Me: Welp, Time To Write S/I Into My First Selfship Fic With F/O! Cant Wait To See How Fluffy Its Going

me: Welp, time to write S/I into my first selfship fic with F/O! Can’t wait to see how fluffy it’s going to turn out!

~ one… fic… later… ~

me: As it turns out, S/I is barely breathing because of a stab wound and F/O is covered in their blood as they sob S/I’s name.

Imagine your parental f/o(s) singing Graham’s Lullaby (King’s Quest) to you…

TW: past abuse. trauma theme.

—- + -—

Whatever happened in the past, it robbed you of something. Choices were so fickle, people were so hard to please, and it took a great toll on you blindly walking on eggshells everyday.

You should’ve seen the look in your F/O’s eyes when they learnt of this. It wasn’t a crazy or disgusted look, never. It was just… hollow and lost. A labyrinth of feelings spearing through them: rage at the person(s) who did this, painful vulnerability that they weren’t there to shield their beloved, utter confusion at why anybody would even dare to think such things of you— much less act them out… and determination. The determination to show you that you can and have proved your abuser wrong.

Your F/O is there to commemorate the good days. They’ll greet each beautiful morning and send off each graceful night with your stunning smile in mind. Even when the moment comes that you doubt your past, they make sure to come close — whether literally or figuratively — and list off all of the amazing things you were able to do despite the pain brought by people who were supposed to cherish you (even if you think the only remarkable thing you did was getting out of bed for two seconds.) The past tried to destroy you, and you endured even when it seemed hopeless. It’s okay to rest now, your F/O loves each and every “broken” part of you.

Your F/O is there to remind you you’re not alone when the world has chosen you to play Atlas. No matter how much you could try to convince them otherwise, they’ll always reply with a gentle (yet pointed) look, because “Even if this is you being a burden, I’d still carry something ten times heavier just to spend a few moments with you.” They’ll encourage you to allow yourself soft moments… coax you to let down your walls around them— as far as you’re comfortable, of course… happily give you small reasons to greet each day alongside them… ease in each and every awe-inspiring thing about you so you can at least see a fraction of yourself the way they see you…

Your F/O is simply, endlessly, lovingly there.

when one person in a couple takes on a more monstrous/scary form (especially for the sake of protecting the other person) and they're so worried about the other person seeing them and being disgusted at the sight of them but when the other person does see them they're so gentle and so patient and they just want to make sure their beloved is okay and maybe even ground them if their monstrous form is overwhelming for them and it's just. you know

A muttered curse interrupts you and your F/O’s conversation. Where soft words were once flowing so lightly in the morning kitchen light, a tense silence now stood.

“…F/O?”

Your beloved rushes to the nearest sink, dipping their hand under the rushing tap water. “That knife— Love, could you get me a band-aid?”

Your heartbeat quickens, yet you retrieve the nearest first-aid your F/O might need, soft words whispered as your body presses up against theirs. Think about how vulnerable they allow themself to be with you, eyes shying away from their cut. So relaxed and loving, they wholly trust in you to take care of them. Despite the blood or equivalent that might be coming from the cut, you gingerly cover it with the utmost care— so focused, you probably missed that soft gaze and appreciative blush your F/O is helpless to hide.

“And… boom. Disaster averted.” You give their ‘wound’ one last look until you send a reassuring smile your beloved’s way.

“Thank you, love.” Maybe the words were barely audible in their stoic silence as they attempted to rip their flustered gaze away from you, or they had a grin of their own just by being so tenderly cared for by none other than their favorite person. “Now I have to figure out how to cut those—”

Your soft hold on their wrist stops them from turning away. “Wait! You forgot the last step.”

“What?” they reply, a clueless gaze directed at their own finger.

“This…” You clasp your F/O’s hurt hand oh-so gingerly, yet your velvet-like touch against their skin leaves electricity dancing up and down their arm. You leave a feather-soft kiss against their band-aid, then pressing your lips to their knuckles, too. Your F/O — no matter how stoic or flirty they normally might be — freezes in a heartstring-pulling stupor, having to perform a full reboot (whether literally or figuratively) before they can even think of stuttering out a response. All they can see is you, the love of their life, and there’s nothing they’d rather be graced with.

They’d ask how someone like them ended up with an ethereal being like you, but they don’t want to tempt the fates. Your F/O would much rather spend their time basking in your presence, endlessly thankful for being able to exist alongside you.

i want to be inconvenienced by you. i want to wait for you, i want to hold your things while you do something else, i want to make adjustments to my plans to make space for you. someone at your side who takes up no space and has no needs of their own is not a person, but a shadow. i don't want a shadow, i want you. i want my life to be altered by your presence in it. please, inconvenience me.