#my own anxiety be dammed

[nonuggetshere]

Made a height chart with my ocs ft local Mx Daddy Issues

Also I finally figured out how to draw this stupid beanpole of an asshole's feet in a way that I like

[sage-is-in-fact-very-tired]

chat gets called out at the end of stream and I just. 🧍‍♂️

I dont look at chat unless it pops up on screen, so goings on over there are just not in my vision but sometimes I hear bout it and it's just not it

[hyperfixating-rn-brb]

The Good Omens Fandom has had a lot of fun recently with the knowledge of Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus at the end of season 1.

Soo here's everything that went through my head as I learned of it for the first time.

For that entire scene, Aziraphale is really far gone. He's dissociating so hard he can't even realize he's been sitting on a sword. Crowley is probably the only thing keeping him grounded.

They just narrowly stopped Armageddon after a showdown with literally Satan, and still can't let their guard down. For the first time ever, they're completely on their own side. Now they have to orchestrate a body swap to save both of them. They wouldn't just be killed, they'd be completely destroyed. Everything must go exactly according to plan, but how often does that actually happen?

And on top of that, his bookshop, his home, his safe place with the demon he has to pretend not to love is burned and gone.

Crowley is so incredibly gentle and reassuring this entire scene. He's been through so much trauma himself and has spent a lot of his existence shielding the angel from it, hoping to protect some of his innocence and naivete. Crowley is absolutely familiar with every symptom of PTSD and anxiety.

Now he has to see his sweet angel see such a small bit of the horrors of heaven and hell and start to crumble inside. He's going to do his dam best to try and help Aziraphale through it. Speaking softly, ("the bookshop burned down... remember?) slowly and carefully, gradually helping to pull the angel back to reality, reminding him that he's there and will help ground him.

They get on the bus, and sit next to each other. 11 years ago, they sat nearby but separated while Crowley begs Aziraphale to help him prevent the Apocalypse. Now they are sitting together. Both an act of reassurance and unity.

Crowley sits first, Aziraphale could so easily just sit across from him, behind or in front. But he chooses to sit right next to him. And hold his hand. Aziraphale desperately needs to be near to the *former* demon he loves, to hold him, to make sure they won't be separated.

In the book, their famous lines of "none of this would have worked out if you weren't, deep down, just a bit of a good person" and "just enough of a b*stard to be worth liking" came as Satan rose from the earth, as a goodbye in case they were destroyed.

Luckily, that didn't happen and they survived. Armaggedon was stopped. But the angel is still so anxious of losing Crowley. So he chooses to reach out, to anchor himself and reassure himself that Crowley is still there beside him and that they are okay, at least for a few minutes.

And Crowley let him. He knows how badly Aziraphale needs him, he needs the angel just as much. He knows how badly he craved an anchor and support system as he was first abused and traumatized by his Fall, then further by Hell. So he's going to continue being there for Aziraphale, doing everything he can to make his angel feel safe and comfortable.

Over the next few years, Aziraphale would become so much more comfortable reaching out and touching Crowley. Leaning into him, resting a hand on his shoulder or briefly touching his chest. Somehow both reassuring himself that the former demon was still there, and reminding Crowley that he's still there for him at the same time.

Then Crowley becomes more comfortable with the touch, leaning into the angel by himself. No longer flinching at a sudden graze of a hand or reassuring squeeze.

That one moment of the two holding hands on the bus cemented so much of their relationship. "The last few years, not really..." all started on that bus the moment Aziraphale chose to sit down next to Crowley.

edited: at first this said "new knowledge" because I just found out about this all the other day, and wrote this up at 3 AM, and didn't really fact check when this knowledge became well known. I've only really been a GO fan since maybe 2021, and only really started being active in the fandom during the last few months, so a lot of info that is fairly well known is still generally new to me. soo yeah this was edited :)

source for anyone asking for it!

[sweet-as-an-angel]

König w/ his S/O during a Panic Attack

Warnings: Mentions of panic attacks, in-depth detail of panic attack, angst, comfort, FLUFF, König being the most considerate man on the planet, no pronouns used for Reader except for 'You', words of affirmation, pet names

König was...confused upon your initial request for him to lay atop you like a weighted blanket.

Why would you want a 250 lbs man to effectively crush you? Especially at a time like this??

König has social anxiety, so panic and anxiety attacks are not unknown to him.

Far from it.

They were the only entity to keep him company whenever he left the house, whenever he thought about how he'd spoken to people that day (if at all), whenever he just existed.

That was before he met you, though.

You'd staved away and starved that monster, keeping it on a short leash and choking it whenever it tried to run away with König.

And he knew that the least you deserved was for him to do the same for you.

He just thought that maybe there was a safer way to go about it?

He was conscious of his mammoth proportions, and how little you were compared to him. He just didn't want to hurt you any more than you already were.

"I just- I--" your words were muddled, you shook your hands as if trying to dry them, trying to shake off the leech-like pinches of anxiety prickling your skin.

Your breathing was short, shallow, your own unique vision of the end of your world, social, physical and mental, playing through your head, shooting a reactor's worth of adrenaline straight into your chest.

You felt as if you were going to pass out and so took a hesitant seat on the edge of your shared bed, knee bouncing the second it was able to.

Tears pricked your throat and eyes, warning you.

You sniffed, trying to keep them at bay, tying to keep the dam within from overflowing.

"I just need this right now." You looked up at him, eyes pleading. "Please."

König needed no more persuasion after that.

Though, he did have some questions.

"Won't I hurt you?" he asked, voice gentle, coaxing you out from the hole you'd dug yourself into. He stroked your hair, handling you like the delicacy you were.

You gave a weak, watery smile, a laugh wanting to break its way through.

"No, no you won't," you promised. You cupped König's cheek with a shaking hand. "I trust you."

König's heart jumped, melted.

He positioned himself above you as you lay flat on your back, caging you. Or protecting you from all that could hurt you.

Slowly, carefully, very carefully, he lowered himself onto you, making sure to avoid any sensitive areas.

His chest was pressed against yours, his legs either side of yours, and his bulking arms lay at either side of your head.

He nestled his face into the crook of your neck, nuzzling you.

You could both feel your heart pounding against his chest, and having something there to almost absorb the anxiety pulsing from it made you feel calmer.

You tried grounding yourself, focusing only on König's warmth encompassing you, his steady breathing against your slim, shaking breaths.

It felt as if he were projecting his calmness onto you, into you. Healing you from the inside out.

"My sweet (Y/N)," König whispered, "Whatever has you in its dastardly grip will have to answer to me before it can reach you."

You knew he was serious; there was nothing König wouldn't or couldn't do for you.

Your happiness was his top and only priority, as his had been yours.

"I'll always be here for you. Even if you feel alone and scared, I'll be there, one way or another."

His voice was soft, silken. He swaddled you in it, cradling you in a rhythm that soothed you.

You burrowed further into König, wanting to be as close to him as physically possible (as if you weren't already).

The longer you remained attached, the less frequent the the tightness in your chest contracted, the slower your breathing became.

You began to feel drowsy, the post-panic attack high - the relief of the ordeal becoming only a memory - tailing off into a lulling low.

König could sense you were growing tired, you nuzzling your nose into his neck, a habit you'd formed when you were ready for bed.

"Thank you, König," you said between sleep.

König couldn't see your face, but he knew you were smiling, he could feel it brushing against his skin.

He smiled, too, and brushed his fingers across your scalp.

"Anything for you, maus." His voice was low. He wasn't long for the world of the conscious, either.

"You will never come to harm as long as I breathe," he whispered. He could tell by your breathing that you were just entering the realms of sleep.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I promise you that."

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[hotchscoffeecup]

savoring the moment

summary: it’s hotch’s first case back after recovering from being attacked. he returns home to find you caught in the throes of a panic attack. he guides you through it and takes care of you afterwards.

rating: t to be safe

tags: panic attack, hyperventilating, crying, minor blood, implied sex (at the very end), scars

word count: 2.3k

pairing: hotch x reader

the idea to have reader having a panic attack and being comforted by hotch was submitted to me anonymously. thank you for the request! and as a reminder, my fic requests are open!

Pulling your knees against your chest, you wrap your arms around them and rest your forehead against your knees.

“He’s okay,” you tell yourself, repeating it like a mantra. “He’s okay. He’s okay.”

Rain patters against the windowpane and you try to focus on the sound, trying to let it ground you back to reality and failing to do so as the pounding of your own heart threatens to drown out the sound of everything else around you.

These are the early onset symptoms of a panic attack and you know it’s only a matter of time until it hits you with the full force of a storm like the one that’s raging outside. They’d been far and few between lately, but this was his first case back in the field since he’d been attacked and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen. You know the risks, and you know he’s capable of keeping himself safe. The team always has each other’s backs and they’ll do anything to keep one another safe. Why hasn’t he called?

You take in a shuddering breath and exhale it just as shakily. Your hands tremble as you swipe them through your hair.

Water. Maybe a glass of water will help. You slide out of bed and stand. The blood rushes to your head, which causes you to waver on the spot.

“He’s okay,” you whisper to yourself. You clench the hem of your sweater, rubbing the fibers between your fingers. “Five things I can see,” you whisper to yourself as you move towards the bathroom. As you reach for the empty glass on the bathroom counter, you take a shaky breath and speak on the exhale. “Counter, cup, mirror,” your eyes flick up and meet yours, the purple rings under them more like bruises. “Myself, sink.”

You take another breath and try to keep moving through the exercise that your therapist taught you. Twisting the knob on the faucet, you place the glass underneath and watch it fill. “Four…four things I can hear.” You struggle to turn the water off for the shaking in your hands. “Rain, the air conditioner…” you pause and try to strain your ears, failing to pick up on any other distinct noises. That’s when you become aware of your racing heartbeat again. It’s so fast; slamming up against your ribcage. You envision the organ bursting free of your chest and your hands start to shake so violently that you drop the glass. It shatters against the bathroom tile and you gasp, cursing as you kneel down to pick up the pieces.

You try to be careful, but your hand slips and a shard of glass slices into your palm. Immediately, you clutch your hand with the other and roll onto your hip. As you watch the blood drip between your fingers, a vision of his blood staining the hardwood flashes in your mind’s eye and suddenly you’re back in the hospital waiting room waiting for him to come out of surgery. The dam bursts then and you can’t fight the monster inside of you that is the anxiety. It bites and claws at your insides until it bursts free from you in an explosion of tears and guttural sobs. You struggle to take in a full breath as you begin to hyperventilate. You’re not sure how long you sit there feeling wave after wave of panic crashing over you, holding you under and dragging you further and further away from yourself, lost in the throes of an aggressive undertow. Your vision starts to blacken around the corners and you don’t even register the hands on your shoulders or the man kneeling in front of you.

Your pupils rapidly dart back and forth, desperately trying to make sense of your surroundings but all you can make out is your name. It's faint and faraway, like a ghost whispering on a midnight wind.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you try to focus on the sound of your name until it becomes clearer. It’s Aaron.

Aaron. Aaron. Your partner. Your fiance. Aaron, yes, Aaron. You swallow hard and open your eyes, vision blurring momentarily before clearing. He’s on his knees in front of you, brown eyes warm albeit concerned. He’s holding a rag against your bloody hand. He applies pressure to the wound to stem the bleeding and the pain oddly brings you closer to baseline. It’s something real and tangible you can hold onto as the panic tries to pull you back under.

“Honey, breathe,” Hotch prompts. “Listen to my voice. You’re safe. I’m here.”

You reach for him, cupping his cheek in your uninjured hand. Stroking your thumb against the cut of his jaw, you find solace in the depths of his eyes. It’s him. It’s really him. Your lip quivers and you fall into him. His name rattles out of your mouth as you collapse into him. You throw your arms around him and sob into the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of his cologne washing over you.

“Shh,” he soothes, rubbing his hand in circles against your back. “Deep breaths,” he says and you feel him inhale beneath you. He exhales and inhales again, modeling the pattern you need to follow to reach baseline.

Your voice cracks when you speak. “You didn’t call. I was—” You breathe in and release a shaky breath. “I was so afraid that—”

Hotch cradles you against him, one arm looped around your waist while his opposite hand tangles into your hair to hold you close. “My phone died. I’m so sorry I didn’t mean to scare you.” He guides you through several more long deep breaths and your temples pound from the dehydration that comes with crying from a place so deep inside yourself.

As your heart rate finally drops back down to normal, the weight of exhaustion slams into you and you feel it dragging at all of your bones leaving all of your limbs feeling leaden.

“Why don’t you take a shower with me, hmm?” Hotch asks gently.

You nod against his chest, feeling the sticky sheen of tears wetting your cheeks. He helps you up and helps you sit on top of the closed toilet seat. He cranks on the shower and disappears out of the room for only a second before returning with a small broom and dustpan. Steam is billowing out from behind the shower curtain by the time he finishes cleaning up the broken glass. He helps you shrug out of your sweater and while he undoes his tie and dress shirt, you shimmy out of your sweatpants. When you step under the steady stream of hot water, you hiss as it stings the open cut in your palm. Blood washes down your hand, swirling down the drain in diluted pink rivulets.

Hotch joins you in the shower, stepping behind you to let you enjoy as much of the warm water as possible. “Let me help,” he says, taking your hand in his. After lathering the soap bar in his hand, he gently cleans the inflamed area. You wince and he apologizes, “I know it hurts.” He rinses your hand and leans out of the shower to grab another washcloth off of the rack. He presses it into your hand and softly instructs you to hold pressure to it.

You laugh weakly, “Aaron, I’m going to ruin all the washcloths.”

He bends down and kisses your forehead. “I’ll buy more. I’m just glad you’re okay.” He turns you around and presses himself against your back, threading his arms through yours and holding you close to him. You just stand like that, under the steady flow of warm water.. You close your eyes and lean back against his chest. Aaron hums and rocks you gently.

“I love you,” you murmur after a while.

You feel him smile against your hairline. “I love you, too.”

You turn then, holding your injured hand over his shoulder out of the stream of water while your other splays against his chest. You feel the raised scar tissue under your hand, bumpy and rough. Your eyes trail down the length of his torso, identifying each scar. Hotch places his fingertips beneath your chin, tilting your face up so that you can look at him. His features are relaxed, his gaze steady. “Honey,” he says, almost sternly. “I’m okay.”

You nod, “I know that.”

“Then let me help you be okay, hmm? Does that sound alright?”

Again, you nod.

He spends the next fifteen minutes taking careful care to wash and condition your hair, massaging your scalp and combing through your hair before rinsing it out. He lathers soap against your skin after, using the palms of his hands to smooth it over every curve and fold of your body; littering kisses across your skin as he does so. For himself, he takes very little time; just a quick scrub and wash of his hair before he cranks the water off.

He wraps you in a fluffy towel before wrapping one around his waist. He dips into your shared bedroom and returns moments later with your robe and the first aid kit you keep in the hall closet. You finish towel drying your hair before letting him help you into your robe, which he loosely ties around your waist. You sit on the edge of your bed and let Hotch work on your hand.

“The bleeding stopped, that’s good” He observes after peeling away the wash cloth. He applies a small bit of antibiotic gel across the length of the cut and places a fresh gauze pad against it, which he then secures by wrapping a roller bandage around your palm and wrist.

“Have you ever thought about quitting the BAU and becoming a paramedic?”

Aaron breathes out a laugh as he tucks the tail end of the bandage in. “Definitely not.”

You pout, sticking out your lower lip. “But you’d look so sexy in that uniform.”

He laughs and shakes his head before placing a quick peck against your cheek. “There’s that sense of humor I love so much.”

He stands and discards the soiled rag and paper wrappings in the bathroom trash can. He washes his hands and uses the towel around his waist to dry them. He puts on a pair of sweats, the words FBI ACADEMY faded and worn running down the one leg.

“How does tea and ice cream sound?”

You smile, and for the first time that evening it feels genuine. “That sounds perfect.”

While he busies himself out in the kitchen, you tie your hair up in a loose knot on top of your head and finish your skincare routine.

As you’re crawling under the covers, Aaron enters the room. He’s cradling two bowls against his chest with one arm while he holds two steaming mugs by their handles in the opposite hand. He crouches awkwardly by the bed, safely placing the bowls of ice cream on the nightstand. He rises to his full height and passes the mug to you.

“Sleepy time tea?” you ask, recognizing the smell.

“I felt like you could use the extra help tonight.”

He tosses the covers back and climbs into bed beside you, placing his own mug down on the nightstand. He lets you take a sip before he takes your cup and sets it beside his.

Taking your hands in his, he strokes his thumb along the back of your uninjured hand. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“I am now that you’re home.”

His eyebrows turn, “Honey, I can take some vacation time. I know you’ve been doing better since my attack, but it makes sense that my return to work would serve as a trigger and—”

“Aaron,” you chide. “You’re profiling me.”

He presses his lips together and smiles apologetically. “All I’m saying is if my going back right now is too much for you, I can try to limit my presence in the field.”

You eye him knowingly, “Yeah, because that worked so well when your ear was damaged in that explosion.” Your brow pinches as you regard your fiance. “Well, that’s not something every couple can say, huh?”

Aaron chuckles and stretches an arm around your shoulders, drawing you in close to his side. “Definitely not, but nothing about our relationship has ever been normal, has it?”

You lean into him and press a kiss against his jaw. “I’ll be okay, Aaron, really. It’s been a long time since I’ve had a panic attack like that. I think it was just because it was your first case back since…” You hesitate. “…the incident.” You reach over him and grab the two bowls of ice cream off of his nightstand, handing one to him before settling back against the pillows.

You dig your spoon into the vanilla ice cream, stirring it some before taking a bite. You close your eyes and savor its sweetness.

“Are you sure?” Aaron asks.

You open your eyes and look up at him from beneath your lashes. “I’m sure. I’m working with my therapist. I’m coping. I’m taking it day by day, just like I know you are.”

“One day at a time.” He leans down and kisses you softly. “Mmm, you taste like vanilla.”

You smile against his lips. “My therapist did advise us to prioritize living in the present moment.

He sets his bowl of ice cream aside and loops his arms around your waist, heaving you onto his lap. “Did they now?”

You laugh and feel it deep in your belly, the panic you’d felt earlier seeming so far away now. “And how do you suppose we do that?”

He pulls at the tie on your robe. “Oh, I bet I can think of something.”

You dip your spoon back into your bowl of ice cream, an idea of your own coming to mind. “You said you like the taste of vanilla?” You slip the spoon between your lips, amusement glinting in your eyes.

Aaron nods, taking the bowl from your hands and capturing your lips with his. As his hands fold around your body, you feel him smile against your lips. “I love the taste of vanilla.”

And you’ve never felt safer than in his arms right then, savoring the moment.

[writingoddess1125]

Bigger House

Fluffy Fluff Corny shit-

Next Part >>>

Simon 'Ghost' Riley x FemReader

<<< Previous

You were sitting on the couch reading a book and dozing off, It had been a quiet few weeks since you'd sent the letter to Simon telling him of your pregnancy.

It had been radio silence which you expected in truth, however you were mildly worried of the conversation that would be had soon. You didn't know gow he would react or if he hated the card surprise you'd given him- However you suppressed the anxiety that built in your chest and instead focused on the book at hand.

The sound of a fast moving car caught your ear however- Your senses going on high alert as the sound of someone jumping from the clearly barely parked car- You starting to scan for were Simon kept a pistol in the room-

You damn near jumped from your skin as the door of the cabin suddently slammed open, there stood Simon still in his gear and scanning the room clearly looking for you. Ripping the mask from his face quickly as he stared at you in total shock and awe-

"Is it true?" He said suddently, an unfamiliar panic in his eyes which made you set the book to the side and nod. Grabbing the stack of doctor pages and ultrasounds on the coffee table holding them out to him.

He practically threw off his vest and duffel bag across the room and sat next to you on the couch quickly going through the stack of papers infront of him. It was like he was going through a mission file before your eyes, absorbing every drop of information there on the pages.

Still coming down from the mini heart attack from the clearly frazzled man you watched him- the bags under his eyes was worse and he looked a bit shaggier then normal, Clearly in his own head.

"Simon are y-?" You try to get in, but he reached a hand out grabbing you and hugging you tightly. Nothing was said just yet but you held the man, feeling a tension and light tremors in his arms as he held you.

Rubbing his back gently you let the two of you have the moment of just reveling in the sweet bliss of being with each other.

After 30 minutes of this you two untangled from each other and began to settle, Simon listening to you chatter about the scans, the side of the babies and looking at things you'd need. The soilder chuckling as he shook his head-

"Yeah I've already started that too.. we need a damn van-" He said spacing at the thought, you couldn't help but find the idea of Simon in a Minivan hilarious.

"Oh! Did you like the card?" You ask sweetly, seeing his shoulders stiffen at the mention of it.

Simon gave you incredibly serious look at you- "Swear no laughing-" He said as seriously as a heart attack. Your browser raising at his absolute insistence of you keeping whatever it was a secret.

"I swear?" You agree, now highly curious of what had happened to your dear husband when he found out.

"...I passed out when I read it and was sent to the medbay for 24hrs- and Price saw it.." He grumbled, staring you hard in the eyes as you bit your cheeks and tried to keep as even of a face as possible.

"D-Did you?" You managed to wheeze out trying to suppress the laugh that was bubbling in your chest.

Simon sent a half ass glare your way which broke the dam made you laugh- Loudly. He rolled his eyes and mutter something along the lines 'Swear my Ass' Waving him off as you sat there, Simon however softened his glare and reached a hand forward and touching your stomach with gentle hand.

"They are really in there-"

He muttered, still shocked by the idea of his children inside. You smile at him and gently caress his naked face, feeling the stubble against your fingertips.

[emmyrosee]

Hiii how are u todayyyy could I request y/n coming home finding osamu crying??… i dunno I just want to see y/n comfort him etc etc love ur writing btw byeee🫶🫶🫶

I changed this slightly mwah mwah 🫶🏻🫶🏻

-

“You know what I could go for right now?”

Osamu’s had a hard day. Between guests telling him off about food they didn’t enjoy and the line that had been wrapped around the building all day, it’s a miracle he’s even still awake and cognizant enough to talk to you. His anxiety has been building for the past four days in a catch up of bills, coupled with a fight with Atsumu over something small that’s now been blown up to where the blonde told him not to come to his wedding. An empty threat, maybe, but it doesn’t help the mountain of things against your man right now.

He’s having a hard time accepting Atsumu’s threat.

You’ve been an escape, yes. But this is far more than he’s ever been thrown in such a short amount of time.

You raise your head from his chest with a soft hum, “what, baby?”

He looks up at the ceiling with a small smile, “just some nice, hot fries from McDonalds and a coke. It just sounds so good right now.”

You smile and plant a kiss to his jawline, “after the week you’ve had, I’ll get you anything you want, Osamu.”

“Yeah?” He chuckles. “How ‘bout a kiss?”

“Well that’s a definite,” you snicker, leaning up to press a sweet kiss to his lips, your hand coming up to gently caress the sharpness of his jawline. He mewls happily, and you pull back with a playful bite of his lip. "I'll get you nuggets too if you do the dishes."

"I mean, how could I say no to that?"

You laugh some more before planting one more kiss to him and getting up and off the bed, tugging on a pair of sweats and hoodie to combat the chilled night sky. He follows you out of the room and settles at the sink, watching you fondly as you grab your keys and blow him a kiss.

“Drive safe,” he reminds you as you close the door.

You barely make it five feet to the car before you groan, forgetting to ask him if he wants sauce or anything else after his hard day.

You spin on your heel and make your way back inside, “stink, do you want sauce-“

There’s a sob that stops your question dead, and a pained pout crosses you. Osamu stands at the sink, hands gripping the edge so tight, his knuckles lighten from the force. One of his them comes up to cover his mouth and muffle himself as you come back in, his shoulders trembling as he desperately tries to pull himself together.

“What?”

You clear your throat, “do you want sauce, baby…? With your fries and nuggets?”

“B-barbecue,” he whimpers, hand immediately coming up to scrub his eyes. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

You let him have a moment of silence before stalking into the kitchen, wrapping your arms around his waist, resting your head against his shoulder that shakes under you. "I know," you whisper, your thumb stroking his side lovingly. “I know, Osamu.”

"Why would he say that?" He sobs, shaking his head in his hands. "What did I even do?"

You don’t say anything, letting him cry it out and letting his shoulders heave and wail. You press a kiss to his bicep, squeezing him closer to you while he continues to cry in his hands, sniffling and trying desperately to catch his breath.

“I don’t deserve this,” he manages, fingers pressing into his eyes. His breathing starts to hyperventilate, and you pat his back softly.

"You need to focus on breathing, Osamu."

At your reminder, he sniffles and twists his body to wind himself around you, only for a particularly loud wail slips through his mouth, and his knees buckle under him. You guide him to sit on the floor and into your arms, which cradle his pounding skull. "I have to go to this wedding," he explains. "He's my brother, h-he's my best friend."

"I know, baby, I know..."

The dam breaks and out comes every worry and despair plaguing his mind, flowing in incoherent babbles and wheezy cries that stain your hoodie in hot tears. You screw your eyes shut to keep your own tears at bay as he fists the fabric of your pullover and squeezes you impossibly closer.

"I'm so tired," he chokes, his breath coming out short and forced.

"I know, Osamu,” you assure. “I wish I could take it away from you, I do…”

But you can’t. All you can do, all you can offer him, is all the love in your soul, all the patience and tenderness he deserves that the world hasn’t been giving him lately.

And in a few minutes, you’ll ask him if he’s still hungry, or if he wants to call Atsumu to figure this out. If he’ll want to close the restaurant tomorrow, or if he wants to just go back to bed and let the harmful thoughts be stilled.

But for now, you let him cry, wailing into your skin while he trembles in your grasp.

It’s the least you could do.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

On Dark Days

Matt Murdock x Reader

Words: 2199

Summary: Sometimes your mind turns against you. Your partner is there to help. 

Notes: Another self indulgent comfort imagine. Sometimes I just want a Matt Murdock hug, you know? As always with these, this is entirely based on my own experiences and struggles.

Warnings: Dark thoughts, mental illness, anxiety, etc. 

More Matt Imagines: HERE

-

He knew something was wrong when you didn’t answer the phone. You always answered when he called, your voice holding a smile every time, making it impossible for him not to grin as well. He’d wanted to ask you what you wanted for dinner so he could pick it up, but you didn’t answer. And, fearing the worst, Matt rushed home as soon as he could, leaving a pile of work on his desk that he would just deal with later. 

The apartment was still when he got home. Eerily still. But there, sounding like gunfire in the silence, was a racing heartbeat and quick, exerting breaths. 

Matt sighed, but not out of relief. 

He knew exactly what this was and a new kind of worry settled into his chest. There was no salt in the air, which meant you weren’t crying, which meant you were keeping it all locked inside of you. It was eating away at you and there was nothing he could do to stop it. But he could help you through. 

Matt opened the door to the bedroom, finding you facing away and curled up on your side. You were on top of the covers, arms shivering and wrapped around yourself. 

“I’m home,” he said silently, hoping not to scare you. 

Your shoulders tensed. “Hi.” 

Matt didn’t need to ask. He simply crawled into bed beside you, pulling you to his frame, arms locked tight around you to hold you against his chest. It was something he found seemed to help, a reassurance that he was there and that you weren’t falling into the dark that was consuming you. 

He stayed like that for a while, not saying anything, not prying… just holding you while you shook and breathed and your heartbeat slowly calmed from your second panic attack of the night. 

“That’s it,” he whispered. “Breathe in.” His chest moved against your back as he did it with you. “Breathe out. In… out…” Matt kissed the top of your head. “There you go.” 

“Sorry,” you mumbled, curling up even more. 

Matt shook his head. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He pulled you a little closer, feeling your body tense up again. You were starting to shake and your heartbeat slowly started to pick up. He knew what it was. Guilt. Guilt for feeling the way you did, for thinking you were doing something wrong. Matt held you tight, not letting you go. “Hey hey hey, it’s okay.” 

“You called…” You said softly. “I should have answered. I’m sorry. I know how m-much you worry.” 

“It’s okay,” Matt insisted. “You’re here. Safe. And I’m here now, okay? You aren’t alone. I’m right here.” 

You could feel his steady heartbeat against your back and his hands soothingly rubbing your arms and sides. 

“You’re back early from work,” you said. “It’s my fault.”

“I came back because I wanted to.” Matt kissed the base of your neck. “I want to be with you.” He knew your brain was telling you otherwise. 

You stopped arguing for a while and just laid there, staring blankly at the wall in front of you. 

Matt shifted a little, leaning so you could see his worried, blank eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?” 

You melted into his touch. 

“Do you need to talk about it?” 

“Matt-”

“Sweetheart, you know it helps,” he urged gently. Matt turned you around in his arms so you were facing him. He laid a hand on your cheek. “Talk to me, baby. Please.” 

His words and quiet, sweet tone hit your chest. He seemed to punch a hole through the dam. Finally, you started to cry. 

“Okay.” Matt tucked your head under his chin. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.” 

“I don’t…” You sucked in a shaking breath only to cough it back out with a quiet sob. “I don’t understand it. There’s nothing to talk about. Nothing h-happened.” You tried in vain to wipe away the falling tears, your hands shaking so bad they were hard to move. “I just feel so wrong.” There was one word that always described when you got like this. “Dark. Everything feels so dark.” 

Matt gently brushed your tears away with his thumb, bringing you closer to kiss your forehead. 

“I know, sweetheart. I know.” It shattered him to hear the quivering in your voice, but he knew that the demons that you dealt with were just that- demons. Thoughts your mind used against you. It didn’t define you. He always just tried to remind you of that. “Are you sure nothing happened?” He continued. 

You burrowed closer to him. 

That meant no.

“Okay, so what is it? What’s your head trying to turn around, huh?” He kept his tone a little lighter, giving you a small, reassuring smile as he tucked a hair behind your ear. 

“I can’t do anything right,” you admitted. “Work. My friends… This.” You laid a hand on his chest. 

Matt nodded. “And what is your mind telling you about all of that? What’s it trying to base it on?” 

You started to retreat into yourself again, but Matt held strong. He rubbed smooth circles into your temples, soothing the anxiety headache that you had been trying to ignore. 

“It’s okay, baby.”

You took another deep, trembling breath, speaking as you breathed out. 

“I just feel like I’ve done something,” you whispered, like if you said it too loud it would become true. “I don’t know what, but everyone just seems off around me. Like they all have this secret about me that I have no idea what it is, but they won’t tell me, but it’s changing how they feel about me.” You buried your face in the crook of his neck. “I did something wrong and I don’t know how to fix it.” 

“Do you think I’ve been different around you?” He asked, his tone never raising or accusing. He stayed absolutely light. 

“No…” You sniffed. “I don’t know, maybe.” You brought your hands up to your face to further hide yourself. “I don’t know anything. I just know it all feels like it’s my f-fault.” Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm. 

“Alright,” Matt sighed, pulling you back to him. “Let it out, sweetheart. I’m right here.” 

But the energy you’d had to cry had all but gone out, leaving you shaking and sniffling in his arms. You felt so pathetic. 

“You know that I’m not upset with you, right?” 

You tried to turn away. “I know, but-”

“Hold on, I want you to sit with that for a second, okay?” Matt instructed, making sure you stayed locked against him, safe and loved in his embrace. “You haven’t done anything to upset me. If I’ve been different, it’s stress from work. It isn’t because of you. You didn’t do anything.” His hands found every tension in your back and gently rubbed it out. He always knew exactly how to calm you down, whether it was with touch or his soft words. “Say it for me, hm?”

You shook your head weakly. 

“Y/N…” He pressed. 

You blew out a sigh. “I didn’t do anything.” 

“Nothing is your fault.”

“N-nothing is my fault.”

“Your head wants you to believe it, but it isn’t true.”

You looked up at him, finding his distant, dark, loving eyes absently roaming your face. “It isn’t true.”

“There.” Matt brought your lips to his for a soft, assuring kiss. “I know it's hard to get past it, but those tricky thoughts are just that- tricks.” He kissed you again, a little deeper, but still gentle and loving. He pulled away with a smile teasing his lips. “I love you, Y/N. No matter what your mind tries to tell you. I’ll always love you.”

You snuggled closer to him, finally letting yourself smile a little. “I love you too, Matty.”

It wasn’t something you could explain- why your head did this to you, why it was so hard to move some days, why there were times when all you could think about was that you were broken and unlovable. Nor could you explain how Matt was able to pull you out of the dark that consumed you. While he couldn't fix everything, he could always ground you and remind you of the things in your life you loved and the people who loved you. 

Matt’s hands slowly fell to your waist, holding you close to him while he breathed you in. After a while, his cheek nuzzled against yours, a new concern building in his mind. 

“Did you eat today?” He asked. 

You didn’t answer. 

Matt sighed. “Say it for me, sweetheart.” The two of you had been over this before as well. 

“I don’t have to ‘deserve’ a meal,” you breathed out. You’d been too tired, too consumed by your thoughts to realize how hungry you were. Even if you had realized it, you wouldn’t let yourself eat when you got like this. As if you had to earn food by being happy. It was something Matt was helping you work through too. 

Matt nodded and sat up. “I’m ordering your favorite and not taking no for an answer, so don’t even try.” With another little grin, he kissed you one more time before climbing out of bed to reach for his phone. 

You watched him, uncurling your body for the first time in several hours. Your muscles were stiff and ached, but you embraced it. Feeling sore was better than feeling empty. 

Matt wasn’t gone long, having called your favorite restaurant and ordered delivery. He also put on a record of your favorite artist, letting the music fill the living room. He returned to the bed and lifted you up in his arms without warning, spinning you around to the melody. 

“Matt!” You squealed, laughter bubbling through your lips. 

Matt beamed. “I knew I could get a laugh somehow.” He kissed your temple and held you close to his chest, carrying you bridal style to the living room while still swaying to the song. He took you to the couch and sat you down, wrapping you up in a blanket and walking back to the kitchen to make you some hot chocolate. 

“You know… I think there’s some cookie dough left in the freezer if you’re up for it,” he offered, raising an eyebrow. 

You couldn’t help but chuckle. “Is that saying you want to make cookies?” 

“Hey, I’m just trying to help you,” he said, holding his hands up. A wicked grin spread across his face. “It’s not my fault if I also happen to get cookies out of it.” 

“Uhuh.” You held your arms out. “Now get back here, Mr. Murdock.” 

Matt brought over the warm drinks and sat down beside you, pulling you back into his arms and kissing your forehead. 

“Better?” He asked softly, lips against your cheek. 

You nodded, frowning. “For now anyway.”

He held you a little tighter. “If it comes back, just let me know, and we’ll work through it together, okay?” 

You nodded again, this time not saying anything and just settling against him. A tightness gripped at your chest and you felt a wave of embarrassment wash over you. 

“I’m sorry, Matt.”

He pulled back. “For what?”

“For making you do this. You have so much going on and I hate that I add to it.” You swallowed. “It isn’t fair of me to put this on your shoulders.”

Matt grabbed you by the arms, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your skin. 

“Y/N, how many times have I come back here beaten to hell and thinking I can’t do it anymore? How many times have I wanted to give up the fight? To let the darkness of the world take over?” He asked. You tried to look away, but he brought a hand up to your chin to make you look at him to see the sincerity in his face. “Who was the one who reminded me that there’s good? That there’s a reason to keep going? That I matter?” 

His finger swiped away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. 

“You did, Y/N,” he said. “You always do. No matter how much I want to give up, you won’t let me.” Matt kissed you, firm and sure and everything you needed. “I will be there for you as many times as you need for as long as you need because I love you.” Matt rested his forehead against yours. “It’s not how you hit the mat…”

“It’s how you get up,” you finished, giving him a small smile. You pressed your lips to his, draping your arms around him. 

The food arrived and the two of you spent the rest of the night listening to music and talking about new bakeries and boxing and work and everything in between. You weren’t totally out of it by the end of the night, but with every moment in your lover’s arms, you felt more and more like yourself. 

Matt couldn’t keep the dark away. He knew that. But he could help you find the light again, no matter how long it took. 

[lullaebies]

Not sure if you still want Jaehaegon prompts BUT a fic/drabble of the way Aegon III and Jaehaera both grieve specifically their mothers would go insane especially with your writing. Them being both extremely codependent yet unable to talk to the other about this one thing, the suppressed guilt, the waking nightmares Aegon would surely have of Jaehaera’s beloved father having his mother eaten alive right in front of him…plus the books say Rhaenyra was so dependent on having Aegon around 24/7 after she lost all her other children, how would that manifest in him now?

Have a really nice day!!!

a/n: ahhhhh i loved writing this prompt. it had been on my mind since i got it and i finally got time to tap into it (as well as other reqs that i'm slowly chipping into!). i hope you will enjoy this dear, and thank you so much for the compliments too <3 it ended up more about Aegon's experiences but there are touches on Jaehaera's side of things. I do write TG side of things more often though so he def deserves the focus I feel!

“Even while we are in the castle, you are not to leave me. Not for a moment, Aegon,” she says, tugging roughly on his hand. 

“Mother, I—” he replies, frightened at the clutch of her grip. He first tries to escape, pull his arm away, but she holds him tighter while his legs try to match her pace. “Mother, it hurts!”

And her grip suddenly loosens. He nearly trips, on the sands of Dragonstone, the dunes he had once built castles with on this shore, with his brothers. Rhaenyra falls to her knees upon it, clutching him against her in an apologetic embrace. “I am sorry. I am sorry…” she swallows

He feels the very air of the island is awry, not the same, as her feet and dress bury into the sand. He holds her back, trying to keep her afloat, though his own throat is dry at what to say. Ser Alfred Broome and his men watching him made him both shy and chilled.

She runs a hand through his hair. “We shall see to that our home is safe, and stay safe, the two of us, yes?” 

Aegon is scared, feeling dwarved by the world, but his mother’s voice is begging, and his only offer to console her, as always, is to agree.

“...Yes—”

The earth beneath becomes hot, as the sun rises above Dragonstone, turning from yellow to gold. Its rays turn into flare, and the sand turns into glass. He screams for his mother to flee — but glass shatters, puncturing his throat as he screams.

He wakes up in cold sweat, his whole body trembling. He is alone on his side of the bed, and the wind blows harshly from the open window, but not enough to dispel the heat from his bones. As if possessed, he lifts himself up from the bed, eyes taking in the dark room.

“Aegon?” Jaehaera stands up. She had sat by a roaring fireplace, making the woods within it crack as they blacken. And for a moment, it is equal parts anxiety and betrayal, tears against the dam that are his silver lash line. His feet thunder before him, grabbing the golden pitcher of wine on their table, tossing it whole at the fireplace. Droplets from it scatter like tricklets of blood on the carpet. The fire sizzles as Jaehaera gasps, but it is not fully put out.

“It won’t disappear, it won’t disappear!” his low voice trembles. His breaths feel like fire courses up his throat, and he feels sick. On the brink of vomiting from disgust — his own home is not safe, his own body betraying him to become flame — he thinks Jaehaera too is running away from him, but soon enough, she finds a glass of water within their room to douse the remaining flame.

The room then darkens significantly. The moonlight remains, refusing to let him become blind for the end, but he closes his eyes, wanting to refuse to its will too. He is not burnt, but he feels fragile ash, left behind in the wind, falling to the floor.

In the complete silence that dominates the room, in the black escape of his closed eyes, he sees his mother, as though she has never left. He hadn’t been allowed to move an inch from her, until the very moment the beast had devoured her. The one moment he wanted to run to her, make her move. The fire devoured her, as did the dragon, but he remained behind, her shadow.

A shadow of a man remains today, too.

The utter quiet that he regains his mind in remains unbroken until he opens his eyes, doing his best to keep any tears unshed. Jaehaera doesn’t dare to move a step, her fingers curling around the empty glass of water as she watches him. His heart weakens again — he should’ve known not to be so helpless in the presence of women just as helpless as he.

Mother, I’m sorry, he wants to return to the dream, to say that to her instead. He cannot, but his wife is here.

“I…” it’s on the tip of his tongue, but he doesn’t know how to begin. He doesn’t want to apologize, when he still feels his mother’s hold on him. But I shouldn’t have scared her, still, and yet again, if he does apologize, he’d have to explain why, to begin with. 

He and Jaehaera don’t speak of these things. For the better of them both, for the sake of their lost loved kin, for the sake of love not being lost again. She knows what had occurred on Dragonstone, as he knows what has occurred in King’s Landing. The histories will not forget, but they ever attempt to do so, regardless.

‘Tis be duty, for the very realm. He would say that to himself, again and again, until his own guilt creeps up on him. Reminding him so — that this is his sin, the need to cling to the daughter of the scorching sun, the last light.

Jaehaera puts away the cup, and approaches him with ghostly steps. If she had liked, she could thunder through the room. She could give him her known scowl and turn away. She could even leave with less than a whisper. Everything is imaginable, when they have went through all imaginable. As a little girl, he heard her weep more than he can count, even from the other side of Maegor’s Holdfast, but she’s no longer that little girl.

She lowers herself to her knees too, and reaches over to embrace him, guiding his head to occupy the crook of her neck. The stone floor is firm, but he feels himself sinking into her. His breaths grow wavering again.

“I’m sorry,” it finally comes out, those words and the tears, and the honest, brutal truth. “It won’t leave me,” he says. “That memory, my mother—” he stops himself, shutting his eyes hard.

It aches so deeply, and it tears him apart, him of the past and him of the future. In this present, this very moment, he doesn’t even know who he is at all. Doesn’t know how to talk, or explain, or do a thing but freeze in time, so afraid of fire.

Jaehaera holds him tighter. Her fingers move soothingly through the nearby white of his hair, when she finally allows herself to speak. “Do you remember the first time you held me?” she asks him. 

He swallows. He remembers, yes. One would expect it to be their first night, but it wasn’t. His first hold of her had been a full year prior, when she had been reduced to tears at a feast. Nothing of his machinations, but of his regents. Their planning, however, had not taken into account that that day had been the anniversary of his aunt Helaena’s death. Or perhaps they had, and only wished to overwrite the day’s meaning. 

Aegon hadn’t realized. Jaehaera had barely spoken a pip to him back then. But then she broke down in tears in the middle of the feast, and although he had been apt to ignore her from their distant rooms, he couldn’t quite ignore it then when The Queen fled the room, and everyone simply stood and watched.

None of his regents could hold him in his place, for the very principle he refuses to ever be reduced to a spectator by ‘loyal’ men. 

And so he went after her — and they were ever so clear with how she looked down the moat, and mumbled about ‘mum’. He had been there when her mother died; it connected quickly. There were no words he could dare speak. No matter how averse to touch he had been, his only way to answer her had been his arms coming around her, and letting her sob within them.

He assumed it would be a futile effort, as holding the hands of those who slowly passed from Winter Fever had been… but she cried until she fell asleep, until he had already been lulled by the night himself, and they both woke up the morning after to the sun’ touching them with only soft rays.

“I know what plagues you, as you know what plagues me,” Jaehaera tells him. “You held me when I cried for my kin and the past. You needed no explanation or clause to console me. I won’t ask it of you either,” she says. “‘It is enough reason to hold you, knowing you need to be held.”

Aegon gathers her in his arms, some will of strength returning to them. 

He can ask her to never leave his side. He can plead with her, that they have to make this home safe, to remain safe, the two of them. He can leave her with no choice but to agree, even if she is doubtful. He can — but he doesn’t think he has to. She knows, and he has reached a place where his belief in it, his own yes, is not laced with doubt.

Aegon closes his eyes, and lets himself weep until sleep overtakes him. Within his drowsiness, as his last tear falls, he can see his mother at the back of his mind, offering him a soft smile. The morning sun will wake him again, but there will be no scorching no more. His last light’s tight embrace assures it too.

[baby-yongbok]

You & Me

Han Jisung x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, idol

✨️Masterlist✨️

Warnings: mentions of wanting to die. (It's just for a second, I swear), Themes of a breakup/ ended relationship

Word Count: 1,460

Note: As soon as I heard Miserable (You & Me) I knew that I had to write based off of the lyrics. So I wrote this in thirty minutes while on anxiety medication that makes me a zombie so I'm sorry if it sucks but I actually love it.

Summary: You and Han's last call is emotional, to say the least.

"Did you tell them yet?" You whispered into your phone receiver. Han was quiet for a second before sighing heavily.

"No… I'm not sure that I know how to. Do I just say, hey guys y/n and I broke up during rehearsal or something?" He lets out a sad chuckle and a ghost of a smile pulls at your lips.

"Just sit them down and tell them, Ji… I don't want you to go through this alone." It's quiet for a few seconds. The dim light in your room embracing you softly, mirroring how you feel inside.

"I'm not going through this alone… you're going through it too."

"You know what I mean, Ji." You sigh, shutting your eyes and leaning your head against your bed's headboard. "You know… we probably won't really talk anymore anyway so -"

"Don't say that." Han's words are rushed but you can still hear the pain behind them. "Of course we can talk."

"About what? Do you want to reminisce about all of our arguments? Or talk about the future we gave up on? Talking to you would just…" Your voice grows smaller as you process your emotions.

"Don't." Han whispers, you can imagine his pained facial expression. Eyes closed and his nose slightly scrunched as he battled his heavy thoughts.

"It would just be painful… for both of us and I don't want you to be in any more pain, Jisung."

"Then let's fix this, y/n… let's figure out the long distance."

"Ji…"

"Please, you don't understand how many times I shut my eyes and hope that when I open them that this is all a dream. For two years you have been my everything, y/n. You have been the center of everything, you are a part of my life and if I have to let you go…if I really have to let you go then I honestly rather be dead."

Tears fall down your cheeks as you bring your knees to your chest and shrink into yourself. You knew that this would be hard when you decided to break up with Han but you also knew that the long distance and constant fighting wasn't what either of you needed or wanted right now. Deep down Han knew that too, he was just too afraid to say it.

"I know that this is hard… I've cried every night since we talked about it but this just can't work… I never see you, Ji… your job is something bigger than the both of us right now and it's not anyone's fault… it's just how your life is designed and right now I don't fit here… we don't fit here." You hear Han sniffle on the other line and you swear that your heart breaks a bit more. The sound only makes your own tears fall heavier.

"Is there someone else?" His question comes out in a whisper. He didn't want to ask it but knowing him he probably couldn't go another second without a solid answer to his intrusive thoughts.

"Of course not."

"Then… then tell me you're still mine, baby, please."

"Jisung… you shouldn't call me that." You pull your lips into a thin line as you take in the silence on the other line. At this point the silence has said more than either of you for this entire conversation.

"Please." His voice is once again barely above a whisper and you bring a hand up over your heart to make sure it's still beating. You're almost positive that the amount of pain in his voice could kill you but you have to try your best to stay strong. But, even if you are staying strong you can't leave him as the only one being vulnerable here, it just wouldn't be fair.

"I think… I think that I'll always be yours, you have my heart, Ji." That was the push that broke the dam for him. You listen helplessly as he sobs into his hands on the other line. You sit quietly trying not to succumb to your heavy emotions as well. The all too familiar silence swallows you both until your emotions seem to calm down a bit and all that's left is the sound of light panting and deep breaths every now and then.

"Do you remember when I came to visit you and I took you to the carnival?" A grin tugs at your lips as you shake your head.

"Yeah, I do, we got on the Ferris wheel because you swore you could handle it but you freaked out the second we started moving." You both chuckle lightly at the memory.

"It was terrifying but… when we got to the top and I looked at you.. and I watched you marvel at the view and that smile on your face when you pointed to the sunset…" He got quiet for a second as he recalled the memory. You could imagine a ghost of a smile across his lips.

"When I saw you looking like that… looking so beautiful, so breathtaking… I wasn't scared anymore, y/n." Now it was your turn to cry. The hand that was over your heart was now over your mouth as you tried your best to muffle your sobs. You knew it was no use, you knew that Han could tell that you were crying but you couldn't help yourself. You wanted to be strong for him.

"I kissed you on top of that Ferris wheel while the sun kissed the horizon and it was then that I knew that I love you."

"That was the first time you said it too." You manage to choke out through your small sobs. "I was so happy."

"I smiled for weeks after that. How could I not? You loved me.. I just.." The smile in his voice faded as reality hit him again. "I just wish that you would love me like that again."

"Han Jisung, I do love you… I love you with all of my heart but this relationship is going to hurt us way more than it is now if we don't take off our rose colored glasses and look at the reality of it all."

Han sighed in defeat, he knew you were right. The two of you weren't doing well with the distance and the dating rumors that social media constantly pushed out was not helping at all. They shipped Han with everyone they could think of which did horrible things for both your anxiety and his. You'd fight over pointless things and though you always made up you'd be fighting again a week later and it became a cycle that you two just couldn't seem to escape from. The last thing that you wanted to do was leave him but this just wasn't how your relationship was meant to go.

"You're my heart, you know? You always will be."

"You're my heart too, Ji."

"When I come to the states… Could I visit you?" He was shy to ask but he had to know if he could see you. It's all he ever wanted to do anyway, he always wanted to be around you. Hugging you, kissing you, cuddling you, and you used to love every second of it.

"You're always welcome here, Ji." You can nearly hear the smile that paints his face.

"And you're always welcome here, y/n… next time you come to Korea I'll show you all of the places I never got to show you while we were together… is that okay with you?" You smiled a sad smile 'while we were together' this is really over, huh?

"Sounds like a plan, Ji." Just as Han is about to reply you hear Changbin calling for him in the background and Han lets out a deep sigh. "Gotta go?"

"Yeah… we have promotions to do." His voice is sad again, small and distant.

"Can you promise that you'll take care of yourself, Ji… for me." Your voice is hopeful and pleading, something that Han can't seem to resist.

"For you, I'd do anything… So yeah, I promise." The silence came back to you both as you tried to figure out how to say goodbye.

"Well… I'll see you around, good luck."

"See you around, y/n.." Neither of you hung up for a couple of seconds, both wanting the other to say one last word. To hear one last breath escape their lips. Neither of you wanted to let go but you knew you had to. Just as you were about to hang up you heard Han's whispered words followed by the call ending. Tears welled up in your eyes once again as his words echoed through your head.

I love you, y/n

[nectardaddy]

'88 Ford | Kita Shinsuke

chapter ten | a crime of passion

masterlist

ignore timestamps

track ten. . . beneath oak trees

spinoff -> serendipity , a soon to be collection of random situations and insanity between kitayn because I'm too in love with them to let them go

cw/notes: hurt/comfort (I'm sorry yall I have no excuses anymore but it works), good but intense feelings, kita is the sappiest man alive™, this is the last chapter before the epilogue :'), dylan gossett is carrying this fic I love his music, IT'S HAPPENING IT'S HAPPENING!!!, ignore typos if you see them I was so excited

Dusk was quickly approaching, the sound of crickets being the tell tale sign before the sun dared dip below the horizon. The pair finding themselves within the acres of rice, mud and dead crops crunching underneath each step they took. Walking aimlessly, as it seemed like the right thing to do, side by side; contrary to how the man usually walked behind her.

She felt his fingers brush against her own, calloused and warm, as she walked next to him. The sensation making her feel like a little girl again, nervous and jittery, for once in her life not knowing what to do. Anger couldn't take a foothold here, the interaction making her heart swell instead of burn in fury. A fire that subsided long ago, now left with embers and a swirling stomach - he noticed.

He took her hand. Interlocking their fingers together without a word and a crimson driving to his cheeks he hoped the sunset would hide. A boldness in the motion that almost made him nauseous if he thought about it too long, shoving down the nerves to the very pits of his mind. He was terrified.

"You meant it, right?" She blurted out the question amidst the sound of crickets and evening air, almost breathless as she looked over to him in worry. An anxiety washing over her as she thought back to the interaction only an hour ago; realization of how interrogatory she was hitting her in the chest and shoving her down.

"Lovin' you?" Her question made him falter, stopping his steps to look over to her with a small frown pulling at his lips. There was a gentle pull on her hand, not noticing he had stopped and tried to keep going. Halting when there was tension and looking back at him, taking a small breath when she did. There's no way I deserve a man like this. The handsome man with pretty brown eyes. A golden hue from the sun set cascading down him that made him seem almost ethereal, contrasting his dirt ridden appearance. She felt herself fall in love with the man all over again. "I don't think I've ever been so certain about something in my whole life."

Oh my god. She felt her breath leave her lungs at his words, locking eyes with him without a word and letting the statement process. Letting a moment of development rock her to her core and leave her at a lack of words. All she could do was squeeze his hand, grasping it with all she had in her to fight the lump she felt forming in her throat; her other hand reaching up to cover her mouth. Eyes becoming blurry as she broke eye contact with him, looking to the ground with a shaky breath hidden by her palm.

Dammit, why am I crying? I look fuckin' stupid. She didn't mean for this to happen, to be so overwhelmed by emotion it caused a crack. And a crack is what make dams break. Feeling him squeeze her hand back made the dam completely collapse in on itself. Hot tears slipping down her cheeks as she stared at the ground, if she looked up she would unravel wholeheartedly.

The man didn't say a word to her disposition, knowing full well if he did her anger would take its place. So he stayed silent - she needed this moment. Silent as he squeezed her hand once more for good measure, silent as he gently pulled her towards him. Not a singular word as he wrapped his arms around her, hugging her tightly and promising himself he'd never let go. He couldn't let go if he tried, his heart decided right then and there he didn't care if he lost his job anymore. This was an unmatched feeling he would be chasing for the rest of his days.

"I love you so much." He decided to speak after a brief pause, the evening air filled with her quiet cries. "I realized it when we were in the rain together, but I think I've been in love with you since I met you." Fuck, why would you say that to me?

She grabbed at the fabric of his shirt in desperation, grounding herself as the words made her want to spiral all together. Trying to hide the fact a sob wanted to escape her lips, she furthered herself in his chest and took a deep breath.

"Then why did you avoid me, Shinsuke?" Shakey, murmured words left her throat. The whole interaction left him in awe. "Why did you ignore me even though you love me? Why did you tell me everythin' about me was important to you and run away?" His shoulders slumped and he felt his heart shatter, millions of tiny pieces promoting an onslaught of regret to hit him square in the face.

"Because I'm an idiot," a breathless response, one that was the first thing to come to mind. He sighed. "And I was scared."

"I scare you that much?"

"No." He shook his head and sighed once more, closing his eyes in shame. "I like your righteous anger, it's your dad I was afraid of. 'Thought I'd lose my job."

She loosened her vice like hold on his shirt at his words, his latter statement tying up loose ends of her confusion. Oh, jesus fucking christ, he's serious. There was another pause, crickets chirping louder as the sun began to drift below the horizon - until she laughed. A sad, sorrowful laugh that cut through the tension like a knife. He felt it. Felt her lungs regain air they desperately needed as she took a deep breath, only to laugh again. Lifting her head from his chest to show him tear stained cheeks, a black eye, and a sad grin.

"You are a fuckin' idiot," spoken between giggles that left him confused. Scrunching his brows, dumbfounded, until she opened her eyes to look at him. "My dad knows! He's the one that told me you were in love with me, you moron!" Another laugh, turning into a fit of giggles as she couldn't help herself but to watch his confusion turn to embarrassment.

"What?"

She couldn't contain her amusement, finding herself holding onto him to keep herself upright in fear of toppling over from laughter. "Shinsuke-" she gasped between chuckles, "oh my god y'really are too good for this world! My dad knew the whole time! I told him I loved you and he said he already knew!" More laughter, to which he finally joined in at his own idiocy. Thinking to himself he'd rather laugh than to feel any singular ounce of regret more - this was nice. It was peaceful. Laughing in a field of rice seemed healing almost.

A laughter than died down after a short time, all smiles as she locked eyes with him. "You're so beautiful." A breathless sentence from him with a soft smile, every syllable laced with care and adoration. He looked at her as if she were the only person in the world that mattered, because to him she was.

"Even with a black eye?"

"Even with a black eye." He repeated, "how did you even get one this time?" Cautiously bringing a hand to her face, brushing over the skin of her cheek with warm fingertips. Stopping as his thumb traced over the bruised undertones on her cheekbone. He felt as she smiled, the corners of her eyes creasing as her lips pulled upward. Felt as her cheeks increasingly became warmer from his words and his touch. Felt himself fall deeper and deeper in love with her as every second passed.

"A crime of passion." She rolled her eyes before meeting his once more. Absentmindedly leaning into his touch, making him chuckle. "And y'say 'this time' like a bad thing."

"Never," he shook his head. "They always deserve it."

His hand never left her cheek, to him it felt like a crime to pull away. Vowing right then and there to never, ever pull away from her again as long as he lived - he'd rather die than run away from her again. "You're doing an awful good job of suckin' up to me right now."

"Good. That's what I was goin' for."

Another moment of silence striking them, looking to one another with anticipation. A silly feeling swirling in her stomach as she watched brown eyes flicker in between her own. She couldn't help but let out chuckle. "Just kiss me, you idiot."

"Anything for you." Finally closing the gap between them. She melted right into the palm on his hand.

taglist (open for serendipity! ask to be added)

@wyrcan @chizunata @seroh @chemiru @froyaoya

@h3xi2g0n3 @localgaytrainwreck @mollyrolls @causenessus @diorzs

@rory-cakes @phoenix-eclipses @pattys-got-cakes @girlkissersco

@jaynawayna @aliensstolemyheart @le000xxgrd @cherrypieyourface @theycallmenanamisgirl

@softpia

[noisycroissant]

As You Wish

Astarion x Female Tav

It had been six months of domesticity. Six months spent setting up a home in the Underdark, teaching wayward, borderline feral vampire spawn to be "human" again. Six months of organising books and scrolls and knick-knacks pilfered along your travels.

The first six months of peace Astarion had known in two centuries.

And then the letter had come and everything changed.

********

He'd sensed something was wrong on their journey back from the get-together. He could feel Tav's brain churning, the cogs and wheels that made her brain so brilliant turning and spinning with anxiety.

The dread in his belly bloomed the longer she said nothing was wrong.

Of course everything was wrong. It was him, wasn't it? Six months she'd been cloistered away and now she'd seen the others and he'd bet his best set of lock-picking tools that that wizard had somehow succeeded in charming his way into her heart.

He hated himself for thinking the last part. Tav wouldn't. Not his beloved Tav. Tav promised to love him and be loved by him forever. He shouldn't think so lowly about her.

But then why in god's name does she seem miles away from him?

*******

Astarion knew that she wasn't reading. Sure the book was open, her fingers held the next page ready, but she'd been staring at the same paragraph for the last ten minutes.

She'd been holed up in her study since they'd returned. It was the first time in the two days since they'd been back that he'd been able to coax her into coming to bed with him.

This had to end. So he decided to do something he'd promised himself he'd never do again.

He gently kissed her shoulder, "Tav?"

Another kiss. And another, moving to her neck. "Taav..." he whispers, grazing the shell of her ear with a sharp fang, "Sweetheart, I've been so lonely..."

"Mmhm, yes dear, give me a moment, I'll be right with you," says Tav as she moves to sit up.

And the dam fucking burst in his chest.

He jumps up and kneels in front of Tav, grabbing her hands, tears filling his deep-set eyes, anger stopping them from spilling over.

"What did I do?! Tell me what I did! Please!! I'm sorry. Whatever it was that I did, I'm so sorry."

Tav's face changes from surprise to confusion to realisation.

"Oh? OH! Oh sweetheart," she says, hugging him, bringing his head to her chest, "You've done nothing wrong. Oh my dearest, I'm so sorry... I've been mulling over something, I never knew I was hurting you! Astarion, my darling, I'm sorry I let you think you did something to hurt me. Won't you forgive me?" Tav presses kisses into his soft hair while hugging him tighter.

The relief that washed over him was indescribable. He hadn't done anything. Of course Tav would tell him if he had. They'd promised each other no more secrets. This is what trust is. He had to trust her to tell him whatever it was that was bothering her; he could take it.

"Tell me what's been bothering you. Please, Tav... I..need to know," he asks, holding her face and looking into her eyes.

*******

"So you miss travelling?"

"Not just that, Astarion. I miss it all! Not knowing where tomorrow will take us, who we're going to meet, where we'd be bunking for the night...And all the new things to learn out there. The books, the scrolls, the secret chambers under some shady tavern!"

"Next you'll tell me you miss eating four apples and stale toast for dinner," Astarion deadpans, moving to hold Tav closer under the quilts.

"I sort of do actually," Tav replies sheepishly.

"What I cannot understand is why? Look what we have, Tav. A home. A spawn family of sorts."

Tav strokes his cheek as she replies, "Before the tadpole...before you...my life was so.. plain. Just reading and taking notes and helping with experiments in that stuffy tower. The occassional trip to Candlekeep. And then everything happened. You happened. I cannot stop thinking how it would be if it were just us going on our own adventure. What would we find? Who would we help? What would we learn?"

"What shiny things would we steal?" Astarion offers helpfully.

"Of course! I mean...we do need to get by. Can't carry all our money around and risk getting mugged," Tav shoots back, a glint in her eye.

"As if anyone could mug us," Astarion scoffs.

"Do you remember our first time? Down by that clearing near the Grove?"

"You mean your first time," Astarion corrects you saucily.

"Oh hush! I remember looking up at you, you hair contrasted with the dark sky, all those stars like a child had flung sugar. And your face. I remember thinking how beautiful the view was. How a mediocre sorcerer ended up seeing something so beautiful was beyond me."

Astarion moves to straddle Tav, his face inches away from hers, "You are anything but mediocre. You're brilliant, amazing, a genius even, dare I say it. You saved us all. You saved...me." He kisses her fiercely as if to prove his point.

******* A month later *******

Astarion watches as Tav moves above him. Sweet moans bubble up her throat as she chases her release, her hands gripping his shoulders harder the closer she gets. He sucks a finger and moves it to her clit, gently circling it, and watches as his beloved comes undone.

Her beautiful face in contrast to the dark sky and sugar-flung stars.

"That is a sight to remember," he murmurs to himself as he holds Tav closely, listening to her heart beat for him.

[unabridged-melancholies]

10:00AM: did you drink the night before? pride swells in my chest, just two drinks. his brow furrowed. she is unmoved.

11:00AM: i wish i could’ve drank more. the pitcher that never emptied, ironic. the poetic, canonical symbolisms i have passed onto myself.

12:00PM: bold rock, drink one for them, hour three for me. i told him that i’ll give myself a month, to stop punishing myself, let the chemicals in my brain do the best they can a sinking feeling in my chest; it’s going to be an ongoing turmoil.

1:00PM: i download an app for this temporary sobriety, temporary, this and that. temporary self, and him, and you and them.

2:00PM: exhaustion returns, she never left she just chooses something other than sweatpants and a hoodie.

3:00PM: what if you —- ———— tonight, it’s not in your own bed after all, what if you died. would that make it easier?

4:00PM: anxiety rises, i find— i find. i am empty, and it is better to overflow than the nothingness.

5:00: bubbles, they rose to the surface, what about me then? what rises, what sinks, plunk— ice, stones, glass. plunk, water from a tapping foist. five o’clock somewhere, and everywhere. shots of water, juice, tea. shots until the first dam breaks, and reparations are too much. it is only june, lovely.

𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐞, 𝟔𝟔𝟔, 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐬. (6. 18. 21)

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p. 4.0

note: p4 has been officially split in half!! part 4.5 coming soon!

pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader (rlly fem like you are v girly)

summary: you’ve won the life lottery as one of the few people on earth with parents who gained admittance to the most prestigous safezone in the world after the outbreak. but after a lab accident sends you out to jackson, wyoming, real life hits you fast. it’s a good thing that a hot lesbian finds u. (lol). mean ellie at first, slowburn, enemies to friends to lovers, fem reader asf

warnings: smut! read at your own risk! angst, miscommunication, ellie is still an asshole. explicit language. reader is a nervous wreck and overthinks like crazy

a/n: first of all i’m so sorry for making u guys wait! i was thinking about just holding out until i had the entirety of this part done, but part 3′s cliffhanger was brutal and i couldn’t make you guys wait any longer. some notes: this will ultimately be a hea! i promise! that being said, ellie is kind of awful in this part and i promise this will all be explained and resolved in the coming part(s)—there’s a reason why she’s being so silly goofy! (also this is the first time i’ve ever written smut so i’m sorry if it’s not that good Lfdjaklfjds)

wc: 4.7k

here’s a playlist inspired by exoplanet!

part 1

part 2

part 3

tags! @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @parkersmyth @pinkazelma 

@ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland​ 

“Come here, then.” 

You froze as her words processed in your head. You hadn’t expected her to react positively. She wasn’t supposed to react like that. She was supposed to awkwardly scratch the back of her neck and tell you that, wow, that was really sweet, but she wasn’t really ready for anything, and you weren’t really her type. Except that was the Terranovian way to reject someone. Maybe it would’ve been a more realistic expectation to assume that Ellie would laugh at you, or maybe tell you to fuck off. 

She wasn’t supposed to tell you to come closer.

But she was waiting for you now, so you pushed the thoughts aside and shifted your weight forward, pulling your legs under you so you were balancing on your knees.

You hovered over her, the heels of your palms growing numb from holding you up.

“Do you need a written invitation or something?” she said once you’d stared down at her for a little too long. Her voice was softer, with a teasing edge. 

“Don’t be mean,” you said, blushing wildly. “I’m getting my nerve up. Give me a minute.” 

“You’re the weirdest girl I’ve ever met.”

“And you’re being remarkably unhelpful.” You weren’t sure why she was making you do all the work. You were getting steadily more flustered, your pulse rising and your heart crawling into your throat the longer you looked down at her.

She liked that, you realized with a start. She liked seeing you turn into a nervous wreck because of her, even if it meant waiting.

“Change your mind or something?” 

You shook your head. 

“So come kiss me.” It was barely a whisper, so quiet that you wouldn’t have heard it had you not been leaning over her. 

One of her hands shakily raised to brush a rogue piece of your hair behind your ear. Her touch lingered. Her fingers opened to glide through your hair, halting at the nape of your neck.

You shut your eyes and dipped your head. 

It was an innocent, tiny kiss, your closed lips barely brushing before you pulled back to gauge her reaction.

But before you could fully open your eyes, the hand that was cradling your neck pulled you back down. 

It was like a dam had broken. Your nervousness and anxiety about what you were doing—kissing your friend—faded into the background as your thoughts instead turned to the fingers tangled into your hair and the wet heat of her mouth against yours. 

Your hand splayed out on the pillow next to her head, balancing you as you dipped lower, tilted your head, and let her pry your lips open. The hand that wasn’t threaded through your hair slid up your shirt, running up your back and coming to rest between your shoulder blades, a pleasant, warm weight.

Slowly, you pressed into your hands and tried to maneuver your legs so that you were straddling her instead of doing that goofy kneeling position at her side, but one of your arms gave out and you pitched forward, accidentally knocking her teeth with yours. 

“Sorry!” you said quickly, pulling away and feeling horrified as you sat back on her thighs. 

Ellie just laughed. “It’s fine. That was pretty ambitious of you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Your arms are scrawny,” she said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t think you were going to last long up there anyway. No offense.”

“You don’t get to just say the foulest things to me and expect me not to be mad because you threw in a ‘no offense’,” you retorted. “And, for the record, my arms aren’t scrawny. I’m just genetically predisposed to be lean and have low muscle mass.” 

“Just—shut up,” she said. “Don’t you ever say something like ‘genetically predisposed’ in my bed again. That’s so stupid.” 

“You’re—”

She cut you off. “You can tell me all about how mean I am to you later. Now switch with me.” 

She flicked your elbow to emphasize her point, extracting her hand from under your shirt as she waited for you to get off her and lie down on the pillow.

You frowned as you flopped onto your back, feeling like you’d been demoted. You would have been fine. You could have done it—maybe not for long, but for a bit. You’d done it before. Fuck this shit. Also, if this was going the way you thought it was, you wanted to go first, not her.

But your frustration didn’t last for long, as when Ellie straddled you, gathered you up, and kissed you again, your mind went completely blank.

Things felt a little different with Ellie on top—like you were moving with more direction. Your kisses had long since turned sloppy, your hands twisted in the back of her shirt as you pulled her closer, closer, trying to drink her in.

The tips of her fingers were calloused, pleasantly rough against your skin as one hand ran up and down your side, careful to avoid the stitches. 

You heard her shift, but given that your eyes were closed and her tongue was in your mouth, you didn't bother to consider why. Then a hand wrapped around the non-stitched side of your waist and pulled you down the mattress until something hit the apex of your thighs, and you couldn’t stop that gasp that left your mouth.

The knee thing. Oh, my god, the knee thing. She was doing the knee thing. She was going to be the death of you. 

Ellie paused, your lips making an audible noise as they separated. You could see a sheen of wetness on her mouth. 

“Okay?” she whispered.

You nodded, but any pretense of appearing mentally present disintegrated as the hand on your waist tightened, rolling you roughly against her knee. 

The sound that left your lips was honestly and objectively very embarrassing—something between a yelp and a strangled gasp—but you decided to think about it later as Ellie leaned back down, her mouth pressing to your jaw and dragging down to your throat.

You keened, rocking down onto her as she passed over the sensitive part of your neck. She paused, her lips freezing before she sucked at the same spot again, this time slower and with more deliberation. 

You were a mess. All she’d done was kiss you and let you grind against her thigh with multiple layers of separation, and you were already falling apart underneath her, your hands desperately tangled in her shirt and your breathing frantic. 

Once her lips had trailed down to the curve where your shoulder met your neck, you tentatively fingered the hem of her shirt and began to pull it up. 

Wordlessly, she sat back and let you drag her shirt up, helping you once you got to her arms. 

“What?” she said once she’d gotten her head through the neckhole and tossed it off to the side.

Your mouth had been hanging open, so you shut it before you responded. “Uh. Nothing. You’re just—really pretty.” 

“Really pretty,” Ellie repeated drolly.

You covered your face with your hands. “What? Is that a crime?”

“Isn’t it?” said Ellie. 

You peeked through the gaps in your fingers. There was a smirk pulling at her lips.

“In Terranova,” she elaborated. “It is a crime, right?” 

“Oh, Christ. Can we not talk about that now?” 

She laughed.

Her fingers closed around your wrists, pulling them away from your face so you had to look at her dead-on. She leaned down, her lips brushing your pulse point.

“I’m just teasing,” she whispered into your ear, and you felt the sheets at the bottom of the bed bunch up as your toes curled. 

She kissed you again, her mouth parted and soft. Your hands wandered up and down her bare skin, pausing where you heard her gasp and dragging your thumbs across the peaks of her chest until her breath hitched.

It didn’t take long until she’d helped you out of the loose t-shirt she’d given you when you’d arrived, her warm hands a welcome respite from the cool night air. 

Then you felt the waistband of your shorts tighten, her fingers dipping briefly under the elastic. 

“Do you want me to—”

“Yes.” Your voice was breathy. 

“Sheesh,” said Ellie, though at the same time she was pulling them down your thighs. “Eager much?”

“I’ll leave,” you warned.

It was an empty threat. 

“Yeah, yeah,” said Ellie. “I’ll make it up to you if you’re so offended.” 

Her hand nudged between your legs, fingers rolling languidly up the middle of your clothed center.

“Oh god,” you whined, no longer caring about the magnitude of your reaction in regards to what she was doing to you. 

Your hands shot out to haphazardly grip the sheets as you felt your panties get pushed aside. Ellie’s knuckles slid down your folds, making a lewd wet sound from all of the slickness as she separated them. 

When you finally opened your eyes, you could see Ellie intensely studying you, her eyes cast down to where she was touching you as her teeth pulled at her bottom lip. 

You wanted to feel self-conscious. After all, it had been forever since you’d been touched like this, and to have it be done by someone you were so anxious to impress only added insult to injury. But your mind was so clouded with want and desperation that you couldn’t even bring yourself to want to close your legs, no matter how closely she seemed to be examining you. 

Something prodded at your entrance. Your legs tensed.

Ellie paused. “Alright?”

You bit your lip and nodded, shutting your eyes. 

The prodding morphed into a stretching sensation as something entered you, your walls seizing up and tensing as you sharply inhaled. 

“You could try relaxing,” Ellie whispered casually, like her finger wasn’t actively inside of you. “Just a suggestion.” 

“You could try not being an assho—”

Ellie’s thumb swiped across your clit, cutting you off as an involuntary gasp left your throat. 

“Oh, sorry,” she deadpanned. “Were you saying something?”

You sent her a withering glare as she smirked back. Your resolve didn’t hold long, as once her finger withdrew and plunged deeper into you, you were long gone. 

It wasn’t long until one finger became two, scissoring in and out of you while you writhed beneath her and keened over and over again. The room was silent apart from the obscenely wet sounds emanating from between your legs and your whimpers.

As you felt tension begin to pool inside of you like a rubber band about to snap, you pushed yourself up on your elbows, looking down the bed at Ellie.

She was biting her lip in concentration as she worked her fingers in and out of you. Her eyes snapped up to meet yours just as she hooked her fingers inside of you, pulling a high moan from your lips.

“There?” Her voice was low and slightly raspy. 

You nodded helplessly, feeling her pull her fingers out and thrust them in again, angling them just so to brush up against the front of your walls. 

Your head flopped back on the pillow, your mouth falling open as you gasped. You were almost there. You just needed—you weren’t sure exactly what you needed.

“Please,” you managed to stutter out, not clear on what you were asking her for.

But as you felt her press on your clit and rub a tight circle, you realized that Ellie knew exactly what you wanted. 

The rubber band snapped, a white-hot ball in your middle bursting and sending a tremor through your whole body.

You came down with a gasp of air, feeling your walls spasm around Ellie’s fingers once, twice, thrice—until you lost count. 

There was a tug between your legs, and you heard the squelch of her pulling out. You clenched around nothing, tiredly noting how strange it was to be empty again.

Ellie’s head dropped to kiss your shoulder, carefully avoiding your injured side even as she pressed her weight on top of you.

“You okay?” she asked once she’d sat back up. You didn’t miss the way she wiped her fingers on her shorts. 

“Yeah,” you breathed, feeling reason and rationality begin to trickle back into your consciousness. Oh God. What had you done? 

She didn’t say anything as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed, leaning down to retrieve her shirt.

Oh God. You hadn’t just made out with your friend. You’d let her finger you. You’d come apart under her and now you were going to have to eat breakfast and go on patrol and talk to her for the indefinite future knowing that she knew what it felt like to be inside you.

Horror built slowly within you as the implications mounted. You never slept with anyone without clearly defining the boundaries first. You’d never just…lost control, like you just had.

Ellie was standing up, pulling on her shirt and blissfully unaware of your overthinking spiral. Slowly, awkwardly, you reached down and pulled your shorts back up, trying your best to ignore the mess that was between your legs. 

Something landed atop your chest, making you jump. It was your top, helpfully tossed by Ellie from the floor. 

Nausea began to build in your stomach as you quickly redressed, head spinning. Would you get to have your defining conversation now? Did Ellie want to define what you were? Was she going to let you sleep over? You really, really wanted to, but you didn’t know how to ask.

She finished fussing with her shirt and turned back to you, seeing you sat on the edge of the bed.

In a stroke of courage, you caught her hand, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her palm. You heard her breath stutter before you released it, letting it fall. 

It felt like a confession. One that went beyond just “thinking” about someone. 

“I didn’t know you thought of me like that.” Your voice was hoarse, tired from what you’d just put it through. 

“How could I not?” There was something in the rawness of how she spoke that made your heart lurch. 

“Since…since when?” 

You waited a few moments before amending it. “I—actually, don’t feel like you need to say so.” 

Ellie shrugged, joining you on the edge. “You first.”

“Since…” Since the first night you wanted to say, but you couldn’t make the words come out. That felt too vulnerable, especially when you weren’t sure what you two were yet. That might be too much. “It’s been a while,” you settled on as a vague compromise. 

Ellie nudged the edge of your foot with hers. “I figured. You spend all of your time gawking at me.”

“I do not.” 

She raised an eyebrow. 

“Okay,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Maybe a little. But I was very subtle about it.” 

“Yes, very,” Ellie agreed, nodding gravely. “Didn’t even notice.” 

There were so many things that you wanted to ask her—you wanted to turn the question back to her, you wanted to ask if you could sleep over, you wanted to ask what this meant—but the heavy silence of the room was too thick to speak through. 

“I’m, uh, I think I’m going to go to bed,” Ellie said, scratching the back of her neck uncomfortably. 

“Oh, right,” you responded. “It’s late. Me too.”

It was in fact not that late—you and Ellie had stayed up much later on prior evenings.

“Uh—sleep well,” she said, turning to you. 

An acute pang of hurt twanged in your chest as you realized what she was implying. 

“You too,” you said softly, reaching over to unplug your laptop and grab the charger. Your knees cracked comically loudly as you stood up, but neither of you reacted to it. 

You stole one last glance at her once you’d made it to the doorway. She was watching you, her chin resting on the palm that was propped up by her elbow. “Goodnight,” you said, trying your best to hide the hurt in your voice.

“Goodnight.” 

The walk to your room was short enough that you managed to keep it together until you’d slipped inside and shut the door tight. Then the tears pricking at your eyes began to fall, your back sliding against the door as you fell into a ball. 

It felt stupid to be crying over the fact that you’d had a hookup that hadn’t turned into a passionate love confession and the opportunity to fall asleep in her arms. You and Ellie were so different—there was no reason to believe that she wanted you on any level that wasn’t physical. Maybe she was one of those people who could have sex just based on attraction without it meaning anything. 

And to be upset because she hadn’t cuddled you afterwards or complimented your body or played with your hair or anything—ridiculous. There was no reason to believe that Ellie would suddenly stop being Ellie—sardonic, emotionally detached, asshole Ellie—just because you were in her bed. She’d done nothing wrong except be the person that she’d shown you she was many times over.

You knew this—you knew all of this, but it wasn’t enough to console you. You still wanted her. You still wanted more. You yearned to be touched by her, not just the rough caresses that pulled you over the edge, but the ones that you were expecting had she let you stay the night. 

A while passed as you sat crumpled on the floor, knees pulled to your chest and shoulders heaving. By the time you’d gathered the strength to get up and pee (you highly doubted they had cranberry juice out here, and contracting a UTI on top of everything else was going to be enough to make you jump over the wall banging pots and pans until every infected came to check you out), you were sufficiently cried out, feeling rather like a wrung out washcloth. 

It hadn’t been all bad, you thought to yourself as you splashed your face and washed your hands in the warm light of the bathroom. As long as this hadn’t permanently ruined the friendship between you two, you’d maybe consider doing it again. Despite the emotional turmoil and overall lack of intimacy, it had been nice. In the moment. Next time—if there was one—you’d just lower your expectations. 

Some Ellie was better than No Ellie. 

Yeah. 

You could do that. 

~

“We’re in a fight.” 

The words made you jump a foot in the air, nearly pitching you forward on the sidewalk as you were heading to the stables to help Maria out. 

“Dina!” you exclaimed.

She was frowning at you, her arms tightly crossed.

“Is there a reason we’re fighting?” you asked. 

“You promised you’d come hang out with me,” she said, jutting her chin out. “And where have you been? Not at mine.” 

“I’m sorry,” you said, heat rising to your cheeks. In truth, you’d been so caught up with your Ellie obsession that you’d forgotten about Dina. 

“I guess it’s not totally your fault,” Dina conceded, waving a hand. “I keep telling Ellie to stop being so greedy, keeping you all to herself like that.”

“It’s all been so much.” Your stomach dropped at the mention of Ellie, whom you had exchanged very brief pleasantries with that morning. Or, as pleasant as Ellie’s “pleasantries” could be. 

“How about you tell me about it?” pressed Dina, her lips lifted into a smile. “Come over? After you’re done with whatever you’re doing? I’m off today, so I’m yours whenever.”

You sent her a grateful smile back. “Sure.” 

Your work with Maria finished up quickly—mostly cleaning and polishing the saddles and washing the bits. Before you knew it, you were sitting on Dina’s couch, your feet pulled up under you as you held a mug of hot tea.

Dina wanted to know everything about Terranova—a welcome change from Ellie, who only sparingly asked you about what your life was like. Her bubbliness made you so at ease that you found yourself telling her things that you’d never said out loud before.

“And that’s when I decided that I’m definitely not straight,” you finished.

She giggled and set her mug down on the table between you, leaning forward and giving you a look full of mirth. “You know, speaking of that…”

“Oh?”

“You know Ellie’s into girls too, right?” 

You froze, your smile plastered artificially on your face. The memories of her fingers between your legs last night drifted back, and you shut them down before they lingered for too long. 

“Uh, yeah,” you said lamely. 

“Interesting.” Dina nodded, her eyes unfocused. “Have you two—I dunno—talked about that?”

“Just a little,” you said, shrugging. It wasn’t a lie. It’s not like you two had extensive conversations about the general queer experience on the regular. And her fingering you didn’t involve much talking. 

“Well, I think you should go for it,” announced Dina. 

You choked on your tea. “Huh?” 

“I know she can be an asshole sometimes,” said Dina, making a face. “But I’m definitely picking up on something between you two. I think she really likes you.” 

“She—” You cringed, thinking of how she’d essentially kicked you out the night before. “I don’t really think she does.”

“But you do,” said Dina, her eyes sparkling. “Just tell her.” 

“There’s nothing there,” you said vaguely. 

Dina gave you a long, suspicious look. “Right. If anything changes, you know you can tell me, right?”

You wanted to tell her about what had happened last night so, so badly. But it felt like you’d be crossing a line, talking to someone you’d essentially just met before discussing it more thoroughly with Ellie. 

“Of course,” you said, willing yourself to send her a convincing smile. 

~

Dinner proceeded as normal, with you making casual conversation with Ellie and Joel. Though you two were sitting next to each other, there was no foot-kicking or thigh touches. 

Not that you should’ve expected anything, you thought, scolding yourself. Just because someone fingered you once doesn’t mean they were in love with you. You didn’t call yourself a chef after cooking one meal. 

That night, you lay awake after your shower, feeling your freshly washed hair dampen the edges of your shirt as you started up at the ceiling. Ellie normally knocked by now—hours earlier, in fact. She wasn’t coming. 

You rolled over, pulling your comforter up and trying not to cry again. Silly, stupid you. You’d gone and ruined it all just for someone who didn’t like you very much, She’d purposefully evaded the question of you asking when she’d seen you like that, you realized. This was probably more opportunistic than anything. 

She was all you had here. Of course, you had Dina and Joel and Maria and Jesse, but they were nowhere near the same as Ellie. Ellie had been the one to save you. Ellie had been the one to console you after your first patrol. Ellie had been the one to card through your hair while you were shaking and in shock from being shot. No matter what they did, you would never feel as pulled to them as you were her. 

There was a knock at your door. 

You paled, then brought your hand up to frantically wipe away at the wetness forming at the corners of your eyes. 

Quietly, as not to wake up Joel, you crept over to the door and opened it.

“Hey,” whispered Ellie.

“Hey.” 

She swallowed, looking down the hall before she met your eyes. “Are you—are you busy?”

“It’s 11 o’ clock at night,” you whispered. “My schedule’s not exactly booked.” 

“Right.” She let out an exasperated sigh. “Do you, uh, want to see me for a bit?”

You gulped, feeling stuck in place. Was this all it was ever going to be? A midnight rendezvous that ended with you doing a walk of shame down the hall? 

“Your room or mine?” you asked, folding regardless of your angst.

Ellie blinked. “Uh. Mine? It’s further from—um, there’s more walls in between mine and Joel’s.”

For a moment as you walked alongside her down the hall, you wondered how you’d ever feel comfortable undressing and touching her again, given how awkwardly you two were interacting now.

But once she shut the door and wasted no time in clutching your jaw between her two hands like she was praying and kissing you like she wanted to drown in you, those worries slipped away.

It was much like last time. Ellie didn’t even give you the chance to get on top—you were tossed onto her bed and caged under her arms before you could even think to take control. 

She pushed you over the edge twice with her fingers, this time mouthing at your jaw as you writhed beneath her.

When you came down, you laid panting on her bed, watching the spots in your vision dissipate as Ellie rested on the pillow beside you. Tentatively, you turned so your nose pressed into her jaw, your lips pressing light kisses to her neck.

She shivered, but didn’t push you off.

You took the opportunity to drag your fingers up and down her bare arm, feeling the pads of your fingers catch on the texture of her skin.

Even in the dark, you could see faded marks scattered all over the pale expanse of her skin. Next to her, your skin looked pristine, untouched, like a doll just taken out of the box. 

There was a sting deep inside your chest.

“You’re such a good person,” you heard yourself say. “You didn’t deserve any of this.”

Ellie tensed under you. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m just—” You paused, thinking about how ridiculous you sounded. This was a hookup. Why were you getting all sentimental on her? “I wish that you didn’t have to go through everything that you have. You’re—you’re just so—”

She sat up abruptly, pushing you off her.

“I’m not ‘a good person’,” she said, her voice quiet. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You have no idea what I’ve done.”

You shrugged. “Maybe not. But I know you now. You’ve been so kind to me. I’ve known people who have grown up with silver spoons in their mouths for all their life who are much crueler than you’ve ever been.”

When Ellie was silent, you took the opportunity to reach up and let your fingers trace over her cheekbones, watching the constellations of freckles under your touch. You wanted to memorize everything about her. You never wanted to stop touching her. 

“What are you doing.” It came out in a flat, tired tone.

You tried to hide the way your face fell as you retracted your hand. Right. Hookup. You needed to remember.

“Sorry,” you said, gluing your eyes to your hands. 

“This isn’t…” Ellie paused, and you saw her curl her hands into fists. “This isn’t like that, okay?”

“I know,” you said, but the confirmation of the fact sent a pain so acute through your chest that it was all you could do to not wince. “But we’re friends, right?” But you still care about me, right? was what you really wanted to say. That would do as a poor substitution. 

You could feel Ellie’s stare despite not even looking at her. 

“I should go.” You swung your legs over the edge of her bed, wondering how you were going to make it to your door this time without bursting into tears. 

“Wait,” said Ellie. 

“I hope you sleep well,” you continued, begging, praying that your hurt wasn’t showing as obviously as it felt.

A hand curled around your wrist as you reached the door.

“Wait.” Ellie’s voice was firm enough to make you finally look at her. Her face was stony, but you could see something in her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. “We’re—friends. We are. I’m sorry.” 

“I know,” you said lightly, plastering a little smile on your face. If you stayed in here for another minute, you’d be a sobbing mess. “It’s late, though. I need to go to bed anyway.”

She let you slip from her grip. The door behind you thudded softly shut.

That night, you curled up into a ball under your comforter, feeling your still damp hair stick to the back of your neck.

It was better than nothing, you reminded yourself. Better than nothing.

final a/n: I”M SORRY IM SORRY i know that this just complicates everything more but i’m trying to be realistic about ellie’s character...i promise i will patch things up soon! the second half of this chapter is coming out hopefully within the next few days depending on how quickly i get better from being sick! (also again i’m so sorry abt the smut i’ve never written anything like this before so i was feeling really iffy)

[syluscore]

Every Version of You (4)

A reverse harem with three variants of Leon Kennedy and feminine reader.

~ Masterlist ~ Previous Part ~ Message me if you'd like to take over this story and continue it, I will not be continuing it, my apologies~

(i struggled a lot with this part and putting it off because it's filler. it's the event that needed to happen to get from point a to point b. but i've done it so now updates should come quicker!)

WORD COUNT: 2k

SONGS: I Can't Handle Change - Roar and I Bet on Losing Dogs - Mitski

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR PART FOUR: dejecting from one's self, anxiety, crying, some comfort, thoughts of giving up, arguing, let me know if there's something else that needs to be tagged

TAGLIST: @growingupnrealizing , @weneewinnie , @delulusimps , @yoonbabe-d , @missjoenowhere , @cassiecasluciluce , @greywardensaywhat , @kennedyswhore , @british-mint-bunny , @all-mights-babygirl , @weasleytwinscumslut , @pinkrose1422 , @ir3nic-sluvv , @blue4pple , @izuoyarmin , @cosmcqt

!!!!!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!!!!!

PART "CHAPTER" FOUR

You stand, frozen in place, right in front of the giant tube that’s supposed to contain Leon. Every noise in the room sounds far away. You’re not even sure you’re really standing here right now with how unreal you feel. How disconnected you feel from yourself.

Numb. You feel numb.

Is any of this real? How can it be real? You know it’s stupid to question yourself like this. You always laughed off people who would ask dumb questions like, “Is this a dream?” Of course it’s not a dream! But now you’re questioning if this is a fucking dream. You don’t know, maybe you never knew.

You can tell the men are trying to talk to you, but you can’t seem to force yourself out of your own head. Can’t make yourself care enough to socialize with any of them. You wanna stay inside your mind’s fuzziness. It wraps you like a blanket and it’s the only solace you can seem to find.

You’ve been able to push your feelings down–to just push yourself through the motions, but it seems to be hitting you all at once now. And you’re not sure why, but you’re dreading facing Leon. And there’s no specific reason for your anxiety, maybe it’s just everything coming to the surface in the face of a conversation you don’t know how to have.

Maybe you’re dreading his reaction. 

“Hey!” you hear someone yell to get your attention as they nudge your shoulder, which finally snaps you out of your almost hypnotic state. 

Your head snaps in their direction, “Hmm? What?”

Your eyes meet older Leon’s. “Are you ready?” It’s a stupid fucking question. You and him both know it, but for some reason, you still find yourself having a hard time responding. You open your mouth several times to reply, but no sound manages to make it past your lips.

“Are you okay?” he lowers his voice to nearly a whisper.

You’re not sure why that does something to your brain–why you’re biting your lip as tears slip down your cheeks again. Why did the dam break right now? Before you can even force the tears back down, force yourself to keep it together, he’s wrapping his arms around you.

You’re limp in his grasp. Wide eyed and arms hanging at your sides. You’re stiff in his arms, unable to properly react. His chin is resting on top of your head as he presses your cheek into his chest.

You wish he’d just stop. Pull himself away from you. Read your body language and take the hint. But he doesn’t. He only clings to you tighter.

And you don’t know why, fuck, you don’t know why anything anymore, but you soften in his arms. You allow yourself to accept his embrace. And for some reason, it makes you feel somewhat calmer. As if you can finally breathe in his arms.

“It’s gonna be okay, yeah? Just breathe. You’re fine, everything is fine. I’ve got you.”

And you believe him completely. You pull your head away from his chest and look back into his eyes. 

You close your eyes, taking in a deep breath, holding it, then opening your eyes as you release it.

“That’s it. Feeling better?” He tucks your hair behind your ear and you can’t speak. You force yourself to nod. Just nodding feels like it takes all of your energy. 

You’re exhausted, utterly and undoubtedly exhausted. You could pass out while standing up if you allowed yourself to. But you know you can’t. You know you must swallow down all of the negative feelings because there’s much more pressing matters at hand. You are not what’s important right now. 

“I’m okay,” you assure Leon softly. “Let’s do this.”

“You’re sure?” He cocks an eyebrow in obvious disbelief. 

You nod your head weakly. “Like ripping a band-aid off, right?” He rubs your shoulders, but doesn’t attempt to move on. “I’m sure, Leon, please.”

He finally releases you, but not before offering up his hand. It confuses you at first, but you eventually relent and intertwine your fingers with his. You’ll take any link to ground you that you can. You’re still not fully convinced that you won’t just fade into nothingness, maybe you’d even welcome it and allow it to consume you. 

It’d be so easy to let yourself go as well, but you’re not hanging on for yourself. You’re hanging on for Leon and maybe that’s enough for you. Well, it has to be enough for you, it’s all you have to cling to.

“Okay, here we go,” Luis mumbles as he pulls the lever and the blinding light is back and somehow stronger this time. 

Before you can even reach up to cover your own eyes, someone else’s hand is covering them. Your free hand shoots up to cover the hand over your eyes. It’s obvious who it is, so you run your hand up his arm and cover his eyes with your hand. It’s not the most comfortable position, but you’re fucking greatful for it.

The light is gone and you both drop your hands, looking ahead as Leon’s drenched body is pulled from the liquid by Chris. Chris pulls Leon’s body down the ladder with the help of Luis and they lay him on the ground.

“Leon? Leon, can you hear me?” Chris speaks as Leon’s eyes flutter open and closed as he slowly wakes up. 

Leon’s eyes finally stay open and he stares up at Chris with a blank expression on his face. He slowly blinks as confusion creeps up his face.

He suddenly sits up and pushes himself to his feet, stumbling backwards away from Chris and Luis. His wet clothes cling to his body, throwing off his balance as he braces himself against the wall. 

“Leon. Calm down,” Luis tries to level with him.

He shakes his head, “Who the fuck are you?”

“Just here to help-”

“Help with what, asshole?”

Older Leon speaks up, “Well, if you’d let him explain and stop interrupting-”

“And who the fuck are you?” Leon spits out as his eyes dart to older Leon’s. He looks down at your laced fingers and then his eyes meet yours. “What’s going on?”

You pull your hand from older Leon’s and take a few steps toward Leon, “I’m not entirely sure, but everything’s okay, okay?”

“Don’t,” he puts his hand out in front of him causing you to halt your movements. “Just… stay over there.” 

You feel your face fall at the tone of his voice, talking as if he’s disgusted by you. It causes you to step backwards, your back colliding with older Leon’s chest. 

“It’s okay,” he quietly speaks into your ear, “He’s just confused right now.” You nod your head in response, because what else can you do?

Leon continues arguing with Chris and Luis, but you tone it out. You turn and look up at older Leon’s face. He brings his hand down to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb gently beneath your eye. Your eyelids instinctively close in the comfort of his gesture.

“And what the fuck is going on over there?” Leon’s raised voice brings your attention back to him. “Who the fuck is that?”

Your eyes dart between the two of them, not sure if you should tell Leon the truth. Older Leon meets your gaze and nods his head once, encouraging you to speak.

You take a deep breath before speaking, “He’s you, Leon. From the future.” 

The room is quiet as you and Leon stare at each other. His face is skeptical as he looks between you and the older man.

“You’re joking?” He huffs out and you shake your head at him. Another moment of silence passes. “What do you mean by that?”

“He’s here to save me, Leon.”

He scowls. “Why are you fucking with me right now? What’s wrong with you?”

Older Leon steps in front of you. “Don’t speak to her like that.”

“Fuck you dude-”

“Can you shut the fuck up?”

“I’m not taking this-”

“Shut the fuck up!” Older Leon yells and the room falls into a silence once again. It’s awkward. It’s fucking uncomfortable. You could cut the tension with a knife. Just any sort of cheesy phrase that could be used to describe this shit, insert that here. 

Everything feels so unnatural. How could a conversation ever flow under these conditions? In these circumstances? How are you supposed to act, supposed to talk?

“Do you want her to die?” Older Leon gestures toward you. Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes, but doesn’t answer. “Well. Do you?”

“Obviously not.”

“She will. And there won’t be anything we can do to stop it if you don’t get it together.”

“You gonna kill her?”

“No, but-”

“But nothing! You’re talking out your ass right now. I’m not doing this shit.”

“Really?” Older Leon asks in a monotone voice that has chills running down your spine. Leon nods in response, causing older Leon to suddenly snap.

He closes the gap between the two of them, grabbing Leon by his collar and pushing him towards the giant vat of liquid again.

Chris follows after them. “Leon, what are you doing?”

“I’m going to show him.”

“We don’t even know if that’ll work.”

“Don’t care.”

“Just think for a minute.”

“No.” The men fight the entire way to the top of the vat of liquid, but older Leon manages to get the younger man up there.

“Fuck,” Luis calls out as he runs to the control panel slamming down some buttons. “Okay. Okay! Be careful Leon-” He isn’t able to finish his warning before older Leon is pulling both of the men into the liquid.

“Oh my god!” You gasp out as you watch the Leon’s floating in the water, electrical currents surrounding them, looking like they’re shooting straight into them. Older Leon grips Leon by his shoulders, both their heads falling back weightlessly as they go still in the liquid. 

Water swirls all around them and you can do nothing but watch. It’s like they’re the calm in the storm, so still as a whirlpool rages on around them. 

As quickly as they entered their comatose states, they’re snapping out of it. Breaking through the top of the liquid and gasping for air. 

Older Leon pulls himself up on the platform first, offering Leon a hand that he ignores as he pulls himself out of the liquid as well. They sit on the platform in complete silence, both staring off into space.

A ringing cuts through the silence and Luis picks up a small phone sitting on the control panel. 

“Leon,” both men's attention dart to Luis, but he gestures the phone towards the younger of the two. “It’s yours.”

Leon hurries down the ladder and grabs the phone, answering quickly. “Hello?... Now?... Can it wait?...Alright, fine… Yeah, I’ll be right there.” He hangs up the phone and turns to face you. “I have to go. Urgent request by the president.”

“Be safe?” Your voice is barely above a whisper. He nods his head, scanning the room before heading for the door.

He stops dead in his tracks when he sees Rookie, who’s been standing off to the side, staying out of the way this whole time. But he quickly shakes his head and continues, slamming the door shut behind him.

You look over at Rookie and he shrugs at you. “I didn’t think seeing me would help.”

You didn’t think of it that way. Of course Leon would instantly recognize his younger self, it’s what he used to look at in the mirror every day.

“Is he gonna be okay?” You ask no one in particular. Your eyes scan the room, waiting for someone, anyone, to answer you. 

“He’ll get there,” Chris finally speaks up. “But we got work to do. We knew he’d be pulled away for that mission, so we knew he wouldn’t be around.” Chris’ hand meets your shoulder and he squeezes in an attempt to comfort you. “Get some rest. Tomorrow, we start Operation Save Your Life? Or whatever you’d like to call it.”

Chris heads out the same door Leon did and your gaze falls to the floor. You doubt you’ll be able to sleep after everything that just happened, but you’d be lying if sleep wasn’t calling out to you.

[valley-of-headcanons]

hii! could you do a headcannon for Alex's emotions and how he would react when his first child is born ?( sorry for the bad grammar, English isn't my 1st language )

alex's first child || headcanons

when faced with the birth of his first child, alex is determined to rewrite the wrong-doings of his father.

warnings: abusive dad mentions, self deprecating on alex's part, female bodied farmer with gender neutral pronouns

requested by: anon! hii, tysm for the request! this is a really cute one that i enjoyed writing a ton! alex is so underrated and his storyline breaks my heart. i love redemption arcs more than anything. anyway! hope you enjoy <3

• Alex has always wanted to have children, but he's always been extremely nervous. He knew that he was not raised in a traditional household, despite his grandparents' rather traditional views. His father was a monster, and he realized this more and more as he grew. When he got to his father's age, more and more he thought to himself: “How could you treat a child like that?”

• When he first found out that you were pregnant, he was over the moon. He was so excited to be a dad! He was going to do all the cool stuff that he never got to do as a child. He was going to play sports with this kid, take them on father-son/father-daughter dates, and love them unconditionally! All the lovely feeling of being a parent swarmed him immediately. Everything was good ... until he got in his head.

• Late night thoughts are never good. When his partner is asleep beside him, about half way through their pregnancy, Alex didn't think the bad thoughts could get to him. But they certainly can. Y'know, aren't mental issues genetic? What if having this kid uncovers some mental issues that he never knew he had? What if he fucks up, making this kid feel as worthless as he felt as a kid? What if he turns into his father?

• That man made Alex feel like a completely different person than what he actually was. The confidence, the light, the joy behind his eyes ... every single time that man popped into his mind, it seemed to be snatched away from him. What if his child feels like that about him? His father is just ... that man. That man who makes them feel like shit and laughs about it. The kind of man that leaves after the damage is done.

• His anxieties were quiet, reserved for nights when you were getting your well deserved rest. He didn't open up to you about it until a bit closer to the date, when his nerves were at an all time high. You noticed there was an uneasiness about him, which was highly unusual. His dam just ... broke. It didn't take too much of a push, and you could tell he hadn't had much sleep. He tried his best not to cry, but he couldn't help it. When it came to his father, he was a defenseless little boy.

• You took him into your arms and held him, consoling his worries. Alex knew the damage of his father, and in knowing that, he would be able to prevent those actions. He cried until he felt a bit safer, resting his head on your stomach and closing his eyes. Maybe the child in your stomach understood Alex's cries, because he felt something softly graze his cheek.

• Soon, the time came to deliver the baby. Alex rushed you to the hospital, at your side consistently. He was there for your every need. He was more focused on you and your health than his own anxiety-ridden thoughts. There was a scratch at the back of his mind, putting him a bit on edge, but that didn't matter right now. His partner was going through a terrifying major life event right now. That may be a bit more important.

• After everything was all said and done, Alex was tired. He certainly wasn't as tired as you were, but he was exhausted. He sat with you, holding your hand as the child was brought into your room for the first time. It finally hit. That's it, he's a father now. You were the first to hold them, you did all the labor after all. After you were done for a moment, you handed them off to Alex.

• That baby could fit in the palm of Alex's hand, but it was his whole world. A cute little bundle of joy, eyes barely open enough to see the world it had just been brought into. Alex then felt his own eyes begin to pour. His little buddy. He held the child close to his chest, pressing the most gentle kisses on their forehead.

• “Hey, little buddy ... I'm your dad, and I'm gonna make sure nothing's gonna happen to you ... you're so tiny! ... how could anyone wanna hurt somethin' so small ...? ... I'm gonna make sure you're taken care of, as much as I can ... I love you so much, little buddy. I promise you'll have the best life ...”