#tw: anxiety attack

[5t4r5and5uch01]

Part 4! (Final!)

THIS IS PART 4! And final part! Woo!

This took WAY longer than it should. I’m SO sorry Sleep (@nosleep83) TmT

But here it is! With a silly lil ending lol

I apologize that this came out a bit messy and sketchy. It would be impossible for me to finish it if it wasn’t- blah

Anyways! Tysm for reading! :D

Previous parts:

Part 1: (Masterpost)

Part 2:

Part 3:

#tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety attack #tmnt #mutant mayhem #tmnt mutant mayhem #tmnt mm fanart #tmnt mm fan comic #YAY finished!

[flyingwargle]

tw: beginnings of an anxiety attack midway through

the show was a disaster.

lynette thinks it’s because of sabotage. lyney thinks it’s because of him.

when he palmed the wrong card at the start of their act, he should’ve taken it as a sign that nothing else would go well. instead, his smile became wider, raised his voice louder, swept his arms in more and more elaborate gestures. the stage lights hid the audience’s faces, but he could still hear their whispers, their judgments, their disappoint. this is not what i paid for.

that’s why he refunded their tickets. it’s the least he could do.

he sends his sister home while he inspects their props. she already did it while he was talking with the ticket office, but he has to be sure that the fault lies with him. there’s no sign of tampering, and all equipment remains in its rightful positions, waiting for tricks that would never happen. they aren’t to blame – he is.

do you really call yourself a great magician?

the theater is empty. lyney sits cross-legged onstage, facing the shuttered overhead lights. it’s cold, amplified by the empty seats and corridors. he’s cloaked in darkness, with only the stars shining through the windows.

i should go back. the others will be worried.

are they, though? do they really want such a pathetic brother back?

he squeezes his eyes shut. he picks himself up, stumbles down the hallway to exit through the back door. security locked the front entrance hours ago. he couldn’t bring himself to leave among his dissatisfied patrons.

the court of fontaine is a different entity at night. whereas light makes water seem friendly, night makes it seem unforgiving. streetlamps illuminate his path, boots echoing around him. he walks with his back straight, head held high, as if walking home after a successful show, full of bravado. this is just an act, a mask to hide his turmoil, like the teardrop he paints on his cheek before every show.

he slows. the stars accompany the moon, yet no one accompanies him. he leans against the railing to peer down at the lower levels of the city. storefronts are darkened. stalls are covered with canvas. only the faintest light radiates behind closed curtains, followed by hushed voices and rustling blankets. soon, it feels like he’s the only one left awake.

that’s why only silence answers him when he curses. “dammit!”

people make mistakes. it’s natural. he doesn’t because he knows the consequences. all he’s ever known is that a single misstep can mean being thrown to the wolves, to be claimed by the darkness without a way back. as the oldest, he can’t afford wrong moves. it isn’t just him who suffers, but his brothers and sisters.

his hand sneaks up to his chest. it’s heavy. his heart is racing. his breaths are quick. stay calm…stay calm. i…have to go back. i can’t…let the others know–

“lyney?”

he jumps. when he raises his head, his vision is blurred. tears form in the corners of his eyes. why?

why did you have to find me like this?

lynette stands on his right, freminet on his left. their gestures are light across his arms as they guide him to sit down. “you were taking so long,” lynette whispers. “we were worried about you?”

what’s there to worry about? i’m fine.

“no, you aren’t. you’re always like this when a show goes badly.”

freminet nods. “it- it’s hard to keep it together all the time. you can be frustrated. we aren’t supposed to be perfect.”

i’m supposed to be. what good am i if i can’t even put on a magic show?

“it’s not just you.” a hand rests over his own to quell his trembles. “i’m onstage, too. fremmy designs our props. our brothers and sisters help make our stage costumes. you might be the one doing the sleight of hand, but we work together to make the show work.”

“a failure now means success later,” freminet adds. “we learn and we grow. that’s how it is.”

lyney draws in a shuddering breath and squeezes his eyes shut, rubbing to clear them of tears. lynette continues to hold his other hand. “it’s okay to cry.”

that’s all the permission he needs.

neither his sister nor brother speak, simply press against him as his tears flow down his cheeks. how unbecoming of him. he watched his sister cry after she was rescued from that terrible place; he watched his brother cry when he learned that his mother would never come back. he embraced them both, lent them his shoulder, murmured soothing words. it's okay. i'm here. i'll never leave you.

even if they don't do that for him, their presence is enough to reassure him that they mean the same sentiment.

#genshin impact #text #flyingwargle original #drabble #freminet #lyney #lynette #genshin drabble #fontaine siblings #tw: anxiety attack #tw: crying #inspired by lyney's taking damage line #i have a few other ideas about this too #maybe...for whumptober?

[dailydragon08]

When You Need Me

See my full masterlist here.

Pairing: Luke Skywalker x Jedi!Reader Summary: Luke provides some much needed comfort, cuddles, and kisses after a rough time. A/N: "Remnants" is a series of one shots in no particular order about the budding relationship between you and Luke as he trains you in the ways of the Force. Trigger warning for descriptions of anxiety/the beginnings of an anxiety attack. Read here on AO3.

*

You flopped down on the ship’s bunk hard, resting your elbows on your knees and letting your head fall into your hands. The last few missions had been hit after hit, and you were just so drained. It felt like the galaxy was sucking you dry of all your energy in a way that squeezed the air from your lungs and made you tremble. You took a shaky breath, cursing yourself for how it rattled around in your chest. 

You’re a Jedi, you told yourself. You’re supposed to be better than this. 

Luke had decided to keep the imperial shuttle he escaped the second Death Star in, modifying the insides so you both could live on it if need be. Two cargo holds had been converted into bedrooms with the others holding food, medical supplies, clothes, weapons, and more. The main area had been renovated to mimic the Falcon’s main hold with a refresher in the back. He’d named it the Redeemer and it had become a cozy home filled with your and Luke’s things as you two flitted around the galaxy.

You closed your eyes and let yourself fall into the Force’s embrace. Another rattle of breath filled your lungs as you dug your nails into your skin, resisting the urge to hyperventilate. There was nothing to hold onto out in the coldness of space. All you could sense were the inanimate objects around you, the thrum of R2’s energy, and Luke’s steady heartbeat from where he sat in the cockpit. You focused all your attention on his solidity, breathing in time with him and letting the steady thump-thump of his heart calm you. 

Several moments later, a soft voice said, “Hey, starflower.”

“Hi,” you grumbled without looking at the doorway. Still focused on his body, you could feel him carefully walk towards you.

His fingers gently stroked your hair. “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know. It just…got bad all of a sudden.” You felt the mattress dip as he sat beside you and pulled you against his side. You let your head fall against his shoulder as he took both of your shaking hands in his own. 

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of.” He nudged his nose into your hair before leaving a kiss there. 

“But Jedi aren’t supposed to do this—”

“You’re allowed to have emotions, Y/N. You’re allowed to feel drained and take time for yourself, even if I hate watching you suffer. I just wish you’d come to me when you’re feeling like this—not that you can’t have space if that’s what you need, but I just wish you wouldn’t worry so much about bothering me.”

You turned to meet his eyes. The ocean-like blues held love, sadness, and softness in equal measure as he cradled your face in his hand. “But you have enough on your plate.”

He tilted his forehead against yours. “You’re not a burden. I’m glad you’re on my plate.”

Love for him overwhelmed you and you couldn’t help but give a small smile. 

He smiled in return. “There’s the smile…I know things have been hard lately and I’m sorry. Maybe once we get back from this mission, we can take a little break and go somewhere. Just you and me.”

A beep of protest echoed from the cockpit, making you both laugh. 

“And R2,” he amended. 

You pressed further into his side. “That sounds nice…Where should we go?”

He pressed a soft kiss to your lips. “Anywhere you want. Just name the place and I’ll fly us there.”

You thought for a moment. “Leia really seemed to like Naboo when she went. You could learn more about your mom, too.”

He nodded. “She said it was really beautiful there…so you’ll fit right in.”

You snorted. “Wow, that was smooth for you, Skywalker.”

“Hey! I can be smooth!”

You giggled. “Have you been talking to your dad’s Force ghost again? Is he giving you suggestions?”

“You know what—come here.” He stood, pulling you up with him and holding you tightly as he suddenly kissed you deeply. You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you as his tongue darted past your lips. You drank in his scent and taste, letting your fingers wander into his hair.

One of his hands splayed across the small of your back while the other cupped the back of your head. You made a sound of surprise against his lips as he suddenly dipped you, bringing you back upright just as quickly. Laughs bubbled out of both of you as you broke the kiss. 

“How was that for smooth?” he asked, a smug smile on his face. 

You playfully whacked his chest, beaming brightly. “You’re ridiculous.”

He laughed and dragged the tip of his nose against yours. “Only for you.”

You cackled harder. “Now I’m just picturing you dipping diplomats on base in lieu of a handshake.”

He threw his head back and you couldn’t help but beam at the bright laugh that escaped him. “Oh, I’m sure Leia would love explaining that.”

“Just dip her, too.”

“I already lost one hand. I don’t need to lose the other. Or any feet.”

“Or your head—do they make cybernetic heads?”

He chuckled and buried his face in your neck. “Hey, I thought you liked my head.”

You squeezed him tight. “I like both your heads.”

“Oh, Maker, now you’re the one being ridiculous.” Although his face was hidden, you could feel it suddenly grow hot against your skin as he continued haltingly. “You haven’t even seen the…other…head…”

You chuckled and nuzzled into him, massaging your fingers through his hair. He melted into you and sighed, holding you tighter. “Not yet, anyway,” you mumbled. 

He snorted, pressing a soft kiss to your neck before pressing his cheek to yours. “I love you. And I’m here for you, always. Please don’t ever hesitate to come get me when you need me.”

“Okay—but only if you come get me, too.”

“I will. Promise.” He gently caressed the side of your face before planting a kiss on the other side. R2 beeped and whirled from the doorway. “Come on, we’re about to come out of hyperspace.” 

You took his hand as he led you to the cockpit. Before you could move to the other chair, he pulled you into his lap and pressed another kiss to your lips. He sighed against you as you deepened it, his hands running up and down your sides and spine. “I love you, too, by the way.”

He smiled. “I know.” The stars stilled around you as the blue light of hyperspace disappeared to be replaced by Ajan Kloss. Luke gently patted your butt as you transferred to the copilot’s chair. You watched as his hands expertly directed the ship toward the planet and hoped your upcoming trip to Naboo would involve him doing other things with his hands. 

#star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #luke skywalker x reader #luke skywalker imagine #luke skywalker #luke skywalker x jedi!reader #star wars remnants #my writing #luke skywalker fanfiction #luke skywalker fluff #tw: anxiety #tw: anxiety attack #luke skywalker comfort

[kawaiikenna]

@leap-ing @elithemiar-blog @halfblackwolfdemon @winged-scaly-attic-dweller @spideypools @redfoxtail26 @manapeer @8000fangirl @antagonistly @all-eyes-no-dragon @mysticalcomputerdetective @01101010-01100001-01111001 @stealingyourbones

Hopefully that’s everyone. Anyways, here’s chapter two! Drop a kudos and comment over on ao3: Under the Earth; Far from Home. Angst, panic attacks, being buried alive, ptsd flashbacks, as well as depictions of a severely malnourished and emancipated Danny ahead. If any of this triggers you please be careful!

Jason had been ignoring the signs. The itch to go riding that would inevitably end at the cemetery where he had been buried. The feeling like he had something to do there. Some kind of unfinished business that he couldn’t remember. The amount of trauma that was linked with the place made it…difficult, for Jason to even think about going past the cemetery gates.

Both Dick and Tim had gone in to see if they could find anything. They didn’t and Jason tried to put the whole thing behind him. To forget about the whole ordeal. But something kept pulling him back. Now two weeks after he initially started feeling the strange pulling, Jason is standing before the gates. He stares at the wrought iron with a slight distain.

He takes a deep breath and pushes past the gates and into the cemetery. His burial plot was in the southeast corner. So he made his way over to it, hoping that it would make these feelings finally settle. As he passed row upon row of headstones, the feelings did not settle. If anything, something stirred in his chest. Something fearful and desperate. Jason was about to turn around and give up when something caught his eye.

Tucked away in an unkempt corner was a very recent grave. Initially he thought it was unmarked but upon a closer look Jason found a wooden plaque sunken into the muddy ground. It had hastily carved words; ‘To our beloved son. We wish we had known sooner.’

Jason picked up and turned the plaque over to see if there was a name. There was none. Only the words he had seen before. He neatly places the plaque back at the head of the grave.

“Your parents must have loved you a lot buddy.” Jason says, his emotions settling just a bit in his chest. “I hope you rest in peace.”

And as he was turning to leave, something happened. It was like the barest of whispers spoken directly into his mind. Quiet but desperate all the same.

help

Jason turns back towards the fresh grave. He doesn’t know why he did it, but he responded. Not really in words, more of a wave of morbid curiosity. The answering response he got nearly knocked him off his feet.

Help, help, buried, not dead, alive, alive, ALIVE.

An instant wave of panic took over his senses. Suddenly Jason was back in his own casket. Buried underground with no hope of help or rescue. Left alone to suffocate and die a second time.

He was on his knees clawing at the dirt before he knew what he was doing.

Alive, help, coming, safe?

He waited on baited breath. Hoping for a response. Anything that would tell him that the boy buried there was still clinging to life. The further he dug into the dirt the more desperate he became. It had rained recently, just the night prior, so the dirt had become heavy and sloppy. Even with it being freshly turned, the rain had packed it down some. Making it much more difficult to dig through.

No, no, hurt, alive, hurt.

Jason screams into the empty cemetery. He roughly shucks off his motorcycle jacket and his shirt. Leaving him in his boots, jeans, and white tank top. Tiny rocks and dirt shove themselves under his fingernails as he shovels and scoops dirt, throwing it haphazardly, only caring about hopefully, possibly saving the boy.

Jason continued to send mental waves of help and safety through whatever mind fuckery this was. With every desperate cry for help, he became more frenzied and desperate himself. Soon, far too soon, he hadn’t dug even two feet into the ground, he made first contact with the casket. What he wasn’t expecting was to be shocked and for green sparks to shoot out from the box in the ground. Jason pushes past it though. It wasn’t too painful, more of like the kind of static shock you would get as a kid playing on the trampoline. Slowly, too slowly, he uncovered more and more of the box. He had finally uncovered most of it when he noticed a sliding hatch closer to the head of the coffin-like box.

He was not prepared for what he saw on the other side of this tiny window. Blue eyes with a green shine stared up at him. Tear tracks running down his face, glowing a strange green. Black hair limp and lifeless, flopped to one side of the kid’s face. Skeletal hands and fingers pressed up against the mockery of a window as green sparks flitted about. A gaunt, skeletal frame shaking from the constant shock.

Jason hesitated for only a moment before nearly ripping the lid off of the coffin. Hydraulic hinges squealing in protest as stale air flooded out of the box. There was soft sobbing coming from the teen. Jason gently picked him up and pulled him out of the tiny prison. The teen shook in his arms but held tightly to Jason as if his very being depended on it. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans with only socks on his feet. Everything was far too baggy on the boy, only testifying further that he was severely dehydrated and malnourished.

Jason whispered consoling words. What they meant he didn’t know, because at that moment the panic had finally swept him up. Flashbacks and anxiety threatened to swallow him up completely but was staved off by the quivering teen in his arms. It grounded him enough to keep a tight hold on the teen.

~~~

Jason wasn’t sure how long they had stayed down in the dug out grave. Long enough that the sky had turned from an almost dusky color to the city lightened smog of the night. The black haired teen had passed out into a deep sleep a while ago. When he had first fallen asleep Jason panicked, thinking that he had died. But a quick check showed that the teen was still breathing lightly and an impossibly slow heartbeat still thrummed in his chest.

Jason finally pulled them out of the somewhat shallow grave. He laid the teen in the grass and gathered up his clothing. Before he put his shirt back on, Jason chipped away all of the dried dirt on his arms. Anything that was still wet was scraped off and flicked into the grass. With his shirt back on he picks up his jacket and the teen, making their way back to his motorcycle by the gates.

He situated the teen to sit behind him on his bike. He used his jacket to secure the tiny, skeletal body to himself. Settling it over the sleeping teens shoulders then tying the sleeves around his own torso. Once Jason secured the teen as best he could, he took off into the night, phone ringing in his ear.

“Master Jason.” A prim and proper voice answered. “How can I help you this evening?”

“Hi Alfred. I’m going to need medical help.” Jason’s voice is gruff and water from the amount of screaming and tears he’s experienced in such a short time.

Alfred sighs. “What have you gotten yourself into that requires you to visit the Manor instead of your apartment?”

“I don’t need it. I found a boy buried alive in the same cemetery that I was buried in. He’s really weak, most likely severely dehydrated and malnourished. I-I’m not equipped to take care of something like this.” His voice is breaking slightly.

There was a moment of silence. The only sounds Jason could hear were the wind screaming in his ears and the muffled sounds of traffic. The panic he had shoved into the furthest darkest corner of his mind was starting to creep into his thoughts again.

“Alright. Bring him straight into the cave. I’ll have a bed ready for him and I’ll call Dr. Leslie in. I may be able to do many things, this however seems like a situation we need a professional opinion on.”

“Kay. I’ll see you then.”

#danny phantom #dp x dc #danny fenton #dc #dp #dc x dp #jason todd #dc comics #dpxdc #batfam #red hood #ficlet #tw: buried alive #tw: anxiety attack #Tw: severe malnourishment #tw: ptsd #tw: flashbacks #hopefully that’s all of the triggers #let me know if i missed anything

[humanitys-strongest-bamf]

"get me a damned matcha" | Chapter 7: December I

{{ Chapter 6: November I | Chapter 8: January I }} Chapter Directory

i finally finished outlining this series! which means i can get all the chapters written ahead of time and i'm so excited because things only get fluffier from here on out skdjfksf

if you wanna get tagged for updates, fill out this form here!

✧ pairing ➼ levi ackerman x fem!reader, college x coffee shop x roommates!au ✧ summary ➼ After you find yourself plagued with misfortune due to struggles in your personal and family life, you find yourself needing to move last minute. As a junior in undergrad with little money and little social support, you considered yourself lucky when you found a sublease that was close to campus and was relatively cheap. Unfortunately, it seemed that your roommate did not seem to be so excited regarding your presence. ✧ content/warnings ➼ fluff, slowburn, strangers to lovers, alcohol, college-typical parties, explicit description of an anxiety attack, mentions of death ✧ word count ➼ ~4k

> [you (4:45pm)]: hey you locked me out again > [you (4:47pm)]: hello??? > [you (4:48pm)]: hello??? earth to levi

> [levi (4:50pm)]: Should've come home earlier. I have work.

> [you (4:51pm)]: it's 4:50. u said your shift doesn't start till 5

> [levi (4:55pm)]: It's a 15 minute commute, dumbass.

> [you (4:56pm)]: YOU'RE a sumbass > [you (4:56pm)]: dumbass

> [levi (4:59pm)]: How clever > [levi (5:00pm)]: I made you another Matcha. Get your ass here before it gets cold.

~~~~~

It had started snowing on your way to the café. The weather forecast hadn't called it a snowstorm or anything along the lines of that, but walking through it was still a pain in the butt. You hadn't anticipated having to walk in it, so you were wearing tennis shoes, which meant that snow seeped in, leaving you with cold feet and wet socks. On top of that, you weren't wearing any gloves, so you had to have your hands shoved into your jacket pockets the entire time.

Needless to say, you were more than grumpy by the time you arrived. You shook the snow out of your hair and patted off your coat before sitting down at your usual spot with a more than obvious frown on your face.

Levi's gaze met yours and he pushed the cup of Matcha gently towards you. He seemed to notice your mood and chose to simply hand you the drink without providing commentary on the fact that you had locked yourself out of the house again. 

You mumbled a thanks as you took a sip of the drink that Levi had now been regularly preparing for you whenever you came into the café. Most days you simply appreciated the gesture, but there were also days like this where your mood was nothing but sour, so getting your comfort drink for free was more than needed.

You had left your apartment keys at home while you were in a rush to leave in the morning and then you had missed the bus on your way home. You rushed to your apartment, hoping that Levi was still at home, and were rudely met with a locked door. Today was just full of misfortunes.

You took solace in the fact that the Matcha meant there was at least one thing in your day that you could consider a positive. The day wasn't a complete loss.

"Does this mean I'm trapped with you for the next five hours until your shift is up?" you asked, finally placing the cup back down onto its accompanying plate.

"Fuck no," he responded with a frown. "Having you here for the entire shift will make it a hundred times worse."

Levi didn't miss the subtle pout that appeared on your face. If he didn't know any better, he would've sworn that he had hurt your feelings based on the look in your eyes.

He paused briefly, glancing at you, noting that you really did seem affected by his comment.

"Whatever," he mumbled underneath his breath as he began digging around in his pockets, before pulling out a spare key.

He began to slide it over to you.

"A spare that I made a while ago," he muttered, his fingers still on the top of the key to keep you from immediately grabbing it. "I expect you to give it back."

After emphasizing that last statement, he let go of the key and flicked it closer to you.

It took you a second to react. You hadn't expected this from him.

"Thanks," you said quietly as you took the spare and placed it in your pocket. 

You sipped on the Matcha again, subtly looking up as you watched Levi tend to his station. 

The two of you have kept this routine up for a few months at this point. You'd come in, he'd prepare you a drink, and you'd exchange some banter with him before he went back over to his station. You were surprised every time you saw Levi being completely engrossed in his station. As much as he complained about working here, you could tell he did legitimately enjoy making the specialty teas the café offered. It was probably one of the only things he could do to keep other real life things off his mind. 

You heard the door open (and felt the accompanying freezing wind) behind you.

"Oh hey, _____!" 

You turned towards the door and saw Nicolo leaning against the open door carrying a box of supplies.

"Oi, are you trying to turn this place into a fridge?" Levi called out. "Close the damn door."

Nicolo stepped inside, kicking the snow off his boots. Upon a closer inspection, you could see that he was carrying a variety of baking supplies in the heavy-looking box in his arms, likely to restock his own station.

"Hey!" you greeted with a wave. "How's business been?"

He walked up to you and placed the boxes on the counter, much to Levi's ire since they were still somewhat covered in snow. 

"Slower since you haven't been needing our pastries!"

"Well, the semester's over so activities are paused until after February."

"You going to the party tonight?"

"Probably," you said with a nod. A subtle smirk appeared at the edge of your lips. "I assume you're going with Sasha?"

"Wh-What?!" Nicolo exclaimed as his face flushed up. You had caught him off-guard.

"Nothing," you said innocently as you shut your eyes and continued sipping at your Matcha.

You've seen the two underclassmen interacting here regularly nearly every other day. Although it was none of your business, anybody with even a hint of social awareness could put the pieces together that there was something developing between the two. 

"If you're taking her out, I'd recommend getting something bigger to eat first," you spoke up, turning towards Nicolo, who was still reeling from your comment. "And it's Sasha, so I mean it when I say bigger to eat. It's an end-of-semester party, which means it's a bigger one. Make sure you have something to soak up the alcohol."

You were well aware that neither of them were drinking age, but you weren't dumb. Although there were some that attended parties without ever drinking, you knew it was rare. It was more than likely that the two of them would be drinking in some capacity. You'd rather them be careful, instead of them getting into trouble because you decided to turn a blind eye. 

You didn't notice, but Levi had kept his eyes on you throughout this whole exchange. Every single time you came into the café or interacted with him, the more of you he actually got to see. Although he wouldn't admit it to himself, you were straying further and further from his expectation of you as just another annoying undergrad.

"Are you going with anyone?" Nicolo finally asked after gathering himself.

You nodded. 

"I'm going with Petra and a few others. So I guess I'll see you there!"

~~~~~

Everyone had finally left.

While Levi didn't particularly enjoy closing shifts, he did find them more relaxing than his regular mid-shifts. He got to spend the last 30 minutes or so alone after closing to clean and prepare the café for the next day.

Still, given how late it was, he found himself in a sour mood. Having to be out past 11pm couldn't just be remedied by 30 minutes of cleaning, no matter how much he enjoyed it. He was more than ready to go home and lock himself in his room for the rest of the night.

The snow had stopped and only a small layer had gathered on the ground, but it was still fairly chilly outside. Levi dug his hands into his pockets and frowned at the fact that his breath was visible whenever he exhaled. He knew his car was going to be annoyingly cold once he got in. 

He felt his phone buzz.

He groaned, knowing it was you. He wondered if he should ignore it.

His phone kept buzzing. It was a phone call.

He finally dug out his phone, exposing his hand to the freezing temperatures surrounding him.

"What?" he spoke sternly into the phone, immediately grimacing from the loud background noise that came from the other end. He held the phone about an inch away from his ear. 

"Levi?!" 

He heard you yell into your phone, as if you were surprised that he picked up.

"What do you want?" 

He heard a lot of loud music, which meant that you were still at the party, but also wind blowing into your microphone, indicating that you were outside.

His eyebrows scrunched together as he tried to make out whatever it was that you were trying to say. He vaguely heard the words "me" and "up". With the music and the wind fighting for the microphone's attention, he could barely understand a word you were saying.

"What?" 

He heard some shuffling on the other end before your voice began coming through clearer.

"Can you p-pick me up?"

Your voice was unsteady and slurred. You were drunk.

"It's too late into the night, fuck off."

You had gone to the party with friends, so it wasn't like you didn't have a way home. Plus, he already had to pick you up last month at the last minute. He really didn't want this to form into a habit.

However, before he could bring his phone down away from his ear and press the end call button, you spoke again with a sense of urgency.

"Levi, p-please!"

He had noticed that your voice was unsteady the first time, but now he could almost picture you trembling as you spoke. 

You were upset about something. Listening closely, he was vaguely able to tell that you were crying based on the way that your speaking and breathing patterns were not matching up with each other, in addition to the sense of urgency in your voice.

He groaned audibly.

"Fine. Which stupid party are you at?"

~~~~~

Driving through this area of campus was always a pain in the ass. Not only did most of the buses pass through here, but it was also the central location for parties. Most fraternities were located here and it technically wasn't as monitored by campus security, which meant parties could go late into the night and be as wild as they wanted to get without too many repercussions. It was precisely why Levi avoided driving through here.

Yet, he found himself here, driving at a snail's pace, trying to pinpoint your figure out amongst the crowd of drunk undergrads. Given the fact that you were a small person, he had no idea where you could've been.

He parked across the street and shot you a quick text message telling you to get your ass outside within five minutes or he was going to leave. 

The five minutes passed.

He glanced at the frat house you had texted him the address of and still saw no signs of you.

He let out a tut of disapproval as he prepared to re-enter the freezing atmosphere. He was more than irritated as he got out of the car, zipping his jacket up as began walking towards the party.

Despite what he texted you, he wasn't going to leave you here, no matter how much he wanted to go home. He knew how shady these parties could get and that wasn't even considering how upset and intoxicated you had sounded over the phone.

He stared blankly into the crowd, trying to identify you within a sea of people.

It was only by luck that he saw you out of the corner of his eye. You weren't even at the frat house. 

You had stormed off to the nearby street corner, no doubt trying to get away from the party, although it didn't seem like you had a particular destination in mind. 

He began to make his way over to you, but paused once he saw you squat down and hold your chest.

You were upset, drunk, and likely about to be sick because you couldn't control your drinking. 

However, his hesitation quickly faded once he saw that you didn't keel over because you were going to be sick from the alcohol. 

You were struggling to breathe.

His walking quickly turned into a jog as he made his way over to you with a worried look in his eyes.

"What the hell is-"

You were indeed upset about something as tears streamed down your face. Your words were incoherent as you failed to push them out as you hyperventilated, barely taking in any oxygen with each breath in. One hand was placed onto the ground to keep yourself from falling face-first onto the concrete sidewalk, but even that was unsteady. 

"_____?" he called out your name. 

You didn't respond.

"Hey, brat," he said again, more urgently this time. 

When you didn't respond, he kneeled down next to you. 

You were having an anxiety attack. You weren't going to answer him in the state you were in.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and shook you a bit.

"Hey, brat," he spoke again quietly, although still with a sense of urgency as he attempted to ground you.

You rapidly shook your head, your eyes tightly shut, communicating that you knew that he wanted you to calm down, but that you couldn't.

"Look at me," he said sternly.

When you didn't respond, he let out a quiet "tch" before reaching out and gently lifting your chin so that you were looking into his eyes. 

"I said look at me. Do as I say."

Your vision was still wavering, but you were able to somewhat fix your gaze onto his gray eyes. Although you still felt like the world was swirling around you, your immediate field of vision held still. All of your senses seemed distorted, including him, but you tried your best to listen to the words coming out of his mouth.

"Breathe in for four," he instructed.

You parted your lips and took a shaky and unsteady breath in, but it immediately got caught in your throat and you felt your chest convulse as you heaved again. 

He shook your shoulder again to get your attention.

"Through your nose. Try again."

You slowly began to inhale through your nose, never taking your eyes off him.

"Hold for four."

You held your breath, with those four seconds feeling absolutely agonizing. You tried to focus on him as he fixed his gaze intensely on you, refusing to break eye contact with you.

"Out for four. Through your mouth this time."

You exhaled slowly through your mouth, having just done your first successful breathing cycle from within the past twenty minutes or so.

"Good," he said quietly with a nod. "Again."

It took a few more rounds of box breathing, but you were able to stabilize your breathing and somewhat calm your perception of the world around you.

With your anxiety attack somewhat mitigated, you finally collapsed and sat on the ground, burying your face into your hands as you quietly sobbed to yourself.

~~~~~

You were at the same diner as last month. You barely remembered walking in through the doors, much less getting into Levi's car and getting driven here, but you found yourself looking down at the now empty basket of fries and chicken tenders that you had apparently ordered for yourself.

You looked up and saw Levi sitting across the table, having opted for a cup of black coffee. It wasn't like he was going to sleep anyway.

This was the first time that Levi had seen you this upset. Sure, you were upset the last time you were at this diner, but that appeared more similarly to a low mood state, in contrast to him finding you sobbing and hyperventilating on the ground thirty minutes ago.

He could've just taken the both of you home, but considering how unsteady you were as he got you to stand up and how much you were babbling and incoherently apologizing to him, he opted to take you here instead. He figured at least the food would sober you up enough to tell him what the hell had happened.

You had spent the entire car ride sobbing and apologizing to him for a variety of reasons that he had never even thought of or considered. Sure, he was annoyed that you pulled him away from going home and shutting himself in for the night, but apologizing for being useless hardly seemed appropriate.

"...Thanks," you muttered quietly as you sniffled, looking down at the basket of fries. It was less that you were fixated on the fries and more that you were afraid to look up at Levi.

"...Don't mention it," he uttered, taking a few seconds to respond.

You finally glanced up at him, fully expecting him to be scowling at you, but you were instead met with his signature neutral expression.

"I do tend to gravitate towards food when hammered, so..." you said as you trailed off.

"Yeah?" he asked, crossing his arms as he watched you. "So you would've found yourself here regardless?"

"No," you said as you shook your head. "I don't think I would have."

You averted your gaze as you pulled up vague memories of the anxiety attack and Levi coaxing you out of it.

"Not the way that I was anyway."

You didn't expect Levi to come in with knowledge on how to calm you down. Everyone always just said "quit worrying" or "breathe", which did little to nothing. Levi was the last person you had expected to show up and actually walk you through something as fundamental as breathing—but you were grateful. You really didn't know what you would have done had he not shown up when he did.

You felt your face heat up in embarrassment.

"So...thanks," you mumbled again.

You heard him click his tongue.

"Didn't I just say not to mention it?" 

You vaguely saw him grab something and by the time you looked up, a balled up napkin came flying across the table towards you. Levi had bunched it up and threw it at you as a way of getting you to quit apologizing.

You swatted it away right before it hit your forehead, giving him an annoyed glare.

Regardless, it did make you feel better. You were beginning to sober up.

You stared at the balled up napkin for a few seconds before opening your mouth to speak again.

"Petra said something shitty," you mumbled.

"That girl you're always hanging out with?"

"Yeah," you whispered as you nodded. "She said something about how what my aunt said a few weeks ago could've been her 'way of caring', and that she had a point of-"

You suddenly stopped speaking as you felt your body tense up again as you recited in your head the words your supposed "closest" friend had mentioned to you.

"A point of the fact that I'm 'wasting' my parents' lives being the way that I am," you spoke quietly, with the end of your sentence being barely audible, as if you were afraid that speaking the words would confirm that they were true.

Levi raised his eyebrows at that comment.

"The way that you are?"

You looked over at him and gave him a grim expression.

"The semester didn't end great. Grades weren't all there. I even have some classes that I need to do extra stuff with over break to pass."

Petra's comment threw you off. You hadn't expected it from her. She was generally a very nice person, but you also knew that she'd occasionally mention something out of left field without really thinking about it. She was the embodiment of toxic and blind positivity, which was helpful for superficial problems that weren't actually upsetting. That wasn't really the case when it came to something that bothered you on such a deep level. The alcohol didn't help either.

Levi scoffed and an annoyed expression quickly overtook his facial features.

"Sorry," you whispered again, looking down with a shameful expression.

"What the hell are you sorry for?"

"I'm sorry for bothering you with this," you said as you continued to look down. "I can tell it's annoying you."

You knew how late it was and you knew that he worked a closing shift tonight. The fact that he came all the way out and took the time to get you food to sober you up and make sure that you were okay filled you with regret, guilt, and remorse.

You heard him let out a sigh of disappointment.

"It's not that."

You glanced up at him again, unsure of what he was trying to say.

"I just forget how annoying you all are about your grades," he grumbled while glaring off to the side. 

Upon seeing you staring at him with a confused expression, he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table while looking at you.

"People aren't to give a shit about your grades after you get your first job. Hell, even your first job is barely going to look at your grades. Your grades don't mean shit if you don't have anything to back it up with."

You fell silent, looking at the table as you contemplated his words. You knew what he was getting at. Good grades weren't enough.

"You're worth more than a letter on some piece of paper."

Your eyes widened as he spoke. He had gone from what sounded like beratement to affirmation within the blink of an eye. You were speechless as you looked at him. You didn't know how to respond.  You didn't know how to even process it. Regardless, his words had hit you on some level.

You saw his eyes flash down to your empty basket of fries. He began to get up while you found yourself in your dumbfounded stupor, bringing his wallet out as he walked up to the front counter with an irritated look on his face.

You watched him as you saw him chatting with the cashier up front to pay for your late-night meal.

You're worth more than a letter on some piece of paper.

Whether you would consciously admit it or not, those words were what you needed to hear. People always seemed to measure your worth based on your grades or your ability to get a certain thing done, and you still found yourself always preoccupied with what others thought.

For the first time, someone told you directly that those metrics did not dictate your worth. Your grades weren't everything. 

Those words undoubtedly meant a lot, but it was strange. The strange part was that it came from Levi. He's the last person you would catch providing words of comfort to someone. Although you can't realistically say that you hate him anymore—which was hopefully reciprocated by him—you still didn't expect that from him.

However, because it was Levi, who usually wanted nothing to do with you, you were able to believe that what he said was true. It wasn't a blanket statement or something he pulled out of his ass to make you feel better. He just wasn't that type of person.

Thus, you found yourself reacting much more to those words than you would have had it been anyone else.

Levi glanced back at you, noticing that you were watching him. He broke eye contact with you to sign the receipt that the cashier had printed out for him.

Everything he said was true. You really were worth more than whatever dumb grade some asshole with a PhD decided to slap onto your GPA record.

Throughout the course of the semester, your perception of what Levi thought of you versus what Levi actually thought of you shifted and fell out of balance. He thought higher of you than you thought he did, although you weren't quite in the headspace to be able to accept or process that.

All you knew was that one sentence was enough to encourage you to fight past the hurdle that consisted of this very shitty first semester.

#: @levisbrat25 @gothgril69 @sckerman @berrijam @notgoodforlife @meowjaa @averysmolbear @roseofdarknessblog @bejewelledd @hhighkey @ayame236 @sad-darksoul @velouria17 @kamyru @l1zk4 @layenacreates @lamees004 @whoami-72 @highgoon69 @chaotic-on-main @levishotgf @nube55 @chosos-mascara @heichoucleanfreak @svftackerman

#cw: alcohol #tw: anxiety attack #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi heichou x reader #captain levi x reader #levi #levi ackerman #levi heichou #captain levi #modern!au levi #coffeeshop!au levi #college!au levi #attack on titan #levi fanfiction #fics: matcha

[giggly-squiggily]

Returning The Favor (Blue Lock)

Hi hello welcome to Squiggily's Self Indulgent Time- in which I had a severe craving for Kunigiri and decided to write it. These two make me so freaking soft and I just- words can't form for how much I love them, you know? I hope you like it! :D

Cloud 9 (Taglist Peeps):

CW: Swearing, {Part 3: medical-based nightmares, panic and anxiety attacks}, mild angst

@cupcake-spice13, @myreygn

Summary: 4 times Kunigami tickled Chigiri and the one time he managed to return the favor.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1.)

Lights flicked on overhead like a window being drawn open- a chorus of tired groans and curses followed soon after. Kunigami yawned as he sat up-running a hand through his orange bed head as he watched Team Z around him begin to wake.

It was always so interesting to him watching people wake up. You had your early risers who were up well before the lights- Kuon was gently rousing a wrinkle faced Naruhaya awake with the promise of breakfast while Isagi stood, stretching his arms out and making his back pop in a series of satisfying cracks.

Then you had those who hated mornings with a passion. Raichi was cursing up a storm, face pressed in his pillow as he struggled to wake up. Gagamaru looked positively dead, a curtain of hair blocking his violent expression as he scratched at his buttcheek.

Then there were the ones who needed help waking up. A LOT of it.

“Oi, Princess; rise and shine.” Kunigami turned to the mound of blankets beside him, red hair poking out the top like his sister’s Troll dolls. For someone so graceful when he was awake, sleeping Chigiri was a disaster. Soft snores could be heard beneath the sheets, the mound raising and falling slowly with each breath he took. It was almost hilarious how heavy Chigiri slept; the world could be ending and he’d simply turn over and keep snoring. Sometimes the guys joke about him “Only waking up after true love’s kiss”.

While Kunigami rather liked that idea, he had an even better plan of attack.

“Princess…” Kunigami crawled over, gently prying the blanket off his boyfriend.The other made a noise of quiet scorn, frowning in his sleep as he curled up further against the morning chill. “It’s time for breakfast. Hurry before there’s nothing left.”

In response, Chigiri turned over, snuggling on his back with a sleepy sigh. The ginger shook his head, unable to fight down a smile.

“Alright- you asked for it.” He grinned, eyes landing on the sliver of skin between Chigiri’s sweats. He shimmied beneath the futon.

A second or two passed. Then-

PFFFFT!

“GAH!” Chigiri let out a shocked squeal, flailing beneath the blankets at the sudden raspberry being blown against his bare skin. Immediately after he was laughing hysterically, swatting and slapping at Kunigami’s back as he struggled to escape. “STAHHAHAP! SHTHAHHAHP! I’M UP! GHEHAHAHA I’M UHUUHHUP!”

“Are you sure?” Kunigami asked against his hip, grinning when the blankets got yanked off, allowing him to see the redhead’s hot glare. “Good morning, Chi. Sleep well?”

“I was- but then a big ugly ogre showed up in my dream and tried to eat me!” Chigiri tugged at Kunigami’s sweatshirt, unsuccessful in pulling him off. “He was tall with big muscles and orange fur and smelled bad.”

“Oh, that is IT!” Kunigami mock gasped before going right back to his tickles, making the redhead squeal and fall over. “Screw the cafeteria, I’m having raspberries for breakfast!”

“AHEHAHAHHA KUNIHIHIIHIHIHIHIHI!”

~~~

2.)

“How’s your knee?” Kunigami asked, brows furrowing when Chigiri made a soft noise, rubbing at the joint. They’d been running all morning- something about “90 minute endurance” that left a lot of the guys exhausted. Chigiri naturally outpaced them all- his speed was amazing even when he wasn’t going all out.

“It’s fine..just a little sore.” Chigiri tried to smile, but he looked so tired it came off as a grimace. “I’ll do my leg care in a bit. I doubt I could make it back to the locker rooms right now even if I tried.”

“Hm.” Kunigami kept looking at him, amber eyes flicking from his expression to his knee to the main rooms. Then he stood up suddenly, squatting before the redhead.

“What are you-Whoa!” Chigiri yelped when arms tucked under his legs and back, sweeping him off his feet. “K-Kunigami, put me down!” He grabbed on to him like a startled cat, cheeks getting warm when he heard a few of the guys whistle and croon at them. “I can walk back myself!”

“Sorry- can’t let you do that.” Kunigami told him simply, ignoring the others as he began to walk back to the main rooms. “Besides, what happens if you hurt yourself on the way in?”

“I’m not a porcelain doll! I won’t break. Chigiri snapped, pissed.

“Didn’t mean it like that.” Kunigami winced, expression falling. “Sorry.”

Chigiri grew quiet as they passed the sliding doors, the sound of the AC above them the only noise. Then: “No, I’m sorry. I’m not…used to getting help.” Chigiri’s expression softened to one of remorse as he squeezed Kunigami’s shoulder. “Thank you for helping me.”

“Hey, that’s what heroes do.” The ginger smiled as he leaned in, kissing Chigiri’s cheek. “I don’t like how down you look. Come on- smile for me.”

“Screw you- I don’t smile when people tell me to.” Chigiri rolled his eyes, flattening his mouth. No success- the corners of his lips were twitching.

“Not even for your knight in shining armor?” Kunigami teased, the hand under Chigiri’s knee curled, fingers wiggling beneath it. “After I’ve saved you from that dastardly ogre this morning?”

“Ehehhehehehe! Nohooho, dohoohn’t you dahhah-HERO!” Chigiri squeaked, nearly falling out of Kunigami’s arms when he felt his balance shift. “Don’t I’ll fall!” 

“I’ll never let that happen.” Kunigami reassured him, effortlessly readjusting his grip. “I’ll catch you always.”

“Wow, I’m swooning.” Chigiri deadpanned, even as his cheeks warmed and he snuggled closer, resting his head against the crook of Kunigami’s neck. “Get the smelling salts, I just might faint.”

“I’ll go get Gagamaru’s gym socks.” Kunigami offered, laughing when Chigiri pinched him, disgusted.

~~~

3.)

“Hey, look at me.” Kunigami’s voice was soft and hushed, as if Chigiri would shatter at anything louder. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

Chigiri would have snarked something in reply had he been able to breathe. The nightmare still played through his head over and over- a tall grotesque figure with a massive circular saw looming over him, going to cut off his leg. He could still hear the sound of that terrible machine in his ears, the gleam of it as it got closer and closer until-

“Hyoma.” The sound of his name snapped him back to reality, and he looked up with panicked eyes at Kunigami. “We’re gonna breathe together, okay? Follow my lead. Ready?” Kunigami set a pace- slow and deep. Chigiri struggled to keep up, his breathing shaky and hitching with each inhale. His vision was so blurry- was he crying or sweating? Was he even awake or was this dream Kunigami putting him under before the big chop?

“That’s it…nice and slow…” Kunigami’s hands found his. They were so warm, hot almost in Chigiri’s clammy ones. They felt so real and thick and human. Calloused and rough yet so incredibly gentle. “There we go. Just like that.”

His lungs weren’t on fire anymore. The tightness in his throat was starting to loosen. When he breathed in again, it wasn’t so hard. “H-hero?” He stammered out, barely over a whisper.

“I’ve gotcha, Princess.” There it was- the one thing that reminded him where he was. No longer in a doctor’s office wheeling to surgery- no longer in the warped hospital of his nightmare. He was in Blue Lock, the aluminum floors cold against his bare feet, the wall against his back prodding into his spine uncomfortably. He didn’t care- discomfort was reality to him. His hands weren’t trembling anymore. “There we are. Just like that.”

He didn’t know how much time passed. He honestly couldn’t remember leaving the main room. He probably fell asleep out here- or maybe he woke everyone up. It didn’t matter- Kunigami was beside him now, an arm sliding across his back and pressing him into a broad chest. He could hear Kunigami’s heartbeat racing. “I scared you..”

“No, I’m not scared.” He reassured him, the hand on his back sliding up and under his sweatshirt, pressing into bare skin. The touch was incredibly comforting. “Just worried.”

“Sorry…” Chigiri mumbled, blinking as tears slid down his cheeks. He didn’t know if they were fresh or lingering.

“Don’t.” Kunigami sounded so gentle yet firm. The hand on his back ran across his spine, fingers curling as they dragged along his skin. Any other spot Chigiri probably would have squirmed away, too ticklish for his own good. Maybe he was too drained to react, but he rather liked the feeling. “Rest. I got you.”

Chigiri hummed, closing his eyes, the feeling of Kunigami’s nails scratching his skin combined with the sound of his heartbeat was like a lullaby to him. “Thanks…Rensuke.”

If Kunigami replied, he didn’t hear it. He was already asleep.

~~~

4.)

“Say it.” Kunigami was staring at him- a new intensity in his expression. “I wanna hear it.”

“Hmm….no.” Chigiri decided, fighting down the urge to smile as he carried on blow drying his hair. “I don’t like being told what to do.”

Kunigami puffed, the frown he was trying to force on his face coming off more like a pout. The effect was rather adorable- Chigiri almost gave in just for that face alone.

This was more fun, he decided.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Chi!” Kunigami scooted closer when the appliance turned off, Chigiri putting it aside as he gathered up his hair tie. "My kryptonite- the one who takes down superman!”

“I thought you liked All Might.” Chigiri hummed as he began braiding the side of his head, working the soft strands down slowly. “Does that mean I’m whatever his name is? The dry bones looking guy?”

“Oh no- you’re far too pretty to be Shigaraki.” Kunigami’s fingers came over his, taking over the task. Chigiri almost swatted him away but decided against it, letting his hands fall to his lap with a small sigh of content. “Though if I had to compare you two in personality…”

Chigiri tch’d,  reaching back and pinching Kunigami’s thigh. The ginger yelped, spasming some and accidentally tugging the redhead’s hair. Chigiri hissed in pain, his glare softening to a grumpy cat look after the hero pressed a soft kiss against his crown in apology. “I’m still not saying it.”

“What? After this beautiful job I did with your hair?” Kunigami finished the braid, tying it off and tucking it away. “What’s left of it anyway.”

Chigiri snorted, his hand running over the plait. “I’ll be thinking of it all day- really; my head still hurts.”

“Sorry- though you’re the one who decided to tickle me while I’m holding your hair.”  Kunigami pointed out, a small grin pulling at his lips at the word. “You know, now that I think about it…”

“Kunigami.” Chigiri knew that voice all too well. He went to run, but hands were already at his sides, pulling him back into a broad chest. “Don’t you dahahhahre!”

“Say it and I’ll stop.” Kunigami teased, fingers pressing into his ribs like a piano, bringing out a wide range of giggles and snorts from the redhead. “Give in, Princess~”

“Noohoohohooho wahahahahhay! I’m noohohohohohot sahhhahaying shiiihiihihihihihit!” Chigiri declared, even as he sank further, grabbing at the ginger’s wrists. “Kuhuuhuhuuhnigahahhhami, plehahahahhahse!”

“Please what?”

“Yohhoohoohu know whahahahhat!”

“Do I? What am I doing?”

“Tihiiihihihickling mehehhe-No whahahhhahahhait! Whahaaihiihiihihihit!” Chigiri squealed when a hand slid to his belly, clawing at the center while the other carried on prodding his ribs. “Nohooohoho doohoohohohohon’t!”

“Which is it? First you’re asking me to wait, and then you’re asking me to please keep tickling you!” Kunigami mock argued, giving Chigiri’s knees a friendly squeeze and earning a whole array of cackling laughter. “Such a demanding princess- make up your mind!”

“AHEHAHHAHAHA!” Chigiri squeaked out a whine, face hidden in his hands as he tried to curl up and away. His ears were as red as his hair, cheeks hurting from how much he was smiling. “KUUUHUHUHUHUNIGAHAHHAAMIHIHIHIHI!”

“You know what I want to hear.” Kunigami smirked.

“FIHIHIHIHNE, FIHIIHIHNE! AHEHAHHAHAHA- RENSUHUHUUHKE!” He cried, gasping for breath when the tickling finally came to an end. Kunigami looked pleased, his face warmed and lightly flushed. “Ahehehe…hehhehehe….hahahappy now?”

“With you? Always.” Kunigami grinned, deeping Chigiri’s own blush significantly. “Hey.” He reached out, brushing his hair out of his face gently. “I love you, Hyoma.”

“Ugh, you’re tehherible!” Chigiri covered his face, suddenly shy. Eventually, he moved his hands, sitting up some so he could properly face the other. “I love you too…Rensuke.”

Kunigami’s heart swelled three times its size.

~~~

5.)

“Ugh, my back…” Kunigami groaned as he stretched, wincing when the muscles along his spine screamed at him. “I’m too young to have these problems- what the hell?”

“Pfft- old man.” Chigiri teased, squeaking when Kunigami’s sweatshirt hit him dead on. “Ew, hero sweat.”

“Drink it, it’ll give you superpowers.” The ginger grinned, cackling when Chigiri practically flung the garment away, grimacing. “What, don’t wanna be my Mrs. Incredible?”

“Watch yourself.” Chigiri rolled his eyes, his teasing smirk dropping some when Kunigami flinched. “You okay?”

“Yeah- my lower back is just being loud.” Kunigami sighed, rubbing it with one hand. He knew he shouldn’t have overdone it working out- he could feel the beginnings of strain settling in halfway through his routine. Reo even told him to rest, but he was so confident he could handle it.

“Lay down on your stomach.” Chigiri ordered, earning a raised brow.

“Huh?”

“Lay down on your stomach.” He said again, gesturing to the single bed. “I’ll give you a massage.”

Kunigami’s brows raised, a twinge of both eagerness and reluctance swirling in his chest. “I can’t ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking. I’m offering.” Chigiri shrugged, flapping his hand at the bed impatiently. “You’ve always helped me out when I needed it- I want to do the same for you.”

Kunigami looked at the bed and back at the redhead. Then he laughed, reaching out and pulling Chigiri in his arms, squeezing him gently. “You always help me too. Thanks, Chi. I appreciate it.”

“I haven’t done anything yet.” Chigiri mumbled against his chest, his arms coming around to hug him back. “Now-get in the bed before I change my mind.”

“Pfft- alright, I’m going. So demanding…” Kunigami laughed, doing just so. He heard Chigiri shuffle behind him as he got comfortable, the weight of his boyfriend soon following as he straddled his legs. “Ever massaged someone before?”

“Nope- but I’ve watched enough youtube videos on it- surely I can figure it out.” He cracked his knuckles, flushing some at the raised eyebrow Kunigami gave him over his shoulder. “Shush.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your eyebrow is as loud as your back.”

“Were they shirtless guys?”

“Ugh, nevermind. Suffer.” Chigiri huffed, starting to get off. Kunigami laughed, reaching out and catching his hand, making him pause.

“Wait, wahahait- okay for real. I’ll be quiet.” He promised, kissing Chigiri’s knuckles.

The redhead rolled his eyes, face still flushed. Then he sat back against Kunigami’s thighs, tapping his hands against his back. “Let me know if I’m hurting you.” Then the hands tapping began to knead, pushing deep and slow.

At first it hurt like absolute hell. Then the relief followed, spreading with the pain across the nerve endings of his back and making the ginger groan.

“Feels good?” Chigiri sounded highly amused.

“Don’t stop- please.” Kunigami sighed. He could feel Chigiri swell with pride above him, the hands pressing into his back growing more confident. He felt himself start to fade out from just how relaxed it made him feel.

Until those little hands strayed close to the back of his ribs.

“Hmm! Careful now.” Kunigami twitched, spasming some. Chigiri paused, then those hands did it again, this time the touch even lighter. Giggles climbed up the hero’s throat, pressing against the back of his teeth. “C-Chi!”

“Ticklish, hero?” Oh that tone- he should have known this was bound to happen. Chigiri’s fingers curled even more, his nails skittering over the bare skin along his ribs. That did it- Kunigami arched with a cackle, feet kicking up behind him as he squirmed. “Good. After all the tickling you do to me, it’s about time I return the favor.”

“Chihihihiihi! Ahehahahhahahaha! Chiihihihigihihihihiri, plehahhahahahashe!” Kunigami tittered, fists clutching the sheets of the bed as he struggled not to flail. Those devious nails- they skittered and traced from the edges of his bottom ribs to the center of his armpits, pressing in occasionally just to get a snort. Sometimes they’d skitter up to his neck, making Kunigami scrunch and giggle. “Stahhahahahp, whahahhhat aboohoohout my mahhahhahahahsahahahhage?”

“This is the massage- a tickle massage.” Chigiri giggled, dropping one hand so he could prod at his belly, earning a loud squeal. “Oo, bad spot? Good to know.”

“HEHEHHEHEHHEYOHOHOHOHOMA!” Kunigami cackled, unable to hold still when Chigiri brought both hands to his belly, dancing his nails along the softer parts of his abs. “PLAHAHAHAHSE IT TIHIIHIIHICKLES TOOHOHOHOHOH MUCH!”

“Good. That’s the point, Rensuke.” The redhead rested his head against Kunigami’s back, giggling along within him. “You know- I was reading this new manga. Apparently the big source of energy for the characters is riiiiiiiiight here.” He wiggled his fingers right along the center of Kunigami’s belly, poking at his belly button. “Tao or something, you know?”

Kunigami didn’t know- for at that moment he let out a loud unadulterated squeal before finally having enough. Using all his strength, he flipped. Chigiri yelped as he went flying, nearly falling off the bed before Kunigami caught him, pulling him into his chest. Hands grabbed his wrists, keeping them up and away from his belly. “Thehehehre! Thehrehehehere…no more tihihihkckling.”

Chigiri looked a little dazed, recentering himself. Then he was grinning, and then he was laughing, face against Kunigami’s chest as the reaction settled between them. “Pfft-Geahhahahahaha! What kind of noise was thahahahhaht?”

Kunigami tried to be mad, but it wasn’t long before he was laughing just as much, supporting Chigiri’s neck as he pulled him closer, rolling them so they were lying side by side. “Shush- you squeal louder than me. That was just eh…defense mechanism.”

Chigiri howled at that, his voice nearly breaking from how hard he laughed. By the time they settled down, his eyes were misty, snorts breaking up his huffs of mirth. Kunigami doubted he looked much better- his belly held that comfortable ache from laughing too much, his heart pounding a mile a minute. “Oh god…oh my god, I fucking love you.”

“Heh, I love you too.” Kunigami smiled, reaching out as he brushed Chigiri’s hair out of his face. His eyes flicked to his lips, a silent request. Chigiri smiled before leaning up, taking his lips within his own.

“Want me to finish your massage?” Chigiri asked a tad breathlessly as they pulled away. 

“Nah. I like this more.” Kunigami grinned, taking his boyfriend’s chin in hand before kissing again and again.

Thanks for reading! :D

#blue lock #tickle #tickle fic #fluff #kunigiri #kunigami rensuke #chigiri hyoma #self indulgence #I'm incredibly soft for them y'all #tw: swearing #tw: medical stuff mentioned #tw: nightmares #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety attack #it's 90% fluff #just the smallest pinch of #angst #Kunigiri my beloved #4 + 1 fics #squiggily's self indulgent time

[illusionsofdreaming]

falling hard, falling soft;

Notes: For this one I’ll leave my personal notes at the bottom. Please take note of the trigger warning.

Ft: Cale

tw: anxiety attack

As it sometimes does, it came without warning. You weren’t even sure what triggered it. Only that you were reading documents one moment and the next you felt were chills running down your spine. 

Shit. You set down the papers by the side as you pushed your chair away from the table. Why? You clasped your hands together even as your breathing began picking up. You’ve had only a moment’s time to feel annoyance against the inconvenience of it all before the building fear washed over all sensible thought and clutched its invisible hands around your throat.

Breathe. A mantra you chanted to yourself even as your airway seemed to close on itself. I’m just imagining it. You’ve been through this before and you understood it’s just panic clouding your thoughts. You’re not actually suffocating but- it was getting really hard to breathe. Cold sweat broke out over your skin as you trembled in your seat.

Stop, stop. Feelings of dread rose over you like waves crashing against the shore, over and over again and you could feel yourself tipping, so close- barely held back by your last slips of rational thought. You were shaking so hard in your seat, you’re surprised you haven’t fallen over.  

I can’t breathe- but why? Something so basic, so normal- you’ve been doing so well until now- so how could you have forgotten how to breathe? A hysterical laugh burst from your lips and your lungs seemed to constrict into itself. 

Somewhere at the back of your mind you realised you should call for help. The attack came too suddenly, too violently and wasn’t something you could handle by yourself. They wouldn’t judge and they knew about your condition but somehow, letting them see you now, like this, struggling to do something as simple as breathing, was suddenly the worst possible thing that could happen. 

You gasped, reeling on the threads of oxygen you could barely get past your closed airway. Your knees hit the ground as you shook, and shook, and shook.

You’re being irrational. A voice chides at the back of your mind, a part that’s detached from you writhing on the ground. You’re being dramatic. The guilt and shame was an iron grip around your chest slowly crushing you and that’s when you heard the door to your room open.

“__________, have you seen the papers-“

And then Cale’s there, hands on your shoulders as he propped you up, concern on his face as he held you, drawing you back from your downward spiral momentarily. I’m alright, I’m fine, you wanted to tell him but your ability to string words together had been the first to slip from you as shame took the front wheels of your thoughts. It was hard to decide whether you wanted his help or to kick him out for witnessing the ugliness of your vulnerability. Why did he have to come in now when all you could manage was gasp for how little air there was, and why can’t you just breathe-

“__________,” his brows creased as he grabbed your hand and placed it over his heart. “Listen. Breathe in. Breathe out.”

I can’t! You weren’t sure if you wanted to laugh, cry or scream at the absurdity of the situation. Can’t he see that’s what you’re trying to do?

His grip tightened around your wrist, the painful pressure focusing your attention briefly. “You can breathe, you’re hyperventilating now. You need to slow down. Follow me.”

Tears pooled at the corners of your eyes in frustration but with enormous effort, you began to fight for your breath, following Cale’s firm instructions as he guided you, breath by each agonising breath. Slowly, painfully, you fought to control your breathing, with every inhale that doesn’t end with a hitch, you began to regain lucidity and the grip around your throat began to loosen. Throughout the whole process, Cale stayed with you, never breaking his gaze from you and keeping a firm pressure against your hand.

As the adrenalin receded, the overwhelming exhaustion that inevitably came after every attack crashed over you and you would’ve fallen on your side had Cale not caught you. The worst of the attack was over and you let out a shuddering sigh as you slumped against his side. He pulled you closer and gently guided your head to rest against his shoulder, rubbing your shoulders as the remaining tremors in you died down.

“What caused it?” he asked after a while. 

The aftermath of an attack always left you feeling boneless and liquefied. You glanced down at your fingers, the feeling of pins and needles running up and down your arms made you feel weightless and detached from reality. Something at the back of your mind warned you that it’s not over, that it’ll come back and you won’t be able to hold it back this time-

Cale’s grip tightened around you and you snapped out of the dangerous spiral, this time catching yourself before you could work yourself up again. 

You closed your eyes and focused on Cale’s slow breathing beside you, anchoring yourself to his stabilising presence. Now that you’ve calmed down once, it was easier for you to recognise and compartmentalise the smaller panic attacks.

“I don’t know.” you rasped sluggishly, throat sore from choking hard on nothing. 

That was just how it was, you could register and recognise all the symptoms of an oncoming attack but no amount of preparation or knowledge could guarantee you would be able to stave it off every time. If there was logic to it, you supposed it wouldn’t be called a disorder. 

He nods and asked no further questions and you sit in companionable silence together until your head started drooping and you shivered from the chill that slowly crept up on you. 

“Can you make it to the bed?” he asked softly as he squeezed your shoulders, gently massaging the stiff muscles.

You contemplated your physical condition, the exhaustion that weighed down your bones and shook your head lightly. Without hesitation, his strong arms came beneath your knees and behind your back as he picked you up from the ground, holding you close to his body so you could take advantage of his body heat.

Such a big attack doesn’t happen often, but when it does it always left you out of it for the rest of the day. It sucked and you could feel the apology weighing on the tip of your tongue but you leashed the demon back, knowing deep down, even if it doesn’t feel like it, that it’s not yours nor anyone’s fault.

“Thank you.” you said, despite what your demons wished and counted it as a small victory. He glanced down at you and sets you down on your bed before wrapping your blanket around you. 

He sits on the bed and met your eyes. “You did great.” 

A comment which made you chuckle lightly despite everything. 

“Do you need anything?” 

You tugged the blankets closer to your form, huddling in the warmth as the question turned in your mind. “I don’t know.” you swallowed thickly, looking down at your knees in shame. You’re just tired and aching, mentally and physically, it was hard to tell what could or couldn’t make you feel better at this moment.

“That’s okay.” His brown eyes were clear. “Is it alright if I stay here by your side?”

There was no expectations from him and you knew that at any time if you wanted time alone, he would immediately get up to give you space. You thought back to how he’d helped you calm down, how being taken care of this way didn’t feel so burdensome for once. Maybe you didn’t want company on most bad days but there can also be days where another’s companionship was enough. So as you gave your permission with a small nod, he seated himself next to you, leaning against the headboard as he stretched out his legs beside you. 

You sit beside each other like this, each lost in your own thoughts, as you slowly felt your heartrate slow to a lethargic thud. At the back of your mind you knew you’ll have to unpack what happened today later. You should run through what had happened before the attack and hopefully figure out what triggered you, but for now, with his presence by your side, you allowed his soft rhythmic breathing to lull you to rest.

It’s okay.

Notes: This was written based on personal experience- though I have never been formally diagnosed, nor looked into it, honestly I’m not sure I can claim if what this piece was based on could be called anxiety/panic attack - so if there are misrepresentation, or discomfort due to this, please accept my apology here, as I wish not to offend anyone.

This piece came from a rather... interesting place. Since I’ve never looked too closely into why I feel this way when it happens, I’m not sure if people with anxiety goes through the same thing. What I do know is that the first time it happened to me it completely blindsided me, unfortunately I do not have a Cale by my side so let’s just say it was a struggle to handle things out on my own. 

Ahem, not to bring the mood down here I just wanted to do an exploratory piece. Something more serious and slightly more gnarly. and here we are

On a completely irrelevant note, as I was trying to figure out what to title this piece, my brain for some reason came up with the brilliant idea to call it “asparagus” for some reason. Evidently, I did not listen to it. But it keeps looping in my head. So alt. title would be asparagus. I suppose..?

#tw: anxiety attack #tcf #trash of the count's family #imagines #tcf x reader #cale henituse #anxiety attack #panic attack #stress #comfort #i guess it's true what they say #that strong emotions really are a great source of motivation/inspiration for creatives #i was stuck on the toughest writers block on this once piece for months #but i wrote this one in half a day #funky moods amirite?

[hellish-hyperfixation]

rainy days | seo changbin x male reader

genre: hurt/comfort (is that even a genre?)

Sometimes, rain fell from the skies and you didn't have an umbrella or a roof over your head to protect yourself from it. And sometimes, that rain led to a flood that consumed your very being. Luckily, Changbin is there to help you remember how to swim.

requested

word count: 1.2k

warnings: mentions of self harm, vivid description of a panic attack

a/n: i am back! and will hopefully be able to finish the final request and make all the changes i want to by tonight. this fic was entirely based on my own experiences, so it may not be accurate or relatable for everyone, but i hope you can enjoy nonetheless.

reblogs and comments are always appreciated:)

Life is… Not always fun, to say the least. Whether it’s a single big event ruining your life like a plane crashing into the middle of the road, or a collection of small problems overwhelming you like a house with a hole in the roof filling up until the family inside of it drowns, life gets tough. Today is no exception. 

It started like any other day. Wake up, morning routine, and a seemingly endless list of responsibilities ready to be fulfilled and disposed of. Only, it wasn’t like any other day. From the second you woke up, it was going awry. Being late for work, thus yelled at by your boss; getting the wrong order, but not wanting to inconvenience the employees; it started to rain when you hadn’t brought your umbrella, making you and your clothes get soaked; among other slight inconveniences that felt larger and more irritating the more they built up. 

The roof was blown off by a hurricane by this point, and the only reason water hadn’t spilt over the side was because you weren’t home yet. 

But the moment you got home, they flooded, and they flooded hard. 

You threw off your shoes and slumped down on the floor, warm tears already streaming down your face as a stark contrast to your now cold cheeks. Your clothes stuck to you like a second skin, and you wanted for nothing more than to grow claws and rip them to shreds. Any bare skin that showed stung and felt overworked by the rain that pelted down on it, and no matter how much you wiped it just wouldn’t dry. 

You sat there on the floor in front of the front door, pulling your legs to your chest and burying your face into your knees. At some point — you couldn’t tell when — your lungs began working overtime to fill your brain with oxygen that was never enough, and your throat let out sobs and whines and shudders in an attempt to rid your heart of its massive burden. Your head blamed your lungs for not working hard enough because it felt cloudy and foggy and not a single coherent thought was going through your mind because the only thing left in there was dizzy, dizzy, dizzy and the occasional throb, throb, throb that pounded against your skull like a semi truck with tires made of oil. 

You were drowning — your entire body submerged in thick, murky water, with weights pulling you down at your ankles and wrists. Oxygen was a privilege, one you apparently didn’t earn. Your fingers clawed at your arms, digging into them tightly enough to leave moon-shaped crevices in the skin — some even going as far as leaving tiny droplets of blood that made the water even muddier. You didn’t know how long you sat there, overstimulated and stressed and wishing it would all just end already—

“–be! Baby, come back to me. C’mon, deep breaths now. We practiced this, remember? In, 2, 3, out, 2, 3”

Your boyfriend. He came home. He’s home. And so are you.

You followed his instructions, taking slow breaths as prompted, and slowly but surely you managed to clear parts of the fog in your mind. He sat with you on the floor, hands grasping yours and squeezing in time with the breaths. 

“Can you tell me what day it is for me?”

You have to think for a moment, wading through the murky swamp of information to get to the day of the week, then you relay the information to him. You look up to meet his face, and a relieved smile graces his lips. Your heart aches at having created the need for such an expression in the first place, but it also sings with joy at knowing he’s there for you even at these low points. 

“How are you feeling?” 

You sniffle and let out a wet laugh, nodding.

“Like shit. But better. Thanks, Binnie.” 

He smiles in response to match your attempt at one. 

“Good. That’s good. Up for taking a nice bath?”

You shake your head this time, suddenly feeling aware of the stickiness on your skin again. 

“I think I’ve had enough water on my body for today. I’ll just have a quick rinse.” You slowly stand, and Changbin helps you up with strong, steady arms. “Could you get some dry clothes ready for me?” You ask, somewhat timid at needing more help. The radiant smile on his face washes it away. How could someone be so willing to be there with you every step of the way? Asking for nothing in return?

“Anything for my man,” Changbin teases, and you chuckle despite yourself. 

“Cuddles in the bedroom after?” And you know before you even ask that the answer is a definite yes. 

________

After your quick shower, you change into the clothes that Changbin left for you on the bathroom sink, and feel every muscle in your body melt at how comforting it is. It’s one of his oversized hoodies, which means it consumes you whole with your boyfriend being so much more buff than yourself, one of your best boxers, and a pair of your favorite sweatpants. They were all warm, meaning they must’ve been fresh out of the dryer. 

When you get to the bedroom, you’re met with Changbin already laying in bed, tapping away at a laptop. Soft music played from one of the speakers on his desk, wrapping the room in a comforting blanket. He looks up at you as you enter, greeting you with a slight grin. 

“Feeling better?” He shuts his laptop and places it on the bedside table. All of his attention was on you, and he made sure you knew it. You only nod in response and flop onto the bed, arms wrapping around his torso. The sleeves of your hoodie rolled up at the action, revealing parts of your arm to him. He placed a gentle hand on it, pushing the clothes even more up to reveal more skin and let tender fingers skim along its surface. Your fingernails must’ve left their little moons behind. 

One glance solidified your suspicions. Scattered across your skin at random intervals were bits of skin peeling off. Looking closely, one could see healed scars showing pain from the past. You looked away.

“I’m sorry…” You whispered, clutching on to Changbin just a little tighter. “I know I said I’d stop, it’s just—” You sniffled, feeling tears prickle at the corners of your eyes. 

“I know, baby. It’s okay. You did what you had to.” Changbin wrapped his arms around your shoulders, giving a tight squeeze. He then leaned down to leave a silent kiss on your head. 

You laid there for a moment, allowing the warmth from Changbin’s body and his hoodie to give your body the much needed relaxation. You closed your eyes, listening to his soft breathing and the music playing in the background. Comfort. Warmth. Love. Safety. The storm was over, and you could sit in peace knowing that you survived. There would be more to come in the future, but you knew that Changbin would be there for you every step of the way of this arduous journey. 

#seo changbin x male reader #stray kids x male reader #x male reader #kpop x male reader #tw: self harm #tw: anxiety attack #tw: panic attack

[thesteveharringtonclub]

“You’re goin’ to be alrigh’.”

Summary: Steven Grant comforts you.

Main Character(s): Steven Grant

Warning: This story features a detailed description of an anxiety attack.

Curled up in the corner, your sobs echo quietly around the room as Steven makes his way towards you. Sinking to the floor before you, he focuses his attention on your trembling figure before tilting his head in an attempt to meet your terrified gaze.

“Are you alrigh’,” he asks softly. Normally, his soothing voice would be a welcome distraction, but not when the pounding of your heart was an overwhelming sensation. Your silence was making him uneasy as your fingers found their way towards each other, intertwining in a restless manner. His warm mahogany eyes grow wider with concern as he gently places his soft hands over yours.

“Steven,” your voice is barely a whisper as his name tumbles from your lips. “I c-can’t breathe...” He catches a glimpse of panic growing more evident in your dark eyes as you start clawing at the discomfort that's growing in your chest. “S-Steven...” The man in question can't stand seeing you like this as he tries to fight back the tears that have begun gathering in his eyes.

“I’m righ’ here.” He grabs your hand and places it against his own chest, keeping it steady. “Do you feel that... that’s the beatin’ of my heart, alrigh’? I want you to focus on that, can you do that for me?” You nod your head in silent agreement. “Alrigh’, you’re goin’ to be alrigh’.” You close your eyes and let the rhythmic beat start to calm you down, thankful to have Steven by your side.

#moon knight #moon knight imagines #steven grant #steven grant x reader #tw: anxiety attack

[bytheangell]

to you i can admit (that I’m just too soft for all of it)

(Read on AO3) (TW: anxiety, anxiety attack) Alec hates this feeling. He isn’t a stranger to it, but the strength with which it washes over him today catches him entirely off-guard. He can’t ignore it, but even worse, he can’t hide it. The slightest inconveniences and missteps throughout his day nearly bring him to tears on more than one occasion. With every overly-loud conversation half-shouted across the cafeteria or the bustling area of the Ops Room Alec notices his anxiety rising steadily throughout the day. He spends his lunch break lying on the floor of his office with all the lights off, willing his mind to quiet for a few precious minutes of peace before he’s back to the grind.

His hands are shaky while he forces his way through the paperwork he must finish before he can be done with his day… or at least the public portion of his day. He sends Magnus a warning text that he isn’t in the best mind space just so his husband is aware of it. Being honest about his bad days instead of hiding them is something Alec’s been working on improving.

After what feels like centuries but is really only another hour, Alec wraps up his reports and walks away from anything that can wait until tomorrow. All he wants is to be home. All he wants is to be with Magnus.

It feels like such a goddamn cliche but Alec knows that it’s true: the moment he steps through the doorway of the apartment they call home, there’s an immediate release of some of the tension in his chest.

And then Alec wants to cry all over again, but for the best of reasons this time.

The sofa is covered with their most comfortable blankets and pillows taken from the bed. His favorite snacks are on the side table, and a stuffed bear Magnus got him last Christmas waits in Alec’s usual spot next to Magnus. To top it all off, one of Alec’s favorite of Magnus’ records is playing in the corner, soft and soothing.

“Welcome home, darling,” Magnus greets him, already waiting for Alec on the sofa. “How are you feeling?” “I’m fine,” Alec says instinctively.

“Go get changed into something comfy,” Magnus suggests instead of immediately prying into Alec’s day.

Alec nods, slowly making his way to their room to slip into some sweatpants and an old t-shirt before immediately going back to the living room and wordlessly crawling onto the sofa, cuddling up against Magnus so that he’s half-laying across him, head resting on Magnus’ chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Magnus asks quietly, fingers threading through Alec’s hair.

“No,” Alec says, but the word lilts up at the end, drawn out a little too much.

“That’s the ‘no’ you say when you’re lying,” Magnus calls him out. He isn’t wrong.

And it isn’t that Alec doesn’t want to talk about things with Magnus, just that it’s so difficult for him to be vulnerable in front of anyone. He feels weak, even if he would never think someone else is weak for doing the same thing. He feels like nothing in his life is wrong enough to warrant what he’s experiencing right now.

Alec tries to think of where to start. His mind is blank, but not the peaceful kind - it’s the kind of blank where there’s so much happening all at once that he can’t pick out any one thing, and his brain stalls, all the while every little thing that’s wrong sounds off in his head until it’s all just deafening static.

He can’t describe that, though, so when Alec does open his mouth to respond what comes out is a broken sob.

He does more crying than talking, and Magnus is perfect throughout the entire thing. He rubs a hand comfortingly up and down Alec’s arm, he listens when Alec does manage to put some of his thoughts into words and shares the silence around Alec’s sniffles when Alec’s words fail him. Every so often Magnus asks a question, trying to help Alec pinpoint specific things that may be bothering him more than others, but mostly he’s just there, grounding and present.

It’s exactly what Alec needs.

He’s never had someone he’s felt comfortable enough to open up to like this before. He can count on one hand the number of times he’s cried in front of people who aren’t Magnus. He doesn’t need any fingers to count the number of people who know as much about him as Magnus does.

And right now, at this moment, being surrounded by all his comfort items while being held by his comfort person is all he needs to feel safe enough to let it all go for a little while. He cries, talks, and cries a little more. They even manage to laugh a little. Magnus peppers frequent kisses onto the top of Alec’s hair and Alec holds onto Magnus a little tighter with every overwhelming wave of emotion to anchor himself.

Finally, with everything out in the open and the last of his tears drying on his cheeks, Alec pries himself away from Magnus.

“Thank you,” Alec says, relief evident in every syllable.

“I barely did anything,” Magnus says.

“You did exactly what I needed,” Alec insists, shifting where he sits so he can bring a hand up to cup the side of Magnus’ face, pulling him in for a soft kiss.

Alec knows his biggest problem is bottling everything up, and he hopes that Magnus realizes how much it means to Alec to have an outlet and, more importantly, a confidant. He remembers countless breakdowns alone in his room, curled up in bed or lying on the floor, lost in the constant spiral of his own thoughts without anyone to help him through them. Just having someone, having Magnus, makes all the difference in the world. 

The world around Alec expects so much from him. His parents expect perfection. The other Shadowhunters expect a confident leader. But Magnus? All Magnus ever expects of him is honesty and love to the best of his ability. To have someone he can turn to and admit that sometimes it all feels too much? It’s priceless. It’s something Alec never imagined having and something he doesn’t take for granted. 

“This was perfect. You are perfect.”

Alec leans against Magnus again, breathing easily once more with the knowledge that every time he starts to feel like he’s breaking, Magnus will be there to hold the pieces until they can put them back together, together.

#malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #tsc #shadowhunters #tw: anxiety #tw: anxiety attack #we are fully projecting into writing on this fine Wednesday night #elle writes a few deadbeat lines

[heavenlyhischier]

and how would matthew react if you had an anxiety attack

i think he’d be a little scared at first and wouldn’t know what to do. he would try and remember anything he’d seen on the internet to help you get through it, but i feel like the first time he saw it, he wouldn’t be much help and he would feel so guilty. he’d feel like he let you down, so he would ask you what he needs to do. he never wants to be so helpless again.

#anon #⭃ abby answers asks #matthew tkachuk #tw: anxiety attack

[5t4r5and5uch01]

Part 3!

THIS IS PART 3!

Part 1: (Masterpost)

Part 2:

#tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety attack #tmnt #tmnt mutant mayhem #mutant mayhem angst

[the-nymphvallien-universe]

Going Through It - A Chatlog

The following chatlog is in a format that's a bit weird, so I'm going to post it as a series of images. If you can't read images, find the format a bit cumbersome, or hell, just want to read it in dark mode, a transcript with a simplified format and corrected spelling is available here.

Content warnings: anxiety, panic attacks, discussions of death and self harm.

This text contains deliberate typos and grammatical errors

#fiction #nymphvallien universe #chatlog #writing #artwork #sonwy koren #todoroki amene #tw: anxiety #tw: panic attack #tw: anxiety attack #tw: death #tw: death mention #tw: self harm #tw: self harm mention

[ghostie000]

spencer reid as a psychiatrist/psychotherapist. after the BAU he decides to give treating people in the early stages of criminal development a try rather than stopping them when it’s already too late. he’s always tried to save who he could, always had compassion for certain people who lost their way.    he works in residential care and specializes in personality disorders. he uses dialectical behavioral therapy, schema therapy, and humanistic therapy, a combo that helps his patients first to improve the high baseline pain of their lives, and then begin to pick apart their development and trauma, and finally what they might want out of life.    he’s extremely compassionate but he also has expectations and solid boundaries, and the two are sides of one coin. he provides the first healthy relationship that many of his patients have ever had. his analytical mind coupled and his outsider’s understanding of social skills and cues, give him objectivity, but his compassion, warmth, gentleness make him instantly trustworthy.    his BAU experience means he can find out the truth and get anyone talking, and that no one can scare him, which goes a long way toward not rewarding attempts to intimidate. there’s also that tiny part of him that understands rage and deviance. but he can also see through the behavioral problems to the scared, hurting kid in a patient with destructive behaviors, and give them comfort and reassurance, and also teach them to meet their needs in better ways, and reinforce good choices.    he can make the scariest person cry in his arms. he talks people who have drowned emotion their whole lives by intimidating others through new emotions and anxiety attacks. he knows that learning new ways of coping and leaving behind bad ones is terrifying, he expects relapses, and he never gives up on anyone. he’ll take care of the same patient as many times as necessary. he can’t fix everything, but he can produce huge improvements, and most patients see large gains in independence and quality of life

#idk this is just a nice thought for me + i love spencer #spencer reid #criminal minds #ask to tag #tw: anxiety attack #tw: trauma #my bpd ass writing my fantasy therapist + i believe in rehabilitative justice so #spencer would be so good at this #i want this show #pls

[wandamaxim0f]

Heartbreak rant below👇

Soooo, apparently I have THE biggest crush on my best friend and tonight we went out and I saw him making out with another girl from our little going out group and that's how I find out I have a crush on him. It ruined my night to the point where I've been nauseous for hours and I had an anxiety attack. Worst thing is, he was never so physically close to me until tonight, and I was thinking oh well maybe...🥰 But then it all went to hell and he was the SWEETEST, spent the better part of the night with me and hugging me and making sure I'm alright and those were the only moments in which I didn't feel this awful (and the other part of the night he spent it making out with this girl, who's actually lovely)

I'm so heartbroken it terrifies me, because I don't remember the last time I felt like this because of a boy, and because I hadn't realized I liked him until now; my brain had been "what if...?" And I was like "DON'T EVEN THINK OF GOING THERE" and now I just want to cry and throw up

#mar rambles #tw: anxiety #tw: anxiety attack

[fevertowrite]

turtle tenderloin

Summary: Donnie doesn't remember yelling for help; he can barely register what the Mini-Meat Sweats are saying to him – if they are even talking to him – all he can hear is the ringing of his ears and his body feeling like it's on fire. He needs fresh air – he needs to get out.

Takes place in-between the episode Donnie's Gifts, where the Mini-Meat Sweats have him on a spit, ready to be cooked. One-shot

x

The multiple Mini-Meat Sweats, no thanks to the Silver Fish powers, spots Donnie, grab him by his ankle, and reel him to the ground. Hands, so many tiny hands are on him. There are too many hands that, to get away, he fails terribly. He hates being touched, and now it feels like a million little crawly hands are on him, and he wants to gag. 

Donnie doesn't remember yelling for help; he can barely register what the Mini-Meat Sweats are saying to him – if they are even talking to him – all he can hear is the ringing of his ears and his body feeling like it's on fire. He needs fresh air – he needs to get out.

He watches as he's dragged away from his brothers to when he's finally led to the big cauldron in the middle of the room. 

It doesn't register to him with what's going on; his hands are flailing, his legs are kicking, and he knows he's in a fight or flight situation. He needs to calm down. 

Don tries to find comfort in his battle shell, the tightness around his shoulders, and the reassurance around his shell; it protects him. 

It may not be enough. 

He's still not registering with what's going on; Donnie tries to think of his battle shell pressing against his own, the comfort, anything to calm him down – but he hears the recognizable pffff of his battle shell and feels the cold air wrap around his now naked softshell. 

He blinks, barely registering the fact he's on some sort of spit and keeping him on there is…sausage links? Were they cooking him alive?!

He struggles under the restraints; he's been doing that for too long now, struggling. And he's losing the battle; he should've fought the Mini-Meat Sweats before putting him on the spit; he should've done more than to be where he's at currently. 

The Mini-Meat Sweats glows and transforms back to his old Pork Rind self. 

Despite the fogginess in his mind and outgrowing fear that he has to get the fuck out, it deems to him that his brothers must have stopped fighting. It's the only reason Meat Sweats transformed back to himself, so his brothers should be coming. They're coming. 

The fear and anxiety don't stop, though; seconds turn to minutes, and Meat Sweats is prepping him; he's going to be cooked. Meat Sweats grabs a pound of butter, and Donnie wants to laugh. There's no way this guy is serious, there's no – 

Don physically gags when the butter pours on him, like gravy to mashed potatoes. He feels sick, his face paling two shades lighter. He's going to be eaten alive. 

Panicked, he lost count of when his brothers were supposed to come to the rescue. They should be in the area – somewhere. But instead, the pot's steam makes him nauseous, and the sticky butter makes him physically recoil. He hates sticky substances, feeling sticky, the smell and the heat coming below him, and can this thing stop spinning him around?

He can twist his hand and type on his tech watch despite his hands being tied. He dials Raph, desperate for someone to answer. While calling, Meat Sweats is making some seasoning; he smells garlic, onions, and paprika, and his stomach churns again – answer, please answer, please – 

"Ooh, hey buddy! Hey. Um. Really loving the gifts you got us." Don hears Raph chuckle nervously, "Yeah, we…we know how long it took you to make 'em, and it was so thoughtful." 

Whatever Raph's saying, Donnie isn't listening, "Get me out of here; he's about to eat me alive!" He yells, still struggling to get out of the sausage links. He feels the wire scrap on his softshell, he hates feeling so damn useless and asking for help, but his brothers never came for him. He can't feel bad about himself right now and can't psych himself out as to why his brothers abandoned him – his goal is to make it out alive. 

Raph doesn't hear him and asks to repeat what he said. Donnie literally wants to scream, "Where did you guys go?" He cries out, "They're gonna cook me alive!" 

Raph doesn't answer, but Donnie hears them talking. His brothers are useless, he's useless, he is done for, his heart falls to his stomach, and his ears are back to ringing. 

"Mm. A delicate soft shell. A sprinkle of paprika should unleash the flavor!" 

He comes over to Donnie, sprinkling the turtle with the homemade seasoning and some in the boiling water. 

"I promise, I won't taste good; I'm all sweaty and gross and –"Donnie is doing everything he can so Meat Sweats can back off, but it's no use. He sounds so winded and out of breath; he hates feeling weak and sounding so weak. He feels like he's practically begging, but Meat Sweats' goal is to eat him – and eat him good.

"Don't worry, Laddy, I can make anything scrumptious." He grabs a knife in one hand and carrots in another and starts chopping them in the water. "Y'know, soft shells are rare." He tells him like Donnie doesn't know, and mutant soft shells are even rarer. He sees Meat Sweats literally drool at the thought of it, and it's making Donnie sick again. 

He still struggles against the sausage links and may be a bit cartoonish, but he really did hope the butter would make him slide out of it. But nope – he's still raveled in between, and when the water starts to bubble and pop, he knows it's ready for him. 

His shell starts to burn, the steam suffocating him. He's sweating, his head starts to feel lightheaded, and he no longer struggles with the restraints. He's accepted it; his brothers aren't coming, he hears them try to make a plan, and he mutters he's still on speaker, but no answer. Finally, he closes his eyes; this is it – he's done for. 

x

After minutes, Donnie hears his brothers in the room; he doesn't know if he should yell, cry, or be relieved; he wants nothing and everything to do with them.

"Hey, Meat Sweats." He hears Mikey faintly, the steam burns his eyes, but he opens them for a quick second.

"Distraction-Jitsu!" Raph says, or at least he thinks it's Raph. But, then, someone grabs him out of the spit. He blinked a few times, letting the tears fall – he was not crying; his eyes were literally being burned.

Once they leave the room, Donnie struggles against him. 

"Hey, hey, buddy, you're okay now. You're okay –" 

"Let go of me," His voice shakes and he hears the hesitation in Raph's breath, but he needs to breathe, he needs to – 

Raph doesn't argue, and Donnie's not sure if it's because he knows better or that Meat Sweats is chasing them and doesn't want to talk about it. Whatever it is, he's thankful there's no rebuttal, and Raph lets him go. 

Donnie leans into the cool tiled floor, unknowingly catching his breath. Breathing just steam was hard; being seasoned and the butter being – and still clinging – on him was hard. He just needs a minute. 

Raph doesn't even have a minute to unwrap him out of the sausage links before Meat Sweats literally pushes him away from Donnie. He watches his brothers fight, too tired to restrain from the sausage links. Someone will get him out of it; the adrenaline wears off and leaves him in a pile of goo. 

He's gonna be okay, he tells himself; they can go home, he can take a long bath and wear his comfort prosthetic and his purple hoodie. He's okay; his brothers have his back even in moments when they fail him. 

He just needs to catch his breath. 

#tw: anxiety attack #in case cause he def is having one #anyway i had this idea for years and finally caved in #rottmnt #tmnt #donnie's gifts #donnie #meat sweats #i mean there was a good moment of him being alone w meat sweats so i had to #rise!donnie #panic #anxiety #tmnt fanfiction #donatello #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #fever writes