#or if I will say hey they’re just nightmares. I’m okay. I’m here I’m breathing and it’s another day

[angelnumber27]

I’ve been so much more just.. idk happy I guess in general lately and I am so beyond thankful

[kairakeiji]

[03:33]

“please don’t.”

his voice is nothing but a whisper, but it’s enough to stir you awake from your sleep.

“don’t leave me.”

you search for his body in bed, a gentle hand wandering through the sheets in search of warmth. you find childe in your sleepy haze, worry rushing through your system when you hear his words.

“i don’t care about anyone else, but you…you can’t leave.”

you shuffle in bed to face him, rubbing your eyes as you sit up only to see his trembling body as his pleas echo in his sleep.

“please…”

your hand reaches toward his cheek, sucking in a breath when you realize it’s stained with his tears. he’s shaking, sniffles rack through his body as his desperate cries grow softer and softer.

“hey,” you whisper as your hand traces back to his arm. “wake up.”

he doesn’t hear your words, still stuck in his supposed nightmare.

“ajax,” you call out, “wake up, it’s only a dream, wake up.” you shake him a little more, pushing him onto his back before watching carefully as his sniffles begin to die down and his eyes blearily open. he stares up at you wordlessly, “hi,” you smile. “it was only a nightmare, you’re safe.”

and that’s all you need to say before he sits up and holds you tightly in his arms.

nightmares were rather common for him. considering his job and desire for battle, it’s safe to say he’s been in hundreds of dangerous situations in the past. but even if he holds a strong front, it didn’t mean that the blood and battle were something so superficial. the vivid memories often make their way into his peaceful slumber, timid mumbles leave his lips as comrades and foes alike die in front of him. he’s spoken in his sleep before. normally they’re halfhearted words in battle, last words to people he knew were going to die, or whispered regrets that only he got to know.

but they were never like this, never to the extent where he cried and shook and begged.

his tight grip on you catches you off guard before you wrap your arms around him, rubbing circles in his back while you whisper reassurance. he’s still sniffling, trembling slightly as the small sounds ring throughout the room.

“you’re okay,” you whisper, just as you had done countless nights before. “you’re fine, it was only a dream.” he pulls away slowly, meeting your eyes. “do you wanna tell me what it was about?” you question.

“don’t leave me.”

your eyes widen at his words, “i would never,” you tell him as your hands cup his cheeks. “i love you, i’m not going anywhere.”

he hesitates, “even if i’m reckless and get into dangerous situations?”

“i’ll be here to take care of your wounds.”

“even if i’m not the most amazing guy.”

you can’t help but laugh, “you’re amazing to me.”

“even if-”

but before he can finish his thought, you press your lips to his, a deep, gentle kiss that seems to tell the boy everything he needs to know.

i’m not going anywhere, no matter what.

his arms still remain circled around your figure, but you don’t miss the way his grip slightly tightens, almost as if he’s scared of letting you go because if he does, you might just go back on your words.

so you tell him once more when you pull away. “no matter what happens, i’m not leaving, i promise.”

he sighs as a small smile graces his lips, one that makes your heart swell. “you know you can’t go back on a promise right?”

“i have no intention to,” you tell him gently as you reach up to his face, wiping away the last of his tears. “i love you, nothing’s changing that.”

he only shakes his head, “you’re too good for this world, you know that?” he sighs. “you stay when everyone leaves.” he meets your eyes, “you’re all i’ve ever needed.”

and your heart seems to pick up at his words. “did i leave you in your dream?” you mumble.

but he only pulls you back in his arms. “stay,” he whispers. “i don’t care what you do, just please, stay with me.”

you only sigh as your arms wrap around him.

“okay,” you nod. “i’ll stay.”

sob sob vulnerable childe...

thanks for reading! reblogs/interaction are incredibly appreciated <3

[loveinhawkins]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

When they reach his house, the first thing Dustin does is switch the shower on until the water runs hot, because Steve started shivering on the drive over, and Eddie kept glancing over at him in deep concern whenever he gave a more intense shudder, his wet clothes sticking to the back of his seat.

After agreeing to stay over, Steve had slipped into an eerie kind of calm, drifting upstairs to his room to get some dry clothes, doubling back for his toothbrush with a self-directed sigh of exasperation.

He’s quiet as Dustin shows him the shower dial, and even though he nods and smiles, at least, his eyes always land just to the left of Dustin, not quite looking at him.

Dustin tries not to let it sting.

He just blasts a hairdryer in his room to warm himself up, hasn’t got as drenched by the rain as Steve did.

He’s heading to the living room when he hears voices—

“…long has it been like this?”

—and stops.

“I—I don’t. Not. Not all the time.”

“So long enough then. What, are we talking weeks? Months?”

There’s a horrible silence.

“Oh, Steve. Fuck, man, don’t say it’s been years.”

“Okay, I won’t.”

Eddie’s voice wavers when he asks, “On your own?”, like he’s fighting tears. That’s just his way, Dustin thinks. Heart on his sleeve.

“Well. Yeah.”

Steve’s words are clipped, as if he’s irritated, but Dustin gets the feeling that it’s more Steve forcibly trying to stop anything more from spilling out.

“Eddie. Come on, don’t look at me like that.”

Eddie laughs, shattered at the edges. “Can’t control my face, Harrington, ‘fraid I can’t help you there.”

“I mean it, it’s not like—it’s not been that bad all the fucking time, you know? Just. Lately, it’s. Got worse.”

Dustin silently presses his back against the wall and sinks down to the floor. A part of him feels embarrassed that he’s eavesdropping like a little kid, but he can’t help it. If he reveals himself now, he has the sudden fear that Steve will stop talking for a long while.

Eddie breathes in. Out. “In what way?”

“Like. Nightmares and stuff.”

“So walk me through it?”

“Eddie…”

“What? Didn’t know I had the monopoly on sharing fucked up dreams.”

“It’s… I don’t remember all of them. Just… just the feeling when I wake up, it’s…” Dustin hears Steve take a shaky breath, muffled like his hand is briefly covering his mouth. “It’s spreading.”

“…Spreading?”

“I can’t stop it anymore.” Suddenly it’s as if Eddie’s simple prompting has made something inside Steve snap; he’s really talking now, rapid-fire, like he’s running out of time. “I wake up, and I can’t—I just know that I’ve… I’ve fucked up somehow. That I’ve… I’ve lost. Someone. Everyone. Feels like the fucking walls are closing in. It’s—it’s when I’m awake, too. I can’t stop thinking—a-and it’s not even Upside Down shit, not all the time. It’s… Robin was late to work once, and something told me that she—she was dead, and I…”

A creak of someone sitting down on the couch. The soft rustle of fabric. Dustin doesn’t need to see to know that Steve and Eddie are sitting next to one another—that from the fragile way Steve exhales, Eddie is hugging him.

“Christ, Steve. That’s… no-one can just—just deal with that alone, okay? That shit’s poison.”

Steve laughs brokenly. “I can’t just—what else am I supposed to—Eddie, it’s everywhere, it’s—I wake up and I check every fucking car wreck on the news, ‘cause I just—I just have this awful feeling that. That the kids, they’ve…”

Dustin thinks of Steve jokingly scolding them whenever they’re late for him to pick them up, his routine call of, “Hey, shitheads! Seatbelts on or you’re walking.” He feels sick.

“But last night, it…” Eddie sounds tentative. “It was worse?”

“Just… nightmare. Upside Down.”

But the return of the clipped tone to Steve’s voice betrays that there’s more to it.

“Steve.”

It’s kind of amazing, Dustin thinks, how just by saying Steve’s name, it somehow sounds like Eddie is saying, Please tell me and I’m here—and probably more.

“I’ve…” Steve inhales sharply. “I’ve never dreamt that you—that you made it before. You’re always… I’m always too late, and you’re dying, or you’re already dead, but…”

Eddie sounds a bit shaky, too. “But?”

“Not last night. I thought—I fucking thought it was better, it was all quiet, and there were dead bats on the ground, and I was at your trailer, and you were opening the door, you’d made it, and… And then you. You said.”

“Okay, take a breath—”

“You said, ‘One got in.’ That’s all you kept saying one got in, and I was fucking shaking you, trying to help you snap out of it, and… Then I saw what you meant. That. That Dustin.”

“Oh God.”

“It had sliced through his neck. Eddie, he wouldn’t. Wouldn’t stop bleeding.”

“All right. Hey, I’ve got you, just—”

“And then I woke up. And I… I thought. And when I-I went to check—”

“The phone wouldn’t work.”

“Yeah. Think I lost it, a bit.” A deep, weary sigh. “Embarrassing.”

“It’s not. Steve, I fucking promise you that it’s not.”

“Then I… I don’t know. Think I threw up, maybe twice. Drove until I. Until I couldn’t.”

Another creak. Eddie getting off the couch. Footsteps. Running water.

“Here. You’re probably dehydrated to hell.”

Slow sips.

“Hey, Steve. Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For telling me.”

A silence goes on for long enough that Dustin feels he wouldn’t be intruding, if he entered. But he waits. Just in case.

There’s a little miaow by his feet. Tews, blinking slowly up at him.

Dustin gently nudges him towards the living room until he obligingly trots inside.

The reaction is instant.

“Baby,” Eddie says reverently, and Dustin nearly laughs because oh, that’s right; they’ve not met before.

Steve chuckles, makes a soft, encouraging clicking noise. “Hey, bud.”

Dustin stands up. His mom told him once that cats can sense when someone’s in pain, even if they’re silent about it.

When he enters the living room, Tews is curled up in Steve’s lap, purring loudly. Eddie’s got one arm flung across the couch, resting just behind Steve’s head; with his other hand, he’s scratching Tews—the favoured spot, right under the chin.

Steve looks like he might—not sleep, not exactly, but that he might doze off a little.

Dustin doesn’t bother being that quiet, remembers one time when they’d all taken over Steve’s couches, watching movies, and he’d made fun of Steve for his eyelids drooping within the first thirty minutes.

“Can’t help it, dude. When you little shits talk, it’s like white noise,” Steve had said—which at the time, he’d made it sound like an insult, but now Dustin can see that there’s some truth in it.

He lifts a take-out menu off the fridge, folds it into an aeroplane and throws it at Eddie’s chest.

“I’m starving.”

Steve sinks a little more into the couch. His head tips back slightly, and then Eddie’s fingers are lightly skimming through Steve’s hair.

Eddie laughs quietly, takes the menu and says, all hushed and theatrical, “Why, boy, you’re naught but skin and bone!”

Then he smiles, and his head tilts just a bit in acknowledgement—like he knows Dustin had given them the time alone.

[vendetta-if]

Okay... Every. Single. Time. I see the hickey ask on an IF blog I follow, I feel the NEED to post this follow up:

What if very shortly after that, the ROs catch / hear the MC asking someone (or even if the MC asks THEM, depending on the context) if they have something to soothe mild allergic reactions to mosquito bites, because they got one on their neck.

So basically, how would they react when faced to the reveal it wasn't a hickey at all but a dumb mosquito bite!

Here goes out to all of you hickey anons and non-anons 🤭❤️ Also, the link to the infamous hickey ask is here for those who haven’t read it!

Ash

“Wait, wait, Ash!” They hear MC calls out to them and they stop in place. Oh, how they just want to bolt away from this nightmare, but maybe this is also a chance to just face it head-on.

“Ash, what’s wrong?” MC asks as Ash turns around to face them. Ash doesn’t really know what kind of face they’re wearing right now.

“Who was it, MC?” They ask, voice hoarse.

“Who, what?” MC asks in genuine confusion, which just irritates Ash even more.

“The one—The one who gave you… those marks!” They gesture at MC’s neck.

MC’s eyes widen. “What?! No! Nobody gave me these marks. These are goddamn mosquito bites,” MC explains as they scratch their neck. “I swear once I get my hands on those bastards…” They mutter under their breath.

Ash just stands there dumbfounded. “M—Mosquitoes?” Those are not… They glance down and just notice MC is holding a can of bug spray. Oh… Oh no… How could you think the worst of MC, Ash?

“Yeah, pesky bastards. Don’t tell me you didn’t have any in your room last night?” MC says, scanning Ash up and down for a second before concluding, “Oh, you didn’t, don’t you?”

“N—No,” Ash replies truthfully.

“Motherfuckers probably thought your blood is too hot to drink or something,” MC mumbles irritatedly. “Well, I’m gonna spray the whole penthouse now, if you don’t mind.” MC raises the can in their hand like a weapon.

“Uh… Yeah, please do that,” Ash says stupidly. “And, uh… Just forgot what I said earlier…” A surge of relief washes through their whole body, but it soon gets tainted by embarrassment.

“Aww, were you jealous?” MC smirks teasingly.

“Uh—Um…” Ash stammers. “I—I gotta go! See you later, MC!” They splutter in panic before bolting away for real this time.

Oh my God, MC is not gonna let them live this down, won’t they…

Rin

Rin decides not to embarrass themself further and chooses to just ignore MC, pretending not to see or notice them entering the room. They’re not going to lower themself to ask MC about the marks.

Honestly, they’d rather MC leave them alone for now. But of course, the opposite of what they want always happen. They groan inwardly as they see MC walking over to where they’re standing from the corner of their eye.

They steel themself for an unwanted conversation. They’re good at that.

“Hey, Rin,” MC greets them and they just grunt softly in reply. MC doesn’t even notice their curt reply, seemingly distracted by something else.

Oh, I bet their mind is still filled by whatever happened last night…

“Uh, this might be a weird question,” MC begins sheepishly as Rin just keeps staring at them unamusedly. “But, do you know any kind of salve or medicine that can help with these mosquito bites?” They ask, scratching at the marks on their neck.

Rin blinks. There’s no way that excuse would work on them. “Really?” They reply skeptically as they gesture at MC’s neck. “You’re bitten by mosquitoes in your penthouse?”

“I know right? I don’t even know how they managed to get in considering my penthouse is like… at the top floor of a skyscraper,” MC agrees, missing the point Rin is insinuating. “Probably through the elevator or the air vent or something. Anyway, Uncle Luka said he’ll personally get a professional pest extermination service to deal with that.”

Well, Rin did catch their father talking with Luka on the phone about choices of professional pest extermination services available in the city. For some reason, Luka asked their dad as if he knows anything more about it than Luka does. Maybe MC is telling the truth and it’s their paranoia and distrust running rampant once again…

Rin uncrosses their arms—when did they even cross them in the first place? “Uh… Tiger balm works wonder for bug bites,” Rin advises.

“Tiger balm, huh?” MC repeats. “Alright, I’ll just go get it at the nearest drug store. Be right back,” they say before swiftly making their way to the elevator.

Meanwhile Rin is left standing there, still processing what has just happened in the span of a few minutes.

Santana

“Hey, Santana!” MC greets them as they walk over to where Santana is standing.

Santana is already cringing inside at the potential awkwardness of the conversation. They’ll still try their best to try talk normally with MC, but it’s kinda hard with the hickeys still heavy in their mind.

“Um… Hi, MC,” they greet back cordially.

“So, how was your night? Had enough sleep?” MC asks them.

“Well, like usual,” they answer distractedly. “How about you? Seems like you had a wild night…” They gesture at the general direction of MC’s neck.

Oh my God, Santana! What the heck are you doing? Asking about the thing you wanted to avoid talking in the first place?! You idiot!

“Oh, you won’t believe this,” MC begins enthusiastically. “So, I was sleeping pretty soundly for like half the night, before my neck started to feel really itchy. I kept getting dragged out of sleep as I scratched at it. Woke up the next morning, and lo and behold, I just got frickin bitten by the most vicious mosquitoes of Elysium City,” they complain, tilting their head a bit to show them of the “hickeys” which turn out to be mosquito bites.

“Huh?” Santana remarks intelligently as they stare at the marks. Okay, now that they can see them better and closer, they do seem like bug bites instead of hickeys.

“I know right?” MC agrees, with… what? Santana is not sure because their mind is blank right now. “Don’t ask me how the mosquitoes managed to break into my penthouse, which, mind you, is located at the top of a skyscraper.”

“That… That is indeed weird,” Santana replies, chuckling in a mix of amusement and relief. It seems like their fear is unfounded after all.

MC continues their rant about the pesky mosquitoes and their plan on eradicating them from their penthouse. Santana just smiles softly as they listen to every word.

Skylar

Skylar quickly makes their way to MC before anyone else manage to make a conversation with them. MC stops in their track as they notice Skylar approaching.

“Hey, MC!” Skylar greets in faux-cheeriness.

“Oh, hey, Skylar,” MC greets back. “What’s up?”

“Well, I should be the one asking you that,” Skylar says, the grin on their face feels very strained but they hope it won’t show and that it still looks charming on the surface. “Who’s the lucky person?” They ask straight to the point, gesturing at the general area of MC’s neck.

“Certainly not me,” MC groans as they rub at their neck. “Just had one of the worst nights of the month.”

“Oh?” Skylar prompts, hopefulness crammed into that one single sound.

Inside, they’re gleeful though. It seems like whoever MC was sleeping with last night must’ve sucked balls—no possible pun intended. Well, this is their time to shine! Skylar would be more than happy to show MC how it’s really done!

“Yeah! I kept waking up at the middle of the night because these annoying mosquito bites were so damn itchy!” MC complains, scratching at their neck again.

Skylar nods before stopping. Wait, what? Mosquito bites? “What?” They ask, dumbfounded. The marks… they’re not…

MC doesn’t seem to notice Skylar’s confusion as they continue ranting, “I don’t even know how they managed to get in! My penthouse is located at the top of a fricking skyscraper!”

A sense of relief floods through Skylar, and their strained grin has shifted into a mischievous one. “Well, I know of a remedy to help with the bites.”

“Wait, really?” MC looks at them curiously. “What’s that?”

“I heard kisses can work wonder.” Skylar winks before pursing their lips and making kissy noises. “I’m always available to help, you know. Just give me a call whenever you’re ready.”

Skylar can practically see the blood surging up to MC’s cheeks. “Y—You—” they stammer. “You idiot! T—That’s not real! If you’re not going to help, then I’ll go to buy some real medicine for these bites instead!” MC harrumphs adorably, turning away to walk to the elevator.

Aww, MC is soo cute! It makes Skylar feels warm and gooey inside as they chuckle to themself. “Well, my offer will always be open! Whether you have more bug bites in the future or not!” They call out to MC’s receding back.

MC doesn’t even turn and just flips them the middle finger instead before stepping inside the elevator. Oh, they love MC.

[alovesongtheywrote]

can i please ask for another part of nightmare academia if you can 😭😭 i need a pick me up so bad bc of exam week at my campus and i loveee your series sm!!!

sending love 🫶🫶

♥ Summary:  This should help! I hope your exams went well!! In this chapter of Nightmare Academia, Spencer makes up for past mistakes and you take him home. [Prof!Spencer Reid x GN-Prof!Reader]

♥ Warnings: mentions of the stab, guilt

♥ A/N: ok, we're getting goofy again- at least, for now

♥ Word Count: 1382

Series Masterlist

♥♥♥

You didn’t see Reid again until he came back to work.  You saw Penelope every now and then, and she kept you updated on his condition until she left, but you never saw Reid until he came back.  Once he did, all your mugs went missing.  Honestly, you were kind of proud.

You were hesitant to retrieve your stolen property- hesitant to see Reid again.  You stood outside his door for a good ten minutes before you even bothered to knock.  When you heard his voice through the door, telling you to come in, you almost turned tail and ran.

You were avoiding him, not because of your anger but because of your guilt.  You couldn’t stand seeing him hurt and motionless in the hospital, broken because of you- so you just avoided him.  It was the cowardly thing to do, but still, you did it.

Now, you needed to see him again- you needed to get your mugs back.  You needed coffee.  You pushed open the door.

Reid’s face lit up when he saw you.  His eyes were so bright, and his smile blinding.  You felt so guilty.

“Hey!  I haven’t seen you in a while, how are you?”

You weren’t entirely sure if his words were genuine, or if he was playing a game with you.  Either way, you could play along, “I’m here for my mugs, Reid.”

“I thought you’d say that.  Go back to your office, they’re already there.”

You tilted your head, “Not bad.  You took the base prank and elevated it.  Smart.”

Spencer shrugged, “Thanks.”

You paused halfway through the door, tapping a nonsense pattern into the wall outside his office.  Staying felt wrong, but you couldn’t leave.  Not yet.

“Hey, uh.  I’m sorry I didn’t visit you in the hospital.  I was-”

“(Y/N), I know what you did.”

You paused, looking up at him with wide eyes.  Yes, he knew what you did, you got him stabbed- did he know how guilty you felt about it?

“You covered my classes for me,” he picked up his own mug, “You were busy.  Don’t worry about it.”

You nodded, taking in a deep breath, “Perfect… And uh, are you- how are you settling in?”

You didn’t know a person’s smile could make you feel physically warm, but his did, “I’m doing okay.  I told you, I’ll be fine.”

“You did.  Just one of many things you’re right about, I guess.  And you- you aren’t hurt, right?”

He shook his head, “I told you, I’m okay.”  

“Good- perfect,” you paused, fingers still pressed against the wall, “Now tell me to get the hell out of your office.”

He laughed a little, taking a sip of his coffee, “Get the hell out of my office, Professor.”

“Good boy.”

You left, missing the delicious sight of Reid melting into an absolute puddle at your words.  He wondered, briefly, if you were trying to put him back in the hospital.  He could never tell when it came to you- but god, if you wanted to put him in the hospital, all you had to do was ask.

Upon returning to your office, you were met with the sight of two cardboard boxes on your desk.  One of them contained your mugs.  Inside the other, a 1960s Vintage Royal Empress Typewriter measuring about twelve inches in width and weighing thirty-three pounds and eight ounces.  You could feel the tears forming behind your eyes.  Your typewriter had been destroyed in the attack.  

Somehow, Reid had gone out and found you a new goddamn typewriter that was the exact same make and model as your old one.  You could kiss that damn bean-pole- you wanted to kiss that damn bean-pole.  

Your fingers brushed over the polished metal of the machine.  In the box, beside it, you found a note.

“I remember you said something about being in the market for a vintage typewriter.  I found this and thought you’d like it.  Feel free to use it the next time you get angry at me.”

It wasn’t signed, but you didn’t need a signature.  That was his handwriting.  He bought you a typewriter.  You got him stabbed, and he bought you a fucking typewriter.  Tears spilled down your cheeks as you took a seat at your desk.  

That evening, Spencer passed by your office on his way home.  He stood outside the door for a second, listening to the click of the keys beneath your fingers.  He stayed there for a while, in the otherwise silent hallway, letting the click of the keys promise him that you were nearby.  

He’d missed you, during his recovery.  He knew that you felt guilty.  He couldn’t forget what you said in the hospital.  He also knew that you were busy- you’d picked up his classes without a second thought, and while you had done an incredible job, he knew that couldn’t have been easy.  That hadn’t kept him from missing you, though.

He had to face that down, too- the fact that he could miss you so much after only hours of being away from you.  You’d settled in so nicely with everything else in his life.  He’d gotten used to you, and you were such a presence that nothing could come close to replacing you.  That probably wasn’t normal, but it was a therapy appointment for another day.

Until then, he would let himself listen to you type away at the machine he got you.  

He stayed in the hallway for a few short minutes, until the click of the keys stopped.  He barely noticed the change.  He did, however, notice you stepping out of your office with your bag slung over your shoulder.  You were clearly surprised to see him.  

“Shit!  Reid!  It’s you.  Fuck, you scared me.”

“Sorry,” he winced, “I didn’t mean to-”

“I know,” you swayed a little, side to side in the doorway, “But hey, it’s good that I caught you, I uh.  I wanted to say thanks.  You- you really didn’t have to get me a new typewriter, Reid.”

“Well, technically it isn’t new.  The Vintage Royal Empress line didn’t come out until-”

“Reid.  You know what I mean.  Thank you.”

“It’s no problem.  I mean, you saved my life, so-”

“Saved your life?” you scoffed, “Reid, you wouldn’t have gotten stabbed if it weren’t for me.”

“And I would have bled out if you hadn’t been there.”

“And you wouldn’t have been bleeding if it weren’t for me.”

“If it weren’t for you, what?  If it weren’t for you looking out for your students?  If it weren’t for you protecting Missy?  If it weren’t for you being smart enough to use the typewriter as a weapon?  Tell me, (Y/N), what did you do to get me stabbed?”

“I-” you were at a loss for words, “I’m sure there’s something I did, I just.  Can’t think of it.  Right now.”

Spencer smiled, “Maybe you just want to stab me.”

“No!” you practically jumped across the hallway, stopping right in front of Reid, “I do not want that.”

“Clearly.”

Your eyes darted down over Reid’s stomach, hovering over the location of the wound.  You couldn’t see it, but you remembered the red stain across his shirt, the pool of blood that got bigger and bigger no matter how hard you’d pressed down.  

Before you could even think of stopping yourself, your fingers brushed lightly against his torso.  Your touch was gentle- enough for him to feel, but not enough for him to flinch.  Inside your office, the lights flickered.  You only realized what you were doing when Spencer moved to wrap his hand around yours.

You jumped a little, shaking your head as you came back to your senses.

“Shit- I’m sorry, I um-”

“Don’t apologize,” Spencer’s voice was soft.  His eyes carried some sort of gentle confidence within them.

You squeezed his hand.

“Hey, you aren’t taking the train home, are you?”

“I am, why?”

“Because if someone elbows you in the wrong spot, you’re gonna bleed out on the train, and I’m gonna feel like shit about it.”

“That’s highly unlikely.  The stitches have already-”

“Spencer,” you stopped him, “You can tell me about it in the car.  Let me drive you home.”

On both accounts, he did.  

♥ Tags: @icarusignite, @usuallyunlikelyfox, @maraudersforlife2005, @fictionalcomforts, @morgthemagpie, @iiheartbowie, @digitalhearts, @corpsebridenightamare, if you asked to be tagged and i forgot, pls let me know!! if you would like to be tagged and aren't, also let me know :D

[erule]

High school heartbreaker | s.h.

Pairing: Steve Harrington x reader

Summary: You were in love with Steve when you were in high school together, but he didn’t know about that. Now you meet him by chance at college and you wonder if things could change.

Warnings: kinda rom-com with some clichés probably, unrequited love, A LOT of angst, fluff, mention of nose bleeding, mention of smoking, language, jealous!Steve, mutual pining in the end, happy ending, Robin, Eddie

Word count: 3K

A/N: hi! I wrote this based on a true experience, except for the fact that this ends well. Steve is my favourite character in Stranger Things and he was beyond perfect for this story. Feedback is always appreciated by a writer! Hope y’all like it. Enjoy! x

First day of college and you’re terrified.

Why? Well, let’s start from the beginning, shall we?

So, three months ago, you said goodbye to your school, then to your friends, then again to your best friend (who was supposed to go to college with you, before she betrayed you to follow the “cool guys”) and, last but not least, your high school crush. He was the first person you met on the bus on your first day of school, then he became your friend, but even if the two of you were never really close, somehow your heart managed to fall in love with him. The issue with that? He was in love with someone else. Of course. He dated Nancy Wheeler and you were just the friend that sometimes comforted him during their fights. You were important. So, the last day of school, you hugged him and said: “To new adventures, Steve. Maybe we’ll meet again in the future” and he just smirked at you. It was the moment you knew that he never loved you.

Anyway, now you’re on your own again after all of these years, while Steve’s probably far away with Nancy, having the time of his life. That’s how being a teenager should look like, right? Society tells it every day, but it doesn’t happen to everybody. You can also be alone and succeed, but it doesn’t mean that you’re lonely.

You finally arrive at class. The professor still has to come along, but people are already saying that he’s annoying. How great. You wonder what they’re thinking, while they’re talking with their friends. It seems like you’re the only one without one, as usual. High school was a lot of things, but at least you had your best friend to go through everything. Now it’s different. College can be scary, but you just have to breathe. So you take a deep breath, eyes closed, for three seconds. When you open your eyes, you see that the professor is entering into the room so you turn to your right in order to take your block notes.

“Hey,” somebody says and when you look up your heart begins to race faster than ever, while your brain still has to process who just spoke.

No way.

“What? The cat ate your tongue?”

Your eyes grow wide, but fortunately the professor ask for some silence to begin the lesson.

“Steve?”

He gives you a smile.

“The one and only”.

And this, this feeling of being on fire, is exactly how you know that your crush on somebody has never gone away.

You’re in the bathroom, door closed. This is not something that was supposed to happen today! How can he be at your college? Studying the same things as you? This has to be a nightmare. Does it mean that there’s also Nancy around the corner? No, this is going to become really painful really fast. You thought that you had already being punished enough, when you were forced to see him with Nancy every damn day for the last three years at school, but it seems that you weren’t.

You see a pair of shoes under the door and you gulp. Nancy?

“Hey, are you okay? You seemed pale when you arrived,” somebody says.

You’re so relieved that it’s not Nancy, that you open the door and hit the girl. She yells something, when you see that her nose is bleeding.

“Oh no, I’m so sorry! Here, take a napkin,” you say, but she shakes her head.

“Don’t worry, it’s not painful as when I saw my best friend wear a sailor’s uniform for work,” she said, but you just looked at her, confused. “Anyway, I hope that you’re okay”.

“Me? You’re literally bleeding!”

“It’s nothing. Some jokes on my friend and I’m gonna feel better instantly. You’ll see. Come with me, you should meet him,” she says, while looking at her nose in the mirror. Now it seems better.

“Okay, thanks. This day feels like a nightmare to me already,” you say. She furrows her eyebrows.

“Yeah? Why?”

“I don’t know anybody, except for my high school crush, who wasn’t supposed to be here anyway,” you confess her and now you feel relieved, somehow. Talking about it makes it seem more stupid and less of a problem.

“High school crushes are the worst, trust me, I have a lot of experience in this topic. But tell me more! Did you date them?”

“No, he was dating somebody else the whole time. It was exhausting,” you say, then you look at her and you wonder if you saw her in high school too. “What’s your name, again?”

“I didn’t tell you. I’m Robin!” She exclaims, before you stop in front of her friend, who’s smoking a cigarette with some guys outside the college. “What about you?”

You freeze.

“Robin?”

“Yeah. What happened? Are you okay?”

You swallow some air, when you look in front of you, only to see him winking at you.

“Is that your friend?” You ask her, pointing at him.

“Yeah! How do you know that?”

Fuck.  

“I’m…”

Absolutely screwed.  

“Y/N!” Steve says, while walking over you.

“Wait, you’re Y/N? The Y/N?” Robin asks and now you’re more confused than ever.

“How do you know me?”

“Y/N, apparently you met Robin. Robin, this is Y/N, we used to take the bus together. I don’t know if you had ever saw her with me in high school”.

“We weren’t really close in high school, Steve…” You say, feeling a burden over your chest.

“But I saw you,” Robin say, while observing your face. You probably look guilty, right now. Maybe she knew that you liked him, but she has now the confirmation of it.

“We used to take the bus together, that’s all,” you repeated.

“You know, I recall the once you asked me if we were friends and I told you no, but three months ago, when you said goodbye to me, I thought that we totally were. Things change, Y/N”.

Not everything, no. Not your love for him.

“It’s weird, because you used not to know a lot of things about me. You probably don’t even remember what I told you that day,” you say, but your heart knows that you’re lying, because you secretly hopes that he does. That he noticed you.

He shakes his head.

But sadly, you’re never wrong.

“I don’t. Was it important?” He asks you, while he lights up another cigarette.

Robin’s looking at you, but you pray that she can’t see your heart breaking into your eyes. It’s just water, after all. But before that, it’s glass in your eyes. Two pieces of glass that you hold with every strength you have in yourself.

“No, it wasn’t,” you say, with a smile. That fake smile made you survive high school with him.

Then, you apologize to them, but you’re “really busy”, so you “have to go” as far as possible away from this horrible situation. You run to your house, feeling too overwhelmed by everything to think straight, to say hi to your parents, to even breathe.

You were sure that he knew that you liked him more than as a friend in high school. You didn’t expect him to care, you didn’t even want him to acknowledge it with you, but that was enough. He crossed the line, when he tried to be charming again, even if he had a girlfriend. When he winked at you, as he did every damn day in high school. When he tried to be funny with you. You just want some peace.

Two weeks after that, though, you find yourself following Steve again as in high school. You wonder if things can change now, if you can be friends with him like you’d be with another guy, but when you see him winking at you while you’re staring at him smoking, your heart tells you the answer: No. But you try to be that anyway, because you love the way he makes you laugh while you’re trying to study or his dumb jokes about the professors. He always seems so full of self-confidence, he could light up a whole room. Your eyes are always on him as if he was the sun. Too stunning not to look at him. Too stunning to burn your eyes.

“It’s a matter of fact, Y/N: I’m the best at it and you know that”.

“At picking horrible movies? Yeah, I agree with that,” you chuckle.

“I literally work here, Y/N, you’re ruining everything with the clients! Come on, choose something cool for tonight,” he says.

“Footloose is off the list, Steve, don’t give me the puppy eyes,” you reply, while taking Back to the Future.

“Marty McFly? Really?”

“Oh, you know my type: sarcastic, sweet and reckless,” you joke, but the look he gives you is very much eloquent, alongside his crooked smile. Your cheeks are made of Hell’s fire, right now.

“Sounds almost as awesome as me, baby,” he says, but even if his tone is ironic, you doubt that he’s trying to flirt with you, because for a moment it seemed like that.

But you are probably wrong.

***

It has been a month since that day. Robin didn’t say anything to you about Steve, but you know that she understood what’s going on. Luckily, she’s a good friend. You have grown closer to them, but also with another guy, Eddie. He likes playing D&D, rock music and he makes a lot of jokes. He’s really funny, but every time you see Steve, your heart aches in your chest. That’s why you’re thinking about going to another college. You’re sick of feeling that way and the exams are getting closer and closer. Eddie said that he could come with you, since he doesn’t have any friends anyway.

You’re trying to study in your room, when you hear a knock. You turn around, only to see Steve waving at you. He seems to feel the coldness of the air, because it’s raining outside. You open the window, so he can come in.

“There’s the front door for this, Steve,” you say.

“Usually, you say hi to people before you scold them,” he jokes, but you don’t laugh.

“I’m not in the mood. What do you want?”

“Why are you not in the mood?”

“Is there anybody else you can annoy? Robin? Nancy?” You ask, but he glances at you because of the irritated way you said the last name.

“Nancy and I broke up,” he say. Time freezes all around you. You finally look at him, at his face and you gulp. He’s still handsome as he was in high school and this is tearing you apart. It’s incredible how much power he still has over you. He never treated you right before, but you thought to see something that others couldn’t that you loved: his vulnerability, his kindness and his tormented soul. Being the king is amazing, but wearing the crown could feel like a burden, sometimes. And well, you can feel lonely under it. “This Summer, actually”.

You swallow.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to say…”

“Don’t be. Now ask my question: why are you not in the mood?”

You shrug.

“It’s nothing, really”.

“Y/N, talk to me,” he says and the way his gaze caresses your shape makes he seem hopeless.

You sigh.

“I’m thinking about moving away,” you say. He doesn’t move a muscle, but the light of your lamp is drawing some scribbles into his eyes.

You wonder if he despise your idea, but before he can say anything, your phone begins to buzz. He notices it and when he sees who’s calling you, he clenches his jaw.

“Don’t answer that,” he orders.

“What? Steve, it’s Eddie”.

“We’re in the middle of something, Y/N”.

“It can wait”.

“No, it can’t!” He exclaims and you flinch. He breathes out, then he puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I just… Oh, come on! Just give me some attention, for once”.

“For once?” You ask him. Eddie stopped calling. “I gave you three years of my life, Steve! I’m still doing it”.

“I know,” he says, without pride. You feel a knot in your throat, now.

“You’ve been knowing it all along, right?”

“No…”

“You made fun of me!”

“No, Y/N…” “You loved to be a heartbreaker at high school, didn’t you? Well, you fucking broke my heart, Steve! I hope that you’re happy with it”.

“I didn’t know!” He shouts. You look at him in disbelief. It’s not possible. You thought that he noticed that three years ago, that he knew everything by now… Did you just confess it to him? “If you’d just let me explain… Oh, for the love of… Robin told me, okay? Robin told me that today. She said that I had to stop you, that I was the only one that could. Our college is the best one and you deserve the best. So I asked her why I was the only one to make you change your mind and she said… You know what she said,” he says, without looking at you, but you want him to tell it. To tell what you’re not brave enough to say out loud.

“I don’t”.

He looks at you and you see that his eyes are glossy as yours. It seems almost too painful for him than to you. He’s praying you with a gaze not to say that, but you’re firm. It’s the closest thing you can ask him to say to you to an “I love you”.

“That you’re in love with me,” he says and a sob escapes from your lips. “You’ve been cruel to yourself, Y/N”.

“No, that’s exactly what I deserve to be in love with someone selfish and egocentric like you”.

“I’m not like that anymore, Y/N. Let me prove it,” he says. “Please.”

“I’m not falling for your lies again, Steve. Now get out”.

“I’m gonna leave college!” He blurts out and you freeze again.

“What?”

“So you don’t have to do it”.

“You’re being insane, Steve. Go to bed,” you say, then you take his wrist in order to kick him out, but his skin is burning. He squeezes your hand.

“I remember,” he says. “And I didn’t answer. I’ve been regretting that moment since you walked out the school. I didn’t know what to say”.

“Steve, it’s okay, it’s not that important…”

“No, it is. It is for you. You said: Maybe we’ll meet again. And I didn’t care, because Nancy was about to break up with me and I was losing my throne. And you were just a stop along the ride,” he says and your heart aches for that. “But I was wrong. You’ve been my friend when everybody else was pretending to be one. You loved me even if I didn’t treat you right. You comforted me when I fought with Nance, because you saw me. And you walked past my flaws, every fucking time. I used to think that the worst thing I did in high school was losing Nancy, but now I think that breaking your heart was. I regret not telling you that I imagined that you liked me, because maybe I would have known you better and I would have felt what I feel now for you”.

You feel overwhelmed by his last sentence. It’s what you have always desired to hear from his mouth, what you have always wished for at every birthday of yours, yet it feels just sad now. Perhaps, it’s too late.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m jealous,” he says and you see in the way he flexes his muscles that it costs him an enormous amount of strength to pronounce these words. “Of Eddie. And I know that I have no right to say this, but I am. He was the first one to know about your decision, while I was the cause of it. It broke my heart”.

“Now you know the feeling,” you say, with a smile.

“I guess so. Y/N, please, don’t go. We deserve a chance”.

You look at his hand, that is still on yours and something in your lungs stops working. It’s like you’re out of breath. The emptiness can’t be filled by air, because that has always been his place to be. Not in your heart, but in your lungs, to be oxygen for you to keep walking. To keep living.

“You’re not entitled to be jealous, but neither was I at the time and yet, I was. So I get the feeling, Steve, but I don’t want to be just a replacement of Nancy for you, because I’ve been waiting for this moment for years. You don’t know how painful it is to love somebody who doesn’t want you. And I’ve wanted you for so much time, Steve, so much time…”

“I know, Y/N, but you have to trust me: I see you right now. I see you, standing in front of me and I think that you’re beautiful. And too smart to date somebody like me, but still, I’m praying that you do it anyway,” he says, with a genuine smile on his face and you feel a sense of warmth into your chest.

“You should stop talking and start kissing me, right now,” you reply and so, he does it.

It’s an explosion in your stomach. It’s a dream that comes true when you’ve lost all of your hopes. It has come the day that you’ve finally felt like everything is in its place: his lips on yours, for example. The rain on the leaves in your garden. The heart in your chest that doesn’t hurt anymore.

He finally fixed what he broke a long time ago.

[skoulsons]

My Hand Was The One You Reached For

based off a @sarahspancakes post bc it was literally murdering me. This took like four hours bc this Applebees is noisy and I couldn’t focus

Nights like this are more normal than a full night's rest. The nights when they’re both awake, nightmares unrelenting as they find solace in the other. Comforting words and offering soothing reassurances to each other in the dark. A grounding touch in a hug or hand hold, gentle circles spread across their skin and tight squeezes for reminders. I’m here. You’re safe.

Joel found her shouting in bed and eventually thrashing against him as he grabbed her shoulders to wake her, desperation in his voice. “Ellie, baby, it’s just a nightmare! Baby, c’mon, come back. It’s me, it’s Joel.”

She woke up with a start, as she always did. Heavy breaths accompanied by tight fists, typically in her covers or the slack of her sheets. Tonight, it was the collar of Joel’s shirt.

He stayed completely still, letting her hold on as long as she needed to to calm down. He was kneeling at her bedside, his left arm on one of her outstretched forearms and the other rested on her shin.

She let go of his shirt, the fabric wrinkling along his neckline. She pulled her knees to her chest and crossed her arms around them, placing her chin between her knee caps. He pulled his hand from her shin away, but she quickly caught it, holding it in hers as she continued to hold her knees to herself.

There was silence for a few minutes, the two of them breathing evenly together. Joel rubbed circles along the parts of her hand his thumb could reach, Ellie rubbing some back in response, like they were communicating through it. I’m here. I know.

Joel broke their silence, trying to meet her eyes. “Do you want me-“ he asked, voice still laced with sleep.

“No… no, I don’t want to cuddle. Can we just… sit? In the window seat?” She sounded shy, unsure.

She hated waking him up. She hated being… like this. Broken. Damaged. Different.

Joel had nightmares, but he knew how to handle them. He had ways to fight them off. He didn’t always get more sleep after them, but he could push them down, at least for a little while.

Ellie couldn’t. She always woke up screaming and sweaty, unsure touch was real. She relived it every night, every image and sound as fresh as the night it happened. No matter what she tried, they were relentless. He was relentless.

But Joel takes all of it with so much grace and love that it’s overwhelming. He holds her every night, gentle reassurances whispered between hugs and sobs. Feather-light hand holds and kind, watery eyes. Reserved terms of endearment and faithful reminders. A calloused yet soft pressure against her cheek and scratchy kisses against her temple.

It’s his way of saying it.

He smiled softly, eyeing the seat in question. “Course, kiddo. C’mon,” he urged, offering his palm in her direction. She took it as he guided her over, sitting on the edge of the seat together. The tips of her toes only grazed the wooden floor beneath her as she swung her feet.

Ellie stared blankly into her room, her eyes adjusting to the mix of moonlight trickling into the darkness. She wasn’t moving beside Joel. She was stuck, immovable as she watched the darkness, images forming from the shadows and dancing in her vision. Guns. Hands. Blood. Smoke. Machete.

“Hey…” Joel started, leaning forward so she could see his face. “You okay?”

She blinked at home, taking in the half of his face lit up by the moonlight. “Mhm,” is all she can manage.

Almost every night, they snuggle. Ellie never fails to fall asleep so damn fast when she’s held against him, the warmth of his hold and the beat of his heart making the perfect combination to sleep to.

But tonight was different. She didn’t want that. She wanted, needed to stay up. To be grounded or distracted, rather than comforted. But sitting together wasn’t enough for her.

Joel grabbed her left forearm with his left hand, holding it against his thigh. He brought his right hand over both their arms and held her left in his.

Ellie shivered as lightly drew his fingers back and forth over her palm.

“Okay?” He asked, making sure it wasn’t too much.

Ellie just nodded in response, relaxing her arm.

“Now, it’s just a little game. I, uh… used to do it with Sarah.” He cleared his throat, pushing down the memories of sitting on Sarah’s bed and calming her down after bad dreams. “All I’m gon’ do is draw some letters on your palm one at a time. You gotta guess the word I draw. ‘S’all it is.”

“Is there a point to it?”

“No, not really. Jus’ calmed her down.” He sighed, a hint of grief in it. “Made her laugh, too. Tickled her, just like you.”

She smiled at the thought. Joel as a father was always an… interesting image. She only knows who he is now and the things he’s done, not the single father he was Before. Tommy mentioned once how gentle Joel was before the world went to shit.

Ellie thinks she gets glances of him Before in how he treats her, especially on nights like these.

“Alright, I’ll start off easy,” he said, lightly drawing a letter into her palm with his pointer finger.

“G?”

Joel smiled. “Good. Now…”

“I?”

He continued, drawing R A F until the cogs in Ellie’s head turned, spinning in sync.

“Giraffe!” She exclaimed.

Joel chuckled, rubbing his thumb over her palm. “Good job, kiddo. Another?”

“Fuck yeah!”

“Alright, what about…”

Joel got as far as D I N before Ellie guessed correctly, her making a backhanded joke about I can’t believe you used yourself for this game.

He traces a few more; things he knows will get her mind out of, or at least away from, where it was. Sally Ride, Contractor, even Shimmer.

Joel stopped tracing letters and interlocked his fingers with hers. “Do you think you can get some sleep?” He didn’t want her to, but she needed it. And if she wanted him to stay, he would.

She looked up at him. “No… wait, I want to do some on you.” She rubbed her thumb lightly over his hand. “Can I do one or two?”

“Course, kiddo. You can do as many as you want.”

She shuffled closer to him, somehow, and adjusted their arms so she was holding his forearm instead, hand over his.

“Okay,” she started, rubbing her fingers back and forth on his open palm.

She started one at a time, just as he did.

“O… L… D… whoa, hey-“ he started, grabbing her fingers and squeezing them against his palm so she couldn’t trace anymore.

She giggled, leaning her face into his arm. “I have a real one, I swear.” She caught her breath and focused on his hand.

They were calloused, plenty of tiny cuts amongst the aged lines of his palm. Even with callouses and broken, red wounds, they were still soft. They were comforting, steady.

They are what hold her. They’re what dried her tears and helped her off the ground. Nightmares are chased away when her hands are engulfed by his. They’re guiding and protective. They’re gentle and stable. The same hands that have beat men to death and choked the air from their lungs are the same ones that rub circles on her back and draw letters into her palms.

And Ellie’s not good with words. Neither of them are. They can never say what they want to, what they should, so it always comes down to touch. A kiss to her temple, a hug, a hair ruffle, a hand hold, or a myriad of other small ways they’ve grown accustomed to showing their love for each other. But there has to be a right time for it.

And this, Ellie thinks, is the right time.

She starts right in the middle of his hand and draws one line down before lifting her hand slightly from his palm.

“I” he says.

She goes back, drawing another line down, but continues it out towards his thumb before pulling her hand away again.

“L”

She draws a circle next, her hands starting to shake.

“O”

She breathes in then starts the next line, diagonal from his pinky to the bottom of his palm. Then another up towards his pointer finger.

“V”

Joel realizes way later than he should’ve. It was obvious when her hands started to shake. She loves a lot of things. It’s different.

But something tells him that’s not the case.

She draws another line down the left side of his palm and then three more jutting to the right from the main line.

“E”

She breathes in louder than she wants. She places the tip of her finger by his pinky, drawing a short diagonal line before taking the line up towards his pointer finger creating a small “v”. But she goes back, drawing a straight line down at the point of the “v”.

“Y”

She pauses, waiting. He knows. She knows he knows. A part of her wants him to hold her now. To say something. I know, baby. I know. I do too. But they’re not good with words. She wants him to initiate it; to hold her to rock them back and forth, no words needed to express something so profound. She wants it to be easy for them. She wants to say it every morning and before either one of them leaves the house. She wants to say it as he leaves a room and when they say goodnight. She wants to say it in the mundane tasks, just as a reminder for the other that yes, we do.

But that’s not the case, so she continues.

She draws another circle, hands shaking the worst at this point.

“O” he says, and she can hear the tears in his throat.

She draws one last time, starting at his pinky again. She stops, holding her hand above his.

“U”

She drops her head against his arm, cheek squishing against the pressure. She interlocks their fingers again, Joel squeezing tight to her, his knuckles going white only briefly as to not hurt her.

She pushes her legs against his, desperately trying to force herself as much into his personal space as she can manage.

He places his left hand over both of theirs, rubbing copious amounts of circles and comforting movements along her fingers. She holds on to his forearm like it’s the only thing keeping her alive.

He presses his lips to the crown of her head, kissing the mess of bed-hair that’s still present. He kisses two- three times.

Three times.

She realizes, too, what he means.

It’s his way of saying it.

[l3viat8an]

Poly mc: Imagine going to the human world with bros and a bunch of little kids and teens calls poly mc the most ugly person on the street and a fatso, all while laughing.

My friend was called that, and never in my life I wanted to punch a child. They held me back and said it wasn’t worth it.

Fuck them kids and your friend is a better person than me I would’ve helped punch a child- CW: fatphobia / body shaming-

Walking around the human world with your demons is always an…adventure for lack of a better word lol-

Asmo wants to drag you into every little Beauty boutique you pass, Satan wants to take you into every bookstore, Levi the arcade or little comic book shop, Beel every restaurant or café you pass- okay, okay you get the idea, they all want to drag you off and have fun!

But on the nicer days like this~ when the sun is hidden behind some clouds and it’s not too hot, it’s always nice to just go on little walks through the local park together!

It gives the demons a new look on the human world and let’s you show off your hot boyfriends! (Even if nobody’s really looking-)

and you get some much needed human world sunshine! What could be better?-

Until you passed a group of kids at the little play set, the one started pointing and laughing, you can’t hear what the kids are saying yet.

So you crack a joke about the kids being able to tell the boys are demons “Kids can always tell these thing, you know.”

Before laughing and continuing to walk, your group is still out of earshot of the kids but Levi grumbles about kids being dumb and Satan flips them off, Lucifer slaps his hand down, almost immediately, “Satan! Act right, those are children. They don’t know any better.”

Satan grumbles something under his breath.

But all in, all your groups keeps walking getting closer to the little playground and past the laughing kids, “Hey fatso! How much money are you paying to rent these stupid models?” “You know, nobody thinks any of them are actually dating a fat pig like you right?”

To say the demons were ready to punch some children is an understatement-

“Hey, kid c’mon over here fer a minute I just wanna talk.” If the children had any sense they wouldn’t go anywhere near Mammon with that ‘smile’ on his face, Satan isn’t nearly as worry about hiding his true intentions honestly, “I don’t want to talk, I want to punch a child.” Belphie just glares at the children “Tiny humans, really don’t have any manners anymore.”

Asmo looked as if he was in shock before marching up to the children, “Listen, here you brats, because I’m going to give you the lesson your parents never did; Only bitter nasty little humans, judge each other by their looks alone, and only bitter and miserable people decide that everyone else must be. Simply because someone doesn’t fall into your idea of a beauty standard doesn’t mean they’re automatically miserable, or that they’d have to buy love. I’d say you should be you ashamed of yourself but it would be a waste of time.”

Turning on his heel Asmo walks right back over to you, loops your arm through his and starts walking away.

“Wow…it’s been awhile since I’ve seen you get that upset.“ you say a bit impressed “Oh hon, I’m so sorry you had to hear that! But I hate children like that.” He presses a quick kiss to your cheek, and keeps walking.

You turn back to see if the others are following yet, and while you can’t hear what Lucifer or Beel said you can see the childrens faces drop and the two start backing away “What are they doing?…..” you’d almost feel bad, but really the kids started it “Probably just a few empty threats, don’t worry about it sweetie~! Now what should we do when they catch up~?”

The demons aren’t going to let a few nasty kids ruin your whole day after all!!

(Tho if you do want the kids to suffer a bit more Belphie can always give them nightmares- and I’m sure Satan or Lucifer have some ‘lovely’ curses-)

[softguarnere]

heyo. so i was wondering if you could do a hurt/comfort fic with Liebgott, it’s after the war, they’re living together and the reader wakes up in the middle of the night with a nightmare and Lieb talk her and hold her through it??

i would greatly appreciate it! but if you can’t it’s all good.

- Anon

'Til Dawn

Joe Liebgott x reader

A/N: Hi Anon, thank you so much for the request! I'm sorry that this one is kind of short, but I hope I did your prompt justice (This is written for the fictional depiction from the show - no disrespect to the real life veterans!) 💕🕊️ Warnings: Nightmares, mentions of war

When people warned you that going back to your life after the war might not be easy, you took their words to heart. Especially after everything you saw in Bastogne, and then in Austria . . . How could that not change a person?

But you are different now in other ways, too. And so are other people. The key is finding those who understand. Like Liebgott.

The you that you were back when you first arrived at Toccoa would never have guessed that the scrappy cab driver from San Francisco would become one of your closest friends and confidants as the war progressed. Then, after the war, something more. Now, though, it makes perfect sense that the two of you share an apartment, that you tell each other everything – that you’ve fallen in love and have decided that it would be nice to spend the rest of forever together. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

Well, some minor things could stand to be changed. Like how all the worst memories of the war have somehow started to seep into your dreams.

Joe is not a sound sleeper. At least, not anymore. He gets up and paces the apartment, or stares at the ceiling while you try to sleep. Lately, though, he’s been so worn out at work that he’s been sleeping through the entire night without issue. Maybe you’ve just traded roles.

You jerk awake, gasping for air. Around you, the room is dark, save for the slant of light that sneaks past the curtains over the window. The room echoes with your gasps as you try to find air. Blood rushes in your ears, the only other sound.

Blindly, you swing an arm behind you, grasping for Joe. You hold on tight when you feel his arm. In your panic, with your heart pounding in your chest, you don’t realize how tightly you’re holding on to him – or that he’s now awake.

Startled, Joe bolts upright. It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness, and then another for him to figure out why he’s woken up so suddenly. His eyes come into focus to see you shaking in the darkness, struggling to breathe, and gripping his arm like a lifeline. That’s all it takes for him to spring into action.

“Hey,” he says gently, moving closer to you and placing a soft hand on your back. “Hey, (Y/N). It’s okay. I’m right here. But you gotta breathe, alright doll?”

Joe’s familiar voice cuts through the panicked static that rushes around in your head. He’s here, with you. You’re together in your bed in San Francisco. Everything is okay. Or it should be. So why does it feel like you’re back in Europe, your life in a constant state of uncertainty?

“Joe?” you manage when you finally catch your breath. He rubs your back in response, waiting for you to continue. After a few more breaths, you try again.

“Joe,” you repeat. Then, after a pause, “is everything okay?”

The question catches him so off guard that his hand stills on your back. Is everything okay? You’re asking him, your voice sounding so scared. That in itself, scares him; you’ve always seemed so fearless. He continues rubbing your back again, hoping you didn’t notice his momentary lapse.

“You’re safe here, with me,” he promises. And then, the question that he’s almost afraid to ask, “Are you okay?”

No response. Only the sounds of the San Francisco night vaguely fill the bedroom. It’s all the answer that Joe needs. Slowly, so he doesn’t startle you, he uses one hand to search the bed until he finds yours. He intwines your fingers together.

“You know, I don’t sleep that well most of the time. Sometimes I just can’t shut my mind off. And other times . . . Well, other times I manage to fall asleep, but my memories become dreams that I can’t get out of.”

You squeeze his hand, recognizing something of yourself in his admission. That’s what night has felt like for you lately.

“You never told me,” you say.

He didn’t, he realizes. He tells you practically everything, but he’s never shared this with you. Sometimes – especially at night, when the world becomes so much larger and lonelier – the burdens of secrets seem easier to carry by oneself. But often when finally admitted under the bright light of day we realize that the burden is lighter if someone you trust is helping you carry it.

“I didn’t want to scare you,” Joe realizes aloud. Maybe the same thing has been happening with you. “How long has this been going on?” What he really means is: have you been afraid of scaring me, too?

Some of the worry melts from his heart when you admit, “This has been recent.”

If only he had the gift of words. If he had gone to school for literature like Webster, then he would know exactly what to say, and everything would be fixed. He’s trying – he’s holding you, being here with you. Still, he needs to do something more.

“Do you want to talk - ?”

“No.” You draw a shaky breath, squeezing his hand again. “Sorry. I just – I don’t want to go back there. I don’t want to think about it all.”

“That’s okay.”

“I’m sorry.”

He pats your back. “Don’t apologize, doll. I understand. I just wanna help, however you need me to.”

However you need. You wish you knew what the answer to that looked like. Knowing what you need would make this whole thing so much easier.

“I don’t know. Could you just . . . Could we just stay here for a bit? Together? I’m not sure if I can go back to sleep.”

“Of course.” Gently, he helps you back onto your pillow. His heart leaps when you curl into his side and rest your head on his chest instead. He presses a kiss to your forehead. “Whatever you need.”

And he means it. He’s supposed to work tomorrow morning, but it’s no matter now. Someone else can drive the morning rush. Because he’ll stay here with you – awake – for the rest of the night, if need be. Just to make sure that you’re okay, he would stay up ‘til dawn and beyond. And he knows that you would do the same for him.

[soonsweetheart]

Jesus is my best friend.

I love him, more than anything.

I love everything about him. I love following him to the villages and watching him preach. I love seeing the miracles he does, small and huge ones. I love how gentle he is, how comforting he is, and how careful he is to correct.

Military warrior? Is that what they really thought of him? It was almost humorous.

But the more you love someone, the easier it is to tell when they’re in distress.

I wanted to deny it at first, what I’d noticed. He was always so joyful, optimistic, just happy to be alive. It was clear how deeply he loved me and the rest of his followers.

It started out subtle.

He’d zone out every now and then. He’d want more time alone to pray. He would deeply value every interaction with us. And it scared me.

But the most undeniable thing that something was wrong were his nightmares.

When we’d first started traveling (and even now), I wanted nothing more than to be close to him. I propped my tent up beside his each time we settled down on new land. He loved to travel, loved to go find whatever mysterious person he wanted to heal. Whether their hearts or their bodies, typically both.

It was a habit, really. I found comfort knowing he was close. I needed to be near him. He was and is my safety. I even found that I could faintly hear his breathing or light snoring as he slept. I would giggle a bit before being lulled to sleep by the melody.

But a few nights ago, I’d first heard the slightest bit of distress.

It’s hard to describe, really. Maybe the tossing and turning sounds from his tent along with the occasional groan, sometimes even sniffling. It worried me. He was my best friend, after all.

I brushed it off the first night. Even the second.

But on the third night I couldn’t. I silently crawled out of my tent, walking the couple feet over to his own and gently tapping on the outside.

“Master, are you up?” I whispered.

The shifting stopped. It made me tense up, wondering if he’d have rather been alone. But then the fabric was brushed to the side and there he sat. He was smiling, putting on a happy face, but his cheeks were damp.

“Can I come in?” I said softly, not wanting the other followers to hear.

He seemed reluctant, tired even, but he nodded and motioned for me to come in,

“Yes, of course, darling. It’s quite late, you know. What brings you here at this time?” he smiled, speaking softly.

I sighed and crawled inside, sitting across from him and shifting the fabric of the curtain back over as a makeshift door.

“I came to check on you, Master,” I replied, turning to smile at him. I wanted him to know that I cared. I wasn’t just his follower or his daughter, I also wanted to be his friend.

His gaze softened. He really was beautiful.

“I appreciate that, sweetheart. Truly, it gives me joy to know you’re worried about me. But this is not for you to worry about,” he tried to reassure me.

But I didn’t like that answer. I pursed my lips, feigning annoyance. “Of course you would say something like that, Master,” I grumbled. I wanted to see him smile, make him laugh.

His lips curled up into a dorky grin before he took my hands in his. “Hey, I mean it. You don’t need to fear anything, you know that?” he said softly.

His hands were warm, and calloused. I squeezed them gently and nodded, “I worry about you. I love you. I wanna make sure you’re okay…Master…I can tell you haven’t been sleeping well.”

He looked a bit taken aback, but only for a moment. “Darling, like I said, I appreciate your concern but really I’m f-“

I cut him off. I knew he wasn’t lying. He didn’t lie, because he was sinless. So…he must’ve really been “fine” but what does that mean?

“Would you just listen,” I whispered, looking into his eyes, “I know there’s something going on with you. You’ve been acting weird lately and having nightmares and I don’t like it. I know you’re God, but you’re human too yeah? Like me. I love you. It’s okay to trust your Father. But you can trust me too.”

I expected him to smile, or at least look a bit less sad. But I never expected to make him cry. I couldn’t help but freak out, because I’d never seen him cry. Not ever.

And it broke my heart.

So I did what he did for me last time I was upset. Last time I was breaking down and crying in his arms.

I pulled him close to my chest and held him.

“I’m here,” I whispered. I tried to bring him comfort by brushing my fingers through his hair and showing him the same love he showed me, “and I love you.”

His arms wrapped around my waist and he squeezed me, hesitantly letting down his guard. He deserved this, to be loved the way he loved others. I made a promise to him in that moment. I knew it wouldn’t be easy, it would come with a price. But I loved him. God, I loved him.

“I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth.”

[adorajane]

heyy, jane! could you write some soft smut with eddie <33 mayyybe you have a nightmare and he comforts you or something :)) love ya!

nowhere, just here ♫ eddie munson x reader

a summary from jane: you have a nightmare. luckily, eddie knows just how to reassure you he isn’t going anywhere.

wordcount: 1.3k

warnings: nsfw - smut, oral [fem receiving], fem reader, slight praise kink, emmm eddie doesnt get to cum im so sorry maybe next time </3

if you’re under 18, please don’t read this !! 18+ only, babes !!

Eddie’s palm is pressed against your cheek, and your eyes snap open at the feeling of his skin caressing yours. Hesitantly, your eyes flick up towards his big, doe ones, which seem to be glazed with concern.

He’s here. He’s fine.

“Hey, hey,” he whispers, his voice low and scratchy with sleepiness, “You’re okay, sweetheart.”

You sit up, thickly swallowing, and it feels like all of your words followed the swallowed lump in your throat. You’re still as Eddie’s thumb tenderly brushes against your skin, smearing the small stream of tears that was finding its way down the curve of your cheek.

You find your voice after a moment of silence.

“Eddie,” you mumble, “You can’t leave, okay?”

He blinks at your words, but he’s quick to reassure you, “I’m not goin’ anywhere, sweet thing.”

He’s gentle as he tugs you into the space between his legs, lulling you with his grounding presence. You can feel his chest pressed against your back, his calloused fingers grazing over your thigh, his nose brushing against your neck. You can feel him.

“I’m right here,” he murmurs.

Your eyes slowly flutter shut as his hot breath fans against your neck, and you can’t stop your whisper from slipping out of your lips, “I want you, Eddie.”

“And you have me,” he says.

You can feel him smile against you, but with your vulnerable state, he cuts the teasing short. Your breath hitches as he begins to mouth at your neck, his teeth nipping at and dragging against your skin. His soft lips slowly trail up, up, up, until they reach that spot, a spot he’s gotten to know well with all the time he’s spent licking and biting at.

He feels himself strain in his boxers as he eyes you, pretty as ever. Your eyes are shut with fluttering lashes, your lips are slightly parted, providing the smallest escape for each breathless sound you let out, and your hand, it’s tightly gripping onto his, almost as if you thought he would disappear. He hums against you: maybe that is what you’re thinking.

You let out a breathless whimper, a sound thick with need. He attempts to satiate you by biting down on your neck, your spot, but he’s only successful in riling you up more.

“Eddie,” your voice is quiet, “Please.”

At the sound of your plea, his lips pull off of your neck with a soft ‘pop’, and marks blossom all over it, forming a bruised gallery in an empty museum.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he whispers against your skin.

He slides an arm under your thighs, giving you a small lift and laying you down. You look like an angel. You have a halo of false innocence; wisps of your hair frame your face, your hand clutches at the soft fabric of his pillowcase, and your thighs, they’re pressed together now, tight.

Slowly, he slides a hand between your thighs, and it trails upwards, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake. His thumb drags against the skin of your upper thigh and wanders towards your cunt, clothed with pretty, pink panties.

He can’t help the small smile that forms on his face as his finger sweeps over the soft cloth. “Pretty girl,” he murmurs.

His thumb presses against your covered clit, and you’re quick to react, a soft moan leaving your trembling lips paired with a small arch of your back. He doesn’t deny you the pleasure, brushing off the throb of his cock because right now, this is about you.

He’s not sure why your sensitivity is amped up to twelve, why your hand is holding onto him like he’ll disappear if he’ll let go, or why you push yourself to keep your eyes on him, even as they constantly shut with each of your heavy blinks.

Now isn’t the time to ask you, though, he knows. Not when your brain is melting with thoughts of him, him, and him. Not when your heavy-lidded eyes are flooded with a mix of pure love, need, and a smudge of longing. And not when the only thing you can whisper is his name again, and again, and again.

He hooks his thumbs under the band of your panties, swiftly pulling them down and allowing you to kick them off your ankles. His hands slip under your thighs, lifting you towards his eager-to-please mouth.

He says it again, “I’m right here.”

His words are warm, and so is his mouth, his tongue, him. His soft tongue drags up your slit, collecting the wetness that drips with each small cry you let out. His nose nudges your clit as he pushes himself further into your weeping cunt, and he doesn’t miss the small jerk of your body as it does so.

Your slick is dribbling down his chin, but it’s obvious he doesn’t mind, not when he pushes his face in further, continuing to lap at your entrance like you’re the only drink that’ll quench his thirst. If he’s honest with himself, you are. His mouth travels upwards, and a choked gasp leaves your own as he suckles on your clit, rolling his tongue around it.

With your hands digging into the mattress, you squirm in his secure hold, breathless moans of his name endlessly flowing out of your lips.

“Fingers,” you pant, “Put them inside. Please.”

You can feel the wetness of drool dribbling down the side of your mouth, but you don’t find it in you to care, not when Eddie’s working his fingers into you the way he is. He’s set you down now, so you can squirm freely against the sheets, bucking your hips as much as you please.

He replaces his mouth with his thumb, continuing to work slow, big circles onto your swollen clit. His chin is glistening with your slick, but he doesn’t bother wiping it off as he grins, “Messy girl.”

You pout at his words, narrowing your eyes at him, “‘M not messy, you are.”

He hums, and it’s almost drowned out by the filthy, loud squelch of your weeping cunt.

“Sounds like a messy pussy to me,” he teases.

His words only tighten the knot in your heaving chest, and your eyes are closing again, screwing shut as you fly towards your high. Eddie’s fingers are quick, pumping in and out of you with his hand rubbing against your clit just right every time. You’re practically panting and heaving at this point, and one of your hands is reaching out now, set on a blind journey to find him.

Eddie takes it into his other hand, rubbing his thumb over your knuckles as he watches your face, your pretty, pretty face, contort in pleasure as you cum, flooding his fingers with your wetness.

“That’s my good girl,” he hums, slowing the pace of his fingers as he guides you through your orgasm.

You watch Eddie wipe off his fingers on the sheets, and for a moment, you think about the mysterious stains he has littered all over his mattress. Perhaps he’s wiped his fingers off there a few times too many.

He looks down at you, his head tilting to the side, “What’s on your mind?”

“Are the stains on your mattress cum?”

He pauses, and he’s slow to shake his head. “No,” he says. “No, I don’t know what they are.”

You sit up, opening your mouth to speak, but Eddie’s quick to pull you into his arms. His hand is on the back of your head, tangling in your hair as he presses it against his chest, “There’s my good girl.”

You happily hum at his words, peeking up at him as you whisper, “I blue balled you.”

He snorts at your words, and the amusement stays on his face as he looks down at you, “‘S okay, baby.”

Tomorrow. Tomorrow morning, you’ll make it up to him, and maybe, you’ll tell him why he gave you head at 11 PM.

[fandomxpreferences]

Safe and Sound: Part 3.5 Filler Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw x female!reader slow burn

TW:allusions to abuse, fluff, this is pretty tame tbh

Summary: Things start closing in on you and hiding the truth from Bradley is proving more and more difficult.

Word count: like 700

A/N: there’s no real progress in this part, it’s mosntly just a filler to lead into the rest of the story and provide a little time skip and context. The next chapter will start digging into the plot a little more. Also the Taglists are getting difficult to manage so if I forget you, I’m sorry.

Over the next couple of months, Bradley sleeping over becomes a regular occurrence. It's not unusual for him to show up on your doorstep with flowers and your favorite candy, ready to watch movies until you start to doze off. He even bought matching pajamas and a healing crystal to ward off nightmares.

Whether it's the newest addition to your nightstand or the warm burly man in your bed, you don’t know. But the nightmares are becoming less frequent and easier to wake up from when they do occur. Bradley never mentions that first night again and you’re grateful. There’s an unspoken understanding that he knows what the dream was about, and you’re grateful he doesn’t try to dig for details.

During the day you’ve been busying yourself with work, picking up extra shifts whenever they’re available, and hanging out with the Daggers when you’re able. They’ve accepted you into the group with ease, and you’re happy to have found your own little family.

They’ve all got a running bet on how long it’ll be before you and Bradley become official, noticing how he never seems to be more than a few feet away from you. They don’t miss the way you search for him when something happens or the way he keeps a protective arm wrapped around you whenever you’re within reach.

None of them know the truth about why you moved here, Bradley being the only one you’ve let close enough to get a glimpse into your past. Despite how close you’ve grown, even he doesn’t know a fraction of the whole story. But he knows enough to change the subject whenever someone starts trying to get more information.

He’s well aware of the way your breathing speeds up and your eyes gloss over when people poke into your past, and he’s gone as far as telling the rest of the group not to bring it up. It became more difficult to ignore when you freaked out on Jake one night.

You’re laughing loudly with Bradley and Natasha while sipping on your second cocktail when Jake's voice rings out.

“Okay, smile everybody!” He’s holding his phone out and you grin widely without giving it a second thought. He makes a comment about posting the picture to Instagram and your eyes widen.

“No!” You shout and everyone stops to look at you.

“Don’t worry, you look fine.” He jokes but you don’t laugh. You lunge for the phone in a panic and Jake frowns.

“Don’t post that Jake, I’m serious!” You beg on the verge of tears. The blonde pilot glances at Bradley who seems equally confused at your reaction. He nods his head slowly and puts his phone away.

“Okay, I won’t post it anywhere. I promise.” He says cautiously, but it's too late. You’re breathing rapidly and your eyes are frenzied. You feel arms wrap around you and fight against the person frantically.

“Hey, hey, it's just me sweetheart. Let's go outside.” He suggests and you choke on a sob as he carries you out the front door. The rest of the team look at each other, confusion and concern written clearly on their features.

Once Bradley gets you outside, you collapse into his arms as wails tear from your throat. He knows it's not the right time, but he can’t go on seeing you like this without knowing why.

“Why can’t he post a photo of you?” He whispers and you shake your head.

“Honey you’re going to have to open up at some point.” He sighs and you only cry harder. He hugs you tighter and you try your best to respond.

“No one can know where I am.” You gasp and the pieces click together. You don’t want someone to find the photo and use it to track you down. At this point, Bradley isn’t sure if you’re running from someone or something you’ve done.

“Okay, you’re safe.” He murmurs while rocking you back and forth until you’ve calmed down.

The conversation doesn’t go further than that but you know you’re not going to be able to keep your secrets for much longer.

Taglist

@drakelover78 @manyfandomsfanvergent @ssprayberrythings @sarahsmi13s @disturbedbeautywrites @desert-fern @one-sweet-gubler @callmemana @luckyladycreator2 @bookchik26 @taytaylala12 @michalkasimp @xoxabs88xox @loveless-simp @withakindheartx @formulapierre @ccristata @shanimallina87 @starlite41 @noz4a2 @sadgirlgiselle @abaker74 @chair-things @k-k0129 @izz-ayes-world @kajjaka @oxxolovemelikeyoudooxxo @phantomxoxo @rosiahills22 @little-wiseone @diggorycullen @secretsicanthideanymore @melllinaa @little-wiseone @gspenc @benhardysdrumstick

[divinegrey]

hcs with the val ladies of your choice for some comfort 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽 any type of comfort pls

also hope you're doing lovely <33

-diamond anon

i like you so much that i diverged from headcanons to ficlets. hope that's okay! i was feeling the need to comfort the agents, so that's what i went with!

BLEEDING RADIANCE | FADE, REYNA, SAGE W/ F!READER

words: 2300 warnings: depictions of radiance overload, hurt/comfort

FADE

Your whistle softens as you approach the door to Fade’s room. Rapping your knuckles twice against the metal, you shift your weight onto your back leg, hands going to your hips to wait. It’s not terribly early in the morning, and Fade is usually awake around this time. 

Which is strange, because she’s talking an awfully long time to respond. With your face pinching into a frown, you jiggle the doorknob, pushing the lever up and down. Nothing in response, and you’re about to shout her name through the metal when you notice just the barest hint of… echoes?

Your ears catch the trail end of a whisper; you shoot your eyes downward to the slit between the floor and the door, eyes widening at the reddish gray tendrils reaching through. One of them caresses the rubber of your sole, as if beckoning you into the room. 

“Oh, shit.” 

You’ve never been more thankful Fade slipped the override code to her door to you late one night. 

Punching in the keys, you wait with a furiously pounding heart until the lock clicks and you can finally push the handle down. The door swings open and you’re thrust into a dim room, only a single lamp on, but even that bulb has tendrils stretching over it. 

Curled up on the floor near the wall is none other than Fade herself, her hands clutched behind her head and her entire body folded in on itself. The organ thumping inside your chest twists up at the sight of it, of the pure agony that Fade is gritting her teeth against. 

You close the door, watching seemingly as the shadows bleed out of Fade’s hands and neck, the parts of her skin that are exposed rapidly shifting like ink moving over her body. Moving on instinct leads to sliding onto the floor beside her, gathering her up in your arms until you’re sitting against the wall with the bounty hunter in your lap. 

“You’re fine, you’re okay, I’m right here,” you say, hoping your words slice through the ever overlapping echoes and whispers that seem to curdle from the shadows themself. You see just a hint of Fade’s face— the shadows pour red and black trails from her eyes, the very same ones you see her summon on the battlefield against her enemies. 

Even she can’t escape the Nightmare. 

One of her hands reaches for yours, and you curl your fingers around hers. They’re shaking, practically vibrating in your grip, but you bring her fingers to your lips and utter comforting words. You’ve heard of how her radiance bleeds out of her, a consequence of summoning the nightmares too often. She just came back from a mission… 

Nevermind. That’s not the point. 

You hold Fade tight, the pressure forcing her body into a normal rate of breathing. After having seen these moments before, you know what to do, and you couldn’t be more thankful for when Fade makes the first, soft sound since you came into the room. 

It’s simply hi, whispered so quietly not even the silence of the room could sink its claws into it. 

“Hey,” your reply is gentle. Rubbing soothing circles on her back, you smile. “You back with us?” 

Jerkily, Fade nods her head. You spread your legs, giving her more control over where she sits as she comes to. Her hand drops back to hold herself up, and you see the way trickling shadows still bleed from the tear ducts of her eyes. 

Curses come out of her mouth as she leans forward. You let her think, and she turns to you, her hand still covering her eyes. “Shit, I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be,” you say instantly. “Did I help?” 

Fade nods simply. 

“Then I’m glad I was here. I’ve got your six, whether we have guns in our hands or not.” Giving her another rub on the shoulder, Fade reaches her hand and curls her palm over yours. Only then do you see the grateful smile on her face, followed by the resolute inhale. Leaning forward, you cup the back of Fade’s head and press a kiss to her temple. “I’ve got you.” 

Her head curls into your neck, her fingers gripping your shirt. “Thank you.” 

You grin. “Anytime.” 

REYNA

You know Reyna is burning out when the tattoos along her arm are steaming. Yet, you do not say a word, because the look of concentration on the Empress’s face is more terrifying than anything else. Instead, you keep an eye on her as the training session within the Danger Room prolongs. 

It’s a standard, run of the mill training regimen, meant to be aggressive to keep the instincts of the agent sharpened, but Reyna is losing her focus, and you have a pretty succinct reason to suspect why this is happening. 

Small trails of steam curl off the searing neon pink glow of her tattoo as Reyna summons another leer to blind the enemy dummies before shooting them all down with a horrifyingly accurate precision. 

But when she goes for another leer summoning, her arm cramps up, her wrist pulling down. Reyna’s face pinches up, the slightest expression of pain coming onto her features as she pulls her arm into herself. Before you can even attempt to shut anything down, Reyna tries once more, and this proves to be a fatal error on her part. 

Pink light lashes up her arms, fracturing away from her tattoos and into her skin like the veins of her blood rushing through her body. It continues all the way up to her neck, to her face, where her once luminescent pink irises have now turned into a full-bodied glow, the same way her eyes are when Reyna is knee deep into her Empress mode. 

The determination burns in her body like a wild-fire. She stumbles, but still, she raises her gun to shoot more dummies that spawn from the projectors with only one hand, bodying the full weight of the recoil from the Vandal. The tips of her fingers grow translucent, a wave of pinkish light cascading through her body in undulations, like she’s trying to go invisible but can’t bring herself to do it fully. The only way you know she isn’t doing it herself is the way her entire face is screaming in pain. 

Enough is enough. 

You slam the button to turn off the Danger Room’s current protocol, prompting the simulation to fade away in an instant. You step out of the control room and walk over, just in time for Reyna to drop the gun and for her to stumble into you. 

“I’ve got you,” you say, an etching of surprise in your words because Reyna’s skin feels closer to fire than anything else. With her weight completely on yours, you lower her to the ground and into your lap. “I’ve got you.” 

You’ve never seen the Empress struggle like this before. Her Radiance bleeding through completely, moving over her body in ways. Her tattoos are bright, as are her eyes, but her body is trying to enshrine itself in translucent darkness. Trying to being the key words here. You rack your brain for any possible solutions, and you can only come up with one. 

You know she’s got a pair of sharp teeth in there. 

“Take it,” you say, holding out your forearm to her. “I know you need to, just take as much as you need.” 

Reyna’s eyes flicker to yours (or do they? It’s hard to tell). “Can’t— I’ll take—” her nails dig into your skin. “Too much.” 

“I know how to stop you if you do, just please take it.” 

That’s seemingly all the permission she needs. 

Her other hand grips your forearm, nails breaking the skin with ease. You hiss at the puncturing, at the blood that starts to leak. Reyna inhales, fumes rising from your skin and rushing into her nostrils. Parts of your soul, you realize, as you feel a faint fogginess build in the distance. Yet, your focus is solely on the woman in your lap, as she feeds from you. 

Her body materializes slowly, the shimmering bits fading away. The light flaring in her veins recedes, and the tattoos radiant glow calms into their natural resting state of black. Finally, her eyes return to normal, as normal as a glowing pink iris could be. 

And still, she feeds. 

Knowing when enough is enough, you push her head back with your other hand, breaking the tethering enough to pull your other arm free. Adjusting her so that she’s laying on her back, you hover over her with a smile. 

“Someone needed to eat,” you remark, prompting Reyna to snort. 

She stares at the ceiling for a few moments, and you simply rest your hand over her heart, feeling the organ pound away. After some time, Reyna looks at you. 

“Thank you, cariño,” she says. “I see now I should’ve taken more time to rest after my mission yesterday.” 

“Maybe. But you’re forgiven. As long as you come with me to the break room to grab some food,” you say, holding out your pinky finger. Reyna glances at it, and though you see the way she almost calls you childish for it, she locks her pinky with yours. You grin. “Good. Now come on.” 

SAGE

The infirmary feels far more cold than you’re used to it being. It’s a space always kept warm, but not sweltering, especially during the colder months of the year where some of the agents can be more temperature prone (like poor Neon, so used to the weather of the Philippines, compared to Sova, who goes on runs in shorts in the winter without breaking a sweat). 

So you’re a little concerned when you see some frost on the ground where frost shouldn’t be. 

“Sage?” You glance around the space, and when you don’t see her, you step over the frost and further into the infirmary. It’s an L-shaped space; when you turn the bend, you see the healer sitting on one of the beds, her back turned to you. You exhale. “There you are. Must’ve not heard me when I come in. There’s a bunch of ice on the ground, I think the AC unit is— oh.” 

Upon coming closer, you realize why Sage hadn’t moved. 

Her arms rest in her lap, bent at the elbow, and iced over with a teal sheen. You can hardly see the movement of her breathing, her eyes unfocused. You frown; you’ve seen this before, but never to this scale, where the ice is crawling down her forearms and up to her elbows. Sage’s radiance is overflowing, too much of it happening all at once. 

Moving quickly, you turn up the heating in the room before gathering some blankets from a cupboard. Returning to Sage, you wrap a blanket around her shoulders. Her skin is icy to the touch, and when you cup her face, it takes a moment for her to register your presence. 

“There you are,” you whisper softly when Sage’s deep brown eyes find yours. “I’m right here. Let’s get you warmed up and get this ice off your hands.” 

You sit down beside her on the bed, moving one of her hands into your lap. Examining it, you see that the ice from her radiant abilities has created a later over her hands. She must’ve been overworking herself, healing too much. Sage is the go-to person on base for when someone is hurt, but even she crumbles. 

Pressing on her forearm, you crack the ice. It’s thick, but not nearly impenetrable. It flakes off with the pressure and it falls to the ground. You rub circles on her forearms, hoping to bring sensation back to her skin as you work up to her fingers. 

As you do, Sage leans her head onto your shoulder. You turn and kiss her forehead.

“I’m right here. You’ll be okay,” you say, pulling her thumb to crack the ice at the base. You pull it off before working the rest of the way around her palm. Little by little, you chip away until her arm is freed. You wrap it up in the blanket before working on the next one, starting the same process over again until, at long last, both of her arms are freed from her own ice. 

You bundle her up in thick blankets until nothing but Sage’s head is exposed. The color has returned to her cheeks and you stroke her hair gently. 

“How are you feeling?” You ask. Sage takes a long inhale. 

“Better. Thank you,” Sage answers, pulling the blankets tighter. “I always do seem to forget how uncomfortable it is to experience that.” 

“Radiance burnout is no joke. I’m glad I was here to stop it before it got worse,” you reply, recalling the time you’d seen Sage’s entire body freeze over. That wasn’t a pleasant experience, and it isn’t one you wish to relive anytime soon. You lean down and kiss her cheek. “Please call me or one of the others if you feel close to burnout again. There are so many of us here to help you.” 

Sage, a woman with so much responsibility on her shoulders, doesn’t seem keen on the idea. Yet, she nods in agreement anyway. And frankly, given her stubbornness, it’s all you can ask for. You shift on the bed, snuggling her to provide warmth for as long as she needs. 

The world can wait. 

~~~~~ A/N: to knockout anon, i'm sorry this took a while! life got in the way, but i hope you like this <3

[soulofapatrick]

Fever Dream - Jesse x Reader

Summary: you find yourself outside Jesse’s door after a nightmare

Words: 1.9k 

Warnings: none 

Y/N’s POV

I don't really know how I ended up here, standing outside Jesse's door in the dead of night and the rain soaking me to my core but all I know is that it was the right place to go when he opens the door. He's half asleep, hair mussed and just in a pair of black sweatpants that hang dangerously loose on his hips, his chest bare and lightly defined with the moonlight reflecting off of his silver scars that litter the bare expanse of it. I shiver, both from the cold and from the sudden urge to reach out and trace the scars on Jesse's chest. But I hold myself back, knowing that now is not the time or place for that.

“Hey Sunshine,” Jesse says, voice heavy with sleep but a hint of concern as he takes in my drenched appearance. I fell asleep in my horse riding gear and now they’re sticking to my skin in the most unbecoming way possible, “What are you doing here?” 

“I had a nightmare,” I reply, voice barely above a whisper as I try to hold back the tears that threaten to spill over and I’m wrapping my arms around myself in some form of comfort, unable to look any further up than his jaw that has the faintest amount of stubble across it. 

Jesse’s reacting immediately, reaching out and pulling me into his warm embrace, not caring if I get him wet as he wraps one arm around my waist and the other comes up to cradle my head and smooth down my hair as he coos sweetly, “I’ve got you Sunshine.” I’m sinking into his embrace, feeling the weight of my fears and anxieties lift slightly. Jesse always has a way of making me feel safe and secure, no matter what’s going on in the world around us, “You’re safe now,” He whispers, running his hand up and down my back soothingly, “I’ve got you.” 

I take a deep breath, burying my face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the safe scent that is Jesse: gunpowder, cinnamon and cherry with a hint of the coffee he had earlier. His strong chest rumbles with a quiet laugh as he presses a kiss to the side of my temple, making a soft sigh slip past my lips as I press the palms of my hands flat against his back feeling every muscle ripple under the skin. The heat radiating from him is comforting and I want to stay here forever, clinging to him like a lifeline but Jesse is gently prying me away enough to meet my gaze, “Darlin’, you’re shivering,” Jesse says, worry lacing his voice, “Let’s get you warmed up. You can borrow some of my clothes.” 

I’m nodding, feeling a small smile tug at the corners of my lips at his concern as he’s always so thoughtful and caring. One of the many reasons I am in love with him. He’s pulling away, leaving me feeling cold and alone until his warm palm slips into mine, callouses beginning to form from firing his gun. He’s tugging me towards his bedroom, where he pulls out a pair of sweatpants and a sweater for me to wear, sending me a sweet smile before he murmurs, “I’ll make us some coffee, come join me when you’re dressed, okay?” I’m nodding, feeling the warmth spreading through me as I slip into his clothes, peeling the wet clothes from my freezing skin and replacing it with the soft fabric soothing against my chilled skin. 

Jesse is leaning against the counter, sipping on his own coffee and looking really fucking good in the moonlight slipping through a gap in the curtains. The smooth expanse of his back rippling every time he raises the cup to his lips, back to me, having not heard me enter the room. It gives me time to really take him in, letting my eyes slide across his body unabashedly. Jesse’s broad shoulders are relaxed, his muscles loose and easy, his muscles more defined now they’re not covered by his teeshirt or jacket, the moonlight illuminates the curves and lines of his body, making his silver scars stand out against his tan skin. His dark hair is messy and I just know that one stray strand is falling in his eyes and my hands are itching to brush it aside. The sight sight of him is both intimidating and alluring and I can feel my heart skip a beat as I lean against the doorframe. 

Suddenly, Jesse is turning around, cognac eyes bright in the moonlight, face illuminated by a flash of lightning and the following crack of thunder makes me jump a little which Jesse notices. His gaze falls on me again, having glanced out the window for a second or two, a mall smile quirking at the corners of his lips as he takes in my appearance. His eyes softening as he sees the relief on my face now that I’m safe and sound in Jesse’s house, the sweet scent of cinnamon clinging to my skin through his clothes. He sets down his coffee and walks over to me, wrapping his arms around my waist and pulling em practically flush against him, my eyes subconsciously flicking down to his lips before meeting those cognac eyes again. 

There’s a thickness in the air, something tangy on my tongue, as Jesse’s body heat seeps into mine and chasing away the lingering chill. I do the only thing I can that will stop me being stupid and kissing Jesse: resting my cheek on his firm chest and letting my eyes flutter shut at the comforting sound of his heartbeat beneath my ear. The scent of his skin is somehow even more intoxicating, being both comforting and overwhelming and his breath is hot as it ghosts over my neck. It’s like the tension is snapping with every crack of thunder, my heart jumping and my nail digging into his shoulders in surprise when tentative lips replace his breath. His lips are soft and gentle, the tangy taste in the air intensifying and making my head spin as those addictive lips move up my neck to my jawline where his teeth lightly graze the skin. 

My knees feel weak and I’m not sure if I’m still dreaming but either way I’m not going to do anything to break this fever dream. Jesse’s fingers are tracing lazy circles on my lower back, sending shivers down my spine and I can feel the  heat between us growing with every passing moment. As his lips find mine, the kiss deepens and I melt into him, my hands finding his silky hair as I pull him closer. His lips are soft yet firm against mine, and as the kiss deepens, the tangy taste is replaced with something sweeter as his tongue licks inside my mouth and drawing an embarrassingly soft sound from my lips. His kiss both gentle and intense, like the storm brewing over Jackson. I feel like I’m falling deeper and deeper into this fever dream, where all exists is the taste of his lips and the feel of his body against mine. His hands roaming my body, caressing every inch of my skin as we kiss, like he’s memorising every curve and every contour, making me feel so wanted and cherished. 

The kiss ends almost too quickly and Jesse’s letting out a breathy laugh when I try to follow his lips with mine, already addicted to him. He rests his forehead against mine, his breath warm of my face as we both try to catch our breath and it take every small fibre of confidence I have left to open my eyes and meeting his gaze, feeling like I could drown in the intensity of his gaze. Those pools of coffee so warm and inviting, my cheeks heating up at the way he’s looking at me, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.” He murmurs, voice low and husky. 

My heart thuds against my chest at his words and I can feel a smile tugging at the corners of my lips, “I think I might have an idea," I reply, my own voice barely above a whisper, “This isn’t a dream is it?”

He chuckles, a sound that sends another shiver down my spine, “God, I hope not as I don’t wanna stop.” 

I can’t stop the small, embarrassingly girly, giggle at his words, the sound so foreign to my own ears. It’s like all my nerves are on fire and I can’t think straight, but with Jesse so close, I don’t really want to. Instead, I lean up and press a soft kiss to his lips, feeling him respond immediately, his strong arms pulling me closer. As our lips meet again, the kiss is slow and sensual, our mouths moving together in a gentle dance. I can feel the heat of his body against mine, and my fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him closer to me. His lips are soft and warm against mine, and his tongue traces the seam of my lips, asking for entrance. I part my lips, and his tongue slides inside, exploring and tasting every inch of my mouth. The kiss is filled with desire and longing, and I can feel myself getting lost in the moment, forgetting everything else around us. Every touch, every movement, is electric, and I never want it to end.

As the kiss starts to wind down, Jesse guides us towards his bed, his arm around my waist. We climb under the covers, still wrapped up in each other, and he pulls me close, his warmth enveloping me. "We should get some sleep before we have to get up early," he says softly. I nod in agreement, my head resting against his chest as we settle in for the night. But just as I start to drift off, I hear the front door open and close, and the sound of tired footsteps approaching Jesse's bedroom. The door creaks open, and I see Ellie and Dina stumble into the room, their eyes heavy with exhaustion.

Neither speak, Ellie pushing at my back and Jesse shifts us over so we’re on one side of his bed, his arms wrapped around me and I’m practically laying on top of him but he seems to prefer this, one of his hands settling on my thigh that is flung over his waist. Ellie presses her back to mine and the bed shifts a little more as her and Dina get comfortable before silence settles in the room. I can't help but feel grateful for the warmth and comfort of Jesse's bed and the presence of my closest friends and newfound love. It's moments like these that remind me of the importance of human connection, of being able to let go of the worries of the day and just be present in the moment with the people we love. And as I finally surrender to sleep, I know that no matter what challenges the future may hold, I'll always have these precious memories to hold onto.

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

The Last of Us Masterlist

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[supersources]

interview with the vampire (2022): episode 2, ... after phantoms of your former self. tw:  murder,  death,  blood,  strong language,  all vampire things.

* did you always work for him? did you sign an nda?

* is it only work or are you and he...?

* i serve a god.

* you missed at least three or four endangered species.

* i want to apologize for my outburst earlier. i can assure you, it will not happen again.

* memory is a monster. we forget, it doesn't.

* eh, can we turn down the music?

* two vampires walk into a church....

* the bliss was merely a stage in my transformation, pain followed.

* your body is confused. your lungs feel like water, your heart, fire. you feel as if you're dying... because you are.

* a proper disposal is the penance of a sated vampire.

* we live off the blood of the living. lap up the blood of the deceased and it'll suck you right down into death along with your victim.

* there's the spark.

* you were fucking loaded.

* your ears will pick up the world like a maddening symphony.

* your eyes will wander, led by your hunger.

* they were your brothers and sisters once but now they're your savory inferiors.

* straight to the prettiest girl at the party. i admire the aesthetic.

* just to be clear here, gents, we are here to talk about farm equipment. am i right?

* the neck. bite the neck. no... no, you don't bite the blood, you suck it.

* for our next carpet, i'm thinking persian.

* this is your home, now. breathe.

* you ain't fucking hearin' me!

* hey! that's comin' out of my pay!

* the sun gives life to everything but us. i should have taught you that.

* the life of a vampire has its challenges... and its rewards.

* i ain't sleeping in a coffin.

* you've had a long life... and such an extraordinary one ahead.

* it's okay... you can be on top.

* i got in that coffin on my own free will.

* in the quiet dark, we were equals.

* vampires are killers. apex predators whose all-seeing eyes were meant to give them detachment.

* don't expect every reader to swallow that one.

* when i first started learning english, i abhorred it. every word felt like a doorknob falling out of my mouth.

* killing folks ain't a second language.

* these are nightmares i'm having, not dreams.

* he's lying, you know. he wants the job so he can steal from you.

* you gonna make me beg?!

* it's not cheating with a woman because i can't get pregnant.

* i'm gonna ditch this town and be somebody... or i'll just go home.

* it's a very distracting gift, the petty musings of meat.

* what am i thinking right now?

* the architects of our creation mean to humble us. we're at the mercy of the other's discretion.

* you chase after phantoms of your former self. i'll break you of it.

* the curtains go up at eight.

* look what the wind blew in...

* i don't remember inviting him but, please, take your overdressed self and have a fine time.

* i see you have a banjo band in your front yard...

* don't come back fragile.

* haven't heard a knock on my door... it's half a mile both ways.

* you making me a uncle right here?

* you hide from me this long again, i'll hunt you down and slap you sideways.

* well, you really do have a mind inside that head of yours, don't you?

* you know, i had my doubts... but you really earned your 15%.

* i had powers now, and decades of rage to process, and it was both random and unfortunate, the man picked that night to dabble in fuckery. if not him, it would have been the next man.

* he disrespected me! he said i did a good job.

* you are a library of confusion.

* yes, let's have this conversation again.

* couple of garish priests go missing, people say "fine, most likely kid fiddlers." but this was an important man in town! the police will be looking for this man!

* i don't like sleeping angry.

* for the record, if disrespect was done to you, i would have killed him myself.

* well, what can i do to make it up to you?

* how can i stop you? how can i say no to you?

* i'm sure mama would love to see you.

* i no longer kill. my last victim was in the year 2000.

* did you eat the baby?

* what on earth would a meth-addicted son of a coal miner in west virginia want with eternal life?

* you have to stop seeing them. they'll grow fearful of you if they haven't already.

* it's a rite of passage for all of us.

* i ain't never gonna have a family of my own, am i?

* i'm your family...

* you should just throw me in the incinerator and make another.

* you're a challenge every sunset, and i wouldn't have it any other way.

* i have a private box and i had tuxedos made... i've been neglectful of romance.

* he had a way about him, those first years.

* how many of us are out there? we can't be the only ones.

* music pierced his damned soul... and any humans who were involved in the creation of it existed on an elevated plane in his eyes.

* i was moved to see he too had his human attachments.

* i don't understand how someone like that can make it onto a stage.

* he removed a lifetime of confidence, of joy, in less than half an hour.

* why do you do this?!

* well, i like to do it. i enjoy it.

* you don't have to humiliate him.

* well, i didn't say you had to enjoy it!

* kill them swiftly if you have to, but do it! embrace what you are! you are a killer!

* come now, love, let's get you to the couch to die.* i was never going to be a natural. i was never going to savor the aftertaste.

* i try to have a human dish once a week to maintain the thread.

* it tastes like most human food... like paste, chalk, soap...

[keiffeine]

hello! i love your writing so much, especially for voltron! Can i maybe get a voltron legendary defenders headcanons with James Griffin, Matt Holt and Takashi Shirogane where s/o has recurring nightmares and didn’t tell them until they had a really bad nightmare, and they just help them through it? thank you!

with gender-neutral reader.

genre: fluff/comfort (maybe angst?)

a/n: i feel like i made this too dramatic but. idk. hope you like!!

© all rights reserved to keiffeine. reposting, plagiarizing, modifying, and translating is NOT allowed.

you’ve been having recurring nightmares for quite some time now—but they were usually bearable despite how terrible and scared they made you feel. you’ve grown used to the nightmares, usually occurring once every so often, but this time, it was different.

this nightmare you were having felt worse in comparison to the others. it was still the same but there were slight changes that made it feel weird in the most terrifying way possible, and for once it actually felt like it was real. for once it actually felt like you weren’t going to wake up from this one, and you jolted yourself awake with cold sweat, chest rising and falling rapidly, physical tears running down your cheeks.

takashi shirogane

• shiro gets roused awake with alert, looking at you with worry.

• “hey, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he says, swiping the beads of sweat dotting your forehead and rubbing the small of your back. “it’s okay, it’s not real.”

• “shiro,” you whimpered, voice shaky, “shiro it felt so real. it’s normally not like this, i was so terrified.”

• “normally?” he asks.

• “it’s—i have these recurring nightmares. i just didn’t want to say anything,” you said, “but this one was just so…” your sentence faded off, not even knowing how to describe something like that.

• as someone who had recurring nightmares—and still did—shiro knew exactly what it felt like.

• “i understand,” shiro said, urging you to lay back down, “try to get back to rest. i’m here for you, if you need me,” he assures, laying with you and wrapping an arm around your middle, wanting to make sure you were at ease before he can fall back asleep.

james griffin

• james wakes up immediately, looking over to you and taking in how panicked you seemed.

• “what happened?” he asked, a hand on the small of your back and rubbing gently. “are you okay? do you need water?”

• “no, just—” you pause for a moment, eyes blown wide as you looked around the room before your attention finally settled on james. you quickly felt a sense of relief wash over you. “i’ve been having this same nightmare too often, and tonight it was just—i don’t even know why, but it was different and worse. it scared me…it just felt too real…”

• you sighed into the dark, still shaking after the nightmare you’d just had.

• james pulled you into a tight embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek and still rubbing your back to calm you down.

• “you’re okay now,” he whispers in the dark, “i’ve got you.”

matt holt

• “y/n?” matt asks, waking up seconds after you had, instinctively taking your hand and squeezing. “is everything okay?”

• “yeah,” you nod, chest rising and falling with heavy breaths, feeling completely shaken, “it’s—it’s these stupid recurring nightmares i’ve been having lately. normally they’re easier to deal with but the one i just had was different and terrifying, matt,” you whimper, leaning against him.

• he held you close and tight, sweeping away the tear you hadn’t even realized was rolling down your cheek.

• “do you need anything? water, maybe?” he suggested, turning on the lamp on the bedside table.

• “i’m okay, just,” you nuzzle your head against the crook of his neck, “hold me for a little longer, if you wouldn’t mind.”

• “of course,” matt murmurs, kissing your temple.

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