines day.

his family tried to encourage him to meet people and actually find love or a valentine. He sat in his office chair thinking. Maybe he should try this year.

And so he set a plan. Multiple plans actually. Plan A’s and B’s just in case one didn't work.

~Timeskip~

None of them worked. He failed. He got cold feet. He knew he shouldn't have. He used to be an assassin but you brought out that side of him. You made him nervous. All the flirting and your genuine care and the fact that you would listen to him and engage in deep thought it was…nerve wracking.

He thought all hope was lost. He would be destined to be alone because he can't crawl out of the shell that he perfectly built and well…perfected.

He walked down the hall just needing a minute away from his work and stuffy office and from the file. He must’ve not been paying attention because he bumped into somebody that he learned was you.

“Oh shit!” you yelled as you fell right onto your ass

he turned around, his eyes widening. He was mentally cursing himself and his entire biological bloodline. “Oh god, y/n I'm so sorry. I was not paying attention.”

you stood dusting yourself off “No no it's alright it seems you're out of it.”

he chuckled nervously pink dusting his cheeks. If he wasn't so nervous maybe he would notice your own pinkened cheeks. His mouth began running faster than he could think and before he could think of the possible consequences he blurted out:

“Would you be willing to go on a date with me?!” his eyes widened along with yours.

He just asked you out right? That wasn't you just dreaming right? before you could talk he blinked away. he was gone within a flash. You were left speechless. You looked down each end of the hall hoping to see if you could catch him but sadly he couldn't.

you sighed and leaned back against the wall. Your head hit the back of the wall and you sighed. Once you were ready after a quick debrief in your head you saw a wallet on the floor left where he was. Your eyebrows furrowed ans picked it up. Surely it wasnt fives right?

You opened it and saw his Id and license in the pouch. You were gonna close it till a paper fell out. You quickly picked it up. Now you knew you shouldn't snoop through his things but you couldn’t help it. You flipped it over and saw it was a photo of you.

your eyes widened a blush forming. You…he had a photo of you. You thought he wouldn't like you like that. A really long time of pining over him and he…he liked you back. He sounded so nervous.

You opened your phone and saw the date. February 13th. Perfect.

>Next day<

five got to his office feeling miserable. No valentines for him once again and he blew it. He opened his office and set down his briefcase on a side table by the door. He flipped on the lights.

What he saw made his eyes widen. On the desk was a bouquet of flowers. A beautiful bunch of roses with dark green ferns in it. It was gorgeous.

Inside he saw a card. He picked it up and opened the card. Inside read

“To Five hargreeves.

You left your wallet in the hallway when you blinked away. I returned it to you. It is in your front desk drawer. Also about that date, id love to go. How does at 8 tonight sound? See you then lover boy.

Love, y/n l/n”

His eyes widened and his heart pounded. The card was from you. He held the flowers close until he sat down and set it down on the desk. He opened the front drawer and there his wallet was.

He picked it up and opened it. He saw a new piece of paper that he had never seen before. On it had writing it read

“I saw the photo of me in your wallet. I decided to give you a better one. A personal favorite of mine”

he flipped it over and saw it was a photo, obviously. A more precious one. One of you and him laughing at a table together over an inside joke you two made.

As he sat back in his desk looking at the photo of you two laughing at the joke and your legs under the table were slightly intertwined, you and him were close and intimate but far enough that distance didn't seem so little anymore.

That's what made it all the more special.

———————————————————————

Hi guys! I know some of you might be looking for a valentines smut story but i decided not to do that but i can create another if you want just give me some time! I love you guys please be safe out there ❤️

[princeofstarspost]

Sorry for lack of post, work has been absolutely kicking my ass, so I'll drop these little low effort headcannons I came up with after doing the newest genshin event. GN fairy reader. Slight spoilers??

Also to the person who sent in your Zzz request I promise I will work on it soon. Forgive me.

Wanderer:

He's very much the type of guy who even though he thinks of you as the gorgeous forest fairy, he's not gonna say it to your face. He will show up when you need help and act all reluctant about doing things for you even though he enjoys them. Then one day out of nowhere he will be staring at you and just accidentally blurt out what he's feeling like, "You're beautiful sunshine."

Then we all die.

Navia:

Girl literally calls you her partner and would die for you, so to say she'd be the type to compliment you with no shame is a understatement. The two of you would be walking through the paper woods and she would just go, "By the way, I just thought I'd tell you how much I appreciate you and all you have done for me. You truly have my heart, partner." And then she'd wink at you as your face turned bright red.

Kazuha:

Why's he here? Cause I like him shush. Anyways, forest fairies are a great source of inspiration for poems yeah, but he'd also want to draw you as well. Combine both his word building of your powers and beauty along with a image that he says could never truly capture the wonder that you are, but give those who look at it a glimpse. Then he'd ask if you wanted to sit under a paper tree and share bulle fruits with the flying squirrels.

Diluc:

Lets be honest, he wouldn't believe you at first. Forest fairy? Not real. Then he'd look around him, see the paper forest and probably have a little mini panic attack without moving a single muscle or looking any different on the outside. He'd eventually loosen up after you explain things and I don't know why, but I totally see him dancing with a fairy reader. If it helps the forest...he will oblige, albeit reluctantly.

Alhaitham:

Wouldn't be fazed in the slightest. Couldn't actually care less that he's in a different world, he's read fairytales before, he's seen what visions can do so it's no shock to him. You however, kinda surprise him. Normally he's always nonchalant about others, but you...he doesn't mind letting you sit with him while he reads. He doesn't even mind helping you when you need him too, his ways of romancing are subtle, but sweet.

Damn, actually wrote alot of these. I wanna do this again with more time and I'm also hungering to write some smut too so whenever I'm not struggling to stay awake after work I'll be posting more~

[buckyalpine]

Ex!Bucky fluff

I’m about to break hearts rn but I’ll mend it with a mini life saver. I promise. I was in a silly goofy mood for angst but I can't just leave the ending like that.

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut, trying to regulate his breathing while practicing the grounding methods you had taught him, your soft voice guiding him through his panic attack.

"Tell me what you see around you"

"I-I see the curtains, the coffee table, the bookshelf- uh- the couch" You nodded, encouraging him to continue while his glassy eyes flicked around the living room. He looked at all the things you had hand picked for the space when you moved in together; the empty box he used as a shelter finally became a home after he met you.

"How about something you can smell"

"I-I can smell the laundry detergent on the blanket" It was Bucky's favorite scent because it smelled like lavender and lavender smelled like home. Home was you.

"What else my love" You cooed, "What can you touch"

"The pillow- it feels soft" Bucky's fingers dug into the sofa as he stayed frozen in place but he knew how soft the couch cushions were. After all you had picked them because you were obsessed with how plush they were.

"What is something that's real"

“You’re here with me”

"Oh, Jamie"

"You're always here" Bucky's voice cracked with emotion, the tears he had been holding in falling down his cheeks and staining his Henley.

You smiled sadly, shaking your head.

"I'm not, baby" Your voice was a gentle whisper, wishing you could reach out to cup his scruffy cheek, wiping the steady stream of tears that continued to pour down his face "But I wish I was"

-

Now I had planned on stopping here, insinuating reader had died. however if you don't stand for that, you may continue to read below.

-

Bucky couldn't take it.

6 months.

6 months he'd gone without you, hoping one day it would get easier but the day never came. He hoped the guilt of breaking your heart would balance with the fact that you'd be safer without him but not having you by his side was worse than any kind of torture he'd endured. He didn't think he was worthy of your love but now here he was, craving it more than ever.

He thought his love for you would make him selfless enough to carry on alone just to keep you out of harms way but his walls were crumbling further each day.

He needed you so bad.

He wanted to be selfish.

For his luck, you hadn't gone far. He'd made sure to keep tabs on you long after you left, anxiety eating him alive on days where you did something differently from your routine. Even if you were not together, he'd make sure you were protected.

****

You put away your groceries for the week, shuffling around the tiny apartment you'd moved back into 6 months ago, going through the motions as if your heart hadn't been split into two. No amount of convincing allowed him to believe he deserved you. You shook away that train of thought, a gentle knock at the door breaking you away from the small kitchenette.

You hesitated, debating on reaching for the knife you had hidden under the cupboard, something Bucky had taught you when he insisted on also teaching you self defense. The gentle knocking continued as you unlocked the handle without undoing the chain, gasping when you opened the door.

There he was.

The man you still cried over each night.

The man who still owned your entire heart.

The man who you adored with your entire being to the end of the earth and back. You shakily undid the chain, letting him inside, still too shocked to say anything.

"M'sorry" His voice came out a broken whisper, bottom lip already trembling seeing you wrapped up in a hoodie he thought had lost. "I'm sorry darling"

You didn't realize you'd broken down into tears until you felt him wrap you up, hugging you tightly to his chest, his own emotions overwhelming him.

"Please don't cry" Bucky wept into your hair as he clung onto you, rocking you in his strong arms, "Please baby, not over me, don't cry angel"

"I-I-al-already-c-cried-so-much" You choked and hiccupped between sobs, clinging onto Bucky harder as if he'd disappear into thin air the same way he did each night when you woke up from your dreams. The bed would feel cold and empty, the room too quiet and your heart all alone. "I'll-cr-y-if-I-w-want-t-to"

You let out a shaky huff, your brows knitted together into a pouty frown, trying hard to be angry with him, angry at the fact that he didn't allow you to love him the way he deserved, angry that he pushed you away instead of trying to workout a different solution. Bucky couldn't help but let out a wet chuckle between sniffles, giving you a soft squeeze and tilting your face up to peck your bottom lip which had been jutting out.

"I never want you to cry again love, I'll never make that mistake again" He swore, looking deeply into your eyes, cradling your head against where his heart was hammering against his chest. "Never again sweetheart, I'm so sorry I pushed you away baby, I can't do this without you, I love you so much"

You whimpered at his words, allowing him to lift you up, your legs moving on their own to wrap around his waist, burying your face into the crook of his neck. Bucky carried you all the way back and straight to the bedroom. He wanted nothing more than to hold and cuddle you, craving more with each passing minute until he was as close as he could possibly be. He stayed inside you, smiling against your sweat slicked skin, not bothering to pull out once the entire night.

"I'm finally home" He whispered against your skin, pressing soft kisses to your cheeks while you looked at him quizzically, giggling at his lips continues to dance across your lips, "It's not home without you"

[blingblong55]

Matilda- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Photo creds:@ave661^

Based on a request:

Ghost finding out his s/o has a bad family, who she doesn’t keep in contact with but talks shit about and is like. Pretty open about how fucking awful her past was? if it’s too much I get it but like- I used to love your angst posts :3 they were so yummy! --- F!Reader, 18+, angst, comfort, family issues/trauma, mentions of SA/rape, mentions of eating disorders, toxic!family, mentions of child abuse, so...trigger warning!! ---

A/N: this is me trauma dumping so I'm sorry if it isn't perfect

Simon knew, he knew well that you weren't so open to starting a family with him for reasons he knew best to respect. But, one day, without him even realising he asked the question, you sat down and told him the story your teary eyes held for so long. As he listened to you explain the stories, he noticed how he wasn't speaking to his wife but to the little girl, his wife once was. The one who was left in a cruel world to people who shouldn't have had kids. "So, they...abused you?" He carefully asked and when he noticed you pause, he knew the answer you didn't. "I...I don't think so," your soft words spoke. 

Nothing about the way you were treated seemed especially alarming 'til now

"What I know is that they were mean, evil to me. I was a kid...how was I to know right from wrong so easily?" You held his hand, support you failed to have as a child. Then, you told him the story of a young R/N. "I don't remember the exact age, but I could've been 5 through 8. I was there, he took me to his room, I thought we were going to play and he said we would so would I have known, you know?" Your innocent voice spoke the fear he held. "I don't remember much of that day but in glimpses, if I look too deep, I can see his hands between my thighs, and how he...well...you know," you couldn't explain, it was like a knot in your throat prevented to cause your heart more harm. "And you didn't tell your parents?" His voice is soft. You shake your head, "No, I...as a kid, they never believed what I said," you chuckle out of coping with it all.

"There was one time when my older sister tried to suffocate me, I didn't do anything to deserve it, all I did was watch cartoons and she annoyed me but I knew best and didn't feed into what she wanted from me." You pause and wipe some tears away. Your gaze never fell on his, afraid to break down too easily if you stared at the man who became home to you so long ago. He was that, he was comfort and home and you knew that if you stole one glance, you would be sobbing the stories. Your hand held his tighter, he knew well it was for comfort. "She pressed the pillow tight on my head, I was sick and my stupid lungs couldn't take the fact I had pneumonia, so of course killing me would be easier," you chuckle again. His gaze never left your delicate face and even he had to admit he cried as you told him these stories. 

After a long sigh and pause you continue, "I somehow pushed her off me and ran to my parent's room, knocked loud and when my dad opened the door I swore I finally felt safe until I didn't," You know he was ready to ask why but you just laid your head on his shoulder. Looking off into the distance you continued, "My sister told them I pushed her, told her that I hated her, which is not true because hate is strong and she is my sister," you shake your head. "I cried when they didn't believe me, and had a panic attack in their room. and when I backed into a corner as my mother and father yelled at me...that's when they took my sister to the hallway and my mother stayed with me, she tried to hug me but I didn't need none of that...not from her." His hand rubbed your arm, knowing what you needed from him. You wipe some tears away, your breathing hitches and he wraps both arms around you. "I didn't hurt her Simon, I swear I didn't but no one believes me, no one," you whisper the last part. "I know you didn't, my love," he kisses your head and continues to rub your arm. 

"I believe you, I'll always believe you before anyone else," he reminds you. "I...my mother gave me water and sent me to my room, told me to just sleep it off," you stop and cry. "Oh my love," he whispers and carries you onto his lap. The pouty frown broke his heart more and more. The cosy home he and you made for the years of your life, warming up his belief that slowly, he will replace all those bad years. The fireplace radiates heat on the snowy winter day. "In this world, I'll always believe you, no matter what, okay, my love?" He looks down and you nod. "That's my girl," he says and places a blanket over you both. "Do you want to continue, my love?" He asks, rubbing your back with his warm touch. 

"I do," your voice is small. It was best to open about this and then burn it and let the ashes fly away than to keep it locked in for eyes to see. "I...as I grew up, I knew I had no place in that house. My mother shamed me for my body, and so did everyone in my family." Your head nuzzling onto his chest like a cat finding comfort. "So, I starved myself to be the perfect daughter. I did try to be perfect, I tried to get an I love you, a simple smile or hug." He nods, understanding where you came from. "One time, my mother grabbed my stomach, she told me I was fat and looking back at how I was at that age, I...I was healthy, nothing was ever wrong with me, nothing," you repeat in a whisper. 

After a long time of comfortable silence, you speak again. "As I grew older, they made me feel terrible about all of me, how I dressed, if I did my makeup, my hair, my body, the stretch marks that decorated my body, all of it and even I wasn't allowed to have one bad day, not one." He shook his head and in that instant, he understood why all those years of loving you, you always avoided starting a family conversation. You were afraid to be like them, to persist in a cycle of never-ending trauma. He knew you loved him, he knew how much you yearned to be a mum, to watch him and you become parents and do foolish things for and with your child. 

"I never understood why I was so insecure over my thighs or why I hated when people touched them, but as I grew older and noticed that I was...you know... I..um.." You could never be admitted, never say you were raped as a child, not when you were scared to acknowledge it again. "I know love," he responds so you don't torture your heart anymore. "But...when I realised what happened to me, that's when it all hit me and there was a time in my young life that I knew I would never forget," you kept holding onto his torso. "It hadn't been long after what that...person...did to me when my mum and sisters pinned me to the ground, they knew then that I disliked people touching my thighs so they pinned me to the ground and touched them," you shake your head, trying to forget the moment. "They...th-they touched my body as I cried and begged for them to stop and not once did anyone stop or help me. My father walked by and he...he just laughed and kept walking...how...how can you do that?" You cried. "How can a parent do that? I was a kid, Simon...a child," you broke down. 

"And don't get me started on why I felt like Christmas was just not a happy holiday anymore." Your mind went to a past Christmas, your family yelling, your father accused of his cheating, never denying, just lying and yelling at your mother. You hid in a closet, grabbed headphones and played music loudly. Hours passed and your mother saw fear within her eyes as she cried to you, why can he love me? she asked as she cried, you played strong. Your father drove away, leaving his family scared and cornered in a bathroom, crying as they listened to stories. 

"My dad used to hit me, well, my entire family really," you confessed. His eyes widened, he knew they were bad, but not this bad. "My dad had a belt he used to hit me with, my mother and sisters used to watch. One time, they added more fuel to the fire as they told him more lies to get me into more trouble, part of me thinks they loved to watch me cry and get hit." You so innocently say, "When I was a kid and even as I grew older, my mum and dad would hit me and tell me they did it because they loved me." He shook his head, "Never...never in your life do you dare think that way. If I even dare to lift my hand at you, you leave me, my love. Because no matter how much you or I love the other, abuse doesn't equal love," he cups your face. You nod. 

You learned one thing from Simon as he listened, that he was calm after the bad storm. He had his troubles, yes, but never would he be like them. He and you healed the other after all those years of a bad life you lived. You and him, sunshine to the other even in the darkest of the night. He has become light and a new beginning. Family. And as you admire the soul who can tell which smiles you are faking, you know that the little girl in you is finally safe. She has packed her dolls and sweater, moved to the countryside, grew up and fell in love with a man. A man who is home, a man who became the grown-up little R/N runs to when scared. For he is home, he is light and he is love. He is your man, your safe place and the one you find comfort in. 

I don't believe that time will change your mind In other words I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

"No more," he told you, you looked up at him in confusion. "No more?" you asked and he shook his head. "From this day on, you are not their blood, you are a Riley, you are R/N Riley and never will you be associated with them." He cupped your face. His tone was stern as he tried to make you listen to him. "They are not family, my love. They are strangers you lived with. And me...I am your family, we don't need another shit Christmas, we can...hm...we can have dinner here, or maybe get takeout and watch your favourite movies all day and night. Hey, who knows, maybe that Santa Clause man will come in the night as we sleep and hopefully you've been nice my love because I want him to bring you some good gifts," he chuckles as he cups your delicate face. You laugh a little, "Hey, look who's back, that cute laugh of yours my love," he kisses your lips and pulls you to him, closer than you already were. 

You can start a family who will always show you love You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

In this lifetime, you will learn many things and you will meet many people. Most of which will come and go. Those who stay, you may ask? Well, they become a family, maybe not a biological one but it's not blood that relates two strangers. It's memories, it's understanding, growing, living and loving. Family is him, family is the old lady or that professor you bonded with. Family is people who make you feel safe and at home. For if you are lucky, in this life you will find your Simon Riley. The person who wraps you in a warm blanket and loves you a little more when you hate the reflection in the mirror. And if you get even luckier, you will find that not only will it be Simon Riley who heals your old wounds and covers them in kisses and caresses. You will find yourself, maybe in ten years, getting covered in glitter, mud, and stickers and having the walls of your home drawn on by Simon's child. The love child that was created on a warm Christmas morning. The same one that wakes you up at six in the morning to go and see what the big red man brought them for Christmas. 

And if you are lucky enough, you will find peace. The same one you looked for since age 5, the same one you cried for throughout the years. Maybe it won't come this year, but if you are patient enough, you will find it and when you do, appreciate it because you cried for it many moons ago.

You don't have to be sorry, no

A/N: the tears I shed as I wrote this made a river. Anyway, thank you for letting me dump years of trauma with this one, love you all <3

Tags:

@ghostslillady @liyanahelena @sans-chara @siwwayouu @allaboutirem0 @just3rowsing @mothcelestial @blankk3

[fadingdaggerr]

Hii!! I hope you've had a great day!!

So, I had this idea and I can't stop thinking about it, it's like rotating in my brain like a Rotisserie Chicken. IDK if you're still taking requests but I just had to send this.

Anyway, Melissa and reader are in someone else's house (R parents or idk some kind of sleepover with the teachers) and for some reason they can't sleep together in the same bed/room, like they're used to, which is concerning R because Melissa doesn't really sleep well alone.

But Mel tries to ease R saying she'll be just fine for one night, and very reluctantly R agrees.

Well, it turns out she can't. R and obviously a few others in the house wake up to Melissa's screaming in the middle of the night and R runs to her, shes is sobbing, shaking and clutching R for dearlife, just absolutely terrified and not even letting R move. R calm her down and take care of her, like with a lot of fluff and comfort.

I'm just obsessed with R taking care of Mel and being really sweet.

Yeah that's it. I love your stories, they are really really good. And I could only think of you when this thing came out of my brain.

+ I absolutely loved what you did in "Know I'm Alive", I was kicking my feet and internally screaming. (I sent that anon 👉👈) So thanks, I enjoyed it a lot, like a lot a lot, like, if I could I would eat that it.

You're really talented!! <3

by the sun, by the moon

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 4.8k

includes: no pronoun use for r, fluff, hurt/comfort, family play fights/sibling banter, r’s family adores mel, probably ooc!mel oops

warnings: unhealthy relationship dynamic (short), attempted violence (short), mentions/insinuations of sex, one outdated traditional value, sleep difficulties/nightmares, anxiety/panic attack

note: please feel free to skip the section that discusses the unhealthy relationship dynamic/violence. it begins after the first section divide with the line “for her entire childhood…” those topics are only explicitly stated there and only referenced one other time. please do not feel as tho you need to read triggering material to understand the story, i tried to make it understandable without having to read potentially distressing content :)

Melissa’s head tips back when she hears you coming back downstairs, having been waiting for you since your mom called during The Real Housewives time. The way you’re watching your feet with furrowed brows makes her fully turn until she’s kneeling on the couch, leaning over the back to get closer to you.

“Something wrong?” Melissa asks, reaching to grab your hand to pull you closer.

You shake your head, “no, no.” Warm hands rise to cradle the redhead’s face, “how would you feel about spending the night at my parents place Saturday? They’re hosting Jonah’s birthday, wanted our help to set up the night before.”

Her eyes widen, “just Saturday night?”

“Just Saturday,” you reaffirm, tucking a loose hair behind her ear. She cautiously nods, barely moving. “We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable with it, I’m not going to make you.”

“I know, I know,” she says through her breath, “we’ll stay the night.” The kiss you press to her forehead feels heavier than just a silent thank you.

—☽—

For her entire childhood and through her marriage, Melissa slept like a rock. She slept through Kristen Marie’s and Joe’s snoring, her college girlfriend’s sleep talking, her parents having a screaming match so loud the cops got called. Before starting teaching, she even had to train herself to wake up at the sound of her alarm, knowing that being late to the school was ten times worse than being late to JC Penney.

Two years after she finally left Joe, Melissa met Eric.

Tall, charming, nice-smelling Eric with his salt-and-pepper beard always tidy, a covered up Marine tattoo on his forearm. He’d bought her drink after his friend accidentally knocked hers off the counter of the bar, and two hookups later, she was agreeing to a real date. Three months later, she was his girlfriend and allowed him into her apartment. He got to know where the spare key was hidden after a year.

Eric was everything Joe was not. During arguments, Joe would shut down and leave, only returning when he smells like cheap liquor and some other woman’s perfume. Eric always stayed, told her his point of view, listened to hers, calmly told her when she was overreacting. He was smooth, never raised a hand towards her or threw things at the walls. Melissa always knew when she was in the wrong, but he never made her feel bad about it.

Eric was particular. He liked his shirts folded a certain way, beer only from a glass, and silence when he worked. If she was excited about anything, he only ever allowed her to speak about it until he’d lost interest, almost always by the time she paused to take a breath. When he properly introduced her to his friends, his hand on her knee would tighten when she spoke. Quickly, she learned that the tighter the grip, the less she should speak. Four hours at some sports bar and Melissa had only been able to say a total of six sentences. Eric liked Melissa quiet. Melissa became quiet.

He started to prod about meeting her family, and she shut him down. Again and again. The fourth time, he banged his fist against the table, the end of his fork creating a small dent. Green eyes fixated on the dent as he began to calmly explain that he had introduced her to his family, it was her turn. Mumbling those were your buddies got her stuck on her own couch that night, clutching the blanket Nana made her before she started college.

Two months later, she began to slowly bring back Eric’s clothing to his apartment on the off-chance they went there for a night. Grading her student’s assignments began to take longer and she triple-checked the scores to waste more time, suddenly too tired to have sex or even talk before going to sleep. Otherwise, she listened to his rules, spoke when spoken to, cooked when asked.

The morning he narrowly avoided calling her a moron to her face when she made the eggs over-medium instead over-easy, she officially made her choice. That night, at the Italian restaurant he brought her to, she called it off.

“Why?” Eric asked, eyes stone, unwavering from hers.

She took a deep breath, “you treat me like a pet. Speak when spoken to, move when told, I’m sick of it.” Her grip on the table cloth tightened, “tomorrow, I will put your stuff outside. You’ll pick it up when I tell you to, and then you will leave.”

He sits back in his chair, tongue poking at his bottom lip, “and if I don’t want to break up?”

“Too bad,” she shrugs. Standing from the table, Melissa leaves him with the check and the sad excuse of Italian cuisine on the table.

At work the next day, it takes all morning, lunch, and prep to fully debrief Barbara on everything that had been going on. It made sense to the kindergarten teacher why she had yet to meet this Eric fella, but after hearing this, she knew Melissa wasn’t proud of getting herself in this situation. A promise of a wine weekend and greasy food makes Melissa truly smile. Barbara hadn’t realized how fake every little grin had been until now, she missed her best friend.

That afternoon, Melissa came home to the loose brick that hid her spare key ajar. The blood in her veins runs cold. Opening the unlocked door, glass scratches across the wooden floor, crunching under her heels. Every picture frame, the television, the radio, the coffee table, the stovetop, the tea set from her grandfather, all smashed to pieces. Holes were in nearly every wall, the stair railing broken. The entire first floor was destroyed, only upstairs was left pristine, as if nothing had happened at all. Bat in hand, she checks every closet, under her bed, in the bathtub, everywhere. He was gone.

Leaning against the wall, she slides down and sobs. Melissa is forced to make a choice she didn’t want to make. Opening her phone, she calls Joe.

Joe, despite everything he had done, was at Melissa’s house within the hour. In one hand he held a bag from the hardware store, containing new locks and keys, the other hand had his very own bat, nails pounded through the wood. Like he said when they signed the papers, just because he wasn’t in love with her, doesn’t mean he didn’t care.

Three weeks later, after things had settled and locks were changed, Melissa felt more secure. Still every night, she woke at every sound, wind and the smoke detector quickly became her mortal enemies. Bundled in her soft pajamas and thick comforter one night, she finally fell into a hard, deep sleep forced from pure exhaustion.

Paperclips, a screwdriver, and a small sheet of flexible metal are all someone needs to pick a lock and shift the deadbolt. Eric surely knew that, always the smart man, yet never the brightest. Slowly, he moved up the stairs, bourbon fueling his motions as well as his heavy steps.

A particularly loud thunk wakes Melissa, hand flying under her pillow to the bat Joe had made her promise to keep there. Another thump made her jump out of bed and to the side of her dresser with an iron grip around Edith Houghton. When her door opened, she stayed pressed into the corner, hoping she stayed hidden just long enough for him to leave so she could grab her phone.

Liquor breeds stupidity, worsens it when it is already present, and Eric had left to check the bathroom. Quickly, Melissa called the police, shakily texting Joe as she whispered to the operator. At that point, she didn’t care who got there first. She just wanted to be free of him.

She moved to a new apartment before the month even ended. Barbara insisted on cameras, which Gerald installed. Joe insisted on a nailed up bat, which he made himself. Not a night has gone by since then where she didn’t have it within arms reach of the bed.

It took six years for her to sleep again.

—☽—

The light tracing of nonsensical patterns on her abdomen is what wakes Melissa, eyes cracking open to the bright sun peeking through the curtains. She wishes now, more than ever, that she had agreed to the blackout curtains, groaning into her pillow. With the knowledge she’s now awake, several soft kisses press against her shoulder, traveling to her neck. With a sleepy grin on her face, Melissa turns to face you.

“Morning,'' you mumble against her lips, hand traveling up to her hair to separate the knots that you created. “Sleep good?”

The only response you get is a little huff that almost sounds like yeah, her face burying in your neck to hide from the light. You lay there with her, finishing your detangling mission as Melissa’s nails trace up and down your arm. A final, sound kiss lands on the crown of her head before you shuffle out from underneath her, reaching for your previous discarded university shirt and sweatpants. The redhead watches through droopy eyes, scanning over you before your pajamas cover everything she adores.

“Gotta get up, beautiful,” you say through a yawn as you walk out the room, “we need to be leaving for one.” A tiny groan escapes her lips as she rises from the bed, though a small smile crosses her lips when she sees your sweatshirt thrown over the chair in the corner, just waiting for her.

Not even halfway down the stairs, there’s a clatter from the kitchen and a quiet exclamation of fuck. “You’re not even awake and you want me up,” Melissa says as she walks to the coffee maker. She’s met with a small slap on her ass in return, not even caring to be embarrassed of the girlish giggle she lets out.

Whose fault it is that you’re late leaving, who could tell? Between the forgoing packing and wrapping your cousin’s present last night for a taste of Melissa and her lack of pants this morning, it’s hard to say. Nothing that going a gentle twenty over on the highway can’t mend.

Driving up the dirt road, the dense trees thinned and your parent’s yellow house came into view. Your father’s questionably functional truck sits in the front of the garage, your mom and brother’s cars parked close together on the lawn. Seeing the way your hands tighten on the steering wheel, Melissa slides her hand from your elbow to the free hand on your thigh, playing with your rings to calm you. Being at your parents house was always overwhelming, fun, but overwhelming.

Narrowly avoiding scraping the side, you pull in next to your brother’s car. Looking at each other, you and Melissa give each other a nod of we got this. She’d been over here before, she’d been to three family reunions and almost every birthday party, but never had you two stayed the night, always being some of first to leave to sleep in your own bed.

With a little grunt, you hop out of the car and jog to Melissa’s side to open her door. She gives you a half glare when you tap her hand away from helping carry the bags in, you never let her lift a finger, if you can help it.

“Well, look who decided to show up!”

Both you and Melissa jump at your mother’s yell from the porch, bangles clanking together as she widely waves to the both of you. Gravel crunches under her feet as she rushes over to the two of you, immediately pulling Melissa into a hug. Before you were banned from saying it, you used to joke that your parents preferred your girlfriend to their own child. The giant smile on Melissa’s face when she interacts with your family makes it worth it.

Tumbling upstairs, you bring your bags into your childhood bedroom with Melissa close behind. Even with every time she had been here, she loved being in your room. It was a time capsule of your life before college, all the posters of bands and movies still hanging on the walls, trinkets covering every space. She particularly loved the little collection of rocks on your bookshelf, clearly in order from favorite to least favorite.

The bed bobs as you both drop onto the mattress, groaning at the comfort after three hours in the car. You turn your face towards her, leaning to press a kiss to her shoulder, “I love you.”

Melissa leans in closer, “I love you, too.” She watches your eyes flick to her lips, beating you to the chase and pressing her lips to yours softly. It takes every ounce of effort to not moan at your tongue tracing her lip, her hand coming up to grip your shirt and keep you close. Stomping up the stairs makes you both jump apart, feeling like teenagers getting caught, not that the room was helping.

The door opens to show your dad, boots trekking in dirt that will inevitably get him in trouble with your mom. The hand not on the doorknob is over his eyes, “you two better be decent. Ma has lunch ready downstairs and clothing is probably mandatory.”

“Knock it off,” you mumble as you shuffle towards him so he can give your head a gentle noogie. Neither of you were big on hugs, only really being physically affectionate with your partners, but the love is always clear in every fistbump and hand on your shoulder.

You and Melissa trail behind your father as he goes to the kitchen, both fighting laughs after nearly getting caught by your dad. However, the second your mom peers over at the two of you, you both act like you had been silent the whole time, eyes flicking around in feigned innocence.

Lunch is a mismatch of all the foods your mom made for the birthday party the next day, making you all be her taste testers, even if she only really wants Melissa’s opinion as the other cook in the family. Pasta salad, potato salad, mac and cheese, shortcake, even some chicken with her new lemon pepper recipe. You and your brother fight over who gets first dibs on the pasta salad, ending with his wife taking the serving spoon from your hands and grabbing some for herself.

“Act your age,” Kennedy says to her husband, making you laugh, before she gives you a sharp glance, “that goes for you, too.” Melissa turns away to unsuccessfully hide her own laugh from you.

Lunch ends with your mom and your brother arguing over another serving of macaroni, “we need food for tomorrow! Fuck’s sake, Marcus.”

—☽—

Your father divides everyone into groups to set up the backyard. Your mother takes Melissa and Kennedy to help set up the tables and lights, forcing you and Marcus to help your father with the tent, bonfire pit, and yardgames.

Getting all the yardgames for the little cousins was the easy part, even if it took a while because the three of you had to play a game of cornhole before you could do anything else. None of you got a single one in after two turns, making you all set into defeat, the game was agreed between the three of you to be stupid now. With your father taking a break now, getting the tent together was a doomed venture with you and Marcus.

“If you don’t let me hold it up, it’s gonna keep falling.”

“Fuck off! No, it won’t,” Marcus says with confidence, trying to stand the tent all at once before securing it. Four had already fallen, and a job that should only take twenty minutes was taking nearly an hour.

“How is it gonna stay up if nothing’s holding it, huh? Thought you knew everything?” He flips you off and doesn’t answer, continuing putting the spike in the ground, though without the other end being held up, the weight pulls it down again. Giving up, you walk away and attempt to find your dad for something else to do. You stop in your tracks, just step from the patio.

Watching Melissa with your family always makes butterflies erupt in your chest. She used to be so nervous around them, uncharacteristically quiet and meek, but now she’s almost as carefree with them as she is with her own. The sunlight makes her hair shine, and it’s damn near impossible to look away. It seems you’re of similar mind, her head turning towards you, fighting a grin when she sees the dopey grin on your face.

You almost start to walk towards her, but a strong hand pulls you back. Your dad pushes the hatchet into your hands, “you’re on firewood duty.”

“Bu-”

“Nope, you’re not slinking off to your girl. Go chop the wood, Casanova,” he says as he walks back to help Marcus with the tent.

It’s hours before you even get a chance to see Melissa again, as if your parents were keeping you apart. Which they were, knowing that you’d ignore everything you had to do if it meant you got to just look at Melissa. By the time you got back inside, the button up you’d been wearing was abandoned on a lawn chair and you were out of breath. How much firewood does one bonfire even need?

Walking in the backdoor into the kitchen, Melissa is leaning against the counter, her eye on the mixer filled with what will be cheesecake going to your tanktop clad form as she chats with Kennedy. Creeping up beside her, you wrap an arm around her waist and press a lingering kiss to her cheek, mumbling a greeting into her skin before trudging upstairs to shower the sweat and dirt off.

—☽—

By the end of the night, everyone is half-awake and struggling to keep their eyes open as a TV movie drones on. Neither you or Melissa are paying attention, too wrapped up in one another in the arm chair. Legs dangling over the arm, Melissa is seated on your lap, head tucked into your shoulder as you mindlessly play with her hair. The hand on the back of your neck stops its soft ministrations, her breathing slowing as she fights falling asleep.

You speak quietly for only her to hear, “you ready for bed?” She just nods against you, and you tap her legs to prompt her to move. Her hands hold onto your arm to steady herself, wavering where she stands.

“Alright, we’re calling it. Night guys, we’ll see you in the morning,” you announce into the room as Melissa starts going towards the stairs, not trusting her ability to speak when she’s this tired. You get a quiet chorus of night before you walk to the stairs, but your mother’s voice stops your movements.

“Jellybean, could you do me a favor and take the trash out before you head upstairs?” she asks without taking her eyes off the TV.

You internally groan before nodding, turning to Melissa, “go up, baby. I’ll be right there.”

This catches your mother’s attention, immediately moving to face you, “you mean to say ‘goodnight,’ right?”

“What?”

Her eyebrows rise, “you’re saying goodnight, then going to your room. Right?” Melissa’s blood immediately runs cold, color draining from her face. If she was tired two minutes ago, she was wide awake now.

“No...” you say slowly, confused, “why would Mel not also be in there?” You peak over your shoulder to Melissa, giving her a look before your attention is back on your mother.

“So, you’re staying in the guest room? Or is Melissa?”

Your face screws up, “Neither of us? My room’s got a full, that’s fine for us.”

“No.”

“Hell you mean ‘no,’ Ma? Marcus and Kennedy are sharing a full, it’s not a huge deal,” you hear Melissa step down from the stairs, her shaky hand holding your elbow.

“Marcus and Kennedy are married, unlike you two. I know you live together, but my roof, my rules. You know that,” she says matter-of-factly. The other three people in the room pointedly avoid looking at you, not wanting to get on your mom’s bad side.

You argue back, “that’s fucking ridiculous, Ma. We are grown adults, in a relationship.” The arched brow on your mother’s face tells you that you shouldn’t be arguing, but she doesn’t know. She doesn’t know about the panic that is starting to eat away at Melissa’s veins at the sudden thought of sleeping without you, something she hasn’t done once in over three years now.

“No rings, two beds. Don’t think I won’t be checking.”

Not wanting to make more of a scene, Melissa tugs on your arm to gain your attention. Turning to her, you can see the silent plea in her eyes for you to give it up. Shoulders sagging, you let out a grumbled fine. Breaking away from her, you go to the kitchen and roughly pull the trash from the bin. It takes a great deal of effort to not slam the door as you stomp to the garage. When you come back in, you don’t bother saying anything to anyone, just wrapping an arm around Melissa to guide her upstairs.

When you get into your room, you shut the door and lean against it with a huff. The two of you silently change into your pajamas, moving slowly from exhaustion and an attempt to prolong your time together. Melissa turns away to fold her clothes on the bed, and you move to wrap your arms around her waist, propping your chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you say, “I’ll stay in here tonight. Not like she can’t ground me anymore.”

Melissa turns in your arms, loosely wrapping her own around your shoulders, “it’s alright, I’ll be fine. I don’t want her mad at you for my sake.”

“Baby-”

“Don’t do that,” she says, though the sigh in her voice gives away her uncertainty, “I’ll be okay, amore.”

Your eyes scan over her face before you nod. Her arms pull you closer, noses brushing before she presses a sound kiss to your lips. Melissa’s arms shift and her hands cup your face, moving your head to press kisses to your cheeks, forehead, and chin, until the sour look on your face disappears.

Tugging her into you, you bury your head into her neck, pressing a long kiss there. From her neck you mumble, “I’ll be in the room right next door.”

“I’ll survive in the guest room, this is your bedroom,” she says, though she doesn’t fully mean it.

“What’s mine is yours. Plus, this one’s more comfortable, you’ll thank me later,” you hug her tighter, “so... I will be next door.”

“I told you, I’ll be fine,” she says. It’s more for her than you this time. Three years. Three years of falling asleep with you still awake beside her and waking up with you already looking at her.

You walk her back towards the bed, getting in with her, though not under the covers. With everyone, especially your mother, you don’t think it’ll hurt to stay until Melissa falls asleep. Her back presses to your front, hand holding yours to her chest, fast beating heart beneath. In a hushed voice, you speak about little things that don’t matter in hopes that it will calm her enough. Slowly her breath evens out, face burying into the pillow as it always does when you hold her like this.

Carefully, you detangle yourself from her and press a kiss to her hair, “I love you.” Stepping out of the room slowly, you leave the door cracked just a little and eye Melissa before turning. At the top of the stairs is your mother, brows raised.

“You better be going to your own bed,” she says quietly, though her tone is hard.

Rolling your eyes, you respond, “I am. Just had to make sure Melissa was asleep first.” You try to go into the room next door, but your mom’s face is silently asking for context, “she doesn’t sleep well. Different place, different sleeping arrangement, it’s difficult.”

You don’t particularly appreciate the dismissive way your mom just nods before walking towards the master bedroom, clearly thinking it was just an excuse, but it’s too late to fight about it. The sooner you sleep, the sooner you can wake up and crawl into bed with Melissa before she wakes. You watch the crack in the door and listen for Melissa until sleep comes over you.

—☽—

Something wakes you just past three in the morning, an ear splitting scream coming from next door. At first, you think it’s just your own anxiety, closing your eyes slowly. A second scream, this time of your name, and you’re springing out of bed, throwing the door open hard enough to bounce off the wall and slam shut. Four steps bring you to your childhood bedroom, rapidly swinging the door open to run in, not noticing the others joining you in the hall.

When you get into the room, moonlight illuminates Melissa where she’s sitting up with a hand gripping her shirt as she breathes in quick, panicked pants, eyes flying around the room until they land on you. Before she can even reach for you, you’re practically pouncing on the bed to get in front of her. Your hands go to her shoulders, her own gripping your forearms, her watery eyes darting around your face. Taking in deep breaths and letting them out slowly, you motion for Melissa to mimic you, trying to slow her rapid breath and heart.

Short gasps become slow, shaky breaths as panic begins to fade and tears form. A whimper of your name makes you pull her into you, her arms gripping your shirt and she cries into your neck. Between broken sobs, only the words window, knife, and everywhere and mention of a him come through, but you understood. This wasn’t the first time Eric’s actions haunted her at night, though it had been nearly two years since she’d woken up in a sweat.

Peeking over your shoulder, you see your parents and brother in the doorway. The look you give your mother is filled with anger and a raised brow that says I told you to listen. The clear fury makes your father pull her back towards their own room, pushing your brother to his. Some level of courtesy hits your mom, closing the door fully before she gets tugged away.

Attention back on Melissa, you alternate between playing with the ends of her hair and lightly dragging your nails over her back under her shirt. You tuck her hair behind her ear, tacky from tears, “you’re safe, Mel. Nothing and no one’s going to hurt you, I promise. I wouldn’t let them.”

Rocking side to side gently, you feel her breathing return to normal, body no longer shaking from tears. Trying not to jostle her, you turn your body to lay down with her, keeping her tucked into your neck with your arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her head, you slide an arm down to grab her hand, lacing your fingers together.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, just below your ear.

You squeeze her hand, “you never have to apologize for this. If anything, I’m the one that should be sorry. I should have stayed.”

She sniffled, “I’m a grown woman, I should be able to sleep alone.”

“And I should be able to stand up to my mother about sleeping in the same bed as my girlfriend, yet here we are,” you say jokingly, trying to lighten the mood.

Thankfully, she chuckles, the vibration on your skin making you smile, “so it’s all your fault.”

“I’ll gladly take the blame,” you mumble as you settle into the bed more, relaxing as you feel the redhead relax against you.

In a sudden move, Melissa props herself up over you, hair dangling in your face. Leaning down, she kisses your forehead, then each cheek, and finally your lips, long and loving. It’s a quiet thanks that she will never owe you.

“I love you,” she whispers.

“I love you more,” you whisper back.

It takes half an hour for sleep to creep back in, Melissa’s breathing growing slow where she rests on your chest, your heart beating under her ear. When she eventually falls back asleep against your chest, you stay awake and trace lines on her back. You’ll gladly stand guard if it means she sleeps peacefully, stay awake if it means she’s safe.

note: solaris write a fic under 3k like u planned challenge good lord man. also thank you thank you for the compliment, it’s an honor to be the first person u thought of to write this. i hope i did ur vision justice <3

as always, feedback appreciated <3

[thezombieprostitute]

Tech Tuesday: Ransom Drysdale

Summary: New Years Day starts with you realizing you fell asleep on top of Ransom.

Warnings: Angst, Miscommunication, Panic attack. Please let me know if I missed any.

Previous

You're slow to wake up. Your bed is way less comfy than usual. You try to reach for a blanket or pillow. Your hand finds something soft, maybe your afghan blanket, but when you pull, it doesn't move much.

That's when you hear the gentle snoring, making your eyes shoot open. It registers that you've been pulling on Ransom's sweater as he was laying under you.

That can't be comfortable, you think.

Gently you start trying to get off of him without waking him up but you're stopped when, with a sleepy grumble, Ransom wraps his arms around you and squeezes you tight. it feels nice and you're still sleepy enough your brain can't fight the urge to lean into it. As much as you've enjoyed when Ransom lets you hug him, being on the receiving end feels even better.

Wait! No! Ransom doesn't like touch!, you reprimand yourself.

Not wanting to continue taking advantage of his sleepy state you start struggling to escape his grasp. He wakes up and panics at seeing you in his arms. He pushes you off of him and you land on the floor, thankfully on your back.

"I'm so sorry," you quickly move away from the couch. "I didn't mean to fall asleep on you. I know you don't like to be touched."

"What?" Ransom gasps. "I...I'm..." Ransom practically runs to his bathroom and slams the door shut. He's mortified. No, he's scared. He was soft, vulnerable just now. And last night, he thinks, as the memories return.

He looks at his reflection and his breathing goes ragged. He spent so much of his life being a privileged asshole. Now he's hugging people. Being friendly. The old him would've relished taking your first kiss for himself and maybe pushed even further. Instead he talked you down to just doing a toast. And then that got interrupted by---

"Ransom?" your voice squeaked through the door. "I...are you...I'm sorry. I didn't...Are you going to be okay?"

He splashes water on his face, his breathing still hasn't slowed. He wants to respond, tell you something, anything but he can't get his brain to work. Someone found him. All he can do is go over the snipes, the criticisms, the fake concern, the toxicity he knows he'll get when his family pulls him back into their clutches.

He sits on the floor, face in his hands. He can't do it. He refuses to go back to them. He won't let them hurt him again! He was proud of himself for surviving on his own. He was learning what real happiness was. What friendship really could be. He doesn't want to be the cold, ruthless asshole he used to be.

But was he really better off like this? One person he doesn't know calls him "Hugh" and suddenly he's a pitiful mess. He's never felt so weak. At least with his family he knew how to survive. This situation is too new. He can't...he doesn't know how to keep going. A sob escapes him.

"Ransom?" your voice is more urgent at the sound. "Ransom? Please talk to me? Open the door? Something?"

He can't. He can't let you see him like this. All of his instincts are telling him that only pain will come from being seen like this. Tears start pouring and he can't stop them. He can't catch his breath. He wants to call out for help, ask you to hold him, but his brain knows that if he does that you'll only hurt him.

"Ransom?" you sound like you're on the verge of a panic attack. "Ransom I'm not going to open the door, but I'm also not leaving until I know you're okay."

He sobs again. Why can't you leave him alone to be miserable in peace? Why do you insist on being there for him? He's pathetic. He can't even have a simple encounter without flying off into a panic! He knows you're just going to make fun of him. Maybe that's why you're still here. It's not that you care, it's that you need to be better than someone!

"Leave me alone," he sputters between breaths.

His words cut deep and you sniffle. You know he doesn't like being touched but you threw yourself on top of him last night! You even reached under his sweater to warm your hands! Sure he'd commented you could if you just got into the cab but still, that wasn't proper consent, was it?

"I'm so sorry, Ransom," you gulp. "I shouldn't have had so much to drink. I should have been in better control of myself. I didn't...I didn't mean to upset you. Even drunk me should know to respect your personal space."

"That's not what upset me!" he yells through the door, startling you. You've never heard him so angry.

"I'm sorry I brought that guy over the table," you mumble just loud enough for him to hear. "I was just trying to help you make some new friends."

"Because you enjoy seeing me flounder? Because you thrive on watching me make an idiot of myself? Because you need to prove you're better than me?!"

His words pierce your heart and the tears flow even more. You want to run away and hide like you used to but you can't. You can't leave Ransom in this state. You remember being there. Believing the worst in people. You know how lonely it is.

"Because I was drunk and thought you'd like more friends than just me," you explain. "You've made so much progress and I know I'm not your favorite kind of person. Nick looked on the richer side, like he had good taste or something. He looked like someone you could talk to that wouldn't annoy you with his...his bubbly personality."

Ransom goes quiet as he tries to process your words. He tries to think up something to say but all he can blurt out is, "what?"

Between sniffles you explain, "you're always so well dressed, so clean and tidy, so put together. I know the only reason you hang out with me is because you don't have experience making friends. I knew, going into this friendship, that you wouldn't want me around for long once you got some friends you could actually relate to. Friends to talk to about expensive cars, fine wines, stuff like that."

Ransom's breathing slows down as he continues listening to your voice.

"I know I'm a silly kind of person," you continue. "I see your eyes roll because of me. I hear your exasperated sighs. I know you're only friends with me because you need someone to be. I thought Nick might be that better friend for you."

"You want to get rid of me?" Ransom whines.

"No!" you're quick to assert. "I just know that you find me annoying. Friends shouldn't annoy friends every time they talk. Like I annoy you."

"I don't..." Ransom stops himself. He does roll his eyes at you a lot, but he thought you saw it as part of his being playful with you. Was this part of your own baggage? Do you believe yourself to be annoying as much as he believes himself to be a cold-hearted bastard? "You're not annoying," he finally says. There's so much more he wants to say, but his brain isn't working right.

"I'm still sorry I brought him over to the table," you mutter. "We were doing so good, having so much fun and I ruined it."

Ransom's breathing picks up again at the reminder of being called "Hugh". At the warning that his family was still looking for him, and had succeeded.

"It's not your fault," he chokes out. "He was an asshole seeking to ruin our night." He takes a few moments to regulate his breathing before he continues. "He knew who I was, he didn't need to get any closer. He chose to. He took advantage of you. It's not your fault."

"I trust you, Ransom."

Those four words spark more tears from Ransom because he knows you mean them. No one's ever told him anything like that before. He never knew how much responsibility came with not being a toxic asshole and he's not sure he'll ever be cut out for it.

"You deserve a better friend," he sighs. "Someone who's better at...communicating."

He hears you scoff. "Ransom, you know languages other than English, right?"

"Kinda," he replies, confusion lacing his tone.

"Were you fluent in any of them when you first started?"

"Of course not. It takes practice."

"So do things like this. And even then...even then you can still have times where your brain jumbles the languages and nothing comes out. Or where you can't think of the word and you default to your native language." You hear some sniffles from Ransom's side of the door. "It takes practice and being around others who speak the language. But eventually you get it."

There's silence for a few minutes and you worry you've overshared. But the you hear him.

"Can you get me the Sweater Pusheen?"

"On it!"

You rush to the living/dining area and grab the stuffed animal. Outside the bathroom, you gently knock on the door and it opens just enough for you to pass the plushie to him. Respecting that you haven't been invited in, you close the door for him and sit back down.

Ransom squeezes the Pusheen like a lifeline. He's learned that it helps his breathing, helps him calm down. He even started keeping it in his car for rough days at work. But while it is helping, he's realizing it's not enough. No. That was when he was hugging on you before he was fully awake. That was whenever you hugged him, allowing him to hug you back. The plushie is helpful, but it's no substitute for the real thing.

He lets out a frustrated sigh. "Hey, are you still there?"

"Yes."

"Can I hug you?"

"Of course!"

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